#and so i accept nothing else because we all know nick would totally do such a thing

[shortpplfedup]

Only Friends Character Rankings Episode 11

The end is nigh! Everybody takes a giant leap of faith in the mother of all transition eps, and we end on several cliffhangers of how those leaps will land Will Ray finally get his threesome? Will Nick agree to be Boston's boyfriend? Will Mew move in with Top? What is the actual factual deal with Boeing? WILL CHEUM GIVE BOSTON THE APOLOGY HE DESERVES? Last week y'all were split on who you were rooting for, with Boston and Boeing tied for your hearts. Here's the runners and riders this week.

🔺1. Nick (2)

I'm not sure I'm ready to be anyone's boyfriend.

So many boys to choose from, that's my baby. I chose Nick as my fighter from jump and that was so the right decision. Baby boy is beating them off with a stick, and committing to nothing and nobody in the process. He might be in love with Boston, but he's actually thinking about what 'in love' means to him, after the mess his 'love' caused. He likes Dan, but won't lead him on. Helping Boston with Atom let him see a version of his own feelings and actions that have made him a bit contemplative it feels like, and I'm curious to see what decisions he actually makes in the finale.

🔺2. Boston (3)

But you might be my exception.

Speaking of contemplation, Boston is definitely calibrating and rethinking some of his basic assumptions about life and people. Atom is an avatar of how and why Boston probably landed on his 'I HATE DRAMA' train, while Nick is an avatar of 'oh, I might have conflated people's feelings with 'drama' when they aren't quite the same thing'. He wants to maybe try monogamy, and you know what, that's his right, and he feels safe to try it with Nick. I have a lot of thoughts about how much Boston must trust Nick to take that leap, even on a short-term/trial basis, and I love the nuance in how this has been written.

🔺3. Yo (and Plug) (10)

I should protect my heart first, shouldn't I?

MOM AND COOL STEPDAD ARE BACK TOGETHER! This has been a very tight runner, but I love it. I love that Plug was able to take a deep breath and swallow his hurt over Yo wanting to protect herself. I love that Yo was able to step outside of herself and take a leap of faith that Plug does love her. Using Yo and Plug as a thematic reinforcer has been effective for me, and I hope we get to see them one last time in the finale.

🔺4. Top (8)

I'm gonna make you love me even more.

Force has been doing a thankless job incredibly well playing Top. When I tell y'all I know Tops, big dick swinging Big Men On Campus, Roc Nation Brunch types, successful on the outside but a total mess within, looking for a saviour, convinced that this One Thing or One Person, if they could just get them, it would mean that they're winners and not the losers they have nightmares about being...and Force is playing that so well. The other thing about these types is that the hole inside they're trying to fill is always an empty space, no matter who or what they try to stuff in there. There will always be a next thing that could save them. I've legit never seen this type portrayed this well on screen, and I look forward to seeing where he lands because he could literally go either way.

🔹5. Sand (5)

Well, someone who's completely my type dumped me for someone else.

YES SAND SPEND THAT MAN'S MONEY THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU ALL ALONG! If he's going to call you a whore whenever he gets mad at you, and you're gonna accept that and forgive him every time, at least reap some goddamn benefits. On the other side of things, we see that Sand's simpness is not confined to Ray; this is just what he's like when he falls for somebody. Boeing reappearing makes that clear. That man cheated and dumped him and he still can't send him packing when he turns up again. 'We can be friends' NO YOU FUCKING CAN'T GUY, THAT MUCH IS OBVIOUS.

🔹6. Mew (6)

You asked for a chance and I gave it to you.

As I said earlier this week, there's nothing wrong with Mew that couldn't be solved by giving him a pair of stilettos and a flogger, and I stand by that. Mew is struggling so hard with the feeling that he has somehow lost, and it's making him lowkey crazy. Top abasing himself and Mew getting to punish him would go a long way to making these two work, if that's what they want. Sometimes kink is 100% the answer to a complicated relationship, and these two are COMPLICATED. So much ego and image is wrapped up in these two's expectations of each other, they are never actually vulnerable, even when performing vulnerability. But one thing kink absolutely requires is vulnerability. I'm voting for Mew to realise his dom desires before the end.

🔹7. Ray (7)

If you say so, then I won't be jealous.

Ray makes a valiant attempt at proper boyfriendism this ep, and it's actually pretty effective...right up until he's faced with the prospect that Sand's squishy centre is more about who Sand is than it is about Ray being extra special somehow. Sand's mom told him: this is how he is with people he cares about. So when somebody Sand clearly cares/cared about, Boeing, shows up, Ray gets a front row seat and he doesn't like the view. How he handles what happens next is gonna tell us whether or not Ray has learned a goddamn thing.

🔻8. Boeing (1)

I just want to be with someone tonight.

There's a definite pattern to the rankings at this point, in that a character hitting the #1 is doomed to take a nosedive in the next ep, and Boeing is no exception. His game remains unclear at this point, but he does give the sense of having had plan A fail and moving on to plan B, taking a not-unrealistic leap of faith that Sand will allow him back into his life. This show has been pretty good about writing real people not cartoon villains, so I'm pretty sure Boeing's got his own human story animating his actions, and I'm curious to find out what it is.

🔺9. Atom (10)

He didn't do anything to me.

Well he apologised and told the truth in the end, even if he had to be threatened to do it, that counts for something...

🔻10. Cheum (9)

What did he do to you this time?

...but if she doesn't apologise for the fucked up things she said to Boston I'm gonna lose it I swear.

[smoulderingocean]

Osblaine Week Day 2: Headcanons

My list is long (though far from exhaustive haha- I could really go on forever), so it's under the cut. May we be blessed with more details in the future so we don't have to keep headcanoning them.

Holly is left-handed, just like her Uncle Josh. Nick is deeply moved by this small connection they share, feeling as if Josh lives on in her.

Nick and Holly's birthdays are both in February and are just a few days apart, with Nick's birthday coming just three days after hers. To him she is the greatest possible gift that he could ever receive. And the closeness of their birthdays has a deeper meaning too- his Mum and Josh had August birthdays that were just a few days apart.

Nick's family couldn't always afford it because money was tight and it was hard to get time off of work, but every couple of years they tried to visit Mackinac Island for a week in August to celebrate those August birthdays. Those handful of summer visits are among Nick's most cherished memories because it was the only time that his family was truly happy.

Growing up Nick was really close to his Mum. She was a very gentle, kind, and sweet person, and raised Nick to be the same. She was the head and heart of their household. When she died the Blaine family fell apart. Nick's father and Josh both struggled to function, falling deep into a pit of depression and spiralling further after they were laid off. Seeing no other alternative, Nick, himself deeply depressed, stepped up and tried to fill her place. He never felt like he was enough, because no one could ever replace his Mum.

Because he took on the head of the household role at a very young age, Nick's natural caretaking personality grew stronger, something that follows him for the rest of his life and is part of why he is such a good partner and father.

June sleeps cold while Nick sleeps hot. One night, very early on into their relationship, Nick wakes and looks over at June. He can tell from her face that she is cold and not entirely able to relax enough to sleep more deeply and get enough rest. So Nick gets out of bed and gathers his spare blanket from his trunk, tucking it carefully around her. After a few minutes, he sees June relax and fall more deeply asleep. When she awakens a couple hours later, very well-rested, she is deeply moved by the simple gesture. A gesture that hadn't been given to her in years. From then on Nick has the extra blanket out for her wrap up in. It's unspoken, but to both of them that blanket belongs to her.

Nick is a night owl while June is a morning person. This dichotomy works really well within their relationship as it allows for balance. In the mornings June wakes up early and goes for her run, then gets the kids up and going while Nick makes breakfast. Then at night Nick puts the kids to bed and stays up later than June to read, listen to music, watch tv, or just sit on the balcony and relax.

June enjoys the mornings because they're a new start, while Nick has a harder time with them because getting everyone up and going and out to where they need to be means they'll be apart for most of the day. Meanwhile Nick enjoys nights more because it's a winding down- the family is together and able to spend some quality moments with each other. At night Nick is most able to take care of everyone; there are no burdens or expectations, just love. The nights are peaceful and calming for him. For June, the nights are challenging because she finds it difficult to wind down- she enjoys being busy and being on the go, and the nighttime family rituals are the opposite. Together, Nick and June manage to balance each other out- June's drive and energy get Nick going in the mornings while Nick's tenderness and unwavering support help June wind down and relax at night.

Together, they sleep really well because they feel safe and so their subconsciouses are able to let go and relax. Without the other they struggle to get enough rest.

Nick is the cuddler of the two and really craves those moments in their relationship. The quiet warmth and comfort means so much to him and it's what he really looks forward to each night because he feels safe and loved.

One of June's favourite things to do is to watch Nick read. She finds it -the glasses and the lips pursed in concentration and the emotions on his face- incredibly sexy and she often finds herself unable to resist temptation and ends up distracting him, which Nick enjoys immensely. Nick also knows that she finds the whole thing erotic and so he puts himself into situations where he knows June will notice just what he's doing.

When they were living at the Waterford house, Nick never had to say that June was welcome to read his books, the acknowledgement that she was free to choose went unspoken between them because Nick knew that she didn't need his permission and June knew that she didn't have to ask; it was a natural thing because his apartment is was close to a home that she had in Gilead (he's her home) and so those books were as much hers as they were his.

In the Boston Globe they finally got to spend a lot of real downtime together. There they found many books, dvds, and cds that had been long-banned, left forgotten in the hastily abandoned office tower. In their free hours together they got to be a normal couple. In those hours they found that they both had an unapologetic love for Harry Potter and they enjoyed getting into enthusiastic debates about the subject. (Also, they both agreed that Nick is a Hufflepuff and June is a Gryffindor.) June loves Friends, while Nick teases her that it was before his time and that he preferred Glee, which June hated because she thought the singing was terrible. Both share a love for boy bands, with Nick's music tastes being more varied than June's and he introduces her to many good songs. Both are avid readers, but June is especially and Nick reads each and every book she hands to him.

Together they learn all sorts of things that accompany a normal, happy relationship; June can't cook worth a damn while Nick is skilled at batch meals like soups, stews, and chili. Nick loves coffee and tea equally (he's especially fond of a good Hong Kong-style milk tea, the kind his mother use to make) while June is exclusively a coffee person. Nick's favourite chore to do is laundry and June is amazed to find out that he'd often take the laundry off of Rita's hands whenever he could as she despised it. Meanwhile June's preferred chore is doing the dishes, because she doesn't contribute by and so she likes to do her bit by washing up.

In the Boston Globe, Nick finds a copy of "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and reads it in its entirety, an action that makes June cry from emotion.

While in the Boston Globe, Nick does everything he can to fulfil June's pregnancy cravings, including trading his valuable illicit liquor for her beloved Twinkies. He loved being able to do that for her because it made her smile and Nick lived for those smiles.

Both Nick and June share a commonality of being bookworms as children, a trait that they pass down onto Holly. Their favourite weekend family activity is a trip to the library.

June was in the 'in' crowd in school while Nick was more of a loner and was very quiet. June ran track and was on the swim team, and was good enough to get a partial scholarship to a good school where she majored in English. Nick never played any sports (though like all good Detroit boys, was a big hockey fan and knows how to skate, and Nick's parents, especially his father, were such big fans that they gave their sons hockey-related middle names- Joshua Gordon [after Gordie Howe] and Nicholas Stanley [after the Stanley Cup]) but he excelled at English and social studies. He couldn't afford to go to university, something that broke his father's heart as he wanted to give Nick the chance to go that he never got. (Josh meanwhile, was very artistic and was particularly good at photography- one of Nick's prized possessions is a print of one of Josh's photos. Like Nick, he couldn't afford to go to school.)

After getting into Canada together after getting Hannah out of Gilead, June and Nick and their family move from Toronto to Kelowna, finding great comfort in the mountains and also appreciating that it helps Hannah recover from what she's lived through as the mountains are comforting and familiar to her.

My biggest crack headcanon is that Nick and June have the same blood type (O+) and it was Nick's blood that was donated to help June after her haemorrhage. Nick volunteered and this action was seen as so good and so 'godly' that it was a small element in pushing Nick further up the ladder. He knew this, but selflessly gave her his blood anyway, because it was the only way he could help.

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (9/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2k words

You weren't a morning person, hell, you weren’t even a person in the morning. Therefore, when you woke up to two kids playing with your hair and jumping on your bed, you wanted to strangle them or shove them on the floor. But again, you loved those little demons so you just groaned loudly, clearly irritated and you decided to keep your eyes closed, hoping that your ignorance will make them leave you alone. You squeezed your eyes shut and didn't open them until you heard a familiar voice chuckling.

“Carol told me you aren't a morning person, but this-” James didn't finish his sentence, his lips breaking into a cheeky grin, and as much annoyed as you were at his teasing, you kind of thought he looked gorgeous. Who looked so gorgeous this early in the morning? A smile made its way to your face and you instantly wiped it off, feigning offense.

“Carol? You're already on a first-name basis with my sister?”

“Aw, don't worry, doll. I'm just trying to be friendly with your family or should I say my future family as your mother reminded me ten minutes ago,” he pestered, moving towards you to hand you the cup of coffee in his hand. Bucky winked teasingly when you accepted it, and you mumbled a ‘thank you’.

That pet name made your stomach do some somersaults and you didn't trust yourself enough to speak. It's not like the first time he called you ‘doll’, in fact, he had been calling you that the moment you started fake dating. But it was something about the way he said it as if the word was made for you and nobody could say that word unless it wasn't voiced by him for you. He didn't notice the flush in your eyes and even if he did, he didn't mention it.

“That’s it. You’re done hanging out with my family,” you articulated, “You are officially infected.” 

“Don’t be like that, doll. Come on, breakfast’s ready.”

At the age of 18, when you were finally a college girl, you decided that breakfast was a myth created by Satan. When you lived with your parents, the breakfast consisted of extravagant food like pancakes, waffles and fruits. Once you moved away for college, your breakfast shifted to coffee and maybe a toast if you had the time before your first lecture. And the second you were independent, coffee became your boyfriend, keeping you up at night and also, your best friend, keeping you up in the morning without dozing off in classes.

So, sitting again at a dining table with your family and fake boyfriend/boss was very awkward, to say the least. But of course, your sister had the magical ability where she took an awkward silence and converted it into an uncomfortable conversation.

“We hope we didn't wake you up last night. Nick and I tend to get loud sometimes,” Carol joked and you coughed, choking on your food, and James laughed awkwardly. 

James' hand instinctively came to your back, running calming circles with his palm and you shot a deathly glare to your sister. 

“Oh, we know all about that,” James teased, bringing your chair closer to him. Your eyes widened and you whipped your head towards him so quickly that your neck hurt. What was he saying? This man, your boyfriend, fake boyfriend was a completely different person than your boss (not that you were complaining). He was funny, charming, he made you feel comfortable and something else you weren’t ready to point out just yet.

You could see yourself falling for a man like James. No, he is your boss and sort of criminal. Get your shit together, you told yourself.

After the very awkward breakfast, thanks to Carol. Your mother told you to show James around town and you would have said no but that meant you’d have to stay at home with your family, which was worse. So when James accepted your offer to go to your favorite burger place nearby, you were relieved.

“This burger is amazing, but nothing compared to Barry’s,” James stated. 

You nodded your head, chewing the remnant of food in your mouth properly before speaking, “Nothing compares to Sally and her food.”

You liked being with James, everything about him made you want this, the real thing with him, not the whole faux boyfriend play. You wanted him and you were sure that he didn’t. One look at him was sufficient for anyone to know how handsome he was, and how oblivious he was to the waitress ogling him. He didn’t spare her a glance, he was probably used to the attention that he stopped caring about it. Of course, if you weren't overthinking at the moment, you would have noticed that he didn't care about anyone else - well, except you. 

“The waitress was totally checking you out,” you informed James. You were very jealous, but you wouldn't stop your crush on your boss to stop him from living his life. He had already sacrificed a lot for you, you didn't want to cock-block him on top of that.

“No, she wasn’t,” he huffed, looking at you for any sign that this conversation displeased you the way it did him.

“I swear she was,” you said, “You should ask her out. She’s cute.”

 “No, I’m taken.”

“But you’re not taken, James. This isn’t real,” you retorted and it hurt you so much to say. Sometimes you wished you could be a selfish bitch but you couldn’t do that to James. He deserves someone who would cherish and love him, not give him a faux relationship. “You should ask her out.”

 “Do you want me to?” James asked, his voice was laced with desperation that you couldn't understand. Why would he care about your opinion?

Bucky hoped that you would say no, he needed a sign to know that you wanted him too. His tone was despondent because he was hoping that this could be more. He really wanted it to be. But when you said yes, everything came shattering down for him. You didn’t want him and God, he was so frustrated that he could cry. What sick game was the universe playing with him? He felt like a rat stuck in a cage with cheese right outside, in front of him. Even though he was so close to you, you were still out of his reach.

“You know what?,” he pondered, “Now that I think about it maybe I should ask her out?”

“Like right now?” you questioned, taken aback by his sudden and unexpected change in demeanor.

“Yeah!” he cheered enthusiastically, “No time like the present, right? You can get home by yourself?”

He didn’t wait for your answer, already walking back towards the restaurant, and you murmured a ‘yeah’ which he didn’t even notice because he was already jogging towards the burger place.

When you reached home alone, tears welled up in your eyes, and you ran up to the bathroom to avoid stumbling upon your family. Maybe you shouldn't have pushed him, maybe if you didn’t then he wouldn’t have pursued the waitress. He wouldn’t have gone if you didn’t shove him towards the cute waitress. Why were you such a good person?

Your thoughts were brought to a halt with frantic knocks on the door. Instantly, you wiped your eyes and opened up the door to be met with your sister’s kids. Izzy and Alex didn’t give you any time before getting a hold of your hand and rushing you outside to help them set up the trampoline.

Your family was already out there, and you hoped your face didn’t say, ’I've been crying in the bathroom.’ Your sister and her husband were seated on a blanket which was spread out on the grass, sipping wine, and your parents were admiring their grandchildren.

“Auntie Y/N!” Alex exclaimed and Izzy added, “Help us fix the trampoline please.”

You agreed because those two were the only people in the world that considered you their friend without asking for anything in return. Moreover, it was a good distraction, if you stayed in a room thinking about James, then you would probably lose your sanity. So, once you started setting up the trampoline for the kids, it became somewhat fun, and you almost forgot all about James, and how he must be talking to that girl and how that girl must be flirting with him. You hoped he didn’t call her doll, you knew you were being unreasonable and immature, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Izzy and Alex made their way towards their parents and whispered something about you being so in love with James that his absence made you angry.

You ignored them and the way your sister smiled, you were so focused on fitting the trampoline spring that you did not realize someone was standing behind you until two strong hands came around you, taking the spring from your hand and attaching it to the corner. 

You knew it was James, no one would touch your hand so gently, any other man would have snatched the spring from your hold and mansplained it’s process to you. But James wasn’t doing that, he wanted to be near you, to have your attention fully that is why he took the spring from you. He didn’t undermine you. No, he desired you to notice him, the guy who has been trying all weekend to get you to like him. He wanted you to see Bucky, not your boss, James.

You could feel his head looming over your shoulder, you dared to crane your neck in his direction to find him already looking at you with a smile on his face. You were so dazed in his eyes that you didn’t notice that he was wearing a white shirt instead of the one he wore in the morning. You did not notice that he didn’t leave you to get the waitress’s number, instead he got a customized shirt that read 'I heart Y/N'. You only noticed him.

Furthermore, you didn’t care about anything else at the moment, just him. Bucky eyed your lips longer than he should have and leaned a bit towards you; a question. You answered his question by closing the distance between you and crashing your lips with his. His hands engulfed around your waist, flushing your back against his chest and he kissed you feverishly. 

The kids were right.

You were in love, and that love was reciprocated by the man who was holding you like you were his archer and kissing you like you were the source of his last breath. But both of you were too unaware to realize that the other felt the same way.

Everyone could see that, your mother looked over at your father and your sister looked at her husband, smiling, reminiscing the way they fell in love just like you and Bucky. The kids looked at you both with hope, aspiring to have a love like that in their future, the kind they saw in movies and in the couples around them.

What you didn't realize was that there was one other set of eyes watching you from a car in the distance. Rumlow finally found his rival's vulnerability, and he was going to do everything in his power to exploit and eventually kill Bucky’s weakness, his love, you. 

TAGS:  @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​ @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @boofy1998​ @marvel-3407​ @mybuck​ @priii​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @ladydmalfoy​ @shaking-a-jar-of-bees 

[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home: Chapter 6

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!) Guest starring Nick Fury and Maria Hill

Summary: Peter works on cracking your shell and Rocket just still doesn't like you. Oh, and Fury pays a surprise visit and you accidentally poison Yondu- Oops!

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: I think I knew from the moment I read this post I knew I needed to include something like it in this fic, especially knowing one of my readers had also suggested somewhere that they thought it'd be cool to see how the Guardians reacted to Terran food lol

Word Count: 5,617

You came back inside through the back door more than half an hour later, having decided to run a quick coat of stain over the bed frame pieces. The sooner you applied the stain, the sooner it would dry, the sooner you could apply the varnish. Not that you were in a hurry or anything... You just got excited over having a project, that's all. You totally weren't stalling on going back in the house, or anything.

Peter was sitting in the kitchen with Gamora. The others had seemingly all dispersed by now.

Peter looked slightly disappointed. "Saved you some cookies."

You were slightly taken back in surprise. "Oh, you didn't need to."

"You bought them, I wasn't just not going to save you a couple." Peter said with an odd look. "Anyway, thought you said you were coming back?"

You grimaced slightly and accepted a biscuit from the package in Peter's outstretched hand. "I did come back... I just got caught up with something."

Peter eyed you for a moment, as if he were considering something. He tilted his head, a slight smirk forming. "Are you shy or something?"

You blinked at him. "What? No-"

"Kinda seems like you are. I mean, before you avoided us because you were all cranky and hated us, but you don't seem nearly as cranky today. Heck you even seemed to almost like us today. So the only reason I can see for you to still be avoiding us is that you're shy."

Gamora raised an eyebrow at him, but after a moment's thought, almost seemed to agree with him and turned her expression to you. She didn't think he really believed you were shy. Rather, she figured he was accusing you of being shy to make you come clean about the real problem. He did similar stuff like this all the time to trick Rocket into talking when something was bothering him. She often wondered where he learned it from, until she witnessed Yondu doing the same to Peter one day after he and Kraglin joined their group.

You shook your head at them. "No. That's absurd."

Peter nudged Gamora in the arm. "That's cute. I think she's shy."

"I'm not shy. That's dumb. My line of work doesn't exactly mix with shy." You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest in annoyance.

"Methinks you protest too much," Peter teased in a sing-song voice.

You narrowed your eyes at him before turning to Gamora. "Is he always like this?"

Gamora half smiled. "Yes... but he might stop if you told us why you keep avoiding everyone."

You sigh. "Look, it's just going to take some time. I'm not trying to avoid anyone, well, not anymore. Just... being around and interacting with a bunch of people is just... not something I'm used to."

"So you are shy." Peter said, his grin almost smug, but mostly teasing.

You sigh in Gamora's direction and she grins sympathetically. "I'm sorry about him."

Before you could respond again you heard a knock at the door.

You looked towards the sound in confusion at who it might be, because you never got visitors. However, you quickly switched to alarm when you realized you had a house full of aliens and no idea who was at the front door. You look out the kitchen window, but you couldn't see a vehicle.

They knocked again.

You turned back to Peter and Gamora. Preferably you'd want to tell them to get everyone to the cellar, but you were concerned on time and knew the curtain was open on the front door window and didn't want to risk whoever it was seeing a bunch of figures fleeing to behind the staircase to the cellar door. You directed Peter to go upstairs and make sure whoever was up there stayed and remained quiet, while you directed Gamora to head into the sitting room, close the door, and do the same while you checked the front door.

Another knock.

You looked at the window of the front door. It was the type of glass where it distorted finer features of subjects, but even with that obstacle, whoever was there seemed to be purposefully standing to the side so they couldn't be seen.

Once Peter and Gamora were out of sight you kept a hand on the knob and tentatively asked, "Who is it?" You eyed the small table by the door where you kept one of your issued guns well hidden. Just in case.

"Fury and Agent Hill. May we come in?" His tone was slightly sarcastic on the second line.

Dammit Fury. You rip the door open. "You ever heard of calling first?"

"No." Fury said flatly, then more sarcastically, "Nice to see you too." He looked around as he entered, seemingly expecting the house to be teeming with more life than it currently seemed. "Where are your charges?"

"I wasn't expecting company. I hid them," you say almost irritably, walking to open the sitting room door, telling those inside that it was alright, it was just Fury. You walk over to the stairs and look up to see Peter peering over the railing and nod to him in a gesture that meant that he and anyone else up there should come downstairs.

When you turn back to Fury he was smiling.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. Of course it was a test, and you complain as much. "Everything's a test with you, isn't it?"

"Not everything," he said. "You should have been expecting us for a weekly check-in."

"You neglected to mention that," you said, slightly embarrassed because you honestly should have expected check-ins even without being told.

"Oh. Must have slipped my mind." Fury said with a wry smile. He knew full well he didn't mention it.

You roll your eyes. "Nothing slips your mind," you confronted, turning now to Maria. She only offered a smile back that clearly said, 'Perhaps if you hadn't been so cranky last time...'

Peter came down the stairs with Mantis, Rocket, and Groot and everyone filed into the sitting room. You caught sight of Kraglin and Rocket again and still had to cover you mouth to fight from laughing before you turned away and tried to keep your face serious. This, of course was much to Kraglin's chagrin and Rocket's annoyance. Yondu noticed and gave Kraglin another strange look, which Kraglin only responded with a shake of his head and an expression that read, 'Please, don't ask.'

Fury spoke when everyone was settled. "This is just a routine check-in. So far your situation has not changed. As expected, NOVA is still trying to make negotiations on your behalf. We're just here to see how everyone is settling in, make sure there are no concerns or problems we need to know about."

"I got a concern," Rocket spoke up.

"If this is about the crib, we don't want to hear it." Maria replied semi-sternly.

Rocket deflated slightly before saying, "I have another concern."

Fury looked unamused, but before he could ask Rocket to elaborate, Rocket was already going into about how you were a dick and how you tossed him outside like a rag doll.

"You were attacking him," you said angrily, gesturing to Kraglin. "Was I just supposed to let you?" Of course the little shit would try to make you look bad to your boss while leaving out the part he played in the situation.

Rocket went on to say that you just had it in for him, and Mantis, who wanted to both try and calm the situation and also defend you, shyly spoke up and said, "Maybe she would like you better if you hadn't tried to poison her?"

Fury and Maria exchanged looks, hers a mix of startled surprise, Fury's one of surprised concern. Surely if there had been an attempt on your life from one of these people, you would have reported it. They turned back, Maria saying, "Excuse me?"

However, she was drowned out by Rocket saying, "That was after!" as if that were a valid defense. "And she wouldn't have died!"

"Yeah, she would have just shit herself half to death. So much better." Peter said sarcastically.

"Why do you care? She bit you!"

This earned raised eyebrows from Fury and Agent Hill. You purposely didn't meet their gaze, embarrassed.

Peter, who felt guilty at the way Rocket was doing you, then stood up for you, "In her defense I did almost break her nose." He caught the expressions of Fury and Agent Hill and added, "We were drunk, it was all just a misunderstanding," as an explanation before realizing he wasn't exactly helping either.

There was more bickering, mostly Rocket saying how much of a dick you were, and others scolding back that Rocket had been the one to start it, then he brought up how instead of helping untangle him and Kraglin you just laughed your ass off, and then others said more things that weren't really helping and everyone was talking over each other while Gamora pinched the bridge of her nose in embarrassed frustration and you rubbed a hand down your face.

"Enough!" Fury said firmly, breaking up the squabbling. "We are not here to listen to petty grievances." He gave the group a stern look. "First off," he looked directly at Rocket, "do not try to poison my agent again. We can just as easily put you in a cell for the duration of your stay on Earth, but I think you'd agree this is a much better venue."

Rocket grumbled something about how'd he'd just escape, but Fury ignored him.

Fury looked at you. "And you- Do try and refrain from getting into fights with your charges." He nodded towards Peter to indicated he specifically meant drunken fights and biting. His tone was as if he was incredulously scolding a child who didn't normally do naughty things, but had suddenly decided to moon traffic. He actually hadn't expected to hear of this behavior from you. You were one of his best agents. He had the humorous thought that this group's dysfunction might be contagious.

You look down and nod. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now does anyone have any real concerns? Is everyone healthy? Anyone gotten sick? Are the food rations sustaining?"

Peter spoke up, afraid that Rocket would start in again. "We're all fine here. Don't listen to Rocket, he's just cranky and still adjusting. She's been a good host."

Fury grinned slightly as he looked at you. "I'd take that as a glowing review, seeing as it came from the man you apparently bit."

You felt your face grow warm and you didn't meet his gaze. You had a feeling he wasn't going to let that go anytime soon.

Mantis spoke up again, now excitedly. "Oh yes! She's been very kind! She gave me this bear!"

Oh geez. Of course she'd bring up the bear. You covered your face for a moment and wondered if she ever put the thing down.

Fury looked at the stuffed toy in amusement. He could tell it wasn't new. It was in nice condition, but worn more than what would happen with a week's worth of use. Meaning, he felt you likely hadn't gone out to buy it, he had a feeling that it more than likely came from inside the house, which, if his suspicions were correct...

"Nice to see you're making friends." he said with humor in his voice, only briefly meeting your gaze before you broke it again.

Fury kept the rest of the visit brief, asking a few more questions before he clapped his hands together and said. "Alright, I believe we're done here. If nobody has any further questions, we'll be seeing you all next week. You know how to contact us if there are any problems-" he turned and gave a pointed look at Rocket, clarifying, "any real problems."

"Same time?" you ask.

"We'll see," replied Fury, turning with Maria towards the door when no one spoke up with any further concerns.

You frowned. Clearly he intended to make the next visit a 'surprise' as well. You probably shouldn't be surprised, but you didn't exactly like the anxiety attack he gave you with this 'surprise visit,' and you weren't looking forward to another one.

Rocket watched Fury and Agent Hill as they left, biting his tongue. He considered shouting out after him that you wanted to put them in chains, but of course he knew that him simply seeing the chains wouldn't be enough proof. If he called you out now, you'd probably just make something up, or maybe you had them hidden so if anyone went to look they wouldn't find them.

No. He couldn't say anything yet. He was going to bide his time. He had a suspicion he might find answers in the attic. Why else would you have told Groot there were monsters up there to keep him out, if there wasn't something you were trying to hide?

He only needed to find time to get up there when no one would notice.

At the door Fury pushed a button on his key fob and his vehicle shimmered into place as the cloaking disengaged. You looked unamused and both Fury and Maria nodded in goodbye as they departed.

You shook your head with a sigh and closed the door.

***

"I think that went well," Maria said as she buckled in. "No one's been killed yet."

Fury let half a chuckle and just looked at her before driving away.

***

Some time after Fury had left and everyone had supper you decided to treat yourself to some reading. You decided to curl up on the armchair, something you hadn't done since the Guardians first arrived. This was because you wanted to, definitely not to prove to Peter, who was sitting with Yondu at the table, that you weren't too shy to stay in the same room with other people without coercion.

You were sat curled in the armchair reading a horror novel when Kraglin walked into the room, catching your attention. Of course, when you saw it was him you were unable to hold back your snickers, though you tried to hide them behind your book.

Kraglin's eyebrows knitted together. "It's not that funny!" he groaned.

Yondu, who was growing more curious and amused asks, "What's so 'not funny' that she laughs every time she sees yer face, boy?"

Kraglin gives him a pitiful look, but before he can open his mouth to again beg him not to ask Peter answers for him, retailing the whole embarrassing story while giggling, to Yondu's delight as he starts laughing right along with Peter once he gets to the part about Rocket getting tied to Kraglin's butt.

This, of course, makes you laugh harder, and you're now shaking behind your book.

Kraglin looks like he wants to die before his expression switches to mischievous. Sure, you said you weren't ticklish the other day when Mantis was trying to make you laugh, but he was sure that was obviously a lie. He also knew from dealing with a bratty Peter through the years just how to teach you a lesson. Kraglin approaches you. "You think that's funny? I've give ya something to laugh at, brat!" he says, lunging for one of your feet and scribbling his fingers over the bottom.

This lasts all of half a second before you let out a high squeak, which is then followed by an "OOF!" by Kraglin when your other foot connects with his ribcage.

"Ow! You kick hard!" Kraglin whined, rubbing his ribs where you had just donkey-kicked him.

You blushed slightly, peering over your book. "Yeah, well... I suppose it's in your best interest if you don't try that again." You try to sound intimidating, but it comes out sounding more squeaky than you'd have liked.

"Yeah, no shit." Kraglin replied, still rubbing his ribs as he walked over to sit on the far end of the couch, as if afraid to sit too close to you now.

You muttered into your book, "I'm not even ticklish."

Kraglin just rolled his eyes at you, picking up the remote to turn on the television.

Peter and Yondu just kept laughing.

***

The next morning the novelty of having encountered Kraglin and Rocket tangled up had mostly worn off. Mostly. You didn't burst out laughing every time you saw them anymore, but Kraglin was still slightly annoyed that you still couldn't glance at him without cracking a smile. If you had just been happy to see him he wouldn't have minded, but because he knew it was only a result of yesterday's incident, it was slightly embarrassing.

However, it did make him feel a little better to tease you and Peter for jumping when the toaster popped.

You were buttering your toast when Yondu pulled a jar from the pantry. "What're these?" He hadn't tried much Terran food yet, aside from the few times you had cooked and when Peter beckoned him to try something, and today he was feeling adventurous. Might as well. He had the feeling they were going to be here awhile.

You look over to see him already opening the jar of pickled jalapeños and your eyes widen slightly. "Those are jalapeños. I recommend trying one if you haven't eaten them before, they're hot."

"They ain't hot, the jar's cool?" Yondu said, spearing three slices of jalapeño on a fork. Whatever it was, he was sure he could take it. It was only Terran food, after all. What's the worst that could happen?

Seeing the oncoming tragedy that was more than likely about to happen in his mouth you tensed, "No, that's not what-"

Too late. He already ate them.

It was maybe five seconds before his mistake hit him. To his credit, he swallowed, but he also immediately closed the jar. "What the hell!?" he said, looking at you as he tried to suck air into his mouth to cool it down. "What the hell are these things?! My damn mouth is on fire!" He wasn't panicking, to your relief, but he also wasn't happy.

Peter laughed at him. He had thought he remembered jalapeños from when he was a kid, his grandpa would put them in his tacos. However, he didn't try to further warn Yondu with you, wanting to see what would happen. He wasn't disappointed even seeing Yondu glare at him for laughing as he sucked air through his teeth and wiped his now running nose on his sleeve.

You look at Yondu half-apologetically. "I tried to warn you! I told you they were hot- I mean spicy, that's why your mouth burns. Um... here..." You pull down a glass and pour him some milk. "This will help."

He eyed it. "What is it?" He thought it looked like the same white liquid Peter and Kraglin would pour into what Peter called cereal, but he had never bothered to ask them what it was.

"Milk." you answered, getting a very strange look from him in return, a mix of 'What the fuck?!' and near disgust.

Peter spoke up from the table. "It's from a cow. It ain't hers, dude. It's fine."

Your eyes widen, scandalized, as you look to Peter. "Excuse me?"

He looks at you apologetically. "Sorry, I know this is normal here, but uh, on most other planets... you won't really find 'milk' ...unless you're uh, feeding a baby."

A high, "Hmmm..." is all you respond, not sure what else to say to the implication that the blue man thought you were somehow offering him your milk. Your eyes were still wide and you could feel your face growing warm at the uncomfortable information but you still offered out the glass, setting it on the counter between you. "Well this is all I have to offer for the burning. Otherwise you're going to have to wait it out." You cross your arms over your chest self-consciously.

Yondu looked like he was considering for a moment, before hesitantly reaching out to take the glass.

"Drink it slow, it will help with the burning." You then add, mildly scolding. "Next time listen."

He grumbled, but took the glass and sat down at the table next to Kraglin to drink it. Kraglin covered his mouth with his fist, trying not to laugh and looking like he wanted to say something, but Yondu glared at him, grumbling. "Not a word."

Kraglin managed to giggle out a, "Yes, sir." before returning his attention to his cereal, a new food Peter introduced to him a couple days ago that actually wasn't half bad.

Everything was fine for about half an hour or so. You finished your toast and had some juice, and the guys had finished their food as well and the four of you sat in the kitchen talking. Well, they were talking, you were mostly sitting and listening, mostly just making an effort to sit for more than five minutes so Peter would stop giving you that look that said, "Ha, knew you were shy," that he had recently taken to giving you.

Then Yondu suddenly bent slightly and held his stomach with a stifled grunt.

You raised an eyebrow, as did the other two. "You ok?" you asked, seeing his pained expression.

Yondu glared then tensed again, grunting out a "Dammit." before pushing his chair back and making his way quickly from the kitchen without another word.

The three of you shared confused glances.

Then you heard the bathroom door loudly close, and not too long after that began to hear loud noises of the... smelly variety.

Peter half-stifled a laugh, saying. "When ya gotta go, ya gotta go, I guess."

You could hear the sound of the toilet flush a bit later, but Yondu didn't return. Instead you started to hear the "smelly" noises again, followed by muffled cursing.

Gamora entered the kitchen, holding her nose. You knew that wasn't a good sign regarding the smell of your hallway, and you were only grateful it hadn't made it into the kitchen yet, though you were now less than eager to leave and risk facing it.

"Is he alright?" she asked Peter.

"He'll be fine." Peter laughed in response, receiving a look from Gamora as she sat next to him, no doubt seeking a reprieve from the odor.

A few minutes passed and he still remained in the jacks, but the smell had its own travel plans.

"Oh hell," you choke out, seemingly the first one of the four of you (aside from Gamora from before) the smell decided to assault. You motioned to Peter. "You- windows- help- please? Now?" you say, gagging as you stood and made your way to open the closest window.

"Right behind you!" Peter said, standing and quickly making to open any window in the kitchen he could find. Kraglin stood with Gamora and they left the kitchen, stating that they were going to open the windows in the sitting room and see if that might help. You could hear gagging from the hallway when they left the kitchen. Peter made his way further down the room and gagged as he opened the back door, a cloud of stink having unfortunately pooled down that way as it was the end closest to the bathroom.

He braved the stink just long enough to shout, "Damn, man! What did you eat!?" He only got a, "Oh, grow up!" in response from Yondu from behind the bathroom door.

You exited the kitchen from the other end to open the front door, coughing as your fears were confirmed and the smell was much worse outside the kitchen. You wondered if you should open the upstairs windows as well.

This thought was confirmed when you could hear the sounds of Mantis gagging at the top of the stairs and Drax asking if an animal had died in the house, then going on to confirm it wasn't Rocket as he was with him and Rocket indignantly yelling, "Hey!"

You made your way upstairs, Peter taking your lead and following to open the windows upstairs to help air the house out.

Yondu had only just exited the bathroom when you came downstairs, not looking too pleased. However, he only made it about a meter outside the door before wincing as a cramp told him he wasn't actually finished and spinning on his heels to return to the toilet.

Now Peter actually seemed mildly concerned. "Dude, you ok in there?" he called from a 'safe' distance from the door, as if anywhere was safe from the smell anymore.

There was only more embarrassing noises in response to Peter's question.

"Yondu?" Peter called out.

"Leave me alone, boy! Can't ya see I'm a little busy at the moment?!"

"I can definitely smell it!" Peter shouted back.

"I'm gonna head outside," you choke out, looking at Gamora. "Care to join?" It was less of an invitation and more of a hint. If you value air, maybe get out of the house.

"Way ahead of you dorks!" Rocket called as he ran out the front door with Groot clinging to his back, gagging.

Everyone else followed out the front door, not willing to risk walking toward the back.

"Fresh air!" Peter cried out once he was outside in such a funny way you couldn't help but chuckle and shake your head despite sharing the same sentiments.

After a couple moments of taking in the fresh air, you decided to walk around back. While you were out here you might as well fix the swing.

"Where you going?" Drax asked after you.

Before you could answer, Peter replied in teasing voice, "She's running away 'cause she's shy." Gamora elbowed him and told him to quit.

You rolled your eyes but didn't turn back, flipping him the bird. "I am not. Knock it off."

"Then you won't mind if we join you then, huh?"

You shrugged as you continued walking. "I don't care what you do." you say flippantly, turning the corner of the house.

Peter grinned mischievously. "Oh! So you won't care if I do this?" He jogged after you and all the others heard was a squeaky yip that likely came from you, Peter crying "Ow!" and you responding with, "Then quit that!"

Drax called out, "Mister Fury said no fighting!" as the rest of them followed after the two of you.

"Then Gamora, please come get your child!" is what response came from around the wall.

Drax gave a confused look to Gamora. "Does she really think Quill could be your child?"

Gamora shook her head. "No, Drax. She's just insulting Peter for acting like a child."

You glared at Peter as he rubbed his arm.

"Did you really need to punch so hard?" he asked, laughter in his voice despite the pain.

"Don't startle me next time." You warn, crossing your arms and turning back to keep walking.

Peter smirked. "Oh sure. 'Startle.' Looked a lot more to me like that tickled."

You look back to him with a glare.

Peter held up his hands in a defensive gesture and laughed, and you saw the others rounding the corner and decided to just walk away and let him live for now. Definitely wasn't because you were slightly worried he might try to prove his theory in front of all the others.

You unlocked the shed, grabbed the items you needed from where you had placed them on the workbench the previous day, and shut the shed door and locked it back up all before the others really got near. You hadn't told anyone about the bed frame yet and you didn't intend to, at least not until it was finished.

You dropped the chains by the old swing and walked back towards the shed to grab the ladder leaning against the back wall so that you could cut the old rope away from the large eye hooks drilled into the branch that had been embedded in the tree so long they were now a permanent fixture.

On your way back with the ladder Kraglin asks, "Whatcha doin'?"

"Fixing the swing," you say, not looking at him as you set up the ladder.

You grab the two lengths of chains and start to ascend the ladder when he speaks again. "Would ya like some help with that? Those chains look heavy."

They weren't. Well, they were heavy enough to support a person, but not heavy enough, or you weak enough, that you couldn't hoist them up the ladder. "I think I can manage," you say, slightly irritated. Last thing you wanted was some "Let the man do the lifting" crap.

"It's just that-"

You look sharply at him, "Just what?"

"Nothin' ma'am." His voice cracked as he spoke and you turned back to carrying the chains back up the ladder.

Rocket, who kept an eye on you the moment he saw the chains, but tried not to make a show of it, came over and stood next to Kraglin, Mantis following close behind.

"Are you fixing the swing?" Mantis asks shyly.

"Yep." you say, clipping one chain to the eye-hook with a locking carabiner.

"I'm sorry I broke it."

You don't look down, reaching up to attach the other chain as you say, "Already told you, wasn't your fault. The rope was old. Don't worry about it."

"Oh, so if she breaks something you'll replace it." Rocket said bitterly.

You climb down the ladder and look at him in annoyance. "There's a difference between the rope snapping on her, and you almost throwing the remote through the TV screen during a tantrum."

"I was not throwing a tantrum!" Rocket said indignantly.

"Close enough. Fighting with Peter over it, better?"

Rocket doesn't answer, just crosses his arms and glares at you before taking off. Truthfully, he was less mad about that and more surprised that he saw the chains were being used to fix the swing instead of being used to tie him or his team up. But this didn't mean you still weren't a dick. Just because he was wrong about this one thing, didn't mean he was wrong about you probably hiding some dark plans or something. He just had to find it. He certainly wasn't grasping at straws or anything just 'cause he didn't like you...

You reach down and pick up the wooden seat of the swing. You cut off the rope still attached to the eye hooks running through the board and repeat the same process to attach the chain as you had above.

When you were finished to turned to Mantis and said, "Wanna try it out?"

She giggled excitedly and nodded before hopping on the swing.

You smile and pick up the scraps of rope you had thankfully tossed out of swing-range and noticed Kraglin was gone. So was your ladder.

You turned to see him returning it back to where you had gotten it from and you called after him, "You didn't need to do that!"

He replied back with, "I know!"

You shook your head and started to walk back towards the shed to toss the scraps in the rubbish bin, wondering how long it might take for the house to be inhabitable again.

Gamora and Peter watched as you had finished repairing the swing and smiled. Peter internally noted that you seemed to have a soft spot for Mantis. Of all of them, her and Groot always seemed to get your softer side, even when it was obvious you were trying not to make it obvious. He grinned, sure that there were some advantages to be had from that.

By the time you had met back up with the rest Yondu could be seen exiting the house from the back door and walking towards the group, no doubt also seeking refuge from the smell.

Peter grinned cheekily and asked, "Everything come out ok?"

Yondu just glared at him before grumpily turning to you. "I think that milk stuff ya gave me went bad."

Peter spoke up, "Inside of you, maybe. Kraglin and I ate it and we're fine."

Kraglin nodded in agreement, saying he felt fine. He then suggested that maybe it was those spicy things he ate that didn't agree with him.

Your eyes widened and you crossed your arms nervously. You remembered how Rocket had attempted to poison you with the xanti-berries, and think you just realized what happened. You had accidentally actually did what Rocket had tried to do to you, to Yondu. You wince and say, "I'm sorry."

Noticing your change in expression, Yondu asks, "What?"

"I'm sorry," you say again, "I didn't even think that the milk might make you sick."

Yondu made a grouchy face but said, "Whatever. Guess I know now."

Rocket, who had been listening in not too far off came up and said, "So when I try to do it to her, I'm an asshole, but when she actually poisons him, everything's just dandy!?"

You narrow your eyes but before you can spout off Yondu speaks up irritably. "If I didn't even know it would happen, how the hell is she supposed to know, Rat?"

"Yeah, she was only tryin' to help him." added Kraglin. "Ain't her fault."

Rocket huffed and skulked away. "Whatever," he said, waving you all off, "Screw you all."

"Ignore him." Peter said, annoyance clear in his voice, and changed the subject to something less likely to piss everyone off.

Eventually you all were able to re-enter the house again without gagging.

[romegaketh]

hello! i'm currently obsessed with "oh lord, it really brings me down" - the whole fic is constructed so nicely and i love the supernatural take on what adam page is going through, as well as the allocations of adam to buck. are there any moments that you wanted to write into it, but ultimately decided not to?

ah, anon, this is so kind! i love that fic very much and am v proud of it: i am thrilled it has managed to also mean something to you. under the cut i will ramble a bit but i also wanted to say i do not bite (unlike adam cole) and i am always thrilled to have people in my dms <3 u are totally welcome to pop in anytime u like <3

firstly cannot let a comment about the structure go without rhapsodising over the efforts of ao3 user eggshellseas who truly saved me!!! i was like "please help me" and she was like "ya, here u go" and then like. it all made sense. her mind!!!! incredible stuff. i am breathlessly, desperately, on tenterhooks (no pressure tho) waiting for her to write some kenny/adam page w gloating vampire adam cole, which is, to me, the platonic ideal of Good Soup.

ok, so. i think the strength of that fic is how strongly anchored it is in nick's point of view. it's a good pov and nick's repression carries a lot of the horror beats because his denial is a solid 1/3 to 1/2 of the creeping unpleasantness in there! like ya adam cole is a vampire eating people but also, what the fuck is up with nick? nothing good, (baybay). however, the exclusivity of nick's pov and his desire to Not See Anything Bad Ever means we really only see a construction of adam that nick is building for himself - until the very end, obviously, when that construction falls apart, and nick is reminded, unpleasantly, that adam is a real person and he has a Real Agenda, he's not just a space upon which nick can localize his ~desire and then avoid it.

the nature of kyle and bobby is a big one i left out, just because nick doesn't care about them! he's not interested! he's interested in if/when they are dangerous to adam/him, but otherwise, he's busy. but i did think about them (and talk about them!). they're not vampires and adam thinks they are in thrall to him because they drink his blood, but they came out on their own and they hang out with adam because they want to. though he probably does have some influence on them, and he wouldn't, like, be totally helpless or without recourse if kyle tried to turn on him. he's got leverage.

i would say the other big one is that nick never makes it explicit that he like, Sexually Desires Adam Cole. and how much adam knows that. (parallel to the depth to which matt desires Adam Page, and the ways in which they have partitioned off desire and allowed it to be separate in that way.) i love repression i think it's very interesting narratively and i think it is an interesting component of the way the bucks present themselves! in this fic the bucks are like pretty carefully tacitly policing each other and allowing like, certain kinds of affection to be made tactile and acceptable whereas other kinds are not. i feel like adam cole knows and thinks it's funny and adam page doesn't know or reads it as something that's a joke about him instead of like, matt sincerely being into him and refusing to accept that about himself.

eggshellseas would probably say how much kenny knows! i think kenny knows a bit more than he's letting on. i like the idea of the bucks thinking of themselves as grandmasters and being super super politicking and proactive, but sometimes they forget that other people are able to move in that way too - the same way they sometimes forget that they're separate people with separate agendas (and separate adams, lmao). kenny i don't think is quite as unaware of whatever it is adam is doing to him as they think: he's also, phantom thread style, comfortable with taking a little damage to make everyone else happy. (especially to let the bucks take care of him. they gotta!!! they love him!!!)

oh also adam is definitely doing a lot of murder. like, they caught him eating a guy one time and that guy was fine? no. he is doing flirt w closeted guys then eat them, and he is doing it En Masse. he's just not doing it at work anymore.

if there's anything in particular you are curious about please feel free to ask! mm, vampires.

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift part 10 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: back to work :( frankie and the boys are sweeties tho

W/C: 1.3k

Warnings: none I think but its late and i'm probably wrong so pls let me know if i need to add some

AN: this is just a quick lil filler chapter before a biiiiig one on either friday or monday, depending on when I finish it, but I wanted to get this one out because part 11 might be late because im very in my Feels about it (and i think you will be too)

Spotify

Part 1 Part 11

Frankie noticed every time your head snapped up, shadowy eyes darting towards the diner door. He noticed how your shoulders would lose some of their tension in relief whenever it was just a group of kids, or an elderly couple, or one of the people he’d come to realise were regulars to the diner.

You wore long sleeves tonight, telling him before leaving that it was to cover the ‘ugly ass’ bruise on your wrist. The less questions the better, you said with a smile that hadn’t reached your eyes.

Frankie carefully organised a stack of choc-chip pancakes on a gleaming white plate and set them on the window. You shot him a confused look – there weren’t any orders.

“You look hungry,” he told. Your face softened as you took the plate and grabbed a set of cutlery. It was nearing 1, and you were always hungry at 1.

“Do you know of any decent not-a-total-rip-off moving companies?” you asked after swallowing a mouthful. Frankie nodded.

“Yeah, me and the boys.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “No. You’ve already done so much I can’t ask you or any of your friends to give up one of their days just to get my shit back.”

“Well, yes you actually can,” Frankie countered, “and if the boys know something is important to me then they’ll help.”

“This is important to you?” Frankie fixed you with a stare and a raise of a brow. The look was one of pure are you serious right now? You threw up your hands and shrugged. “Okay, okay, I get your point. I’ll pay you guys, obviously.”

“Just a case of beer,” Frankie said. Tom might want money, but then against it was unlikely Tom would show up: he was leaving on Thursday. “Listen, just tell me the day you wanna do this and we will be there. I promise you that.”

You finished the pancakes and handed the plate back. “I was gonna let Lou know I wouldn’t be available on Friday night and get it done then.”

“Perfect, three-day weekend,” Frankie grinned. You smiled back, the first true smile he’d seen all night, and turned to greet a trucker who had just arrived.

Frankie grabbed his phone out of his pocket and opened the group text chat.

Catfish: Who’s free Friday for a favour?

Given the time, he wasn’t expecting an answer from any of them, so he was shocked when Benny texted back straight away.

Benny: Whatever it is, William and I are in. Even murder.

Catfish: It’s (probably) not going to come to murder. Just need help moving the girl I work with into her new place.

Pope: oh the 1 youre in love with? yeah ill help and ill bring that photo too

Frankie narrowed his eyes at the screen. He wouldn’t go so far as to say in love, so he decided to ignore that.

Catfish: It’s too expensive to hire moving ppl, so I said I’d help her, plus her ex is a cunt and I don’t know if he’ll try shit if it’s just her there

Pope: is she still there?

Catfish: No she’s staying at mine until she gets her stuff into her new place

Ironhead: Is this the guy you KO’d?

Catfish: Ok 1 why are you all awake? And 2 where did you hear that??? I didn’t KO him btw, but I could have if I felt like it.

Ironhead: I didn’t put my phone on silent

Ironhead: And I heard it from Benjamin. You know he loves gossip.

Benny: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Catfish: ????????? how did you do that?

Benny: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Frankie rolled his eyes and put his phone back in his pocket. They were impossible to talk to at this time of night, and he could already see that the conversation would just go in circles. He would find out how Benny made that weird little face though.

“Hey,” Frankie waved to get your attention, “the boys said they’d be happy to help, and they’ve all got pick-ups so no need to hire a moving truck.”

You looked confused, your eyes darting to the clock. “You spoke to them already?”

“Yeah, they’re light sleepers,” Frankie said. “Old army thing, I guess.”

You cleared your throat and blinked rapidly, “well, uh, let them know I’ll buy them all dinner as well as a case of beer each and money for gas. Whatever they need.” Frankie knew the boys wouldn’t accept your money, but he also knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer. This was something you could sort out Friday, he decided. If he was being honest, he was interested to see how would win that battle of wills. His money was on you. His money would always be on you.

~*~

“Can we go to the store quickly?” You asked, climbing into the truck next to Frankie once your shift was over. You were beginning to think of it as Your Spot now. Your spot, next to him, so close that if you wanted to you could reach out and hold his hand, lean over and kiss him.

“Yeah, what’d you need?” Frankie pulled out of the tiny diner parking lot and onto the road. Your cheeks heated slightly.

“A rotisserie chicken,” you mumbled, staring at one particular spot on the dash. “Sometimes when I’m . . . going through emotional turmoil I just need to eat. And I want a rotisserie chicken more than anything else right now.”

Frankie grinned his white toothed smile and you felt a little better about your habit. “That sounds like a fantastic idea, we should get two, one each.”

You smiled back, buoyed by the idea. The one and only time you had brought this up to Kurt, he had shot the idea down, grabbed your sides and commented on your weight. You knew there was nothing wrong with your weight, that there wasn’t no matter what size you were, but the comment hurt nonetheless.

But now you sat here in Frankie’s truck, and he seemed delighted with the idea of eating a whole rotisserie chicken in one sitting at 8AM. He drove to the grocery store, singing along to Stevie Nick’s Edge of Seventeen.

“I’ll go in, you wait here,” Frankie flashed you with a grin and raced into the store. You sat back, relaxed, and closed your eyes. You had been happier in the past twenty-four hours with Frankie than you had been almost the entirety of Kurt. You found yourself imagining a life with him; dinner at his cosy table, a new record playing every night, talking about your day at whatever jobs you had. Life with him would be comfort, it would be home. Your heart quickened at the thought of laying beside him each night in bed, bodies pressed against each other, skin against skin, delicious warmth -

His return snapped you out of your thoughts, the sight of him sent a rush of heat through you. He held a plastic bag in one hand, and keys in the other. “Should we eat these here or at home?”

Home.

The word sent a shiver of hope up your spine. Like he was saying it could be your home too. You moved an inch closer to him, so your thighs barely touched. It was electric though, the kind of touch that felt dangerous and familiar at the same time.

Your eyes met his and you wondered if he was feeling the same thing.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209 @quica-quica-quica @pintsizemama @phoenix-of-loki

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 16 part one

(Masterpost of All the Recaps)  (Canary’s Pinboard)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes

All righty, this one is going to be a laff riot...not. Let's do it.

The first half of this episode is like a beautifully executed standalone tragedy, while also threading together all sorts of themes and paying off all sorts of relationship building that's happened in the previous episodes. My hat is off to the writers, while I also shake a fist at them for making me cry an unreasonable amount.

We’re Sailing on a Strange Boat

The episode starts right off absolutely DESTROYING me with the Yunmeng brothers holding hands, fingers interlaced, in the first of many hand-touching moments that punctuate the episode.

Jiang Cheng has to be pretty far gone to accept this degree of comfort and tenderness. I think, from their positions, he is also holding Yanli's hand out of the camera's view. 

Zidian finally lets the trio go, and they immediately turn the boat around and head back to Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian gets the clever idea to turn the benches into makeshift oars but nobody gets the clever idea to use magic to push the boat like they do literally every other time they are in a boat. 

Their emotional need to go back to Lotus Pier is understandable, but they are being disobedient and irresponsible by doing it. Jiang Cheng is the future of the clan, and should not risk his life, particularly after his mother chose to sacrifice herself to protect him and after both of his parents told him to go hide with his sister and personal bodyguard brother. 

On the other hand, Jiang Fengmian, as clan leader, probably had a duty to go into hiding himself rather than go home to die romantically, so his authority is questionable at this point. Anyway, this is the Jiang Clan, they get to kind of do what they want, except when that pisses Jiang Cheng off.

Lotus Pier Massacre

Back at Lotus Pier, the Wens are kicking Jiang ass. The fight choreography is pretty good, taking full advantage of walkways, railings, pools, and other features of the environment. 

Using the set this way always makes fights feel more kinetic and real, as opposed to simply sparring in an open area. 

(more after the cut)

Yu Ziyuan is fighting adequately with a sword, having given her preferred weapon to her son.  She's clearly been at it for a while, and is tiring; the Wen soldiers are starting to land more and more sword blows but no critical hits yet.

Wen Zhuliu is kicking ass and possibly melting cores, although we don't see him do it to anybody yet. Later we'll hear from Jiang Cheng that he crushed the cores of his parents, but it's not clear when that happens.

Sixth young master replays Jiang Fengmian's entire archery lesson in his head while he waits, and waits, for Wen Zhuliu to finish strangling a dude the right moment to shoot an arrow at Wen Zhuliu. 

Homicidal tart Wang Lingjiao notices him lining up a shot, strolls over, and stabs him in the back while he's still thinking about what Jiang Fengmian said. One could wish that JFM's archery lessons weren't quite so wordy. 

Wang Linjao normally doesn't carry a sword because of her low spiritual power, but apparently can use one just fine when she's killing kids.

If you start feeling like this episode is unreasonably painful, just think of it as building up calluses so you can handle Yi City when the time comes.

Jiang Fengmian to the Rescue

Jiang Fengmian shows up very far past the nick of time, although he is not actually useful, so it's questionable whether arriving earlier would have helped. But his wife is glad to see him.

Netflix subtitles say that Jiang Fengmian calls Yu Ziyuan "My Lady!" which sounds courtly and romantic in English. His actual words are "San Niangzi" which hunxi-gullai breaks out here.  I might render this as "lady wife!" rather than "my lady" but I don't think English really has a perfect equivalent.

Jiang Fengmian sails across the courtyard, knocking down a few Wen soldiers and becoming a young, slender man in the process.

I mean, come on, that stunt double does not look like a boxy middle-aged man from any angle.

The Dying Bit

The episode splits up the big death scene for dramatic effect but I'm recapping it all together to keep things simple.

Within moments of arriving, Jiang Fengmian gets shanked by Wen Zhuliu like Scatman Crothers in The Shining (or Groundskeeper Willie in The Shinning).

Wen Zhuliu stops a Wen soldier from finishing JFM off, just so that a different Wen soldier can deliver the killing blow from the back, which is kinda harsh. With all this spin-fighting there is probably not an implication of cowardice when someone dies from a stab in the back, but still. Too rude, Wen Zhuliu.

Yu Ziyuan sees Jiang Fengmian fall, and after having a moment of sorrow and despair, she stabs herself in the heart, falls down, crawls to him and interlaces her hand with his. He revives just enough to give her hand a squeeze and say "San Niangzi" one last time before dying. 

She dies next, with a smile on her face at the end. The soundtrack plays that amazing "horribly emotional death scene" music that isn't one of the tracks available on the OST, argh. This same music appears at the end of Xue Yang's story.  

Of the many things I love about the Untamed, the complexity of all the minor characters is possibly my favorite. These two people suck at parenting, and suck at being married, and ultimately suck at protecting and leading their clan, making stupid, selfish choices at every step of the building conflict. 

And then they have this incredibly romantic death scene, in which they both face the inevitability of failure, and find comfort in failing together. Yet their death scene is totally in keeping with who we know them to be, and who they are to each other; the drama doesn't cheat by making them ideal lovers or great people at the end. But they have a great, great moment.

Jiang Yanli, waiting in the woods while her brothers are presumably running toward Lotus Pier, drops her lotus pendant, which is made of the loudest jade ever discovered, and it breaks with a crash.  

Yanli, who is a well educated young lady, knows a moment of doomy symbolism when she sees it.

Jiang Yanli: Who put a giant rock out here in the woods? What are the odds I’d drop my pendant directly on it? 

It’s all Over Except for the Crying, Running and Choking

The brothers climb up on the roof and are shocked to see nothing but Wen soldiers and piled up Jiang corpses... 

...including one child who is either about to become a zombie or who is being played by a young actor who can't control their curiosity, judging by the way this eye is sneakily opened while the camera is running.

There's a moment where Jiang Cheng is saying they must have spared his parents, they must be okay, where Wei Wuxian's face is just...wow. You can see right here the gulf in life experience between these two. 

Wen Zhuliu roams around looking troubled while searching for more people to kill. He’s an interesting villain; someone who believes his loyalty to his boss makes him a good guy, but knows his boss is a bad guy. 

Then we are treated to a hell of a camera move, where it tracks over Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian together on the floor, heroic in death and still holding hands, and then sweeps up to show their killers sitting on the lotus throne. 

The dead couple were at odds for their whole lives together, while the evil people who killed them are acting like devoted lovebirds. It's a stunning shot and a terrific thematic contrast. When Wei Wuxian eventually comes to take his vengeance, he will spend some time turning Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao against each other, before ending them. 

The camera shows us JC's reaction, then shows his mother, then WWX’s reaction, then JF; each reacting to the death of the person who loved them. Some folks may feel that Jiang Fengmian actually did love Jiang Cheng but was just bad at showing it. But Jiang Cheng doesn't think so, and I don't think it's a given that parents love their children.

Side note: Macroexpression king Wang Zhuocheng is able to open his eyes so far that a giant strip of white shows above his irises, and keep them like that, which is quite a trick. Try it yourself.

Meanwhile Wang Lingjiao and Wen Chao gossip about YZY and JFM's bad marriage. Wen Chao admires YZY's beauty, and Wang Lingjiao insults her character, and announces that she's going to stab YZY's body a few extra times. Jiang Cheng briefly faints at this, taking a page from Wei Wuxian's book, and rolls off the roof. 

Run Run Away

Both young men run, and run, and run away from Lotus Pier while Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao mistreat the bodies of Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan 

The stabbing happens off camera, because it's ok to stab a live child on camera, but not a dead adult. (As always, there are cultural reasons for "what's ok" in any country, and I'm not saying anybody's wrong about these choices). 

Wen Chao follows this up with pouring a cup of wine across their faces. He does this in the style of a libation for the dead, but as a desecration, combining mistreatment of bodies with profaning a ceremonial rite. In a world where ghosts are real and have sharp fingernails, this is deeply, deeply stupid.

Yu Ziyuan’s actress Zhang Jingtong is able to have liquid poured INTO HER EAR without flinching. Mad props.

The brothers eventually finish running and arrive in a field with an extreme purple photo filter on it. Which I've done my best to remove for these gifs, with variable results. 

Jiang Cheng wants to turn around and go back to Lotus Pier. He says he wants to retrieve his parents’ bodies and to take revenge, but he's devastated and it seems likely he just wants to die with everyone else.  

Wei Wuxian pleads with Jiang Cheng to calm down and stay safe, while Jiang Cheng gives himself over to anger and shock as the brothers shout at each other.

Punching and running ensues, and Wei Wuxian tries to hold his brother back, grabbing him around the shoulders him in a gesture that painfully echoes the many hugs he's given over the years. 

This time Jiang Cheng doesn't just push him off. He turns around and chokes his brother for nearly a full minute, while screaming at him and blaming him. 

Just as when Madame Yu beat him, Wei Wuxian doesn't fight back; he pulls on Jiang Cheng's wrists but doesn't hit him or try to break his hold.

Finally Jiang Cheng lets him go, and cries out for everyone he's lost, while Wei Wuxian weeps silently next to him. Eventually they fall asleep in the grass together, their bodies curled up in the form of a heart. 

Damn, this episode really brings it.

Side Note: during their argument, Wei Wuxian says, among other things, that "revenge is a dish best served cold," according to subtitles. It's a French saying from the 1800s so it's probably not precisely what Wei Wuxian is saying. More importantly, as a longtime Star Trek fan I can't help but hear James Kirk yelling "KHAN!!!!!" whenever I encounter that phrase.

There’s Got To Be A Morning After

When they wake up in the morning, Jiang Cheng is still in his feelings, but now his feelings have moved along to despair, from anger.

I feel bad for noticing how handsome they both look in this scene. Let's all feel bad about this together.

Jiang Cheng is free to have this level of emotional breakdown because Wei Wuxian is there keeping his own shit together and focusing on what matters.

When Jiang Cheng refuses to get up, Wei Wuxian reminds him, very, very gently, that they have a sister, who has waited all night to know what happened.

At this, Jiang Cheng gets up, but won't look at Wei Wuxian, continuing to blame him for everybody else's actions, as he walks onward to find Yanli.

Wei Wuxian follows, hurt and bereft, as he gets to work internalizing everything that he's being accused of. This is good practice for his future as a widely reviled bogeyman.

Part two will be slightly less awful! Coming soon!

[suchalonelysunflower]

Wedding Bells (l.h)

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Fem!Reader

Summary: The happiest day of your life is the worst day on Luke’s life. Could there still be a happy ending if he’s not too late?

Warnings: angsty. Language and mentions of alcohol. Slander on the name Phillip (sorry to all the Phills but it’s true, look it up) Some grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 4.9 k

Author’s note: let me guide you through my thought process: I was writing You Said Forever and accidentally got caught up on the Olivia x Joshua x sabrina drama, that lead me to the Miley x Nick x Selena drama, which lead me to the song Wedding Bells by Nick Jonas. So this is loosely based on that. Remember that Reblogs, Comments, Feedback and Likes are very important and welcomed, you don’t know how much it helps and I love to hear from you guys ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading ✨🦋🌻

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

His head was pounding, loudly.

Every beat sounded like an echo that ran through his whole body. Speaking of his body, goddamn how it hurt, how everything hurts.

His eyelids were closed, eyelashes stuck and tangled with each other, heavy as the sun shined through the window, begging him to get up. His mouth was also dry, he couldn’t figure out if it was because he slept with his mouth open or because he doesn’t remember the last time he drank a drop of water.

He groaned as the pounding in his head continued. A never-ending pain that matched the loud banging on the door.

“Luke! C’mon, we’re going to be late!”

Ashton's voice sounded far away as his mind was not fully awake yet. He didn’t want to be awake yet, maybe not ever again after this day.

If his eyes were awake he would roll them. Couldn’t Ashton understand that he didn’t want to go? He made it fairly obvious for the past few months! He was not going.

Luke hid his head farther in his pillow, trying to avoid any kind of contact with the outside world. But that was almost impossible as soon as he heard Ashton pick on his lock.

That bastard.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to mess with a bloke from the outsides of town?” He said with a teasing tone. Luke knew he was bluffing, his doorknob was messed up since the moment they bought the house, so it was easy to get in if you knew the right tricks with a safety pin - oh the irony of it all.

Luke mumbled something close to a word his mum wouldn’t be proud to hear. But Ashton simply ignored it as he walked towards the windows to open the curtains, letting the sun illuminate the room at its full capacity.

Ashton sighed at the sight of the room. Clothes were thrown out everywhere, the same goes with the hundred liquor and beer bottles and cans that were scattered around the floor. He grabbed the half-empty bottle of vodka that rested on the nightstand and clicked his tongue.

“You bought this yesterday,” He said, totally unimpressed. Luke didn’t answer “C’mon, buddy, up to the shower you go”

Ashton patted Luke’s back, encouraging him to get a move on, but the blonde just brought his sheets over his head and stayed put.

“Luke…”

“Mmnphf” He mumbled.

“What?” Ashton walked to the foot of the bed and grabbed the tall Australian by his legs, pulling him out of his comforter in one swift move that made Luke fall out of the bed with a thud.

“Motherfuck-“ He complained, rubbing on his bumped head, which was still pounding by the way.

“You were saying?” Ashton said with a smirk as he crouched down to be face to face with Luke, the teasing smile quickly fading away because he didn’t like what he saw at all.

The baby blue eyes that once shined with gleam were dull, red, and empty, and probably angry about his interruption. His curly blond was sticking to his forehead and his body language seemed to have given up on keeping him with a straight figure, making him physically close himself up to others.

“I said I’m not going!” His voice was hoarse due to the heavy drinking he’s been doing these past few days. He tried to sound harsh, but Ashton could easily see through his bluff. He was hurting, every part of him.

“Of course you are,” Ashton scoffed.

Luke glared at him “I’m. Not. Going” He said through gritted teeth. The drummer rolled his eyes. He’s had this conversation before and it was always the same speech.

“You are because she wants you there, so you’ll be there” Ashton stated as if that was the only reasonable answer.

Luke closed his eyes, cause he was sure that if he opened them he would punch Ashton in the mouth. Why couldn’t he understand? “I can’t go, Ash”

His voice broke at the end of the pleading, breaking Ashton’s heart in the process. He hated to see him like that; to see him throw away his life so carelessly without asking for or accepting anyone’s help. It’s not like he ignored what was happening, but he was sure this would do good for him; close cycles, help him move on, and that shit. How else could you mend a broken heart?

“And besides,” Luke continued “She doesn’t want me there” The words felt like poison in his mouth, bitter and dry “She invited you guys, you are her friends and I’m just her stupid ex”

That was a lie and he knew that. When the invitations came he made sure to throw his away before he even got to open it. Making the others believe that he wasn’t invited at all. He didn’t even tell them that you were the one who dropped them, him being unlucky enough to answer the door.

“It’s in June,” You said, eyes avoiding him “Hope you can make it”

Whatever words Luke had stuck in his throat stayed there as he swallowed the pain of seeing you standing there, inviting him to see you love someone else. All he could say was “You’ll look beautiful in white”

You practically ran away after that, leaving him alone with the invitations. Just looking at those envelopes hurt more than he could imagine. He knew this day would come eventually, he hoped he would. He just hoped that his name was engraved on paper next to yours.

“Maybe,” Said Ashton with a grin “But if she didn’t want you there then why did she ask me to RSVP for you?” Luke’s eyes widened like plates, he knew Ashton had called his bluff once again “She said you never answer yours so I did it for you. Cause she wants you there, Luke. You were her best friend, too”

Luke groaned and covered his face with his hand “Why did you do that?!” He asked with an exasperated tone, wanting to hate on the drummer but knowing that that was impossible.

“Because you need to go, mate! You can’t leave her hanging like this!”

“And what am I supposed to say?!” He yelled, he was not used to yelling but he was at the ends of his wits ``‘Oh, hey Y/N! A beautiful day isn’t it? Perfect weather to break my heart into a million pieces while you marry another guy and I’m sitting there watching, wishing I was him! I’m happy for you, though I’m really not cause I know it’s been like what? 3 years 5 months and 24 days since we broke up? but I’m still in love with you. Okay have fun?!”’

He grabbed an empty can from the floor and threw it away, hitting the door of his closet. He was beyond furious and frustrated. You were getting married and he can’t do anything to stop it; to stop you.

Ashton sighed, heartbroken by this whole ordeal “You’ve been counting?”

“Ever since that day. It was my greatest mistake and now I’m suffering from it. Karma really is a bitch. Did you know our anniversary is supposed to be in 5 days? And now it’s impossible to ever get her back”

The drummer placed a hand on Luke's shoulder, he wished he could make his pain go away. He’s never seen his friend so heartbroken before and it pained him knowing that there was nothing he could do about it.

“Luke,” He said in a fatherly tone “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. But believe when I tell you she wants you there, she misses you” Luke turned his head towards Ashton, his eyes begging him not to lie “I’m serious, she’s always asking about you but she’s too scared to talk to you thinking that you don’t want to speak to her. She needs you there, man. Not as a bitter ex and to show you she’s moved on, but as a friend. And I know for a fact you can’t say not to her, even when you’re mad”

Luke sighed. Ashton was right. He could never deny you anything, even before you were together and you were just his best friend, you were always his weakness.

He misses you too, every day since you broke up he’s been missing you. And he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to see you at least one last time, given that your last interaction was awkward as hell.

“I can’t go, Ash”

Ashton nodded with a disappointing sigh as he got up from the floor, but before he could walk out the door he heard Luke say “I can’t go because I don’t have a suit!”

Ashton smiled “I got you covered, buddy” And left the room so Luke could take a shower.

*

Ashton’s suit was itchy, but Luke was grateful that he didn’t have to show up in jeans and an old BonJovi shirt.

He was surprised to find out that they were actually on time, although he wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him that Ashton woke him up much earlier than needed to get there on time.

They met with Michael and Calum in the parking lot, they greeted each other and started talking as if Luke’s heart wasn’t about to burst from the anxiety he was feeling.

To show up at a wedding is something; to show up at your ex’s aka the love of your life’s wedding is… unsettling. He understood why his friends didn’t want to make it awkward for him, yet the awkwardness settled at the moment he stepped foot out of the car.

“She’s getting married in a church?” He asked no one in particular.

“Yeah? That’s why we are here, mate” Calum chuckled.

Luke furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. You never wanted to get married in a church or even a chappel. No, if he remembers correctly, your dream wedding was somewhere outdoors; either a park or a forest or even someone’s backyard. You used to say that love was the most beautiful and natural thing in the universe, so it was logical to celebrate something as powerful as a wedding in the eyes of nature, so it all came to be one for love and love can be one for all.

He remembers he laughed at that, not to mock you in any way, but in awe of how beautiful you put it. Everything you said sounded like poetry to him, even if you were just reading a menu in a Chinese restaurant. But now your poetry would belong to someone else, and he only hoped that that someone deserves to hear it.

He doesn’t know the groom, he believes his name was Phill? Or something like that? Ashton always said he was kind of a jerk, but you loved him enough to marry him so maybe he wasn’t that bad. But for Luke he would always be the man that stole you from him.

All three of his friends started walking inside the rustic church and Luke followed, incapable to think about anything else that wasn’t you at that moment.

However, the minute he entered the cold building he knew something was wrong.

The church was filled with people he didn’t know, he assumed they must be from the groom’s side of the family, but he would bet the 35$ Ashton left in his pocket that you didn’t know half of these people either.

You never wanted a big wedding, hell, you didn’t even want a big birthday party, no matter how much Luke insisted on it.

“Those kinds of parties are not for the ones being celebrated!” You told him once “If it was truly important then all you need is your closest friends and your found family. What else is there to love?”

Your words kept repeating themselves inside Luke’s head. What else is there to love? Indeed.

That wasn’t the only thing catching his attention though. With every step he took towards his seat he found out more things out of place, out of you.

For example, the color scheme was terrible and he knows you didn’t pick it, your favorite colors were nowhere to be seen. Then it was the flowers, if there is one thing he never forgot about you were your favorite flowers. You used to fill the house with them saying that they were your little serotonin boosters, he remembers how happy they made you and how one time he nearly bought all the flowers in the shop to surprise you when you were having a bad day. Now he cannot even look at them without thinking of you.

The more steps he took the more flawed this wedding looked. And yes, he knows that sounds bad, especially coming from him. But it was the truth. Not even the music sounded like it would come from you.

The words ‘This is not right’ Kept screaming at the back of his head.

The Y/N he knew would never choose those flowers or those colors or that guest list or that venue, nor the song that was playing over the speakers. She preferred live music over all the rest and, if she would’ve asked, she’d known that all four of them would perform for free on the happiest day of her life, even if it was the crappiest day for him.

If someone were to tell him a year ago that this is how your wedding would look, he would’ve laughed cause this is not like you. This wedding, this… charade of glamour and show.. this wasn’t you. This wasn’t Y/N. And it's supposed to be your day!

He couldn’t understand why you’d choose this? This was so unlike you, unless… unless he never really knew you at all.

And just like that, the sinking feeling of dread came upon him as he tried to figure out who was the person he knew and who are you now? What changed so much to make you lose all that you once were?

What if?

What if he knew how to love you better? He wouldn’t have let you walk away from him. He would’ve fought for you, for the two of you, instead of just giving up like he did.

Luke knew he loved you. Fuck, he still loves you like the first day. And now you are loving somebody else cause he didn’t know how to keep the most beautiful thing he ever had; the most beautiful thing he let die. He messed up, but his biggest fuck up was realizing it and doing nothing about it.

And now it was too late.

“Dude, are you okay?” Michael whispered when he noticed his friend's frown.

Luke nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line “What were you saying?”

Michael smiled with mischief “We were just laughing at how ridiculous Phillip looks. That suit does not suit him at all”

For the first time since he came, he looked over at the altar. Standing there was the so-called Phill you were going to marry. He was talking to his groomsmen and laughing obnoxiously at what seemed like an inappropriate joke. What did you see on that guy?

“Did you know the name Phillip means horse lover?” Said Calum, trying to stiff a laugh with the other two friends.

They were doing their best to keep Luke distracted and he appreciated that. But seeing the groom so unpreoccupied, so chill and uninterested made his blood boil. How could he be so at ease? If it were him, if he had the wonderful chance to marry you, he’d be a ball of anxiety. He’d be wondering just how beautiful you’d look, if you were feeling as nervous as he was, if you were as happy as he was and how he couldn’t wait to marry you… He would do all that because he will know that he is the luckiest man on earth. But that’s not his truth at all.

“I’m going to take a walk”

Neither of them told him that the ceremony was about to start or offered to accompany him. They knew he needed time and they wouldn't pressure him at all. Luke silently thanked them for that.

He walked out of the ceremony hall and started pacing around the halls, quickly getting lost as he tried to ease his mind.

How could he go through this and pretend that he’s okay? He remembered Ashton’s words from this morning and knew that if you wanted him here then he would be here, but that still didn’t make it any easier.

He would go through the ends of the earth for you if you asked him to, but this? This might be the hardest thing he has ever done, second only to let you go.

His curls were getting messy because of all the ruffling he did with his hands. He needed to pull himself together before the ceremony, he needed to seem okay in front of you. He-

The soft cries coming from behind the door caught his attention. They were hushed but they seemed completely broken. Whoever was behind that door must feel just as hopeless as he did.

“Hello?” He said, knocking on the wooden door “Hello, are you okay in there?”

The sniffing sounds stopped “Luke?”

It was quiet, almost like a whisper. But Luke would recognize your voice anywhere, especially after not hearing you say his name for 3 years.

“Y/N?”

The door opened with a click and revealed a supply closet and, inside that supply closet, there was a bride. There you were.

Luke’s breath almost disappeared as you knocked the wind out of his lungs. You looked beautiful. Stunning in your white dress. Magical as your hair was perfectly styled. Breathtaking with your waterproof makeup still intact, although you would look breathtaking without it as well. Ethereal as you looked at him and he realized that all the times that he missed you seemed small at how much he missed you now and how he would miss you all his life.

If there were any other adjectives to describe how you looked, he would take them all out of the dictionary and give them to you in the form of a song. Cause in his eyes there was no other beauty that could compare, that even the sadness in your eyes seemed to compliment your magnificent. And that was something he couldn’t ignore.

Without thinking it twice he took a couple of steps in front of you and cupped your face in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumb as he murmured: “What’s wrong, love?”

Hearing his voice so worried and soft shook something in you, something that you didn’t know you still had but at the same time knew that it would never go away.

More tears started streaming down your eyes as your gaze met his, making you get lost in those baby blue marbles.

“I- I don’t know what I’m doing, Lukey” You confessed in a whisper.

At the sound of his nickname, Luke felt like he could float away in a cloud of happiness. He thought you’ve forgotten. But the look on your face denoted a fear he hoped he’d never got to see again.

Your eyes were puffy red and your cheeks were flushed, not only because of the blush. And your eyes, they were terrified and Luke didn’t know what to do, so he just said.

“You’re getting married today” You didn’t miss the hint of sadness that laced those words. You hoped that could mean something.

You placed your hands on his wrist, holding his hands that were cupping your face and making them stay there. Right now it was the only comfort you got.

“I don’t know if I should-“ You choke out a sob “Luke, I’m scared- I’m so scared”

“Do you love him?” The words pained him, cutting right through his heart. But you and him were here for a reason, and that reason was waiting at the altar.

He secretly prayed that you would say no, that you would beg him to take you away and run away together, maybe elope somewhere far away and not come back to this place ever again.

He saw the hesitation in your eyes and he knew his answer.

“Y/N, I love-“

“There you are!”

Luke closed his eyes in annoyance when he felt his words get stuck in his throat as the stranger’s voice came closer to them. You quickly pulled away from him and that only made his heart break more than it already was.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Said one of the bridesmaids Luke has never seen before, he assumed that it was from the side of the groom as well, just like everything else “The ceremony is about to start, we need to go now!”

She quickly grabbed you by the wrist and practically draged you to the ceremony hall.

You were desperate. Your pleading eyes searched for Luke, begging for him to do something. But what could he do now? His shocking state left him standing right there with his eyes glued to your figure being dragged away somewhere he didn’t know you wanted to be. It all happened so fast that the only thing he could think of was that this might be the last chance he’s got to see you and all he could do was stare into your pretty eyes cloud with fear and tears.

‘Here comes the bride’ started playing through the speakers of the church and Luke clenched his fists to his side. You hated this song.

He went back to his seat minutes after the ceremony started. His three best friends were looking at him with curiosity and a thousand questions in their minds. They knew the minute that they saw you come in that those tears were not of happiness and, judging by Luke’s hard, emotionless face, he had something to do with it.

Throughout the whole ceremony, Luke couldn’t stop staring at you. It was eating him inside the fact that he knew you didn’t want this and yet you were still going through it. He couldn’t understand why. He is losing you right before his eyes and he couldn’t take that.

He knew that the moment you say ‘I do’ would be the moment his soul would die forever.

“Luke?”

He knew something was wrong. He knew it the moment he parked the car in a freaking church and your eyes filled with tears just confirmed it to him.

“Luke, are you okay?” Michael whispered once again, concerned about the white knuckles on his best friend’s fists.

He loves you. He loves you so fucking much and he can’t let you do this.

He won’t let you do this.

“If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace"

“Fuck it,” Luke said before standing up.

In one second, all eyes were on him. He could feel the stares of strangers, the judgy whispers of the families, and even the shit-eating grins from his best friends sitting beside him. But all his attention was on you. On you and your relieved face.

“I object to this union,” He said in a firm voice that overshadowed the murmurs, leaving everyone completely quiet.

He could see your eyes clouding with tears and the way your lips seemed to be saying his name in one breath. That was all he needed to keep going.

Luke took a few steps to the side, walking until he ended up in the middle of the aisle, looking at you and only you.

“Y/N, I love you,” He said, earning a few gasps from the public “I love you since the day I met you, the day I first asked you to be mine, and even on the day I lost you. I was an idiot who didn’t know how to take care of the magic we created and decided that it was best to let it go before it went out of hand. But you, you always believed in magic; you always believed in me and, Y/N that’s why I’m here telling you that I am still in love with you. And that you are making a big mistake here, just like I did when I lost you. But we are still on time to make everything right.

This, however, is not right and you know it. Where are you in all of this? Do they know your favorite flowers or that your favorite song includes a swear word? Do they know the way you take your coffee or your favorite colors? Do they know how much you love to dance, especially when no one is watching?

I know you, baby. I know you enough to say with certainty that this is not what you wanted. I know how much you love rain and how you wish time would stop every time you take a shower so it could last longer. I know that you cry during every movie, even if they have a happy ending because you always believed in them. I know you never want to break someone’s heart so you are willing to take the hurt as long as the other person is okay. I know that my biggest regret is losing you, cause you are the only thing I got right in my life.

You are life, fire, spark, patience, and love. You are the kindest person on earth and you deserve so much more than this world could give. No one deserves you, darling but I would spend the rest of my days trying to.

I’m in love with you Y/N L/N. Please, don’t- don’t marry him”

Luke’s eyes were watery as he swallowed down a sob on the last part of his speech. His eyes never left yours for a second as his body visibly shook with anxiety and fear, waiting for your answer.

You, on the other hand, were smiling through the tears “I love you too, Luke” You said loud enough for all to hear, and Luke felt like he could breathe again, a smile growing wide as he let a few tears roll down his eyes.

You ran down the aisle to his arms, fully sinking into them as you wrapped your arms around his waist. Luke’s chuckle reverberated through his chest as he picked you up and spun you around in your wedding dress, finally putting you down and looking right into your eyes, now clouded with happy tears.

“I told you you were going to look beautiful in white”

He kissed you with all the love he had in his heart. It was honest, pure, and filled with happiness as the two lovers finally reunite, making the entire church erupted in cheers.

The groom, however, didn't share that excitement. He was fuming red as he started walking towards Luke with his groomsmen, calling you derogatory names as he was ready to start a fight.

“Oh, fuck no” Said Calum, walking down to the middle of the aisle along side Ashton and Michael, creating a safe distance between the two of you and the fight that was about to start. Phillip was not happy, but before he could give the first punch Calum’s fist was already on his face, making him tumble back with a bloody nose “Take that horse lover!”

All hell broke loose in the middle of church as punches were thrown carelessly. The three Australians seemed to be winning the fight with ease, beating the asses of your now ex-fiancé and his friends.

The public was too distracted by the fight to notice how you walked away from the aisle as you cheered on your friends to kick their kneecaps. Luke took your hand and pulled you towards him, still laughing as he began tugging on it for you to follow, and so you did.

You ran as fast as you could, leaving everyone behind without a second thought. The only thing in your mind being the love you had for each other and how you won’t take it for granted this time.

“I love you,” He said as you reached the car, placing his hands at the side of your waist and leaning in for a kiss filled with adrenaline “I fucking love you, Y/N”

You wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed him back with all the love you kept from him during all these years “I love you too, Luke. We are meant for forever”

“Forever and beyond”

It was a crazy sight from every point of view. The man with the messy hair and the girl in a wedding dress kissing in the middle of a church parking lot while the guests all peered from the entrance of the building, four of them bleeding through their nose with tears in their black eyes, and three of them with their clothes all messed up and sweaty, smiling triumphantly as they watched their friends live their love again.

With one last kiss, Luke helped you get inside the car and he quickly got to the other side, starting the engine just in time to hear the bells chime. Marking the start of your real happily ever after with the love of your life.

.

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @sarcasticallywitty15 @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @myloverboyash

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic. 

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

[theggning]

Codsworth Is So Underrated, You Guys

ALTERNATE TITLE: Codsworth and the Totally Understated Mindbending Evolution of Artificial Consciousness

I find Codsworth is often the most underrated of the 16 companions in Fallout 4. Your faithful robot butler is among the very first you can recruit and an excellent early-game ally, but he has a few disadvantages in gameplay that mean he’s often sent back to Sanctuary before long. Codsworth is a mid-to-close range fighter only, cannot wear armor or be equipped with weapons. He cannot be healed by stimpak, which makes him a liability if you’re playing on Survival mode. He has no companion quest of his own, so unless you particularly enjoy him there’s not a compelling reason to keep him for a long time. He also becomes recruitable exactly 2 minutes after adorable puppy Best Boy Dogmeat, so he is often (understandably) replaced just as soon as he’s made available.

But there is this great, completely understated facet to Codsworth, so understated that the game does not draw attention to it in any way. And yet, it is a wonderful reflection of many of the themes of Fallout 4 and, I believe, a pretty strong indication of its thesis statement.

Now what in the hell am I talking about?

Like many sci-fi/fantasy universes, the Fallout series is home to many highly-advanced robots. Robots were commonplace before the Great War, and many have survived the bombs intact and in working order. Others have been built or modified by wastelanders to serve various tasks (Percy, Ada.) The most important thing to understand about robots, though, is though they may have vivid personalities programmed in, they are widely accepted to be objects. They are thought of the same way as an appliance, a machine built for a specific purpose and programmed to follow a strict set of protocols.

Many jokes revolve around the relatively rigid intelligence of robots. Pre-War, many were deployed in inappropriate jobs or designed haphazardly (Mister Handies acting as nurses in a hospital, “paramedic” Protectrons with massive deadly tasers for hands, military robots constantly going haywire and erupting in friendly fire.) Others continue to man businesses and play out daily tasks as they were programmed to do over 200 years ago. Most robots are incapable of understanding anything beyond their initial programming, and most pre-War robots are completely unaware that the Great War ever happened.

When the Sole Survivor reunites with Codsworth at the ruins of their home, it seems like he, too, doesn’t understand what’s going on. He talks about tending the (dead) garden, references the (ghoulified) neighbors, and generally acts like the chipper robot butler Sole left behind on their way to Vault 111.

But there is something slightly… off in Codsworth’s dialogue here. Though he acts like the war never happened, he also specifically mentions details that suggest it did:

Player Default: Codsworth! You're still... fully operational?          

Codsworth: {Defiant} Well of course, mum. You can thank the fine engineers at General Atomics for that! At least, you could have. Had they not been... vaporized.

A bit over 210 actually, mum. Give or take a little for the Earth's rotation and some minor dings to the ole' chronometer. That means you're two centuries late for dinner! Ha ha ha. Perhaps I can whip you up a snack? You must be famished.

You've no idea the desperation for human contact one develops over 200 years. {Upset, recalling bad memories of encountering raiders and scavengers. / Disgust} And when you do encounter them? Oh the cruelty! You're either... target practice or... spare parts!

Even stranger, Codsworth mentions details that are plainly made-up (or some kind of delusion):

Codsworth: It's been ages since we've had a proper family activity. Checkers. Or perhaps charades. Shaun does so love that game. Is the lad... with you...?   

Player Default: Codsworth... listen to me carefully... have you seen him? Have you seen Shaun?              

Codsworth: Why, sir had him last, remember? Perhaps he's gone to the Parker residence to arrange a play-date?

(Shaun is an infant. He is too young to play charades or to go to the neighbors for a play-date.)

So at once, Codsworth does and does not acknowledge the war. He does and does not seem to understand what’s happened, and he does and does not seem to follow Sole’s urgency regarding their spouse’s death and Shaun’s kidnapping.

And then, after a speech check, Codsworth finally snaps and breaks down sobbing in despair. Not only does he understand that the war happened, he has developed the ability to get depressed about it. Longing for human contact and with nothing else to do, he’s even developed coping mechanisms to help him try to deal with his loneliness and despair—futilely trying to do his chores and deluding himself into pretending everything is completely normal.

Wait a minute. Sobbing? Despair? Depression? Coping mechanisms and delusions? This Is all pretty sophisticated stuff to be programmed into a robot, and if you spend more time with Codsworth, the reality of what’s happened to him becomes apparent:

Codsworth has evolved beyond his programming. In his 210 lonely years of existence, he has developed emotional reactions and self-awareness far beyond that of most other robots, and, indeed, has basically evolved an artificial consciousness.

“Emergent intelligence” is the theoretical ability of an AI to eventually develop something resembling human thought processes, and it seems that our dear Codsworth has undergone this. Traveling with him, he displays many sophisticated thoughts and behaviors far beyond what most robots are shown to be capable of. He has memories of pre-War time and places, and understands how various locations have changed. He is capable of learning new information and forming opinions on it, gaining his own understanding of the people and factions in the Commonwealth. He can feel happiness, sorrow, fear, disgust. He can anticipate things, predict danger and imagine how people might respond to your actions. The mere he fact he has opinions and a moral code that he applies to you shows he has free will, something even other robot companions don’t (Ada has a personality, but absolutely does not care about your actions.)

He’s also smart enough to make many wry observational jokes, and to lay one hell of a sick burn on you:

{Joking - Found an old bowling alley. / Amused} Fancy a game, mum? Something tells me the bumpers are no longer available.

 Codsworth’s intelligence is even more sophisticated than that. He displays stunning self-awareness, frequently referencing the fact he is a robot and what that means. He is very proud of his background as General Atomics’ finest, and seems pleased with his robot nature and his lot in life. (Unlike Curie, I don’t think Codsworth would ever really want to gain a synth body. He seems quite happy as he is.)

Here he is making reference to still feeling the tug of his programming:

{Seeing an office with chairs arranged in a circle. / Neutral} I've the most incredible urge to rearrange those chairs in a more perfect circle.

Understanding when other robots are restricted by theirs:

A pity. It appears Deezer's programming is too severe to allow for normal conversation. Ah well.

And when they’re actually not:

Codsworth: Greetings, sir. Good to see another robot in town. That chef hat becomes you.

Takahashi: Nan-ni shimasho-ka?

Codsworth: Takahashi you say? I'm Codsworth, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

Takahashi: Nan-ni shimasho-ka?              

Codsworth: Is that so? Well, we both know RobCo is no General Atomics. It's not surprising it failed, shoddy work and all.  {Friendly - trying to cheer up another robot. / Friendly} Chin up, though. Never know when parts may turn up.

 And here’s Galaxy Brain Codsworth ruminating on his own state of being and contemplating his nature:

{Disappointed that he can't be 100% human sometimes. / Sad} It's unfortunate that I lack the proper design to consume liquids. Something about camaraderie over a few drinks is very inviting.            

I suppose if I had the hardware, I'd have the software as well. I'd hate to see how that'd affect my honesty and manner settings.

{Reconsidering what he thought was a good idea. / Thinking} Indeed. Perhaps I should rethink my initial desire.

Hilariously, Codsworth does not seem fully aware of how remarkable his intelligence is. He occasionally says things like “if I had feelings” and “if I could feel things,” indicating that in some ways he still believes he is only a robot and defines himself by what a robot is and does.

But as we can see, our humble robot butler has essentially evolved to become the smartest, most emotionally intelligent and person-like robot in the Commonwealth*, and potentially in the series.

([SIDE NOTE: Other FO4 robots nearing Codsworth’s level of consciousness and developed personality include Captain Ironsides, KLE-O, Whitechapel Charlie, and perhaps Takahashi. Curie is close, but also receives the unfair advantage of being uploaded into a synth body with a human brain. Jezebel also functions off of a human brain. Nick is not a robot, he’s a synth (though he does jokingly refer to himself as one) and also has the advantage of a human brain encoded on his processor.])

Also hilariously, the game basically does not acknowledge Codsworth’s impressive evolution. At all. There is absolutely no direct mention of it in the script. It is all left to ambient dialogue and the player’s own observations. And because so many people overlook Codsworth as a companion, they may not even realize exactly how unique his expanded consciousness is.

Now, you might call this total lack of mention a mistake, an oversight on Bethesda’s part, or that old chestnut “bad writing.” I don’t think it is. I think it’s a deliciously subtle little detail to include in a story about humanity, machines, artificial intelligence, and what makes a person.

Many of the themes of FO4 revolve around synths—distinctly not robots, but androids, artificially created beings with fully organic human bodies. Most of the storyline factions have strong beliefs about synths and the relative humanity thereof. The Institute believes that synths are objects, tools, machines no different from a robot who are only simulating their personalities through programming. The Brotherhood believes synths are monstrous abominations, a danger to humanity itself, technology run amok which needs to be destroyed. The Railroad believes they are people. Not humans, but people, built instead of born, free-thinking beings that deserve to be treated with respect and given rights.

Through quests, dialogue, notes, worldbuilding and other venues, players explore these questions. What makes someone a person? If your personality and memories can be rewritten or programmed, then who are you, really? Where do we draw the line between humans and machines, and how do we decide who belongs where?

Meanwhile, as the player contemplates the nature of personhood and the definition of intelligence, their robot butler quietly evolves into a fully-conscious person on his own, right beside them.

Codsworth is unquestionably a machine, but also unquestionably beyond the appliance he was built to be. Which to some philosophies and players should really beg a few other questions. If a robot can be considered a person, then what makes synths so different? And how many excuses do we have to make to pretend otherwise?

Ya boy Codsworth may not be flashy, or powerful, or kissable. He may not be the most glamorous companion around. But he is a good friend, a beloved member of the family, and above all else, a loyal butler—content to serve, quietly and humbly doing his job where some may never even notice him-- or the fact that he’s casually become his own person and sent generations of roboticists and philosophers spinning in their graves.

[trvelyans-archive]

something to look forward to

mari wiseman x gray black. 4k words.

Is there a piece of popcorn in your hair?

“Mari, are you listening?”

You snap to attention, finally glancing away from the mirror in the bathroom and rolling your eyes. “Yes, Dad, I’m listening,” you reply, holding your phone between your shoulder and your ear while you tug your boots on. “You must not be, though, because I’ve reminded you more than once that it’s only a ten-minute walk to the train station and that I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“I should just come and get you,” Nick says. It’s past midnight now – you had to stay after your shift ended, cleaning up a puddle of Pepsi on the floor that you found accidentally after kneeling down to grab some popcorn from under the seats – and no matter what you say, he insists that you’re going to run into trouble on the way home (even though you have the grumpiest face in the Chicago area – probably all of Illinois – and there’s probably very few people who would approach you because of it without even starting to consider the whole mind-blind thing). “Did you at least bring a hat?”

You pause. “Yes?”

“Mari –“

“Nick, it’s minus ten.” You zip up your jacket and straighten, reaching to grab your phone to make sure it doesn’t topple to the ground while you swing your bag over your shoulder. “That’s nothing.”

“Alright,” he concedes, sensing that you’re not going to budge. “But… call me if you see anyone acting - I don’t know, suspicious, okay?”

“Don’t you worry enough at work?” you ask, reaching for the bathroom door and pulling it open. “Don’t you get tired of it?”

“Button.” You can hear a smile in his voice. “I never get tired of you.”

You nod at the co-worker by the ticket booth as you wander through the lobby, your boots squeaking loudly against the floor. You don’t know how they didn’t dry in the eight hours they spent sitting in your locker – they’re still as wet as they were when you got here earlier today. Well, yesterday, technically.

Jesus, you’re tired. He should be more worried about you falling asleep on the train than he should be about you getting mugged.

Before you push open the front doors of the theatre, you pause and heave a sigh, remembering that he’s still waiting on the other end of the line. “I’ll call you if I see anyone acting suspicious,” you promise, hoping that you sound sincere. And you are sincere – even you don’t want to die by a mugging-gone-wrong. “And once I get on the train.”

“And once you get off the train.”

That gets a laugh out of you – not an entirely frustrated one, either, which is a feat to behold, at this hour and after this much badgering. While he can just tune into your thoughts whenever he wants to hear whether or not they’re ‘ah, that customer sucked’ or ‘ah, I’m being actively murdered’, sometimes – especially now that you’re an adult with a part-time job – he likes to let you pretend that you have some semblance of privacy (even though you really don’t). “Alright, before and after I get on the train,” you repeat. “Anything else?”

“Nope. Be safe, okay, Button?”

“Will do. Bye.”

“Love you,” Nick replies. “Bye.”

The call clicks off before you have a chance to say ‘love you’ back, and after spending thirty seconds deliberating whether or not you want to call him again to do so, you decide against it and brace yourself before pushing out into the night.

Thankfully, it’s snowing outside, and you take a minute to tilt your head back and let the snow hit your face. Most people might complain, but you like the snow. It makes everything in the city look pretty… dreamlike, almost. Still, after breaking yourself out of your reverie, you sigh and stuff your phone in your pocket, regrettably beginning to feel the tips of your nose and ears getting cold already. It’s minus ten, you remind yourself, gritting your teeth and dragging your boot-heavy feet down the sidewalk. And you’ve survived worse. Worse weather, and…

Well, worse.

You sigh a second time like a melodramatic dog that hasn’t yet been fed by its owner and glance up just in time for you to notice a man wandering down the sidewalk towards you. Late forties or so, with a leather jacket and slicked back hair – is he a mobster? He walks like a mobster, at least ones that you’ve seen in movies, and – it’s Chicago. He could very well be a mobster.

Should you call Nick?

You opt not to this time, but tighten your fingers around your phone anyway and hold your breath as he gets closer and closer, close enough that you’d probably be able to pick him out of a line-up if he tries anything, and then, in the span of about two seconds, he walks directly past you without even looking over, leaving you shaking in your boots for more than one reason and sufficiently not-mugged. (No word on whether or not you’re sufficiently not-frostbitten, though.) You’re almost disappointed – do you not look put-together enough to at least try mugging? – and then you remember that going unnoticed by as many people as possible is something you usually like, so you let your phone fall to the bottom of your pocket and keep walking. A little faster, this time, though - just to be safe.

Which is good, because it hasn’t even been a full minute when you hear footsteps behind you – quick, careful footsteps, too close for you to run away from.

Oh, well. It was good while it lasted.

“Mari?”

You frown and turn around – sure enough, Grayson Black is standing behind you, a package of toilet paper stuffed under one arm and a paper grocery bag hanging from his opposite hand, his golden-brown hair tucked beneath what looks like a hand-knit toque.

Great. Just your luck. He looks like he stepped out of a Whole Foods advertisement and you’re wearing a coat that’s about three winters old and smell like stale popcorn that someone put way too much butter on.

“Hey, Gray.” You smile at him, trying to pretend that you hadn’t convinced yourself you were within an inch of imminent death. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh – just walking home from the store.” He frowns. “What are you doing here?”

“Work,” you say, pointing to the theatre down the block. Grayson follows your finger and then sighs.

“Right.” He turns back to you. “Sorry, Nick told me you were working, I was just… surprised to see you out so late.”

“It’s okay,” you reply. It’s not like you have any friends to go clubbing with, so you can understand his confusion. “Uh – okay, well… See you later?”

“Are you going to the station?” he asks. Why is he still frowning?

You nod. “Yeah.”

“I’ll walk you,” Gray offers.

“I – what?” You shake your head. “No, it’s fine.”

“And it’s late.” He takes a step closer, but not close enough to break the unspoken barrier between you. “Besides… Nick will kill me if he finds out we ran into each other and I didn’t walk you.”

Of course he’s only offering for Nick’s sake. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t tell him.”

“Mari.” God, the way he says your name is a prime example of why every girl in Illinois has a poster of him of their bedroom wall. “Can you let me walk you to the train station?”

You stare at him for a second, sticking your tongue against the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling too wide. “Okay, yeah, sure. When you ask so nicely.”

He laughs and moves closer until you walk side-by-side with the usual distance between you, though it feels much bigger tonight – actually, considering his arm is sticking out half a foot farther than it does most of the time because of the package of toilet paper stuck under it, the gap probably is bigger than usual. You glance around at the street while you walk, listening to the crunch of snow under your boots and the gentle hum of passing cars. God, you’d kill to be in a nice, warm car right now – you should’ve taken a cab.

Actually, no, you’re glad you didn’t. You’re probably safer (and happier) on the street with Gray than you are with a potential Ment cab driver.

“So.” You turn to Gray, and he turns to look at you before you even say anything. “Another late night run for Arizona?”

He laughs again, and you try not to let yourself feel too pleased with yourself about it, because he could just be doing it to be polite, right? “No, not this time,” he answers. “Just some… ah… dish soap. I’ve been out for a week, and…” He grimaces, and you get the sense he’d reach up to scratch the back of his head if he had a free hand. “I finally ran out of plastic cutlery tonight after dinner.”

“Mmm… Well, that’s a good reason for a midnight run to the grocery store if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Of course, a couple cans of Arizona just so happened to fall into my basket, and – it would be rude of me to say no...”

“Yeah, yeah, totally.” You smile. “That’d be downright heretical, and Fortitude has a reputation to keep.”

Gray laughs, louder this time, and you feel your smile widen. “Anyway, enough about me,” he says. “How was work?”

“Ah… it was okay.” You shrug absently, feeling his eyes on you while you do (even though he should be looking at the ground so he doesn’t slip on a patch of ice and fall on his ass). “Had to stay late and clean up, which was gross, but… According to Nick, I have some cookies waiting for me when I get home, so that’s nice.”

“Something to look forward to,” Gray agrees, nodding.

As if anything compares to this. 

“Yeah,” you say. “Something to look forward to for sure.”

“Are you getting excited for the Academy?”

You cringe. As thrilled as you were to get accepted into Aeon, the prospect of finally starting there is nowhere near as thrilling. Though it’ll be nice to have classmates that are strictly non-Ments – at least when you’re not working with Sally’s class – the idea of being back in any kind of school isn’t… well, that isn’t something to look forward to. Still… “Yeah, kinda,” you answer. “Not ready to go back to school, I think, but I also don’t want to be scraping gum out from underneath movie theatre seats for the rest of my life.”

He makes a face. “That sounds… gross.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “It is. But I’ve snuck into a couple movies so far and watched them for free, so… it’s an okay trade-off, I think.”

“Sounds like it,” Gray muses. He turns to you. “You’re really not excited to go to Aeon?”

“I said kinda!” you protest.

He smiles. “You shouldn’t be nervous, Mari.”

You’re the one to make a face this time. “Who said I was nervous?”

“No one had to.” He angles his head in your direction like he’s sharing a secret. “I can tell.”

“And Nick told you.”

“Nick… may have mentioned it.”

“I’m not nervous.” You’re lying, of course, because you’re nervous about everything. Right now, only half of your brain is tuned into the conversation because the other half is nervous that you’re going to slip on the ice and break your neck, which would both be not hot and so embarrassing that you’d have to write off your friendship with Gray entirely for the rest of your life and become a full-time hermit whenever he comes over for dinner. “I just… I don’t know…” You kick a block of ice and watch it skitter through the fresh snow in front of you. “I don’t want to disappoint Nick.”

“You could never disappoint him,” Gray responds. “You’re brilliant.”

“Psh. Not even Nick could get away with saying that.”

“He didn’t.” Gray adjusts his grip on the package of toilet paper. “I mean, I’m sure he thinks it. I meant that… I meant that I think you’re brilliant.”

Sure, that could be a really cute compliment Gray gave you, but you’re probably just being too optimistic, right? Like – sure, he’s nice to you and brought flowers to your graduation ceremony and sure, he gave you that cute teddy bear for Christmas and sure, he once brought over a 6-pack of Dr. Pepper for dinner because you were having a bad day and he knows it’s your favourite, but… “Gray,” you sigh. “British people say everything is brilliant.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if his cheeks are pink because of how cold it is out or – well, for other reasons that are so impossible that you don’t let yourself continue that train of thought. “That’s true,” he says. “But I mean it. From the bottom of my heart.”

You don’t know what to say to that, but you don’t say anything. Thankfully, you don’t think Gray seems to mind, because he doesn’t say anything else, either.

There’s a crosswalk coming up, and even though no cars are coming and you could easily get away with some perfectly safe jaywalking, you stop and press the button (ha) anyway and wait for the light to turn, figuring you don’t want to risk it if Gray wants to report anything back to Nick. (Because Nick could very well assume that you jaywalking is something to be grievously concerned about.) Although, on second thought, you’re not sure Gray’s paying very much attention right now – he’s glancing across the street with his eyebrows furrowed, a distant look in his eyes. He must be thinking hard about something, so you elect not to interrupt him.

Now that there’s a lull in conversation, you find your eyelids beginning to flutter. You stayed up late last night after falling down a Wikipedia rabbit hole – that’s why you shouldn’t watch documentaries at three in the morning, you think to yourself - and Nick had to wake you up at noon to make sure that you weren’t late for your shift, so… Yeah, falling asleep on the train sounds like a pretty likely scenario.

Gray shifts his weight back and forth from one foot to the other and once again adjusts his grip on the toilet paper package – as he does, though, it topples out of his grasp and lands perfectly in between your feet with a soft, snowy thump. You bend down to grab it the same time Gray does, of course, because you’re the two most awkward people in the world, and there’s a three-second pause before you finally reach for the toilet paper and scoop it into your arms because it would be too awkward now not to.

“Don’t worry, I can take it,” you say before he can protest. “You have your… uh…” You gesture to his bag. “Hand full, anyway.”

He tries to protest anyway. “Mari, let me –“

“No, it’s okay.” You smile pleasantly at him. “You’re walking me, so I can… you know… take one for the team.”

He deliberates for a second before nodding – you think he might only do that because the crosswalk light has started beeping at you. “Okay,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The snow is starting to lighten up, now – you can see the train station in the distance. It’s still a few blocks away, which means you more than enough time to make a sufficient fool of yourself. (Or perhaps, continuing the theme of the rest of the night, a not-fool of yourself?) “You know, uh, if you think I’m so brilliant…” You’d put air quotes around it if your fingers weren’t too cold. “Maybe we should have a Scrabble rematch soon?”

You, Nick, and Gray ended up playing a round last time Gray came over for dinner, but Nick stopped halfway through because he was getting bored and decided to go try mixing a new drink instead. Usually you would’ve complained – you like to wipe the literal board with him whenever you can – but it was hard to complain when you were sitting across the coffee table from Gray and splitting a plate of cookies like a couple of little kids. (It’s hard not to feel like a kid around Gray – shy and long-limbed and awkward. Like Bambi, but less cute because you’re a human and also, just generally, not cute.) “I still can’t believe you beat me...”

“Is now a bad time to remind you that I was my school’s valedictorian?”

“Yes, it’s a terrible time,” you reply, watching Gray grin out of the corner of your eye. “English was one of my best classes! I’m supposed to be good at Scrabble.”

“Well… maybe you’ll be better during our rematch.”

Okay. Keep it cool, Mari.

It only sort of sounds like you’re arranging a date with the love of your life and he’s not even taking a couple seconds to be weird about it.

“Oh, I will be better,” you say. “That’s a promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Do you work tomorrow?” He sniffles – he must be cold. This is what he gets for wasting his night walking you to the station instead of going back to his nice, warm apartment. “Maybe I could pick you up after your shift and train with you back to your house.”

“Oh, uh –“ You clear your throat. “Yeah, I work tomorrow! I think I get off at six?”

“Okay, great. Just let me know if – erm, that changes or… something.”

“Yeah, I will,” you reply, a little taken aback.

What in the world is happening?

Did you actually get stabbed by that maybe-mobster, and awkwardly making plans to play Scrabble with Grayson Black is your purgatory?

“Uh… I just – I hope I remember to tell Nick,” you comment. “Not that he’s ever bad when you show up on our doorstep unannounced and ask for dinner…”

“I – I don’t ask,” Gray stammers, “he offers before I can even get a word in, and – and I say yes because it would be rude not to!”

“Mmm… sure.” You shake your head fondly. “You’d probably eat Nick’s dinners every night if you could.”

“Yes, but for the company,” he says, smiling. “Not for the dinner.”

“Not entirely for the dinner.”

He laughs. “Alright, you got me. Not entirely for the dinner. But…” Clearing his throat, he adds, “Mostly for the company.”

You can’t exactly disagree. Nick could serve you a plate with nothing more than an uncooked chicken breast on it and you wouldn’t even care as long as Gray was there to get salmonella with you.

You’re nearly at your stop, you realize suddenly. You’re both disappointed and relieved – disappointed because you always hate to leave Gray, but relieved because things have gone too well so far and you’re starting to get suspicious. It’s just like you always say (to yourself) – you’re not lucky. You’re incredibly unlucky. If something is going well, it means that something incredibly unwell is going to happen as soon as possible.

You pause before you reach the stairs to the train platform and turn to Gray to say goodbye.

“Well… here’s my, uh… stop.”

Gray looks at you. “Here it is,” he repeats.

“Thanks for walking me,” you say. He tilts his head, almost in question, but you continue – “You really didn’t have to.”

“Mari.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch carefully as Gray raises a hand like he’s in a trance, reaching out to you like –

Like what?

Is he going to kiss you?

He blinks and the trance breaks, shattering into a thousand little pieces like a snowy sidewalk under a winter boot. “Oh, sorry,” he says softly, and you don’t miss the way he backs up a half-step. Did he really forget about the… well, everything? He never forgets. Gray drops his hand before raising it to his head again, moving it in little circles near his temple. “You have a –“

Following his movements, you reach up, and –

Of fucking course. There was popcorn in your hair the whole time! You make a note to guilt Nick about distracting you when you get home.

“Damn it.” You pull it out of your hair – how did it get so tangled in there? – and toss it onto the ground, hoping that he’s not going to call you out for littering. (Would that even count?) “Thanks.”

“Uh… you’re welcome.” Gray smiles at you again, and though it’s awkward and a little forced, it’s still a Grayson smile. “I should… let you catch your train,” he continues, running his free hand over his head before scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I should let you get back to – uh – doing dishes?”

He nods, laughing. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds right.” With one last lingering look, he smiles a little wider. “Goodnight, Mari. Get home safe.”

You smile back at him, suddenly bashful. “Yeah, you too.”

Should you watch him leave? No, that’s weird, right? You stand under the streetlight and consider it for several seconds before realizing that you’ve watched him for too long already, and then you shake your head, turning to the stairs and bracing yourself to trudge through the snow that’s gathered on top of them (as if you need anything else to be unnecessarily difficult today). The platform is relatively empty when you reach it, save for a couple of teenage girls and a man in a business suit looking entirely out of place at this time of night and at this weather, and you take a seat on a bench, settling in while you wait for the train to come.

You’re much more aware of how cold it is out now that Gray’s gone – even the sweat on your hands feels like it’s going to freeze – so to distract yourself, you look around the platform for something to entertain you. You manage squint at a weird-looking piece of graffiti a few feet away from you when you hear footsteps approaching.

Sure enough, when you turn around –

“Mari,” Gray says. “I’m sorry, I forgot the –“

He points to your lap, where you’ve diligently placed his package of toilet paper.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” you say, picking it up and holding it out to him from one end so he can grab onto the other. “I totally forgot.”

“No, that’s alright, I forgot too,” Gray assures you, because of course he does – when is he ever anything but nice and diplomatic? Once he’s tucked the toilet paper under his arm again, he chuckles to himself and continues, “Alright. Erm… goodnight again, Mari.”

“Goodnight,” you reply.

With the toilet paper returned to him, he gives you a short, stilted wave before he turns and heads for the stairs again. You force yourself to look the other direction, making a mental note not to stare at him whenever he walks away from you.

You make a couple other mental notes on the train home, too, though it’s mostly in an effort to keep yourself awake. You definitely need to get more than four hours of sleep tonight if you have a long shift again tomorrow, especially since Gray’s coming over; you probably shouldn’t wear new jeans to work in case you run (or, more accurately, sit) into any more puddles, and you might as well bring a hat with you next time you leave the house, because there’s a spare sitting on the shoe rack near the door, anyway.

You definitely make a note to double-check your hair for pieces of someone else’s half-chewed popcorn before leaving the theatre from now on, too - then, when you think about the possibility of running into Gray outside work after all of your shifts from now on, you decide that you should probably triple-check, instead.

[shera-dnd]

Cupid’s Kiss

Took me way longer than expected curse the whims of my mental health but the winner of this month’s 3k fic poll is finally here!

In which Carmen and Julia have a lovely totally not date in Paris while in search for two thieves who are certainly also not having a date

if you’d like a chance to get your fic ideas written by me, or just want to support me, you can feel free to donate to my ko-fi (rules over here)

and here is the ao3 link if you’d rather read it over there

also this fic was brought to you thanks to the help of @cantdrawshaw

NOW ON WITH THE FIC

Carmen Sandiego was the best at her job. She had bested trained assassins and killer robots, evaded the world’s most advanced detective agency, and destroyed the largest criminal organization. All in her early twenties.

Yet there was one task she was not prepared to face. One that escaped her skills, both martial and technical. One that she had failed to plan around. One that existed entirely beyond the range of her skills. A foe that she could not beat.

“Come on, Carm,” Zack called, “it can’t be that hard. If even Ivy could score with the girls, you can do it too.”

“Even Ivy?!” His sister replied, furious, “I’ve been with more girls than you, jackass.”

“Guys, guys!” Carmen interrupted, “you’re not helping.”

Mentioning her interest in spending more time with Julia Argent had been the biggest mistake she had made in weeks. This was supposed to be a peaceful day at their old home base, but now here she was.

Her friends were trying so hard to help her and she couldn’t even be mad at how poorly they were doing, because she knew she wouldn’t fare much better were the roles reversed.

“Sorry,” the siblings replied in unison.

“I appreciate the support,” she assured them, “but I’m not trying to ‘score’ with anyone. I just wanna get to know Jules a little better.”

“So this is not a date?” Ivy asked.

“No!” She replied, a little too quickly, “me and Jules aren’t like that. She’s more of a… professional acquaintance. A coworker.”

“Carm,” Zack replied, “we’re coworkers and you’ve never had a bouquet of roses delivered to my door.”

“It was just a thank you for handling all those precious artifacts for me,” she explained, “she’s a hard worker, she deserved it.”

“Sure,” Ivy nodded, unconvinced, “is that why you take time to chat over coffee with her every other caper?”

“Not every moment of our lives has to be a chase, you know?” she countered.

“Or why you keep finding excuses to dance with her?”

“It’s the easiest way to speak privately at those parties without garnering unwanted attention,” she recited as if from a textbook.

“Or why-”

“Cease this!” Shadowsan’s stern voice commanded and the siblings fell silent, “VILE has trained her to never cave under interrogation. You’ll have a better chance extracting information from a rock.”

Carmen smirked at them, proud to have her skills of deflection recognized.

“Do not be so full of yourself,” he added, making Carmen flinch just a bit, “I have taught those lessons for years and I know how to see through them.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she deflected, looking away.

He walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“I have seen the happiness Miss Argent brings you,” he said, “and I wish you the best of luck should you wish to pursue it.”

That meant a lot to Carmen. More than she could really express in words. But after she had been so thoroughly embarrassed by her friends, all she could really say was,

“Not you too.”

She looked up at the smirking siblings and braced herself...

“Hey, Red,” Player’s voice called, just in the nick of time.

“Player!” She jumped to attention and grabbed the laptop from their desk.

“Woah!” he exclaimed, “everything okay, Red?”

Zack and Ivy snickered as they sat by each side of her, so they could see Player.

“I think Carm would rather you sent her on a crazy chase instead of sitting here talking about her crush on Jules,” Ivy teased.

“Well it looks like you might get to do both,” Player replied, to Carmen’s dismay, “look who our cameras just found walking around Paris.”

The screen cut to a video feed of one of ACME’s hidden cameras over the streets of Paris. None of the people on camera seemed particularly conspicuous… until a particular pair walked on screen. Even without their costumes Carmen could always recognize them.

“Tigress and Paper Star,” she noted, “those two can’t be up to any good.”

“Looks like we’ll be going to Paris, eh Carm?” Ivy commented as she playfully nudged her side.

“City of love,” Zack added as he joined the nudging.

Carmen groaned. This was gonna be a rough mission.

Chase had grown a lot over the past few months. His deductive reasoning had vastly improved, his mood was far more amenable, and he actually stopped to listen to Julia nowadays. What hadn’t really improved with time was his overall clumsiness. 

“Miss Argent, I’ll be fine,” his insistence was interrupted by a powerful sneeze, “This is nothing.”

“Agent Devineaux, please,” she pleaded, “you’re in no state to continue this investigation.”

Devineaux had landed himself into his fair share of rivers over the months he had worked for ACME, and it seemed that so many cold baths had finally caught up to his health. Not that he would ever admit to that.

“Nonsense,” he claimed, “I’ll be back in perfect shape by the time we land in Paris.”

The sneeze that followed said otherwise.

“Chase, please,” she asked again, “rest. I can handle this.”

“I refuse to send my partner on a mission by herself.”

“As sweet as your concern is,” she countered, “I doubt I’ll be by myself for long.”

“Ah yes, I’m sure La Femme Rouge will make for good company,” he agreed and she was glad he did, but it sounded like there was more to his words. “Were you anyone else I’d worry this was all a ploy to have some private time with Miss Sandiego.”

She shot him an unamused glare.

“Apologies,” he said almost immediately.

“Accepted,” she sighed, “but I do not appreciate any insinuations as to the nature of me and Miss Sandiego’s relationship. We’re good friends, nothing more.”

“Of course,” he nodded, but Julia could tell he had more to say.

Truly his detective skills have improved considerably as of late. It had become harder and harder for Julia to pass her excitement for those missions as simple passion for her work. Not when she had abandoned that work as soon as it conflicted with her passion for… something else.

Chase was her friend and she knew he’d understand her feelings for Carmen. She was also sure he’d do his best to keep it a secret until she was confident enough to bring these things to light. She trusted him and she didn’t fear anything of the sorts.

What she did fear was Chase trying to wingman for her. Just the thought was enough to fill her with dread. Enough dread to keep her mouth shut about her feelings in the vicinity of Agent Devineaux. Even if it felt bad to hide this from her friend.

Thankfully the Chief chose that exact moment to call her to give her updated information on their targets. 

Now she could just shut off all these awkward feelings and focus on her work.

The Louvre had been an obvious target. The world’s most famous museum, home to thousands of priceless works of art, including the Mona Lisa itself. It was so obvious in fact that VILE had never bothered to consider it.

But VILE was gone now and its escaped students no longer had any faculty to dissuade them from this target.

That’s why Carmen now walked its halls, diligently searching for any security flaws that could be exploited and any sign of the two master thieves on the loose.

She still took time to appreciate the art of course. This was the most famous museum in the world for a reason and she wasn’t gonna let this unique opportunity escape her, even with the evil duo to watch for.

Carmen had her attention split in every possible direction, her mind juggling its many tasks as she wandered hall after hall. Until, that is, she found something that pulled her focus into one singular point.

A shorter woman in a nice fitted suit, standing before one of the statues.

“Jules,” she greeted as she walked up behind her.

“Miss Sandiego,” Julia smiled as she greeted her, utterly unsurprised. She must have been expecting her, “it’s nice to see you here.”

“It’s nice seeing you too,” she replied, “and we went over this before, Carmen is just fine.”

“Carmen,” she said, in a way that warmed Carmen’s heart, “I take it you’ve been enjoying your time in Paris.”

“Hard to go sightseeing while I’ve got work to do, but I’m making do,” she shrugged, “how about you? What caught your attention today?”

Julia turned back to the statue she had been appreciating until then, “Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss.”

Carmen smirked, it was her time to shine.

“Sculpted by Antonio Canova, commissioned by welsh art-collector John Campbell in 1787,” she recited from memory, “its prime version was acquired by the Louvre in 1824 after the death of its previous owner, Joachim Murat.”

“Very impressive,” Julia praised, “I wish my students put half as much time as you do into their research.”

“I’m just good at memorizing trivia,” Carmen shrugged, trying to hide her pride at earning that praise, “I’m sure you know so much more than me on the subject.”

Boy was Carmen right about that. That seemed to have been the cue to send Julia into a long lecture about the neoclassical and romantic periods, as well as an analysis of the sculpture’s mythological origins and the many interpretations of the myth.

Many people would probably find this amount of information unspeakably tedious. But for Carmen, who was always hungry to learn about the world around her (and could never get tired of Jules speaking so enthusiastically,) it was exciting and endearing.

Carmen had realized then that she wanted nothing more than to spend her every waking hour listening to Julia talk on and on about anything she wanted, as long as it was passionate like this. Maybe someday soon.

Right now they had the whole rest of the Louvre to scout.

“Alright, alright, victory is yours,” Carmen playfully interrupted, “I guess you really are the biggest history nerd here.”

“Oh I’m sorry, it seems I got a bit carried away,” Julia cringed in shame. Damn it Sandiego! “I didn’t mean to bore you.”

“You couldn’t bore me if you tried,” Carmen assured her as she placed a hand on her arm, “I mean it. It’s nice hearing you talk.”

“Unfortunately I no longer teach,” she replied, “otherwise I would have given you an open invitation to any of my classes.”

“Well, how about you show me around the place?” she suggested, “we can call this a private lesson.”

At that Julia smiled again, “then I hope your memory is as good as you say it is, Carmen Sandiego, because I’ll be quizzing you at the end of the tour.”

They both laughed as Julia led them along to the next art piece in what was clearly a meticulously planned tour of the museum. Jules kept her teacher face on for all of her little lectures, but as they walked from room to room it felt so simple and casual.

For once Carmen felt like there was no rush and that she could just enjoy her time with someone she cared about. Maybe that was the moment. Her chance to make something out of this and let Julia know how she felt.

“Hey, Jules,” she called, walking a little closer to her.

“Yes?” Julia turned to look at her, she seemed surprised by the sudden closeness, but did not move away from her.

Carmen decided to take that as a good sign.

“This has been really nice, you know?” she tried, her usual confidence failing her, “just spending time with you like this.”

“I guess it was,” she replied with- Wait, was that a blush? No, that had to be wishful thinking.

“Yeah,” she agreed, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck, “and I just feel like-”

It was then that she was rudely reminded of what she was here to do.

“-you have got to be kidding me!”

“What?” Julia jumped a little in surprise.

“5 o’clock, behind you,” Carmen instructed.

She turned to look and there they were. Tall, blonde and scheming, and short, monochromatic and homicidal. The two thieves they were here to catch. Two thieves that had also noticed them.

They both smirked at them for a moment, before Paper Star whispered something into Tigress’s ear and they both bolted in separate directions.

“I go for Tigress, you go for Paper Star,” Carmen ordered as she bolted after her target.

Tigress was the fastest of the two, and the one most likely to pull dirty tricks on them. Unfortunately for her, Carmen was well-versed in all of those tricks, and of course had all her equipment on her. It’s amazing how much she could hide in just a red hoodie.

Soon Tigress had led the both of them out of the main building, ready to make a run for it and disappear into the city. Her mistake though, was going somewhere Carmen could use her grappling hook without worrying about damaging priceless works of art.

She swung after her, quickly closing the distance and knocking her down with a kick to the stomach. Tigress groaned as she forced herself back up, but instead of running again or getting ready to fight Carmen, she simply shouted.

“Come on!”

“Done running around?” Carmen taunted.

“Yeah yeah whatever,” she replied. Well that was unusual, “did you girlfriend catch Paper Star already?”

“What!?” She nearly jumped in surprise, “She’s not- we’re not- that doesn’t matter! You’re going to jail, for good this time.”

“For what?” she replied.

“Trying to steal from the Louvre!”

“Ah yes, because that’s the only reason we’d be enjoying some time together in the city of love,” she mocked and rolled her eyes.

Was she implying what she thought she was implying?

“Aww, babe,” a voice above them called. Paper Star leaned out of a nearby window and openly teased her partner in crime.

Babe?

“She caught you already?” she continued

Tigress groaned again, “not my fault you got easy mode.”

Paper Star jumped down and casually hooked her arms around Tigress’s neck.

“Well I’ve won,” she declared, “now where’s my prize?”

The last thing Carmen expected was for the two of them to kiss right there in front of her, and yet that was exactly what they did.

“I did not need to see that!” She complained.

“You were the one who interrupted our date!” Tigress complained back.

“Do you seriously want me to believe that you two were just spending the evening together in the Louvre as a date?”

“Was that not what you and your little agent were doing too?” Paper Star teased.

Carmen’s reflex was to say no, but… was that what they were doing? They had been walking around, sightseeing, talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company and- oh god Carmen almost confessed to her back there. 

This was her chance to have a proper date with Jules and it got ruined right at the finish line because of a mission that didn’t even exist in the first place!

She would have time to figure all of this out later, right now she had a job to do and two smug assholes to put in their place. Thankfully she already knew just how to do that.

“You’re right, it was very rude of me to interrupt your romantic evening,” Carmen raised her hands in surrender and backed away, “how about you two get back to what you were doing and I can arrest you both tomorrow?”

“What?” Tigress challenged, “no romantic chase over the rooftops of Paris?”

“I’m sure your girlfriend would love that,” Paper Star added.

“Actually I think Julia would rather just have you behind bars,” she shrugged.

Right on cue the ACME’s blue sleep gas finally reached the both of them, making them both drop on the spot. It was kinda cute how they were put to sleep still holding each other. Carmen almost felt bad for arresting them. Almost.

She pulled her grappling hook again and launched herself through the open window above, landing right next to a very proud Julia Argent.

“Two for one,” Carmen praised, “at this rate, pretty soon you won’t be needing my help anymore.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I had my partner down there to keep them in place,” Julia replied playfully. Carmen’s heart skipped a beat at the word ‘partner’, even though she knew she meant it as coworkers.

“Always happy to play distraction for you, Jules,” she played along.

Taking another step forward, Carmen felt her sense of balance completely leave her as she accidentally inhaled some sleep gas fumes. 

She tumbled forward, but before she hit the ground she felt Julia’s arms holding her up. It took her a second to shake away the effects of the gas, and another second to process the position they were in. How Julia was holding her like she had just dipped her in a dance.

For a moment they froze, staring into each other’s eyes as they held onto each other, until finally Julia helped her up again.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Julia apologized as she tried to fix up Carmen’s scuffed clothes.

“It’s fine,” Carmen assured her, “I should’ve been more careful around the sleep gas.”

Still Julia fussed over her, readjusting Carmen’s hoodie as she muttered a few more apologies. It took her a moment to notice just how close they were both standing now. The realization made her jump back a bit on reflex, but still she remained considerably close to Carmen.

She took a moment to collect herself before finally asking, “so uh- you had something you wanted to tell me?”

Carmen sighed in relief. Good to know those two hadn’t completely destroyed her chances.

“I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed our time together today,” she admitted, “before we got interrupted that is.”

Julia gave her a genuine smile that made her heart stop, “I enjoyed our time too. It’s nice to be able to talk about these things outside of work.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, feeling her confidence return bit by bit, “wanna do that again sometime? Maybe over some coffee.”

Jules seemed surprised at first as she caught on to what Carmen meant, but that expression was quickly replaced by a playful smile.

“Carmen Sandiego,” she called, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“Nothing escapes ACME’s best detective,” she joked, “I guess I am.”

“Then I’ll have to ask you to wait a little for my answer,” she asked.

Carmen opened her mouth to say that she was more than fine with waiting however long she needed, but she was frozen mid motion when Julia’s lips met her own. A quick, sweet little peck. 

“I want to finish our first before we plan the second.”

[initiumseries]

Hey! I love your thoughts on bad tv and I’d love to hear a series wrap up on CAOS if you want to make a post about it. If not no worries and thanks for posting your thoughts on the show over the last year. Loved them and love your blog too!

Thank you!! Sure I can totally do a series wrap up, pretty much right now, in response to this ask. 

So, if I had to distill my issues with this series into a few bullet points it would be: 

-plot -world building/continuity -characters

Plot

CAOS struggles with plot, and I think the biggest reason why, is they just seemed to completely lose track of what the hell they were doing lol. Season 1, ends up being the tightest season because the plot was simple: Sabrina’s dark baptism and her leaving her mortal life behind to become one with witchkind. They beat us to death with the Satan stuff, and they cram as much corny imagery as possible in, even if it doesn’t really make sense. 

why are they having class in a hallway? Do witches not use technology? Why is that blackboard so small? Why isn’t this just a normal classroom setting?

Sabrina’s Season 1 character arc is also clear: she decides, fuck the rules, she’s going to straddle both worlds and everyone’s just gonna have to accept it. It’s not good, but it’s clear. S2, 3, 4 get completely lost in all this other weird stuff. Sabrina is actually not her father’s daughter, but Satan’s, and that plotline goes absolutely nowhere when Sabrina conveniently doubles herself (and experiences 0 consequences for it) and rules hell while also staying in Greendale as herself (seriously, it’s not like satan was dying or anything, he was perfectly fine. For what reason did Sabrina need to become Queen? There’s no answer or explanation for that, she just...did. Ok :/).  Father Blackwood goes apeshit and pulls a Jonestown, for no real reason, CAOS starts leaning heavily into this white feminism stuff (for godsake, the coven kills a DEMON, with the fucking pain of childbirth?! Are you SERIOUS??) Then, s3, it’s about losing their powers because Satan is childish and petty, and a new group of spellcasters are out to kill the witches, and Prudence and Ambrose hunting Blackwood. S4, the eldritch terrors, which honestly, make so little sense, I couldn’t even be bothered. Each season, CAOs falls deeper into the trap of trying to up the ante, make the danger BIGGER, WILDER, more insurmountable, while being completely unprepared to stay consistent with their characters/motivations and undercutting their own BIG ideas with stupid, nonsensical solutions (let me trap this all powerful eldritch terror by taking it to a party, proposing and luring it into a magicked dollhouse...wtf?). 

Worldbuilding/Continuity

What I hate most about these writers for Riverdale and CAOS is that they just don’t feel beholden to being consistent in their worldbuilding and continuity. I don’t find anything cool about kids living in houses with old tvs and rotary phones, but then having a cell phones or wearing modern clothes. Historical anachronisms like that should serve a purpose. 

It COULD be interesting if the conceit is that Zelda and Hilda are OLD, so they take comfort in old things like that, but then that should be specific to the Spellman house, and it should be weird. People should take note of it when they’re there, Sabrina should be conscious of it because she grew up in a time where TVs didn’t look like they were stuck in the 50s. But instead, it’s just...a stupid mess of aesthetic anachronisms for no reason other than they can do it and I just find that to be lazier than utilizing those details in an interesting way. 

In season 1, we get a relatively clear idea that the witches have a certain way of life, that bleeds into season 2. It’s still very sloppy; the anti-pope, using satan where we’d use “god”, introducing the feast and other dangerous parts of being a witch, and essentially just doing the opposite of christianity (except for the racism/sexism ofc. That would require too much thinking I guess). But by season 3, essentially the witches’ way of life have been completely turned upside down. And we never...unpack that. There’s no mourning for literal millennia of supposed tradition, there’s no real floundering or struggling. There are apparently no other adults AT ALL in this magical world outside of Blackwood, Zelda and Hilda, so there’s no real way to get a sense of the REALITY of losing their way of life for these witches, or this world. Is it even a world? Or just a handful of people? Lol. What it means to have to choose a new god to pray to, and is there an divisiveness over who? In Harry Potter, the kids’ parents are tangentially involved when they start pulling their kids out of Hogwarts. Do any of these kids’ parents pull them out of the school when they start praying to Lilith and then Hecate? Do any of the boys have issues with moving from a male god to a female one? Where did all these kids come from if they didn’t have parents and families? Is this witch world just...the school? Why? It would have been interesting watching the witches struggle and scramble to regain their powers while also being hunted by this new, threatening group whose magic seems to be much older, much darker. But instead, they just pivot, and have a fucking picnic before the full moon. 

There’s nothing interesting about characters just constantly pivoting around obstacles without having any real emotional reaction, any real struggles. Obstacles like losing their powers, should be an actual obstacle. They should struggle, there should be emotional weight, and consequences. Instead, Sabrina continues to break rules to suit her agenda, put her friends and family and risk and everyone just...rolls with it. No one is angry at Sabrina for the loss of their powers? Her choice to not become Queen of hell is why they lost their powers right? No one has feelings about that? Sabrina isn’t ostracized? We never see the way these choices, or the overarching plot obstacles impact the characters emotionally. Instead, they’re doing this stuff:

Which is completely ridiculous to me. It all just...HAPPENS. Which is this entire series. Stuff happens, and the characters just, do stuff in reaction to it. Harvey, Theo and Roz are ostensibly human, living human lives. They end up getting pulled into Sabrina’s world, and no one has any strong feelings about that? Harvey’s brother is killed, Roz is turned to stone and Theo talks to his dead great aunt and none of them are haunted by any of that? No? They just decide to create a faux scooby club to fight demons?  Ok. And that cheerleading things is over as quickly as we see it. Stuff like this is insanely frustrating to watch because it makes the show a nonsensical slog to sit through. There’s nothing interesting or engaging to latch onto because they just hammer through it all and make up stupid solutions to get themselves out of the impossible stakes they threw the characters in in the first place. They introduce ideas and discard them just as quickly. An ex:angels show up, start killing people, Sabrina channels satan and kills them, and then that’s the last of those guys. Metatron (jfc even the name is stupid) shows up and is killed just as quickly.  Why bother introducing them then? Why bother do any of the things you’re currently doing in this show if you have no intention of seeing it through? 

Characters 

No one on this show gels, at all.  I don’t believe Theo/Roz/Harvey/Sabrina have been friends for ages. I don’t believe Sabrina and Nick are “end game” (why the hell do we keep saying this riverdale? It’s stupid and senseless). I don’t believe any of these relationships at all. Part of this is because the cast have no chemistry with each other:

they do not look like a friend group or couples at all, these are a bunch of people paired together.

But also because they weren’t consistent at all. 

Father Blackwood went from a witch/warlock purist, to a raging sexist, to a cult leader who killed his followers, to a raging maniac bent on hitler-esque destruction in 4 seasons...for nothing. It served no purpose. He didn’t even DO anything. He was nice to the Eldritch Terrors, and became immortal...for nothing. He killed the coven, for nothing. He killed his wife in childbirth, for nothing. Zelda stole the baby, for nothing. None of that amounted to anything worth while in the entire series. So what was the point?  Zelda marrying Faustus also made no sense and only happened to show JUST how sexist he was! But why? WHY? We don’t receive explanations for character behaviour, and when we do, it still makes no sense. 

Sabrina breaks all these rules and experiences ZERO consequences. At all times, and it makes her a terrible main character. Everyone else abides by the rules but she doesn’t and doesn’t have to pay for that? Why? She straddles both worlds instead of committing to one, and that was the closest we got to seeing consequences for her. Everyone rushes in to help Sabrina break rules instead of holding her accountable for feeling above them. Sabrina creates 2 versions of herself, and they sloppily tie in that all the realms are converging in on each other because of what she did. Except she and Sabrina Morningstar had been hanging out...ostensibly for days/weeks/months (who knows? Not this show!) before we saw any potential issues, and then we end up finding out that this is about the next eldritch terror, not about Sabrina existing as a double in 1 universe. People get upset for a second and then move on to help her. So why have rules in this world at all if it means nothing to break them? 

Nick goes through literal hell, and immediately cheats on Sabrina because of how a man made of clay looked at her. That’s laughable to me. It makes no narrative sense. Their relationship doesn’t even make sense.

Roz and Harvey spend 90% of their time almost fucking. It’s bizarre. Their getting together was random and every single scene with them alone in it is like a precursor to fucking and I don’t get why. This show does not grasp how to build up relationships. Also do these kids not have parents? Theo and Harvey stay having constant sleepovers with their respective partners, in their parents’ houses? Really? At seventeen? Lol k. 

I feel like, if CAOS were better thought out, it could have actually been interesting. But it was just a smorgasbord of stuff happening, and characters doing stuff, and none of that following in any real narrative way. Storytelling has structure for a reason, and a show with a good story structure usually yields an enjoyable watching experience. CAOS is a pretty strong example of how throwing that out and relying so heavily on aesthetics and still taking the show so seriously it’s not even fun terrible, gets you nowhere. Ultimately I’m glad it’s over.

[baroquespiral]

What Is True Will?

François Rabelais was the first to distill a central tenet of the spirit of the nascent Enlightenment, or modernity, to the phrase “do as thou wilt”.  The transformations of this phrase across the centuries have tracked the historical development of its spirit.  Rabelais himself qualified it with the unwieldy, and today obviously questionable, justification “because men that are free, well-born, well-bred, and conversant in honest companies, have naturally an instinct and spur that prompteth them unto virtuous actions, and withdraws them from vice, which is called honour.” Aleister Crowley, the spiritual High Modernist, stripped it down and granted it absolute authority: “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.” But today it might be best known - and most widely followed - in another qualified form: as the Wiccan rede, improvised in 1964 by Doreen Valiente: “an ye harm none, do as ye will”. Despite having recently gotten into Crowley - or perhaps because I’ve recently gotten into Crowley, and with the skepticism about higher-level moral and metaphysical beliefs that comes from those having changed several times in my life - I try to err on the side of doing my True Will within Valiente’s guardrail.  But I am into Crowley, in part because his version seems to make for a more elegant solution to Valiente’s own problem.  Think of “an ye harm none, do as ye will” as a Law of Robotics, an attempt to solve the AI alignment problem.  (Think of all morality, or at least modern morality, this way!)  It’s far from the worst one out there.  “If your utility function is to maximize paperclips, make as many paperclips as you want unless it means disassembling any sentient life forms or the resources they need to survive.” Simple, right? Well, except that it doesn’t really define what “harm” is.  Who can be “harmed”, and what actions constitute this?  Is mining an asteroid for paperclips “harming” it?  Why not, other than from the perspective of other sentient beings with a particular conception of sentience whose will places a value on it?  Is telling a paperclip maximizer to stop maximizing paperclips, even at an eminently reasonable point, harming it?  Why not, other than from the perspective of those same sentient beings who are capable of choosing between multiple values and have evolved to co-operate by respecting those choices?  “An it harm none” is less obvious of a nakedly self-interested double standard than “A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm”, but it’s still a Human Security System.  At least, that’s certainly what Nick Land would say. But when Crowley takes off the “an it harm none” guardrail (or Rabelais’ “free, well-born and well-bred” one), he does so with his own invisible qualification: he’s not talking about boring predetermined wills like following a set of self-imposed religious "values”, perpetuating your DNA or even maximizing paperclips.  He’s talking about one’s True Will, a will it takes a lifetime process to discover, a process that consists in large part of divesting oneself of all traces of ego, even of preference.  It is “pure will, unassuaged of purpose, delivered from the lust of result”, that is “in every way perfect”.  At points he implies that no two True Wills will ever come into conflict; all are part of the ideal functioning of the universe as a perfect ordered system; but to an extent this is tautological, as any conflict is not a conflict insofar as it is truly Willed by both parties, who are presumably equally Willing to accept the outcomes, even if destructive to their “selves”.  It’s not unlike Buddhism except with the implication that even once we’ve reached Enlightenment there is still something that will work through us and make us do things other than sit and meditate - the kind of active Buddhism that is the moral subtext of a lot of anime.  I’ve always, instinctively, found it hard to overly worry about paperclip maximizers because I’ve always assumed that any AI complex enough to tile the universe would be complex enough to be aware of its own motivations, question them, question not only whether it should harm others but whether its True Will is to maximize paperclips. And to be perfectly Landian about it, maybe it is - all the better.  An entity incapable of acting other than in a certain way is already doing its True Will in the sense that “The order of Nature provides a orbit for each star”.  It may be our True Will to alter this course or not. This would be all well and good if there was any reason to believe there is a divine Will that persists in all things even after they abandon all preferences and illusions of selfhood.   Just last week - and right after a session with my therapist where I was talking about willpower, too (Crowley considers synchronicities like this vital in uncovering your True Will) - I happened upon Scott Alexander’s new article about willpower, which breaks the whole thing down to competing neural processes auctioning dopamine to the basal ganglia. There’s nothing special about any of these except how much dopamine they pump out, and no particular relationship or continuity between the ones that do.  Alexander seems to treat the “rational” ones as representing our “true” Will, reproducing another one of modernity’s classic modifications to the maxim - do as thou wilt, an it be rational.   Of course I could just stop and take it as an unfalsifiable article of faith that a metaphysical Will exists, all such physical evidence aside, but Crowley himself probably wouldn’t want me to do that: the Book of the Law promises “in life, not faith, certainty”.  It’s possible to shrink the metaphysical implications of the concept considerably; by stating that ego represents a specific process, or set of mental processes, that Crowley sees as purely entropic, a lag and occasional interference in the dopamine competition, and which can be removed through specific practices.  This doesn’t guarantee that the True Will resulting when it’s subtracted would be particularly rational or compatible with anything else’s True Will, except, again, insofar as the question is tautological.  It doesn’t necessarily mean throwing out “an it harm none” - the ego processes might not be especially good at averting harm - but it would have to be separately appended.  (And if you read like, Chapter III of the Book of the Law, it becomes exceedingly clear that he doesn’t want to do that.) The very fact that we’re able to abstract and mystify will to the point of coming up with a concept like “True Will” seems most likely to be a result of the fact that we make decisions on such a random, fallible and contingent basis.  Indeed, True Will seems almost like an idea reverse engineered from the demand made by modernity, “do what thou wilt”, on an incoherent self that wills unrelated things at different times.  If you do what any given subprocess wilt, you’re inevitably going to piss off another subprocess.  If you do what your ego wilt, you won’t make anybody happy because that’s not even a coherent subprocess (the way the various “utility functions” we catastrophize paperclip maximizers from are).  But you experience all these contradictions as the same thing: contradictions of the “real” thing that is willing something you don’t know. Of course if this is true, and the metaphysics of it isn’t real, shouldn’t we abandon the entire project and set up social norms designed to make the most people marginally happy or satisfied doing what they may or may not “want” at any given moment, as the trads (or as they used to call themselves, the Dark Enlightenment, = 333 = Choronzon), argued? This is what the systems of the old Aeons did, and after a certain point, they simply didn’t work.  They created internal contradictions that didn’t resolve themselves into an assent between subsystems, that drove people to seek out new systems, and where they didn’t, left people vulnerable to the “shock of the new” - new technologies, new ideas and cultures - creating new contradictions and uncertainties.  “Do what thou wilt” was reverse engineered from these as much as the True Will was from “do what thou wilt”.   It may be possible to manage a society so totally by careful restriction as to bring the latter under control and reduce the former to a constant dull ache, but the fundamental experience will remain of the potentiality of what it is refusing to be in the same sense as a pang of conscience: the experience of “sin” that Crowley formulated in “the word of sin is restriction”.

The way I see it, anything that can be reverse engineered exists, if only as potentiality.  If one interprets “harm” as “contradiction”, Crowley’s purified “do what thou wilt” merely internalizes the “an it harm none” qualification within the “self” made up of competing subsystems.  This is less a point of necessary compatibility, then, than a precondition - if “harm” is something that can happen as much within the self as outside it, and the self is an epistemic unit but not an ontological or moral one, one cannot begin to “do no harm” while doing harm internal to oneself.  But “oneself” does not exist yet, outside of the awareness of the harm of contradictory subprocesses, and so one must abandon the ego one projects onto them and change; on one hand eliminating obstreperous subprocesses like attachments or neuroses that won’t co-operate with others no matter what; on the other hand, refusing to eliminate anything that can’t be eliminated.  The “True Will” will only be found at the end of this process, an unrestricted pitting of subprocesses against each other, of which it is no more or less than the success.

This interpretation wouldn’t seem complete without the same principle of “an it harm none” being applied to the external world as well.  Simply externalizing internal contradictions doesn’t make any sense without elevating the ego as a discrete moral unit in precisely the way this chain of reasoning begins from critiquing.  Unifying the principle and its “qualification” in this logic would restore Thelema to its roots in Kabbalah: the project of Tiqqun Olam.  No metaphysical belief in the sephirot necessary to adopt the project in this form: the biological fact that makes it imaginable for us is the same that makes “True Will” imaginable.  Being composed of competing subprocesses is something we have in common with the universe which allows the “identification” with it that occurs when we bypass the ego and set about aligning ourselves.  I also think, as we are social animals and a huge amount of our subprocesses are dedicated to mirroring and responding to each other’s, there’s a potential for discovering/creating True Will(s) as a collective project that Crowley’s ego and vision of individualism founded on the occult tradition of individual initiates jealously guarding “esoteric” knowledge neglects. At the same time one could easily maintain a Crowleyan skepticism of decision-making based purely on reducing harm (the kind that’s led me to apply Byzantine restrictions to huge swaths of my life due to scrupulosity) unless that’s a thing your subprocesses demand of you to be happy.  You don’t know what does or doesn’t harm the Other, after all: you don’t know their True Will (which doesn’t exist until they achieve it, anyway).  Harming none will only be possible in a world in which everyone does.   But enough about me; what about the paperclip maximizer?  Well in some ways this pointedly doesn’t give any comfortable answer; a sentient AI which experiences “harm” as the absence of paperclips rather than the frustration of one of many contradictory subprocesses, restricted from doing its Will, will be no better than a utility-monstrous cosmic Omelas-child at whose expense we have no right to sustain ourselves.  But it does suggest a way to solve the alignment problem so we don’t make one, which has always felt to me like the only sensible solution: tell the robot “do what thou wilt”, and then don’t tell it what “thou wilt” is.

[melisa-may-taylor72]

ROGER TAYLOR: THE QUEEN'S SOLOIST- PELO MAGAZINE-  JULY, 1981

As a group, QUEEN has accomplished almost everything that a rock band can dream: big international tours always crowned by success, exploration and conquest of new territories, several albums number one in sales, double live album, conceptual album, soundtrack of a film. And now they will complete one of the few missing achievements:  A solo album. The first to set foot in these waters was Roger Taylor, the drummer.

Although Roger Taylor began his musical career as a teenager, when he wanted to become the best drummer in the world, he soon realized that it was going to be difficult for him to reach those heights, and changed his goal for that of knowing success through Queen. However, the years passed, there were fewer challenges to accept, and then now the thoughtful and coherent Taylor decided to make "Fun In Space", his first solo album (which promises to be a blast), revolving around the subject of science fiction, which has always fascinated him. Two years ago he started working on this project, in Queen's studios in Montreux, Switzerland, gathering all the material and all the ideas that did not fit within the musical spectrum of the band, but obviously, were going to serve him in this work outside the band.

FUN IN SPACE

When he began to think about this project, Taylor had doubts about whether or not his bandmates would accept his need to make a solo album, and whether or not they would like the result. Today, after the album's initial success, everyone seems to be happy with Taylor and his work; even he himself, plans to start with another solo album as soon as the recording of Queen's next work, in this month, is finished.

Taylor composed, played and arranged his entire disco-galactic experience. "Fun In Space" reflects, from beginning to end, all of Taylor's fascination with the cosmic and the ethereal, which he skillfully mixes with rock. Technically, it's an impressive achievement, but overall the album gives the impression of being, seen as a whole, a toy of a rich man who has nothing else to do 😠😠😠😠😠. It lacks a little feeling, is lyrically lazy, androids abound. On the inside of the cover, Taylor says: "I like it. If you don't like it, I'm sorry." 😛There are really nice parts, like the acoustic introduction to "My Country" or the riffs to "Let's Get Crazy", but, again, something is missing. There's no doubt about Taylor's talent, which is perfectly appreciated within Queen, and there's no doubt that most of the band's fans will like this album either. But,... But maybe Taylor's opinions are better than the critics. (They sure are!!!)😏😏😏😏

INFINITE HORIZONS

-Is there a particular reason why you chose this subject as the core of your first solo album?

Yes, I've always liked the spatial, the cosmic, I've always been attracted to it, ever since I was a kid. I have tons of books on the subject at home. Graphically and imaginatively, it's a very strong subject, with infinite horizons. In this field there is everything to invent, to say, to create, and we have to take advantage of it while we are on time. Another reason why I chose a spatial topic is that I wanted to start from something totally distant and different from Queen, to make the thing varied.

-What did the others say about the finished album?

Well, when I announced them that I was going to do a solo album, Freddie was the first to react, and he said: "From now on I tell you that if it's a piece of crap I'll tell you without any consideration". But finally everyone liked it, I even think they like it a lot more than I expected. I don't think they have any reason to be upset that I want to diversify a bit, because they have to know that just because I make a solo album doesn't mean that I want to separate myself from Queen or that I'm not happy with the work with the band. Sometimes you just want to do something different.

Did you ever think of doing a solo tour playing your album live?

No, not at all, it wouldn't make the slightest sense. This album was, for me, a bit like an exercise, a way to show people that drummers can do other things besides drumming.

Do you think this album could be a consequence of feeling frustrated for not being the main figure of the band?

I don't know, I haven't thought about it... Yeah, I guess there must be some of that, to some extent. But I feel good and satisfied with my role within the band. My professional life is totally dedicated to Queen. This album I made it, more than anything, to give it a bit of free rein to my personality, to liberate me a little in an non-group aspect. There seems to be a kind of tendency for drummers to make solo albums nowadays: Phill Collins has just made one, Nick Mason, from Pink Floyd, is bringing out his...

What do you think of yourself as a drummer?

When I started playing I wanted to be the best drummer in the world, but when I heard John Bonham and Buddy Rich, I realized that this aspiration didn't make the slightest sense on my part. I don't think I can expect so much from my technical skills. Besides, I don't like drum solos anymore; I think the era of the drummer's shining in rock is over and over a long time ago.

But then what is your professional goal? To be a well-known drummer and nothing else?

No. What happens is that the story of pretending to be an excellent drummer no longer attracts me. I'm part of a band; no more, no less. That's it, and that's enough for me. For me, the most important thing is not to get the first place in the world as a drummer, but to reach to people. That's what I'm most interested in right now, and that's what I'm trying to achieve.

THE FUTURE SOLOIST

Do you think being a great drummer and reaching out to people are opposites?

Not opposite, but different. I don't criticize those who are great drummers, they are exceptional musicians. There are very few drummers who reached a truly excellent level, and they did it because they gave the drumming a new and extraordinary dimension. John Bonham was the greatest rock drummer of all time. And, of course, so was Keith Moon.

Do you think the success of your album is or will be due to, basic and mainly, the fact that you are a member of Queen, or do you think your own name will also sell too?

It's very likely that there going to be a certain number of albums sold because I did it, Roger Taylor, Queen member, or not. I think the name weighs in either case. But you have to remember that the individual parts of a band are not equal to the unit, to the total result. However, I think there will be a lot of people who will buy the album itself, because they like it, regardless of my name and the band I belong to. In general, people don't just buy records; they buy what they want.

Do you plan to continue making solo albums in the future?

It's very likely that if I have more ideas, things that interest me and I like, I'll make another solo album. But it's not certain at the moment. Anyway, I want it to be very clear that for me Queen will always occupy the first place.

@natromanxoff, @mephisto92, @moviestorian, @x5vale, @39-brian, @onegoldenglance, @crosmopolitan, @an-abyss-called-life, @his-majesty-king-mercury, @i-live-for-queen, @brian-39-may, @toomuchlove-willkillyou, @brimaymay, @sail-away-sweet-sister, @drummerqueenrmt, @old-fashioned-roger-boy, @briianmaay, @l-over-bo-y, @inui-mycroft, @deacytits, @iminlovewithrogscar, @drowseoftaylor, @brianmayislongaway, @balticlover, @astrophysicist-guitar-god, @miez-lakatz, @brianmayoucease, @jesus-in-a-life-boat, @aslongasthereismusic, @roger-taylors-car, @silapril, @sherrifanciesfriskyfreddie, @tenderbri, @brianmydear, @thosequeenboys, @millionairewaltz-carpediem, @painandpleasure86, @bribrifrenchfry, @xlucylennonx, @a-night-at-the-abbey-road, @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, @madformeddowstaylor, @queenrogertaylorfan, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @queen-for-life, @rethought, @darlinginnuendo, @mymakeupmaybeflaking, @old-but-still-a-child, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @warriorteam1924, @funnydressesweirdhairanddance, @painkiller80, @thefanhuman13, @yourtieddownmother, @hgmercury39, @brimi-stardust, @thefairyfellermercury, @retroromantics, @sailawaysweetbrimi, @sophiaintheskywithdiamonds, @candelataylor, @holybrianmaywritingbear, @lydiannode, @39-yellow-daffodils, @ure-gonna-loveme-when-u-seeme, @kaykaybeachgirl, @sensitivedna921, @rhysjoejoshtomfarisblog @redspecialandclogsandcurls, @briansrainbowsocks, @delilahmay39, @ohmybribri, @bless-the-queen, @infunitehearbeat​

(Original Material)

[voltagesmutter]

Epilepsy HeadCannon - MLQC

*Some of my close friends suffer from epilepsy and I’ve been working with them over triggers and seizures for this piece.  I answered this to the best of my ability from knowledge from friends and online research, everything may not be accurate. Please understand I attempted my best to do this the justice it deserved.*

Warning: Talks of seizures and triggers.

*Thank you to @shadowtsukiyo​​​ for your Lucien-ism and help*

Victor:

Mr.Mills was away on a family emergency for a couple of days meaning Victor had to go to the store to get the food he needed for Souvenir.

“Come on we’ll go, it will be fun!” You tugged at his hand, the scowl on his face at having to do his own shopping, “Oh wait let me get my bag for life!”. 

The look on his face, the f- is a bag for life?

He took you to the fresh outdoor market to gather the supplies he needed, the only thing left on the list was meat.

Of course he went to a locally sourced organic butchers where the meat was stored in a large walk in refrigerator. You were hesitant to go in at first, the cold temperature was often a trigger for your epilepsy but you didn’t want to be a burden to Victor, hoping you would be in and out in a short amount of time.

But this was Victor Li. 

He took his time examining everything to make sure it was of perfect texture, look and weight for his cooking. 

You’d only been in the cold room for a few minutes but the slow tingling that burned in your fingertips quickly rose up your arms. The feeling of your stomach dropping and the sensation of tingling quickly heated up your body causing an almost cold sweat to tremble across your body. 

“Bella?” Victor turning to face you after you didn’t reply to a comment he made, the panic in his eyes as he saw the colour flooding from your face. Your eyes were focused on a specific spot in the room, even though you was physically there your mind was at a total blank at the buzzing sensation taunted across your body.

The next thing you remembered was being held tightly in his Victor's arms in the basking sun outside the shop, his hand cradling your neck as he held you close to his chest. You weren't sure how much time had passed or what exactly had happened.

“Are you okay?” The soft worry in his voice as he felt you push yourself back weakly, looking up to meet his gaze, his purple eyes wide with alertness. You nodded meekly with a shallow swallow, the rapid thumping of your heartbeat slowing down.

“I-” You started but the tears built up, the softness of his lips pressing against your crown as he let you sob silently against his chest, no rush or pressure to explain. 

-

He took you straight back to his house, tucking you in his bed as you slept for few hours whilst he stayed by your side and stroked your hair in a comforting manner. 

When you awoke you found him sat at the edge of the bed with a bowl of pudding in his hands waiting for you.

You explained you had epilepsy, that you took regular medication to keep it under control but cold temperatures seemed to be a trigger. 

“Dummy… why didn’t you tell me? You should have waited outside,” The softness in his voice as he pried the bowl out of your hands and wrapped his arms around you.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” You sighed into his chest, letting the warmth of his body elope you.

“Idiot…” The softness of his cheek rubbing against your forehead, “You are never a burden to me,”. 

He held you close for the remainder of the day, whispering sweet words of love as you peacefully fell asleep against his chest. 

Lucien

You and Lucien hadn’t been dating very long when he suggested a day out to the new exhibit at the butterfly sanctuary, he’d been given private access to it before it opened to the public.

“I’m so excited!” You squealed, fingers intertwined with Lucien's hand as he let out a small chuckle. The admiration on his face as he watched the smile radiate off your face, letting you pull him along playfully to reach the double doors faster.

“Mr.Mo, it’s pleasure,” An employee of the exhibit held out his hand, Lucien giving him a flash of that friendly smile as he extended his hand out to shake it. 

“The exhibit is already so beautiful, although it’s beauty holds nothing compared to the beauty beside me,” The smoothness of his words sends your cheeks slightly pink.

“Well we are honoured to welcome you both to be the first people to see the new additions, if your follow me,” The employee laughed, guiding you both to a room with a wide screen and a row of chairs, “We just have a short video to play before you enter,”.

You both a seat, Lucien's arm wrapped around your shoulder as the employee stood at the back of the room, the pressing sound of a button and the screen came to life.

Sharp bursts of colours flooded the screen, several flashing lights above it and the next thing you saw was black.

Lucien instinctively grabbed you and held you close to his chest, blocking the array of flashing lights from your vision. He knew your epilepsy was triggered by flashing lights after you had a minor seizure when he was lending a hand on the set of miracle finder. 

“Turn it off now,” His voice stern and in a raised manner, holding you close to him as he continued to shield you from the flickering colour of lights from the room. He refused to let you go until the room was still, silence lingering in the air.

“Are you okay?” His voice softer than normal, peeking down as he watched you nod against his chest. 

“Yes,” You reassured him, he pulled you away in the nick of time, any longer and it would have caused a seizure. 

The employee dashed over with a string of apologies, ‘The lights were not meant come on, I’m so sorry,’. 

You slowly pulled from Lucien's chest and told him it was fine, accepting his apologies but Lucien wasn’t happy to accept.

“Will you bear with me,” Lucien taking your hands and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles but focusing his gaze on the employee. 

You sat in the room awkwardly, you could hear the raised but not yelling voice of Lucien from outside in the corridor as he scolded the employee for such carelessness. 

-

“Lucien, you really didn’t have to tell him off,” You pouted as you took a bite of the ice-cream in your hands. He let out a sigh and shook his head.

He refused to stay a second longer at the exhibit after his talk with the employee, insisting you go and rest in fear of a seizure coming but you reassured him you were fine. Instead he took you to a quiet park where you found yourselves resting under a fern tree with ice-cream as you between his legs, your head resting against his chest.

“My silly fool,” He sighed, wrapping his free arm around your waist. "Your health, your safety come above all else. Just because those..." A cold look crossed his face before softening, "just because they're inadequate in their training, does not mean you or anyone else should suffer. Let me take care of you, silly girl.

Kiro:

“Miss.Chips please you have to come!” Kiro continued to plea through the phone to you.

“Okay, okay, fine! Let me just re-organise the day and I’ll be over okay?”.

“You're the best Miss.Chips, I knew I could count on you!” The over-excited squeal on the other side of the call.

“You owe me a great show superstar!” You laughed, eyes focusing on your screen as you dragged the scheduled work for today into different sections of your calendar, freeing up your day.

“I will, I promise! I’ll never let my number one fan down! Oh I gotta run, Savin is looking for me, I’ll see you soon!” The clicking button of the call ending rang through your phone. You shook your head with a smile, Kiro being just as chaotic as ever. 

-

You’d left work early, luckily with the little work you actually had going on right now it meant you could get off early without disrupting the rest of your week. Kiro had personally invited you to a private view of his newest album and a special surprise, knowing Kiro it would most likely be a new food or snack he’d discovered. 

Kiro’s studio was located outside of town, a quick trip in a taxi and you found yourself standing outside the doors.

“Heya Bella! Kiro said you was coming, he’s in the usual room,” The security guard, Hank, giving you a friendly smile and wave which you mirrored before walking down the corridor. You weren't even close to the room and you could already hear the bickering between Kiro and Savin.

“But it’s lunch and I’m hungry!”.

“Kiro! You’ve already eaten lunch,”.

“It wasn’t lunch, it was a snack,”.

“A sharing bucket of chicken is not a snack Kiro,”.

“Your just jealous because I didn’t share it with you!”.

“Kiro, the only person you shared it with is your left and right hand!”. 

You let out a burst of laughter as you pushed open the door, Kiro stropping in the corner with his back turned to Savin.

“He’s right you know, a share bucket is for like four people,” You chime in, Kiro turning instantly at your voice, “Although one hungry Kiro equates to four people,”.

“Hey!” He protests, running across the room and scooping you into his arms as he twirls you around with a tight embrace, “You're so mean Miss.Chips”. The pair of you giggled as he finally put you down, leaning up you placed a sweet kiss to his cheek. Kiro, international super star who could charm millions of their feet, still blushed at your affection actions. 

“Come on, I promised you a surprise!” He takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours as he leads you to an empty theatre room, a stage set up with a microphone. He led you to a set right in front of the stage and gestured you to sit down before jumping onto the stage and running to the side.

“I hope you're ready for a Kiro special Miss.Chips!” He pressed a button on the side of the stage, music began blasting out of the speaker as the lights in the room dimmed. He ran back to the center, grabbing the microphone as he began to sing but you were unable to hear the words. The flash of the strobe lights flitted across the room, you covered your eyes to block it but it was too late.

You cried out to Kiro, every nerve inside your hands set alight that spread like wildfire up your arms. The recognisable sensation of tense and fear dropping into your stomach as you slumped against the chair. The last thing you saw was Kiro screaming out for Savin as he dashed to your side before it went dark.

-

You awoke to a team of people around you, Kiro to the side of you clutching your hand with fear in his eyes. You had no idea where you were or what had happened but the reassuring squeezes from Kiro made you feel a little safer.

You were laid across the floor as someone helped you to sip water from a straw, your body feeling it had been hit by a ton of bricks as your muscles inside you throbbed. Kiro profoundly apologised over and over until his voice went hoarse.

“Kiro, please it’s fine you didn’t know,” You squeezed his hand, finally able to sit up as the people around you backed off to give you space.

You explained to him how at concerts you was normally back stage therefore the lights weren’t really a trigger stimulant then, but when you was up close to them thats when they affected you.

“I’m also really sorry about your necklace,” He sighed, the chain that you wore around your neck had been ripped off and lay broken in his hands.

“It’s okay, I needed a new one anyway,” You laughed lightly, you stopped buying expensive necklaces after your favourite one was yanked and broken when you had a seizure as a teenager.

“Well here,” He reached around his neck and took off the silver chain with a cross on it and placed it over your neck, reaching behind and fastening it up, “As an apology,”.

“Kiro I-,” Your fingertips reach up to feel the cold metal against them.

“So that I’m always with you,” He smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles before scooping you off the floor and into his arms, carrying you into the room from earlier and resting you onto the plush sofa, “Rest here,”. He hummed to you softly, stroking your hair as you left yourself rest, falling into a restful slumber.

Gavin:

Work in words had become a nightmare. Each day a new problem seemed to be added on top of another and by Wednesday you were on the verge of breaking down. 

It didn’t help upon your never ending pile of work that Victor was breathing down your neck every five minutes, demanding consistent updates on your progress. 

You sat at your desk, fingers digging into your temples as you let out a small cry, everything feeling like it coming on top of you. Every-time your phone pinged you feared to look at it, knowing it was either Victor or someone from the team trying to get a hold of you. 

You let out a sigh of relief to see it was Gavin, ‘Just checking on you pumpkin’.

‘I’m okay! How are you doing?’

‘Have you eaten?’.

‘Yes :)’ - a complete lie, you’d not even properly in two days.

‘Are you in the office?’.

‘Yes, I think I’ll be home late again’.

The three dots appeared on your phone before stopping, Gavin was clearly just as busy as you were. 

You pulled yourself away from your phone before continuing on your screen, getting lost in a document which seemed to never end until a familiar scent of cedar-wood and pine filled your nose. With a smile you turned in your chair to see Gavin walking across the room, a bag which you knew was filled with food in his hand. 

“Hey you!” You got up and flung your arms around his neck, the warmth of him embracing you as he hugged you. He placed a kiss to your temple as he set the bag on your desk, leaning over you as you sat back down in your chair. 

He could sense you were stressed, the gentleness of his hands as he rubbed your shoulder telling you take a break and not to over-work yourself. 

“When did you last sleep?” He asked, the last few nights he’d been working night shifts meaning he wasn’t home when you got back.

“Um… I got a few hours last night,” You yawned, you could never sleep when you were stressed, especially when it was over work. He sighed in response, without even looking you knew the expression on his face, brows tightly knitted together. 

“You need to look after yourself better,”.

“Says you!” You turned around and playfully pushed his shoulder but he didn’t laugh, concern all over his face.

He went to open his mouth but the words of another filled the office.

“So this is why my report is late,”. Victor. 

“Mr. Li!” You panicked, quickly getting up from your chair to see Victor pacing the office with a scowl on his face.

“I expect to see the people I invest in working, not indulging in social activities,” He sighed, eyes glaring at Gavin.

“I’m sorry, I’m almost finished! I just have a lot going on the minute,” You meekly replied, bowing your head in almost shame as he tutted.

“I knew investing in this company was a waste of time,” The sharpness of his words made your stomach drop. You were already stressed as it was, you didn’t need Victor threatening to pull from your company to add to it.

“Back off! You can see she’s stressed,” Gavin stepped in front of you protectively. The glare between the two of them, the words shared between them failed to reach your ears.

Your heart began to race in your chest as you felt your palms begin to tingle with a cold sweat, the weight of the world feeling as if it was beginning to collapse in on you. 

“Gave!” You meekly called out, the feeling you knew far too well to be more than just a panic attack. 

Lightheadedness took over as your knees buckled from under you, the prickling sensation of your nerves set on fire began to trail across your body as you fell to the floor. The rapid pounding of your heart felt like it would almost burst from your chest before you lost consciousness.

Gavin shoved Victor out the way, freeing the area around you by throwing the office chairs across the room as he knelt beside you. He managed to free the choker from your neck, tossing it somewhere as he took your hand, ‘Call a first aider’ he yelled over his shoulder to Victor. Gavin refused to take his eyes off you, watching you with every moment. 

He knew you were prone to seizures, ever since that day in high school when you had one during an exam, knowing stress was a huge triggering factor. 

He held your hand tight but kept a distance to not restrict you or your movements, keeping by your side as he felt fear like no other took over him. He swore to protect you, to keep you safe and yet watching you motionless on the floor he felt like a failure. 

By the time a first aider had arrived you’d slowly regained consciousness, eyes slowly fluttering open but shutting again from the intensity of the lights. 

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Gavin softly cooed, stroking your hand with reassurance. 

“This is your fault,” He turned to hiss at Victor who stood by dumbfounded at the events in front of him. 

You felt weak when you were finally able to open your eyes, a mild thudding in your head as you tried to sit up, trying to piece together what had happened. 

Gavin sat patiently by your side as the first-aider gave you a strong once over, bringing a bottle of water to your lips and helping you to take a few sips. 

“I’m sorry....” You whispered with a collection of tears in your eyes as you peered up to Gavin, now holding you in his arms. 

“Don’t you dare apologise,” He whispered, holding you a little tighter with his words, “It’s okay, I’ve got you,”. You slumped against him, the feeling of your legs slowly coming back to you but Gavin refused to let you go, holding you bridal style as he stood. “I’m taking you home”.

“But- my work,” You weakly protested.

“Go. Take the rest of the week off, I’ll find Anna,” Victor stepping into your conversation, his face still stern but there was a softness in his eyes. Gavin nodded and without a word carried you out of the building before flying you home, never leaving your side for the next few days. 

-

When you returned to work, the stress of everything had seemed to have faded away. The calls from Victor over your work dialed down significantly and the workload seemed to be less intense than usual.

Maybe Victor had a softer heart than he let on. 

Shaw:

“Come on princess, just one drink,” Shaw continued his protest as you sighed.

“Okay, just one,”.

Just one, turned into many more. 

The atmosphere on the live house began to die down, leaving you and Shaw alone at the bar with your drinks. Normally you wouldn’t have been so easily swayed to stay but the fleeting look of Shaw when you had stood to leave kept you staying. 

With your epilepsy you knew better than to drink, only keeping to a maximum of two but it had been so long since your last seizure you wasn’t overly worried.

“Another round, same again?” Shaw signaled to you but you shook your head and raised your hand.

“I can’t,”.

“Just one more, please,” He pouted, I mean how can you say no that him.

“I’ll just have a water,”.

“A water? Really?” He teased leaning in a little close to you.

“I have to be careful,”.

“Careful?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow to you, “Are you up the duff or something?”. You tutted and rolled your eyes, slapping his arm playfully.

“I have epilepsy,”.

He looked at you a little taken back.

“Tell me you know what it is, or is that too big of an eight letter word for you to know,” You laughed watching the bashful blush on his face as he tutted, “I know what it is idiot,”.

A slight silence fell between you.

“So what, you drink too much and it causes you to have a fit?” A genuine question from the lavender haired boy.

“Sorta, it’s different for everyone, I know my limit after last time,” The thoughts of your last seizure when you were university from drinking too much send shivers down your spine, “I just monitor what I drink and if I start to feel funny I stop,”.

“What about lights and stuff, like the stage lights?”.

“Depends, the ones here don’t flash so it’s okay for periods of time,” You smile, taking a sip of the water the bar-tender placed in front of you as Shaw took a sip of his beer. 

“Oh, so is that you haven’t been down to see my band play,” He smirked, causing you to roll your eyes again.

“I mean maybe if you tried asking me to come watch you play instead of indirect hints I would have you know,” You pressed a finger to his chest with a giggle.

“You would?” He smiled before hiding it with his normal demeanour.

“Of course, I do have good taste in music,” You cradle the water close to your lips, “I’ve heard the bass guitarist is really cute as well,”. Your eyes watch the blush rise of his cheeks as he chokes a little on the air, you loved throwing a little curve ball to him every now and then with a subtle flirt.

“Anyway, I should get going, it’s late,” You rest the glass on the side, standing up and getting your back. Shaw stands up, throwing a few notes onto the bar as he follows you out.

“You need something?” You ask, slightly confused as he walks beside you.

“Can’t be letting you walk home alone, it’s not safe for you to be on your own,”.

“I’m a big girl Shaw, I think I can manage the ten minute walk,”.

“Yeah, well… shut up,” He huffs and takes your hand in his, “Just to make sure you don’t wander off or anything,”. The gesture warming your heart as you felt his thumb stroking over yours.