#anyway chalk this up to another joke post that went way too far

[viric-dreams]

[falcon-eye]

Part 3? of the story for my OCs for @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU! I intended to only write like the opening paragraph for this today but now it’s two hours later and the whole thing is typed out. Oops.

At some point this will all be on AO3, I promise! But until then, should I do a tag list? Would people want me to tag them as I write these in the meantime? Please let me know!

(Also points to whoever can guess what Veko’s talking about when it comes to colors and smells and things! I also have it, though not exactly like Veko does)

(Also bonus points to wherever can figure out what real life goat Ren is based on lol)

———————————————

Unfortunately, Veko wasn’t able to return to Eloise for a few more years. Between simply not being in the area, not having time between hunts, his brother Hamra almost being disemboweled one year, and his own injuries, he just hadn’t been able to make his way to her little town in Temeria.

This year, he was determined to go back, though he wasn’t sure why. He chalked it up to being able to stay somewhere comfortable, with actual good food, for free, but even he knew that was a flimsy excuse. Eloise fascinated him, for lack of a better word. She hadn’t been afraid of him—quite the opposite! From the get-go it was like she had tried to intimidate him, and godsdammit it worked. But she was so nice to him, and despite what she said, her food was quite good. Or maybe everything Veko had been eating recently was just that awful.

Veko swung down off of Nine—his new gray mare after Eight became wyvern food (rest in peace you prick)—and hitched her to the fence post outside Eloise’s house. For some reason, he was nervous to see her again. Was it because it had been so long (for a human anyway) since he’d been here? He didn’t want her to think he wanted out of their deal or anything.

Veko brushed as much dirt and grime off of his armor as he could before knocking on the door. A moment later, it swung open and Eloise stared up at him with wide eyes.

Veko scratched his burns. “Uh, hello Elo—“

Eloise threw herself at him, arms around his neck. “Oh my gods!” she cried. “You fucking prick! Where have you been?!” Veko faltered for a moment before tentatively wrapping his arms around Eloise’s, but she immediately pulled back, giving him an icy glare. “Well?!”

“I, uh, I’ve been... busy,” Veko replied, but for some reason, Veko felt awful despite it being the truth.

“Busy!” Eloise exclaimed. Holy shit, she’d really been upset about this.

“I’m sorry,” Veko said, staring down at his boots. “I really am. And—and I really was busy. I don’t want you to think I was trying to get out of the deal or anything, cuz I wasn’t—“

“You think I’m upset because of the fucking deal?!” Eloise shouted. Veko blinked at her and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “For Melitele’s—get in here!”

Eloise pulled Veko into the house and slammed the door. Despite the few years that had gone by, not much inside had changed. There were more paint supplies strewn around the house than last time, but that was about it.

Veko scratched his scars again and Eloise slapped his hand away. “Sorry,” he said automatically.

“I thought you were dead!” Eloise shouted, poking a finger into Veko’s chest. “You’re a bloody Witcher! That’s what happens, isn’t it? You fight monsters, and then you die. Well godsdamn you I thought you died!”

Veko was horrified when the salty smell of tears began tickling his nose; something must have showed on his face, because Eloise rubbed her eyes quickly, not letting any of them fall.

“I’m sorry,” Veko said again.

Eloise glared at him again before suddenly hugging him. “Fucking git,” she hissed. “Send a letter or something, at least! I don’t know how to get ahold of you but I’m always here!”

Veko hesitated again but hugged Eloise back. This time, she didn’t pull away. “Sorry,” he said into her hair. “Just, every time I was in the area, something would come up, or my brother was hurt, or I was too injured to travel—“

“Are you ok now?!”

“Oh yeah, all healed up now.”

“And your brother?”

Veko smiled sadly, remembering the blood on his hands and the horrifying look of resignation on Hamra’s face. “Touch and go for a bit, but yeah, he also made a full recovery. I just couldn’t leave him like that.”

Eloise finally pulled away and crossed her arms. “Well damn,” she grumbled. “How can I be mad at you now?”

Veko chuckled, feeling like a weight had lifted off of his chest.

—————

During lunch, Eloise filled him in on how things had been going since they’d seen each other. Lennart was still a bastard, but after being slapped in front of the gods and everyone by a lady at the tavern, he’d been officially removed from his position. A local woman had taken the title of alderwoman now, and things had been a lot better. A few of Eloise’s goats had had multiple babies, though a wolf problem last year had taken a few of them. She still had one of her original nanny goats, though, and apparently this particular goat was about as stubborn as they come.

“She actually chased one of the wolves off, even!” Eloise explained. “Charged it head on. I’ve never seen a wolf roll like that in my life.”

“Remind me not to piss your goats off, then,” Veko chuckled.

Eloise seemed to pause for a moment. “I actually have to go feed them,” she said. “Plus, your horse has just been... well, outside tied to my fence. Come with me?”

So that was how Veko found himself leading his horse to the tiny barn behind Eloise’s house. He could see a couple goats that were obviously youngsters immediately rush over to the fence, bleating loudly. From within the barn, a huge tan goat trotted out and fucking screamed.

Veko flinched and even Nine pulled back. “Sorry, sorry,” Eloise said. “That’s Georgina. She’s... special.”

“I’ll say,” Veko grumbled. “This our wolf chaser?”

Eloise shook her head and pointed to another goat on the opposite side of the paddock. A little black thing, shorter than the others, with huge, curled horns. Eloise whistled and the goat immediately charged—and slammed horns first—into the fence.

“Ren,” Eloise said, crouching down to scratch the goat between the ears. “She’s harmless. Mostly.”

Veko looked at Nine and seemed to almost share a stare with the horse. A ‘can you believe this shit?’ moment that got Veko chuckling despite himself.

“Whatever you say.”

Eloise led Veko and Nine into the barn and into a small empty stall. “This was my father’s horse’s stall,” she explained as Veko began undoing Nine’s tack.

“Where is your old man, anyway?” he asked as he heaved the saddle down.

Eloise looked away. “He, um,” she cleared her throat. “He passed, um, a few months after you left.”

Veko dropped the saddle. “Fuck,” he said. “I’m—I’m so sorry. Fuck, if I’d known—“

“Veko,” Eloise put a hand on his arm, “my father was sick. Even I didn’t realize how badly until a week before he went. But it was... it was peaceful, at least. I’d made him dinner, he wished me goodnight, and I found him in the morning.”

Veko honestly didn’t know what else to say. Death was a weird subject for Witchers, after all. He continued grooming Nine while searching desperately for something to say that wasn’t ‘sorry’ again.

“Did he have... a funeral?” Veko asked. He could’ve slapped himself. Of course he had a fucking funeral.

Eloise seemed to sense Veko’s fumbling, because she smiled gently and nodded. “A very nice one, too,” she said. “I’ll go get some water for your horse.”

As Eloise walked away, Nine looked at Veko again. What was it with this horse? Veko pointed a warning finger in his face; Nine simply huffed and turned away. Somewhere, Hamra was laughing, Veko was sure of it. His brother had always had a good relationship with his horses.

Eloise returned a moment later with a bucket of water. Veko immediately took it from her and poured it into the empty trough.

“What’s her name?” Eloise asked. If he could blush, Veko would’ve been scarlet.

“Nine,” he said.

“‘Nine’?” Eloise repeated. “Does that mean something in another language or like, the number?”

“The, uh, the number.”

Eloise slapped Veko’s hand as it reached for his scars. “Why?”

“She’s my... ninth horse.”

There was beat before Eloise burst out laughing. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Veko smirked to cover his embarrassment. “So I’ve been told.”

Eloise rolled her eyes and headed over to the opposite end of the barn. The far wall was lined with bales of hay. Before she could even reach for one, Veko rushed over and hoisted one over his shoulder. Eloise put her hands on her hips.

“You know I’ve been doing this for years even before you showed up, right?” And she had a point; what was wrong with him?

“I, uh,” he looked anywhere but at Eloise, trying to find an excuse. “I figured it’s... been a while since I’ve been here so I, uh, owe you. I guess.”

“Are you telling me or asking me?”

“Yes.”

Eloise laughed. “Ok then,” she said, heading back out of the barn. “I’ll get the gate at least.”

Veko followed Eloise to the paddock and held Ren by a leather strap around her neck while he made his way through the gate. The other goats immediately began following him. As soon as the hay hit the ground, the goats descended. Eloise let Ren go and the other goats parted to let her through.

“I never realized how scary goats were,” Veko said as Eloise latched the gate closed.

“To be fair, I have quite the herd of characters,” she replied. “Most people have a rooster to wake them at sunrise; I have Georgina and her screaming. Ren is like my own personal guard hound. Sometimes she gets out and chases off anyone who gets near the house. The others are still young, yet, but they’re slowly starting to show their personalities.”

“I’ll stick with horses, I think,” Veko said. “They’re enough trouble as it is.”

“Apparently!” Eloise laughed as she and Veko made their way back to the house. “Seeing as you’ve had nine of them!”

“This is a dangerous job!” Veko defended, but the tone was joking. “Plus in the grand scheme of things, nine horses hasn’t been a lot for how long I’ve been on the Path.”

Eloise’s brow furrowed. “How old are you?”

“Old.”

Eloise scoffed and started gathering some of her paints. Veko followed her into her art room, not sure what else to do at this point, and found the walls covered in different paintings than the last time he’d been here. One in an ornate frame was her father, exactly as real as if he was standing before them.

Eloise picked up a few leather straps from one of the tables. “Help me with something,” she said. “I’m going to repaint the goats’ collars and I don’t know what color to give who. I want you to help me decide.”

“Ok?” Veko said, taking a seat. “Why?”

“Something you said to my father, when you saved him,” Eloise replied. “It always confused him. He told you he lived in the house with the blue roof and you said it suited him. Why?”

Veko went to scratch his scars, but instead balled his hand into the fabric of his pants. “Well, it’s, uh,” he hesitated. Of all things for that old man to focus on!

“My father was always fascinated with color,” Eloise said, as if sensing Veko needed a minute. “That’s how I got into painting. He was never content with something being the original color it was. Hence, the blue roof. He said that you saying the blue suited him kind of, I don’t know, validated him.”

Veko’s chest felt tight. Now he felt fucking terrible for not being here before. Maybe Eloise’s father would’ve understood, or at least found it interesting that—

Veko cleared his throat. “So, sometimes,” he began, staring down at his hands. “When I think of things, or names, or... well anything, really. I get these senses.” When he looked up, Eloise was enraptured. “Like, your father, just looking at him, the color blue came to mind. I don’t know why.”

“Just colors?”

Veko shook his head. “Smells, sometimes. Like when I think of you... I, uh, I think of the smell of your paints.”

“That’s... that’s fascinating, Veko,” Eloise said. “Tell me more?”

Veko gestured to the collars. “Well, you’re trying to figure out what color for what goat. As soon as you said Georgina, green came to mind. I don’t know why. And Ren is red, but not because the name and word are close. Uh, sometimes when I picture my supplies in my pack, I see them like they’re all laid out on the table, lined up side-by-side, despite the fact that I know damn well they’re a jumbled mess in my bag. And in my head, the order is always the same. I kinda do the same thing with months. I see them lined up like squares on a wall.” Veko grimaced. Fuck. “No, ‘see’ is the wrong word, cuz I don’t—I’m not hallucinating or anything!”

“I believe you,” Eloise said softly, taking one of Veko’s hands in hers. And she was telling the truth. Veko felt the tension in his body release.

“It’s weird, I know,” he said. “So I don’t normally say anything. When I was younger the trainers thought my head got fucked up by the mutagens but it’s just the way I’ve always been.”

“Does your brother have this too?”

“No,” Veko chuckled. “But he’s been the most receptive to it, even if he doesn’t understand it. Like, his favorite color is green, but when I think of him I think of like an indigo color. And I’m red, but I don’t know why.”

“What about me?” Veko met Eloise’s gaze and held it. The look on her face was one of honest curiosity and interest. She smiled at him and squeezed his fingers. “What do you see when you think of me?”

Veko swallowed. “I see turquoise, like the color your dress was the first time we met. I don’t know if it’s because that’s what you were wearing or what, but when I think ‘Eloise’ I think of that faint turquoise color.”

“Does it work for family names?”

“Sometimes. What is your full name, anyway?”

“Eloise Calold.”

Veko cocked his head to the side. “Yellow,” he said. “Calold is yellow.”

“But not because of anything I’m wearing,” Eloise said, gesturing to the paint-stained brown smock she was currently wearing.

“Guess not.”

“Veko,” Eloise breathed. “That is the most fascinating thing I’ve ever heard of. So you see colors? Or, think in colors? I wish I had that. I wonder how it would affect my art. I wonder how it would affect your art.”

Veko pulled away and put his hands up. “Hey, whoa, who said anything about me being an artist?” he said.

Eloise laughed. “I bet you’re better than you think,” she said.

“I bet not.”

Eloise smirked. “Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll drop the subject if you do something for me.”

“Name it?”

“Let me paint you.”

Veko again was struck silent. She wanted to paint him? Apparently his mouth was hanging open, because Eloise tapped his chin to close it. “Why?” he managed.

“Because,” she replied. “We’re... friends. Or I like to think we are. And in case... in case something happens to you...” she gazed at the painting of her father, smiling down warmly at them, “I want you to be immortalized with him.”

What the fuck could Veko say to that? “Oh. Ok,” he said dumbly. “Uh. How do you want me?”

Eloise jumped up and ran for a blank canvas. “Whatever’s comfortable!” she called. “It takes a while.”

Veko just... sat there as Eloise began setting up. He turned this way and that, never quite settling, before Eloise huffed and dragged an armchair over. Veko abandoned the stool he’d been on and sat back into the warn leather.

“Better,” he said. He turned, scar facing away, and immediately Eloise’s hand reached out to turn him back. Her fingers grazed the puckered mess that was his cheek and he flinched.

“I’m sorry,” Eloise said gently. “I just—I want to see it.”

“Why?” Veko whispered.

“Because it’s a part of you,” Eloise replied. “And gods know I’ve kept you from scratching it enough.”

There was a moment where neither of them said a word. Veko’s heart sped in his chest like it hadn’t in many years. Eloise gazed over his burn scars and gently brushed her fingers over them again. Veko didn’t flinch this time, but just barely. Her fingers were cool against the phantom heat of his burns, and as she traced the expanse of them along his jaw, he couldn’t hold back the full-body shiver the touch elicited.

Eloise pulled back and Veko scrambled to find something to say before she said anything else about them. “So—so how does this work?” he asked. “I, uh, I just sit here?”

Eloise nodded and finally pulled back. “Yes,” she said, not meeting his gaze. Now that he was out of his own head, Veko could hear her heart hammering in her chest. “Just, um, get comfortable, relax, and um, don’t... don’t move, if you can help it.”

Veko grinned. “Ok.” Eloise nodded and began mixing a few paints.

Veko just... watched her. As brush met paint and paint met canvas, he could almost see the cogs turning in her head. Instead of sticking her tongue out, like he’d heard some artists do, she made faces. A stroke here and her mouth pinched to the side; stroke there and her mouth opened in a little ‘o’.

Veko wanted to slip into meditation, as that would be the best way to sit still for her, but he found he just couldn’t. As much as Eloise was watching him for her painting, he wanted to watch her. He couldn’t help but think of the last time they’d seen each other, and what he thought of her then. She wasn’t all that attractive, merely plain by any standards. Her laugh was unladylike and jarring. She intimidated him. She swore. She—

She made him dinner. She let him sleep in her home. She told him stories and listened to his in turn. She wanted his opinions. She found his mental crap fascinating. She worried for him. She cried for him!

She called them friends.

As Veko sat, watching Eloise paint his portrait, a warm weight settled in his gut. He didn’t want to leave in the morning. Hells, he didn’t want her to ever finish this bloody painting. And although emotions aren’t exactly a Witcher’s strong point, he had a sinking suspicion that what he was feeling...

Fuck.

[tropicalfreckles]

Beej?

Anon you’ve opened the floodgates you absolute fool(i’m kidding) OKAY, let me tell you all about what I like about the smelly trash man cause if it wasn’t obvious before with me not being so subtle I have a big crush and enjoy this stupid demon a lot (crush on musical beej specifically of course LAWL)

Why I Like them: OKAY IN ORDER, first movie Beetlejuice. I enjoy he’s a big sleazy asshole that has funny one-liners every time he actually just show up in the movie. He’s a fast-talking con man that acts like a used car salesman and he has a sleazy charm to him. I also enjoy watching Barbara school his ass every time I rewatch the movie, stan movie Barbara y’all she’s a babe and will take you down. I also like to thank Michael Keaton for his performance it was a great one and we all have movie Beej to thank for the other Beetlejuices we got!

Toon Beej! Adorable, a brat, a jerk, a man that would do anything to make a quick buck and he’s gross and such a petty shithead I love him lmao. He can be pure and adorable and nice when he wants to be even if he doesn’t like to show that he has a soft side. Also holy shit all his puns??? YES?? I LOVE PUNS. His jokes, his powers, everything about this middle aged dead ghoul is A+ and ya know what when karma does slap him that’s good too cause he does deserve to get taken down a peg some times lmao. Toon Beej is someone I’d happily be friends with.

now we get to my big ass crush on a stupid, smelly BASTARD OF A BUGMAN

Musical Juice. What don’t I like about him? Besides his dumb ass plan of a green card marriage lmao (I mean movie beej also sleazy af for doing that too). ANYWAYS. What I like. His stupid smile (both blum and brightman just WHY ARE THEY BOTH SO ATTRACTIVE AHHH), his unhinged pansexual disaster energy, who tf is letting this man do coke that is a terrible idea but it gives such hilarious results, the fact that he uses his humor with his trauma he needs to NOT call me out like that lol. I weirdly relate to Musicaljuice like a lot (as someone who struggles with trying not to be petty or get jealous and stuff like that), plus him feeling invisible and lonely also hit home really hard when people in middle school and high school would randomly just drop/ghost me out of the blue. He’s such a chaotic sleaze and I just enjoy his energy and his jokes so much. His dirty humor? Sign me up I keep it clean here folks cause I got another blog for dirty stuff but I like dirty humor when it’s done right lmao. Also dadbod. Dadbod is CHEF KISS. The little things I also enjoy. How he does have an affectionate side (him being just affection/touch starved also coming for the throat cause me too), the fact that he jumped to protect Lydia after she rightfully killed him and he even gave her his cowboy hat as a goodbye present. I thought it was nice of him to yeet out of there cause he did do a lot of bads lmao. I also love how excited he got and the chaotic sibling energy he had with Lydia when scaring. I just really, really enjoy musical Beetlejuice a lot guys.

Sorry I’m such a simp for him lmao

He is my emotional support bastard

Why I don’t: I honestly do not hate his character at all, but, I can criticize his actions. To a degree. I can’t exactly say (ex. Musicaljuice)“Oh no! a demon trying to kill Lydia’s friends and family?? How unexpected!!” he’s a demon he’s gonna do evil-ish things. Which is why I applaud Lydia taking matters into her own hands good kid 10/10. and like movie Juice is a bastard sleazy man of course he’s gonna have a shitty idea as to marry a teenage girl so he can freely do whatever he wants in the world of the living. He never in the final script showed any creepy shit towards her which god I am grateful for I don’t need someone perving on this teenager that’s already having a wild time in her new house. He’s a conman just trying to have a good time but goes about it by crappy means. The petty/jealousy thing can go too far some times (but I chalk that up to musicaljuice’s sad upringing along with not having an positive relationships that we know of in his life to support him) for musical and toon juice (toon juice once again I don’t think had any friends that really understood him when he was alive and when he died so he just does whatever he wants since people already think so little of him before he meets Lydia), however with the proper talking to I think both could improve from it. Like in an analysis way I know these guys are fictional just like character development thoughts. All three have said and or done some things ranging from like small shitty things to problematic obviously. Beetlejuice is a very complex character as a whole. Movie juice obviously not as developed since he’s barely in the film to kind of shroud him in more mystery but that doesn’t mean his motives aren’t intriguing. I don’t want to make this post longer than it already is so that’s just all of my thoughts summarized.

Favorite Episode (scene if Movie): Fav movie beej scene is hard.

His first time meeting the Maitlands, his charades with Lydia, then the ending scene are all so good.

Toon Beej I’m trying to think. Once again I’ve only rewatched like 20+ episodes for the cartoon so it’s hard to pick with limited options. Uhhhh I like the haunted attraction episode lmao also the creepy tree and how he went out of his way to help Lydia move her favorite tree and in the end tried saying something nice to the tree even though eh was annoyed with it the whole episode.

Musical juice that is HARD, Blum and Brightman just own every scene they’re in shit lawl. I really like the evil plan reveal during the séance. The whole being dead pt 1&2 (the guide reprise), say my name, his scenes with the maitlands.

Favorite season/movie: Skip

Favorite Line: NICE FUCKING MODEL!! *honkhonk* (pfft)

also like... everything beetlejuice says in the musical lmao “new phone who dis”

Favorite Outfit: HONESTLY I love every single outfit all three beetlejuices wear. I want the fucking guide hat so badly!!!

OTP: 

hahahaAAAHH ah. Well. Ya see here. Let’s go with the first options. Cause of a number of artists on here I’ve been pretty keen on the BeetlejuicexMiss Argentina ship for moviejuice tbh lmao. I like the idea they had an office fling. Musicaljuice and Miss Argentina sounds cute too.

I don’t actively go into the Beetlands tag but I do think the art and idea for it (after a lot of building up trust/consent/and talking) think it can be a super cute poly ship! I like.

I don’t really ship Toon Beej with anyone tbh.

so now into the self indulgent shit lmaaoo

I love people’s ocs/self inserts with the Bugman a lot and I myself super hardcore ship my oc Leilani and musicaljuice. I... maye have drawn self insert art I have no posted here out of being shy but it’s on another blog that will stay hidden lmao. I don’t normally post self insert stuff of myself cause man I can draw it easily for other people but when it comes to myself I am shy.

I mean I’m writing a fic for beej and lani as we speak and you all know by now if you’ve been following me for the past couple of months I’ve drawn a handful of doodles plus commissioned numbnutspo to draw my self indulgent ship lawl

BROTP: The obvious for toon and musicaljuice is Lydia Deetz of course. Chaos siblings. Also I have a BROTP of my demon oc Antares with musicaljuice too. Dumb demon bros.

Unpopular Opinion: TBH Idk if I have one. I like to think there’s a resounding hiss @ the ship that shall not be named lmao.

A Wish: Same wish I had for Lydia’s ask, I wanna see the musical live REAL BADLY. I also wish I could tell the cast/crew of the musical how much it has helped me get through this shitty year and how it legit just revived my passion for drawing again. I got to meet a lot of people through the musical and made some new friends. Plus I’m actually making money off my art now???

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: I wanna forget that clean beetlejuice from that one episode of the cartoon exists lmao it scares me (I mean I wouldn’t object to musical juice to taking a fucking bath or brushing his teeth but let’s be real that ain’t happening)

5 words to best describe them: Bastard, Unhinged, Handsome, 1-Brain Cell, Huggable

My nickname for Them: I mean when I refer to him or write fics it’s always Beej, BJ, Bugman, Bug, Bastard Man, Smelly Trashman, Garbage Man, Lawrence, the list goes on lawl

and now I have aired out more of my stupid obsession with this dumb demon

edit: I FORGOT HEADCANONS

OKAY HEADCANONS. Musical juice is definitely the oldest of the three, (in dead terms too, in alive terms he was ony alive for like less than 3 minutes or something), I love musicaljuice pansexual/genderfluid so much. I have a bunch but my mind is like blank rn for the rest shit sorry but I added those in at least

also I like the funny headcanon toon juice is taller than keatlejuice and musicaljuice

I also like the headcanon for autistic beetlejuice (as someone who is also autistic)

[atths--twice]

Wedding Countdown 

Chapter Five 

Saturday, Three Days to Go

Mulder feels the need to pick out a possible “first dance” song, much to Scully’s absolute horror.

11e/15

Mulder paced across the living room, waiting for Scully to come downstairs after putting Faith to bed. Pausing, he glanced up and listened, to see if he could hear her coming yet. Looking down at his phone, he saw the song he had queued up. He had heard it earlier and he knew how Scully was going to react when he played it now, but he was ready for that battle, he had his story all prepared.

Hearing her footfall on the steps, he put his phone in his back pocket, turned around and grinned at her. Regardless of the questioning look she gave him, he put his hand out to her, her frown making him smile even more. Always skeptical, that was his Scully.

“What are you up to, Mulder?” she asked.

“Dance with me,” he said, smiling as he gestured with his hand for her to come closer.

“Mulder …”

“Humor me, Scully,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her close.

“There’s no music,” she teased, looking up at him and raising her eyebrows, causing him to laugh.

“This is true,” he said, dancing slowly in place. “I was thinking as you were upstairs, that we don’t have a song to dance to at the wedding. You know, our first dance and all.” She pulled back again and shook her head, opening her mouth to say something. “Relax, Scully. I’m joking. I don’t even know if we’ll have dancing, Tampa is in charge of all of that. But, I did hear a song today and if you’ll humor me …” He took out his phone, pushed play, and she groaned.

“My Heart Will Go On, Mulder? You know how I feel about this movie,” she said in a warning tone, as he put his phone back in his pocket, and they began to dance around.

“Ah yes, Scully. I believe the words ‘just sink already’ were yelled at the screen. But I chalked it up to you being irritated by the ‘non-case case’ you worked on while in Maine. You know, on your weekend away. With Jack.” He twirled her around and pulled her back, spying the grin she was trying to hide. “You know it’s a good thing the theater was basically only us, because I think people would have taken offense to you yelling that, taking into account the history of the ship and all-”

“Mulder, shut up. Why in the world this song?” she asked, as she rested her head on his chest.

“Well, I was listening to it recently... by chance,” he stated, as she pulled back to look at him. She nodded, unconvinced, and put her head back on his chest. “It’s true, it played on that station you like, and I swear to God … ever since you were pregnant and then even more so after Faith was born, I feel so emotional about things. I don’t know if you’ve noticed.” He waited and was not disappointed when she scoffed out a laugh. He smacked her ass and she yelped, digging her nails into his waist.

“The way back past, Scully, the circumstances out of our control … I never, I never thought I would be a father and not just one … in theory, so to speak,” he whispered into her hair. “We puttered around here, you and I, and we were happy, but the sadness … it was palpable at times and though we never said it, this home lacked something. William … he left us both with an emptiness that became bigger as we tried to make it smaller. Thinking of him growing up here, having a catch outside, camping out in tents, building rockets … it was a dream and something I didn’t share with you. I see now how stupid that was, I do.” He could feel her taking deep breaths and heard her sniffling, but he continued on, holding her close to him, dancing slowly, the song set on repeat.

“It’s not a … a replacement with Faith. I don’t want you to ever think that …”

“I don’t, Mulder. I understand what you’re saying. I … have those moments too. Looking at her, seeing her milestones being met and knowing how much we missed. Her calling me Mama, Mulder, I will not take that for granted even once. She can say it with love, anger, or annoyance, and I will love it every time. I wasn’t a mother to William, not the way I am to her. He is my son, our son, but … I understand.” They were quiet as they stopped dancing and simply held one another, the words of the song finding new meaning for them in the moment shared.

Every night in my dreams

I see you, I feel you

That is how I know you go on

Far across the distance

And spaces between us

You have come to show you go on

“He’s with us, Scully. He always will be, and one day we’ll see him again,” he whispered, and she nodded as they began to dance again. “I honestly didn’t mean to traipse down this path, but we obviously needed to discuss it. Again.” She laughed softly and nodded her head again. He sighed and was quiet, following the trail back to where he had planned to go.

“When I heard this earlier, I was remembering watching this movie after you came back from Maine. God, I had missed you so much, it was embarrassing,” he laughed and she chuckled.

“Pencils falling from the ceiling embarrassing?” she teased and he laughed.

“Exactly. So, I had suggested we cut out early, hit that head shop for you to buy a poster, for some other man I might add -”

“Of which I never sent it, if you remember correctly.”

“A moot point, at this juncture,” he replied, and she laughed again. “Anyway, I suggested we go see what all the fuss was about with this movie and you rolled your eyes, but agreed. Like I said, there were only a couple other people in the theater and I was glad of it when you yelled for it to sink.”

“Ha! That was hilarious, because I remember the other two people in there said Amen! and I didn’t feel like such an asshole. But Mulder, I just … I didn’t feel it and so, I wanted to get to the, for lack of a better word, the action part of the movie.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” he said, and she laughed again.

“Then, God, this song was everywhere. And then oh, do you remember how it had dialogue from the movie added to the song? Mulder …” She pulled back and looked at him with wide eyes. “It felt never ending at times.” He stared at her and shook his head.

“You did start an “I love Cal Hockley” fan club, didn’t you? You went into online chat rooms and discussed how he was the real victim, didn’t you?” he deadpanned, causing her to throw her head back and laugh. When she had finished, she looked into his eyes and smiled, her eyes twinkling.

“Yes, Scully, I remember your disdain for the movie, but if you would shut up, remove the preconceived thoughts from your head, and listen to the words of the song, you’ll see why I was affected by it. So I’m going to start it over, and you’re going to be quiet, you got it?”

“Or what, you’ll smack my ass again?”

“I will, but let’s save that dirty talk for later.” She laughed as he queued up the song again. “Now just shut up.” She raised her eyebrows at him, and then put her arms around him, and her head on his chest, as they began to dance slowly.

Every night in my dreams

I see you, I feel you

That is how I know you go on

Far across the distance

And spaces between us

You have come to show you go on

Near, far, wherever you are

I believe that the heart does go on

Once more you open the door

And you're here in my heart

And my heart will go on and on

“That, Scully, that right there,” he whispered.

Love can touch us one time

And last for a lifetime

And never let go till we're gone

Love was when I loved you

One true time I hold to

In my life we'll always go on

Near, far, wherever you are

I believe that the heart does go on

Once more you open the door

And you're here in my heart

And my heart will go on and on

“So much has happened, Scully, and yet here we are, together, dancing in our living room while our little girl sleeps upstairs,” he whispered into her hair.

You're here, there's nothing I fear

And I know that my heart will go on

We'll stay forever this way

You are safe in my heart and

My heart will go on and on

“I know it’s super cheesy, I know you’ll roll your eyes, but it’s true, there is nothing I fear, not when you’re here. We can face anything, we will face anything as we’re meant to, together,” he said, his chin resting on her head, as this time the music stopped and did not repeat.

“So cheesy,” she breathed and he smacked her ass again, causing her to laugh softly, and then sigh. “Mulder, you have always been a cheesy kind of guy. Your puns, whether I laughed or not, it’s part of your charm and makes you who you are. It’s one of the things I love most about you. You take things seriously, to a point, and then you bring the comic relief. Sometimes it lands and sometimes I don’t want to encourage you, so I hold the laughter inside. But..." She looked up at him and smiled. “I love your cheesiness, because I love you.” He bent his head and kissed her, before pulling her close again.

“I’m happy to hear that, Scully,” he said and she hummed. “It’s nice to know that you appreciate my silly humor.”

“To a point, Mulder,” she warned.

“Like the point of an iceberg?” he asked excitedly. “Because I think we could even get through that, Scully. Our ship wouldn’t sink and there wouldn’t be any casualties.”

“Okay, see now,” she said, pulling away and stepping back, her hands up in surrender. “That’s too far, even for you, Cheeseball.”

“What? I’m saying we’re unsinkable,” he said, with a huge smile. “Our love has anchored us and kept us from drifting off into the horizon. No more rough seas, only smooth sailing, as far as the eye can see. Scully? Where are you going?”

She did not answer, but continued across the room, a slight gagging sound heard as she began to walk up the stairs. He laughed and walked around the room, turning off the lights and locking the doors. Taking the steps two at a time, he arrived quickly at their bedroom door. Standing in the doorway, he grinned at her.

“Permission to come aboard?” he asked, and she threw a pillow at him, hitting him in the face. He laughed and stepped past it into the room, closing the door behind him. “Now about that dirty talk …” He pulled her close and she raked her nails up his chest.

“You got the green light, sailor. Full steam ahead,” she teased with a purr, and he groaned, gripping her hips tightly.

“God, I love you.”

“I know. And, Mulder, you definitely have permission to come aboard.”

“Oh, Scully …”

___________________________________________________

Song credit - My Heart Will Go On written by James Horner / Will Jennings. Sung by Celine Dion.

*Full disclosure, I was the one who totally thought, “just sink already” as I watched Titanic. I just ... it didn’t do it for me. It’s all visually stunning, but 🤷🏻. At least I didn't yell it at the screen like Scully did, so there is that at least.

Although Titanic was not my absolute favorite movie, I do love the song and I DID like when the dialogue from the movie was added to it years ago.*

[neon-sparrows]

day one: fear yes i know i’m behind. it’s me i never do anything by deadlines. anyway expect some irregular postings until i manage to catch up (if i do, please believe in me, i’m Doing My Best)

It’s a smudge in the back of the tape, he tells himself.

Just a smudge. Sometimes tapes get damaged. They get a little too damp or were jostled a little too hard and film smudges, right, of course film smudges, because tapes get damaged. Cracks in the—in the casing, in the plastic, something he’ll find when he runs his thumb across it. Feather-light pressure on a cracked tape, because he’s diligent about caring about them.

It’s just a smudge in the back of the tape.

It was one of Alex’s old tapes. He’d grabbed one at random out of the bag that Alex had given him the last night he’d seen him and put it in his camera to take a look, because that was what he had on hand. If it wasn’t a smudge on the tape then it was some reflection of the light, some glare on the viewfinder, some—something other than acknowledging a figure in the shadow. Something other than an unrecognizable shape, incongruent with what he knows was there that day and what he remembers seeing, because he remembers being behind the camera.

It’s just—a practical joke. Something set up to spook him because Alex was gonna come back sooner or later and laugh with him, Ha ha, did it scare you?

He rewinds the tape in the camera, cautiously, slowly. No sense damaging it more if it is damaged. The pause isn’t frame perfect and the tinny audio is the voices of absent friends that makes him slightly more distracted, but it’s unmistakable. A smudge, he tells himself, a smudge on the lens, a distortion in the tape itself, just a crack making the picture come out wrong.

Alex in the center of the frame, holding a script, facing Brian just beside him and Tim off to the other side with Sarah, cigarette between his teeth. Jay can’t see the smoke that rises from between his lips in this shot, but he knows it’s there by the way Tim’s head is tilted. Sarah looks frustrated, picking at the papers in her lap, and Jay knows he’s behind the camera. But he would’ve noticed.

He would’ve noticed something behind Alex, he thinks, would’ve noticed the lingering obstruction of a pale, tall figure, watching them. Behind enough that it could be distortion of the tape, because he’s ruined tapes before accidentally. Far enough away that it could just be a figment of his imagination, or so he wants it to be a figment of his imagination, some trick of light and lens and lingering illumination. He’s made it up. The camera’s made it up. Alex was midsentence, his attention on the script and on Brian. Jay is so certain he would’ve noticed. So certain he could’ve seen. So certain he would’ve known.

The features of the stranger remind him more of the remnants of chalk left behind by an overused eraser, impossible to make out but still suggesting that something had been there in the first place, and Jay has the sensation of something stuck in his throat.

He presses play on the tape. Listens to Alex emphasize a line or something, knows that he is smirking behind the camera because he thinks it’s funny when Alex is so caught up in something so small, but he feels cold as he stares intently at the figure in the back. None of them recognize it. None of them notice it. None of them even seem affected, despite the fact that—it must be his eyes playing tricks on him, because the color and the sound on the tape distorts some and screen tear cuts his friends in half but the stranger in the tree line comes closer, almost, closer and closer still and Jay inhales slowly as a sensation of intense discomfort gathers in his chest.

It’s nothing. He would’ve noticed. His friends would’ve noticed. He’s not an idiot, he’s not unobservant, he would’ve noticed. Alex’s voice fades into another complaint and Brian snaps something back, both of them overlaid with messy rumblings that make it more difficult to make out their voice, Jay hears himself speak out loud about almost running out of time on the tape and knows that that’s Sarah commenting back that Alex probably has tons stashed away in his car, her voice cut off mid-sentence. He finishes it for her because he remembers it.

A white halo stands out against the darkness of the viewfinder where the figure had remained and Jay runs his fingers over his camera for a second, like it has become an unfamiliar oddity in his hand, something familiar made foreign as he presses his thumb against the side and opens it. He pulls the tape out gently, delicate, his bony fingers curling around it cautiously.

It’s natural for tapes to be messy sometimes. With as many as they had, as many as they filled, as much time spent filming, it’d be only natural for one or two of them to fuck up eventually. Alex spilled a drink on it. It got left in the sun too long. A bug settled in there and made itself comfortable and that’s all it was, surely all it would be, surely all it must be.

Jay stays still for a long moment, barely daring to breathe as he gathers his thoughts and runs his fingers across the tape. The normal, expected surface of the tape, smooth black plastic. He keeps waiting for a crack in the right place that would suggest it more, promising himself that when he finds it, he’ll be relieved and have his answer in the form of a fracture. A comforting crack that will announce that it really was just a trick or a joke or a prank and it’s nothing at all, but it does not come. It does not present itself to his probing fingers and the lump in his throat and the tension in his chest tightens, tightens, tightens.

He moves from where he’s sat on the floor by the bags of tapes cautiously, knowing that he’d curled in around the camera closer and closer until he’d settled into a contortion that should’ve been uncomfortable. His knees and elbows pop audibly as he stands and steadies himself, tape in one hand, camera in the other. He’s got some cords to plug into his camera that’d let him play the tape on his laptop, transfer it over into an editing program so he could cut out the right point and look for sure, put a name to a face. Some shmuck wandered onto the set. Stood there too long trying to figure out what they were doing. There was a glare on the lens of the camera because the sun was setting, and they were supposed to be home and out of the park already.

He knows the answer, though. He wishes he did not, because it makes him feel slightly sick to his stomach.

Alex had been complaining about being followed, hadn’t he? And Jay had brushed him off, somewhat, told him that he was just stressed about the movie because nobody else had seen anything. Jay moves towards his desk, digging in a drawer with some hesitancy until his fingers wrap around a cord. One end to his camera. The other to his open laptop. He’d told Alex, insisted to him, that if he was that stressed out it’d be okay for them to take a break from filming and figure it out, maybe call the police if he was that scared, and Alex had said nothing. Alex had had no reply, had simply let Jay wrap himself around him and went back to bed and pretended that there was nothing at all to worry about, and Jay wishes sorely that he’d be right, in this instant.

He starts up the camera again. Opens the program on his laptop. Steps gingerly over the floor towards his phone, tossed haphazardly away on the carpet because he’d spent hours going through tapes of his absent friends and missing them, missing them so much his heart felt full and empty in the same gesture—

He knows the number by heart.

“You’ve reached the voicemail of Alex Kralie. I can’t get to my phone right now. Leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

“Hey, Alex, I—I really need to talk to you, I’d really appreciate it if you called me back.”

He breathes in.

“I know you don’t want to hear from me or you’d have… probably called by now, I guess, but I saw something in the tapes and I don’t get it, and I just really would like it if you—”

Beep.

Like a ghost would call him back anyway. Texts didn’t work, calls didn’t work, and the alternative at this point is trying to call Brian, because Brian was a good friend to Alex too and Jay liked to think Brian liked him so surely there’d be—there’d be—

Less-tinny voices from the speakers of his laptop as the video begins to auto play and Jay doesn’t need to have his eyes open to picture the figure behind the group of them, standing stock still in center-frame, unnoticed and unacknowledged and unknown, lingering like a performer waiting for the right cue to announce themselves.

He feels sick to his stomach.

[occasionalfics]

into you // p. 2

main masterlist | steve masterlist | taglist | ko-fi | playlist | p. 1 | p. 3 

Summary: Just as Steve begins to wonder why he’s been sent on a mission well below his pay grade, a mysterious, unscented woman steps in and does his job for him. He’s immediately drawn into her allure, and he needs to know who she is, why she’s on a mission to take out some of the city’s most powerful alphas, and why he can’t get her off his mind.

A/N: Lemme know how I am with building up mystery because honestly it’s not something I focus on when I’m writing. I’m much more of a make them kiss now and ask questions later type.

ALSO A VERY IMPORTANT NOTE! I’ve cleaned out my taglist. I made a post (which you can find here) detailing why I’ve decided to do this and how I went about it. If you were on the list and haven’t gotten notifications, that means I didn’t receive a notification that you wanted to remain on the list. That does not mean, however, that you can’t add yourself back onto any list you’d like - the google docs for that are located above. And if you’re new, feel free to add yourself to the list(s) as well! Feel free to send me any questions or concerns you might have!

Warnings: Violence, blood, same as last chapter I think? I forgot to put in a/b/o as a warning but I think it should be. Some people don’t want to read a/b/o, and I get that.

Words: 1,856

He, Sam, and Nat are late this time. They don’t know how, but they are. When they walk into the bar, the alpha of the offending pack has already been taken out - this time with a sharp knife to the throat.

That woman is here. She pulls her blade from the alpha’s neck, wipes the blood on the alpha’s pant leg, then lets his lifeless body fall to the ground. This is all before she notices three new alphas have stepped into the bar.

When she does, her dark eyes go wide. She can’t look at Steve again, but she glances briefly at both Sam and Nat before turning around to the bar. “Jack and coke, please,” she mumbles.

Nat leans toward Steve and mumbles, “Looks like our job’s already done.”

All he does is nod in return. Then he moves across the room, slowing when he approaches the bar because he doesn’t want to scare her away. Even though he thinks he somewhat already has. Somehow.

He ignores how confusing she is and sits on the stool next to her. “Put her drink on my tab,” he tells the bartender. She doesn’t have time to protest before he orders, “And I’ll take Scotch on the rocks.”

Sam and Nat almost join them, but they take seats at the opposite end of the bar. Somehow, they know Steve needs this time with her alone. Or as alone as he’ll get in a public place with a dead body on the floor behind them.

They stay silent next to one another until their drinks are delivered. She sips at hers, he tips half of his back in one go, then he puts the glass down easily and turns to look at her.

“So,” he whispers. “We meet again.”

“We weren’t supposed to,” is all she says.

Once again, he’s baffled by her. Truth be told, he hasn’t stopped thinking about her since their first encounter. He can’t stop trying to figure out why she won’t meet his eyes, why she won’t answer his questions (other than them not knowing one another). He can’t figure out why he feels so...pulled toward her. Like the universe has its hands at his back and it’s making sure to steer him in her direction, no matter what.

And this is only the second time they’ve met.

“And yet, here we are.” He tips his glass toward her, finishes the drink, then sighs. “You gonna tell me who you are this time?”

She shrugs. “Are you?”

He knows, deep inside, that’s a fair question. She asked him who he was first the last time. And he avoided that answer, partially because he half-expects everyone to know who he is. He’s Captain America.

He knows she’s not an alpha, knows that she knows he is. His nature tells him that she owes him something, but his common sense says otherwise. He has to fight one to get anywhere tonight, and he knows that, too.

So he swallows his alpha pride and allows his pride of being a gentleman settle in its place. He turns to her on the stool, holds a hand out, and watches as she flinches away. He refuses to pull back - it’s just a handshake he wants, nothing more. He’ll accept less only if she walks away.

“Name’s Steve,” he tells her, a small, soft smile falling on his face.

She doesn’t smile back, but she does face him. She stares at his hand as if it’s the most elegant thing she’s ever seen. He totally doesn’t understand her, but every fibre of his being wants to.

She takes his hand in her tiny, velvet-smooth one and says, “(Y/N).”

He just barely notices that her hand is so smooth because she hasn’t wiped off all the blood. Somehow it doesn’t matter. Somehow, it doesn’t make him sick. It definitely doesn’t endear him to her, but it also doesn’t push him away.

He’s far too intrigued by her to care. That’s it.

“I’d say it’s nice to meet you,” he says, hoping his joke plays off well, “but I’m not sure why we keep meeting like this.”

She clears her throat, pulls her hand back to her, and finishes off her own drink. Steve nods at the bartender, who immediately starts making them new drinks.

“So you haven’t heard of me,” she mumbles, once again confusing him. “That’s probably for the best.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, his smile contorting into something that better fits his question. A squiggly line, he assumes.

She chuckles, like he actually has just told a funny joke. Her head shakes, and she picks up a discarded peanut shell from the bar. “We run in different circles, Captain.”

So she does know who he is; or, at the very least, he confirmed her suspicions with his name. He wonders who she thinks she is, keeping that bit of information from him. But Sam’s words from the last time ring in his head: “You’re definitely acting like you’re better than this.” He’s been good about not letting the celebrity of his job get to him. He doesn’t intend on that changing.

So he chalks it all up to an alpha thing. An alpha ego thing, he supposes. Anyone below him should know, should submit upon his request at any given time.

But she hasn’t. And, unlike other alphas, it almost thrills him.

No other beta, no other omega or delta has ever kept him on his toes like this. Well, maybe Peggy did once, but that was so long ago and this woman…(Y/N)...she wasn’t Peggy.

He pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind and focuses on her downward gaze. She flips the peanut shell over a few times, never seeing a real peanut, apparently. He wonders what circles she runs in if they keep meeting in seedy bars, if their goals appear to be the same.

“Maybe not so much now,” he says, nodding out to the dead body in the center of the room. “You were just faster than I was this time.”

“I was faster than you were last time, too,” she counters, sneaking a glance at him, though she still doesn’t meet his eyes. “And as far as I can see, I will continue to be faster than you. Just a heads up.”

The bartender puts their new drinks in front of them, and she immediately dives into hers. She shivers as the first gulp goes down.

“As far as you can see?” he asks, hanging on to every word she gives him. Every answer she denied him last time.

He wants more. He hasn’t felt like this with anyone in a long, long time, and it both terrifies and thrills him. Those feelings are only heightened the longer he goes without knowing where she ranks, who she really is.

She nods. “You’ve got your talents, and I’ve got mine.”

“So...you see the future?” he asks, swirling his drink in its glass without bringing it to his lips. He doesn’t actually care about it now - it’ll just get in the way of their conversation and he is too sucked in to that to be torn from it over something as trivial as booze that won’t even make him drunk anyway.

“Something like that,” she says with a shrug. Then she finishes off her drink, leaves the glass on the bar, and pulls her wallet out.

“It’s on me,” he starts to say, but she pulls out a few singles and leaves them under her glass anyway.

“Just a tip,” she says, winking without meeting his eyes. He begins to think her avoidance of his gaze has something to do with her ability, whatever that is specifically.

She pushes herself off her stool, replaces her wallet, and makes to leave before he - gently - catches her elbow with the tips of his fingers. The leather jacket she has on is the only thing between their skin meeting, and for the briefest moment, he hates the thing more than he’s ever hated anything else in his entire life.

But that’s ridiculous - to hate a leather jacket - so he calms himself, stands as well, and clears his throat. “I have to know,” he says, “why we keep meeting like this.” He gestures to the room, the dim lighting, the billiards game that’s resumed since the murder of the offending alpha, his friends sitting patiently at the end of the bar for him.

She pushes hair away from her face, though the movement seems to be more aimed at getting his fingers off of her jacket than anything else. She tells him, “Men like him,” and she points at the dead body, “call me Reaper. They cause trouble, I take them out.”

She gives no further explanation, just turns on her heel and moves faster than Steve has seen her move before. She’s out the door before he can catch his breath, and then Sam and Nat are on him with a barrage of questions about her.

All he can tell them is, “We need to find out what Tony knows about the Reaper.”

Tags!

Global: @samanthasmileys @sunigyrl @mysweetcookie99 @punkrockhufflefluff @lady-thor-foster @the-resal10 @rogrsnbarnes @xxashy999xx @badassbaker @frenfics @feelmyroarrrr

Steve: @girlwhoisfearless @mrsdeanwinchester19 @cherrysfandom @captainradicalpassion 

Series: None yet!

[lunarowena]

The Machine Beneath

For @pillarspromptsweekly #0041: Machine. Also cross posted at fanfiction.net and AO3.

Because I needed to justify to myself how Aloth winds up level 3 or whatever in Deadfire.

“Thank you for coming all this way.” Aloth lit a torch on the wall, illuminating the dusty passageway. “It means a lot to me.”

“Of course,” Amaryllis said. She picked her way around the rubble to follow Aloth. “Anything for a friend with an Engwithan machine problem.” Of course, the fact that it was Aloth certainly helped. “Besides, I’ve never been to the Vailian Republics before.”

“I apologize that your first experience is crawling through underground ruins.” They reached a fork in the passageway. Aloth studied some markings on the wall before turning to the right.

“Oh, you know me. I love crawling through underground ruins.”

“From anyone else I would assume that was sarcasm.”

“I do!” she protested. “Besides,” she smiled at him, “If we were up above I might blow your cover, ‘Aelfwine.’ There aren’t that many pale elves from the Dyrwood. If there are even more than one.”

“I’m sure we can figure something out. We can go around and see the sights after we take care of this.”

“Aloth Corfiser, is there even a machine down here or did you bring me here under false pretenses just so you could take me out?” she teased.

It was difficult to tell in the torchlight, but she could swear he was blushing. “I assure you, I do unfortunately have an Engwithan problem. However,” he was suddenly very interested in some dust on his jerkin, “I do admit I am very glad to see you.”

She had been joking, and now she was afraid she was the one blushing. “I,” she habitually reached to tug on the end of her braid before remembering she had braided her hair around her head for the excursion. “I missed you, too.” She wound up awkwardly rubbing her neck. Smooth. Luckily he was watching the passage up ahead and not her. “It certainly is a maze down here.”

“I’ve found that the Vailians just continued to build on top of the ruins of older cities. We’re going to want to go down here.” He stopped and gestured to a hole in the floor. “If there are stairs I unfortunately don’t know where they are.”

Amaryllis reached into her bag and pulled out a rope and grappling hook. “It’s more fun this way.”

“Right,” he secured the grappling hook and let the rope down the crevice. “Fun.”

Amaryllis sometimes wondered if they wouldn’t be better suited to each others’ lives–her traveling Eora after the Leaden Key and him ruling Caed Nua. He seemed to be doing perfectly well, though. Better, even. She doubted that the Aloth she had first met would be climbing around ancient ruins beneath a city. Shaking herself out of her recollections, she grabbed hold of the rope and followed him down into the darkness.

It was pitch black as they climbed down the rope. She had no idea how far it was to the bottom. She couldn’t even see her own feet as she looked down. “Lovely place you’ve got here.”

“Yes, well,” his voice echoed from below. They must be in some sort of open cavern. “I don’t have any spells that produce light without the chance of accidentally burning or dazing us.”

“That does seem like a bad choice this far up.”

“Quite.” His voice seemed to be echoing up now, they might be nearing the bottom. “If I’m timing correctly it shouldn’t be too much farther to the bottom, though I’ve only been here twice.”

“You’ve a good memory.”

“Chalk marks on the walls.” There was a soft thud as he must have dropped to the ground. “And I haven’t gotten us all the way there yet.”

“Well, there’s no one I’d rather be lost in ancient ruins with.” Her arms were starting to ache. She was getting out of shape just hanging around Caed Nua. Climbing down another meter or so, she let go of the rope and dropped to the ground. Hitting the bottom with a thud, she stumbled into Aloth as her feet rolled on the uneven ground.

He wrapped his arms around her to steady her. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Her face warmed as she was painfully aware of how close he was. After lingering a few moments longer than was strictly necessary, she cleared her throat and stepped away. “So, how did you find this place anyway?”

“Following some members of our favorite organization.” Light flared as he re-lit the torch and Amaryllis blinked in the light. “They weren’t quite as discrete as they thought they were.”

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she could finally look around. They appeared to be in the ruins of a city that had been preserved in the pocket of a cavern. “This is amazing.”

“I thought you would like it.” He worked his way to the left, peering down an avenue. “Ah, yes, we follow this street to that building up ahead.”

Following him up to peer down the street, she could see a faint, green glow up ahead. “Well, a straight shot is good.”

“It certainly helps with finding our way back.”

As they walked, she examined the buildings she could see by the torchlight. Definitely Engwithan with their elaborate designs and carvings. “So what was the Leaden Key up to down here?”

“I don’t entirely know. Something to do with the machine. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite as discrete as I thought I was and they caught onto me before I could observe what they were doing.”

“What happened?” They reached the doors of the elaborate… temple, she would call it, and there was definitely a soft, green glow emanating from the cracks in the doorway.

He turned towards her with a small smirk. “They’re no longer with us.” He pushed open one of the large, carved doors and gestured for her to step into the building.

Her footsteps echoed in the giant hall. Large pillars held up an elaborately decorated, domed ceiling. But overshadowing all the tarnished splendor was a large, towering metallic structure surrounding a jagged pillar of adra. The top looked like it had been chipped off and indeed, it appeared that a chunk of ceiling had fallen down and clipped it. The entire contraption glowed green. A soft hum pressed against her eardrums and the air felt thicker. For a second she thought she saw the machine surrounded by figures in a flash of purple, but just as suddenly the vision was gone. Her eyes watered and she shook her head trying to clear it as she continued walking toward the machine.

She felt Aloth all into step beside her. “I can’t say I’ve seen one exactly like this before. I assume it’s for more of the same; moving souls.”

He gave a weak smile. “I was hoping there would be instructions. Such as ‘this is the off button.’”

“If only we’re so lucky.” She continued forward up a small flight of stairs until she was in front of the control panel. “I don’t entirely care what it’s for. My plan was to decommission it like all the others, but it looks partially damaged already so who knows what will happen if I try to overload it.” Her eyes swam as the ancient Engwithan symbols formed themselves into words in her mind. “You may want to stand back.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder. “I’m not about to leave you.”

She reached back and squeezed his hand. “Just stay alert. Now,” she took a deep breath. “Let’s try this.” She twisted a dial. Nothing happened. “Well that was–”

A burst of green light shot forward toward her and Amaryllis felt herself shoved out of the way. She rolled down the stairs and lay coughing at the bottom. The light subsided. “Aloth?” There was no response. “Aloth!” She scrambled back up the stairs. He lay collapsed in a heap on the platform. She reached towards him. She tried to control her breathing, letting in and out a deep breath. He had a pulse and wasn’t a pile of ash. That was good. She hoped he would forgive her as she reached out toward his mind. A cipher and a Watcher. It was a dangerous combination.

She found his consciousness, but it was… less than she expected. Letting in and out another deep breath, she forced herself not to panic. Unfocusing her eyes, she mentally reached out to the surroundings. She felt it–felt him, part of his soul, slipping away into the jagged pillar of adra. “Oh no, you don’t.” Forcing herself up from her knees, she grasped the control panel. Honing in on the ripped off portion of his soul, she felt herself turning dials and pressing buttons she shouldn’t know how to press. The machine groaned and whirred. She ducked as there was another vibrant flash of green light into Aloth. She felt his soul snap violently back into place and breathed a sigh of relief. Something wet fell onto her hand and she realized tears were coming out of her eyes. Forcing in and out another shaky breath, she dragged the still unconscious Aloth down from the platform, then turned back toward the machine.

Clearing her mind, she stepped back up the stairs in a daze. Again she let her hands perform movements of their own, manipulating the controls, until at last she pulled a level and the green glow died. For a moment there was silence except for her ragged breathing before the adra pillar exploded. She threw herself to the ground, trying to shield herself behind the control panel as chunks of adra went flying. She felt a chip scratch past her face.

“Amaryllis?”

“Aloth!” She crawled down the stairs in the darkness, reaching blindly before she found his hand. She grasped it tightly, pulling herself toward him.

“What happened?”

“How do you feel?”

“Not well.” He coughed. “What just happened?”

“The machine malfunctioned, part of your soul was split from your body and attempted to escape, I put your soul back, and then I exploded the machine.” She fumbled on the floor for the torch. Grabbing hold of it, she realized she had crawled onto Aloth’s lap.

Fire flared from his fingertips as he lit the torch between them. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine. Aloth, your soul was just ripped in half! Or more like a quarter and three-quarter chunks. Or maybe a third and two-thirds.”

“You’re bleeding, you’re rambling, and you’re shaking.” He reached into his pack, fished out a handkerchief, and pressed it to her forehead.

She was shaking. She tried to hold the torch steady. “That blast was headed for me, that was incredibly stupid of you!”

“Better you than me.”

“How can you say that?”

“Amaryllis, I…” he shook his head. “From a practical perspective, I’m not a Watcher that knows Engwithan. If it had been you on the floor and me at the machine, I would only have been able to stand there as… whatever happened happened.”

“You might not have come back!” she tried to sound accusing, but only blinked back tears.

He wiped the blood from her forehead. “And you… you wouldn’t have come back. Don’t ask me to want to live with that.”

“I’m not asking you to–“ she cut herself off and sighed. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“No,” he grimaced. “I feel awful and I don’t think I’m going to be slinging fireballs around any time soon. But I’m awake, Iselmyr is still locked away where she should be, and in general I’m alive.”

“I’m not going to argue with alive. Are you going to be able to make it back up the rope?”

“I would love nothing more than to collapse right now, but I would like to try to make it back to the surface before that happens.”

It was a struggle to make it back up the rope, but they managed without any major mishaps. It was evening by the time they limped out of the caverns into the city supporting each other. A woman on the street screamed as she saw the elves and hurried in the opposite direction.

Aloth laughed. “You do look a bit like a ghost, pale white and covered in blood.”

“Well, then,” she smiled, “I request the first site you take me to see, ‘Aelfwine,’ is an inn with a bath.”

“I think I can handle that,” and the two elves turned down the street.

[cosmicpopcorn]

Deadpool 2 (2018)

So, your favorite crazy ass pansexual assassin/mercenary...antihero...whatever the fuck he is (let’s just go with fucking awesome)...has returned in Deadpool 2 ready to kick ass, take names, and make us laugh with the crudest of jokes. Colossus and Negasonic Teenage Warhead return with him, while the X-Force, Cable, and Firefist are introduced.

Before he made it to the big screen, Deadpool had a humble beginning when he first appeared in the comic book series, The New Mutants #98, cover-dated February 1991. Your girl Domino also makes her first appearance in this issue as well. The New Mutants series is a spin-off series from the X-Men franchise - it centers around a group of teenaged mutant superheroes-in-training. In issue #98, Deadpool has been hired to kill The New Mutants and Cable...such a wonderful way to meet your favorite neighborhood assassin/mercenary, right? He then began appearing as a regular character in the X-Force series and went on to make guest appearances in several Marvel comics such as The Avengers, Daredevil, and Heroes for Hire. After getting a couple of his own miniseries (The Circle Chase and Deadpool), he eventually got his own ongoing title/full series in 1997. Now this fool got two movies...he’s finally got a piece of the pie!

In the 2004 comic book series Cable & Deadpool, Deadpool describes his appearance as “Ryan Reynolds crossed with a Shar-Pei.” And since 2016 (if you don’t count Ryan Reynold’s appearance as Wade Wilson in X-Men Origins: Wolverine), Ryan Reynolds has taken on the task of being our beloved Deadpool and he’s pretty damn good at it. It was clearly meant to be. In Deadpool 2, starring alongside Ryan Reynolds, we have Josh Brolin as Cable (yes, that’s the same dude who did a fucking fantastic job as Thanos in Avengers: Infinity War), Morena Baccarin as Vanessa, Julian Dennison as Firefist, Zazie Beetz as Domino (guess who I’mma be for Halloween?), T.J. Miller as Weasel, Leslie Uggams as Blind Al, Brianna Hildebrand as Negasonic Teenage Warhead, and Stefan Kapicic as the voice of Colossus, Deadpool’s wonderful friend who puts up with all his bullshit and possible love interest/sex buddy? (I’m just saying - even Vanessa told him not to fuck Colossus when she spoke to him in the afterlife, so clearly something may be happening there).

Before we get into the pros and cons for Deadpool 2, let me just say this: I’ve seen a lot of Marvel movies lately and I gotta be honest, they have set the bar high for not only superhero movies but movies in general. At this point, even the most “average” Marvel movie is gonna have great acting, writing, and special effects. This makes it hard for a nigga like me who is trying to find something to critique when writing these reviews because who the fuck just wants to read about me fangirling over a movie (e.g. my Avengers: Infinity War post). I don’t even enjoy writing fangirl posts, which is why the one for Avengers was as short as it was. So unless Marvel starts randomly fucking up their movies for no damn reason - which I doubt is ever gonna happen - I’m not gonna have half as much to critique as usually do. 

Anyway, let’s get into the pros and cons:

Pros:

From what I know about comic book Deadpool (antihero characteristics, humorous - especially crude humor, breaks the 4th wall, pansexual), the movie Deadpool appears to be a pretty accurate representation of him. They didn’t try to make him kid/family-friendly, I definitely see them playing on and/or hinting towards his pansexuality (if anything I swear he flirts with men more than women - the only woman I really see him flirt with is Vanessa), and movie Deadpool is crude as fuck. They even have movie Deadpool continue to break the 4th wall (in case you didn’t know, breaking the 4th wall is when a character is aware that they are a fictional character and may actually interact with the audience) and you can check out this Deadpool 2 trailer for an example of him breaking the 4th wall - he actually interrupts the trailer to discuss the special effects. You’re never too sure if a sequel is going to actually be just as good as the original...or good at all. Another concern is whether or not the sequel continues to build on the character while remaining true to the character’s essence/core personality and this is especially concerning when a movie is an adaptation of a comic/book. Deadpool 2, if anything, continues to emphasize Deadpool’s core personality while building upon it at the same time. 

Going off of the first pro, Deadpool 2 emphasizes his core personality traits (humorous, individualistic, sexual) while attempting to give him more emotional depth. The first half of the movie has us watch Deadpool experience grief after the death of Vanessa. Even before her death, watching him interact with her and plan a family allows us to see the side of him that desires stability, commitment, and family. This first half is important because it shows us that while Deadpool is securely individualistic and doesn’t necessarily need a team like the X-Men or The Avengers, he does still desire family and companionship. It lets us know that even the Merc with a Mouth isn’t beyond the basic human desire to connect with others. In the second half, while more fast-paced and action-packed, we still get to see more of Deadpool’s sense of morality and belief in the goodness, or potential goodness of others when he fights to save young Firefist from Cable. In fact, I would say that Deadpool has an even stronger sense of morality than Colossus - Colossus was willing to leave Firefist in the hands of the headmaster even though it was pretty obvious he was being abused because he refused to play “judge, jury and executioner,” while Deadpool was so sure of how wrong it was that he started killing the orderlies immediately. We also get to see him try to form his own family with the creation of the short-lived first version of the X-Force. 

Ryan Reynolds was made to play Deadpool. Makes me forgive him for Green Lantern and almost makes me forget it even happened! By the way, that post-credits scene of Deadpool shooting Ryan Reynolds in the head while he holds a copy of the Green Lantern script is PURE GOLD.

Zazie Beetz does an awesome job as Domino - she makes a big impact on the audience even though she may not have as many lines or scenes as some of the other characters. The directors and writers also did a really good job of showing the audience Domino’s power of luck - a power that seems so abstract and would be believed to be difficult to display well in movie format.

Cable is a character that I feel you can empathize with and who I actually kind of liked by the end. I really enjoyed how at first he was portrayed as the villain, only for things to be switched up and for us to find out the real villain was the chubby kid from New Zealand (aka Firefist). 

While being hilarious and action-packed, Deadpool 2 does take the opportunity to give you something to think about if you pay attention. First, they have Firefist point out how there are no chubby superheroes. It’s no secret that our society often discriminates, shames, and is prejudice against those who are larger. In media, they are often portrayed as the butt of jokes, being romantically and sexually undesirable, lazy, unhealthy, not athletic, etc. So, is it really a surprise that there are no chubby or plus-size superheroes? I love that Firefist is not skinny or unrealistically built and that he points out how there aren’t any superheroes who look like him (Fun Fact: In the comics, Firefist is a white, skinny, blonde kid from Tulsa, OK, so I’m digging the changes they made - both to Firefist and Domino, whose comic book version was a woman with chalk-white skin).

Second, Deadpool himself points out how the name X-Men forgets that there are female mutants in the group...this is why he chooses X-Force, a gender-neutral name for his group of superhero misfits. The language we use in a patriarchal society is often masculine - for example, we tend to say mankind instead of humankind or things like, “come on guys” to refer to an entire group of people who may not all identify as male and it’s because men are seen as the default. Deadpool’s jokes and commentary in this movie sometimes calls out societal biases that have also made their way into our comics and superhero movies and I’m here for it. Not only that, but Deadpool does not look like your typical hero - his skin is scarred and disfigured, despite him being fit and we still see him being a sexual and romantic being and I think that’s powerful when you have nothing but a bunch of super fit and conventionally attractive superheroes running around.

The soundtrack for the movie is perfect and they perfectly match the songs and scenes. 

All the references are so fun to pick up on - if you’re really into comic books, superhero movies, and honestly just a TV and movie junkie in general, you will love picking up on all the references they throw at you. 

Cons:

So, while those references are great for TV, movie, comic book, and superhero junkies, they’re not-so-great for those who just watch movies here and there and aren’t necessarily fanatics. I’ll go as far as to say if a person isn’t really into comics, superheroes, and doesn’t really know a lot of television and movie shit...a lot of stuff is going to be lost on them. Some movies are made for everyone and some movies are made for fans or at least those with a strong interest - Deadpool 2 is one of those movies and unfortunately that may alienate other viewers/audiences.  

Deadpool’s humor can be hit or miss - at times, the jokes didn’t really hit and weren’t really funny. The first half of the movie’s humor wasn’t as good as the second half of the movie. At times, I found myself laughing just because I knew I was supposed to and the humor and crudeness felt forced. 

Overall, Deadpool 2 is a fun, fun movie that poses some important questions about morality and makes commentary on aspects of society. Ryan Reynolds not only starred in but was also one of the writers and producers of this movie, and his talent shines throughout the entire 1hr and 59min of it. I’m proud of him, and I’m sure Deadpool is too.

Rating: 4.5 Caramel Popcorn Pieces 

[ryqoshay]

What are yours and your /favorite/ nicomaki headcanons?

My favorite NicoMaki headcanons? Hrm… where to begin…? Imean I’ve explored quite a few already in HtHaN. Am I allowed to include those,or should I stick to ones I haven’t covered yet? Maybe both? Yeah, I’ll doboth.

Anyway, probably one of my biggest headcanons is that thingsseldom go as planned. This is based partly because both girls are bumbling foolswhen it comes to love, though good luck getting either to admit it, or evenrealize it in Maki’s case; Nico fancies herself a romantic and is more likelyto have grandiose plans. But the idea is also steeped a bit in reality, as manyin my family have plaques that read along the lines of “Life is about how youhandle Plan B” and a running joke is that we need to add “or Plan C, or Plan D,or…”

That said, Plan A failing is a theme I’ve tried to carryinto HtHaN. Spoilers for anyone who hasn’t read The Proposal story arc, butNico certainly had big plans, most of which did not come to pass. However, atthe end of it all, she realizes that what is far more important to her is thefact that she and Maki are engaged and Maki is happy; the details of how it allhappened just don’t matter when compared to that. I’m also currently collectingnotes for the shenanigans that will occur during the wedding, the honeymoon andall of the events that lead up to the big day, so spoiler warning, not muchwill not go off without a hitch or two, or three…

Mind you, I can’t help giving the two a break every now andagain and allow things to go as planned. Spoilers for How to Celebrate a Maki,but not much went off script there. But while things going as planned is fineevery so often, where’s the fun in a story if absolutely everything goesperfect for the characters?

One thing I have noticed in the LL universe is that of theeye colors we have seen, the mothers seem to have all passed down theirs totheir daughters, and son in the Yazawa family. This got me thinking about theeye color of a child born to Nico and Maki. Would she take the Yazawa crimsonor the Nishikino amethyst? Honestly, I am leaning towards red, as both theYazawa and the Takami families have proven it to be quite the dominate genethrough multiple children. So, I guess if I ever end up writing scenes thattake place after the numbered set in the HtHaN timeline, any daughters are morelikely going to end up with red eyes. Hrm… I should probably make sure that is inmy notes…

Another favored headcanon of mine that should be painfullyobvious to anyone who has read even just two or three scenes of HtHaN is thatNico thoroughly enjoys teasing Maki, because a flustered Maki is an adorableMaki; not to say she isn’t adorable elsewise, of course. However, on rereadingsome of my own work, I have come to realize that the teasing I have portrayedthus far is fairly heavily on Nico’s side. That said, I do still headcanon thatMaki enjoys teasing Nico in return. So, I guess I’ll have to include more ofthat at some point.

And sometimes the teasing goes a bit too far which leads tobickering or fighting. This is by no means a groundbreaking headcanon for thepair and has been explored in what I would estimate to be at least 95% of the NicoMakifics out there. However, it remains one of my favorite aspects of the volatile pair.And while some fans bemoan the aspect as being unrealistic and “not howrelationships work,” I must vehemently disagree; I’ve seen it work in real life,many, many times. As the two push against the other’s boundaries, they learnmore about them. And by bickering over trivial things, they form a bond oftrust that will hold strong when life throws more important things at them overwhich they may disagree.

Both Nico and Maki are two prideful and stubborn individualsthat come from vastly different upbringings; it is only natural they butt headsevery now and again. However, they both see in the other something they admire,envy, wish to emulate or simply enjoy. They also recognize, be it consciously orunconsciously, that their relationship will take effort and believe that thepositives will outweigh the negatives.

And from the fights spawns a bit of a quirky headcanon ofmine; the trope Insult of Endearment. For whatever reason, I’ve always likedthe idea of insults being used affectionately in a couple. And while the canonmaterial has given me nicknames for my YohaRiko pairing in HL, the µ’s side ofthings has really only given us a Maki who uses -chan with Nico exclusively anda Nico who does the same with Maki, though a bit more sporadically – pre-animematerial occasionally contradicts this, but Characterization Marches On. Assuch this left me free to come up with something for HtHaN. And while Nico’slater use of “Dear” is a certainly more in line with common terms ofendearment, Maki’s “Idiot” is unquestionably on the side of the affectionateinsult.

Wow, this is ending up almost as long as some of my scenesand I’ve only listed a few… so maybe just a few quick ones with shameless self-promotinglinks to the scenes in which I’ve included them? Maki is a lightweight when itcomes to drinking, and remains one throughout. Maki will resort to living like astereotypical bachelor when Nico isn’t around. The couple can bicker and makeup spontaneously. And finally, Maki isn’t good with kids, but Nico is. I wishto further explore all of these headcanons as I continue to write scenes forHtHaN.

Finally, there are the headcanons that are a bit morechallenging to explore while keeping HtHaN mostly a K/G and T rated fic – The Incidentnotwithstanding – and that is physical intimacy in the relationship. I have abacklog of notes on this topic, yet no driving desire to write about them in anygraphic detail. The keyword there being driving, as sure, the desire exists,just not a very strong one. There are things I would like my readers tounderstand about the couple, but the last thing I want is for HtHaN to becomesmutty. Happy fluffy NicoMaki is my favorite NicoMaki and that is how I wouldprefer HtHaN to remain – again, The Incident notwithstanding. That said, asanyone who has read scenes from Consolation Prize onward would know, I am notabove implicit implications that intimacy occurs offscreen, frequently.

One of my headcanons along these lines is that despite Nico’sbravado about being the cutest girl on the planet, she actually has a fairlylow view of herself when it comes to being sexually attractive. Combine thiswith Maki’s self-conscious reluctance to pursue anything beyond hugging and kissingand things are quite awkward for a while. Eventually, Nico comes to realizethat Maki is indeed attracted to her, but even years later, she gets a smallrush of joy when Maki says or does something to remind her of this fact.Eventually, Maki is able to move past her shyness, though really, only behind closeddoors, but progress is progress.

I also headcanon Maki as having a higher drive than Nico. Isee her as growing up fairly naïve to most things sexual, beyond the cold,scientific knowledge needed for pursuing a career in the medical field. As abit of a late bloomer, she initially chalks it up as trying to “make up forlost time” but eventually realizes she just has a strong drive. And as for Nico,she absolutely loves knowing she has such an effect on Maki, even if it doesexhaust her from time to time. Honestly, I think noelclover put it best in thispost with the whole “Touching Nico feels good -> I like feeling good -> Ishould touch Nico more” thing. That really sums up my NicoMaki intimacy headcanonsquite well.

Actually, the more I think about it, perhaps I can include allof this in a scene after all. I’ve kinda sorta opened the door for such a scenewith where I left off in HtHaN 6. Perhaps 7 will be either Nico or Maki, or both,looking back on the development of the intimate side of their relationship. Thatmight be a way for me to include my ideas in the story without actually goinginto detail on anything.

Huh… That did end up being longer than some of my scenes… Que zura, zura.

[alphabees-writes]

Glee - S1 E2 (Showmance)

Mama Mia, here I go again!

Please don’t tell me this GROWN MAN had his license plate changed to “GLEE” to reflect the high school club he runs. PLEASE.

Rachel brings a whole-ass SUITCASE to school? I know she’s extra by nature but PLEASE.

Finn just Doesn’t Know What Things Are! I adore him. 

You’re really just going to walk by Kurt hanging out by the dumpster with a bunch of dudes who harass him in the hallways? AGAIN? Nice one.

“One day, you will all work for me” I doubt these guys are going to be working up the ranks at Vogue.com, Kurt, but I rate the energy.

Emma you’re better than this dude. Run. Run as fast as your hollow bird pelvis will let you.

SANTANA’S FIRST LINE!!! You’re right, they should get a room. 

For all the creepy obsessing Will’s done so far over the glee kids, you’d think HE would be the one to notice how they don’t have enough members to qualify

Sue points out a bunch of special ed classes, and yet I’m pretty sure she says McKinley has no real support available for special needs students later on? They must be whack classes

These people are really acting like all Will does is coach the glee kids even though he’s literally a Spanish teacher

Early Quinn may be incredibly mean, but like, I’d say thanks if she killed me 

Rachel really has a whole spare outfit ready to change in to post-slushying? I guess that makes sense if it happens that regularly

Cory Monteith REALLY couldn’t dance and we love him for it

Disco didn’t suck until Mr Schue got his grubby little mitts on it

I almost forgot about Kurt’s selection of hats. What is this one? A fez? It’s fez shaped

Why is Kurt so sure they’ll throw fruit specifically? Is that McKinley asshole custom?

Terri’s actress, once again nailing the act of making me want to throttle her

Kendra also nails that.

A “used” house oh my god

THIS ARGUMENT BETWEEN KURT AND MERCEDES IS GOLDEN. “You need to call me before you dress yourself. You loo like a technicolor zebra.” They REALLY match. God I hope they ad-libbed that.

It’s the first rap of the show, folks. 

I hate Mr Schue doing Kanye, I really do, but imagine Finn doing it instead like he planned. Better? Worse? I can’t even tell anymore. 

The LOOK Kurt gives Mercedes when she starts belting out the Jamie Foxx part... Don’t be jealous hon you’ll get your bars. For real though his face is hilarious, he looks like he’s worried she’s about to burst a blood vessel with all that TALENT

Sign #5 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Get your hands OFF of Kurt Will Schuester he doesn’t want to dance! Tbh though I love season 1 Kurt during the group numbers because he just always looks SO done.

Mr Schue’s also wearing a T-shirt that says “DITCH PLANS” on it. Please DITCH the state instead?

KEVIN MCHALE IS THE UNSUNG VOCAL HERO OF THIS WHOLE SHOW AND I WILL NEVER LET ANYBODY FORGET IT

Watching them all sing in a goofy, candid way is honestly healing. 

KURT’S DOING THE SINGLE LADIES RING-HAND MOVE IN THE BACKGROUND THIS BOY REALLY LOVES HIS BEY. Me too Kurt me too

They straight up gave Rachel no gag reflex and had her guidance counsellor make a joke about it? Ok RIB

“Have you ever liked somebody so much you just want to lock yourself in your room, turn on sad music and cry?” Same girl, same

AAAaaaAAALllLlLLLLLlll BYYYYY MYYY SEEEEeeeEEEEEEEELFFFF.........bY mYsEeElF i’M bY mYsElF

Ok I like Emma but she sometimes kinda sucks at her job

“He doesn’t even notice me” Rachel, hon, he’s probably already warned his neighbours about you

“Gay parents encourage rebellion” PICK A SIDE, SUE! I really can’t keep up with the convenient flip-flopping of her bigotry. And with Jean, you’d think she’d go off on Rachel for calling people “chromosonally-challenged”

Finn, of course you know who Justin Timberlake is... That’s Mr Schue’s hotter, less evil twin!

I love how they have to label Robin Thicke on the poster - you know, because of how awful and irrelevant he was even then?

Half the janitors are just gone. How has this school not been closed down already?

Sign #6 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Mr Schue: I want to build a club where people can express themselves musically Literally every single member: Hello Mr Schue, I’m here to express how much I dislike the music you’re making us perform. Mr Schue: Never talk to me or my fake-unborn-son ever again

Humble, modest Finn going d’aww shucks and telling Rachel to stop complimenting him is adorable. I love him!!!

How could I forget the celibacy club... I almost feel bad for Quinn, he’ like the only person there who genuinely cares about being celibate. I don’t buy that anybody’s convinced that Puck’s a virgin...

The fact that Finn thought joining the celibacy club would get him laid is just... Yeah. It suits him. 

Jacob Ben Israel you will die by my hand you slimy, unforgivable bastard. NOBODY IS OBLIGATED TO GET YOUR DINGER WET, SCUMBAG! Short skirts are not an entitlement!!!

I still don’t know what Puck means when he says “Those skirts are crunchy toast” and I don’t think I want to know.

OH GOD T H E M A I L M A N . . .

Finn Hudson has canonically nearly killed a man and I don’t think anybody talks about that enough.

I beg all of you to look up this scene and listen to the way Finn goes “Ahahaha... Driving’s fun...” Like it just brings me so much joy. What a doofus. 

Carole’s first instinct is to yell “OH MY GOD YOU’VE KILLED HIM WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?!” Calm down queen he’s gon be fine

Quinn really hates contraception, huh!

I know your wife is a shit, Mr Schue, but it’s fucking reprehensible to lead on another woman. It’s clearly intentional at this point I’m sorry, you don’t put chalk dust on somebody’s nose like that platonically!

Rachel: We’re going to give them what they want! Kurt: Blood? God I love him

I do love the running gag of Figgins wildly overestimating the excitement for the assemblies tbh

This school doesn’t have working toilets but, hey, on the bright side, all you have to do to get expelled is shit yourself!

“Yay, Glee! Glee kids hooray!” Emma just warms my cockles

Will referring to the glee club and saying “We’re on our way back” like no, old man, you’re not getting clout for this. Then again, neither are any of the students until they’ve graduated...

AHH, PUSH IT! KURT’S HIPS. LOOK AT THEM GO. HE’S SO INTO IT.

I WANT THE FACE SUE MAKES WHEN SHE SEES FIGGINS TAPPING HIS FOOT TATTOOED ON MY HEART

Finn’s face as he gets ready to start his part... He’s so nervous. Bless him...

THE PERFECT TIMING OF KURT SLAPPING HIS ASS. And then the zoom on that fucking fanny pack going crazy this scene is so fucking iconic. That fanny pack has been burned into my retinas forever. 

AND THE WAY HE WOBBLES HIS HEAD AROUND AS HE STEPS BACK. KURT! FUCKING! HUMMEL!

Oh god, now he’s crawling across the floor to Mercedes. I can’t tear my eyes away he’s GOING for it!

They really had Finn and Rachel go that hard? Honestly up until that point, the routine isn’t too overtly sexual, but now I understand why they get in trouble 

I DON’T GET HOW THEY’RE STILL LOOKED DOWN ON AFTER THIS PERFORMANCE! Nearly everybody applauds! RIB just had to have that cake and eat it too. 

I demand Will’s resignation too, Sue

Ah, the approved songs list... That they will proceed to ignore for the rest of the season post the Unholy Trinity’s audition

Sign #7 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: He has NO PLACE to be mad at Rachel here. You didn’t listen to any of your students, you wouldn’t compromise, and now they’re going on a sex riot. You did this!

Ken Tanaka you cannot undermine a woman’s self esteem and convince her to settle for you as a second choice, and then complain about feeling like a second choice... WHY do they ever act like he’s a victim here?!

Finn saw that whole-ass picnic set up and didn’t think to ask about it? King. I love one (1) himbo. The way he says “You’re cool, Rachel” just fucks me up every time...

She pours him the TINIEST drink in the world? Girl the cups not even a tenth full and he’s a big boy...

The real OTP is Finn x Airplane Cups

Why does Rachel lie down for the kiss... Is it solely so Finn can have his little overflow at the mayo factory or???

THE MAILMAN SCENE HAPPENS EVERY TIME HE KA-BLAMOS OH MY GOD HOW DID I FORGET...

Look, Rachel, I get that it sucks that he ran away, but he literally has a girlfriend? You couldn’t have expected things to go that well...

THE UNHOLY TRINITY FORMS... I’M QUAKING

Throwback to how blatantly obvious it was that Santana and Quinn weren’t singing at all. How did they think they’d get away with that...

Brittany’s original sideswept bangs? Ugh. Giving me LIFE.

Dianna’s voice turned me gay. I’m genuinely convinced my sexuality is Quinn Fabray’s fault and I’m not even mad?

By this point we know next to nothing about Santana’s character, but the second Sue suggests sabotage, her face fucking lights up. She’s living for it already 10/10

Will you can’t make Emma tag along to all your janitorial shifts I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re married. And a jackass. 

I know Rachel went behind his back, but there’s no real reason to give Quinn the Don’t Stop Believing solo? She’s talented and incredible and I love her, sure, but it doesn’t suit her voice at all my guy, if you didn’t have biscuits for ears you’d know that...

Is this the only instance where Will takes actual responsibility for the glee club’s actions rather than blaming it all on the kids? Wow... A rare gem.

The way he says “I should never have pushed disco so hard...” All serious like... Get a fucking grip

I can believe that Rachel’s neighbours would sue her for singing all the god damn time

Rachel singing “Take A Bow” is more fitting than I realised. At first I was like, “that’s dumb, Finn doesn’t really realise what he did anyway” but it fits her character to use a song and spin it so she feels empowered by it in the end. Or at least, tries to feel that way.

So there’s episode 2! What a hot mess. We love our hot mess.

[appleskirts]

Ephemeral Prince left me totally wrecked. I know I’m extremely late to the fandom but I just had to do something for these two. I couldn’t stop thinking about how a confession scene would’ve gone so I had to get this out of my system. 

After everything that happened, Snowe and Erio haven’t talked about the tension and feelings between them. Snowe breaks the silence.

Also posted on AO3 here!

--

The thing about second chances (or maybe in this scenario it’s the third) is its continued fight against fear. Being given another chance doesn’t necessarily allow one the courage to make another choice after the first wrong decision. Humans (even humans bestowed with the powers of the universe) are fractured creatures given to anxieties. Even if we know the predicted outcome, we still can’t possibly know the consequences of the better choice. Snowe has lived and died and suffered and come out like a phoenix from the fire. But he’s still human. And in an effort to avoid confrontation and in an effort to maintain that happiness he had fought so hard for, he hesitated.

Maybe we’re starting too early. Let’s start with this: it began with the letter from Astra.

Looking back on it, Snowe wonders if Astra knew. They were so close now it’s hard to imagine she didn’t pick up on something, but it was also incredibly embarrassing for him to know that it was so obvious to a third party. He chalks it up to the fact that she was so level headed and gutsy. She wasn’t someone to let something linger for so long.

Richard had come back from the school one evening with a letter from Astra. Snowe had looked up from River’s crib, placing her gently back down, before he took it. She said she and Erio needed his help sorting through the apothecary stock tomorrow. Nothing too serious, it was just the by product of working and not keeping up with day to day organizing. Snowe thought it was weird she didn’t just come by to ask, but he had brushed it off. Besides, he was partially thankful she was going to be there too anyway.

An aside; Snowe wasn’t uncomfortable around Erio. At least, he didn’t mean to be. But lately, ever since everything’s been dying down, he’s begun to reflect on their past adventure. He was less prone to moments of angst now, but there was still an unanswered question he had never gotten back to. Some tension that was never revisited and even now was being blatantly ignored. Even now Snowe didn’t dwell on it. He merely folded the letter and thanked Richard. That night, after dinner, he had tossed and turned in his bed with the same anxieties revisiting him, buzzing in his mind. He can clearly remember the amber glow of alcohol in candle light, his biological father sitting across from him. That glass had been so cold, but the drink had burned in his throat. What had he said? Even now the words echoed through his mind, settling throughout his body, a resolve that burned in his blood.

Life is meant to be on your own terms. It’s far too short so you owe it to yourself to make it what you want.

Snowe knew damn well now that life was short. He knew damn well just how fragile it could be. From his own death and from everyone’s around him, death had been a constant that made itself no mystery to him. It was cruel and quick, and in the end, necessary. He absentmindedly brushed his fingers against the blue markings on his forehead. He wondered how much longer his life was now because of the Crown. In the end, maybe it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was being a coward.

There were so many moments he had back then. So many times when death was breathing down his neck and Erio was right there. There were so many times he could’ve said it, but he never did. Even with his life was at risk, he didn’t try to make a move. He would’ve rather died with his regrets. Snowe has always been that sort of person.

So what did it take? What had to happen for him to finally just stop giving a damn and tell him? If it wasn’t death, then was it the promise of life? The very promise that there would be a tomorrow? What he had now?

If so why did he still hesitate?

That night Snowe fell into a restless sleep, with vague images of a dream flitting through his mind. Sloppy kisses and burns and a heart on the edge of bursting. Missed chances. Defeated resignation. And then, finally, a heartfelt and strong love.

--

When Snowe got to the apothecary the next day, he found the signed turned signalling the store was closed. He guessed they started without him, and went through the back door with the key he was given a long time ago. However even in the backroom, no one was there. (Even more worrisome was that the stock was neatly organized without anything remiss). Confused, he made his way to the counter and a letter sat there addressed to him. He read it.

Hey Snowe,

Sorry something came up. Hiante needs my help training the town’s mages. Won’t be home until later tonight. Could you keep an eye on Erio for us? He had a long night.

Thanks!

Astra

Instantly, Snowe feels his heart race. It all dawns on him that this was more then likely a ploy. He turns the letter over and finding no mention of organizing the stock he sighs.

She got me. He realized.

He casts a nervous glance to the stairs leading up to their rooms. The home was quiet, save for the distant sounds of Aldcoast teeming with life. The sound of people chatting and walking, the sound of creaking wagon wheels. The faint sound of waves crashing on the shore. A clock ticked on in the shop, rhythmic and daunting. Snowe could leave. He looked down at the letter and felt his heart pounding in his chest. He hasn’t been left alone with Erio since he washed up on the shore with Xiri. Every time someone else had been there with them.

He really could leave.

He feels like he should.

He places the letter back down. He reasons with himself.

He’s just checking in on him. It’s nothing so serious, he told himself. He can be in and out and honestly it’s nothing major. After all, wasn’t it just him?

Weren’t they all family?

Snowe ascends the stairs, each creaking with his weight.

Knots are tangling themselves in his stomach and he keeps trying to quell that anxiety. He finds no one in their living room however. It was a cozy, lived in space, warm and inviting. On the couch he finds a cloak thrown haphazard on it, on the wall is a board listing the chores that need to be done. When he finally looks over he finds the door to Erio’s bedroom open.

“Erio?”

No response. Snowe peeks in and for a moment, his heart warms.

The first thing of notice were the books scattered around his room. Dark tomes, written in words Snowe barely recognized stacked on the desk and built in towers on the floor. Next was the mug of coffee sitting cold on the desk, half-drunk and mostly forgotten. Finally, was Erio. Curled up on his bed, his sheets a mess, his breathing even. Asleep.

Snowe wishes his heart wasn’t beating so fast. There was no reason for it to. He had seen him asleep plenty of times and this really wasn’t any different. He cranes over and examines him a bit. His hair was slightly mussed from tossing and turning, but altogether he seemed peaceful. Snowe wondered if he should wake him, but he decided against it. If all Erio was doing was taking a nap, then he was fine. Snowe had done his part and he didn’t have to be left alone with him or anything. This was an out. So Snowe just pulled the sheets back over his shoulders, and made way for the exit.

“Astra?”

Snowe froze. The voice had been sleepy but familiar. There was a shuffling of sheets and Snowe sighed inwardly. Of course it wasn’t that easy.

“Sorry,” he laughed awkwardly, “Just me.”

Turning around he found Erio turned toward him, drowsy and confused. Snowe always thought it was funny how no matter what emotion the demon showed it always had a tinge of annoyance to it.

“Snowe?” He asked, yawning, “What are you doing here?”

“Astra said you needed my help in the shop. Organizing the stock?”

Erio furrowed his brows, frowning. “The stock’s fine, I don’t need anything like that.”

So I was right, Snowe cringed. If anything, he has to hand it to Astra. She was good.

“Where is she anyway?” Erio asked, stretching. Snowe tried his best not to look directly at him.

“She left a note saying she was going to be out with Hiante today. They’re training the soldiers.”

“I do remember them mentioning that.” Erio mumbled to himself. “So why’d she ask you to come here?”

Snowe, three steps ahead and already piecing together Astra’s planned, lied. “You’re guess is as good as mine.” He laughed, “She did mention she wanted me to check up on you though.”

Snowe looked back around the room, messy and mismatched. “What happened anyway? You don’t usually sleep in this late.”

“I visited my mother yesterday.” Erio explained, “She was taking me through the demon’s library and lent me all these apothecary books she wrote. I lost track of time studying them last night. I decided to close shop to catch up on my sleep.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, it’s probably best you did that. I don’t think your people skills get any better when you’re half asleep.” Snowe joked. When Erio shot him a look, Snowe ended up laughing. With the topics of explanation died down, the mood of the room grew awkward. With all conversation gone, the same feeling of nervousness settled back into Snowe. It was just them. If he stayed any longer, he knew the things they hadn’t addressed were going to come up sooner or later. There weren’t any more distractions to hide behind.

“S-So,” Snowe quickly said, “You’re just going back to sleep? I can leave if you want.”

Erio flopped back, sighing deeply. He shrugged.

“It’s up to you. I don’t mind you being here.”

And with that, Snowe’s heart jumped to his throat. He knew for a fact Erio didn’t hate him. It had just been so long since he had been given an invitation. Snowe found himself at a crossroads; he still had an out. He could go and he could continue with what they already had. Just living this peaceful life and ignoring whatever they had during that journey. All that tension can die down and they can just keep living as family, as what-could’ve-been, as a flower not allowed its chance to bloom. It was a safe route. It was certainly the easiest one.

But Snowe has been on death’s door. Snowe has granted life and he has helped save the world. He is someone who tore the world asunder and faced danger to give back to those he loved.

With all else said and done, when Soan had given him that advice, why was his drunken and impulsive choice to go after Erio? With all the world at his back and his life a tenuous thread ready to break, he had chosen in that moment to only stumble into a bedroom and messily kiss a boy who understood him.

Didn’t that mean something?

“Can I sleep with you?”

Erio’s eyes shot open, his cheeks scarlet.

“Wh-What?” He sputtered out. Snowe, coming back to his senses, also felt his face heat up.

“I-I mean like. Can I take a nap with you?”

“Are you having trouble sleeping again?” Erio blinked.

“No.” Snowe looked away, “I don’t need help with dreams or anything like that. I’m not tired. I just...I just think it’d be nice.”

The sentence hung between them, heavy with meaning. Honest actions are scary without a pretense to cushion their intentions. In these months they had been content seeing each other with various excuses and obstacles between them. Whether it was with another person present or with a reason to be there. But now there was nothing in between them but a sincere atmosphere and plenty of room to talk. Snowe had made his move and he braced himself for some kind of prickly answer, some kind of joke to undermine the message. Neither of these came. Instead after a moment of consideration, Erio lifted the sheets and scooted over.

“Go ahead.”

Snowe felt breath catch in his throat. Quickly he complied, shedding himself of his cloak and boots. Afterwards he slipped under the sheets and settled in. The sheets smelled of Erio, like the spices he used in his blends. They were still warm and cozy, and outside some birds were chirping. Still in the distance was the sound of the ocean, calming and constant. Snowe felt himself relax, and the butterflies in his stomach didn’t feel like an annoyance, but a blessing. Scary but exciting. They watched each other for awhile, and it was Erio who looked away first, laughing.

“When Astra said to check up on me I don’t think it was an excuse for you to laze around.” He jokingly accused. Snowe blushed.

“I-It’s not like that! I mean, I didn’t have anything else planned for today.”

“I guess you’ve earned it.” Erio shrugged. He looked back to Snowe, and reached for the blue markings on his face. He absent-mindedly traced them with his finger and Snowe felt himself blush.

“It’s still hard to believe.” Erio confessed, “After everything that’s happened.”

Snowe found in the back of his mind that he missed this. This coziness, this chatter. He really had nothing to be afraid of. So he let all the anxieties he held in his body just melt away.

“It’s nice right? To have peaceful days like this?” He whispered. Erio nodded and dropped his hand to his side.

“So you’re not feeling lazy; you’re feeling sappy.” Erio teased.

“Y-You don’t have to say it like that!” Snowe frowned as Erio laughed. He half wondered if he should playfully hit him with the pillow, but he decided against it. It’d be a losing battle either way.

“This feels nostalgic though, don’t you think?” Snowe kept going, “I mean when was the last time we did something like this?”

Erio blinks, and looks up at the ceiling. “I guess when we were traveling. It’s been awhile.”

They laid there in silence, just soaking in the moment. Snowe wanted the conversation to keep going and so he searched his mind for topics, anything to buy him time.

“Hey, do demons dream?” He asked, “I mean, like, I knew Xiri did but I don’t know if that was just because of me or because he’s the King of Dreams or-”

“Snowe, why are you here?”

Snowe widened his eyes, shocked at the interruption. Erio turned his head to look at him, his eyes serious. But he should’ve known by now; he could never hide anything from him.

“Wh-What do you mean?”

“You’re acting strange.” Erio stated, matter of fact, “You’re bringing up the past. Why did you come here?”

“Th-The letter.”

“No. Why did you stay?”

Snowe gulped and looked down. Of course Erio wasn’t the type for small talk; if there was something that needed to be said he got to the point. While Snowe didn’t hate this about him, he knew he could never fight against it. He sighed.

“Is it bad that I’m here?”

“No. But I know there’s something bothering you.” He turned over to him, giving him his full attention. “You know you can tell me.”

Snowe knows that full well. He wonders if there were any secrets of his Erio didn’t know. And even most of all, he was happy to share them with him. The hardships they had faced together had brought them so close, but Snowe is still hesitant. While everything else had been personal (worries and dreams he didn’t mind confiding) this was different. This was directly tied to him and he had no idea how he’d respond.

Snowe closes his eyes. It was so weird; he had healed the world and he had faced death and yet somehow this moment felt so daunting in comparison.

“You said,” Snowe breathes, “we’d talk about it when everything was over.”

When he opened his eyes, Erio looked confused.

“Talk about what?”

“...Us.”

Then it dawned on him. Snowe had expected him to respond with a serious look, but he was surprised to find Erio look embarrassed. A little surprised himself. Maybe he hadn’t expected Snowe to be the first one to bring it up. Snowe was pretty shocked at himself too, but the moment was here and life was still so short. It felt like a weight was on his chest, a heaviness that weighed him down. Snowe took in a deep breath and sat up.

“Look, just,” He exhaled, “Just hear me out ok? When I’m done you can tell me what you think. But right now, is it ok if I just...tell you?”

Looking back he found Erio still speechless. But he slowly nodded and Snowe took this as an ok. He wondered if he could do this while looking at him, but finding it entirely too embarrassing he turned back around. Instead he confessed all his feelings to the wall, shy but free.

“I don’t know when exactly it happened. I just know I had fallen in love with you.” He began. “I guess with everything that was happening I couldn’t really name it, but I just knew I was so grateful to have you there. At first I thought ‘maybe I’m just lonely’. Like, because of the stress I just thought I was in love. I just wanted someone to spoil me because I was so scared and lonely and afraid.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I felt terrible. Not only was I using you because you were warm and because you could help with my dreams, but now I was forcing all these fake feelings on you.”

“You weren’t using me-”

“No, I know.” Snowe put a hand up. “This is just how I felt back then. I began to wonder if I was just doing stupid stuff because of the pressure or because I really did like you. Not to mention, I had no idea how you felt. Back then, I thought it was all pity. I thought if I told you anything you’d just be nice out of that same pity.”

Snowe was quiet. He leaned over, putting his face in his hands. His heart was thumping madly, his knees were shaking. He wanted to back out. But now that everything was out there he knew he couldn’t take any of it back, so he decided to just keep going forward. The opportunity to run away was gone. He had to see this through.

“So I guess I just...waited. I mean, I slipped up in Aslan. I’m still really sorry for that. I just told myself to keep it in. Like, maybe when all of this is over and I finally fixed everything it’d go away.”

A pause. Uneven breathing. The tension hung between them heavy and apparent. Snowe sniffled.

“But it never did.” He finally said, “It’s still here.”

Snowe blinked away tears. It was hard to finally say it outloud not only to himself, but also to Erio. Snowe’s not sure what he felt then; like a weight was off him maybe. Relief of some kind. He closes his eyes and sprints to the end.

“I was really happy you were there for me. You saw me at my worst and you kept being there. And I know it’s weird to say, but I was happy to be there for you too. Not because I was paying you back but, just...I wanted you to be okay too. I was happy when you were happy.”

And he was done. Snowe looks down at his shaking hands, tracing the edges of his fingers with his eyes. He could still remember the time they were burnt, the very pain each movement had. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night in a panic, running his hands over his body, looking for burns or scars or broken limbs. Some phantom pain that stuck to his mind which had its own healing to do. But right now, looking at his hands, he knew that with everything he had gone through, he was still so happy Erio had been there. He knew this love wasn’t fleeting. And now, finally being able to confess it, he laughed softly.

“I don’t...I don’t expect you to return my feelings. It’s...It’s ok if you don’t. I don’t want to make things awkward for us.” He finished shakily, “But if you don’t like me, all I ask is that we stay friends. You guys really mean so much to me.”

Silence settled in at the end of that sentence. A heavy atmosphere kept weighing in the room, some emotional build up ready to burst. Snowe gulped and willed up the courage to finally turn around to look at Erio. He doesn’t know what he was expecting; at this point he just wants a response.

Snowe had heard the term breath-taken before. He’d never seen such a perfect example of it.

Erio was sitting up now, his eyes wide, his cheeks the most flushed Snowe had ever seen. It was sweet, how honest the response was. When Snowe caught his gaze, Erio instantly looked down, shy and confused. At first Erio began to say something but then closed his mouth. He was thinking hard, Snowe could see that.

“...How am I supposed to respond to something like that?” Erio finally muttered in some weak attempt at sarcasm. Snowe couldn’t help at laugh.

“Sorry? Was it too heavy?”

“No, I…” Erio paused. He opened his mouth to say something again but then stopped. He pursed his lips and frowned and tried again but thought better of it. Finally he furrowed his brows and sighed heavily.

“Look, just,” Erio finally said, frustrated, reaching over “Just come here.”

Snowe jumped when he felt hands grab his shoulders and he was taken off guard when he was pulled over. Erio pulled him into a kiss, and Snowe felt his heart leap and do somersaults and his knees went weak.

In the back of his mind, he lovingly thought to himself This is so like you.

When they parted, it took them a moment to get back their bearings. Erio looked away, embarrassed.

“I was just...I was just so tired of us dancing around it.”

Snowe lightly nodded but he wondered if he even needed to. Instead the realization was slowly coming to him, the fact that Erio was returning his feelings. He smiled. He laughed.

“W-What?!” Erio asked, defensive. Snowe shook his head.

“No. I’m just really happy.” He began to tear up, “Really, really happy.”

He brought a hand to his mouth, emotions washing over him. He looked down and cried, smiling. He heard Erio sigh as he brought him into a hug.

“You really are so sappy.” He lightly chided, and it made Snowe’s heart warm.

“Why me?” Snowe asked, muffled from where he was cushioned against Erio’s chest.

“What?”

“Y-You haven’t said it yet. Why me?”

Snowe wondered what face Erio was making, but he was sure he had a good idea. He shifted, still holding Snowe close, and let out another sigh.

“I don’t know. Maybe I have a thing for plucky blonds who like to get themselves into trouble.”

Snowe laughed. He felt Erio rub his back and leaned against him.

“I think you’re strong.” Erio confessed, “I think you’re kind. I think you’re the bravest person I know. You just kept going. And you stumbled, but that’s normal. I just...I just wanted you to be happy too. And it just...happened.”

And maybe that was the beauty of it all. Maybe this was what they always had. A slow gradual build up, a rightfully earned happy ending. They knew each other and rather than rushing into it, instead they stumbled together. Unplanned, unpredictable, but not wholly unexpected. It felt right. It felt like finally coming home.

“...I love you, too.” Snowe replied. He felt Erio tense up, and it brought a smile to his lips. He wiggled out of Erio’s hold in order to get a good look at his face. However, the demon had covered his blushing face, mortified.

“Hey, come on,” Snowe teased, “I want to see.”

“I don’t know where you’re getting all this bravado.” Erio grumbled. He flinched when he felt Snowe try to move his hands, and he playfully fought against him. Snowe continued to pester him, asking him to let him see his face. When Erio finally relented, a blushing mess of a demon, Snowe went with his impulses again. He leaned over and kissed him again, and he felt Erio tense once more. But slowly he relaxed and leaned into it. It was nice, Snowe thought. The kiss made the butterflies in his stomach flutter, it was a burst of energy running up his spine. When Snowe drew back they held each other’s gaze.

“You’re a better kisser when you’re sober.” Erio muttered. Snowe laughed again, and when he was pulled in for another kiss he didn’t fight it. They were starting to get into the rhythm of it.

“I have no idea why we took this long.” Snowe breathed when they parted.

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

Snowe answered him with another kiss. And another. Soon enough Snowe was surprised to find himself falling back, lying against the bed, Erio above him. He smiled and pulled him down. He could’ve swore he felt Erio smile against his lips, but he didn’t want to break this moment and point it out. He ran his fingers through his hair, holding him close, feeling his heat. Snowe’s head was spinning, he felt like he was floating. The world kept turning around him and it was beautiful and it was complete. Erio’s lips were warm and his contact was so sorely needed then. Vaguely, Snowe wondered if he could hear footsteps somewhere, the creaking of floorboards but he ignored it. He felt way too good right now. Absentmindedly he traced his hands towards Erio’s chest and tugged at the laces on his tunic. Erio stopped for a moment, and Snowe looked at him, wondering if he’d gone too far. He was about to ask Erio if he should stop but instead he felt a hand over his own, and Erio lightly nodded. He kissed him again, and with granted permission, Snowe began to undo the tie.

“Erio!” Astra called out, “Are you up yet? A soldier got hurt, I need something from the shop!”

The two startled but before they could move, Astra was already at the door. They both froze in place and Astra stopped too. She looked between them, and Snowe could tell her eyes were focusing on Erio’s exposed collar bone and Snowe’s searching hands. She blushed. But then she felt a giggle build up.

“Well,” she finally said. “It’s about time.”

“I-It’s not what it looks like.” Erio quickly defended, and Astra shook her head.

“No, no, it’s fine. Don’t let me interrupt. I’ll look for it myself.” She laughed and closed the bedroom door for them. By then Erio had already scrambled out of bed, trying to get to her so he could explain but she was already gone. Snowe was feeling reality crash down on him and any romantic fervor he had before had been brushed away by a strong mortification. Erio put his hands in his face and groaned loudly. Snowe looked over at him.

“Sh-Should we go explain?”

“I’d rather die right now.” Erio replied flatly.

“At least it saves us the trouble of telling everyone?” Snowe offered. Erio looked up with a horrible realization.

“Oh God, when my sister hears.” He stated, aghast. “When my sister hears.”

Snowe couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. Erio shot him a glare which only made him laugh more. The whole situation felt so ridiculous to him now after holding it in so long. In the end, the things he fought for were still here. Nothing had changed, but only shifted slightly.

Snowe, with a renewed confidence and high off his happiness, grabbed Erio’s wrist and pulled him back to the bed.

“Come on, we can tell them later.” He said softly. “You promised me a nap.”

“Is that all you want?” Erio accused. Snowe grinned, and pulled him in for a kiss. He wondered if after holding back for so long had broken a dam and made everything rush in one go. Maybe it didn’t matter. Slowly they fell back into place, a warm pile on the bed, kissing and talking and finally, indulging.

It had been a long journey here. It was a long journey that finally ended in clumsy confessions in a bedroom. But Snowe was happy to finally find himself here. They had more to talk about, sure. But now they finally had time, a guaranteed tomorrow. Instead of a rushed confession while on death’s door, what Snowe had was time. To work out the kinks, and to cherish the days, and to experience it together. They’d gone through hell and they’ve come out the other side. Complete and in love.

Snowe had sacrificed so much. Cuddled there in his arms, he was satisfied to finally know what it was like to want something for himself and to hold it so close.

--

The end! Thank you for reading!

[12redsky34]

Confused

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

FanFiction.net - This story

Hey guys! This is my first attempt at a mini-fic, but I hope I'm not too bad at it. It's been ages since I posted my first oneshot Cotton Candy (like three years or something… totally go check it out and see how terrible my writing was back then lol. Those of you reading this on tumblr will need to go to my fanfiction profile as it hasn’t been posted here unfortunately, nor do I plan on doing so) and this is kinda meant as a sort of continuation from that. I tried to make it so you don't have to read it to understand what's going on though. I think I used enough information that you, the readers, can fill in the blanks yourself if you so desire.

I'm planning on making this a two-shot, though if this gets enough support and enough people want it, I may add a third bonus chapter that will basically be all smut. You guys gotta leave them delicious reviews though! I always love seeing them!

I also feel I should thank @loadedeel for her all-knowing, wisdomous ways and giving me a fairly good idea how to get this thing going. After you're done here, if you haven't already read her fics, I think we would both like it if you checked out her profile and read some/all (preferably all) of her stories. They are truly magic in writing.

Anyway, enough from me. On to the fic!

Lucy was confused.

And not the kind of confused where a bit of research with a pair of gale-force reading glasses would solve all her problems, nor was it the kind that was one of those meaningless little questions that no one knew a definite answer to and a nice hot bath would wash all the questions away.

No, it was the kind of confusion where apparently no amount of research could give her a straight and/or reliable answer (she totally didn't do too much of it already) and it was far too important to her that a bath would make her forget about it.

What's the dilemma, you may ask? Lucy wasn't sure she really knew herself. Ever since the Alvarez Empire fell and things had settled down, especially after her novel had been published and awarded, she had noticed some changes in her partner and best friend.

Not the kind of changes that made him a completely different person. It was subtle little things. Well, that kiss he gave her at the last fair the guild went to (and almost destroyed, of course. Wasn't a Fairy Tail outing without a little destruction) was far from small in her opinion, but it had only happened once so far, and it was part of what was making her so confused.

But everything else was almost so unnoticeable that Lucy was afraid she was reading into things way too hard. Natsu still brawled almost every day with Gray or whoever else decided to tease or insult him, he still ate twice his weight in food, he still seemed to enjoy invading her fridge and sneaking into her bed when she wasn't looking and he still rifled through her drawers even though she had told him countless times to leave her belongings alone.

The subtle changes were in the way he sometimes behaved, mostly. Even before her award ceremony, she had noticed him mellow out ever so slightly. He seemed less restless, in a way, less eager to constantly be out on a job or searching for Igneel or trying to steal an S-class mission to occupy his time with. She didn't know what had prompted this change, but being able to relax a bit after all that had happened came as a blessing to her, and she welcomed it with open arms. She still needed to go on jobs for rent and grocery money, of course, but that was about it.

They also started having very peaceful, quiet moments together when Happy was out trying to win Carla's heart (she was only fooling herself turning away from the blue Exceed nowadays, literally everyone knew she liked him too) where Lucy would either be jotting down ideas for her next novel or reading a book curled up in bed, and Natsu would be there lounging on her bed or couch or sitting on the floor playing with his scarf or a little ball of his fire (she partnered a warning glare with promises that she would make him pay for any damage he caused to help ensure he wouldn't burn down the apartment building). These moments were calm and natural, and not nearly as weird or awkward as Lucy thought they should be.

The thing she was most confused about and afraid of reading into was how Natsu seemed to be touching her more often. And in the most innocent ways, mostly from how he would throw an arm around her shoulders or how he would grab her wrist when he wanted her to see something, or how he would lean against her whenever he was in a food coma from eating too much too fast. They always made physical contact like that, and was often teased for it, but recently it seemed like there was… More, somehow. More contact, more emotion, more… Everything. That wasn't even considering the kiss. She didn't feel like touching that right now.

Lucy didn't know what to make of it.

A part of her wanted to panic over her apparent findings, that perhaps Natsu liked her as more than a friend and was interested in her romantically, but she couldn't deny that she wanted a life with him at her side. Ever since they had met, he had burrowed his way into her life and stubbornly sat in the middle of it, refusing to go anywhere. And over time, she stopped disliking the idea of that. She couldn't imagine what it would be like without being able to see his stupid grin or his fiery, onyx eyes or his adorable pout when he was denied something he wanted. He was such a child in some ways, but at the same time, he was more mature than many other people she had known. He fought dark guilds for a living and pretty much had to grow up on his own without any blood parents or even Igneel to guide him as he matured, other than his friends at the guild. Though, knowing some of the more perverted members, she doubted they were a huge help.

Still, he was unique, and not what Lucy thought she wanted in a man, but she found she didn't mind. She always knew life wasn't a fairy tale, and after joining the guild, she came to learn that almost anything was possible with them. She was sure finding an unexpected love of her life was something they could manage. Well, it was something they had managed at that point, now that she thought about it.

"-u-chan..? Lu?"

But even with all this, she didn't know what to do! Natsu hadn't asked her out, nor had he kissed her again, which was the most worrying thing for her. Had he kissed her at the fair just to steal the cotton candy from her? Was it all just an elaborate prank? If he was interested in her, then surely he would have made another move… Right?

"Lucy!" Levy shouted, and the blonde jumped in her seat.

"S-Sorry Lev, what were you saying?" She apologised, smiling sheepishly at her blue-haired friend.

"You weren't listening to me at all, were you?" The Solid Script Mage commented dryly, a thin eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Uh…"

"Didn't think so." Levy giggled. "What were you thinking so hard about? It's like you weren't even here."

Lucy chuckled nervously. Knowing how overexcited her friends got as soon as they caught wind of something even remotely romantic happening between someone in the guild, she was hesitant to say what was really on her mind.

"Oh, nothing… Just thinking about a book I read last night." She replied. Levy narrowed her eyes at the blonde and she knew she had not been convincing whatsoever.

"You know you're a terrible liar, right Lu? Come on, tell me what's going on!" She pressed, leaning closer with wide eyes.

"Okay, okay fine…" Lucy relented. Knowing how the guild was, they would figure something out anyway. To be honest, she would rather they know what the actual problem was rather than make their own wildly incorrect assumptions. That always led to disaster. "It's… It's about Natsu…" She admitted, blushing. Levy gasped.

"Did he ask you out? Did you say yes?!" She almost screamed, and Lucy hurriedly shushed her, looking around to make sure nobody in the guild heard. Thankfully everyone seemed busy drinking, laughing or brawling.

"No, nothing like that…" She began, wondering how she should explain what the matter was to her best friend. She was normally so fluent with words that she rarely had any problems articulating herself, but the whole situation was complicated enough that she didn't even know where to begin. "It's just… I guess he's been acting… Different? Or something like that? I don't really know and I'm pretty sure I'm just reading into it too much-"

"No no, tell me what you think is different." Levy cut her off, and the blonde blinked. There was a glint in her friend's eyes she couldn't identify, and she seemed a little too eager to hear about her dilemma for it to be normal… Though she just chalked it up as the kind of Fairy Tail enthusiasm she expected anyway.

"Okay… Well, he seems less energetic than usual. He still fights and eats a lot and jokes around but he hasn't been dragging me on some job every other day - and it actually seems like I have to drag him on one sometimes - and we've been having really quiet periods where we hang out and do our own thing and just spend time together without anything crazy going on risking our lives, and… It feels unusual but also natural somehow. It's weird. I'm probably just being weird. I'm being weird, aren't I?"

"No, I think it's great!" Levy squealed. "It's so cute you two are having some quiet time together. Is there anything else bothering you?" Lucy flushed, remembering what was bothering her more than anything else.

"U-Uhm, well… You remember that fair we went to after my award ceremony?" Lucy began hesitantly.

"Lu… What happened that you didn't tell me about?" Levy narrowed her eyes accusingly at her best friend. The blonde squirmed in her seat and blushed harder.

"You remember when I said he stole a bag of cotton candy from me and I had to watch him for the rest of the day to make sure he didn't become a sugar rush monster or something?" She refused to meet Levy's eyes but saw her nod from her peripherals. "Well, to get the bag from me, he um, well… He may have kissed me?" Her voice cracked at the memory of the Dragon Slayer's warm, slightly chapped lips moving against hers, effectively rendering her mind blank at just the thought of it.

Levy squealed loudly, earning some glances their way but nothing more. Lucy had to shush her again.

"Levy, not so loud…" She complained.

"Sorry, sorry it's just… I'm so excited for you! Why didn't you tell me sooner?!"

"Because I-I thought he just wanted to get the cotton candy from me and it was just one of his stupid methods of getting his way and he hasn't made any other moves to kiss me or ask me out or anything since!" Lucy rushed out, realising she was more upset about the situation than she thought as she finally found the words to voice why she was confused. "I thought maybe he might be interested in me as more than friends, but… I don't know what to think anymore." She added slowly, lower lip wobbling slightly. Was she seriously about to cry over Natsu of all people?

"Oh, Lu, I'm sorry. I didn't realise that you were upset about that…" Levy apologised, trying to think of anything to say that would prevent her friend from crying. Including herself, there were many in the guild who would be all over the place looking for the reason behind her tears and vowing relentless retribution to any potential unlucky person stupid enough for making one of their favourite members cry. "Maybe he does like you but he doesn't know what to do about it? We all know he's oblivious to that kind of stuff…"

"Yeah, but… He's never kissed anyone before as far as I know and surely he'd know better… Right?" Lucy protested weakly. She didn't know what to believe at this point. She knew better than anyone that Natsu would do anything to get whatever he set his mind to. Maybe he just thought it was a good idea at the time. Maybe he would kiss anyone if he thought it would get him what he wanted. The thought only served to make her more upset. Now Lucy really wanted to curl up at home with a big bucket of ice cream and not think about this anymore. Anything to erase the image of the rose-haired male kissing someone other than her, and as possessive and selfish as it sounded, she didn't care.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it right now." Levy snapped suddenly, and Lucy blinked. She didn't notice that a couple tears had escaped her control, and she hurriedly wiped them away with a sleeve. Thankfully she had donned a pair of the long detached ones she liked to wear occasionally. "Look, I've more or less known Natsu since he was a kid, and he wouldn't just kiss someone randomly like that. Even if he doesn't like you the way you want him to, he definitely did it because he's only comfortable enough around you specifically to pull stunts like that. I've never seen him as close as anyone else than he has been with you."

"I guess…" Lucy agreed, albeit hesitantly.

"And anyway, maybe Natsu's in the same boat as you."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Think about it. If he kissed you, hoping to figure out if you were interested in him or not from your reaction, then if you didn't make any moves afterward, maybe he doesn't know what to do either. Maybe he's just as confused as you are."

Huh. Lucy didn't think about it like that. There was still one thing bothering her about that though.

"But he's so confident… Why would asking me out be any different?"

"Who knows." Levy shrugged, shaking her head. "Whatever he's thinking, Lucy… You mean a lot to him." The smaller Mage placed her hand over Lucy's, giving her a reassuring smile. "I'm sure that whatever his reasons are for not acting further, his main driving force is to avoid hurting you or making you upset and risk losing you."

"He's such an idiot…" Lucy sniffled, letting out a breathy giggle, though she wasn't quite sure what was funny. "As if he'd lose me that easily. We've been through too much."

"Exactly." Levy grinned approvingly. "Now how about you go home and relax for a bit? Maybe read that book I recommended for you?" She suggested.

"That sounds great, Levy." Lucy smiled gratefully. "Thank you." The bluenette nodded with her own smile and watched as Lucy waved and announced she was going home in her usual fashion.

Levy sat at the table for a while until a few minutes had passed before standing up to search for a certain Fire Dragon Slayer who she had seen walk in as they were talking.

She had some scolding to do and some advice to give.

[limpblotter]

Ray x Robert

a/n: Gift to @defussy who told me about their dadsona and dream dad. Its rushed, its gross but this is for you Taylor, <3  w/c:1995

“Are you sure you don’t wanna hang out on campus a bit more dad?” Amanda beamed up at her father. They had a long day of fun campus activities. Most of which were just Amanda stopping at every café near her campus for eats. Ray hung out at her dorms, said hi to her roommates and even got some keen gossip about Amanda’s first month away from home. Now the sun was setting and there was somewhere he needed to be. “It was nice having you here dad, sorry I couldn’t come home this weekend…”

“Wha-What no, hunny, I loved the 8 hour drive to see you.” He smiled (extremely) tiredly. “Plus, I don’t think you’ll be visiting home soon after the moose incident and your car.”

“It’s a shame moose don’t abide by the common traffic laws instilled by humans. One of few things we contributed to this world.”

“Well…the moose probably wouldn’t have hit your car if you weren’t speeding…and if cars…didn’t exist. I’d chalk this up to human error still.”

“Say what you will, Pops.” Amanda shrugged, “that moose was out to get me. Me surviving is nothing less than a miracle, final destination.”

Ray would have agreed until he saw that the only thing the moose did was dent her left wheel pretty bad that the metal was embedded into the tire. “I’m just glad you’re ok.” Just remembering that phone call that she had been in an ‘accident’ made his heart rate pick up. A small yawn escaped his lips against his will and his daughter gave him a small look. “What?”

“Dad, I’m serious, if you’re too tired to drive stay the night around here. Getting behind the wheel sleepy is practically as bad as having a moose hit you—“

“—hitting a moose”

“Whatever.”

Ray placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and gave her a small squeeze, “I promise I’ll be fine, I’ll take a break a few times on the road and if I really need to, I’ll pull over and spend the night in a sleazy motel where I’ll probably be more likely to be murdered in the middle of nowhere never to be seen or heard from again.”

Amanda gave him a small frown. “Not funny dad.”

“I’m being serious!”

“Father, if you die, you best have left me with a Will or something!”

“I leave you all my treasures my first born starting with my band shirts from high school”

They shared a deadpan expression until Amanda broke and made a face, “the 80s are so not coming back.” She would never want to inherit her father’s old, outdated shirts from his lame days in band.  Without any more jokes, the two stood in front of Ray’s old Chevy. Amanda wordlessly threw her arms around her father and gave him a small squeeze. “Love you dad, text me every time you stop ok?”

“I’ll be sure to update you every mile.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Ray smiled kissing the top of Amanda’s head. “See you next weekend, Manda Panda.” Ray held back the yawn until he was in the car. He waved at his daughter one more time, watching her reflection shrink in his rearview mirror was he pulled out of the college parking lot and began his 8 hour journey back to Maple Bay.

So, it became very apparent to Ray that Amanda was right. He was infact very tired from driving 8 hours to see his girl, be tugged around excitedly only to be driving back home for another 8 hours. Ray slowly started counting the seconds to a minute. He told himself if he could last a minute, then he can last another minute and continued this way until he forgot how to count all together. The roads were getting dark and with a glance to the dashboard he found himself looking at a car that was in need of some gas and at least three more hours of driving left.

He decided for his sake and the sake of his only heir to his fortuneless fortunes he would stop for the night. Ray called Amanda keeping his usual jokes of impending death to a minimum but made sure to bring up the moose one more time for the night. Once he got gas, got a room, and called his daughter one more time just for goodnights there was one more number left to check.

Ray shot a text to Val, who kept him posted about her father’s current situation.

‘Going strong, I’m planning on getting him a phone soon. He really appericates your letters even though and I quote, he rather have a hard one on the rocks. Lol, Val.’

Ray was happy. He was happy Robert was doing something to better himself but that didn’t mean he didn’t miss him. Only a few weeks after Amanda’s graduation party, Rob announced he was going away for a while. He was going to a Rehab center a few hours away but didn’t disclose where and for how long. He didn’t want anyone to be tempted to reach out to him incase…it was ugly. Mary and Ray took turns watching Rob’s house and his beloved terrier while his daughter kept tabs on him and his progress.

According to her he was really making some. That brought warmth to Ray but that didn’t replace the void. He found himself missing those wild nights of ghost hunting and stuttering out laughter. He missed the way Rob looked in his thinking spot, face illuminated by the city skyline. He missed the way Robert smelled like pine, ash and liquor all rolled together into a cologne that was pretty manageable on Ray’s senses.

It was for the best, Ray had to believe it was. Plus Rob’s absence meant hanging out with Mary became a way they both mourned the farewell of their drinking buddy. Mary wasn’t bad once Ray got to know her. Like Robert said once, she really was harmless.

“Ugh…” Ray turned up his nose a bit once he saw the condition of the motel room he was saying in. Now he wished he stayed the night closer to Amanda’s ritzy campus and not in some hot, humid, dusty room in the middle of god-knows-where Nevada. Too late for that now, Ray poked the bed and swore a blanket of dust uplifted and wafted through the air probably spreading decades of disease and unchanged sheets. “Th-the-there is no way I am sleeping in that.” He shook his head and went towards a complimentary chair beside the bed.

Thank God he was working out a little more with Craig. With a slightly more flexible and slimmer frame he managed to curl up in the chair until he was somewhat comfortable looking like a human ball of yarn…

…

…

“This isn’t working.” Ray spoke out loud. His mind was hazy and tired but his body couldn’t seem to relax long enough for that sleep to seep out of his brain and into the rest of him. Booze would probably help him sleep or anything that would force his body into a slumber. Now that he thought of booze the idea did not leave him. Finally slowly rose from the chair, making sure not to topple back down with exhaustion and opened the door to his room. He followed the dimly lit hallway in search of help or a mini bar nearby.

He walked down, passing a few rooms when a door on his right swung over so fast it nearly smacked him right in the face. “H-h-H-hey!” Ray exclaimed with mild annoyance. “Y-You could have hit me!”

“You could have watched where my door was going to open” a gruff voice grumbled with so much familiarity Ray was in near tears of joy. “Ray?”

“R-Robert?!” Ray didn’t think he’d be this happy to see that rough, bewildered expression again. “Wh-What are you doing here? I thought you-you were going to-to..wait you’re still going to-to rehab?”

Robert’s face took a while to compose itself; his hollowed, dark eyes didn’t look the same. There was a soft light flickering behind those blackened hues. He rubbed a large hand over his facial hair that seemed to be well maintained, then spoke “actually I mass murdered all of them and I’m on the run.”

…

That humor was well missed as well, as long as …it was actually humor. “Did you do it by poising their punch?” Ray included into the joke softly, he earned a small delightful laugh from Robert. His heart soared at the sight of his crinkling smile. “Seriously…what are you doing in a hotel?”

“Rehab is going well, they’re letting me have weekends to myself, test my limits with temptation.” Robert explained, “my rehab center is actually not to far from here…Val…didn’t happen to tell you where I was, did she?”

“Nono! Val kept her mouth shut. At least to me.” Mary could have probably gotten it out of her. “Amanda’s college I about 4 hours away from here, I stopped for the night.”

Robert leaned up against the doorframe, “picked a good spot, here its haunted.”

“Oo-ooh not this again.” Ray stammered a bit and shook his head, “I’m way too tired for Daniel McStrugis, Paranormal extraordinaire.” That was a lie, just looking at Rob. God he looked so good, he looked so healthy. At least…at least that’s what Ray thought. He could just be seeing what he wanted to see. What he hoped so maybe…Rob would be coming back soon… “Anyway…I was just going to…” wait, shit, Ray was on his way to find some ‘adult’ juice to sooth him to sleep.  Was he the temptation Robert was training to be able to face? Was he…bad? “take a walk…because I’m uh…not too tired.”

“Can’t sleep?” Robert tilted his head, his body language read ‘I don’t care’ but his voice said something softer. “I know the feeling…I’ve only just started sleeping six hour nights. Before it was impossible, the headaches, the cold sweats, shaking… I felt sick for weeks.” Rob must have seen Ray’s pained expression so he quickly changed his tune. “But its good now, found out I have a thing for Shirley Temples.”

Ray felt a giggle bubble out of him, as well as a yawn. “I hope you mean the fruity soda beverage and not the underage curly cue from that one infomercial.”

“I do like red heads.”

Ouch. His jokes still stung.

“It was…good seeing you Robert.” Ray signaled it was time he left. He wanted to stay, but Rob was in the middle of healing. Ray knew better he knew—

Robert shifted his weight off the door frame and had his arms down at his sides. He looked…vulnerable. “Come inside, lets…talk.”

“Rob I really shouldn’t, I gotta drive in the morning and you, you’ve got you-your thing an-and I…” his stuttering increased as his heart rate did. Rob’s offers to join him usually ended with random car rides or slick invitations to his bed. Both things Ray had also come to miss. “I-I should really not.”

Robert’s eyes looked down at his feet as the words slipped out his mouth almost effortlessly. “I’ve missed you a lot you know…kept all the letters Val forwarded to me.” He looked up and found Ray taking steps towards Robert. The pull was like a magnet, steady and constant. “Just…want to talk to you a bit…I don’t think I can wait 4 more months to see you now that you’re here.”

Ray knew he shouldn’t have. But the moment he walked into Robert’s door all the emotions flooded back. They spoke for hours until dawn. Then and only then did Ray find sleep, he found it while holding Rob’s rough hands. He found it after Rob used his beloved jacket as a blanket to keep him warm while he slept. Ray knew he shouldn’t have, but Robert Small was a very big distraction.

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: GM 78 - NYI - Victor and the Amerks

You can’t write this shit. The Buffalo Sabres go to Long Island and almost get shutout by Robin Lehner in a loss that is not only their bagillionth road loss in a row, this win for the Isles clinched them a playoff spot! Buffalo literally helped Lehner get to the playoffs for his new team. I have good feelings for Lehner after everything and he’s not wrong in calling Buffalo a tough media market for hockey; I hope Lehner enjoys his playoff berth. But the way the Islanders won this game… this shit is ridiculous.  If it wasn’t for Victor Olofsson’s first career goal then this game would’ve been an absolute albatross. Apparently Will Borgen cleared the puck into the Sabres bench at one point and it happened to hit Jack Eichel’s bare hand! Is this a joke? Are there cameras recording us enduring this? You know what, fuck it: You’re going to get a summary of Victor Olofsson’s efforts and the Olofsson team that made the playoffs last night. Victor Olofsson’s first career goal came at 13:28 into the third on a Sabres powerplay after Matt Barzal high-sticked Alex Nylander. Olofsson got the puck way out in the right circle by himself and played with it for a hot second before firing it passed Lehner. Eichel got his 50th assist of the season getting it to him and from a certain angle it looks like Sam Reinhart tipped it right in front of the net but this one goes to Vickeo. Fantastic job keeping the play alive in the zone by Eichel: I want to fantasize for a moment about an Olofsson – Eichel – Reinhart line… Yum. Anyway, Reinhart didn’t waste a moment fishing that puck out of the goal and giving it to Olofsson as a special piece of his young NHL career; a positive memory from an otherwise very negative night because the Sabres lost 5-1. But wait, the Islanders clinched their playoff spot… then who is the Olofsson team that made the playoffs? That team my friends, was down in Binghamton, New York last night in an absolute banger of a Saturday night tilt on the last day of March with playoff implications! Oh yeah, baby, it was Rochester Americans gameday last night and it was a riot!

Yes, the Rochester Americans punched their tickets to the 2019 Calder Cup Playoffs in a wild one against the Binghamton Devils. The Amerks have been such a good time this season that there was a decent contingent of Rochester fans who made the drive down to Binghamton. If I had been there I would have been on the edge of my seat. The Devils scored three goals in the first period even as the Americans outshot the home team to oblivion the whole game long. The lone Amerks goal of the first belonged to Tage Thompson who has looked like November Sabres Tage Thompson in these two games with Rochester so far. He basically single-handedly won the game Friday night against Laval Rocket scoring two goals in his first game with the AHL side. In last night’s matchup he ate up a Devils clearing attempt and snuck it in past the home netminder, the game was tied 1-1. Unfortunately, the Devils scored two more goals before the period was done. Down 3-1 there was only one goal in the second period, and it was for CJ Smith. Smith is one of those guys who is too good not to make the NHL, he just needs to find his groove up on the big squad. I say that because once Arvin Atwal got the puck to him along the wall in the offensive zone before this goal he controlled his way. Smith, who was covered by a couple guys still went where he wanted to go. I don’t know if this was an especially bad game for the Devils or what, but this goal looked good. He just tossed it from a tight angle and Cam Johnson, the Devils goalie, just didn’t see it until it was in the net. The Amerks were now down one goal 3-2 going into a positively wild third period.

There was a fight that you Neanderthals maybe interested in late in the second, but I don’t have the patience for that shit right now. It was just past ten minutes into the final frame when CJ Smith struck again. This time Nathan Paetsch got him the puck and he skated around behind the Devils net for what felt like an eternity when you’re down in the third period during a playoff race. He shot it through two defenseman and the goalie, and it was a tie game! Evidently there was some momentum now as less than a minute later Remi Elie who has absolutely blossomed with the Amerks, tallied the go-ahead goal. It was an absolutely speedy wrist shot that got new signing Casey Fitzgerald his first pro point since leaving College earlier in the week. Fitzgerald started the play way back behind the Devils net and that’s what I really love about this Rochester team: not only do they comeback from deficits, they can work together to get the puck from end to end very quickly. Don Stevens, the RJ of Rochester, had a third period to remember. He was still summarizing the grandeur of that goal when the Devils scored and tied it at 4! What a wild turn of events indeed, Don! Now I’m going to tell you a scoring matchup that is weird even for the Amerks: Casey Fitzgerald gets the puck to Kyle Criscuolo (if you’re a Sabres-first fan than you probably don’t want to remember that name because he’s only ever been called up in the worst of times for Buffalo). Criscuolo shoots the puck dead center on the goalie who was not prepared for the net-front tip-in by… wait for it… Eric Cornell. When Brendan Guhle was still in this organization we talked about him getting hopped over a ton on the defensive depth chart, but Cornell may have Guhle beat in that category. Has anyone been more leaped over than Eric Cornell? The guy minus well be written on the chalk lines for hopscotch at this point. His tip-in made it 5-4. Nathan Paetsch added an empty netter and the Amerks won this won 6-4 in the best possible Amerks win on a night the Sabres lost so bad 300 miles east.

The Americans did what the Sabres have not done in eight years: clinch a playoff spot. The Americans clinched their playoff spot a second straight season with six games to go and three matchups with the Syracuse Crunch left. If you’ve been reading the monthly Amerks Angle posts here on the New Look Sabres blog you probably know why that is significant. The Crunch seemed poised to take another division title last week after they took advantage of a weak weekend for the Amerks and took the lead in said North division. Rochester has held the North Division lead for most of the season and it would be a crying shame if they didn’t get rewarded with a division title as a result, especially by the hands of the team who have so consistently been a thorn in the Amerks’ side the last few years. Don’t make me recount last season’s playoffs. With these six games left and playoff spot officially clinched, it gives Rochester plenty of time to retake that lead and take the first of hopefully two banners this year. Moreover, the next two games for the Amerks are against the Crunch next weekend so they’re in a position where they can force the issue with a couple wins. Oh wait, this is supposed to be one of my Sabres-centered blog posts… you might forgive me for recapping a much more exciting game within the organization, right?

The Sabres on the other hand have four games left that you’re praying go quickly. After last night’s loss to the Islanders it is not too cruel a thing to think that they may not win another game this season. They looked utterly defeated long before the game was over on Long Island and I think we’re all switching into tank mode for them at this point, right? I was considering going off on a rant about the worst kind of pessimism that I’m seeing out of us Sabres fans right now and that would be justified based on some stuff I’ve seen out of us. I decided against that and I realized during these tough times everyone copes differently. These last few weeks have been a visitation of the worst of the Sabres from last season and frankly I can understand why it made a few of us pretty irrational and mean. That said, supposedly winning rises up the organization. If you think the Amerks sound good right about now, the Cincinnati Cyclones of the ECHL, our third-tier affiliate, is far and away the best team in that league all but guaranteed to win that league’s equivalent of the President’s Trophy. These times are tough, but I can’t resist the feeling that they’ll get better sooner than we think. Like, comment and share this blog; you want you and as many of your friends reading when things do get better. I for one, cannot wait to see what Victor and the Amerks do in April, May and dare I say June! Let’s Go Amerks! Let’s Go Buffalo!

Thanks for reading.

P.S. Great Twitter follow depressedbflos tells me the ECHL President’s Trophy is called the Brabham Cup. The Championship Trophy for that league on the other hand is the Kelly Cup and I think all of us in this organization could benefit from having a championship title.

[howterrifying]

Hey! I don't know if you're still doing prompt fills or anything, but I was wondering if you could write a Sherlolly prompt based on the song, "Far Too Young to Die" by Panic! at the Disco? That's like my favorite song right now and I just kind of imagined Sherlock watching Molly walk towards him through a crowded room. Thank you!

Dear Anon, I am so sorry for making you wait years. :( Now that I have The Admirer out of the way, I can start working on these really old prompts. Please accept my sincere apologies!I can only hope that you find this story somehow. :( That said, thank you for your prompt. It’s a very beautiful and dark song and wow it could be used to tell so many stories. I decided to go with the times and so wrote a post-TFP story focusing of course on the aftermath of the ‘release code’ scene. I hope you’ll enjoy what I’ve done with it. xx

:: CONTAINS SERIES FOUR SPOILERS ::

::

Grounds  (also on FF.net)

I never so adored you
I’m twisting allegories now
I want to complicate you
Don’t let me do this to myself

For two people who were rather averse to crowds, itseemed an odd choice for a meeting place. Lights of different colours, pulsingat random speeds tinted the ocean of people between them. Still, in their ownpaths, they walked calmly through the bubbling crowd. There were men, therewere women and there were children. There were ice-creams, there was laughter,there were tears. Molly knew exactly where she was headed, for this was a spot in the fairgroundshe had been to since she was a child. This place had been the one exception inspite of her dislike for crowds. Even when her father had gotten ill and couldno longer walk, she would push him along in his wheelchair, both of themdetermined not to miss their yearly tradition of ice-cream by the ferris wheel.

It seemed strange that now, this spot had also become their spot eventhough they had met here only once before. It happened when Sherlock had caughther by surprise, confronting her about her imminent departure which he haddeduced. This was some time after the whole matter with Sherlock’s sister andtheir exchange over that most peculiarly orchestrated phone call. After that phone call, they had somehow naturally avoided each other. Mollyleft her god-motherly duties as often as she could to Mrs Hudson and made sureto take up more paperwork so as to keep herself at her little office deskinstead of the labs or the morgue. Even when her supervisor had pleaded withher to take on a case, saying, you’re the only who can handle him, shepolitely but firmly declined. Then came another phone call, a call from a former colleague, now overseas, whosought Molly’s advice on a piece of research. Eventually, the conversation ledto Molly taking up a temporary research position at said colleague’suniversity. It seemed the perfect opportunity at such opportune timing. On her last evening in London, Molly paid one last visit to the fairground ofher childhood. There was no carnival in operation at the time for the ferriswheel was not lit and the ice-cream stall, among others, was closed. Still,Molly took a slow walk through the grounds, finding a bench that faced the seaand sat herself there, grateful for the emptiness but wishing she could havehad one more ice-cream. It was then that Sherlock Holmes, after months of silence, appeared beside her,casting a shadow in spite of how dimly lit the place already was. He had askedpolitely if he could sit down, Molly replied by shifting to one side, makingroom for him beside her. Are you— okay? he had asked her. 
As okay as it gets, she hadreplied. And you?
I’m far too busy to notbe okay, he had joked, temporarily bringing small smiles to both theirfaces. That’s good to know, she had answered.What time is your flight?How did you know I was leaving? Sorry. Occupational hazard. I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me.So— you’re really leaving?It’s just three weeks.I see. Everything sorted?Mmhmm.Good.


To both their surprise, Sherlock had turned to kiss her gently on thecheek. How many times had he done this now? Molly remembered frantically tryingto recall the occasions he had done so; there was the Christmas apology, therewas the one wishing her well for her engagement by a stairway. This one? Shehad not been able to place. Are you saying sorry? Molly remembered asking.
No.Is this to say goodbye? she had asked again.No, he had repeated.What was that for then? Molly could see the ferris wheel nearing. She was almost there. She wondered ifhe had remembered their appointment. After all, it had been his suggestion. To be honest, Molly, I don’t know— Sherlock had said, after a longpause. Then you shouldn’t have done it, she had interjected.It’s not that— he had continued, almost a little anxiously, I know why— I just don’t know—what to say, howto say it.Well, when you’ve worked it out, let me know.There had been a pause before he turned to look at her. I will. Yes— I will. Same time, same place, next month, hehad replied, with a sudden streak of determination in his voice. You’ll beback by then, won’t you? Yes, I will be.Next month then. At the ice-cream stand by the ferris wheel.
How do you knowabout that spot? Molly had asked, amazed.You told me once.I did?Yes, he had said, with a furtive smile in her direction. So, you’ll bethere? I’ll be there.Here she was at last. Molly could not help but smile at the familiarblackboard display that had the day’s ice-cream flavours written in colouredchalk. She was glad it was open this evening. She could have that ice-cream atlast. “I’m partial to the vanilla,” came the voice she had been expecting.Molly turned round and could not help but smile when she saw Sherlock. It hadonly been three weeks that she was away from London but it had been even longerthat she had been away from him. “Really? Well, I can’t picture you eating an ice-cream anyway,” said Molly witha laugh. “Would you like one?” he asked, gesturing to the queue. “Not now,” said Molly, “Maybe we should take a walk.”“Agreed,” said Sherlock with a nod Offering his arm to her, Molly looped hers in his and together, they strolledthrough the same colourful, noisy throngs of people that had separated thembefore. The bench from where they had met a month ago was occupied, so theystrode off towards the long metal railing that separated the fairground fromthe beach below and stood there. Both of them leaned forward against the railing, resting their elbows on thesturdy metal and took a moment to enjoy what little they could see of the sea.“How— have you been?” asked Sherlock, trying to strike up conversation. “Good. The research thing went well.”“So I’d heard…”“Have you been spying on me?” asked Molly in amusement as she turned to facehim.“A little bit,” he answered, suppressing a smile as he continued to look ahead.The pair of them continued to stare out into the sea, enjoying the calmingsound of waves rushing to the shore then falling back into the water. “I owe you something, don’t I?” said Sherlock at last.“You don’t owe me anything, Sherlock,” Molly replied with a soft chuckle.“But I do have something to say, Molly,” he continued, “Will you listen to whatI have to say?”“Of course,” she replied softly, turning to face him. With a gentle smile, Sherlock leaned over to whisper in her ear. The words werenot new — for had he not said them before? Yet, they had new meaning since thefirst time they had been uttered. Now, under no duress, the words stood ontheir own, carrying the weight of their own truth.Molly turned to him, watching him watch her as she processed these old words innew context. It perplexed her that he had said them again; that he had chosento say them again. There was no perceivable motivation nor were there anygrounds for him to have elected to do this. “What was that for?” she found herself asking in an incredulous whisper. Sherlock smiled at her question, staring into her bewildered eyes with brighteyes of his own. “I don’t mean to plagiarise but—” he paused as he began recalling her words tohim that particular afternoon. It startled him how unadulterated hers had beenand it almost frightened him that they had been true. Now that he thought about it, however— it no longer frightened him. Notanymore. “Because it’s true, Molly Hooper,” said Sherlock at last. “It’s alwaysbeen true.”

Well I never really thought that you’d come tonight
When the crown hangs heavy on either side
Give me one last kiss while we’re far too young to die

END

[devilsknotrp]

Congratulations, Cee! You have been accepted for the role of Zeke Hawker (FC: Jack Dylan Grazer). This was another really tough decision, and we truly thank the both of you for your applications! We love how deeply you got into his mind, his likes and dislikes, his snarkiness balanced with a touch of insecurity and a dash of healthy egotism. He’ll be a delight to have running around town! Please have a look at this page prior to sending in your account.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Cee Age: 20 Pronouns: She/her Timezone: GMT+10 Activity estimation: I’m currently studying full-time again, so I should be able to post IC every 2-3 days easily, depending on my muse. Even if I’m not writing, I’m usually able to be around to plot almost every day! When I know I’ll be pressed for time due to deadlines or exams, I’ll request a semi- or full hiatus. Triggers: N/A

IN CHARACTER

Full name: Ezekiel “Zeke” Hawker Age (DD/MM/YYY): 13 (07/01/1983); Capricorn sun, Gemini moon, Libra rising Gender: Cis male Pronouns: He/him Sexuality: N/A Occupation: Student Connection to Victim: Brian was one of them. He has no idea how such a quiet kid managed to weave his way so easily into an already tight-knit group, but it happened. Zeke wonders if it was because of him being in the same baseball team introduced Brian to the group. Whatever it was, he’s never found himself doubting whether Brian could be part of the friendship – and he doubts plenty of things. Alibi: Zeke was watching the other baseball games. With his game finished (and most of it spent sulking on the bench with Brian reluctantly lending an ear), he’d chosen to stay a while longer that afternoon. Sometime between the matches, he’d made a quick trip down to the Piggly Wiggly with ten dollars he’d mooched off Abel for candy and chips with a few other kids on his team who were still around. At around four-thirty he picked up his bag, shrugged on a crewneck and walked home from the pitch. A teammate’s parent offered him a ride home, and he gratefully took it. He was dropped off at the front doorstep and went straight inside. Faceclaim: Jack Dylan Grazer

WRITING SAMPLE

“Nope. That’s not it.”

Dust motes float languidly around him in the muted daylight that spills from the attic window, stagnant in mid-July air. A hand retreats from the cardboard box he’d finished rifling through, a messy stack of books and trinkets set back in their rightful place. To find a hint, anything about his parents, shouldn’t have been this hard to find. This was a trope of every movie; people kept unwanted things in the attic, not the basement. Too predictable. He thinks so, anyway and although this was real life and not some Spielberg blockbuster, it was close enough. Zeke had forgotten about the graze from another failed skating attempt that spans the base of his knee when he kneels down to store it away. A slight wince crinkling his face, he pushes it back to the spot on the boarding that’s a stark brown against the thin grey that covers the floor. Like nobody would know he’s ever been there. He dusts his hands on his shorts, but not before he’s rubbed his face and splutters from a cobweb across his nose. “Gross.”

Over cereal that morning, he’d asked again. Over a sugary bowl of whole milk-laden Cheerios, Abel consumed by today’s newspaper and soft radio masking the quiet that settled over the house, he wondered if there was anything else to be told about his mother or father. And just as his grandfather always did, it was a stock-standard answer of no, not really, there’s nothing remarkable to tell. As if he hadn’t missed out on the ordinary things already. And besides, isn’t it much more worthwhile to focus on the present?

“Focus on the present, my ass,” Zeke mutters to himself now, free arm outstretched to tear away a frayed edge of packing tape run across cardboard. In heavy marker, the next box is labelled 1971. A good decade before he’d come into existence, kicking and screaming. “Huh.” With limited options for company, it’d become nothing short of normal to talk to himself. Small comments of wonderment as he came across a particularly impressive fact in a book. 

Backhanded remarks as he resigned himself to watching The Bold and the Beautiful when nothing exciting was on television. Once, while they watched television after school, Josh had said he bugged out for doing that, laughter mingling with the taunt. Whatever. You try living in a giant house with just your grandpa, Zeke retorted. The Sunday visits Josh came along for were far different from living there week in, week out. Sundays were warm and bright. Cheerful, even. Once that rolled past, it fell back into the same monotony of school and baseball and homework, all tied together neatly with a rigid lights-out by nine sharp. To focus on the present was a joke.

A soft tug pulls the tape away easily. It’s left crumpled up beside him, gathered together in his fist before being dropped to the floor. He’s hasty to uncover the contents. Just like the last one, it’s packed meticulously. Like Tetris. The cover of the top photo album is worn in one spot, thumbed over by countless hands. He’s careful when he lifts it out and sets it on his lap, even more gentle with the plastic covers that run over the already faded photos.

So he sets to work. He’s learned to search out that face, the same way he skim-reads the chapter of a book assigned for reading he’s put off until the night before. Even if the only reference he relies on is faded, the photograph tattered and dog-eared in one corner from being stuffed in his jacket pocket to show his friends, the features are clear as day when Zeke pores over the images one by one. The disappointment’s sour in his mouth when he’s gone through it with no luck. The photos are beautiful, filled with smiling memories and yet, all devoid of his parents.

Beads of sweat across his upper lip, cotton shirt glued to the spot between his shoulder blades, another hour passes of searching through the storage boxes. He gives up eventually, when he’s graced with that same unpleasant taste. Mingled with that, though, is something else. An idea that perhaps there’re better places to look than right under the nose.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Zeke equates knowledge with adulthood. Maturity. Being a grown-up with a monotonous office job, fibre cereal and the drone of a television. Or used to. Brian’s disappearance has confirmed his suspicions – that it isn’t quite the case. The cops figured out who snuffed Phillip Silverman all those years ago pretty quickly, right? Or so some of them claimed. So, why’s it so hard to put a finger on who kidnapped Brian? The manhunts have gone on drearily, ended with no real certainty. Nobody’s a step closer to finding his friend. All grown-ups seem to do about it is croon in gossip over a diner booth table or spare an infinitesimal glance at the Crime Stoppers posters plastered on each utility pole downtown. He’s become distrusting, and quick. Whatever valiant spearheading people take up of the manhunt and the newfangled mystery of Brian appears self-serving. That there’s a few brownie points to score for next Sunday’s service, or a nice spot on the front page to print their mug across for stumbling across the next clue. If grown-ups cared, what reason is there to be so hush-hush when he asks questions? Zeke doesn’t want to think only the worst will happen. But if the adults are getting nowhere, he’s brought it up in hushed conversation with his friends that maybe, maybe, there’s a better chance of them getting to the bottom of it.

It’s well-known that Zeke isn’t great at making friends. Scratch that – he’s awful at it. Was his father, with all those vices, like that as well? It isn’t that kids don’t want to be friends with him because of his admittedly unconventional family. Whose only parent is their grandpa? But that’s never been so strange to set him apart far enough to be the black sheep. Jealousy has kept him from making friends. Until he reconciles with the fact, he supposes there’ll always be a quiet anger simmering at the back of his throat. It’s an uncomfortable sensation that makes its home in his chest, knowing that he won’t have a mom or dad to take (somewhat reluctant) photos of him on a birthday, on the first day of school or at a family gathering with a scowl plastered to his face. Those are things he’ll never be able to replicate, with Abel occupied by work and the belief that rules in place of his company are enough to raise a kid. He’s long become familiar with that yucky twinge when kids mention their families. He’s never had the luxury of saying My mom took me to go watch Independence Day in Lansing last weekend, or Hey, my dad came to see me score in little league, isn’t that cool! No, it’s been quiet admissions of frustration to Andrew when Abel has skirted a question on his father with the same lacklustre, manufactured answer journalists get when they shove a microphone in his face for the millionth time. To have answers is an itch he constantly finds himself having to scratch.

Apparently, his name means “God will strengthen”. Impressive. Except he despises going to church, enough to almost call himself an atheist, though he’s uttered a prayer or two in the last week when the worry really gets to him. Please, God, find Brian. Keep him safe, bring him home. It’s a nice way to swallow the nerves down, but not much else. He’s more interested in picking up a science book rather than the Bible, adamant about his excuses to weasel his way out of Sunday service but the effort is often pipped every time. Elaborate stories are quickly becoming his new forte. They’re just not quite good enough to get him out of that scratchy button-down and slacks too short at the ankle from his last growth spurt. At least he doesn’t have to go to those prayer groups Abel attends. While he can chalk it down to tradition and old habits, he’s never quite understood why Abel’s put much of his time and energy into it. He’s funny about it, too. Not funny as in it’s an innocent hobby, but funnyfunny. Funny where, if Zeke holds him up with a badly-timed question right as he’s about to step out the door or makes an offhand (and most definitely deliberate) remark that he might as well live at the church with the group, his face becomes stony. While he has quietened down about it, as far as his grandfather’s concerned, he’s determined to ask around elsewhere.

Sometimes, Zeke entertains the idea of asking if he can live at Ken and Aisha’s house. It makes sense. Their car often rumbles in the driveway to pick him up for school or to take him to a county fair. It feels much more familial. He worries that he’s a burden on Abel, that he’ll never properly connect with him as a son should. He’s come home with a busted lip and bruised pride from smart-mouthing bullies enough times to make anyone sigh with exasperation rather than concern. It’s not as if resisting the status quo at home, rules laid down like the law, helps his case either. His uncle and aunt’s home is welcoming. Smaller and cosier and warmer, always filled with chatter or laughter or radio. Abel’s house is huge. Silent, most of the time. When bad weather’s in, the windows rattle and wind shrieks around the corners, making it feel far emptier than it already is, which is no easy feat. To busy himself, Zeke got into the habit of reading and video games. Once he’d mowed his way through the fiction in the reading room, he quickly became hooked on non-fiction. There’s a haphazard stack of books on his bedside table at all times, switched out every week or so. He didn’t mind playing Actua Soccer for a while, until it reminded him of just how terrible he is at sport. Zeke likes to pick up new hobbies. It’s given him a wealth of new knowledge; new facts to ring off. Or when he needs to prove a point. He even tried to skate for a while. Eventually, he got sick of the bruises and grazed knees and Andrew’s bemused remarks. From stargazing to photography to origami, it’s a good way to pass the time.

When it comes to music, he’s pretentious. Zeke considers himself an indie aficionado – he’ll go for an underground station rather than the commercial pop garbage that plays on the radio. Most of his mixtapes are painstakingly curated, filled to the brim with Pavement, Mazzy Star, The Cure, Soul Coughing. Weird stuff. It’s made him consider picking up music, save for the fact that he can’t carry a tune to save himself. Tone deaf, that’s it. He won’t dare admit that he doesn’t understand half of the songs, lacking the life experience to even do so, but he’ll certainly make it seem like he does.

He has no idea why he keeps on with baseball. Most of his time at practice and games is spent cracking jokes and trading interests with Brian on the bench, ignoring the tinny sound of a bat and the shuffle of feet, the cheers from onlookers. Coach says he’d be good at the game, only if he paid attention. Deep down, Zeke has an urge to master everything. It distracts him easily. New things pop up to command his attention and in the blink of an eye, he’s moved on. He’s not scatterbrained, though. Just selective. He knows where to allocate his time. Ideally, he wants to be a jack of all trades, well-rounded and good at school and sports and small talk, though he hasn’t gotten any of them down pat. Too much of a smartass for teachers to really like him, too clumsy with his motor skills that he drops the ball half the time, enough lip and a tendency to curse that makes most kids reel, his friends included. But he’s trying to be better. It’s a quiet effort; one that won’t happen overnight. He cares about his friends deeply, even if it is masked by a habitual urge to squabble and brazen ideas that elicit eye rolls rather than impressed gasps. One day, though, he’ll come up with something good. Something spectacular.