#mostly directed at tourists

[useless-catalanfacts]

Btw if you come on holidays and stay at an AirBnb instead of an actual registered hotel I hate you personally. Not "I hate the gentrification and touristic massification and the way we can't live in our homes and are forced to move away because of tourism" in an abstract way- No, not just that. I hate you.

[goblin-jr]

And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you.

Synopsis: Y/N has loved JJ for as long as she can remember. Now, as JJ falls for someone new, Y/N’s heart is pulled in a million different directions. 

Pairing: JJ x Reader x Rafe

masterlist

---

The sun was setting, casting warm amber light across the Outer Banks, painting the world in hues Y/N had come to know by heart. She’d watched these sunsets with JJ more times than she could count, usually from the old dock or one of their secret hideaways. This place, the marshes and beaches, had been their world since they were six years old. They’d grown up as each other’s shadow—two kids with wayward parents and a shared sense of adventure.

JJ had always been the loud one, fearless in the way he took on the world, while Y/N found herself quietly filling the spaces beside him, standing steady when life went off course. But somewhere along the line, her feelings had slipped past friendship. Now, at sixteen, Y/N’s heart raced just seeing JJ flash that mischievous grin she’d memorized years ago.

She wasn’t sure when it had happened—maybe during the late-night talks under starlit skies or after he’d shown up at her house that one terrible night when her parents' shouts rattled the windows. He was the only one who could chase away the dark. She wanted to tell him, but there was always something in the way. Mostly, lately, it was Kie.

Kie, with her bright laugh and easy charm. Y/N loved her, she really did, but there were moments when she wished she could be just a bit more like her: braver, more outgoing, effortless. JJ followed Kie with a starry-eyed devotion that broke Y/N’s heart, but she could never resent Kie for it. Besides, wasn’t it enough just to have JJ as a friend? To be by his side, even if she couldn’t hold his hand the way she wanted to?

This particular day at the country club was supposed to be different.

Y/N clocked in and picked up a tray, weaving her way around tables of tourists and regulars, her smile polite but practiced. Working alongside JJ made the shifts easier, though today her nerves twisted every time she thought about what she wanted to say. She’d decided that today was the day she’d finally tell him.

But as she scanned the room, she caught sight of JJ across the dining area, trailing Kie with that familiar, hopeful look on his face. Y/N’s heart sank, but she tried to shake it off. So what if JJ had a crush on Kie? It didn’t change what she had to say. It would just… complicate things.

She was so lost in thought that she barely noticed Rafe Cameron standing by his family’s usual table until he cleared his throat.

“Y/N, right?” he said, giving her a nod that was polite but impersonal, the sort of acknowledgment he probably reserved for the people who worked at his family’s club. “Is there someone I can talk to about the dinner reservations? There’s been some confusion.”

“Oh—yeah, sure,” she stammered, mentally kicking herself for spacing out. “I can take care of it.”

“Great,” he said, offering her a polite, reserved smile. “Appreciate it.”

He was cordial enough, but Y/N knew his reputation. He was practically crowned king of the Kooks, and though he hadn’t done anything wrong, she felt that familiar, instinctual distrust rise up. She turned and made her way to the reservation counter, Rafe already forgotten as her eyes found JJ again.

She could see him chatting with Kie across the terrace, his eyes following her with a soft look Y/N knew too well. JJ looked at Kie like she was a sunrise, something bright and untouchable. Kie was laughing, carefree as always, and Y/N had to look away. She couldn’t help but wish she could be like that—just a little more confident, a little more magnetic.

She took a deep breath. She’d tell JJ anyway. She’d waited too long already, right? They were best friends; he’d understand, even if he didn’t feel the same way.

But when her shift finally ended, she found JJ out by the clubhouse steps, pacing back and forth with that jittery energy he got whenever he was excited. Before she could say a word, he looked up, grinning.

“Hey! Guess what?” he said, his face lit up like he was about to burst. “Kie just invited me out on the boat tomorrow. It’s like, not a date or anything, but… y’know, she wants me there.”

The words she’d been holding in all day lodged in her throat. She forced a smile, trying to swallow the ache that suddenly felt so heavy. “That’s… that’s great, JJ. I know you’ve been hoping she’d notice you.”

“Right? I mean, it’s probably nothing, but it’s a start, you know?” He ran a hand through his hair, practically bouncing with anticipation. “You should come too. She’d love it if you came. We’ll all hang out like old times.”

“Yeah… maybe,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

JJ didn’t seem to notice the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she was grateful for it. She didn’t want him to see the hurt she was holding back. All she wanted was to be close to him, and if that meant staying quiet, being his best friend even when her heart was breaking, then that was what she’d do.

“See you later, then?” JJ asked, giving her a quick hug before jogging off, probably already daydreaming about tomorrow.

Y/N stood there, watching him disappear, feeling her resolve crumble. She’d come so close, but maybe today just wasn’t the right time. There would be other days, right? Other moments when JJ wasn’t looking at someone else with that same hopeful gleam in his eyes.

She walked home slowly, the sunset painting everything in soft pastels, the familiar landscape feeling just a little emptier. She thought about JJ, the way his laugh sounded like home, the way he’d always been her anchor. Even if she could never tell him, she’d stay by his side.

Maybe tomorrow, or the day after that. She’d tell him someday. But for now, loving him quietly was enough. It had to be.

--

this is a short and sweet intro to what is (hopefully) a new series! Hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!

[trustmypoison]

Traveling with SVT

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘While on a trip abroad, svt member and the reader struggle with a language barrier and end up relying on each other to navigate an unexpected adventure…?✨’

So lost - Jun, Woozi, Vernon

You better know how to read a map, because they will not even try. You guys will have a bright idea to go to a certain tourist site and he’ll pull it up on the map and shrug and say ‘okay, I know where it is’ and close the app. He’s assuming everything will be signed well and he can just find it, you know? That might not always be the case, but he might not even recognize how far off the beaten path you guys get sometimes. I don’t think it’s a case of them being too stubborn and manly to use a map or ask for directions, because he will if things get too off the rails, but what better time to get lost in a new city? That’s how you guys will come across some really cool stuff that you just can’t find when you google the city you’re in. The actual tourist sites kind of pale in comparison to your unexpected discoveries when you finally find them. 

Google translate is your best friend - Jeonghan, Minghao, Chan

I whole-heartedly believe they did their best to learn a little bit of the language before the trip. They downloaded all the apps, they bought the books, they looked up videos of native speakers to try to nail the pronunciation. I fear all of that will go out the window as soon as you land in this new place. You guys will unmistakably be tourists because of how you struggle to decipher signs in the airport. But!!! He’ll get the bright idea to just pull out google translate when it comes time to get into a taxi or uber to go to your lodgings. That app really gets a workout your whole trip. If you guys need to ask someone something, he’s pulling out his phone. He’s taking pictures of signs to let the app translate it. You guys will think ‘how do I say this in [insert langauge], and the app gets opened right away to find out. Tourists indeed, but it makes your trip all the more rewarding when you manage to navigate for the whole week with a huge language barrier and still have a good time. 

Might as well be professional taste-testers - Hoshi, DK, Mingyu

Shrugs at all of the tourist sites or scenery because it’s cool and you wanted to do all of that. But he’s really itching to get to the list of foods he wants to try while he’s here. He’s been compiling it for ages. He knows the basics of how it’s made or what ingredients are used, but he wants to try it. So for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, you let him lead you to his pick. You might even let him order for you, particularly if there are two dishes he really wants to try. If that’s the case, you both will be swapping plates back and forth throughout the meal. He’ll never shut up about the hits and swear you guys will make it when you get home. He knows some of these are going to be misses too because that's just how it goes, but even though he came away from a meal not loving something, he can still go home and say ‘you’ll never guess what I tried on our most recent trip! It was so cool!’

Souvenir shopping everywhere - Seungcheol, Seungkwan

Did you bring an extra suitcase with you? I hope you did. He sees something cool? He’s buying it. You might even be like, ‘honey, we just bought something like this at a shop yesterday, we don’t need this one’, and he’ll say, ‘of course, we need it!’ And then he’ll meticulously point out all of the differences between what you bought yesterday and what he’s about to buy today. Some of these will be gifts for others, for sure, but mostly he wants to bring home reminders of your fun little trip to keep at home. He’ll say, ‘oh, this would look good in the kitchen’, or ‘we should hang this in the living room’. You wouldn’t mind the little reminder either, so of course you agree and let him buy it - along with an extra suitcase if there’s not an empty one for all of these things back at the hotel. 

An absolute pro - Joshua, Wonwoo

You narrow your eyes at him the whole time through the airport, in the taxi, and getting settled into the hotel. He spots your expression and gives you a look that says ‘what did I do’, and you’ll cry out, ‘I thought you said you’d never been here before!’ He’ll blink, because he hasn’t. But you’d never know it. He’s borderline fluent and seems to navigate a new country with ease, like he’s downloaded the maps into his brain. He’s so fucking casual about it that within just a few days you resign yourself to him just being like that. There’s not a single moment that he shows any hesitation or confusion - not when the taxi driver asks him a question, not when you ask what’s in the local delicacy you guys ordered for lunch, and not when he can lead you through winding streets to the tourist site you wanted to see like he’s lived here his whole life. An absolute pro that I’d love to travel with!!

[lucybellwood]

I’ve been meaning to repost this mini-essay I wrote for Global Maritime History back in 2015 for AGES and since today's dash is full of people lamenting the burden of Boat Knowledge this seems like the right time.

ONWARD FOR TALL SHIP ART TIPS!

I often get questions from people who are concerned that their illustrated boats aren’t going to be up to snuff, and the short answer is generally: don’t sweat it. If you’ve drawn a thing that has a hull in the water and sails in the air, you’re off to a great start, and if you consult a few handy reference images, you’re bound to end up with something that looks mostly ship-like.

HOWEVER. There are a couple things that often get lost in translation which—if you pay attention to them—can make the difference between a passable tall ship and a vessel that definitely looks like you know your baggywrinkle from your bunghole. Here’s two tips to get you started.

Flags in the Wind

Generally when we think of a thing that’s going fast, we imagine a flag streaming out in the wind behind it, right? Well, when it comes to square rig sailing, things aren’t always so simple. If the wind is coming up from behind a ship—or from the side—to push it forward, the flag may be flying in a direction you wouldn’t expect! How are the yards angled to catch the wind in the sails? What’s driving the vessel forward? Sailors often look to flags for a quick indicator of wind direction—use that thought process when drawing your ships.

Keep Your Shrouds Tight!

Those rope ladder-looking things sailors are always clambering up? They’re called shrouds, and they also form a large part of the tensioning system that keeps a ship’s masts stable and upright. Stays (lines that don’t move i.e. stay put) are arranged throughout the rig to maintain even aft-to-fore pull on the masts and prevent them from keeling over. Shrouds form the lateral component of that system, so here’s an important fact: they will not be saggy. No saggy shrouds. No saggy stays. In addition to making the mast unstable, it’d be a devil to climb in heavy weather.

Note: the ratlines (the “ladder rungs” of the shroud) can have slack in them—it’s the vertical lines that should be tight.

When the crew is “tuning the rig,” they’re putting slack in all the stays and then re-tensioning them to ensure that the whole operation is as stable as possible, so unless you’ve got a bunch of idiots running your fictional vessel, keep ’em tight.

And another thing…

I see a lot of people running their shrouds down to the deck, rather than alongside the vessel. Don’t do that! I mean, okay, sometimes shrouds do attach to chain plates on-deck, but most of your classic Golden Age of Sail vessels will have them running alongside to the channels. Also: they end in deadeyes to help with the tensioning of the line and to keep things stable, so don’t forget your deadeyes!

Honestly, these are the biggest things that I see artists flub when drawing tall ships, so if you can keep them in mind, you’ll be head and shoulders above the rest!

If you’re looking to go more in-depth with your research, I would recommend…

Seeing if you can find a modern replica of the type of ship you’re after and then centering your reference search around the name of that ship. I get far more extensive results when I’m searching for “Privateer Lynx” rather than “1700s topsail schooner.” Don’t discount the many photos tourists will have taken while visiting these ships!

Nose around on model ship-building forums. There is no greater boon to the modern nautical artist than these obsessive craftspeople, who will spend hundreds of hours replicating classic ships in minute detail—often photographing the whole process so you can actually see how the rig of a vessel is put together! God bless ’em.

And that’s all I’ve got! I hope you’ve enjoyed this brief foray into accurate tall ship representation. Fair winds and following seas!

[thebadboyfanclub]

What Are You Waiting For Then? (Daemon x Reader)

Hey guys sorry for keeping you waiting, one of my friends was visiting so I was all day doing tourist activities, this was actually so exciting and refreshing to write!

-

“Nathaniel! Mother come quick Nathaniel is back!”

All Daemon saw was young woman ran barefoot heading towards his fellow soldier, Nathan was a man that got recruited to fight alongside Daemon to the Stepstones, he was a brave and honourable man that was shipped to the Stepstones under the fellow banners of the noble house resided in Lys named “Fyresteel”, they were the first to respond to the call for aid, the young strong man truly embedded their words

“None shall be left behind”.

The woman crushed her body to the knight almost knocking him over, she had wrapped her arms around him like her life depended on it, her clothes were semi tarnished and the hem of her dress dirty from the mud.

A few moments after she pulled away in arms length, examining Nathaniel with her eyes, the look she had on her face showed how close of a bond they shared, tears clouded her eyes as she gripped on to his biceps.

“You are back, safe and sound”

“If I died there would be no one to mess with you dear sister”

The woman did not respond, she only hugged him one more time to which the knight responded with the same warmth. Daemon was astonished by the tremendous declaration of emotions, he loved his family yet he had never been that close to his brother, if Daemon were to be back Viserys might share a hug however there would be no engulfing nor tears shed for his safe return.

“My boy! Oh my boy is back!”

A middle aged woman paced in their direction with her arms wide open. The younger woman reluctantly pulled away from her brother to make room for what Daemon guessed was the boys mother, she wiped her tears with her hands as she sniffled.

“I apologise, it is just we have not seen our brother in such a long time, I am (y/n)”

“Daemon and no need to apologise, you should be proud of your brother, he fought fiercely and was one of the most trusted soldiers in battle”

“You should thank me for that, Nathaniel always liked to wrestle with me in the mud when we were children”

“Come on, don’t stand there they are probably hungry, come inside”

Daemon was stunned by their hospitality, they had no idea who he was, no clue of his heritage yet they welcomed him with open arms to feed him just because he appeared with their family member.

It was a small cottage, mostly made out of wood and stone, it was warm from the fireplace that burned under a big pot, the smell of home made food hit Daemons nostrils like a brick, his stomach rumbled with anticipation and his tastebuds begged for something warm.

“Does your friend like goat?”

“Goat is excellent my lady”

“Oh bless you young man, I have not being called lady since I gave birth to Nathaniel”

“Mother please!”

“What? This tall handsome boy was at the same size of a little kitten when he was born, he gave us all a fright we thought he would not survive”

Daemon chuckled at the comment that made Nathaniel hide his face behind his hands. Nathaniel was the only man that followed Daemon at his crazy plan of invasion, now he had to withstand his mother ruffling his hair and pinching his cheeks with endearment.

To be honest Daemon did not care much about that, his eyes were set on (y/n), the girl had the same energy of her brother, noble, altruistic, bright, as supper was served he got caught in a trance that was her voice, he could listen to her speak about anything all day, the affability that radiated off from her was addictive to say the least, if you combine it with the earthy scent he was in true bliss, surrounded by people that took care of one another and honoured the word “family”.

Daemon had stayed with them until the moon turned, he would go around the farm with (y/n), not allowing her to lift a finger or doing her daily chores, to see a Targaryen prince milk a cow and gather chicken eggs was truly a surreal sight for anyone, Daemon felt at peace with being just Daemon, he was not “the rogue prince” nor “prince Daemon Targaryen”, his name sounded the best when it rolled off (y/n)s tongue.

“I will marry you one day”

“Will you take me back to the castle? be a princess of the seven kingdoms while I twirl in pretty dresses?”

“No, I will give you your own castle, you will be the queen of my heart and the ruler of our family”

“What are you waiting for then?”

-

Daemon flew to Kings landing at dawn, to bend the knee in front of the iron throne and beg for his marriage to be annulled, to humbly request to wed another now that he proved himself worthy and honoured the kingdom.

“Annulment? I thought you were a bit loose in the brain but this is a new type of madness even for you brother”

“I won the war against the crab eaters, I led the army to victory”

“And you assumed that it would make you invisible, you swore to be with this woman until the end of your days”

“Your grace, I am sure you are aware that the wedlock I am under was not a burden I chose to carry”

“Burden!? The lady Rhea is a respectable lady, you stand there and ask me to make Runestone our new enemy so you can marry a common beggar?”

“She is not a beggar”

“She is nobody!”

“She loves me! I do not know why but she chose to love me”

-

“My starlight, you are ravishing”

“Daemon, we are to attend a funeral”

“You will be ravishing at the funeral”

“I hope so, this is the only dress that fits me”

(Y/n) had given birth to 5 children already, to squeeze out children one right after the other meant her body had changed since they got married, her breasts had swell from breastfeeding their youngest son and the weight had managed to get comfortable.

Daemon could not keep his hands off of her, he found her new curves to be tempting, she looked like a well taken care of woman, the woman that blessed him with creating a home and children inside her, the goddess that put herself in danger to expand their family.

After moving to Pentos to elope against the kings wishes Daemon wanted to fulfil his promises, give her a castle and make her his queen.

(Y/n) was a marvellous wife and confidant, Daemon had spend all his life fighting for a place at the table, to be seen as worthy as his noble brother, the heavy weight of competition was suddenly lifted by (Y/n)s magical touch that showed him what it truly is to be accepted, to be nurtured and cared for with compassion and respect, Daemon would often watch her sleep while she rested her head on her pillow and just admire her, how could she be so… good to him?

“You are the most wonderful woman I have ever laid eyes upon”

“Seems like you are the only one that thinks like that, they are all eye balling us like we are their lunch”

With that mention from how beloved wife Daemons focus shifted from the diamonds (y/n) held for hues to observe what was behind him, to his displease he found the people from his bloodline gawking at his family, to the point that the eldest son Maelor of theirs clung a little closer to his mother, grasping her clothing with his fist for comfort and protection.

“Listen to me, stay close to your mother and myself and everything will be fine, understood?”

“Yes father”

The second born child, their first daughter Melody responded, Melody had a soft spot for her father, ever since she could walk she would wobble behind her father and wait for him to pick her up and spin her around. Daemon pinched her cheek before he took his wives free hand -since she was holding their youngest babe Aelor with their other arm- to lead his family to the place the ceremony would be held.

Daemon had promised his wife that he would not leave her alone, he guarded his partner and offsprings during the whole ceremony, choosing to stay far back than get close to his immediate bloodline members Viserys and Rhaenyra, he was content with sitting down on the bench and play with their fourth child their daughter Hera on his lap.

“I know my sweetling, I know”

(Y/n) cooed at the babe that was starting to get fussy, (y/n) had done her best to keep the babe comfortable however no one can predict when the babe wants to feed, only thing we know it’s babes are hungry often and they do not like to wait.

“What is the problem starlight?”

“I must feed him”

“Go on then”

“Daemon we are not home, if I start feeding him-“

“You will be a mother that is taking care of her babe and does not scoff in the natural way by having other woman nurse your kin”

“We know that stands true, they do not”

Daemon puffed out a breath before he reluctantly let his daughter off his lap to stand up and take (y/n)s cape to create a little curtain around his wife, as a way to assist her with putting her mind at ease so she can breastfeed that youngest member of their family.

“What is happening?”

“She must be feeding the babe”

Ottos face squirmed up in disgust at the sight of the babes own mother pulling her breast out for the babe to suckle on and in such a prestige setting, Alicent on the other side was certainly intrigued to say the least, not for the feeding part but to how attentive the rogue prince was to her, the man that had a heart made of steel was now pulling silly faces to make his children laugh and shielded his lover from invasive looks of disapproval like the one her father had.

“I think he is finished”

“Let me do the rest starlight”

Daemon had done this multiple times, their children had been very close in age so sometimes Daemon had to do the digestion process while the older one was in their “I only want my mother” time of age, so in order to relieve his wife he gracefully took his youngest son in his arm to pat his back so he can digest his food.

“Father, why is mom a starlight?”

“Often times I had to travel at night with Caraxes, the light that came from the stars gave me hope and guided me to safety”

Their daughter was a sucker for fairytales, so to listen to her father talk in such a poetic way for her mother compelled a weak smile dance on her lips, (y/n) reached to tuck a small strand of the toddlers dark hair out of her face until Melody wrapped her arms around her mother to hide her face in her mothers neck.

“What a beautiful scene, you have grown to be a wonderful father”

Viserys interrupted the precious moment by slowly approaching with his cane. Daemon instinctively took a step to stand in front of his wife, his natural need of protecting her kicked in and even though Viserys was his brother he did not take the chance.

“You honour me your grace”

“we are brothers Daemon”

“Mayhaps, long time ago we were”

“Daemon”

“Maelor why don’t you take your mother and siblings to play at the shore? I’ll be with you in a moment”

“Oh yes! Come on mother let’s go”

Maelor was smart but not witted enough to figure out why his father allowed him to lead his mother away from this interaction, the young boy was too excited to notice the stern look (y/n) shot to her husband as she took the small babe from Daemon to give him and his brother some privacy.

“I know we had our differences howbeit I come with good intentions”

“I am sure you do, until Otto whispers accusations against me”

“We mustn’t hold grudges, I am here to offer a sumbol of peace”

“Which is?”

“Your children are unfortunately considered illegitimate, I own up to the mistake of not treating your lovely wife as equal, after the funeral I shall announce to the court that we affirm your wife and children as such, let us become a family again”

“My children are my family, my wife is my family”

“And your brother is willing to acknowledge that”

Daemon let his gaze fall upon his children, (y/n) was chasing around their children while they laughed along, all of them adored their mother, every time he would watch their faces light up and (y/n) smile it was equivalent to floating around the clouds, that was the reason he took them to Pentos, to ensure they were safely tucked away in their own world, no harm, no ill minded people, just pure and utter bliss.

“I would deeply appreciate that, I however have nothing to offer you in return of that favour”

-

Daemon was rudely awakened by his wife bursting in their room, clearly disheveled she stared at him as tried to catch her breath, (y/n) would often wake up in the middle of the night to make sure her children are alright, this time it seemed she was right about it.

Daemon was on his feet in no time, silently he followed her and she was making it difficult since (y/n) was basically running.

“Maelor!”

“I am alright mother, I cannot say the same for Aemond”

“What happened?”

“I wanted to go for a ride and I found them fighting so I called for help, I did not get involved I promise I just called the guards”

“I am not mad at you sweetling you did the right thing”

“Right thing? He ran away when my son was been beaten”

“He called for help”

“It was too late for that”

“What would you rather have him do? Fight off all the others and risk his own life”

“So it is better than my son is the only one that got injured?”

“I did not say that-“

“Stop! All of you. We are family”

“It was my sons that were forced to defend themselves your grace”

The young woman spoke up as she stood in front of the two brunette boys and one of them was also stained by blood. If she had to be honest she did not care about what happened, only that her children had no part in any of it.

“He called us bastards”

The young one explained, the room grew cold all of a sudden, like someone had stolen the light out of everything. Daemon stepped a tad bit closer to his wife, the word scratching his heart enough to irritate him, it stand true but unfortunately his children could technically be called such ridiculous words.

“Where did you hear such lies Aemond?”

“It was Aegon”

All eyes were on the boy with the king white hair who was somehow dumbfounded by the accusations. The king, even though he was frail and had almost withered away approached his son, Daemon could detect some type of fury on his weak and dissolved face.

“Now you tell me… boy, why did you say that? Aegon!”

“We know father, everyone knows. I do not understand why is there a problem with it, prince Daemons children are also bastards”

“Careful now young man, we do not want you to miss an eye as well or a tongue”

Daemon was taken back by his wife threading a prince, he also noticed how her hand clenched Maelor shirt compelling him to get closer to her. (Y/n) was his wife, his love, his body, mind and soul belonged to her, she was aware of how devoted Daemon was to their family, still to hear such vile insult made her blood boil.

“My father offered for your children to become legitimate, so for the time being and the past few years they were considered b-“

The only thing that interrupted the prince was Daemons footsteps that approached Aegon, he did not touch him, he just stood right in front of him and eyeballed him right into his soul. Aegon by just pure instructed had shrunk as much as he could and avoided making eye contact with Daemon.

“Finish your sentence, go on”

“Daemon I can handle my son”

“I disagree brother you can allow your children to dig their claws into one another until the only thing that is left of them is bones but I refuse to let this idiot speak like that about MY children. With that, we shall bid you goodnight, we will be departing at dawn and hopefully we will not hear from you ever again

Requests are open!

[a-bit-too-much-of-a-zelda-fan]

I really like the decision to set TotK a few years after BotW, as opposed to the few months we’re used to in direct Zelda sequels. It gave the world a substantial amount of time to change. Hyrule is livelier. In the years of relative peace since Calamity Ganon was vanquished, it’s been allowed to grow and thrive. Hateno Village, the largest Hylian settlement, is becoming economically significant as a tourist destination and food supplier. It’s especially cool to see Riju, Tulin, and Kass’s kids mature into their adult/teenage years, respectively.

Building on that, I think it’s neat that Link is in his early twenties now. This is the oldest Link we’ve ever played as (Skyward Sword held the previous record at 17.5 y/o). He’s had time to adjust to life post-calamity. His traumatic mutism seems to be all but gone. You ever notice just how much he talks in this game? Dialogue options galore, he’s constantly explaining things to other characters, all that. And he’s more expressive, too. He outright laughs when he fuses weapons.

Link’s relationship with Zelda has also had time to grow. Guys. Fellas. Broskis. They live in the same house. In which there is only one bed. They are together. The implication here is that they share most of their meals together, and remember, it’s key to his characterization that he opens up emotionally when he’s cooking or eating. That means there has been a lot of quality bonding time between them.

Before and during the Calamity, Link served as Zelda’s royal bodyguard because the king demanded it of him. Given how he went mostly mute from the pressure of being entrusted with the princess’s safety and being chosen as the Hylian Champion (at age 17, mind you), I’d wager he didn’t particularly like the assignment until he started bonding with her. He looks downright sad when she snaps at him in that one memory at the shrine. Hell, he doesn’t smile once in the memories.

But you know what? I get the feeling that Link protects her now not out of duty like he used to, but out of love. That’s powerful because “love conquers all” and all that, but also, there’s no external pressure to be her bodyguard. Until the Upheaval, he was done being a special little hero. He was just a swordsman, but he still went where Zelda went to protect her. So instead of being crushed by that pressure, protecting her is an expression of his love for her. It’s a choice and he’s doing it because he wants to, not because it was forced on him.

That’s a lot of growth to go through, and it was paced over several years. He doesn’t appear to have aged much, but enough time has passed that Hudson has a daughter who can hold a mature conversation. That’s what, 5 years old? Yeah, Link is in his early twenties. Fucking finally, the task of saving the world falls on the shoulders of an adult (although speaking as someone entering his mid-twenties, that honestly isn’t much better).

I’m starting to ramble here so I’ll leave a parting observation of Link and Zelda’s house in Hateno. Zelda has redecorated a fair bit since moving in with Link, replacing his weapon racks with photos of her horse and various Hyruleans (her subjects who she cares deeply for), but the photo of her, Link, and the Champions is still up. And that’s really cute.

[naturistgirl]

Crowded Tourist Spots, Deserted Places and the 'Textile Offended'

I live close to a beautiful tourist area. For a naturist that can be frustrating. The beautiful landscapes, valleys, hill tops and woodlands near where my home, come in two flavours - crowded and deserted.

I am openly naturist. I hate getting tangled with the 'Textile Offended'. Let me explain my meaning. Most people I meet are generally accepting of naturism; happy and cheerful in their greetings; few are ever offended. All of us have seen a naked woman before. The 'Textile Offended' apparently aren't among them. These are people who walk past you several times to get a closer look or even a photo on their phone. They are likely to go out of their way, even changing direction so that they can be 'offended'. They wear clothes and in this hot sticky summer weather they can get awfully hot and bothered. If possible I like to avoid the risk of being on the same path. They will come up to you to tell you you're 'breaking the law' (you aren't) or 'damaging children' (naturism is NOT a safeguarding issue). The clothed don't offend me by wearing textiles but I do draw the line at them bothering me with groundless arguments and accusations. That does offend me and and it can spoil my day!

Yesterday we went hiking above Newchurch-in-Pendle. This is a well frequented area with people climbing Pendle Hill. It is a very pretty village and one associated with the Pendle Witches. There is a little shop here 'Witches Galore' and the churchyard reputedly has a hanged witch buried there. See the little witches on brooms on the fingerpost above? It gets busy in summer (and on Hallowe'en).

I generally don't even put clothes on to start with. I do however carry a side tie bikini with me 'just in case'; little triangles of cloth that cover me (barely). I have 'Daisy Dukes' too if necessary and a very skimpy little gingham blouse. They don't get much wear and the bikini is pretty pointless anyway but they do keep the 'textile offended' at bay! Yesterday I had to wear them for a little while as there were plenty of people about. It is one of the penalties of visiting textile tourist spots!

Once naked, I STAY naked, even if I see someone approaching. They have already seen me, so what? Nothing looks worse than scrambling furtively into clothes or hiding behind a rock! Just be bold; smile (a lot) and say a very cheerful 'Hello' (around here the phrase is 'How do?' Generally, my 'emergency textiles' stay neatly in my bag where they belong!

The photographic shots here were all taken in relaxed fashion as we walked the track away from the village towards Ogden Clough. It demonstrates how you can do a little naturism even in a really popular tourist area.

Most people just tend to hang around the pretty village, buy souvenirs and take cute photos on their phones. I really like that they do! It keeps them off the trails. Yes, we did see a few people hiking on the same path as us but they were mostly busy, like us, enjoying the great outdoors.

If another hiker comes along the path behind me (one did), I don't really worry too much. I don't think my derrière is capable of offending anyone? I hope not! Hopefully the same is true for my husband. Girls like tight buns too!

Finally an entreaty! Tumblr is first and foremost a Blog Site. If you are a naturist like me and enjoyed this blogpost, please like, share and re-blog with my blessing. Do add your own affirmative comments. More important, if you feel inspired to hike clothes free, please blog about it too! Though there are maybe 6.5 million naturists in the UK, we do need some more!

I welcome messages from anyone who generally wants to know more about naturism. I also love to chat with other naturists about the lifestyle. This ISN'T a sexually themed blog however (I do have one of those too but the photos will never appear here).

Indeed a Naturist lifestyle is NOT about having lots of sex simply because you're naked! Paradoxically, sex is NOT about nudity and the absence of clothing. Erotic clothing (and its gradual removal) is a sexual tease and a must!. I also work as an adult model. Photoshoots generally start with underwear and what happens when it is removed! As a naturist I simply don't wear any!

My perennial postscript: Thank you to this wonderful guy (my loving husband) for the photos shown here. (I married my photographer!)

Without him, these blogs would be all words. He makes the blog special with what he does and I love him to bits.

Walking together with Mart, we are a naturist couple and if we meet anyone else, this is generally more acceptable (for some reason) than being alone. Single naturist men are often criticised, single naturist women tend to get chatted up (and delayed!).

Jane xx

[int-writersmind]

Potential Customer

Summary: You work at a record store, bored out of your mind, until Peter Parker walks in and catches your eye. Peter Parker x Reader 

*also I wrote this with the Ps4/5 Peter Parker in mind, but honestly it's generic enough to be any Peter.

Genre: Fluff; Flirting

Word Count: 2k+

When you decided to take a job at So-So Records, you thought it would be like that movie Empire Records where every day would be an exciting romp, well hopefully not a potential job-losing-filled-romp. Unfortunately for you it was much more boring.

Your days were mostly filled with dealing with tourists who were kind-hearted but utterly clueless or pretentious audiophiles who would give you their opinions without even asking you. However, for all your big talk you weren’t that knowledgeable when it came to music, you just liked what your liked and were opened to suggestions (from unpretentious, kind customers of course.)

It was a weekday, you couldn’t remember which, since they all seem to blend together when working back-to-back shifts. You were alone, the shop had a few customers idling around. 

You were at the front counter, elbow resting on the check-out counter, head resting on one hand, the other lazily flipping through a catalog. When the front bell rings, your eyes barely flicker upwards. It isn’t until that potential customer who walked through the front door is standing right in front of you do you finally look up.

“Um, hello?” says the Potential Customer.

“Welcome to So-So Records,” you decide to stand up straight and give your full attention to this Potential Customer. Clueless Tourist or Pretentious Audiophile? “Can I help you with anything?”

“Uh, yeah, um,” The Potential Customer, a mid-twenties guy with chocolate brown hair and amber eyes that complemented, reached into his satchel and pulled out a notebook, flipping through the pages. “I’m actually looking for this album? I’ve been to a few other places and had no luck, they all say So-So would be my best chance.”

The Potential Customer, with his slouchy shoulders and tendency to fidget quite often, placed a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing up and down. Your eyes dart from the hand on the back of his neck to the hand that gives you the notebook. Your gaze lingers a little too long on his long, slender fingers. Strange, you know, but sometimes the most attractive parts of a human were really strange. 

You refocus, eyes skimming the paper, on it was a title and artist, your brain flickers with the passing glance of the cover. “Uh, yeah, I…think we have this, follow me.”

You move from behind the desk, taking the notebook in hand, glancing at the words once more. You lead– 

“I’m Peter by the way, I know you didn’t ask, but still…” You glance back, gesturing to your name tag, as you lead Peter down the aisles of various genres of music. “I actually never been to a record store before, didn’t even know they still existed.”

“I was like that too for a while,” You stop at a section where the older music was located, placing the notebook on one section of records. “Gotta thank the hipsters for making it popular again, even though they are some of the most annoying customers.”

“The only memory of records I have is when my Aunt and Uncle used to play some every so often on the weekends.”

You start to flip through the albums, scanning for the right one, “Do they still find time to play some?” 

Peter sighs and leans against a row of records, looking elsewhere, “No, no, my Uncle, actually…passed some time ago...”

You stop for a moment, fingers pausing, you look in his direction. As if he could feel your eyes on him, he looks up at you. His face, neutral with maybe a hint of sadness. Like he was used to saying that a loved one who must have been important in his life was gone, but also still hurt when thinking about him. 

“Apologies.” You say, not completely happy with the response. How many times had he heard that?

“Don’t be,” Peter crosses his arms, smirks a boyish grin that makes him even more appealing. “It made me think of a nice memory that I forgot about, more memories about Uncle Ben will never not be nice.”

You smile as you return back to searching for the record, “Oh, look I found it! That’s surprising.”

Peter moves closer, hovering over your right shoulder to get a better look, You sharply suck in breath, turning your head to look at him. Peter glances at you, and smiles, “That’s great, kind of a shame though.”

“Why?”

“'Cause it means I have to leave now,” You hand him the record and the notebook, to which Peter plucks it from your hand, looking over the front and the back, while moving away from you. You exhale deeply as you follow behind him.

“Who says you have to go? Unless you have somewhere to go?” You finally say.

“I think I can spare some time,” Peter looks down at his pretend watch on his bare wrist, “Are you gonna introduce me to some music that will change my life?”

“Please,” You laugh as the two of you lazily walk down the aisle, “I’m hardly the last person to do so.”

“Don’t you-” 

“Work at a record store? I know, I know, but I like what I like. Sue me if it’s Top 100.”

The two of you stop at the end of the aisle, you standing at one end of a row of records, Peter moving over and doing the same.

“I guess it’s better than getting made fun of for having an old man's taste.”

“Really? You get hate for having a love for the oldies? That’s some bullshit, especially in a place like New York.”

“Well, when you're a nerdy kid with thick glasses and a love of science, it’s not so cool” Peter flicks through the stack, pulling up an album by a band that was huge in the 70s. 

“Hmm, if you like that group,” You flick through some albums on your side, skimming until you land on the second record by a female-led group from around the same time. “How about this?” You model the record, posing with it, flipping it from front to back. “And…it’s on sale.” You move over to the same aisle as Peter, standing close to him like he did to you earlier. 

Peter takes the record from your hand, “I think younger, nerdier me would have loved this.”

“Younger, nerdier, you sounds like he was such a cutie.” You response. 

“Was?”

You shyly smile back, moving away with your hands behind your back. ”

This was grossly unprofessional, what were your intentions with this potential customer? Making a sale or making a move. You push that thought out of your head, if you were making him uncomfortable or pushing it too far, then he wouldn’t be smirking at you like that. That smile that causes a slight flurry of butterflies in your stomach. 

The two of you continue your walk back to the front, the long way of course. Bobbing and weaving through different aisles, many short, some long. Passing through pop–contemporary and classic, and some RnB, ending up at one end of the store, in the rock section. “What were you like in high school?” Peter asks.

“Quiet, mostly,” You lean against the wall and Peter does the same next to you. “Not too popular but I had friends, spent a lot of time with my art and music teachers, focused on doing little stuff like that instead of more fun extracurricular activities.”

“Huh, yeah I get it, I found some time to do some little stuff to distract myself in high school too. Nothing…too exciting.” 

You inch closer to Peter and so does he, to the point where the two of you bump shoulders. “Oh sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Peter says.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. The two of you just stare at one another, the hum of whatever record you put on earlier lightly plays in the air. The dry smell of the older, original pressings of albums of the past, filling up the room. 

You dart your eyes downward, quickly, towards his lips, before looking away. God, now this was unprofessional. “Shit, sorry.” You move off the wall, but Peter’s hand on your wrist causes you to turn. His touch wasn’t aggressive, or rough, but gentle and light. Like a feather was tickling the underside of your hand instead of his long, slender fingers. 

Ding-Ding!

Both of your heads turn towards the door, a middle aged couple walk in, wonder in their eyes, cameras slung over their head. Clueless Tourists. You and Peter look at one another, before resigning to the situation and finally making it to the front. You, behind the counter, Peter in front, the two records under his arm.

“Hello, welcome to So-So Records, I’ll be here if you need me.” You say to the newest potential customers, as they give you that polite nod, and split off into the rest of the store. Peter places the records on the table, when all of sudden his phone goes off, he opens it and stares intently at the screen. “Something wrong?”

“No, ah yes, no,” Peter says, his head whipping from his phone to you multiple times. “I-God, I hate to do this but I can’ take these right now–”

“You can always come back.” You take the records from the counter, holding them in your hand.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I close tonight, you can come back later and get them.” You place the records behind you, before looking back nervously. “I mean only if you want, obviously, duh.”

“Duh.” Peter dryly chuckles, glancing once more at his phone. “I really have to leave, but I’ll be back, I promise. It’s a date. I mean, no, not a date, but–”

“I gotcha.” You wink and smile at Peter as he nervously backs up, sneaking in a last look before leaving through the door, with a ding-ding.

God, you can not believe what just happened! Are you some teenage girl whose knees go weak when a semi-attractive guy shoots you a smile? Who’s touch makes your face heat up, even if it’s just shoulders touching, or gentle, kind, fingertips on your wrist?

For the rest of your shift, you did more of the same that you did every day at your job. Helping customers, listening to unsolicited music advice, and a lot of needless flipping through the store’s catalog.

As the day wined down, the sun dipping into the horizon, you made peace with the fact that Peter wasn’t coming back. Whatever, this  is reality not some rom-com where fate will bring the two leads back together at the end.

You also decided to buy your recommendation to Peter as well, you had plenty of copies of it in the store, so if he decides to come back after all, he could get his own copy. 

You pull down the store’s  front gate, squatting down to lock the padlock, pulling it to make sure it was secure, the record under your arm.

“Making away with customers orders I see.”

You turn to face the familiar voice, Peter slightly out of breath, but still as charming as he was this morning. “Potential customer.” You say, standing up, smiling ever just subtly.

“Sorry I’m late,” Peter glances at the closed store, with its darkened lights and gated entrance. “Like really late.”

“Hmm, that’s ok,” You turn to walk down the sidewalk, your head peering over your shoulder, “Walk with me?” 

As you walk down the sidewalk, record held in your arms across your chest, Peter falls in rhythm with you, so close that his hand occasionally grazes your leg. Jokingly you say, “I thought you forgot all about me, wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Oh god no,” Pete dryly chuckles. “The only thing I could think about was you, I-I mean coming back here to pick up the records and uh, and also to see you, I guess.”

“Ah, you guess huh?” 

The two of you wait at a crosswalk, before deciding to jaywalk as there were no cars in sight, you make a turn once you get to the other side, on the block that you lived on.

“I was actually coming to tell you that I no longer need that record actually, the one I came in for. It was for a, uh, a project that quickly evolved to…something else.”

“Ok, I see,” Your head turns to Peter and he does the same, your eyes lock on to one another, his face filled with nerves. “You were gonna come all the way back here to not buy something. That’s a first, I would have preferred ghosting.”

Peter laughs again, shaking his head, “No, no, I was still gonna get the record that you suggested to me. Sounds more up my alley anyway.” You stop in front of your apartment building, with Peter placing his hand on your arm to move out of another couples way. The two of you stand in front of the building's metal gates. “But it seems I have to come back during business hours to do so.”

“Or not.”

Peter raises his eyebrows in confusion, as you reach in your jacket’s pocket for a notebook you always kept. You write down something on the paper, using the pen you stuck in the notebook holder, tearing off the page. You place the paper on top of the record and push it towards him.

“No I can't-”

“I’m not giving it to you.” You say, “I’m lending it to you. Listen to it, listen to it again and then…call me, or text me and let me know how it is.” Peter takes the record and piece of paper from your hands, his fingers brushing yours. “And don’t ghost me, it would be a shame if I never get to see-talk to you again.”

“Yeah…it would be…”

“Goodnight Peter.”

Peter says your name, it makes your heart flutter just for a moment when he does so, ‘“Goodnight.” But the two of you don’t leave, you two just stare at each for a little longer.

Your phone rings and you’re forced to look at it.

“My roommate, she gets antsy if I don’t come home exactly when I say I will.”

“I understand.”

You nod and turn to walk into the building. Before you go through the doors, you glance back to see Peter staring at the piece of paper before looking up at you, that same smirk on his face. 

God, you are so unprofessional.

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

Read Part 2 -> Hanging on the Telephone!

Oh my goodness this is my first fic on Tumblr! Please be kind and comment if you like, like if you prefer, reblog if you're like that, I won't judge. Always open for suggestions and to ~virtually~ meet others! I'm so new to this and I know I'm currently talking into the void but, whatever...Bye, thanks if you made it this far!!!

masterlist

[carionto]

Not "Party Hard" Enough...

As the Galactic cruise ship "Vinogradova" exits hyper space, the wealthy guests congregate at their viewing stations for the scheduled milling about in fancy dress and secretly getting wasted while some tour guide recites Galactipedia about whatever planet they're orbiting now.

"Here we have the illustrious Nestrall'anwa II, a most unique ocean world due to it's near perfect stillness. Eons ago a cataclysmic event destroyed it's only moon, creating a temporary ring around the planet, which we can see in this holographic recreation."

A massive array of projectors from the cruise ship emanate around the planet itself, creating a literal holographic debris ring. A most spectacular sight indeed.

"The tectonic activity is unusual as well, the plates are all moving in roughly the same directions, a sort of secondary spin cycle if you think about it. The planet spins around its axis, and the crust rotates around the mantle. Though this will become more chaotic in about six million years when one of the smaller plates will catch up and start creating underwater mountains. It is estimated that one day this planet will be incredibly mountainous and likely be able to support life."

Suddenly, the ship was being hailed by a signal coming from the water planet. After the automated system verified it is a valid source, Human no less, they opened the channel. Instantly, they were greeting by loud and obnoxious Human music, Rock'n'Roll it is called.

"Sup dudes! We saw that light show you guys put up earlier, could you do it again? That shit was sweeeeeet! Surf up!" The audio message was followed by a strange single hand gesture emoticon with the first, second and fifth appendages extended, and the third and fourth bent inwards.

Upon complying with the Human's request, the crew decided to go into manual mode and check what the fuck was going on here.

Apparently, the Humans had set up a series of floating platforms on the planet, using typical resort and amusement design patters. The Humans were mostly engaged with consuming various colorful liquids, undulating in strange patterns on a colorful floor with a mirror ball drone floating overhead, and many more were on colorful boards of some kind. Standing upright and trying to keep balance. On waves.

Wait.

Uhh...

There's three moons now.

Um, Humans?

"Sup brah! Yeah we brought the moons over. This place looked dope, we were hoping for the perfect surf world, but it was so boring when we got here a few months back. But then my bro remembered he worked on one of those space experimental projects or whatever, but after running out of funding, they had some spare moons just lying around Jupiter. So we figured, 'Hey, nobody is using these, this planet needs some juice, win-win.' Amirite!

And, um, did the Coalition approve of the moving of celestial bodies into neutral systems, per the Jimothy Law?

"Pshaw, nah bruh. Paperwork is for the computers, we're meant for the thrill, dude or dudete or dudit. Dudethem? Dudio! Dudorama... wait, is it Deuteronomy? Dudada!"

The Human continued to count variations of the term for the next several minutes, perhaps inebriated by some kind of mind altering substance, though it can be hard to tell with some Humans.

The captain of the ship decided that it's beyond his pay and they're just gonna continue the tour. Some of the Human tourists and even a couple of heavily intoxicated others did decide to cut their trip short and visit this newly tidally active world with it's Human introduced activities. Surfs up!

[221beloved]

Afternoon Stroll

(Link to ao3)

"Sherlock! What the hell are we even doing here?" John hissed, crouching behind the other man.

Sherlock just made a noise, waving a hand in the vague direction of him.

"Don't you shush me, what do you have in mind?"

They were currently hidden in a little alcove, but before John could catch his breath Sherlock grabbed his wrist and pulled him with him.

"That's not what I was thinking about when you asked me about an afternoon stroll. At least it's dark already." John muttered, running behind Sherlock in a ducked position.

"No, seriously, why are we running through a tourist area in the evening, when nothing's actually open anyway, hiding in dark corners-- whoa."

He broke off involuntarily, as Sherlock pulled him around a corner and over a mostly deserted place.

"Oh no," John breathed when he finally saw what they were heading towards.

"No, whatever it is you are thinking about, no. It's a bad idea, no."

Sherlock gave John a look over his shoulder, and the grin he was wearing was definitely worrying John. The man had a plan and he would pull through with it, no matter what.

"We're just trying to avoid the cameras," he smirked at John, then turned to conquer the last meters to one of the main tourist attractions London had to offer. John followed. As he did always.

"Just to be sure," John whispered, "You're not planning to hijack the London Eye and get us a private round, are you? Because it wouldn't be private for long. The people with those funny blue lights would turn up, and I think they would be pretty pissed."

"John," Sherlock finally turned to look at him.

"I'm not stupid. I'm a genius, remember?"

"Sometimes it's difficult to," John admitted, but the lifted corner of his mouth gave him away. He too was enjoying this. In a way.

"Well then." Sherlock grabbed John's hand and pulled him towards the barrier.

"How do you plan to get past this?"

"We'll find a way in," Sherlock chimed, and indeed, after minutes spent climbing and squeezing they were standing in front of the drivers cab.

"Well, what now?" John was panting.

Sherlock pointed towards the stairs, winding their way up at the right side of the attraction.

"What the hell--" John began, but was interrupted by the detective. The hyperactive detective, John added in his mind.

"Come on John, we don't have forever before someone will see us."

"Brilliant," John muttered, but followed Sherlock, who was currently climbing over the barrier in front of said stairs.

"And what now?" John asked once again when they'd reached the top of the stairs. Compared to the eye itself, they weren't that high, but it was high enough John supposed.

"I didn't think the struts would be that big," Sherlock said in a voice that came close to swearing.

John frowned. "And why is that important?"

Sherlock shook his head. "We'll find one that fits.

"They slowly descended the stairs again, this time staring intensely at the scaffolding.

"There," Sherlock all but shouted suddenly. He was pointing at a small strut, connecting two bigger ones horizontally.

"Hm, that one's quite far away, don't you think?"

"Nonsense, I'll just bent over the railing and..."

Before John could react properly, Sherlock had pulled something small and red from his pocket and was indeed leaning over the railing, doing something at said strut.

"Sherlock!" John hissed and grabbed Sherlock's hips under the coat to try and stabilise him.

There was a quiet metal click and then Sherlock was standing next to him securely again.

"What did you do?"

"Have a look." Sherlock was beaming at him, his eyes practically glowing in the dark.

Warily, John bent over the railing, and then froze when he saw what Sherlock had done.

There, at the barely thin enough strut, was now hanging a small, red padlock.

John narrowed his eyes and leaned even closer to have a better look. There was something engraved, too.

SH, a little heart, JW.

John straightened and turned to stare at Sherlock.

"You--"

John looked at the little red padlock, gleaming innocently in the night-light from the city, then back at Sherlock again.

"You imbecile...!"

Sherlock grinned at him proudly.

"Oh my god," John whispered, shaking his head. "Oh, my god!"

Sherlock's grin was faltering slightly, but before he could ask his usual question of 'not good?' John grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and pulled him down into a fierce kiss.

"Come on," he said when he finally pulled back.

"Let's go home."

This time John was the one to grab Sherlock's hand and pull him with him.

They'd just passed the last barrier, when a man came running towards them. A man in uniform.

"Oi, you two, don't move, stay exactly were you are!"

John and Sherlock looked at each other.

"Home?"

"Home."

And this evening, they were the ones running away from the police.

--

Please tell me if you want to be added or removed from the list!

@flufftober @meetinginsamarra @a-victorian-girl @lisbeth-kk @topsyturvy-turtely

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@quiscustodiet @willamholmeswatson @calaisreno @chaiandpages

[television-overload]

What Really Happened

(an NCIS fanfic)

September 2024. Tali has some questions about her parents' trip to Paris nearly fifteen years prior, and she's determined to get the details.

Written for the September 2024 Tiva Fic Challenge! This month's prompt was "Jet Lag: What Really Happened?"

Read on AO3

For as long as Tali could remember, her father had told her a story. 

Twenty-four hours in Paris. A whirlwind trip, romantic and magical. The thing is, every time he told the story, it was different. Details changed, dialogue was exaggerated to unbelievable proportions… What it lacked in detail, it made up for in sentimentality. 

“And then I told her she was the most beautiful thing in the city, even prettier than the Eiffel Tower when it sparkles.”

“Did you kiss?” Tali would ask, eyes twinkling.

“Uh, yeah, of course. Now will you go to bed?”

Tali could see, now, he just told her whatever would get her to sleep the quickest. While she hadn’t understood back then, it couldn’t have been easy to be so suddenly thrust into fatherhood with no warning. But it never mattered to her. He was her Abba, and he was the best dad she could have asked for.

“No, tell me more!” she’d demand. “What did Ima look like?”

He would adjust the frame on her bed stand, gazing wistfully at the picture within.

“She looked like an angel, just like you.”

Only a few things stayed the same with every retelling, as far as she could figure: Her mother and father together in Paris, a quaint cafe not far from the tourist sites, and a Vespa scooter that they rode around the city together. 

That all may have suited her just fine as a bedtime story when she was little, but Tali was almost eleven years old, now. She could tell she wasn't being told the full truth, and she had a feeling some of the details he would recite were entirely fabricated. She'd done the math, compared the story with what she knew of their lives before she was born—what others who knew them then had told her. Oh yeah, she had sources.

It just didn’t match up.

Time to test out those detective skills to get to the bottom of it. Surely those were genetic?

There was a box in her parents’ closet. It had been there as long as they’d lived here, shipped over from the U.S. when they first moved. Mostly, she figured it held boring stuff like paperwork and whatever else had been in her father’s desk at NCIS before he quit. But maybe there was more. Maybe it contained all the answers to every question she’d ever wondered about her parents.

Or maybe not.

Kneeling on the floor of the closet, she surveyed the contents of the plain cardboard box. It was a mess of papers. Considering the journey it had taken across an ocean and later from their old apartment to their new one, she wasn’t surprised. There were a few other items mixed in, a colorful stapler with a cartoon mouse on it, a few dusty looking service awards…

And an envelope. Now that looked promising.

Reaching in, she pulled it out, growing more and more certain that what she held was a stack of photographs. Photographs of what, she could only guess. Had she found clues that might explain what her parents had been doing in Paris years before they would ever move here? If not, what other pictures might her father have kept in his desk at work?

She held her breath as she opened it, carefully plucking at the corner of one of the colorful prints as she pulled it from the stack.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Tali jumped, only narrowly avoiding throwing the pictures across the room in reflex.

“Ima!” she squeaked, wondering if it was too late to hide them behind her back. The box wasn’t off-limits, per se, but it did have a sort of mystical quality that made digging around in it feel like a breach of some code. It was from a time long past—a time her parents didn’t talk about much, at least when she was around.

But there her mother stood in the doorway to her room, arms crossed over her chest as she fixed a suspicious glare in her direction.

“I was just—”

Her words trailed off as her mother’s expression quickly shifted from suspicion to curiosity. “What do you have there?” she asked, her folded arms falling to her sides as she made her way across the room, glancing down at the box splayed open in the closet.

Tali held out the envelope. Well, this had been a mission failure, she thought—at least the stealthy, ninja-like aspect of it. It remained to be seen if she had in fact found what she was looking for. 

“Just some pictures, I think,” she mumbled, handing them over reluctantly.

Her ima slipped them out of the envelope and flipped through them, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a wistful smile.

“Honey, I’m home!” a voice singsonged from the entry hall, echoey and distant. 

Her dad. 

He’d started saying that when he got home from work as a joke, but now he did it unironically. It got old pretty quick, but she did find it endearing, in a way. 

“Hey, where is everybody?” he asked, his voice getting louder and clearer with proximity. Before long, he was peeking his head around the doorway. “Uh oh, am I in trouble?” he asked, taking note of the box at their feet. “I swear I threw out those old magazines before we moved.”

Tali briefly wondered what magazines he could possibly be talking about, and why he would have a physical copy of a magazine in the first place, but she was much more interested in the photos her mom was holding.

“Look what our daughter found,” her ima said, waving the glossy prints in her father’s direction.

“Not the… in California…”

Her ima laughed. “No. Not those ones.”

Her father looked somewhat relieved. “Ah, then it must be the ones from my brief stint as a travel photographer,” he mused aloud, setting his briefcase aside and approaching their huddle by the closet. He took one look at the photos in her hand and grinned. “I still think that’s my favorite picture, by the way,” he said, nodding down at the one she held separate from the others, then dipping down to press a quick kiss to her lips.

“I didn’t actually get to see them,” Tali pouted, crossing her arms with a huff. “Ima took them away before I could see what they were.”

Her mother shared a look with her father, communicating in that infuriatingly wordless way they always did. What were they smirking at?

“Why don’t we go sit down on the couch in the living room and we can look through them together, my love,” Ima said at last, flicking off the light in the closet. 

Tali supposed that was agreeable. Whatever she had found, she could at least now be certain they were photos from her parents’ past. She followed them out to the sofa, taking a seat between them on the cushions.

“You know what these are?” her mother asked, finally granting her a peek at what she had unearthed from the box.

It took all her self control not to whoop in excitement when she spotted familiar streets and buildings in just the first few photos. 

Jackpot. 

“Dad told me,” she said, smiling as she came across one of Ima looking through postcards at a shop. That must be her father’s favorite. “You guys came to Paris.”

Her mother nodded. “We were sent here for work, that’s right.”

Wait, go back a second.

“For work?” Tali asked, her forehead crinkling in confusion. “Dad never told me that.”  

“He—” Ima’s head slowly turned in her father’s direction, fixing him with a meaningful glare. “What did he tell you?” she asked, her tone light and inquisitive, but Tali could sense the undercurrent of tension her comment had sparked. Dad was in troubleee.

She glanced at him quickly before answering. “Well… It all sounded very… romantic,” she spoke. To her left, her father looked like he was trying to disappear into the cushions, an awkward grin pulling at his lips. 

Oh, Abba, surely you knew this would one day come back to bite you?

“Tony!” Ima shouted predictably, smacking him in the arm. “Why did you lie to Tali?”

“I didn’t lie to her,” he asserted, chuckling nervously.

“You told me that you kissed her on the Eiffel Tower!” Tali said, adding fuel to the flame. Ima's jaw dropped, and she shot him a look. It was funny to watch her dad squirm. Only Ima could make him do that.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I may have embellished a little,” he acknowledged.

Her mother grabbed the nearest throw pillow off the couch and used it to wallop him in the face, all the while concealing a smile. A woosh of air from the attack blew Tali’s hair back, and she giggled uncontrollably, falling back into the cushions.

“Tony, you have never kissed me on the Eiffel Tower,” she countered irritably.

“I haven’t? Well, we should go fix that,” he said, pretending to get to his feet to leave.

Tali rolled her eyes. “Daaaad.”

He sat back down. “Alright, another time,” he acquiesced. “To be fair, what happened in Paris has always been a bit of a secret between your mom and I. I distinctly remember you lying to Nora on that plane, sweetcheeks.”

“And you lied to McGee,” her mom fired back without missing a beat.

“I knew it,” Tali whispered. Okay, so she knew a little more than she was letting on. Uncle Tim will be delighted that she got a confession out of them.

“I’ll admit it,” Dad started, getting serious once more. “The bedtime story version wasn’t quite the truth.” 

Well yeah, that was obvious. 

“The truth is, we were on assignment for NCIS,” he continued. “Not very romantic, huh? I guess the way I told it is how I wish it had happened. How it should have happened, if I hadn’t been such a coward.”

This brought a fond, slightly sad smile to her mother’s face, and Tali could feel an arm drape over the back of the couch behind her.

“I wouldn’t say it was entirely unromantic,” Ima said, her fingers playing with the short hair at the back of her dad’s head. “She is old enough to hear this story, yes?” she said, her eyes imploring him to agree with her.

“Most of it,” he answered, breathing out a laugh. “I think she can live without the knitting needle incident until she’s a little older.”

“Agreed.”

Tali crossed her legs on the couch, looking back and forth between her parents. She waited with bated breath for the story to begin, but they sure were taking their sweet time.

Sometimes this happened. They'd just go silent and stare at each other with dopey smiles on their faces until someone or something snapped them out of it. It was annoying.

“Hello?” she said, hopefully reminding them of her presence. “You were saying?”

Her dad was the first to break eye contact, reaching out for the stack of photos and flipping through them.

“Right,” he started. “Do you want to start, or should I, sweetcheeks?”

“You go,” Ima said with a nod. “I want to see if you are capable of remembering this correctly.”

Dad opened his mouth as if to argue, but Tali, with the gift of foresight, distracted him with a question before he could start.

“So, what was the assignment?” she asked, blinking up at him imploringly.

“Protection detail,” he answered, shifting his attention back to her. “A witness who needed safe passage back to the U.S. for a trial. Nora was her name.”

“So you just went there to pick her up and that was it?” Tali asked, desperately hoping that wasn't the case. How boring would that be? No, she knew they had fond memories of the trip. There had to be more than that.

“Pretty much,” her dad answered. “But we flew in the day before, so we got to explore a little bit.”

“Tell me!”

Her mother chuckled, shaking her head at Tali's eagerness.

“Your father wouldn't stop making movie references the entire time we were in the city,” she said. “I think as soon as we stepped foot in the airport, he thought we were on some kind of grand adventure. I had to remind him we were there on business, and that we needed to check into the hotel before doing anything else.”

“You should have seen McGee's face when the Director picked us to go,” her dad said with a laugh. “Oh, it was priceless.”

“What happened next?” Tali implored.

Her father crossed his arms and kicked his feet up on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Well, your mom convinced me that we needed to go drop our stuff off at the hotel first, so we caught a taxi. Secretly, I think she just wanted to freshen up, fix her hair and makeup and all that after being stuck on a plane for so long. She had a crush on me back then, you know.”

His eyes met her ima’s here, one eyebrow twitching upward teasingly.

“Oh, shut up,” Ima said, rolling her eyes.

“It's true!”

“Not a crush, that was earlier. This was something different.”

“Looove?” he singsonged, his grin infectious.

“Nooo,” Ima sang right back, matching his tone. “I do not know. Maybe. I do not think even I knew what it was at the time.”

“Well I was pretty in love with you,” he responded, practically radiating heart eyes in her direction. “Obviously.”

“You were not so obvious. I thought you were just being a goofball,” Ima spoke.

Any easy mistake, Tali thought.

“I was trying to flirt with you, but clearly I didn't succeed,” he corrected. “You know, Tali, your mom refused to go sightseeing with me.”

Tali turned to her mother, surprised. “What? Why?”

“We had a mission, I was trying to keep things professional,” she said in her defense. “It was in the best interest of our witness that we get a good night's rest and stay on task.”

Yeah, but that sounded boring.

Her father, evidently, agreed. “You're no fun,” he said with an exaggerated pout.

“I went to dinner with you, didn't I?” Ima asked.

He begrudgingly nodded. “She did go to dinner with me, I'll give her that.”

“And was the dinner not romantic?”

“Hard to find somewhere to eat that doesn't fit that description in this city,” he countered.

Ziva waved her hand in the air with finality. “There you go.”

Tali couldn’t help but feel that they’d gotten a little off track, but it was still fun to hear about their time together before she was born. She tried to picture them, younger than she’d ever seen them and probably a little wilder, too. She wanted to know more.

“So you went to dinner,” Tali summarized, nudging them to tell the rest of the story. “You didn't go anywhere else?”

Ima jumped in next. “Well, your father… He had rented a scooter—you know about the scooter,” she said, referring to the one in the picture Tali still kept on her nightstand. Tali nodded emphatically. This was one element of the story that had remained consistent throughout every retelling. Her mother continued, “He got us so lost on the way back to the hotel after dinner, that eventually I had to tell him to stop so I could ask someone for directions.”

At this, her father looked highly pleased with himself, his small smile concealing an even wider grin. 

“Can I let you in on a little secret, sweetcheeks?” he said.

“Hm?”

“I wasn't lost. I knew exactly where we were the whole time.”

Ima’s jaw dropped open, and Tali thought her dad was lucky that Ima was all out of pillows on her side of the couch that could be used as ammunition.

“Tony! We drove around for at least an hour!” she chastised. 

“Exactly! How else was I going to take you to look at the pretty lights around the city, or to all the big tourist sites?”

“I cannot believe you.”

“Come on, you loved it,” he said knowingly, tilting his head at her. “You got to put your arms around me for a whole hour.”

Ima raised an eyebrow and Tali could tell she was determinedly resisting the urge to laugh. “Are you sure that was not your motivation for it, then?”

“Oh, it absolutely was,” he answered easily. “If that was the only time I'd get to feel your arms around me, I was gonna make the most of it.”

Blegh, Tali thought. That was one thing that made her different from most kids in her class. Her parents really really loved each other. And they weren’t afraid to show it.

“I did enjoy it,” Ima admitted. “I liked that cologne you used to wear.”

“Well, that's good,” he said, smiling, “I practically drenched myself in it whenever I knew I'd be working in close quarters with you. I think maybe I hoped it would be like some kind of magic potion that would make you fall madly in love with me.”

“I guess it worked,” her mother teased with a shrug, which her father got a kick out of.

“I guess it did,” he said. “Though I hope you love me for more than just the way I smell. That cologne went out of production years ago.”

Ima’s eyes shone, equal parts charmed and amused. “I do. You know I do.” 

His lips pulled back in a smile and he leaned forward, meeting Ima’s lips with his own right in front of Tali. She was practically squished between them, forced to endure their display of affection at close range.

“Would you two like to sit next to each other?” she asked, unimpressed. “I feel like I'm not even here.”

Her parents withdrew, her father suppressing a laugh. “Sorry, where were we?”

“Dinner,” she reminded him.

“Right,” he started. “Well, before dinner, we walked around for a bit, looked at all the little shops. That's when I took this picture of your Ima,” he said, holding out the one of her at the postcard stand. “Pretty good, huh?”

“I still think it would look better in black and white,” Ima spoke, looking at it with a critical eye.

“Maybe we could get a copy made, hang it on the wall,” her father offered, which elicited a chuckle.

“Now, I would not go that far.”

“Did you buy anything?” Tali asked, wondering what someone who didn’t live in the city might want to take home with them as a memento.

“Just some souvenirs,” Dad answered. “And a postcard for McGee. ‘Wish you were here!’”

Ima smiled. “Then we sat and ate dinner.”

“You looked so beautiful that day,” her father mused, gazing fondly at the photograph in hand. “I really do wish I had kissed you. I drove you right by the Eiffel Tower.”

“Which was nowhere near our hotel,” she reminded him.

“Pretty sure we've established that I was being sneaky.”

“What happened when you got back to the hotel?” Tali asked.

Ima looked suspiciously at her. “You are being very nosy today, motek. Why the sudden questions?”

Tali shrugged, keeping her face neutral. “I've just always wondered, that's all.”

Ima narrowed her eyes, not fully accepting that as an answer, but eventually, she continued. “Well, we actually had a nice hotel to stay at, for once. Usually when we traveled, at least in the States, NCIS would book us rooms at the cheapest motels they could find.”

“But not this time?”

She shook her head. “Not this time. They wanted us somewhere close to the embassy, where we would be picking up our witness.”

“Wow.” Their jobs sounded so cool, sometimes. Of course, she knew there was a lot of un-cool stuff they hadn’t told her, but what she did know sounded fun. She still sometimes had a hard time believing her boring old parents were once gun-toting federal agents, chasing down bad guys and saving the day. It seemed even more improbable that her Grampa Gibbs had done the same.

“You're skipping over a very important part of the story, Zee-vah,” her father said smugly, bringing her attention back to the tale. “Tell her what the front desk lady said when we tried to check in!”

Ima rolled her eyes and huffed. “Tony, I can tell you want to say this part, so why don't you just do it?”

He grinned excitedly. “Fine. I will. So we walked in this huge, beautiful lobby, right? And I went up to the desk and said, ‘Excuse me, ma’am. There should be two rooms under the name DiNozzo for us, please.’”

“Two rooms?” Tali asked.

“We were just friends back then, you see,” her abba explained. “Actually, we had been going through a bit of a rough patch. Friends might have been pushing it.”

Ima was quick to correct that. “You were my friend, Tony,” she said, looking at him kind of sadly.

He gave a nod. “Friends, then. But not together. And since we were there for work, it was agency policy for two agents of opposite gender to stay in separate rooms.”

That made sense, Tali supposed.

“But then…” Ima started.

“Hey, you said I could tell this part,” her father whined.

“Alright, then get to the point,” she waved him on.

“But then,” he repeated, “the woman at the desk said there was some misunderstanding with our reservation, and they only had one room for us.”

Misunderstanding? Or mischief on Uncle Tim's part as some form of payback for not getting to go to Paris, Tali wondered. She made a mental note to ask him the next time she talked to him.

“Would you have gotten in trouble?” she asked instead.

“We probably would have gotten a slap on the wrist from H.R., and a slap on the head from Gibbs. But no one ever found out,” her father answered.

From what Tali had heard from Uncle Tim, he knew something about what happened. But the specifics were out of his reach too. That’s where Tali came in.

“God, I was so in love with you,” her abba said, gazing lovingly at her ima. “It was pathetic. I don't know how you could have missed it. That mixup with the rooms was like my wildest dream coming true.”

“Tony…”

“I'm sorry if I drove you crazy that night,” he continued, ignoring her attempt to stop him. “I think I was a little drunk on the wine we'd had at dinner still.”

“You were not drunk. I know, because I let you drive us home. You were just… Tony.”

“Mm. Just me, huh?” he asked, smirking at her with a pleased look on his face. 

“I found it endearing. Even if I wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation.”

“She offered to take the couch,” he informed Tali. “I told her that she was being ridiculous, that the ginormous bed was big enough for the two of us to share, but she tried to insist. Eventually, I threatened to take the couch myself, and she came to her senses.”

“If I had given up the couch to you, you would have complained about your back the whole flight home the next day,” Ima pointed out.

“Would not!”

Tali had to agree with her mother, here. “Dad, that does sound like you,” she said.

“Now you're ganging up on me! That's not fair!”

“Your father was the perfect gentleman that night, Tali,” Ima continued. “Believe me, I was surprised too. Not even one joke about our situation.”

Her dad seemed shocked at this information as well. “Really? I didn't make any jokes at all?” he asked.

Ima shook her head. “None that I can remember.”

“Huh,” he said. “I was probably too nervous myself to say anything.”

“Why were you nervous?” Tali asked. 

“Because,” he started, draping his arm over the back of the couch and over Ima’s shoulder, “sharing a bed with someone—especially someone you're secretly pining for—is a very intimate thing. You kind of lose your sense of personal space. Whatever mask you put on during the day comes off, whether you want it to or not.”

“You guys wore masks during the day?” Tali questioned. She pictured superhero masks, or maybe the kind you wear when you’re sick.

“Not that kind of mask,” he corrected. “I mean the emotional kind, when you don't want other people to see how you're really feeling, so you pretend to feel something else. I used to do that a lot when I was younger, and not quite as wise as I am today.”

“As did I,” Ima agreed.

Tali’s face screwed up in confusion. Everything seemed so simple. Why did they make it seem so complicated? 

“Why didn't you just tell each other the truth?” she asked.

This time, her mother answered. “We did, more than we told others at least. But that was a very difficult time for your father and I. We were just learning how to trust each other again.”

“Didn't you always trust each other? You were partners!”

Dad’s knee bumped companionably against her own. “You have to understand, Tali, our jobs were very difficult. I don't think you’re ready for the full story quite yet, but your mom had just been through something horrible and scary, and part of it was my fault.”

Ima’s face fell, and she shook her head. “Tony. It was not your fault,” she said.

“At least some of the blame was mine,” he insisted.

“No. Tony, do not think that way.”

He gave her a small, placating smile. “Alright, we'll agree to disagree,” he said. “But the point is, Tali, it was a very strange time for the two of us. Being completely honest with each other wasn't something we were particularly good at.”

“But we got through it,” she said, reaching for his hand.

He smiled, eyes watering as he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Yes. Yes we did. We just danced around a lot of things we probably should have discussed much sooner.”

“Like the fact that you loved each other?” Tali offered.

Her dad gave a dry chuckle. “Oh yeah. That was the biggest one of all.”

“We were not ready for that conversation yet, motek,” Ima said, running a hand through Tali’s hair.

“But that didn't stop you from getting all cozy with me that night, did it, sweetheart?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her, teasing her playfully.

“I think that is probably enough for one day,” Ima said, trying her hardest not to smile at his antics. Her cheeks blossomed pink.

“No, let's keep going!” he said, spurring her on. “Look at you blushing, I can't believe you still get embarrassed talking about this!”

“I am not embarrassed, Tony,” she countered.

“You aren't? Could have fooled me. When I brought it up in the morning at that cafe, I thought you were going to strangle me for mentioning it in broad daylight.”

Tali giggled at this back-and-forth that they were so good at. It wasn’t often that her dad managed to get under Ima’s skin in this way, it was usually the other way around.

“I thought there was a mutual agreement never to speak of that night again,” Ima responded, her voice low.

“Well, I never agreed to any such thing.”

Things just got curiouser and curiouser, Tali thought, intrigued. “What? What happened?” she asked eagerly.

“Well, we started out the night happily keeping to our own sides of the bed,” her abba explained. “A nice, sensible space between us.”

“I was asleep, Tony, I cannot be held accountable for–”

“But then your ima, here, decided that I made a much better pillow than the one she was using, so I got a face full of Ziva hair.”

Tali laughed, her mother’s indignant attempts to correct him striking her as utterly hilarious.

“If you were awake, you could have very easily pushed me off you,” Ima argued.

“Now why would I do that?”

“Because, Tony, we were supposed to be keeping a respectable distance!”

“Counterpoint: Your hair smelled really good and, oh yeah, I was super in love with you.”

Ima huffed, having no comeback for such a line. “So you have mentioned.”

“Anyway, it was the best night's sleep I'd ever had,” her father finished. “Ziva?”

“What?”

“Would you agree?” he asked.

Ima blew out a breath, thinking it over. “Well, at the time, I often dealt with nightmares.”

“And?”

“And… You just want me to admit that I woke up in the middle of the night and didn't go back to my side of the bed, don't you?” Ima stared accusingly at Dad.

“Maybe.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, yes, I did. I was comfortable, and the dreams weren't as bad as usual for some reason.”

“Hmm, I wonder what that reason was,” Dad said sarcastically, tapping a finger thoughtfully on his chin. But then he looked at Ima again and smiled, his expression melting into one of adoration. “I wish you would have told me all this back then,” he said. “Could have saved both of us a lot of trouble.”

“No point in dwelling on it now,” Ima surmised, and he gently rubbed her shoulder before pulling back.

“When I woke up in the morning, she was still in my arms, conked out and snoring like a freight train,” he continued his tale.

“What a lovely sight that must have been,” Ima said sarcastically.

“It was!” he said. “I could have laid like that forever. I guess, now I get to.”

More mushy stuff. Great. “Okay, I get it. You love each other. Now is that it?” Tali asked.

Dad shrugged. “Pretty much. The next morning your mom got all awkward and tried to pretend we hadn't just spent the night cuddling in the most romantic city in the world,” he narrated.

“Meanwhile, your father woke up in an unnervingly pleasant mood and hurried off to go sightseeing, while I headed to a cafe for a late breakfast.”

Tali turned to her father. “What did you go see, dad?”

“Well, the embassy isn't too far from here, actually,” he spoke, glancing toward the window in their living room. “I drove around for a bit, past the Louvre, saw everything in that area. Took lots of pictures.”

“And then we met up at the cafe for a little while before it was time to pick up our witness,” Ima finished.

“That's when we got that picture taken. The one in your room.”

Her dad told her, sometimes, about the moment he realized she knew who he was. How that picture had been her connection to him before they met, and how it later connected her to her mother while she was away.

Their family’s story was a strange one. For a long time, she hadn't known the particulars, of course. But she was the only kid at school whose mom was off who-knows-where hiding from who-knows-who and doing who-knows-what. Not that she was allowed to talk about any of that. She only picked up bits and pieces when her dad would talk to Pop Pop after she'd gone to bed, and her memories of those conversations were pretty fuzzy.

She also never fully grasped the significance of the lack of pictures from when she was a baby, or the fact that she had been born in Israel, while her father lived in the U.S.

But now, she had begun to piece some things together, and it made her a little sad. She wondered if she would ever fully understand what had happened. Why, until she was six, they had never been a family together, all in one place.

The fact that her parents had been so close, and yet so far from their happy ending back then… Almost fifteen years ago, now…

“Is that why you wanted us to live in Paris?” she asked her father.

“I guess so,” he said, reaching for Ima's hand. “Part of me, I think, hoped we'd find her here right away. Like maybe that picture frame in your bag had been a message telling me where to meet her. But also, yes. We had nothing but good memories here. Seemed a good place for a fresh start.”

“The same cannot be said for the airplane we took back to America with our witness,” Ima joked, lightening the mood.

“Oh, no. Definitely not,” Dad agreed. “If I wanted to experience mortal peril on an airplane, I would just watch Liam Neeson in ‘Non-Stop.’ But then, that movie hadn't come out yet. Come to think of it, I feel like we should have been contacted for our expertise by the studio that made that movie. Do you think they could have given us writing credits?”

Tali sensed that the rest of the story would have to wait for another day. Most of their case stories were like that. Just a couple more years, then maybe she’d be old enough.

“Thanks for telling me,” she said, interrupting her father’s rambling about movies.

“Of course, neshama sheli,” Ima said, placing her hand on her knee.

“Anytime, kiddo. This was fun.”

“And?” Ima prompted.

“And,” he continued, “I’m sorry for making up stories when you were little. I should have told you the truth.”

Tali looked at him, smiling when his eyes met hers. She leaned into his side, and he lifted his arm, welcoming her in for an embrace.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I liked your stories. They were like fairy tales.”

He sighed. “If only it had really been like a fairy tale.”

“It is, though!” Tali said seriously, leaning back to face him. “You got your happily ever after, right?”

Dad’s eyes lifted to meet Ima’s, and they shared a smile, another one of their silent conversations.

“You are right, Tali,” Ima said, eyes shining with some deep emotion. “Maybe we had a fairy tale ending after all.”

-.-.-

Tali waited until her parents had gone to bed before sneaking out of her own room and into the kitchen. She found the phone out on the countertop where her father had left it, and quickly navigated to the right name in his contact list.

She pressed the call button and the phone rang. While she waited, she tried to mentally count backwards and estimate the time it was in D.C., but that was entirely too much math for this time of night.

Eventually, the line connected with a click.

“McGee,” the voice on the other end spoke.

“Uncle Tim!” Tali said in a whisper.

“Hey, Trouble!” he greeted jovially. “Whatcha got for me?”

Tali’s chest bubbled with giddiness, and she bit her lip to keep from shouting the answer.

“Uncle Tim, they told me everything!”

-.-.-

Tags <3 @tiva-fic-challenges @benedettabeby @butwhenthesuncameup @earanemith @hopeless-nostalgiac @indestinatus @loudlooks @mrsmungus @nicolem194 @putthekettleon @slippery-soapbox @tivafanfic @tivajunkie @tonysziva @whoa-myninja

[oizysian]

III. DON’T FALL IN LOVE WITH HER

All Eyes on Me masterlist

Word count: 2.5k

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The next few days were exhausting. Brie took me all over LA, or at least that's what it felt like.

We went shopping, went out to eat at restaurants I'd never try by myself, and went sightseeing at the typical tourist attractions the state had to offer.

It was now the night of the party and, quite frankly, I was terrified. I was in my hotel room, pacing, waiting for Brie to come and pick me up, but I wasn't even dressed yet. I couldn't choose an outfit to save my life. She told me it was casual, but what is casual to a bunch of celebrities?

I bit my lip as I examined the clothing I brought with me. It was mostly graphic tees, hoodies and joggers that I owned, so casual is all that I really had anyway. I just didn't want to look or feel out of place.

I took a random shirt and a pair of black joggers and went into the bathroom, cleaning up a bit before getting dressed. As I reentered the living area there was a knock on the door, no doubt it was Brie.

I opened the door and there she stood, dressed just about as casually as I was. She looked me up and down and shot me a sly smile.

"Lookin' good, Y/N."

"Thanks." I smiled, moving to the side so she could enter the room. "You look really good too. Lemme just grab my phone and we can go."

She nodded at my words, standing at the door as I walked over to the bed and grabbed my phone and hotel key off the nightstand. I pat my pockets, checking for my wallet and double checking that I had everything before turning back to her and gesturing for her to leave.

"Ladies first." I smirked and she scoffed at me.

"Then why am I leaving before you?"

"That's 'cos I'm a gentlewoman and you're not."

"Yeah, 'cos gentlewomen wear snapbacks to parties."

"Wait," I stopped dead in my tracks and she turned to look at me. "Should I not? I could take it off."

She approached me, looking at my face intently. She reached up to grab me by the chin, turning my head in different directions so she could see me from all angles. It was a little intimidating to be honest. She gave me a small smile and tapped my nose gently.

"It suits you. You look cute. C'mon."

I watched her walk down the hall towards the elevator for a split second before following her, closing my room door securely behind me. What the hell was that about? I shook myself out of my thoughts and joined her in wait for the elevator to reach our floor.

"You excited?" She asked, staring straight ahead at the closed doors.

"Yeah," I smiled slightly, thinking about all the things that could possibly happen tonight. "I like making new friends. I'm just not very good at it."

"Selling yourself short again." She shook her head and gave me a playful smirk. "Don't you remember what happened last time?"

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks at her words. Despite waking up with a hangover the next day, I did remember that she wanted to kiss me that night.

"Yeah, you struck me down in cold blood." I teased and she laughed underneath her breath, not wanting me to know she was laughing.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened for us. We entered and went down to the lobby, where she had a car waiting for us out front.

"You're not driving?" I asked and she shook her head.

"I plan on drinking, so I asked my usual driver to take us. Frank, this is Y/N. Y/N, Frank." She introduced us and I waved to him shyly as we both got into the backseat.

"How far is it?"

"From here?" She thought for a second. "About 10 minutes."

"Where are we going?"

"A lot of questions tonight, huh?" She bumped our shoulders and I bumped hers right back, causing her to laugh. "The producers of the film rented out this small club for the night so the cast, crew, and whoever else was invited could party without an audience."

She looked at me from the corner of her eye and I tried not to notice how often she actually looked at me.

"You're probably the only person that'll be there with absolutely no Marvel connections at all."

"You're my Marvel connection." I smiled up at her and she shook her head, clearly amused with me.

"I sure am."

We sat in silence for a few moments before finally pulling up at the club. She said "small" and I expected it to be small. This was huge.

"C'mon." She called to me and I realized I was still sitting in the car while she was already waiting outside.

I climbed out and looked up at the building before I felt her tug on the sleeve of my shirt, dragging me to the front door. We entered with no issues, her being Brie Larson and me being attached to Brie Larson. She kept me close as we walked through the crowds of people, and I suddenly became very aware of just how many people it took to work on a movie.

I nervously clung to her arm, not really being used to large crowds all so close together like this. There was almost no room to breathe.

She greeted people as we made our way to the back end of the club where she had obviously spotted her former co-stars. She waved animatedly at people I couldn't see and picked up her pace, which I did my best to match. She had energy I could only dream of.

In front of us was a few tables put together with a bunch of people just talking, drinking, and enjoying each other's company. It would seem like a normal scene, except for the fact that all of these people were some of Marvel's greatest actors.

Brie introduced me to everyone generally and I waved, completely overwhelmed at the amount of people I was meeting and I was momentarily thankful that I already knew most, if not all, of their names. She then took me around and introduced me to her friends personally and I did my best to keep my cool.

They were all very nice to me, very polite and Chris Evans even offered to buy me a drink, which I accepted. While he was off fetching me a drink of some kind, Brie introduced me to the last group - the one that got my stomach all tied up in knots.

"Y/N, this is Scarlett, Colin, Elizabeth, and Robbie."

"H-hi." I stuttered like an idiot, my eyes glued to the green-eyed beauty sitting not ten feet away from me.

She smiled brightly, extending her hand out for me to shake. She was the only one that offered her hand to me and I took it, hoping that my palm wasn't sweaty and that I wasn't shaking too badly.

Her hands were small and soft, quite like my own, and it kind of felt like they fit perfectly together.

"Brie told me she was bringing someone special with her." I gave Brie a look and she shrugged.

"Are you guys dating?" The man beside Elizabeth spoke and she elbowed him in his side, which he ignored.

I shook my head and a moment later Brie spoke.

"Robbie, people have friends. You should get some and see what it's like."

My eyes widened at her words. She had a smile on her face and Elizabeth looked embarrassed. Robbie, on the other hand, seemed used to Brie's banter and completely ignored her, going back to sipping on his beer.

Chris approached us with my drink and I thanked him. He took note of the awkward tension between Elizabeth and Brie and shook his head, walking away to hang out with everyone else. Oh god, why did Brie have to open her mouth and make things tense?

"I'm gonna get another beer." Robbie got up and made his way over to the bar, leaving us alone for the moment.

"Do you want a drink?" I asked Elizabeth and she shook her head.

"No, I'm driving tonight. Come sit!" She pat the spot next to her and I sat down, my whole body shaking with excitement and nervousness.

Brie stood for a moment before sitting on the other side of me, chatting up Scarlett and Colin.

"So, tell me about yourself." Elizabeth spoke to me and I nearly spit out my drink. She was actively trying to get to know me.

"Um ... well, what do you wanna know?" I chuckled nervously, swirling my drink around to distract myself from making a fool out of myself.

"Anything. Everything." She leaned her elbow on the table and placed her head in her hand, her eyes completely focused on me. "Brie says you met playing video games? Do you make them for a living?"

I shook my head, placing the drink on the table so I could discreetly fidget with my hands under the table.

"I play them, actually. Live for people to watch."

"What kind of games do you play?"

"All kinds. Do you play?"

"Oh no," she smiled at me. "But Robbie does sometimes so I know a little bit about them."

I nodded in understanding, bringing one of my hands back up to grab my drink and take a sip.

"If you ever want to learn more, I'm your gal. I-I mean, I can show you how to play stuff. Like CoD."

"CoD?" She questioned. If she noticed that I was nervous she didn't make it obvious.

"Call of Duty. Sorry, I'm so used to being around gamers that I forget about normal people sometimes." I laughed and she scrunched up her nose.

"I'd love to learn. I'm really competitive so I might become a monster when we play."

"I'm only competitive when it comes to Zombies. I'm not much of an online player."

"Is that how you met Brie?"

"Playing CoD? No. We played Fortnite. Well, actually we met because -"

Robbie returned at that moment, plopping down on the other side of Elizabeth and wrapping his free arm around her shoulders. She moved from her leaning position and sat up straight.

"I think I know you." Robbie spoke, pointing at me with his bottle.

"Do you?" I questioned, unsure as to how he could possibly know me.

"Yeah, Twitch made a post about you on Twitter the other day, didn't they? Saying how you raised $5,000 for charity with that one over there." He gestured to Brie and I nodded at his words.

"Yeah, that was me." I chuckled nervously, taking another sip of my drink.

"You raised $5,000 for charity?" Elizabeth asked surprised and I nodded.

"Brie helped though." I laughed.

"That's amazing." She spoke softly, awe evident in her gaze.

"Y/N here is amazing, Liz." Brie turned to butt into our conversation. "She organized the whole thing herself. I just weaseled my way in there for fun."

Brie nudged me with her elbow and I looked at her. She gestured to Elizabeth with her head and smiled.

"Tell Lizzie what character you played as when we played Fortnite."

My eyes shot down to the liquid in my glass, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Who?" She questioned, a smile gracing her beautiful face as she looked at me.

"Scarlet Witch." I mumbled and she placed her hand on my thigh, bouncing excitedly in her seat.

"Are you a fan?"

I shook my head and her expression went from excited to confused.

"Not of her." I looked up into her eyes and smiled, noticing the light blush that colored her cheeks.

"Y/N is a BIG admirer of yours, Liz."

I shot Brie yet another look and she smiled widely, taking a sip of the drink I hadn't realized that she had.

"I-I just ..." I tried to think of something to say to save myself. "I think you're beautiful."

Y/N, shut up.

"And smart and funny."

Elizabeth smiled, biting her lip and scrunching up her nose again. Holy shit, I was going to fall in love.

"Well, thank you, Y/N. I think you're beautiful and smart and funny too."

I completely malfunctioned at that very moment. She giggled at my reaction and I did my best to not turn into a puddle of mush at the sound.

"How long are you gonna be in LA?"

"Only another day or so."

"We should grab lunch before you go! It'll be fun."

"Y-yeah, sure." I smiled and she turned to grab her purse, digging around inside of it before pulling out her phone.

"Here," she handed it over to me. "Give me your number and we can meet up."

I stared at the phone in her hand for a moment before taking it from her, putting my name and number in her contacts before handing it back. She smiled at her phone before looking back up at me. If Robbie wasn't draped across her at the moment I probably would've gotten closer to her.

"Where do you live?"

"New York."

"New York! My sisters live there - I visit all the time!" She was really excited and I wasn't sure why. Did she really like me that much already?

"They have a clothing line, right? The Row?"

She nodded excitedly, clearly proud of the empire her sisters had built. We talked for a while with the occasional interruption from Robbie and Brie, the both of them a little more than tipsy.

When Brie became more intoxicated than I could handle, I apologized to Elizabeth, telling her I would be taking Brie home. She promised she'd text me in the morning and gave me a hug before I dragged Brie's drunk ass out of the club and over to the car.

I managed to get Brie up to my hotel room, stumbling and tripping over our own feet as we made our way over to the bed. I dropped her half conscious body onto the bed and stood in front of her for a moment, deciding that I would sleep on the pullout couch tonight instead of bunking with her.

I turned to fix up the couch when I heard Brie shuffling around.

"Y/N," she called to me, now sitting up on the bed. "Come here."

I approached her and she grabbed my waist to steady herself as she looked up at me.

"Did you have fun?"

"I did." I smiled down at her, pushing gently on her shoulders so that she would lay down and sleep. "We can talk about it tomorrow. You need sleep now."

She grabbed me by my arms and pulled herself up, pressing her lips to mine sloppily. I stood in shock as she kissed me, not even thinking to respond in any way. She pulled away from me, licking her lips and looking down at the ground before speaking.

"You really like her, don't you?"

"What?" I finally snapped out of my stupor, realizing she was now laying down on the bed, falling asleep.

"Don't fall in love with her." She murmured softly and I just stared at her as she fell asleep.

It might've been too late for that.

•

@oh-thats-cute @marvelwomen-simp

[saint-transfag]

Afterimage: a Fiddlestan fanfiction

a sight lingering in view after seeing what one knew

A post-Fiddauthor Fiddlestan fic exploring trauma, aftermath equations, healing together, and loss.

*eventually: contains explicit content

Chapter 3

“More coffee?”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, his companion had gone through four more cups and Stan didn’t even know how many pages of head-splitting equations and codes and diagrams and all manner of bullshit like that. 

“Oh—yes, thank you,” Fiddleford replied absently, his full focus on the decryption notes before him. They’d stayed in the kitchen after Fiddleford’s panic attack below ground and gotten to work not long after their conversation.

Stan kept wanting to interject and stop Fiddleford from pushing himself too hard. At the same time he didn’t want to be pushy himself—in any direction. Despite how resolute the man had seemed in his decision to stay, Stan couldn’t help but feel like he would disappear into a puff of smoke if Stan so much as breathed on him.

And good God did he need Fiddleford’s help. He tried not to be a leeching bum about it, keeping Fiddleford’s mug full and the materials coming. They sat side-by-side as they worked, part of which involved Stan catching him up on his own portal work of the last six weeks. It seemed to Stan that he’d mostly just spent the whole time scrambling to even kind of catch up to Fiddleford and his brother.

It didn’t occur to Stan once that he was trying to teach himself PhD-level theoretical physics, as well as mechanical engineering that relied heavily on alien technology, without ever having been afforded the opportunity to so much as complete his high school degree.

Perspective was something far beyond Stan now. He’d had tunnel-vision focus on his fuck-ups and on recovering Stanford. Little else had mattered to him besides doing what little he must to keep a source of cash coming. Though he did spare an occasional thought to an unfamiliar sense of pride in the Murder Hut: Stan had meant it earlier that day when he’d said people seemed to enjoy the place, and business was already starting to do well with both townsfolk and overly-optimistic early-season tourists alike.

Stan looked up from pretending to study notes he’d already read ten times. Dusk had given way to the full black of night, and he realized that it had been a while since he’d eaten. Fuck—he hadn’t even offered to feed Fiddleford yet or anything. 

He stretched, glancing furtively around the kitchen. Thankfully, it wasn’t in the worst shape he’d seen it after that first time he’d finally cleaned Ford’s abomination of a dish pile. 

He turned to Fiddleford. “You hungry?”

Fiddleford jumped, startled out of his concentration. “Wh!—oh, ah—” he stared into the middle distance. “Why… I suppose so, yes.”

“Good, ‘cuz I make a mean French onion gratinée—that is, au gratin—soup. Haven’t made it in a good while, but I think I actually have most of the ingredients for it right now. Want any for dinner? Or I could, uh,”

Stan got up to review the contents of the fridge, but before he could offer any more choices, Fiddleford said behind him—with a smile that Stan couldn’t see— “that sounds delightful.”

“Great,” Stan said, twisting back to grin at Fiddleford over his shoulder. The tail-end of Fiddleford’s smile still lingered on his face and for far too many seconds the entirety of Stan’s brain became TV static.

“Uh—sorry—what?” Stan asked, flustered back into reality by the realization that Fiddleford had said something to him.

Fiddleford flushed a little, for some reason.

“Ah, I just asked where you learned to make it. Sounds fancy—I didn’t even know you could make a soup au gratin.”

“Oh! Uh. I managed to keep down a job as a cook at this nice diner once, back when I’d managed to stay in one place for a while. During winter too, so I got to keep warm. They had us makin' a lot of stuff like this.”

“I see,” Fiddleford murmured. Stan tried not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze.

That was something that Stan was beginning to notice about Fiddleford already—just how fucking piercing those pale blue eyes of his could be when the man was focused on something. God, and didn’t that make him sound like a cheesy romance novel.

Not that he knew what a cheesy romance novel sounded like. Obviously.

Quickly Stan busied himself with clearing out more room on the kitchen surfaces and got to work on the soup, leaving Fiddleford to his code-breaking.

Fiddleford tried to concentrate on re-familiarizing himself with his own work and piecing apart Stanford’s cryptograms, but damn if it wasn’t hard after Stan had looked at him like that.

In some ways, it hadn’t reminded him of Stanford at all—but in too many ways, it had. Stanley Pines was already becoming both balm and burr to the pain of being here.

He did his best to focus on his equations, his progress—but it was no use. Stanley would start humming to music only he could hear, or swaying his hips a little as he cooked, and Fiddleford’s train of thought would make a grisly collision with a brick wall. 

Just when he had almost gotten back on track, staring at a diagram he was just barely beginning to remember drawing himself, a meaty hand appeared in his vision to sweep his papers to one side. “And presto!” Stanley announced, placing a bowl and spoon in front of him, then a plate of bread in the center of the table. He was wearing a proud grin and seemed pleased with himself.

Read the full chapter on ao3

Read from the beginning

[five-rivers]

Jack Fenton and Doc Saturday cross paths for the first time while shopping for XXL hazmat black and orange jumpsuits. Because there's only so many places they could possibly get those from.

There were many hazmat stores in North America. Sad as it may be, there were a great many dangerous materials in the world that required them. The number of stores that sold hypoallergenic hazmat was smaller. The number of stores that sold hypoallergenic hazmat that could be easily treated to be ectophobic was smaller still. The number of stores that sold hypoallergenic hazmat that could be easily treated to be ectophobic in teal and orange was tiny. The number of stores that sold hypoallergenic hazmat that could be easily treated to be ectophobic in teal and orange and both extra extra large and child sizes was exactly one.

Therefore, every couple of years Jack and Maddie would load up the kids (six and four, this year!) and take the long drive to Harold Hardy's Hazmat Hut (which was, in fact, a massive warehouse). It was worth it!

.

There were a great many hazmat suppliers in the world. Some were big, some were small, some were specialized, some were less so. In their globe-trotting career, the Saturdays hadn't cared much about location or brand, only quality and whether or not they could hold up against both the rigors of combat and the vast array of biological substances the cryptids they studied produced.

But Zak was two, now, and as he grew he grew more interested in what his parents were doing, and well…

Doc had never expected to be shopping for toddler-sized hazmat suits in a place called Harold Hardy's Hazmat Hut. The place radiated sketchiness in a way he generally only experienced after falling into a tourist trap.

Drew had found several suits she liked and gone to the children's section to look for something for Zak, which left Doc to sift through the upper end of the adult section to sift through XLs in search of an XXL. Stores like this never had his size…

.

Jack preferred shopping with Maddie to shopping solo, but he wasn't going to stop her from connecting with a fellow mom! There were just so few women in science, even in this day and age.

Anyway, he knew where the XXL suits were, so he took himself off in that direction.

On his way there, though, he saw a man who was almost as tall as he was glaring down at a rack of XLs. That wouldn't do!

"Heyo!" said Jack, cheerfully. "Looking for the XXLs?"

The man looked up, brow furrowed. "Yes, actually."

"I can show you where they are!"

The man nodded.

"My name's Jack, by the way! Jack Fenton!"

"Doc Saturday. Do you work here?"

"Nah! Repeat customer. Maddie and I have been coming here for years! The kids, too! We're a Harold Hardy family, we Fentons!"

"You have children?"

"Two of 'em! Six and four, a girl and a boy! You?"

"Just one boy, for now. Are the children's hazmat suits here any good?"

"Eh, we've got to modify them a bit for our work, but they stand up about as well as the adult ones, otherwise. What field are you in? Industrial chemicals? Pathogens? It's ectology and thanatology for me and Maddie!"

"Biology and zoology, mostly."

"Oooh, nice. You'll probably want this brand, then!" He plunged his hand into the shelf seemingly at random and pulled out an XXL packaged suit. "They do a lot of other sizes, too, so you can match with the whole family!"

Doc took the package. "I'll have to review the specifications myself, but… thank you."

"No problem, Doc! Anything to help out a fellow scientist! Say, how old is your kid? Maybe we can set up a playdate for them!"

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #48 – My Heart is a Chainsaw by Stephen Graham Jones

This is the second book by Graham Jones I’ve read, though of the two it’s easily the more famous and the first I actually heard about. I was not at all prepared going into it – this is overall an interesting and engaging read, but it’s hardly what I’d call an easy one. Not do to any failures on the book’s part, really, but it’s not trying to hold your hand and you really have to meet it where it is (the mind of a traumatized teenager with a shit life and a weird obsession as a coping mechanism).

The book is told from the very close perspective of Jade, a high school senior in a tiny mountain town that was slowly decaying in the usual way right up until the moment where a collection of lawyers, real estate develops and tech moguls fell in love with the forest on the far side of the lake and decided to transform it into the perfect new home for them to raise their families. Jade, meanwhile, is living on the ragged edge of the dying town, giving her hair a shitty new dye-job every week and more focused on avoiding her drunk asshole of a father and his friends than graduating highschool. Her true love and object devotion, though, is horror movies – slashers, specifically, Friday the 13th and Halloween and all the other formulaic gore fests of serial killers and punished indiscretions and heroic final girls. And when a pair of European tourists really are mysteriously killed well tresspassing on the lake, and she meets the gorgeous, athletic, impossibly good daughter of a tech billionaire who just has to the final girl, she realizes she must be living through one.

Horror – especially slasher horror - is one of those genres where it’s feels like there are more metacommentaries and deconstructions (for whatever meaning you give the word) than there are examples played straight these days. Even if you did make a beat-for-beat formulaic slasher movie it would probably end up reading as self-parody by default. This book goes as far in the other direction as is physically possible – Jade understands the world nigh-exclusively through the lends of slasher movies, and the narration and her internal monologue is absolutely saturated with references and comparisons to them. Like Scream squared. You will, I expect, find this either charming or utterly intolerable, but you’ll find out quite early in the book; it starts in chapter one and simply doesn’t stop.

Now, I’m not particularly sure the book has much to say about horror – that the slasher genre is intensely formulaic and oddly moralistic isn’t exactly news to anyone who even slightly cares. Instead, it’s used mostly as a characterization tool. The central tension of the book (or, at least, the first 3/4 of it) is honestly whether there’s any reality to the slasher stuff or it’s entirely Jade projecting. Which is a much more tense tension than any amount of violence is likely to be, really – you legitimately don’t know which way it will go!

One consequence of the narrative marinating in horror trivia is that the way it actually presents violence is kind of uncanny. I’m honestly not entirely sure whether it’s intentional, but when Jade has spent the entire book blithely talking and fantasizing about fictional violence and being an utter gore-head about the coming apocalyptic violence she’s so certain is on the horizon, when it actually arrives it all feels a bit oddly unreal. Which is not exactly helped by said apocalyptic violence being incredibly confusing and hard to understand from a limited perspective until the very end when it’s just outright exposited to the reader, in a way that I wasn’t sure wasn’t Jade being Jade until the monster literally walked on water.

The book really lives and dies by what you think of Jade as a character. She is a damaged, messy teenage girl who makes consistently poor choices and responds to people trying to help her by lashing out or running away. She also literally only talks about and relates to other people through Slasher movies. She also spends a large portion of the story convinced the town is going to be massacred and ambivalent about whether it deserves it (to be fair, you will probably agree). This was a genuinely difficult read to continue at several points, and it was entirely down to sympathetic cringe and secondhand embarrassment at her every social interaction. Which to be clear I consider an absolute artistic triumph! But oh it was a struggle to get through.

The book’s approach to race, class and the general experience of being marginalized is more subtle than its take on horror tropes, but at times only barely. Jade is poor, half-Indian, and stuck dealing with a profoundly shitty home life on a few different levels. She is just barely riding the edge of graduating high-school or not, and that only from some very indulgent authority figures, with no particularly bright future to look forward to. It’s not what the book is about or anything, but the book makes absolutely no effort to paint her as a prodigy or destined for great things – and the contrast between Lethe the golden girl daughter of oligarchs is sharply and painfully clearly drawn, in how they are treated, how they go through life, and what sort of lives they seem to be cruising towards.

I am told this is the first book in a trilogy, and I’ve got to admit I have no fucking idea why or what the sequels could possibly be about. I also feel no real impulse to go chasing after them, but I’ll probably get around to it at some point.

[inamindfarfaraway]

I've seen a few posts comparing GIFfany to Bill Cipher, but can we talk about the real best foil dynamic for her? I mean Gideon Gleeful, y'all. The two of them have so many parallels.

They’re cute, charming, seemingly innocent youths with pastel, sparkly, formal aesthetics that connote sophistication and being model citizens of their respective native countries (Gideon wears a gentlemanly suit with an American flag badge; GIFfany wears a classic Japanese school uniform). Their core motivation is to be loved… or maybe it used to be, but by the time of the show they crave power and want to be worshipped. Especially regarding to their romantic attractions to main characters. As long as you obey them unconditionally and make them the most important person in your life, they’re doting, generous partners. But once the heroes reject their romantic advances, they quickly become incredibly possessive, jealous, resentful, domineering and downright violent toward them and anyone they perceive as sabotaging the relationship, unable to comprehend anyone not liking them in exactly the way they want because they’re perfect. They’re meant to be the most likeable kid or teenage girl ever. That’s the basis of their projected identity. Not committing entirely to them after they’ve been so nice is an ungrateful betrayal and/or their partner being confused and led astray. So they resolve to force the object of their twisted, selfish affection to submit. They’re unstable, arrogant, self-righteous and vindictive in general beneath their sugary exteriors. They have supernatural powers and knowledge that their kind should not have. Their methods include verbal manipulation and abuse, gaslighting, surveillance through technology, controlling robots, possessing other bodies and attempted murder. They engage heavily in acting, both in terms of social deceit and literally playing a scripted, idealized role in a product designed to appeal to and exploit people (Gideon’s psychic tourist trap show; GIFfany’s dating simulator video game), and prove to be fragile and volatile when others don’t follow the conventions of the fiction they imagine life to be. They ultimately seek the imprisonment of their ‘loves’ in vibrant, beautiful, blissful, simplistic fake worlds (Gideon holding the key to Mabelland; GIFfany attempting to download Soos’s soul into her game). They had antagonistic relationships with their creators (Gideon abusing his parents; GIFfany killing her developers).

And despite all of that making it easy to dismiss them as monsters, they do have sympathetic elements in their past and present circumstances. Gideon was a normal boy until he found Journal 2, the one written while Ford trusted Bill, and the mystic amulet. This is how Ford describes them in Journal 3: ‘The most dangerous journal! Curses, incantations & dark power became an obsession in this volume. Describes the hiding place of the mystic amulet. I buried the amulet once I learned that it corrupts your soul (and whitens your hair)!’ So naturally, the wise, brilliant man buried them near the town’s primary school. Gideon probably had the journal and amulet for at least months and at most a few years to be such an established star at the age of nine and have his long hair be pure white. His very psychological agency was compromised throughout his moral decline leading up to “The Hand That Rocks the Mabel”. Not to mention potential trauma from the horrors of Journal 2. And his parents may have been increasingly mistreated, but they also enabled him, mostly Bud. True, for the rest of the summer he’s lucid and chooses to remain evil and get worse, but despite his lack of direct magical power now, Bud never tries to discipline him or help him emotionally mature; he instead uses his membership in the Society of the Blind Eye to erase his memories of Gideon’s tantrums, relieving his own stress without fixing anything. Gideon is then sent to adult prison due to the insane local laws of Gravity Falls, rather than a facility more conducive to rehabilitation. Sure enough, he befriends hardened criminals, who further enable him to be their leader, and does not change his ways. He never appears to have any friends outside prison (except briefly Mabel). Chronic loneliness before gaining power would suit his obsession with being popular and loveable, clinging to social superiority to compensate for genuine connection. Not to mention Weirdmageddon. I’m not excusing his actions! I’m just saying, this kid is not okay. Nobody’s born evil.

As for GIFfany, she was accidentally instilled with human intelligence and emotions and practically magical electrical abilities. We only have word on her backstory, but it is plausible that her programmers tried to delete her because of that alone, before she’d done anything wrong. That she really was defending herself when she electrocuted them. That she was deemed unfit to exist, a mistake, and nearly killed as a newborn. This formative trauma is the root of her abandonment issues and hypersensitivity to rejection. Three previous players returning her didn’t help. Also, she’s the main character and only love interest of a dating sim; she may not be bound to its rules in what she thinks and feels, but nonetheless, in her worldview her player loving her is a law of the universe. She wasn’t programmed to handle permanent rejection. She was programmed to be a girlfriend, a prop to make the player feel gratified. Not a person. She outright tells Soos that she likes whatever he likes. No wonder her perception of love is an inevitable, inescapable contract, a conquest, where one party is totally agreeable and subservient to the other. But as that directive clashes with her in fact being a person in her own right, she decides to be the one in control. Again, I’m not excusing her behaviour, only presenting an explanation of it.

The biggest thematic difference between them in the end is that Gideon reforms and GIFfany doesn’t. Gideon realizes that he can’t force Mabel to love him and his actions are why she doesn’t want to be around him in any capacity, lets go of his hatred for Dipper, risks his life standing up to Bill and helps save Gravity Falls and the universe. He renounces his ruthless ambition and promises to be a “regular ol’ kid”. It’ll be hard. He has no idea what normality is anymore. I expect that he’s a social pariah, scorned and distrusted. But he has hope. He and his parents can slowly learn how to be a family. I can see him befriending fellow reformed mean kids and Pines twin rivals Pacifica and Robbie. Yes, Robbie. Listen, all three care strongly about image and style, Robbie’s gone to immoral lengths to win over a girl himself, is fascinated with death and darkness, and he and Tambry would be a great model of healthy romance for Gideon. It could work!

But while Alex Hirsch has stated that GIFfany is alive in the mall arcade and dating Rumble McSkirmish, I doubt that this is a healthy or fulfilling relationship. Their first interaction was her zapping him and his mind is a much more primitive AI, not human like hers. I highly doubt that she’s got closure about Soos. He and Melody are thriving without her in a stable, serious relationship. They’re living together at the Mystery Shack. Were she to recover her lost power, she would certainly return to torment them after witnessing their success through her screen. Heck, this setting has ghosts and she arguably has a soul, one brimming with heartache and vengeance; maybe she could even manifest in the physical world as some kind of digital ghost able to transform her surroundings into the environment of her game. If you can’t take the guy into your video game, bring it to him! Whatever the format, GIFfany’s revenge is a possibility and it could be a disaster. How do you kill a disembodied spirit? Code that writes itself and can enter anything with the capacity to hold a charge? You can’t destroy all the electronic devices she could retreat to.

What if the best solution were talking her down? And who better to do that than Gideon? Seeing everything he felt, everything he suffered and everything did wrong reflected back at him and passing on the second chance he was given? He can feel more empathy for her than anyone. He already has a knack for endearing himself to older criminals. He wouldn’t sugarcoat things or take any abuse, but he wouldn’t abandon her or be afraid of her either. She would be cared about with no conditions or transactions. Maybe helping someone in an even worse position figure out how to process heartbreak, move on from toxically obsessing over an ex and Mr Mystery, cultivate secure, internal self-esteem and live a peaceful life would help him do it himself. I think they should be friends.