#sorry to all my music followers. good omens be upon ye

[mackmp3]

Out of the ineffable husbands,which one is your fave?. Aziraphale or crowley?. Also what are your headcanons on their relationship?.

:0 a good omens ask!!! hehe thank you :)

ough how could i choose?? i love them both <33 but i'm going to have to say crowley is my favourite ahhhh i just love himmmmmmm <3. i think he's my favourite because the way he shows his love for aziraphale is just so sweet, and like me he's a massive dork who is trying to be cool :)

my hcs for them - relationship-wise i think they are alloace, it just makes the most sense to me. once they (eventually) have a Talk About Feelings and realise they're both deeply in love with each other, they'll definitely be romantic and sensual and queer platonic and everything, but i just... don't see them actually *sleeping together* no. sleeping together yes 100% but *sleeping together* no. i think they would both make the effort if they wanted to but i don't think they'd want to and i have literally no justification why i think this but yeah <3

crowley at least is demi in my mind, aziraphale i can imagine occasionally having a bit of a pash on someone else but only for like. until he remembers crowley is there lol. asjnasjnasnja they love each other so muchhhhhhhh

i think they *almost* kissed in 1941. almost. like so close they wondered afterwards if maybe they did. or it was the most gentle barest brush of a kiss and afterwards they wondered if maybe they didn't. (which gives me a fic ideaaaaa ooughhhhhhhh).

i also think they have been meeting very regularly since rome - every few years at first, then every few months, until pre-s2 when they're practically living together. only seeing each other in the flashbacks we're shown just doesn't make sense. even just in 1601 when crowley says 'we've done it before, dozens of times now' about the arrangement, and yeah it has been 900 years since wessex, but i can imagine aziraphale took A Lot of convincing to get to the arrangement in the first place, plus meeting up just for lunch and hanging out & other stuff. i don't think crowley was dragged to hell for 30 years after 1827 either. 'last month crowley and i etc' 'and that was the last of him i was to see of crowley for quite some time *past tense, he's seen crowley since, that makes it like. just under two months max*' like. idk how exactly people think they got to this stage in their relationship based on a handful of meetings in the last 300 years but ok all hcs are valid :)

and, i think aziraphale is far more aware of his feelings than crowley is, even though he hides in under layers of denial & repression. he knows *exactly* the depth of love he feels for crowley and would do anything to be able to show it, but is still scared that it's wrong and that he *shouldn't* feel that way - but he knows he does. crowley is more along the lines of, he feels the feelings but doesn't stop to examine them as much. like he does examine his feelings, but in his view how aziraphale is feeling is more important than how he, crowley, feels, so he doesn't ponder it as much. ahhhhhhhhhasjanksn they just need to sit down and talk to each other. and then hug. and then properly move in together lol <3

[miss-edith-cushing]

For the Good Omens ask game: 1, 9, 15, 24! :)

Aaaaaahhhhh, thank you so much for asking these questions!! Sorry for responding so late to them, I swear I enjoy them very much!

1. when did you first watch/discover good omens, and how did you find out about it?

I saw the trailer for it somewhere around November 2018 and thought 'Huh, this seems unique, and it has David Tennant in it, I might check that out'. And then I've forgotten about it completely. Then after the premiere of season 1 my dashboard was completely full of it, like, I can't remember how many people I've followed back then, but 90% of them were posting and reblogging posts about it. So I remembered that I wanted to watch it anyway, did it in the course of one week and the rest is history.

9. Have you seen any other work by david tennant and/or michael sheen?

Yes, yes, yes! I was aware of DT as a Tumblr's sexyman, but I first saw him in Jessica Jones, which I also watched because of the posts on my dash, and I became a little obsessed with him for a while. I've seen Casanova (if you guys haven't seen it, do it, it's so freaking good), You, Me and Him, Broadchurch, Bad Samaritan, Des and Inside Man. In my opinion he has a very uneven career when it comes to the quality of the projects he's involved in, which is surprising, but not uncommon (Peter O'Toole is the best example of it). But he always gives his 1000000% and I can't remember not enjoying seeing him performing.

I saw quite a few films with Michael Sheen and liked him before Good Omens, but never to the point of being a fan. I first saw him in The Queen or in Frost/Nixon, then in Midnight in Paris and Nocturnal Animals. Oh, and in the Twilight Saga obviously! Then after Good Omens I've watched Underworld, Wilde, Far From the Madding Crowd, and Prodigal Son. I'm planning to get back to watching Masters of Sex, he's so good in it. He's an acting chameleon and I don't that before Good Omens the fact that he's all those characters ever clicked in my head

Oh, and Staged! Obviously!

15. Do you have any good omens playlists?

I'm a dinosaur and I don't use Spotify or Youtube to listen to my music; there was one Good Omens related playlist that @racketghost created for @mochacoffee fic Call Me Your Angel (that was the name of the playlist too), but it's not on Spotify anymore. I've recreated it on my iPod, so I can't share it anymore, but I'll try to bully Racko to make it again.

24. what's a theory for season 3 that you NEED to be included?

My theory (which for me isn't even a theory, it's just so obvious I can't imagine it not being included in season 3) is that Metatron will try to erase Crowley from the Book of Life and that's what will make Aziraphale rebel against Heaven again; the same can happen to Aziraphale or to them both.

I would also LOVE to know what's up with Crowley not remembering some of the other angels and demons and why does he have passwords for Heaven's files (personally I would hate it if he turned out to be Raphael or was some another Heaven's VIP, I'm just curious about it).

EDIT: I just have stumbled upon gifs from Fright Night and yes, I've seen it too. How could I forget it? I have very good reasons to remember this film fondly, very, very good reasons.

[themeowsticvigilante]

Orpheum's Tales: Music of the Night

[featuring the Shaymin crew from @shaymincafe ]

A morning breeze sweeps along the quiet forest of Floarama Town, Orpehum's usual abode when he is alone by himself. After all, the town was special to him, a second home. This town is where his constellation appears first every night.

The bard plucked a few strings from his lute, a morning routine he so regularly performed. A good note would be a blessed day but a bad one would be a tragedy … an omen even. Fortunately, the Victini deity would smile upon him as the lute produced a perfect note.

He sighed a breath of fresh air, relief overcoming him as the day would proceed as normal, for him at the least. Donning his trusty bard hat, off he went to meet someone, another Shaymin as he was taking flight towards the rendezvous.

The gentle breeze made the journey quite refreshing, after all … no one would knowingly dwell into turbulent weather, especially a deity like him. As he took flight, he was in the form of a wisp, vibrant green with wings similar to a Yanma for he wouldn't just reveal himself to mortals just like that.

Moments passed before he could finally see the rendezvous from afar, vaguely sensing someone waving towards him. Realizing it was a familiar face, he immediately went in and landed in front of her, giving her a bow as soon as he returned to his Shaymin form.

"Orpheum! Glad you could make it!" A Shaymin in a vibrant pink hue gleefully greeted the bard with a smile.

"Good morning, Rosemary. I too am glad to be here." He nodded to himself, his face a vibrant glee, and looking around the place. "So this is your ... what was the word … Cafè? Sorry, I have been too accustomed to the word tavern."

"Yes, it is! Shaymin Cafè~ not the most subtle name we can think of but it does attract quite the crowd." She giggles and motions for him to follow her. "Come! Let's introduce you to the others"

"Right now, you say?" He looked a bit nervous, his audience usually consisted of only one but to a few 'mon of his kind? He isn't used to that kind of stage but he internally reigned in his thoughts and smiled. "Sure! I am excited."

~~~

The doors to the cafè opened, immediately getting the attention of everyone inside. Rosemary was the one to enter with Orpheum following close behind, his lute perched on his back as an archer would their quiver. There was silence as the rest of the Shaymin staff immediately averted their attention towards Orpheum.

"Everyone, meet Orpheum! Better give him a warm welcome because he is a special Shaymin~" Rosemary broke the silence as she winked at them and gave him an introductory pat on the back.

"Greetings! Greetings!" He gave them a bow and a huge grin trying not to break the otherwise momentum that Rosemary had set. "Orpheum the Blossoming Bard, at your service!"

One of the Shaymin finally took interest, narrowing her eyes as she approached Orpheum. She circled around the bard as if to do a thorough inspection. "A bard, aye? … sing a song for us why don't cha." Shiso, the purple one, commanded as she crossed her arms and looked at him intently.

"A song? Yes yes of course! I actually have a short one I made en route here … it's supposed to be about this cafe." Orpheum's ears perked up, immediately getting his lute and clearing his throat a bit. "I hope all of you enjoy~!"

"Go ahead. We'd love to hear it!" Rosemary smiles, eagerly waiting to play his song as the rest of the staff.

"Okay here goes …" He plucked a few notes and began to slowly gain momentum as he started to sing the piece he created.

Come one, come all!

There is a place for all!

Come one, come all!

Everyone is welcome, big or small!

Smiles, smiles are all abound~!

With happy thoughts all around!

We are always ready to serve you.

For we treat you as family too!

Come one, come all! The cafè is open!

A place to bring family or a friend!

Come one, come all! It's a party!

When you join us at the Shaymin Cafè!

He gave a bow after he sang as he always did with every performance he made. Just before he did, he can already hear applause from the group, one even cheering gleefully.

"Woooh! Great song, dude!" Chicory, the blue one blurted out, eagerly waiting to request an encore.

"Impressive. Looks like you're an a-okay then." Shiso shrugs smirking as she hugged Pumpkin, the orange one next to her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Pumpkin here seems to like it too." She looks over at Pumpkin with a nod of approval.

"Simply wonderful, Orpheum! Bravo!" Rosemary cheered gleefully, enjoying the performance wholeheartedly like the rest of the staff.

"Thanks, everyone! My heart is filled with joy knowing all of you enjoyed my song." He says, visibly blushing at his newfound audience. "It isn't new that I get applause but it always is overwhelming for me."

Rosemary stood up from her seat, looking like she was about to say something important. "Alright, everyone! Cafè is opening in half an hour, be sure to make this ready for the customers like you always do!"

The staff immediately started tidying up the cafè, with Rosemary on her way to put the specials on display outside and putting the open sign but not before she looked back at Orpheum with a reassuring smile.

"Welcome to the Shaymin Cafè"

He smiled for a bit while looking a bit conflicted on something as if pondering upon a certain thought that's been on his mind. He followed Rosemary and called out to her. "Rosemary!"

The pink Shaymin immediately turned to face him, looking confused at his sudden urgency and wanting to know what was up. "Yes, Orpheum? You need anything?"

"I was just thinking if I can take a stroll for a moment? Perhaps, more than a few moments to be precise?"

"Sure but … is everything alright? You maybe need some tea to help calm yourself down?"

"No no, please save it for your patrons. I may need some time for myself, worry not … I'll be back before you know it~" He gave her a reassuring smile as a small gust of wind blew around him.

"Okay if you say so. Guess I'll see you around." With Rosemary's wave, Orpheum immediately turned into a wisp and rode along with the wind, letting it carry him towards someplace else.

~~~

It was now nightfall, as the cafè was still bustling with patrons but no sign of Orpheum anywhere. Admittedly, Rosemary was getting concerned for him but she kept that to herself while she worked the tables and managed the patrons like the rest of her staff.

"Psst hey, Rosemary. Where's that hotshot Shaymin you were talking about?" Vetle was there as always, raising an eyebrow as he asked Rosemary about the supposed 'guest' she was advertising just outside of the shop. "I'm just waiting here."

"He'll be here soon, Vetle. Don't you worry." Her smile was hiding that concern still bubbling inside of her as she silently scanned the room for at least a teal-colored wisp. "Just sit back and rela- huh?"

She felt a gentle breeze going through her fur as she turned around, trying to spot someone from the crowd of patrons in the various tables laid around but there was still no sign of Orpheum. She can only do nothing but hum her worries away only, why does it feel like her hums had a rhythm to them? As if there was something or someone playing?

It seemed like she wasn't the only one that would notice it as a small crowd would soon form as almost everyone was turning their heads toward what seemed like someone plucking the strings of a lute effortlessly. Rosemary went towards the crowd of patrons and staff alike to see what was going and that's when she saw them.

A stranger was there playing a teal-colored lute with black-gloved paws as the crowd watched on in awe, daring not to say anything during the performance. They wore a black Venetian mask that covered the upper part of their face, while their body was adorned in a turquoise long coat laced with lacey green accents along with teal pants and black boots.

The stranger was just sitting by themselves on one of the tables and somehow inconspicuously slipped out of sight and started playing as if to make a dynamic entrance of sorts. Either that or the people were too busy minding their business to notice a well-dressed musician enter the shop and take a seat.

After a while, the stranger seemed to stop playing presumably because they were done with their tune and had a mysterious smile as he got up from his seat and bowed to the newly formed audience.

"Greetings, greetings! I am Favonius, Bard of the Blossoms! I'm sure you have been waiting for more than a moment for me but now … I shall now begin~"

It took a few seconds for Rosemary to realize what she should be doing but she immediately got up to the front of the store and called the attention of the patrons.

"Yes! Please settle down, everyone, and sit tight. Service will still continue while the performance is going on. Hope you all enjoy~"

Immediately as everyone did settle into their seats, all eyes were on Favonius as a mix of expressions gathered within the audience. Most were of course intrigued by his presence after all, if that initial introduction was what's to come what more could he show for a full performance? Favonius smiled as soon as they were now eagerly waiting for him in silence and with a single strum of his lute, he now started to a tune to which he would sing.

Lucete, Lucete Stellae …~

Our hearts flutter each night and day.

Lucete, Lucete Stellae …~

Beckoning to us the hallowed way.

When the night is cold and barren still,

With dark hearts of ill will.

Something within us will start to burn,

Igniting for what we really yearn.

We have triumphed, every one of us,

Our trials never left us in the dust.

Our stories, written in our memory,

As it was always meant to be.

Bless the light, as the torch ignites,

To our journeys and fights.

From within our grasp to far off lands,

Making every victory grand.

Even when fear looms and doubts arise,

Triumph comes at a well-fought price.

Even when we ourselves have faltered,

Sacrifices will be honored.

Lucete, Lucete Stellae …~

May the light bring us the way.

Lucete, Lucete Stellae …~

To brave the night and seize the day.

The room filled with praise from the audience as Favonius made a solemn bow, holding his hat to his side right after strumming the last tune to his song. He definitely felt satisfied knowing he would make everyone's night.

"Thank you, my fabled patrons. Thank you! I hope you all enjoyed the show for tonight but for now, farewell and have a good night."

Favonius immediately exited the stage and disappeared into the cafè exit giving everyone a swift wave and flew off towards somewhere else. A few patrons were able to witness Favonius exit but all they saw outside was a wisp that sort of disappeared into the wind.

~~~

Soon enough it was time for the cafè to close while the patrons were still talking about the performance earlier on their way out the exit. Rosemary and the other Shaymins were just cleaning up after such an eventful night as they too were talking about the performance but more importantly, Favonius themselves.

"Man, that thing earlier was pretty unexpected! Even my boyfriend agreed it felt almost like a dream …" Chicory exclaimed while he was sweeping the floors looking towards Vetle, a teal-colored Shaymin leaning against a wall. "But still, that was pretty cool! How did you even contact them, Rosemary?"

Rosemary was just as confused as Chicory when she was asked that, she was by herself and looking towards the windows when she was snapped out of her pondering. "Huh? Oh … you know, I have some connections." Rosemary smiled nervously knowing that she had no idea where he came from.

"Hmm …? You don't look so sure … was he just a stranger? Because it's not usual for you to just invite someone willy-nilly like that …" Chicory raised his eyebrow, stopping what he was doing as he was really eager to know.

"Umm you see … I …" Just as she was about to say something, a gust of wind blew into the inside of the cafè, the very same gust of wind that alerted them to a familiar presence but no tune was to be heard. This time, there came a knock on the cafè door followed by a greeting.

"Greetings, fellow Shaymins. May I come in? I hope I am not interrupting closing hours …"

"Not at all, Favonius. Please come in!" Rosemary breathed a sigh of relief, finally able to at least ask them about what happened, and crossed her arms. “Take a seat … you have some explaining to do.”

“Ohh … my apologies for the commotion earlier, madam~” He bows his head and removes his mask revealing who was behind it all this time. “I … tend to be nervous in front of a large crowd.”

“O-Orpheum!?! All this time, you were Favonius? Wh-why didn’t you told me …?” Rosemary was utterly shocked at the revelation, so was Chicory and the rest of the Shaymin present. “Wh-why did have to hide like that ...? Explain yourself.”

“W-well you see, I’m not really adept at showing my face to a large audience … and your establishment attracts such a crowd. I’m afraid I must don an outfit to appear mysterious. Otherwise, they will eventually know that I’m a deity…” Orpheum stammered in his words, really hoping that his act wasn’t a grievous fault.

“Wait am I hearing this correct? You’re a god!?!” Chicory was barely listening to Orpheum’s whole explanation and instead focused on the part where he mentioned he was a deity. “Are you kidding me!?!”

Chicory’s excitableness did make Orpheum at least for at least a little bit as he smiled. “Yes, I’m a deity. Perhaps it is time to let all of you know. Rosemary was the only one who knew.” He looked over at Rosemary as she gave him a reassuring okay gesture. “But if I did show my true face to a large crowd, there would be consequences. I hope all of you understand why I did that earlier …”

Rosemary would then put a hand on his shoulder and smile. “Of course it’s fine! Let’s just let be our little secret. Right, guys? Especially you, Vetle. Don’t you go around and spill the beans.”

“Yes! Me and my boyfriend here are 100% in it for this little secret! Right, Vetle?” Chicory piped in as Vetle gave a shrug, presumably as a way of approval. “Yeah yeah, whatever. I won’t tell if it means I get the front row seats.” Vetle added with a smirk on his face.

“Me and my girlfriend also agree. Your secret’s safe with us.” Pumpkin also added to the conversation as Shiso gave a nod. “Don’t you worry a thing.”

“See, Orpheum? You’ll be just fine. After all, Shaymin’s gotta stick together.” Rosemary then smiled, Orpheum shedding a tear and let out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, everyone … truly this has been an eventful day. But I am grateful for every one of your understanding. But alas, I must take my leave for now. Have a good night. It has been a pleasure meeting all of you.” With that, the Shaymin bard exited the café but not without giving a wave from his hat and letting the wind carry him back towards the forest.

[harlot-of-oblivion]

Prowling For Pleasure

You treat Vergil to a night of indulgent luxury and forbidden pleasures.

Rated Explicit for: Dubcon, Vampiric Manipulation, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Femdom, and the usual Vampire Activities. 

Part Two: Decadence & Depravity 

Tonight is the night of your promised hunt, and you can honestly say that you’ve never felt this excited in all your undead life! Everything is almost ready for your date…all you need to do is finish getting dressed, which is easier said than done with the ever-growing knot in the pit of your stomach. You’ve grown accustomed to spending your solitude with only a few trusted confidants, but the thought of stepping out for a night on the town with Vergil is exhilarating!

You can’t stand all the pent-up nervousness and excitement raging inside you any longer. Your eyes dart over to a black velvet bag sitting on a nearby shelf as you apply the finishing touches to your makeup. You reach over and grab it before taking out a deck of tarot cards at Vergil’s desk. Their musty scent wafts through the air as you shuffle the cards a few times, envisioning your question before splitting the deck into three smaller stacks. Then, you gather them all back up in a different order and spread the top four cards out on the desk in the form of a cross.

Time to see how our date will play out.

You turn over the first card to reveal the image of a nude woman pouring two vessels of water, one over land and the other into a calm river. Your lips curve into a fond smile at the familiar card, The Star, which has popped up in a lot of your readings ever since Vergil started calling you by the sweet endearment. So, it makes sense why this card represents you and your feelings in the matter at hand: you hope to grow even closer with your fierce fella after tonight.

Your brow quirks at the next card in the spread, which depicts a man in full armor riding atop a valiant steed with a large wand. Huh…how curious, you muse, tilting your head at the Knight of Wands as you ponder its meaning. It usually denotes a popular person prone to grand gestures crossing your way…this person may also be full of themselves and impetuous, leading them to make rushed and foolish decisions. You’re not exactly sure what this means for your date tonight, but you get the feeling that it won’t be favorable.  

The next card has you blinking a couple times before leaning in just to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. But the scene of three young women dancing in a circle with their golden chalices held high in a joyful toast remains the same. Curiouser and curiouser, you thought while tapping your nails on the desk, wondering if the proposed outcome of success is too good to be true. Drawing the Three of Cups is all around a good omen though, so you press onto the very last card of the spread.

A shiver runs up your spine at the sight of a man and a woman embracing each other in paradise. The consequences of tonight’s date will lead to what you’ve always wanted in your previous life…and what you desire now more than ever despite your cursed existence. Now I know it’s too good to be true, you consider sullenly, warning yourself to not get your hopes up as you begin clearing the desk. But a peculiar notion pops into your head when you touch The Lovers card again; it doesn’t seem like your usual stray thoughts at all…it feels like a sudden prediction of moments yet come…    

Two souls shall converge in a moment of destiny.

“I didn’t take you for a fortune teller.”

Your head whips around at the sound of your lover’s voice. His soft lips curl into a smirk as you check out his delectable attire for tonight. The paisley pattern of the midnight blue jacket looks absolutely regal buttoned around his waist. A black and blue handkerchief pokes out of his jacket’s pocket, bringing your attention to the silky black lapels framing his broad chest. The matching black dress shirt and pants starkly contrasts with his silvery white hair while the Yamato hanging on his hip completes his elegant wardrobe.

“I don’t dabble in tarot much,” you explain while storing the cards back inside the small velvet bag. “But I thought a little insight might help us with our date tonight,” you admit, softly nipping your lower lip with a single fang as you get up from his desk.

Vergil hums in understanding as you stow the bag back on the appropriate shelf. “And where, exactly, shall this date take place?” he inquires, slicking back his perfectly styled hair while watching you with a curious gleam in his eyes.

Your hands become a blur as you quickly wrap your hair into a low bun before pinning it in place. “There’s this posh jazz lounge downtown,” you reveal while grabbing a starry headpiece with two chain swags. “It has an excellent bar, great music…” you pause for a moment as you carefully stick the headpiece right above your bun. “And some private sitting rooms for exclusive members,” you finish, clipping the two chains on either side of your head.

Vergil tilts his head. “Sounds like you’ve hunted there before.”

You chortle at his keen deduction as you swiftly fasten an elaborate shoulder necklace around your neck. “It was my usual haunt on those nights whenever I needed a break from blood packs,” you recall with an impish smirk while adjusting the hanging strings of pearls on your arms. “But I haven’t had to go back since you feed me so well, my love,” you point out with a playful purr before showing off your strapless black dress.

The sparkling diamonds and iridescent pearls twinkle like stars as you spin around with a slow and sensual twirl. His husky growl sends pleasant tingles below your belly as the skirt flares out, revealing your bare legs and black stiletto heels. You run a finger down your cleavage with a flirty grin, relishing the spark of desire in his silver blue eyes as your knee pokes out of the scandalously long slit of your dress.

“Well?” you prompt with a pleased smile. “What do you think?”

Vergil slowly stalks over to you. “Now I know why mortals can’t stay away when you’re on the prowl,” he softly declares while taking your hand. “You’re irresistible…” he trails off, turning your hand so that he may place a gentle kiss upon your wrist. “And utterly magnificent,” he murmurs with a reverent smile as he tips your chin up into his amorous kiss.    

You grasp the lapels of his jacket as both of your lips slowly smack against each other for a moment before withdrawing with delighted hums. He offers his arm and you gladly accept by wrapping both of your hands around his elbow. His wicked smirk stirs that ever-present hunger deep inside you as he leads you out of his room, effectively distracting you from sharing one more crucial detail of the date.

“There’s one last thing I’d like to do before we leave,” you reveal nervously as both of you descend the stairs. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this with anyone but…”

Vergil looks down at you inquisitively as you close your eyes and focus on reaching out with your mind. His eyes widen in shock as your quiet thoughts brush against his consciousness. “It’ll help us keep track of each other tonight,” you reassure, patiently waiting for him to let down his guard. You can feel him contemplating for a few moments before your mind is suddenly flooded with another presence. It feels familiar and little apprehensive, so you decide to test the connection with a simple thought.

Can you hear me, my love?  

Vergil stares at your unmoving lips in wonder as your words pass through his mind. Then, he gives you an affectionate smile while his response slips past your barrier.        

You continue to surprise me, my Evening Star.

“Shall we?” he asks aloud while opening the door.

Your soft giggle fills his mind as both of you leave the shop. He slashes open a portal with the Yamato and takes your arm before leading you to the other side. Then, you explain your powers and abilities in more detail as you both walk through the more upscale part of the city towards your destination. It doesn’t take long for both of you to arrive at The Nightingale, a high-end jazz lounge and your hunting ground for the night.

Vergil asks if a reservation is needed to enjoy this swanky club as you approach the entrance. You nod and admit that you’re not on the list but that can be rectified with just a few words. He quirks his brow at you as he opens the door, letting you enter first before following right behind you.

A young lady greets you in the entryway. “Hi! Welcome to The Nightingale! Your name, please?” she inquires with a friendly smile.

You give her some random name and as she looks down to check the list, you let a tiny bit of the magnetizing presence hidden within you slip out. “Hmm…I don’t see you…” she trails off with a soft gasp as her head snaps up to meet your gaze. “Gosh, you’re so pretty,” she admits with a dreamy sigh before blinking with surprise. “Oh! I’m so sorry, miss! I dunno what’s gotten into me,” she hastily apologizes with a shake of her head.

“Think nothing of it, darling,” you reassure with a tilt of your head as you stare into her awestruck eyes.

Your vampiric charm pulls her in deeper as you delve into her mind, sifting through a few recent memories before reshaping one for your intended purpose. “Perhaps you should check the list again,” you kindly suggest while receding from her mind. “We don’t want any trouble over a simple misunderstanding,” you add with a patient smirk as you glance over at Vergil, who looks just as confused and fascinated as the hostess.

“Yes, of course,” she replies before checking the list again. “Oh! There you are!” she exclaims while marking the exact name she now remembers you saying to begin with. “Must’ve misheard you…so sorry about that!” she apologizes again with a sheepish grin as she points down a nearby hall with huge double doors. You thank her with a smile before heading in that direction, silently amused at her quiet muttering about making a fool of herself in front of a beautiful stranger.

Vergil observes you from the corner of his eye before speaking softly. “It all makes sense now…how you’re so good at gathering information,” he muses with an amazed smirk as both of you come to a halt in the hallway.

“Oh, that’s nothing compared to what I’m about to do, my love,” you boast, noting the two doormen just outside the main venue as you stare up at him with a smug smile. His arms wrap around you as he chuckles at your boldness, bringing you in close to bestow a soft kiss above your brow.

“Happy hunting, my dear.”

And with that, he teleports away in a blink of an eye, leaving you to deal with the spooked doormen. Damnable devil, you thought while rolling your eyes with an annoyed huff. But you’re able to calm them down easily by assuming a peaceful aura within your vampiric presence. They both go back to their positions by the double doors and swing them open as you approach the loud and lively venue.

The smooth sounds of jazz along with the excited chatter of the crowd brings back memories of a past long forgotten. You pause just outside the door to capture this moment before a magnificent storm while nostalgia sweeps you away to a bygone age. Then, you slowly release the full majesty of your presence, letting it unfurl like a blooming flower as you stride into the main floor with your head held high.

All eyes are instantly upon you as the entirety of the club notices your grand entrance. Even the music slows down as your presence hits the musicians, but they quickly recover and find the rhythm again. You can’t help but to smirk at their awed stares and gaping faces as you pass by multiple tables. Several waiters completely ignore their current customers to assist you with your every need. Your soft laughter makes all their hearts beat faster, stirring your hunger as you request a secluded table on the second floor. Their heavenly sighs fill the air when they behold your gracious smile before rushing off to do their task.

You search for Vergil with your mind as you head up to the second floor, questioning if he successfully made it inside the venue unnoticed. His impressed hum brushing against your consciousness lets you know that he’s not only there but close by. Your eyes dart from side to side as you wonder where he could be hiding…but the mystery of his whereabouts has you shivering with anticipation. The thrill of being watched from the shadows runs through you as you’re seated on a plush couch by a table with a fantastic view of the stage.  

That’s when your hunt truly begins.

Most of your kind usually like to roam around looking for their prey and play pretend as they chat up some gullible mortals. Then, they lure them to a private place where the ignorant human will experience the bliss of the Dark Kiss while their new acquaintance indulges in their blood. It’s typical of all vampires to hunt this way…but some predators wait for their prey to come to them.

And oh, do they come…like a swarm of moths to a dangerous flame.

Quite a few people approach you with various requests over the next hour. Some ask if they can join your table while others just want to buy you a drink. You accept some patrons at your table and refuse others, steadily surrounding yourself with potential prey while listening to excellent jazz. Your keen sense of hearing picks up their whispered conversation, learning a little about these mortals as you judge the potency of their blood. All of them show promise but their constant gawking and shallow compliments are boring you to death…again!

Your eyes begin to wander as the band starts playing a slow and smoky tune, totally changing the atmosphere of the club to something more intimate. And that’s when you spy a young woman standing by the bar, trying her hardest to not get caught staring as she peeks over at your table. How adorable, you muse while admiring her curves and pretty dress. You tilt your head with interest when her body quivers under your alluring gaze, which only whets your appetite even more…that is until the sudden appearance of a young man distracts her.

You manage to hold back the irritable growl crawling up your throat at this unfortunate interruption. But you continue to watch closely as they start talking, noting that they must know each other very well going by their friendly demeanor. The woman must have mentioned you since the man glances your way and his body instantly reacts much like his lady friend. Your brow quirks as they lean in close, sharing a few more hushed whispers before turning around to face you together.

Oh my…what an adventurous couple, you surmise, softly laughing to yourself as you dismiss your entourage with a mere flick of your hand. They all follow your silent command without question, leaving you alone with a couple bottles of unopened champagne. You pat the now empty couch with your hand as you lure them over with an inviting grin.

The daring couple immediately join you and introduce themselves while sitting on either side of you on the couch. You take one of the bottles of champagne and pop the cork, smiling at their eager faces as you kindly offer to pour them a drink. They each grab a glass and propose a toast about seizing opportunities for new experiences before taking a sip as you steer the conversation towards themselves.

It doesn’t take much cajoling to learn that they’re not only a couple but engaged, and you just so happen to catch them the night before their wedding! You ask why they’ve chosen to spend their time with you rather than enjoying each other’s company and they both give a vague answer…but curiosity gets the better of you. So, you simply urge them to be honest with your captivating presence, holding them even tighter within your seductive sway as they spill all their dirty little secrets.  

Oh, this is just too delicious! you gush when they reveal one in particular fantasy about having a threesome with a gorgeous stranger. You lean in real close to each of them and whisper your own craving for something new and exciting, tempting both of them with the promise of exquisite pleasure as you nibble on their ear. Your hunger intertwines with lust as you eye both of their necks, reveling in the aroused blood running through their veins.

You’re absolutely ravenous by the time they finish off one bottle of champagne, and you dare say that your venturesome couple is ready for more…but the sudden announcement of a song request draws your attention. You look down at the stage to see the bandleader pointing up in your direction.

“This next song is for the star up above.”

The band begins playing some mediocre number that barely manages to be tolerable. Your brow furrows at the awful request while your lovely couple remains totally oblivious to your confusion. The insidious whispers of paranoia invade your thoughts, but you push them aside as you mentally reach out to Vergil.

Did you…?

His reply is swift with a hint of cold anger.

No. It was him.

You scan the room and instantly spot the man that has provoked the ire of your fierce fella. It’s not hard to pick him out with that shameless leer on his face as he struts towards you. As he gets closer, you feel this distinctive shift in the air around him while the potency of his blood sets you on edge. You can sense his influence seeping through the mortals around him, bending their will in a show of dominance as he finally makes it to your table.  

There’s no mistaking it.

You’re in the presence of another vampire.  

“Hey there, sugar,” he greets, making your skin crawl as his lips curve into an oily smile. “Mind if I join you?”

You give him a quick once over before looking back up with an unimpressed frown. “Would if I could but I’m quite busy at the moment,” you decline coolly, wrapping an arm around the woman as you tousle the man’s hair.

“Aww, c’mon now…can’t a couple of night owls share a drink?” he persists as his eyes flicker over your adventurous couple.

Your eyes squint into an icy glare. “Go get your own and leave me be.”

The meddling mosquito laughs in your face. “Listen, I don’t appreciate you moving in on my turf without the proper courtesy that’s expected of one so young,” he discloses while that oily smile turns more sinister with every word. “But I’m willing to put this lil’ transgression behind us.”

You roll your eyes as he moves in closer, encroaching on your personal space while staring you down. His lecherous gaze makes your blood boil as a foreign presence slams against consciousness. “All you have to do is-” he abruptly gets cut off as his eyes meet with your furious stare.

KNEEL!

Your harsh command assaults his mind with overwhelming force. His knees buckle under the weight of your superior power as he falls to the ground. He looks back up at you in shock, mouth agape and eyes wide as he begins to grovel at your feet. “I’m deeply sorry, mistress…I didn’t realize-”

SILENCE!

The pathetic little tick instantly shuts his gaping mouth. “I know for a fact this is not your turf,” you reveal, slowly raising his chin up with your foot before shoving the tip of your stiletto heel between his lips. “In fact, no one has claim over this place…until tonight.”

His eyes widen in terror as you pierce his filthy damned soul with your scornful gaze. You mentally nudge the young woman beside you to grab the bottle of champagne off of the table. She complies and pops the cork before handing it over with a sweet smile, not even acknowledging the cowering vampire kneeling before you.

“It’s all mine now.”  

Your overpowering dominance keeps him from standing up or speaking out as you pour every last drop of champagne atop of his head. An amused chuckle flits through your mind as the sparkling bubbly dribbles down his mortified face. You wedge the tip of your heel deeper between his teeth, letting the slope of your foot guide a good amount of champagne into his mouth. He gags and tries to spit it out, but you command him to swallow every fizzy drop, knowing that he’ll have to suffer through the unpleasant process of purging it from his body once you’re done with him.  

You order him to clean your foot as soon as the champagne stops flowing, carefully instructing him to only lick the bottom since your stiletto heels are way too expensive for his vile tongue. Your lips curl into a cruel smirk as he laps up all the dirt and grime with a disgusted frown on his face. You take pleasure in his humiliation while handing the empty bottle over to the young man sitting calmly beside you. And when you tire of his submissive cleaning, you decide to give this worthless tick one last word of warning before setting him free.

“I highly suggest you never darken my domain again,” you threaten while molding his will like wet clay, “unless you want to suffer a fate worse than Final Death.”

And with that final command, you release him with a dismissive wave of your hand. He quickly stands up and tries to speak, but something behind you catches him off guard. You see a flicker of blue reflect in his horrified eyes, visibly shaking with unbridled fear as he slowly backs away before making a hasty departure.

You follow his speedy retreat until he’s no longer in sight. “Now, where were we?” you murmur while cupping the lady’s cheek as your foot rubs up and down the young man’s leg. “Ah yes…I remember now.” Your hungry gaze flickers between your adventurous couple before looking at one of the private sitting rooms. Their bodies shiver in delight as you finally close in on your prey with one final question:

“Care to join me somewhere more private?”      

🌹🦇🌹 (Vergil’s POV) 🌹🦇🌹

Vergil knew he was in for an intriguing experience when he agreed to this lascivious date. So far, it’s played out exactly as he expected: you’ve ensnared everyone in the club with your enthralling presence and caught some prey within your alluring web. The detestable appearance of another vampire nearly made him come out of hiding to cut him down. But he stayed his hand and watched as his Evening Star bent the miscreant to her will before ordering him to leave immediately.

Remarkable, he muses, impatiently wringing the collar of his dress shirt while intense yearning flushes through his body. His keen ears pick up your sensual whisper as you ask the enamored young couple to follow you somewhere else. They nod their heads eagerly before wrapping themselves around each of your arms. He hears your voice ringing through his mind like a delicate breeze as you stand up and glance at a vacant room guarded by a doorman.

Better hurry, my love…the show’s about to begin.

Vergil smirks at your playful tone as you glide across the floor with refined grace. He follows close behind, trying his best to remain unseen while waiting for an opening to sneak into the room. Your captivating gaze falls upon the doorman, staring at him with intense focus while muttering under your breath. His eyes glaze over as he stands stock still for a few seconds before snapping out his momentary daze. Then, the doorman smiles politely at your approach and opens the door for you, giving Vergil the opportunity to slink in after you when he walks away.

He quietly shuts the door behind him and creeps among the shadows of the room, checking for any sign of the couple being aware of an uninvited guest. But you have them wrapped around your finger, completely infatuated and fawning over your every move as you lead them to a large couch in the corner. He leans against the opposite wall as you guide the woman to sit down and halt the young man from following suit by gently placing your hand on his chest.        

“Ladies first.”

The young man shivers and nods his head in understanding. He moves to stand by the young woman while you sit beside her, giving Vergil a perfect view as the climax of your hunt begins. You cup her face and bring her in close, only stopping a hair’s breadth from her lips as your hands slide down her neck. She whimpers and tries to lean in for a kiss, but you gently push her to lie down on the couch and continue to caress the curves of her body.

Vergil remains motionless as you lift the young woman’s dress up, spreading her legs to reveal her soaking wet panties. His cock twitches as you settle between her thighs, nipping at her skin while moving lower and lower…then, the woman gasps and her face contorts in pain for only a second before slacking in pleasure as your fangs sink into the prominent vein near her clothed sex.    

“Holy shit,” the young man grunts, palming his bulging crotch as he watches you partake of his lover.

Vergil finds himself mirroring the action, cupping his aching cock while taking in every detail of this depraved moment. The euphoric moans of the young woman as she writhes in pleasure on the couch has him itching to loosen his pants. But he resists the urge to touch himself and just continues to witness the power his Evening Star welds over these mortals.

You withdraw from the woman after drinking a couple more mouthfuls and pin the young man down with your lustful gaze. His eyes widen as you smack your red lips, letting out a pleased hum while drops of blood dribble down your chin. “What the fuck?!” he gasps with realization as you bend down and close the wounds on his lover’s thigh with a swipe of your tongue.

Vergil senses his fear and summons the Yamato at the ready for a quick getaway if needed. But you simply rush over to him in a mere second and place a single finger on his trembling lips. “Shh,” you coo, staring deeply into his eyes as you ease him to a state of total relaxation. His lips curve into a dopey smile as you circle around and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” you whisper while staring down at the blissed-out woman still laying on the couch.

“Y-yes!” he gasps as your fangs graze his ear. “I love her so much,” he tacks on with genuine fondness, making your lips quirk into an amused smirk while prompting him to look at you once more.

“Be a good boy and feed your mistress.”

The young man turns around and bares his neck for you. He seems to melt in your embrace as you scrape your fangs against the pulsating vein. You peer over his shoulder before biting down, seemingly staring right where Vergil is standing in shadows. The young man grunts in pain as your fangs sink into his flesh, but then he moans as his body quakes in pleasure.

Vergil’s grip on the Yamato tightens as his other hand moves on its own accord, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants while you enjoy your second drink of the night. He quietly hisses as his cock springs free from its tight confines, already engorged and weeping white droplets at the tip. His blatant gaze never wavers from your mesmerizing stare as he finally succumbs to his deepest desire and begins pleasuring himself. He grits his teeth with every pump of his hand, consciously holding back any grunts and growls that try to escape his throat. The intense yearning from earlier overtakes his mind, hardening his cock even more with the thought of you handling mortals like mere playthings.

After a few more moments of silently watching each other, you release the young man’s neck with a pleased hiss. Your tongue closes his wounds with a quick lick before relinquishing him from your grasp. You softly gasp and cover your delighted smirk with a dainty hand as you examine the huge wet spot on the front of his pants.

“Looks like somebody got too excited!” you playfully note while directing him to sit next to his lover on the couch. “But that’s alright,” you sigh as the young man just smiles happily, totally oblivious to coming undone by your sensual bite alone. “I know exactly what you need for round two,” you divulge with a wicked gleam in your eye as you take a seat between them.

Vergil pauses at your mysterious words and quirks his eyebrow when you prick your middle finger with one of your fangs. “Both of you have pleased your mistress greatly,” you gush while holding your hand over to the young woman. “So as a reward…” you murmur as a few droplets of your blood drips between her parted lips.

The young woman lets out an ecstatic cry as your thick and redolent nectar touches her tongue. You let her suckle on your finger for a moment before giving the young man his fair share of his prize. He also cries out at the taste of your blood, eagerly lapping every drop off your finger. The front of his pants grow tight with his reinvigorated arousal while his lover rubs her cunt through her drenched panties.

You get up from the couch and stare at the hedonistic couple with a satisfied smile. “I suggest you fuck each other hard and rough,” you coax with a provocative purr. “Oh! And one more thing,” you quickly add while cupping both of their enraptured faces. “After you both come…” you trail off as they meet your entrancing gaze, remaining still and silent until he hears you whispering your final command.

FORGET.

Vergil sees the light in their eyes glaze over as you slowly retreat from the couch. He swiftly puts his cock away and waits until you’re close enough to pounce on you. His arm encircles your waist before dragging you back into the shadows.  

“You shine so brightly, my Evening Star,” he whispers fondly, earning a quiet giggle and soft whimper from you as he nibbles your ear.

Your head tilts to the side as you look up at him from the corner of your eye. “Enjoy the show, my love?” you inquire with a naughty grin while grinding against his crotch.  

“Immensely.”

“Mmm…I’ll say!” you quietly exclaim with glee while eyeing his straining cock.

You suddenly become a blur of motion before his eyes, completely taking him off guard as he leans back against the wall. His head snaps down to see his pants by his knees and you licking the underside of his cock, pulling a surprised grunt from him while the sound of passionate sex fills the air. You gesture with your head towards the swooning couple, subtly prodding him to watch as they fulfill your request.

Vergil beholds the scene of pure debauchery just a few feet in front of him: torn clothes strewn across the floor surround the couple vigorously making love on the couch. He focuses on the lady bouncing up and down in the young man’s lap, admiring her swaying breasts as she struggles to keep up with her lover’s fast pace. His curious gaze lingers down to where they’re connected, so wet and slippery as they slap against each other over and over. He feels your mouth sink all the way down his cock as both of their cries of shared ecstasy stoke the flames of his desire.  

You waste no time with your usual teasing and start sucking him off with the fervor of a wanton harlot, eagerly bobbing your head in time with the couple’s raunchy pace. Their litany of shameless moans drown out his approving growl as he cups the back of your head and thrusts his hips to meet every downstroke of your mouth. He can feel his cock growing more taut against your tongue while the tightening sensation of imminent release pools below his belly. The hand clenching the Yamato starts to shake as he pursues that blessed peak of pleasure, approaching fast and getting closer and closer and closer…  

The private room’s door abruptly bursts open, startling both him and the randy couple but not you in the slightest. A strange sensation swathes him with a spine-tingling chill as a doorman hurries inside and begins asking the couple to get dressed. Your lips curl into knowing smirk around his cock, still sucking with gusto as his heart begins to pound with the thrill of getting caught.

The doormen turns his head towards your hiding spot in the shadowy corner. Vergil takes the Yamato in both hands and presses its sheath against the back of your head, effectively barring you from making any more movement. But that doesn’t stop your tongue from lavishing his shaft…nor your hands from caressing his innermost thighs. He purses his lips and glares down at you in warning while attempting to remain silently composed.

You look up at his scowling face as your fangs elongate in defiance, grazing the silky skin around the base of his cock. The lone doorman comes closer, peering at the darkened corner as you stroke and squeeze his balls. The preserve thought of coming undone in front of a total stranger makes his pleasure soar sky high, climbing higher and higher until his impending release starts to curl and crest…and despite his best efforts to stubbornly resist, he comes crashing down with a restrained roar at the back of this throat.

Vergil watches as the doorman scratches his head in confusion, seemingly unaware of a devilish intruder emptying his load into your mouth. He doesn’t dare to move with the doorman standing so close, resigning to just enjoy the decadence of such carnal delights as the last tremors of his orgasm leaves him breathless. But the doorman eventually departs with the perplexed couple in tow, finally giving both of you respite from the utterly tense yet highly arousing situation. He glances down at you through half-lidded eyes, noting the white streaks of his seed leaking down your pretty chin with a gratified hum.    

Your lips curve into a pleased grin as you pull his spent cock out of your mouth. He knows that you can’t partake of his seed, but the thought of you spitting it out seems like a waste. So, he sweeps you up into his arms before you find a trash bin and captures your lips with a hungry kiss. You throw your arms around his neck as he pries your mouth open, softly moaning while thick white cum trickles down on his waiting tongue. He swings you around and presses your back against the wall, eagerly drinking every last drop before tearing away from your lush lips with a low growl.

“I have half a mind to punish you for your disobedience,” he scolds with an irritable snarl.    

“Even though you liked it?” you point out with an amused giggle. “You shouldn’t have let me taste you again if you really wanted to berate me for fulfilling your voyeuristic fantasies,” you point out while licking your lips with a satisfied hum. His brow twitches at your response but he doesn’t deny that he enjoyed the rush of adrenaline when the doorman unknowingly looked straight at him. You smile knowingly as he lowers you down to the ground with an indignant huff.

“And don’t worry, my love,” you coo softly as he makes himself presentable again. “I cloaked us both in the shadows of their mind, so we weren’t in any real danger of being caught.”

Vergil pauses as he remembers the strange sensation that overtook him when the doorman showed up. “You’ve failed to mention that you can extend that deceptive power to me,” he mutters with a suspicious squint while zipping up his pants and buckling his belt.

“It must’ve slipped my mind,” you note with a nonchalant shrug and cheeky grin.

A rumbling growl emanates from his throat as he crowds you against the wall with his looming height. “Such insolence will not go unpunished, my dear.”

You nip your lower lip with a single fang as his hand slides up along the slit of your dress before slipping between your legs. He softly growls while stroking you over the flimsy fabric of your panties, utterly pleased by slick essence of your sex dripping down his long fingers. You whimper as he shows off just how wet you are by bringing his hand up close to his face before licking a finger clean. Then, he presses another glistening finger against your lips, silently demanding you to open your mouth while gazing down at you with dark promise in his eyes. You hum indulgently while sucking his finger clean before titillating him with your brazen response to his enticing threat.          

“I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me, my love.”    

I’d like to thank @bettybattaglia for her galaxy brain idea of champagne guzzling and heel licking! And I gotta give a shout to all my fellow judgement sluts in the discord server for encouraging this filth! 😂🙈

Tagging: @drusoona @exsultry @tehrevving @varen-neoraven @shiranyaaww

[p-artsypants]

Longest Night (46) Dancing

Ao3 | FF.net

It rained the night of Mayor Bourgeois’ ball. An ill omen if you were to ask Marinette or Adrien. Their first night being reintroduced into proper society, and it rained. 

A limo had been sent to the bakery, so that the guests of honor could arrive in style. Alya and Nino had shown up early, also invited because of their hero status, not that any event planners besides Chloe knew. 

Gabriel had really outdone himself. Though the designs were based on sketches from Marinette, he had taken them to a whole new level. “So you,” he had said. “It’s perfect, just for you!” 

The champagne dress with exposed back and high slit leg hadn’t felt ‘like her’ at all. Of course it was gorgeous, and it was a beautiful dress. The iridescent silk changed colors as she moved, drawing all eyes to her. Maybe in another life, when Ladybug hadn’t been defeated, she’d feel more deserving of the dress. 

As it stood, the low back just showed her scars, and made her feel exposed. ‘Wear them like a badge of honor.’ Gabriel had said, ‘you survived, you’re here. You’re stronger than anyone else in that room.’

And yet, as she stood looking herself over in the mirror, she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. 

Ugly. 

The door to the bathroom opened and closed, her husband entering. Gabriel hadn’t spared him from the ‘wear your scars with pride’ treatment either. The white shirt under his suit only buttoned up to his sternum, allowing the scar from his rib surgery to be seen. He was just lucky his skin graft scars were hidden under the deep gray suit. 

“You look beautiful,” Adrien said, looking at her with adoration.

“I don’t think so.” She brushed her hair once again. It was still too short to really do anything with, so she had opted to let Alya curl it. With all of her nervous tugging and pulling, the curls were turning into waves, and would soon be flat.

Adrien rested a hand on her bare shoulder, kissing her scarred neck. “I’ve always found you beautiful, Marinette. No amount of dirt or scars could change that.”

“Well, what about everyone else? What will they think?”

“Do you really care what everyone else thinks? Much less a bunch of stuffy, obnoxious politicians?”

“No…I suppose not. I just…if I get criticized at all, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.” 

“No one will criticize you. I happen to think the dress is very flattering on you.”

“The scars don’t ruin it?”

“No. If anything, they compliment it.” 

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Is it working?”

“I love you, Adrien Agreste. Thank you.” She bounced on her toes and pressed a delicate kiss to his lips. 

There was a knock on the door, followed by Sabine’s voice. “Are you both ready? The party starts soon.”

“Better bite the bullet.” 

They left the bathroom together, meeting up with the rest of the group downstairs in the bakery. Before leaving the apartment, Adrien grabbed an umbrella, and held it above his wife as she climbed into the limo. 

The action felt familiar, as did his smile in doing so. 

The ride to Le Grand Paris was pleasant. Alya and Nino gushed over the amenities in the car. “I’ve never ridden in a limo before! I feel so fancy!” Said Alya, as she sprawled out over one of the seats. There was plenty of room to do so.

“Would anyone care for some champagne?” Nino asked, in his fanciest poshest voice. 

“You open that bottle, and I’ll tell your mother.” Sabine warned. “It’s not polite to get drunk before arriving at a party.” 

“I’m glad you both got to come,” Marinette said, smoothly changing the subject. “This would be really boring without you.” 

“Oh, we’re boring?” Tom asked, arms crossed. 

“You know what I meant, Papa.” Marinette smiled at him. 

Arriving at Le Grand Paris, you would have thought they were arriving at a movie premier. The door to the limousine opened and there was a series of flashes from the paparazzi. 

Tom and Sabine went out first, followed by Nino and Alya, and then finally, Adrien and Marinette stepped out under the umbrella. 

“Did you design the dress yourself?”

“Did Gabriel design your outfits?”

“Are you wearing someone else?”

Clothing. They were all asking about the clothing. That was something she could handle. Adrien was right. The dress was flashy, and eye catching, and that’s all anyone was going to talk about. 

The alternative was not polite for such an occasion. 

They were led through the lobby, into the elevator, and upstairs into the ballroom. 

Before the elevator doors even opened, she could hear the crowd, a garbled mess of voices and laughter. Her heart rate increased. 

Then the doors opened, and they stepped into the room. 

All eyes seemed to land on her and Adrien, as guests clapped for their arrival. She wasn’t able to do anything but stand there. Stand there frozen and staring, not even smiling. These guests were here to pay her respect and honor, but by god it was the worst experience of her life. 

Over and over, her gaze flitted to face after face in the crowd, barely recognizing them for a second. These were strangers, people she never would have known, except for one tiny little detail. 

Some of them, she had murdered. 

She had seen their faces only once before, in her memories, last breaths, screams of agony. 

And they were clapping for her. 

Did they not remember? Or were they pretending? Were they hiding and plotting? Were she and Adrien in danger?

Then Chloe was there, in her bee-themed dress, loud and bright and inviting. “Adrikins! Maripoo! You’re here!” 

She never would have said this before, but thank God Chloé was here. 

She weaseled between them, hooking an arm through both of theirs. “Come on, I’ll show you to your table!” 

It was right in front of the dance floor, which was vacant for now. A small symphonic band played beautiful music, filling the hall with the sort of ambience only seen in Disney movies. 

Gabriel and Emilie were already at the table. 

“Oh Marinette!” Emilie cooed. “You look absolutely gorgeous! Gabriel insisted on keeping this dress a surprise from me and I have been dying to see it!” She played with the long piece of flowing fabric over Marinette’s shoulder. “I love the purple undertones! It perfectly matches your lipstick!” 

“Thank you, Madam Agreste.” 

“And look at you!” She immediately went to her son. “My handsome man! Oh! You’re so grown up!” She rested a hand on his cheek. “Before I fell asleep, you were a little shorter than me. Now...now I have to look up at you.” 

Adrien looked away from her, a pain in his chest. 

“Sorry, I just...got swept up in emotion. That suit fits you like a dream.” 

Then she was onto the next target. “Oh Sabine!” 

Now that they were in public, Adrien’s voice disappeared again. But Marinette could read his expressions like an open book. “The suit makes you look older. Of course it would stand out.” 

He nodded in understanding, letting the resentment go. He had no reason to be angry with his mother. He just constantly had to remind himself until it stuck. 

They both took a seat at the table. Obviously, people were schmoozing around and rubbing elbows. But the schmoozers could come over here if they were so inclined. 

Next to Marinette sat her parents, and next to Adrien sat Nino and Alya, while Gabriel and Emilie sat on the other side. Chloe sat at the table next to them, just an arm’s length away from Adrien.  

So they were surrounded by mostly trustworthy people. The jury was still out on Gabriel, but he had at least shown that his harm was unintentional. 

They had to be prepared for the worst if someone in the room decided to go for revenge. 

Of course, now that their identities were out in the open and the party planners were somehow educated on kwamis (probably thanks to Chloé) there was a small doll sized table in the middle of their table, fitted with two chairs and settings. 

“Oh, that’s cute. Tikki, Plagg, you can join us.” 

The Kwamis peeked out of Adrien’s jacket, where they had hunkered down for the night. 

“Oh don’t mind if I do!” Sang Plagg, as he took his seat. “I demand cheese cubes!” 

Tikki was only a beat behind. “Behave yourself Plagg, this is a very fancy event.” 

“And we are the guests of honor,” he said snottily. “While Adrien and Marinette are the brains and bodies, we are the brawn. So we get just as many accolades as them!” 

“Selfish.” Tikki drawled. 

A waiter appeared at the table. “Dinner is still a ways out, but can I get drinks or hors d'oeuvres for anyone?” 

“Your finest cheese cubes, my good man! And keep them coming until I fall out of this chair!” 

“Yes, of course Mr. Black Cat.” 

Gabriel ordered a white wine for the table, while Marinette just asked for water for her and Adrien. 

“It’s alright,” said Sabine. “You can have a glass of wine. It’s a special occasion.” 

“I appreciate that, but I need to be alert. Just in case.” 

Sabine heaved a little sigh, disappointed, but understanding. “Alright. Just try to have a little fun, okay?”

Marinette looked over the crowd again, subtlety trying to see who was watching her.

Considering this was her first public appearance as Ladybug, there were quite a few.

“Did you need something Miss Dupain-Cheng?” A waiter asked. 

“Oh…no, no just—just looking.” 

“Alright, don’t hesitate to flag us down if you need something.”

“Thank you.” 

He cheerfully filled up her water cup before scurrying off. 

Before Marinette could get lost in her scouring, she was interrupted by Gabriel. “Adrien, will you come with me a moment? There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” 

Adrien stood from his seat with hesitation. Even now, at an event like this, Gabriel wanted him to rub shoulders with business folk? Maybe not, and so his curiosity propelled him on into following. 

“Should I come too?” Marinette asked. 

“No no, just…just relax Marinette.” 

Ah, so this was one of his business associates. Well, he’d humor his father this once, and see what this was all about. 

They crossed the room, coming upon a group of laughing men, all in expensive suits with expensive wine in hand, with expensive watches on their wrists, and fattened with expensive foods. 

Adrien immediately felt out of place. 

“Adrien, this is M. Mercier. He’s the lawyer handling your case with Salo.” 

“Hello there, kiddo.” The man grasped his hand tightly and shook. “Nice to formally meet! Of course, your father and I have been in contact for a long time. Don’t worry, we have everything under control.”

Well. That was good. It wasn't as if he had to testify or re-hash anything he had been through. It was all recorded. 

“And this is M. Chevrolet, he works on the Board at Gabriel. One of the primary stockholders.” 

“We met when you were just a boy,” he clarified with a tight handshake. “But you were so busy with modeling, there was really no reason for us to chat. But now that that avenue is closed, I’ve been working on finding you a position in the company. One that wouldn’t require too much investment, so you can come home to your wife at night.” He smiled. “And well, since college isn’t in the future either, it might not be exactly lucrative, but you are a stockholder, as Gabriel’s son. Of course, you could always fall back into superheroing, if you think you could.” 

Was this man…mocking him?

“Adrien hasn’t ever specified if he was interested in college or not,” Gabriel said calmly. “But I do thank you for looking out for him. He and Marinette have been…apprehensive about the future.” 

“Oh of course they have.” 

That tone, no matter how well intended, made Adrien bristle. He didn’t have to take this. He didn’t need to be polite. 

He tapped his wrist, an indication he needed meds. 

“Alright, you can go back.” His father excused, absently. 

As Adrien turned to leave, he could hear M. Chevrolet say, “You know, he’s not going to get anywhere not speaking. He’ll be lucky if I can get him in as a janitor.” 

He hurried his paces back to the table, gnawing on his lip and trying not to cry. 

Before he got half-way there, a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist. 

He jumped, yanking his wrist free, and stood prepared to fight. 

A woman looked at him with shock and horror. “Oh my goodness! Mr. Agreste, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to get your attention.” 

Adrien relaxed into a stance a normal person would take. He then noticed there was a little girl sitting at the table next to the woman. The girl’s face was badly scarred, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

“This is my daughter, Adrianne.” The woman smiled. “She…she was in the same place as you. My ex-boyfriend owed that woman some money…and she took Adrianne as ransom. Because you and Ladybug escaped, the police were able to find her and bring her home. So…I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Thank you Chat Noir.” Said Adrianne. She was so quiet, it was almost lost in the crowd. But he heard it, and that’s all that mattered. 

Adrien crouched, getting eye level with the girl, and gently rested a hand on her head, petting her hair in a way that he enjoyed too. The girl smiled up at him, face full of respect and adoration. 

He mimicked the action of typing on a phone. 

“My phone? Uh, here…” Said the woman. 

Adrien put in his contact information, and whispered Adrianne, right in her ear. “If you need anything, just text me. Chat Noir and Ladybug will help.” 

Then, Adrianne’s subdued smile doubled, turning bright and warm. It warmed his chest, and gave him hope.

 —

Marinette kept on a firm alert. It was hard not to panic, with the discovery she had just made, but the fear twitched her fingers. She needed to find Adrien and get out of here, but she couldn’t give away what knowledge she’d learned. 

A man, just a table over, had a gun concealed. She saw it as he reached forward for a glass of water, and she was trying not to stare. 

But she did. 

A very rational part of her brain told her he was probably a police officer, and it was no big deal. But she had killed police officers during her rage, and their vow to protect and serve didn’t prevent thoughts of revenge. 

Once Adrien came back, she’d steer him towards the elevator, and they’d make a break for it. They had appeared. They didn’t owe anyone anything else. 

As she cast her glance over the room, she missed her target moving. “Uh, excuse me?” He asked. 

Marinette turned, wide eyed and horrified to see the man standing beside her. 

He knelt to get on her level. “Sorry, I Uh...I just wanted to check in with you. I saw you looking at my gun. I’m with the police. I’m here because I worked on your case, but I’m also on security.” 

Oh, she knew who he was. Now that she had a good look at him, she recognized him from the last time they met. 

“I stabbed you. At the Police station...I stabbed you with a lance...I killed you.”

“Yeah, you sure did.” He laughed nervously.

She shut her eyes tightly, swallowing the bile in her throat. 

“But,” the man continued. “So did Stoneheart, and Glaciator, and Siren, and Frozer. There were probably a couple others. Being on the force in Paris with Akumas is always a gamble. But, I’m back. Ladybug always brings me back.” 

“I’m sorry...” 

“I forgive you. I haven’t held it against any other Akuma, so why would it be different for you?”

“I...I just...” there was so much relief, she couldn’t find the words to say. She wanted to apologize for being suspicious of him. 

“I’ll be right over there. If anyone tries anything, we’ll handle it. I mean, of course Ladybug and Chat Noir are more than capable of handling anything...the chief just wants you to be able to relax. So, relax. Okay, Miss Ladybug?” 

Marinette allowed herself to take a calming breath and smile. “Thank you. I think I will.” 

It was only a minute or two before Adrien returned, looking less than happy. 

“Is everything alright?”

He didn’t respond to her question, but offered a hand out to her. 

She took it, and allowed him to help her out of her seat. He led her to the dance floor, and wrapped his arm around her waist while he held the other in his own. 

Then, he began to lead her in time with the music. 

“We’re the only ones dancing,” she commented astutely. 

“Yes. Everyone knows it’s rude to interrupt a dancing couple.” 

“Who’d your father want you to meet?” 

“Some rich assholes.” 

“Just as I thought.” 

Adrien guided her out into a twirl, and the band began to play just a little louder. Just for them. 

“There’s a little girl here, Adrianne.” Adrien said. “She was held prisoner like us. You should say hi to her when we get the chance. I gave her my number, in case she needed anything.” 

“I’m glad. I would like to meet her.” A quick turn, and her long skirt flailed outwards in a glittering pinwheel. “There’s security guards here with guns, in case anyone tries any funny business. I was told we could relax.” 

“I am relaxed,” Adrien assured. “This is the most relaxed I can get nowadays.” 

“I feel the same.” 

“But I feel better here with you.” 

“Because I’m tough and I’ll kick anyone’s ass?”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “Exactly.” 

The band lulled into something a little slower, to Tchaikovsky’s Valse Sentimentale, so that Adrien could bring her a little closer, chest to chest. The slow pull of the strings allowed them pause, to hold each other without anyone thinking it was anything other than dancing. 

“Do your feet hurt?” He whispered. 

“No. Are you okay?”

“I’m wonderful, my lady.” 

“Good. We never got to have a first dance at our wedding.” 

“I suppose we can count this for now.” He hummed. “But I want a real wedding first. One that I’m happy for, and I get to see you in a pretty white dress.” 

“This is just practice then,” she amended. “So we can get used to dancing in front of people.” 

“I think our battles were a little like dancing, we worked in tandem all the time.” 

“When we weren’t getting tangled in my yo-yo.” 

“You got better. I secretly think you wanted to be close to me.” 

“Subconsciously, way deep inside.” 

“Glad I finally got you to admit it.” 

“Only to you, love.”

When they finally decided to sit back down, there was some faint applause from the room. 

“You guys are the definition of adorable,” Said Alya, as Adrien helped Marinette take her seat.

“Thank you. It’s fun dancing with a twirly skirt.” 

“I got it on video, if you want it later.” 

“Thanks Al.” 

From there, it was smooth conversation. Gabriel didn’t try to introduce anyone else to them, and Marinette actually found herself beginning to relax. 

The lights dimmed, and Mayor Bourgeois took the podium.

“Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, today we are here to pay respect to the heroes of our city, Ladybug and Chat Noir!” 

There was a resounding applause from the crowd. 

“There is no doubt of your strength and courage. Heroes you were, heroes you will always be. Know that every moment you suffered, we were right there with you, hearts breaking, and voices full of prayers. Hundreds of brave men and women put their lives and families on the line to do what it took to bring you home. Tonight, we want to thank them for their hard work.” 

Marinette closed her eyes, a pain in her gut. Now she would come face to face with the numbers. All the people that died trying to save them? Or was she thanking all the people that failed?

By time she came out of her thoughts, there was a woman up at the podium. “…the brave men and women that were assigned to this case, that spent hours analyzing footage and clues to try and get a lead. It was the most exhausting case the bureau has undertaken to date…”

Marinette crossed her arms, but tried not to show her disdain. What was she supposed to say? Thanks for trying?

“Every day, our hearts broke a little more for our heroes…” 

She heard Adrien sigh behind her.

Soon, another man took the podium. This time, she did catch a name, Arthur Vanderguard, Minister of Interior. The last time she had seen him, he had been dangling off the edge of a building, Chat’s claws in his neck being the only thing separating him from a nasty fall. 

He looked right at them. “Marinette, Adrien, thank you for coming to our little dinner. It hasn’t been that long since you got out, about you’re both looking well. On behalf of the police department, the city of Paris, and France itself, I’m truly sorry for failing you.” 

That was not what she was expecting. These bureaucrats had all gotten up and talked about how hard it was for them, but patting themselves on the back for their hard work anyways. For someone, especially the Minister of Interior, to admit they failed?

It was unfathomable.

“We did try hard. But in the end, Hawkmoth had to step up to the plate. That’s humbling. Someone our city has been fighting for years in the one to fix our mess. We were fighting a war on both sides. The war to save the innocent, and the war to protect the ones we love. Your bravery and strength supersedes that of all of Paris. You endured pain we can’t imagine, even with the footage we saw. And when you escaped, you went out and talked some sense into us. Into me. I was afraid of Edward Savauge and Salo. And that fear prevented me from doing my job. But not anymore. Because of your actions, I and everyone once that were being blackmailed by them are free to do our jobs the way we’re supposed to. The way we vowed we would from the beginning. So, Ladybug, Chat Noir, I owe you an apology, and a sincere thank you. Despite everything, all your pain, all the trauma, you still managed to make Paris a better place. You truly are heroes, and I sincerely hope that you’ll continue to watch over us in one way or another. Thank you.” 

The apology washed over her like fresh water on a hot day. After what she had done to the officials of the city, she was certain she owed them one instead. She underestimated the effect Lady Lacrima had had.

Mayor Bourgeois was back at the podium. “Of course, there is one more person we’d like to hear from tonight. The foundation of hope in Paris, resilient, brave, and strong. The Lady of the hour, Ladybug!”

Marinette tensed up as the crowd clapped. 

“Did you know you were speaking?” Asked Alya. 

“No! No, I had no idea! I don’t know what to say! Alya—“

But a strong hand clasped her shoulder as Adrien stood, taking her place. 

“Adrien?” 

He just kissed her forehead. Then he tugged on Chloe’s pigtail and gestured to her to follow. 

“Err, Chat Noir, everyone!” The Mayor corrected, as Adrien made his way to the podium. 

He took the mic off the stand and handed it to Chloe. 

“What am I supposed to say?” She hissed.

He shook his head, and then went over to the grand piano, silently asking to have a seat. 

The pianist scuttled off, giving him the bench. Adrien moved Chloe’s arm so she was holding the mic in front of his mouth.

Then he began to play. 

Just a chord at a time. High, low, high, low. Slow, and droning. 

Then he began to sing, with a voice soft and full of the grit of silence.

So far from who I was

From who I love

From who I want to be

There were gasps all around the room, shocked to hear him not just speak, but sing.

So far from all our dreams

From all it means

From you here next to me

“Is this the song he was working on?” Whispered Nino. 

“I think so…” 

So far from seeing home

I stand out here alone

Am I asking for too much?

Watching his face, Adrien had closed his eyes, and furrowed his brows in concentration. He was putting everything into this.

So far from being free

Of the past that's haunting me

The future I just can't touch

His voice broke, not conditioned for singing, and so filled with sincerity.

And if you take my hand

Please pull me from the dark

And show me hope again

He looked up and over to Marinette, holding her gaze, like she was the only person in the room. And to him, she was.

We'll run side-by-side

No secrets left to hide

Sheltered from the pain

The song faded out with the final chord, and he stood. The applause was overwhelming, and he bobbed his head in gratitude. As he made his way back over to the table, Marinette stood to greet him, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Thank you for saving me, Kitty.” 

“I thought if someone was giving us the opportunity to speak, I ought to make it worthwhile.” 

Marinette kissed him then, right on the lips and unashamed of being seen by anyone.

The rest of the meal went smoothly. Marinette and Adrien were allowed to remain at their table, only occasionally being bothered by other guests, but mostly just basking in the fancy atmosphere and good company. Even Gabriel was on good behavior. Though he did occasionally sneak looks at Adrien throughout the meal.

--

It wasn’t until they got back to the bakery, Gabriel and Emilie included, that things took a turn. 

“Adrien, do you mind if I have a word?” Gabriel asked, as the rest headed upstairs. 

Emilie and Marinette both hesitated, and stayed just out of sight, eavesdropping. 

Adrien had a hunch he knew what was about to happen, and only clenched his fist to hold himself back. 

“Your behavior tonight was inappropriate.” Gabriel began.

Adrien’s nostrils flared, but he remained quiet. 

“You snubbed two very important people that only wanted to help you. It was not an appropriate time to dance with Marinette, especially since I had other people I wanted you to talk to, and you deeply insulted Mayor Bourgeois with that performance. He put on this dinner for you and Marinette, the least you could have done was thank him for it. Instead, you treated this like one of your high school parties. All eyes were on you, and consequently, all eyes were on me.” 

“I’ve heard enough!” Emilie snapped, coming around the corner. 

“Now dear—“

“Don’t you ‘now dear’ me!” She sent a perfectly manicured hand into his cheek. “How dare you, Gabe! Is this how you talked to him after I left? Is this normal for you?!” 

Adrien rested a hand on her shoulder. “Mom, I’ll take it from here.” 

Both Agreste’s snapped their jaws shut at his tone. At his voice.

Marinette peeked around the corner, just visible enough for comfort and support. 

“Father, I don’t need your criticisms anymore. I know perfectly well how to behave at an event. I left the conversation with your ‘important men’ because they were patronizing me. I didn’t appreciate it. I left in the most civil way I could, but I’ve been through too much to be treated like that. I’m not stupid, and I’m not weak. I’m just as capable as anyone else. Maybe more so.” He breathed deep, being spurred on by the attentive look on Gabriel’s face. He wasn’t angry, he was just listening. “I wanted to dance with my wife. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. No one else seemed to mind. And, that song I performed I wrote myself, in isolation. Marinette wasn’t prepared to speak, but I knew my song would convey everything that needed to be said.” He nodded once. “There. I explained myself. Are you happy now?” 

Gabriel Agreste didn’t smile. Not really. The closest he got was a slight twitch of his lips. And that’s what he did. “Yes. I am.” 

Adrien blinked. “You are?”

“Yes. Thank you for explaining to me. I misunderstood your behavior. I’m sorry I snapped at you.” 

Adrien almost cried then. Both from shock and relief. 

“It was a very lovely song, by the way. I think it did get the point across.” 

“Th…thank you, Father.” 

“You’re welcome.” He squeezed his arm. “Now come along, I believe Sabine is making coffee for us.”

--

Adrien’s song is ‘So Far’ by Olafur Arnalds.

[babbushka]

The Shape of You (1/12)

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren x Reader

You do a good job of it, staying out of the way. You’re quiet, you’re unsuspecting, you’re practically invisible; just the way you like it. Until one sunny summer day in 1962, the government base where you work acquires an unusual asset, and everything you know is about to change. In the race to save this lonely, desperate, beautiful man, loyalties are shaken on all sides – and the bonds of true love are tested.

11.4k, Warnings: Mentions of blood/injury

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

It’s warm, in the dream. Warm and black, in an all-consuming kind of way. You’ve had this dream before; it’s a comforting one, a familiar one. In it, you are surrounded by inky darkness, smooth and silky as it wraps around you. In it, you are walking through a grand expanse towards a light, red and glowing.

If you had not had this dream before you think you’d be terrified, think it an omen of some ominous kind. But the darkness is not something to be afraid of, you’ve come to learn. And when the red light beckons you, there is not a promise of evil on the other side, but rather one of liberating freedom.

You reach out to it, walks towards it. You’re in no hurry, in the dream, in no hurry at all. It’s patient, you find with relief as it seemingly takes eons and eons to navigate the soft velvet of wherever this place may be. As you get closer, little pricks of light begin to emerge, stars from a galaxy far far away. They twinkle as if they’re smiling down at you, and you smile back, unafraid.

You know how the dream ends; it ends the same every time. The jolt of your alarm clock bringing you back to consciousness, pulling you awake. You never seem to be able to reach the red light, but you aren’t discouraged by that – how could you be, when every time you have this dream you get closer and closer? When every time your hand seems to reach out a little farther?

It’s going to end soon, you think in the safety of your mind, in this little bubble you’ve built for yourself. The dream is going to end, and you’ll have to face the day, another day of being you, of being (Y/N). Soon enough you’ll get dressed and have breakfast with Armitage, your friend who lives next door, and he’ll complain about his students and you’ll complain about work only for a short while before you’ll need to go get ready to spend the next ten hours at the place.

It’s going to end soon, but that’s alright, because you know after those ten hours are up you’ll get to come home and hopefully, hopefully, have the dream again.

When you walk through the rich blackness of the void, when you approach the red light, this time you’ve gotten a step farther. This time you’ve reached your hand out nearly to the edge, nearly to the very edge of the red. It curls and winds around your hands like smoke, if smoke could be hot. It tugs at the tips of your fingers, wanting you to come closer closer closer, and you chuckle at its eagerness.

“One day.” You say sadly, in the dream. Or maybe you say it out loud, out in the real world too. You don’t know.

You live alone, so there’s no one to ask, no one to laugh at the way you talk in your sleep, if you do at all.

The red tugs on your hand again, insistent, but you shake your head with a sigh, you reclaim it because you have to, you have to or you’ll never wake up and then you’ll be late for work, and if you’re fired from this job then there will be astronomical consequences, consequences that you simply can’t risk.

The red seems to know this, and it’s almost as though you can feel it sighing too. It reaches out to caress your face, warmth seeping into your bloodstream through the gentle press of an invisible force against your cheek. You let your eyes begin to close slowly, savoring the feeling of the love of the universe, because that must be what this is, that’s why you’re not afraid.

As your eyes close, as the red begins to slip away, you think you see the silhouette of something – of someone, standing just on the other side of the light.

You snap your eyes open to try and get a better glimpse, because you’ve never seen that before in the dream, you’ve never ever seen a person standing on the other side, you’ve never seen anything solid and corporeal and real and –

You bolt upright in your bed, the radio crackling to life from across the room, its bright cheerful jingle alerting your brain to get the fuck out of bed and go turn it off.

“The only station for when you’re on the go, tune in to AM W-6-Z-O!” The swing singers coming through the speakers are loud enough to earn you a pounding on the wall, courtesy of your neighbor and one of only two friends you had, Armitage Hux.

“Christ (Y/N)!” Your friend says loud enough that you can hear him through the wallpaper, “It’s my day off can’t a man get some sleep?”

Your feet slide into slippers on the side of your bed, and you pad across the room naked to shut the radio off. You’re not really one for listening to all the commercials and commentary, preferring your vinyl collection much more than whatever taste some disc jockey thinks he has.

“Sorry Professor,” You roll your eyes sarcastically, “But if I have to be awake at this hour then so do you.”

It was the routine, day off or no, that you spend every morning together. Neither of you had anyone, no one to really call your own, and so you spend it with one another. It helps fight the loneliness that creeps into your soul sometimes, and even though he’s aggravated at waking up on a weekend, he still does with a hopeful, “Coffee?”

Smiling to yourself, you grab your robe and tie it tightly around your body.

“I’ll be over in five.” You check the time, before leaving your bedroom to brew up a big pot of Lyons standard roast.

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

Once the coffee has brewed and you’ve brushed your hair enough to look presentable for your friend, you make the short trip next door with hot percolator in hand, and a smile. A smile which, upon the opening of his front door, is not returned to you by Armitage, who instead looks like he may crave death or violence.

“Remind me again why we wake up at two o’clock in the morning?” He grumbles, his Irish accent thick from sleep as he abandons the door, leaving you to close and lock it behind you.

You follow him further into his apartment, a chic, mid-century modern space that looks very curated, very well thought out, very Armitage. He’s changed his design taste more times than you can count really, but for the past year it’s been the same; dark teal paint on the walls and ceiling, with matching teal-stained wood on the floors. His furniture and décor are all varying shades of rich orange to provide an interesting contrast that only gives you a headache sometimes.

“Because my shift begins at five, and it’s a two-hour ride to work.” You reply, fishing out two mugs from his cabinet in the kitchen and get to pouring you both a generous helping of coffee.

“I didn’t ask why you had to be up at two, I asked why we had to be up at two.” He huffs, gratefully accepting the mug with his cold hands, humming around a healthy sip of the brew.

“Because you love me.” You wink, setting down the coffee pot in favor for rummaging through his pantry, pulling out flour and sugar, “And you love the pancakes I make you.”

Armitage sets the table with plates and silverware while you begin to measure out ingredients and raid his fridge. It was a good setup you thought, you cooked breakfast and then abandoned him with all the dishes and cleaning up. You spent enough time cleaning, you always say.

“You do make damn good pancakes.” He complimented you as you stuck some butter in the pan to melt and sizzle.

“Any plans today Armie?” You smile at the immediate groan that escapes from between your friend’s teeth as you mix pancake batter into the perfect consistency to be poured.

“Yes, regret ever telling you about that nickname.” You can tell he’s scrubbing a hand over his face, the way he tends to do when he’s annoyed.

“Drink your coffee.” You tease, using a ladle to start breakfast properly. “I was thinking, when I get back from work maybe we can go downstairs and see the new film that Boris got, it’s a Fred and Ginger musical.”

Your apartment building wasn’t really an apartment building at all – or at least, it didn’t used to be. What were once storage rooms for the cinema downstairs had become single bedroom apartments nearly ten years ago, according to Boris, the friendly Bulgarian proprietor. When the cinema began to fail due to the rise of television, he sought out extra income and became a landlord.

This was perfect for Armitage, who, as a professor for film history at the university, had an immense love for the classic older films which were only ever screened on special occasions, or at special theaters. Boris knew this, and he acquired many old film reels from the 1930s and 1940s, which he played during the week as a way to generate interest on otherwise slow days.

You paid your rent early, which had the added bonus of being on Boris’ good side, which in turn meant you got to see the movies for free whenever you wanted.

“Which musical, Top Hat or Swing Time?” He eagerly accepts the pancakes you flip onto a plate for him, before drowning it all in syrup and powdered sugar.

“The Gay Divorcee.” You tease with a grin, “Right up your alley.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Armitage rolls his eyes once again, although now he’s much less aggravated with coffee in his system and food in front of his face.

“Will you see it with me?” You put a hand on your hip, and he smile.

“Of course I will. It’ll give me a good excuse to finish grading these essays, maybe I’ll tell my students they can write something about the musical for extra credit – god knows some of these kids will need it.” He gestures to the pile of marked and unmarked papers on the other end of the kitchen table.

The stack that still needs to be graded is far taller than the stack of finished essays, and you wince when you read that the one on top of the stack has been given a D-.

“Which paper is this one?” You plate yourself some pancakes and sit at the table, making sure the stove is off and the plastic spatula isn’t anywhere near the heat where it could be left to melt.

“The midterm; an analysis and comparison of German Expressionism in cinema before and after the second world war.” Armitage sighs around a bite of the delicious breakfast.

You can’t help but shake your head fondly at your friend, that topic being so on brand for him. His father was a Navy General, and he had been even more patriotic than most. But while his father had big dreams for Armitage to follow in his footsteps, instead he became a professor, much more interested in researching and educating the new generation.

Still, he found ways to incorporate his love for the military into his love for cinema. It’s all propaganda anyway, as he likes to say.

“Show me the awful papers when I get back, we can laugh about it over lunch.” You smile as you dig in to the breakfast you’ve made, but he scoffs.

“Oh please! I’ll be crying.” He replies, a funny blend of deadpan and melodramatic.

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

Once breakfast was over, you kiss Armitage on the cheek and wish him a good day, before taking the warmed coffee pot back to your own apartment next door. Filling up two thermoses, you set them near your purse right by the door so you can easily grab them on your way out.

After breakfast you typically only have fifteen minutes to get properly ready for the day, but that was alright. Dressing never took very long, not when you were provided with a uniform. Sometimes Armitage exhausted you with his fashion shows; trying on every possible combination of sweater vest and tie he owned, asking for your opinion on new trousers. You loved having one less decision to make, especially this early in the morning.

The uniform was a simple dress made of a dark grey linen. It had accented cuffs on the rounded collar, short sleeves and hem in a darker grey, and two large pockets on either side which proved themselves immensely helpful. While not required, it was often encouraged to wear the provided apron, a white thing that’s gotten so soft and worn over the years from all the bleach baths you’ve had to give it.

And though the uniform may seem drab and boring to some, you adored the anonymity of it. You liked being able to blend into a crowd, to move unnoticed. It was imperative that as a cleaning woman you were out of everyone’s way, and any flashy attire would have certainly drawn unwanted attention. That’s not to say that many of the other cleaning women didn’t enjoy the attention – your own dear friend Gwendoline among them.

With the red scare, your boss had made a push to encourage individualism within his employees – he felt that everyone looking exactly the same and wearing the same was far too much like communism, and he’d be damned if he were anything like the Soviets. So things like scarves to tie back hair, pins or broaches, nail polish colors, and shoes were encouraged to be something you made your own.

The only one of these little pleasures you indulged in were your shoes, and your daily dilemma often consisted of which pair of short reliable heels you would be slipping your now stocking-clad feet into.

You were having one such dilemma now, looking at your wall of heels. Another perk of living alone, you think to yourself, no one there to tell you to get this obsession under control.

In honor of the dream you were once again so lucky to enjoy, you picked a pair of red kitten heels off the top shelf and put them on as you hopped across the living room, grabbing your dashing out the door.

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

The world is so quiet, this early. Not completely silent, as it were, because there were always people like you, always people having places to go and friends to meet. Living so close to the Vegas Strip was interesting, and you saw all sorts of people on the sidewalks and in convertibles, driving around in the dark with their sunglasses on because they think it makes them look cool.

As you descend the steps which lead out of the apartment, you are stopped by the familiar sight of your landlord up on a ladder, arranging letters on the bright marquee sign surrounded by golden lightbulbs.

“(Y/N)!” He calls to you with a hand up waving, “Good morning dear!”

“Good morning Boris, you’re up early.” You call back, making sure to be loud enough that he can hear you with his old ears. His hearing has been failing him lately, and you do your best to help him when you can.

“Early or late, eh? Will you come to the screening tonight?” He laughs heartily as he gestures to the big black letters which read the name of the musical.

“Of course I will, I’m bringing Professor Hux along – he’s going to encourage his students to come this week.” You tell him, and he gasps.

“Students! He has big class, yes?” Boris’s excitement is contagious, and you find yourself grinning.

“Yes, nearly one hundred and fifty eager filmmakers.” You inform him, and the news shocks him so much that he nearly falls off the ladder.

Thankfully he has one of his sons, a nice young man named James, holding the ladder steady. You always wonder why James isn’t the one up on the ladder, since he’s clearly in better shape, but then you remember this is Boris you’re thinking of – he’s the kind of man who doesn’t trust anyone to do anything the right way.

“One hundred fifty! When you come tonight, you get free popcorn, okay?” He is giddy, and you feel good to have made his day a happy one.

“Okay Boris, I really must go now.” You see the familiar headlights of the city bus turning the corner, so you give him another wave, “I’ll see you this evening.”

“One hundred fifty…did you hear that?” Boris is in awe, not having had so many customers in a long time.

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

It takes three buses to get to work. When they had been looking for a place for you to live, you had insisted that there be a bus station as close as possible because if you were going to be spending ten hours on your feet, you wanted as short of a distance from the stop to your front door as possible. You don’t mind the two hours each way, you don’t mind the long grueling hours – but you sure as shit were not going to take any extra steps in your heels if you didn’t have to.

The bus comes at exactly three every morning, and it’s the same bus driver every time.

“Good morning Miss (Y/N).” He greets you, a kind older gentleman who probably needs his sleep more than even Armitage did.

“Good morning Mr. Henry,” You reply, taking a seat up front so you might talk to him and keep him company on the drive to the main bus exchange station. “Did you have a good evening?”

“I surely did, there’s nothing better than getting to go home to the Missus.” He gives you a dreamy-eyed smile through the rear-view mirror. “It was her birthday last night, I took her out to dinner and a show.”

“Mr. Henry you are such a romantic.” You lean your head against the window, using your small hat as a pillow to shield yourself from the cold rattling glass. “Where did you take her?”

“Circus Maximus in Caesars Palace! Damn what an evening. We only just got back home an hour or so ago, and I wanted to take off the morning to get some rest into these bones, but my boss didn’t take to the idea too kindly.” Henry shrugged, making you frown.

You wish you could encourage him to stand up to his boss, but with racial tensions as high as they were, you didn’t want to see your friend get hurt, or lose his job. Henry had been driving this route ever since you began working out in the desert, and you thought of him as a highlight of your day, a friend even if you only saw one another for the short time you did.

“I hope you have a fast shift today and that no one gives you any trouble.” You tell him honestly, only ever wanting the best for Henry. You’d offer him some of your coffee, but he’s got a thermos of his very own up at the front of the bus.

“Seeing your smiling face certainly does help, Miss (Y/N).” His eyes glimmer when he asks, “Now tell me, anything interesting going on where you work?”

You chuckle and shake your head, staring out the window as the streetlamps blur together, cutting through the dark.

“I’m afraid not, or if there were, I wouldn’t know anything about it, I just clean.” You say.

“Don’t be so down on yourself, we’re the ones they don’t ever suspect, isn’t that right?” Henry asks, and when you look back at him, he’s got a smile and that mischievous look in his eye again.

“Yes, it is.” You reply with a smile of your own.

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

More and more people get on the bus as it visits the various stops, until it’s almost packed. You used to be so surprised by that, by the way so many people seemed to wake up before the world was ready, before the sun had even begun to stretch and blink away the night. But that was Las Vegas, you supposed, almost like New York City in a way, with all the casinos and hotels and shows. Sometimes it felt very much like you lived in a parallel universe, where day and night were reversed.

You thank Mr. Henry and give him a warm parting smile when the bus finally arrives at the transfer station. Everyone follows suit as they exit, and it makes you feel a little brighter to know that people are willing to be polite if only someone would set the precedent. You’re more than happy to set that particular precedent, every time.

From Mr. Henry’s bus to the next takes nearly five entire minutes, between the length of the bus station and the busyness of the crowd. You always come close to missing it, and you’re always out of breath from running. Thankfully though, you have Gwendoline to look forward to every morning, your friend who always saves you a seat on an otherwise crowded bus, always looks out for you otherwise you’d have to stand for the next hour, holding on to overhead bars that you can’t quite reach.

“Hey! Come on, what do you think you’re doing?” One of the other passengers complains when Gwen spots you and offers you the seat next to her at the back of the bus.

You both always took the very last row, because you were the very last stop on this particular route before it swung back around to the transfer station.

“You’re getting off in ten minutes you can deal.” Gwendoline snaps back, and the woman rolls her eyes, adjusts her grip on the handrail.

“Thank you.” You snuggle up against your friend on the crowded bus, your laps now filled with your cardigans and purses.

You met Gwendoline on your very first day at work, completely by accident. You were in the wrong place, lost and confused, and had stumbled across this gorgeous blonde woman who wore bright red lipstick that smeared around a sneaky cigarette. She had helped you, and you’d been inseparable at work ever since.

She isn’t very much older than you, but she has that worldly quality that makes her feel wise beyond her years, and gives her an authority over people – even strangers – that you find endlessly amusing.

“Henry was cutting it close today.” She comments, looking at her watch.

This bus departs the transfer station on the half-hour, and does not come back until the next half-hour. You’ve never once missed it, but you certainly have chased it down to get it to stop and pick you up.  

“No, it’s not his fault, I think one of the other routes is down so people were confused and no one knew where they were going.” You point out the bus window to the people nearly swarming like bees around the poor people in the ticket kiosk.

“Fuck, really? It’s too early for that.” She looks nearly offended, as if to say, how dare the world be so difficult.

“I agree.” You reply to both her words and her look, and take one of the thermoses out of your purse, offering her, “Coffee?”

She plants a big kiss to your cheek and warms her hands on the thermos before bringing the thing up to her lips for a long deep gulp. You hope that the thermos has done a good job keeping the coffee hot, because you know how much of a bummer warm coffee can be for some people, but your worries disappear when she happily sinks into her seat on the bus and smiles, content.

“You’re a saint, (Y/N), you know that?” She clutches the thermos to her chest, and you grin.

“It’s the least I can do.” You reply, because it’s true – with all she does for you, you’re more than happy to return the favor for your friend.

“Cards?” Gwen pulls out a deck from her pocket, and you light up at the sight of the bent and beat up deck.

“Cards.” You agree, the two of you twisting towards one another, shuffling and re-shuffling the pack before dealing them out onto your laps.  

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

When the last of the passengers have gotten off the bus, the driver pulls over onto the side of the road, letting cars whizz past on the interstate to your left. The sun still hasn’t made her debut yet, and the driver has turned the lights off, so that the bus might blend in to the darkness a little better.

“Identification?” He asks, like he does every morning.

There is a reason you and Gwen are the last two passengers every morning, a reason why this is such an important bus to catch.

You and Gwen don’t bother getting up from the back of the bus, not feeling in the mood to walk all the way up front to only go right back, so you fish out your ID cards and flash them long enough that the bus driver can see them in the rear-view mirror.

“Thank you ladies.” He says, much less like a robot this time. “I know you’re you, it’s just protocol.”

“You ever wish you could say ‘fuck protocol’?” You ask, and he regards you, not-unkindly when he replies,

“All the time.”                                                                    

The bus roars to life once again, now that your clearance has been checked for the first time of the day. It’s a much more scrutinous process at the next bus stop, one you’re always a little paranoid over but prepared for. Bag searches, identification card and number, finger scans, the whole works. Four-thirty always seems too early for that sort of thing, and sometimes you wonder if you’ve accidentally brought something in that could be deemed dangerous, that they’ll randomly find some reason to haul you away.

The desert is dark and stretches on for miles and miles with nothing to see, nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, should one need to. You hope you never need to.

Gwendoline always makes fun of you for it, but it’s all in jest. She tends to give attitude to the security guards at the bus station, but she gets away with it because she’s a bombshell. She may be just a maid, just a cleaning woman like you, but damn does she fill out her dress nicely.

“Have a great day ladies.” The bus driver says once the hour has passed, and you and Gwen have gone through ten rounds of card games, leaving you the winner this time.

“See you tomorrow.” You reply in unison, making one another laugh at your timeliness, jinxing and double jinxing one another, demanding bottles of Coca-Cola as payment.

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

This bus station, much like your work and your job, doesn’t…technically…exist.

It’s a small little depot in the middle of the desert, armed guards at every door and gate. You join the pool of other employees, when you get off the bus and pass through the first gate. No one is allowed to drive their cars onto the main site, everyone – no matter rank or position – has to shuttle in from this station.

It’s always so interesting seeing everyone here, milling together and scanning their badges. You’re sure it must be a humbling experience for some of the managers and heads of department, being treated the same as the sanitation workers, but if they’re upset about it they don’t show it.

You get your pat down and walk through the metal detector while security inspects your lunch.

“Don’t you ever get tired of eating the same thing?” One of them, a young guy who is usually in good spirits, asks.

“If you want to come over and pack my lunch for me, I’d be happy for the variety.” You joke, giving him a playful wink that makes all the other security guards whistle, as you clear the metal detector with a green light.

“Don’t go giving him any ideas, (Y/N),” Gwendoline harmlessly flirts with the guy, “I might want him to toss my salad instead.”

This makes them all whistle and jeer, hoot and holler and laugh and Gwen laughs back, snatching your purse and hers back from the metal table. Some of the other employees catch ear of the conversation and they shake their heads with incredulous smiles of their own, but neither you nor Gwen really care – what’s the point of working if you can’t have a little fun every now and again?

There’s no room for playing cards on the shuttle, not this time. The small bus isn’t jam packed like a tin of sardines the way the public city buses are, but still there isn’t an empty seat, no real luxury for spreading out. That’s fine though, you think, as you shift into your professional attitude, start thinking of all the things you’ll have to do today.

It’s Sunday, and that’s a good day, a strong day, you think. It’s usually barebones crew, only the most basic staff that needs to be there. In fact, it’s usually mostly cleaning people like yourself and Gwen, getting the place ready for full operations to commence Monday morning. Of course there are still all sorts of scientists checking on their experiments and engineers testing their inventions and the like, but on the whole, Sundays are easy days.

They wax the floors on Sundays, so you know you’ll be doing quite a bit of sweeping scrubbing mopping for most of the shift. The building is huge, but more than that it’s sprawling, like a maze almost in the way that it’s constructed. That’s purposeful, you know, but in the beginning it seemed almost impossible to clean because everywhere you looked there was another hallway leading to another set of doors that all had tile and shelves and counters that needed to be taken care of.

Now though, now you were an expert at it, able to clean up even the stickiest messiest stains in twenty minutes or less. You prided yourself on your work, and always wanted to leave everywhere you went better off than it was when you got there. This job was important to you, vital, one might say.

The shuttle crosses through the gate in the desert, the gate which feels as though it has no ending, chain link splitting through the sand. The large sign boasting RESTRICTED AREA NO TRESSPASSING nearly disappears into the purple of night, and you check your watch to make sure you and Gwen will be able to punch in on time.

“We’ll be fine, we always are.” Gwen sees you checking, and you roll your eyes.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes, it takes nearly ten to get all the way to the lobby.” You show her your wrist, but she only pushes it away, not bothering to look.

“Then that leaves us with five minutes for a cigarette.” She whispers covertly, and the two of you snicker together at her secret smoking habit.

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

The base never looks more imposing than it does like this, too early in the morning before the sun has come up, when there’s nothing but harsh fluorescent lighting flooding the desert. The buildings are brutal, grey cubes that jut angrily out of the earth, rock and sand cleared away for the lines of sidewalk that connect each area in Area 51 like a spider’s web of concrete.

Inside the lobby, people are busy busy busy, walking back and forth in all capacities. Some are wearing white lab coats, others are in suits, and others still are clicking their heels off to go do some typing behind their desks. Friends recognize and greet one another, strangers excuse each other they pass, and along the wall you and Gwen wait your turn to clock into work. The little hand proudly proclaims that you do have five minutes before you technically have to start, and Gwen gives you a devious little smile as you both walk arm in arm down to the ladies’ locker room.

You think it’s kind of funny, that all locker rooms look the same. Rows and rows of standard sized lockers stick out from the walls, creating little aisles almost. Gwen follows you to your lockers, which naturally are side by side, near the middle of the room. It’s perfect because it’s right near a window, and Gwen always cracks it just slightly so she can light up a skinny Virginia Slim and not stink up the place.

She’s not the only one who does it, but no one wants to get caught.

While she smokes, you stash your purse and lunch into the locker, grabbing your cardigan that you keep there at work and sliding your arms into it. It might be one hundred-degrees in the desert when the sun is up for the day, but inside the buildings they keep it at a chilly sixty degrees, and with all the water you deal with, the last thing you need is to be even colder.

“You got any plans tonight (Y/N)?” Gwen asks as she flicks her ash outside through the window, “I was thinking about going out to get my nails done when we finish up our shift.”

She glances at her cuticles, noticing the growth from the way the polish has begun to move away from her nailbed. You take a glance at your own nails, and while the invitation does sound enticing, you do indeed have plans.

“The Professor and I are going out to a movie, you should come with us! It’s not until the late evening, you’d have more than enough time to get a manicure beforehand.” You offer, making Gwen laugh fondly.

“You two and your movies, I swear. I don’t know anyone who loves them more than the pair of you. Why, I feel like you could both quote just about any musical from beginning to end.” She teases.

“Depending on the musical, we probably could.” You tease back, before you stand up and stretch the very last bits of sleep and laziness from your limbs.  “I mean it though, you’re more than welcome to come with us.”

“I’ll pass this time honey, but count me in for the next one.” She promises, and you nod. “You want a puff?”

She offers you the cigarette but you nudge her hand away.

“No thank you, you know me, gotta keep these lungs clear so I can recite scripts on command.” You grin, and she only stubs out the butt of it onto the concrete wall, before tucking the thing in her pocket so no one could find it in the trash and get her in trouble.

“And they say I’m sarcastic.” She huffs, tying her apron around her waist.

Mrs. Parker, a strict not but necessarily unkind woman, enters the locker room at five o’clock on the dot. Everyone stands at attention for her at the end of the aisles created by the rows of lockers, and she has one of her assistants pass out clipboards to each of the women in the room.

“Alright ladies, time to start the day.” Mrs. Parker takes her job very seriously, as she should. It was not common for a woman to hold a management position the way she does, and you’re proud to be under her instruction. “Boss says since it’s a holiday tomorrow if you get everything on your checklist done and signed, you can clock out early.”

“What’s the holiday?” One of the other girls asks, as a slight murmur breaks out among them.

“Presidents Day.” Mrs. Parker replies. “So thank JFK for a nice end to the day – if you get everything finished that is.”

With that, she and her assistants leave the locker room. Once the door has closed, the women all talk among themselves, eager for the prospect of getting to go home sooner than anticipated. For many of them, their weekend is just beginning, and the thought of having more time to catch up on sleep or whatever else they want, is exciting.

Neither you nor Gwen have your weekends yet, and though the holidays may apply to everyone else, the two of you will still be expected to come into work the next day. There are different levels of clearance even within maids, you’ve found, and yours are some of the highest, which means you get to clean some of the most sensitive parts of the base.

For now though, Gwen reviews your clipboards. They’re always the same, because Mrs. Parker isn’t stupid and knows that you’re more productive together than you are apart. But still, she checks to make sure.

“I’m guessing we’ve just got floors to do today.” You say, adjusting your hair in the mirror.

“You guessed right.” Gwen nods, flipping through the pages. “Where should we start, the display room, communications, or the lab?”

“Makes the most sense to do it in that order, actually. I don’t feel like back-tracking.” You say, and she’s inclined to agree.

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

It’s not really called the display room. It’s got a proper name like everything else, D-3449 Exhibition Hall. This is one of the rooms that they bring all the important people to, it’s like a museum of sorts with pieces of new technology sitting on pillars and pedestals, large air craft suspended from the ceiling.

It’s more of a hangar than an exhibition hall, especially with how empty it is. The only people inside are the armed security that stand by the door, but they don’t speak. They’re instructed only to watch over the technology and that’s it.

“You would not believe the time I had trying to get new hubcaps for my car,” Gwen says as she slaps her wet mop against the marble tile, pushing suds around and scrubbing at the floor, “Remember how that piece of shit swiped my side and scuffed them something fierce? Well I figured I’d drive myself down to the dealership and ask their auto shop to replace it, and I inquired about any new designs. You know how they’re always coming out with new designs.”

“Did you ask for chrome?” You’re on your hands and knees with a little scraper, someone had tracked gum into the hanger and not bothered to wipe it up. It had hardened and now practically needed to be chiseled off the damn tile.

“Of course I asked for chrome, and do you know what the sleezy man at the dealer told me?” Gwen puts her hand on her hip, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

“What?” You look up from the gum.

“He said men love women with chrome hubcaps, because they can see up her skirt through the reflection!” She scoffs.

“No way, that’s not real.” You go back to scraping, managing to get it all the way off in one blue sticky chunk that you dump into the trash at the end of your janitorial cart.

“Whether it’s real or not I wasn’t going to let it stop me, so I bought four new ones and had them put on.” Gwen says anyway, making you laugh.

“Gwen! You’re too much sometimes I tell you.” You shake your head, grabbing your mop and walking across the great big hangar to the other side so that you can mop that half. Though you are far apart, being the only ones in the room had its perks, and your voice carries when you joke, “This is why I don’t have a car.”

“Oh but you should get one, they’ve got all different colors and you can get ones with the tops that fold down so you can feel the sun on your face and – ” Gwen starts, unaware that you’re teasing.

“We live in the desert, the sun is always on our face.” You say as you’re careful to not box yourself in with the wet tile. “Besides, you only ever talk about how expensive your car is to fix, and how you have to fix it often. I’d much rather spend my money on other things.”

“Yeah like your shoes.” Gwen points to your feet, “Are those new?”

At the mention of your new heels, you strike a dramatic model pose.

“Do you like them? I saw them in the window and had to get them.” You beamed, showing the bottoms still mostly un-scuffed.

“Don’t tell me you’re breaking them in at work, your feet are going to fucking hate you for that.” Gwen whistles low, already feeling sorry for your ankles.

“My feet are going to hate me either way, might as well look nice.” You point out, and this at least Gwen understands.

 From the hangar you move on to the communications room, which is exactly as it sounds. It’s an open office floor plan, with desks in neat lines. Two men in headphones sit at each desk, fiddling with nearly a hundred different buttons and looking at many small screens. No one pays you or Gwen any mind as you go about sweeping the floor, collecting any dust or specs of dirt that had accumulated since you’d been there yesterday.

In fact, everyone is so engrossed in their work that you’re not so sure they’d notice if you started screaming and jumping up and down. They’re monitoring the soundwaves and frequencies across the planet, right there in this room. There are enormous satellites pointed towards the sky nearly a mile away, four different ones pointing in each direction, and the communications personnel listens in on what the satellites send to their headphones.

You have your big dust broom and are walking in one direction between an aisle of desks, and Gwen is walking the opposite way on the other side.

“Sometimes I wonder what in God’s name goes on in this place, but then I think, if I want to sleep at night, it’s better to not know.” Gwen whispers, voice kept quiet so that she can’t be heard over the noise of whatever the personnel are listening to.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You whisper back, “They’re keeping aliens down in the basement labs.”

“Oh not this again.” Gwen groans, before lowering her voice again and hissing, “There is no such thing as aliens.”

“You can keep telling yourself that, Gwen, keep telling yourself that.” You grin, entirely too cheeky to be serious. “Look all I’m saying is why do we have big satellites pointing to the night sky and people listening in every second of every day?”

“To intercept the Russians, hello!” Gwen says as though it’s fairly obvious, and you grin as you sweep because now she’s really going on a tangent. “This is the United States government we’re talking about, they’re not going to waste their time on fairy-tales and conspiracies from lunatics on the street.”

“Then how do you explain the UFOs that people keep spotting?” You ask, waggling an eyebrow.

“Just because some people don’t know what a damn airplane looks like, doesn’t mean it’s something from outer space.” She says, and you put your hands up in mock-defeat.

“You’ve got to admit it is a pretty good conspiracy though,” You continue to be playful and difficult, not because you believe in any of this bullshit, not for real. But because it’s so easy to rile Gwen up with this sort of stuff, so you make a face and say, “Little green men with big black eyes and three fingers on each hand, like in those low-budget horror movies.”

“If that’s what aliens are supposed to look like, then I definitely don’t want them to be real.” She rolls her eyes and finishes sweeping the floor.

 Your last stop of the day is the laboratory. It is deep underground, and requires two elevators to get to, so generally no one ever wants to visit, and no one ever wants to clean it. It’s not the most pleasant atmosphere to be, as there are no windows and nothing but steel doors as far as the eye can see.

You and Gwen have to scan into the lab using your ID cards, as the doors are bulletproof and heavy, a double sliding mechanism that moves slowly because of the weight of it. When they finally open, you’re confronted with a flurry of activity.

The normally peaceful lab is filled with people, mostly installation workers who are hooking up wires and pumps to a big fish tank that takes up most of the room. Your eyes widen in awe, the thing is massive and hadn’t been there yesterday, meaning the install workers had been there through the night putting it together.

They must have been working so hard that they had no qualms throwing all the packing materials for the hoses and wires and whatever else, right onto the floor.

“What the hell is this mess!” Gwendoline snaps as she pushes her cart through the open doors, you trailing behind. “Are you fucking kidding me, the trash can is right there!”

The men stop at the sound of her, and quickly scramble to start picking stuff up. They look like chastised young kids, being scolded by their mother, and that’s fitting considering how some of them barely look like they’re out of college.

“Sorry Gwen, we didn’t – ” One of them starts, but she gives him a glare that would have turned him to stone if he had looked any longer.

“No, I know you didn’t you never do.” She sighs, using her broom to sweep everything up, pushing it to one side so at least the majority of the floor is clear.

You assist her, throwing away all the plastic wrappers and sheets of card stock, breaking down boxes and sweeping up package insulation.

“What’s all this shit for anyway?” You wrestle a piece of foam board into the trash can on your cart.

“Yeah really, as if we don’t have a big enough fucking mess to deal with as it is – ” Gwen shoots the boys another glare and they all duck, embarrassed.

“Watch your profanity, Miss Gwendoline, and goodness lower your voice.” Your boss, Mr. Robert appears through the double doors just then. He’s one of those overly polite fellows, one of those people who says goodness gosh golly gee whizz. You can’t ever really take him seriously, but he’s in charge, so you do as he says, and so does Gwen.

“Sorry sir.” She casts her eyes down and returns to her sweeping, and you do the same.

“It’s alright, today is just a very important day.” Mr. Robert smooths his shirt down with his palms, before clapping his hands to draw everyone’s attention. “In a few moments, we will be welcoming a new team to our base. Accompanying this team is the most highly classified asset that we have ever obtained.”

Almost as if by magic, the thick steel walls slide open, revealing in a most dramatic fashion, a tall and thin Colonel, the only indication of his rank being a pin on his suit lapel. The man looks like a skeleton, with his high cheekbones and sunken in eyes, and his lips are stiffly frowning, so much so that you wonder whether his face would crack, if he were to smile. His hair is greying, but in a dignified manner, and it is well-kept, just as the rest of him seems to be.

Everyone in the room falls silent when his polished dress shoes click across the freshly swept floor, standing with their shoulders and chin squared, you and Gwen included.

“May I present Mr. Tarkin. He is the acting head of security regarding the Asset. His office will be next to mine in the administrative wing, should you have any concerns or are called for assistance. Mr. Tarkin?”

“Thank you Robert, your introduction is most welcome.” The colonel’s voice is exactly as you’d expect it, deep and gravely and more than a little sinister, although he gives a chilling smile when he says, “I have nothing more to add, other than the fact that anything you see here, anything at all, does not and never will exist. If you think you see something, hear or even smell something – you didn’t.”

“Is that understood?” Mr. Robert asks everyone in the lab, and you all nod.

“Yes sir.” You say in unison, cogs in the machine.

Suddenly, there is a commotion at the doors, as a team of armed security guards wheel in a massive steel tank. It looks like an iron lung, only bigger, far bigger. Everyone in the room is interested in it, but no one dare steps in the way of the security. It takes ten men on either side of the tank to move it into the lab, and though they certainly aren’t weak, they are visibly struggling with the Force of it.

It doesn’t help that whatever is inside the tank, isn’t happy. There is a harsh loud banging coming from within the steel, that low hollow echo as something pounds against it, bangs against it. You’re curious, so incredibly curious – you want to peer inside it, you want to know what it is. You’ve never seen anything like this before, never seen anything alive before. So far you’ve only come across planes and engines, never ever anything like this.

They’ve wheeled it in front of Mr. Tarkin, who regards it with pride. You wonder if he’s the one who found whatever is inside, or if he’s just in charge of it. Either way, whatever it is must be some raging feral animal, to make the kind of banging slamming pounding noise it’s making.

There’s a pain in your chest for it, for the creature, because certainly something that upset must be wounded, or frightened, or both. The security team steps away from the tank once it is securely in the lab, and they leave, filing out in two straight lines. The thick steel doors open, and before they close, Robert gives you and Gwendoline the cue to leave.

You nod, knowing when you’re officially just no longer allowed to be somewhere. You both gather up your carts and silently make your way out of the lab, passing the tank as you go.

Your intrigue gets the better of you though, and as you pass the tank, you stop briefly. There’s a window made of bulletproof glass, spanning nearly the entire side of the thing. Glancing into it, all there is to see is a bright blue liquid. You can’t really tell if the liquid is illuminated, or if it’s glowing on its own with some sort of bioluminescent quality, but either way, the blue liquid is too thick to see through.

You place a hand on the glass, using that as leverage to peer in closer without falling forward, when a hand pushes through the blue liquid and slams forcefully against the glass, jolting you back.

A flash of red fills the room. You blink and you are surrounded by the soft smooth endless velvet of blackness, the very same which populates your dreams. You’re close, so close, far closer to the red veil than you’ve ever been before, a hand outstretched, a hand reaching for you, before it –

As soon as it comes, the memory of your dream is gone, and you are being held tightly in Gwendoline’s arms.

“They need to leave, now!” Mr. Tarkin barks orders at your boss, but you’re already nodding, already racing to get your shit and get out.

You wonder if you’re ill – if you’ve had a stroke, if you’ve accidentally ingested some cleaning fluid. Nothing like that has ever happened to you before, and you can’t fight the shudders that wrack through your body, nor can you ignore the sweat that freezes across your neck.

“Yes of course sir,” Gwendoline says as she leads you and the carts out of the lab, pushing you bodily with concerned panic on her face, “We’re sorry, sir.”

You keep your eyes trained on the tank, as you leave. Your heart is beating faster than it ever has, and even as Gwen nearly shoves you into the hallway, still you crane your neck to look at the tank, still your eyes widen as you desperately try to catch a glimpse of something, of whatever that thing was.

Before the doors close fully, you see a shadow of something...the shadow...of a man.

Gwendoline races you to the nearest bathroom, and you feel as though you’re going to be sick. Had it been a hand? A human hand? Or were you officially just losing your fucking mind?

Was that really a person in the tank? Why would they keep a human being in a tank like he were some new fish at an aquarium? It must have been so scared, pounding on the tank like that, over and over and over and over – and you do get sick then, just because you still have no idea why you hallucinated in the way that you did.

“(Y/N)!” Gwendoline has a soothing hand on your back as you’re hunched over one of the toilets, all remnants of your lunch burning your throat as it comes back up in your panic, “(Y/N) talk to me what the fuck happened in there?”

“I don’t – I’ve never – ” You choke out, coughing with your face against the porcelain.

Gwen leaves for a moment, only a moment, returning with a paper cup and fresh water from the tap.

“Deep breaths, here, drink this.” She offers it to you, and you eagerly take it, gulp it down as you grab a fistful of toilet paper to wipe your face. She is so concerned, you can read it on her face, and she takes the paper from your hand to get the rest of your own sick off where you can’t see it. “Are you okay? Do I need to call the hospital?”

“Gwen it,” You’re out of breath, heart still beating so quick that you’re lightheaded. “I don’t know what happened I, I think I blacked out.”

“You scared the shit out of me, one second you’re touching the glass, the next second you’re almost falling to the ground. Would have hit your head on the concrete if I wasn’t there to catch you, but your eyes were wide open.” She says, and you frown.

“They were?” You don’t know how that could be, because you were dreaming, and you can only dream when you’re asleep, right?

“Yes, wide open but blank, kind of like those sharks, it was like you weren’t looking at anything in particular.” Gwen shakes her head and there are scared tears in her eyes, “I’m going to call the hospital – ”

“No,” You stop her, not wanting to have to deal with doctors and nurses for this, not when you don’t even know how you’d explain it. “No it’s okay. I feel better now, the water helped. I think I was just startled.”

“I’ve never seen you like that.” She whispers, “And I don’t want to again. If it happens a second time, I’m taking you and that’s not negotiable.”

You agree, and after you take a deep breath, you gesture to the bathroom around you.

“Since we’re here, we might as well clean.” You say. Clearly whoever was scheduled for this section of the hallway hadn’t gotten to it yet, and you didn’t want to face the world just yet.

“I’ll clean, you sit on the counter and just relax for a minute.” Gwen instructs, and you do as she says, hopping up onto the counter.

Gwen grabs a rag and a spray bottle and begins to wipe down the stalls, where she makes the mistake of looking up at the ceiling and groaning.

“Look at this, would you look at this?” She asks, pointing up. You squint but you can see the splatters on the cork ceiling tiles. “What were they doing, having a pissing contest up here? Isn’t this supposed to be the home of highly classified information and technology? Aren’t we supposed to have the best scientists and engineers?”

The door opens just then, and you immediately slide off the counter and adjust your dress, making way to grab your cart and leave. Gwendoline does the same upon the entrance of a man, as this is the men’s room, and though it’s your job to clean it, you are expected to give them privacy when someone is using the facility.

Especially when that someone is the Colonel, the new head of security regarding the new highly classified and top secret asset.

“No,” Mr. Tarkin says, as he approaches the counter, “No that’s alright, you don’t have to leave.”

He’s carrying something, a long baton made of black metal. He rests it on the counter and sets to washing his hands, using exactly six pumps of soap from the dispenser near the sink.

“Are you certain, sir?” You say, avoiding eye contact. “Our work can wait.”

“I’m certain. Don’t mind me, I won’t take but a moment. Please, carry on with your conversation, I don’t want to interrupt.” He waves it off, fastidiously scrubbing at his palms.

Once his hands are clean, he steps to the side and unzips his pants. Both you and Gwen quickly look away, embarrassed and in absolutely no mood to catch a flash of this guy’s dick. Instead, your gaze turns towards the baton, which seems to almost be humming there on the counter.

“Nifty little toy, isn’t it?” Mr. Tarkin catches you regarding it, and he smiles down at the baton like it were his newborn baby, fondness in his eyes that is incongruent with what it is when he tells you, “State of the art, high-voltage electric shock cattle-prod. But don’t tell anyone I told you.”

You and Gwendoline exchange a glance, what the fuck were they using electric shock on?

“I saw you both in T-4, didn’t I?” Mr. Tarkin hums, as he puts his hands on his hips and pisses right in front of you, “You’re the one who touched the tank.”

“Yes sir, I apologize, I don’t know what came over me.” You reply, trying your absolute best to not die of embarrassment and disgust.

“Humans are naturally curious, don’t worry. I’m just glad you’re alright.” He says, strangely sympathetic before asking, “Doesn’t it get lonely? The graveyard shift, I mean.”

“It gets quiet.” Gwendoline answers, strangely serious in her own way. She doesn’t like this man, you can tell.

Neither do you.

He hits the button on top of the urinal to flush and zips up his pants, making his way back to the sink.

“Well, hopefully things stay quiet – if you catch my meaning.” He winks.

“Yes sir, here.” Gwendoline offers him a hot towel for him to use when he’s finished washing his hands, but he doesn’t take it.

“Oh no thank you, a man washes his hands before or after tending to his needs. You can find out a lot about a man by the way he does it, what’s important to him. If he does it both times, it only points to a flaw in character, a weakness.” He explains with logic that makes no sense. “I think you’ll find I’m not a weak man.”

You find him a self-absorbed idiot, but you’d never say that out loud.

He picks up the baton, the cattle-prod, and exits the bathroom, catching the door with his hand before it closes fully and giving another one of those chilling smiles when he says, “It was very pleasant talking with you ladies.”

The second the door is closed, Gwen has her spray bottle and rag turned onto the door, scrubbing away where the man’s dirty hands have touched the steel.

“What a creep.” She mutters under her breath, and you hum out an agreement before gasping.

“Gwen, look.” You’ve caught sight of smeared blood, blood that had come from the baton itself. It was bad enough that they were electrocuting the creature, but now they were making it bleed too?

You and Gwen look at one another, and she just shrugs and hands you a rag too.

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

Some time later, you’re walking down the hall pushing your carts, reviewing the clipboard. Each and every task has been crossed off, and it was nearly only lunch time. Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly lunch time for the rest of the world, ten o’clock in the morning and all. But you were feeling good about it, thinking to yourself that if you can just hold on a little longer, you’ll be able to go out to lunch with Armitage when you get off the buses that will bring you back home.

Gwen is in an equally good mood, no doubt wishing that she could clock out early more often.

“I can see my own smile in these floors, we do such a damn good job, don’t we? Do you think Mrs. Parker will sign off on our forms so we can go?” She has a spring in her step as you both round the corner – right into Mr. Robert.

“(Y/N)! Gwendoline!” He looks frantic, looks terrified, is holding a napkin up to his face, mopping up the profuse amount of swear on his brow, “You need to come with me, now.”

“Sir, we were just about to pack up and leave actually – ” Gwendoline says, but your boss doesn’t care.

“Now!” He insists, and you have no choice but to follow suit.

Soon enough, it’s clear as to why.

Down the dark windowless halls and through the elevators you find yourselves in front of the lab once again, where there is a mess of blood all across the tile. So much blood in fact, that you’re nearly positive whatever has happened here has been fatal, because there’s just no way someone survived from this much loss.

Mr. Roberts scans in and the doors open, revealing an even bigger mess on the inside.

“You have exactly twenty minutes to get this lab spotless, do you understand me? Twenty minutes.” Mr. Roberts looks at you, and you nod, because you know you can get it done.

He leaves without another word, and the moment the doors close, Gwen groans.

“This is a lot of blood.” She states the obvious, grabbing buckets and filling them with water from one of the lab sinks. “You know, I can handle a lot of things. I can handle piss, throw up, hell, even shit. I can handle shit. But something about blood sets me off.” She shudders.

“Give me a bucket, the sooner we get this place mopped up the sooner we can leave.” You reach for one and she gives it to you.

You dump the entire bucket on the floor, and in the shallow wake of the murky water, a pair of fingers rolls out from underneath a large storage cabinet.

“No fucking way,” You gasp, bending down to pick the appendages up, “Fingers.”

“Fingers!?” Gwen covers her mouth, fully disgusted. “Okay, you stay here, I’m going to get Robert.”

The moment the steel doors close behind her, you sigh. What could have gone on here, you wonder, to have Robert in such a state? And the fingers, well clearly they had to belong to someone, which meant the blood had to as well. But there had been blood on Mr. Tarkin’s baton, the cattle-prod whatever he wanted to call it, hadn’t there?

Your stomach sinks at the thought that whatever the creature Mr. Tarkin has captured, bleeds just like all of you.

A low dull thunk comes from the tank, and you turn around slowly to face it.

Against all your better instincts, you turn to face it.

Where the tank was once empty, now there is something pushing through the fluorescent blue, something making its way closer to the glass. It is not screaming this time, nor is it banging its fists on the walls of the tank, and you drop the fingers, one hand outstretched.

You approach the glass, heart pounding pounding pounding, blood rushing in your ears, because it is a man, from what you can tell.

It’s not clear, not perfectly clear inside the tank, but you see a head and a wide torso, long thick legs and strong arms. He’s wearing some sort of breathing mask which obscures his face almost entirely, an apparatus that reminds you very much of the kinds that scuba divers wear, and he’s got a heavy looking metal collar clasped tightly around his throat.

It looks like a shock collar, but you’re not sure, you’re not sure of anything.

Though it is hard to see, there are definite wounds marking his body, fresh ones that speak to the blood all over the floor. You suck in a breath and just as you had done earlier, you place a hand against the glass of the tank.

This time when he – because it is a he and not an it – puts his palm against the glass from his own side, you don’t black out. You sigh with relief, and take another step closer to the glass, trying to get a better look at him when –

“Right this way Mr. Robert, yes two fingers.” Gwen’s voice carries into the room as the doors open for her and your boss.

You quickly yank your hand away from the tank and turn towards them, about to beckon her forward to show her the man in the tank, but when you look back through the glass, it’s empty. Nothing but the blue liquid as far as you can see.

In your pocket is a brown paper bag and you stuff the fingers inside it, folding the top down like a lunch parcel.

“Where are the body parts?” Mr. Roberts sweats, nervous nervous nervous.

“Here sir,” You give them over, explaining when he looks confused, “I’ve wrapped them for you.”

“You both can clock out and go home, I’ll sign your lists personally.” Mr. Roberts accepts the paper bag, and walks over to your carts where the clipboards rest nestled in amongst the bottles of cleaners and wipes. “And don’t worry about coming in tomorrow, the holiday applies to you as well. Go get some sleep.”

“Thank you sir! We very much appreciate that.” Gwendoline can barely contain her excitement at that.

“Well I appreciate you.” He stammers, genuinely grateful. “I don’t know anyone who can clean as well as quickly as you.”

He gives you a smile, and then rushes out of the lab with the paper bag, no doubt to the hospital.

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

Hours later, after you and Armitage have shared some lunch and you’ve bathed in the Nevada summer sun on your balcony, after the home cooked dinner he makes you and the movie you watch together downstairs at the cinema, when it’s officially late once again and Armitage is asleep in his bed, you slip into the hallway.

Careful to close your front door quietly, you tip-toe down the stairs at the end of the hall, the only real sound are the dimes jingling in your pocket.

There is a phone booth right on the corner, and no one pays you any mind as you step inside it, closing the glass door behind you. You drop the dime into the payphone, and when the operator tone buzzes, you dial the number on the rotary, memorized but never written down.

The line rings once, twice, three times, before someone on the other end of the line picks it up.

“She speaks to the earth with a loud voice.” You say evenly and clearly.

You look around, check over your shoulder, make sure that no one is watching or listening in on you, making sure no one is trailing you. When you find no such person, you relax a little.

“And the earth shouts back.” The man on the other end of the line finishes the code, before switching to his mother tongue and saying, “Go ahead.”

“They’ve got a hold of something,” You cannot refrain from letting some of the awe pollute your news, even in this language which feels thick in your mouth, your Russian sticking in your throat, emotional as you whisper, “Something incredible.”

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

Tagging some friends! <33  @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @heldcaptivebychaos  @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @taylovren-types @whiskey-bumblebee @riseofkylo @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker @mp938368 @hidingp @goodboybensolo @intrestellarsarah @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @mauvemountains @insanita @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @pinkmoontribe-blog @shyhairdocoloralmond @i-am-lokii-of-asgard​ @loud-binch​ @flapjacques​ @celiholland​

[coppicefics]

Masked Omens: Week Six

[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads ‘Masked Omens’.

Image 2 - A page from the Entertainment section of the Capital Herald, dated Saturday, 30th January 2021. Full image description and transcript below cut. End ID.]

Read the fic here!

The Capital Herald - Saturday 30th January, 2021 Entertainment, page 13

Top story (continued from facing page): -talk filming, fans and family with 'Three Card Monte' star -finished, and hotly tipped for several major awards come the season, what does Dame Angela have in the pipeline? She's tight-lipped, but the question makes her smile. “Naturally I don't want to give too much away – an actress must maintain some mystery lest the camera fall out of love with her – but I can tell you I have several options in mind, and some of them are very exciting.” But is it a question of which project to take on, or which to take on first? “Well, of course, there are no guarantees, but... yes, I imagine some of them will wait.” It's an unusual level of power for an actor to wield, but at this stage in her career Dame Angela is more than entitled to wield it. How does she feel about winning the showbiz game so spectacularly? “Oh, I feel as though I've been playing a game of my own devising, to which even I don't know the rules.” She laughs. “No, but really, I don't think I've ever thought of it as playing a game. I go up for the parts I think are interesting or challenging, and I've been fortunate enough to get them more often than not. Then, when the part is finished, I move on to the next thing I want to do. There's no strategy, not really, not on my part. Naturally, my agent might tell you something very different!” Having the right agent can certainly be the key to success in the entertainment industry, and Dame Angela has been with Derek Mette, of MetteTalent, for many years now.“More than I care to admit,” she tells me with a laugh, “Derek has been with me since the beginning, really. We're old friends, at this point – our families exchange Christmas cards every year.” Family can be a challenge for someone who's trying to keep the momentum of their career going, and Dame Angela surprised the world when she took a year out of acting to give birth to her son, Anthony.“Yes, at that time it simply wasn't done; one could have a career, or one could have a family. Especially since I was very much on my own with it all. But I was able to get back in front of the cameras quite quickly, and I wouldn't change things for the world. Becoming a mother made me a better actress, I think, because it opened up that whole range of experiences. The highs and the lows of childrearing.” In fact, Dame Angela starred alongside young Anthony in A is for Apple when he was only eight months old. He briefly followed in her footsteps after leaving school, and seemed set for similar levels of industry acclaim. But it all came to a devastating halt when he developed an addiction that led to him being discovered unconscious in his trailer on the set of The Grasswater Affair. He'd overdosed. “I don't like to talk about it,” Dame Angela says, her mouth downturned. “I found it very hard. But now, of course, he's been in recovery for many years, and he does his little plays all around the country. It's behind us, and I'd like it to stay that way.” A change of subject, then; what does she make of the rumours that she is currently performing as a costumed character on The Masked Singer UK? “On- I'm sorry, what's that?” I show her a clip on my phone. “Good heavens, no.” But isn't that exactly what she'd say if it was her? “Well, I don't know. I'd never even seen it until just now. But it all seems a little childish for my taste. I'm far too committed to my art to do light entertainment.” Time, it seems, will tell. But if Dame Angela is indeed a participant in The Masked Singer, she hides it well.There’s time for one last question, so I try to make it a good one. What, I ask, does Dame Angela consider her proudest achievement to date? “Oh, that’s a difficult question. I simply couldn’t choose... Naturally, becoming a Dame was a great honour, and not one I expected at all, which made it all the more precious. But then, the first time I won an Oscar was a real moment of pride, and one that’s never soured with time. And, of course, every award and every round of applause is a moment of pride for any actor; it means I’ve done the job, and done it well, and that it has been appreciated by the audience in front of me. What more can any actress ask for?” MARY HODGES Dame Angela Crowley’s latest film, Three Card Monte, is in cinemas from the 12th of February.

Centre right: OWAS to host ‘magic’ event Literary society’s next gala theme announced The Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society has announced the theme for its spring social event, which is to be inspired by all things magical. Famed far beyond its actual membership for its lavish balls and banquets, the society has in the past held events held together by motifs such as 'Luck', which took place in a casino, 'Snow', which included a trip to a ski slope, and 'Flight', during which all participants had the opportunity to glide above the dancers on wires. This time, the theme is 'Magic', and while details are still being kept tightly under wraps, it seems fairly certain that Aziraphale Fell, London's most celebrated stage magician and a long-time member of the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society, will be performing at the event. When the society throws open its doors each season, it's quite possible to go all night without seeing a single regular member of the club. While the organising committee is out in full force, soliciting donations from the wealthy patrons who attend the parties, and the society president stands up to make a toast at the beginning of dinner, it's largely outsiders who descend upon the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society's chosen venue. In fact, the scale and opulence of these events has led some to speculate that OWAS is not a literary appreciation society at all, but rather a shadowy networking opportunity for the rich and powerful. Indeed, at the 'Flight' event, it's rumoured that two world leaders met in the queue for the wire-flying and laid the foundations for a later trade deal between their nations. The society's everyday goings-on are, I'm told, far more pedestrian and literary. But - as the current president, Edwin Pearce, often says - “what's an Oscar Wilde society without a little hedonism?” There's altruism, too, however; the society makes a substantial donation to a charity chosen by the members each year. This year's charity has yet to be determined, but last year the children of the Wessex Street Hospital enjoyed a very special Christmas thanks to a £20,000 cheque from the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society. Much of the funds required to make such lavish events and donations possible are raised at those very events, which take place once a season. Tickets for the 'Magic' event have not yet been released, but previous events' tickets have sold for anything from £200 to £2000. A limited number of reduced price tickets are generally made available, so keep an eye on the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society's website at oscarwas.org.uk if you're looking to get in without breaking the bank. If The Amazing Mr Fell will indeed be performing at the event, it might explain his recent reduction in performances – his show has gone down from six nights a week to just four, eliminating his Wednesday and Saturday performances. Magic fans in the capital can therefore hold out hope that once preparations for his upcoming performance are over, tickets might become easier to obtain. And, of course, the 'Magic' event itself promises to be one big avocado. CITRON DEUX-CHEVAL

Centre right: Drawing back the veil again Mystic Madame reportedly plotting TV return Two years after Drawing Back the Veil with Telepathic Tracy last aired, its old Saturday night slot is set to become vacant again – and rumours abound that the show may be set to return. For the last two years, live draws have been condensed into a fifteen-minute slot on BBC One, followed by an episode of one of the longer 45-minute drama series the BBC tend to favour these days. Much of the pageantry that used to go along with the weekly draw was shifted unceremoniously onto the National Lottery's YouTube channel or website, and the delivery of the actual results became more akin to the reading of a weather report before a return to the usual programming of the channel. Now, however, the BBC has put out a press release announcing that the National Lottery will now return to a half-hour draw show, allowing for 'a little more excitement and glamour'. This, the press release suggests, could take the form of a very brief trivia game before the draw, a return to celebrities wishing everyone luck before pressing the all-important button, a chance to showcase musical acts during the show, or some combination of the above. I'm all for a return to the showbiz nature of the nation's most mainstream gambling ring, but it's the shortening of the subsequent timeslot that has my attention. Already, just a day after the BBC's announcement, speculation is rife about what – and who – might be about to fill that second half-hour time slot. Most of the shows the BBC produces these days are designed for a 45-minute or hour-long format, and producers will be understandably reluctant to try to condense comedy, gameshows or drama into such a small space – especially given the National Lottery's occasional tendency to overrun. Pre-recorded shows have come unstuck before when the Camelot machines have jammed or some other calamity has befallen the draw, most notably in 2019 when the initial episode of Season 6 of Sherlock aired without the crucial first three minutes that explained the detective's cunning escape from the previous season's climactic scrape. It's the sort of situation that calls for a steady hand and an almost supernatural ability to adjust to disaster. Who better to take on the challenge than a woman who's had years of practice? Telepathic Tracy, the Mystic Madame, is very much still working her mysterious ways despite her departure from our TV screens – notably in The New Aquarian - and what better way to follow a disappointing lotto result than with the reassurance that this week, your luck will be better, or at the very least predictable? I, for one, predict Madame Tracy's triumphant return to television - and what's more, I welcome it. EDWARD BIGGS

Advertisement, bottom left: [Image Description: A grayscale photo of a warzone, with plumes of smoke. A smiling woman walks away from the destruction; she is in full colour and has artificially-enhanced red hair. Text is overlaid, as transcribed below. End ID.] When the news breaks, my hair doesn’t. Carmine Zugiber. Be bold. Be strong. Be Vibrant. [Image Description: The word Vibrant appears in red and is in a different font, like a logo. This is the case each time it appears. End ID.] Vibrant Flame Red Bottom right: Correction In Andy Sandalphon's column on page 15 of last Saturday's paper (23rd January), he stated that folk music made by an American is Country music. Several readers got in touch to explain that this is not, in fact, the case, and we would like to set the record straight. Country, or country and western, music is a very specific type of folk music, and while often associated with American artists, it is not simply the American version of folk. Furthermore, music must fit specific criteria to be considered country, and Anathema's does not. While country music belongs to the overarching genre of folk, not all folk music is country music, regardless of the nationality of the performer. We apologise sincerely for the mistake; while every effort is made to include only accurate information, errors do occasionally slip through. We regret the misunderstanding, and hope to do better in future. If you notice an error in any of our articles, please let us know as soon as possible by emailing editor@capitalherald.co.uk. We appreciate your help to keep our newspaper as accurate and factual as possible.

[End Transcript]

[jessicaroffe]

You know when you have an idea of ​​nothing and you share it with your friend and she tells you that the idea is very interesting? my friend and I had an idea of ​​what a crossover between Sherlolly and Good Omens would be like. We are still working on the chapters but I brought you something to get an idea of ​​what it would be.

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Between Heaven and Hell

1.

He placed the book in its respective space on the library shelf, sighed in satisfaction as he admired the shelf and saw it well organized, he was proud of his work and one of his greatest treasures; he heard the bell at the entrance of the establishment ring, walked to the free space he had at the entrance of the library seeing Miguel and Gabriel standing like real dizzy cockroaches, Aziraphale felt sorry for his brothers when they walked on Earth, as they did not know about human customs they knew how to behave and when they "tried" to deceive mortals it was very weird.

Gabriel spoke up -We came to deliver a .....

-Fanfic! -Michael added.

-Exactly, fanfic.

Everyone present at the place looked at the two as if they had mental problems, Aziraphale looked around in embarrassment.

-P-please come with me. - went to a reserved area of ​​the place, when Aziraphale confirmed that there would be no one around Gabriel started.

–We received reliable information that the incarnation of Eve and Adam are here in the city.

Such information surprised the angel, Eve and Adam were their first mission on Earth after they left and never heard from him again, the news was really unexpected.

-That ... it's ... it's good ... isn't it?

-Go if they come to the light side. -Miguel replied with pride talking about heaven.

-It was just that? -Aziraphale asked hopefully.

–Aziraphale, you as a good child of God must know that just as the actions of Adam and Eve had an effect in the past, they can have an effect again now, perhaps more drastically than before, there is a prophecy that says that if Eve is not influenced by correctly, chaos on Earth can occur and only the love of your life, Adam, can save you. –Gabriel added.

At that moment Aziraphale was already wondering why Gabriel and Miguel were telling him that, he was going to have to do something, he sure would.

-You have been here on Earth for a long time and have always been efficient in your work, we will give you the mission of making the two stay together, so that chaos does not occur, we had to take such measures, because the opposite side decided to act and interfere with the natural line of events and sent a demon to do the job. –Miguel explained.

-So I will be a cupid?

–What is a cupid? -Gabriel asked.

-Nothing, forget it.

–Anyway. -Gabriel snapped his fingers and a folder appeared in his hand. -We found out the whereabouts of the two and they are here in London, another reason why it was you, their names are Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes, all the details of them will be here.

Gabriel handed the folder to Aziraphale, before leaving the folder in full possession of the angel he warned him.

-We trust you Aziraphale. -The angel swallowed, a little terrified by the subtended threat, he knew that this mission was not just any one, peace on Earth depended on him which worried him, because if the punishments failed, they would be severe.

Gabriel and Miguel left the room and the first one shouted.

–Thanks for my fanfics!

Aziraphale leaned against a table he had there to process the information, what did he get into? He soon remembered that he would be fighting with a demon who would be there to disrupt his plans, he took a deep breath.

-I just hope that the demon is not Crowley.

_______________________

Molly promised herself that she would get back on top with her passion for Sherlock, she would move on and meet other people, she was never a woman to have many dates, she also didn't want to appeal to modern relationship apps, so she thought an agency that held meetings in the dark, made the registration by email, made its due demands regarding the person who would have the meeting, the man could be a little older, nothing more than five years older than her, who had a good musical taste, a good conversation, and was red, yes, red! Molly had even thought that the best way to forget someone who doesn't return their affection for her would be to cut off any resemblance to the next one, no dark brown hair then.

On the day of the meeting he left the office at Bart's and went straight home, he wanted to have at least a few extra hours to get ready calmly, this was his first date after he broke up with Tom, which in the case had been two years since do not go out with someone, I was not nervous, it was something different, perhaps an anxiety, I hoped that those who knew today could give you a thread of hope.

She chose a red skirt and a white blouse with cherries as prints, as it was summer in London, she didn’t need a coat or something, she did light makeup and styled her hair with a braid on the side of her head and her inseparable ponytail, picked up her bag and headed for the meeting place. On the way he wondered if it was the right thing to do, had he not given up on Sherlock more easily? He had already demonstrated a few times that he cared about his feelings, but she couldn't wait for miracles to come from him, there were times when she asked God to send her concrete signs that what she felt for him will one day be reciprocated “maybe not this time. life. ”, the chestnut thought a little discouraged.

Upon arriving at the restaurant where the meeting would take place, he introduced himself and asked the attendant if the person who booked the table with her had already arrived, as the establishment was a partner of the agency, all the attendants were already used to the routine of the place, he led to the round wooden table with a U-shaped sofa where an apparently tall red-haired man with dark glasses (who covered the entire side view not showing any crack in his eyes) then he saw Molly's presence and soon stood up .

"Hello!" Said Crowley excitedly. "You owe me company tonight," he finished by kissing Molly's hands.

- Hello, - he said a little embarrassed. - I'm Molly Hopper and you are?

- Anthony J. Crowley, at your service.

While talking Molly found Crowley very interesting, enigmatic with those sunglasses (which she really didn't know why he was wearing this time of night, would remind me to ask him later), funny, talking about things as interesting as if had lived thousands of years.

- So Molly, what do you do with your life?

- I'm a pathologist at St Bartholomew's Hospital.

- Wow. It must be a difficult job.- he said smiling.

- Until not, the dead are not the problem, the living that appear there wanting information or sometimes clues. Molly said and took a sip of the wine in her glass.

- And this guy would be a coworker or ex boyfriend ?!

Molly laughed at Crowley's questioning and shook her head.

- No, no, let's say he's more like a co-worker than anything else.

Well, if I can say something, he's an idiot. He doesn't really know what he's missing. ”Crowley smiled seductively and Molly bit her bottom lip and let a red appear on her face.“ I don't know about you, but here's boredom, come on.

Crowley got up leaving the money on the table, Moly was confused by his sudden action, but decided to follow him.

-Where are we going? Hooper questioned.

-You must spend a lot of time inside a morgue that doesn't do any good to anyone, let's have fun, do you dance?

"I'm not much of a thing," Molly said sincerely and found it too crazy for a first date in the dark.

- No problem. I'll teach you. Come on.- the redhead held out his hand to Molly who accepted.

Outside Crowley, he made his way to his car. Molly was feeling like a real adventure, a mixture of fear and excitement was running through her blood, she barely knew the guy next to her and they were already going to a nightclub, what if he were to traffic her? Or drug her and leave her on the street? "Stop paranoia Molly" Molly scolded herself in thought.

- So, how do we go to this nightclub you talked about?

 

- Let's go in my car. - The taller looked at Molly, at that moment curiosity hit her, she imagined what such a car would be like an ordinary car like all the others, but when Crowley approached a Bentley Molly she couldn't help but show surprise! - Then? What did you think? - is leaned against the car.

- He's very, very different.

- Is this different good or bad?

- It's a very good different. I never rode such a model.

- Feel free, miss. Crowley opened the door and pointed into the car like a real gentleman.

-Thanks.

As soon as he closed the passenger door he went around and got into the driver's side.

“So where's this club at?” Asked Molly.

- Stay in Soho, I discovered this place a few years ago.

- Hmm looks cool.

Upon arriving at the nightclub that was packed with songs from the 70s and 80s and with all the themed decor of those decades, with lights, a dance floor and everything else that was entitled to a themed nightclub.

Crowley took Molly's hand and led it to the center of the floor where he was playing “Night Fever” by

Bee Gees and making a few steps the redhead approached as if calling to join him in the roar of the music.

- Wow, I ... I like to take a few steps but I'm not much of a thing.- Molly said sincerely and found it very crazy for a first date in the dark.

- No problems! I teach you! Come on.- the redhead held out his hand for Molly to rise from the table.

Crowley insisted on paying the dinner bill and then headed out of the restaurant.

- So, how do we go to this nightclub you talked about?

 

- Let's go in my car. - The taller looked at Molly, at that moment she did not know what to expect, imagined that it would be an ordinary car like all the others, but when Crowley approached an old car model Molly can't help but show surprise! - Then?! What did you think? - is leaned against the car.

- Wow! He's very, very different.

- Is this different good or bad?

- It's a very good different. I never rode such a model.

- Feel free, miss. Crowley opened the door and pointed into the car like a real gentleman.

-Thanks.

As soon as he closed the passenger door he went around and got into the driver's side.

“So where's this club at?” Asked Molly.

- Stay in Soho, I discovered this place a few years ago.

- Hmm looks cool.

Upon arriving at the nightclub that was packed with songs from the 70s and 80s and with all the thematic decoration of those decades, with lights, a dance floor and everything else that was entitled to a themed nightclub.

Crowley took Molly's hand and led it to the center of the floor where he was playing “Night Fever” by

Bee Gees and making a few steps the redhead approached as if calling to join him in the roar of the music.

It was not possible to notice that they were being watched by a certain consultant detective who was sitting on the other side of the establishment.

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

The question now is this ... Does this fic have a future? I'm dying to know your opinion.

[itsclydebitches]

A fifth of the way through! Who’s proud of me? :D

Noisy - After a certain seance Aziraphale is feeling insecure about how much he talks.

Aziraphale was speaking.

Had been for the majority of their meal, pausing only to take bites of the Norfolk crab with ossetra caviar, veal fillet with asparagus in a wild garlic sauce, chocolate and hazelnut mousse for dessert with a second order of the fruit sorbet because he hadn’t been able to decide and really, why not both?

Why not both?, Crowley agreed. He adored watching Aziraphale eat. All those quirky mannerisms that positively screamed his personality for all to see. The way he would slide each fork-full from his mouth with agonizing slowness, ensuring that he’d picked up every morsel from between the tongs. Raising his napkin after every fourth or fifth bite, whether there was a mess to clean up or not. Aziraphale went deathly still when he ate, as if he couldn’t bear to distract from the taste with any unnecessary movement. Except when he’d taste something new or unexpected and then it was all wide-eyed surprise; that absurd little wiggle. Aziraphale flipped his spoon before taking a bite because, “The mousse should hit my tongue, dear, not the roof of my mouth. Obviously.”

Obviously. On nights like this Crowley was grateful they hadn’t had to keep up their ruse any longer. One look at Aziraphale-as-him digging into that popsicle and the whole jig would have been up.

And Crowley could never hope to re-create this.

So yes, he loved watching Aziraphale eat. He loved hearing him speak more though.

Why not have both?

“So I told the dear girl—quite firmly, I should say—that we would have to undergo a true apocalypse before I gave her those sigils. Hell would need to freeze over and such. Though I suppose you could manage that if you put your mind to it.” Aziraphale took another bite of his sorbet and dropped a wink that sent a flush rising up Crowley’s neck. “Anathema is a brilliant young woman but really? Giving her access to Enochian symbols? I can only imagine the horrors that would produce! And trust me, dear boy, I have quite the active imagination.” Another bite; another flipped spoon. “She swore she only wanted to study them, but if any mortal is capable of sketching out a true celestial circle it would be that witch. Then where would she be? Accidentally killed, that’s what. Or worse, getting through to them! Can you imagine Anathema summoning Metatron into that little cottage? No, no, no. We’ve had quite enough upheaval for one millennium, thank you.”

Crowley had long ceased trying to get a word in edgewise. In truth he didn’t want to. Six-thousand years together, but so little of it spent together. They’d meet randomly or clandestinely and it would never matter which because they knew it could only be for a brief moment or two. One side could always be watching them. Both, even. And it took Crowley decades to realize how much of that precious time was just spent posturing. Aziraphale feigning shock at their latest arrangement. Crowley pretending like that actually annoyed him. They had their routines down, a script they read from, and though Crowley had learned to love that for its familiarity, he hadn’t realized just how much he’d been missing. Hearing Aziraphale wax on about oysters or give summary accounts of Hamlet couldn’t compare to this: hours upon hours of meandering, casual thoughts.

Crowley settled his chin further into his hand. Beneath the table his free fingers circled in a clockwise motion, a bit of extra energy spent on slowing down time. Nothing terribly noticeable. It wouldn’t even affect the humans. Much. Just a devilish little miracle that would give Aziraphale more time than what the real world had to offer.

Because they’d been sitting here four hours now and Crowley was fully prepared to sit another four.

“What do you think?” Aziraphale asked. He downed the rest of his La Grande Année and smiled over the rim of the glass. Like he somehow knew that, whatever Crowley’s answer, it would be well worth knowing.

Problem was, Crowley hadn’t the faintest idea what Aziraphale had just said.

Hmm. Distraction via flipped spoon. It happened. Not that there was much danger here. Aziraphale had the distinct talent of being able to talk about a single topic for hours—if not days—on end. Always easy to slide into.

“Really, angel? Giving me a say?” Crowley pushed his own, untouched tart across the table. “I thought you’d already made up your mind about the witch?”

He’d meant it as a bit of light teasing. Poking fun, making jokes, being a nuisance and all that. So watching Aziraphale’s expression fall took the breath right out of Crowley’s lungs.

“Oh,” he said, voice suddenly soft. “Yes. I have been prattling on, haven’t I?”

And Crowley, in a moment of incredible insight and sensitivity said,

“What?”

Aziraphale had been reaching for the tart but now drew his hand back, beginning to fiddle with the edge of his vest instead. “I’m terribly sorry. Rather rude, isn’t it? All things considered. I promise to make more of an effort in the future and you must stop me if I suddenly start rambling once again. You deserve to—” Aziraphale’s mouth suddenly clicked shut, eyes popping wide as he realized what was happening. Crowley could see his jaw working for a long moment. “I want to hear what you have to say too,” he said. Simply.

Meanwhile, Crowley’s elbow had slipped off the table and he nearly took the rest of the food with him. When he came back up there were splashes of champagne on his sleeve.

“I—why—?” Crowley tugged his glasses just low enough to take a good, long look. “I haven’t got anything to say.” Which wasn’t true exactly. Plenty of ribbing to indulge in when it actually managed to land, but right now Crowley had bigger fish to fry. Flay ‘em, cook ‘em, and serve 'em up with lemon butter so his angel would actually smile again. “What precisely are you on about?”

Aziraphale shrugged. He never shrugged. “Just thought I might be...”

“Be?”

“...talking too much.”

Crowley slipped off the table a second time.

“It’s just—”Aziraphale said, clearly trying to explain without continuing to talk. Which most people will realize is rather the lost cause. “Madame Tracy. Or rather, her friend. Or perhaps not a friend exactly. A client? Follower?” Aziraphale scowled when Crowley just went on blinking at him from halfway out of his seat. “A woman asked to speak to her dead husband and being an angel currently existing between planes I accommodated her and he told her to shut up.” He exhaled after all that, lips trembling. “Separated for who knows how long and the only words he had for her were ‘shut up.’ Because she’d never let him have his say. I... I would never want you to feel the same way, dear boy. I couldn't stand it. ”

Jesus-H-Bloody-Fucking-Are-You-Kidding-Me-Christ.

If Aziraphale wanted him to talk more he was shit out of luck because Crowley’s voice had died a mangled, embarrassing death. Giving up the ghost via shock was like that. And oh sure, sure, plenty of things he could say if his vocal cords kicked back in. Like how Aziraphale was stupid for thinking he could compare them to some random human couple who clearly needed therapy. Or ask if Aziraphale had ever paid one ounce of attention these last six thousand years because if Crowley wanted to say something? He’d damn well say it. No fussy angel was going to stand in his way.

(Not unless he asked really nicely. Or looked at Crowley in that particular way of his. Or so much as thought about wanting him to shut up. Because those were all entirely different situations.)

Speech seemed to be the enemy now. Which was all kinds of horrible since Crowley liked Aziraphale speaking and had hoped to soak up another couple hours of it before the night was over. Who could put something like that into words though? Even when words were an option? Not Crowley.

So instead he summoned up a small black book and slid it across the table.

Aziraphale blinked. "What's this?"

"Read it."

Just a small, ironically innocent notebook. Every demon had one. Standard issue for the bastards lucky enough to go topside. Recounting your deeds was all well and good provided you actually remembered what evil deeds you’d been up to each day. Too often demons melted back into hell having forgotten half of what they’d done. They might not be good at record keeping down there, but there was something like an effort. So, yeah. Write it all down like a good little worker bee.

“Go on,” Crowley said, keeping his voice at a whisper. Aziraphale hesitantly took the book in hand. “Out loud.”

Crowley hadn’t written a deed down for thousands of years.

“June—” Aziraphale paused, having opened to a recent date. He swallowed hard. “June 3rd. Angel went on about gilding again all through lunch. Improper heating techniques and wet vs. depletion. I currently know more about pretty books than any decent demon ever should. Good thing I’ve never been decent.

“June 4th. Got reamed out for going over 90mph again today. Wonder how many times I can get Zira to squeak like that? Half-hour lecture to follow. Gonna start just as soon as he gets back with the shawarma. In three... two... one...

“June 5th. Talked a lot about knitting today. Thinking of picking it back up before winter. Zira had a whole pro/con list for crocheted vs. knitwear but honestly? If it’s warm?? Who cares??? Angel, apparently. There were many thoughts on socks.

“June 6th. Some bugger on the bus had his music blasting while I was trying to hear Zira’s latest Gabriel impression. The kid is gonna end up with wet jeans one way or another for the next week.

“June 7th. Right. Zira might have been onto something with the whole crocheted socks rant. Pretty sure this is one of Beelzebub’s inventions—Crowley.”

Aziraphale finally looked up, his eyes wet in a way that made Crowley shift uncomfortably in his seat. “You keep a diary.”

He winced. “It’s not a diary!”

“It most certainly is,” Aziraphale crowed, flipping through some of the older entries. “I'm astounded at what a faithful record this is—especially since Armageddon—and so many of them are about me. They're...” The impact of that last bit seemed to hit Aziraphale all at once, stilling his hands. “Oh. They’re all about me.”

Talking.

Crowley shrugged. Because he was the one who shrugged in this relationship. He pressed the little book back into Aziraphale’s hand when he tried to pass it back. Crowley’s fingers ran over his knuckles then, soft and slow.

“Keep it awhile,” he said. “For the next time you get some ridiculous idea stuck in your head. Now, what were you saying about the witch girl? My memory’s worse than a goldfish’s, angel. You know that. Best you start from the beginning."

Aziraphale wasn’t much for public displays of affection, but he did bring their still-intwined hands up to his lips, resting them there for a moment.

When he started speaking again Crowley’s skin was gifted with the very first words.

[acedesigns]

Wish Upon a Star [Good Omens: Aziraphale X Reader]

Word Count: 1512

A/N: Probably make a part 2 to this.

--

The gala was fully underway. Music was flourishing, champagne was being poured, and hors d’oeuvres were being served. To the average person, it was a simply fantastic event that only the rich and fabulous could attend. Though, you being you, you had your connections and were there as a guest of honor. Well, one of the guests of honor. You weren’t rich. And, in your own opinion, you weren’t that fabulous either. That didn’t stop nearly every man there from asking you to dance with them.

You would twirl and twirl and twirl. It was getting to the point where you were feeling sick. Though, you weren’t entirely sure if it was from the spinning or from the lack of food. While the food was plentiful, you felt it was your duty to make everyone there happy. Otherwise, you felt as though those that invited you were being dishonored.

There was a lull in the music as some of the live performers took a small break to use the restroom, rehydrate, and give their bodies a break. You glanced around, making sure no one was making a beeline for you. The coast was clear. Quickly, you made your way towards the buffet table hosting a variety of the hors d’oeuvres.

"[Y/N]!” a voice chimed and a man stepped in your way. He didn’t look at all familiar, but the smile and the way he said your name made you think you’ve met him in one lifetime. “It’s so great to see you, I’m so glad you could make it!”

“It’s so great to see you, too! How have you been?” you brownnosed and inwardly cringed as he gave you a hug.

“Just fine! I actually just got back from a trip from Africa. You’ll have to come over to my place again and the wife and I can show you some pictures. You’ll love them. We have so many interesting stories.”

You’ve been to his house before, you mentally noted. Still, you hadn’t any idea who the bastard was. That’s what you get for fundraising, being in deep with political crowds, and not having the ability to say no.

“That sounds lovely, just message me later, alright?” you smiled politely. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am simply famished.”

“Right, of course!”

As you walked away, you shuddered. Then, your eyes were set on the table. Your hands graced a small plate and you used a variety of tongs to fill it. There was fruit, cheese, crackers, and something that looked fancy but you weren’t sure what it was so you put it on your plate anyway. Just as you were about to take a bite, the music started playing once more.

“May I have this dance?” You looked over with your mouth open and the food making way into your mouth. There was a guy close to your age staring at you. You darted your eyes between the plate and the man. He started to tap his foot impatiently. “Well?”

“I-I’m sort of eating?” you said as though it was a question.

“You can eat later.”

It took everything in you to not curse the man out right then and there. He reached for the plate as if he was going to take it out of your hands. You tumbled backward in shock and bumped into a solid figure.

“I-I’m so sorry!” you stammered and turned to look at who you ran into.

There was another man with kind blue eyes, curly blond hair, and a gentle round face. He simply smiled at you and then glanced at the man who was attempting to steal your food. “No worries, my dear,” he said. “I was actually coming this way to see if you needed assistance!”

“Assistance?” you questioned. Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Yes,” he mused. “It seems as though you were simply trying to feed yourself when this buffoon decided he was far more important than you and didn’t at all consider your feelings.”

“What?” the buffoon growled. “Who do you think you are?”

“A gentleman,” the blond nodded proudly. He turned his attention back to you. “Now, would you care to join me in eating? I was going to get another plate myself.”

“That sounds heavenly,” you sighed and finally took a small bite of your food. With your stomach growling threats at you, you didn’t bother to taste it and quickly swallowed it. “Thank you.”

"My pleasure!” The blond quickly filled a plate and led you to a secluded corner of the gala. “I’ve noticed you’ve been trying to make your way towards the food for quite some time now.”

You nearly choked on your cheese and crackers. “You did?”

He chuckled lightly and nodded his head. “Yes. It seems you’re quite popular here.” You grumbled to yourself. The blond frowned, “Not too happy with that?”

Straightening up, you shook your head. “I should be grateful that these people have welcomed me. But there’s a bit of a pressure to be perfect. I-I’m not really from this sort of scene, I’m not rich. So I feel that if I mess up, I’ll be scrutinized and tossed aside. I have to keep these connections.”

"And why’s that?”

With a sigh, you placed a bit of the cheese and cracker back on its plate. You looked to the side with guilt. “I need their money to support a non-profit I’m with. It’s selfish, I know.”

The blond chuckled lightly. “I would say it would be selfish if the money was for yourself. But it’s not. You put up with these stuffy people and in return your help a good cause.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Now! If you’d like, I did see a balcony overlooking the gardens just outside of here. You could go escape over there. Oh! I could keep watch, like a spy! I could make sure no one bothers you for the rest of the night.”

You gave the man a crooked smile. He was a bit odd, yes. But he seemed genuine, not trying to one-up every other person in the room by talking about his grandiose stories of wasteful spending. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind being out there with you.”

“Really?” A look of shock formed on his face before turning into a wide grin and his entire body wiggled ever so slightly. You hummed in agreement. “Well, follow me!”

You glanced around to make sure no one was watching you before the pair of you snuck out of the ballroom. The night air was crisp. Goosebumps formed on your arms and you shivered ever so slightly.

“Here,” you heard the man rumble. A warm weight was placed around your shoulders. You glanced at them and noticed the man’s jacket covering you.

“Th-thank you,” you stuttered and a rosy hue painted itself on your cheeks.

The man merely smiled before looking up at the twinkling stars. You took a moment to take him in. At that moment, the moon was rising from the horizon. It almost made it seem like this gentleman had a halo. You smiled before finishing your food.

“If you could make one wish, what would it be?” he asked out of nowhere. Though, the way he was looking at the stars, perhaps he was referring to making a wish on one.

You glanced up at the galaxy surrounding the two of you. It took you a couple of minutes to think it over, through which he waited patiently. “That everything would turn out okay.”

“It will,” he said just above a whisper.

A small breeze blew through. Although you had his jacket on you, you still felt the chill. Shivering, you stepped just a tad closer to him. “How do you know that?”

He looked over at you and stepped closer himself to where your arms brushed against one another. “Miracles happen all the time.”

You hummed and pondered over it for a bit. Still, you kept your eyes up at the stars. There was one, in particular, that was shined brighter than the others. Closing your eyes, you did make a wish. You wished that everything would be alright.

The man watched you with interest. You looked so peaceful with your eyes shut. He felt a slight flush in his face, but he refused to look away. With the light from the stars and the moon, you were absolutely gorgeous. He found himself subconsciously making the air around the two of you colder. Your shuttered and opened your eyes. Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and brought you closer to him to keep you warm.

“I’m sorry.” He realized what he had just done. “I should have asked first.”

He went to move his arm away, but you shook your head. “I-it’s alright,” you said shyly. “It’s either this or go back inside. I want to stay out here a bit longer.”

The man found himself smiling down at you. He looked back up at the stars, determined to make your wish come true.

[charliesshitposts]

Supernatural Omens (part one)

The nice and inaccurate prophecies of someone,somewhere about something that never happened. A fan fiction.

Warnings: none :) feel free to read this in front of your family and pets.

Word count: idk but it’ll probably take you less than 30 minutes to read.

——————————————————————————

  From across the tent the demon gave the angel a look that let him know it was time to leave. Both of them, covered in cake, fled towards the Bentley parked by the bushes.Safely inside, they exchanged worried looks.Crowley, the demon, smoothed his shirt down. In the process he accidentally smeared the cake all over his hands. Aziraphale,the angel,on the other hand, calmly wiped the bits of cake off him with a cloth napkin. After a moment of silence,Aziraphale said “Well that didn’t go as we planned.”

 “No it did not.”Agreed Crowley.”And now we have bigger problems on our hands.The boy we’ve been taking care of all these years wasn’t the one we were supposed to be looking after.All of this was practically time wasted.”

  “Now now we didn’t know.”The angel said comfortingly. His good nature had him trying to see th positive in this situation.”We don’t know where he is but we do know he’s in England. That narrows our search down tremendously.”

  “England is freaking huge! Do you honestly expect us to find him in time to convince him to not go through with the apocalypse that is destined to happen in exactly seven days?”

 Aziraphale sighed and leaned his head back against the head rest. Finally in a low whisper he asked.”So what are we going to do? I somehow feel responsible for everything that's going to happen. Bloody prophecy!”

  “Alright chill out.”Crowley said.” There’s no need to use that word.There is still a way to fix this but we’re going to need help from others.”

  “Sure.”scoffed Aziraphale.”Who would want to help us? Who would believe us? Nobody.”

  “Ahh don’t be so quick to talk my friend.You’d be surprised at how many people work with these kind of situations.”When the angel didn’t say anything about this Crowley rolled his eyes and continued.”There is a way we can get the help we need. I know of experts that have dealt withsimilar situations but sadly they are nowhere near us. Have you ever heard of those witches who were able to open portals to alternate worlds?”Aziraphale nodded his head quickly. Crowley smiled.”Excellent.The experts I’m referring to live in an alternate world. In the States. Their world isn’t much different than ours except that they have an infestation of supernatural beings among them. They’re not doing anything right now so I say we whip up a spell, open a portal, and try to talk them into coming back here to aid us.”

  It didn’t take much to convince Aziraphale. He figured that with the little time they had left, any attempt to get help was better than no attempt at all. With both of them on board, they set off for Crowleys flat. Crowley ,after doing a mental recap of everything he owned, realized he didn’t have certain ingredients for opening the portal. They made six stops before finally arriving at his flat. After stirring,crushing,and sprinkling ingredients into a metal tin, they successfully opened a portal.

  Crowley pressed his ear closely to hear for noise,but he didn’t hear anything.”They’re probably sleeping. Nows our chance. Let’s go.” He helped the angel step over the portal, which shut as soon as demon stepped through it.

_______________________________________________________________________

  ‘Today’s agenda calls for absolutely nothing.’ Thought the angel Castiel.’Which is a first.It’s rainy too. Our day off could not have come on a better day. I’ll make breakfast for Sam,Dean and Jack. Oh and Gabriel is coming over later on too! We’ll probably do a movie marathon like last time. I hope we get to see Kill Bill volume one and two. Dean will prefer that much over a musical. The last time I made him sit through Hairspray he fell asleep.’

  The smell coming from the pans Cas was using roamed the hallways. It was intoxicatingly delicious. Sam had taught him the basics of cooking. Everything else he had taught himself by reading cook books and watching cooking shows on the Food Network. Right now the angel had eggs in one pan, hash browns in another and bacon in a small pan. Before he had set himself to cook he had squeezed fresh oranges into a pitcher. The orange juice sat next to him on the counter with ice and pulp floating at the top, just like Dean and Jack liked it.

  Recently they had ditched styrofoam plates and cups and had gone out to purchase ceramic dishes. Elegantly Castiel placed the food onto each plate. Jack had gotten into the disgusting habit of having his eggs with ketchup. Cas, although he hated it, embraced the nepheilims weird quirks. Suddenly he heard the creak of the floor in the library.’They must be up’ he mused. He brought our Jack and Sams plate first. He carried forks and napkins in one pocket of his trench coat and the ketchup bottle in the other.

  “Good morning guys! I hope your hungry because I’ve made-”his own scream cut him off. The plates slipped from his grip, shattering onto the floor. Food spilled every which way. It was actually quite impressive, the distance in which the food had landed at. A bacon strip laid on the tip of a boot. The Demon that owned the boot picked the bacon up, dusted it off and bit into it. He smirked at Castiel, who at the sight of this grew tense.

  “Wh-Who are you?!?” Exclaimed Cas.

   Crowley, acting as the spokes person for Aziraphale and himself, calmly rose to his feet.”We have never met before but we know very well who you and your friends are. My name is Crowley-”

  “No that’s impossible.”Interjected Castiel.”Crowley is dead.”

  “Maybe the Crowley in your world, darling. But I am very much alive, for now.Anyways, I’m a demon.” Cas opened his mouth to speak again but Crowley quickly stopped him.”I’m sure you’re Crowley was a demon too.”

  “King of hell. But before that he was a crossroads demon. And he was British, too..But No.”Castiel shook his head.”No you are an entirely different type of demon. You..you caused the fall of mankind.”

  Crowley hissed.”Guilty”He chuckled.”And this lovely celestial being standing next to me is Aziraphale.”

  Upon hearing his name Aziraphale extended his hand so Cas could take it. “Pleasure meeting you. I gotta say,I love that there are more of us out there. Castiel,is it?” Cas, instead of shaking Aziraphales hand, stood there staring at the other angels hand.

  “I’m sorry.”Apologized the seraph.”I’m sorry but i’m just having a really hard time acknowledging your presence. I better..um..”

  “Get the others?” Suggested Crowley.

  “Ye-yeah.”stuttered out Cas.”Yeah them. Hang on while I go get them.” His natural instincts made him rush towards Deans room. Dean was always his go to when things were wrong.

  Dean was sound asleep under a small layer of blankets. He liked to sleep in a fetal position, hugging a pillow between his arms and legs. Cas ignored Dean’s previous warnings about waking him up. He barged through the door and shook his friend awake.

  “Dean! Dean wake up! Wake up and get your gun! We have company.”

  Still half asleep Dean slowly sat up. He stretched his arms way up high above his head, then he stretched his legs until they cracked. Tiredly he rubbed his eyes.”Mmm. I’m sorry Cas I didn’t get a word of what you said. Could you be a lamb and repeat it for me?” His voice came out raspy.

  Castiel growled.”I said wake up and get your gun. We have unwanted visitors in the library. The snake that caused the fall of mankind is here. And he’s with someone that claims to be an angel, but I have never seen him or heard of him before.”

  Dean smiled cheekily at his friend.”So this snake, what’s it look like?”

  Castiel glared furiously. If there was one thing he hated, it was not being taken seriously. Especially when he was having a panic attack, which at the moment, he was. Deans smile soon faded.

  “Oh man you’re not kidding. Alright alright i’m coming.” In a flash he got dressed into the clothes he had worn the night before. He took quite a bit untangling his shirt from his flannel. When everything was on he and Castiel went towards the younger Winchesters room.Sam was already awake. He sat at the edge of his bed yawning. His hair was matted from the back,and there was still a shed of blood from last nights hunt on his cheek. Neither Cas nor Dean addressed it.

  When Dean walked into the room he said.”Oh good. You’re up. We have a situation. A snake and an angel are in the library. They say they want to talk to us.”

  “Snake?”Sam asked, clearly confused.

  “No.”Cas sighed.”He can take the form of a snake but he’s actually a demon. He look’s human though. He must be inside someone, using them as a vessel.”

  Dean nodded.”Okay.So this demon named..”

  “Crowley.” 

  The eldest Winchesters eyes widened.”Crowley,huh? Wow. Small world.”

  Sam looked over at Castiel ,who was just about ready as explode.”Cas,what’s the angels name?”

  “Aziraphale. Neither of them are from here, from this world.”

  “Out of towners huh?”Dean walked towards Sams night stand and picked up a silver pistol.”I say we do the right thing and go out to introduce ourselves. What do you say, boys?”

  “Wait Dean.”said Sam.”What about Jack?He startles easily. What if you actually have to use that gun on one of them. It’ll wake him up.”

  Dean sighed in frustration.”I’ll drag them to our dungeon and kick both their butts in silence. Now come on, get dressed.” 

  Sam changed into jeans and a long sleeve. He had always been the kind of person that got cold easily so he plopped a jacket on.The way they walked in to meet their visitors were as follows. Dean, the pistol pointing forward at all times, led the little line. Then followed Sam, an angel blade hidden in the inside pocket of his jacket. Then, walking slowly behind them trembling, was Cas. A demon blade in the pocket of his trench coat. The ketchup bottle ,napkins and forks had been left behind in Sam’s room.

  Dean, noticing the change in his friend, whispered.”Cas, get behind me buddy. I got you.” Castiel obeyed and stepped behind Dean. 

  Crowley broke off from the conversation he was having with Aziraphale to look up at them. He saw Dean, pistol in hand, and laughed.”Oh please you can put your weapon away. We’re here to talk business not fight.”

  “How about I keep the gun out just in case one of you make a false move?”Dean suggested.

  “You could do that but you honestly wont be needing it. We mean you no harm.”

  Sam scoffed.”If you mean us no harm then how come Castiel’s feels tense just by being in the same room as you two?”

  “He’s just scared about the fact that Crowley is who he is.” said Aziraphale.

  The cocky demon strode over towards the terrified seraph who didn’t dare to look up. Crowley put both hands on Cas’ shoulders and shook him a little.”Aye boy ease up. I’m not here to hurt you.” That last sentence ended with a snakes hiss. Cas jolted.

  Through clenched teeth the seraph said.”Why are you guys here?” 

   Aziraphale straightened his vest out.”We heard you have expertise hunting the um, supernatural?We would like your help dealing with something relevant to that. In seven days an eleven year old boy will start the apocalypse in our world like the prophecy foretells. We need your help finding him and convincing him to not go through with this.”

  “Who exactly is this eleven year old?”asked Sam

  “He’s the son of the devil.”

  “Whoa.”chuckled Dean.”Deja Vu.”

  “We don’t know much about what’s to come but with your help i’m sure we can stop this before it starts.”

  “Where’s the boy?” Sam asked, he seemed to be the only one intrigued.

  “Somewhere in England. Where exactly,we don’t know.”

  Crowley,with an arm wrapped tightly around Cas’ shoulder, said.”If you could make up your mind on wether you’ll help us or not within the next 5 minutes that would be just lovely.”

  Aziraphale glared at his friend. He turned to his new friends and smiled.”I’m sorry for all of this. We’re sort of on the clock.”

  Dean waved Sam over for a group huddle with Cas. Meanwhile Crowley and Aziraphale circled into their own huddle. What they talked about was insignificant.

  “So what do you think?”Dean asked Sam. 

  “I think we should do it.”answered Sam quickly.

  “I think so too. I would say no if the apocalypse was months away. I’d tell them they have plenty of time to solve whatever they need to solve. But seven days away? They’re desperate. Plus someone clearly knows about us in their world or else they would have never come to us.”

  “Dean-”protested Cas.

  “Cas,please.” growled the elder Winchester.

  “No you please!”When he saw that neither him nor sam would budge, Cas threw his hands up in the air.”Alright whatever. If you wanna go on this murder road trip with the snake from the forbidden tree be my guest. I’m not going.”He turned and stomped off. Over his shoulder he yelled,”And Jack isn’t coming either!”

  “Cas!”Dean called out.”Cas! For crying out loud. Sammy,could you keep them entertained while I smack some sense into Castiel.”

  With Sam talking to the Angel and the Demon,Dean went looking for the Seraph. He found him in the kitchen packing away the breakfast he had made that morning. It had grown cold from staying out for too long. Dean stopped at the door, momentarily pausing to watch Cas angrily put food away in Tupperwares. He only spoke when Castiel angrily slammed the fridge door shut.

  “Hey! That fridge is as old as you. Take care of it.”

  With his back turned  Cas sighed heavily.”I can’t do this Dean. I can’t I-I thought we were going to take a well deserved vacation. I thought I wasn’t going to have to kill anybody for a really long time. Now everything I had planned for our vacation has gone out the window.”

  “I know how you feel, buddy.” admitted Dean.”I understand. But what has been our purpose throughout all these years?”

  “....Saving people.”

  “Okay. Now that that’s in your head I want you to think about the burden of rejecting a chance to help save millions. Not tens, not hundreds, millions, Castiel. Do you think you can live with that weight on your shoulders? The weight of being responsible for letting all those innocent people die? The weight of knowing you could have done something but opted for not lifting a finger to help?”

  Cas stayed silent for what felt liked forever before finally sighing out heavily.”I couldn’t live with myself if I let that happen.”

  “Atta boy!”Exclaimed Dean.”Look,I promise that after this we will take that vacation. Maybe even in England.”

  A smile crept on the corner of Cas’ lips.”That sound like fun.”

  Dean smiled.”And I know how you feel about Crowley. Don’t worry,I’ll deal with it. If at anytime you feel intimidated by him you don’t think twice about coming to me or Sam.”

Cas nodded,smiling fully now.”Okay. Thank you Dean.”

“That’s What I’m here for.”

“But wait! What about Gabe?”

“I’ve already taken care of it. On my way over here I texted him,explained the situation and he said he’ll be on standby in case we need him. He’ll be here in an hour to house sit.”

“That’s great. Already I feel better. Oh wait that still leaves one issue. What are we going to do about Jack? I don’t trust that Gabriel will take care of him well.”

“He’s been really good lately.” Noted Dean.”We should take him with us. He’s the son of the devil over here,maybe he’ll bond with the son of the devil over in England.”

Almost as if on cue Sam and Jack appeared at the door. Jack wore a jean jacket with a red shirt underneath. He looked his usual cheery self. He had already been told what was happening.”I want to come,guys.” Jack said.”I’ll listen to all your rules,promise.”

“I’m sure you will kid.” Dean smiled.”You can come. Just do us a favor?”

“Anything.”

“You’ve met the two strangers in the library,right?”

“Yes I have. Aziraphale is really nice.”

“I’m glad you think so. Stick with him and with us alright? I don’t want you alone with Crowley until I know for sure he’s trustworthy.”

“Understood.”

Sam smiled.”So it’s settled?”

“Yep.”

“Excellent.” Said Aziraphale,who was standing at the entrance to the kitchen.”You have 5 minutes to pack. Pack lightly.”

With everyone’s clothes for the next 7 days packed into a duffle bags,team free Will was ready to go. They watched as Crowley and Aziraphale prepared the spell to open the portal again. They thanked the Winchester’s plenty for having everything at their disposal. Once the portal was open,it was go time.

“Here we go.” Cas said anxiously.

Crowley gestured towards the portal. “After you.”

Dean,Sam and Jack followed the Seraph. And just like before,the portal closed as soon as the demon stepped through.

That’s it for part one! I’ll be uploading a new chapter every Monday 💜 Stay tuned!

[moxy-fruitbat]

Destined for Great Things - (Reposted)

Now it’s actually functional to read because I’m not posting from mobile! I’m so sorry about it being 10 miles long before. The actual story is under the cut!

This is my apprentice Laurene’s backstory of how she came to Vesuvia and met Marcel, the other half of the Sibling Apprentices. Laurene is Fantasy!Irish, and her culture is based on a mix of different Gaelic peoples, including the Gaels (more broadly), the Picts (more specifically), druidry, and my own experience as a pagan.

It also is heavily based on Irish mythology. If you don’t know the myths, it’s perfectly fine and you’ll still be able to understand the story.

Rating: T for depictions of trauma, but there’s no gore or explicit violence. Content Warning: Fire, claustrophobia, family death Length: 3,200 words. 

Yeah, you read that right, it’s basically a full-length novella. I got carried away a bit, but I’m really proud of it. (And also always open to constructive criticism!)

Irish/Scottish Pronunciation Guide (written by an American with the internet, so it's not good):

- Labhraín: LAW-reen - Muirne: MIR-ne - Bandruí: BAHN-droo - Tlachtga: TLAC-da - Uncail: UN-cuhl - Tadg: TAH-dg - Cumhall: COOL - Áillen: AH-lehn - M'iníon: M'een (Irish translation: My daughter)

Labhraín woke up on a chilly autumn morning, curled up with her cousin Muirne to stave away the cold. Careful not to wake her, Labhraín slowly crawled out of bed and dressed near the central hearth. How Muirne could sleep through everyone bustling about in the house was beyond her - there were fifteen people in here, almost entirely women and children, and half the building was dedicated to the sheep and goats, past the partition. It was always so loud.

Labhraín had just finished braiding her long hair when Muirne came and joined her.

"Morning cousin" Muirne smirked, a smile partially hidden behind her mess of dark blonde hair. "Are you ready for the day? We have a lot of work to do."

That they did. Tomorrow was New Year, one of two days where the veil between realms was at its thinnest, and the day to honor the dead and do readings for the coming year. There was still a lot to do to prepare for the feast of the ancestors and the bonfire atop Almu Hill, and Labhraín and Muirne were the two oldest cousins and eighteen and nineteen, so it was their job to do a lot of that work. Labhraín's mother, Bandruí Tlachtga, always said it was a blessing that there were so many girls. Her father chose some other words to describe it.

Muirne leaned in and whispered, so only Labhraín could hear her. "Hurry up and meet me in the hazel wood, I have something important to tell you!"

---

"What's so important that we had to rush out here?" Labhraín questioned as she focused her concentration to make a gust of wind appear from her hands and into the branches of the sacred trees, rattling the hazelnuts loose.

"I have to tell you a secret. And you promise you can't tell anyone. Especially not my Da. Promise?"

"I promise, what is it?" Not even Uncail Tadg? He was the chief magician - not telling him must mean it's something bad. And knowing her cousin, that should be expected anyway. She was usually getting into some kind of nonsense.

"I'm leaving. Tomorrow." A smile spread gleefully across Muirne's face as she picked up hazelnuts off the mossy forest floor

"Leaving?! What do you mean, leaving?" She hissed. 

"I met man, a few weeks ago. Oh, Labhraín, I love him. He's getting me out of here and we're going to get married. My Da wants to keep me here until I'm an old crone, and I can't do it! I know I'm destined for great things!"

Labhraín just sighed and looked at her cousin. Muirne was in love and there was nothing she could do to change her mind. Once Uncail Tadg found out she was missing, he would send out a manhunt. In the past he had said something about an omen, that Muirne could never get married. She wasn't sure exactly what kind of omen that meant, but the soothsayers never lie.

"His name is Cumhall, oh Labhraín, you'd love him. He's the leader of a different tribe, I know he'll take care of me. We're leaving tomorrow night, right after the feast. With all the festivities, no one will notice I'm gone!"

Labhraín thought it was a terrible idea, and even if he was a king she still wouldn't like him because he was taking her dearest friend away.   But how could she pull her from what she believed to be her destiny? Was it even her place to say?

Instead, she just sighed, clutching her apron full of hazelnuts and headed back to the blackhouse with her cousin. "I'm happy for you, Muirne. I wish you the best."

They spent the rest of the day preparing for the holiday - rehydrating the woad pigment, baking dried fruit bread, gathering eggs for divination and herbs for the fire, and washing turnips to carve the next day. Labhraín went off on her own for a bit, to practice her music one last time before the bonfire with the other musicians in the family. She bumped shoulders with her cousin, Áillen. He made her laugh and for a brief moment she forgot how unhappy she was.

Silent tears ran down Labhraín's face as she tried to sleep that night, surrounded by her other cousins but holding Muirne close. The words she said kept playing in Labhraín's head: I'm destined for great things. I'm destined for great things. I'm destined for great things.

I'm destined for great things.

Labhraín hoped to the spirits of the forest and the ancestors that it was true. And she hoped the same for herself.

---

The next day, after they had the feast of the ancestors in silence with the rest of the family, she tearfully waved her cousin off into the dusky forest.

"M'iníon, what is wrong?" Her mother asked, catching Labhraín by surprise. "Why are you crying? Is something upsetting you?"

"Oh...nothing. Thinking about grandfather is just making me sad." She lied, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Yes, we did lose a good man this year..." She placed a hand on her daughter's cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "But don't you worry, he's watching over us, especially tonight. The fire is starting soon, would you like me to help you with your facepaint so you can join the other musicians?"

A small smile came upon Labhraín's face and she nodded. She was a grown woman, but her mam always knew how to make her feel better when she was vulnerable.

"I'd like that a lot."

As her mother brushed patterns over her face in the traditional blue pigment, Labhraín kept telling herself the bonfire will make her feel better. Without fail, it always does.

---

At the top of Almu hill, she readied herself behind her dulcimer, her aunts, uncles, and cousins beside her on other instruments. This is where she felt most at home. One at the hand drum, one at the flute, one on the pipes, with Áillen on the harp. He was the best musician of them all, his warm smile always lighting up the room as he played.

But this time, no, she had to be imagining it? Áillen looked different than usual - like a man half dead, his eyes like burning coals. He caught her looking at him, and the smirk he gave her made her stomach turn.

Something was wrong.

The bonfire was never actually lit. Everything happened so fast... They were playing the music, but as Áillen started to sing, all the men began to move slower and slower until they fell unconscious. Her uncle dropped the pipes. And then the destruction began. 

Fire. So much fire. It began with Áillen? And the roof of the blackhouse, below them. What was happening? Where was her mam? It was chaos. The sound of screaming filled her ears. Her mother yelled for her. 

"Mam!" Where was she? Everything was a blur of smoke.. Her heart raced. Her eyes prickled.

Through the flames she saw her. 

"M'iníon! Labhraín! Run!"

It was all she could do. She snatched up her dulcimer and ran down the hill and into the forest, leaving everything behind her.

---

She ran until she couldn't feel her legs anymore, collapsing onto the forest floor. The hammers to her dulcimer were long gone, and she honestly didn't even know why she grabbed it in the first place. She knew she needed to pick herself up and keep moving, to get farther away from Áillen's destruction, but all she could do in the moment was sob into the dark earth.

She wanted her mam. She wanted Muirne. She wanted the hammers to her dulcimer. She wanted to be back in the blackhouse, waking up the next morning and none of this ever happening.

Something large crunched the dead leaves in front of her, and she almost didn't even look up. Whatever danger she was about to face, maybe it would actually kill her. Being dead was better off than her current situation, right?

But she slowly craned her head up, and her eyes grew wide as she looked directly into a pair of bright yellow ones. In front of her sat the biggest mountain lion she had ever seen.

Granted, she had never seen one before. She must have run farther than she thought, since these cats weren't usually found where her tribe lived. Maybe this one was lost like she was.

It cocked its head at her, whiskers twitching, and she heard it speak to her in her mind.

"Lost?"

"Ye-yes..." Her voice trembled. "I...there was a fire and..."

"Fire?"

"Yes... Everything is gone, my mother, she...she told me to run, but now...."

"Safe?"

"Me? No, I...I don't know..." It was the dead of night by now, in a part of the forest she wasn't familiar with. She could usually sense where the spirits of the forest wanted her to go, letting them guide her, but in her current state she wasn't sure she could muster up the strength.

As her voice trailed off, the large cat shook its head once and stood up, beginning to walk away, it's tail straight up in the air like a flag.

"Follow."

It led her to a crevice in some rocks, beneath the roots of a large tree. It was a den for rearing cubs, though she didn't see any. The cougar laid down on its side and curled up, looking up at Labhraín as if to question why she wasn't following in suit. Not knowing what else to do, she laid down beside it, the cat's tail wrapping around her. She heard one more word in her mind before exhaustion completely set in and she fell asleep.

"Safe."

-------

The cougar introduced itself as Philomena, and insisted on staying with Labhraín as she went through the forest, even though she really didn't have a place to go. She was physically and emotionally drained, her skin pale and her eyes heavy. What was the point of even going anywhere? She just wanted to lay down and sleep and never wake up.

Philomena headbutted her, urging her to keep going.

"Need to go. Safe"

She groaned, picking herself up. She gathered up her dulcimer and hugged it close to her chest, trying to pull whatever familiarity to home it had into her, as if it could fly away at any moment.

She walked out into the dewy morning, scattered sunlight filtering through the trees. She sighed - even at her worst, she couldn't deny that the forest was beautiful, and was still proud to call it her home.

Philomena nudged her again, and Labhraín closed her eyes, listening to the forest and feeling where its spirit pulled her.

"Slightly north to the setting sun." She said after a few moments of thought and gathering of her bearings. Her feet like lead and her heart still heavy, she trudged forward through the trees with the sun at her back.

They walked for days, stopping only for food or sleep, and the occasional rinse in a stream. Despite all of Philomena's pushing, Labhraín refused to eat meat, because that would mean she had to light a fire spell to cook it. She never wanted to look at fire again, or at least not any time soon. What if she accidentally lit the forest on fire? What if destruction is in her blood, like her cousin? She knew that didn't make much sense, but the fear was still there.

After five days, the deep forest she was familiar with began to thin. She went around a large mountain, and the trees changes species. Signs of other human life began to appear - she must be getting close to a village. The water from the falls was flowing down the path she was already walking. If she followed it, she would probably end up at the village, since they would be using the water. Is this where the spirits of the forest were guiding her? Her pace quickened - maybe she'll actually find a place to stay. 

As she continued, she passed the largest tree out of them all, roots exposed on top of a pile of crumbling rocks. She made a note of it, that if she ended up staying in the woods it wouldn't be hard to turn those stones into walls and make a house under that tree. She would be alone besides Philomena, though, and she was eager to see another human being. 

The trees finally cleared, and Labhraín came face to face with the entrance to the largest city she had ever seen. Over the walls was a large white building, with gold and spires and towers. She had never seen something so beautiful. Someone very important must live there.

Philomena nudged her back, causing Labhraín to turn around. The Mountain Lion was sitting up, a look of finality in its eyes.

"Safe." It said. This wasn't to urge her to keep moving, but a statement. This is where Labhraín was meant to be.

"Aren't you coming?"

"No. Stay out here. Home in forest."

That made sense. A large predator like Philomena wouldn't be welcome in her small village, and Labhraín couldn't imagine what a large city like this place would think.

"You're my family now, though, you know that?" She asked, scratching the cat's golden fur behind the ears before wrapping her arms around it in a hug. "I'll be back for you, I'll visit all the time. I promise."

"Familiar." Philomena purred. "With you. Always."

With that, they went their separate directions: Philomena jumped into the upper branches of the forest trees, and Labhraín made her way into the city. Her heart was heavy and she was scared, but Mierne's words echoed in her head, her mantra for her entire journey.

I am destined for great things. There was no turning back now.

---

Labhraín had never seen so many people in her entire life. This city was packed, everyone was pushing around one another and she felt trapped. She didn't really know how she got to this part of the city, the streets were twisted and confusing, but it was some kind of trade center. Everyone was buying or selling different foods, from the most delicious bread she'd ever smelled to piles of exotic fruits she had never seen before. One was dark red and leathery, and a perfect sphere - it had to be too tough to bite into. How would someone eat it? It wasn't until this moment that she realized how much she didn't know about the world. In the past hour she had seen more people of different skin tones, heard more languages spoken, and seen so many different foods than she had ever seen or heard before in her life. There were people who she couldn't tell what gender they were, or if they had a gender at all. She didn't realize that was an option. But most of all she noticed that up until now she had been relatively alone or in her small family group. She realized that all these people and all the noise made her very anxious.

There was so much going on. There were so many people…

The crowd jostled her to and fro through the streets, pushed her around. She found herself feeling smaller and smaller, her heart racing, her breath quickening. She ran to the edge of the street, her back against the stone wall of a building. She sunk to her knees and closed her eyes, hoping it would just go away. 

"Are you alright?"

She heard a voice and felt a hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes, another face very close to her own, purple eyes looking into hers.

"Are you alright? Do you need help?" A person with tan skin and hair the color of woad knelt down in front of her, a concerned look on their face.

"I...I don't know. I..." Labhraín's voice trailed off.

"You're new here, yeah? I don't recognize you."

Labhraín nodded. Did this person know all these people in the city? How could they know so many faces?

"Here, come with me. The back roads are a lot more quiet. I can show you, if you want." They stood up and held out their hand for her. She took it, and they led her down some side streets away from the crowds They moved quite fast, twisting and turning through the alleys, and Labhraín almost had to run to keep up with their long legs. All the while, this person never seemed to stop talking.

"My name's Marcel, what's yours?"

"Labhraín."

"Law...reen?"

She nodded.

"Laurene. Okay, I think I got it! So you look pretty lost. You've never been to Vesuvia before, have you?"

She shook her head no.

"Yeah, it's a lot if you're not used to it. So welcome to Vesuvia! Are you staying or just visiting?"

"I… I think I'm staying."

"Oh, wicked. That thing you're holding, is that an instrument? It looks like a kanun?"

"It's a dulcimer. I'm missing the hammers, though."

"You play it with hammers? That's super cool! I play the oud."

Did they not know what a dulcimer was? To be fair, she didn't know what either of the instruments they mentioned were.

Marcel kept talking, asking a lot of questions that Laurene didn't think really meant much. What her favorite flower was ("We call it Lily of the Valley where I'm from"), or her favorite food ("fiddleheads". "Fiddleheads? I've never heard of that before. I like kousa mahshi." "I've never heard of that before."). They didn't mean much, but slowly they got Laurene talking, speaking to another human again. They reminded her of Muirne, and she smiled for the first time in almost a week.

By the time they got to wherever they were going, Laurene knew more about Marcel than she did anyone else. They described themself as "nonbinary" and didn't really go by any particular gender. They were nineteen, a year older than her, and was also a magician. Their facepaint helped attune their chakras, whatever those were, and they were really interested in the clothing of other cultures. 

Marcel also was uncomfortable showing skin, which explained the boots, long pants, knee-length tunic, and jacket they were wearing. They even wore a looped scarf around their neck, to cover their hair and mouth when they felt like being extra modest. ("Large crowds make me nervous, so it makes me feel better to cover my head.") Laurene didn't know how they could wear so much fabric when the city was still so hot in autumn, but she could make an assumption that it was something magical.

The two of them came out of an alley in front of a shop a ways away from the marketplace, the wooden sign emblazoned with a mortar and pestle that hung next to the doorway creaked in the autumn wind.

"This is the magic shop!" Marcel grinned as they unlocked the door. "My auntie and I, we run it, and live upstairs." They paused, halfway through the door with Laurene still standing on the street outside, unsure of what to do.

"What, aren't you coming in for tea? You're new in town, you're a guest! Come in!"

[iamalwayswatchingfilms]

2020 films

Little Women (2019) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭 🖤

Booksmart ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Videodrome ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Midsommar ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

TAG ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Shazam ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Dumbo ⭐️⭐️🌭

Us ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Jojo Rabbit  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭🖤

Little Monsters ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Requiem For a Dream ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Booksmart ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Taxi Driver ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Invitation ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

This is Spinal Tap ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Carol ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Captain Marvel ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

True Romance ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Midsommar ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Eighth Grade ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Escape Room ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Cell ⭐️🌭

The Last Exorcism Part II ⭐️🌭

The Machinist ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Knives Out  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭 🖤

Enemy ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Cinderella ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Death Of Stalin ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

28 Days Later ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Blade Runner ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Blade Runner 2049 ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Rear Window ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Snowpiercer ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Hidden Figures ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

La La Land ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before: P.S. I Love You ⭐️🌭

Love, Simon ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Pet Sematary ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Happy Death Day 2u ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

In Fabric ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Greta ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Emma. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭🖤

Scott Pilgrim Vs The World ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Parasite ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭🖤

Sorry to Bother You ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Personal History of David Copperfield ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭🖤

Inglorious Basterds ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Can You Ever Forgive Me? ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Departure ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Bumblebee ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Hot Summer Nights ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Polka King ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Mascots ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

A Futile and Stupid Gesture ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Dolemite Is My Name ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Overnight ⭐️⭐️🌭

Almost Famous ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Evil Dead ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Invisible Man ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭🖤

Uncut Gems ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Wet Hot American Summer ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Cat Returns ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Wine Country ⭐️⭐️🌭

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Wailing ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Christine (1983) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Dead Don’t Die ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Knives Out ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🖤

Blue Velvet ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Shoplifters ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Mascots ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Bottle Rocket ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Moonlight ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Predator ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

2001: A Space Odyssey ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Suffragette ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Jay and Silent Bob Reboot ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Inglorious Basterds ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Fighting With my Family ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Green Mile ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Hustlers ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Planes, Trains and Automobiles ⭐️⭐️🌭

Us ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Big Short ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Toy Story 4 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Oldboy ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Rocketman ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Favourite ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Of Mice and Men ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Quadrophenia ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Spiderman: Far From Home ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Rosemarys Baby ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Reservoir Dogs ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Cold Comfort Farm ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Misery ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Bottle Rocket ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Pokemon Detective Pikachu ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Southland Tales ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

WIthnail and I ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Night Moves ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Blue Valentine ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Parent Trap (1961) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Ma ⭐️🌭

The Last Black Man in San Francisco ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Truman Show ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Dunkirk (2017) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Land Girls ⭐️⭐️🌭

Portrait of a Lady on Fire ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Yes Man ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Do the Right Thing ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Dead Don’t Die ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Biutiful ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Evil Dead II ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Florida Project ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Whiplash ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Mean Streets ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Dune ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

City of God ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Hotel Artemis ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Almost Famous ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Midsommar ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Come to Daddy ⭐️⭐️🌭

Daniel isn’t Real ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Machete Kills ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Clueless ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Platoon ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Blackkklansman⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Clueless ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

John Wick ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Annabelle: Creation ⭐️⭐️🌭

The Addams Family ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Austin Powers ⭐️⭐️

The Royal Tenenbaums ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me ⭐️⭐️🌭

Austin Powers: Goldmember ⭐️⭐️🌭

The Art of Self-Defense ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Glass ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Fargo ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Addams Family Values ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Eagle Vs Shark ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Dog Day Afternoon ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Killing of a Sacred Deer ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Tekkonkinkreet ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Void⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Secret Life of Pets 2 ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Walk Hard⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Kronks New Groove ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Wild at Heart ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Hamilton ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Cheaper by the Dozen ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Cheaper by the Dozen 2 ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Bad Education ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Buffaloed ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Maleficent: Mistress of Evil ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Ratatoing 

The Dead Don’t Die ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Them That Follow ⭐️⭐️🌭

American Beauty ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Vast of Night ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Good Boys ⭐️⭐️🌭 Honey Boy ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

First Love ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Personal History of David Copperfield ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Mummy ⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Mummy Returns ⭐️

Reality Bites ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

National Lampoons Vacation ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Under the Silver Lake ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Hell House LLC ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

This is Where I Leave You ⭐️⭐️🌭

Cube ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Swallow ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Being John Malcovich ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Last Black Man in San Francisco ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Ready or Not ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Jumanji the Next Level ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Swallows and Amazons (1974) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The 40 Year Old Virgin ⭐️⭐️🌭

Chemical Hearts ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Zombieland Double Tap ⭐️⭐️🌭

The Peanuts Movie ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Babysitter: Killer Queen ⭐️⭐️🌭

Cat People ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Curse of the cat people ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Platform ⭐️⭐️🌭

Casablanca ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Night of the Living Dead ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Bringing up Baby ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Flash Gordon ⭐️⭐️🌭

Candyman ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Mars Attacks ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Witches ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Hocus Pocus ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Scooby-doo! ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Scooby Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed ⭐️⭐️

Big Trouble in Little China ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Scarface ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Halloween (2019) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Jurassic Park ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

School of Rock ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Addams Family ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Omen ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Hubie Halloween ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Independence Day ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Sword of Trust ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Cure ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Mean Girls ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

His House ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Other Lamb ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Skin I Live In ⭐️⭐️🌭

The Lighthouse ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Pinocchio ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Handmaiden ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

The Man Who Killed Don Quixote ⭐️🌭

Spirited Away ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Doctor Sleep ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Richie Rich ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

John Wick 2 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Hunt ⭐️⭐️🌭

Meagan is Missing ⭐️⭐️🌭

The Grudge 2020 ⭐️⭐️🌭

Borat Subsequent Moviefilm ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Brahms the Boy II ⭐️🌭

Parasite ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Colour out of Space ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Harry Potter and Half Blood Prince ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

National Lampoons Christmas Vacation ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Scrooged ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Sound of Music ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

National Lampoons European Vacation ⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

John Wick 3 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Carrie ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Trainspotting ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌭

Total: 245

First time: 180

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “The Cobra and the Curse” (Rated PG13)

Kurt travels the desert alone, entertaining the masses from bazaar to bazaar, accompanied by his loyal golden cobra, which he carries wrapped around his arm as opposed to in a basket the way most snake charmers do. People say he is searching for a rare jewel that can break a powerful curse he suffers.

But that’s only a portion of the truth.

The rest is far more heartbreaking than that. (2280 words)

A/N: This is a rewrite, and namely because I have always wanted @sunshineoptimismandangels and @riverance to read it. If I continue it as a longer story, it will probably be for K*urtbastian or as an original work. Warning for angst, curses, and snakes.

Read on AO3.

The sun made its appearance earlier than usual and refused to be ignored. By noon, the tiny marketplace baked beneath its relentless glow so that the ground cracked, and any drop of moisture sizzled immediately and evaporated away. Undeterred, the bazaar teemed with the unwashed masses, haggling their way through their daily shopping. Vendors tried to outwit the heat by constructing makeshift tents, basic wood frames covered in light fabric to protect them from the fiery sky, but all it succeeded in doing was trapping the heat, turning what was once uncomfortable to truly unbearable.

Kurt sat alone on his intricately woven carpet, a gold veil covering his face, shielding all but his blue eyes. He sat removed from the bustling mob, tucked strategically in a shady corner. He set up his rug at a distance to avoid the persistent scorching white light and mind numbing stench, but close enough that airy strains of music from his flute lured passing treasure hunters to stop and watch and listen … and hopefully pay.

Most passersby only absently regarded the snake charmers. Snake charmers weren’t unusual in the marketplace, but Kurt and his cobra drew a bigger audience than most, even on brutally hot days, which greatly outnumbered the cool, overcast days now that the full force of summer had set in.

His alluring music trapped the unsuspecting, but it was the gorgeous, venomous creature under his complete control that hypnotized them, and they paid Kurt handsomely for the honor of its company. New to this bazaar in particular, Kurt showed up to the same spot day after day, and as his popularity grew, so did suspicion from local authorities, who couldn’t understand the appeal of one vagrant flute player and his pet snake compared to the rest that their town had to offer.

It wasn’t too long before they decided to find out.

“And what do we have here?”

The crowd in front of Kurt’s carpet parted to let the chief of the guard and two of his men approach. The sour looking man in the lead, haggard from the intense heat, stopped right in front of Kurt. He was a rotund man, with piercing brown eyes peeking out from narrow slits, and a full beard covered in the ash that drifted through the air from the many food tents. The remaining onlookers dispersed quickly, leaving Kurt to face the three law men alone.

Most foreign visitors to the marketplace were wary of law enforcement; even innocent people kept their distance.

Kurt, however, was far from impressed.

“May I help you gentlemen?” he asked with the pretense of civility. “Or did you come to hear me play?”

“I came to ask you a few questions,” the chief guard said, gruff in tone. He wiped an ocean of sweat from his brow with one meaty hand, then dried that hand on the leg of his pants, depositing a swath of murky brown onto the camel-colored fabric. Kurt cringed beneath his veil in disgust.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I was just packing it in for the day.”

Kurt clicked his tongue and the snake turned to him. The men stepped back, watching in horror and in wonder as the dangerous reptile launched itself at the man’s outstretched arm. The chief almost yelled a warning, but Kurt flashed stormy eyes at him, and he froze. The snake slithered up Kurt’s arm, winding itself tightly as it went, until its entire body was but an ornament on Kurt’s sleeve. Only a bit of its scaly form and its spread hood stood erect. Eerily following their movements, the snake kept its black eyes fixed on the three shocked men.

“Do you not have a hook to control that creature?” one of the lesser guards said, eyes wide. “Or a basket to transport it in?”

“Why?” Kurt asked innocently. “I’m not in any danger.”

“I’ve heard of you,” the third man put in.

“Have you?” Kurt returned nonplussed, but listening intently.

“Yes.” The man eyed Kurt cautiously. “People say you travel from bazaar to bazaar, looking for a rare jewel that will help you break some terrible curse.”

Kurt smirked and rolled his eyes.

“Really?” Kurt rolled his rug and tied it. “I would think an intelligent official like yourself would be more selective about what he believes.”

“They say you and this … this creature … have an unnatural relationship.”

“Do they now?” Kurt chuckled, standing with the cobra wrapped possessively around his arm. “Would you like to take that up with him?”

Kurt moved swiftly forward. The men scuttled back, the two behind their chief almost crowding behind him to get away, and Kurt laughed softly at the look of fear on their faces.

The guards watched Kurt gather up the remainder of his things. Kurt cooed at his snake as if they weren’t even there, kissing it gently on the hood like an old friend. The chief didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of it. This man was no ordinary snake charmer, no matter what he wanted them to think, and the chief would feel much more at ease once he packed up his rug for good and moved on. He tried to think of a way to make that happen sooner than later, but apart from having the man dealt with in the dead of night, the chief could come up with no other solution. Kurt tucked his rug under his arm, tossed his flute over his shoulder by its leather strap, and paying the three guards no heed, walked away.

“You’d better watch yourself, snake charmer,” the surly man spat at Kurt’s back. “I’m not sure I like your kind hanging around my marketplace.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kurt returned as he continued on without a glance back.

Kurt walked the vacant stretch of desert outside the boundaries of town, out beyond the first dune to the nomad camp where he had been lent a tent to occupy. On his journey north, a clan of travelers had come across him. They were drawn to him first by his unburnt pale skin, strange for people living in those parts, and his sea blue eyes. After taking audience with him, watching him charm his impressive reptile, and seeing the imposing beast eating patiently from his hand, the elders of the clan took finding him as an omen, and offered him their protection.

Kurt bowed in salaam to the men standing guard, and they returned the greeting to him, as well as to his snake. Kurt walked through the encampment toward his lonely tent, bowing to those he passed who spoke blessings to him, smiling demurely to those who showered praise upon him. At the entrance to his tent, he turned his attention to the sky, and saw the sun sinking low. He hurried in and shut tight the heavy flaps, rushing to prepare. He left the cobra on its carpet with its dinner. Kurt lit oil candles and burnt incense. He quickly bathed, scenting his hair and skin with perfumes. He put on his finest clothes, ones that rarely saw the light of day as of late. His stomach swooped with such excitement that he didn’t eat a bite of his dinner, instead drinking from a flask of wine to calm his butterflies.

A voice, soft and rich like fine velvet, stirred them up again.

“I appreciate all the trouble you go through dressing for me, darling. It’s such a shame I’m just going to tear your clothing off of you.”

After ten long years without hearing it, that voice of pure seduction sounded like the answer to a prayer, the fulfillment of a dream. Kurt couldn’t speak in its presence, so he didn’t. He turned and launched himself at the incredible creature, only partially human for the moment since the sun hadn’t fully set.

Blaine.

Kurt’s one and only true love, the two of them victims of an evil, sadistic curse that kept them apart for all but one night every ten years. And tonight was the night they had been waiting for – their one night together.

Kurt ran his hands down Blaine’s body of smooth, golden scales, feeling them shift and reform beneath his fingers as they became human skin. Blaine backed away sorrowfully from Kurt’s kiss, not wanting to touch him with a serpent’s tongue or accidentally bite him with his fangs, but Kurt insisted, claiming Blaine’s lips with a famished moan.

“I think we are getting closer, my love,” Kurt said, kissing the hood that still surrounded Blaine’s head. “At least they’ve heard of us here. Someone might know something. But you have to be careful. But the officials are suspicious. Please … be careful.”

“I will,” Blaine hissed, shutting his inhuman black eyes to absorb the feeling of Kurt’s tongue licking around the shell of now human ears. When he opened his eyes again, they were golden hazel eyes. Human eyes.

Blaine gazed upon Kurt’s face with these eyes for the first time in a decade, and smiled.

“Ten years,” he whispered, his forked tongue rounding out and his reptilian hiss gone, “and you don’t look as if you’ve aged a day.”

“But, I have,” Kurt said sadly, taking Blaine’s scaled hand and holding it to his heart. “In here. In my heart and in my soul, I grow older, weaker.” When he looked into Blaine’s eyes, they were shimmering with tears. “I’ve lost ten years so far. You’ve lost twenty! I … I can’t take this much longer! Please … please tell me you’ll find it? Please promise me you’ll succeed where I’ve failed?”

“You haven’t failed,” Blaine said softly. “You got us here. You’ve kept us alive. We’ll find the gem that breaks our curse together. I can feel it.”

Kurt nodded, but he didn’t look all that hopeful.

Blaine sighed and pulled Kurt close, his transformation still far from complete.

“What can I give you, my love?” Blaine asked. “What can I do to ease your burden?”

“I only need you, my love. I need the soothing cool of your body to keep me sane, your mouth on mine to help me forget … for just this one night.”

“Don’t you want to wait until I’ve completely changed?” Blaine asked, but he was already burning with want, with need, his hands on his lover’s body, helping him disrobe.

“No,” Kurt said with a stern note of finality. “I don’t want to wait to have you a minute longer.”

Blaine leaned in for another kiss. “Then let’s not wait.”

Nights in the desert during the summer aren’t long enough for those lingering under a curse. Kurt knew that. He cursed it every day. But it’s all they had, all they were going to get, a blessing that, after all this time, was almost too cruel to be thankful for.

The nomads were lulled to sleep by a symphony of moans and felt contented, knowing that the gods they harbored were pleased with the hospitality given them. But those moans turned to sobs when the first light of the sun touched the horizon. All too soon, a slightly shorter man, dressed in plain clothes but wearing a blue veil, emerged from the snake charmer’s tent. The nomads bowed to him without alarm as gods are known to change shape from time to time in order to hide from the dangers of the mortal. The man headed back to town with a carpet tucked beneath his arm, a flute dangling from his shoulder by a leather thong, and a magnificent blue cobra, glittering like a sapphire beneath the merciless light of morning, wrapped around his bicep.

The man set up in the shady spot. He took his time laying out his carpet and tuning his flute. The bazaar was far from bustling yet, so he had a few moments to spare. Besides, earning coin wasn’t his goal for the day. He had a feeling that something was forthcoming.

And he was right.

This time, the guards arrived early.

The smug chief stepped up, prepared to harass the mysterious vagrant, but stopped short when his eyes fell upon the man’s covered face. Even shrouded by his blue veil with barely an inch of skin to be seen, the chief knew the man had changed.

“What happened to you?” the confounded chief asked.

“I have no idea what you mean,” the snake charmer said, nonchalantly disregarding the chief and his guards.

“Where is the man who was here yesterday?”

The veiled man looked up, then looked around, finally meeting the chief’s gaze.

“Who?”

“The snake charmer …”

At this, the veiled man looked down at his cobra, then at his flute, and back up at the flustered guard with sarcastic humor in his eyes.

“The other snake charmer,” the chief groaned with frustration. “The one with the pale face and blue eyes. He had a cobra just like yours.”

“There is no cobra like mine,” Blaine remarked sourly.

“He carried it the same ludicrous way, too,” the chief said, ignoring that comment, “only his was a brilliant gold. A gold like … like … like priceless jewelry.” The chief stuttered to explain himself, looking around to find something he could compare the color to. Then he stopped, squinting inquisitively into the veiled man’s face. “A gold exactly like … the color of your eyes …”

Blaine smirked. He looked to the blue cobra wrapped around his arm. The animal slithered closer to his face and nuzzled its head against Blaine’s chin. Blaine sighed wistfully, his eyes beset with a tremendous pain.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

[ramblesandmumblesofanerd]

Weekly Review: Samurai Jack Season 5 Episode 8

Warning: Lengthy Post Which Contains Saucy Spoilers

Previously on Samurai Jack…

The search for the lost magical sword finally begins as Jack and Ashi search the crater of the last time portal Aku destroyed. But, as Jack recalls the day he lost his blade, he realizes that he did not lose his weapon; it left him. As the Samurai begins to meditate in an attempt to find his blade through a spiritual journey, Ashi fights off and destroys not only an entire army, but also the very woman who has tortured her for years; the High Priestess, her own mother. Jack, meanwhile, realizes the anger he has felt ever since Aku destroyed all of the time portals has blinded him and learns to balance his emotions once more, granting him an audience with three gods who bestow the sword to their chosen warrior. Now, with a newfound luster, Jack and Ashi begin their journey to Aku’s lair to finish what was started fifty years ago.

We begin the episode in distant space, as a strange, rectangular prism floats harmlessly in the vacuum until some stray asteroids push the vessel to Earth. The moment is ominous as all sounds prior to the object’s crash landing is slightly muffled in the void of space, making you feel slightly uncomfortable while you wonder what is inside it

Meanwhile, in a desert town resembling India, Jack and Ashi congregate in the equivalent of an airport terminal, as they are about to board an enormous camel which is no doubt pointed in the direction the two need to go. Jack tries some of the local cuisine, only to temporarily have his head turn into that of a fish. Ashi passes on trying the food.

As Jack and Ashi board their transport, space seems to be quite scarce, as a large group of green anthropomorphic tigers board with them. What follows for a brief moment is awkward, as the two warriors slightly fumble in their confined space. Ashi even notices that something is poking her...Jack’s sword. (...ugh.)

The moment doesn't last long, however, as Jack notices the tigers are literally spelling out their intentions to him, their shirts adorned with letters. Jack and Ashi defend themselves from their inevitable attack, in spite of more awkwardness, and eventually make their escape, opting to continue their journey on foot.

The next minute or so consists of more bonding between Jack and Ashi, as they find a small oasis to drink water from and make familiar hats out of the local fauna. They gaze into each other's eyes for a moment, yet remain silent as they smile and continue their journey.

As the two warriors forge ahead, the encounter a heavy sandstorm, which forces them to take refuge in a huge, monolithic, rectangular building. The two marvel at the advanced design of the place as they begin exploring the vast hallways. They soon realize, however, that this place was once a prison vessel, but no prisoners remain, only poisonous leech like creatures, one of which bites Ashi. Jack, ever quick thinking, sucks the venom out of Ashi's wound before it spreads, and determines leaving to be the best course of action, as a loud roar is heard in the distance.

The two try to make their escape, but the two take are confused by the ship’s design, losing their way to the exit. As they both apologize to one another for their current situation, they quickly try to navigate through what I have named the MC Escher Prison Ship, before finding a large, dome like cell that has been broken, much like the others before. It doesn't take them long to discover what once resided in this cell, as its resident has been the one chasing the two warriors. It has a monster made entirely of poisonous space leeches, which soon swarm Jack and Ashi. The two put up a good fight, but are overwhelmed by the sheer number of leeches, forcing them to make a tactical retreat.

As they run, the two warriors find a door with an automated scanner, which grants them access due to them not being prisoners. Inside is a wide variety of weapons and a computer system that tells Jack all about the monster, designated as Lazarus 92 (I would have gone for The Leech King, but okay), and how to defeat it with a specific device...or at least it would have had Jack not been distracted by Ashi testing one of the guns. Regardless, Jack tentatively takes the device, hoping to learn how to activate it when the time comes, as Ashi arms herself with a shield and spear-like weapon.

The two warriors creep through the halls, with Ashi taking point while Jack fumbles with the device. As the creature makes its next attack, Jack admits he cannot figure out the activation sequence. The two swap places, Jack now defending Ashi while she hides behind her shield with the device. Lazarus is smart however, using a nearby pipe to send a portion of itself to her. The leeches attack her, eating her leaf clothes before she can kill them.

So, yes...Ashi is now naked. Again.

Jack is flustered about this, but Ashi, having been raised in a non-traditional environment, doesn't catch on as to why Jack is acting so awkward about her lack of clothes, or why Jack would make her wear his robes (oh, sorry, his gi) for “protection”. Regardless the two fight on, as Lazarus separates itself into multiple copies to surround and overwhelm it’s prey. Ashi continues to fight with all if her skills while Jack makes one desperate attempt to activate the device, finally managing to do so before the leeches finally overtake their new meal. Jack and Ashi both scream, but before the leeches devour them, the device fully charges up and electrocutes the leeches to the point of killing them.

As Jack and Ashi recover, panting from the pain of both the leeches and electricity, they gaze upon one another. Then, without a word, the two kiss passionately to the tune of Dean Martin’s “Everybody Loves Somebody”.

Cut to credits.

Well, this was...an interesting episode to both watch and review. While I was expecting Jack and Ashi to bond in these recent episodes, I was not expecting their relationship to become this intense. On the one hand, I can see why they’ve have become more romantic and passionate. For one thing, Ashi has seen Jack’s heroism across the land and has this come to admire Jack in many regards, showing her evolution as a character. Plus, now that Jack has been reinvigorated by the gods, she has noticed his undisguised physic. Meanwhile, for Jack, I can see how he has come to admire his new friend just as much as she does for him. When they first met and truly interacted with one another, he felt concern for her in spite of her intentions to kill him. He saw a lost soul in need of help. Then things came full circle when he was the one in need of help and Ashi saved him from The Omen’s influence. Also, the Samurai has quite clearly noticed the former assassin’s skills, sometimes being left flabbergasted by her finesse. Plus, he has also grown to like her on a physical level, as shown a couple episodes ago after the Omen was destroyed. So, in essence, this relationship was feasible from the start.

On the other hand, however, it will take time for me to get used to this newfound sense of romance between the warriors. It’s not that I hate this romance, far from it (I ship it like a harbor), it's just that prior to this development I saw their relationship as more of a “father/daughter” or “teacher/student” style rather than romantic. But, again, there were subtle hints in earlier episodes, so I can't complain too much about this, even if the relationship does feel a tad rushed in spite of the aforementioned hints. Plus, this relationship gives Jack a reason to fight in spite of the time portals being destroyed. Maybe now Jack can accept that he cannot get back to the past, but he can make a new life alongside Ashi once they defeat Aku. But, that will have to wait for the next two episodes, the final episodes of Samurai Jack.

In the meantime, never stop rambling, TM

Oh, and Genndy. My man. Good choice on the music.

Reblogs are always appreciated. YouTube version https://youtu.be/3O0D4EgW6vY

[meltedplastics]

Teenage Pregnancy (For E)

(I)

After a sunny day but a short time ago and Just one art gallery ago, one decent crowd later, Your beer and yelling and present in dream ago Then, passing of an era for the king and queen Of the weekend, us How they felt us and what surrounds us or follows Also that was tenderness Dancing softly, swaying beside me

How can I not and how could I not Crossed paths with me was a Pulp Fiction hotel room We were not friends but all animals need love And they go and seek food when they are hungry Animal Planet is on tv Hot, hot, humid Somewhere, somewhere, where, where Here, here, her, her My heart should miss her and you more Miss my city more Miss my other city more

Instead my money will be spent On tamales, tomatoes, food, myself

Eating for myself and sleeping for myself Doing this all for myself Undressing and getting dressed – But my ring I put on my right ring finger The one that reminds me of planets and stars Makes me wonder if you got her a ring yet What you are doing together I have watched the lines on your face When you changed expressions Some things are obvious to me but not to others Not to her The first notes of, of course, Heart-Shaped Box play My face feels watery right away It goes this way when it should be different, But why, we ask, but we have no real answer, My response is to turn it off And wait, please Think, please

They will remain, either way, pink and wild In their pink and wild world The phase of interphase Inter-Shakira, rediscovery of the love for aforementioned A model walks the runway, Then checks his watch for some reason, then walks back At least not looking like he suffers from opioid withdrawal As the male ballerina did, But a different one takes off his pants After conversing with the Joker, Runs off towards the stage, pants falling Once you mistakenly began to undress in front of me He then goes on stage He takes a ballerina by her hips And twists and turns her this way and that I watched you for a few seconds And ran away cautiously

Lust chosen over envy Envy chosen over pride Pride over jealousy Jealousy over gluttony Gluttony over greed Greed over sloth Chekhov’s works over Shakespeare’s But anything to avoid writer’s block, airplanes, And the generally unpleasant We ask but we have no real answer Trust yourself to ask and try to answer yourself anyways Promise me that you will either find something to look forward to Or something waiting for you will be let closer

(II)

Yet myself, having had enough sparkling wine, But not champagne To let my third eye see that you never really meant All those things you said that night We turned it off We waited We thought it over

Mirror across mirror gives negative energy Sharp objects or knife, end pointed towards someone, too When we walked crossing paths, The look nobody saw you give me No, God saw you Lights dimmed but flickering You did not Even bring her She stayed at home Who knows why but Gifting knives Is a bad omen of negative energy Lamento, frio, But for me it just happened, for me it just happens Sometimes yes, other times it just makes me lie to myself Like no way he remembers, it even bothers him probably, We met, it was a few days later we met again but You were acting like you were hit on the head She was with me, too She thought you were “cuter in person” Maybe that sorry-for-someone version of it, or not Well, it all turned creamy beige Since then Murky waters Apparently another bad sign Of letting go or not to let go To leave only to leave again For the return, planned anyways

Upon sleeping in a new place The bride and groom dream is a good one They will ask you If there was music, if the bride wore white If she was happy or not, if there were many people And food and alcohol and dancing But actually, chances are something seemed off

(III)

Some parts of the day feel grim The doctor in the morning felt grim The font on the records kept Of the patients Feels slightly grim Even the numbers, my date of birth As if they seemed incomplete As if something else More numbers, they are unknown to me, Should be there too Maybe that is just me and maybe just me But look, I find, since washing by hand Became a thing for me, That there is very little else more therapeutic Then, wait, Countries away, forty sleeps away Still thinking of you, just calmly As calm as this place is, Birth date To give birth to something, a genesis The bride wore white, you remembered Also she was drunk, Really drunk, it was a bit sad In Russian, you have options Of expressing disdain and calling someone certain things Way more potential options I swear at someone and I get an increased cuss time By at least 1.5 times more You can tell you really done it, You can tell then And I keep going back Because you asked me what I wanted After thinking I was done with Trying to get you to try And get me to want you “Just wanted to say “Hi” and that was really good” And it sounded amazing Reminding me of something Maybe reminiscent of Robot monsters having really weird sex or dying Also there was a very particular mood Like wanderlust, the experience of it

Travels have made me simply experience things Crying for what seemed like no reason at all Watching people move with ease Through rough and rusty history And sun-damagedness with tired skin, glowing “Go to Rome” or “It’s just like being in a movie” or something, she told me Trust me, now, going to Venice Completely changed me It haunts my dreams ever since An abandoned lover Asking me to come back soon It was moody, expensive; me That eerily peaceful water All of it, imagined as tears Left behind for us from Goddesses, if they exist

Here people sense my tensions About how much control I have Or how many locks refuse to close in my grasp Here waters are plenty Drinking or bottled water is a hassle It is probably masochistic of me, Kind of liking the ways of deficits of options, Food in our fridge, toothpaste, anything apparently, they say And it is, teaching me Their ways of getting by Move forwards

I saw a dead stingray I saw dental work being done I drank wine that someone made, From around the block from fruits I watched Closer for the first time and it was good But I was uncertain about the ending as I missed it I watched my ex move on fast It seemed like one week about I have seen so many doctors I have had so many appointments A few to spare So many dim evening lights That happen Over what changes in variation So slightly but just enough It passes the threshold And the aura, makes another and it is your aura now You want it without knowing Again, that stingray got picked up By its gills or something or eyes and it reminded me Of what you are doing with your wealth, estate, sanity Girlfriend, you called her You have no clue what you both are doing, in reality Scornful how you are acting like this is not in reality, Yet inspiring, perhaps of only insanity, And it needs to get out, Along with my insomnia for it all, questions of why, technical, Out of my hair Inclined to do that dance and sing that song Again, the question concerning choosing her The logic Tail of the dead stingray It was still moving in the ocean when you called me things Deep blue, chilling Psycho, you called me, looking away Dim light of the moon in a dim Beckoning dark cloud A light, empty raindrop Severely lonely thread Without construction Without anything but itself And the way that it Weaves, binds, tangles, Transfers, ties, deflects us Twenty-something skin