#who she previously projected her issues onto it seems like she moved to me until i was basically booted from the group through ghosting

[autisticlee]

I hate when people who want to "help" me are only doing it to make themsleves happy or comfortable and not me.

when people are basically like "how dare you not take my advice and do what I told you! dont dismiss me and what I say! I don't care if it doesn't work for you/make you happy/makes things harder for you, it makes me feel good when you do what I say and listen to me!"

i've had friends like this. one more recently from an ex friend group who straight up told me I was dismissing her for not even "trying" to do what she says, despite me saying I tried it previously and it didn't work. she always got upset at me if I had any problems with her advice and it didn't work. telling me i'm lazy and dismissive and giving up and making her feel bad because she's "just trying to help"

if you want to help someone, you have to make then happy, not yourself. meet their needs and work out the roadblocks that get in the way. dont call them dismissive for not taking your advice when YOURE dismissive of their needs and struggles. it's not about you of you're "juat trying to help" and especially of you claim you care about the person.

[roman-writing]

no great revelation (1/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Tyalor

Rating: T

Wordcount: 6,236

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day's work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar. 

Aurthor’s notes: Please don’t expect anything from this story. I’m just doodling in between writing ch11 and ch12 of ‘bring home a haunting.’

read it below or read it here on AO3

“The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.”

— Virginia Woolf, The Waves

—

I.

See, here’s the thing: she didn’t look like a Jedi. In fact she didn’t look much like anything. Any other time, and Jamie would have spared her a brief albeit appreciative glance before moving on. Today however, Jamie did what could only be described as a double take. 

The bar was crowded, and the night was young, and Jamie still had dirt under her fingernails from a day’s hard work beneath the Telosian sun. An Ithorian had just jostled Jamie’s elbow as he pushed by on his way to the bar, ignoring her tired grumble of, “Watch it, hammerhead,” when she’d spilled a bit of the local ale she had been nursing. She was wiping her wrist dry on her drab Corps-issued boilersuit, when she caught sight of her by the bar. 

Or rather. Saw it. A lightsabre. Clear as day. Clipped to this woman’s belt, poorly concealed beneath a cloak clasped together at one shoulder. Jamie nearly spilled her ale again. And that was when she really gave this woman a closer look.

Blonde. Pretty. Maybe a little too pretty. Definitely not Jedi material, however. For starters, her clothes were all wrong. She looked like she’d just stepped off a cruiser from the Core Worlds in those nanosilks. She moved as though too aware of the weapon she bore, her hand drifting to her waist every now and then before gripping her fingers in a fist and trying — and failing — to look nonchalant. And to polish it all off, she kept glancing around as though afraid that every tavern patron was about to grab her by the arm and haul her from the building. 

A nervous tourist, perhaps. Someone unused to travel. Or maybe a mule. Someone unlucky enough to owe a debt to Czerka. 

Jamie’s scant money was on the latter. Which of course begged the question: a mule smuggling what? 

Over the top of the bar, the holo feed flickered with the latest news from across the galaxy. Yet another infringement on the Treaty of Coruscant as Imperial Sith forces seized a planet along the border of the Outer Rim. From her vantage point in the far corner of the tavern, Jamie pretended to watch the feed idly as she sipped at her ale and studied the woman askance. Across the way, the woman was crowded away from the bar and closer towards Jamie’s corner table as thirsty patrons with credits clamoured for a drink, while the bartender — a Kel Dorian with a rusting breather mask that had seen better days — struggled to meet demands. 

Two more people entered the crowded tavern and began shouldering their way towards the bar. Jamie’s hand froze in its journey lifting the glass to her lips. Slowly, she set the drink down and leaned back in her seat, lowering her hand in a nonchalant manner to rest against her thigh. The small mining laser strapped to her leg wasn’t useful for much outside of cutting bits of wire or rope. It would even go through narrow branches in a pinch, if Jamie were too lazy to go trudging off for a proper thermal saw. But it would certainly give somebody a nasty burn if applied with a generous disregard for the health and safety manual. 

Not that starting a fight with two Czerka pillocks was her idea of a relaxing evening after work. Especially not with her history with the Hutt Cartel. The last thing she needed was yet another galaxy-spanning underworld corporation painting a target on her back. 

Pillock One was hassling other patrons, lifting hoods to get a better look at faces and pushing his own ugly mug close enough that said patrons leaned away. Meanwhile, Pillock Two was holding a chip in his outstretched palm, which projected a tiny holo displaying what appeared to be a very large amount of credits as a reward for any who cooperated with their search for a newcomer on the planet. The mini-holo flickered with the Czerka logo and a sign-off from the Official Head Pillock himself: Peter Fucking Quint. 

This day could not get any worse.

Jamie slouched down a few more inches in her seat. Definitely Not A Jedi Mystery Woman near the bar had only just taken notice of their newly arrived friends, and tugged up the hood of her cloak with a panicked expression. Jamie refrained from rolling her eyes, but only just. By the time the Czerka reached the woman, Jamie was well and truly ready for the worst. 

“You there.” Pillock One grabbed a hold of the woman’s shoulder and spun her round. “Not hiding, are you?” 

He reached up to push the hood of her cloak back, but she jerked away. Her expression was firm, but Jamie was close enough to see the tremble of her fingers. “I’m just passing through.”

“Not much of a tourist joint, Telos IV,” Pillock Two said. His voice was muffled behind the bulky helmet he wore, emblazoned with a chipped Czerka logo on one side. 

The woman lifted her chin slightly, pulling her cloak more firmly around herself. “The gardens here are famous across the galaxy.”

“You don’t strike me as the type to get your hands dirty,” Pillock One sneered. 

“Or maybe she does,” Pillock Two said, and he put the chip away, the mini holo vanishing as he did so. The woman shrank away from them, her back pushing against the edge of the bar. 

All right, so the mule theory was out with the bathwater and the last of Jamie's sanity, it would seem.

Don’t get involved, Jamie, she told herself firmly. She grit her teeth and tightened her grip on the mining laser.

The bartender leaned forward and said, “If you don’t mind, you’re scaring the customers.”

“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll hook up your mask to an oxygen tank,” Pillock Two snapped. 

The bartender immediately shuffled back, and the other patrons that had previously been crowding the bar followed suit, creating a vacuum of space around Jamie’s little corner of the tavern. Which, of course, meant that Pillock One looked in her direction, as she was now the only person who hadn’t moved away.

Fuck. 

“She’s with me.”

All three of them froze at the sound of Jamie’s voice. Pillock Two turned to regard her as well, and over his shoulder Jamie could just make out the woman cautiously leaning around him to get a look at who had spoken. 

So much for not getting involved.

“She was getting us some drinks,” Jamie continued. She managed to catch the other woman’s attention and exchanged a significant look.

The woman nodded. “Yeah. I was just - uh -” 

She gestured towards the bartender, who by now was no doubt pressing an emergency transmitter for the authorities located beneath the bar. Jamie would know. She’d had to press it herself once or twice when things got too rowdy around these parts. Not that it happened often. Just often enough. 

Pillock Two pointed to Jamie’s glass. “Looks like you’re still making your way through that one.”

“What can I say?” Jamie gave a shrug and remained seated. “I’m thirsty.” 

Pillock One sauntered over to her table. Jamie glared up at him from her seat, maintaining eye contact even as he reached out and tipped her glass over so that ale foamed and spilled all across the table. 

“Go ahead and drink, then,” he said.

“She’s been on Telos with me for a week already,” Jamie countered, ignoring the slow drip of ale onto her work boots. “Whoever you’re looking for came here — when? On yesterday’s shuttle from Praadost?” 

Pillock One grit his jaw so tight Jamie could see the muscles bunch up there. 

She bared her teeth at him in a smile. “Thought as much. Now, fuck off and let honest people drink in peace. Yeah?” 

For a long tense moment it seemed that would be the start of a very long evening, in which Jamie ended up back in her flat upstairs nursing a bag of ice against her face if she were lucky. Then, Pillock Two thwacked his companion on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

“The bounty’s getting away, while we sit here wasting our time,” he said. “Let’s go.” 

Pillock One stayed where he was, glowering at Jamie until Pillock Two made his way back towards the exit. Only then did he follow suit, but not without taking inventory of her appearance. And of course Jamie had to go and wear her Corps-issued boilersuit to the pub, with the AgriCorps logo stamped all over it. Absolutely phenomenal choice there. 

When they’d finally left, Jamie heaved a great sigh and let her head fall back against the chair for a second. Then she rose to her feet and crossed over to the bar. The woman eyed her warily, then seemed confused when Jamie ignored her utterly in favour of leaning against the bar and speaking to the bartender, “Ho’kyn, you got a towel?”

The bartender gave her a relieved nod in thanks, and immediately poured her two fresh ales. He slid them across the bar along with a stained dish towel. Jamie took them, pushed one into the woman’s hands, took the other for herself, and sank back down into her usual corner table seat with a drawn out groan. She used the towel to mop up the remnants of her previous drink before chucking it back towards the direction of the bar. The woman had to dodge out of the way to avoid being hit square in the face.

“You going to sit or not?” Jamie asked, and she kicked the leg of the other chair as an invitation. 

Nonplussed, the woman just stood there, clutching the full glass of ale between her hands as though it were a lifeline. Then she perched herself at the very edge of the seat, so that she seemed fit to flee at the drop of a hat. 

“Thank you,” she said eventually.

Jamie hummed around a sip of her ale, then lowered her glass. “Might want to hide that a bit better next time.”

“Hide what?”

Jamie gave her a significant look, then let her gaze wander down to the woman’s waist, where the glint of metal was clearly visible through a gap in her cloak. Face flushing, the woman jerked the cloak more tightly around her midriff and sent Jamie a glare that lacked any real edge. Before she could hide the lightsabre, Jamie could clearly see this close the faint glow of kyber through the hilt’s decorative casing, blue as the woman’s eyes. 

Or - well. Blue as one of the woman’s eyes. The other was a strange sort of brown, like the gleam of light through amber. 

Must’ve been some kind of cosmetic augment. Except there were no microfibral lines or data ports to suggest further connections that would make such augmentations useful in any capacity. 

“So,” Jamie said, leaning her elbows on the table and cradling the glass of ale between her palms. “What does Czerka want with a pretty thing like you from the Core Worlds?”

The woman shot her a bemused scowl. “I don’t know. I don’t even know who those people were.”

“Well, you’re awfully convincing. I’ll give you that.”

Jamie’s comment was summarily ignored, and the woman asked, “How do you know I’m from the Core Worlds?”

“You’ve got a Core accent thicker than a Senator’s.”

The woman’s mouth dropped open to protest, then shut again without saying anything. Instead she took a sip of the ale, holding the glass precariously from the top rim. Jamie watched this with some amusement, half expecting the glass to be dropped along the way. By some miracle it wasn’t. 

“Let me rephrase the question,” Jamie said. “Why do you have a bounty on your head?”

Her shoulders bunched up around her ears, and the woman cast a furtive look around to see if anyone had overheard their conversation. The other patrons had, indeed, moved back into their space now that Czerka was out of the building, but nobody was paying attention. That was why Jamie liked this corner. Nice and private. 

When the answer wasn’t forthcoming, Jamie slouched back in her seat. “All right. A guessing game, then. Does it have something to do with that stolen lightsabre on your hip?” 

“I could’ve bought it,” the woman countered.

Jamie gave her a slow grin. “You really couldn’t have.”

“And why not?” 

“Because the people who trade in lightsabres aren’t the kind of people you walk away from.” 

“Are you,” the woman asked warily, “a Jedi?”

Jamie gave a derisive snort. “Not even close. Trained in the temple, sure, but I was a shit padawan. Can’t lift a pebble with the Force. Got tossed out of Tython as a failure early on, and they passed me around various Service Corps branches until I ended up here to work on the Restoration Project.” 

“Oh. Right,” she said in a tone that meant she didn’t actually understand the situation at all. 

Jamie tapped her chest where the AgriCorps symbol sewn onto the corner of her boilersuit. “I’m a glorified gardener.”

The woman gestured towards a nearby window, through which the leafy horizon of Telos IV was darkening in the encroaching dusk. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job,” she said with a weak smile. 

“Oh, sure,” said Jamie dryly. “Only took us three hundred bloody years. And I still find shell fragments from the orbital barrage some days. Fucking Sith.” 

With a shake of her head, Jamie took a sip of her ale. Across the table, the woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

“But you know,” the woman asked after a lapse in the conversation, “how to use one?” 

“What? A lightsabre?” 

The woman nodded.

“Well, I can hold one without chopping my own fingers off, which is more than most people can say. Never got past Shii-Cho before they yanked the practise blade from my hands and told me I was out.” Jamie made a jerking motion with her thumb over her shoulder as if throwing something away. 

“I never knew what happened to people if they never made it to being a full Jedi.”

“Yes, what glorious lives we lead,” Jamie drawled, and she lifted her ale in a mock salute before draining it and setting the glass back on the table. “Listen, I suggest you lie low for a few days. Sneak back aboard a transport, and then move on before Czerka realise you’ve gone. Just -” Jamie offered a wry smile and said, “- head back to the Core.”

The woman was gazing down into her half-drunk glass of ale. “I can’t. The Core Worlds are — I can’t.” 

“It’s either that, or -” 

And Jamie didn’t finish what she was saying. Instead, she pointed towards the holo feed over the bar, where the news was replaying the spread of red across the galactic map, like a virus creeping ever outward from the Sith homeworld of Korriban. The woman glanced up towards the holo feed and flinched as if she’d been struck across the cheek. 

“Cold War won’t last forever. And when it breaks, this is the last place you want to be.”

The woman frowned at Jamie. “And what about you?”

“I don’t get much of a choice,” Jamie said with a bitter chuckle. “The Council of Reassignment sends me where they send me.” 

“That sounds terrible,” the woman replied softly. 

A few more patrons trickled in through the front door on the far end of the long room. Jamie spared them a quick glance before dismissing them. Just the authorities answering Ho’kyn’s call about the Czerka assholes, no doubt. A handful of officers in tired uniforms and tired expressions behind their opaque half-face shields. They approached the bar and exchanged a few words with Ho’kyn, who gestured back the way they’d come.

“It is what it is,” Jamie replied, training her eye after the officers, who had begun talking to a few patrons and scribbling down notes on the pop-up screens from their forearms. “Difficult to make a living as a Force sensitive outside of the Council’s jurisdiction. And they look after me in their own way. It’s not -”

Jamie trailed off and cocked her head to one side. The holo feed over the bar now bore a description of her newfound acquaintance in the scroll text along the bottom of the usual news. There was no picture attached, but it was clear who the authorities were talking about. Jamie read the scroll text in a bored kind of bemusement. 

Until it got to the part about being wanted for murder, that was. 

Jamie’s eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. Sitting up straight, she glanced over at the woman, who had tracked where she was looking and whose face had gone white as a sheet. Another glance over her shoulder towards the group of officers slowly making their way from table to table. They weren’t as efficient as Pillock One and Pillock Two, but they would get here eventually.  

With a surreptitious jerk of her head towards the holo feed, Jamie asked quietly, “That right?” 

Eyes wide and hands shaking around her glass of ale, the woman stared at Jamie. Her voice wobbled when she spoke, coming out broken and erratic, “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to - He just - He attacked me out of nowhere. I swear it wasn’t -”

“Fucking hell,” Jamie muttered under her breath. She dragged a hand down her face and shook her head. Then she sighed. “Who are you?” 

“Dani,” was the immediate answer. 

“Dani,” Jamie repeated in a dull tone. “What the fuck have you gotten me into?” 

Worrying at her lower lip with her teeth, Dani said, “Not to seem ungrateful, or anything, but I don’t exactly remember asking for your help.”

Jamie mulled that over for a second, before conceding with a nod of her head. “Fair,” she said. Then she abruptly rose to her feet. “Right. I’m off, then. Good luck.”

“Hang on -! No, wait -!”

When Jamie did not, in fact, ‘hang on’ but instead turned to leave, she felt Dani grab her by the wrist, and she went stock-still.

It was like an electric shock. The wave of it traveled up her arm and hummed between her teeth loud as a thunderclap. It was like standing atop a great mountain, and the wind tearing at her clothes and hair. It was like waking up six feet beneath the ground, gasping for breath and breathing in dust until she drowned in it. It settled over her like a pall, a mist, a cool kiss at the back of her neck that roved down her spine and coiled in her gut. It was like a set of floodgates being unleashed, like being dragged along the current to some great unknown destination, vast and sweeping as the stars. 

“I’m sorry. Please,” Dani whispered, gazing up at her with wide eyes, her voice like a riptide. “Help me.”

And Jamie gaped down at her. Like an absolute moron. 

Not a Jedi. Not at all. Not a Sith, either. At least, not like any Sith Jamie had seen in the holo feeds. All black robes and black masks and red gold eyes that seemed to pierce the veil between them, as though reaching through space and time to claw back the very essence of whoever dared perceive them. And Jamie might not have been the strongest Force sensitive on the books — not by a long shot — but she was Force sensitive. She knew what the Force felt like, and that was —

“Shit,” Jamie hissed. Taking a moment to compose herself and draw in a deep breath, she grabbed hold of Dani’s hand in return and tugged her upright. “Come with me. Pull your hood back up. Keep quiet. Do what I say. And don’t make me regret this.”

Scrambling to do as she was told, Dani pulled her hood up and trailed in Jamie’s wake. Jamie squeezed them around the back of the bar, bending her knees just slightly so that they were a little less conspicuous. Ho’kyn shot them a puzzled look as they passed. 

“I wasn’t here,” Jamie muttered to him.

The sharply pointed feelers on his face clicked. “Back door’s locked. You know the combination.”

“Cheers, mate.”

It was a quick duck and weave through the cramped kitchens and storage rooms, a race past the walk-in freezer, and then Jamie was punching in the combination code to open the rear door. The two of them spilled out into the back alley. Piles of trash had been stored awaiting disposal in the recycling unit that came every three days. Clouds of steam puffed from the vents in the walls, creating white trails that rose into the night sky. 

Dani squeezed her hand tight. Jamie squeezed it back, but then Dani gave her hand a tug and pointed towards the main street down the way. Flashing lights and parked vehicles. More authorities congregated on the front step of Ho’kyn’s tavern. When the heavy metal rear door to the tavern slammed shut, one of the officers shone a torch down the alleyway towards the noise. 

Acting quickly, Jamie pushed Dani up against a nearby wall by the door.

“What are you -?” Dani gasped.

“Just -” Jamie stepped in close, close enough to block Dani from view, “- trust me. Keep your head down. Pretend like we’re -”

The circle of light hit them. Jamie could feel Dani wince, could feel Dani duck her head and bury her face in Jamie’s shoulder, gripping the fabric of Jamie’s boilersuit along her back as though she were a human shield. They were barely touching, but still Jamie felt the heat of Dani’s skin beneath layers of pastel nanosilk, the sweep of her panicked breaths against Jamie’s collarbone. A few stray strands of blonde hair tickled her nose, and Jamie had to fight the urge to scratch at her face. 

To say nothing of the cold length of a lightsabre pressing against her inner thigh. And not in a good way. In a ‘This Will Burn A Hole Through My Leg If I Move’ way. 

After what felt like a whole planetary cycle, the light moved along, the officer clearly disinterested in a couple groping one another behind a seedy bar. Jamie waited a few rapid heartbeats longer before pulling back. Dani peeled her hands away from Jamie’s back, looking small. In the dark, her mismatched eyes seemed to gleam owlishly. Especially the pale brown one. Almost golden. Like something that belonged to a nocturnal animal. 

“This way,” Jamie murmured.

When she began guiding them further into the shadow of the alley, Dani asked haltingly, “Why -? I mean - where are we -?” 

Jamie reached the expected set of metal grated stairs leading up to the second floor above the bar. “My flat.” 

Dani followed without further question, nervous and silent, all but hugging Jamie’s back when Jamie fumbled the passcode to unlock the door at the top of the stairs. They stumbled inside and Jamie only breathed easier when she’d shut the door behind them, locked them, then hit the control panel to lower the alusteel shutters over the windows. 

The apartment was small and dark and not at all quiet. By now Jamie was used to the noise of the nearby streets and the tavern beneath her feet. Her neighbours weren’t exactly gems, either. Another slap of the control panel, and she turned on a few lights and the news holo feed along the wall screen to generate some more noise so that it would be more difficult for them to be overheard by anyone snooping. 

Jamie turned around to find Dani standing stiffly in the middle of the living room. Which was also a kitchenette. And the entryway. And technically the guest bedroom. There was no wall separating it from the actual main bedroom. Beyond that was a door leading to a bathroom, and another door leading to a very cramped closet, which bore nothing but spare sets of Corps-issued boilersuits in various states of shabby, and a few personal outfits that weren’t much better off. 

“Your place is - uh -” Dani started to say, gesturing weakly around her. 

“Pure shite,” Jamie finished for her. “Thanks. I know.” 

“That’s not what I was going to say.” 

“No? And were you ever going to get around to telling me about the whole murder thing?”

“Yeah, actually, I was waiting until after we’d finished our drinks. I thought it would be a good segue into a friendship,” Dani retorted in a tone so sarcastic that Jamie had to quell an answering smile. 

“All right,” Jamie stepped forward, motioning towards the couch for Dani to take a seat and make herself comfortable. “Why don’t you start from the beginning.” 

Dani did not take the invitation; she remained standing, thumbs tucked into her fists, shoulders tense, jaw tense, gaze downcast. 

“Do you want another drink?” Jamie offered quietly.

Dani shook her head. “No. Thank you.” She flexed her hands and said in a dull voice that lacked its previous fire, “I was recently employed by Lord Wingrave of House Thul. He - uh - he needed a governess to teach his young niece and nephew at his family estate, and my background is in education. So, I thought it was a - it was supposed to be a good opportunity for me.”

“Until it wasn’t,” Jamie said.

Dani nodded. “Yeah.” She sniffled and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand before continuing.  “It turned out he has unsavoury friends and -” she wrinkled her nose, “- debts.”

“What kind of friends?” Jamie asked.

Dani didn’t answer, but her eyes darted just for a moment towards the holo feed, where a fleet of Imperial II-class Star Destroyers were raining down hell on fleeing Republic ships. 

Well, shit. 

“Poor choice of friends,” Jamie muttered under her breath.

Dani hummed a note in agreement. 

“Then what happened? Did you hear something you weren’t supposed to? Find something, maybe?”

Dani’s head jerked up to look at Jamie in surprise and — for some reason — suspicion. “I did,” she said slowly. “I found a - a box.”

Rolling up her sleeves for no other reason than to give her hands something to do, Jamie asked, “What kind of box?”  

“Why does everyone keep going on about that box?” Dani asked, her expression suddenly going steely in a way that did not seem to become her. “What is so important about a glowing little box?”

“It glows? Listen, I’m not - Woah! Hey! Be careful where you point that thing!”

The lightsabre had appeared in Dani’s hand in a movement too fast for the eye to track, as if it had always been there, as if it belonged there. The blade was still sheathed, but gone was the awkward hesitance with which she had worn it before. She levelled the unlit hilt towards Jamie with a tilt of her wrist, and her face was hard yet frightened. 

“Who are you? Why do you want to know about this box?” Dani asked, and her voice was surprisingly even for all the tremble in her clenched fist. “Answer me.” 

Jamie had her hands held before her, as though that would somehow help deflect a fucking lightsabre. She tried to drift sideways to get out of the way, but Dani trained the hilt on her as though it were the muzzle of a blaster rifle. 

“The name’s Jamie, but I’d prefer it if you bought me dinner before pointing any weapons at me,” Jamie said blandly. She immediately regretted the quip, when Dani’s hand tightened around the hilt of the sabre and her thumb drifted over the activation button. 

“Okay! Okay!” Jamie scrambled back a few steps, nearly tripping over the edge of the couch, but Dani followed closely after her. “It just seems to be a bit weird, is all. Glowing boxes and corrupt Lords. Y’know. Unless Wingrave was in the habit of collecting items of luminous quality. I don’t fucking know. I’m just trying to get a picture of what happened, so that I can -” Jamie gave a wave of one hand towards Dani, “- help you. Remember? Remember that part? Me helping you?”

If the furrow in Dani’s brow was any indication, she was not convinced by this argument. 

Jamie motioned to the lightsabre. “Also, you’re holding that the wrong way ‘round.”

With a blink of confusion, Dani glanced down at the lightsabre in her grasp, tilting it to one side for a better look. The moment she did so, Jamie leapt forward, grabbed the hilt of the sabre, and tried to wrench it free. A scuffle broke out, and it was not the most dignified scuffle Jamie had ever taken part in. There was a lot of swearing — admittedly, mostly from herself — and a lot of yanking at the lightsabre hilt in futile desperation like a game of tug of war. Except instead of a rope, they were tugging at a weapon that might accidentally extend a nigh unstoppable plasma blade with one wrong movement. 

Eventually, Jamie managed to hook a foot behind Dani’s ankles, causing her to fall to the ground with a graceless yelp. Unfortunately, Dani did not let go of the sabre as expected, and Jamie was dragged down with her. Jamie grunted in pain when a sharp elbow connected with her ribs. With one final yank, she managed to wrest the lightsabre free.

Dani panted beneath her, flushed and half pinned to the floor between Jamie’s knees. Her hair was splayed loosely across the carpet, and she glowered up at Jamie with equal parts impotent fury and fear. 

“Right,” Jamie said breathlessly, ribs still aching. “Now that that’s all sorted, can you please tell me about this glowing box? And spare no detail.”

In answer, Dani’s jaw took a stubborn set. Sighing, Jamie pushed herself upright, then offered Dani a hand. Dani stared at her for a moment before allowing herself to be hauled to her feet, where she brushed down the back of her nanosilks. 

“When was the last time you cleaned your floor?”

“Can’t remember,” Jamie answered honestly.

Dani wrinkled her nose and began to card fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame it. When Jamie held out the lightsabre, palm up, in a silent offering, Dani went very still. Hesitantly, she reached out to take it, but Jamie pulled her hand back slightly before she could do so.

“Be careful,” Jamie warned. “This thing isn’t a toy. You’re more likely to chop off your own leg by accident than you are to actually injure someone else. And don’t point it at me again! Or we’re going to have words. Got it?”

Jamie waited for her to nod, then held the lightsabre out again. Dani took it, and her shoulders relaxed incrementally once she had it back in her grasp. 

“Now,” Jamie said. “Weird glowy box?”

Dani sighed and ran the same hand through her hair that held the lightsabre. Jamie had to suppress a wince. After everything she’d said about being careful, too. Bloody idiot. 

“I don’t know what it was,” Dani admitted. “I overheard a transmission. Something about putting the box where the children could get it. So, naturally, I investigated. I found it on a shelf in their playroom. I picked it up, and -”

She trailed off with a helpless little gesture.

“And?” Jamie pressed.

“And I don’t know,” said Dani, clearly frustrated. She paused to hook the lightsabre back onto her belt, but it took her a few tries to make it work. She almost dropped the weapon in the process, and Jamie took a step back just in case the bloody thing went unsheathing itself into the floor. “I woke up and I didn’t know where I was, or how much time had passed, or -”

“Which is when you looked down and found a dead man at your feet.”

“What?” Dani frowned at her. “No. That was later.” 

“Right. My bad,” Jamie said dryly. “Describe the box to me.” 

“It was about this big.” Dani held up her hands to indicate an object that could comfortably be held in one hand. “Sharp edges. Some kind of black gold metal, but nothing like I’d ever seen before. It looked hollow, but it was heavy. Like the light inside of it had weight.” 

“Was there writing on it? Marks of any kind?”

“Yeah, but nothing I could read.” 

“Would you recognise them if you saw them again?”

Dani shrugged. “Sure. I guess.” 

“Do you have this box with you now?”

At that, Dani’s shoulders went all tense again and she pursed her lips, her expression growing guarded. 

“Forget I asked,” Jamie said with a dismissive wave. With a sigh, she leaned down and began unlacing her work boots. She chucked them into a corner and then flopped onto the couch, placing her feet up on the cushions. “All right. Last question for the night. Did you know that you’re Force sensitive?”

Dani stared at her as though Jamie had sprouted an extra limb. And then she laughed. It was, in all honesty, a very nice laugh. Nothing at all like the nervous smile from the bar. Her smile now had lines at the corners, and she shook her head. 

“No,” said Dani, still laughing. “No, I’m not.”

Jamie hoisted up an eyebrow but said nothing.

“I’m not,” Dani repeated more firmly this time, her smile fading. “There’s nothing - I’m not special. I’m a governess. I’m from a small town on Alderaan in the middle of nowhere. I teach kids about galactic history and how to share toys.” 

Jamie pointed to herself. “And I’m a Rim Rat, but that didn’t stop the Jedi from hauling me off to the Temple for training until they realised I was a waste of time.” 

“I’m not -!” Dani’s voice had started to climb, and she quickly lowered it to a hush. “I’m not - like that. My family is normal. I’m normal. We don’t have any kind of history or - or anything.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t feel it?”

“Feel what? What are you talking about?”

Sitting up abruptly, Jamie leaned forward on the couch. “When you touched me earlier. In the bar. You grabbed my hand, and I felt — That was it. That was the Force. You were like a - a circuit. Like an exposed wire. You didn’t feel it?” 

Dani was staring at her now and there was no laughter. Only a dim and dawning horror.

“No,” Dani croaked. “I didn’t feel anything.”

Jamie huffed out a short and mordant laugh. Then she said, “Liar.” 

“I’m not -” Dani inhaled sharply and sat down on the edge of the couch furthest from Jamie. She crossed her arms. “I don’t want to talk about this.” 

Jamie shook her head and gave an incredulous chuckle. “Fine,” she said. “Fine. Here’s the plan: I have no idea what’s going on -”

“Great start,” Dani muttered under her breath.

“- but I know some people who might,” Jamie continued. 

Dani’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?” 

“Catch?” 

“I’ve just spent the last two weeks being chased across half the galaxy by criminals and authorities alike. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little skeptical of your sudden eagerness to help. So,” Dani leaned forward and fixed Jamie with a pinning stare, made all the more unsettling by her mismatched eyes. “What’s the catch?” 

“The catch,” Jamie said, lying back against the couch cushions, “is that my friends are a pair of Jedi on Tython. And the Council doesn’t really think of discretionary funds as a necessity, so I don’t have enough money to get us both there.”

Dani’s face went a little pale. “Can’t they -” she swallowed before continuing, “Can’t they meet us somewhere else? Somewhere halfway, maybe?”

Slinging an arm behind her head, Jamie asked, “Why? What’s wrong with Tython? I mean — apart from the obvious of it being one of the most boring rocks in the known galaxy.”

“Nothing,” said Dani, very unconvincingly. “It’s just - That’s a long way to go. And I’m not exactly swimming in credits either.” 

Jamie studied the way Dani tried to hide the wringing of her hands beneath her cloak, the way Dani noticed what she herself was doing and hid her hands behind her back even as she gave Jamie her best imploring look. Which, granted, was very effective. She certainly had some eyes. 

Gentling her tone Jamie said, “Hannah and Owen are good people. Better friends than I probably deserve. The most they could be accused of is spending too much time with their noses buried in the library or in a kitchen recipe.”

“It’s not - I don’t doubt that. It’s just -” Dani breathed in deeply and then continued in a rush, “I don’t think people will like me going to the central planet of the Jedi Order.” 

“Why would they even care?”

“Because,” Dani said slowly, not meeting Jamie’s gaze. She wrung her hands together in her lap, staring down at her own fingers. “The man I killed was a Jedi.” 

Well, then. 

Things just got complicated.

--

“Perhaps you were expecting some surprise, for me to reveal a secret that had eluded you, something that would change your perspective of events, shatter you to your core. There is no great revelation, no great secret. There is only you.”

— Darth Traya, The Sith Lords

[tacoespionage]

One Day More- Lafayette x reader (Chapter 5)

17 followers | Lafayette x reader | 897 words

~☆~ chapter five ~☆~

a/n: I’m pretty sure nobody still cares about this series, but I want to see this through as well as I can before I move on to other stuff, so here’s chapter five! Side note: Angelica gives the best advice tbfh

summary: ok so the first 4 chapters of this fic have been lost forever, so I’ll give a better summary of the plot so far- y/n and laf are partnered on a project on Les Miserables, start to crush on each other, etc. One day, Laf forgets something of his at the park as they study, and y/n brings it back to him. She meets Thomas and he helps her find where he practices. Laf gets spooked by how happy y/n looks with Thomas, passive aggression ensues, and y/n vents to Ang, who is her roommate.

warnings: crying, cursing, the f word

previously: 

He reluctantly made eye contact with you. “Y/n.” Laf’s monotone shook your resolve slightly, but you continued. “You- you left your blanket in the park.” You stumbled over your words slightly and recovered. He glanced disdainfully at the blanket as you held it up for him. “Thank you.” Laf took the blanket, turning away from you without another word. You stood still for what felt like forever. He felt a pang of guilt as he kept his back to you but stayed still. Everything seemed cold to you, but your eyes burned. You turned and walked away as quickly as you could without making a scene. Thomas smirked and set his bag near Laf. He knew nothing was going on between you and him, but Laf obviously didn’t. Oh, this was going to be fun.

~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\☆/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~

You slammed the door to your dorm, dropping your bag by the door. Angelica stood up from the couch as you entered the kitchen. “Y/n? You okay?” You stood at the counter, taking a shaky breath. A brief silence hung in the air before Angelica broke it again. “Oh, honey. Come sit down.” She settled back on the couch and patted the space next to her. The next thing you knew, tears were spilling out of your eyes as you told her what had happened. Angelica rubbed your back gently. “I’m gonna kill Laf,” She said lowly, “Who does he think he is, giving you the cold shoulder all of a sudden? You’re his project partner, for fuck’s sake!” You sighed, your voice breaking, “I don’t know, Ang, I don’t know. I just wish I could go back to when I didn’t have to think about it.” Angelica sat thinking for a moment. “You said that you were walking with another guy?” She began, moving her hand from your back. You nodded and she continued, “What was his name again?” 

“Uh, he said his name was Thomas… why does it matter?” 

“Oh, honey…” 

“What? What’s wrong with me walking with him?” 

“Thomas and Laf… they’ve got history. They knew each other while Thomas was in France, and they had a fight right after Laf transferred. From what I heard, Thomas has some serious jealousy issues, and he didn’t handle the fact that Laf was making new friends very well. He ended up turning a couple of his older friends against him. It was not pretty.”

“Why does Laf care that he was walking with me, though? And why did he have to be so cold about it? How was I supposed to know?”  Fresh tears rolled onto your cheeks as you started to grow hysterical.

“Whoa, whoa,” Angelica tried to calm you down, her voice soft, “I know it’s not your fault, y/n. It’s his. I know Laf; he doesn’t really do well with confrontation. He’ll figure it out. He just needs time to feel sorry for himself and then he’ll get his head out of his own ass.”

“But I liked him, Ang! Now everything’s a mess…”

Angelica hugged you from the side, sighing into your hair. “I know, honey. I know. It’ll be over soon, I promise.” You sniffed into her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her side.

The next morning, you forced your eyes open in bed. As soon as you had rolled out of bed and stood up, a wave of dread washed over you as you realized that you had literature class with Laf today. You didn’t have an excuse not to go; it was half an hour away but you had more than enough time to make it there. You sighed and rubbed the sleep from your eyes as well as you could, then stumbled out of your fuzzy socks and pulled on the nearest clean shirt with a pair of sweatpants and sneakers.

You took a deep breath as you stood in the classroom’s doorway. Laf made eye contact with you from his usual seat as you walked in and immediately looked away. Just as you managed to find a seat at a safe distance from him, Professor Washington’s voice cut above the hum of conversation.

“Alright, please sit next to your partners to work on the end-of-semester project! Begin whenever you’re ready.” Your blood froze as you slowly turned to face Laf again. He avoided your gaze as you trudged to the chair next to him and sat down as quietly as possible. You took a deep breath to ground yourself. You turned to see him staring at the carpet and broke the silence.

“Do… you want to get started?”

Laf didn’t react, his face seemingly carved from stone as he watched the floor.

“Sure.”

After a painful few moments of silence, you swallowed the lump in your throat and spoke up. “How much farther did you get in the book? Since we met, I mean.” Laf’s gaze still burned into the carpet. “Not far.” Breathing deep, you tried again. “Laf?” His eyes rose to meet yours as he responded this time. “What?” Your back straightened and you braced yourself for the conversation you were about to begin. “What- what did I do wrong? Ever since I went to your swim practice you’ve- I dunno- been really- I guess I’m just being stupid, sorry-” You avoided eye contact with him yourself now. The silence between the two of you lasted until the end of class. After a few hours of numbly running errands, tears finally sprang to your eyes as you pulled your dorm keys out.

“Hey, Y/n!” You turned to the right at the sound of a vaguely familiar voice. Your gaze landed on Thomas. His grin slumped as he noticed your shining eyes. A few minutes later and you were sitting on your couch with a mug in your hands. “What happened?” Thomas spoke up from his seat next to you after a short pause. “It’s just Laf, I guess. He’s been really cold lately and I don’t know why.” You sniffed. He fought the urge to smirk and maintained his sympathetic expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Y/n. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not that I… actually-” 

“Yes?”

“Tell me… about you and Laf.”

[yuta-nakamots]

Beautiful Time - h.rj ; Part 3 of 6

Pairing - Vampire!Renjun x Reader

Genre - Fluff with a hint of angst

Warnings - Mentions of blood, description of feeding

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

Word Count - 2.5k

A/N - this chapter is shorter than the rest of them because i was more concerned about moving the plot along but i promise the next few will be a  lot more packed

Following the sudden end to your previously joyful Christmas party, a general agreement is made that Haechan will now live with Renjun and Jaemin for his own safety and that all three of them will not leave their apartment more than necessary to decrease the chances of getting tailed by the hunters. Again, Haechan stays in Jaemin’s room, though this time, a permanent addition, and you stay with Renjun. He had told you the party was going to be a sleepover so you had brought your own clothes, however, you opted to wear one of his shirts instead, taking in his calming scent.

As you settled into his bed while he sat at his desk, anxiously hunched over his computer, you heard the muffled sounds of a shooting game coming from Jaemin and Haechan’s room as your mind wandered to what would happen to you and Renjun now that the hunters were an issue, though you didn’t let it weigh on your mind for too long, wanting to hear an answer from Renjun himself. You called his name softly, receiving a light hum in response from him. “What do you plan on doing about the hunters? Are you planning on just avoiding them?”

Renjun leaned back in his seat, closing his laptop as he formulated an answer, “To be honest, I knew this would happen sooner or later so I already had a plan, it’s just a matter of putting it into action,” he glanced over at you before continuing, “I’m going to send Haechan and Jaemin over to my hometown in China where they can stay in a house that belongs to my family. I have connections there so I know they will be protected” he explained.

You rolled onto your side to face him, noticing the brighter red coloring of his eyes as you asked, “what about you? What about us, Renjun?”

Renjun replied to you while he changed his own clothes and got into bed next to you. “I plan on staying here for the remainder of the school year to make sure you’re safe,” he said, pulling the blanket up to cover both of you even if he didn’t need it, “though once you graduate, I’m not too sure how much longer I’ll be able to stay around given the severity of the hunters’ antics. I suppose I’ll go with you to wherever you choose to go and pursue your future plans if you do want to leave home.”

“I’m willing to go to China after graduation,” you proposed, feeling his arms wrap around your waist and pulling you closer towards him, “there’s bound to be a school I like over there and if it means you and the others will be safe, I’m more than happy to make the move.”

Renjun placed a soft kiss to your lips before speaking, “y/n, are you sure you want to do that? You’d be leaving your entire life behind”, he said, looking into your eyes, searching them for a definitive answer.

“If it’s for you, I’ll do anything as long as you’re by my side” you stated as Renjun began to butterfly kiss his way to your jaw.

He lightly groaned into your neck as one of his hands found yours, intertwining your fingers, “you’re such a good girl, y/n, I can’t believe you’re mine.” You looked down at him, your eyes meeting his.

“Renjun, are you hungry?”

“Not in the conventional way you would be, darling.”

“Feed from me, Renjun,” you practically pleaded, “mark me as yours.”

Renjun pulled back from you suddenly, rolling onto his back and looking up at the ceiling. “Y/n are you sure you want this? Are you sure you want my marks on you where people will know you’re in a relationship with one of us?”

You threw one of your legs over his, pulling him back towards you, allowing you to trace shapes along his chest and stomach. “I wouldn’t move to China with you if I wasn’t willing to let you feed from me” you said, placing your hand on his cheek turning his head to face you for a second, his eyes turning an even brighter shade of red before he gently grabbed your wrist and returned his gaze to the ceiling as he sighed.

After an hour of reassuring Renjun that yes, you were sure you wanted this, he finally gave in to your wishes and fed from you.

He bit into your wrist, not wanting to risk marking your neck as it would be harder to hide. He doesn’t take much, just enough to satisfy himself, in turn making you a little drowsy and feeling like you wanted to fall asleep right then and there, the comfort of his bed enveloping you. You barely even noticed when Renjun had gotten up and left his room, coming back with a glass of water and a small blue packet. “This is a vitamin pack to restore the nutrients you lost” he explained, his words falling on virtually deaf ears as you were on the brink of sleep, though you still force yourself to drink the water and eat the vitamins he gave you before drifting off into slumber.

You woke up to the sound of the boys arguing out in the living room, Jaemin’s whining being hard to miss along with Haechan’s voice filled with annoyance. “Let me get this straight, you’re sending us to a country where we don’t even know the language while you get to stay here with your girlfriend” Jaemin exclaimed while you slowly got out of bed and made your way to the living room.

You heard Renjun sigh, “You’ll be safe in China, and I’m staying back to protect her. She said she’s willing to move with us after she graduates so I won’t be alone here for long.”

Haechan started to speak but Renjun cut him off, “Haechan, you know the plan. I’ll be fine.” Their heads turned to you as you entered the room, sleep still evident on your features.

Haechan looked back at Renjun, blurting out what he was going to say a few seconds earlier, “but she’s still just a human, she’s vulnerable no matter if you’re here or not.”

“Which is why I’m staying back to protect her” Renjun said through gritted teeth.

“She’s gonna have to be turned sooner or later though” Jaemin mused, eyeing you to gauge your reaction as he moved to sit down on the sofa, pulling out his phone.

“Guys, I’m literally right here,” you grumbled, “you could at least ask for my opinion.”

Haechan rolled his eyes and scoffed, “okay then, princess, what would you like to do on this matter?” His voice laced his sarcasm.

You mimicked his haughty expression before responding, “I’m willing to be turned...after graduation though.”

“That still means you’re vulnerable until the end of the school year” Haechan pointed out.

“Which is why I’ll be with her” Renjun seethed out of annoyance, his hands flying towards Haechan’s throat.

Haechan backed up, his arms raised in defense as if this were a normal occurrence, “okay okay, alright. We’ll go but only if you promise that she’ll be turned once she moves to join us.

“Fine.” Renjun huffed, though Jaemin wasn’t satisfied with that, forcing him and Haechan to shake on it, to ensure both parties would uphold their respective end of the bargain.

The second half of the school year goes by quickly, Renjun barely showing up to school, only coming to the class you had together all the while having just a single run-in with another hunter, though he told you he was able to take care of it easily. You had started looking up colleges in China within Jilin, the city Renjun said Haechan and Jaemin were now situated in. You found a few that interested you and applied to all of them, hoping that by some miracle you’d be accepted into at least one. You were so anxious about it that you asked Renjun to pull a few strings to get you into the one you liked most though he swore you could’ve gotten in on your own accord.

Given your good grades and other academic achievements, you were in the range of one of the best students in your class, however, you knew you wouldn’t be able to live out the college life you had dreamt for yourself, as this was only a facade so your parents would let you leave for China. Renjun went over the ‘plan’ with you and explained that once you arrived in China and settled down, you’d have to withdraw your enrollment due to the agreement he made with Haechan, where you would be turned once you moved in with them.

When you announced that you’d be studying abroad in China for your years in undergrad, it came as no shock to your friends and family. It was well known that you  had an interest in different languages and cultures, so they all congratulated you on your decision and bravery to study in a country you’ve never lived in before. But what they didn’t know was that you wouldn’t be coming back, or at least, not in their lifetime.

Graduation came quicker than expected, you having gotten sucked into the storm that was final projects and exams, but nevertheless, you managed to survive. Renjun didn’t come to your graduation ceremony or your grad party for obvious reasons, the biggest one being the fact that he doesn’t show up in any pictures or videos, which you would be taking a lot of on those days. But being one of your classmates, you did manage to find his name among the list in the program being handed out, his name as just another one of your many other classmates who were graduating alongside you, causing you to smile as you thought about taking this next leap of faith with him.

After all the ceremonies and parties had come and gone, you filled your time by often going over to Renjun’s apartment, neither of you worrying about projects and tests anymore, nor did you have to worry about Jaemin and, especially, Haechan, interrupting the two of you. You allowed Renjun to feed from you every so often, definitely more often than before, the act becoming a sort of bonding activity for the both of you. You found that Renjun enjoyed it most when he had you in his lap, your arms around his shoulders as your hands tangled in his hair.

But aside from getting to spend more quality time with him, you were also finally able to call Jaemin and Haechan, not previously being able to due to your schedule. You were overjoyed when you heard Jaemin cooing at you through the screen of Renjun’s laptop, “y/nnnn I miss you so so sooo very much, you miss me too, right?” Jaemin, making kissy faces at you as Haechan dry-heaved from somewhere else in the room along with Renjun gagging next to you.

You didn’t even mind when Haechan called you princess and told you to hurry over because dealing with Jaemin alone was quite a headache. You and Renjun stayed in a call with them for over three hours, only realizing how much time had passed when you let out a yawn, letting Renjun know you were starting to get tired. You both said your goodbyes to the other pair, Renjun flinching in disgust while ending the call as Jaemin rambled on about how he can’t wait to have you, his baby, back with him again.

You and Renjun did your nightly routines in silence, not feeling the need to talk to each other when you had just spent such a long time in conversation with some of the most high energy people either of you have ever met. As you were lying in bed, your body half over Renjun’s the reality of this whole situation finally hitting you that in just a few months your life was about to be drastically different from what it is right now. You’d have cut ties with your family, moved to a country that you barely even knew, and maybe even have become a vampire.

Renjun caught on to your tense state, your moments of overthinking becoming more and more common as the days passed by. “What are you thinking about, love?” He asked, rubbing your back as if to ease the pain you were feeling in your mind and soul. You unloaded your thoughts on him about your worries of the plan not going accordingly but also, more importantly, the anxiety you felt from having to leave behind your family and friends, the people who raised you, the people who stayed by your side through the many struggles you experienced.

You started tearing up as you spoke, your voice getting caught in your throat. Renjun pulled your head in his chest, his hands moving to caress your sides, running up and down them soothingly. “If it helps, think about it as if you are recreating yourself. You can make yourself into an entirely new person” he began, “when I first met Haechan, he said something like that. It had taken me a while to adjust to this new lifestyle because I didn’t like change but yet I didn’t like how it felt as if life was just going on without me while I’m forever stuck in the same state.”

You lifted your head to look up at him, only to have him gently press your head back down into his shoulder, allowing himself to run his hands through your hair, his fingers playing with the longer strands of it. “I feel like this is more of Haechan’s story to tell so I won’t say too much about it, but he had completely remade himself as he transitioned. His birth name is Donghyuck, but he told me not to call him that, to call him Haechan instead. He told me he was finding a way to live as himself while not getting stuck in the past as some of our kind does.” You let yourself relax into Renjun’s hold, enjoying the silkiness of his voice as it almost lulls you to sleep, though your brain suddenly starts up again at what he says next.

“Y/n, how about you take my last name,” he proposed, “not as in marriage per se, but as a way to help you separate your new self from your old self. Huang Y/n sounds quite nice.” You felt your cheeks heating up, causing you to bury yourself further into the shirt he was wearing, causing him to let out a laugh. “What? Do you not like that idea? Is it too soon?”

“Too soon, Renjun, too soon,” you acknowledge, “ask me again in a hundred years and I might say yes.”

“Might? Only ‘might’?” He questions, teasingly pulling your body against his and allowing himself to place playful kisses up your neck and jaw.

Willing your worries to go away, you melted into Renjun’s embrace and found yourself floating off into sleep as his kisses slowed and he started humming a song the two of you had embarrassingly danced to earlier that morning.

A/N - this chapter is shorter than the rest of them because i was more concerned about moving the plot along but i promise the next few will be a  lot more packed

@nct-writers​

[the-magic-lava-lamp]

Ragnarok & Roll

Summary: Thor rolled his eyes. “Of course, I miss you.” He shook his head. “But this is our path. We’re both working really hard right now, chasing our science-y dreams.” He laughed, tongue slightly peeking out of his smile. “And while we’re on the subject...” 

Bruce raised his brow. 

“Maybe listen to the radio station while you’re working.” 

Ships: ThorBruce (mentions of ValJane)

Word Count: 5,010

“Seeing three concerts a week, that’s what got me the gig.” 

Peter Quill smirked in a way that might’ve come across as rude if he wasn’t simultaneously looking blissfully proud of himself. 

Gamora glanced at the back of her boyfriend’s head as she passed by his conversation, headphones slung around her neck. To put his interviewee to wise would mean admitting that Peter only truly got the gig because he was just the best at pestering the project head. She restrained herself from sharing that story because Peter was far to fond of music, in a way she just couldn’t understand, and seemed to be taking this quite seriously.  

“They saw my dedication to good music and made me the main DJ host.” Quill swirled his spinning chair and made a wide gesture to his equipment. “They haven’t regretted the decision since.” His hands cupped the back of his head as he made a care-free shrug. 

The interviewee, Thor Odinson, looked amused as he smiled. “Not even that time you accidentally left while you were still on air?” 

Quill chuckled. “Not so much...regretful. Maybe more...pleasantly surprised that I handled it so well?” He smirked but tilted his gaze in a way that looked incredibly flustered. Thor laughed with him, liking the back-and-forth. “Now, judging by the long hair and all-around...” Quill swirled his finger around his own face. “Hippie look that you’ll be down with our style here. Our ‘Awesome Mix’, if you will.” 

Thor’s eyebrows drew together as another hearty round of laughter escaped him. “I am most pleased with your collective taste.” He gestured towards the two of them. “You and your crew seem to have a lot of fun on air.” 

Thor continued smiling to himself as his eyes drifted around his college’s radio station studio. The room wasn’t particularly small but sort of tight with large posters on the bland walls. The desk was chunky on it’s own but the three large mic stands (which could swing out) didn’t help either. 

Quill looked rather proud at that last sentiment, which Thor took as a good sign. “Yeah we are a fun bunch.” He looked positively joyous and would probably burst if he saw the way Gamora’s sincere smile took over her face. “Why should you be part of our team?” 

                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

—CUT—- 

  ~*REC*~

The fuzziness focuses to the warm setting of the space between Thor’s chin and chest. He shook his head and thumped his hand on the side of the bulky camera. There was a few seconds of frizzling sounds before it seemed to beep awake. “Is it on?” His voice was soft and confused, growing even quieter as his head twirled back. He was attempting to glance at his friend behind him, who’s only part in the current shot was his fast-moving hands. 

“Is the red light flickering?” 

The shot wiggled again as he examined the camera and finally looked through the viewfinder. There was able a slightly foggy vision of their small apartment, he moved slightly and it zoomed right in on Bruce’s focused stare.

There was a small pile of what should be parts for their kitchen table in front of him but looking at the mess (and zooming in further)...it looked like junk. “Yes! We are officially recording.” Came Thor’s undeniably joyful voice. 

Bruce peeked up from what looked to be a wooden leg and smiled, bashfully as he pushed his glasses up the slope of his nose. 

The sun was in it’s sweetest spot, hanging just outside their window. The peace of domestic life came with it and bathed them each in bars of golden light that broke through the new blinds. The shot didn’t do it much justice, picking it up in a sort of light-fuzz. 

Stubbornly but patiently Bruce went back to his directions. He threw open the pamphlet and clicked his tongue. The glossy pages easily flipped and flung from his fingers. He smacked a page down, gliding his finger down the spine and landing it on top of the black and white fuzzy photo of the completed piece of furniture. “I have no idea how to turn this-” Bruce waved the table leg around the pile of pieces “Into this.” He held out the photo to Thor & his trusty camera. “Do you honestly think it’s possible?” 

“I don’t know. Let’s ask the audience.” Thor chuckled and turned the shot onto himself with the happiest smile. 

-“So...Loki now or us in like ten years?” Bruce smirked and Thor burst into happy, hearty laughter. The true and genuine affection he so obviously felt from the mention of 10 years in the future was clear on his face. 

“It was my idea first. Loki just gave me the camera.” He shared a observational glance with the equipment. “I want to log our memories, Banner.” He tore his eyes away to put his full attention on Bruce again. “Loki just wants to have footage of me embarrassing myself for future amusement.” 

The shot spun around the room a few times before landing back on Bruce’s crouched position again. The man smiled in that way which suggested he understood the true intentions behind Loki’s gesture. Which...he did. They both did. 

Thor and Loki’s relationship had grown much stronger over the last few years. After dealing with the rough passage of their younger years and struggles with their father, at some point they’d just decided turning on each-other was stupid. 

For years, Loki felt inferior. Which stemmed from the fact that his codependent need to gain his fathers favor was never resolved. That much was obvious to Bruce and at some point, Loki finally explained that all to Thor, who felt awful for being so ignorant despite his own issues. 

So Loki’s memories of growing up weren’t always warm & fuzzy. That’s why Bruce figured his amusement & support of ‘Home-movies’ being made now wasn’t just for the sake of trickery. Maybe that was just a bonus. 

Bruce’s train of thought was seen in the shot but obviously couldn’t all be interrupted correctly just by viewfinder. “It is a nice idea.” Bruce wiggled his body to get comfortable on the hardwood floor. “Considering, I can put them on in the background when we’re away from each-other.” Bitterness was clear in that tone. 

Thor’s voice hummed from behind the camera. As of late, both college students had become swept up in their course-work and spent long hours apart. Bruce was deep into his back-and-forth with biochemistry studies while Thor was in the midst of his astronomy/astrophysics major. It was a bit of a strain on both of them. 

Most frustrating were the few hours Bruce spent down at the lab to study & experiment. Thor didn’t like the idea of his boyfriend rattling around the place by himself, bothered & stressed. Bruce didn’t exactly love it either but the isolation proved to help his focus. 

The camera shot wiggled once more as Thor placed it on the cushion of the lounge chair next to him. An accidentally well-framed scene, with both men in the shot looking incredibly domestic. Bruce still fumbling with the table pieces while Thor glanced at the instructions for himself. 

“The goal is to have it put together by your Birthday.” Bruce shot Thor a smile smile. 

The red light kept flickering away, forgotten until the battery ran itself out, proved worth the extra long footage. Capturing Thor’s wild yet softly earnest grin as he reached out and grabbed for Bruce’s hand, who instinctively squeezed back.  

—CUT—-

                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“-Now, these are probably the worst hours to host. Like straight up boring.” Quill smiled as if that wasn’t an odd way to advertise the job. Thor decided he liked the weirdo. “But if I offered you the chance to be the regular Co-host DJ for the 1 to 5 am time-slot on Tuesday & Thursdays you’d say?” He waved his hand out with excitement. 

“Yes.” Thor happily tipped his chin and reached out to shake hands on that deal.

Quill looked surprised but at the same time, beaming with appreciation. Gamora was peeking from over her shoulder as she reorganized some of the records that she was sure Peter would forget to do. 

“Good deal, man!” Quill reached out and swung their grasp up-and-down a few times before leaning back in his chair. “Let’s break this interview for lunch and then we’ll let you have a feel for what the job while be like.” 

: : : : : : : :

“I want to introduce you to the little crew which will accompany you during your shifts.” Quill ran around the hallway as if he owned the place which was a sure sign that he was appreciated by his peers. His grin was hearty and his walk was more like a happy bounce. 

With a sharp turn, he was opening the studio door and slurping down the rest of his soda. The creaky thing swung open and a girl with wavy blonde hair stood up straight from where she’d been previously leaning. 

“That’s Carol Danvers.” Quill pointed and flashed a little finger-gun to her. “She’s the other co-host.” 

Carol shot Thor a tiny, corner grin and waved her hand. She was almost exactly how Thor pictured a college radio DJ would look like. The flannel tied at her waist and tightening her ‘Bob Seger’ concert t-shirt were the perfect attire for an unofficial uniform. “Excited for every insomniac in town to know our names?” She popped her knee out slightly and smirked. 

Thor smiled softly and nodded his head. “Very.” 

                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thor! I’m so tired that I might just pass out. This workload is slowly killing me. Good news though, you can save some time and just bury my body under the piles & piles of papers I have to do! ” Bruce started talking, or rambling really, before he even had the apartment door fully open that first Tuesday afternoon. 

Thor frowned softly as he slouched forward. Both of his arms glided across the counter but the right hand was serving as a stand for his phone. Bruce almost thought his boyfriend had given up on the bulky camera to film their home-videos but before he could speak-

“I never knew you to be that dramatic, Bruce.” 

Thor turned the phone around to reveal Loki, in the middle of his makeup routine with a tiny smirk on his face. Bruce registered him and chuckled while he started to put his things all over the small counter (table still in pieces on the floor). 

“Should’ve seen me during my Freshman year of High-School, buddy. To this day, the most use I got out of a purchase was my .99 cent addition of Elton John’s ‘I Think I’m Going to Kill Myself’ to my music library.” Bruce pursed his lips in a joking manner but Thor wasn’t all that fond of thinking of Banner in that way. He reached his free hand under the table and gently pulled Bruce closer, who naturally leaned into it. 

“Good look, by the way-” Bruce tipped his chin towards Loki on screen and cut himself off with a sip of Thor’s water. “Going somewhere special?” 

Bruce and Loki hadn’t gotten off on the best foot, nor the worst foot really, when they were first acquainted. But it had been sort of awkward due to the evolving involvement in each others lives that Thor & Loki were experiencing. 

The brothers were closer than ever these days which Bruce couldn’t be more grateful for. He wasn’t a therapist or anything but he knew just as soon as he & Thor started dating their Senior year of High School; The two of them desperately wanted to bond, even if they had a hard time showing it.  

They had just started to feel more like close siblings when college came into the picture, which sent Thor to New York and Loki to California later. 

Loki flashed an accidental genuine smile. “Thanks.” He mumbled, swiping at his eye. “And no. My roommate is insisting we go out and do something. You remember? I told you about her.” 

Thor nodded. “Yes. You described her as the-...?” He trailed off, looking to Bruce with the cutest thinking face. 

Bruce glanced over from cleaning his glasses. “The weird girl?” He chuckled. “Who you moved in with after a week of knowing her?”

“I thought you said she was closed off? You didn’t know if you got along.” Thor added. 

Loki hummed, tapping a tiny brush against the sink. “Yeah well, I like her now.” He shrugged. “She thought she was a witch when she was a kid and she has Halloween sound effect records from the fifties. And I think she actively listens to them.” Loki pointed his thin brush.

“That’s how I pick my friends.” Bruce chuckled softly. 

“Plus, her brother is also the complete opposite of her.” Loki smirked and picked up his phone to walk carefully through his apartment. “So we have that in common.” He lowered the shot and seemed to loose interest in looking at the screen. “Ok. I’m gonna hang-up soon.” 

Thor chuckled. “Make sure you have your work done before you go out. One time I-”

Loki frowned. “Do you have to try and bond with me while Bruce is listening? It’s embarrassing.” He smirked, obviously uncomfortable. 

Thor just smiled again. “Have fun.” 

“Bye.” Loki put his phone down and hung-up. 

Bruce wrapped his arm around his boyfriend and started rubbing small circles on his back. He set his glasses down on the counter and gently leaned closer to kiss Thor’s warm hair. 

“I love you.” Thor mumbled gently and no matter how many times he’d heard it, Bruce still needed a second to breathe that in. 

“I love you too.” He let his chin rest atop Thor’s head. “Sorry about my long nights at the lab.” He added miserably. “I won’t do it on your Birthday.”

Thor pulled away slightly and eased into their next touch; dragging his hand down Bruce’s arm and grabbing his hand which dangled between their bodies. He met his eye-line and couldn’t hold back an ounce of his adoration of Bruce from bleeding into his stare. “You don’t have to apologize.” 

Bruce didn’t seem entirely too convinced. 

“We’re gonna be in each others lives forever, Banner.” a shrug rolled off his shoulders as if it were just that simple. Life and the great beyond. “I think we can afford sacrificing a few days for the sake of your passion.” Thor raised their grasp and shook it lightly. 

“My mother always said I was a...visionary child, determined too. I had big plans at eight years old.” Thor rolled his lips together. “I have been dreaming of our life together since I met you.” He looked away, sort of bashful. “We’re gonna be just fine.” Another shrug. 

Bruce pursed his lips and might’ve blushed. “That was really cheesy.” He chuckled and admired the way Thor giggled. “But don’t you get lonely...dreaming about that all on your own while I’m up in the lab?” 

Thor rolled his eyes. “Of course, I miss you.” He shook his head. “But this is our path. We’re both working really hard right now, chasing our science-y dreams.” He laughed, tongue slightly peeking out of his smile. 

“And while we’re on the subject...” 

Bruce raised his brow. 

“Maybe listen to the radio station while you’re working.” 

                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{ *Faded notes of Zeppelin’s classic; Immigrant Song, as it ends*}  

:

: {*Steady static*}

:

:

: 

: {*Loud Record Scratch*}

Carol playfully smacked her fist onto the table next to the co-host who’d suddenly faded off. 

Thor picked his head up and finally reached over and lifted the record from the player. “Now, I know what you’re thinking.” He smirked as he lowered the microphone closest to him. “Oh no, who’s this guy and what has he done with Quill?” He chuckled warmly & waved his arms about to nobody. 

The tiny buzzing of the neon sign outside the door (reading ‘RECORDING’) bounced in his ears. 

“I’m sure the five people listening are thinking just that.” Carol fiddled with her mic, the blondes shared a quick smirky grin. “I’m Carol and that’s Thor-” Both DJ’s gestured as if people could see them, Thor even waved into the microphone. “We’ll be the hosts for all you nocturnal friends.” 

“Ask me why I took this junk time-slot, Carol.” Thor bumped his new partner’s elbow. 

“Why did you take this time-slot, Thor?” She happily obliged.

“I’ve been dating my boyfriend for nearly three years now.” Thor spoke with earnest ease that Carol couldn’t help but admire. “He’s incredibly hard-working and dedicated to his studies.” He pulled his mic even closer. 

“But that means he’s off doing his research alone, in a lab into the early hours. I didn’t like for him to be so lonely.” He shook his head, rolling his lips together. “So, because I can’t just stay with him, I thought I could accompany him this way. It just so happened to align with his study days.” 

“We love cute couples!” Carol spun around in her chair. “My girlfriend & I decided to race each-other on the way to the studio.” She slapped her hand over her heart and sighed affectionately. “I cheated and took a short-cut & she still beat me. Now she’s asleep in a spinny chair in the corner even though she bet me five dollars that she wouldn’t be too tired to listen the whole show.” 

Thor glanced at Maria, still asleep with the pair of headphones on. He smiled. 

“I love her so much.” Carol slid her hand off her chest and leaned her elbow on the table. “What song do you want to dedicate to your boyfriend, Thor?” 

Thor paused in thought, hoping that Bruce was listening. He prepared the song to play with an eager yet nervous expression. “This is ‘You Got It’ by Roy Orbison...for Bruce.” 

:

{ *Faded notes of Roy’s intro*}

: : : : : : : :

“I'm glad to give my love to you I know you feel the way I do.

Anything you want, you got it Anything you need, you got it Anything at all, you got it Baby...”

Bruce was alone yet still felt the need to hide his embarrassed grin behind the cupped palm of his hand. 

                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce had patiently waited until the morning to say anything about the show, due to the fact that Thor was asleep when he came home & he was too dead tired to wake him. 

When he woke up to find himself alone in bed, he figured Thor was allowing him to sleep in because he knew it to be his free day. 

And though Bruce was still exhausted, he found the energy to roll out of bed and bound to the small kitchen area where his boyfriend was eating eggs & reading through a textbook. 

Instead of initially speaking, Bruce darted past him and gently pushed Thor’s head as he went past him to grab a plate for himself. He could almost feel the heat of the man’s blush. 

“Did you like the show?” Thor leaned so far back that his chin was pointing to the sky in order to watch Bruce go about his morning routine. 

Another smile was hidden, behind a coffee mug this time, as Bruce sipping at the pre-made cup. He slowly glided over (Thor timing the speed in which he lifted his head accordingly) and started running his hands through Thor’s hair. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” 

Thor took that as victory and hummed happily.

“But seriously...” Bruce paused. “I loved it. I love hearing your dumb voice when I’m about to explode from stress. Always calms me down.” He chuckled. “But you really don’t have to keep yourself up on those nights too.” He frowned but felt all bashful again when Thor shook his head. 

“I love making you happy.” Thor shrugged and Bruce shook his head with a smile. “Can we go to that drive-in root-beer place that I’ve been dying to try for dinner?” 

Bruce pursed his lips and glanced at their ‘table’ on the floor. “The one that’s across the street from the abandoned 7/11?” He asked, remembering the time he’d gotten his last Slurpee there with Valkyrie. She had gotten a roller hot-dog and dipped it into her slushie. And he’d nearly fought that worker for dropping the first dog on the floor and trying to shove it back on the tray before they noticed. That place was probably better off closed...

“Yeah. I want one of those Root-beer Floats.” Thor grinned. 

“You don’t want to save the little trip for your Birthday? What’s your schedule like for today again?” Bruce ran his fingers out of the blonde and took a seat next to Thor on the couch. 

“I have my experimental physics class with Heimdall and Jane at three.” He gestured to his textbook. “But that’s all for today.” 

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

—CUT—-

 ~*REC*~

-”Oh, I got it! Bruce, look!” The camera shook and got a few glamorous shots of Thor’s bumbling legs as Bruce moved to look through the viewfinder.

“Now what?” Came a voice came from the right. The camera whirled around to get a well framed shot of Valkyrie leaning against a stop sign, holding a forgotten chip up to her mouth.

“This is Valkyrie as she was on this fine Saturday, folks.” Thor narrated, zooming in close on her face. Valkyrie scowled and reached over to playfully slap him, the camera shook and the shot fuzzed a little. 

“Hey! That cost us a pretty penny.” Bruce chuckled and Thor smiled, giving the camera the finger to show he was ok. 

“Charming, isn’t she?” Thor zoomed in once again while Valkyrie’s laughter got louder and louder. The camera turned and shook as Thor’s hand came into the shot. The sound of the pebbles crunching becoming the main sound.

The three of them continued walking down the sidewalk and into town to enjoy some of their free-time. 

Valkyrie strolled slightly behind the boys, making the occasional face at the camera. “I thought the idea was to record family videos? Why are you so desperate to zoom in on me-?” She wrinkled her nose playfully as the sound of the zoom buzzed from the camera. 

“You’re apart of our family!” 

Both boys made offended sounds. The camera captured a cute shot of Bruce turning to bump her arm & Valkyrie bumping him back with authentic joy all while Thor was still trying to explain how important she was. 

She skipped forward and leaned her elbow atop Bruce’s shoulder. “Your radio shows have been really entertaining by the way.” She glanced up at the taller man with amusement. “How’s someone get a song dedicated to her?” She teased. 

Thor smirked. “She could try finally asking out Jane & maybe she’ll call in a dedication for her-” The camera lost it’s focus as Valkyrie tried to whack him again.

which inevitability turned into her chasing him down the sidewalk.

“Woo-hoo! Run Thor!” Bruce shouted from behind them. 

As the chase ended officially, Thor whipped the camera around to get a good shot of Valkyrie but ended up tumbling on his ass. He was laughing so hard, he nearly dropped the camera.

Thor stretched his arm out, allowing Valkyrie to swipe the camera. She raised it, turning it to her own face, Bruce way in the background. “Future me, these two seem to think I’m in it for the long run so I hope you’re still being the glue that holds this group together.”

“Don’t flatter yourself! We all know that’s Heimdall!” Thor shouted from where he was laying in the grass. 

She turned the camera to get a shot of Bruce now charging after them. Once he got close enough, she bent her knees slightly and took on the tiny man’s weight as he jumped on her back like he’d done it a million times. 

With Bruce nervously on her back, she gently tossed the camera to Thor. 

—CUT—-

                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{ *Faded notes of rock music*}

: : : : : :

“That was ‘Jukebox Hero’ by Foreigner. Lovingly dedicated to Maria Rambeau, who allowed me to perform that song to her during karaoke night. She’s most likely asleep right now but just know, I’m with you baby.” Carol giggled. 

“If anyone happened to record that moment, please call the number to let me know-” Thor chuckled as Carol thumped her elbow into his side. “Anyway, keep on listening because here comes the start of our AC/DC Rock Block--” Thor prepared the music. “Requested by the great Tony Stark, who never sleeps.” 

As ‘Shoot to Thrill’ faded in, both DJ’s peeled off their headphones and tended to their immediate cravings. Carol went to the tiny coffee machine to brew herself some energy & Thor went to the bathroom. 

When he returned, he plopped back down in his soft chair and took the offered cup of coffee Carol made for him. He was enjoying the slight burn that came down his throat as he drank when three sharp and soft knocks came at the door. 

Thor got up to let the person in & couldn't be happier with the new company. “Banner!” He grabbed his arm and closed the door behind them. 

Bruce slipped in, books to his chest and a soft smile on his face. “Hey. I finished up what I was doing in the lab early so I just came to...see the magic.” He chuckled. “Hi, I’m Bruce.” He politely reached his hand out to shake.

Carol smiled back. “Carol. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

She watched as Thor kneeled down next to the chair Bruce sat in and started up a small-chat. It was endearingly close as the two men where startlingly in sync with their movements. 

Bruce flattened his palm and rested his chin in the small dip of his hand. Thor casually threw an arm around his shoulder and warmed his back as he curled up on the velvety chair. The pile of books poked slightly into his stomach, reminding him that he should probably be sitting up straight. Though he made no move to do so. In fact, he snuggled down further and his eyes followed his boyfriend’s fingers as they played with the top notebook, flipping it open. 

: : : : Bruce ended up falling asleep near the end of the show, glasses slowly slipping down his nose but never falling off. 

                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce Banner set up that lovely camera on the kitchen counter before he entered their bedroom...& hopped directly atop Thor. “Good Morning to you too, Banner!” The blonde rolled over and sat up against the headboard. 

“I made pancakes.” Bruce hopped off the bed and held out his hand (as if Thor needed his help to get up). 

                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~*REC*~

A sleepy looking Thor was the first to enter the shot, following Bruce out into the dark space of their living area. He was rubbing a curled fist into his eye & yawning when the lights suddenly turned on and--

“Surprise!”

The room was suddenly revealed to be filled with their closest friends and Thor nearly jumped clear out of the shot. Bruce looked on with a beaming smile. “Happy Birthday!” He picked up the camera and strolled over to poke his boyfriend’s side. 

The screen fuzzed over as Thor lifted Bruce up with adoration & cleared it’s focus on a closeup of his beard. A few people whistled (Tony Stark’s was perhaps the loudest). 

“Must you do that in public?” 

The sudden (and close) voice of his brother nearly caused Thor to drop Bruce but he’d managed a safe landing. “Brother!” 

Loki shrugged with a smile and Bruce tried to zoom in on the kind expression... 

—CUT—-

                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~*REC*~

"-Loki?….Loki?….Loki?!”

“What?!” Loki whipped his head around to look at Thor who was sheepishly sitting on the couch. Loki was leaning against the wall closest to the radio.

“Can you turn it up?”

He rolled his eyes and turned the radio up. It was clear that Jane had the camera, considering for some reason she was the only one with steady hands.

'Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now’ faded in and was met with mixed emotion. Quill wasted no time spinning Gamora and initiating the dancing. Carol & Maria wasted no time either, singing along every once in a while.  

“Somebody dance with me! It’s an emergency!” Jane hopped up and handed the camera off to Loki. He whipped the camera around to view Valkyrie being poked over & over by Bruce. Jane grinned and reached out a hand, wiggling her fingers, waiting for the girl to go uncharacteristically shy and accept the offer. It didn’t take long. 

The camera was handed off to Heimdall, as Loki had no interest in recording.

—CUT—-

                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~*REC*~

The shot was grainy and fuzzy but clearly Heimdall didn’t care much. He continued to quietly film everyone. They were all in sitting around making conversation, Nat and Clint leaning on each other and occasionally whispering.

Bruce’s head was in Thor's lap as he was waving around and gesturing while he told some childhood story. Bruce’s legs were in Valkyrie’s lap, who was drumming on them while she listened intently on Thor's story.

Loki jumped in every once in a while to add more to Thor’s rambling & occasionally they’d bicker to everyone’s amusement. 

—CUT—-

                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

~*REC*~

The radio was still going but a little softer. That was until the beginning of a song faded after another.

Thor began to happily (and a bit drunkenly) sing along to the Beatles...

 “Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends...”

It didn’t take much longer for all of the guests to be singing their hearts out and dragging each other into shot. They were all passionately singing the lyrics in no time. Falling on top of each other with the biggest smiles on their faces.

Thor spun Bruce under his arm and made a note to play the song on his next show with Carol. 

—CUT—-

                                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~*REC*~

A shot of Thor, and everyone trying to squeeze in behind him on the living room floor. 

the camera fades to black.

—CUT—-

[aclosetfan]

For the Salty asks: 1, 3, 5 and 6?

Thanks so much for playing along! Ima be real with you 2 out of the 4 questions you asked really opened up a can of worms for me, and I’m so sorry. I put the less stressful ones first, and the other two are under the cut! Anyway, these were super fun to answer, but plz don’t hate me for it!! 😂😂

for anyone wondering, here’s the ask list: Salty Asks List 

3. Have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?

lmao yeah. It’s petty, but honestly, people’s personal morals really bleed through into their fandom opinions, and I’m not willing to put up with any unnecessary hate, especially in environments that are supposed to be fun. I’ve even blocked a few people. In the ppg fandom specifically, I’ve blocked a person who, I guess, thought it was necessary to try to gate-keep with racist/sexist/etc. terminology and ideologies, and I truly don’t have time for that 🤷‍♀️ (a lot of people probs know who I’m vaguing, but if you don’t, you’re lucky)

I can’t say I’ve ever unfollowed anyone for any innocent/not-in-conflict-with-my-morals fandom opinions. Usually, if I don’t agree with something, I just keep scrolling because lol whatever. Everyone’s entitled to their own opinion.

but ngl I have unfollowed people who just get annoying 😬😬 lol

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?*

I went into this fandom without having too many preferences, so I didn’t have a pairing that I’ve previously hated!

I guess I could say that while I never really hated them, the color-mixing and color-clashing ships weren’t ever on my radar until I came across the fandom content. Now, I really like them! Particularly, Brick and Bubbles!

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?*

Before anyone gets pissed off at me, before you get into my answer for this question, I’d like to really stress that you’ve got to go into it with absolutely zero fanon context. Like, erase all your headcanons from your mind. I’m dead serious. Because I literally DO NOT get why ANY rrbxppg ship would realistically work ever.

Okay, canonically, these six little funky science experiments were dead set on ending each other. The boys were absolutely horrible to the girls. And the girls literally KILL the boys. I know in fairytale romances, nothing stops love, but bruh, it’s hard to come back from murder 😂 And yeah, I know Clipsville showed the girls and the boys together as older teenagers, and they weren’t trying to kill each other, but that was an obvious gag. In the documentary, it was revealed that that particular “clip” was made because a bunch of people wanted the boys and girls to interact again, and CN gave into the demand. (also, lol I know it super embarrassing, but I did watch the documentary. I just really like Craig McCracken) I just don’t think that realistically a canon pairing between the two sets of triplets would ever be considered a healthy relationship. 

Also, ethically, I just—okay listen, I go back and forth with this allllll the time, but the ppgxrrb ships make me confront the “Would I sleep with my clone?” question way too often. Depending on my self-esteem, the answer changes each time. Like sometimes I’m like fuck yeah I would! Other times I’m like, ew, no, I’d have to consider my clone as a twin! I know counterparts aren’t technically clones, BUT the boys really do come across as identical to the girls in the show. The only difference really is their moral alignment (I’m nixing any gender argument). So, I’m like, omg, can I honestly pair these six together in any way??? Are they too close to each other genetically in some sense for this to be morally right??? Like if you ship Brick and Buttercup together, would that just essentially be shipping Brick and Butch/Blossom and Buttercup together in some messed up way??? Is Brick just Blossom, and Blossom just Brick?? Is it better just to ship color-matching instead of mixing???  

On top of all of that, wouldn’t the boys and girls be pseudo cousins since Mojo was the Professor’s lab monkey? Technically, in canon, Mojo ends up being both sets of triplets “creator,” so could the rrb and the ppg be considered siblings of some sort? Some of you are probably like, wow, calm down. Stop thinking about it. They’re science experiments. It’s not so deep. Which I get, but I can’t stop, so let me hit you with something ten times worse: should the girls (or the boys) actually be considered biological siblings? Does sugar, spice, and everything nice make you genetically related? Nothing put in the stirring pot was organic—just a bunch of chemicals. If you ship the boys and girls together this could be a good thing! BUT, but, could some sick fuck use this information to somehow justify shipping siblings (ppgxppg or rrbxrrb) together??? This is a literal nightmare to think about!!

All in all, I can’t think about these pairings too much without getting caught up in the logistics of their existence even if they’re fictional lmaoooo! If it wasn’t for the fandom, I wouldn’t ship them together at all. I just think it’s amazing that the ships took off like they did lol, because their literal (fictional) existence is just one giant mind fuck for me. Anyway, I ship them at the end of the day, but tbh I do it with a bit of a guilty conscience. Is it morally correct to ship clone-like counterparts? Or should counterparts be treated like twins? Does it even fucking matter at the end of the day, it’s just fiction? I don’t know the right answer. But I do know the pairings don’t make sense. 

Aside from the ppgxrrb, I don’t think there are many other BIG fandom wide pairings. Still, I just want to say that I don’t get why people ship Ace and Buttercup together. The pairing sounds off a few major alarms in my head for obvious reasons. There’s also a bunch of crack ships that involve crossovers with other cartoons. Generally, I don’t mind them, but it seems popular to ship Aku (from Samurai Jack) and Blossom together. And I’m real sorry to those devoted shippers, but again I do NOT get it. I see a lot of romantic fan art depicting romantic situations with Blossom still drawn as a child, and like I get Aku is an immortal demon, so “age is just a number,” but again, BIG ALARMS go off in my head.

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*

🙃 🙃 Kind of don’t want to answer this, but I will anyway because only a few people actually read my blog lolol, so lol, yep! And it’s the reds. Don’t shoot me lol. When I was in middle school, I got into this fandom, forgot about it, and then came back when I was hit by a round of nostalgia. I’m finishing up college now, and I can confidentially say that the fanon content for the reds hasn’t changed one bit. Or the demand for it.

I tended to find that a lot of red content follows many archetypes that I’m just not into. Their stories can get a real cringey, real fast. Blossom is always written like this “perfect, except she’s not (but she really is)” character. Like she’s the girl you WISH you could be, but she’s also going through a shit ton of stuff that no person IRL would be able to handle without having a mental breakdown. And sometimes, in some stories, Blossom does have a mental breakdown, but in a sexy way, so she’s still perfect. Generally, there’s still something problematic about Blossom that makes it easy for a reader to relate to her on some level, unlike the way people write Bubbles. And then there’s Brick, who’s broody, hyper-possessive or jealous, and hot figuratively and literally (gotta love the fire/ice trope). He’s the only boy—no! Wait!—the only person who could ever possibly outwit Blossom, and he is just so undeniably attracted to Blossom. They’re the smart power couple that should honestly just hook-up in Chapter One to save everybody time, but they don’t. Nah, they’ve got to survive at least two love triangles before they even consider admitting they’re attracted to each other.  

And don’t get me wrong, none of that’s bad, but there are a million fanfics that go through the same song and dance with these two. And it’s kind of easy to tell when someone’s hardcore projecting onto Blossom because the type of person they’re personally attracted to is the way they write Brick. And I’m not knocking anyone self-projecting onto characters, sometimes people got to do that to give themselves a fun mental break, but bro, I don’t want to read about it. For one, smart broody assholes aren’t my type. Maybe when I was in middle school, but not anymore. And two, it’s just not interesting to me, which is a real shame since the reds are a majority of the fanon content.

Maybe if I found more red stories where the plot isn’t character-driven but plot-driven, so I see the romance between these two characters in a context where it’s not the main focus of the story, it would solve my issue with the pairing. I haven’t found many fics like that, though.

I can’t really think of any reds fic where I’m like ey, this aint bad unless it has a “major character death” tag attached to it lmao (which are always plot driven stories). However, in all honesty, since I’ve stayed away from red content for a while now, I don’t know the current state of things. Maybe there’s been a load more development for these two, or people have broken away from the same plotlines, but I’m too busy to check. I do browse people’s fic rec lists from time to time, but it sort of feels like everyone just puts the same fics on their lists and moves on.

And before someone’s like, “well, you can say all this about the greens or the blues,” just know I’m fully aware. The greens make me cringe too because there’s a shit ton of possessive and abusive storylines filling their story tags. And what makes me super uncomfortable is how people make Buttercup hit Butch or call him derogatory names, oftentimes unprompted. I don’t know why people make Buttercup such an unlikeable and overly aggressive person. I also don’t get why they make Butch some perverted idiot, but to each their own, I guess? Still, I see these green-character patterns most often in red-focused stories, which is another reason why I avoid them. I’ve found a lot of green-focused content that strays from the abusive tropes I try to avoid. Considerably less than I’d like, but the greens are typically the b-plot pairing, so that’s to be expected. Personally, I’d really like to see more content with the greens finding some kind of inner peace, and recently, I’ve seen a few fics that have tried to tackle this concept.

And lol, if you’ve read some of my posts before, you already know that I think the blues are an underdeveloped fanon pairing. The fandom can’t ruin that pairing for me because it never does anything substantial with it.  

Anyway, at the end of the day, I’m just personally not into the way the reds are popularly written, but I get why people are and that’s good with me. 

[bestillmyslashyheart]

The Red Name

on ao3

Looking back, it was easy to pinpoint the moment it all fell apart. 

It was early and Michael was only half awake, if even that much. He slipped from the bed, careful not to disturb Maria, and escaped into the bathroom for a quick shower. Maybe he could’ve looked in the mirror at any point while he was in there but it was fogged up and he didn’t particularly care that much.

He should’ve cared. It might’ve bought him a little bit of time.

“Michael?” Maria’s voice was soft with sleepiness but there was an undercurrent of wariness to it that made Michael sit up and take notice. He straightened up from where he’d been bent over searching the floor for his clothes and looked over at the bed. Maria was propped up on an elbow, the sheets falling haphazardly down to her waist as she stared at him.

“‘Morning beautiful,” Michael greeted. Maria didn’t answer. “What’s wrong?”

Maria blinked and stared at him incredulously. “What’s wrong?” She pulled the sheet up to her neck as she sat up. “Did you think I wouldn’t be a little concerned about this?”

Michael looked around himself. “Concerned about what? What’s wrong?”

She laughed breathlessly. “You get your ex’s name tattooed on your chest and you’re honestly asking me what’s wrong?”

Michael balked. “What?” He looked down at his chest and sure enough there it was, Alex’s name in a rich red tone, so dark it was nearly black, scrawled across his heart. “What the fuck?” He rubbed at it but it was still there. Frantically he started rubbing at it harder. He knew it wouldn’t make a bit of difference considering he’d just stepped out of the shower but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t supposed to be there, he didn’t even know how it had gotten there in the first place, and it was freaking him out.

Maria stilled his hands. “You didn’t get a tattoo, did you?” She asked softly. Michael shook his head, his eyes wide. They looked at each other then looked down at his chest. “I don’t know why I thought it was a tattoo, you didn’t have it last night.”

“Okay,” Maria sighed, hiking the sheet up under her armpits. “Call Max and Isobel, see if they’ve got names mysteriously on their chests.”

She grabbed some clothes and ducked into the bathroom to get dressed, something she’d never done before. Michael stared at the closed door for a heartbeat before looking back down at Alex’s name. He was still staring at it when Maria came back out.

“I don’t understand,” Michael murmured. 

“We’ll figure it out,” she promised. She dropped the sheet onto the bed and swiped her phone from the bedside table, already calling someone as she left the room. Michael eyed his own phone but stepped into the bathroom instead. The mirror wasn’t fogged up anymore and he could clearly see Alex’s name. The ink was like blood and the script carefully printed. Michael recognized it, it was his own handwriting. He’d never had much occasion to write Alex’s name so when he did he took extra care with it, his handwriting suddenly neater than it’s ever been before or since. Slowly, he lifted a hand and ran his finger over it. It felt like skin. Nothing special about it except that it was there.

“I tried Isobel and Max but neither answered,” Maria said softly from the doorway. Michael dropped his hand and spun like he’d been caught doing something wrong. She looked away. “I called Liz and told her we might have a situation on our hands and she told us to head over to Kyle’s. We can talk about it there.” She left before Michael could say anything.

---

For a doctor, Kyle had a small apartment. It wasn’t much but he didn’t need much so it suited him fine. But when seven people gathered in the living room, it bordered on claustrophobic. 

“Ok, what’s up?” Isobel asked, not even looking up from her phone. She’d already been at work when the group text went out so she was anxious to leave.

Kyle looked to Liz. She was the one who had suggested getting everyone together after talking to Maria this morning. She hadn’t said what it was about but she looked worried. Kyle looked over at where Maria and Michael sat a careful distance apart for the first time in months and his heart sank. He had a feeling this was connected to the file Alex had given him last week and not in a good way.

“Should we wait for Alex?” Liz asked. Kyle shook his head. If he was right about what this was about, Alex had specifically told him he didn’t want to be around for it. Across the room, Maria’s shoulders lost a little bit of their tension and Michael got a weird look on his face. “Uh, okay. Michael?” Liz waved to him. “Want to explain what’s going on?”

Michael shifted. Next to him, Maria refused to meet anyone’s gaze. “Isobel, Max, you wouldn’t happen to have noticed anything strange this morning, did you? While you were getting ready for work maybe?”

Isobel and Max looked at each other then back at Michael and shook their heads. “What is this about, Michael?” Isobel asked.

Michael scratched his head. “Did you look in the mirror before you got dressed?”

“Just spit it out,” Max ordered.

“Have you seen your bare chest this morning, yes or no?” Maria asked.

Both of the twins paused and thought about it before Isobel shrugged and Max shook his head. “I don’t think so?”

“You should, uh, you should do that,” Michael advised. “Let us know if- just- yeah.”

“That is incredibly unhelpful,” Isobel snarked.

“Jesus, just take your shirt off, Evans,” Rosa crowed. “Both of you.”

“I am supposed to be-”

“Faster you take your shirt off faster we’re done here,” Michael cut her off. “And please, use the bathroom or something. I don’t need to see this.”

“You don’t-” Maria stopped. “Just look at the skin over your heart,” she told them. “You can probably just unbutton your shirts if that’s easier.”

Isobel and Max looked at each other. Finally, Max shrugged and started undoing the buttons on his uniform. Next to Kyle, Liz shifted in her seat. Isobel waited a second longer before huffing and dropping her phone onto a chair. She quickly untucked her blouse and undid the top few buttons. By the time her upper chest was revealed, Max had gotten his shirt open and was tugging down the neck of his undershirt.

Kyle knew what was coming, there was really no doubt now that he realized this was in fact exactly what Alex had warned him about, and yet he wasn’t prepared for Max to pull down his shirt and reveal Liz’s name printed on his skin. Everyone froze and stared at the awkward scrawl. The handwriting left something to be desired but it was unmistakably Liz’s name, right there on his chest in red ink. 

So focused were they on Max that they almost missed Isobel’s reveal. She’d been staring at Max’s chest same as the rest of them as her blouse started to gape open and her chest was revealed over the top of her camisole. Maria’s name stood out stark against her pale skin even in its light pink color. 

“What the fuck?” Maria blurted out as Rosa started laughing. Isobel flinched and looked at them before following their gaze to her own chest. She froze and stared down at the name in visible shock.

“What the fuck?” Isobel repeated. Kyle sank back into his chair with a heavy sigh. 

“What’s yours say, Mikey?” Rosa leaned across Maria to tug at Michael’s shirt but Michael evaded her grasp.

“Michael?” Max asked. He hadn’t moved from his earlier position; he still held the undershirt down far enough to reveal Liz’s name.

Michael sighed heavily before whipping off his t-shirt in one smooth motion. Alex’s name was in the same dark red as Liz’s, maybe a little darker. Kyle looked back over at Isobel and noted that Maria’s name was definitely a much lighter shade than the other two. 

For a minute, everyone just looked between the three names before Michael finally pulled his shirt back on and Isobel hurriedly redid her blouse. Max was slower to cover his up but Kyle had to give him credit for resisting looking over at Liz. 

“Right. So. Back to the question of the hour: what the fuck?” Isobel sat down heavily, her phone and her work completely forgotten.

Liz cleared her throat. “Since none of you seemed to realize they were there, I’m guessing they’re not causing you any pain? Do you know when they appeared?”

“They weren’t there last night,” Maria answered. Kyle’s heart went out to her. She was in a tough spot and he was about to make it worse.

“Okay so at some-”

Liz cut herself off when Kyle stood up. He ducked into his bedroom briefly to grab the file Alex had given him and then he just stood awkwardly in front of the group, everyone’s eyes on him.

“So,” he started. “I think I know what this is.”

“How?” Michael asked.

Kyle held up the file and Michael’s gaze darkened. He recognized the Project Shepherd files better than anyone. Kyle knew this was going to be an issue, knew that Michael and Alex had an agreement that Alex be upfront and honest about everything he found, but he didn’t have the energy to care about their issues right now. He had plenty of his own to deal with.

“Well?” Max asked. “What is it?”

Kyle cleared his throat. “These are reports of the prisoners at Caulfield. The studies show that at the time of their capture, about half of the prisoners had a mark tattooed on their chests. Now, the researchers at Caulfield didn’t know what they were since they were in a different language but several years later they started to figure it out. They, um, they interviewed-”

“Tortured,” all three aliens corrected.

Kyle nodded. “Yes. They tortured multiple prisoners until they revealed what the marks meant. This was corroborated later by the appearance of marks on those who did not previously have them.”

“And?” Isobel prompted when he stopped.

“The, uh, the marks, the names, represent the one you-” he cleared his throat- “the one you love most in the world. The, uh, the darker the color the stronger the feeling.” Everyone in the room was frozen. Everyone except for Rosa, that is, whose face was slowly splitting in a wide grin. He barreled on. “The mark is supposed to appear once you reach the age of maturity which apparently is about 30. You guys estimated that you were about 7 when you came out of the pods, right? That was about 22 years ago so it looks like you were only a little off. Not sure if this means you all share a birthday or it’s somehow tied to the time you spent in stasis but…” Kyle trailed off. 

Liz was struggling not to stare at Max. The last almost two years since Rosa’s resurrection and Max’s death had been hard. It took nearly a year and a half to get Max back and in that time Kyle and Liz had started up a new relationship. Liz always said that she wasn’t giving up hope on bringing Max back like he’d brought Rosa but she wasn’t going to put her life on pause for it either. Kyle had known from the second Max took his first breath that their days together were numbered even though Liz had been adamant on not giving up on them. But now…

Next to her, Isobel had a hand pressed to her chest as her cheeks flushed bright red. She was staring at everything and everyone except Maria. “You’re wrong,” she denied.

Kyle shook his head slowly. “You can look at the file,” he held it out. “The names started appearing in English on those young enough to have forgotten their own language. The marks corresponded with some of the names of other prisoners in Caulfield.” Isobel looked at the file like it would burn her if it came near her.

Maria stood up abruptly. “I need to go open the bar.” She fled before anyone could call her on her obvious lie. Michael reached out for her hand but she snatched hers away and he didn’t try to stop her. Kyle watched as she gave Isobel a wide berth.

“This was so worth getting up early today,” Rosa laughed.

---

Liz hugged her knees as everyone filed out of Kyle’s apartment, Max casting her a lingering look over his shoulder as he went.

Once they had the place to themselves again, Kyle sagged against the opposite wall. “Well. I suppose that could’ve gone worse.”

“Kyle,” she said softly.

“It’s okay, Liz,” he told her. When she looked up, his eyes were kind. “When Alex gave me the file I knew it was coming. I just didn’t know when.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She let go of her knees and stood up. “I would’ve liked to know it was coming!”

Kyle shrugged. “Guess I was being selfish. I wanted more time with you.”

“Kyle,” Liz sighed. In a moment she was across the room and in his arms. He’d always given the best hugs. “I don’t know what to do with this.”

“Yeah you do,” Kyle pressed a kiss into her hair. “You love him, Liz. I’ve always known that. And now you know just how much he loves you.”

“That’s not- that doesn’t mean anything,” she protested as she pulled away. “I know he loves me but he still did something monumental without consulting me. I love him and I was heartbroken when he was gone and I’m overjoyed that he’s back but I can’t just forget that he committed suicide to resurrect my sister and didn’t even give me a head’s up.” She shook her head and started pacing. “He should have asked me! Or at the very least talked to me about it so we could decide together. How am I supposed to trust him after that?”

“He brought Rosa back,” he reminded her.

“I know. And I know I’m not supposed to be angry about that but goddamn it, I am. He just- he just decided to play God and leave the rest of us to deal with the consequences!” Liz shook her head. “And now, what? His alien DNA decides to proclaim to the world that I’m it for him and I’m expected to play along? Him having my name on his chest does not mean he gets to dictate my life.” 

Kyle stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. “Liz, you don’t mean that. You love him.”

“I do,” she agreed readily. “And I love you. And I don’t want to lose you, Kyle. This past year has been great. We’ve been great.” Liz reached out and fingered the hem of his shirt. “Please don’t let Max Evans tell us what we get to do and who we get to be with. That’s our choice, not his.”

Kyle smiled sadly and pulled her into a soft, sweet kiss.

---

Maria had made sure the doors were locked when she arrived and she had no intention of opening them anytime soon. She grabbed a bottle of vodka from the bar and found a corner booth to curl up in. 

She threw back shot after shot as her mind whirred. Slowly, carefully, she tried to organize her thoughts. The facts were:

Michael had Alex’s name over his heart.

Which meant that Alex was the person he loved most in the world. 

The darker the color the stronger the feeling and Alex’s name was so dark red it was nearly black.

Isobel Evans had her name over her heart. 

Michael swore, multiple times, that he and Alex were in the past.

Michael swore, multiple times, that he couldn’t love Alex anymore.

Isobel Evans had her name over her heart.

Alex wasn’t there today.

Alex knew what was going to happen.

Alex knew it would be his name?

Isobel Evans had her name over her heart.

Vodka splashed over her hand and onto the table as a sharp banging started up on the front door. It startled her enough to miss the glass. “We’re closed!” She shouted as she used her sleeve to wipe up the spill. 

“It’s me!” Liz’s voice yelled back. “And me!” Added Rosa.

Maria sighed and forced herself to her feet. Slowly, she staggered over to the front door and pushed it open.

“Damn,” Rosa whistled. “You got started without us.”

Maria waved a hand in the air. “My boyfriend is apparently still very much in love with his ex he swore he was over and oh yeah his sister is in love with me. I get to drink.”

Liz wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed tightly as they walked back over to Maria’s booth. “Do you want to talk or just drink?” Maria poured herself another shot in response. “Oh good I was hoping you would say that.” Liz grabbed the bottle and poured a shot directly into her mouth.

Rosa quirked an eyebrow at Liz’s face as it scrunched up. “Want something better?”

Liz’s face slowly relaxed and she let out a breath. “Please?”

Maria snatched the bottle back while Rosa went to get her and Liz something else. Liz reached out to still her hand. “Slow down, maybe? Let us catch up?”

Maria looked from the bottle to her face and nodded slowly. A moment later, Rosa slid in next to Liz and passed out two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. The sisters quickly took one shot each and poured another.

“He has Alex’s name,” Maria whispered as they tossed back their second shot. Both of them stilled.

“Maria-”

“He told me he was over him. We talked about it, so many times, before I agreed to be in a relationship with him and he promised me it was over and done.” Maria shook her head. “That was over a year ago. An entire year where they’ve barely even spoken because Alex can’t stand the sight of us and Michael still loves him that much. How could I be so blind?” She dropped her face into her hands, elbows planted on the table.

“Hey, no,” Rosa reached across the table and grabbed her wrist. “Michael’s the asshole here, okay? He wasn’t honest with you, hell I don’t think he was really honest with himself, if we’re being real. His reaction to Alex’s name was…”

“He couldn’t stop looking at it this morning,” Maria confessed. “He didn’t even notice until I pointed it out but then it was like he couldn’t take his eyes off of it.”

“Maybe Rosa’s right,” Liz said softly. “Maybe he wouldn’t have expected Alex’s name any more than you could have.”

Maria looked at her balefully. “How could he not know that he loves Alex? I can hardly breathe sometimes I love him so much but he just doesn’t notice he loves Alex more than anything else in this world?” She scoffed. “He’s not that good of a liar.”

“Maybe he’s really good at lying to himself?” Rosa tried. Maria just looked at her. “Want to talk about something else?” Maria nodded. “Isobel Evans has your na-”

“So are you getting back with Max?” Maria turned to Liz, cutting Rosa off. Rosa cackled and threw back another shot.

Liz glared at both of them. “Why should I throw away a damn good relationship just because he loves me? News flash, that doesn’t mean I have to be with him.” She poured herself another shot but didn’t drink it. “Why is that the immediate assumption? Kyle thought I was going to break up with him then and there.”

Maria exchanged a glance with Rosa. “Because Max is the love of your life?” Rosa replied slowly. “And everyone knows you were only with Kyle because Max was dead?”

Liz stared at her. “That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?” Maria raised an eyebrow.

“I love Kyle!” She yelled.

“More than Max?” Rosa asked.

“Why does it have to be a competition? Why can’t I love two men?” Liz threw back the shot and slammed it down on the table. “I just- I hate this idea that just because we love each other we have to be together. Love isn’t everything. You need trust and to be comfortable around each other and- and-” She shook her head. “Love isn’t everything.”

“You don’t trust Max?” Maria asked quietly.

Liz closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “He killed himself to resurrect my sister and he couldn’t even give me a fucking courtesy call. I can’t- I can’t trust someone who makes decisions like that for me without telling me, without me being a part of them. And Kyle? Honestly, sometimes I think the safest place in the world is in Kyle’s arms.”

Silence.

Maria and Rosa both started laughing. “Aww,” Rosa cooed. Liz rolled her eyes good naturedly and pushed her sister off when she tried to hug her. “I mean gross because you’re my sister and that’s my brother you’re talking about but-”

“Are you ever going to stop saying that?” Liz glared at her.

Rosa pretended to think about it. “No.”

Maria shook her head at them. Her fingers played with the bottle in front of her but she didn’t move to pour another shot. She’d lost count of how many she’d had but she knew it was past time she stopped.

“How can I be with someone who’s in love with someone else?” Maria stared at the bottle. “I mean, Liz, I get your point, Max’s feelings don’t get to dictate your relationship but what would you do if Kyle woke up one day with someone else’s name written over his heart and every time you looked at it you’d know he loved someone more than you?”

Whatever mirth had existed before, it was gone now. Maria didn’t have to look up to know the smiles were gone from Liz and Rosa’s faces. Just like she didn’t have to look up to know that the sisters were exchanging silent glances. Without a word, Liz slid across the booth to snuggle into Maria’s chest, her arms wrapping around her waist while Rosa came around the table to sit on Maria’s other side. Her arms went around Maria’s shoulders and she pressed Maria’s head under her chin. It was a strange echo of how they dealt with broken hearts in high school, Rosa still always the biggest spoon even if she was technically the youngest now. 

“You’ll figure it out,” Rosa promised her quietly. “It may hurt like hell and it won’t be easy but you’ll figure it out.”

---

“Izzy!” Isobel ignored Max.

“I have to go to work,” she called over her shoulder as she sped towards her car.

“Isobel!” She froze at Michael’s voice. As much as she dearly wished to, she couldn’t bring herself to run away from him, not after publicly declaring her love for his girlfriend, albeit involuntarily.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she promised as she spun on her heel. “Maybe Kyle’s wrong! Maybe it means something else.”

“Kyle got that file from Alex,” Michael answered. “Alex wouldn’t give out that kind of information if he wasn’t 100% sure it was right.”

Isobel jumped on that. “Yeah, about Alex-”

“What about Maria?” He cut her off.

“What about her? If the mark names the person we love most why doesn’t yours say your girlfriend?”

“That’d be a bit awkward, wouldn’t you say? Both of us having the same woman’s name?” Michael glared at her for a second before glancing away. Isobel closed her eyes. 

“Michael-”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I don’t know.”

None of them said anything.

“Maria, Iz? Since when?” Max asked quietly.

Isobel cleared her throat and looked around, anywhere but at her brothers. “I don’t know! I didn’t- I’m not-” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I knew I had...feelings. I didn’t know it was- Michael, I swear I’m not trying to- I don’t even know.” Michael shook his head and walked away. “Michael!”

Michael ignored her, the slam of his truck door echoing around the parking lot. He peeled out with a squeal of his tires a second later.

Isobel stared after him before turning back to her own car. Max laid a hand on the crook of her elbow to stop her. “Isobel…”

“I didn’t choose this, Max,” she told him. “Any more than you chose to still be in love with a woman who chose someone else after you died for her sister.” She ripped her arm out of his grip. “It’s a shitty situation all around. Now I’m going to go to work and ignore literally all of this for as long as inhumanly possible.” 

---

Michael knew it was a bad idea. He knew he was too angry to manage a civil conversation and he knew that they’d had far too many angry conversations to be able to handle another one right now and yet-

It was a 30 minute drive and he spent the entire time trying to talk himself into turning around. He was spectacularly unsuccessful.

“Alex!” He shouted as soon as he parked the truck. He didn’t even bother walking up to the door. “Alex!”

The front door opened slowly and Alex stepped out. His face was a blank mask and his body was stiff with tension. Truthfully, he looked like he was primed and ready to run. “Guerin,” he greeted cautiously, all the same.

“What the fuck is this mark bullshit?!” He stomped up the stairs. “And why didn’t you tell me? I thought we had an understanding. You don’t keep secrets about my family anymore. What happened to that, huh? You’re telling Valenti my business before me?” He was right up in Alex’s face now but Alex didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch.

“I take it the marks appeared, then.” Alex’s voice was calm and cool and it just stoked the fires of his anger. Michael wasn’t even entirely sure he knew what he was angry about but it felt good to rage.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I didn’t want to,” Alex answered simply.

Michael scoffed. “Since when do you get to decide what you share? What else haven’t you told me? What other secrets are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Alex told him, his voice still aggravatingly calm. If he was calmer himself, Michael might have noticed just how thin Alex’s mask was but he wasn’t and he didn’t. 

“Bullshit,” Michael spat. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? You expect me to trust you?”

That got a reaction.

“Fuck you,” Alex shoved his chest slightly and Michael took a step back. “I have never lied to you and I have never withheld anything from you.”

“And what do you call this?”

“Self preservation!” Alex shouted in his face. Michael blinked. 

“What?”

“Go away, Michael. Just- get the fuck out of here.” Alex turned on his heel and disappeared into the house. The door shut and the lock clicked behind him.

Michael unlocked the door without a thought and followed him inside. “What?”

Alex was in the kitchen, hands braced on the kitchen table. “Just leave, Michael. Please.”

“No. Not until you tell me what the hell keeping secrets has to do with your fucked up sense of self preservation.” Michael made it halfway to the kitchen before Alex whirled around, eyes blazing. He took a step back.

“Are you serious? Are you that cruel or just that stupid? Because I know you’re not oblivious.”

“Are you planning to make sense at any point or just insult me?”

Alex barked out a harsh laugh. “I get that you’ve moved on, I do. I’m happy for you. It hurts every time I see you two together but I really am happy for you. But fuck you if you think I was going to bear witness to her name appearing over your heart. I’m not that much of a masochist.”

Michael blinked. “Would you honestly care?”

Alex gaped at him. “You think just because you decided to move on, I could too? I finally accepted I was hopelessly in love with you and that’s not a genie I can put back into the bottle just because you decided you were over me.”

Michael blinked, suddenly feeling very off balance. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand?” Alex sighed heavily. He leaned back against the table, his legs not quite supporting his weight. “I’m in love with you and you’re not in love with me. I’ve accepted it and tried to be happy for you as much as I can be. But I’m not going to stare at her name on your chest and break my own heart all over again. I won’t do it. So yeah, I didn’t tell you about the marks. I gave the information to Kyle and decided that he could fill you all in when they showed up. He clearly has so I made the right decision. Now, please, get out.”

Michael pressed a hand over his mark as he processed Alex’s words. He’d thought he’d heard everything Alex had to say about them when they’d had it out a year ago but clearly he was wrong. 

“Michael, please leave.” Alex’s voice was quiet and weary. “Go home to your girlfriend. I’m sure she’s not happy you took time out of your happy day to come yell at me.”

“I think she’s pretty pissed at me actually.”

“Then you should go make it up to her.”

Michael didn’t move. 

Alex sighed. “What more could you possibly want right now?”

Without really thinking about it, Michael took his shirt off. At the first flash of bare skin, Alex turned away. “Do you really hate me that much? I just said I don’t-”

“Just look,” Michael ordered gently. 

Alex shook his head, his eyes firmly on the floor. “Why are you doing this?”

“Alex,” Michael’s voice cracked a little. “Just fucking look.”

Alex squeezed his eyes shut before taking a deep breath and lifting his head. His eyes were still closed but Michael could make out a few tears spilling onto his cheeks. “I look and then you leave?”

“Yes,” Michael agreed. He had no idea what he was doing.

Alex sighed then slowly cracked his eyes open. Michael knew the second he saw the mark because his eyes opened wide and his mouth fell open. His hand came up and hovered in the space between them. “Wha- I don’t-” Michael didn’t move as Alex slowly closed the gap between them, his fingers reaching for the mark. 

Michael remembered touching it himself earlier that morning and it’s complete banality and didn’t think to stop him. That was a mistake.

At the very first brush of Alex’s fingertips across the mark, his skin exploded in fire. Every nerve was suddenly alight and his whole body tingled. He flinched away from Alex’s touch before his mind registered that it wasn’t pain but pleasure. Even so, once the distance was there Michael couldn’t bridge it again. He turned and fled without another word, just left Alex staring after him as he ran out the door.

[nixmatize]

Making room for someone new (chapter 2)

First || Next

Read on AO3

Second part of my story for @marigami-week! I’m still technically on time (in my time zone), though I’m much closer to the end of the day than planned.

Enjoy! :-)

Kagami woke up warm, and happier than she remembered being in a very long time. Though on a regular day she had no issue immediately rolling out of bed to get dressed, today she just snuggled further into the warmth with a contented hum.

Moments later, her bed shifted beneath her, and Kagami’s eyes snapped open in surprise. She was met with the sight of a sleep-mussed Marinette, hair askew and mouth slightly open as she breathed evenly. Kagami herself was against Marinette’s side, one leg slung across hers and an arm pulling Marinette close enough to be as much under her as beside her.

Though she prided herself on her control over her emotions, since there was no one (conscious) around to judge her, Kagami allowed herself a moment of being completely flustered at the position she found herself in. Was this normal for sleepovers? She presumed not, given that Marinette had set them up two separate beds to sleep in. Kagami must have fallen asleep during the movie and trapped Marinette there with her.

But if that was true, that meant Marinette was stuck there more out of a reluctance to wake her than as a choice. Would Marinette be angry? Given her past actions, it was unlikely that she would yell at or be deliberately cruel to Kagami, but making your host uncomfortable was surely the fastest way to ensure no further invitations. And despite herself, Kagami had really enjoyed the chance to spend more time with Marinette. She would be quite disappointed to never be given the opportunity again.

Kagami shifted a bit to try and create an opening to slip out of the blanket that tied them together, but her shifting seemed only to rouse Marinette slightly. Marinette rolled toward her, flipping their positions and burying her face in Kagami’s neck.

Kagami felt as though her face was on fire. She had always scoffed at such depictions, especially in the context of romance – after all, she had never stooped so low as to become a blushing mess around Adrien, and he was the one she chose to crush on.

But now, every trite expression Kagami had dismissed haunted her. The blood rushed to her face, her heart pounded much more furiously than normal in her chest, and her breath caught in her throat. Having Marinette close was more ruinous to Kagami’s composure than any amount of exposure to her crush – but of course, that was silly. Kagami was crushing on Adrien. These aberrant reactions would dissipate once she fully finished waking up and moved somewhere cooler.

Unable to free herself from Marinette pinning her, Kagami decided that the only way to get out would probably be to swallow her pride and wake Marinette. Though this would make their positions obvious to Marinette and probably cause her to avoid Kagami out of discomfort, it was still preferable to her waking up to a wide-awake Kagami and wondering how long she had been awake, leaving them in this position without any effort to wake her sleeping friend.

Mind set, Kagami reached up to gently jostle her sholder. “Marinette. Wake up.” Marinette just mumbled something sleepily an buried her face further into the crook of Kagami’s neck, which was entirely unhelpful. Kagami tried again, to the same effect.

Giving up on the subtle approach, Kagami shook her hard enough to startle the girl awake. “Ah! I’m up, I’m up!” Marinette flailed in her panic to stand, which only further entangled them in the thick blanket. Kagami’s eyes met wide blue ones, each pausing to take in the other before Marinette’s face began to take on a pretty pink flush. “Sorry Kagami, I guess we must have fallen asleep after the movie!” She began to disengage herself from the blanket burrito, freeing both of them. Illogically, Kagami missed the closeness.

Kagami shook her head in response, “It was my fault, as I was the one to fall asleep first.” Internally, she was just glad that Marinette did not seem too upset; though she knew herself capable of living without friends, something about the idea had become… strongly distasteful since getting the chance to actually interact with others her age.

Marinette just smiled at her. “I think we were both a bit too tired last night. How about I go check downstairs with my parents and see what we’re doing for breakfast? You can get ready up here while I’m gone.”

At a nod from Kagami, Marinette left for the downstairs. Kagami showered quickly, noting the different soaps Marinette kept haphazardly piled at one corner of the tub. Some part of her expected them to be scented “warm vanilla sugar” or something similar, but it seems like Marinette’s scent came entirely from living in and above the bakery as opposed to artificial scents – the bottles ranged from “coffee” to “lavender” to “original fresh,” but nothing that Kagami would instinctually associate with the baker’s daughter.

After getting clean, Kagami stepped out and dried off. There seemed to be some sort of commotion downstairs. If she had to bet, she would place the shrill screeching as Chloé’s, to absolutely no one’s surprise. She dressed back in a clean outfit – a black button-up and jeans that she had packed for herself earlier, simple and yet classic. The entire building shook violently, and her eyes widened: an akuma.

The violent roar of an enraged akuma came from downstairs. Before she could do anything else, another tremor shook the building. Kagami toppled over into a corner of the room, sending a flurry of fabric scraps and random object tumbling across the floor. She bent to try and sweep the scaps at her feet bck into a haphazard pile, so as not to make a mess of Marinette’s space. Just as she lifted a large piece of black felt, her eye caught on what was underneath – a small black box with red engraving that had popped open, spilling two smooth earrings onto the floor. The back of her neck prickled with familiarity, and Kagami felt miles away from herself, watching as if from a distance as her hand reached out to scoop up the dark earrings.

There was a bright flash of light, and before her floated a kwami: its colors were similar to Longg’s, but while Longg was unmistakably modeled after a dragon, this little creature was a…

“Ladybug,” she breathed out in a trance. The little ladybug kwami floated there in shock, clearly unsure of what to do. At that moment, the entire building rattled again, which seemed to break the kwami out of its daze.

“Kagami. You cannot tell anyone that you saw me.”

“I will not, I swear it.”

The bug seemed dubious, but left the topic for now and looked around the room. “Where is Marinette?”

Kagami blinked. This kwami was in Marinette’s room. It came from magical earrings. And once released, its first instinct was to look for Marinette. So many puzzle pieces she didn’t know she had been holding suddenly slotted perfectly into place.

While she would certainly revisit this whole revalation later, now wasn’t the time or place. She locked eyes with the little creature, and said, “Marinette went downstairs a little while ago, perhaps twenty minutes or so, and was there when the akuma happened. Should I take the earrings to her?”

Without responding, the kwami phased down through the floorboards, leaving Kagami alone in the intermittently rattling room by herself, staring down at the jewelry in her hands and reconsidering her whole life. If Marinette was Ladybug, that meant that the first day they really met each other, Marinette had been willing to entrust her with Longg. Even in spite of Marinette’s own previously negative feelings toward her and her friend’s disparaging comments, she had been willing to give Kagami a chance.

Kagami had not realized until now, either, just how selfless Marinette was. She already knew that Marinette donated much (in her own opinion, too much) of her free time for the good of others, mending their clothes, building them projects, and baking them treat. Once her time superheroing was factored into the equation, it was clear Marinette gave so much of herself, that Kagami was surprised there was anything left at all.

They would have to discuss this – Kagami would need to apologize for her discovery, and thank Marinette for the hundred ways she had been wonderful. And after that, Kagami would et Marinette to eat and sleep and take a break once in a while, protecting Marinette from any who would take advantage of such a kind person.

Perhaps Marinette wouldn’t want to be friends with Kagami after today, since she had already screwed up so much and it was only the morning. But Kagami swore to herself that she would do her best to support Marinette, so matter in what capacity she was allowed to do so.

The kwami phased back through the floor. Objectively, Kagami was aware that the little god was the same color as before, but somehow she still got the impression of sickly paleness from the kwami. Before she could say a word, it said, “We don’t have much time. The akuma took Marinette, who I know you know is Ladybug, and we need someone out there to fight it with Chat.”

“Where should I take you to find a new holder?”

It stared at her gravely. “Kagami, we don’t have time for that. I need you to put the earrings on. Your transformation phrase is ‘Tikki, spots on.’ Understand?”

Kagami had officially become unable to process any of what was happening, but somehow she managed to nod and slip the arrings on. She stood to go to Marinette’s full body mirror, the kwami – Tikki, she said – trailing behind anxiously.

Locking eyes with herself, Kagami slipped in to her focused mindspace. Mother had drilled the importance of a calm mind, and had taught her from a young age how to push aside emotion or pain in the pursuit of victory. Summoning steely determination, Kagami said, “Tikki, spots on.”

When the glow of magic faded away, she was left with the tingling feeling of strength and grace and power and magic that she remembered from her transformation with Longg. She was left in a thin but flexable black bottom layer to her suit, with red polka-dotted armor layered on top in a clear facsimile of a ladybug’s coloring.

Kagami looked at her spots in the mirror – Ladybug’s spots, Marinette’s spots, odd and out of place on a clear newcomer such as herself – and cracked a cold smile.

Even if this was her last day of friendship with Marinette, she still cared for her friend deeply… and if that akuma had hurt her in any way, there would be hell to pay.

(((@jessigurl-design​ - hopefully you like the new chapter!)))

[freyaevephotography]

FINDING FASHION

Starting university was probably one of the most daunting decisions I have pursued so far; moving 400 miles away from home and moving into shared accommodation with a bunch of strangers … I don’t think I could have taken a bigger jump if I tried! On starting my course, I always felt as if I didn’t have as much photographic knowledge as everyone else, despite studying the subject at A-level. I spent a lot of my first semester doubting my skill and sitting shyly at the back pretending I had the same expertise in the subject as everyone else. However, I soon realised I didn’t need to doubt myself or pretend! My first semester will forever be the foundation to my creative career due to the invaluable lessons I have acquired.

I very quickly found my passion within photography, starting with a portraiture-based project in my very first semester, ‘The Portrait Element’.  Within this brief we had to use two different models and take 4 varying portraits:

1.    A Formal, Fully Lit Portrait using studio lighting or portable light kit. This portrait will be taken in a controlled situation, either in a studio or in a setting of your choosing, where you are in complete control.

2.    The Faceless Portrait. This is a portrait of your model that does not show the model’s face but gives the viewer a sense of who the model is.

3.    Shallow Depth of Field Portrait. Utilising your technical knowledge of depth of field and relation to aperture, photograph your model so that they are in focus while the background is not.

4.    Deep Depth of Field Portrait. Again, with your understanding of how aperture affects depth of field, this portrait will show your model in focus along with the background.

For this project I straight away undertook a lot of research into fashion photography, looking into photographers such as Umit Savaci and David Benoliel for artist research and inspiration. I discovered these photographers through looking at fashion magazines as my stimulus for this module. I was drawn to these artists due to the bold colours and environments used within their imagery. But the eureka moment for me started when I entered my university’s ‘Studio One’ and created my Faceless Portrait with model Harry Boulter, and my Formal Portrait of Sadiye Kirbas.

I experimented massively with this imagery using the basic lighting skills I had learnt during a workshop in the first semester. Being able to know which flash heads and light boxes to use, in order to create or diffuse shadows has helped me produce a variety of moods dependent on my photographic style. For example, using a flash head to create a silhouette by lighting the backdrop behind my model for the faceless portrait. One thing I have always strived towards when creating my imagery is that no one else is creating something that resembles anything like my own work. I made it my mission to make sure my portraits were out of the ordinary. I grabbed myself a rainbow of coloured gels (inspired by the boldness of Benoliel’s work) and used these to light the background as well as my models face. I was so pleased with the outcomes, as I already felt as if I had learnt so much to be able to produce such striking and bold photographs within my first semester. This is where my love for fashion began.

So, at this point I had learnt about the varying ways of taking a portrait but ‘The Person at Work’ was a brief within my first semester that has been the groundwork of each and every photo I have taken since. ‘The Person at Work’ didn’t necessarily fulfill my interests in photography but it really taught me how to shoot. This sounds ridiculous right? But it really wasn’t; until this brief I didn’t know how to properly construct a photoshoot. Before, I was simply taking photos of a person, but this module made sure that I always took a detailed image, an establishing image, an observed image and a formal portrait. These four images made sure that I had a series of images that told a story or set the scene of each shoot.  

Having established the foundations of my photographic career within my first semester, I moved onto further exploring my interests in fashion photography. However, there are two very strict factors that really came in to play when exploring ideas for my shoots:

1.    My really obsessive need to be different to everyone else

2.    Each photograph I take has to have a meaning behind it (otherwise it just doesn’t seem to make sense)

I took inspiration from a fashion campaign shoot, that I had completed for my a-level photography degree. This shoot was a fashion shoot designed as a campaign against the Brexit movement, using clothes created by a graduate fashion designer at NUA. I loved this shoot and everything that it stood for. The designer used her collection to voice her opinion on that moment in time of political unease; “My collection was my voice”. It was bold and nothing like anyone had seen before. This is when I decided that I wanted my photography to stand out by raising awareness of topical issues using fashion as a medium. So I decided to create a fashion campaign used to raise awareness of the issue of plastic pollution. How do you do that you might ask? Well, I took the key element from the issue, plastic, and what it was polluting. The Ocean. Having designed and planned the shoot, I ended up photographing my model on a Norfolk beach surrounded by a blanket of plastic bags that I had sewn together. Reflecting back on it, it definitely wasn’t photographically perfect, but it sparked so many ideas for more campaigns I could create in the future. All this experimentation and learning from my first semester led me to create one of my favourite shoots from my three years at university, ‘Has fashion set the trend for fossil fuels?’. I came up with this shoot as I was flicking through ‘Elle’ magazine and found a series they had published with supermodel Kendal Jenner. She was wearing a ‘to die for’ hot pink two piece, whilst draped over the most elegant classic car. For a second, I got sucked into thinking wow, I want that lifestyle but then it got me thinking, that what we actually have is yet again a very traditional supermodel (not representative of the majority of society) draped over a car which is in reality a personalised pollution factory? Why has Elle created a shoot that on so many levels does not represent the world we live in? My shoot was therefore a rebellion against the use of fashion to promote something so deadly to our environment. My shoot gained so much positive feedback from my peers and even won the ‘Essence of Cornwall’ Press Award. I felt so motivated and inspired having created imagery that had such strong connotations and resonance with people. It felt like my work had a purpose and I was using my skill and creativity to produce something that was more than just an image, but a message and something that could contribute to the greater good.

At this point I felt very comfortable with my personal concepts of how I wanted to use fashion photography, but I still feel as if I am on the journey towards finding my niche photographic style. However, it is still early days and I feel as if I have learnt so many techniques that I am able to keep experimenting with them and not necessarily tie myself to a style yet.

I diverted my attention away from using studios to produce my work … I don’t know whether this was due to the lack of availability of studios or due to my passion in fashion photography changing after my second year? The second year of study was a very tough one for me and one where I fell out of love with my course and the whole university experience. The work I was creating and the environment I was living in made the whole university experience a very negative place for me to exist. This experience began to really impact my mental health causing my creative skill and motivation to deteriorate massively. I just didn’t want to do it anymore. It saddens me to know that ‘Has fashion set the trend for fossil fuels?’ was the only series of images that fuelled my visual passions throughout this whole year of study. Nevertheless, this series is one that I am extremely proud of. I only wish at the time, that my mental state was such that I could keep up the momentum of producing such imagery. Instead, I began to turn to the written side of Press and Editorial Photography to try and stimulate and maintain my motivation for the course. I immersed myself in the themes of the fashion industry, specifically fast fashion, which proved to be extremely compelling, to my surprise. This was such a negative period of time for me, but if I reflect on the positive, without this decline I wouldn’t have absorbed myself in reading all the information surrounding fashion and trends. This was a huge factor that led me to discover my love for the social media side of fashion, and creating content for influencing figures and brands.

After getting back on my feet in my third year, I very quickly started using natural environments for my fashion shoots due to accessibility. One particular workshop has always stuck with me when shooting outside and that was attending a 1:1 workshop where I learnt to light my models in different environments with fashion photographer Rosie Blake. But what I really loved about this workshop was that Rosie helped us experiment with the lighting kit so that we could explore with finding a potential niche in the future. We used the B2 Profoto lighting kit to create false lighting scenarios (making a cloudy day appear to be a warm and sunny one) and to play with coloured gels just as I have previously in a safer studio setting. She gave me so much confidence in being able to shoot everywhere and anywhere!

My photography style has changed a lot now I reach the end of my third year and I believe it’s more professional due to the work I am producing and who it’s being produced for. Could this be due to the fact that the source of demand for the work I am producing has changed? One of my biggest influences for this is Influencer photographer Rebecca Spencer. Rebecca Spencer is a freelance photographer who is hired by fashion brands to photograph influencers to promote their products. I would spend hours gawping at her Instagram page and watching her youtube videos thinking wow, that’s what I want to be doing and how on earth does she do that? The most invaluable tip I took away from watching her youtube videos was how she uses a 24mm lens to photograph her models … I mean technically speaking that’s not the lens you’d use for a portrait. I feel like from the moment I started studying photography I was trained to always pick up a 35mm, 50mm or 85mm lens when it came to portraiture. I remember thinking really? A 24mm lens? So, I tried it and I have loved the work I have been producing after experimenting with Rebecca Spencer’s shooting style. I feel extremely comfortable with where I am in my photographic career, travelling around the UK to photograph for influencers and brands and although I am still trying to develop my own photographic niche, I wouldn’t be able to experiment in doing so, without all the workshops and knowledge I have absorbed throughout my degree.

[thedistantstorm]

Phoenix Protocol 19

Zavala x Awoken Female Warlock | Mid/Post Forsaken | Slowburn | Gratuitous Descriptions of Light | Self-Confidence/Self-Worth Issues | Redemption

When the Traveler’s Light was returned to the Guardians after the defeat of the Cabal, it did not manifest itself the same in everyone. Miyu, an Awoken Warlock, finds herself struggling with her abilities, her Light feeling different and not her own. With her Vanguard preoccupied with grief and all eyes turned to the Reef, she finds herself turning to an unlikely source in an attempt to rediscover her connection to the Light and define what it means for her as a Dawnblade.

Previously

-/

The scent of incense is pungent and heady in the air. She blinks at the coils of smoke as they rise up, up, into the late evening air.

She knows this place.

Beside her, the Speaker’s voice is warm and rough. She has not heard it in ages. “What makes a Guardian?” He queries. He is not looking at her, nor does his Ghost hang over his shoulder. In his hands is a shell of red and white that he must have been working on. His work was always so intricate and beautiful. He turns to set it aside, in a niche between between ancient tomes in his work space.

There are warm sandstone walls, ivy curling down through massive bookshelves. A gentle breeze makes the chimes ding softly, and the lanterns overhead sway. She looks at him, studying the cracked mask that covers his face.

Odd…

He is watching her intently, waiting for her reply. Finally, she parrots what he's preached. “Devotion. Bravery. Sacrifice. Death.”

“Ah,” He replies. “An appropriate answer for sure, but is it the best one?”

She tips her head. “Those are your teachings.”

He chuckles. “Both mine and not mine.” He folds his hands behind his back. “Answer me this: What makes you a Guardian?”

Miyu thinks on it. Finally, she says, “The desire to protect those who cannot protect themselves. To stand with the Traveler and humanity against all those who would wish us harm.”

This time, he turns toward her. She feels something, like a teardrop on her cheek, but when she goes to brush it away, she feels nothing there. No trace of moisture. She inspects her fingertips to be sure.

The Speaker hums. “He has always had such unshakable faith,” He says cryptically, reaching over to close his gloved fingers over her bare ones. Her fingers twitch subconsciously beneath the smooth material as if there’s something in her palm. “I put so much onto them, that I find myself wondering how much more they can take.”

She watches him carefully, as if the damaged mask will give some hint of his meaning away. “Speaker?”

The Speaker moves past her, out to an area of the Tower with a more open view of the sky. She follows. “Ikora and Zavala are great leaders,” He imparts sagely, “But they are people as well. They have suffered a great loss. As have you. As have I. They must make peace with each other.”

“They have not tried very hard,” She admits softly.

“They are not ready yet, but, that is alright. They deserve to grieve as well. They will get there.” He looks down at the City below. “We all have things in our past we wish we did not. Regrets. Failure. Suffering. Loss. In our darkest moments, we pay homage to those feelings by rising above them. By letting them temper our Light and continuing forward. By showing that we can never truly be broken. Maybe in body, but never in spirit.”

Bright eyes look up at the Traveler, complete. Silent. They stand that way for some time. “You aren’t the Speaker, are you?”

He laughs, a raspy, paper-like sound. “I am, and I am not.”

She nods, not surprised. Accepting, perhaps. She reflects a moment more. He gives her space, allows her time. “I have to find my own way. Not Zavala’s, not Ikora’s. Mine. I know I am more than this,” She finishes quietly, looking at her hands. Some part of her is expecting them to be burned. They are pale and devoid of trembling. Whole.

“The journey will be harrowing. You will hurt those who care for you, very much.”

She looks down; Feels what he is saying in her soul. “I know.”

Though his face is covered, she can hear the smile in his tone: almost doting and yet never overtly so. “It does not sound as though you plan to shy away.”

“I don’t.”

“Good.” He puts a hand on her shoulder, and it feels warm. Soothing. More. “The Light will guide you, when you are ready. You mustn’t be afraid. Even in the darkest of places, the Light will find its way.”

They look up at the sky together once more. The Traveler is framed perfectly by the walls of the Speaker’s observatory, perfect and whole and beautiful to behold. Something about that makes her frown, but the thought is fleeting.

Moments or maybe hours pass. There is a warm breeze, and it feels like someone is touching her face with a gentleness that she cannot possibly fathom. It feels peaceful.

“While this has been a nice reprieve,” He murmurs, in that tone that suggests she’s dallied too long when he’s working on a project and cannot afford to be disturbed, “Certainly you must be needed elsewhere. I suspect those who care for you are very much concerned.” He turns toward her once more, the edges of her vision fading to white. “Even those you might not expect.”

It’s not unpleasant, but there is a tug in her middle like she’s fading away. “Will - will I see you again?” She breathes, feeling much like she’s falling asleep and trying to stave off the feeling.

“Likely not. For the best, really. It had been so long since I had heard the Traveler speak. You Guardians are all its voices now.” She smiles sadly, through the feeling of drifting off. “I trust you will do us proud, Guardian.”

There is so much she wishes to say, but not nearly enough time. “Thank you,” She settles on, the words thick in her mouth. Her eyes droop all the same.

His warm, familiar laugh is the last sound she hears before everything goes white.

-/

“Enough,” She hears someone say. Her eyes are heavy. She feels like she hasn’t slept in centuries; Wants nothing more than to curl up tight and let the sounds all around her fade. She feels tingly and numb all over. “... like she’s waking up now.”

Is that Ikora?

“Her hands-” Shaxx, too?

Ghost cries in something half concerned, half victorious, “They’re healing!”

She’s held tighter, can feel where her cheek is pressed against cool metal. Her brows scrunch, and she makes a sound that is more akin to a groan than something coherent.

“Open your eyes, Miyu,” He says, voice a quiet rumble, breath on the shell of her ear. She would know that voice anywhere. “Come on.” Then, as she’s trying to do as she’s told, she hears the softest, unsteady plea. “Please.”

“Mmm.” Her eyelids flutter. Tears track down her cheeks, but she does not remember crying.

A cool hand touches her brow. The palm of it is practically the size of her head, so she knows the person touching her is Shaxx. “Slowly, Mimi.”

A softer, younger-sounding, metallic voice coos, “Don’t push it. That had to be rough.”

Lunar eyes open, their glow reflecting off the battered breast plate of Zavala’s armor. Her lashes beat once, twice against her cheek as her eyes focus, and then she’s drowning in cool, vivid blue. He’s watching her carefully, she notices, though focusing is a difficult task in of itself.

His eyes are limned in red.

“Do you remember what happened?” Zavala murmurs to her. Relief and worry war in his features, and she wants to touch his face but she can’t seem to feel her hands.

She dips her head, eyes downcast. It takes her a moment of racking her memory to reply. “Yes,” She eventually replies. In her periphery, Ikora tenses and everything blurs. “How-” Her voice sounds feeble to her own ears. She clears her throat, but has to close her eyes to speak without feeling like everything is spinning. “How long was I out?”

Ikora’s voice is subdued, stormy. Far away. “It-” Her voice cracks. “It has been... hours, since I-” The choked off resentment in her tone is not directed at Miyu. It’s turned inward, toward herself. “We were only able to bring you back an hour ago. You will need time to recover. After you’re feeling better, I would like to see you,” She pauses, sounding unsure. “If that is alright.”

Zavala cups her face, thumb brushing across her cheekbone, but his eyes dart up to look at his fellow Vanguard. His features change then, into something akin to a snarl, his eyes darting in a rare kind of fury that renders him speechless. It does not look good on him. Ikora’s face remains stoic, but her eyes drop to the ground. She seems unwilling to wait for a reply.

“We’ll be in touch,” Miyu's Ghost says for her, an easy barrel-roll of his small body meant to cast off the strange anxiety that’s settled over them. He swivels back to his Guardian. “Her heart rate and blood pressure are still low, but stabilizing. I don’t think she’ll be up and moving for a bit.”

“If you need anything,” Ikora says. “Contact Ophiuchus and I will be right there.”

Tamashii bobs in the affirmative. The Warlock Vanguard looks over to Zavala once more. His eyes dare her to challenge him - a strangely ruthless, aggressive look for him - but it is too much for his counterpart and Ikora takes her leave.

Shaxx rises. “I - ah,” He stretches, as though taking a knee had gotten to him. “The same for me, Ghost. Simply call and I shall be there. Though,” He eyes her carefully until she tracks him. It's almost too slow to be purposeful. “I suspect she’s in good hands.”

Then, they’re alone. She can still smell ash and heavy ammo, but the dampness of the earth lingers. It is blessedly silent. She is light-headed and limp, her eyes heavy, breaths slow and long. The pads of blue fingers tuck her hair back with gentle precision, and he runs his knuckles down her cheek in time to her breathing.

Tamashii and Adelaide flutter around her, scanning her carefully in twin, glowing beams.

Zavala holds her close for a long, long time.

[melanoradrood]

66 - Staring At The Other’s Lips, Trying Not To Kiss Them, Before Giving In please :D

in honor of rebelcaptainsmutweekend 

They’ve been at this for weeks now, working to assemble a KX unit, where they could place the memory core for Kay. When he had been shot on Scarif, what had been destroyed was the power supply, the battery station… in essence, his heart. What had been unaffected, however, was the brain, everything that made Kay, well, Kay.

They had only had a few seconds to grab it, Cassian knowing exactly what to grab, having previously reprogrammed part of it to give Kay free choice, to join the Rebellion, to join Cassian, but even with the knowledge of what was important, the wires were frayed, some had to be entirely replaced, and it was slow work.

The chassis was perfect, the shell of it all ready to accept what was missing, and now, they just have to finish replacing the issues on the core. There had been blaster residue, one of the circuits was completely fried, and Jyn had somehow managed to completely destroy part of the ocular drive, which meant replacing it… but today, if they kept at it, it would be done.

Kay would be in a new body, and they could bring him back up. His last memories would be of death, or near death, and then…

He would be with them, in Cassian’s room on Crait, the current base of Intelligence for the Rebel Alliance.

“I have to admit, I have missed it,” Jyn says, carefully holding the magnifying glass over the chamber. Cassian is working with tiny tools, attempting to slide the wire into place, wrapping it around with a pair of tweezers, and it’s hard to see, even with all of the lights on.

“What, you mean you miss the sarcasm?” Cassian asks, grinning a little under his breath.

“I miss someone else calling you on your bantha shit,” she retorts, and Cassian has to pull away to fix her with a glare, then chuckle a little.

“Yes, well, I am certain he will have a lot to say, once he’s awake again.”

They have a list of things to tell the droid, like about what happened on Scarif, how the Death Star was destroyed, why they were no longer on Yavin…

In particular, Jyn wants to know his thoughts on her, whether or not she is a friend, even how he feels about… well, she’s interested to know Kay’s thoughts about her, and Cassian…

She hasn’t said anything to Cassian about it, of course. His thoughts, in their downtime, have been entirely on this project. She knows it’s important to him, understands why, and when she had brought back the KX from one of her missions, he had nearly cried. Nearly two months later, and Kay is almost back together.

She doesn’t know what they’ll have to talk about, after this, what they’ll do together. It had been awkward, once they were both out of medical, to find a reason to spend time with one another, to find ways to see him, but now…

She’s happy, honestly, that she can return his friend to him, that she can help him like this, but it means returning to being alone. She’s still not officially part of the Rebel Alliance, not really, and she could leave, but… she keeps hoping that Cassian will ask her to stay, rather than just assuming she won’t go. 

“And, there,” Cassian says, the last wire finished being wrapped.

They haven’t charged the unit, yet, instead waiting until everything is plugged in, and when Cassian carefully sets the core into the frame, they both hold their breath. Everything gets plugged in, wires attached, and once it’s done…

Cassian plugs it into the charging unit, so that they can wait to see what happens, wait to see if Kay is in there, if they had done this properly.

There’s a blaster sitting on the table, and they don’t talk about it, but Jyn knows where to aim to disable the thing, to not harm the memory core.

“How long?” she asks, and Cassian licks his lips.

“A few minutes, maybe? Could be an hour. It all depends on how long it takes for everything to power up enough for the core to download the data of the new frame, and for the frame to accept the core.”

A few minutes to an hour, before she has to say good bye.

“I’ve enjoyed this, with you,” she says, and she doesn’t look at Cassian, her eyes still on the KX. She won’t think of it as Kay until she hears the tinny voice laced with sarcasm. “Working on the droid, I mean. Thank you, for allowing me to help.”

A hand covers hers, and Jyn looks up to see Cassian leaning in, holding onto her hand tight.

“Jyn… you cannot possibly…” He pauses, then shakes his head. She can guess what he was trying to say, but she lets him restart his thoughts. “I am forever grateful for what you have given me. I couldn’t imagine not doing this with you. Thank you.”

She smiles at him, something tight, and gives a nod. His hand doesn’t let go, though, and she realizes he’s still leaning in, eyes locked on hers.

“Cassian…” She breathes out his name, and he nods, like he might know what she’s trying to say, trying to ask, even if she doesn’t.

“Jyn, you must know…”

He can’t seem to bring himself to go any further, but he doesn’t have to. She can see it in his eyes. His eyes, which are lingering on her lips. Her tongue flicks out, wetting them, and Cassian sucks in a breath, licking his own lips. Her eyes are drawn to it, drawn to the movement, and she…

Karking hell, she wants to kiss him, wants him to kiss her. She thinks he might want it as well, and that opens up so many other questions that Jyn hasn’t even begun to figure out for herself, but she wants to know. She wants him to tell her, to show her, before she has to lean in.

She does it anyways, even though she’s scared, and he does so as well. They’re both leaning forward, not, and his eyes flick up to hers for a moment, then back down to her lips. Neither of them is pulling away, but neither of them is closing the gap either.

She thinks, then, that this is it… this is the stalemate. This is their great story, right here, where they both leaned in, and no one made the final move. She’ll leave this room, leave his life, and forever look back on this moment, wondering what would have happened if she had just leaned in.

Jyn knows, realistically, that life is short, and she’ll be damned if she’s going to live with any regrets.

Closing the last few inches, Jyn presses her lips to his. She can’t even pull back, because Cassian is kissing her back, his hand moving from hers to her hair, cupping her cheek. His lips part immediately, and she presses into him, her body taking the two steps towards him so that they’re grabbing at one another.

There’s a faint sound beside her, but Jyn doens’t notice, because Cassian has already got her hair down, his fingers running through it, and she’s gripping at his shirt, holding him tight, trying to not let him go.

“… Oh God. Is this hell?”

They both rip away from one another, looking to see that the KX unit is alive, and there’s a whirling that sounds absurdly familiar, just like Kay, letting out a sigh.

“Yes, this must be hell. It’s the only logical answer.”

Jyn lets out a laugh, then looks up at Cassian, who is grinning.

“Welcome back, old friend. We have so much to tell you…”

Find the Prompt List here!

[emulateharry]

Don’t Give Me Those Eyes

A dear, sweet friend asked for a piece based on the song by James Blunt.  Having been in a bit of a writing dry spell, this has taken MUCH longer than I had hoped.  Thanks for your patience @a-butterfly-on-his-tummy.  Part two coming soon.   If you like it, please like, reblog or send me a message.  I live for that stuff. If you don’t like it, I love that feedback too. 

WARNING: There are some domestic violence issues--emotional and sexual abuse. Read at your own risk.

Harry tuned the satellite radio to a soft instrumental station and the notes wafted through the room. The scents of vanilla and cinnamon perfumed the air from the half-dozen white mini candles he had arranged on the tables and the desk, their tiny flames casting a golden glow. Setting the remote on the credenza he turned to look at the woman reclining naked on the bed.   His lips spread into a smile as he walked to the edge and climbed up next to her.  Her soft pink lips curled up to mirror his and she reached to place her fingers on his cheek.  He sighed at her touch and leaned gently into her hand before talking it in his as he kissed her fingertips then leaned down to kiss her lips.   Slowly, because tonight they had the time, he explored her mouth savoring her taste.  He planned to taste all of her before the night was finished.  He planned to touch every inch of her and sear the memory in his mind.  He planned to love her as she deserved to be loved.

They made love all night long, trying to keep the dawn at bay.  The Earth spun as it always did, inexorably speeding them to their rendezvous with the sun.  Their passion became more desperate as the first rays peeked over the Sunrise Mountains to the east.  Through the window they watched the sky lighten from black to gray to pink while wrapped in each other, whispering secrets that only they two could share.  They showered together and he ordered breakfast as she packed the few clothes she had brought into her carry-on.  They ate the simple meal together in the suite’s dining room while sitting as close to one another as they could.  Too soon it was time to call for the car.  She rose to get her things together and he watched helplessly.

The unspoken rule was that they never talked about it.  Never.  But he couldn’t stop the words that came out of his mouth as she bent to pick up her bags.

“Elizabeth, please. Please don’t go.”

She froze with her back to him and he held his breath, not daring to hope.  A small shudder rippled through her and she turned to look at him, tears glimmering in her eyes.

“Harry.  You know I can’t.”

“Please,” he whispered, not daring to move lest he grab her and never let her go.

“Harry, I can’t…”

“Damn it!  I hate this! Elizabeth.  Look at me and tell me that you don’t love me. Tell me!”

“Harry…” she began as the tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Don’t go back to him.  Don’t leave me. Stay.  Stay and let me love you.”

She covered her mouth to stifle the sobs she couldn’t control.  He moved to hold her but she put her hand out to stop him.  “Please Harry.  I have to go,” she whispered.

He stood still and watched her walk toward the door, her back stiff.

“I love you.  I love you Elizabeth,” he called after her.  Her steps faltered but she didn’t stop.  She went out the door without looking back.  The click of the lock was lost to his shouted “No!”

*

He had met her at an industry party a year ago.  She was there with her husband, an up and coming producer whose latest project was climbing the charts.  Harry had been impressed with him and had even thought about working with the man until he had heard him talking with Tyler Johnson.  They were catching up, having worked together on another project previously, when Tyler asked about his wife.

“Why do you want to know about my wife?” he had asked, eyes narrowing as he stared at Tyler, lips pressed into a thin line.

Harry saw Tyler’s eyes widen as he responded “She was always so sweet when she came to the studio.  I was a big fan of her cookies.”

The man continued to stare at Tyler and, as he watched, the furrow between Harry’s brows  deepened as the tension became more and more uncomfortable.  Finally noticing that Harry was standing there, Jared turned his attention to him and his eyes narrowed again.

“What are you looking at, Styles?” the aggression in his tone hard to miss.

“I’m not sure,” Harry responded evenly, straightening his posture as he stood to his full height which happened to be quite a few inches taller than the man before him.  Though his stance was relaxed, it was clear that Harry was not intimidated.

The man grumbled something before stalking off.  

“What was that about?” Harry asked, watching Jared search the room.

“I have no idea.  His wife, Elizabeth, is a lovely woman.  I had no idea he would react like that. Weird.”

Tyler turned to a passing waiter to ask for another drink while Harry continued to watch the man as he moved stiffly around the room.  He stormed up to a woman who was chatting with a young recording artist and grabbed her arm interrupting their conversation.  Harry couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could hear the anger as the man’s voice got louder and louder.  The woman tried to calm him but he was not listening to her.  WIth a final word he turned on his heel and strode off to the bar.

Harry continued looking at the woman who was trying to reassure the young singer.  She was tall, at least 5’8”, with dark blonde hair and a pert little nose in a pretty face.  She laughed and Harry felt the corners of his lips curl at the musical sound.  She glanced in his direction and he inhaled sharply as her big blue eyes met his.  What the hell just happened?  She smiled shyly at him and he felt his dimples pop as he returned the expression.  She turned back to the young woman next to her and resumed their conversation, a bit of pink rising into her cheeks.  As surely as if he had been a fish hooked on her line, he felt himself being drawn to her and made his way casually in her direction.

*

Elizabeth was trying to regain her internal composure.  She had become adept at schooling her features into a mask of calm so she was pretty sure that her face did not reflect the turmoil that Jared’s rant had caused.  She didn’t know what had set him off this time but she knew that he blamed her for whatever it was.  She sighed softly to herself thinking of the diatribe she would endure on the ride home.  Maybe if he got drunk enough he would pass out and forget.  She could only hope. ��She tried to focus on what the young woman was saying but in truth she had forgotten her name.  It was something unusual.  Xenon? No, that was a gas.  Um, Xenia.  Yes, that was it.

Elizabeth noticed that Xenia had shifted her attention to something behind her.  Elizabeth was about to turn when a glass of champagne was held out to her.  She looked up to see Harry Styles holding the crystal flute, and she took it shyly muttering a thanks.

“Hi Xenia, it’s nice to see you again.”  Looking at Elizabeth he said, “Hi, I’m Harry.”

Elizabeth was mesmerized by his nearness.  It took her a moment to remember how to speak before she introduced herself.  “Hi Harry.  I’m Elizabeth.  Elizabeth Ezel.”  

Harry’s face lit up as he smiled at her, and she almost forgot to breathe at the sight.  To try and compose herself she took a sip of the bubbly wine.  Elizabeth could barely concentrate on the small talk, and she was grateful that Xenia was with them.  She chanced a look at Harry and found that he was watching her, his magnetic smile drawing her in.  She quickly turned her attention back to Xenia who was, thankfully, in the middle of a somewhat lengthy story about how she met Harry.  Elizabeth heard the words but had no idea what the young woman was saying.  Every nerve in her body seemed to be vibrating to a frequency that Harry emitted. She had no rational thoughts.  The primitive reptilian part of her brain had taken over so that all she could feel were sensory notes: intense green of his eyes, the deep rumble of his laugh, the cool of the glass in her hand, the sweet bubbles of the wine, the clean but spicy scent of his cologne.  

He had just asked her a question and she blinked while trying to force her mind to respond when her arm was grabbed in a painful grip by her husband.

“It’s time to leave,” he said, snatching the champagne flute from her other hand and placing it roughly on a table so that it fell over and the remains of the golden liquid spilled out and onto the floor.

“Jared! It’s made a mess---”

“Not. Another. Word,” he said through clenched teeth as he pulled her behind him towards the door.

Elizabeth felt the heat blooming in her cheeks and looked back apologetically at Harry and Xenia who were staring dumbstruck at the couple.  Harry took a step to follow but Xenia placed her hand on his arm.  

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, looking concerned.

Harry looked down at her before responding “Why?”

“I get the feeling that it would be worse for her later if you were to interfere.”

As realization of what she meant dawned the blood drained from his face.  He stared towards the door, a deep frown creasing his brow.

*

In the car on the way home Elizabeth sat mutely as Jared shouted at her.  

“I don’t know why I bring you to these things.  You’d think I would learn.  There you were throwing yourself at every man in the room.  I saw you drooling all over Styles, acting like a dog in heat.  You know what those industry people are talking about now?  What a slut Jared Ezel has for a wife.”

Elizabeth felt the heat rise to her cheeks once again as the vicious words stung her eyes.  She gripped the door handle and willed herself to not cry.  Jared was driving erratically, having imbibed far too much at the party.  She was somewhat afraid that they would wreck but a tiny part of her wondered if that would be a bad thing.  

“In case you have forgotten, you belong to me.  You. Are. Mine.”

Elizabeth kept her eyes downcast knowing that if she looked at him her revulsion would be apparent.  She could not risk that in the state he was in.  They were almost home.  Maybe he would get it all out of his system on the drive and she could just take a shower and go to bed.  

He made a wide, fast turn into their driveway, the tires squealing a bit before he slammed on the brakes to avoid driving through the garage door.  He turned the car off and bolted out unsteadily.  She sat for a moment with eyes closed trying to calm herself when her door was yanked open and he grabbed her wrist, dragging her out of the seat.  She stumbled as he pulled her along to the front door, cursing under his breath at her clumsiness.  Fumbling with the keys he managed to get the door open and slammed it behind them.  Throwing the keys onto the table in the foyer he turned to her.

Snatching a fistful of her hair in one hand and her jaw with the other, he forced her mouth open to receive his tongue in a bruising kiss. Elizabeth willed her muscles to relax, knowing that resisting him would only enrage him further.  Pulling her head back by her hair, he sneered into her face as she tried to maintain a placid expression.  

Bringing his mouth next to her ear he whispered “You belong to me.”

Still holding her hair, he maneuvered her into the living room and shoved her over the back of the couch.  He hiked up her skirt and she felt the cool air on her bare skin as he pulled her panties down just before she felt the burning sting of his hand as it struck her bare bottom.  She heard the zipper of his trousers and seconds later she felt the sharp pain as he plunged into her with no warning and no preparation.  She cried out before she could stop herself, tears filling her eyes as he rutted like an animal while repeating the mantra “You are mine.”

The alcohol and the rage conspired to make his already tiny endurance even shorter.  In less than a minute he grunted one last time before emptying himself inside her.  He held her hips against him for a long beat, fingers dug deep into her flesh, before withdrawing suddenly and zipping himself back up.  He looked at his wife still bent over the couch.

“Now you look like the whore that you are,” he said with disgust before stalking from the room.

*

Elizabeth sank into the hot water of the tub slowly, hissing slightly at the sting against her tender flesh.  She had bruises in the shape of fingertips on her hips and on her wrist.  She was fairly certain that her backside was bruised as well from the smack of Jared’s hand.  She sat gingerly against the back of the tub and let the warm water and bubbles surround her.  Closing her eyes she tried to calm her mind but the chaotic thoughts would not be contained.

He’s getting worse.  He was drinking more and his jealousy was growing.  She had tried to be a good wife, she really had. She just didn’t know what that term meant to Jared; it seemed his definition changed nearly every day.  She worked hard to be a gracious hostess, a gentle helpmate, a supportive friend.  She would have liked to say that she loved him but she didn’t want to lie to herself.  To be honest, she had never really loved him but had done her best to please her parents by marrying him.

Her parents had always been critical of her choices and had actually laughed at her plans for her life.   They were very old fashioned and felt strongly that her place was in the home as a devoted wife and mother.  Women, according to them, had no place out in the world without a man.  Their strong-willed and ambitious daughter was somewhat of an embarrassment to them.  They had met Jared at a dinner party and found a kindred spirit.  They took to him as the son they never had, Elizabeth being an only child.  It was almost as if they had courted him, gradually integrating him into their family.  By the time that she realized that her parents had offered her to Jared for a wife, it was too late.  The pressure they inflicted was tremendous and, as strong of will as she was, she was too young at 19 to defy them completely.  So she married a man she didn’t love to please everyone but herself.

It wasn’t that bad at first.  She had finished her degree and began working as a freelancer so that she could have a flexible schedule.  Jared was handsome enough and he liked having a pretty wife as much as he liked having a sporty car.  He was pleasant most of the time and could even be entertaining when he wanted.  Their love life was satisfying, for him at least.  Elizabeth had been a virgin when they married and, truthfully, didn’t see what all the fuss was about.  Sex was one of her duties as a wife and while it wasn’t great at least it wasn’t awful. The best thing about it was that afterwards he was usually extra nice to her for a day or so.  He didn’t seem to want it terribly often and that was fine with her.

Somewhere around her third anniversary things began to change.  Jared decided to switch careers and take a chance on being a record producer.  He had always prided himself on his musical knowledge and would critique new releases in long lectures to his wife.  He found success rather quickly but he also found increased stress.  He often came home in a bad mood and began to find fault with more and more things that Elizabeth did.  She tried to understand and be supportive, but she seemed to fail more often than she succeeded.  Jared began to blame her for all of the struggles he endured, and he let her know that she was the cause.  

His constant criticism slowly ate away at her self esteem and, before long, she began to doubt herself. She spent most of her time trying to appease her husband and less and less time being an individual.  It didn’t help that her parents always took his side in any disagreement.  Elizabeth would have never shared any of their marital issues with her parents, but Jared had no hesitance in doing so.  One night, when she was on her period and feeling awful with cramps that had her curled up in bed with a heating pad, he came in from work and wanted sex.  She said no for the first time in their marriage. She was mortified 30 minutes later when he had called her parents and they spent an hour chastising her on the speaker.  She had never felt more alone.

Her marriage began to disintegrate faster after that night and her husband’s anger began to escalate.  He was increasingly suspicious, angry, and now violent.  She did not know what she was going to do, but she did know that she was not happy.  There was an obvious way to fix the situation.  She sat there working on a plan until the water was tepid, and her toes and fingers pruned.  She climbed out of the tub, dressed in an appropriately matronly cotton gown and brushed her teeth before climbing into bed.  Hugging the edge of the king-sized mattress, she closed her eyes on her husband’s drunken snores.  Just as she dropped off to sleep her mind was invaded by the most beautiful green eyes and soft pink smile.

*

Harry was supposed to be working.  He was trying to write songs for his next album but all he had managed to do for the past two hours was doodle.  Glenne came into the room carrying two bottles of water and glanced down at the papers on the desk.  

“Who is that?  She looks familiar,” she said, looking at the face Harry had drawn over and over again.  

“Hmm? Who’s who?”

“Her.  The woman you have been drawing,” Glenne replied, pointing.

Harry was surprised to look down and see Elizabeth Ezel’s face looking back at him.  

Jeff got up from the sofa in the corner to take a bottle and have a look at the drawing.  

“Oh.  Wow.  I know who that is,” he said after a closer look. “That’s Jared Ezel’s wife, isn’t it?”

Harry just stared at the face that his mind had conjured and sent to his hands.

“H, he’s not a man to mess with.  I’m not sure he’s all that stable.”

“I’m not planning on messing with anyone.  I’ve just seen her a few times.  She seems nice.”

“She is nice,” Glenne replied. “I talked to her for quite a while at the Columbia meet and greet last week.  Did you know she’s a book editor?  She has some really funny stories about her work.”

“I’ve never been able to have a conversation with her.  The times I’ve been around her I mainly said ‘hello’ and then her husband dragged her away. I don’t think he likes me very much,” Harry said as a furrow appeared between his brows.

“He doesn’t like anyone but himself very much,” Glenne muttered.

“Well then Harry, you’re going to have to be careful.  We’re at the same table as The Ezels at the RIA banquet next week,” Jeff informed him.

Harry’s expression changed and one dimple made itself known.  

“Oh terrific,” Glenne said.

*

The Recording Industry of America banquet was a place for music professionals to see and be seen, to schmooze and network, to forge deals and introduce new talent to the industry leaders.  It was also, thought Harry, decidedly tedious. Except this year.  He had spent the evening so far trying to draw Elizabeth Ezel into conversations.   She was stunning in a simple sapphire blue dress that accentuated her trim figure and enhanced the blue of her eyes.  

She had answered most questions from the group in monosyllables as her husband talked over and around her.  Glenne drew her into a discussion about the latest best-selling book and Harry felt his heart stutter as her eyes lit up and she became animated.  He observed her for several minutes while pretending to be listening to Jared Ezel pontificating about some arcane use for a wah wah pedal.  At last he asked Elizabeth an innocuous question about her latest project and, to his dismay, she looked up at him with a hint of alarm.  She glanced quickly at her husband and saw that he was engaged in conversation with Jeff before she answered.

“I’m editing a book by a new writer.  It’s a collection of stories about a famous singer and his daughter,” her reply was just audible above the din of the room.  Her husband grunted at her and she cast her eyes back down to the table.  She seemed to shrink into herself under his displeasure.

Jeff, on receiving a glare from Glenne, sighed before offering to introduce Jared to his dad.  Jared hesitated before rising to join him but the opportunity to meet such a legend was too good to pass up.  Shooting a look at his wife he bent to whisper loudly “Behave yourself.”

Harry’s lips were pressed tightly together and his eyes narrowed as he watched the two men maneuver around tables en route to Irving.  Giving himself a little shake, he turned his attention to Elizabeth and gifted her with a lazy smile.   He felt a warmth fill him from head to toe as he met her eyes.    He stared, blatantly, for a long beat before widening his grin and leaning towards her.  The rest of the room seemed to disappear as he focused on her, he was hungry to hear her speak.

“Tell me more.”

[rollinscarisi]

How Does A Moment Last Forever II

So this story got such a good feedback from you guys, I definitively wasn’t expecting it. Thank you so much!! 💜💜💜💜

Here is the part 2 some of you asked for! Hope it was worth the wait!

Part 1 can be found here (x), if you need a reminder. 

How Does A Moment Last Forever II

Meredith looked at the ultrasound screen and saw what looked to be a blurry image of a tiny baby.

“Congratulations?”

Amelia’s world stopped. Breathe Amelia, just breath. – she told herself. She felt Owen’s grip on her hand tightening and his voice calling her name. She could hear the confusion, the questions and the surprise.

But all she could do was look at Alex Karev, knowing he would understand the look in her eye.

---“---

“Alright, everybody out!” One by one, the others started leaving the room, Meredith being the last, but not before gently squeezing Amelia’s shoulder, letting the neurosurgeon know she was there for whatever she needed.

Amelia closed her eyes, grateful for Alex’s attitude, taking charge of the situation.

“Amelia?” Owen was still holding onto her hand, with no intention of letting go. “Amelia, wha-“

“Hunt, out!”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex sighed. He was never a fan of the trauma surgeon. “Look, this is her business. Not yours. You’re not her husband anymore, you made sure of it, that was your choice. So, get out!”

Owen clenched his fists and took one last look at Amelia, who still had her eyes closed, and reluctantly left the room. He still felt like he had a right, on some level, to be there, after all, she was pregnant with his baby, he hoped so. But as much as he hated it, Karev was right. He wasn’t her husband anymore. And not for the first time, his stomach tightened at the notion.

“Is everyone gone?”

Karev turned back at Amelia, “You can open your eyes now.” She did as he said, and there was no hiding the tears already forming in her eyes. “Want me to leave too? So you get some alone time to think?”

“Can you stay here? Please…”

“Of course.”, Alex said, as he took a seat on the stool previously occupied by Owen.

The two doctors sat there in silent for what felt hours, when in reality only a few seconds passed.

“What am I gonna do, Alex?”, her voice so soft, almost souding like a scared child.And even though Alex knew she definitively wasn’t a child, he also knew she was feeling absolutely terrified.

“I can’t answer that for you.”, he grabbed her hand, “But I am going to be here, for whatever you decide.”

“I can’t abort this baby. I mean, it’s a miracle, right? A baby is a miracle.”

“Then you keep the baby. I know you’re gonna love this baby no matter what.”

“I feel like I already do. Is that weird?”

Alex smiled, “No, it’s not weird.”

“God, everything is such a mess right now. I’m divorced and my ex-husband and father of this baby, who I may or may-not still have feelings for, is in-love with another woman. This is not how I imagined I’d be a mother again.”

“I thought you didn’t want kids…?”

“Owen thinks so too… Because that’s what Tumor Amelia told him.” She laughed somberly, “But I do, I’ve always wanted kids, lots of them.”

“Well, you’re off to a good start then.” Amelia laughed, her real laugh, and Alex felt like his job was done, at least for the time being. “How’s the pain?”

“Better, it’s mostly uncomfortable right now.”

“Do you feel ready to talk to Hunt?”

That was a very good question. Did she? Logically, Amelia knew she had to. He had the right to be there for the child. And she had absolutely no doubt he would be. She knew for certain that this baby was going to have the most wonderful and loving father any child could hope for.

“Give me 10 minutes, and then let him in, please.”

Alex nodded and silently left the room. And to no one’s surprise, there was Hunt standing right outside, noticeably anxious and worried.

“How is she? Is she still in pain?”

“No, mostly uncomfortable.”, as much as he didn’t like the guy, Alex was glad the trauma surgeon seemed to be worried about Amelia, and not only for the baby.

Owen moved forward, ready to enter the room, but Alex blocked his path. “Give her 10 minutes. Let figure herself out, alright?”

The trauma surgeon nodded, grateful for Karev for being there and supporting Amelia, even if it made him feel jealous, obviously wanting to be the one Amelia trusted herself with the most.

Eventually Karev left with Jo, when the resident showed up asking how Amelia was feeling. Bad news always travel fast, and an ambulance exploding was no exception. Owen anxiously waited the 10 minutes Amelia had asked for. Never had 10 minutes felt more like torture.

---“---

Once Alex left the trauma room, Amelia lost herself in her thoughts.

She had found out about the baby not even an hour ago, but, weirdly enough, she already felt a connection to it. But was she ready for a baby? A tiny human being, completely dependent on her. As much as she tried to go about her days as if everything was completely fine, her life was a mess right now. She was recently divorced, something she never thought she’d be, and to try to cope with it, Amelia immediately threw herself into a big surgical project.

Starting a no-feelings-friends-with-benefits relationship with Owen had been a mistake. A very pleasurable mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. The issue was, she really, really missed sex and the man was so damn good at it. But then they had ironically started talking about feelings and she ended up sending him off to Teddy.

Another mistake. She felt like crap once she realized he had actually gotten on a plane and fled to Germany. But she did want him to be happy. And if it meant without her, she’d have to learn how to deal with it. 

This new part of the equation, this unexpected miracle baby, definitively complicated things. For everyone.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. A second latter a head of red hair could be seen, his blue eyes silently asking if he could come in. She silently nodded.

Funny how silent communication was never their problem. If only they were able to use their words and communicate like the two adults they were...

They stared at each other for a few seconds, blue on blue, until Amelia broke the silence.

“So, um,- I’m pregnant. But you know that already.” Straight to the point, there was no use in dancing around the elephant in the room. Amelia tried her hardest to keep the attitude she had going for the past few weeks, but her voice was quivering due to the crippling anxiety she had been feeling ever since she heard her baby’s heartbeat.

“It’s mine, right?”

“Of course it’s yours! What, you think I’ve just been sleeping around?”

“No, no, not at all.”, he quickly tried to fix it, knowing he was close to offending her, “I just- God, Amelia, we’re having a baby!” he smiled big, the kind of smile that form wrinkles near the eyes, probably the biggest smile Amelia had ever seen on him.

“Yep. We are…” she tried her hardest to control the tears that were threatening to fall. But she failed miserably.

As soon as Owen saw her eyes watering, he quickly made his way to her, wrapping her in his arms.

“It’s okay, it’s alright.”, he placed a gently kiss on her hair. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“This is a mess, Owen. What are we gonna do?”

“That doesn’t matter right now.”, he said, running his fingers through her brown locks, “You’re okay.”

Physically yes, but her mind was usually her biggest enemy, and that was way more dangerous.

“You’re safe, Amelia.”  

She wanted so hard to believe his words.

But she didn’t feel safe at all.

[songof-hope]

Here’s Hoping (ch3)

Melinda and Phil have very slowly come to terms with their separation when Phil, troubled by project T.A.H.I.T.I., calls Melinda to find she's still his support system.

(can be read on AO3)

Their separation had been a very challenging time for them both.  

Not only did Phil feel like he was missing his wife but also his partner, his right hand, the one person willing to call him out with no qualms. He missed the way she would roll her eyes at his ideas but then help him through anyway. Or how she would yell at him when she thought he was being reckless. But mostly he missed the way she would subtly brush her hand over his when she could tell he was stressed, reminding him of how well she could read him, without putting on a big display.

Melinda missed his confidence that things would turn out okay, a confidence that irritated her to no end but she secretly loved. When she awoke from a nightmare, drenched in sweat, she remembered the way he would talk her down without even touching her. It was both one of the reasons she left and something she missed once it was gone. But she had become a different person in that building in Bahrain and those previously normal reassurances only reminded her how much had changed for her. She didn’t expect anyone to understand, even if Phil tried his hardest.

As time went on, they learned to live without the reassuring presence of their significant other at home and of their partner at work. Phil had began climbing the ladder in his career while Melinda tucked herself away into a place she was far too overqualified to be in. He still checked on her from time to time, never truly giving up on her, but only ever at work to bring her tea or to personally deliver his paperwork. Their conversations were usually hollow but it was worth it to occasionally see a ghost of a smile upon her face, to know she was there somewhere.

They never went through with a divorce.  Melinda, losing her nerve every time he strolled onto her floor and settled near her desk, couldn’t bring herself to ever broach the subject. She felt like a coward for forgoing it to avoid seeing the look she knew his eyes would have if she ever brought it up. She wished he would just give up on her, be angry with her for leaving him and do the same. She believed he was better off without her, away from her constant storm, but she couldn’t bear to dash the hopeful look he carried with him on every visit. For Phil, the subject never even crossed his mind, he loved Melinda and would wait patiently for her to recover, giving her the time she needed, even as a potential recovery date drew further into oblivion as time went on. His unyielding faith in her was one of the few things keeping her from completely closing herself off for good. She wasn’t who she used to be but he accepted that. Still, they made a very ill accepted peace with being separated.

They had lost their composure the night Phil had called her.

He hadn’t meant to intentionally do it. He meant to give her the space she felt she needed, but he had done it as an automated response and he was too worked up to realize his actions until it was too late.  The current case he was running was really starting to get to him. The results were distressing at a minimum. He should have known bringing those people back from the dead would have major negative consequences. He could still see the marks they carved into their skin, desperate to find something but not knowing what that something was. He had helped create this and he couldn’t help but feel negativity run through him. He needed to talk to her. To just hear her voice. He knew that would help him calm down. Guilt instantly bubbled in his chest the moment she answered. He wasn’t supposed to call her on a whim like that, just to make himself feel better. It was late and he shouldn’t have bothered her.  

“Phil? Is everything okay?” she sounded surprised, worried even, but not upset.

“Oh Melinda, I-I’m sorry I didn’t realize what I was doing until you answered. I didn’t mean to bother you, I’ll go.”

“No, it’s okay. You want to talk about what’s got you so worked up?” She always had been able to pinpoint his emotions and cut directly to the point. He felt bittersweet at the familiarity of it all even though it had been well over a year since they had spoken more than a few sentences to each other at a time, over a year since she left.

“No I’m fine, it’s not really a big deal, I’m just tired I think.” Any issue he had over his current case had flown from his mind at the sound of her voice, all he could focus on now was prolonging their conversation for as long as he could. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” which they both knew was code for not fine. “Just another day of putting together welcome packets.”

“Sounds like a great time.”

“Well someone has to do it.”

He resisted the urge to tell her how much better she could do than sitting at a desk all day putting together paperwork. He knew why she was down there. It was the same reason he was calling her on the phone and not whispering his worries to her in the darkness of their bed. He hated how much trauma had been taken on by the woman he loved and he had no desire to add to that by putting his opinion where it was unwanted. So instead, unable to come up with any conversation points in that moment, he opted to say what he was always thinking, what he felt to his core.

“I miss you.”

There was a pause before he heard her response and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Me too.” A comfortable silence passed between them before she spoke again. “Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you call me?” He knew that question was coming but it still made him cringe when it did.  

“I guess I called you out of habit. You were always the person I wanted to talk to, still are actually. I can’t even talk about the case, it’s level ten, but I guess I was so upset that I didn’t think about what I was doing.”

He was worried he had scared her off with that admission but when he looked at his phone, it was still connected, she was still there.  He relaxed again when he heard her sigh.

“Do you want me to come over?”

Her offer surprised him, leaving him unsure if she truly meant it. It was something they had always done in their early years, before they lived together. They would return from missions they couldn’t discuss with each other but still sought comfort from one another, often calling late at night, letting themselves in to the other’s apartment. They would lay together in silence, using reassuring touches to ground their significant other to the present moment rather than their worries. He wanted that more than anything but he was terrified it would send all of the progress they had made hurdling back. It was just becoming okay for him to linger at her desk a bit longer when he came down to visit, to very rarely share a quick lunch. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”

“Phil.” Her tone was tired but he knew its meaning, I know you’re lying to me, tell the truth.

“Yeah, I do.”

It was nearing midnight when she finally got to their previously shared home and let herself in with the key she had never given back.  He had stood at the sound of the door and met her face to face in the living room, looking over her body for changes, noting how she did the same. She hadn’t lost anymore weight, that was good, but her body seemed slightly less toned, her peak physique no longer put into practice at her desk job. May didn’t need to see him to know his shoulders were tense, but she could see she was right nonetheless. His distress had physically manifested itself, creeping into his eyes as well. Once they assured themselves the other was okay physically, she allowed herself to be pulled into his chest, whispering their quiet hellos, letting his comforting scent envelope her. Silently, she took his hand and led him to the bedroom, tucking him under the covers before joining him. They spent a moment searching each other’s eyes, feeling safer about it in the dark. She sighed before kissing his head and tucking it under her chin, a move she had often used to soothe his worry on bad days.

“I’ve missed you,” he mumbled sleepily as he wrapped his arms around her, fists balling into her shirt like he was afraid she was going to disappear.

“Just go to sleep, I’m here,” she whispered into the darkness, rubbing soothing circles over his back, shivering involuntarily as she felt his lips press to her neck. After a brief moment, she felt him relax and settle into her as his arms pulled her closer, smiling when she sensed his breathing evening out. Shortly after, she drifted off as well, feeling safe enough to do so.

When he woke the next morning she was already gone but her lingering scent reminded him that it was real.

[onestowatch]

Q&A: Homeshake Talks Touring With Mac DeMarco, His Love for Migos, & Has an Existential Crisis

Peter Sagar, more popularly known as Homeshake, found his first bout of success as the guitarist for Mac DeMarco. But success was never what Sagar was in search of. Rather, the Canadian artist wished to pursue solitude, a sentiment that bleeds out in his airy, downtempo R&B. Having since left Mac DeMarco some time ago to fully invest himself in his Homeshake project–with no ill feelings, as the two regularly hang out when they find themselves in the same city– Sagar rarely tours despite his rapidly growing cult-like fanbase. In many ways, Sagar’s own fans embody the same frenzy that came to be associated with DeMarco’s live shows, but Sagar is the one in control now. His latest album the critically-acclaimed Fresh Air, is the culmination of that complete creative freedom.

A Homeshake show is a rare sighting, and much like the rarest of sightings, it is not be missed. His most recent show saw him play The Natural History Museum in Los Angeles, to an audience of avid fans, taxidermy dioramas, and prehistoric fossils. An odd venue for music by all accounts, but an all too fitting one for Sagar. Homeshake’s otherworldly music, often amplified by his penchant for vocal modulation, feels as if it’s perfectly designed for unique moments such as these. So, as I sat down to speak with the reclusive artist, adorned in a Sade shirt, I was introduced to an entirely new Homeshake than what I had come to expect. Instead, I learned of a Homeshake who was quick to express his love for pop and trap and who had come to find joy in making music entirely on his own terms.  

OTW: Any plans while you’re in town?

Sagar: Um, I got a lot of friends that live out here.  

OTW: Yeah, you have Mac out here, right?

Sagar: Mhm, yep. We had tacos with him last night.  

OTW: So, speaking of this whole set up. Pretty cool venue to play, right?

Sagar: Yeah, I like it. I really like this kind of museum, there’s one in Edmonton, and I used to always love it. I loved going there on school trips. Specifically, I liked the animal dioramas with all the weird … what’s it called? What is this stuff? Dead animal stuff?

OTW: Taxidermy?  

Sagar: Taxidermy! Yeah, all the taxidermy displays. So sweet.

OTW: Yeah, I used to go on school trips here a lot growing up. Have you played any cooler venues?

Sagar: I don’t know. All the venues, all the memories disappear.  

OTW: I want to say that I love all of your album artwork and everything that’s associated with it. I’m very embarrassed, but I’m wearing one of your shirts right now. My girlfriend gave me so much shit when I was leaving the house. I know your partner Salina does all your artwork. How does that collaboration come about?  

Sagar: Well, it just worked out very well because we’ve been together for like nine years. She started helping me make covers and stuff while we were still living in Edmonton, and a couple of times I would tell her an idea of what I thought looked good, but that never worked out well. So, I generally just let her do whatever she wants. It’s the best way. It’s the best way to just let Salina do whatever she wants, and it will be amazing.  

OTW: And does she just listen to the album and go from there?  

Sagar: I think so! She asks me if I have any ideas and I’m like, “No, we’re not going there. You can just figure it out.” And then it’s always perfect.

OTW: So, in the early days when you were first releasing music as Homeshake, you were still touring with Mac right? Was there a turning point when you decided that you wanted to fully devote yourself to Homeshake?

Sagar: Yeah, I was just in a very dark place and it was sort of just a never-ending tour schedule. Then trying to balance that and Homeshake and my relationship, it was just impossible. So, one had to go, so I choose Salina and myself.  

OTW: That was a good choice.

Sagar: Yeah, I think so. It worked out well.

OTW: So, now that with each new release you're growing a similar cult following. Do you ever worry about not being able to balance everything?

Sagar: No, I’m in control now. So, things only happen as I want them to. The difficulty with Mac was just that I had no control really because everyone else was down for everything, and I wasn’t going to be the wet blanket all the time. I still was. Now I just choose everything, so that’s why we tour so little.  

OTW: So, you’re originally from Edmonton, but then moved to Montreal and that’s where you adopted the name Homeshake. I saw that you just let go of all your other projects at that point. What were the earliest days of Homeshake like?

Sagar: We lived in a really small apartment in Montreal, and it wasn’t even cheap enough for how small it was, it was so shitty. We were there for like two years out of just laziness. I would make stuff on some really, really bad gear in my living room, and then I recorded some stuff in Mac’s living room. I recorded some stuff in a studio that I ended up renting and rehearsing at for a long time. It was just like slow, because I would be working on it and then suddenly have to go on tour for like seven months. So yeah, everything just took a long time.

OTW: What is the creative industry like in Montreal, as opposed to places like Los Angeles?  

Sagar: I mean, I don’t really know what it’s like here. It’s like all famous people, right? Everybody is famous? Every person in LA is famous?

OTW: Every single one. Yeah, just in this lobby alone. (laughs)

Sagar: (laughs) In Montreal the majority of it varies from neighborhood to neighborhood. Like there’s a lot of intense punk kids, but I don’t go there. But most of the musicians I know are DJs, everyone’s a fucking DJ in Montreal, and that’s fine. But yeah, it’s a lot of parties and a lot of raves, and I don’t participate in any of it all.

OTW: Not a big raver?

Sagar: No, I like dance music a lot. I like electronic music, but I don’t participate. I don’t know what Montreal is like anymore, I checked out. Not interested, really.

OTW: Speaking on your own music, it’s obviously very R&B driven which seems so different from your influences, well you have a lot of influences, but you like top 40s, trap, Migos…

Sagar: Mmm yeah, I love Migos.

OTW: Yeah, Migos are amazing. Have you always loved R&B, or did that come at a certain point?

Sagar: I wasn’t into it when I was younger, but when I was a kid, like the late 90s, early 2000s, I would watch everything that was on MTV, and like 80% of the music videos were R&B. So, I knew all the songs, and it was kind of like a guilty thing. I liked guitars, and I thought those were cool. So, I was wrong obviously (laughs). So that stuff was always kind of like inside my brain. And then it was actually Salina that kind of drew it out of me because she has a very encyclopedic knowledge of ‘90s R&B. It takes her a long time to remember whatever it is, but she always knows the song. It’s all her. I just steal the things she likes. (laughs)

OTW: So, speaking of Fresh Air, I read that name for the album came from smoking weed and just stepping out onto the balcony for fresh air. I wasn’t sure if that serious or not…

Sagar: Yeah.

OTW: Are there any other inspirations behind Fresh Air besides just good weed?

Sagar: (laughs) I don’t know, they all kind of have something. Most of the songs are pretty specific. I would have to look at a list of them and think about it for a really long time.

OTW: One thing that I really like about your music is what I’m guessing is vocal modulation. Particularly, the ones that kick off each album. They remind me of those rap skits from old hip-hop albums for. Where did that come from?  

Sagar: I don’t know, I just like sped-up and slowed-down voices. I used to record everything on cassette. And I would just always slow it down, speed it up. The regular speed is really boring. Yeah, I love high voices and low voices. I think they are kind of funny and kind of scary. So yeah, I’m not sure where I lifted it from. I just used to listen to a lot of screw tapes, so that probably gave me the idea. It’s certainly not an original idea by any means.

OTW: Well, you do it well for sure.

Sagar: (laughs) Thank you.

OTW: I also wanted to talk about how outspoken you are about political issues. As an artist with a platform, do you feel there’s a certain responsibility to be as outspoken?  

Sagar: Yeah, like I’m no expert. I don’t know all the details. You know, we are all stuck in the infinite scroll looking at headlines, but then you have to keep scrolling. It’s also like inescapable shit, so I kind of slowed down on it because it was such a constant inundating flow of information. It just feels like white noise at this point. Yeah, you kind of have to make your opinions clear, because what if I never did and then a bunch of Nazis liked me? That’s my fucking nightmare. So, I did an interview that came out at the beginning of Fresh Air and some of it was about how I got into some arguments online with some fucking alt-right losers that had previously liked my music, but now no longer do and that was good. It’s good to shed the trash from your life.  

OTW: Do you think you’d ever make a protest song or anything along those lines?

Sagar: No. (laughs) I can only sing about myself being like a sad loser. I could never take on real issues like that.

OTW: Do you have any favorite protest songs or albums?

Sagar: My favorite band until I was like seventeen was Rage Against The Machine. The other day we were in Texas, and I just was craving Rage Against The Machine, so we listened to some on the way back to the venue and had it at full blast as we pulled up in front, like cutting through the line of kids outside. It was kind of embarrassing, but it was amazing.

OTW: Such a good time.

Sagar: God, I love them.  

OTW: I mean, hopefully, they’ll come back one day soon.

Sagar: Yeah, Tom Morello is the greatest guitarist of all time.

OTW: So, I have definitely used a lot of your songs for mix tapes for friends and it definitely got me a girlfriend or two I’d say, so thank you for that. It just has such a vibe to it. What would you say is the ideal setting to listen to your music in?

Sagar: Just a relaxing one for whoever is listening to it. The place where I can write from is wherever I’m most relaxed and calm. That’s, I guess, why I don’t make like weird, screechy, angsty music or anything. I like comfort and solitude. So that’s probably what it would lend itself to the best.

OTW: And is your songwriting typically one of solitude?

Sagar: Yeah, I haven’t collaborated with anyone in a long time. I had for the three records I put out. I had guys running the board and helping me mix and stuff, but I write alone. I don’t remember what it’s like to collaborate with people. I’ve been trying to do that lately, and it’s been a real struggle. It’s like, “I don’t know what you want.” (laughs) I’m just really selfish. I was trying to produce for some people, just passing some things around, but I never want to give out the ones I really like, I want to keep it for myself. Yeah, very alone in it.

OTW: Just a sad lonely boy.

Sagar: (laughs) Yeah, something lame like that.

OTW: So, I know you’ve mentioned Fresh Air existing as part of a trilogy, with the first albums being the first parts of the trilogy, but there is still more Homeshake to come right?

Sagar: Oh yeah, I’m always working on more stuff. I was recording up until the day we came here, in between the Texas tour and before that. One of my most essential music machines at the moments is really on the fritz, and I think I have to like ship it back to its maker to get it fixed, so I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do for like three weeks while that’s happening. It’s freaking me out.  

OTW: So, what’s the plan to make music until then? 

Sagar: Oh, I don’t know, I’ll just have to use something else to make it. I just won’t be able to use my sampler drum machine which is the core of what I’m working on right now. I don’t know, I guess I’ll just make ambient music until it gets back.

OTW: I heard at one point you did want to make a droney ambient project.

Sagar: Yeah, I like that but when I try I don’t think I’m very good at it. There’s a real textural ASMR thing to that, and I need to work on it.  

OTW: Who are your Ones To Watch?

Sagar: One is definitely Un Blonde from Montreal. They’re very, very, very spectacular. Let me just scroll through the old music thing here. Yeah, he’s an amazing songwriter, Jean who’s like the center of that project. Oh God, I only listen to like super pop music these days (laughs). I really like Yves Tumor, I don’t know how small he is, but he should be bigger. He makes spooky, weird shit that I like a lot. Mmm, I know I’ve got friends.  

OTW: Anyone in the band make music? 

Sagar: Yeah! Brad is the lead-guitarist in another band called Nap Eyes. I feel bad because they’re on tour without him in Europe right now, but he’s here with us. So definitely shout out to Nap Eyes because I just took their fucking guitar player. Greg used to play drums for a lot of bands, but he moved from Montreal to the woods in BC now. I don’t know. I’ve totally isolated myself from everybody around me in Montreal, so I don’t even know what any of them are doing anymore. Oh God, very crazy reality check.  

OTW: Having an existential crisis right now?

Sagar: (laughs) Yeah, a little bit. I don’t know, I do like a monthly NTS show where I put all the weird stuff that I like. So, my ones to watch are whoever I played on it that last month.

OTW: Oh one quick last question. What’s your favorite dinosaur? 

Sagar: Brontasaurses. I’ve always loved the absolutely massive ones.

[avalon987]

THE DEW

A story which is part of a collection

https://payhip.com/AVALONCOLEHIVE

THE DEW

China

Chaozhou

1855

Huan Sen followed the sinuous path alongside the canal. Spring spread the essence of the renewed promise of the blossoming nature.

The ripples on the canal surface resembled dragon scales.

His spirit was always present to remind you to keep your vows otherwise his punishment would come swiftly. The bright orange of the lanterns in the streets announced that it was the hour of the demons.

In the beginning of the night, Huan Sen felt the devilish calling of the opium pipe.

For two years, he had been addicted to the poisonous volutes.

When he entered the den, dozens of men were lying on the mats. Some smiled, others had their eyes closed.

Huan Sen looked in his pocket, it was the last coins he had.

He was heavily in debt. He argued everyday with his wife who begged him to bring more money to feed the children.

He did not care any more.

Huan Sen had made up his mind, he was going to kill himself tonight, after this last pipe.

He put his head on the pillow, and he inhaled with the whole capacity of his lungs.

The gates of paradise opened.

Why life could not be like that all the time?

Always there was this stinging pain which destroyed his spirit.

Huan Sen could not see any exit from this hell.

Death would solve all his problems and sufferings.

He was ashamed of himself. He had let everybody down. He had failed miserably. He waisted his potential with this satanic drug and the despair that ensued.

But ten years ago, his future seemed so bright, he was appointed by the governor of the province to be the chancellor of the prefecture.

When he tried opium for the first time, it was just an experience, a new pleasure.

All his friends were already hooked, so it could not be so bad.

It was elation, he could find a relief from the pressures of family life.

He had imagined that raising children would be more fulfilling, it was the ultimate act of creation, but he could barely relate to his son and daughter.

He felt alienated.

He could not connect on a deeper level with his wife who constantly demanded more him.

When Huan Sen smoked, the doors of infinity opened. It brightened his mood.

He needed to go the most often he could to the den. He also drank more and more, and he went to see the concubines regularly.

To feed his lifestyle, he began to borrow money from his friends, but because he paid them back so late, at the end, they did not want to help him any more.

The prefect complained about the quality of his work.

Huan Sen was often late to the office.

He made more often mistakes because he could not concentrate like he used to before.

Sometimes he wept for hours at home.

He could not see an issue to his problems.

His wife scolded him everyday about the lack of resources; it was not the life she envisioned when she married him, she thought that Huan Sen was a promising young man with a bright future.

He was so desperate for money that he went to see shady characters to lend him more cash.

He made the mistake to not paying them back on time, and as warning, they went to ransack his home. They threatened to harm his family if he could not honour his debts.

Totally disgraced and ashamed, Huan Sen went to see his father who accepted to bail him out at the condition he stopped his addiction to opium.

His father also decided to pass on his wealth onto his younger brother even though Huan Sen was the first born ,and that he should inherit the majority of his father estate. He could not trust Huan Sen any more.

For three months, Huan Sen tried to stay sober, but the attraction of the opium was too strong.

The sensation of withdrawal was enormous.

He fell back again to his old habit.

He started to steal discreetly money from the prefect coffers.

When this was not enough, he re-contacted the shady people he had previously known. He proposed to help them corrupt the armed forces in the region.

It was an offence punishable by death.

Huan Sen was permanently fearing being caught.

These activities made rival gangs jealous.

To forget his worries, Huan Sen drowned deeper into the void of the opium and the promiscuity with the concubines.

Now his spirit was drained, he was tired of living. Everything seemed vain.

Tonight, he was going to end it all.

He could not be a burden for his family and community any longer.

The weight of the shame destroyed his soul.

Huan Sen went to the bridge where many jumped to commit suicide.

A soft breeze infused the night. It was the time.

Huan Sen was at peace.

A shadow just behind him started to talk.

“It’s a beautiful night, spring takes all its meaning at this hour.” said an old gentleman.

Huan Sen was surprised because he thought he was alone. He turned back. The man looked like an old monk.

“Yes it’s a beautiful night, but if you don’t mind, I’m going back home, my family is waiting for me, so I wish you a good night,” said Huan Sen.

“How many children do you have?” asked the old man

“I have one boy and a girl. The boy is eight year old and the girl is six year old.” said Huan Sen.

“Oh I see, it reminds me a man I met on the same bridge five years ago. He too had two children.

He was a very troubled when I met him.

He confessed to me that he was about to kill himself. You probably know that this bridge is famous for the number of people who ended their lives here.” said the old man.

“Yes I know, you have quite of interesting stories to tell but I’m very sorry, I have to go now.” said Huan Sen irritated.

“You look sad, are you sure everything is fine?” asked the old man

“Why do you care, my life is none of your business!” said angrily Huan Sen.

“I heard that many people these days get in heavy debt to go the opium den.” said the old man.

Huan Sen looked at he old man, he could see that his face was full of compassion.

An uncontrollable jolt of energy seized him. Huan Sen  cried profusely.

“My house is just around the corner, come to drink a tea with me, and tell me about your story” said the old man.

Huan Sen told the old man how desperate he was,  nothing could change his mind, He wanted to die.

“Do what you want to do, the only thing I will ask you, it’s to wait until tomorrow before you execute your plan. In the meantime, take this money for your family.” said the old man.

“Why do you do this, you don’t even know me” said Huan Sen.

“A long time ago I was as desperate as you.  

Someone helped me to go through this difficult period of my life, and now I tried to do the same for other people.  I will pray for your soul.” said the old man.

Huan Sen left the old man’s house like he was in a dream.

He went to his home. He gave the money to his wife. Tomorrow, he would muster more courage to end his life.

But a little voice in his heart told him to see the old man before doing something definitive.

The day after when he went to visit the old man,

he saw him practising kung fu with a great agility.

“Wow! you are in great shape for your age” said Huan Sen.

“I’m glad you have come back. What you saw is just about focus and discipline” said the old man.

“If you choose to live, I will give you more money to payback your debts, but in exchange you will have to work for me. the choice is yours.” added the old man.

“No, nothing can save me, some people are after me. Sooner or later, they will get me” said Huan Sen

“So you need to leave this city for a while, I can also help you with that.” said the old man.

“Everywhere I could go, they will find me, they have a very developed network of informants. For now, the persons I know can intervene to protect me but for I don’t know for how long.” said Huan Sen.

“I know a village in the mountains where you could be safe with your family. I have a house there, you can use it.” said the old man.

This proposition made Huan Sen think. If the old man was truthful and sincere, it could be the beginning of a solution for him.

Han Sen investigated the old man with his contacts in the administration.

It turned out that he was the heir of great landowner in a different part of the empire.

The day after having met the old man, Huan Sen explained to his wife that they were going to move immediately to the mountains because it was too dangerous to remain in the city.

She had no choice but to accept even though she was deeply saddened to leave the persons she had known all her life.

They decided to go just before dawn to avoid too much attention.

They went to the old man’s house. He provided a carriage for them.

It took five days to arrive in the village in the mountains.

Around two hundred people lived there, many of them were people that the old man helped.

When they arrived, the village head welcomed them.

He took Huan Sen aside.

“You need to get rid of the demon, after you could join your wife and children.” said the village head.

Huan Sen suffered severe withdrawal symptoms.

For two weeks, he drank a special tea.

He could only eat vegetables. He spent the first days screaming his pain in a secluded hut near the village.

When he felt better, they ordered him to meditate using prayers and visualizations specially designed for the addicts like him.

His boy and his girl complained because they did not understand why they had to live in small house in the mountain away from their friends.

Like everybody else, they had to work in the fields which provided the food they ate. They did not like it at all.

After his detoxification period, Huan Sen was allowed to return with his family.

Slowly, he started to recuperate his zest for life in the mountains. The fresh air was a great help.

With his administrative skills, Huan Sen reorganized the village to be run more efficiently.

He learned carpentry, fixing agriculture tools, and other competences the village needed.

His main project was to dig a new canal to irrigate the rice fields better.

He forgot the city life and its troubles completely.

Near the village there was waterfall where he used to go to reenergise.

Everything seemed to go smoothly for six months, when out the blue, the village was attacked by brigands who used to pillage the peasants of the region.

The brigands considered that it was a yearly tax that was due for them. Most people were fatalistic about the situation.

“There is nothing we can do, if we don’t give them what they want, they are ready to even kill some of us.” said the village head.

Huan Sen loved the place, for him this could not go on any longer.

He proposed the village head to elaborate a plan to organize the resistance.

But the villagers were totally afraid to rebel.

One month later, the brigands came earlier than expected, this time one them raped a young woman. When they left, they laughed.

The villagers were completely outraged, and they decided that it was finally time to fight back.

Huan Sen convinced them that they had to set up trap to lure the brigands into it.

The villagers trained for two weeks to learn the rudiments of the art of war.

They transformed their tools into weapons.

When the brigands came back, the village seemed empty.

They found this strange. They were on their guard.

Suddenly, the windows opened. A swarm of arrows overwhelmed the brigands.

The villagers captured the survivors.

They put them on their horses with boards around their necks saying that the next time they would try to come, it would be worse.

The level of fear was even greater among the villagers because there was no turning back this time.

But they were determined, It was better to die fighting than to accept their previous plight.

It was decided that all the women and children would be send to safety somewhere in the mountains.

Booby traps were placed all around the village.

The best snipers were given the two riffles they had.

The brigands arrived at night, they were strong of forty men. Huan Sen who was one of the sniper deliberately aimed at the chief of the brigands that the village head indicated him.

With all the booby traps in place, it was a carnage.  Huan Sen managed to injure and to catch their chief

“The next time you come, I will kill you.” said Huan sen

The chief of the brigands saw that Huan Sen was serious and determined.

Huan Sen let him go.

After this episode the chief of the brigands thought that the village was not worth the trouble.

One month later, the old man showed up in the village. He was amazed by Huan Sen’s transformation

“I can see that you have done a great job.

They told me the way you dealt with brigands was exceptional.” said the old man.

“I love the people here it’s an honour to serve them.” said the old man

“I have to show you something” said the old man.

“It’s a pardon decree from the prefect. With the information you gave me, they arrested many people.

Huan Sen was overwhelmed by the news.

He went to bed early.

He woke up with the first rays of light.

He walked alongside the canal to start his day of work. He looked at the dew on the vegetation.

Never it had been so vibrant and luminous.

When he was an addict, he did not find the time to appreciate how wonderful and precious life was.