#trying to figure out the tabs for a song but the recording has a lot of reverb and i cant figure out what theyre playing

[artist-regardless]

ive reached the point in guitar where im frustrated and not learning anything and can't stick to any projects pain

[moonsaver]

Imagine instead of 4ggravate being a kpop boy group and reader being the fangirl, its the other way around

4ggravate forms a groupchat particularly because of you, their bias, who is also the least recognized in your group and is often overshadowed by others, leading to a desperate convergence of your fans in finding out the itty bitty stuff about you that's all on blast when it comes to the other idols in your group. They're like detectives trying to figure out whether you liked the specific flavor of ice cream on a show you participated in with your group. Each of them keep tabs on any official updates about you, recording and clipping parts of your group's lives in the tidbits where you come in, and forming a wall trying to defend you from majority of the fandom when you get backlash from false rumors. That's just how the group came to be.

Kaveh is the oldest fan amongst them – he's been there since day 1. Claims he knows the most out of all of them and tries to prove it via quizzes and guessing games. Sometimes he wins, most times he doesn't. Also the poorest of the four. He spent so much on buying your specific merchandise he didn't plan for the future concert you group was holding in his area, and ever since then he's had to tearfully decide constantly between buying albums, your photocards, new lightstick versions, etc.. and your concert that may or may not even be held in the area.

In the rare chance that he does attend your concert – he tries to get the most out of it. Front row, headbands, fanchant at the top of his head, lightsticks in both hands. When you notice him and exchange a few words over the loud crowd, he swears he's going to pass out, looking up at your crouched figure on the stage makes you look almost like an angel to him, the light highlighting your figure perfectly. Suffice to say, he eventually made an impression on you at least.. because he passed out and the crowd had to surf him to a security guard. He's deeply embarassed about it, and can't really escape it now that he's become a bit of an inside joke in your fandom

Cyno is the second older fan. Like Kaveh, he prides himself over having a good amount of knowledge about you that's not exactly easy to find – old, old, old images of other kpop idols in which you appear for a fraction of a second, spotting the products you use in your lives and being able to find out the brands is his specialty. If Kaveh has the knowledge, Cyno at least has the detective skills. He has his own individually run fanpage where most other fanpages, even your group's fanpages, refer to as a trusted source. Has also managed to create several fancams of you that were incredibly hard to get ahold of. He's those fanpages on twitter who thoroughly collect evidence and manage to pinpoint future events you're going to take part in before they're announced, and he manages to predict it correctly almost all the time. He's well known within the fandom, but due to how busy he is in 4ggravate trying to form a cumulative plan almost all the time, rarely does he find the time to respond to other fans and fanpages, and most other admins don't usually approach him either.

If anything, at least he's got more resources and money than Kaveh. I imagine he actually also is in a lot of other groups besides 4ggravate.

Alhaitham, out of everyone, is the one who's actually talked to you the most. He was originally just interested in the music, didn't really care until he realized how less and less your lines became the more songs your group churned out. So in his mind, to "make up for" the lack of lines on your end, he decides to simply just pay extra attention to your solo activities. It's not soon before you become his bias. Unlike Kaveh, he was pretty strategic and managed to plan ahead for scheduled fancalls, fanmeetings, appearances in public, etc..

he leaves a lasting impression because.. he doesn't show his appearance. At all. There's many fans out there who get your attention by doing strange things with their appearance, but Alhaitham refuses to even take off his mask just to talk to you. In fancalls, he decides to cover the cameras, always wears hoodies that cover him completely when he meets you in public. At some point, the fandom falls in love with him instead (which drives Kaveh insane), and it's not soon before there's all sorts of rumors about you two. The rumors get more wild when he only ever takes his hoodie off once when you meet him face to face. Personality wise, he sticks out because of how easily he's able to spot changes in choreography, voice, pitch, writing style, etc.. and even more so, because of how upfront about it he is, without actually being creepy about it. He gives good advice without making it sound like unwelcome criticism.

Tighnari is actually the normal one. He just generally likes the music and likes your voice specifically because he thinks your voice suits the concept the best, but because of a few injustices (which he sarcastically comments on many fancams, to which also many fans agree), he finds himself doing something similar to Alhaitham. Albeit, less.. detailed? Is what he thinks. He's actually a bit of a keyboard warrior when it comes down to it – replying to group threads that intentionally leave you out, having the sassiest comebacks to mean or rude comments about you, piecing together timelines and locations to prove false rumors wrong, working especially close with Cyno in these kinds of cases. If there's a fancam of you, Tighnari is under it fighting some or the other hater, or just blatantly commenting on the event itself that intentionally disrespects you or your group.

He's probably the only one who actually leaves a long lasting impression on you. When your car drives by a bunch of your excited fans, he's the normal one who's looking on calmly and waving to you with a stoic face. Whenever he comes to fanmeetings with Alhaitham, or has fancalls with you – it's fun! His humor is easy to accustom to, conversation goes lightly, and overall he's the tamest out of everyone. He gives you some skincare advice which you gladly accept, and somehow, despite not being as incriminating as the others when it came to detail, they're salty about how he seems to be the one who's closest to you. It's not unnoticeable the way out of all four of them, you recognize him by a first name basis. Ohhh boy.

[phie04]

Inconvenience | g.clarke

Chapter 4: Tough Day

Summary: The boys try and help Noa with a new project

Word Count: 1.2k+

Warnings: swearing, George being a dick (again)

Roughly a week or so had passed since Noa moved into her new apartment, and her hopes that George would warm up to her hadn’t been achieved yet.

Even though she spent most evenings with the boys, he would still only talk to her if the others were there, and whenever he could he avoided her at all costs.

It was beginning to bother Noa. She couldn’t understand why he was acting this way towards her, and after thorough discussions with his other roommates, they confirmed that she hadn’t done or said anything to cause this behaviour.

Luckily, Arthur Hill and her got on like a house on fire, and being one of the better housemates at DIY, he aided in building most of her new furniture whenever he wasn’t recording a video or working on his new song.

“So when’s it coming out? I feel as if I can only listen to the same sound bite before I go crazy.” Noa said, glancing up from her laptop to look at Arthur, who was sitting on her kitchen counter.

“Should be done in a couple of weeks, just trying to iron out the wrinkles and sort the bridge out.” He replied, taking a long swig of tea out of the mug that she had leant him. “What are you working on? I feel as I can hear your brain whirring.”

Noa grumbled and massaged her temples. It was moments like these that she wished she had an influencer job, with complete creative freedom and a flexible schedule, instead of her gruelling 9-6. “Trying to find as many different types of ancient column design as possible. Well, not too ancient because the clients want their building to look modern enough.”

Arthur gave her a sympathetic look. “You really are bottom of the food chain in your firm aren’t you?”

“Yep. That’s what you get when you’re the new kid, all the tasks that no one else wants.”

“But at least you’re not having to make coffee and do paperwork right?” He asked hopefully.

Noa raised her eyebrows at him. “Why do you think I’m having to do this at home, and not in the office.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.” She muttered, scrolling through another page of Grecian inspired pillars. “Honestly, sometimes rich people have too much money to spend. I mean, who needs a foyer with the three types of alternating pillars, that match the fountains? Do you know how expensive that is Arthur?”

He winced. “I’m guessing a lot.”

“Correct.”

“Noa!” Chris yelled, swinging the door open. “You, me, George and the two Arthurs and the club. Yes?”

“Chris, it’s a Thursday night.”

“Exactly! Thursday night, do you have anything better to do?”

Noa blinked at him. “Be up in the morning with ample amount of sleep ready for work?”

“God I forget you have a boring actual job.”

“Someone has to remind you guys there’s an actual world out there.” She muttered, typing quickly on her computer, eyes widening as her stomach let out a low growl.

Chris and Arthur slowly turned their heads to look at her. “Okay, new plan. Order takeout and watch a movie?”

“I could be up for that.” She said quietly, absentmindedly chewing on the end of her pen, before going to jot down some notes. “Just need to finish working.”

Chris’ eyebrows raised. “And when will that be?”

“Before the end of time.” Noa said. “Or at least I hope so. I’ve gotta figure out the best combination of these pillars and then I’ll be done.”

“And how many combinations are there?”

“Well there’s eight main types, but then there’s different patterns within those. I might have actually lost count.”

Chris moved so that he could peer over Noa’s shoulder, and winced at the number of tabs open she had on her computer, as well as the scribbles that adorned her notebook.

“Gonna be honest. I’ve got no clue at what looks good. But I believe in you Noa, if anyone could figure it out it’s you.” He said reassuringly, patting her head. “Right, Hill let’s order food, at this point in time Noa will probably eat whatever we put in front of her, so what are we feeling up for?”

arthurhill

liked by arthurtv, maxbalegde and 28,039 others

arthurhill everyone drop your favourite pillars and columns to help with Noa’s latest design

Comments open

fan1 everyone knows the correct answer is doric

⮑ fan2 booo temple of winds supremacy

maxbalegde scared and confused at this comment section

⮑ noamurphy they’re all just architecture nerds like me

arthurtv correct answer is ionic

⮑ noamurphy no it isn’t I promise

⮑ arthurtv one day you’ll see

⮑ noamurphy sure. also we’re getting take out if you wanna join

⮑ arthurtv I am running to the elevator

fan3 noa in the ikea vlog is everything 😫🤌🤌🤌

⮑ fan4 she is a divine queen

⮑ fan3 her and George in the bed 🤌🤌

⮑ fan4 nooo that was the most forced and uncomfortable thing I couldn’t with it-

gkbarry_ we stan a hardworking queen

⮑ noamurphy love you boo

⮑ gkbarry_ okay now girlie take a break

“Okay Noa, maybe take Grace’s advice and stop? Surely it would be better to rest up and then be able to finish it when you’re not exhausted?” Chris asked gently, reaching to slide the laptop away from her grip.

Noa glared at him and swatted his hands away. “No Christopher. No.”

Chris gave her a stern look, only looking away when the door slammed open again, revealing Arthur Television in his pyjama trousers and hoodie. “Food, when?”

“The one with the law degree decides to speak like a caveman.” Chris muttered, shaking his head, as a much calmer George walked through the door.

Walking into her apartment, George was hit with the realisation that he’d never been in Noa’s apartment before - she’d always been at theirs, or if Chris and Arthur where heading down he’d give the excuse that he was busy planning videos.

He was pleasantly surprised. Well, he didn’t exactly know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t a light and airy apartment. Maybe he thought there would be neon lights everywhere, like the ones that adorned Chris’ room or stacks of books like Arthur.

The living room was cosy, and he recognised the two sofas that they had picked out in Ikea, as well as a plush rug, with a coffee table that matched the dining table and chairs. A couple of pictures adorned the walls, a simple beach watercolour as well as some cinematic shots of her playing football with Arthur and Chris.

His brow furrowed. Neither of them mentioned that she played, and since she’d arrived they had filmed a football video for Chris’ channel, but she didn’t take part. Surely if Noa was good enough to warrant her to have photos of her playing, then surely Chris would want that talent in his videos?

George cast his eyes to Noa, who was hunched over her laptop, still trying to finish the designs. Arthur TV sat next to her, and the pair were discussing which column designs worked the best together.

“Maybe that person was onto something bringing temple of winds into the conversation…what if you put them with some Doric pillars, then…” Arthur trailed off, stumped.

“You see? Finding two designs that go together is easy, but a third? A fucking third?” Noa sighed, resting her head on the keyboard.

“How rich are the clients, ie, what’s the budget?”

“Yeah, are they Ronaldo rich, or so rich that you’ve probably never heard of them?” Arthur Hill asked.

“The second one.” She muttered. “Which is why it has to be perfect, because they are paying us a lot.”

Noa sighed and pulled up the designs of the fountains that had been chosen. She studied them meticulously, trying to find a hint that could help her. Even though it was strenuous work, this was one of the reasons that loved designing buildings, once you found all the right pieces, it perfectly fell into place like a puzzle. It was incredibly satisfying, and seeing the final projects always made her heart swell with pride.

But this was really trying her patience. Why couldn’t she figure it out? It didn’t also help that she had a live audience watching her stress over it. “Do you know when the food’s getting here?”

“Should be about five minutes.”

“Thank god.”

“Oh never mind, the guys here.” Chris said, slipping his shoes on, that had been previously abandoned by the door. “Arthur can you help carry it?”

“Sure.” Both of them replied, following Chris out of the door, leaving George alone with Noa.

She was silently cursing the three that had just left, physically wishing all the curses and ailments upon them for leaving her with George. Who, was silently leaning against her kitchen counter.

George didn’t know what to do. Ever since the trip to Ikea he hadn’t been close to Noa again, not that he wanted to, but he wasn’t sure if he should mention it. Why should he? If she hadn’t mentioned it then surely she was fine, right?

Not that he even wanted to talk to her.

George couldn’t fully see into Noa’s room, most is it being blocked by the angle at which he was looking in, and from what he could tell, it was just like the rest of the apartment, except with more decorations. He wasn’t sure why, but he was curious about what was inside, how Noa had organised her bookcase, what perfumes she used, how she kept her jewellery, the way her plans laid out on her sketching desk.

And he didn’t know why.

As far as he was concerned he actively disliked Noa, and so he couldn’t fathom why a part of him was so interested in her, why he wanted to know the little details of her life.

Noa closed her eyes. She was genuinely considering giving up, but she knew she couldn’t. This had to be finished that evening so that it could be sent to her supervisor ready for the next morning. Pushing her chair back, she stood up and paced into her bedroom, unknown to her that George’s eyes followed her every step, hoping that one of her books would provide her with some inspiration.

But it wasn’t any of her architecture books that caught her eye. It was the battered copy of the third Percy Jackson book - it was her favourite of the series, and would read it religiously as a child. Partially, as a child it was her dream to become a Hunter of Artemis, and so she could read the book over and over again without tiring of it.

Somehow, this was the prompt she needed to let the puzzle pieces fall into place. “OH MY GOD!” She exclaimed, sprinting out of her room and skidding on the wooden floor to the table. Noa grinned whilst nearly destroying her keyboard at how quickly she was typing.

“FOOOOD!” Chris called, carrying the plastic bags and setting them down in front of Noa.

“Dude give me two minutes I’ve figured it out.”

“Really?” Arthur TV asked excitedly, pulling the chair next to her out, so he could see what she was working on. “Caryatids? Noa that’s genius! They match the f-“

“Fountains yeah, because they’ve got marble women carved into them, and so they’d match perfectly.”

“Have we ever said you’re a genius?” Chris asked, smiling proudly at her.

“Only when I do genius shit.”

[tofumedic]

Brothers + Diavolo w/ a selectively mute GN!MC

summary: how well the brothers would be able to deal with you being selectively mute and how they respond to you talking to them !

Lucifer

Other than Diavolo, he may be the only one to know beforehand as helping in the organization of the RAD program, however it may only be overlooked if it is not present in any kind of record like schooling or medical.

When you first come into Devildom, your D.D.D. may be used as a sort of translation object between you and those present.

He is a little peeved in the beginning before you are able to explain it, he would regain his calm but would see it as a small setback to how he expected orientation to go.

Other than that he quickly learns about you and how you work so that he can work with you while trying not to dote on you!

The one that would gift you small portable whiteboards and markers if you had a preference over it for typing, professional though only dark blue and black inked markers <//3

Your first words to him are probably about answering a question or a summons, he does a lot of both but don't call him out for being clingy okay

Anyways

If this man is standing or getting up to greet you expect him to stumble, just slightly catching himself on the edge of his office desk or resting a hand against the wall

When he meets your eyes you can see there's a pinch of panic of "you did not just see that please tell no one" that melts back into "oh my god???????"

He's quick to relax back into what he wanted to talk to you about, not wanting you too feel anxious or guilty for however long it took for you guys to have a mutual trust and safety net.

For the rest of the day his face remains in this pleasant smile and everyone except Asmo and Beel are suspicious, Mammon being especially on edge.

If they call him out on what has him so happy today he will brush them off for being nosy about what isn't their worries but the small blush that rises to his face as he crosses his arms does not help his case.

Mammon

He is all of your noise

He gets forgetful and will try to have conversations across the house by yelling at you only to barge into your room in his petty fake anger just to see your face either amused at him or completely deadpan and he just ....🧍‍♂️

He gets anxious about leaving anywhere without his D.D.D. now what if his human needs him while he's not "bothering" you

Takes extreme pride in helping you order food when you go out places whether with his brothers or just alone, he loves it. Not only does he get an excuse to sit by your side and lean into your shoulder to see what menu item you're pointing at but it means he also has less worry about, he likes being close by to help you just in general.

Your first words are probably involving some drama he was mourning over earlier that day, probably with Lucifer or being the butt of the joke with another brother.

If Lucifer would stumble, expect this man to fully fall. God forbid you two are walking down the stairs instead of him rolling off the edge of your bed or just plopping on the carpet.

He would be so excited, his cheeks are burning even though you may have not even complimented him those words are gonna be ingrained to his memory maybe even written down in his notes app.

But he will downplay how happy he is that out of all of them he was the first you talked to, because of course it would be him the great Mammon and your first man it just made sense.

He's over the moon he won't flex it unless you start being verbal with more of his brothers he doesn't want them to pressure you into speaking no matter how much the urge bubbles up while Asmo is talking about how you would rather match outfits with him that others

Leviathan

He doesn't mind that much, at the beginning of your relationship he is very shy and doesn't really start talking unless something reminded him of one of his shows or games

Will gain a habit of just texting you instead of asking you a question outloud, just because he thinks its more polite and understands as in sometimes it's too much energy to open his mouth to speak

Teaches you phrases from his games, basically call outs, as an extra layer of code to let you know if you're camping out in his room that he is gonna leave for a package (going to spawn camp) or food (healing) etc

He does get jealous saying it's unfair about Mammon helping you order stuff in the "irl" while absolutely being too nervous to do it for himself as well

You two have your own codes for entering each others room, knocking to the tune of a popular sound effect from a game you play together for the ease but he enjoys when you try to do the beginning of an ost or girl group song and he tries to guess it

Your first words for him are probably you entering his room with some snacks or having picked up a package for him from his door, his response to you entering would be asking you to hold on this match or episode was almost done

So when you give out hum and either let him know you're staying or you're signing off (leaving) it's an insta-death, his attention is caught so fast

His posture extremely straight from his hunched focus as he speedquits his match closing every tab back to desktop before standing up on his wobbly legs and giving you the most affection he can handle of having that without warning

He gives you a small headbutt, pushing his forehead into your shoulder as he controls his breathing. He can't handle it that's like finale love interest marrying the protag and you hit him with it so lightly.

He wouldn't change his preference of texting you questions as it's something he's still comfortable with and you speaking to him makes him feel like he's reached masters rank without losing any matches

Satan

He is your best bet for knowing sign language, he finds it interesting that there are so many regional variations has tucked his knowledge of them into his big ol head

His movements would be hesitant as he's mentally dusting off the memory of practice but he is very good at it, though he wouldn't be more than only a pinch disappointed if you didn't prefer that way.

He be more interested in you in the beginning before learning about your magical presence and the pact hunt, it's unusual to him and he likes the study

Picks up small things that are unnoticeable to everyone but you about small habits and things that barely make it easier, like remembering to rebuke Mammon when he goes to order but forgets you don't like a certain ingredient and asks for it to be removed himself.

Would ask if you would like to learn Devildom's concept of sign language, maybe just quick easy signs for going about RAD tasks and classes

Your first words are probably said to him in the safety of his study, surrounded by books or even your homework while he reads

MC i love you very much but i feel like it would be something really stupid or cursed along the lines of

"I'm tired of people making Frankenstein's creature ugly he's literally written to be sexy" or "Why are people so attracted to Dracula he's supposed to ugly af >:/"

He would be.. very nonchalant about the fact it was you speaking to him and acting like he was talking to one of his brothers and going against you in the argument until he picks up those books to prove his side to be like "oh."

He needs a moment after such a not so public embarrassment so it would be later while you're both laying in your respective rooms and he's going over it in his head and then it hits him. It also hits that it was perhaps the most unromantic way it could have gone but it makes him smile into his pillow.

He has it as a secret weapon against Lucifer but he likes knowing something his brother doesn't

He can't look at you for too long the next day but will use the two figures of your mock argument to lightly bully you being soft on you in the comfort he wanted you to know was returned

"In case of argument, you would make a very good creation made in such a pleasing image"

Asmodeus

He is willing to fill up space for conversations for you also, he has a lot to say but will still ask you questions and for your input so you're included

He thinks the whiteboard concept is very cute! He would be the one to get you little accessories like a bag just for that and your markers or a strap for it. He would also be the one to get you more marker colors, you having just black and dark blue is unforgivable

Enjoys asking you how you're feeling, in a way that's easier if you didn't want to write or type it all out is giving him a number between 1-10. 10 is for your absolute worst like if you are having a day that you can't get out of bed or 1 where you're feeling really good like nothing can hurt you.

Doesn't force you to go out and party with him in case it's bad for your nerves or there's a worry demons will rude about "their advances being ignored."

Likes being close to you, so you can write in a notes app or use some other alternative other than texting where he might not see it getting buried by other messages.

Asmo would enjoy either holding hands or wrapping his arm around yours of your non dominant side, he makes good by staying on that side when he's going for affection or just to be in your bubble.

You talking to him for the first time would probably being during an outfit review or ordering new face masks off of Akuzon.

And he would melt, pelting you with kisses smothering every empty inch of your forehead, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose he's so happy

Whatever you were doing or looking at becomes his favorite, a fit he wears when he feels down to keep him happy, or using a specific brand of nail polish or face mask specifically due to the memory

Would find any lisp or rasp overwhelmingly adorable, of course it fits his angel you sound undeniably perfect. Loves how conversations sound with your two voices mixing together.

Beelzebub

He wouldn't completely understand but he isn't rude about it, his actions remaining normal to how he usually acts

If you wanted to learn their version of sign language he would try with you no matter if it was a struggle to fit into his schedule between the gym and spending time with Belphie and RAD and anything else but wouldn't want you to do it alone

He would keep you safe from anyone who had a problem with it, he's used to Belphie not wanting to talk to people other than him so he would be able to handle it especially if you two had similar gestures you used

Beel is also quite quiet in his own other from rumblings or dislike about being yelled at, he's good at still talking and holding his ground in arguments too but affection with him would be extra quiet compared to extra brothers

Your silence other than shuffles or small laughs, it's comforting like a sense of calm. It makes him think of your human dream catchers always quiet yet supposedly helpful and healing

You may verbally ask for a treat or some of his snack he brought for you two instead of a small gesture if your arms are trapped in the cuddle position you've been stuck in and any food he was eating would pause. Giving him a second he would easily give you all that was left

"Not hungry anymore" he would say his eyes warm before closing with his warm smile, he melts more into you like a jacket to let you feel how warm his heart was.

You were always special even if as an agent of chaos with some of the phrases you would drop, and he would adopt into his vocabulary and even further speaking for you in situations you couldn't

Belphegor

Belphie when you first met would give you a different gaze, in a slight squint almost breaking his image of being a helpless human but he would override it, continuing on like normal

At the beginning he may have even less belief in you getting pacts with his brothers but you still prove you're capable and things are normal for how he would treat you, not really changing just like Beel.

For a man (demon) to say actions are stronger than words, he certainly strains his ears just in case you answer his question in that way not that you would know and i certainly did not let you know ok??? cool cool

Other than that he really doesn't mind!!! You and Beel are really his top two people he has interest in being with and you being mute wouldn't change anything ! He may seek you more for naps outside of his room or the attic you don't move as much as Beel does as long as he doesn't curl up over your arms

In the privacy of one of your rooms- whether Asmo and Mammon are out on the town or in his while Beel is at the gym or somewhere else- is your first words spoken as softly as you can to him

Him laying across you with his head resting with his mouth close to your collarbone and ear resting almost on your neck he can feel the vibration in your vocal cords, you were probably asking him to move

Which you probably thought he was doing but any movement was so he could be closer to that feeling of your words if you spoke again, his knees tucking up while his toes curl

You wouldn't be able to fully process just how important that action was to him, you trusted him and felt safe and could let words out to him, after everything that was real forgiveness.

Diavolo

Him just looking over and encouraging you being chosen by Lucifer, he probably would not know unless again it was strongly present in your transcripts

He would find it interesting, it was your first surprise to him and filled him with mirth at the concept of seeing Lucifer tense in confusion his feathers absolutely ruffled

Though while you were already human which meant your interactions were sure to be interesting to him, the way you interacted was also completely different from Solomon, he would love giving you his time no matter how Barbatos would sigh already seeing it before it went into motion

It may mean a little extra work for Lucifer but he wouldn't complain he did a good job picking you for Diavolo to enjoy your company so much even if he was slightly worried on your influence on him

For doting only predict help with fixing the RAD program and making your class experience more accessible, if he tries to help too much someone would certainly have a word with him

He's known being compassionate, he just wants it to be easy for you as it is probably hard enough on you between the brothers, school, and being selectively mute

He barely uses his D.D.D. but if you prefer using that it's no problem though do give him awhile to type out his long messaged questions instead of asking them on call

First words with him may be said on a trip out to explore or in his castle during a private moment in the retreat or in his office

No matter the context it would be a mood booster, he would compliment you you're voice is perfect to him it matches the image you've shown so far

It's a delight, you never fail to surprise him he may repeat your words in his own voice laugh resting on his breath. He'd ask you to stay a little longer if he can get away with it, and if he can't he surely will try

[nicknellie]

Anonymous requested: Julie and the Phantoms are on tour and Juke are dating, one stop on tour Luke gets sick  (woke up with fever, swollen glands, sore throat etc) and the doctor diagnoses him with strep and an ear infection and Julie takes care his stubborn butt back to the hotel because he doesn't like to let down the fans since they have to cancel few shows.

Anonymous requested: alive guys, out of school in the real world, now all living in an apartment together. The 5 Times Luke Was Sick, and The 5 Times Julie Cured Him and maybe add in the 1 time Luke returns the favour of taking care of Julie.

Anonymous requested: Luke and Julie are married and have a daughter (Rose, 3). Rose and Luke end up waking up sick with the flu and Julie takes care of them, and she gets worn down from doing everything and caring for them. And even with him being sick in bed he lays with Rose when Julie’s beat and cuddles her when she feels sick even though he feels the same. Cute family fluff basically.

We Will Fight To Shine Together

The entire week had been hectic. Julie – along with her boys, Luke, Alex, and Reggie – had finally got the keys to their new apartment and had spent the whole of the previous two days hauling their belongings there from their respective homes. Ray Molina, protective as always, had been breathing down their necks in a frantic and worried attempt to help them out, the presence of Willie and Flynn had resulted in less unpacking and more Cardboard Box Wars, and most of their things were strewn about in unlikely places after the chaos of unpacking; just that morning Julie had found Alex’s drumsticks in the fridge.

But they were finally there, they were finally home, and there was nothing to worry about. Everything in the apartment seemed to be in order, they weren’t set to go on tour for another six months so the stress of that was still a way off, and the band’s new-found sense of freedom and independence hung over them like a rainbow. There was nothing that could have gone wrong. Nothing except–

“Dude, you look sick! And not in the good way.”

Julie had been sat atop the kitchen counter, watching Alex prepare their breakfast, but she looked towards the door when she heard Reggie’s exclamation. Stood in the doorway, bundled in about four hoodies, his eyes bloodshot and his nose running, was Luke. Reggie was right – he looked as if he were about to keel over and die. His puppy dog eyes were wide and watery and he looked utterly dreadful.

“Luke,” Julie said, hopping off the counter and heading over to him. “Are you feeling alright?”

He shook his head and sniffled pathetically. “I’m sick,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, you look it,” Julie said. She took his hand and gently led him towards a kitchen chair. He collapsed into it with a relieved sigh as if he couldn’t have bared standing any longer.

To Julie’s surprise (and slight annoyance) Alex and Reggie were laughing.

“You must have the weakest immune system known to man,” Alex joked as he put the group’s breakfast onto plates.

“On the bright side, Willie owes me ten dollars,” Reggie said with a beam. “I bet him you wouldn’t last two weeks before getting sick.”

Julie put her hands on her hips and glared at the two boys who immediately ceased their laughter. She knew she could be quite terrifying when she wanted to and she didn’t like abusing that power too much, but this was a situation she felt called for it.

“You two are seriously lacking compassion,” she scolded, pointing to and from Alex and Reggie. “Your friend is ill and all you can do is laugh at him. It’s mean – he has it difficult enough right now.”

Luke, pouting pathetically, nodded in agreement.

Alex and Reggie, both looking suitably chastised, muttered, “Sorry Julie.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t apologise to me.”

“Sorry Luke.”

“That’s better,” she said. Julie took herself out of Mother Mode and returned to Supportive Girlfriend. She gently ran her fingers through Luke’s hair – he relaxed a little as her touch. “I’m going to take you back to bed, you’re going to get some rest while I look up your symptoms, and then I’m going to take care of you.”

Luke’s eyes widened. “It’s probably just a cold. You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t, but I’m going to. Come on.”

Julie sent one more cutting glare to Reggie and Alex before helping Luke stand and leading him back through their little apartment to their shared bedroom. She eased him back into the bed, helped him make a half-nest-half-fort with the pillows and duvet, then grabbed her laptop and set up YouTube for him. Then, she pulled up a tab on her phone and sat beside him on the bed.

“Do you feel like you’re going to be sick?” she asked.

Luke shook his head.

“Are you feeling dizzy at all?”

“A little bit,” he croaked.

She smiled knowingly. “Sore throat too?”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

Julie asked him more questions, then determined that because of the stress of moving his immune system had utterly crashed and some nasty bug had seized the opportunity. According to the internet, he needed plenty of bed rest, he should have been kept warm, he needed a lot of water, and most of all he simply needed to not do anything for a while.

“But we’re supposed to go to the studio tomorrow to record a bunch of songs,” Luke protested when Julie told him. He sat up abruptly, but eased himself back down, a hand rested against his forehead, wincing.

“You’re not going anywhere like that,” Julie told him. “I’ll call the studio and let them know we’ll have to record your parts a different time. Don’t say anything,” she commanded as he opened his mouth to argue again. “I’m not changing my mind.”

He grumbled something she couldn’t quite hear but assumed was something childishly rude – it had certainly sounded as if he’d been mocking her voice. She ignored him and instead headed back out to the kitchen. Julie grabbed painkillers and a large glass of water and took them back to Luke who had started a long YouTube playlist of Bondi Rescue videos.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be sitting in front of a screen if you’re dizzy,” Julie contemplated, handing him the tablets and the drink. Luke looked up at her with a mixture of sadness and fury in his eyes.

“I’ve already lost my health, I can’t lose Bondi Rescue too,” he said.

She breathed a laugh and sat back down beside him. He immediately melted into her side, his head rested against her abdomen. She stroked her fingers through his hair and felt him sigh at the touch.

He was asleep within minutes.

*

Julie and the Phantoms were on tour. It was a moment they had all been anticipating ever since they’d inducted Julie into the band. The four of them had saved up enough money to buy their own tour bus emblazoned with their faces and the band’s logo and were spending nine months driving across the United States and Canada to perform their show to sold-out crowds. Julie could hardly believe it was happening.

Right that moment, part of her wished it weren’t happening.

Julie had been led to understand that before she joined the band and became the responsible one, Alex was the ‘parental figure’ who had kept Luke and Reggie (both far more boisterous by nature) in check. If anyone had told her that on the second leg of their tour, she would not have believed it for a moment. Alex was sat in the passenger seat beside her, but was leaning over the back of it to swat at Reggie who was kicking the back of his seat. Both were calling each other childish names and their hands were flapping about like they were having a catfight. Julie had given up trying to stop them about two hundred miles ago.

Looking after them sometimes felt like having a pair of toddlers. Though more often it was like having three toddlers because Luke would find a way to join in on the shenanigans. But right then, in the backseat beside Reggie, he was oddly quiet.

“Luke,” Julie called over Alex and Reggie’s squabbling, readjusting the mirror so she could see Luke behind her. “You okay?”

Luke nodded then tried to clear his throat. “Yeah,” he said, voice gravelly. “Sore throat, that’s all.”

Julie frowned. “Are you sure? You don’t sound good. Will you be able to sing for tomorrow’s show?”

His eyes widened frantically at the mention of the performance. “Of course! I’ll be fine, it’s just a sore throat.”

It was, unfortunately, very clearly not just a sore throat.

Julie pulled the tour bus into the parking lot of their hotel and the gang all headed to their rooms. Julie and Luke were sharing, partially to save money and partially because they wanted to. Before they went to sleep, Julie checked again with Luke to see if he was alright and again he told her in that rough voice that he was fine.

However, when they woke up Luke seemed distinctly worse for wear. He was radiating heat like the sun but shivering as if he were in the arctic, he was complaining of pain in his right ear, and when Julie looked down his throat she saw that his tonsils were swollen and covered in white spots.

“You’re not going on stage like this,” she said, shaking her head. “No way. I’m calling a doctor.”

“I don’t need a doctor,” Luke insisted, attempting to hoist himself into a sitting position but giving up quickly. “It’s just a sore throat.”

“You can try telling me that again when you can swallow more than a drop of water,” Julie said before picking up her phone and calling the nearest doctor.

Luckily, the doctor was able to come out to the hotel so Luke didn’t have to even get out of bed. The doctor took one look at his symptoms, then turned to Julie.

“Looks like strep throat,” they said, snapping their latex gloves off. “The pain in the ear is because of an ear infection that came after the bacteria travelled from the throat to the middle ear. I’m going to prescribe him a course of antibiotics, he’ll need to take them all otherwise the infection will come back stronger. I recommend he doesn’t perform for at least another month to give the infection ample time to heal.”

“A month?” Luke tried to yell, but it came out as an outraged breathy whisper.

“Yes,” the doctor said, looking down at him over their glasses. “Your infection is particularly severe, Mr Patterson, and if you want to finish your tour then I suggest you take my advice.”

“We can’t cancel shows,” Luke protested weakly. “Think of how excited everyone’s been…”

Julie smiled to the doctor and saw them out of the room. “Thank you very much,” she said. “I’ll make sure he gets those antibiotics and plenty of rest.”

Once the doctor was gone, Julie called Flynn, the official manager for Julie and the Phantoms and Julie’s lifelong best friend. “Cancel every show for the next month,” she instructed. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Are you alright, Jules?” Flynn said, immediately sounding concerned. “I can come over and take care of you, whatever you need, I’ll book a flight right now–”

“I’m fine, Flynn,” Julie assured her. “It’s Luke. He’s got strep.”

“Oh no.” Flynn’s worry morphed into something akin to disappointment. “He’s literally the worst one of you guys to get ill right now.”

“Tell me about it. He’s furious that we’ve even suggested cancelling the shows.”

“He gets it’s for his own good, right?” Flynn asked.

Julie shook her head even though Flynn couldn’t see her. “He knows that but he doesn’t want to let everyone down. He’s been more excited for the tour than the fans have – he doesn’t want any of it to go wrong and this is about as wrong as it could go.”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it once the ‘get well soon’ messages start arriving,” Flynn said.

“I think that’ll just make it worse,” Julie countered. “Anyway, it’s fine. There’s nothing we can do. Just make sure everyone knows the next shows are cancelled.”

“You got it, boss. Good luck with Luke.”

“I’ll need it.”

Julie hung up on Flynn and headed back towards Luke. He was still sat up in the bed, looking very sorry for himself as he pouted with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hey,” she said softly, crouching down next to his side of the bed. “I’m going to make you some hot honey and lemon water – my mom always made it for me when I got a sore throat. It’ll help, I promise. Is there anything else you want?”

“I want to do the shows,” he said petulantly.

Julie shook her head firmly. “You heard the doctor – none of us are going on any stage for another month. Flynn’s cancelling the shows as we speak.”

Luke looked aghast. “No!”

“Yes. You’re sick, Luke. And think about it; if this were me or Alex or Reggie in your position, what would you say to do?”

“I’d say we should cancel the shows until you got better,” he said as if the answer were obvious, then he seemed to hear his own words and deflated a little. “Fine. I suppose this is for the best. I… I just feel like I’m letting everyone down.”

Julie intertwined their fingers and held his hand tightly. She gave him a soft, reassuring smile. “You aren’t letting anybody down, Luke. It’s not your fault that you’re sick and there’s nothing any of us can do about it now. All that can be done is for you to rest and take your meds so that the next shows we do are as good as they can be. Okay?”

He rolled his eyes sighed, but there was the tiniest smile playing about his lips. “Okay.”

*

Julie had said it was a bad idea from the very beginning, but the boys had insisted that they’d done it before and it was perfectly safe.

It felt good to be proven right, but less good to be vomited on.

The first problem was that there was definitely not enough room anywhere in their tiny apartment for three grown men to attempt the famous lift from Dirty Dancing. Julie had pointed that out. She had pointed it out almost a dozen times. Every time, Reggie had told her that they didn’t actually need a lot of space, trust me.

The second problem was that their heights simply didn’t add up to a safe lift. Luke and Reggie were of a similar build, but Alex was much taller and there wasn’t really anywhere for him to go – if he held up one of the guys, they’d be held at an angle; if he were the one on top, he would likely crush the other two.

The third and final problem was that none of the boys were dancers and had no training or experience, therefore none of them knew how to do the lift properly and safely. Julie had stretched this argument to its breaking point but the three idiots had not heeded her warning.

And so they had done the lift.

It had started out strong. They had decided that Alex would be the one in the air, so Luke and Reggie had got into position with their hands outstretched and Alex had taken a great running start and leapt at them. To their credit, the boys held Alex in the air for a solid three seconds before Reggie lost his balance and Luke’s grip slipped, and the three of them went tumbling to the ground.

Julie watched in unsurprised horror as Alex fell flat on top of Reggie and scrambled to get off him, while Luke dropped far too close to the dining table and whacked his head on its corner with a grotesque thud.

He was out cold.

Julie muttered a curse and hurried towards him. Alex and Reggie gathered around slowly too, warily looking down at Luke, clearly feeling guilty.

“Luke?” Julie said to the unconscious lump in her lap. He was heavier than he looked – she privately understood why they had decided to lift Alex instead. “Can you hear me, sweetie?”

After a few more minutes, Luke came to, groaning and cradling his head.

“Hey,” Alex said, smiling brightly. “You’re awake! Sorry about that, we–”

Alex didn’t get to finish his sentence because Luke interrupted him by loudly and violently throwing up on Alex’s shoes. A little bit hit Julie’s dress and she quickly yanked the fabric out of the way.

Alex looked at his shoes disappointedly. After a long while he said, “I am going to the bathroom. Either to shower or be sick, I’m not sure yet,” and then disappeared.

Reggie was a deathly shade of green, staring at Luke and the vomit.

“If you don’t like it you can go, Reggie,” Julie said. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

Reggie nodded and followed Alex out of the room, wide-eyed.

“Let’s get you to bed, huh?” Julie said. Luke nodded vaguely, his eyes far away, and she led him through the apartment to their bedroom. She only just managed to get him into bed before he started slipping into unconsciousness again.

It was plain as day that Luke had a nasty concussion. Julie tucked him into bed, then switched off the lights and drew the curtains so that it was almost pitch black. She got him an enormous glass of water and readied all the painkillers she could find, as well as grabbing a large bowl so that he didn’t have to run to the bathroom if he needed to be sick again. Then she looked up concussion on her phone – it said that if he’d woken up after being knocked out then he needed to go to hospital; she wasn’t sure how she was meant to get him there now that he was unconscious again.

Julie decided to wait until he woke up again. She laid down beside him on the bed and pressed the gentlest of kisses to his forehead.

“You’re such an idiot,” she whispered. “I love you.”

*

Julie loved her boys usually, but sometimes she really believed they lacked the common sense necessary for general survival.

“You did what?!”

Luke, Alex, and Reggie looked between each other frantically, stuttering for excuses.

“Uuuuhhhh…”

“Nothing really out of the ordinary, I don’t think.”

“Pretty sure it was actually you who did something they shouldn’t have.”

Julie raised her hands and the boys silenced. She glared at them, half furious and half exasperated.

“Are you seriously telling me – or rather not telling me – that after all the times I specifically told you it would be a bad idea, you went and got hotdogs that were being sold out of the back of an Oldsmobile?”

“In our defence,” Reggie piped up, raising his hand like a kid answering a question in class, “they smelled really good.”

“Wish they’d tasted as good as they smelled,” Luke grumbled. Alex hit him.

“I have never met anyone with less common sense!” Julie yelled, waving her arms. “What is wrong with you? What made you think it’d be a good idea? How did you not think that it was the dodgiest set up for any fast food ever?”

“Relax,” Reggie said, “street dogs haven’t killed us yet.”

The highly questionable hotdogs did not, in fact, kill them. However, the next day all three boys were overcome with food poisoning so horrible that Julie simply could not take care of them all by herself.

That morning she sent a quick text to Willie to offload Alex to him: Come and get your dumb boyfriend, he and his idiot friends ate bad hotdogs and got sick, you can take one. Twenty minutes later, Willie showed up to take Alex back to his apartment, an ungodly amount of blankets in his hands when he arrived at the apartment.

Reggie was the least ill – he could pretty much take care of himself and at the very least he wasn’t throwing up everywhere. He stayed on the couch, watching some cartoon on repeat. Julie let him be.

Luke, on the other hand, was quite the task. He was feeling and looking absolutely dreadful, unable to move himself from his bed and being sick whenever he tried to do so much as drink a glass of water. Julie truly had her hands full trying to take care of him.

Despite his protests, she called the studio and cancelled their appointment with Luke today. He was in no fit state to record any hit songs right then; he could hardly even open his mouth without sick coming out of it.

Feeling particularly frazzled, Julie finally allowed herself a little break from rushing around after Luke to relax, just for a moment. She settled herself comfortably onto the bed beside Luke once his sickness had calmed down a bit and fired up Netflix. She could feel his doleful eyes on her as she selected a movie and let it play.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked.

“Are you apologising for being sick or for eating those hotdogs even though I told you not to?” she questioned.

Luke had the good grace to look a little ashamed. “Both.”

Julie shifted a little to wrap her arms around Luke’s midriff. “Don’t apologise for being sick. It is your fault, but don’t say sorry for it. I will accept your apology for disobeying me though.”

Luke rested his head against Julie’s shoulders, shuffling further into the covers. “We should have listened to you, I know. But if you could have just smelled those hotdogs…”

“Yeah, I’m sure they smelled great mingling with the stench of petrol,” Julie deadpanned. “I’m starting to think you three need constant adult supervision.”

“We are adults.”

“That’s why I’m so worried.”

Luke huffed a laugh, but then frowned. “I feel bad. You’re always the one taking care of me. Just once I want to take care of you.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you want me to get sick?”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that,” he said hurriedly, even though Julie had been joking. “I just meant that you do such a good job with this every time. I want to give you a break.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Julie assured him. “But… if I ever do get sick, I’ll make sure to come straight to you and you can take care of me. Deal?”

“Deal,” Luke said with a soft smile.

*

It had been many years since Luke had been really sick. Julie had naively thought that maybe they’d get lucky and he’d never be sick again. Maybe his laughable immune system had finally caught up and had strengthened itself against what most people could avoid easily.

Wishful thinking.

Flu season was set to ruin Julie’s life. She had woken up one Monday morning and followed her usual routine, heading to her daughter’s bedroom to wake her up for preschool. She had shaken little Rose awake, but the three-year-old had been extremely hot.

“Oh, sweetie,” Julie had said gently. “Are you feeling sick?”

Rose, rubbing her teary tired eyes, had nodded and cried very quietly.

Julie had pulled her into a hug. “Okay, honey. You go back to sleep. It’s alright.”

She laid Rose back down, tucked her back in, and encouraged her to sleep. It took a long time and a lot of tears from Rose, but eventually the little girl drifted back into a fitful slumber. Feeling like all she wanted to do was go to sleep herself, Julie headed back to her own bedroom and shook Luke awake.

“Luke,” she whispered. “Rose is sick. I’m going to call the preschool and tell them she won’t be in, but then I’ve got to get to the studio. You think you can take care of her today?”

Luke sleepily opened his eyes and groaned as he shifted into a sitting position. He held a hand to his head – it looked far too similar to him steadying his balance for Julie’s liking.

She sighed. “Please don’t tell me you’re sick as well?”

Luke tried for a smile. “No, no, I’m alright. I’ll take care of Rose, don’t worry.”

He tried to swing himself out of bed, but Julie didn’t miss the way that the sudden movement made him wince. That and the fact that he clapped a hand to his mouth, the other held over his stomach. Unsteadily, he got to his feet and headed to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back to the bedroom looking sheepish.

“I’m sick too,” he said quietly.

Julie sighed haggardly and looked to the alarm clock on her bedside table. She needed to be at the studio to start her recording session in half an hour, but no part of her was willing to leave her husband and daughter alone while both of them were seeming awfully ill. She quickly made her decision.

“You get back to bed,” she said gently to Luke, taking his hand and leading him back to the bed.

“No, I need to get Rose,” he said, but he grudgingly followed her.

“I’m going to get Rose,” Julie told him as she sat him down and tucked him in. “I’ll bring her here and you can stay snuggled up together. I’ll call the preschool, run some errands, and I’ll check on you both later, okay?”

Luke nodded and lifted Julie’s hand to his lips as if to kiss it, then seemed to think better of it and dropped it. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Julie went back to Rose’s room. The little girl was fast asleep, wriggling around a little as she dreamt, her black curls that were the same as her mother’s spread out over her pillow. Gently, Julie picked her up and held her tightly to her chest, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head as she carried her to her own bedroom.

Luke smiled as Julie entered the room with Rose cradled in her arms. He lifted up the duvet so that Julie could lay Rose down beside him. As she put Rose down, the little girl woke up. She looked around, seeming surprised to have been moved. Then she began to cry very, very quietly.

“Dada,” she wailed, tiny fists clutching at Luke’s pyjama top. “Mama!”

Julie was exhausted. She could see a long day ahead of her, looking after both of the most important people in her life as they battled this disgusting illness. But as she looked at them – tearful little Rose snuggled up with Luke, who had his arms around her tightly, stroking her back soothingly as he whispered shushes – she felt a little bit of that exhaustion melt away, replaced with love.

She perched herself on the bed. “Rosie,” she whispered, tucking one of Rose’s stray hairs behind her ear. “If you quiet down, Mama will sing you a lullaby.”

Luke’s eyes widened. Behind the bloodshot sickness, Julie could see the love and admiration he had for her in them. She beamed at him, and he smiled back as if in awe of her. She felt her heart swell with love.

Rose hushed a little and Julie began the lullaby that her own mother had sung to her when she was little. It was a traditional little rhyme, simple and easy, but the beautiful melismatic notes strung together like bunting made the rising melodies sound ethereally pretty. It had always been one of Julie’s favourite songs.

Rose fell back asleep, huddled in Luke’s arms. Luke reached his hand out of took Julie’s hand.

“You’re perfect,” he mouthed, trying not to wake Rose.

Julie smiled, gently kissed his hand, and finally got up to phone the preschool.

*

Julie never got sick. It wasn’t in her nature. It just didn’t happen.

Except for that one time.

Julie woke up with the highest temperature the thermometer had ever recorded, her head was spinning like she was on a rollercoaster, and her muscles felt so fatigued that she couldn’t get out of bed.

And yet, she said to Luke, “I swear I’m fine.”

Luke, in a rare moment of knowledge and common sense, didn’t take her word for it. He seemed almost excited for her sickness – Julie wasn’t sure how to feel about that – and he pulled her into a tight hug.

“No,” he said firmly, “you’re sick. I’m going to take care of you.”

And he did. The very next thing Luke did was make Julie up a hot water bottle and bring it to her to help combat her chills, then he brought her three boxes of paracetamol and an entire pitcher of water. He called the doctor’s office for advice, then dragged the entire television set up to his and Julie’s room from downstairs. He got Rose ready for school and before he left the house he assured Julie that he would be back soon and she didn’t need to worry and, “If you need anything, just call me and I’ll come straight back.”

Julie couldn’t help but smile despite her tiredness and awful feeling. “I’ll be fine, Luke. Get Rose to school before she’s late.”

“I love you,” Luke said.

Rose, stood at the end of Julie’s bed, said, “Love you, Mama!”

“I love you, Rosie. Have a good day.”

Julie watched the love of her life and her perfect daughter leave the room and listened to their footsteps heading downstairs. Maybe she felt absolutely terrible and perhaps like she was going to be sick, but when she had someone like Luke looking after her it didn’t feel quite so dreadful.

[alwaysfeelingsaintlike]

About Time [G.W] - Part 5

pairing: George Weasley x OC

series description: on an unexpected night out, George meets the love of his life. and then suddenly loses her. what lengths will he go to in order to find her?

word count: 2.5k

taglist: @p0gues4l @amourtentiaa @305weasley

series masterlist

“Weasley, for two,” George said to the host. After leaving Gringotts, they had apparated to downtown London to a small wizard-friendly restaurant. They were guided to a small table in the corner of the dimly lit restaurant. There was a flame lit in a jar that was sitting on the table, providing some mood lighting.

The table was small and George’s long legs were so cramped that his knees were gently grazing his date’s.

“This is nice,” she said, looking around the small restaurant. The atmosphere was warm and cozy, which was only enhanced by a man playing guitar and singing cover songs for the patrons.

“Have you been here before?” George asked.

“No, I didn’t know this place existed.”

“Wish I could take credit but Fred recommended it. This is his go-to date spot.”

“And where’s your go-to date spot?” she challenged.

“Eh that would be Dans le Noir,” George replied, referring to the spot where they had shared a meal in complete darkness.

She laughed, “No I’m serious.”

“I don’t think I really have one. Every now and then I’ll take someone to one of the bars in Diagon Alley, but truthfully I don’t go on many dates.”

“That surprises me,” she replied.

“Why’s that?”

“You’re very likable and easy to be around. And you’re not too bad to look at either.”

He blushed ever so slightly, “I think I can get along with anyone, but I’m more interested in finding someone I have a connection with and that’s a bit harder to find.”

“Do you feel like there’s a connection between us?”

“Do you really need to ask that question?” He responded

“Hey, I’m entitled to ask that! As of an hour ago I had no idea you were even interested. This has all been very unexpected.”

“That’s fair. Well for the record, you’re the first person I’ve felt a connection with in a long time.”

She let out a small smile before asking, “So what happened that night?”

George sighed, “I still haven’t been able to figure it out. I think I wasn’t expecting to meet someone like you so it took me by surprise when you were so…incredible. And then I got nervous because I wanted you to like me and I wasn’t myself. That’s never happened to me before.”

“Well don’t let it happen again,” she replied with a smirk. They were briefly interrupted by a waiter who came by to take their orders. Molly continued the conversation, “I want to call you out for taking me on a proper date only after seeing me for the first time but it seems like you had this all planned out.”

“This was one of many plans.”

“Oh yeah? What were the other plans?”

“The original plan was waiting for you to come into the shop, but you didn’t want to cooperate.”

“I thought about it. A few times actually. But I convinced myself that you had someone else in your life, which is why you were so quiet that night. And I thought seeing you might be difficult.”

George hadn’t thought about her perspective before and it made perfect sense. He wasn’t sure what he could say to make things better, and luckily Molly interjected and said, “So how did you get to tonight’s plan?”

“I considered writing to you at the Prophet, but that just seemed so impersonal. And then I thought about just coming to your workplace to ask you out, but that didn’t seem quite right either. And then Fred found the invitation in the mail. I wasn’t positive you would be there, but it seemed like a real possibility. And now here we are.”

“You’re very impressive, you know that?”

“All for you, darling,” Molly blushed at his comment and George called her out, “Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to be all nervous now?”

“Of course not,” she replied.

“Then why are you blushing?”

She smiled, “It’s just nice to be pursued.”

“I have a hard time believing that guys aren’t throwing themselves at you.”

She considered her words carefully, “There are a lot of guys that are interested in sleeping with me, but romance appears to be a bit of a lost art.”

“Lucky for you, I am quite the romantic.”

“I bet you are,” she smiled. The conversation flowed pretty effortlessly and soon they had finished up their meals and were working on the last of their drinks. As George closed out the tab, Molly asked, “Do you want to go for a walk?”

George smiled, “I’d like that.” He finished paying the bill as Molly sucked down her last few sips before they gathered their things and walked out together.

It was a beautiful night, perfect for a walk through the town. George had his hand in his pockets and Molly took this moment to make a move.

“Wow, you aren’t even going to try and hold my hand?” she commented.

George looked at her and smiled, “You didn’t strike me as the PDA type.”

“Normally I’m not, but I’m willing to make an exception for someone special.” He took his hand out of his pocket and scooped up her delicate hand in one swift motion. He quickly interlaced their fingers and swung their hands back and forth. She chuckled at his enthusiasm.

“So I have an idea for our next date,” George said.

“And what makes you think there’s going to be a next date?” she teased.

“Because I know you can’t resist my effortless charm.”

“I won’t confirm or deny that. But hypothetically speaking, what sort of date are you planning?”

“I’m thinking I’ll get us some tickets to the Weird Sisters,” George felt butterflies in his stomach thinking of their first concert experience together.

“So you’re going to wait two weeks before taking me out on another date?” she countered. George was crafting a response but before he could say anything she added, “I’m surprised, I thought this date was going pretty well.”

“Ah so you do want a second date,” he grinned.

“I would like a second date, but please don’t make me wait two weeks. The concert can be our fourth or fifth date.”

“Now Molly, I know you couldn’t possibly be getting attached,” George said.

“Come on now George, you know I’m way too cool to admit to that.”

“Ah, but you also didn’t deny it.” Molly rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile growing on her face.

They continued walking along the cobblestone street, passing by storefronts that were dark and the occasional pub with a boisterous crowd. George didn’t have a destination in mind, but it didn’t matter. He wanted to spend as much time with Molly as he could get.

“So Molly, I know you’re from the States, but whereabouts?” he asked.

“I’m from Chicago.”

“Oh I’ve actually heard of Chicago. And how did you like it?”

“It’s a great city. Part of me thinks I could’ve had a happy life living in Chicago. But I wanted to explore new places and that wasn’t going to happen in my hometown.”

“Well for the record, I’m glad you decided to venture across the pond.”

“And where are you from?”

“I’m from Devon,” he said.

“Oh nice,” Molly replied.

“Are you familiar with Devon?” he asked skeptically.

She shook her head, “Not at all.” George laughed and she added, “Can’t say we learned much European geography in school.”

“So Devon is on the Western coast. It’s close to Cornwall which you may have heard of.”

“Yes, Cornwall I know.”

“Yeah so we’re a bit further north. And our town is rather small, mostly farms. Muggles primarily inhabit the area so we keep to ourselves for the most part.”

“And how did you like that?”

He sighed, “I loved my upbringing, but there’s a reason I moved closer to the city. I needed a little more action and excitement.”

“Now that I understand.”

“What’s your favorite part about London?” he asked.

She thought for a moment, “I love everything about London. I can’t quite put my finger on why. When I first came here when I was younger, I just had a feeling in my stomach that this was where I wanted to be. I’m a very logical person and I had never really experienced a feeling like that. So I followed it and never looked back.”

“Do you think you’ll stay here long term?”

She nodded, “I miss my family terribly and I would love to be closer to home, but I can’t imagine leaving London right now.”

“Well good. I had to make sure you weren’t planning to up and leave.”

“Nah, not my style,” she joked.

At this point, Molly had slowed her walking pace and came to a halt. George took a few steps ahead and turned around.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked.

“Well we’ve reached our destination,” she said. He looked at her with a puzzled look. “This is my apartment,” she said, directing her attention to the window situated on top of the teashop where they were currently standing.

“Did you just trick me into walking you home?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Maybe,” she smirked. “But I’m hoping you’ll come upstairs with me for a nightcap.”

Molly noticed him perk up ever so slightly as a small smile spread across his face. “I couldn’t possibly turn that down.” Molly smiled and gently dropped his hand as she fished her keys out of her pocket. They walked up the narrow staircase that led to her tiny one bedroom apartment. Before unlocking the door, Molly pulled out her wand and muttered a quick spell that George recognized to be a charm to tidy up.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting company tonight,” she explained.

“Does that mean you’re messy normally?” he challenged.

“Well...it's more clutter than anything. Does that…bother you?”

“Not at all. I’m one of six dear, I’m used to clutter.”

Molly sighed with relief as she opened the door to her magically cleaned apartment. It was kitschy and cramped, yet very comfortable.

“Make yourself at home,” she smiled, as she walked over to the bar cart to pour a couple firewhiskeys. George took off his suit jacket and laid it carefully over one of the kitchen chairs. He slipped off his shoes and placed them neatly by the front door. Molly padded over barefoot to the couch and George followed with ease.

“Cheers,” she said, as they clinked glasses. Molly took a generous sip from her glass to combat her nerves. She hadn’t expected any of this and she was surprised at how bold she had acted around George. She liked him and she was sure about that, but she wasn’t quite sure what her next move was.

Molly placed her glass on the coffee table and slid in a little bit closer to George. “Thank you for tonight,” she said genuinely, as she placed a delicate hand on his leg.

“Thank you for giving me a chance,” he replied. George shifted and put his arm around her shoulders. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked.

“I had a wonderful time with you.”

“Can I take you out again next week?”

Molly simply nodded and smiled at him. George sighed and cupped her cheek. “Have I told you how absolutely stunning you are?”

Molly giggled and said, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“It’s the truth, I’m not just saying that.”

She blushed, “I didn’t think you were. Your eyes said it all.”

“Now that is not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“My eyes say it all yet your eyes aren’t giving me anything,” he joked.

“Really? You aren’t getting the message that I’m trying to send you?”

“You’re going to have to try harder darling because I’m not getting anything.”

“Oh, you know what…I’m better at sending messages with my lips than my eyes,” she flirted.

“Is that so?”

“Only one way to find out.”

That was all the encouragement George needed. He leaned in towards Molly, planning to tease her a little but as soon as he felt her breath he couldn’t help himself. He gently placed his hand on the back of her neck and through her hair as his lips connected with hers.

The electricity was unlike anything he had ever felt before. If he thought she was the one before, now he was certain.

“Wow,” she breathed, catching her breath for a moment.

“That good, huh?” George joked.

“Can we do that again?” Molly asked, tugging on George’s tie.

“As you wish,” he said, enveloping her lips in his. It wasn’t long before the two were horizontal on the couch. Molly felt like a giddy teenager and couldn’t get enough of George. His musky scent was driving her wild.

George slowly kissed up her neck to her ear, where he nibbled on her ear lobe. That set her over the edge.

“We should…move to the bedroom,” Molly suggested.

George popped up to look at her, “Are you sure?”

Molly nodded enthusiastically, “I’m sure.” George stood and scooped up Molly in his arms as she giggled and he carried her into the bedroom where the festivities would continue.

X

“Wow,” George said, as he collapsed in bed next to Molly.

“Wow is right,” she said, struggling to catch her breath. She curled into George’s chest as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“I never do this,” Molly stated.

“Well you could’ve fooled me,” he said.

She lightly smacked him on the chest. “I’m not talking about sex,” she chuckled, “I mean that I never bring guys home on the first date.”

“Technically that was our second date, love.”

“Okay well I don’t usually bring guys home on the second date either.”

“Are you trying to tell me you like me?” he joked.

She laughed and said, “I’m trying to tell you that you’re special.”

George felt fuzzy inside. This was the first time that she had been direct with him about her feelings. He was starting to see a future with her.

“So what are we going to do tomorrow?” he asked.

“We could go to brunch…or we could make some breakfast here. And then if it’s nice we could go for a walk in the park. If it’s not nice we can go see a movie.”

“All I want is to spend the day with you darling.”

“Will you take me to your shop tomorrow?” she asked.

“You want to see the shop?” he looked at her with a smile.

She nodded, “I want to learn everything about you.”

George kissed her temple and pulled her in closer to him. “I would love nothing more than to share that with you.”

Molly smiled and pecked him a few times on the lips. She turned and pulled George around her so they were spooning. George kissed her shoulder and wished her good night as she drifted off to sleep.

George was soothed by her steady breathing and felt himself grow tired, but his mind was reeling which was preventing him from falling asleep. He couldn’t believe how perfectly things had gone and that his patience had actually paid off. His instincts were spot on and he knew that this girl was the one for him. George recognized that they were in the early stages of something special, but he knew he had found his soul mate.

[residentsocialfailure]

Initial True Colors thoughts::

Please don’t expect this to be intelligent or organized or in any way useful for anything. Just my dumb thoughts about a game I really enjoy :))

*Actually thoughts from about ten minutes in. I got excited when it finally finished downloading and forgot I had wanted to do this

- This game is already activating all my Colorado feelings. I’ve been wanting to move back for years, and this is making me want to even more. The scenery is so pretty, and the town seems incredible. I want to live here so bad.

- I thought the guy sitting by the creek was Gabe, and spent way too long trying to figure out how to get to him, whoops.

-Birb! I love him.

- Ah, so she's telepathic. I couldn’t remember exactly what her ability was, only that it involved auras or something. This should be interesting.

-I love that he has a tab at the florist. How often are you apologising, my guy?

- I aspire to be as cool as that gnome. Look at his shirt!! He’s the best.

- This poor kid has been carrying that bag around for ages. Can we finish the tour after I set my shit down?

- One of these days I’m going to get around to doing some goat yoga. More just so I can chill with some goats than anything else. Just some goats and me, hanging out, doing some stretches. Sounds like a fun time.

- Oh, I love this kid. He’s great. But wait, the mines? That they’re about to blast to bits? Those mines? Please don’t go camping there just yet. 

- Oh my goodness, this record store is so cool. I’m not even a huge music fan and I would spend so much time here. Also...

-Steph!! My beloved. Is it to early to ask her to marry me? Ah well, we can go play d&d and make out or something, idk, whatever normal people do. 

- Oh new, character. Cool. Hi, Ryan. Sorry, my heart’s already taken, but you seem chill. Also, did not realize she was coming from Portland. 

- Oh, I just noticed the sign. Of course she larps. God, I love this town. Where can I find Haven Springs? I need to move there. yesterday.

- I would die for Valkyrie.

- Also I love moments in games, when an npc is like, ‘help me do this thing’, and then just sits back and watches while you do all the work. Thanks man.

- God, I love the music in this game, though. I’m going to have to look some songs up later. I forgot how much I loved these moments in the LiS series though, when a song plays and it just goes through a little montage. It’s so peaceful and lovely.

- Also, I love Steph just jamming out in the background. I would die for her too.

- Forbidden Songs, by Adam and Steve. Incredible.

- Okay, Valkyrie. I love you very much, but I apparently need you to move to advance this story. Where the fuck is your toy.

- This motherfucker. Kings of Leon? Seriously? Ugh, why am I related to this loser. /j

- Okay, not that I’m complaining, but how did she get my phone number? Or actually know who I am? We literally didn’t exchange two words. I pointed at a record and she referred to me as ‘some chick’. Steph, you got your own telepathy powers I should know about??

-Ahh, my first big choice... do I want to be the cool aunt or the safe aunt?? Bc in this game, he could actually die if I make the wrong choice.... ah fuck. I gotta be safe. I’ll be cool with other stuff. Like LARPing. Please don’t hate me, Ethan..

- Ooh, this guy seems cool. I’m getting some badass Ron Swanson vibes. 

-Dude. His apartment is so cool. Seriously, where can I find a town like Haven Springs, I want to live here so bad.

- Hey welcome to the town, here’s a whole-ass apartment. Also I care about you v much and want you to have a fresh start. I’m already getting feelings from this game.

- Oh, I was just about to say I hope our downstairs neighbors don’t mind noise. This guy seems off though.. didn’t he mention a Mack? If he did, I absolutely cannot remember what he said..

-Oh yeah! He was the florist’s asshole boyfriend. Cool cool cool.

-Ah, so her powers aren’t so much telepathy, as empath who takes on the others emotions; similar to Caleb from the bright sessions. Interesting.

- Oh shit. Where’s Dr. Bright’s breathing exercises when you need them.

-God, poor Alex. Poor Gabe. They were having such a nice time.

- I just want to give her a hug :(

-So we’re getting some backstory stuff. Not sure what happened with parents yet, as far as I can remember. But I guess she disappeared on her own.. ran away? Or something else. 

- Mini game!! That was fun. I only made it to the third level bc I’m bad at things. But I’ll beat your high score at some point, Gabe. >.>

-Oh, Shu-shu is so cute. Also, could probably use a bath. Maybe later 

-Old family photo, but (probably) parents are cut out. So that, plus what was probably her running away as a kid, means not the best childhood. :( I wonder if that’s why he reacted like that to her beating up Mack? I mean, obviously, that wasn’t a great moment for anyone, but he seemed freaked out in a different way than just worrying about his sis beating someone up.

-Okay, so mom probably got sick with something, maybe cancer or something similar, and the dad was an abusive prick when she died. Maybe. Except she had cut the mom out too, so clearly that’s not the whole story, if it’s even close. Maybe mom was an alcoholic?

-Aw, he got her a guitar. I wonder if it was his old one, or a new one he bought?

-Are the flashes of red indicative of her emotions? Or is that just the sunset or something? Maybe both?

-Oh man, I really wish I could give her a hug. She deserves all the love 

 Ahh, I’m realizing how long this is getting, and also it is 11:00, and I have to wake up early tomorrow for work. As much as I would like to play this all night, I probably need to be responsible..

If for some reason you’re still here, I hope you enjoyed reading my dumb, rambling thoughts. Overall, I’m really excited for this game. So far it’s been a lot of fun, and I can’t wait to find out more about these characters and the story. I feel like this game is going to be really good. I wish we got more Steph time in, but I know she’ll come in later. Anyways, I’m v tired and might have more intelligent thoughts later, but probably not.. 

[cali-holland]

Golden Hearts, Ch. 1: You Only Live Twice

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond AU ~ Sequel to Golden Bullets

Following a messy split, Harrison, Agent 007, resumes his role as an elite womanizer, after his recovery from his previous mission; meanwhile, you’ve stepped back from your 00 status, taking on cases as MI6’s assistant director from your office. When a new threat emerges to MI6 and a dear friend gets kidnapped, can you and Harrison set aside your differences to save special agent Q, better known as Tom? Or will the stakes- and your love, push you two further apart?

Word Count: 3400

Gif is not mine

Golden Hearts Masterlist

Masterlist   Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list

Warnings: talk of kidnapping/death/weapons dealing; someone gets thrown on the ground but they’re fine; knives??

Featured Song: “You Only Live Twice” by Nancy Sinatra from You Only Live Twice (1967)

 ~ “You only live twice, or so it seems, One life for yourself, and one for your dreams “

~~~

Your breath hitched in your throat as you tightened your grip on your gun. Slowly, you peeked out from behind the tattered down wall, checking for any oncoming motion. With the coast clear, you made your way down the hallway, illuminated with fluorescent blue lights, making your white shoes glow in the dark. At the end of the hallway, you let out a small sigh of relief and pressed your back flat to the wall. You turned to look down the next hall, watching as figures passed by laughing and screaming in joy. You tried to spot your target, finger itching to pull the trigger.

Before you could continue your journey along the dark halls, you heard an electronic bang! ring out and you looked down as your red vest and gun lit up and changed to a plain white.

“Damn you-” You muttered, starting to turn around to face the man who’d shot you, but you were cut off by him kissing you. His hands leaned on the wall, pining you between it and him.

“Harrison 3, Y/N 0.” He smirked, and you playfully scowled at him. “Who would’ve known you sucked so much at laser tag?”

“This gun,” You held up your now white plastic gun, “is nothing like an actual gun. It’s not at all realistic for a gun to be this light.”

“You’re just a sore loser.” Harrison teased, his blue eyes lighting up even more from the blue lights surrounding the two of you.

“Are you going to let me go?” You asked, biting your lip. Your fingers trailed along the lit up blue vest he wore as his laser tag vest. “Or are we going to spend our last ten minutes of laser tag doing something else?”

“The latter sounds pretty fun.” He replied, leaning in to kiss you again. Not caring about anyone seeing the two of you make out in a dark corner, Harrison got lost in the heated kiss. Meanwhile, you had other plans. Still kissing him with the same passion as he kissed you, you let your free hand make its way to his neck, tugging on the hair at the base of his neck, knowing exactly how wild that drove him.

You smiled into the kiss as you heard your gun light up again, telling you that you were back in the game. Harrison heard the small noise too, but he couldn’t react fast enough and you had already shot his vest with your gun.

“Oh, my bad, were you not expecting that?” You smiled innocently. Harrison just laughed before his lips found yours again.

You woke up with a jump, a thin layer of sweat covering your anxiety filled body. Instinctively, you reached for the gun that you kept in your bedside table, but you stopped as soon as your fingers touched cold metal. You were fine, no one was in the room with you, you didn’t need the protection.

Running a hand over your face, you groaned and trudged your way out of bed. Why did you have to have that stupid dream of your stupid ex? It was frustrating to think you and Harrison were once living your best lives together as special agents by day and lovers by night. Your relationship with him was thrilling, lively, fun— it brought out a whole new side of you. But the fun stopped when you left your 00 status; unbeknownst to Harrison, that was to help with the merge of MI6 and Nine Eyes. A part of you also hoped that maybe if you were to take your job as assistant director more seriously then you could feel safer about your relationship with Harrison, which no one except for Tom knew about. The last thing MI6 needed was for two 00’s to get caught up in love and forget their main duty to their country.

As you went about your morning routine, you did your best to forget all thoughts of Harrison and to instead focus on deciphering Tom’s message. L’Americain? Who or what was that? It simply meant The American in French— did he mean the American these men were trying to find? A part of you thought that maybe Tom didn’t even know. He was away on a family vacation, one that shouldn’t have involved him in such an odd affair. He never sent you encrypted messages, and you had a gut instinct that something was wrong, but it was a mystery that you weren’t sure how to solve.

“Is everything alright?” Moneypenny asked, poking her head into your office the next day as you sat at your office chair, head in your hands, desperately wanting to somehow leave this paperwork behind to go to sleep and rest your mind. You sat up straight in your plush chair and cleared your throat.

“Yes, everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” You replied, biting back a yawn.

“You seem tired,” She trailed off while she stepped into the room, coming to stand in front of your desk, “And distracted.”

“Just had a bit of trouble sleeping peacefully is all.” You lied. You suspected by MI6’s general lack of acknowledgement towards Tom’s absence and email that you were the only one to have received the message.

“M is having a meeting in an hour with C and would like you to join him.” Moneypenny explained her appearance in your office before you could even ask.

“Lovely.” You gave her your best smile, and she chuckled lightly, seeing right through you.

“I would say you’re going to have to try a lot harder at being polite in front of C, but rumor has it he’s quite fond of you.” She teased you.

“Oh please, it’s all just politics.” You joked, “C has a thing for any woman in power, just like most of the 00’s. He infuriates me.”

You paired your comment with a roll of your eyes, pulling a proper laugh from your friend before you. He, honestly, was just as bad as the rest of them- cocky, immature, seeking attention, not afraid to pick a fight with you just to see you riled up. “Speaking of 00’s, 007 has been trying to reach you.”

“Great. I’ll be sure to get back to him,” You paused as if you were thinking of a time frame, “Never.”

“What ever happened to you two? You came back from that Goldfinger mission as the world’s best pair, and then one day-“

“We grew apart.” You said sharply and she pursed her lips, nodding her head a little.

“Well,” She made her to the door, “Keep your secrets then, 006.”

“That’s not my title anymore.” You reminded her, but still couldn’t help the smile that graced your face at the name. Moneypenny sent you a quick wink before stepping out of your door.

When the door clicked shut, you let out a breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding. Shaking your head, you turned back to your computer to refocus yourself on your work. You still needed to iron out a few details for Harry’s first mission, black market technology dealers in Japan. You were proud of your pupil, but you couldn’t maintain your focus on this project; your mind kept wandering back to Tom.

Pulling up a new encrypted tab, you accessed Tom’s message from last night. Being MI6’s assistant director had its perks, and accessing confidential documents under the radar was one of them. You ran the images he sent through the facial recognition system and waited anxiously for it to come back. Once the scan was complete, you looked through the files for any possible connections, but there were none— these men all had records in Spain yet they weren’t connected at all. They didn’t serve at the same prisons or even at the same times; there were no visible connections. Only one man was unidentifiable, but, with his back to Tom’s camera, his face was completely obscured. He may have been the leader of it all or he may have just simply been another gun-for-hire type like the rest of them; none of it made sense to you.

Next, you pulled up the search engine for MI6’s complete database. Typing in L’Americain, you hoped that maybe there was something. There were so many possibilities, but none of them were connected to these men or Spain or Tom. It’s like every single piece of information in the message was a dead end, and nothing felt more discouraging than having no clue what to do past this point. You checked the clock and realized it was time for your meeting with M and C. You quickly closed out of the encrypted message, keeping it as secretive as possible.

“Good afternoon, Agent Y/L/N.” M greeted you as soon as you stepped into his office. He sat at his desk, and Max Denbigh, also known as C, was across from him, reclined in one of the two office chairs.

“Good afternoon.” You replied, taking your seat besides C.

“We have reached an agreement with Nine Eyes about the merge.” M began, wasting no time in discussing the significant matters. “MI6 will merge with Nine Eyes in one week, effectively making British intelligence a prominent member of global security.”

“And what of the 00? What about our agents currently in the field?” You asked, mind flickering back to Harry’s impending mission.

“00’s are a thing of the past.” C stated in a solemn tone, but you could see the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “The world is changing. We don’t need men in suits running amok when technological security is the real future.”

You raised an eyebrow at his words. “00’s are the backbone of MI6 and British intelligence, and they are not just men, or have you forgotten that I’m a 00 agent too?”

“I thought you were retired from field work.” He replied. Your shoulders tightened at the bitter reminder that had slipped your own mind. You refrained from physically shaking your head to wash those thoughts away. As much as you hated it, he was right; you’re not a 00 agent anymore, you’re ‘retired from field work’.

“When the merge occurs,” M continued, passing off C’s comment, “then the 00’s will be recalled from field work. Agent 003 will be the last official agent.”

Before you could speak up about your concerns again, a phone began to ring and C stood up from his chair. He smiled politely at the two of you, “I really should take this, and I believe we have filled in Agent Y/L/N on the merge, so I’ll be going now.” And, without another word, he exited the room. You watched his retreating figure, eyeing the oddly anxious hand that clutched his phone.

“Agent Y/L/N,” M called your attention back to him, and you turned back to face him. You watched as he ever so slowly clicked off the recording device on his desk, the one used to ensure all his meetings are documented, “Have you heard anything from Agent Q?”

“No, sir.” You replied without a second thought.

“He was on holiday in Spain, and I was alerted this morning that his tracker was turned off.” He spoke slowly, watching for any reaction from you.

You swallowed a thick lump in your throat. The high-tech tracker was perhaps the most important device Tom had ever made. If removed from the agent, its location could still be found, but, if turned off completely, the agent’s either gone rogue or- well, you didn’t want to think of that other option. Considering the message from last night, though, you feared the worst.

“Agent Q was the highest ranking agent, next to you and me, meaning no one else knows of this information. I also received this note today.” M slid over a manila folder, labeled “Top Secret” across the top. 

Curiously, you opened it. There was a single piece of paper inside with a crude drawing of a kite. The paper simply read “Cuckoo”. You looked up at your superior, silently questioning what it meant.

“‘You’re a kite dancing in a hurricane’.” He said, “That’s what Oberhauser once told me.”

“Oberhauser? You mean-”

“The man behind S.P.E.C.T.R.E., the one that started it all. ‘Cuckoo’ is his calling card.” He paused, “I suspect Oberhauser- and therefore S.P.E.C.T.R.E.’s remains, are somehow connected to Agent Q’s disappearance.”

“But Oberhauser is dead, and Harrison and I stopped Goldfinger; we stopped S.P.E.C.T.R.E..” You stated in disbelief. Of all the possibilities of Tom’s disappearance, you never thought the notable and dead criminal organization would find its way back to you.

M shifted in his chair, nervously. “I’m afraid we can’t be certain of any of that now, but, if he has somehow returned, we must be prepared; Oberhauser would want a game. Q’s disappearance couldn’t have come at a more intense time with the Nine Eyes merge next week. I know you, Y/L/N, and I know Q has told you something about this, something that has made you itch since you’ve arrived here this morning. But you cannot go after him. I need you here with me. Trust is thin right now, and I can’t afford to lose any more agents. Do you understand?” There was a stiff seriousness in the air as he spoke. His cold eyes looking at you with a newfound intensity, as if he was studying you.

“I understand.” You nodded, biting your tongue as you did so. Slowly, you stood from the chair and made your way out of the room without another word.

As you made your way back into your office, you felt the weight of the situation begin to settle uneasily in you. You knew the delicateness of MI6’s current state, struggling for control with Nine Eyes while getting thrust into the wide spectrum of global cyber intelligence. And then there was Tom, your close friend and MI6’s technological genius, who was currently missing, and now you’ve been told to abandon any thought of rescuing him. It made your stomach twist in guilt, but M was right— Britain needed you here, not chasing L’Americain and other ghost trails for Tom.

That night, you stopped by your favorite takeout place on your way home, seeking some sort of comfort food. You were exhausted by the time you got home and were completely set on just helping yourself to some food and watching TV. You placed your takeout bag on the counter and unloaded its contents. 

You reached for a clean plate from your drying rack and spotted a dark figure behind you through the reflection on the sink faucet. Maintaining your cool, you grabbed the plate and a knife and fork from the rack, setting the plate and fork down in front of you. You felt the floorboard bend behind you, and, with one hand clutching the knife, you grabbed the arm of the mystery figure with your free hand and twisted it. Turning, you swept your feet under his, and he fell flat on the ground. Straddling his torso, you threateningly pressed the blade of the knife to his neck before you realized who it was, which only made you tighten your grip on the knife.

“I see you still know how to show a man a good time.” Harrison stated, chuckling almost nervously.

“And would you look at that- I’m still on top.” You said as you let go of him and stood up from on top of him. You went back to dishing up your dinner, “What do you want?”

“You say that like I can’t just stop by and visit you.” He got up from the floor and rubbed his wrist a little, sore from you twisting it so aggressively before.

“Why did you break into my apartment and sneak up on me?” You rephrased your original question. 

“It’s not breaking in if I still have a key. You really should change your locks.” Harrison came to stand by you at the counter while you avoided his eyes. Ready to make himself at home, he reached for a spare plate, one hand leaning on your kitchen towel. You stabbed your knife down onto the towel, right between his fingers, and he took that as your wordless threat to not touch your food. You grabbed your plate and sat down at your small dinner table, ready to eat your meal. Harrison’s eyes wandered around the room as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. His eyes landed on the steak knife in the dartboard on the wall.

“Got a thing for knives now?” He asked, pulling the knife off the dartboard. He set the knife in the sink, before looking at you curiously, “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m not sanctioned to carry a gun, not as assistant director.” You said quietly. “Now, what the hell do you want?”

“Right. Anyway, it’s Tom.” Harrison leaned on the counter across from you, watching as you froze a little at the mention of your mutual friend. “He sent me an email last night-”

“L’Americain.” You stated, looking him in the eye for the first time since you so unceremoniously threw him on the ground. “I got the same message.”

Harrison seemed to light up hopefully at your words, “Good, so you can run some tests and figure out-”

“MI6 has no record of L’Americain. It’s not a place or a person or even a classified object. I have just as much intel on the matter as you.”

“And the men? In the photos?”

“They’ve all got criminal records in Spain, but, besides that, nothing. They don’t have connections to each other. L’Americain is a dead end for now.” You said, taking a bite of your dinner in hopes to end the conversation. It was silent for a moment, and you hoped that meant this was it, but then Harrison spoke up again.

“I’m going to Spain,” He paused, “and Harry’s coming with me.”

“Harry has his first mission across the world tomorrow. He cannot go to Spain.” You stated, and Harrison sighed, taking a seat beside you at your dinner table. You continued to eat your meal, doing your best to act unaffected by his close presence.

“He cares more about his brother than his mission. We need to find L’Americain and find Tom. Come with us, you know you want to.” Harrison encouraged.

“I can’t, and you shouldn’t either.”

“And why not? Tom’s my best friend—“ He began, and you cut him off.

“It’s dangerous.” You said, looking back at your food to avoid his striking eyes.

“Dangerous? Do you not remember what it’s like to be out there in the field?” Harrison questioned, standing up from his seat and walking around the table until he was in front of you, while you just simply continued on with your dinner. 

“I remember. M needs me here with him. Trust is thin right now, and he can’t afford to lose any more agents.” You fed him the same lines your superior had told you.

“You’re really just going to do nothing? You’re not even going to try to go save our friend? Our friend, who's the reason that we’re alive today?” He stepped back from the table, eyeing you suspiciously. You just nodded in response before slowly lifting your head to look at him. The moment your eyes saw his blue ones staring intensely back at you, you realized your mistake. Harrison could tell- he could see right through the facade and knew exactly how vulnerable you were.

“I’m not going to Spain.” You repeated, not breaking the stare. You watched as his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. He let out a deep sigh before making his way to the door.

“Plane leaves at 1 tomorrow.” Harrison turned and gave you one final look before he left out the door, slamming it shut with more force than necessary.

You sunk back into your chair, shutting your eyes as you tried to steady your racing heart. You stayed like that for a few moments, until your mind felt at ease. When your eyes opened, they landed on the single postcard that was tacked to the wall in front of you, right beside the Italy themed calendar that had been left on an image of Venice from four months ago.

The Paris postcard seemed to glare at you as it read in golden, swirly letters “Thinking of you in the City of Love”. You didn’t even need to look at the back of it to know that a red 007 was signed on the other side.

Knowing what you needed to do, you let out a groan, “Damn you, Harrison.”

~~~

General Tag List: @viagracex​​​ @theamazingtomholland​ @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart​ @joyleenl​ @t-o-m-holland​ @lonikje​ @sleepybesson​ @sunkisseddreamer​ @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh​ @gorillaglue23 @petersoftboyparker @musicalkeys

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland​ @where-art-thau-romeo​

Original Series Tag List: @quinjetboi @baby-haz @kickingn-ames @rougese7en @hollandsosterfield @nj01​ @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @spencerreidxoxo @duskholland​

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

📰 Mon 13 April 😴

Rumors continue to fly about reunion speculation, fed by cynical radio stations tweeting garbage with authority. Page Six adds to this by publishing an article reporting all the same hysterical blown up hearsay as fact. Actual things of potential interest: Liam a few months ago said something about the possibility of a documentary for the reunion and recently said the band were in touch and working on something. The article randomly mentions that they're still close to Ben Winston (I KNOW... sighhhhh), the combination makes some sort of documentary type content seem even more likely. The article says that a 'source close to management' says "There’s still a long way to go and a lot of hurdles. Obviously, at the moment anything they do would have to be done virtually. But there’s a lot of good will between them now and they want to make something happen." Things that are still untrue no matter how many times people repeat it, even in print: the One Direction website has not been "reactivated" it was never inactive, the One Direction twitter lists are in no way new, and no one refollowed anyone's accounts because they never unfollowed, this stuff all gets said every few months and in fact I'm just gonna get out there ahead of you since this one is constantly coming back around: the tour tab on Zayn's site was already there, it isn't new. Even that crappy article says right out that "a tour is ruled out" as if they had some special knowledge and not just the basic news-following skills necessary to understand that, painful as it is to acknowledge, no one is going to be touring this summer.

Liam's Killing It interview (it's a podcast about mental health and the music industry) is out and it is, as you could probably guess, A LOT. As always, if you're someone who wants to try to understand what things were like for them in the band, you want to listen to Liam's interviews! Anyway he says the biggest challenge for them in the band was the extreme physical exhaustion they suffered at almost all times and how it made it impossible to think clearly about anything, comments on how fucked up it is that that was happening while their brains were still developing, says that by the end he was drunk "probably 90% of the time." He talks about having the tendency to try to please others rather than figure out what he wanted and that working out was what he found that he felt like was for himself, and about "giving [himself] the gift of trusting [his] own instincts" but also says, "if you are your own soundboard, you're going to disagree with whatever you say anyway because that's how it works." He says he's learned to make his end goal happiness rather than achievements, which I love for him. While I'm sure it's a work in progress it's a great goal. He also talks about Zayn for a good few minutes towards the end, about his performance related anxiety and how he's just recording music now.

Niall agonized over choosing just one song for today's challenge, 'a song from the seventies', played a bit of his choice (Thin Lizzy) on guitar for us, played a bit of I'm On Fire (the sultry Niall content continues) and shared a recipe and its finished product. Well. He didn't actually share his lamb burgers with us but pictures of them! Actually a lot of food pics today, including his exactly three (3) asparagus spears ("legends!") and he said he'd explain the Heartbreak Weather storyline on his next live which would be very good content if true! The Late Late Show dropped a video bit of him playing golf around the office and set of which the best part is him referencing Happy Gilmore, I'm honestly astonished he doesn't constantly quote that movie.

Twitter had a "1D Online Concert" at home streaming party and trended the tags all day.

[yuta-nakamots]

Beautiful Time - h.rj ; Part 1 of 6

Pairing - Vampire!Renjun x Reader

Genre - Fluff? (with a tiny bit of angst)

Warnings - Mentions of blood

Summary - Vampires are creatures forced to walk upon the earth for longer than humans could possibly imagine. One would think it gets boring after a while, but not to Renjun, the foreign exchange student who seems to know a little too much about the early twentieth century.

Word Count - 2.5k

A/N - this chapter was a littler shorter and slower than I expected but I promise things will really start to pick up in the next chapter

It was your last first day of high school. Your day couldn’t get any better, having returned from summer break ready to see all your friends again. You were happy with your schedule along with the people in your classes, you knew your senior year was going to go just fine.

By the time lunch came around, you were already starting to feel exhausted from meeting your new teachers and keeping track of the assignments they had already given out, but you still had one more class left to attend which was history. World history from the early 1900s to be exact.

You sit in the middle of the room next to your friends, you guys ending your conversation as the teacher begins introductions. About halfway through, your teacher is interrupted by the door opening followed by the entrance of a boy who you presume to be one of your new classmates. The neatly ironed school uniform looking very flattering on his body, the dark maroon color of it complimenting his bleached blonde hair.

“Oh! Sorry for interrupting! My name is Huang Renjun, I’m an exchange student from Seoul, South Korea. Nice to meet you all.” His voice sounded so soothing and his pronunciation was so natural, you wouldn’t even have thought he was a foreign student. You didn’t miss the way his gaze held yours as he scanned the room for a place to sit down, the only seats being the few that were open on the far side of the room, next to you and your friends.

Ever since that first day, Renjun has continued to sit next to your group of friends and they grew to like him and included him in any group assignments that were given out. You noticed that Renjun wasn’t a talker though he liked to spout little interesting history facts and details every so often, like how the First Lady of the United States had 80 Japanese cherry trees planted alongside the Potomac River in 1912. You didn’t think much of it since the class itself was about history, you only assumed that Renjun had a special knack for it.

The first time you really get to speak to him is during a class field trip to the museum. You wanted to go look at the Renaissance paintings for both humor and educational reasons, however, your friends would rather stay in the gift shop. You weren’t allowed to go off on your own so you pouted and tried to reason with one of them to go with you, almost giving up until you felt someone tap your shoulder. “Y/n I can go with you if you want.” You turn around, finding Renjun standing behind you wearing a large pink hoodie with black jeans, sipping on the drink he was holding. You give him a grateful smile before telling your friends that you’d be leaving the gift shop.

“So tell me why you wanted to go look at Renaissance paintings so badly” Renjun said, letting out a slight laugh as he looked at The Creation of Adam.

You rolled your eyes before responding, “they’re funny...that and the fact that you can see a lot of emotion and stories being portrayed behind them, especially during such an odd era of time. Some of them are also just nice to look at” you told him, gesturing at the Girl With A Pearl Earring.

“I may not know much about the Renaissance but I’ve always heard that it was the start of modern art so I guess I’m quite thankful for it” he said, his words trailing off towards the end.

You nodded to show your agreement. “It really is interesting to see where modern art originated from and how much it’s changed from its start” you mused, a smile appearing on your face as you walked over to The Last Supper.

“Time truly is a beautiful thing” Renjun remarked as he followed you.

“It is, isn’t it?” You looked over at Renjun who was busy posing as the different people in the paintings, both of you laughing as you quickly chose a person as well, joining Renjun and his antics.

As the semester went by, you and Renjun often found yourselves working on projects together. After the day at the museum, you had started talking to him a lot more during class and found that he was actually pretty funny. When it came to your projects, he was always responsible, making sure to do his part while also making sure you did yours. He had some of the most interesting ideas like when he proposed making your own historical-looking marble bust and you laughed at him saying that it would take far too long while he gave you a questioning look back as if daring you to bet on it.

Eventually, the time came for the large final project of the semester, which you were glad was a group project as well, eagerly agreeing with Renjun when he asked if you’d like to be his partner. You and Renjun had decided that your topic would be various art forms throughout World War II and spent a whole lot of time going through different resources to find images of paintings, old written letters and poems, newspapers, recordings of songs, and anything of the sort. Finding that this project was going to be a lot more complicated than expected, you ask if you could possibly meet up somewhere to work on it together. Renjun suggests a cute cafe that both of you enjoy going to and you arrive there around 5pm. Luckily, it’s Friday so that means you can stay out a little later and continue to work on your project, but what you don’t expect is for time to go by so quickly. “Oh wow, it’s already dark out” you observed as you leaned back to stretch in your seat.

Renjun looked up from his laptop, only just noticing the darkness as well, “It is winter so I guess it makes sense for it to be getting dark sooner” he reasoned. “Do you want to go to your house to continue working on this? We can go to my place too if you want, I just don’t want to keep you out too late because I know it can get a little sketch at night.”

“Whichever one of our places is closer is fine” you say, not wanting to have to walk further than you have to. The two of you playfully bicker, trying to figure out who lives closer to the cafe until Renjun gives up and plugs both of your addresses into the maps app, showing that Renjun does indeed live closer to the cafe than you.

The walk to Renjun’s place was surprisingly pleasant. The weather was comfortably warm and the sky was clear, the sun having just set, coloring it a warm orange hue. Your conversation with Renjun flowed easily like the breeze blowing through the tree leaves.

“What’s it like to live alone in a foreign country?”

“Ah, it’s really nice here, I enjoy being away from home. It’s like a breath of fresh air,” he told you, “I don’t live alone though, I have one other roommate who’s in the same transfer program as me though he goes to a different school.”

“Oh? Are you close to him or were you just assigned to live together?”

“I guess you can say we’re pretty close,” he said, guiding you into the lobby of a tall apartment complex, “He spends more time together with his friends from school rather than with me, but I don’t mind. I like our school.”

His apartment was surprisingly clean for housing two boys and it was well decorated too, various paintings adorning the walls along with succulents sitting on shelves nicely spaced out around the main room. You and Renjun settle down on opposite ends of the couch in the living room, continuing the work you were doing at the cafe. Another two hours pass in almost near silence, only broken when the two of you are discussing details about your project or when Renjun asks how you’ll be getting home.

“I called my mom to pick me up around 9, don’t worry about it” you told him, thanking him for his thoughtfulness.

“Oh, it’s almost 9 already though. We should start wrapping up” he said, going through the open tabs on his computer, making sure all your work was saved. You repacked your belongings, standing up to leave. Renjun follows you, wanting to walk you down and wait with you until your mother arrives, though before either of you can reach the door, it opens, revealing the purple-haired boy who opened it.

You froze, taking in the appearance of the stranger, looking almost normal if it weren’t for his bright red lips and the fangs protruding from his smile. You backed up, bumping into Renjun as the stranger took a step inside.

“Haechan, what are you doing?” Renjun exclaimed, his arm wrapping around your shoulders protectively.

“Introducing myself to the pretty lady,” the purple-haired boy said before turning to you, “hi princess, my name’s Haechan, don’t forget it.” You swore you could see red in Haechan’s eyes but you looked down out of fear and you shrink further into Renjun’s hold, your shaking hand coming up to grip the back of his shirt. “So is she your little snack or what?” You were utterly mortified, the smell of blood reaching your nose the longer Haechan stood in front of you.

You looked up at Renjun, almost screaming when you saw he too suddenly had the same fangs Haechan did, though you didn’t dare look into his eyes. All of your instincts telling you to run, but your legs were too weak, you felt rooted to the floor, not wanting to believe the sight before you. “No, Haechan, she is not a snack. This is y/n, and you will leave her alone” he said, putting extra emphasis on the ‘will’ as if giving Haechan a command.

“Ah, so this is that girl you keep talking about, the one that’s your-”

“Haechan!” Renjun exclaimed, his grip on your shoulder becoming tighter.

Haechan raised his hands in defense, “Hey, hey, I’m just trying to get things moving, lover boy.” The smell of blood reaching your nose the longer Haechan was in front of you.

Renjun scoffs before telling Haechan to leave, to which he whines, “but what if I want to get to know her too?”

“There will be another time and place for that, but not right now Haechan” Renjun said, practically seething with irritation.

Haechan pouts before leaning against the doorframe. “Jaemin went nuts after feeding so he’s staying at my place and needs a change of clothes.”

Renjun groaned out of frustration before allowing Haechan in, not moving as Haechan walked past the two of you down the hallway, opening the door of what you presume to be Renjun's roommate, Jaemin’s room.

You had practically smashed your entire body against Renjun’s out of fear, not noticing how tightly you were clinging onto him until Haechan was out of sight. Renjun brought himself to stand in front of you with his head down, his hands resting on the sides of your shoulders, lightly squeezing them to calm you down. When he brings his head up to meet your gaze, you expected to see the same red-tinted eyes accompanied by the fangs you saw now too long ago, but instead, you’re greeted by a pair of dark brown eyes and an apologetic fangless smile.

“Y/n, I’m really sorry about that. I know it’s a lot to process right now, but please promise me you won’t run off until I tell you everything” Renjun said, looking into your eyes for a sign of affirmation. You slowly nod, not knowing how this situation could get any worse.

Renjun let out a sigh and squeezed your shoulders again before starting, “I think you already know, but...I’m...not human, and what Haechan said earlier about you...you’re special to me...You’re my, uh, mate...I know it’s a lot to take in all at once and I’m sorry I had to tell you like this. If only Haechan didn’t show up, I was planning to wait a little longer and tell you differently, I’m so so so sorry, just please don’t run away from me y/n” Renjun said, his words coming at you faster than you could process them.

You stared at him in shock, not knowing what to say or how to respond at all. Renjun was your classmate that you barely knew much about. Yes, he was your friend who you worked on many projects with, but aside from that, you knew nothing about him. You stood there, unmoving and you tried to piece together sentences in your head before responding to him, eventually giving up and just letting your thoughts come out.

“Look, Renjun, thank you for not trying to kill me yet, but I’m just...really overwhelmed right now. I don’t know what to say to you or how to react to being your mate, I don’t even know if I can believe that or not, I don’t even know if I can believe that vampires are real-”

“Y/n, I can show you-”

“No Renjun, I don’t want to see anything right now. I just want to go home. I need time to think...But for now, we are only classmates. I don’t want to talk to you unless it’s about the project. I’m sorry but please just respect me this once and give me time.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Renjun, too shaken up from all the information he had just thrown at you.

“Okay, I understand. Can I at least make sure you get picked up safely?” he asked, his hands leaving your shoulders. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak anymore.

You let yourself out of his apartment, Renjun only following you like a shadow. He keeps at least an arm’s length of space between the two of you at all times and he doesn’t take his sight off of you until you’re in your mom’s car, putting on your seatbelt. Once you’re gone, Renjun makes his way back to his unit, his thoughts going wild in his head, running at a thousand miles per hour.

He’s worried about you and what you’re thinking, not knowing whether you’ll come back to him or not, he’s beyond upset at Haechan for barging in and creating this whole mess, but he’s disappointed at himself for not being able to control the situation better.

He walks into his apartment to Haechan waiting for him on the couch, “guessing it didn’t go too well, huh” he says to Renjun.

Renjun only groans out of pure anger and frustration, heading to his room and slamming the door, but not before telling Haechan to “get the fuck out.”

A/N - this chapter was a littler shorter and slower than I expected but I promise things will really start to pick up in the next chapter

@nct-writers​

[braveskyered]

Dames Special - Winter Holidays 2

It is highly recommended that you read Knights before reading this, otherwise you may miss some context.

SPOILER WARNING!

This reveals heavy spoilers for Knights, if you have not read Knights up to Part 14 and onward, please turn away now. Otherwise, read at your own risk.

SPOILER WARNING!

-

Lance misses his nephew.

He remembered the day he took Arthur in with open arms, taking the time to help him through his trauma of being thrown away from the failures that called themselves his parents. To help distract Arthur, Lance had started showing him the trade of repairing cars and his general work at his repair shop. He couldn’t help but smile slightly at the warm memory of Arthur happily working alongside him once he started to become more confident.

He took a drink.

“Still no luck in finding him?”

The sound of the mug slamming down on the table is his answer.

“…I’ll get you some water, sir.”

Lance is thankful that the bartender knew how to read the mood.

He should’ve known what was happening. That Arthur was unhappy, that he was suffering, that he was being abused and blamed for something that wasn’t even his fault. That boy had a rough life. From the unhappy childhood, his parents going through that awful divorce, to living with his uncle, and now…

Lance knew for a fact that he had failed Arthur as his uncle.

Eight months ago, Arthur, his nephew, his boy, had disappeared from Tempo. Lance was the last person to see him.

“Lance, please,” Arthur had set Galahad’s cage aide on a nearby table and looked at him in the eye, “I need this. I just, I just want to be able to think about things without anyone saying anything. I just need some time away from here. I just…” His breath hitched, “I need a break, Lance. Please. I’ll even call you once I reach my destination.”

Lance never did get that phone call.

He looked up at the TV hanging from the corner of the bar that was channeled to the local news station. Things that happen in Tempo are usually pretty uneventful, but now, as of late…

Two More Bodies in Serial Suicides – Reported to Have Similar Nightmares

It has disturbed Lance to think that Arthur could be among the dead, but from what the police had told him, his nephew has not been identified among the victims. He turned away from the TV and took another sip of the beer he had been drinking. Hopefully that bartender will be back with the water soon.

I’ll be home for Christmas… You can plan on me…

The sound of Christmas music started playing once the news ran its piece, which caused Lance to actually notice the décor around the bar itself. Honestly, it didn’t improve his mood one bit. If anything, Lance would rather have a Christmas like the one he had last year compared to this.

While last year’s Christmas wasn’t the best, it still had Arthur in it, even though it was mainly him going through treatments and physical therapy after the loss of his arm.

“Your water, sir.”

The bartender finally came back with the water, which Lance welcomed.

Please have snow and mistletoe, and presents by the tree…

Lance didn’t recall hearing this version before. Slow lyrics, gentles tunes without a beat, was it supposed to sound this sad? Well, if one were to consider the origins of the song, I’ll Be Home for Christmas…

Christmas Eve will find me, where love light gleams… I’ll be home for Christmas…

“If only in my dreams.”

Lance didn’t sing along to it, but the words did resonate with him. Tomorrow, this would be the first Christmas without his nephew ever since he took the boy in. A part of him held on to the vain hope that Arthur would come home, but with him being missing for eight months now, the chances of him being found are almost second to none according to what the police had told him.

He paid his tab and started to walk his way home.

When he returned to Kingsmen Mechanics, Lance looked over the parking lot, expecting to see his nephew waiting for him at the entrance, holding a gift or even just waiving to him.

But Arthur is nowhere to be seen.

He clenched his fists and furrowed his brow. Ever since Arthur left, things in Tempo have gone straight to hell in more ways than one. The demon that ruined Arthur and the fragile bonds the boy had, that made everyone except Lance and probably Vivi turn against him, that caused the series of events that made everything from bad to worse… and most, if not everyone in Tempo, know what happened.

Lance shoved the imagery of what happened to the Peppers out of his mind. Although they’ve lived to tell the tale, Joe and Lokia Pepper obviously didn’t deserve what happened to them, but a part of Lance felt that it was well deserved, as sickening as the thought is. The Yukino family didn’t suffer as much, but their reputations did take a nosedive of sorts. Not even the cranky old lady that managed to seal Lewis in his home on the outskirts were exempt.

The townspeople are suffering from awful nightmares. Nightmares of such painful degree that some of the more desperate would rather end their own lives instead of trying to seek out help, or maybe to escape from it. Those that keep going are disgusted with what the Yukino and Pepper families have done, which involved kickstarting the series of events that made their lives so hellish

Oddly, Lance himself never had the nightmares. Instead it’s just the sad dreams of seeing his nephew crying. Sometimes Arthur would be a little boy crying over a scraped knee or something minor, a young teenager upset about being abandoned by his parents, a young adult trying to keep it together while enduring so much undeserved punishment, or just Arthur in general wanting to end it all.

Throughout all these dreams, Lance is unable do anything to comfort him. He couldn’t protect Arthur, let alone hold him or even just say that everything will be okay.

And it’s not.

In contrast, business at Kingsmen Mechanics had been somewhat booming ever since Arthur left, but Lance would give up his shop in a heartbeat if it meant getting his nephew back. But until then, he will keep the place going. Other than making the bed, cleaning the dust off of Galahad’s long empty cage, and cleaning up some stray parts from the desk and placing them in boxes to keep them from getting lost, Lance kept his nephew’s room exactly how he left it.

Should Arthur ever be found, he will have a place to return to. However, if by some chance Arthur is found in peace elsewhere, Lance will most likely just pack his bags and join him just so he can be there for his nephew.

Eventually, Lance reached the front door of his shop that doubled as his home. Reaching for the key in his pocket, his eyes trailed over to the mailbox. He didn’t remember the last time he checked the mail earlier this week, so after unlocking the door, he looked through his mailbox and found a few envelopes. The first one that appeared in his sight happened to be a utility bill much to Lance’s annoyance.

Shivering, Lance entered the shop and locked the door behind him and checked to see if the closed sign is on. Nodding to himself, he moved further inside to reach the kitchen. A mug of hot cocoa will probably do him some good to warm up.

After Lance set the kettle of water on the stove to get it to boil, he looked through the thick stack of mail that had accumulated on the kitchen table, not counting the few he had collected just earlier. One of his employees had the grace to sort through the mail for him. A pile for bills, a separate one for solicitations, and anything that didn’t fit either were in its own category.

Sorting through the mail, Lance carefully looked through the bills and saw that all the medical bills for Arthur had been paid off somehow. He didn’t know why, but he figured that Arthur had something to do with it when he saw a patent on one design of the prosthetic arm he made in another envelope. The bills that are linked to the utilities of both his home and Kingsmen Mechanics show that the automatic payments are still going on, so Lance kept them for record’s sake after writing the dates on the envelopes themselves.

The solicitations were just basic things. Roof repair, gardening (why that’s there when his property is almost nothing but sand and cacti is beyond him), suggestions for hospice care even though he’s nowhere near ready to kick the bucket, and then one about some local election for some event he didn’t care about.

The final pile only had three envelopes. Two of them were Christmas cards from some friends of his out of state, while the last one is… odd. He flipped the envelope back and forth. It has the shop’s name and address written by hand, but no return address to be seen. He looked back at the address, and upon looking at it more carefully, he saw that the “i” in the “Kingsmen” had been dotted with a tiny star.

He immediately ripped open the envelope and started to read with shaky hands.

-

Hey, Lance,

I hope you’re doing okay.

I’m sorry for leaving, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Even though I’m sure you want to, but please don’t look for me.

It took a lot of self-convincing for me to do this, but I want to let you know that I’m all right. I have my own place to live and I even found a job to keep the roof over my head, so you don’t need to worry about me. I’m safe at where I am. I’m okay. Galahad is fine, too.

I won’t be able to get a reply from you, but I hope that this will be enough to put you at ease at the very least.

Merry Christmas, Uncle Lance.

- Arthur Kingsmen

- - - - - - -

“…Ah! There we go.”

She smiled in satisfaction once she saw the concoction before her reach the desired consistency. Dipping the ladle into the pot, she scooped out the liquid and poured it into a small group of mugs before adding the whip cream and marshmallows.

“They’re ready, Dad!”

“Wonderful,” her father, Tom, stepped into view and placed all of the mugs on a tray, “You always make the best hot chocolate, Elaine.”

“You’re the one who taught me how to make it,” Elaine laughed before realizing, “Oh, leave two of them behind.”

“True, but you have that kind of touch that I don’t. And sure,” Tom chuckled, did as Elaine asked and started to walk away, “You mother said the turkey should be ready in the next ten minutes.”

“Okay, thanks.”

After making sure the stove is off, Elaine took the two mugs and walked into the living room.

Elaine is currently in Mama Vivienne’s home celebrating Christmas with her family. Even though the Knights family never considered themselves religious, they still celebrated the occasion as a time of togetherness and maybe exchanging a gift or two. Although not everyone came, her parents, aunt and uncle, and her cousin with her own little family, were enough in her opinion. Less drama that way, she thinks.

It’s a shame Nana Niniane couldn’t stay for very long, but she had her reasons, Elaine figures.

She wondered if Eleanor should’ve have stayed home, since her cousin is currently pregnant with her second child. At least Eleanor has her husband with her should anything happen.

Instead of approaching any of her family members, Elaine instead walked over to where her boyfriend is. She saw him sitting on one of the old sofas, looking out the window behind him that showed the world outside with a lost expression.

The two of them have been dating for about three or four months now. Then again, calling it dating would be a bit of a stretch. It’s more of Elaine gradually asking Arthur to join her in little activities and making him feel included as per Mama Vivienne’s suggestions. That boy needs to get out of his apartment every once in a while, to get some sunshine, she once said.

“Hey, Arthur,” Elaine gently announced herself to catch his attention, feeling a little bad at having startled him, “I made you some hot chocolate.”

Arthur looked at her before directing his gaze at the mug held out to him. He just stared with a blank look before finally blinking in realization.

“Thank you,” he said as he accepted the mug from her, “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” Elaine said as she sat down next to him, “It’s snowing pretty hard out, isn’t it?”

“It’s definitely something I’m not quite used to seeing yet,” Arthur shivered as he rubbed at his left shoulder with his free hand, “Or feeling, I should say.”

Elaine hummed in acknowledgement as she sipped at her hot cocoa. She knew that Arthur used to live in Texas, which isn’t exactly known to have heavy snow, let alone snow in general. She felt a pang of pity when she realized that Arthur is bundled up a bit more warmly that she is. A turtleneck sweater and a somewhat thicker vest just to stay warm.

“Are the phantom pains bothering you?”

“Not really, the medication your grandmother helped me get is doing wonders. It’s just so cold.”

“Well, that hot chocolate ought to warm you right up,” Elaine smirked with amusement, “Drink it before it gets cold.”

Seeing Arthur grin is such a treasure in Elaine’s opinion. She wished she had a camera with her to capture the moment.

“It’s good,” Arthur said softly as he looked into the mug, “I think this is the best I’ve ever had. I just wish my uncle could have this with us.”

Elaine was about to straighten herself with pride before noticing the melancholy in Arthur’s voice and hearing the mention of his family.

“It’s funny,” he looked out the window again, “This would be my first Christmas without him. I guess I now understand why I’ll Be Home for Christmas is so sad.”

“We could call him,” Elaine gently suggested, “Wish him a Merry Christmas. Or a Happy Holidays.”

“I would, but I can’t,” Arthur smiled sadly and shivered, “If I did, they’ll find me. I don’t want to get dragged back there. Not even my uncle could stop them.”

…

Just how horrible was the person that did such emotional damage to this kind man? So much that he couldn’t allow himself to even get into contact with his family?

“I hope my letter got to him.”

Elaine chose to remain quiet.

I hope so, too.

- - - - - - -

P. S. – If all goes well, I might be able to write to you more often. Don’t tell anyone about these letters, okay?

-

Lance reread the words again. And again.

This is definitely Arthur’s handwriting. The little details that Arthur left on both the envelope and the letter itself proved it. To think that his nephew remembered the little code that Lance had taught him. Dotting the occasional “I” with a small star, the curve of the T’s and the K’s…

The note is genuine in what it’s saying.

In a sense, a part of Arthur did come home for Christmas.

But for Arthur himself to be here…

“If only in my dreams…”

Lance could only shed tears as he gingerly picked up the letter like it was Arthur himself.

[recurring-polynya]

Love your writing! Renruki prompt: Married!RenRuki get into a fight and Renji's acting all gloomy when he goes to work the next day. He accidentally~ shares his woes with Byakuya.

Ahhh, I am not good at writing fights!! I think I am on the record as to saying that I think Renji and Rukia only fight over stupid shit, and I had a heck of a time figuring out something for them to fight over. Anyway, I did my best, at very least, this contains a lot of Byakuya Being Byakuya.

💔   💔   💔

“I think it’s in here, sir,” Third Seat Yuki explained, leading Byakuya into the Officer’s Lounge. “On second thought, you wait out here, I’ll bring it.”

Sixth Seat Taniguchi was sprawled on the floor, groaning. Rikichi stepped over him, and looked around. Fifth Seat Kuchiki had his leg propped up on a table, a bag of ice on his knee. Seventh Seat Shirogane and Fourth Seat Kuchiki were leaning against each other on the couch, snoring in unison. Rikichi picked his way toward the couch and poked Shirogane in the arm. “Hey! Hey, Shirogane! What happened to the training reports on the first-years?”

“Eh?” Shirogane asked, sitting up. “Training reports, right.” She shoved Kuchiki to one side, and extracted a thick binder, bristling with colored tabs from the depths of the couch. It was barely in Yuki’s hand before she was slumped against Kuchiki again.

“Found it!” Rikichi announced cheerfully, waving the binder and picking his way carefully back out.

“What… happened?” Byakuya asked gingerly. “It is not usually like this, is it?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Rikichi replied. “There was sparring after morning drills.”

“Everyone must have had an excess of enthusiasm, to have worn each other out so,” Byakuya observed. He was a bit sorry to have missed it. A spirited affray sounded much more entertaining than the interminable breakfast meeting with Lord Noragashi he had endured.

“Er, not exactly,” Rikichi excused, rubbing the back of his neck. “When I said ‘sparring’, what I meant was, ‘Vice-Captain made everyone fight him.’ He was in a bit of a mood this morning.”

“I... see,” Byakuya drew out. It had been quite some time since Abarai had felt the need to pummel his way through the top ranks. Byakuya had hoped it was a sign that the top officers were improving, but apparently, it had just been the recent improvement in his lieutenant’s disposition. Disappointing. “Any indication as to what precipitated this sudden bout of pugnacity?”

Rikichi paused and glanced around. “I think he might have had a tiff with the missus,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Byakuya arched an eyebrow.

💔   💔   💔

Byakuya pretended to be deeply engaged by the newest edition of the Standards for Disposition of Historically Significant Hauntings while taking occasionally surreptitious glances at his adjutant. He needn’t have bothered with the covertness, Abarai was clearly too tightly wrapped up in his own misery to have any sort of situational awareness.

The thunderstorm of ire that had possessed the man earlier had passed, leaving behind a drizzle of gloomy resignation. Abarai had dragged his brush half-heartedly across his paperwork for a while, but now all he could manage was to stare out the window listlessly.

Byakuya was not a nosy man and clearly, this was none of his business. In fact, he ought to chide his subordinate for this childlike behavior. However, Byakuya hesitated. This could very well be pertinent to his sister’s happiness. Now that Rukia no longer resided with him, how was he to know her daily mood, her overall humor? If there had been a row, surely Abarai was the one at fault. It was practically Byakuya’s duty as a brother to discern what had passed between them.

“Lieutenant,” he said sternly.

Renji seemed to come to himself suddenly, and straightened in his seat. “Yessir!”

“You seem out of sorts this morning.”

Abarai swallowed. “Sorry, sir! I don’t… I’ll do better, sir!”

Byakuya folded his hands. “Obviously, I expect only the strictest of professionalism from you, as always, Lieutenant, but you know that I care for your well-being. We are family now. If you have a problem you wish to talk through, you know that I am an excellent listener.”

Abarai’s face was overcome with what was obviously great emotion at this generosity. “Er… it’s nothing, sir. Really.” He grabbed his brush and began writing with great vigor.

Curses. That hadn’t worked at all. “Rukia is in good health, I trust? All is proceeding accordingly?” Perhaps there had been a disagreement regarding their pending offspring. Perhaps Abarai had suggested a ridiculous given name, which Rukia, in her wisdom, had rejected.

Abarai’s eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, yeah. Same as, uh, yesterday, when you asked.”

“You seemed distressed. I wondered if perhaps she had fallen ill.”

“Oh, no, nothin’ like that. She’s actually been feelin’ a little better lately.” He fiddled with his brush and looked back down at his paperwork for a moment. “Look, sir, can I ask your opinion on something?”

“Of course,” Byakuya replied, carefully keeping his face in its usual, disinterested mien, despite the fact that he was, in fact, very interested.

Abarai nodded slowly. “Okay, so, imagine there’s two people, see, a boy and a girl, kids like.”

“I can imagine it.”

“And they grow up together and they fall in love, right? But it’s hard for them to tell each other that, because they’ve been friends a long time. And they drift apart, it’s not looking good for either of them, but then the boy writes the girl a poem. It’s not a very good poem, it’s about how tall he’s gotten, not a great call on his part, but the girl goes for it, and she writes this lucky bastard a poem back.”

Byakuya nodded slowly. As usual, Abarai’s storytelling was circuitous and only dubiously coherent. Byakuya was familiar with the basics of Rukia and Renji’s courtship, although he hadn’t known poetry had played such a key role. He found that rather charming, actually.

“It works out,” Abarai continued on, “and they get married. Now, this woman is basically perfect. She’s beautiful, loyal, loving, the whole package. On the other hand, the guy is a real piece of work. He clearly does not deserve her.”

“I am following,” Byakuya nodded.

“So he’s a huge jerk, he doesn’t know what he’s got, and he cheats on her.”

Wait, what? “Excuse me?” Byakuya echoed.

“It doesn’t make any sense, but that’s what you get for marrying a guy who writes you a poem, I guess. He’s such a scumbag, in fact, that he thinks she’s cheating on him, too, just because she never calls him on this really obvious affair, and that’s how the slimeball mind works, I ‘spose.”

Byakuya tried to perform some mental math. Abarai had only been married to his sister for five months. How had he possibly had time to accomplish all this? Byakuya was beginning to think this was not actually an autobiographical story, in which case why was he telling it?

Abarai was waving his hands around enthusiastically at this point. “So he spies on her, trying to catch him in the act, and get this-- all he catches her doing is writing a poem about how she hopes he’s staying safe while gallivanting around with this other lady! I just bet he felt bad!”

All of this was beginning to sound vaguely familiar. Byakuya squeezed his eyes shut, trying to place this story in its proper context.

“Now, don’t get me wrong, this guy is a sleaze. I am not defending this guy in any way. But it’s not really about him, see? It’s about the lady, and the purity of her love for him--”

Byakuya gripped his head. “Abarai, this is just the plot of Izutsu, isn’t it? The noh play?”

“Oh, you’ve seen it?” Abarai asked. “We went on Wednesday, and I thought we both enjoyed it, but then yesterday, Rukia asked my opinion on it, and I gave it to her, and, uh, a big fight happened.”

“Of course I have seen it, it is one of the classical noh dramas! And Ariwara no Narihira is one of the Six Poetic Genius, he is not ‘a sleaze.’” Byakuya paused. “Rukia had strong opinions on it?”

“The strongest of opinions. She said the lady was dumb for pining over a shi-- poet, and that someone should have konsoued her in the first act. And I think she just really missed the point, I mean, it’s noh, it’s not like anyone’s here for a good time, how are you supposed to have any heartfelt songs about suffering in love if you ain’t got any suffering, am I right?”

Although one would never be able to tell from his facial expression, Byakuya found this entire shaggy dog story interesting on a number of levels. For one, every time he had ever taken Rukia to noh and asked her opinion of it, she had replied that the costumes had been very beautiful or that the dancers had been very skilled. She had never once expressed an opinion on the content. Reason number two was that Hisana had very strong opinions on the content of noh dramas. In fact, Hisana used to refer to Izutsu as the ‘Never Trust a Poet’ play. Byakuya very distinctly remembered her opining that “the husband was bad and he should feel bad; he should be the one who has to come back and haunt the damn well.” Byakuya eventually came to realize that Hisana’s complaints were primarily a ruse for the purpose of getting him riled up, and that the best way of short-circuiting them was merely to start kissing her and then to get riled up in a different way. He would give up his sword before he shared that piece of information with Abarai. The third interesting piece of information, though…

“I would not have expected you to take theater criticism so personally, Lieutenant,” Byakuya observed mildly.

Renji opened his mouth and then closed it again. “It’s just a dumb play,” he muttered.

Byakuya minutely adjusted the position of a paper on his desk. “Art is a reflection of our strongest emotions and a chance to explore the boundaries of concepts like love and forgiveness. It can be quite disconcerting to find yourself on the opposite side of a philosophical divide from the one person in your life whose opinions on romantic love are actually pertinent to you.”

“I just don’t understand why she’s mad at me!” Abarai lamented, throwing up his hands. “I liked the play, she’s one who said it was dumb. I don’t see how you can get mad at someone for liking a thing.”

Byakuya sighed, and reminded himself for the millionth time that Abarai had spent his formative years literally headbutting the humanoid mountain goats of the Eleventh instead of metaphorically headbutting an equally stubborn classical literature tutor. “Clearly, you find ongoing devotion in the face of obstacles to be an admirable quality, and were moved by the wife’s pining, which is, broadly speaking, the main theme of the play. However, consider the perspective of the one who is pined after, presented in this piece as a flawed idol, a cause of agony and suffering so severe that it persists past the confines of mortal existence.”

“Oh,” replied Abarai. There was a long pause. “Oh.” His face transitioned through a number of contortions, but not further words came forth.

Byakuya picked up the Standards for Disposition of Historically Significant Hauntings again, and pretended to flip through it. “Do you need to take an early lunch break today, Lieutenant?”

“Um, ah…” Abarai looked at his calendar. “I got Advanced Hakuda Skills with the upper seats at 11.”

“I don’t think they’re up for it today,” Byakuya noted dryly. “Go ahead.”

Abarai scrammed.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

On The Run--Part 2

A continuation of this blurb. 

Witch!OC on the run. Clueless Calum. 

No one has permission to repost this elsewhere, including translations. Thank you. 

Masterlist

___________________

It’s three days. When Calum’s phone buzzes from his coffee table in the evening he’s almost positive, it’s a scam text message. Have a night to spare. Do waffles still stand?

It’s dumb to send that message. It’s dumb to get into her car. It’s dumb to drive until she sees the yellow backlit sign. It’s dumb to pull into the parking lot. It’s dumb to stand outside her car, waiting for this guy to show up. She didn’t even have his fucking name. And just three days ago, she’s utterly convinced he was attempting to hunt her down. 

But she felt like she owed him this. Not that she had any real obligation to take this stranger up on their word. But Morgan knew she’d be leaving town soon. Her last encounter proved that she needed to get the fuck out and move on. And he was sweet. He didn’t press her. Didn’t follow her down into the bowels of the dance floor. He was cool, a bit of a fumble on his feet when he handed her the number. But still sweet nonetheless. 

Besides, Morgan does like waffles, much better than pancakes because of the small pockets to hold the syrup. 

She figures it’ll be her last meal in town. She’ll eat and then set out to duck out of town. There’s no harm in that. Having a good last meal before she spent hours on the road, attempting to figure out her next move. Yeah, she could use it as motivation. She’d already be out of the house. Her belongings were already packed in two bags. They were already in her trunk. 

She just hadn’t been able to fuck go yet. 

But this would her motivation. This would be like her last goodbye to the town. 

“Okay, this is going to sound crazy. But did we ever trade names?” 

Morgan shakes her head. “Don’t think we did. I’m Morgan.”

“Calum.”

She tries it out. Her tongue curling just a little, the tip of her tongue touching the roof of her mouth as she says the ‘L’. They head inside. It’s not long until they’re seated. “So, what do you do around here?” Calum asks, his gaze flicks between the menu to her and then it settles there. 

Hiding. Running. Trying not to fucking die. “Just...figuring things out really. Fairly new in town. But I don’t think I’m cut out to make it out here for long.”

HIs brows furrow, pulling his own face down. His lips curl into a pout. His head tilts to one side. “Why do you say that?”

“Just...not my vibe, I guess.” There’s something in that gaze. He cares. Deeply. And he shouldn’t. Morgan’s trouble. Always has been nothing but trouble and always will be nothing but trouble. But she can cause enough trouble on her own. She doesn’t need to be worried about anyone else right now. Morgan’s thankful a server comes by to get their drink orders. She gets just water. Calum gets orange juice. “But enough about me, what are you doing? What’s your story?”

“Nothing fancy,” Calum returns. His gaze lands on the All star Breakfast special. 

“C’mon. Give me something better than that.”

Calum shakes his head. A small grin appears on his face and Morgan’s floored by how it brightens his face. “Nah, it’s really nothing too big. Just in a a band. Playing and making music with three of my best mates.”

It’s on the term ‘mates’ that Morgan hears more of his accent. It’s always there. Always been sitting and playing like a song to her eardrums. But it only hits her then. “Let me guess, you’re not from LA originally. Gonna say you moved here. From,” she pauses, pondering as she rubs her chin. “Australia?”

“Accent wasn’t it?”

“That and your use of ‘mates’. No one says that around here.”

“What about you? Where you are from? What brought you to LA even if LA doesn’t seem like it’s making ya stay.”

Morgan picks at the corner of the laminated menu. It’s already lifting, thanks to all the nervous pickers before her. Running. Hiding. Trying to survive. “Just had to get away really,” she starts before clearing her throat. Her water’s placed down and she takes the moment to figure out just how to lie this time. 

“You guys ready to order?”

Fuck, she’s hardly looked over this menu. “All Star Breakfast,” comes out in unison. Calum and Morgan look at each other before laughter erupts from them. Calum opts for no sausage. 

“You know, I’m a growing girl. I’ll just take his portion,” she tells the server. They only nod, scratching a line out on the pad and then turn to add their ticket to the thin string of other people looking for breakfast at half past 8 pm. 

Morgan takes a sip of her water and Calum continues to gaze at her softly. “Just getting away?” he reiterates.

“I just didn’t fit in where I was, I guess. They wanted something that I wasn’t. And I just—I knew I had to get out from there. So I came to LA. Could be nameless and no one would care. I wouldn’t stick out.”

Calum snorts. “I know it’s LA. But even still blue hair will get you noticed. Trust me. Mine was blue, blond. Pink, even. People still notice.”

Morgan nods, pulling on a small ringlet from her bags. The afro is cut in something more like a heart shape around her face. The curl bounces back into place too. “I guess I might’ve been asking for some attention.”

“Just a tiny bit,” Calum jokes, bringing his thumb and pointer finger together but not actually touching. His eyes narrow into a squint as to emphasize his point. 

Their conversation turns silent for just a moment and as Calum sips at his drink, Morgan speaks, picking at her nails. “Thanks. For not flipping at the club.”

Calum shakes his head. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“No, but like, I know it’s gotta be strange for me not to, like, take the bait on your move in the club but to take your number and actually text you.” 

She tries not to feel like she has to explain. But she is grateful that Calum’s not being nasty towards her. She’s learned in the short three months she’s been hiding out: that it’s not just her kind that can be nasty. Men hitting her expect her to fawn over the action. Like she should be grateful that anyone is giving her attention. It makes her feel dirty. She feels like she’s rolled in mud and let it dry and pull tight at her skin. No amount of showering will ever quite get rid of that feeling either. 

“Like, I just. A few days before had an unpleasant experience. So yeah,” Morgan shakes her head, looking up at Calum again. He looks sad, maybe even a little frustrated. “Yeah, just thanks.”

“I’m sorry.” It comes out in a whisper. “I’m sorry you’ve got to deal with assholes.”

“Happens.”

“But it shouldn’t, ya know?” 

Morgan’s dealt with assholes before. Like the girl that felt her up last week when she was closing out her tab. Or like the guy that catcalled her as she walked back to her place with groceries in hand. Assholes were always around. And though Calum didn’t know about the scouting groups and though he didn’t know about what she had done, how she felt so dirty for turning her back. It’s nice to know that good people still exists. 

Their food arrives and Morgan asks while sliding the two extra sausage patties onto her plate about the band and the music and what’s going on in Calum’s life. They laugh, pulling out phones to show pictures. Mostly Calum showing off Duke. “Sorry, I probably sound crazy,” he mutters, putting his phone face down on the table. 

“No, you don’t sound crazy. It’s very cute. Worth showing off.”

Plates are cleared. Though crumbs of toast litter their plates and not an ounce of waffle left behind, they contemplate dessert. “I’m pretty stuffed,” Morgan counters. She needs to get on the road. She needs to get away from here. The scouting groups are no doubt still trying to close in on her. 

Calum nods. He pays the bill, though she insistent she can pay for half. “I had a nice time. And I’m not sure I can convince you to follow me for a late night record run.”

“I should get back. It’s past my bed time,” Morgan teases. 

“When are you leaving?” Calum enjoyed her company. Even if she’s leaving, maybe he can get one last time with her. 

“Morning probably.”

He nods. “Be safe out there. Keep in touch, will you?”

She reaches across the table, palms face up. Calum places his hands into hers. She rubs her thumbs over his parents initials etched into his skin. His tattoos don’t radiate heat like her markings do. Any witch with a marking gives a little heat over that area. But Morgan can feel something there. Like a weight. He’s gone from everyone else. His family is continents away. “I’m sorry I can’t stay.”

“You don’t need to apologize about that. It’s your life. You’ve got to live it. You’ve got to face you at the end of the road.” 

Her fingers wrap around. Calum’s shocked at how warm her hands are. How she just seems to get it and get him. It’s silent a moment between them. Morgan knows. She always knows with a simple touch. He’s going to find that stability. It make take him scrapping his knees a few times due to falling but he’ll get it right eventually. 

Her eyes open. For a moment, just a split second, Calum’s sure he can see some gold swirling in the dark brown-almost black of her irises. By the time he blinks again. It’s gone. “How does that song go? I walk a lonely road,” she sings. Calum laughs, head dropping on his neck and he squeezes her hands in his. 

Calum feels her hand leaving his pocket as they exit the restaurant. When he reaches inside and finds the twenty dollar bill, he sighs. Morgan’s already crossing the parking lot. They parked right next to each other. His was a few minutes late having to take Duke out before he left. But he knew her face when he saw her standing against her trunk. 

Calum’s boots thud down onto the asphalt and he catches her by the back pocket of her jeans, slipping the bill inside. She laughs, spinning around. Her elbow comes down on his forearm. Not hard by any stretch. Just enough of a tap to warn Calum. His body pins her to her trunk just for a moment. “What do you think you’re doing sir?”

“I asked you on the date. So I’m gonna pay.”

“Gas money. Toy money for Duke.”

“Keep your money Morgan.” He starts backwards to his own vehicle. She starts after him. “Oi! Don’t.” 

A scuffle ensues. Calum holding her arms down at her side. She’s leaning forward trying to push against his hold. She knows she can’t physically break it. She doesn’t need to. Their laughter bubbles around the night, echoing high off the empty looking skies. In the bright light of the sign, Morgan twirls her fingers the gold flecks reflecting off the tips of her fingers. The bill slips out of her pocket and into his. But Calum doesn’t notice. Not as he laughs into her afro and neck, trying not to memorize the scent of her shampoo. 

“Don’t try it. Really. Don’t give it back to me.” He’s trying to sound more serious than he is. But his words always dissolve into laughter. 

Her feet are dragging, unable to get real traction to break Calum’s pin. “Alright, alright, alright,” she huffs, still laughing into his chest. 

He straights up, leaning slightly forward to counter her force. His hands slide down from her wrist to hook the tips of their fingers together before that hold slackens. Fingers slide and their pinkies hook. “You’re a stubborn one, I see.”

“Momma always called me a bull,” Morgan returns. Her chest is still heavy from their laughter and the force she exerted to lose in a match of brute strength against Calum. “Guess she saw it before anyone else.” 

He almost wants to pull on a curl, watch it bounce like it did before at the table. But he stops himself. “Just call me sometimes, alright? So I can see what trouble you’re getting into.”

“I will. Thanks for the waffles.”

“Anytime you’re in town, we can get them.”

Calum watches sure Morgan pulls off first. Watches her car disappear into the traffic and then he climbs inside. When he buckles his seatbelt part of his jacket gets in the way so he tugs at it, pulling it out of the way. Something crinkles. He almost’s sure it’s just some old receipt. But he pats the pocket. It rustles again. His finger grasps what’s inside. A receipt like he thought. And the twenty dollar bill. “How the hell?”

When Morgan checks her phone again, pulled into a rest stop along Highway One, she sees a message from Calum. I don’t know what magic you pulled. But when you get settled. Send me the address. This twenty’s got a trip to make.

If Morgan knew she’d be meeting her match when it came to stubborn, she would’ve made that twenty a little harder to find. 

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

You Asked, I Told

(Note, if this post shows up twice or massively delayed or just looks weird, it’s because it was flagged for adult content [??!] because I had a picture of Willem Dafoe’s face in a gif. I am not even kidding. Do with that information what you will. I’ve removed it and I still don’t know if/when this can be publicly viewed, I’m kind of lolling. So if you see a blocked out photo that looks like porn in your post, I swear it’s just a gif from The Lighthouse!)

Hello, amazing people. This weekend, I’m putting the final touches on my last draft of Baghdad Waltz Chapter 39, which will then go to the beta for one more round of edits. I imagine I will have the chapter posted in 1-3 weeks, which is close to record speed for me, especially since it’s around 30k words. I’m going to be talking about my writing process (at unfortunate length) for one of the asks, for those who are interested. 

Please forgive me. I’m feeling quite verbose and a little squirrely. I blame living alone during lockdown. 

It’s also Memorial Day weekend in the States, which is when we are meant to honor those who gave their lives in military service to this country. This is often confused with Veterans Day (November 11), which is honoring anyone who has served in the military and is no longer serving. This gets further confused with Armed Forces Day (rotating date, May) which is to honor those currently serving in the military. I know, super confusing. 

There’s a wide range of opinions on how Memorial Day should be commemorated, which often involves gathering with friends and family for a barbecue or some other social activity. It’s the first major holiday after a huge holiday drought throughout the late winter and spring, which often makes people look forward to it immensely. Some people feel it’s inappropriate to celebrate Memorial Day with barbecues and fond social gatherings because it’s dishonoring the memories of those who can’t be here, people don’t take time to remember those who have died, people have no idea what the day is actually for, etc. Others, even some very vocal veterans, maintain that people died so that we could be here to celebrate in freedom, so why not relish this life we have? Many offer the caveat that it’s appropriate to at least acknowledge the purpose of the day, even if it’s just in a few minutes of quiet reflection. 

Anyway, I offer this as a little food for thought for this upcoming long weekend. 

(And in case you missed it, I posted a BW Timeline for your reference.) 

Contains spoilers through Chapter 38.

[Takes deep breath]

I’m so glad that you are enjoying the read and that you’re finding it inspiring for your own work. I think my dedication to research for BW is threefold. 1) As this story evolved, I decided that I wanted to create the most realistic depictions of military, civilian, emotional, and physical life that I reasonably could. I will fully admit to lapses in this, deliberate and unintentional, because sometimes the plot just needs to go and I can’t wait around for a year-long medical discharge process for my character. 2) I’m in an academically stringent occupation, and because research is such a prominent part of my work life, it’s bled to my hobby. (IS THIS EVEN A HOBBY ANYMORE?) And 3) I get very easily and passionately obsessed with things and delight in getting “into the weeds” with a subject. Almost every research divergence usually takes me off track for at least an hour. And you will never catch me without an MTA subway map open in at least one tab.

But that wasn’t even your question! Sorry. Are you beginning to get a sense of why BW takes me so long to write?? I cannot keep my shit on track. As for the bibliography, YES! I plan to include that in my author’s note at the end. I wish I had kept better track of all of my works consulted over the past three years, but I will definitely discuss the importance of some of the main ones. I’m so thrilled that you are interested, and I’m excited to share them!

Thank you. This is such a kind thing to say, and I’m humbled and delighted to hear it, especially because our fandom is so blessed with some AMAZING fics. And asks certainly don’t have to be questions! I appreciate them all (except the flaming bag of dog shit ones, which I haven’t had in a while, hooray).

(Re: Chapter 37) Good question! I imagine Claire would want to keep the 1:1 conversation somewhat limited, as she is treating the couple as a patient rather than them as individuals. If anything, she might have somewhat superficially checked in to see if he was okay rather than dive into anything regarding the relationship with Bucky not around. That could be seen as a betrayal of trust to Bucky and could be interpreted as favoritism, which Steve craves and which Bucky is probably terrified about.

I am always pleased when people re-read and enjoy it or get new things out of it, even if it’s sometimes a re-read is a function of my slow-ass writing. I really want a story with good re-read value.

You make an excellent point about Bucky’s relationships. His friendship with Jack also had no real closure. Sometimes this is a factor of circumstance and sometimes it’s because of his avoidance, like a self-fulfilling prophesy almost. He’s learned that people betray you, either by hurting you or dying, so he creates conditions sometimes (often unwittingly) for things to go sour and end poorly, or he will simply make himself disappear so that he’s not hurt and doesn’t have to wait to see if he will be abandoned or betrayed. He’s not a guy who is good with goodbyes.

As for Thor, I totally see how it would read that way. I think Thor started out fishing for longer-term possibilities in a romantic relationship but then realized Bucky is really not a guy who is comfortable settling (which, as we can see, is true). As for why it seems more serious, one thing is that Thor still wanted Bucky in his life as a friend, possibly one with benefits. They have a lot in common, and it’s hard for veterans - and, more specifically, special operators - to find people in their lives they can relate to with these very intense life experiences. I wanted this to be a real relationship, but maybe not necessarily one that was bound to become a RELATIONSHIP. I think Bucky was very intriguing and attractive to him, and he very well may have struggled with his own vacillation between whether to take it seriously or whether to remain friends+. This can lead to mixed messages.

And we also have to remember Bucky’s notoriously unreliable narration, where he will see what he wants to see. Our perspective comes from him. We see the details he zooms in on, miss the one he ignores, view the relationship through the lens of his own contentious desire for a real relationship, even as he consistently demonstrates the lack of capacity and his fear about getting serious. I imagine Bucky has having an extremely poor ability to distinguish friendship from romance, and why wouldn’t he, given the most recent bit of history we have learned about him with Jack? He’s had a series of friendships become sexualized, and I think this affects his capacity to be discerning. Bucky’s radar for relating, whether friendships, romance, or potentially dangerous sexual situations, is terribly mis-calibrated. How confusing for him and for the people in his life. Of course, everyone is free to interpret the dynamics of any relationship however they choose. These are just some of my thoughts.

I really appreciate observations from the re-read! Thank you!

I watched the video and you are right! This is definitely a Bucky song. Bucky’s sense of self is by turns profoundly distorted and lacking in grounding, especially now that he’s not in the military. He’s been in a low key existential crisis since he was a kid and has turned to drinking and sex and war to fill this horrible void, and although I can’t speak for what the artists here intended, I certainly sensed those elements here for sure. (Also, what an interesting choice for a music video…)

Thank you for sharing! I’ll add it to the unofficial BW playlist in the author’s note, which consists of various songs people have associated with BW and shared with me.

Good question! I started off this story picturing the actors who represent the characters in the MCU, because I figured we’d be picturing that when we read the fic anyway (though my beta told me she doesn’t see them as the actors, more like artists’ renderings of the characters, which I find interesting). So when describing their physicality, I tend to refer back to the MCU, since this is technically an MCU AU. But the longer I go with the story, the murkier the resemblance feels to me, especially when I think about Bucky, IDK why. I have also been considering doing something more with BW after I finish it (i.e., converting it into a proper not-bajillion-word novel, sunk cost and whatnot), in which case I would definitely change the characters’ appearance, names, cut MCU Easter eggs, etc. So when I try to think of who these people might be in future iterations of the story, things get even more blurred in my mind when I imagine them.

I wonder how other people see them??

So, with regards to PTSD clinical teams, there is some variation across VAs in the system. Some focus more on military-related trauma, whether it’s war, military sexual trauma, accidents, etc. as a way of concentrating their services and managing supply and demand. From talking with providers in these kinds of systems, sometimes you just NEED a military-related trauma, but you can be treated for, say, a childhood trauma if it’s more pressing. Other VAs are very open in their criteria, and you can see them for pretty much any kind of trauma that qualifies diagnostically for PTSD (or sub-threshold PTSD) without question. That’s why I love the expression “If you’ve been to one VA, you’ve been to one VA.” That said, it kind of doesn’t matter what kind of PTSD clinical team is at the VA in Manhattan, because Bucky has so much military trauma that he would very likely qualify to receive services in any PTSD clinical team. They just might focus on childhood stuff (if Bucky actually let them, which is another matter entirely).

This is a great question! Thanks for asking.

I love a snarky asshole Bucky so much, and I’ve tried to temper this version of him with enough hard-earned genuineness to offset it a little bit. It’s such a tender balance with him, because if you back him too far into a corner, he’s going to let you have it. But if you give him too much space, it’s hard to pin him down and wring something honest from him. He’s definitely learned to use humor and sarcasm to deflect from painful or uncomfortable situations, and it’s a very adaptive short-term strategy that makes him both endearing and infuriating to others.

But ugh, yeah, shit gets so rough around Chapter 28/29. I don’t know how to feel when people have really strong emotional reactions to this story, because one part of me doesn’t want to contribute to the crappy feelings people may already be struggling with — especially in the times of COVID — but I don’t want to be afraid to dive into the hurt these characters are experiencing. That’s why I recommend checking in with oneself before reading to get a sense of how much emotional bandwidth is available to manage the immense problems of two people struggling so much. I also think that for some people it can be cathartic or otherwise not-bad maybe (?), based on the feedback I’ve received. I also really try hard to balance out the painful stuff with growth, even though it can be terribly difficult to locate sometimes.

In comments to folks, and here, I often talk about adjusting the ticks on your measuring stick for progress, where instead of leaps of progress over feet/meters, we may be observing things on an inch/mm scale. This story is my most sincere effort at a “recovery is not linear” narrative, which I think is so much more reflective of real life for a lot of folks than a straight upward trajectory. Humans are such creatures of habit, and the lessons these characters have learned through their lives about themselves, trust, relationships, and how to manage emotions are very deeply ingrained — often through traumatic means. These are the lessons learned the hardest, with the greatest perceived consequences for change, and it takes real courage for us to be able to try new things even once, let alone to establish a reliable pattern of behavior. This can lead to a lot of frustration for us as readers/writer, and I come from a place of this being okay, because we are encountering a parallel process with the characters, who are frustrated with each other and themselves about the same things. I do hope the pain/progress/joy ratios are not horribly out of whack most of the time. That’s another reason I like long chapters, because if this was just blips of sometimes terrible episodes in shorter form, I think it would be very challenging to not lose hope entirely.

But I’m so glad you’re finding the read meaningful, even if it’s sometimes painful and difficult.

(YES.)

And FINALLY -- (this is all soooo long, I’m so sorry.)

Oh, thank you for this question! My spreadsheet ended up getting too difficult to manage, and I actually had a small crisis six months ago about how the fic was going to end, because it just didn’t feel right. I had to scrap it and go back to the drawing board and really ask myself - what would these characters really do? Naturally, as a factor of their psychologies and circumstances, how will they bring this story to an end? Some advice I once heard about a “satisfying” ending is that it’s the place where there’s simply nothing more to say about the characters. There’s no more story to tell. I had to abandon all of my desires  and ideas for a particular ending or concerns about making people sad or happy or excited or disappointed. I know that the only ending that will be satisfying is one that makes sense for these people. Anything contrived or backward-engineer-y wouldn’t feel right to anyone. I do have a couple of specific character arc things I want to happen, so I set those down as touchstones and said, okay, what would happen next? What would Steve do with this? And what would Bucky do with this? And what would they do with the thing the other person did? I take a very psychology and prior-behavior-based approach to plotting, almost all character driven. The rest is just figuring out what is supposed to go where and how to organize it.

I’ve converted everything to a Google Doc and have a very basic outline where I write plotty-plot stuff. I also have a “garbage dump” doc where I write certain lines I want to use or certain details I want to include somewhere. When I get into a new chapter, I’ll check the dump doc as I outline and write to see if I want to pluck anything from there. I have my outline open regularly to add to it. Sometimes I write scenes out of order, dialogue first, but that’s only if I really am excited about a particular scene and cannot contain myself. Otherwise, I write completely chronologically and have no buffer. I post things as soon as I write them.

As for your specific questions, I do have a “process” for getting into my characters’ heads. It helps to know them so very well and to have a firm sense of their idiosyncrasies and patterns of behavior. As you may have noticed, they repeat their patterns all. the. time, as humans do, but I also want to have them change their behaviors a little as things go and they progress. So I may wonder what they could do a little differently, why they would WANT to behave differently, and imagine what they would need to do to change their behavior. Do they need to take breaths? Do they remember the last time some shit went down? I really try to think of the “how” and “why” of every single action - from big blowouts to eye rolls.

So once I’ve figured out what they are going to do, I try to pinpoint the associated emotions I want to highlight. This is a whole separate process, because I have to think also about their internal versus their external emotional states. Steve, for example, will often have a discrepant inside and outside, because one of the truths about his character is that he is a chronic suppressor. There is also the issue of unreliable narration and interpretation of behavior. Steve might do something in a scene, but that doesn’t mean Bucky is going to interpret it the way it was intended. I have to think about their individual filters, which often reflect their internal beliefs about themselves. Bucky is more likely to read Steve’s actions as reflections of how BUCKY feels about HIMSELF (e.g., he’s disgusted by me because I’m disgusting) rather than imagine what Steve is really thinking based on his own experiences and beliefs about Bucky. I also attempt to convey some of the more second and third layer emotions that people have in situations, rather than only highlighting the primary emotion. Sad things don’t always just make people sad. Powerful emotions, for example, might make Steve feel out of control of himself, which could generate secondary emotions for him like frustration because he’s losing control. Part of the process in the construction of the narrative is also scrubbing what I’ve written for POV, because Bucky’s word choices aren’t the same as Steve’s, and in order to try to preserve the “voice” of each character, I often have to change the words I’ve opted to use, as well as the syntax.

So, as you can see, there’s a lot of layering that is happening all the time. As for the dialogue, I have no compunction about saying the lines aloud, “acting” them to see how they sound, to get a sense of what tone I want them to say things in. Now that I think of it, I do a bit of movement-based stuff, thinking about how people sit and stand, figuring how many steps it takes to get from A-Z, what it would look like to lean against something, how it would feel on the body, etc. I try to get the most felt sense of things as I can. If I’m imagining a scene, I try to put myself in the shoes of the characters to the point where I feel the emotions, just so I can know how it reflects in my body and my mind and behavior. I have more than once gotten drunk and drunk-written drunk Bucky then gone to clean it up later, as drunk writing can generate some great content I never would have been able to come up with sober, but the form, grammar, spelling, etc. is often rubbish. I also talk a LOT to my beta about all of this stuff, and I have certain friends and acquaintances in the fandom who are my consultants for various things.

So, I’m somewhat method I guess?? Is that a thing?? I dunno. It’s not hard to do when you live and breathe a story. It’s required a deep level of interest in - quite possibly an obsession with - the characters and their lives. I adore my characters, not in a self-congratulatory way, but because they feel so real to me. So it’s a joy to plan and write -- though I do hate first drafts with a passion.

OH - I also sometimes fast-draft chapters, which I did for 39. That is, write as FAST AS YOU CAN with no regard for how shitty the writing is. I wrote 10k words in a week, which was a finished fast-draft for me, and thus I had a very good felt sense of what was going to happen in the chapter, which felt amazing. It requires intensive outlining before, and nearly every word had to be rewritten, but one of the greatest frustrations of a story for me is having blank space ahead. Re-writing is way more fun than first draft writing. I have fluffed it up twofold with higher quality content, which I did all in less than two months…!! 

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

Well, this is surely my most unnecessarily yammering YAIT in history. But I hope it at least conveys my enthusiasm for these wonderful asks! It’s so lovely to hear from all of you, even if I take an eon to get back to you. Hang in there, everyone!

@grimshady @hutchhitched​ @b0n3l3ssm1lk​ 

(And thank you to @bae-buckyaboveeverything​ for the shout out. You made my day<3)

[sincerelymarinette]

A Recorded Life (39/50) - Miraculous Ladybug

Words: 1502 Chapter Summary: Jagged Stone has an announcement! Marinette has a lot going on soon, and it's the first video of Adrien vs. Jobs where Adrien gets to work in the Dupain-Cheng Bakery! Author's Note: suuuuper late update (it's still Sunday in California!!) oh look another busy week but i love this story I'm determined to update! I wanted to make an edit of how Marinette's end screen would look but I didn't get to it, so maybe next update :) hope everyone is doing well and staying safe!

Prev / Next / Masterlist

Adrien vs. Jobs 1: The Bakery

---

Nine days until the gala.

JAGGED @JaggedStone I'm excited to finally announce the release date of my new album, Greener Grass! We released Lift Up a few weeks ago, and I'll admit it was a little premature of a release, but I was so excited to share new music!

JAGGED @JaggedStone That being said, get ready to rock out next Friday! Since I made you all wait so long since the single, we pushed it as close as I could get it!

JAGGED @JaggedStone Pre-order merch bundles and album cover posters here: jaggedstonestore.com Don't forget to get your favorite @MarinetteDC cover in stores and collect them all in poster and merch form! I can't wait for you all to see them in person, they're AMAZING!

Every time Jagged Stone tweeted about Marinette, her follower count spiked. It was crazy that it happened every time he said something about her, but he does have a lot of fans, so it makes sense. She was also astonished at how fast he wanted to release the album, but ever since Marinette got all the covers finished, he was itching to just drop it all right away. His fans would surely be excited, just as she was.

It just so happened that Jagged's release date was the same day as the Agreste Gala, so that would be a busy day for sure. She sat at the lunch table with her headphones in as she waited for her friends, scrolling through Twitter and retweeting Jagged Stone's tweets. He also said to look out for another single drop at midnight to bring back the hype of the album, and she was excited.

Marinette may have heard the album already, or at least the demos, but she was still excited for the formal release of the songs. She heard her email ding, and switched tabs to see an email from Jagged (and Penny).

Hey Marinette!

I hope you've seen the announcements I made on social media today. If not, the album is set to be out next Friday! We're all excited to show off the music and your artwork, and Penny and I had an idea about how to push marketing over the edge.

You know sometimes artists do an explanation of their songs? I've done one once but it was a while ago, maybe my second album, so I'm not sure if you've heard it. But I think it would be awesome if we could do one for this album! I explain the song process, and you talk about your process for the designs. A lot of fans really love you and your artwork, that I think it would be amazing.

We could record them for both an album and videos you could post on your channel if you'd like. Reminds me of like a podcast, which sounds like a lot of fun. Are you in? I'm thinking we record it Monday or Tuesday next week because it would have to be a pretty quick turn around.

Penny will send you more details if you're interested! Hope to see you soon.

Rock on, Jagged Stone

"Hey, Mari," Adrien smiled wide as he sat across from Marinette at the table. She took her headphones out and smiled back before starting to type as fast as possible to respond.

"You guys see Jagged Stone's tweets?" Nino asked as he took a seat next to Adrien. "I'm sure Marinette has, but I'm so excited! His album comes out in like a week!" Nino said.

Both Marinette and Adrien nodded. "I'm sure it's gonna be amazing. And I can't wait to buy all the Marinette and Jagged merch!"

"What are you so interested in?" Alya asked, sneaking up behind Marinette and unknowingly cutting off Adrien.

Marinette took a break from typing and sat back. "An email from Jagged Stone. He wants to do one of those explaining the album podcasts, which would be so cool," Marinette explained. "So I'm replying. Hey, are you busy Monday or Tuesday after school?"

"Nope, you need me to come with you to run the camera?" Alya winked.

"You know it!" Marinette said and turned to the boys. "Sorry guys, I don't know if you'll be able to come with," She apologized.

Adrien and Nino looked at each other and back to Marinette. "I guess we'll just have to have guy time then," Nino shrugged and took a bite of his food. "But I expect we all get together and listen to it as soon as it comes out!" He smiled wide.

"Maybe the day after," Adrien added. "We have the gala on Friday, so if our investigation comes up dry, we'll listen on Saturday!"

Marinette pressed send on the email and shut her laptop to eat lunch with friends. After a little bit of conversation, she was finally allowed to get into YouTube talk. "So, Adrien, are you excited to run the register at the bakery today?" She winked.

"Oh, it's going to be the best. Your parents are excited, too," Adrien smiled.

"Bleh," Alya chuckled. "You guys have been dating for like four days, tone it down."

Nino didn't say much, only laughed at the situation as the three went back and forth. "Oh yeah!" Marinette said. "I need your opinion on a video idea, you know, to confirm things to the fans."

---

The middle of the week meant that the bakery could be bustling, or only steady, which was perfect for the video. Marinette had introduced the video, and Sabine was teaching Adrien the basics already.

"So, I think we have officially decided to call this Adrien vs. Jobs, and my mother is getting ahead of schedule and already teaching Adrien! Marinette hinted for Sabine to wait, but she didn't listen.

"Oh yeah, disclaimer, most of this will be in French, but I will subtitle it in English," Marinette said, in English, and walked over to the register to show the camera how it looked.

Sabine was explaining the different buttons to Adrien, in French, and how to ring people up. "Most times, customers will tell you exactly what they want because they read the signs, but other times it's a guessing game. So if you need help, don't be afraid to ask."

"But don't forget this is a challenge, and I will be judging you," Marinette winked.

In response, Adrien stuck his tongue out jokingly. "I think I can do this; thank you. At least a little bit."

Luckily, it wasn't too busy in the bakery. There were just enough people to keep Adrien on his toes, but he wasn't overwhelmed, and it gave him a chance to figure out how to do everything. In the beginning, he had to ask Sabine for help, but with more patient and straightforward customers, it was much easier to understand, and he was able to figure it out.

He even made a few tips (which he gave right back to Sabine) and was having a lot of fun. He got to talk to Parisians, which he didn't get to do as a regular person as much, and wear an apron with fun pockets, and smell the delicious baked goods for a few hours. Tom was making the last of the goodies in the back, and it smelled as beautiful as they looked, and they could barely keep the goods on the shelves!

Adrien loved learning all the different names od the food they carried and getting to box or bag it up for the customer, who was always happy with what the Dupain-Cheng bakery delivered.

He was quite surprised by how he was able to pick up on all the different things the bakery did. It probably helped that he was having fun talking to all customers and bantering with Marinette, as well as watching how much Sabine and Tom love their job.

They helped close up the shop, and Adrien got a celebratory macaroon. After heading upstairs, Marinette was able to finish up the video.

"Well, I definitely think that Adrien could get a job at the bakery if he needs it. My mom clearly loved having the extra hands, and she loves Adrien anyways. What do you think, Adrien?" Marinette asked.

"It was a lot of fun! I would say it was a successful beginning to the series. Which is good, because there will probably be some fails," He chuckled. "Do you want a rematch at Mario Kart?"

Marinette nodded, and Adrien ran to the TV to set it up. "Well, I guess that means I should end the video. Leave a comment on what job you think Adrien should try next! And don't forget to follow us on social media and subscribe to never miss a video!" Marinette said. "Thank you so much for watching, and I will see you next time!" And she set the camera down.

"Okay, I'm ready to beat your butt at Mario Kart...again!" Marinette grabbed the controller and sat down next to Adrien.

"That's what you think."

---

@lady-of-the-roses-and-lilies @bookishserendipity03 @avatheexceed @gkz10 @coccinellegirl @kat-thatoneweirdo @strawberryblondish @snow-swordswoman @lilgaga98 @evufries      

[sebseyesandbuckysthighs]

Three Soldiers and a Baby | Part One

summary: Three handsome bachelors find their day to day operations disrupted when an unexpected new roommate (who comes complete with a diaper and a pacifier) shows up at their doorstep. How will they deal with this new and baffling responsibility without losing their minds or killing each other in the process?

pairings: Bucky x Reader (eventual) featuring Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

warnings: none, this is all very introductory

a/n: Here we go! The start of something I’ve been working on for a little while and finally managed to finish! As this is being posted I’m actually on a plane from Greece back to Canaduh for 12 hours. Pray for my sanity and my knees!

*warning to mobile users, the “keep reading” tab may not work so apologies in advance*

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |

Late mornings were not typical for Steve Rogers, but that didn't keep him from enjoying them. By now he should have been halfway through his early run before heading back home for a shower and a large breakfast. Still, a break from his normal routine was not unwelcome. After rubbing the sleep from his eyes he turned to look at the empty space beside him. This was another part of his normal routine that he wouldn't mind changing; waking up alone. There was nothing he could do about that if he stayed in bed, though, so Steve tossed aside the bed sheet and got up from the hard mattress. After finding a pair of sweatpants to pull over his boxers and a zip-up hoodie to cover his bare chest, he made his way to the kitchen.

The Brooklyn apartment was by no means as large or luxurious as the Compound, but it was everything Steve wanted in a place. The area was great and central to a lot of local business. The bedrooms were a decent size and the living room and kitchen area was a large open space with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto the city. It wasn't the typical penthouse, but this entire level of the building was dedicated to just this apartment and the only way you could access the floor was by key. There were a few other security protocols set-up as well, of course. You could never be too careful. The last thing anyone wanted was an unwelcome visitor showing up at Captain America's front door. Not just his door since he also shared this space with two of his best friends and teammates. Having Sam and Bucky as roommates was just another great bonus. Well, most of the time.

Sam Wilson was seated on one of the stools by the kitchen island sipping from a glass of orange juice. His attention was seemingly fully focused on his tablet, but the second Steve entered the room all bets were off.

“Why did I move in with you people? What could have possibly possessed me to do such a thing? Desperation? Pity?” He tilted his chin upwards and pursed his lips as though really thinking about it. “Maybe I've just lost my damn mind.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he poured himself a glass of orange juice and took a long sip. “What is it now, Sam?”

“Not what...who.”

“Alright.” Steve conceded with a sigh. “What did Bucky do now?” Sensing that this wouldn't be short, or pretty, he took a seat at the counter beside him.

Last night the three roommates had gone out to a nearby bar. Not for any particular reason other than maybe seeing Bucky off before his solo mission. A few years had passed since his stint in Wakanda and after taking some much deserved time to himself Bucky agreed, however reluctantly, to return to active duty. There were of course some concerns, but it didn't take long for Bucky to prove himself and become a powerful addition to the team. His friendship with Sam was a little turbulent at times, but it was mostly due to the fact that they enjoyed pissing each other off. A night out at a bar was usually a recipe for competition.

“You wanna know what he did?” Sam said. “I'll tell you what he did. Picture it, a beautiful Saturday morning after a night out with no hangover in sight. No missions. No plans. No responsibilities. Just me and half a pizza in the fridge calling out her siren's song to me.”

Steve chuckled, but once he saw the lack of humor in Sam's eyes he cleared his throat, motioning for his friend to continue.

“So there I was, humming some Earth, Wind, and Fire as I made my way to this very kitchen when none other than the edgelord himself comes barreling into me. No shirt, no shoes, stinking of his nasty ass cologne from the night before, but wait,” Sam paused, pretending to sniff the air suspiciously. “There's another scent desperately clinging to life despite the overwhelming odds.”

Steve grimaced knowing what that meant. How out of it was he that he managed to sleep through the confrontation? “Okay so Bucky ate the pizza. It's not a big deal. Besides I don't remember anyone actually laying claim to the leftovers. You know the rules.”

Clearly, that wasn't the end of it though as Sam raised his hand in declaration. “Oh but it didn't end there! Barnes' reign of bullshit managed to completely ravage my entire morning in the span of twenty minutes. The guy is going for a record at this point.”

Apparently after eating the pizza Bucky then went on to finishing the last of the toothpaste, using Sam's towel to dry himself off after his shower, and topping it off by drinking the freshly-brewed coffee that Sam made for himself before Bucky was finally out of the door and heading for his mission briefing.

“He's back on his bullshit, Steve.” Sam folded his arms in front of his chest and stared at the other man. “Tell me this isn't about that girl still.” When Steve didn't answer right away Sam threw his hands in the air. “It's been two years! He can't still be hung up one girl.”

It was actually closer to a year and a half, but yes Steve did think it was about that girl. They never really knew who she was, only that for awhile there Bucky was the happiest Steve had ever seen him. He spent more nights away from home and would come back in the morning with a love-struck look that not even Sam could wipe away. When asked if they could meet her Bucky would dodge the subject or say it's complicated. Turns out it was a lot more complicated than they thought when he came home one day telling them that it was over. It was Steve's hope that during one of their nights out he would find someone new and move on.

“The guy just needs to go on a couple dates and get laid.” Sam suggested.

As much as Steve doubted it would be that simple he remained hopeful. “Did you see anyone leave his room this morning?” The other man snorted and shook his head, which was condescending enough to earn a unappreciative growl from Steve. “What I meant to respectively say was no. Barnes was solo this morning.” A sneer exposed Sam's white teeth. “Just like you.”

The blonde groaned and leaned back on his chair. He wasn't exactly doing any better when it came to finding love. There were girls he would see for a little while, but nothing that turned out to be more than just a fling. “What the hell is wrong with us?” Steve mumbled.

“What the hell do you mean by 'us'?” Sam scoffed indignantly. “Don't group me in with you two hopeless fools. I just so happen to be seeing someone.”

That got Steve's attention. “Bullshit. You do? Since when? Who is it?” The barrage of questions and disbelief in his tone did little to improve Sam's already sour mood. “What the hell, Steve? Do you know who you're talking to? Look at this.” Sam stood up, holding his hands out as he showcased himself with a slow twirl. Only Sam Wilson could pull off a silk robe and boxers set. “I'm a masterpiece. It was only a matter of time before I was swept off my feet and taken off the market by a beautiful woman.”

If there was one thing that could be said about Sam Wilson it was that he never lacked in confidence. Steve smiled at his friend. Sure, he was still a little shocked, but genuinely happy for the guy. “That's one lucky lady. What's her name?”

“Ah-ah. Nice try, Rogers, but these lips are sealed. ” He mimed zipping his lips shut and throwing away a key. “All you need to know is that she's a lady agent and she has good taste. Otherwise, I'm a man of mystery and I do not kiss and tell.”

Steve frowned. “But you're always prying into mine and Bucky's love lives.”

“Do as I say, not as I do, Cap.”

“Yeah fine, whatever.” Steve got up from his seat and made his way back to his bedroom to change. “I'm going for a run. And don't worry. I'll talk to Buck when he gets back.”

“Yeah, you better.” Sam called out. “Cause it he does just one more thing to piss me off, I will not be held accountable for smothering him with a pillow the next time he passes out on the couch.”

After three hours of running, Steve was on his way home and yet no closer to figuring out a way to help his friend. He scoffed and shook his head as he passed through the elevator doors. How could he help Bucky out of his funk when he didn't have a clue for himself? He was deep in thought as he rode up the multiple floors wishing that the answer to Bucky's happiness would appear before him. Though, when the doors finally opened to his floor, he was greeted by something that wasn't there when he left. There on the floor right outside of their door was what looked like a basket. A very particular kind of basket. One that shouldn't be sitting out front of anyone's door let alone the home of three bachelors. Before he could take a step closer, the basket started to cry.

part one >> part two

a/n: There we have it, the series has begun! What did you think? Are you ready for what comes next? I hope you liked it and are as excited as I am for more! 

Feedback is always appreciated, leave it here!

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