#sell all the things that no longer serve me this summer or give them away

[lwieserce]

Feeling deeply sad about uhmmm uhm. Not havijg an easy time connecting with people and not being resourceful. How are losers like me supposed to make it in life.

[blouisparadise]

Here are some of the amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of September. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Hard Candy Dripping On Me (Til My Feet Are Wet) | Explicit | 1997 words

Louis gets fucked on a plane. That’s it.

2) Fucking Nightmares | Mature | 2151 words

Louis has a nightmare. Harry comforts him.

3) You Could Take A Lick (But It's Too Cold To Bite) | Explicit | 2469 words

“You look kinda thirsty.” Louis croons softly.

Harry leans back in his chair and tilts his head to the side. His eyes are covered by the pair of expensive shades, but Louis feels his eyes drifting down his backside as he lays on his stomach.

“Why don’t you bring me a bit of that ice cream, darling?”

Louis and Harry have fun in a summer day.

4) Interview With The Vampire  | Explicit | 4135 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Robert Pattinson.

Working at an alpha magazine wasn't always easy for an omega like Louis, but he's just landed his biggest interview yet with an A list actor who has asked for Louis especially. Unfortunately, the interview is with Rob Pattinson, the biggest pain in the arse alpha on the planet.

Inspired by Rob’s interview in GQ Magazine and not actually about vampires

5) Conozco La Vida | Teen & Up | 4761 words

Note: This fic contains no explicit smut, but since it’s omega Louis, we’ve included it. 

"I have a son," he declared, there was a very thinly veiled layer of hesitation.

Harry was unaware in the direction which this conversation was heading but chose to stare at the man instead.

"He is an Omega," he dropped the pivotal piece of information.

Harry's attention was hooked now.

"He has been raised in an Omega convent all his life, he hasn't been in the presence of any Alpha who isn't his immediate family."

"I am still waiting for you to make a point."

"You could take him as an Omega."

Harry did not react, his face remaining perfectly free of betrayal of any sort of emotion and leaned back upon his chair, his leg crossed upon his knee. "You are selling your son to me?"

6) It’s Hard For Me To Go Home | Not Rated | 4890 words

Don’t call me baby again.

7) So Baby, Let's Keep It Secret | Explicit | 4638 words

“I’ll leave with you,” Harry said after a beat, sounding sure of himself.

“What!? No!, you can’t leave with me, Harry, you have a life here. You have a job and friends an-”

Harry kissed him in the middle of his rambling. “Which means nothing if I don’t have you.”

Into You Music Video AU.

8) ZOMOS | Mature | 5659 words

Is it easy to forget everything and start afresh? Is it easy being served with hateful glances and insults when all you wish for is to be loved? Is it easy to make it seem like everything is alright when in reality your world is crumbling into pieces with every breath you take?

Is it easy to be the omega who is unwanted by their alpha?

9) Your Biggest Fan | Explicit | 9075 words 

Just like everyone else, Louis has a few habits that he can’t seem to break. Guilty pleasures, rather. His nails are perpetually short because he can’t quit biting them, the bottom of his shoes scuffed from tapping his foot constantly. Sometimes his leg gets a cramp from bouncing it so often underneath his desk. That isn't too bad, he reckons, just some average teenage coping mechanisms.And also, occasionally, minor instances of theft.

10) Making A Splash | Explicit | 9557 words

“You want this?” Harry muses, fisting his cock as he drags his hand lazily up his thick length. Louis eyes the motion and nods his head absentmindedly. “You want to show everyone at this beach how much of a slut you are for Daddy’s cock?”

“M‘your slut,” Louis immediately replies, inching closer, inching closer with his eyes glued on Harry’s glistening cock, precome shining under the sun as it dribbles out his slit.

Harry grins widely and stops the movement of his hand to grip himself at the base again, pushing Louis’ head down. “Show everyone how much of a slut you are.”

11) Hung Up High in the Gallery | Mature | 14006 words

When Harry’s best friend, Louis, comes to support him at his art show, he decides they need to do some celebrating afterwards. How fast do the lines between friends and lovers get blurred ... or better, get painted?

12) My Home Is Your Body | Explicit | 15341 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

He had seen who had made his senses go haywire. His ex was in the front row, five feet in front of him. He felt his eyes on him even as he mechanically made his way to the end of the runway, hoping to God he didn’t look like a maniac. Everything was a blur. He somehow managed to walk the rest of the way without falling or emoting anything. Why was he HERE? Of all places.

...where Louis is a successful omega model and the last thing he expects is his ex to become the co-partner of the new company he works for....

13) There's Nothing Like It (Nothing At All) | Explicit | 15471 words 

Note: This is a sequel to this fic.

His hands are outstretched on the mattress like he’s reaching out for something, reaching out for Harry. It makes his heart swell, almost bursting with affection and love. He only waits a bit longer before reaching over to turn off the light and pulling Louis to his chest, smiling when the omega immediately sighs in contentment, nuzzling into his skin happily.Tomorrow, he tells himself. Tomorrow, they’ll talk about it.-Or, Harry isn’t ready for things to change, and the end is just the beginning.

14) Seven Simple Words | Explicit | 15535 words

It’s not like he and Louis were a couple. No, they might have been a lot of things—best mates and colleagues with a seemingly convenient friends-with-benefits arrangement—but never a couple. It wasn’t Louis’ fault he didn’t feel the same way and couldn’t reciprocate Harry’s feelings in the way he’d wanted, the way he’d needed. Harry had allowed himself to get in too deep, his entire being aching to be loved back by the object of his affections. But in love, as in life, you don’t always get what you want.

15) Works Like A Charm | Explicit | 18061 words

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone.

One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts.

Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts.

Three: They do not get along.

So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

16) The Way This River Runs | Explicit | 27417 words 

It’d be so easy to just open his mouth and plead with Harry, to scream I’m sorry until his voice disappears, but he can’t. Be it his pride or his ego or his insecurities, he just can’t do it. The worst part is that he knows Harry would probably forgive him.

But Louis doesn’t want phony forgiveness. He doesn’t want Harry’s soothing words and pity embrace, thinks he might just break altogether if he was offered them. He feels like he’s made of glass recently and it’s to the point where he kind of wants to tip over the edge, just to see if he’d shatter. Just to see who’d be there to pick up the pieces if he did.

17) Give Me Love | Explicit | 41041 words

Louis doesn't feel like a good omega, Harry doesn't remember how to be an alpha, and they figure it out together.

18) Falling Out Of Fashion | Explicit | 42123 words

Harry Styles has been the established face of the Grimshaw House of Design for two years. It’s a prestigious and coveted modeling contract Harry took away from once-famed supermodel Zayn Malik. With the model transition Grimshaw’s designs went from a more urban, Zayn-forward aesthetic, to a Harry-favoring flowery, flowing femininity in the Grimshaw designs for men.

So when Harry sees a dress Grimshaw made for a famous Marvel actress, “only a tease”, Nick says, of the evolving look, Harry knows Grimshaw is shifting his aesthetic.

Harry wonders if he can pull off the look.

19) Three Days In February | Explicit | 189346 words

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

Ridiculous amounts of banter and angst, a lot of Harry and Louis alone together, a healthy dose of OT5 friendship, and one very magical weekend.

20) Boss Bitch | Explicit | 386901 words

Harry had always wanted to work for this successful mafia; the mafia that everyone knew, everyone feared. Led by none other than the pahntom

"L'eue Courante", whom everyone knew existed, but had no other clues who this person could be. The only thing known was a high heel the phantom once left.

So this person had to be woman, Harry assumend. And man, was he wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[bellemorte180]

Darkness Becomes Thee (working title)

Okay, so I am working on this one shot. I just finished the opening scene and am going to share it here. This is the only glimpse you will get of it until it is finished. I am very excited about it and am proud of how this opening scene came out. Granted details may change from now until the finished produce but let me know your thoughts:

Hungary 1302

The rolling hills of Hungary burned brightly in the afternoon sun. In the distance, a stone castle appeared almost serene against the clear blue sky. Birds could be heard chirping in the distance, their songs holding a sense of melancholy that hung in the air. A cool breeze brushed the trees aside, sending a few floating to the ground, landing softly on the banks of the river that flowed uninterrupted. The river was wide and massive, a wooden bridge having been built a mile south in order to cross it.

The river served many purposes. People from the village used it as a means of catching fish for their evingin support or to sell in the small market that was located just in the middle of the town. Others gathered the water to drink from or to even bathe in. Children would skip rocks on the shallow parts near the bank. Some of the braver children would sink their toes into the sand and wade out into the water until their feet could no longer touch. For the river had heard at least a hundred years or so of laughter, children playing and the splash that came alone with such happiness, but it had also heard at least just as many screams. What the river had rarely heard was such silence that fell over its waves.

A small girl no older than eight sat on the bank of the river, gazing out into the crystal blue water. She was a pretty girl with long blonde hair and blue eyes that mirrored the color of the sky. She wore a long pink muslin gown that was made of fine fabric, for her family was clearly wealthy. She sat on the patch of grass just before the bank turned to sand. The branches of the giant oak tree beside her blocked her from the heat of the sun, allowing her to enjoy the cool summer breeze as her eyes never left the water.

Upon first seeing the scene, the man thought that the young girl was alone and enjoying the day. At first he wondered where her chaperones were and how could anyone leave her alone in such a manner. For awful things happened to pretty girls who found themselves alone. It wasn’t until the sound of splashing drew his attention from the small girl. In the river was another young girl but the man could not see much about her, whether she was pretty or well bred was a mystery. All he could see was that the girl was struggling to keep her head above water.

The second girl splashed her arms, causing a small ripple in the waves. Her arms would go up, flaying out as though she was signaling that she needed help. Her mouth would open, only to be filled with water and unable to scream. The man assumed that if he stumbled upon the scene moments earlier, he would have her yelling for help; begging to be saved from the current that was threatening to take her under. If someone did not act soon, this young girl would drown.

Instead of rushing into the water in order to pull the girl from her fate, he turned his gaze back to the first girl. This girl just sat upon the grass, her eyes never leaving the sight of the drowning girl. It was obvious that she saw the other girl but had nothing to provide any sort of aid. She did not appear to be running to the castle that was about a mile from the river or screaming for help, praying for someone to come and help this poor girl. She didn’t attempt to wade into the water in order to save this poor girl herself; most likely daming them both to a watery grave.

Instead this girl just sat upon the comfortable grass, watching.

The man was intrigued and stepped forward, slowly. His boots made a light sound in the grass, making his presence easily known. However the girl did not turn to look at him, her focus refusing to be broken from the scene. Once he reached her, the man lowered himself  to the ground next to her and gazed out at the girl who was still struggling to breath. After a second, the first girl turned her head, causing her blond hair to flow softly in the breeze. Her startling blue eyes looked at his irises that had flecks of gold lingering in them.

“She will die if you don’t help her.” The man replied, an accent that was unfamiliar in the village flowing from his cherry lips. Not an ounce of worry or concern flowed across her small petite face. The man gazed into those blue and found a void in them that he only saw when he looked into the mirror. For a second he thought it was his own damaged soul gazing back at him. The illusion was shattered the moment the girl laughed.

It was cheery and happy, a laughter that could only fit a beautiful child. It was a laugh that made it easy to adore this child, one that would have any adult wrapped around her finger. The man studied her and could see that she was well cared for, loved even. Yet, he could see something in her that he saw in very few, something he didn’t see in even his siblings.

A reflection.

“I know.” The girl chuckled, giving her shoulders a slight shrug. She turned back to look at the drowning girl whose struggle was becoming slower and slower. The man had experience with drowning and knew that this child was in pain; her body rebelling as it struggled to breathe. He knew that within the next few moments, her lungs would fill with water, her limbs would go stil land and her vacant body would float down the river banks, only to be discovered by someone whose remaining existence would be scared by that moment. “But I’m curious. I’ve never watched anyone die before.”

The man could almost feel a chill run over his skin. He was old and very little scared him but how this small beautiful child spoke about death was something that was rare and void of any hint of humanity. He could not help but have his interest peaked, curious as to who this girl was and what she would one day become. He was already preparing the ways he could study her from afar, getting to know exactly who this girl was.

“I have a feeling Sweetheart, that her death will not be the last one you bear witness to.” The man told her sweetly, imagine all the things he could show this young girl when she was just a bit older. She still held such little innocence that even a monster such as himself didn’t want to stamp that tiny bit out just yet. His eyes flickered to the girl in the river, noting that the sound of splashing had ceased and saw that the girl had stopped fighting. “Who was she?”

The blonde girl whipped her head to look at the river again, gazing at the now floating body in the river. Her head cocked to the side ever so slightly, engaged at what she was seeing. Slowly, she stood from her spot in the grass and walked towards the edge of the bank. The man could feel the bubbling excitement that she was feeling. There was a rush of adrenaline within the young girl and given the fact that she had not appeared to have a hint of remorse at her actions made him all the more pleased.

“Sweetheart?”

“Sorry. I got distracted.” The girl replied, but her tone told him that she was not paying much attention to him. Her blue eyes could not look away at the girl whose body was slowly floating down the river. The man decided to give this moment to her because he could sense that she was not about to answer him any time soon. So he waited until the body had floated so far down the river that neither of them could see her anymore. Only then did the girl turn back to him, making her way towards him, only stopping just before she reached him. “She was the daughter of my mother’s handmaiden. We played together often. She was going to be my personal handmaiden when I got older. I suppose we will have to find a replacement.”

“I suppose you will.” He searched her face for a hint of sadness at the death of her friend and yet he found none. If anything she seemed annoyed at the prospect of having to find a new friend to play with. Human life clearly meant little to her, only useful when it benefited her end game. “Tell me, whose idea was it to play in the river today?”

“Mine.” She gave him a look as though she was challenging him to say a word, a challenge for him to tell her she was wrong for what she had done. The man remained silent, providing the acceptance the girl needed. “She didn’t want to come, not at first. Not really. But I made her. I wanted to see what it was like to watch someone die. Have you ever watched someone die?”

“Many, many people.” The man replied and he leaned in close to her. “And can I tell you a secret?” The girl nodded eagerly, causing him to chuckle at the sparkle and curiosity in her eyes. “I killed my own mother. Tore her heart from her chest and watched as she bled out on the ground.” The man reached out and tucked a stray lock behind her ear, looking at how bright her smile had become. He could see she thrust to know more but knew that the one question that most would ask was not lingering in her mind. Why? The reason didn’t matter. Not to her. “Go on now. Go back to your castle. I’m sure that we will see each other one day again.”

The girl gave out another happy chuckle and skipped around him, heading in the direction of the castle. The man looked over his shoulder, watching as she weaved through the fields alone. He waited until she was out of sight before standing and walking alongside the river, knowing full well that one day he would come back to Hungary just to see what that young girl becomes.

[raikangaru]

Lucky - Zuko x Reader

Warnings: none

one shot

The Fire Nation ship docks at the port of Ember Island,”Wow!”the little black haired boy cheers, wobbling over to the railings of the boat. “Your highness the carriage is prepared to take you to your summer home,”a fire nation soldier informs us,”alright, thank you”,Zuko takes my hand,”Juro, come on. We’re heading to the house,”I call out to the little boy and gesturing with my hand. “mommy, I want boat longer,”the (eye colour) eyed boy pouts, jutting out his lower lip. “Don’t you want to go swimming,?”his eyes lit up and immediately dashing towards us the guards on alert Incase the little prince falls, Zuko picks him up and I smile at the sight.

The soldier escorts all of three of us to the carriage,”How are you feeling?,”Zuko asks as he helps me up the carriage,”if I’m being honest, I just want to lay in bed. The ships got me dizzy,” as I lean my head on the cushion, “Do you need anything?,”Zuko takes my hand and rubs smooth circles to help ease the dizziness. “No, it’s alright,”I give him a bright smile, the carriage begins moving and Juro can’t help but stick his head out the window, he’s really excited to be here, I turn to my husband, he’s watching our son, a satisfied smile sits on his lips. Zuko and our son chat away, talking about his old memories visiting Ember Island though Juro won’t be able to understand. Before we knew it the entrance way of the royal vacation house, much has changed, Zuko and I had decided to give it an update but still keep some old features to it, to create new memories and remember the old ones.

The little one is so excited, he turns to me and stretches his tiny arms out, I take it as signal to pick him up,”alright alright, we’re going out,”I giggle as he continues to fuss in my arms, “wanna go to daddy?,”he shakes his head. “Aww look daddy is sad,”Zuko fake pouts, pretending to be sad and it’s makes Juro laugh. He reaches out for Zuko and I give him over to Zuko, we all step out of the carriage. The strong smell of the beach hangs in the air, this vacation was going to be good for all of us, it would hopefully take some stress of Zuko. He’s been working extra hard to be able to have complete peace with the nation and other nations.

The maids greet us at the door, directing the guards with our luggage. “My lady lunch is served,”another maid had informed me,”thank you,”I smiled at her. I look out to the window and see Zuko and Juro playing around in the sand, the sight made my heart flutter and immediately my hand moved to my enlarged belly even more excited for the second little one to join us. “Can you perhaps call Zuko and Juro?”I ask ask the maid waiting on me, she bows and leave the house, my two boys enter the house and we all sit in the dining room with Juro sitting in his cute baby chair.

“Mommy, swim”

“Yes yes my love, after we eat,”I smile at my little boy.

After lunch had been cleared, we had rested and got changed for the beach, I had change little Juro into some red swim trunks to match his father. I had just gotten into two piece bikini but covered up in a robe, I look to large to strut around in a bikini. “You still look hot and beautiful my (your name),”Zuko pulls me to him with Juro between us, I shake my head before shooting them away, Juro and Zuko sits on the sand attempting to build the almighty Fire Nation Palace, I prop myself on one of the sun beds and just watch them enjoy their time together. I rub my belly as I feel the baby kick around my tummy,”Zuko, Juro the baby’s kicking,”I yell out to my boys, Zuko looks at me with bright eyes, he’s excited, he was never around whenever the baby kick. “Hi, my baby. You’ve finally come around,”he speaks to my stomach, Juro following suit and I giggle from the vibrations I feel.

“We’re gonna have a swim, Juro really wants. Come join us?”Zuko says, he returns the sand tools in a bucket,”go ahead, I’ll join in a bit, the baby and I just want to rest for awhile,” I laid back on the sun bed,”alright then,”he kissed my cheek before getting up and walked hand in hand with Juro towards the ocean waters. I enjoyed the view of them splashing around in the most shallow part of the shore, Zuko pretends to get hurt from the splashes of water and it entertains the two-year old, I see Zuko whisper to Juro and they both laugh and giggle together. “Mommy swim”,Juro splash the water around,”later baby,”I tell him. “No, swim”,he tries to utter more words, he gives me pouty face and my heart just couldn’t say no, he was too cute. “Alright love,”I sighed and joined them in the water, Zuko and I sat on the soft sand, I leaned on his shoulder while we watched our son play.

It had been a few hours of playing in the water and sand, I had decided it was time to head inside. Without a doubt Juro threw a tantrum, “hush now, baby” I cooed to the young black haired boy,”we’re gonna see the markets,”Juro doesn’t stop crying. “Just go ahead and shower, I’ll handle Juro,”I turn to Zuko, he looks at me skeptically but I reassure him it’s fine. As soon as Juro was in the bathtub he stopped crying, instead he starts splashing again,”you just want to keep swimming,”I giggle as I wash him with shampoo and soap, making sure all salt water was rinsed out of his skin. “There we go love, all done,”I take him out of the tub, thankfully no tantrum. We had given the maids and servants the day off so that we had the house to ourselves,I dressed him up in normal Fire Nation clothing, leaving out his hairpiece. Zuko was leaving on the door, dressed in casual robes, reminds me when we were here with team avatar. Don’t worry love, I’ll take care of him,” I left Zuko while I have a shower myself, the salty sea water stuck to my skin mixed with the sand when I sat and built more ‘sandcastles’ with them.

I felt refreshed after my shower, changed into casual robes and got ready to leave for the markets, Zuko thought it would be a good idea to bring Juro around the markets, to see the colourful lights of the square and just stuff people were selling, he told me when he was younger and visited this place often that’s what he did and he wanted Juro to experience the same things, I reminded him our son was only two-years old, he most likely won’t remember. “I think we’re ready to go,”I called out to Zuko, he carried Juro in his arms,”alright love, let’s go.”

We had the carriage bring us to the markets, immediately Juro was interested, the markets was colourful and had lots of different sounds, Zuko shifts him on his shoulders and grabs my hand, we walk through the markets and picking up random trinkets and what not from different sellers. Juro points at a stall selling lanterns that had different shapes, he points at the dragon one,”fire nation through and through,”I say as we purchase the lantern for him, “you’re so cute baby,”I pinch his chubby cheeks. “This is very nice Zuko, I think Juro’s really enjoying it”,I look up to the giggly boy on the Firelords shoulders. We had dinner in one of the famous dumpling restaurants, definitely the best that I have tasted, I was like an idiot I couldn’t stop moaning about the food. It was clear in Juro’s face that he’s very tired from today’s events, we had the carriage take us home, to our surprise Juro had fallen asleep on Zuko’s arms.

Once in the comforts of our home, I tell Zuko to bring him into the room and I’ll help him change Juro out of his clothes. Once our baby was settled in his bed, I lean to his forehead. Zuko and I walked into our shared room, I changed out of my robes and into silky robes for sleeping. “Today’s been good,”Zuko happily sighs, sliding into our bed and I follow suit. I lay on my side and he cuddles me from behind, draping his arm over me,”I love you my sweet (your name), thank you for giving me children.”

“I fall in love you with you more everyday. You are such a great father to our son,”I cozy up closer to Zuko, he seems to be deep in thought but he breaks out of it, he rubs my pregnant belly. “I don’t want to become like my father, I don’t want them to grow up fearing me.”his eyes darken and his brows are furrowed, I reach up and smoothen out his forehead. “Zuko you’re already a greater man than your father ever was, you have grown from your mistakes and learned from them. You have changed your ways and fought for what is right.”I look at him straight in the eyes and cup his cheeks.

“Don’t compare yourself, to have role model like you, our children are so lucky to have you as their father”

//

m a s t e r l i st

hey! i feel that this was a short one, I tried to do one where reader-chan just watches Zuko and their child, hope you enjoyed it! please leave a like, shoot me an ask or dm if you have any requests or suggestions. have a great day and hopefully this pandemic will pass!

all the love xx

[ratingtheframe]

Everything That Happened at the 2021 Golden Globes

The first two months of the year are finally over and as the days grow longer, we can start to see the early signs of spring. With spring comes summer and with summer comes an influx of movie releases, with the majority of films that were put on hold last year scheduled to be released in the following months in cinemas across the world. You know, cinemas, as in those big rooms where you pay to sit and watch movies from start to finish without pausing it? Gosh have I missed the pre movie adverts, comfy chairs and super wide screens. It's not the same at home and despite Netflix, HBO and Amazon Prime thriving, we shouldn’t set anything in stone when it comes to the quality and accessibility of film. 

Cinema is tradition whereas On Demand is convenience and usually choosing convenience over tradition does impact the quality of work being distributed. There are a bunch of films on streaming platforms that would be too inappropriate for cinemas, seeing as they lack a cinematic or dramatic feel to them to be good enough for a big screen. This allows mediocre to downright awful films to find an audience via streaming platforms. All well and good, seeing as these platforms are great exposure for upcoming filmmakers but at the same time it's a capitalistic system that puts views above the quality of content. It doesn’t matter if what you’re watching on Netflix is bad, they just want you to keep coming back for more. This can be said for mainstream cinema too, but to a lesser degree seeing as cinemas typically release around 68 movies per month, whereas Netflix has the ability to add up to 200 releases on their platform per month. It makes perfect sense that Netflix has the viewers that it does, as we can see that it releases almost twice the content of cinemas per month. For the avid cinephiles, this leaves us wanting a lot more as we’re only able to enjoy maybe one or two films a month from online streaming services, because the quality is so inconsistent. I hope that cinemas open soon so that I can relax knowing that the film I’ve paid money for will be of a good quality. 

Speaking of good quality films, Chloé Zhao, director of Nomadland (2021) became the second woman in the 78 year history of the Golden Globes to win an award for directing. This is an exceptional triumph and from the moment I saw Nomadland, I knew that it would have an incredible impact on awards circuits this year. Nomadland also won Best Picture, which proves something that up and coming filmmakers may need to start getting their heads around. People may not necessarily be gravitating towards cinema for a chance of escapism any more. I thoroughly believe those days are behind us, buried in the 70s and 80s with films that defied the laws of filmmaking and went to extreme lengths to serve us an entire universe that we couldn’t even comprehend. However, as the world grows more fragile and people start to realise the fragility of life, we want to connect with one another authentically and realistically. 

The way that film can do this is by showing our real selves on screen, showing our pain, redemption, emotions, fear, honesty, laughter, race, gender, humanity, darkest secrets and biggest dreams using the backdrop of cinema to sell us a story. People want films that are honest and are a reflection of humanity as well as the current society we’re living in. Not necessarily “a slice of life”, but a slice of humanity that we never see because it’s never impacted us directly, yet we still want to be made to feel like it has through film. That’s the key to success in any film, making the viewer feel like they’ve experienced something on screen even when they haven’t. If the film is too far away from our own psyche or humanity, we switch off, as we can no longer relate or even want to relate to something so obtuse and boring. Nomadland was the complete opposite to this theory, bringing us humanity in all its glory; its sadness and pure emotion that affects millions everyday, especially in such a time when loneliness is rife.

This is why Mank (2020) lost out. In a time where the world is in a sensitive disposition, Mank came as ineffective to the world of film. Though triumphant in it’s making, the film proves the fundamental foundation of film that Mank failed to do; have a good story. Mank just wasn’t the story people wanted or needed to see and one can appreciate a filmmaker’s efforts to make films but at the end of the day, the story is truly the only thing that’ll carry a film and if it's uninteresting and impersonal, people switch off. And they clearly did, seeing as Mank lost out to all SIX of its nominations. Less is more, I suppose, seeing as Nomadland won two out of four awards, including the top prize of Best Picture. David Fincher even took a shot every time he lost a category. Better luck next time.Other snubs included Emerald Fennell’s Promising Young Woman (2021) starring Carey Mulligan ,which was released on VOD last month. The film was nominated for four prizes and I suppose the lack of release in cinemas worldwide or at a Film Festival meant the lack of hype for the film. Regina King’s One Night In Miami...failed to pick up a prize, having been nominated for three awards. King shouldn’t be too disheartened, seeing as her debut definitely got her the recognition she deserved.

Aaron Sorkin most notably won Best Screenplay for his amazing picture, The Trial of the Chicago 7. I had the fortune of catching this in cinemas and the musicality of this screenplay was unreal. An incredibly authentic, riveting and honest piece of work, I believe we can safely say that Aaron Sorkin is the greatest writer for cinema and TV in our day and age. Sorkin is used to being showered with accolades, from Primetime Emmys with The West Wing, to an Oscar with David Fincher’s The Social Network.

The late Chadwick Boseman was honoured in full glory, having won the award for Best Supporting Actor in a Motion Picture for his role as Levee in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. An exceptional performance that reeks with Oscar success, Boseman is the first actor to be awarded the prize posthumously.

What’s also to be noted is the amount of British nominees and winners at this year’s ceremony. It seems like the American Film & TV market is wide open for Brits, seeing as Emma Corrin, Josh O'Connor, Daniel Kaluuya, Sacha Baron Cohen, Rosamund Pike, John Boyega and Anya Taylor Joy all won awards for acting. Helen Bonham Carter, Olivia Coleman, Vanessa Kirby, Riz Ahmed, Gary Oldman, Antony Hopkins, Dev Patel, James Corden, Hugh Grant, Jodie Comer, Lilly Collins and Nicolas Hoult all received nominations and were all born in the UK. The Crown in particular just seems to be getting more successful with each year and despite its controversy, the show has won Netflix 7 Golden Globes and 10 Emmys. What does this tell us about our actors and their ability in comparison to our friends overseas? Is it just a stroke of luck that the majority of actors who won this year are British or are we doing something different? Only time will tell as more British actors begin to be recognised for their flare over in the US.

If anything, we’ve learnt that The Golden Globes is for everyone. Anyone can win an award despite their background as long as those who control the awards ceremony are willing to give a variety of films a chance, not just ones directed by David Fincher. Nomadland is certainly an underdog for cinema, one that may not have done as well had other films been released last year. COVID-19 created space for this film to be seen and has truly been taken in as a work of art, proving that films of the same kind deserve to be seen in the up and coming future. British actors can and have made it big in Hollywood and it seems like American audiences welcome them with open arms. Sacha Baron’s Cohen’s humour in Borat Subsequent MovieFilm wasn’t unrequited, seeing as it won Best Musical / Comedy at this year’s award season, meaning every moment of that film (incriminating or not) WAS WORTH IT. Even though Regina King and Emerald Fennell lost out on their respective films, their work has been courageous and profound in helping to give space to women in the film industry. The fact that they were even nominated along with Chloé Zhao, was an achievement in itself and has women like me looking up to the success of these three women and realising that I could have the same shot. Mank came at the wrong time, and though good visually, it lacked a beating heart that the Golden Globes could identify with enough to give it at least one award. Soul was named Best Animation Feature Film of the year, also winning an award for music with a beautiful score by Atticus Ross, Trent Reznor and Jon Batiste. The Queen’s Gambit also reigned supreme, as Anya Taylor Joy won Best Actress for a performance in a mini series / tv film and the overall series won Best Television Mini Series / Television Film.

This has to be the best Golden Globes I’ve ever witnessed. Not only did it champion diversity in the film categories, British Actors and female directors, it actually gave consumers as well as judges, something that actually wanted, which was to see underdogs thrive in an environment that’s usually laid bare for the same characters. Let’s keep this up for the next ceremony !

ig @ratingtheframe

[space-------kid]

Ack! It’s perfectly okay! But in short, Akaza, not hakuji, is human, still apart of the 12 moons, meets a flower shop owner, who after becoming friends with, ends up showing him a flower that they found, the blue spider lily, the flower of which he needs, and he contemplates over turning it in and potentially risking the owner’s safety (cause like, hey, where’d ya get the flower) and keeping here and potentially getting in trouble for not finding it. Maybe smol angst with a fluff ending?

Thank you for your patience, understanding, and clarification - I appreciate them very much! 😭💕💕💕

I hope you like what I come up with, anon! ��💕

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭𝓫𝔂𝓮, 𝓶𝓻. 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓮𝓯 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃!𝒜𝓀𝒶𝓏𝒶 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

              The strum of Nakime’s biwa is the last thing he hears before he is transported away from the Dimensional Infinity Fortress. Akaza gets up from his kneeling position, sleep-deprived and mentally exhausted from his meeting with the demon he calls his master. Behind him, the sun is starting to rise from the horizon, signifying a new day he has to face with only one thing in mind.

                Despite his abhorrence for humans, Kibutsuji Muzan finds it in himself to tolerate the presence of the only man occupying a spot among his Twelve Demon Moons, more so giving said man the title of Upper Moon Three  – the rank branded on his back. Human though he may be, Akaza knows that Muzan favours him along with the top two Upper Moons because of his many uses. For one, no one will suspect that a human like him is willingly working for a demon. And two, he proves to be more useful in the progenitor of the demon’s search for the mysterious blue spider lily - having the capacity to look for the flowers in broad daylight rather than being limited by night. Perhaps these are simply the reason why Akaza hasn’t been turned into a demon yet, and he’d rather not if he’s being completely honest.

                The danger of being eaten or mercilessly killed by his fellow Moons remain, however, and it pervades within the ranks of the Lower Moons. While the Upper Moons may have been lenient because they also recognize the uses of a human belonging in the ranks and being of service to Muzan, the Lower ones hate Akaza with a burning passion. How could one measly human gain Muzan’s favour, something they can’t even obtain (maybe with the exception of Lower Five, Rui, who sees Muzan as a father-figure and Akaza some sort of an older brother)?

                But Akaza is used to the threats by now. He’s learned to live with every single one of them -- that, after all, is what it means to be a human who chooses to be subservient to the creator of demonkind.

                Prepared for another long day ahead of him, Akaza squares his shoulders and sets off on his journey.

--

                Akaza’s trail leads him to a post town called Magome located in the Kiso Valley.

                While the town doesn’t look promising enough with regards to his journey, the third Upper Moon still sees the charm of the place itself. He initially plans to stay only for a day and move along with his search, but he hears talk of Demon Slayers converging on the next town he is headed so he decides to lay low for a few days. While he is confident that he can take them on with the use of his Destructive Kill Style - a self-taught Breath Style he has formulated to oppose the Demon Slayers’ - he finds it prudent that secrecy will better help him with his quest for the time being.

                Akaza, however, doesn’t count on finding all three inns in the town fully booked. His displeasure must have shown on his face because most of the townspeople have been veering off his general direction. He would have ignored them, but a soft tap on his shoulder sends him turning around to look at whoever it is with a glare.

                Looking back, Akaza doesn’t expect that his short stay in Magome will earn him a friend in the form of [Name], an unassuming yet kind owner of the sole flower shop in the town. She has heard of his plight and - as her usual routine - offers to let him stay in her home above the shop. Akaza wants to turn down her request for he barely knows her save for some of the townsfolk encouraging him to do so. After all, they say, [Name] is known to take in those who have been unfortunate enough to be unable to find a place to stay in during their time in the town.

               He continues to harbour doubt. What if he’s a thief who wants to take advantage of her offer? What if he’s a murderer? His questions and doubt are short-lived, for [Name] is completely safe under the protection of three older brothers who live close. While not being a part of the Imperial Army nor his enemy the Demon Slayers, [Name]’s siblings are capable fighters who dabble in kyūdō, jiu-jitsu, and kenjutsu each. Despite being capable of defeating all three of them easily should a combat ensue, Akaza is more than satisfied with the knowledge that the unexpected and only friend he’s ever made is safe from the scum of humanity.

                And despite his better judgement, Akaza has actually enjoyed his short stay with [Name]. Aside from her kindness, he sees that she’s also understanding and considerate with other people’s plight. She seems to also possess the patience of a saint, and only gets angry for the right reasons. She knows not to pry with other people’s business if they choose to be secretive, but she’s also perceptive enough to know if someone is bearing any malicious intent or ill will towards her. But what Akaza finds endearing about her the most is that she is a genuine person - every action and decision she makes doesn’t contain even an ounce of a hidden agenda of some sort.

                After his stay, Akaza surprises himself with visiting [Name] at Magome whenever he can. He thinks at first that she will make a great asset with his search for the blue spider lily, what with her owning a flower shop and all. Slowly, however, he finds that the reason for his visit becomes less and less about the rare and mysterious his master has long coveted.

               The Upper Moon incognito gratefully accepts the tea [Name] serves him, fighting the urge to blush under her kind gaze. A bright smile is painted on her face as she begins chattering about the goings on in the town during his absence. Akaza shares the mundane events he encounters as well, mindful not to expose who he is, what his reasons for traveling are, and who he is allied with.

               “…then my brothers chased him away and threatened to throw him to prison if he ever sets foot in town because I found out that he’s a liar and has already promised the tailor Hanako-san marriage!” [Name] recounts of a time, during Akaza’s absence, where a shameless man attempted to court her despite being already engaged to one of her friends. “You would’ve disliked him instantly if you’ve been here and saw what he did, Akaza-san. That man has no respect for women!”

               Akaza quietly agrees, and it doesn’t escape his notice why the offender would offer [Name] courtship. She’s single and at the perfect age to get married. Aside from her behaviour, she is also an undeniably beautiful woman, with lively [colour] eyes, [length and colour] hair that flows like silk, and [tone] unblemished skin. She is very attractive, both in appearance and personality, and Akaza would be a hypocrite if he denies ever wondering what she’d look like in a shiromuku.

               Heat spreads on Akaza’s cheeks at the thought. Maybe… maybe when he’s done with his quest and Lord Muzan has finally achieved his goal, maybe Akaza can…

               He shakes his head at the thought. As much as he wants to court [Name] and later ask for her hand in marriage, he has a feeling that his master may not approve.

               But maybe Lord Muzan can make an exception? Maybe if Akaza can finally present the demon lord his long coveted blue spider lilies, maybe he’ll grant the third Upper Moon any desire he’d request?

               Akaza falters, almost dropping the cup and hearing [Name]’s worried gasp. He’s her friend, why is he thinking and desiring of marriage, of all things? And since when has he started to fantasize about making [Name] his woman? Does a male friend think of his female friend the way he does these past few months of knowing her?

               “I’m sorry,” he tells her with a reassuring smile. The lie – he’s the only one who manages to deceive her, why? – comes out smoothly from his lips as he greedily drinks in her reciprocating smile, “I’m just tired from the long journey. I apologize for making you worry.”

               Red paints [Name]’s cheeks as she holds the tray close to her chest. Akaza likes to think that it is because she is affected by his smile, just as hers affects him in more ways than one.

               “O-Oh!” She blinks in surprise and ducks her head in embarrassment at his claim. “I’m sorry for dragging you off to chat as soon as you came, Akaza-san! Please stay here and let me tidy up your room!”

               She is up to her feet before he can stop her, and he tilts his head in curiosity when she rushes back to him with an excited smile on her pretty face.

               “Before I forget–! You should come to the forest with me, tomorrow, Akaza-san!” [Name] tells him, looking positively thrilled that it bleeds into Akaza’s chest. “I found something that I want to show only you!”

               Something that has excited her– something that she wants to show only to him?

               Akaza smiles softly at her retreating form, anticipation building in his entire being. He can’t wait for tomorrow to come.

--

               The trek to the forest has showered Akaza with opportunity to spend more time alone with [Name]. While her older brothers have been kind and open to him, they still exude that protective air around her whenever Akaza’s gaze stays at her longer than they’re comfortable with.

               Kiso Valley is beautiful during the summer season. He admires the way [Name]’s face lights up as she points at the flowers they pass by on the trail, explaining to Akaza that the area is where she mostly gets and cultivates the flowers she sells in her shop. He’s seen and heard her talk about her beloved shop and flowers for what seems to be a hundred times already but Akaza doesn’t tire about the topic – not one bit, not when [Name] glows with passion for the things she loves.

               The trail soon becomes steep, and Akaza is quick grab [Name] by the waist when she almost stumbles in the uneven ground. He can feel her softness through the fabric of her kimono, marvelling at how perfect she fits against his battle-hardened frame. They stare at each other in surprise, the close proximity between the two of them painting their faces a bright shade of red. Akaza reluctantly lets her go, immediately missing her soft and sweet frame against his, and he wonders if it has just been his imagination working in overdrive when he notices that [Name] sort of looks like she is feeling the same. He offers her his hand instead, and his heart leaps with joy when she shyly accepts his offer.

               [Name] looks around fifteen minutes later, seemingly checking for anyone in the trail with them.

               “Do you see anyone else here, Akaza-san?” she then asks him, her free hand clutching the sleeve of his dark blue gi like a child looking for an adult’s guidance. Akaza bites his lip to keep himself from smiling at the adorable sight, and focuses in their surroundings.

               Utilizing his heightened perceptions, Akaza shakes his head at [Name] when the only battle spirit he senses in the area is hers. “We’re the only ones here, [Name]-san,” he tells her, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

               [Name] smiles eagerly up at him and, to his surprise, leads him off the trail. They walk in silence deeper into the forest, to Akaza’s mounting confusion. [Name] seems to be growing more excited while they walk, and a gasp of delight slips past her lips when they reached a small clearing.

               “They’re here again!” she exclaims giddily and excitedly tugs Akaza along with her. Akaza looks around, unable to find the source of her excitement until his blues eyes shifts their focus on the small patch of flowers in the middle of the clearing.

               “Look, Akaza-san! Aren’t they pretty?”

               Heart beating wildly in his throat, Akaza gazes wide-eyed at the blue spider lilies before him. He cannot believe what he is seeing, cannot believe that the one thing his master has been looking for for centuries now lay in front of him.

               Akaza’s done it, he has succeeded more than the rest of his fellow Upper Moons! His long search for the mysterious blue spider lily has finally come to an end!

               [Name]’s delighted laughter reaches Akaza’s ears, snapping him out of his stupor. He watches as she plucks one of the blue spider lilies and shyly offers it to him.

               “I knew the sight of them would render you speechless,” she tells him softly, [colour] eyes glowing with pride and happiness, “just like they did to me when I first saw them two years ago.”

               Akaza lets [Name] guide him down until they are both seated on the grassy earth. He takes the proffered flower and studies it with open curiosity, prompting her to tell him what she knows of the strange flowers.

               “I found them by accident, you know,” [Name] says. “My first thought upon seeing them was how much money I could be earning should I sell them, but I realized that they’re better off staying here and flourishing by themselves. They’re strange, see, and I found out why the hard way. From what I’ve observed, they only bloom for three days every year! They only bloom during daylight and wilt when the sun sets. How very strange!”

               Ah. So that was why Lord Muzan’s search has been ruthless for the past centuries. The only thing he needs to fully unlock the immortality he so craves is perfectly guarded by the Sun he cannot conquer. And with such a short lifespan, it’s no wonder his fellow Upper Moons’ contacts cannot find even the shadow of the blue spider lilies.

               The success belongs to Akaza now, doesn’t it? He’s finally found the blue spider lilies. Plans to contact Lord Muzan and tell the latter of his find runs rampant in Upper Moon Three’s mind, but [Name]’s smiling face instantly derails his thought process.

               He knows Lord Muzan is a man who believed that his word is absolute. If Akaza tells him that he’s found the flowers through [Name], he is sure that the progenitor of demons would hold her accountable for his centuries’ worth of fruitless searching. Lord Muzan will accuse her of keeping the blue spider lilies’ existence and location a secret, thus endangering her and her brothers’ life should Akaza report his find.

               Akaza reminds himself that his loyalty is with Muzan alone. But what stands in his way of proving that loyalty comes in the form of the only friend he’s ever made his whole life – a friend whom he is quickly falling in love with. Would he be willing to trade the happiness [Name]’s presence offers him for the undying loyalty and servitude he’s first offered Muzan? Would he willingly go far as to endangering her life for the fulfillment of his mission?

               “I’ve been keeping their existence a secret from the townsfolk and the outsiders,” he hears [Name] speak to fill in the silence between them. Akaza looks at her, and he is reduced to admiring the way her cheeks flushed under his gaze, how her eyes brightened the longer she stares at him.

               Akaza’s heart is flooded with a surge of warmth and deep affection at the words she say next.

               “I want them to be just mine and Akaza-san’s secret, because… because Akaza-san is special to me!”

               The way [Name] speaks with such conviction has Akaza come to a decision himself.

               He would rather get himself into trouble for keeping his discovery a secret than to have the only light in his life be snuffed out because of him. He would lie to his fellow Demon Moons, would lie to Muzan himself, if it would keep [Name] safe. Akaza has never been this sure his entire life – in exchange for making him experience what it feels and means to be happy again, he would willingly die in his master’s hands in exchange of [Name]’s safety.

--

               At the end of the day and their trip to the forest, Akaza promises [Name] that the blue spider lilies’ existence will be their secret.

               The third Upper Moon – should he still call himself that? – gazes up at the moon through his room’s window. He can hear [Name] moving in her room next to his and soon enough, her soft footsteps approach. Akaza turns just in time to see her silhouette through the shoji door.

               “Akaza-san? I’m sorry for the intrusion, but are you still awake?”

               He gets up from his seat and moves to open the door. [Name] blushes under his gaze. She is carrying a tea set on a tray with her, and she seems to be fidgeting where she stands.

               “W-Would you like a cup of tea before you sleep?”

               She is acting like a caring wife, and Akaza is now convinced that he won’t trade her for anything in the world.

               He lifts a hand and softly pats her twice on the head, smiling affectionately at the meek smile she gives him.

               “Only if you join me,” he softly tells her. He quickly backpedals, however, when he realizes that he hasn’t been clear with his words when [Name] gapes up at him with wide eyes and a deep blush on her face. “W-With the tea– d-drinking t-tea, I mean! Please, h-have a cup of t-tea with me, b-b-before I sleep!”

               Face still flushed a lovely shade of red, [Name]’s tinkling laughter echoes in her humble home as she enters Akaza’s room.

.

.

.

.

[willowistic22]

August - Javid

Ship : Javid

Genre : Angst

Song : August - Taylor Swift

Warnings : fighting (arguing), slap, cursing, if there’s more feel free to remind me to tag it :)

A/N : so long overdue i am sorry but school is a bitch quote me in that one idc lol. Anyways, this is an almost 5 k words of angsty javid songfic (thank you @nowisthetimetocarrythebanner for helping me choose which ship to write first :)) Hope yall like it and not get tired of me being a huge swiftie hehe

Salt air

And the rust on your door

This isn’t what he’s used to. Davey always tells his parents if he’ll be going out no matter what, even if he knows they wouldn’t like it because Davey will always find a way to get around their disapproval. This is out of his disciplined nature, and he knows it. Yet, he’s so drawn to this idea. Of course he’s drawn to this idea if it isn’t Jackie boy’s idea.

The moment he heard a tapping noise coming from his window, his mind is no longer in between the words of the book his father had lent him for the night. He saw the boy’s figure waving frantically on the rusty fire escape and he knows it only leads to a bizarre idea Davey will end up regretting.

I never needed anything more

“This better be worth it,”

Oh, but it’s always worth it. It’s Jack for crying out loud. When will it not be worth it for Davey when it’s Jack knocking on his window?

He folds the corner of the page and closes the book. Tossing the book on the rickety bed that he and Les share and takes a few steps across his packed bedroom to get to his window.

He slides the window open. The gust of the summer night wind instantly entering his room, along with the remaining sounds that can be heard down in the streets. But his focus is all on the boy that came to visit him. Crooked smile, dirty coarse cheeks, ruffled dark brown hair, and a lighter shade of brown in his twinkling eyes.

Whispers

Of "Are you sure?"

“What if we get caught?”

“We won’t”

“You don’t know that”

“Well, we will if ya keep standin’ around in the middle of the street like that!”

“Jack, I’m serious!”

“And so am I, Dave!”

The nickname. It caught Davey off guard. It instantly stops his jabbering. He hasn’t heard that name in awhile, Davey forgot the effect it has on him. A fast heart rate, stiffen posture, and an uncontrollable mind.

Jack being Jack, took his silence as compliance. He continues to lead him in Ms. Medda’s theatre through the back door. Ms. Medda wouldn’t mind Jack sneaking around the theatre for whatever reason. But he’s still frowned upon by the bulls, which would mean their shady looking actions would be a reason to capture him.

Davey is still standing in front of the doorway in the alleyway, whilst Jack is already a few feet ahead of him inside. Jack turns around to see if he was following and walks back to the door to convince him one last time. 

He gives him his hand and voices out gently, “It’ll be fun. I promise”

And just like that, Davey is lured in his schemes once again. He reluctantly places his hand in Jack’s palm, which was instantly pulled through the door and into the backstage of Ms. Medda’s theatre.

“Never have I ever before”

Ms. Medda couldn’t be found as the two bolts passed the people working backstage. She’s performing with the rest of the Bowery Beauties. Jack’s been hearing Ms. Medda and the other performers practice this new song and was told that it’s being performed in front of an audience for the first time tonight.

Jack pulls Davey up to the scaffolding backstage so they can have a better view of the performance and a place to sit down peacefully. They let their legs dangle freely under the railings since no one will be able to see it. As Jack expected, Davey was captivated. As he puts his hands on the railing and leans forward for a clearer view, his green eyes twinkle like the stars and his smile as pure as gold. He usually hides his emotions well, but this time it was obvious this was his first time watching a performance in a theatre.

“You do this often, huh?” Davey said, eyes still glued down to the stage.

“Yeah, I’se like to sneak out after puttin’ the littles to sleep,” Jack answered. A moment of silence followed. Then Jack flips his head to gaze back at Davey and says, “It’s just the first time I brought someone with me”

Davey twists his head to face Jack. He sees the boy staring back, but he can’t decipher what about this stare that made it different from the other times they’ve shared a gaze like this. A weird feeling settles in Davey’s stomach. The feeling heats his cheeks and he knows it’s a blush.

The sudden sound of applause pulled them away from their made up universe. A standing ovation full of cheers and whistles. Jack twirls his head first, clapping softly to the feathery and glimmering ladies bowing towards the audience.

Davey’s composure hasn’t returned yet, he couldn’t find the strength to clap. He can only gaze down upon the bowing and try to decipher what had happened.

And when he least expected, Jack places a hand on the railing right next to Davey’s. His pinky slowly brushes over Davey’s. He keeps his hands absolutely still, stiffening up his whole left arm as their pinky intertwine. All while avoiding each other’s gaze in hopes to not ruin this little moment they’re sharing.

Oh, God, not again…

Your back

Beneath the sun

There’s this love hate relationship he has with Jack Kelly. The obvious reason is that the good person and amazing leader side he has is hidden under all the stupidity and spontaneous decisions that mostly leads to a catastrophe. Sure, he’s a figure to look up to for younger newsies taking on the world. But when he gets some space to do something self-indulgent, it can get a bit out of hand.

And then there’s also the not-so obvious reasons. The gentleness, the vulnerability, the oddly intense moments, the small kind gestures, all of which only Davey gets to see. He turns into a nervous wreck but seems to be addicted for more. It’s a different treatment from his other newsie friends, even a different kind of gentleness the littles receive.

When these moments first started happening, Davey thought this was a gateway to project his real feelings towards the boy. And every time after they have those special private moments together, Jack always pretends it never happens the next time they meet each other. It confuses Davey to no end. One moment they’re alone on the fire escape sharing deep secrets they’ve never told anyone before, soaking up whatever’s left of the sun before it sets. The next moment, they’re just ‘your super close pals being normal pals’.

He still hasn’t fully decided what to feel about this game he’s playing with Jack. It’s obviously dangerous, physically and emotionally. But it’s the only soft interactions Davey has ever gotten from Jack. He’s been aching for it the moment he fell for him back when the Manhattan newsies dragged him to strike.

So here he is now, standing in the circulation gate with his stack of paper in one hand and Les’ hand in the other. Ready to play along with whatever game Jack has in store for the two today. He hasn’t seen him this morning, and maybe it’s better that way.

Wishing I could write my name on it

Davey watches Les run across the circulation gates towards where his own newsie friends were waiting for him before they can start marching towards their usual selling spot. He smiles and waves back at the ten year old who seems to already be having too much fun with his friends to notice.

“They grow up so fast, huh?”

Davey twists his head around towards the source of the voice. The same boy from last night stands in front of him, proudly wearing a smirk while carrying his stack of paper.

“Well, it’s bound to happen one way or another” Davey replied, somehow being able to keep his cool.

Jack lingers in his green eyes for a moment. Davey can sense there’s a hidden meaning behind his gaze. And if his gut serves him right, it’s the same kind from last night.

Wait, what’s he doing?

He’d usually initiate the play pretend game early in the morning. But asking Davey to sell with him? That’s not pretending. Even if that game is still on his agenda for today, selling together would only make things harder.

Could it be an idiotic move for Davey to accept this invitation? Most likely. But with that offer on the table, it sparks a small flame in Davey’s curiosity. He wants to know what Jack has in mind for them.

Will you call when you're back at school?

After the two were done selling, Davey thought they were going to Jacobi’s to meet up with the rest of the newsies. But Jack turns out to have a different plan of his own. One which, like most of his other plans, brought fear upon Davey.

He led the two back to Medda’s theatre, where everyone was working backstage. They’re too busy to notice two rapscallion looking teens sneaking in the theatre.

“Jack, where are we going?” Davey finally asked as Jack continued to drag him towards the rows of seats in front of the grand stage.

They stop once they arrive in front of two specific chairs on the very last row. Jack takes a seat on one and puts his newsie bag on his lap. Davey can see a shape forming in it, despite knowing Jack had sold all of his paper earlier.

“Come on, sit down with me” Jack said, patting the empty seat next to him. Davey froze for a second, eyeing Jack skeptically. He rolls his eye with a little chuckle before pulling out the item hidden in his bag, revealing a sandwich he bought from Jacobi’s, “I got us lunch. So come sit down!”

Despite complying to the invite, Davey can’t figure out what were his intentions behind this plan. They sit in silence for the first few seconds, taking a few bites in their own respective sandwiches while staring at the stage being redecorated for tonight’s show.

“I wanted to ask somethin’… but… wasn’t sure if you’se okay talkin’ about it in front of the others…” Jack started out slowly without meeting Davey’s eyes.

At this point, Davey’s heartbeat was getting faster and louder. He so badly wants to hide his face in his hands, but his muscles have frozen in place. He keeps control of his eyes from moving, not wanting to take one glimpse at Jack to avoid a long drawn out stare.

“What is it?” Davey’s lips seem to have a mind of his own, growing impatient at the excessive silence. He mentally slaps it from thinking it was a good idea to make any sort of move.

In the corner of his eyes, he can see Jack turning his head to face Davey. Though he still doesn’t dare to look back.

“Are ya still gonna come by the lodge once you’se back to school?”

A silent sigh of relief escaped his lips, though it did kind of hurt when the question wasn’t what he expected. Nonetheless, he answers, “Well, not as often as now. But I’ll definitely come back every now and again”

August is ending and all the newsies knows Davey and Les are bound to go back to school. They’ve grown comfortable with the brothers, so it’ll definitely feel weird not having them around as often.

Never in his wildest dreams would Davey expect Jack asking about that topic. But going out of his way to drag him all the way here? And buying the two lunch while he’s at it? There has to be more than that, right?

I remember thinking I had you

“Are you gonna miss me?” Davey rounds up the last bit of courage in him to ask.

He hears Jack scoff and can feel the eye roll directed towards him, “Keep dreamin’, Dave!”

He finds the strength to look back towards Jack. Seeing the brunet cracking up a laugh through his smile, he laughs along with him.

Their sandwiches are now left as crumbs, but they didn’t bother walking out of the theatre. They were too entertained with their conversation. Davey noticed how quiet they’re being, despite being too far from anyone to hear what stupid nonsense spilled out of their mouths. There’s also that oddly intense feeling between their breaths, giving all their stupid nonsense a double meaning to it.

As time passes on, things start to escalate even further. It could be just Davey, but there’s something about the way Jack looks at him. His brown eyes look more cheerful and his smile is wider. Unprompted hand touches, so soft and slow yet utterly meaningless. There was no reason for Jack’s hand to dance around the palm of Davey’s. Nor was there a reason for said hand to travel to playfully touch his cheeks. And could their heads be slowly gravitating towards each other? Or could that just be Davey’s head playing tricks with all of this happening to him?

“So… will you be able to run the lodge without my help?” Davey asked, filling in the little silence settling between the two after a fit of giggles turned into a lingering gaze.

“I’se ran the lodge just fine before you and Les showed up,” Jack started, “ I’ll be fine without you!”

“Sure glad I won’t be missed” Davey joked, turning his head down to his hands on his laps.

“What? No! That ain’t what I meant!”

He reaches over to grab his hands gently, causing the taller boy to go beet red. He draws reassuring circles on the back of Davey’s hand, the goosebumps returning once again as he watches it unfold on top of his lap.

“We’ll be fine, but we’se gonna miss you guys,” Jack said.

The hand reaches up to Davey’s chin, forcing him to properly face Jack. His green eyes grew wide at the sight of the brunet boy staring longingly at Davey. He was for certain that their heads are slowly gravitating towards each other. With every inch closer, his heartbeat grows louder and faster. He couldn’t bear to keep his eyes open the moment he could feel Jack’s hot breath dancing on his face. His lips, already parted and so ready to be able to welcome Jack’s—

BANG!

The door right beside them swung open, causing the two boys to jump and return back to their respectful seats.

“Funny seeing you boys here!” A femenine voice rang through their ears, high and pitchy but with a friendly tone. 

They turn their heads towards the sound. There stood a tall figure. Head full of long red curls and clever light brown eyes darting between the two. Cheeks with some freckles animated to form a smirk on the pearl white face.

“And you have a proper excuse to be here, Kath?” Jack challenged her, “I’se sure you’se smart enough to know the first show of the day doesn’t start till later in the evenin’”

Jack’s smile was no longer centralized towards Davey again. He gets himself lost in Kathrine as she makes her way towards the stage with her notepad and pencil, brushing his witty remarks off with a little eyeroll.

Davey watches as he smiles at Kathrine’s presence and remembers the reality. He shifts back in his seat, trying his absolute best to make sure Jack doesn’t hear his heart breaking. That would be embarrassing if he found out Davey thought this wasn’t a game after all.

Back when we were still changing for the better

He quickly departs from the scene, not wanting to meet Jack’s face as he gets up from his seat. He left the theatre quickly, recollecting himself with a deep breath as he made his walk.

Davey repeatedly beat himself up for being such an idiot. There’s been multiple times that happened. When he thought something was going to be different between the two, something around them would remind them that it’s all just a game. It isn’t different than those previous times and will never be different. It’s just a concept Davey still needs to get used to.

Wanting was enough

For me, it was enough

Oh, how badly he longed for the feeling. The feeling to be held by him. The feeling to share a loving kiss. To share more little moments with him. With that infuriating and equally charming Jack Kelly.

Davey would scream in his head, over and over again, how that’s not possible. He isn’t meant to love and be loved by Jack. His heart was already reserved for Kathrine. He knew that from the moment he saw the way Jack acts around her. He could see hearts in his eyes, a brighter smile, and maybe a cockier manner.

When Jack was around him, it felt just like that but slightly different. Jack would be more gentle, tamed, and shier. Davey made up so many excuses in his head for that contrasting behavior, all of which benefits his own feelings. Though, he’s smarter than to think that is what’s actually going on. So he’d usually proceed to make up more excuses of how happy he is that Jack found Kathrine. It did sort of help him through this wave of sadness. Without it, Davey might not be able to blend himself with the crowd of people rushing up and down the sidewalk.

Cancel plans just in case you'd call

And say "Meet me behind the mall"

“Dave!”

The sound of his name made him look back. His heart starts beating faster when he saw it was Jack Kelly. He shouldn’t be standing still like this, waiting for Jack to catch up to him. It’s obvious Jack has his heart for someone else. Davey can’t keep waiting for him to keep up and chase after him only to be tossed to the side once he’s bored with the little game they’re playing.

Jack stops in front of him, crouching down with both hands on his knees. He takes a moment to catch his breath before properly standing up to flash his slightly red and sweaty face.

“You forgot your bag,” Jack said, pulling out a dirty newsie bag out of his own and presenting it to him.

He didn’t realize it wasn’t strapped around his torso like usual till now. He takes it from Jack’s hand and chuckles out through his small smile, “Thanks, Jack”

Davey awkwardly turns around, back to focusing on his trek. Before he took a step further, something grabbed his arm from behind and stopped him.

Before he knows it, Davey finds himself in an alleyway. Backed up against the wall by Jack, uncertainty makes up the lines and curves of his face. But Davey isn’t focused on his face. Rather, the lips that had crashed onto him with no warning.

So much for summer love, and saying “Us”

A few days have passed and Davey could still feel the feeling of those lips against his own. How it remained frozen for a moment when they first connected, but soon moved together once they’ve registered to what’s happening. It creates a sweet feeling that makes the two tremble in each other's grasps. He couldn’t describe what Jack tastes like, mainly because he was too focused on the feeling caused by the movement, but it was addicting and he wants more of it.

The feeling buzzed through him for the rest of the day till the next morning. Sarah and Les noticed it and kept on bugging their brother to spill, but nothing worked. Davey was still feeling the high of it after a few days but was able to ground his feelings so it won’t show up to the surface all that much.

Though, he’s still unsure if he should make a move. Jack somehow acted a bit stranger than usual. The ‘pretending that nothing happened’ game was on again, but this time he was more distant than usual. While the others were smiling and properly greeted Davey and Les when they arrived at the circulation gate, Jack just waved and quickly got himself busy on his own.

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

After a long day of selling, Davey sits down on one of the empty chairs at Jacobi’s for some lunch. His rousing newsie friends filling in the, once peaceful, deli with their chattering and laughter. Davey stays silent while Crutchie, Finch, and Specs talk about their day.

In storms, Race comes running in followed by Albert and takes up the last two chairs on their table. Their energy contrasts with the previous four, but they’re always welcome with their stupid grins.

“You’se two are excited” Crutchie commented after putting down his glass of water, “What happened?”

“You’se guys would never believe what just happened!” Race started, followed by a fit of laughter with Albert. Confused glances were shared between the other four. Upon seeing this, Race and Albert stopped to tell the story.

But I can see us

Lost in the memory

Race was wrong. Davey would absolutely believe what just happened. Though, he wishes he didn’t believe it. Or that it was just a lie. Whatever he can say that can dismiss what Race and Albert just told him. Because Jack kissed Kathrine and Davey can’t believe it’s true to save his poor heart.

He didn’t want to make it noticeable that he was storming out of Jacobi’s, but he desperately needed to see Jack again. His heart is fully shattered this time, he can’t take it any longer. Davey waited for a few minutes before he walked out, trying his absolute best to not let his shattered heart appear to the surface.

August slipped away into a moment in time

It didn’t take long for him to reach the lodge, Albert and Race had briefly mentioned from his story where Jack was. For the most part, Davey had ground his emotions. The sorrowful note in his heart, and just a little bit of anger, was hidden in front of his friends to avoid any questions. But the further away he got from them, the more of his emotions started to seep out of his skin.

He steps into the completely empty lodge. If Jack isn’t found inside, he’d probably be up on the roof. Davey walks up the rusty fire escape. He pops his head up and sees Jack sitting on the other side of the roof, to what Davey suspects to be, sketching something on a piece of paper with the way his back is bent forwards.

Davey is completely perplexed, seeing Jack going about his day as if he didn’t do anything. The lines on his face are drawn by anger, green eyes glowing with fire, hand forming into a fist that’s ready to strike.

He makes Jack notice his presence by purposely stomping loudly as he steps on the roof. Jack turns around from his drawing. Once he noticed it was Davey, he put his drawing down and stood up with a bright and innocent face to greet his friend, a huge contrast to Davey’s. Jack takes a few steps closer to him but still left a good amount of space between the two.

“Dave!”

'Cause it was never mine

He didn’t act up towards that nickname. He simply walks past Jack and purposely bumps their shoulder in a fit of rage. It was Jack’s turn to be perplexed.

He takes a moment before he turns around to hear why Davey was here. Jack got a vague answer when he was met by a strong slap to the face from Davey.

“Do I mean nothing to you?!”

Jack stands completely still in front of Davey, rage visibly coursing through his veins. Jack was left speechless from that unprompted slap. The pain still stinging on his cheek as it slowly turns redder and redder as the second passes.

He looks down to his feet, propping his hands on his hips before looking back up to Jack. Davey’s green eyes now slowly overflowing with water and holding a sob in his throat.

“Why’dju do it?” Davey’s voice cracked a bit at the end, “Why did you set me up in this... game?”

Davey lets one sob escape his lips but holds back the rest in his throat. He blinks a few of the tears away and looks back to where Jack’s face slowly starts to crumble now that he knows what’s this all about.

“Kelly, why did you kiss me?!” Davey raised his voice a bit.

Jack looks at him with wide eyes. Fear in his gaze upon seeing this side of Davey for the first time. He can’t find the answers to those questions. Not even the words to excuse himself.

Davey wraps his arms around his torso to find some form of comfort in this situation. He turns to look past him because looking at him in the eye hurts.

“I don’t get it….Y-you held my hand, you shared secrets, you showed me remarkable things…” Davey went on, the memories flashing in his head like a movie, “... But then after a few days you act like you don’t even know me!”

Jack watches as Davey tries to hold himself together to continue. He watches as his heart crumbles in front of him. The sound ringing in his ears is painful, knowing that it was coming from Davey. And even worse: Jack was the reason.

Davey turns his head to face Jack again.

“Was it stupid of me to fall for you? Was it... stupid of me that when you started doing all of that…” Davey started, voice reflecting the state of his aching heart, “I thought that maybe... you actually returned my feelings?”

“No” Jack simply answered after taking some time to ponder over it.

“But you also kissed Kathrine” Davey brought up what Race and Albert said earlier, “I even heard… you’re going on a date together…”

“Davey… where’dju even get that from?” Jack asked.

“Race and Albert. Sounds like you’re pretty open about it…”

Jack couldn’t move a muscle. His brain fully blanks as it drives Jack’s focus all onto the sobbing boy in front of him.

Back when I was living for the hope of it all

“I should’ve known…” Davey breathes out, dropping his head to the floor, “I should’ve fucking known…”

“No… No, don’t say that” Jack takes a few steps closer, desperately reaching his hands towards him. But Davey violently steps away. Jack knows it means he’s close enough, so he drops his hands to his side again.

“I shouldn’tve hoped for much...” Davey continued, a little raise to his tone but laced with suffering, “I knew from the start you wouldn’t care…”

“Davey, wait! It’s not what you think!”, Jack tries to get closer but ends up stepping backwards as Davey forces him to back away.

“Oh, is it?!” Davey challenged. His face, now shattered in pieces by the tears he could no longer hold back, “Did you fucking forget all those stupid moments you spent with me?! Making me think I actually mean something to you?!”

“Of course you mean somethin’ to me!” Jack stops Davey from pushing him even further, standing his ground with his feet and words. Or whatever it is he can come up in his brain in this heated situation, “I-it’s just… it’s… I don’t know, okay?”

Davey recollects himself as best as he can, furiously sniffing his nose while wiping the tears off his cheeks and eyes. He slows his breathing down while cynically staring at Jack. He slowly makes his way towards the brunet, keeping just an inch of space between their faces.

“Then let’s find out”

His warm breath linger in the limited space between them. The two boys lock their eyes in an intense stare. Davey parts his lips slightly open, testing Jack’s words by pushing him to act up.

Davey aches for another kiss, but he only lets his head tilt to the side while he waits for Jack. But Jack didn’t move. No muscle in him acted up to what he said. He just stood there, staring. Once again making Davey look like an idiot.

He purses his lips, another drop of water falling down his cheek. Davey turns on his heel and walks away from the scene.

“No, wait, I can explain!” Jack chased after the boy, grabbing his arm and twirling him to get them to face each other once again. But Davey’s face is now in pieces, as he barely can hold it in any longer the moment he turned his face away from Jack.

“Let go, Jack,” His voice was shaky and breathy, “Please… I can’t do this anymore…”

The sound of his pressed down sob down his throat broke Jack’s heart even further. He loosens his grip from the boy, letting his hands slide down his sides. He watches as Davey sniffles and wipes his eyes with his sleeves.

“Take care, Jackie,” Davey said before turning around and walking away.

Watching Davey walk away like that left Jack speechless and heartbroken. A wave of guilt and regret rises from his stomach towards his eyes. It wells up with water, watching one of the most important people in his life walk away.

As Davey exits the empty lodging house, he takes in every detail of the house. Whether it’s a crack on the wall, a rust on the bunk bed, or even the precious little trinkets his friends left lying around, Davey examines it till it’s embedded in his brain. After this day, he might not have the strength to come back. Ever.

[operator-101001]

The Shop Next Door

I’m not sure when exactly I noticed the window. The charming little music shop in my hometown had been hiring during the summer between my first and second years of college. I needed the money and they needed the help; poor old Mr. Johnson just didn't have it in him to work the store all by himself anymore. After all, amps and cellos were cumbersome, and the old man was growing more brittle by the day.

I had been working there for roughly three months––in fact, my first summer was beginning to come to a close when I went fiddling with the shelf behind the register. Our customers were sparse, since demand for used trumpets and crumbling drum sets was low, so I figured I could make myself useful by unboxing and restocking the shelves with some recent shipments of brass polish and different sorts of oil. I was searching for the box cutter, maybe some scissors, groping my way around behind me while something else drew my attention; perhaps a fly, or someone driving a brightly-colored car past the door in the corner of my eye. I fumbled whatever item my hand had found, and in an effort to catch the hefty bottle of cleaner now making a swan dive to the floor, I ended up swiping clean the entire cluttered shelf that always sat inches behind my back.

That was when I saw it. It was a window positioned innocently behind the shelf, and through it, I could see straight into the shop next door. It was a quaint tea shop with oak floors and flaking white paint on the walls, complete with faded blue accents on the wood trim. I watched a patron––a suited man of about forty––walk through the front door, ringing the little brass bell hanging above it and alerting the delightfully cheery woman behind the shelf of his presence. I could even hear the muffled sounds of their speech vibrate through the now unobstructed glass.

I felt almost foolish for having never seen the feature of the building before, but it wasn’t exactly obvious. In fact, it was quite an easy window to miss; it had been sitting behind this shelf located at the back of whoever was running the register for who knows how many years, covered by the mountains of useless things that my boss had accumulated over time. I loved working here, I really did, but Mr. Johnson could be a bit of a hoarder at times. He kept trinkets and notes everywhere, busying up the paltry shop with useless antiques and age-old papers that no longer served any purpose. I organized things whenever I had time, but there weren’t many places to move the hoard to in such a petite building. With a single register and few daily customers, it only took one person to run the music store. I had to admit, it was a nice gig.

More falling trinkets––this time a pile of old keychains––drew me out of my thoughts and back to the entrancing window. I had to crane my neck strangely to see anything on account of the window being put behind a shelf on both sides. It seemed that whoever ran this whimsical shop next door had also half-hidden and forgotten about this adjoining window.

I stood there with my eyes glued to the scene, examining every detail to make sure of what I was seeing. I felt my mouth go a bit dry, a tepid flash of unease flashing rapidly through my stomach and into my trachea. My palms turned clammy. My heart pounded. The discovery didn’t frighten or shock me as much as dement my mind, for it was not the tea shop itself that unsettled me, nor the friendly conversation being had as that nice woman made the customer his tea. It was not the amount of detail, from the polished marble shelf their register sat upon to the neat, hand-written menu hanging over it and the slight give of the floorboards as the customers walked over them.

It was the fact that there was no building next door.

To ascertain that I wasn’t losing my mind or mid-stroke, I marched out of the music store, walking to the side of the storefront where I had seen the window. Just as I’d seen for all the months I had shown up to work, there was nothing; just the broad alley separating my shop from the next building over. I looked at the siding of the music store, a bit relieved yet surprised to find nothing. Staring back at me were nothing but faded bricks without a window in sight. But when I walked back inside and took my seat behind the register, swiveling my chair around to the back, I could still see the impossible tea shop that sat next door.

I decided to ask my boss about it. The next day, I gave him a call.

“Mr. Johnson? I have a question,” I told him, trying to think of how I could possibly begin to phrase it. Thoughts of being accused of insanity were pushed to the very back of my mind by a crazed sort of curiosity. I needed to know. “You know that shelf behind the register, the one where you keep the cleaner and keychains? Is there a window behind that shelf?” He had been bushwhacked when I asked him the question. Then came the suspiciously-hurried answer of no, there was not, nor had there ever been a window there, and was I feeling okay, and just what was it that I thought I saw?

I was upfront. I told him about the tea shop in as much detail as I could. I told Mr. Johnson about the brass bell over the door and the man in the suit who I watched order tea from the bubbly woman behind the counter, and how I carefully examined the outside of the building to make sure I wasn’t crazy. Mr. Johnson was very quiet after that. Our conversation ended with him instructing me to cover up the window and never talk about it again if I wanted to keep my job. That was the only time Mr. Johnson had ever threatened to fire me.

And so, per his request, I replaced the hoard of useless things to its place on the shelf, effectively blocking the window from my view. I became a model employee, taking in instruments to repair, selling guitar strings, trading used equipment and the like; all while the improbable tea shop bustled with life behind me, so active and fresh yet simultaneously absent, unable to truly exist. It was like a ghost of a place entirely dead to time, yet every time I heard the muffled ring of that brass bell, I longed to ask more questions.

It’s been years since then. I have since finished college, and everyone around me was overjoyed by my success. I returned to my hometown, planning to remain with my parents until I could get a good job sorted out. I had put in the work; I expected to be able to land anywhere I wished in my field. In time, that window would fall into the furthest recesses of my mind, written off as some insane fractal of my imagination used to distract me from the boredom on days when no customers at all would walk through the door. However, it seemed that in the end, my career path had been decided for me.

Mr. Johnson passed away last spring. He didn’t have any family, so he left his shop to me. I intend to keep it open as long as I can. After all, it’s good money, the people are nice, and I truly am interested in being surrounded by music. And so, I show up every day and clean the windows; I sweep the floor every evening before I leave; I sell drumsticks and guitar picks to students and old, grizzled musicians alike. And, with no one to answer to, I cleared just a bit of the clutter from the back shelf. Every now and then, when the days are quiet and the shop is empty, I’ll turn my gaze to the shop next door and watch the grinning lady happily serve up tea to her enigmatic customers.

[nomanwalksalone]

THE MAN WHO OWNED TOO MUCH

by Daniel Penny

My wife and I began to plan our move from Brooklyn to a little flat in Cambridge, UK in June of 2020. She’d gotten into a PhD in February, but then COVID made the idea of moving across the Atlantic seem like an insane proposition. By the summer, with the infection numbers, down, we decided to go through with it, which meant we only had about two months to find a new place, clear out our old one, sort our Visa paperwork, and get a pet passport for our dog.

With so many moving parts, the packing of what we actually planned to take with us fell low on our list of priorities. I knew there would be things we couldn’t bring; some pieces of furniture and plants were being taken under temporary custody by friends and family, and the rest I had to sell on Instagram. And there was plenty of junk to clear out. Over the course of the summer, a steady stream of random objects made their way to our brownstone’s stoop: a well-loved yellow Le Creuset tea kettle, a broody Gerhart Richter poster, a Christmas tree stand. This was all easy enough to part with--things I liked at one time, had served me dutifully, but now had to leave my possession.

Normally, when I take a trip, I’m a ruthless packer. When my wife and I went on our honeymoon to Paris and Sicily a few years ago in late September, the weather was already turning crisp in the city of lights, but the sun was shining steadily on the ruins of Syracuse. Weaker souls would have checked a bag, but we did three weeks with a carry-on each, rewearing the same stuff, washing things as needed, and enjoying the freedom of being unencumbered (and the joys of eating delicious food and having put our wedding behind us). But this trip was different. I would not be returning to my closet and wardrobe filled with all the things I’d elected not to bring. This would be a final parting, and I was reluctant to let go of any of my hard-won treasures. The hours spent on eBay alone!

When September rolled around and I still hadn’t cleared out my closet, my wife’s occasionally disapproving glances turned into full time pestering--with good reason. Like many wannabe-gurus in the world of men’s fashion, I’ve long preached buying better and less, but that doesn’t mean I actually take my own advice. After living in New York for nine years and only moving once (to the apartment above our first place), I had accumulated a lot of stuff: ten pairs of jeans, six pairs of chinos and cords four sport coats, three suits, a tuxedo, a half-dozen jackets and coats, way too many ties, shorts and swimsuits, athletic gear, mountains of socks and underwear and old T-shirts, two dozen pairs of shoes, and enough sweaters to knit a flock of sheep. It was an embarrassment of riches.

What’s worse, I’d been insisting that my wife was the one with the fashion problem. That she needed to get rid of things we couldn’t possibly bring to England. Old J.Crew stuff she never wore anymore, cheap jeans with holes not worth repairing. My therapist would call this a case of projection. With only three days before our flight, it came time to actually pack, and my wife did so with ease--while I was jumping on my suitcase and wrestling the zippers shut. In the end, I had dozens of items that couldn’t make the cut, and bid my farewells.

The past decade has seen a vogue for capsule wardrobes, closet edits, and decluttering. Each has its own philosophy for how you should decide what to keep or discard: Does it work with your other clothes in nearly infinite combinations? Does it spark joy? I can’t say I was so methodical in my selection. Mostly I kept my nicest things and tossed what I’d held onto beyond its prime, or that no longer fit, or what was no longer in fashion. What I had cherished and hoarded left my apartment in garbage bags, dumped unceremoniously at a local thrift store. Nobody wanted to buy them, so I had to give them away.

With my reduced wardrobe, I’ve resolved to think about my stuff in a new way. What I brought were all my favorite things, a rugby stripe shetland, a perfectly distressed pair of 501s--but because they were my favorite clothes, I had been treating them with too much reverence, afraid of wearing them out or staining them. They would last forever, but only by denying myself the pleasure of wearing them! Now I have no other choice; I wear my good clothes all the time. I take the dog for a walk in my favorite sweater and trustiest boots, and I live with the consequences. I’ve come to see that actually, I was able to bring everything that matters, but I’ll try to leave that old preciousness behind.

[starcountesseevee]

A Rocket Coincidence (Part 30)

Whaaaat? Chapter 30 already! I never imagined getting this far with the story. Thank you to all who are still reading this!

Part 29 / Part 31

     Kali kicked a small stone down the sidewalk as she made her way back home, take-out bag in hand. Neither her nor Mara had felt like cooking and Kali had offered to grab some food while Mara cleaned up after work. She had called ahead since it was a Friday night and had expected a wait but what she had not expected was to run quite literally into Julia, Mara’s ex, as she was leaving the restaurant. They had both made awkward apologies and Julia surprised her by asking how Mara was. The question caught Kali off guard and it took her a moment to answer but when she said Mara was fine she was further surprised to see that, instead of looking happy for her, Julia looked a bit hurt. Kali had spent most of the short walk home analyzing this information and wondering if she should tell Mara or not.

     The rock bounced off the front of the studio and off into the street. From around the corner Kali could hear what sounded like Nero and Rowan playing which meant Mara had probably pulled the small table and chair set outside to eat dinner at. Now that the weather had warmed up on nice evenings, after they closed up the studio, they would sometimes sit and eat outside to enjoy the weather. The view wasn’t much, just the long parking lot that served all the small businesses on their block that was mostly empty this time of evening.

     Rounding the back of the building confirmed her theory and Kali was more than happy to take the glass of wine Mara offered her as she took a seat and got out the food.

     “So how was your day, dear?” Kali joked once they were settled.

     “Quite busy actually, hence the wine.” She gestured to the already half empty wine bottle. “More than half of the last two classes were newbies.”

     “Yikes.”

     “How about you, dear. Get up to anything exciting?”

     “Nothing really…” Kali let the sentence trail off as she questioned again whether she should mention seeing Julia to Mara. Not that it was anything much but in the end she figured it’s better to say something then not. “I did just run into Julia though…”

     “Oh?” Mara’s tone was flat.

     “Yeah, it was nothing really. She just asked how you were.”

     “Please tell me you said I was doing great. Fabulous even.”

     “Something along those lines.” Kali smirked at Mara’s nod of approval. “She did seem...I don’t know. Maybe a little bummed out about that?”

     “Doesn’t surprise me.”

      “No?”

      Mara paused, taking a long sip from her glass before answering. “She may have texted me the other day. Asked how I was. Wanted to meet up for coffee.”

      “What!?” Mara just shrugged in response. “Well, what did you tell her? Are you going to go?”

     “I didn’t answer, haven’t decided yet.”

     “Oh Mar…”

     “Don’t give me that pitiful tone.” Mara rolled her eyes, making them both laugh. “I did my crying already. At this point I’m more curious what her angle is. But anyway, it’s neither here nor there.” Taking another sip from her glass she carried on with a new subject. “So summer is coming up, have you thought about taking time off to travel anywhere this year?”

     Kali knew she was purposefully changing the subject but decided to let it slide and not press the issue. Instead she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the top of the chair while she pondered her answer. The truth was she had thought about traveling for either a competition or to earn more gym badges but unless she wanted to repeat competitions in Kanto or Johto, where she had earned all the gym badges she could, she would have to travel far. And she wasn’t sure what that would mean for the studio. Business was great and they rarely had empty spots in class, so leaving Mara alone for longer than a few days would be hard.

     “Earth to Kali?”

     “Hmm? Oh.” Kali was pulled from her thoughts and she glanced over at her friend with a frown. “About that.”

     “Uh oh, that sounds ominous.”

     “Well…” Kali began, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment before continuing. “The thing is I’ve done everything I can for Kanto and Johto.”

     “Oh my Mythics, will you just spit it out?”

     “Alright, geeze, hold your Rapidash. What I’m trying to say is that I have thought about it, but if I want to progress as a Trainer it would mean traveling somewhere other than Kanto or Johto. And if I’m going that far I think I would have to take longer than a week. It just wouldn’t be worth the expenses and headache of trying to plan out traveling to say Hoenn for a couple days at a time every other week. If I go I think I’d like to stay and complete everything I can before coming home.” Kali glanced over at Mara to see her reaction, growing more nervous as the seconds ticked on.

 ��   “That’s fair.” Her tone was brighter than Kali had expected, maybe it was the wine. “Does Cliff know about this?”

     “I...no. Not yet. But we’re pretty much in a long distance relationship anyway. We’ll make it work. It’s you and the studio I’m more concerned with. Classes are full, we’re both working our butts off already. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable leaving you to do it alone.”

     “So we hire someone.”

     “What?” Kali blurted out in surprise.

     “We hire someone to help out. And when you’re back it’ll give us a break on our schedules too.”

     “Can we afford that?”

     “Yeah, it’s something I’ve thought about before. We've just been so busy lately I haven’t had time to really put an effort into it. But yes, we can afford it. Business is good, we don’t owe anything on the property so overhead is small, and with the added boost of commission from selling Erica's products…yeah. We can swing it."

     "Wow. Well, okay then. What do you need me to do?"

     "Make up an advertisement?"

     "I can do that." Kali paused to finish what wine was left in her glass. "We could start with flyers around the studio. There are quite a few regulars that have been with us for a while that might be interested."

     "I like that, I knew I kept you around for a reason." Ignoring Kali’s eye roll she stretched in her chair before standing up, unable to stop the yawn that escaped her. "I'm gonna head inside. You staying out here?"

     "For a bit. I'll put the table away when I'm ready to come in."

     Kali gazed out into the parking lot as she absentmindedly scratched Rowan, who had come over to nuzzle her hand after the door shut behind Mara. Now that there was a solution for a prolonged absence, what exactly did she want to do? Hoenn had been the first place that came to mind, the tropical weather being a big plus especially if her trip lasted into the fall, but there were plenty of other places she could go too. Well it would still be a while in the future, she thought as she began pulling the table and chairs in, plenty of time to figure it out. Closing up the back door to the studio she called for Rowan and Nero to follow her and headed back upstairs for the night.

Part 29 / Part 31

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Tea Rose 

Prompt:  Insects at night; bubble bath; Victorian

Group: C

-

North Star 

The water was deliciously warm, and Belle sighed, sinking lower in the bath and letting her knees rise up. Tiny bubbles were rolling down her thighs into the water, waves of white foam from the rose and lavender soap she had used. They piled against her wet skin, and she lifted a foot, lathering the soap between her hands and stroking fragrant froth between her toes. The sound of swift footsteps made her glance around, and she smiled as her maid, Ruby Lucas, entered with a copper jug full of steaming water.

“Last one, Miss Belle,” she said breathlessly, and Belle sat forward, hugging her knees as Ruby poured in the hot water, making the bubbles seethe and burst.

“Thank you,” said Belle, relaxing back and letting her arms stretch out. “Did I hear the front door just now?”

“Mr Gold arrived,” said Ruby, and seemed to bite her lip to hide a smirk as Belle squeaked.

“Mr Gold? But he hasn’t visited in an age! Is he staying long?”

“Tiana was making some supper for him while I was fetching the water,” said Ruby, with a grin. “So it looks that way, Miss.”

Belle floundered, pushing herself upright and splashing water over the edge of the tub.

“Hurry! My blue dress!”

-

Ruby was used to her mistress’s impulsive nature and swift decisions, and she managed to get Belle dressed and ready quickly, although Belle thought it fortunate that she hadn’t washed her hair that evening. She hurried from her room as soon as the last pin was in place, and paused at the top of the stairs, hands smoothing her skirts nervously. Voices were drifting up from her father’s study, and Belle clutched at the smooth oak banister, her heart pounding and the colour rising in her cheeks as she recognised the warm brogue of Mr Gold. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the way his smile made the corners of his mouth twist and his eyes gleam with a soft, amber light.

He had been friends with her father for some time; Maurice French’s strange inventions and boundless enthusiasm for the latest scientific discoveries made him somewhat eccentric in the eyes of his peers, but Mr Gold shared his interests, and the two of them had struck up a friendship. Gold had a fine house in London and an estate north of the Scottish border that Belle had regrettably never seen. Maurice didn’t like to travel, preferring to spend all his time at home, shut up in his workroom or reading in his library. Gold travelled a great deal, searching far and wide for a son he had lost and was desperate to find.

Belle had seen a picture of his son once, a drawing in charcoal of a dark-haired boy of around fourteen. It had been crumpled and a little smudged at the edges, as though it was looked at often. Thinking of the pain that Gold had carried for years made her heart ache for him, but he always had a smile for her, and a present from his travels, and fascinating tales of the places he had visited. He had been coming to the house regularly for the past five years, and Belle had been completely in love with him for around four and a half. For all the good it did.

She took a deep breath, composing herself before she entered the room, and both men turned to look at her, Maurice short and round with a balding head and bristling white mustache and Gold a little taller, thin and clean-shaven. He wore his brown hair longer than was fashionable, curling over the collar of his coat and brushing his cheeks. It was turning silver at the temples, and she had always thought how soft it looked, and how much she wanted to touch it. There was an old ring on his right hand, a moonstone in a heavy gold band, which she had noticed him turning between finger and thumb when lost in thought. Gold bowed his head as she entered.

“Miss French,” he said. “You’re looking remarkably well.”

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s been too long since we saw you, hasn’t it, Papa? Where did you go?”

Gold glanced between them.

“I just returned from the south of France,” he said. “Choppy waters in the Bay of Biscay, but the winds were with us.”

“Oh!” said Belle excitedly. “I’d love to go to France! Please, tell me what it was like!”

Gold turned towards her, the little smile he often wore twisting his mouth and making his dark eyes gleam in the lamplight.

“I rode a horse through endless fields of lavender,” he said softly. “The scent filled the air around me, and seemed to sink into my skin, so that I could smell it at night when I lay down to sleep. The road was hard earth, baked and cracked by the sun, winding between small villages and farms where the locals dozed in the shade of the olive trees with their cats. In the evenings, the sun would set in a blazing puddle of molten gold, and I ate fresh bread and soft, pungent cheese and drank red wine that was dark as blood and tasted of spices.”

Belle could feel her mouth fall open as the sound of his voice washed over her, filling her mind with the images his words created. His eyes were fixed on hers, his gaze steady.

“Must be a shock to come back to London, what?” said Maurice jovially, and Gold looked away, breaking the spell.

“The city is even busier and dirtier than I remember,” he said, with a grin. “It’s strange: I tell myself each time I go that I should sell the house and leave London entirely, yet something keeps pulling me back, turning me home. Like a guiding light. Like the North Star.”

He glanced briefly at Belle, and she felt a blush begin to heat her cheeks. Please don’t leave, she thought. Please don’t leave me.

“It’ll keep your housekeeper on her toes,” chuckled Maurice.

“Poor Mrs Potts,” said Gold, sounding rueful. “I fear the house will still be shut up tight. I’ll have to let myself in and build a fire. It’ll be the devil’s work for my valet trying to make me presentable tomorrow morning; he does like to do things properly.”

“Then stay with us, my dear fellow!” cried Maurice, patting his shoulder. “Goodness, you can’t be expected to open up the house yourself at this hour!”

“Well, it would certainly be a relief not to have to go out again,” said Gold. “The journey was rather tiring. Of course, I wouldn’t want to impose...”

“Not at all, not at all,” said Maurice. “Let me speak to Mrs Lucas. I’ll have one of the guest rooms made ready, and Locksley will look after your man.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind.”

Maurice bustled out, and Gold turned to Belle with a smile.

“I’m sorry to be calling so late, Miss French,” he said. “After travelling for so long, I almost lost track of the day, not to mention the hour.”

“We’re very glad to see you,” she said warmly, almost reaching for his hand before remembering herself and pulling back. “And you must be tired. Please, don’t feel that you have to stand on my account. Do take a seat, I insist.”

Gold’s smile widened.

“I could never refuse you anything, Miss French.”

-

Gold was served a simple supper of raised game pie, bread and cheese, and afterwards he and Maurice drank brandy and talked over the latest news. Belle was eager to hear more stories of the trip to France, and Gold obliged, telling her of the sights he had seen on the roads through Provence to Avignon.

“Sounds dusty,” declared Maurice. “And much too hot. This summer has been wretched. Far better to stay at home.”

“Well, I would love to travel,” said Belle. “I always wanted to see the world. I’ve lived twenty years, and barely left London! What I wouldn’t give for some adventure!”

“You young people are too restless,” grumbled Maurice. “Certainly I have no desire to be always going here, there and everywhere. And certainly young women shouldn’t be travelling alone and - and adventuring. It’s unseemly.”

“This is the Victorian age, Papa,” said Belle severely. “If Her Majesty is considered capable of ruling an entire empire, then allowing the rest of us women the freedom to do as we please will hardly bring about the downfall of civilisation.”

Maurice clicked his tongue.

“Really, Belle!” he said. “What must Mr Gold think of you?” “Mr Gold agrees wholeheartedly,” said Gold. “The world would be far better if women had the same freedoms as men, and were recognised for the infinitely superior creatures they are. Where will you go on your travels, Miss French?”

Belle thought for a moment.

“Perhaps I shall start a little closer to home,” she said. “I have always wanted to visit Scotland.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to come to Dundorcha,” he said. “Although at this time of year, the midges will want to eat you alive.”

“Perhaps in the winter, then,” she suggested, and he smiled.

“I’ll make you very welcome.”

-

It was nearing midnight. Maurice was snoring in his chair, and Belle had followed Gold out onto the balcony overlooking the rear gardens. The summer night was cool, the only light coming from the oil lantern that Gold had carried with them and placed on the table where Belle took her morning tea. A moth appeared out of the night, batting translucent wings against the lantern’s glass shade. Smaller insects joined it, the glow from the lantern catching them, brief flecks of light in the darkness. Gold was gazing out into the night, his expression distant, thoughtful. His fingers turned that old ring, the gold band catching the light from the lantern.

“Where did you get that ring?” asked Belle. “I always meant to ask. It looks old.”

Gold looked down, splaying his fingers.

“It is,” he agreed. “Older than you might think.”

“Is it a family heirloom?” she asked, and he smiled in an almost secretive way.

“Something like that.”

“A good luck charm, perhaps?” she suggested, and he shrugged.

“It’s supposed to help the bearer find what it is they want most in the world,” he said, and leaned towards her, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s magic.”

“Really?” she asked, a little breathless at his closeness of him. Gold pulled back, a tiny sigh escaping him.

“Well, that’s what I hoped,” he said, sounding resigned. “A fool’s hope. There is no magic in this world. At least, not any more. Perhaps there used to be.”

He sounded despondent, and she wanted to comfort him, to tell him there was always hope.

“Is there no word of him?” she asked gently. “No word of your son? I’m sure you’ll find him. I can feel it.”

Gold shook his head, his mouth twisting.

“I’ve been searching for so long now,” he said quietly. “Every time I hear the faintest rumour I pick up and I chase after it. Every time I’ve been disappointed.”

“You mustn’t give up hope,” she said, and he turned to her with a sad smile.

“I try to keep faith that I’ll find him,” he said. “Alas, this time it was not to be. I didn’t choose the right place. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even in the right time.”

“The world is vast,” she said. “Trying to find one person out of - of thousands - must be next to impossible. You can’t blame yourself.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “And perhaps it isn’t merely my own misfortune. If he wanted to be found, he wouldn’t make it so difficult.”

Belle stepped closer.

“You think he’s - hiding - from you?” she asked curiously, and he sighed gently.

“There was a misunderstanding,” he said. “Before he - before I lost him. I think he might still be very angry with me.”

Belle bit her lip, shaking her head.

“But you’re his father,” she said softly. “He must know that you love him. He can’t stay angry forever.”

“I hope you’re right.”

His eyes were downcast, and he suddenly looked very tired. Tired and sad. On impulse, Belle stepped close, turning her face upwards and pressing her mouth to his. She felt him freeze at the touch of her lips, and she drew back, her heart pounding. Gold was staring at her wide-eyed, a stricken look on his face, but then his gaze darkened and he reached out to cup her cheeks with warm hands, bending his head to kiss her.

Belle opened her mouth a little, a moan escaping her as his lips met hers, soft and warm. The touch of his tongue made her rise up on her toes and press her body to his, and he let out a low groan as she slid her hands around his waist. A faint, jagged noise seemed to burst outwards, like the sound of glass shattering in the distance, and Belle’s eyes flew open as what looked like a rainbow-hued ripple spread out from them and dissipated. Gold was breathing heavily, staring at her wide-eyed.

“What was that?” she gasped, and he smiled broadly, gazing at the ring on his finger, which seemed to pulse with a soft light.

“A second chance,” he breathed. “A spark of magic. I can find him. With this I can find him.”

“Magic?” she asked, puzzled, and he cradled her cheeks with his palms, still grinning. He looked to be on the verge of tears, and she couldn’t understand it.

“The most powerful magic of all,” he said softly. “Powerful enough to transcend realms and trigger the spell in this ring. True love.”

Belle clutched at his waist, nodding fiercely.

“Yes!” she whispered. “I do love you! I’ve loved you for so long!”

“And I love you, too.” He pressed his forehead to hers, seeming to breathe in her scent. “I never dared to hope that you might feel the same, my darling Belle. I never dared to dream that you might want me. And now you’ve given me this gift. This chance.”

“I - I don’t understand,” she said. “What did I do?”

His thumbs stroked her cheeks, his nose brushing against hers.

“There’s power in love, Belle,” he said. “Love creates magic. Magic enough to let me find my boy. Will you come with me?”

Belle smiled at his strange talk of magic, reaching up to stroke a hand through his hair. It was every bit as soft as she had thought.

“I’d love to,” she said. ”We’ll see the world, just as I always wanted. I’ll help you find him, I swear it. Whatever you need.”

Gold kissed her again, soft lips gently pulling at her own, and she melted into the kiss, safe in his arms. Magic or not, it would be the most wonderful adventure.

-

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: A bit of angst

A/N: Sort of trucking along, now into chapter 4, which gets us into the meat of this whole story, so I guess this sorta qualifies as a slow burn?  Not sure.  Anyway, enjoy!

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer , @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld , @lilkermit14 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

Part 2 – Well, It’s Valuable for Starters

Coral Gables Restaurant sits right on the banks of the Kalamazoo River, serving as the perfect backdrop to any lunch or dinner date.  It was Robert’s favorite place to eat and the whole staff knew him.  So, lunch dates for the two history buffs could last hours and no one would say anything to them.

Long after the lunch plates had been taken away, Robert nursed his beer and Rosemary leaned back in her chair, letting the early summer sun warm her skin.  As she sat there with her eyes closed, Robert let himself just watched her.  She was tall with a brunette pixie cut – the only hair style he’s ever seen her sport – and he noted there was greyer hair than when they first met and finer lines on the youthful face.

She took up a lot of space with her personality and that’s what he loved best about her.  Of all the people Robert called his friends, none were close to him like she was. When he met her not long after she started at the museum and it was an almost instant rapport.

He never had children of his own, never even gotten married.  But something about Rosemary drew him to her and he felt this love for her like he hadn’t ever felt for anyone else in his nearly seventy-two years.  When the doctor gave him the prognosis, he realized the sadness that had washed over him wasn’t about his death but the fact that he had someone he was leaving behind. It both hurt and consoled him.  He wasn’t going to be alone.

“Rosie.”  His voice was soft, but she still heard him and opened her eyes.  He smiled at her and she sat up and nodded, pulling her chair closer so she was more comfortable to chat.  The waitress appeared with refills for Rosemary’s lemonade and another beer for Robert.  They stayed quiet until she left.  When they were alone again, she raised her eyebrow and gestured for him to continue.

“If there are things in those boxes that you can sell for the museum, go for it.  There are a few I want the museum to have and one item it needs to take.”

“Well, I doubt I’ll take anything that will cause me extra work, but we can draw up the deed of gift on the other items as normal.  I already have my eye on a few things, which are probably among what you are already giving us.”  He nodded. “What’s the item you want us to take for sure?”

“The Cornucopia.”  Her eyebrow raised in confusion at the comment.  “It’s a priceless art piece, a friend of mine valued it at three-quarters of a million dollars. On the low end of things.”

“WHAT?” Rosemary’s jaw dropped.  Holy shit.

“I know, I was surprised it valued so high as well.  I bought it at an antique shop in Chicago years ago and given how valuable it is, I want the museum to have it.”

“Uh, hell yeah!”  Rosemary’s eyes began to gleam with glee and Robert laughed.  He knew she was thinking of Fred and he was pleased he could help her get a leg up on the man.  While Breyers had never been anything but courteous towards the storeowner, there was an underlying hostility to the curator’s words and actions.  Something about the greedy curator never sat well with Robert and he shared in Rosemary’s dislike of him.  

“When we head back to the house after lunch, we’ll talk more.”  The two sat back and grinned at each other.

---***---

“But, ma’am. . . Ma’am. . .” Agent Horacio paused, the murderous look on their face not even showing up in their voice.  “Ma’am, I get what you are saying.  I’m asking you to set up a meeting with me to go over the case. Yes, we reopened it.  Yes, we’re working on it.  Now if you would just. . .”

The ever-patient voice of the agent faded into the background as Carmichael skirted the table with a handful of photos, a small smirk on her face. She walked up next to Pike as they filled the evidence board with the last of the pictures from the case files.  A second and third board were set up on the other side of the room, allowing the team to make further critical connections to the cases they had so recently linked together.

They worked quietly for a bit, Carmichael subtly shooting glances at Pike, whose brow was furrowed in concentration.  Finally, her curiosity got the better of her and she turned to look at her partner.

“Okay, spill.  How did the date go with Lucy in Accounting?” Her voice dropped to a whisper belying the eager look on her face.  Pike grimaced at the question as he pressed on the last of the push pins.

“There was no date. She stood me up.”  Her loud gasp caused a few of their team to look their way, but she ignored them, giving Pike a look to continue.  “I called twice, and she never answered.  Never even showed up to the date itself.  I don’t think I can go back to Bobby’s anymore.  Lindsey is starting to feel sorry for me.”

“Hell, I feel sorry for you, Pike.  That’s the third date you’ve been stood up on in, what? Two months?” Carmichael’s voice softened.  The poor man was having a rough time of it, what with Lisbon breaking his heart, his divorce before that, three failed short-term relationships after he came to D.C., and now this series of no-show dates over the last year.  She frowned and laid a hand on his wrist, which had stilled on the last pin as his words died on his tongue.

He didn’t look at her and she could feel him stiffen underneath her touch. He pushed down his growing frustration at the situation and turned to smile at her, the grin not coming close to reaching his eyes.  His shoulders squared up as if to say the conversation was done.  She had known the man for six years and just wanted him to be happy, but for the moment, she gave him a small smile to help him with his charade.

“It’s okay Carmichael, maybe I’m just not meant for a relationship.” His voice sounded almost sad at the tone and she bowed her head.

“I don’t think that’s true, Marcus.”

“Yeah, well the universe is working hard to tell me that I’m meant to be single. I should be listening instead of fighting it.”  He sighed and turned away, walking out of the room before anyone could comment on the large frown that had formed on his face.  She looked after him, a defeated look in her eyes.  No one loved as hard and as loyal as him, he deserved the world. She knew that the right person for him was out there, but she couldn’t understand why Pike hadn’t crossed paths with his soulmate yet.  

She turned back to the board, picking up the marker to begin labeling the photos they had posted.  While she wrote, she silently prayed to the universe that her partner’s heart found its home sooner rather than later.

-*-

Pike looked at himself in the mirror, droplets of water still on his skin and the strands of hair framing his face were damp.  Splashing water on his face helped cool down his skin, but Carmichael’s words of sympathy had stung, even if she meant well, and he had to leave the room before he got upset even more.  As he leaned against the sink, he bowed his head and took a few deep breaths. The small moment of zen from earlier in the day had faded and the headache had returned.

It was known that the agent wore his heart on his sleeve, that he was loyal and generous to a fault.  Most of his colleagues loved him for it and it inspired loyalty from those who worked under him.  But none of that seemed to translate into anything romantically successful.  At this point, he was certain that he was a running joke throughout D.C. and that women agreed to a date to see how long he’d wait at his favorite diner for someone to show up.

Last night, Lindsey comped his dinner because she just couldn’t take the defeated slump to the man’s shoulders one more time.  She even went home and hugged her wife, hoping a little of her joviality would seep into her bones.  If Pike knew that, he would have bitterly laughed at the idea that he can help other people love harder, he just couldn’t get people to love him back.

After letting the dark thoughts swirl through his brain for a little longer, he stood up straight and glanced into the mirror.  He wiped his face one more time and straightened his tie. Without looking back at his reflection, Marcus Pike vowed to himself that he wasn’t going to let anyone in anymore. He was here to catch art thieves and that’s what he was going to do.

He just prayed the yearning in his heart heard the declaration, too.

---***---

Rosemary huffed as she staggered up the walkway to the front door of the museum with the heavy box in her arms.  She cursed herself for thinking that she could carry such an awkward and heavy load by herself, but she was a stubborn mule and was determined to get it all done in one trip.  She sighed when she reached the top of the short staircase.

She reached out and kicked the frame of the door into the building knowing that their long-time volunteer, Bob, was at the front desk.  There was something about him that grated against Rosemary and if truth be told, he was a bad volunteer, but he was the only reliable one and so she had to put up with him and his nonsense.

She realized with a start that she’d been standing there for several minutes, and no one had come to the door.  She peeped through the glass and saw Bob sitting there, looking her way. Grimacing as she shifted the box, she kicked the door again, harder this time.

And he still didn’t move.

With a low growl, Rosemary shifted around and pressed her butt against the handicap button on the wall and with a sigh of relief, she walked through the now open door.  While the June day wasn’t particularly hot, the sun was still warm and the physical activity overheated her.  The cool air of the lobby felt like kisses of heaven on her skin and she slightly closed her eyes at the sensation.  When she opened them, she looked directly at the man in front of her.

“Bob, did you see me kicking the door?”

“Yep.”

“So why didn’t you come open it for me, you clearly saw my hands were full.”

“Kicking is rude.”  The man’s rheumy eyes stared at her and it took two deep breaths to ensure Rosemary wasn’t going to start screaming.  She gave him a tightened smile instead and she walked over to the elevator. “Rosemary, the elevator is for handicap people, you’re not handicapped.”

“Bob, the elevator is for everyone.  Goodbye!”  She entered the small space and leaned against the wall.  We need him, we need him, we need him, she chanted to herself, nothing convincing her that it was true.  The ride to the third floor was a short one, but the heavy box made it seem longer.  When the doors opened, she took a left down to the staff offices and her workspace.

She did her best to carefully set the box down on the bench, but she grimaced as she heard rattling inside.  When it didn’t sound like anything broke, she heaved a sigh of relief. She turned her head as she heard footsteps from the hallway and within moments, Helen enter the room.

“How did it go?”  She had a small smile on her face, coming closer to the work bench

“Not bad, I took one big box of stuff – good stuff, too.”  The curator grinned and Helen grinned back, curiosity all over her face.

“Nothing ugly?”

“God no.  As my grams liked to say, ‘God don’t like ugly.’”  She lifted the lid off the box and suddenly Rosemary screamed, scaring Helen and causing her to scream, too.  The latter jumped back towards the door, unsure of what was happening.  The sounds of the two women yelling echoed in the room until the scream Rosemary let out evolved into a laugh, tinged with adrenaline. “FUCKING ROBERT!”

“WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?”  Helen was now on edge and creeping back closer to the work bench, still wary. Rosemary reached into the box and lifted out the stuff monkey she passed over earlier.  Helen recoiled at the sight.

“I thought you said you didn’t bring back anything ugly!”

“I didn’t!  He must have put it in here after I told him it was worthy of the dumpster.”  The laughter continued as she looked at the stuffed animal.  Finally, she sighed and set the monkey down on the bench.

“You’re not putting it in the collections are you?”  The director still looked at the item with wariness.  It was truly ugly with its almost realistic eyes. She shuttered before looking away.

“No, but I’m going to keep it, though.  He’d probably make a better watch dog than Banana.”  Looking around, Rosemary turned to her boss.  “Speaking of which, where is that dog of mine?”

“He’s in your office, conked out on the couch and snoring away.”

“See?!  I need the monkey now.  My own dog, of whom I am his whole world, didn’t even come hither at my screams.  I am abandoned and unloved.”  Rosemary ended her dramatic comment on a sigh, her hand against her forehead.  The two women began to laugh again.

“By the way, please for the love of all that is holy, find someone to replace Bob at the front desk.  He watched me kick the door to get in and refused to get up.”

“Did he say why?”

“Yeah, ‘kicking is rude.’”  Rosemary mimicked the old man’s gravelly voice and rolled her eyes. Helen patted her shoulder and said she’d chat with Bob about it, but the curator didn’t have much faith in the forth-coming conversation.  The director left the room and Rosemary dove back into the box to pull out the rest of her treasures.

---***---

“Here is the paperwork on the history of The Cornucopia. Please promise me that you’ll list this as a restricted item.”  Robert sat down, a file folder in his hand.  “I know better than to make outrageous demands, but I want it in the paperwork that this item cannot be loaned out, it cannot be displayed, and it is to remain the collections for the rest of the museum’s existence.  I don’t even want it announced that you have the piece.”

He took a breath and Rosemary’s eyebrows furrowed.  He hadn’t been kidding when he said he had restrictions on the item.  He continued.

“The piece is valuable; I don’t want the museum becoming a target for it. I’m giving it to you because I know you’ll protect it.”  Rosemary nodded as she thumbed through the file, skimming the history of the sculpture. She looked up at him.

“Let me write up the deeds for you and we’ll note everything you want me to list in terms of restrictions.”  She got up and went to her computer set up on the table.  For the next hour, she sat asking Robert questions and filling out the forms, using the printer to create physical copies. After she was done, she sat back.

“We’ll take good care of it.  I promise.”

---***---

The next day, Rosemary sat at her desk, imputing the new collection pieces into PastPerfect, transcribing notes she had scribbled in her binder.   Most of the pieces she had taken were worth it; besides the map, she took a few pieces of pottery from a celebrated local artist, a couple of prints that dated back to the Fort’s early years, seven quilts, and several history books.  And of course, The Cornucopia.

She pulled the file out for the sculpture and sat back in her chair. After opening the folder, she began to read the files she had skimmed earlier.  The more she read the appraiser’s history more her eyebrows crawled up her forehead.

The Cornucopia was created for Russian Tsar Nicolas II by renown Ukrainian artists Artem Chumak.  The bronze sculpture was inlaid with rubies, sapphires, yellow diamonds, jade, pearls, and opals, most mined from around the Russian Empire.  Ukraine historically has been known as the breadbasket of Russia and the piece was commissioned by the Ukrainian government as a gift to Nicolas upon his marriage to Princess Alexandra of Hess.  It’s value at the time of creation was $250,000 USD.

It is known that Dowager Empress Maria took the piece, along with several other valuable items after the fall of the Empire and she sold it to the Grand Duke of Luxembourg in 1920, who in turn loaned it to the country’s National Museum of History and Art the following year. The museum returned it to the family during World War II to protect it from the advancing German army.  It was again loaned to the museum for another twenty years before the family chose to cease ownership.

The piece was then sold via Sotheby’s Auction House in 1965 to a private collector in the U.S. and has remained in private ownership since then.  Because of its history and the materials used, the value of The Cornucopia is approximately $750,000 for insurance purposes, but on the auction block, could fetch upwards to . . .

“Three million dollars?!”  Rosemary shrieked, her feet dropping to the floor as she sat up.  She looked at the sculpture sitting on her worktable and her face broke out in a grin.  Oh, ho ho ho, she really got the leg up on Fred Breyers this time.  This was the best gift that Robert could have ever given her.

[ylvisforalltid]

My recap/review of På Holmen - Episode 2

I am a bit late with this one but once again, I invite everyone to discuss the second episode with me, either here, or on facebook in Ylvis- a group.

Here’s my chronological recap/review of the second episode of ‘Ylvis På Holmen med Calle og Magnus’

Episode 2

Do I have to believe Bård that he is drinking white wine when we know that they tried to sell us Pepsi Maxx as red wine on the boat intro?

 Dad jokester moves when talking about the fighter

Gotta love a fake showbiz smile, he does it so well

The intro really does give me a summer feeling; and also the idea of these four guys being part of a bad reality-show-like sitcom

I love the enthusiam with which especially Vegard and Bård sing the Holmen song

Calle being put on the spot with impro songs is fun to watch since one never knows how good or bad he is at it at that exact moment. The national anthem impro is a surprise I expected rather from Vegard than Bård; shows how much they share a brain after all

And genius to send Magnus and Calle really away directly at the beginning. I would imagine that Vegard is used to a lot of things when it comes to working with Bård, but that he really sends them away and the guys not knowing why, must have thrown everyone out of their game for a second.

Bård’s intro about Vegard is done so hilariously serious apart from the ‚charming seniors‘ joke which is very likely true as well though

And Bård will never let him live for singing in that Spirit movie

Confused Vegard is always cute

This whole beginning of the interview is taking a piss at all interviews where people ask them about their brotherly relationship.

I repeat: Confused Vegard is always cute

The irony of Bård knowing his brother so well that he knows how to get him with a comical bit that is all about him

Good for Vegard that Norway thinks he is funny but my favourite adjective on the board had to be „treffsikker“. I still laugh at the promo clip where he has to throw at the cans

The statistics were fascinating; but the concept of Vegard without Bård does sound weirder to me than Bård without Vegard. We saw them individually as guests on Brille before but I think together they’re still at their best

Vegard being proud of the fact that more men want to have sex with him than women, reminded me of a certain Senkveld interview moment.

The whole show seemingly being about Vegard is such a great joke in itself and actually shows whose names still pull in viewers and are the main title of the show

The grocery shopping bit was so fun to watch. Not only because of Vegard cluelessly wandering around the shop but also very much because of his brother finding great delight in his big brother’s struggles. The brothers challenging each other is often the greatest thing to watch. Sometimes more than a task itself.

The fact that Vegard had strapped a gopro camera to his chest but none of that footage was used, shows they know what we want to see. Not only the task itself but the struggle and the reaction of his brother towards the struggle

Vegard always in explaining mode and trying to identify what he is holding in his hands, trying but not always succeeding

Bård’s joke challenge must have been gruesome for the three, maybe worst for Vegard and Calle who are probably more used to not only write but already brainstorm as a team. But Magnus did have a point with his oven remark. Magnus seemed also the most relaxed at taking this task which I didn’t expect. He was actually entertaining a non-present audience while the other two looked and acted more panicky.

There’s still the wax seal stamp on Vegard’s envelope which tells us his envelope got closed last

The brick background to imitate an open mic night pub setting is a nice touch

Vegard’s joke of course had a nerd factor to it. Did I find it funny? No.

Greven av grønt reminds me of ‘Oppgave med straff’ from o-fag times

It’s fun that the questions actually teach the audience some info

Bård being struck to the ground and calling for Mama was kinda sweet, in a very painful way

Knowing how much Vegard got affected by that kick and the whole aftermath of it makes it harder to watch, despite Bård’s glee

Teasing Magnus that he might be punished for winning that game was hilarious to watch.

If anything showed that they might have worked long with Magnus but that the other three are longer friends, then it was this bit.

Bård giving etymology for the word ‘hematoma’ gave me o-fag ‘ibux’ flashbacks

Emil Meek actually answering Magnus’ impro question wasn’t the plan but Bård being a seasoned host, knew how to not only change to the original plan but how to do it elegantly

As a fan it disturbed me that Emil Meek had to put on Bård’s costume to sing Vegard’s part

Side note: I am fascinated by the lighting changes throughout the show

The dentasticks in the glasses were a nice touch when serving the meal

I still don’t understand how they edit that Garden segment.

I loved that some got very into the actual design part of the recreation of the coat of arms and putting aside the fact that it’s made out of feces

I agree with the boys‘ anger about the golden bucket. I didn’t agree with Linda getting it and I also didn’t agree with Siri’s reasoning for it

But Bård could sometimes use a filter before speaking up, he’s relentless

Vegard taking Siri’s and Linda’s side surprised me, and more so that he sounds like he means it

Calle starting a women vs. men discussion and Vegard not wanting to get into it was another thing I didn’t see coming and I wonder how much of that got cut

Ever so often the Ylvis brothers disagree on a huge level and I have to admit it’s entertaining to watch

Vegard looking like the scottish Scrooge McDuck with that hat is adorable

And instantly followed by little shit brother Bård bonding with Aleksander over his wish that Vegard will lose every game

Bård losing the golf game must have hurt but I guess if he has to give the win to somebody, I would think he's glad that it’s Calle

At the end Bård forcing an impro song on Vegard and Vegard panicking and making it sound like an angry fake italian version of the Las Ketchup song. I know he can do better than that.

But all in all a very good second episode after a mixed start with the first episode.

[bellemorte180]

The Taylor Swift/folklore album coming of age story breakdown for Caroline that no one asked for but I’m giving anyway.

Okay, so I’m OBESSESSED with Taylor Swift’s new album. I do not think I’ve listened to anything else since it came out. It feels like a giant coming of age story for Caroline and how it leads her to Klaus; and their forever.

So, my brain developed an entire plot bunny based around the songs. I’m going to share it with you knowing I’ll never write it (meaning its free game for anyone who wants this idea). Now, I’m taking the songs out of order on the album.

Starts after season 4 of TVD- except Klaus never left for NOLA and no magic baby (just would not work for what I have planned). Also, Liz was killed by Silas.

The story starts the summer after their senior year of high school.

So let's get started......

seven

It begins here. This part will show where Caroline is right now. Stefan is gone (Silas really is dead, and Stefan is soul searching). Damon and Elena are shaking up, which is SUPER hard for Caroline to see. Tyler is off with a werewolf pack again, trying to lick his wounds from his other back being slaughtered. Bonnie is dead-which everyone knows about.

Caroline is alone and struggling with mourning Bonnie and her mother, Tyler once again leaving, Matts off with Rebekah and Elena being with Damon.

This part of the story would be looking back to her childhood and wondering if college is what she wants. Caroline is questioning everything and what eternity has in store for her.

mirrorball

Caroline goes out to a club or bar just outside of town. She runs into Klaus and they have a night where they dance. They have a good time and Caroline is reminded about the good side of Klaus. He shows her parts of herself that she buried deep down inside. They laugh and for a moment, the grief, pain and loneliness melts away. He shows her the good parts of vampirism that she denied herself.

It’s the beginning of the end in many ways.

august

Their affair begins here. They have the summer of their lives. No one pays any attention to what Caroline is doing because everyone is gone except Elena; but she is so focused on Damon. Klaus and Caroline find a moment of peace together, but Caroline is counting down to it ending. Summer is coming to an end and Tyler called her. She is to start college soon but still so unsure what to do. In the end, the guilt of her feelings for Klaus catch up to her and she ends it.

Elena and Caroline go to college, rooming together; but Caroline cannot get Klaus out of her mind.

hoax

Klaus is fighting for Caroline to give him a real chance. Caroline keeps holding off, but she knows she wants him; but is terrified of what Elena and Tyler would say. Tyler is back and wants to resume a relationship with her. She knows that Klaus loves her. She has known that for a long time. Its her feelings that she hasn’t figured out. She feels that she is twisting a knife in Elena’s and Tyler’s back: but at the same time, they constantly hurt her by leaving (Tyler) and being with Damon (Elena).

But Caroline cannot make a decision.

So, she goes to him one night and they have sex.

illicit affairs

They are sleeping together regularly but hiding it. His family, who are all are back, and her friends have no idea. She is in a relationship with Tyler but sleeping with Klaus on the side. It’s a mess and she knows that it is wrong, but she is at the point where she can’t give him up. She does little things for him and he makes her feel happy.

This goes on for months.

It doesn’t end until Tyler catches them in bed together.

mad woman

Here is where shit hits the fan. Caroline is being pulled in a thousand directions. Tyler is pissed and hurt, which Caroline knows is a legitimate reaction. Elena is playing the victim, not believing that Caroline would sleep with Klaus. Klaus wants her to full commit to him. Caroline feels that she is at war with everyone.

She goes on the defensive and serves some just truths here. She tells Elena exactly how it feels to watch her with Damon. She tells Tyler how hurt she feels because she was always put second best with him. She points fingers and it makes pretty much everything worse.

She even gets into an argument with Klaus; who cannot fathom what she is feeling right now.

epiphany

It’s Matt who calms her down. He tells her that, yes, he is disappointed that she slept with Klaus but not because he is “Klaus” but because she didn’t end things with Tyler first. He points out why Elena would be hurt by Caroline being with Klaus, because he killed her and Jenna. Klaus is Elena’s monster, but also understands that Damon is Caroline’s. It was a slap in the face but something Caroline needed to hear.

She realizes here that she needs to sort out her life. That she is in the rut that is suffocating her in a way that she cannot handle. She has an epiphany and realizes that she is not meant for that small town anymore; and that she needs out.

That she needs to figure out what she wants out of life and not do everything that is expected of her.

The first thing she does is drop out of university.

The second was to sell her house.

my tears ricochet

This is Tyler’s goodbye. He is demonizing her to high heaven for sleeping with the man who killed 12 of his friends and his mother. He is making her out to be a villain and Caroline cannot blame him. The conversation is bad. The fight and they both say a bunch of hurtful things to each other. Caroline knows she messed up and is sorry for it; but she refuses to wish it never happened. It taught her so much of herself that she cannot apologize for it.

She promised Tyler that she did love him but it just wasn’t enough. They end things on VERY bad terms.

Caroline understands that her relationship with Tyler was never going to be the same.

betty

Next is Elena. This goodbye goes better. It is heartfelt and sad. Matt gave Elena the same talk he did Caroline. Caroline tells Elena that the worse thing she had ever done was betraying her friend with Klaus but like she said with Tyler, she does not regret it.

Elena is not ready to forgive Caroline; but neither is Caroline ready to forgive Elena for Damon.

They part ways with broken hearts but a mutual understanding that maybe one day they could be friends again.

exile

This is Klaus’s goodbye. She loves him and tells him so. She just isn’t ready to be his forever yet. They fight and they cry. They have sex but it is that broken goodbye sex that ends in empty feelings and heart ache.

She grabs the things that she had left behind at his place. She does not know what is going to happen from here but she knows that she has so many things to figure out for herself.

Klaus lets her go with a promise of forever when she is ready; even though he is bitter about it.

Caroline leaves Mystic Falls, exiling herself to the unknown.

this is me trying

The first few months are hard. She roams around the US for a good while, driving from state to state. She learns more about being a vampire on her own and just lives. She starts writing in a journal but its more of a long love letter to Klaus. It’s the stories of where she has been where she is going.  This is the most painful time for Caroline because she feels absolutely alone.

Then she runs into Stefan. They have a heart to heart about Damon, Elena, Klaus and Tyler. It really puts everything into perspective for Caroline. She learns that Klaus left Mystic Falls and moved to NOLA with his family. She continues to write in that journal and slowly is coming to terms with everything she had felt.

She slowly begins to heal.

cardigan

This is where Caroline really comes to terms with Klaus and how he made her feel. He made her feel strong and loved. Everyone called her a fool for falling in love with him, but she knew him. She knew a side to him that no one else did. She felt passion, love and what it meant to be wanted.

She looks at all the things she had taken with her when she fled. She remembers the moments during that summer together that she would cherish. She no longer looks back on Mystic Falls as a time of pain and regret. She no longer feels the stab of pain thinking on Tyler and Elena.

She starts to feel happiness again.

the last great American dynasty

She ends up in Rhode Island and finds a house for sale. It has this rich story behind it about a woman who loved a man so much it killed him. Turns out the woman was Rebekah, as in Klaus’s sister and a tragic tale of one of her many lost loves. Caroline takes this as a sign that she is meant to have this old house. She buys it (having the money from the house she sold in Mystic Falls).

The house is in disrepair and she fixes it up. She thinks back on the time that she had an affair with Klaus and how much she misses him.

When the house is completed, she pulls out that old journal and reads. She begins to plan for a future, knowing that Klaus would be apart of it. 

the 1

Caroline realizes that Klaus is the one. She loves him in an epic love she always dreamed about. She thinks on him fondly and the memories they shared. She learns snippets from Stefan about what Klaus is up to. He ran into him while passing through NOLA. She learns about the bartender Cami and that Klaus had a weird infatuation with her. Its not love, Stefan assures her but the thought that he moved on still stings.

On a whim, wondering if he would respond; Caroline sends him the journal filled with love letters; a specific one at the end saying that she is ready for forever.

Then she waits.

peace

Klaus shows up at the house in Rhode Island. They know that its not going to be perfect. They have a massive heart to heart about what they want and what it means. Klaus vows that Cami was nothing more than a distraction while Caroline promises that she is ready to take that leap.

She does not care what anyone things anymore.

She lets Elena fall in love with Damon; not caring if Elena is betrayed by her falling in love with Klaus.

She lets Tyler run wild with his wolves; not caring if he hates her now for falling in love with Klaus.

Klaus offers her forever and she gladly takes his hand. She never sells that house and they come back to it, making it a home base for them from time to time. 

He takes her across the globe; Paris, Rome and Tokyo...and so much more. 

Caroline hands over her heart to him....and finds peace in that.

invisible string  

Fast forward 100 years. Klaus and Caroline are still together. They have connected in a way that Caroline never felt in previous relationships. They look back on their life together; reciting how it began and how it has come so far.

They love, laugh and enjoy life the best they can; making plans for the next 100 years.

[norhimorovine]

The Asking Voice

Today, Norhi sat in the brewing shed that stood in the berry grove. She was quietly checking the bottles of the current season’s mead, shaking and measuring and taking notes. Now, typically, she did not allow her younger siblings into this shed, because of the delicacy of some of the jars. They were rambunctious kits still. But today, she heard them fidgeting outside the open door, whispering to each other.

She put a jar down and listened intently, while making her notes. It seemed it was Dischaus who was doing most of the hissing. “Just go ask her!”

Norhi barely heard Lhissa’s response, voiced in an unusually timid tone. “But she’s busy. And… and… we’re not allowed in there.”

Dis’s snort was easily audible. “Don’t have to go in. Just stand in the door. Sis always makes time for us.”

Norhi wasn’t sure if Lhis responded, when Dis spoke again. “Just let me ask her then!”

Norhi closed up her book of notes and set it aside on it’s shelf, turning to step outside. She grinned at the twins, watching Lhissa flail and hide behind Dis. Norhi side and waved at them to follow her. She grabbed a few baskets from beside the shed and gave them each one. She led them further into the berry grove and towards a bush of late summer rolanberries. She started picking berries and asked, “Have you ever heard the tale of The Asking Voice?”

Dis shook his head. “No?”

Lhis also shook hers. “We haven’t.”

Norhi nodded. “I think you’ll like this one.”

One cold, snowy morning, towards the end of an ancient winter, a mountain tribe huntress had come of age. Her mother was proud of her. Her sisters rejoiced for her. And her matriarch had great expectations of her. For you see, it had been a century since the last time the two moons eclipsed one another, atop the sacred mountain peak. And their tribe had a very special rite for that very rare moment.

In this rite, the youngest huntress of age is expected to journey through the ever frozen snows, to the tip of the sacred mountain. And it is there, that she is expected to give an offering of living blood, to the two moons. And the living blood had to come from something captured by the huntress herself.

The young huntress was so very nervous about this rite. Receiving the blessings of the two moons was very important for their tribe. It would promise them another century of peace and health, good hunting and safe hearths. And it would prove her to be as capable a huntress as her mother, aunts, and sisters.

For moons preceding the eclipse, she went out into their hunting range, setting traps and working diligently. She practiced and learned, capturing animals alive and setting them free. With each one, she whispered to it, “I apologize for this harm. But I must learn. I must earn the moons’ favor for my tribe. Please forgive me.”

Her sisters thought it odd, that she showed such compassion to the animals that she released. They scoffed at each apology they overheard, telling her she was soft. She merely turned away from their scorn and said, “I apologize for this harm. But I will not disrespect their lives. I must continue to learn. Please forgive me.”

Her mother even complained when she released an elk, saying that its meat and furs could have served the tribe well. The huntress merely bowed her head before her mother. “I apologize for this harm. But I cannot over hunt the range. I still need to learn more. Please forgive me.”

Finally, a sennight before the rite, she was still trapping and releasing. The matriarch called the huntress into her tent. “My child, your anxiety will undo us all.”

The huntress bowed on her knees to her matriarch. “I apologize for this harm. But I cannot go to the peak without assuaging my conscience. I will keep learning so that I do this right. Please forgive me.”

And finally the time came. Her sisters dressed her in the warmest leathers, imbued with their tribe’s prayers. Her mother braided up her hair, singing a song that told the story of the two moons. And her matriarch came and painted her face with the ink of juniper berries, muttering blessings of safety and success over her. They all watched the huntress take up her traps and strike out on the trial.

The huntress found the signs of stags on her chosen path. She set up her trap and hid, waiting patiently. Finally the snare snapped up and captured a young buck, with a clean pair of two pronged antlers. The huntress dashed forward and grabbed the ropes, trying to calm the stag and subdue. “Please please! I apologize for this harm! My tribe depends on me and the moons will not wait! Please forgive me. Please!”

The buck pulled on the ropes and answered, “I cannot forgive you for that which you do not ask of me!”

The huntress blinked and then bowed before the stag. “Please come with me so that I might give of your living blood to the two moons, atop the sacred peak. I request this of you with the whole of my heart and soul.”

The young deer then bowed his head. “Take the ropes from me and I will come with you.”

The huntress agreed and removed the ropes. They set off together, marching up the steep switchbacks that curled around the sacred mountain. For all that it was the dark of night, the radiance of both moons lit up the mountain’s side so clearly that the pair could climb without trouble.

When they reached the top, the buck knelt down on the rock altar that had stood on the peak for time longer than the tribe remembered. The huntress took out her knife and looked up to watch the moons. When the eclipse began. She stepped forward and cut along the buck’s side, not deep enough to be more than simply painful. She took her knife and wiped the blood on the altar, before applying a poulticed bandage over the cut.

The huntress stepped back and bowed to the stag. “Thank you from the deepest reaches of my heart and soul. Your kindness will be honored by my tribe.”

Above them, the moons suddenly spoke out, “You would only honor us with a pittance of blood? Why do you not spill the life of the buck? Is he not beneath you?”

The huntress blinked up at the moons and then frowned. “Are you so bloodthirsty that only a life taken will give you satisfaction? You ask for living blood. So I bring you a stag, who comes of his own free will, and gives to you of his blood. Will not his ability to go back and speak to the other animals, of the mercy of the moons, mean more to our future, than his death? Why must my tribe use cruelty to seek your kindness? We honor your pact! Is that not enough?”

The moons stopped her before she could ask another question. “Little asking voice, enough. You pleaded for forgiveness with every creature you’ve met. You answered the stag’s wish for your direct request. And you questioned our cruelty, defending the lives and voices of those you represent here today. You are given our blessings tenfold over the century before. For you know kindness and mercy, amongst the cold severity of your mountain life. Return to your sisters, your mother, and your matriarch.”

The moons dropped a beautiful round moonstone into the huntress’s hands. And she smiled and bowed to them. She turned to start hiking home, only to be surprised to see the stag still waiting for her. He bowed his head and turned to the side. “I will carry you home. And you will be blessed among my kind. When it is time for my antlers to shed, I will bring them to you, to make a crest for you.”

The huntress smiled and slowly climbed up onto the buck’s back. “You humble me, young lord of the forest.”

The buck started down the path, only to laugh in response. “And you humble me, little huntress of the moon, little asking voice.”

Norhi smiled as she finished the story, watching her siblings. “You see, by asking questions, by asking forgiveness, and by seeking a better way, the huntress brought honor and the moons’ respect to her tribe. There is so little harm in asking questions of someone. Some questions may be painful. And there may be a better time to ask them. But the best way for someone to give you an answer, is to ask the question.”

Lhissa fidgeted in her seat and glared at her brother for a moment. She then reached to hug her sister, as she asked, “Rhirhi… I want to start going with you on your trips to the cities. I want to help sell Zuzu’s potions and your plants.”

Norhi hummed at this, surprised. “I thought you wanted to be a healer and to follow Dis into trouble.”

Lhissa blushed and looked at her twin. Dischaus was the one to fidget this time. He finally spoke up and said, “Lhis and I… we decided we don’t want to be adventurers. Wars are scary. And there’s plenty we can do here, to serve and protect. So… I’m still going to learn to be an archer. But I’m going to be a hunter! I’m going to go out with Uncle Nhie’a and with Mama. And I’m going to learn how to hunt animals for furs and meat. For us and for selling.”

Lhissa nodded. “And I’m going to learn to heal, so that I can help heal at your shop. Or heal Dis after a hunt. But… I want to sell too! I want to learn!”

Norhi mused for a moment. “Tell you what. I’ll talk to Mama and start setting things up so we can do that. But… I can’t take you on the road till you’re twelve. And only then, after you’ve shown me that you can handle the job. So, what we’ll do, is I’ll start teaching you. You can come work in the shop. Learn the potions, learn the prices, and I will teach you about the cities. And… maybe, when we’re in Kugane next moon, you can practice with me at the markets there.”

Lhissa cheered and hugged her sister again. “I’ll study hard and learn everything!”

[fifielady]

Come To Sea, Come Home, Come Adventure

Day 4 of @usukweek​ || Free Day | Nautical AU

Note/s: This fic is also inspired and based on this song. ((My aunt’s karaoke is so loud and I’m a bit sorry that this is a bit rushed as well. I hope you enjoy it though!))

The far horizon was golden in the last minutes of the day's daylight. A distinct difference to the fierce red of the morning when Alfred went out to chop wood as soon as he woke up. He had been expecting a shower of rain the whole day but not even a drop fell from the sky; even though the clouds in the east were plentiful. Alfred stalled for a while, admiring the red of the sky reflected in the calm waters of the little port town he grew up in. A gust of wind blew, shaking the hilltop trees beside him and down and over to the sails of the ships docked by the bay of the port. 

 The town's lights were burning brilliantly against the dark backdrop of the star-kissed night sky. Cheers and peals of laughter were echoing away from the heart of the port and to where Alfred stood-- at the crown of the third hill of the island. The yearly festival of the town was pulsing with life.

 The young man couldn't resist a carefree grin curving his lips. There were lots of ships resting from their adventures tonight. Big, beautiful ships from her numerous voyages with her roughed-up, handsome sailors. Not that the other people his age in their little port weren't pretty, Alfred just thinks they lack the... uh, appeal... to captivate him like how the people crossing the seas ever did. Was it their experience? Yes, that aspect probably played a part in his attraction to others. But it was mostly because he could travel along the seas with them if he ever ensnared a sailor. 

So far, Alfred ensnared no one (Except for that one time with a local bard due to a small lapse of his judgment).

 Fastening his grip on his full satchel, Alfred took a deep breath and turned around gave the last, possibly, good-bye to the cottage he called his home for the last nineteen years of his boring life. Bang! One of the windows suddenly opened, revealing his disgruntled older brother shaking his fist.

 "It's been three years, Al! And you already have a match, for how long are you going to keep this up?!" Matthew yelled, his voice reverberated down on the hill and to Alfred.

 Alfred formed a cone around his mouth with his hands. "Until I finally get on a ship and physically drag him back!" 

 Even with the distance, he saw his brother's disappointing frown. Matthew never understood him. No one in town ever did. Alfred whirled around, having enough of the daily reprimands his brother gives him every time he ventures down to the port. Don't get him wrong, he appreciates his brother's worry for him but Matthew will never understand his will to find that annoying best friend and lover of his. That guy was probably frolicking with some busty lady with rum and jewels surrounding him. Alfred clicked his tongue unconsciously, the mere thought of him made him both annoyed and more encouraged as ever.

 "Oi, Al, don't forget to pick up some thyme when you've had enough of the sailors!" Matthew bellowed for the last time before Alfred sprinted down the path of the hill. Gah! Alfred's had enough of his life in town and he'd die from crushing herbs and selling medicine for the rest of his life. An exaggeration. He hopes no one would toss him off the deck since he was an expert in herbal medicine.

 At least that would never happen if he fails to find a ship tonight. And he'd never considered stowing away, so that's off the list. Alfred knows too much what happens to a stowaway. A shiver ran up his spine as he continued to run with the salty wind. With all dangers of sea travel in his mind, he prayed again that night that he'd never meet a scoundrel. Or worse-- a pirate.

 But the chances of meeting one are slim in a nameless island port town in the outskirts of a kingdom.

  The music of the flutes and guitars was loud and lively, people in the town plaza were dancing and whooping with laughter and joy. Lights from the hanging lanterns glowed like honey under the night sky and warmed the merry townsfolk and sailors. Alfred struggled to pave a way through the dancing people and to the tavern at the end of the plaza. He mussed up his wheat hair, desperately trying not to be noticed by the celebrators lest they drag him into dancing with them. Or call for Natalia.

 Alfred scanned left and right, still in the crowd being pushed everywhere by the others and the melodies. He saw no sign of a mop of blonde hair lighter than his. He couldn't help relief from heaving a sigh out of his lips. And for a while, space loosened amidst the crowd and Alfred wriggled his way out of the bunch and into the open doors of the tavern.

 The cheers and the chattering in the tavern were less noisy than the festivities outside, though still as rowdy. Most of the ones inside were drunken sailors and sailors who were failing in seducing the barmaids. Alfred proceeded to the counter and sat on the last stool on the end, straining his ears to hear the dialogue of the men behind him. 

 A glass of grape rum propped up in front of him. "You really should stop this past-time of yours, Al," the barkeep chided him, though she said that with a wry grin on her face, "But if you make them stay a bit longer and make their pockets loose and generous, who am I to stop you?"

 He only shook his head and picked up his glass. Alfred studied the drinking, the drunks, and the miraculously sober in the tavern. Tables were full of sailors, their drinks, and pie. He sipped the given drink slowly and asked the barkeep, "Are there any captains getting shit-faced, around? With the drinks you're serving tonight, it's so much easier to try and convince them."

 "Natalia would have your head if you tried to bed one of them again."

 Alfred chuckled, "Not if she wants to go through the trouble of getting an 'adequate' husband again." Head resting on the palm of his hand, he continued, "The only other herbalist in town is my brother and he's gonna marry her cousin this summer. It'll at least take her another few years to find someone like me, you know!"

 The barkeep scoffed playfully at his words, "Nobody is as brash as you around here, Alfred Jones. But..." She had a smug look as she took out a pie from one of the ovens. Alfred raised a brow and gestured with his free hand to prompt her as he chugged down the rest of the drink. "There was some guy who almost mauled his 'first mate' because of a snide comment a few moments before you walked in."

 He almost spat out the rum in his mouth, but his eyes went comically wide. 'His first mate'?! There was a ship captain out and about instead of inspecting their ships! Alfred gulped down the drink, it burned his throat and made his blood warm. "Is he still here?!"

 She only smiled in response, her green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Alfred, be a dear and deliver this pie to that table near the sea-facing window."

 Alfred gave her a look but he still took the tray with the dessert. "You're as pretty as you are guileful, Liz." She turned to prepare another batch of drinks, her long brown hair almost slapping Alfred across his face.

 "Why, thank you."

 He huffed. So the drink wasn't free, then. Even when he entertains her customers and made them stay until morning. Alfred sauntered to the aforementioned table and placed the tray gently (You can't just put a pie down haphazardly, that's asking for a fight!). He looked up to see a raven-haired man, brunnet, an anxious blond man. The blond guy had a swollen cheek on his exasperated face. 

 "Uhh, you're the ones who ordered this pie, right?"

 The three men stayed silent. They had such gloomy expressions it made Alfred feel bad doing his nightly conquests. But his self-righteous quest like searching for his lover was a great deal heavier than consoling three men who ordered a pie. Alfred should probably not try anything on these three; they really looked like they killed a person's hopes and dreams and lived to bear it. Just as he was about to excuse himself from such a depressed trio, the blond guy suddenly slammed his fist on the table.

 "H-hey, are you--"

 The guy's swollen face whirled around and came close to his; Alfred took a step back. "I'm tired of it! I'm tired of him being such a young master! Ah, I want him to drown in his rum and! And...!" The strange man bawled and caressed the edges of the pie, "Even so...for a captain, he's so pitiful...! You agree, right?"

 "What are--"

 "Here!" The injured blond shoved the pie to him, "You bring it to the captain in the barn. I can't handle him right now!" Then he continued sobbing on the table, softly punching it with his fist. Alfred could only gape at the other two men that refused to look at him and instead stared outside the window with deadpan expressions. 

 Just what did he get into?

 Alfred sighed and went out with a freshly-baked pie in his hands to the little barn on the other side of the tavern. The festivities in the plaza were still going on but the tavern's barn was always empty and dark. And cold. But if Alfred were to personally deliver this to the injured man's captain, he could hitch a ride to the next step of finding his lover. Maybe. If the captain wasn't a blacked-out drunk already and making the cow and chickens his roommates. Ah, the animals were transferred to a new barn so maybe not.

 Clink! Clonk! The rhythmic sound of metal against the stoned pathways of the town plaza resounded loudly even with the loud voices in the festival in the center. Oh, no. NO! Alfred felt the warmth of the rum leave his body and early winter settled in his bone. The sound of armored boots stepping on the stone can only mean one and only one thing-- Natalia is here!

 To say Alfred wasn't scared shitless of his fiancee was a big, fat lie. She was so stubborn in making him her husband because he was the only herbalist who wasn't married yet. Alfred was equally as stubborn as to chase after someone who hasn't even stepped on their home island for three years. So, of course, it was a problem for both of them!

 He hurried his steps to the barn, taking extra precaution with the pie, and locked the doors shut as soon as he entered it. Cold sweat ran down from his neck and down his spine. If Natalia caught him flirting in Elizabeta's tavern again, she'd torture him rather than killing him to end his misery. 

 The clanging metal slowly went away. Alfred slumped his body against the wooden doors, sliding down and sitting on the hay-infested floor of the barn. He sighed, the beating of his heart was loud in his ears. Alfred stared into the semi-darkness inside the barn. Slivers of light went through the spaces between the wooden walls. The outside noise was muted and far away. 

 Yeah, he can still do this. If his lover with his smaller frame craved for adventure, then Alfred could do the same. All in the name of love...

 Alfred stared at the pie in his hands. Minced pie, it was a favorite of--

 "Nggh..." Someone groaned in the darkness. Right. Alfred still had to give the pie to the trio's captain.

 He stood up and walked over to the direction of the sound. The young man was blindly reaching out in the darkness using his other hand. He spotted a hunched figure, a large but faint stripe of yellow light on the man. He finally got close and shook the man's shoulder. The man groaned, still face-first as he lay on the pile on hay. Oof, that's gonna itch in the morning. Alfred shook the captain more roughly this time. He heard a faint 'Wasssit' from the man but the guy still hadn't moved an inch. Alfred resisted pulling on the captain's tied back messy, yellow hair. "Hey, man, you gotta get up if you want to eat."

 "... Wha.. ha?" The captain finally, at a slow pace, lifted his face to face the annoyed expression on Alfred. Bleary emeralds so familiar ogled him, with drool on the edge on the man's mouth. That... that face! Alfred stared in shock as the brows of the man drew together. Those eyebrows! He'd never forget someone with eyebrows like that! And the only one who had eyebrows like that was his lover with the name of--

 "Arthur?!"

 Arthur sobered up instantly, recognition and awe and shock all over his half-drunk face. "What in the-- Alfred! What are you doing here?"

 "I should be asking you that! What're you doing here of all places?" Alfred shook his head, his grip tightened on the pie, "Nevermind that, why didn't you come to see me first?!" Questions, he had so many questions. Was this why Liz had that smile on her when he came in? Because this guy was back?! Alfred was so going to kill him.

 "Wait--Wait! Let me-- let me explain!"

 "You better explain! What were you thinking, leaving this island without me and coming back some three years later?"

 Alfred's heart was beating with happiness and curiosity and a faint trace of hurt in the back of his heart. Arthur was here! After three years-- Wait, he shouldn't get ahead of himself. His lover left him for three years! Three! Were they still even lovers? Alfred placed the pie on the ground and latched his hands on the shoulders of the other man. Arthur had a dumb look on his face, the same one he had when every time he woke up from a nap years ago. Alfred felt his chest tighten from just this...

 "Arthur. You are going to tell me everything."

 And his found lover did. In his drunk and sleep-addled voice that Alfred missed. In the semi-darkness of the barn, the old lovers spoke and ate mince pie throughout the night. The celebration and its noise outside never stopped them from exchanging words of love and embraces full of affection.

 "I thought you said you'd never come back." Alfred and Arthur were on their sides facing each other on the pile of hay. It was a bit itchy but Alfred found it comfortable with Arthur in his arms.

 "Well, I'm here now." Arthur looked at him in the eyes, the truth in his new never disappearing for even a moment. "But I'm not coming back ever again."

 "...Even for me?" His grip around his lover's waist tensing, "Arthur, why did you come back to this backwater island?"

 Arthur's green eyes softened, misting in the edges. "I came back for you. You were always in my mind and every time I think of you and your smile, it makes my heartache. You were so far away. But not any more so..." he took Alfred's hands in his, " So come with me, Alfred. Let's look for adventure. Together."

 The only thing in Alfred's mind was how he loved Arthur so much and the warmth of Arthur's hand on his. He'd never let that hand go again.

 "Together?"

 "Yes."

 Alfred already had his satchel ready for the last three years.

    Extra:

 "This ship looks like she's been through too many fights... too many scars on the floorboard."

 "Er, yes..."

 "Wait a minute, why does this ship have the kingdom's insignia all scratched up? Merchant ships have to have clear insignias!"

 "Well, uh--"

 "Arthur, is there something you're not telling me?"

 "..."

  "This is a pirate ship, isn't it? Really, Art?"