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theetherealbloom · 11 days ago

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The Things I Would Do, Just To Be Here With You

Summary: Amidst the whirlwind of movie premieres and busy schedules, you and Pedro Pascal, both thriving in your respective careers, find ways to celebrate each other despite the distance. While Pedro promotes Gladiator 2 in London, he longs for your presence at the after-party.

Or, you two would scream at the stars for keeping you apart... and the government too.

“Pedro Pascal x f!reader, Pedro is promoting Gladiator 2, and reader is in Wicked (Elphaba or Galinda of course!) for the screenplay of Wicked, and they are just really supportive of each other but also joke about their own movie being the best. Finding time to come to each other’s premiers. Posting behind the scenes or visiting each other.” — From @imaginemixedfandom

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Red Carpet, Cameras, Paparazzi, Long Distance, Timezone Difference, Social Media, Interviews, I’m not a Spanish speaker, I might be wrong with the terms, please don’t come after me T^T,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Ty @imaginemixedfandom for giving the idea! I didn’t really want to replace the reader with the cast of Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo. Those two are just too iconic. So instead I will make the reader a writer for the screenplay adaptation of Wicked tehe. You all should listen to brent iii by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler, it’s absolutely one of my favorite albums of this year. Lastly, remember this is all fictional and for fun! Enjoyyyy my loves!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: and the government too! By Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

gif by @andrew-garfielld

| Main Masterlist |

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING

“Hi.” Your voice was soft as you nestled deeper into the duvet, your body cocooned in its comforting folds.

“Hola, mi amor.” Pedro’s face lit up on your phone screen, the warm timbre of his voice washing over you like a balm. “I miss you.” “I miss you too… so much,” you replied with a little pout. The time difference between London and New York was merciless. Between his packed schedule promoting Gladiator 2 and prepping for Fantastic Four, and your whirlwind of work with the Wicked movie premiere, your conversations had been reduced to stolen moments like this. Still, even through a screen, Pedro had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world. “You look cozy,” he said with a lopsided grin, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Meanwhile, I’m freezing my ass off here on set. I think my nose might fall off.” You laughed softly, the sound tinged with longing. “I’d trade you, you know. I’ll take the cold if it means I get to see you.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He leaned closer to the camera, his face filling your screen. “If I weren’t contractually obligated to be here, I’d hop on the next flight and show up at your premiere tomorrow. Red carpet and all.” You smiled wistfully, your fingers brushing against the edge of your phone as if you could reach through it to touch him. “You’d outshine me. Imagine the headlines: ‘Pedro Pascal steals the show at Wicked premiere.’” “Please. Everyone’s going to be talking about you. ‘Brilliant screenwriter dazzles Hollywood!’” He paused, his tone softening. “You’re incredible, you know that?” Your throat tightened at his words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Stop, or I’ll actually cry, and my face will be all puffy for tomorrow.” He chuckled. “Okay, okay. But seriously, mi amor, I’m so proud of you. You’ve worked so hard for this.” “And so have you,” you countered. “The Gladiator 2 trailer broke the internet, and you still found time to send me flowers last week. You’re amazing, Pedro.” “Yeah, but flowers aren’t the same as being there with you.” His voice dipped, a hint of regret slipping through. “I hate being this far away.” You sighed, your heart aching in tandem with his. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the unspoken tension of your shared longing. Then, Pedro’s grin returned, bright and mischievous. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “who do you think has the better movie? Be honest.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Are you seriously asking me to compare Wicked to Gladiator 2? One’s a heartfelt, magical adaptation, and the other is a testosterone-filled epic. They’re different.”

“Uh-huh,” he teased, crossing his arms. “Sounds like you’re dodging the question. I knew you were scared to admit Gladiator 2 is better.”

You scoffed, sitting up straighter in bed. “Scared? Please. I just don’t want to hurt your feelings when Wicked inevitably becomes a global phenomenon.”

Pedro laughed, the sound rich and contagious. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, this would be grounds for war.”

“Lucky? You’re the lucky one,” you shot back, smirking. “I’ll prove it when I finally see you in person again. But until then…”

You brought the phone closer, pressing a soft kiss to the screen. Pedro mimicked your gesture, his lips brushing his camera lens.

“Goodnight, mi vida,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Pedro.” Your voice was tender, laced with all the love you couldn’t put into words.

As the call ended, you clutched the phone to your chest, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. Despite the distance, despite the chaos of your lives, you knew one thing for certain: Pedro Pascal would always be worth the wait.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — MORNING

Today was the day. You were walking the red carpet for the Wicked movie premiere. A sea of celebrities, producers, fellow writers, and editors would surround you. The sheer magnitude of it all left you feeling both giddy and utterly petrified.

You smoothed your hands over the silk robe you wore, your palms damp with nerves. While you loved the craft of storytelling, the spotlight had always felt daunting. You preferred to let your work speak for itself—a tendency that paired surprisingly well with dating Pedro Pascal, the literal human embodiment of charisma and charm.

“There, all done,” Laura, your makeup artist, said with a satisfied grin.

You blinked at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin glowed, your eyes were accentuated just enough to look striking without overwhelming, and your lips were painted a perfect shade of confidence.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you said, giving her a warm smile.

“Of course I did,” Laura replied with a wink. “Big night for my favorite screenwriter.”

Mia, your stylist, emerged from behind a rack of gowns, holding up the dress. “Speaking of big nights... Ready to put this beauty on?”

You nodded, though your smile wavered. “I just wish Pedro were here,” you admitted, your voice quieter now.

Laura and Mia exchanged sympathetic glances before Laura gently squeezed your shoulder. “You’re going to look incredible, and he’d lose his mind if he saw you. How about we take some pictures to send him? A little preview for the man himself.”

You hesitated, glancing at your phone on the vanity. “I don’t want to distract him. He’s busy with interviews and set work. London and New York aren’t exactly next door…”

“All is fair in love and war,” Laura teased, her giggle breaking the tension. “Come on, babe! If anything, it’ll be motivation for him to hop on the next flight.”

Mia chimed in, smirking. “Or just to remind him what he’s missing. Trust me, teasing Pedro is a public service.”

You laughed despite yourself, feeling the nerves lift slightly. “Fine, fine. But if he complains, I’m blaming you two.”

They ushered you into the dress—a masterpiece of emerald silk and intricate detailing that clung perfectly in all the right places. As Mia zipped you up, Laura stepped back, her hands pressed dramatically over her heart.

“Pedro’s going to lose his shit.”

“You look like a literal goddess,” Mia added, spinning you toward the mirror.

For a moment, you hardly recognized yourself. The reflection staring back radiated elegance and confidence, even if you didn’t entirely feel it yet.

“Okay, okay. Take the pictures,” you relented, biting your lip as you tried to contain your grin.

Laura grabbed your phone and started snapping. You struck a few playful poses, twirling and laughing as Mia adjusted the hem of your dress. It felt silly, but imagining Pedro’s reaction warmed your chest.

Once the photos were taken, you grabbed your phone and hovered over the message screen. You debated for a moment, then attached the best photo and typed a quick message.

You: Wish you were here. But since you’re not... Enjoy this. Don’t let it distract you too much, cariño.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, the familiar swoosh of the message sending making your heart race.

The reply came faster than you expected.

Pedro: Distract me? How am I supposed to do anything now? You look like an angel. No, better than an angel. Drop-dead stunning.

You couldn’t stop the grin from taking over your face.

Pedro: Red carpet better be ready. They’ve got no idea who they’re dealing with tonight.

The butterflies in your stomach multiplied tenfold. Before you could reply, another message appeared.

Pedro: I’m so proud of you. Go knock ’em dead, mi amor. I love you.

Your throat tightened, and you had to blink back the sudden tears threatening to ruin Laura’s hard work. You tapped out a quick reply.

You: I love you too. Now go back to being the coolest man alive.

“You okay over there?” Mia asked, watching you with a knowing smile.

“More than okay,” you said softly, tucking your phone away.

As you prepared to step into the whirlwind of the premiere, Pedro’s words echoed in your mind. Even from thousands of miles away, he made you feel invincible.

Tonight wasn’t just about the red carpet or the glitz and glamour. It was about celebrating what you loved—and knowing Pedro would always be your biggest cheerleader, no matter where in the world he was.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON — AFTERNOON

Pedro sighed deeply, his head resting against the back of his chair. The steady hum of activity on set felt like background noise, the voices and clatter muffled by the ache in his chest. His fingers drummed lightly against his thigh, the motion absent-minded, a physical echo of the restlessness he felt inside.

He missed you.

It wasn’t the casual longing of someone who hadn’t seen their partner in a while—it was the kind of yearning that settled into his bones, heavy and persistent. A few hundred miles of ocean separated you, but it may as well have been an entire galaxy.

He opened his phone and scrolled back to the picture you’d sent him that morning. The emerald dress, the way it hugged your form, the way your eyes sparkled even in a still image—it took his breath away. You looked like a dream. His dream.

“If I were there right now…” he murmured under his breath, running his thumb over the screen as if he could touch you.

If it were as simple as hopping on a flight, he’d already be on his way. He imagined the way you’d light up when you saw him, how you’d rush into his arms. He’d bury his face in your hair, inhale your scent, and hold you so tightly that he’d forget about the world outside.

But it wasn’t that simple. The timing was off, as it so often was with both your careers in full swing. He was tied to the production schedule of Fantastic Four, and you were in the spotlight for Wicked. The universe seemed determined to keep you apart, and for the first time in years, Pedro felt the cracks in his patience.

He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “Damn stars. Damn schedules. Damn… government,” he muttered bitterly. The laugh that followed was humorless, the frustration thick in his voice.

If he could, he’d scream at the stars for conspiring against you both. Curse the invisible forces that made life so complicated. He’d barter with time itself, twist it and stretch it, just to have you here with him for a few stolen moments.

He wondered what you were doing right now. Were you nervous about the red carpet? Did you feel as hollow without him as he felt without you? Pedro clenched his jaw, guilt gnawing at him. You deserved to have him there, to walk that carpet with you, to hold your hand and beam with pride as you took in the applause for your work.

“Pedro, they’re ready for you!”

The call from a production assistant jolted him from his thoughts. He blinked, the weight of reality crashing back down as he stood and stretched.

“Be right there,” he called back, tucking his phone into his pocket.

As he made his way back to the soundstage, he couldn’t shake the thought of tomorrow. The Gladiator 2 premiere loomed ahead, another milestone he should be celebrating with you by his side. Instead, you’d be halfway across the world.

But one day, he promised himself, one day, nothing will keep us apart.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING

The flashing lights were relentless, casting an almost blinding glow over the red carpet. The screams of fans and the constant click of cameras created a symphony of chaos, one you weren’t entirely comfortable navigating. You’d always preferred the quiet—curled up with a book, tucked away from the world’s prying eyes.

But tonight, you smiled and posed alongside your cast and the production crew. You owed it to them, to yourself, and to the story you’d helped bring to life.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Winnie Holzman, the original writer of Wicked, leaned in with a smile, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the crowd.

You nodded, though your voice was tinged with nervousness. “It’s incredible. Overwhelming, but in the best way.”

“You’ve done amazing work,” Dana Fox chimed in, her excitement infectious. “We wouldn’t be standing here without your screenplay tying it all together.”

Jon M. Chu, ever the cheerleader, clapped you lightly on the back. “Tonight’s your night too. Own it.”

You laughed softly, feeling a little more at ease with their encouragement. Together, the four of you posed for the cameras, sharing a few candid laughs before heading closer to the press area.

As you stepped into the spotlight for interviews, the questions started flying.

“How does it feel to see Wicked finally come to life on the big screen?”

“It feels surreal,” you answered, your smile genuine. “Everyone on this project has poured so much heart into it. To see it come together like this is... overwhelming in the best way.”

“You’re known for being quite private. How are you handling all the attention tonight?”

“It’s definitely out of my comfort zone,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’m surrounded by such a talented and supportive team, which makes it easier.”

Then, inevitably, came the question you’d been bracing for. “We couldn’t help but notice that Pedro Pascal isn’t here tonight. Do you miss him?”

The question tugged at something deep inside you. “I miss him so much,” you said softly, your expression softening. “He’s busy promoting Gladiator 2 and filming in London. I know he wishes he could be here, just like I wish I could be there for him. We’re both incredibly proud of each other, though.” You grinned, a playful sparkle in your eyes. “But, of course, Wicked is better. Don’t tell him I said that.”

The interviewer laughed, and you followed with a wink before stepping away.

AFTER THE PREMIERE

As the credits rolled and the crowd applauded, you walked alongside Jon, Winnie, and Dana toward the exit. The night air was cool and refreshing after the heat of the theater.

“You were glowing on that carpet,” Winnie teased, nudging you gently.

Jon smirked. “Bet it’s because of a certain someone who couldn’t make it.”

You flushed immediately, your cheeks warming. “Stop,” you mumbled, though your smile betrayed your embarrassment.

“Oh, come on,” Dana added with a laugh. “You were gushing about him earlier. Just admit it—you’re head over heels.”

You sighed dramatically, though your heart raced just thinking about Pedro. “Okay, fine. I miss him like crazy. I just—” You paused, glancing up at the stars. “I wish I could be there for him, you know? For his premiere. He’s always so supportive of me. It feels wrong not to do the same.”

Jon stopped walking, turning to face you with a thoughtful look. “So go.”

“What?”

“Go to him,” he said with a shrug. “Take the jet. I’ll make the call.”

You blinked at him, stunned. “You—you’d let me do that?”

“Of course,” Jon said, waving off your concern. “You’re part of the heart of this project. If being with him makes you happy, it’s worth it.”

“But I don’t have a ticket, and I need to pack, and—”

Dana held up a hand, already pulling out her phone. “Relax. I’ll call a car, and we’ll pack together. You just focus on getting there.”

Before you could protest further, Jon had already stepped aside, dialing someone on his phone. Dana grabbed your arm and started steering you toward the waiting car.

“You’re really doing this,” she said, grinning.

“I—I guess I am.” Your voice trembled with excitement and nerves. “What if I don’t make it in time? What if—”

Dana cut you off with a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. “You’ll make it. And even if you don’t, just being there will mean everything to him.”

AT THE AIRPORT

The private jet was waiting for you, its sleek frame illuminated by the glow of the runway lights. You quickly texted Pedro’s manager and assistant, letting them know you were on your way.

You: I’m coming to London. Please don’t tell him. I want it to be a surprise.

The response was almost immediate:

Franklin Latt: Got it. He’s going to lose his mind—in the best way.

As you settled into your seat and the jet began to taxi, your heart raced. Seven hours separated you from Pedro, but for the first time in days, the distance didn’t feel insurmountable.

You leaned your head back against the seat, clutching your phone tightly as you closed your eyes. You could already picture the look on his face when he saw you.

Just hold on, Pedro. I’m on my way.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING

The energy in Leicester Square was electric. Fans filled the barricades, the roar of excitement nearly drowning out the camera flashes as Pedro made his way down the red carpet. Dressed in a sharp black shirt, the top unbuttoned, slacks, his signature charm, and a warm smile lit up every interaction as he stopped to greet fans and pose for photos.

The press area was bustling, and soon Pedro found himself standing in front of a journalist holding a microphone.

“Pedro, congratulations on Gladiator 2! How does it feel to be here tonight celebrating this film?”

Pedro grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It feels incredible. This is one of those projects you dream about as an actor, and to see it all come together, to see everyone’s hard work pay off, it’s… it’s a real honor.”

The interviewer nodded. “You’ve had an amazing year, between this and your other projects. But we couldn’t help but notice that someone special in your life had a big night recently—the Wicked premiere in New York. Did you get a chance to see any photos?”

Pedro’s face lit up instantly, a laugh bubbling out of him. “Oh, I did. Believe me, I did. She sent me some pictures, and I’ve seen the ones floating around online too. I mean… she looked absolutely stunning. Like, knock-you-out, breathtakingly gorgeous. I might be a little biased, but still.”

The crowd nearby caught wind of his gushing, and a few cheers erupted. Pedro laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I’m so proud of her,” he continued, his voice softening. “She poured so much of herself into that screenplay, and to see her get the recognition she deserves? It’s the best feeling in the world.”

The interviewer smiled. “There’s definitely a lot of love and mutual admiration between you two. Word on the street is you’ve got a bit of a friendly competition going on—Gladiator 2 versus Wicked. Any truth to that?”

Pedro chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, it’s absolutely true. We’ve got a bet going. She’s convinced Wicked is going to sweep the box office, and I, of course, have complete faith in Gladiator 2. Let’s just say the stakes are high—winner gets breakfast in bed for a week.”

The interviewer laughed along with him. “That’s adorable. Who’s winning so far?”

Pedro smirked. “Let’s just say she’s got me a little worried. But I’ll never admit that to her.”

LATER, BACKSTAGE

Pedro leaned against the wall, sipping from a glass of water while chatting with Paul Mescal. Their conversation flowed easily, but Pedro’s gaze kept drifting toward the entrance, as if hoping for some sort of miracle.

“You’ve got that look again,” Paul teased, nudging him with his elbow.

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning ignorance.

“The ‘I’m desperately in love and missing my girl’ look,” Paul quipped with a grin.

Denzel Washington, who had just joined the conversation, chuckled. “He’s not wrong, man. You’ve been staring off into space like a lovesick teenager.”

Joe Quinn walked by, overhearing the exchange and throwing in his two cents. “It’s cute, though. Very romantic. Someone should write a movie about it.”

Pedro rolled his eyes, though a bashful smile crept onto his face. “Okay, okay, I miss her. Can you blame me? She’s halfway across the world, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Frank, Pedro’s manager, stepped in, giving him a supportive pat on the back. “You’ve got it bad, buddy. But hey, it’s not a bad problem to have.”

Frank couldn’t help but smile to himself, already knowing what Pedro didn’t—that you were on your way. He could only imagine Pedro’s reaction when he saw you walk through those doors.

“Alright,” Pedro said with a dramatic sigh, “can we please focus on the fact that we’re here for Gladiator 2 and not my love life?”

“Sure,” Paul said, smirking. “But if she shows up, we’re all watching you lose it.”

Pedro laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll take that bet.”

Little did he know, he was about to owe a lot of people a round of drinks.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING

The crowd in the after-party buzzed with excitement, a mix of A-list chatter and glasses clinking. Pedro stood near Lux, their conversation about the night’s success lighthearted, though his gaze kept drifting toward the entrance. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, only that the ache of missing you hadn’t dulled, even amidst all the celebration.

Lux, sharp-eyed as always, caught the slight shift in his expression and smirked. “You’ve got that look again,” she teased.

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning nonchalance as he sipped his drink.

“The one that screams, ‘I wish she were here.’” Lux nudged his arm playfully.

Before he could muster a witty retort, Lux’s eyes darted toward the entrance, widening in surprise. “Well, speak of the devil…”

Pedro turned, following her gaze, and the breath left his lungs.

There you were, stepping into the room, your black silk gown catching the dim lights perfectly. Your hair, slightly tousled from the rush, framed your face with an effortless beauty that made his heart stop. Heads turned as you walked in with Frank, but Pedro didn’t notice anyone else.

He froze, jaw slack, his mind racing to comprehend that you were actually here.

“Pedro,” Lux whispered, amused. “Close your mouth before you catch a fly.”

But Pedro couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All he could do was watch as you walked toward him, the soft smile on your lips turning into a grin as your eyes met his. He vaguely registered Joe, Paul, and Denzel laughing nearby, but he didn’t care. You were here.

When you finally stopped in front of him, your grin widened, and you quipped, “Sorry, I’m late. Traffic was terrible—there’s a movie premiere happening, and I—”

Before you could finish, Pedro moved.

He swept you up in his arms, lifting you off your feet as a chorus of cheers, whistles, and laughter erupted around you. You let out a surprised giggle, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he held you close, burying his face against your shoulder.

“Dios mío,” Pedro murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” you whispered back, your fingers threading through his curls.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes brimming with love. “I can’t believe this. You’re really here.”

You smiled, tears threatening to spill as you cupped his face. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun without me.”

Pedro didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance, kissing you with a fervor that made the entire room fade away. The kiss was deep, all-consuming, and when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless.

Your laughter broke the moment, and Pedro pressed his forehead to yours, his hands still firmly around your waist as if afraid you might disappear. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

“For what?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

“For being here. For being you. For… everything.” His voice was low, reverent. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll never stop thanking the universe for it.”

You kissed him again, a soft press of lips this time, and smiled against his mouth. “You don’t have to thank the universe. Just let me love you.”

Pedro let out a soft laugh, his arms tightening around you. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you teased, resting your head against his chest as the room slowly came back into focus.

From the sidelines, Joe nudged Paul, chuckling. “Think he’s gonna let her go anytime soon?”

Paul smirked. “Not a chance.”

Denzel clinked his glass against Joe’s. “Now that’s a man in love.”

And Pedro? He didn’t care about the laughter, the cameras, or even the early morning call time tomorrow. For now, you were in his arms, and nothing else mattered.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x ofc #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #wicked #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal masterlist #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut

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mahfreddie · 8 months ago

Note

I know you said you're autistic, but you do get now what what you said the other day on twitter makes you the bad and toxic part of fandom right? You're twitter mutuals with people who have been shitting on Nick and his projects for months now, you don't get to pull the "I only said one thing" card when what you insinuated is that he's bitching about RWRB to costars, which is then used to justify hate towards him and his female costar.

Also "I was just thinking out loud" is not a valid excuse either. Not every thought you have needs to be shared, especially when those thoughts are just putting people down over your own insecurity.

First of all, I’d like to know who these mutuals who are hating on Nick supposedly are because I don’t knowingly follow any Nick haters. If you’re talking about bourdainstalker, I don’t follow them, I just replied to their tweet at me.

I did in fact only say one thing, and I didn’t insinuate anything, I was wondering, and I made that very clear, and as far as what I said being used to justify hate on him, the people who hate him are going to continue to hate on him no matter what, regardless of anything I may ever say, and I don’t see why I should censor myself and my feelings on my little corner of the internet just because there are assholes out there.

And yes, not every thought needs to be shared, and believe you me I bite my tongue 98% of the time, but my account is my own, and what I do and do not say on it is down to me, and no one is forcing you to read it.

I’ve been on rwrbtwt since before the movie came out and this is the only time i’ve been involved with drama and that only happened because I responded to someone else, most of the time i’m just shouting into the void, and honestly i’m quite happy to keep it that way.

As for me being the toxic side of fandom… I made a comment once, an ill conceived comment yes (which trust me when I say I wish I never had) but once none the less, meanwhile the other side of twitter has accounts that bitch about rwrb and rwrb fans (and also on taylor) on the daily, and talking to them one time resulted in their followers coming over here to another website to tell me to kill myself, and I’M the toxic one?

I’ll just say this for clarity’s sake, I don’t hold any ill will towards Anne, I grew up watching her movies and will always be a fan, that part of the interview just bothered me, and that’s okay, you don’t have to like every little thing a celebrity says, and it certainly doesn’t mean you hate them or condone people sending them hate, and I truly don’t.

Okay?

#i know this got real long but im just #exasperated #and i wanted to make myself clear #ask mahfreddie

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lovelylunarwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Jaemin Soulmate!AU

Jaemin has a reputation as a “cool” kind of guy, which is why he wears bracelets to hide the words permanently etched on his left wrist

“Wait- if it’s not butter, then what is it?”

Jisung and Haechan are notorious for giving him shit for having a ‘weird’ soulmate, but Jaemin thinks it’s kind of funny, honestly

Like great question dude but,,, why are you asking me this

Jaemin’s apartment is around the corner from a little family-owned grocery store that he’s frequented since his high school days.

He’s very much a regular, to the point of the owner being like “Jaemin…. Please just work here. You already know where everything is”

To which Jaemin has to respectfully decline, because he wants to focus on his dancing and singing, and working too much would get in the way of practicing.

That, however, does not stop the old man from sending customers with questions to Jaemin whenever he comes in.

Because Jaemin is too polite to be like “uhh I don’t work here, good luck”, he always ends up helping them

But secretly, he doesn’t mind. He thinks that maybe one day, his soulmate will be the next one to ask him a question.

Even after repeated questions about “how much does this cost?”, “when do you guys open tomorrow?”, “when will the next shipment of bok choy be in?”, he still isn’t terribly bothered.

The other employees chastise the boss for sending customers to Jaemin, but the old man is always like “he knows this store better than you all do. That’s why he gets a discount higher than yours”

Employee discount: 15 percent off all merchandise

Na Jaemin discount: 20 percent off all merchandise

It’s an unspoken rule amongst employees that Na Jaemin gets a discount, but they are NEVER to mention it to him! He knows that business has been rough recently and wouldn’t accept the generosity, but the boss thinks Jaemin is too skinny and wants him to be able to afford to eat well.

Now lovely reader, this is where you come in. You recently got a job at this grocery store but you work in the back, so you have never seen the famous “Na Jaemin” that all your fellow employees chat about so frequently.

Coworker #1: “Ugh, he’s like SO dreamy”

Coworker #2: “I know right? He’ll have no trouble becoming an idol at this rate”

Meanwhile you’re like “lol what who? Also where is the printer for printing clearance labels”

You specifically applied for the back of house position because you did not want to talk to people.

It’s not that you’re antisocial by any means- honestly it’s the opposite. It’s just that you have the tendency to say whatever you’re thinking with absolutely no filter.

So in the past when more…. challenging… customers have talked down to you, you gave back the same energy without thinking.

Management was not happy,,, so you were like “mmmm maybe I should just keep to myself and everyone would be happier”

One day though, it seems that you’re shit out of luck.

Your work bestie calls you at 3 in the morning on your day off saying that her kid has a fever and she’s gotta stay home and take care of him.

You have no plans other than generally being a lazy lump at home, and she’s always had your back at work, so you’re like “girl don’t worry about it, I got your shift. I’ll make some chicken noodle soup for him too”

To which she’s like “bitch if I hadn’t found my soulmate already I would’ve snatched you up T-T”

You giggle and tell her to try and get some rest- both her and her kid.

And then sleep another blissful 4 hours before rolling in for the 8am shift.

When you get there, boss man is like “ayeee so you’re covering for her shift which is stocking shelves, are you gonna be okay doing that?”

You: “Ahaha yeah it’ll be fine~ just please don’t send customers to me oh my gosh”

Boss Man: “Don’t worry, I just saw Jaemin walk in. I’ll send them to him”

You: “... who is Jaemin”

Boss Man: “He’s my FAVORITE!! Remember that!”

You: “Oh, okay!! Yes sir!”

You’re like fifteen minutes into your shift and you’re already on edge because all you’ve done so far is dodge all the old ladies who are shopping this early.

No actual products have been put on the shelves yet, or at least not by your hands.

Settling down in the dairy section, you relax a bit and start putting cold products in the cold shelves fixed to the wall.

And of course- things are in the wrong place. Why would anyone put anything back where it belongs?

Picking up a product, you glance at the label out of sheer boredom more than anything.

“Wait- if it’s not butter, then what is it?”, you say to yourself.

Or so you think.

“Yeah, that is like the one question I don’t know how to answer”, you hear a masculine voice say from behind.

You spin around and look up into the man’s face.

And oh boy is that a nice looking face.

“Oh I’m sorry, I- WAIT”, you start, before you realize what he said.

Grabbing his left wrist, you push up the bracelets to reveal what you’d just said. Then you drop his hand out of sudden shyness, and because it’s not cool just to grab people.

“Do… do you mind if I look at your wrist as well?”, he asks quietly.

You roll up your sleeve and present him with your arm. He delicately wraps his fingers around your wrist and flips it over to read the words written”

He drops your wrist and sinks into a squat, flopping his arms over his head and looking at the ground.

“Oh my gosh why did I say something so lame…”

“Umm,,, to be fair,,, I did ask you about butter so by comparison yours isn’t that bad,,,,”, you try to comfort him, and he lifts his head up to meet your gaze.

“You mean that? It wasn’t like the lamest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Oh I’ve heard much lamer things, don’t worry!”, you say with a cheery smile that contrasts your words entirely.

He stands up again and clasps your hands in his. With a look of determination he looks straight into your soul and asks:

“What time do you get off work?”

You tell him, but let him know that you’ll be busy after work making chicken noodle soup for your coworker and her son.

He’s like “oh you can cook?” and you’re like “lol no but I’m gonna die trying”

He writes his phone number on your arm (next to your soulmate tattoo) and is like “text me when you’re done with work and I’ll swing by and walk you home and maybe I can help you cook”

And quickly clarifies “ONLY IF YOU’RE COMFORTABLE WITH ME IN YOUR HOME, I UNDERSTAND IF BECAUSE WE JUST MET YOU-”

You’re like “dude,,,, it’s fine, we are literally destined to be together. Also if you try anything I’ll just beat you up so it’s chill”

Looking at his watch, he sprints makes a beeline for the checkout counter, going on about he’s gonna be so later and Haechan’s never gonna let it go if he’s late twice in a row, and something else but by that point he’s so far away from the dairy aisle you can only hear muffled sounds where words should be.

The next several hours could not go by ANY SLOWER.

Starting off today, you figured the day would go by quickly because you’d be preoccupied figuring out how to do something new, but now all you can think about is pretty soulmate boy.

And how he never mentioned his name, but to be fair, it was a rather quick exchange.

What feels like centuries later, your shift is coming to a close so you grab the ingredients you the internet tells you you need for the soup and head to your favorite cashier.

Somehow the front of the store is both quiet and abnormally loud for this time of night.

“Jaemin’s been waiting there for fifteen minutes? Do you think he’s waiting for someone?”

“Maybe he needs to talk to the boss? Usually he’d just ask one of us to grab him but he’s just standing outside”

“Ugh it’s so cold, should we tell him to come inside?”

You glance over to the crowd of coworkers towards the entrance and break out into a smile.

“Just keep ringing me up, I’ll be right back!”, you tell the cashier and fast walk past the small crowd.

Peeping your head out the door, you greet him.

“Are you cold? Come inside, I’m almost done”

“Oh okay, should I wait by the door though?”

“No, come with me. I wanna show you off~”, you instruct and he raises an eyebrow, but plays along.

Holding open the door for him, he scuffles his way in and shyly offers his hand.

Gladly, and with a pounding heart, you lock your fingers between his.

“Your hands are freezing, dude”

“Shhh it’s fine. I was trying to be cool, okay”, he jokes with you as you walk back to the register

Ringing up your items, the cashier is looking at you and him with raised eyebrows, and you’re just like “shut up jessica I’ll explain tomorrow”

The two of you walk back to your apartment and spend the rest of the night cooking and talking about everything and nothing.

The more you learn about Jaemin, the more confident you are that the universe got this one right.

Even when most things feel unclear, you know this person is someone you can always rely on.

(also when you bring your sick work bestie the soup, Jaemin insists on tagging along and she’s like “omg Y/N that’s JAEMIN” and you’re like “I KNOW” and he’s like “hi here’s some soup, also why do you know my name”

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wordsintimeandspace · 3 years ago

Text

All That Haunts Us (1/14)

Jon and Tim have seen their fair share of strange things while working in Research at the Magnus Institute. They still didn’t quite expect to rescue Martin, who has been missing for a year, from a supernatural encounter during one of their investigations. Together, the three of them hunt for answers and try to find a way forward, but they all have things that haunt them.

Meanwhile, Elias sees the perfect opportunity to set his devious plan into motion...

Jon/Martin/Tim, rated T, ~2500 words for this chapter. Read on AO3!

Tim plumps down onto the corner of Jon’s desk without much warning. After months of being friends with Tim Jon supposes he should be used to it by now, but he still startles a little, eyes shooting up from the book he’s been engrossed in for who knows how long. Tim sits there with his arms crossed over his chest, smiling down at him like he’s exactly where he belongs.

“Can I help you?” Jon finally asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I hope so,” Tim says lightly. “But first, I brought lunch.”

He sets a sandwich down in front of Jon. Jon blinks in surprise, and only now notices the rumbling of his stomach and the empty desks around him as everyone else in his shared office has gone out for lunch. “Oh. Sorry, we had planned to meet up, hadn’t we?”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind eating here.” Tim takes a bite of his own sandwich, as if to demonstrate. Jon wrinkles his nose as he continues talking, mouth half full. “Reading anything interesting?”

For a second Jon hesitates - out of all the people in the Research Department, Tim might be the only one to agree with him that ‘The Architecture of Cathedrals in the 15th Century’ is actually interesting. But based on the look in his eyes, Jon suspects he has something more pressing to talk about. “Nothing too important,” he finally says, carefully prying the wrapper away from his food. “What did you need help with?”

“I’ve been working on a case.”

Jon looks up from his sandwich - spicy chicken and cucumber, just what he prefers - and frowns. “The one with the cat, right?”

Tim heaves a melodramatic sigh. “Yes, the one with the lady who claims her cat got eaten by, let me quote, ‘a six foot tall monster with too many legs and teeth’. As if that’s the only logical explanation for an outdoor cat to go missing in London. Never mind, oh, I don’t know, cars and foxes and all that.”

Even as he tries to suppress it, Jon can’t quite help the grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “You sound like you had a bit of a week.”

“Oh, you have no idea. I called every vet and the animal shelter if they’ve seen any unusual injuries. And then I’ve knocked on every door in the area that has a cat flap and asked them if their cat has gone missing in the last year, and I scoured every possible missing pet portal on the entire internet.”

“... and? Did you find anything?” Jon asks when Tim doesn’t continue.

Tim throws his hands up, exasperated. “Of course I found something. Do you have any idea how many cats go missing every year in a city like this, entirely due to natural causes?”

Jon nods. “Okay, I get your point. This still doesn’t answer the question of what you need help with though.”

“Look, I just thought... if there is a monster like that - and I’m not saying there is - it’s big enough to harm more than cats, right? So I looked for missing dogs as well. And then, while I was on a roll and because I was terribly bored, I looked for missing persons.”

At that, Jon raises an eyebrow. He knows Tim is an excellent researcher, thorough in everything he does, but that seems to go even beyond his usual rigour. “You can’t possibly tell me you found an account of a person being eaten by a monster like that. Surely we would have heard of it by now.”

“No, ‘course not.” Tim rolls his eyes, taking another bite of his sandwich before he continues. “This has nothing to do with that. But what I did find was a missing person’s report from about a year ago, and several accounts from the last few months that the building where he used to live is haunted.”

Jon stills, looking at Tim with a frown. “That rather sounds like someone is making a crude joke.”

“At first I thought so too,” Tim says. “But the reports on the hauntings didn’t mention that a person went missing there. And the guy’s address isn’t even public. They couldn’t have known. I had Sasha dig that up for me, along with other details on the case. You know Sasha, right?”

Jon nods - he doesn’t think he’s ever talked to her, but even he can’t escape the Institute gossip when someone transfers from Artifact Storage to another department. And he’s seen her around Research by now, in the last few weeks. “I- yes. But… what kind of ‘haunting’ are we talking about here?”

Tim shrugs. “There seems to be a bunch of evidence. Recordings of hushed voices and weird noises, something like rustling? Blurry figures in the shadows. Cold spots.”

“I’m not sure I would count that as evidence.”

Tim lets out a long sigh. “Don’t be such a sceptic.”

Jon frowns. “It is our job to be sceptical.”

“Yeah, sure, but you have to admit it’s a weird coincidence, right? That this building where one person disappeared is supposedly haunted since then?”

Jon bites his lip. He trusts Tim’s instincts. And he can’t deny that there’s something off about this whole thing, even if he can’t put his finger on it. It happens sometimes, that a case just feels… wrong, he supposes. That it comes with a prickle of unease and a shiver down his spine, in a way that is too familiar to ignore. He wonders if Tim feels it as well, or if he just - for some unfathomable reason - wants to get out of interviewing even more cat owners.

“What do you want to do about this, then?” he finally asks, and Tim’s face immediately brightens.

“I want to go view the flat. There’s a rent advertisement online. Perfect opportunity for a bit of snooping.”

“Okay. And you need me for… what, exactly?”

At this Tim smiles - a bit mischievous, which is his usual expression, but also a bit bashful, which is a rare sight for someone as self-assured as Tim. Jon can’t help but feel a bit nervous about that, and reaches for his long cold mug of tea.

“I need you to pose as my boyfriend,” Tim says calmly, and Jon promptly chokes as he takes a sip.

“What?” he finally manages to get out as soon as he can breathe again. His cheeks are burning, but Tim just gives him a sympathetic smile and a pat on the back.

“You heard me. Come on, help me out there buddy.”

“But… why?”

Tim lets out a long sigh. “Look, I first tried to be honest, but when I called the landlord and mentioned the Magnus Institute he swore at me and hung up. The rent advertisement is just the backup plan. I need you to be with me and take over the speaking to make sure he doesn’t recognize me.”

For a moment, Jon can only stare at him. “I still don’t understand why I’d have to be your boyfriend. Can’t I be your flatmate?”

“It’s a one bedroom apartment. He’s not going to believe we’re flatmates.”

“What about Sasha? Can’t you ask her?” Jon asks, a bit helplessly.

Tim gives him a long look. “Jon, I’m trying very hard not to be offended that you really don’t want to fake date me, but you’re not making it easy.”

“I- I’m not-” Jon splutters before heaving a sigh. “I- fine. Fine. I’ll do it.”

Tim cheers, even as Jon glowers at him. “Oh, this is fantastic,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “I’ve always wanted to do something like this. Can I call you a pet name?”

Heat rises in Jon’s cheeks. He tries his best to glare even as his stomach swoops at the idea, for reasons he resolutely does not want to examine. “Absolutely not.”

“Hold your hand?”

“No.”

Tim lets out a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re no fun.”

“This is supposed to be work, not fun.”

“I can multitask and do both at once, Jon.”

Suppressing a groan, Jon rolls his eyes at him, and decides to just move on. “When do you want to do this?”

“Okay, so, I need you to call to set up an appointment. We can-”

Abruptly, Tim stops. He goes still, the excited grin slipping off his lips. He’s not looking at Jon anymore, his eyes instead fixed on something behind him.

Jon whirls around in his chair, and startles when his gaze falls on Elias Bouchard, head of the Magnus Institute, standing in the doorway to his office. As usual, he is wearing an impeccable grey suit and a smile that never quite matches the piercing look in his eyes. Somehow, there’s always something unnerving about him, although Jon can’t put his finger on it.

“Um. Hello, Mr. Bouchard,” he starts slowly.

Elias’ smile widens just a little bit. “Jonathan. I’ve told you before, call me Elias,” he says smoothly. “And Timothy. Just the man I wanted to speak to.”

Tim winces and sits up a little straighter. “Of course. What can I help you with?”

Elias fixes Tim with a long stare that makes Jon squirm in his seat. “I had a rather unpleasant call with one Mr. Abbott earlier,” Elias finally says, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “He complained that someone from the Magnus Institute asked to see one of his rental properties to investigate a case.”

“I’m just doing some regular follow-up, Sir,” Tim says, a bit defensively. Jon finally looks away from Elias towards Tim, and watches the crease between his brows deepen as Elias continues.

“Of course. I’m sure you were perfectly polite, Timothy. Mr. Abbott, however, was quite clear that he believes an investigation like this will hurt his carefully crafted image. And I just couldn’t help but wonder why you were contacting him when you were supposed to work on the… what was it, the case of Mrs. Mitchell, I believe? Regarding the disappearance of her cat?”

“Err. Yes, I-”

“Are the cases connected?” Elias asks, a sudden sharpness in his voice that makes Jon flinch. Tim’s mouth twists, as if he’s trying hard to suppress a grimace.

“I don’t believe so, no,” Tim says hesitantly. “I just thought-”

“In that case, I would advise you to focus on the work you were assigned, Mr. Stoker.” The tone in Elias’ voice makes it very clear that he won’t accept any objections. Nevertheless, the smile on his lips doesn’t falter. “We wouldn’t want to get any more complaints, would we?”

“I-” Tim stops himself, letting out a sigh. “Of course, Sir.”

“Since it seems you might have gotten bored with the Mitchell case, I’m sure you have already conducted all necessary research and can deliver the report to my desk by this evening. Or am I mistaken?”

Tim’s frown deepens, but he doesn’t protest. “Sure,” he grumbles.

“Excellent,” Elias says, the sudden sharpness in his voice gone as quickly as it came. He gives them both a short nod. “Have a good day, gentlemen.”

With that, Elias turns on his heels and walks away. He’s out of sight as soon as he turns a corner down the corridor, but still, Jon can’t help but stare after him. Beside him, Tim lets out a pitiful groan.

“This evening?” Tim buries his face in his hands. “I had until next week to do the report. I haven’t even started it.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says with a wince. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Nah. Don’t think so. But thank you.” Tim looks up with a small smile and stands, wrapping up the remains of his sandwich. “I’ll best get back to work if I want to have this done by five.”

Jon lets out a small hum, but he’s still distracted by what just happened. Again, he stares down the corridor, as if Elias might reappear any second. He can’t shake the feeling of his eyes on him.

“Are you alright?” Tim asks. Jon startles a little and looks back at him. Tim is watching him with a quizzical expression on his face.

“Yes,” Jon says hesitantly, chewing on his bottom lip. “It’s just… that was strange, wasn’t it?”

Tim shrugs. “Yeah. But everything about Bouchard is strange.”

“I suppose. But this was...” Jon hesitates. This was more than strange, he wants to say. This feels like Elias doesn’t want us to investigate whatever is going on in that haunted flat. But that’s a silly thought, isn’t it? Jon shakes his head. “Nevermind. Good luck with the report.”

Tim gives him a pained smile. “Thanks,” he says miserably, and finally shuffles back towards his office.

That afternoon, as much as Jon tries to go back to his book, he can’t quite stop thinking. He can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, in a way that makes him jittery and anxious and makes it impossible to focus on the words in front of him. He stays late to make up for it, and when he finally calls it a day, the other researchers that share his office have already left. Jon puts on his coat and grabs his bag, and goes to check on Tim.

The door to Tim’s office is still open, although all the desks are currently unoccupied. Tim’s desk is a bit of a mess, filled with piled up papers and books and too many empty cups of tea. With their earlier conversation about the case still on the forefront of his mind, Jon gives in to the temptation to step closer and skim through the texts scattered on the desk.

It doesn’t take long until his gaze falls onto what looks like the copy of a police report. Carefully, he pulls the paper out from underneath a book. It’s undoubtedly the missing person’s report Tim has mentioned. The address fits to the area of the case he was working on. Jon starts reading, and immediately stills.

It hits him suddenly that Tim had never mentioned the name of the missing person. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that there are actual people behind the cases they’re researching. But there’s the name, right next to a photograph.

In the photo, Martin Blackwood is looking directly at the camera, a small smile on his lips. Jon takes a moment to take him in - the pudgy cheeks covered in freckles, the sad eyes, the light brown hair falling in soft curls around his face. An actual person, with a life and friends and family who must wonder what has happened to him after he disappeared a year ago. Who maybe still have hope that one day, he will come back.

So far, Jon was only a little irritated that Elias intervened in their investigation. Now, he’s suddenly furious.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Jon pulls out his phone and takes a photograph of the report. He places it back on Tim’s desk and leaves.

As he walks to the tube station, he pulls up the address on his phone. He takes the train that goes in the opposite direction of where he lives, changes trains twice, and finally, half an hour later, steps out into the chill September air. By now, it’s already getting dark. Jon pulls up the collar of his coat to protect himself against the cold, and begins to walk towards the haunted flat where Martin Blackwood disappeared.

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fic #jonmartim #jontim #my fic #my fic: all that haunts us #it's heeere #my very first tma multichapter #and actually my longest ever fic #that I actually edit and upload #I have an entire rough draft done so I think regular updates will be fine?

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sugar-petals · 4 years ago

Text

BTS Tarot Reading ➝ What Kind Of Porn Do They Watch? (18+)

↳ NOTE - due to several requests, a steamy and detailed one. ☕️ we’re asking the cards about the erotica they fancy in a wider sense.

warning ⚠️ 18+ // bdsm mentions, worship, kinks left and right. we’re going graphic in all types o’ ways, lads.

♡ DISCLAIMER // tarot is speculative, there is no guarantee for accuracy. believing in the cards is a choice. all portrayals are fictive and for entertainment purposes only.

SPREAD #1:

yoongi

⌈ THE WORLD ⇁ Jesus... Someone’s obsessed with girls in the nude. That card has a stark naked woman wrapped in very little satin on it so you know what our funky little guy is up to. Luscious aesthetic fotos might be just around his corner. Big duh, he’s a photography major. These folks are all about body appreciation. He’s also on a personal vendetta against lingerie 😂 Yoongi won’t get hard looking at even the most HD panty and bra ads. Only the skin in its full splendor will do, no editing. He loves pictures of nipples peaking through shirt fabric, it’s all over his phone. Yoongi likes his gals without underwear 24/7 just like he dislikes underwear himself. If we’re talking porn, the woman on the card is holding two very long rods so may I connect the dots: Threesomes, handjobs, blowbangs, spitroasting. Friction, friction, and more friction. To Yoongi’s brain, handjobs are a great um new version of holding hands. Sex standing up also, keeping it vertical. Yoongi doesn’t care about girth, inches count. Nice and elongated with a perfect plunge, something to hold onto. Yep, he’s pretty deliberate when searching that up. Yes, he loves the look of it. However, and you’ll be surprised: Even if he likes poly porn, it’s still nothing too extreme. This card is more about pleasure than pain. If a guy likes rough and degrading sex, you get swords and wands in his spread. THE WORLD is more about perfected skills and success. So, he likes the more accomplished porn stars. With a preference for curly blondes and redheads, that’s sort of the hair color on the card. Natural B or C cup. Medium height, not too curvy. Oversized booty not needed. In terms of nationality: We have three representative animals on the card. Eagle, lion and bull, plus a light blonde man’s head. So, anything that America/Germany/Albania/Mexico/Namibia (and so on, lot of countries with eagles as their national bird my dude), England, Spain and Scandinavia have to offer. Honey sugar is going international, baby.

hoseok

⌈ QUEEN OF WANDS ⇁ Did I just mention that guys who like rough sex in porn get wand cards in their readings in Yoongi’s segment? Well, there we have our candidate, with a very obvious card since it’s a court figure. Now, the thing is, this is not the guy being rough. The QUEEN OF WANDS is as notoriously femdom as can be. The very fiery and raw and fun version. So, with a degree of lightheartedness, but still being very fit — even buff — and hands-on with the sub. If you get the QUEEN OF SWORDS, that’s the more cool and calculated domme who signs you up for torture and humiliation, and she really looks like a domme. She’s all over the internet because she has the grit. Now wands combined with a tarot queen... it’s more about the stamina and she is approachable. Hobi does not like watching cruel girls, he likes challenging ones. Upbeat porn stars who can take a lot but most importantly dole it out assertively like pros are Hobi’s schtick. He’s unapologetic about that. With him it’s like, please not the local newcomers that turned legal a month ago. The queen cards are all about mature women. Mommy kink, hint hint. The kind of mommy who’s gonna whip out the spreader bar or cane (= wands again) and give a playful type of punishment. See how desert-like that imagery is, Hobi wants to sweat big time when he gets off to this. Now since wands also make for a damn good pole to dance on, go figure. This whole card has me wondering if, well alright, he is a Cardi B hard stan 😅 If Hobi blasts Money to get in the mood, I’d not be surprised. Anyway. Back to pole stuff: If you go through his youtube search history, you will find astounding things. I think he watches the more professional and athletic performers in competition though. High production value is key. Finally, an interesting card detail: There’s a sunflower on it. This is definitely his kind of tarot imagery.

jimin

⌈ KING OF COINS ⇁ This card always looks like a scene from a medieval movie so you might have an erotic film enthusiast here. The more chaste type of genre, pentacles are very grounded and not hypersexualized. The intimacy is slow and more about security and pleasure. It’s graphic and detailed, but gives you a sense of relaxation. With a bit of romance in the plot, that might absolutely be Jimin’s thing. Castles and wine and nobility. Interesting type of erotica. Historical and classy. As expected of a prince, mind you. He might enjoy books of that genre also. And we know Jimin is an avid reader, right up there with Namjoon. Now, even with more risque and contemporary stuff that he googles up, we have similar dynamics going down on screen. With Hobi we had femdom because it’s a queen card, now with Jimin we get the classic male dom type of porn because that’s how the King usually rolls, unless it’s the KING OF CUPS who’s touchy-feely and subby. Meanwhile, the KING OF COINS is your local sugar daddy. Leaning towards being a soft dom, he’s not aggressive. And Jimin surely has a little crush on that concept. Ye know, if all the other members have female cards and Jimin gets the sugar daddy, we might be dealing with mxm action. Because if this card was a porn star, he’d be a really, really rich producer and a bear who’s done this since the frickin’ 90s. He’s treating his subs very gently and lets them sit on their lap, the imagery is sort of like that because the King is balancing a pentacle on his left thigh. Sex and comfort all in one are life for Jimin. A sexy detail I only noticed at a second glance, the King also has a shortened golden staff with him, which has a rounded tip. If that’s not a butt plug… whenever I see props like that in tarot, I interpret it as a sex toy. So, good vibes in here. And a bunch of aphrodisiacs, the KING OF COINS is a foodie. Which you know, might just be a food porn type of reference. Jimin’s taste in sexy things is quite something else.

jungkook

⌈ THE EMPRESS ⇁ If there’s one thing I like, it’s the Tarot giving me the important archetypes during readings of that kind. The Queens, the Kings, the Major arcana (see Yoongi’s and Jin’s segment). You can really draw a lot of hints out of it. Now with the EMPRESS you have a similar case to Hobi’s, just a lot more softcore. Jungkook has a refined and pretty vast taste in erotica, if not the most refined in Bangtan next to Jimin who likes that kind of dignified touch to it as well as we saw. Jungkook knows his stuff when it comes to searching things up, he is a first class netizen in that regard. In terms of genre: The EMPRESS is your highkey feminist and wholesomeness legend, so — you won’t find any super creepy things in some hidden file on his PC, and things by female producers instead. No slut-shaming or name-calling here, everyone gets their pleasure in their own right. Thanks to online sex ed, Jungkook has a map to the clit and he’s not afraid to use it. He’s the type to watch solo videos ad nauseam. He’s fascinated. Masturbation until it gets all messy with the juices flowing, and you bet he wants to see the girls buzzing themselves off lying on their back. Maybe even outdoors in a field. Cum play is a must, cunnilingus is a must, he loves unprotected sex and creampies, he loves breast massages. And yes. Anything that involves sex with pregnant and chubby women. Similar to Taehyung, it’s all about the focus on the girl, he doesn’t bother much with the guy performers. And given Yoongi’s reading on top of that, we have three members in BTS who are all about worshipping the female body right here, breasts over ass, and he likes blondes, too. The EMPRESS card is like… the entire porn industry who does the MILF and BBW genre is financed by Jeon Jungkook’s website subscriptions. Cue GOT7, with Jungkook it’s girls, girls, girls. The thirst is going strong, and he’s unashamed times ten, sex is sex.

➝ we also have members who don’t really bother with erotica or have a complicated relationship with it.

SPREAD #2

taehyung

⌈ ACE OF WANDS reversed ⇁ He’s not about beating off until the world ends. Taehyung gets bored by porn or heated literature and doesn’t feel very motivated to search it up. He would rather come up with his own ideas to write but doesn’t have the energy. Sex drive: On hold, even if he tries to look something up it doesn’t feel very fulfilling to him. Most of it fails to turn him on, it’s not his kind of taste. He gets frustrated when he masturbates and would rather rest, dream, and doze. The only thing I can see him watch somewhat frequently — hold your horses — is lesbian porn. I’ll explain. The ACE OF WANDS is pretty much your most glaring handjob symbolism card. A hand gripping a stick. Yoongi’s THE WORLD card has very similar imagery, I mean even two wands and a girl, bisexual explosion much. He would be a big fan of the upright ACE OF WANDS card lmao! But the reversal is like, um no silly guys jerking off in here, pls. Keep your cum to yourself. That means: Zero dicks in Taehyung’s zone, girl-on-girl stuff is his very last resort for quality that he is desperate for but cannot find. And not the stuff where the producers just replace the guys with heavy arsenal sex toys, double-ended dildos, fucking machines, endless strap-on action without any clit stimulation on either side and whatnot. Taehyung is like ugh, cherie, why, give me the juicy stuff, give me the basics. What he wants is just pure scissoring, fingering, oral, little gentle bites, a lot of caresses and kisses. And slow, slow sex. Probably the amateur kind. He hates how brutal and exaggerated most things online are. Tae is looking for softness, a lot of lesbian action is what delivers in that regard so he takes all he gets. And it goes further than that, Taehyung knows the finest yuri recommendations, I’m telling you.

seokjin

⌈ THE STAR reverse ⇁ The opposite of Yoongi: not keeping it very naked in here. The upright card shows a nude woman pouring water from two cups. Hence a strong connection to the card of sexuality, TWO OF CUPS. Everything is very gentle and positive in that scenery. But then, the reversed card rather shows us that Jin doesn’t feel too thrilled watching other people film or write or photograph sex. Like in Tae’s case, he becomes bored, it’s all the same to him. Nothing’s ever new to him in porn. He feels negative and guilty rather than refreshed or entertained. He also doesn’t like a lot of kinks that very literally connect to, well, the pouring water. Squirting, cum play, watersports, sex in the pool or showers, lube overuse, creampies, bukkake, fake cum — Jin is rolling his eyes at that, he thinks it’s a circus. He’s surely given it a try, but ended up feeling worse and even more pent-up or dissatisfied. At best, you will find him on unknown websites looking for the most amateur videos there are. Because: THE STAR quite unequivocally hints at porn stars. If you reverse the card, it becomes someone not very well-known. He roots for the underdog. Accordingly, Jin’s reaction to mainstream videos goes this way: ‚Pipe down, you non-artists!’ 😆 Cause maybe, he does do it better aye, without the awkward angles anyway. He doesn’t want the body cult, like, put that airbrush and silicone out of my face bro. Not because he’s against surgery, but the idea behind sexual extremes and the shady high standards. It’s too polished for him to get turned on. And robotic/staged. Likely because he’s had an IRL sexual experience (gasp!) that set a different ideal to him, so the more glossy porn feels off. Home video has all he needs instead. I think it’s especially because you get so see more body hair there. The woman on the THE STAR card is all sleek, so the reversed card is the opposite, Jin wants that unshaved goodness.

namjoon

⌈ EIGHT OF CUPS ⇁ Now you’d think — and I thought, kinda — we’d get the master of erotica right here. And he’s had one hell of a reputation for that. Think of the ever-infamous Yaman TV interview where BTS were super upfront and revealing about their taste and what they watch privately. With especially Namjoon having the lion’s share. But this card says otherwise if his current state is concerned. The EIGHT OF CUPS shows a man wandering off into the night, leaving eight cups behind him. I think what that means is, he’s moved on. Namjoon’s cravings aren’t as strong as they used to be, nor does he have the time. He knows it won’t fix his loneliness or answer the questions of life. He might be on the search for different things to fulfill him, or ignore much of his hormones in favor for his career. Not that he didn’t dabble in it, he sure did, but that chapter is slowly closing and what’s next he doesn’t really know yet. He thinks about family and being a father, so the smaller and more risque pleasures become less significant. Desire, too. Ye olde soul syndrome is kicking in. The card is also centered around introspection, a quest for self, all these higher topics that aren’t the most grounded and don’t leave much space for being horny. Joon is simply to preoccupied and on the move. He sees porn as a distraction from his real self at this point, and he’s not the type to feel satiated after masturbating to something, similar to Jin and Taehyung. Instead, I think he carries that energy elsewhere, hence the wanderer going from A to B onto a mountain. In short, Namjoon naturally grew out of it by becoming more, well: Namjoon. He’s left a lot behind, he’s choosing self-development over temporary fun, and he will ponder a lot on the topic, the hows and whys and whats more often than not. So, he’s passed the baton to Yoongi and Jungkook if you will, and keeps a low profile as of now.

tarot mlist | ko-fi

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for anon:

#bts tarot #bts #bangtan #bts smut #bts tarot reading #tarot #long post

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mzkora · 3 years ago

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SPN TROPE ROUND ROBIN

Round 3- Prompt: Remix/Inspired by @spn-trope-round-robin

Title: tenderized

Rating: G/PG

Author: kestra_troi on AO3 aka me

Inspiration: “Red Meat Well Done”, by catnipster

Tags: Episode Coda for S11e17 Red Meat, Hurt/Comfort, gencest, No Sex, Hurt!Sam, Caring!Dean, Emotions

Summary: After the events of Red Meat, Dean decides to take Sam to a motel for some proper rest.

As they crossed state lines Dean eased off the gas. The distance helped. Sam’s almost death was hundreds of miles and a whole state behind them in the rear view mirror. Along with all his earlier bravado and jokes. That had been much too close. He nearly lost his little brother. Again.

For just a second, Dean glanced over at Sam, watching that broad chest slowly rise and fall. He had lasted all of half an hour before falling asleep, which Dean had taken as proof of how close to that razor’s edge everything had been. A tiny slip here or there and...The End. Luck. It was all pure luck. He studied his little brother, giving him a once-over as he had done for the whole drive so far. Poor kid must have been exhausted. Out like a light with his head resting against the window, his chin propped up by his arm.

Eyes back on the road ahead, Dean turned down the soft rock station so it was more in the background since Sam didn’t seem to really need the help sleeping. He fidgeted in his seat, feeling a bit cramped after so many hours on the road without a single stop. First, he stretched out his legs as best he could within the confines of the car. Then, he rolled the tension out of his shoulders and neck, which popped. He groaned and flexed his fingers only then realizing how tightly he had been holding on to the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax into the seat. He checked Sam out in his periphery, reassuring himself that his little brother was still there. Still breathing. Still just asleep.

Dean blinked, taking stock of their surroundings pretty much for the first time since they had gotten in the car. Not that there wasn’t much out there to speak of other than the road. Eventually though, after a few more miles, he did see a sign for the next town. Dean considered his options for a moment. Keep driving for at least another four or five hours to get to the Bunker or set up camp in town and start home later? Dean leaned forward to peer up at the sky which was still pretty much grey from horizon to horizon, but the east side was clearly getting darker. Then he sat back and looked at the clock. The sun would be setting soon. Maybe another hour of daylight left at the most.

They’d gone far enough for one lousy day. Sam deserved to rest in an actual bed. Coming back from the precipice all on his own and saving his life in the process? His little brother was a goddamn hero. A badass. And badasses deserved a nice, comfy mattress and some halfway decent pillows. They had earned a short break, right? So, when the exit came up, Dean pulled off the highway and rolled into town. He skipped the skeevy looking places on the outskirts of this run of the mill town for a motel that actually looked like it got cleaned once in a while in what seemed to be their downtown.

The Royal Inn was the one he settled on, with a quiet snort. As if royalty would ever be within a thousand miles of this place, but irony notwithstanding he cruised into the parking lot. He pulled up to the office and slowed to a smooth stop, not wanting to jostle Sam too much. He paused a second and checked Sam over one more time. Still breathing steady. Still asleep.

This one had been way too close. Way. Too. Close. The words kept playing on repeat in his head as they had for the entire day’s drive. Dean frowned, his eyes going soft and watery. With a sniff, Dean unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door, grabbing his wallet out of his back pocket while he got out of the car. He closed the door gently, more so than he normally would bother with and made sure he had the right ID and credit card to match before heading inside. At the office door he stole one more look at Sammy before ducking in to rent a room for a few days. They had earned a break. A mini-holiday. Just until Sam got back on his feet. Then they could go home and bunker down for a while. Maybe have a crappy action movie marathon with all the trimmings. Really live it up for a weekend before jumping back into the fray.

Room key cards in hands, Dean got back into the Impala and stared at Sam for a moment, briefly torn. Wake him now or wait until they were parked in front of the room? Did it matter? Not really. Dean closed his door without being too careful this time and took a hold of the wheel with his left hand while with the right he palmed his brother’s knee. Warm and solid just like it ought to be. “Gotta wake up, Sammy,” he said, giving the knee a squeeze. His hand slid up his brother’s thigh of its own accord and Dean let it sit there a second absorbing some of that wonderful body heat. When Sam didn’t stir, he gave him a couple quick taps to the leg to spur him on. “We’re here, Sleeping Beauty.”

Sam jerked awake and groaned, wincing at his own sudden movement. He blinked, rubbing his eyes as he carefully sat upright. “Dean?”

“Got us a room for a couple nights,” Dean explained, slowly driving off to find their spot. “Thought we could take it easy for a bit. Get you well.”

“I’m fine,” Sam mumbled, running his hand down his face.

“I know,” Dean replied, going along with that ridiculous assessment. He barely held in an eye-roll. After all these years he knew better than to try and argue outright with his little brother. That damn stubbornness saved their lives all the time, but it also annoyed the hell out of him sometimes too. Dean threw on the charm and smarm. “But we’ve both had a rough go the past twenty four hours, so a few days relaxing in a motel with some good, old fashioned pay-per-view will do us good.”

Sam huffed a laugh, then grimaced, one hand going to his stomach. Dean’s playful smirk lost a little bit of it’s sparkle, seeing Sam in pain. His eyes went to Sam’s abdomen, then his face, then back to the parking lot. “Yeah, okay,” Sam muttered, his words tattered around the edges. He swallowed, his mouth obviously dry.

Dean’s face went flat. He kicked himself for not stopping along the way to get them some water. Plus, Sam was really in pain if he wasn’t even going to argue at least a little. The pain meds he had gotten at the clinic must be wearing off. Dean pushed on the gas and scanned the numbers on the motel doors. He found their room and pulled into the nearest parking spot. Soon as he got Sam settled in for the night, he’d make a supply run. Stock up for the next three days of rehabilitation. He held out one of their key cards. “You good to get in on your own?”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam insisted, some of his natural brattiness coming out. He took the card Dean offered without another word and started to unbuckle his seatbelt.

The corner of Dean’s mouth curled up into a half smile. “Just asking, princess,” he quipped. “I’ll get our bags. Why don’t you head in and see what they got on offer. Classic Skinemax will put some color back in your cheeks.”

“Dean,” Sam whined, half exasperated and half amused. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, a faint blush rising to his cheeks nonetheless. A full smile spread across Dean’s face. Sam smiled at him, his face full of fondness. “Shut up,” he grumbled, pushing open his door.

Dean watched, still concerned but happy too, as Sam took his time in getting his ass out of the car. Dean waited. If he offered to help Sam would complain some more and wave him off, but every nerve in his body was honed in on Sammy, watching his every movement. Once Sam got his long limbs out and shut the door, Dean snapped into action.

He killed the ignition, yanked out the keys, got out, closed his door, opened the trunk, grabbed their overnight bags, slammed it shut and locked up the whole thing in the time it took Sam to amble his way to the room and open their door. Dean was quick on his heels, holding the door open for Sam once the great lummox passed through despite carrying everything. Sam, meanwhile, flicked on the lights. “Nice place,” he pointed out. Dean shrugged. So maybe he had splurged a little. Instead of the most basic two Queen beds, he had opted for two kings. And a microwave, and mini fridge, and coffeemaker. Basically what amounted to the deluxe suite around these parts.

“Only one in town with WiFi,” Dean lied, shutting down any chance of a debate. He really did not want to have to wrestle Sam into a three-day vacation. He needed bed rest and Dean was damn sure his little brother was going to get it. Sam nodded and headed further in, shuffling his way towards the beds. No rebuttal and no agenda other than going straight to bed. Dean walked inside and placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob before closing the door and locking them in for the night. “I knew my nerdy younger brother would demand internet access, so he could read articles about tax law and politics and other boring stuff like that.”

“It’s not boring,” Sam countered, tired but still a younger brother. “It’s important.”

“Of course, of course,” Dean facetiously placated while depositing their bags on the luggage rack. Sam wandered to the left hand bed and gingerly reached down to pull out the bedding. Dean hovered, at the ready. Sam got one corner free and most of that one side then gave up and slowly began to sit. Dean strode over and immediately finished untucking the rest of the sides.

“I got this, De,” Sam complained, hissing as he lowered himself down.

“Just making sure,” Dean replied. He yanked the covers out from under his brother as quick as he could and pushed them aside so they could be in easy reach. Once he got to the other side of the bed, he nabbed both pillows and stuffed them directly behind his brother’s back so he would be propped up. Sam didn’t comment on that, but Dean could feel his ambivalence even without him saying anything. He held out his hands so Sam could use him for balance if need be as he turned to lay down. Sam didn’t wave him off, but he also didn’t take Dean up on his silent offer. He gradually lifted one leg up onto the mattress without having to move too much.

Dean saw Sam’s grimace coming a mile away. “Here, let me.”

“I’m fine,” Sam reiterated, his breath huffy with strain. Despite his protests, he went a little limp and Dean swooped in. He crossed back over to Sam’s side and gently eased Sam’s long legs up onto the mattress and out to their full length. Sam sighed, wriggling to find a comfortable position. Dean sat at the foot of the bed and without any prompting started untying Sam’s boots. “De, you don’t have to—“

“Hey,” Dean interjected, all jokes aside. He looked Sam square in the eye. “Lemme take care of you a little, huh?”

Sam bit his lip, whatever masculine rebuke he had at the ready dying away under Dean’s determined expression. He nodded. Dean did the same then went back to taking off his brother’s boots.

The laces were a bit crusty with blood and mud, but Dean untangled them. Then holding the back of Sam’s shin, Dean gently tugged the boot off. Sam took a steadying breath. Dean paused. On Sam’s signal Dean helped him off with the other boot, then placed them on the floor by the bed.

“There. That wasn’t so bad was it?” Sam shook his head, his long hair pushed back behind his ears. Dean grinned and went for the socks. Sam curled his toes. “My feet are cold,” he said quiet and feeble like a little kid.

“Okay.” Dean grabbed the sheets and blanket instead. He draped them over Sam’s legs and tucked them in. Like he used to do when Sammy was a kid. The you-are-not-getting-out-of-bed-without-my-help obvious. He got the bedding up to Sam’s waist, then helped his brother sit up and get out of his jacket one arm at a time. “They give you a list of antibiotics?”

“Jacket pocket.”

Dean fished for a second and came up with the folded print out from the clinic. He unfolded it and started skimming. “What about painkillers?”

“On there too.”

“I’ll get ‘em in the morning,” Dean proclaimed.

“I need a bath,” Sam said, leaning into his pillows like a storybook princess. His eyes already fighting to stay open.

“Tomorrow, Sammy.” Dean stuffed the care instructions into his back pocket and smirked. “I’ll get a bucket and a sponge.”

“And a sexy nurse outfit?” Sam quipped, a sleepy smile on his lips.

“You bet, Sammy. The whole nine yards. Might even get a sexy chick in here to wear it.” Dean stepped up to Sam’s side and helped bring the sheets up to Sam’s chest. Sam let him, doing nothing but pull his arms free and settle them on top of the blanket cocoon.

Dean’s heart clenched seeing Sam so pale and weak. “You gave me quite a scare there for a minute, Sammy,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along his brother’s forehead like he used to do when they were little.

“Sorry, De,” Sam mumbled, a contented sigh escaping as he drowsily leaned into his brother’s soft, warm touch. He closed his eyes.

“Not your fault, Sammy,” Dean assured him. On a whim he couldn’t deny, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on Sam’s forehead. He froze in place, shocked at his own actions. Sam hummed softly. Dean got up in a flash and stepped back only then realizing he was still holding Sam’s jacket. He looked between his brother and the jacket and murmured, “Night night, Sammy.”

Sam mumbled some sounds but then he was out like a light. Again. Dean watched him sleep for a moment, relief and shame and need all warring in his chest for pride of place. He clutched Sam’s jacket tightly, then brought it up to his face. The jacket was still warm from Sammy’s body heat and Dean took a deep whiff. It smelled of hospital, that sterile antiseptic stink, and faintly of blood, but also of Sam. That pure, working-man’s musk he knew as well as his own hit his brain and his chest relaxed.

His Sammy was alive. That’s all that mattered. That’s all that ever mattered, really. Something clicked in his head. A jigsaw piece sliding into place, a perfect fit and necessary for the whole thing to make sense. Sammy. It was always Sammy. And it always would be, Sammy as long as Dean was alive. He didn’t need anyone else. No other soul than the one he shared with his perfect baby brother.

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already thought or said as much out loud, but that haunting uneasiness regarding that simple truth was gone. As was the shame. Sammy was his world. Point blank. How many times had he proven that to himself, to Sam, and pretty much everyone they had ever met? Sammy was his whole world and his world was alive and needed him. What more could he ask for right at this moment?

#spn trope round robin #gencest #sam and dean #cross posted on ao3 #spn ficlet

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years ago

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Welllp These Are Books: the January 2021 Edition

Tumblr’s gif search leaves a lot to be desired, so there’s no actual gif of her slamming the book shut, which is—y’know, disappointing. Still, the continued ability of the public library system to send books to my Kindle ensures that I continue to read every romantic comedy and fantasy story I can find. Of which I have plenty of thoughts and opinions. But, like, what’s the point of having thoughts and opinions if you’re not putting them on the internet? There isn’t one, obviously. Books and links and feelings and more ridiculous headlines all under the cut.

BEST BOOK AWARD WINNER OF A VERY WEIRD JANUARY THAT HELPED DISTRACT FROM A VERY WEIRD JANUARY

The Wrath & the Dawn by Renee Ahdieh Every dawn brings horror to a different family in a land ruled by a killer. Khalid, the eighteen-year-old Caliph of Khorasan, takes a new bride each night only to have her executed at sunrise. So it is a suspicious surprise when sixteen-year-old Shahrzad volunteers to marry Khalid. But she does so with a clever plan to stay alive and exact revenge on the Caliph for the murder of her best friend and countless other girls. Shazi’s wit and will, indeed, get her through to the dawn that no others have seen, but with a catch . . . she’s falling in love with the very boy who killed her dearest friend. She discovers that the murderous boy-king is not all that he seems and neither are the deaths of so many girls. Shazi is determined to uncover the reason for the murders and to break the cycle once and for all.

This was so good?!?! I finished the first book and them immediately started the sequel, like no break whatsoever?!! I wish they weren’t teenagers?!! But seriously I wish they hadn’t been teenagers. Like, I get it. It’s YA. That probably sells better, something about markets that I don’t understand. I don’t care. It was weird that they were teenagers. Also, some of the plot points just kind of...happened? And I’m not entirely sure they were ever resolved. (Although there are a bunch of short stories, so. Maybe I just haven’t gotten there yet.) Despite that, the writing was gorgeous, I remain as prone to swooning over sad boys patent pending as I was when I was sixteen and Shahrzad was a fantastic heroine. Nine out of ten (would have been ten if they weren’t teenagers) and have already put holds on other books Ahdieh has written.

OBLIGATORY RAGE-INDUCING ROM-COM

Head Over Heads by Hannah Orenstein The past seven years have been hard on Avery Abrams: After training her entire life to make the Olympic gymnastics team, a disastrous performance ended her athletic career for good. Her best friend and teammate, Jasmine, went on to become an Olympic champion, then committed the ultimate betrayal by marrying their emotionally abusive coach, Dimitri. Now, reeling from a breakup with her football star boyfriend, Avery returns to her Massachusetts hometown, where new coach Ryan asks her to help him train a promising young gymnast with Olympic aspirations. Despite her misgivings and worries about the memories it will evoke, Avery agrees. Back in the gym, she's surprised to find sparks flying with Ryan. But when a shocking scandal in the gymnastics world breaks, it has shattering effects not only for the sport but also for Avery and her old friend Jasmine.

I stopped reading it. Honestly. I got, like, 46% of the way through, kept complaining to Justin about how goddamn annoying Avery was and how no one had any personality and I wanted them all to fall off the beam and he was like—stop reading it, then? And I was like—I can do that? And then I did! Also, I understand it needed conflict, but the “shocking scandal” in the description is a sexual assault that was not only NOT my cup of tea, but felt like a massive attempt to be topical by using what happened at Michigan State without actually saying it was about Michigan state.

PEOPLE WHO DON’T KNOW SPORTS WRITE SPORTS AND DO IT OK

Evvie Drake Starts Over by Linda Holmes In a sleepy seaside town in Maine, recently widowed Eveleth “Evvie” Drake rarely leaves her large, painfully empty house nearly a year after her husband’s death in a car crash. Everyone in town, even her best friend, Andy, thinks grief keeps her locked inside, and Evvie doesn’t correct them. Meanwhile, in New York City, Dean Tenney, former Major League pitcher and Andy’s childhood best friend, is wrestling with what miserable athletes living out their worst nightmares call the “yips”: he can’t throw straight anymore, and, even worse, he can’t figure out why. As the media storm heats up, an invitation from Andy to stay in Maine seems like the perfect chance to hit the reset button on Dean’s future. When he moves into an apartment at the back of Evvie’s house, the two make a deal: Dean won’t ask about Evvie’s late husband, and Evvie won’t ask about Dean’s baseball career. Rules, though, have a funny way of being broken—and what starts as an unexpected friendship soon turns into something more. To move forward, Evvie and Dean will have to reckon with their pasts—the friendships they’ve damaged, the secrets they’ve kept—but in life, as in baseball, there’s always a chance—up until the last out.

I am admittedly a sports snob. Writing about sports is my thing and I’m super particular about reading about it. But this sounded good and for the most part it was good. Emotional, too. Like, “jeepers, that was intense” kind of emotional. But also some of the things Dean talked about were just...not how sports work and that drives me nuts. Also another story that was, as mentioned, super emotional only to get tied up in this nice little bow. Which, cool, but also...not? Just felt rushed at the end.

IN WHICH SHIPPING IS QUESTIONED AND I JUST LIKE BEN BARNES

Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo Soldier. Summoner. Saint. Orphaned and expendable, Alina Starkov is a soldier who knows she may not survive her first trek across the Shadow Fold—a swath of unnatural darkness crawling with monsters. But when her regiment is attacked, Alina unleashes dormant magic not even she knew she possessed. Now Alina will enter a lavish world of royalty and intrigue as she trains with the Grisha, her country's magical military elite—and falls under the spell of their notorious leader, the Darkling. He believes Alina can summon a force capable of destroying the Shadow Fold and reuniting their war-ravaged country, but only if she can master her untamed gift.As the threat to the kingdom mounts and Alina unlocks the secrets of her past, she will make a dangerous discovery that could threaten all she loves and the very future of a nation. Welcome to Ravka . . . a world of science and superstition where nothing is what it seems.

I wanted to like this so much. So, so much. And sometimes I did. Sometimes I did not. At all. World building is my weakness and this has got it in spades, but the characters are kind of—boring? I couldn’t really bring myself to care about Alina and I wanted to kick Mal in the shins sometimes. The only interesting one was The Darkling who’s like the embodiment of all evil and I am not here to ship-shame anyone, but it’s kinda weird to ship him and Alina. I pictured Ben Barnes the entire time. I’m still excited for the show. I’ll read the sequel at some point, probably.

BEING A JERK IS NOT ROMANCE, YOU’RE JUST A JERK

Would Like to Meet by Rachel Winters It's Evie Summers's job to find out. Because if she can't convince her film agency's biggest client, Ezra Chester, to write the romantic-comedy screenplay he owes producers, her career will be over. The catch? Arrogant Ezra thinks rom-coms are unrealistic—and he'll only put pen to paper if Evie proves to him that it's possible to meet a man in real life the way it happens on the big screen. Cynical Evie might not believe in happily ever after, but she'll do what it takes to save the job that's been her lifeline . . . even if it means reenacting iconic rom-com scenes in public. Spilling orange juice on a cute stranger? No problem. Leaving her number in books all over London to see who calls? Done. With a little help from her well-meaning friends and the adorable father-daughter duo who keep witnessing her humiliations, Evie is determined to show Ezra she can meet a man the way Sally met Harry. But can a workaholic who's given up on love find a meet-cute of her very own?

I love cliches. Love ‘em. Want to read about ‘em, want to write about ‘em. Here for happily ever after. Much less here for the overused and antiquated cliche of dude doesn’t believe in love like girl does, dude ridicules girl’s belief, dude was secretly in love with her the whole time. It’s super dumb. And we should stop writing it. Also really done with rom com girl can’t figure out her life! she’s overworked! she doesn’t have time for her friends! Super duper dumb. I don’t know guys, this book happened.

FAST-PACED ROMANCE ISN’T AS WEIRD WHEN IT’S WELL WRITTEN AND THERE’S A MOOSE INVOLVED

The Tourist Attraction by Sarah Morgenthaler He had a strict "no tourists" policy...until she broke all of his rules. When Graham Barnett named his diner The Tourist Trap, he meant it as a joke. Now he's stuck slinging reindeer dogs to an endless parade of resort visitors who couldn't interest him less. Not even the sweet, enthusiastic tourist in the corner who blushes every time he looks her way...

Two weeks in Alaska isn't just the top item on Zoey Caldwell's bucket list. It's the whole bucket. One look at the mountain town of Moose Springs and she's smitten. But when an act of kindness brings Zoey into Graham's world, she may just find there's more to the grumpy local than meets the eye...and more to love in Moose Springs than just the Alaskan wilderness.

This story of Alaska marries together all the things you didn't realize you needed: a whirlwind vacation, a friendly moose, a grumpy diner owner, a quirky tourist, plenty of restaurant humor, and a happy ending that'll take you away from it all.

I’m not one for slow burn, but I also have a hard time believing romances that happen in, like, a blink. Not the case here! It was so goddamn cute! There was a moose! Graham kept calling Zoey darlin’ and it made my heart try to explode in my chest! Stars Hollow-levels of small town with lots of side characters and a good plot and a restaurant that everyone always went to! You guys know I’m trash for everyone always going to hang out in the same restaurant! I’m reading the sequel now, so that’s how much I enjoyed it.

AMAZON BOOKS THAT CONTINUE TO BE WAY BETTER THAN THEY SHOULD BE

Elodie of the Sea by Shari L. Tapscott (part of the Eldentimber Series) Eight years have passed since the marriage tournament that decided the fate of Princess Pippa of Lauramore and strengthened alliances between the kingdoms of Elden. The competitors have moved on with their lives. Some have found adventure; some have found love. Prince Bran of Triblue, however, has put his life on hold, preparing for his father's crown. Two days before Bran's winter coronation, just when the prince cannot afford distractions, a girl washes onto the Triblue shore. She has no memory of her past life, no clue who she is or where she belongs—nothing but a ring on her finger and a peculiar marking on her cheek. And the newly crowned king has more than a mysterious girl to worry about. The sea has become unpredictable. Storms claim ships in the dead of night, and sailors return with horrifying stories of monsters from the deep. It soon becomes clear the girl and the bizarre events are connected. The girl came from the sea... and the sea wants her back. But Bran isn't willing to give her or his kingdom up without a fight, even if it means he must request help from every corner of Elden.

Listen, sometimes you have to read about a mermaid who lost her memory and the soon-to-be-king who’s, like, immediately in love with her. I mentioned Tapscott’s books in the 2020 post and the sentiment remains the same. You ever read a book that reads like fic? Lots of banter, some romance, steady pacing. That’s what her books are like. There are five in the Eldentimber series, all about a different princess in a different kingdom, but they all connect so characters pop up again and again and then they kiss. It’s real good.

#book reviews #the wrath and the dawn #laura reads books #i'm making my way through some of the recs you guys sent last time around too #but don't hesitate to send more #seriously i am down to read anything #welllp these are books

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thelittlepalmtree · 4 years ago

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I have such a desire to make a blog for all the rp drama I've experienced. I was recently in a rp server (because this will be confusing I'll just say it was Harry potter) this server was marauders based, I prefer golden trio era. The admins in the marauders server had tons of characters and there was really one clique and everyone else was pretty inactive so I tried to be nice and make friends. This will be important later but I often felt my characters' words and actions were willfully misinterpreted to always make them the bad guy. For example I had a character constantly be called judgemental because she would say "the slytherins are being dramatic" but other characters were fine to say things like everyone in your family is trash. I had a ton of trouble plotting with anyone let alone doing something shippy. And for some reason the entire roleplay happened in the dm channels (a lot of rp servers have them, it's supposed to be like texting) and there were almost no threads. I posted many starters and got a total of two replies in the 2 months I was there. These problems were overlooked though because I'm chill if I have characters that I like.

So I decided to start a golden trio era rp, that's my favorite era and it's rare to see people in it. The two admins of the marauders server and a few other active members joined my server. It was fine at first and the two admins (as we'll call them) decided to play Harry and Draco respectively with the internet to ship them. This surprised me because I'd had a long conversation with the new draco mun about how fandom unfairly simps over him and he's never been held accountable for his crimes and we agreed. We were feeding off each other even.

Now I play Ginny since I love her and Hermione because she's a major player in the plot. Before I knew about Drarry I approached part 2 of our destructive duo because they had applied for Harry. I said what I would say to anyone. I have a lot of love for hinny but it's not my otp for ginny so we can do whatever you want and I'm good. Their response was "Harry's not good enough for Ginny, but I'm also going to apply for Michael Corner and maybe he could ship with Ginny" (more or less). This was deeply weird to me because if Harry, the person who saved Ginny multiple times and always treated her kindly and respectfully is "not good enough" for Ginny why is the guy that dumped her for being good at quidditch better? Like if she had just said "i Don want to do it because I have something else planned" I would have been fine with it but I wasn't interested in a consolation prize and I certainly didn't feel comfortable with the way it was discussed as though I was being done a favor. But okay,I'll let it go.

As we open the rp there's a death eater element and Ginny, who I'm playing as an auror,suspects malfoy of being one and says so publicly. I felt it was a foregone conclusion she would hate Malfoy,his dad caused the single worst thing to happen to her in her entire life. Is it fair to blame Draco for his father's actions? Maybe not but Ginny doesn't need to ve rational.

So as things go along there is no attempt to plot with people outside the three that came from the other server even though we're getting new people everyday. And I've had complaints about people trying to plot with them and feeling really left out. Meanwhile in character Harry publicly goes out for a drink with Draco and gets tacos with him. And Ginny and Hermione are like "wtf you're going out with someone who used to be a death eater, bully, and is seemingly still a racist (because at this point he indicated he still believed that purebred were better)?" And pushed Harry on this. And Harry (ic) got defensive like how dare you judge who I keep in my life!!

Hey guys, if my best friend started dating the high school nazi who let all his nazi friends into our school, supported them as they beat up my remaining friends, guarded the door while their aunt tortured me, called me a slur, and never once apologized for any of their actions, I would end that friendship. Yes. Even if we were close.

So this whole thing blows up when each of them.loses their mind at these in character attacks. Keep in mind, my characters have faced much worse attacks in their servers. Absolutely no responsibility is taken for the fact that there are all these intricate little plots they've supposedly crafted without telling anyone. The issue is just that Draco is being attacked in character for what he did at Hogwarts ( you know when he was committing acts of terrorism for his nazi cult) and Harry was being judged for dating him.

The conversation with the draco player lasted for HOURS and my co-admin who was acting purely as a mediator and had no dog in this fight was shaking because of how stressed she was and how badly this person behaved. I was ready to kick them as they'd clearly violated the rules, but she did her best to give them a chance. If I were to post the dms believe me you would feel the same but we're not there yet.

So we kick the one and the rest of the clique follows. Okay, whatever. Fast forward to tonight and they've started their own server clearly copying my idwa, they've even copied my ad. I wouldn't be surprised if they jut cropped out my name and put in theirs.

Y'all really think you're good guys here? Have fun jerking each other off I guess

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wistfulcynic · 5 years ago

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To Keep It All The Year (3 /4)

Anyone up for a spot of pure fantasy in which people are essentially good and their positive actions are rewarded with deserved happiness? Yeah, me too. It’s been a WEEK, for me and @katie-dub and anyone else in the UK with a conscience and a shred of human decency, so let’s all have a bit of an escape.

SUMMARY: Killian Jones is a broken man, betrayed by everyone and everything he thought he could believe in. He’s all but given up on life until a fateful meeting with bartender Emma Swan and her son Henry gives him a reason to live again, and a chance to redeem his past.

All it takes is a little Christmas magic.

On AO3 | Tumblr: Part One | Part Two

Thanks as ever to @thisonesatellite who keeps me fuelled with whisky and lebkuchen, a paring ordained by the gods, and also because MAGICAL WREATHS OMG WUTTT ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Tagging all the folks from the last tag list, PLEASE do let me know if you want to be added or removed. @kmomof4 @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @darkcolinodonorgasm @snowbellewells @stahlop @mariakov81 @courtorderedcake @jonirobinson64 @tiganasummertree @ohmightydevviepuu @shardminds @jennjenn615 @superchocovian @teamhook

PART THREE: THE FUTURE

Killian moves out of his apartment that very afternoon. He can’t bear to spend another moment there. He needs a fresh start in a new place, one that will encourage him to be better rather than indulging the worst of him.

Everything he owns, every single thing, fits into a large satchel and a medium-sized suitcase. Packing it all takes less than an hour. Killian drops his key into the landlord’s mailbox and heads across town to a guesthouse he found with a quick internet search, not a great place but his finances are limited and it’s still better than that apartment. There’s an actual bed, for a start, and part of him is tempted to crawl into it and drink until his chest stops aching and he no longer sees the crushed look in Emma’s eyes each time he closes his own, but he has made promises to himself and he intends to keep them.

So instead he falls back on the least damaging of his old crutches and heads out for a walk. The guesthouse is a bit rough around the edges but the neighbourhood whose western boundary it marks is a vast improvement over his old one. There’s an elegance and dignity in the slightly run-down buildings here, like they’ve aged gracefully and in comfort without any of the desperation and squalor that characterised his old place. They’ve kept their head up, even through hard times, and they haven’t given in. A lesson lurks in there somewhere, he thinks.

He’s been wandering for about half an hour when his attention is caught by a door. Not a particularly remarkable door, but has a jolly little Christmas wreath hung upon it which brings a smile to Killian’s face. Something about those little wreaths always draws him in, he thinks. Something he can’t quite put his finger on...

The door is made of wide wooden planks painted a deep forest green and boasts an old-fashioned brass knocker in the shape of a roaring lion. It belongs to what appears to be a small bookshop, and as Killian pushes it open he feels a stirring of eagerness that he hasn’t felt in years. He can’t remember the last time he read a good book. Something layered and complex, he thinks, with a well-crafted world that he can dig into and lose himself for a while.

The shop is surprisingly spacious, with row upon row of tall wooden bookshelves lined up straight as soldiers along its walls and a broad central aisle leading to the till and a small cafe at the back. Twin spiral staircases rise up on each side to a mezzanine where he can see more shelves and a cosy reading area with overstuffed sofas and armchairs and a few scattered beanbags of the perfect size for children. Killian walks slowly down the centre aisle, aware his mouth is hanging open and barely resisting the urge to spin around, gaping in awe. Were he asked to give a description of his ideal bookshop it would be precisely this, he thinks, from the aged patina on the shelves to the fluffy grey cat curled on a cushion in the window, to the truly dizzying array of books. It is magnificent.

“Can I help you find anything?” Killian shakes himself from his reverie and turns to see a petite brunette in towering heels smiling a friendly smile.

“Ah, no thank you, lass,” he replies, “I’m just br—you know what, actually, yes. You can.”

He explains what sort of book he’s after and the woman—Belle, according to her name tag—leads him around the shop in search of it. She makes excellent recommendations, a fair number of which he’s already read, but after an enjoyable hour or so Killian has a small armload of books he can’t wait to crack open and perhaps, he hopes, a friend.

After he pays for them he and Belle stand at the till for another ten minutes or so, chatting amiably. Killian formally introduces himself and informs Belle that he’s just moved to the neighbourhood and is out exploring. He’s just about to ask if she knows a good place to eat when he spots the small sign taped to the cash register.

“Are you hiring?” he says in surprise.

“I am. I could use an assistant three or four days a week,” says Belle. “You interested?”

“I might be,” Killian replies. He’ll need a job to afford the new life he intends to build for himself, he thinks, and working in this lovely little shop with Belle would be a dream come true.

“Any retail experience?” she asks.

“None. But I’m a fast learner and fairly widely read.”

“I’ll say,” says Belle wryly. “Okay, let’s give it a try. I can start you on—” she names an hourly wage that has Killian’s eyes widening.

“Is that the standard market rate for a bookshop assistant?”

“Nope.” Belle’s voice is cheerful and also makes it clear she doesn’t intend to answer any questions on the subject.

“Er—okay. Well, that would be more than satisfactory.” Enough to give him the new beginning he needs, he thinks. More than.

Belle nods. “When can you start?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Perfect.”

—

Belle lives above the bookshop, in a two-bedroom flat that she claims can get a little lonely. She claims this a week into the new year when she learns that Killian is looking for a place to live, and insists on showing him the spare room that very minute.

Her flat is tidy but comfortable and the room she shows him plainly furnished, with polished hardwood floors and plaster walls painted a warm ivory. A large chest of drawers takes up one corner and in another is a metal framed bed spread with a quilt that he’s sure is handmade. There’s a single wide window framed by soft yellow curtains that turn the afternoon light golden and a single framed poster on the wall, of Waterhouse’s Miranda. Killian stares at the painting for some time, thinking it should probably upset him. Instead he feels soothed, by the room’s gentle simplicity and by the shipwreck safely tucked away in the brushstrokes of an oil painting. He moves in the next day.

He and Belle get on splendidly. Their habits mesh in a comfortable way, both being meticulously tidy early risers, equally content to spend their evenings in heated argument about books as in the silent companionship of reading or watching television. Killian almost wishes their easy friendship could develop into something more, though it does occur to him that he’s never had a woman as just a friend before and perhaps this is a thing that might do him some good.

That and he still dreams of soft golden hair, and green eyes that see into his soul.

He begins to eat regular healthy meals, sharing the cooking duties with Belle, and after a month or so of that he joins a gym. He still goes on his long, rambling walks but far less frequently than before, using them as an opportunity to explore new neighbourhoods rather than a desperate attempt to escape his demons and he never, never stops at the docks.

He also starts seeing a therapist, on Belle’s gentle suggestion after one too many nights of being woken up by his nightmares. She can recommend one personally, she confesses, for the very same reason that she is able to pay him so well. The bookshop is financed by hush money—she spits the words—her lavish divorce settlement from a man who controlled and abused her for years and when she finally managed to leave him tracked her down and nearly killed her. She grips Killian’s hand tightly as she tells him this, tears rolling unheeded down her cheeks, yet there is a ring of triumph in her voice as she explains how he signed over more than half his assets to her in exchange for her promise not to prosecute, or sell tales of his abuse to the press.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have taken it,” she says. “Maybe I should have exposed him instead, or pressed charges. But he could weather bad press or bribe his way out of jail time while it will take him years to build his business back up again. Decades, even. And meanwhile I have my shop. And my freedom.”

Belle knows as well as Killian does how heavily tainted money can weigh on person’s conscience, and that the only way to bear its weight is by turning it to something good. She’s a survivor, just like him. Just like Emma.

Slowly, so slowly, Killian feels the parts of himself he thought were broken beyond repair begin to mend, and every day he focuses on that healing. He nourishes his body with exercise and good food and he nourishes his mind with books and conversation. He nourishes his soul as well, with his therapy sessions and with the bookshop’s weekly children’s story time, which Belle insists he take charge of after catching him watching wistfully from behind a shelf as she sat surrounded by a semicircle of rapt faces, reading an adventure book.

He was thinking of Henry.

He thinks of Henry often, and of course of Emma. Every time he rambles through a new part of the city he wonders if they are living there, perhaps in one of the sprawling houses with soft green lawns in the residential areas, or maybe in an airy loft in one of the edgier, artier neighbourhoods. He hopes that wherever they are they’ve found a true home of their own, with security and comfort and reliable childcare for Henry. Emma no longer needs to work so she could study full time if she wished, or do something else entirely. She wouldn’t strictly speaking need to do anything, but if Killian knows her—and despite the short duration of their acquaintance he’s quite certain he does—she will want to keep studying, for her own satisfaction and to find a career that suits her. Emma Swan could never be content sitting around all day doing nothing. She would want to do some good in the world, regardless of her personal circumstances. The kindness she showed to a strange man in a bar when she had next to nothing of her own was proof enough of that.

It hurts to think of them but it’s a good sort of pain, a gentle, bittersweet ache that warms his heart, nothing like the tearing agony he felt for so many years whenever he thought of Liam. Thoughts of Emma and Henry inspire him, keep him moving steadily along this new path he’s chosen to tread. Though he’s certain he’ll never see either of them again he wants to live his life in a way that honours his feelings for them.

He doesn’t go back to the bar where he and Emma met, not often. It’s just a place to drink without the magic her presence lent it, and drinking is a thing he’s trying to do less of these days. But the following Christmas Eve he finds himself back in his old neighbourhood standing before the plain brown door. There’s a jolly little Christmas wreath hung upon it, and Killian knows by now that he’s powerless in the face of those wreaths. He lets it draw him in through the door and over to a stool at the bar where he orders the expensive rum Emma gave him last year and sips it slowly as the memories that infuse the very air of this place both warm and pain him. He’ll allow himself this, he thinks, just this one small lapse. He’s worked hard all year, he can have one evening of self pity. His Christmas gift to himself.

“Hey, sailor.”

The voice is impossible and yet he hears it, turns towards it in astonishment then scrambles to his feet.

“Emma!” he gasps. He stares at her, drinks in the sight of her, of the face that’s haunted his dreams for a year lit up by a bright smile. “What—what are—I had no idea you’d be here.”

“I almost wasn’t,” she replies. “I was at a Christmas party across town, actually. but then I just had the strangest urge to come here and so here I am.”

“It’s wonderful to see you, love.” His astonishment ebbs and gives way to a fierce and fearsome joy. He can’t believe she’s here, right in front of him and real, and so lovely he aches to look at her. “How are you? How’s Henry?”

“Henry’s great. I’m great. We’re great.” She laughs.

“That’s... well, it’s great.” His smile is beginning to hurt his cheeks, but he could no more stop smiling it than he could make the Earth spin backwards.

“It is,” she agrees. “Listen, um, can we sit down somewhere?”

“Of course. Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah.” Something shifts in her smile, sharpens it in a way that steals his breath. “I’ll have a rum.”

He orders one for her and another for himself and they sit together in a small, round booth in the corner of the bar. It’s cosy and intimate and it envelops them, making Killian’s heart pound and his mouth go dry.

Emma seems unfazed, giving him a cool once-over as he slides in beside her on the leather seat. There’s a new confidence in her demeanour now, the kind of quiet assurance that forms in people who answer to no one but themselves. It sits well on her, he thinks. Comfortably, like it was always waiting for her to slip it on.

“You look good,” she tells him.

“Um.” He feels himself flush and gulps some rum to wet his throat. “Thank you. You look lovely, but then you always did.”

She observes him in silence for a moment, sipping her own drink. “I looked for you, you know,” she says.

“You did?”

“I did. Do you know how many Killian Joneses there are in the phone book?”

“Er—no.”

“Zero,” she declares. “Including you.”

“Ah. Well I don’t really—”

“But,” she interrupts, “as it turns out, I’m pretty good at finding people, even when they don’t want to be found. I found you, eventually. In that bookstore where you work.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I was going to come in but you, ah, weren’t alone. I saw you through the window, standing with a woman. Laughing.” She stares into her glass. “I’d never seen you laugh like that before. Or at all.”

“A woman?” Killian frowns in confusion. “What woman?”

“A really pretty one with long brown hair,” says Emma quietly. “Cute dress, very petite. You looked... close.”

“Belle,” he says. “My boss and flatmate.”

“Flatmate?” Emma repeats with an odd note in her voice. Her eyes flicker up to him then back to her glass.

“Er—my roommate,” he amends.

“I know what a flatmate is, Killian.”

“Ah. Yes of course, I just, er—”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

He’s taken aback by the non-sequitur, and the shy smile that accompanies it. The shy smile and the eyes shining with something that makes his already galloping heart pound harder still. “Well, it’s Christmas Day,” he replies weakly.

“That’s also a thing I know.”

“I was just planning to have a meal with Belle, maybe watch some Christmas movies,” he says. “Nothing special.”

“Why don’t you and Belle come to my house instead? For dinner?”

“Oh, well, I—”

“Come on, you have to,” she cajoles. “Henry would never forgive me if he found out I’d seen you and not invited you. He talks about you all the time.”

“He does?”

“He does.”

Killian takes another gulp of rum, emptying the glass. He feels dizzy at this turn of events, almost afraid that they will turn out to be nothing more than another fevered dream. Surreptitiously he pinches his thigh and when he feels the sharp prick of pain he risks a look at Emma. She’s still smiling, that same hopeful, expectant smile he’d been so powerless against one year ago. “Well, I’ll have to check with Belle but I’m sure she’ll agree,” he says. “I’ve—mentioned you and Henry once or twice myself, she’ll be over the moon to meet you both.”

Emma’s smile turns radiant. “Give me your number and I’ll text you the address,” she says. He does, and a moment later his phone dings with a new message. Her address he recognises from his rambles as belonging to a part of town that’s nice but not ostentatious, with comfortable family homes and plenty of parks and very good schools. He thinks about Emma and Henry living there and feels a warm glow of sheer delight. It’s exactly what he hoped for, for them.

“I have to get home,” says Emma. “I told Henry’s babysitter I’d be back by midnight. But—you will come over tomorrow, won’t you? About noon? You promise?”

Killian smiles. “You have my word. I’ll see you then.”

—

Belle agrees to have dinner at Emma’s with as much enthusiasm as he predicted, practically dancing with excitement at the prospect.

“The mythical Emma and Henry!” she sings. “I feel like I’m about to meet a unicorn, or Santa himself.”

Killian’s stomach is dancing too, with anxiety and eagerness and hope. Foolish hope, he tells himself firmly, but it ricochets around his insides nonetheless and refuses to be quashed. He walked away from Emma a year ago so she could have the freedom to make her own choices and she chose to find him, to invite him back into her life. He’s not certain quite what that means but he thinks—he hopes— that at the very least he won't have to go another whole year without seeing her and Henry. That thought alone is enough to make his Christmas bright.

As he stands in the shower with the hot water flowing over him he thinks about how very different his life is than it was just a year ago. The fact that his shower is hot and the water plentiful is the very least of the changes. He no longer has nightmares, no longer feels haunted by his past or fears he might be swallowed up by bleak despair. The dark moods still come from time to time but he is prepared for them now, equipped to weather them without turning to self-destruction. He feels healthier than he has since his navy days, physically as well as mentally. His paunch is gone, replaced with firm muscle, and though he’ll never be as ripped as some of the younger men he works out alongside, he’s toned and strong and that’s enough for him. His complexion now has a ruddy glow, especially when he returns from one of his walks, and he’s begun to take more care with his appearance again, keeping his hair trimmed in a flattering style and investing in a nicer wardrobe.

He gets out of the shower and towels himself dry, then dresses in some of his new garments: charcoal trousers and a black sweater over a shirt with a soft tonal pattern, pale purple and blue against dove grey. He wonders what Emma will think of his new clothes, what she will think of all the changes this past year has wrought in him. He wonders if she’s thought of him the way he’s thought of her.

He wonders what he can bring to dinner this afternoon. There’s a bottle of good wine in the cupboard that he and Belle planned to have with their own Christmas meal and of course many things in the bookshop he’s sure Emma and Henry would love. That should be fine for gifts but still something troubles him, an itchy sort of tingle at the back of his mind, like he’s forgetting something vital. What was it that he brought for them last year? He frowns as he tries to remember. The ship for Henry, that was it, and flowers for Emma from that odd little shop, the one with the florist who reminded him of... of...

Bloody hell.

Killian reels, gripping his bedpost for balance as memories from the year before come flooding back, clear and perfect as though they happened only yesterday. It couldn’t be, he thinks, it’s impossible, and how could he not have noticed at the time? How could he not have seen?

Magic, little brother.

“Killian!” Belle raps sharply on the half-open door of his bedroom, her tone of voice suggesting she’s been calling him for some time. “Are you ready to go? It’s nearly half past eleven.”

“Aye, love.” He breathes in deeply and stands upright. “Be right there.”

They go down to the shop where Killian selects several books for Henry, some of which are slightly above his age group—because a child should have a library that builds towards the future—and, remembering the shelves in her old apartment, a picture frame for Emma made of delicately carved rosewood. He wraps them carefully and rings them up on his employee account as Belle calls them a cab. It’s not far at all to Emma’s house but when Killian suggests they walk Belle informs him crisply that while he might enjoy a snowy stroll across twelve city blocks her shoes would not, and takes out her phone.

The quiet Christmas streets make the ride a short one, but Killian is glad of even a few minutes of peace to sit and to think and spends most of the journey staring out the window at the snowy trees and lawns and attempting to sort through the chaos in his mind.

“Why didn’t you put the wreath on the door this year?” he asks Belle.

“What wreath?” She turns to him with a small frown.

“Last year there was a Christmas wreath on the door of the bookshop,” he replies. “A small one, made of evergreen and holly with pinecones and cinnamon sticks and a big red bow. It’s what caught my attention as I was walking by, why I went inside.”

Belle shakes her head. “There wasn’t any wreath, Killian, though that’s a lovely idea. Maybe we can get one for next year.”

“Aye. I know just the shop to get it from,” he mutters, and then the cab pulls up to Emma’s house.

It’s a charming little house, two storeys of dark red brick with slate blue trim on the windows and on the wide porch where comfortable looking wicker furniture and outdoor toys are all jumbled together. There’s a snowman on the lawn, jaunty and quite pleased with himself in his red and green striped scarf and an actual top hat, surrounded by piled-up and solidly-packed mounds of snow and the gruesome remains of what was evidently a long and hard-fought snowball battle.

The mat lying at the foot of the front door reads Welcome! Everything is fine in soothing green lettering and Killian and Belle exchange a grin as they ring the bell. From within they can hear the sound of voices and then the door swings open and Emma appears, looking festive in skinny jeans and a green sweater with the cartoon face of Rudolph on the front, his nose large and round and glittery red. There’s a plastic holly sprig behind her ear and a bright smile on her face.

“Hey!” she says. “Come in! You must be Belle, I’m Emma. You can hang your coats just here.”

They do so, shrugging the coats off and handing Emma the wine and gifts which she accepts with a laugh that holds a touch of surprise. She leads them down a short hallway and into a cosy living room with a plush sofa along the wall and a tall and brightly decorated tree in the window. A fire blazes beneath a wooden mantelpiece where Christmas stockings labeled Henry and Emma still hang, empty now, and bits of wrapping paper and ribbon still cling to the rug in front of it. Killian has just enough time to observe these things before a miniature whirlwind bursts through the door and barrels into his solar plexus.

“Killian!” Henry cries, squeezing him in a tight hug. “Mom said you were coming but I couldn’t believe it. I missed you. Why didn’t you ever come back?”

Killian’s chest feels as tight as Henry’s arms as he struggles for breath and for the words to explain his conduct. “I’m sorry, Henry, I just—I—I had some things I needed to sort out with myself, before I could be good company to others.”

“But you’re here now, right?” Henry pulls back and looks up at him with brown eyes as wide and trusting as ever. “And you won’t go away again?”

Killian hesitates. He doesn’t want to presume, but then again Emma did come to find him. Surely it wasn’t overstepping to say he would visit Henry from time to time? He senses her watching him and looks up, catching her eye with an imploring look. She nods to him and he swallows hard before returning it.

“Aye, lad,” he says, stroking Henry’s hair with a hand that’s not quite steady. “I won’t go away again.”

“Good,” says Henry solemnly, and then his face lights up. “Guess what? I have my own room now!” he cries. “Do you want to see it?”

“I do indeed.” Killian glances at Belle who waves him away. “Go,” she says. “I’ll stay here and chat with Emma.”

Henry’s room has bunk beds with Thomas the Tank Engine sheets and an overflowing toy chest in one corner. There’s a small bookshelf as well, with the beginnings of a fine library already on it, and taking pride of place in the centre of the very top shelf is the ship Killian gave him last Christmas.

“I play with it in the tub. We have a tub now,” says Henry when he notices Killian looking at the ship. “Mom made sure we did but she says I can’t play in it every day because I splash too much and take too long, but on Saturdays I can play as long as I want.”

Killian takes a moment before replying. “What else do you like to play with?” he asks hoarsely.

Henry shows off his toys and books and though Killian is anything but an expert in parenting he can see that they’ve been carefully chosen for both fun and enrichment, and that while they are plentiful there aren’t too many for one child to use. Emma hasn’t spoiled him, or herself, despite how easily she could have.

When they head back downstairs they find Emma and Belle laughing together on the sofa, each with a cup of hot chocolate in hand and a plate of Christmas cookies on the coffee table in front of them.

“Hey!” says Henry indignantly. “I want hot chocolate!”

Emma gives him a stern look and he flushes. “Please,” he adds.

“There’s some for you in the kitchen,” she says, setting her mug down on the table and getting up. “Would you like some too, Killian?”

“Yes, thank you,” he replies.

They drink their chocolate and munch their cookies and conversation flows easily and merrily among them. Killian is amazed at how well Emma and Belle have hit it off and Henry is ‘on his Christmas behaviour,’ Emma says with a laugh, sitting on the floor playing with his trains and listening, occasionally piping up with a question or comment. Belle and Killian tell them all about the bookshop and Emma promises to bring Henry there as soon as possible.

“For the story time!” cries Henry, eyes wide at the prospect, and then Belle suggests he might like to open the presents they brought him. He squeals with delight at the new books, and Killian gets so caught up in telling him about them that he doesn’t notice Emma quietly unwrap the picture frame until he hears her soft “Oh!”

He turns to see her staring at it with misty eyes and an expression that makes his heart clench. “I know how you love your pictures,” he says softly. “I remember.”

“Henry, what do you say we find a place for those books on your shelves,” says Belle. “Then maybe you can show me your room and the ship Killian gave you last year?”

She ushers Henry from the room, leaving Killian and Emma alone, staring at each other.

“Emma—” he begins, just as she says “Killian—” and they share a nervous laugh.

“Me first, please,” she says, and he nods.

“Of course, love.”

She licks her lips and takes a steadying breath before she speaks. “When you walked away last year,” she begins, “outside the bank, I was so hurt. I know why you did it—I think I know—but it still hurt and for a while I was angry. I thought—I thought we had a connection, and then for you to just leave like that, I—” She shakes her head. “Well, I tried to forget about you and move on, build this new life for myself and Henry, and I did build it but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. All year I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, and I missed you. That may sound dumb since we only spent a day together, but that’s how I feel.”

“It doesn’t sound dumb at all,” he says. “I missed you too.”

She gives a small, choking laugh. “I thought you didn’t,” she says. “When I saw you and Belle in the bookstore, I thought, well, he’s forgotten all about you.”

“I definitely did not,” he replies. “I couldn’t. I thought about you too, all year.”

“Really?”

“Oh, aye.” He attempts a smile. “Every day.”

Her eyes are liquid soft and their expression makes his blood hum. “I don’t want to go through that again next year,” she says. “I want to… to see you, and not—not just as a friend.”

“Emma—”

“And don’t say you’re too old! I know that’s what you’re going to say.”

“It is true.”

“It’s not. You can’t be more than what, thirty-four, thirty-five?”

“Thirty-five.”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“That’s—”

“But I don’t care about that, Killian. I like your silver hair and that you’ve had experience of the world. Sometimes I feel like I missed out on so much, getting pregnant so young and since then my whole life has been Henry and trying to get through college. And now I have all this money and I know there’s so much I can do with it, and places I can go, but I don’t really know where to start.”

“Love—”

“Not that I want you to be a tour guide or like an adviser or something, I want—fuck, I’m making a mess of this.”

Killian realises he’s holding his breath, forces himself to exhale and draw in fresh air. “Emma,” he says firmly, “there’s nothing I’d like more than to have a place in your life, and Henry’s, in whatever capacity you wish.”

“Whatever capacity?”

“Aye.”

“So if I said I wanted you to be my—” she takes a deep breath—“my date for a New Year’s Eve party I’m invited to, you’d agree?”

“It would be my honour.”

“And then if I asked you out to dinner?” she continues. “My treat.”

He laughs. “I know a restaurant I think you’d love.”

“And afterwards? If I invited you back here for some coffee?”

“You do make excellent coffee, I don’t think I could refuse.”

“Then if I wanted to go out again, someplace else?”

“You could choose the restaurant, and I would pay.”

“Then maybe a movie sometime?”

“At the old cinema near the bookshop.”

“And what— what if, after a little while, I wanted to have coffee again in the morning? You’d—you’d stay and have that second cup with me?”

“I would love nothing more.”

She nods. “That’s the capacity I wish.”

She’s so close now that he can count the flecks of gold in her eyes and he realises that her hand is on his thigh and his is on her hip, and then she closes the remaining distance between them and kisses him. He moans and pulls her closer, his other hand tangling in her hair as hers curls around his neck and he loses himself in the taste of chocolate and cinnamon on her tongue and the promise of her lips on his. The promise of a future, their future, together.

There’s a clattering noise of footsteps and loud voices on the stairs and they break apart. Killian leans his forehead against Emma’s, revelling in the sight of her dazed and happy smile, and silently thanks Belle for her discretion. Emma stands and pulls him to his feet, and when Henry and Belle appear she beams at them both.

“I think dinner’s nearly ready,” she says. “Henry, let’s go set the table.”

Belle gives Killian a smirk that’s thoroughly ruined by the delight dancing in her eyes. “You look happy,” she says. “And a bit shell-shocked.”

“Aye, to both those things.”

“And you appear to be wearing lipstick,” she teases, handing him a tissue and grinning at his blush. He wipes his mouth and when he offers it back to her she takes his hand as well.

“I’m so glad for you,” she says. “Merry Christmas, Killian. The first of many, I think.”

Killian looks into the dining room where Emma and Henry are laughing as he sets the table and she lays the food out on it. “Aye,” he says gruffly. “I think it will be. I hope.”

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #christmas fic #christmas magic #healing #in mind and body and soul #captains swan #captain book #captain cobra #captain cobra swan #there may be a kiss #to keep it all the year #profdanglaisstuff

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fuckyeahjerlita · 4 years ago

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Code Lyoko Fanfic - Memories Buried in the Snow - Chapter 2 - Memories of Long Ago

The memories the old house contains call out to Aelita. An old box hidden in a closet may contain the final answers she’s been seeking.

He followed the GPS for the rest of the drive, turning where he must… until at last, it sprung into sight: a large wooden chalet, flanked by pines and banked in snow. The house was two stories tall with stairs and a long balcony on the second story.

At the sight of the house, Aelita stirred for the first time since they had switched places. She leaned forward and stared at that building, as one in a thrall.

“Here we are. Kind of a pretty place, isn’t it?” smiled Jeremie, by way of lightening the strange atmosphere.

Without acknowledging her husband, Aelita unbuckled, opened the door and exited the car. She stood in the falling snow, looking all around her, taking everything in. Then, she began walking slowly forward.

“Aelita!” Jeremie called, deeply troubled by his wife’s strange behavior.

He quickly killed the engine and got out to follow her. He watched as Aelita walked up to the chalet’s front door, fished out the key they had been sent, and opened it. Jeremie ran to catch up with her, cursing the deep snow with each step. Finally, he made it through the front door,, shutting and locking it behind him, cutting out the cold of the outdoors.

The inside was a cheerful atmosphere, well furnished with all the creature comforts, yet unmistakably rustic.

Jeremie tried the light switch and thankfully, the overhead light came on.

"I'll make a fire!" he announced by way of dissipating the lingering weirdness in the atmosphere.

Aelita continued to be remote as she walked slowly away without acknowledging Jeremie, as though she were being lured in by the house itself.

‘Like at the Hermitage,’ Jeremie thought vaguely.

He watched after Aelita, but decided to leave her be, for now. She would come to him when she was ready, as she always did. For now, Jeremie concentrated on putting the logs into the fire, then lighting the match. Soon, he had a fire going to chase away the lingering cold.

Aelita walked slowly through the house. With each look at a room, flashes came to her in more rapid succession and with trebled clarity. Though the furnishings were different, the rooms themselves had changed but little. She mounted the stairs slowly, but with purpose. At the end of the hall on the right, was a door, which opened to reveal a small bedroom.

Aelita blinked and suddenly, it was transformed into a child’s room with light pink walls and curtains covering the windows, filled with a little girl's toys: stuffed animals, a few dolls, books, and a small bed with a pink blanket and pillow. Aelita blinked her eyes and the room was back to its present state. Closing the door, she left the room to itself.

Across the hall, another door opened to reveal the larger master bedroom. Aelita blinked and saw the bed and furnishings that had been forgotten to her for almost 20 years. Lying in the bed were a man with a gray mustache and a woman with pink hair and green irises like her own. The woman looked over at her and smiled.

Aelita blinked and the room was empty again. Tears blurred her vision and her throat tightened up, her breath hitching out in a strangled sob. Guided by some unexplained compulsion, she stepped into the room and made a beeline for the closet, whose door she wrenched open with nearly enough force to pull it from its hinges. Through the veil of tears, she looked… until she saw it, a small cut-out in the farthest back corner of the closet.

Kneeling, Aelita pulled at the bit of wall that stood between her and what she was after. It gave way easily enough, revealing a small box ensconced in the wall for over 20 years. She pulled the box out and removed the lid.

Inside were many old papers, cards, and most importantly… photos of either the bespectacled man or the pink haired woman, each taken by the other. The final one she saw was the man and woman posing with each other for a timed shot before the cabin, the woman’s hands caressing her swollen belly, a small contented smile upon her face.

Aelita let the photos slip unheeded to the floor as a fresh wave of emotion broke over her. She lowered her head and sobbed brokenly into her hands, her entire frame shaking with each hitching, broken breath she took.

Through her haze of agony, she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her. Didn’t realize she was no longer alone until she felt those gentle, familiar arms encircle her from behind. She turned, wrapped her arms around Jeremie’s waist and began sobbing with abandon into his sweatshirt while he held her close.

Poor Jeremie was utterly taken aback by Aelita’s present state. He had seen her in the throes of her melancholies and had held her when she cried many times throughout their relationship, but not since finding out of her mother’s death years ago had she broken down this completely.

Closing his eyes on his own tears, Jeremie rested his chin on the crown of Aelita’s head as he began gently rubbing her back and stroking her thick, soft hair with both hands, familiar gestures that he knew would soothe her… eventually. This was going to take a while.

Jeremie remained silent as he held Aelita close and continued his gentle ministrations on her. His heart mulled a thousand questions, but now was neither the time nor the place for them. The only thing that mattered was comforting Aelita through whatever was distressing her.

Finally, after an indeterminate length of time, Jeremie felt the tension begin to drain out of Aelita’s body. Her sobs grew fewer and farther between and her grip around his waist slackened. Finally, he felt her go completely limp in his arms, breath soft and even in sleep, utterly spent.

Only now did Jeremie dare try to take stock of things. She had been acting strangely distant practically since their arrival in Switzerland. With each passing mile toward this chalet, the strangeness of her behavior had grown, until reaching the crescendo they had just endured. When he looked down at the floor, Jeremie saw the pictures lying in careless disarray around the small box.

Moving slowly and carefully, he picked them up and looked through them. He immediately recognized the mustachioed and bespectacled visage of Franz Hopper staring at him from out of the pictures. And the pink haired woman with the familiar emerald irises was unmistakable!

‘Franz and Anthea Hopper!’ he thought. ‘Oh, my god! I don’t believe in fate or anything like that, but somehow… Poor Aelita…’

Moving slowly and carefully, Jeremie shifted their positions so that he was able to pick Aelita up in his arms bridal style, then rose to his feet. Fortunately, Aelita was tiny and very light, so he was able to do so without throwing out his back. Jeremie carried Aelita over to the large bed and gently deposited her upon the mattress.

Jeremie began the careful process of undressing Aelita so she could sleep more comfortably. He moved slowly and carefully as he worked. This proved unnecessary though, as she never stirred, even as Jeremie manipulated her limbs.

‘Wow! She’s totally out,’ he thought worriedly. ‘I just hope she’ll be OK. My poor angel…’

Jeremie covered Aelita in the thick blanket to let her sleep and hopefully recover. This done, he returned to the closet and put all the photos and papers back into the small box. He then picked up the box and brought it over to the bedside table. This was Aelita’s and she should be the one to decide what to do with it.

Finally, he stepped out of his boots and stretched out next to his sleeping princess. Jeremie pulled the blanket over both of them, then wrapped Aelita up in a protective embrace. He then shut his eyes and let his mind drift.

Dreams of days gone by arose unbidden before their minds.

Aelita dreamed of running about in the forest behind the house, of her parents’ admonitions never to wander too far away. Red deer peeked out from among the trees at her. Squirrels peered curiously from their holes.

Snow came and with it, scratching out snow angels in its depths, rolling balls to make snowmen, drinking hot cocoa inside in the evenings. There was a large pine tree decorated with various bulbs and lights with festively wrapped packages at its base.

“Oh, he’s so cute! I love him. What should I call him?”

“How about Mister Puck, which means ‘elf’.”

“Do you like him?”

“Oh, yes! Thank you, Mommy!”

Meanwhile, Jeremie dreamed of switching on a computer in an ancient factory and being gobsmacked by the sight of a delicate looking young woman with bewitching pink hair staring back at him from out of the screen. From almost that moment, he knew he must do everything he could to have her by his side and in his arms.

The scanner opened and there she lay, innocent and fragile as a newborn lamb. Her eyes opened, revealing bright, intelligent, yet entirely guileless green irises as she smiled up at him, face to face for the first time in this world.

She lay on the cold steel floor of the computer room with the silent machine looming over her. He had to be quick! The machine roared back to life and he pulled her into his arms, praying to the universe that he wasn’t too late.

“Aelita! Answer me! C’mon! Wake up!”

When her pain fogged eyes opened and she took a hitching breath, he held her close and choked back a sob.

“You’re insane! Why did you do that?!”

“To save the world… To save you all…” she managed to gasp out.

“We’ll save it together. Then you’ll have your whole life in front of you; a brand new life!”

“Noooo!” Jeremie cried, watching helplessly as the Scyphozoa drained the last of Aelita’s life from her, before dropping her carelessly to the ground. “Aelita’s deeeeaaaad!!!!”

The four could only watch as Lyoko died along with its keeper, facilitating XANA’s escape to the greater Internet. Just when all seemed lost, a glowing entity appeared, lifted Aelita into the air and restored to her what had been lost. Jeremie’s joy knew no bounds as Aelita began to move again.

He was there at the scanner to catch her as she collapsed into his arms, her humanity fully restored to her, entirely free of XANA and Lyoko.

Happy times. An angel soaring aloft on pink wings and shooting energy from her hands.

The sure and steady captain of an underwater vessel named for Freyr’s great longboat.

Sad times. A young musician not understanding why he would rather spend his days at his computer than come to her debut.

The grand battle. The life of Waldo Schaeffer faded away with the flying mantas’ lasers as he gave his last strength over to power the multiagent program his daughter was trying to launch. As Aelita watched helplessly, her father faded from existence, this time forever.

Jeremie sighed as he felt fingers caressing his head, pulling him from his dreams of long ago. His eyes opened to reveal a pair of soft green irises staring at him.

“Lita…” he asked as he watched her, uncertain of what to expect. “Are you OK? If you want, we can get another place…”

He was silenced by Aelita’s index finger, pressing against his lips. Aelita picked up the box from the nightstand and opened it. Jeremie watched her in equal parts fascination and dreadful anticipation of another emotional breakdown. Aelita glanced up at him and patted the spot right next to her. At this invitation, Jeremie snuggled up next to Aelita, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a comforting squeeze.

Grateful for Jeremie’s support, Aelita once again went through the box’s contents: all the old photos, love letters and other assorted papers. Many times, Aelita would feel her emotions beginning to break again and would need to stop and rest in Jeremie’s arms for a bit before she could start again.

As they did this, Jeremie found himself getting to know Waldo and Anthea Schaeffer in a way he would’ve never thought possible. Their photos and letters were truly windows into the world of their departed souls. The best of all were Anthea’s old diaries, full of love for Waldo, and later on for baby “Lita”. Details of her first time crawling, first steps, and first words filled the pages, causing Aelita to tear up and Jeremie to smile at the thought of Aelita as a tiny child.

“Your mom was so pretty,” Jeremie noted. “I totally see where you got your looks from.”

Aelita fixed Jeremie with a sad smile at that compliment.

When everything had been gone through and put away, Aelita lay still in Jeremie’s arms, face damp with tears, but her lips quirked up in a small smile that gave Jeremie hope after a day spent worrying about her emotional state.

“I’ve come home,” she said, the words barely more than a whisper.

“I was never a believer in fate, but of all the chalets in Switzerland…” Jeremie began.

He was silenced by Aelita’s lips suddenly crashing into his. Jeremie’s eyes widened at this unexpected display of affection, but he recovered quickly and eagerly returned it, wrapping his arms around her waist.

The next few hours were spent in the passion of their gentle and drawn-out lovemaking. Feelings were exchanged physically, vows of devotion, protection, and cooperation were renewed on a spiritual level. When they reached their completion, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, intertwined until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

The two remained thus for the rest of the night, drifting in and out of consciousness, dreaming of their future together under sunny blue skies, with gentle breezes at their backs and soft grass under their feet; the silent contentment of being together, surrounded by the memories of a distant past.

#code lyoko #jerlita #fanfiction #aelita schaeffer #jeremie belpois

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timeagainreviews · 5 years ago

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The Filler Fluff of the Cybermen

When is a two-parter not a two-parter? When the first part is tonight’s episode "Ascension of the Cybermen." As stories go, that was pretty damn sparse. I’ll be honest, friends, I don’t have a lot to say about tonight’s story. But that’s not why you come here, so I will try my damnedest to find something to talk about in this latest episode of Doctor Who. Right, now, how many words was that? Sixty-seven? Christ. This is going to be a slog.

I honestly shouldn’t be surprised. It had to happen. I was saying just last week that I hadn’t seen an episode I outright hated so far this series. We were due. That’s not to say I actually feel hate for this episode, more accurately, I feel very little about this episode. Usually, I endeavour to do more than simply trash an episode, but tonight, it’s either that, or I end the review here. So apologies ahead of time.

The episode opens on a Cyberman head floating in space with some knucklehead voiceover telling us about how the Cybermen have been mostly wiped out and what remains of humanity isn’t much better. The episode will now spend the next fifty minutes reiterating this point ad nausea. It was like a Star Wars title crawl, except in Star Wars, the crawl isn’t the plot of the movie you’re about to watch. Funnily, a lot of tonight’s episode reminded me of "The Last Jedi." Our heroes get split up. A slow chase ensues. No new information is gained. And it ends leaving us feeling like not a lot happened.

The Doctor and her companions come to a small human colony in the distant future. There are only seven of them left. The Doctor sets up a series of relays to help this ragtag bunch of humans kill off an oncoming Cyberman attack. Only thing is, they had never accounted for the Cybermen to first send out "Cyber Drones." Now, say you’ve got a room full of artists who love Doctor Who. And you tell them all to design drones that will be utilised by Cybermen. You can imagine they might have some rather impressive designs. Now, gather up all of those beautiful and creative drawings into your arms and throw them in the bin. Instead, we’re going to just use floating Cyberman heads. Was this because Chibnall is the kind of guy who thinks a dude with teeth pressed into his face is creepy or is this because reusing Cyberman heads is cheap? I’ll let you decide.

The Cyberheads and their eye lasers do quick work of the Doctor’s relays and sends everyone scattering to the wind. With three of the humans dead, Ryan, a young boy named Ethan, and the Doctor get left behind. Yaz and Graham, find themselves aboard a rickety gravraft with the remainder of the humans. With the TARDIS too far away, the Doctor decides they need to hijack a Cybership. I gotta give it to the Cybermen, they take better care of their ship than they do their own bodies. It’s almost as if there was no continuity in the design. Or maybe it’s like when you see someone whose life is a total mess but they have a dope car. I’ll let you decide.

After Ethan hotwires the Cybership, the Doctor pilots the ship to the most logical destination- her TARDIS. No, I’m just kidding, that would have made sense! Instead, she goes somewhere. I just double-checked with my boyfriend and we honestly couldn’t remember why anyone was doing anything at this point in the episode. After combing the episode I finally found a bit of throwaway dialogue where Ethan programmed the ship to go to a place called "Ko Sharmus." Meanwhile, the other group of protagonists are floating listlessly in space, making them the most relatable characters in this episode as that’s exactly how I felt.

By now you’re probably wondering why I haven’t gotten to the B-story happening in this episode. I guess here is as good a place as any, as it made just as much sense crammed anywhere in the episode it pleased. We see a young man and woman find a baby. This baby grows up to be their adopted son, Brendan. Brendan becomes a cop. Brendan gets shot and falls off a cliff. Brendan wakes up unscathed. Brendan’s dad looks at him like he’s creepy. Brendan grows old and retires. Brendan’s dad and boss, seemingly having not aged, wipe his memory. It makes as much sense as a wicker toilet and gives us no new information. At one point I thought he may have been Captain Jack’s kid, but then he grows old, so I don’t know what to think. What I do know is that you could have edited it down and made it into a far better cold opener than that Cyberhead floating in space shit.

The humans aboard the gravraft get stranded next to a giant Cyberman ship where a battle has gone down. Remnants of Cybermen ping the hull of their vessel like tiny asteroids. They get the bright idea to use the airlock to give the gravraft an extra thrust into the Cybership. I don’t know if it was intentional, but having Graham say "Don’t panic," right before they release the airlock was a nice little Douglas Adams reference. Or maybe it wasn’t at all, but I’ll take any joy from this episode I can get. Much like the idiotic hip bounce from "Can You Hear Me?" that knocked the sonic screwdriver up into the Doctor’s hands, the gravraft makes a million in one shot directly into the Cyberman ship’s docking bay. If they have that kind of luck sinking shots like that, they should really take their skills to the minigolf course.

The second I saw the ship, I knew that they were going to do the rows upon rows of sleeping Cybermen emerging from their tombs. It’s a Doctor Who trope as old as the Patrick Troughton era. My boyfriend was enjoying these bits as he is less familiar with the history of Doctor Who, so I let him have his fleeting enjoyment. I couldn’t even get jazzed about the new Cyberman design as they had already spoiled it with online photos. Basically, aside from the head-scratching B-story, the plot to tonight’s episode could be gathered by looking at promotional photos. There were new Cybermen. The Lone Cyberman was there. Nothing new to be learned here. Though, I will admit those new Cybermen are genuinely awesome.

The Doctor has a brief encounter with a hologram of the Lone Cyberman, or "Ashad." We learn that Ashad doesn’t just want to destroy all humans, he wants to destroy all life in the universe, for reasons. So I guess it wasn’t all a wash. Ashad heads to the Cybership where he begins waking up the Cybermen by what looks like torture. I have absolutely zero idea why he was doing what he was doing. It’s not at all made clear. Was he giving a titty twister so the Cybermen would accept him as their leader? Because after waking up the rest of them, they all seem to fall in line. Honestly, what the hell was he doing to that Cyberman? It makes no goddamn sense.

One thing I will say that made me happy was that one of my predictions from before episode one came true. They gave Graham a bit of a love interest. I called that shit. This possible love interest came in the form of Ravio, one of the human colonists. I found it rather amusing that in the future humans would still speak with British accents but have lost all context for Cockney rhyming slang. It was a cute bit of dialogue that falls apart if you think about it too much. The Cybermen force the humans into a corner to barricade themselves from the onslaught of Cybermen, and that’s where they’re left until next weekend.

Meanwhile, the Doctor arrives at Ko Sharmus which ends up being a person’s name as opposed to a planet. Chris Chibnall’s ability to name characters has not improved. Seriously, there are characters named Feekat and Yedlarmi in this episode. It hardly matters though as they’re all rather forgettable. I had to comb the episode and the internet just to figure out who was who. The Doctor never even introduces herself to Ethan. I had to figure his name out through one of the many throwaway lines of dialogue. That’s not to say that they don’t have real bits of character development. But you can take all of the character development in the world and wrap it around a hollow plot and it equals a lot of me not giving a shit.

Ko Sharmus was a welcome addition, simply because he was played by the charismatic Ian McElhinney. Turns out he’s a human colonist who stays behind in case any more humans might one day also come to this planet. There’s a sort of gateway or “boundary” out of the galaxy where many humans have gone to escape pursuit by Cyberman. Ko Sharmus’ job is to act as a guide to any possible newcomers also looking to reach said boundary. However, the Doctor quickly learns that the boundary is actually a gateway to Gallifrey. Only now it shows Gallifrey as the Master left it- in ruins.

Did I mention the Master? Well, here he is, making a "grand" entrance. The only thing at this point that was grand about the introduction of the Master to the story was that I was excited that something of substance was actually about to happen. Instead, this is our cliffhanger- this not at all surprising reveal that the Master is still alive. Of course, he is, he’s the Master. It’s a season finale with the Cybermen, of course, the Master is going to be there. It’s been that way for the past two Cyberman season finales. I guess the third time is a charm? What about any of this is supposed to be surprising? Remember how I said I was afraid they were becoming far too reliant on big reveals? This ending is the epitome of that. I think they expected to blow our minds by having the storyline they set up at the beginning of the series come into fruition. Try harder Chibs, this shit was weak.

The biggest shocker here is how little happened. What we were left with was akin to a classic filler episode where the Doctor gets captured. They padded out everything because they didn’t want next week’s episode to be ten minutes longer. Tonight’s episode exists purely because Chris Chibnall couldn’t edit down the script of a single episode into something shorter. This wouldn’t be so egregious if at least one storyline came to some sort of conclusion. If the B-story with Brendan had gone somewhere it might have made the entire episode feel somewhat worth the time and effort. Instead, we’re forced to watch a team of talented actors fill time.

I can’t help but feel like last week’s episode should have been this week’s episode with maybe a bit more setup for the finale. In place of this forgettable fluff, we could have gotten a single contained episode in its place. Something that had a beginning, middle, and end. Because of this, it’s almost as if we’ve been shorted an episode. Because of all of the wasted time in "Ascension of the Cybermen," I can only think of two outcomes for next week. One is an episode crammed so full of exposition that it will feel messy and disjointed. The other is an episode that is as equally underwhelming as tonight’s effort. Do you really mean to tell me they’re going to fit a Cyberman battle, Captain Jack, the Master, Gallifrey, the Timeless Child, and possibly Ruth into an episode and it not be a mess? It’s hard to have faith that there is a reason behind this much wasted screentime. I could use some of Graham’s optimism because at this moment it’s looking a bit hopeless.

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thewritewolf · 5 years ago

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The Search for Halloween Chapter 1: Ornament+Harvest

Hello and welcome to my entry for Unusual October! I was motivated to do this in part because I recently reached 500 followers, so thank all of you for joining me!

I won’t be doing all 31 prompts, but instead have chosen eight of my favorites to form into one story. I’ve also collab’d with my wonderful and talented beta, @noanieactuallydrawingalot! We’ve worked together on each of these chapters, with me writing it and her providing adorable art. Without further ado... the summary:

Halloween isn't a major holiday in France, but that hasn't made the gang any less curious about the traditions of this spooky festival. So when the opportunity comes up to do a school project over one foreign holiday, Alya, Adrien, Nino, and Marinette jump at the chance. Join them as they try to discover for themselves the true meaning of Halloween!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 (Final)

Enjoy!

@unusual-october

Read on Ao3

My ko-fi

The art of this chapter

Class was a blur as Marinette stared doe-eyed at the back of her boyfriend’s head. Everything had happened so quickly and she was still trying to take it all in. Adrien and Chat Noir being the same person was a shock, but not nearly as much of a surprise as the realization that came immediately afterwards. That if Adrien was Chat Noir and Chat Noir was in love with Ladybug and Ladybug was her…

...Adrien loved her.

A dreamy giggle escaped her, causing a tittering of laughter from her nearest classmates. Ms Bustier glanced over her shoulder, but everybody had quickly switched to a mask of seriousness. A little hesitantly, she returned her attention to the board, letting Marinette continue her daydream.

Naturally, she and Adrien were… something… now. Wait. Were they dating? Her eyes widened and she gasped when she realized neither of them had really asked the other out yet. Sure, they were closer than ever, but aside from some hand holding and longing looks… nothing much had really changed? They definitely hadn’t kissed yet.

Before Marinette could spiral further, Alya elbowed her. When Marinette looked her way, Alya nodded her head towards the front of the classroom, just in time for Ms Bustier to turn around with a big smile on her face. Behind her, written in big letters, was ‘Holidays from Around the World,’ with a bunch of names (presumably of holidays) written below it. Some she recognized, but most were obscure.

“Now, as I mentioned earlier, you’ll be breaking up into groups of four.” Ms Bustier passed worksheets down the rows. “You will be filling in the boxes with various ways that your chosen holiday is celebrated.” She returned to her desk at the front of the room and leaned back against it. “I’ll give you the remainder of our class time to choose your groups as well as decide on your holiday.”

Without further prompting, the room was filled with the noise of backpacks being picked up and papers being gathered. Marinette’s group had it the easiest - their boys simply turned around. Her heart did a little backflip at Adrien’s bright smile as he looked up at them. Or, more specifically, at her.

“So, dudes, what holiday were we thinking?” Nino adjusted his cap as he placed an arm on the back of his seat. “I don’t have any preferences, so I’m down for whatever, dudes.”

Alya smirked. “What do you guys know about American-style Halloween?”

Marinette shrugged. “Um… there’s candy and pumpkins involved? And…” She frowned. “...Scary movies and stuff.”

Meanwhile Adrien’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Oh, wow! I know tons of stuff. I always see it pop up on the Internet, but I’ve never got to try any of it, ‘cause, well…”

“Your father,” Nino supplied. His eyes had narrowed slightly before returning to normal.

“Right!” Adrien looked toward Alya. “Did you want to do Halloween, then?”

“Well, ‘tis the season, yeah? October just started, so we’ve already got a leg up over the others. It shouldn’t be too hard to get the stuff we need, or find ways to get the real Halloween experience.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “We’re going to find the Halloween spirit!”

Biting down a laugh, Alya replied, “Sure, sunshine. And I think I know just how to start…”

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

After classes were done for the day, they all agreed to meet up at Marinette’s place later, after Adrien’s fencing practice. Alya disappeared with Nino in tow, refusing to explain what they’d even be doing for the day. The only thing she’d let slip was that they were going to need some knives and table space.

Both of which were pretty easy to obtain. This late in the day, the cooking was already winding down at the bakery. All Marinette had needed to do was some cleaning to have enough space for all four of them. Knives were a little harder, but not by much. Just because they were bakers first and foremost didn’t mean that was all they cooked.

Knowing Alya, whose tendency for over the top plans was only rivaled by Marinette’s own, Marinette opted to get a bunch of towels ready too. And after a moment’s thought, a bucket of water.

Once all that was set up, she heard the door to the bakery open and Adrien’s voice as he talked to her parents. Her heart fluttered again, but she pushed it down as she left the kitchen. “Thank you both so much! This is delicious.” Adrien nearly walked into her as he turned the corner. He had been looking over his shoulder while clutching a chocolate croissant. “Oh! Sorry, Mari.” He gave her that familiar look that she’d always caught Chat Noir giving Ladybug. He tore a piece off his croissant. “Want some?”

She laughed. “Sunshine, I live here. I can have some whenever I want.”

He still held out the piece.

Her resolve weakened as she took it before shoving it into her mouth. “Not a word.” She motioned for him to follow as she took him into the living room. “Up for some Mecha Strike?”

The answer was, of course, yes. After an hour of gaming, the door to the bakery opened again and she recognized Alya and Nino’s voices. By the time they’d finished their last match and headed into the kitchen, the two of them had already set their paper bags on the kitchen counter. There was a manic glint in Alya’s eyes.

“Wanna try to guess what I’ve got in these bags, M?”

Marinette glanced between the tall, heavy bags and the knives. “Um… Pumpkin carving?”

Alya deflated a little. “Well ...Yes. You got that too fast.” She brushed it away. “Anyway, I’ve got four fresh pumpkins, some candles, and some cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon?” Adrien asked as Alya passed him one of the pumpkins, which he then handed off to Marinette.

“The internet told me it makes them smell nice,” Alya said with a shrug. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Once they all had pumpkins in front of them and knives in hand, there was a general air of confusion. Alya frowned as she turned hers around. Nino tapped at his, his ear pressed to the side. Adrien glanced between his knife and his pumpkin, biting his lip nervously.

A smile flickered on Marinette’s face. “Do you guys want me to go get my markers?”

“Yes!”

“Thanks, girl.”

“Totally.”

With the pumpkins marked, they started carving. They didn’t get far before Adrien remembered they were supposed to empty the pumpkins first.

“Shoot,” Alya said. “I should’ve picked up some scoopy things while I was out.”

“What? No! Tearing out the pumpkin guts is part of the Halloween spirit,” Adrien said as he rolled up his sleeves and stuck his hand inside. His eyes widened as he pulled it out, glistening wet, orange… pulp clenched in his fist.

Marinette rushed to place some paper towels down. “I think we’re supposed to save the seeds…?”

Adrien slowly nodded. “That sounds right.”

After that, they each started working at their own pace, completely entranced with their designs. Marinette had chosen a smaller knife so she could do some precision work, but despite the extra detail her diligence allowed her to keep up with the others.

More than a few times, she caught Adrien trying to steal glances at her pumpkin. She stuck her tongue out at him and put herself between him and the art piece in progress. He huffed in mock irritation and got back to his own piece.

An hour passed before they spoke.

“Alright, guys,” Alya said, washing her hands off at the sink. “Let’s see what everybody’s got. M?”

Marinette turned her pumpkin towards the others. She’d decided to do a cat’s face with carved whiskers and ears. Just as she’d hoped, Adrien blushed as he looked at it,a soft smile on his lips as his eyes crept up to hers.

“Nice job! What about you, sunshine?” No response. Alya snapped her fingers near his face. “Hey, centerfold! You still there?”

“Huh? Oh!” Adrien quickly took the towel off his pumpkin. As jack o’lanterns went, it was pretty basic. At least, from Marinette’s limited experience. Triangle nose and eyes, big toothy grin. He’d made the teeth ‘sharp’ by turning them into triangles too. “It’s a vampire pumpkin!’ He picked it up and shoved it in her face. “Bleh!” Giggling, she batted him away.

“Whoa, dudes. Save the flirting for later,” Nino said with a knowing smirk. Immediately, both of them broke into deep blushes.

“Aww, babe, you embarrassed them. And, more importantly, you did it before I could take a picture.” Alya smacked her boyfriend on the arm playfully. “Well, I guess it’s my turn now.”

She took off the towel, revealing a classic wavy ghost flailing its arms. Marinette’s eyebrows shot up as she realized just how many squiggly lines made up the specter.

“How’d you get all those curved lines? I was struggling just with the few that I had…”

Adrien quickly nodded. “Yeah, that’s why I got stuck doing a bunch of straight lines.”

Alya leaned against her pumpkin with a smile. “Trade secrets.” She turned to Nino. “What about you, babe? What’ve you got for us?”

“You dudes ready for this?” At their nods, he quickly yanked off the cover. Underneath… was a normal pumpkin. Yeah, the top was cut off, but so was everybody else’s. Alya gave him an unimpressed look. “Wait! It’s still missing something.”

“Yeah, you bet it is,” Alya grumbled. “Everything.”

Ignoring her, Nino took off his cap and placed it on the pumpkin. “Perfection, my dudes. It’s Nino Junior!” Adrien snickered, which he deftly turned to a cough when Alya turned around to glare at him.

“Well… this was mostly a good start,” Alya said with a pointed look at Nino’s pumpkin, but her facade was breaking down as smile threatened to spread across her face. “I think I’m looking forward to this whole Halloween thing.”

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #Alya Cesaire #Nino Lahiffe #DJ Wifi #Caline Bustier #Unusual October #ml fanfiction #my writing #The Search for Halloween

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yoongi-sugaglider · 5 years ago

Text

Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, possible future main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count:2586

Part 4 === Part 5 === Part 6

The hall erupted into chaos.

Jungkook and Jin immediately bolted for the basement, shoving through the door and disappearing downstairs as Namjoon and Taehyung began yelling at top volume at Yoongi.

“Why the fuck didn’t you say something sooner??”

“How the hell could you keep something like this from us??”

“BOYS!” I had to scream to get them to shut up but the effect was instant.

The three men turned to look at me, two of them with glares that would have sent a normal person cowering but the third just looked ashamed and terrified.

“Seriously? An outsider would think the three of you were children and not hardened criminals.” I frowned, arms crossed over my chest as I glared daggers into them.

“Now. Does this woman being pregnant change anything?”

The three men looked at each other before shrugging and turning back to me.

“The answer is no geniuses. Jungkook is going to stop Jimin and Hoseok.” I shook my head, shooting the basement door a quick nervous glance.

“I doubt the woman is a plant. Not with everything going on out there, those East side idiots don’t have the brains to plan something like that in advance. And she doesn’t exactly look like any of our other customers so I’m confident we’re alright on that front.”

“How can you know that though?” Taehyung demanded, his voice harsh as he spat the words at me.

“I’ve been in this since well before you came here.” I flashed him a look and he backed up a step.

“This shit don’t run without me and my instincts. So if you want to start questioning me and my feelings now you can just fuck off and dip. Go try to survive with those fucked up ass creatures outside.”

Taehyung paled instantly, shaking his head and raising his arms in surrender. “N..no fuck that. I’m staying my ass right the fuck here.”

“Well then, get to trusting me fuck head.”

Tae nodded and Namjoon did as well. Yoongi’d remained silent, head down for the most part as he listened to the argument.

“They’re not wrong though. I should have found a way to tell ya’ll sooner. It’s just…”

“Oh fuck off Yoongi.” His head jerked up as he stared at me in surprise.

“You did the best you fucking could, considering the circumstances. So Mister military sniper boy, get your shit together. And the lot of you need to get back to doing your jobs!”

They snapped to attention, eyes hardened as they waited for their orders.

“Tae, we need to get to figuring out who or what hacked our system. Is there anything you need from me or can you handle that?”

Tae shook his head. “Nah, I just need to figure out how they connected to us without internet services because as far as I know everything outside of local military is all shut down.”

Waving my hand in dismissal I turned to Yoongi and Namjoon. “Alright, the biggest thing that little incident showed us is that we need to secure the windows on the lower levels. Stay together, but got those windows boarded up.”

“I think there’s some 5x9 boards in the shed. Should be enough to get most of them taken care of.” Namjoon tilted his head, calculating the amount of supplies he would need.

Yoongi huffed a sigh, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. “Worse comes to worse we can pull some of the boards off the fences out by the road, but we’re gonna have to be quiet about it.”

I smiled, patting each of them on the shoulder. “You boys got this. I trust you more than my own blood family. Now go on, get to work.”

The three saluted me, jogging off to their respective tasks as I turned back to the basement door.

***

The stairway down to the basement was quiet. I heaved a sigh as I made my way to the infirmary, rolling some of the tension out of my shoulders as I pushed open the door.

Hoseok and Jin stood off to the side of the door, arguing over the situation as Jungkook and Jimin helped the young woman sit up on the bed.

It seemed that Hoseok has already begun working on her. A dark bruise blossomed on her cheek and a small cut had split her lower lip, spilling bright crimson blood down the front of her hospital gown.

I shook my head, watching as Hoseok growled at Jin.

“I was doing my fucking job. How the ever loving fuck was I supposed to know the bitch was pregnant.”

“Doesn’t matter if she was pregnant or not, Jungkook ordered you to fucking stop and you just had to go and hit her one more fucking time.” Jin shoved the younger man into the wall to which Hoseok raised his fist as if about to retaliate.

“Boys…” My tone was quiet and all of the activity in the room ground to a halt.

“I think there’s been enough fighting tonight. Don’t you think so Hoseok?” I sent him a small smile and he slowly lowered his fist, allowing it to fall limply to his side.

“I was just doing my job…” The formerly aggressive man seemed to turn inward on himself, pouting for having been scolded in his duties.

Jeanette meanwhile, having been helped to her feet, managed to push past Jimin in order to face Hoseok.

I watched, eyes squinted as she took his hand and tugged on it to get him to look her in the eyes.

“I understand. Just like I get it that none of you trust me. I AM an outsider after all, and my having different skin color and an accent doesn’t help.” She smiled kindly, small dimples showing in the lower corners of her lips as she gave Hoseok’s hand a reassuring pat. “Thank you for worrying, and for doing what you had to to protect your family.”

Hoseok stared at her for a moment, bewilderment showing in his eyes before he returned her smile in kind. “I uh...I’m sorry for hitting you.”

She shook her head, a silent laugh poised to fall as she turned to us all. “I get it, really I do. I’m from a pretty rough neighborhood back home. I know how things run and I wouldn’t have it any other way knowing that my baby and I are safe here.”

Jungkook sighed, carding a hand through the hair swept over his forehead as he gave each of us a serious look. “Now that that’s all out of the way, we really need to get back to securing the base.” He turned to me, hard exterior softening as he reached his hand out to me.

I took it gratefully, allowing him to pull me close as he brushed a feather light kiss against my temple. I hummed in satisfaction, giving him a sincere smile.

“I’ve got the boys upstairs looking for ways to board up the windows. Tae is still working on the security breach as well.”

He nodded his thanks, knowing he could leave things in my hands when shit hit the fan and his attention was drawn elsewhere.

“Alright. We’re gonna head up there and help them out. Doc, see to that busted lip for me and then give her a full checkup. Make sure that baby is alright.”

I could see the way he struggled to suppress a flinch at the word and I squeezed his hand in comfort while giving him the sweetest smile I could muster.

“Go.Take care of business. I’ll stay here with Jimin and Jeanette.”

He huffed, uncertainty evident in the trembling of his hands as he cupped my cheek gently between calloused palms. “Are you sure love? You don’t have to if you don’t want to…”

“I’m sure Kook. Go on, I’ve got this.” I turned my head, kissing his palm before shooing him out the door with the others.

A soft giggle caught my attention, causing me to turn to the woman perched against the edge of the medical table.

“You two remind me of my husband and I when we first got together.” Her second giggle didn’t hide the pain reflected in her eyes. I moved forward, taking her hands in mine as I watched a single tear trace down the curve of her cheek.

“I am so sorry Jeanette…” I whispered, knowing nothing I could ever say would erase the pain she was feeling.

“Now, now. Don’t go blaming yourself for what’s happened to me.” Her motherly tone didn’t go unnoticed and I smirked when Jimin chuckled at my expense.

“I’m sorry Nonna. But she’s right.None of this is your fault.” He moved forward, pressure cuff in hand as he motioned to Jeanette to return to her place atop the table. “Mind if I get your blood pressure and the baby’s heart rate?”

Jeanette tilted her head, a look of confusion crossing her features as she moved to comply with Jimin’s request.

“The baby’s heart rate? Is that possible without an ultrasound machine?”

Jimin smiled proudly as I answered for him. “Aish, those things are modern tech. Our Jiminie here is trained in all sorts of ways. Including a lot of the old ways of medicine that don’t need high-tech gadgets to get his job done.”

His blush rose quickly as he inflated the pressure bulb and moved his stethoscope to his ears while placing the cold metal disk to the crook of her elbow. “I can’t help it. The old ways worked for us for so long before modern technology took over. I always had this feeling I would need to know how to do things without the help of computers and all that in order to get the job done. Finding a heartbeat shouldn’t be a problem at all so long as my ears don’t suddenly fail me.”

Jeanette and I both giggled, causing Jimin’s eyes to almost disappear in his joy at hearing our relaxed laughs.

“Hmm..blood pressure is a little on the high side. But considering the stress you’ve been under that’s to be expected. A bit of food and proper rest should have that right down by morning.” She nodded at his words, scooting back on the table and laying down carefully when Jimin motioned for her to do so.

I couldn’t help but stare, a broken longing tugging deep at my heartstrings as I watched the gentle rise and fall of her ever so slightly rounded belly that came with her calm breaths.

“Are...are you okay?” Her question broke through my conflicting thoughts and I jolted, wiping at my tears when I realized that I’d begun crying.

“I ah..yeah..I’m fine.” I nodded in Jimin’s general direction, dismissing the look of concern carved into his normally jovial features.

“Honest, I’m alright. I just… was remembering.”

I caught the question in her eyes as Jimin announced the presence of a healthy heartbeat before helping her return to a sitting position.

“You sure?” Her words were hushed, and the concern in her eyes cracked my facade further. Mocha eyes searching my own in such a way that reminded me so much of my mother that it left my breath ragged as I struggled to control the emotions welling up deep within my chest.

“Y/n…”

I clenched my fists, allowing the pain of my nails digging into the tender flesh of my palms to return me to the present instead of the broken memories I’d tried so desperately to bury.

With a deep and healing breath I regained my smile, wiping away the last of my tears before standing up straighter.

“I’m fine. I promise. Jeanette is far more important than what I’m dealing with. Now come on Doc. Tell us what we need to make sure this baby stays safe and sound where it belongs.”

***

“What do you mean the front gate got left open?? Is that how those fuckers got in? I thought you were watching the goddamn cameras?!?!”

“It had to have happened when the system got hacked. The gate's remote controlled. I sent Namjoon hyung and Hoseok hyung out to get it fixed and the security system is back online. Look I'm sorry oka…”

“Fuck that we coulda been killed! You're supposed to be the best. You bragged about how nobody could beat you.I trusted you with our lives I trusted you with HER life!!”

I’d come back upstairs after ensuring that Jimin would set Jeanette up with as much as he could before finding a room for her to stay in. I knew that if I left the boys alone for too long words would be said and fists would fly without me there to mediate, especially with the lack of sleep they’d been experiencing. And true to form I’d arrived to the screaming match that now played out before me. I rushed in, knowing that if I didn't stop this Jungkook might actually kill poor Taehyung.

“Babe please!” I grabbed his arm, pulling it down and away from Taehyung's face. To his credit the older man hadn't flinched.

“We can't be fighting like this. There's too much death out there as it is.”

Jungkook's breath came out ragged and harsh. He wouldn't even look at me,too focused on glaring death in Taehyung's direction.

“Jungkook, my love, my sweet bunny boy.” I grabbed his face,pulling his attention to my eyes. This time Jungkook did flinch. I'm sure he could see the pain and worry in my eyes. But what had to have struck him to the core was the fear. Something I never let anyone see.

“Taehyung did the best he could. If it weren't for him we would have never known about the gate. Hobi and Joon are out there fixing it now and Tae has a handle on the security system again. Please.”

I leaned up on tiptoes and kissed his nose gently,giving him a soft smile as I came back down. “Please baby. You need some sleep. We all need sleep. It's been almost 24 hours we've been at this. Come to bed with me? I won't feel safe if you aren't there.”

It seemed to work. My desperate words finally reached him as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close as could be. I buried my face in his chest, searching for that lingering scent of peaches and sighing deeply when I caught the barest hint of it.

“Alright..no no you're right…” Jungkook shot Taehyung an apologetic look. “I'm sorry Tae. I shouldn't be taking this out on you. You did the best you could considering the world's gone full blown undead cannibal.”

I stepped away, watching in satisfaction as the two hugged it out.

“ She's right though. We should get some sleep. We're gonna head. Once Joon and Hobi get back make sure all the doors and windows are secure and then get some rest yourselves. We've all earned it.”

Tae nodded, giving me a gentle pat of thanks on the shoulder as we walked by and out of the room.

I sighed heavily as we began to make our way up to our shared bedroom. “Ugh...this day has gone on long enough...I can hear my blankets calling.”

Kookie chuckled at my remark,wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into a quick kiss once we'd reached the landing of the second floor.

“Ya know,I think I hear them too.Come on,let's shower and get some fucking sleep.”

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bluehhj · 5 years ago

Text

listen to me — chapter 41

LISTEN TO ME — 0041

listen to me masterlist;

WORDS: 2.7K

Hyoyeon, who paced the wide porch of Sooyoung's house, let out a relieved sigh when she saw a pair of headlights turn the corner. The first raindrops were beginning to stain the street, but the faint smell of wet dust hardly masked the smell of meat and spices that exuded from the kitchen.

― "Put the car in the garage!" ― she shouted at her son and pushed one of the buttons on the small control in her hand, thus opening the electronic gate and allowing Jisung's car to park next to her sister's. ― "You two took too long, huh? I was already worried."

― "It's not my fault if this woman chose the end of the world to live in," ― muttered Han as he removed his seat belt. It was a battle to find the right way, for all the houses in that gloomy neighborhood looked exactly alike. ― "That's because we took a shortcut down the road, otherwise we'd be running around by now."

― "I would have helped if you had called me."

― "My phone suddenly lost its signal and hasn't come back until now."

Hyoyeon scowled and checked the screen of her own phone. The neighborhood was a bit high compared to the city center, which always earned her a perfect internet connection and the like.

― "Mine's normal."

― "Must be the operator" ― Jisung's hair was starting to get messy from the wind. He threw the wires back and closed the car door after leaving it. ― "Jinah's isn't working either."

Just hearing the name of the woman whose, Hyoyeon smiled immediately. She followed Choi's shy drive from the other car door to Jisung's side and tried to use her manners not to look like a complete neurotic.

― "I said so much that, for a moment, I forgot you were here. I'm sorry, honey" ― and before Jinah could say an 'it's fine', Hyoyeon rushed off, ― "Welcome, okay? The house is yours! I mean, actually, it's not even mine, it's my sister's, but in the end it doesn't matter because it's all of us. I think this is a little confusing, but-..."

― "Mom" ― Jisung interrupted her. ― "Don't."

She, then, nodded. ― "Let's eat?" ― said before turning around and entering the house. Jinah laughed softly, while Han merely shook his head, as if he had nothing to say ─ and really didn't; so, they both followed Hyoyeon and also passed through the front door.

Whenever he visited Sooyoung's house, Jisung was very impressed. His aunt was so rich that, if she wanted to, could choose any mansion she liked and pay on real money, still, she preferred to share a common house with three puppies and cook in an apron full of daisies. It was what made her happy, then. Something hard to find in a world where capitalism always speaks louder.

― "Ah, finally." ― Sooyoung left the last cutlery on the dining table and took off her apron when she noticed the arrival of visitors. She flashed a kind smile in Jisung's direction and pulled him into a hug. ― "I missed you, dear."

― "Missed you too, auntie," ― he hugged her back and examined her sweet features after their contact ended. Apart from a wrinkle or two around her eyes, she didn't seem to have changed anything since the last time they met, that is, Christmas the year before.

― "And you must be Jinah" ― Sooyoung smiled at the girl, who immediately returned the gesture. ― "Hyoyeon told me a lot about you."

Choi blushed slightly: ― "She did?"

― "But it was just good things, I promise." ― Mrs. Han set the bottle of wine on the table after pouring all the glasses and pulled out a chair to sit on. ― "It's going to get cold, don't you come?"

That's a good sign when your mother-in-law speaks better of you than your own boyfriend, right? Jinah had been very well supported by Hyoyeon from the first moment, she really had nothing to worry about. So, considering the laughter and such pleasant surroundings, why did she still feel so apprehensive?

♡˖°

Jisung lost track of how many times he rolled his eyes and drank wine over it, knowing only that this was his third glass. Did his mother really need to be so indiscreet? What the hell!

― "Once he went to school dressed as a lion cub!" ― Hyoyeon was telling Jinah and looking at her son as if the latter were still a little child dressed in a cute costume. ― "I should have brought the photos, it was the most beautiful thing in the world!"

Jisung was right; leaving his girlfriend and mother together couldn't work out in a million years. They both adored each other so intensely that he couldn't understand, leaving only a few pounds of embarrassment and a merely drunk organism that was solely responsible for not yet allowing him to hit his head on the table.

― "Lion cub, how lovely," ― Jinah said with the same intonation used to 'talk' to pets, her lips projecting a pout that was characteristic of controlling herself so as not to pinch a cheek. ― "Did you roar too?"

― "Fuck you," ― Jisung was able to mutter, as Hyoyeon, random as she was, was distracted by Sooyoung about the chocolate pie the latter cited served as dessert.

― "What a rude lion cub."

― "Jinah, one more word and I'll eat you in the punch, outside."

― "With so many ways you can eat me, does it have to be right in the punch?"

Jisung glanced over Jinah's seemingly innocent face and was almost surprised by the girl's duality, just not doing so because he was more than used to it.

― "That's the way I feel the most right now."

― "Not funny."

― "Wow, it's almost half past eleven" ― Hyoyeon was startled by the time when she unlocked her phone to answer her crush message. ― "How long did I sleep?" ― she got up then, starting to stack the dirty dishes, as dinner was long gone and the four of them were just chatting.

― "No, leave it there." ― Sooyoung stood up too, but to prevent her sister from arranging the table. ― "You can let me do it myself later."

― "No way, look at this mess," ― Hyoyeon insisted, and in that Jinah and Jisung stood to help wash and dry the dishes. The hostess, however, continued to object.

― "Guys, I make a point, really." ― Sooyoung looked fondly at each one of them. ― "Hyo, this is the first time in years you've come to visit me and we end the night without a fight, and I love you so much, okay? Living here with my puppies makes me feel fulfilled, but, sometimes, it's a little lonely, and it was an honor for me to have you three here. This dinner is just a way to say thank you."

When she was done, Hyoyeon, who was teary-eyed, didn't hesitate to hug her.

― "I love you so much too, can I sleep here tonight?"

― "You still ask?" ― Sooyoung smiled. ― "There's a room of yours up there, you fool. By the way, you and Jinah can stay if you want, Jisung."

― "We have class early tomorrow" ― lamented Jisung. ― "But thanks anyway. The food was great and it gave everyone time to piss me off. Isn't it, mom? Isn't it, JinJin?"

― "Aish, the lion cub is a complainer too," ― Jinah scoffed, prompting Hyoyeon to laugh in agreement.

Jisung decided he wouldn't stress — no more — and went to say goodbye to Sooyoung, who was the only truly kind-hearted person in that house. Meanwhile, Hyoyeon took advantage of his son's distraction and pulled Jinah to a corner.

― "I just want to thank you for doing Jisung so well," ― she said quietly, holding a slight smile on her lips. ― "I imagined coming to the country and finding him in a completely different way, but, even complaining a lot and being grumpy from time to time, he looks happy in a way I've never seen before. I hope you don't get out of my family like Chaerin did, because knowing there's someone so amazing around Jisung is all I could really want."

― "If it's up to me, I'm not going anywhere" ― Jinah moved her impassioned eyes towards Jisung, who laughed at something Sooyoung was telling. ― "And I couldn't want anything else either, because you're so much nicer than I thought. Broke all that annoying mother-in-law stereotype, you know?"

― "Oh, good! I hate that kind of thing and I'm too young to be called an annoying old woman."

Jinah laughed, but both she and Hyoyeon were startled the next second by a noise outside the house. They were near one of the windows and, through the closed glass, they could see the dull glow of the moon that appeared just after the storm had passed. Everything was wet and dark; so neither could see the real cause of the noise.

― "These Sooyoung dogs are a problem, see? They mess everything up," ― Hyoyeon supposed, placing no importance on what happened. ― "Anyway, take care. Don't run too much and watch the curves, I'm scared to drive when it rains this way."

― "And this is the fifth time the day you say the same thing." ― Jisung joined his girlfriend and took the opportunity to say goodbye to his mother with a quick hug. It was a little clumsy, as he was still getting used to the new phase in which Hyoyeon was really present in his life, but it was also good.

― "I'm really worried, leave me alone. Oh, and don't forget to call when you get home."

― "I won't forget."

Finally, Jinah said goodbye to Sooyoung and the couple left the house, closing the door on their way out. Outside, Jisung took his car keys out of his pocket and threw them at his girlfriend, who complained in pain when the key ring hit her finger. Han saw it as a kind of revenge. No one told the girl to be so distracted, after all.

― "Drive for me," ― he said, leaning against the driver's door. ― "The wine made me a little drunk."

― "Looks like someone will be late waking up tomorrow."

― "I'm fine, I just don't want to risk it."

― "Responsible lion cub."

Jisung lunged at Jinah, but all he could do was land a kiss on Choi. They couldn't take too long, fearing the two women in the house would see something, but it was enough for both of them. Three hours could mean a lot of time for both, don't criticize.

Jinah took the driver's seat and Jisung did the same in the passenger seat. After buckling up, Choi stuck the key in the ignition and started it. It took about three seconds for the car to respond to commands, something that normally didn't happen, but was soon heading down the quiet streets toward the road.

― "Do you know what would be interesting now?" ― Jisung began, breaking the few minutes of silence. ― "Motel."

The car jerked slightly, as if the front wheels suddenly hardened, then returned to normal as if nothing had happened. Jinah frowned at both the strange reaction of the vehicle and Jisung's last speech.

― "Only if it's to get there and sleep."

― "But, baby, I already said I'm fine. Who almost lost control of the steering when I only mentioned the possibility of getting laid was you."

Jinah was about to reply that she had lost nothing and that someone else's car needed to get through the garage as soon as possible, but before that, Jisung continued:

― "I just won't insist on the idea because there are no motels nearby and it's too late for those who need to present a seminar tomorrow."

― "It reminds me that I have an evaluative exercise and haven't studied anything." ― Jinah turned the wheel to finally hit the road. The car jolted again, now because the brake had failed for a minimum second and the wheels climbed higher than they had demanded. Jinah ignored it. ― "One more defeat on my list, tsk."

― "It happens."

― "Not with you."

― "Ouch, why not?"

― "You're always studying," ― Choi replied as if it were obvious. ― "Sometimes, I just want a kiss and you don't even pay attention to me because you're too busy with the books."

― "It only happens once every ten of your attempts, you dramatic, I'm always kissing you."

― "You should kiss more."

Jisung laughed weakly, ― "Okay, I'll write that down on my agenda."

― "You better do it."

The silence returned. Jinah kept her eyes fixed on the headlamp track all the time, but as the speed increased, it was impossible not to focus on the speedometer for a moment.

― "Why are you running like this?" ― asked Jisung.

― "...It's speeding by itself."

― "What?" ― Han watched the 80KM/H hand move to 100KM/H and keep moving without Jinah stepping on the accelerator. By then, Choi had already stopped pressing the pedal and focused only on the brake, but the brake didn't work at all. Jisung began to despair. ― "Why doesn't it stop?!"

― "I don't know!" ― Jinah's heart was already beating like a drum. Her eyes searched the rear-view mirror. There was only one car behind them and the distance seemed safe to opt for a drastic measure. As such, she disregarded the nearly 120KM/H and pulled the parking brake hard, but the lever simply took off. ― "My God..." ― the panic was so, but so big, that she could at least express a reaction, and knowing that a sharp turn was coming only made it all the more terrifying. With that speed, it was obvious they would roll over.

Farther back, Chaerin and Seungmin were scared. The canadian had recognized her ex-fiancé's car and had no idea why he was running so hard.

― "Is he drunk?" ― Kim asked, uneasily in the passenger seat. Alright, Jisung didn't like his person and they never had reason to get fond of it, far from it, but, there were lives that were in danger. Seungmin was about to graduate in medicine, his concern was evident. ― "If they keep this up, they won't be able to turn it! What if he's with Jinah? They'll die!"

As nervous as Seungmin, Chaerin began to honk and even tried to accelerate to reach them, but it was too dangerous. The wet track made the wheels slide so easily, their intervention could be even more fatal.

A tear of pure despair ran down Jisung's cheek.

― "I don't wanna die, Jinah!" ― he shouted. The curve was just ahead, the pointer marked exactly 160KM/H. The adrenaline was so intense that he even tried to open the car door, but all four were locked and nothing seemed to be able to open them.

Jinah felt her throat tighten. She also wanted to cry, not only because she was about to die, but also because it was her fault. She saw the signals the car gave before it reached that critical situation and ignored each one. It was her fault, only hers.

Jisung couldn't die because of her.

― "You won't" ― and uttering each syllable in a shaky voice, Jinah put all her strength into the steering wheel ─ which had also locked at some point ─ and clenched her jaw as she struggled to turn it. A loud crash announced the success, and she took the mission to stop that car as if it were the most important of her life, and it really was.

The dreaded curve that would kill them both was forgotten when Jinah threw the car off the track and into the trees. The thin logs broke against the car at all times, but their focus was on the huge oak tree a few feet away. The wood was very thick and firm, surely enough to contain the impact.

Jisung realized what his girlfriend was about to do and, as if possible, was even more desperate, as they weren't heading straight for it. Jinah wanted to defy several laws of physics and hit only her side of the car so that the damage was mostly concentrated in one part and Jisung wouldn't get hurt so badly. Han's reaction to grabbing the steering wheel to stop was completely involuntary, and the two began to 'fight' for the steering in the next few seconds. However, Jinah managed to push him before the impact happened.

The roots of the oak tree crashed to the ground, one of the airbags failed, the engine died, and everything stained crimson.

a/n: god take care of my soul, because today i die.

i took a few days to post, right? sorry, but i started sticking my face in the books to study for the upcoming exams and i'm starting to write my final paper and this is leaving me little time to come here on tumblr, i'm sorry. but on this september 7th, it's Brazil's independence day and they decided to emend with the 6th, so i'll see if i have more free time to come here, okay?

anyway, about the chapter...

i won't even apologize because i know it won't do, i really want to ask patience. who follows the AU knows that out of 10 chapters i post, 8 are fluffy, 1 is a weak angst and the rest is just the rest, so this time i really wanted to do something different and heavier. this accident was in LTM’s plans right from the start and, despite all that is coming i don't regret it, as i believe it is another opportunity to try writing using new sensations and new paths, and that's it

i see you guys in the next chapters or is this the end of the line for many of you? there's still a lot to happen in this au, just saying huh

we end up here for today, hope to see you guys soon <3

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05/29/2020 DAB Transcript

2 Samuel 14:1-15:22, John 18:1-24, Psalms 119:97-112, Proverbs 16:8-9

Today is the 29th day of May welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is wonderful to be here with you today as we continue the journey forward step by step, day by day, right, paddle by paddle however…whatever metaphor we want to use. We’re moving forward systematically, stably, every single day moving forward through the Bible. And man, we’re ending another month almost and it's just…well…I don't even want to start on that. Let's just kind of dive into where we are. We’re picking up the story of David's family. David is the king of Israel, the second king of Israel and we've kind of gone through the ups and downs of his reign in his kingdom and how we came to be and sort of the deterioration that is happening inside of his family because of some of the choices that he's made is…one of his sons, Absalom, is estranged from the king living in Geshur with his grandparents. He's estranged because he killed one of his brothers, Amnon and he did this because Amnon raped his sister Tamar. So, yeah, some issues going on in David's family. And we’ll pick up the story today. Second Samuel chapter 14 verse 1 through 15 verse 22. And we’re reading from the English Standard Version this week.

Commentary:

Okay. So, we are in an ongoing narrative. In other words, every day's reading kinda builds upon the day before and the story is being told in second Samuel of David's life and his reign and his family. And, you know, in other parts of the Bible we’re…were dealing with other genres. So, we may be leading…reading lists of things or we may…may be reading prophecies of something. But this is laid out in story form. And, so, we’re following along, and each day reveals a little bit more of the story. And you see how these things looks, like what's going on now, how they developed over time and over choices, right? So, this whole thing, kind of what's going on now begins with David and Bathsheba and we've already talked about all of the things that happened in that sordid deal. Like, David committed murder by allowing Bathsheba's husband to be killed in battle. Like some things really, really bad or happening. People are seeing this including David's own family. And then David's daughter Tamar gets raped by David's son, Amnon. And David does…doesn't really do…like doesn't really do much about it. It's Absalom…Tamar’s brother, another of her brothers who waits two years. Like, there's two years here for David to deal with this and he doesn’t, and Absalom does and kills Amnon and then flees for his life to his grandparents because he’s the son of a royal union. This is kind of how things would work. A king would…would marry a princess, the daughter of a king from somewhere else. She would come to live with him and be his wife and they would have children together, but this would kind of cement an alliance. Like, what king is going to go to battle with another king who is married to his…like who has in his possession his daughter, right? So, this is how these things go. And Absalom is the son of royalty. His grandparents are royalty in Geshur. And, so, he goes there and that's where he is for these years. And then we saw the whole plot of the general, Joab, to get Absalom back to Jerusalem and…and he does but then David ignores Absalom for two more years. Meanwhile, Absalom's out on the street, making friends and influencing people, stealing the heart of Jerusalem away from the king. And, so, we leave today's reading with Absalom having gone Hebron to initiate a coup against his father, the king of Israel. And David, he's been down this road before, right? We followed in the paths of David when he is fleeing from Saul. So, David kind of knows how to smell the danger and he's on his way out of town. Like he is fleeing from his own son who intends to take the kingship and the kingdom from his father. And on so many levels it appears that so much of this unrest that we’re seeing right now comes from systematic choices that David's making to ignore dealing with the issues within his family.

Meanwhile, in the book of John, Jesus has been arrested. And I keep pointing this out and I…I…I will keep pointing this out until we conclude John. This is the last time we’re comin’ around this way this year. This is the last time we’re going through this story this year. In fact, the days of us kind of moving along with the disciples and hearing Jesus minister and watching Him, those days are coming to a close, because we are coming to the end of the Gospels. We’ve only got a few chapters left in the gospel of John, which is the final gospel we’ll encounter this year. So, may we pay close attention and allow it to plant itself in our lives and in our hearts as we prepare to move forward in the New Testament.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. We thank You for all of the different ways that we encounter Your word, all the different kinds of styles of writing and genres. And, as we’re moving through second Samuel we thank You for this narrative story and we can see the disrespect that has grown between Absalom and King David and we can see even why and we begin to see the disintegration here. And if we take enough time to just think back over our lives, we find parallels. And, so, we invite Your Holy Spirit to continue to lead us forward into all truth. And as these stories reveal themselves, we ask that wisdom would reveal where the paths that we are choosing is going to lead us. This is what we need. We need Your direction in our lives and then we need to obey it and humble ourselves before You and obey You. So, come Holy Spirit, show us where we’re going because of the choices that we’re making we ask in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, that is home base, It’s where you find out what’s going on around here.

That’s where the Prayer Wall exists and is constantly happening. It’s where resources are available in the Daily Audio Bible Shop, resources for this journey. And variety of different categories, several different written resources that have come over the years, books that I've written over the years to take this journey deeper because they were…well…they…they were formed out of this rhythm of every day being in the Scriptures and diving deeply every day into just understanding. And…I mean growing up in the faith as I did, you know, we over time, we kind of get a vocabulary and we get an understanding of things that we don't really know what we’re talking about. We just…they’re ubiquitous in the faith. They…we talk…we just all talk about them, but we don't ever think, “what are we talking about?” And there are resources in the Daily Audio Bible Shop, book resources that…that attempt to…to go into some of that. For example, Reframe, from the God we've made to God with us is a deep exploration of what we’re even talking about when we claim we’re in a relationship with God. Like, how does that even work? What is the shape of a relationship with a deity? What is the shape of…like how do you interact with the most high? What does that mean? I needed to…I needed to know the answer to that question. And, so, that's kind of where that came from. Sneezing Jesus is like that. God of Your Story is a tangible holdable, beautiful, hardbound, classic, beautiful book, really beautifully crafted book that encompasses the journey where on. Like it gives commentary for each day of the year in a dated January 1st through December 31st format where the kinds of things we experience here at the Daily Audio Bible were written down. It took two years to make that resource. That resource is for us, for this community so that if we ever find ourselves disconnected from the Internet or…or just wanting to go deeper we have this tangible representation of this community that we are. So, check…check these resources out in the Daily Audio Bible Shop.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, from the top of my heart, from the center of my heart, and from all the sides of my heart. My heart is full and in awe on a daily basis that we even get to do this, that we even get to live at this time, that this technology even exists, that somehow, we can be all over the world and still very near. That is remarkable and that has grown and developed and happened over years because we've been in this together. And if that has mattered to you then thank you for your partnership. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app, or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

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