#anyway last night was just a testament to how good of a performer she is bc like she was def struggling and probably felt like shit

[whump-town]

A Cumbersome and Heavy Body

Chapter Five: They Told Me That The End Is Near

Summary: Stubborn until the very end, Aaron Hotchner isn’t going to go down without a fight. It’s just getting hard to tell the difference between fighting them and fighting the cancer.

Word count:  3195

Author’s Note: I’m about to fuck yall all kinda of ways-- buckle in babies cause shit is GETTING FUCKED

Warning: the subject of this fic is cancer and it’s treatment, cursing, maybe out of character (idk, man. hotch is weird)

Welcome to the final show Hope you're wearing your best clothes You can't bribe the door on your way to the sky You look pretty good down here But you ain't really good

She hates everything about labeling his days as “good” or “bad”-- this stupid emphasis on each thing that he does and how well he can perform it. The doctors will ask how he is, nearly expecting to be told something other than like he’s dying, and that always frustrates her beyond words. She can feel Hotch tense each time, looking to her in his desperate attempt to conjure a lie they will believe. “Good” or “bad” and he wants to say “okay” so that they don’t poke him more. So they don’t stand him up in the room and run their hands down his sides feeling for more swollen nodes and inclinations to infections or whatever other bad nonsense will rear its ugly head.

Mostly, she hates how there are “bad” days and there are days that aren’t gut-wrenchingly horrible but they aren’t “good” either.

Tuesday he’d smiled and sat for three hours with Reid. The genius turned on the sofa to face Hotch in the recliner, rocking himself gently as he spoke about anything and everything on his mind. Emily had watched them for a moment from the kitchen, shocked at the painless ease Hotch was sitting with. Enjoying something close to normalcy as Reid doesn’t look at Hotch and see the sickness overcoming his pale skin. Doesn’t see how tired he is or how weak. He’s just Hotch and they’re sitting in the living room talking about quantum mechanics and then attachment theory and diagnosing schizophrenia.

For three hours there is so much normalcy to their chaotic lives. For three hours there is “good” and for the remaining hours after Reid leaves there is something close to right in the middle. It’s fighting tooth and nail over some supplements he’s supposed to have in this meal replacement that tastes like chalk. She chases the fight with vodka and he locks himself in his office to drink the meal replacement in the sort of isolation that affords him endless frustration with no outward consequence. He ends up sitting in there and hoping she forgives him for being such a pain in the ass. He knows she probably will.

Then he does something stupid, something entirely brought on by impulse.

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

He can’t finish the job on his own, the clippers shaking painfully in his grip. His arm hurts and he can’t stand long enough to get the whole thing even. “It’s falling out, anyway.” He tells himself that it doesn’t matter, that he should be lucky he made it to this age without losing it. He tries not to think about it, mostly. To the way that his father used to smile at him and rustle it just to see the strands sit in all kinds of directions. How Haley would curl against him, arm over his shoulders, and brushing the strands as they talk.

But it’s just… hair. Mostly.

And “good” had melted into bad as Emily stood over him, running the clippers through his remaining hair. She’d cried and he had too but he had the free hands to wipe those tears before she could see them. She’s always the strong one, the least he can do is pretend for a moment.

Standing behind him, she can see every bone in his back. His pale skin stretched over each vertebra, like the hard pressure across knuckles clenched tightly. The plethora of scars in various stages of healing-- several from tubes and wires and tests and others from the childhood he refuses to speak of. A canvas with a story right there for her to see. There are no real secrets between them anymore.

The last bit of hair falls and she looks at what they’ve done. “You’ll have to wear a hat,” she tells him. She steps out of the tub, using his shoulder to balance herself. “I always thought you had a weird-shaped head but now I know.” There’s nothing abnormal about his head, she’s just thinking about how cold he always is. That at least now he’s got an excuse to wear a beanie inside and how he’ll look like a dork with the assortment of color and variations Garcia’s going to knit the second she catches wind of this.

She offers him her hands so that he can stand too and it’s a testament to their proximity that his shirtlessness isn’t strange. She’s watched his skin ease apart under the pressure of a scalpel. Sat beside him on the bathroom floor, head on his shoulder as the night moved on but they both knew he’d be back here all together too soon to get up. The scars are nothing to the vulnerability that he’s shown her.

Standing she… she sees the protrusion of his collarbone. Of the harshness, the invasion of the central line snaking into him. It overcomes her and she pulls him into her. Throwing an arm over one shoulder and around the other, pinning him against her. “I love you,” she whispers turning her face into his neck.

Her warmth seeps into him, in every place that her skin rests against his. The desperation in her tone makes him smile, the way that she holds him. He’s empathetic to her pain but it feels good to be held, to be loved like something someone is terrified to lose. “You know,” he says. “I kind of figured. You’ve stayed around too long for someone who, supposedly, hates me.”

She laughs. How many times had she gone out of her way to mumble “I hate you” at him? For waking her up to make her go back to bed so that she doesn’t spend her whole night on the floor as miserable as him. To have something to say in the face of the scary things that happen, when he squeezes her hand too tight or when he’s that numb calm she knows is no good.

“I do hate you,” she sniffles.

He laughs. An actual laugh. “Good,” he replies, wrapping his arms around her. “Good.”

Wednesday he makes her French Toast with a black beanie pulled down over his ears, one she’d seen only in the winter to stave off the threat of the ear infections the icy fingers of the wind give him. They talk while they eat and it’s a truly monumental thing to be shared between them-- a meal.

There’s something about sitting there and watching him perfect some glorified egg bread that annoys her. Knowing that likely, tomorrow this will be like a slap to the face. A taunt to see him now and then. Today he will the Aaron that she knows. The Aaron that peers over her shoulder while she’s trying to do things, baiting her into pointless arguments with his bad French and even worse German. To the Aaron who walks soundless and who grins when he turns up silently behind her and makes her yelp with a jump.

She watches the ease in which he takes to his french toast bleed away like the color in his face until lunch brings one of those meal replacements and he can’t do it. Then she finds the french toast she thought he’d eaten in the trash where he’d purposely tried to cover it. Knows that next week they’ll find the meal replacements didn’t work and do something else to his poor body. Cut another hole, insert another tube.

She hears him fall that night.

After hearing him laugh loudly over some stupid thing she’d said.

After playfully fighting with him over stealing one of his sweaters-- he has so many it’s not going to kill him to let her borrow one.

After just sitting with him on the couch for hours listening to music and sitting in the dark.

She hears him fall and, worst of all, she hears how hard he tries to cover it up. The sound is not as distinct as it should be with no crash that rattles dishes or a harsh thud. A stumble, really, a softer thump as he leaned into the wall for support but found none.

“Aaron.”

He’s sitting up against the wall, shoulders sunk in and head hanging. When he looks up she sees the blood pouring down his face, the tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. “...can’t stop it.” He coughs, wiping at the blood across his lips. “It won’t stop, Emily.”

She runs to the bathroom, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and not thinking twice about manipulating his face in her hands. One hand holding the back of his head while the other dabs the blood up. “We’re supposed to go to the hospital when this happens,” she reminds him. He’ll need platelets or something invasive but more than likely he’ll be submitted to an hour-long wait in the E.R. to be told it was the right thing to come in but altogether unnecessary.

He groans, not in pain but in the general theme of the awfulness he knows will ensue if she makes the decision they will be going to the hospital. To the cold beds and the wheelchairs.

“Water and bed,” she says, instead of what he’d thought would be her asking where his shoes and coat are. She smirks at him, knowing what he’s thinking and seeing the surprise written across his face. “We’ll tell them Tuesday about it,” she assures him. Tuesday when they’re probably going to tell them he needs to come back in another day. When they see the supplements aren’t working and he’ll probably need something invasive and painful. Then they’ll deal with the nose bleeds popping back (and that cough she’s noticed but has let convince himself she hasn’t noticed).

“Bed,” she says again when the words seem like they haven’t processed.  

“Bed,” he repeats thickly, her fingers clamped over his nose thickening the nasally quality of his voice.

They shuffle down the hall, Emily’s fingers curled around his hip and his arm over her shoulder. Heads bent in towards one another. He whispers an apology, feet hardly leaving the ground, and leaning on her a little too much. He imagines the beginning. When he’d laid on his bed, thinking about her and thinking about his father. The way the cancer had eaten his father away and he can see in the mirror, he watches closely and knows the same thing is happening to him.

His father had done what he can’t-- ended it.

It had been Aaron who found him. So strange to see such a violent man seemingly… peaceful. His memory is a patchwork of things, his childhood full of too many greys of undetermined moments, but that sight. Seeing his father’s lifeless body in the high-backed office chair he’d spent so many waking hours in has been unforgettable.

He can’t do that. He won’t make Emily see that or leave that sort of memory for Jack. It’s important to him that it be like this.

“You have to sit up.” She props him up on pillows, ignoring his complaints. The blood has slowed and there’s nearly no point in wiping it away. He just watches her, vacantly staring back as she tucks the blankets around his chest. “Sleep,” she instructs, kissing his forehead. “Do you want me to stay?” He knows she will. She’ll sleep right here beside if he asks but… no. He’ll be okay.

It snows.

He watches it from the only window in his room, she’d pulled the curtains back before she fell asleep. He sees her and her giant shadow with the yellowing light from the street pouring in, eating out the deep consuming darkness looming over him. Until today he’d only ever suspected she was dragging his office chair into his room but he’d never caught her, always waking up after she’d moved the chair back and gone back to her own room. Leaving behind only the three deep dents in the carpet where she’d sat for hours. There had been so many nights he’d spent sitting and watching Jack sleep as a baby-- some irrational fear that the baby would stop breathing in the middle of the night and so long as he was watching Jack would keep breathing. He needn’t ask silly questions, he knows she’s using the same irrational approach.

Clenching his teeth he tries to bite down against a cough breaking out, afraid to wake her some such peaceful slumber. He pulls himself upright, curling down as his temples throb, and his body shakes violently beyond his control. A goal in-sight-- the water on his nightstand and getting Emily back to bed-- he powers through it and overcoming the weakness of his body feels so satisfyingly familiar. To days when there was pain but no cancer and he loves the triumphant that washes over him.

The water is warm and stale, left there by Emily yesterday when she’d forced him to take his medicine (even though he thought he’d throw it back up and he had). It kills the ache of his throat, dry and bitter, and he clears his throat softly to take the rest away.

“Emily,” he whispers. Moving his lips cracks the dried blood on his face he grimaces as he smells the thick scent of the blood. “Emily, get up.” He won’t leave her to sleep in this chair all night. He’s made the mistake plenty of times, knows it’s no good. “Come on,” he touches her arm, palm against her bare skin. She jumps his touch is so cold. “Sorry, sorry--”

She really sees him and jumps even harder. Yelping in shock. “Oh! Oh, God!” She wraps her arms around her chest, breathing quickly, startled. “Fuck Aaron,” she shouts. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He rubs his nose, tries to dislodge the blood.

“Is-- Is something wrong?” She pushes her hair back from her face, “are you okay?”

God. He’s hurt her irreparably, hasn’t he?

“Nothing.” He offers his hand, even if the hand trembles visibly enough in the low light. “Nothing, I promise.” She takes his hand, allowing him to guide her up. “You shouldn’t sleep in that chair,” he informs her softly but still with that distinct fussiness to his voice.

She looks back to the chair and up at him, “I guess I’ve finally been caught.”

He smiles. The first time he’d put two and two together he was angry. Overly frustrated, seething over something so… sweet. She’d sat with him through the night, watching him sleep, just trying to be close and he’d been mad. Not now, though, now he can see how tired he is. He can feel her hand still clutching his. “It’s okay,” he shrugs. “It’s late, let’s go to bed.”

She frowns, brows crinkling as she looks around them in confusion. Sleep riddled brain torn between the rational thought that concludes he’s right, she should go to bed, and the worry she’d felt hours ago about leaving him in this room. She’s not sure what to do now, which thought to travel and act upon.

“Do you--” he looks down at the thrown back covers on his bed. Remembers this wouldn’t be the first time she’s slept in that bed beside him. Likely more than just the memories he can think of now, unprompted. He blushes, embarrassed he even had the thought but she looks down to and nods.

She doesn’t want to leave him alone.

He doesn’t want to be alone.

They start side by side, neither entirely comfortable. She falls back to sleep first. He can feel her breath even back out and within a few minutes she turns over towards him, her hand resting over his wrist. He looks back to his office chair, the giant back of the old thing. She’s so afraid to lose him, they all are. He can feel it in every little thing that they do. How Dave lingers a little more after each visit, hugs him a little longer. The way Derek looks at him, how close he stands. Even in Spencer and Jack who soak up his attention like flowers to the sun. Turning and facing him, finding him wherever he is to enjoy just one more moment. Hanging on to his every word.

He wakes soaked in sweat, shaking as Emily talks to someone rushed, too quickly to sound anything but frantic. Afraid.

He opens his eyes as a sea of red flushes through the room, the shrill of an ambulance breaking up the serene silence the snow has muffled the Earth with.

“Aaron?”

She’d woken to him struggling to breathe. Both had turned over in the night and while she’d turned toward him, he’d turned away from her. Her arm over his hip, her head against his back, they were nearly welded together. If not for the proximity-- his arm pulling hers closer, her leg in-between his, she likely wouldn’t have heard him at all. But she’d felt him jerk in his sleep, fighting his body for air.

And he wouldn’t wake up.

“Aaron?” she calls a second time. She should go open the front door, let the EMTs in but she’d seen a sliver of his eye. His cheek is cold against her palm but she cries, tears streaming when he opens his eyes. When he turns his face into her palm. “There you are,” she beams. His eyes slide back shut. “Stay awake,” she asks, her nerves getting the best of her and she shakes him. Pleased when his eyes open back up and find her. “Stay awake, don’t you want to see the snow?”

The stretcher is cold and he mourns the loss of his thick comforter but the drugs flooding into his blood makes him loose, pliable. He doesn’t fight being taken from his bed, even if he longingly looks back for it. Lets them strap his legs down place an oxygen mask over his face. The snow means nothing to him. He hates it, honestly, but as they step outside, Emily tossing his winter coat of him like a blanket, he looks up at it falling down on him.

Her hand slips away and he looks back for her, confused. She stands in the street, face turned to the fat snowflakes falling around her. All the light coming from street lamps high above her head. He’s reminded of a lifetime ago. When she’d gone against his orders and gone to investigate Michael’s death with a ferocity he hadn’t seen coming. When she’d avoided his eye and said she’d understand if he wanted her badge and gun after that little show. She’d forced his hand, made him call the Vatican, and consider his own allegiances. To when they were two very different people than they are now-- younger, naive… alone.

She catches up to them, slipping her hand back into his. Her fingers freezing cold as they curl around his. “Don’t you love it?” she asks. She looks back out, watching until the doors shut behind them and all she has is a tiny window.

He doesn’t but she does.

She looks young, weightless.

In a way, yes, he does love it.

@laiba-the-person, @emily-hottie-prentiss, @unionjackpillow, @clockedstar, @baumarvel, @blakeprentiss, @qvid-pro-qvo, @aaron-hotchner187, @ssalavellan, @lazyhater 

[gwynposting]

All Along the Watchtower (Ch. 3)

This story takes place after the “All Along the Watchtower” ending of Cyberpunk 2077, so spoilers ahead.

NSFW chapter ahead~

AO3 Link | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2

Panam was never one for being able to hide her emotions, and the attempted smile betrayed by the rest of her cringing features gave testament to it. Cassidy, on the other hand, looked upon V with amusement. 

“Yeah, uh,” V started with an awkward cough, “guess the rockerboy part of Johnny didn’t overwrite my brain yet.” She stared down at Cassidy’s borrowed guitar with a tinge of blush on her cheeks before handing it back to him. 

“Well anytime you want to start learnin’, give me a holler,” Cassidy said with amusement as he set the guitar in his lap and plucked away at an idling tune. 

V smiled in appreciation and turned to Panam, “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow anyhow?”

Panam leaned forward, the fire in her eyes sparking. “We’re meeting up with a contact of ours that’s worked with us and other Aldecado families in the past - Bryce Bane. We’ve used Bryce as our point of contact for operations in the Tucson area in the past - we figure it’s a good idea to help get general intel as well as see how we can help solve your problem.”

V nodded along, “And we can trust this Bryce?” 

Panam scoffed, “Could you trust Rogue?” 

V grimaced in recognition. “Only after convincing her a 50 year old terrorist from her glory days was trapped inside my head.”

“So unless you got another cyberpsycho inside your noggin’, I wouldn’t get too friendly with them.” Panam could see the disappointment creep along V’s face - she was rather decent at hiding it, but the subtle quiver of the lip always gave her away. “But,” she resumed, “with all the gear we’ve gotten from the Arasaka raid, it’d be hard to say no to a fresh load of biz coming their way.” 

“Right…” V hesitated. “Okay. So - who, when, and where?”

Cassidy let out a chortle, “Mitch wasn’t kiddin’ about you city slickers.”

V smirked, giving her forehead a few taps, “I blame the ticking time bomb in my head.” 

Panam broke in, “We’re due to meet them around noon, on the western side of the city outskirts. Now, I don’t have reason to suspect they’ll pull anything, but it never hurts to come prepared. V, you’ll be accompanying me to the meet while Cassidy, Mitch, and Carol provide overwatch.”

“All eggs in one basket, hmm?” Carol interjected, sizing up the roster for this mission.

“More like this is our first meet with this city and I need to make sure we get off on the right foot. And that means no itchy or jumpy triggers. I know I can count on the vets for that.” Panam looked around the table to mixed reactions. “With that being said,” she continued, “I want to perform some reconnaissance of the area so we can set up 3 separate areas of vision around the meeting place. That means we’ll be setting out early tomorrow - around sunrise - to set up. 

“Mitch, V?” she gestured towards each respectively, “You two are going to drive out today and use the drone to do some recon. Note the terrain in the area and try to find overlooks that give a good view of the entire meeting sight as well as any paths to the area.”

V and Mitch made eye contact and nodded in agreement. “We’ll set out right away then,” Mitch said.

Panam smiled and nodded in affirmation, “Excellent. We’ll reconvene later tonight when you two return and go over the finer details.”

“Preem. Anything else?” V asked.

Panam shook her head, “Nope, that’s it. Just lemme know when you two get to the site.”

“Yes, mom,” V smirked, and Mitch failed to suppress his own smile. Panam shot her a deadpan look of annoyance. 

Mitch and V broke off and made their way over to the mechanics station. The Aldecados had set up shop in an abandoned warehouse of some sort - its floor had been picked clean so there hadn’t been much cleanup required at all. But now, it housed the mighty Basilisk, along with the plethora of other vehicle repair necessities.

Mitch pointed to one of the corners, “Drone case is over there. I’ll grab a couple battery cases just in case.”

“What for?” V asked.

“Well, never know if we might need to use the active camo when we get there. And if we do, I’d rather we be able to get a full scan of the area. Not cut corners, y’know?”

“Good thinking,” V said with a huff as she lifted the hefty clamshell in her arms.

Mitch made his way back over, battery packs slung around his shoulder, and together they set off to their ride. 

“How well do you know this Bryce?” V asked.

“As well as you know any fixer in Night City, really.” Mitch responded with a gruff. He was set to leave it at that, but looked over to V’s expectant face. “We didn’t have a particularly contentious past, it’s just been quite a while, and well... we’re runnin’ blind right now. A lot can change in 3 years.” 

V felt the gnawing of doubt creep back into her mind, despite her best efforts to keep it suppressed. The last thing she needed right now was to fall into despair before they even tried their first option. But even the existence of those lingering thoughts sent worry through her, every setback felt so severe and her mental health so weak, like fractured porcelain held in place by glue. A vace drifting through the air in slow motion, desperate for someone to catch her before she reaches the harsh and unyielding floor below.

Mitch seemed to be able to read the apprehension of V’s face, “But hey, we worked with some great techies back in Tucson. If they don’t know what to do, then they sure know someone who will.” 

A shaky smile formed on her face, but hopeful words did little to soothe her anxiety. But she didn’t have much time to ruminate over her thoughts as they pulled up to Mitch’s ride. They took turns loading their equipment onto the bed before climbing inside the cabin.

“Alright then, let’s get this started,” Mitch stated with finality. 

** 

V slung the canteen over her shoulder and let it rattle to the floor with a clank. She whinged at the sharp sound but was far too tired to react. It felt as if her entire body had a layer of dirt, like a second layer of skin. Yet all in all, it had been a very uneventful day, and she liked it that way. Though, she couldn’t say the same thing for tomorrow, whatever that would hold. V had been used to working with fixers in the past, but this time it was different. She wasn’t some solo anymore, money and fame the only thing on the mind. She was part of a family once more, her clan. When things went wrong, everybody had to suffer the consequences for it, whether physical or emotional. She had everyone else to think about. She had - 

Judy. V smiled as she saw the soft hue of blue light bleed through the cracks of the garage door. She shrugged off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack, pausing as she flexed and stretched her stiff limbs. In a similar fashion she shuffled off the boots from her feet.

V made her way over to the garage to poke her head in, but stayed silent as she saw Judy sitting in her desk chair, BD wreath wrapped around her head. But something caught V’s eye - many things, really. Judy’s hands clenched the armrests of her editing chair, her thighs pressed together as her legs writhed small motions back and forth. Her chest rose up and down with deep breaths, and the skin visible from the cut of her shirt was painted a deep blush.

V was about to raise an eyebrow in concern, but was interrupted by a soft mew that escaped Judy’s lips, followed by a much lower moan. V chuckled in response, Couldn’t wait for me it seems, she thought to herself. Deciding it wasn’t the best for her to interrupt Judy’s alone time while filthy, V made her way to the bathroom to wash away what she imagined were kilograms of sand and dirt from her body.

Of the few comforts she had gotten used to in Night City, hot water would have been one of the highest. The Bakkers had raised her through the traditional nomad lifestyle, but clearly she had softened up in a few ways. Shivers shot down her back as the cold water began rushing over her body, washing away the caked dirt and leaving goosebumps behind. 

V was meticulous when it came to cleaning, especially with her cybernetic implants. She gave extra care to clean the creases and ports of her mantis blades. She had never had a problem with them so far, and she planned to keep it that way. It had been a recurring fear of hers that some mechanism would fail her when she needed them most - whether they failed to open properly, or extended on their own without command. In those moments she could almost hear Panam rage at her tombstone for being stupid enough to let something like routine maintenance lead to her downfall.

Just as she finished rinsing the suds from her hair, she heard the bathroom door open and close. She turned her head to see Judy rolling her panties down her legs, bra already discarded on the floor. Without a word, Judy climbed inside and pressed V against the shower wall, capturing her lips with her own. Her hands betrayed her neediness as they traveled along V’s skin and down to her ass, roughly taking hold of each cheek. V yelped in surprise at the onslaught, but quickly gave in. V’s hands, momentarily idle, found new life as they began to roam up along Judy’s curves, coming to rest upon her cheeks. 

Judy paused and broke away, leaving both of them panting for breath. They looked into each others’ eyes, lidded and wanting. “Didn’t hear you come home,” Judy breathed.

“Didn’t want to interrupt your fun,” V smirked, “plus, I felt gross.” 

Judy’s hands began shifting, creeping around V’s front, “Probably woulda jumped your bones anyways.” 

V’s response was cut short by her own sharp exhale as Judy ran a hand along her hardening shaft. Judy bit her own lip in smug satisfaction as she felt V’s desire manifest within her grasp, before leaning back in, breathing warmth on chilled skin, and taking V’s lip between her teeth. The two came together once more as their lips interlocked, broken apart only through momentary calls for air or teasing bites. Judy’s hand began tender strokes, back and forth, along V’s length. Judy couldn’t help the butterflies that poured through her as she felt V’s hips begin to thrust ever so slightly - signs of a woman too pent up for her own good.

But Judy also felt that need, and it was quickly tended to. V’s curious hands traveled downwards until they reached Judy’s waiting sex. Her fingers teased along Judy’s entrance, lightly brushing over her clitoris. Judy flexed under her touch, her thirst finally given life. But V, not one to tease at the moment, deftly inserted two fingers and began to give slow, languid thrusts. A flare of pride rushed through V as Judy began to push into her grasp, grinding her clit against the palm of V’s hand. 

Each needy thrust and flex spurred the other on, as they fed off each other's need and want, pressing into each other, grasping, thrusting, their pace increasing with every shaky breath. Their kiss became sloppy and unfocused, disrupted through their descent into pleasure. The drone of the shower head and the cool of the pouring water faded into the back of their minds - all that mattered was their touch. 

Judy hovered over V’s lips, to whisper, “V-” as if but a gasp. V closed the distance once more and captured Judy’s lips as she came undone beneath her. Shivers radiated through Judy’s body as V’s fingers coaxed her through her orgasm. V’s free hand brought Judy closer, pressing her against V’s body for support as she came. Judy broke their kiss and slumped her head into the crook of V’s neck, her moans becoming muffled. 

But her comedown didn’t slow Judy’s pace - if anything, it increased her fervor. As she regained her footing, Judy changed tactics. Instead, she focused along V’s erogenous zones, kissing and leaving love marks along V’s jaw and neck to below her ear, stroking to the tune of the heady thrusts that met her hand. 

V was holding on, prolonging her suffering, until she heard Judy plead, “Please V -” and she came undone. With each stroke V shivered, her hips spasmed unpredictably and unpracticed, almost fucking the hand wrapped around her throbbing length. Each release brought haughty gasps that sent fire through Judy. 

With one final languid squeeze, V nigh collapsed on top of Judy. “Woah there,” Judy helped lean V back against the shower wall.

V returned the smile, albeit weary, before leaning in to give Judy one last kiss, “Couldn’t stop thinking about this all day.”

“My my, what a pervert~” Judy floated.

V snorted, “Says the one sending me nudes mid-op,”

“Details V, details,” Judy reached for the soap once more. “Think we need to get cleaned back up, hmm?” 

“And then we go straight to bed,” V concluded.

“Right. Bed.” 

[lobster-tales]

The Moon - Yueki

Day 6 of Winter ATLA Femslash Week. This work is available here on AO3. 

Prompt:  The Moon or Ten years later... / Post-Canon

Suki makes a choice that will save the world, but at a steep price. But what she must lose, Yue is grateful to gain. Also they totally fall in love. Based on the song "Hijo de la Luna" by Mecano

Night became necessary for Suki. Her days belonged to the Fire Lord and officials, ensuring the Kyoshi Warriors were at their posts. The only time she had for herself was bathed in darkness, when she scaled the walls of the palace and perched on the tiled roof. Most nights, she was content to sit under the stars, letting the sky swallow her whole. 

This was not one of those nights. Suki pulled her knees closer to her chest, her eyes downcast. Around anyone else, even her warriors, such a vulnerable posture would betray her, compromise her strength in their eyes. She could only let down her guard when she was alone. 

A cloud drifted past the strongest source of light. Suki looked up at the full moon, relaxing in the silver glow. Well, she was almost alone. 

“Hey Yue,” Suki said. “Me again. How are you?”

She was met with silence. Suki never received an answer from the elusive moon spirit, but she made sure to ask anyway. “I’m sorry, but I don’t really have any good news. Everything’s still the same. Fire Lord Zuko’s been bedridden for nearly a week now. Yesterday, he looked like he was getting better, but his fever went up again today.” Suki paused, unsure how to proceed. “Aang is a wreck. Katara has barely slept. She and the other healers have been working to find a cure, but so far they haven’t succeeded.”

Suki slid her hands down her calves, the fingers of her left hand gently grasping the wrist of her right. “I um… I overheard some officials in the hall. They were talking about who's next in line just in case…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “They mentioned Azula’s name, but she’s still recovering. She won’t be able to run the nation in her state. Which leaves… no one.

“I know what happens when there’s no one to take the throne. I’ve read about coups before, and even all of my warriors wouldn’t be enough to stop the Fire Nation officials, or at least,” Suki said darkly, “whoever poisoned Zuko.” 

A breeze ruffled her hair. In the distance, far beyond the palace walls, a dog barked. And still, the moon said nothing. 

Suki pressed her lips together, fighting back the wave of feelings. Tears already welled in her eyes as she said, “And… I don’t know what to do.” She looked skyward, her cheeks wet. “I know… you grew up during the war too, Yue. We all did. I don’t know what it was like in the Northern Water Tribe, but for the rest of us…” Suki began to shake, her voice trembling. “I don’t want it to happen again. It 

 I don’t think the world could survive another war. 

“And it’s not just that, it’s…” She began sobbing, burying her face in her knees. She whispered hoarsely, “Zuko’s my friend. And I don’t want him to die.”

Suki wept openly, letting the feelings tear through her. She had spent countless hours fending them off, forcing through the pain. She had to be a leader, to stay positive in front of everyone. Now, she could release those thoughts, each ragged breath a testament to her fear.

A hand pressed against her back, gliding gently across her shoulders in a show of comfort. Suki froze. Who could have followed her this high up? Maybe the Avatar?

She lifted her face, the cold light spilling across her features. Her mouth dropped. 

A girl sat beside her. Physically, she looked to be 16, but her eyes betrayed centuries of knowledge. Her white clothing contrasted her dark skin, the fabric floating around her. Her white hair was pulled into two loops, a water tribe band holding the style in place. The girl smiled, a hint of uncertainty in her blue eyes. “Hello Suki.”

Suki’s breath escaped her in a single word. “Yue!” She tried not to gawk, reigning in her expression like she did around the Fire Nation officials. Unsure how to address a spirit, Suki rose to her feet and bowed respectfully. 

Yue remained seated, nodding. “Please, sit.”

“Yes, your… spiritness.” Suki lowered herself onto the tile, crossing her legs beneath her and keeping her spine straight. 

“No, just… call me Yue. Please.” Yue considered her carefully. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“Yes. I am.” Blood rushed to Suki’s cheeks as she began to think. After the war, she’d spent countless nights beneath the moon’s glow, pouring out the feelings that she couldn’t share with anyone else. What had Yue heard? What secrets did she spill by accident?

“I know this must be a shock for you,” Yue murmured. “But… I know everything that’s going on. About Zuko, the poisoning, and I want to help.”

No amount of diplomacy training could stop Suki from staring. “You… want to help? I thought spirits didn’t interfere with human affairs.”

“I’m not all spirit,” Yue said. “I actually used to be human. Part of me still is. And as someone who used to live in the material world, I want to do something to protect it.”

Suki had heard the story before, of the water tribe princess who sacrificed herself to become the moon spirit. Yue’s act had been described like death. She never thought Yue had retained any of her humanity, much less enough to intervene. 

“How?” Suki asked. 

“Well, I actually can’t do it alone. You see, the moon spirit has the power to grant a wish.” She hesitated. “But at a steep price.”

Suki searched her face, trying to guess what a spirit could want, or even possess. “Anything.”

Turning her head, almost ashamed, Yue murmured, “For someone to get help from the moon spirit, they must give up their first born child.”

Dread washed over Suki. “Zuko can’t. His first born child… He needs an heir.”

Yue nodded slowly. “Anyone can make the wish to heal him. Anyone can make the deal.”

A thought struck her. One that put the sour taste of martyrdom in her mouth. She had told her pupils a thousand times: the greatest strength of a Kyoshi Warrior is her warrior’s heart, because not all battles needed weapons. 

Suki straightened her arms, hands on her knees, and she took a deep breath. “I’ll do it. In exchange for his life, I’ll give you my first born child.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Yue bowed her head reverently. “Consider it done.” Suki expected her to disappear, but instead Yue leaned forward and embraced her. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “But also… thank you…” 

Her skin was cold, but Suki didn’t mind. Without thinking, she lifted her arms around Yue. The moon spirit stiffened at the human contact, then relaxed into her embrace. Yue pressed her nose into the crook of her neck. 

Suki asked, “Why do you say that?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you thank me?”

“Oh!” Yue pulled away, averting her eyes. “I… Sorry, that was inappropriate.” She tucked a loose strand of white hair behind her ear. “I know it will pain you to lose the child, but… it gets lonely, up there.” She nodded towards the full moon. 

Suki searched Yue’s blue eyes. She realized the opportunity she’d been granted. After years of telling Yue all of her secrets, now she could return the favor. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

Yue frowned. “What… it’s boring. Really.”

“Come on,” Suki said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “You already know everything about me. Now I want to know about you.”

“Oh.” Yue glanced at the sky, biting her lip. “Well… I guess I could stay for a few minutes…”

***

Violet dawn crept over the horizon. Yue surrendered to the hour, wrapping her arms around Suki again. Their laughter still hung in the air around them.

Suki murmured, “Will I see you again?”

“Only once, when you…” Yue paused. “When you… finish the deal.”

The thought sent a jolt through Suki. Over the last several hours, she’d forgotten the terms. Yue was such a lovely distraction. 

“Goodbye, Suki,” Yue whispered, and her form disintegrated. 

Suki lowered her hands. Yue’s smell lingered on her clothing, the soft scent of moss. When the first beams of sunlight touched Suki’s skin, she still faced the space Yue had taken up. She waited a few more seconds, exhaustion setting in. 

In the palace below, someone shouted Zuko’s name. Suki rose to her feet. She would go see him. Katara would cry, Aang would hug her. None of them would ever know the cost of his recovery. 

Suki looked at the moon, still hovering in the morning sky. Then she descended. 

***

The hills of Kyoshi Island were short relative to other ranges in the Earth Kingdom. The highest point on the island was shorter than the lowest in the nearby Patola Mountains, home of the now empty Southern Air Temple. This summit was named Hei-Ran Peak, after the mother of Avatar Kyoshi’s wife. A wooden hovel had been constructed on the flat top. Rumors said Kyoshi would meet with her enemies here, away from civilians. 

Suki sat several yards in front of the hovel, legs crossed, facing west to watch the sunset. The winds of early spring bit at her, but the bundle strapped across her chest kept her warm. The trek to this spot had rocked the child to sleep, and she could feel his steady breathing. 

A few minutes passed, then an hour. The sun and all it’s light disappeared. The stars became visible, and Suki saw her shadow lengthened by a brightness behind her. She remained seated, still. 

A hand pressed against her back, gliding gently across her shoulders in a show of comfort. Suki relaxed into the touch, rising to her feet and facing Yue. Two years had passed since their first meeting, but the moon spirit hadn’t aged at all.

Yue grinned, almost sheepishly. “Hello Suki.”

“Hey Yue. How are you?”

For the first time, she got an answer. “I’m good,” Yue said with a smile. 

Suki wasn’t sure how to proceed. She felt like there must be some ritual, some rite she had to perform, but hours of research on the subject had revealed nothing. Apparently, very few individuals in the history of the world had accepted the deal with the moon. “I brought him.”

Yue’s eyes widened, and she reached a hand towards the bundle across Suki’s chest. “Is this him?”

“Yep.” Suki carefully removed the fabric concealing his face. 

Yue leaned in, gasping at the sight. The infant had the dark skin of a water tribe descendant, with snow white hair. He slept soundly. 

“He’s… he’s beautiful,” Yue said. “Who’s the father?”

Suki chuckled to herself. The question was fair, but that part of the process had been the easiest. “Sokka.”

Yue froze, meeting Suki’s eyes. “Oh? I thought you two weren’t...”

“We’re not, but we kept in touch after the break up. Besides, I thought if you had the choice, that’s who you would have gone with.” Suki gazed down at the boy. Though she’d known his fate for years, no amount of preparation could soften the upcoming loss. “So um… how does this work?”

“We don’t have to do it right now,” Yue said. “I was thinking maybe we could… talk? Like last time?”

Relief washed over Suki. Not once in the last few years had Yue left her thoughts. In her dreams, she still heard the sound of Yue’s laughter, smelled her mossy scent. Suki outstretched her hand, indicating the hovel. “I can make us some tea?”

The night passed easily. Yue told Suki that the tea was delicious, withholding the fact that she’d long lost her sense of taste. A few hours in, the child woke up crying, and Suki showed Yue how to change his cloths and feed him. Yue learned diligently, though in the spirit world, he would not need any of those things. 

The three of them laid together on a bamboo mat, the boy in the middle. Yue had not stopped smiling, her eyes on the boy. Suki trained her gaze on Yue instead, focusing on her face, filling in the gaps of her memory. 

“Did you name him?” Yue asked.

“No. I thought you would want to.”

Yue considered for a moment. “How about Arnook? After my father?”

“You don’t have to ask me,” Suki said with a smile. “But that is a good name.”

A moment of stillness passed. 

“He made the deal, didn’t he?” Suki asked. “Both of your parents did.”

Yue pressed her lips together, her eyes solemn. “Yes.”

“But you grew up in the human world.”

“When I was born, the spirits gave my father a vision. He knew I would become the moon spirit,” Yue said. “So… he negotiated with the moon. I would get sixteen years in the material world, then spend the rest of eternity as a spirit.”

Suki nodded thoughtfully. “I see.”

A thought crossed Yue’s mind. “Did you want to? Negotiate, I mean.”

“No,” Suki said, tracing her fingers over the baby’s small hand. “He was never my son. Always yours.”

“He could be yours, too.”

Suki frowned at her. “What?”

Yue shifted, leaning on her elbow. “You could pass over to the spirit world, live with us there. Humans have done it before.” She tilted her head. “Actually, I know someone who is planning to, when his time here is done.”

“Who?”

“Zuko’s uncle, Iroh.”

“Iroh?” Suki’s eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

Yue smirked. “You think you’re the only one who talks to the moon?”

Heat raced across Suki’s face, but she pushed through the embarrassment. “Oh.”

“Do you want to? Live with us?” 

Yue looked at her so earnestly that Suki hated her next set of words. “I can’t, Yue. At least, not yet.” She sighed. “I still have work here, unfinished business.”

“Ah. I see.” Yue’s face fell. “Well, when you’re done… come find me.”

Suki grinned. “That won’t be a problem. You’re hard to miss.”

“How dare you.” A playful look flickered across Yue’s features. “It’s not polite to comment on a lady’s weight.”

They chuckled together. In a movement so natural that Suki felt she was born to make it, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Yue’s. The kiss was soft, not hungry or needing, and Yue hummed contentedly. 

“The sun’s about to rise,” Yue whispered against her lips. 

“Damn.”

Yue scoffed, pulling away. “Not in front of the baby.”

“He can’t understand me,” Suki said, leaning in and kissing Yue again. 

“Suki,” Yue giggled. “I have to go.” She ran her fingers through Suki’s hair, murmuring, “I’ll see you again?”

“Of course.”

Yue reached for Arnook, taking the baby into her arms. “Say goodbye, Arnook.”

He gurgled at Suki, and she held up her hand in a lame wave as a response. 

“Goodbye, Suki.”

“Goodbye-” but both Yue and Arnook had already disappeared. 

Suki rolled onto her back, gazing up at the ceiling of the hovel. Sunlight peeked through a few holes in the wood. She closed her eyes, and slept. 

[sgt-morgan]

Lucky Kentucky ch. 2

Chapter 1

Hello there, welcome back to my Rockstar!Bucky x Reader fic. It was heavily inspired by my love of seventies mega rockstars, Almost Famous, Classic Rock, and a little bit of personal whimsy. I hope you enjoy, and read responsibly.

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ : cussing, sexy times, drugs, booze, smoking, objectification, fornication, liberation, and a litany of other sordid topics and traumas.

“HEY! NOBODY FUCKING MOVE!” To say that the last thing you needed was a missing rockstar, was a drastic understatement, and a testament to your unending will.

“Where in the good sweet name of Jesus is that dick head?” You fumed stomping towards the rest of the band.

“Your guess is as good as ours sweetheart, we got nothing. No phone calls, no texts, no nothing.” Shrugged Steve Rodgers, guitarist and all around good guy. “If I knew that all the time, I think I’d be a millionaire.”

You sighed and looked around you at the fleet of your busses and equipment trucks, and you could have sworn that you were ready to kill that asshole with your bare hands. “Well hot stuff? He better show up quickly, or so help me God he will be sleeping in a tour bus with the newest, dweebiest, roadies I can find. Do you know how bad new roadie busses smell? He will if he dosent get his ass here by the time the last piece of your stage equipment is packed.”

“I think you should land his ass there anyway, to give him time to think about what he’s done.” Sam shrugs, Clint vehemently nodding his support as he wrangles one of his two delightful children. “I think his punsishmet should fit his crimes personally.”

“Oh yeah! I think that’s a great idea! Or, he could stay with Laura and I on our bus, I’m sure the whining infant won’t keep him up all night, He’s gonna love it!” Clint nods, “We have a rule, no booze, broads, or bud around the kids! He’ll dry out quick!”

“No Clint, no worries at all. He won’t sleep or get laid on the roadie bus,” you laugh, “he’ll be surrounded by filth, and endless questions, and gawking. He won’t get the back room either, I’ll give him a bunk. Frankie will be on his bus, that way he never gets away with anything. No escape artists on my watch!” You wink, plucking his oldest, Cooper off his back and wrestling him into a head lock.

“Oof, devious as always.” Natasha laughs nodding and throwing her arm around you. “I remember when I got on your bad side, wasn’t worth the never ending week of publicity with no coffee. That was the strictest ban I’ve ever dealt with for sure.”

“Someone start calling his ass.” You laugh pulling away from Tasha and waking towards Peter to get a rundown on the status of loading up.

“Oh captain, my captain!” Peter saluted, about nine or ten roadies following in his lead while the rest just stood gawking as if they had never seen a woman before. “We are about twenty minutes from setting sail, I have my men sorted into busses and vans, Frankies bus has one extra bed open as per request, and, as our lady of perpetual mystery might be interested to hear, we have a new crew of over eager security team members stocked to the brim on Frankies bus, even worse than the roadies. Is everything ship shape?”

“At ease Parker,” you giggle, shoving him out of his stiff rehearsed stance, “indeed we are ship shape, now if only our little diva Jr. would show face, we could be on our way.” Just as you were finishing that sentence, a car pulled up, and out stumbled the man of the hour, James Barnes.

James Buchanan Barnes was drunk. Inibriated, intoxicated, off his ass, pissed, blitzed, sloshed, ranked, hammered, wrecked, out for the count, drunk. He stumbles out of the Uber, bottle in hand, but at least he was dressed. He stumbled over to the rest of the group, he had a duffel bag, wether it was packed with anything useful is up in the air, you’d make sure you’d get your hands on it and ensure that it had what he needed. Wanda could take care of filling in the gaps. You have now decided that there is no escape from Frankie for him. You’d have to put someone on the bus. You don’t know who yet, but someone. Maybe Quill? Whoever it was, needed to get along with Sam and Steve. Thor, he would work nicely. You’d see to it that Frankie had him moved. Now there was the Liquor problem. This was a decision every road manager has to dread. As any good rockstar could tell you, you have to be stone sober or completely fucked to perform a good show, you just had to decide what would or wouldn’t ruin the band... or him. So, sober it was. No use dragging it on any longer.

“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES!”

—————————————————————————

Any man alive knew that sound was trouble. No woman used the full Government name if you were in good standings. That was just facts. However, drunk thoughts beget sober truths and the truth is, that was incredibly sexy. When he turned hands raised in surrender whiskey bottle and duffle abandoned he was greeted to the glorious sight of her. Kentucky, dressed in leggings and a ripped up old band tee that he could faintly register belonged to Led Zepplin. Her hair piled up on her head shining in the sunlight her curves begging to be expl-

*whack*

Well, that will sober you up quick.

“Hey dickhead, so glad you could make it!” Sam, not looking too thrilled despite his statement of glad tidings gave him a smile he could only describe as cat catching canary. “I think Lucky needs to see you. Loose the doe eyes, it’s getting creepy.”

“Yeah buddy, I can catch on pretty quick.” He fumbled for what to say, and settled on “Bluegrass, doll, you look stunning this fine morning. Care for a swig of Kentucky’s finest?” He slurred, She sauntered up to him and he could swear he felt the magic, until she snatched the bottle and promptly tipped it out onto the ground. “Hey, woah! Easy there Kentucky, that was a bottle of Kentucky’s finest! that was a bottle of Eagle Rare!”

“No James, your looking at Kentucky’s finest, and you should know that I’m better than all the barrels in Frankfort. Buffalo Trace has nothing on me. Now, since you came in all washed up and wandering right smack dab before the deadline, I’m gonna be merciful, but the next time you pull this shit? Theres a bunk in Frankies bus with the minors that has your name on it. Are we clear? Brooklyn?” She had the empty bottle in her fist, her other arm draped under her breasts and she was jabbing him in the chest. He had never been more frightened and turned on in his entire life.

“Reading you loud and clear KY, I got the message.” He nodded backing away slightly.

“Good!” She smiled turning into an entirely different woman. One with sunshine and laughter in her soul, her perverbial horns retracting. She snatched his sunglasses right off of his aching eyes, and placed them on her face. Low blow, but not entirely unexpected. “Now that the princess is here, load up and let’s roll! First pit stop is in Vegas, so we got a lot of ground to cover!” She stuffed his empty bottle and his duffle back into his hands, and headed for her bus, he just caught the conversation as the Barton family began to load up watching her go by.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Lila?” Clint said helping his little girl put her little pink hello kitty duffle under the bus.

“Is Uncle Bucky in trouble?” She asked innocently looking back at Bucky, who gave her a little wave.

Clint turned to face him, chucking as he met his gaze, “Oh yeah honey, lots and lots of it.”

—————————————————————————

You loaded yourself onto the administrative bus, plopping yourself into the little booth right at the front near the head bus driver, Phil Colson.

“Hello Phil!” You smiled, opening your laptop and checking on your hotel reservation. The kind bus driver smiled and started up the bus. Next on we’re your bunk mates, Wanda, Vision, Bruce, and Peter. That left two bunks open for Tony and Pepper for when they joined you on the occasion.

“Well, I can proudly announce that Barnes’ military training has not gone to waste, even sloppy drunk he knows how to pack his essentials!” Wanda’s beautiful soothing voice waltzes its way into your ears as she and Vision loaded themselves onto the bus. “He’s got his tooth brush and everything! It’s a miracle!”

You nodded at that eyes still focused on checking your route’s traffic and totaling how much it would cost you for a late check in if nessicary. “Good, he can be a functioning adult when he wants to be!”

“The widows are settled onto their bus, everyone’s got what they need. Carol said she could do with some more angry Lucky, she missed you apparently” Bruce sighed plopping down next to you silently checking over your figures.

“I’ve got everything packed so that it should only take the lighting crew and I two hours to shore up, which puts my productivity up by 30%” Vision shrugged putting his arm back around his beautiful wife.

“And I can move heavy things and take good photos. Also, I fixed that stage piece you were worried about and it is no longer does the rocky thingy.” Peter grinned giving you finger guns.

“Ugh, I love the sound of efficiency!” You sigh, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you throw your stuff in the bunk closest to the shower. “Thank you all for agreeing to take this on with me, I wanted you because you’re my A-team, and I knew that I couldn’t do this without you... plus I knew it would look fantastic on your resumes.” The crew in your bus gave a here here for that statement.

“So, Barnes. How do you plan to tackle that battle?” Peter said plopping down on top of Wanda and Vision as if they were just two decorative pillows. “He’s gotta strong will and a heady brooding nature, rough shit I tell yah.”

“Not to mention the fact that he’s incredibly handsome,” Wanda said pushing Peter to the floor, “We know you’re a pushover for that type!”

“Well lady and gentlemen, I plan to kick his ass into shape. Good looks and broody behavior be damned!” You huff.

“I may point out, that is not exactly a plan darling.” Vision says sympathetically patting you on the head as he carries his and Wanda’s things to the back of the bus.

“Well Viz, darling I am well aware of that. I have a plan. He’s gonna have to sober up. This behavior isn’t normal for him, his band mates and Tony have made that clear, he’s on the string for some girl that couldn’t have given less of a shit about him, so he’s all fucked in the head. MY job, is going to be reminding him he’s a goddamn rock star, who doesn’t need a bitch like that to make him happy!” You gesticulate as you unpack the supplies you’d need for a shower. “Then, all should be well with the world again, and I can go back to managing tours that don’t make me want to kill myself.”

——————————————————————————

“Say Stevie, that uh, that Kentucky sure is one tough dame right?” Bucky say’s as he charges shirts, “gotta lot of spunk?”

“Yeah Buck, she’s a real hot head when she wants to be, but she’s fantastic at this. I’ve not seen a better organized tour in my life!” He hears his best friend laugh from the front.

“Not to mention,” Sam started from his position on the couch, “she’s one hot mama, veeeeeery fine. You can tell she knows it too. I wonder if she likes dark chocolate, I think I should find out.”

Bucky felt anger deep in his gut at Sam’s teasing, but for the life of him he can’t figure out why. He dosent need another relationship, hell, dosent want one. That only leads to broken hearts and empty bottles... broken hearts and empty bottles... a little cliche but he could make it work. He’d write it down later. Right now, his sole purpose was intel. Gathering as much info on Kentucky as he could.

“Gotta make sure she’s not already tied up Sammy boy!” He laughed, “besides, I think she likes Seargents.” He winked.

“Well if it’s information on the lady Kentucky you want, I’ve got you covered.” The big braun-y security guy Thor chuckled, “she’s single as it comes, bad break up with some hot douche bag in some other band. Wasn’t pretty that breakup, I tell yah. Frankie and I had to beat the guys face in to get him off her door step, she started road managing in order to get away from him, being constantly on the move made her a moving target, it worked better that way.”

“Sheesh, any ideas on that band name? I’d hate to bump into them sometime.” Bucky shook his head, “she sounds like a tough lady.”

“Oh she is,” Thor chuckled, “got some rough and tumble to her, she’s good at what she does. Hydra? I think that’s the name at least.”

“Sheesh,” Steve muttered, “She messes around with hard hitters huh? Hydra is huge on the pop punk charts, they’re not topping out on the hot 100 or anything, but they pull a decent crowd for sure.”

“Yeah, this isn’t the first time I’ve heard stories about them being absolute dicks either,” said Sam, “poor thing. I hate that for her.”

“She’s a good lady, really, she’s always so kind, goes out of her way to learn names and remember important dates, never afraid to pitch in where she’s needed. You guys are lucky to have her for this tour.” Thor nods, putting his things away and laying down in his bunk.

“Yeah, very lucky.” Bucky nods, daydreaming about a woman he just met. This was gonna be a long tour.

——————————————————————————

Their first stop was in Nevada. Los Vegas, baby. The first show of the tour was at the colosseum at Ceaser’s palace. This meant discounted hotel rooms, larger merch sales, and quite a bit of press was involved, but you were ready to take on the challenge. You arrived in Los Vegas around 6am, all of the bands stumbling off their respective busses and making their way towards the resteraunts in the hotel. You and Bruce headed off to snag hotel keys, and settle the bands into place. Wanda, Vis, and Peter, headed with the rest of the crew and the equipment trucks to the Venue for set up.

“Alright Bruce, you get the Widows settled in their rooms, I’ll take care of the boys. Tell the girls their press is at 10 and their rehearsal will be at noon, they are to be at the venue no later than 9:15. They will arrive and go straight to Wanda, who has outfit options, and makeup. They have a lunch break at 2:00, and they need to be at the venue by 5:00 for their sound check at 5:30, curtain is at 7:30.” You rattled off handing Bruce back stage passes and a few printed copies of tonight’s schedule. “I’ll meet you outside in twenty to send the busses to the venue.” Bruce gave you a tiny salute and you wandered off to find the Commandos. You found them sitting in a resteraunt, a waiter bringing them their drinks. You noticed Bucky had a screwdriver, now that just wouldn’t do. You snatched the glass from him right as the waiter was about to put it in his hand, slamming it back in one go.

“Woohoo! Good morning Kentucky!” Clint laughed clapping with Steve and Sam, who were pointing at a dumb struck Bucky.

“Damn, sugar! I didn’t know you had it in you this early!” Sam laughed.

“We,” you said gesturing between Bucky and yourself, “will take water and a coffee.” You said to the waiter with a wink. “Good morning boys! We’re in for a good one today! Starting off at the colosseum is a great first gig! Now I hate to be a downer, but unfortunately, I gotta lay down the law. This tour will have a no show day drinking policy. Zero tolerance, breaking this rule leads to a prohibition to the breakers caffeine supply, and lands you in a bunk in Frankies bus with the newbies. The only exceptions are exactly one pre show shot and or beer for last minute jitters, or a celebratory toast. Any other hard day drinking will lead to repricutions. Rule number two, I run a right ship, I do not appreciate tardiness. I went easy on you the first day, but here on in, if you are late by more than ten minutes, I will assume you’re dead and send the cops to come find you. Very loud, very messy, and definitely will make the news. So, do I make myself clear?” You looked around and met their gazes everyone seemed to be okay with these rules, except Bucky.

“What the hell lucky? Am I some kinda child or something? No drinking? No tardiness? Am I a high schooler? Jesus, you gotta pair on you if you think that I, a grown ass man would ev-“ your food came about five words into his little tirade, and as soon as the waiter left your food, you shoved a roll in Bucky’s mouth.

“Stuff it Brooklyn, we wouldn’t fuckin NEED these rules if you could get your ass together for five minutes to see what you’re doing! Your drunkenness has made you sloppy, you’re late on your due dates, your waisting Tony’s time and money on your pouty bullshit, and your friends are worried about you. So yes, we’re gonna have rules, they will have consequences, and I’ll beat your ass myself if you show the inability to get it together!” You rant jabbing your finger into his chest to get your point across. “Now, eat your waffles, here’s your schedules, and if you are not showered and decently dressed at the colosseum by 10 am sharp, so help me God I’ll call the cops.” With that you gathered your coffe and your purse and stalked away. Handing Steve they’re schedules, passes, and hotel keys as you went. It was gonna be a long night, you could feel it.

“Did anyone else find that extremely sexy?” Sam asked, and by god Bucky couldn’t help it, he nodded in agreement.

—————————————————————————

Steve and Bucky followed eachother up to their floor of the hotel, crew, secrity, and bands took up the entire fifth floor. Later tonight, when everyone actually got to unload after the show, It would be a real party, people leaving their doors open, coolers of beer, goods and services being exchanged, instruments and duffle bags and food being passed from room to room, it was Bucky’s personal favorite part of the evening.

Right now, it was sad and empty. So, he showered, and he went to sleep. At approximately 10:15 am, Bucky was rudely awakened by a pounding on his door. He looked at the time and he jumped to his feet so fast he almost broke his neck tripping on his sheets. Kentucky was gonna kill him. He just hoped to God whoever was outside his door didn’t drag him out of the hotel in handcuffs.

“Ok Bucky, time to shine!” He muttered to himself and threw open the door. Outside was quite possibly the largest man he’s ever seen, and he was no pipsqueak himself, he towered over bucky by at least a foot, and his biceps were roughly the size of his head. “Hello there, seeing as you’re not in a police uniform, you must be Frankie.” The big man grunted his assent. “Ok then, may we g-“

“Listen here pretty boy, I don’t care if your famous, you hurt Kentucky? I hurt you. Understood?” His voice felt like a blast of attic wind. It made Bucky shiver. Where was this coming from? How would he hurt Kentucky, it’s not like she would ever date him, he couldn’t even get a woman to Mary him, let alone bag an absolute catch like Lucky.

“Yes sir, won’t happen again.” Bucky saluted like he was still in the service then realized what he was doing and always my scratched his head. “Can we?” He pointed at the door, hoping against all odds to escape this absolute shit show of a conversation.

“By the way kid? You’re lucky she didn’t send the cops.”

——————————————————————————

At the colosseum, Y/N was pracitcaply putting a hole in the rug of their dressing rooms, while the various other band mates who bothered to show up on time, sat there bored out of their minds.

“I’m gonna kill him,” you muttered, biting at your bottom lip.

“No your not mama,” Natasha laughed from the couch, “You think he’s sexy, you don’t burn fine art.”

“Dammit, you’re right.” You sighed throwing your hands in the air and plopping dow on top of her and Peggy who were sitting next to eachother looking at dress designs Wanda sent them for SNL next month.

“I like the black one Nat, the red detailing is classy and fun.” You mutter, Peggy nods in agreement.

“I like Wanda’s idea of us all having black dresses with different colors, we could do it 1950’s style and put our hair up? I think it would look really cool. Fits the vibe of our song choice.” Peggy says casually flipping through the designs.

“Carol and I respectfully request to wear suits if that’s ok?” MJ pipes up, “I think two and two will look cool.” She shrugs, I’ll do the regular hair and makeup though.”

“Can I get a broad brim mobster hat?” Carol asks popping up from her place on the floor beside MJ’s chair.

“Yes, I like this idea. SNL will like it too I bet.” Wanda nodded. “If they let Megan and Billie do what they want, I’m guessing your performance will be just as accepted. That and it can be in black and white. Rami Malik is also the perfect host for that. I’ll pitch it to their team.���

“How about you boys, any ideas? You’re the week after.” Wanda said looking towards the Comandos who had already made it.

“I like the Jailhouse rock Idea! I think we sh-” Just then, Frankie walked in holding James by the collar.

“Put him down Frankie,” you sigh “he’s an ass, but we need him.” After Frankie let him go, he brushed himself off and grinned at you sheepishly. “You better have a damn good explanation for this.” You grind out.

“Over slept?”

“Im gonna kill him”

——————————————————————————

All in all, the show went off without a hitch, the bands both sailed through their songs beautifully, and earned themselves an encore. However, on the last encore of the night, Bucky made things a little more interesting.

“This last one, goes out for a little special someone!” When he said that, you could swear he winked at you.

“Hey hey mama said the way you move” when he held out that move? You could feel your soul shake. He was going it slow, taking the opening slow to really get the crowd worked up. It was like he was expressly trying to lock eyes with you, seat his irises into your soul. “Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove.” Then when the first two lines were done and they kicked into tempo, you remembered where you were, what you were doing, and you let the song echo behind you, as you went to help Wanda pack up the dressing room.

What was that look? What game was he playing at? He couldn’t want to mess around with you, you were a nobody. He was James Barnes, lead singer of one of the biggest bands of the decade, he had no interest in you. You were a road manager, a stick in the mud, a hard headed know it all. He dosent know a thing about you and dosent want you. You were just getting caught up in the music right?

[queerchoicesblog]

La Vie Bohème

Hiya, folks! So, as previously announced, the wlw writing project continues after a break with a miniseries set back in the City of Lights - & Love - at the time of the Belle Epoque, at the turn of the century.

The story of Élodie and Léa continues: what’s next?

Next chapter out on Monday, I think!

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions to homophobia, reference to sexual activity (if you are a minor or it bothers you in any way, you have been warned)

Tagging: @scottishqueer​

Previous chapters: Paris, Paris ; One Night At The Moulin Rouge , The Handkerchief, The Cage of Fools

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

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The following day I wake up late, around lunchtime. My roommates are all out: Marie left me a note saying she's out for a walk with Alain. Poor Marie, what a concerned look she gave me last night when she saw me sneaking inside our room without my coat! I had to craft a wild story to justify my attire and being so late. I can only hope she believed me...at least, she didn't ask too many questions. I head to the kitchen and warm up the stew leftover my friend saved for me. The events of the night are blurred, they waltz together in a haze: the Moulin Rouge, the Cage of Fools and the jigs I danced with Élodie, her perfume, her laughter, the violet a gallant admirer sent me, then the gendarmes, the clash of their batons, our mad run. The sad look on Élodie's face, the little kiss she pressed on my knuckles parting.

I wash myself and head out for a walk too, wrapping myself in the only other coat I have, much lighter than the lost one. My neighbourhood is certainly not renewed for attractions but it's Sunday and everyone is out to enjoy their day off. Some kids almost collide with me while chasing each other while an old lady nearby invites every passerby to try her apple tart, cheap and decadent, she repeats. Last night was the wildest night I've ever had in my whole life. After the initial embarrassment, I felt incredidibly...happy. I felt like floating on air when Élodie spun me in her arms or when we had a toast at our new friendship. Why did it end so soon? Who called the gendarmes and why they wanted to arrest those people who were just having fun? I don't get it...people crossdress every day now on the stages of cabaret theatres and no one ever complains. Their acts receive thunderous applauses and some artists have adoring fans every night. Why is it so different to call for a mass arrest? The men and women at the Cage of Fools were just doing what popular crossdress artists do: singing, dancing, making sure everybody was merry and bright. Was it because of the two men kissing a few tables away from where we sat? Nobody cared there, I didn't care, honestly. But now that I think of it, that might be the cause. Crossdressing performers never kiss each other on stage. I walk up to a hill into a second hand marketplace, hoping to find a replacement for my old coat I can afford. Could it be that my friend Élodie is a...how do they call them? A sapphic? I heard the word for the first time when I worked as a maid at the uncle Yves' client house. Madame pronounced it with ill grace, speaking of one of their acquaintances while I served breakfast. When I went back to the kitchen, I asked the cook the meaning of the unknown word, that I assumed a fancy insult: my masters wanted to play the role of the rich and the rich don't share the same language with us commoners. They invent new words, more fitted to their uptown world, not tainted with the smell of the street. The lady got all red and threw me a cloth, scolding me for eavesdropping a conversation and warning me to mind my own business. Needless to say my curiosity ran wild and I finally got an answer a few days later when I asked to the maid of a visiting guest. Could it be? The following week is pretty eventful: an important commission and Marie receiving a letter from home, urging her to go back to Aergenteuil to help assisting a sick relative. They would have never asked, knowing all the trouble that would cause her, if they could have done otherwise, her parents wrote. Marie is very close to that aunt and she sobbed in my arms at the thought of losing her and the job all at once. It took time to me and our roommates to comfort her. I told her that she didn't have to worry about the job: we will talk to the girls tomorrow and we will cover for her during her absence. If most agree to help, it will only mean a few extra hours each. Luckily, Marie is well loved at work so things run relatively smoothly, despite the boss' evident contempt. She profuses in an endless series of thank you and praises when I walk her to the carriage station at dawn before heading straight to work. We hug and I give her a tiny slice of that cheap and decadent apple tart the old lady sells at the crossroad. A little treat for the journey home, the only one I can afford. "You're a true friend, Léa. I will never forget this" she says, eyes veiled with tears before taking her seat on board. As the carriage disappears from view, I realise it's the first time we are separated from each other since we first met. Predictably, I end up missing her: we've been around each other for so long that now not walking back home with her, working side by side and sharing lunch on the staircase makes me feel a bit empty, as if a part was missing. Marcel and Alain are busy with work too as festivities approach fast and I have my fair share of Marie's work to worry about. However, from time to time, when I'm not so tired I only want to touch the bed, I pay a visit to the Moulin Rouge. The first time Élodie spots me, she runs straight into my arms, hugging me tightly: she must have thought she would never see me again after our misadventure with the gendarmes. She lets me assist to the acts backstage and I get to befriend other dancers, now used to see me around. I even fix their costumes if they get damaged during the performance. I do it gladly, even if it adds up to my daily amount of work. I usually gets cheek kisses or champagne as payment but sometimes, despite my deflections, they drop some coins into my hand, arguing that the Moulin Rouge tailor is half as good as me. When it happens, instead of saving them, I go buy a dinner at a bistro nearby with Élodie. I'm always starving but she never makes jokes of me for that. I tell her about Marie and the extra hours and, in return, she pretends not to be so hungry and offers me her slices of bread or some mashed potatoes "she won't eat anyway". We talk for hours, until I can keep my eyelids open. We start seeing each other more often. I must admit it's relatively easier now that I don't have to worry about bothering Marie and my friends are busy. Only my roommates look at me differently: I'm positive they suspect I have a secret lover. Now my day off is split between a little work at home in the morning and Élodie. We stroll down the Tuileries Gardens, arm in arm to protect each other against the cold. Élodie loves this place: she doesn't care it's overly popular, to her it's a testament to the the beautiful things people can create, an urban Eden. Who am I to contradict her? The Palace in the distance, the trees, the quiet murmur of the Seine nearby...it's rather gorgeous. One day we bump into a couple of her friends of the Cage of Fools. I could barely recognise gracious Pierrette in her male clothes. She goes by Pierre during the day. "Amélie" the other woman says, offering a hand to shake and I recognise one of Élodie's friends who were playing cards. "We've already met but I don't think I properly introduced myself". I assure her that I remember her. Then, lowering my voice as if I don't know if I can speak freely about it, I ask them about the fate of the Cage. Pierre/Pierrette frowns, she's one of the owners and had a hard time being released by the gendarmes after the arrest. The bar and ballroom is still closed, the authorities denies a reopening. They're planning a night incursion to retrieve all the lost goods, if there's any left. But so far it's hard to tell what will be of the Cage. Then, noticing my sullen expression, she adds: "It will open up again, darling. It's Paris, Pigalle: places like this always rise from their own ashes. We just don't know when and how" We all share a weak smile. The silence is broken by Élodie. "I was thinking of throwing a little party at my place to cheer up the mood" "At your place? But how?" Amélie inquiries, skeptic but intrigued. "A roof party, so there will be space for anyone. We can lit some fires to keep warm. You're all invited and I will ask some girls at the Moulin. A little feast to forget about our sorrows" True to her word, the next week, when I receive a letter from Marie informing me of her upcoming return, she proudly announces me that the party is happening: it's on Saturday night after the act at the Moulin. "Will you be there?" she asks, taking my hand into hers. The sudden gesture draws a smile on my face. We now seat together in bars and bistros very different from the Cage of Fools and I've come to miss casual touches like this. We've been very careful since that raid, especially Élodie. "Of course, I will" I nod over a steamy bowl of soup. She claps her hands excitedly, flashing me a bright smile before scribbling down an address on a scrap of paper she retrieved God knows where. Then she hands it to me. "Don't be late, I'll be waiting for you" Her words colour my cheeks rosy, the warmth in her voice unmistakable. Unsurprisingly, she lives in Monmarte, the artist neighbourhood. I arrive early, afraid to be late. I ate my dinner with great haste once back from work and spent a whole hour getting ready, a detail that -I do not doubt it- cemented my roommates' theory of the secret affair. I washed myself, did my hair up just like Marie taught me, and put on my best dress, which is nothing fancy but I am quite fond of the colour and its lacy sleeves. Once I put kohl on my eyes and some rouge on my lips, I head off into the night. When I finally arrive, I spot some familiar faces in front of the building: Léa's friends. I wave at them and they greet me with affability as if we've known each other for a while. "Good evening, Léa. You're radiant tonight" Pierrette says, kissing both my cheeks. I'm glad to see her back in her female clothes, she even placed a flower in her hair for the occasion. "Élodie hasn't arrived yet, she and the girls must be on their way" Amélie informs me, rubbing her hands. I say that it's fine especially if you're in good company. We chat, hugging ourselves and I discover that they all works as secretaries, bar Pierrette who is "an unsuspecting accountant by day, the best bartender in town by night". Just then, a cheerful choir of voices resounds in the street, approaching. We turn and it's the dancers of the Moulin Rouge. They cheer and wave at us, swaying bottles of wine and champagne raided from the theatre. After a quick round of kisses and loud greetings, we all run up the stairs before catching a cold. Élodie's apartment is messy and rather small for the number of guests attending the party so we quickly take the stairs and head to the roof. The sight is gorgeous: as the others light a couple of fires and one of the dancers harmonises an accordion, I take a moment to admire it. From the top of the hill, Paris lays beneath us like an ocean of light and chimney smoke. An intoxicating combination of misery and beauty I have never seen before. Someone taps my shoulder and I turn to see Carmine, one of Élodie's colleagues, handing me a glass of wine. It's stronger than I expect but I keep sipping it as we chat, grateful to have something to kindle my bones in the cold. A lively tune starts playing and we all share a toast to our host, who performs an exaggerated reverie in full response. The atmosphere is bubbly: some dance, others chat and crack jokes with each other...everyone is in good spirits. I wonder if this is the life my new friend is used to, so careless and free. So different from the one I know. What does she see in me? My ordinary seamstress routine, my life....is a stale dry biscuit in comparison to what she does. I'm saved by the male dance, Laurent, who asks me to dance. I accept: after all, I am here to enjoy myself and he will lead, I only have to follow his moves. As we sway I catch Élodie looking in my direction while chatting with the girls and drinking wine. I have no recollection of how much time we spent there, I remember walking down the stairs arm in arm with Amélie. As some guests take their leave, we gather in the living room and the the tiny kitchen downstairs to keep warm. Laurent produces himself in an impression of Monsieur Ziegler that elicits a general round of laughters. Pierrette and one of the girls sing one last song, a popular duet for the "last ones standing" then say goodbye. When the last guest walks out of the door, Élodie turns towards me. "Stay and help me sinking that?" she asks, nodding at a half empty bottle of champagne. Before I can answer, she's already looking for two glasses. She returns with just one. "You have the glass, I take the bottle" she announces. I laugh at the tipsy note in her voice as she pours liquid ambrosia in my glass. "What?" she chuckles. "Just saying that maybe you should take a seat, mademoiselle" I tease her, guiding her to the sofa. She rolls her eyes and obliges...then at last minute, she pulls me down too. Some champagne sloshes over the rim of my glass but I find a seat beside her. We both giggle. "To the best party host in Paris" I raise my glass. She smiles and mirrors my gesture. "To the most gracious guest, the pearl of Roscoff" We cling our glasses and I blush a little, diverting my eyes. When I look back at here, her eyes rests dreamy on a painting laid nearby on the floor. One of her roommates is a painter, she explains absentmindedly, he finished it yesterday. I tell her she's a real bohemienne, living in the artist quarter with a painter.... "An actress and a music-hall trumpet player. And I'm a dancer myself!" she adds. Then she falls quiet. She smiles to herself, a rather melancholic smile, as if she's contemplating her whole life. "La vie bohème...that's the life I chose" she says after a while. "I've never thought I would achieve that though. I've never thought I would get this far" "How come?" I sit more comfortably and she takes a gulp of champagne before speaking again. She was born in Bordeaux, a place now filled with memories of a lonely grim childhood. Her mother was, is -since she's still alive as far as she knows- a prostitute, who spent more time walking the streets than cuddling her little girl. Sometimes she received clients at home and Élodie ran hiding in the filthy toilet in the garden until they were gone. She never knew who her father was but she likes to think it was a tormented poet or a travelling artist...more likely and ironically, he could have been a gendarme off duty or the spoilt heir of a local noble with a taste for the sordid cheap pleasures the streets of the suburbs offer after dark. Her mother wasn't kind to her -one day when she had a bit too much, she admitted she never wanted a child- but provided for her. She was the one teaching her the can-can. "Decades ago only prostitutes danced like this, now it's different...but I guess it's part of the profession lore, so to speak" she laughs sombrely. "I mean, some girls at the Moulin still do that, dancing and selling their graces to paying admirers. I suppose it's easy to cross the line if you always want more and more and adulation is a weird poison. I don't judge them, if no one is forcing them to do so, they can do what they want...." She turns towards me, placing her hand over mine. I give it a squeeze. "I don't do that, Léa. I don't do that...I saw what that life did to my mother, what it turned her into and when one morning I packed my things and left, I swore to myself to ever do that, even if money was running low, if I could avoid it. I was barely sixteen when I arrived here, alone, in Paris. I was lucky enough to find kind people who didn't take advantage of me...and I...and I started to dance. Dancing gave me freedom" I don't know what made her so suddenly nostalgic, maybe it's the alcohol we had tonight. But her story makes me appreciate her even more: the world has been unkind to her at first, filling her childhood with hardships, but she fought back. She danced away from her misery with ineffable grace and dignity like a brave butterfly. "And now look at you: you're Lila, star of la quadrille" I flash her a bright smile. "I'm proud of you" She laughs softly. "Are you?" "Yes, of course!" I sit a bit straighter, as if it could give my word more authority. "You've faced adversities and you went so far. Only the most talented dancers are allowed to perform in la quadrille!" "You read it somewhere?" "Everybody knows that!" I exclaim, amused and surprised by her skepticism. Then, to prove my point, I hand her my glass and stand. I find a spot clear enough and declare astonished: "Like, I could never dance like you do every night!" And I start mimic the can-can routine at my best, that I'm pretty sure turns out to be a grotesque parody of the real dance. I do it to amuse her and I smile when I finally hear her laughing. She places the bottle and the glass back on the floor and claps her hands, whistling like some spectators do at the Moulin. "What? No, don't clap, that was just silly!" I dismiss her, chuckling. "Well, whatever that was it was...something" she shrugs before bursting into another laughter, softer this time. "Whatever it was? Hear hear, a can-can dancer who doesn't even recognise it!" I make a scene to be offended and throw her a cushion from the nearest armchair. She ducks just in time to avoid it. We both giggle then she stroke her chin and regards me more carefully, pensive. "You have enthusiasm but you lack technique" "Told you I'm a bad dancer" I shrug. The memory of the two of us dancing at the Cage of Fools crosses my mind like a meteor and my heart starts racing again in my chest. "May I?" she says, standing. I nod even if I don't know what she means exactly. I get it when she saunters closer and positions herself behind me. When she gently places her hands on my hips, I inhale sharply. "First of all, you need to loosen up a bit. You're too wooden...sway your hips, like this" She hums the melody of Offenbach and guides my movements so that they match the rhythm. Again, it doesn't take long before I surrender and follow her lead. I don't know how long we sway like this, I must have closed my eyes. I only hear her voice behind me. "See, definite improvement! Now rise your skirt up a little" I freeze and turn towards her. My cheeks warm up and I try to blame the wine I had. "You don't want to trip over your skirt while dancing this, you can hurt yourself" she smiles encouragely. "That's why you do that then...I would have thought..." I shake my head but do as she says. I bend down and reach for the hem of my long skirt then I grab it as I saw the dancers do and lift it up till my the height of my knees. "Well, that's one reason" "I knew there were ulterior motives" I laugh. "The Moulin is not exactly a convent, right? You have to show your legs to the paying audience" she explains, mocking Monsieur Ziedler's voice. "They pay good money for them" "I see no paying audience though" I chuckle, turning my head slightly. "Because you have little imagination, mademoiselle Pearl" she whispers into my ear. Her breath hot on my skin sends a shiver down my spine and my heart pounding against my ribs. "Ready for the gallop? Three, two, one-" "Wait, wait-" Before I can process what's happening, under the lead of Élodie, we gallop from one side of the room to the other, moving laterally like crabs. I understand now: I saw this move over and over during the acts. Élodie gives directions and tells me to sway the skirt as we move. We soon end up laughing again when we almost trip over a tin box on the floor. When we stop, I feel dizzy and lean back against her for sustain. "Enough of that" she announces between laughters. "Now, knee up, girl!" I oblige and start jumping on my other feet. My balance becomes way more precarious. To think that dancers like Élodie make this look so easy...I let out a shriek as I fear of tripping. She encourages me to rise my knee even higher up to my chest. "But I will fall!" "I'll catch you" she reassures me, holding my hips a bit tighter. "C'mon, Léa, a bit higher...higher...yes, like this! You're a natural...and now kick!" I follow her instructions and my kick sends the books on top of a pile nearby flying across the room. It's a miracle they don't land over the painting. "Well, that's one hell of a kick, darling!" Élodie cheers as I lower my leg. Her laughter is contagious, I soon join and we don't stop until we're out of breath. Then I throw my head back and it finds her shoulder. We're still in the same position. I can feel her chest rising and falling against my back and her hands on me. I slowly turn my face towards her and find her looking back at me. We go quiet, trying to catch our breaths. Has she always been so beautiful? This whole time? I remember her cheerfulness, the way she let me spin into her arms and listened to me, resting her chin on her hand at the Cage. How she immediately grabbed my hand at first sign of danger, the tender light in her eyes when our faces were inches apart in that back alley. I decide to do what probably she failed to do that night: I follow my instinct, without thinking twice. I lean forward and brush my lips over hers. A tentative kiss, the lazy stroke of a shy lover. She mirrors my move and our hands move almost at unison: hers around my waist, resting on my stomach; mine over hers, stroking her wrists and intertwining our fingers. The kiss that follows makes me tingle in her arms as a fire erupts underneath my skin. She kisses me again on her own accord this time: it's surprisingly tender and it tastes of rouge, champagne and a refrained passion that finally finds its way. My knees go suddenly weak and I feel dizzy again, lost in our embrace, lost in her. She whispers my name like a prayer and I spin to wrap my arms around her neck and kiss her again. Her hands run up my back, holding me close as if I could run away any minute but there is nowhere else I would like to be now. I cannot refrain a moan when her lips find my jaw and brush over my neck: they burn on my skin and I wish she would never stop. Our kisses become more fervent and fierce as we backpedal down the corridor, bumping into the walls yet uncaring of anything else than the sudden fire consuming us. Élodie pulls me into what must be her room because she kicks the door shut and we soon tumble over a mattress. I fall on top of her, letting out a giggle. I go quiet when I meet her eyes. Illuminated only be the moon light she's the most enchanting vision I've ever seen. Her hair messy and sprawled beneath her, the ruby red of her lips so close I barely refrain myself from running a finger over them. She looks up at me, her eyes gleaming like stars. She reaches out and touches my cheek. She strokes it gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. She looks...in awe, vulnerable, adoring. For a moment I wonder if that's what lovers feel when they look at each other, when they lay in each other arms: a sweet ache of the heart, the purest amazement. "Kiss me again" I whisper, begging as a mendicant even if I don't need to. She finds my mouth again and again and runs her fingers through my hair. I place one hand on her chest and I feel her tremble imperceptibly at my touch. She suffocates a gasp against my lips while her heart hammers underneath my fingertips. I whisper her name this time and I kiss her jaw just like she did earlier, mirroring her moves. My hand runs down her side: I'm too lost in her to know what I'm doing. When I feel her knee beneath the fabric, I caress backwards up her tight, rising her skirt. That's when it happens. Élodie squirms and grabs my hand. She breaks the kiss and asks me to stop. Suddenly ashamed of my hunger, I retrieve my hand and prop myself up. My cheeks must turn crimson when I mutter my apologies. "I'm- I'm sorry, I thought you wanted it too" I let her space to move freely. Hiding her face from me, she sits on the edge of the bed for a moment, breathing hard. Then she stands. I sit and try to compose myself. "What I want....that's not the point" she sighs. "What do you mean?" I ask, confused. "Did I do something wrong?" She still gives me her shoulder. When she speaks again, she hangs her head, defeated. "This has nothing to do with you, Léa. God, no, if you only knew..." She sounds on the verge of tears but she must swallow them back because when she turns to face me her voice is less cracked even if she looks in pain. "Léa, I like you. Way more than I should and since the moment I bumped into you and you talked of fireworks. I gave you my handkerchief only as a mere expedient to see you again and you what you did? You turned it into a little work of art for me and you barely knew me back then. You have a kind word for everyone, you're helping your roommate in a moment of need without asking for anything in return. You're a good girl, one of the most honest girl I know and I..." She takes a deep breath before shaking her head forlornly. "You didn't even fully realise what happened at the Cage" I keep quiet for a moment then I speak, keeping my voice low and fiddling with the hem of a sleeve as a kid being scolded: "The gendarmes wanted to arrest everyone because there were...sapphics and men kissing other men. And people like Pierrette there" I say because I don't know if there are words for them that aren't insults. "...Yes" she confirms, meeting my gaze again. Seeing her now, one could doubt the very same girl was laughing and having a blast one hour ago or so. She looks so troubled, her eyes a mix of tenderness and sorrow. Guilt, maybe. "Léa, I...I would spend the night with you. You wouldn't even have to ask me. But-" she grimaces and my heart skips a beat, bracing for the worst. "What will happen when you hear that this is illegal, that people get sent to jail or the asylum -you remember? We joked about the asylum- for things like this? Because the authorities say it's like an...an illness, a taint-" "Why are you telling me all this?" I protest, standing too. "Because that's what happens out there! It took days to get Pierrette out of jail" she exclaims. "I should have never taken you there, I've been such a fool-" "You're a good girl too, Élodie" I interrupts her, reaching for her hand. "Don't tell me you doubt that" She looks down at our hands then meets my eyes, forlorn. "Am I though?" her sad smile pierces through my heart. "I almost got you arrested that night, little pearl. What would have your boss or your friends said if we hadn't been fast enough and those gendarmes had locked us in together with the others? You barely knew me back then, you would have hated me and I couldn't have blamed you" "But I don't hate you!" Now I am the one on the verge of crying. "We...we would have found a way out, I'm sure of that!" Élodie smiles at me, a weak pained smile. She retrieves her hand and caresses my cheek. "Maybe we would have, just like in one of those ballads chanteuses sing" she sighs. "But the truth is I care too much for you and so far I've only been a reckless fool, a selfish reckless fool. I could never forgive myself if you-" Words got stuck in her throat and she lowers her eyes for a moment. Then she presses a soft kiss on my forehead. "It's too late to walk the street alone at night. You can stay here tonight and...you can take the bed, I'll take the sofa" Having said that, she walks away. "Élodie, you don't have to...please, stay" I beg, hoping to stop her but when I turn she's already closing the door behind her. I consider the idea of running after her but I soon realise it would be absolutely pointless and I don’t want to make things worse. I stand for a moment, shaken. Then I lay down on the bed still warm of our embrace and look out into the night. The moon that made Élodie look even more beautiful and ethereal is still up there in the sky but now I'm alone. Silent tears rim my cheeks. I lay awake for hours, unable to sleep. For some reason I know that Élodie is doing the same.

[obaewankenope]

Chapter Three of The Second Life of Sandu Shengshou:

.

Jiang Cheng has to tell his siblings. He has to. He knows this. He wants to do this.

Jiang Cheng is terrified of telling his siblings.

He’s still terrified even as he drags them back to their shared room at Cloud Recess and locks the doors with a warding talisman. The talisman doesn’t harm anyone who tries to enter the room but it does act like the warding Wei Wuxian had created at the Burial Mounds. No one can enter and no one can tell what is going on inside the room until the talisman runs out or is cancelled.

A-Ying’s interest in the talisman is apparent and enough that Jiang Cheng promises his brother that he’ll show him another time.

If A-Ying will let Jiang Cheng near him ever again after what Jiang Cheng did to Wei Wuxian.

“A-Cheng,” A-Jie says softly, and it’s enough to have Jiang Cheng dropping to his knees in front of his siblings and reaching out with desperate hands. “A-Cheng, what is it?”

A-Jie and A-Ying look at him with matching concern on their faces, making Jiang Cheng’s chest ache from the openness of them both. They care about him, trust him and he’s about to tell them that he lost them both and didn’t trust them.

“I- I need to tell you-” He chokes.

A-Ying shuffles close to him and loops an arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders to press against his side. Although he knows his brother is giving him this freely, Jiang Cheng doesn’t feel like he deserves A-Ying’s kindness.

Jiang Cheng never deserved Wei Wuxian’s kindness, the sacrifices his brother made out of love, but Wei Wuxian made them anyway. A-Ying is no different.

That’s what makes telling him so terrifying.

“You both- you both know what happened to me,” he whispers, “that night. The night hunt.”

Jiang Cheng stares at the hand A-Jie holds in her own, focusing on the youth of it, the lack of years weathering the skin.

“I- it’s hard to explain, to tell you both,” he says, because it is. “I was able to tell Zewu-Jun easier!” Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “I know I died in that clearing that night, but I don’t remember dying then. I- I remember… I remember dying of old age. I- I didn’t cultivate for immortality because I didn’t- I didn’t want to do it with- with a core that wasn’t my own.”

Jiang Cheng is shaking but he only realises this when A-Jie lets go of his hand and instead moves forward to cup his face and make him look at her. His hand spasms and he grasps A-Jie’s forearm in lieu of her hand.

He looks up at his sister’s face when she lift his face up with her gentle touch. There’s tears in her eyes and the worry of a sister who loves her younger brother so very much, but there’s no doubt or disbelief.

Of course, A-Jie believes him. She’s watched him from the day he returned to Lotus Pier, fought their mother to a standstill and then proceeded to beat A-Ying sparring and teach A-Jie herself because he wants her strong and able to defend herself.

No normal night hunt could ever have produced such a dramatic change in a twelve-year-old.

Both of his siblings are intelligent; A-Jie hides it with her kindness and her smiles that always softened his parents’ disappointment with him, while A-Ying shows it off and draws attention to himself and reprimand away from Jiang Cheng.

“A-Cheng,” A-Jie says with a soft smile brimming with love that it hurts Jiang Cheng to see directed at him. “We believe you, A-Cheng.”

A-Jie glances at A-Ying and Jiang Cheng does too, turn his head in A-Jie’s hands to look at his brother. He’s afraid of what expression his brother will have on his face, of what thoughts he will be thinking but not sharing with Jiang Cheng about this.

It took him a long time to realise that Wei Wuxian wasn’t as rash and thoughtless as he acted; especially when it came to those he loved. His brother always thought about the consequences of his actions even if the consequences weren’t ones that Wei Wuxian considered important to himself.

Giving his golden core to Jiang Cheng and then having to become a demonic cultivator to survive the Burial Mounds; fighting a war with cultivators that feared and scorned him for the power he had; dying because it was the right thing to do in the end after fighting to protect innocents from being slaughtered. These were consequences Wei Wuxian didn’t foresee but accepted nonetheless because they hurt him more than they hurt those he loved.

Wei Wuxian always considered himself to be less worthy of love and consideration than he ever did Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng’s greatest fear in this second life is that A-Ying will feel the same.

He can’t handle losing his brother again. He can’t.

The look on A-Ying’s face is a mirror of A-Jie’s. Jiang Cheng is their younger brother to them, whether he’s twelve or one-hundred-and-three. They always want to protect him.

They can’t protect him from grief.

“I need to- I’m not making any sense, am I?” Jiang Cheng says weakly. A-Jie wipes a tear from his eye. “I need to explain it properly to you both. You- you deserve to know.”

“What about writing it down?” A-Ying suggests in a soft voice. Both A-Jie and Jiang Cheng look at him. “When my parents- when I came to Lotus Pier, I couldn’t talk about things- I still can’t,” he admits, still with that soft voice. “Writing stuff down helped. Maybe it’ll help here?”

Jiang Cheng never knew that about Wei Wuxian. He doesn’t know it about A-Ying. For the first time, Jiang Cheng wonders how much harder it was for his brother to lose his parents so young and to have no one there for him. It’s not that he never cared that Wei Wuxian was an orphan who was his father’s ward and his brother. No. But Jiang Cheng can’t pretend that he really sat down and considered the affect losing his parents at such a young age had on Wei Wuxian.

He knows the effect it had on Jin Ling.

“Forget it, it’s stupid,” A-Ying says, and he’s drawing back, arm slipping away from Jiang Cheng as he leans back, mistaking Jiang Cheng’s silence for judgement of his suggestion.

It’s anything but judgement.

“No!” Jiang Cheng grabs at A-Ying and A-Ying freezes. “No,” he says again, calmer. “It’s a good idea.”

A-Jie gracefully rises from where she’s knelt in front of Jiang Cheng. “Then you will need paper and ink,” she says and goes to get it from the writing desk. “We will wait for you to write what you need to, A-Cheng.”

There’s a lot he needs to tell them, a lot of things that are difficult to think about and even more difficult to put into words. For the moment, Jiang Cheng figures he needs to tell them the most important things, first.

He needs to tell them about the Wen attack of Lotus Pier. The burning of Cloud Recess. The deaths of mother and father. The Sunshot Campaign.

Jiang Cheng still has a lot to tell them even when he narrows it down to key things.

Each page he finishes with is passed to A-Ying and A-Jie who read it together. A-Jie is steady even as the information becomes more and more grim. A-Ying shows the seriousness that Jiang Cheng knows his brother is capable of but prefers to pretend he’s not. It’s a testament to how important A-Ying considers Jiang Cheng.

It makes Jiang Cheng’s eyes sting with tears he can’t let fall on the paper. They’ll ruin the ink if he does.

Wen Ruohan forbidding the other sects from night hunting. The indoctrination of the sect heirs. Lotus Pier. Wen Zhuliu. Wei Wuxian’s core. The Burial Mounds. The Sunshot Campaign. Nie Mingjue’s capture. Meng Yao. Jin Guangyao. Wen Qing. Wen Ning. Qiongqi Path. Nightless City.

The list seems endless but Jiang Cheng keeps going and going until his hand is cramping and the inkpot has run dry.

“A-Cheng,” A-Jie says softly. “A-Cheng, I think that’s enough.”

There’s more, though, that they should know. A-Jie deserves to know about her son. A-Ying about his. But the ink is gone and Jiang Cheng’s hand hurts and the brush is shaking and he doesn’t understand why-

Someone kneels beside him and wraps their arms around him, pulling him against their chest. A-Jie is in front of him, gently taking the brush from his hand and pressing her own hand over his, her fingertips glowing softly with spiritual energy that soothes the cramps in Jiang Cheng’s hand. She can’t be hugging him so that means it’s A-Ying.

A-Ying who just read the last page where Jiang Cheng blamed him for A-Jie’s death and sent Wei Wuxian to his own.

A-Ying who is still hugging his brother who killed him and doesn’t care that Jiang Cheng did something so unforgivable.

Jiang Cheng can’t help it. He can’t help the way he lets out a broken noise that rises from his core itself and rips out his throat like a wounded animal keening in pain. He is a wounded animal keening in pain, pain he can’t explain and can’t forget. A-Jie lets go of his hand and Jiang Cheng grabs at A-Ying’s robes, buries his head in his brother’s neck and sobs.

A-Jie wraps her arms around him too, pressing herself close on his other side, and Jiang Cheng reaches out blindly to wrap an arm around his sister and keep her close. They haven’t clutched at each other like this in years but Jiang Cheng can remember that day so long ago when the three of them huddled together and wept for what they’d lost.

This feels like he’s falling apart.

It feels a little like he’s being put back together one sob at a time.

 * * * *

 Watching A-Ying and Lan Wangji interact is still painful for Jiang Cheng because it’s like watching the worst theatre performance of a romance ever concocted. It’s horrible and disgusting and definitely more than Jiang Cheng wants to see so early in the morning.

“A-Ying!” He calls out, breaking another Lan rule about shouting—he broke that rule a lot in his first life because its a stupid rule and Jiang Cheng is a shouty person—as he marches toward his brother and Lan Wangji.

The way Lan Wangji straightens from the nearest Jiang Cheng has ever seen him slouch is a little comical, except for the fact that he’d been leaning closer to A-Ying who had been staring with star-struck eyes like a maiden.

Jiang Cheng will never say that out loud because A-Jie will know and she’ll remind him that she’s a maiden and not at all afraid of showing her brother that a maiden can be just as terrifying as Madam Yu. No; but he will think it.

“Stop flirting! We have a meeting to get to so get into your formal robes! Now!”

Jiang Cheng watches his brother flail like a fish stolen from the water with smug satisfaction. Lan Wangji looks, as ever to Jiang Cheng, like carved jade but his ears are reddening and that’s embarrassment! Jiang Cheng saw enough of that to know this teenaged Lan Wangji is embarrassed to be caught flirting with A-Ying.

Either he’s going to have to actually tell them straight that they’re soul mates and to please stop staring at each other like that, it’s disgusting or he’s going to have to endure A-Ying at his most lovesick.

Jiang Cheng sighs as he watches his brother literally flee to their room, leaving Lan Wangji to bow awkwardly to Jiang Cheng.

“What are your intentions with my brother?” Jiang Cheng knows that Lan Wangji doesn’t care for politics and will never respond overly well to Jiang Cheng trying to be polite. So Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother. “And don’t lie and pretend you don’t have any, Lan Wangji, because then I’ll have to punch you for messing with my brother’s heart.”

Lan Wangji actually gives Jiang Cheng an identifiable expression for once—in this life at least; Jiang Cheng is very familiar with Lan Wangji’s looks of contempt, disdain and hatred—which mainly centres around hopeful embarrassment.

Obviously Lan Wangji is stupidly in love with his brother and seems to think A-Ying doesn’t return the sentiment.

Fuck but they’re both stupid.

“Listen,” Jiang Cheng says and he hates that he’s being nice to Lan Wangji but he had to learn to share his brother with Hanguang-Jun once after years of enmity, so he can learn to share with a Lan Wangji that hasn’t settled on being a dick to Jiang Cheng for the rest of his days. “A-Ying is smart, dangerously smart, but he’s also sort of stupid. Oblivious stupid.”

“Wei Ying is not stupid.” Lan Wangji has a frown on his face and honestly, if it weren’t in relation to his brother, Jiang Cheng might find that sort of expression kind of endearing. As it is, it’s disgusting.

“He is about some things,” Jiang Cheng says, ignoring the way Lan Wangji’s frown deepens. Apparently a thirteen-year-old Lan Wangji hasn’t mastered his facial expressions as expertly as Jiang Cheng assumed he had. “A-Ying is oblivious to people caring about him. He doesn’t get affection the way others do. Doesn’t- he doesn’t think it’s for him even if you tell him it is.”

Lan Wangji’s frown shifts to something a lot more depressing than Jiang Cheng has ever expected to see from Hanguang-Jun but Lan Wangji was never emotionally open to Jiang Cheng. Apparently, that’s not the case in this life.

It’s useful but still strange and Jiang Cheng has no doubt that in any other situation that doesn’t involve his brother, Lan Wangji would be absolutely unreadable for Jiang Cheng. He’s not A-Ying after all, he can’t understand Lan Wangji the way his brother clearly does.

Red string of fate, indeed.

“You can’t just show him that you care, you have to be clear about it and tell him over and over. A-Jie and I spent weeks telling him he was our brother and that we loved him before he began to hope we were being honest with him.” Jiang Cheng gives away a precious memory to Lan Wangji because he has to understand his brother.

Wei Ying will love everyone and show them kindness but he’ll never believe he deserves it in return.

Jiang Cheng, A-Jie, and now Lan Wangji, have an obligation to remind him always that he deserves and is worthy of their love and kindness.

“Wei Ying has been hurt.” Lan Wangji looks at Jiang Cheng.

“He was found by my father when he was young, but he had- yeah, yeah, he’s got a lot of pain he never tells me about,” Jiang Cheng admits. He looks at Lan Wangji. “He might tell you about it. He should tell someone.”

Lan Wangji nods. “If Wei Ying talks, Lan Wangji will listen. Always.”

The admiration Lan Wangji has for A-Ying is disgusting. Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to see it.

“If you hurt him, I’ll break your legs,” Jiang Cheng tells Lan Wangji who, if anything, seems amused by Jiang Cheng’s threat. “I’m going to have to arrange the betrothal with your brother before my parents get involved.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t look amused anymore.

“I wonder if I can get A-Jie to wear down Zewu-Jun with her smiles?” Jiang Cheng says, mostly talking to himself.

“Get A-Jie to wear down Zewu-Jun for what?” A-Ying asks, appearing at Jiang Cheng’s side unexpectedly.

He’s dressed appropriately in formal robes, though they’re a little ruffled which is no surprise with A-Ying and Jiang Cheng hums in approval until he notices A-Ying’s hair.

“Absolutely not.”

A-Ying pouts. “But it’s pretty!”

Jiang Cheng grabs his brother by the arm and manhandles him back toward their rooms, ignoring the way Lan Wangji trails behind them. “You are not wearing that to this meeting!” He half shouts at A-Ying who continues to pout at him like a child. “I made sure to bring suitable hair ornaments for you and you’re going to wear one or I’m telling A-Jie you don’t like her selections!”

In their rooms, Jiang Cheng releases A-Ying’s arm, only to grab the damned ribbon in his brother’s hair and use that to drag him over to the table with their hair pieces neatly arranged on it. A-Ying let’s out a hiss of discomfort because Jiang Cheng definitely has some of his brother’s hair snagged in his fingers but that’s A-Ying’s fault for wearing the damned ribbon in the first place!

“Wei-Ying.” Lan Wangji is beside Jiang Cheng in a moment, grabbing Jiang Cheng’s hand that is holding his brother’s hair ribbon. “You are hurting him.”

“I’ll break his damned legs if he ever thinks of wearing a damned ribbon in his hair when we have hair ornaments for him specifically.” Jiang Cheng glares at Lan Wangji who glares right back.

Whatever relationship they were building between the two of them based on loving A-Ying burns then and there as Lan Wangji tightens his grip to try and make Jiang Cheng let go.

“He’s wearing a lotus hair piece and unless you want him to look like he’s some nobody, you’ll let go of my arm and help me, Lan Wangji.” Jiang Cheng snarls at Hanguang-Jun who stares at him for a long moment.

Lan Wangji releases Jiang Cheng’s hand.

“It’s nice to see you two bonding over me,” A-Ying says with that cheerful tone of his that Jiang Cheng loves and hates. “But I really don’t need a hair piece, A-Cheng. I’m only a disciple of the Jiang.”

Jiang Cheng releases his hold of the ribbon in A-Ying’s hair only to grab a fistful of his brothers robes and drag him nose-to-nose.

“You,” Jiang Cheng bites out, “are my brother and second heir should anything happen to me and first heir when I become Sect Leader. You will wear a hair ornament denoting your status or I’m going to actually break your legs!”

A-Ying stares at Jiang Cheng with wide eyes. He looks shocked. Like he can’t believe what Jiang Cheng has just said. But Jiang Cheng has told him this before.

A-Ying always has trouble believing he’s wanted.

“Okay, A-Cheng,” A-Ying says softly. He smiles a small smile that is brighter than his widest smile and filled with more open expression than any that Jiang Cheng has seen A-Ying give others except Lan Wangji. “Okay.”

There might be tears in A-Ying’s eyes and there might be tears in Jiang Cheng’s but Lan Wangji is standing there, staring at them both and neither Jiang will cry in front of him. Jiang Cheng cried in front of Lan Xichen but that was different. He’d rather gouge his eyes out that cry in front of Hanguang-Jun.

“You will be late for your meeting,” Lan Wangji tells them, breaking the moment between the two brothers. It’s for the best but Jiang Cheng resents him a little for breaking the silence between him and A-Ying. “I will inform brother.”

“Stay for the meeting, Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng says and Lan Wangji nods before leaving them both still standing close, Jiang Cheng’s hand gripping A-Ying’s robes.

Jiang Cheng releases his brother and smooth’s his robes automatically. He used to do that for Jin Ling all the time.

“Pick the one you want,” Jiang Cheng orders A-Ying who, for once, does as he’s told without complaint and selects a simple but stylish hair piece. “Don’t move.”

Maybe it’s because Jiang Cheng is doing A-Ying’s hair with such confidence, confidence born of years of practice with a nephew that definitely took a little bit after Jiang Cheng himself, but A-Ying is silent as Jiang Cheng works. It’s nice in a way, Jiang Cheng decides, to be doing his brother’s hair like this. In his first life, he’d never actually tried this with Wei Wuxian for a number of reasons; competitiveness, his mother, the fact that Jiang Cheng was younger and didn’t appreciate what he had until it was ripped away from him.

The way A-Ying sits for him now, with the faith and love and trust of a brother who knows what Jiang Cheng did to him in another life, Jiang Cheng considers to a precious gift. His brother is letting him do something that he has never done before and trusts him to do it right.

Jiang Cheng might actually cry.

In the entirety of Jiang Cheng’s first life, the most ornate hair piece Wei Wuxian had ever worn had been a simple silver piece that held no ties to any Sect; even when he had been part of the Jiang Sect. It’s something that Jiang Cheng adds to the mental list of things to be angry at his mother over; both the mother of his first life and the one he has now who still resents A-Ying but doesn’t say a word about it when she can sneer instead.

The hair pieces A-Ying has to choose from now are specifically for him because Jiang Cheng will not allow his brother to be treated as he had been. Still, A-Ying had chosen the simplest of the hair ornaments of the lot, still silver, but with lotus flowers to remind everyone that A-Ying is of the Jiang. Including A-Ying.

“Why am I being made to look so pretty, A-Cheng?” A-Ying asks when Jiang Cheng is done with his hair and allows him to stand. The mirror in their room is a simple hand one and Jiang Cheng holds its up for A-Ying to see himself as he ought always have looked. Like a proper member of the Jiang family. “I don’t suit this at all.”

“You suit it better than you did your horrid robes,” Jiang Cheng shoots back with a scowl at the memory of those robes. He’s going to make sure A-Ying never wears black and red ever again. His shixiong’s entire wardrobe back at Lotus Pier is now the colours of the Jiang and Jiang Cheng had taken a surprising amount of pleasure in the look on his mother’s face the day Jiang Cheng had ordered A-Ying to dress correctly as his brother.

“I looked dashing, A-Cheng!” A-Ying pouts at him and Jiang Cheng just rolls his eyes at his brother.

“No, no you did not,” he replies, grabbing A-Ying’s arm and pulling him out of their room. “Now, meeting. You can be dashing in front of the Twin Jades, you-” Jiang Cheng smirks. “You peacock.”

The sound A-Ying lets out is definitely too loud and horrified for Cloud Recess but Jiang Cheng doesn’t care because his own laughter is too loud too.

Lan Xichen at least doesn’t bother to scold either of them when Jiang Cheng and A-Ying enter the Jingshi still laughing and squawking in horror respectively, at least.

If anything, he seems amused by the sight of Jiang Cheng elbowing A-Ying to make him bow to the Twin Jades.

“Apologies Zewu-Jun, for our lateness.” Jiang Cheng doesn’t look at A-Ying or Lan Wangji. “I had thought Master Lan would be present for this?”

Lan Xichen smiles at him. “Shushu has recused himself from these proceedings due to bias,” he says, bowing to Jiang Cheng and A-Ying with Lan Wangji. “Please, sit. Tea?”

The four of them seat themselves around a small table; Lan Xichen facing Jiang Cheng and A-Ying facing Lan Wangji.

The perfect set-up.

A-Ying is staring at Lan Wangji and Lan Wangji is staring at A-Ying and it’s honestly so nauseatingly sweet that Jiang Cheng feels like his teeth are rotting in his skull at the sight.

“What has the great Zewu-Jun and my dear shidi been up to?” A-Ying finally asks, looking away from Lan Wangji to give Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen a grin that is definitely too mischievous for him. “Are you planning your marriage? Is that why your uncle isn’t here? Because he doesn’t want to negotiate with me?” A-Ying laughs. “Smart of him if so but to leave poor Lan Zhan with the duty of arguing with me! Shameful!”

Lan Xichen smiles at A-Ying. “We are indeed here to discuss a potential union,” the First Jade says and Jiang Cheng would give anything to have the look on A-Ying’s face painted by Nie Huaisang right now. “Though it is not between Jiang Wanyin and I.”

A-Ying frowns. “Shijie, then?” He looks at Lan Wangji and blanches. “You want to marry Shijie to Lan Zhan? You can’t!” He exclaims. “She’s betrothed to the peacock! Besides! Shijie is much too good for even Lan Zhan! She’s too good for anyone!” A-Ying frowns. “And you too, Lan-Zongzhu. The peacock definitely doesn’t deserve her, either.”

Jiang Cheng agrees with the part about A-Jie being too good for anyone but he also really wants to roll his eyes and fly off on Sandu because is his brother really is this stupid? Apparently.

Lan Xichen’s smile has widened whilst A-Ying railed against Lan Wangji marrying A-Jie, and widens further still when he looks at Jiang Cheng for permission.

Jiang Cheng just nods.

“Whilst I am sure Jiang-guniang would make an excellent Madame Lan, the propose union does not involve her as an active participant. Nor your brother, Wei-gongzi.”

Jiang Cheng stares at Lan Xichen. It appears that even the great Zewu-Jun can be mischievous. Jiang Cheng finds that very appealing in a friend? Acquaintance? Co-conspirator? He’s not sure how he’s supposed to categorise the First Jade.

Jiang Cheng is starting to get a headache. He hadn’t actually intended for this to be about marriage between their clans but the way A-Ying reacted to wearing a damned hair ornament and how Lan Wangji understood the importance of actions with words with A-Ying has made Jiang Cheng reconsider the meeting.

He had intended to discuss the Yin Iron with Lan Xichen and A-Ying since, no matter what, A-Ying is a genius and very good at doing the impossible. Like harnessing resentful energy.

Which might still be necessary if Jiang Cheng can’t go and kill Wen Ruohan like he really, really wants to.

“Then who?” A-Ying frowns. “I don’t know anyone else who’d we’d have to be involved in arranging their marriage.”

“Are you joking?” Jiang Cheng stares at A-Ying who looks at him, still frowning. “You cannot be his fucking ignorant. You can’t.”

“I’m not ignorant!” A-Ying exclaims. “Lan Zhan, tell him I’m not ignorant!”

“Mhm,” Lan Wangji says. “Cannot lie.”

The look of betrayal on A-Ying’s face ruins Jiang Cheng’s attempts to make this a serious conversation because Lan Wangji just made a joke!

He laughs, he can’t help. The way Lan Xichen’s smile widens and even he lets out a little laugh makes it worse because now Lan Wangji and A-Ying are looking at them. A-Ying looks like he’s just been told he can’t have any of A-Jie’s soup while Lan Wangji looks confused at his brother expressing mirth with someone who isn’t Lan Wangji.

“They’re hopeless.” Jiang Cheng manages to say between breaths, looking at Lan Xichen who shakes his head. “Fucking hopeless.”

“I believe there may be a degree of wilful blindness on both sides, perhaps.” Lan Xichen takes a fortifying sip of his tea, much more under control of his emotions than Jiang Cheng right now. “Perhaps it would help to discuss the matter further?”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head, finally getting himself under control. “Got a better idea,” he says, turning to A-Ying. “He-” Jiang Cheng points at Lan Wangji “-is so hopelessly in love with you that he will literally take on the entire cultivation world if it would keep your safe. Congratulations, you’re going to get married in four years. What do you think about a spring wedding?”

A-Ying faints.

Jiang Cheng isn’t even remotely surprised. This is his revenge on his brother and Jiang Cheng has timed this perfectly. By the time they’re seventeen, A-Ying will be happily married and Jiang Cheng will have an official reason to go to war the moment the Wen try and attack Cloud Recess for the Yin Iron.

Also, he gets to see his brother in wedding red. That’s a bonus too.

“I think you enjoyed that,” Lan Xichen says mildly as Lan Wangji ignores propriety and rushes to A-Ying.

Jiang Cheng grins at Zewu-Jun. “You have no idea.”

 * * *

A-Jie isn’t pleased to have not been included in the discussion regarding A-Ying’s pending marriage to Lan Wangji but she forgives Jiang Cheng soon enough when he happily informs her about the sight of A-Ying fainting at the prospect of marrying Hanguang-Jun. His sister is quite the romantic, after all; even if she’s also terrifying with a bow and talismans.

The fact that Jiang Cheng lets A-Jie take the reins regarding the negotiations for A-Ying’s wedding also helps gain him forgiveness from his jiejie. Lan Qiren, for reasons known only to Lan Xichen, doesn’t involve himself in the negotiations at all. Considering what Jiang Cheng knew of Lan Qiren in his first life and how he seemed to hate Wei Wuxian for reasons that had to do with his parents first-and-foremost, Jiang Cheng is glad to not have to deal with the old master.

He really wouldn’t be able to hold his temper this time around if he had to listen to Lan Qiren declare A-Ying to be foolish or arrogant or, well, anything really. Not after Jiang Cheng spent years hating his brother and believing the lies of others. Lan Qiren bases his opinion of A-Ying on what he sees on the surface; he doesn’t know Jiang Cheng’s brother and until Master Lan is willing to look, Jiang Cheng wants him as far from his brother as he can reasonably get him.

Somehow, Jiang Cheng has a feeling Lan Xichen might be trying to do exactly that with his taking the role of negotiating Lan Wangji’s marriage to A-Ying.

It makes Jiang Cheng think better of the Lan Xichen of this second life than he did of his first. This Lan Xichen isn’t a legend yet and hasn’t been misled for years by a snake who orchestrated the deaths of Jiang Cheng’s siblings. This Lan Xichen is young and unsure but willing to be better and that- that is something Jiang Cheng strongly relates to.

Jiang Fengmian arrives at Cloud Recess a week after Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen informed Lan Wangji and A-Ying of their betrothal, with a bearing that Jiang Cheng hasn’t seen his father show except on That Night. It makes it look like his father cannot reconcile what he hopes with reality.

Jiang Cheng, for the first time, wonders if his father loved A-Ying as much as he always appeared to or if his fondness was borne more of guilt and duty. It’s about as pleasant to consider as thinking about his mother’s actions and the reasons behind them.

A-Jie is far firmer about A-Ying marrying for love than she is for herself—even if she may love the peacock, he doesn’t appreciate her as she is now—and it makes Jiang Fengmian more reluctant to oppose the union. The fact that Jiang Cheng is firmly on his sister and brother’s side also makes their father reluctant.

Seeing A-Ying smiling at Lan Wangji in that way he only smiles for Lan Wangji makes Jiang Fengmian give up trying to oppose the marriage in any way.

His one argument of their relatively young age for a betrothal had been so effectively shot down by A-Jie that Jiang Cheng truly had wished to applaud his sister; his sister who has been betrothed to Jin Zixuan since they were born.

Jiang Cheng does at least make a sound argument for A-Ying and Lan Wangji not being separate from the Jiang Sect due to the marriage; since they’re both men, they have duties and responsibilities that they wouldn’t have if either were a woman. It’s perhaps a little offensive to A-Jie, the way she will be handed off to the Jin whilst Jiang Cheng refuses to do the same with A-Ying, but the way A-Jie agrees with Jiang Cheng shows how little she cares for her fate compared to her brothers’.

Jiang Cheng has a solution to that.

It may or may not involve threatening Jin Zixuan while thirty feet in the air on Sandu.

“A-Cheng! A-Cheng!” A-Ying all but shouts down Jiang Cheng’s ear as he bounds up and wraps his arms around Jiang Cheng. “A-Cheng! I’m getting married to Lan Zhan!”

The thing about A-Ying is that he really is so shameless sometimes, disregarding propriety and good manners. But that just makes it all the more hilarious when four different Lan Sect disciples trip over their robes at A-Ying’s declaration. The fact that Lan Wangji himself walks up to where A-Ying is clinging to Jiang Cheng like a particularly determined lunatic and smiles seems to make the other disciples in the area look positively shocked.

It’s a beautiful moment of chaos instigated by A-Ying’s hopeless adoration and love for Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng is both pleased to witness it and caught up in the middle of it as he stumbles back a step and trips himself.

Lan Wangji, proving that Hanguang-Jun is and always will be an asshole to Jiang Cheng, plucks A-Ying off of him but doesn’t actually prevent Jiang Cheng from toppling over onto his ass.

“You’re perfect for each other,” Jiang Cheng huffs, standing and straightening his robes. The Lan white robes that the Jiang siblings have been wearing during their stay have become more familiar to Jiang Cheng over time, but he still deeply misses the blues and purples of his own Sect robes.

“Thank you.” Lan Wangji nods at Jiang Cheng like he hasn’t just let Jiang Cheng fall over in full view of a dozen Lan disciples.

“Father and Zewu-Jun are arranging regular visits and trips for you both over the next four years,” Jiang Cheng tells them, ignoring the urge to stick his tongue out at Lan Wangji; it’d be a wasted effort with the Second Jade. “You’re going to have chaperones and everything. If you even think of acting shameless- more shameless ­then I will break your legs. Both of you.”

The way A-Ying smiles at Jiang Cheng means his brother is completely disregarding Jiang Cheng’s threat. Lan Wangji just hums in acknowledgement of his words but is also, clearly, ignoring Jiang Cheng’s threat.

They’re both awful.

“You will not be sleeping in the same rooms or go anywhere alone,” Jiang Cheng continues. “And that’s not my decree; that is A-Jie’s.”

A-Ying freezes.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng says, nodding. “She’s already told Lan Xichen that if you break that rule at Lotus Pier she won’t give you her soup for a year.”

The look on A-Ying’s face is absolute desolation and Jiang Cheng can’t help but laugh at it even as he completely understands A-Ying’s feelings on this. He lived a lifetime without A-Jie’s soup; he never wants to experience that ever again.

A-Jie’s soup is made with her love and it is precious beyond words.

“Will I even be allowed to kiss Lan Zhan?” A-Ying whispers, looking at Jiang Cheng with wide eyes. “I can’t survive if I can’t kiss him A-Cheng. He’s too perfect! I can’t!”

“Wei Ying is perfect, also,” Lan Wangji informs A-Ying like he hasn’t said exactly that a million times already.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “I am not going to beg A-Jie for you to be allowed to kiss your betrothed, A-Ying.”

A-Ying stares at him.

“I hate you so much right now,” Jiang Cheng mutters, turning in the direction of the room set aside for negotiations.

“I love you too A-Cheng! You’re the best brother!” A-Ying calls after him and it’s sickening how Lan Wangji doesn’t even bother telling him that shouting is forbidden in Cloud Recess.

Absolutely sickening.

[love-little-lotte]

15 Musical Theatre Duets That Make Me Believe In Love Again

Hi! This is a follow-up on my other list: 15 Musical Theatre Female Solos That Make Me Feel Things. This time, I’m going to talk about 15 musical theatre duets that make me believe in love again (obviously, as the title suggests). Love songs are beautiful and special, and I always love listening to them. You don’t even have to be in a relationship to really enjoy them. You just have to listen and feel the music and lyrics. 

Musical theatre love songs are a whole different story. I find them more meaningful because they’re part of a story. They help the story progress, as well as provide insight to the characters’ personality. And probably most importantly, these songs help make the audience understand the love these characters feel for each other. 

The following songs are my favorite romantic duets in musical theatre. Romantic duets are love songs sung by two people — usually, it’s sung when they profess their love for each other. I love them to bits, and I love how they made me feel. They’re also fun to sing along to! These songs are, in my opinion, incredibly romantic. They transcend me to a different place, and yes, they do make me believe in love again. Also, let me just remind you, that this is my personal list, so if you don’t agree, well then, you can always make a list of your own. 

(Disclaimer: I arranged these songs randomly to avoid favoritism, so this is not exactly a “ranking” list.)

1. Sun and Moon - Miss Saigon 

I was initially confused which song I would choose from Miss Saigon — this one or “The Last Night of the World.” I eventually chose this one because I liked the lyrics more. They’re so simple, but you can definitely feel the love between Kim and Chris with each word. 

This song is sung early on the show, where everything was going perfectly for the both of them. After spending the night, Kim and Chris fell in love unexpectedly while there is an ongoing war. He’s a soldier; she’s a prostitute. They come from a different world, but they found each other. It’s the perfect love song for them. 

Most memorable lyrics: How in the light of one night / Did we come so far?

2. Tonight - West Side Story

Just like Kim and Chris from Miss Saigon, Tony and Maria from West Side Story come from a different world. He’s a Jet; she’s a, well... Shark by relation? Anyway, this song is also an absolute favorite of mine. The music, the lyrics... are oh-so gorgeous. Even though they’ve only met one time prior to this song, they fell in love at first sight — and they fell hard. Both Tony and Maria were ready to risk their relationship with family and friends to be with each other.  

But before the story went into chaos, this song perfectly described the love they feel for each other. It’s a delightful song, and I love it to bits. I look forward to the day I sing this to a special someone who’s ready to defy everyone just to be with me!

Most memorable lyrics:  But here you are / And what was just a world is a star / Tonight

3. Ten Minutes Ago - Rodger and Hammerstein’s Cinderella

Ever wondered what it feels like to fall in love at first sight? Well, Ella and Prince Topher can tell you — or rather, sing it for you. This song is just as beautiful as the costumes of this Rodger and Hammerstein’s Cinderella production. Seriously, this is unrelated, but you really need to check out the costumes for this show. It’s to die for!

Anyway, this song is the first duet of Ella and Prince Topher. The music is soaring; the lyrics are romantic; and the choreography is memorable. This song is absolutely marvelous and perfectly encapsulates the feeling of falling in love at first sight (one of my favorite musical theatre tropes). Also, you need to check out the Tony Awards performance of this song! 

Most memorable lyrics: In the arms of my love I’m flying / Over mountain and meadow and glen

4. Take Me As I Am - Jekyll & Hyde

Unlike most of the songs in this list, I haven’t delved into this musical as much as I want to. Nevertheless, I fell in love with this gorgeous song. I have a weakness for sopranos, so of course, this song caught my attention. Christiane Noll, who played Emma in the OBC recording, sounded so, so heavenly. 

Through this song, I got to know Emma and Jekyll’s love for each other. They’re professing their love for each other, promising that they would be on each other’s side no matter what happens. It’s a song that teaches us acceptance and love really go together. Truly one of my favorite romantic song ever. 

Most memorable lyrics: And when despair / Tears me in two / Who can I turn to but you?

5. I’ll Cover You - Rent

This particular song is more carefree and upbeat compared to most of the songs in this list. But that doesn’t make it any less romantic. This song sung by my favorite couple in Rent is the absolute best. When all the other couples are fighting, Angel and Collins just continued loving each other and enjoying the little time they have. They are so sweet, and I totally love their relationship. And this song is a huge testament why. 

It’s a song that tells the audience that Angel and Collins just love being together and that they truly love one another. They were together through thick and thin, through Angel’s sickness until the very end. They weren’t kidding when they sang “I’ll be there and I’ll cover you.” And yes, the reprise version of this song is the definition of pain and sadness. 

Most memorable lyrics: But sweet kisses I’ve got to spare / I’ll be there and I’ll cover you

6. As Long As You’re Mine - Wicked

Whenever I listen to this song, I always describe it as “sensual and intimate.” This song may not be promiscuous or anything like that, but it’s so passionate and sexy in an innocent way. It’s a beautiful love song, and when performed right, truly make me fall in love. The lyrics are perfect for what Elphaba and Fiyero are going through, and the music is beyond catchy.

When they do release the movie version of Wicked — which is probably never at this point — I hope they cast actors who have amazing, off the roof chemistry. This song is one of my favorites, and I would love to see it done well on the big screen. Elphaba’s cheeky last line “For the first time, I feel... wicked” is probably my favorite line in the show. 

Most memorable lyrics: Borrow the moonlight / Until it is through / And know I’ll be here / Holding you / As long as you’re mine

7. Only Us - Dear Evan Hansen

One of the purest romantic songs ever. Though Evan may not be your ideal perfect guy, you can’t deny that this song is plain sweet. This duet between Evan and Zoe is cute and relatable — anyone who fell in love before can identify with the lyrics. And even though you’re not a fan of musical theatre, I’m pretty sure you’re still going to like this fan favorite.

This song is one of my favorite song in “new” musicals. It’s sung by teenagers in the show, but the lyrics and music are perfect to attract younger audiences. It’s a good song to sing along to, and probably a good dedication song for your significant other.

Most memorable lyrics: You and me / That’s all that we need it to be / And the rest of the world falls away

8. Seven Wonders - Catch Me If You Can

The first time I listened to the musical, I was in high school. I didn’t know it was based on a movie. I didn’t know who Frank Abagnale even is! The reason why I even cared about this musical is because of Aaron Tveit, which made me listen to the cast recording, then watch the movie (which is really good). I fell in love with this song the first moment I listened to it. It’s catchy and pure and beautiful. 

The duet is sung by Frank and Brenda in the musical. The lyrics (and Aaron Tveit) are probably the highlights of the song for me. It’s hilarious and, at the same time, really sweet. Imagine having a guy you like say that you couldn’t compare to all the beautiful places in the world because you’re perfect! And then imagine Aaron Tveit singing that to you. But seriously speaking, this song is goshdarn cute and romantic. 

Most memorable lyrics: I’ve been a lot of places / Yes, I’ve traveled near and far / But now I know that home is where you are

9. Happiness - Passion

This is the first song of the musical, and from there, I’m already in love. Giorgio and Clara’s song is simply enchanting. It tells the story of two people just being happy in each other’s arms. We don’t know who they are — as the musical only started — but we just know that they’re completely in love with each other, satisfied and contented.

Indeed, this is one of my favorite love songs ever. It’s warm, delightful, and deeply sensual. Giorgio and Clara’s love story may not be perfect (as we realize later on the show), but this song is perfect for their relationship in the beginning. 

Most memorable lyrics: Some say happiness / Comes and goes / Then this happiness / Is a kind of happiness / No one really knows

10. Say It Somehow - The Light in the Piazza

This musical has one of the best scores ever. It’s astonishingly pleasant to the ears. This particular song, on the other hand, is one of the best love songs I’ve ever heard. In this song, this is when Fabrizio (spoiler alert?) professes his love and proposes to Clara (a different one from the previously mentioned musical). 

Who does not want a declaration of love with a song like this? It’s everyone’s dream — or rather, my dream. It’s a gorgeous song with flawless music and lyrics. And I know you’re getting tired of hearing it but yes, this is one of my favorite songs.

Most memorable lyrics: Say it somehow / Anyway you can / You know me / You are good

11. Something to Believe In - Newsies

The first few notes of this song is already set to make me fall in love, and it succeeds. This love song is amazing and fun to sing along to. It’s catchy (especially the chorus) and above all, romantic. Jack and Katherine are not only friends, but they also know how to work together and that’s important in any relationship. 

Needless to say, this song is the perfect for the both of them. Jack and Katherine truly believed in each other. They’re one of my favorite couples in musicals, so I’m pretty happy that they got a really good song. It’s also one of those songs that you can play for your friends who don’t often listen to musicals. 

Most memorable lyrics: And if I’m gone tomorrow / What was ours still will be / I have something to believe in / Now that I know you believed in me

12. One Second and a Million Miles - The Bridges of Madison County

Honestly, I’m not sure if this is an “actual” love song, but what the hell, I love this song and I’m making the list so I’m going to include it. The entire musical is heartbreaking, but oh-so romantic and beautiful. The songs are exquisite and gorgeous, especially this big song in the second act wherein Robert tells Francesca to leave everything and run away with him. 

It’s a song of reassurance, that whatever the risks they’re going to take, it’s enough because they love one another and they’re going to be there for each other. It’s an incredible song and no matter how many times I listen to the cast recording, Kelli O’Hara and Steven Pasquale’s vocals give me chills every time. 

Most memorable lyrics: And you and I are just one second / Spinning by in just one second / You and I have just one second / And a million miles to go

13. All I Ask of You - The Phantom of the Opera

My. Favorite. Duet. Of. All. Time. I mean, I think most of my followers here are from the “Phandom” so you just know that I have to include a song from this musical. This song is the absolute best, which of course, truly made me believe in love again. It’s beautiful. Raoul and Christine’s relationship is the best, as the both of them love each other very much.

In this song, Raoul promises Christine to be there for her all the time no matter what. He promises his love for her and more. It’s a wonderful and romantic song that has been covered endless times by popular artists outside musical theatre (my favorite would’ve been Josh Groban and Kelly Clarkson’s version). And I swear, if I ever get married in the future, this will be the song that I would play on my first dance with my husband.

Most memorable lyrics: Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime / Say the word and I will follow you / Share each day with me, each night, each morning / Say you love me / You know I do

14. All I’ve Ever Known - Hadestown 

Anaïs Mitchell originally wanted this to be a solo for Eurydice, but I thank the gods everyday that she turned it into a duet. It’s my favorite song in the musical, and it’s absolutely wonderful. For a really long time, Eurydice was on her own and very independent. She didn’t trust anyone. But now, she was ready to open up and love Orpheus with all her heart. 

Furthermore, the choreography in this song is absolutely amazing. It showed the intimacy of Eurydice and Orpheus’ relationship through their dance. It went perfectly well along with the song as well! I love this song very much, and it’s on repeat. 

Most memorable lyrics: All I know is you’re someone I have always known / And I don’t even know you / Now I wanna hold you, hold you close / I don’t wanna ever have to let you go

15. I Have Dreamed - The King and I

Tuptim and Lun Tha are only supporting characters in their musical, but their songs are my absolute favorites. This and “We Kiss in a Shadow” are two of my favorite songs in the musical. Their songs, especially this one in particular, left a long-lasting impression to me. Even though I’m not in love, this song makes me feel like I am. 

My first version of this song is Lea Salonga and Peabo Bryon’s version (which you should really check out if you haven’t!) Their rendition of this song is super good — it’s like you’ve died and gone to heaven. The lyrics are amazing and perfectly written. To top it all of, this song is very romantic, and I love it so much. 

Most memorable lyrics: In these dreams, I’ve loved you so / That by now I think, I know / What it’s like to be loved by you / I will love being loved by you

_________________________

And that brings us to the end of this list. These 15 songs truly made me believe in love again, and I suggest you give them a listen! Who knows, maybe you’d like them as well. 

[farmerlan]

Farmer Lan’s Rewatch Guide to The Untamed - Episode 6

Vanity, thy name is Lan Wangji

SPOILERS AHEAD YOU KNOW IT

HAHAHA I feel like this episode is going to be really trying for me because there are so many scenes that TECHNICALLY happen in the novel, but not in this way. There’s a lot of crafty rewriting going on here that I’m going to try my best to reconcile with what’s going on in the novel. WARNING IT GETS REALLY LONG.

[We see the trio (Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng) enjoying some Tian Zi Xiao, a famous liquor produced within the region. Lan Wangji walks in at that moment and sees the debauchery going on. He demands they receive punishment but Wei Wuxian sets a talisman upon Lan Wangji to forcibly control him. Wei Wuxian then orders him to drink and we find out that he’s a super-lightweight. Wei Wuxian takes this chance to mess around with the usually stoic Lan Wangji. We learn that the Gusu Lan’s sect headband is sacred - no one can touch the headband except parents and significant others.

Wei Wuxian counters that no one on earth is going to marry into the Lan sect because they’re so stuffy HA. We learn a little about their backgrounds - Lan Wangji claims he does not have a mother, Wei Wuxian shares that he was orphaned at 4, and his only memory of his family is of them traveling with a donkey, laughing and having a good time.]

Differences from the novel:

Lan Wangji doesn’t interrupt the party - he interrupts the morning after. After a night of drunken shenanigans, Wei Wuxian & pals are all passed out in his room when Lan Wangji strides in the next morning. Next thing Wei Wuxian knows, he is being dragged by the collar into the ancestral hall for punishment. Lan Wangji doesn’t fall prey to any talisman tricks because...he’s too good for that obvi.

In the novel, we first learn that Lan Wangji is a one-shot wonder in Chapter 30, post-resurrection timeline, as part of the Yi City arc as they chase down the other body parts of the Demonic Left Arm’s corpse. He does not drink or become inebriated in Wei Wuxian’s first life. 

The actual backgrounds of both characters are correctly portrayed but this heart-to-heart conversation never happens at any point in the novel. In fact, with Lan Wangji’s general emotional constipation, many believed they were downright hostile to each other at times and I think even Wei Wuxian was unsure if Lan Wangji really returned his friendship prior to his death. 

We learn about Lan Wangji’s mother in more detail in one of the later episodes so I’ll talk about it then, but Wei Wuxian’s memory of his family was brought up in Chapter 66 of the novel. Specifically, he has a flashback as he is riding on Little Apple with Lan Wangji beside him, and then asks Lan Wangji to pick up the reins in order to re-enact the scene of his mother riding on a donkey led by his father from his memory. He then laments, “Guess we’re only missing a little one to complete the picture”. Obviously, Lan Wangji has no clue what he’s up to but he obliges and picks up the reins anyway.

Re: the headband, in the novel, it’s explained at the end of the Yi City arc, so there are no scenes with Lan Wangji’s ribbon in the Gusu Lan arc. Lan Wangji doesn’t actually explain in the drama what the headband signifies, besides that it is important (I forget whether the show explains this later on). But in the novel, we learn from Lan Sizhui in Chapter 45 that the headband is meant to signify self-restraint, and the only time when you’re allowed to be *ahem* uninhibited is in front of your significant other. Unfortunately, it’s a bit too late for that, especially since he explains this the day after the juniors witnessed a rather...shocking scene in the tavern (replaced by a more tame scene in Episode 40...so I’ll talk about that then because this is getting way too long.)

I’m just going to drop it right here that there is a flashback scene in the novel that is not in the drama. It’s right after Wei Wuxian learns about the meaning where he recounts that the first time he had touched Lan Wangji’s ribbon. In their youth, the Wen sect hosted a gathering/festival (idk what you want to call these...basically sects host get-togethers for other sects and these often last several days and can consist of many events, from banquets to hunts etc). It was during an archery competition event. Wei Wuxian initially tells Lan Wangji that his ribbon is crooked, causing Lan Wangji to feel for his headband to check, only to realize Wei Wuxian was teasing him. The next time, however, Wei Wuxian warns him that it really is coming loose but Lan Wangji ignores him as he figures Wei Wuxian is just being his grand ol’ joker self again. So Wei Wuxian reaches for it as he offers to fix it for Lan Wangji... and ends up accidentally ripping it off entirely. Lan Wangji is so upset he actually withdraws from the competition early (he still ends up placing fourth because he’s ~gifted~). Back to the present, Wei Wuxian reflects that it was a testament to Lan Wangji’s character and restraint that he didn’t immediately end Wei Wuxian’s life right there and then HA.

[The next day (let me stop here and just say the teaware in this show is to die for), we cut to Lan Qiren discussing similar happenings at the Nie sect, from where Lan Qiren has just returned. Lan Xichen deduces the water demon and snatched cultivator souls are connected.

We learn more about Wei Wuxian’s mom (Cang Se San Ren...CSSR because I can’t with how long the name is) but then our protagonists’ shenanigans are reported to Lan Qiren. Lan Qiren mets out punishment to the four of them, poor Lan Wangji included, and also accidentally reveals that he knew Wei Wuxian’s mom.

Cut to the Jiang sibs running into Lan Xichen and he tells them it’s going to take weeks to heal, and then points him to the cold springs. Wei Wuxian wants to learn more about CSSR - LOL Lan Xichen alludes to CSSR shaving Lan Qiren’s beard while she was here.

We get a scene with Wen Qing/Wen Ruohan - she seems to have discovered the Yin iron is in the water due to Wen Ning’s sudden change in appearance during the water demon hunt.]

Differences from the novel:

In the novel, Lan Qiren is called away to attend a conference the day after the pornography incident (so Wei Wuxian was NOT punished for that trick ha) and has no involvement in any of the events until the fight with Jin Zixuan.

The punishment scene was portrayed differently. Backstory is - the night before, Lan Wangji caught Wei Wuxian sneaking in alcohol again (he drew the short straw and had to buy it for his gang of do-no-gooders for the party). They fight again, but this time Wei Wuxian clings to Lan Wangji and tackles him off the border wall and onto the ground outside - which means Lan Wangji has now technically also broken the sect rules of being outside and re-entering past curfew. When Lan Wangji drags Wei Wuxian to the punishment hall the next morning, Wei Wuxian tries to pull a ‘gotcha’. He figured Lan Wangji would let him off since technically they both broke the rules and before you punish someone, you should apply the same rules to yourself. Cue Lan Wangji kneeling beside him and giving himself 50 more lashes than he gave to Wei Wuxian. Talk about holding yourself accountable.

There’s not really a lot of discussion of Lan Qiren and CSSR’s relationship in the novel - the author does state in an interview that CSSR AND Wei Wuxian both messed with Lan Qiren’s beloved facial hair, so like mother like son, but it wasn’t canon in the novel.

Jiang Cheng straight up carries Wei Wuxian out of the punishment hall on his back in the novel. Wei Wuxian’s being all finicky and “I didn’t ask you to carry me anyway” and Jiang Cheng replies, “Lan Wangji took 50 more lashings than you and walked out of there by himself! If I didn’t carry you out, god knows how long you would have laid there rolling around in the hall. I don’t think I could bear the shame! Also, stop playing victim then - get off my back and walk.” And Wei Wuxian immediately changes his tune and is all “But I caaaaaaan’t I’m so injured” LMAO.

Yes, Lan Xichen is still the biggest WangXian shipper and is indeed the person who points Wei Wuxian to the cold springs in the novel.

[Cold springs scene with Lan Wangji (they are both semi-naked in all versions besides this, also, who takes a dip FULLY CLOTHED, hello censorship) and Wei Wuxian declares his offer of friendship. Lan Wangji refuses, what else is new.

They both get sucked into a cave that is protected by ~magical guqin~ which forbids non-sect members from getting closer - oh, and there are rabbits wearing the Lan headband. Lan Wangji ties their wrists together with his sect ribbon and they are able to head up to the guqin together.

Lan Wangji plays the guqin to perform Inquiry (have I mentioned I cry tears of laughter whenever I see the guqin scenes I’m sorry bb it’s just really hilariously wrong…) Lan Yi shows up, we also see that everyone outside is looking for the two of them. Cue weird Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan scene as she slips and he catches her. The Jin Zixuan here is downright swoonworthy compared to the novel, I tell you.]

Differences from the novel:

The cold springs scene more or less follows the novel - the dialogue is somewhat different and there’s less physical contact (Lan Wangji in the novel straight up puts his hand on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder to stop him from moving around and splashing water everywhere). 

There is NO CAVE SCENE in the novel. The cold springs scene in the novel ends with Wei Wuxian’s offer of friendship being rejected, and he goes “You’re not giving me face at all, aren’t you afraid I’m going to take all your clothes when I leave if you keep rejecting me like this?” and Lan Wangji of course tells him to gtfo. So, no, we don’t get the symbolic ~tying together of their wrists~ scene in the novel and we do not meet Lan Yi in the novel.

There’s no Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan scene in the novel - I assume it was done for some more relationship building between the two characters in the drama since it would be kind of weird for the show to just throw them together into a romance and arranged marriage without building up to it.

There’s a whole other origin story to the rabbits running around Gusu Lan which I’ll cover in Episode 7.

[We learn that Lan Yi is a boss ass bitch who created the Chord Assassination technique and also appears to have a fondness for rabbits. Turns out she is NOT dead - just guarding the Yin metal until she dies. Cue origins of the Yin metal - it was owned by Xue Chonghai and he was the original demonic cultivator, using people as sacrifice and controlling the Tortoise of Slaughter. He was brought down by the sects and Yiling became known as the Yiling Burial Mounds. The Yin metal was then shattered to be suppressed by the five sects, and kept a secret.

Lan Yi, in an attempt to revitalize the Lan sect, went after the Yin metal despite the warnings of her bff Bao Shan San Ren (Wei Wuxian’s grandmaster). The Yin metal cannot be resealed, so Lan Yi was forced to seal herself in with it.]

Differences from the novel:

Nope, none of this happened. Xue Chonghai is not a character in the novel at all. There’s no Yin metal, but Wei Wuxian DID come up with the Yin Hu Fu (the Yin Tiger Seal) as a weapon. We learn more about its backstory in Chapter 30, however, the novel only states that it was crafted by Wei Wuxian from a mysterious piece of metal he harvested from a monster. The power of the seal therefore really comes from the knowledge that Wei Wuxian possessed to make it - many after him had tried and failed to replicate his success following his death. In the novel, Wei Wuxian is the originator of demonic cultivation (or at least the first person to master it to such a fearsome degree), and he never controlled or sacrificed live people - only corpses.

In the novel, Lan Yi is indeed the only female cultivator to have led the Lan sect, and the creator of the Chord Assassination technique. This was covered as part of the introduction to the technique in Chapter 55 before Lan Wangji uses it on the Tortoise of Slaughter. We learn that due to the cruel nature of it (used to eliminate or suppress many of her enemies), not many people speak fondly of her but there’s no denying the power of the technique. However, that’s all we get - there’s no back story with BSSR or anything of that sort.

Overall Thoughts:

I have none because this post is already long enough hahahaha

[crystalessenceswrites]

You’re Enchanting--Chapter Two

Summary:  Delphine always told Elazar she would do anything to help him if he was ever in trouble, even knowing his knack for finding it. She didn’t expect to be helping him save the world after someone blows up the Conclave and tears a hole in the sky. Nor did Delphine expect to be falling for anyone, let alone a troubled, former templar, while she’s watching her best friend shape the future of their world with a green glowing hand.

Pairings: Cullen/Trevelyan & Dorian/Lavellan

Warnings: none I think? Includes discussion of mage/templar opinions of the other but nothing extensive 

Can also be found on AO3

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three]

Chapter Two- Focus

“So, you don’t have a clue as to how you got the mark on your hand, except that it happened during the explosion, which also opened the Breach that’s allowing demon rifts to open and terrorize the good people of Thedas. And knowing this, you joined the Inquisition because the mark closes rifts and they want to seal the Breach in the sky and save the world.” Delphine sat on the edge of Elazar’s cot, rubbing her temples. “Do I have that all correct?”

“Pretty much,” Elazar shot her a half-assed grin. She knew he was getting too much enjoyment out of watching her try to wrap her mind around the events of the last week.

“And people are believing that a Dalish elf is the Herald of Andraste?”

Elazar’s fingers lightly traced over the blue ink below his eye. “That has surprised me just as much as you… but it’s better than people calling me some sort of darkspawn.”

“I can agree with that,” Delphine sighed. If becoming a religious icon protected Elazar from such accusations, she would let it stand for now. “Does it hurt? The mark, I mean.”

“Not so much anymore. Right after the explosion, when the Breach was still growing, the mark was spreading. Solas and the apothecary here, Addan, managed to keep me alive long enough to seal it… and once we did, the mark stopped consuming my arm. We think…”

Delphine could spot his fake optimism a mile away, but he wasn’t just trying to convince her that the mark was no longer a danger but himself as well. She hated that he felt the need to do so around her. They hadn’t been apart for that long, had they?

“Well, I guess that’s good to hear. There’s still the fact that it’s there at all, but that’s a problem that needs a solution later on. You will let me know if it starts bothering you again, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course, Del. You’re the last person I could hide it from anyways,” Elazar chuckled.

“That’s true. I can read you like a book.” She grinned back.

Maybe it hadn’t been that long after all.

“Which reminds me! I lent you a copy of Early Orlesian History before I left the Circle. Please tell me you left that in the tower and that it didn’t go up in flames in the explosion.”

The color draining from her elvish friend’s face didn’t give Delphine much hope.

“Ha- I was hoping you forgot about that.”

Delphine pressed her palms over her eyes, all hope of possibly appeasing her uncle next time she saw him was gone. That is if she ever saw him again…

“My uncle lent me that copy! I’ll never hear the end of it from him, ever!” The man could hold a grudge, which stands as quite a testament to character considering her family and their reputation.

“I’ll apologize to your bookworm uncle myself if I must. And I’ll see if I can find another copy to replace it with.” This was not the first time one of his books had been destroyed by Elazar’s mishaps, and apology and a replacement might not cut it this time around.

“Elazar, between worrying me and destroying my uncle’s prized library, you will be the death of me.”

.

In short order, Delphine found herself in the presence of the Inquisition leadership. Elazar, true to his charismatic nature, cheerily introduced her to Leliana, the Left Hand of the Divine, who eyed her with unabashed curiosity. Delphine was used to being ogled like an exotic pet but considering it was the Divine’s spymaster looking at her with such intensity gave slight cause for concern. Next, she was properly reintroduced to Cassandra, the Right Hand of the Divine. Despite knowing the woman was formerly a Seeker, Delphine was not nearly put off in her presence. Maybe it was the fact that her eyes weren’t nearly as cold and sharp as the other Seekers she’d crossed paths with over the years.

Josephine greeted Delphine with a practiced gleaming smile and a myriad of questions, the first of which was on her relationship to the Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick. She shouldn’t have expected any less from the ambassador.

“He would be my father.”

Delphine wondered if she should be more concerned about the ambassador considering the glee that washed over Josephine’s face at the answer.

“Lady Trevelyan, you and our ambassador are soon going to become fast friends.” Leliana sounded thoroughly amused at the development.

Josephine quickly voiced her agreement before Delphine had a chance to correct the Spymaster. Delphine had not been considered a lady since she was a child, and honestly, she held little desire to return to that position. The only title she savored was the one she had earned through dedication to her studies and craft.

Lastly, Elazar reintroduced Delphine to the Commander, who stood near the back of the room, his hands resting crossed over the hilt of his sword. The stance was as close to relaxed as any templar could allow themselves while still being able to perform their duties. Delphine did her best to keep her skepticism from showing as he greeted her in return. She also tried to ignore the way he looked her over in a not so subtle manner.

“I have asked Delphine to stay and help… after all, she is the smarter of the two of us. She may prove to be more helpful to the Inquisition than I.”

Delphine had never been fond of how Elazar put himself below her. He was just as talented in magic as she was, if not more so.

“That’s not true. We’re no longer in the Circle so I will not have this argument with you again,” she scolded. “And you are the one with the glowing hand in all this, not me.”

Cassandra looked rather amused but did not interject, deferring to Leliana. “I am sure we all agree that any assistance Lady Trevelyan can offer would be most appreciated, Herald. She is most welcome here.”

Cullen and Josephine nodded, the ambassador looking more pleased with the development than the commander.

“With the settled, we should discuss the names that Mother Giselle supplied us with. I believe having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea.”

Elazar had briefly explained why he had been sent to the Crossroads following the developments at the Temple. Delphine was skeptical that any in the Chantry would even dare to gather in public right now.

“You can’t be serious.” Cullen balked, and Delphine had half a heart to agree with him.

“Mother Giselle isn’t wrong: at the moment, the Chantry’s only strength is that they are united in opinion.”

“And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?” Leliana shot back.

“Let’s ask him.”

Elazar shrugged, “what can they do? It’s just talk.”

Had he skipped all of his history lessons while they were apprentices?

“Don’t underestimate the power of their words. An angry mob will do you in just as quickly as a blade.”

Delphine nodded in agreement, Leliana had more than a fair point. “Never doubt the power of public opinion.”

“I will go with him to Val Royeaux. Mother Giselle said she could provide us names? Use them.”

Cassandra was a woman of action, and deserved credit for that, even if the idea did seem rather fruitless. All the Chantry would do for such a meeting would be a charade. Leliana seemed to be of the same opinion.

“But why? This is nothing but a-”

“What choice do we have, Leliana? Right now we can’t approach anyone for help with the Breach. Use what influence we have to call the clerics together. Once they are ready we will see this through.”

Begrudgingly the rest agreed, Leliana and Josephine would begin sending out letters and agents to bring together those they could in Val Royeaux in a few weeks’ time. Delphine offered Josephine any help she needed. She had not seen this list of names yet but it was entirely possible she knew of or was related to one of two of the clerics suggested to be amenable. It was the most she could do, for now.

“In the meanwhile, I plan to return to the Crossroads. There is still much to do,” Elazar declared. Always one to make such decisions on his own. At least that much had not changed.

.

The pair spent the rest of the day settling into Haven and planning what they could. Due to the already apparent lack of housing it was decided Delphine would bunk with Elazar. Another cot appeared rather quickly and was situated across the cabin from Elazar’s. It was more privacy than she had expected upon her arrival in the small village. Someone else came by not long after with fresh clothes more suited to the mountain winter. Delphine heartily thanked the elvish woman who looked at Elazar with wide eyes.

After bathing, something Delphine needed even more than fresh clothes, Elazar sat with her on her new bed and combed out her long sandy locks. Her elvish friend had been enamored with her hair since they had met. There had been plenty of nights over the years where he would sit behind her while she studied, dutifully combing and braiding. Delphine had tried unsuccessfully, on many occasions, to convince Elazar to grow his own hair out. She thought he would look rather charming with long dark hair. He always shot the idea down, content with his current messy floof.

“It makes me appear more the dashing rogue, don’t you think?”

Delphine would always roll her eyes, “if that’s what you believe, El.”

Maybe he would be some dashing heartbreaker had he been left to live his life outside the Circle tower, as his people intended.

Elazar’s hands lingered across her shoulders as he finished styling her hair. “I missed this- I miss you, Del.” He wrapped his scrawny arms around her shoulders, leaning across her back. “I’m glad you came… I don’t know if I could do this, whatever this is, without you.”

She couldn’t remember the last time he had hugged her. They hadn’t been on speaking terms last time they saw each other face to face. It had been too long.

“Well someone has to keep you out of trouble, El.” She lay one hand over his, rubbing soothing circles across his knuckles. “So, you won’t be getting rid of me so easily again.”

“Thank you, Del.”

.

Delphine felt much more prepared to face the day as she readied herself the following morning. Requisitions had supplied her with suitable clothing that actually fit, unlike the hastily bought traveling gear Del had purchased for herself upon her arrival in Ferelden. It was much easier to tromp around Haven in fur-lined boots that weren’t threatening to fall off her feet. She admittedly was also more comfortable going about her business in a skirt than the leather trousers she’d been wearing.

“You almost look like a proper Ferelden lady.” Elazar had snickered as she finished dressing.

She rolled her eyes in response. A brown lambswool sweater, cream skirt, and sturdy boots just made her appear ready for the weather, not Ferelden. Perish the thought she would ever be anything besides a Marcher.

After breakfast they parted ways, El wanted to discuss plans for returning to the Hinterlands with Cassandra, while Del wanted to see about having armor prepared. Next time Elazar went out on one of these missions, she wanted to be prepared to go with him. Del would leave nothing up to chance or fate now, she would have her friend’s back, defend it if she must.

Most of her day was spent in lively debate with the blacksmith, Harritt. He was hesitant at first, Delphine assumed because he spied the staff at her back the moment she entered his forge, but began to open up the longer she was able to hold a conversation with him. Back in the Circle Delphine had studied mage armor as a purely academic topic. It was not something they would ever be allowed to make or own as they weren’t permitted to fight, but there had been plenty of books and schematic references in the tower library. She may have never had the opportunity to craft but the theory behind it was one she understood, and it was the theory she needed now. Harritt would concern himself with the actual creation, Delphine simply had to supply the instructions.

Harritt was the first person outside of the Circle who seemed to enjoy, and dare she say, respect her knowledge. For the first time Del wondered if Elazar was right about people outside the Circles. Maybe it was possible for people to find common ground with mages. Could it be that the rebels found sympathy for their cause outside of their own kind? Delphine had plenty of time to sit and ponder the thought as Harritt got to work on her enchanter armor. It would take a few days to complete, as the blacksmith also had to manage the growing need for standard armor and weapons for the new recruits. She was not in any particular hurry and went about helping Josephine the best she could in the meanwhile.

Like everyone else Josephine had plenty to do. There wasn’t much Delphine could do concerning politics, a subject Del was much more removed from outside of mage and Circle politics, but she had decent penmanship and some tact with words. She did what she could helping pen the letters out to the Chantry Mothers, and offered what insight she could on the clerics themselves. One was a distant cousin by marriage to Delphine’s mother and another had been one of her brother’s sponsors when he had pursued his calling. Giving her name to those two letters did not feel like much but Josephine reassured her that every bit of influence that could gather would help.

“You do not understand the power of your name?” Josephine seemed rather confused by it, but Delphine decided it was not something to hold against the Antivan woman. How was she supposed to understand the hesitancy of a noble turned mage?

“It is not a name that is truly mine,” it was difficult to put to words, although it was her name and would forever be the family she shared blood with, any power it held had been stripped away along with her title all those years ago. Most days, Delphine was alright with that fact. “I have not been a proper member of the Trevelyan family since I was sent to the Circle.”

Josephine’s usually bright face dropped, “I see…I did not consider that fact. There is that much separation between mages and their families?”

“Most never see or speak to their relatives after entering the Circle. I was lucky due to my family’s position in the city.”

“I see…”

The Ambassador was rather apologetic the next few times Delphine stopped by to offer her assistance, though there was no need for her to be. She was not offended by the topic. Delphine imagined most had little to no knowledge of what life as a mage entailed. It was not something she’d ever consider holding against the woman, especially when Josephine had been otherwise nothing but kind to her. Delphine wanted to do what she could to help the bustling woman but found there was not much she could take off her hands.

Delphine soon found herself with more time on her hands than she knew what to do with, particularly after Elazar departed for the Hinterlands. It was a different kind of lonesome that Del was not accustomed to. Much of her isolation in the Circle had been self-imposed. This was the kind of where she sat and prayed, hoping Elazar would return in one piece.

.

Eventually, she fell into a routine, checking in with Josephine and Harritt in the morning to offer what help she could. If there was anything for her to do, it was usually wrapped up by midday, so Del would spend her afternoons sitting on the side of the main steps of the village, taking in what sun she could and watching the soldiers train by the frozen lake. It was oddly satisfying to watch them continuously drill and spar. Delphine had enjoyed people watching in the Circle, this was just a kind of people she had not had the option of watching before. Additionally, it seemed to annoy Joshua. He would often spot her staring and shake his head or act as if he was shooing her away. They had been playing this odd game of theirs for just over a week when the Commander caught Joshua in his usual display of displeasure.  After what seemed like a thorough chewing out by his superior officer, Joshua waved her to come over.

Delphine made a point of approaching solemn-faced, worried she too would be getting a lecture from the former templar. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“The Commander asked to speak with you.”

She must have grimaced because Joshua looked absolutely thrilled to usher her towards the blond soldier.

Delphine wasn’t frightened by the ex-templar, per se, but after a lifetime of being watched by men and women like him, she had been instilled with a healthy sense of wariness around them. It did not matter if she was in the tower or at one of her family’s estates being guarded by one of her uncles or cousins, they all viewed her as a potential danger and they acted as such. She didn’t necessarily disagree with their view. Delphine understood the dangers of possession, but she had no reason to trust someone who already mistrusted her. Delphine had yet to see the Commander interact with any of the mages who remained at Haven, besides in their initial meeting. Most seemed to avoid him, which stood as no surprise. She had yet to see him mistreat one of her kind but that did not mean he didn’t either.

She wanted to make up her mind about the man, but there was a small voice in the back of her mind that urged her to look closer. She had not heard him utter any disparagement towards mages, even in the few war room meetings she had attended in the absence of Elazar. There was also a certain steel that he lacked. He was gruff, yes, the lip scar and light stubble made him appear the rough soldier, but his voice lacked a certain bite that Delphine had become accustomed to with templars.

“Ser, you asked to speak with me?”

In the time she had spent watching from afar, Delphine had concluded the Commander had two kinds of days. On occasions she could read him like a book; these were the days when the stress seemed to overwhelm him physically, leaving him looking sickly and gaunt in his bulky armor. The rest of the time, she could not discern what he was thinking. There was no doubt that the man was strait-laced and knew how to act the part of a leader. As for today, Delphine stood cautiously next to the former templar as he looked out over the training recruits, she could not read his hardened stare.

“The Herald said you two studied together in Ostwick, correct?”

Delphine blinked for a moment, she still did not associate Elazar with his new title, despite the advisors all referring to him as such. “Y-yes. Elazar and I met in the Circle.”

“Then you received some proper amount of training?”

A proper amount of training? Maker’s balls she was an Enchanter!

Not trusting her voice to not give away her frustrations, Delphine gave the ex-templar a cautious nod. She wondered if he was worried that she wasn’t aware of the threat of possession she faced? As if she had not been living with the constant reminder for nearly twenty years.

He appeared satisfied and quickly turned to shout at the soldier currently sparring with Joshua. “You there! There’s a shield in your hand. Block with it. If this man were your enemy, you would be dead. Lieutenant, don’t hold back. The recruits must prepare for a real fight, not a practice one.”

“Yes, Commander.” Joshua quipped before he promptly knocked down the younger man with a shield bash.

Turning back, the Commander seemingly returned to his earlier point. “We’ve received a number of new recruits- locals from Haven and some pilgrims. They are progressing well but some have never even met a mage before, let alone faced one in combat.”

Delphine had an idea of where this was headed now.

“I believe it would be beneficial for the new recruits to practice defending against magic. Would you be willing to assist with this?”

“I…I want to be as much help as possible, ser. But in truth I have next to no combative magic experience.” He was an ex-templar, surely he was aware of the fact that Circle mages were not trained in such magic. Any “combat” primal magic Circle mages knew was self-taught, personally developed, or from banned literature. Delphine had been taught healing, crafting, and barrier magic, disciplines meant to protect and serve.

Yet the Commander looked a bit surprised by her admission. “The Herald said he had been part of the group who rebelled against the templars at Ostwick so I assumed you had as well. Did you not agree with the others?”

Delphine thought it best not to mention that Elazar had been the one to lead the rebellion at Faxhold.

“No, I left the tower before Elazar and the others rebelled. My family is made of templars, ser, I couldn’t find it in myself to fight against those in my Circle either. I took the cowardly way out and ran away so I wouldn’t be forced to choose one side or the other.”

He paused for a moment as if to wrap his mind around the fact that there were mages out in the world that did not inherently desire the death of all templars. “Well, I do appreciate your sentiments. But now might be the time to come to terms with the fact we are in the middle of a war, with a giant hole in the sky.”

“I have been thinking long and hard about that,” Delphine quipped back. She was not so naïve to believe she would walk away from this all without raising her hand against another person. When it came to Elazar, she would do all in power to protect him, fight for him if the need arose, but it was a sense of defense, she did not seek out violence. Yet in this case, the Inquisition was the force trying to quell a rising storm in their world, using her magic in defense of that idea was not inherently violent, was it? And by helping these soldiers with their training, she could possibly be saving lives down the road. Wasn’t that worth it?

“I want to assist you, ser. I’m just worried that despite what training I do have, I am going to hurt an untrained recruit instead of teaching them properly.”

His lips pressed together into a thin line as he ran one gloved hand through his hair. “You have a valid concern, Delphine. The freshest recruits may not be ready to face an untested mage. It may be best to stick with demonstrations for now. Would you be comfortable sparring with a trained templar instead? Someone who already knows how to handle your attacks?”

Delphine was surprised by how quickly he was taking her concerns into consideration but nonetheless appreciated it. Perhaps the Commander wasn’t such a typical templar.

“That would make me worry less. Thank you, ser.”

“You really don’t need to keep calling me “ser,” Delphine. You’re not one of the recruits.”

“Oh, that’s a bit of an old habit, I suppose. Is Cullen alright then?”

“That’s perfectly fine.”

Delphine could have sworn she saw his lips twitch up into a small smile but it was so brief and with the afternoon sun reflecting off his well-polished armor she could have been seeing things.

“Whenever you are ready, come down to the field and I’ll have someone set to run demonstrations with you.”

.

Elazar returned from the crossroads the following day to find Del throwing balls of fire at a shield wall while Cullen explained how the stance was an effective way to defend against an apostate mage or rouge’s fire attacks.

“Cullen has even roped your friend into training the new recruits.” Elazar jumped about a foot off the snow, not having heard the Spymaster approach. “And it seems to be going well so far. What she lacks in experience she makes up for in talent.”

“She did always have a good grasp on her studies. And she spent more time with her nose in her books than I ever did, if we’re being honest.”

“Are you worried about her Herald?”

“Perhaps a bit. I know she’s capable, more than capable really. But I am the reason she’s here and I don’t know what I would do if something happened to her. At the same time, I also don’t know what I would do without her. She was the only person in the Circle I truly trusted.” And she was all Elazar had left from the Circle. Everyone else they had ever known was gone.

“Well, the faster we can seal the Breach, the faster the two of you can head home.”

“That’s what I hope.”

[Masterlist]

[afterthelastreset]

Krisei Zodiac Event Aries Week

Aries Zodiac Sign Info Gotten From:

https://www.horoscope.com/zodiac-signs/aries

“The first sign of the Zodiac, Aries are the trailblazers. Passionate and independent, Aries will never do something just because everyone else is doing it—a Ram needs to be 100 percent committed to the task at hand. Competitive to the max, the best way to motivate an Aries is to turn something into a contest. Aries will put everything they have (and then some) into winning. Loyal, smart, and impulsive, they always have multiple projects on their mind, and won't be satisfied until their work, social life, and personal lives line up exactly with the dream life they've envisioned. Those who are drawn to magnetic Aries may have trouble keeping up—but if they can, they'll have a friend for life.”

🔥Aries Week

Day 1: *when Susie Dares you on a blind date*

The candlelights were lovely tonight. Shining brightly against the otherwise dark room, making shadows dance across the walls and adding a certain flare to the whole scene. The few rays of light that didn't make the darkness dance were shining off the small pile of food in front of them, making them hungry. But he couldn't care less about those food right now, right now he was more nervous about the real gem in front of himself.

The monster’s white fur sparkled against his beautiful  face, delicate pink eyes fluttered those lashes at him and if he wasn't already sitting down, he would've fallen over from nerves alone. Luckily being frozen meant he didn't have to worry about sweating in front of him. He had a whole new other set of worries though. Like did he put everything together ok? Did Susie warn him enough? Did she give him the right wine for this thing? Oh gosh he hoped she didn't give him apple juice. Not that the goat monster seemed to mind though. He was smiling that beautiful grin of his.

"I must say, Kris. I wasn’t expecting to be asked by Susie to meet a man in such a dashing suit.~" He glanced down to the wine bottle in his hand before back to him and giving a chuckle. Making him smile his nervous grin wider, "I never suspected you'd be one of such class.”

Kris chuckled nervously and pulled at the bowtie around his neck, "U-Uh. Y-Y-Yeah, I honesty didn't know if you'd agree to g-going out with a plain old human like me. ...UH! N-Not to say y-you're selfish or anything!" His face became more scared when he had realized what he had said. Holding his hands up. "I-I just meant that you might not have wanted to g-go with me since you're way out of my league...U-UM! N-Not saying you're one of s-s-shallow and stuck up nobles! Because obviously you're not!"

The monster chuckled at his obvious flustering. But not in a bad way, on the contrary. He thought this little scene was absolutely adorable. And the lengths he went through, though not as fancy as other dates he went on, it was still so sweet how he went through all the trouble of putting this all together just for him. Kris froze when he heard the dark prince chuckle but Ralsei didn't look mad in the slightest.

"It's quite alright.~ I must say the set up has been quite sweet thus far.~"

Kris stared at him in disbelief. "Y-You..You really m-mean it?"

He chuckled again. "Yes, and I can’t wait for this to happen again.”

“D-Don’t worry. That’s a promise.”

Day 2:*boldly taking the first kiss*

One moment.

That's all that it took. One small breath moment to have the two freezing up and staring at each other in silent shock. The two silently stared at each other for what seemed like forever- ....It wasn't supposed to happen you know. All this time just going through the steps together, gracefully gliding across the ballroom floor all alone..It was just supposed to help him learn, not to start gazing into each other's eyes for weeks on end in private after hours, admiring his strength. His booming laughter. His slowly steadying grace to the movements he was asked to teach the giant monarch. It was never supposed to come to a folly such as this. What cruel entity up above thought it'd be a great idea to push them together and set thing strange fate? If he had any sense, he would excuse himself, pretended it never happened, and move on with their lives...

But-

His paws slowly gripped tighter around him and one look already told him he couldn't get away even if he flung his whole body forward. Not that he wanted too anyways. Eyes slowly closing. The giant paws gently bringing them closer. And in a last flee from sane thinking or any other life boggling mysteries about this whole thing-

They kissed.

Day 3:*taking that bold leap forward and taking your relationship to the next level*

Bells toiled with the distance and blinding white decorations coated the entirety of Card Castle's halls. One could smell and taste the sweet smell of the decorative flowers and the amount of deserts on the table nearby. OH what a wonderful delight to the senses this fine day was. And it was all the better for the two who's the entire celebration was for. One couple who's hardships and difficulties were no match against their hope. WHo's love despite the impossibilities that should've been there to begin with, wasn't shattered or gone away. Oh! They were tested for sure. Thick and thin. With tears shed, labored sweat, and much fighting for it. But still gained none the less. A testament for the outstanding bravery they had faced all for this one important day they had only dreamt of until now.

But with the rings slipped on his fingers. The smile on his face. The happy tears making the make up drip down his cheeks. Happy sobbing and awes from watching crowds. There was only one thing he could possibly say to something like this-

"I do."

Day 4: *boldly choosing to leave your own world to live with the one you love*

The warm bed hugged their bodies as they curled up to each other. The soft pillows and mattress was supposed to bring one comfort along with the blankets in times of rest. That was their job. That's what they were supposed to do wasn't it? The comfort of sleep was supposed to be a relaxing experience to have for all. But unfortunately sleep didn't come easily tonight, not when the one next to you was tossing and turning, and eventually woke you up with his grumbling and kicking. Oh no it simple wouldn't do at all. Not just for his own sanity, oh he could worry about that later, but the giant next to him. He couldn't just leave that be. Oh that would simply not do at all.

Currently the supposed to be silent room was alive with soft humming and little mumbles of sobs and chokes. The larger of the two had himself buried within the comforting embrace of the much smaller man as he continued to let out the sorrows of that night.

"I miss him, Ralsei. I-....I sometimes f-feel like..I betrayed her with this!"

He shushed the human. Patting his back, "No, no thou didn't. he would've understood. he wouldn't have thought bad of you."

"I-I d-don't-..."

He shushed him again, letting the two of them slightly rock back and forth. “You’ll be alright. Im here to help you."

Day 5:* Ralsei makes a bold move to contact the human*

It'll be ok just breath. Everything was going to be alright. There was totally not a chance this was going to blow up in his face, and he had zero chance of really embarrassing himself again in front of a potential hero. Yep! All he had to do was relax and not do anything to embarrass himself as always. YES! EVERYTHING WOULD BE TOTALLY FINE!!! He gave a couple more big gulps of air into his lungs as his body did the usual totally not nervous habits of tapping his foot, and wringing his hands together as he nervously kept staring up at the large door awaiting the approaching two. There he was....The hero. Well heroes but he wasn’t looking at the tall lady. Instead at the handsome hero of sparkling red eyes and fair blue skin as he walked towards the dark Prince. Ralsei could barely speak. Thank goodness his embarrassed face was hidden by the cloak. He swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke.

“Greeting Heroes...”

Day 6:* Kris contemplates his own family and the one he grew up with*

How does one decide another's worth? How does one predict another's personality or their impact they leave behind? Well unless you can see into the future and know for sure what you're dealing with then you're in for surprises. Which is what happened to him not too long ago. He could admit(just to himself) that he never expected to be surprised by someone he originally perceived as an easy pawn to his own needs. He never expected to be the one drawn to something so opposite of himself. But here he was, one moment minding himself the next-

The small child happily laughed and hugged the other man who was holding him. A strange family to one seeing it from the outside, but one he was more comfortable and familiar with over time. One he had to learn to accept but it was worth it in the end. But that brings up another question. What exactly made up a family? Most would picture a small house with a picket fence, a mom and dad, and a little boy and girl running around. But truth is it's not always that simple. Family is beyond blood or marriage.

It's who's always making you smile and there for you.

Day 7: *A kiss during a play is a forward move*

*Highschool drama club au*

The bright lights on the stage was almost blinding to the eyes of the ones on stage, and the audience but they weren't important right now. The glowing white light reflected perfectly off the two as they stood there wrapped in each other's embrace. Of course to the audience this was just another act of the school drama clun, and the ridicules costumes they were wearing for said performance were uncomfortable, but the way they was being held. The way the dashing prince's outfit fitted him. The way the white light shined off his beautiful features, no matter how artificial this role was, was absolutely breathtaking to them.

His handsome smile and fluttering eyelashes were to die for.

"And so. The Princess was safely returned to the Kingdom of Monsters," the narrator shouted somewhere on the stage to their right, but they barely paid attention. They were more focused on what the last part of the play script meant for them and their beautiful goat prince afterwards. "And the brave Prince was rewarded with her hand in marriage. They spent the rest of their lives together and lived happily ever after!"

The audience cheered in celebration and internally so did they when the prince finally got the oh so awaited kiss that was so rightfully his. It seemed like years before they pulled apart staring into each other's smile.

"Happily ever after, My Prince.~"

"Happily Ever After to US, Kris.~"

@krisei-world

[overstimulatethis]

Schlaflose Vogel: Chapter 2 [Pharmercy fanfic]

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Pharmercy

Rating: M

Summary: Angela doesn’t need to sleep very much. Fareeha, on the other hand, isn’t getting nearly enough. Caught between her duty as a doctor and her feelings for the Egyptian captain, Angela has to navigate her new role within Overwatch and her loneliness, while Fareeha struggles with a secret (or two) that could cause a lot of grief to the people she cares about.

Chapter: 2/2 (Prev)

Ana Amari was alive, and Fareeha was the only one who knew.

It had been almost a month since Ana’s letter came. It kept her up most nights, and she was afraid that it was beginning to become noticeable to the other members of the New Overwatch. The last thing she needed was a dip in her performance, now that she’d finally been able to have her lifelong dream recognized, but sleep simply eluded her.

Mostly, she didn’t know what to do with this information. Part of her wanted to tell Comm—Jack, or even Winston, as her superior officers. Another part of her just wanted to tell somebody, just to share the burden.

The largest part of her won out, though, and kept her from selfishly spilling her mother’s secret. Instead, here she was, lying awake and anxious at three in the morning. She had an appointment with the doctor at 0830, too, and she knew if Dr. Ziegler noticed how tired Fareeha was, she would say something.

A familiar, fluttering feeling took over Fareeha’s chest at the thought of her—she’d thought Dr. Angela Ziegler was the most beautiful woman in the world the very first time she’d laid eyes on her, and that sentiment had never gone away.

Ugh. Maybe she needed to take a walk.

Her clock read 0308 when Fareeha finished pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a lightweight, long-sleeved t-shirt. A jog, instead, maybe; exhausting her body sounded like it might work. She slipped on her running shoes and left her room, taking care to tread lightly until she got away from the dorms.

Time seemed to slow as Fareeha ran, succeeding—at least for a bit—in clearing her head. After a long while, she slowed her pace until she was walking as she had originally intended. The coolness of the complex Overwatch was currently housed in left the sweat to dry on her skin and clothes instead of evaporate, and she was actually starting to feel a bit chilly.

It was with this realization that Fareeha finally started to take note of her surroundings. She couldn’t help but let out an incredulous breath of laughter, as of course her subconscious had taken her directly to the good doctor’s med bay.

She shook her head at herself. How had a silly teenage crush morphed into such a sickeningly sweet, unrequited love?

Fareeha sighed before stepping forward. In any case, she was positive she was the earliest appointment the doctor had that day, and surely Dr. Ziegler wouldn’t mind her coming in a bit early to get it out of the way… right?

That fluttering feeling came back, an annoying reminder. Fareeha took a deep breath before stopping in front of the med bay doors. “Athena,” she called out, “I’d like to see Dr. Ziegler, please.”

“Yes, Captain Amari,” Athena answered immediately. “Dr. Ziegler is available.” The doors opened, and Fareeha tried her best to keep her chin high as she walked through.

Fareeha had been about two seconds away from a full breakdown when Angela had asked for the full story. The only thing that had grounded her was the fact that the most beautiful woman in the world had been wiping her tears.

So, okay, she probably shouldn’t have been so forward with the hot tub invitation, but something about Angela’s reaction told her that she wasn’t in the wrong. It had seemed like the doctor had been dropping hints since Fareeha walked in, and although she could very well be misreading things… if there was even the slightest chance that the woman she’d been in love with since she was sixteen could want to be with her, Fareeha wasn’t going to let her mother get in the way.

The day passed in a blur. She took Angela’s advice and kept the day for herself, but she ended up spending most of her time in the gym working off her excited energy, anyway. She made sure to shower, washing herself twice to be safe.

That night, she was ready at 2230, in swim trunks and a dark blue bikini top. She studied herself in the mirror for a while, particularly focused on her tattoo—the one she’d gotten not only as a reminder of her mother’s lessons, but in her memory. Was it a lie now, this mark that the doctor had caressed so caringly?

When she next glanced at the time, Fareeha had three minutes before she was supposed to meet Angela. She frantically ran around her room to collect her towel and shoes. As she reached for the door, Athena began speaking to her.

“Captain Amari, Dr. Ziegler is—”

Not paying attention in her hurry, Fareeha opened the door right as Athena said, “outside,” and there, in fact, stood Dr. Angela Ziegler with her hand raised to knock. They each jumped back about a foot before laughing nervously.

“I’m sorry to intrude—”

“I didn’t mean to scare—”

They stopped stumbling over each other’s words and laughed again. Fareeha noticed that Angela now had that same adorable blush she’d had earlier in the med bay. She could feel herself smiling widely—it was the same smile she always seemed to get around Angela. She gestured for the doctor to speak first.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sweet smile. “I thought it would make sense for us to walk together, since we’re only a couple doors away from each other.”

Fareeha felt her heart flutter once again. She was adorable. “Of course! I would love to walk with you.” She tried to tell herself that she was locking all thoughts of her mother away in her room as she shut the door behind her. Thankfully, it wasn’t too hard to focus her attention on Angela when she was right next to her.

As they started walking, a silence fell over them. Fareeha found it strange—not the silence itself, but the fact that she didn’t feel the need to end it, at least for the moment. She glanced at Angela out of the corner of her eye to try and garner whether she was feeling the same way, but she couldn’t see well without being obvious.

Angela broke the silence after a few moments, anyway. “How was the rest of your day, after our appointment? If I may say so, you already look like you’re feeling at least a bit better than before.”

Fareeha turned to face her now, heart warming at the sight of Angela’s soft smile. She gave one of her own in return. “Well, I took some good advice from my doctor and took a break today.”

“Oh, really?” Angela said, shock and slight disbelief apparent in her tone. “What did you do all day, then?”

Fareeha faced forward and scratched the back of her neck. “Ah, well I wasn’t working, which was the true intention, so…”

Angela giggled, a hand coming up to hover over her mouth. “You were in the gym all day, weren’t you?” When Fareeha only pursed her lips in reply, Angela let out a full-on laugh. “You soldiers, you’re all the same. You can never just sit still, can you?”

Fareeha scoffed, indignance overcoming her slight embarrassment. “I don’t think you can be one to lecture me on that, Dr. Ziegler. If I recall, you were in need of a break for yourself, as well. At least I actually did no work today.”

Angela hummed as they approached the gym doors. “You do have a point there.” The doors opened automatically for them, and Fareeha let Angela through first. “How chivalrous,” Angela teased, causing Fareeha’s face to turn a deep color once more.

With Angela in front of her now, Fareeha finally took notice of what she was wearing. As they crossed the empty gym to get to the spa doors, Angela’s thigh-length coverup dress barely covered her ass, and her long legs were completely on display. Fareeha had to quickly stop herself from bumping into Angela from behind, as she’d accidentally started staring.

Angela offered her a distraction by opening the spa doors and announcing, “Here we are!” The spa was small and clean, but not very well used, true to Angela’s testament. Everything still looked brand new, but the complex was decades old.

The hot tub was rather large, and not currently bubbling. Fareeha had to admit that the steam rising from the water made it look extremely inviting.

Then Angela placed the towel she’d been carrying on a nearby chair and lifted her coverup over her head. Underneath the white mesh-like material was a gold and black bikini. Fareeha felt like she was sixteen again, ogling her crush from across the room.

Angela cleared her throat, jerking Fareeha out of her daze. She lifted her eyes back to Angela’s face, which was now glowing as red as her own probably was. Part of her was sorry, and she voiced as much in apology, but… “You’re just so beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”

Angela bit her lip and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “I appreciate it, Fareeha. And really, I don’t mind at all.” Fareeha’s jaw went a bit slack at the pointed look Angela gave her.

There was no way she could be misreading all of this, right?

Angela turned away from her and walked to the hot tub, setting the dial on the wall beside it to fifteen minutes and waiting for the machine to start. When the water began to bubble and splash, Angela stepped down into the hot tub. She sank down until her shoulders were covered and, with a relaxed-sounding sigh, floated over to sit on the bench.

Fareeha was quick to follow, placing her own towel next to Angela’s and nearly running into the water. She hummed lowly as the warmth enveloped her. Fareeha followed Angela’s lead and dropped to immerse herself up to her neck, sitting on the opposite side of the circular tub. She leaned her head back for a moment and enjoyed the feeling of her muscles relaxing.

“Thank you for this, Angela,” she said with her eyes closed. “I never would have come here if not for you. I really needed this day, apparently.” When Fareeha righted her head and opened her eyes, it wasn’t to what she expected.

Angela had a very determined look in her eyes. She tilted her head when Fareeha met her gaze, and then she was slowly moving closer to her. Fareeha sat up straighter in the tub, shivering as the air hit her shoulders. “Angela?” she said, but she didn’t receive an answer.

Instead, Angela maintained eye contact with her as she moved closer, placed her hands on Fareeha’s shoulders, and straddled her lap. Fareeha felt like she couldn’t move, not even breathe, or she might shatter this dream she had found herself in.

“Fareeha,” Angela said so softly, hands traveling up to rest in her hair. “Tell me to stop.”

“And if I don’t want to?” Fareeha didn’t know how she was able to speak when she couldn’t feel herself breathing, still. But that was okay, because Angela was kissing her.

Fareeha’s hands quickly grabbed onto Angela’s hips, even though her brain had yet to catch up with what exactly was happening. Sixteen-year-old her probably used this as a fantasy, and yet here she was, living it?

She moaned as Angela’s hands pulled her close to kiss her harder. Fareeha’s grip tightened on Angela’s hips, causing her to grind down onto Fareeha’s lap.

How is this happening? was the thought that made Fareeha pull back, as much as she just wanted to enjoy this before it disappeared. “Wait, I… why?” she stumbled out breathlessly, struggling to focus with Angela’s hands still running through her hair. She couldn’t help but glance down to Angela’s kiss-swollen lips every few seconds.

“Well,” Angela said softly, hands moving to tickle the baby hairs at the nap of Fareeha’s neck as she talked, “I’ve been thinking about you all day. Honestly, it’s been going on for quite some time, but I just realized that you feel the same way. And we’ve both been so blind,” Angela let out a small laugh, “that I knew you weren’t going to do something any time soon, so… I took it upon myself. I hope you don’t mind…?”

“Are you kidding?” Fareeha said incredulously. She felt a moment’s hesitation, but something told her to dive in head first. “Angela, I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen. You do know how incredible you are, right?”

The look Angela gave her in response was probably the softest Fareeha had ever seen. Angela brought a hand back up to cup Fareeha’s cheek and slowly leaned in to kiss her once more. She could feel Angela inhale deeply as they kissed, before she pulled back and breathed, “I love you. Make love to me,” over Fareeha’s lips.

Fareeha got to watch in awe as Angela came above her, riding her fingers and gripping the edge of the hot tub. With the way she sang her name, Fareeha knew she had to hear it again. She lifted Angela from the water and shakily walked over to lay her down on one of the lounge chairs nearby. The second time Angela came, Fareeha came with her, grinding against Angela’s thigh and moaning against her mouth.

After their heartbeats started to calm, Angela bit her lip and looked up at her. “Would you… like to come stay with me tonight?”

Fareeha took in this sight, of nearly-naked Angela wrapped in her arms, pupils wide and lips swollen. The only thing she could think of that would make her happier would be waking up next to her.

“I’d love to,” Fareeha whispered against Angela’s lips.

Needless to say, they both slept very soundly that night.

The next morning, Angela and Fareeha sat down for breakfast together, politely greeting the other agents in the room. They hadn’t been worried about anyone being suspicious, so they were just trying to act as normal, wanting to see how long they could keep this to themselves.  

…But then Hana walked in.

“Hey, Ange, ‘Reeha!” she greeted loudly, making a beeline for the coffee pot. “Did you sleep well? I bet you slept as well as me, ‘cause I had the best midnight workout—oh, wait. No, that wasn’t me. I couldn’t work out because you guys were! That’s right! Pretty loudly, actually. Anyways,” she took a sip of coffee from her procured mug, “you’ll have to let me know how the spa was, although I’m not quite sure I’ll want to use the hot tub, anymore. See you later, though!”

As Hana left, Angela and Fareeha were blushing madly. Torbjörn guffawed, along with Reinhardt, who lifted his own mug of coffee in a congratulatory gesture through his laughter. Lena let out an, “It’s about damn time!” on her own way out, and Satya had a small smile on her face as she took in the whole scene, herself. Angela and Fareeha worriedly looked to Jack, but his expression was blank as he silently tilted his own cup their way before taking a bite of his food.

Fareeha turned back to Angela with a smile and covered her hand with one of her own. Angela met her gaze with an airy laugh and shook her head as she turned her hand over to squeeze Fareeha’s.

Ana briefly came to mind, but it was different from before. For once, a bit of hope lit up in Fareeha’s chest. Angela returned her feelings, and now her mother was alive to see their future together. Soon, she would be able to tell not only Angela, but the rest of the agents about her mother’s return. Overwatch was back, and they were going to save humanity from this second Omnic Crisis. She was surrounded by people who cared for her, and she cared for them.

Everything felt brighter.

[zankivich]

Teacher’s Pet: A College AU - The Epilogue Part 1

a/n:  I know what you’re thinking....bitch why did this take so long? but like here my out. I started a whole other plus-size woman series, I got writer’s block, school was shit, mental health was shit, and this motherfucker is still like 15k long! so I broke her up into two parts. She’s angsty and cute and hopefully real? idk. I really hope you like. Let me know plz? K bye. 

*Six months later*

“Shawn Peter Raul we are going to be late!” You yelled.

You were late. You were so fucking late, and Karen was going to kill you. You’d only been given one job and that was to get Shawn to graduation on time and in his cap and gown. It had only taken him stepping into the shower beside you that morning to fuck that up. Woops.

“Babe, I can’t find my tie!” He called from the bedroom.

You tapped your heel impatiently against the wooden floors.

“It’s on the dresser next to your cap where I told you it was thirty minutes ago, bud. We gotta go!”

He came walking out in his black slacks and those boots of his that always clacked against the floors. His mother had asked him to wear the tie and it really was going to look beautiful against the backdrop of his floral button up. Your mans was sort of beautiful.

“What?” He asked at the smile that was clear on your face.

You shrugged pulling the tie around his neck to tie it for him.

“Nothing. You just look really good.”  

His fingers came up to touch your waist and you grinned.

“Yea?”

“You know you look good, asshole. Stop flirting with me. We’re late.”

“But you’re so pretty.” He hummed. “What are you doing later?”

“I’m going to see this concert later actually. I got tickets to an Ed Sheeran show. Hear, the opener’s supposed to be good.”

Shawn snorted. “I don’t know. I heard he’s shit. Kid’s got no stage presence.”

“Yea, but he’s kinda hot. Who cares what he sounds like?”

He swatted playfully at your ass for that one before you finally are able to get out the door.

You get to the venue just in time for Shawn to line up with the graduates and you just barely made it to his family, out of breath and sweaty. But, as long as Shawn got to fucking walk everything would be fine.

It had certainly been a hell of a rollercoaster the last few months. Shawn’s spring semester had been hectic to say the least. They had released his first single to astounding reception and everything had blown up since then. He was performing two, three, sometimes four nights out of the week and doing twelve credit hours on top of that. It was more work than either of you had been prepared for, and it definitely wasn’t easy. You snapped at each other sometimes. You got lonely when he was away, and he got lonely too. Sometimes you went weeks without seeing one another. But, he always came back to you. And every time you heard the door open, his keys in the bowl, the tapping of his boots against the hardwood floors, you remembered that it was all worth it. You grew closer because of it, and the fact that you came out of it on the otherside was just a testament to how much both of you were willing to do whatever it took to stick together.

Graduation day was a huge affair for the Mendes family and it was impossible not to get swept up in their energy. They were excited to watch Shawn graduate, and you had the biggest sense of pride as well. After all you had been the one to watch him come home from shows at two in the morning just to write a paper for class the next day. You had sat with him when his anxiety had been at its peak and he hadn’t been able to breathe for minutes or hours at a time. You were there for every low but you were also there for every high. The first time he’d met Ed Sheeran and Andrew had told him that he would be his opener for the North American leg: fifty shows of getting up and playing for an audience every night. You were there when his single had debuted in the top 10 on billboard, and Teddy and he had popped champagne in the middle of one of the practice rooms on campus. You got to watch him live his dream and it was the most beautiful thing in the world for you.

He walked across the stage all overly long limbs and that adorable fucking goofy smile with a diploma in hand. It’s everything you ever wanted for him and you’re so proud that maybe you somehow smudge your eyeliner. It definitely isn’t by crying though, no sirree. Not at all.

Aaliyah catches a picture of Shawn lifting you up in his arms to kiss you just minutes after the ceremony ended and it might just be your favorite picture ever.

There’s a big, huge dinner with Shawn and all of his friends to celebrate their achievement. The excitement of the day reminds you of when you finished undergrad and the feelings that came with that. It really was an incredible achievement and watching the pride of his family and friends as they all celebrated him felt better than good. You just loved knowing that he had done it. He’d gotten the degree and the dream and he was going to go on to have everything he ever wanted. Your love for him meant that watching him get it all filled you with a joy unlike any other. Because you’d never meant anyone that deserved happiness like Shawn did.

You’re sitting at one of the long banquet like tables engrossed in a conversation with Aaliyah about boys, when he comes for you. He had a corona in his hand which he placed beside your much more sophisticated Old Fashioned and his fingertips were icy where they touched gently at your neck.

“Can I steal her away for a second?” He smiled at his sister.

She nodded excitedly shooing each of you  away with both her hands as Shawn tugged you to the dance floor. He wrapped his arms perfectly around your shoulders not even giving you a chance to do anything but sway awkwardly back and forth. But that was the only kind of dancing you wanted to do anyway.

“Hi.” He whispered peering down at you with nothing short but adoration.

You wrapped your arms around his waist in return smiling up at him with similar sentiments.

“Hi.”

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a very long time. I don’t know if I can let you graduate again if it means all these festivities will keep you away from me.”

You snorted. “You’ll be happy to know that graduate degrees are a lot less of a to-do. Besides the fact that we drove here together, and I saw you thirty minutes ago.”

“Sure, babe, but I had to sit with all those other people for like three hours. And then my mum and my dad made me take more pictures than that photoshoot I did last month. I didn’t even want this party. I’d much rather be cuddled up at home with you.”

“That’s actually really sweet. We’re together now though. Isn’t that what matters?”

He rolled his eyes playfully pulling you closer against his chest so that your eyes no longer met.

“I guess.” He sighed. “Look, I have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

You stilled under his arms, both of you no longer moving on the dance floor.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. I actually talked to Andrew last week. With how well the single has been doing. And the youtube endorsement and the shows with Ed. I’m gonna be able to pay off my parents debt for my college.”

“Babe! That’s incredible. I know how much taking care of them means to you.”

You tried to pull back to look at him, but his arms only tightened around you.

“You’re right. It means a lot to me. But, I also found a place. It’s uh--it’s close enough for you to drive to school every day and close enough for me to get to the studio or anywhere else I might need to be. It’s not in LA or anything like that. It’s just barely bigger than the place you have now but...it’d be ours. If that...if you wanted that.”

Your heart stopped. Your feet stopped. Everything came to a crashing halt. His arms which has been holding you captive broke easily when you tugged away. Shawn could easily take you with brute strength but the knowledge that you wanted him to let you go was all that he ever needed to be stopped. The two of you had talked about moving in together since that day in the beach. It had seemed incredibly unrealistic at the time, mostly because you were two broke college students with no way in hell to afford a Californian apartment. But, that hadn’t stopped you from fantasizing, from whispering to each other in the bed that you shared at night. It just never looked like it would actually happen. For Shawn to surprise you with it on his own graduation day was absolutely ridiculous, and absolutely the kind of thing he would do. And maybe that’s why you were so incredibly in love with him.

“I’ll get a job. I can use my stipend to chip in with rent, but if I work at a bar or something on the weekends? I can help even more.” You smiled.

He frowned at you. “What? Why would you get a job at a bar when you should be focusing on school? Y/n I’m not asking you to pay anything here. I just...I just wanna live with you.”

You could see the softness that seemed to radiate from your gentle giant of a boyfriend. He was always fairytales and roses and nothing else. Of course he’d never ask you to pay anything. But, surely he had to know you and know that you’d never live with him and not hold up your end of the bargain.

“I want to live with you too, Shawn. So, so much. I’m not doing it for free though.” You assured him.

He brought his hands up to cup your face, massive hands covering the majority of your face as he pressed a kiss to your nose and forehead.

“I love you.” He mumbled. “Let’s talk about the details later. Will you move in with me? That’s all that matters right now.”

You knew he’d try to talk you out of it with all of his might. You knew you’d have to stand firm,and that eventually you’d get your way. But every now and again fairytales and roses weren’t such a bad thing. If anything he’d taught you that.

“Yea. Yea, I’ll move in with you.”

“Yea?!” He grinned wrapping you up in his arms again.

“Yea!”

That night you watch him live out his dream in the most tangible way imaginable. On stage in front of twenty thousand people. And you can’t help but remember that night at the bar for the first time. When he just wanted to impress you with his guitar and his words. And he had. Watching him made you stop, made you take notice of every twitch of muscles and every note that came from his lips. You had two favorite Shawns. One was in the mornings. The days when he had decided not to go to gym and you somehow woke up before him. His curls would be wild and matted in some places and the pillow always left red lines on his cheeks. He was beautiful. The other though, was on the stage. His button up would be sweaty and sticky on his back and his eyes would be so wild and bright, so much brighter than the lights even. It never seemed to matter if it was three or three thousand, but every time someone sings the songs back at him he just exudes a happiness unlike anything you’d ever experienced. You know that the stage was his home in the way that he was home for you. And there’s nothing you love more than getting to watch him have that.

It’s only a thirty minute set but when he comes off stage that night he’s alive and full to the brim with energy. He hugs his mum and his dad and his little sister, but when he gets to you he kisses you like it’s maybe the last time he’ll ever see you. And he wraps you up in his arms and doesn’t let you pull alway, not even for a second. It’s like something about his love for the stage transfers to you, and if that’s not the biggest fucking compliment you’re not sure what is.

“Come with me.” He whispered.

He’d barely changed out of his shirt from the set, hadn’t cooled down or anything, before he tugged you into the crowd with everyone else. One second he’s the focal point for everyone in the arena and the next you’re just fans, you’re just people in the crowd enjoying the music. And it’s beautiful and wonderful and you completely forget that your boyfriend is Shawn Mendes, that that means something now. He’s just yours and you don’t have to share him when you’re jumping around like dumbasses to your favorite songs. It feels so good.

But then Ed’s strumming his guitar and asking people to put their phones in the sky, and Shawn’s wraps his arms around your waist from behind.

“I don’t usually dedicate this song to anyone, but a mate of mine asked, and I couldn’t refuse. So, y/n, wherever you are; this one's for you.”

The beginning chords of Perfect begin to play, but how could you ever focus on that through the tears?

“I can’t believe you!” You huffed spinning in his arms to face you.

His palms came up to hold your face in his hands and his lips touched your forehead, touched your lips, touched your ear.

“I wanted you to know that no one has ever loved anyone the way that I love you. This is the only way I knew how!”

And it hits you then in a way that it never has before. It’s not about the fact that your boyfriend got Ed Sheeran to dedicate a love song to you. It’s the inability to say what something is. You use similes and metaphors to try and describe feelings and it never really does it justice. But music, when it is at its most raw and it’s most guttural evokes love and pain and passion in a way that nothing else can. You know his love in that moment because the melodies are recreating it within you. Like it travels into your ear and down into your heart and settles there, nestles warm and soft, forever. And you love him just the same. In a way that consumes a piece of you until it is no longer your own, until it belongs to him as he belongs to you.

He holds you against his chest and he spins you around and he sings the words back into your ear over the loud expanse of the crowd. No one has ever loved anyone the way that you love each other. It’s yours. To have and to hold and to treasure. So you do.

****

*Three years later*

It’s a hard day. It’s been a hard month. A hard year in truth and you’re not sure what to do with it all. Shawn’s been on tour most of the year. His first headlining U.S tour had turned into a European tour had turned into a world tour. But, he was happy and so you were happy. In all honesty you had learned how complex emotions could be in your relationship with Shawn. Because you were happy for him. That was fact. You felt it sincerely and you knew in your bones that it wasn’t a lie. But, you were also sad when he was away. And he’d been away for so long that you were afraid you might forget the sound of his laugh, or the feel of his curls between your fingers. You felt the sadness and the fear and….and anger. There was an anger there too. At him? At yourself? At every single person who got to file into a room every night and see your boyfriend before you did?

But none of that was meant to matter that day. You were being honored with an award that night for your research. It was a really big deal because there grant money involved and you were the youngest person to ever win the award. There was a banquet And in your field there was rarely ever enough money for there to be a banquet. And Shawn was going to come. Shawn had promised he would come.

You’re on your way to get your hair done for the event when the call comes in.

“Babe!” You squeaked as the speaker phone kicked in. “I am on my way to the hair salon as we speak. Gotta try and look good if I’m gonna be stood next to you huh? Did you get your suit?”

“H--Hey sweetheart, listen I uh--”

“No. No. Shawn please, no.” You sighed pulling to a stop at the red light.

You hit weakly at the steering wheel in protest.

“I’m so sorry. Listen I--I’m so sorry. Andrew scheduled a last minute interview and the flights just aren’t lining up. I couldn’t say no.”

You chuckled. “Couldn’t say no. All I’ve heard in the last six months is no, but god forbid Andrew hear the word no.”

“Y/n, that’s not fair. You know how much this all means to me.”

“Yea, no, of course I do. I know how much everything means to you, Shawn, but what about me? Don’t I--do I pull any weight at all?”

The light turns green and your foot stutters on the gas like your lip stutters as the tears start to build again. There’d been an attempt to use “I feel” statements lately. It was your therapists idea. The idea that you should be sharing how you feel instead of stifling it as was usually your initial instinct. The problem became when you were overcome with emotion, the last thing you wanted to do was follow that stupid fucking exceriese.

“Of course you do. Do you wanna tell me what you’re feeling right now?”

Ugh.

“I feel like my boyfriend is an asshole. I feel like there is a line of fifty thousand people in front of me to visit who is supposed to be the love of my life. And everytime I think I’ve got my ticket? Every time I think I’m at least somewhere in the line of people in your life? Someone else just gets to jump in front because they’re more important.” You huffed as a tear ran angrily down your cheek. “This night meant so much to me. All I wanted was for you to be there. It’s the only thing I wanted.”

“Baby I--”

You don't think you can stand to hear him say sorry again, don’t think your fucking heart could take it. So, you hang up and you sit in the parking lot of your salon for fifteen minutes bawling your eyes out before you go and get your hair done because the world doesn’t stop spinning because your boyfriend’s a jackass. Which he is.

You get all dolled up that night in this beautiful black gown with a dangerously high knee slit . It was supposed to make you feel powerful, ethereal, beautiful. And somehow not having Shawn there just fucks all of that up. You just wanted him to be proud of you, wanted him to share in these important moments of your life the way that you had been there for every single one of his. It hurts worse than you knew what to do with. You can’t put makeup on that night because every few minutes you have to blink angrily to keep the tears at bay. The worst part is remembering how much Shawn loved you without it, and knowing that if he would’ve showed up he would’ve told you how beautiful you were. But, he wasn’t.

The ceremony is beautiful. You’re surrounded by the most intelligent people in your field and it makes you appreciate the work that you all are doing, validates that you’re not alone in that work. You’re sat a table with people who will probably go on to save the world, if it isn’t already too badly damaged, and that means something to you. Half way through the night your phone vibrates in the clutch you’d gotten to match your dress, which literally only fit your phone in it. It’s Shawn. Usually you would’ve excused yourself from whatever was going on to talk to Shawn. Your moments with him could often times feel fleeting and small. But tonight wasn’t about him for once. It was about you. And tonight you got to be the one who was too busy. If only for tonight.

You’re sitting at the bar sipping on whiskey on the rocks because you’re not driving home and they’ve already given you the award so who cares if you get a little tipsy when he comes up. He’s maybe just under six feet and his hair is brown and neatly trimmed though the shade is much too dark for your liking. He’s got wild green eyes and it pairs lovely with the darkness of his suit which happens to pair lovely with the darkness of your dress. Before you even blinked he’s sitting beside you and turning those green eyes on you. You noticed that his eyes were kind, and that you liked that.

“Hi.” He murmured nodding his head towards the glass in your hand. “Scotch?”

You grinned slightly. “Whiskey.”

“Ah, my kind of woman. Can I have whatever she’s having?” He asked the waiter.

You’d already had one so your head is feeling a little fluttery. You leaned your chin against your palm so you could see him better.

“You received an award for your work with Trans sexworkers in Atlanta right?”

“Yea, actually. Although most of the credit should go to my research partner Clara. Me being a cis-het male, who’s white-passing doesn’t exactly harber a connection with folks who have been victimized from people who look like me. I just was really fascinate by the topic and wanted to help in whatever way that I could.”

You nodded. “Yea, no I understand. The hardest thing is wanting to do work that elevates untold stories, but recognizing your privilege is deeply rooted in their oppression. Sometimes you just have to bow out. At least that’s what I think. But, uh I did my thesis for my masters on mental health and trans women. Most of my research ended up being tailored to Black women and women of color in LA because I was close and they was a bigger community of folks. I was really fascinated when I read your study.”

“Well thank you that means a lot coming from you. You’re kind of like the belle of the ball here.”

You snorted. Actually snorted. Ugh.

“I highly doubt that. I’ve only been alive a fraction of the time some people around here having been making meaningful impacts on their communities.”

“And yet you were given the most prestigious honor of the night.”

“Hmmm… You’ve got me there. Guess I’m kind of a badass.” You joked bringing your drink up to your lips.

You watched his eyes dip down to your mouth and perhaps you began to catch on that this wasn’t simply about your work.

The waiter placed his drink in front of him and he moved to take a sip only to wince as the alcohol burned his throat.

“Jesus. You are a badass.” He coughed.

“People tend to underestimate a woman’s ability to drink men under the table. Your shitty beer has nothing on my long islands. Assuming of course that we’re sticking to very gendered understandings of drinking, which I guess if my drink is anything to go off of, we’re not.”

He smiled at you and it made you un-cross and re-cross your legs. You hadn’t been smiled at like that in a long time.

“I never got the chance to introduce myself officially. I’m Jaden.”

He asked you more about what you were working on at the time. He offered suggestions for parameters to meet the needs of the communities you were working with. You talked about politics for a little while, and about the latest celebrity male that had been ostracized from the community for sexual assault or rape or persuasion or some other awful thing. It felt good to have someone to talk to, someone who understood. And sitting there, you could see it. You see how simple of a life it would have been to be with someone like him. Someone who’s work aligned with your own, someone who’s passions in life were similar. It would easier, for sure.

But, the second he’d stepped up to that bar the only thing your mind had registered was that he wasn’t Shawn. His hair color was off. He had neatly trimmed facial hair that thankfully Shawn didn’t.  His eyes weren’t the perfect shade of brown. And he would never cause the same excitement of Shawn sending you a news article about a terrible thing going on in the world, and knowing that his ability to critique and to learn had started with an intro to feminism course those few years ago. Shawn wasn’t an expert on all things social justice, but he cared because you did, and he made the effort to be plugged into your world. Well, except for tonight. And the last couple of months. Why’d you have to go and fuck up now?

“So uh...if you don’t mind me asking, there was a lot of talk about your boyfriend showing up here tonight.” Jaden finally murmured.

You hummed. “Really? Is that a thing that you all talk about?”

“Not me necessarily, but even human rights activists like a little gossip. I think rock-star heart throb makes that list.”

“At least you’re honest, I suppose.”

He smirked. “And you’re deflecting.”

“You never asked me a question.”

“Fair. Why isn’t your boyfriend here with the most beautiful woman in the room?”

You bit your lip eyes straining to your glass.

“I--I’m not sure.”

You don’t know why you said that. You knew Shawn had said there was press. There were interviews. There were things that needed his attention. You just couldn’t quite figure out why you weren’t one of them. What was wrong with you?

“I mean….I should--I should go.”

His hand reached out to touch your bare knee stilling you into silence. You hadn’t been touched by anyone who wasn’t Shawn in years.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out I just...You’re gorgeous. You’re incredibly intelligent, one of the smartest people in this room. The way you talked about your work tonight on that stage told me that your heart is absolutely massive. I’m struggling to understand a world where you’re not appreciated to the fullest degree. You gotta know you deserve that.”

His touch turned to fire on your skin. The fact that no one besides Shawn had touched you had been purposeful, and this, this felt wrong. He wasn’t yours and you weren’t his and more than that you didn’t want to be. So, you stood up and smoothed out your dress before downing the rest of your drink. You hoped that you looked graceful and elegant despite feeling like absolute shit inside. You wondered how long you’d feel like absolute shit inside.

“You have a nice night, Jaden.”

The driver waits outside for you and stumbling into the back seat slightly past tipsy and sad is not a good luck. You just wanted your dumb boyfriend to show up. That’s all that you had asked for. And now some dumbass had hit on you and tried to make you feel special and it’s not that that’s what you wanted at all. You didn’t want anyone to make you feel special, you wanted Shawn to be the one to do it. You just wanted him.

The tears began to well up again and before you knew it you were croaking at your driver to head for the nearest place that offered burgers.

“Ma’am that’s not really within my purview.”

You sniffled. “P--Please? I’ll pay whatever overtime there is.”

He looked at you in the mirror and maybe he pitied you a little bit because eventually you wind up parked outside your apartment barefoot with a cheeseburger in one hand and your fancy glass award in the other. The driver helps you to your door because whiskey is a hell of a drink and you spend some time fumbling with your keys before bursting through the door. You tip him double. You’re kind of a shit show; he deserves it.

You’re still munching on your cheeseburger and tripping over the trane of your dress when you stumble upon the flowers and the candles. In all honesty the alcohol is talking and it doesn’t really register in the way that it does. His bags are still on the ground by the door and the deeper you walk into the apartment the more his smell starts to linger in the air. You’d always found that so interesting. Shawn could be in Tokyo or Switzerland or Mexico, but every time he came home he still smelled like him. You loved that.

He was sitting at the kitchen table with a cupcake in front of him when you arrived. He turned to look at you and you could tell he hadn’t slept or shaved. There were bags beneath his eyes and a scruff on his chin. His hair was messy like he’d been tugging on it. But, he smiled when he saw you, eyes gentle and searching. This was home. Right here with him. Even an intoxicated you knew that.

“W--What are you doing here?”

“I changed the in-person interview to a phone interview. I tried to change my flight earlier to get here in time, I swear to you I did, but...this was the best I could do.” He sighed stepping heasistantly closer to you. “You look so beautiful in that dress, baby.”

Your eyes fluttered down to the ground shifting your weight back and forth on your ankles. The tears were coming again.

“Thanks.” You mumbled blinking down at your toes. “What’s with all the flowers and candles?”

He’s a little closer now. He’s trying to make eye contact with you, but he won’t reach out and touch unless you give him permission. You know that about him.

“I just wanted to show you that I care, that I’m here for you like you’re there for me. I--I wanted to apologize too, for ever making you feel like that wasn’t the case. You have every right to be angry with me. I guess I just wanted to try and make it up to you somehow.”

You don’t say anything back and he takes another step forward until your standing right in front of each other. The burger is long forgotten in your hand and the award feels even heavier in your grasp. He looks a little desperate in his eyes, an expression you don’t see from Shawn very often. He’s nervous. You wonder a little what he sees on your face that makes him feel this way.

“Babe,” His voice cracks around the word. “Y/n. Please, won’t you look at me?”

You sniffle and struggle to tilt your head up at him, but even then you can’t look him in the eye.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen at the dinner?”

A laugh burst past your lips and you wish you knew where the hell it came from.

“Are you drunk?”

He must have smelled the whiskey.

“Maybe.” you shrugged. “Still working on it though.”

You take another bite of the burger and shuffle past Shawn to get to the liquor cabinet in the kitchen. You know he’s directly behind you in the way your body knows when he settles into the bed at night behind you. It’s a sixth sense of some kind.

“Hey can we--can we just talk, please? Tell me what’s going through your head right now.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” You mumbled.

“Why? You’re freaking me out, y/n. Just talk to me.”

You don’t raise your voices at each other. It’s a thing that you have. You used to watch your dad yell at your mom when you were a little kid, and truthfully just watched men in various stages of anger. It always made you flinch. You must have confessed it once during a night with a little too much to drink, or a night when he’s made you feel so happy you forgot what a secret even was. He’d never really, intentionally raised his voice before, but after that night he’d purposely kept his voice calm in even the angstiest of times with you. Right now his voice is edging up an octave. It’s not yelling, doesn’t even make you flinch, but you notice that he’s not a hundred percent composed.

You settle your palms against the kitchen counter trying to tether yourself to the room, to the moment. Usually Shawn always did that for you, but right now you’ve never felt more away.

“There was a guy tonight.”

It slips out. It’s like word vomit. Everything you’re thinking is moving much faster than your mouth is capable of, and the whiskey acts as a truth serum to your innermost thoughts. No amount of alcohol in the world could ever make you forget the look on his face when you said it though, the way his mouth just sort of popped open. His palm comes to rest over his heart like maybe just that alone was enough to break him. And suddenly you’re hurting too. You’re hurting more than him missing any dumb banquet could ever accomplish because this is Shawn’s pain. Shawn’s pain always hurts more.

“What does that mean? What do you--what happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened. I was just sitting at the bar drinking and he sat down. He told me he loved my work. H--He did research with Trans sex-workers in Atlanta and we talked about that. He’s pro prison abolition. He studied anthropology and political science in undergrad and got his PhD in critical race theory. And he--”

“The point, y/n. Get to the point. So he’s perfect for you is that what you’re trying to tell me? He’s smarter than me, he cares more about human rights, he’s dedicated his life to the same work that you do. What are you saying to me right now?”

He’s freaking out. You’re freaking out.

“Maybe? Yea, maybe he’d be better for me.”

He blinks, shock clear on his face. He thumbs at his lip and those are tears in his eyes. A curl falls down to his forehead, but you know that it’s not your place to fix it right now. Don’t know how you can fix any of it.

“You don’t mean that.”

A tear hits your bottom lip and it shocks you into speech.

“I do. I really do. He’d be a lot better for me. H--He said I was the most beautiful woman in the room tonight.” Your lip trembled, the tears flowing freely now.

He reaches for you palms up, touching gently at the fabric of your dress, but you pull yourself back more firmly against the counter. You’ve gotta get it out while you can and he can’t be touching you or you’ll just fall apart in his hands. You know yourself too well.

“Y--You are beautiful. When have I ever told you you’re not beautiful? Y/n, I love you with all of my heart, why are you doing this?”

“Could you just shut the fuck up for two seconds?!” You snapped fingers pulling anxiously at your hair.

There’s a tear drop hanging off the edge of his chin that your fingers itch to wipe away, but you can’t. Not yet.

“I know my own worth okay? I know my own worth and I know what I deserve and this isn’t it. And it is not because of your career. I--I love what you do, and it makes me so fucking happy to watch you live your dream. I don’t resent your music or your fans or the fame. I can deal with all of it, I swear I can. What I can’t deal with is coming last all of the time. It’s a show and then it’s a music video, an award show, a studio run, and now an interview? The biggest moment of my career and you can’t make it because of an interview?”

“B--But I’m here right now! I came as soon as I could! I am doing my best.”

“Yea? You’re telling me that the night you won your first grammy, if I had skipped it to meet with a client that would have been okay with you?”

He pauses and you know it makes more sense than anything else to him. That situating things in his world will help him see.

“Look none of that matters. None of it matters. Because I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love you.”

He wipes angrily at his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffles.

“What?”

“That guy at the bar? He came up to me and all that I could think about...was you. And how he wasn’t you. And how much all I wanted was for you to come home. Even though I’d spent all afternoon crying over you, I still want you. I would rather have the worst of you than the best of someone else. And that’s fucked up. And I hate that. But, it’s true.”

“So you didn’t--You’re not leaving me?”

“No. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I just want you to want to care about me, I guess. That’s all I ever wanted.”

When he reaches for you this time you let him. When he wraps his arms around you and tucks you under his chin it’s instant warmth, instant safety, and instant healing. Really all it takes is for him to be present to soothe you, and that’s all you’d been trying to say from the beginning.

Neither of you talk that night. You’re too busy holding each other in bed. He’s still in his jeans and t-shirt from the plane and you don’t even take your dress off. It’s a little hard to remember all of the pain when you’re re-familiarizing yourself with his scent. When his fingers are in your hair or drawing shapes along your spine. You know that it’s late and that you should definitely be asleep but you fight it every step of the way because finally he’s here with you and you’re not ready to give that up yet. And with your head perched against his chest listening to the rhythm of his heart and the sound of his breath, you know that he isn’t either. Somehow though, even after the different time zones and the flights, he’s going to out last you and you both know it. The last thing you remember is his lips touching your ear.

“Go to sleep. I swear to you I’ll be here when you wake up.”

His arms tightened around you and that was all it took.

When you wake up it’s because the sun is lighting up the room again. There are blown out candles everywhere and more rose petals on the bed. A headache blooms behind your eyelids and you almost forget everything that happened the night before. But when your eyes open Shawn’s still sitting there against the headboard, arms and legs crossed, like he hadn’t moved all night.

“Did you sleep?” You croaked, voice still tired from the booze and crying.

He shook his head softly. “Couldn’t.”

It takes a little bit for you to sit up. You’re body already feels old and you’re not even thirty yet as you hunch yourself into a sitting position on your knees. Your dress bunches around your thighs and the slit comes to rest dangerously high, your lace underwear sticking slightly out. In a simpler world that would’ve been Shawn’s focus. But you’re not there yet.

Shawn’s not looking at you when he speaks initially. It’s quiet, no movement in the room except for the dust motes twirling in the air. And even when he speaks the room still feels too still.

“I spent all night trying to figure out what to do.” He started. “I thought about...about what it would feel like to let you go? If that guy was truly better for you.”

You sighed. “Shawn he was just some random guy at the bar. It didn’t mean anything.”

“But it did, didn’t it? It’s not the guy, it’s about what he can offer you. What any other normal guy could offer you that I’m not. And if I loved you, if I really loved you wouldn't I give you that? Shouldn’t my main priority be to make you happy?”

He’s scaring you now. And maybe you deserve it. Maybe he’s been waiting all this time to call it quits to decide that it’s not worth it to try and meld your lives together anymore.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m not as good of a person as I thought I was. Because I can’t give you up. I don’t--I don’t want to give you up. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever loved. I can’t even imagine my life not intertwined with yours.

“Last night was the worst night of my life. To know that I haven’t shown you the love that you deserve kills me. Loving you is all I’ve ever wanted. And I’m not even doing it right.” He sighed finally turning to look at you with tears in his eyes. “Y/n I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to...I just want to deserve you.”

Your minds must be in sync because you both reach for each other at the same time. There’s crying and you’re both trying to hold each other’s faces and wipe away tears at the same time. It’s ridiculous and sappy but it’s so fucking nourishing .

“I love you.” He whimpered against your mouth. “I’m so sorry. I’m gonna make it better, I promise.”

He starts with breakfast in the kitchen. You're both still in clothes from the night before. And while your eating his scrambled eggs and toast you hear him sit in the living room and talk to Andrew for over thirty minutes to change his schedule around. You don’t realize that’s what he’s doing until you start hearing the “no’s” over and over again. When he comes back to you he nuzzles his head against yours kissing crumbs away from your lips.

“I talked to Andrew.” He explained. “I’m gonna take a few weeks off instead of promo between legs. And when the tour is finished we’re gonna sit down and re-evaluate my schedule. And I--I’d like you to be there if you want. Maybe you can bring your schedule and we can coordinate times to just be together?”

It was such a drastic shift that you just sort of stared at him for a minute, lips parted, eyes wide.

“Just us?”

He reaches for your fingers and brings them to his lips.

“Yea. Just us. I was actually gonna ask if you might want to go on a trip with me.”

“A trip to where?”

“I uh I hadn’t actually gotten that far, but I figured we could pick together.” He smiled. “Just wanna be with you for a little while.”

“Shawn,” You sighed. “You don’t have to do all of this. I don’t need the world alright? I just need you. It’s all I ever wanted.”

“Yea well, what if I wanna give you both?”

He pecked quickly at your lips and down to the crook of your neck.

“The only reason I should ever make you cry should be from cumming so hard it brings tears to your eyes. I’ve got a lot of loss time to make up for, but I’d really like to try if you’ll let me.”

You peek over at him and it’s just as well. He really is the devil in the body of a god. It’s so fucking rude.

“Yea well I’m not gonna say no to that so just fucking take me already.”

And take you he did.

TBC

taglist: @shawnieeeeboy

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2010s: 30 - 26

30. Nika Kocharov & Young Georgian Lolitaz - “Midnight Gold” Georgia 2016

When rating Eurovision entrants, it’s important to also take note of the journey, and Nika Kocharov had one of the best ever? Similarly to The Shin, everyone was just about:blank towards “Midnight gold”, not understanding the concept and ranking it last in unison. Like Shin & Mariko, I was mostly intrigued and willing to give it a chance. Unlike the Shin though, I thought “Midnight Gold” was a good song for its genre, just not one I was that entheused by. The revamp, which provided the setting of a mad scientist’s laboratory, was a step in the right direction, providing a hint of entropy, a dash of absurdity, a spark of insanity.  And then, at long last, the dénouement:

STAINS OF MUD

ON UR SKIN

THE NIGHT WILL COME

AND SO WILL SIN

Winning LIFE *and* everyone over with that <3 I don’t think ANYONE could have anticipated that “Midnight gold” would deliver a non-stop absynthe-minded ACID TRIP in Stockholm. 😍   The visuals were so ICONIC they are still setting the special effects bar in the present day. This is Sacha Jean-Baptiste’s best staging. Period. Not “Euphoria”. Not “Alter ego”. Not “Fuego”. "Midnight gold”. BY FAR. Would it be even considered a stretch to go as far as saying that “Midnight Gold” has the best staging of any Eurovision entrant to date? I don’t think it does, but it is definitely a contender. 

Who would have thought that THIS song would become one of the more memorable, epic entries of a great year such as 2016? Of course the flawless staging also made me retroactively appreciate “Midnight gold” as a song as well and I regularly give it play time whenever I can. 😍 STAINS OF MUD. 

ps: I don’t care about fashion much, but I want his hat.

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29. Naviband - “Story of my life” Belarus 2017

[2017 Review here]

HEY HEY! HAYAYAYA HO!

What superlatives can I still use for describe the pure, unshattering LIGHT that is “Historija majho zyccia”? It leaks mirth from every pore, infecting everyone around it with the irresistable urge to tap their feet along to the HEY HEY HA JA JA HO’s!

At the center of this wonderful hovercraftian masterpiece lie Artiom and Ksenia, two of the most adorable humans ever to exist, who are also a couple irl and it shows. The two have chemistry and charisma in spades, especially Ksenia who is the living embodiment of the “^__^” emoji. I am ALWAYS happy when I listen to this song and I am thrilled we got to hear it twice. 

Eurosnob contempt for happiness is a well-documented feature in this ranking, but it reached its nadir with Naviband: You see, in addition to being ‘A Happy Song’ (a term used with contempt, imagine that O_O), Naviband are also folk singers from Belarus, who -shocker- sing in Belarusian.  However, don’t be harsh on the Eurosnobs because the area of the dopamine receptors in the brain of a Naviband hater are always attached to a person who isn’t living happily ever after. Naviband is life at its best. EMBRACE IT. Like this Lithuanian frump did:

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28. Måns Zelmerlöw - “Heroes” Sweden 2015

lol I JUST spoke about “Midnight gold” having one of the best, but not the best staging. Well, that’s because “Heroes” is, in my opinion, the most visually impressive Eurovision entry of all times. 🤗  I don’t think it’s even a stretch to call it that? “Heroes” as a song is widely regarded as pretty whatever, winning due to its act. However, while I don’t necessarily disagree this is why Måns won, I feel this take very much undersells Måns. Using it at an excuse to dismiss his goodness is ridiculous.

First of all; “Heroes” IS a really, really good song. Infectuous, upbeat, irresistably positive with highly quotable lyrics (”now go sing it like a hummingbird the greatest anthem ever heard” 😍) and an earnest anti-bullying message (<3). It may not be *as* original as some of the entries ranked around it on this list, but it definitely handles its own, with and without an act.

Another defining factor in making “Heroes” a great entry is Måns himself. Måns Zelmerlöw is arguably the most attractive human to ever set a foot on a Eurovision stage. The man is irresistable even on a platonic level. He puts every other charismatic performer to shame and does it effortlessly. 

However, even with these two trump cards, the staging is indeed the best part of “Heroes”. It bears repeating that I think this is the best Eurovision act to date. Impressive visual effects, flawless choreography and impeccable camerawork elevate “Heroes” to a much higher level. It tells it story with more clarity and efficacity than any other entry I can think of. 

Ultimately, Måns staging is a testament of his goodness, and an acceptable reason for winning Eurovision. Because of “Heroes”, many countries have upped their staging game, resulting in more visually impressive entries (specifically the Sabotage Baptiste ones in 2016, and Sergey I guess), which is a positive development. Live music isn’t so much about which song you perform, but about how you perform it, and “Heroes” is the best example of that.

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27. ZiBBZ - “Stones” Switzerland 2018

[2018 Review Here]

WILD JOKAH ON A GOLD THRONE

Here we are again, our annual appointment with everyone’s favourite sibling alliance. 😍 “Stones” is powerful kick-ass diamond of indie-rock and a serious contender for my favourite Swiss entry of all time. 

The song is a masterclass in mental health awareness and  self-empowerment, dismantling bullying and depression with perfectly timed percussion and AHUMs, truth-bombing lyrics and an insanely charismatic lead who sounds like Joss Stone on five packs a day. 😍 It’s catchier than ebola, more addictive than sugar and soars higher than a kite. 

In addition to all of that jazz, “Stones” is also responsible for some of the most iconic visuals in 2018:

God the shot of Coco with the flare still sends shivers down my spine. WHAT A CRUSADER OF THE DOWNTRODDEN. 😍 Whenever I’m feeling down, this is the song that lifts me back up again. 

Really, the only thing not good about ZiBBZ was the camerawork and that wasn’t their fault. FY Hans Pancake. 🙄 If ever there were a robbed NQ who deserves a Genovaesque return, it’s the Zibblings. BRING THEM BACK!!! 

________________________________________________________________

26. Paula Seling & Ovi - “Playing with fire” Romania 2010

Speaking of highly addictive songs, holy cow Ovi I need rehab for that beat alone because I CANNOT get it out of my head.

Anyway, who else would be the #1 for Romania if not for Paula Seling and Ovi? “Miracle” was a beautiful example of tacky taste, but “Playing with fire”, man, :takes a sip of gin:, now that is the real stuff. 

I’ll start, I guess, where I’ve begun my write-up which is the composition: “Playing with fire” has one of the best underlying beats in this decade, which gives it infinite replayability. Layered on top of that is some delightfully aggressive piano (😍), on top of THAT some amazingly playful lyrics (”BOY BOY BOY If we’re mean, i would start a fight tonight” songs about playfighting <3) and on top of THAT, Paula Seling. Paula is the STAR of this performance, stealing the show every time she’s shown with deliciously flirtatious facial expressions

and some vocal masturbation in the guise of a dolphin impersonation.

 She and Ovi and ignite the place with both insane pyrotechnics and spontaneous chemistry. So fun, SO GOOD, so dynamic especially for an act where the main singers sit down in front of a double-headed plexiglass piano (😍). Duncan Laurence DEAD in a motherfucking DITCH. 

And with this update we have eliminated FIVE countries. Check their reviews below:

GEORGIA

Georgia is such a bizarre Eurovision country, often churning out absolutely BONKERS entries that leave Europe stunned in silence. <3 It may not be reflected in their vital statistics but I always look forward for what they have on offer because even in the rare case of them being boring, they are always interesting. 

BELARUS

Belarus was one of the worst countries in the 00s, but in the 2010s they’ve evolved into a bargain bin Moldova, which makes them solidly good. It’s really astounding that a country SO GOOD at being entertaining gets dismissed so easily because of their flag (and dictatorship (and gay rights)). They’re mostly good and 100% worthy of our time, tyvm!!

SWEDEN

The worst part of Sweden’s success streak is that it made them conceited and lazy. They no longer need to be innovative, creative or entertaining in order to get a top five position and worse, they are fully aware of it. This resulted in a marked drop in quality and if they don’t curb their hubris quickly, I predict it will soon come back to bite them. (ie: another NQ)

SWITZERLAND

B A S  I C. Zibbz and Luca did a lot of the heavy lifting here, which caused Switz to mathematically outrank Sweden, and while that’s hilarious it also feels absurd and wrong. Don’t be fooled by all that green though. Switzerland are basic bitches and have no idea what to do in order to be cool. 

ROMANIA

Romania are one of the better hit-or-miss countries in Eurovision, imo even if the chart doesn’t fully reflect it. The problem I have with them is that their entries don’t have a long shelf life. Like, the Cezars and Ilincae of this world grow stale very quickly because they’re exhausting and shallow. Having said that, this is by far preferable over being consistently boring (UK) or violently oscillating between great and demonic entries (Germany, Demark). 

[cs0127]

A detailed review of the OnePlus 7T from :wired:

I TEST A lot of phones here at WIRED. Smartphones incrementally change each year, and they’ve become more of an essential utility and less of a source of the tech world’s greatest innovations. I often appreciate their new features, but few of those enhancements spark actual joy. The OnePlus 7T, however, has done just that. Putting down the glossy, fingerprint-plastered Galaxy Note10 to review the matte glass 7T was both a relief and a reminder why OnePlus has continued to gain popularity as a smartphone brand year after year.

Like the company's previous devices, the 7T is a phone that showcases much of the best smartphone tech introduced in 2019 at a $600 price—more than $100 cheaper than many top rivals from Samsung, LG, and other manufacturers. What I’ve come to appreciate more is how it uses all that latest tech to enhance my life, often by getting out of my way. Its touch interface is simple and looks just like the brand new Google Android 10 OS it runs on, only a little easier to navigate. It’s just more pleasant, like a PB&J sandwich where mom cut the crust off just because she loves you.

Smooth and Frosty

If you’ve seen an expensive smartphone in the last two years, you know what the 7T looks and feels like, but I’ll describe it anyway. It has a 6.5-inch AMOLED display (that means deeper blacks and richer colors) that takes up its entire front. A teenie teardrop cutout hanging from the top of the screen holds a 16-megapixel selfie camera.

Like the similar and more expensive OnePlus 7 Pro, this display has a 90 Hz refresh rate, which makes the entire interface noticeably smoother. OnePlus calls it a Fluid AMOLED display, and it may live up to that name. Phones have been bumping up the resolution (this one has a 1080p HD screen), but the bump in refresh rate is more noticeable. Everything feels smoother and faster, with richer color than many displays.

The power and volume buttons are in all the right places, and OnePlus has kept its sound/mute/vibrate switch on the right side. It’s a dead-simple little toggle and worth every millimeter of its cutout, letting you easily silence your phone or perk it up anytime.

OnePlus was one of the first companies to introduce an in-display fingerprint sensor, and the latest iteration on this phone is faster than ever. I’ve had trouble with Samsung's on-screen sensors in the Galaxy S10 and Note10, but the optical fingerprint reader in the 7T does the trick in a way that’s more convenient than the fingerprint sensors on the back of many phones like the Google Pixel 3A.

The phone's frame is metal, and the back is covered in shimmering Gorilla Glass because ... well ... trends. It’s silly that the back is made of glass at all, given that we probably drop our phones more than anything besides our keys, and there's no big advantage to the glass here since the 7T doesn’t have wireless charging. But the “glacier blue” color certainly is sleek, and the frosted texture repels fingerprints better than some phones. OnePlus thankfully includes a clear case in the box. I suggest you slip it on.

All Spec’d Out

Between all that glass is a list of luxury technical specs. The 7T runs on a Qualcomm Snapdragon 855+ processor, which is half a tad speedier than the 855 on some earlier phones this year. It also comes with 8 gigabytes of RAM, and 128 GB of storage. (Sorry, no MicroSD slot; that’s all you get.) These are all fantastic numbers, as are the numbers you’ll see from benchmark performance tests. It’s a powerful phone, right up there with the best.

OnePlus doesn’t make a lot of changes to Android 10, but the changes it does make seem to (mostly) improve the phone's performance. You can more easily swipe up or down from anywhere on the homescreen to access the notification shade or pull up your entire list of apps. I also like the gesture controls that mimic recent iPhones, and the option to turn the back button into a swipe from the left side of the phone has worked well for me. Your mileage may vary, but you can disable these gestures controls and go back to a traditional back-button setup if you like.

The fact that the 7T even has the latest Google OS is a testament to the company’s focus on delivering software and security updates. It promises two years of updates for buyers of the 7T, and has demonstrated a positive track record on updates for older phones. This is notable—despite costing close to $1,000, most Android phones outside of Google’s Pixel line and Motorola's handsets do not get regular software updates, leaving security vulnerabilities exposed and new features out of reach.

With stereo speakers and a gaming mode that optimizes graphics (and can also restrict notifications and calls so you can play without interruption), this is an ideal machine for playing Mario Kart Tour, or any other high-end title, until your eyeballs fall out. Netflix looks lovely, as well.

I’ve ended most days having spent four or five hours with the screen active, and seen about 50 percent battery remaining. A few nights, it’s been closer to 30 to 40 percent, if I stay up late. This is good, but somewhat normal battery life. If you want to improve your power efficiency, you can turn the 90 Hz refresh rate down to a more normal 60 Hz. In a pinch, the included charger is very quick. It can juice the 7T up significantly in a half hour.

Sadly, like many high-end phones, there’s no audio jack (and no adapter in the box), but OnePlus sells an adapter for $13. And this phone also isn’t IP-rated for water resistance. OnePlus claims it will handle some rain pretty well, but you won’t want to drop it in the tub.

Ready to Zoom

When it comes to smartphones, you ain’t cool unless you have three rear cameras these days, and OnePlus always wants to be cool. Like the 7 Pro, it has a 48-megapixel standard rear shooter that outputs extra sharp 12-megapixel images, a 16-megapixel sensor beneath an ultrawide lens, and a 12-megapixel telephoto. This lets you take shots that you can both zoom out a bit, and zoom in to 2X. There’s also a portrait mode, which adds a bokeh effect, the shallow depth-of-field trick that keeps the subject in focus but blurs the background in a close-up photo.

I had a great time shooting plenty of outdoor shots around Tulsa, Oklahoma, in the past week, and I've even enjoyed the extra stability of the Super Stable video mode, which uses the wide angle lens to better stabilize 1080p video; 4K 30 fps video is also available. Everything looks good, especially shots in the Nightscape mode. Like the new iPhone 11 and the latest Pixel phones, the 7T enhances night shots, adding more light, color and detail to areas that would have just appeared as black splotches on older phones. Night shots require a steady hand and a second or two wait, but they are a definite improvement.

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In some of the above shots, you can see some examples of Nightscape mode and Super Macro mode. If you press the flower icon in the upper left side of the camera app, you can move in closer to small objects and still see them stay in focus. The effect isn’t perfect, but I was able to get closer to some plants and ants than I ever have before using a smartphone. It’s a blast to play around with modes like these, and they solidify the OnePlus 7T as a phone for shutterbugs.

Plus One

OnePlus isn’t tampering with the formula that got it to the dance, and that’s good. The 7T is one of the most powerful phones you can buy, and it costs hundreds less than its peers. It also runs on all four major US carriers, and T-Mobile sells it directly.

I've recommended the Pixel 3A ($400) as the best phone to buy for a few months now, and given the performance it offers for the price, for many of you it still is the best phone. But if you are willing to spend an extra $200, the OnePlus 7T will give you a taste of the luxuries you’d otherwise miss out on.

Correction: I referred to the display as a "Liquid" display. OnePlus calls it a "Fluid" display.

you can check out all Amazon has to offer in the One Plus lineup at:(https://amzn.to/35H33nU)

[lauraells]

So, I decided to write the fic myself

I mean, it was half written anyways

You’re thirty-three when you shoot yourself in the head on the rooftop of St. Bart’s hospital. You’ve been holding London by the balls for almost ten years. Rich Brook may have been the (temporary) downfall of Sherlock Holmes, but he did more damage than you anticipated.

Seb has been picking up the slack over the last two years. He thinks that you can’t see the consequences of your obsession, but Seb can be so annoyingly human sometimes. You see everything. It was always going to end like this. But you didn’t anticipate the effect it would have on Seb. He’s surprised you again. Despite everything, he still loves you. He can be so annoyingly human sometimes.

The story can’t pick up again for another five years. You need to distance yourself from your kingdom. The stories of your reign need time to become legends. And you just know Seb is going to hold a grudge about this, he always did have trouble seeing the whole picture.

So, you have five years to spare. Five years to disappear into somebody else, somebody less. It’s all planned out, you’re going to Allen Hall. Maybe you should leave London, but people are so boring and this is the last place they’ll look for you. Seb won’t want to stick around and someone needs to keep an eye of things. Even if it is the distant eye of a broken man determined to change his life by going to seminary and becoming a priest. That really is the last place anyone would look for you.

You enter seminary and it quickly becomes a bit of a game. You’re thirty-three, older than the other prospective priests but you’re used to being an outsider. So, you push boundaries. You never paid them any mind before, why should you start now? You swear more than is acceptable, you talk about your alcoholic parents, you even make up a pedophile brother. (Seb would love that one. You’ll have to tell him about the silence that follows whenever you drop that tidbit). But like all games, you grow weary of this one. Everyone is so fucking predictable. You wish you could just sleep through the next five years.

At long last you're ordained. You do your six months as a deacon and every day you contemplate stabbing the priest in the face. He’s an old fucker. Probably wouldn’t live much longer even if you weren’t there to speed things along with a touch of aconite. He had a weak heart an no one questions the heart attack he suffers the week before your parish assignment comes through. Asking you to take over is only logical.

Things get a bit more interesting after that. Pam really keeps you on your toes, she’s always there when you turn around – you contemplate getting a little bell for her to wear around her neck. The parishioners are a bit of fun. You revisit your game from seminary – push boundaries just to see how far you can push them. And then this batty woman comes and ask you to be the priest at her wedding to the father of her godchildren. You leap at the chance to join them for dinner and that’s when you meet her. There’s something just a bit...off with her. She’s resonating at a different frequency than everyone else – an outsider, like you but not like you.

When you meet her at the restaurant she asks if you’re a real priest; she surprises you. You can count on one finger the number of people who have done that. Yes, you say, I’m a real priest. But, darling, you doesn’t say, I’m so much more.

She’s good, but no one is as good at wearing a mask as you. You read her easily, unconsciously, the mask falling away as if it were never there. There’s so much grief and fear and guilt and loneliness – it’s intoxicating. The chaos she brings would be a work of art, were it intentional. You want to harness it, own it, teach her to wield it like a knife. But that won’t work. She doesn’t mean for any of it to happen – it’s her sister who had the miscarriage, obviously, and the ensuing violence simply the result of sisterly affection. But, God, who gives someone a voucher for counseling? (That’s another thing you’ll have to tell Seb about – that list is starting to get long.)

There are these moments when she slips away. You don’t know where she goes, don’t see the destination. That intrigues you more than it should. It’s more of a testament about your life these last few years than it is of her. But where is she going? It infuriates you that you can’t figure it out.

You have time, and you know how this ends, but everyone else is so very boring; you don’t care that she’ll be just as boring afterwards. You’re exile is nearly over and you’ve missed making the world dance for you. She falls for you easily, so ready to believe how vulnerable and how human you are. It’s so predictable and so beautiful and so fun – the most fun you’ve had since before the trial. (Before you began to lose yourself in Rich Brook and before you began distancing yourself from Seb.) You know how this ends, but why shouldn’t you have your fun?

You’re not going to have sex, you tell her in the back garden, drinking those disgusting canned G&Ts from M&S. That’s a lie, but you almost wish it weren’t. You don’t really like sex – this stint as a priest is hardly your first go at celibacy. Seb is the exception, of course, but that has more to do with Seb than you. And if there is anyone to blame for this mess, it’s Seb. You find yourself furious at him for turning you into such a romantic idiot. You’re Jim Moriarty – you don’t love, you own. But you’re not Jim Moriarty – Jim died almost five years ago and it’s not yet time for him to return. Right now, you’re the broken priest with the broken girl falling in love with you. It’s as hilarious as it is annoying.

And maybe it’s out of spite, or maybe it’s out of boredom, but you’re starting to get a bit tired of this charade. You pry a bit too much, pick at the wounds she tries so hard to hide, and kicks you out of her little cafe. It won’t last, you know, and it doesn’t. She’s runs back to you later the same night. You act the tipsy fool and convince her to bare her soul to you in the confessional. You tell her to kneel and for a second, you’re Jim Moriarty again – back on your throne with genuflecting subjects before you. You revel in her discomfort and to stop yourself from laughing you kneel down and kiss her. It really is luck that brings the painting crashing down to the ground.

You fuck her a few nights later. It’s not your worst sexual experience, but she’s not Seb. She’s suffocates you with her emotions and you’re honestly surprised you can even perform under these conditions. She’s stopped slipping away quite as much when she’s with you. And isn’t that interesting? And just a tiny bit disappointing?

You notice it at the wedding – she’s still out of step with everyone around her, but it’s a bit less obvious now. And you knew this would happen, but still, your so disappointed. She’s so ordinary now.

You leave, pretend to be all heartbroken about it, pretend to love her. You even manage to shed a few tears. But you have an empire to reclaim, a right hand to whip into shape, and a pair of brothers to destroy once and for all.

You leave, because that’s what people do.

[mashitandsmashit]

America’s Got Talent: Season 14 - Auditions 4

Terry’s really establishing his presence on the show now! It’s early to call, but he might go on to be the best host of this show to date!

He’s making such an impression that a man played the flute AND stripped! It’s like he came SPECIFICALLY with the intention of baiting the host to join him and combine his two most well-known talents!

Anyway, enough about the obligatory weekly joke act, because boy do we have quite a few quality acts to talk about for THIS week!

10: Ansley Burns. Once again, the bottom entry is a generally solid singer...But she’s pretty much more or less at the same level of Angelica Hale (right down to having the same monkey ears!) I guess give her props for performing an upbeat and fun song, not to mention an Aretha song that ISN’T “Natural Woman”! (She’s allowed to be remembered for other songs! GRAMMYS!!!) I suppose I could complain about Simon doing that “Stop! Redo!“ thing again, but I think he had a good enough excuse this time, as the track WAS drowning her out, and it’s not like he made her perform a different song...It’s just that we’ve seen dozens of young girls sing at this level on the show by now, and in an ideal world, that girl from last week (who was ALSO infatuated with Simon) will outlast this one...

9: Dominguez Poodles. I will admit, when I watched the preview videos for this episode, I wasn’t exactly optimistic since they usually preview some of the highlights, and neither of the two acts previewed really excited me...But they ended up being the bottom two entries of this list anyway, and I certainly didn’t dislike either of them...It’s just that aside from putting the little girl in that cute little costume, this didn’t do anything that I haven’t seen from every other dog act to date...Extra points off for the dab! But maybe they’ll find something new with this act for future performances...I just stifled a laugh...

8: Cirque de Sewer. Yup...I’m putting the rat act over the dog act...What of it!? It’s mostly an amusing little party act, but it entertained me...And I guess pervs got a good look at the lady’s underpants as the rat crawled across them, something that would evoke a blood-curdling scream from most women if it was them in her place, so extra points for that...(Perhaps the rat SHOULD be named Hentai as some Youtube commenters mistook to hearing...)

7: Sos. So...did he steal his name from his dad, or is he Sos Junior or something? I’m confused...Anyway, while he does already have more to offer than his parents ever did, I was mostly pretty bored with the performance...Nothing super surprising or anything...Maybe he will improve in later rounds, but for now, it felt generic and kinda empty...

6: Detroit Youth Choir. I suppose this is the weakest Golden Buzzer of a host since the stripping grandma, but I’ll let Terry have this one since they clearly hit the big guy in the feels...(All I could think of is this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MsAyiElQKtM) Choirs are a hard sell for me, but when they manage to be entertaining enough, they can stand out...In terms of entertainment, I’d place this performance as weaker than Angel City Chorale’s first two performances last year, but stronger than their later two...While I definitely would have preferred someone else...Meh, I’ll take them! (PS, that wide-eyed kid peeking in from the back killed me!)

5: Voices of Service. Everything about this act just screams, “GIVE US A GOLDEN BUZZER!!!” Perhaps they will get it at the Judge Cuts...In fact, I won’t be surprised if they intentionally schedule them for the one where Brad Paisley’s the guest judge...But I do really like their harmonies, and the token female alone just commands the stage! Honestly...I’m kinda rooting for them! Sure it’s pandering like nobody’s business, but they’re talented enough that they can kinda get away with it...

4: Andy Rowell. Well, I think it’s pretty obvious that this man takes a lot of inspiration from a certain other late comedian named Andy, and while this may not even approach the brilliance that is the “Mighty Mouse” routine, it was still great seeing someone recapture the spirit of it! (What next? Is he gonna impersonate Elvis? Wrestle women? Spend five minutes on stage eating ice cream?) But like that comedic contortionist from a few weeks back, he will probably end up being pigeonholed as “The Karaoke Guy”, no matter how funny his later performances are, and it will probably hurt him in the long run...Still, this is an audition I will remember, and on a less excellent night, would easily make the Top 2 or 3...

3: ADEM Dance Crew. Ranking the Top 3 of this episode will not be easy, as they are all VERY close together and are among my favorite auditions of the season so far! I’m almost inclined to tie them all! But I guess at the end of the day, this was, by a VERY tiny margin, the least unique of the bunch...Saying that about a bunch of dudes dressed like bootleg “Mortal Kombat” characters is a testament to the two acts that beat them...But the body-popping was at a whole new level from what I’ve seen in the past, and how Not-Sub-Zero managed to keep himself in that position in the end is insane! If it was a lesser man, it would FINISH HIM! This whole performance was a FLAWLESS VICTORY! And like Julie said, they slayed everyone! FATALITY!!!

2: Berywam. I just didn’t want this to stop! Just listening to these guys makes me want to get up and dance with them! As much as I love Pentatonix, they got NOTHING on this group!

1: Marcin Patrzalek. Here’s one pretty-boy with acoustic guitar who I want to go all the way in this game! And as long as he has both the horny ladies AND variety voters backing him, he could very well do so! One of my favorite talents on this show is taking a rather mundane instrument and doing something extreme and different with it, and that is exactly what he did with an instrument usually associated with the most trite and boring AGT contestants...This might be my favorite act of the season so far!

Now THIS was a show! Hands down the best of the season so far!

It looks like next week will be the final audition, so we’ll just see what kind of act Julie picks to stamp her endorsement all over throughout the season...I might already have an idea what form this act will come in (as may you if you’ve watched the early promos), though I don’t know yet what the talent is...But they’re hyping it up quite a bit, and I even remember Howie saying somewhere that one of the GBs will make your jaw drop...None of the other ones so far have exactly done that, so I’m preparing for something crazy...

Kodi Lee’s still looking like the star player of this season so far (which translates to biggest front-runner), but we’ll see if that changes next week...