#[ i really do need to make new icons though. ugh it's such a time consuming process though ]

[kkaebsongtypo]

01 | m.l | next

why wont you love me // hrj [02]

pairing: renjun x reader

genre: friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, slight angst

wanings/notes: alcohol consumption (all parties are of legal age, drink responsibly!), mentions/symptoms of anxiety, mentions/signs of abandonment issues, jealousy, inspired by the song Why Won't You Love Me by 5sos

(warnings/notes are subject to change and updates if needed.)

word count: 2.1k

Renjun and y/n are an inseparable pair; they know each other like the back of their own hands. For the most part. Renjun keeps his true feelings hidden; y/n refuses to acknowledge their own. Both hold the fear of losing each other. But will one night out and a little too much to drink change everything?

a/n: hello part two is f i n a l l y here- sorry for the super long wait ;-; lmk if you want to be in a taglist ^-^

A week without Renjun and the boys proved to be a lot more difficult than you expected. On any other day, a normal day, you would have Renjun or Jisung on video call to keep you company whilst doing your work, cleaning the house, or just any other task. On any other day, you’d have a few of the boys lounging around your apartment, studying, doing project work, playing video games, spending their time in the comfort of your tidy home if they needed to get away from their own. Most of the time, it didn’t even feel like you lived alone.

Needless to say, with your main group of friends away on their trip, you were bored. With the boys doing their own trip activities, it was hard to get a normal, lengthy video call in. Procrastination was one of your biggest enemies in the deafening silence of your empty apartment. Without the company of your friends occupying your phone, and your current lack of self control, you were sprawled out on your bed scrolling through Instagram, your essay long forgotten.

You sat up abruptly when you opened Renjun’s story and were greeted with a photo of him and a shorter girl wrapped in his arms. Your chest tightened and at their bright smiles. You chewed on your bottom lip as you stared at the photo, the strange sensation in your chest growing. After a few seconds, you decided to close the app, the feeling (which, you concluded to be anxiety) building inside of you became overwhelming very quickly. You placed your phone face down on your bed and slowly laid back against the covers. You stared blankly at your ceiling and drummed your fingers on your bedsheets and chest.

A ding sounded from your phone and your hand flew to grab it. You hesitated to look at the screen though, unsure if you were hoping it was from Renjun or not. Ten seconds passed, and after a deep breath, you look at the message. A sigh fell from your lips when you read the contact name. It was from Jisung. You couldn’t tell if you were relieved or disappointed that it wasn’t Renjun as the anxiety in your chest continued to swirl.

bby chick <3: Are you busy rn bby chick <3: Can u vc bby chick <3: I miss you :(

You felt a pang of guilt for feeling slightly disappointed as you read the younger boys messages. You truly did miss him as well. The situation prior to his messages simply threw you off and into a frenzy of other feelings. Your fingers typed a response quickly.

: I miss you too :( : and no I am not busy, call me <3

It took no longer than 5 seconds for a video call from Jisung to pop up. After a deep breath to push down the previous discomfort within you, you put on a small smile and answered the call. The sight of Jisung’s face lighting up instantly when you appeared on his screen made your smile become more real, the photo of Renjun and that girl being pushed aside for the time being.

“Hii y/n!!” Jisungs voice was lively and excited. The setting sun shone a warm glow on him and the hotel wall. He waved to you, and you waved back.

“Hey Sunggie, how are you doing?” You asked. He didn’t hesitate to respond.

“I’m good, the guys and I miss you tons though! How are you?” Your chest tightened when he returned the question. It always broke your facade at times like this.

“I’m- I’m uh… yeah, I’m good.” Your feeble attempt at seeming okay was unconvincing as hot tears rolled down your cheeks with each blink. The uncomfortable feeling in your chest returned and your breathing quickened. Though your vision was blurred, you noticed Jisung’s expression fall into one of shock and panic.

“Wha- what’s wrong? Are you okay? Why are you crying?” He stuttered, reaching towards the camera as if trying to reach directly to you. You wiped your cheeks frantically with your sleeves and sniffled, a pathetic laugh falling from your lips.

“Yeah, I’m fine! Nothing is wrong, Ji, don’t worry-” Jisung cut you off gently. Tears continued to fall from your eyes involuntarily.

“Y/n… please don’t lie to me… you’re clearly not fine…” Your chest tightened more at the sadness in his voice. He didn’t like seeing you upset, it made him sad seeing his friend in distress. You tried to dry your tears again, but it was no use. With a quiet sigh of frustration, you ran your hand through your hair. There was no use in trying to lie again, your feelings were impossible to hide at this point.

“I- ugh. Yeah, you’re right. I’m not really okay- I’m sorry.” You looked down at your lap, fiddling with your fingers. Jisung furrowed his eyebrows at your apology.

“No!! Don’t be sorry!” He exclaimed. You glanced up at him and slouched further into yourself. Silence filled both of your rooms. You didn’t know what to say. You were embarrassed; your fear of being abandoned was consuming every bit of you with each passing second the longer you stayed in your head. Abandonment issues weren’t something you’ve ever talked about with any of your friends, there was never a reason to. Not until you saw that photo of Renjun.

The silence stayed for what felt like an eternity of being stuck in your own thoughts on a loop. No matter how many times you tried to tell yourself that Renjun would never just drop you out of the blue, the anxiety just pushed back. Part of you says “he wouldn’t.” but the other part of you fights back with “but he could.” It was a never ending loop; spiraling into yourself with no end in sight. Jisung snapped you out of your thoughts with a question that caused your cheeks to burn with anxiety.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You chewed on your bottom lip and tried to sort your thoughts before speaking. Tears began forming in the corners of your eyes again and they fell down your still damp cheeks when you blinked.

“It’s- ahh. It’s just- that photo of Renjun and that girl. It’s like, stupid but I think it was just anxiety saying like ‘oh Renjun found someone new he doesn’t love me anymore’ kind of-” The string of words fell from you lips quickly and in a mess, your insecurities growing and getting the best of you. Your voice cracked and you sniffled before taking a shaky breath and rubbing your eyes, giving Jisung the opportunity to speak. He was hesitant at first, his voice wavering slightly; he wasn’t exactly sure what to do.

“Hey- um- breathe for a second. Can you, uhm, can you show me the photo?” You nodded and picked up your phone to open Instagram. A feeling of dread grew in your chest and stomach as your finger hovered over Renjun’s story. With a deep sigh, you opened the story, the photo popping up on your screen. You stared at Renjun’s smile for a second before tapping on the small paper airplane icon and sending it to Jisung. You waited quietly as Jisung opened Instagram to see the image. You laid on your back and positioned your phone next to you so the boy could still see you when he returned to the call.

While you were swimming in your own variety of conclusions, Jisung stared at the photo you had just sent, unsure of his next words. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, knowing that he could potentially make you feel even worse in one way or another.

“Y/n- oh my goodness. Okay- that’s not- that’s like Renjun’s second cousin. We just met her today!” You stared at your ceiling as Jisung returned to the video call.

“I… are you serious? Oh my gosh.” You groaned, tears beginning to fall faster again. Jisung frowned and furrowed his eyebrows, still hating to see you so upset.

“Yeah! Please don’t cry.” Jisung tried to comfort you as best as he could through a tiny screen. You sniffled and whipped the tears from your face, only for more to fall. He sighed softly, feeling slightly helpless.

“Look, even if that wasn’t his relative, I can assure you that all of us love you and we would never just up and leave you for anyone else. Renjun especially. y/n he…” He paused for a second, trying to pick his words cautiously to avoid exposing any secrets that weren’t his.

“You’re his best friend. He, of all people, would never, ever do that to you.” Your tears began to slow as you listened to Jisung, taking in everything he said. The external rationalization was reassuring, but the ache from the idea of losing Renjun continued to loom deep in your chest.

“I know that your anxiety clouds your judgement sometimes but if I can do anything to help at any time, please let me know.” He paused for a second, quickly realizing that you were keeping quiet.

“But if you can’t talk to me for whatever reason, try to remember what I just said.” You sighed softly. Jisung was really trying, and even though your thoughts continued to run wild, you were grateful for his efforts.

“Thank you, Ji. I really appreciate it. I’m sorry for all that; it was just a huge scare about my best friend leaving me over what turned out to be nothing.” You rolled your eyes at yourself. You jumped to conclusions and got upset over a misunderstanding; you felt foolish. Jisung perked up and was quick to validate your feelings.

“Oh! No, please don’t feel like you need to say sorry for feeling.” He frowned at you and played with his fingers. You pursed your lips and looked down at your lap. Silence lingered for a couple seconds before Jisung spoke up again.

“Um, okay. I’m sorry of this is a dumb question, but like- are you sure that was the only reason for your reaction..?” The question made you tilt your head and bring your eyebrows together in slight confusion.

“Uh? Yes? What do you mean?” Jisung turned away and scratched the back of his neck.

“Ah like, I dunno. The use of best friend- I mean like, are you sure you aren’t like, jealous?” Jisung turned his head down slightly, looking up at you with a careful gaze, nibbling the inside of his lip. Your eyes widened and you blinked a few times. Your lips parted to speak and you raised your eyebrows, but the words got caught in your throat. Why is this so hard to answer? You furrowed your brows for a second, regaining your composure enough to form some sort of coherent sentence.

“Oh- well I mean I guess maybe?? But no. What?? He’s my best friend and he’ll always be my best friend.” You tripped over your words as they came out in a mess. Your heart sped up and your cheeks warmed slightly. What is happening?? Jisung furrowed his eyebrows and tugged at his fingers as words began falling from his lips.

“Right- I’m sorry-” He started to panic, but you cut him off softly before he could ramble an apology.

“It’s fine Jisung, don’t worry about it.” You sent him a small, half smile. He chewed on his bottom lip and averted his gaze. Without letting the guilt-filled silence linger, you sighed and clapped your hands together.

“Enough about this stuff. Tell me more about the trip, what have you been up to?” You smiled softly. Jisung looked at you hesitantly and you nodded; an attempt at reassuring him. He took a second and raised his eyebrows before breaking into a smile.

“Well, the day after we arrived we just sort of slept in, but in the afternoon we went into the city...” You smiled as enthusiasm filled his eyes again, but his voice became mere background noise as you got lost in your thoughts once more. Jisung’s previous question coming back and lingering in your mind; “are you sure that was the only reason for your reaction?”

Renjun is my best friend. I don’t want anything more.

You did your best to shake it from consuming you, wanting to focus on Jisung instead. But the tiniest voice in the back of your mind repeated in a loop, Renjun is my best friend. I don’t want anything more. Right?

Taglist: @lolibaaae @currentlyraisinghell

a/n: let me know if you want to be part of a tag list ^-^

disclaimer: updates will be stagnant. thank you for understanding :)

[ddarker-dreams]

I absolutely love your writing! 👉👈 Much love and support! ❤️

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR SUPPORT !! i love your beidou pfp ... she is the most beautiful girl... 💖

anon 2 said: NOT ME ENTERING YOUR TUMBLR EVERYDAY TO SEE IF YOU POSTED SOMETHING NEW... 🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️ NOT ME, NOPE! WRONG BITCH! 🤨 plssss i love your writing and i love you because your mind is spectacular thank u so much for this content 🧎🏻‍♀️

i’m happy to provide content for us parched folk... it means a lot to know that you check my blog for updates everyday though omg hjktrgme i’ve done that over the past few years with my favorite blogs!! so to know someone would do that for me... my heart <33 thank you so much <33 

anon 3 said: That scaramouche fic was just 😍👌 really hot 10/10 ahhh you brought out the asshole in him so well. Like I seriously think he's straight up one of the more nastier and meaner characters and omg you just made me love him now 😳

scaramouche is probably one of the more sadistic yanderes in my arsenal . i’m generally not drawn to those types too much since i’m a bit of a weenie, but scaramouche is the exception to that rule. i’m not sure why that is honestly? i think it might be in part due to his japanese voice being from one of my favorite voice actors or smth. ANYWAYS i’m obsessed with writing for him and i’m excited to do more. <333

anon 4 said: Your writing gives me life🙏 I finally reached the golden house battle and got to see Tartaglia as the scary harbinger that he is and I truly feel like you got his character down! UGH thinking about it makes me so excited! I'm so thankful for your writing 😭

EVERY TIME I SEE HIM I’M JUST 😳 i can’t think of him any other way than how he is in my yan genshin universe. i’m happy to know that my writing had such an impression on you!!! honestly, the lines in that fight feel fitting for yandere?? especially the delivery of them. 

“Well then, amuse me.” 

“Surrender is a valid option, I promise I’ll be gentle.” 

LIKE?? i’ve got to sneak a reference to these into a fic somewhere. they’re yan and no one can convince me otherwise. 

anon 5 said: I've been following for a while and I just think its kind of iconic how the timeline of the series you mainly write for at a given point almost perfectly matches my hyperfixation for that same time frame.

ANON HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN ON THE JOURNEY WITH ME FOR,, it’s funny that you mention this because i’ve wondered if anyone has who had tagged along for some time now goes through the same cycles i do. i have a habit of intensely focusing on a particular media for around 1-2 years and just wanting to create/consume content for it nonstop. i’m glad you’ve continued to stay anon, our minds are one and the same!!! 

anon 6 said: Heya wanted to say that I love your Childe fics so much!!! Keep up the good work! I also really like your Kaeya fics too!! You really need to write more of both of them lol

thank you so much anon!!!! i love writing for childe, his dialogue is just too much fun to figure out. i’m hoping i’ll get around to writing a full fledged kaeya fic sometime soon! for whatever reason, i have more of a difficult time writing kaeya... i haven’t settled on a characterization i’m fully happy with yet. still, i’ll continue to try and figure it out, since he’d make for a formidable yandere! 

[sickenoughsteve]

Each Month of the Pandemic’s Biggest TV Show and What it Says About That Point in the Pandemic

As human beings, we were designed to consume content. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Don’t let anyone lie to you and try to claim we once went outdoors. It’s not true. We didn’t. We belong indoors with no friends, watching shows. These are simple facts, my friends. I hate to break it to you if this is news to you. But I will say, you are a little naive.

Do you remember March 2020? Oh my goodness, what a time that was. The pandemic had just kicked off, we were told we’d be able to work from home (or WFH, if you don’t have time to write the whole thing out) for maybe a week or two while this “whole virus thing” blew over. 

No direction whatsoever from the government or our leaders. Just a general “we gon be aight” Kendrick Lamar type vibe. 

Trump was saying it was the flu! I’ve had that. That’s nothing. Coughing is not that bad. “Oh shit, people are dying, though?” we gasped. Oh well, let’s just not think about it!

Everything was novel and exciting! “This is so cool,” we all thought. “My first pandemic. Let’s goooo!” exclaimed the masses.

In March we were introduced to perhaps the wackiest show of the whole Demic, but an undeniably PERFECT way to kick us into this new life we now all know far too well...

Tiger King (March - Netflix)

This show had everything we possibly could’ve asked for to get us started. LGBT representation, tigers, white on white crime, multiple subplots, Shaquille O’Neal, and a woman who murdered her husband and got away with it. Nice!

We had no idea where this year would take us... the rock bottom many of us would hit, the loneliness, the despair. But we got to see what wacky ass motherfuckers in Oklahoma do with their time and it was just as absurd as we thought it would be.

A truly great start. Which leads nicely to our next month...

The Last Dance (April - ESPN/Netflix)

From the GOAT of Tigers to the GOAT of basketball, both of which are assholes, we have The Last Dance. This show was basically Michael Jordan’s chance to further prove he’s a dick.

We all loved it!

Keep in mind, there were no sports being played at this time. We were all desperate for ANY kind of action, even NBA footage from the 90s. 

Perfect timing for a self congratulatory documentary on stuff we already kind of knew about. Lots of memes came from it. Scottie Pippen being vastly underpaid came to light. Just generally, a nice way to continue easing into lockdown. Nicely done, MJ. 

Too Hot to Handle (May-ish - Netflix)

I know what you’re thinking. Yes, a show about horniness did make the cut. 

This was more April than May, but it’s on Netflix so it’s hard to really say. This was a show about trying to not have sex on an island of hot people with a monetary prize arbitrarily made up on the fly by the show’s producers!

Perfect. By now, none of us were having ANYthing even remotely resembling sex, and if we were it was with... our partner? Ugh!

Another perfect show for this time of the year.

I May Destroy You (June - HBO)

I’d venture to say, by this time in lockdown, I was more interested in trying to find a show I actually thought was good, rather than continuing to tarnish my brain with filth.

This show and Michaela Coel are both actually very good, to the point where I can’t really even make a joke here.

Good show, right as we needed it, being locked in our apartments for the fourth straight month.

Dating Around (July - Netflix)

Also difficult to determine whether this was in July. But again, we were not dating so the idea of not only dating but dating AROUND was pretty fucking compelling.

If you’ve seen the show, you know how toxic the photo I chose is, and I’m sorry for giving you PTSD. 

I will admit I watched the entire show as well as the Brazilian spinoff. Absolute banger.

Selling Sunset (August - Netflix)

Came for the drama, stayed for the unbelievable homes and weirdly subtle moments of humanity.

“Bald, short, rich twin brothers who also happen to be real estate tycoons? Ok... I don’t think this show is for me.” -Everyone, before watching Selling Sunset.

“OK, I get it” - Those same people 15 minutes into episode 1.

This show has multiple seasons but you can literally watch any episode and kind of figure out what’s going on.

Perfect background noise, which at this point in the Demic, we desperately needed.

Ted Lasso (September - Apple TV+)

At a time that desperately required wholesome goodness, Ted Lasso more than delivered.

I’d argue one of the most slept-on post-SNL careers belongs to Jason Sudeikis. We’re the Millers is an iconic film, deserving of an Oscar (or two) but nobody is ready for that conversation.

This was by far the most important release from Apple TV+ (I think that’s what it’s called). Also disclaimer for those of you who hate sports... it has very little sportage, if that’s a word. But yeah, not too many sports! Don’t worry!

Emily in Paris (October - Netflix)

So, without namedropping (because I’m not tacky) the star of this show went to my high school. Therefore, how could I not include it?

Don’t say “weird flex, but ok” to me. It’s not that weird of a flex. Her career is taking off! I like being able to say I knew her before! Sorry!

An undeniably silly and not very good show, it still swept the nation due to the fact that all of us now DESPERATELY want to travel.

We’d go anywhere! But Europe would take the cake. Literally send me to a random industrial town in Germany. I will eat that shit up.

Show is cute enough and pretty entertaining. Perfect as we headed into... Surge Winter™.

CNN (November - CNN, duh)

I know I run the risk of losing you... which I may already have considering how long this damn piece is getting... but I’m going to delve into politics (briefly).

There was no show that could outperform the drama unfolding IRL with trump and biden. Joseph calmly dismantling fascism was really cool to see.

And yes, I’m aware there are other news channels and that CNN is probably fake news, but you know what? I don’t care. I watch CNN because I like my news SASSY! Sue me.

The Flight Attendant (December - HBO)

This show is not even that good, but a psychotic alcoholic who gets caught up in a murder mystery is basically exactly what the content gods knew we were asking for.

Pure recklessness. No redeeming qualities in the protagonist. Just a generally lost and bad person. This is who we all have become.

Kaley Cuoco, you represent us all. Thank you. We now feel heard.

--

I was going to do January but the month isn’t over and this piece is too long, so uhh... holla at me IRL if you want to know what I’m watching rn. Peace!

[raccoonwritings]

A Drink Away from Honesty Chapter 2

Childhood Friends AU (angst with a happy ending, be warned)

Lucas is an oversharing drunk, Eliott is both desperate and dramatic, and everyone is trying to just keep everything straight.

Or alternatively, Lucas and Eliott were childhood best friends until a storm tears them apart and brings them back together.

(Title from “Don’t Miss Me?” by Marianas Trench)

Chapter 2: Meet Choupi

Lucas (16) and Eliott (18)

Samedi 11:34

Lucas wakes up with a headache that thumps and a need for water that is overpowered by the desire to get more sleep. He shouldn’t have gotten crossed, he knows, but it was all he could do to keep himself from thinking about Eliott. Meeting him again after this long must have been a dream, right? Ugh, thinking about it makes Lucas’ head pound more. He just needs to sleep.

 Samedi 13:02

Lucas definitely hasn’t slept enough when Mika abruptly opens the door, shouting at Lucas to get his lazy ass out of bed, and pulling the blinds up to allow sunlight into the room.

“Up, kitten, up! You live in that bed!” Mika enthusiastically chants while crawling into Lucas’ bed with him. How ironic.

“Hnggg,” Lucas responds intelligently with his face smushed up against his incredibly flat pillow. He should really buy a new one. If his dad ever sends him money, of course.

“Well, aren’t you just the master of words this morning,” Mika sing songs. He snuggles up next to Lucas and receives a glare and another unintelligible noise. He soon finds Lisa joining the both of them in bed.

“You know what would get him up, Mika?” Lisa ponders knowingly.

“Why didn’t you mention sooner?” Mika extracts his phone from his pocket and pulls up Tinder. Lucas sees him clip the app icon and he is out. Despite having no energy and the pounding headache from before, he frantically detaches himself from the mattress and climbs over Lisa to reach the door.

“Sorry Mika, I have no desire to see the dicks of your Tinder hookups, or pictures of your dick,” Lucas grumbles, pushing down on the door handle and heading towards the bathroom.

Maybe a shower would help. Plus, he does smell a little of weed and shitty beer. A shower it is.

He walks out of the bathroom 20 minutes later, toweling his hair dry. Opting to grab some water before crawling back into bed, he makes a beeline for kitchen and searches the cabinet for a clean glass. There are used glasses in his room, on his desk, that he could wash and reuse, but that is far too much effort. Rearranging the far-left cabinet leads Lucas to find the secret set of nice glasses Mika must use for special occasions? Maybe they belonged to Manon and she left them here when she moved? Who knows. All that matters is that Lucas has a glass and can finally retreat back into his room.

With a half full glass of water – he chugged the first half – and a slightly damp towel, he treks back into bed. Finally, he’s alone. The water has helped his headache a little, but a pain killer couldn’t hurt. He downs a store brand equivalent of Tylenol and pulls out his phone for the first time that day to check his messages. Most were from the boys, just talking about the party last night, asking Lucas how far he went with Chloe, which he ignores with his entire being. He doesn’t want to talk about Chloe, who – of course – just then sends him a friend request on Facebook. He hates that he accepts, but he has to keep up the façade that he’s into her. This is enough to make him toss his phone aside and curl up in his singular blanket. Glancing around his room for something, anything to distract him, his eyes land on the recently empty cage that’s perched on his dresser. He really doesn’t want to think about that or anything else for that matter and actively ignores everything until his phone pings a short time later.

From: Unknown Number

Hey

 To: Unknown Number

Who is this?

 From: Unknown Number

How was your night with that girl?

 Lucas couldn’t help but let out a huff. Who the fuck was this person asking about yesterday? He didn’t want to talk about it.

To: Unknown Number

Who is this?

 Lucas isn’t answering any questions until he knows who he’s talking to. Unfortunately, he was waiting for a good hour before he discovered who has his number.

From: Unknown Number

You never gave me back my orange marker

 For the love of God. Lucas is over this. He has no desire to talk to Eliott at all, except Eliott is obviously not feeling the same.

From: Don’t Answer

I was really attached to that orange marker, Lucas. It meant a lot to me!

It broke my heart when you never returned it.

 It broke his heart? The audacity of him, honestly, to say that Lucas broke his heart. His sympathy and any naïve thought to respond was gone in an instant, only to be replaced by an all-consuming anger. A deep-seated sadness. This was the person who changed everything for him and left him to deal with the aftermath. The person who left him to retreat back into a skin he craved to shed. The person who forgot about him and was back again only to remind him of that.

 Lucas (9) and Eliott (11)

Mercredi 15:19

“Mom says I can get a dog!” Lucas exclaims as he sits on Eliott’s bed. They had both gotten out of a class not long ago and it was tradition that they head to Eliott’s to watch movies and goof off.

“That’s cool! Except, dogs are so last year,” Eliott replies, sitting across from Lucas in his neon yellow desk chair. Lucas huffs.

“What do you mean “so last year”? All the kids in my class are getting dogs for Christmas this year!” Lucas defends his desire for a fluffy companion. Dogs were, are a classic.

“They were like all the craze last year. You know what animal is on the rise this year?” Eliott responds animatedly. Lucas loves seeing his best friend like this even though he sounds like a complete idiot.

“What animal is on the rise this year, Eliott? Please, enlighten me,” Lucas rolls his eyes and emphasizes the ‘enlighten’. If Eliott didn’t get that he was being sarcastic, than he would really wouldn’t understand people at all.

“Obviously, my sarcasm has rubbed off on you, and normally I’d say that you following in my footsteps is the way it should be, but considering you’re only nine, I’d say maybe dial it back a bit. Okay?” He smiles, crooked and genuine. Lucas nods and returns a toothy smile, encouraging Eliott to continue since he still hasn’t unveiled what animal has become the most popular. “Alright, so a dog is great, yeah, but what about a hedgehog?!” Eliott finishes his question with another smile and jazz hands, causing Lucas to burst out in laughs.

“A hedgehog? Really? How are they better than a dog?” Lucas crosses his arms over his body and awaits the other boy’s response.

“They are! They’re cute, don’t require walks, or are ridiculously needy. I don’t know, they just remind me you a bit, too.” Lucas’ heart warms at Eliott indirectly calling him cute. He doesn’t understand exactly why, but it makes him feel good. He knows his cheeks are reddening, but luckily Eliott has turned around to face his laptop and is in the process of searching for pictures of baby hedgehogs. He finds a particularly cute picture and beckons Lucas to his side, which he immediately follows.

Lucas can’t not admit that the baby hedgehog is quite cute, but he’d never admit that to his friend. He would never admit to him that he wanted one now, slightly because of the fact that these small animals reminded Eliott of him and very much because of the idea of not having to put forth a ton of effort in walking it and cleaning up its shit.

Lucas also wouldn’t admit, at least right now, that when he arrives at home that night for dinner, he asks his mom, pleads with her, to let him get a hedgehog. She denies him for the moment and asks him why he’s had a sudden change of heart, considering he had been pleading for a dog for months on end. He wouldn’t admit the real reason to her either.

Months later, after Lucas’ 10th birthday, Eliott is bounding up the stairs leading to Lucas’ bedroom and knocking open the door with clumsy force. Lucas is standing in front of his dresser, which dons a shiny new cage, with his arms wrapped around something small. He turns and smiles wide at his best friend.

“Meet Choupi!” He exclaims, removing one of his hands to reveal a baby hedgehog. Eliott’s grin is wild.

“You took my advice!” He says, bouncing his way over to Lucas on the other side of the room. He leans down to get a closer look at the small animal when he makes a revelation. “Wait, Choupi?! Really, Lucas?” Eliott laughs with his body and looks to see his friend blushing.

“I’m not that creative, okay! There’s no need to make fun.” Lucas says, turning away from his friend. He’s a bit embarrassed now.

“Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it to be mean. It’s cute, I like it. It reminds me of you,” Eliott says, smiling tentatively. Lucas’ is no longer embarrassed when he meets his friends eyes, eyes that are full of nothing but warmth.

“Want to hold him?”

“YES!” Lucas giggles at the excitement. He tells Eliott to open his hands and slowly glides Choupi into his palm. It’s not a surprise that Choupi takes an immediate liking to his best friend. He totally understands.

 Lucas (16) and Eliott (18)

Samedi 14:06

Lucas just stares at his phone. He can feel the anger bubbling. How dare he come back into his life like this. How dare he up root all the damage control he’s done. Well, he hasn’t exactly done anything yet, but Lucas knows a storm is coming. Eliott left with a storm and he’ll come back with a storm, Lucas knows. He used to love those storms.

He loses himself in his thoughts and doesn’t feel his phone ping again.

From: Don’t Answer

Please talk to me.

 Lucas feels torn. A deep part of him, a part he has worked so hard to push down, wants to talk to him. He wants to feel connected to him again, but he knows that it is only going to hurt more in the end. He’s just going to leave again and Lucas can’t survive another one of that. He’s out of tape to piece his heart back together.

To: Don’t Answer

Leave me alone

 From: Don’t Answer

Aha!  You’re talking to me!

 Lucas rolls his eyes.

From: Don’t Answer

So, how are you?

I’m good, thanks for asking

I could go for a coffee though

Wanna join me?

I’ll be down at the coffee shop

You know the one

The one we always went to

Our coffee shop

 Lucas is dumb found. ‘Our coffee shop.’ They weren’t a ‘we.’ There was no ‘our.’ At least not anymore. Lucas contemplates for a several minutes before another ping from his cellphone makes the decision for him.

From: Don’t Answer

Shit, I forgot. I have to see Lucille later. I’m really sorry. Raincheck?

 Lucas laughs bitterly, tossing his phone to the side. Yeah, raincheck.

[gubloid13]

On KPOP

Okay. It's no secret that I like K-pop. My first ever experience was when I stumbled across Girls Generation's "Gee" video late one night whilst prowling the internet like the no-life nerd that I was in middle school. I watched it, was blown away, and moved on. At that time I had no idea that I had come across one of the most iconic K-pop videos of all time. I didn't even know what K-pop was. I didn’t really think about the video again until I was in my sophomore year of high school. That's when I met her.

Now, I wont get into much detail about her. She was, for the most part, a good friend. Granted, I don’t really remember much about our friendship, but I do remember that for that year at least we spent a lot of time together. 

Anyway, back to K-pop. She was absolutely obsessed with K-pop. She would always show me videos and I would watch with feigned interest as she babbled about how thin an beautiful each of the members was. I, at the time anyway, was preoccupied with my own thoughts of how cute this one boy from JROTC was (spoiler: he's a dick), so I didn't really pay attention to anything that she was saying. So I was so close at this point to getting hooked, but I wasn't quite there.

No, the hook came when I gave her my little iPod shuffle to download her library onto it. You see, I often get bored of the music I listen to on a daily basis so I need to get new stuff to listen to. So she downloaded her playlist and I gave it a listen. She introduced me to Marina and the Diamonds, Lana Del Rey, and, most importantly, f(X). When I saw the artist name f(x), I thought it was gonna be some math nerd bullshit. I was so, so wrong.   

Electric Shock by f(x) was the very first K-pop song I listened to and remembered. I remember it very vividly, I was on the bus going home from school and I was browsing the artist names when I decided "fuck it" and tapped on the math nerd bullshit name. The song started and I was left in awe. My mouth hung open in amazement. My first thought was "this isn't English". My second thought was "this is goddamned amazing". And for the rest of the bus ride home (and the rest of that week) I listened to that song on repeat. At that point, there still might've been a chance for me.

Now, it took me a few days before I finally caved and looked up the music video on YouTube. That's when it was all over. The music video had amazing visuals. Bright colors, awesome choreography, and bad ass outfits. I became obsessed. I watched all of their music videos, I learned all of the members names, and I learned more about them. And so began my spiral into the depths of the K-Pop fandom.

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past ten years, you'll know about YouTube and it's "recommended" sidebar on videos. You can literally just sit there and click away until you die. Anyway, YouTube recommended that I watch videos from other groups. I was a little hesitant, but you know I clicked that shit. That's how I got introduced to SHINee, Girls Generation, Super Junior, BIG BANG, and so on and so forth. (that's not all the groups, just the first ones)

These days it's so much more than just watching M/V's and interviews on YouTube. My entire life has been consumed. I follow every social media platform the group is on be it Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, YouTube, Vlive, Weibo, Snapchat, Kakao, EVERYTHING. Every goddamned tweet gets liked and rt, every Instagram post gets liked and commented on, EVERY VLIVE GETS THE AUTO CLICKER GOING ON TWO DIFFERENT PHONES WHILE I'M COMMENTING FROM MY LAPTOP. I order all of the albums that I don't have in sets if there's more than one version, buying official merchandise, and honestly I'm thinking about buying lightsticks even though I probably wont go to a concert anytime soon (because im poor and its hard to leave Alaska).

DO NOT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON COMEBACKS. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THE COMEBACKS. UGH.

Pre-ordering each version, constantly posting, constantly checking SNS for updates, CRYING ACTUAL TEARS, counting down the days, waiting for concept photos and teasers, AND WHEN THE NEW MV DROPS AT 1 IN THE GODDAMNED MORNING WATCHING IT ON THE SIX DEVICES THAT I HAVE UNTIL THE WHOLE ALBUM IS RELEASED ON ITUNES AT 3AM, LISTENING TO THE WHOLE THING, CRYING AGAIN,  AND THEN WATCHING THE COMEBACK VLIVE AND GIVING THEM ALL I HAVE TO GIVE. 

And why? Why do I put in this much effort to support these people who will never know that I exist? 

There was a time where I kind of fell off the fandom wagon because I didn’t know why I was doing any of this (I was also SUPER depressed but whatever). I've given it some thought and I think I can explain.

I put in the effort that I do because I am lonely. And these idols, these artists, make the effort to connect with us, their fans. Watching their videos, seeing their posts, and hanging out during their live videos feels almost like spending time with an old friend. And spending time with them like this makes me feel less alone I guess. They become a familiar face to us, and they just bring a smile to my face. They work so unbelievably hard for us, to make their music, to spend time with us, to put on concerts all around the world, to perfect their choreography, while also following the rules that come with being an idol. And if they're going to put in that much work for us, we have to match them in their effort. Because they really deserve the world.

And beyond just the idols, there is also a deep connection between fans as well. We are a family. I know that there is often times a lot of drama in the K-Pop fandom, and that comes from the passion that is in each and every fan, no matter who their favorite group is. K-pop fans are some of the most passionate and fiercely loyal people you will ever meet.  And we all think that our group is the best group (I'll cover that in another post). 

Being in this fandom you will meet people from all around the world, from all walks of life, and you will have something in common: your love for your group. There is the common goal to support this group, to make sure that they know how much we love them in the only way we can; through the numbers. The more views, likes, and votes we can give them the more they'll know we love them. We're all in this together. 

(HOLY SHIT THAT'S LONG I'M SORRY IF YOU ACTUALLY READ ALL THAT ILY)

in the tags are all the groups i follow/support/love/listen to/cry over. (IM SURE I MISSED SOMEONE BUT I CANT TELL WHO DAMMIT IM SORRY)

if your group isnt there, feel free to message me and tell me about them! i love learning about new groups!

[spartanguard]

chasing gold

captain swan figure skating AU. I started plotting this years ago, but the Olympics paired with the discovery of Hubbell and Donohue finally gave me the push to finish it. I know I’m not the only one who’s done this, but I spent the last week consumed by this and had to let it out.

11k | rated PG, but coarse language | AO3

2018

Emma had to catch her breath, not for the first time this week. She was here—really here! All around her was the din of the crowd speaking countless languages, the chill air of the rink, and that iconic five-ringed logo. As she stared at it where it was painted at center ice, she pinched herself through her bejeweled costume.

The dream had finally come true. She was competing in the Olympics. This wasn’t even the first time she’d taken the ice here—the third occasion out of three, actually—but there was some truth to the saying “saving the best for last”—or at least, the most important. They were minutes away from taking the ice in the pairs’ free skate competition, sitting in second place with the gold medal easily within grasp.

It was hard to believe that not even two years ago, there was a moment when this all seemed impossibly out of reach. But honestly, that made this all the sweeter, and she wouldn’t have it any other way, or with any other partner at her side.

2016

"Bastard!" Emma shouted, slamming her hand against the locker. "That no-good, fucking bastard!"

"Emma, calm down."

"How am I supposed to calm down? How can he do this, on the day we're supposed to start training again?"

A text. That was all she'd gotten from Neal to let her know that it was over. They'd skated together for 7 years, won two US championships, and just finished 4th at Worlds. They were already a favorite to medal at the PyeongChang Olympics, even if that was a couple years away.

But just like that, he leaves her for another skater, Tamara something-or-other. Saying that he's "only thinking of his future" or some bullshit.

"This is bullshit!"

What no one else knew was that he wasn't just leaving her as a skating partner; he was leaving her altogether. They'd kept their romance on the down-low, even from Ingrid, their coach; so this was a double crowbar to both knees.

"Emma, we'll figure it out." How Ingrid could keep her cool right now, Emma couldn’t understand, but she supposed that was why some called the woman “the Snow Queen.”

Unable to deal with the rage-fueled adrenaline coursing through her body, Emma stormed out of the locker room toward the ice. (Of course she already had her skates on by the time he bothered to text.) She barely registered Ingrid's shouts of "Emma, wait! Be careful! You could hurt yourself!" as she took to the fresh, frozen plane.

After a few warmup laps at breakneck speeds, she did a few spins before heading into jumps; that was usually how she worked off anger. First, a couple axels, then into toe loops; she nailed a few doubles before she realized she was being watched. She and Neal weren't the only ones who trained in Storybrooke, but she'd never seen this dark-haired guy here before. Whatever. Let him watch.

She continued on through salchows and flips before working on her loops. After landing a particularly nice one, the stranger began to applaud. She rolled her eyes and huffed.

"Trying to practice here."

"I see that, love. And doing quite well you are."

She glanced over at the man, registering the familiar accent and not sure how she didn't recognize him in the first place: Killian Jones, the poster boy of figure skating. It was said that no one could resist his combination of blue eyes, scruff, and skating skills.

But Emma just gagged. Ugh. He was the last person she wanted to see today.

“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly, hands on hips as she came to a stop in front of the boards he was leaning over (and kicking up extra snow in frustration).

“It’s nice to see you too, Swan,” he replied, far more polite than she felt like being. He was right, that it had been a while since they’d seen each other—not since his last partner (and girlfriend), Milah Gold, had tragically died of an aneurysm in practice a few years ago and he’d gone solo. And honestly, she was fine with that. She’d always gotten on well with Milah whenever they saw them in international competition, but Killian? Not as much, not with his cocky demeanor and the way he flirted with anything in a skirt and skates. It was too much like someone she was trying not to think about.

Apparently, the feeling was not mutual, and he continued to be a gentleman. “You skated fantastic at Worlds,” he commented.

“Thanks. You too.” Though he’d only been a singles skater for a couple years, he still managed to take 6th place for the UK. It was impressive. And she probably would have told him then, had she not been still avoiding him, while also spending every free moment either training or taking advantage of exploring her hometown of Boston with Neal. If only she’d known…

“Where’s Cassidy?” Killian’s innocent question broke her train of thought and soured her already-awful mood; she couldn’t even reminisce on what should have been a highlight of her career now without thinking of that yellow-bellied asshole.

“Fuck if I know,” she muttered. “Wherever he and his new partner are training.”

Jones’ eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Are you serious?” Emma answered by staring at the ice and stabbing it with her toepick. “What a monumental arse.”

“Takes one to know one,” she spat back, without thinking. He visibly deflated at that, and she felt kind of bad. But only a little.

“Aye, you’re probably right,” he conceded, surprisingly genuine, as he stood up and grabbed his skates from the bench behind him. “Right then, I’ll leave you to it. I’m training here now, so...see you around.” And he took off without another glance.

As she watched him walk away, part of her screamed to apologize; her shit mood didn’t have to become his. But the other part—the part that was angry and was okay with feeding that anger, at least for today—reminded her that she didn’t need Killian, or Neal, or any guy. Maybe she could try her hand at singles, too—that was how she started way back when, right? As long as she was skating, what did it matter?

Turned out, it mattered a lot. Ingrid fully supported her rash decision to give singles a try, even if Emma hadn’t skated on her own since high school. Her friend Elsa, who trained with her and Ingrid in Storybrooke (but skated for Norway), was right on board and giving her tips. But after only a week, Emma felt a sense of loneliness sink in that she hadn’t felt since she was a kid in a group home. The ice just felt too empty with no one else there. She tried to find some sort of empowerment in that—be the one to fill it up, or some other cheesy endearment—but she knew it wasn’t that. It just felt...off.

But she’d be damned if she admitted it. Emma Swan didn’t give up. That’s why she was here, at the rink at 10 on a Tuesday night, trying her damnedest to get her triple toe loop. She would need that if she wanted even a hope of succeeding on her own. But she couldn’t get that last half rotation, and she was pretty sure it was just mocking her now every time she came down facing the wrong way.

“You need to start lower.”

She nearly had a heart attack at the man’s voice; she’d been certain she was the last one in the building (they’d given her a key years ago). Turning to face it, she found Killian, in the same place he’d been last week, wearing the same smirk.

“Excuse me?”

“If you want that extra half rotation, you need to start lower; bend your knee more.”

She tilted her head to assess him. Was he actually trying to help, even after the way she treated him last week?

He apparently took her confusion to mean she didn’t understand the instructions, and took that as an invitation to hop on the ice—the fact that he was even still wearing his skates surprised her, but probably not as much as it should have. He glided over, stopping gracefully to stand alongside her. “Show me your takeoff.”

“Why?” was all she could say.

“Humor me,” he answered with a wink. She rolled her eyes but did as asked, pushing off and away from him to go into her jump prep, and he watched her, critiquing, if the furrow of his brow told her anything. Was he trying to make fun of her?

“Hold it right there,” he commanded, and she held the pose until she lost her momentum and was just standing on the ice with one leg extended behind her while he skated over. “See, you’re not bending deep enough to get the height you need. See how low I get?” he asked, going into a similar pose. “I know my legs are longer, but try to match this angle.” She bit back the urge to protest and complied, bending her knee just a bit more. It felt odd, but not unachievable. He stood and directed her to “Go on; try that.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye; just what was he trying to do? It wasn’t unheard of for skaters to help each other out, but unsolicited? To be fair, though, she hadn’t turned him away yet, so it couldn’t hurt to try. She took off again, skating in an arc around the rink, and began the prep for the jump, going just that bit lower before bringing her toepick down for liftoff...and there it was: a perfect triple. She was so astonished that despite the flawless landing, she fell right over.

“Woah! You alright?” He was in front of her in an instant, hand extended to help her up. She took it and let him help haul her to her feet, but she must have stood up too fast because suddenly, she was in his (very firm, very nice) arms. “Did you hit your head or anything?” He seemed genuinely concerned—that was a surprise.

“Yeah, yeah—I’m fine. Just shocked I landed it,” she brushed off with a chuckle. It felt good, but it sounded almost hollow, the slide of her lone blade on the ice. Maybe that was how it was supposed to be—or maybe it was just time to call it a night.

“How about we take one together? That might make it be less shocking,” he suggested.

She was a bit too caught up in her enthusiasm over getting it to think much about his offer, but she took him up on it without second thought. They broke apart, and then he counted them down from three to start.

On “one,” they skated away in tandem, steps nearly in sync. He called out “prep,” and they did the same steps to start the jump. And on “go,” they leapt, rotated, and landed almost perfectly and very nearly at the same time, blades hitting the ice within milliseconds of each other and cutting congruent curves in the surface.

It felt even better than the last. She let herself slide backwards into the boards, almost overcome with how great that jump had been. It felt like when she had been back in her peak a few months ago, but somehow even better.

Killian came to a rest next to her. “I don’t mean to upset you, Swan,” he started, nodding at their matching paths in the ice, “but I think we make quite the team.” He winked, and then pressed his arms against the edge of the boards to skate back to the rink exit, but his words lingered.

Maybe he wasn’t the “monumental arse” she thought he was.

She found him early the next day near the entrance to the locker room. “First off, I’m sorry I called you an asshole last week.”

He shrugged. “I probably deserved it.”

She wasn’t going to argue, so she took a breath and moved onto her next point. “And I think you were right. Let’s be a team.”

A slow smile took over his features. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

2018

While waiting for the okay to enter the ice and hearing the audience cheer for the previous pair, Emma felt a dark, warm presence at her side. Killian wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight.

“You alright there, Swan?” he whispered, his warm breath on her ear a sharp contrast to the chill of the arena that sent a shiver down her spine—though, she’d had to stop denying that it was only his breath that had that effect on her.

“Never better,” she answered honestly. How could she be anything but? She was about to compete for a medal with the man who had become her best friend over the last two years. Sure, there’d been plenty of ups and downs, both literally and figuratively, but despite what she’d once thought, she couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.

“Shall we, then?” He stepped aside and held his hand out to her, ever the gentleman.

“Let’s do this.” She grabbed his hand, shivering again at the sparks she felt whenever they touched, and they made their way toward the entrance to the ice.

2016

Whatever nerves Emma had before her first day training with Killian, they quickly melted. Well—maybe not that quickly, in the grand scheme of things, but for Emma: pretty damn fast. She didn’t trust easy, especially with her recent history.

When they first started attempting lifts together, there was a learning curve on both ends. For Emma, Killian was just enough taller than Neal that she was freaked out by how high she was. Conversely, Emma was just enough shorter than Milah that Killian wasn’t used to lifting anyone smaller, and may have pulled her up quicker than expected. Needless to say, the first lift—and the third, and the seventh, and the tenth—ended with both of them on the mats of the training center.

After yet another fall, Killian frustratedly barked out, “Perhaps you should try something new, Swan. It’s called trust.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t throw me in the air like a rag doll!”

Thankfully, Ingrid was there to mediate, as was Killian’s longtime coach, Smee. And the first time they executed a clean lift, it felt better than Emma could have even expected. When he easily flipped her down from it, as if they’d done it a million times before, she was relieved to see that his grin matched hers.

Partnered jumps and throws had a similar learning curve, but Emma was trying—damn, was she trying. She was determined to make this work, and she could tell by the fierce set of Killian’s eyes and jaw that he was, too. At least spins came easy; those felt like they’d been doing them as a pair for years with how naturally they fit together.

Overall, it was a better start than she expected. Most people didn’t change partners like that in such a quick time span and have anywhere near the success they were achieving. They knew they still had a ways to go, and a lot to prove—the announcement of the partnering switchups was met with mixed reviews by the skating community at large, and Killian would have to sort out his citizenship to skate for the US—but if the excited glint in their coaches’ eyes was anything to go by, they were on the right path.

She was still reeling from Neal’s betrayal, though, even if she refused to acknowledge she was. Throwing herself into practice was the easiest way to take her mind off of it, but every now and then, she’d hit a familiar pose or come out of a side-by-side jump and expect to look over and see Neal there, but he just...wasn’t. He was gone, like so many other people in her life had been. So it was nothing against Killian, but she was very hesitant to let another person in who had the potential to do that, both from a skating and a personal level.

Killian, however, wasn’t abiding by that. She could sense his growing frustration with her when they were practicing late into the evening, both determined to get their twist lift right. But Emma had a mental block on adjusting to Killian and kept bungling it, whether it was under rotated or lacking height, and forcing Killian to catch her in odd positions that sent them to the ice more than once.

“One more time, I can do it,” she insisted, sitting up from where they’d wiped out to give it another go.

From his seat on the ice, he grabbed her wrist to keep her in place. “No. Hold up—we need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she brushed off, pulling her wrist free.

“I know this is new to both of us, Swan, but at some point, even though we’re quite different, you’ve gotta trust me.”

“That’s what you think this is about? That I don’t trust you?”

“Is that not it?”

“Of course I trust you.”

“Then why won’t you let me in?”

Everything she’d been avoiding focusing on for weeks now came bubbling up. “Because everyone leaves me. My parents abandoned me as a baby; I spent my first 6 years shuffled from home to home in the foster system because no one wanted me; and it wasn’t until I found skating and Ingrid that I found any sense of belonging. And then I spent the last 7 years working with a man who promised to be there with me, who made plans with me, only for him to leave me at the drop of a hat, break my heart, and remind me that even if people know my name, I’m still the same little lost girl I’ve always been. Everyone I love leaves me, and I can’t take that chance with you, too.”

“You think you’re the only one with a sob story here, Emma?” His voice was laced with anger; it took her by surprise. Most people reacted to her story with sympathy or pity, but Killian wasn’t having it. “My mother died when I was a boy, father left not long after, and then my brother gave up everything for me to have the chance to skate, until he died. And then I found a partner, a woman I loved, and she died in my arms, too. I never thought I’d share the ice with someone again—that I’d be able to move on from her. Yet here we are. So don’t tell me you can’t do it.”

He didn’t even give her a chance to respond before standing and tearing away, exiting the ice and disappearing toward the locker room, leaving her speechless where she sat. That was a lot to take in, and explained so much about him.

And he was right—he was totally right. She knew she hid herself behind emotional walls; it was one of the first things she could remember learning how to do. Few people had broken through them, and they usually ended up just building them thicker, like Neal. Killian obviously had his own, but he was clearly willing to make a window in them for Emma; the least she could do was the same.

A clunking noise pulled her from her racing thoughts. Killian was back in the arena, on the other side of the wall, setting two beer bottles on top of it. Confused, she got to her feet and skated over. “Pretty sure they don’t allow booze on the ice.”

“Who’s here to stop us?” he asked rhetorically and took a sip. It was true; once again, they were the only people in the building. So she took the other bottle and followed suit. “Let’s face it, Swan: we’re both broken and beat up in our own ways, and the whole world is just waiting for us to fail. If we’re not on each other’s side, then who else will be?” He punctuated his question with an arch of his eyebrow.

How he always managed to get to the center of a situation was impressive, and she’d probably get tired of it someday, but right now, she couldn’t help but agree. “So it’s us against the world?” she offered, tilting her bottle towards him.

“Cheers to that,” he answered, clinking the lip of his beer with hers. And as they drank in companionable silence, something settled between them—an understanding of sorts, and for some reason, she felt more confident than she thought she had a right to feel. And for the first time in weeks, she was truly excited.

From then on, things started to click. They weren’t perfect, of course—there were always going to be falls when trying new things, and technique was constantly under scrutiny—but they were able to figure out how to fix issues faster through more open communication and their discovered sense of camaraderie. Emma quickly figured out that the cocky demeanor she’d known in the past was merely a front for a man who was constantly worried with being good enough and expected the most of himself and everyone around him. As it turned out, he’d long had a similar misguided opinion of her: that she was stiff and humorless, when in actuality she’d had to be to counter Neal’s distractedness and lack of focus. With Killian, that was never a problem, so she was able to loosen up and have a bit more fun with her skating.

And just like that, everything fell into place. Killian’s citizenship was granted—his years of training in Michigan counted towards the residency requirement—and they were cleared to skate for the US. Their programs started to come together and were equal amounts fun and challenging. They played it a bit easy when it came to scheduling competitions, electing to not do the Grand Prix this year, but were still invited to a couple events and figured those would be good chances to get in some international competition.

It had been a long time since Emma had been this excited to skate. Obviously, she’d loved it when she was with Neal, but it had always felt a bit more like a job with him. With Killian, she was rediscovering her love of the sport through his own passion and enthusiasm. That didn’t mean that every day was new and exciting and fun, but a hell of a lot more of them were.

Even Elsa noticed it. “You seem a lot happier lately,” she observed one night while they were watching TV in their apartment. “This change has been good for you.”

“Yeah, it really has,” Emma agreed, surprising herself a bit. There were still plenty of moments when Neal’s rejection stung bitterly—he had never replied to any of her messages asking to talk about things—but the closer they got to competition, the fewer those were.

October brought their first competition, Skate America in Detroit. It also brought a return to Killian's old training center for practices leading up to the event. In the hallway outside the locker rooms hung all the pictures of the champions who had trained there in the past; near the end, in a large frame, were Killian and Milah with their bronze medals from the Vancouver olympics. He looked younger then, his face cleanshaven and hair neatly styled. He was even wearing a crewneck top; a far cry from the chest hair-baring V-necks he preferred now. But that sparkle in his blue eyes was still there, and she’d noticed it more and more lately.

She heard him coming down the corridor, waving goodbye to yet another person he knew here. It was definitely a homecoming of sorts for him—everyone greeted him warmly, told them they missed him, and wished him well. The two of them had never discussed why he moved to Storybrooke, and after just a day here, she found her curiosity needed to be sated.

“I’ve got to wonder why someone would leave a place where he was so loved,” she lightly teased as he arrived at her side, but they both knew, given her childhood, that it was a serious question.

He stared up at the picture and sighed. “That’s exactly why, actually. I needed to not be the center of attention anymore,” he answered, more honestly than she’d expected. “All eyes were on us here in Detroit at all times, and even when they were just on me, it still felt like they were on both of us.”

“Skating with a ghost?” she pondered aloud. Seeing this—a reminder of what he’d lost—every day couldn’t have been easy for him; it hadn’t been for her that week after Neal left, and his departure was at least voluntary.

“Something like that,” he agreed quietly.

“I think I know what you mean.”

The week and competition went by in a blur after that. As it turned out, Neal and Tamara weren’t doing any Grand Prix events, which had relieved Emma to no end. Instead, she got to focus on reconnecting with her American teammates, Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan, and their former teammates Regina Mills and Robin Locksley, who now skated for Robin’s (and Killian’s) home of the UK.

“So they traded you for me?” Killian quipped to Regina, drawing a rare laugh from her, to Emma’s surprise, but she was glad that he fit right in with everyone. It was so nice to hang out with all of them in between practices and competition events; Emma didn’t realize how much she had needed that social connection within the activity right now, and knowing they were there supporting her and Killian meant more than she could express.

They were nervous before their short program (“Crazy Little Thing Called Love” by Queen—hey, it was fun!) and had a couple minor slips, but nothing major, and the crowd reaction was incredible. Their free skate, set to music from The Princess Bride, didn’t go quite as well—they both made mistakes on an assisted jump, resulting in Emma falling—but overall were pleased with their performance and managed to finish 6th. For a first competition for new partners, that was almost unheard of.

At Skate Canada, two weeks later in Mississauga, they skated even better, saw their score jump 10 points, and finished fourth—ahead of Regina and Robin. And suddenly, they were the buzz of the skating world—no one could believe how well they were doing and how well they skated together; everyone thought it looked like they’d been partners for years instead of months.

More than a few speculated that there was something else going on behind the scenes, but they just laughed at that. Entering a new partnership was one thing; entering a new relationship—given their respective histories—was another thing entirely. Yeah, Killian was hot. But he also had figured out just how to push her buttons when he felt like it, so no matter how good of friends they became, or how much she’d come to rely on his support, she doubted it would ever go past that, or that he’d even want it to.

Competing in Skate America gave them a bye through the New England regional, but they still had to compete in the Eastern sectional competition to attend US nationals. That was where they took their first win, on the ice at Madison Square Garden, with their cleanest run yet. They both could list a million things they still needed to work on—their spin timing still needed some cleaning—but a victory was a victory.

Emma didn’t think a thing of it when she threw her arms around Killian after their free skate score was announced, and he didn’t hesitate to pull her in tight. Long gone was that initial animosity, but that was still their first real hug—not just one for show as part of a routine. It didn’t hit Emma until much later that that was the case—or that she actually quite liked the feeling of his arms around her like that.

They buckled down on training in preparation for Nationals, save for the few days they took off for Christmas. With Elsa back in Norway with her family, it ended up just being her and Killian left in Storybrooke, watching holiday movies and eating frozen pizza in his small house by the sea. It should have been lonely, considering neither of them had any actual family to spend time with, but it was surprisingly nice to hang out with him outside of practice. And it had been ages since she laughed so hard, listening to him talk about his childhood antics.

“So I pulled his pants down and skated away as fast as I could, jumping over a fallen classmate in the process and somehow managing to stay perfectly upright.”

“And that’s how Killian Jones got into skating? Being a little asshole?” Emma teased through her laughter.

“Pretty much,” he shrugged with a smirk. “It was that or hockey, but Liam thought I got in enough fights already.”

“Sounds like,” she agreed, chuckling.

“And how did little Swan find her way out of the nest and onto the ice?”

“Oh, the usual: saw the Olympics on TV and fell in love. Oksana Baiul left quite an impression.”

“Better her than Tonya Harding.”

“Definitely,” she giggled (god, when had she last done that?) “But it wasn’t until Ingrid became my foster mother that I really got started; I wouldn’t be here without her. And after that, it was all I ever wanted: to compete at the Olympics and win a medal.”

Killian gave her a soft little smile she had never seen before; she kind of loved it. “We’ll get you there yet, Swan.”

His assurance did more for her confidence in attaining her dream than a week’s worth of practice.

Mid-January found them in Kansas City in the middle of the chaos of Nationals. It was nothing compared to world championships, of course, but there was still a level of insanity and a new set of nerves settling in. Because this was the first time they’d go up against Neal and Tamara, who’d posted similar scores to them at their sectional competition. But mainly, Emma wasn’t sure she could face him.

She spent the week making sure they wouldn’t cross paths anywhere: not in practice, not in the hotel, and as little as possible at the competition venue. But just before the short, as she and Killian came off the ice from their warmup, she got a glimpse of him that set her heart racing and froze her in place.

Ever perceptive, Killian pulled her from her raging thoughts and feelings—asking herself why she was even there, how did she think she could go up against him?—with a gentle squeeze on her wrist and “You alright, Swan?”

His warm hand on her skin brought her back to reality, and reminded her who was at her side now. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

“Alright then. Let’s go kick some ass.”

They skated almost clean; just a couple missed edges and Emma wobbled a bit coming out of their side-by-side triple toe loop. But when it was all said and done, that was enough to set them in third after the short, with David and Mary Margaret in second and Neal and Tamara in first.

She forced herself to wear blinders the next day; anything outside her and Killian didn’t matter. Even in warmup before the last round of competition, when she was actually sharing the ice with Neal for the first time in almost a year, her energy was completely directed on their performance. And it paid off: they set a personal best score in the free skate and claimed the silver medal, ensuring they would go on to represent the US at Worlds. Neither she nor Killian could keep the grins off their faces, and she was starting to think she might do anything to keep his there permanently; the way it cut dimples into his gingery scruff was absolutely adorable.

After the medal ceremony, during which she had pointedly ignored that they were standing next to Neal and Tamara, they stepped down to exchange congratulations with the other competitors and friends and she somehow got separated from Killian. She felt a tap on the shoulder and turned, expecting it to be him, but no—Neal.

Instantly, her mood soured. “Congrats,” she offered half-heartedly.

“You too,” he said, though there were clearly other things on his mind.

“Spit it out, Neal. Why did you come over here?” After what you did hung unsaid but understood.

“Just...it didn’t take you long to move on.”

She felt her hackles rise. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You didn’t even wait a week, huh? Or did you just throw yourself at the next man who gave you any attention?”

“You’re the one who left me and you’re trying to lecture me about how fast I found a new partner?”

“You just can’t stand being alone, is all. I thought I’d be doing you a favor, leaving, but I guess not.”

“Fuck you.” She didn’t waste another moment talking to him and immediately skated to the exit, ignoring the varied shouts she heard of her name behind her on her path back to the locker room. Thankfully, it was empty, and she collapsed on a bench—and then let the tears roll free.

How dare he. How dare that asshole even look at her! She was finally to the point that she wasn’t reminded of him at every turn and then he had the nerve—the gall—

“Emma, love, what’s wrong? What happened?” Killian was suddenly kneeling in front of her, hands tracing a comforting line up and down her biceps when she looked up at him with her swollen eyes.

“Neal,” she coughed out, and that was all she could say before emotion took over her again. In just one interaction, he’d reduced her back to that little orphan girl who felt so unloved and alone in the world, and she hated that he had that power over her.

“Shh, Swan, it’s alright,” Killian told her, voice barely above a whisper as he pulled her to his chest. She breathed him in deep, the warm, spicy smell of him she’d become so used to these past months, and managed to calm her breathing from within his sturdy embrace. “Whatever that bastard said, it’s not true. You are absolutely brilliant and no one can tell you otherwise.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” she muttered, but she’d stopped crying.

“Look at me,” he commanded, guiding her back up and lifting her chin with his hand. She’d never seen him more serious. “Have I told you a lie?”

He’d figured out her instinct to know when people were being untrue pretty fast. And he was right—or, at least, he completely believed what he was saying. And that was enough for her. She shook her head.

“Right then.” He nodded and wiped her tears with his thumb, still holding her face and her gaze. And something shifted then, or maybe it sparked; a charge filled the air, and she found her eyes flitting down to his lips at the same time his made a similar move. The already-short distance between them became nearly nonexistent, as if they were pulled together by an invisible magnet.

And then their lips were on each others, soft and warm and like they should have been a million years sooner. Emma’s hand drifted to his side and the other somehow found its way into the short, soft hairs at the nape of his neck. It was a moment that seemed to last forever.

Until she realized that she was kissing her partner in the women’s locker room at the Sprint Center—and honestly, wasn’t that what got her into this position in the first place? Oh, but it was such a good kiss. Reluctantly, she broke it, settling her hands on his trim waist and resting against his forehead.

“That was…” he started, breathless.

“...A one-time thing,” she finished. Because it had to be. Gently pushing him away, she directed, “Go on ahead. I’ll be out in five minutes.”

“As you wish,” he murmured. Slowly, he stood and backed away; she couldn’t watch—couldn’t see the expression on his face as he left, because if it was anything similar to how she felt, she knew she wouldn’t have the strength to resist. And there was no way she’d let herself get involved with a teammate yet again.

But as she changed out of her costume and into her warmup clothes, she wondered if it might be too late for that.

2018

Side by side, Killian’s hand clenched tight in Emma’s, they approached the entrance to the ice and stopped to take their skate guards off. Behind the adorable little girl who was going to hold onto them while they performed, Neal and Tamara were coming out of the green room; they were on next, the last pair to skate.

Emma stiffened a bit at seeing them, and she could feel Killian do the same. Terse nods were exchanged, but that was all she let happen before turning her back to them and facing the ice. If she’d learned anything in the past year, it was that she didn’t need Neal anymore and was much better off without him, but he always managed to dredge up that old feeling of insecurity.

Killian knew what she was feeling, though, and squeezed her hand. “Hey—I’ve yet to see you fail,” he whispered, and that was enough to press back those tired thoughts. She smiled up at him; there was no one else she’d want to be doing this with.

“You ready?” she asked, excited.

“Aye,” he answered with a grin.

They stepped out onto the ice hand-in-hand to thunderous applause.

2017

As it turned out, Emma was pretty good at pretending like things never happened, and so was Killian. The events in the locker room in Kansas City never came up again in their next couple months of training for Worlds, and after another whirlwind week—this time in Helsinki—they found themselves in 4th place, just points behind Neal and Tamara.

Which, heading into an Olympic year, meant they were not only favored to medal in PyeongChang, but now found themselves in the midst of a rivalry. They couldn’t say they were surprised, given the situation, but it was kind of funny to see how the media was so quick to pit them against each other in an attempt to stir up interest.

However, she pointedly ignored the speculation that there was more going on between her and Killian. Every pair had that, and every pair had likely pursued that line of thinking at some point, but it actually didn’t happen that often. However, given their histories, the odds were a bit higher in their favor...which made Emma even more resolved to avoid those thoughts and feelings.

Killian made it hard for her, though. He was just so supportive and caring and passionate about what he was doing, and it hadn’t been until Nationals that it really sunk in how different he was from Neal, in all the best ways. Killian wasn’t just in this for himself; he wanted her to succeed as well, and not for his sake, but for her own. “Bloody brilliant, Swan,” had quickly become one of her favorite things to hear.

Once they got back into training for the next season, and started pushing themselves harder, it became even more evident that he was in this for the long haul. It wasn’t just an experiment anymore, and it really hadn’t been in quite some time: they were definitely a team, and completely on each other’s side. There was no way Emma was going to risk messing this up with something as silly as feelings.

She could fight through being hyper aware of his presence at all times. She could handle the heat of his hand on her waist every time they touched, as near-constant as it was. And she could totally stand that earth-shattering grin he gave her after each step forward in their Olympic journey, and the way it made her heart jump as high as she did when he threw her.

Well, maybe she did have a hard time resisting that one, but she’d certainly try. She had an Olympic medal to win, after all. Scratch that—they did.

They threw themselves into training, doing whatever they could to maximize their own potential and skills for the season ahead. They knew what they needed to work on to get an edge over the competition—not just Neal and Tamara, but globally. The Russian pair, siblings Ava and Nikolai, handily won Worlds, and the team from China, Mulan and Li, were just as incredible. There was no time for slouching if they wanted to reach the podium in PyeongChang.

Summer was nothing but ice time, dance class, and strength training, and getting an early start on planning their schedule and routines. Getting a quad jump would be the hardest part, but they were determined to bring that element in to get a competitive edge. They had some early success with it, but decided to hold off on adding it into their program until Nationals for a late boost in scoring.

Before they knew it, they were in Russia for the first Grand Prix event—the first in what would be an 8-week tour of the world, save for skipping the Cup of China to give themselves a week off and make any changes to the program they’d need.

Somehow, they drew the first performance slot in the short program. Emma hated going first, but Killian loved it, for some reason.

“The ice is totally clean and we get to set the bar for everyone else to reach. What could be more thrilling than that?” he effused, bouncing on his toepicks. She just shook her head and chuckled; he had the enthusiasm of a 5-year-old sometimes, and in moments like this, she let it carry her along.

A hush fell over the audience as they took their opening pose. She could feel her stomach start to turn with nerves but Killian, ever observant, just cocked an eyebrow at her and they all melted away just in time for the music to start. Besides, it was hard to do anything but have fun when the score to Pirates of the Caribbean was playing in the background.

As usual, Killian was right: they not only broke their own first-competition record from last year, but they set the highest score overall until Neal and Tamara performed almost at the end.

“Told you,” Killian smugly boasted as they left the kiss-and-cry area. She just elbowed him in response.

At the end of the day, they were third after the short program—Mulan and Li were there, too—and stayed there after a solid, but not perfect, run in the free skate. All in all, a good start. There was a slightly awkward moment when she crossed paths with Tamara in the locker room, but otherwise, the competition was without conflict.

Well, mostly. Killian seemed oddly pissed when he flopped down on his seat in the back of the van taking them to the airport. Right away, she asked, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

He sighed. “Your ex is a bloody wanker, that’s what.”

“Well, I could have told you that.”

A dimple briefly appeared as he smirked, but quickly disappeared. “He was just going on and on about how he and Tamara had this season in the bag, and no one could touch them. That it would be smooth sailing from here to Korea and no one else stood a chance, least of all us.”

Emma’s mouth tightened to a thin line, but she wasn’t quite as angry as she expected to be—though she briefly wondered if Neal did that when they skated together. “He’s an idiot; just ignore it.”

“Oh, I know he was talking out his arse. Just makes me want to kick his all the more.”

“I can drink to that,” she agreed with a smile, putting one back on Killian’s face. (And drink to that they did at the airport bar.) They both knew Ingrid would probably admonish them for setting a target on Neal’s back, but honestly, it was just a stepping stone to the top.

And it paid off. The next weekend at Skate Canada, they actually edged ahead of Neal and Tamara in the short program. The other pair had an incredibly solid triple-triple combination in the free skate that made it hard to beat them, but if Emma and Killian could get that throw quad worked out, it would give them the boost they needed. They continued to practice it, but were just a hair shy on the rotation, enough that it would count against them in scoring.

The following weekend was their one break in Grand Prix season, and they decided to spend it training in PyeongChang. Obviously, they couldn’t use the Olympic facilities, but they managed to find a quiet rink nearby to practice in. It was nice to get away from everything and just focus on them; even in Storybrooke, there were always other skaters peeking in or needing the ice before or after them. They weren’t the only ones here in PyeongChang, but it was much quieter.

One evening after rehearsal, they found themselves wandering the city and ended up outside the construction of the Olympic stadium, where the opening and closing ceremonies would be held. It wasn’t quite done yet, but the lights that lit the scaffoldings around it already made it look magical.

“What’s it like?” Emma asked once they settled onto a nearby bench. She’d been through Worlds and was used to that kind of international competition, but the Olympics were a whole other thing. She might as well know what she getting into from someone who’d been there before, even if it was a while ago.

A small, wistful smile took over Killian’s face. “It’s...simply magical. I can’t think of any other way to describe it. The energy is incredible; the sense of camaraderie. There’s nothing like it.”

“Were you nervous?” Eight years is a long time, especially for a skater; he was almost always cool and collected now, but there had to be a point when he wasn’t.

“Oh, aye, couldn’t help but be. Even thinking about the potential of making these ones gives me butterflies,” he admitted, looking up from the ground to her. “But I knew I had the best person possible at my side, and I trusted her. That was enough.”

She swallowed at the sincerity of his words and the intensity of his gaze. Even if he was talking about Milah, she could pick up on his double meaning. But there was something else there—something she didn’t want to identify, so she looked away lest they have a repeat of Kansas City. They sat there for a few more minutes, until a text from Ingrid summoned them back to the hotel.

On the walk back, Emma’s fingers accidentally brushed against Killian’s, and that same old spark felt like a lighting bolt. She shoved her hands into her pockets and kept them there until she was in her room.

That week in PyeongChang was just what they needed to power through the rest of their Grand Prix schedule. They went back and forth with Neal and Tamara in scores—finally finishing ahead of them at the Internationaux de France—and never finished off the podium at any event. Their first gold medal was Skate America, which also marked their personal best score.

There was a week off of competition in between for Thanksgiving, for which Killian joined her, Ingrid, and Elsa for the first time. It had long been the ladies’ tradition and they were more than happy to bring him into it.

Elsa, however, saw another angle into it. While Ingrid and Killian were working in the kitchen, she cornered Emma. “So, when are you going to admit to yourself that you’re in love with him?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Emma answered coolly. It was well-rehearsed because she knew Elsa was going to comment on it at some point; she just figured it would be some random night at home instead of right before Thanksgiving dinner.

“You certainly do know! Did you forget that I live with you, Emma, and I had to watch you and Neal make out on the couch countless times.”

“Ugh, why are you mentioning him?”

“Because I remember how you looked at him, and I see how you look at Killian. You’re even more infatuated with Killian than you ever were with Neal.”

Elsa had an infuriating knack for pointing out the glaring truth at the most inopportune times, especially when it was something Emma was firmly trying to ignore or deny. But she was right: the intensity of her feelings for Killian, whatever they were, was far deeper than anything she’d felt for Neal, and it honestly terrified her. A quadruple axel scared her less, or whatever that made-up move was in Blades of Glory that killed a person. She may have let Killian in as a friend, but letting him in as more was something she wasn’t ready for yet.

Elsa continued, softly. “I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t want to pressure you. But maybe after you two win that Olympic medal, take him back to the apartment and shag him senseless, okay?”

“Elsa!!”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think he wanted it, too.”

They finished third in the Grand Prix Final in Nagoya. There was a rough spot on the ice that messed up Killian’s takeoff of their double axel in the short program and he ended up on the ice; Emma quickly helped him up and they finished the rest of it without flaw, as with the free skate, but that deduction was just enough to hold them back from overtaking Neal and Tamara in second. The Russians were practically untouchable, but the quad jump would put Emma and Killian in contention with them—if they could get it.

Success was coming much more often as they worked on it in the couple of months before Nationals, but Emma had the tendency to overthink it, and that was usually when she found herself facing away from Killian instead of towards—or worse, face-first on the ice.

It was another late night in the rink and they were there by themselves, much like that night months ago when they’d first struggled with these jumps and ended up spilling their life stories to each other. But this time, the animosity was gone, replaced with a mutual understanding—but there was still a sense of frustration.

After her last mess up, which left her splayed on the ice yet again, Emma just stayed down, mentally berating herself for her inability to get that last half rotation. She was doing everything right, wasn’t she? What was it missing? Or was she trying to force it too much?

Killian’s anxious voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Swan? Emma? Are you alright?” He was on his knees next to her, his hand gently shaking her back. She turned her head to look up at him and was surprised to see him panicking and biting his lip. It wasn’t the first time she’d fallen with him, not by a long shot—but then she remembered what happened with Milah, and suddenly felt terrible.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she assured him, pushing up to sitting. “Sorry; didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

Without warning, he pulled her into a hug. “Damn right, you’re sorry. I can’t lose you, too, Emma.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words as her arms wrapped around him. “I’m fine, I promise,” she murmured into his shoulder, and he squeezed her just a bit tighter. It reminded her of that night in Korea, of the heaviness of his words when she least expected it. It made her want more than she’d ever allow herself to.

If he realized what he’d admitted, he didn’t acknowledge it and broke away. She was relieved to see that his features had relaxed, and he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before continuing. “Just let the jump happen, Emma. You’re trying to force it too hard; I probably am, too. It’s there. Let’s just calm down and do it, okay?”

Her mind briefly traveled to other places on his use of “do it,” but she nodded and let him help her up to standing.

“Just imagine you’re a swan, Swan,” he joked, making her chuckle (and likely succeeding in loosening her nerves).

“I don’t think I’ve done that since I skated to Swan Lake when I was 10.”

“Good thing you got that out of the way early.”

“Oh yeah. And don’t get any ideas.”

Then they took a deep breath and went for it, letting the prep flow from them naturally. She let her feet fall into place, felt Killian grip her hips—just a tiny bit firmer than normal—and then her feet and his body were moving in tandem and she was flying, if only for a moment, twisting through the air and gracefully landing on one leg, looking back at him. He was grinning.

“What’d I tell you? I’ve yet to see you fail,” he shouted as he caught up to her. They did a few more for good measure, landing each one flawlessly.

Part of her couldn’t wait to see the look on Neal’s face when they landed that—but there was no way it could top her thrill at seeing Killian’s smile.

They planned to unveil the jump at Nationals in San Jose. The commentators were buzzing with the news that they had a quad planned for their free skate, and a clean short program had them sitting first headed into the final part of the competition.

Before they took the ice, Killian again was bouncing on his toepicks, but the way he was clenching his jaw betrayed his nerves.

“I’m guessing you don’t share the same feelings about going on last as you do about going first?”

“No, not quite.”

It was her turn to calm him down. “Hey,” she said softly, grabbing his shoulders and stilling him. “We’ve got this. Right?”

He exhaled quickly, as if trying to get the negative thoughts out of his body as fast as possible. “Aye, we do.”

“So let’s go kick some arse.”

He smirked. “Let’s.”

And they did—almost. But there was a different kind of energy and nervousness that came with performing last, and the crowd had cheered awful hard for Neal and Tamara before them. It didn’t faze Emma and Killian much, but enough to only do a triple instead of the quad. The rest of the skate went flawless, but that tiny miss left them ever so slightly behind.

Neal and Tamara took the title again, and Emma and Killian the silver, but only by a point and a half. The most important part, though, was that they were going to the Olympics.

“Are you ready for what comes next, Swan?”

“Hell yeah.”

2018

After a few independent warmup laps of the rink, Emma and Killian met again at center ice, taking their positions on top of those five rings. They wrapped their arms around each other and slid into their opening pose; the feel of his deep breaths against her did more to calm her than anything he could say, but she gave a quick squeeze of encouragement anyway and he did the same.

And then the opening notes of their free skate music, “The Words” by Christina Perri, filtered in, and they were off. All their training, everything they’d been working toward for months—years, even—was on the line, and it all flowed from them naturally and beautifully. Every jump, every lift, every spin felt perfect and organic. They’d had some flawless run-throughs in practice, but with the audience’s energy feeding them, it was something else entirely. Emma had never been one to shy away from pouring her heart into a performance, but that energy combined with her connection to the lyrics and how perfectly they mimicked her own feelings about her partner gave her all she needed to take it to another level. Based on the quiet energy in Killian’s eyes paired with the surety of his every move, she could tell he felt it, too.

And then came the quad. Like everything, they’d rehearsed it so many times, but nerves always threatened to come up. But then she thought of his ridiculous swan analogy and it worked. Time seemed to slow down as she rotated through the air, but then she was solidly back on the ground and her thoughts were drowned out by the audience seconds later. Yet all she noticed was the unstoppable grin on Killian’s face. God, she loved him.

She loved him? Oh, hell, she did. It probably wasn’t the ideal place or time to realize that, but she couldn’t deny it anymore. She loved him.

She couldn’t let that revelation ruin the rest of their program, though, even if not much was left at that point. But she made a point to relish every moment on the ice with him: she held him tighter, reached farther, and gave everything just that extra little bit of finesse that she could, down to the very last second, when she was back in his arms at center ice as the music came to its conclusion and the program ended.

In the background, she was vaguely aware of the audience on its feet. But nothing else registered but the incredible man in her embrace, who was shaking with emotion at the incredible skate they’d just had. She probably was, too, but the only thing on her mind was seeing his face. He pulled back a moment later, laughing with joy and tears brimming at his eyes and there were probably some in hers, too. And she kissed him. She fisted her hands in his dark shirt, tugged him back to her, found his lips, and poured every unsaid word and feeling into that connection. It was like time stood still again, and she could feel his shock as he stiffened next to her but instinctively held her tighter. She broke it before she got too lost in it—the whole world was watching, after all—but damn did it feel good; almost as good as that performance.

He stared at her a bit wide-eyed and slack-jawed for a moment, searching her eyes for an answer to his unasked question. She was an open book to him, she knew, and he quickly found it, but a slight nod said they’d talk about it in a moment. They had other things to finish first.

Whoops now accompanied the general cheering—especially from the performers’ sitting area, where their friends were going nuts (particularly Mary Margaret and Robin). As they took their bows, she knew that somewhere in the audience, Elsa was screaming and blowing up her phone with I-told-you-sos.

She found herself wiping tears from her eyes as she skated towards the ice entrance, completely overcome by everything. She’d just had the performance of her life with the man she loved. How did anyone handle that?

Suddenly, a single rose was in front of her, and a shyly smiling Killian behind it. Laughing—because she knew he’d picked it up off the ice—she took it, and he wrapped his arms around her as they stepped off the rink. Before they grabbed their skate guards, he pressed a firm kiss to her temple that she unconsciously leaned into. She could tell there were so many words on the tip of his tongue, but they were also anxious to get their scores and he was settling with that for now.

Ingrid and Smee were waiting with huge hugs and congratulations in the kiss and cry, but Emma didn’t miss the knowing looks they exchanged before they got there. Emma made sure to thank Ingrid for everything she’d done for her over the years and she knew a similar conversation was happening next to them. And then they settled into the plush chairs to wait for their scores. On an average day, that was almost as nerve wracking as just taking the ice; the feeling was tenfold now.

Finally, the announcer started speaking. “The scores for Swan and Jones of the United States…”

Killian grabbed Emma’s hand while the Korean announcer translated, interlacing their fingers and squeezing tight. He’d never done that before, but hey, what was another first today?

And then the number came up. Emma actually couldn’t remember it exactly, but all she knew was that it was not only their best ever, but also an Olympic record and had them in first by several points. They were guaranteed a medal—all she had come here to do (though, technically, they did already have a silver with Team USA, having taken first in the short program then). But, she had to admit, their proximity to the top had her desperately hoping they’d hold on to first.

Event workers quickly ushered them out of the kiss-and-cry and directed Emma and Killian to a green room, where cameras would be on them until Neal and Tamara got their scores. Mulan & Li and Ava & Nikolai were already in the room, so any conversation with Killian would have to wait. They greeted their competitors—who had all skated fantastic—and then settled on the loveseat in the middle of the room to watch the final performance on a large monitor.

Neal had a tense look on his face as the pair hit their opening pose, but Tamara seemed unfazed; good for her. Emma could already tell, from personal experience, that it was going to take Tamara keeping her cool for the pair to succeed—Neal had never done well under this kind of pressure.

They started smooth, and Emma could tell they both relaxed as they got going. This was really the first time she’d let herself watch them without figuring out how to beat them, and she had to admit: they fit together really well, better than she ever had with Neal. But not as well as she and Killian.

It was a nearly flawless skate, and Emma found herself getting a bit nervous. But then, on a side-by-side jump late in the routine, Neal missed a good chunk of the rotation—more than what was allowed by the judges. It was a common mistake of his, and he probably deserved it given the mouthing off and boasting he’d been doing. But that would hold them back a few points—points they had needed if they wanted to overtake Emma and Killian.

Killian’s hand found hers again as they watched the rest of the performance, and they wordlessly waited for Neal and Tamara’s scores; it was almost as stressful as waiting for their own.

Minutes seemed to drag waiting for the announcement, but finally, the numbers were up on the screen, and—it wasn’t enough. Neal and Tamara took third. Emma and Killian took gold.

She turned to Killian, breathless. “We did it. Oh my God, we did it.”

He was grinning again, making her heart race with both adrenaline and love. “I told you: I’ve yet to see you fail.”

She didn’t waste another moment to wrap her arms around him, and then everything set in and she just started crying and bouncing in her seat. Olympic gold. Olympic GOLD. What was her life?

A hand on her shoulder made her pull away; Mulan was there, offering congratulations, so Emma quickly stood to hug her and offer her own on their silver medal. The room just turned into a mess of friendly embraces and well wishes, and she knew more would await them outside, but once the other pairs left the room, she was quick to get back to Killian’s side.

He was still smiling, cheeks rosy with joy, and she held his face in her hands and wiped his own tear streaks away with her thumb.

“I need to tell you something,” she started, finally not scared of her own feelings.

“What’s that?” His face and voice softened, realizing the gravity of the moment.

Confidently, she answered, “I love you.”

“Do you actually mean that, Swan, or is it just because of all of this?” he lightly teased, gesturing around them.

“No, for real—I love you.”

“Good. I love you, too.”

And they kissed again, and she didn’t care if the cameras were on them or who could see. Let them watch. She’d just medaled at the Olympics with her best friend and she was going to celebrate how she saw fit.

Later, as the national anthem played and she stood on top of the podium, the wonderfully heavy weight around her neck had her reflecting on everything that had brought her there. This journey may have started off with a broken heart and a far-off dream, but it ended up bringing her gold and something even more precious than it: him.

(They kissed one more time for the crowd, under the flag and the lights. And then she finally took Elsa’s advice and took him back to her Olympic Village apartment. The rest was history.)

thanks to @optomisticgirl for beta’ing!!! tagging some other friends: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @fairytalesandtimetravel @word-bug @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @flipperbrain @disastergirl @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @jscoutfinch @nfbagelperson @stubble-sandwich​​ @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @jackieorioncat

[ao3bronte]

Smutember: Foreplay

Masquerade on AO3

It's lunchtime on the first day back at school after spring break and it’s warmer than normal for this time of year. As a result, the four of them are settled beneath the shade of an old oak tree in the courtyard outside for the first time this year, chatting quietly and eating their lunches. Adrien sits cross-legged across from Alya and Nino in Versace jeans and a Kelly-green Pierre Balmain cashmere sweater that brings out the colour of his eyes; Marinette tries not to marvel at him the yarn grade of the fabric.

"That's the thing!" Alya gesticulates wildly, "No one knows what happened! No one was there to film it, no one actually saw Ladybug defeat him. We don't even know what happened to the guy!"

"She's been talking about this non-stop by the way," Nino points to her with his thumb, harried like he’s heard this a thousand times before, "She's full-on obsessed."

“It’s insane! Everything is insane!”

“It’s been a week Alya.”

“I don’t care! I’ve been moderating thousands of comments non-stop on the LadyBlog. I’m going to need to hire an assistant at this rate.”

“Don’t look at me,” Nino takes a bite from his sandwich, “I’ve got a real job.”

“Why wait tables when you could work with me? Think of all the fun we could have—”

“And that’s enough of that,” Marinette interrupts, spinning leftover pasta around her fork, “Can we change the subject?”

“No, we can’t. I need to know what happened and I’m not going to stop until I can figure it out.”

"I wouldn’t worry too much about it," Adrien shrugs, forking a strip of chicken breast.

"Easy for you to say," Alya interjects, "You weren't even here!"

“Yeah man, you didn’t see the craziness first hand, it was wild. Where were you anyway?”

“Monaco, and I still saw it on the news, my phone was blowing up for hours. But Ladybug saved the day, and she always will," he turns to Marinette and smiles, "I trust her to do the right thing. She’s certainly saved all our skins a million times before. Remember troisième?"

Nino nods in agreement, “Dude, it was like everyone got akumatised.”

“Everyone except the two of you,” Alya pouts at Marinette, “I always wondered what you would turn into.”

“Lady Croissant?” Nino snickers and Marinette goes to throw her fork at him, “No no, Madame Macaron! How dare the people of Paris snack on potato chips and hamburgers when they can eat sweets!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Marinette stabs the end of her fork into Nino’s arms and he falls over in mock-pain, holding his ‘wounded’ appendage, “How would that even work? Why would I be mad enough about macarons to get akumatised?”

“No, Marinette would definitely be akumatised by Chloe,” Alya says, bunting her boyfriend with her elbow, “Honestly though, how have you not been akumatised by her already?”

“Beats me,” Marinette shrugs and gets back to her pasta, “I guess I’m just lucky.”

Adrien gives her a funny look and Marinette returns it, “Are you all right?”

“Hm?” Adrien blinks slowly, “Yeah no, I was just imagining what you would look like as Madame Macaron. Bright pink dress maybe? Would you throw macarons at people?”

“Enough about Madame Macaron,” she shakes her head in playful indignation, “Why aren’t you making fun of him? He hasn’t been akumatised either.”

Nino and Alya turn to Adrien and pause to consider.

“Monsieur La Mode? You could like, target the hipsters or something.”

Adrien gives him an incredulous look, “Really? That’s the best you can come up with? I’m thinking more like Le Blagueur!”

Marinette raises a brow and takes another bite of her pasta, “What? How is that an evil superpower?”

“I would tell really bad puns until the city of Paris gave into my demands!”

“Well, considering someone almost took over the city with a flock of pigeons, I guess that could work,” Alya nods approvingly, “I like it.”

“Right?” he sides up to Marinette and bumps her shoulder with her own, watching the blush spread across her cheeks, “Think of the pastabilities.”

Marinette rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at him, “One more pun from you today Monsieur and I’ll—”

“Now now, don’t be a putain-esca.”

Nino oooohs as Marinette scooches closer, eyeing Adrien fiercely.

“A putain-esca? Really? That’s all you’ve got?”

Adrien narrows his eyes and grins, “You’re right, can we put this little disagreement pastas?”

“Pho the love of god, stop it.”

“Ooo! She gives as good as she gets! Go ahead, penne for your thoughts?”

“Your puns are soba-d.”

“I dough’t know what you’re talking about. My puns are amazing.”

“Alright, I’m done,” she aims her fork at him and Adrien artfully dodges out of the way, “What has gotten into you today?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just doing it fusilli reasons.”

“UGH!”

Marinette throws her hands in the air and looks over towards Alya, who’s happily videotaping the whole exchange on her mobile while Nino watches over her shoulder and nods in appreciation.

“You too? Ugh,” she flops backwards onto the grass and stares up at the sky beyond the leaves of the tree, feeling the warmth creep up into her skin. It’s the heat she so often attributes to her powers as Ladybug, the one that begs to be as close to the Chat Miraculous as possible. Licking her lips, she wonders why it’s suddenly flaring now and hopes to goodness it isn’t because she’s subconsciously associating Adrien’s little pun war with Chat, because that? That would be humiliating.

~

“I had the best day at school today.”

Marinette lands beside Chat at their usual starting position for Monday Night Patrol, “Yeah?”

“I did! It was awesome,” he flicks his hair out of his face and settles in his usual hunch, “I got to hang out with my friends again. I haven’t seen them in ages.”

Marinette nods and sits down on the ledge he’s perched on, “I haven’t seen my friends in a while either. It was nice to catch up.”

“Right?” Chat smiles and Marinette catches his silhouette in the moonlight, “It felt like normal again.”

Marinette pulls her leg up, tucking her thigh against her abdomen, “It’s starting to feel like it. I’m glad the news is focusing on other things now, like this heat wave.”

“It’s been warm for April hasn’t it?” Chat replies, looking like he wants to tug at his own collar. Like hers, his magical suit is fused to his body and she can only imagine how hot he must get when he’s inside it during the summer months.

“Do you like the heat?”

“I don’t mind it,” he shrugs, “I get a mean tan every summer when I go to St. Barths. But I also like the cooler weather.”

“Wait, what? You go to St. Barths every summer?!”

Chat’s eyes go wide, “Uh, well. I mean, not every summer. I’ve been there like, twice and I, I was just exaggerating because, you know, I…I do that sometimes. Anyway, enough about me. Let’s go patrol the mean streets of Paris!”

Chat leaps off the ledge and disappears into the night before Marinette can even come up with a reply. She’s baffled more than anything; St. Barths is expensive!

She leaps after him and they fall into an easy rhythm after a while, joking and cajoling each other into doing silly parkour inspired tricks across the city. There’s no real rush or sense of urgency; Le Papillon is still AWOL and the streets are fairly quiet, meaning that there isn’t a whole lot going happening to worry about, and it suits the two of them just fine.

The heat beneath her skin is back and soon they’re leaping across rooftops side by side, never less than a metre away. The itch always pulls them back into each other’s orbits until they eventually collide, driven together by the magical forces between them, not unlike that of gravity. Conceding, they pause to catch their breath at Le Perchoir Marais, a rooftop lounge in St. Gervais that’s become a bit of an icon in their personal history.

After all, it’s where this whole mess started in the first place.

“Remember the first time we landed here?”

Marinette blushes profusely, staring at the couches made of wooden pallets, “Mmhmm.”

Chat steps into her personal space and grazes his claws along her arms, “I thought it was the best night of my life.”

Marinette plants her hands on her hips, “What?”

“That is,” he closes the gap between them and weaves his fingers with her own, pulling her closer, “Until the next night, and then the one after that. In fact, every night we’ve been together has far surpassed the night before it.”

Marinette smirks and shakes her head, “You are such a romantic.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing M’Lady.”

“Love doesn’t just happen Chat. You’ve got to work at it, it takes time and patience and two people who actually want to make it work.”

“Well, I think I have my side of it down pat,” he says, gesturing for her to take a seat. She does and he sits down beside her, the moonlight catching the subtly mirth in his expression.

“You know how I feel about this,” she cautions and Chat just shrugs.

“Who’s saying we’re even having this conversation? I’d much rather be doing other things with my mouth anyway.”

Marinette is grateful for the change of subject, “Yeah? Like what?”

“Like this,” he purrs and captures her lips with his own, the itch of his Miraculous rearing its head. She grabs onto the back of his neck and quickly pries his lips open with a swift flounce of her tongue, diving in with vigour. He responds in kind, both of them clearly consumed by the itch, but there’s a different edge to it that softens Chat’s kisses and his gentleness only makes her more and more restless.

He breaks apart to breathe, "Do you remember the first time I swept you off your feet—"

"I'm pretty sure I swept you off yours, if I remember correctly."

"Semantics, Ladybug. Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted—"

"You kind of collapsed against that railing over there—"

"When we first kissed against the railings—"

"And I had to haul you upright because I thought you were fainting—"

"It was the most magical moment of my life up until that instant —"

"And I thought you were going to cry—"

"My knees were weak knowing that I had finally gotten my wish—"

"It was kind of funny to be honest—”

“Have I ever told you how sexy it is when you talk over me like that?”

“Yeah? I can think of plenty of other things I’d rather be doing over top of you.”

Chat gulps, “Is this your way of telling me to shut up?”

“Is that not obvious?”

Chat goes to open his mouth in reply but she is so done, so done with him talking. She feels things when he talks and she’d rather not feel anything but the feel of his body against hers, his skin against her skin. When her emotions were promptly thrown onto the backburner, things were so much easier; after all, having sex with him was so much easier than making love.

“Let's do something productive with that mouth of yours,” she mutters, pushing him onto his back on the pallet couch. She covers his eyes with one hand and detransforms, using the other to slip the mask on over her head. She’s already wearing a skirt and hastily pulls her panties down past her thighs, flicking them onto the cocktail table to her left. She’s finally rendered him speechless, what with the way she nearly tears her skirt off as she crawls closer to him and, seeing nothing but pure eagerness in his expression, she presses her clit to his face and lets him do what he does best.

For all his terrible jokes, he certainly has a talented tongue and god, the way he runs it against her lower lips and uses his nose to spread her open is perfect in every way. It's been ages since they've done this, ages since they've just decompressed together and fucked each other without a care in the world, ages since they just gave in to the itch. Too many emotions this week, too much of everything and Marinette forcefully shuts her mind down so she can just concentrate on his tongue and teeth and lips.

She grinds down against him and he grips her thighs, the pads of his fingers pressing bruises into her skin. She likes it a little rough, likes the juxtaposition of pleasure and pain that forces her to focus on nothing but him and he exploits it, knows it and takes advantage of it, grazing his teeth against her clit. She throws her head back and keens at the way he soothes the sting, alternating between licking and sucking with his lips. His pace is torturous, slow and purposely inconsistent, and it's driving her insane.

Frustrated, she bucks her hips and he gets the hint, reaching back and scratching his fingernails against her ass and thighs. It feels good and keeps her centered, keeps her focused on the pleasure and not on the identity of the boy underneath her, eager and impossible.

Intrinsically, he senses her flickering focus and ups the ante, doing things with his tongue she's never felt before. She wonders what kind of things he had to watch in order to learn them and imagines what he'd look like stroking himself, imagines that snap he'd sent her a few weeks ago with his hand around his cock.

Eyes closed, she braces one hand on the rooftop railing and busies the other with her breast, pinching her nipple through the lace of her bralette. The sensation makes her practically gush into Chat's mouth, the friction delicious as she closes her eyes and begins to lose control of her rhythm. He takes the reins and keeps her going, urging her closer and closer to release and god, it feels good when he hums against her just like that and yes, Chat, right there, faster, oh!

Marinette arches her back and comes, heedless of the sounds she's making. She loses control of her hips and grinds down, a victim to the way her toes are curling and her lips are screaming, lost in the sensation. It feels amazing and sucks the life out of her all at once, all encompassing and addictive.

Coming down and still shaking, she manages to sit back on her haunches and happily lets Chat manipulate her body to free himself. Her limbs feel like rubber, sated and debauched, and she shivers at the way he licks his lips and grins.

"I love it when you scream my name like that," he gloats and Marinette's not quite working at all cylinders yet and grunts at him in response.

“Chat got your tongue?”

Marinette just glares at him, mentally daring him to make another stupid joke. He laughs and crawls forward instead, kissing her chastely before responding.

“Care to return the favour?”

[wittypenguin]

The Fifth Element (1997)

It’s easy to forget that SF Thrillers can be FUN!! After the dark, cynical, Kafka-esque worlds of Blade Runner, Gattaca, Total Recall, Contact, Brazil, Minority Report, and 12 Monkeys — brilliant though they all are in their own ways — something fun can feel like a breath of fresh air! For those who doubt the fabulous of this film, remember this: it was selected as the opening film for the 1997 Cannes Film Festival. No, really, it was!

Luc Besson wanted to show the future is not dark and dangerous. "This future is very funny." - CITE

There are moments in this which are, quite frankly, insane. This is good. This is to be encouraged. But Chris Tucker’s character is problematic to me: DJ Ruby Rhod is clearly a satirical commentary on the Celebrity Culture where Cultural Icons and Influencers are famous for being Celebrities. His self-obsessed character is an entirely logical conclusion of today’s reality culture. He’s hyper-sexual and hyper-fashionable and just plain hyper-active. So... Why does he also have to be hyper-effeminate? Is the rest not already sufficient? Apparently, Prince was the first choice for the role, but It’s unlikely he would have been so effete. Everything else which makes the character works perfectly, that last aspect just seems like they’re going for the cheap laugh at the expense of ‘teh gays.’ Ugh.

The explosion towards the end of the film in the Fhloston main hall is suitably impressive. Given that this was the largest indoor explosion ever filmed, the resulting fire almost went beyond control, taking twenty-five minutes to put out, and it resulted in massive damage of the Albert R Broccoli 007 soundstage at Pinewood Studios, one would expect nothing less.

At one point early-on, the evil corporate master Zorg [Gary Oldman, above] provides a short lecture promoting the “Broken Window Fallacy,” demonstrating just how deeply embedded his evil is. We’ve already seen him fire one million cab drivers in a stroke, as well as sell the collective souls of humanity for some unspecified — but clearly insane in scope — sum of money. His justification for doing these sorts of things is quite terrifying. In the scene, he is accused of being someone with whom the Priest would never cooperate.

Zorg: What's wrong with me?

Priest Vito Cornelius: I try to serve life. And you seem to want to destroy it.

Zorg: Oh, Father. You're so wrong. Let me explain.      [Puts an empty water glass on his desk]      Life, which you so nobly serve, comes from destruction, disorder and chaos. Now take this empty glass. Here it is: peaceful, serene, boring. But if it is destroyed…      [Pushes the glass off the table. It shatter on the floor, and several small machines come out to clean it up]      Look at all these little things! So busy now! Notice how each one is useful. A lovely ballet ensues, so full of form and colour. Now, think about all those people that created them. Technicians, engineers, hundreds of people, who will be able to feed their children tonight, so those children can grow up big and strong and have little teeny children of their own, and so on and so forth. Thus, adding to the great chain of life. You see, father, by causing a little destruction, I am in fact encouraging life. In reality, you and I are in the same business.

This notion of ‘destruction creating productivity’ is a classic economics fallacy exposed in the essay The Parable of the Broken Window by French economist Frederic Bastiat in 1850 (originally titled Ce qu’on voit et ce qu’on ne voit pas or “That Which Is Seen and That Which Is Not Seen”). Taken to its logical conclusion, Zorg and other proponents of this idea would be going about merrily smashing everything in their sight in order to create jobs. They might even argue that the smashing of things would itself be a creation of jobs in order to accomplish the increase of smashing things. Setting aside the fact that it takes more time to make things than break things, there many things which rely on other things existing in useful states in order to make the other more complicated things. If, say, all champagne glasses are broken, how then does one make a champagne glass fountain? If there is a vast supply of polio vaccine, but no intravenous needles exist, how does one satisfy the demand for the product? This is an economic boon which cannot sustain itself.

This also reflects his short-sighted approach to the planet and its life: he has an all-consuming desire for as all the money which is available, but once he gains that vast treasure, the act which provides him with it also destroys his ability to spend it on anything worth the having of. To put it simply: He is an idiot.

There are many many parallels with Blade Runner, in addition to the inclusion of Brion James as General Munro. There’s the massively overpopulated New York City, the flying cars, the huge lighted billboards, the ease of access to Asian food with its proprietor providing information to the hero, and the all-powerful corporate owner who does what they want in any number of industries (sometimes replaced or supplemented with Government Agencies). Many of these come as part of the package with the “world of the future” trope, especially if aliens are involved; especially if ‘Alien’ is in the title somehow.

Yet here, inexplicably, these same elements are blended where we see the positive in the negative. As the restauranteur Mr Kim says to Korben Dallas: “Good philosophy, see good in bad, I like.” The writer and director of The Fifth Element, Luc Besson, has embraced this fully. Despite all this evil in the world, there are truly good people as well, which we see in Bruce Willis’ Korben Dallas, Maïwenn’s Diva Plavalaguna, Ian Holm’s Cornelius, and Milla Jovovich’s Leeloo (full name is "Leeloominaï Lekatariba Lamina-Tchaï Ekbat De Sebat"). Certainly, Gary Oldman’s Zorg is quintessentially evil, even psychopathically so, as he shows no remorse about getting what he wants is any way, but he is presented in such a way that this chaotic evil of his can have its knees knocked out from under it with humour, that power being immediately taken away from him in a Riddikulus spell-like moment. That ability to reduce the powerful illusion of the bad which is plaguing the world is something we need more and more it seems, and it would be excellent if we could find a way to have this skill in our all too real lives.

★★★★☆

[inloveandwords]

The Buzzword Readathon starts on Monday and I’m SO ready.

OK, maybe not SO ready, but kind of ready and also nervous because I have a lot of physical books on my list and only one audio. Finding time to sit down and read a physical book is always a challenge for me, but that’s the whole point right?

If you’d rather watch this TBR and rec, check out my video here:

Otherwise, keep reading!

Buzzword Readathon TBR

The Girl Who Drank the Moon by Kelly Barnhill

Every year, the people of the Protectorate leave a baby as an offering to the witch who lives in the forest. They hope this sacrifice will keep her from terrorizing their town. But the witch in the forest, Xan, is kind and gentle. She shares her home with a wise Swamp Monster named Glerk and a Perfectly Tiny Dragon, Fyrian. Xan rescues the abandoned children and deliver them to welcoming families on the other side of the forest, nourishing the babies with starlight on the journey.

One year, Xan accidentally feeds a baby moonlight instead of starlight, filling the ordinary child with extraordinary magic. Xan decides she must raise this enmagicked girl, whom she calls Luna, as her own. To keep young Luna safe from her own unwieldy power, Xan locks her magic deep inside her. When Luna approaches her thirteenth birthday, her magic begins to emerge on schedule–but Xan is far away. Meanwhile, a young man from the Protectorate is determined to free his people by killing the witch. Soon, it is up to Luna to protect those who have protected her–even if it means the end of the loving, safe world she’s always known.

What if it’s Us by Becky Albertalli & Adam Silvera

Arthur is only in New York for the summer, but if Broadway has taught him anything, it’s that the universe can deliver a showstopping romance when you least expect it.

Ben thinks the universe needs to mind its business. If the universe had his back, he wouldn’t be on his way to the post office carrying a box of his ex-boyfriend’s things.

But when Arthur and Ben meet-cute at the post office, what exactly does the universe have in store for them?

Maybe nothing. After all, they get separated.

Maybe everything. After all, they get reunited.

But what if they can’t quite nail a first date . . . or a second first date . . . or a third?

What if Arthur tries too hard to make it work . . . and Ben doesn’t try hard enough?

What if life really isn’t like a Broadway play?

But what if it is?

Anywhere but Here by Stephanie Hoffman McManus

Seven years ago, I left Conway, South Carolina swearing I would never go back. I put that town in my rearview and didn’t stop until there were several hundred miles between me and the memories I wanted to leave behind. But you can’t outrun your own heart. The past always comes back, and it didn’t matter how far I went, I couldn’t erase the mark he left. I’d never met anyone like Kellen Nash before. He made me feel so . . . alive. Until I made the mistake of falling in love with him. I spent seven years trying to forget only to be forced to come face to face with him again. I wasn’t prepared for old wounds to be reopened or for him to still have this effect on me. He nearly broke me once. I won’t give him the chance to do it again, even if he does still look at me like he can see everything I keep hidden inside. There’s too much history between us, like the North and the South, to forgive and forget so easily, but the longer I’m back, the more I start to question what really happened then, and the more I worry about what will happen if he discovers my biggest secret.

At seventeen she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and not at all what I expected. A girl like her didn’t belong with a guy like me, but that didn’t stop me from wanting her, or breaking her heart. I never thought I’d see her again, but she’s back. Only she isn’t the girl I knew. In her place is an angry spitfire even more gorgeous than I remember, and she’s determined to take all that anger out on me. I’ve spent seven years missing her, living with the regret of letting her go, and when I start to catch glimpses of the girl I loved, I realize it’s never too late. Or is it?

When Dimple Met Rishi by Sandhya Menon

Dimple Shah has it all figured out. With graduation behind her, she’s more than ready for a break from her family, from Mamma’s inexplicable obsession with her finding the “Ideal Indian Husband.” Ugh. Dimple knows they must respect her principles on some level, though. If they truly believed she needed a husband right now, they wouldn’t have paid for her to attend a summer program for aspiring web developers…right?

Rishi Patel is a hopeless romantic. So when his parents tell him that his future wife will be attending the same summer program as him—wherein he’ll have to woo her—he’s totally on board. Because as silly as it sounds to most people in his life, Rishi wants to be arranged, believes in the power of tradition, stability, and being a part of something much bigger than himself.

The Shahs and Patels didn’t mean to start turning the wheels on this “suggested arrangement” so early in their children’s lives, but when they noticed them both gravitate toward the same summer program, they figured, Why not?

Dimple and Rishi may think they have each other figured out. But when opposites clash, love works hard to prove itself in the most unexpected ways.

Why We Broke Up by Daniel Handler

Min Green and Ed Slaterton are breaking up, so Min is writing Ed a letter and giving him a box. Inside the box is why they broke up. Two bottle caps, a movie ticket, a folded note, a box of matches, a protractor, books, a toy truck, a pair of ugly earrings, a comb from a motel room, and every other item collected over the course of a giddy, intimate, heartbreaking relationship. Item after item is illustrated and accounted for, and then the box, like a girlfriend, will be dumped.

Roar by Stacy Sims

Women are not small men. Stop eating and training like one.

Because most nutrition products and training plans are designed for men, it’s no wonder that so many female athletes struggle to reach their full potential. ROAR is a comprehensive, physiology-based nutrition and training guide specifically designed for active women. This book teaches you everything you need to know to adapt your nutrition, hydration, and training to your unique physiology so you can work with, rather than against, your female physiology. Exercise physiologist and nutrition scientist Stacy T. Sims, PhD, shows you how to be your own biohacker to achieve optimum athletic performance.

Complete with goal-specific meal plans and nutrient-packed recipes to optimize body composition, ROAR contains personalized nutrition advice for all stages of training and recovery. Customizable meal plans and strengthening exercises come together in a comprehensive plan to build a rock-solid fitness foundation as you build lean muscle where you need it most, strengthen bone, and boost power and endurance. Because women’s physiology changes over time, entire chapters are devoted to staying strong and active through pregnancy and menopause. No matter what your sport is—running, cycling, field sports, triathlons—this book will empower you with the nutrition and fitness knowledge you need to be in the healthiest, fittest, strongest shape of your life.

♥ ♥ ♥

Buzzword Readathon Recs from my Bookshelf

Hideous Love by Stephanie Hemphill

An all-consuming love affair.

A family torn apart by scandal.

A young author on the brink of greatness.

Hideous Love is the fascinating story of Gothic novelist Mary Shelley, who as a teen girl fled her restrictive home only to find herself in the shadow of a brilliant but moody boyfriend, famed poet Percy Shelley. It is the story of the mastermind behind one of the most iconic figures in all of literature: a monster constructed out of dead bodies and brought to life by the tragic Dr. Frankenstein.

Mary wrote Frankenstein at the age of nineteen, but inspiration for the monster came from her life-the atmospheric European settings she visited, the dramas swirling around her, and the stimulating philosophical discussions with the greatest minds of the period, like her close friend, Lord Byron.

This luminous verse novel from award-winning author Stephanie Hemphill reveals how Mary Shelley became one of the most celebrated authors in history.

What I Thought Was True by Huntley Fitzpatrick

Gwen Castle has never so badly wanted to say good-bye to her island home till now: the summer her Biggest Mistake Ever, Cassidy Somers, takes a job there as the local yard boy. He’s a rich kid from across the bridge in Stony Bay, and she hails from a family of fishermen and housecleaners who keep the island’s summer people happy. Gwen worries a life of cleaning houses will be her fate too, but just when it looks like she’ll never escape her past—or the island—Gwen’s dad gives her some shocking advice. Sparks fly and secret histories unspool as Gwen spends a gorgeous, restless summer struggling to resolve what she thought was true—about the place she lives, the people she loves, and even herself—with what really is.

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Everyone in Shaker Heights was talking about it that summer: how Isabelle, the last of the Richardson children, had finally gone around the bend and burned the house down.

In Shaker Heights, a placid, progressive suburb of Cleveland, everything is meticulously planned – from the layout of the winding roads, to the colours of the houses, to the successful lives its residents will go on to lead. And no one embodies this spirit more than Elena Richardson, whose guiding principle is playing by the rules.

Enter Mia Warren – an enigmatic artist and single mother – who arrives in this idyllic bubble with her teenage daughter Pearl, and rents a house from the Richardsons. Soon Mia and Pearl become more than just tenants: all four Richardson children are drawn to the alluring mother-daughter pair. But Mia carries with her a mysterious past, and a disregard for the rules that threatens to upend this carefully ordered community.

When the Richardsons’ friends attempt to adopt a Chinese-American baby, a custody battle erupts that dramatically divides the town and puts Mia and Mrs. Richardson on opposing sides. Suspicious of Mia and her motives, Mrs. Richardson becomes determined to uncover the secrets in Mia’s past. But her obsession will come at unexpected and devastating costs to her own family – and Mia’s.

Little Fires Everywhere explores the weight of long-held secrets and the ferocious pull of motherhood-and the danger of believing that planning and following the rules can avert disaster, or heartbreak.

When the Moon Was Ours by Anna-Marie McLemore

To everyone who knows them, best friends Miel and Sam are as strange as they are inseparable. Roses grow out of Miel’s wrist, and rumors say that she spilled out of a water tower when she was five. Sam is known for the moons he paints and hangs in the trees, and for how little anyone knows about his life before he and his mother moved to town. But as odd as everyone considers Miel and Sam, even they stay away from the Bonner girls, four beautiful sisters rumored to be witches. Now they want the roses that grow from Miel’s skin, convinced that their scent can make anyone fall in love. And they’re willing to use every secret Miel has fought to protect to make sure she gives them up.

How to Find Love in a Bookshop by Veronica Henry

The enchanting story of a bookshop, its grieving owner, a supportive literary community, and the extraordinary power of books to heal the heart

Nightingale Books, nestled on the main street in an idyllic little village, is a dream come true for book lovers–a cozy haven and welcoming getaway for the literary-minded locals. But owner Emilia Nightingale is struggling to keep the shop open after her beloved father’s death, and the temptation to sell is getting stronger. The property developers are circling, yet Emilia’s loyal customers have become like family, and she can’t imagine breaking the promise she made to her father to keep the store alive.

There’s Sarah, owner of the stately Peasebrook Manor, who has used the bookshop as an escape in the past few years, but it now seems there’s a very specific reason for all those frequent visits. Next is roguish Jackson, who, after making a complete mess of his marriage, now looks to Emilia for advice on books for the son he misses so much. And the forever shy Thomasina, who runs a pop-up restaurant for two in her tiny cottage–she has a crush on a man she met in the cookbook section, but can hardly dream of working up the courage to admit her true feelings.

Enter the world of Nightingale Books for a serving of romance, long-held secrets, and unexpected hopes for the future–and not just within the pages on the shelves. How to Find Love in a Bookshop is the delightful story of Emilia, the unforgettable cast of customers whose lives she has touched, and the books they all cherish.

♥ ♥ ♥

Buzzword Readathon Recs I’ve Read

Atheists Who Kneel and Pray by Tarryn Fisher

Yara Phillips is a wandering muse.

She dates men who need her, but always moves on to something new, never staying in one place for very long.

David Lisey is in need of a muse.

A talented musician lacking lyrical inspiration. When he first sees her, he knows he’s found what he’s been looking for.

Yara believes she can give David exactly what he needs to reach his full potential: A broken heart.

David’s religion is love.

Yara’s religion is heartache.

Neither is willing to surrender, but religion always requires sacrifice.

The Sky is Everywhere by Jandy Nelson

Adrift after her sister Bailey’s sudden death, Lennie finds herself torn between quiet, seductive Toby—Bailey’s boyfriend who shares her grief—and Joe, the new boy in town who bursts with life and musical genius. Each offers Lennie something she desperately needs… though she knows if the two of them collide her whole world will explode.

Join Lennie on this heartbreaking and hilarious journey of profound sorrow and mad love, as she makes colossal mistakes and colossal discoveries, as she traipses through band rooms and forest bedrooms and ultimately right into your heart.

As much a celebration of love as a poignant portrait of loss, Lennie’s struggle to sort her own melody out of the noise around her is always honest, often uproarious, and absolutely unforgettable.

Where the Silence Gathers by Kelsey Sutton

In this companion novel to the critically acclaimed Some Quiet Place, Alex must choose between Revenge and Forgiveness.

For as long as she can remember, Alexandra Tate has been able to see personified Emotions, and she’s found a best friend in Revenge. He’s her constant companion as she waits outside Nate Foster’s house, clutching a gun. Every night since Nate’s release from prison, Alex has tried to work up the courage to exact her own justice on him for the drunk driving accident that killed her family.

But there’s one problem: Forgiveness. When he appears, Alex is faced with a choice—moving on or getting even. It’s impossible to decide with Forgiveness whispering in one ear . . . and Revenge whispering in the other.

Buzzword Readathon TBR & Recs! + {New Video} The Buzzword Readathon starts on Monday and I'm SO ready. OK, maybe not SO ready, but kind of ready and also nervous because I have a lot of physical books on my list and only one audio.

[seriouslysoulsearching-blog]

I’ve been so, so busy

The whole month of January has practically gone by and I haven’t posted anything! Day shift at work is VERY consuming. The pace is SO different from nights. The first week or two of working days I felt like my head was spinning from trying to keep up with all the buzz of day shift and trying to learn new stuff. Not to mention waking up at 5 in the morning--ugh! I feel like crap every morning I wake up. I just zombie through the first hour and a half until I get onto the floor. However, once the day starts, I hit the ground running. I don’t feel tired during the day because there’s literally any time to sit. When I come home, I’m WIPED. Days has a whole different pace because there’s more daily meds to be given,  discharges/admissions happen more frequently, report to the NPs, talking to the patient’s and their families. It’s A LOT but I’m still liking it. I feel so incredibly grateful to be working on the unit that I do. The floor itself is interesting because it’s trauma. It’s not boring as shit like a general med-surg floor would be. It’s a smaller unit and the patients still share 2 to a room and the floor is sectioned off in pods so all my patients are in the same area (i.e: I’m not running all over the place) And most importantly, the staff are WONDERFUL people. So open to giving help and teaching me when I ask questions/ask for assistance. They are so friendly and so nice. Even though I enjoyed nights, I’m going to officially work for days. My manager approached me two or so weeks ago and told me that I would have the option to choose what shift I would work once orientation ends (which is Feb 4th--two weeks away!!???!?!) since there are people leaving on both shifts. I was a little undecided for a few days, but I was sold working for days when I was able to actually be productive on my days off--such as: running errands, seeing friends, or simply having time to myself. I’ve even gone out after work a few times to meet up with friends.

Which brings me to my next point I wanted to mention, I’ve been feeling more up to socializing than I have in a really long time. And most importantly, I finally feel like I’m beginning to be more like myself again. I feel lighter in the sense that my mind is less heavy. Don’t get me wrong, my anxiety is prevalent on the regular, but I’m laughing more sincerely--I mean like good belly laughs, almost crying. I’m getting along SO much better with my mom--I’m able to practice more patience with her. I don’t know if that’s because it’s a good week for me or that’s how it’ll hopefully move forward with my mom. I think now that she see’s me working and making a living, she’s giving me more space/ given me more respect. Which is nice but I should have been getting that regardless. I DIGRESS. Back to my point. I’ve been socializing more as of late. My old friend Jack texted me earlier this week inviting me to see his band play at a place in Philly. He said Cate, Zayna, Jess were going and that after his gig they were just gonna drink afterwards at that bar. I had work that night but I told him I’d come afterwards. I figured I hadn’t seen my old high school friends in quite some time and it would be a great setting to meet up with them--and I was exactly right, I had a ton of fun with them. I felt like I always say I want to hang out with that group when they’re hanging/ say I want to see Jack play, but never follow through. But on Thursday night, I followed through and had a good time. I brought a change of clothes with me to work, got changed and cleaned up in the staff locker room, and pushed through the sleepiness. I’m glad I did! Cate is my true connection left to that group. Well, actually, Zayna will always be my bud too, we’ve always been so comfortable with each other and every time we see each other we leave off right were we left it. Anyway, I’m just proud I followed through this time. THEN, Friday night (yesterday), I met up with Lindsay. I texted her last weekend out of the blue and asked if she wanted to get drinks in the city. I wanted to see her new apartment and catch up. I feel like now that I’m single and working, when I do have time off, I want to be more proactive. I had a GREAT time with her as well. Our conversation was so fun. Considering we’ve known each other since we were three, we’ve had a natural connection, so that too felt really natural. I wasn’t feeling anxious leading up to it or during, which was a concern of mine. Anyway, we walked to a pub called Dandelion a few blocks away from her apartment in rittenhouse. I loved the atmosphere of the place it was so cozy, so packed, and really reminded me of pubs in Ireland. I love that Lindsay is at a point in her life where she’s just so free in terms of like, interacting with guys. Like when were signing the check at the pub, she put her phone number down on the receipt of our cute waiter! Like that is bold! I’d wuss out of doing that. I definitely want to keep going out with her because she’s single like me and just down to have a good time. And I really need that right now. We were joking our goal of the night was for each of us to make out with a guy that night (it didn’t happen, but the night was still great) Then after the pub, we stopped by her apartment to put my leftovers in the fridge. We were sitting and talking on her couch, and I was getting all comfy thinking I’d be ready for bed and even mentioned possibly just taking the patco back home, and Lindsay was like “it’s not even midnight yet. c’mon kait you said we had to find guys that we were gonna make out with. lets go to this bar right down the block for a drink” and I was like welllll I kinda wanna sleep and she didn’t take no for an answer she replied with something along the lines of “cmon lets just go to this bar and we could order water and go home after that” And I couldn’t say no to that! I grabbed my coat and off we went. When we first got to the bar, it was kind of empty. We grabbed a seat at the bar and got chatting with these two super attractive bartenders (we later figure out the one is engaged--sigh--but he was really cool to talk with regardless) We ended up staying there until 3 in the morning hahaha. When we got back to her apartment, we munched on my cold leftover fries and fell asleep in her bed. It was SUCH a good night. She’s such a good balance for me. Lindsay has always been the bossy type and in this situation, it was beneficial! I’m glad she pushed me to get my coat on.

Another major thing: I BOUGHT A CAR TODAY!!! Actually, funny story leading up to that, I woke up at 7:30 this morning (that’s right, I only slept for like, 3 1/2 hours) to make sure everything was lined up so I could get my car today. It was before nine when I got on the Patco. 15th/16th station wasn’t all that busy so I didn’t really think much that when I went underground and got onto the train (which I watched come in, btw) it was empty. The train doors close and the lights turn off. I’m like “hm okay, they’ll come back on in a second, I know sometimes they flicker” well, THEY DIDN’T. And then I noticed it didn’t stop at 12/13th st, or 9th/10th, the train would just blow through them. By 8th and market stop I came to the full realization that I’m on an empty, out of service train! I was underground and had no phone service. My next though was, well WHO am I going to call?? Would I just end up going all the way to lindenwold to the service station and have to bang on the heavy metal train doors until someone saw me?? To be fair, I stayed REALLY calm through this. I realized how comical it was from the getco. So because I stayed calmed, I was able to think about finding a number to called based on remembering there was a sing on train I read every time I take it which says something along the lines of “if you see suspicious behavio , call this number” And it turned out being helpful! The patco police number was on that sig! Once the bridge was crossing over the river, I was able to get service again, and I knew once I’d get back on the jersey side my service would drop for the first few stops since they’re also under ground. So as soon as I saw that 4G icon pop up on my phone, I called the patco police and was like “um hi hello I’m a passenger on a train and I don’t think they know I’m on it because the lights are out and they haven’t stopped at any of the stops yet” hahah sucha funny phone call to make. And they were like, well what train are you on/which direction/what stop do you need to get off on/we’ll contact them/we’ll call you back (in gist) Welp, turns out, it was an express train that was running today for the women’s march that was goin exclusively to and from 15th street stop to collingswood. WHOOPS. Hahaha. Makes for a great story and I got plenty of laughs out of it today. And I managed to make other people laugh while telling it. It was a fun mini adventure to have while mildly hungover.

I’m going have to finish talking about my day today tomorrow. I have work in the morning and it’s almost 10:30. I NEED SLEEEEEP so tired. Especially from today. So exhausting! I did so much running around. As soon as I got off the patco, I was calling the car dealership about faxing stuff over to my credit union in order to secure the loan. The loan office was only open til 1 today so I had a time crunch. By the time the dealership sent over the proof of purcahse papers to the credit union, it was 11. And I called twice in the morning and couldn’t reach anyone. So I decided to drive over there myself to hopefully speed up the process of getting that check from the credit union. I get to the office building around 11:45 and the woman was like “well, I may not be able to process it today because there’s another person who I was gonna do the car loan paperwork and I may not be able to do yours before 1 today” blah blah blah. But I was like “welp, I’m just gonna sit here” and sure enough, I got helped on. While waiting for the loan person to get all my paper work ready for me to sign, I had to call the insurance company and open up my own policy. And I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. Honestly this whole process of buying a car, I’ve basically followed my mom’s suggestions (she’s more informed) but I have like barely a fucking clue about the interest rate, car insurance, and loan shit. My brain was FRIED. Not to mention, I was moderately hung over, and hadn’t gone home yet. So it’s like 1 PM by the time I sign my loan paperwork and get the check, and I’m STILL wearing my outfit from last night, with the make up I didn’t wash off my face from the night before, smelling like B.O. So I quickly race home, shower off my hang over, and shove my face with food because I hadn’t eaten at all at that point. Then around 2:30, I headed down to the car dealer with my mom to pick up my car. That shit took almost two or so hours to get done as well. I was so eager just to get the fuck out of there. Doing this whole adult thing is fucking exhausting. I was running around ALL day today for this fucking car purchase. It was damn worth it though because I absolutely love my new car. I love love love it. Every thing about it. I feel so comfortable driving in it. I enjoy being higher up off the ground--I can see so much more. 

Okay so I said I was gonna go to bed but ended up writing all that so now I REALLY need to stop typing and get some sleep because it’s almost 10:45 and I’ve gotta be up sooner than I’d like. It’s kinda funny that everything I wrote is basically from this past week. It goes to show how much goes on on the day-to-day. I still have to talk about that date I had with a guy named Dan and my current feelings about looking for guys. But for now...zzzzzzz