#my brain has overloaded with this wonderful plane

[trammellesstangent-planes]

747747747747747747747747747747

747!

AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaAaa

[jflemings]

— she looks so perfect

pairing: ucla!jessie fleming x ucla!reader / self titled series

synopsis: jessie’s moving to london and she has every intention of taking you with her

warnings: mentions of a rocky familial relationship

a/n: 5sos was the first fandom i was ever in and their self titled album will forever hold a very special place in my heart, so here’s this fic in honour of it being almost 11 years since i first saw the band live :’)

୧ ‧₊˚ 🌹 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Let's get out, let's get out / 'Cause this deadbeat town's only here just to keep us down / While I was out / I found myself alone, just thinkin' / If I showed up with a plane ticket / And a shiny diamond ring with your name on it / Would you wanna run away too? / 'Cause all I really want is you

jessie’s so stupidly in love with you that it’s ridiculous.

it’s a wonder she’s even gotten as far as she has in her career, because all she thinks of all day, every day is you you you.

she knew from the moment teagan introduced the two of you that she’d be at your mercy for the rest of her life. she knew that it didn’t matter if she never made a move, you would follow her and plague her brain until the end of time.

it was the unwavering, immovable feelings that drove her to the door of your dorm room at two in the morning during freshman year finals week. she had been cramming and completely overloading her brain with so much information that she snapped. in her unrested and borderline delirious mind, the best time to confess her feelings to you was during one of the most stressful weeks of the year.

she had banged her knee against her desk when she stood after having the genius revelation, waking teagan up from where she was hunched over her psychology textbook. she had merely told her roommate and friend that she ‘had something important to tell you’ before marching her ass straight to you.

her nerve never faulted, even after you opened the door looking both ridiculously sleep deprived and gorgeous as ever. you couldn’t even get a word in before she was spilling her guts.

“i really like you” jessie says with wide eyes “and i’m well aware that this probably isn’t the best time to tell you this, but the lack of sleep is getting to me and, unfortunately, i have found myself here”

you nod along to her word vomit, taking it all in and processing what you can. you cock your head and smile “it’s about time fleming” you say teasingly “i’ve been waiting for you to make a move all year”

jessie gawks at you “excuse me?”

“yeah. i didn’t want to say anything because i figured that you’d come to me when you were ready” you take a long sip of your coffee before continuing “didn’t think it would take you this long though”

“you knew i liked you all along and didn’t say anything? how could you let me embarrass myself like that!” she groans as she wipes a hand down her face “jesus” she mumbles.

you shake your head “it wasn’t embarrassing, jess. i thought it was cute the way you’d tell teags and olivia to shut up everytime they made jokes about it when they thought i wasn’t listening”

“yeah. awesome” she grumbles more to herself then to you.

checking your watch, your eyebrows crease “i’m gonna head to bed but come grab me for coffee tomorrow morning? we can get bagels from that place you like”

jessie’s head shoots up in shock “what? like a date?”

“yes, jess. like a date” you smile crookedly

“okay” she says smiling before beginning to step back “how’s ten sound?”

“ten sounds perfect”

that date eventually led her here, in your shared apartment staring at a ring. she’d put any money she could spare away to get it for you and although it wasn’t anything glamorous with a big rock, it was something that she knew you’d like. the canadian had been waiting for the perfect moment to propose to you, but since signing her first professional contract with chelsea, she’d been running out of time.

she fiddles with the box in her hand as she sits on the end of your bed. her thoughts are so loud that she almost doesn’t hear the front door slam and you curse as you make your way to the bedroom. she scrambles to dive over to her side of the bed, messing up the made sheets, as she hastily puts the box in her bedside table. the drawer slams at the same time you open the door.

jessie turns to face you, a cheesy grin on her face as your sentence dies on your tongue.

you cock your head “what are you doing?”

“nothing!” she says all too quickly as she sits up “what are you doing?”

“figuring out how to tell my mother that she doesn’t run my life” you sniffle and drop your bag.

jessie stands quickly and walks towards you, already grabbing your face and wiping the few stray tears that have fallen. she hadn’t noticed that you were crying when she first saw you, but your red rimmed, slightly puffy eyes, tell her that you started before you even walk through the door.

“what happened?” she asks as she guides you to sit on the bed

“she just—” you groan and furiously wipe at your eyes “she just doesn’t get it! she still treats me like a clueless kid who doesn’t know what they want in life. she says that my degree isn’t gonna get me anywhere and that i should just quit while i’m ahead and get a real job”

jessie frowns and tenderly pulls your hands away from your face so you don’t make your eyes more irritated. she holds your hands delicately in her lap and guides your head to rest on her shoulder. you turn into the crook of her neck and sniffle some more.

“and she thinks that you moving to london is even more of a reason for me to go back home” you mumble against the skin of jessie’s neck “it’s so stupid”

“just come with me” she blurts out.

your head shoots up from the crook of her neck, eyes wide and jaw hung “what?”

jessie gulps “i said just come with me. to london”

“jessie are you crazy?”

“no!” there’s a pause “not really” she mumbles.

“i— are you fucking with me right now?” you ask in complete disbelief.

the topic of jessie’s move had been mostly avoided by the two of you because of the uncertainty surrounding the future of your relationship. you both knew that you wanted to stay together, but long distance was scary, and the both of you were still young.

“no” she answers with a little more confidence “i want you to come to london with me. i want to make a life with you that no one else can interfere in, i want to take the next step in my life with you.”

silence rolls over the two of you and doubt starts settling in jessie’s mind. maybe you weren’t ready for that with her, maybe you didn’t even want to continue being with her, maybe this was a bad time, or too soon, or maybe she’d read it all wrong and you actually were considering going home. maybe—

“okay” you breathe “okay. i’ll come to london”

jessie’s eyes go wide “seriously?”

“seriously” you nod.

she jumps up in front of you like she’s going to run somewhere before she stops. her eyes dart to her bedside table over your shoulder before quickly looking back at you.

you look over your shoulder “what was that”

“what was what” she rushes out, still unmoving.

“that look, what was that look?”

“look? what look? no look”

the two of you stare at eachother for a moment, both not speaking as you try to wordlessly figure out what jessie could be hiding. she’s still standing in a half bent over position with her feet pointing opposite directions like an idiot, and you think she resembles a cornered animal.

your eyes flick to the side of you and you make the split second decision to throw caution to the wind and dive to her bedside table.

“no! wait!” jessie shouts as she dives after you, but she’s too late. by the time she’s looming over you from behind, you’ve already got her bedside drawer open.

you hear her suck in a sharp breath from above you.

slowly, you pull out the black velvet ring box that looks back at you. it’s sitting on top of a half-read book, a stack of post it notes and jessie’s old broken phone charger. it’s a stark contrast to the disorganised mess that is jessie’s bedside table.

you pull it out and pop it open slowly, revealing a simple silver band with a small diamond. you gasp “jessie”

jessie sighs and sits back on her knees, allowing you to sit up with one leg thrown over the edge of the bed.

“it’s not— i wasn’t—” jessie tries to explain, but the words keep dying in her throat. she sighs again “you weren’t meant to see that”

you look up at her “when did you get this?”

“i don’t know, a couple months ago maybe?” she rubs the back of her neck “there’s never been a right time and with me moving, i just didn’t know if that’s what you wanted”

“you thought i wouldn’t want to marry you?” you ask in disbelief, the shock evident on your face.

“there was a point where i thought you wouldn’t wanna be with me period” she huffs out a half assed laugh before her hands settle in her lap.

you shake your head and and push the box into jessie’s hands “are you gonna sit there and look pretty or are you gonna ask me to marry you?” you sass her with a glint in your eye.

jessie’s jaw drops “what? right now? i don’t— i don’t have a speech or anything!”

you wave your hand about “as if i give a fuck about a prepared speech jess. everytime you speak to me it’s like a declaration of love, say whatever comes to mind”

the midfielder scrambles off the bed and onto one knee in front of you, her hands slightly shaky and completely unprepared. she clears her throat “y/n” she starts.

you give her an encouraging nod.

jessie nods along with you “there’s a lot of things in life that i’m proud of, but everytime someone asks me what i’m most proud of my first thought is you. you, who is so selfless and so determined to make a better life from the cards that you were dealt. you, who has chosen everyday to to show kindness to those who may not have been the most kind to you.”

your vision goes cloudy when you see jessie’s tearing up. she wipes her eyes before continuing.

“there’s not a day that goes by that i don’t picture you in my life. every mile stone, every big life moment, you’re right there by my side. i would follow you to the end of the earth and back three times over if you needed me to, and i know you’d do the same for me” she clears her throat again “you’ve made me the best version of myself and there’s no one else i’d rather spend the rest of my life with. so, will you marry me?”

“about time fleming!” you half sob, half laugh as you throw your arms around her neck “oh my god, of course i’ll marry you!”

you pull off her and she shakily puts the ring on your finger. cupping her face, you wipe her tears and tuck some hair behind her ears “i love you” you say as you kiss her hard.

jessie’s arms wrap around your waist and she begins to stand, taking you with her. she walks you back until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you sit down. jessie steps between your legs and breaks the kiss “i believe we have some plane tickets to buy”

you roll your eyes and bunch your fist up in the collar of her shirt “mhm later” you say lowly as you pull her down to your level to kiss her again “gotta show my fiancé how much i adore her”

——

you had booked your tickets that night and almost immediately began thinking of things you were going to be able to sell for some extra cash. now almost two months later, you’d still chosen to not to tell people that you were moving, or that you were engaged, and you’d been dodging your mother’s calls since that last conversation with her.

you knew she wouldn’t agree with you moving or marrying so young, despite how much she claimed she loved jessie, so the two of you thought it would be best to not even let her know until you were in london.

you put the money you got from selling your dresser into an envelope that you needed to take to the bank, and sigh “glad that’s done” you say as jessie walks into the kitchen.

her arm lazily wraps around her waist and she kisses your cheek “at least now we can just live out of boxes” she says as she hooks her chin over your shoulder.

your hand comes up to cup the side of her head “you make it sound ideal”

“well, now we know when we’ve packed too much”

“i’ve already gotten rid of so many of my clothes”

“and you’ve still got so many more” she says cheekily as she unwraps herself from you “don’t worry about it, if you don’t want to get rid of anything else we can ship some stuff up to my parent’s place and they can send it over when we get more settled”

you rub your face“it’s okay, there’s still some things that i’ve been meaning to get rid of. i really don’t want to take all of it”

“we’ve got a month before we leave. that’s enough time to sell whatever you want” she says as she puts her hand over your left “stop stressing. with our combined savings we’re going to be fine for a little while, and you’ve got that job lined up. there’s nothing to worry about”

you nod and turn fully to look at her, cupping her face in your hands “i know”

jessie raises an eyebrow “say it”

“we’re going to be fine” you sigh

jessie smiles as kisses you “yes we are”

[radiowallet]

Affection in Row 16

Summary: On your flight to Spain you have a run-in with an adorable stranger.

WC: 2.5K

Pairing: Javi G. x GN!Reader

Warnings: Cuteness overload, fluffy fluff, and sugary sweet fitting the day. A little bit of cursing. Drinking. A plane ride?

Notes: Another moment where my brain got away from me. I was on a plane and thought 'hey what would Javi G. be like in coach?' This is what popped out. First time writing him. Please be gentle.

He looks lost. A true achievement considering the two feet wide walkway between the rows of seats that seems to have the man in front of you completely flummoxed, One glance at him- designer sunglasses resting atop luscious waves of brown all the way down to his perfectly pressed sport coat to the Gucci loafers on his feet- and you know this is not a man who normally flies coach.

If ever.

He’s standing in the aisle, staring at his ticket like he’s waiting for it to tell him where to sit, and you can physically feel the anger of the line of people growing steadily behind you. You want to be one of those people too but his broad shoulders and tan skin have sapped any and all fire from your veins, sending that feeling closer towards something like affection. You distinctly hear the word “jackass” and decide it’s best to step in now before someone with more piss in their veins than you takes aim at the sweet, but confused looking man.

“Sir,” you call out, gently tapping at his elbow. He turns with a start looking around wildly before coffee brown eyes finally land on you. His lips are parted around an apology but you smile, cutting him off before he can get the words out.

“Do you need some help?”

He visibly deflates, matching your smile, and oh, his whole face lights up with it. A dimple carves out a perfect little spot on his cheek and you have to physically stop yourself from reaching out for the curve of his face.

“Please,” he asks, a wonderful accent to the timber of his voice. You take his offered ticket and point him to his seat, internally thrilling when you see his row matches your own. You guide him to the right row, only a few more back from where you started, and point him to his seat, the one in the middle.

“I take it you don’t fly coach a whole lot?”

He laughs, deep and sweet, a caramel coated sound that you’re instantly addicted too as he settles in, tucking his leather bag safely down by his feet. You take your time stowing your small duffle bag in the overhead bin, willing your heart rate to slow and the heat in your cheeks to dissipate. You’re about to be on a flight next to this man for hours and you don’t even know his name. A crush is not on the agenda for today.

“This is obvious, yes?”

“Only a little,” you can’t help but tease, liking the way the pink spreads across his features. Bag safely tucked away, you shift back and forth on your feet awkwardly, eyeing his large frame, his knees bumping right into the seat in front of him. You definitely don’t picture how warm that thigh would feel beneath-

“There is a problem?”

His confusion saves you from your traitorous thoughts. You point to the seat between him and the window.

“I need to get by.”

The confusion returns to his features, an endearing little crease forming between his brows before realization dawns across his face.

“Lo siento, siento! Please!” He stands, a comical burst of enthusiasm shooting out of him that has him bumping his head into the roof of the plane, his sunglasses flying towards the floor, an embarrassed groan falling from his lips. You clamp a hand over your mouth, a pathetic attempt to capture your laughter and the handsome stranger doesn’t miss a single beat of it.

“It seems I am destined to, how do you say, make an ass of myself, no?”

Feeling suddenly emboldened, you let your tongue run away from you, pinching at the man’s cheek as you shuffle past him, your fronts pressed perfectly together in the too tight space.

“At least you look cute doing it.”

Another blush blooms bright across his cheeks that thrills you all the way down to your toes, pleased to know you aren’t the only one feeling some sort of silly sort of affection in the middle of row 16. He twists and turns in a dramatic fashion until he spots his sunglasses, this time opting to slide them into the breast pocket of his baby blue jacket. Finally both settled into your seats, you turn and officially introduce yourself.

“A beautiful name for my angel in disguise. I am Javi.”

“Javi,” you repeat back, enjoying the way the two syllables feel on your tongue. “So do I get the whole story now? Or do I have to wait for the peanuts first?”

He laughs again, and it’s just as lovely the second time around.

“I am just desperate to get home. I was here for work but now my flight keeps getting pushed and pushed. This was the only seat available and I am just so tired.” He says the last word with another flare of dramatics, his head falling forward into his hands.

He is too cute for his own good.

“Wait! Spain is your home?”

He smiles as he lifts his head and nods before launching into a sprawling description of his house, the endless number of rooms, the crystal blue waters that surround his master suite, the pool where he spends his mornings, and the personal theater where he spends his nights. By the time he finishes, the flight attendants are going through their pre-flight instructions and you both turn your attention to the front of the plane.

Take-off is bumpy, the windy day making the plane bounce around in a way that has you clinging to your armrests. If Javi notices, he’s kind enough not to draw attention to it. When the plane evens out in clear air and the seat belt sign blinks off, he turns back to you with another enthusiastic grin.

“What are your plans in Spain, angel?”

You feel your cheeks heat up again when it becomes clear the nickname is going to stick, but you breeze past it and focus on keeping the waver out of your voice.

“I’ve just always wanted to see it. I’ve been saving for years and I finally just decided it was time.” You leave out the part about losing your job and your boyfriend all in one week, determined to focus on the positives. You reach into your bookbag and pull out your guidebook to show him all that you have planned. With zero hesitation he plucks the book from your hands and flips through the pages you have carefully marked with bright pink post-it notes. He tuts softly to himself, muttering in soft Spanish that you only half understand, and you start to worry that maybe you should have spent more time with that babel subscription your mom got you.

“No, no, this simply will not do. My angel, you are missing all the best restaurants, the best sites, none of which are even in this little book of yours. I cannot allow this.”

Again, without prompting, he pulls a pen from the same pocket he had stashed his sunglasses in, and flips to the back cover of your book and starts writing in a curved and hurried print. At the next jolt the airplane gives, his eyes drift to the iron-grip you have on the armrest, brows furrowing slightly, but still he says nothing, pen poised over your guide book.

“I will make you a new list,” he announces, tongue caught between his teeth, concentrating on the task at hand. He’s still writing feverishly as the flight attendants finally make their way to you, an offer of drinks and the in-flight menu.

“Just a water for me,” you ask politely, hands gripping tight again just as the plane gives a small jump.

“Something stronger will help calm the nerves,” Javi teases, eyes still pointed down at his growing list.

“Yeah but 12 bucks for a cup of boxed wine hardly feels worth it.”

The sound of Javi’s pen scratching pauses as he looks over at you, confusion returning ten-fold.

“It is not on the house?”

“Not in coach,” you remind him, teeth gritting as the plane lurches one more time.

This fact seems to personally affront him in more ways than one. He shakes his head in earnest, muttering again in Spanish before turning to the flight attendant and ordering two glasses of champagne, pulling out his wallet to pay even as you protest loudly.

“It is a long flight,” he argues back, a finality in his voice that clearly demonstrates how often he listens to the word no, passing you a plastic cup filled with the bubbly beverage. You can tell he wants to scoff at the cheap cup holding the even cheaper champagne but he holds back, instead tapping his own against yours with another flash of pearly white teeth.

“Salud! To new friends!”

You swear there’s something special about the way Javi let’s his lips linger on the word friend. It sends a tingle down your spine that you gladly chase with a sip of bubbly.

The drink does it’s job, helping to settle the panic that had made itself a home in your chest with each bump of turbulence and helping to loosen your lips even more as you turn your body towards Javi’s, the two of you going through his list of recommendations eagerly. You had almost forgotten completely that you were in the air, your knees kissing gently as Javi tells you about the menus of each restaurant, making sure to write down which entrees and desserts are a must. It’s as if you had known each other your whole lives and not for the length of a plane ride, and you are already dreading the moment the pilot announces your arrival, despite the fact that you’ve dreamt of this moment since you could find Spain on a map.

Javi somehow talks you into one more cup of champagne, his zest for living in the moment more than infectious. Your book eventually gets shoved away and the conversation slows, topics shifting in turpentine curves, an easy meander from one thing to the next. He hums in a pleased sort of way when you practice your clunky Spanish on him, not a hint of cynicism to be found when he gently corrects your pronunciation, the pads of his fingers warm where they tap at your thigh, demonstrating which syllable to emphasize between your lips.

After dinner, Javi takes the lead on the topics, sharing some of greatest passions with you. Your limbs are loose, a warm buzz settled at the base of your spine as you lean back in your seat, listening to his soothing baritone go through his favorite movies by genre. At first you were worried he was just trying to distract you from the fact that the seatbelt sign had blinked back on but when you blink your eyes slowly in the direction of his own, you’re certain that this is the topic he could talk about forever.

When you admit you had never seen Face Off, he grabs a hold of your hand, his features twisting to adorably frantic.

“My angel, please! It is the best action movie possibly ever. People will joke at its expense, but I promise you will not have a better time watching it.”

You laugh but the noise chokes as the plane jolts violently, your fingers tightening around Javi’s. You mumble an apology, pulling your hand away but his grip chases after it, capturing your smaller one between both of his, the warmth settling your fears better than 10 glasses of champagne ever could. You want to feel embarrassed or silly, the overwhelming affection you’re feeling for a man you just met, something you only hear about in one of Javi’s movies, but his palms are warm and you can smell the citrus of his cologne, so you simply can’t find it in your heart to care.

Javi doesn’t miss a single beat.

“Please tell me you have at least seen Con-Air?”

When you cringe and shake your head no, he groans with too much drama to be deemed insincere, and dives a rant about how it is one of Nicholas Cage’s most dramatic turns and deserves more than just the stamp of an action film.

He doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the flight.

When you walk out of the terminal and into the bright white of the airport, you’re mad at yourself for not being more excited. A few feet away is the country you’ve dreamt of for years, but your hand feels empty, missing the warmth of thick fingers and an enthusiastic smile. Javi had been one of the first off, holding up his phone as an apology, saying he had forgotten to let his driver know when his plane had been arriving.

Of course.

He had a driver. He wore Gucci loafers and splurged on champagne for a stranger.

A tourist pinching pennies as they make their way across the country is not a suitable match for him, friend or otherwise. You swallow back the wave of disappointment, reminding yourself why you’re here, refusing to start your trip off on a sour note. You reach into your bag, determined to get started right away, intent on finding one of the whole-in-the-wall places from Javi’s list, but are immediately panicked. Your guidebook is gone, missing from the pocket you were certain you shoved it in. Shame and frustration threaten to swallow you whole when you realize it must still be on the plane. You’re already turning back frantically to wave down airport staff when a familiar hand wraps around your wrist.

“Angel, thank goodness I didn’t miss you. You will need this.”

Your mouth falls open where you stand, staring at Javi where he waits in front of you, somehow seeming broader in the wide open space of the airport, holding out your guidebook. You take it back quietly, unable to hide your frown when his hand falls away from you.

“Thank you for your kindness, and your company,” he offers again, giving a slight bow in your direction. You can’t help but smile, just a little, mimicking the gesture before offering your own thanks.

“Maybe we’ll see each other again?” You say with a small wave, doing your best not to let hope color your words. The smile he gives you is shy, eyelids fluttering as he turns his cheeks to the ground below. When he looks back at you fully, there’s a promise there you aren’t sure what to make of.

“I certainly hope so, angel.”

And then he’s gone.

You watch his retreating back until it’s out of sight, baby blue mixing in with a crowd of gray. Even if he was just being polite, you can help but swell with joy at his own use of the word hope, letting the sweet turn of his dimpled smile play on a loop inside your head.

After a few minutes, where you tell yourself again and again that he isn’t coming back, you open your guidebook intent on getting something to eat before finding your hotel. When you do, a bright pink post-it note flutters to the ground. You scoop it up quickly, noticing the scrawl across it is not your own, but Javi’s, an address written out followed by a quick note.

Movie night tonight

There was no question mark at the end of the sentence.

After all, Javi hardly ever listens to the word no.

-----------

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[thefanficmonster]

Stranger In The Crowd

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently ended the process of moving, Y/N is rightfully very tired but also very excited for the new chapter of her life. Funnily enough, this new chapter includes a newly formed long distance friendship/crush with a very special person from San Diego.

Requested by @boiled-onionrings Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request and I’m really sorry you’ve had to wait so long for it to be posted but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

I let out a heavy sigh, relieved to finally be at home after such a long day of standing around in the Georgia heat with only a thin layer of fabric to protect my eyes and head from the scorching sun. Yeah, anyone who says that tent did well at protecting everyone under it today is nothing but a liar. I was in a short, strapless white summer dress, the fabric of which barely had any weight and consistency to provide heat of its own yet I still damn near melted. Ok, I’ll admit, some of the roasting heat probably came from the energy and force I put into singing the songs of my band’s new album ‘Starting At The End’. 

The mini concert we held in this large open field was meant as an introduction to the city of Savannah where all the band members - myself included - are actually from but we all moved to the West Coast to pursue our music career. And now that we’ve grown, and the majority of us are married, one of us is a father now as well, we’ve decided to return to our hometown. The decision was so spontaneous and was executed so quickly due to no one objecting to it that it still hasn’t me that I’m no longer in LA. The heat isn’t helping my ‘processing’ process but I’ll get to it eventually. Do I miss LA though? Not sure I do - I think I more miss the people I was closer to while I was there.

Suddenly, as if perfectly timed, my phone dings, notifying me that I’ve received a message. I don’t have to look to know it’s from - there’s only one person I actively text and his name is....

C ~ Your virtual buddy Corpse here, making sure you didn’t die of a heatstroke today. If you did indeed survive, just reply to this message, if not....don’t do anything, I guess.

I can’t help but giggle at the sight of the message. I promised Corpse I’d text him after the concert to let him know I was ok, but the even dragged out for longer than anticipated so I’m guessing he got worried.

How cute.

Me ~ Alive and well, but I do feel like a popped tire of an overloaded truck. Hope that’s a visually appealing description

Corpse and I met on the charity livestream Jacksepticeye organized and invited our band to so we could play Among Us with some of the best gamers and streamers on the internet. It was a huge honor and a ton of fun, definitely an event I’d like to repeat in the near future because I had such a good time and I know all my bandmates did too. We all got acquainted and even became official friends with the gamers that were practically our hosts, Corpse becoming the closest friends I’d earn. That livestream happened months ago and we still text just as consistently.

C ~ Oh I know EXACTLY what you mean. Anyway, as to not exhaust you further to force you into typing, how about you send me pictures to sum up your thoughts and emotions and plans for the evening

This is OUR THING trademark, mine and Corpse’s and no one can take it away from us. It’s a significant element of our friendship that enables us both to understand one another when one of us feels the way I described in my message - a popped tire or a deflated balloon. I’m usually the exhausted one - blame the many shows we do and the many meet-and-greets we organize for our lovely fans. It’s the type of exhaustion none of the band members mind at all, but we definitely need some time to recover from it.

As I go to sit down on my couch, the flower crown I’ve been wearing slips off the top of my head, falling on the floor, creating a soft noise that attracts the attention of one of my many cats - Sasha. She’s the youngest and most curious kitty in the family, always protected by the other four - Luna, Cassie, Silver and Lynn. Those four are far lazier and a lot more disinterested in comparison to Sasha who immediately runs over to see what’s fallen.

I smile to myself, taking the flower crown and undoing it to lessen it by a few stems to make it smaller, all the while being watched by the curious Sasha whose interest is rewarded in the end when I put the now adorably tiny flower crown on her head.

While she still hasn’t shaken the thing off I manage to snap a pic which I send to Corpse who opens it mere seconds after it was delivered. 

C ~ Sasha’s pulling off your aesthetic better than you. Sorry, someone had to let you know

I burst out laughing for two reasons - 1.The message itself, damn it! It’s hilarious; 2. Corpse has learnt the name of each one of my cats and never mixes them up - not even Luna and Lynn who look almost identical. That amount of attention to detail is astonishing and very meaningful to me, it genuinely warms my heart and that may or may not be dramatic but it’s definitely not exaggerated.

Me ~ You think I haven’t caught on yet? 

C ~ Well, if it makes you feel any better you pull off my aesthetic better than I do

He’s referring to the e-girl look I did for one show the band had in downtown LA one night. I was drunk and looking forward to trying new things so I improvised the hell out of my outfit but I apparently looked presentable enough to leave a good impression on Corpse despite the pic I sent him being a bit blurry and being a mirror selfie in the bathroom of the very bar we were performing in. It goes without saying that the mirror was dirty too - had a bunch of writing on it which Corpse said only added to the aesthetic. Looking back on it now I kinda agree, and luckily so did the fans in the comments of that same photo when I posted it on Instagram.

Me ~ Means a lot actually. Nowhere near enough to aid the burn of having a cat pull off cottagecore better than I do, but still helps XD

As if sensing that we’re talking about her, Sasha hops on the couch, poking her head over my phone to look down at the screen.

Now this is gonna be golden.

I take a selfie with my phone in my lap, the camera capturing both me and Sasha at a rather unflattering angle which has me losing my mind laughing when I send the picture to Corpse who immediately sends back a string of cry-laughing emojis.

C ~ I can’t tell which one of you is cuter

Me ~ If that was a compliment, I gotta say I appreciate it greatly

C ~ Just telling the truth ;)

It’s times like these that the butterflies in my stomach remind me just why I’ve started catching feelings for this man despite all the distance between us and despite barely knowing him - he knows me more than I know him but I don’t mind it, oddly enough.

I’m fond of our connection and though I sometimes dream of something more, I’m also content with what we already have considering that ‘something more’ seems rather unattainable as of now.

My phone dings again, clearing the fog of thoughts and presenting me with a new message from Corpse.

C ~ Oh, by the way, look what I got....

That message is followed up by a picture of a ticket. A plane ticket to Georgia! 

While I’m still busy stomaching this and dealing with my quickly rising excitement, he sends another message.

C ~ I hope to catch a The Silver Rays concert while I’m there. Heard they had an adorable frontwoman ;)

My breath catches in my throat as a wide grin spreads across my face. The thought of having Corpse so close to me sends those aforementioned butterflies in my stomach into a raving mood and they practically explode my insides with excitement and joy like I’ve never felt it before. I can’t wrap my brain around the fact that we’re about to go from having an entire country between us, to being just some ways away - him in the audience and me on stage without a single clue of who to look for. That’s part of the excitement though, I guess, part of the guessing game that’s gonna make our meeting all the more interesting.

He’ll be a stranger in the crowd and I’ll be a performer on a stage - seemingly two people who have no relation whatsoever. But damn does it go beyond that: No one has to know how hard I’m falling for that stranger in the crowd.

Me ~ I’ve heard so too, can’t confirm it though

If this is gonna be a guessing game, I’ll flip the tables a bit - I won’t take any guesses. I’ll let the answer come to me. I’ll give the first move over to the stranger in the crowd, let’s see what he does.

C ~ I’ll check and let you know, don’t worry

Not worried whatsoever, Corpsie. I’m not worried at all.

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[doormarrow]

The Infamous House of Lamentation Cuddle Pile

Idk if this is a headcanon or a fic, but here we gooooo

The Curious Incident of the Infamous House of Lamentation Cuddle Pile

Let’s just say MC had a no good very bad day. It might have even been a lost-a-bet-and-had-to-eat-Solomon’s-cooking kind of a day

When they got back to the House of Lamentation, it was time to collapse. The floor of the common room looked *very* tempting, but they trudged up to the attic.

It turns out that Belphie was there first, much to MC’s surprise. MC noticed lumps in the bed, sure, but assumed that they were pillows and did their best dramatic flop, squishing the demon in the process. 

You would think Belphie would be startled; But if you think this exact same situation hasn’t happened with Beel before, you’re wrong.

He just lazily turned to MC, long enough to give them a grumpy look, and then buried his face back in his cow pillow. He may or may not have been secretly glad to *be* a pillow, but he would never tell. 

But where there’s one, there’s undoubtedly the other. Beel came looking for Belphie a minute or two later, wanting to relax and watch a movie (possibly with some popcorn). When he saw Belphie’s head peeking out from underneath MC, he smiled a bit to himself and settled beside his two favorite people in the world, propping himself up on the headboard. He’s a careful cuddler, and if he can’t be on the bottom of the pile, he will be as gentle as demonly possible.

MC was satisfied that the attic sandwich was now complete, but now there were voices downstairs, echoing in the entryway. They tried to snuggle deeper in between Beel and Belphie to drown out the noise, but the door burst open.

In came Asmo. He had been looking for the MC ever since he heard they came home tired, wanting to make sure they were alright, and that they got enough sleep last night. He was stopped in his tracks though. He had always thought the attic sandwich was overwhelmingly adorable (and maybe he was just a bit jealous of it as well) but this was a whole other plane of existence. He rushed over, and promptly put an elbow on Belphie to lean over and tell MC how adorable they were. He began to chat about his day, and the best posts he saw on Devilgram, never stopping to acknowledge the occasional snarky comment from Belphie. If allowed, he will absolutely begin playing with MC’s hair. 

Luke shows up a bit out of breath and peering around the door. He had just escaped the commotion downstairs and almost turned around when he saw yet more demons, but when Beelzebub motioned him over he sighed, defeated, and trotted over to the bed. Beel pulled up his knees, and Luke plopped down cross legged in front of him, beginning a tale of being called a chihuahua yet again by Lucifer. And so the pile now numbers 5.

Simeon marched up the stairs to find the very smol angel. Simeon, like Asmo, wholly endorses cuddle piles, albeit he suspects not in the same way. He politely asked to join the pile, and somehow manages to do it quite gracefully, lying side by side with the MC, while staying in head-pat range of Luke. He couldn’t help but think about how wonderful it was that the MC had brought them all together like this, and he began to drift off, wondering about how best to translate that quality into Henry...

Satan came up to try and find a quiet place to study, as now his least favorite demon was tearing up the house, trying to find Mammon. He debates briefly whether or not to move on to the library, but Asmo caught him as soon as he poked his head in the door, and pleaded for him to join the rest of them. Satan sighed, but a puppy eyed look from MC convinced him to settle on top of the headboard and try to continue his reading as best as he could. MC, now thoroughly squished by demons and some angels to boot, was positively beaming. Satan could swear that if he listened close enough they were actually purring, and a smile crept across his face, almost without him realizing it. Once he did however, he used his book to shield his face (and his now very prominent blush) from view.

Levi shows up with a laptop, looking very grumpy. He has been spam texting the MC for the last half hour because they said they would stream the premiere of the new TSL movie with him. He is even more grumpy when he realizes that the MC is sandwiched in a bunch of normies, but when given puppy eyes will begrudgingly set up the projector in the attic to watch the movie there. When he’s invited to attempt to sit on the  now-very-full bed, he gives them all the look of utter horror, but once more pleading eyes from his Henry win the day. Levi gingerly sits on the very edge of the mattress closest to MC, mumbling about normies and covering his face. He startles a bit when Belphie starts snoring from the depths of the pile, but otherwise settles in.

This did not last long. Shortly after the movie starts, in a tense scene between the Lord of Corruption and the Lord of Fools, the door bursts open again, scaring Luke into Beel’s chest. Mammon was doing his best impression of Cerberus’s zoomies, and dove headfirst into Levi, knocking him further back into the pile. He then proceeds to burrow as fast as he can, trying to hide. After explaining in very hurried terms that unless he hides now his future is upside down and attached to the ceiling, he covers himself with the edge of a blanket. His brothers (except perhaps, for Beel, who personally thinks that Mammon is great for hugs and therefore great for cuddle piles, and Belphie, who at this point is mostly unconscious and couldn’t care less as long as the MC remained on top of him) all internally debate kicking him out of the pile, but a murderous look from the MC puts a stop to that. MC grabs another edge of the blanket, and they create a tent to keep in the warmth. Levi.exe stopped working, as after being knocked over he was now directly on top of the MC. He might’ve complained about Mammon, but at the moment his brain was too overloaded from how impossibly cute the situation was. Not even in his favorite team sport anime was there anything that could have prepared him for this. 

Solomon shows up not long after, waving his DDD in the air with a suspiciously familiar picture— Levi nearly shushes him, but when he took a closer look at the picture on the phone, he blushes hard and retreats under the blanket. On his DDD is a selfie Asmo took with the whole pile behind him. 

“Asmo, you called?” Solomon is grinning ear to ear, and without asking sets himself down beside the mischievous Avatar of Lust. Asmo does his best to make room for him, not wanting to exclude anyone from the monstrous pile. Solomon, being a human, takes up no where near the amount of space that, say, Beel does, but his legs just couldn’t quite fit. He solves the problem by making an ottoman himself, drawing some glowing purple rings and symbols in the air beside the bed and crossing his ankles over top of them. He congratulates Levi on his choice of movie, and leans against the pile to watch.

They all get to about the midpoint of the movie, when Asmo feels that he’s somehow forgetting something. Something, or someone important… He was about to forget it when Diavolo climbs through the window asking “dID yOU FOrgET ABOuT ME” appeared in the doorway, looking utterly offended.

He quickly forgives them for apparently forgetting to invite him to the cuddle party, and advances on the bed. He stops, turns around and oh no he’s doing a trust fall—

The whole pile groans and Levi wonders if he’ll be able to breathe again. Diavolo, on the other hand, could not be more delighted, putting his hands behind his head and asking about the movie. 

Barbatos watched, amused, from a corner of the room. No one is exactly sure how or when he got there, but that wasn’t at all unusual for Barbatos. MC asks him to join, which prompts Levi to silently plead for his lungs, but Barbatos politely declines. Being pestered further however, the prince in particular putting up a strong argument, Barbatos gives a slight smile and manages to find a single open edge to precariously balance on. He laughs a bit to himself, at the very least glad that everyone is getting along for once. MC is pleased, but both they and Asmo could still tell someone was missing…

Lucifer was having a difficult day. He couldn’t find Cerberus, who was due for a brushing, and he had begun to worry about the MC, who came in with a face so beaten down that it made him of all people feel beyond exhausted. On top of that, Mammon had the audacity to inform him that he had planned a spur of the moment get together at the House of Lamentation with Purgatory Hall, Diavolo, and Barbatos in which he promised that Lucifer would do the cooking.

Mammon had disappeared, and so Lucifer sat down at his desk defeated. He would message Diavolo in the meantime, asking to perhaps try a different day, or to go out to Ristorante Six instead. He picked up his DDD to do so, but something nagged at the back of his head. The House of Lamentation was too quiet. The last time the house had been this quiet, Satan had rigged a glitter bomb in the kitchen that took several decades to wash out. He still shuddered at the thought of green glitter. He was brought out of his thoughts as the DDD rumbled in his hand. A new Devilgram post? The image that came up was from Asmodeus’s account... 

Mammon was busy arguing with Levi about how no I don’t want ta cuddle with you weirdos, I’m just lookin out for my best interests, s’all. What dya mean tsundere? Look who’s talking scale boi when the poor, beaten-and-abused attic door was slammed open once again. 

Lucifer loomed, putting on his best lecture face. Mammon was so far beneath the pile at this point that Lucifer would have to pry them all apart to get to him. 

“What in the Devildom do you think you’re doing? Being cute won’t get you out of this.” Lucifer begins to explain that snuggling the Prince of the Devildom is improper at a time like this, Mammon should learn not to pull others into his promises, etc. Barbatos is unimpressed. Lucifer definitely thinks this is cute, but he would never, in any time or realm, admit it.

He continues uninterrupted, but something can be heard padding up the stairs. A minute or so into his speech, he is suddenly toppled over, careening headfirst into the pile.

Absolute confusion from everyone involved, and a very, very grumpy Lucifer. Also chaotic laughter from Satan, who is now directly above Lucifer, sitting on the headboard.

Cerberus has arrived, claiming his spot atop the pile. He proudly sits on Lucifer’s chest, as if to say to the MC, look what I brought, aren’t I a good boy?

Lucifer makes an attempt to get up, but then Diavolo, Asmo, Simeon, and the MC began pleading with him to stay a while. He melted a little on the inside, but when the MC grabbed his hand to stop him from leaving he broke, and resigned to stay, just for the moment. He closes his eyes, for once relishing the fact of being surrounded by his family and closest friends. Cerberus curled up on top, content that he had brought the last piece to his puppy pile.

And so they stayed like that for the rest of the night, even after the movie ended, only pausing for Asmo to get his softest blankets and pillows from his room. Satan got drowsy while reading his book, eventually nodding off and moving from the headboard into the pile, and accidentally leaning on Lucifer and Cerberus. Lucifer was more than surprised, but he vowed not to move a muscle so he wouldn’t disturb the sleeping bookworm. Diavolo took the other side of Lucifer resting his head on Lucifer’s shoulder, and even Barbatos relaxed against the pile, folding his hands on his chest, and glancing every once in a while at Luke to make sure he was comfortable. Mammon and Levi shared their spot squishing the MC, heads together and snoring lightly. MC hugged and held hands with whoever was closest by, occasionally shifting their weight to hopefully make Belphie more comfortable. Asmo and Solomon leaned on each other on one side of the bed, Asmo co-opting his magical ottoman and curling up as best he could. Simeon, oddly content with his spot near the bottom at the pile, was dozing away peacefully, somehow still graceful but letting out a small, perfectly pitched whistle as he breathed in and out. Last but not least, Luke had rolled himself into a tiny angel ball against Beel’s chest, and Beel left one hand on his head at all times. Beel was the last to fall asleep. He was too busy smiling, feeling fuller now than he had in ages.

All photo evidence of the event mysteriously disappeared, and that was how the infamous House of Lamentation cuddle pile happened, cross my heart and hope to sneeze.

RIP Belphie

PS Asmo is platonic and non-platonic cuddle king, fight me on it.

[caterpellas]

munich nights • harry styles

summary: touring inseparably as best friends and musicians, yours and harry’s relationship takes a cruel turn in munich.

warnings: smut (oral m recieving) 

genre: bestfriend!harry, friends to lovers(?), angst, smut

pt 1/? (two is here)         word count: 4k

a/n: this is my first time writing in like a year so some feedback would be amazing, pls be kind and show some love to my crumby attempt lol

chapter playlist :D

harry.

he was sort of your anchor. unspoken, of course, that he had taken such a high profile role in your life. he didn’t need to know, to know. you were certain it worked in reverse, that you grounded him just like he did for you.

you’re not sure of the timestamp on the beginning of your friendship, sometime 3 years ago after mindlessly chatting in a shoreditch bar, at the sort of venue you were both cackling over after a couple of overpriced gin and tonics.

“i’m not sure why i came here, it really isn’t my scene,” you said after calming your laughter down.

“me neither. i’m not all that into £18 cocktails made with organic fruit juice,” he jested back, although you felt a hint of sadness in the next, “it makes me miss home.”

after that you clicked instantly.

you both bonded over being musicians; your styles contrasted entirely though. his band, who you met a few occasions later, were the antithesis to yours. mitch and sarah looked and sounded like they were fresh from a 70’s pop rock band, whilst your bassist and drummer, both twins, had buzzed heads and black dr martens on 24/7. the differences between you and him didn’t matter in the slightest. which is why, after 18 months of building the strongest friendship you’d had in your life, he asked you and your band to come on tour with him.

touring with your best friend and now biggest fan was the single greatest experience of your life. you would admit to the apprehension you first felt about opening for harry as your music wasn’t exactly in keeping with his genre- you were a little grungier then his soft style. i suppose the opposites between you is what enhanced everything about your relationship, musically and personally. in articles harry was always praised for his effeminate fashion choices, and since gaining some recognition as his opener, the articles were now mentioning how you dressed too, hyping up your more boyish, ‘can’t be bothered’ clothing taste you’d developed over your years in the band. your shoes were always chunky and platform, your top or bottoms usually oversized and always with the same thick chain around your neck. to some, your style seemed intimidating but it couldn’t be further from the truth. harry knew that best of all.

3 months into the tour now, you had made it to munich for the 1st night of your european portion of the tour. you and harry were sat next to one another on the plane, sharing an earpod each, playing music from your playlist titled “h”. you hadn’t been able to sleep on the overnight flight, after reading a particularly disturbing article about harry’s recent paparazzi shots. “harry styles’ player ways making a comeback?” it read, and pictured him with a couple models you’d met in new york together after going out for the night. you couldn’t place why but the article made you feel sick. you put it down to seeing such a close friend’s name slandered in the press, and you hoped he hadn’t read it yet. harry was often disheartened after reading the gossip people like to spread about him, occasionally involving you as well.

“you seem very deep in thought.” harry’s morning voice could be heard over the sound of steely dan in your ears. turning to him, one of his eye’s peering at you, you reply, “not really- just thinking about the set list.”

“you need to switch off your work brain sometimes,” he grins up at you, “have a little more fun! munich will be great, lots of beer to try.”

“of course that’s what you look forward to most. you know munich is filled with some beautiful architecture and history right?”

“that’s great and all, but you know what else they have?” harry questions you and you shake your head.

“oktoberfest.”

-

you arrived at your airbnb not long after- harry’s band and yours all preferred staying in a large house or apartment then some posh hotel that didn’t feel quite as welcoming. harry’s manager picked the place out, opting for a villa that sleeps 10 people, filled to the brim with oak panelling and a big fire place in the centre of the room. there was a hot tub outside that would probably never be used in your short stay there. the kitchen had a large island in the middle and a big aga keeping the place warm in the late september weather. his manager really outdid herself this time.

“this is place is so beautiful,” you still weren’t over all of the beautiful places this tour had taken you, the short time you’d been travelling had been a sensory overload.

“you’ll really like munich, y/n,” harry said yawning, grabbing both your shoulders from behind. his touch took your mind back to the article.

“harry,” you started, reluctantly turning to face him, “i know it’s none of my business who you, you know- fuck, but i was just wondering what happened with those models after i left?” harry’s calm expression never faltered as he answered, “me and camila kissed in the taxi but then i went back to the hotel. why?” you didn’t have the strength to answer honestly, and tell him it was because the thought of him having a threesome with two supermodels made you physically wretch, but you felt an obligation to give him a somewhat truthful answer.

“i saw an article about it, the paps caught a glimpse of it,” you white-lied. if you were going to be honest with yourself, the reason him with people like camila and gina bothered you so much is because of the way you compared yourself to them. you were overall confident, you were proud of your style and “gives no fucks” attitude you’d built up over the years, but these were literal models. women who were paid, like paid a lot, because they were beautiful. harry’s dating history has had a lot of women you could never measure up to be as good as and that was a real confidence breaker.

“well anyway, are you ready for tonight’s show? we were thinking it would be cool if you guys came on with us and...”

-

harry, as per usual, performed with all of his heart and soul and yet again amazed you. he had been doing this for three months, playing at least three shows a week and his energy levels were still unmatchable. you were back in your dressing room, taking off your stage clothes and putting on an almost identical outfit, wiping the sweat off your brow and upper lip. the monitor in your room played harry’s set, and you had to find any way you could to distract yourself from his performance before you ended up fantasising about the way his sweaty curls cling to his neck and how you wished he was sweating like that just for you, for an entirely different reason.

“thank you so much munich!” you hear harry’s accent through the small tv, and look up to see him panting and grinning, before running off stage. you had no idea why, but tonight there was a small amount of nervousness about you. since reading the article, you’ve had to address the gnawing idea that you could possibly have feelings for harry that were more than just your deep set friendship. would you act differently about the man you loved more than anyone in this world? you didn’t want things to change- they were perfect with him. he’d jest with you when you became too much of a perfectionist about your latest song, telling you to stop thinking so hard or you’ll have an aneurysm. if people commented on his style or yours, he’d laugh it off and tell everyone he’s “the woman in the relationship” sarcastically, and you’d be in awe at how he essentially said a huge “fuck you” to gender norms. he made you comfortable being you and you coveted his ability to be so happy being him. the thought of this bond being broken frightened you to your core. the knock at your door was a good signal for your thoughts to end.

“you coming y/n?” the group of you were all headed to a german beer bar, since harry was so eager to try the world famous pilsner. finding a large lounge space with sofas inside the bar, you all sat and ordered a round, celebrating a good night’s work.

“to the first night in europe,” you toasted, “cheers!” all your glasses clinked together and the nervous feeling started to fade finally. sat next to harry, you discussed the tour so far, he told a story about being in one direction and it reminded you of a hilarious story from when you were 15, when you used to listen to emo music and swore how much you hated one direction, and they all laughed at the irony. if you had told your 15 year old self this was where you’d be at 21, you’d have snorted and laughed till you cried. but life works out in strange ways and you wouldn’t change it for a second. a few drinks in and any of those nervous feelings about what harry was to you had evaporated like alcohol till you eventually had to remind yourself that whilst your hand was on harry’s knee, it meant nothing. and the way he leans forward to you as he laughed at your not-so-funny joke. but those reminders were getting weaker the more his touch started to linger after he went to go and grab his pint the same time you did.

“we really must stop meeting like this,” he jokes as your hand rubs against his for the 50th time that might and you laugh at him because your afraid if you don’t play it off as a joke you’ll lean over and kiss him. you find yourself in need of a distraction from his low buttoned shirt and endless black ink drawn across his chest that you can see in high definition when your this close to him.

“i’m going to get another round,” you exclaim dramatically, telling yourself more than the rest of the group. making your way over to the bar, you can feel harry’s vision bearing into your back as you lean against the counter to get service.

“another round of pilsners on the table’s tab please,” you ask as soberly as you can. you’re not off your face yet, but the alcohol is definitely present, surrounding the corners of your vision.

“i’d rather by you a drink.” a slightly german accent crowds your ears and you look over to see a man, not all that different to some of the guys in harry’s band, smirking at you.

nervous, you reply, “no you don’t need to do that we have a tab here.”

“i insist.” afraid to be impolite you quietly thank him, and turn back to the bar. you can’t even think of chatting to guy at a bar whilst the man you love is sat so close by. even though it’s not returned, the pain of giving him up to flirt with a stranger is too much to bare.

“so what brings you to a local’s bar like this one?”

“me and my friends are working here for the night.”

“just here for the night? such a shame,” his smile, although attempting to seem unthreatening, is making you uncomfortable. the bartender seems to be taking forever with your order.

“i’m staying in a hotel a few minutes away, come and join me and their bar for a real drink?” your heart was pounding. you rarely got hit on so you were a little out of practice on how to deal with persistent assholes like these ones.

“i can show you how the germans like to do it.” that was it- he’d gone too far and you were so embarrassed by this point you were too humiliated to even reply to him. your neck was getting hotter and you could feel your cheeks reddening.

“you okay?” harry’s voice took you out of your panic-stricken state, “you were taking a while.”

turning to harry and preparing to tell him how this man won’t get the message, the german creep pipes up, “she’s fine mate. we were just discussing a date.”

“listen mate, i suggest you back off. alright?” harry grabbed your hand, tightly, and guided you out of the bar.

“harry where are we going?” you could barely comprehend what had happened in the last five minutes to even realise he was hailing a taxi.

“back to the house. i’ll text the others.”

“harry i’m fine honestly it’s no-“

“who said i was fine? i wanted to leave and i thought maybe you did too.” he was angry, which wasn’t something you saw in harry often. he was a happy guy, and optimistic about most things in life.

“is this because of that guy?”

“of course it is y/n.”

“i’m sorry i didn’t realise he’d be an assho-“

“why’re you apologising?”

this shut you up. you didn’t know why. this wasn’t the first time a guy had been slightly predatory towards you and you doubted it would be the last. after the first couple times your in situations like this you tend to see yourself as the problem and not the guys doing it.

“i don’t know, harry.” you climbed into the cab together and harry gave them the address, seeming somewhat cooled off from earlier. your head was buzzing from the alcohol and the fact that harry had essentially rescued you from what could have been a scary situation.

“harry?”

“yeah, y/n?”

“why did you kiss camila?” alcohol had made you more outspoken and you asked the question that had been driving your nervous energy all night.

“why are you asking?”

a little more honestly then last time, you answered, “i’m just curious.” harry shifted in his chair, slightly unnerved by the question. his whole demeanour had shifted entirely from earlier. he was close and warm with you, the friend you’d become addicted to being with. now he was closed off and moody- a rare sight for anyone who knew him well. you could have picked a better time to ask the question, of course, but you had to know. you had other questions too, like why he was so angry right now, and why did he care that i was chatting with a guy at the bar, even if he was a creep.

“because she wanted to kiss me and i wanted to kiss her. the same reason most humans kiss,” there was a slight element of humour back in his voice now.

“and that was it?”

“yep.”

“hmm.” you tried to ponder this, but your attention span was limited when you were this inebriated. your thought process had quickly moved from harry’s sex life to harry in general and his outfit of the evening- a personal favourite. he’d worn white cream trousers with a vest top and an unbuttoned short sleeve shirt, along with the necklace you’d given him last christmas. you could see his two swallows peaking from the straps of his wife beater and your mind wandered to the thought of having your mouth against them. against all his tattoos, individually placing a kiss on each and everyone that you had grown to fall in love with.

you remembered the memory of harry coming with you to get your largest tattoo,  a greek statue on your upper arm.

“harry you know this isn’t the first one i’ve gotten?” you laugh at how hard he was clutching your hand in the chair next to your seat.

“i know but i’m so excited for you. i want you to know i’ll be sat here the whole time to hold your hand,” he squeezes your hand to emphasise his point.

“harry i’m getting another tattoo not going into life-altering surgery.”

but inside, you were squealing at his words.

“y/n?”

harry’s less chipper current voice took you out of your memory and back to the cab in munich.

“you’ve been staring at my chest for a couple minutes,” his brows were furrowed as he studied your face.

“i want to lick it.” if someone had asked you why you answered with that, you genuinely couldn’t give them a good answer. alcohol didn’t do much to you, except allow you to have fun, and lose any sense of a filter. now was a perfect example of the effects. harry’s eyes widened at your candour- and so did yours. his calm expression only faltered for a few seconds though, before it returned to his neutral, warm face.

“what else?”

“i-uh- what?”

“what else were you thinking about?” your heart was beating so loudly you were sure harry could feel it across in his seat. why was harry asking this? you didn’t want him to know about your thoughts- they were far too embarrassing and far too private.

“i was thinking about all your tattoos,” you confessed.

“i was thinking about yours too.” you thought about all of your tattoos and remembered the dog rose you had on the back of your thigh, as well as the koi carp on your hip bone.

“which ones?”

“the flowers and the fish.” you gulped, knowing he was thinking of your most risqué tattoos.

harry, unusually, was completely serious as he said, “i thought about licking yours too.” you didn’t know where you stood with harry now. you were sat in a taxi, having the conversation with him that you thought would never happen. he wants you the same way you want him. he may not want you the same way a nagging voice told you. he could just be looking for an easy fuck, and you thought to yourself that even if that was all he wanted, you’d still give yourself to him.

“harry-“

“maybe we shouldn’t talk anymore, yeah?” you felt like you could cry- how could he not want to talk, and you were on tour together? this was the most gut wrenching feeling to have him tell you not to talk anymore. harry studied your face as you lip began to quiver, “jesus y/n i meant about the current conversation. of course i want to keep talking to you, i love you- you know, like a friend.”

“like a friend?” you couldn’t ever begin to describe how your heart felt like it fell to the pit of your stomach whilst the acid slowly burnt it away. friends is it. harry isn’t yours to have and he never will be, he just had to remind you in words of this.

“well we’re both a little drunk and clearly turned on- maybe just this once it could be more than friends? just for tonight, i mean?” harry’s clear green eyes didn’t stop looking into yours, and he seemed, i’m not sure, hopeful? as if on cue, the taxi took you back to your villa which was warmly lit from inside and you felt a nervous excitement crawl up your arms and legs at what could possibly come next. harry gave the driver the cash and you dashed quickly to the door of the house, the cool september air cutting through you both dressed inappropriately for the time of year. it dawned on you that your outfit- a big vintage men’s shirt with your oldest and favourite pair of dr martens with sheer tights- wasn’t the wisest choice. harry fumbled with unlocking the door and opened it to find the fire lit and the lights dimmed. it was more romantic than either of you would ever mention out loud but it felt like the house was routing for you. you weren’t sure where harry wanted this to go next, the air beginning to stiffen and feel awkward.

turning to face him, you started, “harry i-“ his lips met yours in an instance and any of the awkwardness left in the room had been dissolved by harry’s soft kiss. he tasted good, despite the beer you’d both been drinking and had you not been intoxicated by the pilsner and harry’s gentle touch, you’d probably care about things like breath. harry grabbed you by the shoulders, much like he did earlier that same day, and guided you into the room further, finding the large sofa and pushing you onto it. falling back, you glanced up at his towering figure. harry was already tall, but his powerful presence added a less literal height to him, and his shadow looked over you. you couldn’t help but stare at him as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, exposing some of your favourite tattoos of his. you got to your knees so that you were closer to his body and you finally relaxed in his presence, touching all the places you’d dreamed about. your hands raked up his torso to his chest and his head leant down to kiss you again. his lips were perfect and seemed made to be against yours so tightly, and made for the crook of your neck as well as they kissed and sucked there too. the fire in the corner of your eyes illuminated the small amount of gold in harry’s hair and he looked as angelic as he always did in your dreams.

“am i better than him?” harry murmured against your neck. the question caught you off guard. he’d only known one other person you’d had a sexual relationship with since you two became friends and that was a sound tech from one of his old touring groups that you had a small fling with. him and harry never got along and harry even accused him of purposely messing his sound up during a performance once. harry has walked in on you giving him head in your dressing room once and it was incredibly awkward but you both moved past it.

“who are you talking about?”

“you know, that arsehole sound tech from the american tour. do i kiss you better than him?” you could hear the layers to his voice- he was asking with a confidence that you felt straight in your core, but there was another layer to it- insecurity.

“god yes,” you gushed, he had to at least know how he physically made you feel even if you can’t admit your feelings, “you kiss far better then he ever could.”

an idea came into your head at this, “in fact, i bet you’ll feel better in my mouth then he did.” harry jaw slacks slightly and you give him a shy smile. talking like this wasn’t something you ever tried when you were having sex, but harry made you want to be honest. it was the closest you could get to confessing your love to him, and you’d take what you could get from harry right now. stunned into silence, you continue to undress harry, removing his vest to expose his lean stomach and small trail of hair from his belly button, that you kissed all the way down. he let out a sharp breath as soon as you got to the top of his pubic bone, and you finally noticed just how hard harry already was. with a little fascination, you dared to take it to the next level and cupped his length through his trousers, causing harry to groan at the contact. he felt big in your small hand, you couldn’t wait to reveal him, impatiently struggling with his zipper.

“woah, y/n, slow down,” harry puts a finger under your chin and you look up under your lash at him, knelt below him. his smile is a classic harry smile and for a brief second this feels like more than a casual fuck.

“you’re still wearing too much clothing.” harry bends slightly to get to the bottom of your shirt and speedily pulls it over your head, revealing your black cotton bralet and tights. harry’s mouth watered at the sight of you in nothing but your underwear and boots, your long hair falling in messy waves around your minimally tattooed arms. your sure your black eyeliner is smudged and your gloss practically jin existent but harry’s eyes make you feel like he wants nothing more then to fuck you.

“that’s much better,” he smiles again at you, and you take that as a good cue to continue on his member. eagerly, your hands go straight back to his flies, rapidly undoing them and letting his loose fit trousers fall from his hips, exposing his form fitted boxers and you get a much better idea of just how big harry’s cock really was. without realising you mumble, “i want you in my mouth so bad,” under your breath.

“fuck say that again.”

looking under your lashes again, you repeat, “i want your cock in my mouth so bad.” harry groans as his eyes roll back, his words almost being enough without your touch. but your hand still went back to his dick, pulling it out from the restraint of his boxers. it was thick and bigger then you had been with before. without missing a beat, your hand pumped him a few times, and his hips reacted instantly. as if beckoning for your lips to surround his cock, his hips thrust towards you again, and you obliged, licking and then parting your wetted lips for the head of his dick. the pre-cum touched your tongue and it urged you to take more of him further, swiping your tongue on the underside as you push more in. harry moans, gripping your scruffy hair in his large hand, and had to restrain from pushing your mouth around his whole length. as your mouth got acquainted with him, you started to move up and down the length, as harry’s moans got higher and louder.

“y/n your mouth is fucking magic.” the praise went straight to your clit and your underwear was dampening at the knowledge of the dirty things your mouth was doing.

“can you- fuck- can you grab my balls?” you responded immediately and cupped them lightly whilst continuing to bob your head on his cock.

“didn’t know you could you use your mouth for such dirty things, y/n. do i fill you better then he did?”his jealousy fuelled you to go even quicker, this time switching up to concentrating on his swollen head, your tongue lapping against it feverishly, whilst your hand pumped the rest of him. the combination of your hand and mouth was enough to drive harry insane.

“you do so good y/n, i’m gonna cum soon okay?” you release him from your mouth, and keep stroking him, eager for him to orgasm. you couldn’t describe the desperation you had to see the way he looked as he climaxed. if you were to die after this, you knew you would die happy, if only to have seen harry in that state of euphoria that only you could bring him to.

“fuck y/n i’m gonna cum,” harry pants, his thighs tensing and his eyes glazing over. you aim him over your chest and feel his load fall all over your breasts, soaking your bralet as he lets out a breathy moan. his breathes are loud and aside from the fire crackling are the only noise filling the space of the living room. you let his now soft cock go and fall back onto the sofa, too tired to think about all of what just happened, the only thought on your mind is of harry’s moans on repeat. your chest is sticky but you’re too exhausted to care. harry has slowly crept over to sit next to you on the sofa, and you’re unspokenly thankful he hasn’t distanced himself afterwards.

“i need to clean you up.” harry disappears as quickly as he arrived and comes back with a warm flannel. wiping your chest, you watch his face as his brows furrow delicately on his forehead and his mouth is slightly crooked in concentration. you loved every single portion of his face, and suddenly it meant something different. you had seen his face at it’s most real and vulnerable and you had that memory forever.

unfortunately moments like the one you and harry had finally shared don’t last forever, and once harry’s done wiping your  breasts off, he leaves a kiss on your forehead, grabs his clothes and leaves you on the sofa.

[staticscreenwriting]

The loneliest time of the year || Part two

Part 2 of 4

Summary: With a broken heart and the fear of having failed as a father, Frankie returns to his parents house for Christmas. What is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year feels quite lonely. Though when an old friend shows up unexpectedly with her young son in tow, Frankie’s Christmas seems to gain a little more happiness. Can they help each other fight the ghosts of their pasts and overcome their fears ?

A/N:��This is part of my 12 days of Christmas / Advent special. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Four messed up pies

By the morning of December 9th a heavy blanket of snow rests upon the world like a tick coat of marshmallow fluff. 

A restlessness surges through Frankie as he turns from his left to his right to his back then repeats the process all over again. He kicks away the blankets then pulls them back. Sleep doesn’t come easy these days. In fact sleep hasn’t come easy in a while. It’s a price you have to pay for leading the life he leads, has led. For doing the job he did. You see things, bad things, and they stay with you. Not always but in the quiet moments they creep back into your mind and all you can do is stare and hope they fade again soon. Fill your brain with other things. Occupy your mind.

It’s moments like these that his fingers are twitching and his body is aching for release. For something to numb his mind. Help him forget. 

There aren’t a lot of things that Frankie is proud of. In fact he can count them on one hand. One of them is his ability to fly. He's a damn good pilot … most of the time. (He is when someone doesn’t force him to navigate an overloaded plane across the Andes). He’s proud of Rosie. Despite his flaws and shortcomings he managed to create something so utterly perfect, that’s something to be proud of. And the. There’s the little coin in the pocket of his jacket. The one he fumbles with whenever he’s anxious or stressed. It’s gold and smooth and it proudly displays a big number 10 in the middle of a triangle on the front of the coin.

10 months. That’s a proud achievement. 

It could be more. It should be more! He really tried but after coming home from Colombia, one man less than they went in, after his girlfriend broke up with him and took Rosie with her. After everything. He needed the psi to stop. Just for one goddamn minute. He felt immediate regret wash over him when he woke up the next morning. Called Pope. Entered a 12 step program.

10 months and he feels better. He likes himself more now. But in those 10 months the voices have gotten louder, the images clearer, his heart feels heavier. 

With sleep being so far out of reach, he kicks off the blanket and drags his body out of bed. The smell of coffee hits his nose as soon as he steps out of his room, it drifts from the kitchen all the way up the stairs. 

His parents are sitting by the kitchen counter, mom holding onto a big steaming mug of coffee while his dad is deeply invested in the morning. Paper, glasses perched low on his nose. This is home, it sends him straight back to his childhood. If only, he thinks, if only he could provide this sense of warmth and domesticity for his own child. 

A knock on the front door shakes him from his thoughts. As he swings it open, a sharp sting of cold winter air whips at him, nips at his nose, his ears and his bare feet.

“Frankie hey, oh sorry did I wake you?”

(Y/N) is once again bundled up in layers of cozy clothes, keeping her warm and sheltered from the harsh weather. She looks cute. Absolutely fucking adorable. But in that moment, he doesn’t really notice that. Doesn’t notice Leo standing behind her either. His entire attention rests on the steaming pie she holds in her hands. 

“You made a pie?”

“She made 4.” Leo speaks up, his voice dripping with irritation and annoyance. 

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus, dude!”

Frankie regards the exchange with a fond smile pulling at the corners of his lips. There’s something so distinctly familiar in the way she interacts with her son, so unapologetically her. The way she’s always been. But now grown up entirely. A mother. 

“Why did you make 4 pies?” He asks, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Well I didn’t plan on making 4. The first one I mistook salt for sugar so you can imagine how it tasted. The second one I put way too much sugar in, might’ve been trying to compensate for my mistake with the first one but yeah that one did end up in the trash as well. The third … well I got pretty invested in an episode of unsolved mysteries and forgot it was in the oven so it turned out um — “

“Black. It was burned to a crisp.” Leo chimes up again, this time more amused than annoyed by his mother’s baking escapades.

“Yeah. It burned. But number 4 is looking pretty good.”

She looks up at Frankie with a smile so radiant it rivals the sun reflecting on the snowy ground. Pride shines in her eyes as she holds the pie towards him.

“Did you make me a pie?”

“Not exactly. It’s mostly for your folks. They agreed to watch this one while I got shopping for his Christmas presents.” (Y/N) explains, her tumb motioning towards the little boy over her shoulder. “This is a thank you to them for being literal angels. “

“Oh man you wouldn’t be saying that if you had to live with them growing up. I can’t tell you how many times dad unplugged my console while I was in the middle of a game.”

It’s a joke, of course it is. He really lucked out in the parents department and he’s not too proud or too shy to admit it. Maybe, he thinks, the good parent gene might’ve skipped a generation with him. His ex will surely agree with that statement. 

“Hey uh — you mind having some company while shopping ?”

“You wanna go shopping for toys?”

“I need to get some presents for my daughter.”

“Oh that’s right, you have a kid too. “

He doesn’t blame her for not remembering. He doesn’t strike people as the father type. And really, he hasn’t seen his little one in quite some time.doesn’t see her during the entire Christmas time. Is he really much of a father anyway?

“Sure yeah! I’d love some company.”

Maybe, Frankie thinks, this will help him drown out the voice. Those that tell him bad thoughts, whisper mean things. Maybe it will help him filter out the images. The blood. The suffering.

Frankie was never overly fond of the extreme commercialization of what should be a peaceful family holiday. But maybe this year he is,a little bit at least. Because those bright colors, the loud noises, the crowds, the ads assaulting you from every corner, that all will help drown out the dark. At least for a moment. 

“Alright lemme just get changed real quick.”

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Five days a week

“What the fuck is this?”

“It’s uh … it’s a … a game?”

“A game where you have to catch a piece of … poop.”

A wave of laughter tumbles from (Y/N)’s lips as Frankie holds up the brightly colored box, proudly displaying a drawing of a smiling turd. 

“It’s so dumb. And that says a lot coming from me, I can appreciate a good fart joke. But this is …. this is just dumb. “

“ It's what the kids these days want. I guess …”

“Would you buy this for Leo?”

“Absolutely not,” (Y/N) replies before taking the box from his hand and placing it back on the shelf between several more games of a similar kind. “But he wouldn’t like it anyway. Leo likes books and animals and fantasy movies. He’s so smart sometimes I wonder where he got it from.”

“You kidding me?” Frankie exclaims, “you’re so smart and if I remember correctly, you always carried around books when you were younger.”

(Y/N) just shrugs at his words though Frankie can’t make out a faint blush of red dusting her cheeks. “Leo is such an easy kid, always has been. Sometimes I wonder if that’s really the way he is or if he just tries to be that way because of me. Because he knows that I have to do all the parenting by myself and he feels he’s responsible for helping me along.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re doing good with him. Least you know what to get him for Christmas, what he cares about, what he’s interested in.”

His heart feels so heavy. His words seem to weigh down on his tongue like a stack of bricks. To admit your own failures to yourself is one thing, to admit them to someone else is quite another story.

“What do you mean ?”

“I — I have no idea what to get for Rosie. I don’t even know when I’ll see her next. She stays with her mom 5 days a week. I only get her on the weekends and even then her mom often finds a reason not to let her stay. Special occasions? I don’t get to spend those with her. Bet she doesn’t even recognize me anymore next time. She’s just a baby …”

This can’t be happening. He’s not going to start crying in the middle of a Toys R Us like a hyperactive toddler on a temper tantrum. Not in front of a beautiful girl who has been nothing but kind to him. This can’t be happening.

(Y/N)’s hand settles on his arm with a gentle touch. Almost as if she’s afraid he’ll break any minute now. And honestly, he might.

“Tell me about Rosie. I know she means the world to you and that’s all that matters Frankie. You’re trying. You’re trying so hard and I’m sure there’s lots about her that you know that no one else does. She’s your baby too. So tell me about her and we’ll figure out what to get her.”

And so they sit down on a swing set, one that’s definitely not meant for adults to sit on and have deep discussions, and Frankie starts talking. Once he starts it’s like a cork has been popped. It pours out of him, all of his pride and admiration and love for Rosie. All that has been brewing for so long now bubbles over. 

“... and she, she loves cuddling onto my chest and just listens to me. She doesn’t understand a word but she looks at me with her big beautiful eyes and it feels like I’m telling her all the biggest secrets of the universe the way she looks at me. Sometimes I sing and she — she falls asleep immediately.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Nah I think it's because my rendition of Eric Clapton is just real bad and boring.”

Their laughter is quiet, almost as if they are afraid of breaking the spell of this moment. Sometimes you find yourself at your most vulnerable during the big moments of your life and sometimes you do in the middle of a Toys R Us, sitting on a swingest that just barely holds your weight while a plastic giraffe looks over your shoulder and Kacey Musgrave’s rendition of “I’ll be home for Christmas” plays over the same overhead speakers that have been installed there in 1983.

“I just don’t want to disappoint her.”

 He’s already disappointing himself and that hurts bad enough.

“Frankie, let me be honest with you. She’s a baby, she’s not gonna care what you get for her. This is more about you than her. Whatever you get she’s gonna like it. Babies are easy to please, gets harder the older they get. We’ll find something cute for her but um … I think you should call her.”

“She’s a baby, she doesn’t have a phone yet.”

“ Really? I had Leo on a newborn data plan the second he popped out.”

Frankie raises his eyebrow in confusion.

“I was joking you dingus. Of course you’re gonna call her mom. There’s this thing, I don’t know if you’ve heard about it, it’s called FaceTime. You can actually see ther person on the other side. “ 

“ Very funny. I know what facetime is … “ 

“ Then call them. You said it yourself, the little one doesn’t understand a word of what you’re saying but that doesn’t matter. You’re there. You’re showing interest and taking initiative. It shows you care. And I think seeing her might be good for you too, even if it’s not in person.” 

“ You know, that sounds like a pretty good plan. “ 

“ Yeah? “ she asks him, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes, in her voice, in her entire being.

“ Yeah. “ 

“ Alright! Now let’s go find some presents for the little princess. May I suggest a cellphone? “ 

This time her laughter isn’t quite. It’s loud and radiant and the way her own joke amuses herself, is so goddamn endearing to Frankie. 

“ Ah shut up. “ he replies though his voice too is dipped in amusement as he throws his arm around her shoulders and they walk down the shiny linoleum floor, past dolls and teddy bears and Star Wars action figures.

And it feels right. Like the fit together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces slotting into place. 

And that feeling is damn scary.

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Six-hour flights.

The floor of (Y/N)’s living room is covered in wrapping paper. Reds and greens and silvers and golds hide what once was a nice dark cherry wood floor. There are bows and ribbons and gift tags in all shapes and sizes and colors. 

“ Looks like Santa’s workshop in here, “ Frankie exclaims as he drops down on the floor next to her. All the presents they’ve purchased, neatly lined up in front of them, ready to be wrapped. Though to be fair, Frankie is quite sure he’s not gonna do a lot of wrapping himself. Sometimes you gotta admit defeat. And he ain’t too proud to admit that he is a horrible, horrible wrapper. 

“ Yeah, I know I’m making a big fuss over things like this. Wrapping and the tree and stuff like that. I just — I don’t know it just makes me happy when I see that my actions put a smile on the faces of the people I love. “ 

“ Oh I wasn't judging. It’s sweet. “ 

For a while they stay in comfortable silence. Just them and the radio playing old Christmas songs. (Y/N)’s hands do quick work on the presents, Santa’s elves would be jealous. 

It’s the first time in a long time, that silence doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable. That it doesn’t open up the gates for the voices to grow louder and the bad images to consume his head. No, this silence feels comfortable. It’s soft and warm. It’s tinted in golds and reds. 

Maybe, he thinks, maybe seeking the company of someone who exudes joy and warmth does him good. Someone who knows him but not the bad. Never the bad. The faults, yes, the fears even, but not the blood that stains his hands or the vices he so desperately tries to fight.

“ What was the best Christmas present you ever got? “ (Y/N) speaks up as she glides a pair of scissors along the ribbon turning it into shiny curls. 

“ Millennium Falcon playset.” 

“ You and a million other little boys. “ 

“True. What can I say, I was easily pleased. What was yours ?”

(Y/N) thinks for a moment before a wistful smile settles on her face. 

“My bubblegum pink roller skates.”

“Oh, I remember those!”

And he did. Squeaky pink roller skates with 4 pastel blue wheels and glittery silver laces.

“I remember the following summer all you did was skate up and down the street.  “

“Yeeeah but that wasn’t entirely because of the skates.”

Frankie combs his hair from his face, he really needs to get it cut, and looks at her in confusion. “Huh?”

Another chuckle falls from (Y/N) ‘s lips. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”

“ Notice what?”

“That I had the biggest crush on you.”

Frankie is grateful for the fact that he’s not taking a sip of his drink right then, it surely would’ve ended in a spit-take. He was a nerdy kid, a nerdy teenager too. Kinda shy, a little lost. He wasn’t usually the boy that girls fancied.

“Me? You had a crush on me? “

It doesn’t make sense, not really. She was the one that was fascinating and exciting. Though he didn’t think of her that way when they were kids, he knew she was beautiful even back then. He hadn’t been interested in her romantically because she was a few years younger but that didn’t meanie didn’t realize the magic she held.

“Yes, you. You were cool, Frankie. You were older and you knew stuff about cars and planes and you could name every Star Wars spaceship and you had a skateboard. “

“I was a horrible skater.”

“Sure but it wasn’t so much about the skating as it was about the aesthetic. You were cool and you still are cool”

Frankie shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly. She thought he was cool, still does. No one ever thought he was cool. He isn’t a smooth talker like Pope and even he himself can admit that look wise he isn’t even playing in the same league as Will and Benny. But if (Y/N) thinks he’s cool that must mean something. Right ?

“You were the one traveling all over the world with your dad and you thought I was cool?”

She sets down the scissors, let’s her hands rest on her lap. There’s a sense of nervousness exuding from her now. Like the words she wants to speak are resting on the tip of her tongue and yet they are so difficult to speak.

“Maybe that was part of it too. I never had a real home. Nothing stable at least. Except for my grandparents’ house. This was home and you were, you are, forever entwined with my idea of home. Sometimes I missed this place so much that I’d sit in my room and my little brain would think of all the fun adventures we could go on if only I was old enough to hop on a 6 hour flight by myself. I’d ask grandma about you every time I called and she always told me what trouble you got into.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yeah and that only made you more exciting in my eyes. Then she’d offer to let me speak to you but I was too chicken shit to do it. Thought you might look right through my facade and realize how into you I was.”

“I was so oblivious, I can assure you I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Well … it’s too late now.”

“I guess so. Just — next time you fall in love with me let me know, alright.”

Her laugh rings through the room like bells, like songs, like whispers of a childhood magic long forgotten.

“That only sounds fair. It’s a deal.”

“Good, now …. would you mind wrapping my gifts for Rosie?”

“Nope, but in return would you come see Leo’s play with me next week? My dad can’t come and I think Leo would like to have some more people there that support him. And he seems to think you’re cool so …”

“Huh guess if you both think so it must be true.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Of course I’ll come. “

She smiles and it sends a weird flicker through him. Like fire, like electricity. 

“ Now let me teach you how to curl the ribbon properly.”

[mrslittletall]

Prompt: Mercy Killing

Fandom: Bloodborne Characters: Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower, Saint Adeline Word Count: 2.886 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18718291/chapters/62113327

Summary: Lady Maria takes care of the patients in the Research Hall, but one patient has a particular bad fate...

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Only three prompts remaining!

“Oh, Lady Maria, how good to see you.”

“Good morning, Frieda.”, Maria said. Like every morning, she came to the research hall. Like every morning, Frieda was there to greet her.

“Have you seen my eyes? I seem to have dropped them... in a puddle.”, Frieda said and like always, would start to search in a body of water. She long didn't had eyes anymore, her head a bloated mass of flesh.

It had happened to every patient in the research hall.

“I am afraid, I have not, Frieda.”, Maria said. “I will help you search later, yes? After I made my round. How about you come with me for breakfast?”

“Oh, Lady Maria, is that a promise?”, Frieda said. Her voice sounded cheerful, as if she was smiling, but there was no smile at her face. How could there be a smile, when she didn't possess a face anymore?

“Yes, it is.”, Maria said. “Come. Let's check on the others.”

Like every morning, Maria would make her round. Like every morning, Frieda would accompany her after she convinced her, that she would search for her eyes later. Like every morning, every patient in the Research Hall was delighted to see her. In fact, Maria was the only one who came to visit them outside of experiments and research.

Their families and friends didn't know. They all had been infected by the scourge. They had been brought in by the church in an attempt to cure them. The attempt had been to infuse all this poor people with an overload of arcane. They didn't turn into beasts, but instead... into that. Their body still human enough, their head a blobby mass of flesh and their mind in another plane of existence. It was pitiful. Laurence called them failures. Maria called them patients.

Nobody of them had deserved that fate.

Like every morning, Maria gathered more and more patients which she delivered to the room where they would take in their breakfast. A peculiar sight, because these people were missing mouths. The way they ate, it looked like they absorbed the food into their heads. It looked grotesque and it sounded even worse. Maria had gotten used to the sight over the last few weeks.

One patient wasn't with the others. There was one patient who was secluded from the others and Maria knew why. The woman with the name of Adeline had once been a blood saint. Even though she had been deformed beyond recognition, the church would still use her blood. Blood Saints were valuable.

Disgusting., Maria thought as she carried a tray to the room where Adeline was strapped on a chair. Once she had considered Laurence to be a friend. After seeing all the atrocities happening, atrocities she had been a part of, Maria was done with him. She had told him time and time again, that the blood may be dangerous, but he didn't want to listen. Instead of finding out, he tried another methods to stop the scourge. Methods that left people into a state he didn't had any other word for as “failure”.

Maria knocked at the door, carefully balancing the tray. “Adeline, it's me, Maria.”, she announced herself.

“Oh Lady Maria, come in, come in.”, a delighted voice came from the other side of the door.

Maria stepped in and said: “I brought breakfast.”

“Oh, did you bring some brain fluid? Murky, mushy brain fluid?”, Adeline said that in a tone as if she had asked Maria if there was bacon with the eggs.

“No, it's something far better.”, Maria smiled.

“Ah, well, I can still hear the sticky sound.”, Adeline said and her head seemed to rise, as if her gaze was going to the ceiling.

“I might not have brain fluid.”, Maria said. “But this morning there is some fresh yoghurt with your plate. That surely tastes better and sweeter.”

Maria kneeled down and loosened the straps around her arms, so that she could eat. She scrunched her face a bit at the slurping sounds. As used as she got to them, hearing them that close was still making her feeling a bit nauseous.

Maria's gaze went down as Adeline was “eating”, down at her arm, where there still was a needle sticking out. So that anyone could take her blood as they pleased. Not even that, Adeline would gladly give it to them. Every blood saint had been conditioned to happily give their blood away. Some of them were even still young girls, not older than twelve or thirteen. Maria could never understand how Laurence deemed it fine for them to work as blood saints.

This whole mess is at much your fault as it is his., the voice in Maria's head came to word. She sighed. She knew that, just... unless Laurence, Micolash and Gehrman, she actually tried to make up for her sins.

You are only taking care of the patients because of your guilt. It not for your guilt, you wouldn't care about them at all.

Maria bit on her lower lip until she tasted blood. The thoughts were back again, all the thoughts telling her just what a terrible person she was. This even started with her blood. A blood so vile that she swore to herself to never use.

“That was wonderful, Lady Maria.”, Adeline said after the last piece of food had been “absorbed”. “Next time, please bring me some brain fluid.”

Maria stood up, but didn't leave right away. Instead, she spoke: “Adeline, are you happy?”

“What are you talking about, Lady Maria?”, Adeline's blobby head bopped up and down, as if she was cocking her head.

“Are you happy... like this... being in here...”, Maria said. How should she put it? She couldn't ask if Adeline was happy having a big mass of flesh for a head as well as being strapped on a chair, only used for her blood.

“Oh, Maria, I am happy as long as you visit me.”, Adeline said. “I am happy as long as I can hear the sticky sound. If I wouldn't have been accepted in here, wouldn't I have been killed before becoming a beast?”

“...”, Maria didn't answer right away, knowing that Adeline's fate would have been death otherwise. Though, she couldn't help but ask herself if maybe death would be a better fate for Adeline, who sat on the chair day in and day out, got her blood harvested and asked Maria for brain fluid every time she visited.

Maria reached into her pocket and felt a certain key. It was the key to the balcony. The patients normally weren't allowed there because they could fall or, and the church considered that the worse scenario, escape and be known to the public. Maybe she should...

No, the church ministers would be there soon. If she would unfasten Adeline's bindings so that she could leave, they would notice. It had to wait.

“We will see each other this evening, Adeline.”, Maria said and left the room after fastening Adeline's arm back to the chair, hearing her say: “Aaah, the sticky sound. Drip Drop... Drip Drop...”

Maria closed the day behind her with a sigh. Well, it was time to take care of the other patients for now. During the day, Maria once again helped Frieda find her eyes, only for her to know that she would search for them again the next day, had to prevent Isaac from smashing his “head” against the wall and once again had to catch Tilda, who was under the delusion she was a robin and nearly jumped off the balcony.

Yes, all these people hadn't turned into beasts, but their minds were at a different place. A lot of them talked about water and dripping sounds. A topic that made Maria shudder as she felt the coldness creeping on her skin. It reminded her of the Hamlet and the atrocities she had committed there. Could it be that the patients somehow saw the events of the Hamlet in their delusions? But how?

Whatever, it wasn't Maria's job to find out, it was her job to make them feel better (to make herself feel better) and so she spent the whole day with the patients, talking with them, playing with them, taking care that they wouldn't hurt themselves and soon, evening had rolled and they all had met in the room where they would take in their dinner. Maria was taking a serving to Adeline. Guilt., she thought. The only reason why I still hang around here... Wouldn't it be... wouldn't it be better for them to be dead...?

No, how could she think about his. That was the same mindset that the Healing Church had. If someone was infected, instead of trying to cure them, kill them, get rid of them. However, the beasts were truly dangerous, she had seen time and time again. The patients in here... they weren't a threat. They were locked away anyway. There was no reason to get rid of them, but... were they happy? Being locked in here day in, day out, living in their delusions? When she wouldn't interfere, some of them would have already killed themselves. Maria started to ask herself, if they actually wanted it. That under their delusions, they still were there and they were begging her to be free.

Maria shook her head to get these thoughts out of her head. She had done enough killing. That part of her life was over. She knocked at the door and entered once Adeline called her in. Adeline sat on her chair like usual and greeted her. “Good evening, Lady Maria.”, she said and then her head contracted a few times. “Ah, that smell, you must bring soup.”

“It's good to see that you still have a taste for things other than brain fluid.”, Maria said, kneeling down next to Adeline and unfastening her arms, so that she could eat on her own. Her gaze fell on the one that was used to draw blood of her, it was bruised and looked painful. Even with her accelerated healing as a Blood Saint, having so much of your blood taken every day, that started to take a toll.

“I had some brain fluid earlier.”, Adeline said. “Murky, mushy brain fluid... But... Lady Maria, your soup tastes even sweeter.”

Maria's gaze darkened a bit. Just what did the Church do? Which kind of experiments did they run on Adeline? She was there, strapped to a chair, having to give blood every day and then they even encouraged her delusions about the brain fluid... A much worse thought was, who even did they use to get brain fluid?

Maria suddenly felt nauseous.

As Adeline was eating, Maria felt into her pocket and closed her fingers around the key to the balcony. Once Adeline was done, she took the plate and pressed the key into Adeline's hands. “Here, take this.”, Maria said.

“Oh, what is that?”, Adeline said, dangling the key in front of her “face”.

“Let's just say, it is a charm that can ease your mind.”, Maria said. She then kneeled down again and unfastened the straps around Adeline's legs. The church ministers were gone for the day, it was just fair for Adeline to get out of this sticky room for once.

“Good night, Adeline. May the faint breeze give you comfort.”

That night, Maria slept unwell. The memories of the Hamlet were deep. Her guilt was even deeper. Eventually she gave up and decided to clean her room. As she was busy, he found her Rakuyo in the corner. Why did she even hold onto that? She wasn't a Hunter anymore. She should get rid of it. Maria decided to take it her the next day and discard of it once she was done caring for the patients for the day.

She laid awake for the rest of the night, wallowing in her guilt, and got up once the sun shone through her window, no need to try and get some sleep anymore. She freshened herself up, got dressed, picked up the Rakuyo and went to the Research Hall like every morning, where Frieda searched for her eyes again and she personally brought her to the breakfast room before going to visit Adeline.

As soon as she entered the room, Adelina spoke: “Oh Lady Maria, Lady Maria. You shouldn't have untied me last night. The church doctors will get mad when they see. Can you help tie me to the chair again?”

“Adeline.”, Maria said, slowly putting the tray she had carried on a dresser next to her. “Have you been here the whole night?”

“Where should I go, Lady Maria?”, Adeline cocked her head. “I have everything I need here. Food. Your company. Brain fluid.” The last words sounded joyous, too joyous for Maria's taste.

“I'll ask you again, Adeline. Are you truly happy like this?”, Maria asked, her voice low.

“Lady Maria...”, Adeline said and the joyous tone of her voice receded. “...I knew that the alternative would have been to turn... I... arranged myself with my fate.”

Maria stared at Adeline in surprise. That had been true words for once, not the mad rambling that the patients normally did. Deep down in there, there was still her true self, a self that must have loathed what she became.

“It's fine, Adeline.”, Maria said and her fingers slipped around the handle of her Rakuyo. “You don't have to suffer anymore.”

It was over in a second. Maria's hand were shaking as she removed the blade from Adeline's chest, tears spilling out of her eyes. Blood gushed out of the wound as Adeline's body slumped over, limp and lifeless. It was over. Death was the better fate for her than being used as source of the blood for as long as she lived.

“Lady Maria?” Maria gasped as she heard the voice. Adeline's voice. But... that couldn't be! She had just taken her life! How could Adeline talk to her?

As Maria slowly looked down, she saw that the limp body of Adeline had started moving again. The wound on her chest was closing. Maria knew that blood saints had great healing abilities, but that was ridiculous. She had been a huntress. She knew that she hadn't missed any vital organs.

“Oh, Lady Maria, I have made a mess.”, Adeline said. “My precious blood cannot be spilled. Please... please help me collect it, Lady Maria.”

Maria stared at Adeline, the obvious blood stain on her gown and then at her Rakuyo, coated with the exact same blood. She suddenly started to feel sick.

“I... I need to go.”, Maria murmured and rushed out of the Research Hall. What had she even been thinking? She had decided that Adeline's life hadn't been worthwhile, she had practically killed her and Adeline didn't even have any ill feelings for her.

These hands of Maria were never made to protect, they were made to destroy. She never should hold a weapon in her hands ever again.

As Maria travelled to her destination, there was one lingering thought in her mind. Adeline had come back to life. She had been dead, Maria was sure of it, but she had come back to life as if nothing ever had happened to here.

Where all the other patients in the Research Hall immortal too? If one day she wouldn't catch Tilda and they had to scrape their remains of the floor, would she just put herself together and get up and try fly again?

Did Laurence knew about that?

Whatever the answer was, Maria wouldn't get it. She never ever would raise her blade against one of the patients ever again. She would catch Tilda every time when she jumped. She was the only one who was there for them.

As Maria exited the carrier she had taken, she was standing in front of the Fishing Hamlet.

She swallowed down bile as she went into the village, the swallow water pooling in her boots. She remembered how she and Gehrman had been ordered to slaughter the villagers, bring the corpses back to Willem who had cut them open to search for eyes. How the both of them had cut a bloody path to the corpse of the Great One. How Laurence had used the confusion of the battle to harvest the blood of the the corpse.

If the Great Ones managed to exist after their death, there was no reason that particular one should ever forgive them for what they had done. And if Maria had a choice, she would want to act as its guardian, so that nobody would find the secret of the Hamlet ever again. Alas, that all was in the past and there was nothing Maria could change about it anymore.

She stopped in front of a well and tossed her Rakuyo inside, her face scrunched up in disgust. She would never hold a weapon ever again.

Once Maria heard a splash, she turned around without looking back. There were some patients who were waiting for her. (Author's note: Hmm... that isn't actually my idea for canon, just a “what if” idea based on item descriptions, because I thought it was fitting the prompt pretty well.)

[darkestwolfx]

Bolt from the Blue - Re-Review #42

“Isn’t that something else?”

Yes, because when has a giant, blue laser in the sky transmitting solar energy down to Earth ever been a good idea in the world of Thunderbirds Are Go? Oh no, nobody panic, this is a completely innocent piece of machinery.

Look at Parker getting all technical.

“Mr Kinnear!”

This poor man just can’t catch a break can he? He finally came to his senses and left behind the waste of space that is Fischler - honestly I wouldn’t have stayed working for that man as long as this guy did - only to end up with what seems like his sister?

And after all this, he ends up saying;

“This still beats working at Fischler Industries!”

That, can only tell us what an absolutely terrible employer Fischler was. Considering we don’t see him again I’m wondering if the GDF finally did something about him...

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. We have some... safety overrides to make sure nothing could possibly go wrong.”

And you were saying? Honestly, this show has jinxes everywhere.

Did Miss Edmunds remind anyone else of another familiar face that makes your skin crawl? I’ll leave you a hint.

So, I love this episode. It might partially be because there’s a panda in it - and yes, I work with pandas - but there are other reasons too and I’m sure we’ll get to them.

Firstly let us address the plane struck by ‘lightning’.

“The plane’s gilding but losing altitude. There are four in need of evacuation. Two pilots, one child.”

“That’s only three. Who’s the fourth?”

“Brains, you want to tell them?”

“It’s transporting a rare giant panda in the cargo bay.”

“Ok, four to save, one’s a panda.”

Scott - honestly the way he says that line gets me every time!

“Gordon can go with Virgil and help with the evacuation.”

“Yes! I’ve always wanted to see a giant panda up close!”

“That’s not likely to happen.”

“You’re crushing my dreams, Brains!”

“But it’s in a sealed, environmentally controlled container-”

“La la la la la - I can’t hear you!”

Honestly, weren’t Gordon and EOS made for each other? They could encourage each other to be like children forever.

And so now we’ve got to another of those reasons I mentioned - it’s Gordon’s facial expressions (throughout the whole episode). So, this is officially the world’s most disappointed face.

“They appear to be highly charged plasma bolts.”

Hoorah for that... Just what we need. Well, we’ve never had a rescue like it, that’s for sure.

“Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a pre-sentation?”

“Perhaps you should see what he wants.”

“Oh I’m sure it can wait. The safety commission will shut us down without your approval. So I want to make sure you approve.”

Yeah... definitely a relation to Fischler.

Brains, John already got what they were without you.

"A solar collector.”

Shall we send Thunderbird Three to investigate?”

“We may not have to. Lady Penelope’s already on board.”

“John, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Not sure it’s a pleasure to nearly be torn apart by plasma bolts, but hey.

“Hang on Captain, we’ll get you out of there.”

I think this is a speak too soon moment.

“We’re about to go critical.”

“Does that mean ka-bloom then?”

“ka-bloom”, I love that, it’s very Parker.

“Surely you have a way to reset something like this?”

“I’m a sales director, not an engineer! Did I mention we have three delightful colours to chose from?”

No you didn’t until now, and please don’t mention it again. I think the colour of the episode is set at blue anyway.

This episode really does get off to a dramatic run.

“Thunderbird One’s been hit!”

“Same here! We’re all going down!”

“No one panic! That bolt must have overloaded our circuit breakers. We’ll try rebooting.”

I love how Scott is completely in control here. I mean, it’s believable considering that TOS always made him out to be a honoured pilot. We saw him save Anderbad City with some pretty good flying to in ‘Fight or Flight’. Also, as the eldest we would expect him to have more experience and considering he’s taking over as leader from their dad, you would have expected him to have a pretty level head. This is a complete change however to his reactions in ‘Up from the Depths’ and a little in ‘Heavy Metal’ where he was reliant on others to help him fix his own ship and flight pattern. Either we’re meant to see that he learnt from these events, or that these are anomalies in the writing process.

“Gordon, flip the switch.”

“No problem, just like when your hairdryer blows a fuse at Tracy Island.”

“What? What do you mean my hairdryer!”

Another nice little TOS reference here - in ‘Operation Crash Dive’, Gordon saves Fireflash by treating it like fixing a fuse before he later fixes the TV on Tracy Island, claiming the same.

“Gordon has flight control. Try to keep us in the air!”

“Relax, if more plasma bolts hit, I’ll use your hairdryer trick again.”

“One time. One time that happened!”

Admittance is still admittance, Virgil. I love how Gordon can get things out of people by just being persistently annoying.

Just taking some air, ey, Virgil? Big brother to the rescue. I sense Scott likes doing that.

“Scott... little help!”

“I’m jetting down now. Try not to move.”

“Ready, step!”

“Got it! Thanks for the boost.”

“Any time.”

In fairness, I think this scene is a little piece of genius and it’s another scene that contributes towards my love of this episode. So, here come the reasons;

1. I think it would take an awful lot for Virgil to ask for help, even from his brothers. Even in ‘Skyhook’ and ‘Earthbreaker’ when Thunderbird Two was going down, he didn’t ask for help. He accepted it yes, but he didn’t actually ask for anyone to come and save him.

2. So, accidentally, Virgil ended up in danger of either falling into the ocean, or worse, being hit my a plasma beam. As a result of that, Scott’s comes to his rescue. Now this, puts Scott in danger too, because if either of them took a direct hit there would be bad things. But this isn’t even thought about or discussed, which totally fits in character (especially for these two). The level of reaction here is what matters, and the danger they throw themselves into for each other will be thought about later.

3. The worry and relief. You can tell they have shared worries about this and the dialogue projects this so, so well. In those five lines is everything we need to know about their emotional states.

4. It’s not often these boys have to rescue each other, but when they do (like with Alan&John in ‘EOS’, the instant response seems to be to cover up the fear; “Thanks Alan, I was really sweating there at the end.” “I noticed.” And this dialogue is doing the same thing. The clock is ticking, the situation is precarious and yet what we get is the use of simple words as part of a conversation meaning something completely different. The power of words is transformative, and whenever they can be used with double meanings, they carry so much more strength. People in real life often never say things as they mean. It’s like with death - we don’t often use the word in conversation, we’ll refer to it as something else, and this is exactly what the Tracy boys do - they face danger head on, and they skirt around the less nice possibilities, whilst knowing what they are potentially confronting the whole time, just without saying it. Because we all know once things are said, they are hard to take back.

5. Childlike brotherhood. The nature of this scenes very much takes me back to imagining a younger Scott and Virgil helping each other out with the simplest of things like learning to ride a bike. There’s a very clear, well-built, brotherly relationship shown in this scene, and that comes across so well, in the dialogue that could refer to nearly any other situation, than hanging for your life from a doomed plane only miles above the ocean with plasma bolts trying to hit you.

So, who was the mastermind behind this excellent scene? Elly Brewer is mainly known for writing episodes for the Tracy Beaker series’, which is a completely different kettle of fish to something like Thunderbirds Are Go. She wrote ‘Lost Kingdom’ which was another fantastic episode, and this is (unfortunately) the only other script she wrote for this series. I think this is an absolute shame as her handle on the brother’s was perfect, and her use of dialogue was perfectly balanced out to disguise/contain other feelings whilst commenting on the action. A someone who also has ambitions to be a writer, she is a real example of how to write character interaction. I believed every inch of this script - not only for this scene, but for every scene and every character - and okay, the acting brought it to life, but a good script often allows for good acting, so they come as a pair most of the time.

I’ve already mentioned above my feelings regarding Scott in this episode (who is portrayed again, as a really strong pilot, just like how Dan Berlinka wrote him in ‘Fight or Flight’.) I’m not trying to slate or show anyone up here, but I feel like compared to Ben Townsend, Brewer and Berlinka had a much better handle on the character of Scott Tracy. Don’t mistake me here, Townsend has written some amazing scripts for Thunderbirds Are Go - ‘Heavy Metal’, ‘Up from the Depths’, ‘Brains Vs. Brawn’ (and more I won’t list them all) - but interestingly two of the above I’ve mentioned, are also the two episodes where I felt the discrepancies with Scott’s skills as a pilot creeping in. I love both episodes for their content and some perfect moments, but it definitely feels like Townsend is uncomfortable or at conflict writing for Scott (in places, because he did give us some amazing moments like Scott&Ned, but I think there are definitely points where I question his decisions, especially against strong episodes like this and ‘Fight or Flight’ which put Scott very much in the driving seat). ‘Inferno’ -which I think is one of the best scripts written for this series, with it’s realism and excellent interactions - is also one of Townsend’s works for this series and (apart from maybe ‘Up from the Depths’) is what I consider to be his best work. It is interesting that Scott does not appear here though.

Remember that this is all only my opinion, and as always, I’m more than happy for you to disagree with me. That’s the whole point of discussions, and please feel free to discuss it (I will reply, although it might be at some point later in the week). Dropping it to my ask box may be easier than in the comments if you do with to have a full length discussion.

“Virgil, we’re almost at the water!”

“Release the plane and pull out. Repeat, pull out!”

Some of that quick thinking made towards an awesome rescue. I mean, the plane went down, but really who cares about that? There was nothing in it, and a plane can be rebuilt.

“Sorry Brains.”

“For what?”

“It’s time for you to go.”

Lady Penelope has way better aim than I do!

“Careful Parker, the walls are burning up!”

“You don’t ‘ave to tell me twice. hOh boy, hit’s ‘ot hin ‘ere. Blast! Missed.”

“Go on, Parker! I’ve got you!”

“Much hobliged, M’Lady.”

Parker is just a grade one badass. Look at him go! And Parker and Lady Penelope are an absolute perfect duo. Their teamwork is always spot on and their relationship is brilliantly explored in scenes like this. Lady Penelope has always been a considerate character, but high society (in the past at least) have always been assumed to have had a lack of care for those below them (I’m sure there were those who did, but history just records the majority). Lady Penelope has such care for Parker - probably as much as he has for her - and scenes like this are perfect for showing exactly what makes their partnership work. It’s very give and take, even when it seemed like Parker is just driving her around. She’s always got his back and it was lovely to have another scene showing that off.

Still think it’s “a perfect take your daughter to work day”? They definitely picked a day!

“Woah, I’m in Thunderbird Two!”

“The panda’s doing just fine. I heard him munching on bamboo.”

“Aww!”

Look at that thinking face of love and affection.

“Thank you for saving him.”

“You’re welcome. We love having satisfied customers.”

“Yeah, furry or otherwise.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Oh...”

“Thank you.”

“Can I go see Mr Panda now?”

“I think he’ll like you.”

“Really?!”

And this is the world’s happiest face! Gordon has achieved his dream. Having seen pandas myself, I can completely understand why it was a dream of his. Also, the Gordon and Virgil interaction (in this whole episode, but especially here where words aren’t even needed) is just absolute perfection!

And now to tie up some loose ends;

“I may lose my job over this, but I am not gonna lose my life!”

I think you might have lost that anyway. I mean, I think the GDF are gonna be putting her on trial for this.

“Oh now, isn’t that sweet! I didn’t expect a welcome back committee!”

“She realises that we’re arresting her, doesn’t she?”

“I don’t know.”

Don’t worry mate, I don’t think any of us would really know how to deal with her. She’s positively crazy.

See what I did there? Her annoying talking has rubbed off on me!

[3smuth]

To the Champions of Kamigawa

Not too long ago, Blogatog slipped back into a familiar discussion about Kamigawa and its popularity – more specifically, the lack thereof. In the process, a lot of old arguments arose about the set’s power level, about its proximity to Mirrodin, and the state of Standard at the time it was released. And as true as all of those things are, MaRo has made clear that when he refers to the popularity of Kamigawa as a setting, there are several axes on which they grade a set, and that Kamigawa was unpopular in all of them. And yet, people continue to claim that the creative, the setting, the world of Kamigawa just wasn’t given a fair shake. The fact is, that’s just not true.

Now to be completely clear, I personally liked Kamigawa block. At the time I was no good at evaluating the power level of cards so that hardly mattered to me, and many of the elements of the block seemed cool, different, and just ~weird~ enough to catch my attention. But the thing that’s important to understand is that “weird” is – almost by definition – not popular. There is a certain amount of weirdness, of newness, of difference that players expect and even demand from every set, but every degree of just weirdness you put into your work beyond that actually just makes the finished product more inaccessible to a general audience. When you play up weird for weird’s sake, you just make it hard for people to connect with it.

Kamigawa turned ~weird~ up to 11. I think a lot of the champions of Kamigawa underestimate just how off-putting the setting really was for an average consumer. So I thought it might be useful to go through piece-by-piece and try to evaluate how much weirdness there really was in the set, and how much of that weirdness was going needlessly beyond what the average player demanded.

--

Kami - We might as well start with the elephant in the room – or perhaps the unrecognisably surreal mass of tusks and trunks that would be the Kami of the Elephant in the Room. The Kami introduced more weirdness into the set than every other element combined, and this was actually by design: they were fully intended to seem otherworldly, that was how they were selling the premise of the plane. The problem here is not with that intent, but with the execution: the Kami were not only very, very weird, they took up so much of the set that they would have pushed the set over its weirdness quota entirely on their own. Nearly half of all the creature cards on Kamigawa were Spirits, and the art for nearly every one of them looks like it was contrived by Salvador Dali – while this is a cool effect individually, forcing players to try and wrap their brains around this several times in every pack they open is just way too taxing. Again, even with none of the other things on this list, the Kami (as they were executed the first time around) likely would’ve turned off enough players to make Kamigawa a middling set. But, of course, they didn’t stop there.

--

Characteristic Races - While the Kami were designed to feel alien and otherworldly, the other side of the conflict was intended to feel material, corporeal - to feel familiar. Additionally, it had the responsibility of communicating the theme of the set, delivering on tropes that would allow players to recognise the setting as inspired by Japan. This overloading of responsibilities - serving as both the familiar contrast to the surreal Kami, but also as the unfamiliar contrast to a normal Magic setting - would've been a difficult task for any setting, but let's consider how well it was delivered upon here.

Kitsune - I’d consider the Kitsune a 'success', insofar as foxes are something the average person might actually be able to see a connection to Japan in. The problem with the execution here is that while the typeline clearly claimed these creatures were foxes, the creatures themselves were designed around a stylised representation of foxes used in traditional masks – a very specific element of the culture that the average person wouldn’t be able to connect. Red elements on actual anthropomorphized foxes would’ve been cool; having some of the Kitsune wear actual masks would’ve been cool; but taking away nearly all the identifiable features of foxes for the sake of a reference most players were never going to get? Needlessly - and unsuccessfully - weird.

Soratami - Whereas the Kitsune were something some portion of the audience would find resonant with Japan that was simply executed in a way that made them inaccessible, the Soratami were inaccessible from the ground up. The association of rabbits with the moon is much less well-known, and the Soratami are even more ambiguously rabbits than the Kitsune are foxes – the typeline isn’t even used to inform it. That said, the idea of Moonfolk is actually cool enough that I think this would have been a successful application of weirdness in isolation, but in practice it just became one more inaccessible reference that most players couldn’t follow.

Nezumi - An outlier on the plane, the Nezumi actually succeed – amazingly enough – in looking like what they are. The biggest issue here is that there’s no particular resonance between rats and Japan for most of the audience, but offbeat anthro races are something they still do from time to time, and I can’t lodge a specific complaint about it here. Probably not coincidentally, the Nezumi were my favourite characteristic race on Kamigawa.

Akki - Many planes have Goblins, and apparently Kamigawa is no exception. The goblins of Kamigawa look relatively little like traditional Goblins, instead drawing on folk stories of the kappa and adopting shells. This is doubly weird: most players aren’t going to know anything about the kappa, and those that do are going to know them as amphibious, river-dwelling monsters, not analogs to Magic’s Goblins. Now personally, I quite like when they change up the look of familiar characteristic races to show the differences between planes – Tarkir and Ixalan did so pretty successfully – so I’m not highly inclined to complain about the Akki, but I can’t help but feel it’s a little forced when the change doesn’t even make sense to those familiar with the source.

Ogres - These aren’t technically a characteristic race, but they show up in enough numbers that they’re worth mentioning. Interestingly, the oni tropes that Kamigawa’s ogres play into actually line up reasonably well with traditional ogres, so they don’t actually seem particularly weird. I actually think the Ogre/Demon execution on oni was pretty successful, with most of those cards being understandable even to those who aren’t familiar with the source material, yet still unfamiliar enough to communicate that we aren't in Kansas anymore. Again, one of my favourite aspects of the original block.

Orochi - The Orochi, however, somehow manage to do everything wrong at once. They fail to look like the snakes they claim to be, trading in snakes’ single most identifiable feature (all tail with no limbs) for the literal opposite of that (six (!!) limbs with no tail), but even if they did look like snakes, nobody particularly associates Japan with snakes anyway. I honestly can’t even figure out what they were trying to do with these, but whatever it was I can't say that they succeeded at it.

--

Humans: Given the strangeness of the other races, the bulk of the responsibility for familiarity fell upon the humans of Kamigawa - and in a sense, they achieved that: the Samurai felt like Samurai, and the Ninjas felt like Ninjas. But bear in mind that these things would themselves be the ~weird~ elements of any other set. These things on their own would have met much of the demand for new and different that most players had, but instead of serving that role they were forced to provide comfort and familiarity – a role they weren’t particularly well-suited for, and actively prevented them from capitalising on how cool and different they were. When the most familiar part of the set isn’t actually fundamentally familiar, it makes the entire set feel inaccessible, which is exactly the effect that Kamigawa had on so many players.

--

Other denizens: In the entire block, there are exactly three creature cards that are not one of the types listed above: one hound, one insect, and one beast. What this meant, more than anything, is that there was no real refuge for players who weren’t into what the block was doing. If a player who loves Green creatures found the Kami too surreal, and the Orochi too confusing, and just didn’t particularly resonate with the monks of Jukai, there was next to nothing for them in the entire block. One card in the last set, and even that is more than Red, Blue, or Black got. Modern Magic sets make sure to have individual cards that are individually appealing, so that when players don’t buy into the set as a whole, there is at least something there to catch them. And this was probably Kamigawa’s biggest failing overall: not only did it force players to ante up to a lot of weirdness, but when they weren’t willing to buy in it sent a clear message that they weren't welcome. If you really want to understand why so many players felt like Kamigawa wasn’t for them, it’s because the set told them it wasn’t. They just listened.

--

Now, there are lots of things they could have done better. A lower density of Spirits, and toning down some of the more surreal aspects, especially in the common ones: a tangled mass of human limbs with multiple faces and floating, disembodied eyes can certainly be a thing that exists in the world, but does it need to exist in every pack? More resonant and relatable characteristic races would help: make foxfolk enjoyable for people who just think foxes are cute, or introduce a characteristic Green race that doesn’t make you wonder how someone forgot the name for a snake with legs is “lizard”. They could have thrown in more random Japanese tropes, rather than tying every element of the set so tightly together that nothing else fit: it looks like they came accidentally close to including a Boar-Deer-Butterfly trio in Saviors, but loosening up the themes could have allowed for much more of that. There are lots of things they could have done, but didn’t – and the world they would’ve ended up with if they had would be different enough from the Kamigawa we got as to be largely unrecognisable.

And that becomes the fundamental question going forward: is there a way to completely rework the 90% of the setting that didn’t go over well without it feeling like something fundamentally different? And if 90% of the setting needs reworked anyway, should we really bother constricting ourselves to the 10% that was decent? I won't pretend Kamigawa didn't have successes (the Spirit Dragons, for example, are still quite popular to this day) but whether revisiting those successes warrants the limitations that a return would demand is a question that has to be approached very critically. And it's a question that many of Kamigawa's champions may not like the answer to.

[NOTE: I actually wrote up this post about a week ago, and I resolved that I'd simply post it whenever the topic cropped up again. Mark answered a question about Snakes that led to a small discussion about the Orochi in the comments, and I figured that was cause enough for me. Enjoy!]

[eldritchsurveys]

642.

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you? >> I’ve definitely had moments where I wondered about it, but I can’t really take solipsism all that seriously. 2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you? >> Assuming 1 is “not at all”, then 1. I wasn’t even afraid of it as a child. The dark was where my stories came to life. 3. The person you would never want to meet? >> *shrug* 4. What is your favorite word? >> I can’t think of one right now. 5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be? >> I’m not sure. Something like a sequoia, maybe.

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought? >> I don’t look in the mirror in the morning, usually. Nothing I do in the morning requires a mirror. I can go for days without bothering to take more than a cursory glance in a mirror. 7. What shirt are you wearing? >> A black one with a Warcraft logo on it. 8. What do you label yourself as? >> It depends on what aspect of my identity I’m being asked to define... and to whom. 9. Bright room or dark room? >> Oh, a dark room, if I had to choose between these two. But a dim room is the most preferable -- a little soft ambient light eases the eyestrain that I would get from looking at a screen in the dark. 10. What were you doing at midnight last night? >> Reading, most likely. 11. Favorite age you’ve been so far? >> --- 12. Who told you they loved you last? >> Sparrow. 13. Your worst enemy? >> --- 14. What is your current desktop picture? >> At the moment, it’s concept artwork from the video game Tyranny. My background changes every ten minutes or so. 15. Do you like someone? >> There are people I like, sure. 16. The last song you listened to? >> According to Last.fm, Don’t You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds. 17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? >> I mean, what for? That seems like a pointlessly silly thing to do.

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? >> --- 19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do? >> I have no desire to keep slaves. I sometimes think it’d be nice to have a service boy, though. Just, you know, since we’re on the subject. 20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional) >> --- 21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do? >> --- 22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it? >> No. 23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of? >> Nothing. 24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal. >> Er... 25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it? >> I’d just hang onto it until I needed it for something. 26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go? >> You lost me at “you have to leave immediately”. I’m in my jammies in bed, dude, I’m not going anywhere. 27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be? >> Oh, Pernod or Lucid Absinthe, without question. 28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? >> Okay, I’m a pretty cool dude and all but I do not have the ability to singlehandedly run a society. That is not at all a smart move. Can I just build a summer home on the island or something, like, damn. 29. What is your favorite expletive? >> What isn’t my favourite expletive. 30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno? >> Yawn. 31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? >> From what I’ve learnt about memory and the way brains are wired, this is probably impossible anyway (or, at least, possible but it will fuck your brain up). But even if it were possible without horrible repercussions, I don’t want it. 32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world! >> Oh no, I’ve been found out-- 33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back? >> I’d really rather not. Death would understand. 34. What was your last dream about? >> Well, by now I don’t remember. 36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? >> Little over a dozen times. 37. Have you ever built a snowman? >> No. I never quite got the hang of it. 38. What is the color of your socks? >> I’m not wearing socks. 39. What type of music do you like? >> The audible kind. 40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets? >> There’s something about sunrises that I love just a little more than sunsets. I’m not sure what it is yet. But it’s definitely something. 41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? >> On those rare occasions I feel like drinking a milkshake, I stick to vanilla. Or cookies and cream. 42. What football team do you support? >> — 43. Do you have any scars? >> I have a skillion scars. 44. What do you want to be when you graduate? >> — 45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? >> Mehhhh. 46. Are you reliable? >> I have the capacity to be. 47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be? >> I don’t want to do this. It’s another hypothetical situation that fucks with my perception of time and the universe. 48. Do you hold grudges? >> Not often. 49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create? >> Ooh, I’d like to know what would happen if you crossbred a capybara and an elephant. I’m so serious. 50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had? >> I’m not too sure. I used to live in New York – conversations that’d be considered unusual elsewhere are often considered usual ones there. But a lot of the conversations I’ve had with Claire Elliott Fields would probably take all the cakes. I’ve never met anyone else like her in my life. 51. Are you a good liar? >> I have the capacity to be. 52. How long could you go without talking? >> I could go days and days without speaking a single word to anyone except inworlders. I did used to have a lot more nonverbal days due to stress and overload, but nowadays it’s not as likely. I do still prefer to have long stretches of comfortably not speaking, though. Speaking can be very taxing. 53. What has been you worst haircut/style? >> I don’t know. 54. Have you ever baked your own cake? >> No. 55. Can you do any accents other than your own? >> Probably not as accurately as one would like. 56. What do you like on your toast? >> Butter and cinnamon, or butter and jelly. Or butter and peanut butter. Listen, butter has to be involved somewhere, that’s the only rule. 57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of? >> Something in my “things to practice drawing” folder. Probably a face. 58. What would be you dream car? >> --- 59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain. >> I sing in there sometimes. I don’t think anything I do in the shower is unusual, aside from the fact that I prefer it to be dark/dim and I don’t want to be able to see any surfaces. Also, the shower (the bathroom in general) in this apartment makes me feel claustrophobic, and I guess leaving the door open and freaking out when the shower curtain touches me is unusual... 60. Do you believe in aliens? >> I think aliens are a reasonable possibility. Especially when you let go of the idea that they have to be humanoid. 61. Do you often read your horoscope? >> No. 62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? >> V. 63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons? >> I like dragons. 64. What do you think about babies? >> Most of the time I think they’re amusing, gross, loud, endearing, entertaining, and exhausting. You know. Kind of like their adult counterparts--

[kpopfanfictrash]

Walkers (II)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jimin / Jungkook

Creative Content Contributors: @baebae-goodnight it’s ya girl, and she’s back with another moodboard that perfectly captures the vibe of the fic.

Rating: PG-13 (strong concepts, dark concepts) 

Word Count: 6,281

Genre: Fantasy / Sci-Fi; dystopian!AU, magic!AU

Description: There are some beings in the world who can walk in both this one and the next. They exist on two planes – one, the concrete land of buildings and people; the other, a shadowy landscape of dreams and blurred reality. Everyone thought they disappeared though, everyone thought they were gone. You thought this as well, until you began having the dreams.

Chapter Two: The Seer

With a noise like a zap, or a zonk, you burst out in a field.

Stumbling at the resurgence of gravity, you gasp out loud –

– only for Jimin to appear beside you, still tightly holding your hand.

Where he existed previous to now, you haven’t the faintest idea. His hand is grasped warmly in yours – it feels as though it always has been. You would have felt the weight of any disturbance and yet, you blink, disoriented by his appearance. It feels as though the entire universe has reshuffled or, perhaps your particles have reshuffled the world.

“Fuck,” Jimin gasps, letting go of you to drop his hands to his knees. His chest rises and falls with each breath; his forehead is rosy, dotted with sweat.

The removal of his hand is alienating and so, you stuff both of yours in your pockets – as though to hide all physical evidence of your loneliness.

This is when you realize, the world around you is purple.

Strange, varied hues of it – every shade and depth of the color imaginable. Your mouth gapes and you blink several times, as though to rid yourself of the visage. Each time that you do though, the scenery remains. Or – you can’t seem to grasp any empirical evidence otherwise, which means this must be the truth. Things without evidence are often lies. Turning around in a slow circle, your brain balks at the rejection of everything you once believed.

“Welcome to Lilac.”

With a start, Jimin’s voice reminds you that you are not alone on this planet. Glancing to him, you find Jimin has pushed himself upright; one arm of his leans lackadaisically against a tree – the trunk of which is the palest shade of lavender, in contrast to grape-colored leaves.

“I – what?” you gasp, a strangled sound. 

No part of ‘Welcome to Lilac’ illuminates your situation – one second, you were in Jimin’s house and now, well, you have no idea. Taking a shaky step forward, you spread your hands in the air. Wriggling them experimentally, they seem to obey every order. 

This all seems real, you must say. It’s just, you’ve never dreamt of such a beautiful world before. Only nightmares.

The sky above you is the color of night. Dark ink, swirled with onyx and in the middle are stamped two bright-colored suns. Overly so, they burn dusk-red on the horizon, illuminating the cavernous field that you stand in. 

There are two suns in the sky, not one.

“Oh, my fucking god,” you whisper, unable to look away.

Pushing himself off of the tree, Jimin comes closer. “I know – it is a lot to take in, the first time that you travel. I remember back when I – hey! Whoa!” he yelps, when you fly suddenly towards him and begin to pummel his chest with your fists.

“Where the,” you gasp, punching Jimin as hard as you can in the side, “fuck,” another punch, this one to his elbow, “are we?”

The words are hissed between breath, intent upon beating the shit out of him – until you glance up and realize Jimin is no longer there. Jimin waves at you, off to the side and you frown in confusion, when you realize you have been punching at nothing.

Both your hands fall limp. “I – what just happened?”

Jimin laughs at your expression – actually laughs – which makes you think perhaps you were wrong, earlier. Maybe you are dreaming, because several hours prior, you thought the surly Walker not capable of such an emotion. But then a breeze wafts past you, carrying with it the faint tang of citrus and you wonder what kind of dreams are able to produce smell. Well, the scent is probably not citrus, you reason; just something like it. There’s no guarantee this world even has food; not in the human sense of the word.

Shivering, you realize this is the truth of things. This is another world. You are standing on another world, another planet and somehow, Jimin brought you here. Grass tickling your ankles, you take an uncertain step forward. The color of the grass is mauve, another strange shade and you bend, brushing fingertips over the top. It might be your imagination, but the wind seems to whisper in turn.

“What is this place?” you murmurs; this time, the question is asked in a much different tone.

Glancing up, you find Jimin already looking at you. “Lilac,” he repeats – though this, too, he says in a new way. “At least,” he frowns, “that’s what I call it. Not a very creative name, I know but there’s no word in our language. Or, if there is – it’s long been lost to our kind. I found Lilac by accident,” Jimin confesses, looking up at the suns. The wind whips his hair, stirring it into a frenzy. “We’ll be safe here, at least for a little while.”

Slowly, you stand, marveling when the bones in your body remain silent. The past few weeks, you have been barely able to sleep. Dark circles exist under your eyes, your joints creak hazily and each motion produces aches – but no longer.

“Jimin,” you start to say – then stop, considering the enormity of what you wish to ask. There are a billion questions to think of, but none presents itself as most important. “How did you get over there?”

Jimin pauses, before reappearing before you. “Magic,” he answers. Upon seeing your expression, he laughs and adds, “Perhaps you should sit down, while I explain.”

The suggestion seems arbitrary, since you are already halfway to lowering yourself to the ground. This is an odd fact about humans: significant news is often best-received from a seated position. The strange, mauve grass parts when you sit and from here, touching the ground, you look upwards at Jimin.

He settles before you as well, dark hair blown haphazardly over his features. It is odd, the wind of this planet. It doesn’t seem to come from any one direction, or even move in a discernable pattern. It plays with Jimin’s hair as one would with a friend – it touches yours curiously, as though in exploration. Frowning, you shove strands behind your ears in response.

Jimin seems more at ease – no, scratch that, he seems just more and perhaps this is the first time you believe what he says. Jimin is a Walker. He can travel between worlds and if that is true – perhaps what he said about you is true, as well.

Twining a blade of grass with his finger, Jimin frowns while considering where to begin. “I suppose it makes the most sense, starting with the concept of Blocks.”

“Blocks?” You find yourself unfamiliar with the word and, being a person unaccustomed to ignorance, you frown. It is not so much the word in itself, but rather the way Jimin says it – shaped by his lips, as an indication of magic.

He nods, still twirling the blade in his hand. “Magic exists, Y/N.” Jimin pauses, allowing this to sink in.

Rather than be shocked, as he clearly expected, you simply raise both your eyebrows. “That seems a bit obvious,” you say, “given we’re currently sitting on purple grass on another planet, right now.”

Jimin’s face twitches, as though wanting to laugh before he thinks better. “Okay, but it’s more than just traveling between worlds, Y/N. Magic,” he states, lifting a hand – the blade of grass spins, flying overhead in response, “exists everywhere. Magic is an infinite supply of energy that anyone can use, given they have the right capabilities.”

Mouth ajar, you follow the purple grass towards the sky. “And you have the right capabilities?” you manage to ask, although clearly, he does.

Jimin nods, focused on the spinning object above. “So do you, I imagine.”

With a frown, you tear your gaze away from the blade. Squinting at the planet, you try – and fail – to move a leaf with your mind. Perhaps this is because you have no idea what you’re doing. It is as though someone has handed you a blank sheet of paper and told you to draw, but gave no utensil. Or, perhaps they handed over the pencil as well – but still, you have no idea whether to use the tip or the eraser.

Scrunching your eyes, you stare intently at a puce-colored flower.

Jimin chuckles, letting the grass drop to the ground. “It takes practice,” he assures, dusting his hands off on his pants. “For you, right now, there’s a tsunami of information pouring in through a door. It’s too much and you don’t have the time to digest it – which leads to the worst kind of sensory overload. With time, you’ll be able to separate out the strands.”

“Alright,” you sigh, giving up on the pretense that you can do magic for now. “It’s like you’re trying to confuse me. What the fuck are the strands?”

Jimin huffs, a tiny movement of his lips. “Right – strands of magic. Strands of energy, binding together the universe. Everything of consequence is made up of particles – some people can just see them better, that’s all. Some people,” he adds, a slight gleam to his eyes, “can use them.”

A strange kind of excitement unfurls in your stomach. “So,” you respond, returning to looking at the flower, “this is what you do, when you travel between worlds?”

“What we do,” Jimin corrects, arching a brow. “But yes, that’s it. We bend the strands, we move them together into a more efficient fashion.”

“Right.” Pursing your lips, you are sure your face remains dubious. “And what you did earlier, with the grass – that was a different kind of magic, than traveling?”

“Walking,” Jimin corrects, lowering both hands to the dirt. “Although, I guess we sometimes do call it traveling. And yes, in a way. But back to the concept of Blocks,” he says, even though he didn’t explain this the first time. “A Block is a magical entity, of sorts. They are magical entities which exist to cancel out other magic.”

“Cancel out... magic?”

Jimin nods, a knowing look on his face.

In response to this, you scowl, since you have always felt arrogance to be an unbearable character trait. On Jimin, though, it does not seem unattractive, which is an insufferable contradiction.

“What do you mean by, ‘cancel out’?” you prod. “How can one magic diminish another?”

Jimin looks up at the sky. “How does anything work, in any world?” he murmurs, though the question doesn’t seem directed at you. Leaning back on his hands, he sighs. “A Block can be anything – an object, a person, a building. The Earth is a Block,” he offers, looking your way.

You still. In the distance, beyond, wine-colored mountains blend into the sky. It paints a rather lovely portrait.

“The Earth, as a planet, is a giant Block for magic. It’s why we can’t do these kinds of things there,” he explains as, with a wave of his hand, Jimin sets the grass spinning. “Only certain magics work, certain patterns of of energy exist on the Earth. It’s party why the Normals won against us in the war, so many years ago.”

Staring at him dizzily, you wonder when you moved so easily from they to us. For so long, you listened to history lessons about how you won the war. A war where you, the Normals, drove out the dangerous Walkers and regained the planet Earth as your own. Now, you realize you are a part of them. You are the beings so easily stamped out and suddenly, your origin story doesn’t sound so appealing.

Dragging a hand through your hair, you turn to look at the suns.

Odd, how similar this place is to Earth. Except for the purple, of course – but apart from that, it could be a twin. One would think that, given an infinite combination of particles in the universe, molecules would not deign to order themselves the same way. With a noise almost like a chuckle, the breeze stirs in your hair.

Clearing his throat, Jimin returns your attention to him. “Only some magic is possible on Earth,” he affirms. “Walkers travel to other worlds. Seers can do this, and bring items back with them. But on some worlds,” he shrugs, throwing out both arms. Leaves and grass swirl up, between fingers. “We can do more.”

Sunlight pierces the leaves, suspended in midair before you. Staring, you wonder at the change in the air – and in Jimin, seated before you. When you met him on Earth, he was a dim, fading thing. Here, there is something wild and alive in his gaze. Jimin takes a deep breath, exhaling this slow through his nostrils.

“Not every world is like Lilac,” Jimin cautions, keeping both eyes closed. “There are bad places in the universe, Y/N; evil places. They work harder to pull others in, which is why you keep accidentally going to them in your dreams. Worlds like Lilac, these are harder to find.”

Nodding, you lift both hands from the grass – and realize, with shock, the blades cling to your skin. A beacon of energy, Jimin said about you in his attic. 

With a sigh, Jimin reaches out, swiping these into the dirt. “I should’ve realized,” he murmurs, brushing the curve of your wrist. More grass tumbles to the ground, but you are not looking at this – you are looking at him. “Even in a mostly dead world, a Seer is dangerous.”

You shiver, this time not from him. You shiver from the idea that just by being here, you are calling things to you – the notion is a frightening one, to say the least, so you push it aside. A mostly dead world, Jimin said. You don’t want to consider what this mostly part means. 

Leaning back on your palms, you stare up at the sky. Above are a million, tiny pricks of light. Eerily similar to home and yet, not. You stare, keeping your eyes open for as long as you can and there – in the single, fleeting moment before everything blurs – you think there is a pulse to the rhythm, a stark weaving of energy.

“What is a Seer?” you whisper, when you blink. The energy disappears, leaving you wanting. “I know what you said earlier,” you hasten, noting the change in Jimin’s expression. “I’m a gateway of sorts, between worlds – but what does that mean, really?”

Jimin sighs. “It means not only can you rearrange your own energy – you can rearrange someone else’s. And that is rare.”

“I guess,” you mutter, with a shrug. Truthfully, this does not seem so special. “I don’t see how that’s important, though. Why is it so valuable – why would things seek me out, when I travel?”

Jimin stares at you in amazement. “Are you serious – okay,” he exhales, scooting closer. Grabbing one of your hands, he holds it high overhead. “Let’s call this the Earth.”

Glancing at your hand, you shrug. “Okay.”

“This,” Jimin grabs your other hand, bringing it far away from the first, “is the neighboring planet, Siphon.”

“Siphon?”

“It was the first word I thought of. Anyways, Siphon,” Jimin continues, wriggling the one hand above you, “wants to attack Earth. But – oh, no! What a large waste of perfectly good resources. What a large sum of time, money and spaceships just to get from one side of the galaxy to the other! Unless,” he counters, raising a brow. “What if we simply kidnap a Seer and use them to – zap! – move an entire army from one world to the next.”

Your blood chills, wincing at the sound it makes when Jimin smushes your hands together. “I,” you exhale, then swallow. “Is that possible?”

Jimin nods, releasing your hands and letting them fall to your sides. “It’s happened before,” he states. “It’s happened often enough that Seers were deemed a threat to humanity, long ago. Many were killed during the War,” Jimin admits, a certain sadness entering his gaze. “Which is why you’re so rare, why I didn’t even know what you were. I’ve never met another Seer.”

Your mind crowds, full of noisy implications you would rather not consider. Your powers must have come from somewhere, they had to. From the way Jimin speaks, it seems as though his are hereditary – the Walkers are a people, the Normals are a people. But, if so, what are you? Neither of your parents exhibited signs of being a Seer or, at least, none you can recall. You are all alone and while yes, that is not exactly a new fact, somehow it seems much more permanent.

Jimin tilts his head. “Seers are dangerous,” he explains. “Especially you, since you’re old for a newbie and don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”

“Hey!” you blurt out, curling your legs into your chest. “Watch who you’re calling old,” you huff. “You can’t be much younger than I am. If you even are.”

“Sorry,” Jimin shrugs, though he doesn’t look it. “That’s not what I meant. What I meant was that Walkers learn to control their powers at a young age. The fact that you never did – well,” Jimin hesitates. “It’s no wonder you’re attracting big prey. Something has kept your powers at bay for a long time – it’s the only explanation, as to why you haven’t realized what you are. Now that your powers are free, though…” Jimin shrugs. “Everything is releasing all at once.”

“A tsunami through a door,” you repeat, borrowing Jimin’s phrase from earlier.

Jimin nods, dark hair pushed back by the wind. “Exactly.”

You are quiet for a few minutes, letting this all sink in. The most logical explanation is a Block – a Block, which exists somewhere in your life and hinders your magical abilities. This is too much to think about now, though, especially when you are here, and not back on Earth.

“Are we the only magical beings that exist?” you query, then frown. “Also, how are there even different magical beings, if all energy is the same? You keep on saying you’re a Walker and yet,” you wave a hand at the grass, “you’re clearly more.”

Jimin hums, lowering himself to lie flat on the world. Arranging himself into a more comfortable position, he stares at the sky. “Ah, that’s hard.” Jimin frowns, lacing his hands over his stomach. “I think it can be best explained, in terms of personality. Let’s pretend, for a moment, I’m very skilled in verbal communication.”

“Ha,” you snort.

Delicately, Jimin arches a brow. “I said pretend. Anyways, pretend I’m a great verbal communicator – this doesn’t mean I can’t communicate through a written medium. It just means I’m most skilled when I speak out loud.” Lifting his head from the grass, Jimin stares at you. “I’m good at traveling places. For some reason, on Earth, everything else becomes muted and only my strongest skill remains. It’s an odd sort of Block.”

“Well,” you exhale, settling down in the grass to match his position. “Why don’t you just stay in other worlds, then? If you can do magic elsewhere, why not just stay here?”

Jimin’s expression takes on a cast of pure obviousness. “Because those other worlds aren’t home.”

Nodding, you lower yourself flat, like he is. To some, this might seem like a silly answer but to you, it makes sense.

“Can people levitate things on Earth?” you ask, turning your head on the grass. “If that’s their ‘specialty,’ as you put it?”

Jimin turns his head as well, meeting your gaze. “In theory, I suppose. I haven’t met any.”

There’s a strange cast to his words, darker than previous and you frown. “Jimin, why are you –”

When he sits up, the movement is abrupt, breaking the moment. “I don’t want to talk about my past,” Jimin mutters. “I don’t want to talk about where I live, or why, or how I came to be there.”

There is something hard, finite to his voice. He stares at the mountains and you try not to notice the raw pain to his gaze. The moment seems oddly private, as though you are not meant to see it. His tone does not invite further conversation and, unwilling to push him on this, you don’t try.

“Okay,” you shrug, returning your gaze to the suns.

Jimin settles onto the grass, kicking one ankle over the other. He stares at the stars for so long, you think he might have forgotten you. “Before,” he sighs, sliding back into conversation. “When you were attempting to assault me, and I disappeared – that is magic I can do back on Earth.”

“Oh, sure,” you respond, turning to face him with a scowl.

He smiles, some of his former ease returning. “That’s just me, traveling – or, Walking. It’s my natural specialty and I can do it quite easily.”

“So, let me get this straight.” Frowning, you stare up at the sky. “You get to zip around the universe, you basically have the power of teleportation – and here I am, a giant doorway.”

“Along with a lighthouse, yes.”

Glaring at nothing, you wave a hand overhead. “Do you see how unfair that is?”

A puff of laughter passes Jimin’s lips. “Yeah. Look – you could have other strengths, as well. Like I said, I’ve never actually met a Seer before. You’re the first. Apparently, this means you can travel, too,” Jimin shrugs. “At least, you did earlier, when I brought you to Lilac.”

When he says this, a horrifying image begins to form in your thoughts. “Wait,” you respond, turning your head on the grass. “Are you saying… that before, when we came here... you didn’t know if I could?”

Jimin’s cheeks color. “It, uh, seemed worth the risk.”

For the second time on the planet, you launch yourself forward and begin pummeling him with your fists. Jimin laughs, curling in on himself – only to disappear, reappearing in a bush several feet over.

“Stop doing that,” you huff, pushing yourself onto your elbows.

Jimin is still laughing, clutching his shirt. “I’m sorry,” he protests, tumbling free of the leaves to wipe mirth from his eyes. “I just haven’t ever experienced my powers with someone else before. Turns out, it’s kind of fun.”

Although you’re still pissed at him, your curiosity gets the better of you. “What do you mean by that?” you ask, lowering yourself on the grass.

“Well,” Jimin muses, scooting closer to flop down on his front. “Being a Walker is kind of alienating. The whole ‘travel by yourself’ thing gets old, fast. I’ve never come to Lilac with anyone else before.”

This thought strikes you as incredibly lonely. “No one? Ever?” 

Scanning the horizon of lavender lakes and trees, you wonder if the beauty would hold true, were you to only ever see it by yourself. For some reason, the implication is unsettling.

“No one,” he answers.

“What about another Walker?” you query, turning your head.

“Time is a funny thing,” Jimin says and, when you look, he stares straight overhead. “It moves differently in different parts of the universe. The one time I tried visiting a place with another Walker – they arrived five years in the past, I got there seventy-four in the future.”

Eyes widening, you release the breath you were holding. “How?”

“How,” Jimin sighs, loosening a groan and throwing a hand over his face. “I don’t know,” he mumbles, in between body parts. “Lord – Y/N. Do I seem as though the universe has let me in on all of its personal secrets?”

“Kind of, yeah. You have that ‘omniscient, egotistical asshole’ vibe.”

The corner of Jimin’s mouth lifts. “Ha. Well,” he sighs, from underneath his arm. “I don’t know how it works. Think of it like earlier – when I took your two hands and smushed them together. Time is kind of like that, too.”

“Confusing, and full of crappy metaphors?”

“Sure, but also non-linear,” Jimin points out, finally removing his arm from his face. “Time is amorphous, has no straight lines and when a Walker travels, it is hard to control both space and time in one jump. Except on your planet of birth,” Jimin corrects, thinking it through. “You body reaches for one timeline there, for some reason.”

“Huh.” You can think of no further response – everything about today, or tonight is just one, giant question mark. The rest is just details, until the newness subsides.

“You know, you’re handling this much better than most people would.”

“Am I?” you muse.

Turning, you marvel at the sight of Jimin, bathed in violet twilight.

He nods, profile dipping in and out of shadow. “Most Walkers learn about their abilities at a young age, grow up knowing what they are – even if they have to keep it a secret from society. Anyways, most Walkers reject the concept of magic, the first time that they hear it. You didn’t.”

“Oh. That’s good to know, I guess.”

“Of course, most Walkers are around five or six years old when they learn.”

Without hesitation, you punch Jimin in the arm.

“Hey!” he yelps, though he’s laughing.

“There’s more where that came from,” you inform, folding both hands over your stomach. His laughter quiets and, as the silence stretches between you, uncertainty drifts in and out of your thoughts. “Jimin?”

“Yeah?” he mumbles, both eyes shutting. “Are you going to hit me again?”

“Not if you don’t deserve it,” you huff – but there’s a catch to your voice.

Hearing this, Jimin opens his eyes.

Before you can move, he is before you. In the blink of an eye, Jimin travels closer and you suck in a breath, trying – and failing – to adjust to the nearness of him. This proves to be impossible.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asks, a subtle tilt to his head.

He’s so near, you almost lose focus. “What now?” you manage to ask, pushing the words into being. Above you, the world is spinning – not literally, although you can’t say that with certainty. “Now that I know what I am – what now?”

Jimin is quiet for a long moment. “I won’t lie to you,” he responds at last, oddly hesitant. “The Earth is not kind, to people like us.”

“Yeah?” you breathe, curling a hand in the grass. There still exist a few inches between you, a fact which seems significant, given how frequently you consider closing that space.

“Yeah,” Jimin agrees, his hand moving nearer. “I mean, you saw where I live. Technically, Walkers don’t even exist back in our world. Neither do you,” he reminds.

“Right.” It is a cold reminder, one which prompts your next question. “The dreams, though,” you whisper, still looking at him. “The whole reason I sought you out was because of the dreams. I keep accidentally traveling in my sleep,” you explain, fingers tightening on mauve. “And until I know how to stop it – aren’t I in danger of bringing something back?”

Jimin doesn’t move. “Yes,” he breathes, barely audible.

“Okay.” With a half-laugh, you tear your gaze quickly away. “At least you’re honest.”

Unprompted, his hand finds yours in the damp, purple grass. “I’ll teach you,” Jimin implores, oddly earnest. You look at him. The weight of his gaze feels alien – there exists a spark within it, one you have never experienced before.

There are only a few people you’ve encountered who contain such fire. Your ex-boyfriend was one of them, before time and secrets dampened that flame. Your mother was another, although she died too soon for you to fully comprehend. This, feels like more than both.

His touch burns. “Sorry,” Jimin winces, pulling back – but you stop him. “I know my body runs hotter than normal. I mean it,” he implores, “when I say that I’ll help you. Traveling in your dreams is fairly normal for a new Walker. I can help you with that.”

“It’s normal?” you respond, lifting a brow. “It’s normal, to call giant monsters to me in my sleep?”

“Okay, maybe that’s unique.” Jimin’s lips quirk. “But still, it’s just sleep-Walking. You’re astral-projecting into other worlds, which is much less intense.”

“Uh,” you blink, understanding about seventy percent of what he just said. “Come again?”

“Oh, right.” Jimin rubs at his forehead – he still hasn’t let go of your hand with the other. “When you sleep, your body is unresponsive but your mind is awake. All your defenses are lowered and when you’re new, oftentimes you travel. But,” he hastens, seeing your expression, “because your body is asleep – only your mind disappears. That’s what I meant, when I Walked in your dreams earlier and told you I was real, but you were not.”

Despite yourself, you shudder. “That somehow sounds worse.”

Jimin nods, thumb tracing over your wrist. “Don’t worry, your soul is made of tougher stuff than you think. It is not as easily – well, physically – harmed. Still, it’s probably best if you stop sleep-Walking altogether.”

“Oh, you think?” Though the response is sarcastic, you don’t move away. “Thanks,” you whisper, closing your eyes – it has not escaped your notice that Jimin does not have to do any this. You are still, by all accounts, a stranger, despite the trauma you share.

“Anytime,” he responds.

When Jimin withdraws his hand, it feels as though the world has, once again, rearranged. Opening your eyes, you push yourself into a seated position. “What’s wrong?” you ask, when he stands.

Stretching both arms, Jimin arches a brow. “We should be getting back,” he explains, holding out a hand to help you up. “Like I said, timing in other places is strange. How long do you think we’ve been here?” he asks, genuinely curious.

You pause, opening your mouth but find yourself stumped. The light around you hasn’t changed. The shadows on the ground are no longer, no less – nothing has moved in the sky, no constellations have shifted from view. 

“A few hours?”

Jimin shrugs. “I have no idea. Your guess is as good as mine,” he states – cheerfully, as though he didn’t just admit you could be twenty years in the future. “I suppose we’ll find out, once we get back to Earth.”

This is a horrifying statement, though some of your worry is alleviated when Jimin slips his hand into yours.

Only for a moment though, because then you remember the chaotic world you exited. Jimin’s attic, the booming voice at the door, the forced entrance of someone and their climb up the stairs. You still haven’t asked Jimin who that was but, based on his reaction to them, you assume no one good.

Turning around, the wind blows hair over your eyes. “Where are we going?” you ask, tightening your grip.

If Jimin notices the change, he doesn’t comment. “Somewhere you deem safe. An apartment? Safehouse? Someplace no one will see us when we enter. Just think about it,” he exhales, meeting your gaze. “Think of it, and I’ll get us there.”

“My apartment,” you respond, automatic. “No one will be there, and whoever was at your apartment won’t know that we’re there.”

Jimin’s expression flickers, unreadable for a moment. “I’ve never been to the Peak before. Well,” he sighs, licking his lips. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

You nod, closing your eyes as thoughts of home fill your mind. “Okay,” you exhale, trying not to feel foolish. Squeezing them shut, you visualize the hallway outside your door; the foyer inside, with a blue plastic vase of flowers.

Jimin exhales.

Everything turns dark, and you gasp – or, try to but find you no longer have a body to breathe. No blood pounds through your veins, no bones shiver in your skin, there is nothing but black, dark emptiness and when you try and scream, zap –

You stumble into the hall, nearly smacking your head on the wall.

Jimin follows, catching your waist and spinning you suddenly backwards. His entire body braces, taking the brunt of your fall. Gasping, you feel suddenly whole again – until you retch, leaning over to grasp both knees with your hands. Jimin seems worse off than you are; he heaves in slow, even motions while ducking his head to his chest.

After a few moments of blood pounding through veins, you manage to push yourself upwards. Luckily, the hallway is empty – it seems that you overshot the landing, you realize, squinting at the numbers on doors. Your apartment is down the hall, around two corners and with a shudder, you wonder what would have happened if you’d appeared in someone else’s apartment. That would have been difficult to explain.

No, there would have been no explanation. You would have been reported and – with a shiver, you cut off that next thought. What would have happened next, you don’t want to think about.

Jimin straightens beside you, rubbing his temples. “God,” he groans. “It’s harder, navigating two people at once. It’s like – you’re carrying me,” he frowns, pulling the pieces together. “You’re the Seer, so you’re taking me with you. But you don’t know how to drive, so I keep having to reach into the driver’s seat and yank the wheel.”

Rolling your eyes, you push past. “Thanks,” you huff and Jimin follows, already starting to smile. “It’s not my fault I don’t know how to travel. Like you said – something has been keeping my abilities at bay.”

“Right,” Jimin nods. Turning the corner, a distant pounding reaches your ears. Probably someone else’s music, or a broadcast show. “That’s the strange part, Y/N. I’ve been meaning to tell you, you should be careful.”

“Careful?” you respond, arching a brow and rolling up your shirtsleeve. The barcode on your wrist serves as a key to your door. Walking around the corner, the pounding grows even louder. “And why is that?”

Jimin does not respond.

Coming to a stop, you turn and see him focused on something over your shoulder. All blood has drained from his expression and Jimin remains frozen for only a moment, before he launches himself forward.

“Jimin!” you gasp, thrown sideways for him to barrel angrily past.

Now, the noise from the hallway is clear. Someone stands at your door, violently knocking – you see this for only a moment, before Jimin is there. He grabs the man by the shoulder, yanking him sideways to punch him square in the jaw.

Oh, fuck. 

With each passing second, your stomach sinks because now, you recognize who it is. You recognize their black, leather jacket; you recognize the clean cut of their clothing. You recognize his smooth white of his uniform underneath and the way his hair curls, overgrown, at the base of his neck.

He stumbles back, not having expected the punch – but re-gathers himself quickly, ducking to avoid the next blow. The man’s movement is quick, efficient countering Jimin’s oncoming punches, but this is to be expected. The man is captain of the police force and as such, is able to dismantle grown men without thinking twice.

What is odd about this fight is, Jimin seems to possess this skill as well.

He ducks the other man’s blow, weaving easily to deliver a second punch to the groin. The second man groans, doubled over and now Jimin draws back his fist – and you dart in, grabbing him with both hands and dragging him backwards.

“Jimin!” you gasp, using all of your weight to get him to stop. “What are you doing?”

Looking down in surprise, Jimin seems to notice you for the first time. “Y/N,” he growls, gaze tightening. “Get out of the way – you’re in danger!”

“Danger?” you hiss, still staring at Jimin. “What are you even talking about?”

By now, the second man has managed to push himself upwards. Standing in the middle of your hall, he regards the two of you warily. It has not escaped your notice, the way the man’s gaze lingers on your hand, touching Jimin. Instantly, you flush and drop both arms to your side.

Jimin’s jaw tightens, looking at you. “He’s a Block, Y/N,” he grunts, flinging out a hand. The point of his finger is accusatory. “Can’t you feel it? The subtle pull at your powers, your conscience, your being? He’s a fucking Block and he’s here at your door – doesn’t that strike you as strange?”

You want to move. Want to, but can’t; too consumed by the words placed into being. Now that Jimin says it, yes, you can feel it. The slow, subtle drain to your energy ever since turning the corner. 

Gaze darting to the other man – whose expression has crumpled into something like fear – you find yourself stuck to the floor. The man now has eyes only for you, completely ignoring Jimin while taking a step forward.

“Fuck,” he whispers, horrified, pushing both hands through his hair. “Y/N... what have you done?”

Jimin freezes, and you know that he hears it. The familiarity, the implicit trust in his tone. “Y/N,” Jimin mutters, not looking away. “What is going on?”

“Jimin,” you whisper, looking from him to the other. “This is my ex-boyfriend. Jungkook.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Jungkook states drily, sticking out a hand.

[ Walkers Master List ]

© kpopfanfictrash, 2018. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[paperclipninja]

Younger post-ep ramble 6x01

The waiting, the anticipation, the trying not to pass out every time the Younger team posted some ridiculously next-level pic or gif or clip...it was all leading to this, the season 6 premiere! The sheer joy and elation I feel from seeing new footage and new moments for these characters takes me by surprise every single time. I am perpetually thirsty for this show and there is not much I delight in more than drinking it all in as it unfolds. “Big Day” most certainly did not disappoint, it was a fast paced sensory overload and didn’t hold back in setting a whole lot in motion straight out of the gate.

What is interesting to me is that so much of this first ep had been included in the official trailer and other promos, so in a way I felt like I’d seen lots of it but also it was all new because I didn’t have the full context of any of the bits. Take the opening scene, for example - we had seen part of it in the First Look table read, part in the trailer, part in other promos, yet there I was trying not to catch on fire in those first two minutes because it was h.o.t. I am a sucker for a coming-up-behind-the-person-while-they-get-ready-in-the-mirror scenario and this season opener raised it a notch by putting Charles in a pair of boxer briefs, you know, to emphasise the morning situation (and the abs situation lbh) while giving us the dual angle of the mirror and the foreground just to make sure we could see all that was happening (noted and appreciated). My brain is still not computing Liza and Charles as an actual out-in-the-open couple so the whole ‘I know why your neck is sore’, ‘as long as you’re in [the bed] when she gets home’ (this talking in the third person thing they’ve had going on since that fountain scene in the finale = YES), chatting about the day ahead, intermittent kisses, arms wrapped around each other...I’m sorry, what were we talking about? Oh yes, very good scene, 5/5 would recommend.

I am thrilled at the way Liza just dropped the ‘love you’ so naturally, it was exactly the right way for that to happen considering how long these characters have been doing their dance. Dare I say that I loved it even more when Liza told Kelsey she loves her in the office and Kelsey said ‘aw, you didn’t even run away’. Lol. Such a great tie in and I am really feeling the Kelsey/Liza dynamic in this ep right from the get-go. From the moment they’re walking up to the office together, the support they’re showing for one another is so evident and adding Lauren into the work mix is going to be fab. Lauren may have only been in the ep for about a minute but as always she makes such an impression, me and my English degree feel seen. I cannot WAIT to see her relationship with Diana grow and also, did I miss Zommy being a thing? Is this Zaddy but flipped? 

As always Liza has her relentless belief in Kelsey, but it is so nice to see Kelsey stepping up to reassure Liza that they will make sure the company is stronger than ever and showing that she respects Liza’s relationship and is also supporting her in her new role. I really hope this continues throughout the season and I appreciate that the writers may be responding to the somewhat lopsided friendship we were seeing last season. I enjoyed both conversations about clearing desks way more than I probably should have and I am as happy as Liza that she finally has an office with an actual door that closes (p.s. here’s hoping these very specific references are alluding to future door shutting and clearing desks because I am trash and I know you’re all thinking it).  

Of course we couldn’t have Liza getting too settled before Quinn appeared to drop the bomb that Page Six are running the blind item with her age printed as 28 and that the entire Charles stepping down so there would be no more lies/celebrating Liza rally was only ever really going to be on Quinn’s terms. I was SO hoping that Quinn and Liza could become friends. I saw such potential in the finale, however I also see that this stays consistent with the ruthless business woman we were presented with, who is only in it for herself. The way Quinn says ‘let’s not make this a pity party about ageism’ with such contempt is a stark contrast to the ‘ageism is wrong’ mantra from the last time we saw the character and I actually gasped. Laura Benanti is going to play this evil turn so well that I am now officially excited to see Quinn’s true colours, I love a deliciously dodgy character (shout out to C.Sussman the real MVP). I do wonder if the whole glass cliff phenomenon we learn about during this ep is actually going to end up being Quinn’s M.O, especially after the finance meeting when she told Kelsey to enjoy making cuts before going to get on a plane *insert shrug emoji*. The justification for keeping the age thing on the DL was legit, Kelsey’s ewww at the idea of banging the boss was so in character and props to Liza being all ‘excuse you and your ewww’, but just in case we needed convincing that people would assume the 28 year old in the story was Kelsey, enter Diana. 

It had all started so well, the day that is. I really liked how Diana was supporting Kelsey as the boss when she first arrived at work and Kelsey saying she wanted to talk to Diana about hiring Lauren, a glimpse at the way these women are going to work together. But let’s put all that on hold while we recount the shattering of my heart into a million pieces. First of all, Diana’s immediate assumption that Kelsey ‘bottomed her way to the very top’ (that was brutal and I think all our jaws were with Quinn’s in hitting the floor in that moment), followed of course by Liza running after her, Diana not wanting to hear any excuses for Kelsey and the great office reveal as Liza tells a room full of colleagues, who may or may not have all started that day because who are all these people and what do they do, that she is the 28 year old associate having an affair with the publisher. It was momentarily comical until Liza turned to see Diana’s expression. My heart hurts even thinking about the scene that follows as Diana reassures Liza that it’s a story as old as time, the assistant sleeping with the boss, but as Liza continues to try and explain you can actually see Diana shutting down. Miriam Shor deserves every freaking award for the way she conveyed so much just with her eyes. 

Diana meeting with Redmond (what a treat having him in the premiere too!) absolutely epitomized how much value this show can get out of a short scene that’s well written and wonderfully acted. The entire exchange, from Redmond wanting the goss on the regime change (I love that he wasn’t even available but couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get some dirt and asking whether Kelsey’s feet touch the floor in Charles’ chair, all the LOLs), to Diana asking him to put the word out she’s looking for a new job (one of my fave lines of the ep, ‘oh Redmond, if I wanted it kept quiet I would’ve never come to you’) was an utter joy to watch. Despite the brevity, this scene captured the real feel of Younger for me, the setting, the conversation, something about it just oozed that essence that has been running through the entire series, almost like a familiarity that re-orientated me amidst all the newness I was trying to get my head around.

There was something so domestic, in the best possible way, about Enzo opening the door to Kelsey and Liza and I adore that they went to Diana’s apartment in the hope of finding her. Kelsey being warned by Zane not to lose Diana was a really surprising but lovely moment, I enjoyed their scene a lot; Kelsey admitting how hard the job is, Zane being open about trying to figure out his next move (we now know he’s not at Chicky...lol the comment about his dicky), I see the set up and it’ll be interesting to see how their relationship will play out this season. So for now Zane is being a friend to Kelsey and it was thanks to this that she and Liza were able to find Diana at Marie’s Crisis and we were blessed with the most surreal Younger experience to date, a rendition of 9 to 5 which we’d already seen prior to the ep but I will happily watch as many times as is offered. And while the Dolly tribute was an absolute treat, the part of this scene that lingered with me was prior to that, when Kelsey and Liza first find Diana and Kelsey tells her how much she respects and values her (my Kelsey love in this moment is possibly the realest it’s ever been). 

As Diana explains that the problem is she’s not a millennial, my fragile heart actually broke. I understand on the one hand that Liza revealing her age in this moment may have been too much on top of the Charles news, but the other part of me wanted and needed her to take Diana, sit her down and tell her the whole damn truth. I said it at the end of last season but at this point, Diana not knowing about Liza’s age feels cruel. I understand Liza not being able to declare her real age publicly but there’s absolutely no reason she couldn’t tell Diana. I am hoping that she will find out in the very near future because I feel like Diana Trout and Liza Miller both openly in their 40′s will be next level and I need this friendship please and thank you.

You know another friendship between people in their 40′s I love? Bob and Charles. So imagine my delight when this scene started and we have Bob’s tiny mind being blown as he discovers that the woman Charles has been speaking to him about for the past 4 years is actually Liza, ‘the yodelling mom’. So we have Bob giving Charles some real talk and the mirroring of Charles starting over to Liza way back in season 1 is duly noted, but if you look up Swoon-worthy in any dictionary you will in fact see a clip of Charles saying ‘I can’t explain it, when I’m with her I feel...free’ playing on a continuous loop. This show and these lines I swear, RIP: Me.

As I’m sure you have gathered, this ramble is not following the chronology of the episode, so I want to jump back to a scene that I have been waiting for with a ridiculous amount of excitement and that is the Maggie and Charles meeting. I cannot explain why, but my desire to see these two meet has been strong and unrelenting and the fact Charles wandered into the lounge with his shirt open and completely unaware Maggie was there was everything I didn’t know I wanted. I appreciated Maggie’s appreciation of the male form but boy she sure didn’t waste any time getting her grill on. I do love how ferociously protective of Liza Maggie is and I get that there is clearly the need to set in motion a potentially ominous foreshadowing, but truthfully, this scene felt too rushed to me. Like, what happened after Maggie said ‘no-one ever does it on purpose’? Did they sit there awkwardly in silence? Did Charles ask Maggie if she wanted to do the quiz in the newspaper when he got to that part in his cover to cover read? I wanted more but I also felt a bit disappointed that there wasn’t a little more lightness in their first meeting. I have no doubt we will see more of them interacting, so hopefully we will still get Maggie and Charles bonding and becoming friends.

Maggie’s friendship with Josh is still one I really enjoy and the conversation about getting a paternity test was a nice way to bring Josh, Maggie and Liza together, bonus points to the use of the phone assistant to create that great ‘things to do in Wililamsburg’ moment. I have to say, Josh and Clare’s conversation when she was getting him up to speed and he felt the baby kick was lovely. His joy and disbelief was palpable. I found the whole scene to be really beautiful and I am one of the people who was always a fan of Clare, I really liked her and Josh together and I still feel like they have a really great, natural chemistry. I also felt like Josh being the dad was never really a question because I simply cannot see the point in bringing back pregnant Clare if he wasn’t, but Kelsey’s ‘holy shit’ reaction was great as was the conversation that followed between him and Liza. 

I really enjoyed their banter about Liza being a baby whisperer and her reassurance that ‘I got you’, I desperately want to see this relationship as a true friendship because the potential is there. But I gotta say, I’m a bit conflicted about Josh bringing up the fact that they broke up because Liza didn’t want him to give up having a kid and suggesting that they could be together if she wasn’t with someone else. I appreciate that it is realistic that this news would make both Josh and Liza reflect on their relationship given that having a baby was a significant reason for them breaking up, but bringing it up then and the implication that if Liza was single now they could be together just sort of ruined the moment for me. And it’s nothing to do with me wanting Liza with Charles, regardless of who she ends up with or without, for me this is how trying to keep love triangles alive in tv shows starts disrupting character and story growth and progression. 

I wanted to hear Josh talk about feeling the baby kick and for Liza to tell him some funny anecdote about when she was pregnant and was kicked in the bladder and peed herself in the supermarket. I realised I was feeling a bit resentful that I got pulled from this moment of enjoying the current place their relationship is at and back into this whole ‘look what we could have been’ because it feels tiresome and stagnant, but I’m sure there are many fans who feel differently. I liked the echo of Josh’s ‘timing’ by Liza. I felt like hers had a different meaning, that timing was bigger than just their singledom and parenthood aligning. I still overall really enjoyed their interaction, and I am looking forward to seeing how this relationship moves forward this season.

Liza bringing Diana coffee was the perfect way to show that things will be ok between them (until the age reveal that is...and yes Diana, I agree re: Liza’s outfit) and I’m quite sure that necklace Diana is wearing can be seen from space. I do like it when it feels like the balance has been restored and this was only made better by the phone call from Maggie to share the new bed arrival news. I feel like Maggie might be warming up to Charles after this.

Full disclaimer: this part will contain gushing. I tell you, this end scene of the ep was just too much. The expression on Charles’ face when he opened the door to Liza, ugh GUSH, such pure delight to see her and her joy in receiving the gift that she thought was nothing more than a joke, GUSH. Seeing these two so candid and giddy is everything. How far our Liza has come, from when we first met her and she was worried she’d forgotten how to have sex to now unabashedly telling the man she’s with that she thought she’d spend her lunch time thanking him in person (there are so many dirty puns I wanna use here but I shall refrain). I love their continued openness as she acknowledges missing Charles at work and he misses being there, but the way Charles’ reciprocation of Liza’s ‘love you’ from the start of the ep is delivered, I may have actually melted. As in, I am now liquid goo. Liza’s reaction as she asks ‘did you just tell me you love me?’ is divine and while we’ve heard the ‘I’ve pretty much had feelings for you for 16 years’ in numerous promos, Charles’ ‘long enough to know’ was what led to any remnants of my heart not shattered by the Diana ordeal to explode.

Zane’s interruption is only acceptable because Liza’s ‘hello’ is so damn hilarious and I love that they are two grown ass adults who were busted making out. And while I know that we are left with a lingering sense that Charles and Zane are up to something potentially secretive/shady as Liza leaves, I am HERE for Charles and Zane working together. I love the idea of Charles and Zane vs. Liza and Kelsey. I have no idea if that is where this is going, but I do know this smells of a set up for some serious DRAH-MAH and ngl, I am in 100%.

So all in all, what a cracking start to season 6. SO much going on, I think we’re in for a wild one. 

[choicessa]

On top of the world (Damien x MC)

Pairing: Damien x MC (Nia Park)

Words: ~ 3600

Summary: Stood up by her best friend, Nia decides to confront him but will she be ready for the confession Damien has for her?

Note: Written for the prompt Holidays/Vacation for @mariamulroney March Challenge. Thank you sooo much for hosting my dear! <3

Permatag: @the-everlasting-dream @drakewalkerwhipped​​ @tmarie82 @mariamulroney

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters here, just borrowing them. All rights go to Pixelberry Studios.

„You know what? I have an idea! Once a year we’re gonna choose one place to visit, from all around the world and go there!”

“What do you mean ‘go there’?”

“A trip! One week trip with sight-seeing, eating traditional food, having fun! What’d you say?”

“Once a year, huh? Deal!”

The idea was quite simple.

Pick a country, buy tickets, pack, go, have fun, return, repeat. And ohhh, Nia loved every single part of it. The hours spend on picking up the right place, long evenings before the laptop screen, searching through the pictures and trip advisors, trying to choose the perfect one to visit. And then another days, hesitating between airlines offers, sleepless nights on incognito mode, comparing the prices, until finally picking the perfect one and with satisfaction reserving the seats. Then this time of waiting, the excitement bursting in her chest, whenever she remembered that just in a few months, then weeks, then days, she will pack her suitcase, take a cab to the airport and sit on the board, ready for another trip, for another adventure. And then the night, right before the departure, all of her clothes scattered around, dozens of lists of things to take and her, kneeling on the floor in the middle of the chaos she created, trying to fit it all in one small suitcase and the relief and pride when she was finally finished, the lock closing with a click and her luggage waiting proudly by the door. Then the ride to the airport, a quick kiss to the cheek as a greeting, when she was meeting her best friend there, until finally, arm to arm, they would go to the check-ins, pass the security control and at last sit on the board, seatbelts fasted, her heart beating like crazy in her chest when she could hardly sit without moving, awaiting the moment of the take off. Ohhh how much she loved that feeling in her stomach, when the plane was starting, gaining the speed, her whole body pressed into the seat from the overload, a grin on her face, widening even more when she could see the grimace on her friend’s face, him not being a fan of the feeling she loved that much. And then the views, mountains, seas, clouds; her head spinning like crazy and a photo camera in her hand, taking dozens, hundreds of pictures, always looking for the perfect shot, much to amusement of him, just sitting with a glass of whiskey in his hand, with eyes closed praying so that the flight would end soon. But when plane touched the ground again, only then the real fun begun… The days spent on long walks and trips, seeing as much as they could, taking pictures, drinking coffee, eating local food, her snapping pictures of him without warning and him hating her for that. Long days filled with laughter, fun, happiness and always the pain of knowing that it will all end soon… Yet it was always worth it, the memories they were making, the photos she made her photobooks from, the stories they were telling their friends – it was all worth it in the end. And Nia always loved it all.

 But not this year.

 Not when he didn’t show up…

 She was standing by the window, her eyes scanning the plane standing outside, the one she was supposed to be on right now and her heart ached, seeing how the doors slowly closed and soon the machine started to move, driving away, to place on a proper runway, ready to take off. Her left hand was still clenching the tickets, so hard that her knuckles were white and her right hand was gripping the suitcase, the only thing still helping her to stand when she knew that without it, she would just fall and lay there, not having strength to get up.

 He didn’t come… Her best friend stood her up and didn’t come…

 She knew something was wrong from the first time she tried to call him and he didn’t pick up. The rational part of her brain tried to calm her down, telling her that maybe it was just a small delay, that maybe he was on his way right now and he simply couldn’t pick up the phone. So she waited, one minute, five, ten, half an hour. And she tried to call him again and again and again, leaving dozens of voice messages, with each one of them her voice being more serious and panicked. Maybe something happened to him? Maybe there was an accident and he was hurt? Minutes turned into hours, time passing so slowly, when she could just sit there, helplessly waiting for any sign from him, not knowing what to do… The check-ins were long closed, the last boarding already announced and she was ready to just run there, knowing that they both still had a few moments to go, that they still could make it, when she got a message. With trembling hands she opened it, just a few words in it, in that moment making her heart stop.

 “Sorry, I won’t make it… Something came up, I’ll explain later…”

 The whole world seemed to stop around her, the time suddenly freezing when she could just stare at the text message, re-reading it over and over again, some part of her not believing in what her eyes were seeing. No, it was impossible, he truly wouldn’t do it… But yet he did, no matter if her heart was telling her otherwise. He didn’t show up and she could just stand here, helplessly, watching the plane taking off in the far distance, the one that was supposed to take them to Spain, the one supposed to take them for another perfect holiday… Nia took a deep breath and looked at the screen of her phone, for a moment hesitating if she should answer, until finally she shoved it into her pocket. Part of her wanted to cry, cry over this one missed opportunity, knowing that her chance and her money were gone but also there was this other part, filled with anger, wanting nothing more but to punch Damien right in the middle of his face, shove the plane tickets down his throat and let him know how she felt about him leaving her like this. And what about all of his promises of trips together? What about all those nights they spent on planning? What about his idea? Did it really mean so little to him? That one message was supposed to make her feel better? Taking a deep breath she straightened her back and she slowly made her way towards the exit, knowing exactly where should she go right now...

 ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Damien Nazario moved his head back, leaning it against the back of his chair, a deep sigh of regret escaping his lips when he pressed the ‘sent’ button on his phone, a message he was working on for the last half an hour finally ready. With his brows furrowed he threw the phone on his desk, rubbing eyes with his hands.

  It sucked. It all sucked…

  Their plan was simple at first. Choose a country from all over the world, plan a trip and just go there. And oh, it worked so well for the first four years… First year they went to Rome, Nia’s unfulfilled dream of visiting The Eternal City finally coming to life. He could still remember her excitement, when with wide opened eyes and a map in her hand she practically dragged him all over the city, insisting on showing him everything. Second year they went to Greece, once again Nia’s idea, who spent too many time watching live transmission from Cordonia’s palace, swooning over prince Liam and his hard time on choosing the right candidate for his future wife. And since Cordonia was just a one trip from Greece… Let’s just say Damien couldn’t persuade her not to go… Third year they finally compromised and she agreed on a trip to Australia. Ohhh how much fun they had, riding through the deserts, seeing the Ayers Rock with their own eyes, spending a few magical days in Sydney, the one none of them will ever forget… Last year they chose Egypt and he could rant for hours about the pyramids, temples and sarcophagus they have seen, the only thing he could complain about was this terrible, unbearable heat… And then when the fifth year in row came and Damien realized that he couldn’t go on another trip because something, somewhere along the way… Changed. No. He has changed… He couldn’t put on finger on a certain moment, he couldn’t pick a situation that led to that, he wasn’t even sure how did it happen, but he knew one thing – he fell in love with her.

Yes, he, Damien Nazario, always claiming himself to be the most rational being on this planet, managed to fell in love with his best friend. How? He had no idea. When? He couldn’t tell it either. But he knew that whenever she smiled, he just wanted to smile as well, corners of his lips lifting up almost against his own will; when with a huge grin on her face she was looking around, admiring yet another relic, all he could think of were her beautiful eyes, shining with wonder and he wanted nothing more but to look right into them and drown in them… When she grabbed his hand, innocently, dragging him across the streets to show yet another temple worth seeing, he could feel his heart beating like crazy in his chest, his fingers wanting nothing more but to lace with hers, holding her hand in his and that one time, when strong wind was unraveling her hair, all he could think of was to reach out to her, brush away her curls, move his thumb across her cheeks, simply having to know how her soft skin would feel under his touch… Ohh and her lips… Her tempting full lips, always smiling, so often brushing his own cheek in an innocent friendly kiss, yet only leaving him wanting more, wanting to press his own lips to hers, needing to feel their touch, their taste, needing to know how her kisses would be…

He was trying to fight with it, he was trying to fight with the stupid urges of his naïve heart, trying to tell himself that it was just a crush, just loneliness talking, wanting something else, wanting something more… But when every time she came over, planning another trip, and he could think about her and her only, he knew that he was deep and madly in love with her. But for her he was nothing but a friend, a good companion who was willing to join her on her escapades so how could he go on another trip, when the way he was seeing her has changed? How could he go again, how could he innocently pose for the photos, sleep with her in one room, pretend that her every single touch didn’t mean anything when it would be all just an act? He couldn’t and he didn’t want to, so even if it meant breaking her heart – he just had to…

This decision and the message he had sent were one of the hardest things he had to do in his life… Oh, he could practically see her face, when she would notice the text message, whole range of emotions crossing her face… Smile, when she’ll be thinking it’s a stupid joke; then surprise, when she’ll understand that he meant it; then disappointment, regret, and finally anger… His brows furrowed even more, just at the thought of hurting her like that but he didn’t see any other option…

He looked at the whiskey standing on his desk and sighed again. How could he made the oldest and biggest known mistake and fell in love with her? How could it ever happen and what was he supposed to do with it right now? He wasn’t sure if he was sitting there for minutes, or for hours, just looking hollowly at his phone, still anxiously waiting for any response, any text message from her, yet the one that never came…

 And then he heard a knock on his door.

It took all of his willpower to stand up and as soon as he opened the door, he realized it was another mistake he did today…

“We need to talk, Nazario.” Not waiting for an invitation, Nia passed him, a suitcase still in her hand when she walked right into his apartment.

“What are you doing here? I thought…”

“You thought what? That I will go on board and just fly away without you?” She snorted, with her hand showing the move of a starting plane.

“Well, yeah?”

“Great! Just send the message a bit earlier next time so I could be on time for the boarding, okay?” She smiled sweetly at him, yet her eyes were shooting daggers.

Damien didn’t answer, he just kept on opening and then closing his mouth, knowing damn well that no matter what he would say, it wouldn’t be enough…

“What the hell were you thinking!?” She screamed. “What. The. Hell. Were. You. Thinking. When. You. Sent. Me. This. Text.!?” She emphasized every word with a hit to his arm, when she kept on punching him.

“I’m sorry, Nia, I just… I couldn’t go, okay?”

“Ohhh, I see… Whiskey is a better companion than I, I guess?” She raised her brow, looking at the glass standing on his desk.

“It’s not what you think…”

“Oh, isn’t it? Then enlighten me! Pleeeease!”

“Nia…”

“I was waiting for hours at the airport, like an idiot, waiting for you to show up! I was worried that maybe there was an accident, that maybe something bad had happened. And you what!? You were just waiting till the last minute to tell me you won’t come!? When you were sitting here, with the bottle of whiskey!?”

“Nia…”

“We had it all planned! If you didn’t want to come with me, then you could have just told me!”

“It’s not like that, I wanted to go…”

“So why the message? Why did you stood me up?!”

“Because I couldn’t go, okay!? I simply couldn’t!”

“Why? Because I am so repulsive to you? Because you couldn’t stand the sight of me anymore?”

“No, Nia, I just…”

“So what was it!? Don’t you think I deserve to know!?”

He opened his mouth again, before closing them, suddenly not knowing what to say to her. She was standing in front of him, furious, her beautiful face twisted in grimace and only then he realized just how much he did hurt her… He was naïve idiot who thought that running away from her, running away from the problem was the best idea when the truth was, he needed to face it, he needed to tell the truth and let her decide…

“I once promised to my best friend that I will go with her, every year, on a trip.” He said, coming a step closer towards her. “And I did keep my promise, for the last years. I went to every trip, I had fun, always hoping you had some as well, but… But this year… I realized that you’re not my best friend anymore…” He finally blurted out, seeing how her eyes widened in a  shock.

“What?” She wanted to scream, but all of the air and strength escaped her and it sounded more like a silent whisper, when she blinked several times, not believing what she was hearing.

“I can’t keep my promise any longer, I’m sorry…”

“Why? Because you started to hate me?” She snorted, regaining her composure.

“Hate you? No! Because I started to love you…” He smiled, his soft gaze meeting her surprised eyes.

If she was surprised before, now she looked like a statue, eyes wide opened, unblinking, mouth agape, when she could just wordlessly look at him, now taking a few shy steps towards her.

“Somewhere along the way… I… I can’t really explain that, Nia, I can’t really tell you why, but… You’ve became so much more than my best friend… And… That’s why I can’t keep my promise any longer…” He shook his head, sighing.

Did he just make a fool of himself? Did he just destroy everything they had, just with one stupid confession? Could he be such an idiot for admitting to his feelings? But when she was standing there, right in front of him, full of anger, so hurt because of him, he knew he couldn’t lie to her anymore, he couldn’t pretend his feelings hadn’t changed and most importantly he couldn’t hide it any longer… So he could just stand there, heart beating like crazy in his chest, looking at her still shocked face, patiently waiting…

“Why… Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, her throat suddenly dry.

“Because I’m a coward?” Damien snorted, shaking his head. “I was afraid that if I will say anything, it will destroy our friendship and that… That would be the biggest regret of my life…”

“You wouldn’t lose me, Damien…” Something softer appeared in her eyes when Nia took a step closer towards him. “You could’ve told me, you know?”

“There was no point…” He shrugged. “I thought it was just a crush and it will go away so we could go back to what we once had and…”

He stopped abruptly when Nia suddenly threw her head back and started to laugh.

“Now what’s so funny?” His eyes squinted dangerously. “My feelings are sooo amusing to you?”

“No, it’s just… You’re an idiot, Nazario.”

“I am what?”

“You’re an idiot!”

“Why? What have I done!?”

“You’re an idiot for never telling me how you feel before…”

“Why? What would it change?”

“Everything! We would go on this Spain trip like we planned, I wouldn’t storm here and scream at you and…”

“And what?”

“We wouldn’t have to wait for so long…”

His eyes widened at the realization, when after a long moment he finally understood the meaning behind her words. Wait, did it mean…

“Nia, you…” He gulped, trailing off when she stepped closer, stopping right in front of him.

“You could’ve just told me, you know?”

“I thought… I wasn’t sure if…” He finally took a deep breath and stopped his ramblings, his eyes meeting hers and Damien smiled, unable to contain his joy anymore, his sight moving across her face with adoration, the one she never has seen before in his eyes.

With no words he took another step closer towards her, their bodies almost touching and he reached out to her, his trembling hands grabbing hers, squeezing them gently.

“Sooo… what does it mean for us?” He asked silently, his thumb slowly stroking the top of her hand.

Nia shrugged, a smile once again playing on her lips.

“I don’t know yet…” She admitted. “I guess… Let’s just give it a shot and see where it’ll take us…”

“I can live with that.” Damien smiled, suddenly raising her hands and placing a kiss on each one of them, his gesture causing her to smile even wider. “Soooo… what now?”

“Now, Nazario… You’re going to kiss me…”

He didn’t answer. Instead he just smiled and grabbed her waist, pulling her closer, until their chests collided with each other. He could hear a sharp gasp, escaping her mouth at his sudden movement and Damien smirked to himself, his arms closing around her body in a tight embrace.

“If you say so…” He murmured, before leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss.

All of his dreams and thoughts about kissing her were nothing compared to reality… Nothing, compared to their mouths matching perfectly, meeting in equally perfect kisses, when his lips moved against hers and she could only give in, answering them with no less eagerness. Damien pulled her even closer, one hand still on her waist, the other moving higher, placing behind her neck, when he dipped his fingers into her hair, thinking that once he had known the taste of her kisses, he will never have enough… His lips were warmer and softer than Nia ever imagined and her hands reached out to him, grabbing his hair and pulling him closer, almost desperately, when she didn’t want to end this, not then, not ever. He wanted that moment to last forever, they both wanted it, her body locked in his arms, her hands around his neck and she, warm, soft, melting in his arms, responding to his kisses.

His eyes were still closed, even when she pulled back, trying to remember the feeling of her lips against his, trying to memorize that exact moment, finally being a reality, not just a fantasy of a tormented heart.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me earlier… We wouldn’t have to miss our trip…” Nia sighed.

And as soon as she said that, Damien’s eyes suddenly widened, a realization hitting him in that exact moment.

“Maybe we don’t have to!” He exclaimed.

“Mhmm?”

“We can always try re-booking it!” He smiled when he saw her lips lifting in a grin. “We can catch the first plane tomorrow morning!”

“Damien Nazario, sometimes you are a genius!” Nia stepped on her fingers, pressing a kiss to his lips. “So come on! We have to pack you and go!” She almost run to his room and Damien smiled, shaking his head when she started to look through his clothes.

“I love you, you crazy girl…” He murmured under his breath, so she couldn’t her him. “Wait a minute… When you said about me being a genius… Why only ‘sometimes’?” He asked, out loud.

Her laugh was the only answer he got and he shook his head once again, joining her, his gaze softening as soon as he looked at her.

 They could have been going on yet another trip but the real adventure was just beginning…

[amandajoyce118]

Agents of SHIELD S5E17 “The Honeymoon” Easter Eggs and References

A little late, but still here. FitzSimmons took Elena on their honeymoon, Mack and Piper played Doctor, and Talbot’s brain got messed with. A fun time all around. Spoilers, of course.

“No trouble with the straps this time.”

I’m sure anyone who has been watching the show since season one caught this reference. It’s a nod to the first time we saw Simmons jump from a plane in “FZZT.” She did it to save the team from the alien virus that infected her, but Fitz tried to jump out after her, unable to even get the parachute on. It’s fitting that the first time most of the audience saw romantic potential between them gets referenced in an episode named for their “honeymoon.”

“You’re like that hero every little girl wants to be when they grow up.”

Ruby’s obsession with Daisy, right down to her poster on the wall, is like a representation of the most worrisome of “fans.” But this line made me think about the fact that Daisy is the first superpowered heroine in the MCU continuity, isn’t she? Yes, Peggy Carter and Black Widow came before her, but they have training, not powers. Someone correct me if I’m wrong.

Piper and Mack winging major surgery

Not an Easter egg, but I like that they at least provided an explanation for how Piper and Mack can even attempt to perform major surgery on someone. Also, you know who else had field medic training on a strike team? Trip. You’re welcome for that memory. I’m also glad that the show allowed Piper to be part of the storyline because I really like her. And can we take her “she’s not my type” comment about Deke’s crush on Daisy to confirm that her character is a lesbian? Because one of the things I love about Briana Venskus’ fan interaction is that she believes all of her comic book series characters are. (She’s also on Supergirl and The Walking Dead.)

“We’re here if they need a hand.”

I don’t know if that was intentional, but it’s totally a nod to Coulson having one prosthetic hand, right?

The chamber

We get confirmation that this is how SHIELD/Hydra experimented on Creel, which is nice. But it’s also nice that the design is similar to what was used to create the super soldier that is Captain America. It’s a clear update of the 1940s technology considering it doesn’t require an entire bank of switches and toggles now.

Elena’s mech arms overloading

Not an Easter egg here, but a continuity issue. Elena did use her super speed to lock Mack in a cell last week. Now, it appears her new arms can’t handle the speed? Not sure if that’s an error, or if we can chalk the malfunction up to her messing up the calibration by doing it last week.

“I’m protecting England from evil robots with the man I love.”

This is a cute line, but it made me think of Doctor Who where there is always a need to protect England from some villainy, and sometimes that villainy is Cybermen. Seems fitting for a pair of Doctor Who fans.

Compliance will be rewarded

Just when you all thought we were done with this nasty little bit of Hydra. Apparently, Glenn didn’t just get tortured under Hale’s care, but he also got brainwashed. I guess it makes sense that the compliance technique is something Hale would use since she was so close with Whitehall. It does make you wonder if she ever attempted to use it on Ruby though too since Ruby can’t figure out why she doesn’t just kill her own mother.

As usual, if I find any more on a rewatch, I’ll edit them in.

[jarienn972]

Only a Little Superstitious - Chapter 14

As real life has been a bit hectic lately, I haven’t had a lot of time to spend in my fictional worlds to get some writing done.  Finally found some time to get this chapter finished up and while it’s a bit shorter than prior chapters, it has some important interactions for Emma: one with Grandmother Bending Willow and one with Killian. She knows that some big decisions will need to be made soon so this chapter gives a peek into her state of mind.  Just a little dash of fluff and a little dash of angst here...

AO3  FF.net  

From the beginning on Tumblr: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13

After a lengthy but ultimately successful argument with Regina, Emma had the Queen's promise that the dagger would soon be on its to Arizona. Emma's explanation as to why she needed it hadn't been particularly easy; their theory was certainly far-fetched at best but it was the most plausible reasoning they had and thankfully, Regina was persuaded to humor Emma's crazy idea. Now, half an hour after the conversation with Regina ended, Emma and Grandmother Bending Willow sat in Killian's sharing their own quiet repartee until the vibration from Emma's cell phone interrupted them. Glancing at the screen, Emma could see that it was a lengthy text from Regina informing her that the courier had just departed Storybrooke and was now heading to Portland to put the package on a plane bound for their distribution center in Philadelphia. From there, the package would be transferred onto another aircraft to Phoenix and was expected to arrive there approximately 6:30pm Mountain Time.

Still wishing there had been a magical (and faster) way to get this incredibly important package here, Emma typed out a brief response, knowing in her own mind that these next few hours would be an anxiety-ridden waiting game. She could only imagine what story Regina had given the courier upon handing over a package containing not only the potion which was cleverly concealed inside tiny plastic prescription bottles Dr. Whale had provided but a very old and very sharp ornate ceremonial dagger. Hopefully, Mayor Mills had stressed the importance of the contents enough to impart a little fear into the courier – enough to ensure a safe, timely arrival. Regina had advised earlier that she had prepared enough potion for two doses and each was disguised as cough medicine should there be any scrutiny. The dagger had been identified as a historical object being sent for authentication through the National Parks Service representative who had located it through the assistance of the Storybrooke Historical Society. The latter organization didn't actually exist, but it provided a legitimate cover story to convince the courier to accept the weapon.

So now it was all about waiting. Emma was no stranger to waiting around, having spent many a sleepless night staking out a skip, but this experience was testing her patience. Killian's life was being threatened, both by the very real physical wounds as well as magically through the effects of the dagger's dark magic and there was no easy way to help him. Even with Grandmother's offer to stay and keep her company, Emma was anxious and this was going to be an aggravatingly long day, especially if Killian didn't wake soon. The longer he remained unconscious, the more Emma worried he might not wake at all. She'd honestly been surprised that he was already back in the room when they returned from the garage – even more so to discover that the doctors hadn't put the breathing tube back down his throat. Not being intubated made it slightly less of a battle to get the potion into him but he still had to actually be conscious to drink it.

Grandmother had done her best to help quell the evil spirits she sensed surrounding Killian. She'd added an additional turquoise stone and a few additional items to the medicine pouch including a tiny bundle of dried leaves bound with a thin piece of straw and another carved amulet, although Emma didn't get a close enough look at the stone to see what it resembled. The old woman drew the leather cord tightly closed again and repositioned atop Killian's chest.

"He is weak right now, but he still has much fight in him," Grandmother insisted as she hovered above his slumbering form. "These spirits have not been kind, but their time will soon pass. Time is short however as the Blood Moon will soon rise."

"It's tonight, isn't it?" Emma asked aloud, even though she already knew the answer.

"Yes, only a few hours from now," the elder woman replied.

"So, if we calculate that it's been three days since Yzma started all of this, then we've got three days left in our window of opportunity to re-open the portal," Emma thought out loud. "Assuming we can locate the right spot out in the vast expanse of desert and mountains where the magic might be strong enough…" Her sleep-deprived brain was running on overload as she contemplated all of the possibilities and probabilities that needed to align just perfectly to activate the portal. Not exactly as simple as tossing a damned bean. "And this is assuming that I can somehow summon the magic out of the mountains too and magically repair that broken dagger… Who am I kidding? I could rent a car and we'll be home in three or four days… but…"

Grandmother had a faint smile stretching across her lips as she placed a reassuring hand atop Emma's shoulder. She sensed the younger woman's apprehension and didn't envy any of the decisions Emma would need to make, but she knew her place was to guide Emma toward the right choices. "You've not made that decision because you fear he wouldn't survive the journey." She wanted Emma to know that she understood her hesitation to use such non-traditional methods – such untested methods. "I do see how these decisions are vexing you. No journey will be without risk, but I have felt a strength in you that is unlike any other being I've encountered. Listen to your heart. Listen to Killian's heart. There, you will find the answers you seek and you will be able to chose the correct path."

Emma tipped her head upward so that her gaze met the Navajo woman's warm and understanding brown eyes. Almost at once, Emma no longer felt the same insecurity and sadness. Something about those wise, knowing eyes filled her aching soul with a few moments of peace.

"Thank you," Emma said as she wiped at her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her hand. "I honestly can't thank you and Carlos enough for all you've done for us. You opened your home to a couple of strangers and believed my crazy stories about who we are and how we got here. I feel like we've known both of you forever and somehow, you seem to know me so well."

"I have always believed that people are brought into our lives for a specific reason. It may not always be clear what that reason may be at first, but there may always be some greater purpose." Grandmother's words certainly spoke to the wisdom of her years, yet while she couldn't quite figure out why, Emma's head told her there might be some other unknown connection. No matter what they might share though, nothing could disguise Emma's obvious fatigue and Grandmother's maternal instinct took over. "Now, I know you must be exhausted, child. It may be a while before your husband wakes and you should use that time to rest. You sleep for a while and I will wake you when he does."

"Okay," Emma replied with a weak nod of her bedraggled blonde head. "I'm not even going to argue." She sank back into the chocolate colored vinyl armchair trying to find a comfortable position. "I don't know if I'll actually sleep, but I'll still try." Grandmother grinned at the younger woman as located the spare blanket in the cabinet and handed it to Emma. There was no fooling this old woman. She knew Emma would be sound asleep in a matter of minutes – and she wasn't wrong.

The gentle nudge barely registered to Emma. The sensation of a hand upon her shoulder dissolved into her dreamscape until the sound of her name being called at last roused her from her deep sleep.

"I'm awake…" Emma stammered. "I'm awake…" She repeated the mantra as she stretched her cramped legs and twisted her torso as she attempted to work out the uncomfortable kink in her spine that came from sleeping in a chair with her knees nearly drawn up to her chest. She tried to remember if Storybrooke had a chiropractor because she was definitely going to need one once they returned home.

"Good afternoon," Grandmother's soft, calming voice replied. "I hope you had a good rest, but I knew you would like to know that your husband has awakened as well."

"Killian's awake?" Emma bolted upright, aches, pains and lingering drowsiness forgotten as her eyes darted immediately to the bed to her left.

"He is indeed, but he is still very weak," Grandmother warned. "He's been drifting in and out of consciousness for about an hour, but he seems to be coherent now. His mind is much sharper than you described earlier and he even remembered my name, although perhaps the spirits reminded him of that. We will not worry about those spirits right now though and I will give the two of you some privacy. Would you like me to bring something back for you later? You must be starving, child…"

"Coffee would be wonderful," Emma responded with a gracious smile. "Not sure about anything else… I haven't really thought about food, although I'd never turn down a good grilled cheese sandwich."

The old woman grinned, happy to see Emma's spirits lightening somewhat now that Killian had awakened. His battle was still far from over and Grandmother had made a vow that she would remain here to aid this couple until the evil was dispatched.

Killian had only heard portions of their conversation, his eyes still closed as he forced himself to remember where he was and what he'd been through. He was struggling with the tempting pull of the darkness and its pain-free bliss, but he knew he needed to be awake. Needed to let his wife know that there was still plenty of fight in him. "Swan?" His voice may have been raspy and barely audible, but it was a sound that didn't cease to make Emma smile.

"I'm right here," she replied, grasping his trembling outstretched hand. His skin was still far too warm and as he turned his head toward her and allowed his eyelids to open slowly against the assault of the bright overhead lights, Emma was heartbroken to discover that his eyes didn't seem as blue anymore. They were dull and greyish, lacking his usual spark. She squeezed his fingers tightly as she hopped out of the vinyl chair and moved to join him on the narrow bed. "Are you still hurting as much as earlier?" Oh, what a dumb question to ask, she chastised herself as the words rolled off her tongue.

"No, Love…" he assured her with a feeble attempt at a classic Killian Jones smirk. He didn't want her constantly worrying about him, but she wouldn't be easily convinced. "Still a few aches and pains, but it's not so bad…"

"You're a lousy liar, Killian Jones," was her response to his statement. "You're still way too warm and you're recovering from a very real stab wound while simultaneously having to fight the supernatural effects that the damned broken dagger left behind, so please, will you just be honest with me?"

"Not sure what you want me to say…" he said, not really knowing where to even begin. His skin may feel warm to her, but he in fact felt chilled clear to the bone. Half of the tremors in his limbs were caused by shivering, but the pain was still a very real factor as well. Whatever drugs were coursing through his veins merely dulled the constant discomfort. His entire torso ached with indescribable variations of agony – part searing, part throbbing and part crushing. How did he dare attempt to put this into words without horrifying the love of his life? "Yes, I'm in pain, Love, but it's no worse than anything I've experienced before and I've no intent to give in to it."

"Regina's potion will be here in just a few more hours," she reminded him. "If we can get the dark magic blocked, it should help you regain some of your strength and hopefully, get rid of the damned fever. Have you remained any movement in your legs yet?" She'd been assured by the doctors that he'd suffered no permanent damage from the broken dagger tip and that as the swelling decreased, he should recover normal movement but as she watched him squeeze his eyelids closed to concentrate, all she saw was complete and utter frustration etched into his features.

"It would appear not," he replied in a dejected voice and she immediately lowered her body against his, hugging him as tightly as she could without injuring him further.

"It will be alright," she assured him, resting her head on his shoulder even as she raised up a bit, feeling the pressure of the bag of rocks squished between their bodies. She intentionally turned her face away from his, not wanting to upset him with her now steadily flowing tears.

"I know, Swan," was all he said. She may have been shielding him from seeing her tears, but it didn't mean he couldn't feel the dampness soaking through the thin fabric of this awful dressing gown the hospital had put on him. "You're so tense, Love… Have you slept any?"

Seriously? Emma thought to herself as she tried to stop the waterworks, a tiny smile stretching across her dampened face. He was the one lying here feverish and in pain, and yet he was worried about her? "I got to sleep a little," she insisted. "It wasn't easy, but Grandmother can be very persuasive…"

"Good. 'Knew I liked that old woman…"

"Okay," she grinned, lifting her head so she could once again meet him eye to eye. "Don't you worry about me, Pirate. You just concentrate on getting yourself better…"

"That sounded like an order…" he teased.

"Did it need to be?" she laughed, thankful that he was in good enough spirits to taunt her with a joke. "Look, you just worry about getting some rest because I want to see you back on your feet and out of that bed…"

"Too tempting to not take advantage of me?" Killian asked with a devilish smirk, nearly convincing her that he was back to his normal, saucy swagger but it was too blatantly obvious that the amorous grin was merely a façade.

"Hardly," she chided with a small, unamused shake of her head. "Although you do cut quite the figure in that blue and white hospital gown… What exactly is that print? Paisley? No – are those little crescent moons?"

"Can't say I've been bothered to notice," was his reply, not even caring what design the ugly garment possessed. "What is the purpose of this bloody garment anyway? Scarcely covers anything and it's godawful scratchy…"

"I'm not even going to attempt to give a response to that because honestly, I don't really know. I'd say modesty, but since they tend to leave your backside hanging out, who the hell knows? I'm just glad to see your sense of humor returning. Makes me feel a little better…"

"Nothing to fear… I may be temporarily incapacitated, but that does not mean I've lost any of my charm or wit…"

"You're incorrigible," Emma chuckled. "That's what you are." He could joke all he wanted, but it was becoming evident that he was extremely tired. "Anyway, I know you're exhausted. I'm going to go find Grandmother. You just sleep…"

"So, was that an order?" he asked, eyelids already drooping.

"Yes, that was an order, Deputy. Love you." She wasn't certain he even heard her reply as his body had already gone slack with sleep. "Love you," she repeated, pressing a kiss into the back of his hand before replacing it at his side while she stood, eyes drawn to the clock on the wall next to the sink. It was now nearly 3pm. Just a few more hours to go and things should get better.