#tried to buy a movie today and was shot down three separate times before being allowed to and now i don't want the movie anymore.

[nexus-nebulae]

quick question. if someone says they're "trying to change" but still after 5+ years has shown zero effort (like, even when called out in conversation about it they still have the excuse "sorry i wasn't thinking about that" EVERY. TIME). are they actually trying

[blessednereid]

Pity the Living

Daniel Sharman x Reader Series

A/N: The Much Requested, and By Requested, I mean @rogershoe wanted me to write this, MY DANIEL SHARMAN FANFICTION!!!!!! The character that Y/N plays is based on my OC for FTWD and is not an actual character in FTWD. Basic Premise of the setting for this chapter is that they're in high-school/ secondary school. But for the majority of the story(minus flashbacks) it's set in 2016/17 when s3 of FTWD was filmed.

Story Summary: When (Y/N) (L/N) reunites with a high-school friend on the set of the job she's been working on for the past 2-3 years, not only is she excited to work with the guy who inspired her to go into acting, but to hear about what he's done since she's seen him. But the more they talk, the more she realizes, this reunion is not going the way she had planned.

CW: Cursing? brief mention of alcohol, anxiety, mentions of food, fake dagger, fake blood, bets,

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Career Day

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Most of the students around you were chorusing to the tune of your school anthem, but not you. You had heard the melody and sung it almost a million times. Whether you were exaggerating or not, not even you knew. Instead, you were whispering and laughing with one of your best friends, Daniel Sharman.

You met Daniel when you first came to the school. You didn't know many people. You didn't even know yourself in this place. It was a completely foreign experience, but he stuck by your side and showed you around.

Since then, you had made friends, joined the swim team, learned your way around the school without ending up in the boys' restrooms instead of the girls' ones. Despite not needing Daniel to show you around anymore, he still provided plenty of comedic support and pick-me-ups and was a great mate all around.

Your teacher had just finished introducing all the parents who were presenting at career day. The assignment being after the presentations were finished, you were supposed to think about what you wanted to be in the future. You had no idea what you wanted to be. But of course… Daniel did.

"An actor."

"An actor?" he nodded. "Like Macbeth?"

"No, Macbeth is a character. An actor is a person who plays the character."

"Why an actor?"

"Dunno. Just seems right."

You frowned. "Huh, that's nice. Knowing what you want to be."

"You could always try acting. It's worth a shot."

"Hah, if I ever tried acting, it would probably be when I'm old, senile, and look like Betty White."

"Oh, come on. You're a great actress!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Sharman?" you gasped.

"Just that you tell fibs and stories as if they were the truth. That's all acting is."

"I DO NOT!"

"How did you convince your mum that your dog jumped onto the table and ate the cake without making any noise last weekend, then?" You opened your mouth to speak before closing it.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teased.

"Shut up, Sharman."

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L/N Residence

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You and Daniel were both swimming in the pool in your backyard when Daniel asked you the question.

"Did you think about it?"

Still floating, you asked, "About what?"

"Acting."

You laughed incredulously. "You were serious?"

"Of course I was." He swam closer to you and pulled your leg down, making you flop around and splash water.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"Was just trying to get your attention," he remarked innocently.

You coughed. "You had it."

"Picture this," he waved you off. "Us, on the red carpet-"

"Who's red carpet?"

"Does it matter? We'll be each other's dates anyways."

"Why is that?" you asked.

"Because we're best friends."

"What if one of us has a boyfriend or girlfriend?"

He shrugged. "Ok, whatever. We're on the red carpet separately. It's both of ours red carpet-"

"So, does that mean we're in a movie together?"

"Yes, Y/N," he muttered exasperatedly.

"But that's impossible?"

"Why do you say that?"

You leaned closer to his ear. "BECAUSE I'M NOT BECOMING AN ACTOR."

He jumped away from you, proceeding to splash you with water.

"Mark my words. I know talent when I see it."

You sighed. "Could this just be you not wanting to be lonely in the acting world?"

He jutted his lip and spoke in a whiny voice. "Maybe…"

You laughed before splashing a giant wave of water at him. While he still had water in his eyes, you dove under and pulled him down.

He flailed around before his head popped up, and he calmed down.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"PAYBACK, SHARMAN!"

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Announcement

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The intercom gave a heavy buzz, and static-y noises ran amok over the building before a voice actually came through the speakers.

"Hello, Teachers, Students, and Faculty. Welcome back to school. We hope that you all enjoyed your holidays and got the rest you needed to pay attention in class today," the last part was passive. Your principal gave more announcements for clubs and sports around the school, such as upcoming games or reminders for students to buy the school yearbook.

You were nodding along interested, or looking for interest really when something caught your best friend's attention.

"The school will also be hosting its first-ever play, Romeo and Juliet. Interested people should report to the music room before the end of the week to receive information."

You saw Daniel's eyes widen only moments before he spoke up. "Hey," he waved at you. "You should audition!"

"Daniel, are you insane?"

He chuckled, "No, but I think you'd like it."

You tried arguing, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. "You're the one who said you didn't know what you wanted to do after you graduated. Doing this cannot hurt."

"Yeah, it can't hurt until I trip on my costumes and break my neck!"

"That rarely ever happens," he said exasperatedly. "Ok, how about this? You audition, and if you end up getting a role and actually doing the play, I'll give you fifty pounds."

You squinted. "Do you even have fifty pounds to give me?"

"Do you even have to ask," he feigned shock in the accusation? You gave a sour face before he truthfully answered. "Fine, I don't have it now. But I will by the time the play comes around."

"What do I get just for auditioning?"

"I'll convince my mum to make that cake you like."

"Fine."

"BUT!" he exclaimed. "You have to audition for Juliet."

"You're kidding?"

He laughed. "No, I'm not. You have to audition for Juliet."

"I hate you," you mumbled before sighing a whispered 'fine.'

He gave a toothy smile. "Then we have a deal."

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Auditions

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You reluctantly walked onto the stage, Daniel's widening grin so visible in the audience. He said that he only put his name on the audition sheet so he could watch the auditions. He would've already been gone by the time it was his turn.

"Hello, My name is Y/n L/n, and I am auditioning for Juliet," your lips pressing into a straight line after saying the sentence.

You stammered through your first few lines. "Sh-Shall I speak ill of him— that is my husband?" You said with a laugh.

"Ah," you paused and clicked your tongue. "Poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name… When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?"

You said your following line in an accusatory manner. "But wherefore, villain... didst thou kill my cousin?" you said, though your voice squealed trying to pronounce 'didst.' "That villain cousin would have killed my husband."

"Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring!" Your voice rose and fell several octaves. "Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy." Fake tears spring to your eyes, your voice cracked, and you began slowly falling against an invisible wall.

You looked down at your paper for what to say next. "My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband. All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?" You wiped your cheeks dramatically.

"Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murd'red me. I would forget it fain;" your lips quivered, and you sucked in deep, heaving breaths before speaking your line.

"But O, it presses to my memory. Like damnèd guilty deeds to sinners' minds! 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banishèd!" You shouted.

You stood back up in a startling jump, and with a proud smile, you said triumphantly, "And Scene!"

The directors and some students in the audience, especially Daniel, gave a round of applause before the director dismissed you.

You took the steps to the stage and sat next to Daniel as the director called the next student to audition.

"You were amazing! The director might as well have given you the role right then and there."

You laughed, "Hang on, charmer. There were a bunch of Juliet's who literally said that entire thing so… fluently. I stammered through the whole thing."

"But you showed more emotion than anyone else. You only had a week to prepare. The actual show will be like child's play."

"They want people who can memorize and recite. The emotion can be added later, but it's worth nothing if they forget their lines."

"There is such a thing called improvising for a reason," he reassured.

"Who in their right, bloody minds wants to improvise Shakespeare?"

He turned his head and chuckled before waving a five-pound note in front of your face. "Here, I got to go before they call me, but you earned this at least."

"Five pounds for being forced to audition for a stupid play so you can prove a point? Wow, you must really fancy me, huh, Sharman?" you said sarcastically.

"Goodbye, L/n," he whispered before sneaking out the back door of the auditorium.

"Alright, next up. Daniel Sharman!" The director shouted your friend's name a few more times before giving up.

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Headmasters Office

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A week after your audition, you were called to the headmasters' office. Thus is the cause of the curious looks from your classmates. Oohs and Aahs flooded your ears as you grabbed your bag and headed out the door to the front of the school.

When you got to the front of the building and went into the headmasters' office, you saw the Theatre director, Ms Parker, standing behind the desk. "Headmaster Leo allowed me to use his office to do this. Isn't that cool?"

Ms Parker was one of the younger teachers in school. She was twenty-four, and this was her first year teaching after receiving her bachelor's degree in education and a master's degree in music production. A fact she could astoundingly ramble about for fifteen minutes. As proven at the auditions.

"I didn't want to call you to the theatre room. That would be too predictable, correct?" You'd come to realize she was a very eccentric woman. "I have called you in here to inform you that you have been selected to perform in this year's play of Romeo and Juliet."

A wave of shock coursed through your body, and you were sure it reflected on your face. "Are you sure?"

"Darling, I'm positive!- your audition was totally spectacular! So brilliant-in fact- that I am completely sure in my choice to make you our female lead- Juliet!"

"What!" Your eyes widened into a blank stare. Your thoughts were running rampant in your mind. You thought that performing on the stage would be a breeze when you weren't the lead.

"Ms Parker, I didn't actually want the part of Juliet! It's just that my friend dared me to audition for Juliet! Is there no way I can get a smaller part? I'm no Juliet. The show would be ruined," you rambled.

The directors' facial expressions softened, "Darling, you are the only choice. None of the other people who auditioned can even compare to the amount of passion you produced in that audition. I am determined to have you as our Juliet."

You whimpered out an "Ok." Professors had a strange way of convincing you to do extra credit assignments or things that aren't necessary.

"We have a chemistry read for you and a few of our other choices for Romeo after school today. Do you need to contact a parent to let them know where you'll be?"

"Uh, yes, please."

After you made your call, you walked back to your classroom with shaky hands. The class period was almost over, but you had to tell Daniel that you had gotten a part in the show. Not just any part- THE PART!

You shuffled into the classroom reluctantly. All eyes were on you as every student had assumed you'd been in trouble. Either suspended, expelled, or told your parents were going to have a sit-down with the headmaster.

You took your seat next to Daniel before taking out a piece of paper and writing out a note, encompassing the words, "I got the part!"

You slid the sheet discreetly onto his desk. When he read it, his eyes widened, and he quietly moved his hands toward yours, beckoning for a high five.

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First Rehearsal

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After the chemistry read, the role of Romeo was given to a kid named James Mercer-Allen got the part. Though it was more because the directors were starting to become tired.

The next day was the first rehearsal. Swimming season was last semester, so there was no clash in schedules with the play.

"Alright, this rehearsal is to get acquainted with the stage, your fellow actors, and directors," she insisted. "Now, let's introduce ourselves. Can our Romeo please stand up?"

James stood up and gave a brief introduction. You were called on next. You stated your name, "I was on the swim team last semester, and I'm in my thirteenth year. I hope I can do this role justice."

More students stood up to introduce themselves. The entire process took more than thirty minutes.

The next thing to happen was that the rest of the students were called to recite lines for various roles. The only parts that had been cast preliminarily were Romeo and Juliet.

You and James had sat on the wooden stools unless there was a scene going on that needed Romeo and/or Juliet.

By the end of the first rehearsal, the majority of the speaking roles were cast. You went home exhausted but not expecting the conversation that waited for you.

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The Talk

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"We're moving?" you shouted at your parents from your seat across from them in the sitting room. "What do you mean we're moving."

"Honey, your dad got a job in the states, so we have to move," your mother argued.

"But what about school? No school will take me in the middle of the year, and it's my last year of secondary school. I don't want to spend the rest of my last year knowing nobody."

Your dad, the man of the hour, spoke up. "Dear, we're moving at the end of the year. After school ends."

"But- What about Uni?"

"You said you were taking a sabbatical year!"

"Yes, so I could intern in London!"

"Can't you intern in California?" Your mother whined.

"We're going to California? It's the furthest state?"

Your dad attempted to reassure you but failed. "Darling, it won't be that bad. Maybe you'll like it there more than you like it here!"

"I could never like anywhere more than I like it here!"

You agreed to go to your room and spent the rest of the day there. Later on, after you finished moping, you ringed up your closest friends to tell them you were moving. You did that until you were so tired you fell asleep on the phone with Sarah before you even called Daniel.

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Confrontation

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"Why am I hearing from everyone besides you that you're moving?" Daniel appeared out of thin air behind you, and the accusation was an assault on your conscience.

You could lie and tell him that you wanted to reveal that to him in person, or you could just tell him the truth- say you fell asleep. Mix-and-Match? You ended up just telling the truth. "I fell asleep when I was making some of my other calls. I was going to tell you, I swear!"

"Why didn't you call me first. I'm your best friend?"

"That's why! It was too hard. I kept putting it off and putting it off and putting it off because I didn't want to tell you, I don't want it to be true, and telling you of all people would make it feel real."

"Why can't you stay for Uni?"

"I already told my parents I was taking a gap year. I didn't apply to any colleges."

"Crap!" he sighed. "Ok, well, we're going to have to make the most of it. And! You're getting a going away party!"

"Daniel, I don't need-"

"No debate! You are getting a going away party!"

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Opening Night

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Four months later, after all the rehearsals and memorizations of lines. After much running around the entire film department, it was finally opening night, and your nerves were shot.

You were scrambling all morning to find everything you needed. All your costumes were at the school, but you still needed to bring your black leotard, skin-coloured tights, and wear your hair in an up-do style.

You decided to do your skincare routine, but your panic got the best of you, and you forgot what every single product was used for.

Daniel came over and helped you get ready but found you practically hyperventilating.

Your parents drove you both to the theatre, and when Ms Parker told you that Daniel couldn't be backstage, you promptly told her that he was your emotional support. After much arguing, she finally let him backstage.

Around an hour before showtime, the director told Daniel that he had to go wait in the audience if he already bought his ticket or that he had to go do it now.

Before he left, he gave you a pep-talk. "Hey, so one time, I was in this play, and the idea was that I was expelled, and there was a piece of paper I had to give my 'mother,' but I lost it. So we had to improvise, but I couldn't find the paper, and I felt horrible. So just know, even if you forget your lines, you must improvise, and remember, it still probably won't compare to the embarrassment I felt that day. So you can laugh at my humiliation. "

You chuckled, "I will. Ok, go before you get in trouble."

"Ok, me, our parents and all your friends will be in the front row. I've already reserved the entire row. I brought a whole bag of jackets just for that reason!"

"You can't do that," you said in between cackles.

"For you, I'll do anything," he grinned.

A few hours later and the show was almost done. "What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end," you wept.

"O, churl! Drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to die with thine restorative." You leaned over James and let your hair fall to the side of your head to cover your face. You pulled back without actually kissing James.

"Thy lips are warm."

A whispery voice came from offstage, "Which way?" The cue for you to take the poison, which was actually cranberry juice.

"Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!" You grabbed the dagger and brought it near your chest. "This is thy sheath;" you drew the fake knife back three inches from your chest and stabbed it to where the bag of more cranberry juice was and punctured the bag. 'Blood' soaked through your dress. "There rust, and let me die." You fell dramatically onto the altar and waited for the scene to end as the crowd cheered.

After the show, you dashed into the crowd where your friends and family waited for you. Ovations and Applauses were passed, lauded boxes of chocolates and gorgeous roses were given.

When you got to Daniel, he practically tackled you with a hug. "I actually thought you died for a split second. The blood looked so real."

"Daniel, most people don't bleed that fast, do they?"

"I don't know but fear kicked in, and I couldn't make sense of anything."

You grinned and almost went to your parents before Daniel grabbed your arm. "You don't have a date to the Leavers ball, do you?"

"No, I don't. Why?"

He sighed. "Well, I was thinking that you could go with me. I don't have a date either."

You squinted, thinking there was some ulterior motive behind his actions. "Ok, I'll go with you if you give me the money you owe me before then."

"It's right here," he smiled.

Your face scrunched up, but you reluctantly agreed. You only had a month of school left, and you might as well spend it having fun with your friends.

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The Leavers Ball and the Getaway Party

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You were dressed in a light blue, pleated, Mikado prom dress that cut off at mid-thigh. You had black wedges on your feet and a black pearl-beaded bracelet on your arm.

You were wearing a half-up, half-down style that framed your face and a silver necklace with a circle-shaped diamond.

You were sitting in the parlour when Daniel rang the doorbell. He was ten minutes late.

"Sorry," he said when your dad answered it. "I know I'm late. I was picking up Kat and James."

Kat and James were your and Daniel's respective friends who'd started last year after you and Daniel introduced them.

"Hi," you popped out of the shadows. "Alright, Mom, Dad, we're late, so we're just going to get goi-"

"Wait! I have to take pictures! Go get Kat and James."

"No, Mom. No pictures!"

"It's only right. I just want a few. We can take it outside."

You sighed but reluctantly caved into your mother's will.

The four of you took pictures outside of Daniel's Jeep Wrangler. You took ones with silly faces, just girls, just boys, and ones with all four of you before your parents allowed you to leave.

You were forty minutes late, and the ball was already in full swing by the time you got there.

You got on the dance floor immediately because one of your favourite songs was playing, but the DJ switched the song as soon as you found a decent spot. It was a slow song. You chuckled, and Daniel put his hands on your waist.

"Well, this is awkward."

A few minutes later, Daniel posed an interesting question.

"Did you know that I had a crush on you when you first came to school?"

"Uh, you stammered. "No, I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I did. It was short, though. Surface-level."

"Oh," you said. "Should I take offence to that?"

"What?" His eyes widened in realization with what he said. "No, that's not what I meant. You have an amazing personality. I just meant that… I just meant I like you more as a friend than to ruin that with any of those feelings."

"Oh, ok. You wouldn't have, though."

"I wouldn't?"

"No, everyone needs an ego boost every once in a while."

"Haha!"

"And besides, I've had feelings for you at one point too. But it was very cliche, so I tried to shake it as hard as I could."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "And did you?"

"Like I said, as hard as I could. If it's still there somewhere, it's buried very deep, so much so that I was embarrassed."

"Embarrassed to like me?"

"I mean embarrassed to try and make my life seem like some movie."

"Oh, well, if you did, it would've just made you that much better as an actress. Speaking of that, would you consider acting in the least?"

"Maybe, now that I'm leaving, it's basically the last thing I have to connect me to you."

"No," he said, pointing to your bracelet. "You have that."

You had forgotten that it was Daniel who gave it to you, but the realization brought a smile to your face. "Oh yeah, I'll never take it off."

Later on, long before the ball ended, you saw many of your friends leaving.

"Hey, are you ready to go?" Daniel approached you.

"Where is everyone going?"

He wriggled his eyebrows. "Afterparty!"

"But it's not over?"

"Quit being a party popper and just come with us, L/N!"

You gave in, something you did a lot, and you all started driving. When you got there, you realized you were at Daniel's house.

"The afterparty is at your house?" you asked.

"Well…" James answered.

Kat joined in. "It's really an afterparty!"

"This is your going away party!" Daniel finished.

"But I'm not going away for another month."

"Well, now you have an entire month for people to give you gifts and stuff, and you don't have to worry about the party!" He reasoned.

"But why did it have to be after the Leavers ball?"

"Because you're already in a dress, and it has to be a surprise! Surprise!" Kat exclaimed.

"Alright, fine!"

The entire night you partied and danced, and though you didn't drink alcohol, plentiful amounts of pop and mocktails were passed around. The music was a delight to your ears with all your favourite songs. There were chips and pizza with all your favourite toppings.

"This party is awesome!"

Daniel grinned. "Well, I am an amazing party planner if I do say so myself."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Airport

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Daniel's parents drove your family to the airport. Your parents had sold the car. Your dad would return in a week to close a deal on the house. Everything was official, and now you were leaving.

You got out of the car, and the tears forcefully began to fall.

"I'm really gonna miss you, jerk," you said disdainfully to Daniel.

He chuckled. "I'm going to miss you more."

"Impossible!"

He wiped the fallen tear from your eye, and for a moment, you could see every single multi-coloured speck in his eyes and noticed how sometimes they looked blue, and at others, they looked grey or green.

You noticed the curvature of his smile and the chisel of his jawline.You saw the hurt in his eyes that said, 'why do you have to go? You're killing me,' and wanted to never move from that position.

He continued to rub the tears that fell onto your cheek, and the sad moment was as sheltered as it could be. You felt safe with him, in his arms, just looking at his face and being reminded of how he comforted you in a place that felt as familiar as Oz felt to Dorothy.

"What am I gonna do without you?" you whispered.

"Get at least one acting job, get an assistant and an agent, I'll do the same thing, and then either one of us has our assistants reach out to our agents, so we get back in touch in case we ever lose touch."

He sounded so grave that you couldn't help but laugh. "That's assuming I do become an actress, Daniel."

"You're right," he whined. "But don't forget me."

"I promise."

And you tried to keep that promise. Throughout your first year, you interned at UCLA, working in the lab. You then applied to go to school there, and you still tried to keep Daniel in your mind. Maintaining a social life on campus combined with schoolwork already wasn't easy. However, you still wouldn't let yourself forget your best friend.

It wasn't until you entered your senior year and you were about to graduate that he started to wane in your memories. The things you did together became obsolete as new friends and memories replaced the old. The things he taught you were thrown out to make space for the new lessons you learned each day.

Even when you did become an actress, you never really remembered why you decided to. You remembered that your friend pushed you to do that play, but it was almost ten years ago, and for the life of you, you couldn't remember his name.

But you did do it, first as an extra, then a body double, and then you started getting l roles on smaller shows. But your big break was getting a quasi-lead role on the spin-off of a big television show, The Walking Dead. For two years, you enjoyed going to conventions and playing the complex character, Valeria Bishop, and you thought you had it all figured out.

But life has a funny way of coming full circle and throwing you a curveball that knows you off course and changes your life.

[justasparkwritings]

Exile: Five Whole Minutes

Previous: Breaking Branches

Pairing: Timotheé Chalamet x Reader

Genre: Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Timothée’s crossed the line... now what?

Exile Master List

         She left a kiss on his cheek as she ran down the stairs and out to the garage. She knew he’d remember her 10:30 workout, a Saturday staple, but she texted to remind him that today she had brunch with a few friends. She delicately wrote a note, which she set next to a freshly filled glass with water before setting it on the bathroom counter, ibuprofen next to it. She knew he would be dehydrated when he awoke, not only from their intimacy the previous night, but from the copious amounts of alcohol they drank.

         Timothée had begun shipping a few boxes home from vineyards and distilleries that he’d enjoyed while filming, often holes in the wall that had no Yelp review, often small family owned places. He’d send a case to his parents, one to his agent and manager, and one home. She loved that he brought home specialty liquor, particularly because it made their bar a little gauche and allowed her to feign any understanding of the complexities of alcohol. She preferred prosecco, preferably under $15 and easily accessible in her local grocery stores liquor aisle.

        Timothée was a connoisseur, a wannabe sommelier. He had an impeccable palate, which always terrified her when out at restaurants or catching a drink on a Thursday, unsure what to order. She often deferred to him, leaning on his expertise. At first, he thought it was charming, he liked that she wanted him to pick it out. In reality, she was avoiding looking like an idiot in front of a man she liked so much so quickly. Eventually she shared her insecurity, and the next time they were out, he asked if she wanted him to order for her, and since then, he had taught her a lot about alcohol, about making drinks, about which wines paired with what. In her heart, she didn’t care, but she felt more confident every time they went out.

           They loved sharing nights over a new acquisition. But it could also be their downfall. Last night they had tasted three different bottles of vodka, sipping slowly on their drinks while they caught up and made out.

           Timothée had returned on Tuesday from filming. Much like his other projects, he was completely burned out. Yes, set tended to have a lot of downtime, but Timothée was a pro, and he knew that the last two weeks were often the most grueling. Filming all hours, getting shots and different takes and angles on every scene. His body was physically worn down, and his mind had tried to separate himself from the incident two months prior. The minute he got to their house, she was waiting with a scalding bath, the perfect balance of Epsom salts and lavender. She knew him so well and slowly undressed him and herself, languidly moving into their tub. The music was low, the lights were dimmed, and they sat together, skin pruning, reacquainting themselves with the intimacy they had missed.

           She’d made dinner and they ate in comfortable silence. Then, she gave him a melatonin gummy and he passed out at 8PM.

           There was nothing like falling asleep in your own bed, in your own house, with the person you love, after being away for three months. His accommodations abroad were always nice, often over the top for him. He took it upon himself to become friends with the staff, to say hello to every member he saw, and he took his politeness very seriously, particularly in a country where he didn’t speak the language. But his own sheets… waking up to her … his own bathroom with the perfect water pressure … and a closet where his clothes were put away correctly, where laundry was done when he wanted it to be when, where he could cook any time of day. Their house was home, whether it was this estate or the flat in New York.

           He fell asleep quickly and awoke early afternoon to find her gone to work, but his favorite pastries from their local bakery waiting for him. Upon her return she found him doing laundry and making space for his new purchases. He left a surprise for her on the top of the counter in their closet, knowing she’d find it when she came up to change.

           “Babe, what’s this?” She asked, carrying the bag into the laundry room.

           “It’s a gift,” He said, folding the stack of t-shirts.

           “You didn’t have to,”

           “I wanted to,”

           “Tim, this isn’t because you feel-

           “No, it’s because I saw it and I thought you would like it. I like to buy you things while I’m gone,” He said shrugging.

           “I really like it,” She said, holding the bag tight to her chest.

           “I’m glad,” He stopped folding to take her in. She was still in her professional attire, hair pulled back and dangling earrings still in. “You look beautiful.”

           “Thank you, I had an important meeting this afternoon,” She looked up from the bag and caught him staring.

           “That’s a good color on you,” He said, moving towards her to rest his hands on her hips. She’d missed his touch and shivered at the contact.

           “Thank you,” She whispered, eyes darting from his lips to his eyes. He mimicked the movement and leaned in to kiss her. She turned her head. “I need to change.”

           She turned on her heels and walked back to their closet, silently screaming.

           Timothée didn’t protest or pry, he knew why she’d pulled away. Perhaps after dinner they would talk, air things out. She was often hesitant to be intimate when he returned, unsure who he’d been with… the fact that she knew, the fact that she’d spent Friendsgiving at her house and had invited her to movie nights made it worse. Maybe she needed more time.

           Which is how they ended up drunk and having sex in various places in their home all Friday afternoon, evening and night. There was something in the liquor that loosened her up, and something in how he looked and spoke to her that reminded her how much he loves her. It was also because of the alcohol that they had officially ended their open relationship, deciding monogamy was what they both wanted. The incident with Florence had caused them to reevaluate their relationship. Wasn’t that the point of a relationship? To grow and challenge one another, and at the end of the day, make decisions together? It was on that note that they had made love most of Friday, and why he was sleeping until eleven on Saturday.

           Timothée was awoken by his phone ringing and loudly vibrating off the nightstand. Jolted from his dreamless slumber, he quickly reached for it and furrowed his eyebrows at the caller ID.      

“Hello?” He growled softly as he cleared his throat.

           “Hey Timmy, can we meet for coffee? I have something I need to talk to you about,” Florence said.

           “Oh, yeah. Sure. When?”

           “Can you do 30 minutes?”

           “Uh, yeah, yeah, where?”

           “Do you want to just come here?” She asked.

           “Sure, see you in 30 minutes,” He hung up the phone before jumping out of bed. He made the bed quickly, and thankfully tossed back the water and ibuprofen left for him. He scanned the note while he brushed his teeth. He slipped a baseball cap over his curls and slid into his favorite trainers. He hopped into his car, grateful that she was kind enough to put gas in it and drove off.

           It was three hours later when he heard the garage door open. He tried to wipe the snot from his face. He wondered if he washed his face quickly, would it make a difference?

           She came in through the garage, singing. As the door shut behind her, she was stopped by how quiet it was. Their home was never quiet, particularly in LA, where they often played music or podcasts throughout the house. As she paused, she listened, where was he?

           “Tim? Timothée?” She called moving through the kitchen. “Babe, where are you?” It was then that she heard a sniffle from the living room. She turned down the hallway and beelined for the space.

She stopped dead in her tracks as she took in the sight in front of her. His eyes were swollen and puffed. A pile of tissues sat on the coffee table, the box flipped on its side, no tissues left. His hat was long forgotten, the pile of tissues starting to form a dome on top of it. His curls were blown from his hands running through and tugging them. He glances at her through swollen eye lids.

           “Babe what’s wrong?” She asked, rushing to his side. He engulfed her into his arms, tears falling onto the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder.

           “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” He sobbed.

           “Tim, what’s going on?” She questioned, still holding him.

           “I’m so sorry,” He cried.

           “Tim, you’re starting to scare me. What’s wrong?”

           “Florence called, she wanted to have coffee,”

           Her mind began racing. She called today, she knew of their arrangement, had she decided she wanted more from Timothée? Had he slept with her, a day after they had decided to be monogamous? Had she called to say she gave him HIV or Chlamydia? Was she dying?

           “Okay, and?” She whispered, bracing for the hit.

           “She’s, she’s pregnant, and it’s mine, and she’s keeping it,” He tried to breathe, to inhale the air she’s exhaling, but she was rigid.

           “What?” She asked. She could feel her entire body going cold, her eyes filling with tears.

           “Florence… She wanted to get coffee and she told me,” He said. He sounded like a teenager who had had sex for the first time and gotten his girlfriend pregnant at Christian Summer Camp. Like his entire life was over, like his future was ruined. His voice was already pleading, though he didn’t know for what.

           “She’s pregnant?” She whispered.

           “Yes,” He said.

           “And it’s?” She asked.

           “Mine.” His voice cracked. “She wanted me to know and said we could talk about how involved I wanted to be. I have to think about it! I, I’m going to be a -

           “Okay,” She said, arms dropping to her sides. Her tone was hollow. “I’m um, congrats. I’m going to ...”

           She stalled, brain trying to work in overdrive to compensate for the sludge it was peddling through. She decided on her next action before running up the stairs. At first, he thought she was slamming the door to tell him to stay away. But then she came down the stairs, large suitcase packed. She didn’t stop to talk. She didn’t stop to listen to him. She didn’t stop to console him or offer him support. She didn’t stop as he called her name, as he followed her to the garage. She didn’t stop as she watched him fall to the floor in the space her car once was. She didn’t stop as she drove away from the house and the life they shared. He didn’t stop calling after her, even after his knees hit the concrete, the snot and tears mixing on his tongue as he tried to will her back.

Next: My Town

[hopelikethemoon]

Birthday Interruptions (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [smut]

Title: Birthday Interruptions  Rating: Explicit  Length: 1700 Warnings: Smut (slightly rough with sub/dom undertones I guess) Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set August 27th 1995.  Summary: It’s Reader’s birthday.

@grapemama​@seawhisperer​@huliabitch​@beccaplaying​@rogrsnbarnes​@thewallpapergoesorido​​ @twomoonstwosuns​@gooddaykate​@livasaurasrex​@ham4arrow​@plexflexico​​ @readsalot73​ @hdlynn​@lokiaddicted​ @randomness501​​ @fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut​@snivellusim​@lukesrighthand​ @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​​@synystersilenceinblacknwhite​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​@awesomefandomsunited​​ @ah-callie​​@swhiskeys​​@lady-tano​​ @u-wakatoshii​ @space-floozy​​@cable-kenobi​​ @cool-ultra-nerd​ @himbopoes​​@findhimfives​​@pedrosdoll​​@frietiemeloen​​@arrowswithwifi​​ @random066​ @uncomicalhumour​​@heather-lynn​​@domino-oh-damn@cyarikaaa​​@ahopelessromanticwritersworld​​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​​@yabby-girl​​@xqueenofthecraziesx​​@punkass-potato​​@coredrive​​@pascalesque​​@theduchessofkirkcaldy​​ @queenquazar​​@sabinemorans​​@buckstaposition​​@holkaskrosnou​​@yespolkadotkitty​@fleetwoodmactshirt​​ @seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie​​@jaime1110​​@katlikeme​​

“Happy birthday,” Javier whispered as he snaked his arm around your waist, curling against you. You sank back against him, your eyes still closed. 

It was hot as hell in Florida — but you still chased the warmth that came from him beneath the covers. “Is that what today is?” You questioned teasingly, taking ahold of his hand and interlacing your fingers with his. “You better not have gotten me anything.” 

He chuckled and pressed his lips against the crook of your neck, “Just the movies you asked for.” 

“I can’t wait to make you watch Robin Hood six hundred times today.” You laughed as you reached behind you and played with his hair. “Kevin Costner at his finest.”

Javier huffed softly, “Maybe the movie was the wrong choice.”

“Considering you convinced me to give you something to buy me…” You ran your fingers down the back of his neck. “You did it to yourself, babe.”

He pressed a line of kisses along your shoulder, “Every year I tell you not to get me something and you always do.”

“And?” You tugged at his hair, before rolling onto your back so you could look at him. “I skipped your first birthday because it was like two weeks after we started this,” You gestured between the two of you. “The following year was a mess… And last year I bought that nice watch you mooned over with Steve.”

Javier dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, “Touché.” 

You reached up and traced your finger down his nose, “So it was one year you told me not to get you anything.” 

“I get it,” Javier laughed as he cupped your cheek and leaned down to kiss you, “I promise I didn’t get you anything but what you asked for.” 

“Good.” You smiled up at him, before glancing at the bedside clock. It was just after six — Josie usually woke up closer to seven these days. “I have another gift request.”

“Hmm?” Javier arched a brow, “I can try to run out and get it—“

God, he could be so clueless sometimes. You curled your fingers around the back of his head and pulled him down for another kiss to shut him up. 

He grabbed at your thigh as you turned towards him, drawing your leg over his hip. Javier groaned against your lips, his tongue darting out to find yours as your lips parted.

You trailed your hand up and down his bare chest and shoulders, trying to touch him everywhere that you could. 

Javier caught the hem of your tank and drew it up your torso — breaking from the kiss long enough to toss it aside. “Can I?” He questioned, skimming his fingers over the curve of your breast. 

You nodded, letting yourself sink back against the mattress as he moved over your, dipping down to catch your nipple between his lips. He lapped at the pebbled peak, before dragging his teeth over the soft flesh of your breast — sending little sparks of need through your veins. 

“Javier.” You breathed out as you wound your fingers through his hair. You could feel his cock against your upper thigh, stiffening within his boxers. You shifted beneath him, parting your thighs so he was slotted between them. 

His teeth scraped over your nipple and you jerked, grinding yourself against him, even with the fabric separating you. The friction was enough to make you moan, fingers tightening in his hair. 

As much as you wanted to take it slow and savor a little birthday sex, you knew it was a race against the clock and a crying toddler. The only blessing was that it was Sunday. If she interrupted you now, you’d only have to wait until her nap and not until after work. 

Javier sat back on his knees, looking down at you. “If I had known this was all you wanted, I wouldn’t have bought Robin Hood.” He taunted and you responded. 

You sat upright until you were almost eye level with him, “A girl can want two things.” You tossed back as you reached down and cupped him through his boxers. “But right now, this is what I want, Javi.”

Your eyes lowered to his cock as you pulled down his boxers and freed it. “Fuck.” You breathed out as you curled your fingers around it and stroked it slowly, meeting his eyes. There was so much power that came from having your hand wrapped around his cock — it was a heady sensation. 

Javier surged forward and crashed his lips against yours as he wrestled with your shorts and underwear. It took a moment of untangling yourselves to rid yourself of the last barriers of cloth, before he shoved you back against the pillow. 

He knew exactly what you wanted.

You inhaled sharply as he curled his fingers loosely around your throat, pinning your back against the bed as his hand slid between your thighs. 

“Goddammit, baby.” Javier rasped out as he worked his fingers between your slick folds. “You’re fucking drenched. Is that all from me?”

You nodded as best you could with the hand curled around your throat, but that only added to the experience. As much as you loved being in control and calling the shots — Javier could easily reduce you to a writhing mess with that little dominant streak. 

Javier replaced his wandering fingers with his cock, dragging the head of his cock over your sensitive cunt, lingering right at your aching center. 

“Is this what you want, baby?” Javier questioned as just the head of his cock sank into you, making you whimper for him. “You’ve got to tell me. I need to know this is what you want.”

“Please.” You gasped out, holding his gaze as you conveyed just how badly you wanted it. 

Javier released his hold on your throat and clasped his hand over your mouth as he sank the full length of his cock into you. You arched up off the bed, rolling your hips down towards him. 

You grabbed at his shoulders for support as he started to move; driving into you again and again, barely giving you a chance to miss him before he was slamming into you again. 

He pried one of your hands off his shoulder, interlacing your fingers with his as he pressed it back against the mattress. Javier held your gaze as a slew of filthy whispers and praises left his mouth — making the heat in your lower belly burn hotter.

You curled a leg around his hips, moving with him as he filled you again and again. You were so close — chasing that delicious release that was dangling just out of reach. 

His fingers tightened around your hand, his other hand gripping at your hip to hold you steady. You were right there, right on the edge. Your lips parted as you felt it start to build. 

Your inner walls fluttered around his cock, seconds away from sending you crashing into oblivion and—

Javier’s pace faltered as the baby monitor on your dresser whirred to life with the sound of Josie starting to fuss. 

“Fuck.” You slammed your fist against the mattress frustratedly as you tried to wiggle your other hand out of his hold. “I’ll go get her.”

“Baby,” Javier didn’t let go of your hand. “You’re going to come.” His tongue darted out over his lips. “If that’s what you want.” 

You blinked up at him, drawing in a ragged breath as you nodded. “I was so close.” You complained as you shifted on his cock. 

He ran his hand over your lower belly, dipping down to where your bodies were joined. “I’ve got you, baby.” Javier murmured as he rocked his hips slowly, shallowly thrusting into you. His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing quick circles over the throbbing bundle of nerves. 

You tried your best to tune out Josie — just for this moment. Just so you wouldn’t spend all morning aching with this unspent desire. 

“Come on, baby. I wanna feel you come for me.” Javier urged you on, “Wanna feel your pussy come on my cock.” He shifted the angle of his thrusts, causing his cock to drag against that sweet spot. 

“Fuck!” You gasped as you cupped your breasts, trying to chase that release with everything you could. 

“Look at me.” Javier said roughly, causing your eyes to snap to his. “Come.”

There was something to his tone that set you off. Maybe it was the fullness of his cock, that desperate stroking of his thumb, but you were certain it was the command in his voice that sent you careening over the edge. 

Javier was close behind you as clenched and trembled on his cock. Once, twice, three mores and you felt him spill within you. 

There was no after, no basking in the glowing moments that followed. “I’ve got her,” Javier said as he abandoned you to retrieve his long forgotten boxers off the floor, before slipping out the door to tend to Josie. 

You were left to lay in the center of the bed, your body still trembling as you tried to catch you breath. Even with the abrupt end, you were still floating above it all. 

“Princesa,” Javier tsked as you listened for the baby monitor. “You’ve got impeccable timing.”

That was the understatement of the year. 

You really should’ve gotten up, but all you really wanted to do was lay there and savor the last little ebb and flow of pleasure in your veins as Javier’s come leaked out of you. 

“Daddy was trying to help mommy celebrate her birthday.” Javier continued, humming to her as he tried to soothe her. 

You smirked to yourself as you listened. That right there was a gift and he didn’t even know it. He was so good with his daughter — doting and loving. 

He didn’t do anything half-hearted, even if there were still days you feared all of this going away. You weren’t sure you wanted a world where you didn’t have this. 

Them. 

You rolled over and stretched out your legs. 

Five more minutes of sleep and then you’d shower and start the day. 

You grabbed ahold of his pillow and buried your face in it as you let yourself succumb to that post-orgasm exhaustion, coupled with exhaustion of parenthood. 

With any luck, he could lure Josie back to sleep the same way that his humming had gotten you. 

[psychopersonified]

KIdnapped!Q - Part 2

Continued from Part 1 here.

---------

“The boyfriend don’t feed you??” she shakes her head and sends a glare at Bond’s direction indicating what she thinks about his efforts.

Q nearly spit takes his tea. He forces it down, choking in the process.

Bond clears his throat. “I think… you’ll find the boyfriend tries his best,” he grinds out, still looking straight ahead, his tone betraying more than a little indignation.

-----------

Notes: The event told roughly from Bond's POV especially the first half. Plus the aftermath. This is me trying to get into Bond's head. Also, let's all get on Bond's case shall we? 

Towards the end, there is exposition of technical plot. I've tried to interject it with humour and also to use this opportunity for character development.

Some parts borrowed heavily from Spectre (movie) but does not take place in that universe.

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

Level 5 Lobbby, SIS (MI6) HQ

Kneeling beside Q in the Level 5 lobby of MI6 HQ, Bond vacillates between being livid at himself and overwrought with worry for Q. The young man is crumpled unconscious on the marble floor. He had seen it coming. Q was already too pale in the car, lips almost colourless. He had to call Q’s name twice before he responded to exit the vehicle.

He should have dealt with it in the parking garage, instead of turning Q into a spectacle here in the lobby. He recognised the symptoms of hyperventilation when he saw it. Bond was hoping to get Q to medical before helping him recover.

He checks Q’s pulse, rapid but weak. He’s breath is still shallow. If medical doesn’t get there in the next minute, he’s going to pick Q up and carry him there. A crowd is forming around them. Level 5 lobby is the main exchange lobby inside HQ - where the ‘public’ meets the ‘secret’. The floors above level 5 house the Executive and Operational branches. Level 5 and below that are the public facing areas - accounts, administrative, HR, logistics, cafeteria, etc. To get to the upper levels, they have to change to the restricted lift banks further to the rear of the building.

And now, it’s right in the middle of the workday morning. Curious staff from both upstairs and downstairs are standing around staring. Bond wants badly to tell them to -piss off-, but it would just make rumours spread faster.

Dr. Chen arrives just then with two of her aides, a crash cart and a gurney. Together they put Q onto the gurney, checking his vitals on the way to Medical.

“BP  87/60. Pulse 110. Oxygen saturation 92%. Glucose levels 61mg/dL,“ One of the medical aides report.

“He’s borderline hypoxic and in hypoglycaemic shock. Prepare glucagon shot, and glucose IV drip.” Dr Chen orders as they fit Q with an oxygen mask.

Knowing Q, he likely hadn’t taken breakfast yet that morning either. He was still asleep when Bond left for HQ. Add that to the fact that Q barely had dinner the night before; appetite suppressed by the cold he was having - he was running very low on reserves.

—

The treatment room doors close in his face. One of the senior nurses had brandished a folded stethoscope in his face like a weapon and told him to stay. That was Maria, a straight talking matronly nurse of Pilipino descent, the only nurse in medical that isn’t afraid of his 00-status despite being nearly a foot shorter than him. So he’s now left pacing the corridor outside.

—

Earlier that day

When his phone buzzed that morning with a security alert ::Lobby Alert:: , 007 was in a meeting in the operations centre with M, Tanner and 004 running through plans for the next mission in Libya. A local warlord was buying guns presumably to fight ISIS insurgents but intel has it that he’s gone from fighting them to suppling them - profits were better.

007 had excused himself to a corner to check the app that would give him access to the security cameras in Q’s building. The sight of the three men at the door with the battering ram had him on his feet in an instant - heart in his throat. The distress signal came through seconds later.

He was out of the conference room door in seconds and into the main operations area where the wall of monitors stood. R was there and had apparently received the same alert - the warning flashing red and urgent across one of the monitors.

“007, Sir!” R called out to him from across the room, “Q’s distress signal was just activated.” R looked to Bond like he might have an explanation.

M and the others in the conference room had followed him out when they noticed him leave abruptly.

“I just received the same alert. Security cameras show three men attempting to gain access.” Bond held up his phone to indicate how he knew.

Panic flickered across R’s face for a moment; but her training kicked in and she started calling out orders to the minions around her, “Executive Protocol Q! Attempted forced entry at Quartermaster’s residence in progress. I want CCTV feeds around his residence. Get the police on the line, how fast can they get a patrol unit there-...”

What happened next was a flurry of activity. Bond’s only deference to protocol was to turn to M and nod his leave before sprinting out. Tanner caught up with him at the lifts, a tablet in hand. He swiped his Chief of Staff card and tapped a short code that would give him (or more accurately M) preferential lift access in emergencies.

“M says to take his car. R can patch through the feeds and update us on the way.” Bond would normally object to having someone tag along with him, but in this instance a government vehicle with its blues-and-twos flashing would get them through traffic quicker.

By the time they got to the parking garage, they were joined by another team of agents. Tanner had the keys to M’s Jaguar and took position as driver, he signalled to one of the other agents jump into the front passenger seat - leaving 007 to stew in the back. The remaining agents followed in a separate vehicle.

-

“Tanner... a little more speed would be appreciated.”

“007, why don’t you pay attention to the tablet and help R out?” Tanner suggested politely.

-

007 flung the door open before the car even made a full stop. He engaged the second assailant just as Q made it across the Jag’s bonnet to the other side. Bond would later dispute the police report that indicated excessive force was used to subdue the assailant. A broken nose, partially crushed windpipe and dislocated knee was hardly excessive in his line of work.

—---

Present

Dr Chen emerges from the treatment room 15 minutes later.

“He’s fine. He’s fine.” Chen holds up her hands to placate Bond before he can do his double-0 looming. “Oxygen levels are back to normal and blood glucose readings are back up. He just needs rest and some food in him.”

Q comes fully around in half an hour. The glucose and oxygen supplement doing wonders. He’s sitting up on the recovery bed having tea and biscuits that Bond managed to retrieve from Q’s stash in Q-Branch.

Mallory and Eve are present as well, intercepting Q before Bond has had a chance to see him privately. Pleasantries done, M leaves the room and gestures for 007 to follow him out, leaving Eve to continue her conversation with Q.

—

Outside Recovery Room A

“007, It’s been a trying day. How are you?” M opens.

Bond makes a non-committal sound, “Sir. I know you didn’t want to see me to discuss my mental health.”

M sighs. Why must everything be so difficult with this one.

“Fine. I want to discuss Q’s protection detail for the next few weeks until we get this threat sorted. You are off the Tripoli mission next week, 004 will be taking lead,” M offers.

Bond would normally protest, but this time he makes no move. Internally he is relieved. This saves him from having to come up with an excuse for why he won’t be going.

“We’re going to have to move Q to a secure location. MI5 has safe houses and resources we can tap into— “ Mallory sees the snarl forming on 007’s lips and quickly adds, ”—but I have a feeling you are going to want to have a say in it.”

Bond backs down and considers a moment. “I still have my place. The floorplan is easy to secure. A few upgrades and it should be adequate.”

“And the rest of the detail?”

“I’ll… need two more officers. Better yet, field agents in line for the 00-program. Consider this their asset protection training.”

M nods in approval. But something is left unsaid. M decides that it is time to get it out of the agent.

“How long has it been going on?” Bond knows M is not talking about the protection detail anymore.

“Just over a year.” He says matter of fact looking at a point past M’s shoulder. Bond isn’t volunteering more information than that. M doesn’t look surprised. If anything, he looks thoughtful.

Both men are clearly uncomfortable with the personal segue of the conversation. A pause and they both look away and clear their throats at the same time.

M ends the discussion on something they are more accustomed to, “Well, I trust you have this area under control. Tomorrow morning, we’ll reconvene to discuss any information R and Forensics can recover.”

Bond nods. “Very well, sir.” The fact the M hasn’t removed him from the case is consent enough.

——

Inside Recovery Room A

“How are you?” Eve rubs his blanket covered shin.

“Aside from it being one of the worst days of my life? Alright all things considered.“

Eve reaches over to give him a tight hug, more for her own sake than Q’s, “You had everyone so worried!… Thank goodness for the pen.”

“Yes well… Bond’s penchant for pilfering Q-branch equipment finally came in handy.”

Eve ruffles his hair and presses a kiss to his cheek, “You did really well today. I’m so proud of you.”

Q shrugs, what can he say? He doesn’t feel particularly proud. More numb if anything now that’s it’s over. Eve seems to sense this and goes for humour instead, ”Did Tanner tell you? He put 007 in the backseat of the Jag on the way to you.”

“I did wonder about that…” He could imagine Bond’s ire at having to relinquish control and wait patiently. Eve and Q share a conspiratorial smile.

“The rumour mill is spinning in overdrive; thought you might to know. It was quite the spectacle this morning in the lobby.”

Q pinches the bridge of his nose; mortified. “Not my finest moment I’ll admit. I’ve single handedly destroyed what little street cred Q-Branch had left.”

“Oh Q... that’s not what people are talking about—,” at his blank look, she unlocks the phone in her hand and pulls up the internal messaging app. She scrolls to a video and selects it before showing it to him.

It was of Q crumpled dramatically on his side just in front of the lift banks. 007 is crouched over him, one of his hands cradling Q’s head. Tanner is standing nearby, phone to his ear. The video captures 007’s other hand coming up to touch the pulse point at Q’s neck. A few moments later the agent looks up, taking in the crowd, his eyes a blazing blue, expression tinged with fear. Dr. Chen arrives soon after, cutting off the view from that angle.

Oh… OH…- In his mind, Q had expected the incident to be far more comical. A tech boffin kissing the floor from panic induced hypoxia has the potential to be the stuff of comic legend; if schadenfreude was your cup of tea. But the video was far from amusing. Poignant would be a more accurate description. Bond will be a handful to deal with later.

At the sobering thought, Q changes the subject, “Did I make the tele?”

Eve grins and nods,”All morning… breaking news and all. It’s being spun as a possible terror attack, as shots were fired and we need to maintain your cover. Mallory negotiated a quid pro quo with MI5. They are getting credit for the quick response in apprehending the suspects in exchange for publicly copping to counter-terrorism failure.”

“There were quite a lot of shots exchanged. Was anyone hurt?” Q recalled the street was rather busy.  

“Aside from the assailants, none seriously. Some civilian injuries, but all stable.” That assuages his guilt somewhat.

“Has anyone been to the flat?”

“Forensics is taking a look now.”

“Derek, the officer in the lobby? Is he—“

“He’s just out of surgery. Critical but stable.” This is why Q loves Eve, she knows everything.

“Don’t suppose anyone knows what happened to the cats?” Q is a little sheepish to be asking about his pets when human lives were threatened this morning.

“The cats are fine. Emily from forensics found them huddled in the laundry room. She’ll bring them back here at the end of her shift,” Eve reassures him, “But at the moment, your lion is loose and prowling the halls.”

Ah right, “Eve… does everyone know?”

Eve smiles at him, “Q... everyone’s known for months. Including Mallory.”

Just then the door opens and Bond reenters. Eve takes her leave. She pats Bond on his bicep on the way out and he acknowledges with a nod. When she’s cleared the doorway, he closes the door and locks it behind her. Finally. Some privacy.

Bond is silent intent when he comes to sit on the recovery bed facing Q. He removes the mug of tea from Q’s hands and sets it safely aside - gently demanding.

He leans in to wrap his arms tightly around Q, crushing Q against his chest. He runs his calloused hands over Q’s back, neck and into his hair - then buries his nose in that unruly mop of hair, breathing in deeply. When he’s a little calmer, a little more composed - he relaxes his hold to nuzzle Q around the temple before going in for a kiss, hands still stroking the sides of Q’s face and neck.

Q’s glasses are askew from all the petting. “Alright… I’m alright…. ,“ He soothes the agent, and has to take hold of Bond’s hands to quiet him. He knows Bond in this unsettled mood - a predator caught off guard, challenged… insecure. Bond would very well take things too far to reassure himself if Q lets him. And this isn’t an appropriate time or place.

“Are you still going to Tripoli on Monday?” Q tries to distract the clingy agent.

“No. M stood me down… I’ve been reassigned as your PPO,” Bond rumbles softly into his hair.

“Aren’t you a little overqualified to play bodyguard?” Q needles him.  

“Hmm… you deserve the best,” he mumbles into the corner of Q’s mouth.

Q snorts at the backhanded compliment Bond’s paid himself.

Bond whispers, “I’ve been told I’m rather good at what I do.”

Bravado. Let him have it- Q thinks, “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re precious,” Bond had not intended that to be out loud, and is a little embarrassed even before Q calls him out on it.

“Gah! You’re incredibly mushy today,” Q pushes him away lightly, mock cringing.

Bond leans back, but his hands have escaped and have wandered around Q’s waist, thumbs caressing the ticklish flesh, “Considering the events of today, I think I’m entitled.” Bond leans back in for a kiss.

Pillow talk. They’re engaging in pillow talk in the middle of the day in Medical. -Surreal- Q thinks.

The door handle rattles. Bond squeezes his eyes shut and exhales in exasperation -Seriously, can everyone just piss off!

Undeterred by the universal sign for a request to privacy, the person the other side raps on the door.

Bond goes to unlock it. Q picks up his tea to hide his mirth.

The door opens to reveal Nurse Maria sporting a -very- disapproving scowl. She’s back to check in on Q’s condition. She keeps her eyes on Bond as she enters, keeping him at bay with her stare alone. Bond moves away to a decent distance and stands at parade rest, eyes straight ahead; the very picture of obedience.

She turns to Q and fusses over his vitals and starts removing the IV drip.

“Rest. No more dangerous stunts. Eat more... Too skinny. Tsk!” she makes a sound of disapproval.

“The boyfriend don’t feed you??” she shakes her head and sends a glare at Bond’s direction indicating what she thinks about his efforts.

Q nearly spit takes his tea. He forces it down, choking in the process.

Bond clears his throat. “I think… you’ll find the boyfriend tries his best,” he grinds out, still looking straight ahead, his tone betraying more than a little indignation.

“Hmph…” Maria huffs unimpressed, as she fluffs Q’s pillow.

Mercilessly she adds, “Maybe the boyfriend is too busy. Always travelling. You should tell him to slow down. Spend more time at home.”

All this she directs at Q but there is no mistaking who the words are actually for.

“I’ll umm… I’ll make sure to let him know.” Q tries to defuse the situation. If it comes down to an actual contest of words between those two, Q’s not sure Bond would win.

——

Quartermaster’s Residence

Late that afternoon, once forensics is done collecting evidence, Bond is back home - well technically Q’s place. He speaks to Emily, Head Forensics Tech onsite for an update.

“Place is untouched, only damage appears to be the door. Nothing appears to be out of place, but you’d be able to tell better than us. It doesn’t look like the assailants bothered to search for anything. Which confirms the suspicion that they were not after anything, but Q himself.”She informs him - which to Bond is the worst case scenario. Q has something they want, and if the failed attempt today does not dissuade them, then they will try again.

“We’ll have some technicians back onsite to secure the door at least temporarily and do a more thorough sweep… Right then, cats are in their carriers in the laundry room. Do you still want us to take them to HQ?”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll take it from here. Thank you Emily.” Emily pats him on the shoulder much like Eve did before leaving.

Bond has two other agents with him:

Agent Monica Chalmers, former Squadron leader in the Royal Air Force, calm, tough as nails with surprisingly good hand to hand combat skills for a pilot.

Agent Peter Coyle former Major in the Royal Marines, good all rounder but with a dormant sense of rebelliousness that Bond see lying just beneath the highly disciplined exterior.

Both are experienced field agents and nine months into the Double-0 program and top of their batch. He’d consulted 009 earlier for his recommendation and Bond remembered them from the selection weekend ten months ago when he assisted 009 in the testing process.*

Bond gets them to help pack a few bags for Q as well as collect any projects and papers he was working on - directing them where things are and pointing out the items he wants packed.

When they’re done and about to leave, Bond emerges form the laundry room with his own bag and a cat carrier, “I hope the both of you like cats.”

Chalmers is quick to indicate affirmative. Coyle hesitates a split second too long; 007 smells blood and smiles sharkily. “Well you do now,” and promptly hands over the carrier case to him.

-—-

Notting Hill, Chelsea

Then they swing by MI6 to pick up Q before heading to Bond’s place in Chelsea.

They have a polite dinner, all four of them standing around the kitchen bar, because Bond’s bachelor pad lacks any real furniture. Bond refuses to be embarrassed. The place smells musty from disuse, and the overhead lighting is harsh and unflattering. It’s in a very nice part of town, but the place is frankly depressing. Q’s only been here a handful of times. Barely furnished and incomplete, it represents Bond’s past - he still comes by time to time especially after missions where he’s had to do some morally questionable things. He comes here to shed the proverbial filth so to speak; before returning to his present, his life with Q. Psychological compartmentalisation in physical form.

Q had let the cats out to explore. Jellicles the younger tuxedo cat is curious, zooming about the place and chattering to himself. Q thinks his boldness is due to the place not smelling entirely alien. Bond had to pull the cat off the hanging kitchen lights at one point.

But Spot (after Data’s cat) the older orange moggie is having none of it. The big former street cat is attempting to climb Q’s jeans, wanting to be held and cuddled. Q finally gives up and picks up the cat and hitches it to his side like child - the large moggie is as heavy as one too. With the cat mollified, Q can finish his dinner.

After dinner, Q transfers the cat to Bond’s arms before excusing himself to shower and get ready for the night. Bond is in his usual white shirt open at the collar, gun holster still around his shoulders. The orange cat fidgets in his arms, head-butting him under the jaw. Jellicles who was lounging on the kitchen bar now feels left out and is reared up on his hind legs, front paws on Bond’s other shoulder, meowing incessantly. “Yess, alright…,” he sets down his fork in mild annoyance to pet the cat along his long sinuous spine and get him to sit back down.

Agents Chalmers and Coyle exchange a look. Here is the idolised spy, the revered Double-0 agent, the man himself in his private setting and nothing lives up to expectation. The cognitive dissonance throws them.

Bond ever the observant one catches their open stares, understanding immediately. His voice is low, tired even, heavy with the the years of service and untold horrors he’d witnessed and done, “They lie in the brochures. I hope neither of you are doing it for the lifestyle.” And that concludes Bond’s pearl of wisdom for the day.

When they’re done clearing up, Bond gives them their instructions.

“Familiarise yourselves with the floorplan, entry and exits. Let me know what improvements we need and an escape plan for contingencies.”

“In the evenings when I’m around, you won’t need to stay. Check in with the police guards outside and have them keep watch of the building. But I won’t be here all the time. At some point I -will- leave to go after whoever is behind this.”  

“The both you will need to take turns sleeping on the couch. Or make alternative arrangements for him if the threat becomes untenable. We’ll discuss more tomorrow.“

With that, they’re dismissed.

——

That night, when the lights are out, and they’re both scrubbed clean of the days’ stress  - Bond crawls into bed behind Q. Q can sense it in the cautiousness and light tremors in Bond’s movements, like he’s trying to keep it together.  

Once his guard drops, James is near inconsolable. Wrapped possessively around Q, hands everywhere, legs tangled - his face is buried in the back of Q’s neck. The man is silent, except for the harsh and erratic breathing - and not the good kind either. The back collar of Q’s pyjamas is wet with tears.

Q does his best to soothe, petting and rubbing the muscled arms wrapped around him. He brings the man’s hands up to his face and kisses the cuts and bruises on his knuckles. “James, I’m alright…. I’m right here…” he whispers over and over.

He doesn’t try to stop the emotional breakdown, better to let him have it. Q feels a little guilty, he’s feeling somewhat detached from the days’ traumatic events. Maybe it’s because he got to panic while it was happening and it is now out of his system.  He’s cool and calm now while James suffers the emotional fallout.

Q recalls the video that Eve presented to him earlier in the afternoon. The camera capturing with stunning clarity the raw emotion behind the agent’s blue eyes. If the agent knew about the video, he’d make the person who took it will disappear. Which reminds Q to make a mental note to nuke the video from the messaging platform in the morning.

James is past the tears now and demanding more. The soothing caresses turning to something more serious, more consuming. Q is more than happy to give. They comfort each other until they’re both exhausted enough to fall asleep.

---------

Saturday 10:00  

SIS (MI6) Ops Centre Level 9 - Operations Room C.

R is providing sitrep. Images flash across the wall of screens to the front of the room.

“…—The ambulance was stolen from the Forest Hill Station south of London. Three assailants. Two in custody--” Their mugshots appear on screen:

Assailant 1 sports a bandaid under his chin. “…— is under medical observation for possible head trauma from hitting the cobblestone street—…”

Assailant 2 is much worse off, broken nose, a large hematoma under the right eye, and ugly bruising across the throat. “…— is also under medical observation for a partially crushed windpipe and dislocated knee.”

“Hospital will not release them for questioning until Sunday or Monday at the latest. Human rights and all. Third assailant was cornered by our agents, but opened fire into the crowd. Luckily there were no serious injuries. Agents stood down to avoid risk to civilian population and the assailant escaped on a stolen motorcycle.”

“Facial recognition places them as local members of a south London crime syndicate. Armed robbery, money laundering and the likes - serious crimes but nothing on the scale that would suggest going after a head of department in SIS.”

“Hired muscle. Nothing more. So that if the attempt fails or they get caught, it can’t be traced to whoever ordered it,” M concludes.

“Yes, sir. But they would have to know where to drop the asset off if it were successful though.” Agent Chalmers chimes in.

“Note the unusual timing; in the middle of a workday morning meant that they had to know that Q would be home at the time. That he was relatively unguarded—“ that Bond wasn’t home, was left unsaid. “—which means they were watching. Or told when to initiate the attempt.” Tanner added.

Q is only half paying attention to the discussion. Mark from IT-Branch came in earlier to hand him three new boxes of electronics - bless him. A new phone, laptop and hotspot router (because Bond’s place has no telephone or internet); unboxing them was like taking a hit for an addict in withdrawal. Q is preoccupied with setting them up and re-downloading data from the secure cloud services. He feels nearly like himself again. He had spent most of yesterday without them and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“The place was untouched. The target was Q. What worries me is motive. Why would anyone take such a risk to provoke MI6 by abducting the Quartermaster knowing we would have the motivation and resources to go after them. Not unless the payoff is something that would massively change the way they forward their agenda. It has to be something they need him for. Something they can’t replicate, not even if they had the plans.” 007 concludes.

M who was rocking lightly in his chair whilst listening stops, leans forward and sighs. He looks over at Q, “What have you been working on?”

Mallory couldn’t keep track of all of it. Yes Q-Branch spent millions in R&D but they made the government (and by extension secured SIS funding) at least ten times what they spent. Declassified plans, schematics and programming codes sold at auction to private defence, Infosec and engineering companies for tens of millions.

The Q-Branch minions might be the butt of jokes at times in SIS, but their work not only kept operatives alive but helped keep the lights on in MI6. It is no wonder that MI5 wanted a slice of that pie. Sometimes M wondered why Q hasn’t left to go work in private. He’d asked him that once, and all he got in reply was something to the effect of ‘reigning in egomaniacal tendencies with public oversight and knowing which side you’re on’.

“Take your pick—” Q huffs in mild frustration, then realises who he was speaking to and adds,”—Sir.”

Q’s feeling tetchy this morning. Aside from tech withdrawal, his cold had gotten worse so his nose is completely stuffed. The general fatigue that accompanies a cold is exacerbated by his aching leg muscles from all that running the day before. Then he’d discovered he’d ripped a nail right off the finger bed in his haste to remove the hard drive so it stings when he types. He’s feeling a full on sulk coming. Bond already bore the brunt of his crabbiness this morning attempting to get him ready to come in to HQ.

“What about the project you’ve been working on with Mark? With the Shadow Network?” R said trying to be helpful.

“What about it? And please, I prefer Gemini Network - sounds less villainy.”

“I heard Mark say it could be a game changer, that it will give us the upper hand when it comes to controlling information.”

“Well in theory….” Q is being a little evasive.

Mallory looks over at Eve and tips his chin up at her. Eve knows at once to go and fetch Mark. They’ve learned over the years that when Q says something is ‘in theory’, it means he’s already gone ahead and built a proof a concept it or at the very least it tested the theory.

Mark enters the operations room like he’s been summoned to the headmasters office. “Sir? You asked to see me?”

“Tell us about the Gemini Network.” M dives right in without preamble.

“You mean the Shadow Network?” Mark looks for clarification.

“Why does everyone insist on calling it that?…” Q is slightly miffed.

Mark begins, “Well, the concept started years ago when we first used it to trap Silva in his earlier days. Quantum was trying to undermine your predecessor through Q-Branch, cascade of equipment failures leading to the death of a field agent. Basically we built a replica of Q-Branch systems and let Silva run his virus in it to learn what he was doing.”

“Since then we’ve evolved and developed the concept into a full shadow network that now protects MI6 systems. We created an AI shepherded by our cybersecurity team that patrols our systems; learning the normal functions - what’s secure, what’s not.” Mark pauses to check if everyone is still following.

“The idea is that when an anomaly in the system is detected, the AI isolates the suspicious node and shunts it into its shadow network. The shadow network presents itself as a legitimate fully functioning system and lets whatever suspicious activity continue unchallenged. But all the while it is watching and learning. It then flags the human team who can then decide if it is harmless or a legitimate threat. We can then use what it learns to patch the actual system. Think of it like an evolving immune system for cybersecurity. The more it learns the more robust it gets.”

Q then reasons, “The AI represents thousands of hours of machine training and learning, valuable in it of itself. But not impossible to recreate - though having MI6 as a training ground does make it harder for anyone to catchup to it.”

Bond notices Mark’s excited body language. The man is almost bouncing on his toes, “But… I’m guessing there is more to this…?”

Marks looks to Q and they have a non-verbal exchange. Those two are thick as thieves when it comes to programming, though Mark still refuses to transfer to Q-Branch for the sake of his sanity. Bond has met Mark numerous times, he likes the guy. Mark looks up to Q like an adoring little brother wanting someday to be just as good. Which means he’s an enabler who goes along with Q’s ideas without any sense of self preservation.

“Recently, Mark and I found a new application for it. We managed to package the AI into a worm that can be used to infiltrate a target network. It will still require us to inject it behind a firewall, either through hacking or physically. But once inside, it starts watching and learning - filtering traffic internally between nodes; as well as incoming and outgoing traffic outside of the network. It will sit dormant until activated…”

Eve’s eyes are wide, “Oh boys, what have you created?”

“…When activated, it will deploy the Shadow Network, into which we can shunt specific network traffic. A) The captured node still thinks its in the master system and functions normally. B) The AI then replaces the captured node with a mimic so to the master system, nothing is amiss.”

“The beauty of this is that it does not require us to crack security. When authentication is required, the AI simply returns the node back in to authenticate before shunting it back out. Do you see? We can compel any system to unlock its door by hiding behind the captured node.“ Mark points out looking like he’s about to explode with excitement.

Even Tanner is stunned now. R, who has heard it all before and told them repeatedly how dangerous of an idea this was - has her hands pressed together as if in prayer covering her mouth

“The node itself is tricked into thinking it is still interacting with the master system - which makes it voluntarily reveal information which we can collect or use as we see fit. Alternately we can seed it with misinformation to bring back to the master system.”

“Its the ultimate spy - Agent 1001.” Mark declares gleefully. His attempt at humour falls flat. If he‘d added Ta-Da! at the end of it, Bond was going to cuff him behind the head.

Mark pulls himself together and continues, “In practical terms it means we can change literally any information - while both sides remain unaware because there are now two truths depending on which network you are interacting with. ”

“But that’s just the start—.” Q takes over.

“There’s more?“ Mallory drawls out, feeling a migraine coming.

Q is apologetic, “What’s the most secure form of record keeping at the moment? …Blockchain. A set of records linked cryptographically together, with a distributed ledger that technically guarantees security. You can’t change any data in a block retroactively without changing all the subsequent blocks…. not unless you have consensus of at least 51% of all the nodes in the ledger.“

“Q… As riveting as this exposition is, get to the point.” Bond’s tone is a warning, his consonants sharper. Even he’s catching on to where this is leading and dreading it.

“Yes alright..” Q doesn’t get why everyone seems more upset than impressed.

”The point is, theoretically if we manage to get the worm into a peer-to-peer network and let spread throughout, we can apply the Shadow Network concept to launch a mass ‘eclipse attack’ on the distributed ledger. The nodes in the network must stay in constant contact to compare data for consensus. If the AI shunts off enough of the nodes into its Shadow Network and manage to trick 51% of the nodes into accepting our version of the chain before returning it, we change the ledger. Change the ledger and—“

“—You’ve hacked blockchain.“ Eve finishes for him, disbelieving.

“So are we talking about bitcoin?” Agent Coyle hazards a guess.

“Oh Agent Coyle… cryptocurrency is just the beginning. Just imagine any database that depends on blockchain for its immutability. Voting records? Supply chains? Financial records? Anti-counterfeit measures? The Shadow Network lets you - Change. Your. Digital. Reality.” Q finishes with a flourish; in purely intellectual terms, the concept is truly quite clever.

Tanner looks to Mallory alarmed,“Sir… 35 central banks are now experimenting with issuing digital state currencies on blockchain. At least 10 will be going ahead in this year and another 15 in the next 2 years.“

Silence. You could hear a pin drop.

Bond who has been standing off to the side of the monitors in his characteristic agent pose, legs apart one hand in his pocket; exhales loudly and points out ominously, “So whoever controls the AI, controls the Shadow Network and everything it can do - the Shadow Master. “

All heads in the room turn to Q….

“Yes, that would be one way of putting it. Personally, I prefer the term Shadow Architect,” Q chortles at the absurdity of the comic villain names.

But no one one else is laughing. And they’re all looking at him expectantly. Except Mark, he laughs at all of Q’s jokes.  

-Christ-. Bond is torn between wanting to strangle the oblivious idiot himself and wanting to put the genius in a glass cage for his own safety.

A moment later, Q has a dawning realisation about what he’s managed to get himself into this time.

“It..Its just theoretical!” Denial.

“Technically this belongs to SIS…” Bargaining.

“We just thought it would be a helpful tool for our operatives to turn the odds in their favour!” Anger.

“What in the world possessed me to think…” Depression

“Owwh shit.” Acceptance.

Q stops his pacing in front of the monitor wall and collapses into a chair nearby. Elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

When he’s done cycling through emotions, M raises and eyebrow,“Well, I’m glad we’ve all come to the same conclusion,” M’s sarcasm flies over his head.

——

As a result of the meeting, Q & Mark are sent away to put their project into a secure vault in the servers - until M knows what to do with it. Q feels like they’ve just been sent to ‘time out’ - to think about what they’ve done.

Once he’s done that, he goes to Q-Branch to serve out his sentence.

Q-Branch is the only ‘secret’ arm in SIS that is located between the garage and basement bunkers. It’s more practical that way as larger projects (cars, boats, etc) would be a logistical pain to move if they were on the upper levels. Three whole floors make up Q’s lair that he shares with thirty or so minions.

It’s Saturday, so only a skeleton crew is present most of them are working in the floors below. None are in the office areas.

Bond is still in the meeting upstairs with M and the others. So Q makes himself tea and sticks his nose in the steam curling out of the mug to open his sinuses. He’s running through the theory he’s told the others in his head - trying to poke holes in it. But no, the simulation running on his computer is telling him how terrifyingly efficient the AI would be once activated.

The main doors to Q-Branch offices hiss open. Q doesn’t turn around, knowing who it is. Bond comes to sit a little noisily in a swivel chair next to him, facing the other way. He’s radiating ‘we need to talk’ vibes, but even then Bond usually just invades his space until Q speaks first.

“James, I’m sorry about being a tosser this morning. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. The eggs were fine.” Q makes a peace offering. And since no one is around, he reaches out to trace a finger around Bond’s tie pin.

Bond doesn’t move away which means he’s forgiven. Thats the thing with Bond, he’s not really a man of many words when he’s not actively trying to charm a mark. So when he does want to talk, best pay attention.

“Whats the damage?” Q asks.

“Mark is going to need his own protection detail.”

“Oh, he’s going to love that….” Poor Mark is going to have to explain that to his Bumble dates.

“Well, it might teach him not to be such an enabler and grow a pair around you.”

“Hah! Tell it to his face.”

“I did. Now, stop making him do things that will get him in trouble. You don’t want that on your conscience.” Bond chastises. The poor guy is like Igor to Q’s Dr Frankenstein.

Suitably reproached, Q doesn’t have anything to say for himself. He continues playing with Bond’s tie.

“Mallory is thinking of forming an internal oversight committee to run risk analysis on Q-Branch projects. He doesn’t want to accidentally end up with a cyberworld equivalent of a Manhattan project in his lap.

“He’s afraid I’ll turn into Ozymandias…,” then remembering that Bond probably didn’t get the reference, ”Antagonist, very smart, tries to take over the world.” He supplies by way of explanation.  

Bond laughs a little, “If you do turn villainous, does that make me your henchman?”

Q considers, “More arc nemesis I should think. Don’t pretend that M won’t send you to shot me if I do. And don’t pretend you won’t either.”

“Are you expecting me to refuse?”

“No Mr Bond, I expect you to come get me.”

----  To Be Continued ---

[breadoffoxy]

Jin - Joke’s on You

Pairing: Jin x f. Reader

Words: 2,905

Summary: You blame everything on Jungkook. Sure, the prank war started because Jin and you wanted to put the brat in his place, but it takes an unexpected turn neither of you expected.

You laugh as you mix the red icing in the bowl. Your best friend leans against the counter with a satisfied smile on his face. You just received one of Jin’s famous puns. No matter what, they always make you laugh.

“How do you even come up with this stuff?”

“What can I say I’m just a genius.”

“Oho genius sure.”

“Speaking of genius.” Jin pics up a salt shaker next to him on the counter and gently shakes it as he smirks.

“And how does that make you a genius?”

Jin makes a show of pulling out a small bowl and spoon. You let him take a small scoop of icing that he dumps into the bowl along with a pile of salt. You grin at him and give him a thumbs up. He looks proud of himself too as he mixes the two ingredients together.

This all started because of Jeon Fucking Jungkook. The three of you are in the middle of a prank war because that man brat has the nerve to keep calling you the O word. The unspeakable word. The two of you took action by hiding some of Jungkook’s things around the house, like just one shoe and one glove. It drove him mad looking for it. Your’s and Jin’s snickering kinda gave it away so young man planned his revenge. He planted fake spiders around the men’s shared apartment, which led to lots of screaming and jumping on furniture. The screaming turned worse when Jungkook flung the spider at Jin.

After giving Taehyung some pocket money, he distracted Jungkook with enough time for the two of you to sneak into his room. There you changed the hot keys on his computer hoping it would frustrate him as Jin held Jungkook’s cell phone and filled his storage with many attractive photos. These actions resulted in you coming home to your apartment filled with pictures of Nicholas Cage. You still find some to this day. Jin came home to a strategically placed cut out of Nicholas Cage. It surprised him so bad everyone ran to his at his scream to check up on him. Yoongi even brought a knife.

Things like this have been going on for the last week. And frankly all your other friends who share a living space with Jin and Jungkook are getting tired of it. But no one is going to stop until the other party forfeits. Which doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen anytime soon. Especially since he keeps calling you both-

“Hey Old Couple, when are the cookies ready?”

Your hand tightens on the spatula as you grind your teeth. For starters, the two of you weren’t that old. The both of you are just a few years older than the brat. If he considers you both so much older, he should show some respect. Secondly, you weren’t a couple despite how nice that sounded to your ears. You’ve known the man for what seems like forever and– oh no he doesn’t!

A resounding slap echoes slightly in the kitchen followed by a yell. You’re glad Jungkook’s hand tried to steal some of your precious icing. It broke your train of thought and gave you a reason to hit him. The young man examines his hand and licks the small amount of icing the spatula left on him before winking at you. Another slap rings out. Jungkook grimaces as he rubs the back of his head.

“Yah! Don’t come in here making demands and stealing things. Out, out!” Jin waves his own spatula around and periodically pokes Jungkook with it until he makes his way out of the kitchen. You examine Jin as he continues to wave his spatula, all the while complaining about the nerve the youngest has to call the two of you old and to boss you around. He mentions nothing about being labeled a couple. Does it even matter to him?

Jin and you grew up together and are practically glued to the hip since diapers. You survived the awkward teenage years, late study nights, and the shitshow that is adulting together, well that last one is still in question. Your moms always tease the two of you about being in a relationship, and your pretty sure they already have a wedding planned out. However, all of that made you uncomfortable growing up. The both of you were upset that boys and girls couldn’t be just friends. Now though you wished the opposite.

“You OK, or are you just dazzled by my face that much?”

You jump slightly, almost spilling the bowl of icing. You fumble with it a second before you start mixing again. “Yep, sorry just lost in thought.”

His gaze is questioning as it lingers on you. You nervously look away. Jin can read you like a book and you hope he doesn’t know about your feelings. You’ve been awkward lately by avoiding his touch, not giving as nearly as much eye contact, and always nervously biting your lip because the butterflies are too much. You were hoping it would just be a simple phase that would quickly pass but you feel yourself falling deeper at the compassion he has always shows you and even when he tells you an awful pun.

The oven dings signaling the cookies being done and his gaze finally leaves you. Jin pulls the cookies out of the oven. For a minute you are both silent as you wait for the cookies to cool.

“Have I ever told you the one about the alpaca?”

You smile at his efforts of trying to make you more comfortable again. “Hit me with your best shot.”

The two of you fall into comfortable conversation as the cookies cool. Once they do so you start icing them while making sure to keep one separate for a special someone. The two of you make a plate for each of your friends and take them to the living room. There most of your friends are sprawled out watching a movie. Oos and Aaahs fill the room as they scramble for their plates. You and Jin give a high five as Jungkook sputters on his cookie that he inhales.

“What the hell guys!”

Everyone stops and stares at the body standing in the hallway. The voice that yelled was not Jungkook but an angry Yoongi. A very pink haired Yoongi.

“We match!” Jimin points and yells. His eyes turn into crescents as he giggles. He collapses into himself and falls out of the chair. Taehyung barely catches his friend’s cookies as the young pink haired man is a giggling mess on the floor.

Your eyes are as wide as saucers as you stare at the pink hair on the glowering man. It would be unbelievably cute if Yoongi wasn’t glaring daggers at you, Jin, and Jungkook.

“It looks very nice- “Hoseok gets cut off as Yoongi holds up a finger.

“Not. Another. Word. Except that is for someone to tell me who fucking did this.”

Ok this was not how this was supposed to go. You were not supposed to meet your untimely end because of these pranks. Yes, it was you who waited for everyone to leave the apartment and sneak in with the extra key Jin gave you. It was you who took some of Jimin’s pink dye and funneled it into Jungkook’s shampoo. You were sure you put it in the right bathroom. Then why the hell is Yoongi’s hair pink!?

You pale as Jungkook smirks at you. “I saw Y/N going to your bathroom earlier Hyung, it must have been her.” Oh if this is how he wants to play then you’ll play.

“You couldn’t have seen me since I did it earlier today while no one was here, and I put it in your shampoo Jungkook.”

Jin nods and adds, “Yeah Jungkook. Then explain then how it got into Yoongi’s shampoo if she put it in yours.”

“So, let me get this straight.” Yoongi intervenes. “It’s all three of your faults then.”

“They pranked me first!”

“You switched the dye!”

“Yah how could you think that!”

Yoongi ignores all of your outbursts as he stares coldly at the three of you.

“Ok this has been all well and lovely but I think it’s time to go now!” Jin grabs your hand and darts for the door before you know what’s happening. You stumble behind him as you make your escape. You barely hear Jungkook’s startled pleas, sounds of a scuffle, and the mixture of laughter and giggling as the two of you run down the hall.

The two of you continue running to your nearby apartment. By the time you get there you’re both panting.

“Is it…do you think it’s safe?”

“Yeah…for now. He’s probably too busy murdering Jungkook.” Jin throws a cautionary look over his shoulder anyways just in case.

“And too lazy to follow us.”

“Yes, that too. Unfortunately, he’s more the type to plan his revenge and drag it out.” He brings a hand up to his head as he sighs. “Ah, I’m too handsome to die.”

You go to pat his arm and that is when you realize his hand is still holding yours. You quickly pull your hand away and angle yourself so he doesn’t see your burning face as you pull out your keys. “Um…do you want to come in? You can stay if you want till it’s safe…um safer?”

He laughs lightly, “Thanks. We’re in this together right. I can stay here forever?”

Opening the door, you shake your head. “At least until Yoongi doesn’t completely murder us.”

“Yep because slightly murdered is a lot better.” He steps in behind you and the two of you slip off your shoes. “Hey since I’m here let’s finish our tournament. You game?” He can’t help but laugh. You snicker slightly and give him an eye roll.

“Set up the game loser and I’ll make some popcorn. I’m hungry and we didn’t even get to eat any of the cookies.”

You walk into the kitchen, pull out the popcorn, and start heating it in the microwave. The ding of the game system starting up fills the small apartment. When the popcorn starts doing its thing you feel your phone vibrate. Pulling it out you instantly freeze when seeing the sender. Yoongi’s name displays threateningly across your screen. Ever so slowly you open the message.

‘The pranking stops now. If you do one thing for me, I’ll maybe spare you.’

Hesitantly you type back, ‘and what would that be oh great genius who I love more than anything.’

Your phone dings back quickly. ‘Flattery won’t buy you anything. And we know that’s not true. We all know you love Seokjin so tell him your feelings. Or else.’

Ok so its certain death vs tell your best friend that you have strong secret feelings for him. You think you may be leaning towards death.

“Uggh! What is that smell!?” Jin rushes into the kitchen and rips open the microwave door. Smoke blows out and you spot a rather black bag of popcorn that smells pretty disgusting now that you notice.

Hurriedly you turn on a fan and try to wave some of the smoke away. “I am so sorry! I got distracted.”

Jin reaches into the microwave and carefully pulls out the bag. There is no salvaging it. “Must have been some distraction.” The popcorn goes into the trashcan with a thunk, and he gives you a pointed look. He knows how much you detest burnt popcorn. You’ll complain about the smell for the rest of the day.

Ok. This is it do or die.

“Um…its nothing really.”

Dying it is then.

“Bullshit. You’ve been acting weird lately, and don’t deny it.” He adds on as your about to open your mouth. His gaze then moves to your phone you left on the counter in your haste to turn on the fan. Crap.

The both of you dive for the phone at the same time. With his longer limbs he makes it there just before you do. You scramble with him to try to reach it but he holds it barely outside your reach.

“Give it back!”

“Not a chance!”

His fingers rapidly start typing in your passcode. Your breathing increases as you panic.

“I got a text from Yoongi!”

He stops right before hitting the last digit. “Oh?”

You’re silent and his finger starts slowly moving closer to screen.

“He said the pranks have to stop!”

“And?”

You bite your lip as you look down at the ground. Nails bite into your palm as you make tight fists with your hands. Why does this have to be so difficult.

“Hey, its ok!” Jin puts the phone down and grabs your shoulders with both hands. His thumbs start rubbing small distracting circles. Surprised at the action you glance up at him and you let out your breath. Quickly you find that you can’t hold his gaze, something about it too tender and soft, so you turn your head quickly away again. Almost immediately a large hand leaves your shoulder and is placed on your cheek. It guides you to look back into Jin’s eyes. “I’m just worried about you.”

You lean into his hand slightly, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. You decide you can’t keep worrying him like this. It wasn’t fair to him and it definitely wasn’t fair to yourself. You felt like you couldn’t completely be yourself and you decided you no longer wanted to feel like a lie. Plus, you didn’t survive so much together for your friendship to end here or so you hoped. You open your eyes and do your best to look Jin in the eye.

“Errr so OK he gave me an ultimatum you could say. Either you know the certain death or um I tell you something.”

“You know you can tell me anything right?”

You nod. “Yes. Its just…hard. Sorry I’m trying.” Again, you can’t look him in the eye anymore. “You see the thing is…I um…for awhile now…” In the smallest voice you can muster, you manage to say,” …I like you…a lot.”

You feel Jin’s hold stiffen for a moment before the hand on your cheek moves to your chin and your eyes meets his once again. He’s looking at you in a way you’ve never seen before. His eyes are shining and he’s wearing a grin as he chuckles. Honestly, he has never looked as handsome as he does now. His breath hits your face as he chuckles.

“I got a text from Yoongi too.”

“…You did?”

His thumb traces over your lips as his eyes drift down. A small gasp leaves your lips and his eyes meet yours again.

“I like you too Y/N, a lot.”

The next thing you know there is a pair of soft lips touching your own. When you press back you can feel the smile on his lips. The hand on your shoulder slides down your arm until it reaches your hip and drags you closer. Your hands come up and grip Jin’s shirt as you fall into the kiss.

You only pull away to take a breath of air. Jin’s forehead comes to rest again your own. “Thank you for telling me.”

You huff, “You could have easily told me first.”

He kisses your forehead. “I know. Sorry for taking so long, but I’ll make it up to you.” His lips lightly graze yours again. “I promise.”

“I look forward to it. Right now though I hate to ruin the moment, but I really can’t stand the smell in here.”

“What this isn’t romantic enough for you?” Jin stuffs your face into his chest and his arms wrap around your head. “Here, try to smell only me.”

The sounds of his laughter fill the room along with your screams of protest.

When you and Jin walk back to his apartment you do so hand in hand. Cautiously you open the door and peer inside. No one is there ready to murder you as you walk through the door so that’s a good sign. A head peeks around the corner and your relieved to see its just Taehyung.

He stares openly at your hands before sending a wink your way. “I thought you’d love birds would be gone longer.”

You groan as Jin answers, “We would but someone’s house smells like burnt popcorn.”

“Huh.” Taehyung points behind him into the living room. “Also, you may want to see this.”

He disappears as the two of you take your shoes off. Curiously you round the corner and are surprised at what you see. There before you is still a pink haired Yoongi but instead of being murderous he’s wearing his gummy smile and laughing with Jimin. The two are taking selfies and being super adorable with their matching pink hair. Jungkook spots you from where he’s sitting and grins.

“What’s going on?”

Yoongi doesn’t even bother looking at you. “You know I think pink is a nice look.”

“Eh?” Both you and Jin are equally confused. Jungkook’s grin only gets larger.

“I figured out you messed with my shampoo when I got home, and asked hyung if he’d help me out. He wanted to have fun too.”

“Got you!” Yoongi yells out as him and Jimin take another selfie.

“What!?”

[cake-writes]

In Your Atmosphere (Part Three)

Pairings: Steve x Reader & platonic Bucky x Reader (mostly)

Warnings: PTSD / Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Anxiety Disorder, Panic Attacks, Mental Health Issues, Survivor Guilt, Eventual Smut 18+

Summary: The first time you met Steve Rogers, he kissed the hell out of you. It wasn’t the first time he met you.

Part Two / Master List

—

As the sun disappeared under the horizon, the compound became busier, almost bustling with activity as more and more people returned from their missions. Not that you noticed. After your brutal training session with Steve, you'd left him behind to finish his training and took another long, hot shower and then a nap, having been thoroughly and completely wiped out by the exercise. At first, you’d changed back into your casual clothes with the intention of exploring more of the compound, but once you went to rest your eyes for a minute you were out like a light.

The sounds of a heated argument followed by the slamming of a door were what woke you from your slumber. You couldn’t hear a lick of what had been said, but you ventured out into the hallway to investigate, yawning loudly. Your muscles were already singing from overuse – not even the hot shower had helped – and you’d feel it even worse tomorrow for sure.

The long hallway was dimly-lit, giving you the impression that it was much later than it actually was; a quick check of your phone indicated that it was a little after eight o’clock at night.

During your tour earlier in the day, you'd learned that this entire side of the building was residential, including the three floors above and the two below yours. It was evident that other people lived on your floor, the third floor, but you hadn’t yet figured out who your neighbours were. Your bedroom was in the corner, furthest from the stairs, and as you made your way toward them, you assumed that you probably wouldn't be finding out tonight. The other doors were closed, and it was far too quiet for your liking.

Your stomach growled and you gave up on your investigation to make your way to the kitchen. Considering everyone who lived here were all basically roommates, there were bound to be arguments. You knew from experience that it was hard to live with other people sometimes, and the Avengers were people, too.

The kitchen was deserted, and the dishwasher was running. It looked like everyone may have already eaten dinner. How did that even work, anyway? Did they share meals at the kitchen table, or did they eat separately? Who bought the groceries? Were they for communal use? At the very least you hoped that the answer to the last question was ‘yes,’ because you were starving.

Not wanting to accidentally steal someone else’s food, you took a mandarin orange from the fruit bowl on the table, in hopes that it would stave off your hunger while you tried to figure out what else you could eat without imposing. You took a seat at the counter and peeled the fruit as you scrolled through your Insta feed, liking a couple of Wanda’s posts. She was really excited about an upcoming high-end makeup release based on the female Avengers, herself included. She even had her own eyeshadow palette which you made a mental note to buy.

Just as you started to research the other palettes, a female voice piped up from the other side of the kitchen island. “Hey, you’re up.”

You jumped, slamming your knee on the counter in the process.

“God damn it, Nat,” you hissed, rubbing your bruising knee. “I hate it when you do that shit.”

She just grinned at you and took a seat at the counter beside you, peering at your phone. “Oh yeah, those are coming out next week. You’d better buy mine.”

“You know I will,” you told her, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth. Not that you knew how to use it properly, the makeup, but you liked to try anyway.

Natasha took a piece of your orange for herself without asking, but that was only because you’d shared plenty of meals before, namely when the two of you went drinking. It didn’t bother you in the least. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” You knew what she was asking, about how you were coping with what had happened earlier. At her skeptical look, you rolled your eyes. “We did some burpees and talked it out.”

Natasha snorted.

You frowned at her. “What? Exercise calms me down. You know that.”

You purposely didn’t mention the fact that you and Steve had trained together for over an hour, or that the sexual tension between the two of you had been so thick you could’ve cut it with a knife. It was unfortunate that your face heated at the memory, because Natasha didn’t fail to notice if the sly look on her face was any indication. “Is that what it does, now?”

“Yes,” you said exasperatedly, shoving the rest of the orange into your mouth.

She laughed again. “Burpees. Christ. You’re perfect for each other.”

You finished chewing and swallowed the fruit. “Can you not?"

She shot you another teasing look, but as per your request she changed the subject. “Have you had dinner?”

“No, I was going to ask. Is everything shared, or…?”

“Yeah,” she affirmed. “Pretty much. If you buy something for yourself, though, just write your name on it before you put it in the fridge. Otherwise someone will get into it.”

As if on cue, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, walked in for a post-workout snack – at least that’s what you assumed from the gym towel slung over his shoulders. There were two large refrigerators in the room, one by the entryway and one near you, behind the kitchen island. He went for the former, from which he pulled out a random blue container and cracked the lid to peer inside.

“Like I said,” Natasha said, eyeing him warily, “Someone.”

You tried and failed to stifle a laugh. From what you understood, Sergeant Barnes had been through hell and back, so you couldn't really blame him. He was probably still adjusting to not being a human science experiment. That was probably a little more important than remembering to check a container for names.

“I only take Nat’s food,” he commented dryly, not even bothering to look over at the two of you as he popped the container into the microwave. “She likes to eat healthy. So do I. Your body’s a temple ‘n all that.”

You raised an eyebrow and glanced over at her for confirmation. She just shrugged. Well, you couldn't really blame him for that, either.

After the microwave started up, he leaned on the counter and finally spared a glance at you. Then he greeted you casually, “Oh, hey, Tang. Been awhile.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

That was when his eyes widened for a split second, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head as he realized what he’d said - not that you had any idea what that was, exactly.

“Sorry,” he covered quickly, “You, uh, look like someone I used to know.” As if that was a good enough explanation, he came over and held out his right hand, the flesh one, for a handshake. “Call me Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said politely, shaking his hand as you offered him your name.

Then he brought your hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss to the back of it with a crooked smile.  “Good to meet you, too, gorgeous.”

Maybe it was because your brain was already fried from the day’s earlier events, but you just gaped at him. That made twice in one day you’d been hit on, and by two Avengers, no less. Bucky was plenty handsome, of course: he had that sort of ‘bad boy’ appeal, with a bit of scruff on his face and a head of unruly brown hair. It suited him, but you couldn’t help but wonder how often it got in the way during fights. You liked to have yours pulled back out of the way, or cut short, depending on the mission.

The microwave beeped, then, signalling that his food was ready, and he released your hand to go retrieve it.

“I think you broke her,” Nat remarked.

“Nat,” you huffed, “You need to stop.”

You definitely weren’t used to this kind of attention. While in the past you’d been on missions where your role was that of a seductress, you’d never actually had that sort of appeal in your regular life. Today was a freak occurrence.

Bucky just laughed and, with his container and a fork in hand, he made his exit. He called over his shoulder on his way out, “See you around, sweetheart.”

---

What was meant to be a quick meal turned into a spontaneous girls’ night, with wine and cheese and stupid, terrible spy movies. That had always been a favourite for you and Natasha, because they were so hilariously inaccurate and the two of you loved to rip them apart. This one in particular was worse than most, but then again, you’d already polished off a bottle of wine each and were well into a third.

It felt so, so good to catch up with her. You hadn’t had a chance to over the last few months, considering how busy she’d been with the Avengers and how hard you’d been working to dig into SHIELD’s corruption. Every now and then, you did a welfare check on her to ensure that she was still alive, and of course she was. You had no doubt that she checked up on you every now and again, too.

Your peals of laughter spilled out of the living room as Natasha did a particularly awful impression of the female lead, who seemed to have no common sense whatsoever.

Sadly, your fun was rudely interrupted.

“It’s three in the morning, ladies. I can hear you all the way…”

Steve’s reprimand trailed off as he caught sight of you, and it was like his irritation seemed to just melt away. You were sitting cross-legged on the sofa, looking pretty as a picture with a blanket thrown over your lap, face flushed from the alcohol. He’d been able to hear all the excitement from his room upstairs, but he didn’t really put two and two together until he saw you. It wasn’t that he didn’t recognize your voice; it just caught him off-guard. It had been a long, long time since he'd seen you smile, and even longer since he'd heard you laugh.

You glanced over at Natasha, brows raised. “Uh oh,” you managed to say in between giggles, “We’re in trouble, now.”

“Busted,” she agreed with a grin, before she let out a sigh. “I guess it is getting late, though. Got an early mission.”

As Natasha got to her feet, Steve eyed the coffee table and spotted three bottles of wine, two of which were empty and the third, nearly so. Beside them were two wine glasses, a small platter of cheese, crackers, and grapes, as well as a half-eaten block of chocolate. Judging by the haphazard way the chocolate bar had been opened, with the foil ripped and crumpled in such a strange way, he guessed that it was yours.

“Aw, but the movie isn’t over,” you protested, reaching over to break off a piece of chocolate.

He was right.

“Sorry,” she told you apologetically, taking one last cube of cheese for the road. “Night, guys.”  

With one final pout, you said, “Bye, Nat.”

Steve didn’t miss the sly look Natasha shot him as she left the room, and his jaw tensed. He wasn’t going to live down the day's earlier events for a while.

“There’s still plenty of cheese left,” you called out to him, not wanting it to go to waste. “And wine, if you like that sort of thing.”

“What are you watching?” he asked you, slowly coming to stand beside the sofa.

“It’s called Hitler’s Mistress.” At Steve’s unimpressed look, you added, “His girlfriend is an American spy, except she’s really bad at it. Like, in real life he probably would have figured it out in the first two minutes of meeting her, bad.”

“That sounds…” he paused, wrinkling his nose as he tried to think of a nice way to word it, “not that great.”

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” you told him matter-of-factly. “It was supposed to be a love story, but it’s terrible. Watch with me?”

Considering his history, he didn’t particularly want to watch a movie about Hitler, but you really seemed to be enjoying it and he was awake, now. So, taking your word for it, he settled into the nearby armchair. “Sure.”

You were a bit disappointed that he didn’t next to you on the sofa like Natasha had, but that was fine. It was probably better that you didn’t sit together, considering, well, everything.

What you didn't know was that Steve had purposely not sat there for exactly that reason. He wanted to respect your boundaries, for one, and for two, he honestly didn’t trust himself around you, not after the stunt he'd pulled. In the end, though, he was glad that he stayed. The movie was absolutely terrible, and he got a kick out of it just as much as you did. Hitler was portrayed in a negative light, which was great, and it was even better that his ‘girlfriend,’ the spy, was so bad at her job and he still couldn’t figure it out. While Steve appreciated that, what he liked more was spending time with you.

Unfortunately, you were sauced. You put on pretty good front so as not to appear drunk, but tonight it wasn’t intentional; it had just become second nature to you now due to your job. And, quite the opposite, not once did Steve touch the alcohol. You got the impression that he preferred beer or spirits.

As the full extent of your inebriation started to set in, you found yourself staring less at the movie and more at him. God, he was flawless and so, so sexy even when he wasn’t trying to be. He was literally just sitting there, but all you wanted to do was get up, go over, and mount him like a stallion. Every now and then, Steve leaned over to take a piece of cheese or a grape - a simple movement, really - and when he licked his fingers, it lit a fire within you that just wouldn’t quit.

It didn’t take long for you to polish off the rest of the wine. There wasn’t much of it left, anyway, and you didn’t want it to go down the drain. At least, that’s what you told yourself. The real reason was because your nerves were shot.

That was a mistake.

The credits started to roll sooner than you would have liked. It was about four o’clock, now, per the clock on your phone. Even though you knew how late it was, there was just something about him that made you want to stay with him, spend time with him… maybe even sleep with him. No, that was definitely just the alcohol. With a heavy sigh, you unsteadily got to your feet and stretched, doing your best to ignore the growing heat between your legs, the lingering soreness in your muscles, and the fact that you’d had far too much to drink.

“You alright?”

When you turned your head to look at Steve, you swayed a little. “Peachy keen.”

You weren’t. You’d drank quite a bit, and he knew it, judging by the amused expression on his face as he pulled himself up out of the armchair. God, with even that simple action you could see his muscles flex and strain under his shirt. He wasn’t even doing it on purpose, which made it about ten times worse.

“Here." He held out his hand to you. “I’ll help you up to your room.”

How chivalrous. You wanted to swoon.

“But the mess—?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ll take care of it, doll. Come on.”

Your face heated at the casual address, and even more so when you took his hand, your skin tingling at the warmth of his touch. Still, you felt guilty letting him clean up after you, but you were in no state to try and collect the leftover plates and glasses without dropping them. Your words slurred just a little as you apologized, “I'm sorry for the trouble. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen Nat, and…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you as he eased you down the hallway. “Everyone needs to let loose once in a while.”

“Do you?” you asked him.

He pondered that question for a moment, before he answered, “Not as much as I should.”

“Well, that’s no good,” you said with a frown. “Have a drink with me next time.”

Next time. The phrase warmed his heart, but he got the feeling that it was just the alcohol talking. “Next time?”

You didn’t notice what you said until he mentioned it, and then you found yourself flustered, drunkenly babbling, “I shouldn’t have assumed– I mean, I’m a mess so I totally understand if you don’t want to—”

Steve said your name and stopped walking, giving your hand a gentle tug to stop you, too. "Hey," he said as you spun around to face him, swaying slightly. “I’m kidding. That sounds great.”

The halls, unlike the living room, were still dimly lit, and with the television switched off, it was quiet - almost unnervingly so. The only thing you could hear was the sound of your racing heartbeat in your ears as you looked up into his kind blue eyes, feeling absolutely minuscule in front of him. He was so tall, a fact you’d never fully realized until now. You loved it.

Despite your inebriated state, you didn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes flickered down to your lips. 

You needed to say something, anything, to break this tension, otherwise you’d do something you would absolutely regret in the morning. You’d always prided yourself in your professionalism: you weren’t the type to sleep with a coworker, and you didn’t plan to start today despite how incredibly tempting the prospect was. 

That thought sobered you up a little.

“Do you—” you began, throat dry, “Do you have a mission in the morning, too?”

Your sudden question brought him back to reality. “Oh, yeah. With Romanoff.”

You grimaced and gently released his hand, not wanting to take up any more of his time. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up so late.”

“I think I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” he teased, “being 96 and all.”

Right. Of course. You knew his backstory, but having him come right out and tell you something like that came as a bit of a shock. Here you were, in your mid-twenties, being attracted to someone who'd been born nearly a full century prior. How stupid of you to assume that you'd be able to relate to him, someone who had grown up during the Great Depression. There was literally nothing in common between the two of you, no foundation upon which to even build a friendship, let alone a relationship. You felt like a moron.  

Well, you certainly swooned, but it wasn’t because of his chivalry.

“Whoa, hey.” Steve caught you easily as you fell, with one arm around your lower back. “Do you want to sit down?”

Your fingers embedded themselves loosely in his shirt as a flush of shame crawled up your neck. God, you were an idiot. Even now, you loved how strong his chest felt under your fingertips, the way he held you so securely, his warmth—

Your eyes fluttered shut, then, and your head lulled back as your consciousness began to fade. You could vaguely feel him pull you closer, and when he said your nickname again, you thought that his voice sounded so far away. It barely registered when he hooked his other arm under your knees to lift you up; instead, for a brief moment, it felt like you were floating.

That was the last thing you remembered.

---

Tags: @jennmurawski13, @patzammit

Part Four

[crimsonbluemoon]

Pretty Young Ohm (And Other Great Hits): OhmToonz Oneshot

Okay, so I know I just hit you all with a super sad story for DDW, but this time I come bearing a silly, fluffy, funny one-shot with Ohmtoonz! I hope it makes y’all forgive me for today and tomorrow! <3

In case you wanna heard the song, its “P.Y.T” by Michael Jackson

Pretty Young Ohm (And Other Great Hits) 

“I know he did not just say that.” The astonishment on Luke’s face felt a little over the top for Ohm, who arched an eyebrow at his next door neighbor before turning back to the pasta he was straining. Cartoonz didn’t seem done with his rant, Ryan catching his movements from the corner of his eye. “Mini, he did not just say that.”

“I think he did, man,” Craig answered, adding a few ‘tsks’ at the end of his reply.

“My roommate’s shitty choice in music doesn’t reflect on me in any way shape or form.” Panda, who’d been working on pulling the breadsticks from the oven, sent Ryan a teasing smile his way before moving the hot sheet to deposit the bread onto a plate. Huffing, he shook the strainer once more before pouring the large heaping of ziti into the stainless steel pot.

“I’m allowed to have an opinion,” Ohm defended, leaning over to snatch the jar of spaghetti sauce from Mini, who sat on the counter between the stove and the fridge.

Friday nights were always like this for the pair of roommates that lived across the hall from each other. Ryan and Anthony had moved into the apartment complex eight months ago, being greeted rather early by Mini in their moving process. Luke was introduced soon after, the four hitting it off quite well despite their differing schedules and busy lives. Friday nights tended to be the only time that the four all had off, and it was Panda who’d suggested having dinner together. The logic had been it would cost less money for each pair to buy dinner every other week than each week (Ohm didn’t have to heart to explain to his good-intended friend that buying for four every other week was the same as buying for two each week). Mini and Cartoonz had agreed, and for over three months, their weekly ritual hadn’t been disturbed.

Currently, the four were in Luke’s and Craig’s apartment, which was why Ryan couldn’t scold Mini for sitting on the counter while ‘they’ (Ohm and Panda knew it was better to keep the other two away from anything that could catch fire) prepared dinner.

“Not if it’s a shitty one!” Luke shouted, Ryan ignoring him to stir the sauce into the pasta. “Like damn, Ohm, how can you diss the king of pop like that?”

“I just don’t like his music. You were dissing the Beatles the other day,” was Ohm’s counter, Cartoonz wincing when Mini let out a gasp.

“You what?”

“Top ten anime betrayals,” Panda tossed in, snickering at the glare Luke sent Ryan before facing his distraught roommate.

“Can we focus on the real issue here? Which is Ohm saying Michael Jackson is trash.”

“That’s not what I- you’re putting words in my mouth, Toonzy.” The nickname didn’t faze anyone in the room, as Ryan used it more and more often as the friendship evolved.

Though he got along well with Mini, and Luke would play magic with Panda every Wednesday night, there was a different connection between Ohm and Cartoonz. They texted daily, even if they were supposed to be working or out with other friends. The time they spend at each other’s apartment far exceeded normal standards, and Ryan couldn’t count how many times they’d been mistaken as ‘dating’ when they went out for dinner or a movie. Panda had long ago started calling Luke his boyfriend, and he suspected Mini had been trying to get them together for months. And Ryan wanted to be annoyed with this, wanted to claim that it wasn’t something that crossed his mind every time he caught Luke smiling at him or their hands lingering a little too long to be deemed friendly. He wanted to say he wasn’t in love with the man now poking his ribs with an adorable pout on his handsome face…

But he was. He so was.

“Oh I’ll put something in your mouth.” The dirty joke was followed with another poke to his side, making Ohm giggle from the ticklish spot and the stupid statement. To escape the touch, Ohm scampered around the island, bringing the pot to sit on the marble. But Luke refused to let the topic drop. “I can’t believe you’re trying to diss like that.”

“I like some of his stuff!”

“Thriller isn’t liking MJ,” Panda said, plopping down into the chair at the table. “That’s like when Mini gets drunk and says he can dance. The YMCA doesn’t count, and neither does Thriller.”

“I’m offended with how right you are.” Mini contradicted the statement when he blew a kiss to Anthony, who pretended to pocket the sign of affection.

“I just… I didn’t get the hype for him,” Ohm admitted, glancing back to Luke with a shrug. “I didn’t own his album or anything when I was little, either. So I didn’t listen to most of his music.”

“We need to change this right now. Mini, throw on the Bluetooth.”

“I gotchu.” Craig swiped his phone off the counter to follow his roommate’s request, Ohm sighing before he leaned against the island.

“Hearing his song isn’t going to make me like it.”

“That’s just because you’ve never heard me sing it to you.” The reply had Ryan blinking, too surprised to speak. Luke was going to sing? He knew his friend enjoyed the hobby, and he did have a good voice. But he was going to sing? To Ohm? The idea made something funny twist in his stomach, and he tried not to think about it when the funky start of the song popped up.

“Oh fuck! This song is the shit.” Panda seemed pleased with the song choice, but Ryan had no idea what the song was. So instead he turned back to Luke, who didn’t hesitate to jump into the lyrics.

“You know you… you make me feel so good inside.” Ohm rolled his eyes when Cartoonz spoke the words of the intro, hating how his stomach fluttered in affection when Luke pointed his finger toward him and smirked. “I always wanted an Ohm just like you… Such a P.Y.T.-Pretty Young Thing.”

“Stop changing the song,” Ohm chided, Luke grinning before swiping his eyes to the counter that Mini sat perched upon. The slide he did was in tune to the beat of the song, dramatically leaning his arm onto the fridge beside him and singing the next set of words.

“Where did you come from lady? And ooh won't you take me there, right away won't you baby?” Mini shook his head at the fake pick up line, though Ryan could see the other’s feets swaying to the peppy beat as Luke continued to ‘flirt’. “Tenderoni, you've got to be, spark my nature, sugar fly with me.”

“This isn’t proving anything,” Ryan called out through a laugh, though Luke seemed too busy with spreading his hand through the air in front of Mini and pushing into the next verse.

“Don't you know now, is the perfect time?  We can make it right. Hit the city lights!” And then Cartoonz was pulling Mini away from his resting spot, Craig unable to hide a laugh when Luke yanked him toward the open floor of the dining room. Ryan’s head turned to follow the two,  Panda clapping once as Luke twirled Mini around.  “Then tonight, ease the loving pain Let me take you to the max. I want to love you-”

“P.Y.T!” Ryan shook his head when Mini caved to Luke’s charm, eagerly adding the acronyms to each part of the chorus. Luke’s lips continued to follow the ridiculous lyrics while he danced with Craig, hands pressed together so he could swing Mini with the acrobatic moves.

“Pretty young thing. You need some lovin'-”

“T.L.C!”

“Tender love and care. And I'll take you there. Anywhere. Yes I will-” The final spin that Luke gave Mini had him twirling into Ryan’s side by the island, and Ohm glanced up to see that Cartoonz’s eyes were already on him when he vocalized the line with the wrong word. “Ohm.”

“You are not going to convince me this is a good song, Luke.” Ryan answered, hating that he could feel his face starting to warm at the affection curled through the tone. Cartoonz didn’t look deterred from his goal, though moved his attention to the man sitting at the table. Panda whistled when Luke slowly started to slink toward him, hands sliding down his body in a way that shouldn’t have made a slight twitch of awareness spark in Ohm’s lower stomach.

“Nothing can stop this burning desire to be with you. Got to get to you baby. Won't you come, it's an emergency?” Then Luke dropped to his knees in front of Anthony, who simply winked down at the singing man and teasingly parted his legs. Ryan knew, logically, that there was nothing going on between the two. Both men enjoyed pushing the limits of social norms when it came to sexuality, so it shouldn’t have made Ohm’s lips hint at a scowl when Luke crept a hand up the other’s thigh to capture the palm resting there. “Cool my fire yearning, honey, come set me free.”

“Oh, baby,” Panda replied, laughing when Luke popped up to drop into Anthony’s lap, arm slung over the other’s shoulders to steady himself while he sung. 

“Don't you know now is the perfect time? We can dim the lights, just to make it right.” Luke added a tilt to his head in order to lean it into Anthony’s, adding to the ‘romantic’ scene he was painting in his song. “In the night, hit the loving spot, I'll give you all that I've got!”

“Sing, Ohm!” Mini called out, jogging over to jump onto Anthony’s lap when Cartoonz popped off of it to start again into the chorus. Ryan shook his head quickly, refusing to recognize the relief he felt at the separation between his roommate and Luke, now dancing around the kitchen.

“I want to love you-”  

“P.Y.T.!” The duo at the table shouted in tandem, and Ohm sent a shot of betrayal at Panda for joining the other side. Anthony showed how much he cared about the look with a wave of his hand, moving it to keep the bouncing Mini from falling backwards and cracking his head open on the tile floor.

“Pretty young thing, You need some lovin'-” Cartoonz made sure to extend the last word, just as the singer had done, eyes flickering over to Ryan while the ‘backup singers’ jumped in to assist.

“T.L.C!”

“Tender love and care, and I'll take you there.” Luke seemed more than happy to allow Anthony to take over the bridge of the song, tossing in the grunts and over exaggerated breathing that popped up in every 80s tune. Mini’s air guitar between the noises had Ryan smacking his forehead, questioning silently why he was friends with the duo. Distracted by the scene, Ohm let out a squeak of surprise when a hand curled around his waist, pulling him away from the island he was leaning on. He didn’t get far, bumping into the warm chest of Cartoonz. He glanced up at the taller man and scowled, nose scrunching when Luke tapped it with his finger before singing again.

“Pretty young things, repeat after me.”

“Cartoonz-”

“Say na na na, ” Luke continued, though Ohm simply tightened his lips and refused to comply.

“Na na na!” But it didn’t seem Mini and Panda had the same reservation, eagerly repeating the mindless words each time Cartoonz sang them. Ohm’s mind was slightly preoccupied by the arm around his waist, and how little space was left between him and Luke. The feel of the warm chest against his own vibrating each time ‘na’ was sung in a different pattern made Ryan’s stomach flip, and he awkwardly rested his hands over Luke’s chest to try and ignore the sensation. Luke took the moment to snag Ohm’s hand, but unlike Mini, Cartoonz linked their fingers together. The intimate touch made it easier to pull Ryan into the open space and dance, their hips swaying against each other as Luke sang directly to Ohm.  

“I will take you there.”

“Get him, Cartoonz!” Panda’s cheer of their neighbor made Ohm try to cover his face, but the hand that was pressed over his nose eyes was nuzzled by Luke’s nose and lips, a gesture that felt far too domestic between friends. For the first time since the start of the lively song, Luke’s voice lowered, not seeming to hear their roommates adding their parts to the chorus. It felt like Cartoonz was no longer trying to prove a point, murmuring the lyrics against the fingertips that Ryan had resting on the top of his cheek.

“I want to love you, pretty young thing.” The barest of kisses skimmed his skin, and Ryan’s breath caught the same time that his heart forgot how to beat properly. “You need some lovin', tender love and care. And I'll take you there, take you there.”

“Lu-Luke-”

“I want to love you.” Ohm’s eyes widened before he pulled back from the dance, hand falling away to catch Luke’s expression. He stared up at Cartoonz, unsure if the flush on the other’s face was from their dancing or the honesty that shone in his words despite the scripted words. More lyrics could be heard in the distance under the chipmunk voice Panda was trying to copy (much to Mini’s cackling delight), but Luke didn’t say them, his eyes flickering down to Ryan’s lips before looking back up at him. The question didn’t need to be stated, and for a moment Ohm wondered if it ever needed to. Really, the chemistry between them was kind of hard to miss.

And here, being held in Luke’s arms after being serenaded, Ohm threw every line they’d been afraid to cross to the wind. His hands reached up to cup Cartoonz’s face, yanking him down into a kiss. The slack of shock in the other’s lips barely lasted a moment before Luke was kissing him senseless, backing them up into the island in order to deepen the kiss without worry of Ohm toppling over. Somewhere in the kitchen, Mini was cheering over Panda’s whistle, but Ryan’s focus was on the delicious taste of the man now kissing every logical thought out of his mind. Hands ran over each other’s faces and necks like it was necessary to keep breathing, lips parting to share swipes of tongue too shy to cross the seam of their own lips. But the exchange felt right, so right, and Ryan struggled to open his eyes when the kiss finally broke apart. Chests pressed against each other to try and catch their breath, Ohm having to swallow twice before he could get his words out.

“Yo-you missed a part.”

“Kinda think that was better than finishing some stupid song.” Luke answered easily, hand moving up to brush Ryan’s hair out of his face.

“So now the song’s dumb?” Ohm asked, rolling his eyes despite the wide smile on his face.

“It does say ‘tenderoni’ a fuck ton of times.” Mini’s input in the conversation was ignored by Luke, who leaned closer to kiss Ohm again.

Ryan took the affection as a sign of as a win, in more ways than one.

Ahhh fluff and fun! I hope that you enjoyed it <3 Like always, please like, reblog, and let me know what you think!

[saleintothe90s]

384. “Mad About You” series finale (5/24/1999)

(source)

So, I remember watching the series finale of Mad About You that night, but I haven’t watched it again since it originally aired. I do remember feeling let down at the end however. This is what I remember from 20 years ago, maybe I’ll remember some forgotten details once I re watch it...which I will after I make this list: 

- Janeane Garofolo was Paul & Jamie’s daughter Mabel all grown up and she had come out with a documentary about her life? Her dad’s life? The film was everything after 1999?

-Paul & Jamie bought the apartment across from them and merged it into theirs? Which didn’t make any sense. Everybody had to walk through P&J’s bedroom to get to the expansion?

-Paul & Jamie were pregnant again with twins but she lost the babies? I just remember the scene where Paul rushes into the apartment with a double stroller excited that he found one. He sees the message light on the answering machine and it’s Jamie. I was trying to figure out if this was early on when Mabel was still a one year old, and one seat in the stroller was for her, or Jamie was pregnant with twins. 

-Paul’s dad died real early on in the episode. 

-Paul and Jamie wonder who should give her the birds and the bees talk when Mabel is a teenager, but turns out they waited too long. When Paul sits down with her to discuss it, she interrupts him and says that she’s already had sex, or she was already on the pill. Paul decides to take Mabel out for bagels every Saturday morning so he can remain closer to her. I just remember them eating bagels and sitting on a stoop. 

- Paul and Jamie separate for realz this time. Remember when they temporarily separated but then got back together and Jamie got pregnant with Mabel?  

[That episode is titled “The Finale”, please don’t confuse it for this one like I almost did. In case you’re wondering about my bitmoji dressed like a snail, our power went on and off the entire time I was writing this. I went ahead and used that save video me website so I could watch the clips offline.] 

- Jamie had become really cold at that point in her life and Paul had it. 

-The last scene was everybody watching Mabel’s documentary in a movie theater and P&J were a little embarrassed. Paul (almost crying) asks Jamie if she would like to go out for pie.

-Clearly they hadn’t shot enough because the last five minutes were “home movies” of the two and Mabel in central park. The montage seemed to last for-ever. 

-Before I re-watch, I also wanted to mention that I hate the theme song! 

I found the episode on DailyMotion, and the username of the uploader is “Magic School Bus” ... ms. frizzle is that you?  It also appears that Ms. Frizzle recorded this episode from syndication, so there might be a tiny scene or two missing. 

(part 1, part 2)

(Apparently it’s on the internet archive too, but it took forever to get the vid to play on my iPad. It has commercials though!) https://archive.org/details/MelrosePlaceHomeImprovementFinales1999 

So, Mabel’s film was titled “The reason why I am this way”. Maybe a grad school project?. Janeane looks grad school age here. 

The film starts with Paul & Jamie’s anniversary when Mabel was 1 in 1999. I was right!

A bird pooped on Paul! Nah, it was just Lyle Lovett the construction worker spilling paint. He married Jamie n Paul 7 years ago, but turns out he’s NOT an ordained minster, so they’re not officially married.  This is so dumb. Such a trope, right? 

Jamie is freaking out that they’re not really husband and wife. Paul is the rational one here, he says just go to city hall next week! Jamie is all “no, we gotta do it today, its our anniversary!”  So they go, there’s a chapel at city hall, there’s a lady named Phyllis there as a witness and who throws rice (25¢ a throw!)  

Stupidly, however, Jamie runs away. I do remember this freeze frame from the episode.

There’s lots of jumping around through time while all this is going on, I forgot about that, I just thought it was a straight up timeline.

We jump to 2005 where P&J are in therapy for the thousandth time, also when Paul goes in for a vasectomy. At first, I didn’t realize that Jamie was talking to her sister, Lisa in the waiting room since she had short hair. Jamie tries to explain to her that Mabel doesn’t need a sister, but Lisa guilt trips her. Jamie tells Paul that she thinks they made a mistake. They Michael Scott-eded it:

It’s 2011 and P&J are trying to give 11 year old Mabel the sex talk.

In 2004 Murray (remember, the dog? Yeah, the dog got forgotten somewhere in the series) got a girlfriend and they had puppies!  There is the best scene ever where Paul teaches Mabel how to shoot video and Nat the dog walker (played by Helen Hunt’s then husband, Hank Azaria) does a play talk show with the puppies. IT’S TOO CUTE, I put it on instagram. I forgot that Hank was on the show. I still remember how heartbroken I was though when Hank and Helen broke up, though.

There’s a real quick scene in the sports shop that Paul’s family owns (which I forgot about in the series). Jeff Garlin (who I like to call “Daddy Goldberg” since I love him on The Goldbergs) is teasing Paul for all his vasectomies. blah blah. You know what I noticed? That old Sketchers shoebox! Those ugly chunky metallic shoes they made in ’95 ’96 used to come in those boxes.  aw. ugliest shoes I ever had, they were most def. Airwalk Jim knockoffs. ANYWAY.

Mabel’s first film “Stabbing Bob” comes out in late 2021 when she’s 23. The whole family is there, including Cyndi Lauper who married Paul’s brother  cousin Ira. The whole family tries to get Paul and Jamie to sit together, so obviously something went DOWN between 2011 and 2021. This is when the syndicated version cuts off.

Part 2 begins again with Mabel’s documentary and her asking “Who do you think was responsible for my parents breakup? The one who ran away from the altar and changed her mind three times about whether or not her partner should have painful private surgery … or the other guy?” So when this film was made, Jamie and Paul were still broken up? Mabel is really tearing Jamie up a new one here. Jamie is the devil.

Back to 2005 and Jamie is pregnant, because Paul didn’t get that vasectomy. This is where everything is back on track with my memories of the episode. Except for those ugly ass pajamas. wow. Jamie is only supposed to be 42 here, the pajamas and glasses made her look 60.

2012, Mabel is 14 and she never did get that sex talk…perfect tribute to Whitney though, considering she had recently died.

Oh, no here comes the stroller scene in 2006. Paul is so happy, he says, “I found it! Last one in the city, and I found it! One big seat one little seat! 2 kids, one carriage! One big happy family. ” Uh, Mabel is 9.  The “one big seat, one little seat!”  makes me wonder if the writers forgot what year it was? Why would there be a big seat and a little seat?” Twins are the same size.  Those stroller seats look the same size. Paul finds a note left by Jamie, so it wasn’t an answering machine message.

In early 2021 we see Jamie’s bff Fran, FINALLY. I was wondering where Fran was! She was married to Richard Kind and he left her so he could ride motorcycles like “Easy Rider”, (remember when Fran kept calling the movie “The Easy Rider” and it drove Richard crazy, he was like, “the name of the movie is EASY RIDER, NOT ‘THE EASY RIDER!”). Riffs is somehow still open, martini glasses are taller, forks have clear spiral handles, and Fran be looking like something that walked off the Enterprise.  

Oh, and Paul left Jamie. Jamie now is wearing reading glasses around her neck. Oh, honey noo, you’re only 58.  Here is Helen Hunt in 2018:

Paul said that Jamie is unkind and that was why he was leaving.  

Aw, there’s my fozzie bear!

Costume and Makeup got Paul Reiser exactly right though!

After that, Paul & Jamie had to be straight with Mabel at all times. Ok, whatever:

 So I was also wrong about Paul’s died dying when Mabel was little.

On the way to the funeral, Paul’s mom encourages the two to pay a bribe so they can buy the apartment across the hall. She says, “Then Mabel can have a room.” …. Mabel didn’t have a room? She was 13 in the Murray’s not real scene. Where did she sleep?!  Now I remember thinking way back then that the episode left a lot of plot holes open, this being one!

I remember feeling kind of turned off by this elevator scene with the sad music after the funeral. I didn’t know the phrase back then, but now I know that it feels so forced. We get it. Paul’s mom is alone.

Casting didn’t do a good job with teenage Mabel, she’s supposed to be 18 in 2015 and it’s still the girl who played her when she was 12. w2g. I didn’t make a screen grab but I was right about Mabel having to cross her parents bedroom, and bathroom to get to her room. I was also right about the bagels! 

It’s back to the scene in late 2021 where everybody is watching the end of Mabel’s movie, “Stabbing Bob”.  I guess she was trying to be a lil Tarintino. Why did I think they were watching the documentary? Ha, at the end, Paul’s sister asks the family if they want to go out for pie. Yesss, the pie scene!

I did remember this from the pilot episode where Jamie kisses Paul on their first date when he turns to her. Jamie asks “buy me some pie?”, not Paul! I swore for 20 years I heard Paul Reiser tearfully saying, “I would like some pie” in my head!

Oh, one plot point that did get patched up was that Paul & Jamie asked the guy from city hall to come over and marry them in their apartment six seconds to midnight.

RIP, Murray the dog.

UGH, I was right about the long montage of the end that is just pretend home movies of the cast. It’s nearly four minutes long, and its set to country music. It’s hell.  I remember actually leaving the room during this part 20 years ago instead of just you know, muting the TV. It completely ruins the quietness of the episode. It’s total filler.

The ending credits are on Youtube, it’s adult Mabel giving a rundown of what happened to who.

Related:

More from the series finale series: https://saleintothe90s.tumblr.com/search/Series%20finale%20series

/edit/

I was curious and went hunting around in google groups (which houses newsgroup archives) to see what people said about it online right after it aired: 

Someone wondered too about where on earth Mabel slept until they expanded the apartment: 

>2)  Where did Mabel sleep before they got the second apartment and >turned it into a room? Shared with mommy and daddy?? Or maybe that little space before the bedroom.  Did they convert the appartments into one or move to the other side? I was a bit confused about that.

>>I wish I had watched Ally (but that's just my

>opinion).<<

Trust me, if you've watched the show at all this season, you've seen this episode.  Ally is depressed about no man, elaine whips out the video camera, the biscuit bobs his head to Barry White, does a gymnastic dismount from the toilet stall, stutters like Porky Pig, and all of the same fucking things he does every single fucking episode.  I really liked this show at first, but I'm about to give up on it because the same shit happens week after week after week.  If David Kelley cannot think of anything new to do with this show, he should hire a writing team, because it it going nowhere fast!

Brian

To know that Paul and Jamie's genes resulted in that shrewish frump Janeane Garofalo was one thing.  But to be "previewed" twenty years of their misery resulting in Mabel's therapy for bad parenting was pretty unbearable.

Crap.  Not quite as crap as the Rosanne finale, but more crap than the last

Seinfeld episode. I knew they were in trouble in the very first scene where

they set up the premise for the episode. Lyle Lovett tells them that he

wasn't really an ordained minister when he performed their wedding ceremony

and that he was drunk when he said he was. (now there's an original plot)

One problem: Lyle isn't the one who told them he was a minister and everyone

was sober at the time.

Then they have Jannene Garofolo as their grown up daughter, recounting everything thing that went wrong in their marriage, another lame plot device.

There're also a few little slips, like Paul buying a double baby carriage in 2005, when their daughter would be 8 or so.

But, to get to the root of why the episode (and the last two seasons for that matter) failed: The whole permise of the show was that these two likable, but occasionally goofy or even stupid, people were so much in love that they would always be together no matter what. Corny, naive, romantic, but also endearing. It made for a nice, comforting 4 seasons or so, but after a while the formula gets old. So they started making the characters a lot less likeable. Paul Reiser turned into Homer Simpson and Helen Hunt became a neurotic version of Lucy Ricardo, until I had no idea why these two people were staying together.

They got back to the original idea of the series in the last ten minutes, but it was too little, too late. In the previous 50 minutes, their whole marriage went to hell. Not only didn't those two people belong together, they didn't even seem to care about each other. They did something similar a few years back (marriage goes wrong, they still love each other and stay together) but it was convincing and they didn't do the gimmicky jumping back and forth over 25 years thing. That was the perfect moment to end the series.

I agree. I watched with the series finale of MAY with the morbid fascination that I would have while watching a car wreck.  I didn’t *want* to do it, but I was drawn to it.  And what a car wreck it was.

The plot of the finale should have insulted every thinking person.  Did anyone accept the premise that two sophisticated New Yorkers could believe they were legally married without having a marriage license and certificate?  For those of you who have never been married, you absolutely need such documentation for your bank accounts, health insurance, social security, credit cards, mortgages etc.   The retroactive vitiation of the Buchman’s marriage is akin to the Bobby’s dream sequence on Dallas a few years ago.

Jaime’s jilting of Paul at the “altar” was vapid.  Tim Conway’s gag in being both the marriage clerk and the justice of the peace was predictable, and as predictably stupid as Conway’s similar gags on the now ancient Carol Burnett show.  The pronunciation of “Buchman” to explain why Paul and Jaime had the same last name may have been amusing to a ten year old, but I doubt it was funny to anyone more mature.  A justice of the peace would not play the wedding march with a dime store cassette recorder while demanding that a prospective bride walk down the courtroom “aisle.”  Couldn’t they have done something interesting with the marriage witness instead of using a stock character such as the disinterested, magazine-reading rice-thrower?  From a legal standpoint, Paul and Jaime’s marriage at midnight was as ineffective as “first” marriage because there was no witness (contrary to the dialogue, a baby simply cannot be a legal witness to a marriage).  Why would a justice of the peace make a house call to perform a civil marriage?

The whole vasectomy gag was asinine.  Have either HH or PR been in a hosptial?  Did they do *any* research before they wrote this gag?  Its pretty safe to conclude that a surgical nurse would *not* lead a post- operative vasectomy patient through a waiting room while he was wearing nothing but a robe.  Moreover, given Paul’s obvious pain from the first vasectomy, don’t you think that Jaime would have known that Paul did not go through with the second one?  Wouldn’t Jaime have asked Paul if he went through with the vasectomy before she purchased and used a pregnancy test kit?  Jaime’s miscarriage was telegraphed from the beginning of the vasectomy gag.

The makeup aging of the characters was amateurish at best.  The sex talk difficulty with Mabel has been done by every sitcom since Leave It To Beaver, and most have done it better.  What was the point of the puppy urination scene?

The breakup and reconciliation was sentimental tripe.  In the real world, people that fight as much as Paul and Jaime do not get divorced and then, with one magic kiss, make everything OK.

Was it necessary to introduce a new character in the finale to narrate the Buchmans’ life story? (As an aside, I hated the casting of Janeane Garofolo (sp?).  She looked like complete crap.  Can’t that woman ever look presentable?  Someone should have given her a mirror and a comb before they began filming the episode.  She is a second rate Roseanne knock off, and, judging from last night’s appearance, she is now attempting to catch Roseanne in the weight department as well.)

The closing montage attempted to simulate a home movie circa 1960s such as that used in the Wonder Years.  But why would Paul and Jaime, a 1990s couple, have used such a medium for their home movies?  Also, even assuming the choice of medium was justified, why did they wave in quick, jerky movements at the movie camera?  Has anyone done that since the 1960s?

In the end analysis, the MAY finale was incredibly lame.  I got home in time to catch the end of the Melrose Place finale, and, IMO, even that show -- as bad as it is -- has more entertainment value than MAY.  At least they don’t take themselves seriously.  I am delighted that MAY is now over.  I hope that the poor ratings associated with the show will cause some retooling at NBC, especially in its high profile slots.

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[calumbringbackthewatermelonshirt]

Shoot Your Shot [SoccerCal!AU]

Part 4! thanks for reading and feel free to send me your thoughts 

“Okay, so the party is tomorrow night. Tomorrow night is also when Cassidy gets back. That is not good.” Cal was sitting on the couch in Bia’s house next to Ash, typing away on his computer and muttering to himself. Cal knew that Cassidy was expecting him to pick her up from the airport, but he wasn't about to miss his best friend’s birthday party, the party he planned nonetheless. Cassidy would understand, though. She always did. Cal was excited nonetheless. Everything had come together beautifully, especially on the somewhat short notice. All of Bia’s friends had RSVPd, the cake was amazing, and best of all, all the decorations were completely set up already. Cal had swung by earlier in the day to look, and he was not disappointed. The gallery was absolutely flawless. The walls were completely white with intricate and perfectly executed works of art (of course, it being an art gallery). There were fairy lights strung all over the gallery, providing the perfect amount of lighting softly filtering down onto the standing tables with white cloths to go with the gallery. Cal and Sophie had even picked out a caterer to serve hors d'oeuvres and champagne (Cal still wasn’t exactly sure how hors d’oeuvres was pronounced, but nobody need to know that). The only thing that Cal was a little disappointed about was that Cassidy had pushed her flight to the night of the party instead of getting back today like she had originally planned. Cal had really wanted Cassidy and Bia to go dress shopping together, but Bia’s birthday would be perfect anyways.

“You’re damn right that’s not good. You better not be thinking of leaving Bia’s party to go pick up Cassidy from the airport.” While Ash was well aware of all the drama going down, he still wasn’t about to let Cal bail on his best friends’ twenty-first birthday party that he planed to pick up a girlfriend nobody liked.

“Look, I don’t like it either, but she’s my girlfriend. I think I kind of have to.” Cal shook his head and ran a hand through his tangled curls.

“Cal, you can’t even fucking drive. Just tell her you’re busy or something.” Ashton kept his stare pointed at his phone. Honestly, he didn’t feel like look at his friend at the moment. He wish he could tell Cal, warn him to savor every moment her got with Bia. Because, before Cal knew it, his friendship with her would be over.  

“Hey, guys.” Bia entered the room digging through her purse. She couldn’t find her keys, misplacing them due to everything on her mind. She then realized they had been in her hand the entire time she had been searching for them. Bia sighed internally, kicking herself for letting her life go to shit so fast. “So, listen, for tomorrow I was thinking we could just do something small. Maybe lunch with everyone?”

“Small? Who are you?” Ashton threw a confused glance at her. If there was one thing Bia loved more than partying, it was birthdays. Especially her birthday.

“Really? All you want is lunch for your birthday?” Cal figured she’d at least want to go for drinks. Still, if all they did was lunch, it would be easier to keep her party a secret.

“Yeah, I guess I just don’t feel like celebrating this year.” Bia inhaled deeply. She had realized last night that tomorrow would be her last birthday with Calum. It was funny, she thought, how much they took their past birthdays together for granted. Bia guessed she had thought they would have their whole lives together, and yet here she was, about to be alone at twenty-one. So, no,  she didn’t really feel like celebrating.

“Twenty-one years old and already tired of birthdays?” Cal wasn’t too worried about her lack of enthusiasm. When Bia saw his party, she would love birthdays once more. “That’s a little sad.”

Bia just mumbled “whatever” and stalked out the door. They were going to meet up with Sophie, Luke, and Michael at Sophie’s. It was a movie night, Luke’s pick. Bia was fine with that, though, she was always down to watch Mean Girls. When she, Ash, and Cal arrived, the other three members of their friend group were already building a pillow fort.

“Some tomfoolery is happening. I can feel it.” Bia called out while dropping her bag on the ground, a smile broad on her face. She rushed over to Sophie already laughing and helping to building on the fort.

Cal couldn’t help but smile, too. He hadn't seen her this happy in days, and he wondered why. Still, he pushed the thought from his mind. He and the group had planned this movie night to be a little different. Instead of just watching the movie and going their separate ways, the group would be spending the night at Sophie's, in order to start celebrating Bia’s birthday exactly when it began. Everyone had brought her favorite snacks and drinks, extra blankets and pillows. They were going to start her birthday off right.

Everyone settled down into the fort and started watching the movie, Mean Girls, just like Bia predicted. She cherished being surrounded by all the people she adored. Bia loved hearing Luke quote the movie during his favorite scenes, her and Michael trying and succeeding at throwing pieces of popcorn into each other’s mouths, Sophie crying at the end of the movie per usual, her and Ashton doing shots together to keep the night fun, but most of all, Bia loved hearing Calum giggle and smile at all their stupid shenanigans. This was all she had ever wanted, this was her happiness all together and in the same room. She closed her eyes and let the night imprint itself in her brain, painfully aware that soon it would come to an end. Still, she chose to let herself be happy, to let herself have one last day with her best friend. Ultimately, it would be more painful for both her and Cal in the end, but Bia allowed herself this one selfish act. So, she laid her head in his lap and closed her eyes. She couldn’t imagine a better start to her birthday. ||

The next morning, the group went out for breakfast at a small cafe, one of Bia’s favorites. The breakfast was full of happy talk and smiling faces. They were there for about an hour before Sophie caught Cal’s eye and nodded.

“Hey, Bia. Want to head to the mall? I saw this dress when I was there the other day and I want your opinion,” Sophie offered innocently. She and Bia had gone to the mall for a lot less, so Sophie wasn't surprised with her response.

“Sure. That sounds fun and besides, I could use a new pair of heels. Plus, I need to pick up a new mascara.” Bia ran through her shopping list in her head. A trip to the mall would actually be really convenient. “Anyone else care to join?”

The boys all shook their heads, so Bia and Sophie bid their goodbyes and headed to the mall. They sung and danced to music in the car ride there, the moments passing a little fast for their taste. Still, the mall was kind of their element. They navigated it expertly, wondering in and out of various stores. Bia had already picked up her new pair of heels when Sophie dragged her into a dress shop, known for its elaborate and elegant formalwear. Mainly, evening dresses.

“Here’s the one.” Sophie's fingers skimmed over an emerald tea-length dress with a high collar neckline. The solid fabric of the dress stopped and formed a sweetheart neckline, the high collar made up of the same lace that covered the entire back of the dress. The rest of it was plain satin.

“It’s beautiful.” Bia’s expression softened. She knew her friend would look absolutely gorgeous in the gown, but then again, Sophie looked good in anything.

“Fuck, I know. That’s it. I’m getting it. Now we need to find one for you.” Sophie took the dress off the rack and handed it to the nearest sales associate. Then she linked her arm with Bia’s. They browsed around for a few moments before something caught Bia eyes. towards the back of the store was the most stunning article of clothing she had ever seen. The dress had an a-line silhouette that, when she tried it on, hugged her body perfectly. Its neckline was a deep V, stopping right below the bottom of her breasts. The back was composed solely of the two spaghetti straps that held up the front of her dress. She loved everything about it, from the dusty powder blue shade it was, to the feel of the silk on her skin, even the way a small train formed behind her even with her heels.

“Wow,” Bia breathed, twirling in the mirror. This dress was exquisite, but Bia couldn’t justify buying it. She would never have a place to wear it. Still, it was seemingly made for her.

“Buy it. That dress, it’s just. You.” Sophie smiled, knowing full and well what was happening tonight.

“Well, ok.” Bia smiled. That was all the convincing she needed to buy her dress. She looked sexy as hell in it for fucks sakes. What other reason could she need? So, she splurged on the it, both her and Sophie walking out with designer dresses under their arms. They continued to browse about, until they realized what time it was.

“Shit. Shit! We’re late for lunch!” Bia cursed under her breath, disappointed that she would be late for the one thing she had asked to do to celebrate her birthday.

“Oh, fuck! C’mon. If we hurry, we can maybe make it with out being too, too late.” Sophie grabbed Bia’s arm and sprinted towards the entrance of the mall. Once they got into the car, they started laughing. Partially because of the fact that they were so out of breath and out of shape, and partially just for no reason. One look at each other and they were sent into a fresh round of laughter. This continued on for the majority of the ride to the restaurant. Bia had decided on a quaint Chinese place which was, unfortunately, a good distance from the mall. Bia and Sophie burst through the door of the restaurant half an hour after the time they were supposed to be there, still laughing their hearts out.

“It’s nice to know you two were having fun while you were standing up the rest of us.” Ash smiled. He was happy that Bia was enjoying her birthday. In Ash’s opinion, she could use a bit of happiness in her life.

“Sorry. We lost track of time at the mall.” Bia and Sophie took their seats at the round table, Bia next to Calum and Luke, and Sophie next to Michael and Ashton.

“Did you get anything good?” Cal turned his head to look Bia, the rings on his finger glinting as he stirred his tea.

“I bought a really pretty dress that I’ll probably never wear.” Bia gave the waitress her order and took a sip of her lemon water. She tucked her straightened hair behind her ears and bobbed her head to the music softly playing in the background a little. Bia was glad she had decided to let herself have one more day of happiness with Cal.

“How about tonight?” While Cal was still confused as to why Bia had been acting weird for the past few days, he was thankful that everything was back to normal for today. Still, he knew better than to ask her about her weird behavior on her birthday.

“Why?” As far as Bia knew, nothing was going on tonight. But, Bia was definitely not going to say no to an excuse to wear her fancy new dress.

“There’s a new exhibit at the art gallery downtown and I know you love that place. I figured we could check it out.” Cal hoped to God that Bia didn’t suspect anything. He had worked so hard to make this party perfect, and he did not want her to guess what was going down.

“Actually, yeah. I’ve been meaning to go check that out for a while now. It sounds perfect.” Bia smiled softly. Maybe this birthday wouldn't be so bad after all. The rest of the lunch was went by mostly the same, everyone chatting about nothing. At one point, Bia convinced Luke to let her french braid his hair, and she had to admit, Luke looked really cute with his hair done like that.

After a while, the group decided to go mini golfing to pass the time before the art exhibit. It took them a solid three hours to complete the course, but, to be fair, they got distracted really easily. At one point, Michael challenged Bia to a sword fight. They parried and jabbed until Bia accidentally backed Michael into the small stream running through the course getting him wet. Eventually, Bia won their mini golf tournament, beating Calum by a solid two points. Two points that were absolutely earned fairly and justly.

“All right. We’ll see you at the gallery around eight?” Cal limped alongside Bia. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when they surprised her tonight.

“Yeah. I'm really excited. Are you good hanging at my place alone for a while?” Bia was a little concerned about leaving Cal alone for a solid three hours.

“Yeah. I’m all good hanging at your place for a little while. Ash and Luke will probably keep me company for a while.” At the sight of Bia’s raised eyebrows, he laughed a little. “I know the rules, though Trust me, your apartment  will be fine.”||

_______________________________________________________________________

@marshmallowtraver @daniellesimagines @xx-cuddlemecalum-xx

[stayextrafrosty]

Did You Never Want to be Alone?

Request: Hi there! Could you do a Patrick x reader where the reader is on tour with them, maybe they're part of their stage crew? They work really closely with the boys, so Patrick notices when the readers mood takes a total nosedive becomes depressed. The cause of the mood change is totally up to you! I'm sitting over here struggling with Bi Polar depression and I need something that ends fluffy and happy from one of my favorite Tumblr writers!

This story changed like three times while I was writing it. I hope this is sort of what you were looking for! I apologize for taking so long to finish it. I had to work a lot. Thank you for your patience and support!

Warnings: mild depressive episode, abusive relationship

Pairing: Patrick x Reader

Words: 3180

-

“I told you that I wouldn’t be home for a while… I have offered to bring you with… well considering I’m in the middle of nowhere at a gas station I don’t think… Look, we’re leaving so I’ll have to call you later… Yea, you too… bye.” Patrick ran a hand through his hair.

I felt bad for the guy. His new girlfriend was controlling and got offended when he didn’t reply in two seconds. At this point, I’m surprised that she didn’t know it would be like this. She was dating the lead singer of Fall Out Boy.

Pete and I watched Patrick head into the small station, probably to buy food. He had said earlier he was craving cheddar pretzels or something. We shared a look before Pete spoke.

“I’ve already tried to convince him to break up with her. He’s convinced that she ‘likes him for him.’ Not true clearly. She’s a spoiled brat after the money and the fame.”

I’ve heard their arguments in the past, even had a front row seat for one. She was always asking why he didn’t talk about her or show her off.

I tried to explain to her that Patrick is a private guy and doesn’t want to get her mixed up in all of this but she wouldn’t listen. She would end every conversation with me by calling me a ‘jealous bitch.’ I really didn’t care for her. But Patrick was claiming to be happy and that’s all I wanted for him.

I’ve been friends with the guys for a while now. I met Joe by accident one day and we just really hit it off. That same day he introduced me to Pete and I just became part of their little road crew. I would help with putting up the set and making sure the guys got to rehearsal on time.

“They don’t even have the same music taste. Of course, I guess Patrick will listen to anything,” I laughed. Andy and Joe came over to join us when they saw us laughing.

“I never like being left out of a joke. Please share,” Joe said. Pete looked at me and gave me a motion to proceed.

“It’s not as much of a joke as it is noticing how little Patrick and that girl have in common,” I said, shrugging.

“Oh, she’s not that bad,” Andy started. We all just looked at him for a second before he started chuckling. I rolled my eyes at him.

“Hey, what are you guys laughing about?” Patrick came up to us holding a bag of cheddar pretzels. I hopped up and stole a few from his hand.

“Don’t worry about it Patrick.” He narrowed his eyes at us.

“Why do I feel like I was the butt of a joke?”

-

Another week of shows pass and before I knew it, we were headed towards the boy’s hometown of Chicago. I never had the chance to visit before now. It was always too much money and I didn’t have a friend to go with me.

I sat on the couch between Pete and Patrick. I decided to ride with them for the last part off the trip. We were currently in the middle of watching “Alien” director’s cut. We were having a great time.

“They are so stupid! Everyone knows that you never go off on your own! Especially if there’s a fucking alien on board,” I said to the tv. Pete laughed at me.

“Well it wouldn’t be much of a horror movie if no one died,” he said.

“True, but I bet the movie would be scarier if the humans did everything right and still died. That’s the point of the Alien. It’s the perfect organism,” Patrick said.

“Exactly,” I agreed.

-

The movie was almost over by the time we pulled into the hotel parking lot. Pete hurried off the bus to use the bathroom or something, leaving Patrick and I to finish the movie by ourselves. There were only ten minutes or so left.

It was late and I almost fell asleep a couple times. I at some point shifted to resting against Patrick’s shoulder with his arm partially around me. He was nice to cuddle with honestly. He was soft and just generally loveable. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw a text from Pete.

If you and Patrick are still cuddling, I suggest you stop. Incoming girlfriend.

Too late. My phone wasn’t getting good service and I heard the witch climbing onto the bus. Her heels were unmistakable.

“Um, what the fuck are you doing?” I jumped away from Patrick, trying to stand but I tripped and fell, hitting my arm on the small coffee table.

“(Y/N), are you ok,” Patrick asked in a hurry. He crouched down next to me, checking me over. There was a scratch on my arm and it was bleeding. Not too badly but it still hurt.

“Are you seriously just going to ignore me?” She stomped over to us. “Besides, why was your arm around her? Clearly it wasn’t nothing,” she sneered. Patrick’s cheeks were dusted with pink. He stood to face her.

“Look, babe. It’s not that serious. She’s a good friend. Like a sister to me. I enjoy her company. You know you’re my number one,” he said, giving a sorry smile. Her heels made her taller than him so when he pulled her close to kiss her cheek, she had to lean down.

I stood up on my own. I hated watching them. It was obvious to everyone except him that she was awful. I made my way around them. The witch shot me a dirty look as her and Patrick embraced. I glared right back at her and hurried off the bus.

I hated her. I didn’t just hate the way they looked. She treats him like an object. Something that she owns. She always accused him of cheating even though he would never even consider it. He keeps claiming to be happy, but I just don’t believe him.

I collected my room key from James, one of the managers for the tour. I grabbed my bag and headed up to my room by myself. The elevator was slow and we were on the sixth floor.

Patrick and I were friends. Good friends. I was like a sister to him. I’m not jealous of her. I just know that Patrick deserves better. I’m not jealous. I don’t like him like that. He’s like a brother.

But I wish we were more…

I shook my head. No. I don’t wish that. Stupid thoughts. I wish they would just shut up sometimes. The elevator door pinged and opened. Pete and Joe stood on the other side. I smiled at them as I stepped off.

“So, did you get caught by the wicked witch,” Pete asked with a chuckle?

“Yea. She was not happy. Scared the crap out of me. I tripped on the table and cut my arm a bit. No biggie. She was very offended that Patrick tried to help me though.” I tried to sound nonchalant. If either of them noticed something, they didn’t mention it.

“Well, we’re going to find Andy so he can lay down some ground rules for Patrick and his girlfriend. They’re sharing a room this time. I know he likes to get to sleep at a reasonable time so she won’t be staying long.” I laughed at Joe’s comment.

“Yea well, I’m probably going to get some rest. I trust that you guys will take me sightseeing tomorrow?” They laughed and agreed. We said good night and went our separate ways.

-

Patrick sat at the bar with his girlfriend. She was going on and on about some other celebrity drama between whoever. Patrick wasn’t really sure. He would nod and laugh at the appropriate times and this girl didn’t even seem to notice he was distracted.

He knew what the others thought of her. They weren’t very subtle about it. He would always defend her and his decision to date her but it was becoming more difficult to do that. She would be mean and rude to the guys and (Y/N) right in front of him. She would always say that it’s just a joke but he wasn’t so sure. (Y/N) hasn’t given him her opinion and that was really the only one he cared about.

The only thing she would ask about was if he was happy. And for a while he would say yes and then she would drop it. He knew that she was a good judge of character. But something was off earlier today. She looked at him differently. As if she was silently asking, ‘are you really happy?’

I’d be happier with you…

He never wanted to admit it. He knew this relationship was shallow. He finally figured out that the girl sitting next to him really didn’t care. Patrick glanced at her. She swirled her cocktail and was still talking. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This caused her to finally pay attention to him. But not the good kind.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Patrick was zoned out. He didn’t even think when he spoke.

“Not really no. This stuff isn’t really interesting to me and it’s all you talk about.” Patrick blinked a few times and finally focused on her face. Her mouth hung open slightly.

“Excuse me?” He watched as her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. Well. No going back now. He knew it was probably for the best anyway.

“Look. We don’t really have anything in common. You don’t seem to like me being on the road so much. You’re mean to my friends. You constantly accuse me of things and it makes no sense why. I think we would be better apart.” Her face twisted in anger. Had she never been dumped before?

“It’s because of that little bitch, isn’t it? The one you decided to get all cuddly with?” Patrick shook his head.

“This has nothing to do with her. And don’t ever call her that. She’s a better person than you could ever be,” he said. She stood from the barstool in a huff.

“You are making the biggest mistake of your life.” Patrick shrugged.

“I am unlikely to ever regret this.” Her hand hit his face with a sickening smack. Patrick’s glasses fell off his face but he caught them. She stormed out of the bar. Patrick’s face stung. He was sure there was a mark.

“Dude, are you alright? What happened?” Pete showed up in front of him, looking worried.

“Well… I broke up with her. Sorry I didn’t realize she was awful sooner,” he said, putting his glasses back on. Joe and Andy stood behind Pete.

“You don’t need to apologize to us. Take your red face and go apologize to (Y/N). There was something very off. Whatever happened on the bus seriously upset her,” Joe said.

“Yea, she was trying to hide it. You seem to be able to get her to talk. More than the rest of us,” Pete added. Patrick looked at the three guys and nodded. He knew something was off the second his now ex walked onto the bus. Now he had to fix it.

-

After I had settled everything into my lonely room, I decided to spend some time on the roof. It was one of the few places that kept me calm.

I usually roomed with one of the only other girls on the stage crew, Anna but she had to go home for a family emergency. She was also the person I would vent to if I was feeling depressed. I try to not bother the guys with this too much. Mostly because they have their own stuff to worry about.

I didn’t even know why seeing Patrick with his girlfriend bothered me so much this time. It never did before. Maybe it was because she made him act against his nature to help those in need. She made him feel like crap for wanting to help me. What kind of person does that?

I pushed the door open to the roof. The wind blew my hair away from my face and I pulled my jacket tighter around me. I could see the lights of Downtown Chicago. It had such a different feel than any other city. Of course, so did New York and Los Angeles and Las Vegas.

Some rooftops had benches or something to sit on but this one didn’t. The door itself was hard to open so not too many people came up here. I walked over to the wall surrounding the top of the building. I suppose to stop people from jumping off. I looked over the edge and down to the bushes.

I’ve never really considered jumping. It seemed pointless to do so. Who knows. Life could be much worse. I just wish that I didn’t get triggered by some new feelings for a guy that I had thought of as a friend for so long. Him and his bitch of a girlfriend. I hopped up on the edge and laid down. The city lights were too bright to see the stars but the stone under my back was cool and relaxing.

I heard the door to the roof open and I turned my head to see who it was. I recognized Patrick’s figure. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked toward me. My heart started to ache. Damnit, not now.

“Hey, how’s your arm?” He looked out at the skyline as he spoke. I had wrapped some bandages around it and it didn’t hurt anymore.

“I’m fine. No big deal.” Silence. This was weird. Patrick and I didn’t do awkward silences. We were too close.

“I’m surprised your girlfriend let you come up here by yourself,” I tried to joke. I leaned my head back to look at his face. His head was in his hands. I sat up so I could see him better.

“I broke up with her.” My eyes widened. I jumped off the ledge and went to hug him. I know he liked her, even if the rest of us didn’t. He turned toward me and I noticed a large red spot on the side of his face. It wasn’t from the cold. I was going to kill her.

“Patrick. Tell me that’s not what I think it is,” I said. I took his face gently and turned his head so I could see it better. It was unmistakably a handprint.

“She didn’t exactly take the whole breaking up thing well.” Patrick laughed a bit but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. He hugged me back.

“I’m so sorry. I should have ended it so long ago. I should have helped you earlier today. I should have done so many things differently.” Why was he saying sorry? I didn’t blame him.

“Patrick…” I started to say but he grabbed my shoulders, pushing me just far enough away so he could look at me.

“No. Let me say this. I owe you a million apologies. I know she was a bitch. And I let her stick around anyway. That makes me a dick. I let someone hurt you and didn’t do a damn thing about it. You don’t deserve that. And I don’t deserve to have you as a friend. I’m so sorry. I will beg for your forgiveness forever.” I took his hands from my shoulders and held them.

“Patrick. I forgive you. And to me, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re just a guy who thought he loved a girl.” His eyes searched my face.

“I didn’t love her. I guess I was just tired of being alone.”

“You’re not alone Patrick. You have the guys.”

“I guess I kind of mean more in a romantic sense. Or a companion,” He said softly. I didn’t process what came out of my mouth after that.

“Well then you have me.”

Silence. I could feel my cheeks warm slightly. I hadn’t meant to say that.

Way to go… now you just look desperate.

I pulled away from him quickly and started towards the door. Not even going to deal with this right now. I fucked it up. We were friends and I fucked it up. I didn’t make it very far before he grabbed my arm.

“Now hold on. Talk to me. What are you thinking?” I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t want to see the rejection.

“Not like there’s much left to say,” I mumbled. I opened a box that I shouldn’t have.

“Is this what’s been bothering you,” he asked? He tried to make me turn to face him but I yanked my arm away and made a dash for the door. If the stupid thing wasn’t so old and heavy, I would have gotten away.

Patrick trapped me against the door, forcing me to face him. I kept my face turned away. I spoke to him softly.

“Now you know. This is what’s been bothering me but it shouldn’t be. We’re friends. You don’t like me like that anyway. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to screw this up.”

Patrick slowly released my arms and his hands moved to hold my face. He was warm and gentle and I couldn’t help but follow his lead. His eyes were bright and hopeful but also nervous.

“As far as I can tell, you didn’t screw this up.” I rolled my eyes at him. He spoke again, quieter this time, “Can I kiss you? Then we can decide together.” I sucked in a quick breath, my eyes flicking down to his lips for a moment. His face inched closer to mine, giving me the option to back away.

Well, if I already messed it up, may as well make it spectacular.

I met him halfway. His lips soft and sweet on mine. I wanted to melt into him. Holy hell, he was an amazing kisser. I felt our tongues brush against each other a couple times but he never pushed me. He pulled away from me a few seconds later. I opened my eyes so I could try to read his face.

“Woah…” he said under his breath. I was thinking the exact same thing. I watched as a smile spread over his face and I couldn’t help but grin back.

“I don’t know about you, but that didn’t feel like anything was messed up.” I shook my head and giggled.

“You’re right. Honestly, it’s better than before.” He kissed me gently once again before pulling me into a hug.

“Ya know something? I think it was always you that I loved. I never feel alone with you,” Patrick said. I smiled and snuggled closer to him.

“That’s why I told you that you have me. You’ll always have me.”

[artificialqueens]

Supersonic; Work Of Art (Shalaska) - shadyqueenie

A/N: Hi honeys! I know I said “see you at the end of November!1!!”, but I’m really getting bored here in Nagano-shi and I suffered a lot the jet-lag.

With this one-shot I went outside my comfort zone for two main reasons – first of all, it’s a Shalaska (💕✨) and second, there’s a small (small, small, extra small) smut scene. (Aaaaand I’m not going to do that again for a long time.) Bla, bla, bla, English is not my first language, bla, bla, bla sorry for grammar mistakes and so on. Kisses! Your Duh, Shady✨

“Work of Art” is part of the Supersonic Collection [Those one-shots are slightly connected with each-other, you can read them here . The common thread is the fact that almost everyone works at Vanguard Magazine, an important fashion magazine.] Alaska is Trinity’s personal assistant. She knows she doesn’t belong at Vanguard Magazine, but she tries her best because if you work there for a year then you can work wherever you want. So she wears pink haute couture dresses and does everything Trinity asks her. But Alaska is lonely at work, and declines every invitation from her colleagues. Because Vanguard’s Alaska is not the real Alaska.

SUPERSONIC – WORK OF ART

“Alaska?” Trinity Taylor’s voice sounded metallic and sassy through the intercom “Can you please come back to my office?” The blonde girl sighed, looking at her lunch box. She longed for her homemade egg fried rice since that morning – and her boss was ruining that precious moment. And why the hell was Trinity calling her through the intercom if the only thing that separated them was a glass wall?! She screamed every day, 24/7, but she had to play the bitch role with her through an intercom. Alaska shrugged, looked at her reflection in the mirror in her desk and checked if her ponytail was still up and tight (and of course it was) and headed towards her boss’s studio. “What is it?” she asked as she approached the door. She put on her face the brightest of her smiles, but something in the way Trinity was looking at her lunch made Alaska think that she’s going to scream in a minute. “I should be the one who asks question – what is it?” she asked, pointing at her bowl. “It’s the acai bowl you asked…?” “I asked for an acai bowl with tropical fruits” she lifted the spoon “Since when a raspberry is a tropical fruit?” Alaska tried her best not to insult her. Mangos, raspberries… who cares? Probably she was going to threw them up within a handful of minutes “The cafeteria run out of tropical fruits and I thought that berries were- “ “Well, my dear Alaska, I don’t pay you to think. I pay you to get me an acai bowl with tropical fruits” Trinity raised an eyebrow resentfully and pushed the bowl away from her sight “I’m done with lunch today” she sentenced. The clicking of Alaska’s heels sounded really loud as she approached Trinity’s desk and took with her the bowl. She dared to raise another smile but Trinity wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. Trinity made Alaska sighing at least twenty times per day. “What a fucking waste” she breathed as she threw the bowl.

Alaska paid a shit-ton of money for the art school and she was regretting it. In her college days she wanted to write about her fashion sense and art and a bunch of shits for a magazine. She didn’t care for what magazine – just an important one with a budget high enough to pay for her journeys. Almost everyone in her class wanted the internship at Vanguard Magazine, but in the end Alaska and her straight A’s won – and she didn’t even ask that place. “It’s a great opportunity, Miss” her professor said pleased “a year in Vanguard Magazine and then the world” she joked. When the internship ended, Trinity was so pleased about Alaska’s work that offered her a place as her personal assistant “My last assistant was dumber than lobster bait and spent her time counting calories. But you are naturally extremely skinny, don’t you?” Trinity smiled at Alaska’s nod “The paycheck is good, and the work room is full of those pastel dresses you like so much that you can have” added Trinity, emphasizing the words ‘pastel dresses’ with a disgusted tone. Alaska smiled as she stretched her dress’s folds. Yes, she wanted to be a journalist. She wanted to write about art and fashion and a bunch of shits. But a bunch of shits don’t pay the rent “All the dresses I want?” she tried. “As long as you don’t raid Bianca’s atelier” it was the first (and apparently last) time that Alaska heard a joke from Trinity “You will always stand by my side. Which means that if you look ugly, I’ll tell you and I will make you change and-” “I’m in” Alaska cut off the conversation. Alaska saw the same pleased smile that her professor had months ago in Trinity’s face. From that moment on, Alaska filled her wardrobe with expensive dresses and her mind with stylists’ names. She was about to finally starting eating when Detox’s assistant showed up “Are you busy tonight?” asked at point-blank range. Alaska looked at her for a full minute before replying. That woman looked bored. Of course she was bored – being the assistant of someone who clearly doesn’t need an assistant must have been stressful. As much as having three x in her own name. “Emh…” whimpered Alaska, trying to buying time “Yes. Yes, I’m sorry – but I already have something scheduled.” Roxxxy sighed while she tucking her hair behind the ears “Ok Alaska, I’ll try to make it clear. * I know you started working here recently, and so you might be a bit intimidated. But you can’t turn down all our invitations. We, all of us, are trying to be your friends” she pointed out “We – the assistants – have to group together, support each other. Otherwise working here will be like working in hell” Alaska looked up – to her, Vanguard was hell already “I know and I’m so, so sorry. But really, I can’t tonight. Maybe next week?” Alaska tried her best to look apologetic, but Roxxxy didn’t seem the kind of woman who takes a pity – especially because Alaska said the same thing a week before. And the week before that. “Sure” she answered before leaving. The blonde breathed a sigh of relief and finally she could focus on her meal. Not that she thought that Roxxxy and her clique were bad people – well, maybe they were, deep down she didn’t even know them. But she wasn’t interested in making new friends. She was well aware of the existence of the ‘assistants’ clique’, in which Roxxxy Andrews played Queen Bee’s role – but to Alaska’s ears sounded like the dumbest thing in the world. They weren’t in high school anymore.

Alaska was really careful not mixing her career life with her private one. Her work at Vanguard Magazine would have lasted for a year, maybe two. She didn’t want to be involved in that world made of excessively expensive dresses and calories reduced at bare minimum. She didn’t want to be subsumed in that crazy world, she was in it enough for her own tastes.   So Alaska built up a character – she needed an armor to protect herself. Always dressed in pink tones (which she chose because she knew Trinity absolutely hated that color), always extremely efficient but at the same time extremely lonely. A nerdy Barbie. Alaska often joked with her friends about how that job was more like an acting game to her, but her longtime friend Jinkx could tell Alaska was always stressed as hell, and now and then asked her why she accepted that job in first place. Alaska has never really had a proper answer to her – she didn’t want to reply with the truth.   Everything she knew was that she needed that job to be someone in the future. That’s what she was (always) thinking about – the future Alaska. And it didn’t matter if present Alaska has to work for the place she deposited the most, wearing hideous dresses and swallow some bitter pills. The only thing she could (at least) do was being disagreeable, so no one would have talked to her – and she was being successful, apart from the continuous Roxxxy’s invitations.  

After leaving work at 6p.m., Alaska stopped at the restaurant in front of her house and bought a takeaway curry udon bowl. For a moment she thought about scolding herself – she was definitely too much into oriental food, but then she remembered one of the reasons Trinity hired her. She was naturally skinny, she can have rice for lunch and udon for dinner and still looking freakishly gorgeous. Or at least freakishly skinny.  Suck it, assistants’ clique. With the bowl in her hands she crossed the street and entered her house’s building. She didn’t lie to Roxxxy – she had something scheduled for the night. Even if that meant eating everything she could find in the pantry and watching late night trash TV’s programs. As she put the key in her flat’s door, she heard a feeble meow from the other side “Ehy, Hairspray” Alaska smiled as soon as a little black fur ball came to cuddle against her legs “Are you ready for our night?” She put the udon bowl on the table and picked up the kitten, who replied at her affection by purring. The first thing she did when she entered her bedroom was throwing ungracefully away her shoes and bag (and by doing that gesture she imagined Bianca shouting “They’re MiuMiu, you ungrateful cunt!”) and finally Vanguard Magazine’s Alaska got replaced by the real Alaska. Yes, because Trinity wasn’t the only one who hated the pink color. While Vanguard Alaska loved pink and tight buns, the real Alaska loved the color black and messy big hair. At work she was quiet, polished – almost unremarkable, but deep down Alaska loved attending concerts dressed in nothing but a bra and a cut-off jeans and hopefully flirting with one of the band member (in which she often didn’t succeed, though). She enjoyed drinking cold beers and watching horror movies. And art, of course. She was, basically, an outsider – a freak. The real Alaska was someone the girls at Vanguard could easily made jokes about, like the ‘cool people’ did during her high school years – that’s why she didn’t want them to know her. After all, as she repeated herself every morning before leaving her flat “It’s just a year”

She was watching without putting too much attention a stupid reality on TV while eating her udon bowl. A bit of curry sauce fell into the sofa and Hairspray tried to lick it “No, no, no, no” Alaska scold him. She was going to go back to eat when the phone notified a new message incoming, which made Hairspray hissing “Calm down tiger – it’s just the phone” smiled Alaska, looking at the message. [Jinkxy 🔮✨, 8.12p.m.] Girl. What are you doing tonight? Alaska typed “Chocking to death” but she didn’t want to sound that melodramatic. So she cancelled the message and replaced it with a vague ‘Nothing’. [Jinkxy🔮✨, 8.14p.m.] Ivy and I are going to a vernissage in Williamsburg. Wanna join? She blew air out of her cheeks. She was already in her pajama, but she had a terrible day at work and really wanted to see her Jinkxy again. Alaska looked at her kitten “What would you do in my place, Hairspray?” she asked, hoping for a reply – but the cat just licked his paws “Sure” she rolled her eyes. Her phone rang again. [Jinkxy 🔮✨, 8.17p.m.] Come on, free booze and art… isn’t that so Alaska?!

An hour later Alaska reached for the couple. It didn’t take long for her to get ready – usually she just wore the first things that came out from the wardrobe, and every time she managed to make them work. The taxi left her in front of a former factory. Alaska rolled her eyes – reusing an abandoned factory for a vernissage? How original. At the entrance, the black sing with silver letters featured a single word. Needles. Her mind was elaborating a witty comment about that name’s choice, but her attention got caught by her friend’s voice “Lasky!” Alaska walked towards them with her arm crossed in her chest, the cold breeze made her legs shaking – November in NYC wasn’t suit for short leather skirt. “It’s so intriguing, isn’t it?” asked Ivy with a smile, referring to the event. Ivy was so optimistic and pure and genuine that gave Alaska cavities. Plus, she truly believed Alaska was a really talented art critic – and always asked what her impressions were. Flattering, but annoying. “Let me guess… New Gothic art?” asked ironically Alaska. She didn’t want to sound bored, but since she saw Ivy’s expression falling she added “I think it’s great!” The blonde watched her friends heading towards the building. She despised that kind of art since the day she studied it in her college years. But a lot of her friends thought she was into those gothic arts – wearing black dresses didn’t help that much, though. She sighed and followed them. The room was extremely big – even if the paints were enormous, they kind of disappeared framed to the wall. She instantly grabbed a glass of Prosecco and walked towards the paints. “Weber” she said softly after looking closer at a couple of them. “What?” “Nothing” Alaska shrugged “Those paints remind me of an artist I studied at school” she explained, tossing the glass in her hand. “Easy, girl!” joked Jinkx. “Round two?” Alaska asked ignored her friend. She couldn’t like the paintings, but she could get drunk at the expense of this Needles. Jinkx smiled softly – she always gave Alaska that condescending smile that made her feel very little “Stay. I’ll go” she offered after few seconds. Ivy excused herself soon after “I’m going to powder my nose” she said playfully. And Alaska was left alone. Alaska stayed still in front of a paint. They were all black, or white – some of them had a splash of burgundy paint but that was all. Maybe they weren’t that bad but God, she hated New Goth art so much. As if those artists didn’t have enough creativity to produce something new.   “What to you think?” asked a voice behind her. At first Alaska jumped at the voice “Well,” she started with her usual slowness “What can I say? It is clear to me the tribute to Marnie Weber’s collages – even if those ones are darker and more decadent. Maybe a bit too pushed, I’d say. But what concerns me (yes, concerns) is the artist’s name. What kind of stage name is ‘Needles’? it’s pretentious as fuck. I bet if we’d ask him some explanations he’d talk our ear off about Sid Vicious and Sex Pistols. Like, we get it – you’re a punk/Goth/rebel and so on. Relax kid, your name is as anonymous as your works” she threw all those words up as alcohol after a shots’ night. The feminine and high voice behind her laughed out loud “I bet you’re right. I thought I was the only one that saw something about Weber inside there – yet I was wrong.” Alaska turned around and for the first time and saw to whom that voice belonged. She was a woman with extremely harsh features, her hair was half white and half black – like Cruella de Vil. And yet, throughout it all (that dark attitude, her thin figure and that strange hair), Alaska found her extremely beautiful. “Hi” she found herself babbling. “Hi, I’m Sharon” said the other holding out her hand. Her smile reminded a grin. “Alaska” replied the blonde, shaking that thin hand weakly. Trinity scolded her a million times for how Alaska shook hands “a strong shake means confidence” her boss always repeated her – but in that moment Alaska could barely remember how people do shake hands. “So, Alaska – would you like to keep on talking about it?”

Jinkx was coming back with two glasses of Prosecco, when she saw her friend talking with someone she has never seen before. “Who is she?” whispered Ivy in Jinkx’s ear, as curious as her friend. The redhead shrugged “I don’t know” admitted as she and gave Ivy the glass that was meant to be Alaska’s “Hopefully we’ll see Alaska again at the end of the night”

The conversation between Alaska and Sharon went ahead and their constant chat disturbed people in the room whose (in Alaska’s surprised) seemed to really like the paintings. So they moved towards the balcony, not until they got a new glass of Prosecco. Alaska played her fingers on the lip of the glass, waiting for Sharon to speak again. “So, what do you do for living?” Sharon finally asked. For a moment Alaska thought about lying to her. She could set a stupid lie like “I’m a salesgirl at American Apparel” and everyone would have bought it, but eventually she went for the truth “I work at Vanguard Magazine” “The one full of anorexic models?” “Yes, exactly” Alaska gave up defending the magazine month’s ago. Whenever someone made jokes about how skinny and sick their models were Alaska just nodded. She didn’t care. “And you?” Sharon smiled as she took a sip of Prosecco “Let’s say I work in the field of art” “You’re so lucky” said Alaska recklessly looking at the city lights in front of her. “Ehy, your job is about art too” said Sharon quickly as she catches Alaska’s glance “I do really believe that fashion is an art” added. Alaska sighed. Maybe Bianca and her clothes were doing art. Maybe Detox and her team. But booking Trinity’s appointments and bringing her lunch wasn’t so artsy “Today my boss scolded me because in her lunch – an acai bowl, which I find disgusting – there were berries and not tropical fruits. Where’s the artistic part in all of this?!”   “Quit your job then” said out of the blue Sharon. It was so obvious to her she couldn’t believe Alaska hasn’t thought about it yet. “A year there and then I can work wherever I want” it was the first time that Alaska repeated her mantra to someone else – someone who wasn’t her kitten Hairspray. Maybe because talking about her problems to a stranger was easier than to Jinkx – that’s why people go to psychologists. Sharon realized she hit a nerve and soften her tones “I’m sure you are full of potential, and that you don’t need to spend a year at Vanguard if this makes you sad. In a way or another you’ll succeed, and you’ll get your dream job” she said, pinching softly one of Alaska’s cheek. “Do you believe it?” the blonde shivered at the gesture, and shivered even more when Sharon’s hand moved from her cheek to her bicep, stroking it gently. It was a new, strange feeling. She couldn’t believe the absurdity of the situation – a stranger was comforting her. A stranger that was definitely turning her on. “I know it” Sharon reassured her “You should have heard yourself talking about Marnie Weber and those works. You’re passionate, brilliant and smart. That’s what you are – you just have to fight for what you really want” Alaska really wanted to believe Sharon and not being scared about her future anymore. Being Alaska wasn’t easy – since the day she entered college her life was focused on finding the perfect job and feeling realized. Few friends, almost no relationships and an inexistent social life – she sacrificed her youth for something she didn’t know yet. But in that moment Alaska couldn’t care less about her future, her job, Vanguard or some stupid acai bowl. If there was something she would have fought for in that moment, then that thing was kissing Sharon’s lips painted in black. Her head was filled with questions – kissing a woman? She has never kissed a woman before… will she answer the kiss? What if she’ll reject her and scream? Screw that, Alaska kissed her. It was, by far, the most awkward kiss she has ever had. Because it took a moment for Sharon to answer the kiss, but when she did it Alaska felt her body relax. Literally – she feel into her arms. Sharon tasted like Prosecco and toasted tobacco, even if she didn’t smoke. While Alaska wrapped her arms around Sharon’s angular shoulders, she wondered if she tasted like Prosecco too. “Come with me” whispered Sharon against her lips, leading her back inside. Alaska followed her dutifully.

Alaska found herself trapped between the sink and Sharon’s body. She didn’t even realize they were in the toilet room until she looked away from Sharon’s body, when the latter turned to lock the door. She couldn’t help but stare at the other woman’s back throughout all the way to the toilet – as if everything around her went blur.   As Sharon went back and kissed the blonde deeply, Alaska let out a loud moan. “Quiet” whispered Sharon, closing Alaska’s mouth with her hand “The exhibition is just at the other side of this door” and then she made Alaska sitting on the sink. Sharon didn’t even need to pull Alaska’s dress off, since she wore a ridiculously short leather skirt and no thights (which she thought it was such a brave choice). Without wasting a single moment, Sharon hooked her fingers to Alaska’s panties and pulled them down “Classy” she commented ironically, with Alaska’s pair of red lace panties intertwined in her fingers. The blonde grunted and rested her head against the mirror, breathing heavily as Sharon’s hands moved again towards her thighs, spreading her legs. Usually those kind of things happened on second-rate romantic movies – thought Alaska – the ones in which the protagonist has a one-night stand with a stranger at the very beginning of the film. Those kind of things usually don’t happen to someone like Alaska. She smiled at her own bravado. The last thing Alaska saw before closing her eyes again was Sharon making her way down her body. Sharon was impatient and in a handful of seconds she was licking the other’s girl clit roughly. When she started sucking too, Alaska had to cover her mouth and biting her lips to avoid screaming in pleasure. She was extremely disappointed as she felt Sharon’s mouth pushing away from her. Was she doing something wrong? Was she annoyed by her moans? Alaska opened her eyes and saw Sharon staring back at her, with an evil grin printed on her face.  Definitely Sharon was enjoying it as much as Alaska “Relax, ok? You’re strung tight as a violin” she whispered as she could read her mind. Without a further word, Sharon substituted her mouth on Alaska’s clit with her fingers. She kissed and bite and sucked Alaska’s inner thighs, without taking her eyes off the other girl, who was now placing her legs over Sharon’s shoulders. The blonde’s skin burned under Sharon’s touch. Without any doubts she was leaving marks on her. “S-Sharon… I’m-” Alaska couldn’t add anything else because Sharon inserted a finger in her “Is that what you wanted?” asked panting. Alaska’s moan muffled by her hand was the answer Sharon needed to ear, as she putted other two fingers and moved them inside her partner. Alaska’s body was shaking and Sharon knew she was close, so she thrust more quickly. And she was so, so right – Alaska had to bite one of her hands when she came, the other one rested helplessly on Sharon’s head.

Sharon pulled herself away from Alaska’s body and looked at her own reflection in the mirror, trying to fix her lipstick “I think that those ones belongs to you” she said playfully, giving Alaska her panties back. Alaska’s glance was still on the floor while she wore them again. As her bravado faded away, her cheeks were so red she thought that they would catch on fire. She has never done something like that before. She wasn’t that kind of girl. All that embarrassment didn’t allow her to see what Sharon was taking out from her bra. “By the way” started the latter, giving her a black business card “Marnie Weber’s influence is obvious because she’s the artist I grew up with. Artistically speaking, I mean. Black is a stylistic choice. I don’t look for decadence, it just helps building up a character. And seeing your heavy eye-liner line I’d say it works for you too. Oh, and Needles is really my surname – even if I have to admit I really like Sid Vicious and the Sex Pistols.” Sharon said all of that very slowly, as she previously absorbed Alaska’s cadence, and she seemed to enjoy every single word that left her mouth. On the contrary, Alaska felt the ground beneath her fallen away. Needles, the extra pretentious and dark artist wasn’t a man, but the woman with whom she just had a rendezvous. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She tried to get a word in edgewise but Sharon spoke first “I have to go, you know – I was trying to sell some paintings before a certain blonde here focused all my attention. But in the card I gave you there’s my gallery’s address written – come over when you’re feeling like you want to verbally destroying my work again” and after winking she disappeared. For all that time Alaska’s mouth was wide open – as if she got caught in the act. Well, she was really caught in the act. She waited two minutes before exiting the room. “Here you are!” Jinkx reached her out immediately “I saw you with that spooky girl and the next moment you disappeared! Where the hell have you been?” Before replying, Alaska looked around “Sorry,” she whispered still shocked “I didn’t fell well” Jinkx’s glance was painted with concern “Oh sweetheart, your cheeks are so red… Do you feel like you have fever?” asked, touching her forehead. The blonde shook her head “I think it’s just this place… it’s extremely hot in here! I’ll just hail a taxi and go home” “Are you sure?” asked her friend again, stroking softly her cheek. Jinkx knew how to be so sickly sweet. Not even Alaska’s mother has ever given her so many attentions – and Jinkx wasn’t about to give up “Ivy and I are going to a club… are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Alaska nodded. She needed her home, a hot shower and some cuddles from Hairspray.

Alaska spent the night with her face buried in her hands because of her gaffe. As she entered the taxi she put the black business card with address, email and site written in silver letters inside her wallet. Sooner or later she would have to write to Sharon, or come over her gallery, and she would have to say sorry. That situation also confirmed her biggest fear – she wasn’t ready to write about art. She didn’t even know artists’ faces. Next to her, the kitten slept peacefully. Alaska faced him and stroked gently his fur “My dear Hairspray, we’re going to die alone. Alone and at Vanguard”

The next morning, she arrived at her workplace an hour earlier. She put the most hideous pink tulle dress Bianca gave her and rushed towards the cafeteria. Not even her giant white-framed sunglasses could have covered her dark circles. As she went to the cafeteria and opened her wallet for paying her dark coffee, she noticed the black business card among the receipts. She was bored and she had a spare hour – she decided it was the perfect time to look at Sharon’s works. Alaska came back to her desk and turned her computer on. She ignored all the mails and the notifications from social media and typed Sharon’s website link. For every painting that scrolled down she let out a sigh. Unfortunately, Alaska still didn’t like the New Gothic art – though she started appreciating some of its features. “And what’s this?” Alaska didn’t even heard Trinity as she arrived. Why people loved talking behind her?! “it’s nothing, it’s just…” she tried to justify herself, but Trinity – as always – talked over her “Oh my God. One of those paintings could be the perfect gift for my goddaughter’s birthday. You know, she’s in that phase of every teenager’s life in which she’s obsessed with vampires and all those soft porn bullshits” Alaska imagined a little Trinity reading Fifty Shades of Grey, and did her best not to laugh. “Go to the gallery of this… Needles? – well, what a strange name, – and buy the most gothic paint you can find” stated Trinity, giving Alaska’s her wallet “There’s the checkbook inside. Any price will be fine” Alaska gasped “But-” “But what?” “That is not supposed to be my job” replied puffing her cheeks. “You are paid to be my assistant” said Trinity scornfully “If I want one of those paint, then you’re going to buy me one of those paint. Understood?” she threw her bag on Alaska’s desk “Put this in the wardrobe and don’t waste my time anymore” “Breathe, breathe, breathe” Alaska repeated to herself while sit in the back seat of a taxi, heading towards Sharon’s gallery. The taxi driver looked at the blonde dazed, but Alaska was too worried for guarantee her mental stability to a complete stranger. As she got out of the taxi she found herself in front of a gallery as so many others in Williamsburg, with one of the paintings in the window and nothing more showed. Before entering Alaska peeked into the inside – the furniture was black as the walls, the only point of lights were the light bulbs that enlightened every single piece of art and a computer screen that was hiding a girl with orange hair. Alaska breathe with relief. Maybe that was a shared gallery, and she was one of the other artists. Or maybe she was a salesgirl. But that girl wasn’t Sharon for sure. “Welcome!” said the orange head as soon as Alaska crossed the threshold “Oh, did you miss me already?” Alaska was mistaken – for sure “My boss saw me looking through your website and now she wants one of your work for her goddaughter’s birthday” explained rashly (which was unexpected even for herself speaking so fast), looking down at her MiuMiu’s pink satin sandals. She shivered at the thought that she was wearing a pink dress – what would have Sharon thought about her in that moment? Sharon looked up and down the blonde and then smiled “Sure. Please, have a round” she said as she brought her attention back to her computer. Alaska started looking at the paintings as she did the day before. She was glad Sharon didn’t ask her why she was looking at her website. For a moment that seemed last forever, the only sound that could be heard in the room was Alaska’s clicking of heels. Then, Sex Pistol’s Pretty Vacant echoed from the speakers. Definitely not a coincidence. “You look good in pink” started Sharon as she approached Alaska. The blonde smirked “And you in orange” Sharon run her hands through her hair “What can I say? Tonight when I came back home I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to dye my hair” she moved a hand in Alaska’s hip “I couldn’t sleep because I still was so excited” she explained, whispering in her ear. “About that” rushed Alaska, freeing herself from the other’s woman grip “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said all those mean things about your art. Pretty rude of me” and before Sharon could add anything, she continued “I’ll take this” she said looking the price tag framed next to the paint she chose. Sharon nodded and went back to her computer “Have a sit, I have to write the bill” she pointed at the empty seat at the other side of her desk “Would you like something to drink?” Alaska shook her head “I should come back to Vanguard soon” she said. She sat still and rested her hand on her knees. She has never felt so nervous before, and her posture made it pretty clear.   “I hoped you had already quitted your job” breathed Sharon as she wrote the bill “I really meant what I said yesterday” “I’m halfway my goal” said automatically Alaska. She lost the count of how many times she said that line to herself. “Ok” acquiesced Sharon as she pulled the bill out of the pad “Then, that makes 1300 dollars” “But in the price tag…” started Alaska, but Sharon cut her off. “Yeah, the price tag says 1200 dollars. But since you don’t want to want to quit this hideous job, your boss owns you at least a proper lunch” she grabbed her coat, the bag and the keys “Come on. I’ll promise that where we’re going they don’t serve acai bowls” she joked. A grin appeared in Alaska’s face as she wrote the check. She quickly grabbed her bag and reached Sharon, who was keeping the door open for her “And I promise I won’t read your work today” she said playfully as Sharon closed her gallery. “Oh sweetheart” Sharon titled her chin up and brushed her thumb against the blonde lips “with this cute mouth of yours you can do everything you want”  

* Yeah sorry guys – I had to.

[midnightsharks]

The Babysitter

This is a drabble from Family Affair fic (mpreg hartwin tentacle noncon fic).

Summary:

While Percival is cooped up in his house due to medical leave, Galahad leaves his alien brood to his care so he can spend quality time with his husband.

(Tags: horror,gore,creepy children, dark humor)

The thing was Percival owed Galahad a favor and on one fine morning, the agent knocked on the door of his house to collect his due.

“Good morning, Alastair.” Harry said all too brightly when Percival partially opened the door.

There was nothing remotely good about the morning. Percival got shot on his last mission, his arm bound up in a cast and then mandated to take a whole month of home rest. His husband was still dead and his daughter,Roxy, was on a high risk mission somewhere in South Africa.

Plus there was now Harry. Percival opened the door to see the Hart girls smiling at him. He narrowed his eyes at Harry. It only took a second for him to put two and two together but he was hoping it was not the case.

"Eggsy and I would need some time together. Alone.” Harry declared. Fuck. Percival was right: He would be babysitting Harry’s alien brood.

“The girls would be staying with you for a week to keep you company.” Leave it to Harry to make it sound like HE was the one doing him a favor.

In less than an hour, the girls settled in Alastair’s house. Harry was rattling off instructions on how to handle the girls and alien survival tips. "I don’t like the word ‘aliens’.” Harry said in distaste. "It sounds racist.”

Alastair merely raised his brows knowing that yesterday politically correct Galahad over here massacred an entire cartel just because he had a bit of a domestic at home.

From what he overhead–-okay eavesdropped because he’s a spy and bored from medical recuperation – on the conversation between Harry and Merlin, Eggsy’s mum doesn’t like Harry that much because he’s not that ‘shiny’ and that her son could have chosen a better life partner.'She had two billion children and had the nerve to focus on one just because Eggsy married me.’ Harry griped.

On the first four hours, the girls were very much well behaved.

Then Georgina ate a candle.

Alastair quickly consulted Harry’s list when the girl levitated around the room with a lighted candle melting on her face.

“She’s not allergic to candles, is she? ” Alastair asked Xetoclax when he couldn’t find anything relevant to the situation at hand.

“George’s bored.” The other sibling muttered ,not bothering to look up from her reading.

“Right. How about we watch a movie? ” He pulled out their DVD collection and picked something from Disney.

Alastair can’t help it. He wasn’t really Mr. Entertainment. When Roxy was young, it was James who made them laugh.

So they watched Little Mermaid, while Georgina floated around the room. “ She could have just drowned Eric and made him pregnant from the start.” Xetoclax muttered when the end credits rolled.

“ That’s what Dad did and it all went fine.” Harriet agreed.

The children then turned to Alastair for his opinion.

“Weeeeeeeellll”, he stretched that word for as long as he could and thought of answers that would not give reason for their parents to murder him,“ if Ariel drowned Eric, he would have been dead and they can’t have children anymore.”

“ I don’t think mermaids have tentacles .” Xetoclax explained to Harriet.

“ Mermaids aren’t real.” Alastair said before he realized his mistake when he saw their disappointed faces. Children should be free to fantasize and given enough time to play before being exposed to the harsh realities of life.

“ Too bad ,” Harriet mused, “ I would have skinned one.”

Alastair prided himself to be a man of utmost propriety and unflappable demeanor. But dealing with the Hart brood was a balancing act of practicality and horror, akin to walking on a tightrope in the middle of an earthquake.

For example, he had never cleaned up this amount of blood not even during his most violent missions.

Skirmishes amongst siblings were normal. Severed limbs and bitten off faces were not.

With his arm in a cast, Alastair tried to stop their fighting by screaming, blocking and putting the girls in separate rooms.

The operative word was tried. They evaded him by crawling over the walls and the ceiling. Their speed and agility was preternatural. With shrill shrieks, they bared their sawlike teeth at each other .

Georgina made a mess on the walls and carpet when Harriet impaled her with scissors. Xetoclax was trapped and burning inside the oven.

Both of Harriet’s arms were torn out.

And this was just over who gets to have the last cupcake.

When things literally calmed down and after looking over Harry’s list, he drained the water of his backdoor pool and refilled it with tap water.

All the while, the girls were giggling. Laughing and making fun of each others distorted faces and bodies.

They jumped into the pool, taking their severed appendages with them.

In just one day, Alastair’s neat and orderly home transformed into a slasher film scene.

He finished his cleanup by nightfall.

Exhausted, Alastair sat on a folded chair by the pool, bringing out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He had quit a few years before.

The pool was red with the girls floating peacefully face down.

He lit a stick and breathed in the smoke to block the overwhelming sharp tang of blood.

The only fortunate thing was his neighbors were on vacation overseas.

Day two was promising.

There was a prank call but nothing to be too alarmed about. Not with other pressing matters such as keeping his sanity and safety around the children.

Lucky enough, Alastair made a quick inventory and realized that despite yesterday’s carnage, none of his things were broken.

They had breakfast. It was a picturesque setting: The girls were mended and dressed neatly while he served pancakes sans sugar –because it was the devil’s crack for children, human or otherwise.

“ Uncle Al,” Harriet asked,“ where’s your family?”

“ My daughter,Roxy, is out of town working. ” There was a pause and Alastair looked up from his meal, curious at their silence.

“ That can’t be all of your family.” Xetoclax argued.

Alastair was mollified. It still hurt to refer James in past terms but he should not give an impression that he was ashamed to talk about his loss.

“ I had a husband but he passed away. His name was James.” He admitted.

The girls stilled, petrified in shock. He was about to voice his concerns when they screamed and made distressed clacking noises on the throats while babbling altogether.

“You’re still alive!” “ How did you manage to live! It must hurt so much.” “ How did you not die?!”

They crowded on him and gave him awkward pats to comfort him.

Perhaps it was because of his pent up emotions, the length of time that he delayed his mourning –moving to immediate action of replacing his husband with Roxy for the Lancelot title, saving the world and fixing it to a manageable order– and the excessive ways his extraterrestrial wards expressed their condolences that Alastair broke down and gave in to his grief.

He would have to bribe them later not to tell Harry of this incident.

One of the girls climbed on his lap and grabbed his face to suck on his closed eye.

“ What are you doing?” He guessed it was Georgina.

“I’ll remove your tears, Uncle Al. ” Georgina stopped and mumbled, “No more tear ducts.”

“ No thank you.” Alastair quickly recovered and placed Georgina on her seat and pointed at the girls to follow suit.

“No.” He repeated empathatically.

Despite his assurances that he was fine, they still looked at him like he was about to drop dead at any second.

They came to his bed at night pitch dark in their true forms, staring at him . Alastair roused from his slumber to see unblinking bright luminescent orbs, their inhuman shapes weighing down on him.

“ We will watch over you, Uncle.” Their voices echoed. Soft and raspy like dried grass over the clicks of their mandibles.

“ We will eat death if it comes for you."They declared.

Alastair thought it was sweet of them and slept through the night while they chanted threats on the grim reaper.

All in all, he and the children were getting along just fine. After today, they would be picked up by Harry.

He was out to buy bread when he got a call from Merlin.

One of the assassins from his last mission managed to track and locate his residence. It was Murrel. A man so skilled and dangerous that he managed to incapacitate Percival to escape.

Alastair realized the clue of the prank call in hindsight and went back home.

He opened the door and scoped the perimeter. He was out for an hour and the house was in disarray.

There was no sign of the girls.

In the dining area was the assassin sitting and staring at him expectantly. Before Murrel could stand up, Percival flicked his pistol and shot him neatly between his eyes.

The assassin stared in confusion. After a second so did Alastair.

Then like an actor that missed his cue, the supposed-to-be-dead assassin looked sheepish then slunk down from his chair and clumsily sat on the floor to lie down.

Alastair sighed.

"Girls! ” he called out.

Murrel’s corpse twitched and three buglike amphibious creatures broke out and chattering and waving their tiny spikes in agitation.

“ It was an accident.” “He shot Xetoclax.” “Bad man! Bad man! Bad man!”

He should not be encouraging this. What would their parents think? Actually, scratch that. Percival recalled what Harry was like pre and post A.P. (Alien Probing) .

He ordered them to pose by the mangled body and took a picture with his phone. He took another shot because Xetoclax complained that one of her eyes were shut.

Alastair sent the picture with a quick caption to Harry.

True to his guess, Harry was ecstatic and wanted the corpse to be preserved for posterity.

When Harry returned to pick up the girls, he was with his husband. They were happy, glowing and stinking what Percival hoped was not E.T. jizz.

Harriet and Xetoclax hugged their sire, Eggsy, while Harry wrangled Georgina to put on her skin before they go outside.

Strange as they were, they have endeared themselves to Percival.

The Hart family bid their goodbyes and Alastair shut his door and returned to his quiet orderly life.

[going-through-some-stuff]

Entry Seventeen - Saturday, July 11 2020

Well it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted on here. It’s also been a little over  two years that I’ve been posting on here, which is fucking insane to me. There honestly hasn’t been anything super insane that’s happened to me specifically in the like six months since I posted last. COVID-19 is still going on because people refuse to wear masks and self-quarantine, which is frustrating to say the least. Black Lives Matter protests are also happening still, which is another whole ordeal in and of itself. Like how hard is it to understand that the police force disproportionately targets black people and shouldn’t be allowed to get away with all the bullshit they get away with. Fuck qualified immunity and all that shit. Fuck 12, All Cops Are Bastards, de-fund the police. Anyway, back to what’s going on in my life specifically because you can and should go listen to what more qualified people are saying about Black Lives Matter, and COVID if that’s still going on. One big thing that happened to me over the last few months was I decided to drop accounting as a major and pursue higher level courses in economics because accounting is very boring and not what I want to do. I’m getting a masters certificate in econometrics, which is basically the data analysis and projection side of economics. I think I’ve gotten all of that stuff sorted out, but we’ll have to see. It’s gonna be weird because I’ll be taking undergraduate and graduate courses at the same time this fall, but I should be fine. Still going to therapy (virtually because duh) and it’s been helpful. It’s nice to have a person that I can just talk through my shit with. I’m also pretty sure I have ADHD in some capacity because my mind is just constantly running in all sorts of directions but I won’t know for sure until I can get back to Emporia and take an official test for it. I also quit my job at Walgreens because I didn’t enjoy working there and didn’t want to be there anymore. It’s been nice not having to worry about work all the time and having a ton of free time to myself. Not getting paid kinda sucks, but I have money saved up so I can pay my bills and still have money left over for stuff I want to do like seeing movies, buying magic cards, etc. Not having a job also means I get to spend my summer in Wichita, which has been pretty great overall. It was supposed to be a time to get to see/hang out with my friends a lot but COVID has kinda put a damper on that. I still get to see them, but not as often as I’d like. I also haven’t been talking to my dad as often, which has also been good because basically every conversation I have with him ends in me being pissed off in some capacity. I’ve seen him like three times since summer has started and they’ve all been fine but he’s still very obnoxious to deal with as a whole so the less the better. Like he just refuses to admit he’s wrong in any capacity. I try to call him out on his bullshit, he tells me I’m wrong and that I need to “grow up” and get used to the “real world” where apparently everybody is an asshole, at least according to him. It’s just impossible to have a serious conversation where I tell him anything important going on in my life because he always finds a way to turn it into a fucking lecture. It’s so fucking frustrating. He’s just always so passive aggressive about shit. Like I have to go with him, my sister, and my stepmom to Emporia later this week for some stuff and my sister and I were going to drive up separate because she wants to be back pretty quickly since she will have gotten back from a month or so out of town doing medical school stuff. So my sister asks if it’s ok if we leave early, my dad says he wants to have dinner up there, and she asks again because she gets back the day before and wasn’t aware until yesterday or two days ago we were going up there, and my dad’s exact response was “That is fine. I was thinking it was another hour, but if you feel that way, that is fine.” As if that’s not some of the most passive aggressive bullshit ever. Also whenever my dad says anything is going to take X amount of time, it’s usually twice that long at least. So when he says an hour, its at least two hours or more. But it’s this kind of passive aggressive shit that makes me not want to talk to him. He talks like he’s so much better than we are and that we don’t know what we’re doing or that we’re adults, and it’s infuriating. If he didn’t have financial power over me (paying for phone bills, etc.) I would probably never talk to him because I just don’t want to deal with it. If he could just admit to being an asshole and not being right all the time, then maybe we could work on some kind of compromise. Like I know I’m not the best son/person but that doesn’t excuse his shitty behavior. I really want to have a sit down with him and have a serious heart to heart about what’s going on because I feel like he really does want what’s best for me and doesn’t understand how much he’s been fucking with my mental health for most of my life, but also I’ve tried to have serious conversations with him before and he always ends up condescending, interrupting, and overall treating my experiences and feelings like they’re invalid. I’d like to do it before I go back to college this fall so I can just have that off my mind, but it’s hard. I don’t know if I’m going to really be able to put all of my feelings out there in a way that doesn’t make it sound like I”m attacking him and trying to blame everything on him, because it’s not entirely his fault I am the way I am. But on the other hand I think he deserves a chance to be able to learn from his mistakes and be a better person. I just don’t know how well he’s going to be able to do that and how much of an impact this is really going to have, and that’s what scares me about it. I really want to try and fix this because I know other people’s dads are irredeemable and they’ve got no shot, and I feel like I”m doing them a disservice by just completely giving up without a fair chance. I don’t know. It sucks. I think I need to talk to my mom about it because I know they went to couples therapy for a long time before they divorced and I want to hear her side of how that went and see what she thinks. My therapist thinks it’s a good idea and my sister agrees, but we’ll see. Anyway, I’m gonna start doing a thing where I put a song that I’ve been listening to a lot recently and hopefully one that pertains to whatever I end up talking about in these posts, even when I post as infrequently as I do. The first song is Could Have Been Me by The Struts. If you pay attention to the timing of these posts, you’ll notice it’s a song that I’ve only heard because it was popular on Tik-Tok, but this app is great and anybody who thinks they’re too good for it is a pretentious asshole. Like if you don’t want to use it, that’s fine, but you’re not special for not using it either. Anyway, this song is really good and I very much suggest it. But that’s it for today. See y’all again at some point probably. It’s ya boi, AW, signing off.

[youmeandwinona-blog]

epcot

8:00 AM

Today is Epcot day! We weren’t as on the ball as usual in regards to getting ready today. Our plan was to get to the park by 9 but as it reached that time, we had yet to leave the house. We were worried that we were going to miss our one fast pass that we were allowed for the day, which was for the ride Test Track. But as it turned out, traffic and the line for parking were not as bad as expected. On the radio in the car, we heard a story about a man who left his gun in his bed (like an idiot) and in the middle of the night, the dog jumped up onto the bed and shot his wife in the butt. 

10:15 AM

Test Track

We headed straight for our fast pass ride when we arrived at Epcot and got through the line very quickly. Our first stop was at a big tv where we were able to create our own personalized racing car! We created a car named Piglet (in order to match Winona/Winnie which we drive on the regular) which was pink and quite stylin’. 

The idea of the ride was to test Piglet in four categories: power, responsiveness, efficiency, and capability. The only really cool part was the power component, where we sped around a track extremely fast, to see how well our car could hold up to the speed. 

10:45 AM

Mission: SPACE

For this ride, we had to choose between green (less intense) or orange (more intense). Obviously, we are adrenaline junkies and chose the MOST INTENSE. Maria was being a little baby about it because there were so many warning signs throughout the line up that suggested not riding if you were prone to motion sickness, and she had felt sick during the Simpsons ride two days prior. However, I knew what the ride was like and thus told her to man up and do it. This ride was a simulation that mimicked going into space and running into problems along the way. Maria was the navigator and I was the pilot, and the two random people we rode with were the commander and engineer. The most exciting part was liftoff, where you could actually feel yourself being pushed against the seat because the pressure was so intense. It was so strong that it made my one eye start to water a lot and my ears popped! 

WATER

The water section was basically all Finding Nemo. There we window shopped in the gift shop with a lot of cute stuffed animals. Then, we saw this ride with people riding in shells so we got into the line that we thought was for that. Alas, we were mistaken. We ended up waiting in line for Crushes Turtle Talk which is basically a show where an animated Crush picks out kids from the audience and answers their questions about being a turtle. Originally, we were disappointed that were stuck in this kids show, but we found ourselves laughing along and were impressed with how adult friendly the show was. We also loved how quick Crush was to respond to any question he was given. 

After that, we looked in the aquarium a bit and found that it was actually very big! Maria commented on how similar it was to something that you would pay $45 to see at Ripley’s aquarium in Toronto. We saw sharks, dolphins, sting rays, and even a manatee. 

We had done everything except for the shell ride, which we didn’t want to wait 45 mins for, so we moved on to the next section...

LAND

12:30 PM

This is where we ate lunch. I had Mongolian Beef with chicken fried rice and Maria ate shrimp stir fry. We were going to do the rides here, but the lines were long and we were excited to get to the main component of Epcot. 

AROUND THE WORLD

This area is 12 stations representing different countries and their cultures, positioned around a lake. Our first stop was our very own homeland. 

Canada

Here, we watched a 360 degree movie all about Canada and what makes it special. It had beautiful landscapes and we learned where the ship on the dime comes from! Martin Short was the host of this movie, which added some comedy to the film.

UK

We looked through many gift shops here and found Holland in the book of last names for crests, but no Nicula :( I guess Nicula truly is not a UK derived name. Surprise surprise. We also witnessed a man attempting to buy a sword, but he couldn’t because it was a danger to have in the park. The lady told him they would have to ship it to his home town which made him and his son quite unhappy. However, it was probably for the best because she saved him a solid $200. 

In the UK, we also listened to the end of a show from the band Quickstep, which performed folk music on the streets as we passed by. 

France

In France, we fell asleep. More, specifically, we fell asleep in an 18 minute long video of France which was much less exciting than Canada because instead of Martin Short’s jokes, they had soothing classical French music playing the entire time. 

Morocco

This was not a big stop for us, and we mainly just browsed the gift shops. Here they had many beautiful piece of jewellery, beaded head ornamentation, and belly dancing skirts, all of which we tried on. There was also an artifact gallery which displayed traditional clothing and accessories worn by those from Morocco in the past. 

Japan

The first thing we saw in Japan were 3 drummers performing in front of a pagoda with a big crowd watching. While listening to the drumming, we looked in a Kawaii museum, which was meant to explain how Japan created its cute culture. This is not a simplification, that is literally all the museum was. We saw many Hello Kitty and Pokemon figurines. 

In the gift shop, the kawaii continued with sailor moon, dragon ball z, and many cute figurines to choose from. There was also a pearl booth where one of the women took a live oyster/clam out of the water and cut it open to give each person their own individual pearl. 

Afterwards, we grabbed some shaved ice, which was rainbow flavoured and continued on our way. 

United States

There was not too much here, and we were not extremely interested in watching another 18 minute video about the American heritage. However, we did stumble upon the ending of an amazing acapella concert which took Maria’s breath away. She was very impressed from the three minutes we were there. 

Italy

This area was very beautiful- they had mock statues and the Trevi fountain was present. There were a lot of places to eat and we regretted getting fast food from LAND. Debbie had warned that there was an amazing wine cellar that sold cheese trays and other appetizers, but we did not stay to try it out. 

Germany 

This was Maria’s favourite architecture. Here we found out that Snow White is German, as well as Rapunzel. The area smelled of pretzels and beer, and seemed to be where many of the adults were located. We looked at some really expensive Swarovski crystals, like the amazing belle and beast figurine which was going for $14 000. So much for shopping here. 

Outpost

Here is an African style section, which unfortunately was never made into a full country. There were a couple of outdoor gift areas and a refreshment booth, but nothing else was in the area. 

China

We got to China right on time, as there was a show about to start so we sat among the crowd and waited. It turns out the show was some sort of acrobatic, circus like performance with many impressive balancing acts and a duet with the couple in rollerblades. At one point, they were spinning, with the girl attached to her partner by only a necklace and as she spun around her neck, I was positive she was going to die. BUT she was fine! 

China also had a huge gift shop, which include lots of Buddha’s that I wanted to buy.

Norway

We walked through the Norway gift shop, that had skin products, winter coats, and many Frozen memorobilia. There was also a bakery where I wanted to go because I still had pretzels on my mind, but they didn’t have what I was looking for. 

Mexico

This area is unique from the rest of the pavilions because it is completely indoors. You walk through a pyramid resembling Chichen Itza and it opens up into and indoor market, including a tequila bar, an Aribas Bros. shop, and a stunning looking restaurant under faux stars.

There was a ride here called the Grand Fiesta tour: in it, Donald Duck leaves Mexico city to be a tourist and see what makes up the rest of the country. However, he has left his two amigos alone right before they need to go on stage to perform! We sat in a boat and enjoyed watching as they searched Mexico for the missing Donald and eventually played us some tunes. 

5:30 PM

At this point, we decided it was time to leave Epcot so we took one last picture with the golf ball and were on our way. We headed back to the outlet mall to grab a couple of things that we had been thinking about from our trip there the day before, namely a pair of Nike running shoes for Maria and a lavender dress for me. 

On our way home, I started talking about the Walking Dead, which had gotten Maria intrigued. We stopped at Chilis for our dinner and spent the evening conversing about the show. So, of course, upon our arrival back to the hotel, we sat down and began to watch an entirely different type of show than our last one. 

- Jessica

P.S. We have decided to place the pictures in a separate post as to not stretch our lovely images.