#season 9 is when her egg finally cracks

[stackthedeck]

hi!! I was wondering what happened to your t4t butch dean and trans cas fic?? Im really interested to read it if you still have it! butch dean is WAY to close to my heart. anyways have a nice day! <3

this has been in my ask box for literal months but I've decided to rewatch Supernatural (I'm not well) and I remembered this fic and this ask so... I'll probably never finish the fic or post it on ao3, but I did write this one scene and I like it a lot even though I like to think I'm a better writer now, but I wanna post it.

So for context this is happening in early season 5 where Sam and Dean are separated and also the plan for the fic as a whole was that Cas's complete separation from heaven was also mirrored by her gender journey, so Cas in this doesn't think of himself as a man, but has accepted that people view his vessel as a man and has excepted it. Basically, her egg hasn't cracked yet.

The road has been lonely since Sam left. Good lonely. For the first time in… well ever, Dean’s not playing mom or big sister. She’s just a hunter. A hunter who doesn’t have to look over her shoulder every second to make sure her baby brother isn’t getting maimed or hooked on demon blood. It’s good lonely… kind of.

It’s just that the front seat of the Impala is so empty and no matter how high she cranks the volume, the car just feels so quiet. The road just goes on and on forever. It sucks not having back-up on hunts, but Dean’s capable. According to the angels, she’s too important to die so she’s been pushing her luck lately.

The road hasn’t felt this empty since Dad went missing.

Dean’s pulled from her thoughts by a buzzing in her pocket. She pulls out her phone and sees a familiar number on the screen. The last time Dean ran into Cas, she gave him a burner phone so that they could keep in touch.

“Hello?” She says, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder.

“Dean, it’s Castiel,” Cas’s voice says from the phone, “where are you?”

“On the road.” Dean looks around for a mile marker, but it’s in the dead of night and there are no streetlights. Dean rambles off the interstate road she’s on and takes a wild guess at what mile she’s at. “I can pull off at the next exit if it’s important.”

A woosh of air and a flap of wings reverberate through the car. Dean looks over and Cas is in the passenger seat. “You don’t need to pull off,” Cas says into the phone as he stares at Dean.

Dean huffs and hangs up the phone, shoving it back into her pocket. “Any updates on God?”

“Nothing since the last time I saw you-” Cas sighs and looks out the windshield “-but I’m still looking.”

“If there’s nothing new—” Dean drums her fingers on the steering wheel “—then why are you here?”

Cas does his head tilt and Dean pointedly keeps her eyes on the road. Sure, she finds Cas’s clumsy attempts at expressing emotion cute, but it’s cute like a baby or a puppy. “I sensed that you were lonely.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Whatever happened to not perching on my shoulder?”

“Things are different now.” Cas’s words hit Dean’s ears with such certainty and finality, but she doesn’t feel like they’re true. Things are exactly the same. She’s still saving people, hunting things. It’s the family business, just without the family. Okay well, maybe things are different.

Dean does her best to keep her eyes on the road, but the highway is empty at this time of night. It’s so easy to let her eyes drift to the angel in her front seat, silhouetted by moonlight. His face is stone, that typical neutral expression, but Dean can see in his eyes that something is eating at him.

“So sitting here in silence is your grand plan for making me less lonely?” 

Cas shifts in his seat, his tie suddenly becoming very interesting. “Can I ask you a personal question, Dean?”

Dean does her best not to sigh. This better not be a chick-flick moment or worse yet, a Christian movie moment. “I thought you already knew everything about me? What with the rebuilding my soul and all.”

“I want to hear it from you.” Cas drops his tie and meets Dean’s eyes.

Dean nods, pursing her lips. “Alright, shoot.”

“How did you decide to…” Cas hesitates “...decide to… not look like the other females of your species?”

Dean laughs. If Cas had asked her that a month ago, she’d assume he was trying to get her to grow her hair out and start wearing pink. But she trusts Cas, trusts that he likes that humans don’t perfectly line up with God’s vision. “You mean, why am I a lesbian?”

“No, I understand that,” Cas says, “women are very pleasing to look at.”

Dean smiles. She’s surprised that the strip club incident didn’t turn Cas off of women or just humans in general.

“So, why am I butch?”

Cas nods. “Yes, I believe that is the term.”

“I don’t know, I just am.” Dean drums her fingers against the steering wheel. “Sam took a gender studies course when he went off to college, he probably gets this stuff more than I do.”

“Well, I want to hear it from you.”

Dean sighs and rubs at the back of her head. “I don’t know, I guess Dad was a real traditional guy. From what I remember, Mom cooked and cleaned, took care of me and Sammy and Dad went to work. I don’t remember much of Mom, but I remember being in the kitchen with her and her handing me baby Sammy to hold while she was busy. I didn’t mind those things because I was with her, you know?”

Dean stares through the windshield, watching the landscape blur as the car speeds past. “And then Mom died and Dad still went to work. And suddenly it was just me and baby Sam alone in motel rooms for days. I think Dad was so caught up in his revenge that he forgot that Sam and I needed a dad and a mom. So I started cooking and looking after Sam because if I didn’t we’d starve.”

Dean can feel the words spilling out of her like a busted dam. She’s never told anyone any of this, but now that she is, she can’t stop.

“I think Dad expected me to be the new mom. He’d come back to the motel rooms from hunts or from bars and be furious if there wasn’t something to eat. And it’s not like he ever went grocery shopping. He’d just leave a credit card—that barely ever worked by the way—or cash and expect me to figure it out! I couldn’t stand that he treated me like his little wife. Then, Sam started looking at me like I was his mom and not his big sister.

“It didn’t help that I looked like Mom. I have her eyes, you know. And when I was younger I had long curly blonde hair. Sam liked to brush it, which was good because I didn’t. I think it was soothing for him or something, but that’s probably why he keeps his hair long now.”

Dean’s rambling. She knows she is and she’s doing it on purpose because she doesn’t want to say what comes next. Cas’s eyes are fixed on her, but Dean’s not taking her eyes off the road. She could stop talking, change the subject, or give an easy answer. But if she doesn’t tell Cas right now, she’ll never tell anyone. And it’ll just keep festering and rotting inside of her.

“Dad would run his hands through my hair and tell me how pretty I was when he was drunk. It creeped me out, always made my skin crawl. He never… you know… did anything. He’d look at me the same way he looked at old pictures of Mom. I know it’s not true, or at least I don’t believe it’s true, but I feel like he only saw Mom when he looked at me. I wasn’t his daughter, I was the ghost of his dead wife. A ghost that he couldn’t salt and burn.

“And he treated me like I was going to go up in flames like Mom. For god’s sake, Sam learned to shoot a gun before I did! Dad wouldn’t take me on hunts, wouldn’t train me because if I was alive he could pretend she was too. One day I couldn’t take it anymore. I stole Dad’s clippers and buzzed my head.

“And boy, was Dad mad.” Dean winces, squeezing the steering wheel until her knuckles turn white. “He was really mad. But suddenly, he didn’t care if I went up in flames. He put a gun in my hands and took me on hunts. And it felt amazing.”

Dean smiles at the memory of the first time Dad clapped her on the back and bought her a slice of pie after a successful hunt. She can still feel that warm swell of pride after her first ghost, first vampire, first demon.

“My hair started growing out and it looked bad, like so bad. But Dad started hiding his clippers so I just had to let it grow out. Then one day he dropped me and Sam off at Bobby’s place and he took one look at me and gave me my first crew cut.”

Dean looks at herself in the rearview mirror. It’s kind of embarrassing that she’s had the same haircut since she was fifteen, but if it ain’t broke. “I remember looking at myself in the mirror and thinking, that’s me. I didn’t look like Mom anymore, I was just me for the first time.”

Dean feels wetness on her cheek and realizes that she’s crying. They’re not tears of sadness but of relief. Man, it feels so good to get all that off her chest. But still, she always ends up crying around Cas and she really can’t make a habit out of this.

“Thank you for telling me that, Dean.” Cas’s eyes aren’t trained on Dean but on his own reflection in the windshield. “I suppose I just have one more question.”

Dean shakes her head but smiles. Might as well continue this chick-flick moment. “Go ahead.”

“How does Dorothy shorten to Dean?” Cas tilts his head. “I’m unfamiliar with the nuances of human languages.”

Dean laughs at that, a good hard laugh that echoes through the car. “It doesn’t, not really.” Dean claps a hand on Cas’s shoulder, unable to stop grinning. “Sam was a little shit when I buzzed my head and he called me random boy names to get under my skin. I always liked those old cowboy movies so, whenever we’d play cowboys, Sam called me James Dean. The joke stuck and now I’m just Dean.”

“Huh,” Cas says, “you’ll have to show me those movies sometime. I’ve never seen a movie.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Cas,” Dean says, “we’ll have a girls’ night, paint our nails and watch cowboy movies.”

He’s joking but Cas doesn’t get jokes. “I would like to do this girls' night with you.” That’s a hint of an excited smile on Cas’s face and it makes Dean’s heart flutter. In the same way that puppies or babies make her heart flutter, of course.

“It’s getting late,” Cas says, turning towards Dean, “you should stop and get some rest.”

Dean shakes her head and sighs. It is late, really late, and she’d kill for a bed right now. “Wish I could Cas, but there aren’t exactly a lot of motels around.”

Cas frowns, furrowing his eyebrows. “I could drive,” he says after a moment of thinking, “and you can sleep in the backseat.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow. “You ever driven before?”

“No,” Cas says, “but I’m an angel of the lord, it can’t be that hard.”

“Tell you what,” Dean chuckles, “you give me an angel blade, and I’ll let you drive.”

“Dean, we’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

…

When God created the angels he named them. Each name was unique and divine, but it also gave God power over the angels. The angels did not have the power to create, to choose so they took the names with gratitude. When Lucifer rebelled, he took new names: Satan, Morning Star, The Evil One, and many others. Castiel has not rebelled against God, just against heaven. When he finds God all will be set right. Castiel is keeping his name as a promise. He has not fallen…just questioning.

Castiel may see the importance of names, but the Winchesters do not. Sam is not Samuel, the name his mother gave him to honor his grandfather, he’s Sam or Sammy, or a million other strange words that Dean hurls at him. Dean is not Dorthy, the name her father gave her to honor her grandmother, she’s Dean. Cas is not Castiel anymore, he’s Cas and so much more.

Dean’s been calling Castiel Cas since their second meeting, it’s just a shortened version of his name; it��s not a big deal. But then… Cas is sitting in a diner with the Winchesters late one night, trying to track down the horsemen. The siblings are eating burgers and Cas has one in front of him too. He doesn’t need to eat, he's an angel, but he’s curious. He’s curious about a lot of things lately.

“Pass the ketchup, Cassie,” Dean says through a mouthful of food.

“What?” Cas looks up from contemplating his burger to stare at Dean.

“I said pass the ketchup?” Dean frowns, but then just reaches across Cas’s chest to grab the bottle at the end of the table. “Never mind, I got it.”

“No-” Cas swallows nervously “-I mean what did you call me?”

Dean and Sam put down their food and exchange glances. “...Cassie?” Dean says slowly.

Cas still doesn’t understand facial expressions. Humans read so far into a tiny movement of facial muscles. So he keeps his face very still. When Castiel was just a fledgling, Gabriel, Balthazar, and the other older angels would call him Cassie. Fledglings weren’t ready for the full responsibility of their names, so it made sense. But Gabriel continued to call him that well into his adulthood. It was sweet, made Cas feel seen and seen by someone so powerful and important as an archangel. And then Lucifer fell and angels got much more serious about names.

“It’s like Sammy,” Dean says, awkwardly bumping her shoulder into Cas, “are you good with that?”

Cas looks between Dean and Sam, unsure of what to say. He’s created tension, he can feel it, but he’s not sure how to fix it.

“Hey don’t worry about it, Cas,” Sam says a little too loudly, “you’re a grown man and it’s weird to be called something like Cassie or Sammy.” He shoots a tight-lipped frown at Dean.

“Bitch.” Dean reaches across the table to steal fries off Sam’s plate.

“Jerk!” Sam attempts to swat Dean’s hand away, but misses and Dean ends up trying to stick her tongue out at Sam and eat fries at the same time.

“I’m not a man, I’m an angel,” Cas says, looking toward Sam. “But, it’s fine,” he says, mostly to prevent any more petty squabbling. The nickname is a sign of sibling affection, both in heaven and on earth. It doesn’t matter that the way Dean said it makes his heart race and his mind reel. “Cassie is fine.”

“Well, Cassie-” Dean smiles at him “-are you going to eat that?” She doesn’t wait for a response, just snatches the burger off his plate.

And the things Dean calls him only got worse from there.

…

When Cas first met Dean, she accused him of being a “prince charming” and at the time Cas wasn’t sure what that meant, but he’s starting to get the picture. Something about saving someone only to be rewarded with a relationship. That’s not Cas.

He’s in the far corners of the globe looking for God, when he hears Dean’s voice. It’s a quiet voice in his head, but it is powerful and desperate. A prayer. Cas is close to God, he can feel it. If he just keeps going a little longer, he’ll finally make it. But Dean’s voice is in the back of his mind, calling, pleading.

Cas flies to Dean without another second of hesitation. As he gets closer, the details of the situation flood into his mind in an instant. From a human perspective, Dean and Sam are in the basement of an abandoned mansion, surrounded by people, baring gruesome smiles with knives and fists drawn. From Cas’s perspective, Dean and Sam’s souls shine in a haze of demon smog. Dean’s the brightest, familiar in it’s golden hue.

“Cas, we could use some angel mojo down hear!” Dean shouts, voice thick with blood. “...Please!”

The demons laugh like in a chorus of gnashing teeth. One steps forward, kicking Sam—who’s barely clinging to consciousness on the floor—as he moves to grab the front of Dean’s shirt.

“Scream all you like, little girl,” the demon whispers, his breath hot against Dean’s face. “The angels don’t take calls from the likes of you.”

Cas appears suddenly, hand on the demon’s head, smiting the creature inside its meat suit. Dean actually smiles when she sees him, not even looking at the shell of the demon that falls to the floor.

“You came,” She says, unaware that it holds the same power as a prayer.

Another round of hideous laughter comes from the gaggle of demons. “Oh, how the mighty fall,” another demon cackles.

Cas’s stomach drops. He’s not fallen, he’s still doing God’s will. How can protecting Dean not be his purpose?

“Dean Winchester,” the demon continues, “damsel in distress waiting for a prince to save her.”

Dean, despite three broken ribs, a twisted ankle, and several lost liters of blood, sprints at the demon, burying the knife in his chest. She moves to attack the next closest one, limping as the adrenaline wanes. Even so, she’s a machine and Cas watches her with aw.

“Cas,” Dean shouts, “a little help here!”

Cas bolts into action, smiting demons almost as fast as Dean can stab them. Once they’ve killed all the demons, Cas stands with his arms pressed to his side, watching Dean pull her knife from the final demon’s throat.

“I’m sorry,” Cas says.

Dean places a hand on her chest, cradling her broken ribs. “For what? You totally saved our asses there.”

“I do not wish to belittle you,” Cas says, “what that demon said, if I ever—”

“Can it, princess,” Dean says, “it wouldn’t be the first time a demon tried to get under my skin.”

Cas nods then steps forward with his hand raised to heal Dean. She nods back and that’s all the permission he needs to press his fingers to her forehead, healing her instantly.

Sam groans from the floor.

Dean jumps away from Cas, staring at her brother. “Umm, maybe take care of him too.”

“Yes, please,” Sam gasps, weakly wiping blood from his mouth.

Cas leans down, healing Sam as well. Sam stumbles to his feet, glaring at Cas. 

“Did you seriously heal her first?” Sam scoffs. “After she called you princess?”

“I did not!” Dean says.

“You totally did,” Sam says. “Cas, you’re just going to take that?”

Cas cast his eyes downward. He didn’t take any insult from it, but it seems he should have. “I am still unaware of human social rules, but Dean has made it clear that I am not to be her prince charming.”

“Yeah don’t be friggin’ sexist, Sammy.” Dean walks over, swinging an arm around Cas’s shoulder. “Cas is our princess in shining armor.”

“I believe I am wearing a trench coat.”

After the incident, Dean teases Cas by calling him princess. It’s just another nickname that makes its way into the many the Winchesters use for him. For the first month, Sam tries to get Dean to cut it out, but eventually, he gives up. Cas thought that Dean would drop it once it no longer annoyed her brother. It’s only when he has this thought does he realizes he doesn’t want her to stop. 

But she never does.

…

“Hey, angel,” Dean greets, shoving his shoulder the same way he shoves Sam.

“I don’t understand,” Cas says, “I do not call you human.”

“She’s flirting with you,” Sam shouts from over the impala.

“Bitch,” Dean shouts back.

“Jerk.”

Cas looks down at his vessel. He doesn’t like it being called angel, there is nothing divine about this meat suit—as Dean so often calls it—it simply carries his grace while he’s on earth.

“Cas? Earth to Cas? Cas?”

Cas startles, looking up to realize he had tuned out another Winchester argument. “What?”

“You don’t mind when I call you angel, right?” Dean says with a smirk. “You think I’m funny right?”

Cas stares into Dean’s eyes, swallowing thickly. A part of him knows—no, hopes that Dean does not see his body as him. Perhaps she knows better than anyone that what body one happens to inhabit does not define them.

“I don’t mind your nicknames, Dean,” Cas says, “but I do not find them funny.”

…

“Dean, I feel ridiculous,” Cas says through the door.

Dean waits in the hallway outside of Cas’s room.

“No you don’t,” she says, “you’re just worried I’ll think you like ridiculous.”

“What’s the difference?”

Dean chuckles at that, shaking her head.

“How do you feel, Cas?”

The door opens and Cas steps out.

“...I feel good,” she says.

She’s dressed much the same way she did when she thought she had to present her vessel as a man. But now with all the angels locked in heaven and Cas is very human, her body isn’t a vessel. It’s her. They’ve traded the slacks for a pencil skirt and nylon tights and replaced the shirt and tie with a white blouse. She’s been growing her hair out since she turned human, mostly by accident, it’s still not as long as she’d like it, but it will be. Dean’s been helping her get a smooth shave every morning and showing her what lotions to use to keep her skin soft. But Dean was never great at being a girl, so what perfume and makeup to use has been left to Google. They’re working on getting her on HRT, but it’s not like they have insurance. They have also considered a couple of spells too.

And she’s still wearing the same trench coat.

“How do I look?” Cas asks.

Dean steps forward, taking her hands in hers. She plants a kiss on her lips, soft and sweet with lipgloss.

“Like a baby in a trench coat,” Dean says, “my baby.”

[himitsusentaiblog]

Japanese Media that Helped Me Come Out

Hey, I wanted to make a post about the shows and movies from Japan that really helped me come to terms with my identity and made me more comfortable with coming out (even if I had a few early aborted comings out before I had real support). Before I begin, a special shoutout has to be given to Ranma 1/2, the first anime I ever saw that involved gender changing content.

I think one of the first foundationally important bits of media for me was Sailor Moon, the original animated series. Or more specifically season 5, Bishouji Senshi Sailor Moon Sailor Stars. This is a series I watched shortly after the episodes aired in four episode blocks at a time on rented VHS tapes from a local Japanese Electronics Store in Dallas, Texas. (R.I.P. Orbit Electronics).

For those not familiar with the series, this season introduces three major new heroic characters, the Sailor Starlights. In their civilian identities they are a boys idol group called The Three Lights and go by the names Seiya, Yaten and Taiki but in their heroic identities they are three women named Sailor Star Fighter, Sailor Star Healer and Sailor Star Maker.

The idea of three women hiding themselves in the guise of men was so fascinating to me and spoke to something deep down inside of me. This may be the reason why Sailor Stars is the series I decided to purchase on Laserdisc back when it was coming out.

The second major anime series from this time that was foundational for my exploration of who I am was 1997's Shoujo Kakumei Utena.

This is a series all about defying societal expectations especially of gender roles and sexuality. It's an amazing if sometimes very couched in metaphor and symbolism coming of age story about a young woman who refuses to conform to her expected role and seeks to become a Prince to defend others. It also contains dialogue like this:

Which, if you are familiar with Trans terminology just holds so much extra meaning. For those who do not know, trans people who have not come out yet are often referred to as eggs, as in they have not come out of their shell yet. Lastly is probably both the most obvious and most ridiculous entry here. the 1999 Rock and Roll, Zombie, Alien Invasion film Wild Zero. This is a movie about the rock band Guitar Wolf, their biggest fan Ace and a zombie apocalypse started by aliens (think Plan 9 from Outer Space but somehow even more wild and ridiculous and with an amazing soundtrack). In the movie, Ace meets and falls in love with a beautiful girl named Tobio.

However, as Ace discovers, Tobio has a penis. This causes him to have a bit of a crisis until his idol, Guitar Wolf appears before him in a bathroom to bestow these words of wisdom upon him.

So yeah, this movie helped me in some very strange ways when it came to accepting who I really am, even if it took YEARS for me to finally crack my shell for real and come out publicly. So, thanks for reading this and thanks for all of your support.

[somebodycall911onabc]

Spoon me, you idiot

Post ep4x13 Buddie because my brain is just that episode on loop. Hands up if you're not ready for the season 4 finale, folks. Have some cuddling and love confessions in the meantime.

Buck helps Eddie over the threshold with one hand at Eddie’s elbow and the other pressed against his hip. Eddie’s fine, he’s fine, he’s alive, but he’s exhausted. Pain and shock weigh down his shoulders, make him unsteady on his feet.

Carla breathes in sharply at the sight of him. Then she’s stepping forward, folding Eddie into a soft embrace, pulling his head down cheek to cheek with hers. Buck drags his eyes away from his living, breathing, living friend to find Chris, who’s lying on the couch with his glasses askew, mouth open in sleep. Buck’s heart clenches like a fist. He’s going to remember Chris’s haunted, horrified expression for the rest of his life, the light dying in Chris’s eyes as Buck had to tell him… had to tell him that his dad wasn’t coming home that night.

Buck walks over to Chris and kneels down beside him. He’s pretty sure it’s the first time Chris has slept since he heard about it. The first time in more than 48 hours that the kid’s closed his eyes. Buck brushes the curls back from Chris’s forehead, trying to be gentle, not wanting to wake him.

Eddie gets down next to Buck, their knees pressing together. Buck feels the shudder that runs down Eddie’s spine, feels it echoed in his soul. Buck isn’t the religious type, but he feels like this is another miracle. Years after his first brush with death, Eddie coming home once again to his son.

With a hand on Chris’s shoulder, Eddie murmurs, “hey, my little Superman. Chris, I’m here.”

Chris’s eyes open slowly, reluctantly, until he sees his dad’s face and wakes up all at once.

“Dad!” Chris shouts, hands flying up to attach themselves to Eddie’s face. “Dad!”

Eddie’s smiling, huffing out laughter in pure, unadulterated joy at seeing his son’s delighted expression. Chris is grinning and whooping, falling forward to curl himself into his dad’s chest. Eddie lifts one arm to hold Chris close and buries his face in Chris’s hair.

Buck blinks back tears, feeling relief crash over him. He rubs his eyes and starts to get to his feet, wanting to give the Diaz boys some space, until he feels a tug on his shirt. Eddie’s hand twists in the fabric. He’s not even looking at Buck, head tucked against the curve of Chris’s skull. Buck sinks back down and tentatively puts his arms around the both of them, Chris’s knobbly spine and Eddie’s strong back, his cheek brushing Eddie’s forehead. Buck lets out a breath that trembles like an earthquake.

It feels like home. It feels impossible. It’s what he’s always wanted. It feels like something Buck isn’t allowed to have.

When they finally let go of each other, what could be a minute or a year later, Buck notices Carla standing at the end of the couch. She’s smiling fondly at all of them, and Buck realizes abruptly that this is the first time he’s seen her since the pandemic started. He gets up—although it’d be more fair to say he tears himself away—and moves toward her, and there’s always been something magic about Carla because she takes one look at him and she knows.

“I missed you,” Buck says, his nose smashed into her chin. She’s hugging him like she’s trying to pack Buck down tight and snug him into a little box where she can keep him safe. Or maybe that’s just Buck’s wishful thinking. He’s so goddamn tired.

“I missed you too, Buckaroo,” Carla says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Buck swallows the lump in his throat her tenderness causes.

She pulls away and very gently pats his cheek, looking Buck in the eye. “He needs you, you hear?” She whispers, holding that eye contact like she’s bet money on a staring competition. “Take care of each other.”

Buck can only nod.

She lets go of him and Buck shakes himself into standing straight, even though he’d much rather crumple to the floor. But he needs to get Eddie and Chris to bed, he needs to figure out what’s still edible in the kitchen and take out the trash, he needs to call the pharmacy for Eddie’s meds and the station for Eddie’s med leave, he needs to—

“Alright boys, get some rest.” Buck blinks and Carla comes back into focus. She’s addressing all of them, voice firm. “I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow to help out.”

“Thank you, Carla,” Eddie says.

“No need for that.” She bends down to give Eddie a quick hug, and Buck hears her tell him, “just try not to get on the bad side of any more sniper-rifle-wielding nut jobs, alright?”

Eddie’s reply is somewhere between a laugh and a choked-back sob.

Buck walks Carla to the door. Before she leaves, she looks at him, sharp-eyed and commanding again. “You call me if you need anything. Anything. You look just as bad as he does.”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks, Carla.”

She narrows her eyes at him, but this is what Buck has always been best at. He wades through the hurt and the pain and just keeps going. He gives her a tight smile, reminds himself that he wasn’t the one shot (no, just the one sprayed with Eddie’s blood, he can still feel it on his skin, still taste it on his lips), and closes the door behind her.

Getting Chris and Eddie to bed is easy. Buck lifts Chris up, carries him to Eddie’s room, and pulls the covers over both the Diaz boys. Eddie tries to catch Buck’s eye while Buck leaves the room, but if Buck stops moving then he’s not sure when or if he’ll start again. Buck pulls the bedroom door most of the way closed, leaving a tiny crack in case Eddie or Chris need him in the night.

In the kitchen, the clock on the stove informs him that it’s just past 9 pm. It’s jarringly early. It feels like time doesn’t really exist, that he’s been moving in a place defined by the hours since Eddie dropped, the hours since Eddie went into surgery, the hours since Eddie woke up.

Buck opens the fridge and looks into it without seeing anything, like when you’re reading only to realize that three pages have gone by without you remembering a single word. He closes the fridge door and opens it again, and oh, there’s the carton of milk and bottle of ketchup on the top shelf, the egg carton down to its last egg, a container of left-over fried rice from… was it yesterday? Buck folds back the top flap and sniffs it, decides it will be fine for one of the boys to eat when they get up.

He closes the fridge and investigates the pantry next. Two boxes of spaghetti, a can of beans, three cans of chicken noodle soup, an unopened bag of quinoa that is probably the result of Ana because Buck’s not sure Eddie has ever heard of quinoa—like he’s taking inventory of the truck. Thermal blankets, C-spine collar kit, 3L of sterile water, 3L sodium chloride, hug-a-bear. The 118 has a blue elephant courtesy of Athena. Buck could honestly really use it right now.

Buck runs a hand through his hair and pulls out his phone, planning to make a grocery list. He sees two missed calls from Bobby and eight from Maddie. One from Chim. Hen texted him at 4pm: How you holding up?

Buck very slowly puts the phone down.

He takes a step back and grips the edge of the kitchen counter. Breathe, Buck, he thinks. Just breathe.

His vision is spotty when he opens his eyes, like he’d shut them too tight. He doesn’t remember shutting them. It doesn’t matter. Buck finds a scrap of paper in the recycling bin and a pen from the junk drawer and writes a list. It’s late, so he’ll go to the grocery store in the morning, early, make sure breakfast is on the table for when Eddie and Chris get up. Oh fuck, does he have a shift tomorrow? What day is it?

Buck puts down the pen and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t stand here and pretend like he can take care of Eddie because he can’t stop seeing Eddie die. It’s in the back of his head every moment, it’s what he sees every time he closes his eyes, it’s the memory rewritten by his cells as they multiply and decay, it’s in his fucking genome now or whatever they call it—

it’s in the air he breathes, the reminder that for a moment that lasted an eternity, Eddie’s heart had stopped beating.

It’s a loud silence. Deafening.

Buck thinks, take a breath before you pass out, idiot.

Buck thinks, get a glass of water and pull yourself together.

Buck thinks, your best friend just got shot, you don’t have time for this bullshit.

Buck peels his hands away from the counter slowly, carefully, like if he makes one wrong move he’ll come away with flayed palms. He pours himself a glass of water and makes himself drink the whole thing. He picks up the list he wrote and reads it over and over and over. He thinks: what do I know is true? I’m standing in Eddie’s kitchen. I’m alive. Eddie is alive. And: I should get carrots.

Buck hiccups. Carrots—fucking—

No. Get it together. DAMN IT, Buck!

Buck bites the inside of his cheek until it bleeds and does not add carrots to the grocery list. Because apparently they cause emotional breakdowns, and Buck can’t afford one.

He puts himself to work. He ties the trash bag and then he wipes down the counters, and then he unties the trash bag to throw some paper towels in. He transfers the dishes from the sink to the dishwasher, quiet as he can, and locates a broom at the back of Eddie’s hall closet to sweep the floor.

When he’s emptying the dust pan into the trash (he’d tied and untied the bag again, but nobody’s counting, so what does it matter), Eddie says: “Are you OK?”

Buck jumps at least three feet in the air. He’s got the quads for it.

“Hey!” Buck whisper-shouts, turning to face Eddie. “What are you doing up?”

“Was wondering where you were.”

“Uh,” Buck looks around at the spotless kitchen and the broom in his hand. “Just, you know. Thought I’d be of service.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at him. “Buck, the last thing I’m worried about is the state of my kitchen.”

“Right. That’s why I’m taking care of it. You know, so you don’t uh. You don’t have to.”

“OK.” Eddie squints at him like maybe a closer look will explain why Buck is sweeping his kitchen at 9:45pm three days after he got shot in the street in broad daylight. Buck sincerely hopes he doesn’t figure it out. He leans the broom against the counter and clips the dust pan to it in a rare display of tidiness. The pan slides down the broom handle until it hits the floor.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

Buck shrugs.

“Answer, please.”

God, what a dad.

(Not that Buck would know.)

“Uh… I think I got a few hours while you were in surgery.”

“That was two days ago, Buck,” Eddie says, frowning at him. “You look like a stiff breeze could knock you over.”

“Well, we’re inside.”

“Why are you being so stubborn? You need to sleep.”

“I’m just not really feeling it,” Buck says, folding his arms and resting his hip against the counter.

“Not giving you a choice,” Eddie says, looking extra grumpy because he can’t fold his arms. Unless you count the one in a sling as folded.

“I’m fine, Eddie. Don’t worry about me. You should be with Christopher.”

Eddie lifts his hand to his face and rubs his temples.

“Buck,” he says, “the only thing I need you to do right now is come to bed.”

“But I—“

“Come to bed, Buck.”

And it’s the repetition. It’s the look in Eddie’s eyes like a slow, early flame: the promise of a fire.

Buck’s throat is very, very dry.

“I… yeah. OK.”

Eddie gives him a small smile. Buck’s reeling. Because here’s the thing—they’ve shared a bed before. They’ve shared a too-small bunk at the station and a backseat and even a beanbag once (courtesy of a very poor decision on Buck’s part, but at least Chris likes it). But it’s always been “just bros.” It’s always been necessity. It’s been about efficiency and familiarity. Which maybe Buck is reading this all wrong and snuggling up with your best friend and his son after a near-death experience is totally no homo but… come to bed. Come to bed. Like it’s their bed. Like Buck belongs there.

Buck’s ears are ringing while he follows Eddie down the hallway to his bedroom. Their bedroom? He’s losing it.

The hallway light illuminates a strip of the room as they step inside. Buck can see Chris tucked in the sheets, curled into the rumpled spot where Eddie slid out to fetch Buck. This has to mean something, right? They’ve been dancing around and on the edge of something for so long, Buck doesn’t know how to interpret anything anymore. He loves Eddie, though. And probably the only way he’ll sleep right now is if Eddie’s in arm’s reach. So it doesn’t really matter what this is, because Buck will take any scrap of Eddie he can get, not just tonight, but always.

Eddie slips into the bed and scoots forward, leaving a space behind for Buck. Chris makes a heavy, sleepy sound and turns his head into his dad’s shoulder. Carefully, so, so carefully, Buck lowers himself onto the bed and fills the space Eddie made for him.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks, exasperated.

Buck blinks at the ceiling. “What?”

“Idiot,” Eddie mutters. “Spoon me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Buck, this bed is small enough as it is with one person. I know you’re hanging half off it right now.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

“Call it intuition,” Eddie says, dry as the desert.

Buck gingerly turns on his side, his chest just a breath away from Eddie’s back. “I…” He swallows. “Where should I put my arm?”

“Buck, you must have done this before.”

“That’s your bad arm, Eds.”

Eddie shifts a little, his calf coming into contact with Buck’s shin. Buck breaks into a cold sweat.

“Shit, well… under the sling, then. Around my waist?”

Dry, dry, his throat is so dry.

Buck lifts his arm up and drapes it over Eddie’s waist. He shuffles in closer, pressing them together from head to toe. His nose is in Eddie’s hair, his dick is nestled in the curve of Eddie’s ass, his ankles are knocking into Eddie’s. Buck feels like he might reverberate out of his skin.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather have Ana here?” Buck whispers. His mouth is like, one inch from Eddie’s ear.

Eddie turns his head a little, so his ear actually brushes Buck’s lip. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie says, “There’s no one in this world I want here more than you.”

Buck stutters on his next breath.

“I wish it’d been me,” he says, suddenly. Eddie has to know. Eddie probably already knows. Buck’s grateful, so goddamn grateful, that Eddie survived. And sure, part of it is that self-deprecating shit he’s been working through with this therapist: Eddie has more to live for, Eddie has a kid, Eddie is a better man than I’ll ever be. But mostly, it’s far simpler than that.

If Eddie had died, the sniper may as well have shot Buck too. Because Buck doesn’t know how to live without Eddie. He’d found that out ages ago, when he lost Eddie under fifty feet of mud and water.

Eddie’s next words are nearly a growl. “The only good thing to come out of all this,” he says, “is that you didn’t get hurt.”

“What are you—“

“After it happened, when I was… when I was lying there, I—I looked at you. I looked at you, Buck, and I was terrified. Not because I might die, but because if I did, who was going to protect you? Who was going to keep a sniper off your self-sacrificing, heroic ass, and make sure someone came home to Chris? Who was—“ Eddie cut himself off with a sigh. “I was worried about you.”

Buck feels like… like an unbroken, empty tundra. Like a fried electric socket. Like someone dropped him to the very bottom of a very deep well.

“Eddie, Eddie I—“

“Shh,” Eddie murmurs, as Buck shakes apart. As he bends his head to hide his tears in the nape of Eddie’s neck. As he bites his tongue to stay quiet and not wake Chris up. Eddie presses backward into Buck’s hold. “I know, I know.”

“I can’t lose you,” Buck grits out between several halting breaths.

“You won’t,” Eddie says.

“I almost did.”

“You had my back.” Buck’s throat makes an awful, wheezing sound as he fights a losing battle against crying. “You got me out of there. You saved me.”

“I love you,” Buck says, losing the fight against that too.

“Buck… I…” Eddie sounds like someone knocked the wind out of him.

“Sorry,” Buck hurries to say, chest icing over with panic. “Sorry I just—“

“I love you,” Eddie interrupts. “I do. I know it took me a long time to realize, but… I’ve been in love with you, Buck.”

“Oh my god,” Buck says. I mean, what else do you say to that? No wonder Eddie froze up. Buck is in shock. “Is this real?”

“I hope so,” Eddie says. “And if it isn’t, then I’ll just have to tell you when we wake up.”

Buck feels fit to burst with more emotions than he can name. Relief, joy, fear, disbelief, pin-prickly. It feels like another miracle.

“Deal,” Buck says. And places a kiss to the fatal, devastating spot behind Eddie’s ear.

Eddie is the first thing Buck sees when he wakes up. “Good morning” are the first words he hears.

And then:

“Just so you know, I love you.”

[j4gm]

Obsidian lore thread!

Sharing this thread of lore, episode connections, and Easter eggs from Adventure Time: Distant Lands: Obsidian, originally written for my Twitter.

SPOILERS AHEAD, WATCH OBSIDIAN ON HBO MAX IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY

Keep reading for the full thread!

1) We've seen bombs scattered around the Land of Ooo before, but this is the first time we've seen the word "fission", confirming that they are nukes. Although we have seen the radiation roundel plenty of times so it's pretty obvious.

2) The "magic lightning" that created the Glass Kingdom could itself have been one of the nukes. Alternatively, it could have been the catalyst comet, although Finn has no connection to this place so that's probably not the case.

3) The subtitles for the first four minutes video suggested that Glassboy was saying "crap" here. However, the HBO Max subtitles confirm he is actually saying "crack".

4) All of Marceline's classic furniture is present, but Bubblegum's influence is very visible; a doily on the couch, a flask underneath, new barstools from the Candy Kingdom, and the pink lamp in the bedroom, just to name a few examples.

5) Lady Rainicorn slippers. That is all.

6) Chocoberry on the cover of a magazine. Looks like she's been dipped in white chocolate for this shoot.

7) This is the first time we've seen Choose Goose since he appeared as "Achoos Goose" in the Elements miniseries. Last time we saw his normal form was all the way back in season five's "Blade of Grass", nearly seven years ago. Is it weird that Choose Goose was the first thing in the episode to make me cry?

8) It appears that Princess Bubblegum has not rebuilt the Gumball Guardians since they were destroyed in the battle against GOLB.

9) There are lots of familiar candy people in and around the tavern, from a variety of seasons, including Kenneth, Dirt Beer Guy, Cherry Cream Soda, a Banana Guard 500, Lollipop Girl, and Smudge.

10) Simon is of course singing "Remember You". He is also using the omnichord that was used in that episode. Interestingly, this suggests he might remember some of his experiences as the Ice King.

11) This isn't the first time Dirt Beer Guy's tavern has hosted an open mic night. He also held one in "Son of Rap Bear", and even used the same banner, although it's looking a little tattered and worn out now.

12) Simon doesn't look any older than he did in the finale. This might mean that Betty's wish made him immortal, or it simply might not have been long enough for him to visibly age.

13) This is the oversized shirt given to Marceline by her father in the episode "Marcy & Hunson". It's looking a little faded these days.

14) Bubblegum's outfit is of a similar style to the one in "The Vault", but it's not the same. The fact she's not wearing her amulet might suggest this flashback takes place after "The Vault", but nothing is known for certain.

15) There are gravestones outside Marceline's house, but these actually aren’t new. They previously appeared in “Go With Me”. So don’t worry, these don’t belong to Jake or anything like that.

16) Simon's coping mechanism would be funny if it wasn't so sad. It's going to be a long time before he fully recovers. On a lighter note, the magnets on the fridge say "M PB" which is pretty cute.

17) This is our first time seeing the outside of Elise's van. We previously saw the interior in "Everything Stays". Also, we learned from the credits and subtitles that her name is Elise!

18) Previously, it wasn't known whether or not Elise survived the Mushroom War. Turns out she did... but not for long. It's also now unclear whether the flashback from "Everything Stays" happened before or after the war.

19) A nice little timeline detail: Marceline travelling with her mother for a while explains the awkward two year gap between the Mushroom War and the events of "Simon & Marcy".

20) Here's a comparison of the parts of Marceline's song that got corrupted into the current version. The Glass People got really obsessed with the idea of the song being about coconuts for some reason.

21) PB yelling "Scree!" to summon the Morrow is a callback all the way to the season two episode "Death in Bloom", which is when the Morrow made their debut.

22) Disease is added to the long list of things that helped wipe out humanity. I wonder if this disease is related to the one that Hugo and his crew gave to the grays in the BMO special. I also wonder if Marceline is immune thanks to her demon half.

23) The mutant puppy was able to say the word "wassup". Perhaps this is a halfway stage to the talking animals that now populate the Land of Ooo.

24) Turns out Marceline discovered her demon powers before she defeated the Fool. This is the first appearance of these kinds of soulless husks since "It Came From the Nightosphere" in season two.

25) This is the first new candy power we've seen Princess Bubblegum use since she learned how to create mints and soda in "Jelly Beans Have Power".

26) Marceline not caring about the glass people is very in line with her personality in the early seasons, such as when she was happy to let her father suck souls as long as she got her bass back.

27) No Easter egg here, just an extremely good image.

28) Here's the screenshot leaked by Adam Muto last month. Like the gas station in "Bonnibel Bubblegum", the graffiti here tells an interesting story. Seems like the Land of Ooo had a bit of a Mad Max phase while the humans were still around.

29) This is (as far as I know) only the second time an Adventure Time character has ever been shown bleeding. The first was the heart monster in "The Enchiridion", but that was a lot less realistic.

30) The fact that humans survived long enough to construct a whole Fallout-style bunker confirms that the near-extinction of humanity wasn't a quick process. It makes you wonder whether any other groups made it, besides the Islanders.

31) Apart from this being one of the darkest scenes in the entire show, I like the background detail of bank notes being used as toilet paper.

32) Marceline grew up blaming herself for her mother leaving, and says she is like her dad. It sounds like Elise has told Marceline a bit about Hunson Abadeer, and is scared and angry at him.

33) This actually isn't the first time Marceline's bass has been broken. She also snapped the handle during her fight with the Vampire King. However, it's never been completely shattered like this.

34) This might be a reference to the Hall of Egress. That's the only other time we've heard Bubblegum use that word.

35) Confirmation that Princess Bubblegum doesn't have bones. I guess that counts as lore?

36) The gag of the Banana Guards slipping over each other was also done in "The Thin Yellow Line" and probably some other episodes I'm forgetting.

37) Jake’s granddaughter Bronwyn is certainly an unexpected appearance. I wonder what affiliation she has with the main cast now?

38) And of course... FINN! I would estimate he's aged about five to ten years since the finale, but it's hard to tell with Adventure Time's style. He looks younger than he did in Puhoy's alternate future.

39) Lots of people have been theorising that the tattoo implies that something unfortunate has happened to Jake. Perhaps we'll get to know more about that in Together Again. Let's not dwell on it for now.

40) A canon origin story for the shirt, plus a Bubbline first meeting! This overrides the P.B. & Marcy comic, and re-contextualises a whole bunch of the old Bubbline episodes!

That’s all for now! Let me know if you can think of anything I missed!

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars • 10

Pairings: Sirius Black x [F]Reader, Remus Lupin x [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors, introducing more Marlene, unreliable narrative-ish Author’s notes: Ngl, I had to rush this one.

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 9: One Hundred and Fifty Points

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

November rolled around signifying the start of the new Quidditch season. Inside the great hall was flooded with the smell of sausages and fried eggs along with the cheerful chatter of students looking forward to the first match.

Gryffindor and Slytherin were the first teams set to play and their relationship had never been so tense until now; even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who liked to join in on the playful raillery decided not to participate.

Whenever a Gryffindor was to pass by the Slytherin table to get to their respective seats or simply walk through the entrance, a hassle of insults and boos would follow and vice versa.

While both houses had their own tactics to mess with each other, the Slytherins had tactics that transpired off the pitch and were brought into daily life. It was a smart move, and some of the newer Gryffindor players allowed it to bother them even before stepping foot onto the field. The insults built over the past couple of years, largely because Gryffindor had yet to lose a single game since James joined the team a little over three years ago.

And since James was newly appointed captain, they were relentless.

In the days leading up to the match, whenever Y/N accompanied James through the halls, whispers of childish remarks like, “I bet Potty is going to go to the potty after Talkalot throws him off his broom,” and other insults follow him, varying from his abilities or his capability to lead his team to victory.

Despite the relentless jeers, James managed to take them in stride, constantly donning a bright smile. Not once had it wavered him or chilled his blood. If anything, he took it as a compliment and even bounced off of it with a witty response. A few times, he even repeated the insult, announcing it loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear before turning the joke on them.

But today, he finally cracked. Marlene, who joined the team last year as a chaser, was beyond ecstatic while James’ smile was non-existent. It was fairly evident to everyone who knew him that his smile and body language faked confidence in an attempt to mask nervousness.

As his first year as captain, James had an extreme burden on his shoulders. Stakes were at an all-time high to continue the three-year-long title holder of the Quidditch cup. He was under a constant microscope. Everyone was curious to see how James led his team. Not only did he have to prove his abilities as a leader but was also in jeopardy of staying captain for next year. His status depended on these games.

Additionally, the potential loss would be devastating. James was not the first pick as captain for this year. Charlie Bell, a seventh year, was supposed to take his place with James coaching the year after he left, but Bell stepped down, preferring to spend his time focusing on NEWT revisions. Although due to his time studying, Bell’s abilities were admittedly sloppy and began to worry James as he was not up to his standards.

Although in Y/N’s (biased) opinion, James had nothing to worry about.

He insisted on daily practices ever since try-outs were held in early September. It was even hard to catch Marlene who’d been James’ left-hand man of sorts. Today, the two players woke up bright and early in preparation for the first game. They woke up at six o’clock in the morning, to Marlene’s dismay, and went for a light jog and a quick exercise. The rest of the Gryffindor team was there and went over their ground plan again.

Y/N had seen a few of their practices to support them and bring any food incase they missed breakfast or dinner. James was absolutely merciful. Like any good captain, he listened and attended to the needs of his players, but he held Marlene’s opinion higher than the rest.

Rumours floated around the two and she was excited to see if they held true. Both players had become great partners and were almost unstoppable on the field. Because of this, it was highly anticipated that Gryffindor was going to win, especially with how gruelling James’ coaching methods were compared to former captains. Bets were placed ranging from Knuts, Sickles and Galleons.

Due to the overwhelming pressure, James was at a loss for words, for once. His anxiety spiked and the only person who could talk any sense into was Marlene; both sharing an odd, yet special bond.

Even in the days leading up, Mcgonagall, who she’d found out was very gifted and a huge fan of the sport, took notice of his unusual and quiet behaviour. McGonagall let loose, avoiding giving out homework for the week. She had even opted to avoid giving James any.

It was quite clear McGonagall had a soft spot for the marauders, often letting them do as they pleased while at harshest, taking away house points and sparingly handing them detentions. James, of course, had been using this to his advantage as he pleaded to give the entire Gryffindor team no homework using the famous ‘but we have practice!’ excuse.

When she arrived in the hall with Dorcas, the moment they walked through the entrance, the Slytherin table booed in their direction but was rivalled with a thunderous welcome from the Gryffindor table. Everyone in sight wore red and gold.

James had a vice-grip on Quidditch Through the Ages while in the other hand, tried but failed, to shovel potatoes in his mouth. Marlene sat on his left, reviewing several techniques they could use last minute that the Slytherins may not expect coming. They were already wearing their jerseys. Plastered on Marlene’s chest in bright yellow was the number 6 while James was 7. Their uniforms were identical aside from the pin on James’ shirt that caught everyone’s attention. A shiny new captain’s badge sitting proudly on his chest.

Both were talking to each other rapidly, barely registering their friends sitting down beside them.

“Don’t be thick,” said Marlene, “This is going to work. Stop second-guessing.”

“I’m mental. Abso-fucking-bloody-mental … What was I thinking?”

“Potter,” she scolds, “get it together. Now, in about an hour, we’re going to be walking on the pitch. We’ve practiced for hours — days even — much more than the Slytherins have. You were made captain for a reason and we have back-up plans. We’re beyond ready.”

He sighs, taking a deep inhale. “Okay… Okay.”

Within a few seconds, the air around him shifts and James' assertive and authoritative side takes over. “What were you suggesting earlier?”

“We have to go underneath and cut them off. Trust me, they won’t expect it.”

“Where do you want me?”

“What broom model do you have?”

“Nimbus 1984.”

Marlene scoffs, “Should’ve known, Mr. ‘Trust fund’ Potter. Anyway, yours is the fastest and newest — ought to be the first one to cut ‘em. Lead the way.”

James stops to ponder before bobbing his head in agreement, “Sounds good, but Bell?”

“— do you think he can do it?”

“Not sure. Maybe he will once the rush comes — no — we can use him as a decoy then.”

The sudden uproar of cheers and boos of both Gryffindors and Slytherins attempting to drown each other reached the table’s ears again, James looked down at his lap. Even Marlene’s leg started bouncing up and down.

Lily was about to make a harmless jab before Marlene’s eyes shot up to her, shaking her head warningly.

James was truly losing his shit inside and out.

“Mental,” he grumbles out. He barely registers his body move on its own accord. Marlene followed his lead, getting up with him before his attention was drawn back to everyone in front of him.

“You coming, right? Gotta see my moves,” James tries to joke, looking at Y/N.

“She better or I’ll drag her onto the field.” Marlene cuts in. Judging by the burning look in her eyes, Marlene was far from joking.

“Of course I will.” She then directs the next sentence mostly to James, “You’re going to crush them.”

A nod of approval comes from both players. Marlene’s chest puffs out from the praise, even going as far to dramatically flick her hair over her shoulder while James seems to relax considerably.

“Of course we are. You are talking to the King of Quidditch.”

“Hem hem — and queen!”

“My bad — and queen. We’re going to win.” It was nice seeing his arrogant side back.

“Pff— that’s not even a question,” Marlene says, “I’d rather fling my body off a tower if we lose this game.”

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

At eleven o’clock sharp, the entire school sat in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. From there, she could smell the fresh-cut grass, filling the air as cold steel filtered through her lungs. It was refreshing and tickled the inside of her nose. The seats were raised high, a warming charm placed on them, courtesy of Flitwick.

Flakes of dewey frost coated the field and stands. The wind howled as a few brooms whipped back and forth, checking to see if everything was in proper condition before the start of the game. Unfortunately for the players, stormy grey clouds were raised high and there was a high risk of rain or snow. It surely was going to make catching the Golden Snitch harder.

All the girls were there to support Marlene. Lily and Dorcas went all out and brought a huge poster. Streaks of red and gold were painted underneath their eyes as leftover gold tinsel from the Halloween party was woven into Lily’s hair. Many other students also held large signs, waving flags; even Y/N and Mary had binoculars secured around their necks.

A large lion was charmed onto the sign, moving back and forth before opening its mouth to roar. In bold letters, it read Gryffindor’s Weapon, McKinnon! Dorcas placed another charm on so the letters interchanged between red and gold, flashing similar to a new-maj diner sign.

Madam Hooch stood in the middle of the pitch. In a flash, the two teams came out, shouldering their brooms in a single file line from two hidden doors beneath the stands. At the front, the team’s respective captains led them to the middle. A deafening applause greeted them. Some players even waved back to the crowd for louder cheers.

A few rows down, sitting in the very front was Sirius and Peter, rapidly waving their arms around and cheering. Peter bent down, pulling up a sign that read Potter’s Preeminence . Even with the distance, Y/N could hear Sirius’ screaming. He wore a paper mache lion head while Peter wore the body of a lion.

‘YOU GOT THIS PRONGS! FUCKING CRUSH THEIR TINY LITTLE SNAKE BONES— LET’S GO GRYFFINDOR, LET’S GO WOOWOO!”

What caught her eye was Remus’ absence. She was under the impression that he and James were close friends, so surely he would have been there in support knowing that this game was immensely important to him.

Back on the field, the captains shook their hands. James’ head was held high, determined not to break eye contact first. However, the other captain simply smirked and leant in to whisper something in his ear before Hooch scolded her. When she pulled back, Y/N could hardly see James’ expression but she managed to catch a small glimpse.

He looked, well, she didn't know what his expression meant. Angry? Nervous? Annoyed?  

This was her cue, “DON’T LET THEM GET TO YOU JAMES!” She shouted so loud that it managed to travel down to him. Sirius’ head whipped back, even looking appreciative at her encouragement.

James managed to hear and his head perked up. His head swivelled towards her, his frown wiped off as his confidence returned. Behind him, Marlene looked up to the stands and Y/N, along with the other girls, shot her a thumbs up.

Madam Hooch continued to give her speech. James looked determined, his head tilting towards Marlene as they nodded to each other in encouragement. Y/N was unfamiliar with the rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin players, but surprisingly, Regulus Black was standing there. Unlike the other warm brown and golden brooms, Regulus’s broom was black, accented with silver metal. An odd mark was engraved on the widest part of the base.

Due to the distance, it was hard to make out what was engraved or what position he played before Madam Hooch grabbed her silver whistle, which was comically too big.

“Mount your brooms,” she said, the entire crowd hearing. She lifted the whistle to her mouth and gave a loud blast. The game began.

Fifteen brooms flew high into the air. The clouds covering a couple of players passing by.

The announcer’s voice fills the air. “Anddd we’re off! Gryffindor’s newest captain, James Potter, 7, has the Quaffle and— he passes it to Charlie Bell, 2. This is his last year on the team so everyone give him a loud cheer— he sends the Quaffle back to Potter— and he passes it over to Marlene McKinnon, 6, and— no— the Slytherins swiped the Quaffle! Captain Emma Vanity, 21, flies away and she dives— she passes it to Rhys Calwald, also a seventh year— McKinnon comes back and takes it! She’s— a Gryffindor is down! Bell was hit by a Bludger and— he’s back up, perfectly fine— Potter is by the goalpost and blocks off the Slytherins, speeding up. Above, Phoebe Dawson, 1, joined as the Gryffindors newest seeker. She’s high in the clouds, neck and neck with Regulus Black, 8, Slytherin’s seeker and— there’s a clear shot to search for the Snitch. The Quaffle is taken by Bell and— Slytherin’s chaser takes it! Chaser Lucinda Talkalot, 4— their beater bats it away from an incoming Bludger— Talkalot is rounding on Gryffindor’s goalpost— she’s close, Vanity is there— she dives— she shoots— and… and— SLYTHERIN SCORES!”

Gryffindors groan while Slytherin cheers and wave their signs higher. A roar of claps goes around.

Now Lily is screaming, her hands are stretched out, waving her large sign above her head, blocking the unlucky students sitting behind her. “THAT WAS ONLY TEN POINTS! GET THEM MARLS— YES! LOOK AT THAT DIVE!”

Down below, Peter and Sirius are mirroring Lily. "IS THAT ALL YOU GOT POTTER?! COME ON WE KNOW YOU CAN GET EM! YOU'RE DOING AMAZING! FUCKING CRUSH THEM!"

Y/N grabbed her binoculars, bringing them to her eyes. Marlene was high up, open for James who had the Quaffle tucked under his arm. He does not look over to her, but rather looks at Bell before he throws it to her, his eyes still trained on Bell. Marlene catches it and from the trick James pulled, she has an extra few seconds before the Slytherins catch her. Marlene speeds away as a Bludger is directed at her. Luckily, one of Gryffindor’s beaters already flung it away as Charlie came rushing close to Marlene’s side, warding off any Slytherins as best as he could.

The commentator cuts in again. “Gryffindor is back in possession of the Quaffle. McKinnon and Bell are flying closer to the goalpost—Slytherin's keeper is standing tall at their net, Ashworth, 3— they’re speeding towards— look! It’s the Snitch!”

The two seeker’s heads shot up. A low murmur spreads through the crowd as they caught sight of a flash of gold. Only for a second, they saw the little ball, its wings fluttering madly before it disappeared back into the clouds.

Slytherin directs a Bludger towards Phoebes before Gryffindor’s beater comes rushing up to swat it away.

Gryffindor still is under the possession of the Quaffle. Marlene and Charlie have been passing it back and forth while James comes back around. His body is pressed close to his broom. He does a funny hand movement, signalling to the rest of the chasers before they swoop down suddenly. Everyone is confused and Charlie is flying in the opposite direction, some of the Slytherins follow him before Marlene passes the Quaffle at James and shoots.

"— GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Another round of cheers echoes through Gryffindor’s side. Lily’s clapping slowed. She wanted to show support for Marlene, her house, but not for James. As the Quaffle is sent back up to the air, James and Marlene high-five each other discreetly before returning to their positions.

The Slytherins rush back towards Gryffindors goalpost; they're zigzagging through the air, violent swishes to avoid chasers from cutting them off again.

"Slytherin's in possession. Vanity is on Talkalot's right— passes it to her— shots— misses! Talkalot gets another rebound—

Y/N's attention is drawn back to the seekers. A beater is rapidly swatting away Bludgers as Phoebe is neck and neck with Regulus. Her eyes are stuck through the binoculars.

All of the sudden, a Bludger collided hard with James' broom, so strongly that Y/N swore a chip of wood was knocked off. His broom vibrates hard but his grip is still secured tightly to prevent bucking off. The Bludger was so close to his face that for a split second everyone thought it might've broken his nose. The crowd was cheering on intently while Sirius and Peter screamed.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?"

"FOUL!" Madam Hooch yelled. Gryffindor gets a free score on Slytherins goalpost. Marlene is the one to score.

"NICE JOB MARLS!" Lily bellows. Her voice is high-pitched and cuts through the air loud enough that Marlene looks over and gives a thumbs up.

By now, Slytherin has scored eleven times while Gryffindor was merely in the lead by ten points. Slytherin was rapidly gaining on them. Vanity and Talkalot were great at their positions.

"Gryffindors in possession! Bell’s got the Quaff— a Bludger is coming towards Potter again—” The iron ball was barrelling towards him, again. A beater shouted, warning him before James zoomed across the field as fast as he could. A beater trailed after him and swatted it away, narrowly avoiding being hit.

James ducked as another Bludger was rocketed in his direction.

"— BLOCKED! YEAH, SCUMBAGS — Sorry McGonagall!— Bell is gaining on the Slytherins and aiming at Ashworth. McKinnon is seconds behind— the seekers spotted the Golden Snitch!"

There was an edge of panic that soared through everyone’s hearts as both of the seekers dived down so fast that the chasers and beaters had to move out of their way. It was neck and neck, both flattened to their broom and the crowd only saw the glimpse of golden sparkles. Both reached out their hands.

It was only then a Bludger hit the back of Phoebe's broom, similar to James, causing her to lunge forward and off her broom.

Both seekers were laid on the ground. Everyone peered at the crash worried about their safety before Regulus lifted his hand, waving it above his head.

"I got the Snitch!" Regulus pants out.

James came rushing down to his teammate's side to make sure they weren't badly injured. He screamed for Madam Hooch.

After careful deliberation, Hooch ultimately decided that Slytherin won, awarding them the extra one hundred and fifty points. Gryffindor lost by thirty points.

"That was an illegal Bludger attack!" Marlene says.

"What the fuck?! That's rubbish!" Sirius screamed. Mary, Lily, Dorcas and Y/N groaned with the rest of the Gryffindors. The Slytherins chanted, waving their banners around and screaming as the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws clapped.

“Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!” The Slytherins sang.

James, while still upset at the ruling, was more upset at his team member’s pain. Nobody knew what happened, but James seemed to leave Phoebe's side once he knew she was okay and stormed off in the direction of Vanity. Marlene grabbed a hold of his uniform to pull him back.

“James, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She seethes into his ear, "Don’t start muggle duelling!"

“Are you fucking joking?” He bits back, “I’m not going to hit a woman!”

“Then calm down now.”

Whatever it was, James felt himself cool down considerably as he looked to Marlene. “Right, sorry. Just wanted to talk some sense into her.”

“Dreadful temper you’ve got there Potter.” Vanity spits out. She walks up to him, a pitiful smile on her.

“You need to keep your beaters in check,” he spits. Sparks fly from his nose as he marches back to Phoebe. By now, Madam Pomfrey has her laid back on a stretcher. James helps her, picking up the other end and walking back through the hidden doors. The team shuddered, trailing after them.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

It was a devastating blow for Gryffindor. Everywhere Y/N looked, angry or disappointed faces would pop up. The team themselves were dejected while the Slytherins have begun planning a party.In the halls, students that made bets disappointedly slapped money it into the palms of students. 

Nobody had seen James for hours. He’d left right after the game and all the marauders had disappeared, only reappearing for dinner. Only Sirius and Peter were at the table. 

“— We were so close,” said Marlene numbly. “It must have accounted for something, using an illegal move like that.”

“You did amazing, it’s not your fault.” Lily cuts in, patting her on the shoulder.

“Now Potter is going to be ruthless for the next practices.”

A roar of laughter came from the Slytherins, a song chanting from their lips.

“Potter can hardly score a goal, he almost plummeted on the floor! He calls himself the King of Quidditch, well we call him the second option! Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!”

“Shut it!” Sirius yelled, “You cheated! Bunch of gits.”

“Knock it off!” Followed Peter.

“Potter can hardly score a goal, he almost plummeted on the floor!"

Marlene cringes, watching the scene play out. Her grip on her fork tightens that for a moment Y/N thought she would have shattered the metal pieces. “They already won, what more do they want? A bunch of ugly toads...”

“Just ignore them,” Dorcas says. Marlene looked back at her, smiling reassuringly but with effort.

“He calls himself the king of Quidditch, well we call him the second option!”

“I don’t even like him,” Lily says dully, “But this… this is just mean.”

“Bell shoulda been cap, what were they thinking, picking the so-called King of Quidditch!”  

No wonder James skipped dinner. Y/N turns her head to look at Sirius and Peter, both upset. A thought passes, perhaps it would be good to see how James was doing, but a small seed of doubt settled in her. If his best friends weren’t with him, then it probably would be better to leave him alone. But starving himself shouldn’t be the other option. As the Slytherins continued to sing, with teachers and prefects starting to get up to stop them, Y/N grabbed a nearby empty plate before piling on spaghetti and bread along with slipping a few utensils in her pockets. She excused herself, nodding to Marlene for comfort and slipping her way out effortlessly as teachers swamped the Slytherin table.

The common room was empty aside from James who was huddled up with his invisibility cloak, staring miserably out a window. Only his head was visible, the rest covering his body. It made her feel a bit queasy.

The fireplace crackled with every step she took. There were a few options Y/N could broach this situation,

She could walk around him like there were eggshells,

Or treat him normally.

She sat down beside him, a bit unsure, handing him his plate. His gaze moves to her, a quick smile flashes.

“Thanks.” He says, taking it from her. He ate in silence for a while, Y/N deciding to talk to fill the silence.

“I was thinking we should play exploding snaps-”

“Hey, look, “ he cuts off fast, nodding stiffly. His smile faded and a hard edge crept in his voice, “you don't have to try and cheer me up—”

“Relax, I’m not here to baby you. You’re doing that already.”

A small huff of amusement comes out, “Well then, mind if I play with you?”

“Of course!”

Whenever James won, and quite honestly he wasn’t the best, he’d make a small whooping sound. Even a few times she lost purposely so he would win.

That is until he spoke again, almost inaudible “You know… I care what people think of me- well certain people and I let them down today.”

“James, you didn’t.”

“I did —”

“Nobody is mad at you. If anything they’re mad at Madam Hooch.”

“Still,” he looked down embarrassed. “What are they saying about me down there?”

Her brain short-circuited for a moment; he would have to find out eventually. “They’re singing.”

“Great.” Although he didn’t look bothered, just annoyed. However, he gained a rush of enthusiasm with his next sentence, “Whatever, I’ll show them next year.” 

A few games later, James left before the swarm of students came back to the common room. Again, he covered himself with the cloak and disappeared into the hallway. The spring in his step was noticeably lighter.

[captainseaweedbrains]

The Hunger Games Reread Thoughts Ch. 9

Things are starting to happen! This is the chapter that officially sold me on the book when I was a wee 18-year-old lass reading this in my college dorm while waiting for my ride to pick me up for Thanksgiving break. So I’m excited to have finally reached this point! Yay! Here are my emotional thoughts on chapter 9: 

Betrayal. That's the first thing I feel, which is ludicrous. For there to be betrayal, there would have had to been trust first. // HMMMM. The mystery continues on why this could be??? But on a more serious note, Peeta just has that trusting demeanor. You feel that goodness from him and want to believe he has your best interest at heart which he does Such a good egg, Peeta is.

But the boy who risked a beating to give me bread, the one who steadied me in the chariot, who covered for me with the redheaded Avox girl, who insisted Haymitch know my hunting skills. was there some part of me that couldn't help trusting him? // *weeps* SUCH A GOOD EGG. 

On the other hand, I'm relieved that we can stop the pretense of being friends. // 

I can't imagine what Effie will have to teach me that could take four hours, but she's got me working down to the last minute. // Four hours with Effie sounds horrible and I’m laughing at Katniss’ disgruntled pain because that’s just the type of person I am. 

 I've never worn high heels and can't get used to essentially wobbling around on the balls of my feet. But Effie runs around in them full-time, and I'm determined that if she can do it, so can I. // Gotta find motivation where you can. Women who can run around in heels full-time should be feared. Their pain resistance is mighty high. 

The dress poses another problem. It keeps tangling around my shoes so, of course, I hitch it up, and then Effie swoops down on me like a hawk, smacking my hands and yelling, "Not above the ankle!"// *cackles* Hike that dress up, Katniss! Am I alone on feeling very period-esque when hiking of a dress or a skirt? 

Smiling is mostly about smiling more. Effie makes me say a hundred banal phrases starting with a smile, while smiling, or ending with a smile. By lunch, the muscles in my cheeks are twitching from overuse. // I was in a sorority and this is how it felt during recruitment season. 

"They're betting on how long I'll live!" I burst out. "They're not my friends!"

"Well, try and pretend!" snaps Effie. // I do love how strategic everything is with the Games. A game within a game and I like how SC plays that throughout the series, reflecting on how celebrity culture is perceived. Such mental hurdles the characters have to go through, anticipating everyone’s moves. Katniss hasn’t figured that out yet, and won’t until Catching Fire, but it’s a good commentary on our culture. 

she composes herself and beams at me. "See, like this. I'm smiling at you even though you're aggravating me."

"Yes, it feels very convincing," I say. // I love them both so much. The amount of patrons I’ve had to smile at as they yell at me...good skill to have, honestly. The best is smiling as you escort them out with a ban letter. Good times. 

Haymitch takes me into the sitting room, directs me to the couch, and then just frowns at me for a while.

"What?" I finally ask. // This image cracks me up. You can just feel the awkward tension between the two. 

"What's Peeta's approach? Or am I not allowed to ask?" I say.

"Likable. He has a sort of self-deprecating humor naturally," // I rest my case on my previous statement. Good egg, he is

"Please. I don't know where you pulled that cheery, wavy girl on the chariot from, but I haven't seen her before or since," says Haymitch.

"And you've given me so many reasons to be cheery," I counter. // I am noting now that I love this dynamic a lot. Katniss and Haymitch are so much alike and that causes them to butt heads. Peeta has his hands full with these two. *quietly cries because found family*

"Delight me."

"Fine!" I snarl. // I rest my case. Delightful. 

I'm too angry with Haymitch for what he said and that I even have to answer the questions. All I can think is how unjust the whole thing is, the Hunger Games. Why am I hopping around like some trained dog trying to please people I hate? The longer the interview goes on, the more my fury seems to rise to the surface, until I'm literally spitting out answers at him.// The reality of the Games hitting once more and how demeaning it must feel to have to impress the Capitol despite knowing that you’re ultimately going to die at their hands. Just another way they make those from the District feel small. 

They want to know about you, Katniss."

"But I don't want them to!// There’s that commentary on celebrity life again. We as the audience want to know know know, even if the person doesn’t want to reveal everything. A nice foreshadowing of the epilogue, with Katniss revealing next to nothing about her life post-war (especially her children). 

They're already taking my future! They can't have the things that mattered to me in the past!" I say.

"Then lie! Make something up!" says Haymitch.

"I'm not good at lying," I say.

"Well, you better learn fast. // I want to wrap Katniss up in a fluffy blanket and protect her from the world. She is so pure and innocent. A perfect cinnamon roll.

You've got about as much charm as a dead slug," says Haymitch.

Ouch. That hurts. Even Haymitch must know he's been too harsh because his voice softens. // SHE IS SIXTEEN, HAYMITCH. At least he notices that he’s being too hard, which means Katniss has reacted to it enough that he picks up on it. SIXTEEN, HAYMITCH. A CHILD. 

By the end of the session, I am no one at all. // This is such a sad line. As if being  sixteen isn’t hard enough, but realizing you’re no one at all? Harsh. Katniss, you are compassionate and have a big heart. The world will see it soon and that is what will attract them. *Goes off to have a moment because I’m emotional now*

taking out my anger at Haymitch, at the Hunger Games, at every living being in the Capitol by smashing dishes around my room. When the girl with the red hair comes in to turn down my bed, her eyes widen at the mess. "Just leave it!" I yell at her. "Just leave it alone!" // Throwing plates is extremely therapeutic. I highly recommend it, if you get the opportunity. And another example of Katniss being a scared teenager. 

Lavinia comforting Katniss ends me. Basically anyone caring for Katniss ends me. She deserves to be cared for and loved. Give her comfort, gosh dangit! 

she turns down my bed. I crawl in between the sheets like a five-year-old and let her tuck me in. Then she goes. I want her to stay until I fall asleep. To be there when I wake up. I want the protection of this girl// END ME. This is so soft. I want to protect her so badly. SO BADLY. 

In the morning, it's not the girl but my prep team who are hanging over me.// Could you imagine waking up to a bunch of Sims looking down on you? Talk about a rude awakening. Were they just standing there, watching her until she woke? 

I am not pretty. I am not beautiful. I am as radiant as the sun. // KATNISS IS GORGEOUS. And let it be known that Katniss has an appreciation for pretty things. LET it BE KNOWN. 

*Crying over her awe at how she looks. Same, Katniss, same*

The dress hangs in such a way that I don't have to lift the skirt when I walk// I would like a dress like this. The amount of almost face-plants I’ve had in my life is too great.

No one can help but admire your spirit."

My spirit. This is a new thought. I'm not sure exactly what it means, but it suggests I'm a fighter// It DOESSSSSSS. You ARRRRRRRRRE.

maybe I don't go around loving everybody I meet, maybe my smiles are hard to come by, but I do care for some people. // It’s so interesting being in Katniss’ head and reading these thoughts on herself and then see her act the complete opposite? We truly do not see ourselves as others do and Katniss is a great example of how true that really is. Katniss cares for a *lot* of people, she ends up finding out. 

I would never be telling Gale those things about me. He already knows them." // Maybe it’s because I’m a better liar than Katniss (I mean, I write. Gotta be creative to be a good liar baha), but this line has always struck me as...dumb. I can’t pinpoint *why* I think it’s dumb, but I hate it every time I reach it. 

Cinna is such a great support. I don’t have strong feelings for him as a reader because I just don’t know him well enough to grow emotionally attached, but the kindness he shows, the gentleness, is much appreciated. 

I know I’m guilty of it, but it’s so easy to forget that all the tributes are under the age of 18 and when I think about these teens being paraded around as they are, my soul crumbles a bit. I want to protect them at all costs. 

 "Cinna. " I'm completely overcome with stage fright.

"Remember, they already love you," he says gently. "Just be yourself."// LET ME PROTECT YOU. 

Peeta looks STRIKING. Interesting word choice there, Katniss. You sure like using strong adjectives to describe the boy with the bread. WONDER WHY THAT IS...HMMMMMM

I avoid Haymitch, but accept Effie's compliments.// Yes, accept compliments. I love when people compliment my appearance. Like yes, effort was put into this. Please acknowledge and praise me. 

ALL RIGHT. HERE IS SOMETHING I DON’T GET: How come the boy tribute goes first in the training thing, but the girl tribute goes first in the interviews? It is a little detail, but that just seems WEIRD. I’m probably the only one who thinks this, but I STAND BY IT 

Obviously I know WHY for the drama in the interview, BUT WHY?

I can't exactly shoot an arrow into the crowd to get their attention.// I mean, you COULD…

"Remember, you're still a happy pair. So act like it."// 

They do surgery in the Capitol, to make people appear younger and thinner. In District 12, looking old is something of an achievement since so many people die early. You see an elderly person you want to congratulate them on their longevity, ask the secret of survival. A plump person is envied because they aren't scraping by like the majority of us. But here it is different. Wrinkles aren't desirable. A round belly isn't a sign of success.// The blatant call out! Yessss. The differences between the Capitol and the Districts are so distinct, I love it. Reminds nerdy me of times when pale and plump were desirable because it meant you had status, food, and didn’t have to work outside. And then obviously how the Capitol represents Hollywood and celebrity culture. 

I wonder what makes him decide what color Caesar dyes his hair. Why blue? To match the suit? 

Am I alone in seeing Stanley Tucci as Caesar??????

The sexualization of children is disgusting. Glimmer is, at most, eighteen. Gross gross gross gross

I sit like a lady// Katniss having to tell us this cracks me up. 

How Collins writes the passing of time with the interviews is great. It gives readers a glimpse at the other tributes while also displaying to us how nervous Katniss is. Great writing! 

Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuue. Precious peanut. 

The boy tribute from District 11, Thresh, has the same dark skin as Rue// Remember when everyone was up in arms about when they casted Amandla as Rue because they claimed Rue wasn’t black? CLEARLY THEY IGNORED THE ACTUAL TEXT. 

I just imagine Thresh and Caesar awkwardly sitting there, looking at each other until the buzzer goes off. 

Katniss saying food has been her favorite part makes her so endearing. Ignoring that it’s because starvation Good food is hard to ignore.

This is what I mean about Caesar. He tries to help you out.// Another beautiful narration by Katniss. It’s so funny to me. Don’t judge me. 

GIGGLING KATNISS. PRECIOUS BEAN

Katniss, you do not give yourself enough credit with the interview banter. 

"Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything.// *lip wobble* It took a more recent reread to fully appreciate the sister relationship don’t @ me about my priorities but it makes me emotional. How much Katniss loves her sister, what she’d obviously do for her? God. Sister of the universe goes to Katniss Everdeen. 

"She asked me to try really hard to win...I swore I would."// The heart of the entire series right here: a promise to a sister. 

IT’S ALMOST TIME

WE’RE ALMOST HERE

I need fics where Peeta is a politician because he’s got the ~charisma 

I also don’t feel Peeta intended to drop the ball about liking Katniss because how could he have predicted what Caesar was going to ask him? He is quick to think on his feet, though. I do believe he sees that opportunity of giving their district a leg up. 

"Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."// 

a lot of boys like her," says Peeta// I wish we knew if this is accurate. I’d like to think it is and Katniss has been so focused on living her life that she just doesn’t care about boys and dating/oblivious when someone has a crush on her. 

"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" says Caesar encouragingly.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning. won't help in my case," says Peeta.// *HOLDS BREATH INTENSELY* WHY WON’T IT HELP IN YOUR CASE, PEETA? 

Peeta blushes beet red and stammers out.// I take back Peeta taking this as an opportunity. Or do I? I can’t decide, remembering his post-interview reaction. The jury is still out on that. But if it has been decided, he’s a really REALLY good actor. Then again, I guess planned or not, announcing your crush on national television is a big deal. I am undecided. Look away.

"Because. because. she came here with me." // *CUES THE INTENSE SCREAMING* So *this* is when I finally got hooked during my first read and I’m not even ashamed. Stamp a C on my forehead for Capitolite because I’m eating it up. 

WHAT A CLIFFHANGER! SC sure knows how to end chapters. You can tell she’s written for television because of how suspenseful she leaves you despite knowing you’ll find out on the next page what happens next. 

I’m dying. I’m living. I’m living my best life. 

Choo choo Everlark train has *officially* arrived. it’ll take a stop for a couple hundred pages, but it’s FINE. Totally FINE. 

Now onto part ii!!!

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 4 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: 

Warnings: cursing, discussion of sexual activities

Word Count: 3,911

~~~~

You’d tossed and turned for almost an hour before you had eventually drifted off to sleep, only to be awoken by the Denver sunrise spilling through the window. Groaning softly you made a mental note for the shopping trip...curtains...Cale definitely needed curtains. Laying on the couch, you played on your phone for a few minutes before the need to use the bathroom finally took over. 

After knocking quietly on Cale’s door with no response, you cracked it open hoping to sneak through to the bathroom without disturbing him. As you tiptoed across his bedroom floor, you couldn’t help but let your eyes fall on him. As expected, he was shirtless, blankets falling only midway up his exposed chest. His hair was a mess, and a relaxed expression covered his face. Quietly closing the bathroom door behind you, you chastised yourself for the heat that flooded through you. You were just friends and despite his now single status, that was all this was ever going to be. 

Relieving yourself, you then quickly brushed your teeth before quietly moving back to the living room, easing his door shut behind you. His parents were going to be here in about an hour and after starting a pot of coffee you examined the contents of Cale’s fridge and cabinets. Finding bacon, eggs, and pancake mix you decided to make everyone breakfast. It was as you were moving around the kitchen that Cale finally appeared, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“You’re making breakfast?” He murmured, leaning in to kiss the top of your head. 

“I am…” You smiled, checking on the bacon in the oven as you scrambled eggs in a pan on the stove. Cale poured himself a cup of coffee and you felt his eyes on you once more. 

“Anything I can do?” He questioned after a moment. 

“Get some plates?” You requested. “How do you want your eggs?” The clatter of plates filled your ears for a moment as Cale set plates beside you. 

“However you’re making them is perfect.” He insisted, sharing a warm grin now that he was a little bit more awake. Nodding you took one of the plates and scooped a hefty portion of eggs onto it before pulling the bacon from the oven and the pancakes from where they were keeping warm in the microwave and piling those onto the plate as well. 

“Eat up.” You grinned, turning to place the plate in front of one of the bar stools at the island. Doing another batch of eggs quickly you set everything aside to keep warm before serving yourself a much smaller portion. Taking a seat beside him, you shook your head as you watched Cale continue to dig into his breakfast. The moment felt a little too domestic and natural so you were thankful when there was a knock at the door that signaled that Laura and Gary had arrived. 

It wasn’t long after that before you were quickly getting ready and heading out with Laura to go shopping for things for Cale’s apartment. The first place you stopped was Starbucks and then you were off to a local shopping center to do some damage. 

“You seem more relaxed…” Laura mentioned as she sat waiting for the light to turn green. 

“Yeah uh...we talked after dinner last night. We’re good.” You shrugged. Yes you were close with Laura, but you really didn’t want to tell her the details of your friendship with her son. She seemed to accept that because she nodded and smiled. 

“Good. I’m glad.” Her response ended the subject and instead she focused on the task ahead. “So you’ve spent a decent amount of time in Cale’s apartment...what does he still need other than what he mentioned to me?” 

“Well curtains would be good. Waking up to the sun isn’t always ideal.” You said, a yawn slipping from your throat. “He could also use a throw blanket for the couch.” You added, pondering over what comforts Cale’s apartment seemed to be missing that would make it feel more like a home. 

Wandering through aisles, Laura did most of the shopping, occasionally asking for your thoughts on something before either tossing it into the cart or putting it back on the shelf. As you walked through the aisle containing photo frames you paused. 

“What do you think about surprising him with some pictures?” You suggested. He had a couple pieces of ‘artwork’ but there really weren’t any family photos to be found as far as you could see. 

“Why don’t you take the reins on that?” Laura replied, a soft look you couldn’t place filling her eyes as she handed you her phone. “Text yourself anything from my camera roll.” As she looked through possible throw pillows, you quickly scanned through the pictures, texting yourself a half dozen that would be perfect. Agreeing to meet up in about fifteen minutes, you headed back to the instant photo machine, plugging your phone in to print the pictures from Laura’s gallery as well as a couple from your own. Satisfied with what you had, you moved back to the frames, picking out one for each photo before moving to find some command strips to hang them with. 

On the car ride back to Cale’s place, you worked to get each photo into a frame. By the time Laura pulled back into the garage you were finished and you helped her carry all of the shopping bags inside. Cale had given his mom the spare key in case the two of you were done before he got back and after letting yourselves inside, you went to work on making Cale’s apartment feel just a little cozier. Together you hung curtains up in his living room, tossing pillows and the sherpa throw onto the couch. Then Laura helped you with hanging photos on his bedroom wall while a few of them were placed stationary on a side table in his living room. Laura unpacked the rest of the things Cale had asked her to buy and then the two of you settled onto the couch to watch tv until the guys arrived. 

Gary and Cale had picked up lunch on the way home, so the four of you sat down to eat. When you finished, Cale handed you a gift bag and though you had a feeling you knew what it was, you were still anxious to open it. Navy fabric accented with maroon and white spilled around your fingers and you gently ran your fingers over the number 8 and lettering of the nameplate. 

“Can’t have you come to the game tonight without proper apparel.” Cale murmured and you jumped up quickly, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. 

“It’s perfect.” You agreed. You’d packed the Makar home jersey that you’d bought yourself at the beginning of the season, but you had to admit the thirds were your favorite jersey and getting the jersey from Cale meant just a little bit more than buying one for yourself. 

As you cleaned up lunch, Cale started to settle in, getting ready to take his pregame nap. He had acknowledged the curtains, blanket, pillows and other things his mom had gotten him but it wasn’t until he disappeared into his bedroom for a moment that his eyes must have caught the photos. He’d only been gone maybe 30 seconds when he returned, pulling his mom into a huge hug, his eyes soft. 

“You framed pictures for me?” He muttered softly. 

“That idea was all Y/N.” Laura quickly clarified and immediately Cale turned to you, his arms wrapping around you just as tightly. 

“That’s incredible. Thank you.” He whispered into your ear, and when he pulled back his hands lingered on your hips for a moment more. 

Soon you were grabbing everything you’d need for the game because you were headed with Laura and Gary to play tourist while Cale napped and then headed to the rink. Laura and Gary had already headed downstairs while you debated on a shirt to wear and you didn’t even notice Cale come up beside you as you dug through your bag. 

“Wear that one.” He instructed, pointing to a wine red long-sleeved off-the-shoulder blouse. “We’re going out after the game if we win.” He clarified, rubbing the back of his neck. You were already wearing your favorite pair of jeans and had thrown on a cute pair of tennis shoes for running around. You weren’t exactly a club type of person but going out with Cale and his teammates did seem fun. 

“Okay.” You agreed, disappearing into his bathroom to change tops before returning. “Have a good nap. And kick some ass tonight.” You teased, grabbing your makeup bag because you’d barely put any on to go shopping and if you were going out tonight you were going to need to rethink your current makeup. With everything you needed, you snuck a kiss to Cale’s cheek before disappearing out the door to meet Gary and Laura down at the car. 

____

The last time you saw Cale play live was versus Calgary during the playoffs. So sitting in the stands of the Pepsi Center watching him warm up was an entirely different experience. You’d watched him on tv many times but in person it was clear to see just how much his game was growing every day. He was almost mesmerizing to watch and tucked in next to Laura, wrapped in his jersey, you felt at peace. Well, at least until the puck dropped for real. 

During a commercial break in the first period, the Avs announced a promo game. After the participant was introduced and the game was explained, a baby picture popped up on the screen. In it, a little boy, no more than 9 or 10 months old, sat between the legs of a little girl around the age of five who had a book in her hands. Immediately your own cheeks flushed as you recognized the picture, it was one of your favorites from when you and Cale were super little. The fan playing got one guess of who it was with no options to win an autographed jersey, but they were way off and guessed Nate for some reason. Then multiple choice popped up with Cale’s name, JT’s, and Gabe for a chance at an autographed puck. You didn’t even pay attention to the guess beyond hearing the boos signaling they got it wrong, but instead your gaze landed on Cale who was looking up at the screen, hiding a smile as he took some ribbing by his teammates. Eventually his eyes drifted up to where you were seated and he sent a little wink that you would have missed if you weren’t looking at him. From beside you Laura just smiled and bumped your shoulder, signaling without words just how strong your friendship with Cale really was. 

The Avs played a solid all around game and you cheered with each goal scored. Cale had two assists on the night and with the team coming out with the win you knew he was going to be in a good mood. Heading down to the locker room, you listened as Gary rambled on about the game as hockey dads do while sharing looks with Laura that made you burst into laughter. 

When Cale finally stepped out of the locker room he hugged his parents before lifting you up and spinning you around. 

“You ready to go have some fun?” He inquired, boyish smile on his face. 

“Don’t get into too much trouble.” Laura warned, though her expression wasn’t all that serious. 

“As if I’d let him.” You joked. For years Cale’s family had the running joke of you being the more responsible one keeping Cale in line. It wasn’t always true obviously, but for the most part the point stood. Still after the past few weeks Cale had had, you were willing to let him go just a little bit crazy tonight, knowing that you would be there as his safety net. 

“We’ll see you both tomorrow.” Gary grinned. “Go relax and have a good time.” Cale’s arm drifted around your waist as he tugged you to his car. Once there, you stripped off the jersey leaving you in just the blouse and as he pulled out of the garage you mussed up your hair just a little bit. Using the mirror, you carefully added a little more eyeliner before throwing on a dark lipstick, tossing both cylinders into the cupholder beside you. 

By the time you stepped out of the car at the club you felt ready for a night out and as you watched Cale shed his jacket, you felt his eyes on you once more. 

Waiting for him to be ready to head inside, you watched as a tall redhead approached, beautiful woman tucked into his side. 

“Y/N...this is JT and his girlfriend Lauren.” Cale introduced and you reached a hand out to shake theirs before tucking your hand back into your pocket. 

“So this is the best friend.” JT said, smirking. “Bout time Cale finally brought you around, he’s been talking about you for forever.” 

“Really?” You teased, ready to throw out a semi-embarrassing tidbit until Cale grabbed you by the waist, his finger falling to your lips to shush you as he guided you inside. 

“Can you at least let me get a drink or two in me before you start spilling the embarrassing stories?” He pleaded jokingly. 

“I suppose.” You conceded, smiling as he guided you up to the VIP lounge and over to the bar. Settling for a glass of wine, you watched him order a beer for himself before leading you over to one of the many couches. It wasn’t long before you were being introduced to all of Cale’s teammates.  

Gabe was boisterous and funny and the way that he looked at his wife Mel made you smile brightly. Josty was a character, he had you laughing almost immediately as he told stories about all of the media events he’d done with Cale and what he’d learned from residing in the same building. He was definitely giving you ammo to use later. Then again they all were, chirps had been flying left and right all night. 

You’d been nursing the same glass of wine for about an hour, watching as Cale downed another 2-3 beers as well as a shot that Burky handed him. It was nice to see Cale out with people that clearly cared about him and you knew this was probably the first time he had really been able to let go of all of the stress since the pregnancy scare. 

Eventually Mel and Lauren dragged you out onto the dance floor with the other better halves and even though you’d barely had anything to drink, the beat of the music had you relaxing, enjoying the time you had getting to know the people who were part of Cale’s other family. 

“You know his eyes haven’t left you all night.” Mel eventually declared, her voice barely audible over the loud music. 

“He’s always been a little protective…” You simply shrugged. The look Mel and Lauren shared suggested that they weren’t buying that logic but they didn’t push things. After a few more songs, you left the dance floor to head to the bar for a bottle of water. While there a tall….like really tall, dark haired man who looked like he should star in the next hollywood vampire blockbuster, slipped up beside you, his arm brushing against yours lightly. As you placed him as Cale’s d-partner you smiled up at him before looking back at where the bartender was rushing back and forth. 

“You know none of us have ever seen him like this before…” Ryan murmured. “He comes out but he never really lets loose. Now I don’t know whether that’s because it’s the first time we’ve been out since everything happened or if it’s because you’re here but I suspect it’s more to do with the latter.” You didn’t really know what to say to that so you shrugged. “And I’m not saying that in the manner of he feels like you’re the babysitter who will take care of him, I’m saying that he feels comfortable because you’re here in a way he was never comfortable either by himself or with Sara.” Ryan finally managed to get the bartender’s attention and he ordered your water along with whatever he was drinking before continuing. “And I’m sure Cale never said anything and neither did anyone else but...you should know everyone really likes you. And I can’t say the same for Sara.” Just as quickly as he’d appeared, Ryan had walked off and you glanced over at Cale to see his eyes planted firmly on you, his cheeks rosy from the alcohol. 

Water in hand, you moved to Cale’s side, his arm wrapping around you immediately. The redness in his eyes told you he’d had a little bit more to drink than he probably should have and you pushed your water his way, not wanting him to be completely impossible to drag home. The grin on his face was lazy as he took the bottle, showing how completely relaxed and at ease he was. 

His Adam's apple bobbed as he took a long sip of the water and you tilted your head to observe him, tie gone and the top few buttons of his shirt undone. His fingers slipped just under the edge of your shirt along your hip and you took your own sip from the bottle of water trying to hide the flush that filled your body at the feeling of his fingertips on your bare skin. Passing the water back to him, it was soon gone and once the bottle was empty you stood, looking over your shoulder. 

“Are you going to sit there all night or are you going to come dance with me?” You inquired, your tongue running against your bottom lip. Stumbling just slightly, Cale slipped out of the booth and his hand fell to the curve of your back as he guided you over to where his teammates and their significant others were dancing. 

With Cale’s chest pressed against your back, his hands fell to your hips once more and the pads of his fingers wandered over every inch of skin they could reach. His touch had never affected you like this before, he’d never been this brazen before, but you chalked both of those factors up to the alcohol. Though you’d only had two glasses of wine since you arrived, wine had always made you far warmer than any other form of alcohol so the heat in your skin was definitely just from that. 

“So I have a question…” Cale’s breath fanned over your ear as he leaned down to whisper yell at you, allowing you to hear him over the rap song that was playing. 

“Yes Cale?” You replied, tilting your body back against his so that you could see his face. It was even rosier than before and his soft smile was replaced by a serious and focused look causing your eyebrow to quirk at the sight. 

“Women like having oral sex performed on them right?” For a split second you were certain that it was only Cale’s hold on you that kept you from falling right over. Choking on your own saliva as you tried to swallow you quickly coughed, your cheeks even more flushed than you could attribute to the wine. 

“I...I mean from what I’ve heard yeah…” You finally stumbled out an answer. “Why?” Your question was ignored as Cale’s hands tightened around your hips. 

“You’ve heard?” Cale prodded. “You don’t know?” Cursing under your breath you shivered as Cale’s thumb stroked a sensitive spot along your side. 

“Cale…” You mumbled, not drunk enough for this conversation. He poked you in the side though signaling you to continue and you groaned. “I mean...I had sex for the first time freshman year of college and we didn’t exactly know what we were doing…” You explained, softly enough that only Cale would hear you. “And I mean I’ve only had sex one other time...it was a one night stand and we were both way too drunk to do anything but fuck. So yeah...I’m just taking other people’s word on it...why are you asking Cale?” You finished, twisting in his arms so that you could look at him properly. His head ducked to press against the crook of your neck and he hissed quietly as you drug your nails along his lower back. 

“Just curious…” Cale breathed. “Sara never let me...I mean I wanted to but...she told me she wasn’t interested.” For a moment you didn’t know what to say as that little piece of you celebrated the fact that it seemed there were a lot of things he didn’t do with his ex girlfriend. 

“Oh...I mean everyone has their own likes and dislikes…” You reminded him. “But generally equal reciprocation is definitely appreciated.” 

As the song ended, Gabe called Cale’s name to go take another shot and you pushed him to go murmuring that you were going to run to the bathroom. By the time you returned, you suspected it was definitely time to get Cale home, so you sidled up to his side, slipping your hand in his front pocket for his car keys. 

“I think it’s time we get you home and to bed rockstar.” You declared. Thankfully Cale didn’t put up much of a fight, closing his tab before letting you lead him out of the club. By the time you had parked in his garage, you could see how sleepy the alcohol was making him and you moved around to help him out of the car, his body nearly dragging yours down with its weight. 

Stumbling through the door, you urged him to start to bed while you got him more water and some pain killers. Gathering both, you moved to his room after checking to ensure the front door was locked. You found him sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in only boxer briefs and though you tried not to stare, your body couldn’t help but notice that gone was the teenage boy you once knew and in his place was a man plain and simple. Setting the water and pills on his bedside table, you urged him to take his contacts out. 

Once you were certain he was fairly settled, you turned to make your way to the couch. Instead, Cale’s hands reached out to pull you back to him and as he scooted to the far side of the bed, he drug you down with him. 

“Cale…” You mumbled in complaint but his eyes were already closed and his breathing was starting to steady out, his hands keeping your body pressed tightly against his. Sighing, you managed to work yourself out of your jeans before giving in and settling in his arms. 

Between your conversation with Gravy, the looks Mel and Lauren were giving you, Cale’s inquiry, wandering hands, and this, so many lines had been blurred tonight that it was making you dizzy. 

For the second night in a row...your mind reeled as you fell into a fitful sleep. 

Blouse:

[smallfrost]

Motherland: Fort Salem. Musical analysis for Raelle and Scylla

It is no secret (unless you did not know that the Original Score for MFS exists and if you didn’t, it does and you should go listen immediately) that there is a track named Raelle & Scylla on the score. If you didn’t know that, then this is more interesting. More below the cut - in case you don’t care or don’t want to be spoiled.

The track “Raelle & Scylla” is the music that plays when Raelle and Scylla take Salva for the first time in the Pilot.

Still not over the cinematography here

In the majority of the Raelle and Scylla scenes that follow (typically ones that are Scylla emotionally conveying a message) this musical theme always plays. It is not exactly the same as the first time, but very clearly the same notes are played.

We hear it in Episode 2, when they are walking in the graveyard

You sexy weirdos

Episode 3 in Memorial Hall, when Scylla tells Raelle about her parents (for real)

Just hug her already, Raelle

Twice in Episode 4. First after Raelle leaves the infirmary and Scylla is relieved she is okay.

Fuck fuck fuck I fucked up = Scylla in this moment

Second after Beltane when Scylla admits she has feelings for Raelle.

They’re the same height but let’s just play smol and tol here for a sec

And in Episode 5, when Scylla gives Raelle her gift

Sexy Weird Palm DMs are the new snapchat

That’s this season SO FAR. But there’s more:

While everyone has probably guessed that next week during Salva training Raelle is going to be filled with grief over Scylla being missing, we can confirm this by turning to the Original Score. The track “Missing Salva” starts with this same thematic music, so for sure we will hear this theme at least once in Episode 6 and it will represent the heartbreak Raelle is feeling from Scylla [potentially] having been “killed”. When I first listened to the score after episode 1, this gave me chills that they so seamlessly conveyed this message with music.

Also in the score (MAJOR SPOILER) is a track called Scylla Revealed. While we probably all guessed this would happen eventually and the majority of this track is the sound of the Spree, the last few seconds are… Raelle & Scylla’s musical theme. Again, I got actual chills when I first heard this 4 weeks ago, knowing nothing about what was going to happen. Because of this, I’m guessing Raelle will witness either Scylla revealing herself with fire or her carrying out some sort of Spree order (I would love the former) as opposed to being told by Tally or Anacostia. 

I’m so excited about the depth of this show and the little details they put in. I’m going to keep track of every scene where I hear this theme and I’m guessing it will reveal some foreshadowing in hindsight after the end of the season.

---

EDIT:  An update following Episode 6, Up is Down

As predicted we were gifted with the beauty of “Missing Salva” this episode but this was not the only time we heard Raelle and Scylla’s Musical theme this week. In fact, we heard it three times - what appears to be a record for number of appearances in an episode.

The first time we hear it is during Salva training on base. This is actually the original Raelle & Scylla track from the original score but slightly more raw towards the beginning

*Sings* So you think you can flyyyyy

The second is extremely subtle but the theme plays when Scylla contacts Raelle, interlaced with music that conveys hope

The only time giving your S.O. a rash is sexy and appreciated

And finally, the third time is our “Missing Salva” track. Beautiful, heartbreaking, chill giving. But also; drugs are never the answer, kids. Remember, you are important, you are beautiful, don’t push away the ones who love you. They will be your wings to help you soar.

Yep, right there. That’s the spot

Until next week...

--

EDIT:  An update following Episode 7, Mother Mycelium

Is everyone okay after this episode? I’m pretty sure I’m still dead (no captions for these, they all caused to much pain). Another beautiful and heart breaking week - let’s go over our theme moments. This week brought us the next big track containing the theme: Scylla Revealed. Like last week, we get to hear the Theme three times even though our girls are apart; further solidifying their connection.

The first time the tune graces our ears is when Raelle is looking up at Scylla’s room. Everywhere she looks she sees (and hears) Scylla. This version is slow and depressing and makes it seem like Raelle is really starting to believe Scylla might actually be dead.

The second is during their reunion in the dungeon when Raelle finally says, “I love you”

And the third, as expected, comprised the ending of Scylla Revealed

Seeing Raelle made Scylla’s mind vulnerable and cracked her open (like an egg). All Scylla can think about now is Raelle, even after she has just been forced to reveal her most terrible secrets about herself. This pain we see here is not that Scylla’s mind betrayed the Spree, it’s that she lost Raelle in the process.

This is the last score track that contains Raylla’s theme. Perhaps we will hear Scylla Revealed again when Raelle discovers the truth? But I can guarantee this isn’t the last time we’ll hear our tune.

--

EDIT - An update following Episode 8, Citydrop

Raelle is reeling after discovering both that Scylla is alive but also may be a member of the Spree and it shows in their music this episode. After rewatching, I only detected their theme once, and barely. When Raelle is remembering their reunion, the theme is ever so subtly hinted at. In fact, I would argue it doesn’t even get the chance to be fully realized. 

I really think this is the only time we even remotely hear it in this episode. And even here it is not obvious at all, and I think is indicating the emergence of Raelle’s doubts about how much she truly knows about Scylla. We know by the end of the episode Raelle is really beginning to question what is real and what isn’t. But we will definitely get it again in Episode 9 as more truths and feelings are revealed. 

--

EDIT:  An update following Episode 9, Coup

The pain is real this episode and we hear Raelle and Scylla’s theme three times, though technically two of these three are in the same scene. Specifically, when Raelle goes to see Scylla one last time in the dungeon, their theme book-ends their reunion but in two different tones.

At first, it is soft but laced with sadness. Reflecting the pain of Raelle and the sadness of Scylla for realizing Raelle may be lost to her.

But at the end, it becomes harsher and more dissonant as Scylla pleads for Raelle to know her love is real. That she chose her over everything else. They are both raw, just like their music. 

And the third time is by their tree, when Raelle admits that she is still in love with Scylla. Here is it deeper and resonates. And it lifts up just as Anacostia tells Raelle Scylla’s love is real. Just a bit at the end but just like in the first scene when their feet leave the ground after taking Salva. It’s laced with hope and Anacostia’s words fill Raelle’s heart with hope. 

One more episode left....

--

EDIT:  An update following Episode 10, Witchbomb 

HOLY. SHIT. Well that was an epic finale. So much happened. With Raelle and the unit being immediately deployed, and Scylla still in the Dungeon, there was no time for goodbyes for our Necro and Healer. To be honest, I was really nervous that Raelle & Scylla’s theme was completely absent from the finale. But our faith can be renewed because Raylla’s theme does indeed make a small appearance making it 10/10 episode wise this season. 

Now when Raelle pleads with Anacostia to have the military go easy on Scylla,  that she’s not all bad - I listened to that scene so many times, side by side with others and I can’t confidently say that the Raylla theme was used in any capacity. That being said, I also can’t say that it isn’t there in the bare minimum. I’m pretty sure most of the music in the scene with Anacostia, Raelle, and Tally is more closely related to the Blue Rose Friendship theme but it is possible the Raylla theme is interlaced ever so slightly while Raelle is talking to Anacostia about Scylla... but I’m not calling it completely due to lack of confidence. 

Where I am more confident in the appearance of the theme is when Anacostia sets Scylla free and tells her to hold on to the part of her that’s good. The music is bare bones minimal and only during this exact moment. It’s just the core notes that drive the theme home but they are stripped and bare and it makes complete sense because Scylla has lost so much, perhaps even lost Raelle, but what she does have left is the goodness that Raelle instilled in her. And she still has her love for Raelle. 

So Raelle and Scylla may be in limbo relationship wise, but the love is real and the part of Scylla that’s good is Raelle. otp: No matter what happens.

Until next season...

[maggiecheungs]

2020 ~everything~ wrap

i finally have time to do all of the tag games that people have tagged me in over the past month or so! i cannot for the life of me remember who tagged me in which one, so i’m just putting ~everything~ in one huge post. if i tag you anywhere then consider it a standing invitation to do whichever of these you haven’t done :) in fact, this is me issuing a standing invite to any of my followers who wants to do it :) also, thank you all!

Creator Wrap: Favourite Works

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

this collection of philosophy quotes paired with thai bl series, (and its sequel) which is possibly my favourite thing i’ve ever made. for, uh, nerd reasons.

these gifted text post memes i made still make me laugh sometimes

this fic about green from 2gether, which i wrote in the notes app on my phone and published the same day. not my absolute best writing but i am very fond of it <3

i have a bunch fof friend zone dangerous area edits/shitposts which i like, but i’m particularly fond of my fzda as satire headlines (which now has a sequel!)

i also love my crisgood-walmart-lesbian post. i might send it in to gmmtv to try and convince them to do a crisgood-bffs spin-off

+ bonus: since i wrote this list i made this gifset (my first ever!) of jennie panhan in the shipper and i love her too much not to include her on here

+ extra nerdy bonus: this niche meme about Chinese philosophy, which still makes me crack up whenever I think about it

Favourite Creators/Follow Forever

i’ve completely lost track of who’s following who from which blog, so this is just going to be a haphazard, non-exhaustive list of people who i adore/admire/am vaguely intimidated by, mutuality be damned. maybe we talk all the time! maybe we’ve never interacted! maybe i am constantly there in ur tags... lurking... 👀... but if you’re on this list you have made me smile at least once this year and i love you for that alone <3

@wjmild kylie!! you make gifs of arm & tay & lee (separately or in various combinations) & the shipper & and kapook & random fluke pusit cameos & school rangers so i don’t have to <3 ilysm

@janeramida vianey, you have such impeccable taste in general, but your sizzy gifset in particular is so gorgeous it lives in my mind rent free

@applelapis bri, this post was a callout and i want you to know that it haunts me at night as i lie awake staring at the ceiling :((((( i hope you are happy

@gigiesarocha cata, i love it when you show up on my dash bc you have!! such taste!! also, every time you gif gigie i gain five years of life <3 pls continue doing the Good Work

@pvrrish​ eleni, i remeber legit thinking that this was an official poster when i first saw it, it’s so beautiful

@ahysopae​ juliette your khaithird fic is so good and it literally changed the way i think about khai (not an easy feat)

@kurosawadachi angel, whenever i think about grace’s speech i remember your gifset and get literal chills

@doctorbahnjit alexa, you have no right to be as funny as you are. your friend zone edits give me life

@khaotungthanawat sam, you’re probably sick of getting tagged in these lists by random strangers, but i just had to bc your gifsets are Pure Art

@tanwirapong roa, all your gifsets are so ✨iconic✨

faiza @asianmelodrama and rahul @petekaos! yours were the first two thai drama blogs i followed and for ages i lowkey thought of you as my fandom parents.

and some more blogs that make me happy: @curlykytta / @lee-thanat  / @fck-inspector-m / @pangwave / @tichawongtipkanon / @tawanv @kimmonv (violet istg i have spent more time this year trying to figure out how many blogs you have than i have spent admiring your gifsets. & i spend a lot of time admiring your gifsets) / @taytawan / @1akorn and @yihwas (and your radiant lovechild @lakornladies ofc) / @teh-ohaew / @vihokratanas (mel your gifsets are just so gorgeous) / @tootiredtoosadtooangry / @headcompletelyempty / @demiromanticmickey​ / and there are definitely more but my brain is a sieve so apologies if i’ve forgotten anyone!! i love you all!! 

2020 HIGHLIGHTS ✨

rules: list your top 10 shows (bl or not) you watched in 2020 (doesn’t necessarily have to be shows that came out in 2020 though!)

1. 2GETHER & STILL2GETHER

my first thai drama, and even after all the amazing shows i’ve watched this year, it still has a special place in my heart. watching 2gether was the first time i’d ever seen a queer romcom that just... was. for me, by the simple fact of its being, 2gether was revolutionary. and then still2gether came along and took all the best things about the first season and gave us something beautiful and quiet and lovely and just proved to me, once and for all, that queer happiness doesn’t need to justify its own existence. there can be gay cuddles on the beach for no other reason than that we want them. 

2. UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

i don’t really have the words for this one but. it makes my heart so very soft.

3. FRIEND ZONE 2: DANGEROUS AREA

season one was mindless fun because everyone was an absolute trashfire and it was hella cathartic to watch, but season 2... wow. i love it for so many reasons: it has messy and authentic queer rep; the characterisation is excellent and i somehow care about all of the characters; amazing women taking centre stage(!); a wlw relationship with lesbian, ace and bipolar rep; multiple interesting plotlines; actual character development; arm weerayut as a chaos gremlin... absolutely one of my favourites of 2020.

4. CHERRY MAGIC

i don’t think i need to explain this one, which is fortunate, because i have no idea how exactly i’d describe the happy-warm-fuzzy-queer-seen-loving-affirmed-profound feeling that rises in my chest whenever i think about it. 

5. THE GIFTED: GRADUATION

confession: i liked season 2 more than season 1 (with the exception of the ending, which we don’t talk about). season 1 was enjoyable and interesting, but for me it was season 2 which made me love this series. it did some incredibly interesting and complicated things (even if it didn’t quite nail the landing): it pushed characters to the breaking point and wove so many layers into the story and questioned its own underlying themes. plus, watching it alongside everyone in the fandom made it 200% better. i love all of you and i love this show. egg girl 5eva.

6. THE SHIPPER

i 100% understand why so many people didn’t like this show, or found it problematic, but through some fluke it absolutely worked for me (even the ending). one day i will write an essay explaining my rationale, but for now i’ll just say that it’s one of my favourite shows about adolescence and queerness and identity and compassion and friendship and love that i’ve ever watched. 

7. YYY

this series is absolutely off its rocker, and it somehow managed to be one of the most affirming shows i’ve watched. it shouldn’t have worked by it did, and i love it so much.

8. 3 WILL BE FREE

absolutely iconic. amazing plot, stunning visuals, great characters, canon polyamory, jennie being incredible... what a series.

9. MANNER OF DEATH

i love the fact that this show exists; i love the mix of crime and romance; i love maxtul’s acting; i love the central relationship; i love bun. i know we’re not even halfway through yet, but this show is doing something special and i’m so grateful that i get to watch it unfold in real time. 

10. CHIHAYAFURU (SEASON 3)

odd one out on my list, but I had to include it. chihayafuru is my all-time favourite anime and it finally got a third season, which is somehow even better than the first two. mashima taichi is one of my favourite characters of all time and his storyline hits me on such a profound level. plus, in the years since i first say this show i’ve fallen in love with classical japanese literature (particularly heian poetry) so i had newfound appreciation for the karuta matches (aka i cried every time someone recited one of my favourite poems)

other favourites: together with me, he’s coming to me, sotus and sotus s, my dear loser: edge of 17, why r u, theory of love, wake up chanee!, gameboys, pearl next door, uta koi (anime), three kingdoms (2010), blood and water (netflix). (itsay would almost certainly be on my list if i’d had time to watch it. same with dark blue kiss, which i had to pause so i could do my assignments)

Final Thoughts

well, it’s been... a year (i don’t think anyone needs a reminder of the details) but writing this post has reminded me of all the amazing shows and people I discovered over the course of it.

thank you to everyone for being so lovely and creative and funny and quirky and kind and passionate. you’re all incredibly awesome people and i wish all of you the very best xx

[intrepidmare]

MARE'S RECAPS ~ THE MANDALORIAN: CHAPTER 9 "THE MARSHALL"

Oh wow! It's been a while since I've done something like this. Last year, I caught up with season 1 about 2 days before the finale, so I didn't have the opportunity to write reviews/recaps. This season, though, I'm going to 😀 so here it is the first one! 

For the folks that haven't seen the premiere and don't want spoilers, scroll past this, fast and furious, because it's full of them. If you want to blacklist tags to avoid spoilers from me, I suggest that you add #mando spoilers, #the mandalorian season 2 spoilers, and #mare's mando recaps to the list.

I've seen the episode a few times (yeah, I'm that obsessed with the show) so some of my reactions are more visceral than others since I was too excited the few first times I watched it and I missed a lot of details (another reason to rewatch the episode more than once). This recap is loooooong, which is an indication of how amazing it was.

So this my final warning to those avoiding spoilers. Stop reading, right now. The rest of you… enjoy and let me know if you share some of my opinions. I'm always open to chat 😊

Chapter 9 ~ The Marshall

So it begins! It's so exciting!

I knew that Mando and baby Yoda walking in the street at night was going to be the opening scene. I started to think about it after watching the second trailer, and I'm glad that I was right.

It turns out that the red-eyed creatures were not jawas as I saw some people saying.

Baby Yoda was not happy with the little excursion to the fighting arena. Not walking on the streets nor inside watching the fight. I still laughed when he locked himself up in the pram, even if I've watched the trailer like a gazillion times by now and I knew he was going to do it.

And talking about the baby, he's getting more vocal I think. He's making a few new noises, whimpering more, which I'm not sure if it's a good or bad thing. That he complains more means that he feels safe with his buir and isn't afraid of retaliation for it as he probably was with others in the past and the reason he didn't cry much in season 1. But it breaks my heart that he is stressed. And that child is anxious, I can tell you that much.

The fight with Gor Koresh's thugs was awesome! The gamorrean flying to squash Mando and failing had me cracking up. And omg! Din'd moves! Using his helmet as a weapon and throwing his vibroblade. And leaving Gor Koresh to be eaten! Man of his word, he didn't kill the guy.

On a side note, I would've never guessed it was John Leguizamo who gave voice to Koresh until I saw the credits. Of all the actors who could play the part, I never thought of him.

Umm, I'm curious about the time Mando has spent in Tatooine, which according to him it's been a lot and it makes sense since he knows so much about the Tuskens, their language and culture. I'm guessing he spent a while among them. He had to learn all that somehow. 

When I speculated that Mando was going back to Tatooine after watching the trailers, I said that I was going to riot if he didn't visit his favorite mechanic. Thankfully, I didn't need to worry. I loved Peli in episode 5 of season 1 and I loved her even more now remarking on Din's dislike of droids and trying to keep the baby for herself. Not to mention she complaining about not getting good help these days 🤣

And I ADORE the (improvised?) Birikad Din got for the baby. Of course, the baby is safer in the pram, right (guessing that's why he used it when he met Gor Koresh), but there's something sweet watching him carrying his son so close to him.

And I tell you, Mando has been spending credits lately in baby stuff. I mean, he got a new pram (which I initially thought it was the original that he had somehow retrieved from the garbage in Nevarro, but no, it's not the same, and neither it's the one that Kuiil made) and he also got the bag/birikad thing, which looks brand-new. I wonder what else he bought.

Watching the droids doing maintenance of the Razor Crest makes me think it's all for nothing, knowing that in a few episodes (it might be even in the next one) Mando is going to crash the ship. More than once perhaps.

😆 The baby still loves speed! I think riding on the speeder bike was the only moment that he truly enjoyed in this episode. Look at that happy face 

When they arrived at Mos Pelgo and Din went into the cantina, leaving the baby outside, I was like: Din! That's not responsible. How can you leave your son out in the inclement sun, alone! Then baby Yoda peeked in and I went: never mind. I take back what I said.

Oooh. Cobb Vanth! I love him! For a moment, I thought it could actually be Boba but it seemed illogical and that's what Mr. Feloni and Mr. Favreau wanted us to think. I was correct.

My gawd! Din's shock when Vanth took the helmet off. I just knew he would freak out the moment Cobb asked for drinks and I said to drink they need to remove their helmets and Mando is going to lose it when this guy does. And the standoff! Was so good! "Take it off or I will" is going to become a quite popular phrase in fics from now on, not in the same context, but yeah…

The krayt dragon… oh shit! Or rather Dank farrik! We can't see Mando's face or expression but I can imagine which one was when he saw the dragon eating the bantha the first time.

Oh my goodness. The baby hiding in the pot! Too adorable! 

I know every hardcore SW fan lost it watching Vanth modified speeder because is a callback to the Phantom Menace and Anakin but my first thought was: is he compensating for something? Sorry, I couldn't help it 

The dog-lizard creatures were kinda scary at first but then became adorable. Almost as much as baby Yoda getting out of hiding

Baby Yoda doesn't like dog-lizards things. He looked afraid to be eaten I think. Poor little guy.

And look at that! Din showing such growth! To think he was the one incensing others in negotiation 😆 this is a total callback to the jawas in Arvala-7. And I gotta tell you, Din freaking loves his flamethrower. He doesn't waste the opportunity to use it.

The krayt dragon eating the Tusken raider instead of the bantha was quite of a plot twist 😆

When they were planning the attack on the dragon, Cobb Vanth's face when Din told him that the bones and pebbles were to scale, and then when he had volunteered the villagers to help… priceless! 

I like the fact of banding together with others for a greater good, relying on others to accomplish something is going to continue being the theme of this season. It started last season but I think it's going to be stronger this time around along all of the episodes.

😳😲😳😲 this thing vomits acid?! What. The. FUCK?!!!

Cobb: I don't think it's dead

Mando: me neither

Me, at the same time as Din: yeah, nope it's not dead

Oh yeah! Teaming up with jetpacks!

When they showed the bantha with the remaining explosives my first thought was why didn't they use all those before?! That's why they didn't kill it!! Of course, it was just an excuse to grant Din a more grand win in the end, but you know, it's stupid not to use everything you have to kill the monster on the first try. Just saying

Wait, what? Din! What are you going to do? No! Taking care of the child is your responsibility, not Cobb Vanth's! I hate this plan of yours, Din Djarin!! Whichever it is!

Oh! Nice callback to the flaw on that jetpack. But makes me wonder, do all the rising Phoenixes have the same flaw? Cuz unless Din knows Boba in person and that it's his armor with that particular flaw, it means it's a common problem for all and I don't like it.

Get away, Din! Get away, Din!! FLY AWAY!! AAAAAAAHHHHHH! NOOOOOO! 

There he is! Damn, Mando! Don't scare me like that! Altho, it was a nice move.

Okay, but now I want someone to explain something to me. If the dragon's acid melted people at contact before, how the hell is Din so whole? I mean, sure for argument' sake let's say his beskar armor provides some protection, but he's not entirely covered in it. His cape and undersuit seem just fine, albeit sticky. Where's the logic in that?

The tuskens getting the pearl reminded me of the jawas and the mudhorn's egg, chanting zukka, zukka (or however egg is spelled in Jawa).

That's quite a piece of meat. The baby is going to be happy eating off it for days🤣

😮😮😳😳 BOBA FETT!!!!! Yesssssss!!

Okay, I've seen other people's thoughts and some think that Boba was after Cobb Vanth because he had the armor, but I don't know. If that was true then why he hadn't gone to Mos Pelgo and got it? It seems to me that it's more likely that Boba is following Din somehow because it's the second time in as many Mando's visits to the planet that they sort of cross paths. Could they know each other? Have some score to settle? It's possible. Din has spent much time on Tatooine -his words, not mine- so it wouldn't be so out of consideration that they actually know each other. That if Mando knows Boba is (fake?) Mando, I don't know. Probably not, but who knows?

Extra thoughts

I gotta say that Ludwig Göransson is killing it with the score music! Oh. My. God! So so so so good! I could tell from the trailers that it was going to be awesome this season but it astounded me in chapter 9. Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous! My favorite piece is when they're going to the dragon's cave to kill it. The orchestral sound of the already familiar music blew my mind!

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (34/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I’m about to sit down to write some new words for the first time in about a month, and @shireness-says​ has permission to yell at me if I don’t. Now to decide what exactly I’m going to work on 🙈

Thanks to my beta @resident-of-storybrooke​ for reading all of these words and being a super cool and supportive human being. 

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-/-

September ends without anyone ever really noticing. The weather seems to get the hint, though, the daily temperatures in the eighties dipping down to the sixties for the high, and suddenly New York no longer feels and smells like melting concrete.

In truth, it’s amazing.

Killian loves summer and loves the feel of the sunshine beating down on his skin as he spends his days standing out on a baseball field, but there’s something special that happens when the leaves begin to change and the air has a crisp feel to it when he walks out of his apartment in the mornings to go to do his workouts or to physical therapy. It’s nice not to sweat as soon as he goes outside, and it’s even nicer to have the feeling that washes over him to know that his team is in the play-offs.

That starts today.

Nervous energy radiates over Killian, more than usual, and he’s not even playing today. He can’t quite yet, but he’s been approved to practice again and if all of that goes well, he’ll be able to play during the Championship Series which means he’ll qualify to play for the World Series.

If those things happen.

He’s getting ahead of himself. He tends to do that, especially lately when so much of his life is wanting and waiting for the future, and Killian definitely needs to put on the breaks.

But the smell of cinnamon is wafting through his apartment, the television is playing pre-game shows for the start of the Division Series today, and Emma is wandering around in a pair of thick socks pulled halfway up her calves with only an oversized sweater on and her curly blonde hair falling down her back in all of its unbrushed glory.

It’s been a crazy two and a half weeks full of them dealing with the fallout from the article and all of the trickle-down effects from it. Everything has been difficult. He won’t lie about that, but things are calming down a little more each day. Walsh has officially been fired from ESPN, and while Killian was tempted to take back his decision to not sue after Emma told him how Walsh confronted her in his office, he did eventually decide against it. The man isn’t worth it.

Contacting his father to confront him isn’t worth it either.

Killian thought about it, paced back and forth in his living room for hours thinking about it, but like he and Emma (and Liam and Elsa and David and Anna and Robin and every other person he knows) keep talking about, they want a reaction out of the two of them. They want to hurt them, and reacting in any ways more than absolutely necessary means that the bad guys win.

His father is not going to win. He’s taken enough. He won’t take anymore.

And if the pattern of photographers slowly disappearing from outside of his apartment door is going to be a pattern that continues, he thinks things will turn out just fine.

What crazy path to have to go through to get to fine.

His phone buzzes on the counter next to where he’s whipping together some oatmeal raisin cookies, much to Emma’s dismay since she insisted on him using chocolate chips instead of raisins.

She’ll never learn.

Robin: Are you coming to the game tonight?

Killian: Yep. I’ll be there. You didn’t think I was going to miss this, did you?

Robin: Possibly. Roland is very concerned that you’re not going to give us one of your famous pre-game talks, and we’re going to lose.

Killian: Tell Roland that I am giving a speech, if you guys still let me, and then I will be in the suite watching with him.

Robin: We’ll definitely still let you. I can’t wait for you to come back. It’s been too long.

Killian: Aye, it has. Soon though. You guys have to win so I don’t have to wait until March to come back.

Robin: I’ll try my best but no promises.

“How do you feel about this for the centerpiece on your dining room table?”

“Hmm?”

Emma slides her laptop across the island to show him her monitor’s screen where there are several artificial pumpkins and faux foliage in a long wooden tray.

“What’s this for again?”

Emma rolls her eyes at him, and he can’t help but smile at her as he cracks an egg over the edge of his bowl. “You said you were thinking about hosting Thanksgiving here. Your apartment is a very ‘a single man lives here’ place. I was thinking you might need something to make it more festive on the folding table you’re going to have to bring in here to accommodate everyone.”

“It’s October fourth.”

“And?”

“It’s October fourth.”

Emma huffs and reaches over to the bag of chocolate chips (okay, so he broke down and is making some with chocolate chips for her but only some) and grabs a few, popping them into her mouth. “I am aware of the date, Professor Jones.” He sticks his tongue out at her for her use of Will’s nickname. “I can’t look at my game notes anymore without going crazy, so obviously I’m online shopping for you to distract myself.”

“I mean, obviously. What else would you do to waste your time away?”

“Watch TV or go back to sleep. I could go pluck my eyebrows or read a book. But then I won’t know when the cookies are ready, and that’s all I’m really here for.”

“It’s going to be thirty minutes. Technically, I should refrigerate the dough for a day instead of popping it in the oven right away. It makes the cookies fluffier.”

“Yeah, but that’s too long.”

“Give me ten minutes, and I will come and look at your decorations that you’ve picked out for Thanksgiving, aye?”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Emma tells him as she gives him a mock salute and turns around to walk toward the couch, unceremoniously falling backwards down onto the couch so that her legs hang off the side.

Insane, wonderful woman.

Killian hums to himself as he finishes making the cookie dough, and even though he should let it cool for longer than this, he simply puts the bowl on a shelf in the fridge and turns the oven on, the number six flashing up on the menu to tell him it’ll be finished preheating in six minutes.

Emma’s still lounging on the couch, all of her attention focused on the pre-game show that’s on the TV and her fall decorations, and he takes the opportunity to lean down over her, pressing his hands into the soft material of the couch on either side of her shoulders and to dip his head down so that he can sweep his tongue into her mouth. She gasps at the sudden movement, even if she opened for him, and it causes him to smirk down at her as she shifts beneath him, giving him more space to settle between her legs with his knees on the couch. It’s a bit of awkward movement getting settled, especially with how Emma was laying down to begin with, but they figure it out soon enough as his hand snakes up underneath her sweater to feel the soft skin of her stomach and the firm flesh of her breast. He flicks his thumb against her nipple at the same time that he finally gets to sweep his tongue against hers once more, and he’s overwhelmed by the taste of chocolate.

She’s obviously been sneaking in a little more than he thought she was.

“How many chocolate chips have you eaten?” Killian chuckles as he palms her breast while her nails scratch just above the waistband of his shorts.

“That’s not important.”

He teasingly flicks her nipple. “But it is.”

“Nope,” she mumbles with this undeniable joy in her voice. “It isn’t.”

Sometimes he still can’t believe that Emma is his to kiss and to hold and to laugh with. There have been a million and one obstacles along the way, things he never even could have imagined, and yet they are still here.

Together.

Emma’s fingers dip between the waistband of his shorts, and he hisses at her touch before reaching his free hand up to tangle in her hair and kissing her with a purpose. She’s so damn soft and warm against him, every movement of her lips and her tongue sending a shiver down each of the vertebrae that make up his spine as her hands ghost over his growing arousal.

“Bloody hell, love.”

“That’s what you get for judging my chocolate consumption.”

He huffs against her and trails his lips over her jaw and down to behind her ear while his hand moves from her breast to lay flat against her stomach to keep her from writhing below him so much.

“You know I don’t like chocolate too much,” he says into her ear before biting down onto the lobe.

“But you like me.”

“Aye,” he chuckles before biting down a little possessively onto the skin of her neck right in a spot that he knows will show above the dress she’s wearing today, “that I do.”

“Don’t leave a mark.”

“I’m not leaving a mark.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not,” he whispers against the warmth of her skin while he purposely does keep working where she doesn’t want him to work at her skin. He won’t actually leave a mark.

Emma gasps in pleasure before moving her hands away from his waist and up to his chest to push at him. She’s strong, he’ll give her that any and every day of the week, but he’s larger than her and manages to press all of his weight down on top of her while he stops sucking a mark into her skin and simple laughs into her ear while his entire body rumbles with amusement.

“You,” she huffs, but Killian can still hear the smile in her face and feel her lips softly brush into the hollow of his throat, “are the most obnoxious man on the planet.”

“I know. I have the trophy in my bedroom.”

“Stop,” she groans, pushing at him again, and this time he listens, moving off of her and the couch only to pull her up with him. It’s probably a little too much on his shoulder, but Emma is a little slight thing and he’s feeling good this morning. She stumbles a bit when she stands, but he wraps his hands around her lower back and tugs her closer to him so that their chests are pressed together and Emma’s arms are loosely wrapped around his neck while she smiles one of the biggest smiles he’s ever seen that he absolutely has to taste. “You know, I thought this was going to go in a very different direction.”

The oven beeps behind him, and Killian dips his head down to pepper kisses across Emma’s cheek and over her mouth so quickly that every kiss is as fleeting as a whisper of air. “I had a timer going for those cookies that you keep complaining about. There was never going to be time for that.”

Her eyes roll as her fingers thread into the hair at the nape of his neck as Killian starts walking them back to the kitchen. “It’s not nice to tease a woman into thinking that she’s going to get some action and it turns out she’s only getting cookies.”

“That sounds like a euphemism.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Hmm, it should have been,” he laughs as he backs Emma up into the countertop so that he knows the stone is digging into her lower back. Killian squeezes her hips before running his hands down to her bare thighs and holding her there while his forehead presses against hers and their noses brush together. “I love you quite a lot, you know?”

“Funny thing, I love you quite a lot too. I also love cookies, so get on that, babe.”

“I thought you didn’t like that they were oatmeal.”

“I will literally eat anything. Also, I already ordered the centerpieces for Thanksgiving.”

“I expected nothing less.”

They spend the rest of the morning piddling around the apartment, not really getting anything accomplished before they both have to get ready to go. Emma, by nature of having to curl her hair and apply her makeup, takes much longer than him to get ready, so he straightens up a little before they leave. Emma’s things seem to spread like wildfire, and he’s not entirely sure she’ll ever be able to clean up after herself.

He doesn’t know how Ruby and Graham deal with it.

Then again, they don’t have to too often anymore.

A little smile creeps onto his face at the thought, his mind recalling Emma making a joke about them living together a few weeks ago, and that’s precisely when Emma walks out of the bathroom wearing a pair of skin-tight jeans with suede boots that go up to her thighs and a tight-fitting white sweater with her hair pulled back into a high ponytail.

“What?” she asks as she puts in a pair of dangling gold earrings in her ear. “Why do you have that goofy little smile on my face?”

“I was just thinking about how undeniably smoking hot my girlfriend is.”

Emma huffs and keeps putting her earrings in. “Those aren’t your usual eloquent words.”

“You’ve rendered me speechless today.”

Emma walks toward him, a sweet smile on her face, and leans down to press her hands on his shoulder and squeeze. “Good.”

And then she’s walking away from him with a pointed sway of her hips that has her ass looking absolutely spectacular. “Minx.”

“I try,” she yells from the hallway. “Come on, Jones. We’ve got a baseball game to go to, and I have to be early.”

-/-

They easily win the game against the Astros that night.

They also win the next night, even if it’s much more of a nail bitter. Killian swears that watching it from the sidelines is a million times more nerve-wracking than actually being an active participant. He feels every little mistake magnified, and his mind focuses on the mistakes more than it usually does. Instead of being able to compartmentalize, Killian keeps replaying everything to figure out how they could have done things better.

He can’t change the past, but there are always improvements to be made in the future.

Focusing on the entire game instead of simply his pitching changes the perspective, and he’s going to lose all of his nails if he has to continue completely watching from up in the family suite instead of getting to be a part of the action every few days. Belle and Ariel are fine to watch with and all, but it’s not what he’s grown used to.

The past six weeks haven’t been too terribly bad, at least recovery wise, but now that they’re one win away from moving on from the Division Series to the Championship Series, Killian isn’t sure that he can wait much longer to get back out on the field for something other than practice.

“Be patient,” Emma always tells him.

He’s trying, but it’s damn hard.

Off to Houston they go.

-/-

“Do you know we’ve been together for six months, and this is technically our first date?”

“And you only had to follow me to Texas for us to accomplish it.”

“You’re a very cheap date.”

Emma laughs as she hooks her arm into the crook of his elbow and walks a little closer to him while they walk down the sidewalk in downtown Houston. They’ve only been in town for two hours, and while the rest of his team is at the fields practicing for tomorrow’s game in what they all hope will be the last game of this particular series so they can get one step closer to the World Series.

He doesn’t even technically have to be here since he’s still on the injury list, and while the team didn’t pay for him to have a room at the hotel, he’s set in being able to stay with Emma.

So while the guys all work their asses off, he and Emma are free to wander around completely freely for the first time, well, ever.

It’s odd still not having to worry about anyone knowing that they’re together. He’s still accustomed to looking over his shoulder and around every corner for someone they know or for some inane photographer to be there. And while things are still a little crazy back home, no one is paying them any attention here.

And since Emma was very rudely heckled by a few fans (though that term is used loosely) at yesterday’s game, Killian is thankful to simply be able to get away from it all. They’re doing a damn good job at dealing with things, but there’s no need to feel the weight of the world on their shoulders – especially his if he thinks of it literally – all the time.

“So,” Emma starts as they dodge a slight puddle on the concrete, “are you still not going to tell me what we’re doing tonight?”

“Nope. I know how to plan an evening. You simply have to trust me.”

“I obviously trust you, you weirdo, but I’m curious. All I’ve figured out was that we’re not going to some stuffy restaurant, which was kind of a surprise to me.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re a romantic, Mr. Jones,” Emma sighs while she pats his forearm and rests her cheek against his shoulder. “You like to do things like get all dressed up and go to a candlelight dinner with wine and flowers and really expensive small food.”

Killian scoffs, incredulous. “That is not the only way to be romantic. Besides, we are not dressed for something like that. I don’t think they let in people with ripped jeans and white sneakers on.”

“Yeah, well, this is how you told me to dress. And you have on a plaid shirt over a t-shirt, so you’re not exactly dressed up either.”

“I thought you liked it when I dressed like this. Are you complaining?”

“No, Killian,” Emma breathes out, and he can practically feel the smile in her face, “I am not complaining. I simply want to know where we’re going.”

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to guide Emma along the sidewalk and follow the path that his phone told him to take. He swears that the GPS is leading him in circles and not to the destination, but then he sees the sign a bit of a way away and lets out a little sigh of relief.

“Swan,” he starts, stopping them in their tracks and placing his hands on her hips while a smirk stretches across his face, “you may not be a candlelight dinner kind of girl, but you are very much a smash old pieces of furniture up with a hammer kind of girl.”

Both of her brows raise high on her forehead. “What?” He nods his head to the building in front of them, and she turns around to look. It takes approximately five seconds for her to figure out. She spins on her toes and looks up at him with a smile that he swears reaches her ears. “I have never loved you more than I love you right now.”

“Exactly my intention.” He winks and places his hands on her ass, pushing her forward. “Now, come on, love. We’ve got a reservation.”

They hurry inside where Killian checks them in, and a woman comes out with safety equipment for them to slip into. They both look ridiculous wearing body suits and face masks to protect themselves from any flying shards of glass or pieces of wood from the broken downbroken-down furniture that they’re about to smash. Killian had simply been looking up things to do in Houston when he found this place where people pay to destroy furniture. Immediately, he knew Emma would love it, so he booked a reservation after texting Archie and making sure that his shoulder would be okay to wield a hammer.

From the absolute beaming joy on Emma’s face, he knows that he was right in his assumption of her loving this.

The room they get assigned to destroy is ironically a set-up of an old newspaper production office, and Killian is sure that Emma is very much pretending that all of the items in here belong to Walsh or his father or any other bastard who has hurt the two of them recently or in all of their years of life.

Smashing a hammer into a computer that has to be from the nineties is quite possibly the most cathartic thing that Killian has ever done.

Fuck Brennan Jones, Walsh Osbourne, Arthur King, and every other person who has ever hurt either of them.

And after the ten minutes of their session, Killian’s arms hurt from the exertion and his stomach hurts from the laughter of it all.

Totally worth it.

“Oh my God,” Emma breathes out when they walk out of the building back and into the crisp autumn air. They’re back in their regular clothes, sweat dripping down both of their backs, and their hair will likely never be normal again. “I take back all of my teasing about you having us go to some stuffy dinner. All of it.”

“Technically, there’s still time for us to go to one of those. It’s only eight.”

“Don’t even mess with me like that,” Emma laughs before pressing up on her toes to brush her lips over his. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to going to get something to eat.”

“I’ve got a plan for that.”

“You think of everything.”

“That I do.”

It’s a pie place two blocks over. He came here the last time they were in Houston and has been wanting to come back ever since. Pies usually aren’t his favorite thing, probably why he doesn’t bake them too often, but this place is downright delicious.

He’s also glad his workouts are back to being regular because the slices of rhubarb and key lime pie that he and Emma get are practically bigger than Emma’s head, and he fully plans on enjoying all of it.

Emma is taking large bites out of both her pie and his, as well as sipping on her mug of hot cholate, while telling him this story about David and Mary Margaret and how they have a penchant for going to karaoke bars on their date nights but usually only when they’ve had a few drinks. David is always willing to go, funnily enough, but Mary Margaret who seems like the exact type of person to enjoy singing songs and letting birds dress her in the mornings, will only go when she’s had at least two margaritas.

And for some reason they always sing We Are The Champions as if they have the vocal range of Freddie Mercury even when they’re not sober.

Killian would pay big money to see David Nolan, the perennial serious guy and protective older brother, willingly go and sing karaoke. In fact, he is very much offering to take the Nolans out one night when he gets more free time.

The smile that’s on Emma’s face mirrors the one she’s had all night, and Killian’s heart is suddenly struck with how much he loves her. She came into his life like a whirlwind, even if it was a slow going one, and Killian hasn’t looked back since.

It’s a funny thing. Love, that is. The world can be going up in flames around you with broken shards of glass having a trajectory straight to your heart, but none of that seems to truly matter when the person you’ve been vulnerable enough to give your heart to has a firm enough grip on it so that the cuts seem a little less deep.

Killian’s been in love before, and even though that relationship didn’t end well, he does know that it was love. But it’s not like this. It’s not this all-consuming thing where Killian can’t imagine living life eating pie in a diner with anyone else.

He’s known for a good while that his future, whatever it may look like, is going to be with Emma, but for some reason sitting with her and laughing with her while she’s got the smallest bit of whipped cream on the tip of her nose has truly cemented the idea in his mind.

And his heart.

Emma waves her fork in the air as she chews. “You’ve got that goofy smile on your face again.”

“I know not to which you are referring.”

She scrunches up her nose. “You’re thinking about David singing karaoke, aren’t you?”

“You know what, my love,” he sighs, “that’s exactly what I’m thinking about.”

“You know,” Emma sighs as she smiles at him with her fork full of pie, “that is a pretty good first date even though it’s not really our first date. I think I might like you, Killian Jones.”

Killian scoops up a bit of his pie. “Does that mean there’s going to be a second date?”

“And possibly a third, but don’t think that means I’m going to sleep with you.” She winks at him, and he can’t help but laugh. “A lady likes to be courted first.”

-/-

They win the next day.

Four more wins, and they’re going to the World Series.

It’s almost unreal, and yet it very much is real.

They’ve just got to beat the Red Sox first.

-/-

“Are you nervous?” Liam asks Killian two days later as he sits on the examination table in the hospital waiting for his doctor to come in with the results of his six-week follow-up MRI and the reports from Archie on how his shoulder’s movement is recovering.

He’s barely felt any pain in the past two weeks besides the occasional twinge, and while Killian has tried to tamper down the hope that things are going to be okay, it hasn’t worked. His mind is already imagining him underneath stadium lights standing on that mound with thousands of people cheering around him.

That’s one of the things that he lives for. Not the only thing but a damn important thing.

And he wants to be back.

He needs  to be back.

“Yes and no,” Killian tells his brother as his fingers tap against his thigh. “You didn’t have to come and wait for me, you know? I know you have your own patients.”

Liam shrugs his shoulder and sits down in the chair they leave for guests. “You said Emma couldn’t get out of a meeting at work, so I figured you’d want someone to be here.”

“I’m a grown man. I can handle going to the doctor by myself.”

“The fact that we’re in here right proves that isn’t true.”

“Ass,” Killian mumbles underneath his breath.

“I’ve made no claims to be anything else.” Liam looks damn proud of himself for having annoyed Killian, and it seems par for the course of things. “Are you surprised we haven’t heard anymore from Brennan?”

Killian’s teeth grind at just the sound of the name, but he quickly unclenches his jaw. “No. He wanted a reaction and more money. He didn’t get it. All that came from the bloody article was that I got followed around by cameras for three weeks and Emma had to put up with shit from men who are nothing more than assholes. Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking about it is all. Mom’s birthday is tomorrow, and that always makes me think of growing up, you know? I’m so much older than you and had such a different experience with them, and I do get a bit sentimental even if our father ended up simply being an over-involved sperm donor.”

“Funny, that’s how Elsa describes you.”

Liam reaches into the box of rubber gloves and snaps one at Killian only for him to catch it and for a smirk to slowly stretch across his lips. “And you call me an ass.”

“Being an ass is simply in our blood.”

“And yet two of the most incredible women in the world have chosen to spend their lives with us.”

Killian raises a brow. “Do you know something I don’t know?”

“No,” Liam chuckles, spinning in the chair. “I didn’t mean anything like that. Emma isn’t filing marriage papers or anything. I simply mean that the two of us, screw-ups that we are, have managed to get pretty lucky with both Elsa and Emma. It’s a big commitment to be stuck with a Jones man.”

“Ah,” Killian sheepishly sighs while reaching up to scratch behind his ear, “well, like you said, Emma isn’t technically stuck with me.”

“No?”

“No.” “And yet she wears mom’s ring around her neck. You hadn’t taken that off in years, and suddenly I see someone else wearing it.”

“Yep.”

“Yep? All you have to say to that is yep?”

“Aye,” he laughs, suddenly feeling a bit shier than he has in years. And it’s in front of Liam of all people. He hasn’t been shy in front of Liam in years. “Is that…are you upset about that?”

Liam’s brow pinch together, all of the lines on his forehead focusing in one place before they fall back to their normal spot and a soft smile graces his lips. “No, Killian, I’m not. I…there was a reason we each got the same amount of mom’s jewelry. She wanted us to give the pieces to the women we love. I’ve given pieces to Elsa, and you’ve given a piece to Emma. Mom would like that.”

“Would she? Do you think she’d like Emma?”

“She’d be obsessed with her. I think she may love her more than Addy and Lucy combined love Emma.”

Killian snickers as warmth spreads across his cheeks and his head nods up and down. “That’s a lot of love there.”

“There was a lot of love in her heart.”

His mouth opens to say something else, but then the door to the exam room is opening and Killian’s doctor is walking in with a clipboard and absolutely no emotion on his face.

“Do you want the good news or the good news?” he asks, and Killian’s heart leaps.

“Both.”

“Well,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, “as long as you continue to monitor your shoulder, you’re cleared to play again. Congratulations, Mr. Jones.”

[jmsa1287]

A Year in Review: The 31 Best Episodes of TV of 2019

There's never been more TV than this year. Thanks to the launch of new streaming services like Apple TV+ and Disney+ (with more to come in 2020!), there is an infinite number of hours of content out there. And while not all those TV shows are worth a watch, mot seasons of shows genuinely contain at least one great-to-amazing episode. The 31 episodes listed below are the ones that stood out the most; that either became part of the cultural conversation or were not well-watched but still resonated in a way that deserved more attention. Whether it was the writing, the acting, a visual moment or a hilarious scene, these selected episodes rose above the cut to show what TV can do in this unprecedented era.

31. “Striking Vipers,” Black Mirror Season 5, Netflix 

30. “Smell Ya Later,” Killing Eve Season 2, BBC America

29. “Chase Gets the Gays,” The Other Two Season 1, Comedy Central

28. “Refugees,” Ramy Season 1, Hulu

27. “Finish It,” The Deuce Season 3, HBO

26. “Chapter 7: The Reckoning,” The Mandalorian Season 1, Disney+ 

25. “Life’s a Beach,” Pose Season 2, FX

24. “Easter,” Better Things Season 3, FX

23. “Chapter 8: Overview,” The OA Season 2, Netflix

22. “Reborn,” Servant Season 1, Apple TV+

21. “Stories,” Broad City Season 5, Comedy Central

20. “Blondie,” High Maintenance Season 3, HBO

19. “The Trials and Tribulations of Trying to Pee While Depressed,” Euphoria Season 1, HBO

18. “The Bad Mother,” Big Little Lies Season 2, HBO

17. “405 Method Not Allowed,” Mr. Robot Season 4, USA

16. “1:23:45,” Chernobyl Season 1 HBO

15. “Dundee,” Succession Season 2, HBO

14. “Episode 9,” Mindhunter Season 2, Netflix

13. “401 Unauthorized,” Mr. Robot Season 4, USA 

12. “Take Me as I Am, Whoever I Am,” Modern Love Season 1, Amazon

11. “Part Four,” When They See Us Season 1, Netflix

Ava DuVernay's achingly painful "When They See Us" miniseries about the persecution of the Central Park 5 is capped off with its brilliant final episode; a showcase for Jharrel Jerome ("Moonlight") who undergoes a transformation here unlike any other actor on TV this year. Playing Korey Wise, we see Jerome go from happy-go-lucky New Yorker to a victim of the vicious prison system who is beholden to his truth despite its consequences. It is a harrowing 88 minutes of TV that is both devastating and beautiful, carried on the shoulders of Jerome's unparalleled performance.

10. “A God Walks Into a Bar,” Watchmen Season 1, HBO

The penultimate episode of "Watchmen," the buzziest show of the fall, is the most Damon Lindelof has been during this stellar season of TV. "A God Walks into a Bar" is a revealing episode in the same way as the last season of "The Leftovers," Lindelof's previous project. The episode reveals that for all of its surrealness and commentary about race and gender in our world, the "remix" of the popular comic book series is, at its core, a love story. Lindelof sets the episode as a classic cosmic joke but as it goes on, it exposes itself to be full of heart and emotion; about two people from different parts of the universe (and different parts of the space-time continuum?) connecting. At a bar. Over beer, conversation, and eggs.

09. “Strawberries,” Ramy Season 1, Hulu

Unlike anything depicted on TV, "Strawberries," the peak of Hulu's comedy "Ramy," created by standup Ramy Youssef, is told in flashback, tracking a young Ramy in the days leading up to and after 9/11. Seeing the event play out from the perspective of a young Muslim child in middle school is heartbreaking and raw; a highlight that is thoughtful, meditative, funny and surprising.

08. "Shook One Pt. II,” Euphoria Season 1, HBO

It's not until "Shook One Pt. II" that "Euphoria" finally clicks and finds its groove. Playing out at a carnival, the episode raises the dramatic stakes for the show's young cast, where creator Sam Levinson's bold aesthetic choices complement the intense tension on display. Part thriller, part romance and all edge, this episode of "Euphoria" features stellar performances from Zendaya, Hunter Schafer, Jacob Elordi and more.

07. “Volume 7: The Magician" + "Volume 8: The Hanged Man,” Too Old to Die Young Season 1 Amazon

It was hard to pick just one episode of Nicolas Winding Refn's twisted noir cop saga "Too Old to Die Young." The controversial auteur made a perfect thing for streaming age; somewhere between a film and a series. NWR said himself that you can watch the episodes out of order, or start from anywhere, which is sort of true. But it's the back-to-back episodes towards the back half of the series, "Volume 7: The Magician" and "Volume 8: The Hanged Man," that stand out the most; a chaotic and insane set of events that turn "TOTDY" on its head.

06. “Posh,” PEN15 Season 1, Hulu

"PEN15" is hands down the funniest show of 2019 but it's the Hulu series episode "Posh" — a thoughtful and insightful examination of racism in the 00s — that is the show's highlight. In the episode, BFFs Maya (Maya Erskine) and Anna (Anna Konkle) make their own version of the Spice Girls with a group of mean girls at their middle school for a class project. They force Maya, who is Japanese-American, to play Scary Spice — the only woman of color in the insanely popular British girl group, because Maya is the only girl of color among them. It sparks a deep divide between Maya and Anna that is explored in the short episode with maximum effect.

05. “DC,” Succession Season 2, HBO

Over the last few years, Americans have made Congressional hearings they're own sort of perverse reality show. So, it's no surprise that "Succession" would go there and put members of the Roy family on display and under scrutiny. The main targets here are Tom (Matthew Macfadyen) and Cousin Greg (Nicholas Braun), who have to answer a number of questions about Waystar Royco's handling of alleged sexual assaults and crimes involving the company's cruise line. "Succession" had been building up to this moment since early Season 1 and the payoff is both cringe-worthy and hilarious.

04. “The Great War and Modern Memory,” True Detective Season 3 HBO

Filmmaker Jeremy Saulnier's ("Green Room," "Hold the Dark") crack at a TV show is nothing short of spectacular. With "The Great War and Modern Memory," he establishes an unsettling mood and tone to the third installment of "True Detective," a somber story about two cops investigating the disappearance of two young children over the span of several decades. The episode is poetic and solemn, featuring two mind-blowing performances from its stars Mahershala Ali and a career-best Stephen Dorff. They're both in tune with what kind of show they're in, selling creator Nic Pizzolatto's writing, which coming out of the mouths of other performers would likely sound dreadful.

03. “Episode 1,” Fleabag Season 2, Amazon

Filming a dinner scene is not as easy as it looks. For the first episode of the second season of the outstanding "Fleabag" both writer/creator/star Phoebe Waller-Bridge and director Harry Bradbeer hit out of the park. It's a whirlwind of an episode where PWB's Fleabag character literally tells the audience Season 2 is a love story, which, of course, involves the so-called Hot Priest (Andrew Scott). "Episode 1" is fast, zippy, and manages to get most of the show's cast in one room, featuring wonderful performances from not only PWB and Scott but also Olivia Coleman, Sian Clifford and Brett Gelman. It's a chaotic half-hour of TV that has a kinetic energy unlike anything else this year, taking an awkward family dinner to its limits.

02. "Series Finale Part 2: Hello, Elliot,” Mr. Robot Season 4, USA

The series finale of “Mr. Robot” is as emotional as it is shocking. Sam Esmail sticks the landing with his hacking drama, turning a story about a vigilante and his crew trying to right the wrong world into a personal journey of a young man struggling with deep trauma. It’s a beautiful sendoff, that is fully satisfying and a magnificent accomplishment of modern television.

01. “Never Knew a Love Like this Before,” Pose Season 2, FX

"Pose" proved itself to be an uplifting and hopeful show, uprooting cliched and tragic stories about trans people we've come to see on screen and instead, opts to show us something beautiful. But its "Never Knew a Love Like This Before" that is 2019's best episode of the year — a heart-wrenching and unexpected boom and a reminder that trans people, especially trans women of color, are often in danger. Here, Candy (an out-of-this-world performance from Angelica Ross), who orbited around the main cast in the series, is murdered. She returns to her funeral in spirit, having in-depth conversations with her friends, enemies and frenemies. Pray Tell (Billy Porter) honors her by moving forward with her wish — a lip-synch category for the balls that he previously rejected. It's a beautiful story about the history of queer culture that's personalized in an unexpected way.

[justablobfish]

Baking Christmas cookies

Day 11 of my Advent Calender. A new drabble or oneshot everyday until Christmas, following the Continent’s favourite found family and what they’re up to in the winter season. Based on this prompt list

Read on AO3

Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

______

"And why exactly do I have to help you with this?" Yennefer sighs. 

"Because," Ciri replies and points her index finger at Yennefer accusingly. "There's still no word from Jaskier on when he'll arrive at Kaer Morhen this year, Geralt has brought back a fresh vanilla plant yesterday, but he's still injured from that drowner contract and needs to rest, Lambert is forbidden from the kitchen after he got drunk with Aiden and they raided the pantry and Eskel says he can't bake," she lists off, adding another finger for each name. 

"And I can?" Yennefer asks sceptically. "I've also never baked anything before."

"Well, you mix some stuff and then heat it up," Ciri muses. "I'm sure it's not much different from alchemy!" 

"Okay, fine," Yennefer sighs. "If Jaskier can do it, how hard can it be?" 

"Great!" Ciri beams. "I put all the ingredients over there. Now we just need to follow the instructions Jaskier wrote down for me. First up: Collect the vanilla from the vanilla plant. Hmm." 

They both stare at the flower in silence. Just like last time, Geralt had brought the entire plant with him, roots and all. 

"Well, don’t expect me to know what he means, ugly one," Yennefer shrugs. "I have no idea what part he expects us to use. Now if you wanted me to make a poison, I'm your woman, but…" 

"Okay, we'll answer that question later," Ciri decides. "Let's start with the flour instead. Can you measure the amount Jaskier wrote down?" 

"Sure," Yennefer shrugs, grabs the bag of flour and a large bowl off the kitchen counter and starts pouring. 

A moment later a cloud of white fog rises into the air and engulfs the sorceress. 

"Not. A. Word," Yennefer hisses once the dust has settled again. 

"Uhm," Ciri huffs. 

"Don't you dare!" Yennefer threatens. 

"I think you need to-" 

"Yes, I was supposed to pour it slowly. I can see that now," Yennefer snaps. "Thanks for the heads up!" 

"Maybe we should get Eskel after all. It seems there's a ghost in the keep!" Ciri teases before she bursts out laughing at the sight of Yennefer covered in flour from the waist up. 

"Are you done?" Yennefer sighs, though she can't keep a slight grin from creeping into her features, either. Ciri, meanwhile, is holding her belly and has to steady herself against the kitchen counter, she's laughing so hard. 

"Oh, you match Geralt now! Your hair is just as white!" she giggles once she's managed to catch her breath again. 

"Well, does it suit me?" Yennefer asks and slowly turns around herself. 

"Nah," Ciri decides. "You just don't pull the pale-as-death-look off as well as Geralt does." 

"Bummer," Yennefer shrugs and returns to measuring the flour. 

"Okay, that's done," she declares eventually. "What's next?" 

Ciri glances at the recipe. "We need some eggs, but only the yolk, apparently. I didn't know they made eggs like that?" She looks at Yennefer, uncertain. 

"They don't," Yennefer states, happy that there's finally something she knows. "But you can separate it somehow. I only ever watched my mother do it, though, I was never allowed to help."

"Well, the most powerful sorceress on the continent can handle anything!" Ciri cheers. "How hard can it be?" 

Encouraged by that, Yennefer grabs the first of the two eggs Ciri laid out and, just like she had watched her mother do all those years ago, cracks it against the edge of a fresh bowl. 

Both women watch as the deep orange yolk washes over the rim of the cracked eggshell and mixes with the white in the bowl. 

They stare for a moment longer, but the yolk doesn't magically separate from the white. 

"Maybe the egg was faulty?" Ciri offers. "Try the other one!" 

Yennefer does as instructed, though with the same result. Before she can even attempt to catch the yolk in one of the eggshells, it already mixes with the white. 

"Now what?" Yennefer asks, uncertain. 

"Those were the only eggs left in the pantry," Ciri pouts. "If you want to try again, we'll have to go out into the barn and get some more." 

Exasperated, Yennefer rubs the bridge of her nose. Her fingers come away dusted with flour. 

"Many things can be said about me," she sighs. "But I'm not a quitter! Let's go!" 

Inside the chicken barn it's warm and cozy. The smell of hay, corn and the distinct scent of animals hangs in the air. 

Nervous clucking and fluttering erupts as they step closer to the nesting boxes on either side of the room. 

"Where do you think they hide the eggs?" Ciri asks as she looks around with a puzzled look on her face. 

"Right here," Yennefer grins and pulls open one of the drawers underneath a particularly puffed up looking hen. At the centre sits a large, brown egg. Ciri's eyes go wide with wonder. 

She steps closer to one of the boxes as well and attempts to open it, though it's occupant has different ideas. 

The hen flutters its wings and jumps forward with an indignant cluck. Ciri yelps and scrambles backwards, tripping over her feet in the process. 

Roused by the commotion, several more chickens decide to abandon their posts and flit around the room until the only thing visible is a whirlwind of feathers. 

The ruckus settles again and Yennefer is presented with the picture of Ciri, sitting on the floor with a shocked expression, while one of the hens is perched on top of her head, making a mess of her ashen hair and clucking contently. 

"Do not move, ugly one!" Yennefer whispers, barely able to contain a giggle. "You have been chosen!" 

"Chosen for what?" Ciri whimpers, though she does hold as still as possible. "Don't I have enough destinies to fulfill already?" 

Slowly, Yennefer steps closer. The hen eyes her warily, but does allow the sorceress to pick her up and place her back in an empty nesting box. 

"There's still something in my hair!" Ciri whines. "Don't tell me it took a shit on my head!" 

"No, look!" Yennefer purrs as she reaches into Ciri's hair once more and produces another egg, white this time. 

"Well this one has to work!" Ciri declares. "It's the chosen egg! Let's go back in!" 

"Third time's the charm!" Yennefer prompts once they've brought the two eggs back to the kitchen. 

She cracks the white egg on the edge of a bowl and indeed, the yolk remains inside one of the cracked halves of the shell, allowing her to carefully drip the egg white into the bowl. 

"Hooray for the egg of destiny!" Ciri cheers. "Unfortunately, we need two yolks. Do you think the other one will work as well?" 

"One way to find out!" Yennefer calls out and cracks the second egg, producing another firm and separable yolk. 

"Those other eggs were faulty!" Ciri yells. "What fraudulent ploy is this?" 

"Well, as long as we got it now," Yennefer soothes. "What's next?" she adds, excitement over her success getting the better of her. 

"Now we just mix all the ingredients together," Ciri reads from the recipe. 

While they're busy kneading the dough, Vesemir joins them in the kitchen to start preparing dinner. He advises them on what to do with the vanilla plant, but strategically doesn't ask why there's a ghost and a scarecrow baking cookies in his home. 

The cookies turn out delicious. 

[amieyhko]

Escapril 2019

escaprilday 2019 // 1: a fresh start

two Costco bags full of

umma-certified clean clothes,

“unpacking cannot begin with wet clothes”

Taipei humidity is unkind.

coins clink,

white noise revs

drowning out the drizzle

as heart somersaults

to the rhythm of the cycles:

what — tum — am I — ble

doing — tumble — here?

the darks tumble its final spin

as the lights

click —

into a stop.

a whiff into a warm towel

warns me the comforts of home,

promising

of munchies, blankies, and speedy wifi

of cushy floor space where crafting

and writing past midnight can be done in secret

but —

fold — maybe — toss — I changed —

yellow blouse — or gave up too easily —

fold — or could it be —

toss — I’m listening to all the wrong voices? —

red turtleneck — no — flick —

wait, this is so soft now, I guess the washing machine in that guest house in Seoul was indeed really terrible —

fold — yes, this is how it should feel on my skin —

toss – my heart knows, though —

fuzzy sock — maybe home is where I need to be right now —

into basket — there’s nothing wrong with —

grab — starting over again.

escaprilday 2019 // 2: april showers

you said all memorable moments

include an unexpected deluge

I nod and laugh

as the metro ac pierces through

my drenched jacket

I shiver as I feel my clammy socks

cling onto my not-rainproof Docs

("they're not?" you ask in shock)

ears ringing still

from speakers booming

throat scratchy from scream-singing

at the top of our lungs.

still, you smile, shiver, and say,

with half-dazed eyes,

all good memories

end in rain.

escaprilday 2019 // 3: incorporate music

“Hope I’m not tired of rebuilding”

at this in-between

this time of heating up lukewarm lattes

and microwaving soggy french fries,

a surrendering of old and new

kindles a familiar tune:

“not what’s easy, what do you want?”

at this in-between,

the seconds between a squat and a jump

or the hours during an endless free fall,

a whisper sings an awakening:

“even a phoenix dies”

so at this in-between

muster up the strength to

inhale blue

and exhale gold.

escaprilday 2019 // 4: anxiety

lacuna

¡amiga!” he chimes like clockwork

with a sonrisa that has probably charmed plenty of hearts.

my fist bumps his and I walk toward the dark halls

where they tilt their heads forward and say

“안녕하세요” they grin,

some fake, others genuine,

mostly muscle memory.

“哈咯“ she greets as I turn the corner—

a sound of familiarity.

the velcros on my lips finally relax

till we part ways to our stations

“how are you?” their words flow dry

they probably don’t want to find out

my tongue lands on one syllable:

“good”.

escapril 2019 // 5: back to nature

I’ve a secret spot for seeing stars in Taipei City.

after a day downtown,

blasting my headphones at damaging decibels,

fixing makeup with samples at drugstores,

and chasing after buses,

I skip down the announced “platform two for Taipei Zoo”

and gaze down at the light show stage named Zhongxiao Fuxing.

as the red greens, a rush of headlights streams at me—my eyes

lose focus, my heart

leaps back into my chest just as

the home-bound metro approaches.

//

I’ll always remember the yard at Tiszavasvári

where we lay to see a starry night drawn by the Creator

after a day of listening to screaming children,

braiding their hairs,

and chasing after the impossible ones,

we stood in awe, jaws dropped, then soon learned

our necks weren’t strong enough

so we lay down, evening breeze

accompanied by the crickets sang a lullaby—

my eyes played a senseless game

of connect-the-dots, my heart skipped several beats

as I let go of the memories of beds and blankets.

escapril 2019 // 6: nostalgia

missing you is easy.

remembering you creeps

up in little mundanities

like a cup of fruit tea

a bottle of Clorox

or an inappropriately loud laughter--

to my consolation, yours is unmatchable.

although,

the sound of your laughter rings

quieter

till I can whisper:

escapril 2019 // 7: start with a time of day

3 a.m.

why wait

for dawn when

we can set yesterday

up

in flames

over this river?

escapril 2019 // 8: love poem

I cannot recall the exact words uttered

but something in my heart fluttered:

our eyes met for a millisecond

we cracked, till our breaths weakened.

our words, lost in the waves

transformed into safes

I open in my heart of hearts

to feel at home within the laughs of your loves.

escapril 2019 // 9: focus on the color

chorok hadn't found its form in

korean of old. fields of

grass and evergreens,

little plates of herbal banchan,

lush of summers,

and squirming caterpillars

all existed as paran-- that same

color ascribed to vast oceans,

and sunny skies

then one lively spring, chorok

creeped its way into our tongues,

demanding to be seen on

street signs,

the mountain tops, and

cross walk lights

though some still speak "the light

turned paran",

and the incorrigible children's tune

singing of spring

blossoming into paran,

chorok sprouts an entrance

undeniable to out naked eyes.

escapril 2019 // 10: femininity

the bus,

back slides down on the uncomfortable bus seat,

fingers stroke through my freshly buzzed head,

while many eyes fixate above my eyes,

asking:

"is she a boy or a girl?"

"is she a lesbian?"

"what happened to her… hair?"

eyes read their faces,

mouth struts a big yawn with no reflex system telling me to conceal it.

imagination floats to a stadium,

feet stands on the podium,

voice declares:

I'm still so-very-much a lady--

just not fair like Audrey,

nor dainty like a stereotype,

or as brave as Joan,

and definitely not as attractive than most

but maybe more like

the ones writing history

now.

escapril 2019 // 11: not from your perspective

most of the time I sit beside the maroon sofa

where you watch tv and transform into a potato

I wait and wait for that sweet moment

you grab my handle

travel me to a flat desk

wind me up with thread

hook me up to a pedal

switch my light on

smooth out a piece of fabric

pinned up in zig zag

then

zoom, crackle, buzz,

your hands sync to my rhythm

you pray I don’t jam

or break your thread

then you announce with pride

“et voila!”

escapril 2019 // 12: spring cleaning

it takes two countries

few cities

thirteen houses

fifteen boxes

thirty trash bags

and an infinite repetition of

"do we need this?"

for a soul to grasp the spider web line

between a desire and a necessity.

then a decade teaches the

same soul

sometimes,

spectrums soften

escapril 2019 // 13: celestial bodies

if only

seeing you was as easy as

some nightly glow at your half

reflecting off

a big blazing ball of light on my half

escapril 2019 // 14: make it rhyme

a sonnet-full of embellishments, fake

notions of how lovely you are like some

weather in summer or spring, homemade cake

that tastes like cheap flour and rotten eggs, numb

from clichés, the love songs that never shut

up, posed photos of arms around my waist,

a let-me-take-that gentleness, so what

are you doing? leaving sour aftetaste

in our hearts. no, this sonnet is not for

us. we don’t need guidelines to fall in love,

nor the recipes known to prevent war

(it cannot be all fair in war and love),

so stop. steep in this silence as your hand

finds mine in this complicated quicksand.

escapril 2019 // 15: describe a smell

a dash of prickliness:

prickly, like appa’s beard attacking my forehead as he plants a kiss.

then an overwhelming sense of saltiness:

salty, like that time I accidentally used the spoon side of the seasoning bottle

or tasting my own sweat or tears.

something rotting at slow decay.

fruit flies feast.

my nose shoots me back to

halmoni yelling something in dialect, umma replying.

I stand in the middle of the market square, I’m ten.

they promised me jjajangmyeon,

my nostrils can hold out just a minute more.

escapril 2019 // 16: any dreams?

five—

I was to be a Pokemon trainer by day

and Sailor Moon by night

but adults hung my creativity dry

seven—

a singer-songwriter

but music chose me not

ten—

fashion designer,

draw designs, sew coutures, walk the runway myself

but whispers yelled discouragements

fifteen—

couldn’t care: I was a realistic teen

now—

I tip-toe about my heart

trying my best not to pick on scabs,

unable to answer any questions

albeit an I-don’t-know

has never sounded more

comforting and clear.

hear the wounds heal

to the beat of the unicorn hooves.

escapril 2019 // 17: body as friend or foe

I was born in Guatemala,

but my father’s from Georgia

he’s a musician, he produces

K-pop albums and we travel the world

searching for the next big deal,

my mother paints apples, she’s from Zimbabwe

she also writes Chinese poems.

It’s all true—

my body deceives every bit of reality within me.

escapril 2019 // 18: a happy place

hear nose tickle

with the sound of lavender feathers

fluttering by

eyes will open up to inhale

the golden hours spent

under Your glorious dance

escapril 2019 // 19: without your name, who are you?

if an utterance of a name

can form a heart,

her name has been called by many

if each spoken word forms

a vibration into what we are,

she's a someone

whispered into a myriad of paradoxes:

she's an asteroid, crashing fast,

uncontrollable, unexpected.

she's a cup of tea, calm,

idle, ready for nothing.

escapril 2019 // 20: a liminal space

this amorphous ground feels comfortable,

excuses acceptable:

the excruciating humidity,

drowsy rain, busy friends,

false pride, miscalculating time.

they say:

Prufrock measures his life in coffee spoons,

but Zeno says nothing ever reaches its destinations.

the Knight holds his tongue

yet his heart flutters a violent beat.

I’m just another contra, letting my feet skip away

as each step echoes heart beating somewhere

back.

escapril 2019 // 21: it’s the end of the world

no zombie apocalypse,

the sun still functions,

stars are still, hearts

unbroken, no one

escaping to Mars,

no fatal goodbyes.

one silent pink noise

a purple glow,

“welcome back home”

it said.

escapril 2019 // 22: nourishment

last month, I met a little

potted plant.

I took it back to my little

suffocating room

and named it little

foggy star.

I loved it little

by little

I gave it little

droplets of water,

spoke little

words of compliment,

took it to my little

window sill

the sun peeped through

a little.

it grew a little,

I did too.

escapril 2019 // 23: when the party’s over

recollect spilled laughters —

this, for unworthy jokes,

that, for suave comments,

maybe one for someone dreamy —

bottle them up,

keep them fresh

for the next sea of

stragglers,

mutual someone,

you-look-quite-nice,

wow-so-interesting.

escapril 2019 // 24: liar, liar

how to be a compulsive liar

one: disregard empathy, embrace despondency, think selfish,

my life doesn’t have to tell truth tales, no one needs to know.

two: rehearse recollections, think practicality, use names they’d never check,

let myself believe in each detail, each sight, smell the scenario

three: speak the perfectly fabricated phrases into existence,

no need to bat an eye, stutter a detail, overthink a loophole.

for example: “yeah, the party was fun. we walked around the park afterwards.

who? oh no, he wasn’t there. he had an important family dinner.”

four: remember the lie, inform reliable partners in crime if necessary,

never bring it back, stick to your guns.

promise yourself: they can’t hurt, they’ll never know.

remember: truths hurt, they’re inconvenient, it’s none of their business.

dig: until your shovel breaks.

drown out: every kindness the world has to offer.

die: in the said dug hole, climb out just to

repeat: until trust is a pair of cracked glasses, refuse to see a redemption until

die again: learn that these walls must go —

invite: the uncomfortableness that is vulnerability

repeat: until system reboots.

escapril 2019 // 25: pick an animal

my giraffe friend

shades me when the sun’s high

and warms me when the wind’s rough,

meeting her eyes pains me with

an aching neck,

she will always stand tall in a room,

there’s no shelf too high for me,

when she’s close by.

escapril 2019 // 26: girlhood, boyhood, childhood

when I was older, I had a pair of

very pink sneakers

they'd glitter in the sun,

glamoured in gemstones for dignity

velcros loud enough to turn heads

when it was time to take them off

I glanced over my neighbors' shelves:

ugly. blue. brown. ugly. mine trampled over all.

then my eyes stood silent

as I zone in

on her pair of Gundam sneakers

secretly jealous, mostly confused,

extremely frustrated of rule-breaking

girls, defying pink, watching animation

for boys only

now, I wear boring black or white shoes

so do most humans with feet.

escapril 2019 // 27: the state of it all

“you're it!”

a harmless push from their arms

my chest thrusts back

limbs under a spell

all bones removed

“catch me if you can”

why don't you save me

'cause you can?

escapril 2019 // 28: reflection

memories retraces a blur

crooked smile

red dye fading

cigarette between your fingers

standing mostly on your right leg--

you let out a puff as i tell you “i’m imaginary.”

you say you couldn't have

so i tease you more with a kiss

“that wasn't real

that was you imagining it all

new school

a manic pixie

the loneliness got to your brains

that's all”

you flick away the cigarette

eyes reflecting my face

you kiss me back and say

“please don't do this to my brain

you're real

far too real for me i'm not smart like that”

i snicker

the buzzing bus terminal is real

you and i are real

but i'm not

you're no more

escapril 2019 // 29: may flowers

she died a few days ago—

flew off the rooftop

fallen against teeming

reborn lives

the most beautiful of flowers

only last a day or two

you said we are beautiful

because we’re ephemeral

but what happens when

fleeting moments like

a crash kilometers away

pain for someone I never knew?

escapril 2019 // 30: catharsis

yesterday, I cleaned out my room

bugs infested each and every corner

I tried to catch them but they

hid away between the nooks and crannies

whispering schemes to each other

learning the dustiest corners I’ve ignored

waiting for a perfect time to kill

so I dusted out the corners

rearranged the furnitures

repainted the scratches

thinking cover-ups should make anew

yesterday, I cleaned out my room

praying for the bug spray to kill,

I felt seventeen, rearranging photographs,

filling up a space with desired personalities,

she would have been proud

there’s nothing I’d tell her, but to say

yesterday, I cleaned my room, for another hundredth time

they say an odyssey is a cycle

ending with a catharsis

where you come clean

but yesterday, I cleaned my room

again

[artificialqueens]

Royals 4/9: I'm a Star and I'm Burnin' Through You (Branjie)- athena2

A/N: Thank you to everyone that’s read and left feedback! B and V are getting closer in this chapter, and I hope you all enjoy! A thousand thank you’s to Writ for betaing, you’re absolutely awesome! Your comments mean so much to me, and I would really appreciate it if you leave some for this chapter!

Chapter title from Love song by Lana Del Rey

—

In hindsight, the eggs were probably a step too far.

But this ‘spend a month with Brooke’ plan sounds exactly like something her mother would dream up, and it most likely would have happened even without throwing eggs at Brooke’s door.

They had definitely moved it along, though.

Hopefully Brooke knows she’s not to be messed with now, and won’t try to murder her in retaliation. Just because she didn’t follow rules as intensely as Brooke, or turn rigid as a soldier around her parents–she noticed Brooke do that this morning, there’s definitely some secrets in the Hytes castle–didn’t mean she wasn’t a good princess. Since when did following rules and doing well in lessons become the only qualifications of worth anyway? Though throwing eggs definitely wasn’t on the list, either.

Vanessa has always known she’s lovable, grins and handshakes and agreements blooming where she tred. She’s won over lords and ladies, princes and princesses. Her parents said she could walk into a room and have people on her side in minutes. So why couldn’t she act that way towards Brooke? Vanessa had fun skirting the rules for all they were worth, but what about Brooke made her take it to the point of throwing eggs? She thinks back to their interactions, trying to picture them clearly this time, not tinged with hatred. Brooke has been polite to her, if a little cold and condescending, but she probably didn’t deserve what Vanessa had done. She had overreacted. Again. It’s been a problem the past year—overreacting, letting her temper take control, not knowing when to stop acting out. Maybe she can be nicer tomorrow, turn on some of her charm. She knows the alliance is important to her parents, and she doesn’t want Brooke and her family angry at them. Besides, the month will only be even worse if she and Brooke aren’t on speaking terms.

Her thoughts are pierced by howling outside her window that chills Vanessa to the bone. Inside this creepy castle, where it already feels like the walls watch her, she can’t be sure the howls don’t sound like her name.

Great. Not only does she have to worry about Brooke poisoning her breakfast, but there’s also a chance she might get eaten by wolves. They probably wouldn’t even find her body out in the woods.

She rolls over in bed and sighs. This damn wedding couldn’t come fast enough.

—

Vanessa pulls on her favorite dress, gold swirling around her like the sun’s rays. If she has to spend an entire day with Brooke, she’s at least going to look good while she does it. She always wore her sun necklace with it, but that’s long gone now.

A knock at the door signals the start of the day’s suffering.

Brooke stares at Vanessa’s dress so long it’s like she’s trying to find the individual fibers in it. Vanessa’s cheeks burn as Brooke’s eyes take her in; it’s probably just anger. “You can’t go out there like that,” Brooke says, matter-of-fact, and all thoughts of being nice fly out the window.

The heat in her cheeks spreads to her whole body. “Now you’re telling me how I can dress? It’s bad enough I have to spend the day with you. I’m wearing what I want.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just…if you go out there obviously dressed like royalty, people might not be happy to see you.”

That’s not something she had considered, admittedly. She gave up on pretending to be someone else last year and flaunted around the city square in fancy dresses, not caring who saw her. People were always excited to see her, talking and smiling with her, telling her their stories. Figures that can’t happen in the north. This is the place where joy comes to die.

She can tell Brooke is serious–who is she kidding? Brooke is always serious. Vanessa thinks her whole face might crack if she were to smile. But there’s something–maybe an ounce of fear that passes across her face before it resumes its steely mask so quickly Vanessa might have imagined it–that makes her think she should listen, that Brooke knows what it’s like to have people unhappy at her presence.

“Fine. Do you need to watch me change?”

Brooke leaves and Vanessa exchanges the gold dress for a dull gray one, pulling her black winter cloak tight over herself. She can’t say they don’t fit her mood.

“Let’s get this misery over with,” she brushes past Brooke.

—

The village is a few minutes’ walk down the road, and it’s nothing like the bustling village home. The cobbled streets are a dusty gray brushed over by people with scowls plastered on their faces and eyes staring icily. Everyone seems hunched over, like the same force keeping their lips downturned is also dragging them toward the ground. It’s much quieter than her village; no children laughing or merchants chatting with customers. Two guards dressed in regular clothing trail a few feet behind them.

“Why did guards have to come with us? I thought no one is supposed to know who we are.”

“Well, not all of us parade around and fight people without guards–”

“I could handle myself,” Vanessa insists. She doesn’t bother telling Brooke that she wasn’t even the one to get in those fights. “Obviously you can’t take two steps from your door without someone watching you. Do you faint like an old lady or something–”

“It’s my father’s orders. They come in normal clothes and no one notices. It’s for our safety,” Brooke informs her, leaving no room for argument. “Look, I don’t like them any more than you do. I wish I could do one thing without people watching me.”

She’s about to retort that Brooke probably loved having people watch how perfect she is, but something holds her back. Brooke is less steel and more silk today, bags under her eyes dulling some of her sharpness. Maybe Brooke is just pretending to be nice, trying to talk normally to her, but maybe she really does mean it. And maybe Vanessa should do more to make this work and keep her parents happy. Either way, Vanessa understands, and she nods in agreement.

“Sometimes it feels like I can’t even take a bath in peace.”

“Yes,” Brooke agrees, nodding fiercely.

“It’s like you can’t just be you. Nothing you do is your own. There’s always something else involved.” It’s a feeling she was born into, royal rules and standards dictating a lot of her life, but it didn’t settle into her bones and cloud her mind, didn’t really squeeze her like a vise, until last year.

Brooke doesn’t speak, but her eyes are deep with knowing, and it occurs to Vanessa that she’s probably the only other person who can understand something like that.

Any further connection is interrupted by a woman swinging her basket in rage after leaving a butcher shop, almost beheading Vanessa. Another miserable northerner with a scowl, eyes on the ground rather than the light blue sky above.

“Is there a law against smiling here?” Vanessa demands.

Brooke shrugs. “It’s not a common practice. People mostly keep to themselves.”

“Well, I’m hungry,” Vanessa whines. “Do they have lunch in the village, or is that not a common practice either?”

And she swears, just for a second, that Brooke’s lips quirk up into a half-smile.

—

Brooke doesn’t talk freely; Vanessa discovers that their second day, as they chew roasted chicken sandwiches for lunch in a silence that makes her restless, but she answers questions like they’re in a lesson and she’s receiving marks for her responses.

When Vanessa’s voice grows hoarse after a day of rambling to fill the silence, she asks Brooke questions about the north and its villages. Brooke gives her answers like a human history book, and Vanessa is back in lessons all over again.

“Alright, let’s talk about something else,” Vanessa cuts off Brooke after her innocent question about northern trees becomes a lecture on tree bark exports. She wracks her brain for something to get them through the next hour until they went back to the castle as painlessly as possible. “What’s your favorite color?”

“I hardly see how that’s relevant,” Brooke splutters. “Surely there’s more important things–”

“Just answer the question.”

Brooke’s mouth opens but nothing comes out. It’s the first question she doesn’t have an answer ready for, and Vanessa wonders how she knows a dozen uses for tree bark and history going back several centuries but has to think about her favorite color. Was it possible that no one had ever asked her?

“What’s yours?” Brooke counters.

“Yellow,” Vanessa responds without hesitation. Yellow like the sun, like the lemon candies in her village, tart and sweet in the same bite, like the birds welcoming the morning outside her castle window. “Now you answer.”

Brooke bites her lip. “White,” she says finally.

“White?”

“Yes. Like the snow when it falls all fluffy like a cloud.” For a second, her voice has the wonder of a child and her eyes shine.

Vanessa nods, glad she didn’t laugh at Brook for choosing a boring color before hearing her explanation. She guesses the snow can be pretty, when it’s not numbing your legs. She’s just a little surprised that Brooke likes it so much when she sees it every year, but Vanessa supposes that just because something’s familiar doesn’t mean it can’t be beautiful. Maybe it was even more beautiful when you saw something countless times and still appreciated it for all it was.

“Favorite food?” Vanessa asks.

Brooke describes the honey cakes and crusty rolls Nina makes, and Vanessa tells her about the roasted chicken with beans that she devours back home.

If this is what she has to do to make Brooke stop hating her, this is what she’ll do.

Only after exchanging favorite seasons (spring for Brooke and summer for Vanessa) does she think that maybe the questions are making her stop hating Brooke.

—

Vanessa didn’t think it was possible, but somehow the nightly dinners with both their families are more painful than days with Brooke. Tonight, Thomas has been talking about the wedding so long it might be here before he finishes, and the bread with roasted garlic that Nina made is the only thing keeping Vanessa from sprinting out of the dining room. She reaches for her fourth slice as Thomas lists names off the mile-long guest list, watching Brooke fiddle with her knife.

A clang sounds underneath her. Brooke has gone completely rigid and stares intensely at her empty hand, lips parted and brow furrowed, as if she’s trying to understand how she could have dropped it.

Vanessa’s body reacts without thought, sliding her own knife over to Brooke as heads turn their way.

“My apologies,” Vanessa offers. “The knife slipped right through my hand.”

From how tense Brooke is, Vanessa expects shouting, but there’s no reprimand from anyone. She doesn’t know if Brooke would have gotten in trouble for that, but she thinks of how stiff Brooke got when her father scolded her the day of the eggshells, how scared she was after the knife hit the floor, and Vanessa figures it’s better to let everyone think she’s clumsy if it keeps that fear from Brooke’s eyes.

One of the kitchen staff brings her a new knife, and the dinner continues like nothing happened.

Brooke’s fingers brush against hers, light as a bird’s feather.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and Vanessa knows she did the right thing.

It’s not until she’s in bed that she thinks of how last week she would have paid a bag of gold to see the Ice Princess slip up like that, to see a crack in her perfect exterior. But now that it’s happened, she wants to patch that crack up and keep her whole.

—

“Are there any shops that sell candy here?” Vanessa asks. They’re in a different village today, a little farther from the castle. This one is even more gloomy than the one they normally go to. The snow is a dirty gray and many shops are closed, empty behind broken glass. It’s been a week and though she no longer hates Brooke, they’re far from friends. Brooke is still too guarded, too composed for Vanessa to really know her. When Vanessa asks questions she always expects Brooke to say more, but she doesn’t; she just gives simple, exact answers. Vanessa considers if she just doesn’t want to talk or if she’s hiding something.

“There’s one on the next street. It has chocolate truffles,” Brooke says, and Vanessa needs no more.

She turns the corner to see the sign reading Scarlet’s Sweets hanging off its hinges, rocking in the wind. Thick dust and grime coats the windows. Looks like she isn’t getting chocolate today.

“I think it’s been closed for a while.”

“I didn’t know,” Brooke replies. “I don’t know much about the stores or people here, really.”

Vanessa knew all about the people in her village. She knew Honey, who appropriately owned the candy shop where Vanessa bought lemon drops and chocolates by the pound. She stopped in Ariel’s tailor shop to talk to her, bearing raspberry chocolates for Ariel’s little sister. She knew Ra’jah at the apothecary and Mercedes at the butcher shop, has listened to all their stories and helped her parents enact laws that protected merchants.

“You don’t? Thought you knew everything,” she teases, wondering what has changed over the past few days for her to venture teasing Brooke. Or what has changed that leads to Brooke not yelling at her, but flashing a half-grin–Vanessa doesn’t think she has any others–before resuming her frown.

“I don’t really go out much,” Brooke explains. “My parents like me to stay inside and do my lessons and go to meetings because that’s more important.”

She couldn’t imagine being stuck inside all day like Brooke. She was like a caged animal when she was inside too long, eyes flitting to the sky and dense green trees when she was in a meeting. Running along the village cobblestones or through the cornfields where the stalk towered over her was the best part of her day. Her parents had always let her, setting aside time each day for her to go outside, knowing how important freedom is to her.

“Oh.” she says, things starting to make a little more sense. Brooke’s parents keeping her inside all day, forcing her to study, is another piece that helps add up to the puzzle that is Brooke. It explains why she knows so much about history and commerce but so little about the world or even herself, why she seems uncertain of the shops they go in.

“There’s chocolate truffles in the candy shop closer to the castle,” Brooke offers.

“Let’s go then.”

—

The howling is back, jolting her out of a somewhat decent sleep. Now that she’s awake, the cold returns and digs into her bones like tiny knives, back aching as she shivers.

Maybe there’s more blankets somewhere. She grabs her robe and opens the door, only to narrowly avoid bumping into Brooke. Vanessa notes the deep bags under her eyes.

“What are you doing stalking around in the middle of the night?” Vanessa asks, holding her robe closed.

The light pink tinge to Brooke’s cheeks glows rosily in the light of the wall torches.

“I-I couldn’t sleep. Thought a walk might help. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

Judging from those bags, Vanessa suspects this sleeplessness is nothing new. But Brooke looking so vulnerable, so small and lost without her glittery jewelry or dresses is new, and she softens, uncrossing her arms and waving Brooke off. “I was up anyway. Some animals outside woke me.”

“Right,” Brooke nods. “I’ll just be moving along then.” She turns smoothly and shuffles back down to the other end of the hall.

Sleep well, Vanessa thinks but doesn’t say, surging with a sudden warmth that makes her forget the blankets.

—

Vanessa’s grown bored with the village today, drumming her fingers on the tabletop in the square, and she jumps when Brooke asks if he wants to return early and have tea with Nina.

Snow is fluttering to the ground on their way back to the castle, sticking to her cheeks and landing bright on the shoulders of her black cloak.

“It’s so pretty when it falls.” Brooke is so quiet Vanessa isn’t sure whether she’s meant to hear.

“It is pretty,” Vanessa admits. “We don’t get it at all down south. It’s socold though. Especially at night. I’ve been sleeping with three blankets and I still can’t get warm,” she laments, but she lacks any real bitterness. It’s hard to be bitter about it when it’s falling so thick, fragments of a cloud like Brooke said, pearly-white and delicate as it lands on her forehead. Brooke nods, and Vanessa again gets the idea she’s holding something back, that she wants to say something but isn’t sure she should.

Regardless, Brooke is a little looser as the snow settles in her wavy hair, head lowered until they stride across the castle’s stone floor, when it snaps back up like she’s on a string.

Thomas is there to greet them. Brooke pales, her mouth twisting as she appears to bite the inside of her cheek, before becoming the perfect princess again, face a blank canvas. Thomas’s eyes are rimmed with hatred when he first sees her. He forcefully brushes the snow from her hair, muttering under his breath about presentation and that she needs to change for dinner. Brooke nods and Vanessa knows tea with Nina is out of the picture.

She considers the defeat in Brooke when she saw Thomas, and Vanessa’s thoughts have to regroup. Had she gotten it wrong? What if it wasn’t Thomas that was stuck with Brooke, but the other way around? It wouldn’t be the first time she had completely misread a relationship, seen things that weren’t there, missed the problems staring her in the face, changed the narrative to fit her emotions.

At least this time it wouldn’t cost her anything.

–

That night, there’s a stack of thick, fluffy blankets on her bed. She plucks the note off the top.

Stay warm.

The handwriting is so elegant and precise there’s only one person it could be from, and Vanessa finds her mind tracing the curves and swells of the letters all night.

—

“You’ve been watching every other day, correct?” the correspondent asks the man.

“Yes. I think I’ll increase to every day. I need more time sizing that one up, picturing that arrow going in,” the man says.

“If you think more surveillance will help, do it. Just make sure you aren’t seen. I’ll increase castle surveillance as well. Neither of them expect anything, I’m certain of it. And don’t forget to keep working on your aim.”

[askrazz]

Berry Pie For Any Season

(this is a spoiler-free pie recipe, so no matter what season you are on, you can make pie and feel a little better, I promise)

Adora?

No, not Adora, that’s fine. We can still make pie.

First, INGREDIENTS!

- Pie Crust 

If you want to make your own, that’s fine, but you can also buy it from the store, which can ease much of the pie-making stress.

Either way, you need enough to cover both the top and bottom of whatever pan you are using. Madame Razz uses a deep dish pie-pan that is 9 inches in diameter.

- Berries!

You can use any berries you want, and it doesn’t matter if they are freshly-picked, store-bought, or even frozen. In fact, Razz thinks the best berries come frozen from Princess Frosta.

The bigger your pan, the more berries you will need, but it’s okay if you end up with too many (just eat the extras). Madame Razz needs about 7 cups of berries to fill her pan.

- Granulated Sugar

While sugar can be hard to come by in the whispering woods, Razz is resourceful and can usually find enough. She needs 1 cup of granulated sugar for the filling, plus a little extra to sprinkle on top.

- Lemon Juice

Be careful not to get any in your eyes. Madame Razz puts her goggles when she handles acid, but that shouldn’t be necessary. 1 Tablespoon should be enough juice for Razz’s pie.

- Cornstarch

Have you seen any corn in Etheria? I haven’t. But Madame Razz doesn’t care where it came from as long as she has 4 tablespoons to thicken her filling.

- Butter

Even old ladies deep in the woods know the importance of a lot of love and at least 2 tablespoons of butter.

- 1 Large Egg White (beaten with a fork)

You can separate the yolk from the white by cracking the egg into your hand and slowing shifting the yolk until the white falls through the cracks into a bowl. The yolk can then be used for candy or dog treats or thrown away. No harm done, you only need the white.

Next, MAKE THE PIE!

STEP 1: The Filling:

- Add the berries, lemon juice, and sugar to a large saucepan over medium heat

- Simmer for 5-10 minutes, stirring occasionally to keep the mixture from burning

-  When the mixture is berries are mushy and there is lots of juice, sneak a taste (careful! it may be hot), then add sugar if you decide you want a sweeter pie. There’s no shame in that.

- Spoon about a cup of the juice from the berries into a bowl and add the cornstarch. Stir until it is completely dissolved with no lumps. 

- Bring your berries back to a simmer, then slowly add the starchy juice back to your filling mixture over a low/medium heat and stir until completely combined. (Try not to mash your berries, as they add texture and excitement to the final product.)

- Take your filling off the heat, stir in your butter, and let your berries cool.

STEP 2: Assemble the Pie:

- Once everything has cooled down, place your bottom crust into the pan so that it comes all the way up the sides to the top of the pan, then pour your filling into the crust.

- Next, you can top the pie however you like, as long as there are holes for steam to escape from the filling. You can use cookie cutters to make shapes, cut the top crust into strips and create a traditional lattice top, or simply place the whole pie crust over the top and cut slits for steam to vent. 

- Pinch the bottom and top crusts together where they meet and use a large fork or spoon to create ridges around the edge of the pie.

- Finally, Brush a thin layer of egg-white everywhere the crust is exposed. Now is the time to sprinkle on a little extra sugar, if you would like.

STEP 3: Bake!!

- Bake at 400 degrees Fahrenheit (205 in Celsius) for 40-45 minutes. If the crust begins to look too brown, cover the edges of the pie with tin foil to protect them. 

- Once baked, remove to a cooling rack and do not bother it for several hours.

- After a few hours to itself, your pie is ready to eat! 

Great job, Dearie! 

Remember, no matter how it turns out, Razz believes in you.

This recipe can also be found here and a video with ideas for decorating the top of your pies is here.