#according to the script he was trying to avoid the conversation

[ebonysolcum]

Why does Worf look like he was put in time out??

Especially when you add this bit:

[randomfoggytiger]

"Proving" Mulder Knew He Was the Father of Scully's Baby

(Had to get this out before the next part of Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma series; so... here we go~!)

Mulder knew he was the father of Scully's baby before Three Words began; and his reticence had everything to do with his PTSD, guilt, and fear and nothing to do with feeling replaced by his partner's child. His ending monologue in Existence further proves this, concluding Mulder's emotional turbulence: "I think what we feared were the possibilities. The truth we both knew."

But how is that to be proven?

Cutting Out Context to Bait the Mystery

According to the script (uploaded here by @x-files-scripts, thank you~), Scully very casually mentions how far along she is separate from her concerns about (and to) Mulder. Mulder doesn't react to this information at all, meaning whatever his reticence and withdrawal were rooted in had nothing to do with feeling replaced as the father of her child.

Throughout their conversation, Mulder tries to keep Scully from digging deeper into his emotions or trauma, deflecting with humor or emotional separation. Scully finally directly addresses his distance; and (though a bit out-of-order from how it aired), the scene below makes two things very obvious:

SCULLY: Mulder --

MULDER: (cutting her off) -- whatever you're going to say, Scully, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be cold. Or ungrateful to you.

SCULLY: I don't know if you can truly understand what it was like.... And now to get you back....

MULDER manages a smile, finally. But only barely.

MULDER: You act like you're surprised.

Scully manages a chuckle, but she's truly worried about him.

SCULLY: I prayed so many nights. And my prayers were answered, Mulder.

MULDER: In more ways than one.

MULDER looks to Scully's stomach. Which she touches.

SCULLY: Yes.

MULDER: I'm so truly happy for you. I know what it means to you --

SCULLY: Mulder --

MULDER: (cuts her off again) -- but I'm having trouble processing any of this. I don't know why I'm here, or where I fit in anymore. I feel strange. Like this can't be happening.

SCULLY nods. Anything she had wanted to tell him will wait.

SCULLY: That's what I've been saying to myself for the last eight months.

What Scully "had wanted to tell him" had nothing to do with her child's paternity nor was that even a concern because she, as mentioned above, says "the last eight months" effortlessly. (An important note: because they kept no show bible, the writers forgot Mulder was missing three months and buried another three; but the intent behind that line is the same even if there isn't or wasn't a numbers problem to quibble over.)

"The last eight months" comes at the tail end of the conversation without a remark or quip from Mulder's perspective, meaning this wasn't news enough for him to comment on or even react to. Scully's statement bookended their discussion, meaning she wasn't drawing it out longer or forcing information down Mulder's throat that he wasn't ready to process. Since that is the case, both knew the problem wasn't her pregnancy (though it was a stressful factor) but was another, bigger concern.

Devil's advocate: Scully was trying to tell Mulder the baby was his-- Gillian Anderson's expressions debunk this theory, but we'll press on-- and the months referred to was how long Mulder was "gone": in which case, Scully being hugely pregnant would have been a huge tip off for her partner regardless; and Mulder, for as much as he is avoiding the obvious this episode, is not stupid.

By cutting up the script-- taking out important context and removing crucial lines-- the audience is left to speculate on information that what was intended to be understated yet obvious (though unconfirmed until the finale episodes.) Chris Carter and Spotnitz have already stated they'd baited Scully's pregnancy as much as they could (one such interview here, credit to @babygirlmulder1018 for the upload~) while always planning for Mulder to be the father. The problem with their method is that they sacrificed necessary clarity for ambiguity, leaving the actors to scramble or fill in the butchered gaps as much as they could with implied body language. Three Words Mulder's affectionate, though fleeting, glances at Scully's belly or Scully's heightening worry for his well-being are debatable clues, all dependent on the viewer's interpretation (even when rewatched with hindsight.) The key to any good mystery is to have all the puzzle pieces in place so that it makes sense when you go back and see them all line up. Cutting out important clues early just to bait the mystery is foolhardy, especially when those gaps are never filled-in with any answers; and The X-Files show, while built around unsolved or unresolved mysteries, always provided a likely explanation (even if that explanation was later revealed to not be entirely true.) It's a shame that this premediated action thoughtlessly skewed the reading of the scene so badly that it took away from its original intent-- Scully's worries over her partner as he becomes more and more lost in his trauma-- and turned it widely into a "bet he's jealous or feels left behind because Scully moved on without him" interpretation, muddying it for viewers over the decades to come.

It's not the first time a script has been stripped of its original intent to fit the vision of the showrunners (often to the frustration to the various writers, actors, directors, etc.); but there is a marked difference between the tampering done to, for example, David Duchovny's personal ideas and scripts in keeping with the mythos of the show (Cinefantastique: David Duchovny on "The Unnatural" and "Hollywood A.D.") and specifically removing an important piece of dialogue to intentionally blur a scene for "the mystery" without that action serving any goal other than obfuscation... and, ultimately, confusion.

Mulder Himself Proves He Knew

According to the script, Scully's concerns started in her partner's hospital room when Mulder's non-reaction snags her notice twice in a row:

"His reaction is so underwhelming that Scully has to laugh" and

"The doctor has to chuckle, looking to Scully. But Scully isn't humored now. She reads something in Mulder past the humor. And Mulder catches her sensing it. That he is deeply troubled."

"Mulder catches her sensing it" is a crucial piece of information, smoothly setting up the scene at his apartment-- Mulder doesn't ice Scully out (always responding to her pleas with mustered up but equal sympathy and sorrow) but he avoids her eyes as much as possible, not wanting to be read, to be "exposed." THAT is what concerns Scully-- never before in their partnership has he evaded eye contact, likely seeking it more often than any other person on the planet. But Mulder (also likely more than anyone) knows that eyes are the window to the soul; and he doesn't want his bared yet.

The tricky part of the ensuing scenes is not to mistake his avoidance of Scully's detection with his avoidance of the baby. Mulder is avoiding everything equally-- but he will still spare a moment for his partner or his baby here and there before snatching away his focus again, dodging any opportunity that might lead to vulnerability.

At his apartment, Mulder turns aside whenever he can or spreads a plaster-fake grin on his face when in conversation;

but it melts into sincerity after he finally acknowledges the baby in the room. It's not quite happiness, but it is a form of contentment and a little pride (similar to his look on the couch in Empedocles.)

When Scully wants to commit anarchy over Kersh's tyrannical terms, Mulder squashes that impulse flat, sparing a strained but still sincere smile as he directs her attention to the pragmatic fact of her baby.

(It's not until "Agent Who?" comes across Mulder's radar that he starts to stiffen against Scully's reticence. Again, not about the baby.)

The last significant mention of Scully's pregnancy is in her kitchen at her apartment. TLG drop in to do their research... and to refocus Mulder on his impending miracle ("a certain blessed event") and away from his crazy mission. Mulder's amused at first with their commentary (as is Scully), giving an exaggeratedly suspicious, comedic squint (which Scully follows up with a witty repartee on his investigative methods)--

until he figures out his partner's ulterior machinations. (The tensions that trail them both the rest of the episode are because of Scully's interferences and not-- again-- because of the baby.)

Those are the only direct references to the baby in Three Words, although Scully does tag along on his madcap mission with TLG); and Empedocles starts out in the spirit of the kitchen scene above-- Mulder squinting about the pizza man, ribbing Scully lightly, and enjoying getting ribbed in return-- but with the added bonus of some unfiltered, heartfelt moments of a man fully embracing fatherhood.

So why, if the original intent of the struggle of Three Words wasn't about the paternity question, does Mulder still struggle with doubts the rest of the series. Well... what were his paternity doubts?

Paternity Doubts

Mulder knew (logically) that his partner wouldn't run into the arms of another man or through the doors of the nearest IVF clinic just because he was chucked six feet under; but that reassurance gave him nothing to stand firmly on since both of their lives revolved around clones, aliens, and even a little girl that was born (and died) to serve an agenda.

Scully had been used over and over against her consent and was ultimately stripped of her fertility; and even though Mulder once said "never give up on a miracle", the IVF had failed, and there had been months of regular extracurricular activities since without even a thought of a baby on either of their radars. But somehow, the minute he vanishes off the planet, she finds out she's pregnant? The exact same somehow he was abducted and somehow returned and somehow resurrected? It doesn't add up; and Mulder's motto has always been "I want to believe."

"I have the same doubts you do, Scully," he said in the Pilot; and those doubts haunt him in Three Words; and (although they are temporarily set aside during the off-screen conversation Mulder has with his partner before Empedocles) they remain, along with his fears, buried under the surface-- as demonstrated by his opening monologue in Essence: "Is it the product of a union? Or... an answer to prayer-- a true miracle? Or is it a wonder of technology, the intervention of other hands? What do I tell this child about to be born? What do I tell Scully? What do I tell myself?"

Furthermore, the events of Essence and Existence make a bit (only a bit) more sense if those events-- Zeus Genetics, Billy Miles, Lizzie Gill, Krycek, the Super soldiers, and other such nonsense-- are put through another lens: trauma.

The Other, Bigger Concern

If Mulder knew the baby was his, why did he distance himself?

Simply put, PTSD.

Three Words very specifically chooses Mulder's flashbacks as his first scene (post here), providing motive to any future decision he makes. Being torn apart for three months and buried another three before being resurrected on a chance is a lot to grapple with; add in a pregnant partner who is clearly expecting a miraculous baby amidst a set of tragically unmiraculous events and looking to her recently resurrected partner for not only their old relationship but more and you get a PTSD-riddled, paranoid, and very panicked Fox Mulder.

Empedocles begins after the aforementioned off-screen conversation; and quite plainly establishes Mulder in his new paternal role, bringing Scully (and the baby) gifts like he has any other significant moment in their relationship (and also because it's no longer acceptable to bring triumphant caveman hunting trophies back to the domestic den.) This episode not only goes out of its way to give him a first-time "feeling his baby move" scene, but further cements Mulder's role by showing him standing sentry outside of Scully's door, doting on her hand and foot back at her apartment, and including their baby nonverbally in Scully's gratitude speech. These benchmark moments are then followed up by him briefly forgetting his baby in Vienen, not wanting to leave its side in Alone, and cycling back to his paternity worries in Essence-- further proof that his initial distance and on-again-off-again dance is rooted firmly in trauma rearing its ugly head to continually mess up his temporary peace.

That trauma follows him (mostly unacknowledged) the rest of Season 8, coming to a head (and exploding) during the events of Essence and Existence. When his security in Scully's science and himself are completely eroded, Mulder is left blindly grappling for any explanation from any nearest and newest source currently in front of him (handing off Scully to his sworn enemy should have been the tip-off point to both she and Skinner, prompting them to put a stop to his spiraling before doing anything else... but I digress.) His hot-and-cold attitude is back (referring to their child as "your baby") even though his fiercely protective love and interest hasn't faded one bit ("will do anything to protect it.")

Deep down, Mulder always knew (or at least hoped) the baby was his-- "the truth we both know," after all.

So, What Does This Mean?

Probably nothing in the grand scheme of things, but a rippling domino effect in the minutiae. It explains Mulder's distant-then-doting attitude, the manifestation of his PTSD and impending parenthood, and even why he was happy to have Scully firmly glued by his side throughout Three Words (even if he couldn't meet her eyes at times.) Scully's pregnancy was a change for both: almost overnight she needed more from their relationship. However, once she realized how displaced and harried Mulder was, Scully relaxed the pace for both of them (off-screen...), allowing Mulder to finally recover, regroup, and continue on. Once that understanding was reached (again: off-screen), Mulder started to take his journey more gently (upsetting and resettling himself whenever Scully's health scares or his impulsive actions blasted him up, down, and sideways) while Scully refigured how to fit their new normal into the life she built in his absence. Like always, teamwork and their unspoken; and, overall, it makes Season 8's there-and-gone-again MSR bits that much more in-character and enjoyable.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

[manikas-whims]

Things we can still get in a possible SoC Spin-off

now that i'm done ranting about the things that annoyed me, lets talk about this.

1: Some light on Inej's backstory, the abuse and exploitation she suffered, her own struggles with touch, her vulnerable side, her fun side especially when she's around Jesper and Nina, her fears and how she rises above them. According to this article by tvguide, showrunner Eric Heisserer states that a script has already been written about her incorporation back into the Dregs. Let's just hope they stop reducing Inej's personality to a mere “knife wife” and “girlboss” , and address her actual depth.

2: Tante Heleen's return! Since we never actually see her body onscreen and her death is merely mentioned twice and shrugged off, I'm hoping she's alive and that the production team is keeping her for the spin-off. She's an integral part of Inej's character arc.

3: The Dregs. I wanna see Rotty, Specht, Anika, Pim, Per Haskell, Big Bolliger and the rest of the bunch. Also Dime Lions, Razorgulls, The Liddies, and other prominent gangs. And a shot of the entire Merchant Council would be nice.

4: Since Inej will return and Matthias is still in Hellgate, we'll get the entire Hellgate breakout and Ice Court Heist. (I'm assuming during Matthias's breakout, Pekka Rollins will also manage to escape from Hellgate 🤔) So we can still have the entire book 1 ending at Vellgeluk where Wylan's face has been tailored and Inej gets captured by Van Eck.

5: Crooked Kingdom plotline till they rescue Inej— Kaz throwing off a rapist from the lighthouse after gaining intel, Kaz threatening a little girl, Jesper and Wylan going to receive Colm Fahey and the whole “people pointing guns at each other is basically a handshake” 😂, Nina's struggles with Parem and Matthias trying his best to be there for her, the iconic Kanej reunion at Goedmedbridge,..

I'm not sure how they'll proceed after retrieving Inej, because alot has already been adapted in this season of SaB. But we'll still have the showdown against Van Eck. Not sure what they'll replace the plague thing with but we'll see..

6: Wylan's backstory! Aside from Inej, we also have Wylan's heart wrenching backstory and we'll witness it all. His early life, the moment he lost his mother and his world became gray, his escape from the men who try to kill him, his realization that they were sent by his own father, his struggles with it all, his conflict with being a good person and working with criminals, his reunion with his very alive mother and Jesper being there for him, and so much more..

7: Kuwei! I'm a big fan of this sassy boy. He absolutely hates having to be with Crows and he chooses not to use their language simply so he can avoid conversations with them 😭 We'll see him cause conflict in Wesper's relationship but also slowly accepting and being thankful of the Crows. And I really hope, the show adds a sort of camaraderie between him and Wylan too. But despite it all, I still wanna see Wylan threaten to drown him 😆

8: The Bathroom Scene ♡ If we take into consideration the wound cleaning moment in season 2 of SaB, its a lot different from the bathroom scene. For starters, they're on Black Veil and not an actual bathroom, and Kaz didn't actually tie any bandages for her. Most importantly, the neck kiss didn't happen. So bathroom scene can still happen and it can serve as a beautiful callback and a parallel to this scene in season 2.

9: Kaz can still find Inej's parents, meet them and well, gift her a ship. Wylan and Jesper can still have their happily ever after, living at the Van Eck Mansion.

10: Since they've made so many changes to the source, can they fucking not kill off Matthias and let him and Nina have their happily ever after too? Like they can act as delegates for Ravka and Fjerda 🤔 Or they can help Hanne claim the Fjerdan throne 🤔 Anything aside from killing him off please.

if you guys have something to add or correct me on, please do so in replies/reblogs ☺

[apatheticlexicographer]

(warning for Long Post because I have no self control and really need to go to bed)

So @will80sbyers has been posting interesting tidbits from the s3 scripts (i shamelessly stole these ss from u i’m so sorry no i’m not) and I’ve never actually read through them before and???

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS

YOU’RE TELLING ME THE SCENE WHERE MIKE DOESN’T RECIPROCATE HIS GIRLFRIEND’S KISS OR CONFESSION. THE SCENE WHERE MIKE IS PHYSICALLY FRAMED IN THE SHOT AS INSIDE OF A FUCKING CLOSET. IS WRITTEN FROM HIS POV??? AND THAT THEY FIND IT NECESSARY TO TRANSCRIBE HIS THOUGHTS, VERBATIM, AS “WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME”????!?!?

my brother in christ that boy is a homosexual

Also, since this scene is clearly from his perspective, that means the “getting awkward” and “so awkward” descriptors are representative of his feelings. This is the last conversation he has with his girlfriend he supposedly loves before she moves an incredibly long way away and how does he feel about it??? Sad??? Heartbroken, even??? Does he desperately cling to her to make the moment last longer??? No, he just feels fucking awkward.

And when she goes in to kiss him, he “seems confused”. Firstly, according to his S4 confession he was fully aware of how he felt about her, and was scared about how much harder losing her would be if he acknowledged it. He’s about to lose her here, at least in the sense of physical distance. Surely this is when he should be scared, then, not confused??? What is he even confused about??? Not his supposed love for her. The fact that she loves him back??? The fact that she’s willing to take him back after he’s been such a dick to her all season??? If either of those are the case, surely his immediate reaction would be relief, and to kiss her back after a second, not confusion so overwhelming that he stands there in a blank stupor after she leaves the room. 

Secondly, he “seems” confused. That’s probably the only line out of the whole confession that doesn’t seem to be coming directly from Mike’s head, but rather from an outsider perspective. Does that mean it’s an incorrect interpretation??? The only possible pro-M!leven angle I could see that from would be if they were trying to obscure his fear of losing her for some reason, to make it a more dramatic “reveal” in S4, but that’s so incredibly cheap and stupid and from what I’ve seen they don’t make their twists intentionally impossible to spot for quick shock value. Stranger Things has actually been very good about setting up foreshadowing of somewhat-hidden character arcs (see: William Byers lmao).

The “say it”, as well. Presumably, it’s referring to an “I love you.” It’s fun to think about the possibility of “it” being something else, like a breakup *coughs*, but I don’t think that’s what’s intended. That means that we can pinpoint this scene right here as the beginning of Mike’s “actively avoiding saying he loves El” streak. He thinks about it, tells himself to say it, but it’s not clear what it is that’s blocking him. He’s angry at himself for not saying it, and disbelieving, and the script makes sure to write those words down on the page, but there’s nothing about that alleged fear.

Also very interesting that it just says “they kiss”. No indication of the fact that it’s actually just her kissing him, or the fact that he doesn’t even close his eyes. I’m assuming that body language is a extension of his confusion??? The script makes the kiss seem mutual, but in the show itself he barely even registers that she’s kissing him. That’s an incredibly extreme expression of confusion IMO. Perhaps his seeming confusion isn’t a lie, but it’s not the whole truth of what he’s feeling. 

Maybe he is scared, but not about losing her.

“What the hell just happened here,” Mike??? You realized you’re fucking gay.

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

The Time Traveling Cabinet

So! Time travel AUs are fun. But what if, instead of sending back Tommy and Wilbur, we try something new for a change?

Concept: Time Travel AU, but the people getting sent back in time are the New L’Manberg Butcher Army.

Ranboo, Fundy, Quackity, and Tubbo are all scattered into the past on December 16th, and it only gets More from there.

Beginning

- Somehow, the New L’Manberg cabinet are all sent into the past at different points of the events of December 16th.

- Ranboo is sent back during the fight in front of Technoblade’s house.

- Fundy is sent back once Punz starts attacking the execution.

- Quackity is sent back a millisecond before Techno’s pickaxe hits his face.

- And Tubbo is sent back right after seeing the pillar and thinking that Tommy is dead.

Ranboo

- Ranboo gets sent back to about a week before Tommy joined.

- He is, understandably, confused.  But he mostly just vibes, leaving cryptic messages, building stuff, and exploring. It's nice to get a break from executions and warring and the messy life in the present day.

- He befriends Tommy again, and they burn down George's house again. This time, Dream barely cares. He doesn't need a reason to hurt Tommy yet.  

- Ranboo also gets to meet his best friend and future husband again!

- Tubbo's a lot less guarded, more willing to speak his mind, doesn't have firework scars on his face and arms. Tommy's still a gremlin, but he's a gremlin with dreams and schemes.  Ranboo doesn't know what to think about this.

- He doesn't get involved in the L'Manberg Revolution or any of the big conflicts, saying something about "preserving the timeline".

- He can’t change anything important anyway. According to the message anonymously whispered to him in chat every time he was stopped from changing something, multiverse creation is disabled until the arrival of all parties.

- Ranboo doesn't feel that bad about it. He isn't in the mood to create paradoxes, and there's nothing during the revolutionary time that he'd really change.

- Except.

- Didn’t Eret do some kind of betrayal thing?

- Ranboo can't recall what they did. Probably just switched sides, and people got mad about it, as people attached to sides often do.

- Then, on August 2nd, he hears explosions.  Against his better judgment, Ranboo sneaks over to L'Manberg to see if Tubbo and Tommy are okay.

- They aren’t.

- Yep, the country has been blown up, and to make things worse Eret leads the L'Manbergians into a death trap that takes more canon lives than anything else in SMP history.  Ranboo's legitimately horrified.

- He sticks around for the peace era and helps rebuild, maybe works at the embassy a little. Mr. Boo is not allowed to be a L'Manberg citizen due to being American, but he remains on good terms with the country.

- Basically, Ranboo learns the true history of this "just a drug van" country, and what it actually stands for.

- He's ready to wait it out until December, so he can get back to the present day with no complications.  One problem: He isn't alone anymore.

Fundy

- Fundy arrives to the Pet War confused as can be.

- He's pretty sure he's dreaming. That's the only explanation for him being in one of the worst times of his life again and Ranboo being there too for some reason.

- So, he tries to stop some of the pet murder, to varying success. He can't kill Sapnap during the duel or save Fungi, but he can save some of the chickens and Leonard the enderman and such.

- Leonard is his emotional support monster. He’s going to need one.

- Next, Fundy finds and yells at a bewildered Wilbur.

- Wilbur isn't allowed to hear the whole rant, but he does get 1) He screwed up as a father, 2) He's probably dead?? This does not help his paranoia and self-loathing.

- Fundy also gets to chat with his younger self, who according to one Ghostbur Soot was 14 at the time of the election? I don’t know, fox/phoenix/trickster demigod aging is weird.

- The conversation goes along the lines of:

“Do they ever start taking us seriously?”

“...Yes. Definitely. Sure.”

- Finally, Fundy tells a heap of lies about what he's like in the future to look cool.

- He’s generally is a fan of this situation because time traveling from the future means one thing: Attention. And it has been a while since he's gotten any of that.

- (Ranboo tries to stop him from messing with the past. He's only sometimes successful, and gets roped into Coconut 2020)

- In summary, Fundy clings to his moment in the spotlight, tries and fails to get closure with his dad, and gets to observe the unraveling ball of angst and issues that was his teenage self.

Quackity

- Quackity is sent back to the day of the election.

- He has to see his naive younger self screw up history and plan a spring wedding with Schlatt. It's awful.

- After trying and failing to assassinate the drunken dictator during his speech, and getting the memo about not being able to change the past in big ways, Q runs over to spawn to wait for Wilbur.

- Wilbur shows up after dying to Punz, and Quackity helps him get to Pogtopia for the first time. 

- There, Quackity chats with him and Tommy. He explains as much as he knows (which isn't much), and offers to join the rebellion.

- Wilbur doesn't trust him for five seconds. Honestly, Q's still wearing the Butcher Army uniform. He’s covered in blood!

- So, Quackity is sent out into the night in an offhand "don't call us, we'll call you" way. On the way out, he tries and fails to murder Technoblade. He's got a hit list, and he's going to complete it.

- Meanwhile, Past Quackity does not get along with Future Quackity at all.

- Past Quackity was a neutral good idealist. Future Quackity is a machiavellian, chaotic neutral guy with a murder list. They despise each other.

-Quackity tries to settle things with Schlatt. Not sure how well it works, but he does try.

- He also maps out complex strategies for how to change the future once all members have arrived. He's got Plans.

- Ranboo is very opposed to these Plans. Fundy is mostly onboard with these plans.

-Finally, Quackity desperately hopes that the last member of the party will arrive before the festival. Maybe, just maybe, he can do something to stop the execution.

-Unfortunately, the festival arrives, and Past Tubbo gives his speech, and Technoblade is given the order.

-The execution goes according to plan.

-Then, in the wreckage of the Red Festival, a figure appears.

Tubbo

- Tubbo has been having an awful day.

- First, he fails to execute Technoblade. Then, he finds out that he killed his best friend Tommy is gone. And now he’s standing smack-dab in the middle of the worst thing that ever happened to him?

- It’s all way too much. Tubbo runs away.

- Tubbo disappears for a solid week before finally accepting that he isn't just imagining all of this as a weird stage of grief.

- He then returns to Pogtopia in a suitably dramatic moment.

- Despite the fact that they're all in the past, Tubbo's probably going to end up as the character who gets the most focus. He's having the most Emotions about all of this.

- He's got to deal with his coping mechanisms (Ignore and Avoid) being taken away because he's back in the place he tries to forget.

- On top of that, he has to deal with the fact that he feels guilty about Tommy's death, but can't even process that because Tommy's technically still alive in the past (and in the future, but Tubbo doesn't know that).

- And he has to deal with seeing Wilbur again, and figuring out why Wilbur made him president.

-He’s going to go through a lot.

Character Motives

- Ranboo: Preserving the timeline so they can get home vs. Wanting to keep his friends safe and caring about L'Manberg now.

- Fundy: Fixing things for his past self, and getting closure with his dad.

- Quackity: Completing his hit list and completely changing the timeline. And punching Schlatt in the face.

- Tubbo: Dealing with the various emotional turmoils listed above, getting Tommy and his past self to run away from it all.

- Past Tommy: Finding out what the actual fuck is going on, and protecting the Tubbos (Tubbi?). Also, he wants to know what happened to upset Future Tubbo so much. (His regular Pogtopia motives are also there).

- Past Fundy: Measuring up to how great his future self said their life was.

- Past Quackity: Not becoming his future self at any cost.

- Past Tubbo: Regular Pogtopia motivations, but now he has both Tommy and Ranboo to worry about.

- Past Wilbur: Wilbur already believed that he had a scripted role, and was always going to end up the villain. Well, now he has confirmation of just that. Awesome!

He actually goes through with it. He actually blows it up. He doesn't know if he's proud, disgusted, terrified, or what, but he knows that it's not up to him to go against fate.

And if fate demands a grand finale and a little trinitrotoluene on the side? He can do that.

[kimistorm]

My Heart Gone Missing [Chapter 5]

Fandom: Studio Ghibli (Howl’s Moving Castle)

Pairing: Friendship! Howl x GN! Reader

Warnings: Marius is unsupportive and angsty as usual~

Masterlist

“Y/N! You’re insane, you know that?” Marius asked as you put a baseball cap on and turned the dial to the town.

“Your point?” you asked as you turned to the ceramic basin.

“Why would a wizard give you one of his spells?”

“Well, you never know until you try, right?” you asked happily as you opened the door. “Any last words before I leave?”

“You’re-”

“Nope, bye Marius!” you called before you darted out the door.

“Y/N! Stop cutting me off!” Marius yelled moments before the door slammed shut behind you.

You began the walk through town towards the shop that you saw the other day. “Okay, just be polite, ask if they have the spell, if not, run.” You mumbled to yourself as you walked through the crowds of people. You looked down at your feet to avoid eye contact with other people, and when you slowed down, you looked up to see the shop of ‘The Great Wizard Jenkins’. “Okay, let’s do this.” You took a deep breath and then knocked on the door. Moments later the door opened to the same stunted man, er kid, from the other day.

“Hello, how can I help you?”

“You don’t happen to have a spell, do you?” you asked sweetly. After thinking about your sentence you sighed at your vagueness.

“You were that person who ran away the other day, right?” the kid asked gruffly.

“No! You must be confused with someone else.” You said quickly as your hand moved to your (h/c) locks of hair. You gave a small scratch before your hand flew back down at your side. “You don’t happen to have a spell that’ll, uh, I don’t know, hypothetically be able to turn you into, well, an animal, preferably a bird, you know, like, uh, hypothetically speaking of course.” You said quietly while not looking at the kid.

“Are you a witch/wizard?” the kid asked.

“What? No! What makes you think that?” you asked in a panicked fashion. Your hair was slowly turning into a (different hair color) starting from when you scratched it. Magic.

“Only a witch/wizard would want to look for a spell like that.” The kid answered.

“Well, you know, it’s all hypothetical and such. I don’t want it for myself, I’m just looking for a gift, for, uh, for a friend. Yeah! Because I totally have friends, why wouldn’t I have friends?” you silently cursed at yourself for your awkwardness and the conversation that you were having.

“No. We don’t give out spells like that. It’s too dangerous. Especially for that friend of yours, who doesn’t know what they’re doing, unless they are a witch or wizard.” The kid said smoothly.

Darn, he saw right through it, “okay, yeah, thank you. I’m sorry for wasting your time, again. I mean! Not again, we definitely haven’t met before. Okay, I’ll leave. Sorry for bothering you!” you yelled the last part out as you ran away from the shop. Again.

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are!” the kid yelled after you.

“Good to know old man!” you yelled in return.

“Children.” You heard the kid grumble behind you.

“I wouldn’t say that!” you yelled at him, “you’re not older than me!” you laughed when you saw the stunned look on the kids face before sprinting away. You may like to get a rise out of people, but you don’t like the consequences, and there was no way you were going to test out this kids’ consequences.

You quickly weaved your way through the crowd of pedestrians as you ran back towards the little building that housed the portal to your house. As you ran past people you decided that you were going to break in.

Now, to any normal person, breaking into a wizard’s house was insane, but, that was exactly what you excelled at. At least, according to Marius.

You successfully made it to your door without being pursued by an angry wizard, or an angry pedestrian. You casually leaned against the unassuming door and slipped in. “Marius!” you called out.

“Oh, you’re back already. Did it work?” Marius asked in a bored fashion from his bowl.

“Does it look like it worked?” you asked as you threw your baseball cap onto a desk that was steadily getting more cluttered with every passing day.

Marius looked up at you from his bowl in the corner, “I’d say you participated in a marathon because for some reason you thought that running in a marathon was a better idea than asking for a spell.”

“Huh, not too far off.” You mused, “anyways. I didn’t get the spell.”

“No surprise there.” Marius scoffed.

“But, I did get this wonderful idea.” You continued.

“A wonderful idea?” Marius looked at you disbelievingly, “why do I get the nagging suspicion that your ‘wonderful idea’ is actually a horrible idea that’ll probably get everyone killed.”

“It’s not going to get everyone killed.” You retorted, “I’m ashamed that you think that of me! I’m just going to break into the house and get the spell for myself.”

“That is the worst idea I’ve heard in centuries.” Marius said immediately, “and I was best friends with a minnow for like half of that time.”

You ignored what Marius had said and set to work on creating a foolproof plan. You got out some paper and wrote out a rough outline of what you were going to do. It started with an invisibility spell, you’d follow another person into the shop and just camp out by the door until they all left. Once everyone was gone, you’d search for the spell.

You smiled to yourself, this plan could either fail or be amazing. Marius leaned towards the crash and burn end of the spectrum, but you liked the idea of this plan. It seemed foolproof.

“Y/N, are you seriously writing up a plan?” Marius asked from his corner. You simply ignored him, you didn’t need any of his negativity. “Just don’t crash and burn alright.” Marius sighed, “there’s no way I’ll be able to roll my way to the lake if this house falls apart.”

“Glad to know you care about me.” You said as you leafed through your books on spells.

Marius scoffed, “no. I don’t care about you, I just care about my well being.”

“Same thing.” You waved as you pulled out a large book from the shelf. You shoved some papers off of the table and dropped the heavy book onto the table. It was leather bound and the cover was worn and faded from time. If you looked hard enough, you could barely make out an elaborate insignia and some words in an ancient language.

“At the rate you're going you’re going to end up living in a pigsty!” Marius insulted.

You ignored him and flipped through the gold edged pages. The script was small and swirly, and if the yellowing pages had any indication, it was a rather old book.

“Y/N! Stop ignoring me! You’re being such a bore.” Marius whined.

“You try decoding the words of several centuries old writing.” You snapped back as you leaned down to try and read what the script said.

“Why on earth do you have a centuries old book?” Marius demanded.

“What? You think I’m the first witch/wizard in the family?”

“Why are you living on your own then!” Marius yelled in a fury.

You shrugged, “adventure. Independence. Human things.”

There was the sound of indignant splashing and Marius fell silent.

“You didn’t drown yourself over there, did you?” you asked after a few minutes of silence, except for the flipping of pages.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Marius laughed dryly. “What are you even looking for?”

“Invisibility spell.” You replied.

“Great, you’re going to be invisible. Let me guess, you’re going to sneak into Jenkin’s store and steal the spell.” You fell silent and didn’t answer Marius’ sarcastic comment. “Oh my gosh.” Marius cackled in disbelief, “you actually are! Wow, I think we know who won the award for dumbest plan.”

“Be quiet.” You grumbled to him.

“Honestly. I think you have a deathwish.” Marius continued to talk as if he hadn’t heard your quiet threat.

“Nobody asked for your opinion.” You snapped back.

“Ooh, looks like I hit a soft spot.” Marius cackled gleefully, “so, tell me, was it because I figured out what you were going to do?”

“Don’t make me throw this rock at you.” You turned to his corner and held up a rock that you had picked up for exactly this reason.

“You’d miss.” Marius said in reply, but you did hear some apprehension in his voice.

“Shall we test it and see?” you threatened.

“No! I’m good. You can keep your rock. I’ll be quiet!” Marius said hastily.

“You better be quiet.” You muttered darkly and turned back to your book.

You didn’t know how long you spent poring over the small print of the book, but when your back and neck started to scream from pain you decided to stand back up to stretch out your back. You stood up to your full height and raised your arms above you in a long stretch. You rubbed the back of your neck to try and get some knots out of it.

“Did you find it?” Marius’ sullen voice echoed in his bowl.

“No.” You sighed and pulled up a chair next to the book so you could continue flipping through the book. You were only halfway through the book, so you still had some hopes, but it was quickly dwindling.

“Ugh!” you shouted and let your face drop onto the book. You peeled your face away from it a moment later due to the dust that was causing you to sneeze. “This is impossible!” you shouted and stood up from the chair and stormed away.

“Maybe it’s a sign!” Marius eagerly shouted, “you should quit! Leave all the crazy wizard stuff to Howl and the Witch of the Waste!”

“Shut up Marius!” you yelled back and stormed out of the door.

Taglist: @pogpixelz

[djmarinizelablog]

Hi! Are you accepting prompts? If so can you write something about zekehan? Very much appreciated, love your fics 💛 Have a good day.

Here's a short piece inspired by Failing and Flying, a poem by Jack Gilbert:

cw: slight smut/nsfw, poetic language, angst

1.

Hange forgets the tales that Zeke has ever told her, that the sun can also symbolize the end, or that Icarus also flew. She forgets the stories as if the act itself were deliberate, and there is a certain detachment, also a kind of longing, to save whatever can be saved. Here is the man she married, devoid of any compassion nor empathy, but still a man she loves nonetheless. The flame flickers for a bit, but it's not the embers in the fireplace that does it. He makes an attempt of a conversation, a list of books he promises to get for her, and Hange does relent. Zeke snaps when she doesn't say much to avoid another argument. She's seated on the couch in their library, one they've built together throughout the years, and she pretends not to hear him when he says he's getting tired.

Yes, she thinks, I am, too.

2.

Everyone does forget, according to that poem he once read to her, but everytime she sees him, it's hard to tell when love comes to a fade, that some marriages do fail and people say it was a mistake, that everybody said it would have never worked. There's hearsay here and there, the rumors spreading that their separation is imminent. It lurks through their circles, through the interactions with friends and family, in between them. She stops by a florist's shop and gets curious about the meanings of every flower. She brings home a bouquet to put on their table, wild roses, yellow marqueriles, poppies. She will try to arrange it in a nice vase, tilt the flowers a little bit to the side, but Zeke will walk by it, won't even notice, and when she points it out, he will only shrug and get back to work. The air will be stifling.

Hange should have known better.

Hange is old enough to know better.

The language of flowers teaches her that the arrangement means there is pleasure and there is pain, here it is, happening soon, and no one is free.

2.

He holds her tenderly but all that Hange feels is the roughness of his hands, the punctured statements in his voice. He kisses her shoulders down to her chest and her stomach, and it doesn't feel like his movements are deliberate. It's forced, scripted, like this is how he expects it to be. Like this is bound to happen. But anything worth doing is worth doing badly, this she remembers. Every effort that they put in the relationship means something, even if it only matters to push them forward to the end. The next night he undresses her again, holds her face to his hand and draws a long kiss on her lips. She tries, she really tries, but Zeke instructs her as if she weren't his equal, that she was merely an object of his desire, a tool for his pleasure. She tries to enjoy this, nevertheless, so she comes up with different images in her mind: the beach, perhaps. There's the sand, hot on her feet. The sun, too. Blinding. The waters, stretching into infinity.

3.

There is that summer ocean beyond the island where they can watch the horizon while the love was dissipating out of them, the bright stars that glowed above the skies while they knew fully well that the lights would extinguish sooner or later. Zeke wakes up every morning with Hange in his bed, and there's this gentleness in her, a visitation, like the mist of the dawn where figures would come and go.

In the afternoons, he would watch her silence upon her return from a stroll by the ocean, listen to her while she rambles upon her discoveries during lunch. This time it's his turn not to say anything.

How can they say the marriage failed? Hange believes there are things she can only hold on to despite the futility of impermanence. Icarus was not failing as he fell, Zeke has told her---he was just coming to the end of his triumph.

This may or may not have been influenced by @/TundrainAfrica's Lovebug

[multimetaverse]

HSMTMTS 2x08 Review

Most Likely To was the best ep of S2 so far and ended one ship while launching another. Let’s dig in!

Gaston was super fun, a very nice showcase for both Larry and Matt. This is the kind of energy that early S2 was lacking. Also feels like the first ep where East High might actually have a shot at beating North High. Covid restrictions played a role but we really needed to see more rehearsal scenes and scenes of the wildcats just being theatre kids. This also may be one of the last times we see EJ perform as a student in the musical so I’m glad we got this.  

EJ has been criminally underused for most of S2, he’s marketed as part of the big 4 along with Nini, Ricky, and Gina and Matt Cornett’s name is listed 3rd in the credits but in the early eps of S2 you’d think he was guest star. Lately he’s started to become more important and tonight was an excellent showcase of why he’s such an interesting character. I’m not gonna check but this feels like it’s the most EJ screen time in a single ep that we’ve gotten all season long. 

Of course, the main reason for EJ’s increased screen time is because of Portwell. I’ve been neutral on them but tonight they really won me over’ their scenes were so sweet that they warmed even my cold black heart. Matt and Sofia are good friends irl and that shines through in their easy rapport and great chemistry. Gina snorting at EJ’s joke was cute and I loved the shot of Gina accidentally walking into the shot for EJ’s confessional. As an aside, they’ve been doing some fun stuff with the confessionals lately which helps add a bit of the metaness that helped make S1 so great.

The real big Portwell scene tonight was EJ and Gina talking on the couch at Ashlyn’s. Lot’s to love there. Gina’s speech to EJ about what she sees when she thinks of him was sweet and her saying that EJ tried to do the right thing and often failed but kept trying echoes what she said of herself during her confession to Ricky. Also when EJ asked Gina if she understood the feeling of having her life mapped out she replied, ‘’not really’’ which is almost certainly the inspiration for Gina asking a question to EJ and him responding ‘’not really’’ in their pre S2 face time call on the hsmtmts instagram. 

EJ is still wracked with guilt for the guy he used to be but Gina reminds him that he’s grown and is a good guy which leads to her slip up about her seeing him that way vs the rest of the gang hinting that she’s beginning to catch feelings for EJ. Which leads to EJ complimenting her and them having a moment that could well have led to a kiss if Ashlyn hadn’t come home. And they cap it off with Gina falling asleep and EJ covering her with his Duke sweater. 

It’s been nice not seeing Gina upset over Ricky these past two eps and it’s a damning indictment of the poor writing and pacing of S2 that her story in the first 6 eps can be summed up as Gina being upset over something Ricky said or did. Not only has Portwell allowed EJ to rise in prominence but also it’s allowed Gina to escape the rut her character was stuck in pining for Ricky. 

I hope after S2 is over that we get an interview where Tim explains how the Portwell plot came to be. The S1 finale set up some possible interest between them as did the pre S2 face time call but nothing came of it during the first 4 eps, they stood next to each other a lot but barely interacted otherwise. Notably in 2x01, which Tim himself wrote, EJ tries to grow a beard and tells Ashlyn that he says her as so young which is extremely jarring now that we know that EJ is crushing on Gina who is Ashlyn’s age. 

Was Tim not set on doing Portwell until he realized he needed to give Gina something else to do other than hopelessly pine for Ricky? Narratively, it made sense after Rini got together in S1 to put the other two Big 4 characters together in S2 but did Tim not want it to seem so obvious to the audience so he deliberately kept Portwell apart until 2x05 where EJ’s feelings make for a nice plot twist? Was he just reluctant to plug EJ back into the love square due to how much more complicated it would make things but later felt he had no other options? Or was it just plain old bad pacing and writing?

Of course, I wish that there wasn’t such a large age gap between Sofia and Matt but there are no Gina ships that avoid that problem, there’s also an age gap between Sofia and Joshua, just as there was between Olivia and Joshua and Matt in S1. Depending on when they film S3 there’s a good chance that most of it will be finished before Sofia even turns 18 which is deeply unfortunate. There’s a broader issue of teen girls being cast in mostly age appropriate roles while their male love interests are older adults and in particular it often affects female characters of colour. Netflix has a really bad track record with those kind of age gaps but Disney has problems too as we’ve seen on HSMTMTS and on GMW where by the end of S3 they had 18 year old Peyton Meyer as the boyfriend of 14 year old Rowan Blanchard’s character (not to mention canon Joshaya which didn’t have such a bad age gap between the actors but was problematic regarding the ages of the characters themselves).

A knock I’ve seen on Portwell is that EJ is just gonna leave for university next year but that was never gonna happen, Matt’s under the same 4 season contract as all the other mains and he’ll be sticking around in some capacity much like Sharpay ended up doing in the movies. It is true that EJ will probably have to move on at the end of S4 while Gina still has her senior year left but that will also happen with her and Ricky since he’ll be graduating at the end of S4. It was a big mistake to make EJ a senior but it also may end up being a big mistake to make Gina a sophomore. It would have been too messy to retcon EJ to be a junior but Tim probably should have taken the chance to retcon Gina into being a junior in S2.

That Rini breakup was so sad (missed opportunity for gotta go my own way). They managed to get in a Troyella reference with the treehouse. This was inevitable they just have not been communicating well though now that we know that Ricky thought Nini left YAC for him some of his desperation to spend as much time together as possible makes more sense. I think Rini is endgame if the series has 4 seasons but it wouldn't shock me if we never seem them dating again and they only get back together in the series finale. It also wouldn’t surprise me if Nini never dates anyone else for the remainder of the series or at least not seriously. 

We’re not even halfway through the series so it’s way too early to permanently slam the door on Rini though this time apart will probably help Joshua and Olivia move on from their own bitter break up before it bleeds too much into their performances. I do wonder if Tim really has a clue what he's gonna do with them for the remaining 24-28 eps of the series, assuming S3 and S4 have 10-12 eps each. 

Roman Banks killed If I Can’t Love Her and the montage of all the couples or ex couples was great.

It was nice to finally meets some parents other than the Bowen’s and Salazar-Roberts’. Kourtney’s mom was played by Dara’s actual mother and their dynamic was great as expected. It seems from their conversation that Kourtney's father is dead which I don’t believe has been mentioned before. Cash Caswell.... well it gets what the character is about across. He really looks and sounds like a rich Utah republican, I bet he knows Mitt Romney personally. I liked EJ going to tell his father that he’s not going to Duke and recognizing that he wants to build his own life on his own merits. 

We saw a bit of that S1 Miss Jenn energy tonight which was fun though I didn't like how curt she was with Seb nor did I like how rude Carlos was to Seb although we know that blows up in 2x10. 

Jazzara rising! I really liked how Jazzara and Portwell are sort of mirroring each other and since Mazzara knows about EJ’s feelings for Gina it wouldn’t shock me if helping EJ out is part of him showing a softer side in 2x12.

Of course Ashlyn is VP of the Nostradamus society. It's clear her family has some kooky new age beliefs (her parents are probably members of some naturopathic medicine group on Facebook that doubles as a gateway into Qanon)

It was nice to see Big Red being such a good friend to Ricky and the return of Ricky’s infamous pillow hugs. Lmao at Ashlyn just chilling while Big Red is comforting Ricky

Also Miss Jenn saying sexy and Big Red referring to pillow talk, the writers are adding a bit of spice when cooking up these scripts.

Looking Ahead: 

Looks like Gina may be wearing EJ's duke sweater next ep according to some posts I saw. Jack presumably is there to somehow help Gina decide what she wants with Ricky and EJ though him having wanderlust might also feed into Gina’s thoughts on settling down in SLC or moving with her mom around the country.

Let's see what mom of the year, Lynne Bowen, has up her sleeves. Ricky’s bedroom at her place in Chicago looks much nicer than the apartment Mike Bowen has so perhaps she makes a lot more money than he does. 

Not looking forward to the Zoom portions of the ep but I guess it was inevitable. 

There’s only two paths for Gina’s story to go in the remainder of this season; either she decides to move on from Ricky and give EJ a chance or she decides that Ricky is worth trying again and squelches her budding feelings for EJ. The former looks much more likely after tonight’s ep but either way it needs to be handled with care. Inevitably Gina and Ricky need to talk about what happened between them but if Tim really wants Ricky to continue being a viable love interest or even a good friend to Gina then he needs to really have Ricky apologize and show a thoughtful, kinder side of him that’s largely been missing this season. 

What I think Tim is doing is setting up Portwell getting together in 2x12 but Ricky pining over Gina until Portwell break up late S3 and Rina get together in the S3 finale before they break up later in S4 and Ricky gets back with Nini near the end of the series. If I had Tim’s ear I would tell him that he should pick which ship he wants to do, Rina or Portwell, but don’t do both. He wants canon Rina? Great then end Portwell before it starts and have Rina happen in S3 and introduce other obstacles to them getting together rather than having to damage EJ’s character and make him lose another girl he likes to Ricky. He wants canon Portwell? Great then have Gina and Ricky’s conversation be closure for the both of them and have Gina and EJ get together and break them up without Ricky being a cause of it or waiting in the wings to get with Gina soon afterwards. Doing both will be a disaster and I truly hope that Tim Federle carefully thinks over his mistakes in S2 and really plans out the remaining 2 seasons of the series while there’s still time to prevent things from going really off the rails like GMW and AM did thanks to the bad decisions of Michael Jacobs and Terri Minsky. 

Until next week wildcats. 

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Eight

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 5,600

Warnings: Language as always, mentions of drinking, alcohol and drunkenness, mentions of sex OH AND HEARTBREAK

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

The right person, the wrong time.

The right script, the wrong line.

The right poem, the wrong rhyme.

And a piece of you

That was never mine

K Towne Jr.

Chapter 8

The black topped streets of Lewisham radiate the day’s spring sunshine as if intent upon sending the heaven sent warmth back up through Marcus’ soles. The evening’s golden light creates a love song in his heart - one that morphs from the irritation and melancholy of the morning to a happier more uplifting tune.

When did that mood change? Oh yes, that embrace.

Nush.

Marcus hadn’t realised just how low his battery was for touch until you threw your arms around him. How much much he’d needed your body close to his again. Feeling your softness against him, inhaling your intoxicating scent. How he’d longed to kiss your forehead and stroke your hair in that cuddle. Remembering the pain of breaking that contact, plastering on a smile and kicking himself for it.

Constantly having to watch his need for your touch and tempering it within the normal parameters for a working relationship, Marcus has found himself reaching out for you- making excuses to touch you as you passed him, finding imaginary eyelashes on your face. Being around you felt like a breath that he was unable to release, continuously having to dampen down his natural instincts to hold and stroke you.

Kiss you.

Taste you.

Had he been back in the States, he would have said fuck it and asked you out, but that didn’t exactly go well last time. The pain of knowing exactly what he wants and it just being beyond the reach of his fingertips plagues Marcus daily with the dream of coming home to be loved, nurtured and protected and offer it in return. How do you ever allow yourself to become vulnerable to that risk of failure again? One thing he is certain of, is your current ignorance of the true level of his feelings. The kindness you show others - so much care for everyone around you, albeit through a thinly veiled layer of sarcasm and swearing- and the love your friends show for you, demonstrate that you would be nothing but clear if he was to reveal his true feelings.

Squeezing politely through the crowds, between the narrow shack-like stalls of the fairy-light illuminated market, Marcus heads towards the Highline where Andy had told each of you to meet him. Before he could start climbing the staircase up, a large hand grasps his upper arm, another patting the space between his shoulder blades. Marcus spins, slightly surprised by the touch, to be greeted by Andy’s grinning face.

“Looking good, Sir. Bit sharper than at lunch today,” Andy observes, giving Marcus’ leather jacket, Henley and indigo jeans a once over, “and before you complain, I am going to get you a beer because of the day you’ve had. You can do your management thing of buying the first round in a bit, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

With Andy’s face explicitly telling Marcus not to disagree with him, he nods, definitely needing that drink. As they head together towards the bar, they are both absorbed into the throng of a hundred voices holding loud conversations as they compete with the soundtrack from the decks. The crowd is a mixed bag of teenagers, students and families - the children chasing or trying to catch the sparkling spotlights as their parents reminisce over large gin and tonics about lie-ins and late nights not hunched over a crib.

Winding their way through the laughing and dancing bodies, they head in the direction of the alcohol to order some locally brewed ales, bumping into an already buzzing Kiritopa at almost the front of the queue. After a round of handshakes, back slaps and hearty laughs, they edge ever closer to their goal of amber nectar. Before their drinks are poured, Marcus’ eyes scan the market for the rest of the team when they are caught by a flash of colour. Bright turquoise stockings, a mustard corduroy pinafore, red and white striped T-shirt - oh, it isn’t you. Your wildly coloured legs bring so much colour to his day and they are the first thing he checks as he enters the office. Elbow nudges and a pint glass from Andy brings his attention back to the men in front of him for a quick cheers-ing of glasses before heading out of the melée.

The table on the Highline that Andy had reserved was utterly perfect. It afforded a bird’s eye view of the market - a true dream come true for any avid people watchers, whilst also allowing everyone to talk and be heard by each other with its one storey elevation from the thronging crowds. Andy and Kiritopa are animatedly talking with each other lounging amongst the piles of cushions and blankets on the pallet seating, while Marcus leans against the walkway, clutching his beer, staring off into the urban sprawl of concrete car parks and fried chicken restaurants but only looking for one face.

“Hey, what time do you call this...Whoa - Nush, is that makeup? On your face?” Andy’s eyes are utterly saucer-like in this discovery.

“Hush your mouth - she did it to me,” you jab your finger in Dian’s direction, pouting your lips at the indignation and as Andy goes to make another quip, you add- shoving some chips in his mouth, “Dirty masala fries- thought we’d need something to line our tummies this evening. Although equally, they’ll do a wonderful job of keeping some people’s mouths shut!”

“I think I did a great job- she looks stunning!” having put three portions on the table, Dian steps back to admire her handiwork as you pull a duck face pout at her.

She always looks beautiful.

“So, what’s on these fries?” Marcus asks as he desperately tries to avoid the other thoughts running through his head of how that pencil skirt runs along the curve that falls and rises from your waist to your hips beautifully or the horizontal stripes of your t-shirt - an outfit winning in its quest to distract.

As for that goddamn red lipstick…

It would leave a mark all around my-

“Ok, so they’re skinny French fries with spices shaken over them and a dollop of channa masala on top. Oh and that white shit is garlic mayo to dip them in,” you grin broadly as you pass him a portion - the picant vibrancy of the food telling stories of the fresh, bold flavours to come. Always being a believer in food being one of the ways that you can love a person, the mouthful of potatoes, spices and chickpeas envelops Marcus in an all encompassing hug. His belly sings with happiness with each mouthful he consumes, his tongue delightfully tingling from the chilli powder.

“Y’know Nush. Not had one of your curries for a while,” Andy not-so gently hints.

Marcus can’t help but raise his eyebrows, “Nush, you make curries? How many other hidden talents?”

“She also plays the piano and did ballet until she was fifteen,” Andy adds, ducking as you lob a cushion at him - your face reddened with a mixture of embarrassment and rage.

“Badly according to my mother,” you say, rolling your eyes as you shove another mouthful in, “Mine aren’t particularly elegant but they are edible. Well they are now anyway - there was one, a keema matar, that I made as a kid where I didn’t realise that chili develops over time. Put in roughly five tablespoons by the end. Could have been used for chemical warfare. Never lived it down but it got me out of cooking for a while.”

The table explodes in uproarious laughter, earning several odd looks from the patrons nearby.

“Well, I’m considering this an invitation to try one of your edible curries as you so eloquently call them,” Kiritopa rubs his belly in anticipation, chuckling at your modesty, “When can we get a date in the book?”

“I love a good curry, so count me in,” Dian chimes in as she pops the chickpeas like sweets into her mouth.

Marcus watches you shift uncomfortably in the spotlight of demands from your co-workers, “If I do this, I need a bigger space to work in as I can’t fit you all in my flat. I’ll need to borrow somewhere that can fit more bums.”

“Could use my apartment to cook and host, if you like?” Marcus proffers, secretly hopeful at trying some of your dishes and perhaps more than a little excited at the thought of spending some one on one time with you.

“Shall we do Sunday evening, if nothing turns up from work?” Kiritopa asks hopefully.

Marcus shrugs by way of confirmation, catching your gaze, drinking in the swirl of colours in your iris, to give you a nod.

With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, you exclaim, “Andy- what the fuck have you started? You’ve all grossly overestimated my skills, and now I am going in search of alcohol to dull my senses and make poor decisions,” you dramatically announce with a theatrical bow, “What can I get everyone?”

Seeing an opportunity open up, Marcus touches your arm as you go to leave, “It’s my round. Help me carry them?”

“Deal,” Marcus feels his heart grow as he sees your smile reach every corner of your face.

Before reaching the top of the stairs, Marcus moves himself around to walk in front of you. His body on an autopilot of manners. On reaching the bottom step, he reaches back - unthinkingly - to grab your hand so as not to lose you amongst the multitude drinking, eating and dancing the night away. The momentary panic that spread at the thought of you rejecting him recedes as your fingers thread between his.

Sending a warm smile at you over his shoulder, you follow in the wake of him quietly.

The people near the bar are flowing like rivers, never stopping for obstacles but twirling, swirling around them nevertheless Marcus guides you through, never letting go. The noise of the chatter and throb of the music surrounds you, not allowing for much verbal communication so he settles for small movements and gestures with the hand that is holding yours. When you finally arrive at the queue by the bar, that is when you can speak a bit more freely albeit in theatrical whispers in each other’s ears.

Marcus watches how the evening breeze kisses you, blowing the strands of your growing-out fringe into your face. How you gaze around and observe people whilst also managing to make him feel like he’s the only person there. The way your eyes crease into crescents when you laugh or smile and how much he wishes he could thank all those people jostling you into him. But like all moments with you, it ends too quickly as soon you’re both heading upriver against the current with your trays of drinks.

“Nush, I’ve always thought it was some kind of miracle that you never spill alcohol,” Andy teases you as you bring the drinks to their owners.

“Hah! I don’t waste the good stuff,” you mutter indignantly, “Although perhaps if we want to protect the office carpets, I should…”

“No,” Marcus mock-sternly interjects at the thought of you being drunk and the chaos that would bring, “No day drinking at work, Nush. I’d prefer the coffee stains.”

Your pout and subsequent upward glance through your eyelashes, makes Marcus turn towards the railings, hiding his thoughts in his beer.

Fuck, Nush.

If you only knew what you do to me.

“Hey Kiri, isn’t it? You playing in the tourney tomorrow?” a deep, cut glass accent calls out, cutting through the crowds surrounding them. Marcus turns towards where the sound is coming from and as he does, he catches a strange look cross your face.

“What the fuck are you doing here and how the fuck do you know Kiritopa?” The tone of your voice, narrowed eyes and furrowed brow makes Marcus turn back towards the group inquisitively.

“Nush! Haven’t seen you in a long time but you are looking amazing,” the voice is attached to a face, the kind that would stop anyone in their tracks, “can barely recognise you with makeup on- you should wear it more often.”

You breathlessly mutter, “Fuck off, that’s never going to happen.”

Good girl. Don’t put up with that BS. You’re better than that.

“I know Seb through rugby training,” then tilting his head quizzically, Kiritopa asks, “How do you know him?”

“Since school isn’t it, so what? Roughly twenty years? Through her brother, Adam as we played rugger together. Although, despite such a long time friendship, you wouldn’t let me in your knickers until more recently,” Seb shoots you a wink from over his beer.

The words burn through Marcus as he considers your connection with this man - his eyes narrowing, lips thinning. Loneliness echoing through his racing heart. He hadn’t considered you seeing anyone else- even for the briefest of dalliances but then not everyone is a serial long term monogamist.

Of course you’d have needs, you are an adult woman.

I just wish you’d explore them with me.

“Every now and then it’s nice to have an orgasm attached to a pulse that isn’t delivered by a battery,” you deliver, utterly deadpan.

Seb pretends to be mortally wounded by your words, playing dead into the chair next to yours, languidly flopping his limbs around. Oh, how Marcus would like to wipe that stupid smug smirk off his face!

For fuck’s sake, Pike. Why didn’t you sit next to her when you had the chance?

White knuckles wrapped around his nearly empty pint glass, Marcus silently watches as Seb desperately works to get your attention whilst you chat animatedly with Dian and Andy while Kiri downs the rest of his beer. He hasn’t noticed the pretty young woman with bouncing corkscrew curls observing him from amongst her friends on the next table along.

“Hey. You look like you could do with a drink, can I get you one?”

Abruptly removed from his poorly concealed glowering, Marcus raises his eyebrows in surprise at this question, pausing for some time before realising that it was aimed at him.

“Oh, look don’t worry. It was just a silly thought...” the beautifully tight curls go to withdraw from view and return to their friends.

“No, I’m sorry. I was lost in thought,” Marcus offers apologetically, “It’s been a day from hell. Let me get you a drink.”

“Wanted to talk to you as I was a bit concerned that you were about to break that glass with how tightly you were gripping it. Glass is an arse to get out of wounds so thought it better to save your hands before you come visit me in A&E,” she gently proposes, “There are better places to spend Friday nights!”

Welcoming the pretty distraction from his destructive thoughts, Marcus’ cheeks dimple as he nods, “I can imagine. Are you a doctor?”

“Yeah, for my sins,” she amusedly huffs, “And on a rare night out, so shall we go get that drink? I’m Kemi, by the way.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Oh, how you long to rip the makeup from your face! As a child, it had been a form of let’s pretend that turned into a mask to hide behind as a young adult as you experimented with finding your true self. Now, that you are established in your womanhood, you feel no need to add layers to your face other than when you are convinced it would be fun by a fast-becoming firm friend.

When Sebastian made a remark about how pretty you looked with the makeup, it made you want to run to the loo right then and there to claw it from your skin.

And what the ever loving fuck is he doing here? Fucking Sebastian of all fucking people, who you accidentally keep finding yourself fucking. You’d just come around to the idea that it might be ok to occasionally go out with people from work but when they meet people from your everyday life - your home life - that isn’t ok. Especially when that person is just a hate fuck. Great in bed but an odious human being as you can’t be that handsome and a decent person, it seems.

Unless you’re Marcus Fucking Pike.

Who is now grabbing a drink with an absolute goddess of a woman.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint why it had hurt so much when he’d walked off with her but there was such an ache deep in your tummy that could not be ignored. Between that and the appearance of fucking Sebastian, you just want to jump on the 178 home and throw on your jammies, curling up under the shit crocheted throw that you’d made during your leave - more holes than stitches. If it wasn’t for Dian, you would already be on your way there, demolishing something unhealthy from UberEats, glugging a wine or two.

Dian seems to pick up on your drop in mood and decides that it’s time for a trip to the tequila bar. With Andy’s husband now joining your rag-tag gang, you agree to chase some bitter hits of alcohol. As you wind your way among the dancers and drinkers, you see him standing by one of the upturned kegs, laughing at something she has said. You catch his eye, plaster on a smile and send him a wink in the hope that your wish for him to have fun seems genuine.

You sign to him whether he wants a drink but a small shake of his head tells you all you need to know before Dian tugs your hand back in the direction of the bar. Standing in front of the bartender, a moment of sadness washes over you until Kiri passes the salt, Seb licks your hand and the rest of the evening finally takes a softer tone after one, two, three.

The tequila in your tummy makes it hard to concentrate on what Dian and Kiri are chatting about while the three of you curl tipsily upon the comfy cushions as a large fluorescent pink, plastic sign declaring TREAT YO’SELF looms large over your heads. Excusing yourself to the loo, you walk past Marcus - steadfastly refusing any eye contact but ensuring he sees you. As you go to repeat the action on the return journey - not entirely sure as to why you feel the need to seek your boss’s attention - a hand goes to balance you as you walk down the final step.

“Whoa - steady, Nush,” you look up to see Marcus’ concerned face looking down at you.

“Hah! I’m ok. You having a good night?” You ask, your eyes searching his, “She’s truly stunning.”

“Yeah, um, were you guys doing shots?” he enquires, brow still furrowed.

“Yup. It's a really good tequila bar upstairs - should have joined us,” you jab him in the chest with an index finger, “So good that the world just looks like an impressionist painting. All swooshy and a little bit blurry.”

You watch Marcus scratching his neck, “Anyway, what on Earth are you doing here with me? Go get her, idiot.”

“Ah, here you are Bad Idea Puppy- thought you’d fallen asleep on the loo. Although that wouldn’t be the first time would it?” Sebastian brays, stepping between you and Marcus as he grabs your hand to lead you onto the dancefloor. Allowing yourself to be led away, you look back over your shoulder at him, mouthing go get her with a wink as if that would soften the pain that had appeared with her.

The music flows through you - the clearest way to communicate you have ever known- your body rolling and swaying with the sensuality of the music. Sebastian moves effortlessly around you thanks to his mother, who having had only sons, deciding that her youngest would get the dance lessons that she’d hoped the daughter she never had, would take. The two of you vent in movements all of what you could never be said between you or to anyone else aloud. As you twist together under the orange stained hazy night sky, you notice the goddess’ hand on Marcus’ face, stroking his cheek. The poisonous ache returns to your tummy and however your face contorts, causes Seb to pull you closer, cradling your head into his neck. You know how the night will end and the loneliness stings.

✪✪✪✪✪

His mouth bone dry, Marcus awakes fully dressed, on top of the comforter, with a cool bed surrounding him. Reaching for his phone, pulling the charging cable from it, he flicks through messages and emails trying to work out what had happened from when Kemi had left him in the bar to rejoin her friends. Her words still ring in his ears - you didn’t come alone tonight - when she had watched his eyes trace your path out of the market. How he’d initially thought about taking her up on her offer to help him forget, wanting to obliterate last night from his memory and lose himself in her eyes and lips. Her final words to him, cutting him to the core- she must be really special and if she is as special as you think she is, you fight for her.

Bloodshot eyes and deep creases stare back at him from the mirror. More grey. They say that age exchanges beauty for wisdom but they are the same mistakes he keeps repeating. A strangled gasp escapes him as he tries to regulate his breathing, lifting his chin trying to fill his lungs with more oxygen. His shoulders are racked by gut-wrenching sobs and like an overwhelmed dam, the tears spill in hot torrents down his cheeks. Marcus slides onto the floor, allowing the grief to pour forth.

His first marriage was too much, too soon, too young. An art historian and an artist in love with creating and observing beauty until the former decided to change tack after being recruited by the FBI. The long hours of training at Quantico, the subsequent hard days and irregular nights as he worked his way through the ranks of the Art Crime department, wrung the patience from his wife. Gradually growing further and further apart until all that was left were two strangers constantly at odds, her cutting comment about how she felt that he gave her only apathy - never coming to her when she needed help or affection. She hated him for the choices he made - feeling that his work was merely interacting with the meaningless. The law enforcer spent more time at work to hide from the inevitable ending until the artist found someone who appreciated her and the beauty she created.

As for Lisbon. Was she really ever his? Wasn’t he really just a footnote in the Patrick Jane story? The whirlwind romance that progressed and extinguished again at such a heart attack inducing pace, emphasised by that stupid-ass move to DC. Although, if it wasn’t for that move, he wouldn’t be here in London now. Oh yeah. That was out of the skillet and into the fire, Pike. Another excellent career move.

So much love to give and nowhere, no one to give it to. The lessons he has learnt and is still learning but oh, just to find that person with whom you can drop that mask and enjoy togetherness, warmth and serenity.

The side of the bath offers a solid cool support to Marcus as he sits there on the herringbone tiled floor, sobbing into his arms. There is only one voice he needs to hear right now. Grabbing a tissue from the side to noisily blow his nose into, he rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes before putting his glasses on. Phone in hand, he dials the number he knows better than his own name.

The familiar dial tone is like a lullaby in his ear, “Mamá?... Hey! How are you doing?... I’m sorry Mamá - I forgot about the time zone difference... I’m ok, just missing you… It’s just been a long week and... Yeah, London is awesome and I managed a trip to France this week which was incredible to be back there. So weird having so many different countries within such easy reach…Come visit me soon?... Thank you... I miss you… Te quiero mucho Mamá… I’ll ring you in a couple of days. Hasta luego.”

Hanging up, everything feels a bit more manageable and less painful- I wish I could bottle my Mamá’s voice. Hauling himself off the bathroom floor, he turns on the faucet to splash icy water on his face. Sniffing his t-shirt, realising the shower could wait - perhaps a good run to get the endorphins pumping would be his best move. Or perhaps a text to Nush to check what ingredients he’d need to have in for the curry tomorrow?

Stop it, Pike. You’re just fucking torturing yourself.

Opening a drawer, he pulls out basketball shorts, a clean t-shirt and a pair of sneaker socks to throw on, discarding last night’s clothes in a heap by the washing machine.

AirPods in and classic nineties dance anthems to pace himself to, he gives his quads and hamstrings a quick warm up by the front door before it is time to convert the emotional pain into miles.

One of the many things that Marcus loves about London is the constant greenery with every second corner a park or stretching heathland. Texas is so proud of its big sky country status and yet, there are parts of central London where you could lie down and not see anything but skies around you. It is truly hard not to fall in love with such a beautiful, historical and spacious city.

Pounding the pavements towards the park, his feet hit the concrete slabs softly, sending small shockwaves to his brain. Whilst Marcus knows that the power in his thighs could have him across the park in seconds, he savours each step. The precision in his movements is perfect as he takes lungful after lungful of the sunshine filled air. It feels like part of a meditation - a mindful prayer. Dodging around errant dogs and small, clumsy yet terrifyingly aggressive children on scooters, he winds his way through the avenues of trees until he comes across a small lake.

He pauses the thrumming music in his ears to just soak up the tranquility of the moment as he stretches out his limbs. The lake is the kindest of nature’s mirrors, never truly showing exactly what is above, but converting it to an image so beautifully smudgy. The weeping willow stroking its branches elegantly across the skin of the water, the clouds gliding silently above as a host of waterfowl paddle effortlessly through the cool, clear pool, all become a priceless Monet hanging in The National Gallery – all free for the looking. Sure, it is transient, changing by the day - unlike the fixed in a moment of time pieces by the grumpy old Frenchman - but that's what makes it all the more precious.

There’s a family by the water’s edge. Marcus can’t help but be amused by the toddler’s antics as they threaten to jump in and become irritated that they can’t, especially when they have their wellies on. Can’t fault that logic! The older child is gathering sticks to make a “campfire” with their dad - discarding most of their parent’s choices with withering looks and expressive rolls of the eyes. The dark-haired mom, whilst trying to reason with the toddler, is swaying with some sort of baby carrier tied around her - a tiny one clutched tightly to her chest. The infant is virtually invisible from the passes of material, only two tiny socks and its little woolly hat peeking free. A collie is also darting between and around them, rounding up his flock of sheep, taking his role as protector very seriously.

The scene makes Marcus smile as he stretches out his muscles. Whilst he can’t help but watch and yearn for something similar in his life, the mom looks up and over in his direction,

“Are you going to come over and say hi or just be a park weirdo that lurks in bushes pretending to stretch?” a familiar voice curtly teases.

Nush - what the fuck?

“Your face is a fucking picture! Take a breath - these are three of my five niblings - big one is Sophia, middle one that keeps threatening to swim in the pond is Alexa and this little dot is Oscar. As for that blundering idiot, this is Adam, my oldest brother- their dad,” gesturing towards your brother you giggle, creasing up in laughter at the sheer shock then relief on Marcus’ face, “Ads, this is Marcus, my new boss that I told you about.”

The male version of Nush outstretched his palm, offering a sympathetic look, “Hi Marcus, pleasure to put a face to a name. I’m so sorry that you have to put up with my cowbag-of-a-sister at work.”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at the friendly sniping between brother and sister, reminding him of his own teasing relationship with his sisters back home, “Hey! Your kids are beautiful. Oh, you must be Sebastian’s friend - who we saw at Model Market in Lewisham yesterday, Nush?” he questions.

“As much as Sebastian can have friends… Oh Nush, you didn’t, did you?” Adam’s face scrunches in disgust and judging in the way that only a sibling can do.

“No! Not this time,” Marcus loves the speed and vehemence to which you respond to your brother- and enjoys the sheer relief that is now guiltily coursing through his veins, “To give the man his dues, he won’t ever sleep with me when I’ve had too much to drink. Not that I was going to and not that it is any of your fucking business in the first place.” You add jabbing your brother in the softness of his tummy with every word you say.

“Nush, I was gonna text you this morning about tomorrow, if you’re still on to make the curries?” Marcus gently questions, willing you to agree.

“Hah! You’re trusting her to cook?” Adam laughs heartily at the suggestion, “I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Our mum still won’t let her near the chilli powder now.”

You growl at your brother, “I was a fucking kid at the time! And yes, I am more than happy to come and cook curries- what time suits you for me to come over? They do take a bit of time to make.”

Marcus struggles to hold back a snort of laughter, “Any time is good - and perhaps while they’re simmering, we can have some classic films on in the background?”

“Ah that sounds perfect,” your smile warming every inch of his skin.

“You sound perfect for her,” Marcus catches Adam muttering under his breath, his eyes widening at your brother’s comment.

“Shut your damn cakehole, twatface,” you slap your brother’s arm hard as you grind the words between your teeth, the two of you glaring with a mirror image of your eyebrows raised at each other.

“Um, I’d better continue my run before I cool down too much,” Marcus manages to spit out between the flushes of heat through his skin, “Great to meet you and your family, Adam. Nush, it’s lovely to see you and I’ll catch you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Marcus,” you smile at him before turning back towards your niblings, who are working together to create a den using an old fallen branch.

“I saw you running earlier,” Adam adds, “You’ve got a really good gait - as a physio, it’s great to see someone not destroying their joints. Do you do anything to support your running through cross training?”

“Uh no, but that’s a good idea as I don’t want any injuries. What would you recommend?” Marcus asks, genuinely intrigued and flattered by your brother’s compliment of his running style.

“Speak to Nush - yoga is perfect for stretching your IT bands, which as a man they’re generally always tight and only get tighter with repetitive movements like running or cycling. She’s the yoga queen and will know of a local teacher who can help you,” Adam grins, nodding towards his sister.

“There’s so much I have yet to learn about her,” Marcus shakes his head as he sorts out his headphones.

“Yeah, good luck with that!” Adam laughs as he pats Marcus on the back, “Anyway, enjoy the rest of your run and hopefully see you again soon.”

As Marcus gradually picks up his pace away from you and your family, his heart that had felt so dark and lonely, now feels light and airy. The release valve in his chest is finally loosened and there is a little bubble of excitement in his belly that he allows to build at the thought of tomorrow. The thought of your presence in his apartment, doing something as domestic as cooking, is truly a salve for his soul.

Perhaps he can just make believe until it becomes a reality.

Tag list of glory: @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @lunaserenade @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[snuggetfish]

How would Majima feel about meeting his girlfriend's family? Would he be excited to impress, prove that he's a good partner? Or would he be shaking in his little steel toe shoes, terrified of what they might think of him??? Would he even agree to it at all? I would think someone his age might be more old-fashioned and think it's an important milestone. Your thoughts?

Hmmm hmm. I think he’d be dreading the moment, to be honest. I mean... one look at Majima, with his haircut, eye patch and flashy sense of style and anyone who’s taken a stroll Kamurocho before would clock him as yakuza. What was that description from 0 again? “A dangerous air about him, kinda like the blade of a knife.” 

Majima knows a gangster doesn’t make for a good life partner, not in the eyes of most people and, hell, not even in his eyes... so, I think he’d try to postpone or avoid meeting the parents for as long as possible, even as the relationship gets increasingly more serious. “All they need to know is that I’m takin’ good care of ya,” would be his go-to deflection.

I think he’d only be persuaded once his partner hammers in this point for him: he’s a core part of her life, just like her family, and he occupies just as special of a place an her heart. A relationship like theirs can only grow strong if it’s predicated on complete honesty and I believe that’s something they’d both have to eventually agree on: no hiding. Not Majima hiding her from the Tojo and not her hiding Majima from her parents. The same way Majima was be excited as hell to introduce her to his kyodai, she wants him to meet the people she holds dear. Majima is for sure a little old-fashioned seeing as he’s a boomer  but I think this mostly manifests in his love for symbolism in gestures. To prepare for the meeting, he’d put some effort into brainstorming a gift. Actually, make that “overthinking” a gift. It would probably be Nishida in the end who comes up with the sensible solution: flowers and/or wine, nothing embarrassingly extravagant. Majima would try to take the “be yourself” advice to heart, but in terms of outfit, he’d still ditch the snakeskin in favour of a nice shirt or sweater. Not a full suit, just something that shows he respects the occasion without projecting the intimidating “patriarch” vibe either. Needless to say, the family crest is also staying at home. In conversation, he’d try to play up the construction company aspect, but if her parents have even remotely heard the name “Majima”, they likely know his business isn’t entirely above board. He’d feel like a clown denying it and, well, “no hiding”. So, if questioned, he’d be laconic, but sincere about what he does. Anyway, by the time the day arrives, he’d have already spent plenty of time going over all their possible reactions: fear, anger, disdain... Whatever the response, he’s calm, not letting any of the Mad Dog peek through. Because ultimately, it doesn’t matter if he’s got their approval or not, he’s not letting go of what is likely his final chance at happiness. Now because you mentioned old-fashioned, I also thought: would Majima be the type to ask dad for her hand in marriage? I say... no. He’s a product of his time, but he’s also a rebel - he was back then and he is now. Almost nothing in his life has gone according to “the script”, so I don’t think he’d be compelled to stick to such traditions. Moreover, I’d like to think he cherishes his partner enough to respect her agency here. He might be reluctant to pop the question, not because he thinks she wouldn’t say yes, but because she shouldn’t... but the decision is still hers and hers alone. Thank you for a very interesting question! 💙

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Sometimes a Great Notion

This is one of those old movies my mom requested that we couldn’t even find at our local library. It’s incredibly hard to track down, which says more about how easily lost our film history and culture can be as we move from format to format rather than its quality as a film, but that is another conversation. Basically this 1971 film is the second that Paul Newman directed, and it tells the story of the Stamper family, a family who run an independent logging business in a town where the local logging union has gone on strike. As independents, they take the union’s former contracts and as the film goes on, the consequences of that choice become larger and larger, and depending on your perspective, this is either an indomitable tale of the perseverance of the human spirit or a disheartening look at everything that makes America the end-stage capitalist nightmare it currently is.  

Some thoughts: 

It appears that I’m supposed to think Henry Fonda, as the patriarch of the Stamper clan, is a charming old coot, like an Archie Bunker type, complaining about Commie pinko socialists and calling his estranged son a New York fairy. I’m not really seeing the charm here.

I’m not 100% sure what’s going on with this subplot where Joe B (Richard Jaekel) and his wife apparently attend the Church of God and the Metaphysical Science...so maybe they’re cult members too? That never really gets delved into, which is a head scratcher.

I feel like with this dialogue they’re supposed to be kind of...gruff and jokey with each other, but I really don’t get it. None of it seems funny at all, just aggro. 

I think I'm just really confused about what exactly this movie IS. It’s not a character study because we’re learning so little about these people. It doesn’t seem to be a David vs. Goliath small business taking on The Man story because the whole union vs. Stamper family thing doesn’t seem to be anything the Stampers are that concerned about. Leeland (Michael Sarrazin) coming back after a long absence is certainly a wrinkle, but no one is actually delving into what that means for the family or how they feel about it. Like the purpose of the film seems to just be “these are some people doing their jobs and going about their business for a couple hours.”

Like for real, there are multiple really long segments that just show them doing logging shit. 

And listen, I’m not one of those people that only wants to watch media where I like the characters. There are a lot of bad people and evil characters that I don’t want to emulate and would absolutely hate to be around in real life that I REALLY enjoy watching. Hell, in the last year, my main TV hyperfixations have been Succession and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. So it’s not the fact that the Stampers are sexist, stubborn, union-busting jackasses. I just don’t really care about any of them and I question why I should care about their story because the movie isn’t doing a very good job at convincing me. 

There are some Very Good Dogs! At least that’s something.

This would be a way more interesting movie if Leeland and Viv (Hank’s wife, played with stunning grace by Lee Remick) hook up because Leeland is the only one who talks to her or listens to what she has to say. He sees her in a way no one else in the family sees these women at all. ESPECIALLY because even though Henry is Leeland’s father, Hank had an affair with Leeland’s mother too, which is deeply disturbing because we find out he was 14 and she was 30. Fuck, now there’s statutory rape and unresolved trauma involved. Wouldn’t this be a fantastic thing to actually talk about and delve into? Wouldn’t this whole relationship entanglement and the ripple effects it’s had on this family be really interesting? NOT ACCORDING TO PAUL NEWMAN I GUESS.

As much as I love Paul Newman, I’m really questioning a lot of his directorial choices, too. He can’t control the story or the script so much (this is based on a Ken Kesey novel) but other choices are baffling. The pacing is a mess. Some scenes go on for what seems like forever for no reason, others are brutally short or feel cut off. The transitions between scenes are all these quick cuts that don’t let anything breathe. Leeland and Viv’s deep, intimate conversation ends with her saying Hank’s satisfied and Leland asking “Are you?” and then BOOM next scene where bluegrass kicks in and they’re all riding motorcycles. What should have been a body blow of a moment gets its legs cut out right from underneath, and it’s a damn shame.

“To work and eat and screw and sleep and drink and keep on going, that’s for what. That’s all there is.” - the film’s central thesis, uttered by Henry Stamper in his big Oscar-worthy monologue. Which in a nihilist sort of way I agree with, but there’s a big fat asterisk that gets ignored here: if you’re doing those things and directly, knowingly causing the suffering of others - and you can make choices that AVOID that as much as possible, and you DON’T - well that’s where your philosophy turns to shit, I’m afraid.

And the consequences of that philosophy are laid bare when the Stamper family has one HELL of a bad day. Play stupid games and win stupid prizes. 

I really thought the movie was going to end with Hank sitting alone in his dark, quiet house drinking beer and feeling sorry for himself and maybe reflecting on the enormous cost of his decisions. Instead the movie ends with Hank displaying his father’s severed arm at the top of his boat, flipping the bird to the town he’s turned his back on. And frankly it’s a big “fuck you” to the audience as well, for thinking that the Stamper family could learn or grow or see outside of their own rugged individualism for one second. 

Did I Cry? I probably should have, but any emotional weight the tragedies we watch hold gets completely deflated when no one learns a goddamn thing from them. 

All things considered, this movie is a perfect encapsulation of the toxic attitudes that have yielded every single moral failing of America from its inception. The myth of the American frontiersman, pulling himself up by his bootstraps, owing nothing to no one and simply trying to work hard and provide for his own family - it’s all wrapped up in the same wars (both literal and figurative) we’ve been fighting for centuries. We’re supposed to cheer at the Stampers for sticking to their guns and moving forward to get the job done no matter the cost, and that’s precisely the fucking problem. Costs matter, especially when they’re paid in human lives. And I would be more willing to view this film as a fascinating artifact of attitudes that have gone by the wayside if we weren’t having the same damn argument today. As a result, it ends up just feeling frustrating. 

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[geraltcirilla]

I've seen quite a few people who just seem utterly confused or misinformed by what happened in Endgame and how it affected Agent Carter and Agents of SHIELD. So I'm going to try my best to clear the air.

Note: I’ve edited this a couple of times as people provide more information from the movies and BTS that add additional context and a clearer timeline.

Endgame

Endgame revealed Steve went back in time to marry Peggy. He has been her husband this whole time, and the father of her children. The Marvel confirmed this happened in the MAIN timeline, there is no separate timeline that was created because of his actions. Peggy always married Steve. Don't ask me how that affects the rest of the Avengers movies and if an Old Steve had been lurking around this whole time. I don't think Marvel even knows for certain. (There is a theory going around that since Steve already lived all the events in the Avengers and Captain America movies he was simply avoiding running into his younger self.)

Sharon Carter

How does this affect Steve x Sharon? Sharon Carter is Peggy's great-niece, meaning she is the daughter of Peggy's brother's son and NOT related to Steve by blood. I don't think she would have kissed Steve if she knew he married her great aunt, so it's likely when Steve returned to the 1940s he did not reveal his return and assumed a different identity. But this revelation still does make her kiss with Steve pretty gross.

Agent Carter

How does that impact the end of Agent Carter?

Steve went back in time AFTER the events of Agent Carter, so everything that happened in that show is still canon. Agents of SHIELD S7 confirmed Sousa was Peggy's partner in the SSR and helped her form SHIELD, he was one of the original high ranking officers of SHIELD, he was Chief Officer of the Western Region of SHIELD, and he was the first casualty of SHIELD (and therefore the first name put on the Wall of Valor). Sousa is considered a "legend" in SHIELD history.

We do not know what happened with Peggy and Sousa's relationship, but we do know by 1955 (the events of Agents of SHIELD S7) he and Peggy have broken up and are no longer work partners.

The Timeline Breakdown

So Steve "dies" in 1945 in CA:TFA.

Agent Carter season 1 begins in 1946, where Peggy and Sousa first meet as agents at the Eastern Division of the SSR.

Agent Carter season 2 ends in 1947 with Sousa and Peggy starting a relationship, and Sousa Chief of the Western Division of the SSR.

The shooting script for Endgame states the year Steve goes back to is 1949. 

In CA:TWS we see a Smithsonian interview with Peggy that takes place in 1953, and in it she states she is married.

In 1955 Sousa and Coulson have a conversation about how neither have ever been married.

You can easily deduce here that the husband Peggy references in the Smithsonian interview is Steve, not Sousa. At best Sousa and Peggy dated for two years.

Peggy & Sousa

So what happened between Peggy and Sousa?

We know the end of Agent Carter showed the potential for the beginning of a relationship. But neither Endgame nor Agents of SHIELD has outright said what happened. However, Agents of SHIELD has the benefit of actually having Daniel Sousa as a character now. He was taken by Coulson's SHIELD team right before he died and his death was staged. So according to history he died in 1955, but he's actually alive and traveling through time with the team. And with that, we are being fed breadcrumbs about him, his life, and his relationship with Peggy. Now once again nothing has been explicitly stated but we have been given a lot to infer with.

So let me get to the meat of it: I reject the notion that Sousa broke up with Peggy. I think based off certain actions and things he said in AOS it's pretty clear he harbored some unresolved feelings for Peggy in 1955, which is more in line with the dumped person, rather than a dump-ee. When he thinks Peggy has come to visit his division he fixes his hair in a reflection. He seems nervous by her arrival. He briefly mentions liking a certain type of person who fits Peggy's description, and talks about people he wanted to say goodbye to or see one last time (these vague statements were confirmed by the AOS writers to be about Peggy). I just think if he was the one to have ended things he'd be reflecting on it a bit differently.

And if you look back at Agent Carter, historically Sousa has consistently been the one more invested in their relationship than Peggy. In season 1 Sousa has a crush on Peggy, but Peggy is still hung up on Steve. At the end of the season Sousa actually asks Peggy out to dinner and she turns him down. In season 2 Sousa "runs away" to the Western Division of the SSR to escape Peggy and a broken heart. Peggy then has a romance with a man named Jason Wilkes. It's not until the end of season 2 when Peggy is finally open to the idea of pursuing a romance with Sousa, but it was a long road to get there and she wasn't always certain she wanted to. Keeping this in mind, it is more in-character and canon-compliant if Peggy left Sousa, NOT the other way around.

Now this is where y'all are going to hate me, but I think I have the facts on my side here so please don't come for my throat. If we are looking for a reason why Peggy would break up with Sousa, the answer is clear: Steve. The timelines match up. Steve returned to the past in 1949 right after the events of Agent Carter, meaning right after Peggy just started a relationship with Sousa.

Peggy wouldn't pursue a relationship with Sousa in season 1 of Agent Carter because she was hung-up on the memory of Steve. If Steve returned, alive, for her, three to four years after his "death", do you really believe Peggy would turn him down for Sousa? Sousa, who she only knew for three years and had only been dating for about ~2 years (if we are being generous)? There's no way. I'm sorry but it's not happening. It wouldn’t be in-character for Peggy. The Marvel universe had continuously built up Peggy and Steve to be that epic love that can’t be beat (both in the movies AND in the show Agent Carter), and as cute and Peggy and Sousa were, they were simply not comparable to what Peggy and Steve had. 

Now in 1955 when Sousa and Coulson are talking, Coulson says "There was someone. I couldn't stick around long enough to make it last," and Sousa said he had a similar story. Some people have taken this as an admission of guilt that the end of Peggysous was Sousa's fault, but I disagree. First, because Steve returned to the past after he died, as I stated previously he would have hid his identity and his return from everyone but Peggy to preserve the timeline. This is why Sharon didn't know Young Steve was her future great-uncle. So it is very possible Peggy didn't tell Sousa about Steve and Sousa doesn't know why the relationship ended, and by trying to justify and explain it to himself Sousa ended up placing the blame on his own actions or behavior in the relationship. Let's not forget when Coulson was talking about his "someone" (Melinda May) he didn't break up with her -- he died. So it's not like Coulson and Sousa were having a conversations about how they left anyone, they were having a conversation about how they felt the end of their relationships were their own faults.

So I think it is very, very fair to say Peggy and Sousa's relationship ended because she was still in love with Steve. And there's nothing wrong with that. No one is at fault. Sometimes relationships don't work out and it's okay. Believe it or not but there's no villains here.

Sousa and Peggy both got their happy endings, just not with each other. So there’s no bad blood. Everything worked out as it should.

Anyways! The only purpose of my post here is to clear the air, because I've read just about enough posts saying "...when Sousa broke up with Peggy..." and I really don't think that's true or fair to him. Nobody ever said Sousa broke up with Peggy, please leave my mans alone.

Edit: Also, as someone added in the replies to this post, right around the time Peggy and Sousa started their relationship Sousa was West Coast Chief of the SSR and Peggy was about to join Howard Stark and others to form SHIELD in New Jersey. This combo among Steve returning is the perfect storm for a breakup.

[acid-hydrangea]

“I”

There was a boy named Sig, who had many, many questions.

*Note: Sig uses he and they pronouns in this work interchangeably.

Sig awoke to the gentle, blue hues of his room flooding his vision. The quiet morning air tinged with the sounds of birdsong and the beaming of harsh sunlight. It was 5:32 AM. The Fever Bird month had just begun.

They hoisted themself out of bed and opened the window, breathing in the crisp morning air soaking in his surroundings, he’d neglected the rough, coarse sensation on--in--through? his shoulder... He moved to the other end of his room, and upon checking the mirror they discovered that the ‘totally not worrisome’ crimson growths had spread further, practically covering his whole left shoulder, almost touching his neck. The natural ringing in his ears felt louder than usual. He stared for a moment at his reflection, his thoughts clouding his mind like an intense thunderstorm. Eventually, he broke eye contact with his reflection and got dressed for the day. 

He donned his typical shirt with the rest of his usual clothes, he went on his way, considering wearing their turtleneck sweater more often, despite the spring-summer heat.

--

    Sig’s gaze was transfixed on the clouds moving across the clear sky, like a herd of lazy sheep. Their thoughts drifted in all sorts of directions, but he wasn’t able to attach any words to anything he felt... Not even one, this time. He looked down at his desk, Accord’s voice and the sound of chalk against the blackboard fading into white noise as they scratched one of his left claws upon the desk’s surface. 

...What… was happening to him? Why didn’t anyone ever bother to tell him? He’s not a little kid, he could handle whatever they told him. Did he do something that scared everyone? Ever since he transferred to this class, his arm and eye suddenly changed. People gave him weird stares, and tried to avoid him. When his caretaker Akuma found out, he tried every single spell and magic seal he could, to reverse the process. None of it worked. Every now and then, he tried again, rinse and repeat every so often. Fast-forward to the 'incident' nobody wants to talk about, involving bookworm. Fast-forward again to that blonde witch's potion... Ever since that, no... Even before that, he swore he was--

    His thoughts were disrupted by the sound of the school bell signalling the end to another day.

“... And that wraps up our lessons for the day! Be sure to review your notes, and do your homework, everyone. I will be here for the next hour if you need help.” 

He just sat there, trying to think through his memories, to make sense of it. Most students dispersed, the sound of students’ papers rustling and bags being picked up off the floor slowly replaced the white noise in his head. Klug and Raffina probably left separately, Amitie rushed to Accord’s side for help with the homework, and Lidelle was off to do her observations on the moonsunflower this week. 

Sig remained in his seat, having wordless conversations with his little bug friends, instead. Asking them about their days, as he always did, mostly oblivious to the events of his own. He’d have been last to leave if Amitie and Lidelle weren’t there. He did things at his own pace typically, leaving whenever his bug friend did.

...Today was different, though. Something felt different. A gnawing feeling that used to feel trivial had grown over time. The deformations from his left arm had been spreading constantly, no amount of Akuma’s rites, treatments, or spells slowed it down. It’d been a year since that incident happened, and a few months later, something else... Two incidents, and no answers. All he had were questions that were shunned away with words like “It’s nothing for you to worry about,” or “We’ll take care of it, so don’t ask too many questions.” All he could do was believe them, because they had his best interest in mind, right...?

Akuma never provided actual answers when asked, only empty words of... What felt like false reassurance,“Don’t worry your young head about it”, while chanting mysterious incantations with paper, “We’ll heal you someday”, casting archaic-sounding spells, handing him multiple charms,

“Don’t think about what scares you, only think happy thoughts, kuma.”

Scary? Was something wrong with him in the first place? Something that felt like a part of him, ingrained in him since birth, treated as a curse and a disease once his hand and eye turned that shade of crimson? It got him in trouble so many times, in ways he had no control, something he was forced to be at the center of. Fate was drawing chaos towards him, like a violent vortex. Was he never supposed to think about ‘himself’ ever again? What could he even do about the world revolving so sporadically around him? 

The ladybug flew away, right out the window, to greener pastures.

--

    Eventually, Amitie left the classroom. She waved goodbye to Sig, seemingly getting the sense that he wasn’t in the mood to walk home together that day. She flashed him a worried smile, and then disappeared out the door. 

He wasn't feeling up to talking to his teacher in the first place, but... The nagging feeling wouldn't go away until he did. Sig stood up from the desk and walked over to Ms. Accord’s desk.

"Good afternoon, Sig. Do you need any help with what we learned today?"

"Something... else."

“Oh? What is it, is something troubling you?”

He... Didn't know how to ask, what to ask...? He was prepared to just be told nothing, anyways, but... They really wanted to know. They were feeling... Confusion, anger? Fear, sadness... Any mental script they had in mind was gone. He didn’t realize just how intense his fear of the unknown was.

"I.... Is there something wrong with me? Am I... going to become something bad... Do you know what's... Happening to me ...?"

They didn't realize how scared their expression was, like a deer in headlights.

"Sig...? Dear, are you alright? Did something happen?"

He was trying not to cry when he ended up thinking about everything he was told not to, gripping his arms tightly. Sometimes, it felt harder to breathe, or think... Was it just him, or something else? His vision grew blurry from held-back tears...

--

Sitting in a chair Ms. Accord pulled up, he didn't have it in him to look her in the eye. Everything was silent for some time...

"I'm... scared. You, Akuma, everyone... You all know things about me..."

He tried to make eye contact with her, if barely, only able to meet eyes with her puppet.

"Why don't you want me to know? Do I need to be fixed...? Is something bad going to happen with me...? To people around me? I've always... been like this... So I don't know. Everyone acts like it's forbidden stuff..." 

Digging his fingers into his arm, he was shaking...

"I don't want to live like this. Knowing nothing about myself... It's so scary. No one likes scary people. No one wants to be around someone who hurts people. It makes me feel like I'm going to ruin everything, someday..."

"... I told you, you all shouldn't keep secrets from him, nya. Lookit what it did to the poor kid...", Popoi whispered to her. What could she say? The cat was right...

"Sig... I'm sorry, I truly am. It was never my intention to cause you such anxiety... Please, try to look at me..."

"I... can't..." 

"Please know, then... You're not in any danger, and your friends aren't, either. No one's going to get hurt just because you're here... You said you've always been like this, right?"

Sig nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

"You've always been a prized pupil and friend to many, Sig... That won't change just because of your arm or eye... Those make you who you are, and you're a wonderful person."

"... Thanks... teacher..."

Taking some deep breaths, he sighed... He still had more questions. Many more.

"... I want to know... Something else..."

"You have my word that I'll answer to the best of my abilities, from now on."

Having wiped his tears away, putting faith in her words, 

"... What made me like this? Does it have something to do with what happened a year ago...? I know... you know something... You were helping... him... Lemres."

Silence permeated through the room.

"Akuma informed me, when you enrolled, that your sudden changes were nothing to worry about. As far as my knowledge goes, there's nothing abnormal about your condition that would warrant any worry. As for the incident..."

"... Teacher?" 

"I promise I'm being honest, my knowledge of what happened... Is very little. I only know what it is that Lemres told me about those 3... objects."

"Which... is...?"

" Those... The items, they are connected to a certain item of ill omens... I do not know anything more. He kept such details to himself..."

... Did she think he forgot about the bookworm's book? He wasn't clueless, he knew there was something weird about it. Bookworm always makes the effort to tuck it away specifically when he approaches. He almost seemed to prioritize making sure he never even so much as touched it. He got annoyed when others did, and downright terrified when he did. He wasn't fooling anyone, Sig simply didn't pay the thought any mind until now.

Having almost-fully regained his composure, he stood up, 

"Teacher... If that really is all you know... I'm going to find out more, by myself.", making himself clear, he was finally able to project his voice a bit louder.

"... I'm  sorry, that truly is the extent of my knowledge, but... Sometime soon, I could invite him over, and he could tell you what he knows...?"

... It was reassuring to see she actually parted with details. All it took was... Crying. Stressful. He just wanted to get out. He especially wanted nothing to do with that candy weirdo.

"I...don’t want that. See you next week, teach."

With that, he left. 

Tomorrow, it would be time to visit the bookworm Klug, instead.

Ms. Accord, too, had her own plans for the weekend.

--

End Notes: surprise surprise i’m gonna be uploading fics up here from now on. this fic’s been in the works for awhile and it still is- but i’m really excited to show everyone it! if it’s possible, i’d like to affix art to every single chapter going forward. thank you for reading, and feel free to let me know what you think via. replies or asks. reblogs and likes are especially helpful for getting the word out! catch me on my main blog at @marxsoul, or my twitter at @marxsoui, and see you when the next chapter’s out~

[imsurethisisprobablyabadidea]

The Beginning.

The beginning of the fanfic with no name. 

No warnings here. It is, after all, just the beginning!

Word Count: 1,276 (I told you this series would be long)

Mornings suck. We can all agree on that. However, we can probably also agree that mornings suck even harder after sleepless nights. You’ve been having a lot of those recently. Do you remember the feeling of anticipation right before a big vacation as a child? Or Christmas? Christmas Eve is the most difficult time to sleep. You used to lie in bed counting the hours in your head. 

If I go to sleep now, do I think Mom and Dad will let me wake them up in 5 hours and start the festivities?! 

The past week worth of nights have felt like that. That feeling when you are 100% assured something big and exciting in the morning, when the sleep, for a change, isn’t relaxing, but an obstacle keeping you from the true prize. You’d honestly like to give a shoutout to coffee for keeping you coherent recently. It’s through the grace of God and Arabica that you even made it to this dreary Monday morning. Which, as you hope we can all agree on again, is the worst kind of Morning. But today, you don’t even care. you’re awake, and it is Christmas morning, time to depart on your much awaited vacation, the day you win the lottery...whatever you want to call it. Either way, you’re done with the anticipatory sleepless nights today.

Even mornings here are warm. When your alarm clock goes off, that’s the first thing you notice, rolling over. Well, shifting over. This tiny twin bed doesn’t allow for a glamorous amount of room. Your body seems to be radiating heat already. The feeling of the humid air is what finally causes you to snap out of your sleepy stupor. You sit up in bed, wiping an embarrassing amount of drool off my chin. With a generous stretch, you swing my legs over the bed and sigh. The walk to the tiny bathroom in your tiny apartment is, if you can believe it, short. Once the shower begins to run, the small space is even more sweltering than your bed. Perhaps some people would take a cold shower to even out the weather, rather than complaining about the temperature as they make it worse, but not you. If anyone ever catches you taking a cold shower, send the ambulance. After all, this is a very important shower. It’s a big day, and you want to make a good first impression. When you work this closely and hands-on with people, shaving your legs becomes a pretty high priority. With such a lengthy shower, you had certainly cooled off by the end. Hey, guess that means the size of the water heater compliments the rest of the loft! You towel off quickly, brush your teeth, and run a comb and some product through your hair and leave it to dry of its own accord. When the air is this thick, there’s no sense in trying to tame the curly mane. While the Atlanta air saves you time on your hair, it’s the lengthy work day that cuts down the makeup time. A quick swipe of mascara and concealer will do, getting you out the door quicker too. Which is good, cause you’re already running late and, as previously mentioned, first impressions are everything. 

Regardless of how late you am, you cannot skip coffee. So you throw on a pair of black leggings and a tank top, and race out the door. Starbucks, here you come. One trenta caramel macchiato later, and you’re feeling much more ready to face the day. We can pretend it was the block you jogged to the cafe and back, but we all know it was the unhealthy amount of caffeine. Trying to avoid rush hour traffic at this ungodly early hour, you begin my trek to the studio. Since it’s the beginning of production, today will be one of the easiest for you. It’ll begin with a script read through which, with the projected runtime of this film, will take a good bit, and then, after lunch, begin to work on some costuming, makeup, and fight choreography. You could not be more grateful for the scenery today. Though it is very fun to be on location, the air conditioning in the studio feels like kisses from heaven on this scorcher of a day.

People are already bustling around when you walk in the door. 

Maybe I got the call times wrong.

You fret. Luckily, a quick swipe through your email assuages my fears. All these PAs must be eager to impress. Weaving through the masses, you make it to a much calmer room. It’s fairly plain, just tables, chairs and scripts, but then you notice the bagel spread against the wall. You love a good bagel. So, you grab yourself breakfast and take your seat, facing the open “U” the tables create. Only a few of the talent are here yet, sitting calmly in front of their nameplates, quietly reading through their scripts for what you are sure is the millionth time. By the time production makes it to this stage, most actors have their lines almost completely memorized. And with the quality of actors on this film, you’d be willing to bet your tiny apartment, for all it’s worth, that most of them would only use their printed scripts to make notes, not to read.

Though you’ve never worked with this cast before, a quick scan of the room confirms that those present are who you would assume the usual “early birds” are. Anthony Mackie sits calmly, although he isn’t reading his script like the others. Just staring at his phone. From the looks of his finger swiping...playing Tetris? Scarlett Johannson, however, is trained on her lines, her lips moving slightly as she runs through them. A laugh draws your eyes to the last two people at the tables. Mark Ruffalo smiles, script forgotten as his costar tells him what you have to surmise is a hilarious story. His eyes meet yours and he offers a slight wave of his hand. You smile and wave your fingers back. Chris Evans, his conversation partner, turns over his shoulder to meet your eyes as well, a smile lifting the corner of his lips.

You smile at him as well, with, you’ll admit it, a bit more heat on your cheeks than could be attributed to the Georgia humidity outside. Because, come on, we’ve all seen the man! He shifts back around, continuing his chat with Mark. You turn to your phone, people filtering into the room steadily now, deciding to spend the next few minutes responding to emails. When you look up next, the table is full, Robert Downey Jr, Sebastian Stan, Chris Hemsworth, and Jeremy Renner having joined the fray. Clearly, with a Marvel project, it’s nearly impossible to have the entire universe in the same room, so this script read will only feature the original six, plus Mackie and Sebastian, of course. The rest of the parts will be read by production staff. As the last stragglers file into the reading, Anthony Russo stands to address the room. With some passing comments about how important this film is to bring the MCU’s Phase 3 to a head, and jokes about the professionalism of his beloved cast, You settle into your seat as Russo begins by reading the movie’s title, “Avengers: Infinity War”. 

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary:   The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 12: The Letter

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter

Word Count: 1,582

Chapter Summary: The events of the Games have Teki’s head spinning.

A/N:  This is the calm before the storm.

Thanks for reading! 

TW: Mentions of child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @moumouton4 @berriemalfoy

if you want to be tagged, feel free to just send me an ask/message! :)

Read it on Ao3!

Teki picked at the sash of her dress as she sat in her seat on the podium. Before her, the Games continued in all their raucous glory, but she barely registered them. Odin hadn’t spared her even a passing glance when he returned to his seat. Frigga had given her a reassuring smile, but there was a tightness in her face that blocked any comfort she may have intending to bring. Her mind was racing.

What are they thinking? Are they angry? Am I in trouble? Are they going to tell Osvald? Does he know what happened?

And then there was the other thing. The thing that Loki had said just before she went rushing from the tent.

I don’t want you to marry my brother.

Teki didn’t even know how to try to untangle her thoughts on that.

The words still rattled in her head even as she readied for bed that night, once she realized that Osvald was far too drunk to remember whether or not she stayed in her seat the entire day. After helping Brant into his nightclothes and tucking him in, Teki returned to her room in a pensive silence.

I don’t want you to marry my brother.

A secret, selfish part of her had always wanted him to say that. It had been easy to deny when it was hidden away, out of sight. She could ignore the butterflies that fluttered to life every time he smiled at her when it seemed she was the only one who could feel them. But Loki had released them into the wild, and now they were impossible to corral.

I don’t want to marry your brother either.

Tears prickled across her vision. Teki wiped at her eyes in frustration. None of them wanted it. Loki, Thor, Sif, herself—none of them wanted this engagement. And none of them mattered.

She dug under her mattress for her father’s journal. She wasn’t certain that even the familiar script would be enough to soothe her jumbled thoughts tonight, but still she flipped through the pages in search of comfort. The search for her father had been put on the back burner while Loki prepared for the Games, but Teki hoped to continue it as soon as possible. Running her hands down the leather spine, she closed her eyes and imagined him walking through the door for the first time in years, imagined showing him how she had taught herself the pieces he was able to play for her, imagined him meeting Brant, meeting Loki…

Her daydream abruptly stalled when her fingers slipped into a split in the back cover. What? Teki glanced down in surprise. Had she torn the book?

No. There was a flap on the inside cover, a pocket that she had never noticed before. What the Hel? She pulled it open, peering into the grimy leather cavern. It was empty, save for a tiny piece of paper, folded into quarters and yellowed with age.

She recognized her father’s handwriting immediately, although it was a bit more polished than the hurried scrawl she usually found in his journal. It was an unfinished letter, she realized dimly, dated the week before he left, addressed to her mother.

Áslaug—

I understand your frustrations, and I realize your father has put you under considerable pressure. But I beg you to examine why this proposal is so important to you and ask yourself what you hope to gain from it. It’s become alarmingly clear to me these past few months that your highest priority lies in increasing your own social stature, and I fear that you have signed off on this marriage agreement only because of the benefits it would bring you and without a thought given to how it may effect Tekla. I know you argue that it would be good for her in the long term, and perhaps it would, but neither of us can know that with certainty. And in your greed, you would take away her right to choose her own destiny. I cannot allow that. I will not consent to my daughter being used as a bargaining chip for your family’s schemes.

Teki reread the words several times over, their meaning not fully dawning on her for a bit. I will not consent to my daughter being used as a bargaining chip for your family’s schemes. They were talking about her arranged marriage, obviously, but this couldn’t have been her father’s true thoughts. A marriage agreement could not be made official without the wholehearted approval from both sets of parents. He had to have agreed.

Although…

Her father left only a few days before the arrangement was made public. Actually, now that she thought of it, Osvald and her mother’s engagement was announced before her own. She remembered her mother’s frantic insistence that she accept her stepfather into her life as quickly as possible.

We have Lord Osvald, Tekla. He’s your father now.

If he believed Steinn would no longer be in her life, would Odin have accepted Osvald’s word as her paternal consent? Possibly. Probably.

That must have been convenient for her mother.

She remembered Völundr’s hazel eyes, how somber they had grown when Loki asked him if he had heard from Steinn.

I don’t know what happened that night, but I know there’s no way in Hel he left you of his own accord.

Teki closed the journal in a fog, tucking the creased letter within the pages. All at once, she felt as if she was going to be sick.

…

She had hoped for a chance to talk to Loki at some point during the night-long feast that followed the conclusion of the Games. The Great Hall was booming with boisterous celebration. Prince Thor had been crowned champion yet again, the perfect excuse for everyone to get wildly drunk. He certainly was making the most of it—in between overflowing mugs of mead and garbled chants with his friends, he pulled Sif across the dance floor and planted his lips firmly on hers in front of all to see. Teki pretended she didn’t notice the whispers, the scandalized glances as people turned from the Crown Prince to his would-be bride. She waited patiently in her seat for Loki to ask her to dance, fiddling with the sash of her crimson dress.

He danced with other girls first. That bothered her more than it should have. Teki knew of course that she had no claim on the younger prince’s company, but that didn’t quiet the feral growl gurgling in her chest every time she watched him bow to another. Mine. He’s mine.

It didn’t help that for the first several dances Loki didn’t even as much as look in her direction. At first, Teki bristled. Why was he avoiding her? Was he angry? Did he… did he regret what he said to her after his duel?

But as the night went on, Teki began to worry that there was something else going on. His frame was stiffer than usual. His quiet conversation somehow carried over the clamor of the Great Hall. The boy who usually preferred to remain hidden in the shadows seemed to be making a point of emphasizing his presence. She was relieved when he finally made his way over to her seat.

He bowed. “Lady Tekla.”  Teki barely masked a frown. Tekla? Yes, something certainly was off.

Still, she stood and curtseyed as if she thought nothing of it. “My prince.”

“Would you honor me with the next dance?” Loki’s voice was loud, and oddly stilted. Again, Teki felt as if he was putting on a performance. She nodded, allowing him to lead her to floor.

“Is something wrong?” she whispered as they navigated through the throng of merrymakers.

Loki shook his head, almost imperceptibly. “My father,” he hissed under his breath. “He’s had his eye on me all night.”

She glanced back towards the podium without moving her head. Odin sat back in his throne, his disapproving glare fixed solidly upon the two of them. Teki gulped.

“Are you in trouble because of me?” she asked. She thought of the tent, how she had fled first chance she got and left Loki to defend himself alone. Guilt festered in her heart.

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” he said quickly, pulling her farther back across the dance floor. “He’s just… concerned. That I’m getting in the way.” He grimaced, scanning the crowd surrounding them. “You need to dance with Thor tonight.” The words came out stiffly, as if merely voicing them aloud pained him.

“I can’t!” she hissed. Thor was in the corner, surrounded by a group of people Teki didn’t recognize, chugging a goblet of something as they chanted excitedly. “He never asks me.”

Loki followed her gaze, sighing. “He’s a fool. I’ll make sure he asks you.”

The song was nearing an end. She still hadn’t told him about the letter. Teki pulled his arm.

“Loki, I found something else in the journal,” she whispered. “About my father.”

The prince’s eyes widened. “Really?” But the dance was coming to a finish. Loki led her back towards the platform, the two of them wilting under Odin’s stare. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he murmured as he bowed, giving her hand a slight squeeze.

Teki nodded. “Goodnight.” She sighed as her prince disappeared back into the crowd and returned to her seat, resigning herself to a night of waiting for Thor to remember her.

[someone-somewheresomehow]

I’ve Got Your Picture (Chapter 1)

Characters: Roman, Virgil, Patton, Logan, Janus, Remus, Thomas (briefly mentioned once)

Ships: Prinxiety, Intruloceit

Content: Enemies to Friends to Lovers trope (kinda?)

Word count: 4434

Summary: Roman sees who he knows is the love of his life at the library - but when they get off to a hostile start, he not only has to make it up to them but find them again.

AO3

  “But Logan, libraries are boring!” Roman whined as Logan pulled him up the steps. “All they’ve got are old books and the only good ones are in the fantasy section, and I’ve already read all of the ones in this library!”

  “You read? I’m impressed,” Logan grumbled back. “Look, you have to come with me. I’ll let you go into the fantasy section or look at the scripts for musicals or whatever you want as long as you wait for me to get what I want. Got it?”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “You get to read for once, something I’ve seen you do maybe twice. Maybe.”

  Logan sighed and rubbed his face in an annoyed gesture as Roman shot him a glare. “Fine. We’ll go to that cafe that you wanted to show me. Fair?”

  “Okay!” Roman perked up. Logan had been avoiding it for days, but Roman just knew that he would love the cafe. It was perfect for a nerdy bookworm like him!

  They entered the huge doors and walked into the library itself. Roman immediately rushed off to grab the nearest fantasy book and sit on one of the couches as Logan wandered off to god-knows-where. Probably the science section.

  As he settled down, Roman took a moment to take in the surroundings. There weren’t many people in the library today. A couple of kids with their parents, a young teen wandering around on their own, the librarian - what was their name? Oh, right, Thomas - who Roman could now see was one of the reasons - or maybe the only reason - why Logan wanted to come here. Logan had started a conversation with them, and it appeared that they wouldn’t stop talking for a while.

  Roman pulled open his book to finally start reading, but then something caught his eye. From between the shelves emerged someone he’d never seen before. They had purple hair and was wearing a black hoodie around their waist. A dark purple shirt covered their thin frame. As they turned towards Roman, he saw that dark eyeshadow was put underneath their eyes.

  They waved at Roman, a smirk on their face, and he realised that he was staring. He sunk down more into his chair and reopened his book.

  As soon as the person started moving again, Roman peeked around his book to watch them. They walked over and checked out the book they were holding - what was it? Roman couldn’t quite see - before heading towards the door. They glanced over their shoulder right at him, the smirk still on their face, before exiting the library, leaving Roman to stare at the place they had been.

  “What are you looking at?” Logan’s voice startled him back to reality.

  “Uh, nothing!” Roman said hurriedly. Logan’s frown deepened.

  “Well, I suppose we have to go to the cafe now. A deal’s a deal.”

  Roman perked up. “Oh yeah! Trust me, you’re gonna love it!”

  Logan chuckled. “If you say so. But it’s unlikely.”

  “That’s what you said last time!”

  “And you said I would like it at the waterpark, but I didn’t.”

  “Stop fibbing! You totally loved it.”

  “I did not!”

  After a few more minutes of bickering, they arrived outside of the cafe. Logan tried to look inside through the window, but Roman quickly pulled him back and covered his eyes underneath his glasses. “You can’t look yet!” He chided. “It’s a surprise!”

  They walked in the door, the bell chiming, and Roman took his hands off of Logan’s eyes, revealing the cafe in front of them.

  The ceiling was covered in a beautiful painting of stars, whole galaxies of purples and blues. The soft glows of the lanterns on the pale cream walls provided a dim lighting that shone over the rest of the cafe. At the back were bookshelves, with labels on each shelf that told you the genre of the books and various signs saying that they were free to borrow for those at the cafe. The wooden floors creaked gently under each footstep, and the customers sat around small wooden tables, speaking in soft murmurs. Behind the counter a couple of baristas bustled around, making orders and fixing drinks. Occasionally they would call out a name and someone would stand up and receive it before quickly returning to their seat.

  Logan stood frozen in the doorway, so still that Roman grew worried. “Hey, Lo?” He asked quietly. “Are you okay?”

  He looked over the room once more. “Do you like it?”

  Logan gave a start as Roman spoke, almost as if he had forgotten he was there. “Like it?” He whispered. “It- it’s beautiful.”

  Roman smiled. “I told you you’d love it.” He led Logan over to the nearest free table, Logan apparently too awestruck to do anything himself. “You can go look at the books and stuff while I go order! They’ve got all sorts of books for nerds like you!”

  “N-nerds? Roman!”

  Roman grinned and went up to the counter. “One medium black coffee with one sugar, and one large cappuccino.”

  After ordering he went back to the table and sat down, watching as Logan browsed the shelves.

  The bell chimed, drawing Roman’s attention to who had just entered the shop. And lo and behold, it was the person that he had seen at the library, their book tucked under their arm and their long, side swept bangs covering one eye. They looked around the room, and looked startled when they spotted Roman, but quickly schooled their features and gave him a small smirk. They waved, before heading towards the back of the cafe and sitting at a free table.

  “Who are they?” Logan’s voice startled him back to reality for the second time that day.

  “No one!” Roman answered hurriedly. “I mean, I don’t know.”

  Logan frowned. “What do you mean you don’t know?” He sighed and gestured with one hand, the other holding a book. “Go talk to them.”

  “What?”

  “I’m presuming they were who you were staring at at the library, so-” he made the gesture again. “- go talk to them.”

  Roman gaped at him. “I- um, okay.” He stood up and started walking over, trying to look as casual as possible, ignoring the fact that now both Logan and the new person were watching him.

  “Hey.” He greeted the person, all casual-like.

  “Hi. You’re the person from the library.”

  “I am.” Roman looked at the person, and oh god it was so unfair how their eyes were the most perfect shade of brown. “My name’s Roman.”

  “Virgil. They/them pronouns.”

  “Oh, I use he/him pronouns. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” They shook hands.

  “So why were you staring at me?”

  “Oh, um. Yes. Sorry about that.”

  Virgil smirked but didn’t press him.

  “So do you live here?” Virgil asked.

  “In this town, yes. Why?”

  “I don’t. I’m just here for a concert.”

  “Oh. Are you alone?”

  “No, I’m with a friend.”

  “How long are you here for?”

  “Why are you asking so many questions?”

  Roman blinked. “Um. I wanted… to be friends with you?”

  Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “Sure. I’m gonna buy a coffee and leave, and you better not follow me or I’m calling the cops.”

  “No, wait! I-”

  “Please. Go away.”

  Virgil stood up and went to the counter. Roman watched him go, not bothering to follow them - he knew that he would only get pushed away again.

  Sighing, he went back to Logan who sat buried in his book, now with his coffee sitting in front of him, Roman’s sitting opposite. Logan looked up as he approached and closed the book, holding one finger on the inside to keep his page.

  “It didn’t go well?”

  Roman sighed again and slumped into the chair opposite Logan. “Nope.”

  “You’ll find love someday.” Logan reopened his book and continued reading.

  “But when, Logan, when?!” Roman folded his arms and slumped on the table dramatically. “Tell me why?”

  “Ain’t nothing but a heartbreak.” Logan said in a monotone voice, closing his book again. “If I found love, so can you.”

  “Uhhhhhhhhhhhh.” Roman groaned and sat up, this time leaning back in his chair. “I still don’t understand how you got the attention of an extremely handsome man and-” he fake retched “- my brother.”

  “Your brother is also an extremely handsome man, Roman.”

  “Sure he is.”

  Now it was Logan’s turn to sigh. “Just tell me what happened.”

  Roman dropped his chair forward. “I went up to them and it started out fine but then it all went downhill.” He made a downward motion with his hand.

  They stared at each other in silence before Logan made a gesture with his hand. “Continue?”

  “That’s it.”

  Logan stared at him. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing!”

  “Falsehood. What did you do?”

  “According to them, I asked too many questions.”

  “You can be annoying sometimes.”

  “I- hey!”

  Logan sat back in his chair. “Did you get any information out of them?”

  “Um… they’re here for a concert.”

  “Do you know which one?”

  “Nope. They didn’t say.”

  “We’re going to a concert tomorrow. Panic! At The Disco, right?”

  “Oh, yeah! They look like an emo, maybe they’ll be there.”

  “Perhaps. You need to remember to be on time - we meet at your place at 11.”

  “Don’t you trust me?” Roman placed one hand on his chest and gasped in mock offence. 

“Logan, I’m always reliable. Especially with times.”

  Logan peered over his glasses at Roman. “Look me in the eyes and say that again, because it is most certainly not true.”

  “I’ll be ready, Logan. And I’ll make sure that Remus is too. You have to remember that we are all going together, and you and Remus aren’t to sneak off to snog in some dark corner. Got it?”

  “We won’t be doing that. And even if we are, it will be because he initiated it, so you should tell him to behave before we go.”

  “He’s your boyfriend.”

  “And he’s your brother. Don’t worry, I’ll be warning him as well.”

  “Mhm.” Roman looked over at the door, as if he expected Virgil to come back in and say sorry.

  The next day Logan knocked on the door of Roman’s house, perfectly on time as he always was. Well, except for that one time where he got distracted by a sale on Crofters and bought 12 jars. Roman would never dare to let him live it down.

  Remus greeted him with a kiss and brought him inside.

  “Hey, babe.” His usual stern expression softened for a moment before returning to normal. “Where’s Roman?”

  Remus gasped in mock offence, a perfect copy of Roman the day before. “Logan Anthony Berry! Are you more interested in my brother than you are in me?”

  “Never, love.” They shared another kiss. “But I don’t want to be late.”

  “He’s getting changed.”

  “Still? What’s his excuse this time?”

  “He woke up late and for some reason decided to sing the entire soundtrack of Hamilton in the shower. He’s probably going to tell you that he was late because of ‘artistic difficulties’ or something.”

  Roman ran out of the bedroom, pulling on his jacket. “Sorry I’m late! It’s because of artistic difficulties.”

  Remus turned to Logan with a look on his face that said What did I tell you?

  “Remus told me the actual reason. You’re lucky that Dee is even later than you are, otherwise you would be in enormous trouble right now.”

  “I know, I kn-” A knock interrupted him and they all rushed to the door.

  Logan opened it to find Janus smirking at him and greeted him with a kiss. “Are you ready to go?” Logan asked while Janus pecked Remus on the cheek.

  “If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

  “Then let’s go!” Logan practically pushed them out the door and into his car.

  “We aren’t late, Logan! It’s just a concert!” Roman exclaimed as Logan started up the car.

  “You and I both know that that isn’t true, Roman. You and Remus have been figuratively talking my ear off about this concert for months.”

  “It’s true.” Janus confirmed.

  There was an awkward silence before Roman rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Maybe… but still, Lo, it’ll be fine!”

  Logan pulled into the parking lot of the theatre. “We’re here.”

  There was a moment where everyone unbuckled their seatbelts and got out of the car. Roman and Remus were practically vibrating from excitement as they walked in.

  “Remember, all of you need to behave.” Logan warned them.

  “I’m always on my best behaviour, Logan! You can trust me!” Remus told Logan, eyes wide with innocence.

  “Sure you are.” They shared another quick kiss before Logan turned to Janus. “You need to help me keep him under control.”

  “Sure thing, captain.” Janus saluted, a huge grin on his face. “Do I get a kiss as well?”

  “Of course.”

  Roman interrupted their kiss halfway through. “While I love seeing you lovebirds make out, we do need to elbow our way to the front as soon as we can.”

  “Yes. Let’s go.” They headed off into the crowd, more than ready for the concert to start.

  Roman and Remus screamed out the words to the songs at the top of their lungs, jumping as high as they could to get a look at the stage. Janus and Logan watched them in happy silence, enjoying every moment.

  “Let’s kill tonight, kill tonight! Show them all you’re not the ordinary type! Let’s kill tonight!” They 

hollered along with the crowd and, of course, Brendon Urie, the glorious god of singing himself.

  The song ended, and the crowd cheered. Roman and Remus panted, matching grins stretching across their faces as they cheered together.

  Logan tapped on their shoulders and they spun around.

  “I’m going to go get some water!” He yelled over the crowd.

  “I’ll come with you!” Remus shouted back.

  “I’ll stay here and keep our spots!”

  “Me too!”

  Remus and Logan held thumbs up to indicate that they heard them and held off, holding hands totally just so that they didn’t get separated.

  They soon returned, carrying two bottles of water each. They handed one to Janus and Roman kept one for themselves each.

  “Roman! Guess who we saw!” Logan yelled.

  It took a beat before it sunk in. “You saw them?!” He yelled back.

  Logan nodded vigorously. “They’re about 10 metres directly behind us!”

  Roman immediately stood up on his tiptoes and tried to see over the crowd, even though he was too short to see far.

  “I’m gonna go find them!” He yelled at Logan. Logan flashed him a thumbs up and Roman moved off.

  After a few seconds he found them, chatting with someone else.

  “Hey!” He called, having his arms as he got closer. Virgil turned and saw him, a look of disgust quickly crossing their face before disappearing just as quickly.

  Roman reached them quickly and greeted the new person. “Hi! I’m Roman! He/him pronouns!”

  “I’m Patton! Also he/him pronouns! It’s nice to meet you!”

  They shook hands with each other before Roman turned back to Virgil. “I’m sorry about yesterday! I seemed to have freaked you out!”

  “Of course you freaked me out! You were acting like a creep!”

  “Again, I’m really sorry about that! Could I make it up to you?”

  There was a short pause while Virgil thought it over.

  “Come on, Virge! He seems like a good guy!” Patton nudged them. “Give him a chance!”

  “And how would you make it up to me?” Virgil asked Roman.

  “I could buy you a coffee or something sometime?”

  “You’d have to do it tomorrow because I’m leaving the day after that!”

  “Alright! May I have your number?”

  Virgil frowned. “Can’t we just meet up at the coffee shop we were at yesterday?”

  “I mean, I guess, but it would be easier to organize it if I had your number!”

  “Sure it would, but it’s just coffee. How about I meet you there at 3?”

  “That’s fine by me!”

  “Cool, I’ll see you then!”

  This was obviously Roman’s cue to leave, and, like a fool, he took it, returning to the others.

  Remus leapt on him the moment he saw him. “How did it go, lover boy?”

  Roman shot Logan a dirty look before turning back to Remus. “It went fantastically well.”

  “Did it now? Did you get their number?”

  “I did not. However, I am going out with them to a cafe tomorrow at 3.”

  “Ooh, fancy!”

  “It’s not actually. It’s just fancy compared to the places that you usually lurk.”

  Remus shrugged. “Same difference.”

  With that, he turned back and started singing with the crowd, and after a moment, Roman joined him.

  The next day Roman arrived at the coffee shop at 5 to 3 and sat down in the spot that he had seen Virgil sitting at a couple of days before.

  Virgil arrived at exactly 3, though Roman watched them hover around at the door for a couple of minutes before walking in. They walked over to Roman and sat down at the table.

  “You said you were going to buy me a coffee?”

  “Hello to you too. Yeah, if you tell me your order I’ll go get it.”

  “One small black coffee, nothing added.”

  “Ew.” Roman stood up and went to the counter before Virgil could reply. He ordered, “One small black coffee and one large caramel frappuccino.”, collected their drinks, and sat back down, handing Virgil their cup.

  “So,” He said. “If you’re not from around here, where are you from?”

  “What?” Virgil asked, confused.

  “When we first met, you said that you were just in town for a concert. Where are you from?”

  “Why do you need to know?”

  Roman was surprised at the sudden hostility. “...To get to know you better and see if we can hang out more?”

  “Mm. We’ll see.” Virgil took a slow sip of their coffee. “If you’re so interested in us getting to know each other, then you won’t mind if I ask you a few questions.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “First of all, why are you so interested in me?”

  “Because you’re hot.” Roman blurted out before he could stop himself. Now it was Virgil’s turn to be shocked. “And because you seem cool.” He added as if to cover it up. “And I was wondering if we could be friends?”

  “Wait, hold up.” Virgil closed their eyes, confused. “You think I’m hot?”

  “Um… yes.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence.

  “Um, okay. Moving on!”

  “Fine by me!”

  “Do you live in this town?”

  “I do, yes. I have for the vast majority of my life. I live with my brother.”

  “Is that the person that you came in with the other day?”

  “No, that was Logan. Who, coincidentally, is dating my brother. And a friend of mine.”

  “Okay.”

  There was another awkward silence while they figured out what to say to each other.

  “Do you want to go to the park? It’s kind of hot in here.” Roman said.

  “Sure.”

  With a scraping of chairs they stood up and walked out of the shop and down the street, still in silence. Talking to Virgil was harder than Roman had thought, but he was determined to get 

something out of them by the time they parted.

  They walked together into the park and sat on a bench, watching as kids flew kites and played 

together on the playground.

  “How long are you here for?” Roman asked.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh. That’s a pity. Your friend, Patton? Does he live here?”

  “Yeah, he does. I’ve been staying with him.”

  “Cool, cool.”

  There was yet another silence, though this one wasn’t as awkward as the others.

  Suddenly, Roman spotted a little shop by the edge of the grass. “Hey, look! They’re renting 

kites!”

  He jumped up and walked over to the stand, throwing his cup away in the bin as he did so. Virgil followed him, close behind.

  Roman paid for two kites and handed one to Virgil before running onto the grass. He unrolled it and ran, lifting it high into the air. He stood and watched it flapping in the breeze before looking back at Virgil.

  “Come on! Lift it into the air!”

  Virgil hesitated and looked down at the kite in their hands before letting it go and lifting it into the air. It lifted high and flapped next to Roman’s. The kites both dipped and twirled together, contrasting against the bright blue sky in their red and gold (Roman’s kite) and purple (Virgil’s).

  “See! It’s fun, isn’t it?”

  Roman looked over at Virgil, who looked back at him. Tentatively they let themself smile, and Roman grinned back at them before looking back up at the kites. He let his go out a bit more so that it floated higher above Virgil’s. He glanced over at Virgil who frowned back at him. He looked back up at the kites and scowled when he saw that Virgil’s was now above his.

  He let his out even more and frowned harder as Virgil’s floated higher.

  They continued like this, trying to best each other and get theirs higher than the other, until they ran out of string and their kites were high in the air, dots high in the sky.

  Then, suddenly, the wind disappeared, and their kites plummeted to the ground. They both ran forward to catch them as they came closer and closer.

  Virgil managed to just catch theirs, holding it close in their arms, but Roman was too close and it landed right on his head before falling onto the grass.

  “Ow!” He complained. “That hurt!”

  He heard Virgil snort and whipped around. “Hey!” He cried, rubbing his head. “Don’t laugh at me!”

  “It couldn’t have hurt that much!” Virgil stifled a giggle. “You were only hit with the cloth part!”

  “No! I was hit with the wooden bit! It hurt loads!”

  “Sure you did.”

  “Oh shut up emo nightmare. How did you even catch it from that high?” He picked up the kite and they headed back to the stand.

  “I’ve had practice catching large things. Patton’s always falling out of trees. He falls out of basically every tree he climbs, and I don’t know why he doesn’t tell me before he does it. Someday I’m not going to be there and he’ll get seriously hurt.”

  They gave the kites back and headed back through the park towards the exit.

  “Hey!” Roman said, pulling out his phone. “You wanna take a selfie?”

  “God, of course you would be one of those people.” Virgil sighed. “Sure, I guess.”

  Roman and Virgil stood next to each other and smiled as Roman took the picture.

  “I’ve always looked bad in photos. I don’t want it.” Virgil told Roman.

  “You sure?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Alright then. I guess that concludes our date.”

  “It wasn’t a date!” Roman couldn’t quite see, but he was sure that Virgil had flushed red under all of the white foundation that they had on. Their ears were certainly red.

  He grinned. “If you say so. I had fun anyway!” He held out his hand and after a moment, Virgil shook it. “Are you getting picked up by someone?”

�� “Yeah, I am. Patton.” Virgil pulled out their own phone. “He should be coming soon. I told him to meet me at the park earlier.”

  “Great! I’ll wait with you.”

  “You really don’t-”

  “I insist!”

  “Um, okay.”

  They stood in awkward silence for a few minutes until a light blue car pulled up to them.

  “Again, it was great seeing you!” Roman called out as Virgil got in.

  “Yeah, it was okay.”

  “Maybe we can meet up some other time?”

  “I’m leaving town tomorrow, so that probably won’t happen.”

  “Oh. Well in that case, bye!”

  “Bye.” Virgil shut the door and the car drove off, leaving Roman standing there on his own.

  A few moments later, Remus’ car pulled up to him and the window closest to Roman lowered, revealing Remus behind the wheel, a gigantic grin on his face.

  “How did it go?” He asked.

  “It went absolutely wonderful!” Roman answered, sitting in shotgun. “I really softened them up!”

  “Ooh! What did you do? Tell me all of the juicy details!”

  “Remus!”

  “What?” Remus said, an innocent look on his face. Roman scrutinised it before moving on.

  “So, we sat in the coffeeshop for a bit, and we each had coffee. They had a small black coffee 

with nothing in it! Absolutely disgusting!”

  “It is not!”

  “Says the man who takes a bit out of the hotel’s soap everytime we go on holidays! Then we went to the park and finished our coffees.”

  “That’s boring! Why didn’t you guys do some fun stuff?”

  “I know exactly what your definition of fun is, Remus! Just let me finish!”

  “Alright, alright! Jeez!”

  “Thank you! And then we rented kites - well, I paid for them - and we flew them! We got into a 

competition of whose could fly higher but they ended up being the same height by the time that we ran out of string. But then… tragedy struck! The wind fell and with it, our kites!” Roman gasped dramatically, placing one hand delicately on his forehead. “They fell straight down and mine landed right on my head, injuring me terribly!”

  Remus, who had been silent for the most part during this description, burst out laughing.

  “It fell on your head!” He managed to say through the laughter. “I wish I had seen that! It would have been hilarious!”

  “Oh shut up!” Roman whacked him gently on the arm. “Keep your eyes on the road!” Remus slowly stopped laughing and Roman continued. “Somehow, they managed to catch theirs perfectly. Said they had experience from catching one of their friends, who apparently can’t climb.

  “Then we returned the kites and waited at the gates while Patton came and picked them up. They’re leaving tomorrow, so they have to pack their stuff I reckon.”

  “But you have their number, right?”

  Roman froze, realizing his idiocy.

  “Oh my god, you didn’t get their number?” Remus grinned. “You know what this means!”

  “That I’m never going to see the one who is clearly the love of my life again?”

  “It means that we’re going to have to combine - me, Logan, Janus and you-”

  “Janus, Logan, you and I.”

  “Whatever! We’re going to have to find them! And if we can’t…” His grin spread, a touch of insanity reaching his eyes. “We’re going on a road trip!”