#me an anxious person: what if we do a classic wedding where I have to plan everything and where there are things out of my grip

[tearlunars]

so i'm getting married in like 2 weeks so i might not be around much bc we still have a few things to do and i'm going to spend the weekends not at home!!!

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hello! I’ve been back and forth on writing you this bc I’m nervous but eh fuck it, I have no shame. So first off, I just want to say that you, Salome, are an absolutely stunning and brilliant writer. As someone who majored in classical studies in college, I was completely blown away by Fatum Nos Iungebit. The world you built was so deeply immersive and characterization of König, in that story as well as your other headcanons, is perfect. For the past week or so, I’m going to be honest, I’ve been going through your blog because I’ve been so hungry for more and the only reason I haven’t interacted more is that 1. I don’t wanna feel like a creep and 2. I was so scared of you blocking me for ‘’spam-liking” or whatever. I can assure you that I am a real person and I’ve been enjoying everything I’ve seen. I came across one concept however, that definitely got my neurons firing and that’s the idea of belly dancer reader x könig and I have some thoughts I wanted to share with you if that’s okay. :)

So I’ve been a belly dancer for almost a decade (I actually celebrate my ten year anniversary next year!). I was part of a belly dance performance troupe at my old university and I currently dance with a studio in my new city. It’s genuinely one of the great passions of my life. I’ve performed at all kinds of venues and for all different occasions from festivals to galas to charity events to hookah bars, so I definitely have some performing experience under my belt, well as what audiences are like. So when I saw the idea of König being mesmerized by a dancer at a wedding, I went !!!

I want to add the caveat that this is based on my experience as a dancer living in the US, and while I’ve performed for SWANA audiences (which is always an amazing experience 🥰) and non-SWANA audiences, I can’t speak for what it’s like in other countries. So, in my ✨personal✨ experience as a belly dancer going on a decade, it’s pretty rare that men will approach dancers during or after a performance—especially to actively hit on her. And believe it or not, it’s because many of them are actually intimidated! I have seen the most seemingly cockiest, proudest men just stare blankly and stand back while we do our thing. If anything, it’s usually women who approach us, gushing about our performances or asking where they can take classes and stuff. Women tend to be the first ones to get up and dance with us, shower us with tips, etc. (again, very much my personal experience as someone living in the US). When it comes to more family-friendly events like weddings and stuff, we also get a lot of kids approaching and that’s always so adorable and sweet—especially when the little babies think we’re princesses. 😭

So back to König, especially Y!König. 😈 he’s at the wedding. He’s mopey. He’s picking at his plate of chicken and rice. He’s happy for his friend and his bride, but a little bitter and jealous that he’ll never get to be that happy. Then, a mejance (essentially an entrance/overture piece of music) swells over the speakers and out comes the dancer, adorned in an Irina Sheyner number (she’s an absolutely STUNNING costume designer, plsplsplsPLS look her up 😭), veil flying behind her. She does her mejance, a drum solo, and at some point…she does a sword number. The level of control she has to be able to balance the sword on her head in impressive, but König can’t help but imagine what it would be like for to dance wielding his knives in hand. Finally, dancer opens up the floor and in typical faction brings out the bride and groom to dance with her, and then most of the other guests follow. Not König though. He hangs back and watches as this beautiful dancer holds the guests in the palm of her hand. Gone is the cocky, brutal soldier, and only the shy, anxious boy remains, the one who would always be left out of games at recess and who wasn’t invited to birthday parties. König has never been the dancing type, but he can’t even bring himself to offer her a few of the banknotes or dollars or whatever currency he’s using. He just stares, and she’s completely oblivious.

A while later, he’s getting ready to leave, when he spots Dancer. Her makeup and hair still done up, but she’s now fully cloaked and awkwardly lugging her suitcase and bags full of props and other equipment across the poorly paved parking lot. König zeroes in on her and before he knows it, he’s approaching her, asking her if she needs help carrying her stuff. Dancer, surprised but this gigantic man suddenly appearing before her, flashes a winning smile at him and says he can. König easily lugs the stuff to Dancer’s car. She thanks him profusely and just like that, she drives away.

It’s only a few hours later that the obsession starts to creep in. König, who’s ordinarily not a big social media user, is now checking the feeds and stories of his friends who attended the wedding. Finally, he comes across one friend who posted a video of themself with the dancer and tagged her Instagram. König can’t click on it fast enough and suddenly, he’s greeted by dozens of images and photos of Dancer. Some are adorably mundane. He finds out that Dancer teaches classes at a studio nearby, and some of the videos consist of dancer teaching basic moves to the camera. There are other videos of her at the local hookah bar, where she performs on a regular basis. König sees one particularly video of Dancer doing a piece of floor work, that same sword balanced proudly on her head as she’s propped back on her arms, her gorgeous hips undulating toward the sky. König feels a dark wave of heat wash over him. He jokingly thinks to himself that maybe he should take up hookah. But one thing is for certain, she’s going to be his one day. He’ll just have to be sneaky about it, subtle.

He clicks the follow button on Dancer’s instagram. She has a few thousand followers. Surely she can’t notice one faceless profile, right? 😈😈😈😈😈😈

Anyway, that’s all I have for now. I know you’re taking a break from fics but if you see this I want you to know you’re an amazing writer. Lots of love! 💖💖💖💖

Ughhh and another lovely soul 😭💗 I don't know what's going on in here this week but both you and anon have really made my heart swell!

And please please please, spam liking is never frowned upon here (I don't know why anyone would block someone who's clearly not a bot for loving your stuff?!) It's such a delight if I see that someone has liked a ton of things instead of just one. It's the highest compliment and praise! ❤️🥺

And your bellydancer prompt/drabble is so mouthwatering, god. If I'm being honest, I'd read whatever you wrote for this thing in a hot minute because you have the skill and you've done the research (an actual bellydancer in my inbox?! Ok Salome try not to be a creep) and the premise is just. GAH. So good, especially with yandere König! ❤️❤️❤️

I have to reveal I wrote like 8 chapters of a story relatively close to this in the fall: Stalker!König obsessing about reader, invading her DMs on Instagram and literally stalking her. She's not a bellydancer, but damn if I didn't think about changing her into one... :) The story is on hold for now, but here is a little snippet as a thank you gift!

CW: Yandere/Stalker!König, harassing, obsessive behavior

I’m sorry, Liebling. You were too beautiful yesterday. I got carried away.

You wake up just to see that your phone is full of messages. From him, of course. He’s created another account on Instagram.

I’m just a man.

You ignore it altogether, even if there’s messages and emails from other people too. You simply go to brush your teeth, hearing how the phone buzzes on your desk.

I know it was disrespectful. I could never call my wife that. Will you forgive me?

You sigh and finish with your morning routine, but the phone buzzes again.

I sent you flowers. Did you get them?

It’s like he knows when you’re awake, because you can see the messages from your screen without having to unlock it. Even if he refreshed your conversation every minute, every second, he can’t possibly see that you’ve seen them yet.

It bugs you to no end, this feeling that he somehow knows that you’re awake. It’s like he knows your every move. It’s the most unnerving thing, and makes you think about horrible scenarios where he has broken into your house while you’re at work, to install cameras or microphones or something. You feel like you’re about to go mad if this nightmare goes on.

You go to the front door, but hesitate a while before you turn the knob.

What if it’s a trap?

What if he wants to kill you because you yelled at him last night at the pub...? What if there’s a bomb or something that goes off when you open the door, what if he aims at you with a gun from across the street and kills you on your doorstep this morning?

Just what the actual fuck does this guy even want with you...

You sigh with a broken heart and some broken nerves, deciding it’s as good a way to go as any. You turn the knob and open the door, only to find the usual porch, and a large bouquet of dark red roses planted there.

More ice sinks into your stomach as you witness the evidence of him knowing where you live. But the fact that he chose to send red roses… Ugh, this guy is so old-fashioned and so unimpressive that it’s somewhat a dull surprise to actually see flowers on that porch.

Who buys red roses these days?

Couldn’t he have picked peonies or something, something to go with your other decor… Red roses are so eighties, so funeral-like, so boring.

You sigh and go and take the flowers to the trash. Then you walk back to your house, make sure the door is locked tight, and go back to your phone to type a message.

Did you see that?

The answer arrives immediately.

What? ❤️

I threw your flowers in the trash.

There’s bit of a pause after that. Your wannabe boyfriend clearly hasn’t got his eye on you at every given moment. That’s a bit of a surprise, almost a disappointment, actually. But only if you were any more crazy.

The reply comes after about 30 seconds, after a series of Typing… bumping up and down on the screen.

I’m sad.

You get some satisfaction from that, but the first reaction is a tiny, tiny dagger to the heart. You sigh – you do nothing but sigh these days – not only because of his message, but also because you can’t seriously be having a moment of compassion for your stalker, for god's sake.

You make me sad, Liebling 💔 Are you still angry with me?

You throw the phone away and go to make yourself some breakfast, only to stop and turn when you hear the phone buzz again.

I’ll send you more flowers.

Jesus…

You unlock the screen in a frenzy and type a reply in mere seconds.

Don’t bother. I’ll throw them in the bin too.

Typing…

You have to keep them at some point. Trash bins get full so soon.

STOP HARASSING ME.

You throw the phone away for good this time, and don’t come back to it for another hour. You eat your breakfast with squirming insides and a rattled heart, waiting for someone to come bring you flowers at any given moment.

But no one ever comes.

You check your phone before going to work, but there’s nothing from him there. You go and block his new profile, unsurprised to see that there are no pictures this time, not even a profile picture (well, there is one, but it’s only a black circle), just in case. You don’t know why you didn’t block him in the first place.

There’s a radio silence for a few days. You spend them at the edge of your seat, with lots of trouble sleeping, but soon start to ease into the fact that maybe he finally had enough. Maybe you were not as interesting or attractive as he thought when he met you in person…

Wait, what?

Gosh, you can’t be this desperate... You simply can’t. This has to end.

You don’t talk about him in therapy, mainly to convince yourself that you’re not thinking about him at all. You’re not missing him harassing and stalking you, and you’re not disappointed that he didn’t send you enough flowers to fill your entire bin.

You know you should address this: this crazy need to be something groundbreaking to someone. To want someone to be this obsessed with you, no matter how sick that someone was. You know you would have gone to the police if your stalker was the sleazy, weak-wristed man from the pub. You would’ve packed your bags and moved houses already, changed your name and closed your social media accounts, quit everything if your stalker was small and ugly and weak.

But now that you know he’s relatively good-looking, does something dangerous and has a lot of money, and looks like he could fuck and fight half the city by himself, you’re not in that much of a hurry to go to the authorities.

You’re even a bit sad that your stalker hasn’t given you any fevered attention these past few days... He hasn’t even asked you how you’ve been.

No one has asked you how you’ve been: no one ever does. You have to wade through this life all by yourself: depressed and anxious and crazy. Lonely… And horny.

Gods, you just want someone to hold you at night… Someone strong, and big, someone who would pay a few bills for you, take care of you and give you a round of good sex…

Your phone buzzes from time to time, but there’s no message from him. One night before going to sleep, relatively early, so early that it could be called the bedtime for old spinsters, you break down and cry a little. It’s not a wail: only a soft little sob, a few sniffles and a couple of tears until your nose gets clogged and the pillow is wet.

Your phone buzzes, and you reach for it, feeling so, so pathetic when you hope it would be him.

And the message is from him.

You’re the most beautiful woman on this earth. I know I fucked up. I’m just a horny dog and I don’t deserve you.

You sniffle and rise to sit, your whole system fully awake now. Oh god... You’re so fucked.

The message makes you feel incredibly good and sweet, almost giddy. It feels like he’s kneeled right there in front of you, like a knight who has misbehaved in the throes of his lust. You know it’s ridiculous, but you start to smile a little, and the tears dry on their own. The merry feeling is followed by righteous rage, a little fit, because he’s made you wait for days, he’s tortured you in every way possible, and he does absolutely nothing right.

You unlock the screen and start to type, not thinking it through at all before hitting send.

That’s right.

Fuck… Shit. That was a mistake. No, a huge error.

Why did you have to send that? Stooping to his level, sending stupid things like that…

You put the phone away quickly, then reach for it again to delete what you just send. But it’s too late.

I can be a good dog if you forgive me.

The message is waiting for you already, and when you don’t reply, the oppressive, ominous Typing… hits on the screen once more. God, how could you be so stupid…

I’ll kill anyone you need me to kill. I'll give you money, whatever you need. A new kitchen so you can cook me something nice? I’ll be a good dog, I promise.

What did you even expect?

Everything always blows up when you give him attention: any dumb person knows better than to give this hungry dog a bone. You’re just too fond of digging your own grave, it seems.

There’s no end to the messages: this guy starts typing a new one every time he has sent the last.

I’ll fuck you like a good dog too….

You lean your forehead to your palm, trying to figure out a way to stop this.

And then–

Fuck, now I’m hard

You take a quick breath of air and put the phone away.

Please don’t send a dick pic, please don’t send a dick pic…

The phone buzzes.

Look how hard you make me

There’s a picture attached, but you can’t see it when the screen is locked.

This is what I have to live with, day and night…

Message after message, your phone buzzes, and you check them quickly from your screen, swearing to yourself that you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of opening the conversation and checking the image he sent you. You know perfectly well what you will find if you do that.

But after only a minute or two, you unlock the phone, and open the conversation with your heart ramming in your chest.

Just one quick look...

[smoooothoperator]

Save Your Tears

02: Talk To Me

Driver! Mick Schumacher x opera singer! OC (Ophelia Becker)

Strangers to friends to lovers, love at first sight, long plane flight, personal drama, opera references

Words: 2k

Warnings: onesided love

a/n: Hello guys!!!! I officially finished the operas of this month! I fave a little of free time now, so I'll try to post whenever I can

Btw, do you want me to make a playlist? If that's so, what type of music do you want me to add?

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Masterlist

previous part | next part

Weddings.

A celebration where two people in love promise to love each other for the rest of their lives.

What a beautiful event, right?

But, why does he feel his heart breaking while watching the invitation? Why is he feeling heartbroken when he sees her name next to his best friend's name?

Oh yeah, because she's the love of his life. The love of his life is his best friend's fiance. How classic.

It all started when the three of them were at school. They were a group, their teachers called them the three musketeers because none of them saw them apart from each other. Both boys protected the girl, calling her princess and them thinking they were her knights. 

It was when Mick started to race on karting when they trio started to be a duo. But that never stopped his feelings growing for her. He loved her in silence, wanting to be close to her when he didn't have races.

But soon he saw how she treated his friend. He saw how she touched his arm, how he fixed his hair, how she smiled at him. How she loved him.

"We wanted to tell you a while ago" Stephanie mumbled, looking down at her lap. "But you are away all the time…"

"Because I am following my dreams" Mick frowned. "I thought you two supported me"

"We do! But… we felt alone, mate" Josh sighed. "And it just happened. While you were away we just… we fell in love"

Fell in love. That's what he did when he was five years old. He fell in love with Stephanie and she just fell in love with Josh. 

He went pale when he saw Josh giving him the invitation for the wedding and he immediately forgot it on top of his living room table.

He never stopped loving Stephanie, but somehow he felt she was already out of reach. She doesn't talk to him like she used to when they were younger, she doesn't hug him as close as she used to. 

When they say that having a relationship inside a group of friends can bring problems, they know what they were talking about. And that's something he started to understand the moment they told him about their relationship.

So when the day of flying back to his home came, he started to freak out.

What if he confessed his feelings many years ago? What if he wasn't away when they were teens? What if he focused more on his friends instead of his career? 

What if, what if…

What if he misses the plane?

But, why is he thinking that when he's already at the airport? Five hours before getting in the plane that takes him to his home?

His mind was spiraling, punishing him by remembering all the chances he had to confess his feelings and he never did.

He looked around, sitting on a table while he charged his phone, observing the people walking around him.

He wonders if someone knows who he is. Maybe they do and can feel how anxious he is, so they make sure to not bother him. 

And then he heard a voice, a velvet and melodic voice that made him look up from the screen, making his eyes stop looking at a picture of Stephanie.

A girl, with chocolate hair and chocolate eyes, was asking for an iPhone charger.

The moment their eyes met, he felt shivers, goosebumps. Suddenly he smiled, but he couldn't understand why.

"Here" he smiled, disconnecting his phone after looking at his battery. "I have enough battery"

She smiled weakly, making him frown curious. Her eyes are red like she cried recently, her face is covered with make up like she came from an important event but her outfit says otherwise.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking carefully at her.

He saw her flinch and take a deep breath, how her lips curved up on a fake smile. Something's not right.

"Yeah, of course " she said, making his heart race after hearing her voice.

Oh, what is that?

He saw her sitting on the chair next to him, grabbing her backpack and placing it on the table with a long sigh.

"I'm Mick" he said, giving her the charger with a smile.

"Like Mick Jagger?" she chuckled softly, making him smile like a fool.

Okay, what is happening?

"Fan of The Rolling Stones?" he laughed, looking how she blushed. 

"Kinda" she laughed. "I'm Ophelia"

"Like Ophelia from Hamlet?" Mick chuckled too, watching how she smiled weakly and nodded.

"Exactly" she sighed.

He smiled weakly and looked at her while she looked at things on her phone. She's gorgeous, somehow. Her voice was something that bewitched him, and her eyes gave him the need to eat chocolate. The makeup of her face looks fancy, like she came straight from a fashion show.

He looked at her backpack, watching a book with the title Romeo et Juliette inside of it.

"Fan of Shakespeare?" he asked, wanting to hear her voice again.

"Oh… no, well yeah" she smiled. "It's from an opera. I am Juliette"

"No way, are you an opera singer?" he asked, surprised, raising his eyebrows. "You don't look like one"

"Oh, and how are we supposed to look like?" she frowned, hiding a smile and looking at him, her body facing him. 

"I don't know… kinda fancy? Like someone who is hard to reach?" he frowned, trying to create in his mind the image of what she could be.

"Well, I'm not like that" she shrugged, making him feel stupid. 

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, making his leg bounce anxious again, biting the nail of his thumb and look at his phone.

"Where are you flying to?" she asked suddenly, making his heart jump again after hearing her voice.

"Zurich" he sighed. "My flight is on four hours"

"Oh, we'll be on the same flight" she smiled weakly. 

He hummed and nodded, looking at her. There's something in her that calls his attention, something in her eyes and how sad they looked.

"Are you hungry?" he asked her. "I have a business seat and I can go to the VIP room"

"Oh, I have it too" she nodded. "And, yeah… I'm hungry"

They got up from the chairs and grabbed all their things. Mick saw how she moved, how slowly and smooth her movements were. It was like she was a ballerina.

Both of them walked towards the VIP room, none of them understanding why they walked so close to the other, making their arms brush softly against the other. 

Ophelia felt goosebumps all over her body, and she could feel peace in her mind once his blue eyes met hers. It was a weird feeling, she barely knows him.

"So… what do you want to eat?" Mick asked her, looking around the room trying to find an empty table for them.

"Whatever you want, I'm not picky" she sighed, searching for a table too, and once she found an empty one, she smiled weakly. "Do you want me to take your suitcase so I can go to the table?"

He nodded and smiled, letting her grab his suitcase, making their hands touch. Mick felt like an electric shock, making the hairs of his arms raise up as well as his heartbeat.

She held his suitcase and walked towards the table, sitting there and letting a long sigh escape her lips. She's tired, mentally and physically tired. Just thinking about what will happen once she lands in Zurich…

"I've got you a burger" Mick sait, sitting in front of her and interrupting, again, her thoughts. "I hope you don't mind, is a cheeseburger"

"No, is perfect" she smiled weakly.

He nodded and sighed, eating his sandwich and looking at her from time to time. There's something in her that makes him want to know more. There's something in her eyes that gives him the need to ask her what bothers her, why her smile doesn't reach her eyes.

"So… why are you going to Zurich?" she asked suddenly, making him sigh.

"My best friends are getting married" Mick sighed, eating a french fry after dipping it in ketchup.

"You don't sound happy about that" she pointed, making him smile sadly.

"It's complicated…"

"I'm all ears" she said, biting the burger and looking at him, waiting for him to answer if he wanted to.

He sighed and drank a sip of his drink, taking a deep breath and looking at her. He looks genuinely interested, maybe it's just a way of killing time while waiting for the plane.

"I have known them since I have memory" he began to explain. "It was always the three of us, until it wasn't"

"Why?" 

"I'm a racing driver" he confessed. "I started my career following my dad's steps, and it made me travel a lot… making me leave them"

"I know how that feels" she smiled weakly, making him look at her surprised "Following your dad's steps. I did the same with my mother…"

"I loved her, Stephanie. I still do…" he mumbled, looking at how Ophelia smiled weakly at him. "But I never had the guts to tell her and now she's marrying my best friend"

"Oh, Mick… I'm sorry" she smiled weakly.

"And… you are going to Zurich for a wedding too?" he asked, looking at the dress bag that is on top of her suitcase. "Or for a concert?"

"Eh… yeah, a concert" she smiled weakly. “It’s an important one”

“When is it?” he asked curious.

Something about her makes him want to know more and more. He finds her interesting, mysterious. He never met an opera singer. How is that life? As luxurious as his life? She for sure might have lots of supporters. If her voice sounds like the voice of an angel, how is her voice while singing? Will he hear it?

“Oh… I mean…” she smiled weakly, nervous. “Next week”

“That’s nice!” he nodded smiling, making her lips curve a little more.

They ate the rest of their dinner in silence, talking only the necessary. Both of them, somehow, felt comfortable with the presence of the other. Sometimes they caught the other looking, making both of them chuckle and blush, forgetting their personal problems. He forgot about Stephanie, marrying his best friend. She forgot about what waits for her once she lands in Zurich. Now what was on their mind was them, Mick and Ophelia, Ophelia and Mick: two strangers that fate put them in each other's ways.

“Passengers of the plane with destination to Zurich, please go to gate A24”

Mick frowned, leaving the glass of water on the table while listening to the speakers.

“That’s our plane!” both of them gasped, getting up and grabbing all their things, running through the corridors.

When they arrived at the gates, they were the last ones, but at least they arrived in time. When the flight attendant asked for their tickets she smiled, making them frown.

“Have a good flight” she smiled. 

They nodded and smile at each other weakly. This is a goodbye.

“It was so nice talking with you” Mick smiled, looking at her. 

“Yeah” she smiled. “Good luck in the wedding, I guess…”

“And good luck in your concert” he smiled nodding.

He stopped there. The business seats are at the front of the plane, so he just searched for a place where he can leave the suitcase after placing his backpack on the seat he will have.

“No way” he heard her laugh. “Are you really going to sit there?”

Mick turned around, and his heart started to beat fast.

It was the same feeling when someone tells you good news, or when they give you something you really wanted, or when they congratulate you for doing a good job, or even when you eat your favorite food. He felt his smile grow when he saw how she placed her black backpack on the seat next to his.

"I guess you won't get away from me so easily" he chuckled, wanting to repeat that phrase over and over again.

taglist

@racinggirl @elisysd @lorarri @musingsbyshreya

[me-and-your-husband]

together || a. barber

Summary: You and Andy spend your Valentine’s Day together, basking in the glow of each other.

Warnings: none, just fluff :)

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: I wrote this for @drabblewithfrannybarnes @chrissquares and @amythedvdhoarder 's Hoelentine’s fic swap! This is a gift for the extremely deserving @trashywritestrash !

The blinding sunlight peeked through the translucent white curtains and brought life into the room. The warm glow on your skin roused you, and your eyes fluttered open to look at the man beside you who was radiating such an ethereal energy that he was almost glowing. The golden light shone on his bare chest and highlighted the few grays in his beard and hair. The rhythmic rising of his chest up and down as he breathed was rather calming, and the faintest creases showed at the corners of his eyes, evidence of many years of laughter. 

While you were busy memorizing his every feature, the hand that wrapped around you subconsciously pulled you closer, burying your face in his neck. He still smelled of his cologne even after he showered last night. You smiled softly against his neck when you realized that even in his sleep, his subconscious knew that he wanted you close. 

Hours passed and the sun rose in the sky, brightening the room further. It was a Sunday, and Andy had the weekend off. He knew he wanted to spend the day with his girl on Valentine’s Day. When the birds stopped chirping and the streets became busy with a Sunday morning buzz, Andy stirred. Lifting your head from his neck, his eyelids fluttered open to reveal his gorgeous blue eyes.

Resting a hand on the side of his cheek and softly scratching his beard, you took a moment to admire him further as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and blinked to adjust to the light. 

“Morning, honey,” he said, his voice low and rough from sleep. “How did you sleep?”

His hands moved to rest on your hips. “You know I always sleep perfectly next to you,” you hummed. He huffed out a small laugh, before pulling you back into his chest. 

“Y’know what day it is?” He teased.

“Of course I do, it’s National Organ Donor Day,” you smirked, lifting your head off his chest. 

He chuckled, “Very funny, Y/N.” He pushed you off his chest playfully. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! It’s Valentine’s Day,” you laughed.

“Oh really?” He said, words dripping in sarcasm. Leaning down, he brought his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, only parting when air became insufficient. 

You groaned, though the dazed smile on your face contradicted you. “We should probably get out of bed. It’s almost ten thirty,” you gestured towards the alarm clock on the bedside table. 

“Right. Wouldn’t wanna waste such a special day. We’ve gotta give thanks to the organ donors of America.”

The day continued as normal. Andy believed that spoiling his girl and showing her an abundance of affection shouldn’t be a one day a year thing. You and Andy ran a few errands and did a few things around the house, and in the late afternoon you slumped onto your couch after helping Andy carry the grocery bags through the door. 

Finding your exhaustion quite amusing, Andy chuckled. “If you’re tired, you can go have a nap, honey.”

You let out a noise in between a whine and a groan. “No, it’s Valentine’s Day and I want to spend it together. Besides, we’ve got that reservation-”

“Forget the reservation,” Andy professed. Feeling the couch dip with his weight, you felt his large hand rub soothingly up and down your back. “I’m happy wherever you are. And it’ll be way better if you aren’t exhausted. Go sleep, I’ll make dinner.”

“Ngh, are you sure?” You asked him softly, to which he nodded his head solemnly. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before you got up and threw yourself into your bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

In the kitchen, Andy was busy trying to boil pasta, cook chicken, cut vegetables and make sauce all at once, all while trying to be quiet as to not wake you from your peaceful slumber. Of course he succeeded, because it was Andy. 

An hour and a half later, Andy scribbled on a bright green sticky note and placed it right on the screen of your phone so that you couldn’t miss it when you checked the time. Taking a moment to admire your sleeping state before creeping back out of the room, Andy couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. What if you said no? What would he do without you? It was so unhealthy to live for another person other than yourself, it was unhealthy to be so obsessed with someone else’s love that you wanted to be in their immediate vicinity at all times, and it was unhealthy to give your entire self solely to someone else. Andy knew it was unhealthy, and before you he reminded himself of that every day. But then you came along, with your glowing smile and radiance, and Andy couldn’t help but follow you like a lost puppy and bend his morals to fit you into his life completely. 

It wasn’t like you did it on purpose. It wasn’t like you pranced into Andy’s life, took his whole heart in your hands, and forced him to trust you with it. No, he did that willingly. Who wouldn’t, though? You were anything but malicious with his soul. You guarded his heart like it belonged to the best man in the universe. Which to you, it did. 

Andy was the person who you wanted to shield from everything wrong and harmful in the world. Together, the two of you could create a little opaque protective bubble in which you could dwell in together, blocking out the rest of the world and the world not bothering you. Loving Andy was not a decision you made, but it was one you were thankful for nonetheless. 

The ringing of your alarm sounded, pulling you from your sleep. Stretching momentarily, you picked up your phone and aggressively tapped it to get it to stop ringing. When it didn’t, you opened up your eyes and after they adjusted to the light, you were met with the presence of a neon sticky note on your screen. You recognized Andy’s cursive:

Put something nice on, and come out when you’re ready.

You had to admit that you were curious, but you rolled out of bed and ruffled through your closet. After some indecisiveness, you settled on an outfit that you knew was Andy;s favorite. You put your hair up neatly and put any makeup you wished to wear on. It wasn’t long until you were ready, and when you were you opened your bedroom door and your ears were met with the soft hum of classical music. Walking down the hallway, you could tell that the house was dimly light, likely by candles. 

You finally stood before Andy at the kitchen table, who was pouring a glass of wine for you and placing it next to your plate. It was filled with all sorts of foods, and your mouth watered at the display. Andy gestured for you to sit, so you did so. He had changed since earlier, he now wore his usual slacks and a dress shirt, but no tie this time.

“Andy,” you breathed. “You didn’t have to do all of this!” You gawked as you looked around. Grabbing your hands from across the table, Andy assured you that he did, that he needs to show you how much he loves you. 

“Andy, you show me that every day. It’s laced in the little things you do like a drug.”

“And you’re addicted?” He asked smugly.

“And I’m addicted,” you confirmed. 

Andy took a deep breath as his mind wandered to the small velvet box in his back pocket. Looking at you, he realized that he wanted to do this now. Grabbing your hand, he led you to the back door. 

“Andy, where are we going?” You laughed. 

“You’ll see.”

Sliding open the back door, Andy led you out and shut it again. He let go of your hand when you spun around to take in the scene. Strings of lights were strung across the yard, illuminating the area. They created a box around you. You looked up towards the sky. The stars were almost clear tonight, the city’s pollution making them harder to see, but they were still as clear as always. 

Looking back down, you saw the man who held your heart in his hands, now holding a velvet box. Your breath caught in your throat and you let out a sob, hands flying up to cover your mouth. 

“Andy…” you choked out. He only let out a shaky breath.

“Y/N,” he began before he cleared his throat. “God, I pretty much recite speeches for a living and now I’m blanking on everything I practiced. Alright, I’m going to wing it,” he announced and you laughed with watery eyes. 

“Y/N, darling, love of my life, it’s quite a ridiculous notion that someone would follow another person to the ends of the earth, but here we are. I would travel anywhere just to keep you within my reach. I want to be able to call you Mrs. Barber, to wear your wedding band and for you to wear this ring. I want to grow and have a family with you and grow old with you. You’re like my air. I need you. And I know you don’t need me, because you’re the most independent woman I know, but even thinking about you makes my chest hurt. So please, Y/N, before this kills me, will you marry me?”

“Yes, Andy! Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot! I love you, I love you, I love you!” You gushed, hurling yourself into his arms. Burying his face in your neck, his beard felt scratchy against your skin. You could feel the hot tears on his cheeks, as you were sure he could feel yours.

And the two of you stayed like that for a while. Just holding on to each other. You relished in the confirmation of your everlasting bond and the next step you’d be taking together. But really, you two just revelled in the notion of feeling so safe in your lover’s arms, knowing you’d protect each other from the world. Together.

TAGLIST:

@ilovemarvel-andcats​

my other taglist members have been deactivated :(

[awesomerextyphoon]

Slit Reflection

This is my entry for @jtargaryen18​​’s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Mine was Sam Wilson. Credit for dividers goes to @firefly-graphics​. Check them out!

Summary: You’ve always loved Halloween, especially the haunted house at the edge of the woods. So happens when the ‘Star Spangled Trio’ enters the mix?

Pairing: Demon King!Sam Wilson x  Black!Reader (Fem)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3,054

Warning: Kidnapping, Forced Marriage, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Stalking, Breeding Kink, Mentions of Torture, and Non-Con/Dub-Con Smut. You have been warned.

Back to Masterlist

You’ve always loved Halloween. It was your birthday and the haunted house at the edge of the woods gave the best spooks and thrills. It was your first Halloween after undergrad and this year was different.

The Star Spangled Trio were celebrity guests and they were bringing two of the old rooms back!

It took you six days to get a ticket. You tried getting one online, every shop in town, but got nothing.

Finally, a new face at the library took pity on you and gave you the last ticket along with a book on demon folklore. You thanked the new librarian and rushed out of the building. Had you looked back you would’ve noticed a smirk on their face and their sclera and pupils turning black and gold respectively.

Halloween—the day of your birth—was here, and it was shit. Your toothbrush broke, your car refused to start, the job that you desperately wanted was dashed by yet another rejection email, and both your student loan and rent checks bounced. You just need to get through today.

You missed the cutoff, but got in because the person working the line was a family friend. Anxiously, you wait in line wondering how the haunted house in your small ass town managed to nab the Star Spangled Trio when you noticed the excited expressions of the people leaving. Now you’re super anxious.

By the time you entered the haunted house, you’re doing the breathing exercises to calm yourself. This was it! You were finally going to meet your all time heroes (and possible spank bank entries)!

The first few rooms were your typical haunted house fare which you loved, but were secondary to your excitement in seeing your heroes. Maybe you could get an autograph and hug from them!

You were about to follow the person in front of you into the haunted house’s hospital room when you noticed a light flickering to your left. It revealed a door done in the Neo-classical design with some Latin text engraved in the middle (had you studied Latin , you would’ve known that the text read “Reveal yourself, my beloved”).

Opening the door, you saw that it lead to the Hall of Mirrors. This part of the haunted house was always a favorite of yours, but both the itinerary and the ticket worker said that it was closed this year. The hall itself was chillingly quite and pristine as if no one else had stepped foot inside this season.

All of the mirrors looked standard for the haunted house; some of them made you laugh or briefly catch your breath. The one at the end of the hall caught you off-guard. It was at least 12ft (about 3.66m) high with intricate carvings of characters out of dark folklore and a single diagonal slit.

You were about to turn away when you saw nothing thinking it was a small haunted house joke at your expense when the mirror flashed.

In your place was the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen, but it still looked like you..sort of. Your hair was long, luxurious and gently flowing. Your eyebrows, eyelashes, and nails were immaculate. Your nose was adorably broad and your lips were sensually full (the type of full women would shell hundred’s if not thousands of dollars for). You wore a diadem with thick gold chains ladened with diamonds, onyx, and rubies and around your neck was a ruby and onyx amulet. You were dressed in a loose, yet sleeveless form-fitting Vivaldi red gown with hints of fiery red and a thin rosewood colored shoulder veil connected to the dress by a ruby broach in the middle of your cleavage.

You looked about four or five inches taller and the mirror version of you made you feel nervous about your curves being out on display.

Curious, you reached out to touch the mirror. Your hand was less than a centimeter away when your mirrored self opened it eyes. Suddenly, it grew curved horns and its eyes glowed pale gold.

The mirrored version of you grabbed your outstretched arm and dragged you through the mirror all while you screamed hoping someone would come to your rescue, but to no avail.

Samael, or ‘Sam’ was notified of your departure and the trio had to excuse themselves from the festivities to congratulate Sam on finding his bride.

You woke up with a start and shout clawing the air but stopped once you realized that you weren’t falling anymore. Instead, you were in a huge, opulent room filled with treasures that not even Windsor Castle had. Curiosity seemed to have taken hold of you because you walked out onto the connecting balcony to find that you were on a different planet/dimension/realm, whatever!

There were floating landmasses (the smallest of which was the size of your small town) and five planets ranging from Moonbow Gold to Venetian Red in color.

You thought about where the fuck you were and how you could get back home when a voice interrupted your thoughts.

The source of the voice was a demon with Antique Ruby skin with reddish gray undertones and Cinnabar and Rosewood colored hair. She had two short outward curved horns with a gold chain and aquamarine teardrop connecting them. Her eyes were an inviting aqua blue eyes with a dark red sclera.

“Hello! My name is Scheherazade, but you can call me Sherry. I’m your Lady in Waiting. I’ve brought some food.” Sherry offered as she set the tray of food on a small table next to a dresser.

You smiled cautiously at your new elevated handmaiden,”Do you know why I’m-”

“Oh, I almost forgot! We need to get you ready for your presentation!”

The Fuck?!

“What do you mean ‘presentation’?,” you asked as nicely as possible, but reality came out more like a demand.  

Sherry stopped her ministrations and faced you,”Well, when the monarch, crown prince, or princess declares their mate, they are presented to the royal court,” she then returned to her task of finding a suitable dress for you not catching the mortified expression on your face.

This day can’t get any worse. Wait?

“What time is it?”

“Oh, yes, It’s pretty much always night here. The sun only comes out for three hours. Would you look at the time! Everyone’s waiting!”

“One last question,” you started as Sherry began dressing you,”Who am I marrying?”

“Why my second cousin, King Samael, one of the Three Demon Kings,  of course!”

You fought the impulse to faint.

It took thirty minutes for Sherry to make you look unrecognizable. Thankful for her assistance, you followed the floating torches to the throne room. The throne room was an enormous room with high wide vaulted arches, delicately carved pillars and columns, and a small bridge connecting the ground at the door to the center. The court comprised of beautiful yet fearsome demons of all shapes and sizes.

The king himself was seated on a grand, ornate throne atop a huge dais with at least 25 steps. He seemed familiar.

As soon as you were passed the threshold, the king raised his head and everyone stopped talking and cleared a path for you. Several courtiers whispered as you striddled towards the dais. When you finally reached the dais, the king got off his throne and walked down the steps to greet you.

You almost face-palmed. The king was Sam Wilson! Or at least, looked like him.  

Sam for his part was devastatingly handsome. He had a tall, powerful build, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, muscular thighs, short well-kept hair and beard with surprisingly kind eyes.  

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” Sam uttered as he pulled you in for a hug. You could’ve sworn he sniffed your hair, but you didn’t want to go into that right now.

“Everyone!” The court turned to the throne,” Thank you for coming. I have finally found my bride. We will be married tomorrow night!” Sam exclaimed to thunderous cheers and applause. He slipped on a magnificent ruby and diamond engagement ring with a black gold band.

You could not believe this, “I can’t-,” you started, but Sam discreetly grabbed your wrist, “Pre-wedding jitters,” and led you to a side room.

You expected him to hit or yell at you like so many other royals in a similar setting, but instead he gave a sad smile and asked if you were truly happy in your old life. You thought about your crushing debt, little to no job prospects, both parents dead, no friends and you had to admit your life did suck, but he didn’t get to decide.

Disappointed, Sam casted a small compliance spell and pulled you in for a kiss. Your pupils blew out in lust and you lost yourself. When he finally decided to break for air, Sam stated that you will be his bride and he will not be denied any longer. You smiled and gave him a short but passionate kiss. He moaned but had to end it before he went too far.

Tomorrow night he promised himself.

He quickly called for Sherry to return you  to your quarters.

Sherry woke you up the next ‘morning’ with a small army of beauty experts and maids.

“Rise and shine, Your Grace! We’ve got a bride to present!” Sherry proclaimed.

Damn it! It wasn’t a nightmare.

They managed to stuff you into a marvel of a wedding dress. It was a Torch Red long-sleeved mermaid wedding dress with soft yet detailed lace work made to look like an enchanted forest, diamond, dark ruby and pearl beads, and a floor length train. On your head was a black gold spiked sunburst goddess with deep ruby roses and a simple ruby teardrop chain that rested on your forehead, the ends of which were wrapped around your horns.

“Not even Lilith could compare, Your Grace!” Sherry gushed at her handiwork.

The wedding procession and ceremony was done in a swift fashion as Sam didn’t want to wait much longer. The vows were short as well. You wanted to object, call for help, anything but a voice in the back of your mind beat you to it.  

A couple hours into the wedding festivities, Sam announced that it was time for he and his new queen to retire and led you to his quarters. It’s the fanciest suite you’ve ever seen dripping with luxurious reds, violets, and obsidian.

In all your awing of Sam’s quarters, you failed to notice him approaching you in only a simple loose shirt and trousers. He gently put his hands on your exposed shoulders,”Alone at last, my love.”

You recoiled, “Can’t we wait for a few days? It’s just…” you trailed off as soon as his jovial expression vanished replaced with something darker and hungrier.

“I’ve waited for so long to have you here with me, love,”  Sam confessed while you moved towards the exit,”and I will not be denied any longer!”

In an instant, Sam pulled you in for a demanding kiss. He pushed his tongue past your lips moaning when your tongue tepidly danced with his own and from the sweet taste of your mouth. He pushed you onto a bed that had to three times the size of a California King and his lips moved jaw and neck, egged on by needy whimpers and moans.

He took his time ripping off your gown, enjoying the view like a child on Christmas, ”Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Utter perfection,” Sam murmured as he watched your breasts bounced free. He alternated between sucking and pinching your nipples with his hands and mouth,”I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered in your left ear and he continued to play with your breasts like a concert-level musician. All the while moaned and cried out feeling pleasure you never thought possible.

Once satisfied with his handiwork with your chest, Sam’s hands roamed over your stomach and hips followed by strategically placed butterfly kisses that made you squirm. He tore off the last of your wedding gown causing you to hiss at the sudden sensation of cold air touching your pussy.

You used your last bit of willpower to plead, “Please stop! I’ve never-,” Sam stopped and raised his head to look at you.

“I know, love. I’ll be your first and only,” and with that, he gives your folds one long, slow lick and growled at your sweet and tangy taste, “I’ve wondered how you’d taste. You’re even better than the best Kharian wine. I could get used to this.”

He dove back in and played your pussy for all it was worth. His tongue worked its magic stroking and circling your clit sending you higher and higher into euphoria. Sam kept you right on the edge of an orgasm, just enough to beg for release.

“Say you’re mine!,” you mewled in response, to blissed out to use words. “Say it or I’ll leave!”

“Please let me cum, My King!” you cried out when he thrusted two fingers into your pussy.

“That’s a good girl. Now,”Sam started as he vigorously rubbed your pussy,”cum for me, love.”

Your orgasm came like a tsunami and Sam made sure finish his feast.

You got out of your post-oral haze to see Sam looming over in all his naked glory. His body must’ve been made by the gods because it was divine. His frame was an ode to sexiness wrapped in sinful warm sepia skin.

Sam caught you biting your lower lip and cocked his head, “Like what you see?”

Damn that cocky bastard, but damn if he wasn’t right. Part of you wanted to fuck his brains out…and that was before you saw his cock. Standing proud and erect with angry veins, his cock had to be the biggest you’ve ever seen (not like you had much exposure, just a few pornos).

Sam crawled up to you, lifted your chin and gave a soft kiss on the lips sensing your unease, “Relax, love,” He then lined his cock to your entrance and slid in as gently as he could.

You hissed from the pain, he was just so damn big. Sam praised you on how well you fit around him like ‘you were made for him’. Once the pain subsided, you bucked your hips into his causing him to moan at the sensation. He smiled at your eagerness and picked up the pace, making his thrusts come out to just the tip was in you and slamming back into you. You cried out his name each time he filled you to the hilt, pleading with him to go faster. Soon he reached your G-Spot causing to orgasm again, this time with you crossing your eyes and coming with a squirt.

Not too long after your second orgasm, Sam came with an otherworldly roar and glowing bright gold eyes shooting rope after rope of thick cum into your womb. He then flipped you onto your stomach and forced you onto your hands and knees so that he could take you from behind.

He got ten orgasms from you, each one more mind-blowing than the last. Once he was satisfied, he let you sleep.

“Soon you will be round with my seed, and we will have many children. I can’t wait.”

Ah hour after you closed your eyes, Sam left his, now yours, quarters. “Make sure she doesn’t leave,” he orders the guards although, he’s confident that she’s not going anywhere with the way he hammered her.

He strode down the corridors until he reached the dungeon. There, he found a rather nice looking apartment-style cell with only one prisoner, your mother.

“I’ve taken your daughter. Do you want to see her before you go?”

You see, Samael, Mikael (Bucky), and Stelios (Steve) were demon warlords who began conquering kingdoms left and right 1200yrs ago. They fought their way to the last free kingdom, Kharan. By the time your grandparents were brought before them, they had killed your uncle, the heir to the throne. The king and queen begged for their lives and the kingdom to be spared.

The trio agreed on one condition: if the next child the queen bears is a girl, then she would be Sam’s mate (Mikael and Stelios already had mates).

The king reluctantly agreed. The queen gave birth four months later to a girl, but she was in demon form. The queen had two of her most trusted attendants spirit the child away to another realm and raised her as their own.

Sam had your grandparents slaughtered and razed Kharan to the ground for their trickery. No matter, he was immortal. He would bide his time.

Eventually, your mother was told about her true parentage and form. She learned to control her powers, found love and she too was with child.

Sam found her a week before she went into labor and said that it was time to collect. She promised you in her stead immediately in hopes that it would buy her some time.

It did. She was able to pass you, a cambion, off to a friend of hers who wanted a child but couldn’t conceive and gave Sam a fake baby. He had your mother thrown into the dungeons.

Sam searched for you, but discovered that your mother put a cloaking spell on you. So, he approached your mother with a deal: her freedom for you becoming his mate.

It took your mother three years of torture for her to say yes.

Once the spell was lifted, Sam went to work. He made sure your adopted parents had a little ‘accident’ when you were old enough to take care of yourself, made sure that no one would want to hire you, and saddled you with debt. He even got Mikael and Stelios to pose as ‘The Star Spangled Trio’ with him to finally get you to the Hall of Mirrors.

Your mother bowed her head in shame, “No. It’s best for her to believe that I don’t exist.”

Sam unlocked the cell door with a simple spell, “You’re free to go. Have a nice life,” and returned to his quarters to be with his mate and queen.

Your mother took one last look at the palace,”I’m sorry, my little moon and stars,” and disappeared into the night.

Taglist: @jtargaryen18​ @threeminutesoflife​​ @giorno-plays-piano​ @lookiamtrying​ @sherrybaby14​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @life-of-yn​ @mcudarklibrary​ @marvelfansworld​ @imdarkinme​ @sapphirescrolls​ @samingtonwilson​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @pseudonymphet​ @dahkness​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @golden-ariess​ @chixkencxrry​ @anyatheladyclown​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @saint-bvcky​ @cherienymphe​ @iguessweallcrazyithinktho​ @cockslut-padalecki​

[full-of-roman-angst-trash]

A Prince’s Room

Part 2

Concept by @yeet-ceit

TW: Unsympathetic Sides (Except for Roman), Perfectionism, Self-Doubt, Cursing, Arguing, Injury? (Roman gets slapped). If I missed any, pleased tell me and I will add it.

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1807

Roman wants to be perfect. No, he needs to be perfect. And part of being perfect is being a good friend. Roman loves the other sides. He loves them more than anything in the world. Even more than Disney and musical theater. His friends are the main reason why his still holding on. He doesn’t want to lose them. He can’t lose them. He won’t survive if he does.

So, to make sure he doesn’t he takes notes. He writes down ways to make sure he’s constantly improving. Any bad habits that the others point out or flaws he writes down and tries to fix. 

The lists went on and on. Hung up on the walls of his room to make sure he always remembers. And as time goes on, more and more is added to the list. Every small addition getting him one step closer to perfection.

Remember to keep your voice level normal. Don’t talk too loudly.

Stop being so dramatic, you're taking too much attention away from the others.

Don’t be too confident, it comes off as cocky and no one like someone that’s too cocky.

Don’t rant about your interest for too long it gets annoying and boring.

Don’t be selfish, no one likes a selfish person.

....................

The chart came along a few months later. 

Roman had already been taking notes on how to please his friends however he decided to reorganize his notes into a chart. Each side had their own section containing list of what they liked, disliked, what cheered them up, and what upsets them.

Logan

Likes: Crofters, astrology, coffee, books, teaching, silence, human anatomy, schedules, deadlines, Thomas being productive, debating, constellations, being listened to, law, learning, classical music, poetry, Sherlock.

Dislikes: Being ignored, unnecessary emotions, sweets, dumb people, someone being too loud, childish movies, games, being behind schedule, illogical decisions, jokes, unrealistic dreams.

What makes him happy?: Stargazing, writing, meeting deadlines, winning debates, telling random facts, rapping, his onesie, reading, being left alone, being called cool, teaching.

What upsets him?: Being treated as a joke, being teased, being reminded of his mistakes, making mistakes, being ignored or overlooked, losing a debate, feeling dumb.

Patton

Likes: Cookies, drawing, cure animals, compliments, happy songs, seeing his friends happy, t.v shows, helping others, singing, dancing, playing dress up, stuffed animals, gifts, holidays, baking, sweets.

Dislikes: Screaming, loud noises, getting stuff thrown at him, blood, weapons, violence, seeing his friends injured, sad movies and stories.

What makes him happy?: Cuddles, movie nights, being showered with affection, cookies, drawing, karaoke nights, talking about his emotions, playing games with his friends, helping others, his onesie. 

What upsets him?: Seeing an animal die, seeing people in pain, being forced to grow up, seeing his friends in hurt, not being able to help someone, disappointing someone, letting Thomas down, letting his emotions control him.

Virgil

Likes: Candles, alternative music, spiders, his hoodie, Tim Burton films, My Chemical Romance, headphones, fidget cubes, staying up late, drama shows, bats, knives, collecting pins.  

Dislikes: The ocean, sudden loud noises, cheesy pop music, people that are too optimistic (except for Patton), someone being mean to his friends,

What makes him happy?: Doing makeup, painting his nails, listening to music, Patton’s baking, playing with his pet spider, meditating, watching murder myterious, watching Disney and Tim Burton movies.

What upsets him?: Being put on the spot, being called evil, being treated like an innocent kid, being called a darkside, being called a disorder rejection, talk about serious topics such as suicide and self harm. 

Remus

Likes: Gore, blood, mud, fighting, collecting weapons, deodorant, musicals, inappropriate jokes, Fleischer Studios, pranks, dancing, mythical creatures, things that glow in the dark, random t.v shows, horror movie, slime, candy, octopus, skirts, crop tops.

Dislikes: Cheesy love songs, rules, normal food aside from fast food, birds, learning, shaving, reading, romance movies/shows, backstabbers, lying, shaving cream, showers, losing fights.

What makes him happy?: Dissecting stuff, fighting, pranking others, dancing, singing, coming up with outfit ideas, punching stuff, playing with slime, reenacting horror movies, inappropriate jokes, hanging out in his trash can, being pet, Shrek, eating deodorant, someone doing his makeup.

What upsets him?: Being abandoned or left behind, being told he isn’t good enough, being compared to me, seeing Janus upset, seeing Virgil upset, being told to shave.

Janus

Like: Snakes, philosophy, Greek mythology, sewing, horror movies, mystery books, murder documentaries, self care, sleeping, warm baths, weighted blankets, debating, law.

Dislikes: The cold, when someone takes his hat, dumb comedy movies, eagles, action movies, unnecessary violence or gore, close minded people, liars, sharing secrets, being vulnerable. 

What makes hims happy?: Massages, weighted blankets, cuddling, hanging out with Remus, acting, having debates, seeing Remus and Virgil playfully argue, watching murder mysteries, singing.

What upsets him?: Being called evil, being ignored, seeing Remus or Virgil upset, Thomas not taking care of himself, being replaced, being left behind, people not understanding him, someone making fun of his scales, taking off his gloves.

....................

“Come on pussy! Let’s just march into his room, what’s the worse that could happen?”

“Language!” Patton quickly scolds Remus.

“What if he’s in there and he screams at us for barging in?! What if he gets really mad and chooses to get physical!? What if we see something we don’t want to!? What if he’s asleep and he get mad that we woke him up!? What if-”

“Virgil,” Logan interrupts the panicking side, “Your anxiety is causing you to catastrophize. Please, take a deep breath and try to filter out your cognitive distortion.”

The anxious side nods and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself.

“Now, I would like to add that I personally believe that Remus’ plan isn’t the worst idea ever and is currently the best one we have.” The logical side states.

“Well, while I love to agree with Remus, he is wrong in this instance,” 

Remus smirks widely, “Awe! Thanks Jany~ You’re too generous~”

The deceitful side rolls his eyes, “Let’s just go.”

“Fine,” Virgil stands up, looking rather done with everything.

The rest of the sides stand up as well and begin to make their way to the prince’s room.

Once they make it to his door, Remus immediately just breaks the door down and lets himself in.

“Surprise!”

 They walk in, greeted only by silence.

“He isn’t here?” Patton mumbles to himself.

“Doesn’t look like it. Let’s not go then.”

The other sides nod and start making their way out. Well, everyone except for Logan. 

The logical side instead gets distracted by a paper stabled to the wall. He walks over to it and reads it to himself. Once he’s done reading his looks around the room and notices all the papers on the wall. As well, as the lack of theater and Disney merchandise.

“Wait, doesn't Roman’s room look,” He pauses to search for the right words, “Wrong?”

The other sides stop walking and looks around.

“Now that you mention it,” Remus mumbles, “His room has changed a lot since I last saw it...”

The other start reading through the endless papers of tips to improve himself and advice. 

Suddenly Patton stops in front of a chart titled “Duties”

He slowly goes over it and buy the time he is done he is fuming with rage.

“What the hell!? Guys come look at this!”

The others go over, slightly amused and concerned.

Each of them take turns analyzing the chart. 

Roman had spend his day at the Imagination. After the whole wedding accident, he’s been stuck in a very toxic place and well he thought a small guest might help. So, he left early in the morning and began his guest. He hadn’t meant to stay there for as long as he did but he lost track of time. 

“Kiddo, we have a lot to talk about,” Patton mumbles in a passive aggressive tone.

....................

As the tired side starts approaching his room, he notices that all the either sides are gathered outside his room. Once he’s a bit closer, Virgil is the first to notice him. To his shock though, Virgil rushes to him and slaps him

“Roman, what the fuck!?”

Roman stands there shocked for a few minutes before looking at Patton, expecting to hear him scold Virgil. Instead however, Patton just look away from him.

“ANSWER ME!”

“I-...” Roman bites his lip to hold back the tears in his eyes, “I-I don’t understand... W-what did I do....?”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING!?”

The prince-like-side flinches and looks down.

Remus puts a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, "Let me handle this.”

For some reason, Roman thought that Remus would be on his side. He thought that if anyone understood what he was trying to do, it would be his brother. Or that his brother would at least explain what happened and let him tell his part of the story.

So, he looked up with a hopeful expression. 

“Don’t look at me like that. What the fuck is wrong with you!? If you think we were such a hassle then why did you stay friends with us!?”

Any hope that Roman had immediately leaves his body, “I-I... I never said that! Where is this coming?!”

“DON’T BULLSHIT ME, ROMAN!” Remus summons his morning star, “WE SAW THE FUCKING CHART! SO, WHAT!? WE’RE NOTHING MORE THAN “DUTIES” TO YOU!?” 

The usual confident side is now frozen in shock. They weren’t supposed to see that chart. They weren’t supposed to see his room at all. If Roman was being honest, he could understand why they took the chart the wrong way. The name of it wasn’t exactly the best but it was all he could think of while actually making it. Now though, he wished he would have pushed himself to think of a better name.

“N-No! You got it all wrong!” He is now crying, flinching away from his brother, “I was just trying to make you guys happy!”

Remus scoffs and puts his weapon away. He walks away from Roman and returns to Janus’ side.

“Whatever, Roman.”

His knees give out and he falls to the floor in defeat.

“I would greatly appreciate if you keep your distance from Patton and I from now on. If you fail to do so, I can’t exactly guarantee that I will be nice. Goodbye Roman.”

“Fucking pussy.” Remus throws out.

And just like that Logan sinks down with a crying Patton.

“And I thought I was the snake,” Janus adds, looking at him in pure disgust.

Then, they’re gone.

For a few seconds Virgil stares at the broken prince in front of him.

“You really are an idiot.”

He looks away from him and sinks down with a scoff leaving the weeping prince on the floor. 

Alone.

....................

[ocw-archive]

The Observer -'I don't like caring what other people think - but I do' (Sun 27 Aug 2006)

Owen Wilson comes across like the most relaxed man in the world. The star of daft movies such as Starsky & Hutch, Wedding Crashers and his latest, You, Me and Dupree, he has an on- and off-screen image that mixes laissez-faire with lady-killer, slacker with Southern good ol' boy.

Wilson is one of the less well-known members of Hollywood's 'Frat Pack' - the group of young comic writers and actors that includes Ben Stiller, Will Ferrell, Vince Vaughn and Owen's brother Luke and which specialises in goofy, verging-on-doofus comedy movies. It's rare for a mainstream Hollywood comedy to emerge now which hasn't got Frat Pack fingerprints all over it - although the group evolved through such esoteric, critically lauded hits as The Royal Tenenbaums, Zoolander, and Rushmore.

In Dupree, a fairly typical Wilson/mainstream Frat Pack film, he plays Dupree, Matt Dillon's best friend who moves in with him and his new bride (Kate Hudson) and gets too comfy to ship out. It suits: even in a PR-marshalled hotel interview Wilson, 37, is laid-back. Literally: stretched out on a day bed, feet slippered, head pillowed, thoroughly at ease. For some reason, he is trying to convince me that he isn't stress-free.

'Dupree is all about being in the moment, and I'm not as good at that as I would like to be. I don't like caring what other people think, but I do,' he says in his chocolatey drawl. 'There's a freedom when you meet someone who doesn't care, who is just themselves in all situations. As a kid, my parents were pretty strict about manners, so I had the way I was with my friends, and then my personality with adults, and that's continued a little bit. To just be yourself, and not try to sell anything, or make a good impression, that's something worth striving towards.'

And he does stress: he gets too anxious to go to premieres. Well, he goes, signs autographs, talks to the press, but then, when the lights go down, he leaves. He had a bad experience with his first film, 1996's Bottle Rocket, which he co-wrote with director Wes Anderson, and starred in alongside younger brother Luke. Bottle Rocket - a comedy about a group of oddballs who embark on a crime spree - did not soar. Panned by audiences, it eventually earned a cult following, with Martin Scorsese naming it as one of his top 10 movies ever made. Anderson and Wilson went on to write the brilliant Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums; Wilson has acted in scores of successful films. But Bottle Rocket still stings: 'When it did so badly, it was such a wounding thing that I don't ever want to care that much again. You waste so much time agonising and worrying.'

So is Wilson just pretending to be relaxed? 'The image - being from Texas, the slacker, surfer thing - you don't think of that and see a worrier, an angst-ridden person, I know that. Also, I'm reasonably polite and that puts people at their ease, so they think you are too.' He does have a talent for rubbing along with people, which he puts down to dealing with his father, Robert. Not that his dad was a monster, but he was 'a tricky person - major mood swings', a high achiever who ran the local TV station when Wilson was a kid and has recently edited a book and TV series about US Presidents called Character Above All. There's a picture on the Character Above All website of Robert A Wilson: you wouldn't want to mess.

But, as a child, Owen did: the second of three brothers, all of whom now make and star in films, he was the classic middle child, slipping under the radar. 'My dad has a friend who does this imitation of coming over to our house at Christmas. And my dad would be like, Did you see that Andrew scored a touchdown? And Luke is over! The friend would say, Where's Owen? And my dad would go, I dunno, he's around here somewhere ...'

Wilson laughs, and tells me that in Rushmore there's a Bill Murray line that is a direct quote from his dad. 'He says: "Never in my wildest imagination did I dream I'd have children like this," and I remember my dad saying this, just shaking his head in disbelief.' Apparently, Mr W calls his sons the 3790 Club, as in three boys, seven high schools, nine colleges, zero degrees. Owen himself was chucked out of his private school for cheating at a geometry test, sent into therapy ('I liked it, but I wasn't totally honest'), then to military school, where he didn't shine. He eventually ended up at the University of Texas, studying English. He flunked.

Still, it was at university that he met Wes Anderson with whom he wrote Bottle Rocket. Owen only acted in it because they couldn't find anyone else: he's never studied, and most of his parts seem to be a distillation of his real self. On the subject of the latter, there have been umpteen rumours that he and Kate Hudson are dating (she recently split from her husband). He denies it: 'I'm single, despite what people say. I think hopefully I'll meet someone that I'll want to have a family with, that's what I would like.' It's hard to believe he hasn't got a girlfriend, but he's admitted that his laziness can let him down, as it did when he dated Sheryl Crow. He told Playboy magazine that 'because of my lack of focus, the relationship went south'.

Perhaps it's because he has brothers, but Wilson has always seemed to get on better with men: his films are almost all buddy movies, and he tells me that he likes chatting with the kind of bloke that others would dismiss as odd. 'I've always had a good radar for characters, and for me, talking to somebody like that over the period of a day is interesting or amusing.'

There can't be many Hollywood stars who spend their days in such a manner; but, despite appearances, Wilson is clever and determined enough to organise his life so that it suits him. Is he going to do any more writing, I wonder, because his scripts are very good, and he says he's meeting up with Woody Harrelson in the next few days. 'We're going to write for a couple of weeks in Europe.'

What about? 'Well, there's not been so much discussion about what we're going to write, there's been a little more thought into where the writing's going to take place. Some people would say you should go write some place where there's not a lot of distractions, but we're going the other way. Anybody can do that! We're thinking of Amsterdam. Let's prove that we really are disciplined! Everyone's betting against us, but we're confident ...' And he twinkles like a man who doesn't know what worry means.

· You, Me and Dupree opened on Friday

One more thing ...

You, Ben Stiller, Vince Vaughn, Jack Black and your brother Luke in a huge Frat Pack fight. Who would win?

Wow. That's a good old-fashioned donnybrook there. You know, Ben is strong, he's solid. And Vince is very tall and very big and I think he studied some boxing. Luke's pretty tough. So that leaves Jack Black, and he just did Nacho Libre, so maybe he picked up some wrestling moves. I'd definitely know I'd been in a fight.

What are your qualifications?

Er ... Jeez ... I'm not a college graduate. When I went to military school, I left as private first class, I didn't exactly shoot through the ranks. I can drive. I'm good at ping-pong. And backgammon. I'm very competitive with games. Like if we went into the park and threw a tennis ball at a tree to see who could hit it - I can do things like that for hours.

What posters did you have on your bedroom wall as a teenager?

Billy Idol. And a lot of James Dean. Then when I met Wes [Anderson], in his apartment he had a lot of James Dean stuff. I just thought James Dean was cool and I wanted to be like him. But now I think being cool is too much effort. Look at Elvis, he started out being cool and eventually he was like, 'Ah, it's too much trouble, I'll settle for a white cat-suit.'

Would you ever cut your hair?

I'm about to make a film in India with Wes and he was talking about me dyeing my hair. And when I grew up I never had it long, and I know that if I had short hair I would feel like I'd do better in that fight with all those comics.

[whump-town]

“It’s a Date”

@random-ravings this is for you... I know you asked for a full blown date night but for some reason I am unable to do it to the fullest. I also don’t know enough about romantic get away but I do hope this suffices 

“Do you trust me?”

She’s not sure what level of insanity she must have been on the other night to think that her slip up at JJ’s wedding would be forgotten by her anal rentenive boss. Low and behold, here he sits in her drive-way trying to coerce her into his black jeep with the promise of a get away looming ahead of them. Of course, the details of said adventure are hidden behind the dark shades covering his soft eyes but his warm smile is pulling her in. Despite the cold knife of trust issues reminding her that he’s only being nice because he feels bad for her. 

Not because of the way he’d held her as they danced. Or the spark that her touches sends down his spine, leaving him shuddering and reaching for more. As if she’s a cigarette to place between his teeth and draw a healthy pull off of. She’s the kindest person he knows and no matter how much distance he puts between them he craves her like nicotine in his lungs. 

He always comes back wanting more.

Behind her own sunglasses, she sizes up his jeep. It’s not really what she was expecting but when is Aaron Hotchner ever predictable? Picking up the suitcase at her ankles, she shakes her head finally coming to answer the question he’d proposed upon placing the car in park. An inquiry on trust. She trusts him with her life-- with her heart-- but she doesn’t risk the reaction the truth has. “About as far as I can throw you,” she grumbles with an eye-roll and a smirk she can’t contain.

The soft chuckle that leaves his mouth has her head jerking, frowning at the sound she hasn’t heard enough of to consider he’d made it. Her reaction only makes the smile on his face grow and she stands for a loaded second just basking in the warmth that placing that smile on his face gives her. She has to shake her head to pull her thoughts back to the problem at hand-- Hotch and whatever trick he has up his sleeve. 

“So,” she tosses her bag in the back beside one that’s identical to her own. Out of habit, she bites her tongue instead of observing that ‘great minds think alike’. If Reid were here he’d conclude ‘fools seldom differ’. Hotch might not come to that same conclusion but it’s too late to tell. “Where are we going?”

Hotch takes a moment to respond. He puts the car into reverse, pulling out of her driveway in a swift but solid motion. It’s easy to forget that Hotch really is a good driver-- even if he spends a lot of government hours bashing the cars he’s driving into UNSUBs. He has a lack of regard when it comes to his own life. 

She wonders why.

“We’re on vacation time,” comes his answer, a strange crooked, care-free nature to the smile he flashes her way. There’s something youthful about it. She imagines he used to be like this all time. Quick with a joke and lighthearted before the job weighed him down. 

She nods, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to worry at it. He hasn’t told her much about the excursions besides to dress for the weather and to bring a nice outfit for a fancy dinner. The amount of things that could mean worries her more than she’d like to admit.

He catches sight of the anxious frown she settles on his dash and decides that the gig is up. Besides, how much fun can his plans be if she’s not equally as excited? He clears his throat, “there’s this B&B that JJ always gushes about--”

Emily’s eyes light up, “The Monty House?”

He chuckles at her clear excitement. Her voice had gone up, softening considerably like the way Jack might shout-out when offered a bowl of ice cream before bed. If he’d known it would be this easy to make her happy he might have done this silly little trip a long time ago.

Actually, that is a lie. His nerves have been wracked for the better part of the last week since he made the reservation. There’s no way he could have done this without the prompting of both her ‘It’s a date’ and the dance they shared at JJ’s wedding. 

Admittedly, he can be a bit of a coward but his heart is pretty damaged. He’s not sure he can handle Emily stomping on it.

Judging from the smile lighting up her face though, heart stomping isn’t on the agenda. In fact, she could kiss him.

“Yeah.” His shoulders relax as the tension leaves his body in the nervous chuckle he lets out. His hands get some blood back as his grip on the wheel loosens, his poor knuckles returning to a fleshy tone instead of bone white. “The-The Monty House,” it feels good to have that off his chest. “The whole weekend.” Of course, he won’t tell her everything he has planned. No point in spoiling the whole weekend.

He finds himself smiling. How does she do that to him? Twist his stomach in knots with her silence and then have him smiling so hard his face hurts the next second.

“Does that mean we’re stopping for road snacks?”

There are few instances when they drive to crime scenes but on occasion a crime only warrants sending two agents. It’s no secret that on those particular occasions, he prefers going with Emily. She’s comfortable in their joined silence unlike Reid who anxiously fills it. There’s no pressure to talk about his personal life like with Dave who’s endless lines of question never seem to stop. 

With Emily there is  just… ease.

And snacks. Lots of snacks.

“Check the glove compartment,” he says with a smile. He knew she’d need refreshments even for a simple two and a half-hour road trip. He knows a lot about her actually.

She raises an eyebrow and, sure enough, she finds his glove compartment filled with snacks. There’s a red gatorade along with the SweetTart Ropes, Sunchips, and Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwich. It’s the kind of  thing that looks like a thoughtless addition. Red gatorade is a straightforward go to drink but she knows it’s more than that. It’s the only gatorade she likes and he knows that.

Just like he knows her favorite chips are Sunchips and that she thinks PB&Js are a timeless classic. 

“Aaron Hotchner,” she smiles at the little collection of snacks in her lap. “You’re the sweetest man I have ever met.” 

Hotch feels his face get impossible hot, despite the cool air coming in through the window beside his head. He can’t look at her because he knows she’ll see the blush and the last thing he needs is giving her that power. Not when he’s got a whole weekend to spend with her and countless opportunities to bring up him blushing like a schoolgirl over a compliment. He clears his throat, “uhm, thank you.”

Fifteen minutes in and she’s already getting the better of him… good God how are the next two hours going to pan out?

“Good God!”

Her sudden outburst causes him to jump in his seat. The car doesn’t jerk or accelerate but he’s good and jostled from the comfort he’d settled in. He looks over at her, eyebrows going up as he realizes she’s looking at him. “What?”

Oh.

She looks smacked with worry, the kind that he knows isn’t going to go away easily. “When was the last time you slept?” 

There’s always the option to play dumb but from his experiance attempting to pull one over on Dave-- it’s very unbecoming. He can always tell the truth but that’s about as good of an idea as leveling his loaded service weapon to his temple. He could meet her half-way. Exclude all bits involving Beth-- that she’d broken up with him after JJ’s wedding. Something she’d been thinking about doing anyways but after seeing him with Emily there were things she, evidently, couldn’t avoid.

But he’s still got to explain how that was nearly a week ago. 

He clears his throat, pulling his sunglasses back into place-- hiding the evidence. “Uhm,” he’s really bad at buying himself time and each second that passes means another moment she’s going to weigh whatever lie he comes up with. So he settles for a truth, just not all of it. “You’re not the only one who’s had a bad week.”

There’s a soft moment of contemplative silence shared between them as Emily considers exactly what that means. It sounds straightforward enough but Hotch is admitting to something being wrong and that’s not as simple as one plus one is two. 

“Do you…” she licks her lips, unsure of exactly what it is she should do. She knows what he would say to her but the giving and taking of their relationship hasn’t been set up. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He grimaces at that offer but he realizes that’s unfair of him. He’s asked her to admit to him when she needs help. To her credit, she has on multiple occasions. So, it’s wrong to ask that of her and then put up his walls. This is no easier for her than it is for him.

“You wanna make another deal?” she asks. She reaches over and pokes him in the side with one of her candies, smiling when she bites into it. He raises an eyebrow at her, shaking his head. No matter how much time he spends with her… she never ceases to confuse and exasperate him. Even now, chewing on candy and trying to pry into his mind. “If I have to tell you when I’m having a bad day, you have to tell me.” 

He grunts, raising his eyebrows but turning his attention to the road. He hates that idea. He can’t and won’t lie about that but is that not the same ultimatum he gave her? The instances are fundamentally different-- the trauma she was reeling from was fresh in all of their minds and he could be a sympathetic ear to that. Especially, if hearing about the worst parts of her day granted her a longer stay with them.

With him.

Now, it’s a little different. The things he needs to tell her about are a lot more personal. It’s not about the connection of Foyet and Doyle-- the sheer thought of which sends a cold chill down his back. Now if she wanted to talk about that he would still be adamant but, at least, it would be helpful. 

“Aaron?”

He snaps away from his thoughts, having worked up a slight cold sweat from the directions of his thoughts. He shouldn’t be thinking about Foyet. That won’t help anyone. With a shake of his head he stutters a confirmation to her idea. “Uh-Yeah, s-sure.”

His eyes are on the road but he’s about a million miles away. He just keeps thinking about Foyet. 

Emily’s not sure what to do. 

Hotch is her friend. In many aspects, her best friend and as jouveline as those words are often made to sound she means it in the most sincere way. She trusts him with her life and beyond that, in ways that she’s not yet encountered. She means that when she comes to a crossroads in her life he is always there. 

Just like now, as she grapples with the decision to leave for London or stay. He’s her right-hand man and… now, she’s uncertain as to how she should repay that. 

Of how she can. 

It feels like an endless pit separating them. She starts there.

He’s driving with his left hand, leaving the right to rest limply in his lap while the other’s knuckles turn white with the tension his whole body is failing to hide. Silently, she reaches over and nudges his forearm with her hand. He scowls down at her hand, confused but he caves and moves his it.

He huffs a little when she takes his hand. Surprised more than anything else. The only hand he’s held in years is Jack’s and, even now, Jack’s getting too big for that. 

“I do mean it,” she says, giving his fingers a tentative squeeze. “You’ve heard all my stories. You know all my drama…” She smiles, just thinking about it. “I think I can handle what little drama Aaron Hotchner encounters in his day to day life.” 

He chuckles at that. It’s a good point. His life isn’t chocked full of twists and turns. Jack has some interesting moments-- mostly his bully turned best friend Paul. She already knows about that though. That leaves nothing really. What’s he so afraid of?

“Alright,” he relents, returning her gentle squeeze. He clears his throat, “but can we talk about it later? After--”

She cuts him off, “we can talk about it whenever you feel comfortable.”

Something in his chest settles and he relaxes. He doesn’t notice until several minutes later but he doesn’t pull his hand away from hers.

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

They were supposed to get two rooms but that’s too much to ask for and they end up in a room with two twin size mattresses an arms length away. Neither are that worried with the proximity. As far as sleeping arrangements go, this is still better than about 90% of the hotels they’ve stayed in over the years.

The problem is what might haunt them at night.

The last thing Emily wants is to wake Hotch up in the middle of the night thrashing like a heathen possessed but the freaking devil because her subconscious loves to taunt her with Ian Doyle. 

Talk about making things awkward between them.

It doesn’t seem to bother Hotch though. The first thing he does upon putting their bags at the ends of their beds is collapse onto a bed. He doesn’t move for a solid five minutes, just lays on his stomach, face down. She’s starting to worry about him-- hoping he’s just managed to fall asleep and not dead-- when he groans and sits back up. 

He runs a hand through his bedhead and Emily has to look away-- damn, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is. 

“You up for anything on this itinerary?” 

She can’t turn around because she's very aware of the fact that he’s standing right behind her. He offers her the booklet and she takes it, unable to breathe until he takes a step back. She can hear the sound his five o’clock shadow makes as he scratches at his chin and-- good God give her a freaking break her heart can’t take this. 

“Uhm,” she keeps her eyes trained on the paper but for the life of her she can’t focus on the words. She just keeps thinking about the fact that Aaron Hotchner is about a foot away looking drowsy and soft. He looks like he’s dead on his feet. “Why don’t we just get dinner and go to bed early?”

As much as he wants to just agree with her and call it a night-- he’s adamant that she actually wants that. “Are you sure?”

She nods, “yeah. You’re tired--”

He stands, shaking his head. “No,” he tells her. “We’re here so that you can relax. I can handle whatever it is that you want to do.” He takes the booklet back, flipping through it and looking down the list. He scowls in concentration and she finds it endearing but also hardheadily aggravating. 

“Hotch, I mean it.”

He finds one and points at it, asking, “how about a massage?”

She rolls her eyes. “Aaron,” she says, folding the booklet up despite his light attempts to tell her no. “I just want to eat some dinner and go to bed.” 

He deflates a little… he wants her to have a fun time and he feels like she’s giving that up because of him.

“I mean it.” She starts to pull at her hair, raking her fingers through her thick hair to work it into a ponytail. “Besides,” she says, “JJ said they have a killer grilled cheese and I’ve been dying to find out if that’s true.”

That he believes. 

So they have grilled cheese in the room, passing small talk back and forth. Emily finds Jurassic Park on the TV and at nine thirty when he turns his bedside light off, he reassures she’s fine to leave her own. Even if it makes her feel pretty silly that she’s managed to get herself worked up over a PG-13 movie from the 90s. 

She is fighting her own fitful sleep when she hears the soft sound he makes from the other bed. Everytime she closes her eyes Ian Doyle is right there. Blood seeps between his teeth and, this time, Hotch is there too. Ian draws a knife close to Hotch’s throat, it’s bared for easy access by the tight grip Ian has on Hotch’s hair. 

She wakes just as the blade draws blood. 

Judging from pained grunt Hotch lets out, her demons aren’t the only ones coming out tonight. 

“Hotch?” She’s not entirely sure what she should do. Hotch’s hearing has been on the mend for the better part of five years. It’s not his strongest sense-- they’d all found better ways to his attention than calling out his name but right now waving a hand at him or throwing a piece of crumpled paper isn’t going to get the job done. 

“Hotch!”

She stumbles back as he sits bolt upright, his breathing ragged. For a moment, she sits stunned on her bed. Watching as he looks down at the comforter across his legs, unable to place where he is. She can hear his breathing become more distressed, a wheezing groan tearing from his mouth as he raises his head to look around.

“Hotch?”

His left hand comes up to his chest, clenching his t-shirt tight in his fist. He’s steadily working himself up. 

She stands up, calling his name softly again and frowning when he doesn't look at her. “Aaron,” she hesitates just a step from the bed. He looks up just as she stops, tears streaming down his face, and she can’t bear the sight. “Oh, sweetie.” She climbs into his bed and pulls him into a hug. He shakes in her arms and her heart breaks for him. 

He always stops and checks up on her but… what has he been hiding from them to let things get this bad?

“So, we’ve both been having some bad days.” She buries her face into his shoulder, breathing in the steady and warm scent of Hotch. She’s unable to pick apart the distinct parts of the way he smells. There’s aftershave and deodorant but also laundry detergent and… he smells the way home does. Distinct and safe. She’d know him if she were blind and deaf and scared out of her mind. 

Aaron. 

He leans into her touch but the way she holds him isn’t making it easier to breathe. Her fingers spread out on his neck, working against the way his hair grows to scratch as his scalp. He feels himself melting into her and in return, she does the same.

They’re just a puddle of humans. Welded together. Neither is able to escape the hold of either. She’s practically sitting in his lap and, in return, he’s wrapped a leg around her back. 

“Why weren’t you sleeping?” he asks, voice muffled by her shirt. He’s settled back down, able to pull in a steady stream of oxygen. It doesn't get caught in his throat. What it’s doing is letting the exhaustion creep back into his bones. He’s too weary to rest. 

Emily pauses just long enough to realize that there’s no way he’s going to believe her if she says anything besides the truth. At the same time… “Who said I wasn’t,” she whispers, wincing at just how much her voice betrays her. She moves and presses her face into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes tight with the false hope he’ll let it go. 

She can feel the way he tenses, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t believe her. 

There’s still a small inkling in the back of his mind that says-- you woke her up. 

“Nightmares,” she finally answers. His fingers spread across her back, thumb trailing spine. “Doyle--” she hates the way he tenses at the mention of the other man’s name. She’d done everything to protect them and all she’d done was hurt them worse. She certainly made things worse for him. Forced him to lie to the only family he has to protect her-- a woman who lied about her career and entered his team to blackmail him.

But he eases after a moment. He rubs his hand up her back, offering her the same comfort she’d extended. 

She sinks into his chest. “Doyle was going to kill you,” she whispers. Her tears run hot and he can feel through his shirt. 

He presses a kiss to her hairline. He holds her to him, shaking his head. “It’s alright now,” he promises, throat thick. He’s painfully reminded of his own dreams. Waking up and having to scrub his hands in the sink to reassure himself that his subconscious has just been very unkind. That her blood is not caked under his nails. 

That she’s home.

Sleeping.

Alive. 

He wonders how many cadets the two of them could scare away. Tell a room full of kids-- that’s what she was when she was scouted out of college-- that taking that oath means more than they’re currently able to give. It’s the nine stab wounds on his chest. It’s talking serial killers down from suicide even when as they stand to realize the world would be a better place if they through with it. It’s demons that you can never really get away from.

“Can we just…” she wants to ask him to just hold her. To spend the night like this. She loses her nerve. Swallowing thickly around the tightness in her throat, she leans back from his shoulder. There’s only an inch of space between their faces. Her hands reach for him on it’s own accord, her thumb tracing his jawline. 

“Emily,” he whispers, his eyes moving back and forth between hers. Unable to figure out what he should do. 

She looks down at his lips, her cheeks burning. 

“I-I don’t want you to do anything you might regret,” he manages, eyes giving away the vulnerability behind the statement.

She kisses him. It’s a hungry, desperate kiss that he leans into. “Something like that?” she asks a moment later.

He nods, unable to find words. 

“Can we just lay here,” she asks. “Will you just hold me?”

He nods, can’t trust his voice. 

She trusts him though. She falls asleep in his arms. 

He lays there for the longest time. Her head is tucked under his chin and, even in her sleep, she’s holding his hand. 

The ceiling turns. 

His anxiety is creeping up but each time he gets to the point of hyperventilation she moves a little in her sleep. 

She doesn't know what she’s getting herself into.

She’s not going to love him.

Not for long.

“Aaron?” She blinks and pulls the blanket up to their chins. “Go to sleep.”

[editorialsonlife]

Well

Welp, feeling like doing an update because there's been a lot going on to be honest. its one of those weird dichotomies where every day feels like an eternity and there's so much going on and then you look back and you're like oh, ok its just my brain making it difficult and making things take forever but anyway.

LOCKDOOOOOOOWWWWWWNNNNNNN

Lockdown life was good, apart from being thrust into it so suddenly dave left a banana on his desk. Wasn't great to come back to after 5 weeks out of the office - mummified mouldy banana!! Classic. We luckily got our first jab before lockdown started so that was good, and we were reasonably well stocked up on food and were generally a lot healthier this lockdown that last. honestly, there's a level of chill and serenity in lockdown that i just love. the ability to set my own schedule and only work the hours I actually work to get the job done? Amazing. getting 8.5 hours of sleep each night without having to wake to an alarm blaring? AMAZING. getting to go for walks every afternoon? SO FLIPPING GOOD. I love it so much, I really really do. I need this to be my life permanently.

WORK

Work is just ongoing and draining and honestly, coming back to the office was so fucking stressful and it was only one day. Being at home is just the fucking bomb. Pending home decisions, I wanna go contracting I think, but also ideally two part time contracts to have more flexibility? I dunno. You'd think a big 4 would provide variety but it really doesn't and honestly, with Richie leaving, wellington is just a sinking ship. Sean's off on parental leave, Kirstyn is down to four days a week, ben will be gone if he doesn't get promoted (and I don't think he will be tbh). Jack is just muddling along, Nigel wants to swap to consulting as well, Matt's going to be a shit leader in terms of bringing in work so it's just not going to work. and in our wider group it's going to get even more messy with heaps of the analysts leaving and a couple of senior hires too. so I think it's probably time to jump ship in general, pending the home stuff below. Also, coming back after a break again, I'm like, I don't actually like a lot of you? All the people I enjoy here are in other teams and groups, and I'll be sad to leave you all, but like, not enough to stay anyway lol.

Pending the home below, two options are to just going and get a job with a $30k payrise to make up for the maternity leave benefits I'm gunna leave behind when I leave this role - 18 weeks full pay, $100 a week for the first year back and a full year of maternity leave. It's basically 30k post tax which is a bit nuts to walk away from to be honest.

Otherwise the other option is to go contracting. Less security overall but holy shit so much money. If I went in as a project coordinator at the lowest rate to build up a bit of a portfolio I'd need to work 40 weeks of 40 hr weeks and Id basically match my current salary plus the lost family leave benefits and still qualify for govt maternity leave payments. Realistically I could go in as a project manager for $140 an hour ($60 more an hour than the above math) and absolutely smash it at that level as well so ya know, there's a bunch of other info. I like the idea of the flexibility of it and only having 6 months even if its a shitshow and beign able to walk away at the end of it. I really don't want to get a govt job and this is a v govt town which is fine but also, if I can avoid it that would be great. I just know I'm not gunna thrive in that environment.

Need to talk to Dave to get him across the line on the security issue part of that though. I've mostly come a long way in terms of my financial management (thanks YNAB) so I think he'd be ok with it mostly.

So there's a lot to toss up there because......

HOME

We got the reno plans done during lockdown, finally. which was super good. but holy fkn jesus $$$$$$ ++++++++++. The guy is coming around for the final quote on Thursday. We indicatively said $100k total because we're doing kitchen laundry bathroom and toilet. so only the most expensive rooms and when I was talking to him last week he said 'that might cover it' and they're seeing cost escalations of 7-10% a week which is just insane. we're not doing anything structural apart from putting in a cavity slider in the bathroom, and the quote they'll give us won't include flooring since they won't do it.

Meanwhile, the prefab homes I were looking at for our site were $425k fully done. Like, I'm not going to spend $130K on doing up my 1940s ex state house ya know? That's not good cost benefit ratio.

So depending on what that comes out at on thursday we'll be able to make some plans.

We also want to start trying for kids next year and need these renos done first - I am not having kids and no dishwasher lol.

Also we need bank financing so good to be in a permanent stable job for that application. the good thing is we have so much equity we know we can borrow whatever we need, I just don't want to spend that much money on it because it's fkn ridiculous. and if I'm going on maternity leave we need to be able to cover it all on dave's salary and whatever benefits I have as well so there;s a lot of financial planning and spreadsheeting going on at the moment lol. it's fab.

either way. we've got plenty of options up our sleeve. we've got friends who's brother owns a building company so we can talk to them, we've got the garage so we can get things prefabricated even if they're not installed til next year, Dave can get shit at cost through his work for whiteware, there;s plenty of things to like cost control we can do, we just need to know where we're starting from basically. thats the challenging part. but we'll figure it out, its just taking longer than I want it to basically.

We also planted up the vege garden for the spring/summer which was lovely, super jazzed about that. we've finally got the garden to a reasonably low maintenance level where everything is mostly under control and it's such a relief, honestly.

PERSONAL

Man what a shift to lockdown last year honestly. I think the last 8 weeks in particular has just been like, a massive reality check of how absolutely shit the last year was and how fucking glad I am to be rid of it. I spent a week absolutely spiralling 2 weeks ago now and honestly, I don't know how I lived in the state for more than a year. I actually don't know how I did it. and I could not be more glad that I'm finally on the other side of it, for the most part. There's still a bunch of other stuff to work through (hahahahahaha when is there not like damn) but fucking hell its nice to just not be anxious and nauseous and wound up constantly. life is actually accessible. miracle.

My workmate had his bebe - I went round and got newborn cuddles and was like, oh, is this what it is to be clucky? this is odd. so there's that as well. I think we'll probably start trying next year pending renos and jobs etc. If the renos can be done in jan I'll prob just stick it at the job to get the benefits but I dunno. it's a tough call to make really. we shall see. This all assumes we get knocked up without any issues which is questionable these days. I really want to feel healthier before getting pregnant as well, and part of that is losing weight. however, given discussing that is what triggered the spiral we're working on that one slowly.

Also, lets have a moment for counselling, because fkn bless anne and all her hard work honestly. I actually ended up emailing her being like, I;m losing my shit on the monday and then talked to her on thursday. And its so funny because it's such a counselling thing but I didn't realise until afterwards what she'd done but she was like you're clearly not doing well and then the night before dave got a fkn miserable migraine and he was up for like, 2 hrs powerchucking except he didn't make it to the bathroom in time so guess who was cleaning up vomit at 130am trying not to chuck herself but I digress. anyway, not doing well, couldn't even explain why, didn't even have words and super tired and she's like, what lynaire up to this week how's she going with izzy and chat about that and then be like how are you feeling about your body and then 5 more mins of chat about the cat and the chickens and then like bam hard question and then hows it going with x and y and z and its like, it wasn't til I was on my walk afterwards when I FINALLY started feeling marginally better I was like damn woman work your magic for figuring it out for me and helping me reregulate. all over the phone as well since we were still in lockdown. GREAT WORK FRIEND.

and then last week was like totally fucked theoretical discussion about religion and the role it's played in my life and fate vs free will and all this nutty shit but genuinely just a great discussion. She's the best and I love her. thank good for good counsellors. thank god I can afford to pay for it honestly.

Dave and I are just chugging along, god bless that man. I love him. its amazing. I miss having friends close by but understand why they had to move (boooooo f u house prices). Family is pretty chill, still not really talking to dave's parents which is nightmarish but we'll deal with that when we need to. gunna have to go and visit them at some point coz dave misses them and I feel for him, I really do. It's the whole boundaries renegotiation I went through with my family last year post wedding blow up and its just not a fun place to be. oh well. can't fix it for him but also I'm not putting up with that level of BS from either of our families once we have children. not gunna happen.

Either way, life is busy and full and fun and I'm enjoying it. Daylight savings starts this weekend too, its october next week WTF and I'm just waiting for 4pm to find out what's gunna happen to our girls trip. Clearly we cancelled our sept trip to christchurch and akaroa and hanmer springs so my covid travel curse continues. fkn ridic. Still dunno what we're gunna do with $2500 of flight credits coz if we get knocked up theres def no international trips happening any time soon.

thus concludes the almost 2000 word write up of life. hope you've enjoyed it. I'll throw up some pics in a separate post if people care about reno plans. such a good time!

[thecluelessredhead]

Sunset Curve: A Hollywood Legacy

Word Count: 2050

Chapter 2 of ??

Additional notes at the bottom.

Chapter Two

Bobby was sprawling in his dressing room, his guitar on his chest, playing with the strings gently. Occasionally, he would stretch out a slender arm and pick up a peanut. He wouldn’t eat it immediately, but hold it up to the light and look at it, as if that specific peanut would tell him the secrets of the universe. He asked once. The peanut didn’t answer. 

Luke came flying into the room while he was performing this ritual. He was grumbling and speaking incoherently, but when he saw Bobby, on his back studying a nut, he stopped, and shut the door slowly.

“Hey, buddy,” he said slowly, like he was talking to a horse that might rear its head at any moment. “You okay?” Bobby nodded, tossing the peanut through the air and catching it in his mouth. “Strike out with Rose?” Luke approached on his toes, still seemingly afraid of Bobby. Again, Bobby just nodded. “She got a boyfriend?” Luke sat down on the edge of the couch Bobby was on. 

Nod.

“His name’s Ray,” Bobby said, his husky voice seeming even deeper through his peanut. 

“Bummer,” Luke sympathized, clapping Bobby on the knee. “But hey! No time to be sad! We go on at the Orpheum in an hour!” 

“Yeah!” Bobby sat up, looking suddenly energized. Then, he registered Luke for the first time, who was dripping wet. “What happened to you?” 

“It’s pouring outside,” Luke answered.

“Good or bad?” Bobby asked, all business. 

Luke grabbed a handful of peanuts. “Could go either way,” he gargled through a mouthful. Bobby grunted his agreement. “Hey, where are Alex and Reggie?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t Alex say he’s just going to get some air?” Bobby asked. Luke shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about Alex. 

“Reggie should be here by now, too,” Luke said, anxiously. 

“They’re gonna make it,” Bobby assured him. Luke took a deep breath, trying to center himself. “Is that all?”

“Huh?” Luke looked at Bobby. He knew what Bobby was asking.

“Is that all you’re upset about?”

Luke stood up, and walked away, facing a small table of trinkets, picking each of them up individually, and examining them closely. “It’s just…” He heaved a sigh, and turned his head, to get a look of Bobby in his peripheral vision. Bobby was watching him closely, but not scrutinizing. Just watching in a way that was careful and kind. “Whenever I imagined this night, my parents were in the front row.”

Bobby didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t know how long it would take him to come up with the right words. Perhaps he would never get there. So, all he could blurt out was, “Maybe they’ll show up. There’s still time!”

“Yeah, thanks,” Luke replied, still playing with the chachkies and sounding very insincere. “I don’t need them.” He turned to face Bobby, his jaw hardening. “I’ve made it this far.” He crossed to the window and threw it open, looking into the rainy world beyond. Bobby turned to follow his movements with a face of patience being lost. Luke pressed his hands against the lower sill and scanned the streets below for Alex or Reggie.

“You miss them.” It wasn’t a question. 

“I don’t need them,” Luke repeated. 

“You said that already.” Luke turned his head slightly so that Bobby could see his jaw tightening. 

“Well, what do you suggest that I do?” he asked rhetorically, turning back to the window and hunching his back slightly. On the streets, there was already a snaking line waiting to get inside. No one seemed to care about the rain, which lifted Luke’s spirits. All of these people were here to see Sunset Curve. They weren’t just some opening act anymore. People cared. Wanted to see them. 

“Play the song,” Bobby said, and for a moment Luke had forgotten he was there. He froze, and turned slowly, keeping his hands on the window, and leaning so far from Bobby, he could feel the rain on his forehead.

“The song?” Luke prompted, although he knew what Bobby was trying to say.

Bobby heaved an enormous sigh, and flopped back onto the couch. What a pair of dramatics they were. “You know.” Bobby stood up and raised his eyebrows pointedly. He walked forward so that he and Luke were nose to nose and Luke could lean no further out of the window. “Unsaid Emily?”

“No!” Luke stood up straight, throwing Bobby away from him. “I wrote that song ages ago!”

“Like a week ago?”

“No!” Luke snapped again, already reaching for the doorknob to leave the room, not even knowing where he intended to go. 

“Look, what do you have to lose?” Bobby spit the question out at his friend, who stopped, his hand on the doorknob, his head turned slightly to the left, his jaw clenched. “Pride?” Coming out of Bobby’s mouth, the word sounded derogatory and pathetic, but he was right. That’s exactly what Luke had to lose. He flung the door open and stormed away from Bobby, leaving the door, and the conversation wide open. But Bobby had his answer. 

Chatter rang through the hall. It bounced off the hallowed walls and reverberated through every room of the theatre, amplified by excitement. The band stood backstage, nerves running high, but not in the same way that they had been before. Now, they felt the kind of nervousness that only came from the moments before seeing your dreams realized. The jabbering hit their ears but stopped there, their brains were too fried with both joy and terror. 

The time had come, and none of the four could believe it. Alex had believed that some horrible fate would befall them before the night would arrive. But, the PA system crackled, and a man with a voice clearly intended for radio said, “Live at the Orpheum. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage Sunset Curve!” The lights went down, and the place fell silent.

As soon as they were on stage, all fear and anxiety melted. They could hardly see the audience through the bright spotlights and their own blinding jubilation. What they didn’t see was the handsome young man who slipped in while the bouncers weren’t paying attention. Willie. He crept over to a table and dropped down next to a very confused girl, without taking his eyes off the drummer. 

The entire show was one big blur, much like a wedding day. Luke Patterson, married to his work. Before long, all four boys were bouncing energetically up and down and drenched in sweat, playing their greatest personal hits, heard by only their most devoted fans. The show went on late into the night, but no one cared about the time, for they were too engrossed. 

When it at last ended and everyone cleared out, no one noticed the teary eyed couple, leaving reluctantly. The woman was short with brown hair that looked constantly frizzy. The man dwarfed his wife, but in a way that made them only look more compatible. They took one last longing look at the band before being forced from the building by the throng. Only two guests chose to stay behind. Willie, despite the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place, and a tall powerful looking woman, who approached the band as they whooped and hollered, living in the high of what they had just achieved. 

Silence fell over the four as she drew near, and they all turned, falling into their classic positions as a part of the group. Luke stepped forward, preparing to represent the band. Alex stood close behind him, almost protectively, as if afraid that the woman would attack. Reggie and Bobby stood behind Luke and to his right, like an anxious audience of the whole thing. Luke looked back at his band mates one last time before turning to face the woman and sticking out his hand. 

She took it and shook it. “Gentlemen. I’m Olivia Garcia.” The four introduced themselves in a similar order that they had to Rose. “Let me get right to the point. I’m an executive for Pacific Records. What I saw tonight was very impressive. I spoke to my colleagues, and we would be happy to represent Sunset Curve.” She passed an awestruck Luke a thin card. “Give us a call.” She gave the frozen boys a small smile, and left the place, brushing past Willie who had an impressed look, gently coloring his face as he looked at Alex and his bandmates. He approached the boys tentatively, who had turned to face each other. High fives were passed and shared eagerly while all the boys whooped with joy and spoke indistinctly over each other.

Alex caught sight of Willie and slipped away from his ecstatic bandmates unnoticed, who were now jumping in childish circles chanting, ‘we played the Orpheum!’. 

“You came,” Alex said, unsure what he meant by that statement. Clearly, Willie had come. Was Alex implying that he was surprised? Was it merely a statement of joy? Was Willie overthinking the whole thing as much as he was?

“Told you I’d find a way.” He grinned.

“A legal way?” Alex teased. Willie blushed and shrugged, rolling his head toward the ground. It had now become apparent to the other three band members that their drummer was no longer an active part of their celebrations. They turned and registered Willie, every possible scenario of who the boy could possibly be running through their heads as they studied his face, particularly the way he looked at Alex, and vice versa. Bobby, who seemed most determined in respecting Alex’s privacy, nudged Reggie, who took Luke by the arm and steered him in the other direction. They then pretended like they weren’t listening as intently as they were, staring at the ceiling and the floor and the stage. 

Willie dropped his joking act to make serious eye contact with Alex, a truly terrifying concept. “You guys were really good.”

“Oh, thanks,” Alex said, sticking his elbows out and turning his head shyly. 

“So, that woman was someone important, huh?” Willie continued.

“Yeah, she said she wants to represent us!” He beamed, glee lighting up his face in an instant. “It’s totally insane, and completely terrifying and I’m so excited!” He went on rambling, and Willie watched, smiling, as Rose approached the other three onlookers.

“Even better than your soundcheck,” she said, giving them an excuse to focus on something other than Alex. Reggie tilted his head and smirked, Luke grinned and thanked her. Bobby did nothing. “Listen, I’m having a party later tonight. Like, now, actually. It’d be great if you guys would come. Beer, fans. Great music, of course.” She waited patiently for their response, and though they dragged it out, her spiel was pretty hard to ignore. “You can even ring you friend.” Rose jerked her thumb back to Alex and Willie, still talking happily. 

“Alright, I guess we’ll come,” Luke agreed, looking at his bandmates with a crooked grin. 

“Great!” Rose gave Bobby the address, and bid them a safe walk.

Luke stepped tentatively toward Alex and Willie, peeking over Alex’s shoulder. “Look, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Alex, we’re headed out. Rose is throwing a party. Your, uh-” Luke searched for the proper word hesitating slightly over the word friend. “-buddy is welcome as well.” He inwardly pinched himself at the foolish choice of words.

Alex turned to Willie, the question in his eyes. 

“No, I couldn’t,” he admitted apologetically. “My folks will be wondering where I am. I catch you later, though?”

“Yeah, of course,” Alex agreed. Willie shot him one last sideways smile, and rushed from the theater.

“Who was that?” Luke asked as soon as he was gone, and Bobby and Reggie hurriedly stepped forward to hear about the mystery man. 

“A guy I ran into,” Alex answered, grinning to himself at his own little pun. “Willie.” He grinned at the way the name felt on his lips. The boys nodded assent.

“Shall we?” Reggie asked, making a large gesture with his arms in the general direction of nowhere.

“Won’t Carla miss you?” Bobby wondered.

Reggie shook his head.”She’ll understand.”

“Then, let’s go boys.” And Luke led the way to the party.

Notes: If you’re with me thanks again! Chapter three will be back hopefully sooner rather than later. If anyone is interested, I can make a tag list, so just let me know.

[drawbauchery]

The Classic Idea

(fic by cartoons-tothemoon)

“Skipper! I need you to kiss me right now!“

“What?”

Despite being a bunch of crackpot agents, ready for anything and everything that the world could throw at them, be it torture, babysitting, or that one tenant that poisoned people who made him mad, it could not be denied that they had a specific scene. A niche, if you will.

Nobody could really define what that scene was, but, god, you’d know it if you saw it.

Closer to the point, their scene was not that classic idea of a secret agent, full of fast cars and lavish dinner parties and weirdly formal clothing.

And yet, here they were.

Skipper was staring into space as he zipped up Private’s dress as that was the safest option for the both of them, considering such things, like how he’d gotten to this point in his life, and still debating about whether or not confiding your secrets in your closest nemesis was a bad idea if he was going to do the same.

And while Private tied his tie, Private considered how he was practically born into a life of espionage and was somehow still bad at it, whether or not he’d be more or less conspicuous in a dress, and how hard it was to tie a Windsor’s knot.

A well of insecurity and anxiety seemed to radiate off of them, but in that cool way where they’re just kind of like that, as Skipper patted Private on the shoulder and gave him a thumbs up after zipping up his dress and Private beamed up at him after tying his tie.

The height of casual anxiety, indeed they were.

What made it worse, or better, based on what their plan was, was that none of them looked like they were dressed for the same event.

Skipper wore a basic black tux, Kowalski wore a white tux, generally acceptable, but boring and blasé if not for how they pulled it off. Could belong at some wedding if Skipper could look any more bored.

Private was wearing a short pink dress he’d gotten from Julien and Rico looked more like the slacker stoner teen at prom than anything else.

Luckily, given that their plan was to pretty much separate as soon as they got to the party, it would be a piece of cake.

Two weeks ago, HQ had sent a notice about the fact that they needed their best and brightest field agents to comb the grounds of this party…But they were all busy, and so this note was passed down to them.

They had no idea who was hosting the shindig, or what they may be looking for, but man. Wouldn’t it be nice to know.

It wasn’t their thing, really, but, doing a job that nobody else was super into doing, wasn’t that kind of their thing? And besides. Even if they’re not considered elites among HQ, for whatever reason, a first class mission like this had some first class perks, like the car the agency left for them, which Rico called dibs on driving to and back, despite not knowing where they were going. Luckily, Kowalski was able to snatch the keys from him before they learned the full capacity of Rico’s road rage in something that wasn’t a $2000 coupe.

As Rico claimed shotgun, Private and Skipper sat together in the back seat, Skipper’s eyes facing straight ahead, but Private’s out the window, into an almost invisible horizon at this time of night.

“Okay, so here’s the plan.” Skipper began, pulling a map out of the top pocket of his suit coat. “Kowalski was able to acquire a map of the grounds…Grounds…Grounds is such a rich person word. It’s dumb. I hate it.”

“Skipper, the plan.” Kowalski reminded.

“Right, right. We have a map of the house. We enter in 5 minute intervals between each other, so we can’t be traced back to each other as easily. Kowalski, you’re going to the library and observatory.”

“Yes! Skipper, you have given me a gift.”

“Rico, you’ll be stationed near the kitchen and bathrooms.”

Rico shrugged, as if Skipper didn’t already know he was going to rob those chefs blind of their tiny appetizers and even smaller entrees.

“Private, you handle the coat room, sitting room, and closets.”

“Right.”

“And I’ll handle the bedrooms.” Skipper said. “So we’re all in agreement?”

Private raised his hand, with an apparent query in mind.

“Yes, Private?”

“Who in the world has a coat room?”

“Who has an observatory in their home?” Kowalski shrugged.

“Rich people.” Skipper grumbled. “If we’re all in agreement, when all of this is said and done, you want to come back to throw bricks at their windows?”

“T-Time and place, man. T-time and place.”

And so, they executed their plan, just as Skipper said they would. First Rico, then Private, then Kowalski, and then Skipper himself.

Kowalski was anxious about the idea of having the same car drive up, drop someone off, and drive away for 5 minutes four times over, but the fact of the matter was that nobody was really paying attention, because there was no reason to. They were not as obtrusive as they normally were. They had no reason to garner suspicion. They blended in.

They were professionals.

For once in their lives.

And as Skipper parked the car in a nearby restaurant’s parking space, he couldn’t help but think about what the evening would have in store for them. Enter mansion, search for hostages or secret passwords or weapons or whatever sort of villainy may be oozing behind those gold framed windows, exit mansion, pursued by bear. The dinner party scene was dreadfully tired, and he knew every trope in the book the sinister party planner could throw at him. That wasn’t their fault, of course. He’d just been around the block far too many times.

Nothing this night could throw at him could faze him, surely.

…Probably.

When Private had heard that he was finally going to have that empirical secret agent experience that his dear Uncle Nigel told him of when he was quite young, he was rather enthused by the idea. Sure, he didn’t know how many eyes he’d catch by simply walking into the room, or how many hands he’d grab in suspicious positions in proximity to his personhood, but, hey, he may have been Private, but he was Private, First Class.  

All he had to do was walk among the tiny rooms of the house, and if he didn’t find anything, he didn’t find anything.

And yet, the pressure was on.

This was his first mission with the supposedly charming spy life his Uncle had romanticized, and yet, there was something about it that made his skin crawl. Maybe it was because of the noise, it was too loud everywhere all the time. Maybe it was how suspicious it would look to find him poking around where he didn’t belong. Maybe it was the fact that, although these were the missions he was pitched, these weren’t the missions he signed up for. Who was to say at this point what was the true source of his anxieties? He didn’t know, that’s for sure, and that meant nobody else really needed to know either.

As Private wandered into another bedroom, he resigned himself to a search of the closet. He doesn’t know exactly why Skipper gave him the smallest nooks and crannies to search, but maybe it was for those exact reasons. The faster he got done, the faster he could leave. Maybe pick up a pizza and hang out with Marlene for a few hours, why not? She should still be up.

The closet looked to be empty, outside of a few golden wire hangers and the weird amounts of dust and hair on the ground. This must’ve been a guest bedroom, not that he could tell, based on the fact that every other bedroom, and there were others, looked the exact same.

Private slammed the main door to try to permeate the noise from downstairs, but it permeated through, regardless. The sounds were growing to be grating, and Private could have sworn he was moments away from a legitimate breakdown, and the very idea of such a thing frightened him, which only served to fuel his anxieties even more.

So, he did the only thing he could think of. He went into the small, dark closet and closed the door, sinking to the floor. Thankfully, it muffled the sound, but it also meant he’d be able to finish up his assignment without disappointing the team. The last thing he wanted to be was the weakest link, but he was, basically by default. Not doing what was asked of him would only make this disparity in skill and rank even more apparent, and everybody would know. Everybody already knew, but this would just make everything so much WORSE. He didn’t know how, but he didn’t need to. It was apparent. It was inherent.

He felt himself begin to cry, but, this whole episode of emotional lapses felt more of an inconvenience than anything else. Surely he could schedule this for later, right? We could do this later, right?

It seemed it would be sooner than he thought as he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, light peering in. Not from the crack underneath the door. That light was warm and bright. This light felt dangerous and shined a dangerous seeming green. It looked as if it was…Emanating from the left corner of the wall, as if it wasn’t actually a part of the wall, given how it slanted. It must’ve been a door. The light had to have come from somewhere.

Of course he wouldn’t have noticed it when the light was on! The glow was far too low to be apparent in bright lighting, and Private felt a surge of happiness at this, before he remembered he’d probably have to figure out what was behind the door in the first place.

He pulled his phone out of a hidden pocket in his dress, and began to record what was in front of him, as he got as low to the ground as he could and pushed slowly on the door, with great hesitation, as the flash of green grew brighter, and as his eyes adjusted, revealed a long hallway, full of blueprints and Tesla coils and beakers and the like that glowed and bubbled and fizzed violently. The green never went away, and it never felt any less malicious.

Private - unarmed, unmanned, unprepared, and every other un-word he could think of at the moment- felt rather unsafe and uneasy at the idea of actually wandering through this rather sinister looking laboratory, but surely a badly lit video of the entrance and blueprints wouldn’t be so bad, right? They could work with this, right? Surely they could.

They’ve worked with less.

Skipper doesn’t know about the others, but he’s certain that it would’ve been a better use of time for all of them if he told them to get sloshed on the company’s dime, because he’s finding nothing.

Oh, sure, he’s found out that there’s a lot of confidential things going on at these sort of dinner parties, but it’s more of the infidelity ilk than it is doomsday weapons and ray guns. At least he understands how those work, and what he’s supposed to do when he walks in on them.

At this point opening a closed door is just asking for trouble, but, he was the one who planned this, and he has to be thorough. At least this was the last room on his list, then he could hit up one of the local sports bars and try to bleach from his memory the things he’s had to see tonight. None of which has been a doomsday device, much to his disappointment.

However, behind this door, he only sees a fancy musty bed, a window, and a slightly ajar closet door. He closes the door behind him, and jumps when it moves, startled.

The person inside the closet jumps too.

“You scared me!” Private accused, holding his phone in two hands, still clearly shaken. Skipper sighed in relief.

“Nice to see you too, Private.” Skipper said. “Find anything?”

“Yes!” Private’s eyes shined and Skipper could practically feel himself having a heart attack. “There’s something in the closet, there, like…An actual room, with plans and beakers and chemicals and those swirly things Kowalski likes, I have it all on video!” He gestured to his phone.

Skipper pumped a fist. “Nice! At least we’ll have something to show HQ.” Private gave Skipper the phone, for better safe-keeping than a hidden pocket would provide.

“You weren’t able to find anything?”

“Ehhh….” Skipper trailed off. “Nothing important, just rich people getting their rocks off.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. Yeah…” Skipper said, clearly uninterested in the conversation as he  slowly approached the door he had entered through, pressing an ear up against it.

“What is it?” Private whispered, a little confused.

Skipper listened quietly and intently as he heard urgent footsteps coming their way a distant voice saying, “I told you to guard this one-“ That was all Skipper heard before a pang of panic hit him.

“Someone’s coming our way.”

This was a perfect time for the anxiety attack to hit Private.

“What!?”

“I don’t know if they’re coming exactly our way, but I don’t know for certain they’re NOT.” Skipper said, closing the closet door, and approaching Private the same way one would a wounded animal. Private felt his palms begin to sweat, his heart was racing, he thought he was going to cry. They looked suspicious as hell, being somewhere they weren’t supposed to be, together.

…

Or were they?

They needed to be people nobody would pay any attention to. They were only as suspicious as they let themselves be. They just had to blend in.

“Skipper! I need you to kiss me right now!“

“What?” Skipper said, more confused than he had ever felt in his life, his cheeks growing hot in the millisecond he was given to process before Private kicked the back of his knee with the heel of his foot, snaked his arms around his neck, and pulled Skipper into a kiss.

Skipper panicked. He understood doomsday devices. He could not understand this for the life of him, but he’s sure he could learn, given how quickly he closed his eyes, leaned into the kiss, and let his hands wander to Private’s ass, which caused him to jump during the kiss. This somewhat knocked them off balance, but in the best way possible, as Skipper twisted in a weird way, ending up with Private on top, straddling him, causing their kiss to break.

Skipper felt like dying right now, but, as those footsteps echoed in his mind, and louder within his ears, he knew he’d be a dead man if he gave up the charade now, so he pulled Private in by the the straps of his dress and kissed him once more, earning himself a surprised squeak for it.

He felt Private’s nimble fingers pull at the buttons of his suit jacket, unbuttoning each one by one, and although he supported the effort, given that he wrapped his arms around him, he was a little anxious about the thought of how far he’d be willing to go to throw off suspicion. What if this was what made Private figure it out? After all this time too?

And given how his mouth felt on his, did he really care?

Of course, such a splendorous moment had to end, as the doors swung open and both men did literally everything they could in their power not to literally jump at the sound.

“Oi! Privacy please!” Private yelled, the blush from his face being born of pure actual embarrassment, as his voice cracked.

The head servant - Skipper assumed he was in charge based on the fact that he was the one who had opened the doors - at the very least the gall to look a little flushed, but this did nothing for his resolve. “I’m sorry ma’am, but you two will have to take your…activities elsewhere. Will you please exit the room and vacate the premises?”

Private shuffled awkwardly off of Skipper as he re-buttoned his suit jacket and straightened a notably askew tie. He only missed a button here or there given how his hands shook, and he considered that in of itself an achievement as he took Private by the hand, and left the servants to their work, not before yelling, “I guess this means I, Dr. Francis Blowhole and my lovely partner Hans are just never allowed back, huh?”

“Was that really necessary?” Private asked, as the two of them walked together on the sidewalk, 5 blocks away from the mansion they put so much effort into invading.

“I couldn’t resist.” Skipper smiled, and he almost burst out laughing then and there.  

Private sighed, but his smile was soft. He wasn’t really angry, in fact he was almost euphoric. He had gotten to kiss Skipper! And Skipper kissed him back! More than once! He’d gotten to unbutton his suit jacket! He got to feel Skipper’s arms around his neck! Oh, it was such a dream…He’d kill for another evening like this one.

But then he remembered his line of work.

He remembered that Skipper and him did this under life and death pretenses. He didn’t even ask him before he really did it, he just went along with it. Probably because he didn’t have any better plans.

But despite everything telling him otherwise, he still had something that might have said otherwise.

“Are you alright?” Skipper asked. “You got really quiet all of a sudden.”

“Oh no! It’s nothing!” Private said, gesturing with his one free hand.

The one that Skipper wasn’t holding.

“That’s good. I wanted to make sure I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier.” Skipper said, scratching at the back of his head with his one free hand.

“Oh no, I’m fine. Did I make you uncomfortable? I was the one who, uh, started the whole-“

“No, it was a brilliant plan.” Skipper said, emphatically. “You made a split second decision based on applying previous information. Sure, it was information I just told you, but, I didn’t think of it…”

Private let out a sigh in relief. “We’re just lucky we were able to pass as a couple so well, I don’t know how I’d do with Rico or-“

“Maybe we should always pretend to be couples. For missions like these,” He added. “We’d be able to investigate together, I’m sure we both missed things all things considered, and the fake out make-out seems like it could be an effective way of derailing suspicion.”

“Not to mention that we’d be able to have each other’s backs in any possible combat situations.” Private added helpfully. “I would’ve probably made it to the main laboratory if I knew I wasn’t going to get murdered the minute I entered the main wing.”

“Good point. At least that’s HQ problem now.”

“Still, it seems like the fake romance holds some water in some future co-op situations. Would Hans really attack us if it LOOKED like we were on a date?”

“He WOULD,” Skipper laughed, “and YOU know it.” Private began laughing too, and soon they were both laughing like mad men, in the streets, on their way to the closest sport’s bar to grab a pizza, surrounded by thousands of shining stars, both completely convinced that the other sees this as the perfect strategy, both completely oblivious.

(The LONGEST fanfic I’ve written ever at 3K, and it’s for the human versions of the cartoon penguins I watched when I was 10. Go figure, y’all, dreams really do come true.)

[kachinnate]

these are a few of my faaavorite fics ✨

not that anyone asked for my opinion BUT these are a couple of my… fav deh fics of all time!* they’re all linked to ao3 and i think i have all the authors tagged that i know of that has a tumblr so

*i made this list especially for fics that aren’t, like.. as well known as some of the Popular Fandom Fics, partially bc everyone’s already read them and knows how awesome they are and partially bc otherwise this list would be ten pages long hehe,,, also sorry if you’re seeing this twice, i had to repost bc the links were all broken ?? 

throwing under a readmore bc this is a chunky boy!!!!! keep in mind that these aren’t in any particular order:

in the in-between - chchchchcherrybomb, vinegar-and-glitter (x) [tree bros] – Connor’s turning 27. Evan’s sitting the bar exam. Over and over again. – itsa timeloop au!! i’m not sure if this is a common au or not, but i’ve never read anything else like this before, and ohhhh my god. each chapter is a switch-off from connor’s pov to evan’s pov, and i assume the authors each wrote for one character (?), but oh my god their writing works so well together?? they both have distinct styles and ways of writing but it flows together perfectly,, without spoiling anything, ev and connor’s dynamic in this universe is a lot different to anything else i’ve personally read before, partially because they’re quite a bit older here than in canon (which, while is obviously portrayed, they still are easily recognizable as the characters they are in the musical), and partially because it strays away from the common ‘they’re both misfits/not doing great, but connor is worse for wear and evan has to save him’, which i think is rlly nice.. (also, like, never have i ever considered that evan would want to be a lawyer, but after reading this fic not only am i sold on it but i’m convinced 100% that him being a lawyer could genuinely be fuckin canon) (also also, the evan characterization in this? hands down my favorite out of any fic i’ve ever read tbh) the world building is really incredible too - like, i don’t even want to consider this one a fuckin fic bro because it’s like highkey just this incredible novel?? it also has a completed sequel called it’s always been you (x) that i haven’t finished that takes place after the events of this fic, and so far?? also fucking incredible 15/10 i definitely recommend

lapse - cecropia / @wildflowermonet (x) [tree bros] – “For what it’s worth,” Connor says casually, “I don’t think you should die tonight.” – welcome to another installment of ‘kayla read this and immediately couldn’t think about anything else for a solid consecutive 12 hours’!! evan and connor have really wonderful characterizations in this one too - i’m pretty sure i’ve elaborated on it before but literally my favorite thing is when people actually write evan as more than an anxious kid, and omg this author did that perfectly asfjkdsg - you can see the subtle Growth as he gets more comfortable with connor and jared (and all the other deh characters too bc this fic has a lovely fOUND FAMILY FINISH AT THE END EEE) and it’s just. aaaah. *heart eyes emoji*. it’s set in their senior year, and they form an unsteady friendship and learn to lean on each other and figure out the whole ‘having friends’ thing, midway through evan realizes he’s a-pinin’, it’s just. Great. this fic is relatively new too i think so u def def def should go give it a read and give the author some love!!!!!!!!!!!

to have a friend - demistories / @transanabeth (x) [tree bros] – Pretend to be friends with Connor Murphy, who yells at people and skips class to smoke and pushes people and threw a printer in the second grade, for twenty dollars a week.

Evan closes his hand around the bill and then stuffs it into his pocket.

“I-I’ll do it.” – ok this is one of, if not, the first fic i’ve ever read coming into the fandom, so it of course has a rlly special place in my heart!! it’s a classic ‘fake dating au’, also with switching povs between chapters. connor offers evan 20$ a week to be his fake friend, almost follows through with the events of the musical but doesn’t, finds out about evan’s own attempt, and they just sorta… cope together. it’s a lot of second guessing bc neither of them knows if the other considers the other a friend or not, and ofc when the fake dating part comes in that gets amplified by 10 asdfghj. honestly i think it’s a cooler approach to the fake dating au troupe (the chapter titles are increments of 20$, which honestly is equally cruel as is creative) and is so!! heartwrenching!!! it’s been a while since i’ve read it but i’m pretty sure that i bawled at the twist so >’D

the only thing is that this fic isn’t finished and there isn’t an intention for it to be finished from what i know of(?) - the author included a brief synopsis of the ending to tie loose ends and give a sort of closure to the fic, but that absolutely doesn’t take away from how freaking incredibly written it is and doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give it a read anyway !! i kept up with it while it was a WIP and honestly every time i got the email notification that it updated i dropped everything to fuckin read that shit 😤😤 when i think of deh fics, this is honestly just one of the first that comes to mind for me just bc it was one of the first ones i’ve read, and it just… was so good that i still think about it months after i read the last chapter safkjasf

no comfort in the truth - @nothingunrealistic (x) [kleinsen] – Like everyone in the world, Evan has the last words his soulmate will ever say to him on his skin.

Evan hears a lot of last words during his senior year. – okay if this were an accurate list i’d literally have every drabble soph has ever written down on here but that is entirely beside the point

literally knowing beforehand that this is a kleinsen fic and then reading the summary, u kno this shit is going to be painful ,, honestly this style is one of my fave fic formats (especially when it comes to writing in the canon deh universe) because like ,, it’s simplistic but works really well as a story-telling method?? not everything has to be perfectly strung together and every day doesn’t have to be written out for it to still convey the same like.. impact as a super long fic would, and honestly writing it in like flashes or snippets makes the build up that much more anticipating? bc again when u write within the events of the musical it’s not like u don’t know what’s going to happen,, u can focus less on worldbuilding bc hey, it’s already done for u, and instead write more indepthly about the topic of the soulmate au!! but uhhh REGARDLESS soph is literally the kleinsen matriarch in my eyes, they always write evan and jared w/ Perfect characterization and dynamics and just Ah! this one is angsty, but it has a v nice and hopeful ending, and i *clutches heart* love,,,

nowhere else i’d rather be:  nosecoffee / @nose-coffee​​ (x) [tree bros] – A fake dating au where they’re next door neighbours, Evan bakes, and Connor’s already a little in love with Evan anyway – this one is a series - the first fic kinda Establishes stuff and the second one gets into the whole fake dating thing!! they live in apartments next to each other, evan bakes for connor, they go campin with connor’s family, it’s just….. rlly sweet and i love it

also, it contains this hilarious bit that i haven’t been able to forget about despite finding this fic months ago:

do me a favour - can your heart rate rise a little? - nosecoffee / @nose-coffee​ (x) [treebros]

an au where the hansen family owns an arcade….. honestly what more can i say?? it’s slowburn and treebros and i p much love everything that nosecoffee has written ever so this is no exception obviously

jared and connor vs. the mortifying ordeal of being known - caswell @techconsigliere , puglebug @puglebug (x) [kleinphy] – Jared is admitted to group therapy following the divorce of his mother from his asshole father. What he doesn’t anticipate is that Connor would be there, too. – THE KLEINPHY CONTENT WE ALL DESERVE BEING PROVIDED TO US BY CJ AND EZRA!!! it’s a one-shot with just enough slowburn to keep you 👀 , jared is working through some stuff and after some fumbling connor is w/ him to help him thru it, the end of this fic has my heart aching the entire way through every time i read it and it’s just… *chefs kiss* (i even drew some fanart for it if you’re ever so inclined)

forever going with the flow, but you’re friction - lizzy_stardust_18 @delightfullyanachronistic​ (x) [band trees] – Zoe knew that of all of the things that her mother had expected from the evening, Evan Hansen showing up at her door with his arms full of her drunken daughter was not one of them. – big bet i wasn’t getting through this list without including fiona’s fics, are u crazy??? BUT this one is set a year (?) after the events of canon, zoe’s at a party and evan finds her, and they talk about stuff n’ things - there’s also a sweet moment in there between zoe and cynthia (in which cynthia is Rightfully Skeptical of evan) which is v wholesome and Refreshing because honestly the murphy parents never get written in a good light and fiona does it ~ perfectly ~. lotsa metaphors. evan and zoe are big dorks. evan is a taylor swift stan. what isn’t there to love

i can’t call you a stranger, but i can’t call you up - lizzy_stardust_18 - @delightfullyanachronistic (x) [kleinsen] – Jared fiddled his thumbs. He wished more than anything that he could move to a different seat, but causing a scene at Heidi Hansen’s wedding reception wasn’t exactly high on his to-do list. Besides, he was an adult. He had a job. He ate ramen only three times a week. He could handle a simple social interaction like a real human being. He was lucky that no one else had found their seats at his table yet. It gave him time to gather his wits about him. He drummed his fingers on the table nervously. – jared and evan are forced to talk after the events of canon via sitting next to each other at heidi’s wedding. they argue a bunch bc jared is still rightfully hurt, they discuss TCP and jared’s treatment of evan over the past couple years, they fight it out and then we learn some jared backstory and then there are tears and it ends on a fluffy + hopeful note!! good shit !!!!

[migleefulmoments]

"for those of you are are drinking the Kool Aide, you all believe that he shares his entire private life, because we see him all the time and constantly out and about." I can't get over how black and white she sees everything. Darren has to share every part of his life or share nothing. It's just not how things work for any celeb or even people we know irl. I don't know every single detail of my own friends lives and I don't need to, people are entitled to share/not share as much as they want.

Isn’t it incredible? She really has a very literal interprotation of words- several times a week I am still shocked by one of her revelations. That entire ask was pretty interesting.   

Anonymous asked:

It perplexes me that stans try and say we read too much in to D's friendships with people like AC, HS, etc and that they're only his PR friends when they do the same thing with the SKs and others. Just because D says RR and the SKs are his besties on social media doesn't make it true in the same way us believing in a friendship based on social media doesn't make that true. Funny how they use the same tactics as we do to prove their side but we're chastised for it!

Nonnie, the stans are desperate right now. 

I love how she always claims were are shaking in our shoes because we know she’s right-it’s so childish. I think that was the argument strategy I used with my younger sister when I was in middle school. Abby projects her own anguish by claiming “they are desperate”. Except I'm have never said #Iamveryupset over something in Darren’s life, I don’t hate 2019, and I don’t come up with derogatory names to bully his friends and disparage his wedding and the show he created. 

One of them spent hours researching each person we posted about to tell us where said individual was on the day of the horror film  Hours, her post is laughable, because she needs to feel better about the fact that she too knows that the guest list was off. 

It’s hilarious that she believes I spent hours searching for where each person was on February 16. First of all, I mentioned that my fairy godmother sent me those links and second of all, they were from Instagram so not hard to find. 

Not to mention she completely discounted that D&M were ecaged for over one year, 

Then she lays on some classic Abby logic- they were engaged for a year so their “friends” (as defined by Abby) should have known to get the day off. Of course they should have because that is what she did for her friends’ wedding. I’m sure that those who wanted to be were there. But some times work gets in the way (Why are we taking about this 7 months later?).

and most people who wanted to be there would have been there, not one of the excuses she names to me was something that had to happen.

Wow...the people who paid to see the live performances and the costars and crew who worked those show would disagree. Alan, Lena, and Laura all had live shows that weekend soooooo not exactly the same as Abby getting a coworker to cover her at a conference while she was in a wedding last weekend. But more importantly, isn’t this an argument in my favor? I agree, everyone who wanted to be there would have been hence those people You believe are his real friends- that I'm arguing are coworkers- weren’t there (X) (X) (Xk)

I have gotten countless anons saying D is “private” and we don’t know who he hangs out with.  Not true, if you believe in the marriage, he is not private”

 FACT: Each and every time I debunk a cc trope, I methodically lay out the proof and provide evidence showing why and how ccers are wrong. I include links, dates, photos and quotes- all which can be double checked for accuracy.  There is nothing fun about making up facts- it’s only fun if I can prove I’m right. Here you are “taking me down” with some sweet cc proof (X) Take note- they are all gifs. 

I get it, you believe Darren’s closest friends are his former coworkers because those are the people you’ve seen with him in so many photos on social media. Those are the people he said such nice things about while promoting the project but of course, that is what you do when you are drumming up publicly for a show. While I have no doubt he likes those people and they are friendly acquaintances- friends even- they aren’t his closest friends. If the only time he is with those people are when they are working or promoting a project-that is a pretty good hint that they are not his ride-or-die friends.  You have to look for consistency-are they hanging out while working on a project or have thy been friend for 16 years?  The people he has literally called “one of my best friends” are also the people he travels with (Vegas, Palm Springs, overseas, Ann Arbor, NY), they attended each other’s weddings and performed at each other’s ceremonies. They are the people he takes to shows in and around LA. see various music and theater shows in and around LA, Do they mention Mia on social media? All of Darren’s close friends have a friendship with MIa. 

If you really want to have a clue about what is going on in Darren’s private life, you have to look a little deeper. You have to listen to what he says in his interviews-even if there isn’t a gif-worthy moment to manipulate. You ignore the audio and print interviews- even those where he divulged a lot -because they can’t be altered- there is no video to crop, slow-down, and make into an emotional gif. 

Another telltale sign -does he talk about the friends in relation to his future? He calls writing a show with TheStarKid “the most fun thing to do”. Taking in all of the evidence, it is clear to me that the people at his wedding were the people he considers his closest friends.   He hired Nick Lang and John and Jennifer for Royalties because he likes them.  

Fact, they can’t have their cake and eat it too. If you accept that m/iarren is real, they you must accept that D has lied repeatedly about privacy being precious.  I feel like i went to JLB’s wedding. I felt like i went to MS & BH’s wedding.  And like I was on the great family honeymoon in the Philippines. And both European trips.    I see that he has been with the creepster and his “not gf” repeatedly over the past few months.  And I lived the sham mockery we have so much footage.

(starts beating my head against the wall) “He’s private so we don’t know who he hangs out with” except we can see with our own two eyes who he is with. Do you imagine that he stays home so he can hang with Edgar, Jane, Alan and Elvis privately? Oh wait, I know they  all have invisibility cloaks. For the 9000th time, “being private” means he doesn’t share his intimate life secrets. All celebs have to give up some level of privacy. Darren keeps mentioning it to explain why he doesn’t post on social media more- it’s something he thinks? worries? about a lot. He isn’t telling us he’s private because he thinks it’s our responsibly to worry about it. 

He is actually private-compare him to Kylie Jenner or Gigi Gorgeous who share everything. He does however leave his house and we can sometimes see who he’s with. The only person in your list of “friends” that we know he spent appreciate time with when they weren’t working together is Ricky Martin. He has spent personal- non-working time- with StarKids, Ricky, Ben, and Ashley . 

(still beating head against the wall) You didn’t “almost go to” any of thoseweddings. You saw a few short videos and some photos because you stalked all of the people who were invited to those weddings. Darren had NO control over any wedding outside of his own and he clearly wasn’t worried about his privacy at his friend’s weddings and that isn’t something for you to worry about. Darren is an adult and he is making choices in his life.  You let him handle his own life- you will be way less anxious.  

 If they insist the people we see are real friendships like SK, they can’t then go the opposite way and say he is hiding his very private friendship with JC, AL, BF, and PA.  It doesn’t work that way.  If you accept what they repeatedly show us, weekly, often daily, then you accept D is an attention whore. Plain and simple.

(hitting my head against the wall EVEN HARDER) I can absolutely accept that Darren feels like privacy is precious AND also feels very comfortable that what he shares about his life AND is happy about his life choses.  I do not believe that he is hiding his relationship with Jennifer, Ben kor Pamela, and whomever else your initials represent (my brain hurts from all the hitting). Darren’s personal life is private and there is no doubt he has relationships with people we don’t see- they might also be Mia’s friends. Or he knew he was hiring Jennifer for the show and invited her. There are lots of solutions to the equation-it isn’t my job or yours to solve it. Your need for everything to be “all” or “nothing” is what is tripping you up here. It absolute can go both ways.  He sees Ricky, Ashley, StarKids and Ben more often because they are friends who and out, they have a lot in common and enjoy seeing time together because they are at the same stage of life. Pamela and Jennifer can be special to Darren even if they aren’t people he spends a lot of time in public with. People can be very special even if we see them very rarely. Relationships aren’t predicated on spending time together. But the fact is WE DO SEE his friendship with StarKids, Ricky, Ashley and Ben and we know they are good friends because he’s told us so. We have verbal confirmation and we have seen physical evidence.  With Jennifer, Ben and Pamela, we have not seen evidence of a friendship besides the wedding but they were at the wedding and it isn’t our responsibly to figure out who each person is friends with  and how special that friend is. The message is that that person meant enough that they invited them to the wedding.  As for you list of “friends” Alan, Elvis, Jane, Ricky, Edgar etc, we saw a ton of interaction while they were promoting their projects but then it stopped. They also weren’t at the wedding which leads me to believe that they are friends but they aren’t al that close that they would fly to NOLA for a wedding.   

It is Darren’s responsibility to decided how much he wants to share and to know whether he is sharing too much with his fans. It Is NOT my responsibility -as a fan- to make sure he is comfortable or to determine what he means by   “private”.

I don’t agree with you that “If Miarren is real then we must accept that Darren is lying repeatedly about the privacy thing”. What I will agree with is that you constantly misconstrue what he means the says he is private. I also believe that as a general rule, those of us who grew up before social media have a much more restricted definition of “private” than those who were younger when it became popular. So what you think is “private”, younger people  willingly share. 

What I don’t understand is that you claim over and over that everything out of Darren’s mouth is a lie. You claim he isn’t straight, he is with Chris or married to Chris, he is not married to Mia, his wedding was a sham, and that he doesn’t own or even like TSGs, that he doesn’t live with Mia in the home he show off as his home, and that he lies during interviews because he team forces him to interviews 

Sp the question is what lie are you willing to accept?  Because either D is lying about his sexuality or he is lying about his desire to keep his private life private and off of SM.  

 My question to you is “what lies are you willing to accept?”   

[angel-gidget]

OK, TATERTOTS!

PLEASE ALLOW ME TO EXPLAIN WHY A COUPLE OF MEASLY SPOILER PAGES HAVE ME FLYING SO HIGH.

First off, issue #1 has made it clear that Dark Opal is the villain du jour. This means you guys are in for a treat. This man is an uncomplicated pleasure to hate. Perfect example, this reference: the wedding of Topaz & Sapphire.

The following commentary shall spoil the heck out of an 80’s classic, good old Amethyst Miniseries Issue #7.

You stand warned. (but oh my! YOu gossip! YOu totally want to know what happened at the wedding, DON’T you? @timkarinn)

Why is a villain like Dark Opal such a delight? Well, in a world saturated Foe Yay and Grey-Area Morality perpetuated by the likes of Miller and Moore, he’s a kind of villain we haven’t enjoyed in a while.

Amethyst creators Gary Cohn and Dan MIshkin once noted that Dark Opal was designed to be a most classically straight-up villain. Not misunderstood. Not misguided. Not insane. Not sympathetic. Just a dude who wanted absolute power and did not care a whit that it would corrupt absolutely. This is the sort of villain that allows our young, intrepid heroes to shine untarnished.

Exhibit A: Dark Opal murdering poor old Lord Topaz on the day his son is to be married.

We don’t see exactly HOW Opal clones/pod-persons/etc the deceased lord to make a perfect replica lucky run around in his place, but we do see poor Price Topaz mourning his freedom as the noose of arranged marriage tightens around his neck.

OH, if only there was some charming, fearless, swash-buckling princess who could save our poor prince from such a terrible fate! OH WAIT…

SUCH VALOR! SUCH HOPE! Quite possibly the budding of a beautiful romance…

… if his savior didn’t possess all the smooth moves of an anxious spring chicken.

But hey, it doesn’t matter! What matters is that there are UNINVITED GUESTS AT THIS HERE WEDDING SHINDIG. The first sign of this holy apocalypse is the arrival of Lord Garnet.

Lord Garnet deserves his own post, tbh. He’s like… if Old Spice Man and Santa Clause had a really ripped clone baby together and you gave him gem powers. He’s one of Amethyst’s trusted mentors and advisors and he’s gr8.

THUS ENTERS OUT FINE PRINCESS IN HER SWAGGED OUT WEIRDO SPIDER DRESS. YES.

Okay, my dudes, I know it’s a tangent, BUT A LOT OF THINGS ARE GOING DOWN AT THIS BIT O NUPTUALS. SUCH THINGS. MANY HAPPENINGS.Also, almost-happenings.

The only Topaz who’s got 0 regrets about this wedding is the princess. She’s just shoving down e’rrybody on her way to the throne today.

Meanwhile, Dark Opal’s adopted son, Prince Carnelian, is running his drunk dumbass mouth which nearly leads to a duel with Lord Moonstone.

Some folks, namely Lady Turquoise, have cottoned onto the fact that Princess Amethyst is in attendance, and have proceeded to loudly declare their love and loyalty. With Dark Opal’s lackeys RIGHT THERE. IN THE ROOM. Props for bravery, amiga.

You know people are having a good time when there is only (1) attempted assassination of Dark Opal’s person that evening. (but mission abort, sadly, bc Lord Garnet knows Lady Emerald ain’t ready to really take the heat for it.)

On with the wedding!

Gee… when you put it like THAT, how’s a guy supposed to say no?

Like that, I guess.

So anyway, it’s getting obvious that SOMEHOW, Lord Topaz went from loving indulgent father to #1 Abusive Patriarch overnight, and Amethyst smells something fishy…

Way to use your filters, gem-people.

So basically, Amy throws a water balloon to reveal that Prince Topaz’s dead dad has been replaced with a pod-person tentacle monster. 

And of course, Plausible Deniably is Dark Opal’s idea of a really funny joke.

So, they fight the tentacle monster.

And even though Amy ASSURES him that NO IT’S NOT REALLY YOUR DAD, TOPAZ, the prince still angsts bc y’know that’s his thing. He angsts.

But he fights too. Credit where credit is due.

Together they slay that sucker, and Amethyst finally lets the bass drop, announces the pink elephant in the room. Or rather, the purple princess.

She makes her intentions to dethrone Opal’s tush explicitly clear, which leads to fights all around. Realizing that the angry oppressed outnumber his loyal lackies, Opal makes a run for it in the confusion.

Yes, Lord Garnet saved the angsting blonde eye-candy. You’re welcome.

Meanwhile, Amy ends off by riding her winged unicorn INDOORS like the Drama Queen she is.

IS THAT NOT A MAGNIFICENT STEED? OF COURSE IT IS! LORD GARNET DON’T GIVE GOOD GIRLS NO COAL FOR CHRISTMAS.

SO you know what’s an incredible sign of admiration and trust? Lending your super-awesome Lord Garnet-given pegacorn to your new bat-friend, so you can have a DOUBLE DRAMATIC ENTRANCE.

Meaning, however greatly my baby has been rebooted, she’s still got some 80’s Amy Winston at her core. <3

[killerqueenjoy]

99 Question Tag

okay okay I know i got tagged to do this like a month ago on my main blog by @santonicababy iM SORRY LIN ILY BUT THIS WAS SO DAMN LONG

1) DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR CLOSET DOORS OPEN OR CLOSED

I sleep in the room where everybodies closets are and they all gotta be closed goddamn do you know how spooky it is to even have one open during the night

2) DO YOU TAKE THE SHAMPOOS AND CONDITIONER BOTTLES FROM HOTELS

my parents do, but alas I don't use them in case they have silicones or sulphates in them because I got a whole lotta curls to protect

3)DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR SHEETS TUCKED IN OR OUT?

if this refers to the sheet protecting the mattress, then my answer is in because how the fuck would you be able to sleep with that moving around???

4) HAVE YOU STOLEN A STREET SIGN BEFORE

NO SORRY IM BORING

5)DO YOU LIKE TO USE POST IT NOTES

heck yeah, but for random shit

6) DO YOU EVER CUT OUT COUPONS BUT THEN NEVER USE THEM

nee my parents are fancy fuckers who use the coupons on their phone (our local supermarket has a damn app skskksksk)

7) WOULD YOU RATHER BE ATTACKED BY A BIG BEAR OR A SWARM OF BEES

a bear because its one giant son of a bitch and not millions of tiny motherfuckers and also I've never been stung by a bee and intend to keep it that way because majority of my family seem to be allergic

8) DO YOU HAVE FRECKLES

nope! I have a couple beauty spots on my hands and face but thats kinda it

9) DO YOU ALWAYS SMILE FOR PICTURES

not really but if I've been told to smile then its 200% dead inside

10) WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE

i find many things annoying

11)DO YOU EVER COUNT YOUR STEPS WHEN YOU WALK

only when i go up and down stairs, but i also try to make sure i step with each foot equally (if that makes sense) and i step on only certain colour tiles when im bored

12) HAVE YOU EVER PEED IN THE WOODS

the real question is have i ever been in the woods? both answers are no

13) HAVE YOU EVER POOPED IN THE WOODS

refer to question 12

14)ummmm idk what this question is meant to be curse you Lin

15)DO YOU CHEW YOUR PENS AND PENCILS

nope, the idea weirds me out

16) HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU SLEPT WITH THIS WEEK

none, this week and in general

17) WHAT SIZE IS YOUR BED

one person and a long yet smol doggo size

18) WHAT IS YOUR SONG OF THE WEEK

Eddie from the Rocky Horror Picture Show has been stuck in my head for the whole week so yeah i guess that

19)IS IT OKAY FOR GUYS TO WEAR PINK

HeLL YEAH DUDE HAVE YOU SEEN RAMI MALEK IN PINK

SKSKSKSKS END MY LIFE

but yeah, anyone can wear anything they want to wear (although a suit made out of meat might not be wise)

20) DO YOU STILL WATCH CARTOONS

dudeeeee scooby doo and tom and jerry are my jam I watch them on the regular (among other things)

21)WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVOURITE MOVIE

uhhm idkkkkk I tend to repress bad movies sksksk

22)WHERE WOULD YOU BURY HIDDEN TREASURE IF YOU HAD SOME

idk shove it in the closet ig at least it will be hidden behind my sexuality

23)WHAT DO YOU DRINK WITH DINNER

I usually only drink before or after but ig water??? cooldrink if I'm in a restaurant

24)WHAT DO YOU DIP A CHICKEN NUGGET IN

depends on the nug

25)WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE FOOD

How dare you assume i only have one favourite

tbh it depends cos i love pizza and pasta and stuff but then i cannot live with my granny's curries ksksmks

26) WHAT MOVIES COULD YOU WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND STILL LOVE

borhap, sing street, rhps, the natm movies, the harry potter movies, any mcu movies

27)LAST PERSON YOU KISSED/KISSED YOU

ahhahahahahahha bold of you to assume anyone wants to do that

28) WERE YOU EVER A BOY/GIRL SCOUT

nope but I was a catrobat which is basically my preschools acrobatics team that was actually really terrible

29)WOULD YOU EVER STRIP OR POSE NUDE IN A MAGAZINE

nahh m8

30) WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A LETTER TO SOMEONE ON PAPER

this week for a transactional task at school (It was in Afrikaans and I got a C skskskks)

31)CAN YOU CHANGE THE OIL IN A CAR

omg no

32)EVER GOTTEN A SPEEDING TICKET

not old enough to drive!

33)EVER RAN OUT OF GAS

my parents never have for as long as i can remember

34)WHATS YOUR FAVOURITE KINDA SANDWHICH

cheese because I am actually John Deacon

35)BEST THING TO EAT FOR BREAKFAST

MUFFINS!!!!

36)WHAT IS YOUR USUAL BEDTIME

school nights its 11pm otherwise i dont have one lol

37)ARE YOU LAZY

YES BUT MY LAZINESS MAKES ME ANXIOUS OOF

38)WHEN YOU WERE A KID WHAT DID YOU DRESS UP AS FOR HALLOWEEN

we dont celebrate that here but i rly want to it seems fun!

39)WHAT IS YOUR CHINESE ASTROLOGICAL SIGN

Ram, which is really cool because im an Aries, so I'm sheep squared

40)HOW MANY LANGUAGES CAN YOU SPEAK

English, Afrikaans (at a basic highschool level), I could speak very vERY basic isiZulu when I was younger but I'm not sure about now, I know a bit of French and Telugu, and I'm gonna start learning Hindi soon!!

41) DO YOU HAVE ANY MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTIONS

nee

42) WHICH ARE BETTER, LEGOS OR LINCOLN LOGS

i didn't play much with legos and i have no idea what the second one is rip

43)ARE YOU STUBBORN

to an extent

44)WHO IS BETTER, LENO OR LETTERMAN

I kept reading Leno as Lenin ffs

45)EVER WATCH SOAP OPERAS

I watch them occasionally with my granny, but I don't keep up with them very well (Kasamh Se is my shit tho)

46)ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS

no, im afraid of falling in general tho

47) DO YOU SING IN THE CAR

My dad and I bop frequently to Never Gonna Give You Up in the car, and also classic bollywood songs (we have even learnt the choreography for some)

48)DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER

i perform

49) DO YOU DANCE IN THE CAR

well theres not exactly much space

50)EVER USED A GUN

nope

51)LAST TIME YOU GOT A PORTRAIT TAKEN BY A PHOTOGRAPHER

not sure

52)DO YOU THINK MUSICALS ARE CHEESY

most are but thats why i like them

53) IS CHRISTMAS STRESSFUL

we don't celebrate because we're not Christian (we still eat a lot and exchange presents tho), but it can get stressful if we have to visit extended family, mostly because my extended family loves to insult everything about me so thats great!

54)EVER EAT A PIEROGI

not i good sir

55) FAVOURITE TYPE OF FRUIT PIE

never had one, it doesnt appeal to me

56) OCCUPATIONS YOU WANTED TO BE WHEN YOU WERE A KID

a vet

57)DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS

i am a ghost

58)EVER HAD A DEJA-VU FEELING

not that i remember

59)DO YOU TAKE A VITAMIN DAILY

yes, I take a multi vitamin, a vitamin D pill because I'm vitamin D deficient, and im not sure if this is a vitamin or not but i take evening primrose oil so that im not outwardly a bitch due to pms

60)DO YOU WEAR SLIPPERS

i wear slipper socks, because my doggo got jealous of my doggie slippers and murdered them in cold blood

61)DO YOU WEAR A BATH ROBE

i have one and rarely use it because i forget it exists

62)WHAT DO YOU WEAR TO BED

a random shirt and pants, though ive been known to kick pants off (ive been doing that since birth), occasionally i manage to get the matching pj set

63)WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CONCERT

ive unfortunately never been to a concert before

64)WALMART TARGET OR KMART

ive never seen any of these stores in my country

65)NIKE OR ADIDAS

i own neither

66) CHEETOS OR FRITOS

neither

67)PEANUTS OR SUNFLOWER SEEDS

Peanuts because thats my doggos name!

68) EVER HEARD OF THE GROUP TRES BIEN

no sorry

69)EVER TAKE DANCE LESSONS

i went to a bhangra class for about a year, and we performed for our parents at the end of that year (i was in one of the few groups that didnt have to dance in lehengas thank goodness)

70)IS THERE A PROFESSION YOU PICTURE

YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE DOING

probably something creative, but I don't mind as long as they're happy with what they're doing and its not harming others!

71)CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE

yep

72)EVER WON A SPELLING BEE

never entered one, having to spell out loud makes me anxious

73)HAVE YOU EVER CRIED BECAUSE YOU WERE SO HAPPY

i think so

74)OWN ANY RECORD ALBUMS

nope

75)OWN A RECORD PLAYER

i wish

76)DO YOU REGULARLY BURN INCENSE

my granny burns incense while I'm at school because my mom and i both get really sick when its just been lit and the smell is strong. Going to the temple is a damn nightmare because of it

77)EVER BEEN IN LOVE

no, too busy fangirling

78)WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE IN CONCERT

oof a long list

Queen, Twenty One Pilots, Waterparks, Frank Iero and the Future Violents (ffs fronk stop changin the name), Panic! at the Disco...to name a few

79)WHAT WAS THE LAST CONCERT YOU SAW

refer to question 63

80)HOT TEA OR COLD TEA

both

81)TEA OR COFFEE

coffee

82)SUGAR COOKIES OR SNICKERDOODLES

sugar cookies

83)CAN YOU SWIM WELL

i wouldn't drown, but im no professional either

84)CAN YOU HOLD YOUR BREATH WITHOUT HOLDING YOUR NOSE

im doing it right now

85)ARE YOU PATIENT

eh

86)DJ OR BAND AT A WEDDING

I've only ever been to Hindi,Tamil and Telugu weddings and lemme tell you 90% of the time bands flop at those weddings because they can't sing the classics without failing miserably, so DJs are generally better. However, in that case, if a band can perform those songs, then I'd prefer a band ig

87)EVER WON A CONTEST

yep, a couple of reading contests

88)HAVE YOU EVER HAD PLASTIC SURGERY

nope, not planning on it

89)WHICH ARE BETTER, BLACK OR GREEN OLIVES

dont like olives rip

90)CAN YOU KNIT OR CROCHET

i can knit!

in fact, my friends and i are so cool that we're in our schools knitting club (which besides myself, @grandfunnyemopainter and @imjustabruh , only has 2 other members)

91)BEST ROOM FOR A FIREPLACE

lounge or study/library

92)DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED

i guess, its not on my goal list tho

93)IF MARRIED, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN MARRIED

no

94)WHO WAS YOUR HIGHSCHOOL CRUSH

currently in highschool, and in love with the borhap cast, sebastian stan, stephanie beatriz and band members (theres more but yeah)

95)DO YOU CRY AND THROW A FIT UNTIL YOU GET YOUR OWN WAY

nope, i have only two ways to deal, be a total pushover or a total bitch

96)DO YOU HAVE KIDS

nope

97)DO YOU WANT KIDS

kind of undecided, but i do want more pets

98)WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE COLOUR

Dark Blue

99)DO YOU MISS ANYONE RIGHT NOW

my dog, shes been ignoring me for about four hours now because I stayed at school for an extra hour (for knitting club!)

@softspaceboibrian @roger-taylor-owns-my-wigg @im-inlovewithmycar do it cowards

[anamericannightmareinpa]

Let’s Dance {Michael Clifford}

There were not many people that Michael trusted with his hair; Lou Teasdale and himself were the only two for a long time until he met the woman he was marrying in less than twenty-four hours. She had come into his life like a goddamn hurricane and turned it upside down from everything he knew in the best way possible. One of the first things she had addressed was the dryness of his hair and how brittle it got when he stripped the off-the-wall colors in order to change it. Now he was never without coconut oil in his bag on the road and their medicine cabinet at home was an amalgamation of different brands of the miracle substance.

Naturally, this meant that Michael was spending his last night of being an unmarried man with his hair shiny and slick from the oil and wrapped up in a towel (like she had taught him) to keep the heat in. He wanted to have his hair looking smart for his bride the next day.

“I should take a picture of you and put it on Instagram,” Calum chuckled from the loveseat across from him. “I’m sure the fans would just eat this up!”

Michael shrugged. “They’ve seen me looking a hell of a lot weirder, mate.”

Calum could only laugh at his friend as they both began scrolling through their respective Twitter feeds, the silence that followed comforting. It reminded Michael of when they were younger and hanging out after school in his bedroom, ignoring their homework in favor of searching dumb YouTube videos in each other’s presence.

“Is it weird knowing you’re getting married tomorrow?” Calum asked, breaking the silence some time later as his best friend’s fiancé popped up in his feed saying how she needed her beauty rest for the next day.

“Kinda,” Michael admitted as he set his phone to the side. “I mean, I don’t think it’s weird to know that I’m marrying her because she’s the only person I’ve ever thought about marrying for real. She’s it and I know it. It’s weird to think that I’m getting married in general though. Like, I’m still just some punk ass kid from Sydney who dropped out of school to be in a band. I always thought that adults were the ones who got married and I guess I don’t feel like an adult. I feel like we’re just two kids who know we’re it for each other. Does that make sense?”

The bassist nodded with a smile on his lips. He was happy that one of his oldest friends was about to move forward in his life with the woman who helped bring out his best. Michael deserved to be happy.

~*~*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~

‘The coconut oil last night was a good decision,’ Michael thought as he checked himself in the mirror one last time. His hair looked healthy and bright. He was clean-shaven and his suit looked really good if he did say so himself.

He was ready to be married.

He chuckled to himself as the realization hit him and he turned his back on the mirror to exit the small powder room attached to the office where his groomsmen were gathered. Michael surveyed them like a general, giving each of them a onceover just to be sure they were completely dressed and ready.

“Stop biting your lip,” Ashton chastised him. “If she walks down that aisle only to find you with a bloody lip she’ll kill you before you get the chance to say ‘I do.’”

Michael hadn’t even realized that he’d been biting his lip, but he composed himself quickly knowing that the drummer was right.

Luke rested a hand on his shoulder. “We gotta get out there. You ready, mate?”

Taking a deep breath, Michael nodded. He waited until all of his groomsmen had filed out the door before following behind them, breaking off to head to the front of the church while they headed back towards the bridal room.

When he walked out to take his place to the left of the officiant, his eyes scanned the crowd.  It was amazing to see all the people from his life and her life that wanted to be here to see them make it their life. He immediately caught sight of his parents across from hers in the front two rows. He smiled when he spotted John Feldmann and his family next to the Madden brothers and their families (Michael never thought Nicole Richie or Cameron Diaz would be at his wedding but some things in life are really weird). Alex and Lisa Gaskarth were behind them—Alex having a protective hand on the tiny bump under Lisa’s dress—with the other members of All Time Low close by.

“It’s wonderful to look out and see all those who love you, isn’t it?” the officiant asked, catching the groom’s attention. Michael could only nod because he thought if he opened his mouth all that would come out would be a tiny squeak. He was nervous that something would go wrong like that ridiculous miniseries she had made him watch when they first got together, but deep down he knew that he was just anxious because this was a really fucking important day and he would die of embarrassment if he messed it up somehow.

After what felt like an eternity to Michael, the woman across the way from him began to play a light processional on the organ and the doors at the back of the church opened.

Ashton and her youngest sister entered first, the height difference not as comical as it was the night before at the rehearsal since this time she had on her heels. Both of them smiled as cameras flashed on either side of them. Ashton being used to it, was calm as could be—happy actually, to be photographed doing something important instead of buying a cup of coffee. Her sister was beaming, happy to have a tiny slice of the attention on her oldest sister’s big day.

Next came Luke and her other sister, just a few years younger than her. Unlike Ashton and her youngest sister, those two were still as awkward as the night before. While Luke was used to the flashing of the cameras and having a lot of eyes on him, he wasn’t used to it with a lanky girl in heels clinging to his arm for dear life. Her poor sister looked like a deer caught in the headlights as she cautiously walked forward with Luke.

As best man, Calum entered next with the maid of honor, her best friend, on his arm.  They walked together with ease, used to all of the cameras flashing every time they went out. Dating a rockstar made her best friend adjust to the attention quickly and it showed as they glided arm-in-arm down the aisle with confidence. Each of them gave a reassuring smile to Michael as they reached the front and parted ways to go to their respective positions.

The organ music changed to the wedding march then, and everyone rose from their seats to get a good look at the bride as she made her grand entrance. Having chosen to walk alone, she moved in a perfect line down the center of the aisle as everyone around her scrambled to get a picture. She kept her gaze forward and a small smile on her perfectly painted lips.

Michael was in awe as he watched her grow closer, more tiny details catching his attention. He took in the sparkle of the beading on her dress as it caught the bright church lights and the way it matched the sparkle of her earrings perfectly. On her left wrist he spied the bracelet he got her for their first Christmas together, the delicate silver loops intertwined just north of the engagement ring she had been wearing proudly for almost a year.

It wasn’t until she was directly in front of him that he noticed the aged medallion around her neck, St. Christopher’s likeness surrounded by a prayer for protection. The family heirloom that her mother kept in a display case in the den of their home was an interesting sight for Michael. He had never seen it outside the case in all the time they were together.

He flicked his eyes from the medallion up to her eyes as he reached his hand out to help her up the stairs separating them from the officiant.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as they climbed the stairs together.

~*~*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~

As great as it was to actually marry her, Michael was excited for the reception. He knew parties between their two families were fun but now they were adding in the rest of the band and numerous other musicians who were going to take full advantage of the bar. There was no better recipe for a party in his opinion.

After getting their pictures taken for what felt like an eternity, they were able to make their way to the reception with the rest of the wedding party. They didn’t wait long before the groomsmen and bridesmaids entered the expansive ballroom, followed by the newlyweds who had decided to enter the reception to the “Imperial March” from Star Wars.

Toasts were made by her best friend, father, and each of Michael’s band members which segued into the quick serving of dinner to the guests. Everyone ate and chatted merrily as the DJ played classic rock ballads from REO Speedwagon and Led Zeppelin. Laughter flowed as freely as the drinks from the bar when the bride and groom cut the cake, the pair smiling just long enough for the photographer to snap a sweet picture before smashing slices into each other’s mouths.

Their first dance as husband and wife was slow, close, and intimate- they swayed together effortlessly. The soft chords of the song they danced to blurred Michael’s gaze into tunnel vision which led directly to her smiling face and wide, excited eyes. Even when their first dance ended and every other importance dance ensued, he couldn’t focus completely on anything except her and the pure joy on her face.

The joy escalated as the night wore on. Laughter loud and sweet as church bells poured from her mouth when he went under her dress for the garter and when she threw the bouquet, her dimples popped out from her flushed cheeks as every guest lined up to take their turn to dance with the bride (after taking a quick tequila shot, of course), and happy tears gleamed at the corners of her eyes as she swayed with Michael to the last song of the night, whispering to him how she couldn’t wait to have their first breakfast together as The Clifford’s.

“In honor of it, I won’t even eat scrambled eggs,” she giggled, knowing he hated eggs.

Michael beamed. “I love you, Mrs. Clifford.”