#yes i know the alan song is two songs bUT he played them together on 'performing price' and it sounds sooooo good

[hide-your-bugs-away]

🎶✨️when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)🎶✨️

thank you for the tag @unchaineddaisychain eeee yOU ARE THE COOLEST 🙏

You're Telling Me/Is There Anybody Out There? - Alan Price

Love Is For All Time - The Animals

I Believe To My Soul - The Animals

Work Song - Georgie Fame

Kicks - Paul Revere and the Raiders

tagging: @tealightwhimsy @dilfstaine @hilton-my-luvx @haileylovestheanimals1964 @quinnallerton

[pandasmagorica]

Memory reach: Comrades: Almost A Love Story

OK, flying by the seat of my pants here, working on pure memory. I am one of those lucky people who knew what Jim was talking about when, in Moonlight Chicken, he told Wen about the movie Comrades: Almost a Love Story. I saw that movie many years ago here in San Francisco, either at a film festival or at one of the three theaters, alas, long gone, which used to show movies from Hong Kong. It's a great movie. I remember it in particular as the movie that showed me that Lai Ming (namesake of Li Ming in Moonlight Chicken) could act; before that, I had not been impressed by his acting abilities (although I'm not sure where I might have gotten that impression, as I can't seem to be able to figure out which of his earlier films I might have seen, so it may have been a false memory even at that time). But it really is a great movie and worth hunting down. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be available on any of my current streaming services.

(Edit: Worldcat lists Comrades' availability in various editions.)

So yes, having to go on a memory of a movie I probably saw about 25 years ago as well as the description on MDL. I've reconstructed my memory about it from two important real world events which happened during the course of the movie: the 1987 closure of the Hong Kong Stock Exchange for four days and the 1995 death of Teresa Teng. Please forgive me for errors of fact in describing the movie.

I also suggest reading @telomeke's post on the connection between Comrades: Almost A Love Story and Moonlight Chicken and @waitmyturtles' post on the same subject, as they will likely be much more coherent than my post which follows. Nevertheless, I am thinking about that movie, want to discuss it here, and will plunge forward with my two Hong Kong cents.

Basically, it's about a long time flirtation between two people who meet after emigrating from mainland China to Hong Kong around 1985 or 1986. Qiao, played by Maggie Cheung - who does a great job as well, and always has yes - knows Cantonese, the language of Hong Kong, and is a bit of a schemer. Jun, played by Lai Ming, is a bit simpler and speaks Mandarin. After Qiao's attempt to cheat Jun, they somehow wind up attracted to each other. However, Jun has a fiancé back in China and Qiao falls in with a mob boss, so although – if I recall correctly – they do have an affair, they never fully connect or wind up with each other. Not sure the exact sequence, but at some point in the film the 1987 stock exchange debacle happens and Qiao is wiped out financially. Possibly that is the trigger for her winding up with the mob boss. And Jun marries his fiancé. I think. Again, my memory of the film is hazy.

Full disclosure: Although I have long known and like the song which opens every Moonlight Chicken episode, I am not a Teresa Teng fan and don't recall that aspect of Comrades beyond: the one scene that I will mention in the forthcoming spoilers, and that the Cantonese title of the film is a title of one of her songs.

The theme of the film seems to be that even that if people might be right for each other, the time may not be right for them to be together. Jim echoes this explicitly in his dialogue with Wen in Moonlight Chicken.

Although the focus of this post is the movie and not the series, I do want to give a side prop to Khaotung for being willing to be caught on screen singing that song badly. This goes hand-in-hand with Ohm's destruction of If You Don't Love Her You're Crazy in that bar scene in He's Coming to Me, another Khun Aof series.

Before we get to the spoilers, another Maggie Cheung film I can recommend is Alan and Eric: Between Hello and Goodbye. Warning: it's a weepie. I've also seen her in Days of Being Wild and Behind the Yellow Line but I don't find it either of those films particularly memorable.

Spoilers follow

Back to the movie:

Flash forward 10 years. Both of them wind up in New York City, both now single, still separate and unaware that the other is not far away. Qiao is picked up by immigration authories but escapes. She winds up in front of an appliance store with a window full of televisions. A news story is playing about the death of Teresa Teng. She turns, and also watching the story is Jun. They recognize each other and smile. End of scene.

The film then flashes back to one of them arriving in Hong Kong on the train from China. They get off the train in one direction. The camera pulls back and we see the other one get off the train in the other direction.

So the film is kind of a variation on the idea of people who are destined to meet. In this case they meet very quickly, but just can't manage to be together because the timing is wrong. We don't even know whether they get together this time because the film has cut away. We hope they'll succeed this time, but technically it's an open ending.

It is truly a beautiful film and I recommend tracking it down and watching it if you can.

While there are some parallels between Comrades and Moonlight Chicken, an open ending is not one of them. Please don't let the potentially ambiguous ending stop you from watching Comrades.

[fangirl94stuff]

Aaron Pauley (OM&M)

'Hey guys, where's Alan?' you ask, entering the studio where the band were messing around.

Aaron looks up from his phone as you sit yourself down on his lap and he smiles, 'hey beautiful, replacing me with the ginger princess?'

'Oh Aaron no one will ever replace you silly,' you laugh and slap his chest.

Aaron shakes his head and goes back to his phone, while you lean your head on his shoulder. The two of you had been super close since alan introduced you to the band six years ago.

'He told me he's working on a song y/n,' Tino pipes up from across the room.

You furrow your eyebrows, 'I thought the album was finished.'

'It is, but Alan wanted to get something off his chest,' Phil says, from the chair next to the sofa you and Aaron occupied.

You start to play with Aaron's hair, 'do you think it's about a girl he likes? he has been spending a lot of time at that coffee shop.'

Aaron pats your knee, 'this could be good for him to get his feelings out in the open.'

Did it annoy you slightly that alan might get a girlfriend before you got a boyfriend, yes it did but it wasn't like you hadn't tried over the years. Aaron had become your person and you his, you had no boundaries and everything was on the table. After every bad date, you called one another and moaned about how the date couldn't be like either of you. No wonder Alan always joked that the two of you were perfect for one another, maybe he was jealous and needed you to give him more attention.

'Hey guys, I have something to say,' Alan calls out, entering the studio holding an acoustic guitar.

'No judgement from any of us, speak your mind,' Aaron says, putting his phone down and carefully readjusting you on his lap.

Alan rolls his eyes and sits down, 'I wrote a song about a boy and a girl who are perfect for one another, everyone wants them to be together but they are blind to their feelings towards one another--'

'If this girl can't see how perfect you are Alan I'm sure you'll find someone else, right Aaron,' you say, cutting off Alan.

Alan stares at you stunned, 'this song isn't about me and the girl from the coffee shop y/n, it's about you and Aaron.'

'What about me and y/n?' Aaron asks.

Tino sighs loudly, 'y/n, describe your perfect guy.'

You point at Aaron and smile, 'Aaron.'

'And Aaron now you describe your perfect girl,' Phil speaks up.

Was this a bit between the three of them or something?

Aaron pats your leg, 'easy, it's y/n.'

'So why aren't you two together? Everyone already thinks you are with how touchy-feely you are around one another,' Alan says calmly.

You and Aaron lock eyes, and after a few seconds it hits both of you and your eyes widen in sync, 'do you like me like me?' you both question in unison.

'Creepy,' Alan and Tino say together.

'Kind of cute,' Phil joins in.

Everything clicked into place, you couldn't be happy with anyone else because you always ended up comparing them to Aaron, the two of you really were clueless.

You blush, 'do you think we should give us a shot Aaron?'

He nods, 'I think we should y/n, we know everything about one another, this could be perfect.'

Before you can stop yourself, you find yourself kissing Aaron on the lips and it felt right, while around you Alan, Tino and Phil gagged.

'My eyes...my precious eyes...' Alan says overdramatically.

You pull back from the kiss and Aaron smirks, 'my turn,' and he goes in for round two.

'Our eyes...our precious eyes...' Phil and Tino moan.

And that's how you and Aaron started dating. the rest of the guys made up a no kissing in front of them rule, but you and Aaron liked watching them squirm and reminding them that they made this happen.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

You’re The Reason | Eric Matthews

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Requested: Yes/No

A/N: My first Boy Meets World fic! Gah! I hope you like this! Couldn’t stay away from the JATP boys though, so it’s kinda like a JATP x BMW crossover... Lemme know what you think! 

Pairing: Eric x Fem!Reader

Song(s) used: none

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, party

Words: 4,028

Eric Matthews. The goofy, charming oldest boy of Alan and Amy. My best friend since forever. Our parents always told us the story about how we met in the sandbox in Kindergarten. I was building sandcastles when Jason, Eric’s first best friend, came to ruin them. Eric, being the charmer he always had been, told Jason off and pushed him out of the sandbox before helping me rebuild my sand castle. Ever since that day, the two of us had been the best of friends. 

We did everything together. Everything from play dates to eating ice cream to going to middle school and eventually high school. Though we never graduated together as my parents had to move when I was 16. We moved to Los Angeles and never returned to Philadelphia. Eric and I were so torn. We had promised we would keep in contact and the first few months were hard, but we eventually found a rhythm in our long-distance friendship. 

Every evening, we would call each other except for the weekends as those were date-weekends where both of us went out on dates. But come Sunday evening, we’d both be on the phone, telling the other what had happened during said dates. 

During summer vacation, Eric would come to L.A. to visit me or I’d go back to Philly, just so we could hang out together for a few days. Those had always been my favorite days. We’d reconnect and find that spark again we always used to have, which, in its turn, brought us closer and made the next few months a little less hard when all we could hear was each other’s voice. 

Last summer, however, I realized that I’d rather kiss those beautiful pink lips than stare at them as he talked about yet another girl he took out over the weekend and made out with. It stung, to say the least, but I couldn’t tell him how I felt. We were miles apart from one another, it would just hurt more. 

Though what hurt even worse was when Eric called me one time in the middle of the night, crying. Confused and worried, I listened to him as he let everything he was feeling out of his system. 

“Mister Feeny is retiring, Cory’s going to college and eloped with Topanga tonight and I just– everything’s changing and I don’t know what to do about it. I wanna stop time and just go back to the way things were. All of us in high school, Cory and Topanga fighting over God-knows-what or Shawn and Cory getting into even more trouble. And you… Not miles away from me…” 

I choked back tears as I listened to him. He sounded so broken, so lost. I wished I could just hold him and let him cry as he spoke about how he felt. I wished I was in Philadelphia instead of Los Feliz, a place I didn’t quite belong. 

“I’m sorry, Eric, I wish I could make things better for you…” I said, my voice just above a whisper, afraid I would cry if I spoke any louder. 

Eric sighed on the other side of the line. “Why don’t you just– come home? Study at Pennbrook with me?” I stuttered and stumbled over my words, unsure what to say to him. 

It wasn’t like I thought about it. I’m an adult, I could change my whole life around and move back to Philadelphia. Back to Eric. But while that sounded all beautiful and wonderful and like a dream come true, I couldn’t just drop everything here. I had my new friends, a college degree I needed to finish. 

“Come on, babe. You know you want to…” Eric pleaded, knowing all-too-well what was going on in my mind right now even though he couldn’t see me. “I know I want you to.” 

I heaved in a deep breath. “I can’t, Eric… I gotta finish my degree here. I gotta–” Just as I wanted to continue summing up reasons as to why I wouldn’t be able to go back to him, four guys I knew like the back of my hand entered my dorm and jumped onto my bed. I didn’t even need to see who it was to know who it was. “Guys– I’m on the phone here,” I scolded them as the floppy-haired guy gave me his best smoulder. “Lukas, no.” 

“It’s alright, y/n,” I heard Eric say, though I could tell it wasn’t actually okay. “You go back to your friends. You stay put. Okay? Whatever makes you happiest.” 

“But you make me h–” Before I could even finish my sentence, Eric had hung up the phone. “Happiest…” I mumbled before placing the horn back on the receiver. 

“You okay?” the  blonde guy I knew best as Alex Mercer asked me solemnly. 

I pressed my lips together. “No– not really…” 

Luke wrapped his arms around my waist and snuggled into my neck while Reggie sat on the end of my bed with his legs crossed. “I think you ought to go visit him,” he said. 

“What?”

“No, seriously. You miss him, he misses you and you clearly need each other right now. Go back to Philly, y/n. Even if it’s just for the weekend.” For once, Reggie actually spoke some sense. 

“Yeah, I mean, you clearly miss each other and you need each other right now. And maybe, whilst you’re there, you can figure out whether you’d wanna move back to Philly or come back to us,” Alex added. 

I had met Luke, Reggie, Alex and Bobby during orientation day, along with Rose, my roommate. There hadn’t been a day where we didn’t spend time together. All six of us were sewn to the hip. Wherever one went, the others went too. A lot of people called Rose and I their groupies as the four of them had started a band way back in high school. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say those four were actually married to one another. 

But to be fair, Alex and Reggie were speaking some truth now. I did miss Eric. I missed him tremendously. And maybe, once there, I could see that Los Angeles was truly where I belonged or if I should stay in Philadelphia with Eric… It was the ultimate life test. 

I heaved in a deep breath before lifting my hand to ring the doorbell at apartment 3E. Nerves bunched in the pit of my stomach and my hands were getting clammy. I wasn’t even sure if Eric was home. I wasn’t even sure if coming over was such a splendid idea. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. 

Even less so when a tall fiery red-haired girl opened up the door. My throat dried up for a second. Did I get the wrong apartment? Eric hadn’t told me about a girl roommate or anything. All I knew was that he lived with Jack and Shawn. Though I figured since Shawn had gotten into Pennbrook too, he might’ve moved into a dorm with Cory. 

“Hi, can I–” the girl stopped in her tracks as she let her eyes glide over me. “You’re y/n, aren’t you?” Her lips curled up into a smile. “Eric has told me so much about you!” 

The nerves in my stomach made room for fluttery butterflies. Eric talked about me. Even to girls as pretty as this one. Knowing Eric the way I do, I didn’t think he ever would. ‘Girl repellant’ he’d call it. 

“Uhm… Yeah… I wanted to surprise him… Is he here?” 

The girl chuckled. “Believe it or not, but he’s actually in class right now.” 

“Eric? In class?” 

She nodded her head, her lips curling up into a smirk. “I’m heading to campus now, you wanna come? His class is almost over.” 

It definitely beat sitting here, waiting for him. 

“Sure,” I replied and the girl quickly went to grab her stuff before walking out and guiding me towards the elevator again. 

“I’m Rachel, by the way. I just moved in a couple days ago,” she said while pushing the button to call the elevator. 

Rachel. Roommate Rachel. She was definitely Eric’s type… A girl. 

“Eric hasn’t told me about you yet. For a second, I thought I was at the wrong apartment,” I said, chuckling a little. 

Rachel and I got into the elevator and she told me about how she wound up living with Jack and Eric. I had to admit to myself that I was only slightly jealous of the moves the two boys had made on her. Not that I cared about Jack hitting on Rachel, but I did care about Eric doing it. 

The red-haired fury led me towards campus and we talked all the way there. Mostly about Eric. She asked me questions about our childhood and I told her every single story about him. It wasn’t hard talking about Eric. Everything we went through together flowed out of me like a waterfall. A waterfall of Eric-filled stories. 

“Oh, look. He’s at the Student Union, as predicted,” Rachel said, pointing towards where Eric, Jack, Shawn and Cory were seated on the sofas, sipping coffee. 

A smile involuntarily crept its way up to my face. Eric Matthews. Seeing him now made my heart beat faster and my stomach fill up with all sorts of butterflies. My LA boys were right. I did miss him tremendously. 

“Come on, let’s go say hi!” Rachel urged, pulling me along by my wrist. 

“Don’t you have a class to go to?” 

She shook her red mane. “I’d rather see this beautiful reunion,” she said. 

Cory was the first one who met my eyes. His laughter made room for confusion to then turn into delight. “Y/N?” he exclaimed, causing everyone’s head to turn my way before he got up to embrace me. Jack and Shawn hugged me next and when I turned to Eric, he was still seated on the couch with his cup of coffee halfway to his lips. 

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked. 

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear nervously. “What? Aren’t you happy to see me?” 

His wide eyes turned back to normal and as he put his cup on the coffee table in front of him, he blabbed while getting up to hug me. “Wha– of course I’m happy to see you, y/n. I just didn’t expect you to come? Don’t you have classes and stuff?”  

I inhaled the familiar scent of Eric Matthews. As my senses filled up with him, my nerves finally calmed down. I was home. 

“I wanted to surprise you…” 

His hands cupped my face as he regarded me. He inspected every inch of my face as if to see if I was complete and really there. “And surprised I am,” he whispered. 

Shawn handed me a cup of coffee as we all settled back onto the couch. They asked me questions about LA and about college in LA, and I answered each and every one of them. It felt good being with this gang again. It was like coming back home. 

Eric took me everywhere that weekend. Friday night, we went to Chubbie’s. On Saturday, he took me back home where I reacquainted with Alan and Amy, and we spent some time with Morgan. 

Now it was Saturday night and we were all at the club for a good party. I was three drinks in and chatting with Rachel at the bar. I had grown close to her over the two days I had been here. Just like Rose, she always knew exactly what to say. And she listened. She listened to all my sorrows and worries. She really listened. 

“I think you’re in love with Eric,” she stated before taking a swig of her beer. 

“What? No! I–” She raised an eyebrow at me. “I am in love with Eric…” 

She let out a cackle. “Ha! I knew it!” 

“I can’t act up on my feelings though, Rachel. We live miles apart. Being friends is already hard enough, I don’t even wanna know what being a couple would do to us. If Eric would reciprocate my feelings, that is.” 

“Would you believe me if I told you Eric is in love with you too?” 

“No.” 

“Well, he is! The way his eyes light up when he talks about you… It’s pure love. Sure, he can be a bit daft and he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but when he talks about you, he almost becomes poetic.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” I said and sipped from my beer again. 

Rachel shook her head at me. “See for yourself.” She pointed somewhere behind me and the second I turned around, Eric was in front of me with those big, sparkly eyes of his and that goofy smile I’d come to love. 

“Dance with me, baby!” he shouted and pulled me along to the dance floor. As I looked back at Rachel, she gave me a knowing look. She wasn’t right. She couldn’t be. 

“I need you to stay,” he slurred, clearly having drank one too many beers. “Please, can’t you stay?” 

“Eric,” I sighed, “You know I can’t. I’ve got –” 

“A degree to finish and friends to go back to, I know, I know…” 

I pressed my lips together in a thin line as I watched him. He was still moving, swaying from side to side to the music, but there was a lot less enthusiasm behind than before we started talking. 

“Hey,” I started and placed my hands on his shoulders. “You know I would stay if I could, right? I just – I can’t, Eric.” 

“Yes, you can, y/n. You can stay here, transfer to Pennbrook, live with me and Jack and Rachel. Be here. With me.” 

His offer sounded alluring. A little too alluring. The alcohol coursing in my veins almost made me say ‘yes’, but the sober part of me knew that wouldn’t be a good idea. “I need a better reason than that, Eric.”

“I’ve got more reasons for you to stay.” 

“Gimme one.” 

Before I could properly process what was happening, Eric grabbed my face and pressed his lips to mine in a deep kiss. As we pulled apart for a moment, I had to take a breather and process what had just happened. 

“That’s a good reason,” I whispered before kissing him again. 

I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that we’d actually wanted to do that for a long time, but the rest of the night we spent together, making out in a corner of the club until Rachel and Jack pulled us apart and brought us back to the apartment. Eric and I fell asleep together on the couch, cuddled up. The place where I’d wanted to fall asleep for months now. The place where I belonged.

It felt weird waking up in his arms. Not that we hadn’t done that before, but the events that preceded it were new. I hadn’t ever been kissed the way Eric had kissed me last night. It was with so much passion and love that filled up all my senses, that sobered me up almost straight away. 

Though, when he woke, it was like nothing happened. 

He didn’t speak about it, and changed the subject whenever I tried to. I didn’t know what had gone wrong. It was probably a mistake on his part. He probably didn’t want to kiss me. It was probably the alcohol speaking and not his heart. He didn’t love me the same way I loved him. 

It was all a mistake. 

“How was your night?” Alan asked playfully when we entered the Matthews’ kitchen for lunch on Sunday. 

“Good! We had fun,” I replied and glanced over at Eric. He had jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he moved over towards the fridge. 

“It was okay,” he spoke and shoved a knife right through my chest. 

I had no clue what I had done wrong or what had gone wrong. All I knew was that Eric was giving me the cold shoulder. The kiss must’ve been a mistake. It must’ve been something he didn’t even want to do and it was just the alcohol taking over. And now it had ruined our entire friendship. 

“When’s your flight back home?” Amy queried. 

I placed my knife and fork down as I had just finished the delicious lunch Amy had made all of us. “Tonight at eight,” I responded with a nervous smile. My stomach churned when I felt Eric tense up next to me. 

“Back to Northridge then, huh? Must be a big change going from cold Philadelphia back to warm and sunny LA,” Alan said with a smile and I nodded my head. 

“It’s gonna be quite the di–” before I could finish my sentence, Eric had shoved his chair back and without uttering a word, he stormed out of the kitchen. I could feel my heart break in my chest. He seemed angry. Frustrated. All of the things I didn’t want him to be before I went back to LA.

“I’ll go check on him,” I said and carefully slid my chair back before following Eric outside. 

He sat on the cushioned bench where we have had many a talk before as the sun set and the stars appeared into the sky. Though right now, it seemed awfully dark and gloomy. Nothing like what it used to feel like. 

“Eric, are you okay?” I plopped down next to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. 

He scoffed. “No, I’m not okay. You know, I didn’t ask you to come here. I didn’t ask you to visit me. I didn’t ask and so I couldn’t prepare for you to leave… Again.” 

“Eric, I’m sorry. I thought it would be nice to surprise you. I–” I stopped talking as soon as he shot up from the bench and took a few steps away from me. He looked angry and sad at the same time and it broke my heart even further. 

“Don’t you know how much it kills me to see you go every time? But at least in the summer, I can prep myself for the goodbye that’s about to follow. I can prep myself for the heartache and now that I didn’t see it coming, I’m not ready for you to go.” 

I opened my mouth to say something else, but before I could, he gave me another glare and then stormed off to God-knows-where. I couldn’t move. I was frozen to the bench. My best friend just yelled at me and ran off. I didn’t even say goodbye to him. 

“Miss y/l/n, what a surprise,” a familiar voice sounded, causing me to snap my head towards the older man that stood in the next-door garden on the other side of the white fence. 

I smiled at him, but I knew it wasn’t genuine and I knew he knew it wasn’t. “Hey Mister Feeny.” 

“Are you okay?” he asked and opened the small gate. He made a beeline towards me and sat down on the bench next to me. 

I heaved in a deep breath, breathing in the familiarity of my old teacher. “No, I –” I mulled over my words. “I missed Eric, so I came to surprise him but I think it might’ve not been such a good idea.” 

“Why not?”

“‘Cause now he’s mad at me because he couldn’t prepare himself for me leaving…” I mumbled, focusing on the rings on my fingers as I twisted them around and around. “I don’t know what to do, Mister Feeny. I wanna stay with Eric, but I’ve got a life in LA. I’ve got friends and I’ve got Northridge and my family still lives there too…” 

I looked up to see my favorite teacher regard me with such a tender and familiar look. He felt sorry for me and I also knew there was a  pep-talk coming in a few seconds. Though at that moment, I wasn’t sure if I was in the mood for that pep-talk. 

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Miss Lawrence when she came to me with her dilemma,” he started wistfully, the only way Mister Feeny ever spoke. “You stay at Northridge unless you have a good reason not to.” 

My mind immediately went to last night’s events when Eric kissed me after he told me he had reasons for me to stay. If I had a reason, it would be Eric. Eric would be the one and only reason for me to move back to Philadelphia and I couldn’t lie when I said Eric weighs out every other reason I had for going back to LA. 

“I think you know what to do, Miss y/l/n,” he said before placing a comforting hand on my shoulder and getting up again. 

“Hey, Mister Feeny,” he stopped halfway to his house. “You’re a good teacher, you know that?” The genuine and heartwarming smile that curled Feeny’s lips upwards made me feel nostalgic. I had missed that man. 

“Thank you, Miss y/l/n. And you’re a good student.” 

As Mister Feeny returned to his home, I couldn’t help but think everything over. Every thought, every moment of the past weekend seeped back into my mind. There was only one way to stop my thoughts and I knew exactly what it was.  

“Y/N?” His voice caused me to snap out of my thoughts. There he was. Finally. “What are you still doing here?” he asked, visibly getting nervous. “I thought you’d gone home?” 

 I patted the spot next to me on the cushioned bench. Eric hesitantly took the spot, but I could tell he was tense and didn’t quite know what to do. He didn’t look at me and his hands fiddled around in his lap. 

“I am home.” 

Now he looked up at me. Confusion was written all over his face, a look I had seen on him before. The reminder of everything I ever told him that confused him made me giggle a little. 

“What do you mean? Don’t you have to get back to LA? Back home?” He turned his face back to the sky. It was starting to get dark out and the stars above us were starting to make an appearance, along with the bright moon. 

“I talked to Feeny and he told me that I should go back to Northridge…” I watched Eric’s jaw clench. “Unless I had a good reason not to.” 

He turned his head to face me again. “Is there a good reason?” 

I sighed. “I thought about it. I’ve got reasons to go back. Like my degree and my friends out there, my family…” Eric slowly nodded his head and I knew his mind was already preparing him for me to say I was going to go back. “But there’s one reason that makes me wanna stay here. One reason that outweighs all the other reasons.”

“And what’s that?” 

A soft smile befell my lips as I leaned in and cautiously pressed my lips to his. Last night’s memories seeped back into my mind. 

“You’re the reason, Eric Matthews.” 

He smiled as his eyes darted from mine to my lips and back before he fully kissed me on the lips. I couldn’t help but giggle before melting completely into the kiss, into him. After years of being best friends and months of pining for him, I was finally kissing my best friend. I had finally given into my feelings. 

And I was making the right decision. I knew that now. I knew that moving back to Philadelphia would be the right choice. I would be moving back home. Back with Eric. Close to Cory and Shawn and Jack and Topanga. All of my friends from when we were younger. Home. 

The only thing left to do now was break the news to my friends in LA… 

But that was a problem for later. 

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[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

I've heard of Snape/Hermione and Snape/Harry. What's your opinion about them? Why do people ship this? How did it even get in their heads? Not HATING, per se, just really really REALLY confused.

Personally, like I do with all things, I hate it.

But why I hate it and the reason other people like it are two entirely different things. Well, three entirely different things, maybe four.

So, with that, let’s begin.

Why Do People Ship Snape With Anybody?

So, what’s the deal with Snape? In the books he’s a petty man-child who spends his days tormenting children, acting as Dumbledore’s janitor, and lives a meaningless life with a nearly meaningless death. 

However, remember, this isn’t quite who he’s supposed to be.

JKR presents him as a tormented and complicated man. Yes, he’s an asshole unreasonably bitter against the existence of a child, who when turning traitor to Dumbledore made it very clear he hoped James and Harry would die and Lily alone would be spared. However, ultimately Harry not only forgives him, but decides that Snape was secretly the bravest man he knows.

This is ingredient one: Snape is a complicated and tragic man who lived a miserable life.

Ingredient two: Snape is played by Alan Rickman in the film franchise.

Sure, they gave Alan Rickman the worst hair in the world, it’s not young Alan Rickman, and he acts like Snape. But he’s still Alan Rickman and he oozes charisma. He can’t help it. And while the Snape of the books was this gangly, greasy, bat like figure the movie version is not. When he speaks, you can’t help but listen to that voice. What I mean is you take Snape seriously in every moment. Even when he’s... Snape.

Ingredient three: Snape is one of the smartest characters in the series.

Harry Potter is a series filled with idiots, each one dumber than the last. Ask me to list powerful characters, I can only come up with eight, and really only three (one that I made up). 

Snape, however, is a smart guy and is one of the only competent people in the country. This is why both Dumbledore and Voldemort rely on the same man exclusively who they know is a double agent. There is no one else.

It’s either him or you have to turn to Molly Weasley and Bellatrix.

Ingredient four: He was tragically dumped and angsts over this until he dies

Lily drops Snape like it’s hot. Personally, I agree with her, given what he said she absolutely had to cut ties. Many don’t and are very sympathetic to Snape. Or else they believe Snape has learned from his mistakes later (which.... probably not). 

Regardless, Lily Evans moving on to greener pastures makes Snape sad and miserable. He was dumped by the hot chick, IF I DATED THIS MAN I WOULD NEVER DUMP HIM AND MAKE HIM SAD! 

All of this combines into making Snape into the same tragic figure we see in Tyrion from “A Song of Ice and Fire”.

He’s very intelligent but utterly miserable, a true blue cynic, who (when fans put their mind to it) has a heart of gold underneath and all he needs is someone who can see how wonderful he is.

The difference being that fans make Snape sexy. No, seriously, I have read Hermione/Snape fics where she gushes about how amazing his hair is. I guess Hermione likes that grease (this is the sound of me shuddering).

Why Do People Ship Hermione and Snape?

This is a very common pairing archetype. It’s our strong, smart, female lead protagonist getting with the older, bitter, intellectual. They appreciate each other’s brilliance and have a Mature and Adult Relationship (TM) and remind the audience at every turn how they’re far more intellectual than the likes of Harry, Ron, and us readers.

They get together inventing some spell or some potion.

Snape discovers that Hermione actually is brilliant and not just a know-it-all brat. Hermione discovers that Snape has unfound depths because he was once dumped by Harry’s mother.

... I just explained why I hate it.

RIGHT.

People like it because it’s very.. Well, it’s Pride and Prejudice. This is very Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. She’s prejudiced, he’s proud, they circle around each other for a long time until they finally wind up together.

When it’s not that usually there’s some political mind games, the sort of thing you see in Dramione, The difference being usually this author thinks that Draco is what he actually is the books: a racist Richie Rich who goes around whining about his father. So, Snape becomes an older, more cynical, more complicated, and more sophisticated male lead instead.

The author usually makes some excuse about how it’s okay for Snape to have sex with his student. Either Hermione’s older now and it’s no longer an issue or... magic demands he marry a sixteen-year-old girl (seriously, I’ve seen this too). 

Why Do People Ship Harry and Snape?

Rather than the two intellectuals getting together this is instead the Goodness of Harry (TM). Harry makes up for his mother’s flaws, he forgives and dates Snape and surpasses his shallow parents. Snape is awed and amazed by this boy he had brushed off as his father’s son, realizes Harry is his own person, and is desperately in love with him.

It’s a... sweet story. It’s about love, the goodness of Harry, and Snape learning how not to be a miserable bastard.

Of course, given my opinions on Harry, you know where I stand. Harry in canon is more likely to have murdered Snape himself in any given year of Hogwarts and asked Hermione to help him hide the body. They probably feed the dismembered limbs to Fang.

As for Snape, he loathes Harry’s entire existence. Harry being a douchebag like his father certainly doesn’t help, but just for having survived in Lily Evans’ place Snape would have loathed him entirely.

That, and Snape/Harry fics usually get weird with the surreal fluff and mpreg. So much mpreg.

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

But the Way That You Act Isn’t Good for Your Health

AO3 link here

Summary: Once upon a time, Alex's parents were cool. They cared deeply about him and his friends. Once upon a time, Alex hadn’t come out yet. OR Five times Alex’s parents were there for him and his friends, and the one time they weren’t.

Warnings: Homophobia, swearing, mention of conversion therapy

Words: 3,899

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1. 

Alex's stomach twisted and his fingers twisted into the hem of his shirt, tugging and pulling at it like it was a lifeline. The yelling outside continued. Beside him Luke patted his arm, his nine year-old face screwed up in concern for his friend. On his other side sat Reggie, leaning close and fidgeting with Alex's free hand. He was solemn too, but in a different way than Luke, closer to Alex's anxious tap-dancing heart.

Alex's chin jerked up as his dad opened the driver's seat door and stepped in, and he subconsciously tightened his grip on Reggie's hand.

"What's going on?" He asked, when his mom finally got in as well. It was supposed to be a fun outing for the boys; The day was warm and the beach was open, and the three nine year-old boys were tired of being cooped up inside. He stopped twisting at his shirt and his fingers moved to tapping at his leg when his parents shared a look. 

Reggie pressed closer to his side, and Luke did his best to put his arm around them both.

"I've got you," He said gravely, his soft voice offset by the slight whistle caused by the gap left behind where a top tooth had once lived.

Alex's parents finished their silent conversation and Mary, Alex's mom, turned to face them.

"Sometimes people get angry and don't act well, but that doesn't mean it's right, okay? That man out there is one of those people right now, so you boys and I are going to stay in the car for a little bit while Mr. Mercer gets out and makes sure the man doesn't hurt that young lady, that sound good?"

Alex nodded and his breathing evened a little bit. The yelling was scary, but he knew his dad could handle it, his dad was the strongest man in the whole world.

Reaching across the console, Mr. Mercer gave Mrs. Mercer's hand a light squeeze.

"I'll be alright, Mary." Alex's mom gave a soft smile and nodded, but the crinkle in her brow stayed in its place.

"I know Paul, I love you." A quick kiss was pressed to her knuckles and then he was out of the car, the door closed behind him.

The three boys waited with bated breath as the shouting paused, started up again and then stopped abruptly. There was a low discussion, and even through the car Alex could tell the words were angry. He took Reggie's small hands in his own -he knew how his friend got when people yelled- and rubbed it with his thumb. Reggie gave him an appreciative smile, and Alex smiled back, glad that the action had helped calm them both down. A man rushed past the front of the car, pausing a moment to aim a kick at it before running off, swearing profusely. The three boys jolted and Mary's hand flew to her mouth with a gasp, but he didn't come back and they relaxed a fraction.

After another minute, Mr. Mercer returned to the car, slipping into the driver's seat silently and sitting there for a long moment. Finally he moved, putting the car in reverse and getting ready to pull out, then stopped abruptly. He turned to the backseat, studying the boys' faces.

"Boys?"

"Yes, Mr. Mercer?" they responded in unison.

"Always respect women. Treat them decent and keep them safe, okay? And the same goes for you, if someone isn't treating you right, get out of there, you deserve to be safe." The boys shared wide-eyed glances as Mr. Mercer started pulling out again, but they nodded anyway.

It took a long time for the boys to start talking again, but eventually the silence was broken by Luke, who elbowed Alex in the ribs.

"I think your dad is a superhero, 'Lex."

Alex thought of the girl his dad had protected, her face shiny with tears when he had managed to twist around in his seat to look, shiny but relieved, and he agreed. His dad was a superhero.

~~

2.

"Hey 'Lex? Is it... Is it okay if I come over to your house for a sleepover? Bobby can't and Luke-" Alex was already asking his mom before Reggie even finished his stumbling words, his voice tinny through the Mercer family's Nokia, knowing after a few years of friendship that his voice only wobbled on days where it was too much for him to be alone.

(Alone with two people. Two people who never stopped fighting for long except to criticize the kid that did everything to make them happy. Everything except be enough, apparently. Alex sometimes wished it was okay to want people to go to hell, but Reggie didn't want that, and his mom said that was bad... Still, Alex was Not a Fan of the Peters’ parents.)

And if Bobby wasn't available...

Bobby had shown up about a year prior, and Reggie had immediately decided that he was going to be a part of their friend-group. To Bobby's credit, he seemed to be fond of Reggie, and that was a quick in to the group in Luke and Alex's book. After a while, Bobby grew to be the one Reggie went to when he needed someone, but couldn't handle being around everybody. He'd go over to Bobby's and all of the other boy's gruffness would melt at the sight of him, and Bobby would make it okay.

Bobby was Reggie’s go-to, but Reggie was coming to him, so Alex needed to be there for Reggie.

"Mom?" He waited patiently as she finished putting the casserole she had been preparing in the oven, her blonde hair shimmering and haloed in the evening light coming in through the kitchen windows, and he was reminded of the art of Mary, Jesus’ mother, and how a golden halo had adorned her head too. His mom brushed her hands off and peeked in the oven one last time before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and turning to face him, eyes smiling.

“What’s up, bug?”

“Can Reggie come over?” And then her eyes were softening even more, and for a moment Alex wondered if Mary was as kind as his mom. His mom who always made sure to give Reggie an extra hug, to praise Luke on his singing, and to press a kiss to Bobby’s head and laugh when he twisted away and pretended that he hated it, even though a smile tugged at his lips. His mom who always knew just how to cheer his friends up. Alex thought about it for a minute more and then decided no, his mom was the kindest and prettiest out of all the moms, even Jesus’.

“Of course he can, I’ll even make my special macaroni and cheese!” Alex’s mom gave a small grin and ushered Alex back out of the kitchen. “Now scooch! I’ve got to finish the casserole.”

He giggled and let Reggie know that he could stay, that it was gonna be okay, that Reggie could probably even bring over the guitar he was starting to learn how to play, and they could jam together. 

He glanced back at his mom, her hair still gold in the light, and grinned at her soft, tired, and slightly sad smile. She blew a kiss and tucked a strand of gold behind her ear, and then Alex was away again, cheering his friend up over the phone while he gathered some stuff for their sleepover.

~~

3.

Alex heaved a sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face; He had a terrible headache, and the way practice was going? He wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the band did too.

“Okay Luke, I get we want this perfect, but it’s hot and I have a headache, is there any way we could take a quick breather?” 

Luke, surprisingly, just gave a loose nod and flopped onto their couch, face in a weak scowl, more brought on by frustration at the music than any anger towards Alex. It had been a rough week at home for him, and in his mind their struggle with this song was probably one more confirmation that his mom was right, that his music was only dragging him and his friends down.

It tore Alex apart, to see Luke like that, so he slumped onto the space beside Luke, elbowing him slightly before relaxing into the cushion, making sure to “annoyingly” slouch against Luke. The couch was big enough for all four of them to squeeze together, and had taken three of them to carry it into the Mercer’s garage the day they had found it at some estate sale the summer before, and now it was a regular occurrence to find the boys gathered together, bodies tangled together haphazardly on the worn piece of furniture.

Soon, Bobby joined in, grumbling about how sweaty Luke was, but taking the time to ruffle his hair before settling in, patting the spot beside him for Reggie to take. Luke swatted at Bobby’s hand and rolled his eyes as he half-heartedly tried to shove Alex away, inevitably giving in to the crushing affection of his friends and sighing heavily.

They sat that way for a stretch, silence strung between them like unlit Christmas lights; Noticeable, and somehow liminal, waiting for something to flick them on. The thick air felt like an inverted weighted blanket, just as heavy but the direct opposite of comfortable, and Alex lazily found himself wondering if they should add Christmas lights to the garage.

“Alright, enough of the moping guys, we’ll get this!!” And then Luke was hopping up off the couch, so what if it was clear that the pep in his voice was fake? He turned back to the boys and swung his arms wide, “We just gotta take a short break and come back and whip this song.”

His smile was achingly wide (and painfully put-on) but Alex found himself smiling back. Luke might be a hardheaded dumbass sometimes, but they were still friends, and Alex wanted Luke to see that he wasn’t the failure he thought he was.

“Sure, because we were the ones moping,” Alex rolled his eyes and heaved himself up, tugging Reggie up behind him, and headed to the door, yelling back over his shoulder- 

“Last one into my parent’s kitchen gets the armchair!”

The rest of the boys launched after him, knowing the stakes of being forced to sit alone on the Mercer’s uncomfortable armchair versus being able to crowd together on their couch was more important than whatever claims of friendship came before. Bobby attempted to shove Luke behind him, only managing to allow Reggie to get a head start, and scuffled at the doorway, Luke pulling at his shirt and biting at his hand.

“No fair man, I was already farther away!!”

Alex only laughed, throwing open the door to his house and making a break for the couch as the other boys tumbled in after him.

“Hey mom!” He called out, “The boys are trying to kill m-” He was interrupted by a decorative pillow to the face and a crow of laughter from Luke as Reggie gave Bobby a high-five.

“Oh hi boys, I didn’t know you’d be coming in today! Reggie, it’s so nice to see you again, how’s your sister?” Mary Mercer walked in smiling from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. 

“And Luke!! I haven’t seen you in weeks besides creeping into our garage to play that marvelous music of yours. When do you plan on giving us a concert? I expect a friends and family discount of course,” She winked and gave a small chuckle.

“Paul and I have loved hearing you boys practice, and you’ve developed so much just this summer! Of course, I’ve always loved your music, but lyrically? Why, you’ve become a genius when it comes to lyrics. We’re so proud of you.”

She squeezed Bobby’s shoulder and gave him a fond smile before heading back to the kitchen.

“I made some sugar cookies and lemonade; I’d planned to bring it out to you boys, but since you’re inside now… Well, might as well enjoy the air conditioning.”

Luke, who had practically bloomed like a flower previously wilting, followed her into the kitchen, his smile now genuine and brighter than the sun itself, and the rest of the band followed.

~

“Say Mrs. Mercer, do you think we really could do a concert?”

The boys had sat down at the kitchen table, quickly downing most of the cookies, and Luke had taken the pause in eating to probe what Mrs. Mercer had said earlier. She stilled from where she stood at the sink and hesitated before turning to look at the boys with a gentle smile.

“Of course I do, Luke. Mr. Mercer and I have always admired your talents, and all of you boys are amazing musicians. I would love to see you build your skills even more, and I’m certain other people would adore your music.”

Alex watched as Luke grinned and tucked into another cookie, warmth filling his chest.

And later, when his mom pulled him aside and asked if Luke was doing alright, he pulled her into a tight hug and replied, “I’m pretty sure he’s doing a lot better, thanks to you.”

~~

4.

Alex wasn’t sure what to think when his chest started tightening and his breathing became erratic and painful. Maybe he was dying. Maybe he had a terrible hidden sickness and now something had triggered it and, oh God maybe he was dying.

He was dying and he didn’t tell his mom that he loved her that morning, and Luke didn’t know that he was one of the most incredible songwriters Alex had ever known. He couldn’t breathe and Reggie didn’t know that he meant the world to Alex, and Bobby didn’t know just how fucking much Alex cared and how much he loved it when Bobby gave him one of his rare hugs.

Because now Alex was dying and he couldn’t breathe and everything was foggy and maybe he was sobbing but his chest was so tight that he couldn’t see how he could breathe in enough to cry, let alone sob. And this was it, wasn’t it? Alex was dying alone and it was so fucking stupid because how did he go from writing his essay for English homework to this? To this sobbing panicked mess, rocking on the floor?

He was fucking dying and it was on his kitchen floor. And he was freezing and sweating and God, his stomach hurt too and maybe he wasn’t dying, maybe Alex was just going to lay there and be tortured.  Nope, he was going to die, and holy fuck he wasn’t ready for heaven. His heart was going a mile a minute, and of course this was going to be how he died and-

His death was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder and Alex tried jerking away but he couldn’t move. He could only shake and suck in for breath as the hand carefully pulled him into a sitting position and a low voice started pushing through the fog in his brain.

“Alex? Alex, bud… breathe with me, okay? It’ll be okay.”

But how could he fucking breathe? How could Alex breathe when it felt like his heart was going to explode at any second, his lungs captured in a vice, when his mind couldn’t hold onto a single thought for more than a second-

“Alex, you gotta work with me kid, you just gotta breathe, okay? Breathe in for as long as you can, and then hold that breath. You got it ‘Lex, c’mon, breathe with me. Alright, slow breath out now- you got it-”

And then the hand was his father, and the voice telling him to breathe was his dad, telling him he loved him and that it was okay, that Alex was okay.

Alex kept breathing, and his dad kept holding his hand, and telling him he could do it, that he was proud. Eventually Alex’s heart rate slowed, and while he felt nauseous and exhausted, he could breathe now.

It was okay, he was okay.

“Dad?”

“Yeah ‘Lex?”

“I… Thank you.”

“Always kiddo. And Alex?” Alex looked up at his dad and gave a weak hum. “If you have another panic attack, tell me? You don’t need to be going through that alone.”

Alex nodded and sagged back into his father’s waiting arms.

He was okay.

~~

5.

“Alex! C’mere really quick, I need your help with something!”

Alex looked up from where he sat cross-legged on the floor of his room at the sound of his dad’s voice. He sighed and pushed himself up, ruffling Bobby’s hair on his way out. The band had been brainstorming which songs to perform at their next gig, not that it was going to be very big, but Alex figured that Luke and Reggie were more of the brains of that particular operation, so he set off without a complaint.

Bobby swatted at his hand and rolled onto his back, closing his eyes and leaving Reggie and Luke to be the only one’s actually going through their songs.

“Yeah dad?” Alex leaned over the staircase railing, eyeing the way his father sat hunched over at the table, a scratch piece of paper in front of him, and a pencil tucked behind his ear. Paul Mercer was a tall man with piercing blue eyes, soft brown hair, and a wry smile. Alex liked to think he took after him, aside for the blondness of his own hair.

“Ah, Alex. Can you come over here? I’m making a list.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at that.

“O….kay?” He hopped off the last step and pulled up a chair beside his dad, taking a closer glance at the paper.

Extra blankets

Extra pillows

(extra clothes??)

Pool money for mini fridge

Add loft

“Dad, what’s all this for?”

His father scrubbed a hand over his face, pulling his hand down to rest his chin on his palm.

“I’ve been thinking, well, your mother and I have been, and… your friends…”

“Yeah?” Alex’s voice was sharp, but his dad was acting weird, and he was protective of the boys.

“They don’t have the best home life, so your mom and I were thinking about making the garage more your space. The couch is already in there, so we figured, if you boys wanted, to give it fully to the band. Blankets and pillows for when one of them needs to stay over, a fridge, which, granted, you boys would need to pay for part of it, some odds and ends you boys might need. What do you think?”

Alex turned his eyes up to his father’s and worked his jaw, his throat tight.

“Dad… That’d be great, yeah.”

His dad’s face broke into a relieved smile, and he clapped Alex on the back.

“Alright, well then. You can go back up, but if you think of anything to add, I’m drawing blanks for anything else.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks dad.”

When Alex walked back into his room a few minutes later, Luke and Bobby in an arm-wrestling competition on his bed, Reggie egging them on, he rolled his eyes and smiled.

He was grateful that his parents cared as much for these dumbasses as he did.

“Alright boys, break it up!” He sat on the bed with them, giving a yelp when Bobby launched at him and put him in a headlock before rubbing his knuckles on his head.

He smiled.

~~

+1.

“Supper’s ready!” Mary Mercer called from the dining room, and Alex took a shaky breath and rubbed his sweaty palms on the front of his shirt before walking into the room and sitting at the table.

His dad wandered in next, pressing a kiss to his mom’s forehead, and settling hard into the chair across from Alex.

“Ah! Chicken pot pie! Delicious.”

Alex gave a half-hearted nod of agreement, his stomach churning as he eyed the food in front of him. This was usually one of his favourite meals.

“Well, shall we say grace?” The family of three held hands, Mr. Mercer saying a short blessing while Alex sent up his own frantic plea.

Just let them accept me, God, please.

“-Amen.”

Mrs. Mercer began serving the food and Alex waited anxiously until all of their plates were full to interject.

“Hey mom, dad?” His stomach twisted harder, and he felt his face already heating up. His parents waited expectantly, his mom smiling encouragingly and his father giving a nod. He could do this.

“I’ve been thinking about this, and… I’ve been really struggling with it. It’s been this way as long as I remember, it’s not a big thing it’s just- I’m gay.”

There. It was out.

Alex’s shoulders were hunched, and his eyes tightly closed. A piece of silverware clattered on a plate, a gasp. Good sign or bad sign? Good sign or-

An awkward throat-clearing. 

“Son.” His dad’s voice was low and oh shit, Alex had misjudged this and his dad wasn’t happy and-

He opened his eyes.

Fuck.

His father’s eyes were full of anger, and his mother… Alex’s mom sat in shock, her hand covering her mouth, the tablecloth in front of her a mess of food, her abandoned fork lying prone and vulnerable. Alex found himself relating to it.

“Alexander…” his mom tried, pausing a moment before giving a small unbelieving scoff. “Surely you’re joking. You know our family isn’t like that.”

“And!” Mr. Mercer added, “It’s not funny either.”

Alex’s stomach dropped even further.

“No, dad- mom- I’m actually gay. That’s just part of who I am! I’m still Alex, I just. Can’t make myself like girls.” And he should have stopped. He should have stopped before he even said anything, but he was anxious and why weren’t his parents saying it was okay? Why weren’t they saying they still loved him? And-

“I… like boys instead.”

If words could be knives then they could also be nails, and Alex had just successfully finished the construction of his very own coffin.

A chair slid across the floor, and then his father was pointing angrily and telling him to “get to his fucking room” but Mr. Mercer didn’t yell, and he didn’t swear. Mr. Mercer helped Alex through panic attacks over school, and told him stories about the ocean, and Mr. Mercer never, ever swore.

Except Alex was stumbling, shell-shocked and heartbroken, up the stairs and to his room, and his dad was turning back to his mom and saying “How the hell did we raise him to be a homosexual?” and Alex’s eyes were filling with tears, his chest was tightening up, and he couldn’t breathe.

He shut the door behind him, leaning against it and sliding to the ground as his breathing became even more ragged. Alex wasn’t okay and his parents weren’t okay with him, and as he felt another panic attack coming over him, he used the breathing exercises that the very same man who was now talking about kicking him out, had taught him.

Alex fell asleep to the sound of raised voices.

He woke up to a conversion therapy camp’s pamphlet being shoved under his door.

[fantasyfan]

Misunderstanding: Solangelo Oneshot

My oneshot entry for @jason-the-saving-grace27′s oneshot contest on instagram. **Notes: I did not write the song near the end, it’s ‘Unity’ by Alan Walker. (The line means a new stanza thing, and the capitals mean a new line in the song.) This is only posted here because I can’t put it on instagram for some reason.

“No, you need to- Oh for Gods’ sake just let me do it,” Will sighed. Teaching Nico archery was an absolute nightmare. 

They’d been training for a few weeks, and Nico had made significant progress. Harder techniques, aim, power, all of those were no problem for the son of Hades. He just kept forgetting the basic things, like his stance and posture. 

Which meant, like now, Will had to remind him again. Or, when he lost patience, do it for him. 

Gently taking Nico’s arms, Will positioned him correctly and kneed his slouched back. 

“Straight back, Nico!” 

“How can you expect any part of me to be straight when I’m around you?” Nico smirked flirtatiously, but did as he was told. 

“Thanks, Nico. I love you too.” Will rolled his eyes, but was inwardly laughing. If you got to know him and he trusted you enough, Nico was actually pretty funny. 

Though he wished Nico would be more social, Will enjoyed having this version of the son of Hades all to himself as well. 

“If you love me, then why do I have to do this every day?” Nico complained, his arms throbbing from holding the bow for so long. His fingers hurt too, from pulling back and holding the bowstring for so long. For several consecutive days, Will had made him come out and have private archery lessons with him, which Nico only did because he loved his boyfriend. 

In addition to his sore arms and hurt fingers, the son of Hades was getting tan. His olive turned snow-white skin was now inching its way towards being tan.

Will thought this darker complexion looked good on him, but Nico heavily disagreed. Which is why he now spent as much time as he could basking in the moonlight to try and become pale again. 

Will didn’t have the heart to tell him that that wasn’t how it worked and allowed it as long as Nico slept enough. But of course, Nico wouldn’t do that unless prompted.

Which led Will to go looking for him that night. 

Stumbling out of his cabin, Will rubbed his eyes to adjust to the light of the moon. He was only wearing pyjama bottoms, having jolted awake after realizing he hadn’t checked on Nico yet. 

Most of the time, he’d by lying on the shore of the beach, basking in the moonlight.

Will had just reached the mess hall when he saw, or rather, heard, Nico. He was speaking softly, in a tone that was usually reserved for Will himself. 

“Thank you. I love you, even if you aren’t here with me. Goodnight.” Nico sat still for another minute before standing up and brushing the sand off his trousers. 

He jogged off the beach and got the sand out of his boots before shadow travelling away to his cabin. 

Nico seemed happy, but the same couldn’t be said for Will. He was still comprehending the fact that Nico had said he loved someone. That wasn’t himself. 

“Even if you aren’t here with me,” Will murmured, subconsciously tapping the wall of the mess hall. “The beach...Percy. Percy Jackson.” It made sense, at least in Will’s head, and now that it was the idea was in there, it wasn’t coming out anytime soon. 

Will barely slept at all that night, while Nico slept the best he had in ages.

After all, he had just had a conversation with his sister. Or pretended to, anyway. He’d thought about what she would say to him if she found out he got the best boyfriend he could have ever hoped for. 

Nico went to sleep happy and relaxed, thinking of his sister and Will, while the blonde himself went to sleep distressed and angry.

“Hey, where’s Will?” The next morning, Will was missing, nowhere to be found. Nico poked his head into the Apollo cabin, frowning when his boyfriend was nowhere to be found. 

“I dunno. Haven’t seen him since yesterday, I thought he’d be with you,” Austin shrugged. 

Nico nodded and headed back out, confused. This was weird, Will usually would’ve been around to find Nico for their archery session by now. He hadn’t seen the shaggy blonde hair at breakfast or lunch either. 

Maybe Will just needed some time away, Nico told himself. Everything would be back to normal tomorrow then, if that was the case. 

When things weren’t back to normal the next day, or the day after, Nico got nervous. There had to be a reason Will was avoiding him, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it. 

What if it was really bad, like he wanted to break up with Nico? 

And so, despite not being the most patient, the son of Hades sat himself down and waited for a week. 

After that, Nico snapped. Practically going insane with worry, he skipped breakfast to go look for Will.

The beach was a large open area, and close to the mess hall, so there was no way that Will was there.

He could’ve been around camp somewhere, but Will could also still be seen by Nico if he’d decided to leave breakfast early, or skip it all together like now. 

That left the forest, which Nico knew was one of his boyfriend’s favourite places in the whole camp. Minus the monsters that lurked in there, of course.

So, he set off into the forest, praying that Will wasn’t too deep in.

Will sat in a semicircle of yellow flower bushes, plucking chords on his guitar. He’d been working on a song ever since he’d caught Nico supposedly cheating and talking to Percy. 

“In the dark of night, The stars light up the sky, We see them flying free, That's just like you and me.” Will tapped his pencil on the paper, trying to think of the next lyrics. 

He’d had the melody previously wcomposed, and usually, the lyrics for easy. But now that his mind was filled with darker thoughts, they weren’t coming as easily.

“Everyone is lonely sometimes..” he mumbled, writing it down. Scowling, Will bit his lip. That was a little dark, so he tried to think of a happier line.

Unfortunately, the first thing that came to mind was Percy, and his beautiful sea-green eyes. What Nico said came back to him, and he scowled. But it did give him a good line.

“Everyone is lonely sometimes, But I would walk a thousand miles to see your eyes.” Will scrawled it down in his notebook and started over from the beginning, to make sure it sounded right. 

“In the dark of night, The stars light up the sky, We see them flying free, That's just like you and me. | Everyone is lonely sometimes, But I would walk a thousand miles to see your eyes.” 

“Would you?” Will jumped up at the voice and saw Nico standing in front of him, hands in pockets. “Because right now, it seems like you would walk a thousand miles to avoid my eyes.”

“Well, you would walk a thousand miles to see Percy’s eyes!” Will inwardly grimaced, he hadn’t meant to get angry at Nico. A week of pent-up rage didn’t help keep him from snapping though. 

“Percy?” Nico blinked in confusion, looking at Will like he’d gone mad.

“Yes, Percy! I saw you talking to him last week, by the lake!” Carefully putting his guitar on the ground, Will crossed his arms and glared at the shorter boy. 

“The lake?” There was a moment of silence, during which Nico’s face morphed from confusion to laughter. “Will, you idiot! That’s what you were avoiding me for?” 

Without waiting for an answer, Nico closed the short distance between the two grabbing Will’s shirt and pulling him down to kiss him. 

Will had to admit he missed this, especially when Nico let go and wrapped his arms around him, the shaggy black hair tickling his chin.

“I was talking to my sister, sunshine. I was imagining what she would say if I could still summon her.” Nico smiled into his chest, one so wide that Will could feel it.

“But why the beach?” He asked, trying to seem skeptical even when he was hugging Nico back. 

“I was 10. The lake was the last time I remember seeing her happy, when you guys played capture the flag and Percy and Thalia blew up at each other. That’s the only reason I remember it so well, and that’s why I went there.” 

It made sense, since Nico didn’t play capture the flag and wouldn’t know where they actually played. 

Will was beyond glad, but  “Ah,”” was all he said.

“It was a misunderstanding, you idiot.” Will only smiled, and Nico looked up, laughing at his goofy grin. “Well, how about that song you were singing?” 

The two of them sat down, and now that everything was solved between them, it was like a dam had been broken and the lyrics that had been held back flowed through. 

“In the dark of night, The stars light up the sky, We see them flying free, That's just like you and me. | Everyone is lonely sometimes, But I would walk a thousand miles to see your eyes. You are not alone, we are family, Hold me, let’s escape this reality…”

[gryffindordaughterofathena]

HI fellow Gryffindor! Here are a few more questions for D&E! Hope it's okay to answer as them still!

For Both

What’s the most embarrassing childhood story you know about your spouse?

What did they want to be when they were younger?

What was your spouse's favorite band in high school?

Describe your spouse in high school using memes or/and gifs only.

How old was your spouse when they had their first kiss? Who was it with?

If you two were the same age and had met in college, how would you have met? Would you have liked each other? Dated? Eventually married?

Which of your spouse's friends is the most attractive?

Who was your spouse's hero when they were growing up?

Can you name all your spouse’s exes before you?

Thank you for the questions Bree, I had so much fun answering these.

FOR BOTH

•What’s the most embarrassing childhood story you know about your spouse?

Diana: (almost bouncing in her chair) Oh please can I go first? I have the perfect one.

Ethan : Rookie please have mercy

Di : Nope.... So when I visited Providence for the first time, Alan showed me a picture where Ethan was making out-

Ethan : I told you I wasn't, I was practicing CPR

Diana : Don't interrupt me Ramsey, so as I was saying, he was making out with his teddy bear. It's hilarious and I am never letting him live it down.

Ethan : *groans* (but suddenly his eyes light up with mischief) Rookie you have started a war.

Di : What war? You don't have any embarrassing stories about me (suddenly a little unsure) Do you?

E : When she was a kid she tried to hatch an egg by tucking it in her shirt, which resulted in the egg breaking and her being coated in all the yolk in the middle of the night.

Di : Wait how do you even know this? Everyone who knew were supposed to take this to their graves. Wait it was my grandmother isn't it? She told you.

Ethan : Astute observation as always Rookie. Your grandmother has some interesting stories.

Di : I hate you both so much.... (then softly) I just wanted to have a pet duckling....

•What did they want to be when they were younger?

Ethan : Di wanted to be many things as a kid. Once it was her aim to be a teacher, once she wanted to be a forensic expert and once she wanted to join the circus.

Diana : That circus thing was just one time. Well Ethan always wanted to be a detective but Alan told me he once had a pirate phase when he was five.

•What was your spouse's favorite band in high school?

Ethan : Di never had a favourite band but she always was a fan of Taylor Swift's songs.

Di : He never was fond of any single band but he loved music in his own way, I guess. He played the cello and was drawn to whichever song he liked at the moment.

•Describe your spouse in high school using memes or/and gifs only.

Ethan : Do I have to do this? I find memes juvenile

Diana : Just do it Gramps

Ethan : (sighs) okay then

Ethan : This because how obsessed Di was with books back then.

This, because she had terrible arachnophobia and had once skipped school because of a spider on the strap of her book bag and as no one was there to remove it for her.

Di : Spiders are terrible *shudders* and back then I didn't have you to protect me from them.

Ethan : *smirking slightly* Is that why you married me? For my spider killing abilities?

Di : *shrugs* Among other reasons.

This is Ethan

Because he always corrected other students

Ethan : When they were wrong

Di : My point stands

This because he absolutely hated some of his teachers and would set fire on them if he could.

And this because he never changed and smiled as little he could even back in school.

Ethan : Wait did you just turn me into a meme?

Diana : (both hands raised) I promise it wasn't me, it was Bryce, I swear.

Ethan : I need to talk with the scalpel jockey

Di : (whispering) It was me.

•How old was your spouse when they had their first kiss? Who was it with?

Diana : He was 16 when he had his first kiss.

Ethan : You were 17 right?

Di : Yes, it was Mark, we went to prom together.

•If you two were the same age and had met in college, how would you have met? Would you have liked each other? Dated? Eventually married?

Diana : We would have met in the library I guess, with the amount of reading we both do.

Ethan : Or it could be in one of the classes

Di : But romance in the Library is more romantic, we would reach for the same book and then he being the chivalrous guy he is, he would offer the book to me and I'll offer to share. And then we fall in love and get married.

Ethan : You surprise me with the amount of detail you have put into this.

Di : That's because I think we are inevitable

Ethan : Well I think it's impossible to know you the way I do and not to fall in love with you.

Di : *kisses him softly*

•Which of your spouse's friends is the most attractive?

Di : Can I say Harper? (To Ethan) She's your friend right? I want to be her when I grow up.

Ethan : You are ridiculous

Di : You love me for that.

E : True... Now can we go to the next question?

Di : Hey don't try to avoid this question

Ethan : (mutters) well it was worth a try. If I absolutely have to choose then Sienna.

Di : Yeah I agree

•Who was your spouse's hero when they were growing up?

Di : Although he would disagree because, "Idolatry among physicians is absurd Rookie", Ethan looked up to Naveen a lot, even before he knew him, his works inspired him. And also he won't admit it but he really looked up to Alan.

Ethan : Di's hero as she grew up would be her Mom, she really is someone worth looking up to.

•Can you name all your spouse’s exes before you?

Ethan : I guess so, there was Mark from high school, and Arjun from Med School, just these two I think.

Diana : Yes, I didn't have too many boyfriends, it's necessary for me to have some sort of emotional attachment with someone before being romantically involved and there weren't many guys before Ethan who were like that.

(She links her hand with his)

As for Ethan, there's Harper obviously and Dr. Isabella White from med school and I have forgotten the name of his first girlfriend.

Ethan : Well it doesn't matter when I have the most important person of my life right by my side.

(He tugs her closer and kisses the crown of her head)

❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀

[tagsecretsanta]

From @Onereyofstarlight

to @godsliltippy

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

Jelly smears onto her arm where Gordon grabs her and a ball of wrapping paper and tape is thrust into her hands.

“’t’s for you,” he says, eyes alight as she holds the pink package away from her body. 

Penelope stares at him and looks over to her father. Years of etiquette, engrained into her by nurses, nannies and governesses, never prepared her for the clumsy friendship of a five-year-old boy who showed all his teeth when he smiled.

No-one would know if she didn’t thank him. Just the two of them, and she doubts he would even notice. 

Her mother would notice. Her dead mother’s presence was everywhere, lurking in the corners of every room and watching Penelope’s every move. Her mother would tell someone and they would tell her father.

Nothing escapes Lord Creighton-Ward, especially not in his own house.

She nods slowly instead, allowing a thin smile to spread across her face. 

“Thank you, Gordon.”

There’s dirt on his nose. Her smile falters.

But Gordon is five and starry eyed and in love with the pretty girl who came to play school with his brothers and doesn’t see the lie in her eyes. 

He runs back to his mother, heedless of the way Penelope’s eyes follow him.

“Wot’s tha’ milady?”

“Nothing, Parker.”

She means it too.

The gift is never opened, discarded among the steamers and half-eaten plates of food.

Gordon never notices.

***

The next year, he gives her nothing but a cold stare.

***

Time passes and she’s no longer a haughty girl of seven, sulking in the back room of a boring Christmas Eve party, and he’s no longer the kid who follows his brothers like a lost puppy. He bounds first into every room, demanding attention and she can hardly stop herself from giving it to him. 

“Hey,” says John, looking slightly affronted at the way her eyes have slipped away from him once again. “You listening to me?”

“Yes.”

She’s lying, and she’s gotten good at that, but John still knows her tells, still knows her.

“Sure.”

It’s hard to hear him over the bright spark of laughter on the other side of the room. Gordon is surrounded, entertaining the small children stuck in the same position she was exactly twelve years ago.

A nudge pulls her from her thoughts and John nods in his direction.

“Talk to him.”

Penelope says nothing and he reads her silence as easily as his mathematical proofs. His mouth twists as he watches her, biting back platitudes that she can’t stand to hear.

“He got you a gift,” John says quietly. His eyes never leave her and she wishes desperately that she could leave. “He spent hours thinking about it, didn’t shut up about it since he drew your–”

“Don’t tell me that.”

His hands rise, open and honest and the words fall heavy between them.

She’d never been more pathetically grateful than when Gordon pulled her name for the annual Christmas round robin. She doesn’t need John to point it out to her.

There’s a dry lump in her throat and it tastes like pity.

Penelope knows she’s being a terrible host, but she allows the silence to stretch between them.

“Do you want another drink?”

She shakes her head, looking very carefully into the flickering flames. 

John sighs and collects her glass from the mantle all the same. 

“I’ll be back.”

She watches John as he strides across the dance floor, half convinced he’s about to spill the beans to Gordon, but he barely gives him a second glance. Instead, a few short words and a pointed look in her direction sends Virgil her way.

“Penelope, you’re looking wonderful.”

“What did John tell you?”

He grins and offers her his hand.

“Just thought you might appreciate a dance. Take your mind off matters.”

“He told you?”

“Never, our Johnny is a gentleman first. And a dancer last.”

On tiptoes, she spies John over his brother’s shoulder and glares at him as he ducks out of the room.

“One dance then, Mr Tracy.”

“Lady Creighton-Ward.”

In truth, Virgil is a wonderful dancer. They move like starlings in the dusk, mesmerising and perfectly choreographed as the music swells in a familiar beat. It’s easy and joyful, allowing herself to move without thinking while Virgil mutters terribly judgemental comments about the more stuck-up members of her peers.

“Stop it, Virgil,” she whispers, fighting a smile. “It’s not funny.”

He laughs and they dance, allowing the music and conversation to direct their pace and as the song swells, he twirls her, throwing her into a spin with laughter erupting from her lips, and yet it’s Gordon who catches her.

The sound dies and blood rushes to her cheeks. She drops his hand and stares, lips parted, eyes wide.

It’s embarrassing, really.

Virgil has made himself scarce, but her eyes are trained on Gordon alone. In his hands, he holds a present, its yellow bow flopping over like her father’s dog after a long walk, and he smiles, crooked and sweet in its uncertainty.

She can’t bring herself to breathe. His smile falters as his face flushes and he drops his eyes. They stand together and their eyes don’t meet. In one stilted motion, he presses the small box into her palm and turns away. 

Their hands never touch, but the gift is still warm. She traces the yellow ribbon as she watches him go.

“Thank you,” she calls out with a rush of courage. 

He glances back over his shoulder and shrugs, his smile brilliant between flaming cheeks.

“Welcome, Pen. Happy Christmas.”

And it is. 

Later that night, she stares at the neatly wrapped box and turns it over in her hands. She should open it, she knows, but she remembers John telling her how Gordon had agonised over this. He deserves more than a bleary thank you note tainted by exhausted emotion.

She puts the gift aside, ready for Christmas morning when she can take her time.

She wakes up and it’s Christmas Day.

It’s Christmas Day and her father dies.

***

She packs her childhood away and smiles with all the gracious manner he’d always expected of her. People stream through the house; some she hasn’t seen for years and some she’d seen only yesterday. Their comfort is as empty as the house she grew up in.

“We can’t put this off any longer, Penelope.”

Her aunt’s quiet voice breaks through the haze of grief and exhaustion.

“Not yet,” she whispers, watching the door.

“Not even Jeff Tracy can change an international flight plan midcourse. By the time they land, refuel and deal with the bureaucrats in order to get back here, I need to be gone. And you need to be with me.”

She exhales shakily, fighting the tears and tightness in her chest.

“Let me get my things.”

Great Aunt Sylvia nods and Penelope stands. It’s short work but she allows herself to hesitate. She knows what she’s getting into, and there won’t be time for sentimentality in her future. She looks down at the little box she’d placed on her bedside table. She should leave it behind along with her regrets. 

She pulls on the ribbon. It’s an impulse and a foolish one, and she can’t stop herself until she holds the gift unwrapped in her hands.

A laugh bubbles out of her, genuine and surprising in the dullness of the day. A pair of door knockers, moulded into the familiar shape of Sherbet, lay gleaming in the tissue paper. 

It’s ridiculous and perfect and she can’t help but love it.

“Penelope, dear? No time for dilly-dalliances.”

“I’ll be right down, Aunt Sylvia.”

Penelope collects her things, still biting back a smile. She’ll have them installed while she’s away.

***

Penelope trains in espionage. Gordon joins the military.

She completes her apprenticeship and Jeff Tracy offers her a position. He doesn’t return.

His father dies. She listens, numb, as Scott tries to get through to his superiors. No amount of money or connections will allow Gordon to resurface from his position of deep cover.

Unease settles over the family and no-one asks her to leave the island. So, she stays. She programs her favourite meals into the kitchen computer, hands tools to Brains and tells Parker to look after Mrs Tracy. Her employer is dead, but she’s not sure where else she should be.

Alan follows her around. Virgil sleeps. She doesn’t know what Scott and John are doing, locked away in the study.

Eventually, Gordon comes back. He’s lost his healthy tan and the bags under his eyes look like storm clouds. Still, he laughs as he swings Alan around in a hug, and drags Virgil out of his room, and needles at his other two brothers until they finally tell him the plan moving forward.

International Rescue will continue and Penelope no longer feels like a stranger on the island. The black despair begins to peel back and she can feel the hope and determination they all share.

It’s a gift.

***

He’s bashful.

He’s infuriating.

He’s scared.

He’s ecstatic.

He’s lost.

He’s safe.

His father is alive.

His father is alive and he’s looking at her, joy in his eyes and determination behind his smile.

He slips beneath the cool armour she forged in the wake of her father’s funeral with a kiss.

There’s no time to talk until there is.

He walks his grandmother’s son across the room and turns to her.

He reaches out and she meets him there.

*** 

It’s a fragile thing between them, still nebulous and undefined. Her breath catches as he slides an arm around her waist and tucks himself against her skin. Great Aunt Sylvia would never approve of such a blatant display. Parker certainly doesn’t. 

It’s vulnerable and honest, and so very Gordon, and she tenses as his family’s eyes land on them, bracing herself for the scrutiny to which she’s opening herself. He tugs her close, careless and unrepentant beneath the gentle ribbing and wolf whistles. She can hear the distinct bleep of money being transferred between bank accounts and shoots a glare in Virgil’s direction. 

It turns out that no-one finds them very interesting, hardly saying a word and playing with each other’s hands.

He presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, until it spreads into a smile of her own beneath him. Her eyes flutter closed and she moves to clutch at the hand that cups her cheek.

“Hey,” he whispers, mouth against her skin. “Happy Birthday.”

She pulls away and stares. 

“I thought you said we would exchange gifts on Christmas. I haven’t wrapped yours yet, you should have told me and–”

“Pen,” he interrupts, laughing a little. “I said ‘Happy Birthday’. It’s not Christmas time just yet.”

“I don’t understand.”

He shrugs as he reaches behind him with a sheepish grin.

“Well, it’s just I know how it is, being born near a holiday. Gotta imagine being born the day before Christmas lends itself to that combined present crap far too easily for people.” He glances down at the parcel, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I know you said you didn’t want a fuss, but I wanted you to know I was thinking of you today.”

She loves him. The thought is no longer new or surprising but for the first time she embraces it and allows it to warm her heart instead of squirrelling the idea away in a fit of shame. He thought of her and she loves him and she doesn’t care about presents, not really, but no one had ever thought of her like he does.  

He hands her a brightly wrapped parcel and she can’t help the dopey smile that grows as she holds it in her hands.

“Thank you, Gordon,” she says, still staring in delight.

“Well, there’s more where that came from.” It’s a self-conscious laugh, tinged with uncertainty and he can’t help himself and the question spills forth. “You like it?”

“I haven’t opened it yet,” she says with a laugh of her own. “But I already love it.” 

He looks entirely too pleased with himself, but she knows how to fix that these days. Leaning forward, she kisses him herself, paying no mind to the rest of the family. 

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

[avidreider]

Journals Part 3 ~ all bad (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Journals Series 

Based on the song, “All Bad” by Justin Bieber.

CW: more angst (sorry, it will get happy eventually).

This whole fic is from 3rd person or Spencer’s POV. 

Key: Y/N = your name, italicized = unspoken thoughts, bold = texts/emails/notes, bold + italicized = song lyrics.

-- I do not own rights to the gif or the song. -- 

How many times did Spencer have to call Y/N before he finally wore her down enough for her to at least answer? He didn’t know why he was even trying; it was incredibly likely that she had blocked his number again. 

“You alright kid?” Derek asked, when Spencer was silent for the first hour and a half at work. 

“Yeah, I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.” 

“Kid, we all know that this attitude is from more than fatigue. You can’t shut us out forever.” 

“Drop it, Morgan.” 

And with a quick pat on the shoulder, Derek left Spencer alone at his desk. 

Hey Reid. Can you come to my Batcave for a minute? I’ll make it worth your while. ;)

With a sigh, Spencer hoisted himself out of his chair and headed toward Garcia’s lair. 

“Did you need something, Garcia?” Spencer asked. 

“Well first of all, I made some really good cookies and I wanted you to have first dibs,” she handed him the plate with a smile. “And secondly, I wanted to let you know that Y/N did not block your number. So that tells me that she isn’t over you, she’s just hurt. She may just need a little more time and -” 

“Garcia, I didn’t ask you to do this. She caught me with a woman she was worried about. There’s no way that -”

“She caught you with another woman?!” she exclaimed as she planted a loud smack on Spencer’s chest. 

“Okay first of all, OW. Second of all, we were just having coffee, but Y/N freaked out before I could explain.” 

“What’s this woman’s name?”

“Lila Everett, I’m quite sure you don’t know her-”

“Okay Boy Wonder, get out.”

“Why?”

“Just get out, I’ll text you if I have anymore updates,” and with that, Spencer went back to the stack of paperwork waiting for him at his desk. 

--- MEANWHILE ---  

Garcia tapped and clicked and called away in order to find out everything she could about Lila Everett; every job, transaction, relationship, and mistake, and compiled a list for Reid. She sent it to his email with small little markers wherever she wanted to leave a note. 

One section of the document really struck Reid. He was a profiler, but even Lila had him fooled. 

Alan Wright

Josh Stern 

Matt Blevins 

Evan Hart 

> All of these men that she’s dated claimed that she cheated on them. Y/N would never cheat on you. She also stole money from them early on in their relationships, but they let it go due to her charm. 

Spencer stood up to go talk to Penelope. “Stop sending me dirt on Lila. I don’t like her. I probably won’t ever see her again, okay?”

“Good, she’s not for you Reid.” 

“I know,” he replied, just as his phone buzzed flashing a notification indicating that Y/N had finally texted him. 

Spencer. Please stop talking about me to Penelope. I understand that you messed up and that you want to talk, but I am not in the mood to talk to you just yet. You broke me. You got bored with me, so you turned to some woman you barely knew. You neglected me and our relationship and I just don’t see how you can fix that at this point. 

I know, Y/N. I’m so sorry. 

Sorry still doesn’t change anything, Spencer. Lila got ahold of me, and told me what you said to her. 

What are you talking about?

You told her how much she meant to you, how beautiful and gorgeous she was, how you could see yourself falling for her, how she was better than me, etc. 

What? I never said any of that to Lila. 

Spencer dialed Y/N’s number as quickly as he could. 

“Hello?” 

“What are you talking about? I never told Lila any of that. Lila and I were just friends, but we aren’t even that anymore.” Spencer said, confused. 

“Do not play with me, Spencer. She said that you two are going to dinner tonight, and that she thinks that she may be pregnant with your child,” Y/N said, with tears in her voice. 

Spencer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had never even met with Lila outside of school hours besides the one coffee they grabbed together. “Y/N, she’s lying to you. I’ve never even spent time with her. How could you think so little of me?”

“She told me everything, Spencer! You don’t have to lie to me anymore,” Y/N said, before hanging up. 

It's another, if it ain't one thing. Instigators, like pouring fire on propane. The wrong thing, they be worried about. Oh, you know females -  And how they like to run their mouths. 

Wanna be, just like, talk like, you - Misery, misery, loves company. Don't let them change your mood.

They try to get at me  Behind your back,  Tryna tell me that I'm just like the others, But I ain't all bad.

I might make you mad, so mad.

My bad, no, I ain't all bad.

Several days passed, and Spencer hasn’t been sleeping or eating well. 

He was almost dozing on a Sunday afternoon when there was a knock at the door. 

He looked like a wreck, but he didn’t care. He flung the door open to see Y/N’s tear-stained face. 

“Y/N?! Come in, please! Are you okay?” He asked, as he enveloped her in a tight hug. 

“I just didn’t know if you still wanted to talk,” she responded. 

“Yes, yes of course! I’ll put on some coffee.” 

Spencer rushed around his apartment trying to calm his nerves and clean up at the same time. 

Once the pair were settled in with their coffee, Y/N began to speak. “So, Lila and I have been talking, and it turns out we have a lot in common,” she began with a smile, “and whoever you decide that you want to be with, the other would like to remain friends with you. We both love you.” 

Spencer was still confused as to why he was ever a topic of conversation for Lila when he hadn’t spoken to her since they met at the coffeehouse. 

“Y/N, I don’t know what she’s been telling you, but there is absolutely nothing going on between me and Lila. I don’t know how to prove it to you, but I’ll do whatever it takes. You are the one that I love, and I am so sorry that I took you for granted. That will never happen again. I’ll have Garcia hack into our phones and prove that we haven’t been talking, if that will convince you.” 

“I think she needs to hear that, Spencer, because she thinks that you two are an item.” 

“Then baby, she’s delusional,” Spencer said with a grin. 

“Shall we tell her the news today, then?” 

“Anything for you, Y/N.” 

“Okay, I’ll have her meet us at the same coffeehouse from the other day.” 

The ride there was quiet, but content. Lila was already there waiting, and she greeted the pair with a smile. Y/N slid into the opposite side of the booth, and Spencer joined her. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw how disappointed Lila looked by that fact. 

“So...” Lila began. 

“I’m not sure why you told Y/N that you and I were anything more that friends, or that we had ever had sexual intercourse when he haven’t be physically intimate in any capacity whatsoever. I also don’t know why you made a big deal to befriend Y/N in the first place, but our relationships with you - friends or otherwise - will be ending here. Y/N is the love of my life, and you are just a troublemaker,” Spencer stated with the utmost confidence. With all that being said, Lila began to cry. 

“Spencer,” Y/N reprimanded, “that was very rude. We can still be friends with her. You just won’t be pursuing a romantic relationship with her.” 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve that,” Lila cried, “but I’m sorry, Spencer. See, Y/N, I told you that Spencer was just manipulating us both!” 

Spencer nearly lost it. How dare he contaminate the mind of his one true love?! 

“Me?!” Spencer spat, “you are the only one being manipulative here! Come on, Y/N.” 

“Spencer... we can’t just leave her.” 

“Baby, your heart is so big, and that’s one of the many reasons why I love you. But she is trying to ruin our relationship! You have to be blind to not see that!” Spencer exclaimed. 

“I may not be a profiler, but that doesn’t mean that I’m stupid, Spencer.”

“I know you’re not stupid, baby, but please. Can’t we just go home? I missed you so much.” 

Reluctantly, Y/N agreed, but not without leaning across the table to Lila to whisper, “text me later, okay?”

“I will,” she responded, still sobbing. When Y/N turned to leave though, it was clear the sobs were fake. Spencer turned to look at her, and Lila had the most evil grin on her face. Spencer clenched his jaw, and pushed Y/N out the door. 

Between us, they wanna comment. Your worst enemy some time be your best friend - Perfect, ain't saying that I am... Proven, least I'm proving that I give a damn.

Wanna be, everything I ought to be to you,  Envy, envy, same thing as jealousy - Jealous of you, That's what they do.

They try to get at me Behind your back,  Tryin' to tell me that I'm just like the others But I ain't all bad.

No, no, I ain't all bad...

[catlynhoss05]

How Far We’ve Come Ch. 2

Tony DiNozzo x sister!reader Jethro x reader

Tony DiNozzo x sister!reader Jethro x reader

Summary: (Y/n) gets home from deployment and surprises her older brother, Tony DiNozzo. What she didn’t expect was to fall head over heels in love with Leroy Jethro Gibbs. (You guys remember in season 14 where Alex Quinn and Nick Torres’s desks were facing each other? That’s how (Y/N) and McGee’s desks are.)

     (Y/N) sighed, running her hand through her short platinum blonde hair as she leaned back in her chair. She was set up at a temporary desk while things got figured out. She was now doing all the required paperwork that needed to be done for her to become an agent. ‘Man, this is taking forever.’ She thought to herself as she continues working on her paperwork. (Y/N) didn’t expect the paperwork to take this long and required so much reading. “Hey, sis. How’s the paperwork going?” Tony asked as he leaned up against his desk. “It’s taking forever, Tony. I honestly did not expect this much paperwork. I just want to be done with it.” (Y/N) groaned, resting her head in her hands. “At least you have two more papers to do. It’ll be worth it, I promise.” Tony said, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Thanks, Tony.” (Y/N) gives him a half smile.

     When (Y/N) had finished her paperwork and gave it to HR, it was about 2 o’clock in the afternoon. As (Y/N) walked back into the bullpen, she wasn’t so sure on what she was supposed to do now. So, she had decided to go sit down at her desk that was next to Tim’s. “Hey, (Y/N).” Ziva called out from her desk. “Yeah, what’s up?” (Y/N) asked. “Has Tony always been so...?” “Tony? Yes, he has. Oh, the stories I could tell you about our childhood.” (Y/N) chuckles. “Those’ll have to wait, (Y/N). Got a dead Lieutenant. Grab your gear.” Gibbs says as he walks into the bullpen and to his desk. “Me too, Gibbs?” (Y/N) asked, standing up from her desk. “Yes, you too. And, here’s your badge and gun...... Probie.” Gibbs gives his signature smile as he hands her her stuff. He turns on his heel, making his way to the elevator where the other three agents are waiting. (Y/N) smiles and grabs her new NCIS jacket off the back of her chair and hurries to the elevator with the rest of the team.

     Once the team arrived to the crime scene, (Y/N) notices that the crime scene was in an alley way next to a country line dance type of bar. “Man, I love me a good line dance.” She said as she walked up to Gibbs. “You like line dancing?” Gibbs asked, smiling. “Yes, sir. I have soft spot for everything country. Especially line dancing and old western movies. So, what-” (Y/N) was interrupted by an excited McGee. “Boss, you’ve got to hear (Y/N) sing. She is amazing.” McGee said excitedly. “Look, I was in the back of the van and the song ‘My Maria’ by Brooks and Dunn had come on and I just couldn’t resist to NOT sing along. Can we please get to work now?” (Y/N) blushes. “I like that idea. (Y/N), do crime scene photos. Ziva, bag and tag. DiNozzo and McGee, get witness statements.” Gibbs barks out.

     “Hey, (Y/n). You should tell Gibbs about those home movies that we’ve made.” Tony chuckled. “Just get to work, Anthony. I’m a Sniper and I will end you.” (Y/n) said, starting to take the crime scene photos. “What do we have, Duck?” Gibbs asked as he crouched beside Ducky. “Well Jethro, looks like he was beaten with a hollow object. I do believe that either this blow to the head or this needle mark on his neck had killed our Lieutenant. I’ll know more when I get him back to autopsy.” Ducky explains. Gibbs stands up from where he was crouched down at when he sees Tony and McGee were walking back over to the scene.

     “What did you guys find out from the witnesses?” Gibbs asked. “They all pretty much said the same thing. They all saw Lieutenant Andrews having some drinks with some buddies for a few hours, but didn’t see the Lieutenant leave. That was all that they remembered.” McGee explained. “There was one guy though, Alan Michaels. He said he saw a man about 5′8″, red hair, medium build, follow Lieutenant Andrews out of the bar last night.” Tony said. "Did you get his number just in case we may need him, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked. "Yes, boss."

     Once (Y/n) was done taking the crime scene photos, she was making her way over to Gibbs, McGee and Tony when a truck's exhaust backfires. The sound of the exhaust backfiring triggers a bit of (Y/n)'s PTSD that she didn't know that she had. The noise makes her drop to her knees and covers her ears with her hands while she still had the camera strap hanging from her neck. Tony and McGee take notice of (Y/n)'s actions when she goes down to her knees and run over to her. "Hey, hey, hey. (Y/n), it's okay. You're okay. Just breathe." Tony says to her as he's on his knees in front of her.

     Gibbs ran over to the commotion to see if he could be of any help. "N-No..... Make it stop. M-Make it stop, please." (Y/n) begged. "(Y/n), it's okay. It's over; it's all over. It was just a truck exhaust that backfired." Tony soothed as he pulled (Y/n) into a hug. After a few minutes of hugging, she spoke up. "I think I'm good now, Tony. Thank you." Tony pulled away and helped his sister up off of the ground. "No problem. But, are you sure that you're okay?" He asked. "Yes, Tony. I'm okay and I'm sorry if I had scared you guys. I never had that happen before." She said as she looked at McGee and Gibbs. "It's okay, (y/n). We're just glad that you're okay." McGee reassured her. She gave him a shy smile in return. "I've been home now for two weeks and not returning back to home base anymore is something I still haven't gotten use to. But the hard part of being home was having to bury two of my Marine brothers." (Y/n) explained to the agents. Gibbs knew all to well how that was like when he had gone through the same thing and then some. "Anyway....." (Y/n) sighed. "I was actually just coming over to tell you, Gibbs, that I'm done with the crime scene photos. Oh, and that Ducky and Palmer are done as well and are actually loaded up and ready to go." (Y/n) explained. "Alright. (Y/n), you ride with me this time and the you two and Ziva take the van." "Yes, sir." (Y/n) gave McGee the camera and started to follow Gibbs back to the squad car.

     The car ride back to the office had started out pretty quiet between Gibbs and (y/n). "So, does Vance know about your fallen brothers?" Gibbs asked as he glanced over at her. "Yes, he does. That's why I didn't come back into the office to start filling out the rest of my paperwork right away. I, uh...... Had to bury one of my brothers the other week and then my other brother last week with some time in between to cope with the losses." (Y/n) rubbed her face and sighed. "Do you mind if I turn on the radio?" She asked. "It doesn't work." Gibbs chuckled, earning a smirk from (y/n). Gibbs had started developing feelings for the young agent since the moment they met. He had a suspicious feeling that she had the same feelings for him by the lingering looks and the way she occasionally looked away when they made eye contact.

     “So, what are these home movies that Tony was talking about?” Gibbs asked with a chuckle. (Y/n) groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “When I decided that I was going to enlist in the Core, it was like two weeks before I graduated high school. Tony and I had made this promise with each other....” She trailed off. “We made this promise that before I left for boot camp and for whenever I came home on leave, we would make as many home movies as we could before I had to leave again.” (Y/n) explained with a smile as she recalled the memories. “What were the movies about?” Gibbs asked curiously.

     “We played the piano and sang random songs together for some of them. Then there were some where either Tony or myself played the piano while singing as the other would make up some random dance behind the other. And then the rest were just of us in the kitchen acting like we were professional chefs and making complete fools of ourselves.” She laughed as she described the home movies. Gibbs smiled and laughed along with her as he pulled into the parking lot and parked the car. Gibbs and (y/n) made their way back into the NCIS building. They were in the elevator back up to the bullpen when (y/n) spoke up. “I’m sorry if I had scared you at the crime scene today. That’s never happened before and I’m pretty sure it’s from what I experienced in the Core.” (Y/n) apologized.

     “It’s alright. I’m just glad that you’re okay.” Gibbs said, giving her a reassuring smile. “Oh, I almost forgot. Do you have any plans this weekend? Because, I need some help with the moving truck and getting everything into my apartment. I’ll even order us some take out. What do you say, Gibbs?” (Y/n) asked. “Of course I’ll help. I can bring the beverages. Beer or Bourbon?” He asked. “Uh, duh. Bourbon!” “Deal.” Gibbs chuckled. He loved the way she smiled at him and the way she looked at him with a sparkle in those big brown eyes of hers. “Thanks, Gibbs. I’m just glad that I made a deal with my landlord. And that I have a pretty awesome boss too.” (Y/n) chuckled, lightly bumping shoulders with Gibbs.

     When everyone on team Gibbs had gotten back to the office, it had been a couple of hours or so and every lead that had came through was a dead end. Until (y/n) came across Lieutenant Skylar Andrews’ phone records. “Found something.” She spoke up as she did some more digging on the phone records. “What did you find, (y/n)?” Gibbs asked, coming over to her desk. “I think that the Lieutenant was gay.” She said, looking up at Gibbs. “You think?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. She raised her eyebrows at him and leaned back in her chair. “May I continue or do you wanna do this instead?” She challenged. Gibbs chuckled and shook his head. “Go on.”

     (Y/n) smirked and sat back up. “Well, the Lieutenant had made a lot of calls and had messaged the same number for the last two years. I’ve gone through and read some of the very detailed messages to where I came to know that he, in fact, was gay. He was calling and messaging his boyfriend of two years.” (Y/n) explained. “And how do you know for sure that he was gay and contacting his boyfriend?” Tony asked. “The messages were very detailed and by very detailed, I mean there were VERY graphic photos too.” She explained again. “If that’s the case, then how do we catch our guy?” Tim asked. “You can send two of us into the bar acting as a gay military couple to lure the man out. Then we can catch him there.” (Y/n) said to Gibbs and waited as he thought about it for a minute.

     “Ziver. You and (y/n) go into the bar tonight as a couple But, what’s our game plan here?” Gibbs asked. “Do you know how to line dance, Ziva?” (Y/n) asked. “Yes, but I haven’t been line dancing in a few years.” Ziva answered. “Okay. C’mon, David. We gotta practice line dancing before tonight. Oh, and Gibbs. What uniform should I wear?” (Y/n) asked. “Wear your fatigues.” “Got it, boss. And, Tony. I got a hotter girlfriend than you do.” (Y/n) joked.

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 1) John Deacon x Reader Series

I’ve read so many fan fics in the past four months and I thought it was high time to try my hand at it. I’ve created this side blog so that I can 1) Express my love for Queen and 2) Not annoy the randos from high school and college who still follow my main. This’ll be a slow burn folks, so hold on to your hats.

Series summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction, and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader (eventually)

Chapter Warnings: Lots o’ curses

Chapter Summary: This is basically just some set up for the series. No Deacy yet, but a meet-cute to happen very soon! I got the band name with the help of some random band name generator so be kind. I’m hoping to introduce in some songs readers may not have heard - I was thinking of “Heart of the Night” by Juice Newton while writing this, hence the single name and album.

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

- - - - - - -

Days of Our Lives Documentary Shoot - 2010

(Brian May and Roger Taylor Joint Interview)

“The early 80s were huge for us, for sure. I believe we were at our biggest then, internationally speaking.” Brian states, glancing over to Roger.

“Yes, Another One Bites the Dust really set things a-flame I think. The traveling and playing were constant. The crowds getting bigger by the venue. Parties, hotels, girls, more parties. We were meeting just so many people.” Roger adds.

“And one of those being a certain American female rock singer.” The interviewer adds quietly from off-camera.

Roger glances over to him with a questioning look, but Brian catches on quick, like always.

“Ah yes, that particular rock goddess. We did meet her around then, I believe, yes. Maybe a few years after.” Brian says knowingly, still playing along.

Roger stares into space with a confused look on his face until the realization hits him. “Are we talking about Y/N?” Roger mutters to Brian. “Yes” Brian chuckles, patting his friend on the shoulder.

“Oh, what a spit-fire she is! Not back then though. Fred really worked some magic with that one. Almost inseparable those two were.” Roger laughs out, a wave of nostalgia washing over his face.

Brian raises his large eyebrows, “Deacy would beg to differ I think.”

Roger smirks, “Oh, well that’s a whole different story.”

- - - - - - -

1982 - MTV Studios, New York City

You run your hands up and down your thighs, trying to will your left knee to stop repeatedly bouncing up and down. The satin of your pants does nothing for the layer of sweat on your clammy hands. You fold them together in your lap and gaze around the studio instead, taking in the bustling of crew members as they ready for the pre-taped interview. The god-like VJ, Alan Hunter, sits in a chair off to the side as someone artfully pieces his blonde locks into place. He grins over at you with a small wave. You limply lift your hand in a greeting, pasting on a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

You catch your pained expression as you glimpse a monitor off-camera. A friendly woman backstage had painted your face to the point of being almost unrecognizable. Gone was the evidence under your eyes of the restless sleep you’d fought the previous night. They were wide and doed, rather than their normal crescent shape. Your lips full and vibrant, your hair bounced and fanned out around your face. And your skin seemed to be glowing, masking the spots that had popped up overnight from stress. You looked every bit the rock goddess the label hoped to paint you as, and the exact opposite of the nerves currently threatening to overtake your body.

“Y/N, I can feel you vibrating from here. Take a deep breath. It’s gonna be fine.” Rich commented from beside you. His legs were splayed out, his arms bent behind his head. Looking as relaxed as can be, as if he were on his couch at home catching a movie marathon, about to doze off.

“How can you be so calm right now?” You rush out. “Who knows how many people are going to see this interview. Do you know how many times a day I accidentally let the F word fly out of my mouth?”

Rich lets out a snort. “I happen to know exactly how much you curse, thank you. Yesterday you said fuck 3 times in one sentence. It was charming, my mom loved it.” He moves his right arm to squeeze around your shoulders. Usually, it would be a comforting display of friendship, but you shake it off.

“And look at those three. Already so at home, I see.” You nod to the three other members of the band. Steve is exuding energy like yourself, but it’s excitement that bubbles from him. His eyes flit around the room quickly as he taps out some unknown rhythm on his bent legs. A wide grin permanently fixed on his boyish features.

At the far end of the couch, Eddie and Lawrence are wrapped up in a not-so-silent game of knuckles.

“Son of a-- Will you take off those damn rings? It’s my turn and I’m still getting bruised.” Lawrence huffs. Eddie wiggles his long, skilled, silver-clad fingers in front of his face and raises his eyebrows. “It’s all about the look, baby. Gotta play the part of the guitar god.”

“Will you both knock it off.” You call over to them. “We need both those sets of hands in playing shape for tomorrow night.”

Eddie turns, probably to counter with some playful comment about how you mother them too much, but Alan approaches.

“Alright, guys. And girl.” He flashes his perfectly white teeth your way again. “We’re about 5 minutes out from going up. Anybody need anything? Water, vodka, beer…” He turns his gaze to Steve, who is still tapping lightly on his legs. “A Xanax, perhaps?”

“Waters all around would be great, thanks.” You offer. Alan nods to a twitchy PA waiting to his side and they hurry off.

“Oh wait up, a Bud Light too, if you have any!” Eddie calls after them. The other three boys echo the same as well.

“You can take the boys out of Long Island…” you mutter to yourself. Rich teasingly pokes your side. “And something stiff for the lady!” He shouts out.

“In all manner of ways” Steve giggles. You feign a shocked expression and reach over to place a gentle slap to the side of his head. He looks over with big apologetic eyes and you stifle a laugh.

In record time, the lanky PA rushes back over with a myriad of drinks, all threatening to topple over on the tray they were precariously balanced on. Another PA trails behind, handing you all water, which you’re in desperate need of. They hand the drinks out one by one and stop before you. “Your water, Miss. And I didn’t know what you liked so I have a jack and coke, a whiskey sour, and a gin and tonic.”

“The gin and tonic is great, thanks.” They hurriedly hand you the drink and go to turn away. “Love your hair by the way.” You tell them. “I’m absolute shit at styling mine. Guess I’ll have to learn now.” They smile back at you and run a hand through their short locks before disappearing amongst the rest of the crew.

“Okay, we’re ready to rock n’ roll!” Alan exclaims, getting the band’s attention as he sits down in a chair next to your side of the couch. “We’re going to start off with a few basics on the band. Your lower thirds will have your instruments labeled but feel free to explain how you guys started out, your influences, your process. I’ll prompt you in between and then we'll talk about the album and promote your upcoming tour towards the end. Should take 15 minutes tops, so keep your answers brief. But I won’t say no to any rowdy stories you want to throw in.” He finishes with a wink.

The band nods along as you gulp down a breath, your palms becoming even slicker. The stage manager’s high voice rings out around the studio. “Playback ready! Live to tape in 5.. 4...” Rich places a hand over your knee and gives a squeeze. “Light em’ up, Bun” he mutters in your ear.

“3.. 2..” She holds up a finger and then points it at Alan, a wide smile already set on his face. The camera light flicks red as the MTV open plays from speakers around the room. Alan beings as the song fades out.

“We’re here in the studio and boy, am I excited to get to know this next band. Over at MTV we’ve been watching the steady rise of their single “Heart of the Night” on the charts. And as an added surprise, they’re here to introduce their very first music video. I’m very pleased to welcome to the studio, Lo & The Limbs!”

You try to relax your face as a camera pans across the band and settles on a two-shot of you and Alan. You know your eyes are gleaming with anxiety so you glance down the couch, silently praying for one of the boys to take the lead.

“Thanks for having us Alan, it’s such a trip to be here.” Eddie says with ease, resting his forearms on his knees.

“So, I have to ask. Who is Lo? Is it you Lawerence?” Alan questions the piano player.

“Oh god, no.” Lawrence chuckles. “Our high school was affectionately called Lo High, for Long Island HighSchool of the Arts. So we sort of tacked that on while playing during those years to let people know where we were from. That and well, as you can see we’re all above 6 foot except for Y/N, so a lot of limbs going on here.”

Alan gives a short laugh. “You released your debut album, Quiet Lies, earlier this year to growing success. Why don’t you tell me how you all started out.”

“Well, the boys and I have been together for a few years. We’ve been friends since grade school and we always just used to jam about. As we got older we started playing local bars back on Long Island to mostly middle-aged crowds, trying to break in, but it wasn’t working. Then Rich had the idea to invite Y/N to join up and it’s all kind of all taken off from there.” Eddie explains.

“We needed a pretty face to balance out all these ugly mugs” Steve pipes up.

“It took a while for her to finally concede though. She was off being too studious for the likes of us.” Rich adds on with a smile and nudge to your side. Your eyes grow wide as you feel a question directed at you coming on.

“Is that true, Y/N?”

“I- I guess, I was at NYU studying documentary filmmaking.” You choke out, but continue on. “Love this lighting set up, by the way, it really hides all sins.” That gets a light chuckle out of the crew surrounding you.

“And these sins you’re hiding are…” Alan grins but quickly bounces to the next topic. “Certainly a good call, Rich. Heart of the Night is the only song off the album that Y/N is singing lead on and look how well it’s doing. How did that happen?”

“Most of our songs were already written from before when we finally got the money to record. We wanted Y/N to feel a part of it, so she went on and wrote Heart of the Night and we were all very pleasantly surprised that it’s become such a hit.” Steve explains. “She also directed the music video we’ll be debuting today. I can’t believe she let us do all the things we did in that… well, you’ll just have to see for yourselves. We can be a bit of a handful.” The boys all chuckle.

“That and she plays the weirdest collection of instruments. Rhythm guitar, any type of strings, the saxophone… She's a boss on the harmonica.” Eddie turns to you as he speaks. “You just need to get over those pesky little nerves about your singing, Bun!” He points in your direction.

You feel the heat rise behind your perfectly painted cheeks at the slip of your nickname. You cast your gaze down at your lap. Not liking how the conversation has turned directly onto you.

Alan quirks an eyebrow at you. “Bun?” He teases.

You have yet to lift your eyes when Rich answers for you. “Bunny, an affectionate nickname. It’s stuck around since grade school when she wandered into Lawrence's backyard in search of a rabbit she was chasing.”

“A rockstar called Bunny. There’s a first for everything.” Alan quips, but quickly notices your displeasure in the current topic. Sensing your growing panic, he addresses the rest of the group. “This has been quite the debut album, with more hits sure to come from it. Any bands you’ve taken inspiration from while writing and producing?”

Rich jumps at the question. “Fleetwood Mac would be a big one. The way they layer their sounds is just unmatchable. You catch something new with every listen of an album of theirs.”

“I can’t be a pianist from Long Island and not mention the granddaddy, Billy Joel.” Lawrence adds. “His songs take you on such a ride. They’re full stories, each one of them.”

“And you, Y/N?” Alan directs the next question. “Who will you be drawing inspiration from when you write your next hit single?”

You smile to yourself. “It’s gotta be Queen for me. I’ve loved every one of their albums. I mean, the way they’ve changed their sound just in the past few years alone. They’re always transcending. Never afraid to try out something new or weave a different genre into one of their songs. But you always know it’s a Queen song. I saw them 2 years ago when they played the Garden, and fu--” You catch yourself as you get more animated. “And they were all just so on. Perfectly in sync. There’s something so distinct about their sound, so practiced. I’d love to get to their level, to be able to experiment like that. To give joy in the way they’ve given it to me.” You finish. Realizing you’ve rambled for a bit, you turn your eyes downwards yet again.

“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you talk since you came into the studio!” Alan laughs. “Well, you heard it here first folks, Y/N L/N is a Queen fan, just like the rest of us. I’m sure you’re just as excited about their new album as well.” You nod quickly as Rich hides a smile. Knowing full well you’ll be first in line to purchase their new album, Hot Space when it drops.

“But before you get off to writing more hits, I believe you have a tour coming up!” Alan states, signaling that the interview is wrapping up.

“Yeah, we have a small American tour starting in February. But until then we’ll be opening up for Hall and Oates during their tour of the NorthEast next month.” Steve says excitedly, bouncing slightly in his seat.

“And with that, I think we’ll roll into the long-anticipated music video and directorial debut for the lovely Y/N L/N. Thank you all so much for coming in today and I can’t wait to see what’s next on the horizon for you. Here’s Lo & The Limbs with Heart of the Night!” Alan keeps his painted smile till the red light vanishes from above the lens on the large pedestal camera in front of him.

You breathe out the breath you’d been choking on as Rich puts an arm around your shoulders. He leans in and whispers lightly, “And only one hint of a fuck, ladies and gentlemen. She might just make it in this business after all.”

- - - - - - -

One Month Later - Veterans Memorial Coliseum - New Haven, Connecticut

The Limbs bound off the stage in full force, glistening with sweat and excitement. It was the largest crowd they’d played for by far. 10,000 people cheered from the audience as roadies and crew moved around them to set up for the main act, Hall and Oates. Rich spreads his long arms and huddles the rest of the group into a family hug, your skin sticking to one another, the smell of sweat filling your noses.

“I just want us to all remember this moment.” He speaks to the group, foreheads touching. “Even if nothing happens past this album. That was insane.”

“Absolutely bonkers, dude!” Steve says and he bounces up and down beside you. You all take a deep collective breath and squeeze.

“Alright, get off of me you fucks.” You laugh, untangling yourself from their vast expanse of limbs. “We all stink and I have to get out of all... this” You gesture to the skin-tight bodysuit your best friend, Dawn, had insisted you wear. Eddie presses a light kiss to your temple as he lets you into the dressing room first to change out of their view.

You close the door and sigh, glancing at yourself in the mirrors that line one wall of the room. Your eyes are bright, your hair is two times the size of when you went out on stage an hour before, and your makeup looks like you’d been in a fight. Grinning to yourself, you start to unlatch the halter top of the bodysuit, excited for the air to cool your skin.

Just as you are about to shimmy out of the rest of the ensemble, the door bursts open.

“Shit! Lawrence, what the hell?!” Scrambling to cover your top half.

Lawrence trains his eyes to the ceiling as he speaks. “Bunny, you gotta… just cover up and get your ass out here. You just... You gotta see, c’mon.”

Flustered, you hurry to redress your sticky body. After making sure everything is properly covered, you step out into the hallway backstage, already glaring at the boys. They’re all tight-lipped, staring at one another. “Okay, someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” You say loudly. “Shhhhh” Rich hisses as he gestures behind him with a shake of his head. You glance over his shoulder to see the backs of two men. John Hall and Daryl Oates.

“Yeah, okay... I don’t get it. We’ve hung out with them like 5 times. Why are we fangirling?”

Rich widens his eyes at you and you glance back at them again. This time they part and you can catch a glimpse of who they’ve been talking to.

The flash of a tight leather jacket, a mustache, and two front teeth shining while laughter erupts from behind them.

You gasp.

“Fucking, fuck. That’s Freddie fucking Mercury.” You say, a bit too loud.

The bold man in question locks eyes with you. Something mischievous dances behind them as he narrows his gaze. Daryl and John move to their roadies to get fixed up before heading out on stage and Freddie lets out a sharp burst of laughter as he makes his way over. Your stomach churns with embarrassment but you can’t tear your eyes from his.

“Quite the redundancy of expletives, my dear. All you had to do was say hello.” he grins at you, all teeth. You’re not one to get too clammy in front of other musicians, but your voice gets trapped in your throat. You pray to whatever gods are out there that your eyes don’t get any wider.

Eddie’s easy charm luckily saves you. “This beautiful songstress right here is Y/N L/N.” You barely lift your arms as Freddie pulls you in for a light hug and kiss on the cheek. “But you can call her Bunny.” Eddie grins. So much for easy charm you think as you stare daggers into the profile of his face.

“Ha! Bunny? Oh my, that is wonderful.” Freddie chuckles. “It sounds as if you’re a socialite... Or a stripper. I can’t tell.” He beams at you. You can’t help but beam right back.

“Come along. Let us watch the show and you can tell me which one it is.” He says with a wink. “And introduce me to these giants you call your band.” He grabs your arm and leads you off, the boys in tow. Bouncing with excitement for what’s to come.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

The tale of Robin and Gale Hood; Ben Hardy x reader Chap. 1

*Author’s note*

Okay so firs the gif has NOTHING to do with the story, that was just the 1st gif I saw out of the borhap gifs that was displayed. So this came after the success of my Disney Aladdin AU fic so I decided to do a Robin Hood fic, so as a little cast list for you all here’s what I’ve got. I’ll also update the cast list as each new character is introduced so that none of you get lost. Hope you all enjoy this little AU fic starring our beloved Borhap cast.

Also on a side note, any italics written like this signifies a change in narration where the character of Alan O’Dale speaks his own narration verses what I’ll be writing.

Robin Hood: Rami Malek

Little John: Joe Mazzello

Prince John: Paul Prenter

Sir Heston: voiced by Allen Leech

King Richard (mentioned): Roger Taylor.

Alan O’Dale: Freddie Mercury (think 1975 version of Freddie)

Chapter 1,

Robin Hood and Little John

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queendeakyy​

@queensdivas​

@queen-paladin​

@wormzteef​

@geek-and-proud​

_____________________________________________________________

The legend of Robin Hood.  Ahhh yes, that handsome rouge who robbed the rich to feed the poor, who led a band of Merry men and made their home in Sherwood Forest.  But there is more to the tale than meets the eye, and more people were involved in his rise to fame and glory.  Like me.

Oi I’m over here, the handsome black-haired devil with the harp. Yes hello there my darlings. The name’s Alan O’Dale, and I am a minstrel.  That’s an early day folk singer, I go about parading songs from town to town, kingdom to kingdom about brave knights, fierce battles, and of course my favorite stories, love stories.

And do I have two of the best love stories to share with you lovely darlings.  Thankfully it all takes place at the same time so I don’t need to run my mouth on for very long.  Anyways let’s first open our tale up to two dashing young men walking through the forest.

Two of the best friends anyone could ever ask for.  These two young men were known other than Robin Hood and Little John.  Now it didn’t start it off that way at first, those two chuckleheads always kept crossing each other’s paths as children and constantly argued and fought over territory, women, you name it.

But when they reached their late teens, Robin was one day captured by the despicable, ugly, and revolting Sheriff of Nottingham.  Fortunately with the help of an additional 3rd party, Robin was saved from the hangman’s noose and from then on, Robin and Little John were the best of friends. You don’t believe me, let me sing you a little something.  

Tuning the harp, Freddie then begins to play an uplifting little tune as he begins to sing.

Robin Hood and Little John walkin' through the forest Laughin' back and forth at what the other'ne has to say Reminiscin', This-'n'-thattin' havin' such a good time Oo-de-lally, oo-de-lally, golly, what a day

Never ever thinkin' there was danger in the water They were drinkin', they just guzzled it down Never dreamin' that a schemin' sheriff and his posse Was a-watchin' them an' gatherin' around

Robin Hood and Little John runnin' through the forest Jumpin' fences, dodgin' trees an' tryin' to get away Contemplatin' nothin' but escape an' fin'lly makin' it Oo-de-lally, oo-de-lally, golly, what a day Oo-de-lally, oo-de-lally, golly, what a day

Deep in the forest on top of a tree there hid two young men in their mid to late-20’s.  One was a pale white man with long shoulder length auburn brown hair.  His eyes were a mixed brownish-green and he was a handsome young man.

The man beside him was around the same age, if not slightly older and had skin that almost seemed to be kissed by the sun.  His eyes were an intense blue color that could almost hypnotize you and at the same time make you feel relaxed.  His short jet black hair topped off his head.

Together the two of them wore a similar green and brown clothes. Similar to a ranger’s outfit.  Fit to camouflage them within the forest terrain, but also enough layers to keep them warm from the elements be it rain, sleet, snow and hail.

The two young men watched as the Sheriff of Nottingham and his men gave up on the search after losing them and retreating back to the city. Once they fled the forest, the two men threw themselves back against the top of the tree branches and laughed their heads off.

“Ohh we sure showed those clowns who the real woodsmen are!” boasted Little John.

“Indeed we have Little John.” It was then Little John saw on top of his friend’s and boss’ famed yellow hat an arrow sticking right through it.

“I wouldn’t be too quick to boast my friend. Take a look at your hat. She’ll not be pleased to see that.” Robin picked his hat up and his eyes widened in surprise and he said as he took the arrow out and fiddled with the newly made hole in his hat.

“Hello. This one had my name on it didn’t it? They’re getting better you know.” He placed his hat back on top of his head. “You’ve got to admit it, they are getting better.”

“Yeah. And when that day comes the Sheriff will have a rope hanging around our necks.” Little John said gravely.  He then mimed out a hanging as he proceeded to make a brief choking sound.  “It’ll be hard to laugh hanging there Robin.”

“Ha! The Sheriff and his whole posse couldn’t lift you off the ground. En Garde!” he then flicked the arrow right at Little John which went through his own smaller green hat.

“Oi watch it you bastard that’s the only hat she made for me!” Little John exclaimed as he took his hat off the arrow.

“Oh come along my friend. If she can patch mine up a hundred times, she’ll patch yours up as well. At least she won’t kill you for it.” Robin said nonchalantly as he leaned up against the trunk of the tree.

“You know something Robin I’ve been thinking.”

“Thinking that’s a first.” Robin teased.  Little John glared at his friend before saying.

“I’m serious here. Are we good guys or bad guys? I mean our famed mantra of robbing the rich to feed the poor.”

“‘Rob?’” Robin tsked. “That’s a naughty word we never rob. We just—sorta borrow a bit from those you can afford it.”

“Borrow?” Little John chuckled. “Then we truly are in deep debt.” Before Robin could say another word, from the distance the sound of trumpets rang out.

He climbed a few feet higher up the tree till he reached the very top of it.  He could hear the whole ensemble of a band playing in the distance and he chuckled softly.

“Sounds like another collection day for the poor eh Johnny me boy?”

“Yeah. Sweet charity. So, what’s the plan this time my friend?” Robin slid down the trunk to meet back with Little John and together he laid out the plan.

Just a few miles along a dirt road, the royal ensemble was walking through the forest.  The royal band played an up-tempo beat, walking behind them was the royal guard all dressed in their armor and holding their spears.

Some of the guards even carried a very large treasure chest which held the taxes throughout all of England.  Then shortly behind the guards was the royal coach of pure gold, and inside it was the vile, selfish, arrogant, man-child that was Prince John, the younger half-brother of the great King Richard.

An Irish bastard’s son.  Who claimed right to the throne of England after his mother who was Queen. He was inside his coach happily running his hands through all the gold he had collected from the people as he boastfully cheered.

“Taxes! Taxes! Beautiful, lovely taxes!”

“Sire. You have an absolutely skill for encouraging contributions from the poor.” His talking albino python that he had named Sir Heston. He had Heston ever since he found him as a egg abandoned in the woods.  With the help of some magic from the faes, Prince John gave his pet human intelligence and the ability to speak.  And once he gained the throne, he allowed his snake to be his right hand man.

“The coin a phrase, my dear advisor. Rob the poor to feed the rich. Am I right?” The two of them laughed.  “Now tell me, what is the next stop Sir Heston?” Prince John asked as he held the crown of England in his hands.  Heston slithered over to the map and he hummed with interest.

“Why, the next stop is Nottingham sire.”

“Oh! The richest plum of them all. Nottingham.” Heston held a large mirror in his coils and held it up as Prince John placed the crown on top of his head and admired himself in the mirror.  The crown slid off down his face as Sir Heston spoke out.

“A perfect fit sire. Most becoming. You look regal, dignified, sincere, masterful, noble. Chival……”

“Now, now don’t. Don’t overdo it Heston.” Prince John scolded as he adjusted the crown to make it fit upon his head. “There. That does it. This crown gives me a feeling of power! Power!”

“And how well King Richard’s crown sits on your noble brow.”

“Yes indeed I—ah King Richard?!” Prince John first started off before snarling by the end.  Heston gulped and was soon choked by his master as he proclaimed again “I told you to never mention my bastard of a brother’s name!”

“A mere slip of the forked tongue your majesty.” Heston apologized. “But remember we were in this plot together. After all it was your idea that I hypnotize him…..”

“Yes. And send him off on that ridiculous crusade. Ah-ha! Ah-ha!” Prince John laughed along.

“Much to the sorrow of the Queen Mother.”

“Yes! Mother.” Prince John sobbed. “Mother always did like Richard best.” He muttered angrily before proceeding to suck his thumb.

“Your highness, please don’t do that. If you don’t mind me saying so, it’s undignified for a King to suck his thumb.” Heston said to him. He then slithered up to Prince John and his eyes began to shimmer and glow as he said in a low hiss, “Hypnotism can rid of your psychosis….so…..easily…..” Prince John began to slowly relax but he quickly snapped out of it.

“None of that! None of that!” he shouted at his snake advisor.

“Well I was only trying to help.” Heston said annoyed.

“Help. Help indeed. Now, now one more stunt like that Heston, and you will be walking to Nottingham.”

“Snakes don’t walk they slither. So there.” Heston muttered angrily as he slithered back onto his tree-like pole and lay there pouting.

Racing through the woods putting on their disguises was Little John in the lead.  He wore a long blood red gypsy dress that revealed his shoulders.  Once he got into the dress, he took out a few rings and placed them on his finger as well some anklets, earrings, and he quickly tied a purple sash around his waist to finish off the look.  

While behind him, Robin wore a long blue dress that was fit for an elderly woman and had a long black wig on.  He placed a couple of earrings on his ears and had a bandana tied to his head.

As the two of them stopped behind a tree, they saw the royal band coming in as well as the guards and the coach which held Prince John inside.

“Well this is a letdown. It’s only a circus. A peanut operation.”

“Peanuts? Why you dunce that’s the royal coach. It’s Prince John himself.” Robin snapped as his friend.

“Prince John. Alright you and her might be crazy enough to actually rob royalty but I am not having it. I’m gone!”

“What? And miss this chance to perform before royalty?” Robin said as he stepped in front of Little John. Quickly placing his hands over Little John’s fake breasts before backing off and doing a grand twirl of his blue dress.  Little John rolled his eyes as he sighed.

“Here he goes again.” They waited till the coach got closer before stepping out and waved their arms in the air trying to get the attention of the Prince.

“Oo-de-lally! Oo-de-lally! Fortune tellers!” Robin proclaimed masking his voice to sound like an elderly woman’s voice.

“Fortunes, forecasts, lucky charms!” Little John proclaimed making his voice go an octave higher to sound like a woman’s.

“Get the dose with your horoscope!” Robin called out again. Prince John pulled back the curtains hearing the proclamations of the two ‘women’.

“Fortune tellers, how exciting! Stop the coach.” He ordered the guards as the entire royal party stopped their marching.

“Sire, sire. They maybe bandits.” Sir Heston whispered to his master.

“Oh poppycock. Female bandits, what’s next? Rubbish.” Prince John scoffed.  He turned back to the two ladies who bowed before him and he said. “My dear ladies, you have my permission to kiss the royal hands. Whichever you like.” Both Robin and Little John stared wide-eyed once they saw the size of the jeweled rings that rested along the prince’s fingers.

“Hmm. Oh how gracious. And generous of you your majesty.” Robin said as he lowered his head to kiss the Prince’s left hand while sneaking off a ring from his tall finger.  Sir Heston who had seen the ring being taken whispered in Prince John’s ear.

“Sire! Did you see what…..”

“Stop! Stop hissing in my ear!” Prince John scolded as he rubbed his left ear.  Little John kissed right over the four rings on the prince’s right hand, secretly taking the jewels right off their encasement.  Heston began stammering in the Prince’s other ear which made the Prince proclaim and rub his other ear like he did his last one.

“Heston! You’ve hissed your last!” he took his python by the neck and slammed him into a basket before closing it and sitting on top of it. “Suspicious snake.” He hissed lowly.

“Masterfully done. Ehh your excellency. Now the fun can truly begin.” Robin tempted the Prince as he climbed into the coach with Prince John and closed the curtains.  He turned the lanterns down low and said to him, “Now close your eyes and concentrate.”

Prince John closed his eyes as Robin continued to tell him to close them tighter and not to peek.  He looked around the room until he found the pile of gold, he did a soft chuckle before chanting out.

“From the mists of time, I call forth ye spirits.” Outside the coach, Little John had a glass bowl tied to a string that was attached to a pole.

“Alright you little fireflies. Glow, glow.”

“We’re waiting!” Robin sung out.  That’s when Little John sent the bowl inside and he could hear Robin gasp. “Look sire! Look!”

When the prince opened his eyes, he saw three floating spirits within a crystal ball.  He was in pure awe as he said.

“Incredible. Floating spirits.” He went to touch the ball until he was slapped by Robin.  He chuckled a soft witchy cackle as he said.

“Naughty, naughty. You mustn’t touch young man.”

“Well how dare you strike the royal hand I—”

“Shh, shh, shh. You’ll break the spell just gaze into the crystal ball.” Robin took the ball with the fireflies and set it down on the table between him and the prince.  Robin then began chanting in an ancient Arabic tongue before letting out a gasp. “A face appears.”

The Prince immediately looks closer at the crystal ball intrigued.

“A crown sits on his noble brow.”

“A crown! Oo-de-lally how exciting!”

“His face is handsome, regal, majestic, loveable, a cuddly face.” From outside Little John heard all the comments Robin was laying on the Prince and could help but mime out a gag and roll his eyes.  Especially when the Prince began agreeing with everything that was said about him.

Robin then went for the treasure while the Prince was in his own head.  But as soon as he reached out his hand for the bag of gold, Heston who had found a weak spot on the basket poked his head out and actually struck out at Robin’s hand.

Biting his lip as he quickly retreated his hand to see it bleeding from the snake’s bite.  He let out a pained groaned which got the attention of the prince.

“Now what?” he asked impatiently.  Robin swallowed his pain and chuckled softly.

“I—I see your….illustrious name.”

“I know my name! Get on with it!” the Prince cried impatiently.

“Your name will go down, down, down in history of course!” Robin said as he struggled to take the bag of gold from Heston, who had it wrapped around his tail, but with a finally good tug, Robin managed to get the gold and send it towards Little John through the back curtains of the coach.

“Ahh! I knew it! I knew it! You hear that Heston!? Oh no you can’t he’s in the basket.” He then banged the side of the basket and said to his snake, “And-and-and don’t you forget it.”

Meanwhile outside, Little John slowly circled around the coach when he took notice of the solid gold hubcaps on the wheels of the coach.

“Hmm now that’s what I call pure gold hubcaps.” He looked around and stood in front of the back one and unscrewed it from the wheel and shoved it up the back of his dress.  He then moved over to the front on and did the same thing. “Oo-de-lally the jackpot.” He muttered softly as he eyed the royal treasure.

However it was completely surrounded and carried by guards.  Little John pondered for a bit but remembered a trick that he learned from a friend of his.

The one sure fire way to get a man’s attention away from their post.

He whistled out to the guards and when they turned and saw him, their mouths immediately dropped and their eyes widened.  He slowly and seductively untied the purple sash from his waist and began to do a seductive dance.

Shimming his shoulders and swaying his hips back and forth. Little John was light on his feet as he leaped and hopped about like a graceful deer.  He then skipped on over to the first guard who was just in awe.

Little John wrapped the purple sash around the guard’s neck pulling him in a little closer.  Close enough to kiss him.  But to tease him, he shoved the guard’s helmet over his face before retreating back and flaunted the guard, who was still hypnotized by Little John’s performance.

He twirled around before suddenly dropping down into a full split.  The guards now began to hoot and holler as they applauded, dropping the treasure. Little John then went up to another guard and took his spear out of his hands and jammed it into the ground.  

With the grace of a deer, Little John then began to spin and slid down the spear’s long pole before ending with a pose with his right leg high in the air and he winked at the guards who were now applauding and whistling.

“Ohh stop it. Stop it you boys are too much.” Little John spoke his woman voice.

“That was the best show we have ever seen.” Said one of the guards.

“Well gentleman. It was my pleasure to dance for you. But of course every bit of contribution helps. For you see I—oh I just can’t say it.”

“What is it?” asked another guard.

“No it’s—it’s too painful to speak about.” The guards feeling sympathetic for this beautiful woman all started speaking up and telling ‘her’ that they wanted to hear her story. “Well…..I wasn’t always like this. My husband was beating me, cheating me, then left me all alone with no money. That’s when I—I forced myself to flee even without a cent to my name. That’s when I found Ms. Olga, the elderly gypsy woman I came with. But even then we—we hardly get by with enough food for you see…..I found myself pregnant at the time I left.”

These men were falling for the story hook, line and sinker. It was then one of the guards took the treasure chest and slid it over to Little John.

“Please, take it all.” Little John gave the young guard a surprised look and he said.

“Oh no I couldn’t possibly take all this.”

“Please. My—my mum had to raise me on her own when my father left her. For you and your baby.”

“Ohh you sweet thing.” He stroked the side of the guard’s cheek and Little John dragged the royal chest away from the guards.

As he came around the corner of the carriage, he felt someone bump into him which knocked him over the chest.  He turned around and saw Robin wearing Prince John’s royal cape and surrounded by a bunch of gold pieces that had fallen out of a bag that lay on the ground.

“Nice robes your majesty.” Little John teased, his normal accent finally coming out.

“And what of you, you vulgar young hussy. I heard all the wolf whistles and cheering. I could hardly keep the Prince under my hypnosis to swipe his clothes and gold.”

“Never mind that. Just gather the gold and then help me with this.” Robin and Little John then worked together to put as much gold pieces back in the bag as possible.  Robin stuffed the bag into his dress then both he and Little John picked up the chess and quickly raced off.

Prince John who had woken up from his dazed state, saw the two gypsy women running away from the scene, the elderly woman wearing his robes. He looked down and saw that he was in his undergarments.

“ROBBED! I’VE BEEN ROBBED! HESTON! YOU’RE NEVER AROUND WHEN I NEED YOU!!” Heston slithered out of the basket and raised half his body length up and looked the prince up and down. “I’ve been robbed.” He choked out as he covered himself up.

“Of course you’ve been robbed!” Heston hissed.  Far in the forest, Robin was gleefully chanting as he and Little John made their escape with the royal treasure.

“AFTER THEM YOU FOOLS!” Prince John proclaimed.  The guards now realizing they had been tricked, immediately took off running.  The carriage soon began to chase after Robin and Little John, unfortunately due to the missing hubcaps, the wheels began to pop off which made Prince John hop out of his carriage and fall straight into the mud.

Leaving him stranded in the middle of the forest trail alone with Heston.  He sobbed as he pounding the ground whining like a child.

“I knew it. I knew this would happen. I tried to tell you but no, no you wouldn’t listen. You just have to—” when Heston realized that he had angered the Prince, he began stammering as he tried to warn the prince as he now held a very large mirror, “Seven years bad…..” he then had the mirror smashed onto his head. “Luck. That’s what that is. Besides, you just broke your mother’s mirror.”

“Ahhh! Mummy!” Prince John whined as he began to suck his thumb once again.  He took it out of his mouth as he said solemnly, “I’ve got a dirty thumb.”

[tiesandtea]

Mr. Lazy – fanzine interview with Alan Fisher, December 2004

intrepid suede globetrotters elina and sirje conducted this interview with alan fisher, the man about whom songs like "lazy", "high rising", "beautiful loser" and, according to the man himself, "the most of the others as well" have been written. (editor's note: not to suggest that alcohol played any part in this q&a session, but it did take place in alan's local. oh, and in other locations in the uk, plus morocco & finland, in both oral & written forms. anyway, surely worth all the so-called trouble.) no animals, be they cats or terrapins, were harmed during this interview, but a considerable amount of wine bottles did get destroyed.

how long have you known brett? where did you grow up?

i have known brett since i was 16/17 – near on 20 years now. i grew up in sussex, near haywards heath.

how does it feel that so many of brett’s lyrics are about you? (did you ever get the feeling that brett was just kind of observing you or waiting around for you to do something flamboyant so that he could write about it?)

it’s very flattering to know that some lyrics are about me. however i was never aware of brett observing me purposely to get lyrics or ideas for songs. it’s funny because there are so many songs that are very personal to me, and you think some part of the song is about you, and they are not. over the years many friends who have been in close contact with brett and the music think that songs are about them, because of various lyrical content. i think brett has ability to take elements from friends’ lives or chapters and create a story blended together, a fusion of characters in one song. i remember when i heard “the big time” and the last line – “now we’re in the big time and you’re in the way” i was extremely put out, i took it very personally. i thought it referred to me, but luckily it didn’t. however i’m pleased to say that my favourite song has to be “lazy”. the original version i think went like this – “here they come with their make up on as lovely as the birds come and see them” which i think is very beautiful. which changed to “here they come gone 7 am bla bla bla”, which was about being up all night, then putting on make up so as to hide the effects of being on a bender, and going down to off-license to buy cornflakes and bottles of red wine.

what was the best experience traveling with suede? (what happened in las vegas?)

difficult question, as i’ve had many amazing experiences on tour with suede. two very contrasting escapades were one journey in japan, and one on the west coast of america. brett and myself had the fortunate experience of visiting a buddhist temple in japan called the “moss gardens”. we visited a temple that was so beautiful and peaceful, and the entire gardens were immersed in moss with beautiful ponds and waterfalls. we sat in the temple and wrote a mantra admist buddhist chanting, which i believe influenced the song “introducing the band”. the other experience was a trip to la, san francisco and las vegas. i seem to remember i hadn’t been to bed for a few days, and when i was there i didn’t sleep much for various reasons. we stayed at a friend’s house in beverly hills called michiko, a house of pure opulence, with plenty of alcohol and other fineries. i seem to remember that towards the end (in vegas) brett wouldn’t let me sleep – just more alcohol. and i think that when i went to bed brett checked to make sure i was alive.

what will/do you miss the most about suede?

the thing i miss the most about suede is being around when a great song is created. i’d come home and brett would say “i’ve got it.”, some missing song on the album and consequently we would stay up night after night listening to the same song over and over – the poor neighbours.

at what part of his career was brett at his happiest?

when he was writing happy songs. actually i don’t think brett ever made happy songs. only joking! i don’t know when brett was actually the happiest. i think maybe when the band first started and the first album came out, that’s when he realised his dreams were coming true.

has brett being famous ever bothered you?

brett being famous has never bothered me; in fact it’s been quite a relief; it’s taken the limelight away from me.

fame can and has certainly changed many people who obtain it. how do you think it's affected brett over the years? has it affected your friendship?

i don’t think fame has changed brett’s fundamental characteristics, obviously it has shaped his life aspects like walking down the street, or having a drink in pub. i think living with me for so long has definitely fucked him up.

is there a lot of divergence between brett's public persona and the man underneath it all?

not really. he’s the same complex, passionate and artistic character at home and on stage, i don’t know about the bedroom though!!

how were the new band members really welcomed?

some dreadful, unmentionable initiation ceremonies.

was brett & bernard getting back together a surprise for you? how do you like the new material? how about brett’s solo material?

not really; they had a magic chemistry together that never really fulfilled its potential. and the new stuff is absolutely great! wait and see!!

what's all this about brett meditating? it was mentioned in the love & poison book.

i haven’t actually read love & poison, which is extremely lame of me, eventually i will. however, i think brett has some interest in meditating, maybe from visiting japan’s buddhist temples and being influenced by their way of living, zen and all that.

is brett good at pub quizzes?

brett, i could imagine, is very good at pub quizzes if he entered them. they have a quiz at our local pub, i think brett and mat osman entered once, and came a very admirable second place, which is no mean feat, because it’s a very professional affair in that establishment.

have there been times when brett did something you wish he hadn't? musical decisions or anything.

i can’t think of anything that resembles a mistake or regret in terms of musical direction. over the years, artists are faced with monumental decisions to make in terms of artistic development; single releases; band commitment and general themes for the forthcoming albums. however, i think brett has the ability to listen to other people’s opinions as well as his own, to come up with the best viable decision. considering the turbulent times of drug taking and various band members coming and going, i don’t think he’s done too badly.

how posh is brett?

how posh is brett – what a strange question – in fact the hardest one i’ve ever been asked! – not at all. crikey, well for somebody that came from a council house and bought second hand records/clothes. he now drinks tea at 4 o’clock in proper bone china tea cups – doesn’t get any posher than that. oh! and he has a butler called jessica rabbit.

does he watch sports on tv?

well it has to be football, brett hates posh sports like cricket & rugby (un)like me. he is very obsessive over the england football team, ipswich and manchester united (because that’s my team, and i always cry when they lose).

what's brett's best quality?

brett’s best quality is having good taste in friends and good taste in music, i.e., suede.

and his worst?

i can’t think of his worst qualities, but i remember the worst thing living with him, he would always become too comfortable on the sofa which would mean i would have to rewind the suede demos and go out and get another bottle of wine from the off-license.

we're sorry this is all about suede/brett... when we start an alan fanzine we’ll interview you about yourself... ok?

ok.

tell us a secret

my favourite colour is black.

how much do suede lie in the interviews? (if you read them)

i’m too busy to read suede interviews, i’ve got my own press cuttings to examine.

what do you think brett would have become without suede?

i’m sure it would have only been with some musical compaction. however, our living arrangements would have resembled something out of “the servant”.

what about you? how much has suede affected you?

suede were the most important thing in my life. as my girlfriend just put it a moment ago whilst i was writing this, it’s like going out with three people: her, me and suede. as i tell her, it could have been worse: i could have been friends with ronan keating.

do you love us? what do you think of suede fans in general? a lovely bunch on whole, or have you had some harrowing experiences with obsessed loonies?

well, i’m a suede fan myself, so i would have to say they are great. obsessed loonies? i am one; i have been stalking brett for 20 years, but he doesn’t realise.

there are lots of mentions of yours and brett's drug use in l&p. is this an accurate characterization of the state of affairs or did it get glammed up a bit for press?

it’s all a myth, i once smoked a joint with brett, it was really far out man! oh, and i snorted some glue at a dinner party once, it was so chic.

tell us something about suede that we don't know.

they are a figment of your imagination!!

tell us something about brett that we don't know.

i know something extremely juicy, real top gossip. but you’re going to have to wait to see whether he meets my blackmail demands.

if you were an animal, what kind of animal would he be? what kind of animal would brett be?

brett refers to me as an electrocuted rabbit, something similar to the mad hatter in alice in wonderland. i think brett would be a very feline cat.

speaking of cats, they tend to go missing, don’t they?

we had a cat called meisk – when brett was on tour it went missing. when i found it on the street, i thought it had a cold because it had a funny meow – it turned out to be the wrong cat. i remember brett was extremely pissed off. we had another cat called sphinx that was an incredibly lively character, it had a long run up – then produced its claws and wham!!

have you ever been arrested?

yes! on several occasions, on suspicion of being sinister and bad influence on society.

dave thompson’s yet-to-be-published suede-book, an armchair guide to suede, includes this: 

"‘young men’ developed out of lyrics written for a joke band, the bruisers, that anderson, his flatmate alan and a hairdresser friend named gary hatched one evening;"

can you tell us anything more about this?

after one crazy night early in the morning we had this inspiration to form a band based on idea of national front skinheads with the title song “british bulldog”. brett and gary were both very amusing and inventive with songs like “santa ain’t a wanker” etc.

besides that, have you ever been musically inclined or in a band yourself?

after hearing brett playing an instrument called the melodica, something like a mouth organ with a pipe attached to it, waking me every morning, it put me off music for life.

what other music are you into besides suede?

sigue sigue sputnik and mozart.

have you and brett ever had a fist fight? have you ever fought over who does the shopping or cleans the toilet or whose dirty plates are in the sink?

we have never had a fist fight in 20 years. however, we once had a duel at sunrise over who was the vainest.

that’s it then. say something nice. or mean. whatever you like. thanks!

stop asking me questions about brett, and more about myself!

Source: Pornographic & Tragic, the official Suede fanzine, issue 2 (December 2004).

[terryballs]

My favourite Doctor Who writers

10. Neil Gaiman

Neil Gaiman is one of the most talented people to ever write for Doctor Who. Of course, talent alone is not enough - Douglas Adams, Alan Moore, and Naomi Alderman all miss out on this list. What makes Gaiman special is his fairytale, fantasy approach to the show. He has big ideas, full of heart, and I am always delighted by them.

Why isn’t Mr Gaiman higher up on the list? Simply because he has only done four stories. One of them, “The Doctor’s Wife”, is an all-time classic, while the others are at least good. With a couple more stories, Mr Gaiman would surely be higher.

9. Paul Magrs

Coming in at #9 is one of the most important writers of non-televised Who. Paul Magrs has written nine Big Finish Main Range stories (most notably “The Peterloo Massacre”), three Companion Chronicles, and two Eighth Doctor Adventures, including the exceptional “The Zygon Who Fell To Earth”, as well as a huge number of spin-off adventures.

It’s in print where Magrs really flourishes, though. It’s quite hard to get across just how influential Paul Magrs has been. Firstly, his three books in the Eighth Doctor Adventures range - The Scarlet Empress, The Blue Angel, and Mad Dogs and Englishmen - are hugely ambitious metatextual delights. These stories introduce Iris Wildthyme and the Smudgelings to the Whoniverse, and have each inspired their own spin-off series, collectively called the “Magrsverse”. Iris’s parody of the Doctor is a rip-roaring delight whenever she appears - and as you know, she’s famous for it - and will prove a lasting legacy for Mr Magrs.

I suppose, at this junction, I should mention Lawrence Miles, who has had a similar influence, but I just don’t find to be quite as good a storyteller as Magrs.

8. Rob Shearman

You probably know Rob Shearman for “Dalek”, the first good New Who story. What if I told you that “Dalek” is Shearman’s worst DW story?

The titles of Shearman’s audio plays are enough to send shivers up the spines of those who have heard them. There’s “Jubilee”, the loose inspiration for “Dalek”, which explores the Daleks as fascist iconography. There’s “The Holy Terror”, where the Doctor and Frobisher the Penguin Shape-Shifter have a similarly horrifying experience with a religious cult. There’s “The Chimes of Midnight”, possibly the definitive Eighth Doctor story, and “Scherzo”, itself perhaps the most experimental story in Doctor Who history, and “Deadline”, in which the villain is Doctor Who itself.

Like many of the writers on this list, Shearman has an eclectic back catalogue full of obscure oddities. But few people have quite his capacity for knocking it out of the park.

7. Chris Chibnall

It’s true that Chris Chibnall’s work before becoming showrunner is inconsistent at best. “42″ is bad and “The Hungry Earth” is uninspired. “Dinosaurs on a Spaceship” is a fun romp, while “The Power of Three” is a great story that is let down by the ending which had to be re-written hastily due to unforeseen production issues. And Chibnall’s contributions to Series 11 range from “fine” (”The Woman Who Fell To Earth”) to “bad” (”The Battle of Ranskor Av Kolos”). But in “Pond Life” and “P.S.”, Chibnall shows that he knows how to write affecting character beats.

It’s in Series 12 that Chibnall really takes things up a step. His stories become sprawling and ambitious: globe-trotting thrillers crammed full of ideas. He’s still occasionally guilty of trying to throw too many ideas in, but his love for the story really shines through. There’s barely a weak moment in Series 12, and that’s largely because Chibnall himself steps up to write or co-write hit after hit after hit. It all culminates in the epic three-part finale, “The Haunting of Villa Diodati”/”Ascension of the Cybermen”/”The Timeless Children”, a hugely ambitious story that crosses space and time and pulls together disparate elements from the history of Who. It’s a million miles from “The Battle of Ranskor Av Kolos”: a fan-pleasing story that is truly epic.

6. Vinay Patel

Why is Vinay so high? Good question. Thinking about it, I can’t really justify this placement. Patel reliably produces great stories - “Demons of the Punjab” alone marks Patel out as a great, and to follow it up with “Fugitive of the Judoon” shows that it wasn’t a fluke. But Mr Patel has only got four stories to his name - the aforementioned TV stories plus “Letters from the Front” and “The Tourist” - so for similar reasons to Mr Gaiman, a high position is difficult to justify.

So instead, let’s give this position to Terrance Dicks. Mr Dicks has a bit of a reputation as more of a “jobbing” writer than someone like Chibnall or Shearman, Terrance Dicks was, first and foremost, a script editor. Yes, he co-wrote “The War Games” and was the sole writer for “Horror of Fang Rock”, but he’s best remembered for script editing the Third Doctor era (and part of the Second Doctor era), as well as producing an absolute mass of Target novelisations. But that’s not all - Mr Dicks has written original novels (VNAs, EDAs, and PDAs alike), Quick Reads, audio stories, two stage plays, and even the Destiny of the Doctor video game.

Sure, Mr Dicks didn’t burn as bright as Mr Patel. But his contribution to the Whoniverse is unparalleled.

5. Nev Fountain

Comedy writer Nev Fountain has written several of the very best Doctor Who stories. For some reason, these stories tend to centre around Peri (Fountain is married to Nicola Bryant). “Peri and the Piscon Paradox” is the best Companion Chronicle by far, due to a combination of great acting by Bryant and Colin Baker and Fountain’s sizzling script. “The Kingmaker” is an outrageously funny historical with incredible dialogue and multiple ideas clever enough to carry a whole story.

Frankly, those two alone should be enough to convince anyone of Fountain’s brilliance. But there is so much more - “The Widow’s Assassin”, “The Curious Incident of the Doctor In the Night-time”, “The Blood on Santa’s Claw”, “Omega“... if you like Doctor Who, make yourself familiar with Nev Fountain.

4. Robert Holmes

More than anyone else, Robert Holmes is responsible for the esteem which the Fourth Doctor is held in.

Holmes first wrote for the show all the way back in Series 6, with “The Krotons”. He wrote the very first Third Doctor story, “Spearhead From Space”, in which he also introduced the Autons. They reappeared a year later in “Terror of the Autons”, which introduced Jo Grant and the Master. In “The Time Warrior”, Holmes introduced the Sontarans, a pastiche of imperialism.

It was in the Fourth Doctor era that Mr Holmes really made his mark. He took over from Mr Dicks as script editor. In his own right, he wrote “The Deadly Assassin” and “Talons of Weng-Chiang”, but he also turned “The Ark In Space”, “Pyramids of Mars”, and “The Brain of Morbius” into usable stories, even appearing in “The Brain of Morbius” as the Doctor.

After stepping back from script editing, Holmes returned as a hack to write stories like “The Caves of Androzani” (probably the most popular story in Classic Who) and “The Two Doctors”, before dying shortly after his 60th birthday.

3. Jamie Mathieson

Putting Mr Mathieson above Mr Holmes really shows my bias towards New Who, but honestly, I’d rather re-watch “Mummy on the Orient Express”, “Flatline”, or “Oxygen” than any of Holmes’ stories. Mathieson is very inventive and extremely good at maintaining pace and tension. I’m sure we’ll get more stories from him in the future, but the ones we have so far should be used as inspiration by anyone wanting to writing exciting Who.

2. John Dorney

It is hard to exaggerate Mr Dorney’s contributions to audio Who. He may lack the external fanbase of Mr Gaiman, the influence of Mr Magrs, or the legendary status of Messrs Dicks, Chibnall, and Holmes, but make no mistake, Dorney is exceptional. In almost every range he tries his hand at - Lost Stories, Novel Adaptations, Third Doctor Adventures, Fourth Doctor Adventures, Fifth Doctor Adventures, Dark Eyes, Doom Coalition, Ravenous, Time War, Companion Chronicles, Short Trips, Jago and Litefoot, Missy, UNIT, Diary of River Song... Dorney reliably writes the best story in the set.

In particular, Dorney’s stories are notable for the way they focus on character drama. Look at stories like “A Life In A Day” or “Absent Friends” for particular examples of stories that use sci-fi concepts to draw emotion out of characters, particularly the stoic Liv Chenka. Other highlights of Dorney’s include “The Red Lady” and the “Better Watch Out”/”Fairytale of Salzburg” two-parter.

1. Steven Moffat

What more is there to say? Moffat is truly exceptional, reliably writing the best stories in TV Who for several consecutive years. The classics are too numerous to list, but the stand outs amongst the stand outs are “Blink” and “Heaven Sent”/”Hell Bent”.

Some of Moffat’s best work comes away from TV. The minisodes “The Inforarium” and “Night of the Doctor”, the novelisation of “Day of the Doctor”, the short stories “Continuity Errors” and “the Corner of the Eye”, and lockdown stories like “Terror of the Umpty Ums” are Moffat deep cuts which deserve to be held in the same regard as his great TV stories.

Moffat’s imagination lead to him creating multiple iconic monsters - foremost amongst them, the Weeping Angels and the Silence. Moffat emphasised the use of time travel within the stories themselves; other themes in his work include memory, perception, paradoxes, identity, sexuality, and responsibility. He is, without a doubt, the greatest Doctor Who writer, and I am so lucky to have lived through the period where he was active.

[achubbydumpling]

Weeping Willows

Rating: Mature Words: 1761 Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Angst, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Alan Deaton Being an Asshole

(I wanted to write smut. It wasn't even about these two. Why the hell is this what I end up with at the end of the night?? Also this does NOT contain chubby kink.)

Stiles’ teeth clashed together when Derek’s body hit the floor. Once the dust had settled, so did a deafening silence. Stiles ran to the ground floor. He couldn’t see Ennis anywhere and the sounds of fighting did not resume upstairs.

Derek lay motionless. Stiles held his breath and walked towards the unmoving body. His eyes were closed. Only when he got within arm’s reach could he finally see Derek’s chest moving ever so slightly. He rushed forward, took a deep breath in, and started checking Derek for injuries.

Read on AO3

“Derek? Hey, man, are you ok? Come on, big guy, the fall wasn’t that bad now, was it?”, Stiles rucked up Derek’s shirt and discovered that a piece of rusty rebar had pierced though Derek’s chest, right beneath the ribs on his left side.

“Ok, I know you’re not supposed to remove the thing doing the stabbing until the paramedics arrive, but since I don’t think you’d go to the hospital anyways, this has to come out. Before you heal over it”, Stiles wiped away the grime on his face, “or something else disgusting.” Stiles finally looked up at Derek’s face. His teeth were clenched, but he nodded.

“Here goes nothing”, he whispered. He barely managed to move Derek’s upper body an inch before his grip slipped and Derek slammed back down onto the concrete.

“Shit. Sorry. How are we gonna get this out?” Stiles leaned closer to the wound and carefully pushed down on the edges.

“Damn, looks like it’s already healing.” Stiles looked back up at Derek’s face. His teeth were still clenched, but then he slowly breathed out and tried to relax.

“Call Deaton.”

“Yeah. Right. Sorry, normally you don’t get him involved like ever.” Stiles pulled his phone from his pocket and nearly dropped it when Derek tried to push himself up from the rebar. Derek fell back down before he could clear the spike. He couldn’t hold back the scream of pain, arching his head into the floor and trying to breathe through it.

“I can’t get up. I can’t let it heal. Deaton’s the only choice.” Stiles swallowed and looked to the upper levels to see if any of the pack were still there.

“Everyone alright?” Derek asked and glanced in the same direction as Stiles.

“They must be going after the alpha pack.” Derek tried to get up again after hearing that, but it was no use. Stiles moved closer to him and put his hand on Derek’s shoulder. Trying to keep him from moving.

“You’re only making it worse. Look it’s bleeding again.” Sure enough, thick dark blood stained Derek’s shirt.

“I’m keeping it from healing, or you’ll have to cut that thing out of me. Would you prefer that?” Stiles shook his head and swallowed again.

“No, ‘course not. I’ll ask Deaton about it, ok? He’ll know what to do, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure.” Derek wheezed a laugh before groaning in pain again. Stiles started pacing when the phone rang for an uncomfortably long time, but eventually Deaton did pick up.

“Stiles, my young protégé.” Stiles bit at his cuticles and shook his head in irritation.

“Listen, I don’t need your mysterious wizard shit right now. I need a veterinarian.” Deaton chuckled at that and took his time to answer.

“Alright,” he drawled. “Where is your alpha stuck right now?”

“The abandoned mall outside town. Ground floor.”

“Ok, I’ll be there. Try to keep him awake, the blood loss might make him a bit drowsy around the three-liter mark.” Stiles glanced down at Derek. His blood had already started pooling on the left side.

“I don’t think he’d be drowsy by then. I think he’d be dead.”

“Oh, don’t worry so much. I’ve had wolves survive worse. I’ll just swing by the clinic to get some supplies. I’ll need maybe an hour.”

Stiles stopped dead in his tracks.

“An hour? I know you’re all high and mighty about your balance-shit or something, but there has to be something like the Hippocratic oath for vets as well. He’ll be dead in an hour. Hear me? You’ll have his blood on your hands if you don’t move your ass.” Deaton chuckled. Again.

“Right, right. Quite feisty today. I’ll make it quick then.”

“Yes, you better—”, but Deaton had already hung up. Stiles gripped his phone tightly and sucked in a breath.

“Don’t let him get to you. He’s just been alive for too long to appreciate mortality.” Stiles kneeled beside Derek and tried to smile, but it made his muscles ache.

“Yeah, right. He’s just a holier-than-thou asshole.” Derek laughed quietly. A cough ripped through him, and he pressed his hands against his side.

“Ok, no more moving around. Deaton said you might get ‘drowsy’ after losing three liters. So, we’re not doing that, ok?” Derek lifted his right hand and gave a thumbs up before relaxing and closing his eyes.

His name is the last thing Derek hears before giving into the darkness of unconsciousness.

+++

Stiles fell back onto the bed. The old coils protested the sudden impact. Derek was still taking his shoes off, but Stiles didn’t call him out on it. They both needed a bit of time to come back to reality.

Apparently, a longer time for Derek because he quietly started laughing. He was staring at Stiles’ nose where a piece of toilet paper was stuffed haphazardly to stop the bleeding. Stiles started laughing at Derek’s ridiculous timing.

“You’re a crazy fucking son of a bitch.” Derek said. It looked like he was rubbing some dirt from the corner of his eye. “Don’t you ever do something that stupid again. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear, captain.” Derek’s expression hardened at Stiles jokey answer.

“Don’t.” He whispered and finally lay down next to Stiles.

“I won’t”, Stiles reassured him, “but I’m alive. So, don’t worry.”

“You’re alive. Still alive.” Derek muttered while brushing back the long strands of hair that were matted to Stiles’ forehead. For a moment the world seemed to stand still. It let Derek take in how lucky they had been tonight. No major wounds, no casualties. Just Stiles and him against the world. And wasn’t that a comforting thought.

This time Derek didn’t look away, not for a second while Stiles was studying his expression. A familiar sense of calm settled over him and slowed his heartbeat. An easy smile settled on his lips, and he was just about to flop down next to Stiles to get a few hours of sleep when Stiles leaned forward on his elbows to get closer to Derek’s face.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

For a second Derek didn’t move at all. Then he breathed out heavily and started laughing again.

“Yes. God, yes.” He gripped Stiles’ head in his right hand and cupped his face, but before he could actually kiss him, he was once again overwhelmed by the ridiculousness of the toilet paper stuffed up Stiles’ nose. A fondness settled in his bones that left him more tired and satisfied than he had ever been before.

“You’re alive. You’re here. You bested the monster of the week.” Derek stroked his thumb down Stiles’ cheek. A yawn overtook Derek’s smile and Stiles said with a fond smile.

“We did. We really did. How about we get some sleep first?” Derek nodded and yawned again.

“There is no one that I’d rather sleep next to.” And Stiles could work with that. More than just work with it.

+++

Derek didn’t look up from his book when Stiles jumped up from the floor.

“Dance with me.”

“I don’t dance.” Was all Derek said.

“I know.” was all that Stiles answered when he took his phone out and opened Spotify.

“How about ‘Come on Eileen’?” Stiles looked at Derek, but before he could say anything he interrupted himself: “No. I know.” Seconds later an all too familiar melody played from the phone’s tinny speakers.

“The quality’s really shit, but I don’t have my speaker and it’s not that important that I—"

Derek hummed in agreement but didn’t look up from his book. An uneasy silence filled the room before Stiles finally broke it.

“Dance with me.”

Derek finally looked up and furrowed his brows.

“I don’t dance.”

“I know.” Stiles nodded his head and smiled wide. He took Derek’s hand, their fingers intertwined without them thinking about it and pulled the book from Derek’s other hand.

When he was pulled up by Stiles, he never stopped looking into his eyes.

“I don’t dance.”

Stiles just smiled and put his arms around Derek’s neck, he leaned in close and gave a quick peck on Derek’s lips. However, when he tried to move away Derek pulled him back into their embrace and kept Stiles about an inch from his face, they didn’t speak. The only sound coming from the small phone speakers.

The intro of the song was just coming to an end and the singer finally croaked out his first words when Derek kissed Stiles again and again and another time. As the chorus started Stiles began gently swaying from side to side while Derek stood still, almost lifeless apart from the storm in his eyes.

He hugged Stiles closer and pressed his face into Stiles’ shoulder, who just laughed quietly and whispered: “Are you doing the weird scent-thing again?” Derek huffed out a breath of air but didn’t answer. “It’s ok, I won’t tell anybody the sourwolf has got a soft side.” Ever so slightly Derek started swaying as well and pulled Stiles even closer.

“This is goodbye, isn’t it?” Stiles nodded into his shoulder

“I’ll see you again.” Derek insisted.

He propped his chin up on Stiles’ head. Stiles knew this tactic.

“It’s a small world.” Derek’s left hand move up to Stiles’ neck and pressed his face into Derek’s shoulder. Stiles sighed and closed his eyes.

“Don’t. Just listen.”

And Derek listened.

They both stayed quiet, just gently swaying like willows in the wind, they were so much like trees. Their roots had grown, not deep nor thick, but it hurt when they were ripped from their earth.

The Nemeton was a constant presence surrounding Stiles by now and Derek could hear its low hum in Stiles’ core. The emissary of this land had been sent on a mission by the Nemeton. An honor.

Derek was quiet for a long time and listened to that dreadful hum. If he could just speak with the tree, but his mom wasn’t here to negotiate with it. And now Stiles was gone too.