#this story and these characters mean so much to me

[dduane]

I have been trying to write fic (well, smut) set in a world where certain things are slightly different to serve the fic's plot.

However, each time I try I have run into a problem: my head insists I need to justify the changes - I need to know comprehensive details about how the world works so I can ensure everything is consistent and not too f'd up.

So I get bogged down, and don't write a word. What do?

In your position, I’d sit down and write myself a bible.

This is how I did my prep for Barbie: Fairytopia.* And how I’ve done it for various works of fic presently on AO3… and how I’m doing it right now for the new Sherlock Holmes and the Giant Rats of Sumatra III project. I was taught this art by my animation story editors at Hanna-Barbera, and it’s stood me in good stead. (Peter and I pulled down our first miniseries assignment from a company that told us “we gave great bible.” And that was true.) 😄

When I say “bible” I don’t necessarily mean something that thick! (Though some of mine have been pretty hefty, with one TV project’s bible running more than a hundred pages… because I knew I had skeptical and underinformed TV execs to convince about something historical.) For the kind of purpose we’re describing here, your prep bible could be quite short: maybe looking like a bullet-pointed “shopping list”, five or ten pages long. It can be just as long or short as it needs to be to cover all your salient points.

The idea is simply to put down, in concrete form, a list of the main “different things” you need to know and remember about your alternate universe when you’re working in it. This is where you do your justification work, in as much or as little detail as you need to convince yourself you’ve got the necessary bases covered. The virtual “stage manager” who sits at the back of the theater of the Writing Department in your mind, judging when things are right, will be your guide here, and will advise you as to when you’ve got enough and it’s time to stop. And once this stuff is down on the page, you’ll be a position to judge critically whether everything makes enough sense to work with, and slots together correctly.

This is also a bit like (for the prose part of a project) outlining, in that it’s incredibly freeing. Once you’ve got this background nailed down, you know you can safely turn your attention away from it and get down to the serious business: drama, and the character interactions that express it. (And inevitably as you’re doing the bible writing, you start getting ideas for how the substrate you’re laying down is going to affect the conflicts between and among the characters. The bible stage can be incredibly fruitful this way.)

It would be facile to describe the bibling process as “getting the easy part over with first”. Because sometimes it’s not easy! But it’s worth doing first, because having done this first relieves you of the ongoing anxiety caused by knowing you may have to keep inventing or rationalizing stuff on the fly. (Which can produce the kind of micro-blocks that a writer can generally really do without.) …Not that you’re not going to be inventing things on the fly anyway: that’s a normal part of the writing process. But the biggest and most obvious issues will have been handled already, and you’ll know they have; which is always a weight off one’s mind. And the fewer of those weights you have loading you down, when you’re in the midst of the labor of composition, the better.

Anyway, give it a shot and see how it works for you. And then you can, like the rest of us smut writers, get on to the really pressing business: making sure you haven’t lost track of where all the characters’ arms and legs (and things) are when you’re writing those hot steamy sex scenes. 😏

Hope this helps!

*ETA: My remit on this job did include creating a bible for them. But I write a rough-draft one for myself first, including various meta that I needed but they didn't.

[foenixed]

Hey, my two interests (comic books and transgenderism) are aligned! I'd like to take this opportunity to inform people a little about why her creation of Black Lightning was so important and made her, despite the honestly relatively small number of comics she's written, so influential.

So, the year is 1977 and there aren't many black superheroes at the Big Two (Marvel and DC). Black Panther was the first, introduced in 1966, then Falcon (1969), Black Racer (1971), John Stewart/Green Lantern (1972), Luke Cage (1972) (who also took the title for first Black character to have their own series), Storm (1975) and Bumblebee (1976). Prexisting civilian character Bill Foster was made into Black Goliath (1975) and Mal Duncan into the Guardian (1976). Notably, the writer who turned Bill Foster into a superhero is also the star of this story, Jenny Blake Isabella.

For those keeping track, that's 5 characters at Marvel and 4 at DC. But DC had another problem, and that is that their few black characters are less notable than Marvel's. Black Racer had only really appeared as a side character in a miniseries, Bumblebee and Guardian were part of the failing Teen Titans series and didn't even make 10 appearances before its cancellation, and John Stewart had only appeared in 4 stories, AND he was stuck playing second fiddle because the main Green Lantern was Hal Jordan. They needed a black superhero. They needed a headliner.

Enter Black... Bomber? As has since been revealed, Black Lightning wasn't originally going to be Black Lightning. No. DC had a much worse idea in mind, which Isabella referred to as "Easily one of the most offensive concepts I had ever seen."

As she explained in the foreword to the 2015 Black Lightning TPB:

“During my exclusive arrangement with Marvel, I kept thinking about creating a new African-American hero. I wanted a character to whom our young readers could relate, a character who would inspire them as Superman and Captain America had inspired me. Unexpectedly, a DC editorial misstep gave me that opportunity. DC purchased two scripts for a planned new series called The Black Bomber. The hero, who would be their first "black" character to star in his own title, was a white racist Vietnam vet, who, as a result of taking part in chemical experiments to allow soldiers to blend in better with the jungle, turned into a black supehero in moments of stress. It gets worse. In each of the two well-intentioned scripts, the hero would, in his white racist persona, save a person he couldn't see clearly and, on finding out the person was black, exclaim something along the lines of- and this is a quote- "You mean I risked my life to save a jungle bunny?" And it gets worse. His superhero suit, such as it was, looked for all the world like a basketball uniform. Sweet Christmas!”

“DC wanted me to rewrite those two scripts and go solo on The Black Bomber with the third issue. I begged them to reconsider. It took some time, but I convinced them to consign the Bomber to limbo with the ultimate question: "Do you want your first black superhero to be a white bigot?" Common sense prevailed.”

And prevail it did. In only three weeks, Isabella invented a completely new character to replace the Black Bomber: the man called Jefferson Pierce, aka Black Lightning.

“I returned to my Cleveland roots for three weeks and came back to the DC offices with Jefferson Pierce. He was a teacher because, in a moment of clarity, I realized the one thing the vast majority of our readers had in common was that they all had gone/were going to school. He was based in an urban setting because I had become more political since starting my career and those were the stories I wanted to tell…and still do. He was an Olympic athlete because logic told me he had to have some sort of edge that was not the result of science or mutation.”

“The only thing I didn't have for my new character was a superhero name. Jeff and I found that name in the office of legendary editor Julius Schwartz. On Julie's wall, I spotted a Wonder Woman cover in which she was attempting to lasso a "black lightning bolt" while shouting, "Hera help me stop this Black Lightning before it splits this building in two!" Black Lightning. It sounded very cool to me, and Jeff liked it too. Neither one of us remembered it had also been the name of Western hero Johnny Thunder's horse.”

Not bad for a three week turnaround.

[yuu-kantokusei]

Valentine's Day❤️❤️❤️

Third year version

Characters: Cater, Trey, Leona, Vil, Rook, Idia, Malleus, Lilia

TW: cute, fluff, wholesome

♦️Cater Diamond

Cater kicks off Valentine's Day with an energetic selfie spree, dragging you along for the ride. "Come on~! We need at least twenty cute pics for my Magicam story!"

But amidst all the fun, he suddenly pulls out a small heart-shaped box. Inside is a delicate charm bracelet, each charm representing something meaningful—your dorm, a tiny camera, even a little cupcake. "I saw these and thought of you! Cute, right?"

As you admire the gift, he gives you a rare, softer smile. "You make my days way more fun, y’know? Hope you stick around, my fave little Valentine~!"

♣️Trey Clover

Trey surprises you with a special Valentine’s treat—an entire cake, personalized with your name in icing. "Made this just for you," he says, placing it in front of you. "Hope you like it"

As you share the cake, he hands you a small, elegant box. Inside is a silver spoon engraved with your initials. "Figured you could use a good luck charm" he says with a chuckle.

The rest of the afternoon is spent in quiet comfort, baking together in the Heartslabyul kitchen. "Valentine’s isn’t just about romance," he says thoughtfully. "It’s about appreciation too. And I really appreciate you."

🦁Leona Kingscholar

Leona acts like he doesn't care about Valentine’s Day, but when you find a wrapped package on your desk, his scent lingers on it. Inside is a soft, high-quality scarf.

Later, when you go to thank him, you find him lounging under a tree. "Took you long enough to notice," he mutters, eyes half-lidded. "You’re always runnin’ around in the cold. Don’t want you gettin’ sick."

He lazily tugs you down to sit beside him, resting his head in your lap. "Since you’re here, might as well stay. Ain’t got nothin’ better to do than nap with my favorite herbivore." His tail flicks, betraying how much he enjoys your company.

👑Vil Schoenheit

Vil presents you with a beautifully wrapped gift the moment he sees you. Inside is a set of luxury skincare items tailored to your needs. "A beauty as radiant as you deserves proper care," he says with a pleased smile.

He then takes you to a private rooftop dinner, where everything is curated for aesthetics and elegance. As the sun sets, he studies your face. "Out of all the things I strive for, your happiness is one I truly wish to see."

Before you leave, he carefully applies a bit of lip balm to your lips. "Can’t have you walking around with chapped lips, darling," he teases, but his touch lingers a second too long.

🏹Rook Hunt

Rook approaches you with a flourish, handing you a handwritten letter sealed with wax. "Mon trésor, today is a day to celebrate the beauty of devotion! And so, I dedicate this poem to you!"

His words are grand, poetic, and filled with admiration, making your face heat up. Before you can respond, he presents a beautifully carved wooden bow. "A hunter must always cherish their most valuable companion. Let this be a symbol of our bond!"

He then whisks you away on a nature walk, pointing out the beauty in everything—from the way the wind moves to the way your eyes light up when you smile.

🎮Idia Shroud

Idia avoids you all day, only for Ortho to deliver a wrapped box on his behalf. Inside is a limited-edition plush from your favorite game. There’s also a shaky, handwritten note:

"Happy Valentine’s. Don’t make this weird."

Later, you manage to find him hiding in his room, his hair glowing pink. "Ugh, I knew you’d come looking for me," he groans. "I mean… I guess it’s cool that you liked the gift or whatever."

Despite his grumbling, he lets you stay, the two of you gaming together late into the night. At one point, he mumbles under his breath, "This… isn’t so bad."

🐉Malleus Draconia

Malleus appears before you at midnight, inviting you for a walk under the stars. He gestures to the sky, where countless glowing wisps float around you. "I wished to give you a sight as enchanting as you are," he says softly.

He then hands you a beautifully crafted pendant in the shape of a dragon. "This holds a minor enchantment," he explains. "Should you ever need me, it will guide me to you."

As you stare in awe, he gazes at you with quiet intensity. "I have lived many years, yet this is the first Valentine’s I have truly cherished. Because I spend it with you."

🦇Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia starts the day by pranking you with a questionable batch of homemade chocolates. "What? It’s the thought that counts!" he laughs as you gag.

But later, he surprises you with a beautifully played violin piece, dedicating the melody to you. "Music is the language of the heart," he says, eyes twinkling. "And my heart sings for you."

His real gift, however, is a small, enchanted music box. When opened, it plays a soft lullaby. "A tune to remind you that you are always loved," he says, patting your head fondly.

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ friends forever

summary: a beaded competition for yuu's affections type of post: drabbles characters: all students additional info: platonic or romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, based on an ask I got a while ago, fluffy, predictable sappy ending

Word travels fast at Night Raven College.

Gossip, secrets, whispers exchanged in the darkened halls, from student to professor, to professor to ghost, to student again.

The Ramshackle Prefect was beaming, bright as the dawn itself on Monday morning, a string of blue plastic beads on one arm. They seldom smiled so much, and for good reason- but Monday, they were glowing, holding out their wrist, and telling anyone who would listen about the gift their "best friend" had given them. It was an enthralling sight.

Deuce Spade, the poor, sweet boy, had become patient zero.

Word travels faster at Night Raven College when it's about the Prefect.

Deuce Spade had claimed title of best friend with a string and sixteen translucent plastic beads, something that made Ace Trappola itch. He didn't care! He didn't! Of course, he stayed up all night, trying and failing and trying again, to tie the tiny knot on a black-and-red beaded bracelet. But that didn't mean he cared!

It's on your arm, right above Deuce's, on Tuesday.

"Thank you, Ace!" you had smiled, announcing it to the entire unbirthday party. "You really are my best friend!"

Ace looked over his shoulder to smugly grin at his dormmates. "Aww, this old thing? It's nothing, just thought your wrist looked a little lonely with only one,"

It was a rather strange sight: the housewarden of Heartslabyul, his scepter and crown set to the side, his back hunched as he strung black, red, and gold beads over his desk that night. Riddle Rosehearts marched over to you first thing in the morning, set his bracelet in your waiting palm, and marched away, his face redder than his hair.

Trey Clover had forgotten all about homework, promising Deuce two week's worth of dish duty in exchange for beads and string. Forest green and black. He was too shy to give it to you himself, and left it at your doorstep in a basket of tea leaves and leftover tart. It smells of vanilla.

Cater Diamond made sure to snap a pic of his bracelet on your arm, black, red, and orange beads, with his and your initials right next to each other. "#BFFs #besties"

His Magicam story was viewed over 6,000 times.

...Mostly by the same people, over and over.

Ruggie Bucchi had a different take on the situation. See, he didn't have the kinda cash to spend on beads and string and fancy charms, and so you wore a striking dandelion crown to your classes on Thursday morning.

Jack Howl braided you a simple, brown-stringed band to wear on your wrist or ankle or wherever you liked it. You had told him you loved it, rumor said.

Then, all came to a halt.

Word spread that Leona Kingscholar had tried gifting you an expensive, golden-beaded bracelet from his home, (one that would haven taken up half your forearm), and you had refused it. You couldn't possibly accept such a nice gift, you said.

You would, as it seemed, only accept handmade friendship bracelets.

Kalim al-Asim kept Jamil Viper up all night, weaving and unweaving, beading and unbeading, doing and redoing and redoing again, until he had perfected your friendship bracelet in all colors of the rainbow. Little did he know that Jamil had already given you one that afternoon. It smelled of spices, giving away the fact that he had made it in between cooking meals.

Azul Ashengrotto told his staff he was taking a morning off to study, went to the beach, and collected shells in every shape and color. He strung them on black fishing line, and smiled as he gave them to you, free of charge. "Just something to remember me by when I'm away," he said, his face redder than it felt.

Floyd Leech had started one, but became bored of the tedious beading after ten minutes and decided to dedicate his next basketball win to you instead. Jade Leech finished it, and, while his brother was distracted, lined the teal-and-black striped beads with mushroom-shaped charms.

Vil Schoenheit never half-asses anything, friendship bracelet or not. He would do most anything to hear those sweet words of thanks on your lips (not that he'd admit it), even if that means taking hours out of his busy schedule to dye white yarn in wine and weave it with his gilded initials and red, bejeweled hearts. He likes seeing himself on you.

Rook Hunt, ever the nonconformist, fashions you a necklace out of broken bow strings and an arrowhead from his favorite quiver. He puts it on you himself, his fingers brushing against your throat and lingering on the back of your neck for a moment too long, as if enjoying the feeling of your heartbeat.

But Epel Felmier outdoes them all.

For on Friday morning, you come to class with a bracelet of lavender-painted wooden beads, his initials carved into the soft oak, and he comes in wearing the same bracelet, but with yours.

How had no one thought to make a matching one for themselves???

Idia Shroud 3D prints a bracelet in your favorite color, and Ortho Shroud engraves the flat surface with your favorite characters... they make two more for themselves, as if in a sort of secret club. It gives Idia quite the thrill to think about, though he'd never say it.

Sebek Zigvolt hmphs at the idea of showing such loyalty to a mere human, until Silver and Lilia Vanrouge return from an early morning stroll with baskets of acorns, flowers, and pine nuts for bracelet-making. Sebek and Silver both make theirs in earthy wooden tones and shimmering shades of rose and violet. Lilia sneaks in a few animal teeth and bone fragments. For good luck.

Malleus Draconia, tedious as it is, spends his Sunday morning spinning his own string, and lining it with beads, tiny in his hands, and small pieces of smooth glass and stone from Ramshackle. He gifts it to you with a blessing, a promise of your eternal friendship, in this world and the next.

By the end of the week, your arms are heavy with beads, shells, stone, nuts, flowers, and charms, covered from wrist to elbow. You can't move without sounding like a wind chime, jingling and clinking with each step.

Your friends eagerly await your praises, not-so-subtly asking which bracelet is your favorite, or, frankly, who is your best friend?

You promise an answer soon.

Thus, on Monday morning, you arrive with only one bracelet.

Sloppily made, in soft blues and grays, with the cut-out logo of a tuna can label stuck to your wrist, and a smiling Grim holding the hand beneath it.

[bokutoko]

2/14

character: atsumu miya (timeskip!atsumu)

wc: 1.4k

cw: valentine’s day (barf), alcohol, cussing, kinda sorta uni!au (uni!reader x msby!atsumu), slight feelings of inadequacy (reader), they kith💋, atsumu thinks the L-word

pt. 2(ish?) to 7/11

Valentine's Day... also known as your least favorite day of the year (besides your birthday, but that’s a whole different story). The holiday made popular by monetizing the idea of setting aside only one day out of the year to show how much you love your partner, with all the godforsaken life-sized teddy bears and dozens of balloons, and all the mediocre chocolate and overpriced flowers. A cock of shit was what it was—someone should not be loved just one day out of the year. 

Of course, its only significance to you was being a milestone to remind yourself how painfully single you were.

But you weren't bitter. Not at all. Not. One. Bit.

The kicker, though? It almost felt like you didn't even want anybody. The mere idea of dating someone—a person you probably didn’t even know at the time and probably (not so) secretly a piece of shit—made you so nauseous that swearing relationships off altogether seemed more tempting as the days passed...

But alas, the small, hopeless romantic peeking through the rose-tinted lenses of your heart unfortunately held out for something beautiful one day... Maybe not for a prince, but a knight in shining armor. Maybe not a man to sweep you off your feet, but instead one willing to help you pick up the pieces when it felt like everything was falling apart at your feet. 

"Maybe I'll just die an old spinster.”

"C'mon, it can't be that bad," Atsumu's Kansai dialect filtered through your headphones as you walked across campus to your morning class. He’d called, asking if you had any fun plans for the night, fully knowing you didn’t.

“There’s carnations and balloons all over campus. It looks like one of those my little ponies took a dump all over the place."

"But ‘m sure them carnations are pretty. Maybe you'll get one from a guy or somethin’."

"I think I'd rather die," you gagged.

A laugh filled your ears, and everything felt okay–what a nice sound to hear. But after feeling your heart do the thing, you quickly shook it off.

It was strange how for years now, it sometimes made you feel all weirdly warm and tingly when Atsumu laughed with you (even sometimes when he laughed at you).

It was best to not even entertain that notion.

"Well, gotta go, 'm at class," you sighed loudly for dramatic effect, "Maybe I'll go bitch to 'Samu later about my woes and personal vendettas. y’know, since you hate me."

Atsumu found himself smiling at your childish whining. "You mean ‘cause I'll be at practice?"

"Same thing."

“Fuck you too,” he grumbled with a scoff, not an ounce of actual annoyance in his voice, “Bye, nerd.”

A small smile made its way onto your face at his jabs. That was how it always was with Atsumu, ever since you two were in high school together. The both of you always shat on each other, knowing there was never any heat in your malicious words. It was nice, being able to feel safe with someone, to feel comfortable enough to be yourself and unapologetically bully your best friend.

As you prepped for lecture, your mind wandered, constantly circling back to your partner in crime. With every moment that passed, you quickly came to realize that Atsumu always only judged you a little bit with your (sometimes questionable) decisions, keeping it real with you while ultimately supporting you and being one of your biggest cheerleaders. Because all he wanted was to see you succeed. All he wanted was to see you happy.

You felt your face heat up just from thinking about him. 

For fuck’s sake—

While it was nice to attempt to delude yourself into thinking something could ever happen, you were easily able to convince yourself that this strange… crush was most likely unrequited.

This was Atsumu. Your Atsumu. He deserved the world.

And yet, you were just… you.

Time seemed to pass as slow as humanly possible: all your classes droning on, your exam sucking the life out of you, your professors assigning loads of busywork for the weekend ahead. The walk back to your cramped, overpriced shithole apartment was bustling with people: couples going on dinner dates, partners buying last minute gifts, and the occasional groups of galentines. Thankfully, your roommates all had plans with loved ones or already left for the weekend, so you had the entire place to yourself to sulk!

Turning the key and walking inside, you were slapped in the face with color. The common room area was decorated with a couple red heart balloons and… a pink “happy birthday” balloon floating around?

Your eyes honed in on Atsumu standing in the middle of the living room, holding another pink happy birthday balloon.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. Y’have no idea how hard it is to find last minute stuff,” Atsumu sighed with a sheepish grin, "and I know it ain’t your birthday, but it was pink—a-and the color kinda matches, so…”

‘What was he talking about?’ he thought to himself, ‘oh god, please shut up.’

And the epiphany came crashing down upon you that maybe you never actually hated Valentine’s Day, you just wanted someone to love you every day, not just for one day of the year. You looked over to the chocolates on the counter and the flowers perched in a vase next to them—it was your favorite everything. On display before you was your favorite dessert, your favorite flowers, your favorite person—

“‘Tsumu…” you struggled to find the right words, “What is all this?”

He just shrugged, hiding the flush to his cheeks by scratching the back of his neck. “Ya’ve been all down in the dumps that you’re single ‘n shit, so i got some chocolates, some box wine, and ‘Samu’s hulu logged in so we can rot on the couch and watch anything ya want tonight.” 

Atsumu watched you break out in the biggest smile, almost splitting your face in two, and god, he knew he loved you.

You swiped a box of chocolates off the counter. “You know me too well.”

He returned your smile with one of his own, so handsomely crooked. “I know.”

As the hours passed, empty boxes of chocolates were scattered on the table, along with half-drank glasses from a second round of wine. The two of you devolved into sharing a blanket that was definitely too small for the both of you, resulting in you two occasionally tugging on it and grumbling, “gimme.”

“Woulda thought you’d have plans tonight,” you commented as an ad played on the TV, your voice attempting to sound as casual as possible.

He hummed, feigning nonchalance as well. “I do. I’m here, ain’t I?”

You actively couldn’t stop the snort that escaped you. “Be serious, ‘Tsumu.”

“What, can I not make my own kind of plans?” he huffed in reply.

“I meant a date, ‘Tsumu. Y’know, with a girl ya like.”

He hesitated, feeling slightly deflated by her response. “Yeah…?” His voice was uncharacteristically… soft. It may had just been the alcohol talking, but Atsumu wondered if the taste of your lips, now stained a soft pink, was any better than the vino you two shared.

The air in the room suddenly felt way too warm, and you could feel your face flush as you just silently stared at him, like you were some brainless neanderthal. You swallowed, only just now realizing how close the two of you were—no longer tugging on the blanket but practically cuddling. You felt the warmth of his thigh against your own, and you swore you could die right there on the spot, melting right into a puddle of goo. 

Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “Yeah.”

His eyes lazily bounced back and forth between yours, searching for something, and he let out a sigh. “Yer the smartest person I’ve ever known, but God, you can be so damn stupid sometimes.”

Before you had the chance to fire an insult back, you felt a pair of lips on yours, the movements gentle yet nervous. It was instinctual, bordering embarrassing, how fast you melted into the kiss. His tongue tasted of white chocolate truffles and red wine, the heady mixture causing you to let out the softest sigh in his mouth. Atsumu's hands gently cupped your jaw, his thumbs gently running along your cheekbones until his brain finally caught up to his actions.

He pulled away and watched you almost chase his lips, your eyes still fluttering with your skin bathed in the soft lamplight of the room. He quietly whispered, “Sorry, I–”

“Don’t you dare apologize, you dumbass. Just kiss me again.”

And you didn’t have to tell him twice. 

a/n: happy valentine’s day to all the happy couples and all the single people out there—single or not, here’s some atsumu to feed the delulu <33

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please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2025.

[legalandnotease]

@rebelsabers

Millady the perpetually offended. Let me make this very VERY clear do you.

Knowing some abuse survivors does not mean you know a thing about the actual experience of abuse surivivors. Do you not get experience by osmosis.

Saying "some of my best friends are" does not mean you know a single freaking thing about, for example victim-blaming and how common it is for abuse survivors and traumatized people to be subjected to such things.

The reason we object to the writers of shows like Tha Falcon and the Winter Soldier and Cap 4 retconning Bucky's backstory is because they are very deliberately doing it to make him look like less of a victim.

They are very intentionally taking the parts of his story that underscore how he was victimized and changing them to say that not only was he not victimized but he *wanted* what happened to him. That he consented to it, and was a willing participant.

Like saying that he took the serum willngly: if they repeat that lie often enough, people wil believe it, and they do. It will soon become the accepted canon.

and it isn’t about invalidating Bucky’s trauma

It is and has been since 2021, because that is the only way the writers think they can make Sam look like the ultimate victim- the person who suffered more than anyone who ever lived. That is the only way they think they can build him up: by pulling another character down.

It is a very concious effort to rewrite history- and it is being done for one purpose alone: to build up Sam at his expense.

We’ve already seen Bucky’s arc in The First Avenger, The Winter Soldier, Civil War, Infinity War, Endgame, and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

Utter garbage, and you know it.

In all these movies and the TV show in particular Bucky had a supporting role. He was used as a prop to other characters. In The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, especially, we were told he would be given a satisfying story arc about PTSD recovery.

Instead what we got was a lecture full of victim-blaming after 5 Episodes in which he'd had nothng but jokes at the expense of the major disabled/traumatized character and abuse survivor and constant bashing over the head with the message of how priveleged he was and how everyone else had it worse.

4 hours solid of being told that he was not a victim, he was just wallowing in self-pity and needed to stop lying to himself about not being to blame. For 4 hours solid we were told he was doing it all wilingly the entire time (just like abuse victims are told they wanted it/bought it on themselves). We were also subjected to the hideous scene, played for laughs in which he was "sold" to Selby with all the not-so-subtle undertones about SA which that included.

For it to culminate in Sam, the person who he looked up to and admired to tell him the only way to heal from his trauma was to *checks notes* - ah yes.... take responsibility for his own victimization as if he alone were responsible for all the evil wrought at the hand of HYDRA and apologize to all the other victims.

Who the heck thought that was a respecful or sensitive depiction of trauma recovery? Oh yeah- Malcolm Spellman and Kori Skogland.

He’s had plenty of screen time and emotional exploration. Sam has not.

Sam has had more *MUCH MORE* than Bucky.

The reason why you don't think Bucky deserves to have a character arc of his own, or any more attention devoted to him as a character is bacause you see him merely as Sam's accessory/love interest.

Or as just another white man. Not as a character beloved of traumatized people, disabled peoplle, and abuse survivors and many others who *crave* proper representation.

Who see in his character echoes of the kind of systematic oppression we have had to endure for centuries: from being experiemted on his is analogous to the eugenics movement, and his ECT which parallels the way people with PTSD were once tortured in insitutions, to how mental illness is still viewed today. The "mad, bad and dangerous" stereotype which he has been pushed into. Especially in the Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

We want to see him given the screen time he deserves because we want him to come into his own as a hero: which can never happen if he is a mere prop to Steve, Sam, Yelena or whoever else.

...and yes, we are sick and tired of the messaging delivered to us through the treatment of his character on screen that we wanted and chose what happened to us. That it was our fault. That we deserved it.

No, Bucky Barnes would not agree with you: or he might purely because he's been conditioned by victim-blamng and self-loathing for so long. Which is another thing the abuse survivors among us can identify with. It does not make him, or you, correct.

"Sam, you are not going to believe how exponentially badly my day is going."

"Probably not as badly as mine, Buck"

[yuurei20]

Do you have information about Ramshackle dorm itself? Whether it be a character's opinions on it, or any history/lore from Crowley along the way through the main story/events? I know we don't know a lot about the dorm itself (I think that's intentional, as to leave interpretation up to the player), but combing through the whole story for lore has been difficult for me. Thank you in advance for your efforts and time. :>

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 🏚

You are very right that we do not seem to have very much information about Ramshackle Dorm!

For characters' opinions we know that Malleus is fond of it (he likes abandoned ruins in general (more here ->)), and Crowley is maybe more ambivalent? He has a dialogue line referring to it as a "dilapidated old--" and then self-corrects to say, "historic building."

As for why it was abandoned, the ghosts who live there say that everyone got scared of them and ran away, which Crowley confirms.

This is a curious explanation as ghosts are regular staff members at the school with none of the students seeming frightened of them--if anything, the chef ghosts are more afraid of Lilia than any of the students are of them.

While searching for information that may have been missed, I found this fascinating theory from 2020 that Yen Sid from Fantasia could be the founder of NRC as the counterpart to Merlin (who may have inspired RSA’s Ambrose) and possibly the person who appointed Crowley as headmage.

The video creator guesses that Ramshackle is even older than Pomefiore (otherwise confirmed as the oldest dorm) as it was built alongside the school itself rather than being established in a pocket dimension like the other dorms.

As acknowledged in vol. 1 of the Official Fanbook, Ramshackle has taken a lot of inspiration from the 1936 Mickey Mouse animation “Thru the Mirror.”

And Snow White, the basis for Pomefiore? Was released a year later in 1937 👀

We have a comment from Trey that the dorms were constructed in order of Pomefiore -> Heartslabyul -> Diasomnia (which corresponds to those movies' years of release), but no mention of Ramshackle 📝

(Maybe irrelevant, but the Japanese-language title of the “Thru the Mirror” animation is 「ミッキーの夢物語」, which means close to “The Story of Mickey’s Dream.”)

But if Yen Sid is the founder of the school, wouldn't he have a statue or something? And was he not particularly villainous? And why is Ramshackle not treated with more respect by Crowley, at least, who is presumably the one person who knows what it used to be?

To explain this the creator of the video above suggests that maybe NRC was not always a villain school: at some point there was maybe a shift of power from Yen Sid to someone else, who decided to go in a different direction.

This included a renovation that removed things from its previous incarnation like references to Yen Sid and abandoning Ramshackle as a relic of what the school once was.

We know that Azul looked through the past 100 years of exam questions in Book 3, the same amount of time that NRC’s student selection process has been in use, the same amount of time that NRC has been losing all competitions to RSA, the same time that STYX was established…what exactly happened 100 years ago? 👀

A ghost mentions being the captain of a spelldrive team back when he was still alive 90 years in the past, so at least one of Ramshackle's ghosts moved in after whatever that event was.

The video creator proposes that that is when the school shifted its focus to the powers of darkness, only admitting students with those particular traits and no longer accepting students who would have been sorted into Ramshackle Dorm.

They ask, is it possible that the prefect is someone who would have been sorted into Ramshackle like the students of the past if the school had not shifted gears? Is the prefect actually where they are supposed to be, just 100 years too late? 📝

Whatever it is that happened 100 years ago, whatever secret it is about Crowley that Azul may or may not hold—the video creator guesses that Ramshackle Dorm is the key!

We just do not know the key to what 🔑

[str4ngr]

will you be mine?

cw: fluff, various character and different fandoms, gn! reader. synopsis: dates that they would take you on for valentines day <3 notes: making me jealous of ppl who don't even exist, bruh. divider by @bernardsbendystraws.

dinner. the rom-com, perfect night with a flutter of laughter in the air. soft, flickering light of candles as the aroma of dinner wafted in the air. the gentle clatter of utensils and plates, the murmur of other couples and patrons around you. even with such company, it was as though only the two of you existed, your eyes never leaving each other, your cheeks flushed with shy smiles. the food, although delicious, was secondary to the sweetness of conversation, of the connection that blossomed as the night progressed. neither of you wanted the night to end, for the tingle of love that made your cheeks ache with grins to leave.

⋆˚࿔ geto suguru, higuruma hiromi, reo mikage, micheal kaiser, kita shinsuke, oikawa toru, malleus draconia, john price.

movies. cuddled, wrapped, and warm in each others arms, a thick, soft blanket tucked under your bums as your breaths mingle together, the familiar setting of home making the night all. the more comforting. your eyes are trained on the bright light of the t.v., the dramatic dialogue, music, and intense plot making you gasp together, whispering to each other, trying to predict the plot. your hands intertwined, squeal at the plot twist, limbs flailing out as he groans when you accidentally knee him, your apology a hushed giggle as the movie continues to rumble in the background. he laughed and shook his head, scolding your chaos as you both huddled back together, continuing your occasional conspiracies on the plot and reactions to every twist and turn of the story.

⋆˚࿔ toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, yuuji itadori, meguru bachira, tendou satori, kuroo tetsuro, isagi yoichi, sukuna ryomen, simon 'ghost' riley.

baking. he never knew that baking could be so utterly chaotic. seriously, why was there flour across the table, on the floor, and all over his... butt? you laughed behind him, and his bum stung as he deadpanned, slowly turning around to glare at you. his gaze softened, no matter how hard he tried to scold you, his lips twitching into an affectionate smile as he threw a sprinkle of flour at you. you squealed just as the oven rang, ready to be loaded with cookies, muffins, and more galore. he hesitantly turned back around, brushing off the hand-print that stained his sleep pants, quickly pushing the pans into the oven. turning back to face you, he rolled his eyes again, playfully fighting with you as he tugged your hand from the bowl of brownie batter—not that he ate some as soon as you turned away—smiling into your flour-y hairline.

⋆˚࿔ nanami kento, shoei barou, ryuisei shido (he would throw the whole bag and spank you back), bokuto kotarou, leona kingscholar, johnny 'soap' mctavish.

museum. shoulder to shoulder, you walked through the expansive, slightly chilly, room, pausing every couple steps to gaze at the displays. his hand squeezed yours occasionally, his voice low and breathy as he explained small details about big pieces and their even larger meaning. he listened to you as you talked about the ones your recognized and understood. your shoes softly clicked in unison as you went room to room, taking the occasional photo of an absolutely enthralling piece. you weren't silent, but the quiet company of each other was more than enough, the feeling of your weight leaning against his should as you took a break. the way he rolled his eyes as he took your bag, carrying it without shame no matter how much he was 'reluctant' about it. he adored how you gushed over a exhibit that you particularly loved, his eyes momentarily stopping on it, before turning back to you.

⋆˚࿔ megumi fushiguro, hyoma chigiri, sae itoshi, hajime iwaizumi, kyle 'gaz' gerrick.

aquarium. there was a pep in your step as you two walked together, eyes wide as you gasped and pointed, pressing close to the glass as you two tried to find the fish the little plaque beside the glass spoke of so eloquently. ooh-ing and aah-ing over the strange and beautiful creatures that swam around you. walking through the tunnel was ethereal. the deep blue glow from the aquarium lightly tinting your skin his eyes stuck to your face, barely able to comprehend your words as you read of the placard about that specific tank of fish. his arm wrapped around you waist as the both of you walked through the dimly lit indoors, slow smiles creeping onto you lips while pointing out fish you recognized from previous tanks. oh, and don't even get started on the petting pool.

⋆˚࿔ choso kamo, yuta okkotsu, rensuke kunigami, rin itoshi, seishiro nagi, wakatoshi ushijima, akaashi keiji.

notes: mmm some of these kinda dont fit but like... you can just twist it a little in you head; there was a vision, promise.

[alwaysless]

Fellow William analyst, greetings! I hope you are well, I hope you don't mind a question/ask.

I am curious about your thoughts on the lack of reaction we see of Will at the "one life" reveal at the dinner scene, if you haven't already shared your thoughts before! We know Annabel wasn't shocked, but what about Will?

It took me longer to answer than I thought, sorry

I'm not sure I can say anything new, but yes, it's pretty damn suspicious. The composition of the frame stylized as broken glass, makes it easy to draw Will with everyone, and a frame later we see him with other panicking students, so RnF didn't show his reaction quite intentionally.

But I also want to talk about his behavior further. In the next episode, Will doesn't behave the way you expect him to. Given his weak-willed personality, it seems like he should be scared and overwhelmed by the prospect of a survival game (like Morella for example) but he's confused at best, and moreover, confused by everyone else's reactions. He even tries to justify the deans, basically gaslighting the rest of the students.

Will is not afraid, but he does not understand why others are. I have only two possible explanations: either he knew, or he just doesn't care, just like Annabel. Or maybe both.

Maybe he has played these games before. Maybe he doesn't plan to fight for a second life (at least not in Nevermore, again just like Annabel). Maybe because he is somehow connected with the academic staff with all his doll aesthetic, there is no second life for him in general, he just works there. There are many options, but here I would prefer to focus on his parallels with Annabel - two characters whose reactions we don't see in this frame.

This is actually not the only scene where they are absent, contrary to common sense. In episode 6 we see the merit board for the first time. Most of the names on it are blurred, but some can be distinguished. Among them are Lenore, Annabel, Duke, Morella, Ada, Prospero and Will. All of them, except Annabel and Will, are present in the room at this moment.

I wouldn't have paid much attention to this scene if it weren't for Prospero. Why is he there? He doesn't speak a single line, and we haven't been introduced to him as a character yet. His presence here is useless. So maybe the idea really was for all the characters whose names were visible on the board to be in the scene(or at least have already been introduced, like Annabel).

So what about Will? My main problem with shapeshifter characters is that they can be anyone, anywhere, at any point in the story. Especially if they can also create their own copies. He could have already been introduced and we just didn't notice.

Now let's talk about the games these kids love to play so much. We know that Annabel is a talented chess player, and Montresor constantly uses card game slang. But did you know that it was William Wilson from Poe's original story who was a cardsharper? I just think it's such an interesting detail. Nevermore`s Will has never been seen like this, but considering how much of a board game aesthetic this webtoon has, I think it's important to note this.

And finally, there is a similarity that also makes them very different: both Annabel and Will have ribbons as an essential symbol, but it has a completely opposite meaning for each of them. For Annabel, the ribbons are a symbol of madness, fear, and perhaps her golden cage. It appears in her hallucinations after Lenore's fake death, as well as when Ada shows her her main fear.

Will, on the other hand? The ribbons are his weapon. He uses them to tangle other people. Curious, although his spectre is obviously a marionette, he doesn't have a control bar for strings, he controls the strings himself (not always successful but still).

No matter how weak-willed Will is, he's the only one in Annabel's group who isn't influenced by her. She blackmails Montresor, Prospero respects her as a leader and friend, Ada admires and envies her. But she doesn't have anything on Will. In the chess allegory, he will obviously be a pawn (and I`ll write a whole post about it, I swear), but not Annabel's pawn. I have an idea that sooner or later, Montresor will think of using Will to find dirt on Annabel in revenge. After all, given their spectre abilities, it's easier for them to find out lenabel's secret.

So, let's summarize what we found. Absolutely nothing. This post turned out to be longer than I had planned, because I was a little carried away, but I hope you found something interesting for yourself in this stream of thoughts.

Here, take funny little Will everyone. He deserves to be noticed.

[constantfragmentation]

Agreed.

Do I believe Vander blames himself, that he wronged Silco? Yes, I do. But he really doesn't do much beyond extended a weak olive branch to a trusted friend that he just tried to kill. It wasn't a fight that got out of hand, he tried to kill him.

I don't know about anyone else, but I'm sure as hell not going to seek my attempted murderer out afterwards to 'reconcile'. Yeah, no. Silco isn't going to the their special place in the mines, the Drop or anywhere else in FEAR he may run into his attacker and die the next time.

Let's also not forget, the Felica reason is really stupid. He lost his head? The writing is so weak here. Silco and Vander's break seemed more profound than an accidental death of a mutual friend. People get hurt and die in revolts. They had to know there would be casualties or why bother with revolting against Enforcers, who are heavily armed?

Also, if we use a vague timeline between the Day of Ash, Silco recovering from extensive injuries mentally, emotionally and physically, to the point in Arcane S1E1, WHERE... Vander and Benzo make the comment of 'there are worse things than Enforcers out there" meaning Silco and immediately painting him as the big baddie in the first episode.

So, by the age of the kids supposedly on the Day of Ash and then in Ep1, Vander had YEARS to try and contact Silco. They lived in the Underground, know the same people. There's not exactly an infinite places to stay hidden. Vander and Benzo clearly know Silco is operating in the Undercity.

You can't tell me in all those YEARS, Vander couldn't have made the effort to actually contact Silco and clear shit up. He chose not to and continued painting his 'brother' as a bad guy. For someone who 'never forgave himself', he sure didn't make an effort to find his brother. His effort was the weakest ever.

Even his "I never forgave myself" is hollow. No, buddy, you should have been begging your brother's forgiveness for what you did to him. It's this pathetic attempt of Vander's is what I find insulting. We're supposed to go, "oh look he was sorry , if only Silco KNEW!". But it doesn't address the work needed to regain a person's trust and forgiveness.

Vander didn't put in the effort to deserve Silco's forgiveness. End of story.

The mutliverse episode just felt like a slap in the face in this respect. Silco's personality completely changes which makes ZERO sense. The young Silco and Timeline Silco in S2 don't make any sense compared the characterization of Silco in all of S1.

Young Silco HAD to have traits that build into what makes S1 Older Silco. The drowning isn't going to make those traits magically appear. It was always about the cause. Even if Vander apologized, his handling of the Underground and working with Enforcers is what pits Silco against him. THAT is the betrayal.

I don't think Vander's letter would have done much if we're going off S1 Silco explanation of the drowning and aftermath. Silco tried to see if he could get back the 'old Vander' but also knew it might not happen and had Plan B in the wings.

" I let a weak man die".

Silco decided that the cause was still the most important thing to him and learned not to trust anyone so willingly and blindly.

The Felicia angle is so weak. There is no build-up to this magical trio of friends. Silco doesn't seem to know her kids or vice versa. The kids seems to see Silco as an enemy most likely due to Vander and Benzo.

If Silco was a true friend, why doesn't he know the kids or vice versa? You'd think due to their age prior to the bridge, Silco would be a part of their lives and not just Vander?

S2 was such a disappointing mess. If they really wanted to explore these relationships, then they should have laid some of the groundwork in S1 but didn't. The fact it was dealt with in such a sloppy manner and expected fans to love it? That's what bugs me.

And the blatant character assassination of SO many characters in order to make their plot work.

All of S2 was poorly executed. Period.

y'all. y'all know the letter wasn't the apology right. it was the olive branch. "you know where to find me" was an invitation. he couldn't apologize in a letter. he wanted silco to meet him. yeah it was a shit apology. because it wasn't one. my word.

[thydungeongal]

Hey, in your opinion, which horror games have the best gleebor?

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy by @anim-ttrpgs is not a straight horror game, being primarily an investigative game, but it intersects a lot with horror due to being urban fantasy. It has a lot of extremely gleeblor stuff:

Actually clearly putting it out there that failure to solve a mystery is not an actual failure state. Even though many trad RPGs actually build tangible consequences for failure into them, the accepted practice of adventure design has basically begun to favor a model of adventures where there isn't any way to progress in an adventure unless the characters keep succeeding. Some games have sought to remedy this with rules that make it so that even failure moves the story forward, but it is also refreshing to see a game just sincerely take the position of "hey: a failure to solve a mystery just means that the story has a different ending."

The investigation points and Eureka! mechanic is actually genius. I alluded to the design trend of "failing forward" in the previous point, and while I think failing forward can work in some contexts, at worst it can rob failure of any meaning, especially if used within the context of a traditional challenge type game where overcoming obstacles is part and parcel of the gameplay. The investigation point mechanic rewards failure in such a way that it rewards engaging with the environment and not being afraid of failed skill checks, while also making sure that failure now means that you have a delicious Eureka! to look forward to later.

The composure mechanic is the best "sanity" mechanic I've seen in a horror game. Instead of robbing characters of agency it simply puts a cap on their ability. It's so simple and effective.

But honestly that's just scratching the surface, the game is full of stuff that makes me go "why has no one else thought to do that?" (And reportedly has made others do that as well) I heartily recommend checking it out.

But a few other honorary mentions:

Dread's use of the Jenga tower to represent the tension and release of a slasher flick is pretty dang inspired and was eye-opening in terms of how a game could reinforce its theme via mechanics.

Mothership is fun in how it marries what is pretty much just a very old-school D&D type of structure with a sci-fi horror theming. It's not straight up mind-blowing, but it's neat.

I can't think of a third one right now sadly. Hi! :)

[flawseer]

What's your opinion of what everyone did after the sealing of Darkstalker in the legends book? It just seemed way too quick with how they just moved on from the horrors, as Fathom and Indigo had kids and Clearsight flew off to a new continent to have kids with and create a whole new tribe. On another note, considering how Fathom was kind of banished (from what I remember) and had kids split off from the Royal Family, do you think there may be a descendant of Fathom somewhere hiding with Animus powers? Or do you think they just ended up being adopted back into the royal family after being discovered?

I personally consider Legends: Darkstalker the best book in the series, in part because I believe Sutherland's writing shines when she is not binding herself to the 5 books arc structure.

That said, the ending does have a bit of that one particular prequel problem. You know, the one where the characters are confirmed to be at a certain location in the future, so they absolutely HAVE to end the prequel story getting to that location IMMEDIATELY.

That's what I was thinking with regards to Clearsight's ending. Now, everyone deals with trauma differently, so I can only comment on her actions from my own limited point of view. I don't think I could have done what she did, at least not so suddenly. She had relationships beyond Darkstalker, with Listener and her parents, whom she presumably was still on good terms with. Like, especially her parents I think never actually learned what happened to her. They might have continued living thinking their only daughter died in the evacuation.

When I think of that part of the book, I personally like to envision an epilogue where Clearsight returns to her parents and lives with the Nightwings for a while (a couple years maybe). Her parents are supportive and Listener is grateful and admires her friend for saving her family. So much so that she reverses her stance on futuresight and authors a scroll about it, crediting Clearsight as a master prophet (this is the scroll that Moonwatcher later reads).

But the other Nightwings still fear Darkstalker, and they remember his girlfriend who stood on stage with him and looked at him adoringly as Darkstalker massacred his own father (they don't know she was tricking Darkstalker). So there is public tension building at Clearsight living with them, and it begins to negatively impact the people who support her. In the end, Clearsight decides to leave the tribe, both to protect her loved ones from getting caught up in her fallout and to separate herself from all that trauma and find her fortune on the new continent.

Notably, she actually tells her friends and parents about that plan this time, and they don't spend the rest of their lives wondering what happened.

As for Fathom and any potential descendants, there is a 'realistic but boring' answer, and one that is a bit more interesting narratively.

The boring answer is that, yes, there are descendants of Fathom around. Lots of them. It is inevitable. If you take an individual and step back one generation, you find they will have 2 parents. Above that they have 4 grandparents. Then 8 great-grandparents, 16 great-great-grandparents. At 10 generations back we are looking at 1024 theoretical ancestors. Now as these numbers get bigger, some of these lines will cross-breed with each other again, so the math isn't entirely clean, but just trust me that these numbers balloon really fast the more generations you go back.

Fathom was alive 2000 years ago. If we lean conservatively and say the average dragon has eggs at age 20, that means 100 generations have come and gone from then to today. The number of ancestors over this many generations is so high, you might pick any Seawing currently alive in present day and there will be a very decent chance of them having Fathom somewhere in their bloodline.

You go back far enough and everyone starts to be related to everyone else. Ancestry is funny like that.

For the more narratively interesting answer: I do believe Fathom re-integrated into the royal family again. One thing that needs to be kept in mind is that Pearl, like her brother, also had her entire life uprooted by the Royal Seawing Massacre. She was all at once dealing with the shock of losing her parents and the stress of having to now run the entire kingdom without being prepared for it at all. There was no time to process any grief, or the lingering fear. When she sent her brother away and forbade him to have children, that wasn't an act of malice, it was the only solution she could think of to keep everyone safe from the future threat of magic without also having to execute the last part of her family.

Neither of them ever had any ill will against the other. Pearl was dealt the shittiest of hands and she tried to make the best play she could at the time, while desperately trying to keep herself together. That is what I think.

As Pearl and Fathom got older and the situation in the Sea Kingdom stabilized, Pearl might have finally been able to reflect upon what happened and to process some of her neglected emotional turmoil. I believe Fathom eventually reached out again and they both found a way to reconcile, mending their fractured relationship. I don't know if Fathom moved back into the palace; perhaps he chose to stay away to keep the rest of the populace at ease. But I think his children or grand-children would eventually re-integrate into the royal family.

This turned out a bit wordy and the question was sitting in my inbox for a good while. But I hope this provides an interesting answer.

[originalartblog]

Hi I just wanted to say. I’m a trans guy who also doesn’t have a pussy (phallo ftw) and your art made me feel seen in a way I haven’t in years of being in fandom. I normally avoid trans characters bc they seem to be written by people who know nothing about what being trans means but this actually made my day to see. Some trans men have dicks! Even being on t will give you a t-dick without any surgery needed. But I never see that brought up. I wish bodies like mine were represented more often (or at least at all). Genuinely, thank you so much. <3 <3 <3

💞💞💞!!!

I've gotten a bunch of very enthusiastic comments about that last comic and, the joke itself aside, I'm so happy it brought as much joy as it did 💖

I just want to say I wouldn't know as much if I didn't have as many transmasc people, of varying identities, in my life as I do and did. It's just that not lot of people will even think to seek out info on the matter before being prompted to, and default to things they know about... which should read as a challenge 👀 Come and be creative we have so many stories and jokes to come up with!!

[amarriageoftrueminds]

ITA that Bucky was never intended to be a protagonist in this show!

On top of doing damage-control to mitigate the resented attention which SebStan's fan fave draws -- to what I suspect the creators think should only be a black story, and I agree... we should be getting characters in Sam's story because they make sense being there, not because Mackie and Stan get along IRL.

...I also think part of the reason why they wrote Bucky as an asshole butt-monkey is because they think it's the Worf Effect way to make Sam look good.

(You see the same idiotic writing in CATFA, where they introduce only one named, non-Designated Love Interest female character, and make them a generic, sexy-baby-voice dumb blonde slut, who sexually molests Steve and is never heard from again.

There are likewise 40+ chorus girls in Steve's USO show whose names we never learn -- because if they were named, and nice, and competent... well that would upstage the DLI. Same reason we never get to see Steve's mother, or Bucky's family, and why the fatws show shits on Bucky's time / close connections in Wakanda, just to copy them with a new set of black people swapped into T'Challa, Shuri-and-the-village-kid's places. As if black people are interchangeable or only 'count' if they're American!)

The problem with this Worf Effect approach is that 'better than a shitty clumsy ex-Hydra dudebro' would make Sam average, not great.

And this is transparently also why they nerf Bucky -- to make unenhanced Sam's skill level look better by comparison.

Then they reverse it by making their generic ex-Hydra dudebro suddenly kiss ass (as if that's a compliment) but only after he has been 'redeemed.'

Bucky is designated butt-monkey and Ignorant White Guy... until they need someone Good to compliment Sam, when suddenly Bucky is a 'hero for the first time.' 🙄 I wouldn't be shocked if certain bits in BNW followed the same pattern.

(Meanwhile, thinly-veiled-Nazi Zemo gets to mansplain supremacy and racism and how much he loves Marvin Gaye, to prove how cool he is… to a black man. My jaw dropped, my flabber was gasted..)

It also struck me that there was a kind of 'what happened to us isn't bad if it happens to a white guy, right?' power fantasy about the way Bucky is treated in tfatws. (Again, parallels with how the DLI is written in CATFA).

Think about how closely Bucky's life before & in tfatws mirrors a historically black experience:

his history, memory, ties to his family, even his very name, erased by those who abducted him into slavery;

(an experience for which he is punished and blamed in perpetuity, instead of the people who did that to him);

universally profiled as innately dangerous and violent (when he's innocent and has been living in blameless quiet for years);

monitored by the state / made to jump through hoops just to prove his right to exist in peace because of this (yet simultaneously told his desire for peace is bullshit);

arrested off the street by racist cops, when he hasn't done anything wrong except raise his voice;

'sold' into sexual slavery to a rich white woman in a foreign country

(followed up by other-race colleague bemoaning the suffering of... another rich white woman in that foreign country?? who has also been a twat to Bucky?)

stared at with bewildered suspicion when he shows up... to help;

'jokingly' warned off dating woman-of-other-race by her brother. 😬

In another 'verse, where it was Gabriel Jones who got serum, fell from the train, and was made into the WS, if you included all these beats in his story, people would be like 'wow, they're really driving home the black experience, huh?' They would read as the generic things that you'd almost expect to see in a historic black character's life story.

(And if Gabriel Jones was framed as having undergone all this willingly, and told he needs to make reparations to Hydra's victims... I mean, could you fucking believe that??)

So it feels like someone writing TFATWS subconsciously thought, 'I wish I could see a white character suffer the same shitty treatment black guys have had.'

And Bucky is the designated douchebag white guy because... him being too good would upstage Sam, and Walker can't be bad because he has a fridged black friend! (Bucky's black friends don't count because they're not American, not Sam, and/or because the writers couldn't be bothered to learn they existed). So this falls on Bucky.

And sadly, that approach to a token white guy in a black-centered story could potentially be super interesting in a Noughts & Crosses way, if the people writing it: a) were actually aware that that is what they were doing, b) had written the person it's happening to as a decent guy, to make their historically-black suffering sympathetic, and have the black characters recall when the same thing happened to them or their family because of their race, and the thus two characters be drawn closer together by their similar experiences.

(Rather than what we got, which is these eerily similar traumas happening to Bucky in front of black characters, who then either dismiss them or completely ignore them as if nothing bad or unfair has happened. It's downright bizarre!)

Just saw some people talking about how tfatws was crafted to make Bucky seem like more of a villain and unlikable for the fans and I think that another important factor of this is not only that it'll turn fans against his character, but it also means that these fans will go after other people who see through this bs and still like/defend Bucky's character. By convincing these fans that Bucky willingly worked for white supremacists and was culpable in the assassinations he carried out as WS, these fans now have a lot of ammunition to not only use against his character but any remaining fans of his. It sucks cause it's really gonna accomplish nothing except fracturing the fandom further (which let's face it, the mcu fandom is already one of the most fractured and toxic fandoms out there).

I see where you’re coming from but I’m going to counter with the fact that this is giving Spellman’s writing chops more credit than it deserves.

(Watch out, the salt is strong with this one, bring a glass of water)

I don’t think he set out intentionally to make Bucky fans into fandom outcasts. That requires a level of subtlety, guile and flair I just don’t see in the script - you only have to look to Sam’s two important speeches to know how grievously his writing falls short.

What I see is a very immature and (as others have pointed out) unprofessional approach to writing, where he has not watched the first 3 Cap movies - or if he has, not bothered to take notes. It’s clear he has no idea that Bucky was fighting against the Nazis before he became a POW. Sebastian had to remind the writers that Bucky was an assassin (did they think he was literally just a soldier?). It’s also poignant to note that his belief about Bucky needing to make amends partially hinges on the fact that Bucky killed the Starks - so we already have problem #1 here when a Team IM scriptwriter is signed on to write for the new Captain America. They are already biased against what Steve and Sam stood for.

So his planning process is really this:

1) Bucky was an assassin for Hydra. He must feel guilty, so let’s make him redeem himself by making amends. The reason I don’t think Spellman intentionally set out to make Bucky indefensible is his genuine pride when he proclaims Bucky redeemed himself at the end by saving a van and being “ironically” adopted by a Black family. Bucky the Howling Commando who died fighting Nazis adopted “ironically” by a Black family. Bucky the guy who’s been saving Steve’s ass since the playground “first time being a hero”.

Let me pause here and scream at the wall.

2) Bucky, as the character neither the director nor the writer likes, had to be the one to do all the shitty things.

I seriously mean it on this one, and I’ve been wanting to say it for a while.

Skogland said “everyone likes Walker”. This is why - incoherently - Bucky had to play the privileged white male trope, because Walker needed a redeeming quality and that was his relationship with Lemar.

Let me pause again to go scream at the wall.

Never mind that this story should be about Sam and Bucky, and that it really should have shown us the affection and kindness between our leads, they couldn’t bear to let Walker actually be a full villain so instead, they gave the privileged white male role to Bucky while Walker and Lemar actually have a functional friendship. ARGH.

Then we have the issue of needing to bring in Zemo, and redeem Zemo into an anti-villain. Zemo had to be likeable, more likeable than Bucky. So instead of allowing Zemo to just break out on his own (WHICH HE DID ANYWAY), they made Bucky go and get him out in order to break off his relationship with Wakanda.

And because they’ve given BUCKY the role of the ignorant white male within a story that addresses systemic racism, of course his actions become indefensible, never mind that all of this is completely inconsistent with his character.

Sorry this got long but the more I look at TFATWS from a writing standpoint, the more this series enrages me. It’s not even that they cared enough about Bucky to systemically ruin him - it’s because they really DGAF about Bucky so they just made him do all the wrong actions in the plot, in order to preserve their other precious characters.

[restlessmaknae]

you & me & bubble tea // nicholas

The moment a bubble tea shop opens close to campus, it becomes your new favourite place. Partly because of the boba they make and partly because you particularly vibe with one of its employees, Nicholas.

➳ Characters: bubble tea shop employee!Nicholas x female reader/you

➳ Genre: fluff, university au, slice of life

➳ Words: 1.5k

➳ Warning: - (let me know if there are any!)

➳ A/N: This story was requested in my 1200 followers request event by the lovely @https-dandelion. Hope you enjoy it! 💖

You still have time to request in the event, so check out the masterpost if you're interested!

Happy Valentine's Day, LUNÉ! 💖

When a bubble tea shop opened close to campus, you were exhilarated. You’ve been telling everyone and their mother that the only thing your campus was missing was a bubble tea place, so when ‘Bobalicious’ opened, you were over the Moon.

When you visited the place for the first time, you examined the menu by the front door for a few minutes before you decided that you would ask the employee working there for their recommendation instead of trying to mull over what to get.

“Hey,” you singsonged as you looked up from the display with boba merch, and your cheeks immediately flushed at the sight of the boy behind the counter. His lips pulled into a smile, his whiskers showing, and his eyes narrowed like a cat’s. A cute cat’s.

“Hey, what can I get for you?” He inquired with a tilt of his head, and you let your eyes wander down to his nametag - Nicholas - before averting your eyes back to his face. You needed a few moments to pull yourself together to blurt out an answer.

“What’s your signature drink?”

“Well, you mean our signature drink or my signature drink?” Nicholas asked with an amused grin, and you had a feeling that he knew exactly what you meant, but enjoyed seeing your flustered reaction.

“Well, is there a difference between the two?”

The boy smiled to himself at your question and pointed at a poster on the counter, signalling Bobalicious’ signature drink - an iced matcha & mango milk tea with brown sugar. Needless to say, you didn’t catch sight of it before, but he didn’t call you out on it. Instead, he waited for you to speak up, his eyes widening slightly in anticipation.

“Hmm, so what’s your signature drink then?”

As if he waited for you to inquire about it, he leaned onto the counter and beckoned you closer like you were children and he was about to share a secret. You leaned closer as well, mentally preparing yourself for a mischievous answer like ‘it’s a secret’, but instead, he actually answered in detail.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve been loving making the strawberry velvet boba with coconut milk. It’s just as sweet as it sounds, but it’s so much better with coconut milk than with any other milk, it gives it an exotic kick, and it’s even better iced than hot.”

He seemed so excited to share it with you that you felt like falling down an imaginary staircase while looking into his eyes, letting his deep yet gentle voice surround you.

“Then, I’ll have your signature drink,” you bobbed your head beamingly, and your heart did a little somersault at the sight of his wide, toothy smile. Afterwards, he asked you about the size and sweetness level of your order, and got started on making it.

You let your eyes roam around the cosy, colourful place dotted with tables, chairs and even beanbags, pictures of cartoon-like smiley boba hanging on the wall and pots of plants adding a natural touch to the interior. However, your eyes went back to Nicholas’ figure and the way he was excitedly yet carefully making your drink. There was something so heart-warming about his enthusiasm that you found yourself smiling at him, and you were sure that he caught you staring like an idiot when he turned around and handed you the drink.

“Enjoy, and let me know what you think,” he asked as you reached for the drink. You pierced the straw through the top and took a sip. The sweetness of the coconut milk and the strawberry puree complemented each other so well, it wasn’t even overbearing yet had just the right amount of flavour, and the coldness of the drink turned it into a refreshing treat on this humid day.

“Wow, this is amazing!” You beamed at him, and he looked almost shy hearing your compliment.

“Thanks. I’m glad you enjoy it,” he noted, scratching the back of his neck.

Unfortunately, your encounter was cut short because the next customer showed up, but at least you now had an ice-cold plastic cup to cool your flushed cheeks with.

Afterwards, you came back to the boba place again and again no matter the time or day. Sometimes, it wasn’t Nicholas working there but another guy - Allen -, and though Allen was just as friendly, he wasn’t Nicholas.

Nicholas and you had something going on, you could tell. You developed a habit of holding a conversation with him even while he was preparing your drink, and he developed a habit of joining you at your table if there were no new customers around. Sometimes, you even helped him make TikTok videos for Bobalicious’ page, and laughed at the way he was so creative with his lines. Other times, when you were there at the end of his shifts, he would sit with you and ask about your days before walking you to the campus building you were needed at or the bus station when you were heading home.

He was a funny guy who loved teasing you, but he never took it too far, and you knew that he meant well even when he was being playful. He was also a really good listener, and patiently waited for you to reach the end of your monologues when you were venting to him about assignments and group project members who were slacking off. When you were upset, he tried to cheer you up by drawing stuff on your plastic cups and putting an extra amount of tapioca into your drinks.

You kept in touch even if you didn’t see each other, and it became one of your favourite daily activities to send memes and videos to him apart from messages asking about his day and sharing details about your own. No wonder it felt like you knew him so well, and you spent so much time together, but it was never outside of the confines of the boba place or your campus. Not until he posed a question one day.

He was closing the shop that day, but you stayed until the end because you were working on a presentation on your laptop, and lost track of time. However, when he started cleaning the tables around yours, you quickly realised that he was preparing to close, so you saved your work, and closed your laptop.

“How’s that presentation coming along?”

“I’ve made some good progress today, and though there are still some slides to polish, I’ve decided to call it a day,” you explained contently, putting your laptop into your bag. Then, you stretched your arms over your head to loosen those tight muscles.

“Does it mean you’ll have some free time over the weekend?” Nicholas asked casually, wiping the nearby table with a wet cloth.

“Yeah, I think I’ll get it done tomorrow, and I’ll only need to revise some material for next week, so I’ll probably be able to relax on the weekend.”

Nicholas stopped wiping the nearby table, and turned to you instead. You looked up at him expectantly, but instead, he leaned onto his elbows onto your table. You blinked in confusion, his smooth and flirty side always taking you by surprise, and you hated how easy it was to read you at times like this. You were sure that your cheeks were already burning, but he didn’t make a comment on it.

“How about going somewhere with me on Sunday then?” He suggested, and this time, his voice was void of any mischief or playfulness. You were so taken aback by his serious tone that you didn’t find your voice, and maybe he mistook your silence for confusion because he added: “As a date, I mean.”

If your cheeks had not been flushed by now, they would have surely been on fire this time. You might have imagined being asked this question time and time again, but nothing could prepare you for the feelings it evoked in you. It was butterflies and fireworks and all that jazz.

“I’d love to,” you blurted out, trying to fight a way too giddy smile, and you could tell that he was the same. He was trying not to seem too proud and act all cool instead, but he almost bumped into the chair behind him when he turned around, and clumsily tried to recover from it.

You loved him for it, you loved him even more.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

This story is very loosely connected to a Hyunsuk story of mine.

Click here for my &TEAM masterlist!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for &TEAM or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here. 🥰

Header taken from the 'Koegewari' MV.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[wardenparker]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 2

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 14.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas.* More fluff and sweetness. Adorable and awkward flirting. Workplace romance, technically? Clothing/trying on clothing. Summary: The first day of the movie crew's work is here, and no one is prepared for the whirlwind that this day will bring -- not even you and Javi. Notes: We started off strong with a big ol' error last week guys! Sorry about that. But thank you to those folx who brought it to my attention, you're simply the best readers out there. The start date of ch1 is now fixed and dates are fixed across the board. 🧡 This week enjoy a photo of the music room at The Breakers -- the house that inspired or fictional Hazelwood House.

Friday, April 4, 2025

“Javi, you don’t want to meet with the cast?”

He pauses, looking out of the front window of the little cottage at the wooden stakes marked off in the barren ground. Cleared and ready to be built and now lying abandoned. There didn’t seem to be much need to continue building a house when the woman who he was building it for had left. “They don’t need me at the read through.” He tells his agent, knowing that she had pushed for him to be on set and involved in every aspect of the filming, giving him more creative control. He appreciated it, but he was more excited about where the movie was being filmed than who was in it.

The thing is, Sherry knows him. She knows that there has to be a reason he pushed for the specific shooting location that inspired the script. She knows there's some girl there that he won't talk about – he'd showed up moon eyed to a meeting one day after working on the script and there had been something about it that screamed infatuation. Which is why she has no problem at all pulling the ace out from her proverbial sleeve.

"I would have thought you would want to see the house again." She hums. "Oh well. I'll let them know you're not coming and I'll cancel the car from the studio."

“The meeting is at the house?” He had assumed it was the studio read through. Not at the house. She hums and he starts to panic. “No! No, um, on second thought, I should see who is going to be playing my characters.”

Ever the professional, Sherry keeps her smile polite and betrays no hint of victory, despite the fact that she barely had to fight at all. "The director wanted the cast to be able to look around the house and grounds before the furniture gets swapped out for set pieces." She explains easily.

“Is the staff going to be there?” He asks eagerly. “To answer any questions for the cast? I don’t know a lot about the history, I mean. It would be good, you know, to have them there.” The idea of seeing you again has him already walking into his bathroom to get ready, needing a shower.

"As I understand it, a few of the docents will be there today." So that's what it is. One of the girls from the museum staff. "You have half an hour until the car gets here, Javi," she calls after him, grinning as he immediately hops into high gear.

Javi grins as he starts to rush through his shower. It’s ridiculous how excited he is by the idea of just seeing you again. Especially since he can’t recall ever seeing or hearing your name. He just knows that his entire mood brightens when he thinks about the few times that he’s interacted with you.

She hums again, pleased this time, and sits down in the living room of Javi's little house to wait. She has work she can do on her laptop in the meantime and sends a text off to the production assistant in charge of corralling the creative team for the movie, confirming that Javi will be there. Now she just needs to find out who this girl is.

Towel wrapped around his waist; he hurries into the bedroom closet to pick out an outfit. Wanting to strike the right chord and look good when he arrives.

Sherry only has to hurry him along once, and he's tucked into the studio car right on time and sent off to Santa Barbara. She doesn't have to babysit him there, she knows he'll do his work, but it's good that she stayed long enough to get him in the car. A day of work and whatever girl is in that house will do Javi a world of good.

In the car, Javi fiddles with his phone, triple checking the time and discreetly turning on the camera to check his appearance. He had made sure not to put on too much cologne, but he had completely forgot to check his hair. Even if it is shorter than he had worn it before.

He fidgets all the way to the museum, and the anticipation settles over him like the buzz of electricity threatening to shock him at any moment. The first thing he does when he walks in the front door is look to the front desk, but it isn't who he's looking for. He vaguely recognizes the young woman though, and flounders for a moment to remember her name. It's the girl who had been with you that night just before Christmas. The one who suggested you take your break with him.

“Hi.” He flashes smile at the woman. “I’m—”

“I’m so sorry sir.” Moira hates that the mystery man who managed to make you float on air arrived today of all days. “The house is closed for a private event.” She tilts her head sympathetically and walks around the desk to usher him outside.

“No, I just wished to see—”

“We will we be closed for the next four months.” She has dealt with difficult people all day. Insisting their little tour wouldn’t interrupt anything and she doesn’t want to have to tell you this guy ended up being a jackass.

“No, you don’t understand—”

“Javi!” He spins around when his name is called from deeper inside the house, turning to see the producer of the film, smiling broadly as he rushes forward.

“Scott.” He’s grateful that the other man had shown up when he did, about to be booted out on his ass by the girl.

"Javi?" Moira quickly moves back to the desk to look at the clipboard that she was given by the producer now striding into the foyer. Glancing down and down it, her jaw drops open a little before she lights up with glee. "Javier Gutierrez?" She asks, looking up at the producer.

"Our writer." Scott affirms. "We almost started without you, Jav. C'mon in. We're all in the ballroom."

“Sorry.” He ducks his head in apology and his eyes shift over to Moira. He nods quickly, not wanting her to think he was upset with her before he follows Scott. “The traffic was heavier than the driver anticipated.” He explains as they walk down the hall.

"Not to worry. But it's good you're here. You know how changes go." Scott hustles them along a hallway and through the open pocket doors into a ballroom that would fit an entire Olympic swimming pool. There are tables set up on one end so the cast can all face each other during the read, with extra seats for key members of the production team. On the other end of the ballroom, two production assistants are setting up a makeshift catering table with someone sitting in a chair at the far end.

He doesn’t feel nervous when he sees the famous faces that will be bringing the script to life. He smiles and waves to each one of them, happy that such a talented group has been chosen by the production team and the director. It’s going to be amazing, he can feel it. No, he gets nervous when he sees you sitting in a chair away from the tables, looking just as shocked to see him. Freezing for a second before he gives the most awkward wave of his life and wants to kick himself for being so ridiculous.

OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod—

You almost short circuit, sitting there in that chair with your legs crossed and a book in your lap. Your jaw drops open in surprise while the rest of you lights up, returning his sweet, shy wave with a little one of your own.

Somehow you hadn’t even considered the possibility that a writer would be on set for the filming of their movie, although in retrospect of course they would. You’re just so stunned that it’s him that you can barely think.

She’s here. That’s the thought that flutters through his mind until Scott touches his arm and breaks the spell that seems to have possessed him. Pointing him to a chair and he sits down, twisting his head to look back at you one more time to confirm that it’s you and not his overactive imagination playing tricks on him.

He catches you looking and you don’t even have the presence of mind to do anything but be mildly embarrassed and giddy that he’s actually here. That for the next four months, the chances of seeing him aren’t just increased but high. Is it a silly crush? Absolutely. But there’s nothing wrong with that in the least.

Javi tries to focus, but he catches himself wondering if you are listening. If you are happy that he will be here for the next four months.

He barely manages to mark comments during the read. His mind is forty feet in back of him sitting next to that folding table. It’s wrapped up in the navy blue dress and brown leather riding-style boots you have on today. He is utterly distracted beyond repair.

When the reading is finished with there is chatter at the table, a speech from the director, another from a different producer, and then one from the museum’s head curator.

You manage to hear most of what your boss says, straining a little only at times because of the size of the room, but the acoustics are good enough. She’s telling the cast and production crew that they’re going to be split into three groups to be led around the house by herself and the two docents here today. And then she excuses herself to bring Moira in while the whole cast breaks for something to eat before their tours.

Immediately Javi turns towards you and makes a beeline towards the chair where you are sitting. Or were sitting, now standing up and brushing down the front of your dress in an adorably nervous way. “Hi.” He rushes out when he gets within three feet of you.

“Hi.” The answering chirp is just as bright and excited as his is. You can’t help it. “I—I had no idea you’d be here.”

“I- I wrote the movie.” He’s not bragging, not really. He’s just stumbling for something to say without sounding like an idiot. “My agent, she insists that I be involved with the production. So that I can keep creative influence over the final product.” The success of the three movies he’s written so far has all but guaranteed that he gets what he asks for and she makes sure he does.

“You wrote a movie that takes place here?” Obviously he did, but you’re still stunned enough to be fumbled to connect all of the dots necessary to sound like an intelligent person. “Is that…I mean…it has to be, doesn’t it? Why you came back to visit the house? It really spoke to you.”

“That’s part of it.” Not all of it of course. The house is beautiful and did spark his interests, but that’s not the entire reason he kept coming back.

“Only part?” You can’t help feel yourself hoping. That dangerous, seductive, riotous feeling that takes wing in the hollow of your chest. That part of you dreams he’s thought about you a mere fraction as much as you’ve thought about him.

“I came back several other times.” He admits bashfully. “You were not here, I must assume you were off.”

“You…looked for me?” And just like that, hope’s wings unfurl into something so bold and beautiful that you almost erupt into disbelieving, giddy giggles.

“I liked our conversations.” He’s worried that it might have been improper until you start beaming at him. Making him smile in response.

“I did too.” It’s a terrible understatement, but it’s true.

“You did?” He brightens slightly, licking his bottom lip nervously. “I was worried that I was bothering you.” He admits with a laugh.

“Not at all.” In fact, the warmth in your cheeks at that simple confession runs all the way down your neck and blossoms in your chest. “I was afraid that I was bothering you.”

“Not at all.” He shakes his head vigorously. “I was disappointed to learn I couldn’t have a one-on-one tour.” He admits. “I asked once, when you were off, hoping to get you and you weren’t there anyway.” He can’t help but laugh at himself for that and shrugs.

“I’m certain we could manage one during filming, though things will be moved around. Our furniture and collections items are going into storage starting tomorrow.” It will be a very busy work day for your conservation and collections staff along with the moving company that has been hired, but the docents have the weekend off. You’ve planned a very busy weekend of sitting around and doing nothing at all.

He moves towards the tables that are ladened down with food and picks up a plate to hand to you. “I know, but the furniture will be replicas of the original furniture.” He had been specific about certain pieces in the script. “The set designer loved the originals.”

“Really?” Surely that must have cost a fortune, and it shocks you that he would have gone through so much work. “Is that why they want the cast and crew to see the set up of the house today?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I gave a specific tone for this movie.” He admits, smiling as he reaches for a mini croissant chicken salad. “Do you like these?” He offers, holding it out to you. “Craft services is really good.”

“I love chicken salad. Thank you.” Not to mention you’ll try just about anything once, but he’s hit on a favorite immediately. He sets two of the small sandwiches on your plate beside the scone you had already selected. “So you…write the film after visiting? Or did the house happen to fit the story that you wanted to tell?”

“I was starting the script.” He admits. “I was stuck on how I wanted it to be set and the house was mentioned. So I decided to come see it.” He chooses a little egg tart and hums. “That first visit is where you talked about the mosaic tiles. I knew then I wanted the movie set here.”

“Because of the tiles?” You ask, amused at the thought. He had been so entranced by the detail that you almost aren’t surprised.

“It’s is so specific.” He defends. “That had to be a decision that was made by the owners, the designers. I can’t imagine the builder caring if the tiles were the same marble.”

“You’re preaching to the choir,” you remind him with a gentle laugh. “I wish the family had kept more records about the design choices, but how could Mrs. Hollingsworth have known her house would become a museum?”

“It would be interesting to see.” He agrees, scooping some of the seafood salad onto his plate.

“The great-grandchildren, the ones that are still living, are notoriously hands off.” You explain as you go down the line together, filling your plates with all of the delicious looking offerings that catering has provided. “And their children have no connection to the house whatsoever. So whatever information we’re ever going to have…we pretty much already have it.”

“That’s sad.” He frowns slightly, remember his own big beautiful house that would be forgotten. It had been seized by the police when Lucas has been arrested.

“Perhaps we’ll do some digging in the archives one day or find something new in a trap door of the attic.” You hope you will, anyway. The more information the better. “Who knows?”

The two of you make your way through the line to the drinks and he picks up a strawberry lime soda. “Do you want to talk while we eat?” He asks. “Or do you have to meet with your boss?”

“No, I—I’d rather stay and talk to you.” It seems like a very forward thing to say, but you pick out a can of sparkling lemonade from the cooler and practically beam. “My boss will let me know who is in my tour group after lunch.”

“Then we should sit down.” He guides you over to table to sit, finding the leads of the film already sitting.

Sitting down to a casual lunch with movie stars was not something you had on your Bingo card for your life. Not really. Living in Southern California didn’t guarantee a damn thing and you certainly haven’t done any kind of acting since high school drama club. The best you can do is a polite if awkward smile as you sit down in the chair that is being held out for you and hope that small talk trends toward the house. That you can talk about.

“Javi, I am sooooo thrilled to work on this.” The lead actress, Tamara Wilson, has an impressive range from what he has seen in the audition clips. “The script is amazing.”

He sits down and ducks his head slightly. “Thank you.”

“It’s such character-focused story telling.” The younger of the two male leads, Jason Grant, is a relative newcomer but fought to get this role and he’s excited for it. “The research you did is incredible.”

He chuckles. “It was interesting.” He shoots you a glance. “The house is part of the focus of the film.” He explains since you haven’t read the script. “A character on her own.”

“She’s a very worthy to house to include.” A glowing part of you warms from the toes up at the idea that any of this might be because you talked to him about the house, and you don’t mind admitting that to yourself at all. “I’ll do my very best, we all will, to answer any question you all have about the house and the family here. I know the family in your movie will be different, but we’ll do so glad to answer any questions we possibly can.”

“Are there any secret passages?” Tamara asks, leaning in with the gleam of excitement in her eyes.

“Several.” You assure her with a grin. “I’ll show you when we walk around. The staff made their way through the house invisibly to make it like the place operated by magic alone.”

“That is amazing.” She gushes, looking around to try to figure out where an opening would be in this room. “Imagine the secrets they must have overheard.”

"Any time someone in a costume drama jokes that 'the maids know everything', it's not really a joke." Eating as you chat makes it feel slightly less daunting, especially with Javier sitting beside you looking like he's hanging on your every word. "Domestic staff knew everything about the people they worked for. And were usually privy to secrets that the family were keeping from each other, on top of it all."

“So you would want to make sure your staff was loyal to you.” She nods seriously and looks over past Jason to Alexander as he joins the four of you at the table. “Or in this case - you.” She snorts and rolls her eyes playfully.

"Me?" Alex points to himself, eyebrows raised, and sets his plate down beside the binder holding his script. "What did I do?"

Alex is objectively beautiful, even Javier can admit that as he glances over at the man that magazines call a ‘heartthrob’. It is rumored that he will be the next year’s Sexiest Man Alive and better yet, he’s a beautiful soul. Jason chuckles. “You have to make sure all the staff are loyal to you.” He explains and points at you. “Starting with her.”

"Oh," you fluster, clearing your throat gently and looking unintentionally bashful. "I'm afraid my loyalties are already spoken for. No hard feelings, gentlemen." It's a ludicrous thing to say to one of the biggest movie stars in Hollywood and a tv actor you've swooned over with Moira, but...it's true. And there's just no way to deny it.

“Well, damn.” Even though he’s just now getting involved with the conversation, Alex is nothing if not willing to tease and joke around with his casemates. “Way to break a man’s heart before introductions.” He reaches out his hand. “Alex Powell.” He introduces himself, giving that characteristic smile that has ladies normally swooning. “Sure I can’t change your mind?”

"As much as I appreciate the offer, Mr. Powell -- and it's very nice to meet you by the way -- I'm afraid not." You can think of at least a half dozen friends off the top of your head who would be screaming to shake Alexander Powell's hand right now, but you find yourself oddly impartial to him in this moment. Obviously he's handsome, but the man sitting to your right, with his gorgeous curls and bright brown eyes, has already laid every possible claim over your affections.

“Damn.” His eyes slide to your side and he notices the way Javi Gutierrez, the entire reason he signed on to the project, looks downright relieved at your answer. “Then you and I are going to be friends.” He decides, sending you a wink.

******

When the lunch break finishes, everyone clears away their dishes into the bins provided by the catering staff, and the museum's head curator steps up to the front of the group. "We'll split into three tour groups," she announces pleasantly, her characteristic smile broad across her face. "Group A will be the technical crew and production assistants. Group B will be the costumers, hair and make-up department, and Second Team actors. Group C will be First Team actors and production crew."

She looks out on the sea of assembled people, as the crew that were not on site for the read through all arrived during lunch time. "Group A will be with me, Group B with our docent Moira," she points to the north side of the ballroom and Moira waves. And then Leslie points in your direction, telling Group C that they will be taking their tour with you.

Javi lights up, hoping that he would be put with you, although he never would have protested. Whatever is happening between you both is fragile and this is your job. Calling attention to your boss is never a good thing, at least he would never willingly admit anything to Lucas before. Protecting that glowing feeling in his chest as he steps towards you.

"We keep getting lucky," you murmur, barely loud enough for him to hear as you smother a smile.

“I wonder if your boss decided to do that on purpose.” Biting his lip, he glances over at the older woman. “She is the one I spoke to about a private tour.”

“Maybe.” But you can’t say you mind. Not even a little bit. “Leslie is incredibly sweet. I can see her doing that. She’ll always do what she can to make people happy.”

“It won’t make you uncomfortable for me to be on the tour?” He doesn’t think that it will make you feel that way, but he wants to be sure. He knows he can be a little….intense at times.

“Why would I be uncomfortable with that?” If you’re being honest with yourself, you’d be a little jealous if he went on someone else’s tour. It’s just the crush talking, surely, but you feel connected to him. Like he would just wander away carrying a piece of you if he went with anyone else.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs and grins as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Maybe I am being too bold?” He offers. “I can be over eager sometimes.”

"To be fair..." Having him talk of being bold makes you feel the same way. "You haven't actually said anything forward at all."

He realizes that you are right, but the way you say it makes his smile widen, reaching his eyes. “Perhaps you would like me to?” He asks, only to have Scott come up and clap him on the back.

“Tour time!” He grunts happily. “Javi, make sure to point out to Alex and Tamara where their clandestine scenes will be.”

You don't know the man from a hole in the wall but you are instantly frustrated with this producer. His timing was perfectly horrible and you nearly deflate at not being able to answer Javier right away. The best you can do right now is catch his eye as the group starts to assemble around you and mouth, 'Yes' with a nod of your head. Yes, you absolutely do want him to be bold. To make a move. To actually like you as much as you like him.

Javi tucks his hands deeper into his pockets and hangs back slightly so he can have a moment to celebrate. He hurries to catch up and is eager to hear everything you have to say.

All three tours start in different areas of the house. You walk the cast and main production crew through each room, talking to them about the architecture of the house, the use of each room, and the family that lived here. You show them the servant’s passages and answer as many questions as they have about the everyday workings of big houses and upper class families and large domestic staffs of the Gilded Age.

At one point, Tamara laughs in disbelief at the sheer breadth of the knowledge you have accumulated. “How did you get to be such an expert?” She asks, genuinely interested as she pokes around the dressing room attached to Mrs. Hollingworth’s bedroom on the second floor.

“They say it takes ten thousand hours to be an expert in something,” you shrug your shoulders. “I ended up studying history in college, put my focus on domestic history and the culture of families in the Victorian and Gilded eras, and then I’ve worked in house museums. So…maybe five years ago? Would be when those ten thousand hours were fulfilled?”

“Wow.” Javi is suitably impressed. “That is amazing. I think that I have only become an expert in movies.” He snorts. “Watching them, not making them. Not yet.”

“Do we have an on set historical consultant?” Alex asks Scott, turning to the producer with a flourish of his hands in your direction. “I mean we have one, but can we make her official?”

Javi nods in agreement when Scott glances towards him. “It would be good to have her on set. Help them with any needed facts and I could use her for potential re-writes.”

“Oh, I couldn’t— I—”

“Done.” Scott nods. “Save me having to hunt down resources for you, so I’m all for it.” He gives you the same too-pleased smirk and insincere wink that you’ve seen him give nearly everyone else. “Welcome to Hollywood, kid.”

Alex chuckles, moving over to you and slinging his arm around your shoulder. "Buckle up." He warns, jostling you playfully. "We will pick your brain clean. I want to make sure we get this on the radar for awards."

“Oh, but that…that’s down to all of you. Not to me.” Your mind is spinning but not at all in a bad way. It all feels like the most fantastic dream. “You’re going to help.” Tamara promises, confident and bubbling over with excitement. “And when we get those red carpet invitations, one of us will bring you as our date. You’ll have a blast.”

Javi's eyes widen, surprised by the idea coming from the lead actress but he doesn't deny that. Hoping that he wouldn't have to watch you walk the carpet with someone else. That would be his luck.

“That’s a very generous offer.” One that flusters you immeasurably, and you shuffle your booted feet in place. “I’m very excited to help, just nervous. That’s all.”

“Don’t be nervous.” Jason huffs, smiling at you and tugging Tamara close to his side. They have previous worked together on a small project and are happy to be reunited again. “We are just as normal as you are. We just have a job that is….public.” He chuckles.

“Let’s take a little break before we talk about Monday’s scenes.” Always working, Scott wipes his hands on each other and looks around. “Coffee.” He decides, heading off toward the catering table.

"Javier, I have a few questions about the script." Tamara poses, tilting her head as she looks towards Javi. "Would you mind chatting about it for a few minutes?"

His eyes float to you hesitantly, but you just smile. “I need to check in with my boss and let her know about the…the very generous consultant offer. Come and find me when you’re done?”

"I will." He nods, not even noticing the raised brows and shared smiles the actors share. Both of you are laying claim to each other and it's honestly interesting to watch.

Your heart is pounding as you make your way back over to Leslie and Moira, feeling like you're about to deliver terrible news when it probably won't change much of anything. Several of the other docents had taken the spring off rather than work on the movie set, and the ones who did want to be there for the film had had to fight for shifts.

"So how did your tour go?" Leslie asks, a small smirking smacks of smugness on her face. She had wondered if the writer of the script had a little crush on you when she finally put two and two together today. He was the same man who had been obviously looking for you when he asked about a personalized tour, describing you to a T.

"It was good." If you were glowing any more, you would be a lamppost. You're sure of that. But you can't help it in the least. "It was really great. Everyone is super nice."

"Especially your writer?" Moira asks with the biggest shit-eating grin on her face.

"What is his name?" Leslie asks, wondering if the two of you had actually had a conversation that is more than just longing glances and flirtatious banter. Both of you seem smitten, almost like you are soulmates.

"Javier." Even saying his name lights you up a little more, but you correct yourself a moment later. "Javi."

"Javi." She hums, nodding. "He looks like a Javi." She admits with a grin. "I didn't know if you had a stalker when he came in a few months ago and asked for you. Didn't know your name, but described you."

"We hadn't gone so far as to exchange names until today," you admit, practically biting your lip to keep your grin from growing even wider. "We had met twice before. He came in several times when he was writing the film, apparently."

"I knew that he had come in several times. I remember seeing him. Honestly? I was hoping he wasn't creepy, especially when I thought he kept coming back to look for you. I didn't let you know in case. I didn't let him know your schedule." In hindsight, she should have told you, but she is kind of a momma bear towards her docents. Protective.

"We appreciate that you take care of us, believe me." From time to time there are creepy guests who make the docents and other staff uncomfortable, so it's good that Leslie always keeps an eye out. The well-dressed Midwestern blonde looks unassuming but packs a wallop when she's displeased. "But Javi is very sweet. He's..." A dreamy sigh settles in your chest and you break out laughing. "I'm horribly smitten, guys. I'm sorry. I can't even pretend otherwise."

Moira's brows shoot up. "I knew you had a crush, but this— giirrrrrrl." She tilts her head. "You're acting like that man is your soulmate."

"Oh no." Another laugh escapes you, but this one isn't as big or full. "I don't think I could get that lucky."

“You don’t?” She scoffs doubtfully but she doesn’t press. Even if you don’t have shared scars with this man, it’s the most interested you’ve been with anyone in a long time. “Although I’m really fucking jealous that you got to breathe the same air as Alex Powell.”

"Actually, um...come to that." Looking apologetically between Moira and Leslie, you face your boss with the bravest and most simultaneously plaintive expression you can muster. "The production team has...invited me to fill a position." One which you can't understand why Leslie herself isn't filling, but maybe they asked her and she had to say no to...you know...run the museum. "They've asked me to be their on set historical consultant."

Leslie bites her lip, honestly amused that you are looking surprised by that offer. You are one of the most knowledgeable docents she has, probably that she’s ever had. “What do you think about that?” She asks seriously. “That could mean wildly different working hours.” She reminds you. “There’s going to be a lot of night filming.”

"I don't mind a change of hours. I mean...when am I ever going to get another chance to be on a movie set?" Still, you're twisting your fingers around each other nervously and wringing your hands. "I'd like to accept, if it's alright with you? I mean, you're my boss and in no way do I want to leave the museum. Tours are on hiatus until filming is finished anyhow, and if I take a leave of absence then you could give more docents hours being set supervisors." It was the job of the docents on set to watch over the house and protect it during filming. To basically be bodyguards for the house and always keep a watchful eye on things.

“I think that you would still be able to keep your hours here.” She says after a moment. “But it wouldn’t include overtime. Just your normal work week.” She shrugs. “Have they discussed pay?”

"Not yet. I assume I'll have to meet with someone from the studio and sign whatever contract they use for consultants." Not that you have any idea what any of that will mean, but you're eager to find out.

Moira, for her part, grins and hugs you to her side. "Fancy job and a fancy guy. Look at you!"

“That means that I will need you to step up as head docent.” Leslie reminds Moira with a smile. “Do you have any problem with that?”

“I will do my best to live up to it.” Moira agrees, though she knows she doesn’t have as much experience as you. Though she has worked at Hazelwood longer, you’ve been in museum work in general for more time and have a stronger academic background than she does. But she also knows that if Leslie thinks she can do it, then she shouldn’t be second guessing her own abilities.

"You will do wonderfully." She has faith in that, although she knows that she will also be around. She's protective of the house and interested in the movie that is being filmed here.

“It sounds like we’re all going to have a hell of a spring and summer on our hands.” You observe, eliciting laughs from the other two women.

Javi is discussing the script with Tamara and Scott when you walk back over. Listening to the actress seriously and contemplating her ideas. “Why don’t I write the pages, and you can see if it fits the character?” He asks, willing to take the changes and see. “Run through both and see which one you like better?” That is directed towards Scott, who knows what the director is looking for.

“If we can get it done over the weekend, we’ll test it.” Scott agrees. “Sally will be in tomorrow, she had one more producers she was meeting with today.” He checks his watch, checks his phone, and in the process of moving around spots you. “Do I need to talk to your boss for you?” He asks, seeing that you look nervous.

“Oh! No. It’s all set. Whatever contract you need me to sign, I’ll look over when it’s ready. But Leslie has no problem with the arrangement.”

“Good.” Javi knows the production will be fair. One of the reasons he was excited to work with this studio is because they have a good reputation.

“Good.” Scott agrees, clapping you in the shoulder and going off in the opposite direction.

Javi sees the confusion on your face and laughs. "Don't worry." He assures you. "There will be a contract brought around to you. It will be fair."

Javi is sitting beside Tamara, one leg crossed over the other and looking like the most relaxed and picturesque god of a man you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s not the contract that has you confused in this moment, it’s wondering how you got so lucky that he could actually be interested in you.

“I’ll let you two talk.” Tamara offers, flashing you a wink and a grin as she gets up to scoot away.

Javi smiles happily as you slide into the seat that Tamara vacates. Happy that you are going to be on set for the duration. He knows that he will be here too, already asking if he could have a space to set up his equipment instead of working from home like he had originally anticipated. "Are you happy to be asked to work on the movie?" He asks curiously. "You will be listed in the credits."

“It’s all a little surreal,” you admit, perched on the edge of the chair like you’re afraid it might get swept out from under you at any second. “I always dreamed about working in Hollywood. I mean who doesn’t at some point? But I never thought it would actually happen.”

“Honestly? Same.” He laughs quietly. “I had dreams, but with my family….” He frowns slightly and shrugs it off. “It was not possible until a few years ago. I was just obsessed with film. Movies. The magic and wonder of it all.”

“I’m sorry your family wasn’t supportive.” You shift in your seat to face him better and feel your heart leap up into your throat almost instantly. You could have sworn you saw the flicker of something above the line of his loafer but it can’t be.

He’s always uncomfortable when talking about his family. Shifting slightly in his seat and moving his ankle to rest on his knee. “That is the past.” He offers with a small smile. “I look towards the future.”

“I—I’m—I’m really sorry, but…” With your pulse pounding blood so loudly in your ears that it has drowned out your thoughts. “Your ankle—?” Clear as day now, the vertical scar on the inside of his ankle that curves ever so slightly at the top like a Shepard’s crook is exposed for anyone to see.

It can’t be. Can it?

He frowns for a second before he follows your eyes to his leg and he nods. “Oh.” It’s an old scar, not red or angry. Just a silvery distortion of his skin. “Old injury.” He explains. “I fell out of an olive tree when I was younger.” He was pushed out, by Lucas, but he doesn’t talk about that. “The old iron fencing around the base wasn’t kind.” He adds, lifting his pant leg so you can see it properly.

The strangled sort of hiccupping sound you make is barely smothered by your hand flying to your lips, but the water rising up in your eyes can't be disguised. "A-and...and...how long ago was that?" It's impossible, and yet here it is right in front of you. A mark you know as well as you know any other shape in the world.

Javi told his head curiously, surprised by your reaction to his scar. “About twenty years ago.” He murmurs cautiously. “I was old enough to know better. Why?”

"I—" You could explain. You could. But words have utterly failed you in this moment. This moment that has you reaching to unzip your right boot and pull your sock away from your ankle to expose the very same shepherd’s crook scar on your own skin.

Javi’s confused smile quickly slides into a frown. Tugging his lips down as his eyes widen. Shock making his mouth hang open and he slides out of his seat to his knees in front of your leg. Looking up at you for a moment to confirm you aren’t playing a prank on him. Then looking down and slowly reaching for your ankle to rub his thumb over the scar that matches his. He doesn’t care about the short, stubbly leg hair where you obviously haven’t shaved in a few days. Too entranced by the rippled skin that is smoother than his own since your skin wasn’t ripped open but matches his in every way. “You-“ His eyes light up and he exhales roughly. “You are my soulmate.”

"Do you..." Dry sobs stick in your throat, but the ecstatic warmth of his touch to your skin is its own answer. "Do you...have a tattoo of a blue morpho butterfly on your ribcage?"

He lets go of your ankle and starts to pull his button up shirt out of the waistband of his pants. Pulling it up to expose his right side. The perfect little butterfly at the top of his ribcage showing against his skin.

The whole rest of the room has gone silent around you, but neither you or Javi has noticed in the least. The whole rest of the world might have ceased to exist and you would never have known the difference. "This is unbelievable..." you breathe, reaching out to touch his skin with the same reverence and gentle care than he caressed your ankle.

“You- you - when did you get this?” He asks seriously, voice barely above a whisper.

"Eight years ago." Please let it be true, please let it be true...

He nods, his smile starting to stretch his face. “May, right?”

"Right." All at once the water spills over, two tears streaking down your cheeks. "Oh my god..."

“I cannot believe it.” He gasps, reaching for your cheek and wiping away your tears before he frowns. “Unless….you don’t like that?” He asks, wondering why you are crying.

"Like it?" A disbelieving laugh blows the entire thought away and you take his hand in yours. "I'm overjoyed."

“Fantastic.” He allows himself to be happy. To show it on his face and he beams. “That’s fantastic.”

“Can I…” It all sort of washes over you in a wave of too many things to parcel them all out from each other. “Can I…Give you a hug or something? I don’t even know what comes next. I just…I can’t believe it.”

“I want to kiss you.” He confesses. Now understanding why he was so drawn to you. You were like the flame to his moth. He couldn’t resist your pull.

"Thank god," you almost burst out laughing, barely containing the sound. "I wasn't sure if that was too much to ask for."

It’s like a scene in a movie, you are still laughing as he cups your head in his hands and lunges forward. Kissing you with joy and elation, groaning immediately when your lips touch his.

It isn't as though you've never been kissed. Kissed well, even. But this leaves every other good kiss so far behind that the trail of dust would stretch for miles. The warmth and welcome of him is all consuming, to the point that you nearly slide out of your seat just to get closer to him and sink farther into the kiss.

He loses all concept of time, of space, as he kisses you. Everything has faded into the background or completely disappears. Wondering at how right this feels.

It’s only when you come out of it — breaking the kiss for air and barely open your eyes to be able to look your soulmate in the face again — that you realize that everyone else in the room has erupted into whistles, cheers, and applause.

Javi starts to blush, looking around the room sheepishly and then back at you. Starting to giggle and he leans in to kiss you again. “My soulmate.”

"My soulmate." The word sounds so incredible breathed against his lips.

“Let’s get married.” Javi blurts out impulsively, grinning at you.

The rush of your heartbeat rockets through the roof, but you cling to him and some sort of ecstatic, nearly crazed laugh crosses your lips. "Yes." No hesitation. No worries. No second guessing. Just the absolute certainty that this is meant to be.

“Yes?” He is almost in disbelief and then you nod, cupping his face and kissing him back. “Yes!” He shouts and leaps up to drag you up and spin you around the room. “We are getting married!”

Gasps and more applause are the least of it, as it seems that everyone in the ballroom crushes in around the both of you in a flurry of excitement. Questions come from all angles, but you can barely hear them. can barely process any of it. It's a whole world just swirling around you when all that matters is him.

It’s only the sound of others cheering that brings him back down to reality. Making him turn and look at the cast, crew and production team clapping and grinning. He gives an embarrassed chuckle and turns back to you, his forehead pressed against yours. “We have made a scene.” He hums, smiling.

“I don’t mind,” you tell him, still giggling softly in his arms. “Not at all.”

“You don’t?” That makes him chuckle happily. “That’s good.”

Moira and Leslie are practically in giggling tears to your left, ready to swoop in and hug you into oblivion and Tamara looks like she’s ready to cry too.

“What?” She huffs when Jason prods her. “It’s so romantic!”

“Romantic, yes.” He rolls his eyes, “but what are we going to doooooo about it?” He’s secretly a big softie. “That means the walk through is done for the day. They are going to go get married.”

“So? I don’t mind ending early so soulmates can go get married.” In fact she’s positively gooey over the idea for about three seconds until she remembers herself. “Oh! Oh!! I can marry you!” Tamara crows, all but clapping with joy. “If you want me to, I mean! I got certified last year for my cousin.”

“Now that is an idea.” Leslie agrees with a growing smile. “We have almost everything we need right here.”

Javi knows that he would give you anything when you turn those wide, hopeful eyes on him. “Do you want to get married here?” He asks. “I don’t mind.”

“Is that okay with you?” If you’re being honest, you’ve dreamt of having your wedding here for just as long as you’ve worked at Hazelwood, but you would understand if he had something else in mind. “It’s fitting, really, isn’t it? Since we met here.”

"It is perfect." He would do anything to keep that look of absolute happiness on your face. "It will be part of our story, woven into the fabric of our lives."

“Do you really want to do it now?” The idea is so wonderfully romantic that you almost sigh. “Like tonight?”

His eyes shift back towards Leslie. "Can we make it happen?" He asks her. "Small, beautiful. Involving anyone and everyone who wants to participate?" He knows he doesn't have family and you've not mentioned any, so it is almost fitting that your friends and work family be involved. The cast and crew almost look giddy at the idea of contributing.

“Absolutely.” She kinds around at all the eager faces. “We have plenty of hands to help. You two go and get yourselves ready. Whatever you two need personally. We’ll take care of food, music, decorations, and everything else.” Your boss glances at her watch and flashes you a smile. It’s just the middle of the afternoon now, giving everyone plenty of time. “How does a seven o’clock wedding sound?”

“Does that work?” He asks you, not sure what you would want to happen before this wedding. “I will need to get you rings.”

“You need a ring too,” you remind him, with that glowing smile still in tact on your face. “We would need to find a boutique, I guess? It’s not like I have a wedding dress hanging around in my closet.” Some girls do. Dresses passed down from generation to generation. You’re not that lucky, unfortunately, and even if you were in better terms with your family…they’re all on the east coast anyway.

“A dress, yes, yes.” He nods enthusiastically and then he frowns. “I- the studio car brought me.” He looks over at Scott, who grins. “I think we can make some arrangements.” He offers, walking over with the director. “What do you think about filming some of this? Obviously we wouldn’t announce it now, but think of the press when the film is being released!” He practically has hearts in his eyes over the prospect.

The thought almost stuns you, but within seconds you’re shrugging your shoulders and looking up at Javi. “I don’t mind, if you don’t. It would be nice to have footage of the wedding.” Of marrying your soulmate.

“Javi?” His brows raise as he looks over at him. “Imagine the press junket. The curiosity ticket sales. People will flock to watch a movie that brought soulmates together.” Javi chuckles and nods. “Fine, but we get a copy of all of the film and we approve when it’s released and what is shown.”

“Deal.” Scott offers his hand to seal it, and is practically giddy when Javi shakes it.

“Do you have anyone you want to call?” You ask him quietly. “A friend you would want to stand up for you? Or family nearby?”

“I do have some friends.” He admits with a grin. “What about you?”

“She’s already here.” And standing maybe four feet away, at that. You look over to Moira with a grin. “You’re up for being a whirlwind maid of honor, right?”

“Of course!” Moira squeals and Alex grins as he slides up beside you.

“Why don’t you let me walk you down the aisle?” His eyes are serious, even when his tone and grin are silly. “It would be an honor to serve.”

Matching his playfully nonchalant expression, you shrug your shoulders as if you’re not sure. “I dunno, my man. That’s a big ask. I’m gonna expect you to have my back and be ready to step up when shit hits the fan. That sound doable?” The fact is, you don’t really know how your Mom would feel if she were here, or your brother, and your father died when you were just a teenager. So an offer from a new friend is as good as any other you’re going to get.

His brows pull together and he purses his lips seriously. “Absolutely.” He huffs, nodding. “I’m here for at the fan hitting shit.”

“Then I guess we’re gonna go for a walk together tonight.” It’s just about the most casual way you could ever decide such an important thing, but there is something almost brotherly about the way he’s warmed up to you. Once he knew you weren’t going to fall at his feet, he seemed to instantly decide you are his friend.

“Awesome.” He perks up and throws his arm around you. “I’ve got a suit in my car.” He winks at Javi playfully. “Never know when I’m going to meet my soulmate.” He jokes, knowing full well it’s just that he had picked up his dry cleaning and his agent always wants him to have dress clothes on hand in case. Just in case.

“For your sake, I hope they turn out to be a very energetic person,” you tease, but being your attention back to Javi quickly. “We have a lot to do in just as couple of hours.”

“You two go, get all the stuff you need and we will be waiting.” Alex unwraps his arm from around you as Jason comes up and shrugs. “While I can’t do much – what’s your favorite flowers?” He asks.

Flowers sounds like a hell of a lot to you, and you look to Javi for confirmation. "I don't mind what they are, but I think they should be white. Right?"

“Whatever color you want.” Javi tells you indulgently. “It doesn’t have to be white.”

"Really?" That surprises you, and you feel like you have to check with him before you actually give a real answer.

“Do you want the flowers to be white?” He asks, frowning slightly as he wonders if he has misspoken. “It is beautiful. But colors are beautiful as well if you want a bright arrangement.”

"I actually really like Gerber Daisies..." A flower you were always told was childish and unserious. How can a flower have a maturity level? "The big, colorful ones? I think they're beautiful."

“Then you should have Gerber Daisies.” He can’t call them to mind right away, but he is sure they are stunning. “Jason?” He looks over to him. “Can you find her the most beautiful Gerber daisies?”

"On it." He promises. It's not a well-known fact, since little about him is well known at all, but he grew up in and around his parents' florist business. He can definitely do a daisy wedding bouquet. "It'll be beautiful."

“Does that work for you?” Javi asks as he looks back at you in complete adoration.

"Absolutely." Honestly, the fact that everyone is pitching in so quickly and willingly is magical on its own. Everything else is a beautiful bonus.

“Good.” He grasps your hands and brings them up to his lips to kiss the back of them. “Shall we go? Get what we need?”

You and Javi head out of the museum – thanking Scott for the offer of a ride, but you have your car. This is something that you want to be able to do in private, and for you that means time that is only spent between you and your soulmate.

It might not be a flashy car, but she's gotten you through thick and thin, so when you climb in beside him you let out a contented little hum. "There's a soulmate boutique in downtown. They say they have everything a couple needs but...maybe you have someplace in mind that you would rather go? It's your call." Though it calls itself a boutique, the place is more like an emporium. Couples who want to get married quickly aren't looking to run all over the place to get what they need, so it's more or less a one-stop shop for wedding wear.

“Call.” His eyes widen and he pulls out his phone. “Yes, that’s fine. I need to make a call. See if they are in L.A.” He looks over at you and grins. “My good friend. I want him to come.”

"You do that, I'll drive," you laugh, turning the key in the ignition and heading out of the museum parking lot.

“Thank you.” He quickly pulls up his contacts and selects Nick’s number. “Hopefully he isn’t filming somewhere.”

The line rings three times before it connects, and Olivia Cage's smooth, musical voice comes over the line. "Hello Javi!"

“Olivia!” He lights up when he hears her voice and he shifts in the passenger seat. “Please tell me you and Nick are in L.A.?” He begs, immediately launching into the reason for his call.

"Javi! Javi! Slow down, sweetheart." She laughs when he immediately starts talking to quickly for her to keep up with. "Nick and Addy are just watching a movie in the living room, let me hand the phone over."

There is a little commotion on the other end of the line, but after a few seconds, Nick's voice comes over loud and clear. "Javi! We're at home tonight. Did you want to get together?"

“Could you be at Hazelwood Park in Santa Barbara by seven tonight?” Javi asks Nick, beaming through the phone. “I’m getting married.”

"You're get—you're getting married?!" Nick practically shouts on the other end of the line, and you laugh beside him with equal joy. "How?" Nick breathes. "Who? And of course we'll be there!"

“Well, I think the normal way.” He huffs out a laugh and almost looks like he will tear up for a second when he looks over at you as you drive. “My soulmate, Nick. I met my soulmate today. Not today. I’ve actually met her several times before but we— she has my scar. And I have her tattoo.” He rambles, knowing Nick will follow easily, they had spent far too much time together for him not to.

"The girl with the butterfly tattoo!" Nick howls with glee. He's seen that butterfly a hundred times -- whenever they go swimming – and knows how badly Javi has wanted to meet his soulmate. The instinct to love without restriction is at the heart of who Javi is. "Absolutely. Absolutely we'll be there. How can we help?"

“Just be there!” He laughs. “We are getting our rings and a dress for her now. The house should be set by the time we get back. They are filming my movie there.” He explains. “The cast and crew are going to be there too.”

"Do you need me to swing by your place and bring you a suit?" Nick offers, knowing Javi has a few particular pieces left in his wardrobe that he dearly loves.

Javi bites his lip and looks over at you. “Do you mind?” He asks you. “I have a suit that would be perfect.”

"Just tell me which one, buddy." Nick already has a key to Javi's house and knows his alarm code, so it's just a matter of swinging by. The place may technically be unfinished, but he's spent more time there than anyone besides Javi himself.

He looks over at you. “The royal blue Armani.” He decides. “Ferragamo loafers and the Givenchy cufflinks.”

It sounds extremely fancy and extremely expensive, and you hope that this boutique has something even half as spectacular for you so you can match him. Headed down the backroads into downtown, you reach for Javi's hand as you drive and give it a squeeze.

Nick assures him that he will get everything Javi needs and he’s quickly hanging up the phone. “That’s alright, right? Royal blue?” He asks, hoping he didn’t mess up.

"It sounds beautiful," you promise him.

“Shit.” He frowns. “I forgot to tell him to get a belt.”

"Don't worry," you urge him. "If that's the only thing we forget tonight, I think we'll be in excellent shape. But if it bothers you, I'm sure we can get one at the boutique. It won't be half as nice as the rest of your suit, but it will do the trick."

“You must pick out any dress you want.” His eyes light up happily. “So they have rings there? At this boutique?”

"Supposedly there is a jewelry department, a dress one, one for suits, all of it." You glance over at him while you drive, heart fluttering when you get a look at his perfect curls and sharp jaw. "One of the other docents went there when she met her soulmate last year."

“That is good.” Javi agrees easily, reaching for your hand and wishing it was your left. That one is firmly on the steering wheel. “If you do not like the rings there, we will find one you do like.” He promises. “I want you to love your rings.”

“I’m not picky,” you assure him, steering the car through the winding streets. “It’s more important to me that they come from you than what they are. So I’m sure we’ll be able to find something we both like.”

“You should be picky.” He frowns. “I hope you are wearing them for years. Until they are upgraded.”

“The only way I’m taking one of those rings off for more than a cleaning is if it’s getting passed on to our grandchild,” you tell him with absolute certainty. Your eyes flick back to the road as you move over a lane, the enormous boutique building is coming up on the right. “But I don’t think it will be hard to find something I love.”

“Grandchild.” He whispers the word, eyes bright at the mere mention of something so fantastical that he hadn’t been able to imagine it before now.

“Too soon?” You cringe slightly, wondering if talking about a family is the line that shouldn’t be crossed yet despite the fact that this is your soulmate and you’re on your way to buy things for your wedding.

“No.” He practically yelps the word and twists in his seat to vigorously shake his head. “I want kids.” He promises. “Lots of kids. I mean- as many as you want to have.” He amends and looks nervous, like you might shut down the idea completely if he doesn’t say what you want.

Carefully turning the car into the building’s lot and putting it in park, you take both of Javi’s hands and offer him the absolute softest smile you are capable of conjuring in this moment. Who hurt this poor, sweet puppy dog of a man that he looks so afraid to talk to you?

“I want a big family too,” you promise him. “But if we ever disagree on what we want, or I get too excited and jump ahead on something that you’re not comfortable with, I need you to tell me, okay handsome? And I’ll tell you, too.”

“Yes.” He agrees quickly, relaxing because of your soft touch. It’s already soothing to him. “I have to confess…” he bites his lip. “I have had relationships before.” He confesses, hoping that you will not judge him too harshly for that.

“I have too.” A lot of people don’t. Preferring to wait for their soulmate. But you had been worried on that point. “I…didn’t want to meet you one day and know nothing.”

Something dark flashes in Javi’s eyes. Desire and want, twisted with the kind of possessiveness that springs out of love. “That’s good.” He rasps out, his tongue wetting his bottom lip.

The change in his expression is fast enough that you miss it when you glance away for just a half a second to undo your seatbelt, but you lean back over again to kiss his cheek right after. “Let’s go inside?”

“Of course.” He smiles as he nods, squeezing your hand and hating to let it go when he has to unclip his own seatbelt and get out of the car. He will have to get you a new one, right away. Missing the garage that had been full of sporty, flashy cars for a moment, he waits for you to walk around to him since he is closer to the shop door.

Your hand slips into his again with ease, and the beat that your heart skips is made up for when you both hurry inside the building, eager to start getting ready for the night.

“I have never been in a soulmate boutique.” Javi confesses as he reaches forward to open the door for you. “You will have to show me where to go.”

“I can help with that.” A friendly woman with a blonde bob at the reception desk in the front of the store waves you both over. “My name is Cindy. How can I help you today?”

“Hello, Cindy.” Javi holds your hand proudly and guides you over to the desk. “This gorgeous creature is my soulmate and we are getting married today.”

"Well, congratulations." She smiles broadly, as though that isn't a sentence she hears once at day at bare minimum. "We can help with as much or as little as you need. Everything from rings to the dress to a suit, flowers, we can even book you in at the soulmate chapel in the Arts District."

"We have a venue and flowers," you tell her, feeling like you're vibrating beside Javi as you hold his hand. "And he has a suit. We'll both need rings and I need a dress."

"We can absolutely do that for you." Emerging from behind the desk, Cindy beckons for the two of you to follow her around a corner into the belly of the boutique. "Come right this way and we'll start with rings."

“Wait.” Javi pulls short, tugging on your arm. “When you pick your dress, should I see it?” He asks seriously. “I thought Americans believe it’s bad luck?”

"Some do." Though you shrug one shoulder. "I don't mind, though. If you don't."

He blinks in surprise and then smiles, lunging forwards to kiss your lips. “Yes. I want to see.” He admits with a grin. “I want to see all the dresses you could choose and see why you pick the one you do.”

"And I want your opinion," you tell him honestly. Every time he kisses you, you feel like you're melting, so the gooey smile on your face is pretty appropriate right now. "I want to know which one you like best, too."

“I would probably say buy them all.” He chuckles. “Wear one every year on our anniversary. Which will be today.” He beams again as he realizes that.

"Valentine's Day is the day we met." The reminder is sweet, soothing the ache of every lonely Valentine's past with the thought, and the two of you walk on together easily. The jewelry section of the store is immense, with a half dozen display cases full of beautifully glinting rings in all sizes, shapes, and styles.

“There are so many.” Javi chokes out, looking around the large, very brilliantly lit display cases. Every diamond sparkles and he knows you will find something you love. “We have a variety of options and price points.” She tells you both discreetly.

"My taste is fairly simple," you promise. He did offer to pay for everything, but you have no intention of going crazy. "And it doesn't have to be a diamond. There are plenty of beautiful stones."

He looks positively offended over that. “Did you know that diamonds are only the fifth most expensive gemstone per carat?” He asks you. “What is your favorite color?”

"It sounds silly." Another shrug, but at least you don't feel silly about this saleswoman seeing the two of you getting to know each other. She must certainly see couples getting married who have known each other far less. "But I like silver a lot."

“Silver.” He frowns slightly and tilts his head. “Would you like your setting to be silver?” He asks seriously.

"It doesn't have to be so serious, Javi," you assure him, smiling softly because this man just does that to you. You feel soft around him every second. "If you like yellow gold better, your ring doesn't have to match mine."

“I just want you to have exactly what you want.” Too often he had been accused of being too cheery and now you are telling him that he’s too serious. “I want to match your ring.”

"Is white gold, or silver, or what have you...is that okay with you?"

“Any of it.” He shrugs. His pinky ring is gold, but he will be fine with that. It’s on his right hand anyway.

"Then let's take a look." There are no shortage of choices, so who knows what you'll find. But you gravitate toward the nearest case with ease.

The two of you debate size, shape, gemstones. Laughing together as Javi points out one ring that is particularly hideous and at least you can both agree on that one to be marked off the list. Javi wishes for you to have something large and flashy and you want something more subdued.

It takes quite a bit of back and forth before you at least nail down a design. Three stone rings seem to be both of your favorite, and after a little more debating back and forth, Cindy disappears to another case on the other side of the jewelry section and comes back with a few options that have impressive center stones with dainty accents. It's the style of the design that you favor with slightly larger stones like Javi prefers. "They're not the biggest stones we have," she cautions, not wanting you to feel overwhelmed. "But they are stand out in terms of cut and quality. Very eye-catching."

“What do you think?” Javi wants you to love your rings, but he also wants to make sure that no one thinks that he is a pauper. It’s egotistical, but it’s the truth.

"They're still quite big." That isn't up for debate, but Javi seems to be quite certain that the cost is not an issue, and has barely looked at price tags so far. A conversation about his net worth is going to have to happen at some point because he's very clearly in a different tax bracket than you are, but that's for later. "The pear-shaped and the princess cut are the prettiest, I think...which do you like?"

“Whichever you want.” He would have chosen the emerald cut, but he would rather you have the choice. “I promise, I will not be upset.”

"Can I try on the pear?" Trying it on makes it seem to much more real, and Cindy hands you the ring carefully from its velvet stand.

"This will work with any band that you like, the setting is nicely elevated to compliment almost any choice." She tells you, but you barely hear it. it's like magic happens as that ring slides onto your finger, and you gasp quietly under your breath.

It’s perfect. Javi stares at the ring on your finger. The shape of the ring making your hand look even more elegant. The stone is not so overpowering that it looks like you are a child playing dress up with your mother’s rings. “Sweetheart?”

"I love it..." you breathe, hardly able to believe it's so perfect, and you look up at him with watery eyes. "The same way I love hearing you call me sweetheart."

He melts. His face softening into something akin to pure wonder as he looks down at the ring on your finger and he kneels down to one knee in front of you. “This is the one?” He asks softly, holding your hand and looking up at you. “Just like you are my one?”

“It’s perfect. Like you’re perfect.” Having a deeply romantic soulmate was always something you had wished for, but the way Javi seems to wear his heart of his sleeve is so much more than you ever could have hoped for.

He surges back to his feet to press his lips to yours. Ecstatic that this is happening. His soulmate.

Cindy only smiles, waiting for the moment to be enjoyed, before she begins to bring out bands for both of you. They rang from elaborate to simple, but she has a feeling this gentleman will prefer the elaborate.

“You should have this one.” Javi points to a band that is a solid circle of Princess cut diamonds to make up the surface. “Since you liked the princess cut solitaire too.”

"It's stunning." His flare for showy rings is very apparent, but in the moment you're so swept up that you forget to care. The gorgeous rings will be well loved and well cared for and that is what matters to you. "Do you want something ornate as well? Carved, or even with a diamond of your own?"

“What about this one?” He asks, pointing to a matching men’s ring. The circle of Princess cut diamonds is surrounded by the thick white gold band on either side.

The channel-set stones wink and shimmer in the bright store lighting, as if to say that completely agree with his choice. "A matching set," you agree with a nod.

It is a beautiful ring, but anything you choose he would be happy to wear. “Then I think that we have found our rings.” He picks it up and slides it on his finger to see how it fits and practically giggles with excitement when he sees a wedding band on his hand.

"I'll box these pieces up for you." Cindy offers, but pauses before gathering up the three-stone ring. "Unless you'd prefer to present your soulmate with her engagement ring now?" She offers, looking to Javi. She can easily just remove the tag and add it to the growing total. "I can retrieve the ring in her size from the case for you."

“Yes.” Javi decides instantly, beaming at you. “I want her to wear it out of the boutique.”

"Just one moment." She thought he might feel that way, and she disappears just only long enough to polish the ring and clip off the tag before bringing it back to him in its velvet box to be presented to you however he chooses. "I'll go and let the dress department know to expect you. Just move into the next room when you're ready," she tells you both with a sunny smile.

“I wish that there was something more romantic about this.” Javi confesses. “Imagine you are at your bench, sweetheart.” He decides, grinning at you. “Waves crashing all around you and the smell of the ocean hovering.”

"It's our bench now." It had been, to you, since that day before Christmas. You had spent too much time sitting there and thinking of him. Thinking of that day. Wondering if you would ever see him again.

“Our bench.” He agrees, beaming at you again as he guides you over to a bench that is not your bench, but it will substitute just fine. “Close your eyes.” He begs when he has you sat down.

You comply without hesitation, sitting up straight on the small bench with your hands on your knees. Life with Javi seems like it will have a certain flair for the dramatic – or at least special occasions will.

He’s sinking down to a knee again. This time with tears starting to form in his own eyes. This isn’t a movie. This is real life and it seems like he is finally getting his happily ever after. Murmuring your name softly, he smiles. “You are my soulmate.” He whispers. “The other half of my very existence. I have waited and wondered and dreamed about you my entire life and now you are here.” He swallows harshly as your eyes twitch. He opens the ring box and takes your hand. “I can’t live another day without you being my wife. Marry me. Marry me and make me complete.”

His voice is slightly choked, filled with emotion, and the tears that press against the back of your own eyes just from hearing it would surely be spilling over if your eyes were opening now. But since you've been instructed to keep them shut, you lean forward with your hands out and find his broad shoulders -- the pathway that bring your hands up to cup his cheeks. "The sooner the better," you promise him, with such a broad smile that even your soft promise comes out on a giddy giggle. "Now can I open my eyes to kiss you or are you going to come to me?"

“Oh, uh, yeah.” He had halfway expected you to open them when he asked the question, not expecting you to wait for his cue. “Open your eyes sweetheart.”

They are only open for a half second. Just long enough to lean all the way over to kiss him. But it's enough. It's all you need. It's all you need to be able to embrace this moment fully (and tearfully) with your soulmate as he slides your new engagement ring onto your finger just hours before you plan on marrying.

Javi sinks into the kiss, gathering you close and sighing against your lips happily until a discreet cough breaks through the fuzzy haze of love. “Pardon me.” Cindy smiles when he looks over at him. “The girls are pulling a number of dresses for you to try on.” She tells you.

“Thank you.” You’re not going to be embarrassed at all about the kiss. Not when you feel like you’ve waited three lifetimes to find this kind of joy and anticipation for the future.

Javi rubs his thumb over the ring happily and stands, pulling you up gently. “Time to pick out your dress.”

The girls as Cindy calls them, are two very sweet young women just a touch younger than you that run the dress department in this store. One blonde and one redhead, they are surrounded by a seeming sea of plush fabrics when you and Javi walk over together.

Javi’s eyes widen and he looks around in shock at all the styles, materials, laces. It’s so much that he wouldn’t have a clue where to begin.

"I think we're both a little spoiled for choice," you tell them, feeling very much like you agree with the awestruck and overwhelmed look on Javi's face. "Where would you recommend that we start?"

The girls are quick to start bringing out dresses to get a a sense of your style and preferences so they can match you up with the perfect dress.

Several are too revealing for you taste, and some are far too complicated in their designs. You're not looking to wear architecture on your wedding night, you want to be able to move. "Is there a such thing as a traditional dress without a train?" You ask, instantly feeling like you must be the pickiest person in the world for even asking. "I—I like to dance, that's all. And trains always look silly to me when they're bustled."

“No train.” Javi can agree with that and when you give him a questioning look, he nods in agreement. “I want you to have exactly what you want.”

"Does 'traditional' mean you're looking for a larger dress?" The chipper blonde asks, looking between both you and Javi. It's clear you're making the decision together. "Like a ballgown? Something with that princess feel?"

“She is a princess.” Javi immediately jumps into the idea feet first. “Better than any Disney character mister Walt Disney could think of himself.”

He loves it so much that you don't even consider not trying one on. "Let's see what a ballgown looks like." You agree, indicating one with a sweetheart neckline and lots of intricate lace that is hanging on the back of a dressing room door.

“You don’t have to pick something you think I will like.” He promises as they start to take dresses away and rush off to pull more. “This is your dress. I want you to feel as beautiful as you are.”

"I've never worn a ballgown." You bend down to lay a kiss on his lips before getting up to go into the dressing room. "It can't hurt to find out."

“You might hate it.” He snorts in amusement. “But it does fit the theme of the house.”

"I guess we're about to find out." Flashing him a broad smile, you disappear into the dressing room to tackle that great big, beautiful dress and see how it feels. It takes several minutes of finesse and manuevering with the help of one of the girls, but when you emerge you carefully school your reaction so you can see what Javi thinks first. The big bell of the gown's skirt is lighter than you expected but it has a seriously satisfying swish and you really do feel like fairy tale royalty.

“Magnificent.” Javi murmurs in awe, freezing mid turn as he stares at you. “You look- like a princess.”

“It’s huge.” Barely able to contain a giggle as your eyes widen, the mirror in front of you contains an image you barely recognize…but in the best way possible. It’s the version of you that you used to dream about. Fairy tales and all. So when you turn to look at Javi again, you’re almost as awestruck as he is. “It’s almost perfect.”

“Almost?” He tilts his head to the side and frowns as he looks over the dress again. “What is it missing?”

“It’s…a bit large.” You laugh, swinging your hips a little so the skirt imitates a large bell. “I feel a bit like I ought to be hung in a church in this thing.”

“So a smaller version of the skirt?” He asks. “Or do you want a form fitting dress?”

“Just a small ballgown, I think?” The question really goes to the two women helping you, but they are already moving to sort through what they have brought out. One has a halter and too-low neckline. One is encrusted with beading and jewels. One has large, poofy, sheer sleeves. None of them are quite right, but you try on a simple taffeta version of the silhouette. Just plain and simple. And that is nearly perfect.

Simple is generally how you like things, and this excursion into wedding dresses seems to prove it to you, but when you go out to show Javi, you can tell right away that he feels the same way you do. There is something missing.

“What about ivory?” The dresses have been separated by color and none of the ivory dresses have been chosen. “Or do you want pure white?” He wonders if it is a faux pas or if it’s just preference.

“Ivory could be good.” For that matter, it doesn’t have to be white for you to love it. But that is the easiest option.

“I have just the one.” The round-faced redhead promises, ushering you back into the dressing room. “Not too poofy, no train, fit for a queen.”

Javi stares at the display of accessories, biting his lip as he sees a tiara and he knows he wants you to wear one. It would be perfect. His princess.

There is a great deal of rustling and laughter and excited chatter coming from the dressing room, and when you emerge you’re wearing possibly the single most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen in real life — let alone most beautiful thing you have ever worn.

The silk jacquard fabric is luxurious and detailed without being extravagant or ostentatious. The simple corset bodice and Basque waist make you look as elegant as royalty. It has a full skirt for that princess affect but it isn’t so big that it makes it difficult to move, and best of all it feels right.

“What do you think?” You ask Javi, but frankly you’re dabbing away tears and it’s obvious how much you love the dress. This is your wedding dress.

The moment he sees the softness in your eyes, he knows you’ve fallen in love with it. You look like a scene from a movie. The big reveal of the princess at the top of the stairs where everyone turns and gaps in amazement and the prince at the bottom thanks his lucky stars that you are his. Which is what Javi is doing right now. The tiara in his hand, carefully removed from the display case, seems to perfectly match and he smiles. “It’s only missing this, princesa.”

The headpiece is made up of stars like something out of a painting you once saw in a history book, and it feels like such a silly thing to bend your head so he can set it in your hair (thank goodness you’re having a good hair day!) but it feels perfect. It feels extraordinary. And standing next to him is the first time you’ve truly felt extraordinary in your entire life.

You steal his breath when he steps back and looks at you. Tears instantly forming in his eyes and his chin trembles because he is so overwhelmed that this beautiful creature is his soulmate. It’s such a pure moment that not even his anxiety or self doubt could break through the euphoria.

“I hope those are good tears,” you half-chuckle through your own.

“The best.” He manages to choke out before reaching for your hands. “This is it, no? This is the one?” He turns you so you can look in the mirror at your reflection with the tiara on.

“I think this is it.” It’s so much more than you would have thought you wanted. It’s eye-catching and irrevocably meant to be the center of attention. But with him, you somehow don’t mind so much. As if having Javi there at your side was the piece you needed to keep you grounded and safe all along

"It is perfect." He promises, honestly believing that he will look underdressed beside you. "You are perfect." He amends with an indulgent smile before he nods. "We will take it." He announces to the sales girls. "But you need shoes underneath." His eyes light up mischievously. "What about those wedding sneakers I always see in movies?"

“Sneakers?” After all the bling and excess he’s picked out, your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like…tennis shoes?”

He laughs at your surprise. "High heels hurt, no?" He asks. "Tiaras and tennis shoes, you could start a trend!"

The easy, joyous laugh you share is so sweet and so unrestrained that it has to be punctuated with another kiss. “Would you find it odd if I said I like high heels?” You ask after. “I’ve been wearing them for work and things for a long time and I don’t mind them too much anymore. And they always look so beautiful.”

"Then you must find the most beautiful high heels to go with your dress." He insists indulgently. "Do you have a favorite brand? Louboutin? Manolo Blahnik? Bottega Veneta?"

Ahha. There it is. You think, as he starts listing off designers you could never afford in your wildest dreams. “I just…get the most comfortable heels off the clearance rack at DSW.”

"Comfortable." He understands that but he huffs slightly. "Get whatever shoes you love best." He urges you. "The price doesn't matter."

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” The best you can do is appeal to the two girls, and to Cindy, who has walked up to check on you in the meantime. “The only thing is…I always thought…you know how some brides wear blue shoes as their something blue? I always liked that idea.”

“Then I have the perfect pair.” Cindy gushes. “They are a pair I have lusted after forever.”

You give her your shoe size and she disappears into the shoe department to dig up her dream heel. In just a few minutes she returns to the pair of you with two boxes in hand. “They’re a little bit iconic,” she says sheepishly, opening up the top box. “These are the Carrie Bradshaw heels. Gorgeous even without the Sex and the City reference, but that sort of makes it fun in my opinion. They come in a royal blue and a light shade of sky.”

Javi recognizes the brand and he tilts his head as she opens them up. They are both gorgeous and he wonders if you will go for the bolder blue or keep it subtle under your dress. You might not even like the shoes at all.

"They're...gorgeous." The awestruck look on your face doesn't quite match your reaction to your dress, but it certainly is one that is both impressed and surprised. "Is this sort of what you had in mind?" You ask him, looking between the two shades of blue and the soft, wide brown eyes of your soulmate.

"This is deep blue, like the ocean when you look out over the cliffs." He muses as he touches on of the edge of one of the shoes. "This one..." he moves over to the light blue one. "It looks like a – a – I don't know..." He admits with a smile, looking back at you. "Which one do you like?"

"Well, when you put it like that." You touch the edge of the box holding the deeper blue shoes with your fingertips. "It has to be the ocean, doesn't it?"

“I think so, but….” He shrugs. “I don’t want you to just choose what you think I want.”

In the end, you try both pairs and decide on the lighter blue as a compliment to the inviting ivory of the dress. Star earrings are found that compliment the tiara Javi picked out, and it is all carefully packed up to be piled up in the trunk of you car and driven back to Hazelwood.

"Is there anything else you need?" You ask him when you climb back into the car together. There cant possibly be a single thing left you need, but you don't know what he could be missing aside from the suit that his friend is bringing for him.

“I think that we have everything.” He chews his lip and smiles at you. “Since it’s last minute, I asked if craft services could cater again.” He tells you, having looped the production team in on the text messages and Scott had talked to them and reported back that they had happily agreed. “It’s going to be mostly finger foods? Is that okay?”

"It could be nothing at all in a little soulmate chapel in the middle of nowhere and it would still be perfect," you promise him. "I only care that it's you."

“Then let’s go get married, sweetheart.” Javi beams as you start the car, ready to do just that.

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