#my day sucked but this arrival has made things immeasurably better

[emathevampire]

the necromancer: “why do you have mail from tumblr??”

me: “because i am a very important person on the internet, clearly.”

[howggswouldreact]

♡ Serenity | Seulgi

Request: hii, can u write a fluf scenario with seulgi of red velvet where they gf have a bad day on the University and she tries to comfort her with cuddles and a lot of kisses ? thank u sorry for bad English ❤️❤️❤️

Plot: Reader has a terrible day at college and Seulgi is the only person who can help her feel better.

Words: 1,553

Genre: fluff, college!au

Notes: this is one of my favs i’ve wrote... hope you like it! ♡ ♡

You never thought that one day could be as bad as this one. And by just thinking about it, you were afraid it was going to start raining and a lightning bolt would hit the very top of your head, as it usually happens in the movies.

Since you woke up for classes, everything was going wrong. You stumbled when you got out of bed. When you went to take a shower the water that came out was strong and the fast jet was as cold as snow on Christmas morning. You put your blouse on the wrong side and had to come back to fix it. And, for some reason, you had the feeling that you were forgetting something. Luckily, you weren't late.

What was happening? It seemed to you that the day was destined to be a bad one. Was it some kind of curse? You didn’t know. But you were asking the universe not to make it worse.

However, it can be cruel when it wants to.

When you arrived at your first class of the day, you realized what you had forgotten: the last exam of the semester.

How could you miss such an important detail like this? It was the last one! And a subject that you were not so familiar with. Okay, your week was terrible, exam after exam, project after project, you weren't sleeping well or even eating well.

Sitting down and picking up your pen, you took a deep breath and looked at the paper that was deposited by your teacher right in front of you. Closing your eyes slowly, you thought of all the content you had learned, went over every detail in your own mind and hoped you hadn't missed one. You would need calm but, mainly, you would need luck.

A few kilometers and a few hours later, on the same campus, your girlfriend, Seulgi, was concerned. While sitting with two of her friends, Yerim and Joohyun, she texted you asking if you were eating or at least had a glass of water. The answer was almost always negative, so Seulgi's concern increased and made her heart squeeze. But since you didn't respond right away, she sighed heavily and put the phone back in her jacket pocket.

"Honestly, girls, I miss Y/N..."

"This is new!", Yerim said in a boring tone, used to Seulgi always saying how much she missed you, even though she saw you the night before.

“No, I'm serious, I haven't seen her in over a week. And we study at the same university! ”

Yerim's eyebrows went up in surprise. Joohyun, who was concentrating on her milkshake, finally spoke up.

“This last semester is very stressful, Seulgi, maybe she won't be able to manage everything at once. At least she had answered your messages, right?”

“Yes, but she is putting college above her own well-being! That's what worries me. She is not taking care of herself. ”

Seulgi's cell phone rang and when she picked it up she realized it was a call from you. She answered it.

"Hey, babe!", she said, with a huge smile on her face.

"Hey..."

From the tone of your voice, Seulgi knew there was something wrong.

"Did something happen?", she asked, worried about you.

"I’ve had a very bad day..."

"Tell me where you are and I will get you."

While waiting for Seulgi with the backpack on your shoulders, you looked at the sun, which was setting behind the tall gray buildings of the university. You were feeling drained and connecting with nature wouldn't work to recharge your batteries. Then you looked down at the sidewalk and there she was, in a black jacket and her hair hanging loose over her shoulders, a beautiful smile, which was the only thing capable of recharging your batteries.

Seulgi approached you and hugged you.

"Are we going to my apartment?"

You nodded.

You both walked hand in hand all the way. Her apartment was not far from the campus and it was much more comfortable for you two than your dorm. And your roommate would be there so you wouldn’t have privacy and you wouldn’t talk about your feelings to Seulgi.

When you arrived at her apartment, you hugged her again, and the feeling of her arms around you made you feel at home. Seulgi was your home.

"What do you think about..." she started to speak, fingers sliding through your hair as she slid her nose to yours. "... taking a shower to relax while I order your favorite food and put a really bad movie for us to watch?"

You smiled and felt her lips on top of yours. Seulgi sucked your lower lip and gave it a light peck, her hands cupping your face, her thumbs giving a gentle touch on your cheeks.

"I think it's a good idea.", you said when the kiss ended.

You went to shower in Seulgi's suite and she took out her cell phone to order your favorite food at a restaurant near her apartment. She asked for the order to come neatly arranged and even tipped the restaurant as an incentive.

In the bath, you tried to relax. There, the water was at a pleasant temperature. There, you were feeling well. It was as if everything needed Seulgi's presence to finally come into balance. You stayed like that for a while, so immersed in your own thoughts that you didn't hear the bell ring or even when Seulgi came in and out of the room quickly.

You came out of the bathroom and saw on the bed clothes that Seulgi had separated for you to wear. Smiling to yourself as you got dressed, you thought of how lucky you were to have her in your life and how she made difficult days easily light, as if she had done some kind of magic.

"Do you prefer to eat here on the sofa to watch TV or in the bedroom?", asked Seulgi.

She wasn’t wearing her jacket anymore and hadn’t turned to you yet. She was taking the food out of the bags she had received from the delivery man minutes earlier.

"It's so warm!", she said, pointing to the food on the table and turning to you. "Oh, Gosh! We haven't seen each other in so long that I forgot how beautiful you look in my clothes!”

“Hey, it was only for a week! I couldn't stay away from my teddy bear for a long time... ”, you laughed.

"Any time without you is a long time, you know that.", she pulled you by the hand and kissed your forehead.

"Silly!", you said, approaching and inhaling the delicious scent of the food. "My goodness, just smell that... Definitely, let's eat here in the living room!"

So, as Seulgi had said, you started eating while watching a cliché movie from the 00s' on Netflix, a very boring romantic comedy. This early evening made you feel that everything was completely different from your morning. Like the two sides of the same coin: one side, in the morning, was completely dirty and dusty; on the other side, it was shiny, shiny like your girlfriend's smile.

You finished eating and Seulgi stroked your hair, sitting next to you on the floor. She was facing you, the movie was of no importance to her, and you knew those dark eyes were reading you.

"Do you want to tell me how you're feeling?", she asked you, her quiet, low voice taking a path so deeply from your ears to your heart that you just started to cry.

All the feeling of tiredness, physical and mental exhaustion, leaving in an intense flow of tears. That simple sentence by Seulgi broke a wall, releasing trapped feelings.

Her arms went around your body, warming you up and giving you the security you needed at that moment, that terrible month. She kissed your cheek several times, kissed your temple, said everything you needed to hear:

"Everything will be fine, my love."

But, unlike when other people say the same thing, hearing those words coming out of Seulgi's mouth brought an immeasurable truth, a certainty that left no room for doubt. Everything would really be fine.

Then the tears gradually stopped, your breathing normalized and Seulgi wiped your face with the tips of the sleeves of her blouse. She placed a kiss on the tip of your nose, making a smile appear on your lips.

"This is how you should look, always with that smile that I love on your lips.", she pulled you closer, caressed your face, smiling at you.

Her lips traveled every corner of your face until they finally found your lips, applying soft pecks mixed with smiles. Seulgi had your heart and knew how to take care of it better than anyone.

"Thank you.”, you said, leaning your forehead against hers.

"For what?", she asked, confused.

"For being the best girlfriend in the world."

"I only accept thanks if it is in the form of kisses."

You smiled, your eyes alternating between her mouth and her perfect eyes.

"I think it is a price that I am willing to pay.”, you replied.

And you leaned down to join your lips to hers, finding that taste of serenity that only Seulgi’s lips had.

[fangirlxwritesx67]

Samhain

Christmas Tea (3000 words) NYE Bubbly (1500 words) Valentine’s Day Chocolate (2100 words) Happy Birthday Sam (2000 words)  Samhain (3600 words) 

Sam X Rowena A/N: did anyone ask for 3600 words of Samwitch Witch!Sam? No? Well, I still wrote it. Also managed to delete the first posting, so trying again. 

Tags: sex, so much consensual sex, oral sex, finger banging, discussion of edging, some language, mild dirty talk, fisting, magic sex and/or sex pollen, alcohol, Rowena being irresistible, size kink, hand kink 

It had been almost a year since the first time that an invitation to Rowena’s apartment turned into a sizzling night of sex for her and Sam. Since then, they had celebrated several holidays and spent many more visits just enjoying one another. 

While their relationship grew, Sam’s understanding and practice of magic had grown, too. Before, he had assisted Rowena with a few spells when needed, but had never studied spellwork for any purpose other than undoing the results. Now, he was gradually learning the rhythms of magic, the phases of the moon, and the cycle of a witch’s calendar. 

He might light an occasional candle, or burn some herbs - really, nothing he hadn’t been doing as a hunter for years. Although Dean teased him about being Rowena’s protege, he certainly wouldn’t consider himself a witch. 

He did notice, from time to time, that he felt increasingly aware of Rowena’s power. At first, he brushed it off as just the intense physical attraction between them, or his interested attention to her every word and move. But there were moments, he could swear, where he actually saw her manipulate the forces of magic, like light around her body. 

He understood more than ever how important Samhain was to Rowena. He knew that it was the most powerful Sabbat for a witch, the starting point for the Wheel of the Year. Still he was surprised when she told him she wanted - no, needed - to join her that night.  He couldn’t imagine what she had in mind. But she had called, so he went to her. 

He didn’t know what she was planning, but he also didn’t want to come unprepared. He found a bottle of wine called Witches’ Brew, so he bought it. Rowena had very specific tastes, so she might hate it, but at least he wouldn’t arrive empty handed. 

On October 31, Sam knocked at Rowena’s door. She greeted him wearing black from head to toe, sheer black, some kind of shimmery thin robe that clung to her curves and swirled around her every motion.   

She took the wine and led him to the kitchen. He watched her hips sway as she walked, taking in the fact that her underwear was little more than bits of lace and lacing across the cleft of her ass. The room was aglow with banks of white candles casting a warm light over everything. 

She uncorked the bottle and then turned to face him. “This wine is better heated.” He watched as swirls of light coiled upwards from her hand around the bottle, and was not surprised when the glass she poured him was hot. He took a sip. It reminded him of her kisses, that spicy sweetness that he could never get enough of.

She seemed to know it, too, as she met his gaze with a smirk. She raised her glass and he followed suit. For a long moment, the two of them sat and sipped in comfortable silence. Finally, she spoke again.

“There is a spell a witch can only perform when she has another witch for a lover, one who is true of heart and same of soul.” 

She reached for a wide shallow bowl at the other end of the table, one Sam had not noticed before. 

“What-” She silenced him with the press of her fingers on his lips. Without thinking, he kissed them. She smiled to herself and dipped those fingertips into the water that filled the bowl. 

“Look,” she commanded. 

He watched as the water rippled and clouded, and then faded into a scene of the woods. Between the trees he could just barely make out - Rowena, walking on and on. At first it was almost too dark to see, but the moon rose, growing and grew full and heavy as she continued her journey onward.

The moon in the scrying bowl was pearly bright when the image of Rowena reached a broad slab of stone, an altar, he supposed. She was not alone, there was a taller figure there, and as he peered more closely, he saw that it was him. He watched in the water as they joined hands before it rippled again, a glow covering the water, and the scene disappeared.

“I need you, Samuel. For days now, since the new moon, I have been - denying myself the pleasure of sexual release. Saving, so to speak, for tonight, for you. “My power will increase immeasurably if you will complete this cycle with me.”

“So you want me to -?”

“Perform this spell with me. Pleasure me, satisfy me, make love to me all night long.” 

Her green eyes were wide and bright, the words spilling like stars from her glossy lips. 

He didn’t have to think twice before nodding. “For you, yes, whatever you ask.” 

The smile that crossed her face was smug, as if she had no doubt that he would agree. She stood and gathered a few things before taking a seat again.  

“Oh, and one more thing. Once the spell is cast, it must be satisfied. I am trusting you with this.” 

He nodded again, unsure how to answer. 

Rowena sprinkled herbs over the surface of the water before reaching out. Sam took her hand in his and allowed her to weave a broad ribbon between their joined fingers and then around their wrists. He helped her tie it in a knot, binding his intention with hers. She murmured words in a voice too low for him to hear and the ribbon dissolved into a ring of light, tiny sparks sizzling downward.

She stood up, and he stood with her. Their lips met as she sank into his arms with a sigh, and he savored the flavor of dark wine and spices in her mouth. More than ever, her kisses felt magical, lips pressing, sucking, tasting, exploring, all hot and slippery and close.

Sam was so lost in her, in the warmth of her body in his hands, that it took him a little while to realize that she was whimpering, grinding against him shamelessly like a cat in heat. She was always open with her desire, but this was something new. 

“What do you want?” he murmured as his lips pressed down the column of her neck. “Tell me, my queen, tell me exactly what you want.”

“Take me to bed, my love.” she begged. 

He raised one eyebrow and looked around. The couch, the table - plenty of times in the past, they hadn’t made it to the bedroom. 

She followed his gaze and shook her head, her eyes wide and imploring, “Bed, now.” As if to make her point, she pulled away, tugging on his hand, nearly dragging him down the hall. 

The bedroom, like the kitchen, was arrayed with candles on every side. Sam drew in a deep breath of the air, heavy with incense. In the flickering flames, he saw goddesses, crystals, and cards, the shadowy light making everything seem more arcane and fantastic. 

Rowena lay back against the bank of pillows on the bed, her hair like coiled vines against the silky dark sheets. She reached for him, hands curling with need. He stripped off his clothes before kneeling on the bed at her feet. 

Instead of leaning into her grasp, he sat back, sliding his hands along her pale legs, pushing the sheer cloth of her gown up in voluminous folds. His hands settled around her waist, thumbs stroking the dip of her hip bones. He pulled down, fingers spreading to cup the swell of her ass as he slipped off the bits of lace and ribbon that made up her panties.

She was bare before him but still he took his time, pressing kisses to her creamy thighs as she whimpered and sighed. 

“Don’t tease,” she murmured.

There was nothing he loved more than to tease her, to hear her beg. But he had promised to do whatever she asked. He lowered his face into the copper curls over her sex. The taste of her was better than the best wine, warm and wet. 

He had barely begun with his lips and tongue before she bucked up against his face, the softest sighs falling from her lip as her legs shook around him. He paused, took a breath, and then pressed in again. He slipped one finger, then another into her. Her entire body drew up, quaking under his attention, before she let go with a cry. 

“Samuel,” she panted. “I’ve waited long enough. I need you, inside me, now.” 

It was the easiest command he had ever obeyed. He slid up, over her, meeting her mouth with the taste of her still on his lips. She was whimpering again, begging, her hips rising up to grind against him. 

He looked at her and saw her eyes were glazed with desire. “Are you sure-?” 

“Please,” she cried, her fingers scrambling for purchase on his shoulders. 

Sliding into her was like coming home, the tight wet heat of her so close and perfect. Sam heard himself moaning, unexpected and needy.

“Yes,” Rowena panted. “Please, I need you to, goddess, fuck, Sam, I- you-” 

It was nonsense, the broken curses falling from her lips, but watching her mouth was enough, the contrast between her beauty and the profanities. Sam trailed his lips and tongue down around her breasts as she tilted her head back, gasping and panting. 

He felt her clench around him and he groaned her name. For one long moment, he was lost- in the woods, under the light of the moon - and then he slammed back into his body. He came hot and helpless inside of Rowena as she cried and tightened and let loose underneath him. 

For one long breathless moment they clung to one another, sweaty and shattered. Sam could just see stray sparks of magic trailing off Rowena’s skin, into the dim light around them. Finally he rolled onto his side. Rowena made a soft sound of loss before he turned her into his embrace. He trailed his fingers softly over her hair, feeling her racing heart next to his. Finally her breath slowed and settled. 

“Shower?” Sam asked gently. She nodded in response. Sam stood up and held out both hands, pulling her to her feet. He helped her out of her gown and guided her to the bathroom, where he turned on the water steaming hot, the way he knew she liked it, as she twisted up her hair. They stepped into the shower together, bodies pressed together, slippery wet in the close space. 

Sam took Rowena’s body wash and lathered it over her shoulders, caressing her skin with open palms. He rubbed her back in broad circles before she spun to face him. He took his time, fingers following the trail of the water over her body, across her collarbones and down her ribs before he pressed up, farther, cupping her small high breasts in both hands. He circled her nipples, watching them rise and harden under the creamy bubbles of body wash. 

Her mouth dropped open, lips curving as her hands groped for his waist, tugging him against her. She shifted, pressing her thighs together. “You can’t just- I need- more, please.”

“Ok, hang on.” He murmured, “Let me, we’ve gotta take care of the soap.” He spun until she was under the shower, spray bouncing off her shoulders as the water sluiced down her skin. Once the last bubble swirled down the drain, he turned again so her back was pressed against the end of the shower. 

He knelt in front of her and looked up to meet her gaze. Her face was expectant, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths. He lifted one of her legs, hooking her knee over his shoulder. He steadied her with his hands around her waist as he dipped between her thighs. Her soft whines and panting moans echoed off the walls of the shower as he pleasured her until she came again, going limp in his grasp, trusting his grip to hold her up and not let her fall. 

Once she could stand on her own two feet again, Sam turned off the water. He grabbed one of the luxurious fluffy towels and patted her dry from head to toe. Her pale skin was already pink from water and pleasure. The shower had washed off her makeup, leaving her face bare. She looked younger like this, softer. He covered the freckles on her cheeks with whisper-light kisses, and her eyes widened, pools of green framed by her wet red lashes. 

“Come back to bed with me,” she murmured, holding out one hand. He reached for her, let her lead him, following her every wish. Back in the bedroom, in the wash of candlelight, her skin seemed luminous, lit with a glow from within.

They lay on the bed together, facing one another, lips meeting and parting and meeting again. Sam’s hands roamed her bare body, over every curve and angle. He knew her, this was familiar, but he never tired of touching her, holding her. As his hand strayed lower, pressing into the dip of her hips, she whimpered. 

Her fingers closed around his, drawing his hand up to cup her face, nuzzling her cheek into his palm.

“Your hands, goddess,” she murmured. “I think about them all the time, think about all the things you can do. I want you so much, want your hand inside me.”

“I know you love my fingers, love how you come on them for me,” he whispered with a kiss. 

“No.” She pulled back and looked at him, green eyes wide and hot with lust. “Your hand, your whole hand.”

He sat up, running one hand through his tangled chestnut hair. She followed his movement with a glance, unable to stop the whimper that fell from her lips, watching the way his fingers slipped through the silky strands. 

“Are you sure?” His brow furrowed with doubt. 

“Have I ever lied to you or been anything other than completely honest with my desires?” Her voice was low, breathy and utterly convincing. 

She was, as always, right. He slicked his hand with lube before slipping two fingers into her, working her over with his thumb as he pumped his fingers in and out. This was familiar for them, from their very first time. 

“More,” she gasped, and he obeyed, adding a third finger, curling up against her as she clenched down around him. He kept up his pace, whispering endearments and encouragement until she came with a high whine. 

“You still want this?” he stopped to check. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I know you won’t. Please, do as I ask.” 

He nodded and tucked his thumb against his palm, pressing into her slow and steady, giving her time to stretch around him. When his knuckles slipped into her, she hissed sharply. He paused, waiting, until she drew a deep breath and nodded. 

He rocked his hand, taking his cues from her increasingly frantic groans of pleasure. Her head tipped back, slim fingers fisting handfuls of the sheets. 

When he heard her first low curse, he knew she was close to letting go. He smiled as he lowered his mouth to her, lips ghosting over her clit with the lightest of kisses as he turned his knuckles again inside her. 

Her back bowed up, arching off the bed, hips tipping toward him, her entire body taut and quivering. Her breath tore into ragged moans and her thighs shook around his ears. This time he was waiting, watching, and saw light envelop her entire body in a wash of iridescent color. She cried his name in ecstasy as she came. 

He eased his hand out slowly, stroking her through the aftershocks that left her trembling and flushed, little bursts of magic still sparkling off her skin. When her body was fully relaxed, he stretched out next to her and pressed his lips to hers. Her cheeks were blushed pink, little curls sticking damply to her temples. 

The sheer amount of pleasure they had enjoyed together was incredible, to say nothing of the magical power she had revealed. He could’ve kept going, was aroused and wanted so much more. But he could see that, for now, she was done. He would wait. 

He went to the bathroom to wash up and returned with a damp cloth and a towel. Her eyes were closed, heavy lashes fluttering open under his touch. She watched lazily as he wiped her skin with strong sure strokes. 

Then he slid into bed behind her, pulling the covers up over her and tugging her back against his chest. She nuzzled against him, her movements slow and sated. He slipped one arm around her, holding her, keeping her close. He didn’t quite catch her words as she drifted off to sleep, but it sounded like she called him, “...my witch, Sam.” 

The full moon shined through the bedroom window, casting a pale beam over Rowena’s alabaster skin. He watched her for a long moment, wondering not for the first time at her reckless vulnerable beauty. 

He didn’t feel worthy of being her lover, much less her partner in magic. He didn’t deserve to work a spell with her, not even one as wonderful as this one. But she had chosen him. And with that thought in his mind, he fell asleep too. 

That night, Sam dreamed of the scene Rowena had shown him in the scrying bowl, picking up where the vision had left off. He saw himself with her on the broad stone altar, naked in the glow of the moon. He caught glimpses of some of the things they had done together. As the moon grew low just before dawn, Rowena lay back in his arms. Her magic was visible in bands of light circling her body, weaving between them, sigils sparking off into the trees. 

“Samuel,” he heard her whisper his name softly, and his eyes slowly opened. He saw Rowena in his arms, just as he had dreamed, but without the forest or the magic. Just holding her, loving her, was magic enough for him. As their lips met, he let his hands slowly roam her body, her beautiful generous body that had given him so much pleasure. 

He could tell the spell had been satisfied by her response, by the way she hummed lazily, without the desperate desire that had driven their sex the night before. Still he had to ask-

“Did it work? Are you so much more powerful now?”

She threw back her head and laughed, full throated and free, before fixing him with an intense stare. “You saw it, didn’t you, in your dreams?” 

He knew better than to ask how she had seen it too, and instead just nodded. 

“You did so well, took such good care of me.” Her hand cupped his face, thumb easing across his bottom lip. “Thank you, my love.”

“Not like it was difficult, not with you.” Their lips met again and again, slow and seeking and deep. Rowena pressed closer to him, movements languid, pulling his body towards hers. He followed her lead, caressing her with strong sure hands, even as the touch of her fingertips left shivers on his skin. 

She pushed his shoulder back, not that she could move him, but showing him wordlessly what she wanted. He rolled back, tugging her with him. She sat up, shaking her hair back from her face as she straddled him. She planted both hands on his chest and ground down, drawing a sigh from his lips. 

His hands circled her waist as she took him in one hand and guided him into her. He saw her bite her lip as she sank down around him slowly. He let her set the pace, content to watch the way she moved, her endless sensual grace. 

Finally he tugged her shoulders down, so she lay atop him. One of his arms slipped around her back, embracing her, while the other settled over the small of her back, fingers splaying over the curve of her ass. She moved in a slow sinuous wave, rolling against him until a groan punched from his lips. 

“Come for me, one more time.” His voice was low and ragged, his hands sliding down over her thighs to pull her knees up around his waist. She rocked from side to side as he went deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside of her. 

Her mouth dropped open in a long moan, her hands curling into fists against his chest, and he felt her clamp tight around him. He gripped her waist, swiveling her down, grinding their bodies together as he thrust up over and over until finally she cried out, high and breathless. Only then did he let himself go, too. His vision went dark as his release hit him, and he glimpsed stars out of the corners of his eyes. 

For a long moment the two of them just lay like that, as close as two people could get to becoming one. The moment stretched, curved around them, the only sound the beating of their hearts. 

Sam didn’t want to break the silence, but when he glanced down, Rowena was looking up at him, her gaze bright and hopeful. 

“I’ll always do whatever you ask,” he promised softly. She nodded just once before their lips met again, sealing his words with a kiss. 

Thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ for the preread. @songofthecagedmoose​ made the graphic of Rowena in the sheer gown. 

SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho​ @dawnie1988​ @deanwanddamons​ @defenderrosetyler​ @divadinag​ @emoryhemsworth​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​ @idreamofplaid​ @kalesrebellion​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @maddiepants​ @magssteenkamp​ @onethirstyunicorn​   @there-must-be-a-lock​ @tloveswriting​

Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff​ @lilsylvia​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​

Rowena My Queen: @delightfullykrispypeach​ @lilsylvia​ @marril96​ @pansexualdarling @songofthecagedmoose​

Dean Curious:@adoptdontshoppets​ @awesomesusiebstuff​ @deangirl7695​ @deans-baby-momma​  @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @stoneyggirl​ @wayward-gypsy​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​

[yaz-the-spaz]

Purgatory (it's our paradise)

summary: liam has made a grave mistake, one that’s cost him everything. or so he thinks...

[or, what happens when fallen angel liam meets ifrit zayn]

a/n: This was alternatively going to be called ‘heaven in your eyes’ as the original parenthetical part of the title, but then I remembered the obvious line from pillow talk and couldn't resist

inspired by my friend @lstarry​ who originally sent me the liam pic and got the conversation rolling on fallen angel liam, which ofc forced this plotbunny into my head lol

fyi angels cry glittery tears in this

and also, to be clear, this is not exactly meant to THE purgatory, but just something like it/equivalent to it, a place on a similar plane but separate from all the other creatures/souls that would be in actual purgatory

rated: T (only for some slightly graphic descriptions of blood and gore, other than that this is mostly just G rated angsty fluff)

______________________________________________________________________

He shouldn’t be here.

That is the only thing that keeps running through Liam’s mind as he traipses on an endless journey through this foreboding forest, whipping thickets of thorny branches and brambles away from his face and arms, trying his best to shield his body from the worst of the blows with his wings. His wings which have already started to take on a mottled dark tawny color, slowly and steadily blackening the longer he spends here. It won’t be long now. Before they’re fully black. Before the ether of this place has turned his very soul into something dark and twisted. Or at least those are the stories he was always told. He doesn’t know how true they are. But he supposes he’s been spared an even more wicked fate. He could be in a place much worse than here. A place full of nothing but…the most absolute vile depravities and monstrous abominations, a place full of nothing but endless suffering and torment. Here at least toes the line, not quite pure, not quite evil, but rather hovering delicately somewhere in between.

It’s his own fault though. All of it. He just couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut. He’s always done his best to be so good. To fall in line. For so long he’s played the obedient little soldier, never questioning, never disobeying. But he just couldn’t do it any longer. He couldn’t do it. And now he’s gone and gotten himself cast out. Forever. Lost the only family he’s ever known, the only home he’s ever known. Traded it for this place, condemned to an eternity of loneliness, darkness.

He doesn’t want to cry, doesn’t want to give Father the satisfaction—because Liam knows He’s still watching, even here. But he can’t help it. He grieves for all that he’s lost, all that he’s given up in return for a life of squalor and desolation, tears sparkling at his eyes.

It wasn’t worth it.

If he could go back and do it all again, he wouldn’t. He’d keep his mouth shut, play the good soldier for the rest of eternity no matter the personal cost to him. He’d rather suffer in miserable silence the rest of his days, surrounded by his family, than be trapped here alone in this awful place, with no hope, no chance for redemption. This cold, dark place that is slowly sucking the light right out of him, leeching on all the tendrils of good still remaining within him.

Abruptly he reaches the edge of the forest, the heavy darkness ebbing away only slightly to illuminate a large clearing before him and he gasps, stopping short at the sight in front of him.

In the middle of the clearing is a creature, crouched down over another. The fog is too thick at the moment to make much out for certain but Liam can smell death in the air. Terror-struck, he darts back behind the trunk of the nearest tree.

But it’s too late. They’ve seen him.

A wicked-sounding laugh carries itself on the current of the air, almost as if tangible, as if latching itself onto the fog until it reaches Liam, sounding as if coming from right beside him. He jumps, darting to another tree, the taunting laughter somehow seeming to follow him, his own panting breaths coming short and fast in his ears. Back and forth he weaves between the trees, the laughter still seeming to echo behind him no matter which direction he goes, until finally it fades. And then a sudden thought occurs to him. He doesn’t know how much of it is the steady darkness creeping in, taking hold of him. He’s never thought anything like it before. Never had reason to before now. But he realizes that if the thing, the creature, in the clearing has killed another, then it is possible to be killed here. Not just hurt or maimed, but killed. He has never known the threat of death before. It was not a possibility for him back home, with Father.

He’d thought himself condemned to a miserable eternity here, but…perhaps not. Perhaps…there is another way out. Perhaps Father has given him some chance at solace after all. Surely ceasing to exist would be a better fate than endless millennia of this? A peaceful respite from a lifetime of loneliness and suffering, a lifetime of being consumed by immeasurable guilt and regret.

Resolute in his sudden decision, Liam steps out from behind the tree and ambles forward. If he is to meet his end today, he will meet it head on, like the soldier he was bred to be.

As he steps forward, however, the fog starts to clear a little and he realizes that the creature is not what he thought at all. Not the ghastly beast he was imagining, but a thin waif of a thing. Like him it has been made in Father’s image. Two arms, two legs, a face with a congruence of features not all that unlike his own. Two eyes, a mouth, a nose, even ears. Though, unlike Liam, it has no wings.

“What has Father sent me?” it calls out into the foggy darkness, in the deep voice of a male entity. “Come closer, let me see my gift.”

Curious, Liam steps further into the clearing, the fog wafting and parting around him, creating a path of sorts between them, allowing them to view each other more clearly.

“An angel?” the creature inquires aloud, his smile wicked-looking as he sets his sights on Liam. “Come, little angel. Don’t be afraid.”

As Liam edges closer more details start to come into view. A dead thing, more animal-like in nature, lays before the creature, body crumpled and twisted, covered in blood. It is obvious from the state of the carnage that there was a struggle, though whether this kill was for food or for pleasure, it is unclear.

But Liam is not afraid.

Moving forward still, his eyes meet the other’s, close enough to take him in fully. He is beautiful, Liam realizes. A particular, sharp, striking sort of beauty that Father only reserves for a lucky few of His creations. Already Liam was ready to meet this creature head-on, to accept whatever fate may befall him in their encounter, but strangely he finds himself being drawn in even more by the other’s gaze. His eyes are a warm brown, again not unlike Liam’s, but there is something else, something…volatile and fervid lurking behind them, something almost intoxicating in its intensity even.

Gaze still trained on Liam, who is still edging closer, the creature lifts his hand to brandish a dagger fashioned out of sharp-cut bone. He holds it purposefully in front of him, but somehow Liam can sense there is not a threat in it. Though he’s unsure if that is a good or a bad thing. A part of him wants the threat, wants the assurance of a welcome death, without the hindrance of games and dalliances. But still he moves forward, their eyes still trained on each other, the dagger still held firmly, but somehow also playfully, in the creature’s hand.

When Liam is only a few arms’ lengths away the creature’s smile briefly turns from wicked to animated—a strange, almost frenzied glee in it—before softening again, returning back to that more mischievous air as he brings the dagger toward his mouth. Eyes still reeling Liam in, he waits for Liam to get closer, closer. And then he licks the dagger, slowly and languidly, watching Liam like a taunt. And that's when Liam realizes that it's blood he's licking, all the while still looking Liam right in his eyes. Liam can’t look away. He shouldn’t find the sight so enticing but he does. This place is already starting to turn him, he realizes. Or perhaps it is whatever hidden power lies behind this stranger’s gaze. He doesn’t know, but he suddenly finds he doesn’t care.

Drawn in by those magnetic eyes, Liam stands there. Watching. Waiting. For what, he isn’t sure, but oddly he feels he could be content to watch this creature forever. Even if the creature was doing nothing at all, Liam thinks he would still want to watch.

When he has licked all the blood away, he sets the knife down and digs his other hand into the animal, pulling away neatly-cut strips of flesh that he must have already carved up earlier, before Liam arrived. Then he sticks his bloody hand out toward Liam, long strips of flesh dangling over his palm.

“To share,” he says simply.

It is nothing like the food Liam would have eaten back home, the sweet fruits that blossomed with flavor in his mouth. But he has been wading through the forest for what he is certain must have been at least a handful of millennia, if not more, and he is so hungry. He may not have view of the humans’ world any longer to help him mark the passage of time but he remembers what a millennium felt like and his journey through the forest had certainly not been a short one, even by his own kind’s standards of time.

Longingly, he drops to his knees, mouth watering, and takes the helpings offered to him, sinking his teeth in.

It is not altogether pleasant, but it is not entirely unpleasant either, and he finds it warms his belly in a rather soothing and satisfying way that the food of home never did.

When they have eaten their fill, and there is nothing left but bones and discarded scraps of skin, they settle back against the ground, faces tilted up to the sky. Through the fog, the faint twinkle of stars is still visible and it makes him long for home, a strange ache to his body. But a sudden soft touch to the feathers at the edge of his left wing startles him out of his thoughts and he abruptly sits back up.

The other creature mirrors him, sitting up to face Liam and they simply watch each other for a while before he reaches out again. Liam’s wing flinches a little, unused to such a touch from someone who is not his family.

“What are you?” Liam asks, the creature eyes still set on Liam’s face even while he pets delicately and curiously at Liam’s wing.

“I am ifrit. Born of fire.”

Liam only distantly remembers learning of the ifrit. There are some of Liam’s kind who have been around since the time of their creation, who remember when their own kind and the ifrit roamed earth freely with the humans, before there was so much separation of all the different realms. But that was long before Father created Liam, and he has never known a time of such freedom himself.

“What is your name?”

“I am called Zayn,” the creature says, still enamored by Liam’s wings. “And you?”

“Liam.”

“Liam,” Zayn repeats. “Hello, Liam.”

“Hello, Zayn.”

The fog around them has dissipated a bit more and Liam looks around, curiously. He wonders if this is the ifrit’s home. And if so where is his family? Surely there are others of his kind here that he lives among? Unless perhaps he is from another place, but has been cast out too, like Liam. He wishes he could remember more about the stories of the ifrit but he supposes it is really of no matter. They are both here now. They must make the best of it. At least he seems friendly, and willing to share.

“So soft,” Zayn says, still petting at Liam’s feathers. He smiles again but there is no seeming wickedness or deviousness to it this time, no manic excitement. Instead it is gentle, almost a wondrous, joyful sort of expression. “Father has sent me such a lovely gift.”

Liam frowns. “I am not a gift.”

“Of course you are,” he says, as if Liam is the one being silly. As if he can’t even fathom that Liam has only been sent here for punishment.

Liam sighs. Stupid ifrit. Perhaps he’s gone mad in his time here. Liam hopes that is not the fate that awaits him too.

“Where are you from?” Liam says instead, voicing his thoughts aloud. “Is this your home or were you cast out from your family too?”

“I am born of fire,” Zayn repeats.

Liam sighs again. Of course. The very moment he thinks he’s found solace in a possible companion, and it turns out Father has only cursed him yet again with a half-mad fire creature.

“Poor angel,” Zayn says sadly, still petting at him, but further down, where the feathers are still white instead of black or faded brown. “You are born of the light, but your light is fading here.”

Liam looks back at him, surprised but still resigned. He may not be all there, but at least he isn’t as dim-witted as Liam had worried he might be.

But then he dashes even that hope, saying, “That must be why Father sent you to me.”

“He didn’t send me to you,” Liam retorts. “He sent me here as punishment, and I only happened to run into you.” He’s annoyed that he even has to explain any of this, but the slow-witted ifrit just doesn’t seem to get it.

Zayn smiles, shaking his head at Liam. “Funny little angel. You were born directly in Father’s light but you still don’t understand Him at all, do you?”

Liam’s mouth drops open. How dare this daft creature insult him in such a way!

“Come,” Zayn simply says, suddenly standing and sticking out his hand for Liam to take.

Liam staunchly refuses, shaking his head and staying seated. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Come,” Zayn repeats, more insistently, flexing his outstretched hand a bit for emphasis.

“No.”

“Would you rather take your chances alone with a full pack of those?” Zayn juts his head toward the now-bare carcass of the animal they ate. Liam blows out a breath through his nose, frustrated. He supposes Zayn has a point. He’d been lucky enough to avoid any dangerous encounters during his time in the forest. But if he lets Zayn leave without him now, he’ll be stuck here all alone in an area he’s guessing those animals are more likely to frequent, and with none of his angelic weapons—they’d been revoked upon his banishment—to defend himself with. He has no desire to die that way. He may have welcomed the idea of death before, with Zayn, but at least that would have been a warrior’s death. Not so with a pack of wild beasts.

Reluctantly, he stands, taking Zayn’s hand and they start to walk...

[Read the rest on AO3 here]

[cassiopeiassky]

When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) Part 52

You guys are the absolute best, most patient readers ever.  Thank you so, so, so much for waiting on this, and like every other slow update over the past year and a half that my life has been a raging dumpster fire.  I love you all.  

Also I am a needy carrot that needs love and affirmation please send love and affirmation

Plot:  When you inadvertently become a witness to a murder and are suddenly a target for death, it takes a specially skilled soldier and his team to keep you and your family safe.

This will eventually be a is a reader x Bucky fic. The reader, by the way, is a civilian. No super powers, no fighting skills, and by no means perfect.  

Word count: 2431

Warnings:

For the entire work:  Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst.  This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut.  If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: Tooth rotting domestic fluff, some angst if you squint.  PTSD mentions/symptom descriptions.

***I do not own any of the lyrics/music in this story, so please don’t sue me for using them***

Tags moved to the end.

WEMtbB Masterlist

Previously on WEMtbB:

Bucky joins you in the bathroom a few minutes later with a pile of clothes for you both.  “Take as long as you need, Sweetheart,” he presses a kiss to the back of your neck as he wraps his arms around you.  “Just keep in mind that every time your stomach growls, I’m gonna think you’re ready to pass out.  You’ve had IV fluids but haven’t eaten since we were on the jet.”

You smile at his reflection in the mirror as you lean into him, intensely grateful for how much he cares for you and for getting back these little moments with him.   “I won’t take too long, I promise.  I just want to get comfortable.”

Eyes soft, he nods.

You both exhale.

Fingers entwined, Bucky leads you out of the bedroom exactly 18 minutes later.  The gently lit hall leads to an elevator and one other door.

“There are two of us to a floor,” Bucky murmurs into the quiet as he gestures with a nod, “That’s Steve’s room.”  He pushes a button and the doors silently slide open.  “The kitchen and common area are a few floors down.”

You follow him into the elevator, doing your best to ignore the feeling of claustrophobia that sneaks up on you.  This is new; tight spaces were never a problem for you before.  Goddamn it.  You suppose you should get used to it, at least for now.  “Where are we exactly?”  They’d mentioned it earlier, but you can’t remember all the details.

His gaze cuts to you but he doesn’t say anything about the sudden tightness in your voice.  “Upstate New York, just off the Hudson.”  When you nod without replying, Bucky pulls you into a tight hug and firmly rubs your back.  “You’re safe here, Sweetheart.  I promise.  We moved you here because it’s quieter than the tower and there are a lot less people. No one here can or will hurt you.”

You nod into his soft t-shirt and breathe.  Of course you’re safe here.  Goddamn PTSD. The elevator door opens and the ominous feeling disappears.  Mostly. “Whew, that sucked,” you mutter as you pull away.  

Bucky nods with a half-hearted smile.  He understands.  “It’ll get better, Sweetheart.”  He wraps his arm around your waist and leads you forward into another hall.  “The kitchen is just around the corner.  If you want I can make you something while you rest on one of the chairs,” he gestures to the breakfast bar as you enter the area.

“Um,” your eyes dart around the room, taking in the generous space, “would it be okay if I did the cooking? I just, I kinda –“

“Yeah.  Yeah, of course.  Just make sure you take a break if your leg starts to bother you.”  

It was the answer you’d expected, but now you feel like you don’t know what to do or even where to start. Oh for fuck’s sake, you know how to cook, you chastise yourself.  “Can…are there certain things I can use?  Or –“

“You are free to use whatever you’d like, Miss Kiddo,” FRIDAY suddenly offers.  “The pantries were freshly stocked in anticipation of your arrival, and Mr. Stark has asked me to inform you that you are to make yourself at home.  In fact, the kitchen has been rearranged to match your home as closely as possible, so you should be able to find what you need without too much hassle.”

The gently accented voice startles you and you struggle to digest the unexpected information.  “Miss Kiddo?” you blurt as Bucky ducks his head to hide a smile.

“Isn’t that your name?” It’s almost comical how the AI sounds confused.

“Kiddo - it’s what Stark calls you,” Bucky gently reminds you with a soft chuckle.  “You’re free to correct her, if you’d like.”  

Your mouth opens, closes, and opens again before you finally answer.  “Well, yes.  Yes he does.” It’s strangely comforting to hear, and after what you just went through it’s exhilarating that you have a choice in the matter.  “Yeah, FRIDAY, that’s fine.”

It’s silent again as Bucky waits on you to start moving…and then your stomach growls again. Right.  Food.

Finally stepping into action, you open the fridge to see what’s available and then quickly assess the pantry.  Damn – it’s like an entire grocery store is at your fingertips.  Okay, so you can make pretty much whatever you want, but you haven’t had chance to make such a simple decision in so long that it’s a little overwhelming; you have to make a conscious effort to slow your racing thoughts. It’s just food, you remind yourself, and you can have whatever you want.  So, what do you want?  Something simple and quick.  Absolutely no potatoes.  Your stomach growls again, protesting at still being empty.  You definitely want something satisfying.

Mind finally made up, you set some water to boil in a large, deep frying pan as you pull out some pasta, butter, cream, garlic, a few seasonings, and a package of chicken breasts that looks like it’s already been grilled.  

“You can thank Barton for that,” Bucky chuckles from the breakfast bar as he watches you, chin in hand. “He offered to make supper for the team after a mission, and everyone got food poisoning because he was in a hurry and undercooked the chicken.  Stark has made a point of having ready to eat protein available since then.  If you want, there’s usually fresh stuff on the shelf below, toward the back.”

“No,” you murmur, “this is fine.”  It’s more than fine – grilled chicken would be ideal for your pan alfredo, and as happy as you are to be in a kitchen again, you’re also grateful for the shortcut.

Your mind quiets as you settle into a rhythm.  Salt the boiling water and add the pasta.  Cut the chicken into strips, set aside to mince the garlic.  Grate the cheese.  Drain the pasta into a strainer and return the pan to the stove.  Throw in some butter and sauté the garlic, then toss in the chicken and pasta.  Add a few generous splashes of cream followed by the parmesan.  Just a few turns with the pepper grinder, a few sprinkles of parsley, toss everything together until the cheese is melted and…done.

Damn that felt good.

When you turn around you see that Bucky has set out two plates at the breakfast bar, a loaf of crusty French bread, and olive oil along with a jar of dried spices for the oil.  “You’re perfect, you know that?” you smile as you dish out the alfredo.  You feel relaxed.  Peaceful.

He shakes his head with a soft smile as you finally take the seat next to him.  “Nah, but I love that you think so.”

Sitting as close as possible, the two of you eat in silence.  The familiarity wraps you in warmth and although it takes a few minutes, you recognize the feeling as contentment.  Yes. This is good.  

A yawn creeps up on you. “Hey, what time is it, Love?”

He finishes chewing before answering.  “A little after one a.m.”

Ugh.  It feels later…or maybe earlier?  You don’t know.  Jetlag, surgery, and a massively fucked up sleep schedule before that is making you feel like time is just an illusion.  Then again, maybe that’s the exhaustion.  “So dishes and back to bed?”

Bucky plants a kiss on your forehead as he stands.  “I’ll get the dishes later, Doll.  But first, dessert if you have room.”

“Bucky, I feel like a bottomless pit right now,” you admit as you ruefully eyeball your empty plate. You thought you’d made more than enough pasta, but Bucky clearly has his appetite back and you feel like your body is trying to make up for lost time.

He doesn’t bother with plates as he slides a pie onto the counter and cuts into it with his fork.  Not wasting any time, you do the same.  “God, I love you.”

His fork pauses midair as he watches you from across the counter.  “Are you talking to me or the pie?”

“Yes,” you manage around a mouthful of flakey, buttery crust and perfectly baked apples.  When he nods and chuckles, you take another bite with an appreciative hum.  It’s not just that it tastes good – it’s delicious and is clearly from a bakery that knows what they’re doing – it also brings an immeasurable amount of comfort. The filling tastes like your mom’s; if you had to guess you’d say that these are probably Haralson apples like the ones she grows in her back yard.  The best pie apples in your humble opinion.  The sweet-tart bite that hits the back of your cheeks brings you back to the crisp October days of your childhood and you can almost feel the golden autumn sun and smell the fallen leaves.   That’s where the resemblance ends, though.  She can’t make a decent homemade pie crust to save her life.

You can’t believe how much you miss her, but you’ll get to talk with her in a few hours.  And your babies.  Finally.

“Hey, I have a question for you.”  Bucky has stopped eating and is watching you intently.

“Okay.”  You nod for him to continue as you take another bite – just because he stopped doesn’t mean you want to.

He looks down, hooks his hair behind his ears, then stands up straight.  If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was nervous.

“Well…”

Scratch that.  He is nervous.  That makes you nervous and sets you on edge, so you put down your fork and hold your breath.  “Buck, what is it?”

Bucky takes a deep breath, but can’t shake the hesitancy in his voice, “Well, I know we have a lot going on, and I know that our relationship hasn’t exactly been conventional.”

“Okay…”  The food you just ate starts to feel like a lead ball in the pit of your stomach as contentment gives way to concern and your insecurities rear their ugly heads.

He’s quiet for what feels like forever before he blurting out, “Can…can I start courting you?  Take you out on real dates, like a normal guy would do for a girl he’s sweet on?  I know it’s kinda backwards and all but I really wanna do right by you.”

Well, that wasn’t at all what you were expecting.  Taken by surprise, you blink before you answer, “Yeah.  I’d like that.”  You both give each other dopey smiles as you continue, “I’d like that a lot.”

He takes both of your hands in his as his grin fades to earnestness.  “I want you to know I’m serious about you.  About us.  That I meant everything I said at the safehouse, and since I got you back – every damn word.  But I also know that we’ve been through a lot and things might get tough, so I thought that dating – real dates – might help with the transition.”

Nodding, you continue what you now understand to be his train of thought.  “You and I – we are incredibly fucked up right now.  Like, massively, absurdly, almost can’t believe our brains even function levels of fucked up.  And it would be incredibly naïve for us to just assume that we could fly back home in a week or two and just go back to the way things were. It’s not going to be that simple.” You hesitate as an uneasy thought occurs to you.  “You are coming home with me, right?  You don’t have any, um, avenging to do?”

His nod immediately puts you at ease.  “Yeah, Sweetheart – as long as you’ll have me, my place is with you.  You are – we are – my priority.  I’m taking an extended leave of absence from work so I can put my entire focus on us and getting better.”

You had hoped you would have some time with him, but you also realize that he does have a job, even if that job is nothing short of extraordinary.   “Really?”

“Really.  And Sweetheart, it might not be simple, but it’s not gonna be impossible, either.  Maybe just a little complicated for a while till we get our heads sorted out. Being with you has been the easiest thing I’ve done in my life.”

You can’t help but nod along with his words – it’s the truth.  And in realizing that, a small piece of your broken psyche glues itself back together.  

“So…” Bucky is almost bashful as he releases one of your hands to take another forkful of pie, “I know it doesn’t give you much time, but what do you say to dinner and a show tomorrow night?”

It makes no sense at all that you have butterflies in your stomach, but you do.  “I’d really like that.”

Bucky exhales as if he’s relieved.  “Great! Great.”  He flashes an almost impossibly bright smile.   “I’ll pick you up at 5:00.”

Did you miss something? Aren’t you sharing a room with him? “You’ll what?”  

He winks at you, causing those butterflies to take flight yet again.  “It’s a date, Doll.  I’m gonna give you the space to get ready – I’ll get ready in Steve’s room – and then I’ll pick you up at 5:00.”

“I…okay,” you laugh as you squeeze his hand, loving how light you feel.

“Speaking of getting ready, it it’s alright with you, Nat will come by tomorrow morning and pick you up to take you shopping.”

“Shopping?”

Bucky smiles so broadly his face could split in two, “I’m taking you out on a date tomorrow night. Finally.  This is something I’ve wanted to do for months, and all I could manage was that night at the barn.  But now?  Doll, we’re on my turf, and you’re both safe and free.  I’m going to take you on the first date you deserve, the one I would have taken you on if I had met you under different circumstances.  So,” Bucky lifts your hand to his lips, “you’re gonna need a dress,” he kisses your knuckles, “and whatever else you would want to get ready that you don’t already have here.  I want my girl to have everything she needs or wants to be comfortable.  Besides, if things go the way I expect they will, the way I pray they will, you’re gonna need a drawer of your stuff here anyway so you don’t have to pack as much when we spend time in New York.”

You’d be lying if you said that last sentence didn’t make your heart skip a beat.  “Okay.”  You don’t bother elaborating – he knows that you’re agreeing to more than just a date or shopping.

“Yeah?”  The happiness in his eyes is enough to make your breath catch.

“Yeah.”  You take another bite of pie as you smirk.  “You know, it’s going to be hard to top our first first date.  That was pretty fantastic.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Nope, just a fact. That was seriously the sweetest, most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He smirks, eyes smoldering. “Doll, you’re gonna get the full Bucky Barnes treatment – the barn date was me with one hand tied behind my back. I’m gonna knock your socks off tomorrow.”

Anticipation spikes your blood – somehow, you believe him, but you can’t miss the chance to gently tease, “We’ll see.”

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[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate - chapter 7

Everyone is awful, but @ripperblackstaff prompted: “32: “Burn in hell for all I care!” so it’s really all her fault. 

Please send me a prompt from this list or this list to fuel the angst and smut

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6]  [AO3]

Gold left it until the following afternoon before driving back to Maine. Ella had insisted on spending the rest of the afternoon in the bar, and he was somewhat worse for wear when he woke up the next morning, his head thumping and his mouth as dry as dust. He wondered how Belle was doing, and how she was finding the apartment. Whether she had discovered the little cafe around the corner that did delicious apple tarte tatin. Whether she was as nervous about the test results as he.

By the time he reached Storybrooke, it was dark and cold, the few residents that were out hurrying along the streets with their chins shoved into their scarves. The florist’s shop was closed, and Gold eyed it before driving past. No point in visiting before he knew the test results, he supposed. He wondered if Belle had told Moe he was the father, and what Moe’s reaction had been if so. Certainly Moe hadn’t mentioned it to him when he had asked for Belle’s address, so perhaps Belle had let him think that the father was whoever this boyfriend of hers was. Scared as she was, he supposed he couldn’t blame her for that. Moe French had been angry enough that Gold had been sleeping with his daughter. Somehow he doubted that the news the two of them had made a child would be welcome.

It felt good to get back into his house, the rooms pleasantly warm, and he locked the door behind him, going to the lounge to pour himself a whisky and relax in one of the armchairs as he thought things over. Ella’s words had played over and over in his head since their somewhat drunken conversation in the bar, and after some initial indignant denial he had accepted that she was right. He had been too angry with Belle, both for failing to tell him about the baby and for putting herself and the child in danger, to really consider her perspective. The more he thought about it, though, the more he felt a grudging understanding and the first crawling fingers of guilt sliding over his skin. Perhaps Ella was right. Perhaps she felt cornered and scared, and was lashing out because of it. A sly voice at the back of his mind whispered that he should know what it was like to want to hurt the person trying to get too close, to want to drive them away. He smothered it ruthlessly, and turned his attention to more practical matters. Going to his computer, he prepared to go through the list of possible issues that Ella had sent through for him to consider. No harm in being prepared. Whatever the results were.

He buried himself in work for the next few days, spending his days at the shop, where he concentrated on his restoration of the music box. He had now taken apart the damaged mechanism, each element laid out on the chamois leather ready for cleaning and repair. The project was taking all of his concentration, which was exactly what he wanted, keeping his mind from straying to Belle and the baby. More importantly, it kept him from analysing his own feelings, a hopelessly tangled mess that he had screwed into a ball and shoved to the back of his mind long ago. Dealing with Belle had the effect of rooting through his brain, digging it out and threatening to unravel it. He was determined not to let that happen, and so he worked until he was too tired to keep his eyes open, and fell into bed each night exhausted.

It was halfway through the afternoon of the fifth day when it was confirmed that his life would change, and immeasurably for the better, in his opinion. A chime from his computer indicated that he had received an email, and he set down his tweezers and eyeglass, wiping his hands before going to the laptop. His heart began thumping hard as he saw the sender’s identity, and he glanced up at one of the shelves, where an old plush rabbit in a faded blue waistcoat sat, ears flopping over its black bead eyes. For a moment he was afraid to open the message, and closed his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. Let it be real. Let it be me.

He opened his eyes, his heart still thumping. His hands shook as he reached for the keyboard, and he clicked to open the message. Reading it over once made his heart rate quicken further, and so he read it twice more before sitting back with a sigh. It was true. He was to be a father again.

A smile broke, tears pricking at his eyes, and he pushed to his feet, grasping his cane before pulling on his overcoat and leaving the shop. He walked swiftly, the early spring sun shining down as he strode towards the park, his body humming with nervous energy as he tried to hold back from laughing out loud. A child! He had a child on the way. This one he would not lose. This one he would not fail.

He couldn’t stop grinning, quickening his pace as he began to make plans. A trust fund, for the future. For study, for travel. Medical insurance for Belle herself, to ensure that she got the best care leading up to and following the birth. The apartment, and the preparations they would need to make for the baby’s arrival. There was a lot to be discussed and agreed with Belle, of course, but surely she couldn’t object to the financial provisions he wanted to make. Surely she would want the best for their child, no matter how much it might hurt her pride to take it from him. He shook his head, determined to be everything this child could want in a father. It wouldn’t want for anything, he would make sure of that. And it would know how loved it was, by both its parents.

His phone buzzed, making him stop his pacing abruptly, and he reached into his pocket, fishing the phone out and glancing at the screen. His heart thumped harder as he recognised the number there. Belle. They would have sent her the results too, of course. Okay, try to be civil, you fucking idiot. She’s the mother of your child. Your child. Don’t be a fucking prick, for once in your miserable life.

“Hello?” he said, relieved that he sounded calmer than he felt.

“It’s me,” she said, her tone flat. “I got the results.”

“Right,” he said. “Yes. So did I.”

There was a moment of silence. He was unsure what to say, overwhelmed by the enormity of what she was giving him, of the glimmer of light he could sense breaking through the dark clouds that had lain heavy around his soul for so long. It was blinding. Breathtaking.

“Well?” she said impatiently, and Gold licked his lips, his mouth dry.

“Well what?” he said lamely, and she sighed.

“In news that would be a surprise to no one except apparently you, the test was positive,” she snapped. “So, do I get an apology?”

Gold sucked his teeth, ignoring the crawling sense of guilt flowing up through his body. Why the hell did you accuse her of sleeping around? What the actual everloving fuck is wrong with you?

“I’m waiting,” she said, a sarcastic edge to her voice. “Pretty sure that apology’s coming any time now. I mean we both know how well you deal with the truth when it’s right in bloody front of you, don’t we?”

Her tone made him bristle, and it was as though the clouds had covered the sun once more, a chill creeping over his flesh and numbing his soul. The light that had briefly flared to life inside him flickered and died, disappearing along with his good intentions. It was unfortunate that his natural response to hurt feelings was to be insufferable, but there again he had never claimed to be perfect.

“Fine,” he said, in a bored tone. “I’m really so terribly sorry that I sought a quick, painless and accurate confirmation that I am the father of the child you carry. It would of course have been much better to simply turn my life upside down and go to tremendous expense to provide for the two of you on your word alone, after all.”

There was a moment of silence.

“God, you’re an arsehole.”

“An arsehole who happens to be following the excellent legal advice he’s paying for,” he said, keeping to a lazy drawl. “My lawyer insists on the paternity results before we take any further steps. I’m merely complying with her recommendations.”

“Then why did you suggest I was fucking half of Boston?” she snapped. “Actually, no, don’t answer that, I know why. Because you can’t resist an opportunity to be bloody hurtful.”

That stung, largely because it was true, but he tried to ignore the sharp pain her words caused.

“Are we going to discuss something productive, or do you just want to yell at me again?” he asked mildly. “I apologise for suggesting you might have enjoyed yourself after we broke up. If that’s something to apologise for.”

“Well, thanks for that completely insincere pile of crap,” she said tartly.

“You’re more than welcome.”

Belle huffed, and he rolled his eyes.

“Where are you?” she asked shortly.

“In Storybrooke,” he said. “Where you told me to be. Does that make you feel better?”

“I think we need to have a conversation,” she said. “Face to face, if you can stand it.”

“I agree,” he said coldly.

“So, when can you come to Boston?”

“Wouldn’t you rather come here?” he asked. “A pleasant weekend in Storybrooke? You could visit your father.”

Silence. Gold waited a moment, frowning a little.

“Your father does know about the baby, doesn’t he?” he pressed.

“Of course he does!”

“And you’re not eager to see him? Why is that?”

More silence. His frown deepened, a suspicion taking form in the depths of his brain. One that explained both Belle’s dreadful state when he had first visited, and her unwillingness to accept his help.

“Has he visited you at all since you told him?” he asked. “Has he given you any support? Sent you money, anything?”

“I think you wouldn’t be asking me this if you didn’t already know the answer,” she said stiffly. “If you want to talk about our child, come to Boston. If you want to play mind games, stay in Storybrooke and continue your stupid feud with my dad. At this point I don’t care either way.”

“Belle—”

“I mean it!” she said sharply. “I’m a thousand percent done with your shit! Both of you! Burn in hell for all I care!”

“Belle!”

She hung up with a click, and Gold swore under his breath, shoving the phone back in his pocket and running a hand over his face. So. All that time she hadn’t had a single ounce of help from her father. From the one person who should support her unconditionally. Let’s see what Moe French has to say for himself.

He squared his jaw, turning swiftly on his heel to head towards Game of Thorns, and collided with someone almost immediately. Dr Hopper staggered, clutching at his arm to steady himself and almost losing his tweed cap in the process. He stepped back, tugging it down over his red hair while his Dalmatian, Pongo, watched placidly at his side.

“Excuse me,” muttered Gold, trying to keep from snapping at the man.

“No harm done,” said Dr Hopper, his brow crinkling a little. “Mr Gold, are you - are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said evenly. “Couldn’t be better, I assure you.”

“Oh, that’s - that’s great!” said Dr Hopper earnestly. “Although - if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t look fine.”

Gold raised his head, fixing him with a flat stare.

“Thank you for that diagnosis, Dr Hopper,” he said coldly. “When I’m seeking interference in my personal affairs, I’ll be sure to let you know. Perhaps you’d be good enough to mind your own business in the meantime.”

Dr Hopper simply smiled pleasantly. Whatever it was that he took to remain calm and unruffled in the face of open hostility, Gold wanted to know.

“Well, the offer’s always there,” he said. “If you ever feel the need to talk things through, my door is always open.”

He nodded politely, and set off down the street, umbrella swinging from his hand. Gold glared after him.

“The only time I’ll be knocking on your door is to collect the bloody rent!” he called, and Dr Hopper glanced over his shoulder with a nod and a smile, as though he’d wished him a good afternoon.

Muttering under his breath about exactly where Dr Hopper could shove his office door, Gold stomped off up the street towards the florist’s shop. Moe French was inside, sweeping up dropped leaves and scraps of coloured ribbon, and he scowled at Gold, working the broom a little quicker.

“I’ll bring the rent over later,” he said curtly.

“I won’t be there,” said Gold. “I'll send Mr Dove to collect in my absence. I’m heading to Boston.”

Moe straightened up and grounded the broom, his eyes narrowing.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” said Gold, his voice as menacingly calm as he could make it. “I’m going to see Belle. To lay claim to my child. She's carrying my baby, and it's due in May. Funny that all these months I’ve been collecting rent from you, you never thought to mention it.”

Moe glowered at him.

“So,” he said. “She told you.”

Gold felt his mouth flatten.

“Eventually,” he said. “Frankly I would have preferred to have more than a couple of months to make preparations, but we are where we are. You may be interested to know that I’ve moved her out of the squalid mess of an apartment she was in and into one of my own. I can give you the address.”

“I’ll hear it from her, not you,” said Moe ungraciously.

“Suit yourself,” said Gold. “It’s just that I was under the impression that the two of you aren’t exactly on the best of terms. Why is that?”

“My relationship with my daughter is my business!” snapped Moe. “And I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

“Well, the imminent arrival of our baby makes that impossible,” said Gold dryly.

"Am I supposed to believe you suddenly have an overwhelming need to be a parent?" Moe snorted. "Give me a break!"

It took a lot of effort not to threaten to break every bone in his body, but Gold managed not to snap back at him.

“Believe it or not, I'm not actually here to argue with you," he said. "I'm here because she's alone and scared, and she needs her family. Useless as you are, you're all she's got. So spare me your bluster, I’m really more interested in why you saw fit to abandon her.”

“You’re here to lecture me on how I treated Belle?” scoffed Moe. “You’ve got a bloody nerve!”

Gold showed his teeth, fingers opening and closing on the cane handle.

“Oh, I’m well aware of my failings, Mr French,” he said. “When I broke up with her I made damn sure she wouldn’t want to see me again. With your encouragement, I might add."

"Breaking up with her is the first decent thing you did!"

"Well, you could be right about that," he acknowledged. "However, because of the - manner - of our break up, I suspect that my relationship with Belle will never be anything more than coldly indifferent. But honestly I’m not sure if I’m capable of anything more than that.”

“And that’s what the kid has to look forward to, is it?”

“No,” said Gold evenly. “My child will know it’s wanted, I assure you. By both its parents.”

Moe curled his lip.

“Like hell,” he said. “I know I’m a piss-poor father, but I’m willing to bet I did a better job than you ever would. You were a bastard to Belle and you’ll be just as bad to any of your bloody spawn, I reckon.”

Gold took a step forward, fury welling up inside him. It must have shown in his face, in his eyes, because Moe took a step back, looking wary. Gold clutched at the cane handle, knuckles white with the effort of not cracking him over the head with it.

“Our child will know its father,” he said, through his teeth. “It will never want for anything as long as I live and breathe. If you were anything approaching a decent parent you would understand that, but I suspect Belle got all her most admirable qualities from her mother.”

“Don’t you dare mention my wife!” snapped Moe, eyes bulging. “If she were here, she’d—”

“If she were here, I suspect I wouldn’t have had to pull Belle out of an apartment block that should have been demolished years ago!”

“Oh, so you’re suddenly a white fucking knight, are you?” Moe sneered. “Yeah, that’s about the size of it. You waltz on in with your money and think it can buy you whatever you want, when really you’re the same heartless bastard you’ve always been.”

“Is that any worse than what you can offer?” demanded Gold. “Cutting her off when she needed you the most? You’d rather your own daughter and grandchild suffered because she had the poor bloody judgement to sleep with me?”

“It’s not like I was never gonna speak to her again!” said Moe defensively.

“No, you’d just let her struggle through the trauma of pregnancy and birth and turn up when the child was two or something,” said Gold sarcastically. “Or maybe you’re waiting until that heart attack you’ve been working towards actually hits, so you can guilt her into looking after you.”

Moe seemed to swell with rage, a tide of red sweeping up from his neck.

“Get the fuck out of my shop!” he barked, gesturing to the door. "Go on! I won't have you judging me when you're the one that broke her heart!"

Gold took a step back before he could really lose his temper, and shook his head disgustedly.

“I hoped you might be able to see past your hatred of me and concentrate on what’s best for Belle,” he said. "God knows she needs someone in her life to do that."

“I’m not taking lectures from the likes of you!” snapped Moe. "I'll deal with my daughter in my way, got it?"

Gold sent him a twisted smile.

"Well, in the meantime, I'll just have to do my best to give her what she needs," he said. "Whatever that may be."

“You stay away from her!”

"Make me," said Gold bluntly.

He turned on his heel, stalking towards the door.

“You have no place in her life, don’t you get that?" Moe shouted after him. You’ll never be anything to that kid but the guy who buys McDonalds twice a month!”

Gold slammed the shop door behind him, cutting off Moe’s voice, and took several deep breaths to calm himself before setting off down the street at a brisk pace, his nostrils flaring, skin humming with rage. He shut her out. He had her love, and he shut her out.

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Lessons Learned

Saizo is the last April entry on my 2019 Year of Smut. This is actually a plot bunny I’ve had for a while, though it played out slightly differently (Yukkins spotted the rope burn marks on MC but only assumed it was training, when in reality it was something quite different). I changed it around as a kind of love letter to otome in general, since the further I dive into the fandom, the more I find people gaining confidence in their creativity and sexuality. I also really love the idea of MC as anything but a blushing virgin. 

Saizo x MC | SLBP | Explicit

The candles are flower scented and flicker occasionally in the darkness of the room. Behind the confines of her blindfold, MC can see the amber light and shifts against the floor, moaning as the bright red ropes used to bind her limbs chafe against her skin. Despite the coarseness of the fabric, her wrists rest comfortably underneath her head: her legs spread eagled and a single, fine thread of fabric tightly rubbing against her folds if ever she moves.

A part of her wonders how she got into this. The majority doesn’t care.

One thing is for certain: it began with Yukimura.

Yukimura has always been passionate about training; that much is obvious to anyone. Saying he cares deeply about improving his skills on the battlefield adds as little to everyday conversation as a description of the weather. Even so, MC goes out to the training field every day with snacks and every day is impressed by his boundless enthusiasm. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t push his body to the limit, whether it’s sprinting from one marker to another, lifting heavy weights or both concurrently. He is a force of nature and immeasurably strong...which is exactly why it was so odd to find him tied up and wriggling on the floor.

“And you hold it tight, like this!”

At some point Yukimura had had his wrists bound, all while Saizo leaned over and looped his fingers around the rope.

“Tighter!”

Saizo raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure?”

Yukimura sucked in a single deep breath before nodding, pulling his wrists against his bindings.

Something about it left MC unable to do anything except stare, watching Yukimura drag at the ropes while Saizo grinned impishly behind him.

It was Sasuke who spotted her first, rushing over to help himself to dango and alerting the others in the process. Saizo was only too enthusiastic to whisk a couple of skewers from the plate, leaving Yukimura to sit on his knees and tug at the ropes behind his back..

“What are you doing?”

“We’re…” Yukimura sucked in a deep breath and wriggle. “We’re preparing for hostage situatio-“

In an attempt to free himself, he had stretched his arms around his waist. Unfortunately, he had also completely misjudged his balance and fell over onto his front with the grace of a sack of potatoes.

“Honestly, dear,” Saizo sighed, reaching for his shoulder and lifting him into a kneeling position once again. “Are you even trying?”

“It’s like you’re enjoying this,” Yukimura muttered, only to hiss in discomfort as Saizo tightened the ropes.

MC considered every time she had been stolen away from the Sanada; every strong smelling cloth crushed against her lips and blade held to her throat. Learning how to escape from such situations would be more than useful and her contemplation of the matter must have been written all over her face, for Saizo poked at her shoulder.

“In your own little world, little lady?”

“Ah! Sorry,” she spluttered, “I was just thinking about how helpful it would be to know such things.”

She was being sincere and remained so even as Saizo raised an eyebrow and Yukimura blushed a bright red.

“If that’s what you’re into, little lady, who am I to refuse?”

She was so excited at the prospect of learning a new skill that she thanked him several times, realising how her words might be misunderstood much later. Even so, when he arrived in her room with an armful of ropes and promise to teach her a lesson, she made no attempt to correct him.

And so it is that she sinks her teeth into the gag he fixed around her mouth and grinds her hips, sighing at the ripples of pleasure that she gains as a result. He drags off her blindfold and she stares up into his handsome face, taking in his mischievous grin and careful fingers.

She tries to speak, but settles instead for making incoherent noises against the gag, which seems to please him, for he strokes the very tips of his fingers along each of her toes. He traces them along the inside of her thighs, across her heated core and up along her stomach until he reaches her chin.

He strokes his finger along her jawline and her stomach churns with anticipation. She doesn’t know how he expects her to last for much longer considering he has only touched her in the briefest of fashions and already she’s close.

If she knows anything about him, though, it’s that he always has a plan and tonight is no exception to the rule.

“Tell me, little lady,” he says, reaching for the candle she used to light her room. “Shall we begin?”

He hooks his finger under the gag and looks her straight in the eyes. MC stares right back at him, daring him to continue and slip one finger close enough to her teeth that she might nip at the skin.

Finally, when she’s starting to think he’s never going to move, he tips the candle and allows a drop of hot wax to land on her collarbone. He tips it again, lower, and MC squeezes her eyes shut as it dribbles over the sensitive skin of her nipple.

Each drop of wax shifts her focus away from the ache between her thighs and Saizo’s pace is far from consistent. He cannot regulate the way the candle drips or the wax lands; she recovers from the shock of one, just for another to land mere moments later. Sometimes he leaves her waiting and waiting, only to indulge her with stinging heat when she least expects it.

She loses her awareness of each individual drop of wax, far more conscious of the rising heat of her body than any individual splash. She needs the heat, needs the pain.

Saizo seems to notice, for he sets aside the candle with a smug expression, making a point to look her in the eye before leaning over and blowing it out.

He slips one finger underneath the gag and over her lips, dragging off the fabric in one swift motion.

“Now, tell me,” he says, tossing it to one side and lifting a blade. “What have you learned, little lady?”

He scrapes the knife’s edge against the dried wax on the inside of her thighs and MC gasps at the mixture of sensations.

“Y….” she manages to make out, only to lose herself in the increased sensitivity.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Y-“

“Louder!”.

She wishes she could only reach him and wrap her arms around him. She has tricks of her own, after all. As if in response, he smiles and cuts the rope that keeps her legs in such a restrictive position and she stretches them out in relief, flexing her toes and easing her overstretched muscles. Saizo is on the move too, placing the knife back and lifting a riding crop.

MC has no idea where it came from, only that her mouth grows dry at the very thought of what he plans to do with it. She bites her bottom lip and watches him trail his fingers along it in almost exactly the sort of way she wants him to touch her body. Saizo can make her jealous of even the most mundane things, it seems, from chopsticks at dinner to the clothes he wears. She has no idea how he’s managing to make her jealous of a riding crop, but from the way he smirks at her she’s certain that it’s deliberate.

“Now, tell me,” he says, stretching out the riding crop where she can see. “What have you learned?”

Truthfully, she’s learned a great deal from him ever since they became lovers. She knows more about her own body and his than she might have believed possible, has learned an almost shameful amount of techniques to pleasure herself.

She also knows exactly what to say next.

“Nothing. I’ve learned nothing,” she says, before gasping at the impact of the riding crop hitting the inside of her thighs.

“Are you quite certain of that?”

She laughs and then she hears it; another swish of the riding crop in the air, followed by a thud as it makes contact with her flesh. It leaves a stinging, throbbing sensation in its wake, yet she finds she hungers for more.

He can control the rhythm of the riding crop far better than the candle, which he uses to his advantage, throwing all of his weight forward and letting her believe that he’s about to flog her most severely, just to step back right at the last second and gently trail it across her skin.

“Look at me,” he commands.

She doesn’t know when she closed her eyes, only that when she opens them he’s abandoned the riding crop in favour of his dick, stroking the soft skin and tempting her with its hardness. She bites her lip, wanting it inside her; willing him to bury it deep.

“You’re a terrible student,” he says, shuddering at his own touch. “I don’t think you deserve this.”

MC tugs at the robes that bind her wrists, just to whimper when they hold. She wants to reach out and touch him more than anything; to drag him onto her and have him fuck her senseless, but he ignores every noise she makes.

“I deserve it,” she protests, her voice little more than a sob. “I do, I do!”

He ups his own strokes and makes a noise of approval.

“I might just stand here and make you watch,” he says, smiling at the way she thrashes against the ropes. “That’s what happens to naughty little ladies, after all.”

He lets go of his cock and reaches for the knife again, cutting the ropes that bind her wrists. She sighs in relief as they are released and he sits down beside her, allowing her to run her fingers through his hair and drag him in for a hungry kiss.

He laughs when she pushes him over onto his back, more than capable of countering her and deliberately holding back. He smiles up at her as she holds his wrists to the floor, the same impish grin as when he tormented Yukimura.

“You should know,” he says, “naughty little ladies are the best of all.”

Not so long ago she wouldn’t have believed him, but as it is she is inclined to agree. She agrees as she straddles his waist and loosens his clothes; agrees as she laces her fingers with his by way of an anchor. She definitely agrees with him as she lowers herself onto his dick, sighing in delight at a different sort of stinging heat.

She shifts her weight and takes him in over and over, completely unsure what to do with her hands and making it up as she goes along. She snatches them from his and runs them along her breasts, which bounce from the force and feel so inexplicably good when she clutches them. She tangles her fingers in her hair, gathering it above her shoulders in an attempt to feel even more naked.

Saizo holds onto her, holding onto her hips and egging her on, far more enamoured by the sight of her unraveling than he is the feel of her riding his cock. They both remember the moment he took her virginity; her blushes and apologies at how little she knew of sex. She is different now- greedy in the bedroom and only too eager to chase her pleasures every time their bodies touch. She knows exactly how best to position herself to ride out the build of her release; isn’t embarrassed anymore when it takes her over. She doesn’t shield her face anymore and mutter an apology. Now she embraces it, gripping Saizo’s hands and squeezing her eyes shut as her walls clench so tightly around him that it leaves him gasping too.

Now that her eyes are shut, she can focus on her other senses, from her fluttering stomach to the cold air against her back. She can smell each and every candle, a sweet scent intermingled with their own.

She takes a deep breath, the candlelight almost unbearably bright when she finally opens her eyes again. At some point Saizo reached one of her hands to his lips and runs his lips over her knuckles.

She leans forward, as if to climb up from him, and he releases her hand. She doesn’t get up, though, instead reaching across the room for the ropes he cut from her.

He raises an eyebrow as she turns them over in her hands, looping the rope around one finger and then another, an unreadable expression across her face.

He lifts his wrists without hesitation, crossing them over to make them easier to bind.

“Easy, now.”

His earlier question lies unspoken; little more than an echo at the back of their minds.

What have you learned, little lady?

She replies, not with words, but the snap of a rope.

[patton-croc-agenda]

Claws and Effect Ch.1

A/N: I’ve been planning this fic for a while now, so I’m super excited to share it aHH! Updates might be slow until Coral and Crowns is finished, but I finished this about a week ago and have lost all patience. This chapter is pretty slow, but things will pick up real soon, promise!

Next: Chapter 2

Summary: Becoming the superhero Morality wasn’t exactly Patton’s first choice of career, but he liked to think he’d been handling it well enough- balancing his alter ego and regular day job at his cousin’s cafe. That is, until a familiar face walks into Sanders Delights, and a mysterious new villain appears soon after.

Pairings: Romantic logicality, Platonic Sleepality

Words:  3,703

Warnings: None

Cross his heart and seal it with a pinkie promise, Patton was not falling asleep on the job. No sir, not he! He was just...trying to very slowly blink the dryness out of them.

“Patton?” Patton’s head snapped up and he turned to face Thomas, who was wiping one of the counters with a quirked brow.

“Stay up too late watching Parks and Rec again?” Thomas laughed. Patton laughed along with him, refilling the napkin dispenser.

“You know me, Thomas,” Patton said brightly, feeling the amusement rolling off Thomas in steady, soft waves. Patton hated lying, but he technically didn’t. Lie, that is. Thomas did know him. He just happened to be wrong about Patton’s nightly pastimes. His ribs still ached dully from where an unruly gang member had decided to kick him.

“Sure do, Pat,” Thomas’s gaze flicked up at the sound of the bell above the door jinggling merrily. “Though, I think someone knows you even better.” He gestured towards the man who had just walked in, decked in a leather jacket, messenger bag, and dark sunglasses- an iced coffee dangling losely from one hand.

“REM!” Patton shouted, suddenly very awake. He launched himself over the counter- a shock to Thomas apparently- and threw himself in his arms. Remy chuckled warmly, contentedness, affection, and love bubbling around Patton.

“What’re you doin here, kiddo?” Patton asked, walking over to let himself back behind the counter, inviting Remy along as well. “I doubt it’s more coffee, as you said the aesthetic of Starbucks outranks even the actually good tasting stuff we make at Sanders Delights.”

“Mmmm, yeah, you’re right as always Patty,” Remy took a sip of the coffee he did have, placing it on the counter, “I came for two reasons. The first: I need a job.” Patton blinked, feeling Thomas’s confusion as well.

“Why? What happened with your last job I thought you loved it,” Patton said, worry churning in his gut. Remy offered him a soft chuckle, ruffling his carmel curls.

“I did, kinda. I got fired for ahem,” Remy made air quotes, “‘misusing and tampering with dangerous equipment.’” He scoffed, crossing his arms, “Like, if you didn’t want me using the equipment, then don’t make it so easily accessible. So, yeah, you got a job opening or two?” he turned to Thomas who thought.

“Well, we are always open to hiring family. Wait...why two?” Remy shrugged nonchalantly.

“My buddy Helen quit, a little before I got fired actually. She’s been lookin’ for a job. She’d have most of the same qualifications as me, y’know?” Thomas bit his lip, thinking.

“Well a couple kids won’t be working here much longer since they’re graduating so I suppose...”

“Awesome, thanks TomTom, love ya! I’m stealing my lil bro now though, bye-bye,” Remy, grabbed Patton by the arm and started to drag him away.

“Wh- Remy, I have opening shift starting in ten minutes. You can’t just take the only other person working!” Thomas protested. Patton pulled his arm away with a laugh.

“Yeah, sorry Rem. I’m actually currently employed.”

“Wow, okay, first, I’m wounded. Second: can I at least take you into the back? I need to show you something, like right now. Or I will die. And then you’d lose me. Which would suck, Patton.” Patton giggled, feeling the light teasing bounce across his skin.

“That sounds fine, right Thomathy?” Patton turned to Thomas. He sighed, equally dramatic, and leaned against the wall.

“I suppose I can live without my best barista/cashier for five minutes,” he said, throwing a wink at the two. Patton laughed and Remy saluted, dragging Patton into the back room. It was small and cramped- clearly not meant for being more than a storage room. Despite this fact, a rickety old card table and a couple beanbags were tossed on the floor for employees who wanted a quick break between rushes. Remy threw himself down into one of the beanbags and rifled through his bag.

“So, what is so so important you had to show me right now?” Patton asked, plopping down in the beanbag across from his brother. Remy grinned sharply, excitement and mischief sparking and poking at Patton as Remy pulled out what appeared to be a strip of fabric.

“Tada! It’s a new mask,” Remy tossed it to Patton, who caught it with one hand.

“What’s wrong with my old mask?” Patton asked, looking for eyeholes and finding none. Remy scoffed, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Patty Patt, you got real noticeable eyes. We’re lucky no one has caught a closeup view of you on camera yet. Plus, with this one you can’t skimp out on putting in contacts, and I think that’ll help with your glasses budget” Patton blushed, studying the mask again.

“So...how am I supposed to see out of this?” Patton asked. Smugness danced across his skin as Remy leaned forward, removing Patton’s glasses and tying the mask around his face like a blindfold. Somehow, Patton could still see through (well, see as well as he could without glasses or contacts), with only a slightly dark tint to everything blocking his vision.

“Woah, how did you manage this?” Patton asked, flexing his fingers. Even though the fabric was light, the clarity of what he was seeing was still quite impressive. Remy shrugged, but that smugness was still there.

“Lotsa coffee and a couple late nights. You’re welcome,” Remy pulled a notepad out of his bag and made a few checks, “Only 36 left.”

“Oh no, how will I live when you run out of owed favors,” Patton deadpanned, taking the mask off and shoving it in his apron pocket  while he slid his glasses back on. The prodding teasing was back as Remy slung an arm across Patton’s shoulders.

“You won’t. I’m going to kill you,” Remy pinched Patton in the side, causing him to squeal, “zap zap you’ve been tased.”

“No tasing allowed! Sanders Delights is a safe zone,” Remy playfully smacked his forehead.

“Ah, how could I forget?”

“That’s one extra favor- you’re back to 37.”

“What? Boo!” Remy shoved Patton’s shoulder as they exited the back room. Patton froze, the air around him crackling. His skin began to crawl and itch and prickle and tingle and burn and freeze. He looked up slowly to see the cafe already had a large amount of patrons present.

“There you are!” Thomas said, making a latte, “we got really busy the second you left and- Patton are you alright?” Patton shook his head, attempting to clear the cobweb feeling of emotions clinging at him.

“Y-yeah. Just gimmie a sec,” Patton had to mentally shove away the worry gnawing at him coming from Remy’s direction as he breathed in through his nose. He breathed out slowly, focusing on himself- his ears to be specific. When switching to his enhanced hearing, it always felt like his ears popped. The sound seemed to go from muffled to unbearably loud. The sudden cacophony was almost as bad as the sticking, itching, burning, freezing feeling of emotions all around, but as Patton found a target of focus, the difference was immeasurable.

“Journalism just ain’t working huh?” he let his focus be on a couple of girls on the opposite end of the cafe, the other sounds muffling in comparison.

“Ugh, it’s just so dishonest. I swear if I have to do one more phony story I’m gonna lose it,” the woman stabbed her straw into her drink. Patton closed his eyes and let his hearing slowly trickle back into empathy, trading sounds for emotions. The feeling was much less intense now that he was expecting it. The whole ordeal felt to him like it took an obnoxiously long amount of time, but considering everyone just went along with it, he assumed it was in actuality much closer to thirty seconds.

“Okay, sorry about that!” Patton trotted over to Thomas, who simply shrugged, and kept making his order. He and Patton fell into a steady rhythm for a few minutes before Thomas spoke up again.

“Wanna train your brother? Since we’re hiring him and all that,” Thomas scribbled a name on the cup in his hands while Patton bagged a doughnut- subtly trying and failing to lick the glaze off his fingers without being caught.

“Sure!” he said, turning to Remy and bumping shoulders with him. Remy snickered and menacingly reached his fingers out to brush Patton’s sides. Patton squirmed and stifled his giggles with a half-hearted glare before diving in.

Another few minutes, and the rush had died down notably. Remy seemed to quite easily get the hang of making coffee and bagging pastries, so Patton let him genuinely help out a little with Thomas’s okay. It wasn’t the most thrilling job, but Patton figured if Remy wanted excitement he should’ve cared more about keeping his previous job.

Patton, lost in his thoughts to help fight off the monotony of his job, startled at the bell above the door announcing a new arrival. The cup he’d been holding jumped from his grasp and tumbled onto the floor, rolling away from him. If Patton were the type to swear, he would’ve just then as he got down on his hands and knees to chase after the darned thing.

He was so focused, he hardly heard the customer’s smooth, monotone voice as he ordered from Thomas. Patton paused a second, swearing it was a voice he’d heard before. He shrugged it off, however, because it wasn’t uncommon for people to come in multiple times, even if they weren’t regulars. Patton finally succeeded in retrieving the cup, making a victorious sound in the back of his throat.

“And your name?” Thomas asked.

“Logan,” the man said. Patton jolted up suddenly, slamming his head on the counter and letting out a strangled hiss. He looked up, rubbing the back of his head, and saw Remy pull his shades down a hair.

“Hooooooly sh-” Patton pinched Remy’s leg, making him yelp. “I was gonna say holy, uh, sharks. Yup,” Remy said, popping the p before he took his shades off the rest of the way, green eyes like fire, “Logan Lehrer?”

“That would be correct. Do I know you?” Patton definitely recognized Logan now, as he could sense the strange, muffled buzzing against his skin. Patton never could figure out how his emotions were so dulled down to the point he could hardly pick them up, a factor that had drawn him to the other time and again during high school. He couldn’t dwell on his newfound wonder, however, because Remy was looking down at Patton, a wolfish grin on his face as he slid his sunglasses back up his nose. Patton shook his head wildly.

“Ohhh my God, gurl, you don’t remember?” Patton knew Remy was probably fluttering his lashes as mischief began poking at Patton once more, “I was the annoying one who asked you way too many personal questions that one time you had a project with my brother!” This was the first time Patton was hearing about this and he glared up at his brother from where he was still crouched, vowing revenge and a very lengthy lecture on privacy.

“Oh. Remy,” Patton felt clear annoyance break through the dull buzz, scratching down his arms. He winced, but was glad it wasn’t as extreme as it was when he felt it from other people, “Of course you work here.”

“Nah, I don’t quite yet,” Remy started making Logan’s order, dodging around Patton as he did so, “this is free labor, baby.”

“Right,” Remy set the drink down and put his elbows on the counter, raising his eyebrows. “Speaking of your brother, though, how is Patton?” Patton’s legs were getting tired from being crouched for so long, and Thomas was giving him questioning glances from where he was standing.

“Well,” Remy’s hand landed at the base of Patton’s neck, bunching the fabric of his shirt in a fist, “why not ask him yourself?” Remy yanked up, and for the five seconds before Patton was still blissfully hidden he managed a tiny internal mantra of please don’t still be hot, please don’t still be hot, please don’t still be hot.

Gosh. Darnit.

Logan blinked his warm, golden brown eyes in shock that was like sudden static against Patton’s skin as he adjusted his glasses.The shock melted back, but Patton could hardly care as his internal functions were all screaming abort abort, still hot! Still hot!

“Patton? What were you doing under the counter?” Logan asked. Patton coughed, holding out the styrofoam cup he had been chasing after when Logan first entered.

“Dropped this!”  Good start, good start, Now, play it cool, Sanders, “Soooo. We have the same glasses?” Nailed it.

Logan gave another surprised blink before narrowing his eyes at Patton.

“You would be correct. Odd, did you have those frames back in high school?”

“Uhhhh,” Patton looked to his brother for assistance, who shook his head slightly, “No?” Patton had never hated not being able to feel Logan’s emotions clearly more than he did in that moment, as Logan arched one of his stupid, perfect eyebrows and leaned against the counter.

“You sound unsure. Do you honestly not recall if you’ve bought new frames since then?” Logan asked. Patton opened his mouth then paused. Because he suddenly remembered-

“This is my fifth pair in the last month. I lose track.”

“What? Patton, how do you break five pairs of glasses in a month?”

Don’t say beating up bad guys, don’t say beating up bad guys, don’t say-

“I am just. So, clumsy,” Patton put his palms flat against the counter, staring at it in mild horror. Remy sympathetically patted his back and slurped the last of his coffee loudly.

Patton was saved from further embarrassment when the bell rang again and Remy let out a loud gasp, soft, featheriness coming from him as he darted around Patton and threw himself into the arms of the man who just walked in. Said man looked extremely done despite having only just arrived as he curled his arms around Remy, who planted a loud, obnoxious kiss on his cheek.

“Hey Ethey-pooh,” it was slightly mocking, but fond. The man rolled his eyes.

“I despise you.”

“Love you too! Come to see me at work? You’re the bestest,” Remy climbed out of his boyfriend’s arms, and Patton watched him warily. Ethan Serpent was a notorious liar, and known to occasionally swipe small objects. Patton didn’t really like him (which was saying something- he liked everyone), but he made Remy happy, so he kept his complaints to a minimum.

Ethan lounged against the counter, ignoring everyone as Patton focused his gaze back on Logan. He was looking above Patton’s head, brows furrowed. Patton turned to see Logan was watching the television they kept above the counter for people to watch if they wanted. The audio was off, but subtitles were on. A reporter (Patton thought it might be one of the women he saw earlier, actually) was shown, her lips moving slightly off from the words at the bottom of the screen.

“In recent news, the hero dubbed Morality has recently aided in taking down the gang the…” the woman squinted “babbling baboons? Police and Scientists still marvel at the strength, speed, and abilities of flight this superhero displays.”

“Fascinating,” Logan breathed, another precious emotion breaking through the cloud and washing across Patton. Wonder, pure and clean. Patton was probably sweating, so he ducked his head and scrubbed a little more aggressively than necessary at the counter.

“Oh. Him. That’s no big deal,” Patton let out a hysterical little laugh, “guy showed up a few months ago and beat up some criminal who was trying to rob a couple. It just so happened the boyfriend of the lady he assaulted was a vlogger or something so, uh. Yeah. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him yet.”

“Oh, I moved out of state for college. I only came back because a job offer was given to me about a month or so ago, and the local news has not exactly been my top priority.”

“Nor social interaction, if you haven’t heard any gossip about Mr. Morality,” Remy called from where he was running his hands across the chest of Ethan’s yellow sweater.

“Stop having eye sex in my cafe,” Thomas said, carrying a sack of sugar out from the back. Remy pouted, folding his arms and scrunching his nose.

“So. A real life superhero, huh? I wonder how his powers came to be. Also, where did he get the costume? And why is it cat themed- that seems rather silly.”

“Hey! That costume is awesome, excuse you,” Remy said, leaning against Ethan, who looped an arm across his shoulders.

“You have excellent tastes,” Ethan informed Logan. Remy beamed.

“See? Ethan agrees with me,” Remy curled a hand around the back of his neck and tilted his head down to kiss him.

“You two are repulsive,” Logan deadpanned, turning back to Patton. Remy huffed.

“You won’t be saying that when you get a boyfriend, Logan,” Remy said. Logan ignored him.

“Well, I best be off then. It was a pleasure to see you again, Patton. Can not say the same for your brother.” Patton laughed, and, in a moment of impulsiveness Patton was quite well known for, he stopped Logan from leaving by reaching over the counter and hooking onto his arm.

“W-wait!” Logan turned, and Patton turned pick as he raised one of his stupid perfect eyebrows again. “I, uh, want my phone number?” Logan blinked, a softness growing around the edges of his emotional buzz.

“I would not be opposed to that.” Patton scribbled his number on Logan’s coffee cup, handing him a small bag with a doughnut in it.

“For luck, y’know?” Logan’s smile was soft.

“Thank you, Patton.”

~~~

Patton really, really needed to lay off the sweets. He grunted as he struggled to yank on one of his boots. One would think running around 6 out of 7 nights a week would help him lose weight, but apparently not.

He really hated how thick his calves were, especially now. He didn’t want to wear his crocs either, because he was pretty sure they would fall off if he needed to fly at all. Along with that, Remy had informed him he was probably one of the last people on earth who wore them because they were a, quote, “fashion disaster”. Plus, his pair had cute little jibbitz that looked like cookies, cats, dogs, and rainbows, so someone would probably find it suspicious if the renowned hero Morality had the same crocs as the culinary arts major who worked at the little cafe in the heart of the city.

Grunting, Patton finally managed to get the dumb thing on, only to realize he had yet to put on the other one. He sighed, wedging his foot into it after much trial and error. He stood up, walking in small circles to adjust, before heading over to the mirror in front of his door. He ran a hand through his curls, trying to tame them somewhat before he pulled up his hood. He couldn’t suppress a giggle as he fiddled with the ears on the top. Of all the costume designs to get stuck as his brand, Patton was glad it was the cat. He tied on his mask, looking at himself one last time. Remy was right, he looked way different when his eyes weren’t visible.

Taking a deep breath, he turned and walked to the window, slowly opening it and looking around. No one in sight. Good. Patton pulled himself up onto the window sill, nearly purring as the wind whipped around his face, making his cape flap around him. He leapt into the air, feeling his flight take effect as he floated up and landed lightly on top of one of the buildings.

Patton stared out across the city. There was something about being a hero that Patton loved, even when he wasn’t helping people in the moment. Just the rush of knowing what was to come. It made Patton feel just a little bit braver.

With a grin, Patton thundered across the roof and leapt into the air. His stomach dropped, and it felt like the world was going in slow motion even as his heart rate increased. Then, the moment was over as his feet made contact with the top of the next building. Call him an adrenaline junkie, but there were worse things to get high on.

He landed in a crouch after a couple more rooftops, taking a moment to catch his breath. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he stood up straight to wipe it off. He looked up, seeing the tallest building in town a little ways ahead. Patton flew up towards it, landing on the top and gripping the lightning rod, hanging over the edge and scanning the town. This was his favorite place to perch and look for trouble, as it gave him a great overhead view. Patton did wish one of his powers was super vision, but he guessed his ears would have to do.

Patton let his super hearing take over, scanning across town. A group of teenagers here, a few drunk guys there (he’d keep an ear on them), but nothing terribly out of the ordinary. Patton sometimes wished there was more interesting stuff happening, but he would immediately scold himself and remind himself that boring was good. Boring meant no one was getting hurt.

Patton was just about to give up and start just doing his regular patrol, when there was an explosion from the outskirts of the city. He jolted, the sound rattled around in his skull, making his head throb painfully. He couldn’t even tell if it had really been loud, or if his super hearing just made it seem that way. Maybe both? Either way it was still more excitement then he’d seen in months.

Despite the guilt and worry gnawing at his heart, he couldn’t help the tiniest smile from curling on his lips.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

General Writing Taglist:  @angeliclogan @pattons-constellations@amuthefunperson@tatergator27@honeycoloredcorduroy@1esor2 @that-royal-ravenclaw@sardonicsanders@iridescentroyalty@sheeparecutest @pathos-logical @virge-of-a-breakdown@doodlesxkiwi @hungry-red-panda

[darisu-chan]

A Lifetime By Your Side

Another one-shot to join my alternate timeline. I’ll put the links in order here for your enjoyment. (the beginning of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and the epilogue of 11)

Hope you like it!

You can also read it here.

Prompt: it’s just ten years, but it’s such a long time 

Summary: As the anniversary of the day they met arrives, Ichigo and Rukia discuss the past and the future.

Rukia woke up early that morning. It wasn’t unusual. She did wake up early almost every day, but that day it felt different than ordinary. She looked down at her bed and found her husband fast asleep. Her husband. Those words made her feel butterflies whenever she thought about them. Although they had only been married for over a week, the knowledge that she was actually married to Ichigo hadn’t quite set in. It felt honestly like a dream come true. A smile formed on her face as she gently brushed his spiky hair back. The orange tresses were softer than they appeared. In his sleep, Ichigo didn’t frown. He was relaxed and he smiled when he felt Rukia’s touch. She grinned and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Wake up.” She whispered in his ear. Ichigo grumbled but didn’t wake up. She kissed his neck then, sucking a bit for added effect. A moan escaped his lips and she smirked. “Wake up.” She said again, louder this time. He shifted in his sleep and suddenly brown, warm eyes were staring at her.

“Hey.” Ichigo mumbled, voice gruff from the sleep.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Rukia greeted him.

He suddenly grabbed her and nuzzled his head in the crook of her neck. “Now’s a good morning.”

She giggled and pecked his lips, causing his smile to widen. “It is.”

“How are you awake after last night?” He wondered and the question caused Rukia to blush. They were currently in their room, the white sheets barely covering their naked bodies. Last night, and every night since their wedding for that matter, had been fantastic in more ways than one. She really shouldn’t be ashamed. It had happened before, even when they weren’t married, but she felt embarrassed to admit out loud she loved being like this with Ichigo.

“I felt different.” She said, shrugging.

“Different? How? You’re not getting sick on me?” Ichigo asked, sitting down, the sheet falling from his body to reveal his well-toned chest. She bit her lip, action that didn’t go unnoticed for he smirked. “Like what you see?”

“Shut up.” Rukia slapped his chest. “I just feel as if we’re forgetting something.”

“What could we possibly forget?” He asked, playing with her long hair.

“Say, what day is it?” She countered, trying to think if they had a meeting of some sort. Surely not. They had been given a leave for two weeks for their honeymoon. Ichigo thought about it for a minute and then said the day. Both gasped and looked at each other. “You mean today is…?”

“The day we met.” He finished for her.

Memories rushed to both of them.

Ichigo’s old room in Karakura Town.

The Hollow.

Sode No Shirayuki impaling his chest.

Ichigo’s first transformation as a Shinigami.

How their story had begun.

“So it’s been now, what? Ten years?” Ichigo asked out loud.

“Seems like it.”

“It’s funny. It feels as if I’ve known you for a lifetime.” He admitted.

Rukia raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” It sounded as if he was calling her a handful.

“It’s just all of our adventures didn’t actually expand for a long time, but, in reality, it felt as if we had been together forever.” He started explaining. “The first time, you and I were partners for roughly two months before…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“Before nii-sama and Renji took me back to the Soul Society. Yes, I remember.” She answered, smiling reassuringly at him to express she wasn’t sad at remembering those memories. They were painful. Very. But they had led her to where she was now.

“Back then, I knew you were worth risking everything.” Ichigo said sincerely, taking her hand in his. “But I didn’t know exactly why. And I didn’t know for a long time until you went away the second time.”

They both recalled those seventeen months. They had changed in many different ways, but their bond had remained as strong if not stronger than before.

“I visited you during those months.” Rukia confessed. “Did I ever tell you about that?”

“Not in detail.” He answered. He had never brought it up and she had only mentioned it in passing during the six years they had been on a relationship. “When exactly did you come?”

“Only a few times. A couple of days… on your birthday.”

Ichigo visibly winced. “You saw that?” He whispered, voice raw.

Rukia turned her body and wrapped her arms firmly around him too. His arms embraced her as well and both remained in that position for some time. “I was a mess too, you know?” She said, looking into his eyes. “I wanted to hug you like I’m doing now.”

He nodded and then hummed. “That’s what I’m saying. We had known each other for just a few months and we were both in despair.”

“Remember what you told me before? That maybe we met in another lifetime?” She said, putting her head on his shoulder. Ichigo nodded. “What if it was true?”

He seemed to ponder it for a few minutes and then he shrugged. “It might be. But I’m beginning to think it’s more about our personalities. We complement each other.”

“We are a good team.”

“And we lived through similar experiences and we have similar personalities. Maybe it has to do with that.”

“Or that we changed each other’s worlds.”

“That too.”

They stayed silent, just enjoying being this close to one another. Rukia thought about everything they had lived through together. She thought about those early days, living in Ichigo’s closet. She thought about learning more about Ichigo day by day until she really couldn’t imagine a time when they hadn’t known each other. Then, she returned to Soul Society. She recalled the guilt for having dragged him to her world. It became stronger when he came to save her. But, deep down, Rukia had felt immeasurable happiness of knowing she meant as much to Ichigo as he meant to her. Then he had rescued her, and in that moment she had become aware that there was no going back. She thought about their other adventures. About hollows, the Arrancar, Hueco Mundo, Aizen. Then, their bittersweet goodbye just after winning the war. She reminisced their months apart. Her promotion to lieutenant. Cutting her hair short. Visiting Ichigo in Karakura. Urahara’s plan to give him his powers back. The hilt of the sword in her hands as she returned to him that which he had wanted most. Their new hello. Then, it was yet another war. The emotional and physical wounds they had sustained. The last battle. The fear of Ychwach coming back even if Ishida had assured them he wouldn’t. Her failed relationship with Renji, driven by the fear of having feelings towards someone she thought was out of her reach. Ichigo’s confession right before her wedding. The decision to not marry Renji. Going to Karakura with Ichigo for a month. Their developing relationship until he moved to the Soul Society. Six years of bickering and kisses and misunderstandings and more love than Rukia thought it was possible to ever feel. Late night conversations. Training together. Working on paperwork until the sun set. Dinner with nii-sama. Travels to Karakura. The beach. Restless weeks as he went to Hueco Mundo and she stayed behind. More hollows to purify. New trainees to look for and train. Holding hands. Kisses stolen here and there. Making love, while covered in the darkness of the night. A heartfelt proposal. Their wedding.

Ten years weren’t long for someone like Rukia, who had been around for over a century. And she had lived. She had lived many experiences, some great others bad. There had been times when she hadn’t thought about the future. There had been others when she had wondered if there was a future to look forward to. But they couldn’t compare to everything she had shared with Ichigo. There had been blood and tears but there had been more smiles and more comfort than she had ever known before. Because Ichigo made her want to live every day to the fullest, even if he wasn’t right next to her. Because of his will, she had been given the life she had always wanted. A relationship with her brother. Friends who cared about her. A place in her squad. Rukia would have been content with knowing she had met Ichigo even if they hadn’t gotten together at the end. But having the knowledge she would get more love than ever in her life given so freely, with no attachments and without asking, make her realize she had chosen well. Being merely satisfied just wasn’t enough. Being completely happy was what she had always strived for. Nothing else could compare to what Ichigo made her feel, made her experience. He was often grateful to her for showing him the world of the Shinigami, the world he truly belonged in. But Rukia felt so much grateful for finally meeting someone who believed in her, no questions asked.

It did feel like a lifetime, because every day with Ichigo was better than the last.

And there was even more to come.

“Thank you.” Rukia suddenly said.

“What for?” He asked, clearly surprised.

“For everything.” She said meaningfully.

“That’s my line.” Ichigo smiled before kissing her deeply, passionately, the way he always was.

“Our future will be even brighter.” He said, breaking the kiss.

Rukia smiled and pulled him closer.

They both were meant for great things. They were so many yet to come. But the greatest thing in their lives had been the chance they had had to meet all those ten years ago.

[bisexualpirateheart]

Thomas/Silver or Thomas&Silver: 373. “You make me feel like I’m not good enough.” :)

Alright, finally, I am done with this! Sorry it took so long. This fit really nicely for my Anchor!verse, so have some Thomas/Silver feels (with some Silverflinthomas at the end because obviously ot3). Thanks for the prompt!

                   You Were The Light That Is Blinding Me

They’ve been in France for one month. It’s early days Silver knows, but Flint and he are still treading careful ground with each other. They pass each other during the day and meet like desperate ships in the night, destined for collision and breaking apart afterward with fresh wreckage splintering between them.

He bears the marks of Flint’s passion on his body during the days, takes Flint’s hands and presses them afresh into his skin in bed, and then on the nights when he’s alone, Silver skims his hand over them, letting his thoughts roam where they may.

This acknowledgment of their desire for each other is still so new, it takes his breath away.

…and then there’s Thomas.

Silver doesn’t know what to do, how to make things better with Thomas.

Ever since they arrived in France and James and Silver first began, truly began, what had been started oh so long ago, Thomas has retreated behind a curtain of polite courtesy. He’s civil but there’s not that explicit warmth that Silver had been so drawn to when he first arrived.

He wants…he doesn’t know what he wants from Thomas. No, that’s a lie, he does. Silver knows precisely what he wants. He’s just not sure whether Thomas wants it too. It seems too fortuitous a thing to have both Flint and Thomas within his grasp. No man could be that lucky, even John Silver who’s carried luck with him most of his days.

The days pass slowly. They are watchful of the space around them, still aware of the dangers behind them.

Thomas has secured a teaching position in the village, or rather he had ascertained there is no school within the village and simply started one.

There’s a nearby vineyard and Flint gets a job there. He’s gone for most of the day and returns in the late afternoon, smelling pleasantly of earth and vines and contentedly weary.

It falls to Silver to keep the house and he does, cooking and restlessly watching the windows, waiting for Flint and Thomas to return, watching for other people as well.

France was not his idea after all, and he’s still wary of those windows for personal reasons, even though he’s not shared those reasons with either Flint or Thomas. They thought France was safe, and for them it is. Silver will not be the one to take that away from them. He’ll simply keep watch, and if the past he’s left behind, rises up to meet him once more, then he’ll deal with that when it comes.

                                                           * * *

In the meantime there is Thomas, and no matter what Silver feels for Thomas these days, he also still feels like he’s not measuring up to Thomas or his expectations or his anything. Silver cooks adequately enough these days, though it’s not up to the fare Thomas has been used to in London, of course. Silver also knows that Thomas’s time at the plantation have left him uncaring of what the food on the table is, as long as there is food. They don’t talk much of that time either. There are so many pauses in the silences between them, Thomas thinking of something and withdrawing. Silver recognizes the need for silence then. Thomas will speak of it when he’s ready to, and if he’s not ready to, he won’t.

Their meals are quiet affairs with Flint clearly torn between what to say between them. Silver mostly focuses on his plate. The conversation is sparse and often every mouthful is agonizing.

Afterwards, most evenings Thomas and Flint read together and Silver sits by the fire, watching them, listening, his hands curled on his lap. It’s peaceful and he enjoys it, no matter how much he wishes he were invited closer.

The light of the fire falls gently upon his boot and he leans his head to one side, watching, out of the slant of his gaze, the way Flint is watching Thomas read, his lips framing the words with simple pleasure.

It would be paradise, if it didn’t ache so much. He’s here: he’s not here. Is he part of them, is he apart? He wants Flint; he has Flint at times but the gulf is still immeasurable. And then there is Thomas still.

                                                            * * *

During the day their books remain in a chest in the bedroom, with Thomas returning them there safely after every night’s reading. The key to the chest is kept in the desk in the front room. The desk is not locked.

Silver’s not as well-read as Thomas or James either, though he takes pains to try. He enjoys reading immensely, but when he was younger there was little opportunity. The only reason he had learned to read was because knowledge was another weapon you could use to protect yourself and no one could steal that from you. The skill to read had been infinitely useful throughout Silver’s life and now, when he is alone in the cottage, he slips the key from the drawer and opens the chest.

He reads while Thomas is out teaching, taking care to replace the books before he returns home, so that no one else knows of his endeavors. Neither of them had said he wasn’t to read the books; Silver simply thinks this is safer.

And then one afternoon comes when Silver’s too absorbed in the words on the page and doesn’t hear the tread upon the doorstep until it’s too late.

“What are you doing?” Thomas’s voice is sharp to his ears and Silver jumps, clutching the book in his hands. He swallows, knowing he’s been trespassing into Thomas’s belongings, the way he’s trespassed into Thomas’s life. As much as he likes to believe there’s always a way out, in this situation he’s not so sure.

“I…was going to put it back.” He offers it apologetically. He rises to his feet, uncertain of whether to simply do that now, or give it to Thomas or what. His hands are reluctant to surrender the book.

“You’ve been reading my books without my permission.” Thomas looks at him oddly, looking at the book clasped in Silver’s hands.

“Yes.” Silver admits.

“Why?” Thomas asks bluntly.

“Why?” Surely he doesn’t have to answer that, surely Thomas knows, how he feels around him, like he’ll never fucking measure up. How does he not know that without Silver having to say the words aloud?

“Because you make me feel like I’m not good enough.”

Thomas stares at him. “What?”

“I know that James loves you, that we are not the same as you and he but…” Silver shudders helplessly. He’s tried so hard to mold himself into something that fits here, something that belongs with them, and he’s exhausted. “I want the best for him and I want to keep him safe. I love him too, even if you don’t want to see it.”

Thomas is still just staring at him and Silver hears the words he’s just spoken sinking in. Shit. What has he just admitted to? Love? Shit. His heart sinks.

“I meant…” Thomas says slowly. “Why didn’t you simply ask? I would have gladly loaned you the books. Any book.” He hesitated. “I haven’t wanted to intrude on you and James, because I know how difficult things have been between the two of you since you’ve reunited.”

It’s Silver’s turn to stare incredulously. “What?” He knew that the tension between him and James had been noticeable but he’d assumed Thomas hadn’t been concerned on their behalf, at least, not on his.

“That night we spent waiting for him, I felt a closeness to you that I have longed to repeat but every day this tension between you and James is…” Thomas shakes his head. “That’s why I let there be distance between us.”

“Do you truly mean that?” Silver asks, his hand still clutching Thomas’s book and Thomas reaches over to place his hand over his trembling fingers.

“Yes.” Slowly he moves closer, taking Silver’s hand in his. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel anything less than welcome. Every day I am grateful you are here, that you came and warned us.”

“I don’t want you to be grateful to me.” Silver mutters. “I want you to want me.” His face burns with admitting that, but he’s already spoken so much. What’s one more confession in the space of all that he admitted? He’s said he loves Flint here, when he’s never said it aloud before.

“Then know this,” Thomas says softly, “I want you very much.” He cups Silver’s cheek in his hands and kisses him tenderly.

The kiss lights a fire in Silver’s body, coiling around him, drawing him in until he has to pull back, flushed and eager.

“What about James?”

Thomas’s hand slides over his shirt, pulling him closer to him.

“He’s had you to himself long enough.” Thomas murmurs hungrily, pressing a kiss into the curve of Silver’s mouth. And Silver groans, faintly, his body warming further at the desire in Thomas’s voice.

His couplings with Flint are so fraught with emotion, barely held back at times, hardly confessed even in the heat of the moment. He knows Flint wants him, but it’s complex in the way that love is in its simple existence, passionate and consuming, and Silver often finds himself desperate for the certainty of assurances at times.

With Thomas this desire is so purely straightforward. He simply wants Silver and the simplicity of such want, sends an answering crushing wave of wanting through Silver. Their mouths find each other again and Thomas’s hands draw him even closer and then they’re against the wall and his hand is inside Silver’s breeches. They’re sliding down his thighs and then Thomas draws himself out, taking them both in hand, making Silver groan again at the breadth of his hand covering them, stroking them in a heated rhythm. Silver’s mouthing kisses his way along Thomas’s neck, trying to reach him, but the angle is wrong. Thomas is too tall, damnit. Silver keeps pushing himself up to get to his mouth, and finally gives up with a slight laugh.

Thomas sucks a mark in the curve of his neck, still stroking them, until Silver whimpers, low in his throat.

“Thomas, I’m going to…”

Thomas simply keeps moving his hand busily until Silver makes good on his word and spills across their cocks. Thomas murmurs something quiet to his hair as he finishes and then he leans down to kiss Silver sweetly on the mouth.

“Tonight when James comes back, I’m going to make good on the promise of I made all those months ago.”

“And what was that?” Silver asks, half in a daze.

Thomas still has his hand on them, warm and broad and if he doesn’t move it, Silver will start to respond again.

“To take you into our bed.” Thomas whispers, nipping at Silver’s ear. “I waited too long.”

Silver gasps at his teeth. “Better late then never.” He manages.

Thomas grins. “In the meantime…” he slides their cocks together meaningfully in the slick of their joined spend, making Silver moan at the sensation of it.

“Can you come again?” Thomas whispers. “For me?”

Silver smiles. “I think I could manage that.”

                                                        * * *

They end up on the bed this time and while Silver has been here mostly on one side of James with Thomas on the other, he’s not been here alone with Thomas, not yet.

Thomas’s coat slips down from his shoulders and he leaves it where it lies on the floor. His hands press lightly into Silver’s skin as they kiss more, bodies leaning together as their tongues glide and dance against each other.

Thomas discards Silver’s breeches and smallclothes, stroking him lightly from base to tip and Silver moans.

“I want you in our bed every night.” Thomas sucks on his lip. “I want you with us. I want you.”

He slips down Silver’s body to take him in his mouth. Silver gasps, arching into the warmth of him, Thomas sucks his cock slowly, making Silver pant and then he draws off, nuzzling Silver with his lips, as his fingers slip between Silver’s cheeks.

“Please.” Silver whispers.

Thomas smiles around his cock and it’s one of the most beautiful things Silver has ever seen. He draws Silver deeper down his throat as his fingers stroke Silver’s entrance, making Silver pant and moan helplessly against him until he can’t hold back any longer.

Thomas sucks him until he’s completely spent and then he moves back up to press another kiss to Silver’s mouth. Silver brushes his hand against Thomas’s cheek, gazing up with him and there’s answering affection in Thomas’s eyes.

Thomas rests his head against Silver’s. “You are precious to me…" The words are so soft Silver thinks he’s dreamt them.

He wraps a hand around Silver’s waist, holding him close. Silver nestles his head against Thomas’s chest, finally feeling like he can breathe.

                                                      * * *

When James returns that night, it’s to a memory of that first time he came back and found them in bed together. This time he can let himself stand there and enjoy the sight of them both together, unlike that time when he had been so afraid of the unknown future ahead of them.

This time he can stand there and let himself know for the first time that there is a world of possibilities before them.

This time he can join them, and he does so, laying down beside Silver, cradling him between him and Thomas as he presses a kiss to Silver’s hair.

Thomas smiles at him over Silver’s shoulder. “I told you he would be in our bed.”

“So you did.” James murmurs. He should have known Thomas was right.

Thomas reaches for his hand, clasping James’s fingers in his. “I should have asked you…I grew tired of waiting, I’m sorry.”

“There is no need for apologies.” James says. “I haven’t been…as forthcoming as I could be.” His other hand plays lightly with Silver’s hair. He wants things to be better between them, but he doesn’t know whether it will be. There is so much of the past between them, the frustration of losing the war is still there, how long it took Silver to tell him of Thomas’s survival, all of these things that if he lets himself forgive, is he not betraying Thomas yet again?

Thomas raises an eyebrow. “That is quite the understatement.”

James chuckles faintly, smothering the noise against the pillow, not wanting to wake Silver.

“It’s all right.” Thomas whispers. “It will be all right, my love.”

James finds himself reassured, even though part of him still wants to ask ‘will it?’ It is not so easy to accept that, even here in the safety of their bed.

“I told him I loved you.” Silver says sleepily, the words muffled into Thomas’s chest.

“What?” James blinks at the words.

Silver yawns and turns his head slightly to gaze up at him. “I told him I loved you, so I suppose I better say it to you as well.”

James is speechless, waiting, and then Silver sighs as he realizes James is actually waiting for him to truly say the words.

“I love you.” He murmurs.

James leans down to kiss his mouth. “I love you too.”

He feels Thomas’s fingers tighten against his, holding him close.

It will be all right, my loves, James thinks and tonight he believes it.

                                                     * * *

In the morning the books are moved to the shelf in the front room.

[picturesinlove]

THE FUTURE IS BRIGHT: a *super* unoriginal ‘best films of 2017′ list

In life, we’re constantly asked what we learnt from things. It’s one way of measuring a completely immeasurable experience. Most films are built on this- ’character arcs’- how do they change and grow? What do they learn? (That’s not a negative thing, just the mechanics of this stick out when it’s done badly). With that in mind, I asked myself, from everything I watched this year, what did I learn?

THE BEST 12 ‘FILMS’ of 2017:

The first thing I learnt- films and TV series have become indistinguishable. It didn’t happen solely this year, but 2017 is definitely the ‘flag in the road’ point. Films are increasingly designed so they can be watched on a small screen with headphones, and most TV should really be watched on a big screen with proper speakers. And TV is sort of the wrong word. Netflix isn’t TV. I don’t know what it is. Just Long Form Storytelling perhaps? It’s certainly becoming less and less episodic. More and more feel like 10 hour films split into 10 parts so you can digest it better. So, this list is really the best 12 *things* of 2017.

The second thing I learnt- how you watch something is almost as important as what you’re watching. What headspace you were in, what time of day it was, if the room was totally dark, if someone a few rows in front of you was talking through the movie, if you’d seen the previous instalments in the series, hell- even if you’d seen the trailer. It all adds to how you think about the film. So, on the list, I’ve included where I saw it.

12. THE DISASTER ARTIST (directed by James Franco)

True story about the making of Tommy Wiseau’s The Room, the best worst film ever made.

I cried like I haven’t cried in years watching this. I don’t know what it was. Just something about the last act hit me so hard I couldn’t contain myself. And when you’re trying to contain yourself BECAUSE THIS IS NOT A SAD FILM AND YOU SHOULD NOT BE CRYING EVERYONE ELSE AROUND YOU IS LAUGHING PLEASE STOP CRYING it’s really hard to stop. It’s a story of ambition, heart and following your dreams no matter what.

Green screen! Lovely green screeeeen! Purely on an aesthetic level, whenever they’re shooting against that unmistakable, vibrant colour I just loved it.

You know when films do that thing and show pictures of the real people the film’s about before the credits so you can go ‘wow this film’s so accurate and got that detail right’?? This does a version of that, and it’s the only one that’s ever mattered/will ever matter.

The real Tommy Wiseau also has my favourite film related tweet of 2017:

Seen at BFI Southbank.

11. ORANGE IS THE NEW BLACK SEASON 5 (created by Jenji Kohan)

The lives of the women at Litchfield Penitentiary, a minimum-security prison in upstate New York. (the annimalllsss the animalllls, TRAP TRAP TRAP till the cage is fulllll...)

This show is about everything the opening titles suggest- women, decisions and time. What’s striking about OITNB is the characters never serve the plot. Plot *is* character. It’s there to serve them. It gives us a framework to waste time with these characters, because ‘all they’ve got is time’.

Season 5 is brave in terms of content and form. There are thousands of people more qualified to speak about the content, so I’ll leave it to them. Form wise: Orange is the New Black is Netflix’s most watched show, and probably it’s major tentpole along with Stranger Things. It has a well-oiled structure. Each season takes place over a few weeks, each episode focusses us in on one character, complete with flashbacks that inform us how they ended up in prison. Season 5 tears that to shreds, setting it basically in real time over 3 days. When it works, it *really* works. There’s no looking away. You feel the grind of what they’re going through. It sometimes leaves them too much time to pad out and we get some boring side plots- but on ambition alone I loved it.

It’s the perfect continuation and accumulation of previous seasons in many ways. The characters you know and love are in extraordinary circumstances. It brings out sides to their personalities that you never knew were there, but fit perfectly. Where all the characters are situated within the prison after the inciting incident is the best use of character geography *as* character I’ve ever seen. Tonally the series has gradually been getting nastier and nastier for a while, but there’s a scene towards the end of this season which is so nasty and so long and REFUSES to cut away even though you desperately, desperately want them too. It’s raw. It hurts. It’s a scene the show has always been heading for tonally and building towards dramatically. 

Season 5 slots in just under 4 for me in terms of ranking them all- but it’s still damn good. One things for certain, 5 changed everything for OITNB. The game is different. 

Oh, and Nicky’s the MVP. 

Netflix.

10. BAD GENIUS (directed by Nattawut Poonpiriya)

Thai Heist-Thriller. A genius high school student makes money after developing elaborate methods to help other students cheat.

WHAT A FUCKING RIDE!! The most fun I’ve had in a cinema all year. More stakes in this than most ‘end of the world’ superhero movies. Genuinely unpredictable.

The filmmaking is so good it makes you forget plausibility is sometimes being pushed. Amazing set-pieces. Expertly choreographed. Form and content perfectly married. This is the best way to tell this story, like a Michael Mann thriller, a Steven Soderbergh Oceans-style heist.

Every character is so rich and textured in their own way. So fully realised. You’ve met them all at some point in your life. It’s whimsical, but painful and genuinely emotional when it needs to be. Never pulls it’s punches.

2 years time, there will almost certainly be an American remake… and it’ll suck so hard. It’s rooted in Thailand, the socio-economic situation of people, the time zones, the pressure to succeed, and honestly- just hearing it in Thai. 

SEE THIS FILM. SEE THIS FILM. SEE THIS FILM. SEE THIS FILM. If you take anything from reading any of this, SEE THIS FILM.

Seen at Vue Leicester Square.

9. NATHAN FOR YOU: FINDING FRANCES (directed by Nathan Fielder)

The feature-length finale of Nathan For You’s 4th season. It’s a show that’s difficult to describe without saying ‘trust me’.... but honestly, *trust me*. Nathan Fielder graduated from business school with ‘really good grades’. He offers outlandish solutions to solve problems for struggling small businesses. In Finding Frances, Fielder uses all the resources of his successful show to help an old Bill Gates impressionist track down his high school sweetheart. Trust me.

Nathan Fielder has accidentally and totally on purpose made one of the best documentaries of the last 10 years.

It’s funny how we remember things. Reality and fiction are blurred. Truth is irrelevant. What does real mean? Does it even matter if we remember it how we want to?

Laptop.

8. THREE BILLBOARDS OUTSIDE EBBING, MISSOURI (directed by Martin McDonagh)

A mother takes desperate steps to pressure local law enforcement to find her daughter’s killer.

Perfectly woven and layered characters. I fucking hate the phrase ‘the character arc’, but if I were teaching a class in it- I’d show this film.

A film about relationships, and every relationship between every character or creature or inanimate object is perfect.

McDonagh loves theatrical sensibilities. Nobody does grand, rich set-pieces quite like him… makes highly stylised situations feel real in the world he sets up.

I could have watched hours more of these characters interacting.

Seen at Embankment Garden Cinema.

7. BLADE RUNNER 2049 (directed by Denis Villeneuve)

Neo-noir, sci-fi sequel to Ridley Scott’s 1981 classic.

I’m not a fan of the original Blade Runner. I appreciate it! It’s beautiful! and groundbreaking! but I just find it so heartless and cold. I just can’t connect to it. The best sci-fis are amazing stories with really fun furniture (the gadgets, tech etc.) The original is too much furniture for me. In other words, I had no reason to like this one IP wise. 2049 takes everything that could have been interesting from the original and expands on that. The furniture is just that- furniture. An amazing setting that enriches and serves the story. Everything is there to tell the story. I left the cinema feeling I’d experienced something the way that everyone talks about experiencing the first one.

The most expensive art film ever made. I literally cannot believe this exists. I cannot believe they gave Villeneuve £185MILLION to make a 3-hour long, philosophical film that has no blockbuster tropes: no loveable rogue hero; no ‘off-beat’ quippy humour to keep you interested; no CGI extravaganza 3rd act; NO.FUCKING.SKYBEAM with floating garbage spinning around it that threatens to destroy the world and the heroes have to stop it before everyone in the world dies; no setting up 5 other already planned sequels in the franchise so nothing important happens in this one. It’s a rare type of blockbuster in 2017- one that trusts it’s audience is intelligent.

Denis Villeneuve really is the most exciting director working today. This is just further proof. Arrival (2016) still my favourite of his, but I’m almost more in awe of him for this. Taking such a well-loved franchise and doing something new with it in a way that still feels respectful of what’s come before. It’s his film.

The only use of Hollywood’s new trend of digitally recreating actors (ala Peter Cushing in Rogue One: A Star Wars Story) that will ever matter. THIS is how you do it well.

Gender politics (we’re gunna’ go there, SPOILERS AHEAD and I know my opinion doesn’t really matter or count for anything on this just thought it’d be silly not to bring it up, feel free to disagree, v. interested to hear what everyone thinks about this!!) Lots has been written about the treatment of female characters in 2049. Most apt example I can think of to explain how I feel- Taxi Driver (1976), there’s a cafe scene in which the camera lingers on some black characters for uncomfortably long in a kind of parading manner, a ‘look at how terrible these guys are’ manner... it’s very understandable why one could interpret the film itself as racist. I’d argue the film is completely aware of what it’s doing- it’s putting us in Travis Bickle’s eyes, who is a racist character. I mean, we’re literally in his head the whole thing, hearing what he’s thinking and seeing what he’s seeing... I guess what I’m saying is- ‘it’s a decision.’ It’s not an offhand random shot where the filmmaker’s own gaze comes through, it’s a skilfully planned decision to make us question and think about something, in Taxi Driver’s case- what kind of man Bickle is. The treatment of women in 2049 *IS* a decision. It’s not Villeneuve lazily commodifying women, it’s him saying a world where women are only a commodity is a fucking bleak one. It’s a world where real women have been rendered obsolete because the height of success in our society (the CEO of a large corporation), an egoistical white guy with a god-complex manufactures life so women aren’t necessary for continuing the human race, and creates holographic partners for everyday men so they’re emotionally fulfilled without having to engage with actual women. And it’s so horrible. I mean, is anybody happy in this film? Is the picture of the future this film paints bright? It’s a film about how the arrogance of men will destroy everything. And on a base story level, it’s literally about guy who thinks everything is about him... but it turns out to be about a woman. Perhaps it’s lazy for the film to make the decision ‘it’s a patriarchal world so all the women are prostitutes and are treated badly so we’re just gunna’ do that’, but I dunno’... I think there’s more going on. I think Villeneuve is too good for that. I mean his last film was literally about a genius female linguist being the saviour of the world and how a mother’s love is the most precious thing. Would he really do such a U-turn and make a film where the female characters are just objects to be gazed at? I mean- maybe?? If any other aspect of the film felt like it was the studio meddling with Villenueve’s vision I’d buy that... but it’s just SO his film. And I think he’s clever enough to know who the primary audience of this film is- geeky 20 year-old guys. He draws them in with the surface (and all too familiar) images of the female characters, and then turns all of that on it’s head. Just my opinion. Obviously I can never be completely impartial- very happy to be converted the other way. 

Seen at Picturehouse Central.

6. CALL ME BY YOUR NAME (directed by Luca Guadagnino)

Somewhere in Northern Italy, Summer 1983, Elio’s life changes.

Sun-drenched Europe, the smell of warmth and twirling cigarette smoke, deep blue sky- pure, breakfast with a glass of apricot juice and an espresso, the sound of bike spokes spinning lazily.

I wish I could live with these people.

‘Later.’

The rawest and best final shot in the last 10 years.

Seen at Odeon Leicester Square.

5. THE BIG SICK (directed by Michael Showalter)

A Pakistani-born standup comedian/Uber driver and a grad student strike up an unlikely relationship.

MAGIC. The perfect retort to use when someone says ‘all rom-coms suck’. A genuine slab of gold that’s as funny as it is heartfelt. And it’s just SO the kind of thing I like.

I’m unbelievably bored of films and just art in general that’s terrified of being sincere in fear of being labelled sappy or over-sentimental. The Big Sick says ‘fuck you’ to that school of thought and goes for it. 

Comedy, romance and drama are effortlessly blended- sometimes all in the same scene. And it never feels off-kilter, mainly due to the amazing performances. Kumail Nanjiani, Zoe Kazan, Ray Romano, Holly Hunter and the rest of the cast always play the truth of the scene- not the humour, the romance or the drama, just the TRUTH of the moment.

The perfect antidote to the year 2017 in general.

Seen at Aldeburgh Cinema.

4. YOU WERE NEVER REALLY HERE (directed by Lynne Ramsay)

Gulf War veteran Joe rescues children from trafficking rings.

This is a horror. And more terrifying than any jump scare, this whole film is populated by ghosts.

Deeply troubled, deeply disturbed. Beautiful. Precise. Scatter-brained. Focused. A violin strung too tightly, then played by a madman. How can something so stripped down and raw feel so symphonic and wholesome?

There are things in this that will play on loop in my head for the rest of my life. Images and sounds so seared into my brain they find me at the strangest of moments in a day, and I’m always left thinking about them for the rest of that day. It’s clever like that. Joe can never escape what he’s seen. 

Francis Ford Coppola famously told press at the 1979 Cannes premiere of Apocalypse Now - ‘My film is not about Vietnam. It is Vietnam.’

You Were Never Really Here is not about PTSD... it is PTSD.

Seen at Odeon Leicester Square.

3. LOGAN (directed by James Mangold)

Wolverine’s last outing.

I’m not a huge fan of superhero films. Most are fun. Most are also lazy. Few will survive the test of time. Those that will use all the tricks in their genre box and do something interesting with them, transcend- Rami’s Spiderman 2 (2004), Bird’s The Incredibles (2004), Nolan’s The Dark Knight (2008)... and Mangold’s Logan. 

So aged. So weary. Everyone is tired. Tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of living. Like three sharp metal claws jaggedly tearing through flesh, nothing is polished about this. Bloodshot eyes, skin like leather. He feels so much regret. Like most real heroes, he mourns those he couldn’t save rather than celebrates those he did. And it’s eaten him up inside for the hundreds of years he’s lived.

Here I go talking about furniture again... but every piece of furniture (superpowers etc.) is there to serve the story (and here the characters are story). Like so many blockbusters and superhero movies fail to do, this film is about something other than the furniture... e.g. how do you tell a story about dementia that gives someone who hasn’t experienced a family member suffering from it *that* feeling of sadness, loss, embarrassment, empathy and frustration? You give it to Charles Xavier (played by Patrick Stewart), a character you’re use to seeing as the leader, who always has a clever plan up his sleeve and has the ability to control other’s minds. You give it to him, and you force everyone watch the person they respected the most have to be lifted into bed while screaming about fast-food. It’s heartbreaking. Complex. It’s actually about something other than how in superhero world teamwork saves the day. Every ‘plot point’ and moment tells us something about these characters, even to a fault sometimes. SUBTLE: Logan pulling them jammed claws the way an old boy down the pub with arthritis feels his fingers. UNSUBTLE BUT STILL INTERESTING: making Logan fight the only thing he’s truly scared of- literally the version of himself that blindly obeys orders.

Everyone is SO fucking real. Just *watch* the way Daphne Keen eats that bowl of cereal.

Would highly recommend watching the ‘Noir’ Black & White version. 

mild spoilers: It also features the best single edit of the year, from Laura stabbing the shit out of some dude to a flurry of scattered drum beats in the score... then that piercing animalistic roar rips through and all is silent... she spins.... from this:

CUT to this:

An empty forest, the roar echoes out... a low bass note tolls like a funeral. Something is coming. Help is on the way, but it’s an untamed, ruthless, violent help. He’s near...

No one single cut has ever given me chills like that before.

Seen at Odeon Leicester Square & Picturehouse Central (Noir version)

2. TWIN PEAKS: THE RETURN (directed by David Lynch)

Agent Cooper’s odyssey back to the small town of Twin Peaks. The original series of Twin Peaks that aired in the early 90s is often cited as creating ‘prestige’ television as we know it today- your Game of Thrones’, HBO high-quality, Netflix and so on... 25 years later, David Lynch and Mark Frost have returned to kill it. 

Earth-shattering. Groundbreaking. An 18-hour film (split into 16 parts) so layered, so complex i’m not even sure where to begin... and most of what I have to say has probably been written by someone else much more eloquently. 

For the first 9 hours, I found The Return mostly frustrating. I love the original series so, so much (and the prequel film Fire Walk With Me is one of my favourite films of all time). When I hit hour 10, it was like all the clouds in my head suddenly cleared. I ‘got’ it. What I thought I wanted was all my favourite characters back again talking about cherry pie and coffee with that soft romantic filter. Lynch and Frost (the creators) knew I wanted that. They also knew I didn’t *really* want that... because, the original series will always exist. They knew nothing would disappoint more than a soft reboot. The Return is it’s own thing- within the universe of Twin Peaks, and... within the actual universe. Seriously, how can you categorise this? It jumps from screwball slapstick comedy to silent black and white existentialist horror to 10 minute live band performances... what is the point of even trying to categorise it?

On some of the individual parts: Part 3 is a low-fi, surrealist, near silent masterpiece. Part 8 is... ‘Pure Heroin Lynch’ and has already changed TV forever. Part 11 is the most satisfying instalment, fulfilling storylines from the original series in a measured and poignant way. Part 17 is the conclusion we wanted, sort of... Part 18 is the start of a new mystery, and one of the most haunting things I’ve ever seen.

Twin Peaks will change you life.

Seen on Laptop.

1. THE FLORIDA PROJECT (directed by Sean Baker)

In the shadow of Disney World, 6 year-old Moonee and her friends spend the summer playing around the Motels they live in, while her mother Halley struggles to find a new job.

Pastel bright colours. Every person has survived a storm. Explore the wasteland of failed corporate America. Become a child again. The endless spinning of helicopter blades, a constant reminder of what they can’t do- escape. 

Doesn’t ask you to like the characters. Doesn’t need to. Moonee has seen too much. Halley’s anger at herself and her life bubbles underneath every word and action, but she just doesn’t know how to fix it.

It is *SO* achingly beautiful it hurts. I find it hard to even watch the trailer without crying.

For the problems that face Moonee, honorary queen of The Magic Castle Motel, and the impending darkness that’s sure to come, she has the most powerful gift of all- finding hope where there is none. 

‘See, I took you on a safari.’ 

Seen at Odeon Leicester Square & ICA.

DISCLAIMER- things that are not out yet in the UK/I shamefully haven’t yet seen and would likely be on my list too: Lady Bird (further DISCLAIMER i would actually kill somebody to see this) A Ghost Story Raw Phantom Thread War for the Planet of The Apes Coco American Vandal Mindhunter

BEST SCENES:

The third thing I learnt this year- it’s impossible to talk about a specific scene in a film without spoiling it. So... SPOILERS.

The Stairway Fight - ATOMIC BLONDE (directed by David Leitch)

If someone could tell me what the fuck was going on in Atomic Blonde that’d be great but until then I’ll just marvel at how amazing the fight sequences are. Charlize Theron again puts herself at the centre of the progression of American action cinema following her iconic performance in Mad Max: Fury Road (2015). From the first time we see her, lying in an expensive bath healing her wounds and soothing her bruises, we know at some point we’re going to see how she got them. CUE: The 15 minute stairway fight sequence, made to look like a single continuous shot. Leitch and Chad Stahelski (his frequent collaborator and director of the also brilliant John Wick: Chapter 2) are determined to show general audiences what good action scenes look like. This 15-min beauty harkens back to the almost dance like hospital shootout in Hard Boiled (1992), with the rawness and determination of a Children of Men (2006) tracking shot. Charlize Theron (as MI6 agent Lorraine Broughton) fights her way through swarms of henchmen over several floors of an abandoned block of flats, all the while trying to protect Eddie Marsan (who wouldn’t want to protect Eddie Marsan??) Every punch, kick and throw HURTS. By the end, she and the final henchman are so exhausted there’s a sense they might just call the whole thing off- but something pushes them on. Oh, and there’s a 5 minute car chase all part of the same shot to end. Also features the BEST LINE OF 2017. In retort to the final henchman strangling her desperately whispering ‘Take this, bitch!’, she turns the tables, stabs him up hard, then before delivering the final knockdown, pushes her nose to his and asks- ‘Am I your bitch now?’ She doesn’t wait for a reply.

The Eyeless Woman - TWIN PEAKS: THE RETURN (directed by David Lynch)

Lynch’s best nightmare.

Train Hysterics - LAST FLAG FLYING (directed by Richard Linklater)

2003. A Vietnam veteran recruits his two oldest buddies, who he served with, to accompany him on a journey no one should ever have to take. 

I liked this movie a lot- just missed out on the top 12 list. The standout scene happens little over half way through, the characters sitting in a storage carriage of a train talking about losing their virginities. It’s the best ‘characters uncontrollably laughing’ scene since The Intouchables (2011). 

The Snowball epilogue - STRANGER THINGS 2 (directed by The Duffer Brothers)

Stranger Things season 2 was super mixed for me. I enjoyed it a lot. Kind of. 

The first series is a perfect little story, with a perfect beginning, middle and end. I god damn *love* it’s characters so, so much. The plot was simple remixed 80s nostalgia beats, but really just a vehicle for you to get to know Mike and Eleven and Nancy etc. Think about how much each and every scene was practically designed to reveal more about who they were. It was so beautiful. Season 2 however had wayyyyy too much plot which was obsessed with itself and how cool it was and as a result left characters with nothing to do. In other words, in Season 1 all the characters had something to do because the plot came from them, in season 2 characters were given plot roles... like, explain to me what Mike did all season before he saw Eleven again at the v end of episode 8?? What did Jonathan’s storyline tell us about him we didn’t already know? Sure, they don’t have to set up who they are all over again, but the best sequels never take for granted we love the characters- they give us new reasons to love them. 

It’s clear to see whose storylines had natural progressions from season 1 and they knew where they were going, and those they had to think of something because Netflix desperately wanted another season quickly. The only original characters season 2 really worked for were Steve and Will. ‘Steve The Babysitter’ was the perfect progression for his character- him voluntarily discarding his Alpha-Jock status, seeing it was all bullshit, now his caring side comes out. Fuck, think how much you disliked Steve all of Season 1 compared to how much you love and deeply want him to be ok at the end of season 2. THAT’s good writing. His storyline was perfect for his character, it kept giving us new reasons to love him. And Will. Holy shit. His descent into Reagan-level possession was the most engaging part of season 2. Basically all of the story came from him. And Noah Schnapp is so damn good. I think simplicity is the key. His story was unpredictable till the last moments, when you realise it was inevitable. It has a clear premise, unlike most of season 2. 

In the first, there were very clear overarching premises from the start- Will Byers is missing, Eleven has escaped from the Lab, the Demogorgon is on the loose. Simple premises that allow our characters to manoeuvre around... Season 2 doesn’t really have one other than Will is clearly still connected to the Upside Down... the Mind Flayer doesn’t really start as a concept till the penultimate episode... Hopper and Eleven living together maybbe?? but we’re not really given enough time with them. Everyone else is left with nothing to do, or something that doesn’t really serve their character... UNTIL THE LAST 15 MINUTES.

The Snowball epilogue was like coming to the surface after swimming laps underwater- I sort of enjoyed the laps but I’d rather just be able to breath. All the self-indulgent 80s nostalgia *plot* is done, and all the characters have interesting things to do!! Steve giving Dustin tips dropping him off, and then that longing look he gives towards the hall. Dustin realising ‘I don’t look like Steve Harrington’ after being rejected by every girl at the ball and dejectedly crying... and in comes Nancy to save the day!! Genuinely one of the most beautiful moments in anything all year (notice how we learn more about Nancy’s true nature in this one moment that anything else she really did all season??) Jonathan nearby keeping an eye on Will and being his helpful self taking the Ball pictures. Lucas ignoring what the rest of the group think about Max and asking her to dance. Will actually going to the ball, acting as normal as he can and dancing with someone!! Joyce and Hopper nervously wait outside and reminiscently share a smoke as they did in their highschool days- contemplating on how they probably won’t ever feel like they aren’t worried about their kids... and finally Mike and Eleven just having a bit of happiness for once- actually going to the Snowball together, a beautiful conclusion after speaking about it at the end of Season 1.

As each moment passed in this glorious sequence, I loved the characters more and more. They aren’t doing anything supernatural or life threatening, but the stakes feel SO much higher than they had all season. It’s real. They aren’t shackled with ‘advancing the plot’, they can just be themselves. And I loved it.

BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY:

Time’s Arrow, Episode 11, BoJack Horseman Season 4 (created by Raphael Bob-Waksberg)

BoJack Horseman has been the most visually beautiful cartoon for a while now, it’s breathtaking season 3 silent underwater adventure Fish out of Water helped to gain it much appreciated wide applause. Time’s Arrow is a different beast. Genuinely horrifying. A mind cracked into a thousand pieces and glued back together into something resembling crazy paving. The animation is disturbing. Really disturbing. The nightmarish images running through the failing mind of an old woman with dementia. Images of her regrets, the neglect and abuse at the hands of her parents. Memories burn and melt away like plastic in a fire. The faceless humans and constant scribble over Henrietta’s face haunts me. Beyond the obvious sinister imagery, it means something. A puzzle with too many missing pieces to really make out what the picture actually is. And we’ll never really know.

It’s not the first thing that pops into mind when you think of ‘cinematography’, but Time’s Arrow is the best visual storytelling since... the previous season of BoJack Horseman.

BEST PERFORMANCES:

Cate Blanchett as various in MANIFESTO (directed by Julian Rosefeldt)

Originally a critically acclaimed multi-screen video installation in which Cate Blanchett plays 13 different characters, ranging from a school teacher to a homeless man, performing artist’s manifestos in 13 different scenarios. Part of the financing deal was Rosefeldt had to cut a 90 minute, linear version of the piece for a cinematic setting.

NO one could have pulled this off like she did. She’s running on adrenaline and pure bravery. She makes interesting choices at every twist and turn. How does looking at her never get tiresome? Every jump from character to character feels genuine. She blew my mind- I knew I was looking at the same person over and over again, but I also *knew* I was looking at 13 different people. 

A masterclass.

Kyle MacLachlan as various in TWIN PEAKS: THE RETURN (directed by David Lynch)

2017 is the year of staggering ‘multi-character’ performances. Kyle MacLachlan’s involvement in the new season of Twin Peaks was basically the only thing anyone knew about it going in. And he is the heart of this season in so many ways. Returning to a character 25 years later must be a daunting prospect, but MacLachlan shows no fear. Not only does he play the pragmatic, joyful Agent Cooper we all know and love, he plays his steely, pure evil doppelganger Mr C, child-like amnesiac Dougie Jones and in the final episode... someone quite special. And he makes it look so damn easy. He is the fabric that holds together The Return.

THE ‘KIDS’ in EVERYTHING

2017 has been a bad year for Hollywood. Ultimately though, it will be looked back on as the turning point. THINGS CHANGE NOW. The old guard is running from their past scared. And they should be scared. Uma Thurman is coming to murder them all. There is no room left for the Harvey Weinstein’s, the rotting core of top-down abuse has been exposed. Brett Ratner can fuck off with his swaggering playboy image and terrible movies. 

What is truly uplifting is who is going to replace them. A new generation of pure, true artists that this year has shone a spotlight on.

The future is Brooklynn Prince and Bria Vinaite, stars of The Florida Project. The future is Timothée Chalamet, whose central performance in Call Me By Your Name is the realist, rawest thing ever. The future is Saoirse Ronan, the next Meryl Streep. The future is Daniel Kaluuya, who has finally gained world-wide recognition for his stunning leading performance in Get Out. The future is Finn Wolfhard, Millie Bobby Brown and all of the kids from Stranger Things, who masterfully manage the horrific pressures of being thrust into the tabloid spotlight at the same age most of us just want to cry in our rooms. The future is Sophia Lillis and the rest of the Loser’s Club from IT (a film with the most oppressively terrible sound design ever yet they still manage to make it fun and watchable.) The future is Daphne Keen, the best on-screen cereal-eater who almost steals the film from Hugh Jackman in Logan. The future is Lucas Hedges, someone with rare human fingerprint over every word he speaks in Three Billboards and last year in Manchester By The Sea. The future is Donald Glover, the most creative, multi-talented young artist alive. The future is Caleb Landry Jones, who’s had maybe the most impressive year, with standout supporting roles in The Florida Project, Twin Peaks: The Return, Get Out and Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. The future is Tessa Thompson, the best thing about Thor: Ragnarok.  The future is Michael B. Jordan, Chadwick Boseman, Lupita Nyong'o, all the team behind the upcoming Black Panther film, helmed by Ryan Coogler. The future is Barry Jenkins, director of best picture winner Moonlight. The future is Daisy Ridley, John Boyega, Oscar Isaac, Adam Driver and Kelly Marie Tran, the new faces of the most popular franchise ever. The future is Alice Lowe, a force to be reckoned with. Writing, directing and starring in a feature film is difficult enough. She did all of that while heavily pregnant. Oh, and it was her debut feature. It’s called Prevenge and it rocks. The future is Ava Duvernay, a beacon of hope- cannot wait for A Wrinkle in Time, which drops early next year. The future is Sean Baker, the most empathetic filmmaker working today. The future is Patty Jenkins and Gal Godot who have revolutionised the superhero film and inspired a generation of little girls with Wonder Woman.  The future is Kumail Nanjiani and Zoe Kazan, who I’ll follow in whatever they do after The Big Sick. The Future is Jordan Peele, the most exciting new director. The future is GRETA GERWIG, mumblecore queen turned saviour of cinema.

So, what did I learn this year? Well, Agent Dale Cooper is certainly one of the best characters of all time. But most of all: amongst the darkness of everything that’s happened within the film industry in 2017... there’s hope.

The future is bright.

[pocket-elf]

2017 Year Survey

(I’ve done this for a couple of years so why not this?)

1. What did you do in 2017 that you’d never done before?

I fell in love. 

2. Did you keep your New Years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I didn’t make any but I think I will make one for next year

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Yes! I have a nephew now!

4. Did anyone close to you die? Thankfully no.

5. What countries did you visit? Only the UK. And Denmark if the airport counts haha (I mean it’s where I always fly from so)

6. What would you like to have in 2018 that you lacked in 2017? Energy, a job I actually like (energy should follow that though), kisses

7. What date from 2017 will remain etched upon your memory? None, but 2017 gave me a date from 2011 that will stick.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Is landing a girl an achievement? XD Other than that I didn’t achieve anything.

9. What was your biggest failure? Not getting out of my sucky job I guess, and letting it bring me down.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? Working in a hospital in a physically demanding job has made me more sick than normal during a single year for sure. But it’s been colds and the flu and such. And not a single week goes by without me getting at least one fresh bruise, and probably a cut. But it’s all minor things really. I’ve gotten stronger too so I guess it’s a tradeoff?

11. What was the best thing you bought? Hm, I feel like I didn’t buy anything major. I’m super happy to have bought some proper 50s revival items though (and not just thing sI’ve made myself or Chinese knockoffs) I guess I did buy an engagement ring though, maybe. 

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration? I guess mine for dealing with the feels? Haha.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed? Too many to fucking count. The whole damn Trump administration for starters. And an additional gazillion racists, homophobes, dictators, etc.

14. Where did most of your money go? Not counting the stable basics like rent and food and such bullshit... I guess my London weekend, which included some good shopping. 

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? There’s that one person and the butterflies she somehow set free. 

16. What song/album will always remind you of 2017? I guess I won’t know that until a few years from now looking back. But probably Ruelle’s stuff. 

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: i. happier or sadder? Happier. Like, personally I am way happier when I can actually relax and think. Overall I’m more blank I guess, cause I’m always tired and in a never ending cycle of work - sleep - work ii. thinner or fatter?  I think the same. iii. richer or poorer? Richer. At the end of last year I had been unemployed for a good few months, eating through my savings. Now I’ve had a decently steady job for almost a full year. Not well paid, but I have been able to save, and cover my expenses.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Basically anything that isn’t work. Reading for sure, gaming too. Travelling. 

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Work.

20. How will you be spending Christmas? I’m not sure actually. Probably relaxing, and then in the evening have dinner with the parents, maybe do a repeat of last year where we had dinner at their place and then walked over to mine for sweets and gifts (I’m the one with the tree!)

21. Who did you spend the most time on the phone with? @cordycepling​ for sure. I mean it doesn’t matter that we had like two months of some kind of unspoken fear of actually calling again, that doesn’t change the fact that whenever we DO talk it’s for hours. And I don’t really talk on the phone with a lot of other people xD

22. Did you fall in love in 2017? I did! With a woman, and with a lot of fandom things haha.

23. How many one night stands in this last year? None. I don’t think the answer to this question will ever change.

24. What was your favourite TV programme? Still running would be 12 Monkeys of course. We got s3 this year and it was crazy and good. However, I think we all know which TV programme had the most impact on me... Shadowhunters all the way baby! I started watching it with an insane amount of prejudice, but Netflix made it so easy to binge. And sometime during season 2 I realised I actually liked it. And in 2B there was no denying that it isn’t even a guilty pleasure anymore. I learned how to gif for it, I am seriously writing fanfiction, I made new friends... yeah. It’s a thing. Oh and I think I watched Mozart in the Jungle in the beginning of the year and really loved that. Can’t wait for the next season.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? No one specific I guess?

26. What was the best book you read? That’s so hard! I haven’t read as much as I wished either. Hm, maybe Your Soul is a River by Nikita Gill. Oh and apparently I read the Rogue One novelisation the first week of the year. Now that was amazing. 

27. What was your greatest musical discovery? Not sure. I do quite like Ruelle now. This year has made me fall back into the whole tying lyrics to fandom, which is fun. I’ve also listened a lot to the radio at work (luckily we do tend to end up on stations that play more stuff than just the latest hits)

28. What did you want and get? A girlfriend! Also a job.

29. What did you want and not get? A girlfriend who doesn’t live on the other side of the world, and a new and better job.

30. What was your favourite film of this year? Wonder Woman I think. I did watch Arrival in January and that was really good. Oh and Palmeras en la nieve too. 

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I turned the big 30! I had a nice lil picnic with friends, which ended with Cards Against Humanity (after about half the guests had gone home) which is always fun. It was a good birthday. Even had the day off from work!

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? A job that didn’t suck every bit of energy out of me. 

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2017? 50s revival I guess. Not historically correct by any means, but inspired! And not full on rockabilly either. But yeah. However, most of my time is spent in work clothes. And going to and from work I don’t care what I look like pretty much. And I usually wear the same thing for many days cause it’s literally on my body for maximum one hour. Then it’s PJs and my new discovery: onesies. Bought a skeleton onesie around Halloween and fell in love. Apparently for me to find fitting onesies I should go shopping in the boy’s section!

34. What kept you sane? As always: the internet and fandom. More specifically: ignoring the actual fandom and engaging with a select few people and the source material. 

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? I don’t know. The year started with Diego Luna and Gael Garcia Bernal for sure. Then it all kinda calmed down over summer. And I guess in fall/winter it’s been the Shadowhunters cast cause they’re all so damn adorable. 

36. What political issue stirred you the most? I guess the US always takes the cake. Cause it’s in the media so much as well, overshadowing all the other horrors of the world.

37. Who did you miss? @cordycepling something fierce, especially right now. 

38. Who was the best new person you met? I dunno. I guess in person gotta be someone at work? Online... there are so many great new people out there. I love you all! And special shoutout to the squad ofc.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2017. You need to open your damn eyes fool. Also... all hope is not lost, there is someone out there.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. Let’s do two, one cute and one urgh:

I found love where it wasn’t supposed to be - right in front of me.

Workin' 9 to 5, what a way to make a livin' Barely gettin' by, it's all takin' and no givin' They just use your mind and you never get the credit It's enough to drive you crazy if you let it

[schedios]

u kno what’s it

New Year’s Thingy 

1. What did you do in 2017 that you’d never done before?

Went on a march (Women's March 2017)

Went to Aquarium of the Pacific, and then Monterey Bay Aquarium with friends and came home in one day (god)

Hosted a friend from out of town in my new place and went to Griffith Observatory, the Broad, and the Bradbury Building

Went to the Grand Canyon with friends

Worked a proper retail store

SAW HAMILTON

Got a proper job

Went to the Renaissance fair (holla at ya casey)

Went to CTNx

Saw John Mulaney

Went to the LA Zoo Lights

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

These are from last year:

Make more art (I definitely did) Try out more recipes (Lol nah but when jessie comes I probs will) Be more conscious about spending money (hooOEY) MAKE MORE ART DAMN (YEAH OKAY I DID) Be kind, gracious, calmer (I think I can check the first two HHH)

And for this year:

Make more original content! Use those OCs Practice drawing IRL Practice Spanish more!!!!!! Be calmer, kinder, and more patient Read more!! Manage time better >_>;;

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

No!

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No

5. What countries did you visit?

None this year!

6. What would you like to have in 2018 that you lacked in 2017?

b e n e f i t s

7. What date from 2017 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

The first half of this year was hard

Going to the Grand Canyon... aside from the canyon part..

Seeing Hamilton!

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Getting a job?? Being able to pay for things all on my own honestly

9. What was your biggest failure?

I guess I could've made even more content than I did...

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Not really...

11. What was the best thing you bought?

New clothes?? Fish balls. IKEA SHARK!!!!!

12. Where did most of your money go?

Aside from rent and clothes, that trip to the Grand Canyon and visiting home

13. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Visiting home in October! I didn't realize how much I needed to.

Learning that I'd be living with Jessie!!!!

Hamilton!

14. What song will always remind you of 2017?

My spotify called my out for listening to 06 by Sons of An Illustrious Father and the Fantastic Beasts soundtrack

Electric Guest's new album Plural

Night in the Woods' soundtrack got me through a lot

Lin-Manuel Miranda's Almost Like Praying

Florence and the Machine's Too Much Is Never Enough

Assassin's Creed Syndicate's soundtrack

15. Compared to this time last year, are you:

Happier or sadder? I'm happier. I am

Older or wiser? Both. My body has yelled at me, so maybe older >_>

Thinner or fatter? SOFTER

Richer or poorer? Uhhhh?

16. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Draw and animate always, learn more

17. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Get angry

18. How did you spend Christmas?

HOME!!!!!

19. What was your favorite TV program?

RWBY and Peaky Blinders

Does watching YouTubers count? Because there was a lot of Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, Rooster Teeth content consumed

22. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Same.

23. What was the best book you read?

Uhhhhhhh >_>;;

I'm reading Mort and Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell

24. What was your greatest musical discovery?

NITW, AC:S and the RWBY soundtracks haha

But also! Ordinary Songs 2 by Snail’s House

25. What did you want and get?

To go home during the middle of the year, a job, go to the Grand Canyon

26. What did you want and not get?

B E N E F I T S

27. What was your favorite film of this year?

Here’s what I’ve seen this year! Rogue One, Fantastic Beasts (Making a comic in 3 days for this taught me a lot), Koe no Katachi (read the manga bc Jessie suggested it, and I absolutely adore it), Arrival, COCO (!!!!!!!!!), The Shape of Water

28. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

Stayed with family and got dinner. When I got home, one of my friends took me out to a beach north of us, then later we got a nice dinner at a tapas place downtown. Let's get a drink sometime.

29. What's one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

BEN *CLAP* E *CLAP* FITS *CLAPCLAPCLAP*

30. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2016?

Started picking up more monochrome! Lots of gray and white and black ha

31. What kept you sane?

My friends and my mom. Getting that retail job and getting my current job

32. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Lin-Manuel Miranda!!!!!

Jack, Mark, the RT crew :>

33. What issue stirred you the most?

HARVEY AND MARIA. Jesus christ. I spent my birthday with family, and I had my phone glued to my hand. I downloaded Twitter for the first time so I could get updates on what was happening with my hometown. "Good luck," our nation's leader said, to these cities as hurricanes battered them. Good fucking luck.

Net Neutrality???? JESUS??

34. Who did you miss?

My mom and my friends again. Jessie but I'll be with her soon. Jane ;0;. DaAe ;_______;

35. Who was the best new person you met?

Hmm

36. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2017:

I will work to be better. Not I wish. I will.

You can work and have a plan but that doesn't stop things from swooping in and dashing that all away. It doesn't matter that you were prepared or not. That's just life and it sucks sometimes. But we keep going, we have to.