#which I was never delivered ;_; UP UNTIL LOVELY RUNNER

[marlynnofmany]

In the interest of not derailing this already-long-and-awesome thread, here are some more details! (Paging @sparrows-corner and any other interested parties.)

So in my first semester of college, I took an Intro to Psychology class. I didn't expect anything special; it was just one of those general education courses that everybody was supposed to take at some point. But it turned out amazing.

What the general public didn't know at that point was someone in the college administration had screwed up and forgotten to assign a teacher to this class. Until a week before class. When several students emailed to ask why that detail was missing in the online listing.

The administration panicked, scrambled for someone-anyone-omg-who-can-drop-everything-and-teach-this-class. They called recently-graduated owners of Masters Degrees in teaching.

They found Sandy.

She was qualified and available, and much older than the average recent grad, with the confidence to go with it. This was still a daunting task, though, and she agreed on one condition: that she team-teach the class with a friend of hers who was still working on finishing his degree.

Having no other choice and seeing no real problem with this, the administration agreed. And thus was born the most glorious educational comedy act in my entire academic career. The two of them were a delight. They knew all the stuff they needed to teach, and they knew a great deal more, and they delivered lectures in a way that had everyone paying eager attention. It was great.

This friend, by the way, was awesome in his own right. While Sandy was a curly-haired white lady around middle age, Wayne was a black guy who (1) dressed in impeccable suits and (2) had cerebral palsy.

I think a lot of 18-year-old minds were quietly enlightened about a few things just from watching these two banter back and forth, one with joints more wobbly than the other. Wayne told a memorable anecdote at one point about stopping by a grocery store in sweat pants instead of his usual classy wear. The cashier asked some gentle question about what he spent his time on, assuming that he had some sort of carer following him around. The expression on her face when he told her that he taught college was one I'll never forget, and I didn't even see it.

Anyways, at the end of this semester, the two teachers asked a few of us smart kids if we wanted to be TAs (teaching assistants) for the next semester. Since most of us had already become friends during the make-a-group-and-discuss-things portions of the class, this sounded like a party that would look good on our records later. And it really was.

I TA'd for that class a few times in a row, with my buddies and the two very cool teachers. We met up outside of class for holiday parties and everything.

And, since this was during the time the Lord of the Rings trilogy was first coming out in theaters, we all dressed up in costume and went to an early screening together.

Wayne drove. His handicap placard meant we got to park at the front, which was pretty awesome.

Now, I'd met people before who knew more LotR lore than I did, but they all paled in comparison to Sandy. As I said in the notes on that other post, she shared some stories of her youth with us. When she was fourteen, she ran away to join a hippie commune. She already knew fluent elvish, and she used that to help the commune's drug-runners stay out of the clutches of the cops, by translating their drug notes into a language the cops couldn't read. With a start like that, it was unsurprising that she still knew elvish now, along with all sorts of fascinating deep lore.

She had a limited edition book that looked shockingly expensive. She made beeswax candles for all the TAs as holiday gifts, with our names written on them in elvish. I still have mine somewhere.

I haven't heard from any of these lovely people in a long time, since college moves on and so does life, but I will treasure those memories forever. I hope Sandy and Wayne and the others are doing well. They deserve the best.

[mrinafria]

As insane as it might sound, I kept thinking he was going to reappear anytime now because bad guys jumping into any water body =/= death.

When Grandma threw the watch into the water, I even went as far as to think "OH NOOO now he'll find it and use it to go back in time and kill them both how are they gonna fit all this in the finale?"

^true story.

Clearly I'm traumatized beyond repair by drama endings and this ending still feels surreal.

And what's so heartwarming is that the 55 minutes of FULL FLUFF ACTUALLY HAS SOME SUBSTANCE? Like it's not just their dating era with those jumpy hugs and cutie-smiles and Seon Jae being a loser but the family meeting + Seon Jae's dad looking at the two with an approving face and really cherishing their happiness + Seon Jae looking at Im Sol in admiration as she glows when talking about her dream because he totally gets what she means + Im Sol doing her thang+ THE SIMPLEST AND BEST PROPOSAL EVER???

Ugh.

mad respect to kdrama writers who start off the final episode with 5 minutes of “oh yeah and so the bad guy dies” and then spend the other 55 mins giving us the fluffiest shit anyone has EVER seen

[azaharinflames]

I didn’t start my day planning on being mean, but a certain portion of this fandom decided that they couldn’t keep Lou’s name out of their mouths so now I have thoughts.

We have RG brought on as a main, but frankly Eddie as a character has never gone anywhere. I was never much of an RG fan even before the unsavory things he said, but from what I have read, he hasn’t seemed to have brought much to the role beyond what was in the script. And yes, I get that he’s not a writer or the show runner, but Tim has shown himself to be amenable to good suggestions from the actors (which is why JLH ended up with Chim instead of Eddie, a decision from which his character never recovered).

Then you have the string of unsuccessful (potential) love interests who were all recurring. Similarly, I get that as a recurring you have even less agency than as a main and that’s even worse if you are a woman. All the same, the actors who played Ana, Taylor, Marisol, Lucy, and  death doula whose name alludes me but I’m too lazy to look up, brought NOTHING to the role outside of what was on the page. Granted, these characters were all written in way that made them doomed to fail, but if any one of them had brought something to the table to endear them to the GA and make the narrative work, they would have lasted/had the potential to be endgame level love interests. But it was early in the show’s run you say. Big deal. There are plenty of examples in television where a character was brought in for a handful of episodes early on and they either were kept (or else brought back) as a significant cast member.

And then there’s Lou. Looking back at the season 7 interviews, there is a clear gap between how Tim originally envisioned Tommy compared to Lou’s head canon. Tim saw a happy go lucky starter relationship guy with a hot and heavy make out session in 7x4. Tommy saw a protective guy with layers and past trauma who would deliver a tender 7x4 first kiss. Tim may get some things wrong, but he’s not such an egomaniac that he would go with the worse idea just because it was his. We will never know, but I don’t think Tim committed to making Tommy a significant/possible endgame LI until late season 7 or even while writing 8a. If Lou had done what RG or any of the actors who played Buck/Eddie’s past LI had done, i.e., read the script as is and contributed NOTHING, then Tommy would have been long gone. All this is to say that complaining about Lou having thoughts about his non-main character is tantamount to complaining that the man showed up and did his damned job to the best of his ability. The fact that he has clearly done so much work despite being really good looking in an industry that strongly favors attractiveness gives him extra points my book. Instead of hating on him, maybe they should be asking themselves why their guy didn’t do the same. 

I think you make an excellent point, Nonnie, and I love the way you put it.

At the end of the day, a big reason why we all love Tommy (and Bucktommy) as much as we do has to do with Lou (and with Oliver as well, when talking about the couple). Because Lou took the time and care to create Tommy and make him a bigger and deeper character than what the script said. Because he took so much care and advocated for what he thought made more sense for the character (i.e. their first kiss). It makes us love the character, and love him after seeing how much he cares, and ultimately it reflects very positively on the show.

I do think RG has given his input here and there (it was per his insistence that Marisol came back in S8), but it does feel like he rarely digs deeper into what he's given. At the very least, that's the impression I get (so anyone can disagree with it, that's fine!). I've never particularly connected with Eddie, and I am personally frustrated with the missed potential he has. If he stays, I honestly wish for the writers to figure out what the hell they want to do with him long term.

Anyway. I get your frustration, Nonnie. Bobs have been utterly insufferable since the interview, and the accusations I've seen coming from them? Ngl, there aren't words in the English language to describe what I think about them.

[laedback-taurus]

Words

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2k A/n: Thank you so much for over 500 followers! I honestly can’t believe it, thank you again! This is roughly proofread as I’m incredibly tired and most likely missed some things,

When Tommy gets blamed for the death of a young man, it hits him hard and all he needs is the comfort of his wife and children.

Words never really effected Tommy Shelby, he’d had some interesting words spoken at and about him over the years, but he was never really phased by the names people would whisper behind his back. He never thought that they would have an effect on him at all, until they were spat in his face after a horrible week.

“What have you done?!” the shriek of a heartbroken mother rang through Tommy’s office.

“What have you done to my baby?” She whispered this time, her voice giving in to the despair in her heart.

Tommy knew it was his fault, he sent the boy, her son to his death. He didn’t mean to, but he should have known, he should have seen the danger.--Tommy hired a young man, about Finn’s age after he begged Tommy for work, he stated that he’d tried everywhere but no one would take him. Tommy initially declined but the boy persisted, He started rambling about how his father had died in the war and how his sister is gravely ill, and his mother need to look after her, so she couldn’t work, which left him. Tommy couldn’t help but feel a bit sympathetic for the boy so he offered him a small job as a runner, someone who could inconspicuously deliver important messages that Tommy couldn’t trust the mail with or that he just needed passed on quickly. The young man worked for Tommy for a few months before Tommy sent him off on another job, it was meant to be a quick and easy one, but Tommy was so very wrong. The news came back to him quickly that the young messenger had been intercepted and killed for the information Tommy was passing on. They strung the poor boy up as a warning, a warning for what, well Tommy didn’t know yet. Tommy had told his brothers to pass on the dreaded news to his family and that is how Tommy found himself feeling helpless as a devastated mother screamed at him for answers, answers she deserved.

“I should have been more carefu- “He started but was cut off.

“I told him not to work for you, told him we’d figure something else out, but he refused, said you’d take good care of us, what a load of shit that was” She continued to cry as she spoke, glaring at Tommy, he couldn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m sorr- “he was cut off again.

“Do you have children Mr Shelby?” She asked suddenly.

“I do” he said, finally meeting her eyes, catching the anger and sorrow filling them. He immediately thought of his children, safely at home with you. Home, somewhere that boy would never go again.

“Would you put them in position you put my boy in? Would you send them off to do your dirty work? Would you do to your wife what you’ve done to me? Take her baby away?” She asked, firmly holding eye contact with him, she was a mother full of fury and right now, she wasn’t scared of him. He couldn’t bare to think of losing his children let alone your reaction. Your children meant the world to you, you loved them more than you ever thought you could love something, this also made you extremely protective of them, you wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone that hurt them, including Tommy.

“No, I wouldn’t” He answered honestly.

“Then why did you do it to my boy? To my family? To me?” She asked, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Tommy couldn’t find an answer and she noticed this, only making her angrier.

“You can’t even pity me with an answer” She laughed, disgusted.

“You’re a monster” She spat before storming out of his office, slamming the door behind her.

Those were the words, the words that finally got to Tommy Shelby.

You had enjoyed a lovely day with your children, 6-year-old Charlie and 3-year-old Anna. The three of you had spent some time in the garden, you sat under a tree reading while Charlie and Anna ran around playing. Then you spent some time in the stables, Charlie loved Tommy’s horses and just had to go out and see them daily. Anna also liked them but mainly because she liked to play with their manes.

It was now late afternoon and the three of you had set up in the sitting room, the children were playing nicely together while you looked over the guest list for an upcoming event Tommy was planning. The house was lovely and quiet until the front door burst open, welcoming your husband.

“We’re in the sitting room Tommy” You called out, knowing he’d been looking for the three of you. Not long after, he appeared in the doorway, your children instantly lit up at the sight of him.

“You’re home early!” Charlie exclaimed as he ran over to his father, crashing into him and nearly knocking Tommy over.

“That I am” Tommy replied with a smile that you noticed, didn’t quite reach his eyes. Upon noticing this, you placed the guest list aside and watched him as he interacted with your children.

“Daddy!” It was now Anna’s turn to call out to her father.

“There’s my precious girl” He smiled as he approached her and scooped her up, making her giggle with delight.

“I missed you” she said before pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, then patting his other cheek with her small hand, something she had always liked to do.

“I missed you too my darling, I just couldn’t stay away any longer” He exaggerated before placing her back down, the two children quickly went back to playing with Tommy’s attention turned to you.

“Hello love” he greeted, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, with your brow slightly frowned in worry. Of course you would know something was wrong, Tommy was silly to think he could hide this from you.

“It’s uh- “He cut himself off and you noticed his eyes glaze over just slightly. Without hesitation you called for Frances to watch the children before getting up and leading Tommy upstairs to your bedroom. You shut the door and Tommy sat on the edge of the bed, removing his jacket and tossing it aside.

“Talk to me love” You whispered when you reached him, running your fingers through his hair. His hands found their place on your hips, he began to run his fingertips over the seams of your dress.

“I got a boy killed” He admitted, he kept his gaze down, not wanting to look at you.

“What happened?” You asked, you desperately wanted him to look at you, but you wouldn’t pressure him.

“I fucked up is what happened, I wasn’t careful enough and I sent a boy to his death” You felt his hands begin to shake to your sides.

“That’s not your fault Tommy” You assured him, he didn’t know the boy would be hurt and you didn’t know the anger your words filled Tommy with.

“It is my fault!” He looked up at you now and the look on his face made you want to cry. He looked completely defeated.

“I sent him, I thought that he would be fine- fuck!” He pulled his hands off your hips, too disgusted with himself to feel worthy enough to touch you. You went to speak but he kept going.

“He had a sick sister” Your heart dropped “He wanted a job so they he could help her, help his family and I gave him one that took him from them, I took that girls brother away and his mother…” He trailed off, bring his hands to his face and burring it in them for moment before then dragging his hands down his face. He couldn’t get the look in that mothers eyes out of his head.

“I’m a monster” He slumped, his shoulders falling and his hands falling into his lap.

“Oh Tommy” Your heart broke at the sight of your husband, you pulled him into you and as soon as you did, he buried his face in your chest and reach up, his hands gripping the fabric of your dress at your hips.

“You thought you were doing the right thing by helping him, how were you to know it would lead to this? You couldn’t, he knew it was a dangerous job, he went to you himself, but he was desperate to help his family and you gave him the chance when no one else would and I’m sure he was grateful” You tried to flush out the words you knew would be running through that mind of his, you knew that he had been called much worse but today, this just got to him.

“His mother came into my office” He pulled his head from your chest and looked up at you “She asked if I’d do what I did to her child to my own? She asked if I would you put you through what she is going through and the thought alone broke me so how can I even comprehend what she’s feeling” You knew that the thought of your children getting hurt because of him was something Tommy couldn’t bear, he adored his children.

“She is heartbroken and devastated love, she needed to take it out on you, she needed that. Our children are well loved and safe, you don’t need to worry” you were trying to find the right words to say.

“They’re in danger just because they’re mine, because of me they will always be a target” He whispered.

“A monster shouldn’t be a father” You couldn’t bare it anymore, that comment and the pain in his voice broke you, tears spilled down your cheeks as you cupped his.

“Don’t say that” You whispered “Don’t you ever say that Thomas, your children think the world of you, they ask me all day when you’ll be home, they wait by the door every evening to greet you when you come home, just to see you before they go to bed, Charlie always talks about how he wants to ride horses just like his father and I know that because of your love, Anna will never settle for anything less than what her father has shown her. I am forever grateful to you for making me a mother and a mother of such beautiful children, and they are beautiful because they are ours, they are as much of you as they are of me. So please don’t ever say you shouldn’t be a father because those children out there wouldn’t change you for the world” You both waited in silence for a moment, tears were silently falling down your cheeks and you saw similar tears forming in Tommy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry Y/n” He didn’t know what he was apologising for in particular, maybe everything.

“It’s alright love” You held him for a moment before speaking again “Maybe you could offer to help out his family? I know money doesn’t fix everything but if you could help save her daughter, maybe that would help” You suggested softly, and he nodded slowly.

“I’ll arrange it tomorrow, see if I can pay for funeral arrangements as well” You could tell by the tone of his voice that he was think straight again, he was looking forward.

“that’s a good idea” you leant down and caught his lips in a sweet kiss.

It was in this moment that Tommy realised that the only words that will ever matter were yours, you would always drown out the whispers of others, the names and the blame. The only words he cared about where that of his wife, the mother of his children.

[pluckyredhead]

if i can ask for 2, ted kord and booster gold?

Ted:

First impression

Like Guy, love at first sight. I fell for the whole JLI crew immediately, and Ted and Booster most of all.

Impression now

Ted is still one of my all-time favorite characters, but I'm so frustrated with what DC is doing with him (and Booster). They haven't done anything interesting with him whatsoever since they brought him back. Why are they writing this character like it's 1987? Why aren't they letting him grow? Adding some queerbaiting here and there in various AUs isn't it, folks.

Favorite moment

Ted beats death itself (and the Overmaster) and celebrates by climbing on top of his best friend and running his fingers through his hair. While calling him "Johnny-Boy" for some reason. The later years of the JLI weren't good but they sure delivered on the over-the-top homoerotic subtext!

Runner up: the first of his many comas, when Amanda Waller goes into his mind and finds him standing there in Dan's uniform, contemplating death. OOF.

Idea for a story

Literally fucking anything that allows him to grow. I don't really have ideas for fic about him at the moment, but there's so much I want DC to do, starting with having him actually be a mentor to Jaime in a decent Jaime book rather than hogging half of the spotlight. Also, see the Booster answers below.

Unpopular opinion

Idk if this is an unpopular opinion but I don't think he should be the lead in a book anymore. That includes Blue and Gold. If there's a Blue Beetle on the stands, it should be Jaime. I want to see Ted as weird comic relief Q to the superheroes, not headlining.

Favorite relationship

Okay OBVIOUSLY Booster, but I also love him with Bea and Scott. I also recently reread his interactions with Tim and they're DELIGHTFUL.

Favorite headcanon

You will pry Ted Kord's Jewishness out of my cold, dead hands.

Booster:

First impression

"I love this shiny gold idiot."

Impression now

"I am this shiny gold idiot." There are a lot of DC characters I relate to but if I had to pick one, it would be Booster "I've mistaken attention of any kind for love and I'm pathetically desperate for it" Gold. Also see above re: being frustrated that DC hasn't done anything interesting with him, which goes double for Booster since he actually did have a lot of growth after Ted's death and that's just...gone, without DC giving us the satisfaction of having the boys a) reunite, b) meet again for the first time and form a new friendship, or c) kiss.

Favorite moment

"Ted is spending WAY too much time with this male underwear model. I'm going to sell my soul to the devil to get out of my life support armor, and then I'm not going to put on clothing for two whole issues until he has paid sufficient attention to me."

Runner up: When he breaks all of time and space in his second series to rescue Ted and there's that glorious splash page where he sees him again and he's trying so hard to make a joke, "but all I can say...is his name." 😭

Idea for a story

All I want is for DC to let me write fifty issues of a Booster Gold comic with all the unhinged glee of the best Legends of Tomorrow episodes, where he's careening around history wearing ludicrous historical versions of his costume and having zany adventures, and in between he goes back to the 21st century and whines at Ted to fix his gear and pines obviously in his direction until Ted finally catches a clue. This would also incorporate that whole thing from Convergence where he gets Time Cancer and eventually turns into Waverider like Ponyta evolving into Rapidash, because Booster Gold, Peak Himbo becoming a time elemental is a galaxy brain take that DC never did anything with at all. LET ME DO SOMETHING WITH IT, DC!!!

Unpopular opinion

STOP CALLING HIM MICHAEL, HE WANTS TO BE CALLED BOOSTER, HE HAS MADE THAT VERY CLEAR

Favorite relationship

Again, very obvious, but I also love his relationships with Rip and Bea and Guy. Also his mutual dislike with Clark is endlessly hilarious.

Favorite headcanon

Booster has an extremely sensitive stomach and has a lot of trouble digesting food in our century. He also gets motion sick when he's not flying under his own power. He's a delicate boy! (This is actually canon - he throws up consistently when he first starts using League teleporters, and by the days of Extreme Justice, Ted is keeping barf bags in the passenger seat of their various vehicles for Booster.)

[tunemyart]

Please, Amy, please write the Xena-is-actually-Sappho crackfic! I could think of no one better suited 😁

I've been saving this bc I don't think I'll ever be able to provide in prose format but can absolutely write as a bullet point list.

In S1, Xena doesn’t accompany Gabrielle to the Academy, though she volunteers to take her “at least as far as Athens.” Why would Xena not volunteer to accompany her all the way to the Academy if she’s gonna go all the way to Athens anyway? Could it be… because everybody knows her there and would be like “oh hey what’s up Sappho?”?????

Xena won’t read Gabrielle’s scrolls until S5! Which is also really sus!!! WHY NOT SAPPHO?? Already too much hero worship? Can’t stand ur girlfriend’s early writing? (She’s working on it!!!) Don’t want to end up turning every cuddling and canoodling session into a writing tips session?? (Okay valid, but - )

Which is another thing!! There’s a certain point at which it’s gone on for so long that there’s no way Xena can possibly reveal she’s Sappho, simply bc Gabrielle would never believe it. Like can you imagine - hey, Gabrielle, I just came back from the dead/we’re about to be crucified together/you just delivered my child and now we’re moms, I have something to tell you.

I mean, consider the fact that when we do see Xena writing, she writes Gabrielle actually beautiful and poetic letters. I mean, can you even believe some of this stuff: [upon the occasion of their being merged into the same body] “In the same way that the world shares day and night, and never sees the same two together” [and all our personal favorite, upon going to the Norselands by herself] “Whatever happens, know that my love for you is endless.”

Does this sound to you like somebody who is not good at writing? Bc it does not to me!

I know, I know, now you’re gonna ask me - but what about all those sold out Sappho concerts? It’s hard to hide from your wife that you’re THE rock star of the ancient world. Au contraire! They split up often enough, sometimes we don’t even get a reason for why they’ve decided to do so.

Salmoneus is absolutely her stage manager, and it’s a running joke how often he’s 1) almost given it away to Gabrielle and 2) how oblivious Gabrielle remains despite that, probably bc she quite logically thinks there’s only room for one famous bard in her and Xena’s relationship.

Which leads me at last to: Many Happy Returns.

We're to believe that Xena went to all the trouble of not only a) buying tickets to a Sappho concert for Gabrielle (for which she, a detail-persnickety long-con-runner, forgot the dates? twice???) but b) getting an audience with her? and c) commissioning a poem from her??? which Xena then d) very unconvincingly playacted not knowing what said poem contained???? The poem was clearly the intended gift all along, sure, but I’m twirling my mustache re: why…

(*cough* it’s bc she was actually in cahoots with Aphrodite during Many Happy Returns to both plant the idea of meeting Sappho as a plausible thing Xena might have done and then distract her from the dangerous idea fact that there’s a suspicious connection between Xena and Sappho *cough*)

Also insert your Xena(Sappho)/Aphrodite headcanon here all “Ode to Aphrodite” style

In conclusion! Xena: Warrior Princess is actually the story of one bard who writes about the woman she loves and one poet who finally wrote a poem for the woman she loves in the triumphant series finale.

#lovewins!!!!!

[simplee-dreaming]

The Runner

(Part 2 here)

A/N: Okay so I've been writing this for a while and only just finished it but I'd like to know whether you guys would like me to turn this into a series? This part works well as a stand-alone but can easily turn into a series if you would like!

Word count: 3194

Summary: The reader works as a runner on the set of Infinity War and developes a bond with Chris Evans.

(SPOILER WARNING: There is one spoiler for Infinity War in this fic, but I'm sure many of you have seen it anyway)

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“Black coffee for Mr Evans please! Black coffee!” A man called over the radio. Your ears pricked up and you ran into the kitchen to make a black coffee. You came charging back out and headed straight for Chris Evans’ dressing room, but his assistant jumped in your path.

“I’ll take that to him.” He said, snatching it out of your hand.

This was your first time working as a runner and you were starting to get the hang of the job. You had only been working there for three weeks and you had about 8 months to go. You were highly excited to work for Marvel, being a fan yourself, but you hadn’t met any of the cast or even the directors. You had caught small glimpses of them but never had any interactions. You had a lot of responsibilities as a runner - making tea and coffee, handling the paperwork, assisting anyone who needed it - and yet you were just chopped liver to everyone on set.

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

Another month had passed and you had grown closer to the other runners, the kitchen staff, the cleaners and even the third assistant directors. You were far more comfortable in your job and you even had the opportunity to stand with the third assistant director and watch them film Loki’s death scene...though not your favourite thing to witness.

You still hadn’t interacted with any of the cast but you were used to that by now. It was mainly running orders for everyone and handling the secretary-type roles, which you didn’t mind doing anyway.

Call after call came over the radio with people demanding all sorts of coffees and teas and hot chocolates and cold drinks. Enough to keep you on your feet during the long days. There was a break in demands when they were setting up ready to shoot another scene so you stood with your work friends for a chat before the room had to fall silent. One of the runners let out a small gasp and directed you with their eyes. You turned around to see Chris Evans walking behind you, heading onto set. He turned to you all and gave a little nod and a smile before carrying on. Your heart fluttered. Chris Evans just acknowledged your existence. A stream of small shrieks and giggles came from your group as everyone tried to compose themselves before filming commenced. That was your day made.

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

“Black coffee for Mr Evans please! Black coffee!” A man called over the radio. Same guy every day, always his assistant. You quickly marched into the kitchen to get his coffee ready before anyone else did. Strong black coffee with one sachet of sugar. You grabbed the cup, marked it with Chris’ name and strolled over to his dressing room. Once again your luck had vanished when his assistant jumped in front of you and grabbed the cup.

“The order is absolutely correct, yes?” His assistant asked, like he did every time you brought the coffee.

“She makes it the majority of the time, I’m sure she has the order right by now.” Said a voice from behind you. You turned around to find Chris Evans smiling at you. You gave a shaky smile back.

“You know, you make my coffee all the damn time and I don’t even know your name.” He said. You gave a shy giggle. There was a pause.

“So...what is your name?” He asked.

“Oh, um, sorry, yeah, it’s Y/N”, you responded.

“Y/N. Very pretty name. Well, thank you Y/N for the constant coffee. I’ll make sure you deliver them straight to me next time.” He winked at you and you giggled again. His assistant cleared his throat.

“Mr Evans you’re needed in makeup now.”

“Yes thank you Darren. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Chris?” He huffed. He gave you one last smile and walked off. You were in heaven.

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

A week had passed and you hadn’t interacted with Chris since. Every time there was a call for his coffee, you were busy doing other jobs. You had sorted out multiple paperwork, made drinks for crew members and you were currently assisting the cleaners in cleaning up a very messy set after they had stopped shooting a scene. You didn’t mind because the cleaners were all lovely people, plus it gave you a bit of a break before running all over the place. You were kneeling on the ground sweeping up the smaller bits with a dustpan and brush until a pair of feet suddenly appeared in your eyeline.

“Missed a spot” came a voice from above you. You looked up to find Chris Evans towering above you. He winked.

“You’re everywhere at the moment. I’m sure this isn’t in your job description.” He said.

“It’s not, but the more hands on deck, the quicker this gets cleaned.” You shrugged. “Plus, I don’t mind, all of these people are lovely to work with.”

Chris smiled at you and bent down to help.

“You’re an A-List celebrity, you shouldn’t be cleaning up this mess.” You said.

“You’re right. I’m far too big of a diva to clean.” He replied. He flicked a tiny stone at you and you gasped.

“Now is that any way to treat your staff?” You teased, throwing a bit of soil on him. He laughed and you continued to throw bits of rubbish at each other until Darren appeared.

“Oi! You there! What do you think you’re playing at?!” He asked you.

“Oh, I’m sorry we were just..”

“Chill Darren, I was helping her clean up and I started the rubbish fight.” Chris interrupted.

“Well, you need to be resting. You have a big scene coming up.” Darren huffed.

“It’s fine, I was resting then I got bored and now I’m having fun.” Chris responded.

“Fun? With a runner? I highly doubt that. You best head to makeup and get yourself cleaned up.” Darren said to Chris. He then shot you a glare and marched off.

“Sorry about him, he’s very pompous.” Chris apologised.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.” You said. Even though you were used to people degrading you for being a runner, it still hurt when they did.

“Well you shouldn’t be.” Chris said. He reached out to squeeze your shoulder but was interrupted by Darren yelling “CHRIS!” at the other end of the room.

“I better go before Sir Shouts-A-Lot yells at me again.” Chris said. You let out a little laugh and watched him leave.

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

Two more weeks had passed and you had only spoken to Chris on the odd occasion that he would pass you on set. Every time there was a coffee call, Darren made sure someone else made it to stop you two from interacting. You couldn’t see what his problem was but you chose not to kick up a fuss anyway.

When your break finally came around, you grabbed a cup of tea and decided to walk around the studio...just so happens that along your walk was the caravan park where all the actors stayed on set. You heard a familiar voice behind you and your heart dropped.

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing back here?”

You froze.

You slowly turned around, ready to face the wrath of Darren, when, to your surprise, Chris was standing there grinning.

“Good impression, no?” He chuckled. You let out a long sigh.

“Jesus, Chris, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” You scorned, but you couldn’t help smiling,

“On your break?” He asked, gesturing to the tea in your hand.

“Yeah, only a short one though. I get to finish early today.” You said.

“Oh nice! I’ve already wrapped for the day myself. Say, did you want to do something when you’re finished? It’s cool if not, I just thought it would be nice for us to actually talk and maybe become friends? Without the demon on my shoulder.” He said. You smiled instantly.

“I finish in 2 hours, I would love to do something!” You said, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

“Okay okay, um, I have a few movies back in the caravan if you wanna pick one later?”

“Sure, sounds like a plan. I’ll run over as soon as I’ve finished.” You smiled at him.

“It’s a date.” He winked at you and walked away.

Time was moving slower than ever. You kept checking your watch to see how much time had passed but it was only ever a couple of minutes. You decided not to look at your watch for a while and carry on with your duties. The next time you looked at your watch you had half an hour left. A wave of excitement came over you and you went back to finishing up your jobs.

Finally, the time had come.

You finished the jobs you were doing, collected your belongings and clocked out. Butterflies swarmed your stomach as you walked off set and into the caravan park. That’s when you realised you had no idea which caravan was Chris’. You walked up and down and scanned each one, careful not to look like a creep. Suddenly, the door of the caravan on your right opened and Chris stepped out.

“You’re not lost are you?” He asked, smiling.

“I wasn’t sure which was yours, they all look the same,” you said, shyly. He chuckled and invited you in.

You stepped into his caravan. There wasn’t a lot of stuff as it was only a temporary home, but it was still enough to produce a warm ambience. He gestured at you to sit down on the sofa, opposite the tv.

“I have chocolate, popcorn, sweets...salad...what do you fancy?” He asked.

“They’re all fine...except for the healthy stuff, that ruins movie time,” you said. He laughed and poured the sweets, chocolates and popcorn into separate bowls and placed them on the table in front of you.

“Drink? I’ve got fizzy drinks, water, hot chocolate, tea, milkshake...um...black coffee…” he said, you chuckled.

“A milkshake might be nice if that’s okay?” You asked, he nodded and said he was gonna have one too.

You couldn’t help the mix of nerves and excitement flowing through your body. You were sat in Chris Evans’ caravan...with Chris Evans! It really was a dream come true. You tried to calm yourself before you had a fangirl attack but it meant you came off quite shy and quiet.

“Here we are,” he said, placing the milkshakes on the table. “Are you warm enough?” he asked. You noticed you were sat on the sofa looking quite tense. You nodded.

“I’ll get blankets just in case,” Chris said. He went into his room and came out with two large blankets. He passed the softest one to you. You thanked him and adjusted yourself, taking off your shoes so you could sit cross-legged on his sofa with the blanket draped over you. This made you feel a bit more relaxed.

“So, um, what do you fancy?” he asked. You bit your tongue to stop you replying with “you”, you felt it was far too soon in your friendship to make a joke like that.

“Um, Captain America?” You joked. He giggled.

“Nuh-uh, not happening. Try again,” he said.

You had a small discussion on the types of films you like and you settled on Deadpool. Still a great Marvel film, just one that doesn’t have Chris in it so he didn’t have to stress about watching himself.

Chris put on the film and sat next to you, he grabbed his own blanket and draped it over his long legs. He offered you food and you kindly accepted. You both sat in silence whilst the film began, though you kept having to bite your lip to stop you from smiling so much.

About 45 minutes into the film, Chris started to get fidgety, so he tried to adjust himself without making too much noise. In the process of moving his hand, he accidentally scratched the sole of your foot. You let out a squeak and pulled your foot away.

“Sorry, sorry, that was an accident,” Chris said, apologetically.

“It’s okay,” you said, relaxing a bit but praying that he didn’t notice your squeak. You didn’t notice him giving you a side-eye with a puzzled expression on his face.

He sat still for a few minutes then went to adjust himself again, this time deliberately scraping his nails against your sole. You squealed louder and tucked your foot under your leg. You looked over at him and he had a wicked smirk on his face.

“You’re not ticklish by any chance, are you?” He asked, the corner of his lip curling up.

“N-no, you just made me jump,” you said, unconvincingly. He narrowed his eyes but let out a “hm” and turned back to the film.

You were a lot less relaxed now. You were ridiculously ticklish but only a handful of people knew. The trouble was, you did enjoy being tickled but you were always embarrassed by how ticklish you were. Your heart was pounding at the thought of Chris Evans discovering this weakness.

A few more minutes had passed and you couldn’t properly relax. You were still sat cross-legged but your foot was tucked further under your leg this time. Chris let out a little yawn and stretched, you flinched at his movement but still kept your cool. He noticed and tried to hide his smile. When he put his arms back under his blanket, he casually let one hand slide over and gently tickle your toes. This time you let a small giggle slip out and you clamped your mouth shut.

“I think you are ticklish,” he teased. Your heart did a somersault. He gave you a playful smirk and the nerves washed over your body. You couldn’t even find the words to speak. He reached over and grabbed your foot with one hand, pulling it out from under your leg, and he used his other hand to tickle your sole. You shrieked loudly and tried to tug your foot away but his grip was too strong. You couldn’t even twist that far away because of how you were sitting. You fell backwards into the sofa and kept giggling.

“Chrihihis plehehease,” you giggled.

“Aww look at you, you’re so ticklish,” he cooed. You lifted up your blanket to cover your bright red face.

“Oh no you dont,” he said. He stopped tickling your foot and lunged at you, pinning you down to the sofa. You screamed at the sudden attack and pulled the blanket further over your face. He shook his head and vibrated his fingers into your tummy. You shrieked loudly and used one hand to bat away his hands.

“Come on, I wanna see your face when I tickle you,” he said. Your laughter shot up an octave when he started squeezing your hips.

“Oh? Did I just find a bad spot?” He asked. You kept trying to bat him away with one hand but it was no use.

“Remove the blanket or I’m gonna make this worse for you,” he said, sternly.

“NEHEHEVER!” You shrieked under the blanket.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shot his hands under your arms and you screamed loudly. You couldn’t keep holding the blanket over your head with him tickling deep into your armpits. You slammed your arms down and the blanket fell off you in the process.

“That’s better, I can see your face when you laugh now,” he said. The feeling of his fingers wiggling deep into your armpits was absolute torture.

“Surely it doesn’t tickle this much?” He asked. You shrieked loudly and your laughter grew more desperate with every tease.

“Does it tickle more when I mention how much it tickles?” He asked, clearly aware of what he was doing.

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUP!” You cried. He laughed with you which made it worse.

“Ohh, cootchie cootchie coo,” he said in a high pitched teasing voice. That made you scream more and frantically try and buck him off you.

You thought that would be the killer move? Oh no. Not for Chris. He picked up the pace of his wiggling fingers in your armpits and bent down to nuzzle his beard into your neck. His longer hair brushed over your ear too. This was the killer. It was absolute torture. He blew a raspberry into your neck and you fell into silent laughter. You couldn’t cope with him tickling your armpits, his beard tickling your neck and his hair tickling your ear. He laughed into your neck and the vibrations were the final straw. You started hitting his shoulder with as much force as you could and he sat back up, removing his hands.

“Sorry, I went a bit too far. Are you okay?” He asked, getting off of you. You lay there, sucking in deep breaths, and nodded. Your face was the deepest shade of red it had ever gone.

“Are you sure?” He asked, giving you a hand up.

“I...I...” you began, he looked at you with a concerned expression on his face. “I’m okay,” you breathed out. He gave you a soft smile.

You were more in shock at the fact you had just been ruthlessly tickled by Chris Evans. You couldn’t speak, your heart was pounding ten to the dozen.

“You’re quite possibly the most ticklish person I’ve ever met,” he said. Somehow your face went an even deeper shade of red.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you blush,” he cooed.

“Shut...up..” you whispered.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, shuffling closer to you.

“Yeah, I’m more than okay,” you said. He raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you liked that?” He asked, a hint of teasing in his voice. You blushed and tilted your head down.

“No. Way. You enjoyed that didn’t you?” He asked. You blushed once again and gave a very small nod.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get more adorable,” he said. “Little Y/N enjoys being tickled.”

You looked up at him. A wave of playfulness came over you.

“I’m so gonna get you,” you said. Before he could protest, you launched yourself at him and tackled him to the sofa. You wasted no time in squeezing his sides.

The laughter that came out of him was one you had never heard before. It was so warm and genuine and it only made you want to tickle him more. You giggled at his weak state and switched between tickling his sides, armpits, tummy and ribs to see which one made him laugh the most. It was clear that he was enjoying himself too.

“Aww is Chris ticklish too?” You cooed, surprised at your sudden confidence. You were met with a chorus of begs and pleads but you couldn’t stop yourself tickling him.

It was a really cute afternoon with just the two of you. But you were both too distracted to see who was outside the caravan, watching as you both ruthlessly tickled each other.

Darren.

[winchesterxxi]

A Human Wiretap (Poe Dameron x Reader)

GIF BY @captain-flint​

Rating: G (General Audience)

Type: Fluff

Summary: While in Kijimi, Reader is shocked by the revelation of Poe having been a spice runner before becoming a Resistance pilot, unaware that he knows about her own secret

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: None

A/N: let the stream of Poe content commence

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

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Kijimi was the last place you wanted to be right now. You had always known of this place to be infested with pirates and all the lawless beings of the galaxy, the country being practically a crime heaven.

The destination had been appointed as The Thieves' Quarter, the place you were told you could find Babu Frik, and to your unrest, your husband seemed to be able to navigate the streets of the foreign planet pretty well, occasionally stopping against a wall at any given corner, looking around for any threats.

“Are you sure you never came here?” you ask one time while leaning against his side on a cold brick wall, waiting for the safe sign.

“Not really.” He says looking over at the snowy empty street, before turning his head back at you for a split second “Coast’s clear, let’s go”

And just as he took the first step to round the corner, an armoured woman came into view pointing a blaster at Poe’s face.

Not even allowing a second to process another thought, you reach for your own blaster, pulling it from its holster and aiming it perfectly so that it was secured in the direction of the person’s head on both of your steady hands.

“Heard you were spotted at Monk’s Gate. Thought He’s not stupid enough to come back here.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” Poe mumbles from his stance.

“Blaster off him. Now.” You warn from your spot, a scowl upon your face, ready to shoot, in case she dared to make another move.

“Zorii!” Poe exclaims in fake enthusiasm, before snapping his head quickly between the two of you. “She won’t ask twice, I would listen to her”

“You pull that trigger, you’re next, honey.” You assure her, readjusting your fingers as to place a stronger grip around the camera.

“She used a pet name, she’s serious.” Poe nods and nervously warns the woman whose weapon was now closer to his forehead, almost pressed against it.

“We’re only here to find Babu Frik, we don’t want no trouble.” You tell her cordially, expecting to explain your presence in the clearly unwelcoming planet and maybe have her help you. You eye the woman up and down, eyes scanning the shining golden armour, before settling on the deep black visor.

“Who are you?”

“Honey,” Poe speaks, being careful not to make any sudden moves that could make the woman pull the trigger “this is Zoriii. Zoriii, this Y/N, my wife.”

You are a little taken aback by the fact that they seem to know each other fairly well, given the assurance that Poe had just given you moments ago, that he’d never step foot on Kijimi.

Her helmet turns to you “Wife?” she scoffs “I guess there really is someone for everyone.”

“You have no idea.” he smirks, a momentary lapse, and you snap a look at him.

“I could pull this trigger right now.” She says, pushing the blaster harder against Poe’s head, and you take a step forward.

“You do that, my blaster is the last thing you’ll see in this life.” Sharp words leave your mouth, both you and Poe knowing damn well that you were badass enough to keep the promise.

“Babu only works with the crew. That’s not you anymore.” Zorii says, still talking to Poe, as if your presence and the one of your weapon aimed at her is non-existent.

“What do you mean crew?” you ask her, and for a moment, her attention is directed to you, before slowly tilting once again in your husband’s direction, whose hands were still up in the air in a surrendering feat.

“Oh your wife doesn’t know?” her voice, goes up an octave, clearly amused by whatever is about to unfold. Your eyes scan between the two of them waiting for some kind of explanation of whatever secret conversation was going on in front of you. “Funny he never mentioned it…”

“What is she talking about?” you question Poe but he gives himself no time to utter a word at you, just quickly waving his hand and facing Zorii.

“Zorii, married people are still allowed secrets- “ he tries but she is too quick to reveal the information you were dying to be delivered.

“Your husband was part of the Spice Runner Gang.”

You can’t stop your jaw from going slack at the revelation, not being able to form any coherent words and instead just moving your mouth like a fish out of water, dwelling on whether you felt hurt, angry or any other emotion of the rush that caught you in that moment.

Poe’s shoulders slump slightly and he bites his bottom lip, eyes closed in frustration. He then turns at you, hands still up, as you were still gripping the blaster, which was now pointed at him as he was walking towards you, cautious steps, one at a time.

“I can explain.”

“You were a smuggler? AND A SPICE RUNNER AT THAT?” You drop your blaster to your side, stepping towards him, your brain having decided on anger as the momentary emotion.

“Y/N-“

“In 2 years of marriage NOT ONCE did it occur to you to mention that!?” you yell the two middle words, incredulous at your husband’s secret, having spent your whole relationship that he had always been a resistance pilot, just like he had assured you.

“Oh, don’t act like I’m the only one with a secret here!” his hands drop to his side, and he is no longer trailing in front of you like a lost puppy looking for forgiveness but instead returns to his conflictual side, a defence mechanism, you’ve come to learn.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you scoff, genuinely clueless as to what he could be referring to. And definitely not expecting him to voice the secret you fought years to keep.

“I know you’re a Sywalker!” he says loudly, and its as if your spirit has left your body, the blood draining from your face, and for a moment you forget that breathing is a necessary bodily function.

“H… How do you…”

“The week before we got married I-…” he takes a deep breathe in, running a hand through his wild curls, now dusted with white snow. “I heard you and Leia.”

Poe was making his way to the X-Wing hangar when he stumbled across an ajar door from where he spotted your figure passing across it and disappearing multiple times.

It wasn’t until he stepped closer and leaned against the wall, that he got the full picture.

You were pacing back and forth in an empty resting room of The Radus, pattering your boots across the white floor as Leia sat by the window, looking at you in this impossible frenzy, fingers pressed against your mouth while the other hand rested on your hip.

Your motion comes to a halt in front of her, turning on your toes to face her.

“Should I tell him?”

“I think you should do what you think to be the right thing.” Leia answers her, reaching forward to grab your nervous hands in hers.

“We’re getting married next week, but I don’t think telling him would be any good…”

That’s when Poe’s heart sank to the bottom of his chest, tightening at the implication of your wedding and a number of awful possibilities running across his mind as to what you could be hiding from him.

“He’ll think…I don’t even know. I’ve spent more than half of my life hiding this and if he finds out… What if he thinks I’m a freak? And…And just leave me?”

Poe, from across the door, inches closer, curiosity getting the best of him and brows furrowing.

“Y/N, honey, Poe has been around plenty of force-sensitive people. I can assure you that my niece being one won’t scare him away.” Leia assures you while giving your hands a firm squeeze, and you let your head fall back, closing your eyes.

Wait, what? Poe was really trying to connect the dots at the amount of information that he had been bombed within this short amount of time.

“Not the daughter of Luke Skywalker.” You sigh.

“You knew?... All this time…” your eyes brim with tears.

Poe turns to Zorii who still stood behind him, the blaster having been lowered.

“Can you…give us a moment?”

“Who the hell do you think you are to be asking favours right now?” she snaps but Poe’s eyes plead at her for a single ounce of sympathy. “I’m staying right here.”

Poe turn around to face you, still very aware of the blaster pointed at the back of his head and he lowers his voice so that only the two of you can share the conversation.

“Honey…”

“You still married me?” you are looking down until you speak, watery and red eyes finding those of Poe who’s demeanour completely changes upon your question. He rushes to your front, gloved hands finding your upper arms, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “You knew I was lying to you and you still… you still…”

“Honey,” his hands slide up from your arms to your cheeks “Look at me. I love you. I know why you did it. I probably would’ve done the same. I’m not mad, never have been, never will be.”

You were fighting the urge to ramble on, but upon looking into your husband’s sincere eyes, you relaxed your whole body and he takes that as a cue to pull you in for a hug. With your face flush against his chest, you mumble an apology, fists tightening around the fabric of his cloak.

“I’m sorry… for snapping at you earlier. It was very hypocritical of me.”

Poe smiles against your forehead, before placing a tender kiss against its warm flesh.

“It’s okay, honey, I swear. At least…at least I think I owe you an explanation.” Poe takes a deep breath in “I… When I was a teen, still living on Yavin 4,… their ship crashed near my hometown and I just… I needed out of there, I wanted to be reckless. So I joined them.”

You pull your head away from his chest, craning it upwards.

“Zorri’s mom was… she was the leader of the Spice Runners and she had this plan of inviting other crime lords here to form alliances, but she really was just planning on killing them. Zorii offered to fight against her with me and take control of the Spice Runners but I was done. Honestly, I wanted a better life.”

“And you got it. Congratulations.” Zorii’s voice makes the two of you snap back at her, Poe’s hand rushing down to your side, grabbing your hand and stepping slightly in front of you. “You know, I’m still digging out of the hole you put me in when you left to join the Resistance.”

Her helmet then turns in your direction and you have no time to manoeuvre the blaster back to pointing at her, afraid that she’d shoot.

“You. You’ll do.” She says referring to you “A Skywalker. A bounty for her might just cover us.” She says and you frown at the word us until you find your peripheral vision starting to get dotted on the sides by equally armoured soldiers who you assumed to be Spice Runners.

“Djak’kankah” she commands.

“Don’t djak’kankah” Poe pleads, knowing the meaning of the word.

Just then, when you perceive that the smugglers are running in on you, you quickly snap up your blaster and take them all one by one with perfect aim, sliding your leg under Zorii’s feet and akeing her fall to the cold ground right in front of you, both of you pointing your blasters at each other.

“We could really use your help. Please.” You huff, trying to calm your beating heart from the adrenaline of the previous moment.

“Not that you care…But I think you’re okay.” She breathes through the helmet.

“I care.” You let a sly smile tint your lips, sliding your blaster back into its holster and offering the woman who just seconds ago was dead set on killing you your hand.

When she is hoisted back to her feet, she walks ahead of the both of you signalling for her to be followed but as she is about to pass Poe she throws him a few words.

“She’s a keeper.”

“Don’t I know that.” He smirks, turning back to see you walking to catch up to him. Before you can say anything, his gloved hand is already pressed against your cheek as he brings his lips down to crash against yours.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” You whisper against his lips “But I still need to-“

“You can tell me all about it tonight. While laying in bed. No rush.” He smiles assuringly at you and you swear if you didn’t have a mission at hands you would melt into his embrace for as long as the galaxy aloud you to.

“Let’s find that droidsmith.” You smile at him, before placing one quick kiss against his jaw and walking towards Zorii, leaving the former Spice Runner, current lovestruck Resistance Pilot, completely enamoured and stunned behind you.

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TAGLISTS

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@blondekel77​  @pedrobreakmyback​

POE DAMERON TAGLIST

@niall2017​​​

[ramp-it-up]

Scene Stealer

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Minors DNI, a little angst, some language, a smidge of jealousy, but mostly just fluff! No smut! 😃 All errors my own.

A/N: This an ask from @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs for the Show Runner AU.  I really love these two. Hope you enjoy, Loves! 💚

Read the previous part, Sundancer .

Hi lovely! Idk if your still doing requests right now? If you are can I have a fluffy/soft-ish moment between Rafa and reader? In the Showrunner AU and reader is actively filming a scene and Rafa's being difficult, lol

Your relationship was the talk of the town, especially since you accompanied Rafael on the red carpet of his latest win; it also happened to be your first nomination.

Ever since you went public, you were content with being ‘partners.’ You, especially, said there was no need for anything more. You didn’t want to tie Rafael to you, because you didn’t own him. 

Art was the most important thing, not a conflict diamond and a piece of paper.

Rafael quickly agreed. After all, it had been his manifesto. You two had a perfect understanding. Until you got this role. 

This gig required you to dance, and you hadn’t used your classical training in a while. You were nervous as hell.

“Who does music videos with this big a budget any more?”

You just rolled your eyes as Rafa as he delivered the shade. He would never outright say that he didn’t want you to do it; he always supported you, but you could tell it bothered him.

There was a slight tension in the air in the days leading up to filming, but you both pretended nothing was up. You were busy with rehearsal, so you brushed the thoughts of this shift in your relationship aside.

Maybe he was a little tight because you told him that the singer could definitely get it during a cast party before you two were a thing. Except in Rafael’s mind. 

Rafa had taken mental notes on everything about you, and this one he didn’t forget. But, he loved you, and he was going to ride for you.  Right?

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

On the day of the shoot, Rafa pulled up to the studio at about 1:30. He agreed to meet you there when you invited him for moral support.  You’d been there since 11 am.

He shook his head to himself as he was shown to your dressing room, lamenting the fact that he didn’t bring Diggs, because he would be the one needing moral support today.

Rafael knocked on the door and heard you say, "Come in!"

He walked in and saw you in a big, poofy, but short wedding dress. A more elaborate ballet tutu, but still definitely a wedding dress. Rafael was thrown for a loop, so he just stood there, taking you in.  He felt like he was breaking a rule, looking at you in this dress.

You looked absolutely amazing.

The make up artist was working on you, but you turned around and grinned when you saw him in the mirror.

Rafa felt like he needed to sit down. 

"What do you think?"

Rafael actually couldn't think. He looked down and noticed that you had your pointe shoes on. They matched your skin tone perfectly and extended your lovely legs. 

He began to feel warm, a heat which began in his chest and radiated throughout his entire torso. But he was a thug.  He tried to express it.

"You look beautiful...." 

His throat was dry. What the fuck was wrong with him?

To you, Rafa looked a bit like a fish, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out.

"What?" You cocked your head at him.

Rafa recovered and moved toward you. ‘Keep your cool,’ he thought.

You  shrugged at him, turned back around to the mirror, and continued. 

"I would never actually wear anything like this. It's too poofy and big. Too princess-y. Not my style." You grimaced.

"You look beautiful." It finally came out.

Rafael smiled, feeling an overwhelming desire to kiss you. The makeup artist exited and Rafa was left staring at you in the mirror again. You were a vision. 

He cleared his throat, deciding to lighten the mood.

"Can I climb under that dress and do what I want to do?"

You threw your head back and laughed. Once again, Rafael was caught in your spell.

"I'm working babe, but we can arrange something later..."

‘Whatever you say, my love,’ Rafael thought. 

But what he said was, "Cool."

--------

When filming started, Rafael stood out of the way behind the camera to watch. It was a church scene and apparently what you had to do was dance down the aisle to the altar for the wedding scene.

You were lowkey checking for Rafa, and everytime you looked over, he was glowering at you, the set up, or back seat directing. You could read him like a book, and he was not amused or positive about this.

That only made you more tense and out of the zone. You began to regret inviting him.  What was his problem? Was he jealous? He was being an ass, and you were going to tell him about himself later.

You ignored him as you stretched to get ready for another take. You were not going to let him ruin this for you.

---------

Rafael saw you and melted. He watched, mesmerized, as you danced toward the star of the video. Rafael’s heart clenched when you reached them and kissed them lightly on the lips. 

It happened at least six times for the different takes and angles, and Rafa had visions of dragging you away from there, but he remained calm.

Rafael had no idea that his emotions were so loud. All pretense, all acting skills, all professionalism went out of the window the moment he saw you in that wedding dress.  

He just did not think this production was up to the standard of you. And he caught on to the interactions between you and the star of the video between takes. It was not cool

You  ran through a couple more takes and finally it was time for the last scene, the love scene.

You were whisked back into your dressing room for a wardrobe change. Rafa paced up and down in the hallway to calm himself down. After a few minutes he thought it worked.

Until you came back out.

You were in the sexiest black nightgown he'd ever seen. And those heels. You looked hot as fuck. But when he looked into your eyes, it was clear that you were terrified. 

"Rafa, I don't think I can do this. I'm not feeling it…” Nerves were getting to you. 

“They are sooo not like I thought they were. They're kind of…. There’s no chemistry. And I’m a hack actor if I can’t do this…”  You bowed your head, ashamed.

Rafa hooked his fingers under your chin and brought your head up. He looked at you sternly. He was angry. But not at you.

“Energy up. Expectations down.” 

You tried to respond with a brave smile, but you were really about to burst into tears. Rafael grabbed your hand and pulled you back into your dressing room. He made sure to lock the door.

You thought you knew what he wanted.

“Rafa, we don’t have time for that, I…”

“C’mere.”  

Rafael hushed you and grabbed your hand, pulling you into his embrace. His large hand was on your lower back, and he held your other to his chest, beginning a slow dance to music only he could hear.  

You looked up at him quizzically and raised your eyebrow.

“Rafa, what…”

“I know that we talked about not seeing the need for marriage in this crazy world, and that we are married to our art, but take a little mind excursion with me…”

You fell into rhythm with him as he began to whisper-sing “Hideaway.” 

…See you’ve had the wrong plan

been sipping the wrong wine

Ay ay… let me put you on my vibe.

“Imagine we’re dancing at our wedding…”

You snapped your head up and looked in his emerald eyes. They twinkled down at you.

“I said, ‘imagine.’ This is just an exercise.”

“I would write a new song just for you and sing it while we’re dancing and get you wet for me but make you wait until after we party all night with our friends to get some.”

He smiled down at you and you were with it, getting into the fantasy. You swayed with him a little longer and smiled back up at him. Rafael’s stomach flipped.

So of course he twirled you away from him and back into his arms. His hand moved down your back to your ass.

“Seeing you in this would be the perfect wedding present. Imagine me waiting on you, not wanting to wait any more to touch you, taste you. Make you a mama.”

You stopped and stared at Rafael.

“….That’s quite the imagination you have there…”

Rafa stared back at you. “I am a creator. I create wild musings.” He turned you around to face the mirror. 

“Use it.” 

He put his hands in your satin covered hips. 

“Pretend you’re a woman who would want that. Marriage. A husband who would cherish you and try to make you happy.” 

Rafael bent down to hug you from behind, pressing his cheek aside yours.

You gazed at your reflections in the mirror. In that moment at least, you were that woman.

Rafael kissed your neck. You closed your eyes and you felt it before you opened them, but when you did, he had stepped away.

“Now go out there and pretend that person is what that woman wants.” Rafael looked at you in that way one more time before he cleared his throat and looked down.

You straightened up and walked toward the door. 

“Thanks for the fantasy, Cash.” You looked back at him.

Rafa winked at you. “Anytime.”

——-

Three hours later, after you’d killed the scene and production had wrapped, Rafa waited for you in the parking lot, smoking and dialing Diggs on the phone.

“Whattup. D. I need you to talk me out of buying a rock.”

--------

Tag List:

@braidedchallah @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @anh1020 @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonybitch

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft Edition, Har-Akir Arc, part 2

GM: Last time on the yawning portal runners Ravenloft edition. You guys arrived in Har Akir, the land of mummies. You ran into Nima, who was running a scam that was scummy, you got in a mess with the local constables, who are dummiies, and found out about Kat's family, who are all extremely punny. Gorbash: “Not Funny!”

Marshal: "We do not muck with hippos.” Jonni: “The fuck’s a hippo?” Willow comes up, "You know those mammoth things youtalk about? Think them, only they go in the water.” Jonni: “Are they worshipped by fuck sticks?” "One of the local gods has a hippo head yes." Simone says.

Simone: ”Anyway, I thought I'd yet you know. that my brother has decided to write and star in a satirical one man show protesting my treatment today. So if you have to save his stupid ass from being hanged later this week you'll know why.”

Gorbash: “And this is why Irost is New Eddie.” Jonni: “Only if I’m allowed to set people, your brother included, on fire.” Simone: ”If he's not lit on fire he wont learn anything.” Jonni: “I could do it now, save us the trouble.”

Edmund: “I do not have a magical gambling problem. It was one time!” Gorbash: “Did you forget the riverboat?” Edmund: “It was two times! Two times is not a problem!” Marshal: “The only reason you still have your soul was because Poom drew a full Exodia.”

"Young man, did someone send you to deliver this scroll? I wonder who would have such a message for us.” “Any of the people here who hate us?”

Maggie takes the scroll and opens it "Ezra dammit I can't read this moon speak.” Edmund inspects the scroll, adjusting his glasses. It’s written in Har Akir Hieroglyphs. Jonni: “Eye, bird, other bird, backwards facing guy, sexy lady, sexy lady…”

"Dearest daughter, welcome back to the land of your birth, please come home for dinner tomorrow night. Bring your pet birds and any other of your companions you think will amuse us." Maggie raises an eyebrow "Did they just call us pets?” Jonni: “Fireball’s got a long range. They’ll never know it was me.”

"I'm not a thief, I'm a treasure hunter. Big difference. Besides they probably have the town guards bribed big time.”

"Look we can't murder the in laws before we even meet them. Save that for the Festival of Thanks. Or when politics comes up.”

"If it comes to it, I can excuse us by playing the missionary card. They'll leave us be if I present pamphlets.”

Irost: “I'd love to entertain, but I’m in the middle of writing my one man satire play.” Simone: “I. WILL GET. A HOSE.”

"We can be the bigger people here. “ "In my experience being the bigger person is overrated.” “You’ve never slept with a storm giant, then.” Gorbash: “I'm pretty sure we have the moral high ground... also Marshal and I are probably bigger than them.” "If they are bigger than you two, I will be worried.”

“Can I Rob [sic] them?”

"At least wait until after we eat, Jonni. Never pass up a free meal.” 

 "As kin to our hosts, Maggie has right of first refusal regarding loot.”

Gorbash: “We'll see how the evening goes. If its just unpleasant and awkward, swipe the silverware and other small valuables. If they really suck, looting everything not nailed down and breaking out the crowbars is always an option.”

"Foreign gods are not recognized here. Under the law, I have no authority and thus no strong feelings one way or the other regarding larceny.”

"We're gonna totally fuck with my moms Peacocks.” “I can cast polymor…. Oh with. Sorry.” "No no keep talking."

"I have a bad feeling about this. We're going to have to fake being dead again before this is all over.” "But we haven't used plan #4 in a while, it will be fun.”

“Can’t sleep. Hippos will eat me.”

Poom is dragged around by her voices to look in "antique" shops. Yog-sothoth: "And this is a brain-plucker: they jam it up the nose to drag out the head-meats, which they think are just some kind of cooling system.”

Edmund: ”Do we need to take gifts? Would it be rude to show up without something?” Gorbash: “...In that case I would only suggest bringing a gift if you can find one with a blatantly insulting meaning to it.” Jonni: “I usually bring the smallest dong I can find when I do that.”

“Which one is the god of curing impotence?”

Emblaming tools: you only ever use them when someone's dead.

Kat holds up a tiny statue of a Hippo headed god "Behold Sute, who sows despair and discord.” "A god of chat rooms.” “Good, bad, it’s the god with the gun... and a chainsaw, apparently.”

"Please don't. Mummy Rot is NOT to be joked about.” Azathoth: "Depends on the affected part.”

"Let's just focus on being political with Kat's family... Polite on the surface, mildly insulting under excusable sleight-of-hand expressions..”

Nyx: ”It is when they have enough power to snuff out your life without you having even a chance to fight back. Semantics.” Gorbash: “Life is sadly filled with many things with that sort of power.” Marshal: "Yes, I too am familiar with capitalism.”

Kat: ”I imagine we will be at open blows before desert. My mom is the Goddess queen of microaggressions.” Gorbash: “Well I'd lay money that we're better at open blows than your folks.” Jonni: “I’m better at macro aggressions.” Gorbash: “Just remember not to set the place on fire while we're in it.” Jonni: “I promise nothing.” "Some of us aren't fire resistant.” Gorbash: “Well not everyone is born with it. Can't be helped.” Marshal: "Nor access to the elixirs of Maybelyne.”

"That's only because Jonni is very careful not to burn us. She shows alot of restraint considering what she COULD do…" Jonni: “THANK you. At least SOMEbody noticed.” "I notice every time. It's why I have no problems traveling with you. You are in no way a Pyromaniac. You are a Pyro-saniac.” Poom: "I thought she was a Nymphomaniac.” Gorbash: "She is. Jonni contains multitudes.” "She is a mani[y]-maniac…"

"Only 40 Mauve peacocks. Peasants in the eyes of Vesh.”

Poom doffs her cloak to the mummies. Which may or may not mean she is now naked.

Jonni holds out the statue. “Yo. We got you this gift. It’s a statue with a head of one of those hairless bears in the river.”

"Oh Sweetie you made it. And you brought the circus, how thoughtful.” It seems like mom is deep into her third cup of wine of the evening. "Oh, it looks like the circus was already here before us, with all that make-up I thought you were a clown.” Azathoth: "Clowns have better accents.” "I know, Azathoth, but I'm trying not to push it just yet.”

Jonni: “Oh, I plan on putting on a show.” Poom: "Just make sure we survive.”

Gorbash: “As Jonni usually says... Don't threaten me with a good time.”

Poom: "Roast kenku never smells that good.”

Jonni: “Oh, if you like, I can regale you of tales of my affections.” Kat’s Mom: ”Oh I bet a lovely lady like you turns all the young men's heads.”

There is the sound of three Elder Gods going "Da fuck?”

Jonni tosses cat-mom at the Guards and turns off polymorph. Guards: "You may come with us to the hall of judgement and WHAT THE DEVIL?” Jonni: “CHEESE IT!”

Jonni: “I don’t care if you’re innocent of not. Fuck everyone that was in that room.” Poom: "I'd object, but I have eaten people.”

"Oh Gods, I left Katerninetales back there.” Gorbash: “Do we need to make another round of cat-knapping?”

"The dad checked out long ago and is avoiding showing any emotions to keep his sanity.” "Ah. Minimum wage experience.”

"He probably had a little miniature town in his basement he meticulously reconstructs as a hobby.” The two kats look at you "You are really on point with the insights." "He imports these little connecting brick toys form Borca. It’s weird.” Poom: "I thought those were disguised caltrops.”

"Okay, someone has to stay here with Kat and her brother, who is going with Marshal to rescue the wife?” "Irost, which way is the moon?” "Up there, obviously.” "Ah, a volunteer. Thank you.”

“I can fly.” "I can create holes in walls.”

Gorbash: "Jonni, an excuse to mess with Nima just came up!” Jonni: “Mess with or kill?” Gorbash: “At least the first, probably the second as well.” Poom: "There needs to be a line?”

"Yeah. I know where it is. And we are NOT going there. You will die.” "Not the first time.” “Everyone says that. It never takes.”

"No idea, but anything that touched the ground was eaten alive.” Poom: "Sounds like Thanksgiving at my family's place.”

"Even if they're horrible. Family is family.” Poom: "Yours isn't trying to eat you alive.”

"After we get her ring can we please just end Nima once and for all? Pretty please." Nyx makes puppy dog eyes.

“What, exactly do you want?  The longer you talk the greater the odds I kill you and fish the ring out of the ashes.”

"But just because we don't trust each other doesn't mean we can't be of use to one another.” "Mutually assured sudden-yet-inevitable betrayal. A distressingly common occurrence to us.”

“No one controls Jonni. Jonni can’t control Jonni!”

"We'll just be borrowing your ten-foot Poky Stick of Knowledge, though.”

OOC: This sounds like a situation that ends with riding a skeletal T-Rex. OOC2: Considering where we are? A Mummy Rex. OOC3: Nah, giant mummy hippo the size of an elephant.

OOC: If the book contains rituals… I may have a plan. OOC2: Use the book to rid us of Oloch? OOC: Two plans.

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 10 - Shooting Star (Part 2)

The Ekiden continues!

Now that I finished the novel, I’m not sure what to do with myself now (work on my other translations lol)

Full list of translations here

Previous | Next

As he ran, Nico-chan recalled the phone call Kiyose had made to him when he was at the Odawara relay station. As dispassionately as ever, Kiyose had said,

“How are you feeling, Nico-chan-senpai?”

“Same as usual.”

“That’s good to hear. Please run as usual today.”

“Does that mean you don’t expect anything from me?”

“Of course not. What I mean is that Yuki ran exceeding our expectations, but don’t be influenced by that.”

“Hmph,” Nico-chan had sniffed. He wasn’t going to get so fired up by Yuki’s deeply impressive sprinting that he would lose sight of his own abilities.

“Well, I’ll go steadily.”

“Nico-chan-senpai,” Kiyose had said in a formal tone, “please maintain a pace of three minutes per kilometer. I’m sorry I can’t make it easier for you.”

“Haiji, come on.” Nico-chan scratched his head. “If you wanted it to be easy for me, then it would have been easier to not run at all. I wouldn’t have had to go on a diet or quit smoking. It was never going to be easy no matter what pace I’m running at. I’m just happy that I was able to get a healthy body, so don’t complain about how I rank either.”

“Yes.” Kiyose had seemed to be smiling. “Then, see you at Otemachi.”

He hadn't been lying about what he said to Kiyose: it would have been easier if he didn’t run. However, Nico-chan didn’t regret taking up track again after a long break; the pain of running, mixed with the joy of working toward a common goal with people close to him, had become sweet, and it was a taste he had long forgotten as he earned his own tuition and lived an independent life on his own.

With the wind blowing down from the mountains of Hakone at his back, Nico-chan ran. The seventh leg, which ran from Odawara to Hiratsuka, was 21.2 kilometers long. On the whole, the course was flat and easy to run. The route was the same as that of the outbound fourth leg, running in the opposite direction toward Tokyo, but it was slightly longer due to the detour at Oiso Station.

The first three kilometers, until they reached the town of Odawara, ran downhill, albeit gently. If he got carried away and increased his pace too much, the later half would be tough, so Nico-chan tried to keep his excitement and nervousness firmly in check and pace himself to fit with his stature.

That Haiji, he’s really good at observing people, Nico-chan thought. When he received the sash from Yuki, he was excited. At the same time, he also had a strong sense of pride, so he restrained himself from getting too excited and rushing in the first half. Kiyose probably read his personality and his relationship with Yuki and put Nico-chan in the seventh leg. Of course, he also must have thought that the seventh leg, with its few ups-and-downs, would be easier on Nico-chan’s legs and would be able to bring out his abilities to the fullest.

The thin rain continued to fall and his hair was now completely damp. It was easier to breathe on a rainy day than in the dry air. It was also fortunate that there wasn't much wind; running would have been out of the question if, on top of being soaked by rain, there had been a cold wind blowing from Hakone. The temperature was about one degree Celsius. It was said that the seventh leg was a course where the difference in the temperature could wear you out, but thanks to the rain, he didn’t seem to have to worry about that today. He would be running along the sea from now on, and the closer it got to noon, the more the temperature should increase.

The only problem is that my uniform is getting damp and sticking to my skin. Nico-chan frowned slightly. The lines of his body were clearly visible, making him feel as though he was running naked. Well, it’s been like that from the start.

Nico-chan wasn’t a fan of the light material of the running shirts and pants. Long-distance runners, men and women alike, had slender figures. Of course they had strong and supple muscles, but they almost looked like gazelles and antelopes. Such athletes would look good in uniforms made with a minimum of fabric, but unfortunately, Nico-chan was big-boned. Thanks to his diet, he was able to lose the extra fat, but he couldn’t whittle down his broad shoulders, imposing hip bones, or sturdy femurs.

When Nico-chan wore a uniform made of small, flimsy cloth, it looked as though there was an extremely large amount of skin showing. And now, it was wet and clinging to him.

It’s not like I’m a fat mermaid who was thrown up on the rocks, Nico-chan thought, embarrassed. I guess I should have at least trimmed my leg hair. To think that my hairy legs in all their glory will be delivered to living rooms all over the country.

He glanced at the legs of the runner running next to him. This guy’s leg hair isn’t even close to looking unsightly. Is it because he was born with thin body hair, or because he takes good care of it? Right after he thought that, he was shocked to realise that there was another runner next to him. Was he about to have another runner catch up and overtake him without realizing it? Nico-chan vigorously checked next to him, and then turned his head back to the road.

The runner next to him was from TSU, and he must have received his sash at the Odawara relay station about ten seconds before Nico-chan. He didn’t catch up to me, I caught up to him. Nico-chan checked his watch to make sure he was keeping pace. Okay, he nodded inwardly. I’ll be able to pull ahead of this TSU guy.

However, he couldn’t see any of the other schools in front of him. He had no idea what place he was running in, or what Kansei’s actual position was taking into account the delayed start time.

It was an unsure battle, so much so that his wet uniform was no longer a problem. As he thought that, Nico-chan entered the town of Odawara. There were crowds of people cheering by the road and waving flags, and among them there was a face that looked like a member of the shopping district, holding up Kansei’s banner and shouting something, but he couldn’t make it out because it was all mixed up in the surrounding chatter. It seemed that the only way to get information was to get it from the coach car behind him at the five-kilometer point.

For the time being, Nico-chan focused on maintaining his pace and pushing their nemesis, TSU, away. With only the landlord in the coach car he wasn’t sure if he could get the right information, but behind the landlord stood Kiyose, the shadow coach of Kansei University. Even at this moment, Kiyose should be working hard to gather information and advise the landlord in giving instructions to ease Nico-chan’s mind. Despite the fact that his own turn was approaching.  

Nico-chan trusted Kiyose’s ability as a coach. Kiyose was the second fastest runner after Kakeru on the Kansei team, but what made him stand out above all the others was his ability to see and allot people into roles. If it weren’t for him, they would have never come up with the idea to aim for Hakone, nor would they have actually made it this far.

Kiyose often ruled the residents of Chikusei-sou with an iron fist. However, he never blamed the residents for their inexperience in running, nor did he make light of their feelings and pride; he always tried to thoroughly teach the residents how to face running independently in ways that suited their personalities.

Because he had once experienced a setback in track and field, Kiyose was able to guide the residents of Chikusei-sou, almost all of whom were beginners. He had kindness, strength, and a conviction and passion for running. Nico-chan knew that very well, because he had also devoted himself to track until high school.

As soon as Nico-chan entered university, he quit track altogether. He saw no hope in running. As a high school student, he had taken the sport seriously—it was painful and tedious to set goals and run day after day, but he loved the act of running itself.

However, as Nico-chan got bigger, his bones got heavier. No matter how much he loved to run, as long as the competition was based on time, there was always the issue of physical aptitude. Of course he could run faster and for longer than other men his age, but it was difficult to see how he could continue to compete as a long-distance runner and aim for the top. That difficulty became apparent in his third year of high school; Nico-chan’s frame and disposition to store fat made him unsuited for long-distance running, to the point where it was hopeless even with effort.

Joining the track team in university, becoming active on a corporate team after graduation and then even competing on the world stage—he wondered how many such athletes were out there. The higher you aimed, the more you felt the brilliance of those with natural talent, because you had enough experience and practice to grasp your own ability, and you were made to realize that there were states you could never reach. In the face of his own stubbornly growing body, Nico-chan felt powerless.

Nico-chan’s misfortune was that he didn’t have a mentor to show him that it was okay to keep running even if he wasn’t a competitive athlete, and that if he loved running, he could enjoy it. Because he was still young and dedicated to track, at that time he felt like if he couldn’t attain great success as a runner, then it was all meaningless, and Nico-chan was so disappointed in himself that he distanced himself from track.

During his long years as a student, he learned how to live on his own and gained experience outside of track. And what he learned was that “meaningless” wasn’t bad. He wasn’t saying that to whitewash things. When you ran, you had to win. However, victory came in many forms. Just as there was no clear form of victory in life, victory wasn't just getting the best time among the participants.

The fact that Kiyose also had similar thoughts encouraged Nico-chan. It was both pitiable and absurd that he foolhardily thought there was only one way to victory when he was in high school. By distancing himself from running, Nico-chan had grown up, and with his sympathy and trust towards Kiyose, he threw himself back into days of running.

Kiyose was an excellent commander. He knew people’s pain, but he also knew the cold-heartedness of the world of sport. He understood all the differences in values and had driven on his mishmash of a team with a tenacious force of will and passion.

It’s Kakeru, who continued to give Haiji that passion, Nico-chan thought. Kiyose couldn’t leave it alone—he couldn’t leave Kakeru’s shining talent that was hard to come by alone, even after he got injured.

What’s amazing is that the two of them get on so well. Nico-chan wiped the raindrops from the bridge of his nose. It seemed that Kiyose and Kakeru were inspired by each other in every aspect, not just in running—at least it seemed that way to Nico-chan. They were moved by each other’s virtues and annoyed by each other’s faults. In other words, it's a proper bond between two fellow humans, Nico-chan thought. There was definitely something beautiful like friendship or love between those two; they could communicate to each other through running and their hearts. Nico-chan thought it was a miracle that the two of them met.

Nico-chan wanted to watch the connection and clashes between Kiyose and Kakeru forever. He wanted to see that very noble human state brought about by the act of the running.

That was why they had run together for the past year, and they were still running as hard as they could. As he passed through the town of Odawara, the TSU runner was falling back little by little. After crossing the Sakawa River, the rest was a straight road along the sea, and Nico-chan wondered if he would really be able to see the figure of the runner in front of him.

At the five-kilometer point, he heard the landlord’s voice from the coach car behind him.

“Nico-chan, right now, you’re running in thirteenth place. Koufu Gakuin should be 30 seconds ahead of you.”

The Koufu Gakuin runner for the seventh leg had a ten-thousand-meter time of 29 minutes and 10 seconds. He was a much faster runner than Nico-chan, and it was all he could do to keep the gap from widening. Nico-chan listened closely and analyzed the information he was given.

“In addition, Kansei’s ranking with the addition of the delayed start time is…” The landlord raised his voice through the microphone. “Sixteenth place at the end of the sixth leg!”

Even with Yuki sprinting and coming in second for the sixth leg, we’re still in sixteenth place? Nico-chan felt overwhelmed as he thought about the future. However, considering the fact that they had finished eighteenth in the outbound leg yesterday, they were slowly moving up again. The only thing to do was not give up now and hand over the sash with an even slightly better time.

“There’s a message from Haiji: ‘There is hope. Please don’t relax your pace.’ That’s all!”

Nico-chan raised his right hand slightly as a sign of acknowledgment. That’s right, there’s hope. It would be impossible for Kansei to win the Hakone Ekiden. They had already come in at eighteenth for the outbound leg, and even in the seventh leg of the return race, they had failed to make any remarkable progress. However, they were still in a position to aim for the top ten, where they would get seeded.

The reason why they were aiming for a top ten finish wasn’t because they wanted to participate in next year’s Hakone Ekiden unconditionally. They wanted to definitively bring an end to this battle with only ten people one way or another. They didn’t want anyone to say again that it was pointless for a team that didn’t even know if it would have enough runners to win the seed rights.

It wasn’t about meaningfulness or meaninglessness—they would run as much as they could now to show the proof and pride of what they had done.

Nico-chan’s arms, which were filled with heat, repelled the pouring winter rain.

---

King, who was running the eighth leg, and Musa, who was his attendant, were at the Hiratsuka relay station. King, who had just finished warming up, was running around the relay station, going to the restroom, and refusing to stay in one place. The relay station and the roadside were already packed with spectators, and King was nervous.

Musa decided to leave the restless King alone. No matter what he said to him, King wouldn’t stop wandering around like a hamster spinning in a wheel.

Well, he will settle down when he is tired. It is not a good idea to get tired before a race, but it seems that I have no choice but to let King-san do what gives him peace of mind, Musa decided. King had surprisingly sensitive nerves: if he was forced to hold back his movements, the tension would build up inside of him and he might explode.

That was why Musa was sitting alone on a plastic sheet spread out in a corner of the relay station, checking the progress of the race on his mobile TV. After cheering Yuki’s success, he was now watching Nico-chan’s running. Every once in a while, the screen would show him running the seventh leg. He was currently running near Ninomiya, a little past ten kilometers. There were many small ups and downs due to the bridge over the river, but he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead and carried his legs in a steady form.

King finally regained his calm for a short while. He stopped running and sat down next to Musa.

“How is Nico-chan-senpai doing?”

Musa passed a blanket to King, who was peering at the screen.

“His pace has not slowed down. However, the gap between us and Koufu Gakuin University is widening. The opponent is faster.”

King wrapped himself in the blanket and began to do stretches while sitting.

“Our position?”

“It has not changed. We are running behind Koufu Gakuin and in front of TSU, so he is apparently in thirteenth place, but our overall time is still in sixteenth place.”

“Ah…”

King let out a sound that was somewhere between a response and a sigh, and rested his forehead on his stretched knees. When he was still, his body naturally trembled with anxiety.

“Yuki’s run was incredible.” King’s voice was cheerful, as though to shake off his tremors.

“It was. I am sure Shindou-san is pleased as well.” Musa smiled. The two of them remained silent for a while, staring absentmindedly at the scene in front of them from a low vantage point. The relay station was as lively as a fair, with runners, staff members, and spectators coming and going. Only the space around Musa and King was quiet, as though sound and time had left them behind. It felt like they were isolated in a tank filled with tension.

A pair of legs clad in track pants appeared in their fields of vision and stopped. When they looked up at the same time, they found TSU’s Sakaki looking down on them.

“It looks like this will be the last time the Kansei track team will be in Hakone. I guess you can say that it’s a good thing you don’t have to worry about a lack of members for next year.”

The polite and quiet tone of his voice made it impossible to ignore. King was about to stand up indignantly, but Musa grabbed the edge of the blanket and stopped him. Sakaki had also been entered into the eighth leg. He was about to run and he expressly came to talk to King, who was running in the same leg. Musa sensed Sakaki’s nervousness and pressure there.

“You still don’t know yet,” Musa replied calmly. “It is also a close call as to whether or not TSU can get seeded.”

“And right now, you guys are running behind us,” King fired back at Sakaki with sarcasm.

“Only outwardly. Besides, I’ll overtake you in the eighth leg,” Sakaki’s words were filled with strong determination. “It’s not just you, I’m going to overtake all the schools ahead of us.”

Heh heh, good luck, King muttered in his head.

“Why are you so worked up over this?” he asked out loud. Sakaki’s eyebrows shot up like broken windshield wipers.

“Of course I’m going to get worked up over this. This is the Hakone Ekiden. I’ve been running all my life to be in this event. Since middle school! You lot who are joking around and running for fun might not understand, though.”

“We are not running for fun.”

King was surprised when Musa said that and stood up abruptly. He faced Sakaki and continued, “There is no such painful playing as this. Sakaki-san, you should know that very well, yet why are you picking a fight with us? King-san will be setting off soon. Please do not say things to irritate him.”

You’re so cool, Musa. King, still wrapped in his blanket, looked up at Musa with feelings of reliability.

Behind Sakaki were the reserve upperclassmen for TSU. During the summer camp, the upperclassmen hadn’t been aware of Kansei, but that was not the case now, of course. “Sakaki, what are you doing?” they called out. They were worried about Sakaki, who was standing facing King and Musa. Sakaki, however, didn’t turn around.

King suddenly felt sorry for Sakaki. Starting with Kakeru, it wasn't only the Kansei members that were his rivals, but even his fellow TSU teammates were as well. He was so devoted to running and loved it so wholeheartedly that everyone around him was his enemy. He didn’t get along with anyone, didn’t get familiar with other people, and only cared about the times and rankings of other runners.

King felt pity for Sakaki, who could only face running in such a way. Putting his blanket aside, King stood up from the plastic sheet.

“Hey, are you having fun? You’ve always dreamed of being in the Hakone Ekiden, and now you’re going to run it. So why don’t you seem to be having fun at all?”

“Is it necessary for me to have fun?” Sakaki wasn’t shaken in the least. “This is a race.”

“It is, but…” King thought about how to put it in words. “Our captain, Kiyose, often says, it’s not enough to be fast. A long-distance runner has to be strong. I think he probably means that we should enjoy running.”

“How naïve,” Sakaki’s brows moved again. You guys are hopeless, he said, as though chiding a little kid for playing in the mud.

“If you want to make good memories during your school days, then have fun. It suits you guys. But I’m different: I fight and fight and win competitions. That’s why I run. I don’t want to be like Kurahara and degrade with the weak.”

“What did you say!” King quickly threw away the pity he had just felt and yelled at him, but Sakaki walked away quickly, seemingly satisfied that he said what he wanted to say.

“He really pisses me off.”

Musa soothed King, who was gnashing his teeth. “There are some good points in what Sakaki-san said.”

“That might be, but I’m still pissed off, so I’m calling Kakeru!”

King took out his phone from his jersey pocket.

---

Kakeru had just finished a light jog and was about to return to the Totsuka relay station. As he was thinking that his body was loosened up and that one more run after some stretching would be just perfect, Jouji, who was in charge of their bags, beckoned to him.

“Kakeru, your phone’s ringing.”

He accepted his phone from Jouji and checked the display. He thought it would be Kiyose, but it was actually King.

“Yes?”

Before he could ask if anything was wrong, King’s loud voice attacked Kakeru’s eardrums.

“Kakeru! You have to be number one! Make that annoying brat frustrated and drown in a sea of tears! You understand!?”

King talked on and on one-sidedly, and then hung up. He was so angry that even the people around him could hear him from the receiver.

“What was that just now?”

“Who knows…”

Kakeru and Jouji looked at each other.

“It’s pretty rare to see King-san so excited.”

“The only times he’s like that are when he’s participating in a push-button quiz show from outside the TV.”

“Oh, I got it!” Jouji pretended to push an answer button. “TSU’s Sakaki is running in the eighth leg, right? He must have said something to him at the relay station.”

That also seemed like the correct answer to Kakeru. King seemed to have forgotten his nervousness in his anger, which was good, but when he thought about how much Sakaki hated him, he felt miserable.

He didn’t intend to show his sorrow on his face, but Jouji seemed to sense it.

“You should just let it go,” he said and clapped Kakeru on the back. “I do want you to be number one, though.”

“Of course I’m going to run to make that happen, but…”

Jouji wasn’t purely cheering for Kakeru, but also seemed to have some other meaning in his words. When Kakeru looked at him, Jouji smiled shyly.

“I’m thinking of confessing to Hana-chan when Haiji-san crosses the finish line in Otemachi. Oh, I can’t wait.”

I see, Kakeru nodded. So Jouji is hoping for a quick race.

“But Jouji, even if you hurry from here, I’d be doubtful if you can make it to Otemachi in time for Haiji-san to cross the finish line.”

“No way, really!?”

“Probably. I watch the TV broadcast every year, and the runners who finish the eighth leg often don’t make it back from Totsuka to Otemachi within the broadcast time.”

“What should I do! Should I head for Otemachi right now?”

If it was for love, Jouji would abandon his attendant duties.

“I don’t mind, but I think Haiji-san will find out and drown you in a sea of blood.”

“You’re right.” Jouji began to writhe in agony. “I’ll have to make sure with my own eyes that the sash is relayed to you. I wonder if Hana-chan will wait for me.”

Hanako would wait for the twins to come to Otemachi no matter what without being told to. Even if it was until nighttime or she got buried under heavy snowfall. Kakeru thought that, but only said, “I wonder.” Kakeru was pretty dense, but Jouji’s denseness was as vexing as watching an armadillo move forward. It was probably fine to tease him this much.

As Kakeru laughed at himself inwardly at this narrow-minded revenge, someone called out to him, “Kansei always looks like they’re having fun.”

When he turned around, he saw Fujioka of Rikudou University standing there. He seemed to have been listening to the exchange between Kakeru and Jouji, and he had a smile on his face that reminded Kakeru of the Buddha in Nirvana. His smooth-shaven head was as shining as ever on this cloudy day.

“Wait, wait, this person is…” Jouji tugged on Kakeru’s sleeve.

“Happy New Year,” Kakeru greeted.

“Please treat me well this year as well, okay?” Fujioka said, like he was poking fun at him a little, and then his expression immediately turned serious. “The time has finally come.

“Kurahara. I’m going to set a new record for the ninth leg.”

Kakeru was overawed for a moment at the bold declaration. Fujioka wasn’t saying he was simply going to get the section prize—he wasn’t saying that he would be the top runner in the ninth leg of this tournament, but that he would be the top runner of all the runners in the ninth leg in the history of the Hakone Ekiden.

A new section record. It was a sign that one had broken a great record that had accumulated throughout the history of the Hakone Ekiden. It had a great significance, changing from the position of a challenger to the position of a transcendent competitor who was looked up to and pursued. In particular, the record for the ninth leg had not been broken for the past five years. For the runners of Hakone, setting a new section record was its own glory.

“I will break your record, Fujioka-san,” Kakeru proudly lifted his face and declared. “I think you will be the holder of the new section record for about ten minutes.”

Even Jouji trembled in surprise and fear at Kakeru’s audacious declaration of war. Fujioka of Rikudou would be the first to receive his sash and start running, no matter what. Even if he sets a new record, it will only be a “new record” until I, who departed late, arrive at the Tsurumi relay station, Kakeru had said bluntly.

Jouji stealthily examined the two of them standing their ground. Both Kakeru and Fujioka had a fighting spirit and anticipation for each other’s running in their eyes. Nobody could touch them, nobody could force themselves between them. It was a collision of pride.

Fujioka Kazuma of Rikudou University, the champion, and Kurahara Kakeru, the ace of Kansei University, the mishmash group. The people at the Totsuka relay station noticed the flames of spirit the two were emitting, and their hearts beat fast.

The time had finally come. The time had come for the clash between running prodigies, fitting for the finale of the Hakone Ekiden.

---

There was no sign of anyone to follow, and no sound of footsteps trying to hurry and catch up. Nico-chan was running alone on Route 1 along the coast.

Spectators crowded along the road. Right behind him was the landlord in the coach car. At the fifteen-kilometer mark, a water provider wearing a Kansei jersey told him the time difference between him and the runners in front of and behind him. Even so, Nico-chan was alone. Encouraged by the cheers that came off the sea breeze, he had no choice but to run silently, letting Kiyose’s instruction of “keep a pace of a little over three minutes” echo in his brain.

Yes. This feeling of loneliness is long-distance running. Nico-chan thought. Loneliness and freedom, like traveling under a starless night sky. No one but Nico-chan could know his heart rate rising to the limit, his skin slick with sweat that generated heat without time to cool down, the undulating of his muscles along with his blood flow. Until he ran through the predetermined path and reached the predetermined place, Nico-chan would have to continue to fight a battle no one else could understand, without being touched by anyone.

I’d forgotten for a long time. I’d pretended to forget. The sadness and joy of running in this way. It was the residents of Chikusei-sou who reminded me of this. Ever since the moment I quit track, I’ve always been waiting—for another chance to be given to me—for someone who knows my body is unsuited for athletics, but seeks and wants my soul, which loves to run. For a voice to tell me that it’s okay to run.

Nico-chan knew that this was going to be his last run as an athlete. The road to becoming a competitive athlete was not open to him, and it would be difficult for him to keep up with the intense training and still achieve even more than that.

Nico-chan was not chosen, nor was he blessed. If there was someone like that, then they should be called the god of track and field. One would understand if they watched Kakeru from up close. He wished with all his heart that he could be a chosen and blessed runner like Kakeru, but it was a wish that was never going to be fulfilled.

But so what, Nico-chan thought. Even if he wasn’t chosen, he could still love running. The feeling of difficult-to-control love in his heart was like the loneliness and freedom that was contained in the act of running and shone brilliantly within Nico-chan. Now that he had it, it would remain forever, so it was okay. Now he would put everything he could do into his final run, and his long-lasting thoughts towards the sport would end today.

From in front of Oiso Station, he turned north off Route 1 and entered a detour. With less than a kilometer to go, Nico-chan could clearly see a live broadcast car ahead. Behind it, he caught a glimpse of the Maebashi Kouka runner who had slowed down and was falling back. At the same time, Nico-chan felt the presence of someone approaching him. He didn’t have to turn around to know: TSU was catching up.

His mind wandered, but Nico-chan firmly kept it in check. Having run twenty kilometers, the consumption of his stamina was intense. Don’t get impatient. His pace was a little over three minutes per kilometer. He had to keep it up a little longer, and then it was in the last three hundred meters that he had to push.

Nico-chan trusted his senses. Like a bird crossing the sea without the stars, he kept a precise rhythm as he headed for his destination, the Hiratsuka relay station. The wall of people along the road got noticeably thicker with people pouring out of the relay station. The Maebashi Kouka runner seemed to have his chin completely up. This is the place, Nico-chan intuited.

Nico-chan whipped his fevered muscles into a spurt and began his hot pursuit. The TSU runner had the same thought and increased his speed as though flicked. There was the faint taste of blood in his throat, but Nico-chan endured the creaking and pain all throughout his body. The crowd of people at the relay station wavered, and he saw King rush out onto the line. The eighth leg runner for Maebashi Kouka and TSU’s Sakaki were also standing on the line. The three were side by side and calling out to their teammates who were racing towards them.

Nico-chan removed his sash. It was damp from absorbing his sweat, and he gripped it like it was a lifeline. King was the only thing he saw. With only that black and silver uniform in his sights, he ran.

The predetermined place. I’ve returned.

“I’ll do it too, Nico-chan-senpai.”

King, who had been handed the sash, quickly murmured that and then started running without looking back. Nico-chan wordlessly nodded and pushed King’s back. Towards Otemachi.

While flopping down onto the bench coat Musa spread out, Nico-chan stopped his wristwatch which was recording his time. For him, who had crossed the world of timed competitions, he no longer needed it.

Nico-chan’s final record was a 21.2 kilometer run in 1 hour 6 minutes and 21 seconds. He was in twelfth place.

Kansei had relayed their sash at the Hiratsuka relay station in twelfth place. They were four seconds behind Maebashi Kouka, and had relayed their sash at the same time as TSU.

Thanks to Nico-chan’s efforts, Kansei had moved up to fifteenth place in the actual rankings after adding the time from the delayed start. TSU, although apparently behind Kansei, was still in thirteenth place. Rikudou and Bousou were also battling for the top spot, with Bousou holding onto the lead, more than a minute and a half ahead of Rikudou. Yamato University, in third place, was lagging behind Rikudou by three minutes.

Would there be any change in the rankings of the top schools? Who would get the seed rights among the schools that were engaged in a close battle around tenth place? The deadlocked time difference that hid an unsettled stillness didn’t yet indicate anything about the outcome of the battle.

Nico-chan was lying in a corner of the relay station, looking up at the eastern sky. His hopes were not dashed. King, Kakeru, Haiji. Run towards the finish line at Otemachi. We’re going to prove it. We’re going to prove what made us run this far.

His exhaustion had reached its limits, but Nico-chan raised himself up in order to see the end with his own eyes. Musa, who was quietly standing by, gently put a hand on his shoulder to help him up. After gathering their belongings, Musa and Nico-chan left the Hiratsuka relay station with uncooled excitement and set off for Otemachi.

Previous | Next

[i-may-have-a-point]

Review of 17x14 “Look Up Child”

It has been three years since I wrote my last review of a Grey’s Anatomy episode.  After Sarah left, I stepped away from my fan accounts and did not plan on ever looking back.  Somehow though, through the dedication of our captains and the strength of the Japril fandom, we got one more episode that confirmed what we have known all along – Japril is forever.  

The episode opens to Jackson driving through a storm and we can see in his eyes that he is fighting an internal storm as well.  He winces at his injured hand while his mind flashes through thoughts of holding Harriet with April for the first time, the pain of watching April marry Matthew, and meeting his dad.  These moments, along with many others have led Jackson yearning for more out of life, and so he returns to Montana hopeful he will find answers there.

The last thing Robert Avery expects, for a second time, is to find the son he left behind standing in the doorway of his restaurant.  

“Everybody alive?” Robert asks.

Jackson making this journey again, after the way they left things before, could only be for one reason in Robert’s mind.  Jackson reassures him that is not the reason he came, and Robert relaxes easily into his friendly charm, offering coffee and a place for Jackson to “take a load off.”  He has no idea of the “load” Jackson truly bears.

Robert is awaiting the arrival of his co-worker so they can deliver pre-packaged meals to families in need in their community.  This gesture may seem small, but to Jackson, this is a subtle sign that he on the right path.  There is more he can do than what he has found within the walls of Grey-Sloan Memorial. Their small talk is awkward, and Jackson wants to get right to what he came for – answers.  Robert has other ideas.  There are sandwiches to be made and they can talk while they work.

After following Robert to the porch, Jackson realizes this sandwich-making process is going to be more time-consuming than he thought.  And so is getting the answers he came for.  He reiterates to Robert that he doesn’t want anything from him – not turkey, not coffee – just answers.

Jackson presses his dad for information about why he left the foundation, the problems he saw with it, and Catherine’s perspective on it all while Robert deflects the questions with vague answers and praise of the ham and turkey sandwich.  Robert is not ready to answer these questions because answering them would mean dealing with the memories of the past and the regret he carries.  So instead, he smiles kindly and puts Jackson in charge of the meat slicer, which leads to the first moment in Jackson’s life where his dad taught him how to do something. (Although we all know he didn’t teach him well!) This interaction allows Jackson to let his guard down just slightly and they find they have some common views on the Avery name, money, and pressure that comes with it all.  Jackson tries some of Robert’s “best in the state” turkey and Robert opens up about his own shame and abandonment by his father. It seems pain runs through generations of Avery men.

Maybe it is that realization, or the cup of Robert’s coffee in his hand, that makes Jackson relax enough to begin opening up.  He shares his desire to do more to change the system has seen fail so many people.  He isn’t even sure if he can, but he knows he feels compelled to try.  Robert agrees that people should do what makes them happy.  He did and he “never looks back.”

But Jackson does.  He can’t stop looking back and wondering why his dad was absent from every moment that mattered.  

“I realize that it’s really messed me up…pretty badly. And, um, it just made it hard to maintain relationships and stuff.  Having this inclination to run away all the time.  And I know, I know, running away doesn’t actually solve anything.  I know that. So…and I’ve tried.  I’ve tried really hard to rid myself of the shame and the pain that comes with all that, and uh, you know just kind of doubled-down on being the best at everything – the best father I could possibly be.  I probably stayed in my marriage longer than I should have, went along with foundation business longer than I should have, but no matter what, when it gets rough I just end up right there, running into the woods trying to fight the you in me.”

What begins as a tearful explanation builds to all of Jackson’s pent-up emotions overflowing at his dad.  He is distracted and emotional, cutting his hand on the slicer with blood pouring out, while his heart pours out at the same time.  

Robert tends to Jackson’s injury, and they both feel it is a simple gesture that holds more weight than they know what to do with.  Robert tries to make light of the situation by joking about a family practice, but it is the idea of them as family that sends Jackson to find fresh air on the porch. It is here where Robert finally answers Jackson’s question of “Why?”

Running is what Robert does when things get too difficult, and that is what makes Jackson so afraid. He feels the same pull.  Just before he cut his hand, he was running down the long list of things he feels he has done wrong. Does he truly believe he stayed in his marriage too long?  No. But to Jackson that is just one more way he is like his dad.  He is so messed up by the fear of turning into Robert that he breaks things off before they get too difficult, before he gets to the point Robert did.  If he can maintain a safe distance to the important things in his life, he won’t lose them and he won’t be like Robert.  “My divorce…maybe that would have been a good time for you to step in and share some wisdom.”  This isn’t who Jackson wants to be, but he is too scared of moving in either direction – scared of moving both toward or away from the things that matter, like April.  So instead, he suffers in an ambiguous middle ground.  One where he hasn’t completely abandoned anyone or anything and one where he hasn’t fully committed to anything either.  It is a balance he has tried to find for years, but it is also what is breaking him now.  

Truth be told, even Robert cannot fully run from what matters.  From his cabin in the woods, he admits that everyday he regrets leaving, and he buys gifts for a little girl he has never met in hopes that one day he will.

“You’re not a runner. If you were, you’d have been long gone by now…you have it in your soul to do the right thing.  To makes things right.  And you didn’t just fix a disaster, you made it better…on your worst day, you are ten times the man I am.”

And it is with those words Jackson makes his decision.  He is going to do the right thing.  He is going to take what seems like a disaster and make it better.

Arriving back in Seattle, Jackson goes straight to the people who matter most.  

Catherine is his first stop. He needs her blessing to take over the foundation.  Their money and influence can make life better for all people by bringing justice and equity to medicine and build a better future for Harriet.  Catherine’s Mama-heart breaks a little to see him go, but she cannot deny how proud of him she is.

With the rain still coming down, Jackson rings April’s doorbell and stresses over how he is going to approach asking her to move across the country for him.  How can he explain to her that this is not impulsive, this is not something he is doing on a whim?  

Yet, when the door opens, all his insecurities are quickly forgotten because seeing April only reminds him of why they have always been each other’s person and how she has always trusted him no matter what.  She trusted him the night of the boards with her heart and virginity, she trusted him with the decision to induce her pregnancy with Samuel to stop his pain, and she trusted him to run away from her wedding and the life she thought she was supposed to have.  But this is different.  So much has changed in the past few years.  Would she trust him now?

Jackson will have to wait to find out, though, because April is frantic.  Harriet is sick and April cannot get her fever down.  Jackson sees how stressed she is and immediately gives April what she needs.  He takes Harriet into her arms, both consoling her and helping April calm down and have a moment to breathe.  They fall into their usual banter and affectionate teasing.

Their conversations and interactions throughout the episode give us small glimpses of what we should have had the past several years had their story been written they way it should have been.  They naturally fall into their place as the loving, concerned parents unable to sleep while caring for their daughter.  They move through the house and around each other as if this is a familiar dance that they have done hundred times before.

Harriet’s sickness doesn’t seem to be the only thing April is stressed about.  Her living room is strewn with laundry and she quickly tries to clean it up while Jackson reassures her in his “bank voice” that it is fine. Too many pillows, but otherwise, fine. Jackson continues Daddy Duty by dancing with his daughter and April gets a chance to take a much-needed shower…until the storm knocks the power out.

Jackson and April alone at night in a storm, surrounded by candles, is the perfect set-up for an epic reunion, and while they may not have utilized the kitchen counter like we wanted them, too, they did reconnect on a level of clarity and maturity that shows how much they have grown.

There is also that not-so-little issue of Matthew.  Japril fans spotted early on that April was missing a particularly important ring, but it was even more telling when Jackson asked her directly if her and Matthew are happy, and she responded with simply, “We are busy.”  For a marriage that the terrible writing of season 14 wanted us to believe was ordained by God, how sad that you can’t even pretend to be happy. That one line conveyed so much more than what was stated.  It was clear from that point that Matthew and April’s marriage was over.

April is not the only one beating around the bush.  She quickly calls Jackson out on his “cagey” behavior of commenting on her exposed brick instead of saying why he actually showed up at her house late at night in the middle of a storm.  She can read him so well she knows there is something more, which is when we finally find out his plan – he is going to take over the Avery Foundation. The catch is, that means Jackson, as well as April and her family, have to move to Boston.

April responds by questioning if this is what Jackson actually wants because it never was before.  Is he going to move to Boston and then fail or regret his decision?  And while this seems unsupportive and harsh, April has to ask these questions because, as we find out later, that is exactly what happened to her.  She thought she was choosing the right path by marrying Matthew, but not only has their marriage failed, she regrets that they even tried. But Jackson doesn’t know this yet, so to defend his decision he uses Matthew proposing to April as an example of how he unconditionally supported her which not only hints at Jackson’s jealousy, but reinforces April’s fear that making a decision this big may not be the best choice.  She sees happiness for Jackson in the safe choice.  He can continue to rebuild faces, give little boy’s hands, and help people breathe again.  Maybe if she can convince him to stay with what he knows he won’t feel the hurt she is feeling right now. “Why would you want to give all that up?”

Jackson knows he can do all of that and more in Boston.  He can make a positive change in medicine, April can continue her work with the homeless, and Matthew will just follow because it is April, and that is the one reason Jackson likes him.  “He is gonna want to follow you anywhere.”  Jackson understands the urge to follow April anywhere.  The night continues with wine, snacks, and comfortable conversation but they don’t come to an agreement on what their future holds.

The storm breaks and morning comes.  Jackson, recognizing that April has been overwhelmed lets her sleep in, and she wakes up to the sounds of Harriet and Jackson happily eating breakfast and we get a glimpse of their happy, family mornings that we all know Boston will bring.  The three of them laugh and talk over pancakes, orange juice, and throw pillows and April admits that she should have been more supportive of Jackson’s plans.  If only they could get their timing right.  

The morning has brought with it clarity for April and she tells Jackson her answer is yes.  Yes, she believes he is “that guy.” Yes, she believes this could work.  Yes, they are going to Boston.  Shocked and surprised, Jackson offers to help talk to Matthew, but we find out that won’t be necessary.  As most of us suspected, the marriage that should have never happened is over.  One of the best lines of the episode is the slight dig that the writers (Sarah/Jesse?) took at the ridiculous story of April marrying Matthew.  “We kept trying to tell ourselves that our whole winding road was God’s plan to bring us back together.  But he was still so angry and hurt.  I mean, I left him at the altar and his wife died.  You know, you don’t just stop feeling hurt ‘cause it’s a better story if God brought us together in our pain.”  Enough said. And as much as we are not sad to see Matthew go, April is hurting, and Jackson recognizes that.  He takes her hand in a small gesture of comfort because he never wants to see her in pain.  (Thank you, Jesse, for improvising that.)  He gave her a reason to smile again.  Their family has a fresh start ahead in Boston.  

The episode closes with Harriet calling out for “Mommy and Daddy” as Jackson pulls April into a hug before leaving to prepare for their move, and April folds perfectly into his arms where she is supposed to be.  Fingers crossed for new horizons.  Maybe they finally did get their timing right.

[joyfulhopelox]

Pink Camellia

A/N: I love plants and i love learning the meanings of them. I will have to put a disclaimer here, some of these may have multiple meanings depending on where the information is taken from. I went back to the Victorian Era meanings. This is part 1 of 7 of my Love Blossom Series where each member gets to have their own story amongst flowers. I wanted to call this a drabble as i wrote it quickly but i realised 2k is not a drabble but oh well. Hope it's an enjoyable read!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox do NOT repost or reblog. Gif cr

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (non-idol!au, florist!Namjoon, cafe owner!reader)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none it's pure rotten fluff

Word count: 2k

You loved late spring. The cool soft air of spring morphing into the warm glowy summer atmosphere was the perfect time of the year in your opinion. Not only did the milder warmer weather make everything seem so joyful and light-hearted, but the sunny brighter environment caressed your skin as you walked. The cafe was not too far from your house but to get there you had to go through a park. The smell of the freshly bloomed flowers and the sound of children cheerfully playing put a spring in your step as you walked towards your work.

The park through it’s different seasons had its perks. In the summer it was the grounds for family picnics; in spring it was full of couples old and new enjoying their time together. When it got chillier, you could see the odd runner through the brightly coloured leaves and in the winter, the unhindered vastness of the park covered in a blanket of snow. But of course you much more preferred the warmth of late spring, early summer.

You’ve known Namjoon for a while, his flower shop opened just down the road from yours a couple of years back. When you entered his shop for the first time, the array of flowers were arranged in such a beautiful way that it took your breath away. The smells encompassed you, and transported you to a secret garden so that you completely forgot that it was just a shop.

“Hello”

So enraptured you were with your surroundings you completely missed the appearance of a man behind the counter. He stood in front of a now open door that signed ‘Staff only’. So he worked there, you concluded. You smiled at him warmly. “Hello, this shop is lovely. I have never seen such a variety of flowers in one place”

The man’s smile widened. “Thank you for the kind words. I have tried my best to build an understanding of the flowers I am bringing into my shop. I was planning to have one for every occasion, and yet…” he motioned around you “this happened” rubbing the back of his neck you could see the tip of his ears reddening. He was cute when he rambled.

“All the better, they all look lovely displayed in such a way. And the more the merrier” you laughed softly. “So you are the owner” you mused after a couple of seconds of silence.

“Yes, i’m Namjoon...i mean, yes i am the owner” the redness was creeping along his neck now and you could not find it more adorable.

Even if this was just your first meeting you could tell by his warm eyes and soft smile that revealed dimples that he was kind and humble.

“Nice to meet you Namjoon, i’m Y/N” you both shared a smile.

From then on you had been enraptured.

You had not planned to go into his shop every morning before work and pick up flowers to spruce up your cafe. But after one week of doing it, simply out of sheer pleasure of being in between the greens and the smells of the shop, it became habit. But most importantly you found yourself excited in anticipation of conversing with the owner as well. So one week turned into two, three. Until one day Namjoon suggested that instead of you making a trek to his shop, he would deliver flowers to you in the morning before you’d open the cafe. When you argued that it would be too much of a hassle for him he dismissed it, letting you know that he was starting to do deliveries anyways and so it would be no problem for him.

What he failed to mention was that his shop was not open as early as you normally came in to buy flowers. The first day you met was a mistake. A lucky one in his opinion; but a mistake nonetheless. They’d just opened the shop, totally forgoing to put the ‘Closed’ sign on the door. When he saw you in your awed state wandering around the shop, he did not have the heart to tell you they were not going to open until later on that day. You looked almost ethereal, the happy smile on your face giving you a soft glow that the flowers around you only enhanced. You bought a bouquet of sunflowers that day. Loyalty, he noted wondering if that was your favourite flower or if you just bought it on a whim. He made a mental note to himself to ask you next time, wishing there would be a next time.

And there was, there would be next times everyday for weeks. You made it a habit to walk into his shop every morning after that, buy flowers and have a nice chat with the cute owner. Whom, you’d found out was incredibly clumsy. He apologised profusely after dropping a vase full of flowers at your feet, he offered to pay for the dry cleaning of your coat when he tripped out of nowhere and spilled some plant food on you. One day he even managed to get soil into your shoes. You had to give it to him, you had never met anyone so clumsy and destructive in your life. It was impressive. And most importantly, it was cute. The way he reddened from the tips of his ears downwards whilst stumbling over his own words, made your own heart beat as fast as the words that were coming out of his mouth.

When he was not making a mess out of himself of the breakable objects in his shop, you had nice chats about random things. From books- he liked to read you noted, poems- he wrote some, he told you, weather- his favourite season was spring, travels-he seems to have been everywhere; to trivial things such as the food you had that day or the customers that you would get. Little by little you got to know each other. And little by little Namjoon had started to fall in love with you.

Unbeknownst to him, the feelings were reciprocated. Once he had started making deliveries to your cafe every morning, you looked forward to waking up in the morning and starting your day. Being greeted by his warm smile which accentuated his dimples was the highlight of your morning. The first week he had asked you which flowers you wanted delivered.

“I don’t know” you responded thoughtfully. In reality you had no idea about flowers, you loved them, but you did not know anything else apart from what was visible. “Surprise me Flower Boy” you grinned at him.

Once you had given him the go ahead, the types of flowers that he could deliver for you was all Namjoon could think about. All those meanings were swimming around in his head, carnations for love? No, that would be too straight forward. Lilac? Too dark. Sunflowers again, adoration? Maybe too cheesy. He settled in the end for daisies. Simple and innocent.

“Oh they are beautiful” you gushed as soon as you spotted him carrying the bunches into your cafe. Rushing to help him you misstepped and stumbled into him. For someone who was on a daily basis as clumsy as he was, he did a very good job at not falling over with you on top of him. And he congratulated himself for that, he deserved a medal. Your form leaning into him and the warmth of your hand on his bicep was enough to make the blood rush to his cheeks and his heart to pound.

“Oh, i’m really sorry” with a choked voice, he assured you it was no problem.

“I have done enough damage to you in the past few weeks” he grinned. “I’ll take it as a payback” you laughed at that and grabbed some bunches from his arms.

“They are so lovely, thank you” instructing him to put them over near the window, you went behind the counter to start on a drink for him. “Is a latte ok?” you asked over your shoulder. Too lost in his thoughts whilst observing your form he did not answer the first time. Asking again, you glanced briefly at him, noticing the slight dazed look he was offering you.

“Namjoon” you softly called, the intimate tone of your voice finally waking him up from his reverie.

“Ah, yes it is ok” he would not admit that at that moment, seeing you making his drink and the way you softly called his name - it felt like home.

After that moment, he started bringing in Camellias. And only camellias. Pink. The colour of them combined with the neutrals of your shop made everything brighter and lighter. Even in the winter he brought you camellias. At first you did not think much of it. They were lovely and you had an elated reaction to them. So you assumed that he’d thought they were the flowers that you preferred. But when you started noticing certain changes in his behaviour, certain looks, certain smiles. Sometimes he’d space out whilst staring at you doing mundane tasks in your shop. Something was nagging you. Was there a deeper meaning behind the camellias?

You tried asking him, but he gave nothing away. He flustered, knocked over a chair and exited out of your cafe quickly whilst apologising for having to leave so early. And so you let it drop. But the next time he came in, it felt like the air around the two of you had changed. As if there was a secret that was hanging in between the two of you. Something that buzzed around the two of you. Every interaction after that left you breathless.

So you did what any other human being would do when they need answers. You researched on the internet. Pink Camellias. You clicked on the first link, your eyes skimming over the words. Longing for you.

The next day you woke up extra early, determined to make it to Namjoon’s flower shop before he had a chance to come to yours. You had a flower order to request from him. On the way there the smell and sights of late spring put an extra skip in your step. Or maybe it was the thought of the cute Flower Boy you were going to meet? Biting your lip softly you started at the glass door of the flower shop. This time the sign said ‘Closed’ but you knew Namjoon would be in pitter pattering.

Opening the door, you stepped in. “We’re clo- Y/N!” Namjoon emerged through the same door signed ‘Staff Only’. “I’m not late to deliver the flowers, am i?” panicking he glanced at the clock.

You shook your head, it was now or never.

“I thought I would come in early to make a slight change in the delivery” you glanced at him trying to gage his reaction. Confusion painted across his face. Then entering his customer service mode he stepped away from the counter and started looking around.

“Of course, what would you like? We have a new batch of sunflowers in? You ordered those last time so maybe those? Or some flowers that are better in late spring? How about lilacs?” rambling he made his way round the multitude of flower arrangements.

Grabbing his hand to stop him, you sighed. It was now or never.

Stepping closer and closer to him, where you could observe his eyes, you smiled softly. Standing on your tiptoes you reached to place a warm kiss on his cheek.

“I was thinking something more like...roses?”

The silence that followed and his astounded face made you question yourself. Had you misread the situation? Soon though warm arms enveloped you tightly, hugging you to his chest. The rhythm of his heart, the slight pressure of his lips at the top of your crown and the whisper in your hair told you he’d gotten it.

“Love”

Main Masterlist

[bibbawrites]

Never Grow Up - Dad!Owen x Pregnant!Female Reader

Request: none

Word Count: 965 words (she’s a short one, sorry!) 

Summary: part 4 of the Dad!Owen series, Baby Joyner decides to make an early entrance into the world 

Warnings: swearing, implied childbirth (obviously) 

A/N: she’s here!!! sorry i kinda abandoned this series, i was trying to write something and it just wasn’t working so i eventually scrapped it and wrote this in less than two hours lol (so if it’s shit, thats why)  i hope you all like her name, this was the most voted for first name, getting 15/40 of the votes (runners up were theo with 12 votes, mia with 11 votes and aurora with 8 votes) next part will be the cast coming to meet baby joyner enjoy!! 

Tag List:  @happinessinthedarkesttimes @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals @bartok-the-magnificent @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1 @katrina765 @fandomxreaders​ @ifilwtmfc 

You woke up feeling weirdly uncomfortable, an odd pain in your stomach. You gasped at the pain, grabbing your phone to see what time it was. 

2:37am. 

The sharp pain came again and you winced. 

“Owen.” You spoke, shaking your sleeping boyfriend. He groaned, blinking sleepily. 

“What’s up baby?” He mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. 

“I think something’s wrong with the baby.” You said. Owen shot up, suddenly wide awake. 

“What do you mean there’s something wrong?” He questioned. Another pain shook you and you tensed up until it passed. 

“I just woke up and felt really gross, and I’m having these pains.” You explained. “Maybe I just need to go to the bathroom.” 

“Want some help?” Owen asked, already jumping out of the bed to make it to your side. He helped you out of the bed, frowning once you were stood up. 

“Did you wet the bed?” He said, and you looked down at the bed where you had been sat. Sure enough there was a large wet patch. 

“I don’t think so.” You replied, looking back up at him. All of the sudden panic appeared on his face. 

“Oh fuck.” He exclaimed. 

“What?” You asked quickly, your tone matching the panicked look he was giving you. 

“You’re in labour.” He stated, beginning to pace back and forth around his room. 

“I’m what?” Your eyes widened. 

“Fuck, we’re not ready, why is she so early?” He muttered to himself, clearly freaking out. 

“O.” You said, trying to get his attention. 

“The nursery isn’t even painted, we don’t have a name yet.” He continued, clearly not hearing you. 

“Owen.” You tried again. 

“We were meant to have another three weeks to prepare. What if there’s something wrong with her cause she’s born early?” By this point he had almost escalated into a full blown panic attack. 

“Owen!” You shouted, and he froze, looking at you. Behind you the door opened and Owen’s mum poked her head in. 

“Everything okay?” She asked, taking in the scene. 

“I’m in labour and he’s too busy freaking out to help me.” You glared at your boyfriend who had resumed his pacing. 

“You’re in labour?” She repeated, and you nodded, feeling the pain come again, a pain that you now realised was contractions. You gripped onto the bed, waiting out the contraction before speaking. 

“Can you drive us to the hospital?” 

- 

You didn’t even remember the car ride to the hospital, too focused on breathing and trying not to freak out.

You were so thankful that your mother had decided to come down to Oklahoma to help you and Owen set up your new apartment, and even more thankful that Owen’s family had let her stay with them while she was visiting, because now she would be there for the birth of her first grandchild. 

You arrived at the hospital and the four of you piled out of the car, Owen’s mother rushing ahead to get a nurse while your mum and Owen helped you inside. 

Once you entered the building you were rushed onto a bed and into a room, Owen and both of your mothers following closely behind. Once you were in the room and changed into a hospital gown a doctor entered the room. 

“Hi Y/N, my name is Doctor Henry, I’ll be delivering your little bub today. Do you mind if I do a few quick checks?” She said, and you nodded. 

“Go ahead.” You told her and she smiled. She went through all of the different checks, smiling once she stood back up. 

“Do you want some good news?” She questioned, and you nodded. 

“You’re ready to push.” She told you. Your eyes widened. 

“Already? Isn’t this supposed to take forever?” You gasped and she laughed. 

“Not always.” She glanced around the room. “Are you all staying for the birth?” 

“It’s up to you darling.” Your mum said. Owen’s mum nodded in agreement. 

“Stay.” You told them. “I want both of you here. This is your first grandchild and you should be here for her arrival.” 

“What about me?” Owen pouted. 

“Obviously.” You rolled your eyes.

“It’s settled then. If you’re ready I’m gonna get you to give a big push when you get your next contraction, okay?” Doctor Henry said. You took a deep breath, grabbing onto Owen’s hand. 

“I’m ready.” 

- 

At 4:02am on the 16th of July 2020, three days before her father’s 20th birthday, your little girl decided to make her entrance into the world, screaming at the top of her little lungs. 

“Here you go, a perfectly healthy little girl.” A nurse said, placing the tiny baby on your chest once she had been cleaned up and wrapped in a soft blanket. You looked down at her in awe, tears streaming down your face. 

You looked up at Owen, finding him already crying too. 

“We made that.” You said. He laughed, leaning down to kiss your head. 

“We did.” He replied, his large hand covering her tiny back. 

“Do you want to hold her?” You asked him. He hesitated before nodding. 

“Yes please.” 

You lifted her gently, placing her into Owen’s arms, before sitting back to take in the look of love and adoration on his face. Out of the corner of your eye you could see both your mum and Owen’s mum taking photos of the interaction, but your whole focus was on your boyfriend and daughter in front of you. 

“She’s beautiful.” Owen whispered, his finger grazing her cheek as she slept peacefully in his arms.

“Do you have a name picked out?” The nurse from earlier asked with a smile. You glanced at Owen and by an unspoken agreement both of you knew which name you were going with. 

“We do. Olivia Charlotte Joyner.” 

[slippinmickeys]

The Earl (13/13)

This was a labor of love, and I can’t thank you guys enough for sticking with me. For Lin, my science editor, to Fiona and Amanda for beta-ing like champions, you guys were my rocks. Finally, thank you to you readers for keeping up the enthusiasm for this story for far longer than it probably should have taken me to write it. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I do hope its everything you wanted it to be.

To read this in its entirety on AO3, you may do so here. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Mulder, on his horse Hercule at the lead of what amounted to a well-outfitted cavalry, pounded down the stretch of road that led to Harwood Hall, the manse just coming into view. It was all thundering hooves behind him, and he could hear grunts of the horsed men that followed, could feel their thrilled energy at his back, and he was half-compelled to let out the war whoop of his Celtic forebears, riding into battle as they were, ready to save their damsel in distress. If it hadn't been for the generations of genteel decorum bred into him, he probably would have.

The fields lay long on either side of the narrow road, dotted occasionally with sheep and ancient stone fences. The sea shone far to the right and came into the land at an angle, pushing in toward the thumb-sized house like a shining sapphire buttress.

He was armed to the teeth, as were the men with him -- two pistols strapped to his hips and an old but perfectly balanced sword tight to his waist, the sheathed end of it tapping into Hercule’s flank and spurring him on. Walter and his Runner colleague Doggett were each carrying pistols — Doggett carrying an English flintlock blunderbuss in his left hand. Langly, who looked queasy on horseback and was not keeping his seat well, had what looked to be a long flintlock Kentucky plains rifle (said to be favored on the American Frontier), and Frohike, sturdy as a barnacle on his steely grey pony, had the intricately carved handle and stock of a Prussian target percussion rifle sticking out of an odd holster on his back. Byers carried a saber. Mulder couldn't help but wonder what a sight they made rolling along the English countryside at full gallop, their armory glinting in the sun.

As they barreled closer, Mulder could see that the manor itself was not overly large, but had a long fence and tall gate. They would have to get through it just to get on the property. Perhaps riding in like the Roman Legion hadn't been the best idea, but his wife was close -- he could feel it -- and his heart would have nothing but war until she was by his side.

Hercule had energy and heart to give, and Mulder could feel the animal ranging further and further ahead of the inferior horses giving chase behind them. In fact, when he looked back, he could see nothing but road dust and the occasional glint of metal.

Looking ahead, he could now see the house clearly, its brick the color of the sand on the shores surrounding it, and his eye caught movement at the building's entrance. Perhaps the fight was coming to them -- so be it.

He eased back on the reins and murmured a low command to Hercule, who slowed his steps only enough for the cavalry behind them to ease closer, and the figure from the manse -- Mulder could see that it was single figure now, dressed in white -- was moving quickly toward the gate. Perhaps it was a servant who thought Mulder was the post.

He wouldn't give them the chance to discover otherwise.

He pulled his pistol out from his hip and cocked it, skidding Hercule to a halt on the slippery gravel, and throwing himself from the saddle as he did so to land in a crouch in front of the gate. He could hear the other riders pulling in behind him as he rose and raised his pistol to point at the person who had just swung open the weir. He could not yet make out their identity, blocked as they were by the ornate iron lock.

"Stand and deliver," he said with calibrated fury.

And then he saw her face.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Stand and deliver,” said a voice with the steely edge of violence. There was a pistol aimed directly at her nose. It took her only a moment to look past the barrel to the man holding it.

“Mulder!” she gasped, and launched herself at him. His arms came around her with the feeling of home and she allowed herself one brief moment of transcendent euphoria before she pulled away from him.

“Good God, Scully, I-” he fumbled. She had clearly taken him by surprise. The men mounted behind him were all wearing equally shocked looks.

“Away!” she said quickly, “Mulder, we must away!”

Upon the heels of her statement came a calamitous blast, followed immediately by another. The horses threw their heads nervously.

A balding man she didn’t know squared his jaw up and turned his horse away from the house, shouting, “On me!” before spurring away.

Mulder practically leapt upon Hercule’s back and grabbed Scully around the waist, lifting her easily up into the saddle in front of him, and they were away before a third and fourth detonation burst from the house behind them. The other riders, Sir Byers and his associates among them, followed, their horses spurred along by fear. They were barely away when there was an absolutely massive explosion. Frohike’s pony screamed.

Hercule was in the lead, despite having the added burden of a second rider, and rode on, unfazed. After several hundred yards, Mulder slowed the creature, holding Scully tightly to him, and turned the horse to look back on the estate.

There was nothing left. Where once stood a large country house there was now just a smoking crater. Scully felt nothing but satisfaction. She supposed she should feel something for the life that she had taken, but her God believed in an eye for an eye, and so help her, when it came to that man, she did too.

The other riders caught up with them and turned their horses to look as well. The balding man had fine, wire rim spectacles and looked at what was left of the house and then at her, giving her an assessing once-over.

“My lady,” the man said, “you did not, perchance, happen to find munitions somewhere on the estate, did you?”

“As a matter of fact,” Scully said, leaning back into the warm bulk of Mulder, “I did.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Well,” said Frohike as he dismounted his pony in front of the stables at Ashford Park, swinging his Prussian rifle over his shoulder, “we’re all dressed up and we’ve nowhere to go.”

A groom helped Scully dismount, then Mulder swung down behind her, handing over his reins, refusing to let his wife get so much as an arm’s length away from him. The other members of the rescue party were dismounting around them, scattering gravel at their feet and shaking hands.

Suddenly, there was a shout from the manor and Suzanne came careening down the steps and running towards them.

“You’ve done it!” she said, skidding to a stop in front of Scully and then wrapping her up in an embrace, “you’ve saved her!”

“Nay,” said Byers, stepping forward, “the lady has saved herself. We were but an armed escort bringing her home.”

Mulder felt a swell of pride momentarily override his intense sense of relief. His wife; intelligent, capable, resourceful. She had described her escape to the men on their slow ride back to Byers’s estate to the impressed astonishment of the horsed collective -- how she used her extensive knowledge of chemistry to escape the small cottage in which she had been imprisoned, how she found stores and stores of gunpowder and munitions in Spender’s stables and used them to ensure that the man never hurt anyone else ever again.

Frohike himself had asked many questions, and with each answer, he would shake his head and look at Mulder, no doubt wondering what the Earl had done to deserve such a remarkable paradigm of a woman.

Mulder wondered that, himself.

As the group began wandering back toward the house, Mulder pulled Scully aside.

“This must all be overwhelming. And I would like to hear all that happened to you -- when you are ready to share it -- but first, I must know one thing: Did he hurt you? Did any of them hurt you?”

She reached up and cupped his cheek, and he closed his eyes and leaned into her hand.

“Not in the way you fear,” she whispered.

He reached up and put his hand over her own, holding it close. “I would take whatever suffering you have endured and make it my own.”

“Something tells me you already have,” she said. She was more right than she knew. “I would like to go to our chambers now, Mulder, and change out of this soiled and ruined dress. And I would like to take a bath. And then…”

“Then?”

“Will you hold me?”

“I can do that,” he said.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder gently fingered the uneven ends of Scully’s shorn hair from where she lay tightly spooned up into his side. It felt so wonderful to be back in her husband’s arms.

“Does it look horrid?” she mumbled half into the pillow they shared. She knew he had loved her long tresses.

“You could never look horrid. It’s actually quite fetching. It highlights the elegant column of your neck. And if I’m honest, I can’t stop touching it.” He placed a soft kiss to the place where her jaw met her neck and she shivered, finally turning to face him.

“Whatever will the ton say?”

“They’ll say ‘what an extraordinary woman is the Countess of Wexford, and what an undeserving wretch she has for an Earl.’”

“Never.” She reached for his face and he kissed the tips of her fingers.

“I should have saved you. I should have done something about Spender, long ago. I never should have-“

She shushed him. “Mulder, I am frequently underestimated because of my sex. For once, I was able to use that fact to my advantage. I don’t ever want to hear you blame yourself for the reprehensible actions of another. You were not to blame. For any of it.”

He reached out and ran his fingers once again through what remained of her hair, looking at her with reverence. She was silent for a moment before reaching up and touching it, too.

“I suppose my hair will have plenty of time to grow out before we attend any events in Town,” she said.

“You don’t wish to return to London?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.

“Most ladies I know retreat to their country homes for the duration of their confinement.” She watched closely for his reaction, and saw it in his eyes the moment realization hit -- they went from confusion to elation.

“Your… your confinement?” he asked breathily. She nodded, smiling.

He grabbed her face in two hands and kissed her soundly, then pulled back the covers on the bed and moved down until his face was level with her abdomen. He lifted her shift until the bare skin of her belly was exposed, and leaned in to place a reverential kiss there, too. His mouth lingered. He whispered something she could not make out.

She felt a rush of yearning wash over her. “Mulder,” she whispered, and he looked up, his mossy eyes connecting with hers. They didn’t have to speak. He crawled his way back up her body slowly and kissed her softly, his weight resting on his hip, one hand in her hair, the other caressing her with a featherlight touch. She felt desire pool between her legs.

He pulled back and nosed his way gently down the curve of her jaw, flicking his tongue slowly as he eased his way along the column of tendons in her neck. Her head fell back on a blissful moan, and she threaded her fingers through his hair, letting the silken softness play about the skin of her hands, wanting to feel him -- all of him -- reveling in having him back at her side, within her grasp.

He drew back momentarily to pull his white lawn shirt up and over his head, dropping it to the floor. The space between them felt like a sea, and she realized in that moment that however deeply she thought she had loved him before she’d been taken by Spender was a pittance. The love she felt for him in this moment threatened to overwhelm her. She longed to feel him against her, inside of her, every unyielding edge and hard plane of him; she wanted to take all that he was and absorb him like water, like air.

She reached for him.

XxXxXxXxXxX

He marveled at her. The soft contours of her body called to him; her pliant skin, her lush, pearl-pink-tipped breasts, her soft seawater eyes. None of which compared to the rapier-sharp intelligence of her beautiful mind. It was like she was moulded from clay by the gods specifically for him. He was a hopeless wretch in love. And now there was a babe inside her belly.

He felt an overwhelming tenderness toward her, at her resilience and strength in finding her way back to him, and he felt himself marveling at the miracle of life they’d created.

He sat back on his haunches, roving his eyes over her, struck dumb.

And then she reached for him.

“I need you,” she whispered, beseeching him, “I need to take you inside of me. Please.”

The blood thrummed inside of him.

He reached down and delicately parted her legs, taking himself in hand and gently thumbing the soft bud at the crest of her sex. She hissed a breath through her teeth and he guided himself, sliding straight home.

Scully reached under his arms with both hands and wrapped them around his shoulders, pulling him tightly to her. He thrust up into her slowly, tenderly, keeping his weight on his elbows, framing her face with his arms.

He could feel her pulse as it beat in her slick sheath and he took a breath, trying to control himself. He wanted this to be sweet, tender lovemaking -- a homecoming -- but with every stroke, he felt more and more desperate for release.

A sob wrenched from her throat and she turned her face into his neck, pressing her teeth into the skin there.

“Mulder,” she panted, her voice hungry with yearning, with palpable, unabashed need.

He turned and pressed a soft kiss to her lips and then leaned back, grabbing her hips in both hands. He began to snap into her with more force, and her hips rose with each plunge, as desperate to meet him as he was to be buried deep inside of her. And then she threw her arms over her head, her hands pushing against the carved headboard of the bed, her head thrown back, and she keened an almost inhuman sound, her muscles gripping him in an endless, pulsing clutch.  

He ascended to a place beyond thought.

XxX

Mulder awoke once again with the smell of lavender in his nose, the soft curve of Scully’s behind pressed into him. He inhaled deeply and pulled her more tightly to him.

He would stay here all week, all month, all year, if he could. But he needed to send word to Henwick Priory that he and the Countess would be arriving soon, and staying for the duration.

He rose and gently extricated himself from around Scully, dressing as quickly and quietly as he could. He was just pulling on his Hessians when his wife inhaled deeply in the bed and rolled over, cracking an eye to look at him with a small smile on her face.

“What time is it?” she croaked, her voice rough with sleep.

There was an ormolu clock on the mantle of the bedroom, and Mulder peered at it before coming to sit on the bed next to her hip.

“It’s just past nine o’clock. If you wish to go back to sleep, please do so.”

She stretched, brushing a hand down his arm to thread her fingers through his own.

“I shall rise,” she said, “I’d like to write to my mother and visit with Suzanne. Would you mind calling for Prudence?”

Mulder hesitated briefly, but then rose and pulled the cord. It seemed only moments before the door to their chambers opened.

“My lady!” Prudence came rushing into the room, a joyful look of relief on her face.

“Prudence,” said Scully fondly, reaching her hands out to recieve her.

“Oh, my lady ,” Prudence said again, taking Scully’s hands. She seemed to be overwhelmed with emotion.

Mulder stepped forward. He had not spoken with Prudence since calling her in to meet the Bow Street Runners, and charging off the second she gave them the location of Spender’s Kent estate. The young woman eyed him warily before glancing back at her mistress.

“You need not call the Countess that anymore,” he said calmly to her.

Both women swung their eyes to him; Scully in confusion, Prudence in something close to fear.

“And what should she call me?” Scully asked.

“Sister,” Mulder said simply. “For that is what she is to me.”

“My lord?” Prudence queried.

“Come,” Mulder said, pulling the envelope scrawled with a large X out of his pocket. “I’ve something to show you both.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

EPILOGUE

Several Years Later

The spring air was deeply fragrant, the mossy banks of the ornamental lake a dazzling shade of green. The sun was so bright she sneezed.

"Bless you, my lady," said a gentle voice from behind her.

Scully turned to thank Sir Byers from where he sat on a large blanket spread out on the grassy embankment just under an ancient oak on the north lawn of Henwick Priory. Byers was cradling a sleeping babe -- he and Suzanne's second, little Reynard, named for his Godfather.

Scully turned back to where she had been watching -- peering at the arbor twenty yards away for the child's namesake. Mulder had taken three-year-old Clio into the vast gardens to look for butterflies, but they had been gone near to thirty minutes -- it was likely the child had been distracted by something or other in the terraced space -- she had, after all, inherited her mother's scientific curiosity.

Just as she was about to turn away, she saw movement, and Clio came running out from the garden, her skirts flying out behind her. She wore a gleeful smile and her bright red curls glinted in the sun.

"Mama!" she shouted as she approached, "we found a caterpillar!"

Scully swept the girl up in her arms and pressed a kiss into the child's pink cheek.

"Oh, you must tell me the color! We'll identify it."  

"Papa said it was a Cinnabar moth," Clio said, dropping her heavy head sleepily onto Scully's shoulder. The child had a tendency, like her father, to drop off at a moment's notice and it was nearing time for her afternoon lay-down.

"Oh, he did, did he?" Scully said. Mulder was getting better at taxonomy, but he had a habit of misidentifying the things he classified for their children, if only to get a playful rise out of their mother.

Scully looked for said Papa and found him emerging from the gardens, walking slowly with his hands behind his back, patiently trailing William, the future Tenth Earl of Wexford, who had learned to walk only the month before and was toddling along jerkily, like a sailor in his cups. Scully caught eyes with the boy's father and he grinned at her, the smile crinkling the skin at his eyes.

"I see your father found your little brother," Scully said, smoothing out Clio's pinafore. "Where is your Auntie Pru?"

Samantha had offered to take William along on the garden expedition when the boy began crying that his father was walking away.

"She and Monica are cutting flowers for the picnic!" Clio answered, and turned in Scully's arms, wanting down.

William finally toddled up and flopped down on the blanket next to Byers, and Mulder strode up to Scully smelling of grass and sunshine with an underlying trace of clover. He leaned down and captured her lips in a quick kiss.

"My lady," he mumbled into her.

"My lord," she said, then looked down to see William attempting to dive into one of the baskets the footman had set out for their afternoon picnic.

"O-ho!" said Mulder as he swept up William away from the temptation, throwing the child into the air and catching him a moment later. The boy squealed in glee. "Not until everyone has arrived, little one," his father gently chided him.

In what amounted to rather perfect timing, Frohike, Langly, Suzanne and the oldest Byers child Emma at that moment came tromping down the steps on the north side of the estate, just as Samantha and another woman emerged from the garden, each with an armful of pink tulips.

"Oh, what a lovely addition to our picnic!" Scully said to Samantha's bright smile. She kissed her sister-in-law's cheek.

"It looks like Cli is about to drop off," Samantha grinned.

"No I'm not, Auntie Pru," the child said on a large yawn. To the day, both Mulder and Scully sometimes called Samantha by her middle name out of habit and the children had latched onto the idea.

"Do you want me to take her up to the nursery?" Samantha whispered. Scully shook her head. Samantha had been welcomed into the family without reservation, but at times was still not used to her elevated rank and attempted to do various tasks best left to the staff. It drove Mrs. Paxton batty.

"Sit, Samantha," said Monica Reyes, Samantha's hired companion, who was arranging the flowers prettily in an empty basket, "put your feet up. Have a cup of tea."

Initially Monica had been hired as companion, chaperone and etiquette tutor, drilling Samantha in the ways of the ton , but the ladies were now very good friends and, thought Scully wistfully, perhaps something more.

Mulder set his son down once again on the blanket and came up to Scully, putting his arms around her from behind. "That's good advice," he rumbled in her ear. She shivered slightly. He still had the ability to give her gooseflesh with a mere touch.

"Perhaps I will," she sighed happily, leaning into him.

“Ah, the cavalry has arrived!” said Mulder as the group from the house approached.

“Good company, good wine, good welcome, can make good people,” Frohike quoted, letting go of Emma’s hand. She and Clio -- who had found a second wind of energy upon seeing her friend -- darted off to play on the spacious lawn.

“I count myself in nothing else so happy,” Mulder quoted back, “As in a soul remembering my good friends.”

“Shakespeare is all well and good,” said Langly, whinging ever so slightly, “but can we eat?”

“Champagne first!” Mulder announced, nodding to a footman who had been waiting nearby with the refreshment.

Frohike’s eyebrows rose as he took the proffered glass and he peered knowingly at the lord and lady of the house, who still stood in an embrace. “What’s the occasion?”

“We’ve an announcement,” Scully smiled, and Mulder reached down to caress the bump in Scully’s belly that was just beginning to make itself known.

“I knew it!” clapped Suzanne.

“Again?” gaped Langly.

Mulder winked at his bespeckled friend and raised his glass. “To good friends reunited,” he said, “and the blessing of another child.”

The gathered party raised their glasses in a toast.

Frohike looked up, thoughtful. “A third Wexford babe, and I’ve yet to find a wife.”

“My friend,” Mulder said, pressing a loving kiss into Scully’s hair before looking up at him, “never give up on a miracle.”

THE END

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 12 rewatch thoughts

- I would like to thank them for keeping in din’s harried yet triumphant ‘hAH!!’ when he gets the explosives to stick to gideon’s ship in the ‘hey remember when this happened last season’ section, that was a nice gesture from the showrunners to me personally, I assume

- this episode actually helped me find more enjoyment in the last one, because it’s such a nice reassurance that even though they’re pulling in more stuff from other star wars media this show won’t suddenly stop being its own thing and mando won’t suddenly stop being himself and it’s very comforting to me somehow haha

- the small hesitation before din calls out “do you... do you have the wire?” lol lol lol he’s completely aware of the bizarreness of what he’s doing here but hey being alive is already so damn weird etc. 

the softness of his voice the whole way through and the fact that he never, never blames the baby for not being able to do what shouldn’t really be asked of him in the first place, tho... ;____;  

- the tiny exasperated head tilt din does when he realizes the hatch isn’t going to extend all the way fdslkfhasdlashfs  

- din is looking down at the baby the entire time while greef talks to the mechanics ❤️❤️❤️

(the baby seems pretty drawn to/excited to see greef again and mando seems to notice which is extremely cute. he’s becoming really good at tuning in with the kid) 

he also greets cara baby first in much the same way as he does peli, like he knows what the main attraction here is lol, they do a very sweet bro nod at each other. god I wish gina carano wasn’t so terrible imagine if we could just have this BrOTP without hesitations :( 

I think greef is actually a bit worried to begin with after seeing the ship, he sort of takes din in intently before he huffs a little laugh and grabs his arm. it must be a bit stressful to be his friend and not be able to see his expression right away when you worry something might be seriously wrong haha

- people are finally treating the baby like you would a real baby and it’s such a blessing, everyone talking and cooing at him and baby babbling back

(I wonder if greef has children of his own? he does have an undeniable air of experienced grandpa about him in this episode, it’s adorable)  

- din does so much talking -- unprompted, even! -- these days, it truly is an embarrassment of riches 

- capital E Emotional about this shot with IG-11 right behind din and cara inviting him into the school in front of him. some past carried with us into the future shit going on here  

IG-11′s legacy’s still got our back y’all :’) I swear to god if gideon blows up nevarro at some point I’m going to lose it 

the ‘oh yeah?/that so?’ way din leans his head back after she says “wait until you see inside” is also amazing

- baby reaching out his hand like ‘can have?’ is so polite ;______; he takes after his father (including in the ‘fool me twice, I’ll fuck you up’ department haha. listen you get one chance to be cool about it and then no more mr nice mando/baby)

-

go ahead, kid, make a fuss about it. who are you going to tell, huh? who’s going to believe you? you gonna tell them you got bested by a baby? a magic baby? no? that’s right. I took your dignity as easily as I took your macarons, there’s nothing you can do to change it, and now you gotta live with that. sweet dreams.

(this is a joke. the baby is not evil. I hate that I even have to specify this but I’ve seen some stupid shit in the tags in my time you guys haha) 

- I can’t work out what anything on greef’s desk is supposed to be, but if that’s a computer it’s got to be older than even the razor crest lol

- friends: din yes?

mando: din no, only repairs

friends: din yes please?

mando: ... [sigh] din yes 

he truly has next to no defense against people he actually likes asking him for something huh lol. well a self care co-op mission clearly did him a world of good in this one at least it’s all fine

- “I’m starting to dehydrate, Boss” is an excellent line and delivered perfectly, I cackle every time (”You park your gills right there until I say otherwise” is a good runner up too) 

- it’s so nice to see the small moments of communication between them in this one after mando was so out of sync with the team in the last one (and tbf those guys didn’t even try to give him any pointers at all, they really left him to flounder through the whole thing if you watch it carefully haha)

- the mythrol’s jacket still looks so comfy, I want one

- aaaaah the way din says “I don’t like this” is just so... hnnngh it’s perfect, there’s a vulnerability and openness to it for a moment. greef glances over at him like he hasn’t heard him sound like this before too, which just sells it even more

u ok bro?

you know shit’s fucked up when din djarin expresses an emotion without even being forced to by circumstance (I think what I mean is that it’s actually really rare for him to state how he feels about something just to do it, usually his communication is more practically oriented, more along ‘I think this is the best cause of action because of a and b’ lines, or like when he tells omera he’s grateful it’s... more to inform her of it and make sure she knows than to express himself? but he’s starting to do it more with people he trusts now and it gets me in the heart? man I’m finding this hard to articulate let’s move on lol)

- I really, really wonder about pershing’s position in all of this. his plea for the child’s life did sound genuine -- he did try to guard him with his own noodly scientist body when he thought din was out to hurt him, remember -- but is that only because he knows he’s in deep shit himself without the blood the baby can give? is he maybe not quite cool with whatever gideon has him doing? (he does sound quite strained when he talks about the ‘body’ rejecting the transfusion and the ‘volunteer’ potentially suffering the same fate... hm.)

idk why I want there to be something redeemable in him so bad, maybe it’s just my weird yet enduring attachment to ladon radim in stargate atlantis messing with me they’re kind of similar in some ways (yeah don’t ask me I don’t know either sometimes the heart wants what it wants in ways reason can’t explain)

- tfw ur literally launching yourself across a pool of boiling lava because you’re Dad and your baby’s in danger T__________T he just does not stop running towards that kid for even a single second help

- there’s something so innocently pure and... old fashioned? about the scene with mythrol and greef screaming the entire time they drive off the cliff, it feels like something out of a movie from like three decades ago. that whole segment feels a bit like that, it’s just there to be fun and that’s okay sometimes

- every dog fight in every movie should have a baby nonchalantly snacking on a cookie in them, it elevates the experience immeasurably (he squishes his nose a little bit with the macaron when he misses his mouth at one point, which is more than anyone should be expected to bear honestly)

I love that even all fixed up again the razor crest groans and creaks like an old tired thing when din makes it flip to dive, he 100% did take out a bunch of ferraris in his stalwart morris minor of a spaceship and I treasure him     

- there’s so much life and emotion in din’s voice here I can’t!!!! I simply can’t!!!! imagine if we get to hear him openly laugh one day, would I even survive it??!!!!

 also the kid makes such pitch perfect ‘having my lil nose wiped and whining about it’ baby noises when din uses his cape to clean him up (din does turn the autopilot on before he turns around to deal with it, for those who, like me, worry about these things) 

- between carson showing up and the stuff the droid talks about in the lesson they’re doing quite a bit of outer rim vs. core worlds theme building in this one, I wonder if this is going to ramp up more or what

- god but gideon’s theme SLAPS tho 

he’s probably going to try to fuck up everything I love but you can’t fault him on the tunes he’s going to do it to