#that line in the musical during or surrounding Reel Love where she talked about the wedding and and is like and then the fucking rapture ha

[inbetweenhours]

subscribe to my s2 Joel is actually s1 Joel remade for many reasons but specifically now because I'm thinking about the fact that s1 Lizzie just kinda wandered off and THEORETICALLY she is think ancient thousand year old sea creature her living another thousand years is not impossible and furthermore her reconnecting with the ocean and regaining her memories is also not an impossibility methinks. So what I'm saying in s1 Lizzie memories or not wandering into the s2 time and land and she's the only merling / fin-folk that anyone has seen in centuries bordering a millennia so Joel hears about her presence fairly quick and all but has a crisis because of the separation he has put between his identity as king of Mezalea and as god of Stratos and when he meets Lizzie it is wrong because he has never been taller than her but by god its her, he thought he’d forgotten her face. Lizzie regaining her memories if she hasn't already, and meeting Hermes. I want Lizzie step mom for Hermes so bad because The Ocean Queen and the Mezalean king never got to have children and I think she would love Hermes 

[maddiwrites]

The Hybrid (Prologue)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: The Pogues rekindle their friendship with their old childhood best friend and JJ’s first crush, Y/N. Old feelings resurface for JJ and Y/N, possibly leading to a summer neither one of them could ever forget. Due to past trauma, Y/N is reluctant to let anyone into her heart, but JJ never backs down from a challenge, even if he knows it will come back to haunt him in the end.

Note: So happy to be back with another series!!! I honestly really missed posting. Unlike Secrets of the Shore, updates will be slower because I don’t have them all written out yet. A couple things I wanted to let you know before you read. I based Y/N’s family off of Gilmore Girls. I thought they were the perfect fit for this story and the show in general and I just love their dynamic. (Including Luke who I renamed Steve for obvious reasons). Chapter 1 will explain more obviously but I wanted to give you guys a little snippet of the characters and relationships. So let me know what y'all think!

Word Count: 3.3k

Outer Banks. Paradise on Earth. It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island. As you know, the Outer Banks is essentially divided into two groups. If we want to be blunt - it’s the rich and the poor. Figure Eight is home to the rich. Aka the Kooks. With houses bigger than necessary with extra rooms that go untouched, boats the size of homes on the Cut - the other side of the island. Most people who live on Figure Eight are your naturally raised assholes. People who don’t know the value of a dollar and take advantage of people who do most of their dirty work that lets them prance around the island with perfectly manicured fingernails. These hard workers are the Pogues. They live on the south side of the island where most Kooks wouldn’t be found dead. They serve fancy meals at the country club for shitty tips, mow lawns, and work their asses off at any other job for minimum wage. The drastic difference in lifestyles tend to cause many spats and arguments between the two communities. Especially between the teenagers who still don’t know how to control their raging emotions or know when to bite back their tongue. For the Kooks, every fight is a fight for dominance where as the Pogues fight for equality - to put the Kooks in their place. Many of these fights happen at summer parties where the two groups clash to find a good time with their friends filled with alcohol, drugs, and good music.

That’s where they find themselves tonight. The infamous Pogues. John B, JJ, Kie, Pope, and now Sarah Cameron. Although born a natural Kook, she’s earned her spot next to the adventurous teens and her boyfriend. Unlike her brother Rafe who basically is the leader of his notorious group. Topper and Kelce are his best friends who follow him blindly.

The Pogues watch them from their spot surrounding the keg. Kie purses her lips in distaste as the boys cat call for the ladies around them. Somehow most of them finding it flattering. Sarah sips on her beer to hide her embarrassment, often wondering how she and her brother grew up to be so different. Pope and John B stay mostly disinterested, only worried if they try to make a pass at an unwilling girl or fire a degrading comment at their short tempered friend. JJ Maybank is known around the island for his trouble making behavior. Usually if he gets in trouble for fights, no one ever asks who the other people were in the scuffle. Because if JJ Maybank is in the fight, he’s the one who started it, right? Wrong. In fact, JJ usually is never the one to start it. He’s good at keeping his head down and only speaking when spoken to when it comes to the Kooks - the only form of advice worth taking from his father. But his short temper is something the Kooks his age loved to take advantage of because they liked getting a rise out of him. It was like an adrenaline rush.

Luckily, tonight both groups were keeping their distance, either only talking to each other or random Tourons that have found their way to the party. This is usually JJ’s favorite part of a boneyard party. Finding his one fish in a sea of many that he can reel in just for the night and never have to worry about seeing them again.

He has his eyes set on a beautiful blonde making her way to the bonfire when all of a sudden Kie’s voice pulls him out of his trance.

“What’s she doing here?”

JJ follows her line of vision, spotting you walking down the wooden steps that lead to the beach, pulling your best friend behind you by his wrist. He first notices your smile and how it brightens up your entire face. Then of course his eyes scan down your slim but athletically toned body. You’re wearing a pair of jean shorts and a cropped white T shirt that says UNC across the chest. Who knew someone could look so good without even trying?

Well JJ did. He’s known it for a while.

“Careful. I think you’re drooling,” John B whispers in his best friend’s ear.

JJ pushes him away and mutters, “Shut up. No I’m not.”

But maybe he was.

Y/N Y/L/N is a unique resident of the island. Unlike majority of the island, she doesn’t fall in either Kook or Pogue category. She’s what everyone calls the Hybrid.

People who work hard for what they have but haven’t fallen to be Pogue status. Quite literally living in the middle in a place they call the Crest.

Your story is well versed among the gossipers of the island (which tends to be just about everybody).  And mainly that’s because of who your grandparents are.  Claude and Doris Y/L/N. Two of the riches people on the island, living in a three story house on the beach. Many people fear them, others envy them. Most feel both. Even Ward Cameron walks on egg shells around them, which is quite often, considering he works for Claude. They’re the kind of people who have never heard of Barefoot wine or Walmart. They keep their noses up and turn a blind eye to the suffering communities around them. Thirty four years ago, Doris gave birth to a daughter that couldn’t be more opposite than them. Lorelai Y/L/N was a wild child. A rule breaker. She snuck out at nights, dated boys her parents would never approve of, dabbled in breaking the law here and there. It didn’t matter how many times her parents disciplined her. She always managed to make her parents’ life a living hell. 

No one was surprised when word got passed around that Lorelai had gotten pregnant at eighteen. Although it was with another Kook, she brought shame upon her family name when she refused to get an abortion, even when her mom tried dragging her by her hair. 

Lorelai risked everything by running away from her parents’ home in the middle of a windy night. With only one suitcase, the baby daddy out of the picture, and less than a grand in her pocket, she managed to make a life for herself on the South side of the island. She worked two jobs, found an affordable apartment for cheap rent, and managed to save some money before her babies were born.

Yes, babies. As in more than one. Five months after running away from home, she gave birth to twin girls and they instantly became her entire life. With the help of her best friend Steve, who she met one month after being on her own, meeting him at his automotive shop when she very much literally rolled her junky car into the garage, she raised you and your sister on the Cut. The two of you are her greatest accomplishment. Every now and then, she mentally throws up a middle finger to everybody who doubted her, proud of who the two of you have become. 

Right before you turned ten, your mom took a business risk and opened her own Cafe. The Bikini Beans cafe, very popular amongst both Kooks and Pogues. The business did so well that she was able to move the three of you out of your shitty apartment into a beautiful one story home with three bedrooms in between the Cut and Figure Eight, aka the Crest, the summer going into your freshman year.

You actually used to be best friends with John B Routledge, JJ Maybank, and Pope Heyward. It was easier being friends with them than the girls, finding more joy in sports and rough housing than makeup and gossip. 

Doing the same summer that you moved, your mom pulled you out of Kildare County High and placed you in Outer Banks Private Academy. Aka Kook Academy. Around this time, your grandparents had also become more involved in your life, and you wondered if they had somehow bribed your mom into forcing you to transfer schools. You tried asking her during one of your many fights that started with you begging her to keep you at Kildare County High, but she quickly shut you down and told you to be grateful. That was ironic coming from the woman who ran away from the people giving her an expensive high school career. 

You had no choice but to do what your grandparents wanted and attend Kook Academy. Making friends was a lot harder there than it was in Kildare County High. You managed to make one friend in your freshman year. Andre Cortez. Due to an incident a couple years back, you built thick walls and Andre was the only one able to break them down. You were grateful for your friendship, but hanging out with him was nothing like hanging out with the Pogues. 

When you transferred schools, you lost touch with the Pogues slowly. Your life became busy with school and playing dress up for your grandparents and the boys were starting to work. Eventually all contact was cut and ever since, you’ve felt a void in your heart.

“Look,” You tell Andre. “I told you I would be your wing woman and I’m not backing down from what could possibly be the most important role in my life.”

You didn’t notice the Pogues or any of the stares around you. It’s true you’re not much of a party girl. I mean, you’ll go out here and there, have a drink or two, but you felt more comfortable at places where you weren’t surrounded by drunk and horny teenagers. 

“He’s probably not even here,” Andre says. He’s trying to look nonchalant but you notice the way his eyes dance from face to face of the people around him. 

“He told you he was going to be here, right?” You ask him with one brow raised. Andre nods. “Then, we’ll find him.”

Sarah and Kie never made any effort to talk to you at school, but to be fair, neither have you. You’ve heard mixed reviews, some people call them spoiled brats, ungrateful...some even go as far as calling them ‘The Cut Sluts.’ Of course you never take any of those things to heart. You can’t judge a book but it's cover. Plus, they’re friends with your old best friends. They can’t be that bad for John B and JJ and Pope to be hanging out with them, right?

“You think she'll come over here?” Kie asks. No one’s ever said it out loud, but her friends wonder if deep down, Kie was a little jealous of you. Because you were their first real girl friend. You were the first girl they ever let in and opened their heart too. That was a tough pill for Kie to swallow when she originally thought she was that girl. Of course the boys don’t like you any more than Kie and vice versa. But sometimes Kie wishes she could have grown up with the boys the same way you had. 

“Probably not. Unless she’s drinking,” Pope says and motions towards the keg they’re near. 

“I have an idea,” John B says and fills up a red solo cup. He hands it to JJ. “Why don’t you go offer her a cup.”

JJ snags the cup out of John B’s hand and glares at him. “Fuck off, dude.” 

“Do you guys ever see her around at school?” Pope asks the girls.

Sarah shrugs. “Not really. She doesn’t really get a long with my old group of friends.”

Kie rolls her eyes. “No one gets along with your old group of friends.”

Sarah playfully shoves Kie by the shoulder and they laugh. 

“I heard she turned down Raymond Easterling a couple weeks ago and he didn’t take it very well,” Pope says, remembering the words he heard from the kids in his class roaming the school hallways. 

Raymond goes to Kildcare County High with the Pogues. He’s known to be a trouble maker and a class clown. He works with JJ at the country club. The kid can make JJ laugh sometimes, but he wouldn’t necessarily say he likes him all that much. He can be an arrogant asshole with an ego bigger than it should be.

“She turns down everybody,” Sarah says. “Some people at my school call her ‘The Heart Sucker’ because she can pull people in with the snap of her fingers and break their heart just as quickly.”

Something stirred in the pit of JJ’s stomach.

“Hey! Where you going?” John B calls out to JJ who’s making his way deeper into the sea of people on the beach. 

“Taking advantage of a good boneyard party, my friend,” JJ calls back and slugs the rest of his beer. Looking left and right, he searches for the blonde he had eyes on earlier. Because right now, he needed a distraction. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The party starts to die down a little after midnight. Some people leave to find another party, some are passed out in the back of their cars, and others had already found what they were looking for - someone to leave with. 

The boneyard party wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be. You had found a couple of kids from your school who were nice enough to make small talk with you while Andre left to find a guy named Devon, a Touron he’s been talking to who’s renting for the entire summer. 

Now you’re waiting for Andre to come back so the two of you can walk home. You find comfort under a slanted palm tree towards the back of the beach, scrolling through random apps on your phone to pass the time.

“Y/N?” You look up from you phone and smile when you see your former best friend inching closer to you, squinting in the dark to see if it’s really you. 

“Maybank? What are you still doing here?” You stand up and pat the sand off your hands on you thighs. 

Your heart skips a beat in your chest when you look at him. He’s beautiful. Lucious blonde hair, perfectly tanned skin, piercing blue eyes. You always knew JJ was going to grow up to be gorgeous. He was cute when he was younger. At least you always thought so. 

“I was just leaving, but I thought I saw you sitting here and wanted to make sure you were all right.” He knows it’s not like you to stay this late at a party, especially all by yourself. When he first saw you sitting there, he didn’t know if he should say something. Mostly due to nerves of seeing you again. But the other Pogues had already left and he didn’t trust anyone else at the party to be near you alone late at night. It didn’t matter if you were sober or not. 

“Aw. Was JJ Maybank worried about me?” You tease. Talking to him felt easy. As if you never stopped being friends. A few years ago, you and JJ had the best banter. Despite constantly bickering back and forth, John B always swore the two of you would get married one day. The two of you just always clicked like a natural connection. And even now, when only seeing each other every now and then for a few minutes at a time, it felt normal. You smirk when JJ rolls his eyes. “I’m kidding. Yeah, I’m okay. Just waiting for my friend to come back from his little rendezvous,” You say. 

JJ nods. “Did you have a good time? I feel like I never you see at these things.”

“Yeah. Parties aren’t really my thing. But Andre was nervous to meet this guy he’s been talking to for a little while so I came for moral support.”

“Looks like he didn’t need much of the support.”

You shrug. “It’s better that way, anyway. I don’t mind waiting for him. What about you?”

“What about me?” 

“Did you have a good time tonight? I hear your quite the ladies’ man at these things.”

“Come on, Sparky. You know better than to believe everything you hear.”

Your face lights up at the mention of your old nickname. You use to always be busting out the seams with energy. On days where the boys just wanted to chill and play video games, you would drag them to the park for a game of kick ball. Or when they wanted to sleep in after a long week, you showed up at 8 am to drag them out of bed to catch the morning waves. So one day JJ started calling you Sparky, and it stuck with the rest of your little gang. You always pretended to hate it, but secretly you loved it. 

“Oh I don’t believe everything I hear. I do, however, believe what I see. And your arm around that tall blonde in the little black dress looked quite convincing.”

You first saw JJ at the party when he was making his way to the pretty girl by the water. Your teeth involuntarily clenched and there was a twisted feeling in your stomach you couldn’t shake whenever you looked at them. 

In that instant, JJ felt grateful for the dark sky. He felt the rush of heat rise up his neck to his cheeks before he could stop it. He knew the motivation to see that girl was because of you. He just wished you never saw it. But he didn’t know why. 

“I walked her home. She wasn’t my type,” JJ plays it off. 

“I didn’t realize you had a type,” You giggle, but a small part felt relieved to hear this. “So what is it? Your type?”

Hybrids with a Pogue attitude, bright smile, beautiful eyes, and a mouth that could make any sailor turn around, JJ thought. 

“I don’t know. Haven’t figured it out yet.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Well, when you figure it out let me know.”

“Why? So you can transform into my ideal girl?” He teases.

Now you’re the one thankful for the dark sky. “In your dreams, Maybank. But so far, I do have the perfect wing-woman track record, so if you needed help -”

“I don’t think I need any help in that department. Thank you very much.”

You throw your hands up in fake surrender. “Ooo. Touchy subject.”

JJ rolls his eyes at the same time your phone pings with a text message. You pull it out of your shorts pocket and open the text from Andre, telling you to leave without him because he’s gonna stay out late with Devon and won’t know what time he’s going to be done.

“Everything all right?” JJ says, watching you read the message.

You lock your phone and stuff it in your back pocket again. “Like I said. Perfect wing-woman track record.”

“That was Andre?” 

“Yeah. He’s most likely not coming home tonight.”

“Lucky bastard.”

“At least one of us is,” You joke. 

JJ’s grin slightly falters but you don’t catch it. You have no idea how much he wishes the two of you could be equally as lucky. Together. 

“Well, I should probably go,” You say and bend down to grab your flip flops.

“Let me walk you home,” JJ offers. 

“Oh no. It’s okay -”

“You’re cute. It’s wasn’t up for debate. I’m not letting you walk back by yourself.”

You scoff lightly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just humor me.”

You roll your eyes and smirk but choose not to argue. In fact, you’re excited to spend more time with JJ. It’s been so long.

“Fine.”

“And here I thought you might’ve grown out of your stubborn phase by now.”

You shove him playfully by the shoulder. “Shut up!”

And just like that, it felt like old times.

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 20

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader      Content: Language, possible errors  A/N: Some ppl asked for a playlist... so ofc I made one! 

Series Playlist or Chap 20 Playlist

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 20: Little Lion Man

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When Regulus was younger, his aunt Andromeda and Sirius were obsessed with Muggle stories. Andromeda would send them loads of books every month to the local Muggle post office to prevent their parents from confiscating them. He remembers the ten minute walks there and back, Sirius holding his hand tight, even stopping to buy ice cream during the warmer seasons. They would greet the delivery men and women, picking up a heavy stack of wrapped books before waddling out, each boy mirroring a large grin.

Every night at twilight, when their parents were asleep, Sirius would crawl into his bed and read to Regulus in a hushed voice. He would read a different story every night, lulling him to sleep. Sirius spent hours gushing about the fantastical tales Muggles wrote; how magical and mystical their minds were despite not having an ounce of magical blood. From Superman to Batman, the Joker to Daleks, Prince Caspian to King Miraz; Regulus quickly learned that they all had one common theme: the good guys and the bad guys.

Regulus often spent his time grappling with the notion; what made someone good? Because the definition changes depending on the person.

Were the good guys good because they were selfless — passionate? Those deemed good never let themselves be seen as selfish. The heroes would sacrifice themselves for the greater good, even going as far as giving up their loved ones. Or maybe it was because they went against the odds. But villains did that too.

So he re-worded the question; what made someone bad? Was it their selfishness or greed? Was it putting themselves above others? Did they know they were on the wrong side of history? Make a mistake, once, twice — but surely, that didn’t make someone bad. Did it?

If virtue is understood by both sides, then the bad guys would immediately cross that line time and time again. They lacked wisdom and truthfulness, filled with too much pride and vanity.

But now as he began to grow up far too quickly for a fourteen-year-old boy, he realized that there was more to people than just being good or evil, a saviour or tormentor, light versus darkness.

The definition of good and bad depended on who told the story and Regulus didn’t know who controlled his; him or his parents. The line was so blurred that he couldn’t objectively make the decision himself anymore. Was he more bad than good?

Laughter — rich and inviting beckoned throughout the library, snapping him out of his thoughts again; but it did nothing but chip away at his heart. Regulus got up, shoving his books and parchment into his bag, making sure to hide his face before they saw him. Today, the Marauders had come earlier than expected and he was caught off guard. He’d been doing everything to avoid them out of pure shame.

Before he went to turn, he eyed Sirius from the shadows. He smiled, carefree and happy, clinging onto Pettigrew, ruffling his hair like he once did to him.

What made them so special, so loved and cherished by Sirius? How were they able to make him laugh so effortlessly, able to brighten his day with a mere glance? What made them more of a family than he ever was to him?

But he knew, it was their family’s values and it had been taunting him every waking moment.

It’s not like he didn’t want to escape that night, but he wasn’t Sirius. He was never as bright or strong or as good as him. Sirius was bold and courageous and certainly had more bravery than he would ever have. Regulus was far too weak, a puppet for his parents to control. Sirius was everything Regulus was too afraid to be — a reminder of what he could have turned into.

Besides, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that his parents would have killed Kreacher had he left. And this way with Sirius gone, it left Regulus to be the sole heir. Sirius was free, not being hunted down by his parents now that he bore the title. That was his gift to him, freeing Sirius of all the responsibilities, pain and grief. He owed him that much. Besides, Regulus had already mourned the childhood he never had; that made everything easier.

The day Sirius left was the day before they were set to leave for Hogwarts again and the impact of his absence was massive. He no longer heard the thumping of loud Muggle music nor the clanking of piano keys or doors slamming shut. There wasn’t any screaming aside from his parents shrieking at him for taking his father's wand. The stairs creaked; he could even hear Kreacher padding his way to his room.

It was eerily quiet and lifeless in that damned house, and he was only gone for a day.

Regulus hadn’t been taking it well. Nearly every night, his face was pressed into a pillow muffling his sobs. Sirius had kept his promise, he hadn’t talked to him since.

If only he had a scarlet tie…

Ha! He could laugh; he’d been trying to get his attention in little ways. He’d even gone as far as growing out his hair to match his — coping by writing letters every night with words he wished he could’ve said before storing them in a box under his bed. Forever unsent. Hell, Regulus was a coward, every bit as pathetic as Sirius deemed.

Ever the winter break, his parents were relentless, dumping everything that was meant for Sirius onto him. Letters were sent daily; there were talks about an arranged marriage, lumps of money now being transferred under his name, getting the dark mark… and he was being watched. Every interaction he had, his parents always knew. Especially with Muggleborns; he had to limit his interactions with them to almost nothing, or it wouldn’t end well for either.

His mind reeled back to that night, where his parents and extended family toyed with that blonde Muggle, leaving her half-dead on the dining table, the image branded in his head. It made him sick just thinking about it, he never knew what happened to her, he was too busy trying to muffle out her screams.

Regulus had been questioning everything he was taught. Sirius’ words echoed in his head; was he willing to kill Muggleborns solely because of their blood status? He's a believer in old values and traditions: yes, blood should be kept pure, but to kill Muggles… that was completely different. He’d seen how his dearly beloved aunt was burned off the tapestry, threatened and almost killed for marrying a Muggleborn — a Muggleborn who he’s met and liked and respected. His family tortured them for the sake of it and more. That wasn’t the move of someone good, those were the actions of someone evil; filled with greed, spite and selfishness. But how was he going to stop a whole bloodline from their mania?

Some may call it obedience, the way he’s listened to his parents all these years blindly, but to him, it’s respect. But did he believe that? Did they deserve to be respected? He was miserable and this wasn’t a healthy way to show filial piety.

What did he believe in?

Perhaps there wasn’t such a thing, good or evil, maybe there was only power.

Regulus was lost and confused and most of all, lonely. He remembered Sirius promised him once, before the day he was set to leave for Hogwarts for the first time, that he would never be alone. What a funny thing, promises.

Tears were forming fast and if he didn’t leave then, they would fall any second now. He needed to get out of the library.

Regulus asked himself again; what made someone good or bad — or rather, was he good or bad? He’s veering towards bad.

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After catching word from Mary that Remus’ birthday was approaching, Y/N had been knitting him a sweater in her spare time (or trying to). It was sweet, simple and showed that she’d put effort into it, especially since he taught her. Although, the sweater was lopsided and she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of a certain stitch or how to close sections. Perhaps she should use magic.

Her fingers fiddled with the needle, looping the yarn over the other side. Without looking up, she made a sharp turn into the library before crashing into a hunched-over figure; sniffling and a complete mess.

An apology dangled from her lips before recognizing the figure as Regulus. It had been two months since she’d last seen him and in short, he looked like shit. His skin was grey and lost all sense of a youthful dewy glow. If Sirius had dark eye circles or Remus looked tired, Regulus beat them by miles.

Y/N stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do before gently patting his shoulder. “Regulus?” She asked softly, nothing more than a whisper.

There was a flash of pure terror as he looked up, his eyes nervous as his head spun around to look around the place like he always did. He looked mad, almost unhinged as his hands gently pushed her away, signalling for her to leave. “I — I can’t be seen around you.”

“Can’t? What are you going on abo —” She cut herself off, ignoring the matter entirely. He clearly wasn’t in the right mindset.

His voice was strained, quiet as he kept on murmuring, he almost sounded angry. “You can’t — we’ll both get in trouble. Y/N, go — please… ”

At this, Y/N felt her skin rise in small goosebumps. She looked back to the library, just making out her friend’s figures before looking down at Regulus again. She wasn’t going to leave him like this: crying and delusional.

She took a deep inhale before bending down, picking up her needles and yarn off the ground and slipped them into her bag. She placed a cautious arm around Regulus to keep him upright. “Come with me.” But Regulus wouldn’t budge, not until she flicked down her hood, obscuring her face.

She led him up to the astronomy tower, walking and twisting around before setting him down on a nearby bench, making sure to lock any entrances. They sat in silence, aside from Regulus attempting to regulate his breathing. The cold whipping wind tossed his hair and sank into her bones. With a few charms, they were both warm again, but still able to breathe in the crisp air.

He remained quiet. Y/N didn’t push. Instead, she began babbling softly about random things to distract him. When she heard a sharp exhale of air, mimicking a half-hearted chuckle was when she knew he had calmed down.

“Thank you,” he muttered. It’s quiet, barely above a whisper. Regulus’ cheeks were pink, colour finally returning to him from either embarrassment or the cold.

“Any time,” she smiled warmly. Her hand reaches into her bag, fishing out the snacks that were meant for the study group: blackberries that were for Remus, a muffin for Marlene, were now shared between them. She tried to encourage him to eat, to regain any sort of energy.

He listened without complaint, a tense yet thankful air engulfed them. It was only until he finished the food, about an hour gone by, was when he spoke again. “Why are you being so nice to me.” It’s not even a question, just an odd accusation.

She thinks for a while, searching for the best answer. “I wished someone was there for me when I was going through a hard time.”

“But you don’t know me.”

Her eyebrows raised, “Well, let’s get to know each other then. I’ll tell you something about myself and then you can go?”

Regulus looked up at her with a calculated expression, cautious and looked uncomfortable but he nodded.

“Let’s start simple. I have an owl named Celeste.”

He gulped, looking back to the entrance. His answer came delayed, strained and she wondered if she had pushed him too far. “I play the violin.”

Y/N smiled largely. “The violin is beautiful! Hmm… I can’t ride a broomstick to save my life, unlike you.”

At this, he smiles — a real genuine smile that causes his eyes to crinkle and sparkle. “Really?” His eyes burned with curiosity before he looked down, “I can’t swim.”

“Swim?” She repeats, chuckling to herself, “Who doesn’t know how to swim?”

“You’re making me feel grand. Terribly uncalled for.”

Her eyes rolled, “You should learn. It can save your life one day. Who wants to drown?”

“Maybe I’ll ask McGonagall — I heard for tougher punishments she’ll throw you into the black lake.”

“You’re the perfect candidate then.”

After a while, way past curfew, Regulus seemed cheerier; his tear-stained cheeks now replaced with a smile and relaxation. That day, Y/N unaware, was a day Regulus would never forget.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

March 8th, 1976

“Sirius, shut up.”

“You’re the one yelling!”

“... Right.”

Excused from their afternoon classes because their Puffskein was about to hatch, the Marauder’s dorm was bustling with panic and bickering. When Y/N partnered with Sirius for their project, she expected fighting (which happened every day) but not for Sirius to be like this. He’d been running around the dorm, grabbing warm towels, bowls of water and taking out his panic on her. He gripped his textbook, flicking through notes to see if they had everything. It was as if he was preparing for the birth of an actual baby.

She silently watched him, her mind thinking about Regulus rather than their project. This was the only time she and Sirius were alone and wondered if she should mention his freakout the other day but stopped — it didn’t take a genius to know they weren’t on friendly terms.

Since that night, she’d seen Regulus almost daily, but only at night before their study group. She would spend an hour or so with him before the Marauder or girls came barraging in; Regulus left before they appeared. The entire situation left her deeply confused, worried and most of all, suspicious.

“We need Kettleburn —”

Annoyance began nipping at her. “Calm down.”

“I’m not going to calm down!”

Sirius paced, both firing snide jabs. Too preoccupied in his panicked state, he didn’t hear the quiet cracking of the white shell, forming the shape of a lightning bolt before cascading over.

“Um, Black?”

“Let’s not start. How are you so —”

“Get your ass over here now!”

Sirius pressed his lips together immediately and rushed over, both huddled side by side near the roaring fireplace. The shell twitched, cracking more and they both gasped in amazement. The process was faster than either expected as they saw the small tuft of cream fur peek out along with a pair of black eyes. Its long pink tongue slipped out, already looking for its first meal. Y/N scrambled to grab a nearby dish of dried spiders to feed it while Sirius cradled it in his hand. His smile was wide, buzzing with excitement as he observed it. His hands gently glided over the soft fur as it emitted a low humming sound.

A deep chuckle erupts from Sirius and she could feel the vibrations from how close they were. His laugh, which once made her cringe, now made her skin feel fuzzy and heart flutter. But, it wasn’t like that, she thinks. Of course not! She still wants to jinx him, maybe even throw him into the fireplace. Yes, that’s it.

She snaps out of her violent thoughts when she finds Sirius already looking at her, a pretty flush to his skin as he observes her softly. Her brows crinkled; instead of a frown or on the cusp on an insult, he smiles.

“Do you want to hold it?” Y/N nods eagerly. Sirius shifts his body, placing the Puffskein in the palms of her hands. It’s incredibly soft, adorable and when it leans into her, falling asleep, she swore she fell in love.

“What do you want to name it?” She mumbled, afraid that if she were any louder it might wake it up. Sirius takes a long time to ponder and Y/N braces herself for an insult, already thinking of a plethora of her own.

“It looks like porridge… Oatmeal!”

“Are you serious?”

“I’d be worried if I wasn’t.”

Y/N tries to suppress her smile but fails. The Puffskein did look like a grain of oatmeal. Plain and simple, she liked it.

“Hello, Oats! You’re so cute — I could just eat you up!”

“Morbid much.”

Hours went by before they ultimately decided to head down to Kettleburn’s office for an examination of Oats’ health. Sirius cradled it in a small blanket, shielding it from the rest of the world. Marlene and Dorcas were standing by the sidelines, joining them as they walked past.

“Yours hatched already? Aw, it looks so cute!” Dorcas squealed. Her hands reached out, giddy as Sirius gently placed it into her arms but not without fretting. Marlene only looked down at her with a soft gaze, her face becoming pink as she wrapped an arm around her.

“Give it a rest. She’s not going to drop it.”  

“Now you, McKinnon?! I’m a father now! Our kid deserves the best care! Right, L/N?”

It catches her off guard. Sirius trying to include her in a conversation? That’s a new milestone. “Of course; the proudest parents.”

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

Once done with Kettleburn, Sirius went to bring Oats back to his dorm, parting as Y/N went to find Lily who took her notes for her afternoon classes.

Out in the courtyard, walking around in the snow, both Lily and Snape wandered around before she picked up a snowball, throwing it at him. Snape sent her a deadpanned look as Lily kept hurling snowballs. Most missed him, others hit him before he retaliated and threw some back.

Y/N halted, watching the scene play out and debated whether or not to approach them. But decided to, shouting while striding up to them.

“Petals!”

Lily’s smile grew before her head whipped to her. She stopped her snowball fight, getting up to bounce her way over to her. Snape followed in suit, but as Lily began to babble on and on about what she missed, Snape’s eyes bore into her, vice versa.

“I’ll see you later, Sevy! We need to go,” said Lily, already turning to walk away. Y/N lingered back a pause, just enough to see Snape draw his wand and shoot a spell at her. She had just enough time to block it. Whatever spell it was, it sparkled like a firecracker. If Snape could easily send a hex or jinx her way inboard daylight with Lily just a little ahead, what was he willing to do had they been alone.

His angel persona around her was dropping quickly.

“Whiskers!” Shouted Lily. Her arms raised in question. “Get over here!”

A flurry of thoughts bombarded her before she could process them. She was about to cause a scene, yell and scream until that nasty sneer fell off his face until she felt a tug on her arm. Lily hooked her arm around Y/N, pulling her away. But she still had her wand drawn, ready to block another spell. She tossed one last look at him; he smiled wickedly.

“Are you okay?”

She had enough tip-toeing around Snape. She remained tranquil, gave him the benefit of the doubt and respected their friendship but that was enough.

“No, I’m not actually,” keeping her tone as soft as possible, trying not to sound defensive, “Why do you waste your time around him?”

Lily paused, her eyes going wide. An offended expression crossed her face as she took a moment to digest the remark. “Sev? What are you getting at?” Her tone was guarded which had Y/N debating whether or not to drop the conversation entirely. A fight with Lily was not on her to-do list.

“I just think you should be careful around him.”

“I can look out for myself,” she grumbled, “Severus has been there for me for years. I know how to separate myself from the wrong sorts.”

“I’m only saying this to look out for —”

“I know, but he isn’t like what you’re thinking.” Lily didn’t look mad, just tired as she nodded sharply. Taking a stack of parchment from her bag, Lily handed it to her and walked faster. “You’re around Potter too much. He isn’t like what he says he is.”

Y/N felt annoyance blossom in her chest at the accusation of James but bit her tongue to avoid more conflict. Right now, they trod on dangerous waters.

Neither spoke to each other for the rest of the day.

[unpopularwiththepopulace]

Chicago at Long Beach, LA, 1992: A Story of Bebe Neuwirth, Choreography, Riots, Revivals, and Relevance

Recently and rather excitingly, more footage made its way to YouTube of the 1992 version of Chicago staged at Long Beach in LA, featuring Bebe Neuwirth as Velma and Juliet Prowse as Roxie.

Given its increased accessibility and visibility, this foregrounds the chance to talk about the show, explore some of its details, and look at the part it might have played as a contribution to the main ‘revival’ of Chicago in 1996 – which has given the show one of the most resonant and highly enduring legacies seen within the theatre ever.

This Civic Light Opera production at Long Beach was staged in 1992, four years before the ‘main’ revival made its appearance at Encores! or had its subsequent Broadway transfer, and it marked the first time a major revival of Chicago had been seen since the original 1975 show disappeared nearly 15 years previously.

This event is of particular significance given its position as the first step in the chain of events that make up part of this ‘new Chicago’ narrative and the resultant entire multiple-decade spanning impact of the show hereafter.

But for all of its pivotal status, it’s seldom discussed or remembered anywhere near as much as it should be.

This may be in part because of how little video or photographic record has remained in easily accessible form to date, and also because it only played for around two weeks in the first place. As such, it is a real treat on these occasions to get to see such incredible and unique material that would otherwise have been lost forever after such a brief existence some 30 years ago.

This earlier revival of the show still feels like what we have come to identify “Chicago” as in modern comprehension of the musical, most principally because the choreography was also done by Ann Reinking. As with the 1996 production, this meant dance was done “very much in the master’s style” – or Mr Bob Fosse.

The link below is time-stamped to Bebe and Juliet performing ‘Hot Honey Rag’. As one of the most infamous numbers in Broadway history, it’s undoubtedly a dance that has been watched many times over. But never before have I seen it done quite like this.

https://youtu.be/4HKkwtRE-II?t=2647

‘Hot Honey Rag’ was in fact formerly called ‘Keep It Hot’, and was devised by Fosse as “a compendium of all the steps he learned as a young man working in vaudeville and burlesque—the Shim Sham, the Black Bottom, the Joe Frisco, ‘snake hips,’ and cooch dancing”, making it into the “ultimate vaudeville dance act” for the ultimate finale number.

Ann would say about her choreographical style in relation to Fosse, “The parts where I really deviate is in adding this fugue quality to the numbers. For better or worse, my style is more complicated.” The ‘complexity’ and distinctness she speaks of is certainly evident in some of the sections of this particular dance. There are seemingly about double the periodicity of taps in Bebe and Juliet’s Susie Q sequence alone. One simply has to watch in marvel not just at the impressive synchronicity and in-tandem forward motion, but now also at the impossibly fast feet. Other portions that notably differ from more familiar versions of the dance and thus catch the eye are the big-to-small motion contrast after the rising ‘snake hips’ section, and all of the successive goofy but impeccably precise snapshot sequence of arm movements and poses.

More focus is required on the differences and similarities of this 1992 production compared against the original or subsequent revival, given its status and importance as a bridging link between the two.

The costumes in 1975 were designed by Patricia Zipprodt (as referenced in my previous post on costume design), notably earning her a Tony Award nomination. In this 1992 production, some costumes were “duplications” of Zipprodt’s originals, and some new designs by Garland Riddle – who added a “saucy/sassy array” in the “typical Fosse dance lingerie” style. It is here we begin to see some of the more dark, slinkiness that has become so synonymous with “Chicago” as a concept in public perception.

The sets from the original were designed by Tony Walton – again, nominated for a Tony – and were reused with completeness here. This is important as it shows some of the original dance concepts in their original contexts, given that portions of the initial choreography were “inextricably linked to the original set designs.” This sentiment is evident in the final portion of ‘Cell Block Tango’, pictured and linked at the following time-stamp below, which employs the use of mobile frame-like, ladder structures as a scaffold for surrounding movements, and also a metaphor for the presence of jail cell bars.

https://youtu.be/4HKkwtRE-II?t=741

Defining exactly how much of the initial choreography was carried across is an ephemeral line. Numbers were deemed “virtually intact” in the main review published during the show’s run from the LA Times – or even further, “clones” of the originals. It is thought that the majority of numbers here exhibit greater similarity to the 1975 production than the 1996 revival, except for ‘Hot Honey Rag’ which is regarded as reasonably re-choreographed. But even so, comparing against remaining visible footage of Gwen Verdon and Chita Rivera from the original, or indeed alternatively against Bebe and Annie later in the revival, does not present an exact match to either.

This speaks to the adaptability and amorphousness of Fosse-dance within its broader lexicon. Fosse steps are part of a language that can be spoken with subtle variations in dialect. Even the same steps can appear slightly different when being used in differing contexts, by differing performers, in differing time periods.

It also speaks to some of the main conventions of musical theatre itself. Two main principles of the genre include its capacity for fluidity and its ability for the ‘same material’ to change and evolve over time; as well as the fact comparisons and comprehensions of shows across more permanent time spans are restricted by the availability of digital recordings of matter that is primarily intended to be singular and live.

Which versions of the same song do you want to look at when seeking comparisons?

Are you considering ‘Hot Honey Rag’ at a performance on the large stage at Radio City Music Hall at the Tony Awards in 1997? Or on a small stage for TV shows, like the Howard Cosell or Mike Douglas shows in 1975? Or on press reel footage from 1996 on the ‘normal’ stage context in a format that should be as close to a replica as possible of what was performed in person every night?

Bebe often remarks on and marvels at Ann’s capacity to travel across a stage. “If you want to know how to travel, follow Annie,” she says. This exhibits how one feature of a performance can be so salient and notable on its own, and yet so precariously dependent on the external features its constrained to – like scale.

Thus context can have a significant impact on how numbers are ultimately performed for these taped recordings and their subsequent impact on memory. Choreography must adjust accordingly – while still remaining within the same framework of the intention for the primary live performances.

This links to Ann’s own choreographical aptitude, in the amount of times it is referenced how she subtly adapted each new version of Chicago to tailor to individual performers’ specific merits and strengths as dancers.

Ann’s impact in shaping the indefinable definability of how Chicago is viewed, loved and remembered now is not to be understated.

An extensive 1998 profile – entitled “Chicago: Ann Reinking’s musical” – explores in part some of Ann’s approaches to creating and interacting with the material across a long time span more comprehensively. Speaking specifically to how she choreographed this 1992 production in isolation, Ann would say, “I knew that Bob’s point of view had to permeate the show, you couldn’t do it without honoring his style.” In an age without digital history at one’s fingertips, “I couldn’t remember the whole show. So I choreographed off the cuff and did my own thing. So you could say it was my take on his thoughts.” Using the same Fosse vocabulary, then – “it’s different. But it’s not different.”

One further facet that was directly carried across from the initial production were original cast members, like Barney Martin as returning as Amos, and Michael O'Haughey reprising his performance as Mary Sunshine. Kaye Ballard as Mama Morton and Gary Sandy as Billy Flynn joined Bebe and Juliet to make up the six principals in this new iteration of the show.

Bebe, Gary and Juliet can be seen below in a staged photo for the production at the theatre.

The venue responsible for staging this Civic Light Opera production was the Terrace Theatre in Long Beach in Los Angeles. Now defunct, this theatre and group in its 47 years of operation was credited as providing some of “the area’s most high profile classics”. Indeed, in roughly its final 10 years alone, it staged shows such as Hello Dolly!, Carousel, Wonderful Town (with Donna McKechnie), Gypsy, Sunday in the Park with George, La Cage aux Folles, Follies, 1776, Funny Girl, Bye Bye Birdie, Pal Joey, and Company. The production of Pal Joey saw a return appearance from Elaine Stritch, reprising her earlier performance as Melba Snyder with the memorable song ‘Zip’. This she had done notably some 40 years earlier in the original 1952 Broadway revival, while infamously and simultaneously signed as Ethel Merman’s understudy in Call Me Madam as she documented in Elaine Stritch at Liberty.

Juliet Prowse appeared as Phyllis in Follies in 1990, and Ann Reinking acted alongside Tommy Tune in Bye Bye Birdie in 1991, in successive preceding seasons before this Chicago was staged.

But for all of its commendable history, the theatre went out of business in 1996 just 4 years after this, citing bankruptcy. Competition provided in the local area by Andrew Lloyd Webber and his influx of staging’s of his British musicals was referenced as a contributing factor to the theatre group’s demise. This feat I suspect Bebe would have lamented or expressed remorse for, given some of her comments in previous years on Sir Lloyd Webber and the infiltration of shows from across the pond: “I had lost faith in Broadway because of what I call the scourge of the British musicals. They've dehumanized the stage [and] distanced the audience from the performers. I think 'Cats' is like Patient Zero of this dehumanization.”

That I recently learned that Cats itself can be rationalised in part as simply A Chorus Line with ears and tails I fear would not improve this assessment. In the late ‘70s when Mr Webber noticed an increase of dance ability across the general standard of British theatre performers, after elevated training and competition in response to A Chorus Line transferring to the West End, he wanted to find a way he could use this to an advantage in a format that was reliable to work. Thus another similarly individual, sequential and concept-not-plot driven dance musical was born. Albeit with slightly more drastic lycra leotards and makeup.

But back in America, the Terrace theatre could not be saved by even the higher incidence of stars and bigger Broadway names it was seeing in its final years, with these aforementioned examples such as Bebe, Annie, Tommy, Juliet, Donna, or Elaine. The possibility of these appearances in the first place were in part attributable to the man newly in charge as the company’s producer and artistic director – Barry Brown, Tony award-winning Broadway producer. 

Barry is linked to Bebe’s own involvement with this production of Chicago, through his relationship – in her words – as “a friend of mine”.

At the time, Bebe was in LA filming Cheers, when she called Barry from her dressing room. Having been working in TV for a number of years, she would cite her keenness to find a return to the theatre, “[wanting] to be on a stage so badly” again. The theatre is the place she has long felt the most sense of ease in and belonging for, frequently referring to herself jokingly as a “theatre-rat” or remarking that it is by far the stage that is the “medium in which I am most comfortable, most at home, and I think I'm the best at.”

Wanting to be back in that world so intensely, she initially proposed the notion of just coming along to the production to learn the parts and be an understudy. Her desire to simply learn the choreography alone was so strong she would say, “You don’t have to pay me or anything!”

She’d had the impetus to make the call to Barry in the first place only after visiting Chita Rivera at her show in LA with a friend, David Gibson. At the time, the two did not know each other that well. Bebe had by this point not even had the direct interaction of taking over in succession for Chita in Kiss of the Spider Woman in London. This she would do the following year, with Chita guiding her generously through the intricacies of the Shaftesbury Theatre and the small, but invaluable, details known only to Chita that would be essential help in meeting stage cues and playing Aurora.

Bebe had already, however, stepped into Chita’s shoes multiple times, as Anita in West Side Story as part of a European tour in the late ‘70s, or again in a Cleveland Opera Production in 1988; and additionally as Nickie in the 1986 Broadway revival of Sweet Charity – both of which were roles Chita had originated on stage or screen. In total, Velma would bring the tally of roles that Bebe and Chita have shared through the years to four, amongst many years also of shared performance memories and friendship.

They may not have had a long history of personal rather than situational connections yet when Bebe visited her backstage at the end of 1991, but Chita still managed to play a notable part in the start of the first of Bebe’s many engagements with Chicago.

After Bebe hesitantly relayed her idea, Chita told her, “You should call! Just call!”

So call Bebe did. One should listen to Chita Rivera, after all.

Barry Brown rang her back 10 minutes later after suggesting the idea to Ann Reinking, who was otherwise intended to be playing Velma. The response was affirmative. “Oh let her play the part!”, Annie had exclaimed. And so begun Bebe’s, rather long and very important, journey with Chicago.

In 1992, this first step along the road to the ‘new Chicago’ was well received.

Ann Reinking with her choreography was making her first return to the Fosse universe since her turn in the 1986 Sweet Charity revival. Diametrically, Rob Marshall was staring his first association with Fosse material in providing the show’s direction – many years before he would go on to direct the subsequent film adaptation also. Together, they created a “lively, snappy, smarmy” show that garnered more attention than had been seen since the original closed.

“Bob Fosse would love [this production],” it was commended at the time, “Especially the song-and-dance performance of Bebe Neuwirth who knocks everyone’s socks off.” High praise.

Bebe was also singled out for her “unending energy”, but Juliet too received praise in being “sultry and funny”. Together, the pair were called “separate but equal knockouts” and an “excellent combination”.

Juliet was 56 at the time, and sadly died just four years later. Just one year after the production though, Juliet was recorded as saying, “In fact, we’re thinking of doing it next year and taking it out on the road.”

Evidently that plan never materialised. But it is interesting to note the varied and many comments that were made as to the possibility of the show having a further life.

Bebe at the time had no recollection that the show might be taken further, saying “I didn’t know anything about that.” Ann Reinking years later would remark “no one seemed to think that the time was necessarily ripe for a full-blown Broadway revival.” While the aforementioned LA Times review stated in 1992 there were “unfortunately, no current plans” for movement, it also expressed desire and a call to action for such an event. “Someone out there with taste, money and shrewdness should grab it.”

The expression that a show SHOULD move to Broadway is by no means an indication that a show WILL move. But this review clearly was of enough significance for it to be remembered and referenced by name by someone who was there when it came out at the time, Caitlin Carter, nearly 30 years later. Caitlin was one of the six Merry Murderesses, principally playing Mona (or Lipschitz), at each of this run, Encores!, and on Broadway. She recalled, “Within two days, we got this rave review from the LA Times, saying ‘You need to take the show to Broadway now!’” The press and surrounding discussions clearly created an environment in which “there was a lot of good buzz”, enough for her to reason, “I feel like it planted seeds… People started to think ‘Oh we need to revive this show!’”

The seeds might have taken a few years to germinate, but they did indeed produce some very successful and beautiful flowers when they ultimately did.

In contrast with one of the main talking points of the ‘new Chicago’ being its long performance span, one of the first things I mentioned about this 1992 iteration was the rather short length of its run. It is stated that previews started on April 30th, for an opening on May 2nd, with the show disappearing in its final performance on May 17th. Less than a fleeting 3 weeks in total.

Caitlin Carter discussed the 1992 opening on Stars in the House recently. It’s a topic of note given that their opening night was pushed back from the intended date by two days, meaning Ann Reinking and Rob Marshall had already left and never even saw the production. “The night we were supposed to open in Long Beach was the Rodney King riots.”

Local newspapers at the time when covering the show referenced this large and significant event, by noting the additional two performances added in compensation “because of recent interruptions in area social life.”

It sounds rather quaint put like that. In comparison, the horror and violence of what was actually going on can be statistically summated as ultimately leaving 63 people dead, over 2300 injured, and more than 12,000 having been arrested, in light of the aftermath of the treatment faced by Rodney King. Or more explicitly, the use of excessive violence against a black man at police hands with videotaped footage.

A slightly later published review wrote of how this staging was thus “timely” – in reference to an observed state of “the nation’s moral collapse”.

‘Timeliness’ is a matter often referenced when discussing why the 1996 revival too was of such success. The connection is frequently made as to how this time, the revival resonated with public sentiment so strongly – far more than in 1975 when the original appeared – in part because of the “exploding headlines surrounding the OJ Simpson murder case”. The resulting legal and public furore around this trial directly correlates with the backbone and heart of the musical itself.

I'm writing this piece now at the time of the ongoing trial to determine the verdict of George Floyd’s murder, another black man suffering excessive and ultimately fatal violence at police hands with videotaped footage.

I think the point is that this is never untimely. And that the nation is seldom not in some form of ‘moral collapse’, or facing events that have ramifications to do with the legal system and are emotionally incendiary on a highly public level.

Which perhaps is why Chicago worked so well not just in 1996, but also right up to the present day.

Undoubtedly, we live in a climate where the impact of events is determined not just by the events themselves, but also the manner in which they are reported in the media. Events involving some turmoil and public outrage at the state and outcome of the legal system are not getting any fewer or further between. But the emphasis on the media in an increasingly and unceasingly digital age is certainty only growing.

[finalgirlkateausten]

Trick Plays

The Ted Lasso discord got ahold of this gif and decided the team needed to do it. This is for you guys. Writing crack for this fandom is the best.

Summary: Just... just look at the gif. That's the summary.

Isaac has played for Richmond for a few seasons, and until Ted Lasso, it's seemed like a stagnant, inertia-bound club. Several seasons in a row of going nowhere fast.

And then Ted comes around, and they get relegated by a brutal loss, and yet somehow, the team feels tighter, more alive than it has in years.

The biggest change, the one that makes him proud to be the captain of this team, is the energy. The locker room had once been musty and sullen, all of them changing and heading out to the pitch with barely a word to each other. But now?

It's raucous and lively, music blaring from somewhere and balls and kits flying through the air. Today most of the team is crowding around Dani, who's laughing and grinning (as usual) as he shows them something on his phone.

"What're you lookin' at?" Isaac asks, tugging his shirt over his head and joining the group.

"This is my sister's team," Dani explains, tilting the phone. "Many of them come from gymnastics backgrounds. They have been rehearsing this celebration for weeks, and they finally won a game they could use it in."

Isaac watches the screen, where two girls with long ponytails are helping a third into a handstand, and as their teammates surround them, applauding, a fourth player takes a running start and does a flip through the spread legs of the handstander.

He chuckles. "We could do that."

The group breaks into laughter... and then they pause and look around, considering.

"New flexibility and balance drill today," Isaac crows. "I'll start in the middle. Rojas, you can jump!"

---

Rebecca has an incredible amount of business to attend to. Very important business. Business that does not include joining Keeley at the window overlooking the pitch every time she says, "Rebecca, look at the crazy shit they're doing down there."

"I hired an American football coach," she reminds her, scribbling her signature for the umpteenth time that day. "Crazy is right up his alley."

"I'm not even sure Ted's on the pitch yet," Keeley argues. "Seriously, look-- oh my god, Isaac is doing a headstand."

There's really no type of business that could keep her from looking up at that.

"What..." she moves slowly over to the window, catching sight of her team captain being held upside down by Zoreaux and Montlaur. "...oh, what the fuck is that."

"I have no idea," Keeley says, "but I am so putting it on our Instagram."

As they watch, Dani takes a running leap, dives into a front tuck... and makes it too low, his boot catching Isaac in what must be a very uncomfortable place to take a hit.

"Yeah," Keeley says again, "I'm going to film this."

Rebecca blinks at the dogpile on the pitch (and she must be spending too much time with Ted, because she realizes the accidental pun with the team's mascot and laughs to herself) and slowly shakes her head.

"You do that. I'm staying up here."

---

Ted finishes his weekly planning with Beard and Nate and enters the pitch to find his players contorted like acrobats in the penalty box.

"Quit putting Isaac in the middle, you idiots," Roy is yelling. "Richard's dropped him three times. Colin, you get on your head, and I'll hold you up."

Richard steps away with his hands raised in defeat, and Ted notices Keeley on the pitch, holding up her phone. "Alright, this one's for the reels!"

"Ooh, are we going fishing?" Ted actually has been meaning to look up what sort of fish he can catch in British waters-- this country is an island, after all.

"What?" She gives him a weird look. "No, Ted, Instagram reels-- it's how they copied TikTok."

"I do not know what those words mean, and somehow I don't think it's because they're British," he says with a shrug. "Hey, boys, what's goin' on?"

They're too caught up in whatever this is to hear him, so he ends up just watching as Dani takes a flying leap, straight through Colin's legs, and tucks into a front roll as he hits the ground. The rest of the team erupts in cheers.

"We're practicing a new celebration move, Coach," Sam explains, finally noticing him. "Dani's sister and her gymnast teammates invented it."

"Well, I'm no gymnast," Ted admits, "but I sure would love to be a part of this!"

"Alright, bring him in," Roy calls. "I don't want to stand here and hold Colin's leg anymore than I have to."

They do it again, and again, it's a successful move. The team is as loud as if they'd actually scored in a match.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Keeley crows. "This is so going to go viral!"

---

If Rebecca had been flabbergasted by the odd circus act going on during training, it's nothing to how she feels when they repeat it during a game. Although, to be fair, the shock of scoring a point in the twenty-third minute is a factor, too.

"My cousins and I pulled a trick like that one year," Higgins says, from her right. "Only, I dropped Katherine halfway through, and she broke her collarbone."

Rebecca looks at the cheering hoarde of young men in red and blue, thinking about the thin line they walk between milking penalties for drama and actually injuring themselves worryingly often. "Don't even joke about that."

But they win their game, which shouldn't be surprising after their hard work over the summer, and yet somehow, it is.

She can see how that's worth a ridiculous celebration.

[abluescarfonwaston]

Did someone ask for a quick and angsty immortal jaskier prompt? "It was supposed to be the music," he whispered, voice breaking. Heart breaking. "The songs. I wanted my songs to be remembered forever. I never wanted this."

Why would you do this to me anon. i’m already crying over the fact dandelion outlives everyone he loves. Major Character Death Warning. Obviously. Literally everyone dies. Uuuh also this kinda turns into Lambert/Jaskier at the end but like. They’re both Centuries old so nothing Happens.

When the wasting sickness swept through Lettenhove it killed his Mother and his Father and his Sisters and left him untouched. 

He was ten and the world was over. Except he kept waking up in the morning.

At thirteen a girl at Oxenfurt, Essi Daven, played her Lute in the commons and sang and had the most beautiful cornflower blue eyes. And for the first time in years he sang a duet with her and suddenly he was a bard and he had a little sister again. 

Maybe the world hadn’t ended. Maybe it finally restart.

At seventeen he met a man with white hair and seemly as many scars on his body as his heart and fell in love. Because Bards fell in love easily and he was impossibly easy to love.

The witcher plead for his life. Plead for them to let the bard go.

“No. Both of us or neither.” He was done outliving those he loved. At seventeen he was already done with that. “You kill him and let me go and i’ll destroy your mountain. Kill every last one of you in revenge.”

He’d leave behind a song. The one he’d written as a child and had swept the town more devastating than even the scarlet fever had been. It would live on past him. He would be remembered. The people he loved would be too. Toss a coin to your Witcher. The people he loved immortalized in song.

It wasn’t supposed to make him immortal.

“Give it a rest Jaskier.” Danity snapped. “It’s not you that has to be afraid of anything. No one ever touches a troubadour. For unfathomable reasons you’re inviolable.”

He’d still feared then. Chappelle could have had him killed. He was pretty sure he could die. Mostly he feared the pain. Or dying alone.

“When an old woman gets tired of life she walks into the woods without a weapon. The results are guaranteed.” He’d told Geralt when he’d moaned about how the world was changing and -more importantly- that he had no work.

Remember how I don’t even carry a knife when I follow you out on an adventure? No weapons at all. Ever. Just me and my lute.

He’d brushed death. A thousand times he’d almost met her. He followed Geralt- who was prophesied to always have death follow after him. You’d think at some point they’d meet.

Essi and Geralt fell in love on the coast. He wrote a ballad for them. About how their love was so powerful not even death could come between them.

He never played it. Not to anyone. He didn’t think it was actually about Essi and Geralt.

When rash appeared on Essi’s face in Vizima during the quarantine his hands shook.

“Not her.” He’d screamed at the gods. They didn’t exist of course. If they had then they’d abandoned them all long ago. “Not her.”

“Jaskier?” She shivered violently. “I don’t want to be burned.”

“You won’t be. You’re going to be fine.” He promised. Clutching her hand. “Promise Poppet. You’re going to be fine.”

The cremation fires blazed outside.

“I want to be buried in the woods. With my lute and-” She hurled mostly into the bucket. “My necklace. Please Jaskier.”

“Course Poppet. When you’re old and grey I will bury you out in the forest.”

“Thank you.” She clutched the little pearl. “For giving me him. I love him.”

“I never saw him happier than when he was with you Poppet.”

“What about when he was with you?”

“Oh come now.” He shifted her in his arms and moved the bucket a little further away. “You know me. I’m insufferable.”

“I love you Jaskier.” She cried as she shivered with less and less energy.

“I love you too Poppet.”

He carried her from the city. Into the forest. Her heart stopped beating before they arrived. He dug her grave and buried her with her lute and her pearl necklace.

With the pearl he’d given to her as a birthday gift. From him and Geralt.

When Regis passed it felt absurd. Humans weren’t supposed to outlive goddamn vampires in their fifth fucking century.

And then there was Geralt. Died in Yennefer’s arms along with her.

“It was supposed to be me.” He told no one as Ciri led their bodies out to the lake. “I was supposed to die with him.” Love so great not even death can part us.

But the story was never really about him was it?

Nenneke had a garden full of plants that grew under a crystal skylight. They didn’t grow anywhere else in the world anymore.

He’d asked Geralt about it. She’d said something about the sun and how it was changing. Apparently Geralt had asked why they all didn’t live under crystal skylights then, if it was so deadly.

“It’s already too late for us.” She’d said.

She talked liked the world was ending but the world ended all the time. And he still woke up in the morning.

Zoltan’s beard turned grey. He supposed he should have been thankful that Zoltan got to turn grey. It was better than most of the people he’d loved.

“How’s your fucking hair still Gold. You’re supposed to be getting old too!”

“I dye it.” He lied with a roll of the eyes. He’d stopped dying it years ago.

That winter he buried Zoltan too.

Golden eyes stared at him in confusion. “You look just like.” He started. His thin hair was grey. His wolf medallion gleamed in the sunlight that streaked into the bar.

“You’re one of the last Witchers i think.” He told him as the waves crashed outside. “Might even be the last.”

“Fucking hope so.” He sat down across from him and stole his beer. “Shitty job and a shitty life.” He squinted at him- which Jaskier knew was entirely unnecessary. He just forgotten to adjust his eyes. “What’s your name bard?”

“Dandelion.” He answered. It had been for the last century. “Yours?”

“Lambert.” He downed the drink. “You really think i’m the last? That worth a song? One of my brothers had a lot of songs.”

“Yes I suppose he did.” He waved for another drink. “And look what it got him.”

“Died surrounded by people who loved him.”

“Are you sure you know what a pogrom is?”

That got him a sharp toothy grin.

“I could write you a song but-” He was tired of burying people he loved.

“But?”

“I’m cursed you see.” It was definitely a curse these days. “I’ll live until the last of my songs is forgotten. I really don’t need anymore material.”

Lambert leaned forward curiously. “Doesn’t sound like a curse.”

“You don’t think it sounds like a curse?” He sneered. Lambert’s face faltered. “To outlive everyone you love?”

Lambert paused. Thinking. “Write me a song then. Play it just for me. So if my song’s the last we’ll go together.”

“And what’s my payment for this song?”

“Company.” Lambert’s grey eyes glittered. “You look like you need it.”

“Not as much as you. I bet you talk to your horse.”

“Well i know you do pretty boy. Heard you in the stable.”

He leaned back on the bench. “So what’s a Witcher do in a world without monsters?”

He shrugged. “Fish mostly.”

“I can do that. Once almost snagged a catfish the size of you. Got a djinn instead. Very bad deal honestly.”

“You expect me to believe that? I know about Bards and Ballads and how you’re all rotten liars.”

“Don’t forget about fisherman and their tales.”

The boat leaked worse than an old drunkard but it was small enough and the lake calm enough that it didn’t make him sick.

“I could just kill you. Curse probably can’t fix decapitation.” Lambert offered with his stick in the water. He claimed were bombs they could use instead if they got desperate. Or bored.

He smiled and shook his head. “Give it a try.”

Lambert raised an eyebrow but pulled a silver blade from it’s sheath.

His pole reeled and the boat tilted to the side, plunging him and the sword into the water.

He laughed as the attempted to drag the monstrous fish to the boat. Lambert cursed and climbed in. Yanking at the rod until the line snapped and they fell back into the boat in a painful pile. Laughing.

He didn’t remember the last time he’d laughed.

“Sing me a song bard.” Lambert would request from under his floppy sun brimmed hat. “No else up here but me.”

“There’s an entire stone keep on the hill.”

“No ones lived there in centuries. No one can hear you up here but me.”

He frowned at the ruins on the hill. Lambert kicked him.

He grinned and for the first time in decades - sang.

Maybe. Maybe the world hadn’t ended. Maybe it had finally restart.

“What was this place called?” He asked as they wandered through the crumbled ruin, covered in moss and ivy.

“Kaer Morhen.” He said like the words hurt him.

They hurt him too. He laughed.

He laughed some more.

He couldn’t stop laughing until Lambert smacked him hard enough to see stars.

“I never got to come here. Geralt.” He caught the flinch but moved past it. “Never trusted me enough to even let me know which country it was in.”

“So you were his bard.”

He nodded as Lambert kicked a stone apart. “He was right not to tell me of course. But.” It still hurt that his best friend hadn’t trusted him with his home. He’d taken Yennefer here. But not him. Never him.

He didn’t deserve Geralt’s trust. A thief, a liar, a spy, a bard. It still hurt.

“Well a wolf finally took you here. Is it everything you fucking dreamed?”

He took it in. “Nah. It’s rubbish.”

Lambert smirked. “Yeah. At least that hasn’t changed.”

“You’re hairs getting grey bard.”

“What?” He nearly leaped into the water in his haste to look.

Grey strands streaked his beard.

“Thank you.” He cried. “Thank you.”

“Still owe me that song Dandy.”

He wrote Lambert a lot of songs. Performed for an audience of one.

“Are you really okay with the fact no one will ever hear them? I mean what’s the point in being immortalized in song if-”

“Yeah. Didn’t give a shit about the songs.”

“Hey!” He protested. Kicking him where he lounged in front of the fire. “They’re good songs!”

He grunted in fake pain. Wiggled out of range. “Did Geralt ever tell you why he liked having you around?”

“My charming personality I assume.”

Lambert snorted.

He sat down on the floor and poke him. “Don’t fall asleep. Tell me why you think he did.”

“No one tells Witchers bedtime stories.”

“Oh.” Lambert was halfway to sleep already. “Would you like one?”

“Yeah.”

“What you think happens after?” They were huddled together. Old and grey as a storm raged outside. “We die.”

“I gave up on gods when i was a child.”

“So did i.”

“Then.” He paused. Listened to the howl. “Whatever’s next at least neither of us is going alone.”

Lambert squeezed his bony hand. “What’s the chance we see them again?”

“Hm.” He pretended to consider. “Well we’re definitely going to hell so-”

“Like anyone we gave a shit about wouldn’t be.”

“Point.”

He closed his golden eyes. “Hey Dandy.”

“Yeah?”

“Sing me out.”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

And quite singing filled the drafty cabin until the song stopped.

The world ended.

And at long last no one woke up in the morning.

[artificialqueens]

times being what they are (crystal x gigi) - Cupid

orpheus and eurydice lesbian au!

a/n hi so this has so many greek mythology references and i tried to explain each god as much as i could but i didn’t want to turn it into a factfile and draw the story away from the queens, but i hope you still get it. but basically this is the story of orpheus & eurydice but it is crystal & gigi. there are also a lot of song references to the hadestown musical but it’s okay if you don’t know them too cause all they add to the story is poetics lmao.

…

Crystal had practically been raised by the gods. Her mother was a muse, and muses were infamous for abandoning those close to them; leaving with no return. The innocent brunette was left to fend for herself in life, living in the many stretched out meadows across Thrace. Although she often felt lonesome, there was nowhere she wanted to be more than Greece. Living there was like a paradise, only she wished she had someone to live in it with.

As she grew up, the gods gave her strength. The great God Apollo gifted her with a lyre on her sixteenth birthday. Confused as to what it was, the God assisted her by showing her how to pluck each string to create a pleasing melody. Crystal became quickly enticed. The instrument never left her grasp from then on.

After being gifted the lyre, she discovered her ability to charm the animals and make the trees dance around like a gentle wind was being swept through them. However, there was no real ‘gentle wind.’ It was either blazing hot or freezing cold, with no in-between. It had been years since Crystal recalled seeing a spring or fall. What she wanted most in the world was to strum a song so beautiful and powerful, spring would come again. Unfortunately, that dream came with a slight naiveness to the ways of the world. Many would say she wore her heart upon her sleeve.

When she was eighteen, she met Hermes, the great messenger of the Olympian Gods. He liked Crystal’s way of seeing things, so he took her under his wing. The God had heard her melody and recognized it. It was an old song of love from long ago. It told the story of the love between the great Gods Hades and Persephone. It was their relationship that messed up the seasons, and instantly Hermes knew that only Crystal had the capacity to bring the seasons back to normal. She had a way with words, and she sang like a bird upon a line.

Crystal was yet to finish the song, but when it was done, it would bring the seasons back into full bloom, bringing peace to the world and returning it to its rightful state.

She and Hermes stumbled into a bar one night, not long after Crystal’s twenty-first birthday. She was anxious, as she still had not finished her tune.

“It’s okay, Crystal. You have all the time in the world,” Hermes comforted, leaning against the bar counter in a cool manner.

“I just want to help the people,” she replied softly.

“I know you do.”

…

Gigi was a hungry young girl - a runaway from everywhere she’d ever been. She was no stranger to the world, but she never stayed anywhere long enough for anyone to catch her name. Nobody owned her, nobody knew her, and if someone would ever so much as think they recognized her, it was her time to flee. It wasn’t that she was running from an enemy, but she was running from intimacy, as well as the fatal changes in weather that always seemed to take a turn on her.

She felt helpless most of the time. The poor blonde yearned to see a flower bloom, for she heard that is what happened during spring. But instead, all she saw was hunger and hardship, no matter where she went. The only friends she ever had either died of starvation or turned on her just like the wind. She had concluded that, in the end, she was better off alone.

Something curious about the girl was that all her life, she had been followed by a chorus of three women - the Fates. They watched over her as if they were waiting for something to happen. Wherever it was the young girl went, the three women followed close behind.

Gigi struggled to find a purpose. She would sit in bars alone, dreaming of a belly full of food and a bed she could fall into where the weather wouldn’t follow her.

It was yet another blistering night when she found herself reeling in the bitter taste of alcohol to feel something. The bar was dark, and there was no music - just a low hum of chatter between groups of friends. She didn’t bother to look at the people surrounding her in case she accidentally made eye contact.

…

Crystal was only on her second drink when she spotted a young woman across the bar, sitting by a round table and drinking alone. She had dark blonde hair with streaks of gold throughout. Her hair was long and wavy, but it had been tucked under the collar of her large, heavy-looking trench coat. Her neck was covered by a red paisley scarf - much like the one Crystal had around her own neck. She seemed to sink her solemn-looking face into it, and Crystal was overwhelmed with her beauty. The woman was a nymph, which seemed to explain her elegant looks and relaxing presence.

“You aren’t the most discreet,” Hermes smirked, nudging the girl and causing her drink to splash around.

“I can’t help it,” Crystal sighed, “Look at her. Isn’t she ethereal?”

The God smiled and cast a quick glance in the girl’s direction. Crystal had a point. “You wanna talk to her?”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

Hermes watched as Crystal pushed her seat back, adjusting the buttons on her cream-colored shirt. “Crystal,” he stopped her briefly before she went ahead.

“Yes?”

“Don’t come on too strong.”

The brunette nodded, tugging on one of her tight curls subconsciously as she approached the pretty woman. Right before she sat down, the woman raised her head to shoot a glance at her. She looked amused in an ‘I feel so bad for you right now’ kind of look. Crystal brushed it off.

“Come home with me,” the brunette rushed out, and the woman squinted her eyes instantly, though she seemed unphased.

“Who are you?” she snorted.

“The girl who’s going to marry you,” she swallowed, “I’m Crystal.”

The woman then shot a glance to Hermes who was watching the conversation with a hand cupped over his mouth, trying to hold back pathetic laughter.

“Is she always like this?” the woman inquired.

“Yes,” he responded with a grin.

She rolled her eyes, turning back to Crystal and giving her a pale, slender hand, waiting for her to shake it, “I’m Gigi.”

“Your name is like a melody.”

“A singer?” Is that what you are?”

Crystal felt a blush creep across her face, “I also play the lyre.”

“Oh, a liar and a player too,” Gigi deadpanned, her expression making it hard to differentiate whether or not she was being serious or not, “I’ve met too many people like you…”

“Oh no! I’m not like that…”

Hermes cut in, “She’s not like anyone you’ve met,” both girls turned to look at him, taken aback, “Tell her what you’re working on.”

Crystal nodded quickly, trying to gain all the confidence back from before. Perhaps she had lost her mojo. Perhaps her charm wasn’t as great as Hermes had hyped it up to be.

“I’m working on a song,” she stammered, “It isn’t finished yet, but when it’s done, and when I sing it, spring will come again!”

Gigi was in disbelief. Spring was all she wanted. All these years she had tried to find a way to bring the weather back to how it was before, so there was no way this scrawny little girl’s vocal cords could possibly do the trick. Albeit, the girl was extremely pretty. So much so that she stuck out among others. Out of place yet so, so right. “Come again?” - was all she could think to say.

“Spring will come.”

“When? I haven’t seen or fall since,” she scoffed, “Well, I can’t even remember.”

“That’s what I’m working on,” Crystal asserted, the passion in her voice making it difficult for Gigi not to beam with hope and joy, “A song to fix what’s wrong - to fix what’s broken and make it whole. A song so beautiful, it brings the world back into tune… back into time… and all the flowers will bloom,” she placed a tanned hand over Gigi’s, “When you become my wife.”

Gigi glanced at Hermes once more, her eyes widening, “Oh she’s crazy. Why would I become her wife?”

Hermes folded his arms and shrugged, “Maybe because she’ll make you feel alive.”

Now it was the blonde’s turn to feel her face heat up. Although she had been living for twenty-one years, surviving through many obstacles, she had never truly felt alive. She looked at Crystal - really looked at her - and saw the slight quiver of her lips, as if she were going to burst into tears if Gigi didn’t accept her offer. She was so insanely gorgeous, she made Gigi want to throw away the ability to say no, but that didn’t stop the blonde from teasing her a bit.

“Alive…” Gigi raised a brow, “That’s worth a lot. Do you have your lyre? I want you to play me this song, if it means ‘spring will come again.’”

“It isn’t finished yet.”

“Sing it. You wanna take me home?”

“Yes.”

“Then sing the song.”

Hermes floated over, gently passing the lyre that seemed to appear out of nowhere to Crystal. He then led the two women outside, to where the lakes ahead were frozen over for miles. Furthermore; Crystal began to strum.

The song started off tame, with the mere plucking of three of the golden strings, but then Gigi began to feel a feeling of warmth when Crystal began to sing. There were no real words - just a melody of la la las - but soon enough, somehow, the fates began to join in. They all harmonized together in an almost hypnotic chorus, and Gigi felt faint when she saw the glowing sun appear from behind the clouds, the green grass appear from under the snow, and the trees begin to sway with the rhythm of the tune.

It was over too fast, and Gigi’s feeling of Euphoria was short-lived, but still, she felt blown away.

“How’d you do that?”

“I don’t know. The song’s not finished, though.”

“Even so, it can do this,” she breathed, experiencing a feeling of floating as she pointed at the small snowdrop buds appearing through the damp grass. “You have to finish it.”

“Well,” Hermes grinned, “I’ll leave you to it,” and with that he glided away, leaving the songbird and lone wolf alone, in the middle of nowhere, outside a run-down bar.

Gigi bit her lip and reached forward, connecting her leather fingerless gloved hand to the shorter girl’s. Crystal looked up at her with desperation and promise in her eyes, intertwining their fingers and holding her close.

The brunette scrunched up her nose, presenting one of the cutest faces Gigi had ever witnessed, before speaking, “So…” her gaze moved to Gigi’s full lips, which the blonde had just dampened with her tongue, “Can I take you home now?”

“Shut up,” Gigi rushed out, grabbing Crystal by the tatty collars of her white button-up, pulling her closed and pressing their lips together. They both knew what was going to happen moments before it did. And to Crystal, those few moments of tension and anticipation were an eternity.

Gigi never wanted the beauty of the kiss to end, so she closed her eyes and let her vision fall into darkness. It wasn’t the terrifying kind that she experienced day-by-day - it was comforting. Their lips moved together gently, a tentative dance to them. Gigi’s hands became tangled in Crystal’s mullet as she immersed herself deeper into the kiss. Crystal’s hands ducked under the blonde’s jacket, feeling the soft cotton of her vest below. Her hands moved upward, towards her breast, and smirked against her lips at the lack of bra. Their tongues began to dance together slowly, like a waltz, and Crystal melted into it.

Unfortunately for them both, it simply couldn’t last forever. They pulled away after five minutes of electronic touching, and Crystal was lost for breath.

“Will you come home with me?” she asked for the last time that night.

“Of course,” Gigi simpered.

“And will you marry me?”

“Depends how good you make me feel tonight.”

And oh boy, she made her feel infinite.

…

After weeks of planning and falling in love with one another, the day of their wedding finally came. The day was bright and clear, and both girls dressed up in white lace gowns that their local seamstress had begun working on the day their marriage was announced.

Crystal was rubbing red berries on her lips to tint them when Gigi walked in, hands clasped behind her back as if she were holding something. The brunette looked at her wife-to-be through the mirror with curiosity.

“What is that?” she asked, excitement bubbling up inside her. The wedding nerves left her feeling like she was tipsy from alcohol, despite not having drunk anything yet.

“Persephone gifted it to me to give to you…” Gigi smiled, tugging on her lower lip. She showed Crystal what was in her hands, and the brunette gasped instantly.

It was a delicately woven flower crown with many different colors and meanings. Crystal had never seen such beauty, and now it was hers. She didn’t want to touch it in case she broke it, but Gigi still approached her from behind and carefully placed it over her head. The brunette admired the variety of flowers in the crown; white camellias, red chrysanthemums, pink gloxinias, calla lilies, red poppies, and orchids.

“It’s so beautiful,” she sighed, inhaling the many scents of the beautiful flowers.

“It suits you,” Gigi grinned, gently squeezing her shoulders, “My future wife.”

“Tell me what they all mean.”

“Alright.”

Gigi softly twirled a few of Crystal’s curls around her finger as she explained the symbolism behind each flower.

“The white camellias mean ‘you’re adorable,’ which is quite self-explanatory, the red chrysanthemums mean I love you, because I do. You are the only person I have ever loved and I- well I didn’t think I could feel such strong affection for someone but, for once, I have been proven wrong. The gloxinias mean love at first sight, because I believe that’s what I experienced. When you first spoke to me… I had this overwhelming sensation that I had never felt before, and I think that was Aphrodite telling me that this was love. The calla lilies mean beauty, because that’s what you possess, and the red poppies mean pleasure.”

Crystal blushed and bit her lip, trying to contain a laugh, as well as a tear.

“And orchids are the full package. They mean love, beauty, refinement, beautiful lady, and they’re a Chinese symbol for fertility, because someday, I want to start a family with you.”

The brunette leaned her head back - though still wary of the precious crown on her head - and sniffled, “I love you.”

Gigi wrapped her arms around her lover’s neck, pecking a gentle, barely-there kiss on the back of her head, “I know you do baby. Now, let me go put a ring on your finger.”

They walked hand in hand outside, into the grassy meadow filled with townspeople there to celebrate the two lovebirds. A choir of muses sang as they walked down the aisle, petals being thrown at them by the children of their neighbors. The weather was just right that day, the grass was green and damp beneath their bare feet, and the sky was blue - much like Gigi’s blue eyes.

They exchanged vows, as any couple would, and Hymanios, the god of marriage, blessed the day.

“You may kiss the bride,” he said joyfully, and the two girls squealed in excitement as they pulled one another in, whispering ‘I love yous’ as well as other sweet nothings against one another’s lips, inaudible to their audience.

The two of them had been lonesome for so long to the point that they didn’t even know they were lonely, but when they took each other in their arms, suddenly there was sunlight all around them. The world seemed so bright and warm, and it shone like it never did before. And - just for a moment - they forgot how dark and cold it could get.

“Say that you’ll hold me forever, and the wind won’t change on us,” Crystal mumbled against her wife’s lips, “Say it will always be like this.”

A tear made its way down the taller woman’s cheek, as she raised her slender hand to cup the softness of Crystal’s cheekbone, “I’m gonna hold you forever, and the wind will never change on us. As long as we stay with each other, then it will always be like this.”

Not long after, the newlyweds presented their great feast to fill the bellies of the starving townspeople. Ambrosia, the god of food and drink blessed them with it, allowing them to eat and have peace - something which they didn’t get to experience often.

They feasted, they sang, they told stories and filled their surroundings with laughter and gaiety, until the sky grew dark, and the townspeople dispersed. They left Gigi and Crystal alone, sitting together at the large table, starry-eyed. They remained like that for an hour, Crystal braiding her wife’s hair and peppering kisses along her neck until it began to get chilly, and they knew it was time to go.

To reach home, the couple would have to take a route through a small woodland forest at the corner of town. They held hands as they walked, and Gigi was fascinated with each animal she saw pass through the bushes. Crystal had to physically hold her back from rushing over to pet a small frog.

“Come on baby, let’s get ho-” the brunette couldn’t finish her sentence, because suddenly a figure jumped out at her from the bushes, making an attempt to leap at her and tackle her to the ground.

In a swift move, Crystal grabbed Gigi’s hand and they shot off, headlong, through the overgrown forest. They didn’t know whether or not they were being chased, and they were too filled with adrenaline to check.

What they didn’t know was that it was a man that jumped from the bushes, and said man had been waiting there for hours, waiting for Crystal to pass so he could go in for the kill. The man was a shepherd called Aristaeus, and ever since the marriage of Crystal and Gigi was announced, he had been plotting to conquer the latter. Much like other men, he desired the nymph for his own, and had planned to annihilate Crystal if it meant he could reach her.

What they also didn’t know was that he was chasing them, and the chase was lasting a very long time. Thunder clouds roared above them and it was a race against time to see if they would survive or either be killed by Aristaeus or the coming storm.

On and on they ran together, until suddenly, Gigi fell to the ground. Assuming she had merely tripped on a small branch, Crystal reached down to assist her up, but Gigi’s hand slipped from her grasp. The brunette couldn’t quite comprehend what happened, but she did know that the shepherd was thankfully nowhere in sight.

Her heart sank when she noticed the deathly pallor in her wife’s cheek. The blonde had always been pale, but the usual rosy tint on her cheeks and lips had completely disappeared. Crystal stopped short in dismay when she stepped back, scanned their surroundings, and saw a nest of snakes right where they had just stepped. Gigi must’ve stepped in it. That was when Crystal noticed a red mark by her lover’s ankle, as well as a gradual swelling around it.

It turned out that Aristaeus had witnessed the accident occur, and fled straight after. There was no hope in his daydream relationship with Gigi, knowing that nobody survived the bite of a deadly viper.

…

Crystal felt like she had lost her entire world. Gigi was dead. Her wife was gone and they had barely even had the chance to celebrate their new union. Just when she thought things would be peaceful for once. Her life without Gigi seemed endless, and she lost all the passion that made her shine before.

The girl was crying onto her hardwood floor when Hermes appeared, looking disgustingly smug.

“Mr Hermes…” she sniffled, wiping her tears onto her sleeves. She couldn’t let a God see her like this.

“Shouldn’t you be working on your masterpiece?” he inquired, gesturing to the girl’s lyre that now hung on the wall meaninglessly.

“She’s gone… but where is she? I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” she sobbed, trying to refrain from punching a hole in the ground.

“She called your name before she went but I guess you weren’t listening,” he scoffed before his voice turned serious, “And what if I said she’s down below.”

“Down below?”

“Down below, you know… six feet under the ground below.”

“No-”

“-So, just how far would you go for her?”

Crystal’s eyes widened and she wiped her tears, standing up and straightening her back, “To the end of time… to the end of the earth.”

“You got a ticket?”

“A ticket to where?”

Hermes snorted and rested his hands on his hips, “Why, to the underworld of course.”

“No I- I don’t have a ticket,” she stuttered, nervous with the prospect that she could get her wife back.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. Although, there is another way, but I really ain’t supposed to say.”

“Another way?”

“Y’know, around the back - but that ain’t easy walking, mortal. It ain’t for the sensitive of souls. Are you sure you really want to go?”

Crystal felt the tears coming back on, placing a hand over her chest, “With all my heart.”

“With all your heart? Well… that’s a start. To get to the underworld, you have to take a long way down - through the underground, under cover of night. You must lay down low and keep yourself out of sight. There’s no compass, darling, nor is there a map. All there is is a railroad track. You have to keep on walking and definitely do not look back until you get to the bottomland.”

She knew what to do now. She snatched her lyre from the wall and began her journey to the underworld. The route had walls of iron and concrete, and there were hound dogs howling around the gate. If she had brought a bone of bread, they would lay down and leave her be, but all she had was her own two legs - still. she was sure glad she had them.

As she walked, she played her lyre. The air was thick and humid - hard to breathe - yet there was still a chill running through her spine. Her legs were tired, but she showed no sign of stopping. Suddenly, she was hindered by the fates.

“Who are you to think that you can walk a road alone that no one has ever walked before,” one of them hissed, but Crystal quickly silenced them, continuing to play her lyre and play her melody.

After hours upon hours of walking, she began to see people. They were working - almost like they were mining. Hermes had told her that she mustn’t give anyone her name, for, in the underworld, nobody had one. She couldn’t look anybody in the eye, or else she’d be sent back home.

That was when she saw it. She saw two thrones in front of her, one with a majestic looking man sat in it, looking extremely bored. It was Hades, God of the underworld, guarding the gates from people like Crystal. The other sat an ethereal beauty - one of which Crystal had only ever seen in paintings - Miss. Persephone.

“Hello. My name is Crystal and I demand to be given entry. My wife’s life has been undeservingly stolen from me, and she was dragged down here even though she had so much more of her life to live. She died the day of our wedding day,” the brunette knew she mustn’t cry in front of the all-powerful Hades and Persephone so, for once, she managed to hold it in. “Hades, my great God - you for one should know the feeling of loneliness that is felt when your lover is away from you. So, I beg you to listen to me. Allow me to play you my song.”

Persephone looked compassionate, and Hades looked emotionless - until Crystal began playing. She started by humming and gently plucking the three strings until she built it up and playing it loud, bringing beams of light to the cave-like room. The hurt in her voice was so prominent, even the coldest of hearts couldn’t remain untouched.

Suddenly, Hades began to weep. Persephone looked shocked, for her husband had never cried before, but she placed her hand on his back while her own heart melted at the tune. Cerberus, the enormous three-headed hound that guarded the gate to the underworld, covered his ears with his paws and howled in despair.

After long, Crystal came to a stop, and Hades wiped his tears with a small handkerchief, having to compose himself before speaking.

“Your song is very beautiful, I must say. It is nothing I have ever heard before,” he stated, his voice deep and booming, “And so, for that reason, I will give you a proposition. I promise to you that, if you retrace your steps, Gigi will follow. Though, I do warn you: If you look back to ensure she is there while you are still in the light, she will be dragged back to my underworld. Are you willing?”

“Yes,” Crystal gasped, “I’m willing to do anything for my lover… Thank you, Hades. Thank you so much. I will be so grateful to you for the rest of eternity.”

“Run along then, pretty girl,” he sounded, and she immediately complied.

As the young girl disappeared into the distance, Persephone turned to her husband.

“Do you think they’ll make it?” she asked, concern in her voice.

“I don’t know.”

“Hades, you let her go…”

The God sighed, tapping his fingers on the arm of his throne, “I let her try.”

…

Crystal was walking and she just couldn’t hear Gigi, but she knew she was there. If she listened close enough, she would be able to hear Gigi sing along to the song the brunette strummed on her lyre.

“I’m coming, wait for me… We are not alone - I hear the rocks and stones echoing our song…” the blonde cried, desperate for her wife to know she was there, and that if she kept walking without looking behind, they’d be able to spend an eternity together. “Crystal… I’m coming.”

The brunette kept playing her tune, despite the immense shiver that filled her body and the murderous gaze the fates kept on her as she walked. Doubt began to roll in, and she questioned Hades’ honesty. There was no way Gigi was near if she was so cold, because Gigi brought warmth to every place she went. She muttered affirmations to herself, but they were futile. She was filled with so much uncertainty. If the ringing of her words in her mind wasn’t so loud, she would’ve heard her wife’s words of encouragement.

“Crystal, my love. You’re shivering. Is it with cold or fear? Please… keep singing,” her voice was filled with hope, and for once she was the positive one, “Remember; the coldest night comes right before the spring.”

Crystal kept walking, her tanned fingers whitening with the frost as she continued to strum her lyre. She kept mumbling ‘where are you’ over and over, as if she were going mad. Who was she to believe that Hades wouldn’t deceive her just to make her leave alone? Where was Gigi?

The light in the distance suddenly became clear. She was so close, and the hope began to consume her again. Still, there was no sound - no branch snapping beneath her wife’s feet - but once more, she felt her presence.

Gigi began to see the light in front of her too, as her wife walked mere meters away from stepping into it. The blonde walked five meters behind.

“You are not alone,” the blonde whispered, wanting nothing more to run towards Crystal and embrace her, “I’m right behind you and I have been all along.”

Finally, after hours of walking in the darkness and the cold, Crystal stepped into the light and finally, she turned around.

There was a gasp.

“It’s you-” Crystal sniffled, her chest rising and falling at the sight of her beautiful wife. She was covered in coal from mining down below, and she looked frailer than before. Although, she was still so mind-bendingly gorgeous.

Gigi wanted to smile and embrace her wife, but there was one issue.

Because Crystal was a few steps in front, she entered the light before Gigi did, but Hades’ proposition stated that Gigi must be in the light before she could turn.

Gigi was still in the dark. She was yet to see the sun.

So, before Crystal could lunge forward and wrap her arms around the love of her life, she disappeared in front of her eyes, being dragged back to the underworld.

“GIGI-” Crystal shrieked, attempting to run back into the darkness, chasing after her wife. But, as the rules of underworld stated: No person may enter the realm of Hades twice while still alive.

Hermes guarded her entry after being sent by Zeus, informing her of the rule.

“But Mr Hermes… You’ve seen how in love we are… You know us… You- You-” she sobbed, falling to her knees and shaking.

“Rules are rules, mortal.”

…

For the rest of her life, the musician was left disoriented and heart-broken. She turned away the touch of any man and any woman, forever mourning her misfortune. It reached a point where she couldn’t bear to look at another woman without being reminded of the pain of the past.

No longer were her songs joyful - they were sorrowful and melancholy, and they brought misery to whoever heard them. The only comfort she found when she laid herself down on a large rock, reveling in the caress of the breeze.

One day, a group of women who were angered with Crystal’s ignoration for them, attacked her. Crystal had become so empty and motivationless that she put up no fight. They killed her in cold blood, before throwing her and her lyre into a great river. Her head and lyre floated downriver, towards the island of Lesvos, where a group of Muses found her and gave her the official burial she deserved.

It is said that her grave emanates quiet, beautiful music because now, her soul had descended down to the underworld, where she could spend the rest of eternity with Gigi.

[harrybabystyles]

Oh, Angel! (harry styles)

chapter three - m a s t e r l i s t -

warnings: language, and there is a scene with an IV

a/n: If you haven’t read the previous chapters I would suggest doing so, just click on the masterlist above to find them

When I opened my eyes, his face floated into view, those pale green eyes, perfect lips, and irresistible brown curls.��

I fucking knew it, he is an angel and I have actually died. 

Wait...why does he look so concerned?

“Anna!” Paige’s face now floated into view, and then Harper’s, and then Evelyn’s, worry swelling their features.

“What?” I croak, my voice hoarse, and my throat tight. 

I then notice the metal walls of the inside of an ambulance, and the throbbing pain in my arm. I look down to find an IV dug into the skin just above my forearm and my brows knit together.

“Ma’am, you passed out, you were dehydrated so we gave you an IV to help push some fluids through” a voice came through, and a stern faced woman came into my line of sight, scooting down Harry and my friends on the bench beside me.

Wait...Harry?!

My eyes widen at the sight of him sat next to my friends, the floral suit shifting as he adjusted down the bench. 

I take a gulp, suddenly remembering the music fest, and the song.

“What are you doing here Harry?” I flinch as the question comes out harsh, but a reassuring smile tugs up at his lips.

“Checking on you” he says in a ‘obviously’ manner, and runs a hand through his hair, “You fainted in the middle of my set” 

I blush, heat rushing to my face, “Oh”

“You should be free to go in a few minutes, I want to make sure this bag is completely gone before I set you loose” the woman explains, pointing to the practically empty bag above me, and I nod swallowing again.

“Have you been stressed recently, sweetheart?” she asks, her warm eyes staring back at mine.

You could say that.

“Yeah...” I put my hands in my lap, fiddling with my thumbs, “...I recently lost a job, and have been in interviews all week” I say quietly, glancing up to see Harry’s eyebrows drop as he pinches his bottom lip between his pointer finger and thumb.  

“Stress is a powerful thing...” the women tuts, “...make sure to take care of yourself so this doesn't happen again”

I nod, “Will do” 

She gives me a smile and flicks the IV bag, watching as the last drop falls. 

“Alright, I’m going to take your IV out, are you ready?” 

I take a deep breath in and nod, Paige notices my sudden discomfort and puts her hand on my leg. 

“Here we go” 

I clench my jaw as the women pulls the needle from my vain, and I let out a breath when she finishes. 

“Alright, you are free to go, please drink water” she instructs me, as I lift myself up from the ambulance bed. 

“I will” I smile at her and climb my way out, “Thank you” 

“You are very welcome” she smiles back and my heart swells a bit.   

But then it turns to a raging mess when I spot Harry’s hand outreached towards me, offering me help down.

I try to give him a small smile, and put my hand in his as I step down out of the ambulance.

“You scared me to death!” Harper outbursts, and in an instant my friends are surrounding me, holding my hands and looking at me with relieved but worried eyes.

I notice Harry standing to the side, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“Can you give me a minute guys?” I blurt out, watching as they nod and whisper ‘okay’ as they look between me and Harry.

I turn to him, my heart stammering in my chest, and give him a small smile.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asks, his voice soft as he looks down on me with concerned eyes.

Love? Seriously? Is he trying to make me pass out again?

“Tired” I sigh, fidgeting with my fingers, finding it hard to look him in the eyes.

This is so embarrassing.

“I had no idea you were a singer” I state, not really sure what the hell I’m doing.

He shrugs, a smile appearing on his lips, “Well, we hardly talked the night we met, how could you know?”

“Yeah...” I chuckle, “...I’m so sorry about fainting during your performance...it’s not everyday your hookup turns up to be some amazingly talented musician” I say nervously, hoping he doesn’t think I’m a fool, cheeks still flush with embarrassment.

“You really don’t have to be here” I say softly as I gesture to the ambulance.

“Well...” he looks around, “...it’s not everyday your hookup faints while you’re performing a song about ‘em” he shrugs, a smirk on his face, and my stomach drops.

“Wha-?”

“You’re the only Anna I know” he explains, cutting me off, his cheeks slightly pink, as he fiddles with his rings.

My cheeks turn a deep shade, the song was about me.

“Oh” is all I manage to say, a million questions storming in my brain.

“Honest to god, I thought you would never hear it, kinda hoped you wouldn’t too...but here we are” he looks nervous as his eyes fly to the ground, his cheeks deepening in color.

“I am throughly embarrassed” he shakes his head, and a smile forms on my lips at how adorable and small he sounds.

“I would like to make it up to you though...” he suggests, and my eyes shoot up to his, and I can see the fear in them, “...if you’d let me, of course”

I smile, “Alright...what did you have in mind?”

His shoulders slump in relief, and a heart stopping smile spreads across his face, “I wanna show you something”

“Okay?” I quirk my eyebrows at him and his smile only grows.

“It’s going to have to remain a surprise” he explains, shrugging.

I pout my lips, “Fine”

“Are you free tomorrow night?” He asks, pulling his bottom lip in between his fingers.

“Yeah, I should be”

It’s not like I have a job or anything.

He suddenly looks around confused scanning the empty plaza before jogging over to a signing booth and grabbing a marker from the table as I watch him in confusion. He returns to me and his fingers ghost my arm.

“May I?” he asks, his green eyes looking at me from under his raised brows.

“Sure...”

He begins to write on my arm, the ink cool against my skin.

“I’ll pick you up at seven, text me your address” he explains, and I look down to see his number scribbled on my wrist.

“Okay....” I laugh, “...see you at seven”

“See you at seven” he confirms, before starting to walk backwards and away from me.

My friends return and I could hear them starting to fire away questions, but I ignore them as my eyes stay connected to Harry’s, the dimple on his face only growing deeper into his cheek the further he backed away.

Then he winks, and my heart stops as he turns around, and disappears behind a travel bus.

Oh, Harry.

“Anna!” Paige yells, and I snap back to reality.

“Huh?” I say, wetting my lips, and reeling the arm with his number back in towards my body.

“Care to explain what the hell is going on!” she exclaims, pointing to the inside of my wrist where the marker grazed my skin.

“Oh! Uh...” I look down at the number, and I smile, “I think I’m going on a date”

Their jaws drop, “What!” Harper’s voice shrieks.

“Yeah...” I shrug, “...he is picking me up at seven tomorrow evening”

They blink at me in shock, and I can’t help but let my heart soar out of my chest.

[makeitquietly]

A quick recap of what criticism I remember reading about this Blu-ray set: nobody agrees about the picture quality, or on which films it’s best/worst, but it’s on the waxy/soft side mostly because of too much digital cleaning or whatever, the sound is said to be good, some hissing, out of sync in the 1936 version of Berth Marks, extras are good too, no Blu-ray logo on the case, no booklet, awkward menu always reverts back to beginning, no play-all possibility, the films are not in the order of making/release.

But a lot of people worked very hard for a long time to make this set available. Which is why nothing negative should be said about it? Eh. Next time go for quality instead. Or don’t sell your product. Make it a fanwork.

Anyhow, if I was all powerful and had commissioned someone to restore these films, I’d make them go back and do it again if this set was presented to my ruling eyes.

OTOH, I paid 99 euros for this package and have had lots of fun with it and if there’d been Stan’s scrapbook (pages) amongst the galleries, I’d happily paid double. It’s not about the money spent except when people imply that negative reviews aren’t allowed. I’d paid 99 euros for the galleries alone.

It’s about the fact that the films aren’t as well restored as they should/could be. Beyond me, why it’s so difficult to admit. And it’s clearly not only an issue of getting waxified during some final cleanup or somehow being ruined when transferred to Blu-ray disks.

Any idiot (me) knowing nothing about the processes involved can easily confirm this by watching how different films on the same disk have different quality, likewise first reel can be almost okay, the second much worse, scenes and cuts have often annoyingly varying quality, even single frames look like they came from different prints and nothing was done to make them fit more seamlessly in their surroundings. And I’m not talking about that one wandering frame in Scram!, which must be some person’s idea of a joke, how else could it be so out of place?

Or didn’t anyone watch these that one last important time since it wasn’t removed, nor were the countless spots still there in most of the films? I know, when things get cleaned up that one remaining crumb is much easier to spot... er... see my point?

There are also jumpy frames, which I imagine would’ve been easy to adjust, and to prevent those ubiquitous flashy cuts, you’d only needed to adjust the brightness of that single frame causing the flashing. Even I have done that on GIMP when making gifs. I’m guessing too much contrast on, say, Me and My Pal isn’t a problem created by the wax people either.

The ridiculously softly glowing Brats might be, there’s an awful lot of glowing in One Good Turn too, and in parts of Sons of the Desert, for example, where faces are dangerously close to have that overly scrubbed look, which is a big problem in The Chimp and Come Clean.

When it comes to wax, Helpmates and County Hospital are the most hideous, the latter must be the worst looking of all the films in this set, being also awfully spotty as well as too dark. It’s got other faults too, like wonky frames. The Music Box has a pretty decent first reel (except for the opening scene), and despite not being able to see the stripes on Stan’s and Ollie’s pants because of too much contrast, Me and My Pal is also clearly better wax-wise in the first reel.

It’s interesting to watch some of these films for the first time, thinking that this is crap quality picture, but then the second reel is even worse and suddenly there’s a whole new level of crappiness.

I think the sound is ever so slightly out of sync for a bit in Way Out West and One Good Turn. At least it is compared to those same films on my 21 DVD set. In addition to being very clearly out of sync in that Berth Marks reissue like others have noticed. Berth Marks also has a weird stripey “cover” over the actual film. I suppose it was impossible to remove.

Even with some sync problems, if I had to choose the best restorations from this new collection, Way Out West would be on my list, together with Busy Bodies, Hog Wild and Towed in a Hole. Some parts of Sons of the Desert look gorgeous. With grain and all. Pretty much like Atoll K but unfortunately not as consistently. (Atoll K was restored by different people, I gather.)

The much anticipated but already online for free since 2019 The Battle of the Century then? Well, the first reel is quite good, or would be if it wasn’t a weird blend of an ugly greenish yellow or yellowish green. Sepia isn’t what it used to be. And I would’ve thought they’d made sure to get all those black spots removed at least from this one what with it being one of the “new” things on this set. The second reel is worse except colour-wise. But at least it’s there complete with Charlie Hall and the “what pie fight” ending.

Haven’t mentioned The Midnight Patrol, Their First Mistake or Twice Two yet. The last two are pretty evenly waxy, and comparing The Midnight Patrol to Come Clean and The Chimp makes it not that bad. There’s no actual need to bleach faces or an excuse for Billy Gilbert’s patternless shirt, is there?

For me the treasures from this set can be found on each disk under galleries. Even for those not interested in scripts, press material, posters and assorted documents, there are circa 1,400 photos, many of which really are rare, or at least I’d never seen them before. One of the gems are the about 140 photos from Babe’s Vim days. Awesome! Nothing as gemmy from Stan’s past before Laurel and Hardy, and someone put wrong names on the photos where he appears with the Hurleys, not the Cookes. Yes, there’s a short, handy description for most of the photos. 

So many of them and I must peruse more, of course, but I’m going give a special mention to Stan with both Loises on the set of Brats for adorableness and likewise to Thelma Todd for previously unseen (by me) variations from her photoshoot on that bathroom set. Love the six new-to-me photos of Stan and Babe together on the 1932 British tour especially. Great stuff. Oh, and Mae Busch, Dorothy Christy and Charley Chase in their Sons of the Desert portraits look fabulous.

Another treasure are the interviews with only a couple of slightly dubious moments. Joe Rock made me grin. George Marshall made me cry. Walter Woolf King made me laugh. Most wonderful. Short introduction by Randy Skretvedt for each interview. He’s the one who did the interviewing too. There’s 15 of them altogether. Plus a chance to hear composer Marvin Hatley perform Honolulu Baby and Will You Be My Lovey-Dovey. The audio only interviews come with some more great photos.

I kind of adore how Richard W. Bann casually debunks Anita Garvin’s The Battle of the Century story with one dry line during his commentary of the film. Hurts so good. Let’s have more debunking!

Speaking of the commentaries, and maybe more about them on some other occasion, Bann only comments The Battle and The Music Box, all the rest, including That’s That and The Tree in a Test Tube have commentaries by Randy Skretvedt.

I was expecting Bann to tell the whole story of why it took so long to get The Battle on video but he didn’t; fair enough, I thought, but then in his other commentary he goes on about his grudge with a dead guy, so I guess it was not his, um, politeness that stopped him from dishing on the much more recent and therefore interesting stuff. What then?

Perhaps a third person sharing the commentary duties would’ve been a good idea. That was my thought when Skretvedt obsessed over Stan’s smoking for the third time. By obsessed I mean he listed all the films where, according to him, Stan smokes. What for, you may wonder. I did. No answer. I remember reading somewhere that Stan not smoking in the movies means he’s a child. (Yes, some Laurel and Hardy fans are somewhat weird sometimes. Aren’t we all?) Maybe Skretvedt was trying to debunk that theory? Hehe, okay, I know he wasn’t, because he did the “they’re children, Hal Roach said so” routine in his Their First Mistake commentary, complete with Charles Barr quotes to prove there’s nothing gay about Ollie liking Stan more than his own wife. Made me fume. I don’t know why. Nothing new.

I don’t know why it doesn’t occur to him that if Ollie didn’t spend so much time with Stan, Mae wouldn’t be the lonely, disappointed wife who ends up wanting a divorce after one too many lies from Ollie and accuses Stan of alienation of Ollie’s affections. But no, apparently it’s no wonder that Ollie likes Stan more than his wife because she hits him with the broom. So the hitting came first and then too much time spent with Stan? I don’t think so.

Anyhow, third person, more variety, something newer, or at least an explanation for Stan’s smoking being of particular importance. Ollie’s smoking isn’t mentioned. Also, to digress even more, I always found the claim that Stan doesn’t smoke because he is a child odd, not only because he does, but also because he drinks alcohol too and manages to be married in several films. But the Laurel & Hardy child squad of course thinks the wives are actually their mothers. (Yes & again, weird.)

I did and do also wonder if there would’ve been anyone available and even if there had been, if these old school fans had accepted someone with different views. Probably not.

Still waiting for Skretvedt to notice Stan’s camera looks. Maybe he just hasn’t been a fan for long enough yet... 😛

I’m out of steam now. Need to rehydrate.

One more thing: No booklet, so maybe nobody involved wanted to spread about their name more than absolutely necessary knowing the restoration work was, shall we say, uneven?

Tl;dr: Uneven restoration work. Great extras. Mostly interesting commentaries.

[leiaevans]

leia’s decision to audition for the summer musical had been a completely last minute choice that left her scrambling to put together her game plan. she practically had two days to pick a song, memorize a monologue, and practice for pieces in both her and joey’s. normally she felt like she worked well under pressure, more motivated even, but it would be a lie if she said she didn’t feel the pressure surrounding her. could she actually do this?

when leia had first heard the announcement that this year’s summer musical was going to be mamma mia, auditioning hardly crossed her mind. sure, she had been a part of the new directions and the cheerios for all four years of her high school career, but the one of mckinley’s musicals were one of the things she had never been crossed off her list. it wasn’t that she hadn’t been interested in the musicals, in fact it was rare to find someone in an arts school who didn’t want to be involved in some way or another, but leia had always found an excuse or a way to talk herself out of it. from her inexperience to her busy extra-curricular schedule, she had practically burnt out every excuse in the book for herself which made it that much harder to say no when both joey and drew continually encouraged her.

at first, leia had told herself she would help with joey’s dance and nothing more. that way she was helping out her friend while still getting a little taste of the auditions. a dance she could do, she had learned plenty of dances and routines for the cheerios, how was this any different? but after not being able to get the musical off her mind and talking things through with both joey and drew, their encouragement for her to try it out giving her the small boost she needed, she finally decided two days before the last audition day that she would follow their advice. she already was going to be there to help joey out, why not give it a shot? it wasn’t like it was one of the bigger productions the school put on, it was simply their summer fundraiser. or at least that’s what she told herself to get her past the school’s glass double doors.

walking into the school building, the gust of cold air circulating the building hit leia unexpectedly, a small smile on her face. she hadn’t thought she’d be walking these halls again so soon, but as she walked down the fluorescent lit halls to the finn hudson auditorium, she couldn’t say it wasn’t nice to be reminded of the good memories she had in this place. and in a way, she was still adding to that list, even if she didn’t make it into a huge role. feeling herself starting to become more and more distracted as she went, leia had to force herself to reel in her focus on one thing at a time, her first obstacle to pass being joey’s audition dance number. she wanted to do well in this dance number because she knew this was part of joey’s audition, but in a way this was part of her own audition too. she was trying her best not to let her thoughts roam past this first task of the day, knowing if she thought too much about it she would start to psych herself out, so instead she gave herself little to no room to think about anything except running the dance steps in through her mind once more while rushing her way to side stage where she was meant to wait for joey’s cue. 

when joey stepped over and grabbed her hand, she felt like she was right back on the side of the field during a football game as her smile went on and she was swept away into the music. by the time the pair had finished and leia was walking off the stage once more, not only did she feel good about how it went, but she had fun. after all the practice they had done in preparation, the steps were easy to keep up with and she was able to just enjoy the music and the dance without any stress clouding her every thought. in fact, recreating the waterloo scene almost made her begin to feel excited to be doing not just mamma mia, but the musical in general. as she made her way back to outside of the auditorium to sit in wait for her own audition, not wanting to listen to the other auditions and psych herself out, she truly let herself get lost in her thoughts. after all that had been happening around her, from school ending to the ongoing distance between her and theo, she was ready for a distraction. for something to get her out of the house for more than just a day. maybe it wasn’t trip to the coast to some beach or a summer road trip, but this could be the event that really does make her summer the special ‘last’ summer before college is in full swing. she had a good feeling about this summer. that is, until she heard her name being called, the weight of her nerves finally hitting her as she shakily stood.

truthfully, it all boiled down to leia’s lack of confidence in herself. she had never been one to be insanely conceited or self-assured in her skills. she knew she wasn’t the worst performer in any sense, but if anyone asked she would be the one to humbly say she was ‘decent’ or ‘alright’ and truly believe that. it was a fault she had always had, despite her parent’s unwavering support and reassurance that she was just overthinking. she had just always had the fear that she would get up to the stage and completely bomb her audition, or even worse, get a decent part and let everyone down because she couldn’t memorize her lines or keep up with the numerous dance numbers required. but if there was one thing she had learned from her previous talk with julien, it was that she couldn’t let these worries and insecurities prevent her from performing her absolute best. she needed to be present in the moment instead of dwelling on the ifs, ands, or buts. as long as she believed she had put her all into it and she did all that she could, she couldn’t be disappointed in herself. 

with one last deep breath and reassurance muttered to herself, leia pushed open the door and stepped into the auditorium. despite her quickened heartbeat and nerves feeling like pinpricks covering her skin, she kept her head high and her thoughts positive as she made her way to center stage, a smile spread across her lips. “hello everyone, i’m leia evans and i’ll be singing requiem from dear evan hansen.” she spoke out, her usual bubbliness was still there but between wanting to remain professional and her nerves, it was dialed back in comparison. “oh, and uh, i would be happy with any role you see fit for me,” she finished with another smile sent to the directors and a nod towards the pianist. leia waited with closed eyes, feeling herself shift her weight from foot to foot as she was unable to stay still. she knew this song was one she practically knew by heart, being one of her favorite musical soundtracks throughout the years, and she had practiced it nonstop over the past couple of days, she just had to simply begin. all she could do now was her best, so that’s what she did.

as the music began to play, leia finally opened her eyes as she began the first line of “why should i play this game of pretend?” she hadn’t necessarily picked this song for the relation to mamma mia like she maybe should have, but leia had always thought the music in dear evan hansen was beautiful, even if the message wasn’t. she also thought this would be one of her best bets to show off her vocals and emotional range to a certain degree, seeing as she had no real experience in acting but had learned how to show the emotion behind a song. while she personally had no situation she could compare to that the musical portrayed, with such an emotional ballad she felt like she could dip into situations of her own to portray that sense of emotion. leia had always been one to bottle up emotions, especially when her parents went through their divorce. while it wasn’t a death or a true loss, she had felt like it was the loss of her family. all of the pieces of the loving family were still there, but they didn’t fit together anymore. she had always tried to play off her feelings, wanting to be strong so that her parents weren’t having to worry over her at the same time, but truthfully it affected her, more than she’d liked to have admitted. 

before she knew it, she was finishing out the song with the final “i will sing no requiem tonight”, practically on the verge of tears herself, just thankful that her voice hadn’t cracked during the last verse. giving herself just a moment of pause to catch her breath and return to the present, leia then quickly moved on to the monologue portion of the audition. while both the song and dance seemed to take no time at all, the performance of the scene she had chosen went by even quicker if at all possible. when she had fully completed the audition, she moved to thank the directors for their time before quickly moving off stage and out of the building. it wasn’t a broadway level performance in any sense, having stumbled over a word or two during her monologue, but overall leia could easily say she felt relieved. despite the over thinking and the nervous haze that had seemed to follow her there, she actually felt good, confident in what she had done, and that’s all she have asked for.

[gwiiyeoweo]

Reggie freaks out. Noctis brings out the ‘mother’ in Tidemother.

Pairing: Noctis & Leviathan, Noctis & Regis Rating: G

Accordo was nothing like Lucis.

The Crown City of Insomnia had her bright lights and towering buildings, monumental things that pierced the skies and scraped the inner Wall, Regis’ magic barely able to cover the entirety of their city. During the day, the sun gleamed harshly across her pillars of steel and glass, heated the concrete and asphalt until they threatened to blister. At night, the loud thrum of life never faltered, and the marching steps of commuters and businessmen only walked to a different tune. The lights switched on, the obnoxious neons and LEDs lighting billboards or storefronts and shady nightclubs, and the streets were filled with white headlights and the purr of engines. She was a carefully constructed system, all sharp edges and manufactured borders, and boasted the culmination of technology and ancient magics.

Altissia, however, was a stark but lovely contrast. While Insomnia was surrounded by steel and earth, Altissia bathed herself in sparkling waters and soft stone and perfumed air. There was history in every marred brick, a living piece of art whose splendor shone in her architecture and people. Life bustled here, but not in the same way as Insomnia whose citizens were much like drones in a hive; they were like schools of fish, some lazily flitting about or scurrying this way and that in vibrant spurts of energy.

Regis loved his kingdom and his city, and he was a king proud of all that he's protected and helped nurture. But he couldn't deny the breathtaking sights and the savory scents of Altissia. It had been years since he last set foot in this nation, when he had been but a young man set out on a diplomatic mission to build relations between Lucis and Accordo. Now, with the threat of Niflheim pulled back into its den — for however long that would be — he held high hopes he could finish what he had once failed to do.

Regis, accompanied by Cor and Clarus and a handful of council members, walked down the ornate brickwork as they followed Lady Claustra's advisor through the city. With one hand raised and held tightly, he occasionally looked away from the beautiful artwork and sculptures that filled the plazas and stole a few glances at Noctis, who had decided he'd rather walk atop the narrow stone fencework that kept its tourists from falling into the waters. No one had the heart to remind the prince of his manners, not when this was his first time overseas ever since Tenebrae; and children, even royalty, deserved to behave as children. So Regis kept his grip firm but gentle, helping keep his boy steady as he nimbly put one foot in front of the other on what could have been a balance beam.

Noctis listened with rapt attention to the cries of gulls and the crash of waves all intermingled with the bustling noise of tourists and street music; and when his eyes gleamed with such innocent excitement, even hardened councilman Ferriam caved and bought a pretty little berry tart from a street vendor for the young prince. Noctis devoured it in record time.

Beyond their retinue, where several people stood and watched in shared whispers and pointing fingers, there were those who recognized their faces, the Lucian black suits, and the Draconian emblems emblazoned into their regalia. Some only watched in quiet awe or hushed murmurs, others were more bold — paparazzi, most definitely — and clicked on their cameras with wild abandon, the telltale sound of clicks and shutters going a mile a minute. Regis noticed the look shared between Clarus and Cor, the silent language of their subtle gestures and hidden expressions. No doubt news of their arrival would reach Niflheim and ultimately stir up some trouble.

Accordo had been a target for years, barely able to keep neutral and fend off Niflheim’s political advancements, especially with the power play and snapshots of military strength Aldercapt and his men liked to remind the world of. But hopefully, with the very odd but very appreciated winterstorm that battered and froze over the nation, Lucis could take advantage of the weather phenomenon and make alliances where she could, and hopefully, end the tensions that threatened them all.

Regis knew he should think of the repercussions of the paparazzi — though his council had already planned for the worst and worked out contingency plans — but Noctis’ wide smile and glimmering eyes were a potent distraction. And infectious. He could feel a warm smile creeping up on his own face. Maybe, he blithely hoped, the reporters and journalists would get a decent candid shot, so he could clip it out of the newsprint and save it in his scrapbook.

It's the third day of their diplomatic visit when Regis about tore his hair out, one second away from breaking all protocol and proper decorum.

Everything had been smooth sailing. Claustra had kept her sharp wits and no-nonsense tone as expected, but she had been very open to his proposed terms and possible alliance. Their talks had only hit minor roadblocks, conditions that could easily be tailored to suit both nations’ needs, marked with little to few resistances on either sides. Clarus and Cor had actually learned to relax a little, as they were somehow delegated to be Noctis’ fishing partners when the boy dragged both of them by the hands to a pier. Last month, Noctis had figured out how to stuff more things into his Armiger, namely a rod and tackle box when he had become so engrossed in the hobby. (Regis had wiped a proud tear from his eye, and wondered what shenanigans his son would inevitably come up with.)

His darling boy had even eaten vegetables. Altissia's culinary greatness had managed to get Noctis to eat peas and broccoli, and Regis was still debating whether or not to abuse his authority as king to swipe whoever the chef had been and slap a visa on them. He could bring them back to Insomnia as Noctis’ personal chef, and Claustra wouldn't be too upset if he did, or so he hoped.

But that idea was tossed to the side, and a prince's personal chef would be pointless with no prince to cook for. Since Noctis was missing.

A handful of Crownsguard and battle-sharpened warriors and still the Prince somehow slipped out of sight. Were he not a patient and understanding king, Regis would be counting how many heads he needed to roll.

It had been Cor who rushed to his side and delivered the news first, right when the meeting called for a recess. Noctis had been strolling about the piers with a few guards — or so it was supposed to be — and when his keepers had turned their eyes for a split moment, poof. No royal heir to be seen, yet no sign of a struggle or silent kidnapping.

It took every remembrance of childhood lessons on grace and poise to keep Regis from gunning down the hallway, but his power walk and stark expression kept everyone out of his way. He only paused when Clarus placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, pinning him to his spot, and Regis reeled his head around to glare him down with a tempest and an inferno in his eyes.

“Clarus, I expect a good reason for you to —”

“Altar. Someone reported a child with Noctis’ description at the altar.” Clarus pressed two fingers to the small receiver in his ear, his lips set in a tight grim line.

‘Bahamut help me,’ Regis silently cursed but wasting no time. The Altar of the Tidemother was not only a sacred place of history, its original monuments and the altar itself dating back centuries, but a place of terrifying power. Leviathan was known to take on many forms, from a lithe woman with a sea creature's tail to a towering monstrosity that matched Titan's might. And while her visage changed throughout the history books, her temper did not. Despite Accordo's worship and homage to her, the Astral was known for her ferocity and rage, the tsunamis and ocean storms and gaping maw that could swallow entire islands. She didn't share Shiva's fondness for humans and only tolerated them, at least until her promised time of the Feeding.

And since she had no trouble eating whole cities, she would have no reservations with snapping her cruel teeth around a small boy — royalty or not.

But Regis? He had no qualms with throwing down with the god, even if it meant throwing a lasso around her scaly neck and riding her like a seahorse jockey.

When he heard Noctis’ scream, Regis nearly catapulted himself into the waters.

There, within the tidepool was the Hydraean herself, an immense serpentine creature that made midgardsormrs look like groveling worms. Every twitch of her muscle sent waves across the waters, threatening to drown the surrounding paths and stonework, to sweep Regis and his guards off their feet and pull them into her tides. Thick, swirling tendrils of sea rose into the air, some spiraling into each other in a criss-cross puzzle of ringlets, others taking a transparent form and mimicking the great god herself. Physics bent to her will, gravity failing to keep what should not be dancing across the sea salt air. What should not be his son trapped in a vortex of rushing waters.

Regis’ heart leaped to his throat, and he heard Clarus and Cor curse beside him. Taking no chances and letting no precious time waste, he sweeped his arm to the side to summon forth his sword — because yes, he was going to flay Leviathan like a fish fillet or die trying —

“Hi, dad!”

Regis choked , and it wasn't on the errant sea water that splashed across his face. His magic sputtered, along with the fear and terror that had gripped his limbs and mind. (So perhaps flinging oneself at a raging god was not the smartest idea, especially when one is king and still has a nation to guide, but he panicked.)

Noctis, high above the waters and cradled within a swirling Leviathan mimic, waved both his arms in wide arcs above his head. His smile was as blinding as the sun that reflected off the watery vortexes and the Hydraean's pearlescent scales. The watery serpent, however, as if miffed by the shift of attention, took the boy by the scruff and tossed him higher into the air.

Noctis screamed again, much like the scream that had nearly paralyzed Regis. Much like the scream of a child's laughter and glee, the father later realized.

Leviathan herself rose up from the tidepool, catching the falling boy atop her head. But her scales were smooth and slick with sea, and Noctis coasted down her back at a blood rushing speed as she guided him toward one of her lower fins. A quick flick sent him flying into the air once more, rewarding her with another excited whoop from Noctis.

Leviathan, apparently, made for the ultimate waterpark. The thought was almost as jarring as the knowledge that she wasn't going to eat Noctis after all, that she seemed perfectly content at sporting herself as a gargantuan water slide.

Regis could count on one hand how many times he's been left speechless and daft, but he'll take adding another finger and a soaked boy than have his son eaten alive.

Though as much as he wanted to believe Leviathan meant no harm, he wasn't relieved until Noctis slipped down a solid slide of water and landed back on firm ground, taking a few stuttering steps to find his balance again. With no grand announcement, Leviathan sank beneath her waters once more, withdrawing her powers back and leaving nothing but some light flooding in her departure.

Noctis shook the sea from his hair and limbs before looking up at his father with bright blue eyes and a mischievously angelic smile.

Regis bent down, ready to scoop his son into his arms, but a booming voice had him and everyone else cringing and withdrawing into themselves. Noctis, the dear boy, looked entirely unaffected and swiveled around to step closer to the water's edge.

Breaching the surface, a pale hand gripped the stone at Noctis’ feet.

Regis, with bated breath, could only look on as a tall woman hoisted herself over the edge, dark hair sticking to her bare skin and a shimmering black tail resting in the waters. She smiled warmly at Noctis, who's standing height barely reached her shoulders, and lovingly patted down his wayward hair, wicking the ocean and moisture from his locks and clothes. When her hands reached his sides, she teased her fingers into his ribs and frowned, narrowing her golden eyes before flicking her gaze to Regis.

Her sudden sharp gaze was unnerving to say the least, but when she spoke, it was in that same ancient language and resounding tone, and Regis knew this woman was unmistakably Leviathan, despite never having seen her in physical form before now. She seemed a bit cross at him, judging by her furrowed brows and judgmental stare, but he couldn't figure out why. Not without an Oracle or Messenger to play translator.

“Hey! I'm not a stick!” the boy whined.

Noctis pouted, puffing his cheeks out at Leviathan. She turned to him, gaze turned soft once more, and petted his head. When she murmured again in her archaic tongue, he grumbled some breaths and looked down at his feet, her soft ministrations doing little to settle his ire. “I eat! Lots. Like, um, chicken and sandwiches, if there's no tomatoes or lettuce. I like chili too, as long as it doesn't have beans. Beans are gross.”

At this, Leviathan gave him a suffering  look, even tutting at him, before she reached her hand into the waters and pulled out a small trinket. She unclasped her hand and held it to him, allowing his widened eyes to soak in the sight, before dangling the fishing lure in front of Noctis, waving the sparkling obsidian as bait before his eyes.

He reached both hands for it as she snatched it just out of his reach. The god waved her other finger at him, and shook her head, whispering another string of sounds.

“What! Nooo, please, I hate beans.” Noctis lamented, stomping one foot against the stone.

But while she would move the tides and torrents, she would not move for this, it appeared. If there was one thing Regus had to commend her for, it was for withstanding Noctis’ infamous puppy dog eyes. She raised the Leviathan lure higher.

Noctis squeaked, hopping up and down as his fingers barely brushed against the smooth weight of his distant prize. It didn’t take long for him to surrender. “Okay, okay. Fine, I'll try eating more veggies,” he groaned and with an added, “Promise.”

Leviathan laughed, her echoes like the silent cold depths of her seas yet like the thundering crash of her torrents, an odd juxtaposition that seemed to phase in and out of itself. She dropped the lure in the boy’s cupped hands, watching as he turned the shining thing in his hands and marveled at the design.

Before she slipped back into her waters, Leviathan turned her eyes to Regis, a predator’s deadly focus bearing down hard upon the king.

And this, Regis knew, and he didn't need a translator to convey the message. Not with the razor sharp teeth she displayed in her lethal smile, a promise and a threat set at each serrated edge. It was the exact same look he silently exchanged with Clarus, Cor, and Titus when they took it upon themselves to treat Noctis, to bribe for the child's favor in their attempts of nabbing ‘#1 Uncle’ for the month.

“Dad! Look what Leviathan gave me! It looks just like her.” Noctis ran up to Regis, proudly showing off the rare lure. Leviathan took the momentary distraction to swim off.

Regis, taking several deep breaths and willing his nerves to calm, took both of Noctis’ hands in his. He didn’t so much at glance at the gift, and instead focused his eyes on his son, to ground himself through sight and touch. To make sure he wasn’t having a stroke or some hallucination. “I…” — his mouth dry, he cleared his throat and tried again — “Well.” Ah, hell. ”Yes, it certainly does, son.”

Noctis bobbed up and down on his heels, closing his hands around the lure and treating it as precious cargo. “I want to go fishing! Pleaseeee. ”

Regis really should have expected that. And the begging puppy eyes.

But being merely grateful that his son wasn't drowning in the belly of a sea god, he couldn't find himself to be upset. There was, perhaps, a pinch of fear still left, though he would have to later analyze just what that fear was directed at or stemmed from.

“Of course, Noctis. I do believe I'll even have time later this afternoon to join you.” Regis glanced to the waters, expecting Leviathan to emerge again and surprise them all the more. “But could you tell me what she said to us earlier?”

To commune with the gods fell on the shoulders of Oracles and Messengers. Yet for whatever reason, his son seemed to understand the Astrals just fine — another idea to digest at a later time, perhaps over a bottle of whiskey with Cor.

Noctis huffed, obviously offended at his own answer, and poked at his little ribs. “She said I need to eat more.”

[kaleidopewrites]

His Adorable Zombie

Summary: Even though you’re exhausted and want nothing more than to sleep, you’ll still be there for Bucky when he needs you

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1888

Warnings: none, just a lot of fluff 

A/N: I’m sorry Anon, for taking this long to post it, but here’s your request :)

Send me a request for a story; anything Marvel or Sebastian Stan based 

Masterlist

48 hours. It had been 48 hours since you last had a chance to get to sleep. The fact alone got you frustrated and upset. And in the past, you thought working at a bakery was tough. Clearly, a flat-out SHIELD headquarters was far worse.

It had been mayhem the last two days. Every member of the Avengers had been out on a mission, so headquarters had been busy tallying stats and other things pre- and post-mission for everyone. You had the glorious job of keeping Tony and Rhodie on task.

And, as simple as that sounds, it can be very difficult. Mainly, you have to keep Tony focused on the task ahead, instead of listening to music or talking about funny quips to give to targets. For a super smart genius, continuously on the front lines, he can be quite comfortable.

You wished you’d been assigned to Bucky and Steve’s mission.

You and Bucky had been dating for only a couple of months. You both were introduced by gravity, where, you’d misplaced a foot going down a set of stairs and fell into Bucky. For the first time, you were grateful for your clumsiness.

He’d been shy and nervous when you first met him, only managing to squeeze a few words out of him at a time. But as soon as you were on his radar, you were on the Avenger’s radar. You soon turned from being a faceless agent in SHIELD, to the Heroes’ favourite office worker.

No sooner had you and Bucky been starting to go on dates, did Tony begin to beg you to stay in Stark Tower, bringing you to parties and accepting you as part of the team, even though you favoured sitting behind a computer screen, analysing and organising the theory side of missions.

Everyone had fallen in love with you and, in turn, you had fallen in love with everyone. Nat and you clicked instantly, becoming best friends faster than you could turn in a circle. You got along with everyone else in the Tower but it was you two that became besties first.

Finally, it was the end of the day. You had just finished the last report for Tony and Rhodie’s mission and you couldn’t help the sigh of relief when you noticed there was nothing else left to do. As soon as you were able, you ran from the headquarters.

All you could think about was your bedroom in the Tower, the warm bed practically screaming your name. The guards and few workers below the penthouse floors all gave you strange looks as you stumbled through the front doors.

You were tempted to fall asleep in the elevator until it dinged in the main lobby of the penthouse, where all the Avengers go to hang out. You were thirsty, and knew you should probably drink something other than coffee before you slept for a million years.

The only person in the main room was Nat, and you knew she wouldn’t attempt to make conversation beyond a hello. You stumbled dead-eyed into the lobby and yawned as you walked into the kitchen, the assassin looking up as you grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.

“Hey, stranger! Haven’t seen you in days,” Nat smiled, looking up from her phone and the steaming cup of coffee before her. You were reminded of the hours sitting at the desk, talking to Tony and reminding him countlessly how it was a bad idea to start playing AC/DC aloud during a stealth mission.

So, the sight of coffee made you want to collapse to the floor.

You mumbled something about the office and Tony before you uncapped the bottle, taking a few sips of the cold water. Nat smiled, instantly spotting the black bags under your eyes and the tired look in your iris’.

“Where’s Bucky?” You yawn, leaning down onto the kitchen counter and almost falling from shaking legs. “He and Steve went out somewhere, I’m sure they’ll be back later,” Nat said, taking a sip of her coffee. You nod, before rising and taking another few gulps of your water.

“Alright, well, I’m just gonna pull a Steve Rogers and sleep for seventy years,” You mumble as you place the water bottle on the edge of the counter. You didn’t realise until you felt a cold wetness against your feet and legs that it had spilt.

Nat choked on her coffee at your comment before laughing at the spilt water. Your done look was enough to push her through hysterics before offering to clean up the mess for you. With a grateful smile, you drag your feet to the elevator again.

With rapidly closing eyes, you rode the elevator down to yours, Bucky’s and Steve’s floor before almost falling through your bedroom door. You had never felt so exhausted in your life, and the bed looked like was surrounded by a halo of light.

You swear you could hear Halleluiah in the back of your head.

It didn’t take you long to strip of your work clothes and shoulder yourself into pyjamas before crashing between the sheets. No sooner had your head rested against the soft pillow did you instantly fall asleep.

The next you awoke, you were groggy and still tired. You were in a mess of blankets and pillows, one nostril blocked and your throat slightly dry. It was a struggle to open your eyes at first, but when you did, it was dark.

The curtains in your room were drawn but the room was still dark on its own. With a yawn, you stretched, feeling tight muscles unwind and joints crack before you rake fingers through your hair, scratching at random points on your scalp and neck.

When you rolled over in an attempt to fall back asleep again, you realised how elusive it was. You couldn’t have been attempting to get to sleep again for more than five minutes. At the rumbling of your stomach, you agreed you had to get up anyway.

You slid ungracefully out of the bed, thumping onto the floor with a soft ‘ow’ falling from your lips. Your muscles were numb for being asleep for so long, and you could feel pins and needles spring up your left leg, reaching your butt uncomfortably.

With a slight limp to avoid the pins and needles, you slowly walked out of the room and into the hall. The main hall was just as dark as your room, making you wonder if it was night, or the sun had blacked out.

Did you really sleep for seventy years?

Bleary eyed, you begin your slow march down the hall, feeling like a zombie as you step into the elevator. The bright light had you hissing into the air before FRIDAY dimmed them. You step out into the main room, not spotting the shadow sitting amongst the couches.

With a big yawn that brings tears to your eyes, you drag your feet through the room, switching on one of the lights but regretting it instantly, mashing the button until they turn off again. Your blinded as you walk, ignoring the feeling of someone watching you as you head towards the kitchen.

You misjudge the position of the kitchen counter right before you slam your toes against it, making you jump and reel back. A string of curses leave your lips as you double over, holding your toes in your hand, swallowing back the tears of pain.

Just as you walk further into the kitchen, a light turns on from the living room and you jump and scream, grabbing the first thing you have and throwing it in the direction of the sudden light and person in the room.

It’s a shame the thing you grabbed was just the tissue box.

With a heaving chest, wide eyes and an accelerated heart rate, you finally notice Bucky’s blurry outline sitting in an armchair next to a lamp, the source of the sudden light. You both stare at each other for a moment, both curious as to why you’re in the living room.

“Bucky?” You eventually ask, eyes trying to focus on your boyfriend sitting across the room from you. He doesn’t respond and you’re not sure why, but you have a feeling your zombie-like appearance and desperation for sleep isn’t the bigger issue here.

“Wha-what time is it?” You mumble, grabbing a cup of water from the tap as you head towards him. You’re barely aware of his pale skin, the small beads of sweat sticking his long hair to his temple and the slight fear in his eyes.

Heck, you’re barely aware which pyjamas you’re wearing.

“3am,” Bucky mumbles as you stop before him, struggling to drink your water and not spill it. You miss the way he smiles slightly at you and your obvious delusional behaviour. He’d never seen you so out of it before, always super aware and not looking like a zombie.

“What day? Or, better yet, wh-what year?” You drag out, yawning big again as you cover your mouth with your hand before dragging fingers under your eyes to banish the tears forming.

“Same year, but it’s Sunday morning,” Bucky said, and he realises just how relaxed he was becoming, how the nightmare he recently experienced was just ebbing away; all from you, barely standing before him and ready to sleep for another two days.

You mumble a response, finishing the cup of water before rubbing your eyes with your knuckles. “Why are you awake?” You ask, swaying slightly on your feet.

Bucky knew there was nothing more you wanted than to return to bed. He could see it in your exhausted eyes and the fact that you were struggling to form coherent sentences. But he loved how, even in a subconscious state, you were still aware of him, of the fact that he was awake at an ungodly hour like yourself.

“I had another nightmare,” He mumbled, the memory resurfacing and making him grimace, his muscles tensing again. Normally he wasn’t so open about his constant, reoccurring nightmares. But he didn’t miss a beat when telling you, and he wasn’t 100% sure why.

“Oh,” You draw out, lip pouting as you looked sympathetic down towards him. You take the last few steps toward him before sliding onto his lap, curling up against him. You felt his heart rate go up and his muscles grow tense, but it didn’t stop you from getting comfortable.

“I’m sorry, hun,” You mumble, sighing relaxedly against his warm skin, curling the empty glass against your chest. Bucky was unsure of what to do for a moment, before he exhaled slowly and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m gonna keep the nightmares at bay for you,” You whisper against his own pyjamas and he can’t help but grin as his grip on you tightened, ignoring his flinching reflexes when it came to his left arm.

With you sitting in his arms, he never felt so at peace before. You, even in your dreary state, had managed to create a barrier between him and his nightmares so strong, he fell asleep almost instantly.

If there’s one thing he’ll never forget, it’s the adorable look you had, all bleary eyed with knotted hair and yawning every second.

Like an adorable zombie.

[notabikerider]

Its tag time!!! i found this randomly and i tag anyone who wants to do this too

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?  there is a light that never goes out, my kind of woman, crazy for you, love will tear us apart, weird honey

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? 

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.         “Is her finger on the Stop button, hoping for the strength to press it? What is she doing? I can’t hear!”

4: What do you think about most? honestly movies, food, and my boyfriend

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say? “I know I love it”

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on? clothes on i am not a sinner

7: What’s your strangest talent? I can do a mean angry new york mom impression

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence) no, this one is dumb

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you? both yeah

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar? today no shame

11: Do you have any strange phobias? terrified that whenever im in an enclosed area with a lot of people that someone has a gun and is going to start shooting. irrational but true

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? no??

13: What’s your religion? agnostic 

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? going back inside

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? behind, i love taking pictures and doing film

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band? bitch i cant answer that

17: What was the last lie you told? i don’t remember??? i try to avoid lying at all costs

18: Do you believe in karma? yeah, what goes around comes around

19: What does your URL mean? self explanatory but i made it when i was a lot sadder than i am now 

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength? weakness: emotional. strength: emotional

21: Who is your celebrity crush? a lot of people but probably mac demarco the most

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping? no

23: How do you vent your anger? by complaining to friends and family or writing it out

24: Do you have a collection of anything? i have a lot of journals

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? video chatting, i like to see people’s expressions during a conversation

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become? 1000% yes

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love? i hate the sound of sports announcers and i love the sound of running your hand through still water.

28: What’s your biggest “what if”? what if i would have had the courage to talk to the people i wanted to throughout high school?

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens? yes and yes

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm. my computer

31: Smell the air. What do you smell? the ice cream im eating

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to? fucking middle of nowhere nevada

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast? west coast purely because i live here and i haven’t been to the east coast

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender? mac demarco

35: To you, what is the meaning of life? happiness and love 

36: Define Art. impossible?? the point of art is that it can be anything, it’s subjective.

37: Do you believe in luck? undecided

38: What’s the weather like right now? way too fucking hot

39: What time is it? 9:07 pm

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? no and no

41: What was the last book you read? a heartbreaking work of staggering genius (my favorite)

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline? no and i dont understand how people do 

43: Do you have any nicknames? jill

44: What was the last film you saw? boyhood

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? dislocated knee, three different times

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly? no they spook me up close

47: Do you have any obsessions right now? movies

48: What’s your sexual orientation? bi/pan honestly whatever you want to call it, i like all genders

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you? yeah

50: Do you believe in magic? no

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? depends on the situation

52: What is your astrological sign? gemini cancer cusp (my bday is on tuesday!!)

53: Do you save money or spend it? both, spend some save some

54: What’s the last thing you purchased? clothes

55: Love or lust? love

56: In a relationship? yes im in love with harry gillette 

57: How many relationships have you had? 3 serious ones including the one im in now

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue? no

59: Where were you yesterday? my friends’ grad party 

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? yes my socks

61: Are you wearing socks right now? weirdly related to my last answer but yes

62: What’s your favourite animal? dogs and cows but i love all animals

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you? my humor and my awkward/spazzy nature

64: Where is your best friend? home probably?

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr. @lxvebad @edgarallenidunno @sedatedtaylor @perpetually-mediocre

66: What is your heritage? white

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM? skyping pals

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name? what kind of question is that

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off? yeah i have

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend? yeah i feel like im a pretty A+ pal

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do? RUN TO THE DOG TO SAVE IT AND LOSE MY JOB FUCK THAT I CAN GET ANOTHER JOB THE DOG CANT GET ANOTHER LIFE

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid? this question is too scary i dont want to think about it next

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love. trust, love without trust isnt love at all

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it? there is a light that never goes out by the smiths. i love that band and its impossible not to sing and dance to that tune

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number? 8493

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship? trust, love, passion, respect

77: How can I win your heart? be harry 

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity? yes but that doesnt make insanity positive 

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far? taking my first film class freshman year of high school

80: What size shoes do you wear? 8

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone? dont wanna think about that

82: What is your favourite word? ambivalent or serenity  

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart. love

84: What is a saying you say a lot? hows it hanging & solid

85: What’s the last song you listened to? drunk again by reel big fish

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours? dark red & pale pink

87: What is your current desktop picture? a picture of nate who i miss every day

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be? donald trump

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on? 

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do? well if they dont pose a threat to me id just leave my house for the time being and wait for them to leave

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power? teleportation!

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? a half hour of talking to nate

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? my “best friend” completely leaving me behind

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be? mac demarco 

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? london

96: Do you have any relatives in jail? no

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car? no

98: Ever been on a plane? yes when i was 8 

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say? be fucking nice to each other and accept everyone.