#the greatest catharsis i have had all year…

[flowers-of-io]

the negative spaces

A register of tokens and gestures exchanged before the end of siblinghood.

Word count: 7,839

Read on Ao3

[coriphallus]

A little rant on patch 6 and the implications for bg3's future

Okay, bear with me for a sec its gonna go somewhere eventually. My first bg3 run (thats spammed here on this blog) i played ascended astarion/dark urge romance where i picked the reject bhaal and become the absolute ending.

as it was my first playthrough on release i was vibrating off mt seat and i didnt really have elaborate HCs or anything, i was just doing a quick evil run until the bugs get sorted out. i didn't think much beyond "yes this dude would want the shiny stones for himself"

first time i saw astarion enthralled, i was confused. he asked me to do it, he was quite insistent on it since the beginning of the game. i was confused for a couple of hours, digesting the entire game i just played. Then it hit me; the game was calling me out. it was telling me ive been stupid for not having seen this coming and at that point i felt awe.

it was right, everything pointed to this, it was right in front of my eyes all i needed was to connect the dots that the game laid out quite visibly and i was just too caught up to see.

'well my durge would never do that' didnt matter because thats exactly what the companions thought. Gale thought the powers of an insatiable weave wouldnt corrupt him, that he'd stay true to himself, shadowheart thought shar had blessed and her she'd guide her, that she could be her true self under her influence, astarion thought he'd be free, that he'd cherish the bond he'd made with the player but at the end of the day power reveals; and when that power is acquired through the corpses of thousands its quite evident that Absolute power corrupts absolutely. IT WAS IN THE FKIN NAME.

it was a shining bait i was so focused on getting my hands on that i didn't look back to see the mountain of corpses i had to step on to get there. the game was telling me 'HEY LOOK AT EVERYTHING YOU'VE DONE TO GET HERE, LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THE OTHERS WHO THOUGHT THEY COULD ACHIEVE THIS, DO YOU THINK YOU'D HOLD HANDS AND SING KUMBAYA WITH YOUR FRIENDS AFTER ALL THIS?'

just as there was never an option where frodo could stab saurons flaming eyeball and sit on his throne with the ring on his finger and sam at his side, there was never an ending i could get my 'happy ending' the way id like it to. i wanted frodo to remain in middle earth and have some peace in the end, i didnt understand how he was 'too changed' to remain and sam wasnt when i first read the books. i was angry even, that i didnt get what i wanted. it wasnt like tolkien haphazardly put together an ending out of his ass bcs he didnt know what to do with the characters, its not that he didn't think while writing that the fans would hate it, he wrote a story that achieved its catharsis by reaching its narrative conclusion. it couldnt have done that any other way. it was deliberate. i may not have understood or agreed at the time but it was the story he wanted to tell, and it wouldnt be one of the greatest stories ever told if the writer wanted to please a 10 y/o like myself.

it was never out of character for my durge at all, i was just blissfully avoiding the NARRATIVE.

months later we get this absolute narrative abomination:

and all i can say is im worried.

im worried bcs this is a clear disrespect to the story they've written, im worried bcs if they can do off with huge plot elements and beats such as this just like that it shows a lack of commitment to their own plot and if a huge Point of the game can be treated like a minor mistake than what else can? was is just a lack of oversight that laezel gets killed under vlaakith? can it be waved off if enough vlaakith loving gith players come together and shout loud enough that they want to ride alongside their queen with their gith gf?

what part of the game is tangible to hold on to, and after two years worth of patches that are made to appease the fans at the expense of the story, will it still be the game i fell in love with?

i dont blame the fans for wanting, i blame the devs for delivering. that they could sacrifice the integrity of a pretty straightforward story bodes ill tidings for the future of this game.

yes i wanted this feature, but i was glad i wasn't given it. i may have been confused and slightly miffed that i didn't get to reign supreme with my evil bf, but i immensely respected the game that could call me out on it. i wish they could show the same respect to their own writing.

[hakunahistata]

2024 Fic Roundup / AO3 Ask Game

Thank you for the mention @gaiaseyes451, my beloved!

What fandoms do you write in?

Good Omens

How many words have you published in 2024?

62,344 of my own words according to my writing tracker! I had the pleasure of participating in so many collaborative works this year so my AO3 word count is a bit misleading 😂

What is your greatest achievement this year?

Honestly, just doing. Writing, sharing, collaborating, stepping out of the proverbial fandom shadows and interacting. Before November of last year, I had never been more than a lurker. Stepping into the GO fandom space has brought so many kind, talented, supportive, and funny people into my life.

What are your favourite top three fics you've written this year?

S.T.A.Y. - Sex Pollen in Space! I adored everything about this writing experience: the prompt, the server, the world-building. I'm really proud of this one!

Paradigm Shift - If you'd told me when I signed up for GOSP that I'd be paired with one of THE writers of all time @voluptatiscausa, nerves probably would have pushed me to pull out (heh) of the event. The challenge this fic brought me was welcome and the best part? Vol's friendship! Vol, you're a gift of a human being. The enormity of your heart is staggering and I'm honored to know you.

A Quiet Life - Yeah yeah, it's not finished yet but it will be soon! Collaborating with @lenaellsi has been so fun and I'm so grateful they decided to extend their talent (and patience) to this fic! Writing this story has unearthed something profound in my mind and while it may not all make it onto AO3, it's been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life and has been the seed for so many meaningful conversations with my therapist

What was your biggest pit of despair moment?

August/September was when I hit the "oh no, I don't have any more ideas, I'll never write again" period. While my writing is slow-going at the moment, at least I know I can still do it lol

What have you learned?

So much. Writing is not about chasing perfection. Feedback is crucial and is not a personal attack on you as a human being. Make a schedule. One of the most important lessons, however, is perspective. Remember, this is supposed to be fun. It's a hobby. Be honest about where you're at. Gonna miss a deadline? That's okay, it's not the end of the world. Drink water, have fun, and stay silly!

What fic did you want to do but never made it off the ground?

Oh boy, a bunch! I have a lot more to add to Love Not Given Lightly (ten parts mapped out rip me) and a chef!Crowley human AU I'd like to dig back into.

Did you beta any fics? Any favs you want to shout out?

I had the distinct pleasure of betaing so many incredible fics this year!

A Little Life by @gaiaseyes451 - The tears and catharsis experienced while reading this were like nothing else. Gaia, this fic is so stunning and I'm so proud of you for writing it.

Show the Way by @the-literal-kj - Gah! KJ, you know Gaia and I had SO much fun betaing this. I laughed, I cried, I hated Connecticut. A+, no notes.

That Certain Night by @adverbian - Adverb, your writing prowess will never cease to amaze me. This fic is poetry, through and through.

Collapse by @ineffable-rohese - Rowan, I think of this fic daily. The care and devotion expressed in this part of your beautiful series is love incarnate.

(New Time!) SftAoAJCJBP (Hybrid) (Join on Teams) by @malachitegrey - Y'all, please read this. It's rare that a fic makes me laugh out loud and I cackled while reading this. Mal, I live for your corporate tales. Your ability to blend humor with gut-punches is next level. ILY!

Your Art of Love and Your Love of Art by @voluptatiscausa - You know that swooping feeling in your gut when you experience something that matters? I had that feeling aplenty while reading this. Vol, you're a poet.

What three fics have you read this year that you love?

The Saint of Lost Things by @gaiaseyes451 - Gaia, your command of language is immersive. When I read this, I was there. This fic is a visceral experience paired with a truly killer soundtrack. 100000/10

Honey, There Is No Right Way by @voluptatiscausa - hhhhhhhHHHHH! I want to eat this fic, I love it so much. It's so tender, sweet, and the smut, y'all the smut! Vol, I love you forever and will never forget getting this notification while watching Nye with you just a few feet away :')

shine upon your pillow by @naromoreau - I know this was written last year but I don't think I read it properly until this year and I STILL think of it. Sweet and spicy >:)

We Can't Keep Meeting Like This by @gingiekittycat - Another fic that I know was written last year but it has such a special place in my soul. Gingie, this fic is so sweeping and if I could have any fic be made into a series/film, it'd be this one. You're a marvel!

Mistletoe by @snae-b - Punks! Holidays! Sweat and spunk! This fic has e v e r y t h i n g

What ideas are percolating for next year?

A composer AU with @gaiaseyes451 is at the top of my list 👀

Who do you want to thank?

@the-literal-kj and @gaiaseyes451, your friendship and support have been transformative. I love you both so much and I'm thankful to have you in my life and slidin' into those DMs! High Pollen Server, there are so many of y'all in there that I'm worried I'll miss someone so if you're in there, I tag YOU! @adverbian, @malachitegrey, @voluptatiscausa thank you so much for fostering such a supportive, empathetic, kind, and funny corner of the internet. It's not often you find an online space that's restorative but that's what the High Pollen server is for all of us. Big living room vibes!

I'd like to tag viewers like you!

[egg-emperor]

You're the expert on Eggman so I'm really curious to hear your answer

If Eggman found that Sonic died (something along the lines of Sonic was killed by someone else or he fell victim to some strange disease) would Eggman be upset that he didn't get to experience killing Sonic himself or would he immediately begin partying and start working on his vision for Eggman land?

I know Eggman would be ecstatic about finally getting to move towards his goals with no obstruction, but I guess what I'm really asking is how would Eggman feel knowing that something else took the life of his greatest enemy and he'll never get to experience the thrill of being the one to do it

(Also, in this hypothetical situation, Eggman did not kickstart the events that led to Sonic's death whatsoever. It was mostly out of nowhere, and Eggman is just finding out about it.)

Aww thank you I'm honored to be considered an expect hehe 💜

I feel his initial reaction is always to be absolutely delighted and burst into laughter because his arch nemesis is dead and that will never be a total downside for him. The two moments we've seen his reaction to Sonic presumably being dead, he's been overjoyed, standing out as some of his happiest moments in the entire series lol

And while technically he was pretty much responsible for both as Sonic wouldn't have been cyber corrupted in the first place if Eggman hadn't kicked it all off, we still got to see how he feels if he isn't the one to really directly finish him off, calling it his "only regret". While he would've preferred it of course, he can be happy about it regardless. It's still hilarious and delightful to him

Though if he had no involvement at all because it was from some other foe that isn't connected to him, or a sickness, or anything else, I could see him being a little disappointed or even mad about how he couldn't get the glory of killing him. Like in a possessive "Hey, that was my prey! I was going to be recognized for my power and brilliance by killing him!" type way-

But overall he'd still be happy he was gone, the benefit of him no longer being around to get in his way remains. Plus he could still get the glory of defeating the rest of his friends if he's not feeling satisfied when he can't take any pride and credit in anything. As long as he gets the sense of accomplishment and bragging rights in other areas, I think he'll be happy enough in the end

So I'd say he'd probably still have the same mindset of when he said Sonic denied him the pleasure of finishing him off. His initial reaction would always be joy and laughter, even if after it wears off, he pouts like "But it should've been me that did it though >:[" and feel a little unfulfilled. It feels like he was denied one of the greatest thrills, catharsis, and satisfactions he could feel

And he could go "Wow sucks that for years I've aspired to put that blue pest down myself and the opportunity was ripped from my hands. I wanted to put him in his place and prove myself before I rid of him forever!" Because let's not forget, the reason he kept Sonic alive in prison in Forces was because he wanted to show him his completed empire before banishing (killing) him

He would wish he could've shown his glorious empire to Sonic and said "Ha I told you I could do it, I was never bluffing! Now the world is mind and my glorious empire will rule supreme and you're nothing before me. Now goodbye forever!" And really rubbed his accomplishment and superiority in his face, then had the glory of killing him himself. That's his absolute dream scenario

Accepting that he isn't ever going to get that could be a tough pill to swallow after years of anticipation and fighting for it but it wouldn't stop it from overall being a great positive thing overall that Sonic is dead. What's done is done, so I think he'd be able to replace it in the end by proving himself to all the rest of those that try to resist him and getting the joy of killing his other enemies himself

l can also see him still thinking it was hilarious if he died in such a lame way if it was due to a sickness or something instead of in an epic battle lol. He might not have been able to prove his brilliance in it but Sonic at least proves his patheticness. Like how I can see him looking down on Maria for her terminal illness and dying by a bullet and using it as a reason to say he's better in both cases

Then he can personally prove his power and superiority by destroying or dominating the rest by himself. He'd know how to look on the bright side of it and find other ways to use his demise as proof of his own brilliance either way. In the end it'd still result in him cracking open a bottle of champagne and celebrating that blue bastard's end and the beginning of his glorious empire XD

So I think the upsides would outweigh the downsides no matter what, as he'd still get what he always wanted with his main dream of dominating the world and building and ruling his empire. It's just along the way defeating Sonic also became a part of it so it can be a bit a bummer- but he won't let that sour the happiest time of his life when the world is finally his, he has an empire to rule!

But I mean hey, maybe Eggman wouldn't want to accept it, to the point he'll go back in time to save him or find a way to revive him 06 style, something so noble and heroic. Like oh my god maybe he actually can't live without Sonic and needs him in his life! - But then it's actually just so he can kill him himself and get the glory and the credit. Dig him up to make sure he gets it lmfao

And he'd still do it in a way that he gets to prove himself, by taking him prisoner for a while while he builds his empire, shows it all to Sonic to really anger him and then gleefully declares that they'll engage in one last epic battle to the death with him, where he plans on finally killing him. That would be pretty fucking awesome. But if he loses and Sonic gets to live on, it'd immediately become his biggest regret!

[shin-meddlesome-hero]

Gundam Journey Recap 2024

Last year’s recap: Here

Another year of Gundam Brainrot. This time I watched more stuff because I wasn’t watching Zeta for 8+ months like last year. Here’s a very summarized opinion on everything I watched. Once again, take my ratings with a grain of salt.

Zeta Gundam: It took me an eternity to watch and I still want to write some essays about it. I get the feeling that I need to rewatch it in order to completely understand it. I’ll be honest, it was a pain to watch but it’s the UC Gundam series I’m still thinking about long after I finished it. I love Kamille, and Char/Quattro elicits in me the same reaction that many of you guys have towards Reigen Arataka. You’re gonna hate me, but that ending was amazing, one of the greatest payoffs I’ve ever seen. On the other hand, it was an absolute mess with women (a very interesting mess but sometimes it got annoying).

Enough amount of Char. 4/5

Gundam ZZ: I get why some people don’t like it, still it was a very fun ride. Unlike Zeta, I was able to watch this in a month and a half (look, I’m very slow at watching series, so this is a record time for me). It was like an 80’s Saturday morning cartoon so it gave me a lot of nostalgia. The first part was weak, but once they get to Earth and the opening song changes from “Anime Ja Nai “ to “Silent Voice”, it gets really good. I also enjoyed most of the characters.

Char only appears on the opening. 3/5

Char’s Counterattack: Guys, this movie was so hyped for me that once I finally, finally, FINALLY got to watch it I… didn’t felt much. I mean, it’s ok, I guess, and Char and Amuro are very Divorced. I don’t know, I expected a bigger catharsis, or to finally understand Char or get obsessed with him and Amuro and it just didn’t happen for me. It’s good, but I didn’t feel the same things I felt with G-Witch or with the Zeta finale.

Too much Char. By the end of the film I wished that he was punched more. 3.5/5

Hathaway’s Flash: Somehow I enjoyed it more than CCA, and it really got me interested in Tomino’s writing. Visually, it's good, and the “char clone” from the movie is fascinating. I’m not telling you more, only that this is the aftermath of Char and Amuro’s actions in CCA. Also the animation and character design is top notch. Hope that we get a second movie soon.

Excellent Char successor. 3.5/5

Gundam F91: It’s a total disaster but it’s very entertaining to watch. The first half of the movie was really good, but then everything happens so much, we have a character change sides and die in less than 10 minutes, and there’s a lot of details that aren’t explained. The protagonist is bland and no one gets too much character development. It’s kind of my guilty pleasure, because it’s obvious that they tried to cram a whole series in a 2 hour movie and they failed, but the try was worth it. Makes me wonder what It’ll be like if the story had reached its full potential. The character and mechanical design, along with the music and animation is pretty good. I would recommend it only for that.

There’s a bad Darth Vader knockoff and the actual Char clone looks like a pirate. 3/5

Gundam G no Reconguista Movies: I watched these when I got sick during summer vacation. They’re a wild ride, just like F91, everything is happening so much all the time and there’s barely an explanation. It’s a very curious experience because Tomino has A Vision he has to convey and he doesn’t mind if the plot and characters are sacrificed to achieve it. The characters had a cute design but there was not much to them, it was cartoony like ZZ, but somehow ZZ had more character depth, so it’s not exactly what I was expecting, but it was fun.

Hated the Char clone, however. 3/5

(At this point I became more obsessed with Tomino than with Gundam, I didn’t really trust that anyone else could write a good UC Gundam story besides him -I’m conflicted about The Origin-.)

Gundam: Requiem for Vengeance: Looked like a stereotypical American military story at first, but I liked where the plot went. I still think it’s funny that the protagonist is your typical soldier who lost their spouse, but this time it’s a woman. Who’s also a mom!!! (Yes, this is a very important plot point. Unrelated but it left me once again daydreaming about a story where Elnora was a Gundam protagonist). The ending fails if you’ve watched ZZ. It’s not bad, but you can skip this one.

No Char :( 3/5

Encounters in Space: One night I wanted to treat myself, and went straight to the 3rd Gundam compilation movie. This is my favorite arc from 0079 and the adaptation didn’t disappoint. Completely recommend it.

Right amount of Char. 5/5

Gundam ALC Encounter: An animation short that was projected on the walls of a shopping mall near the Nu Gundam statue in Fukuoka. Basically Lala Suneh reincarnates and becomes a lesbian tiktoker while Amuro and Char punch each other.

I didn’t like Char’s hair here but Lala has a girlfriend. 10/5

Gundam 0080/War in the Pocket: Started like your typical late 80’s kiddie adventure movie (it even sounds like one), ended like a Shakespearean tragedy. I really liked that the conflict wasn’t that big. It’s a more intimate kind of story, and the anti war message is effective. On the other hand, it’s hard for me to believe that the Side authorities just left a Zaku lying there for days, but whatever. Best Christmas special.

No Char but we don’t need him. 4/5

Incomplete series:

Gundam Build Fighters season 1: (first 10 episodes) Looks like a very fun shonen that reminds me heavily of Angelic Layer. However it sucks when it comes to female characters which is unforgivable for me considering that so far Gundam is one of the few shonen/seinen franchises that’s actually pretty decent about women (yeah, even Zeta). I’ll watch the rest once I’m able to turn my brain off for a few hours.

SD Gundam shorts: Some of them are pretty funny but they also suck when it comes to the female characters. I liked the shorts where the mobile suits are in the sengoku era.

Turn A Gundam: (25 episodes so far) Gave it another try after watching the first UC Gundam series and I absolutely love it. The series is super chill, it’s kind of my confort show right now. I really like Loran. So far it looks like it’ll be a 5/5.

Gunplas built this year:

G-Witch Kits: Full Mechanics Aerial, SDEX Aerial, SDW Heroes Aerial Onmitsu (I like Aerial), Suletta Mercury, Gundam Calibarn.

UC Kits: SDEX Nu Gundam (currently painting it), Gundam MK II, Semi-transparent HaroPla.

It’s still a pretty fun hobby. I found out that the SD kits are perfect to begin practicing painting and customization, so I’ll be trying that out. I also want to try out some RG and MG kits if I’m able to buy them.

TBR List:

So I haven’t read much of the Gundam manga and novels yet. But there’s stuff I really want to read:

*Beltorchika’s Children *The Hathaway Novels *Crossbone Gundam *Vanadis Heart *That one G-Witch spin-off *Char’s Daily Life (I would like to read the whole thing this time).

If you have more recs let me know. :)

[bananaofswifts]

BY RACHEL SONIS

It came to her in a dream (an embarrassing one, at that), Taylor Swift recalled about the origin of her song, “All You Had To Do Was Stay.” On the cusp of her ascent into stratospheric superstardom with the release of her fifth studio album 1989 in 2014, Swift explained to TIME that in the dream, her ex had come to her front door to get her back, and all she could say back was a high-pitched “Stay.”

“It was almost operatic,” Swift said. “I woke up from the dream, saying the weird part into my phone, figuring I had to include it in something because it was just too strange not to. In pop, it’s fun to play around with little weird noises like that.”

It’s how some of our greatest pop songs have come about: making music out of the weird or the strange. That's why it is all the more surprising that “All You Had To Do Was Stay” has never gotten its due. With the release of Swift’s rerecording of 1989 bringing Taylor’s version of the song, nine years after the original, the time has come to reassess the long underappreciated track.

There’s a science, of course, behind “All You Had To Do Was Stay” and its placement on 1989. The song falls into what Swifties call the “Track Five” factor. If you look at Swift’s albums, the story goes, the fifth track of each one is the saddest and most cathartic of the project—and typically best captures its mood and message. On Fearless, it was “White Horse.” On Speak Now, it was “Dear John” and on Red, “All Too Well.” The list goes on, and for the release of her seventh studio album Lover (with “The Archer” as track five), Swift acknowledged the clear pattern.

Contrary to popular opinion, this is also true of “All You Had To Do Was Stay.” It’s one of the saddest songs in Swift’s discography, but it’s created in a way that feels foreign to those who have been following her music since she cried tears on her guitar. In fact, it’s worth asking if it’s a strategic move for the self-proclaimed “mastermind” of subtext.

Saying so long to the country darling we once knew, 1989 marked Swift’s entry squarely into the pop arena. We heard inklings of this in Red two years prior, but this time, the shift in sound was unmistakable: Swift was charting a path toward a kind of pop stardom where her music was going to become ubiquitous and permeable—heard in your bedroom, your mom’s car, or even on the dance floor.

In many ways, this album was meant to be a light-hearted pop forward soundtrack to Swift’s life. “Shake It Off” and “Blank Space” were devil-may-care responses to the media circus and Swift’s romantic throes while “Welcome to New York” was a gleeful proclamation of young adulthood and finding one’s footing in a world that is electric and full of possibility. Even the most pointed of songs, “Bad Blood,” still feels coy and playful. But as any Swiftie knows, you can never have fun without the pain. And that’s where “All You Had To Do Was Stay” plays its critical role.

Perhaps that’s part of the brilliance of 1989, but also of Swift’s mastery. Behind the pulsing synths, drum pads, and processed backing vocals, lyrically, the story she’s trying to tell is just as vulnerable, relatable, and cutting. “People like you always want back the love they pushed aside. But people like me are gone forever when you say goodbye”—a line that lands with a sinister calm before an explosive “stay!” carries us into the chorus. There, with brutal honesty, Swift battles how complicated breakups can be: how you might hate someone and still want them back. How people inflict their deepest wounds on each other despite their best intentions. And how you can dance through the sadness and feel release—from that person and sometimes, even, from yourself.

Catharsis comes in many forms and from places where you’d least expect. Sometimes it’s tender and quiet. But it can also be loud and raise hell. With “All You Had To Do Was Stay,” Swift made clear that catharsis in the form of the latter was OK—that loudness and spectacle is OK. The song’s drama, sharp storytelling, and dreamlike quality are unmistakably Swiftian. At the same time, it shows the beauty of how pop music works: How weird and crazy sounds and your most embarrassing stories and dreams can be operatic and accessible. If only you give yourself enough room to lean into it and dance.

[afreakingdork]

Hey Dork! I've been rereading the newest chapter of Soft Spot over and over again, and now I need to ramble. I hope you don't mind, and I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense 😅 I have a hard time organizing and articulating my thoughts.

I think it's interesting how you went about showing different kinds of parenting from the perspectives of someone who wanted to be a parent (Donnie) and someone who moreso had the responsibility thrust upon them (Splinter, and on a lesser note, Raph)

We've seen Donnie go through the motions throughout the entirety of Soft Spot. We see the initial desire, the highs and lows throughout trying, the joy when it eventually happens. And then we hear his thoughts about whether he's even worthy of such a gift! But he wants this, and he's willing to take the bull by the horns so to speak.

Now with Splinter, there's no denying he loves his sons. If push came to shove, he absolutely would lay down his life for them. But when it comes to actually parenting them... yeah, there's much to be desired there.

But I can sort of understand both sides of the situation. For Splinter, after a life as a movie star, getting kidnapped and enslaved twice and then turning into a rat is definitely going to have a negative toll on your mental health. And not being able to talk to anyone about the trauma was going to leave it unresolved for a very long time. So you can understand why he'd be deeply depressed after the fact.

But he also had three children at the time. And it's super obvious that he just wasn't emotionally ready for that. So Raph, being the oldest, had to pick up the slack. And while Splinter and his boys have a good relationship now, it left all of them with some baggage.

And what must Donnie think about that whole mess? For years, he had heard Splinter talk about how much he wanted him, how much he loves and cares about him even after all his misdeeds. And then, for the first time, he's finally hearing about the kind of father Splinter actually was.

It gets Donnie, someone who wanted a child in the first place and fought to get it, thinking. And there's a certain catharsis when he gives Splinter his verbal smack down, even if you still feel some sympathy for the rat man.

And then the acknowledgement of Raph's efforts 😭 He's not technically a parent, but there's no denying the role he played in his brothers' lives. Leo and Mikey, while still not the greatest, are better for having Raph play that role for them. Donnie already had it in his head that Raph was the only option for the role of godfather, hearing about his efforts just further solidified it.

I don't know how to conclude this, so I think I'll just stop here. But just know my brain is full to bursting with so many thoughts 🤯 I shall make you some art later, when my brain is a bit clearer.

I never mind! Please feel free to ramble to your hearts content; I love to read it!!! 💞💞💞 Also, who made all y'all so self conscious about this 'making sense' concept! I will take them down!! Every single one of you is insanely eloquent and I won't have you talking yourselves down!!

This chapter being called piecemeal was very purposeful. We are seeing a ton of fragments of things we've never seen before. From the other side of Splinter's supposedly amazing parental skills to what happened from the final as of yet unknown side the night Raph got acid dumped on it, it's all about perspective!

I cannot tell you how perfectly you've captured my intention. This is everything I hoped to convey in my writing and more. I never mean to condemn Splinter's parenting. As reader said, Splinter did the best he could with what he was given. It goes all along with the larger schemes of Weak/Soft Spot still toying with that concept of what really is evil or good.

UGH!! Reading this was truly such a pleasure. I can't thank you enough for analyzing my work. You are truly such a pleasure, meg! Feel free to drop by anytime and WAH THANK YOU FOR EVEN THE IDEA OF FANART!!!!

[imnotasuperhero]

Some feelings, they can travel too.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, the greatests love stories come to an end.

TW: Cancer, grieving, major character death. A doze of smut just to add to the angst (I set it in cursive, so you can scroll past it if you don’t mind the little bits of feels)

A/N: My dudes. I don’t know what to tell you. I’m here once again with a request that was too hard to decline since it hits home and I thought it might work for some overdue catharsis. I cried my eyes out resulting in a headache, so pardon any mistakes I made. I’ve been working on this for several hours and babysitting a 3 y/o is no calm job. Hope you enjoy this over 6k monster of mine (I reached anotehr milestone and I couldn’t be prouder) And like I say, if I hurt, it’s only fair you do, too.

Looking up at the imponent building in front of her, Wanda readjusted the straps of her backpack and followed the commands of her twin, doing some breathing exercises to calm her erratic heart.

Being the new kid at school was never something Wanda enjoyed, no matter how many times she had to transfer thanks to her dearest father. She hated feeling so small and the fact that she wasn’t the best at making friends did nothing to ease her anxiety.

“Come on, Wanda!” Pietro grunted annoyed, backing his steps and grabbing her hand to drag her along.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” Wanda sighed, trying to escape his tight grip to no avail.

“I do. And if we don’t hurry, we’re gonna miss our first period.” At the annoyance tinting his voice, Wanda decided to shut her mouth and follow him to the reception.

After getting each of their class schedules, the twins headed back through the path they walked.

“Okay, your classroom is at the next hall, third-”

“I heard what the lady said. I know where to go,” Wanda rolled her eyes at the need to punch her exasperating brother.

“Okay then, I’ll see you in the next period,” Pietro kissed the top of her head, trotting towards his own class.

Looking through the small window of the door, Wanda could feel the baby hairs of her neck spiking up at the new faces unaware of her presence.

‘Please, may this year be nice,’ She begged silently to whoever God was out there.

Wanda had to remind herself not to run the small distance that separated the teacher’s desk from the door at the numerous heads turning to her simultaneously.

“Hi,” Wanda handed the white schedule to Mr. Chadman -as she read in the tag at the door. “I’m Wanda.”

The old man inspected the paper for a few seconds and nodded quietly. “Welcome, Wanda. Please be seated and enjoy.” He gave her a smile that reminded her of her late grandpa.

Looking over the classroom, she walked hunchedly to the only seat free, beside some girl with unique glasses.

“Hi,” said girl gave her a toothy smile, making Wanda smile. “Name’s Y/N,” she turned back to doodle something on the blank page of the boy behind her before fully turning to the front. Her head leaned to her expectantly.

“I’m Wanda,” the brunette mumbled as she took a seat and slowly took her books, as if trying to seem unbothered by the stare burning the side of her body.

“It’s not all the time we get new students,” you said in a whisper, for Mr. Chadman had started the lesson already. “Where are you from?”

“Um… Sokovia,” Wanda braced herself expecting the typical questions that followed, but gasped when you surprised her.

“That’s near the Czech Republic, right?” You asked thoughtfully.

“Yep,” Wanda couldn’t help but smile. Maybe this won’t be a hard year, after all.

The rest of the school day was spent with minor inconveniences, except for Pietro’s teasing when he found out she might have made a friend.

Thought that was confirmed when she heard a familiar voice calling over her. 

Looking to her left, she saw you standing on a table waving at her with that characteristic smile she learned to like.

“Hi,” Wanda smiled timidly at the 6 smiling faces staring at her.

“Guys, she’s Wanda. Wands, they’re… my friends,” you giggled sitting back down, scooting over to leave room for Wanda.

“Natasha,” the redhead spoke, sending daggers to you, to which you just threw a small piece of bread at her. “Nice to meet you,” she now turned to Wanda, showing her white smile.

“How’s school treating you?” The tall, brunette boy sitting adjacent to her spoke next. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

Before Wanda could answer you gasped, earning your friend's attention.

“Right! Wands, he’s from near your country,” you smiled brightly, almost excited.

“Wait. Where you from?” His blue eyes lighted up expectantly.

“Sokovia,” Wanda dried her sweaty hands on her jeans, gathering all the confidence she could muster.

“Not that near, but I'll take it!” Bucky raised his hand.

Laughing at the glee plastered on his face, Wanda high-fived him.

The passing days had Wanda relaxing by the minute as it seemed she had met the right people thanks to you. Granted you all could be a little too much for her to handle, but she was expectant of what this school year could bring to her.

What she didn’t expect though, was discovering you in a new light as you busied yourself with a well-used notepad. Be it because of curiosity or something she wasn’t familiar with, she wasn’t able to take her eyes off you for the past few minutes.

“What are you working on?” Wanda scooted over, sitting beside you on your bed. “Seems like your life depends on it.”

Pausing for a second, you sighed calmly as you turned to look at her. “Remember how you told me you loved to sing but you sucked at writing your own songs?” You asked cheerfully.

“Yes,” Wanda’s face contorted into one of suspicion. 

“Well, I’m finishing a song you might like to-”

“You what?” Wanda all but took the notepad from your hands, reading through the black letters contrasting against the white pages.

“As I was saying, I thought you’d like to participate in next month’s talent show.

“I- No.” Wanda shook her head. “Not happening.”

“But why,” you whined, taking her hand in yours and Wanda felt an electricity wave travel up her arm. “You have a beautiful voice and it’s unfair the world doesn’t know it.”

“I appreciate your willingness in sharing your talent with me and I love this song already. But I don’t sing in public.”

“You really like my song?” You asked, your eye shining with something Wanda couldn’t put her finger on.

“Are you kidding? It’s amazing!” Wanda smiled proudly.

“Thanks,” you looked down, but Wanda could notice the rosy tint in your cheeks. But as soon as the shyness came, your stance was taken over by mischief.

“Tell you what,”

“Oh, no. I know that look and I don’t want-”

“But Wanda! I promise it’s a good thing!” You pleaded and Wanda could only sigh.

“Okay,” you paused confidently. “You sing this song in the talent’s show and I show you the tons of songs I’ve written.” 

“Absolutely not.” Wanda nodded in the negative repeatedly.

“But Waaaaaands!” You whined deeply, conjuring the best pout you could, and Wanda only raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“Besides, you dream of being a famous singer,” you continued when the silence had stretched for way too long. “How you’d make it if you don’t get out of your comfort zone?”

Wanda hated when you used her future to have it your way. But if she was being honest, she knew the day would come sooner or later, so she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

“You better show me all of them,” Wanda laughed joyfully when you threw yourself at her, hugging her.

“I knew you’d come to your senses.” You spoke toothily, looking down at her comfortable smile.

But said smile turned into a thin line when Wanda realized how close you were. So close she could feel your small breaths colliding against her lips like a needed breeze on a hot summer day.

Poking your side, Wanda scurried from under you. “You’re squeezing me,” 

“Blandy,” you rolled your eyes, sitting up.

“I- That’s not a wo-”

“I’m the creator here,” you shrugged her off to which Wanda poked her tongue at you.

The following weeks passed in a blur as you both worked on the song Wanda would sing. Long nights on the weekends turned into a constant between you two and Wanda couldn’t help the peace she felt when you were by her side. Despite the bubbly, -hyperactive at times, charming persona you held, you were like a soothing balm to her conflicted insides, silently healing the wounds her demons left her with.

“I can’t do it.” Wanda panicked, turning to her best friend.

“You can and you will,” you grabbed her by the shoulders, making sure her eyes stayed locked with yours, making Wanda hold her breath for a little longer than necessary. “I believe in you, Wands. You’ll do great!”

“What if-”

“Nope. I’m forbidding you to go there.” You chastised. “You said you trusted me, right?”

“Always,” she answered nervously.

“Then believe in yourself, babe. You’re capable of amazing things if you just cross the line,” you smiled comfortingly, fighting Wanda’s inner shadows away.

With those words, Wanda hugged you before she stepped onto the stage after hearing her name, adjusting her guitar trying to avoid the public’s eyes.

Looking at you one last time with your supportive smile grazing your features, Wanda faced the crowd with her eyes closed as her fingers played the right chords expertly.

Picture a place where it all doesn't hurt

Where everything's safe and it doesn't get worse

Oh my

We see through bloodshot eyes

Wanda’s soft voice accompanied the soothing notes from her guitar, creating a spell that hypnotized everyone in the room.

Jump with me, come with me, burn like the sun

We'll talk, then we'll cry, then we'll laugh 'til we're done

Oh my

It's like we're out our minds

We've been runnin' for our lives

We've been hidin' from the light

We've been far too scared to fight

For what we want tonight

Wanda dared to open her eyes as she gained the confidence needed and smiled something proud at the faces full of calm in front of her.

Close your eyes and leave it all behind

Go where love is on our side

It's a trust fall, baby

It's a trust fall, baby

By the time Wanda realizes she’s been staring at you, the last few chords come to its end. Feeling her heart burning from something she wasn’t sure of, Wanda played the last note smiling as everyone clapped and cheered at her. The adrenaline of the moment took over her, making her run to you after she walked off the stage.

“That was amazing!” Wanda giggled, closing her arms tightly around you.

“You are amazing,” you stood there, patiently holding her.

Breaking the hug, Wanda looked at your eye and felt the fire inside her burn stronger at the utter pride she found.

Before she could react, her lips touched yours, like a magnetic force dragging you together.

“I’m sorry,” she freaked when she realized what she just did. But the dreadful feeling disappeared when this time, you leaned forward, kissing her painfully slowly.

Smiling through the kiss, Wanda encircled her arms around your neck as you hugged her waist, bringing your bodies impossibly closer.

“Let me take you on a date?” You smiled when you parted for much-needed air.

“I would love that,” Wanda smiled as calmly as you, hugging you one last time hiding her face in the process, as she heard the voices of your friends nearing at a fast pace with the promise of celebrating after the show.

The stars shining over reminded you how small you were. Your small body was nothing compared to the cold rocks twinkling up in the black sky and a pang wounded your heart as Wanda shifted beside you, feeling the right side of your face burning under her intense gaze.

“Can I ask something?” Wanda’s voice was barely audible, afraid to break the calm.

Turning your head, you leaned forward pecking her lips. “Go ahead.”

“Why there’s a tinted side on your glasses?”

Closing your eyes, you sighed defeatedly. You knew it was too good to be true. Yet, you wished for the ask to never come.

“I’m blind in my left eye,” you pursed your lips, awaiting a reaction.

The gasp that escaped Wanda’s lips had you bracing yourself for the worst. You weren’t ready to give up on this living dream.

Before you could dwell too much into your sadness, Wanda’s hand cupped your cheek, as if inspecting her following actions were safe.

The burning sensation you felt on your left cheek started to prickle upwards your face as slender fingers were dragged agonizingly softly -a featherlight touch, really. Your breath stopped mid-exhale as Wanda lifted your glasses, caressing the skin beside your eye. You were thankful for the dark of the night around you, making it harder for Wanda to notice what could easily shine with the light.

As Wanda’s intense gaze shifted from one eye to the other, you closed your eyes to stop the forming tears. But what happened next had you choking a cry as Wanda kissed your broken eye and you could only wrap your arms around her waist as you hid your face in the crook of her neck, trying unsuccessfully to hide your pain.

“Detka,” Wanda mumbled with her lips against your head.

Seeing you did not move, Wanda just stood there, holding you at a weird angle that provided you the comfort you needed and you silently thanked her. You weren’t ready for this part of your story to see the light and being honest, you didn’t think you’d ever will.

“Detka,” the brunette tried once again after a few moments. This time, you complied. And the look you saw in those green eyes had you inhaling sharply.

“What happened?” She asked, combing some locks off your forehead.

“I had an accident when I was little,” you lied. “I was helping my dad with a project and a splinter got in my eye, leaving it useless.” You spoke confidently, having used the lie for so long.

“It suits you,” Wanda winked and you laughed something small, appreciating the fact she didn’t pity you. Or that she didn’t show it if she did.

“Can I have my glasses again, please?” 

“You can,” Wanda carefully placed your glasses in its place, kissing your nose to move to your lips.

Humming at the contact, you allowed yourself to relax for the time being. More than ever, you decided to live your life the best way you could without thinking of the looming ghost over you.

It was a Wednesday when the fact you were a few weeks away from graduating high school hit you. And with that, the rainy day felt even more gloomy as the thought of another milestone so close, yet so far away given the condition you were in.

But that thought was pushed to the back of your mind when the honking car outside signaled your ride had arrived.

You had planned to go bowling with your friends as the last gathering before finals started the following week, determined to cherish every single second you had with the people you loved.

That’s how you found yourself fighting with your left shoe as the lights were dimmed.

“Let me,” Natasha squatted in front of you, making a quick job of your shoelaces.

“Thanks,” you smiled toothily, hooking your arms together as you walked to your friends a few feet away rooting for each one of the Maximoff twins in some game you didn’t care to pay attention to.

Once everyone was in your booth, you started the game as Pietro decided he was going first.

The afternoon was filled with laughter and playful banter and you couldn’t be happier having your friends and your girlfriend by your side.

“You’re up,” Bucky cheered you. “Show speedster how we do it,” he winked, causing you all to laugh while Pietro grumbled something you couldn’t hear.

Walking to the line, you chose the purple ball and measured your distance with precision. Balancing forth and back until you felt confident enough, you sprint to the limit line throwing the rolling ball as hard as you could.

“Wooh!” Wanda and Natasha cheered as you dropped all the pines in one shoot.

You smiled proudly as you walked back to your friends, waiting for Pietro’s commentary.

“Pretty impressive for having one eye,” he rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed that you were leading the charts.

“Who says I just have one?” You frowned, hiding the giggle in your voice. “Tony gave me a bionic eye.” You shrugged, earning a chorus of ‘ooh’s’ from the youngsters.

“What!” Pietro looked shocked at the boy adjacent to him.

“What can I say? I like helping my friends,” Tony high-fived you as you sat beside him.

That night you held onto the toilet bowl as if your life depended on it with Wanda holding your short hair up in a ponytail as you had woken up with a sudden need to empty your guts.

“What can I do?” Wanda asked on the verge of tears as she never stopped the circling patterns on your back.

“It’s okay, love.” You sighed deeply as you stood up on wobbly legs. “It was the fried egg, probably,” you opened the mouthwash and gargled the nasty taste away.

Turning around, you couldn’t help but hug your girlfriend at seeing her so small. It was at that exact moment that you knew you did good in not telling her the truth.

“I don’t like seeing you sick,” the brunette pouted.

“Having you by my side makes it bearable,” you kissed her nose. Something that had become usual between you both whenever the other needed reassurance.

“Come on, let’s go back to bed,” you encircled her waist with your right arm, walking her to the bed.

The next minutes were spent in silence, enjoying each other’s warmth. Until the air around you started to weigh.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You turned to the body beside you.

“You think we’ll make it?” Wanda’s voice trembled and you felt your heart constrict at the not-so-positive prospect of your life.

Raising your hand to her face, you allowed your fingers to caress her soft skin, tracing her features with the lightest of touch, admiring her natural beauty and the dreamy way her eyes shone with the moonlight casted over her.

“It’s just college, baby,” you reassured her, pecking her lips.

“Far away schools,” she pouted something that had you all mushy.

Pausing, you decided to bite the bullet. “I was waiting till graduation,” you sat up, rummaging through your nightstand until you found the black velvety box. 

You smiled softly at the choked gasp that left Wanda’s mouth as her eyes landed over the small square.

Opening the cube, you took out the small chain, holding it between your faces, absorbing all of Wanda’s emotion at that moment.

“Oh my,” Wanda grabbed the silver object, smiling watery at the pendants in her trembling hand.

“I know how much music means to you and is no secret it’s what bonded us,” you spoke calmly. “This is a reminder that no matter how far we are, we’ll always be connected.”

You quietly admired Wanda’s eyes glued to both musical notes, the eighth note hanging lower than the sixteenth note.

“Thank you,”

The sudden weight on top of you had you laughing as Wanda peppered your face with kisses while she repeated the same two words after every kiss.

“I love you,” the brunette cried with a smile before she locked your lips against hers in a searing promise. Of what, you didn’t know; but you surely won’t stop her for anything in the world.

But what started as an innocent kiss filled with promises of a future you might never see, shifted to something passionate that burned your body from the inside out and the clothes hugging your body started to suffocate you.

“Wands,” you moaned as your hands toyed with the end of her shirt.

The brunette sat quickly, discarding the clothing on the floor and you couldn’t help admiring the pale skin that invited you to emboss random patterns on its surface. And you did.

Your hands cupped her breasts, massaging them gently as you sat up to meet her lips, drawing out her moans.

At the tug on your shirt, you parted to take it off before you attacked her lips once again, grabbing her waist to guide her against your cunt, enjoying the every sinful sound that escaped her mouth.

Not having enough, you rolled over, landing on her as you started to trail wet kisses down her body, applying everything you learned during these three years, determined to allow her to remind you when your time had come. 

The primal moan she mouthed when you bite on her hip bone had your hunger increasing ten times. 

“Detka, please,” Wanda grunted in a gasp, bucking her hips up trying to find what she needed.

Grazing the tip of your nose against her mons pubis, you inhaled her intoxicating essence.

If the sound Wanda freed were sinful, the guttural sob she gifted you with when your tongue lapped at her folds had you in paradise.

Repeating the action once, then twice, you gathered as much wetness as you could, moaning between every lick. As if you licked your favorite lollipop after a bitter taste.

Deciding to finally give her what she wanted, your kisses ascended up, wetting every single patch of skin you could reach, smiling at the neediness of her voice.

“I need you,” she cried as she grabbed your head and brought you to her level, devouring your lips just to moan when she tasted herself.

Taking advantage of her dizzy state, you pumped three fingers inside of her as her head rolled back breathing something so sinful that you thought you’d been cursed for life, and you didn’t complain. Moving your digits in and out of her entrance at a slow pace you groaned at how tight she felt.

“You feel so good,” you praised. “Taking me so well.” Wanda could only moan at your words, too focused on matching your movements.

Sitting up, you stilled her with your free hand, never stopping your action as you looked down at her. The immaculate way in which her body writhed under you was something you could never forget. The perfect shifts in her face’s muscles with every pleasure you provided her had you wishing for your reality to change. You wanted nothing more than to live forever just to have her this way. A vulnerable mess under your touch, trusting you her soul.

Muffling a painful cry, you leaned over to kiss her devil’s lips, hoping the knot in your throat would go away.

“I love you forever,” you cried as you increased your pace, feeling her walls clenching around your fingers. Your hips pushed your hand deeper inside her as your fingers curled up, hitting the right spot.

“Oh, fuck.” Wanda cried arching her back, unaware of your inner turmoil.

“Cum for me, love,” you commanded, stilling your shivering voice.

She didn’t need much more than a few extra pumps to cum all over your fingers, panting her way down the high.

Opening her eyes, the lust in those green orbs turned into concern as she looked at you.

“Why the tears?” She asked, bringing you to lay on top of her.

‘I’m dying’ “I love you,” you sobbed, placing your ear on her chest, desperate to hear her heartbeats full of life. 

It was all so unfair. You deserved a lifetime with the love of your life. You deserve to have a family and to grow old with the woman that had stolen your heart out of the blue. You deserved to see her in white walking down the aisle. You deserved to see her achieve her dreams.

But all you had was a sand clock emptying itself by the minute and an excruciating pain taking over your stiff body. Breathing was becoming harder and harder as the will in you fought in vain to win a war you had lost time ago.

Wanda’s sobs joined yours as she hugged you tighter, unaware of the fact that the love of her life was nearing the end of her path.

The morning came and you were thankful Wanda didn’t comment on your breakdown from the previous night, for if she did, you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep the lie much longer. You knew she deserved the know, but you also knew she’d be willing to glue herself by your side and give up on her desires, and you never wanted to be that person. She deserved to fly and you could only support her with pride.

The following weeks provided little time for you and Wanda to spend time together since finals were kicking all your asses. But Wanda consoled herself knowing that you all would celebrate after graduation, proud of having achieved a milestone together. That and the prospect of having you for herself the whole summer had her squeezing her fuel tank to no end.

To say all of you had nailed the exams was an understatement as your glasses clinked together on your designated booth.

“I can’t believe we did it, guys!” Natasha smiled toothily, proud of herself.

“Next step, a week off at my beach house,” Tony proposed, earning all of your cheers.

“You sure your parents will let us all together?” Steve raised an eyebrow, always the reasonable one.

“They will. Leave it to me,” Tony winked.

“Make sure you don’t bring any toys,” you smirked as everyone laughed at the memories of last summer’s escapade.

“You wound me,” Tony faked being hurt.

Wanda’s hand rested on your bare thigh, smiling peacefully as she enjoyed the banter between you all. 

Her mind took her back to the first day at school when she prayed before entering your classroom and she silently thanked all the gods out there for having you in her life. With your differences and disagreements, all of you conformed a tight-knotted group that she was sure would last a lifetime.

Kissing your cheek softly, she stood up with both your empty glasses in hand, walking to the bar for a refill.

“You’re Wanda, right?” A tall brunette took her out of her reverie.

“Yes,” Wanda frowned as she waited for her beers.

“I’m Maria. Maria Hill,” the lady introduced herself, stretching her hand. Once Wanda accepted it, she continued. “I saw you on stage the other day and I’ve been waiting to meet you,” her words had Wanda’s attention.

“I’m a music producer and I know how to spot talent,” she explained. “I’d like you to sing at the upcoming festival next month.” 

“Are you serious?” Wanda’s eyes opened wide at the offer the woman was giving her.

“Dead serious,” Maria nodded curtly. “If the public likes you, we can talk business.” She handed her a business card. “Call me if you’re interested.”

With that, the woman smiled politely and walked away, leaving Wanda in a frozen state until Tom called her name.

“Warm beer doesn’t taste good,” the young man smirked.

“Right. But did you hear what she said?” Wanda’s smile grew bigger by the second.

“The only way is up,” he winked before moving to another customer.

Wanda walked back to your booth in an ecstasy state after the short encounter. She could be signed up.

Feeling your eyes on her, she looked at you, unable to hide her happiness.

“I’ll tell you later,” she mumbled to you, kissing your cheek and you smiled contently.

To say you were excited was an understatement. When Wanda told you about her offer you didn’t pause to think about your words.

“You should’ve said yes!” You smiled toothily with your own body vibrating from happiness and Wanda couldn’t help giggling at your reaction.

“I was kinda shocked,” she scrunched her nose.

“My baby is getting famous!” You launched yourself at her and Wanda burst out laughing at your eagerness.

You’ve always been her biggest supporter. Always by her side in whichever gig she got and always fighting the anxiety that sometimes took the best of her.

She’ll never forget when she showed you her first song. Your eye had lighted up like the fourth of July and the pride reflected in it had her insides warming up. And the jokes of having to quit your job but still waiting to get paid had her stomach flipping at the wondering of how you’d celebrate this time when she told you she accepted to play at the festival.

But all of that flew off her mind when she got the call from Natasha saying you’d been admitted into the hospital.

All her dreams and wishes shifted into one. 

‘Please, may you be safe’ she begged to any deity willing to hear her.

Stomping through the hospital doors, she rushed to the front desk asking for your whereabouts, just to sprint the two floors that separated you both.

The air filling her lungs had become toxic and it hurt to breathe. Her trembling legs burned from the sudden running from the parking lot to your hospital bed.

“Detka!” Wanda cried entering room 274.

What she saw had her heart jumping on freefall down a cliff.

Your weakened form looked at her without the life that was so characteristic of you. All the little traits that adorned your happy features were erased as if they never existed.

Her legs menaced to give away and she wasn’t strong enough to fight back. Knees collided against the cold floor as her hand grabbed yours as if the act alone would transmit to you some of her light.

“Detka,” she sobbed as her world started to tumble.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you spoke calmly as your free hand cupped her cheek.

She placed her hand over yours, holding it tightly as she tried to understand.

Two days ago you were laughing gleefully about your vacation together and now… now you looked like a ghost.

“Come here,” you commanded weakly as you scooted over and Wanda didn’t need to think twice.

Careful not to step on any IV, she cuddled against you, choking at the warmth barely existent.

“What- Why,” she cried defeatedly as she crumpled your hospital gown in her hand.

Your arms held her trembling body, spasming with every sob that escaped her. Kissing your head, you mumbled against her. “My eye,” was all your broken voice allowed to communicate.

“It wasn’t an accident. Was it?” She should’ve caught the signs. The random sickness and the vomiting, all had an explanation she was too oblivious to note. 

“It’s a retinoblastoma,” you paused, trying to steady your voice. “It had reached the majority of my organs,” you tightened your hold and Wanda’s soul cried with her at the barely change in strength.

“You can’t leave me!” She screamed between sobs. “You- You’ve- You have promised me,” her whole face contorted as another pang ran through her heart.

The news had left her weak to speak, so she stood there, laying by your side in your hospital bed, crying her pain away as she tried to process how her life would change soon. You were slipping through her fingers and she could do nothing about it other than see you leave.

“I’m gonna call Maria and cancel-”

“What?” You cut her off, looking down at her.

She sat in bed, sighing at the refusal from her body. “You’re dying,” she groaned.

“That doesn’t mean you have to pause your life,” you frowned sternly and Wanda felt herself becoming small, like a little kid being chastised because they ate too many sweets before bed.

“You’re the one abandoning me! You can’t tell me how to spend your last moments on this earth!” Wanda spits venomously, rage taking over her.

The resentment only grew stronger as you stood quiet, your sight staring at your lap.

“You have no right when you’re the one giving up!”

By the time she realized her words, your cheeks were already marked with tears running freely.

“I-” Wanda paused as a fresh wave of tears burned her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she launched herself towards you, holding you with all the will she possessed just to anchor you here. She refused to let you go.

“I’ll always be with you, Wands,” you cried, hugging her with what little force you had left.

“I’ll love you forever.” She vowed sincerely.

And she did. Every day for the next two weeks she stood by your side, telling you about the song she was writing for the festival and watching your favorite movies along with her favorite sitcoms. Even planning gatherings with your friends as you all enjoyed the last moments together.

Against her will, the day of the recital had come sooner than she expected and her heart ached knowing you won’t be there. It was the first time you missed one of her presentations and everything in her broke. Her heart shattered and she knew a part of her would go with you.

But she had promised you. And she would never break her word, no matter how hard it was to comply.

Looking at her reflection one last time, she smiled tearily as she saw your image in the mirror by her side, with the proudest toothy smile you only reserved for her. And that alone was enough to enlight her willpower.

She stepped into the white light as everyone cheered something she could really understand and she couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline running through every cell in her body.

“Good night, Westview!” Wanda smiled cheerily when the crowd erupted. “I hope you’re having a wonderful night. I wrote this song thinking of someone special and I hope you enjoy it.” She spoke confidently, feeling your joyful energy surrounding her. Finding Natasha’s eyes, she nodded as the redhead raised two thumbs up.

As the first tunes filled the silence looming over them, Wanda breathed deeply, reassuring herself.

I've tried to leave it all behind me

But I woke up and there they were beside me

And I don't believe it but I guess it's true

Some feelings, they can travel too

Wanda sang slowly, evoking every emotion into those lines.

Oh there it is again, sitting on my chest

Makes it hard to catch my breath

I scramble for the light to change

You're always on my mind

You're always on my mind

Her intrusive smile hung crookedly on her lips, feeling your presence by her side.

And I never minded being on my own

Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home

To be where you are

Wanda allowed her mind to travel back to the moment she first heard your voice for the first time. Back then, she didn’t know that her heart could feel so strongly for someone.

But even closer to you, you seem so very far

And now I'm reaching out with every note I sing

And I hope it gets to you on some pacific wind

Wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear

Tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here

And boy, how she wished to see your face in the crowd, with your toothy smile lightening her path.

And if I stay home, I don't know

There'll be so much that I'll have to let go

You're disappearing all the time

But I still see you in the light

For you, the shadows fight

And it's beautiful but there's that tug in the sight

I must stop time traveling, you're always on my mind

You're always on my mind

You're always on my mind

Wanda sang her soul in those lines, hoping somehow you knew.

We all need something watching over us

Be it the falcons, the clouds or the crows

And then the sea swept in and left us all speechless

Speechless

Her eyes watered at the realization you’d be the one watching over her. Always guiding her, even if she couldn’t see you. And she couldn’t feel more blessed.

And I never minded being on my own

Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home

To be where you are

But even closer to you, you seem so very far

And now I'm reaching out with every note I sing

And I hope it gets to you on some pacific wind

Wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear

Tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here

As she sang the last words, she allowed her fingers to take over the melody, imagining said notes floating away to you, for all she wanted now was to see your proud smile one last time when she rushed to your side shortly.

But she never saw you again. 

By the time she met her friends, her legs gave up as she saw the tears running down their faces, confirming to her what her soul had felt when she saw you in the mirror was nothing more than the bond that linked you breaking as you left this world.

The arms of her friends surrounding her meant nothing at the realization that you had left her. All alone to pick up the pieces of her heart scattered around.

Sadness reigned over the group of people gathered by your casket. Each one with their own thoughts and feelings, but if Wanda was sure of something it was that everyone there asked the same question.

How come the nicest people are the first to leave? Seeing your picture over the easel with that big smile that had taken her captive and your eye shining with that unique light it held, enlightened a wave of anger roaring free. It wasn’t fair.

“Wanda,” your mom spoke softly once the funeral ended.

Looking up, Wanda couldn’t help her cries as the woman hugged her tightly, crying along with her.

“She loved you,” she spoke against the brunette’s hair. “Until her last breath, she loved you.”

Those words played in her mind like a mantra. Maybe if she repeated them enough, it wouldn’t hurt that much.

“She asked me to give you this,” the woman gave her a white envelope when they parted away. “And one last thing? Thank you for loving her.” She kissed Wanda’s head before walking away, leaving a broken Wanda by your grave.

Sitting down, she let the silence surround her, almost like a bubble that would pop with even the softest touch, breathing twice, thrice before opening the letter.

Wands, if you’re reading this it means my body is no longer by your side. But know that my soul will always be linked to yours, for a love like ours is hard to die.

Thank you for all the great moments you shared with me. Unbeknownst to you, every single smile and laugh you gifted me added time to my sand clock and that blessing is something that kept me fighting till the end.

I know you’re suffering right now and you need to mourn, like any loss. But when you’re able to truly smile again, I beg of you not to close your heart. Life is too magical to be lived alone.

Allow yourself to feel love again, don’t fight your heart. Yes? Promise me you’ll keep your head high and not let my departure keep you from enjoying the little things in life.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about it, but I know you and I didn’t want you to leave your life on standby while you worried about things no one could solve. Know that till the last breathing of my heart, I lived. And I hope to live forever in your memory.

The necklace I gifted you holds a meaning. I knew it deep in me the first moment I saw you that you were my forever love. And I wished with all my heart I lived long enough to grow old with you. But as the latest didn’t happen, I found the right totem to keep our love for the end of times.

The sixteenth note means the union of our souls and the sincere love we held for each other. The eighth note holds the reminder that even though I'm not present, my spirit will always guide you through your dreams, helping you achieve them. Always silently rooting for you in whatever challenge you face. Just like I always did.

No matter what, bet your ass I’m so, so, so proud of you, baby. And I always will. You were my biggest love and I’m forever thankful for you had taken me.

I love you forever. Until we meet again.

Wanda hugged the letter tightly against her chest, silently crying her pain away as she stared numbly at your whereabouts buried three feet underground.

“I’ll love you forever,” she cried, mustering all the love she held for you in those three words, hoping the wind would let you know.

As always, coments and reblogs are appreciated (:

Taglist: @summergeezburr @red1culous @wandabear @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @mitarashi-san​

[klerothesnowman]

Lower Decks is Over and it's Given Me Hope

It's time for me to admit my greatest shame...

I am in my 30s.

That's right, I'm the weird one who wont get off the internet. I'm supposed to be having kids and working a Job™ and instead I'm on Tumblr, the website that is very much so only populated by minors and not a collection of millennials and gen xers who will never move on.

One of the things I think I have to grapple with the most as an adult is endings. And not "oh god oh god I'm reaching the end" ending, but just stuff like the things I love and had been a constant in my life just... Concluding. Gone. I thought as a Firefly fan I could handle a show being cancelled but fact is I was a fraud, I didn't watch it until it was over.

But I'm talking long running, decade long loves. The things that I couldn't even think about ending. Like fucking Sesame Street.

What I'm saying is Nanami Kento was the realest dude.

The Venture Brothers ended after 15 years. Final Fantasy XIV hit its big ending after 10. Destiny had the best ending it possibly could have had with the Final Shape. Naruto ended for me twice, first the Manga then the Anime. I didn't even watch the Anime, but I watched those final episodes and just like finding out who gave birth to the Venture Bros, and just like watching the credits roll on my Warrior of Light, I felt an immense feeling of catharsis. This was it. It was over. my investment is satisfied.

Here FF14 players might be contractually obligated to post the screenshot after mentioning the screenshot and I don't wanna take chances.

There was a big part of me that thought the reason I had such an emotional reaction to these endings was because of the investment, and that I'd probably never experience anything like it again. I wont have that wave of memories, a joy of seeing however many years of history culminate into one big ending.

So Lower Decks was only like, 3 years old? And as the final minutes of the finale panned over all of the characters on the Cerritos we've grown attached to over the years, I felt the catharsis. I felt that my investment was satisfied.

And I'm going to feel it again, because I was a dumb idiot wrapped up in despair over being officially Old. I didn't feel satisfied by the endings of the things I loved because they were old, I felt satisfied because they were satisfying endings.

So, thanks Lower Decks. I look forward to seeing what replaces you.

[shezamaverick]

25 Years of Black Sails

Into and Out of the Sunset

By: Davey Havok

Not long before the final tour of the A Fire Inside EP, a mutual friend asked Mark what type of AFI record he planned on writing to follow our third full-length. His earnest reply: “Unlistenable. Something everyone will hate.” Though this was the type of chaos I would have certainly supported, he never said this to me. He’d stopped speaking to me sometime in the fall of ‘98. Jade took his place shortly thereafter.

The first time I wrote with Jade was in my room beneath the stairs at the defunct frat house that AFI lived in at the time.* That evening in 1998, promptly at our scheduled hour, a knock came upon my thick wooden door. I opened it with an anticipatory smile and nod. “What’s up man?” Jade walked into the shadows of my ill-lit room carrying his acoustic guitar. My mattress and boxspring, set under the flight of stairs leading to the third floor, was the only place to sit. Our new guitarist sat on its edge. I sat on the floor with my microcassette recorder, facing him. The room was scented of cheap vanilla candles. Peter Murphy stared at me from a poster behind our new guitarist. I was excited. Jade was then and is now one of the greatest songwriters I’ve known. My band of seven years was about to begin its metamorphosis. “So, I was thinking,” he offered. “I miss the melodic stuff in AFI. How about we add some of that back in? Nothing crazy, just a bit.” As genuinely ready as I’d have been for Mark’s repellant HXC vision to take AFI down a path that forked toward cacophonous supernova (or 2024 Taco Bell commercials?) I felt Jade’s as well. Limiting myself to screaming limited my abilities of emoting and evocation as well. It was becoming unfulfilling and suffocating.

Jade picked up his acoustic, strummed some chords, and in falsetto sang, “We all begin to burn…” He’d come prepared with these parts and I was immediately hooked. Working from the scratch lyric intended to act as a gang callout, I expounded with conceptual responses and so came the rest of Malleus Maleficarum. I believe some weathered copy of the tome itself had been lying about my room—if not, some witchy text that referenced it. Malleus was the first song we’d ever written together. I can recall our writing of Clove Smoke Catharsis and God Called in Sick Today in that tiny dark room as well. With those tracks, I felt certain our next record was going to be well beyond anything I’d ever thought I would have been capable of being a part of. I was utterly inspired. In our latest writing sessions together, 25 years later, I’ve felt beyond this. What a luxury.

During that late '90s East Bay winter Jade, Hunter, Adam and I put BSITS together in our tiny Oakland practice pad, off 20th, then tracked it with Andy at the Art Of Ears in Hayward. I shredded my voice during my allotted two days of time, screaming out 15 tracks that defiantly sat steadfast at the top of my range. Oh, but to have my 23-year-old healing powers back.

Weeks later, I pulled the advanced master from the mail and squirreled to my parking space by the dumpsters behind the frat house. Sat in the faded burgundy upholstery of my driver seat, I slid the cassette into my ’83 Accord’s silver player and depressed the play button. Click. Adam’s ominous preface to Strength Through Wounding began. The gang of Skinhead Rob, Fritch, and our buddy Dan followed the warlike beat. Then came the impure chant, ominously brooding through my crackling speakers with all the blasphemous piety I’d hoped. I was so happy with what we’d made.

When Dexter Holland, singer of The Offspring and owner of the label we were on at the time, first heard Black Sails in the Sunset he told our A&R guy, “I don’t get it.” Commercially, this wasn’t a great sign. Artistically, it was affirming.

Be they pretty fly, or even barely fly, BSITS did alienate a lot of fans (as had Shut Your Mouth and every record thereafter), but with it we gained more fans who were ready to join us on the ever jagging sonic journey we’d begun. My look at the time was arguably even more confronting than the relatively unorthodox sounds of Black Sails. The rigid regulations of the extremely masculine ’90s hardcore scene didn’t make much room for a singer in whiteface, black lipstick, fishnet, and PVC. Philosophically this remains unacceptable to me. Our fierce and fabulous ancestors gave us our glitter. I’ll leave you with one of the more delightful heckle memories from the unparalleled Life on the Ropes Tour with Sick of It All, Hot Water Music and Indecision:

INTERIOR: a compact second story theatre, packed with hundreds of hardcore kids. AFI is onstage somewhere in the midwest. Clouds of fog spill over the carmine valance as Jade begins the opening riff to their final song. God Called in Sick Today whispers to life as your author crouches in the crawling billows, his vinyl pants reflecting red light into the baffled eyes of dreadlocked white boys in capacious corduroy JNCOs and commodious VOD tees. They impatiently await the NYC legends, SOIA.

A heckle bursts through the gentle riff. “Let’s go, Trent Reznor!”

Your author rolls his heavily shadowed, lined, and mascaraed eyes. How elementary, he thinks. The opening riff continues.

“Come on, Peter Murphy!”

Begrudgingly impressed by the boor’s finer reference, your author’s plucked brows slightly raise with imperceptible surprise. He gives the heckler no acknowledgment, remaining in the song. The opening line of the verse is seconds away when the boy barks,

“Ok, Count Chocula!”

Grinning, your author chuckles for the first and last time ever before singing, “Let’s admire the pattern forming…”

25 years later, the pattern continues to shift.

[freakingoutthesquares]

Poptastic Words: Alexis, Portraits: Pulp Interviewed back-stage at the Highbury Garage, 15 May 1993 Catharsis Fanzine, Issue 4 Transcription: Acrylic Afternoons

"I'm Candida. Hello. I play keyboards." "I'm Jarvis. I'm the singer." "I'm Steve. I play bass." "I'm Russell. I play guitar and violin." "Therefore Nick's the drummer." sums up Candida.

And there you have Pulp - the world's greatest pop band. A band who have "been in Smash Hits" and have even had the honour of having one of that magazine's "Single of the Fortnight". Not that Jarvis can see the band ever being as big as, say, Take That or East 17.

"I can't see too many posters going up."

Pulp were formed by Jarvis whilst at school and the current line up has been together for about five years. But why did they all want to be in a band in the first place?

"I think we wanted to frustrate ourselves," says Candida.

"We're complete sado-masochists," backs up Nick.

Is it what you all always wanted to do?

"Yeah," confirms Jarvis. "I, kind of, wanted to do it at school. I used to imagine, when I was in the school's dinner queue, that I wouldn't have to queue up if I was famous. It's not particularly true. That's what I thought it would be like but it's not."

So, after deciding he wanted to be a pop star, Jarvis went to film school. Why?

"That was after we'd been doing the band for a while but I was disillusioned. We'd been messed around by loads of record companies and the final straw was when the bass player became a born again Christian and left the band. It all seemed a big mess. We didn't actually split the band up but I thought I ought to do something else cos it's all I'd been doing since I left school and I thought my brain was drying up. I thought I ought to do something else to keep it alive a bit."

Now it's 1993 and it's going to be a good year for Pulp. Their records are being picked up on - their last single 'Razzmatazz' got Single of the Week in Melody Maker - and it is rumoured that they have signed to Island Records.

"We're with them spiritually..."

"I don't think we've signed or anything," says Jarvis over Nick.

"...we're, kind of, engaged. It's been a long engagement."

"But long engagements are the best," stresses Russell.

Why do you think it's taken so long for Pulp to be appreciated (Pulp has been around in various forms for about fifteen years)?

Steve: "It's our turn."

Jarvis: "We've been waiting in queue for a long time."

Steve: "It's like when you go to the Post Office and you want a stamp but you'll wait for everyone else to go."

Jarvis: "We're very polite y'see so we didn't push in."

Nick: "We wouldn't have that."

Jarvis: "So we waited our turn."

Did it get depressing in the meantime? "No," continues Jarvis. "There's always other things to do. If you choose to sit at home thinking, "Why aren't I famous?", then you would be quite a sad character. You can always ride your bike or something."

Did you think you'd be doing it this long when you first started?

"No. I would've been horrified. I always thought pop music was supposed to be quite instant. You didn't hang around for a decade. To be doing it for so long is very strange."

How did Pulp sound when you started?

"Awful."

"It was all feedback," explains Steve.

"Yeah," recalls Jarvis. "It was a noise. Not on purpose, or anything. It was just ineptitude. I started when I was young and we just couldn't play. We still can't play very well but I don't think that matters."

What does matter then?

"It's not what you can play, it's what you can say."

And what are Pulp saying?

"That's put you on the spot," cries Nick gleefully.

"Well, it's not that we've got something to say as in there's a big message for the world. U2 are trying to shake off that image now but before they were always doing the chest beating and coming up with their big slogans. It's not like that. Hopefully it's an accurate reflection of our lives."

In that case Pulp must lead very strange lives. The opening lines of 'Razzmatazz' were, "The trouble with your brother/he's always sleeping with your mother/and I know that your sister's missed her time again this month".

"I don't think they're seedy," states Jarvis. "They're just true to life. I think they're deadpan and down to earth. I don't think they're strange. Razzmatazz is a bit sad. Babies (the single before Razzmatazz... sample lyric: I wanna take you home/I wanna give you children) is just a thing you get up to when you are fourteen and certain things are still still taboo and you get into situations because of curiosity."

What does your mother think about your lyrics?

"I don't think she's bothered. She's not made any detrimental comments. She thinks the songs should be happier. I'd rather her take no notice actually because once I went round there at Christmas and she insisted on playing the record all the time when my relatives were there. It was embarrassing. Everyone comes up and pats you which isn't very good. Also, if you're on TV or radio at your mothers then it's very embarrassing."

"Shouldn't have your hair like that."

"Smile a bit more."

"Why don't you play some happy ones."

To get to know Pulp a little better we decided to ask each member of the band to describe the others. We allotted them one word per person. Below are the results.

Nick: Candida... petite. For Jarvis I'd say dishevelled. Steve is organised and Russ is er... too tough sometimes.

Candida: Nick's loud. Jarvis is temperamental. Steve is organised and Russell is good at business.

Jarvis: For Nick I would say... high. Candida is fluorescent. Steve is clean. Russell... I'd say feedback.

Steve: Nick is too loud. Candida is calm. Jarvis is unique and that's not a compliment. Ha Ha Ha. Russell is manic.

Russell: Nick is Jean Paul. Candida is toys. For Jarvis I'd say praying mantis and Steve I would say is a cigar.

During this game several compliments and disparaging remarks were handed out and taken with apparent ease and false stroppiness in turn. Pulp complimenting each other makes them happy, but what is the nicest thing an outsider could say about them?

"I don't know. I get embarrassed if people are nice to me," says Jarvis whilst Russell lines up the butts of his cigarettes in size order. "l find it hard to accept people being nice. I always think they' re after something."

"You're paranoid," offers Steve as an explanation. "l don't know why it is. It's like when you eat out at a restaurant, not that I do very often, but when I do I don't like the waiters always coming over and supposedly being nice. (Adopts slimey voice.) "Is everything O.K. for you sir?". I find that makes my flesh crawl. I'd rather they just give it to you and then let you eat and talk to whoever you're with."

"The nicest thing someone could do to you is put a plate of food down and walk away?" asks Russell incredulously.

"I don't mean just slap it down. Put it down, then go away. I don't want them hanging around with the violin in your ear. The niceness is a bit like that."

Do you also hate it when people are horrible to you Jarvis?

"Oh yeah. I like general blandness. Ha Ha Ha. If somebody comes up to you and says "You're great", it's nice but it's also..."

"...a conversation killer," finishes Russell.

"It's a northern thing as well," observes Steve. "In Sheffield no one Would ever go up and say, "I think you're great"."

"That's why," confirms Russell, "it's uncool. It's us that's wrong but..."

"The best compliment we get is if someone says we're alright. It's good to know that other people like you but you'd rather hear it second hand," explains Jarvis.

"The first time someone said it to us we thought we'd misheard them," says Nick.

"Do you know who we are?" adds Russell.

"Yeah," continues Nick. "l thought they'd got the wrong band."

You said earlier that you don't like people being mean to you - does criticism upset you?

"Well" says Jarvis with a pained expression, "if somebody writes something like, "He's a tall, lanky streak of piss with no discernible talent. How has he managed to delude himself for so many years?" you can't just go, "Oh, yeah. Fair enough, everybody's entitled to their own opinion"."

"Truth hurts. Ha Ha Ha." comments Steve.

"It's too bad they were right," agrees Russell rubbing more salt into Jarvis's wounds. "We do like people to like us. We're not just doing this for ourselves. We want people to like it."

"But we don't pander," warns Jarvis.

What do you think about the "Crimplene scene" which is the current press play thing? Does it bother you that you've been lumped into that?

"We started it," boasts Steve jokingly.

"I don't think it exists. It's not healthy," complains Jarvis. "No. Crimplene makes you sweat. We'd rather be the British cotton scene."

"It's true," supports Nick. "Avoid Crimplene at all costs."

"I like seventies bands like Denim. Is that the Crimplene scene?" asks Russell.

From what I've read, it's you, Suede, Saint Etienne etc.

"We used to get compared to Marc Almond and World Of Twist so..."

"If I was going to chose a scene to be associated with," remarks Steve, "it would be that one but it's not like we meet at Oxfam on a Saturday afternoon and fight over classic Crimplene. None of us like it."

"I still don't think it exists," says Jarvis persistently.

If there is a scene then Pulp are the leaders of the pack. They might not be the biggest, but they are the best. In terms of sex, glamour and everything that counts they are the only band you need to know. They leave the rest of their ilk in a trail of dust. The songs are gorgeous uplifting affairs with secret tales of suburban life as lyrics. It is pure genius.

"A lot of sexual perverts like us," offers Russell helpfully. "They write us strange letters. Post grunge and post shoe gazing there is a new sort of person on the streets and they like us. People in stripey tops quite like us."

"French people like us," announces Candida.

Do any of you ever get recognised in the streets?

"Yeah," states Jarvis. "I was saying to Russell the other day, that I've always had people taking notice of me in the streets in Sheffield - usually in a bad way. They called me names and things. It does still happen. In fact I nearly had a fight yesterday 'cos this boy decided to push me. But people have started to recognize me and be a bit more friendly now. It's strange 'cos I'm always getting ready to flinch when they come up and then they say something nice and catch me off guard."

What names did they call you?

"Because I've always worn glasses it just used to be someone famous with glasses. Elvis Costello, Buddy Holly. Just anybody who wore glasses. I used to have a beard for a bit and then I was called Rolf Harris all the time. They weren't very imaginative."

Well, those people were obviously mad. Jarvis is, without a doubt, a sex symbol for the nineties along with all the others in the band. At the gig that took place after this interview Jarvis was practically pulled off the stage by adoring females. O.K. - so we know they are attractive, but how sexy out of ten does each member of the band think he/she is?

"We're all going to say ten aren't we?" asks Candida.

"You might, but I wouldn't," retorts Steve.

"I think it changes during the day," decides Nick. "When you get up in the morning you're probably a minus. The later it gets the better it gets. If it's a good day you might peak at two."

"You just about make a two, Steve," jokes Jarvis.

"Anyone who says above seven has problems," says Steve wisely.

"You'd catch them playing with themselves in front of a mirror when you came in here," suggests Jarvis.

"That means you were about a nine in the van today, then, when we set off," says Steve whilst trying to wind up Jarvis.

"Yeah?"

"I didn't think you were a nine, you thought you were."

"Self-masturbation," adds Nick helpfully.

"That's another thing that other people have to decide upon," Jarvis remarks sensibly.

"Obviously it's nice if people do find you that way."

At this point Nick's brother enters the room and Russell starts loudly announcing that "this one goes up to eleven" if you twist the nipple and put a little shilling in the slot. Everyone has hysterics.

But, don't get me wrong, Pulp take what they do incredibly seriously. They are a deadly serious band. I know this because Nick told me four times. They are funny, the music is not. Pulp are also clever, sexy, glamorous, beautiful, talented, strange, normal, erotic, under-famous, unique, sleazy, stylish and every other compliment ever. If you feel the need to check out the high life or if you just need that extra sparkle - look no further than Pulp. They're the most fun you'll ever have.

You can write to Pulp at P.O. Box 87, Sheffield, S6 2YZ and you can become a Pulp person by sending £3 to the same address.

[billhader]

Homebodies

Another Anoush/Louie one-shot smutfest by meeeee and @cristobalsifuentes

Daniel and Amanda take the whole family on an extravagant Hawaiian getaway to celebrate Sam's high school graduation. Begrudgingly, "the whole family" includes Louie. And Anoush, for some reason. And Louie and Anoush have a big secret, which everyone already knows about.

Rating: Explicit (read tags below)

Word count: 12.8k

Relationships: Louie LaRusso Jr./Anoush Norouzi

Characters: Anoush Norouzi, Louie LaRusso Jr, Amanda LaRusso, Daniel LaRusso, Samantha LaRusso, Anthony LaRusso, Lucille LaRusso

Tags: Porn with Feelings, Porn With (a little) Plot, Post-Finale, Established Situationship, Summer Vacation, Sneaking Around, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Fluff and Smut, Dirty Talk, Semi-Public Sex, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Fingerfucking, Anal Sex, Mild Daddy Kink, Self-Indulgent Smut Extravaganza, Love Confessions, Getting Together

Click here to read on AO3, or continue below the break

Disclaimer: The depiction of the LaRussos travelling to Hawai'i ≠ the authors condoning tourists visiting Hawai'i. Rich people gonna rich people.

My love and I always have fun collaborating! Let us know if you enjoy!!

Anoush would be lying if he claimed to be surprised by Daniel and Amanda’s invitation to join the entire family on their trip to O'ahu. In fact, by the time Amanda broached the subject, he’d cleared his schedule for the two weeks in question and hired a housesitter to water his plants. 

The vacation was in the works for almost a year, at least on Amanda’s end. The second she could tear her husband and daughter away from dojo drama, she told Anoush over brunch, they’d all be getting the hell out of the Valley for a little while to “re-center”. It took longer than anyone anticipated for Daniel to loosen his grip on Miyagi-Do and reluctantly allow Johnny to take care of business in his absence, but he finally relented just in time to celebrate Sam’s high school graduation.

Anoush had nothing to do with the LaRussos’ karate affairs, of course. All he did was bring money in, let Amanda vent to him as much as she needed, and keep each dealership location from completely burning to the ground by sending emails. a ton of emails. Outlook hated to see Anoush log on.

Anoush couldn’t take all the credit. With Daniel gone so frequently, Louie had stepped up at work in a way Anoush didn’t know he was capable of.  He had the best figures of any salesman--even better than Anoush, as he bragged every single hour of every single day--and he put in ridiculous amounts of overtime across multiple locations when they were short-staffed. His pride in being part of the family business was finally coming through in his work, and he'd gone from being Anoush’s greatest headache to his most dependable coworker.

This was great, because Anoush and Louie were fucking. If Louie was still acting up at work, it might’ve put a damper on all the fucking. Nobody wanted that, least of all Louie. If Anoush had known years ago that all it took to get Louie to fall in line was to get him off, it would've made life a lot easier.

They were fucking, not dating. The distinction was important, at least to Anoush. Sure, they were at each other’s apartments more often than not, but man oh man that gosh darned LA traffic, the 134 is hellish this time of day/night/whatever. And yes, Anoush hadn’t responded to a single DM on any of his dating apps since the first time Louie came to his apartment with takeout for dinner and didn’t leave for a solid 36 hours--but all of the apps were still on his phone. The fact that he happened to have all their notifications turned off had nothing to do with Louie. He was…trying to reduce his screen time.

So it was all okay. Everything was fine. It wasn’t like they fucked constantly. It tended to happen when either Anoush or Louie was especially stressed out, and needed a form of catharsis that only the other understood.

Work had been extremely stressful the past few months.

Louie was invited to O'ahu despite Amanda’s reservations. There was no denying that he deserved a reward for all his contributions to the dealership. Not to mention that Lucille was coming too, and she could be relied upon to pitch a fit if Louie was excluded. He immediately went out and bought several garish Hawaiian shirts to add to the collection he already had, then insisted on putting on a fashion show when Anoush called him over to spend the night. Anoush held back the natural insults that sprang to mind, cheering Louie on after each reveal with whoops and catcalls..

The following week, Amanda appeared in Anoush’s office doorway and handed him a thick paper packet.

“I can get to it first thing Wednesday,” Anoush muttered, holding out his hand without glancing at the packet.

“You might want to look it over now,” Amanda said, stretching out each vowel with a bewildered upward inflection. “Maybe take it home.”

It was a beautifully detailed O'ahu itinerary. Anoush felt like a jackass as he read it, but he was a very happy jackass indeed.

“This is mandatory, by the way.” Amanda was beaming. “They're all going to run me ragged. If you're not there, I will probably fake my own death on day two.”

If Louie’s persuasive powers contributed to Anoush's invitation, Amanda’s lips were sealed. Louie gave no hint either way. Anoush knew better than to question it. Nobody knew about his and Louie's situation. At least, no one was supposed to know. No one had a reason to know. They weren't dating, after all.

They land in Hawai’i on a Tuesday. The LaRussos rented out a gigantic house about fifteen minutes from the heart of Honolulu, situated atop a gentle hill all its own with unbeatable ocean and mountain views. It has a pool, an outdoor lounge area, a stunning kitchen, and enough bedrooms for everybody. Almost everybody.

Louie sleeps on the pull-out couch in their room the first night because he can physically see the knots in Anoush’s neck & shoulders. Traveling always stresses Anoush out and he barely got any sleep the night before their flight. After eating dinner as a family on the patio and animatedly rehashing their itineraries for an hour straight, Louie flops onto the sofa bed and passes out within minutes. His joints do not treat him kindly in the morning.

By the second night, Anoush has had enough of Louie grunting and making pathetic pinched-up faces all day long at the beach. He insists that Louie sleep in bed with him. Louie promises he’ll be on his best behavior, but Anoush wakes up with Louie’s chest glued to his back anyway before they separate and get ready for the day. Neither of them acknowledge how they woke up, but Louie knows he didn't imagine a half-sleeping Anoush snuggling in closer to his body just after sunrise.

Louie takes Anthony to the beach for boogie-boarding while Anoush joins Amanda and Lucille at a nearby spa for a deep tissue massage and a facial. The spa treatment is divine and helps melt away any and all tension Anoush had been holding in his body the past few days. When they return to the house, he lounges happily on the bed with a book until Louie and Anthony come back from the beach.

“What do you mean, skip dinner?” Anoush asks once Louie finally gets to the point of his rambling after eyeing Anoush up and down about twelve times.

“I mean we skip dinner. Hang out here. I can whip something up when we get hungry,” Louie shrugs. “I don’t think i can stand another minute in the fuckin’ sun today.” 

“Hm, sounds like you came on the wrong trip, then,” Anoush retorts and goes back to his book, not actually reading, but still wanting to give the impression of vague disinterest. Louie rolls his eyes at Anoush’s sass, then inhales as deeply as he can without it being obvious. Anoush smells warm and lovely and faintly of lavender and Louie knows he won’t be able to sit through dinner in public with this man.

“We have a ton of wine downstairs. C’mon, let’s make a night of it.” Louie flops on the bed and nudges Anoush’s knee with his elbow.

“I guess nothing on the menu really stood out to me,” Anoush muses, eyes wandering from the page again. Louie’s looking up at him like a dog waiting for a tennis ball to be thrown. “I'll think about it.”

“Well, think fast,” Louie says. “We’re s’posed to leave in half an hour. You know I’ll make you somethin’ good to eat. And we got pineapple upside down cake for dessert.” 

Anoush smiles despite his weak attempt to seem aloof. “We’re in paradise and you want to sit inside all night and eat.”

“C’mon, you really wanna sit through dinner tonight when we got the boat tour and the stupid luau tomorrow? I just wanna chill and see the sunset from up here.”

Louie’s making good points as if Anoush doesn’t know exactly what’s on his mind. He’s felt Louie’s eyes on him since he came back from the beach, smelling too much like the surf and not enough like sunscreen, and admittedly he wasn’t reading too closely while Louie stripped and showered and dressed. Anoush flips his book face-down on his lap. 

“I don't think you could be subtle if you had a gun to your head,” he quips.

Louie grins like a fool. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.” 

“I didn't come all the way to Hawai’i to shack up with you,” Anoush whispers fervently, as if  anyone else could hear. “I can do that at home.”

“Yeah, you can. Any time,” Louie says with a wink. “But we're here, and we can have the whole place to ourselves…” 

His hand on Anoush’s knee is the kicker.

“Okay, okay. Dinner better be good,” he warns.

Louie immediately rolls off the bed, pumping his fist. “Hell yeah.”

“Go tell Amanda we're staying,” Anoush says, “but act normal.” He can't help but laugh when Louie runs out. His face is hot, like Louie’s deep tan is somehow spreading to him, and Louie's simple touch gave him goosebumps.

Louie’s nearly out of breath when he makes it downstairs, and he huffs a sigh of relief when he sees that the double doors to Amanda & Daniel’s similarly-grandiose, ground-floor bedroom are wide open. He makes a beeline for the room and hears the shower on as he gets closer, then finds Amanda sitting at the vanity near the french doors to the patio and fixing her hair. She's fully dressed and ready to go, opting for a no-makeup night so as not to irritate her skin after the spa day.

“Hey, knock 2 off of the reservation for tonight,” Louie announces the second he enters her periphery.

“Okay,” she says plainly without batting an eye, “Why?” 

“Uhhhhh,” Louie starts. He suddenly thinks too hard about Anoush warning him to be normal and needs a few seconds to shift gears and string a decent sentence together. “We’re not really feelin’ up to goin’ out.” Louie tries a casual shrug. Amanda just turns toward him.

“‘We’ as in…?”

Louie rolls his eyes and drops his shoulders. “What's with the third degree? C’mon. Me and Anoush."

“The third degree,” Amanda scoffs. “You’ve seen me give the third degree. This is not the third degree.”

“Okay, the second degree, then,” Louie reasons. Amanda chuckles sardonically, icily, and goes back to fixing her hair in the mirror. “It’s just- I got too much sun and he’s all relaxed and whatever the fuck from the spa shit. And we have the boat and the luau tomorrow and I need to recover from today, y’know?” Amanda lets Louie’s words linger for far longer than Louie is comfortable with. “Hey, two less meals to pay for, right?”

“Yep, all good,” Amanda agrees with a smile and a nod. “We’ll ‘knock 2 off of the reservation.’” Louie looks around the room, waiting for some sort of snide remark.

“O…kay… That’s it?”

“What else would there be? Go rest up,” Amanda encourages. Louie eyes her carefully, then shrugs again and turns to leave. 

“Louie,” she stops him before he reaches the door. Louie turns around. “Keep it in your bedroom.”

“What do you think-“

“Keep it. In. Your bedroom,” she tells him softly, sternly. 

Louie opens his mouth to protest again, but shuts up at Amanda’s warning glare. He nods and exits the room, but backpedals back into the room after only a few steps. 

“What about the balcony?”

Amanda wrinkles her nose and side eyes him. “Use your best judgment, Louie.”

As Louie scrambles to the kitchen for wine, Daniel pokes his head out of the ensuite bathroom. “Did I hear Louie?”

 “Mhm. He and Anoush are ditching us for dinner,” Amanda reports, giving him a pointed look. “They’re staying in.”

 “Ohhhhh.” Daniel nods slowly, catching her drift. “Well, that’s good, right? Don’t have to worry about Louie behaving himself for one night.”

“If we’re very lucky,” Amanda grumbles.

“And it means your plan’s working,” Daniel points out. “Like you said, Anoush is already family, pretty much. They might as well make it official.”

Amanda cringes - he’s right, she did this to herself.

“The plan might work a little too well,” she says. 

Meanwhile, Louie takes a peek in the fridge to get a feel for what he’ll do for dinner. He texts Anoush, “Sushi bowls or pasta?”

 “You’re prepping dinner already??” Anoush responds.

Louie smirks and shakes his head, grabbing a bottle of white wine he knows Anoush picked himself at the store out of the wine cooler under the counter. Anoush thinks he’s a cool customer, but Louie saw the way Anoush eyed him over the top of his paperback. He saw it when he emerged from the shower, and he saw it when they were talking on the bed. 

“I can start now or come back upstairs” he texts. He's already grabbed two glasses and started walking back upstairs by the time Anoush replies, “Upstairs.”

Anoush knows how he sounds. He just doesn’t really care anymore. He's sitting in the same spot when Louie returns and sets down the bottle and glasses on the nightstand. “Not hungry yet, huh,” he says, more a statement than a question. Anoush shrugs and pats the mattress next to him - Louie’s back in bed in an instant. “That wasn’t the only food, I can make whatever-” 

Anoush is on him so fast his head spins. One second he’s curled up next to Louie, the next he’s straddling him and pushing him down against the pillows, kissing him like he’s angry at him. Louie enthusiastically obliges Anoush until his lungs start to burn with a need for air.

 “They’re still here, you sick fuck,” he teases once he’s managed to catch his breath. His hands find Anoush’s narrow hips, pushing his t-shirt up half an inch and threatening to do something about the waistband of his lounge shorts. Anoush leans back down to kiss him, and Louie’s grip on Anoush tightens instinctively.

“Don’t act like you’ve never put your hand in my pants in your office with Amanda and Daniel on the other side of the door,” Anoush goads, and Louie had forgotten how blunt and bratty Anoush can be whenever they’re able to make any type of noise. Louie chases a kiss and rides his tongue along Anoush’s bottom lip.

“Hey, that was one time,” he protests. He gets a lethal look from Anoush in return. 

“Hey, that was two times.” 

“Can you blame me, though? I mean, look at you.” Louie slides his hand up Anoush’s side, underneath his t-shirt, and he bites his lip at the way Anoush shivers at his touch, goosebumps sprouting once again beneath Louie’s fingertips. “It's hard enough to deal with you back home, but now you went and got all soft and smooth and oily and shit.”

Anoush throws his head back and chuckles, and Louie feels ravenous at the sight of Anoush’s Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “You’re ridiculous,” Anoush chides, but he fixates on Louie’s lips again, grabbing at Louie’s pecs through his t-shirt with one hand and rocking against him to let Louie feel his growing erection. “You said they’re leaving in a half hour?”

“More like 20 minutes now,” Louie nods. “Maybe less. Depends on how hangry Lucille gets in the next few minutes.”

“Okay,” Anoush sighs against his lips. “That can work.”

Louie pulls Anoush down hard against his lap, making sure Anoush knows they’re both in the same boat. He’s pleasantly light-headed from the rush of blood down south and the cloud of lavender and herbal smells that permeates Anoush’s skin, which is just as soft as Louie knew it’d be. Anoush whines into Louie’s mouth, and Louie squeezes his hip in warning. 

“Someone’ll hear,” he murmurs. “You know we’ll never live it down.”

Anoush goes still in his lap and stops kissing him for a moment, pressing his forehead to Louie’s and running a hand through Louie’s freshly washed, ungelled hair. “Sounds like more of a you problem than a we problem.”

Louie’s not strong enough to keep himself from caressing Anoush’s thighs when they’re right there for him to touch, especially whe he knows it makes Anoush kind of feral. His thumbs rub circles into Anoush’s inner thighs, gliding with the assistance of ghostly massage oil remnants. “Yeah, and what if I want it to be a we problem?” 

Anoush opens his eyes, backing up half an inch.

“Are we talking about it?” he asks, breathless voice foreshadowing his fading composure. “Right now?”

“Whenever,” Louie says with a shrug. Neither of them speaks for a moment, and they can hear Amanda arguing with Anthony downstairs over acceptable attire for going out to dinner.

“Okay,” Anoush sighs, settling back on Louie’s legs. “I’ve just been thinking, if we’re really doing this-”

“We've been really doing this for a minute now,” Louie says with a wolfish grin. Anoush rolls his eyes.

“I mean, if we’re labeling it, or just acknowledging it in the first place…there are things we should talk about. I don't want to get wrapped up in something where we’re not on the same page about what we want, where it’s going, future stuff...all of it.”

Louie breathes a little quicker, heart racing ahead of his brain. Just Anoush saying all of that tells him everything he needs to know. He's known, or hoped, for a while now that he wasn’t just imagining the depth of their feelings, that it wasn’t one-sided.

“Yeah, we can talk about anything you need to talk about,” he assures, sitting up straighter so he can bring Anoush close again. “But whatever you say isn’t gonna change my mind about you. I'm not goin’ nowhere ‘til you kick me to the curb. Or throw me off a building - whatever comes first.”

Anoush laughs, trying to keep it quiet, but Louie kisses his neck and it tickles.

“I made up my mind day one,” he murmurs in Anoush’s ear.

“I know,” Anoush admits. “Me too. We should still talk…” 

Louie pulls off Anoush’s shirt and keeps kissing his neck, unable to stay away for very long. Anoush catches a gasp from escaping when Louie nips the column of his throat.

“Maybe later.”

“Later,” Louie echoes.

Anoush's gaze turns toward the open balcony doors. Maybe if he hadn't opened those, he-

"Ohh," he sighs as quietly as he can when teeth dig into the meat of his neck, Louie having taken advantage of Anoush's head being turned to the side. "I don't plan on wearing a turtleneck on the boat tomorrow, Lou," Anoush reprimands him and pushes away from Louie yet again.

Louie looks smug as he runs his hands up Anoush's torso and through his chest hair. "How are you more annoying when you're wearing less clothes?" he muses aloud. "I can barely stand you half the time when you're in those fuckin' three piece suits."

"You love my suits," Anoush protests, teasing the hem of Louie's shirt between thumb and forefinger.

"I don't love the fifteen minutes it takes to get them offa you," Louie shakes his head.

Anoush grins, something small and a little shy, something Louie's still getting used to seeing on Anoush's face. Anoush dips down and kisses Louie again, pinning Louie to the bed by his biceps so he can't even think about doing anything uncouth without Anoush's express permission. Louie could easily overtake Anoush, but he won't. It usually turns into wrestling and half-hearted insults and it would simply be too much commotion with Lucille's nosy bat ears still on the property. So Louie lets Anoush kiss him slowly, lets Anoush tease him by rolling his hips at an agitating pace, lets Anoush drive him fucking crazy on this beautiful island that Louie would give up every opportunity to explore if it means he gets to look at and feel Anoush like this instead.

"Can you be quiet?" Anoush asks against Louie's jaw. Louie's dick twitches when he feels Anoush's fingertips slide beneath the waistband of his shorts.

"I dunno, depends-"

"I'm just gonna check the bathroom for it one last time and then we can go!" They both hear Daniel shout. Louie's eyes roll so far back in his head that it kind of hurts. This is the third time today that he's overheard Daniel freaking out over his missing puka shell necklace. He's not sure he's encountered a more ferocious bonerkill than the sound of his cousin's voice, but then Anoush's hand is on the base of his cock and Louie can't really think about anything at all.

"Can you be quiet?" Anoush repeats against the shell of Louie's ear, "It's a yes or no question, Louie. Just for a few minutes."

“Yeah.” Louie nods quickly, exhaling as slowly as he can. “Can you?”

 Anoush kisses a line from below Louie’s ear, across his jaw to his chin. “I wouldn't worry about it.”

He helps Louie pull his t-shirt over his head and finds his mouth once more for a sloppy kiss. His fingers drag up the length of Louie’s shaft, not committing to anything besides teasing for the moment. They hear people stomping up, down, back up the stairs.

“Whaddaya mean they're not coming?” Lucille exclaims downstairs, and they both snicker.

“I locked our door,” Louie whispers, his voice cracking a little when Anoush kisses his chest.

Anoush has been thinking a lot about this, about him and Louie unraveling each other slowly and completely. It sustained him for days and days in the stressful whirlwind leading up to the trip. Pulling down Louie’s shorts and boxers at once, he feels more relaxed than he did at the spa. When he kisses low on Louie’s stomach, just above where the head of his cock is resting, he knows it's a risk, knows how sensitive Louie is there. Louie lets out a shuddering sigh, not loud, but his chest is almost heaving now as Anoush mouths over his thighs like he doesn't have anything better to do. At home, Louie would tell him to cut it out, maybe pull his hair, guide him none too gently to where his mouth really belongs, which Anoush was more than happy with…but having Louie totally helpless in this way is even better..

Anoush makes his way down to Louie’s tan line at mid-thigh, then even further to kiss the slight pinkness above Louie’s knee where he forgot to reapply sunscreen earlier.  Anoush looks up at Louie from his spot between his legs, and Louie swallows and tenses his jaw, clearly itching to make a smart comment but dedicated to his agreement with Anoush.

Anoush’s eyes drop to Louie’s cock, where he can see a healthy bead of precum threatening to dribble down Louie’s foreskin. he looks at Louie, whose eyes haven’t left Anoush’s face for who knows how long, and finds himself chasing the clean, salty taste of Louie’s skin as he mouths his way back up Louie’s thigh.

God, what are we?

Anoush takes one of Louie’s balls into his mouth before he can dwell too long on his own internal monologue. Louie’s fingers curl clumsily into the fresh, white comforter as he tries to find an outlet for his urge to grab hold of Anoush’s hair. He knows how that would end - Anoush would immediately moan, then Louie would say something politely filthy and pull his hair harder, and they’d get sent home from the trip early by their boss. Instead, Louie watches helplessly as Anoush licks up his shaft and envelops the tip of his cock in his mouth. The engine of the van kicks on outside, and Louie can’t hide his sigh of relief.

Anoush digs his fingers into the meat of Louie's thigh, silently warning him--not yet. Whether he really thinks someone can still hear them or he just wants to make Louie suffer, Louie plays along for as long as he can. Anoush is both lazy and relentless, teasing his tongue over the thick, swollen head of Louie's cock, backing off and blowing air over the sensitive tip, wetly kissing his way up the underside…and car doors slam, and the hum of the engine fades. At the same time, Anoush takes Louie halfway down his throat.

“Fuuuck,” Louie groans, head snapping back against the pillow - his hips buck slightly from the shock, but Anoush is ready for it, backing off him for a moment. He grasps the base of Louie's cock, steady but not too firm. His other hand holds onto Louie’s thigh, keeping him in place with his leg bent slightly outward as he takes his length in his mouth again. Louie regains his composure enough to look down at Anoush, only to meet his pretty dark eyes through his lashes and see a drop of his spit slide down his exposed shaft.

“You're fuckin’ unreal,” Louie manages to say, and Anoush’s only response is to bob his head lower, take him deeper. He’ll never really get used to the slight ache in his jaw when he sucks Louie’s cock, but he certainly doesn't mind it. Louie's hand lands heavily on the back of Anoush's head, but he doesn't pull his hair. He doesn't try to take any control or set the pace. He's just reaching desperately, trying not to lose himself in the warmth and the drag of his tongue and the relief of finally having Anoush all to himself.

Anoush can't think too hard about the way his entire body tingles with Louie’s hand on him, with Louie panting and gasping out swears and his legs faintly trembling.

Louie momentarily considers stopping Anoush, pushing him off of his cock and teasing his spit-slick lower lip with his thumb so this can last a little longer. But it’s been days since Louie’s last orgasm and he wants Anoush so badly that he figures he can go twice if that’s what Anoush wants, if just for this evening. Louie’s getting older; he finds himself waking up with random pain in his back or legs or neck more often than not. But Anoush and his tight body and stupid curls and the way he sounds when Louie touches him in ways that no one else gets to has Louie’s libido firing on all cylinders as if he’s 20 again.

“Fuck, baby,” Louie groans and gently scratches at Anoush’s scalp, “You better be careful.”

Anoush hums and narrows his eyes at Louie, and Louie throws his head back again when he realizes Anoush has no intention of heeding his warning. Louie cums with a long, loud groan, abs tensing as he curls himself minutely toward Anoush’s head. Anoush takes most of Louie’s release in his mouth, then pulls off of his dick and lets the rest land on Louie’s stomach as he strokes him through his orgasm.

“Jesus fuckin’- fuck!” Louie shudders, happy to take advantage of the now-empty house. Anoush merely grins and kisses all around Louie’s groin and thighs once more. Louie caresses Anoush’s jaw. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Anoush this relaxed, this serene. Especially given that Anoush is most certainly hard as a rock in his little shorts.

“C’mere.” Louie feels almost drunk as he grabs Anoush and pulls him back on top of him properly. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss Anoush, having gotten over his aversion to tasting himself rather quickly once they started fooling around. Louie grips Anoush’s ass in both hands as if it’s going anywhere and exhales through his nose when Anoush breaks their kiss with a moan against the corner of Louie’s mouth. 

“Come on, you can be louder than that, baby. I know you can.”

“What if they come back right now?” Anoush whispers, voice hoarse and in need of a drink of water (or, preferably, white wine). “What if they forgot something?”

Louie snickers and sighs, adrenaline still coursing through him. “We'd hear ‘em comin’ up the driveway,” Louie reasons. Anoush nods against Louie’s forehead in surrender. Louie’s right. “Or they’d hear you cumming from the driveway. One of the two.”

“I'm not the reason my neighbors complained,” Anoush reminds him, kissing him gently before biting his bottom lip, just shy of hard enough to bleed.

“Still your fault, though,” Louie challenges. He slips both hands under the waist of Anoush’s shorts, grabbing at his bare ass, smirking when Anoush shamelessly arches into his touch and gasps sharply. “After you fuckin’ teased me in that god-awful stadium traffic all the way back to your fuckin’ place…I coulda killed you.”

“You almost did,” Anoush says, laughing and shivering as Louie tugs his shorts down under his ass. “It's kinda tough getting out of bed after that.”

Louie kneads and squeezes, daring to tease a middle finger between his cheeks just to get him squirming a little more. “That’s the first time I knew for sure how fuckin’ dirty you are, baby.”

Anoush whines from the back of his throat, and Louie’s fed up with him and all his restraint and self-denial. He reluctantly pushes Anoush off to the side to yank his shorts completely down his legs; Anoush comes back to him like a boomerang and stuffs a couple of extra pillows behind Louie for him to sit back on. They end up like this a lot, although Anoush loves nothing more than being pinned down by Louie’s mass. This is just the best position for Louie to touch Anoush however he wants to. Anoush kisses his neck when he leans to the side to grab lube from the nightstand drawer.

“How'd that get over here?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know. Louie shrugs.

“It mighta snuck over with me last night.”

“After I said all we were going to do was sleep?” Anoush is smiling against his skin.

“Sometimes you change your mind,” Louie defends. “I didn't try nothin’, did I?” he pops open the lube, and the cap accidentally spurts a copious amount into his hand - too much, really, but that was fine.

“Mhm,” Anoush hums. “Right. So your dick up against my leg when I woke up was an accident.”

“It was at first,” Louie admits, and Anoush’s neck flushes a deeper and more noticeable pink. Reaching behind Anoush, he pulls at the swell of his ass cheek and slips his other hand between, coating his rim with the excess lube.

“Oh shit…” Anoush shudders, wrapping an arm around Louie’s neck, kissing him as he bears back on his probing fingers. Louie’s erection hasn't even fully gone down, and he can already feel it returning. Nothing gets him going like the way Anoush’s body reacts under his hands.

“I think I didn't see what you wore to bed?” Louie says, voice low, almost a growl. “Think I didn't notice when I got your shorts off and you didn't even bother to put on underwear? You're so fuckin’ easy for me.”

“Fuck you,” Anoush manages to gasp as Louie’s finger breaches his hole, working open both tight rings of muscle without much regard for comfort or pain because he knows Anoush likes it all. Between them, Anoush's neglected cock is straining and dripping, smearing on Louie’s stomach. He's breathing loud, moaning with each movement of Louie’s finger inside him, rocking his hips weakly. Louie can tell it won't take much to finish him off. Once he presses another finger inside Anoush and gets the “Oh fuck, Louie” he was waiting for, he whispers fiercely in Anoush’s ear.

“Be good and I'll take you out on the balcony.”

If he were of sounder (or, to Louie, whinier) mind, Anoush would protest. He’d tell Louie it’s too risky, that even though they’re a quarter mile from the main road and none of the neighboring villas have a direct view of their balcony, it’s indecent and dangerous. If he weren’t stuffed full of Louie’s long, sturdy fingers. If he weren’t panting and whimpering at the feeling of Louie’s lips and teeth on his jaw. If he didn’t feel so safe with Louie, so taken care of in a way that would send the version of him who barely knew Louie and trained him at the dealership into shock.

“I will be,” Anoush sighs, then his entire body tenses and he makes an almost pained sound when Louie curls his fingers just right, in the spot that he immediately became intimately familiar with the first time Anoush trusted him enough to do this. 

“I know you will, baby,” Louie coos, fueling Anoush’s further spiral into brainlessness. “Otherwise you won’t get my cock. You want my cock, don’t you, cuore?”

Anoush has heard Louie call him that a few times, but always forgets about it by the time they’re done and never looks it up. It might be endearing, it might be dirty, but either way, Anoush feels like he’s on fire. Anoush nods wordlessly. As much as he enjoys the occasions where he takes control and leaves Louie dumbstruck and near speechless on the mattress, he certainly doesn’t mind being used as Louie’s sunkissed, oiled-up fuck toy right about now. Louie’s the only one who can help him relieve that last, lingering itch, that last little semblance of tension in his body that a massage and facial simply couldn’t take care of. Louie suddenly uses his other hand to wrap his fingers around Anoush’s shiny, leaking cock and Anoush stops writhing.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum if you do that,” Anoush rushes out. He’s not telling Louie to stop, just warning him. He wants Louie to make the decision for him, wants to cum when Louie decides that it’s okay.

“I know,” Louie growls against Anoush’s throat, “You’re gonna pop for me, huh? Just like that?”

Anoush whines again and nods, beginning to thrust into Louie’s fist and back against his fingers, which now fuck in and out of Anoush with purpose.

“God, you’re so desperate for it. Such a good fuckin’ slut, Anoush.”

He knows what he’s doing. He knows that’s it for Anoush. Anoush’s hips snap forward so harshly that Louie’s fingers slip out and Anoush cums in spurts over Louie’s chest and stomach, head tipped back as he moans wildly, noises tapering off into something that sounds vaguely like Louie’s name. Louie watches Anoush in awe, panting like he just felt his orgasm too.

His heart’s pounding because he doesn't understand how it gets better and hotter and more overwhelming every time they hook up. At first he figured the excitement of fucking Anoush stemmed from it being on the down-low, the weird feeling that they were doing something wrong that they couldn't talk about, but gradually Louie’s realized nobody, not even his mildly toxic and invasive and lapsed-Catholic family, would give a shit if they knew he and Anoush were together (if they really were together…he wanted to circle back to that someday, whenever they can stop making each other cum when they're alone together for more than a few minutes). The guilt doesn't come from anywhere but inside him, a part of him that he understands all too well but does his best not to dwell on.

Everything is bliss when he smooths his hand in circles on Anoush's back, partially supporting his weight on his shoulder. Anoush is still trying to catch his breath when Louie’s free hand finds his spent cock again, rubbing the tip with his thumb.

“Fuck!” Anoush’s legs tremble and his hips stutter without rhythm, and he grabs Louie’s biceps to keep himself somewhat upright as he involuntarily curls inward. Louie likes how his moans start to turn into sobs when he’s overstimulated, and each time he’s done this and asked if he should stop, Anoush refuses, practically demands more.so Louie strokes and teases him until he's boneless against Louie, shaking and crying out “I can't, fuck, I can't…” Only then does Louie give him a break. He rolls them to the other side of the bed, Anoush flat on the mattress and panting. Louie wants him to rest, but has no plan to do the same. He works his way down to Anoush’s stomach, cleaning him up with his tongue until he hears Anoush whine his name again.

“How you doin’, honey?” he murmurs, kissing a quick and light trail back to his mouth. Anoush pulls him down to kiss him harder, hands raking through Louie’s hair. He's a little surprised that Anoush isn't catatonic after everything. they're both tapping into rare wells of stamina, bolstered by the sense that something about this time was different.

“Good,” Anoush breathes. “Need you…”

“Already?”

It isn't that Louie isn't ready to go, or that he thinks Anoush can't handle it. he just doesn't want to rush anything, doesn't really want it to be over. but Anoush kisses him so harshly that an edge re-emerges--the impatient, bratty energy that delights Louie to no end.

“Fuck me.”

Louie laughs, rough and ragged, against Anoush’s throat, which only makes Anoush squirm more. “Remember that one time,” Louie murmurs, “like, the second time I spent the night. You tried to tell me you were 50/50?” 

Anoush props himself up on one elbow and grabs Louie by the back of the neck with the other hand. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Anoush asks. 

Louie’s grin widens. “Giving and receiving,” he clarifies, gaze darting between Anoush’s lips and chest and eyes.

Anoush blushes furiously and reaches for the last vestiges of snark in his brain. “I definitely just gave you something that made you cum,” Anoush reasons, but Louie snorts and shakes his head. He bites his lip and leans in to nip at Anoush’s earlobe.

“You'd let me spread your legs any day of the week, baby, I know you,” he whispers. “Any time, any place.” Anoush starts to feel lightheaded, licks his lips and tilts his head when he feels Louie kiss his neck again. “As long as I look at you the right way, or say something dirty in your ear. Huh?”

“Y-yeah,” Anoush doesn’t mean to stutter, but it happens anyway, and he wraps his legs around Louie’s waist when he feels Louie’s hand slide beneath the small of his back.

“Yeah?” Louie asks against his cheek. 

“Yes, daddy,” Anoush says breathlessly, and Louie has both of them up and off the bed in what feels like the blink of an eye.

“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought,” Louie murmurs as Anoush clings to him for dear life. Louie inhales deeply, taking in the faint smell of Anoush’s sweat still primarily masked by the perfumed scents of the spa. “Did you open these doors earlier just to fuck with me?”

Anoush would laugh at that if he weren’t so overwhelmed by the feeling of his oversensitive cock sandwiched between his and Louie’s stomachs. “I thought the breeze would be nice,” he weakly responds.

“God, it’s fuckin’ beautiful out here,” Louie muses as he steps out onto the balcony. He sets Anoush down but keeps an arm around him for stability that he knows Anoush needs right now. As something of a pillow princess, Anoush isn’t too accustomed to getting fucked standing up, except for the one or two or four times in the shower. Louie’s eyes rake up and down Anoush’s body again. Anoush looks smaller out here somehow. Shyer. Pinker. He keeps one hand cupped over his crotch as if his soft dick is news to Louie. Louie bends his knees and draws Anoush onto his toes to kiss him slowly, wetly.

“Turn around for me, lemme see you.”

Anoush does as he’s told and braces himself with both hands on the balcony railing, leaving his dick fully exposed to the elements. He shivers when he feels Louie’s hand teasing his inner thighs, nudging to spread them a little wider.

The view of Anoush posed like this against the backdrop of their incredible surroundings is utterly surreal for Louie. The setting sun is still warm, catching on the sheen of sweat that’s coated the small of his back, and his curls catch the gentle breeze. Louie drops kisses along the length of Anoush’s spine, ending at the nape of his neck, and notices the wobble in his arms.

“So goddamn gorgeous for me, caro mio,” he says softly. “This how you want me?”

Anoush turns to kiss him. “Any time, any place…like you said.”

Louie grabs him by the hair to kiss him rougher, making him moan, but quickly lets go to get in position again. He doesn't like to keep Anoush waiting once he gets demanding and bossy, and he was very clear about wanting to be fucked.

Louie's covered a lot of ground when it comes to sex, but he finds himself glancing around and below them to be sure they're truly alone--this feels bold and risky, even to him. Unfortunately, rather than this deterring him from railing Anoush out in the open, it makes his dick throb. He's liberal and fast with the lube, dropping the bottle on the ground, and goes right back to being handsy, grabbing Anoush’s ass hard, his cock rutting between his cheeks. 

“Come on,” Anoush whimpers, and Louie instantly gives him what he wants, unable to hold back any longer. Anoush's knees threaten to buckle as Louie drives his cock inside him, letting him have enough of his length at once to overwhelm him completely, holding him in place by his hips because he can, because Anoush is his. He's soft, he's so warm, he's so fucking tight, and he's Louie's, at least for now.

The groan Anoush lets out is involuntary, wordless, fractured and wrecked. Each of Louie's short thrusts prolongs and renews his broken noises. 

“Fuck, Anoush,” he spits through gritted teeth--he's sunk inside Anoush completely already and he can barely remember his own name. Anoush finds his voice long enough to beg like he isn't already stuffed with Louie’s thick cock.

“Please, ohh fuck, move, Louie…fuck me, it's so much, fuck me…”

His babbling dissolves into strained gasps and sobs once more as Louie fucks into him with real force. Louie can barely think, but he reaches around to feel that Anoush’s dick is already starting to stiffen up again.

“Like this?” he taunts, grabbing Anoush’s shoulder to compel him to arch his back, to push back onto Louie's cock himself. He wishes he could kiss Anoush through this, face him when he cums again, but he can't ask for too much when the man bent over for him taking his cock like he was made for it is so beautiful.

Anoush bounces on Louie’s cock just like Louie nonverbally asked him to, and Louie leans back and watches Anoush at work. Louie thinks it might be a little evil making Anoush do this when he just had one of the strongest orgasms Louie’s ever pulled out of him, but then Anoush looks over his shoulder and bats his ridiculously long eyelashes at Louie, mouth slightly agape. Louie shakes his head, bites the inside of his cheek, and delivers a sharp smack to the side of Anoush’s ass.

“Oh, fuck, daddy,” Anoush moans and finds himself unable to look back at Louie any longer, hanging his head between his arms still braced on the railing.

“That’s it, baby, take it,” Louie purrs, “Take as much of daddy’s cock as you want, there you go.” Louie finds himself transfixed as Anoush starts putting on more of a show, canting forward until Louie’s cock threatens to slip out of him, then bearing back to take the entire length in one movement and repeating. “You can’t get enough, can you?”

Anoush just shakes his head in response. Louie starts snapping his hips forward minutely again to meet Anoush every time he bounces back on it. 

Louie knew Anoush was a minx ever since they went to that stupid fucking Dodgers game together, but the rougher stuff is rather new. It happened by accident, really, with Anoush so far gone that Louie’s hand around the back of his neck pulled an unexpected “Please, daddy” out of him. Anoush immediately wanted to die of embarrassment and felt like his dick might actually invert inside of his body, but then Louie came not ten seconds later.

Louie grabs hold of Anoush’s shoulders with both hands and thrusts rhythmically, grinning when Anoush’s pants and whines turn into a long, slack-jawed moan that spikes in octave every time Louie’s pelvis meets Anoush’s ass. Louie lets go of Anoush’s left shoulder and grabs and pulls his hair instead.

“You know how fuckin’ gorgeous you look right now?” Louie asks, as if Anoush is in any state to properly answer.

“Louie, Louie, fuck, Louie,” Anoush whimpers, louder now than he was when Louie first brought him outside. Anoush braces his full weight on the railing and lets Louie pick up the slack again. A faraway part of Anoush’s brain is still scandalized that he let Louie rope him into this, but then Louie adjusts his angle and pulls out enough to grind the head of his cock directly against Anoush’s prostate. “Ahhhh-ah-ah-”

“Can’t cum yet, baby,” Louie whispers against Anoush’s shoulder blade as he folds himself over so his chest is nearly flush with Anoush’s back. He hooks an arm around Anoush’s torso and splays his hand against his lower belly, the other hand still tugging on Anoush’s rich curls. 

“Please,” Anoush begs, “Please, Louie, Louie, god…I’m so close…” he trails off and Louie feels Anoush’s body tense as he focuses on staving off his orgasm. Anoush's legs are barely functional. He thinks the climax that's building with each punching stroke against his prostate might actually kill him, but there are way worse ways to go than via debilitating orgasm with a partial ocean view at sunset. Whenever Louie bends him over like this, he can't believe how full he feels. With his body pressed to Anoush’s, his cock drags deep inside him like he can't bury himself deep enough.

Anoush always knows when Louie’s about to cum because Louie’s instinct is to draw himself in closer to Anoush, to have as much skin against skin as possible. Anoush is obsessed with the smallest details of the way they have sex, the way Louie never seems to be completely finished with touching him. He's always satisfied, but he’ll always take more if Anoush offers. Anoush wants to give Louie everything he has until there's nothing left of him.

He turns his head to try and kiss Louie, but they're both too far gone to do anything but pant into each other's mouths. Louie is still stunned that Anoush even allowed this to happen. He can't believe what a lucky, unworthy bastard he is to have Anoush all to himself.

Anoush presses his ass against Louie and whimpers “Cum inside me, daddy,” and Louie loses it instantly. His hips snap uncontrollably as he comes for the second time, moaning “fuuuuuck” loud enough for half the island to hear. He grabs Anoush tight, his hand presses sharply against Anoush's lower belly--

And Anoush doesn't know what happens next. He can't comprehend it. It must be the combination of the sudden push on his abdomen with the continued pressure on his prostate, and just maybe the warm sensation of Louie's perfect cock filling him with his cum, but he can't hold off his own climax anymore. it doesn't seem to matter to his body that Louie’s hand isn't anywhere near his dick.

As he cums again, his overtaxed release dripping weakly on the concrete, he hears the hoarse and wrecked wail that must be coming from him, but he doesn't recognize the sound. He does recognize Louie’s voice, rasping “No fuckin’ way…there's no fuckin’ way.” Anoush’s grip on the railing slips, his knees give out, but Louie’s still holding onto him so he doesn't go anywhere.

Louie's reeling, utterly exhausted, but Anoush needs taking care of and he always manages to find the energy to do that. He groans as he eases his cock out of Anoush, then turns him to pick him back up and carry him the few steps back inside to the rumpled bed.

“No way you just did that, honey,” he murmurs, setting Anoush down on his back again with great care. Anoush still can't speak; his head lolls back on the mattress, chest heaving. Louie crawls over him and kisses his exposed throat, where marks he sort of tried to avoid leaving earlier are making themselves known. “I can't fuckin’ believe you're real sometimes.”

Louie settles for giving Anoush a modicum of space and lies on his side next to him. Anoush’s stomach tenses when Louie puts his hand on it again, but when Louie goes to retract his hand, Anoush places his own over it and keeps it there. Louie breathes a sigh of relief and grins at Anoush.

“Thought i lost you there for a second,” he jokes, nosing at and kissing Anoush’s shoulder. Anoush takes a few steadying breaths. He trembles slightly under Louie’s touch. “Are you cold?”

“No,” Anoush answers softly, “I mean, a little, but no. Just- you… yeah.”

The puffs of Louie’s gentle laughter on Anoush’s neck and shoulder tickle, but Anoush can’t be bothered to react. “Jeez, I really did break you,” Louie remarks.

“Easy,” Anoush responds in an attempt to curb Louie’s smugness. It's an impossible feat and he knows it.

“Only ‘cause you kinda wanted to be broken, I think,” Louie qualifies.

Anoush doesn’t respond, just closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing. Louie lies with him in silence, but doesn’t take his eyes off of Anoush, his eyelashes, his nose, his pouty lips that are still slightly swollen, his clean-shaven jaw, his throat and collarbone that bear the marks of Louie’s desire. When Anoush’s eyes finally flutter open, he catches Louie staring. Louie laughs it off, but Anoush doesn't. He wishes more than anything that he had the energy to roll onto his side or even on top of Louie to kiss him again.

“You’re cute,” Anoush says simply, eyeing Louie as if he’s regarding him for the very first time in his life.

Louie snorts. “Yeah, I didn't think you let me do all that just ‘cause I'm funny.”

“You’re not that funny,” Anoush deadpans.

Louie sighs and rubs up and down Anoush’s chest and belly with Anoush’s hand still resting limply on top of his own. “Can I go get you a towel to clean up a little?” 

“Mm, no,” Anoush shakes his head. Louie’s fine with that. “Can you draw me a bath, though?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Louie murmurs against Anoush’s arm, “You want your wine? It’s not as cold now, but-“

“Oh fuck, I forgot about the wine. Yes. Yes, please.”

Louie starts the slow procession of getting up, but leans in to steal a few kisses from a sleepy, glowing Anoush. “And I'll cook you dinner while you soak.”

Anoush hums, content, as his senses slowly return to normal. “And then we can talk?”

Louie gets off the bed, but makes no effort to clothe himself yet. Anoush wishes he didn’t look like that. a lot of things would be a lot easier if Louie didn’t look like that, all broad and shameless and soft but toned in all the right places.

“Yeah, then we can talk,” Louie affirms. He gives Anoush’s body an embarrassingly thorough once-over, bites his lip, then retreats to the bathroom. “Be right back.”

Once he's alone in the bathroom, Louie has to lean on the counter for a minute. He was already tired from boogie boarding before he knew he’d be getting another intense workout, but despite his soreness he feels weirdly alert and clear-headed. He splashes water on his face and absently cleans himself off with a cloth while Anoush’s bath is filling up, and he probably used a little too much bubble bath because the suds start to grow over the ledge, but he doubts Anoush will care in his current state.

If they had more time before the rest of the LaRussos inevitably returned from dinner and shopping and whatever else Daniel and Lucille decided to subject everyone to, Louie would get into the nice deep bath with Anoush, clean him thoroughly and kiss the freckles on his back some more. Next vacation they go on, they'll go alone, and Louie will probably bring along a long list of everything he wants to do with, and to, Anoush.

He returns to Anoush’s side, lifts him one more time to bring him to the warm bath, then doubles back for the wine. He pours a heavy glass, then sets the bottle and glass within Anoush’s reach on the ledge.

“Thanks,” Anoush mutters, eyes closed as he sinks deep under the bubbles.

“Don't fall asleep,” Louie warns, “I dunno CPR.” 

Anoush finds that funnier than he likely would if he were more lucid, more guarded like he normally is around everyone but Louie. “So comforting,” he laughs, “as usual.” 

“You ever decide what you wanna eat?” Louie asks, and Anoush looks at him incredulously.

“When exactly would I have had time to think about that?”

“I dunno, sometime between blowin�� me and cumming all over me,” Louie says with a terrible grin. Anoush looks scandalized, like Louie’s words are news to him and his capacity for vulgarity is still a surprise after all this time, and he splashes him over the ledge.

“Get out. Ugh. I don't care, surprise me.”

Louie laughs and shakes his head. “Want me to come get you when it's ready?”

“Mm-mm. I'll come down.”

Louie leaves Anoush alone with his wine, throws on new shorts and a comfy workout tank top, and makes his way down to the kitchen. he’s half-worried that his family returned without either of them hearing, that they’d all be waiting for him with traumatized stares intervention-style on the giant sectional, but downstairs is still empty and quiet.

Once he gets the kitchen cleaned up a little he settles on making baked ziti and garlic bread--Anoush will take a while in the bath, and whatever's left over the rest of the family can heat up at some point. He makes quick work of the prep and mixes himself a martini to ease his nerves, which only started being a problem the second Anoush said “and then we can talk.”

He knows they need to talk, wants to talk just as badly as Anoush does, but the more he considers what he's meant to say the more his stomach crumples in on itself like a piece of paper that's been folded too many times. the sauce he's making smells great as always, but for once in his life he’s not very hungry because now he’s thinking that somehow he's been wrong about everything for weeks and months and he’s a fucking idiot. He’s rational enough to know that's not the case, not this time, but that doesn't make the nausea go away.

It doesn't help that he knows exactly what he wants to say, if he’s being honest, but being honest hasn't always worked out well for him.

By the time Anoush pads downstairs in his softest, oldest shirt and a pair of sweatpants that haunts Louie’s dreams because of how they hug his ass, the ziti has just gone in the oven and Louie's wiping the counter.

“How the fuck does tomato stain granite?” he muses, not realizing how close Anoush is until he's at his side, inspecting the stain. 

“That was there when we got here,” he replies, setting down his wine glass and slipping his arm around Louie’s waist. “The varnish is stripped in that spot.”

Louie welcomes the closeness like it's second nature, because it is now, and leans down to kiss him. This part, the casual kisses and touches outside of the bedroom, is still rather new for them, and Louie’s pulse picks up every time.

“Good bath?” he asks, and Anoush nods. 

“Perfect. Very needed.”

He smells really, really good again, like orange and mint this time. Louie kisses him, Anoush tugs on his chain to tease him and bring him closer, and somehow he ends up pressed against the clean counter by Louie.

“Hey,” Anoush protests, playfully shoving him off in contrast to his stern, determined expression zeroed in on Louie. “Talking.”

“I know, talking,” Louie nods before stealing one more kiss. “We can talk and do this at the same time.”

Sighing, Anoush slips out of his embrace and picks up both his and Louie's glasses, making his way over to the sectional. “Come on.”

Anoush sets Louie’s half-full martini glass down on the egregiously large coffee table in the middle of the living room, but keeps his wine glass in hand as he takes a seat in the corner spot of the couch. Louie leaves one cushion of space between them when he sits down - he leaves his drink on the table for now. Louie relaxes his arms over the back of the couch and turns his head to face Anoush. 

“What’s up?” Louie asks as if he doesn’t know pretty much exactly what they’re going to talk about. He's never been good at this. He's never been good at this because most people have never cared about him enough to do this with him, regardless of the outcome. People often don’t want to talk with Louie - they want to talk at him. He supposes he’s guilty of that here and there himself, but Anoush’s insistence on talking is as much reassuring as it is daunting.

Anoush looks at him blankly, worrying the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth in slight annoyance. “I told you. before we-“

“Before we fucked like rabbits,” Louie supplies the rest of the sentence with a sinister grin, and Anoush sighs into the rim of his glass before taking a sip.

“Yeah. That,” Anoush acquiesces. “I guess I'm just curious… what do you want?”

“What do you mean, what do I want? I want all of it,” Louie shrugs easily. too easily.

“Okay. And what does ‘all of it’ mean to you?” Anoush asks.

Louie picks up his martini glass, takes a sip, swishes it around in his mouth, then swallows. “You want a five paragraph essay or what?” Louie teases, but straightens up when he sees Anoush’s unwavering expression. “I want all of it. All the typical relationship stuff. The sex, the dating, the PDA, the plus-one shit. I want that with you.” 

Anoush can’t fight off a small smile, even as he tries to maintain a cool front in the face of Louie’s more flippant approach to the conversation. he had figured that was the page Louie was on, but he knows he had a right to be nervous when all (well, most) of their flirting and touching and sweet-talking has been behind closed doors (car doors included).

“And that’s not just Hawai’i talking?”

“No, that’s not just Hawai’i talking,” Louie answers, looking Anoush directly in the eye. Anoush draws in a big breath and matches Louie’s intense, crystalline eye contact. “I told you earlier. From day one. I mean it. The first time I kissed you…”

“Yeah?” Anoush speaks in his smallest, softest voice. 

Louie shakes his head. “There's nobody like you. And I know you wanna play bad cop right now, and I know you want this to be difficult like it is in the movies, but how I feel about you is so fuckin’ easy. Don’t get me wrong: it’s scary. You scare the shit out of me, Anoush.” 

Anoush is kept from tearing up only by the smell of homemade baked ziti, which makes his stomach rumble. 

“You scare me, too,” Anoush admits with a breathless laugh. “I just- it’s easy to say you want a relationship when you’re only picturing the good stuff, you know? It’s…a whole other thing when it gets difficult. and when you have to make big decisions.”

Louie reaches for his hand on the back of the couch and laces their fingers together. He nods in understanding. 

“ ‘Kay. Well. I wanna fight with you. I want to tell you you’re wrong so you can tell me I’m wrong for these 18 different reasons that you’ve printed on an alphabetized list. And then I want to make up with you and tell you I love you.” Anoush’s clammy hand squeezes Louie’s suddenly, instinctively, like Anoush is free falling and Louie is the only thing to hold onto. “And I wanna do that as many times as you’ll let me,” Louie finishes.

The thing is, Anoush has dreamed of this exact moment. Not just with Louie, but for as long as he can remember. He's tried so hard to accept and embrace isolation as a fact of life. He's an only child, so he figured at some point he would just get over the empty feeling that had followed him around for as long as he can remember. But even among a group of people who love him and care for him, he’d still notice the empty pangs.

For years, he'd sought out companionship in increasingly varied and desperate forms, lying to himself every time he sent an intro message to a beautiful woman, and every time he went home with them. At some point, he reasoned, he would find a girl, and they would tolerate each other enough to settle and finally make his parents happy with grandchildren and the whole nine yards. Still, he never could never quite give up the fantasy of the mythical man who would lay it all on the line for him, who would never be embarrassed to make his love known, whose feelings for Anoush ran so deep and fierce that Anoush would never be empty again.

And since spring, when the dealership had been dead quiet all day, when Anoush and Louie had first taken out their boredom and frustration on each other behind a locked office door, the emptiness was just gone.

He wants to tell Louie all of this, but apparently the comprehensive speech and verbal contract he finalized in the bath washed away with the bubbles. What comes out of his mouth instead is “You want to fight me forever?” 

Louie blinks, then starts laughing. “Yeah, basically.” He shuffles closer - a gap between them never lasts for long, Anoush has noticed. “We've had that part down for years, baby.”

Anoush laughs too, and the tear he's been holding back finally falls. Louie's right there to wipe it away. “Why didn't we do the rest years ago?” Anoush asks gently. “Why now?” he stretches out, draping his legs over Louie’s lap. What’s done is done, he's not going to torture himself or Louie over lost opportunities, but he's curious. 

Louie shrugs, running his hand up and down Anoush's leg. “Brain problems,” he says after a pause. “You and me, we both got fuckin’ brain problems.”

Anoush nods. “Clearly.”

“Didn't even know you were into dudes for the first year,” Louie says, and after a withering look from Anoush he adds, “Not officially.”

“Hm. yet you were constantly hitting on me,” Anoush remarks, giggling to himself when Louie blushes.

“if we're gonna start in on the accusations,” he says, “How ‘bout Narek’s retirement party?”

Anoush gasps, smacking Louie’s arm. “You promised we’d never bring it up again!”

Louie returns the slap on Anoush’s leg, and when Anoush retaliates and starts raining down blows, Louie laughs and hauls him fully onto his lap and holds back his onslaught without much effort. They're both laughing now, Anoush exhilarated and breathless. Louie kisses his cheek, his forehead, his jaw, his lips.

“Bottom line,” he says, “I’m just fuckin’ tired of clocking out and goin’ home without you. It don't make any sense.” 

Anoush hums assent and kisses Louie again. He knows exactly what he means. When one of them spends the night--or a couple of nights--they fall into a domestic rhythm so easily. He's glad he doesn't need to be afraid of that anymore.

“I love you too,” Anoush murmurs between kisses, and he can feel Louie's giddy smile against his own. The windows are open, it's breezy in the living room and the sun is gone. It's just the two of them and a couple of frogs in the yard. Louie kisses Anoush slowly, squeezing his thigh.

“Hey,” he whispers. “After we eat, I think we should head back up…”

“You're delusional,” Anoush says, chuckling like the thought hadn't crossed his mind too--maybe they’ve both lost their minds--and as soon as he says it, there's a commotion from the foyer.

“It's not funny, Anthony!!” Sam shouts. “You know I'm allergic!”

“Why the hell would you come to Hawai’i if you're allergic to coconut?”

“Coconut FLAVORING!”

Sam storms into the main room, throwing herself down on the couch right next to Anoush and Louie, who have absolutely no time to change their position. Anoush is frozen on Louie’s lap, and all he can do is be thankful that he isn't straddling Louie and they both have clothes on.

“He's being a complete tool,” Sam gripes, folding her arms and fixing Louie with a stormy glare. “Tell him he's being a tool. He only listens to you.”

Anthony comes in, buried somewhere in his hoodie, and flips her off behind her back. “I smell food,” he says, opening the oven to look inside. “What the fuck? Ziti and no garlic bread?”

Neither teen is remotely fazed by seeing Anoush and Louie so close.

“Hey, get your head outta my fuckin’ oven unless you wanna sleep in there,” Louie calls over to the kitchen. He rubs his thumb back and forth over the small of Anoush’s back. Anoush remains frozen, firmly holding the belief that if he stays still, he’ll turn into a wax figure and not have to exist anymore. 

“Did you just threaten to kill me?” Anthony asks, bemused, as he closes the oven and opens the fridge.

“You could have ACTUALLY killed me!” Sam fumes, and Anoush has a very sobering thought as he hears the remaining two car doors slam outside.

Dating Louie means dating a LaRusso. It means dating Daniel’s cousin, dating the man who’s basically an uncle to Sam and Anthony. Dating someone with a family who already loves Anoush enough to drag him along on a family vacation.

“It was JUST. CHAPSTICK,” Anthony rebuts, still grinning, but Louie can see his bravado faltering just a tad. “I didn't know piña colada had coconut in it.”

Anoush snaps out of his trance. “You didn’t know that piña colada has coconut in it?”

 Louie sees a tiny smile appear on Sam's face for the first time since she walked in.

“Can we stop talking about piña colada?” Amanda whines from the foyer and closes the door behind herself and Daniel. She works on taking off her strappy sandals by the door. “It was the entire car ride, plus the last five minutes at the restaurant. I wanted to finish my seafood risotto, but my kids wanted to— oh. Um.”

She stops in her tracks when she sees Anoush and Louie on the sectional, but tries to stay as composed as possible when she notices that Sam and Anthony are completely unbothered by the display. She sighs and turns towards the kitchen.

“Louie, you still haven’t told him that he’s a tool,” Sam reminds him, flashing him her best set of puppy dog eyes. It worked when she was 8 and it still works at 18.

“Alright, Anthony, stop tormenting your sister. Just ‘cause you’re younger than her don’t mean I can’t call you out for being a dick,” Louie tells his scowling young cousin.

“Woah!” Daniel exclaims as he walks into the main room from the foyer. His eyes widen upon seeing Louie with Anoush in his lap. “Uh- woah at the- the. The dick thing. Not the- this is totally-“

“Yeah, alright,” Louie waves him off, then shamelessly rests that hand on Anoush’s leg in a spot mild enough for a PG movie but risky enough that someone might call HR if they were at work. “It ain't anything he and his friends don’t call each other when they play Fortnite together.” Anthony draws his eyebrows together and drops his jaw, scandalized. “Oh, and Daniel, your son looked me in the eye and asked me why the garlic bread wasn’t in the oven yet when the ziti’s only been in for 20 minutes.”

Daniel’s attention completely shifts focus and he shakes his head at Anthony. “Okay,” Daniel points at Louie, “I’ll let this one slide. Anthony, just apologize to Sam so we can all move on with our lives, please.”

“Are you TRYING to ruin my life?!” Anthony nearly shrieks at Louie.

“At the beach today, you said it’d be funny if I got stung to death by jellyfish,” Louie shrugs one shoulder, currently getting an A+ in taking the piss out of his family members. Anoush gets comfier in his lap, snuggling closer to Louie’s torso, and sips on his wine.

“Oh my god, I didn't say TO DEATH!!” Anthony yells, then devolves into a fit of giggles when he sees Louie’s straight face crack. Louie chuckles too, and even Sam joins in. Anoush smiles as his body shakes with Louie’s laughter.

“Alright, come on, I think we can let these two get back to their dinner we crashed,” Daniel announces. Louie makes a small noise of protest, but it’s Anoush who speaks up. 

“Oh, no, I'm sure there’s plenty for everyone if you guys are still hungry,” he reasons, then looks at Louie to confirm. Louie nods, but Anoush rolls his eyes when he catches the way Louie’s alternating staring quite intensely at his mouth. His one-track mind is something to be admired.

Sam accepts an awkward, mumbled apology from Anthony and lies horizontal on the couch to watch Tiktoks next to Louie and Anoush. Daniel and Lucille drag Anthony into the kitchen to make him prepare the garlic bread. Amanda meanders over as Louie and Anoush approach the end of their drinks.

“Okay, grenache blanc for Anoush,” she says without even having looked at the bottle, “And, Louie- dirty martini?” 

“Yeah, but we’re out of olives,” Louie laments.

Amanda pulls a face. “We've been here three days and you already ate all our olives?” Try as she might, Amanda still doesn’t have the knack for hiding her mild (and mostly playful) contempt for Louie.

“I like olives,” Louie shrugs.

Anoush lets Amanda take his now-empty wine glass. “Okay…” Amanda responds, then looks between the two of them. “And did you use your best judgment?” she directs the question at Louie, but Anoush almost chokes on nothing anyway.

Louie plays dumb. It's a very reliable defense mechanism. “I mean, I felt like shit after I ate half the jar in one sitting.” 

Amanda stares a hole through his forehead. Anoush looks back and forth between them, eyes narrowing.

“C’mon,” Louie says in a low conspiratorial voice, shifting and fidgeting under Anoush. “You think Anoush would do somethin’ that stupid?”

Amanda's mouth presses into a thin line, turning her glare onto Anoush. “He's with you, so I guess I don't know anymore.”

Louie snorts. “Fair enough, Mandy.”

Shaking her head, Amanda points two fingers right at Anoush in an “I’m watching” gesture before walking away. Sam glances up from her phone for a second before losing interest.

“What the fuck was that?” Anoush hisses in Louie’s ear, and Louie dismisses him with a wave of his hand.

“Don't worry ‘bout it. Aunt Lucille, get outta the oven! It needs another twenty at least.”

“You didn't cover the top of the damn dish!” Lucille yells back from the now-bustling kitchen. “You're gonna burn the cheese.”

Louie throws up his hands. “How the fuck is it gonna burn when we keep opening the oven every two minutes?!” 

Anoush exhales deeply and takes a long sip of his wine. This is the LaRusso experience he’s used to, and not even Amanda's wry disapproval can shake his newfound sense of calm in the midst of the chaos.

Daniel and Anthony get the garlic bread in with the ziti so everything is finished together, and despite just coming home from dinner, everyone has at least a few bites so they can grade Louie’s sauce (very good, even though Lucille thinks it needed more time to simmer). Daniel gets the fire pit going outside, and Sam and Amanda bicker over what movie to put on inside. Anoush gets banished to the backyard by Louie when he offers to help clean up, and ends up bonding with Lucille by the fire over their mutual love of true crime novels. Through the open doors, he sees Louie and Sam laughing on the sofa, then Louie getting hit in the face with a throw pillow by Anthony.

“He’s always been so good with them,” Lucille says out of the blue, startling Anoush. He should know by now nothing gets past her.

“He is,” he says with a smile.

“It's not too late, you know.” She eyes him over the rim of her wine glass.

Anoush is lost. “Sorry, too late for what?”

“Babies!” she replies, like it's so obvious and casual. “I mean, it's not like you two have biological clocks to contend with-”

“Heyyyyy, I have cake!!” Daniel, who’s coming back from inside and caught enough of his mom’s words to know he needs to intervene now, saves Anoush from having to reply. Anoush is incredibly grateful--he's been through a lot today, in the best way possible. Going down that road is a bridge too far, simply because if he thinks about it for longer than two seconds he'll probably disintegrate.

He doesn't get to talk to Louie again until after Amanda and Anthony doze off during the movie, and Daniel reminds them all what time they're supposed to leave for the boat. They go back upstairs, and Louie kisses Anoush as soon as the door is closed. Anoush welcomes Louie's big hands on his hips, but a sudden breeze sends a shiver up his spine.

“Oh my god, you forgot to close the doors,” Anoush complains, looking over toward the open balcony doors. 

“You’re the one who opened them,” Louie counters, murmuring against Anoush's temple.

“You’re the one who carried me through them back and forth like a ragdoll,” Anoush protests.

Louie pulls back to admire the pinched expression on Anoush’s face. “Not my fault you couldn’t walk back in by yourself.”

“Uh, no, it quite literally is your fault. Do you hear yourself when you talk or is it, like, elevator music in there?” Anoush asks.

Louie just snickers and bends down to kiss Anoush’s clothed shoulder. “Mm, elevator, that’s a good idea,” Louie whispers.

“What?”

“We should fool around in an elevator,” Louie clarifies and stands up straight. Anoush stares at him incredulously. 

“Just go close the doors, I'm freezing.” he turns toward the bed, away from Louie, but Louie stops Anoush with a hand around his wrist.

“Hey,” Louie says softly, cupping Anoush’s cheek when he faces him once more. “I love you.”

And it works on Anoush because of course it does, because he’s alone with Louie and Louie doesn’t have to choose him but he does anyway, because he knows Louie would move the earth for him if that’s what he wanted. Anoush kisses Louie again, something soft and quick that very nearly warms Anoush up completely, but not quite. 

“I love you,” Anoush echoes, “And I'll love you even more when you close the doors.”

Louie scoffs a laugh, and within a matter of seconds, Anoush is buried underneath the white covers of their king-sized bed. Louie crosses the room, grabs the edges of each door, and pauses to take in the last few moments of the nighttime breeze. He can faintly hear waves crash in the distance. The palm trees on the edge of the property sway gently. The cool breeze hits Louie's face and he can't help but smile.

He pushes the doors closed, turns the lock, and retreats to bed to be with his boyfriend, his lover, his Anoush.

[ultimateplaylistmaker]

What's the Mastermind Kyoko idea?

Okay so it draws from the danganronpa kirigiri books, and the concept of Duel Noir. To just quote the wiki

"Duel Noir (黒の挑戦) are a series of events featured in Danganronpa Kirigiri. They were created and hosted by the Victims Catharsis Committee as a way for victims of crimes to receive "Catharsis" against the one responsible for ruining their life that had not been brought to justice either because the culprit was never found, the wrong person was arrested or they were never punished for their crime."

The basic plot of the books involves a rather young Kyoko, like not even a teen, getting caught up in these due to being a detective. Each noir has four main groups. The person running the duel noir, the person they want to kill, the detective trying to stop them, and innocent parties. Kyoko has been both the innocent party and the detective I believe. Anyways she was very young, with her friend Yui (this is the girl who dies and results in kyokos burns) who was only 13 at the time commenting about how young Kyoko was to be a detective. Then Kyoko gets framed for beheading two men but it's fine they solve it.

Anyways the reason for the Duel Noir's is both the idealogy and because the founder had the ability to sense incoming doom, and he could sense the tragedy and while he had no clue what he fuck that was going to be, he knew something really really bad was coming and was trying to make the best damn apex detective.

So basically my idea takes this, and shoves Kyoko back into more fucking duel noirs. Where either A. due to the grudge held by the founder of the VCC against her for taking his place as the legacy to the kirigiri family she gets kidnapped at a very young age and raised by him to try and make that apex or B, after the death of Yui she gets so bitter and angry she ends up throwing herself back into that culture seeking her own "Catharsis" becoming permanently tangled into the VCC

As such, from going through dozens of duel noirs over the years from this young age, Kyoko grows bitter, she's the greatest detective in the world with zero doubt, but she's also so fucking bitter. She hates humanity, she thinks they're all rotten, they're just angry vengeful creatures who don't care about anything but themselves. Anyone good just gets stomped out before they can do anything, or they reveal they never were that good.

She hates herself, she hates the noirs, she hates humanity, the only thing she has going for her is to solve the mystery of that oncoming doom. She believes that humans cannot change, and that it is far far too late for her to even consider changing. This is who she is now, the only thing she can ever be. Justice does not exist, only this. Humanity truly is sick, her included. She despises it, humanity is just a bunch of sadists and those who get caught up in the crossfire. Disgusting

So when the world ends and she's locked in a school, she deduces one thing has to be true. The ultimate despair is among us (joke intended). So she arranges the final duel noir

The Culprit? Ultimate Despair.

The Target? Humanity.

The Innocent? Class 78.

The Detective? Her.

The Deck? Assembled.

So she takes control of the school, no monokuma theatrics, likely a voice changer and just a silhouette of like a raven on the monitor, and explains the rules clearly. They have to kill to escape but if they get caught they die, however, there is one among them that if they can successfully identify and kill, then all of them may leave, with an immense reward.

So begins the Hope's Peak Noir, she really does hope her classmates can unknowingly help her pin point exactly who the despair is, so she can finally be done with this all.

Also her relation is very love hate with Makoto now, she hates how he makes her question herself, what she's doing, about if she really could change, if people can change, it has to be too late for her, she can't face the fact it isn't. However she's also just, so charmed by this genuine sense of justice and kindness in him, he's everything she thinks humanity isn't, she wants him to make her better, and it's fucking with her head, and as such she's very much going "get out of my school" on him and trying to isolate away from him both because she's having emotions and that's illegal, and because she doesn't want to get him killed like Yui.

Makoto: You can make a difference~ You can make it right~ Kirigiri: I swear to god if you don't stop trying to me about the good in humanity im going to explode but also if anyone makes you lose that spark I will lose my mind

[sparksinger]

rise of the beasts ficcage incoming

i finally finished my little oneshot based on 'rise of the beasts'. as usual it's angst, comfort and a whole load of fluff featuring optimus prime and elena. :3

give it a read if you fancy!

title: remember who you are

trigger warnings: implied/referenced homophobia, mention of the death of a parent

rating: mature

word count: 6.1k

summary: Rise Of The Beasts one-shot fic. Optimus Prime and Elena have a movie night which evokes powerful emotions in both of them. Catharsis and heartfelt conversations follow. (Nothing to do with my 'Love Just Is' series.)

beware of minor spoilers if you haven't seen the movie yet? it's not really spoilerific but there are some minor ones in there.

here it is on ao3

and here it is on ff.net

or you can read it below the cut if you can't be bothered to go to different sites. :3

Three years.

Three years to the day.  The passage of time had not made the emotional or metaphorical scars any easier for Elena to bear.  It was like the first time when she saw the back of a large man, a man, who with his easy-going and confident swagger, could have been her father.

For every time she inhaled the smell of freshly brewed coffee or the smell of a freshly printed New York Times. 

Every time a cab zipped past her in the busy metropolis.

Time, she decided, did not heal all wounds.  In fact, it did not heal wounds period. 

It seemed to Elena that pain and time worked in seamless symbiosis, creating a sick plethora of ­healing, heartache, regret and a whole other load of complicated emotions that she knew she wasn’t in the slightest bit ready to attempt to unravel or understand.

Her mother had become increasingly distant since the death of her father, not even phoning Elena to congratulate her on the recognition of her discovery in Peru.  Ever since Elena had bolstered the courage to tell her parents the painful truth that she had been hiding for so many years, Elena’s mother had made her disapproval of Elena’s orientation clear without ever needing to utter a single word.

Benjamin Wallace’s reaction however, had been one of an entirely different calibre.

He had unfolded himself from his favourite armchair, discarding his crossword puzzle in the Times without a second thought.

Elena remembered watching with anxious trepidation, her breath bated as she watched her father uncurl himself to his full 6’3” height.  She remembered how the cold, uneasy trepidation had fallen away as he opened his arms to her, his ochre-brown eyes softening as he drank in her appearance, as if he was a blind man seeing her for the first time.

She remembered the feel of her hand in his, the way he had reached out to bridge the gap between them, encompassing her hand in his bigger one, wrapping her in the safety and security of his unconditional and eternal love.

“Baby girl, I just want you to be happy.  That is all I have ever wanted for you.  There is nothing you could do that would make me not love you.  You are my single greatest accomplishment in this life, and I am honoured to call myself your father.” 

Elena closed her eyes against the memory, inhaling it greedily, immersing herself in every sensory aspect of it.

The feeling of her father’s strong arms at her back.

The coffee scent that seemed to cling to his very skin.

The overwhelming sense of safety and love that permeated everything that he touched.

The feeling of her father’s strong arms at her back.

Elena shook her head, attempting to dislodge the memories and push them back to somewhere that would be significantly less painful.  She did not need to be dealing with errant thoughts and emotions when she had plenty of menial things to keep her occupied for the time being.

She placed her hands on her hips and observed the space before her.

The abandoned warehouse-turned-Autobot-base hadn’t changed much in the three and a half months since she had Noah had met the Autobots. 

In the back-left corner of the expansive open space was a crude ‘R&R’ station.  Elena smiled to herself when she remembered asking Mirage what ‘R&R’ stood for.  The incredulous look he had given her would have been offensive if he wasn’t so damned endearing with it at the same time.

“What do you think it stands for, Chica?  ‘Rest and repairs’!”  He’d said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire universe.

The berth that had been assembled by Arcee and Optimus was an impressive size.  It was thirty feet in length and a good fifteen feet from the ground.  A little big for the other Autobots, but necessary if Optimus was ever knocked out of commission.

Elena’s thoughts turned to the task at hand as the image of the Autobot leader came across her mind’s eye.

She knew she had about an hour before he got back from his patrol. 

An hour was all she needed.

Over the past few days, Noah had helped her to bring all the necessary equipment to the abandoned warehouse, storing it under a discreet pile of black tarpaulin and strategically placed spare parts. 

The largest piece of equipment that she needed had been placed on the overhead catwalk for her by a helpful Bumblebee only the day before.

“’Talk to me…oh, what’s going on?’”  Elena had laughed as Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On sounded from Bumblebee’s speakers.

“A surprise Bee!  You’ll be able to see it once Optimus has.”

The friendly yellow Autobot scout had helped her to secure and mount the equipment to the catwalk platform, chirping curiously and playing various sound bites through his radio throughout the duration of the installation process.

Elena took her backpack off and retrieved the film reel within it.  She affixed it carefully to the projector, making sure that the machine was calibrated properly and making sure that the angle would line up correctly with the screen.

Once she was satisfied with the set-up of the film projector, she replaced the cover and made her way over to the ladder that would grant her access to the catwalk platform. 

She left her backpack on the floor and made sure to grip the ladder firmly with both hands before placing one of her Doc Marten clad feet on the lowermost rung.

Elena had never been the biggest fan of heights, and her recent experience with giant extra-terrestrial robots had not exactly warmed her to the concept.

Pushing the annoying thoughts to the back of her mind, she determinedly ascended the ladder, laughing at herself in a dark corner of her mind.  She had survived a battle for her planet’s survival and yet she was scared of climbing a ladder that was roughly twelve feet high?

Pathetic. ­­

It did not feel so pathetic however, when she heard a low groaning sound, a sound like the creak of fatigued metal giving way under her weight.

She scrambled quickly up the rest of the ladder and tucked her legs over the edge of the catwalk platform just as the offending object clattered to the ground with an earth-resounding crash.  The noise was temporarily deafening and for a split second, she was back on the bridge in Peru, listening to the deafening clash of metal against metal as titan fought titan.

“Elena, shut it down!”  Optimus Prime’s command as he charged to jump the gap between the key console and the bridge. 

She remembered how his heavy footfalls had reverberated in her chest, making her very ribs feel like they were vibrating.

She sighed, leaning over the edge of the catwalk to see if the ladder situation was at all salvageable.

It was not.

The ladder had fallen completely flat onto the concrete floor below and there was no way on earth that she could reach it without actually leaving the catwalk platform itself, which in turn defeated the object of her needing the ladder in the first place.

She shrugged to herself and made her way over to the mounts holding the projector screen in place.  She undid one side first and then the other, untwisting the mounts that were secured like screw nails.  The projector screen unravelled with a satisfying sound, not dissimilar to the sound a boat’s sail made when it was released.

She was pleased with the overall size of the screen.  It covered a good part of the catwalk railing that it was suspended from, and its generously large size ensured that it would be seen by large and small individuals alike.  All in all, she was satisfied with the set-up of the space that was available to her.  There weren’t many options available in the abandoned warehouse, but she felt that she had utilised the space available to her to the best of her ability. 

All she had to do now was wait for Optimus to get back from his patrol.

She sat down on the edge of the catwalk, allowing her legs to dangle over the side while she wrapped her arms around the lowermost railing.

The corrugated iron floor of the catwalk still retained some of the day’s heat, a heat that she felt on the backs of her thighs as she lowered herself to the floor.  The weather lady that very morning on WABC-TV had declared the late heatwave an ‘Indian’ summer. 

Before she had left her apartment that morning, Elena had elected for a plain white camisole paired with a battered, pinafore-style faded blue denim romper suit.  Her father had bought it for her four birthdays ago and it was nearing the end of its public life.  Sooner rather than later it would be no good except when she cleaned her apartment, but the thought of parting with it made her heart accelerated to a panicked and frantic rhythm.

A strategically tied bandana adorned her head, keeping her natural curls close to her scalp in an attempt to combat the year’s late, oppressive heat. 

The temperature had hovered around the low eighties and, a fact not helped by the minimal amount of rainfall that New York City had had so far for the month of September.

Elena swung her legs slowly to and fro, her dark brown eyes tracking the movement of her Doc Marten boots.  Doc Marten boots that were scuffed, paint-damaged and at least eight years old.

A nostalgic smile kissed her lips as a sudden memory played in the forefront of her mind, like her own personal picture show.

“Elena, when are you gonna polish those god-damned boots?!  I ain’t havin’ nobody thinkin’ your father and I raised you in some poorhouse girl!” 

Her mother’s shrill insistence that everything had to look and be perfect all the time.

“Easy Gloria!  The girl ain’t gonna lose out on anything in life if she’s got some scuffed boots!” 

The gentle cadence of her father’s calm and deep voice. 

Equally as powerful, she remembered her mother’s disappointment and anger when she learnt of her daughter’s chosen career path.  She had been most horrified at the fact that her daughter was not aspiring to become the devoted and loving wife of a high-flying, Manhattan based defence attorney. 

Elena pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind, not wanting to deal with them right at that particular moment.  She was prone to ruminating and then spiralling into a deep, introspective pit of her own making.  It was seldom a happy place to be, and she already devoted enough of her mental energy spending time there.

Energy that she was determined on claiming back for herself.

Elena was pulled from her self-imposed reverie by the low growl of a Freightliner’s engine. 

She lifted her head in time just to see Optimus roll to a complete stop, his airbrakes hissing lightly with the motion.  She watched with ill-disguised awe and amazement as the vehicle parts shifted and reconfigured themselves until they had arranged into the body of the Autobot leader.

He ducked as he came in through the large doorway, his heavy footfalls reverberating in Elena’s chest.  His blue optics widened when he saw her, clearly not expecting anybody to be at the warehouse when he returned from his patrol. 

In her hurry to stand, she smashed her head against the top bar of the railing on the catwalk.  Pain shot through her cranium and into her forehead, making her see stars for a few seconds.

She heard, rather than saw Optimus hurrying towards her, his blue lower legs filling the majority of her field of vision.  Hydraulics hissed as he raised a hesitant servo. 

“Elena!  Are you alright?  Are you at all injured?”  His deep baritone was laced with concern. 

“Argh god-dammit!” she muttered, more to herself than to him.   She lifted her eyes to meet his earnest blue gaze.  Hilariously, he was slightly bending his knees so as to bring himself more to her level.  It was kind of endearing to see the massive, twenty-foot tall Autobot leader trying to get to her perspective.

“Elena, are you injured?”  his tone was a little more pressing this time, his optics worriedly fixed on her. 

“No, just my pride.”  She groaned, rubbing a tentative hand over the top of her head.

Ouch.

There was definitely going to be a lump there in the morning.

Optimus straightened, visibly satisfied with her answer. 

“Why did you do that?  If you are going to strike things with your head, would it not be pertinent to don protective headwear first?  It is my understanding that human bones, and therefore human craniums are very fragile.” 

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”  she uttered, a little defensively. 

He held both hands up defensively.  “Duly noted.  I will not make such an assumption again.”  He eyed her thoughtfully before speaking again.  “You are stressed.  Your cortisol levels are currently elevated to eighteen micrograms per decilitre; a significant amount higher than the average of ten micrograms per decilitre for your species.” 

Elena worked hard to smooth her face into some semblance of what she hoped was a polite smile.  “Did you just scan me?”

A brisk nod was her answer.

She sighed.  “Optimus, we’ve spoken about this before.  You can’t just go around scanning people.  It’s personal information.” 

The Autobot leader remained undeterred.  “I see no adverse consequences if the information revealed to me in my scan helps me to alleviate some pain, physical or otherwise.” 

That stopped her in her tracks.  She stared blankly at him for a few seconds.  His face was an inscrutable mask of polite interest, his ‘brows’ sitting in two perfectly neutral lines above his cerulean optics. 

In the end, she opted for a diversion tactic. 

“What do you think of the set-up?” she asked, nodding towards the screen. 

Optimus took the bait, casting his gaze downwards. 

His ‘eyebrows’ (could she even call them that?) rose and disappeared slightly behind his helm as he examined the screen.  He reached out a gentle hand and poked it lightly with one finger, seemingly surprised by how easily it gave way underneath his touch.

“What is it?” he rumbled, lifting his optics back up so that they rested on Elena once more. 

Elena took a deep breath.

“I thought that you and I could have a movie night, if you want?  I know Arcee and Wheeljack are busy in South America with Primal looking on how to harvest that raw energon and Mirage and Bumblebee are holed up outside Noah’s apartment.  They are having a gaming tournament on Kris’ Sega Drive.” 

Optimus did not speak for a moment, seemingly struck speechless. 

“You wish to…have a movie night with me?”  he spoke quietly, his voice almost vulnerable. 

Elena laughed.  “You don’t have to sound so scared!  I just thought it might be nice for you to have some downtime.  Don’t think about work for a while.  Lose yourself in a world of make-believe, even if it’s just for one hour.” 

Optimus smiled gently at her.  Even though it was only small, it transformed his entire face.  The metallic mosaic that made up his facial plating shifted and allowed her a glimpse of someone who had not yet been touched by the horrific burdens and responsibilities that came with trying to co-ordinate a war from an alien planet.

“You should do that more often.”  She watched in amusement as his eyebrows shot upwards into his helm again.

“I am afraid I am not following your meaning, Elena.  What should I do more often?”

“Smile!  You have a nice smile.”  Once again it appeared that she had rendered the Autobot leader totally and utterly speechless. 

This time, it was he who opted for the diversion tactic. 

“Why are you on the catwalk?  You will need to set up the movie, I am not familiar with how to operate human technology, and I fear my hands are too large to work such technology without causing irreparable damage.” 

Elena smiled warmly at him.  “I can help you with that last part, but you might need to help me get down from here.  The ladder fell as I was climbing up it.” 

His optics widened in alarm.  “Were you injured?”  His voice resumed the earlier tones of his concern. 

“Nah.  I got up here in time.  I’ve just been stuck up here for the last hour or so.  No big deal.” 

“It is a ‘big deal’ Elena.  You could have been harmed.  Where is this ladder now?” 

He followed her point to where the ladder had fallen earlier. 

Walking over, he bent from the waist and picked the ladder up easily in both of his large hands, turning it over and examining it.  Blue rays of light shot out from his optics as he continued his thorough inspection.

“What are you doing?”  Elena asked, making her way over to the edge of the platform where the ladder had previously been mounted. 

“Determining where the structural weakness is.”  Optimus replied, focusing on the top of the ladder.  He gave it a light tap with the index and middle fingers of his left hand.  A deafening clang resounded throughout the room, made all the more impressive by the warehouse’s acoustics.  The ladder had broken clean in half, one piece clasped in Optimus’ right hand and the other laying in a cloud of dust on the concrete floor.

“Hmm.  This is not salvageable.”  He retrieved the other piece from the floor and walked over to the wide doors of the warehouse, the ones he had entered through earlier and easily lobbed the pieces of the ladder outside as if they weighed nothing at all. 

He made his way back over to Elena then, the fingers of his left hand gently uncurling as he held it out in front of her. 

“May I?”  He offered her another gentle smile, his optics softening by a tiny degree.

Elena hesitated.  It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, but he was so huge.

Humming The Sign under her breath, Elena walked towards Optimus’ outstretched hand.  She watched in awe as his fingers gently wrapped themselves easily around her midsection, lifting her with alarming ease. 

Involuntarily, her knees came up and she grabbed onto Optimus’ thumb so tightly she felt like her knuckles might tear through her skin.  She scrunched her eyes tightly shut as the sensation of leaving her stomach behind on the catwalk overtook her senses. 

A low chuckle rumbled somewhere from above her.  “Easy Elena.  I’ve got you.  I promise I won’t drop you.”  Optimus’ voice was a gentle, sonorous baritone that curled around her, caressing her senses like the forgotten embrace of a dear friend.

She didn’t respond but kept her koala-like grip tight on Optimus’ thumb, not trusting her reaction if she opened her eyes and saw how high she was suspended in midair. 

Another amused chuckle echoed deep in her chest.  “Elena, you can put your feet down.  You will find solid ground.” 

Cautiously, Elena lowered one leg, toeing the open air with her Doc Marten boot.  She was surprised to find the ground a lot sooner than she had anticipated.  Not quite trusting that, she very slowly creaked one eye open and saw that Optimus was right.  She looked up at him sheepishly and almost burst out laughing at the position he was in. 

He was crouched right down, almost on his haunches.  His right hand was splayed palm-down on the concrete floor, a counter-balance for his immense weight.  The fingers of his left hand were still wrapped firmly but gently around  her middle, patiently waiting for her to regain a steady, vertical base before he withdrew. 

She placed both feet firmly on the ground, simultaneously loosening her grip on Optimus’ thumb before letting go of it completely.  She offered him a sheepish smile, her fingers interlocking themselves together in her embarrassment.  “Thanks Optimus, ‘preciate it.” 

He inclined his helm graciously at her, pulling his hand back and resting it atop one of his bent knees.  “You are most welcome.  I am pleased to have been of assistance.  I will see about getting that ladder replaced as soon as possible.” 

He remained in the crouched position, his optics carefully trained on Elena.  “And in answer to your earlier query…I would be honoured to join you for a…movie night.  May I ask what move we are going to be watching?” 

Elena grinned up at him, all her earlier trepidation forgotten.  “Well, it’s technically a new one.  It isn’t out on VHS yet, but I don’t think there’s a drive-in theatre in the city that would accommodate your vehicle mode.  So Noah got a copy of the movie from his friend Reek.” 

Optimus raised an incredulous brow.  “Is this the gentleman who pirates cable television?” 

Elena stared at him dumbfounded.  “How on earth do you know that?!” 

Optimus had the grace to offer her a wry smile.  “Mirage is not the best at keeping certain information confidential.  However, in the grand scheme of things…I do not think a pirated movie is going to turn you into a hardened criminal Elena.”  He winked playfully at her before drawing his index finger across his lip plates in a ‘zipping’ motion. 

Elena was momentarily lost for words.

Since their return from South America and near death, Optimus’ stoic and stern demeanour had softened a lot.  He was more talkative and seemed to take genuine interest and enjoyment from interacting with both Noah and Elena. 

He would inquire after Kris’ health from Noah, asking if his little brother had had any bad flare ups recently or if at long last, he had managed to defeat the Bowser level on his ‘handheld video game device.’ 

He would spend long hours talking with Elena about her work and where her interest in ancient artifacts had started.  He had been one of the first to warmly congratulate her on the recognition of her discovery in Peru and her initiative in decoding the code to the panel that would have allowed them to deactivate the Transwarp key. 

She decided she liked this friendly, slightly goofy side of Optimus Prime.

She shook her head, realising a few seconds had passed and Optimus was still patiently waiting for an answer.

“It’s a film called The Lion King.  It is a kid’s film, but it has one of my dad’s favourite actors in it.  He’s doing one of the voices.  I know my dad would have wanted to see it.” 

Optimus’ optics softened at the mention of her father. 

“Then I would be honoured to watch The Lion King with you Elena.” 

“Awesome!  Take a seat then, it’ll take be two seconds to get the projector running.” 

His joints creaked and his hydraulics hissed as he rose to his full height, casting a long shadow over Elena.  He moved to sit against the wall directly opposite the screen, in the same position he had assumed when he had been a passenger in Stratosphere’s alt-mode; one leg stretched out in front of him with the other brought up to his chest, one arm resting easily on top of his bent knee.

She hurried over to the projector, double checking that everything was calibrated correctly and in the correct place before she set it to run.  Satisfied that everything was as it should be, she started the film reel and half-ran to where Optimus was sitting.

It suddenly dawned on her that he was sitting on the floor. 

“Aww man!”  She exclaimed, feeling foolish at the fact that she had overlooked such a massive detail. 

Optimus’ hydraulics hissed slightly as he turned his head to gaze down at her.  “What it is the matter?” 

“You’re sitting on the floor!  I should’ve thought of something for you to sit on.” 

He surprised her by uttering a barking laugh.  “Worry not Elena.  Any flat surface is more than suitable for me to recline on.  I do not require comfort in the same way that you humans do.”  He eyed the surrounding area, looking first to his left and then his right.  “However, where are you going to sit?” 

Elena laughed at her own forgetfulness.  “It’s okay Optimus.  I don’t mind sitting on the floor.  It’s no biggie.” 

Both of their attention was momentarily commandeered by the screen turning black as the film projector rolled. 

“If you would not be averse to it, would you like to sit on my shoulder?  It would be marginally more comfortable than the floor and I will be able to keep you warm.  The temperature drops quite quickly once the evening closes in.” 

Elena surprised herself when she agreed to his proposition with no hesitation at all.

His large hand descended towards her once more, fingers open and waiting for her to bridge the gap between them. 

She stepped forward into his grasp and was lifted gently and tenderly to his massive right shoulder.  His hand hovered behind her until she had lowered herself into a seated position, her legs dangling over the edge of his chest. 

“Umm, thank you Optimus.  Is this okay?”  She gestured to her legs, trying hard not to swing them to and fro as was her habit. 

He nodded the affirmative, his expression unreadable. 

“Cool.”  She settled back, leaning against the corrugated metal wall of the warehouse.  A sudden thought made her jerk upright again.  “Wait a minute, you’re not ticklish or anything, are you?” 

Optimus chuckled lightly.  “No Elena, I am not ticklish.  Assume whatever posture in which you are comfortable.” 

Satisfied, Elena assumed her earlier position, bringing one leg up to almost mirror Optimus. 

A comfortable silence fell between them as the opening notes of a dramatic voice sounded over the speakers Noah had hardwired into the warehouse within days of their return from Peru.

Elena watched, enraptured as beautiful scenes of the African plains rolled across the screen.  She was spell-bound by the colours and the emotion that the accompanying music stirred within her, piquing a curiosity for what was yet to come. 

She sneaked a sideways glance at Optimus, whose optics where trained on the screen.  He seemed to be as every part drawn in by the movie as she was. 

She felt the fine, baby-like hairs on the back of her neck rise along with the reflexive goosebumps across her arms and legs when she heard the deep, resonant tones of James Earl Jones’ voice coming from the character Mufasa.

She noticed, with interest, Optimus’ visible bristling when the main antagonist, Scar, was introduced into the cast.  He ground his lip plates subtly together, tightening the fingers of his left hand into a clenched fist at the same time. 

She watched, her throat thick with emotion as Mufasa gently reprimanded Simba after his reckless actions in the Elephant Graveyard, her eyes filming up with nostalgic tears as she watched them play rough and tumble. 

She could not however, stop the sharp intake of breath as she watched Scar cruelly throw Mufasa to his death, her own expression mirroring the one of hurt and horror on little Simba’s face. 

Tears fell freely and silently down her face, painting the pain and loss that had ached for so long to be released from her broken heart.  She worked hard to control her breathing, not wanting Optimus to see the vulnerability that was plastered across her face.

Optimus, ever tactful, shifted his helm slightly so that it was inclined towards her.  She leaned gratefully against it, silently accepting the comfort and support that he so freely offered.

She did not stop weeping for the rest of the movie but did find it within herself to laugh when Timon and Pumba attempted to distract the villainous hyenas with their ‘drag in hula’ skit.  Fresh tears assaulted her eyes as she watched Simba ascend Pride Rock for the first time since his acceptance of his role as king. 

She let herself feel the gentle flutter of her own heartbeat when Simba and Nala proudly introduced their newborn cub to the other residents of the plain, the circle of life completing once more. 

As the credits rolled across the black backdrop of the screen, Optimus turned fully to regard her.  His round optics were kind and gentle, appraising her with an unspoken sense of concern. 

“Are you alright Elena?” 

That one simple question seemed to unlock the floodgates within her. 

Her tears fell without pause now, creating a constant stream of moving liquid down her face.  Optimus’ large visage went watery in her vision, obscured as it was by the relentless tears falling from her eyes. 

With a gentleness that belied his enormous size, Optimus gently wrapped his fingers around Elena’s mid-section once more and lifted her, carefully setting her down on his right forearm.  He kept the arm she was on tucked close to his chest and leaned down closer to her, keeping his left hand cupped securely around her back.

Without even really thinking about what she was doing, Elena raised her arms and wrapped them as much as she could around the Autobot leader’s neck.  She felt him stiffen lightly in surprise before relaxing and leaning down into her embrace. 

She felt his hand tighten slightly around her back and shoulders, his metallic thumb brushing against her arm in a comforting gesture.  She buried her face into the space between his neck and chin, aching to feel the close affection of a parent.

An embrace that she had not felt for three years. 

Elena felt the smooth rocking sensation as Optimus gently moved first forwards and then backwards.  His thumb continued stroking her arm gently while his arms held her together as she fell apart.

“Shh.  It’s okay Elena.  You can let go.  I’ve got you.”  His gentle, affectionate cadence was all that she needed to be pushed off the edge and into emotional free-fall. 

Her sobs came slowly at first, creeping up upon her as the incoming tide creeps up on the beach.  They exited out of her slowly and quietly, a slow bleed of pain that she had denied herself from feeling since her father’s death three years previously. 

Then something inside her kicked up a gear. 

Anger and resentment.

Anger that her mother would not accept her for who she was.

Resentment for the fact that her mother had driven her first love away without remorse.

Anger that her father would never get to see her achievements.

The ever reaching, devastating power of the sadness that seeped from every pore in her body at the realisation that she would never again see her father, hear his voice or smell the coffee-stained newspapers in his cab. 

She cried like a wounded animal, the intensity of her pain drawing cruel lacerations up one side of her heart and down the other.  Her breaths came in short, sharp cries, like she had just taken part in a triathlon. 

She screamed out, rageful cries of someone who had taken all the pain they could bear. 

In a moment of pure vulnerability, the sound of Elena’s pain ripped up through her throat.  Her pain was echoed in her screams, reverberating with a fierce and desperate longing.  With each cry, her sobs became a little less intense as she came down from her abrupt adrenaline rush.  Each shaky exhalation was a cathartic purge of the sorrow and grief that had haunted her for years. 

Hydraulics hissed as Optimus gently withdrew from their embrace, looking at Elena with a profound sense of sadness present in his astute optics. 

“Elena, are you alright?”  He repeated his earlier question, holding her in the intensity of his soul-reaching gaze.  

She lowered her eyes from his, dropping her chin to her chest as a sudden feeling of overwhelming mortification creeped up her neck and into her face. 

Servos whirred as a gentle finger was placed under her chin, lifting her face to meet his optics once more. 

“Elena?” 

“I am…okay.  I’m really sorry about that Optimus.  I shouldn’t have allowed that to happen.”  She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, all too aware of their red and swollen appearance.  

“Do not ever be sorry for your feelings Elena.”  Optimus said, brushing a last few stray tears from her face with his thumb.  “I am profoundly sorry for your loss, and though I never had the pleasure of meeting your father, I believe he would be immeasurably proud of the woman that you are today.” 

Elena regarded him with a raised brow. 

“I say this because although I have only known you for a short amount of time, you have always conducted yourself with honour and dignity.  Even when my own behaviour was…less than courteous to you and your kind. 

“You had no reason to help us, yet you did, asking nothing in return.  In short, we could not have found the Transwarp key without your assistance.  And I wish to say, ‘thank you.’  Your valiant effort for my kind and I, as well as our planet, means more to me than I can articulate.  I am in your debt Elena.”

Elena, who had never been comfortable with receiving praise, squirmed awkwardly in Optimus’ grasp. 

“Noah did most of the hard work.  He took on Scourge and those weird spider-bot things.  He came to get the key for you from the museum.  I just stowed away really.” 

Optimus gave her a knowing look.  “Who worked out that the other half of the key was in Peru?  Who worked out the access code to the panel on the bridge?  Who,” he spoke more softly, his sonorous voice barely above a whisper, “who opposed vehemently to the destruction of the remaining half of the key once it was located?” 

Elena felt her blood run cold in her veins.  “You…you knew about that?”  Her own voice was barely audible to her ears.

Optimus surprised her by uttering a low chuckle.  “We Autobots possess extremely sensitive hearing Elena.  I do not blame Noah for his original intentions.  However, your…passionate opposition of destroying the remaining half of the key resounded deeply with me.  I could not understand why a mere human” he offered her an apologetic wink, “would want to help our kind.  I am beyond grateful that you did however.”

Elena half-smiled, refastening her bandana where it had become a little loose.  “We ain’t all bad y’know.  Sure, there are some evil bastards out there, more than there should be, but there are good ones too.  You just have to find ‘em.” 

Optimus hummed thoughtfully, seeming to agree with her. 

“Like Charlie.  Bee told me about her, when he first landed on Earth?” 

Optimus nodded.  “Indeed.  He speaks most highly of her.  I know he misses her terribly.” 

“You know, my dad always used to say, ‘if you keep your eyes and your ears open, life will show you everything you need to know.’” 

“A wise and accurate sentiment.  Your father sounded like a very wise and intelligent man.”  Optimus mused, bathing Elena in a pool of gentle blue light from his optics. 

“He was, he really was.”  Elena’s voice carried a sad tone of nostalgia, one that was tinged with the happiness of memories passed but burdened with the weight of absent love. 

Optimus seemed to hesitate before he spoke again.  “On my world, we believe that the ones who have passed on are in the AllSpark, reunited with our fallen brethren and wise mentors from the Golden Age.  In this, we are safe in the knowledge that we are never truly alone. 

“What I am trying to say Elena, is this; you are your father’s daughter.  Part of him, if you will excuse my borrowing of the sentiment from the movie we have just watched, lives on in you.  You are his legacy; you are his hope.  Remember that, and you cannot go far wrong.  Remember who you are, and I know his memory and spirit will walk proudly in step beside you.”

Elena hugged Optimus again, feeling the soft vibrations of his systems against her soft skin. 

“Thank you, Optimus.  Till all are one, right?”  She asked, holding out a closed fist to him. 

A gentle, warm smile transformed his face as he raised his massive left fist to lightly touch against hers.

“Indeed Elena.  Till all are one.”

[denimbex1986]

'For All of Us Strangers—Andrew Haigh’s second film about lonely gays in high-rises—the director tells George Fenwick about urban isolation, what queer people share between generations, and how to write a good sex scene.

When Adam (Andrew Scott) first sees Harry (Paul Mescal) in Andrew Haigh’s All of Us Strangers, he’s a literal beacon of light: a lone figure staring out from the darkness of the near-empty apartment building in which they both live. Adam, a screenwriter, lives a solitary life of writing, eating takeout and watching home renovation shows, but when Harry appears at his door with a bottle of whiskey, a cautious romance begins between these two lonely souls, adrift in the sprawl of London.

Loneliness has long been a fascination of Haigh’s—specifically, since 2011, lonely gays in tower blocks. Scott and Mescal perform isolation with painful precision, and I tell them this on a call to collect their four favorites, before I connect with their director for a longer conversation. Both actors demur, redirecting their praise towards Haigh and Jamie D. Ramsay, his director of photography. Ramsay shot Oliver Hermanus’s Moffie and Living, which also feature grappling, secluded protagonists reaching out for connection with gentle, dreamlike textures. “Playing loneliness, as much as you want to think about it, you’re actually really reliant on the DP,” Scott tells me. “In a very subtle way, it’s allowing the audience to just see a person in a room. The visual picture is very important.”

Haigh’s script, adapted from Taichi Yamada’s 1987 novel Strangers, also sends Adam into his past; while writing about his upbringing, the character takes the train to the suburb he grew up in and finds his parents (played by Claire Foy and Jamie Bell) in his childhood home—filmed in Haigh’s own boyhood home—the same age as the day they died more than 30 years earlier. Adam’s loneliness is countered by an innate desire to connect; as he bonds with Harry over their respective isolation from their families, he is also suddenly able to speak truthfully about his sexuality to the ghosts of his parents.

It’s in these impossible conversations that Haigh’s script finds its greatest catharsis. “I find the scene on the bed so upsetting,” says Mescal, “where Harry tries to make light of [his loneliness]. He tries to describe it as an inevitable thing, and you see true love between Adam and Harry, because Adam doesn’t let Harry off the hook—not in an unkind way. He’s like, ‘Why do you think that that’s okay? It’s totally not.’ He invites a very difficult conversation. [Adam and Harry] both serve as warnings to how dangerous conversations can be in a family setting. Adam has the privilege to go back and reinvestigate that parental relationship, where Harry doesn’t have that opportunity.”

Haigh, grateful for his actors, dives deeper with us to explore how he set about analyzing the relationship between romantic and parental love through Adam’s journey, the strangeness of filming All of Us Strangers in his own childhood home, and the slippery allure of clubbing.

Gay men from slightly different generations share a lot in this film—could you talk about why that distance was important, and what unites them? Andrew Haigh: I knew that I wanted them to be different generations. The whole film is about generations, and how we see the world, and how we love. I am really obsessed with what makes us different from each other, and also what makes us the same. It’s about what we share.

There is a younger generation of queer people that have had a very, very different experience than my generation, just like mine is different from the generation above. Sometimes you can get entrenched in what makes you individual, rather than seeing [that] we are sharing so much along the lines. Even though the world has changed so much, if you are any kind of outsider, you’re definitely not in the center of the mainstream. You’re on the edges of things, and it’s very easy to find yourself drifting further and further away. For some people, that’s fantastic, and they love being in that place. For other people, it can be very painful. Within queer life, sometimes that is drifting away from your family.

I love the way you depict urban isolation in the film. Why did you want to place Adam in this empty high-rise, and what does it say about 21st-century living? Urban alienation and loneliness is a real thing. We often come to cities hoping it’s going to be the answer. Lots of us grew up in the suburbs, and then we come to the city because that’s where it’s at, and when you’re a queer person, that’s where you feel like you have to go. But when you get to the city, it can be a very isolating place. It’s not easy to meet people, to communicate, there’s people everywhere, and you can get locked into your world.

For me, this is a film about someone trying to escape loneliness. I wanted, in the beginning of the film, to really sense in every frame his aloneness in the world and his need to reach out: he’s looking out at London through the windows, he’s going on the train back to his parents’, he’s always reaching out for something. That can be a difficult thing when you live in a city. You can get trapped.

How long did it take to find the perfect high-rise? It was a nightmare. The inside is actually a set. Very few apartment blocks would let us film in them, and most wouldn’t even let us photograph the outside of them, because they’re all run by huge multinational corporations. I knew I wanted it to be a part of London that is sort of new, so we tried to shoot in Vauxhall for a while, where all these new buildings have gone up. But no one would let us film, so this is in Stratford [a suburb of east London]. I like that, because it feels like it’s on the edge of something. It’s trying to be a new community, but it’s not quite bedded in yet to the surrounding world of that area. It was kind of perfect in the end: there is London, the city itself, somewhere out there on the horizon.

I went to the Westfield in Stratford to get my outfit for the BIFAs, and it does feel like the end of the world. That Westfield center, I mean, oh, my god. If we’re going to get to the end of the world, it’s that.

The way you shot the building reminded me of the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey—the way it felt not human, and unknowable. It’s so grand and ugly, and you feel like it’s never going to move. It’s a really unpleasant building—I mean, I’d never live there, but for people that live there, I apologize. I’m sure it’s very nice if you live there for real.

You filmed Adam’s family scenes in your own childhood home. When did you decide that would be your location? How did it then feel once you were actually standing on set with the actors in it? As I was writing, it just kept coming into my mind. I was trying to write about someone going back home, so, of course, when I’m writing, I’m so in my own head, and all I could imagine was the memories of that place where I used to live. I left there when I was eight, and I’ve never been back before the film. As we were thinking of locations, I was like, ‘Why don’t I just go there?’

I quite foolishly thought it’d be fun, but then being there was a strange experience. It felt like it was haunted somehow, which is perfect for the film. But it was haunted by my memories of being there. It’s very strange how 45 years can go by, and you can still remember everything. I could remember what the banister felt like, I could remember what the doors were like, I could just picture everything once I got in there.

I think it helped the film enormously. Because [everybody] knew it was my house, they felt like they could be more open about their own memories of childhood. So much of it, when we were there, was us all sharing stories of when we were young, and that created a magical tone, not just from me and the actors but the crew as well. When you’re trying to capture something special on screen, it’s not just about what’s on the camera—it’s everything around it. It’s the tone of the set that you create. It’s the conversations you have with everybody that can help that appear on screen.

That’s clear in the scene when Adam comes out to his mother, which is so beautifully done. It has this humor to it—for queer viewers, a lot of the clumsy things that Claire Foy’s character is saying are so familiar. It took me a long time to write [the scene], and we were all quite nervous shooting it. I’m trying to do lots of different things. I don’t want to vilify the mother necessarily in this; she’s a product of her time. She clearly loves her son, she just doesn’t understand. The idea of her son has suddenly shifted. Also, you’re telling a story about an adult who’s got over all of this, you hope, and suddenly he’s been dragged back to exactly how he used to feel in the ’80s, when all of those things that the mother says are exactly what everybody said to us all of the time. It’s almost like the emotion builds up in Adam without him even knowing it’s building up.

I like the idea that the humor comes in at the beginning, and you’re like, ‘Oh, this is so funny, and I can’t believe they say that,’ until you realize, oh, yeah, that is what people said, and it’s actually affecting Adam. I’ve been very intrigued, as some people stop laughing earlier than other people in that scene. That’s interesting, because there’s a moment when you don’t laugh anymore in that scene, and you’re like, ‘Oh, no, this is painful for Adam.’ But I quite like what that makes the audience feel, because somehow they’ve become like an accomplice in it. For a lot of people, that must be like, ‘Oh, yeah, that is also how we used to speak, and how we used to feel.’

Let’s talk about sex. The way you portray sex throughout your work is so brilliant—it’s real and tender, and 45 Years is one of the few films I can think of that allows older people a sex life on screen. Could you talk about why sex is important to you as a writer, and why those scenes are important for your characters? It’s just what you said—it’s important for the characters. I’ve always tried to think, if I’m going to do a sex scene, what is it saying? What are we showing about the character? In 45 Years, it’s a scene when they almost reconnect in a very important moment in the film, and they can’t have sex, they don’t have sex in that moment. It doesn’t really work, and it has ramifications going forward. So it’s a fundamentally important scene.

It’s the same in [All of Us Strangers]. It’s about two people understanding what the other person needs in that moment. It’s really tender, intimate, and sexy—all of the things you want sex to be. It means something. They’re also having fun, and that’s really important for this moment in the movie. I know there are people now that feel like we don’t need sex scenes in film anymore. What I think people mean is—not to put words in their mouths—they don’t want sex scenes that don’t have any other purpose other than showing sex. There’s no reason for that. But lots of us do have sex, lots of us want to have sex as part of our emotional lives.

I have to read you a review from our Letterboxd community. Kristen writes, “You can’t have a Blur’s ‘Death of a Party’ needle drop followed by Pet Shop Boys’ ‘Always on My Mind’ and not expect me to cry.” How does music inform your writing and direction? With this one, hugely. It’s almost like a musical to me, this film. At one point, Claire’s character is even singing along to a Pet Shop Boys song. All of these songs were very, very integral, [and] most of them are there in the script stage. They’re chosen to have an emotional effect, and to comment on what’s happening: ‘Death of a Party’, for example, is a strange song to have in a club during that scene, but I remember being in that club back in the ’90s, and they did play it. But it somehow speaks to what’s happening in the film—this euphoria, but also a darkness that is overlapping.

The Pet Shop Boys song was very much in there from the [start]. I love this idea that a romantic ballad can also act as an apology from a mother to a son. I think that song weirdly defines that thing I’m trying to say, which is that parental love and romantic love are so wrapped up together. Our understanding of what we want romantically comes from how we experience love in a familial setting.

I want to talk about the club scene—in a lot of films this year, club scenes have provided such pivotal moments for characters. Can you talk about why you wanted to send your characters to an iconic queer venue, the Royal Vauxhall Tavern in London, and why that was an important turning point for Adam’s story? If you look at my own queer life, when I started feeling comfortable about things, I was going out clubbing a lot. In some weird sense, because time is very slippery in this film, their decision to go clubbing, which comes directly after Adam having that conversation with his dad, made sense to me. But the thing about clubbing and going out a lot, it is both incredibly euphoric—you’re in a collective place with other people like you—and there can be an edge to it that you can slip off. You can lose your moorings a little bit.

Queer clubbing is so fundamental to that community, and has been for a very, very long time, so I wanted to make sure there was a scene that felt like it was talking about both the highs and lows of what that can be. Plus, it’s a way for me—I don’t go out that much anymore—to go back and remember how I used to feel when I was out in those places.

You’ll have to have a UK opening party at the RVT. That’s what I thought! It’s definitely where there should be [one]—I spent a lot of the late ’90s in that place.'

[shortkingvi]

📖✨Shortkingvi's Fic Hall of Fame✨📖

Since I’ve been a regular fic reader since ~2011, I figure a list like this is long overdue. This is a (semi) comprehensive list of every fic that has irrevocably changed who I am as a person forever. Some of these may not be the most world-altering fic's you've ever read, but for some reason they have wormed their way into my heart and stuck with me since the first time I read them. So, in no particular order and across many fandoms, here are my all time top-10:

1. tin soldiers - idrilka (Marvel Cinematic Universe, rated T, Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes)

Do you need to know the source material? Yes.

this fic... what do i truly say about this one. i am a stucky bitch first and foremost and this is the absolute best of them. a direct companion to captain america: the winter soldier, this fic covers what the public opinion of cap, the plot of the movie, and his relationship with bucky was/is/might be. written as a collection of academic papers, social media posts, and book excerpts, this fic takes unique and unforgettable to a new level. 10/10 would recommend!

2. maybe it's just me - bleedtoloveher (The Hunger Games, rated M, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark)

Do you need to know the source material? Yes, although you could get by knowing the general premise.

this is the first fic i ever remember reading (at like 13 or 14) and boy oh boy did it stick with me. i regularly go back to read this one because it's just... so pure and sweet. an AU where katniss and peeta have been best friends for years and peeta is the only one reaped. upon returning after winning the games, he and katniss must pretend to be in a relationship so that he can protect her from president snow, who is unhappy with peeta. i adore this fic, it's just so lovely.

3. meet me halfway to your heart - ariadnerue (Carmilla, rated T, Carmilla Karnstein/ Laura Hollis)

Do you need to know the source material? No.

i may or may not have a thing for the fake/pretend relationship trope. this one is a fic where carmilla and laura are best friends and the children of two A-list actors. after a pushy dude in a bar won't leave laura alone, she and carm pretend to be in a relationship. of course, the media catches wind of their supposed love and has a field day with it, forcing them to have to pretend they're in love to avoid ruining the release of their parents' new film. this one is so CUTE and a one-shot (albeit 22k words), so it's an easy, sweet read!

4. human interest - mad_lori (Brokeback Mountain, rated E, Ennis Del Mar/Jack Twist)

Do you need to know the source material? Yes, but techincally only the first hour or so, though i think you'd miss out on the catharsis of this by doing so.

no movie truly sticks with me and breaks my heart quite like brokeback, and after a particularly depressing rewatch last year, i stumbled upon this. originally written in 2006, this fic is an AU that imagines what might've happened if ennis had said yes to jack's proposition after ennis' divorce. they open up a cattle operation up in vermont and get their happily ever after. it's slice of life, it's real, it's sweet and cathartic. if you too have been personally victimized by this film, i recommend this more than anything else on this list. it's wonderful. there's a sequel fic that is technically unfinished, but it's 40 chapters and ends on a decent stopping point, so i think that's more than fine.

5. been lovin' you for quite some time - onemilliongoldstars (The 100, rated E, Clarke Griffin/Lexa)

Do you need to know the source material? No.

for some reason i am physically unable to read in canon clexa shit because it hurts too much, so this is an AU. FWB clarke and lexa find themselves spending christmas together and have to pretend they're strangers. it goes about as well as you'd think. read this as a wee baby gay and it means so much to me because of that. clexa truly is my greatest ship of all time, so you can imagine how much this one has stuck with me. an easy, quick, fun read with almost no angst.

6. United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015) - fallingvoices, radialarch (Marvel Cinematic Universe, rated T, Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes)

Do you need to know the source material? Yes.

i didn't want to double dip on this list, but when they're this good, you have no choice. this fic is SO creative. similar to tin soldiers, this fic is formatted in an incredibly creative way! telling the story of bucky's hypothetical trial post winter soldier, this fic is a compilation of court transcripts, news articles, and social media posts. it's stucky at its core, but can also just be enjoyed as a bucky fic. it does an incredible job of holding your attention and truly making you feel like you're a part of this trial. this is the character work we should've gotten for bucky post winter soldier/civil war/endgame/ANYTHING.

7. i-80 west - socallmedaisy (Glee, rated M, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce)

Do you need to know the source material? Yes.

read this one right around the time i was graduating high school and boy oh boy was that the perfect time to read it. brittana roadtrip fic/ last summer in lima fic where they just... go through everything that people go through at that time. i know this one is special to me because of when i read it and what it meant to me, but GOD this one burrowed into the depths of my baby gay trauma brain and has lived there ever since. if you have time, this is a great one. just... yeah.

8. strawberry ice cream (revamped!!!) - banneancroft69 (Ocean's 8, rated E, Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean)

Do you need to know the source material? Yes.

we do ocean's 8 here sir. this one is just truly lovely. unfinished, so be warned, but it doesn't really matter, because it's mostly a timeline of Lou and Debbie's relationship, starting way back at their first meeting. i'm one of the many who believes that lou and debbie canonically had a on again, off again love affair but are ultimately each other's soulmates, and i think this fic does well to kind of tie all that complexity together in a very fresh way. i think about this one a LOT.

9. roll with the punches - greatestchange (Avatar: Legend of Korra, rated M, Korra/Asami Sato)

Do you need to know the source material? No.

godddddd this fic. this SERIES. korra and asami are estranged high school best friends. when asami learns korra's back in town and fighting in an underground fight club, she goes to seek her out and figure out why she left and what she's been up to since. this series is HEAVY, let me preface, and deals with drug abuse, self-destructive tendencies, and overall complicated humans. it will likely be the most difficult read on this list because of this, but it also is one of the most important for me. i related BIG TIME to this version of korra, and it just really is a masterfully crafted series that i cannot say enough about. please give this a read if it sounds like your thing.

10. see your world in traces - spibsy (Professional Wrestling, rated E, Seth Rollins/Dean Ambrose)

Do you need to know the source material? Yes, but a general understanding of wrestling would probably suffice.

burrowing this down at number 10 so no one notices it. seriously though, i find it hard to ever read anything wrestling related because it often veers way too far into RPF territory for me and those lines are muddy enough as is. this one though... this one is fully within kayfabe and just like.. has stuck with me since i was 16 for some reason. it's FCW era ambrollins aka PEAK twunk rollins era, and it's just such a perfect kayfabe explanation for the funky little feud they had at the time. it's genuine and messy and heartfelt and weird and i HAD to include it here if i truly wanted this list to be as honest and correct as i want it to be. if you're at all into wrestling, this is a lovely one that i should probably read again soon.