#as if i haven’t been in the trenches since month one of dai’s release when all the world was still starry eyed over Cullen

[brekkie-e]

Hey so, while I can agree that varric is nice, not all of us want to fuck him? Some of us, while it's gut wrenching, do actually love the solas romance.

The post was a joke.

Though. This one’s hard to let slide. You see, I have a crippling case of what is in these here parts referred to as lesbianism. So to tell you the truth, dear. I don’t want to fuck either of them. But I apologize for making a post that was not catered specifically to you.

I don’t even think I implied that I, myself, would romance him were he an option. Simply that it would be one of the most popular ones if it were available to players.

That being said, the fun of these games is to make characters and tell their story. So, personally, I rarely pick my character’s romance based off whom I myself would personally be dtf for.

I stand by my statement though. If Varric could fuck, we wouldn’t be in this situation. We wouldn’t be in a lot of situations. Maybe BioWare wouldn’t be an on fire dumpster.

[krabmeat]

I have not written anything in some time - since I took a break from my writing account, actually (now deleted) - so cut me some slack here. I’m gonna format this in the same way that I did my old fics for that jolt of serotonin. So, if you would be so kind to indulge me, this is how I (niceimafan) would have submitted this work on fandoesfictionwriting:

What War Does || (platonic) Father Figure c!Phil x Teen gn!Reader

A/N: This is my submission for the 100 follower milestone of the lovely @/krabmeat! Krabs (Damien today) is an amazing friend of mine and is quite possibly the best human being in the world. (Go follow him if you haven’t already!)

War struggles paired with the classic familial miscommunication, what could be better as a way for me to get back into writing? This takes place around the time of Doomsday, or the final battle/destruction. Also I can’t remember if Wilbur’s room was still there at the time of Doomsday because I have goldfish memory so pretend it was if it wasn’t.

Requested: No

{Word Count: 1,946}

CW: intense arguing, mentions of war, mentions of death, cursing (up to the f-word), caps, use of godforsaken (I don’t know if people get triggered by that? I’m not religious so I wouldn’t know), very brief mention of spit, less than great relationship with father

This is an xreader fic!

This has been proofread. (skimmed rip I don’t like reading my writing)

- In which Y/N and Phil argue about Y/N and their right to participate in Doomsday. -

Phil works away high in the sky, loading cannons with enough TNT to detonate a nation. He, Techno, and Dream have everything planned out; you know because they did all of the planning right in front of you. Meaning you know everything they are going to do, and you aren’t even allowed to be involved.

You avert your eyes from your father and pick mindlessly at some grass instead, feeling the cold breeze of afternoon cool your flaming temper. For a moment, it appears as though everything might be fine, like you could get over this and let the Big War Men do their thing. But then Phil’s boots appear in front of you, and it’s all ruined again.

“You look miserable,” he says. Phil finishes his sentence with an airy laugh, trying to convey that he’s trying to joke with you. And so you make sure that the gaze you shoot him ensures he understands you do not find him humorous. Phil sighs, taking a seat beside you.

“Look, I understand that you want to help. I do! But I also understand that people with a spirit as strong as yours have risen to unimaginable heights, only to crash back down onto the blade of loss. And I fear that you will be no different.” Phil places his hand on your shoulder. “I just want you to be safe.”

You shrug him off, turning your neck so fast to glare at him it leaves a sharp stinging sensation in your movement’s wake. “Safe? You want me to be safe? No one is safe here, and you know that.”

“Y/N, you know-”

“What, Phil? What do I know? Because according to you, it doesn’t seem like a lot.” You stand after that, stomping off in an attempt to clear your mind, hoping Phil won’t follow you. But, of course, he does.

“Y/N, wait.” He shouts, but he makes no move to speed up or stop you. He simply follows along at a distance, saying nothing else. Probably waiting for you to make the first move. But you refuse, you refuse to let him win this and watch you break again.

And so the two of you walk in silence, you with no destination in mind and Phil’s footsteps echoing yours calmly in the distance. All you can do is follow your feet to wherever they find fit for this argument to play out.

To your amusement, you find yourself in Wilbur’s old room. Where he blew up his dreams for the first time and where Phil took the life of his son. How fitting.

You finally come to a stop, taking a brief moment to collect yourself, before spinning around on your heel to address your father. “Ph- Phil?” It does shock you to find that Phil isn’t there. He’s not standing behind you with a small, comforting smile, or with his eyebrows pinched together in a way that lets you know you’re going to be scolded. Nothing.

“You dress like him, you know.” Phil says from behind you. You whirl around again, reaching for your sword on instinct. Phil stands with his hands clasped behind his back, staring out over the soon-to-be battlegrounds.

“What?” It feels like you’ve lost all air in your lungs. Phil doesn’t just say things like that, especially not to you. And of course you know who he’s talking about; Techno doesn’t wear tattered trench coats and Tommy hasn't adorned ripped up fingerless gloves to protect from burns, to your knowledge. But speaking of Wilbur when referring to another child of his in this room in particular hit you in a place you have not yet built walls in.

“Wilbur. You dress like him.” Phil turns around, and you finally see that his eyes are watering. But he still has that sympathetic smile plastered on his face. “Every day, you remind me of him. And in doing so, you remind me that I can not let you turn out the way that Will did.

“Wilbur was changed by war. He destroyed everything he worked for because of it. And for that to happen to you, with such grand dreams and ideas, it would be heartbreaking.” Phil can’t maintain eye contact with you anymore, “I just want you to be everything that Wilbur couldn’t have been.”

You let his words sink in, and as they do, you begin to fight with yourself.

He just wants to help you!

How, by comparing me to his dead son? Yeah, something about that doesn’t feel right.

Just hear him out.

You grit your teeth, balling up and releasing your fingers into and out of fists. “I am not Wilbur.”

Phil shakes his head, rubbing the place where his eyebrows crease together. “I know that, and that’s not what I’m trying to sa-”

“Yes, that is exactly what you just said!” You begin to raise your voice, getting tired of this stupid game you two are playing with each other. Lying about what you’re really talking about to try and avoid the inevitable. “You just compared me to your dead son that went crazy and blew up everyone’s homes! The one that sold drugs out of a damn hot dog van!”

The air around you seemed to heat up as tensions between you two started to rise, Phil clearly getting more angry as well. “You are not Wilbur, but you are my child!”

“Oh, am I? Am I, Philza? And how long have I been your child for, huh? My whole life, a year, a few months, just this past hour? You have been trying and failing to be my father figure because you just see me as some rogue that could get too far out of control unless you’re there. Isn’t that right?”

“No, of course not. I just-”

“No! How could I have not realized? You just want a replacement! Someone to fill the hole that was left in your poor old heart when you stabbed your son through the chest.”

“I love you, Y/N, you don’t understand! You are like a child to me, you always have been! From the moment that I met you, I saw greatness in you. I swear, you mean more to me than just some replacement for Wilbur.”

Tears burn your eyes, the singular one that fell leaving a streak through the gunpowder and dirt smudged on your cheeks. You shake your head and scoff, unable to believe that this is the conversation you are currently stuck in. “Phil, that’s the kind of bullshit that you have to tell yourself in order to sleep at night. But guess what? It doesn’t work on me.”

“It doesn’t have to ‘work on you’, it’s just the truth, Y/N. I don’t know how I can get you to believe me.”

“You can’t, Phil.” You say, trying to ignore the way your voice cracks. “Because I have believed people, and then those people have either died, or tried to kill me, or both. So you know what I did? I grew up, Phil. Because THAT is what war does. 

“It doesn’t make you write sad song lyrics on the walls, it doesn’t make you love your father figure oh so dearly, all it does is make you realize that there is more in this world to deal with than whatever any one person can do. And once you wrap your head around that, you realize that the best you can do is make the smallest of dents, and hope some other people do the same. That is how this world works, Phil.

“And do you know what my dent is going to be?” Phil has blurred by now. Once you blink the tears away, you can see that he’s crying too. Good. Now you’re really on the same page. “Blowing up this godforsaken nation once and for all.”

You turn to walk away again, hopefully for the last time, but Phil actually makes a move to stop you before you can get anywhere. “Y/N, I refuse to allow you to go out there and risk your life for a war already fought.”

“No war is already fought until people are dead.” You snap at him, resisting the urge to spit on his boots. “Besides, I can handle myself, I don’t need you to tell me who I can and can’t fight.”

“Y/N, I am your father!” Phil’s voice practically echoes through the entire SMP as he shouts at you, finally just as mad as you wanted him to be. You’re convinced people on the other side of L’Manberg can hear you two arguing. “Listen to me, you can not risk this.”

“YOU ARE NO FATHER TO ME!” You scream, getting your face as close to Phil’s as possible while still being able to look into both of his eyes. Phil’s eyes widen, whether in pain, shock, or both, you don’t know, but he quickly recovers with a stare solid enough to cut through stone. 

“Do NOT turn this argument to family matters when we are discussing life and death!”

“This is no longer a discussion, dad,” you make sure to add as much venom to the name as possible, “We are not talking this out like a father scolds his young kid about what they can and can not touch in the house. We are screaming, and shouting, and ruining relationships like adults.” You try one more time to walk out. This time you make it down to the ground floor, but Phil follows you yet again, stopping you before you can reach the Prime Path. 

“You aren’t an adult, though.” Phil’s voice is softer now, he sounds like he’s on the verge of defeat. “You’re still a kid. You shouldn’t have to deal with all of this.” 

“I was made an adult because of this damn war over some stupid place, I should be able to fight for it’s destruction like one.” You also stop shouting, but you don’t soften your voice. You keep it as firm as it can be despite your wobbly crying, letting Phil know that you are no longer playing games with him like you used to.

“I know that you could. I do. But that does not mean that you should.”

“Awwe, you really think so?” You feign a high-pitched voice, even clasping your hands together under your chin. “You honestly think that I can handle something more than a boo-boo, huh?”

“You know that I am making no attempt to infantilize you, Y/N. If you’re such an adult, you need to grow up. I do believe that you could fight for us, but I do not see it as wise.”

“Bullshit,” you say again, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. Phil tries to speak again, but you cut him off. “No. No! No, I don’t want you to tell me over and over about what I can and can’t do. About how you think I could be a good ally to you. I already know that, because I can make my own decisions. 

“Do you know what I do want, Philza? I bet that’s something that your infinitely wise mind can’t think of. All that I want, all that I have wanted for the past SIX. FUCKING. YEARS. Is for you to just take me seriously for once in your damn life!”

Philza stands there in silence, seemingly dumbfounded, and you take this as your chance to stomp off for good. But you know full well that you’ll see Phil tomorrow. On the battlefield.

But you won’t be fighting for him, or Tommy, or Wilbur, or any of them. Tomorrow, you fight for yourself, and you win for yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DUDE WHAT?!?!?! INK THIS IS IMMACULATE HOW IN THE- WHAT THE F-CK THE WAY YOU CAPTURE THE ANGER AND FEELINGS AND HESITATION OF THE ARGUMENT IS SO WELL DONE!! AND THE FLOW OF TRANSITIONING FROM ONE SETTING TO ANOTHER ISNT CLUMPY OR FORCED AT ALL, THIS IS ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL INK! AND THE BUILDUP TO THE QUOTE, THE WAY YOU REALLY EMBODY ALL OF THE CHARACTERS IS SO MASTERFULLY DONE DEAR, AMAZING JOB!!!

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: Elizabeth Olsen’s 20/21 Vision

The Marvel star takes us inside her transformation to a new kind of hero

GALLERY LINKS

Studio Photoshoots > 2021 > Session 002

Magazine Scans > 2021 > Grazia

  GRAZIA: Elizabeth Olsen is a trooper. We are in a field in Surrey on the outskirts of the Marvel studios; it’s a biting minus one and she is standing in a Chanel broderie anglaise sundress and increasingly soggy UGG boots. Her feline cheekbones face skywards, but Olsen is slowly sinking into the mud, trilling out high notes to keep herself warm (possibly distracted) and of course with spirits high. “It was the wind I think, that was worse than the sideways rain,” she jokes as we trundle back to the soundstage hangar that we are using as a studio. It’s the kind of moment that could go viral on Instagram, that is, if Olsen were on social media. Yet one of the biggest stars of our current cultural moment is completely offline – and that surprising fact might just be the least interesting thing about her. If anything, it is a sign of how Olsen has come into her own as a confident, decisive star with the power to create her own universe.

On the cusp of her 32nd birthday, Olsen is fastidious and professional, yes, but also bright, engaging, creative, and collaborative. Born and raised in the California sunshine, she is surprisingly at ease in the blustery conditions that deluge the English countryside in late January – or, it’s that she’s very good at acting. “It was one of the ugliest days of this winter – just hilarious – but I knew we wanted the shot,” the 31-year-old actress says.

Since October, Olsen’s been living in the leafy British countryside with her “man-guy-partner,” musician Robbie Arnett, just a short drive to the Surrey compound where Doctor Strange is being filmed. It’s a closed set, masked in secrecy as much as the socially distanced masked crew dotted all over the 200-acre studio. “It feels right being in a small city right now,” she says.

Indeed, Olsen is a modern-day Renaissance woman. Learned and dedicated to her craft, she studied at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, with a semester at the Moscow Art Theatre School studying Stanislavski. (Surely, no matter how much of a genius the Russian theatre master was, he never could have conceived of the Marvel universe.)

Approached with the concept of WandaVision, “I thought it was perfect for television, and a very original idea that made me excited,” Olsen says. Also, she was happy she would get to work with Bettany again: “He’s very precise, like me.”

In many ways, WandaVision is a love letter to the first American television heyday. Olsen, who stayed up late watching Nick at Nite reruns as a child, says it’s a bit of a homecoming in that way. “I was a very hammy, performative child,” she explains. “So, I do think I got to live out some sort of childhood dream doing the show.”

“The highlight was really getting to tell a story about these superhero individuals told in different decades of American sitcoms, trying to match the tone of those sitcoms in order to help orate the story,” she says. “But keep it playful and fun.” Little did she know just how much we’d need that.

Half-filmed pre-pandemic in Atlanta and half post-pandemic in LA – with a six-month hiatus in-between “until all the unions figured out to work safely” – WandaVision was released almost a year into the pandemic. In many ways, it is an artifact of its time: centered upon a yearning for the simplicity of earlier days, yet shot through with the creeping realization that such days may never return, and perhaps never existed to begin with.

Indeed, the weekly story of suburban superheroes Wanda and Vision has played out like a parable of our times: Wanda living in her chosen bubble, her trauma resonating in the world we find ourselves in today. Olsen appreciates a good metaphor, but feels people may be projecting a bit much. “I see Wanda as a victim of extreme trauma, who does not understand how to process it,” she explains. “She has been a human experiment.” (Not to belabor the point, but haven’t we all?)

Being summoned by Marvel is like being called to a parallel universe for an actor: thrilling, yes, but not without a tinge of terror and a dash of the unknown. Six years in, though, it’s become like family in some ways. As a member of two dynasties – Olsen and Marvel – family is key to Olsen. She checks in on her mom (who still lives in California) and, like many American daughters, is researching which vaccine mom should get.

The performative gene runs strong through her family, of course – and no, we don’t mean her sisters. Olsen’s mom was a ballerina. Still, when she first started auditioning, Olsen took special care to carve her own path – one far from Full House. “Nepotism is a thing and I’m very aware of it,” she says. “And of course, I’ve always wanted to do it alone.” She did just that, her acting credentials consistently rising as her sister’s cemented their fashion kudos. Olsen bears a noticeable resemblance to her fashion-designer older sisters and her sartorial DNA is similarly low-key. She loves The Row (of course) and NYC label Khaite’s denim and cashmere.

For Olsen, her day job is like playing dress-up. This time around, she walked away from WandaVision with the girdle worn underneath her 50s wedding dress, laughing, “I mean, to have a custom undergarment like that, I felt like it was necessary!” Her WandaVision co-star, Kathryn Hahn, also became her shopping cohort when filming.

“She’s dangerous!” Olsen says. “She has the most exquisite, minimal but expensive taste.” It was Hahn who led Olsen to the independent boutique where she found the belted Julia Jentzsch trench that she wore to our shoot.

At the rail of samples compiled by the stylist, Olsen gravitates towards a spacious linen boilersuit and longline cashmere cardigan. Has she always been a tomboy, I ask? “I think I felt uncomfortable being a child being told they were pretty,” she says of her early auditions at age 10, adding that her love of ballet and musical theater could leave her “feeling exposed” at a young age.

Speaking of over-exposure, Olsen is distinctly offline in a time when so many are defined by their social media presence. Among celebrities and regular digital citizens, the perfect balance of online and off is up for debate, but Olsen is clear: social media saturation is a choice for all of us, and everyone needs to draw their own boundaries.

“It has to be a personal decision, right?” she begins. “So, my opinion has nothing to do with what anyone else does or doesn’t do with it.” Her own journey began when she momentarily dabbled with Instagram (since deleted), while filming Ingrid Goes West, director Matt Spicer’s frightening and funny debut feature about a social stalker, co-starring Aubrey Plaza.

Up until that time, she says, “I had never touched it before. I thought, ‘This is an interesting social experiment for myself, to see if it is a good source to talk about charities or a good source to talk about small projects, or to share something goofier about myself.’ But I think at the end of the day, what I discovered was one, I’m really bad at creating a perceived identity!”

“I didn’t find it very organic to who I am as a person,” she continues. “I found some joy in putting up silly videos, but I think the main reason I stopped – not I think, I know the main reason why I stopped – was because of the organization in my brain.”

“Lots of horrible things happen all the time. Or, lots of great things happen all the time. Whether it’s something terrifying, like a natural disaster or a school shooting or a death, there are so many things that happen, and I love processing information. I love reading articles. I love listening to podcasts. I love communicating about things that are happening in the world to people around me. And what I don’t love is that my brain organization was saying, ‘Should I post about this?’ That seemed very unhealthy ….”

“And to then contribute to these platitudes that I don’t really love, you have to subscribe to two different ways of thinking,” she says. “So, I didn’t like that, and there was a lot of it that was just bothering me for my own sake of what value systems I have.”

That’s not to say that there’s any inherent value system – pro or con – in using Instagram. Olsen is clear that like any other method of expression, it’s up to the individual to use it as they see fit. “I do see a use of it and how you can use it well for work,” she says. “But I don’t think that I would like to use that tool to promote myself.”

She’s private for a millennial yes, but not prim. On the photoshoot, lockdown experiences were shared, and Olsen recounted her (hilarious) first at-home bikini wax: banishing her husband upstairs “for an extended chat with his therapist,” her trusted waxer on speed dial, and microwave set to ping! (Yes, Olsen is a trooper, as I mentioned.)

We catch up over Zoom a week later, her hair once again pulled up in a casual topknot, her cashmere turtleneck simmering in a dark claret, and her entire being suffused with covetable understatement. She chats buoyantly against an unexpected backdrop of pirate ship wallpaper in the playroom of a house she shares with Arnett, who proposed with an emerald and diamond ring in 2019.

“We first started to try to make it the gym, but it was so cramped,” she says of the jolly space. The home gym was instead awarded a larger room, where Olsen loves to maintain a varied fitness regime – running, yoga, dancing, more – though after all the intense Marvel filming, she jokes, “maybe it’s time to give up on my body?!” Being comic book fit does sound grueling or “time-consuming fun” as she anoints the “strenuous physical demands.”

Like most of us, she is longing for the spring, but she still takes a regular constitutional walk in a nearby Richmond park, whatever the weather. “The deer are incredible; every time I see them I feel alive,” she says. “We have been lucky to have nature around us in lockdown.” It’s a marked difference from her paparazzi-populated home in the Hills. “They know our walks, where we get coffee, work-out…,” she trails off.

Her haven in Los Angeles is her backyard, complete with a mid-century swimming pool and an edible garden. “It’s crazy the blackberries grow like weeds! I love watching a kid’s first reaction to an edible garden,” she gushes That has been the part of the pandemic travel restrictions she’s found hardest: missing her friend’s children growing up, and others who have been born this past year that she’s yet to meet. They will no doubt all be treated to her homemade blackberry sorbet on her return stateside.

Yet, her time on British soil will likely be prolonged, with a prospective indie commencing filming here when Doctor Strange wraps. Prompted for more detail, her firm charm kicks in. “I can’t jinx it!” she insists. Still, she will share that she’s heavily involved in the creative, and that funding smaller productions in the current climate has been a challenge.

Through it all, Olsen has remained determined and calm. “I feel patience is my superpower. But my weakness also,” she says. “I feel like it gets tested more than others who don’t have a lot of patience. If someone learns you’re easygoing or that you’re relaxed, sometimes it gets taken advantage of.” While she waits for the green light on that film, she is busy producing a new children’s cartoon with Arnett, “about loving and caring for our world,” and has also written a children’s book about to be published by Random House, all while the demands of Marvel life continue to surround her.

Indeed, Olsen is a superhero for the modern age: Multi-hyphenate, but fiercely devoted to the craft that she loves; instantly recognizable, yet thoughtfully protective of her private life; a woman with style, substance, success, and deep rewarding relationships with those around her; focused on a vision of a better world for us all.

Press: Elizabeth Olsen’s 20/21 Vision was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[onlystylesangels]

Final Call

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: Harry & Y/N catch up 

Warnings: A bit sad. Breakup.

Word Count: 1k+

A/N: Hi my loves!!! I have a short little fic for you. I started this a couple of months back and I just now decided to post this. I hope you beauties are well and safe. I’m sending all my love to you. 💓💕💛

September 2016

"Bub, do you know where my trench coat is at?" 

Y/N was in the other room making sandwiches for her and Harry. 

"I think it's in the closet?" She asked herself. Harry walked into the kitchen and grabbed the slice of cheese that was in her hand. 

"I'll check love." He said while chewing. 

Harry walked towards the closet and looked through the coats, well more of his coats exactly. His hands smoothed over the familiar fabric of his trench coat and smiled once he removed it from the hanger.

"Where are you going again?" Y/N asked as she peeked her head from the kitchen. 

"A short music film. I haven't told you have I?"

"I believe not." She said her gaze looking down at her sandwich. 

"I'm sorry love. I thought I told you," There was regret in his voice the way his voice changed from its usual cheeriness to a slow no monotone voice. He didn't mean to not tell you. He thought he told you a couple weeks back when he started to talk to directors about the project he wanted to do, but either way he wanted to tell you. He told you everything, or so that's what Y/N thought.

"I'll be back love. Jus' don't miss me too much, yeah?"

"I don't know Harry, I miss you whenever you're not here." Y/N muttered out as she buttoned Harry's coat. "I miss you all the time Harry." 

Harry stood there staring down at his muse, his light, his everything. He adored his Y/N; he adored everything about her since the day he met her. That day when they bumped into each other as their very own romantic comedy began. Falling in love the third time that they saw each other as Harry invited her to have ice cream and have a walk at the park.

But they both had no clue that sometimes romantic comedies have their own crucial endings. They both didn't know they were going to separate.

May 2021

Memories of their past came back swirling through Harry's head. His head in his hands as he clutched his phone waiting and asking himself if he wanted to do what he was going to do right now. Would she have moved on with someone else? Maybe she was still sleeping since the last time he checked she was in the states while he was currently in England. Would it make him feel uncomfortable was his last question.

Of course he was going to feel uncomfortable; they've been separated for almost two years now. Harry released his second album two years ago and Y/N continued living her life. She finally opened up her own bakery which was a little shop in size but she loved it anyway. She enjoyed her life right now. She loved the place that she was currently in and there were times that she would think of Harry while working at the shop hoping to see him come in and ask for a pastry and a cup of black coffee. But she knew it wouldn't happen. 

Harry was hesitant. His phone in his hand as his foot tapped the floor lightly. His soft curls curved through his fingers as he finally decided to dial the numbers that he used to have saved as a contact. The phone rang as Harry held his phone closer to his ear as he waited until the other line was picked up. After those long seconds, Harry felt like minutes and hours had passed. He put the phone down so he could hang up but before he pushed that red button her voice finally answered. She didn’t answer ‘hello’ but she said ‘Harry’, as if she knew it was Harry on the other line.

“Harry?” Her soft voice answered. 

Harry didn’t answer back as he was shocked that she still kept him in her contacts. He thought that she would have deleted him from her phone but that wasn’t the case. She kept a part of him with her even though they broke it off. But sometimes when people break up, there is always a part of them that goes back to that person. A part that she loved, the person she was once in love with.

“Y/N.” He answered as his voice sounded shaky from hearing Y/N’s voice for the first time in a long time. “You kept my number.”

A sigh was heard from Y/N’s line as she tried not to show her emotions. 

“I never got rid of it, Harry.” 

Harry was so close to losing it. He wished he could be in her arms one last time but he knew that deep inside that Y/N had moved on from him. And part of him has moved on from her as well.

She never deleted his contact from her phone. She was afraid of letting him go while Harry deleted her name from his phone but he made sure that he would remember her number by memory.

“I just wanted to call because I remembered today was your birthday.” He said with a smile. His eyes started to get glossy from hearing her breathing from the other line and waited patiently before she replied back. He missed that part of her. He missed it when Y/N would take her time to answer. He missed looking at her concentrated face, eyebrows furrowed and always pinching her bottom lip. Those were the memories that he wished he cherished more when they were together, but now he knows he’ll never make those memories again.

“Yeah it’s today.” She answered as she shut her eyes from her response. 

“Happy birthday bu- Y/N.” Harry finally said as Y/N smiled to herself and finally let herself loose from keeping in those tears that were threatening to leave her eyes. She kept her whimpers quiet but tears continued to stream down her cheeks.

"Thank you, Harry." She squeaked. She clutched her chest as her sobs started to get a bit louder, she bit her lip from letting out more whimpers. Harry was quiet on the other line and he kept his whimpers quiet as well. He wanted to cry so bad from hearing Y/N cry he knew this was a bad idea but he wasn't going to regret it now that he finally heard Y/N's voice.

"I hope you spend it with wonderful people and I'm sending you all the love to you."

A silence was shared between them. Their whimpers slowly calmed and their tears were no longer streaming down their cheeks. 

"What happened to us, Harry?" She asked, her hand squeezing the mattress as if that would keep her feelings inside of her instead of letting them out.

"We made a promise that we were going to love each other. We didn't think that our jobs would eventually separate us from each other."

"I don't think we were meant to be. But I enjoyed the time we had with each other and I thank you for that, Harry. You will always have a part of my heart and that will never change. I love you so much Harry."

"I love you more love. I know asking this would be risky but could we be friends at least?"

"I don't think we should, Harry. If we do then we'll never move on from what we used to have."

Harry sighed, his head nodded at her response. She was right. If they would stay as friends then they will never be able to move on from one another. It felt wrong but they had to disconnect from each other. 

"Yeah, you're right Y/N." Harry agreed with a sigh. He had his head low, his hand gripping his thigh as his eyes were closed as he tried to imagine Y/N one last time.

"I'm sorry Harry, but I'm glad you called, I've missed hearing your voice," she added, "It's been so long and I hope you're doing well. How is everything going?"

"It's going good, love. I'm on tour for my third album and I'm just having a good time with the shows and seeing the fans." He elaborated. There was a hint of joy in his voice when he mentioned his fans. They were literally the world to him. Seeing them during his shows made him happy and emotional. Knowing that there are people out there supporting him through his successes and his failures; people that he could rely on no matter what.

There was another comfortable silence between them. They have been separated for two years and they still feel comfortable with each other after those two years of heartache. Something in them both wished that they could time travel to the past and make it their present, but that was obviously impossible to accomplish. But they wished it were possible in some way.

"I'm glad you are having a good time Harry. I can already know how much this album, and seeing your fans means to you." Y/N said, a smile slowly appearing on her face as she remembered the time when she went to one of his shows and saw the love in her section. The tears falling down their cheeks and the passion when they would sing along with Harry. 

“I wish you could go to one of the shows. But I know you are busy with work."

Y/N understood him and she even wished that she could buy a ticket to go to one of his shows. She wished that part of her would go back to him and live the life that she used to live. It almost seemed as if ten years had passed when they decided to break up. But dreaming about it was just dreaming which made it impossible for it to come true. 

As for Harry; he was ready for her to hang up on him. He went back to that phone call that they had a couple days after they broke up. Today; he had the same feeling. He felt that deep feeling of his love drain away from his heart and all those memories he had with her were flashing through his brain and they came after each other as if he was put under a machine.

And so they both felt content. They both went back to laughing with each other as if it were old times. Content smiles on their faces and thinking back, they probably were not meant to be in a long-time relationship. But they both enjoyed each other's company when they were together. They will always have a space for each other's love and they both will not allow anyone to take that away from them.

They both knew that they were not meant to be, but they were thankful for that time that they cherished with each other and all the love that they gave each other while they were together. Both Harry and Y/N  knew that after this final call they would be at peace and that this would be the final goodbye, well, if they would both have the courage to do so.

A goodbye that was bittersweet nonetheless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

💓

[watchtower-feed]

Death Do We Part (Part 15)

SSA Spin-off ✧ Jason Todd ✧ Physical Link ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧ Words: 2,700+

     You rest your head on your knees as you look at Tim. Your lips tremble as you watch him struggle with his thoughts.

     He stares at his hands with narrowed eyes before you hear his broken voice.

     “... I don’t know if I want to be Robin anymore.”

     The morning dragged on agonizingly slow with Tim hiding in your room, Bruce nursing a drink in the kitchen, and Alfred sitting beside him. But when Bruce’s phone rang and the hospital told him that his son, Richard Grayson, was just admitted into Gotham General, everything sped past like a blur.

     The city traffic buzzing through the car’s window. The loud reporters hounding you at the entrance. The doctor’s mouth moving in silence as he reads from a chart, explaining Dick’s condition. You were only picking up words like critical and surgery.

     The first thing you became conscious of was Alfred’s hand on your shoulder. “Y/N. He’s going to be okay.” You didn’t even notice your tears until he was wiping them away.

     It’s past midnight in the hospital room. Tim is sleeping on the couch. Alfred is  in an extra bed. Bruce had just stepped out for coffee. And you’re still awake, curling up in the armchair closest to Dick. You’re holding his hand and looking at the fringes of his hair lying on his forehead. Slowly you loosen your grip to brush them back, but Dick’s fingers curl around yours.

     You’re too busy staring at his hand when he opens his eyes.

     “Hi…”

     You cover your mouth to trap the sob that’s lodged in your throat. “Dick--”

     He smiles. “H-hey hey. I’m okay.” He sounds exhausted but he still tries to laugh. “It’s just-- what? Like broken ribs again?”

     You frown at him, “One punctured your spleen, Dick. They had to stitch it up during surgery.”

     Dick chuckles, “Another one? Man. I swear I get one every other month. I probably passed out on Jason.”

     “You were with Jason?” your voice hitched a little but you lower it right away and check on Alfred and Tim.

     “Oh yeah… we had a nice little chat…” Dick’s looking at you now while frowning. “So… you’re leaving.”

     You pause and then look down when you answer, “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from Jason since yesterday morning.”

     Dick raises one eyebrow and teases you, “The morning after?”

     “Shut up,” you snap at him in a whisper, making him snicker quietly. You blush but you can’t help give a small laugh as well.

     Dick smiles at you.

     “He told me you were leaving and I was hoping to charm the two of you into staying.” He gives you a look, one that’s both sad and disappointed. “But I don’t really think that’s an option, huh.”

     Dick squeezes your hand and your voice is a lot softer when you answer, “He killed the Joker, Dick. In front of Bruce.”

     “Yeah. He told me.”

     “And you almost died, too.”

     Dick laughs, “Ye of little faith in me, Y/N. I had those guys--”

     “But the bomb. That one was real--”

     Dick shushes you. “Jason’s friends got me off the bridge before it went off. Guess you guys were too busy watching Jay and Bruce’s fight.”

     Dick slumps back against the pillows and stares at the point where the ceiling and the wall meet. “I hate to say it but Jason thought of everything.”

     Tim grumbles in his sleep and you both turn to him. Once the rise and fall of his chest becomes even, Dick speaks again.

     “This must be hard on Tim, huh?”

     Tim has been tossing and turning in his sleep. When he was in your room, he checked on his wound and was surprised to find that Jason had changed his bandages when he was unconscious.

     You watched Tim’s surprised look slowly morph into one of anguish. He didn’t know how to believe that Jason and the Red Hood were one and the same. Or is he just a persona Jason created to do what he can’t do. To protect the hard truths he wanted Bruce to realize.

     You close your eyes and slowly climb into the bed next to Dick. He makes room for you and you carefully curl up next to him.

     “He told me he didn’t want to be Robin anymore,” you whisper.

     Dick pats your head and hums to himself.

     “If I was Jason and Tim-- I was them. I was Robin and I always thought… I always saw Bruce as more than just Batman. He was my dad and my friend. He was my protector.”

     When Dick’s hand stops moving, you wrap your arms across his chest and hug him tightly. You can feel the even breaths he’s trying to maintain but failing.

     “But after what Jason did--” you can hear him clenching his teeth as he speaks, “After realizing that Bruce will always be Batman--to everyone-- more than anything else in the world… it shatters something in you, like you’re not special...”

     Before your life turned into this living tragedy, you always thought Batman was just a myth. You’ve seen him sure, leaping and gliding over rooftops from your window and from the streets, but you always knew he was just a man playing pretend. Maybe a police officer finally fed up with the red tapes and the joke that is the Gotham justice system.

     You always thought Batman was just another Gothamite who just got sick of being battered and bruised.

     “It doesn’t mean I agree with Jason, though.” Dick’s voice is a little lower. He’s giving you a long look with the same sad and disappointed expression. “His heart’s in the right place but Y/N, he’s the one who doesn’t understand.

     “When Bruce first brought me in, my parents were murdered by this guy-- Tony Zucco-- just a typical low life mobster in Gotham you know-- no one like the Joker. But when I became Robin, Bruce’s greatest concern was whether I would seek vengeance against that guy.”

     Dick’s gaze strays away from you. He’s looking somewhere past his feet, seeing something that’s not there.

     “I had him, Y/N. I tied him up and suspended him over a ten-story building, half hoping he would die, or break every bone in his body from that height and live out the rest of his days as a vegetable.

     “Then Batman came out of the shadows. He didn’t stop me. He didn’t talk to me-- he just put his hand on my shoulder the whole time, while I stood there and held this man’s lifeline in my hands.”

     Dick closes his eyes and takes a deep breath but he doesn’t open them again. The skin at the corner of his eyes crease and there are folds in his brows. When he speaks again, it’s rushed and he sounds exhausted.

     “In the end, I couldn’t do it. I dropped him from the third floor. He broke a few bones and that was it. It didn’t make me feel better. Killing him wouldn’t have brought my parents back-- it also wouldn’t prevent another family from ever being murdered…

     “Jason thinks he can get rid of evil in the world by killing criminals but he can’t. Because everyone is nursing evil inside of them-- I have something evil inside me.”

     Dick’s lips are quivering when he opens his eyes again.

     “Batman is the only one that doesn’t because all he wants to do is protect... everyone.”

     Bruce has heard enough. He’s been standing outside the hospital room with his hand on the handle when Dick started talking about avenging his parents. Desperately, he wants to go in there and join you and Dick. But the writing on your arm pushes him to visit the rooftop instead.

     He steps out to meet Gotham’s foggy air and reaches the end of the ledge when he calls out, “Worried about Dick?” He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t hear Jason’s footsteps approaching him from the shadows, but he knows he’s there. “You should be. He’s here because of you.”

     Jason stops abruptly and clenches his fist. “Wrong. He’s hurt because of your self-righteous courtesy toward the psychotic filth of Gotham.”

     Bruce turns around. Jason doesn’t have his helmet or his mask. He’s wearing a black trench coat but Bruce can still see the Red Hood symbol peeking from his chest. Bruce lifts one corner of his lips. “How does it feel?”

     To Jason it looks like a smirk on its ways to becoming a snarl. Any semblance of a smile on Bruce is unsettling.

     Bruce faces him fully with his hands in his pants pockets. “Now that you’ve killed half of the inmates in Arkham, how does it make you feel?” He watches Jason and lowers his brows and his mouth turns into a straight line. “Like it’s not enough. Right? Like there’s still a few more loose ends-- and you just have to be sure.

     “I know you went after Penguin and Dent after the club last night. I also know you’re still after Harley.” Bruce eyes his clothes.

     Jason tips his head to the side and replies to Bruce with a small smile.

     Bruce tries to control the urge to arrest Jason then and there. He tries to stop being Batman for just one second before he loses his son for good. He takes in a breath and releases it like a sigh. He takes out his hands to gesture to Jason.

     “If I could give you one last piece of advice. As a father. As a friend. Ask yourself if this is the type of person you want Y/N’s soulmate to be. Do you want her to be with a murderer?”

     Jason didn’t expect that. He was ready to have another go at Bruce, maybe their last showdown before he leaves town, but now he just feels insulted.

     “Fuck you, Bruce. I just want her safe-- To do a better job than you did for me. Be better than you.”

     Bruce shakes his head. “You can do that without taking another person’s life, Jason. Killing people will only put your lives in more danger.” He points to Jason’s chest. “And you-- the Red Hood-- are a testament to that.”

     Jason looks down, the crimson symbol on his chest peeking at him from his loose coat. The Red Hood is supposed to be just a means to an end. A myth strong enough to withstand the Bat’s. A new player to hook in the Arkham villains. Not someone who’ll join their ranks.

     Jason looks back to glare at Bruce.

     “I didn’t come here for a lecture.”

     The pause Jason gave didn’t go unnoticed to Bruce.

     “I assume you’re here to see Y/N,” Bruce replies. “She’s talking to Dick. She hasn’t noticed your message yet.”

     Bruce walks up to Jason and sizes him up. Jason watches as his demeanor changes. Bruce stands taller, his shoulders seem to go wider. Jason doesn’t need to see the cape to know who’s standing in front of him now.

     “Leave Gotham before sunrise.” 

     Jason can see himself reflected in Batman’s eyes. He suddenly looks like a child. The kid sleeping on the streets of Gotham. Scavenging in the garbage just to get by. Stealing to survive. 

     Bruce sees his own reflection in Jason’s and it terrifies him. He relaxes his shoulders and leaves his eyes half-lidded. Slowly, he lifts his hand and places it on Jason’s shoulder.

     “Take care of each other, son.”

     Bruce takes back his hand and starts walking to the door but Jason slaps something against his chest. Bruce looks down and sees that it’s an envelope. He looks back at Jason but he’s looking away from him.

     “Give it to Alfred… please.”

     Bruce smiles. He gives Jason a small nod before he takes the letter and leaves the hospital rooftop.

     When Jason hears the doors close shut behind him, he lets the panic settle in. He first feels its claws scratching at his throat on its way up to his mouth, prying it open, making him gasp for air. Jason jumps when the door slams open.

     You see your soulmate standing on the rooftop.

     “Jason?” 

     You run to him and wrap your arms around his shoulder, as far as you can reach. He bends down and you hold him tighter. “You’re okay!” you exclaim against his coat. “I passed Bruce on the way here and I thought--”

     “Y/N.”

     Jason’s voice is shaky. You pull away to take a look at him but he holds you tight against him. You feel it now, the way his lungs are expanding rapidly and his heart is beating hard against his chest. He’s gripping your clothes as he pulls your body closer to him, afraid to let go. Afraid you’ll let go.

     “I want to stay…”

     The Joker had killed him and it killed you. The League had planned on using you against Jason. Scarecrow poisoned you. But now they’re gone. Dead. The Joker. Scarecrow. Black Mask. Bane. Croc. Clayface. Penguin and Dent.

     Jason killed them all.

     “You told me to find a better life. Away from all of this, remember? And I wanted that.” Jason hides his face on your shoulder and you can feel his tears seeping through your shirt. “I wanted that for both of us. But how could I do that if we have so many enemies? How could I do that if they can come after us at any second?”

     Battered and bruised.

     Dick’s wrong. Jason doesn’t have evil inside of him. None of them do. Everyone is just broken. Cracked under the pressure of the city’s heavy fog and manipulated into playing a never ending game of survival.

     You glare at the horizon of the drab cityscape. Yellow lights left on all night. Sirens blaring at every corner. Sewer stench wafting toward the roofs. If Gotham hasn’t broken you yet, it will tomorrow.

     You hold on to Jason tightly.

     “It’s okay, Jason. Everything’s going to be okay.”

     “It’s not, Y/N. We can’t stay-- I can’t stay.”

     “I know…”

     You rub Jason’s back to soothe him. 

     “It’s not just the Joker,” you whisper. “Gotham did this to us. It’s taken something beautiful from us-- our link-- and used it to abuse us. It tore us apart and made us forget who we are.

     “We can’t stay here. We need to leave Gotham not because we’re not welcome. But because we need to heal, Jason.”

     Slowly, you pull away from Jason to take off his coat. He watches as you unzip his kevlar vest and lets you take it off of him.

     You stare at the symbol in your hands and silently thank it. Then you drop it on the floor. Jason is too stunned to stop you when you reach for one of his guns inside his coat. You fire two shots into the vest.

     This is something you feel you need to do. Jason got to kill the Joker, the phantom menace that has haunted your dreams and waking moments. You only get this. The barrel is still smoking when you return it to him.

     You pick up the vest and walk to the ledge of the roof. You pull back to gather as much momentum as you can and throw the vest out and down into the busy streets. You watch the Red Hood fall to its death until you can’t see it anymore.

     Jason holds your hand and you turn to face him. He watches the look on your face, determined and unmoving. As if you hold all the cards and you know exactly where to go. He’s never seen such an expression on you.

     He squeezes your hand

     “I’ll go anywhere with you, Y/N.”

     Just before the sun rises over, you’re already on a bus heading West, far enough away that even Wayne tower’s shadow can’t reach you. You pat the bag on your lap that has some clothes and your new identities.

     As the bus crosses the bridge, Jason is watching the subtle pink and orange light peeking over the ocean that meets Gotham harbor. It’s a rare sight and one you’ll both miss. He turns to you.

     “Hey,” Jason calls. “Look at your arm.” He takes out a pen. You watch as Jason writes on his arm and finally finishes his last words to you.

     I love you.

END.

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

[thehelldoodle]

One upon a time, I wrote this when I was stoned a month ago for @pbandcas and she said some of you heathens might enjoy it so, here it is

——

“Why did you invite us if you were just going to make us sit in the car?” Claire snapped.

She was wedged against the back door of the Impala, on the right hand side. She scowled at Dean who was glaring back from rear view mirror.

“I didn’t invite-“ he started to growl back but huffed and sat back in the drivers’ seat.

“This’ll only take a couple minutes anyway and then we’ll go buy you two some Happy Meals or something.” Dean continued in an attempt to change the subject and make amends.

Claire rolled her eyes. Castiel sat silently in the front passenger’s seat while Jack, in the back seat opposite of Claire, watched the exchange with a smile.

Miracle, the dog, sat between them. He was trying to sleep but the bickering kept waking him up.

“Just stay here.” Dean said sternly as he climbed out of the car.

“We’ll be right back.” Castiel added monotonously as he exited the other side.

Jack leaned out the window to look after them.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you? As back up?” He offered helpfully.

“No.”

“But-“

Dean grabbed Castiel’s phone from him and tossed it to Jack. Castiel looked to Dean in protest.

“Play games or watch YouTube or something,” Dean said.

“Why couldn’t he have your phone?” Cas asked.

“Shut up. Let’s get this over with.” Dean turned and strode across the parking lot.

The two walked into the small office building. It was quiet and there was no one waiting. At a desk behind a plexiglass window sat the legal clerk. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and her cheek rested on a closed fist as she clicked through what I’m sure was a very important legal document or program of sorts. It totally wasn’t solitaire.

Dean strutted up and leaned on the desk. The clerk glanced up at them and raised an eyebrow. Dean wore his usual brown leather jacket and skinny jeans. Castiel stood awkwardly still behind him in an ill-fitted button down and a trench coat that looked in dire need of a wash.

“Can I help you?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said, “we need one of those- uh- license certificate things.”

The clerk stared at him, an exasperated expression coming across her face.

“Could you be more specific?”

—

Back in the car, Claire had climbed into the front passenger seat. She was creeped out by Jack‘s overly friendly and cheerful demeanor, though she’d never say so out loud. Instead, she was digging in the glove box, snooping. Then, her phone rang. She sat back and answered the call.

“Hey, Jodi.”

“How’s lunch with Dean and Cas?”

“We haven’t even eaten yet. I’m stuck in the car with-“ Claire paused and glanced at the back seat, “A three year old and a dog.”

The line went silent for a moment.

“Dean let a dog in the car?” Jodi asked in shock.

“His name is Miracle!” Jack chimed in.

“Jack, how are you doing!”

Claire turned the phone on speaker and set it on the center console while she continued to leaf through the fake passports and IDs.

“Where are Dean and Cas?” Jodi asked.

“They went inside,” Jack paused as he leaned out the window again to read the side of the building, “the county clerk’s office.”

“The what?!”

—

“What do you mean there’s a 3 day wait period?” Dean argued, “Why can’t you just give us the damn thing?”

“Listen, I don’t make the law, ok?” The clerk replied.

“Dean,” Castiel said, hoping to defuse the situation, “We can wait the three days.”

“But, why would we do that? We’re here now. Just give us the damn certificate!”

“I can’t do that.”

“Okay, that’s it!”

Dean’s hand went for his gun. Luckily, Castiel was quicker and caught Dean’s arm before he commit another felony.

“Thank you,” Castiel told the clerk as he took the marriage license from the little window in the plexiglass.

She just nodded awkwardly, staring at the two and wondering how the fuck they could be compatible enough for this.

Dean turned to Castiel, fully prepared to argue. He stopped though, frozen by Castiel’s expression. It was, for lack of a better word terrifying. He wasn’t angry or glowing, he was just...staring. It was the type of stare that reminded Dean, who had started to forget at times, that Castiel was an Angel of the Lord. His grip on Dean’s arm wasn’t rough. It was, however, deliberate and Dean knew that he should probably shut up for five minutes.

Castiel offered a smile to the clerk, who was already trying to trade away her shift for the afternoon three days from now. Then, Castiel and Dean walked out of the office.

Castiel released Dean’s arm and whirled around to face him.

“What the hell was that, Cas?!” Dean shouted, bewildered at what had just happened.

“You-“ Castiel paused as he processed his emotions, “You embarrassed me, Dean!”

Jack and Claire, who had since been gossiping and plotting on a conference call with Jodi, Ash, and Charlie, were now both leaning out of the car watching two grown men argue in the middle of a parking lot.

“I what?!” Dean replied, wholly offended.

“Hey, you can at least feed us like you promised!” Claire shouted, merely wanting to antagonize them for the fun of it.

Jack stared out the window and Miracle slowly crawled up under his chin to watch as well.

“You embarrassed me.” Castiel repeated himself as he walked back toward the Impala.

“Yeah,” Dean huffed, “I heard that. You embarrass me damn near every day, but-.”

“Oh my god, you’re not even married yet,” Claire groaned loudly, “Shuuut uuuup!”

“You shut up!” Dean fired back.

Claire snorted and got back into the car.

“Nice comeback,” she sneered as Dean got in.

Jack laughed.

[artcenterstories]

Inside Job: Meet Interior  Photographer Christopher Dibble

ArtCenter: What inspired your current creative project? Christopher Dibble (Photography and Imaging '05): My first book, Modern Americana was released on April 20. Written by interior designer Max Humphrey and co-written with Chase Reynolds Ewald, the book contains around 150 images that I photographed of spaces designed and styled by Max. I began photographing Max's work when we met in Portland shortly after each of us made the move from Los Angeles. Because we had worked together so often, and the majority of our work published editorially, we had discussed photographing a book project as a potential next step. About six months later, the conversation got serious and Max secured a book deal with Chase to be published by Gibbs Smith. Since I had already photographed all of his spaces, and we had a number of other projects we worked on together, we had a head start with half the book photographed. During the summer of 2020, we produced the other half. We worked for two months, producing about 75 images in spaces ranging from estates, antique shops, boutiques and backyards. It was a challenge producing so much work in such a short period of time and the pandemic didn't help. No assistants, no rentals. Just a camera, a tripod, a tiny light kit and lots of dedication.

AC: Where do you get inspiration? CD: I think we can find inspiration just about anywhere. It depends on how we look things. A lot of my inspiration comes from film, art and photography, but recently I’ve been digesting photographic inspiration in a way that I haven’t before. I've begun looking at images to see what I would do differently and think about ways that I could elevate a particular photograph. A bit of a challenge, or assignment I suppose. I think this is a way for me to shake things up a bit, and change the way I look things and get inspired. How could I make an image of a room better? How could I make a portrait more intriguing? With inspiring films, I’m often drawn to the light and color, but also the story. I love when my images can tell a story.

AC: Describe the moment in your childhood where you first identified as an artist or designer? CD: I’m not sure there was a particular moment in my childhood where I first identified as an artist, but I do recall my decision to dive deep into photography. I had been a fan of Stanley Kubrick’s for some time, and his work inspired me to learn more about cinematography. While exploring that at Pasadena City College, I read a quote from him that said, “To make a film entirely by yourself, which initially I did, you may not have to know very much about anything else, but you must know about photography.” This was what prompted me to begin formally studying photography, and eventually led me to ArtCenter.

AC: How were you exposed to great art and design as a child? Who were your favorites? CD: I’m fortunate to have come from a family of artists. My grandfather was a newspaper photographer, and my father was a photographer and artist, so there was art throughout my childhood. One piece that I remember growing up with on our wall at home was a photograph of a man in a trench coat, standing in front of a sculpture, opening his coat with a quote that said “Expose Yourself To Art.” Fittingly enough, the man “exposing” himself to art was the future mayor of Portland, where I currently reside. And, I've been exposing myself to art ever since.

AC: What is your current obsession? CD: I've always been obsessed with textiles, and currently, I’ve been weaving my own. I primarily weave hand towels and blankets on a floor loom, but also enjoy weaving knotted and woven rugs, as well as wall hangings.

AC: What’s the first site you look at when you open your computer in the morning? CD: I don’t have a particular website I look at everyday, but the first thing I do when I open my computer is dive right into emails.

AC: How would your closest friend describe you? CD: This one felt funny to answer on my own, so I paid… er… asked. "Loving, funny AF, passionate about everything and everyone in his life. Will always tell you the truth and take the time to break things down for you. A great teacher, supportive, motivates you to do better and be better. Very knowledgeable about everything, from art to crafters, and also useless stuff like 90 Day Fiancé. However, don’t rely on him to help wipe a baby worm that’s stuck to your leg while in the middle of a field in Chiang Mai."

AC: What books are on your bedside table? CD: PhotoWork: Forty Photographers on Process and Practice, and The World According To Mister Rogers.

AC: What’s the one tool you can’t do without? CD: Where there is a will, there is a way, but having to choose, I’d say my hands.

AC: Where is your happy place? CD: Home. Not a building or a specific place, but a feeling. A less esoteric answer would be Italy.

AC: What is your prized possession? CD: My education, formal and informal.

AC: What’s your best piece of advice for an ArtCenter student who’s interested in following your career path? CD: The short answer, from a photography-business perspective is, learn how to read, understand and write a contract. If you don’t know what something means, ask for clarification. Having that clarity will save you time and heartache.

The long answer is more complicated. My career path has gone from editorial celebrity portraiture, to fashion catalogues, and now interiors and architecture. It’s been a bit of a zigzag, but all land around things I have a passion for: people, fashion and design. This has allowed me to grow and apply the principals I’ve learned from one subject to the next.

Photograph what you’re passionate about. While this doesn’t always guarantee financial success, it will give you more understanding of the subject you’re photographing.

Show your work, and meet people. You have the skills, but the relationships are just as important. Find out who you should be showing your work to. Editors at magazines? Art buyers at ad agencies? Gallerists? When I graduated, I wanted to work with magazines, so I made it a point to meet, in person, with as many magazines I could. When I shifted to photographing interiors, I made an effort to authentically connect with interior designers and publications. Beyond the initial outreach and meeting, I continue to foster those relationships and connections by finding common interests and staying in touch. Through this, I’ve made real connections and friendships with people I now get to work with.

Ask questions and listen. You don’t have to take every piece of advice given, but be open to receiving advice and critique, and apply it as you see fit. Don’t blindly reject or accept it.

Also, share your knowledge.

[yikeswtfmate]

Strange Times || Ch. 1

main masterlist // Strange Times Series Masterlist // next part

Summary: Mickey Pearson sends Raymond to fetch his sister from the airport. He’s never met this woman, but he soon finds out she likes to play with her food first.

Pairing: Raymond (Charlie Hunnam - The Gentlemen, 2020) x Reader

Warnings: swearing; sexual themes; mentions of violence

A/N: Here it is my lovelies, the fic i’ve been telling you about with Charlie Hunnam’s character whom i fell in love with (it’s the beard....and the glasses....and the hair....and the suits......and the whole righthand to a drug lord thing maybe?). I’m still unsure about posting it here because it’s a different type of Reader that i’m used to write (maybe i’ll just switch her to an OC) and it’s not Bonky. So please let me know what you think and whether i should post the next parts as well (it’s already 5k long) but if you don’t like it, this is a “felt cute might delete later” type of situation so no harm no foul. And for those of you who haven’t seen the movie yet, slight spoliers ahead!

The office is quiet, save for the scratching of a pen on paper and the ticking of a clock that is starting to irritate Raymond to no end. He’s been meaning to either throw it out or switch it with the one that is in the living room, but he knows how his boss would not appreciate the disposal of a five thousand pound clock plated in gold. Raymond personally thinks it’s tacky, but it’s Mickey’s house after all, and he should be concentrating on sorting out the logistics for that shipment that’s supposed to go out to Italy anyway. He turns back to his laptop, intent on fulfilling his responsibilities for the day, when Mickey stops writing behind him and clears his throat, demanding his attention.

“Raymond, I need you to go to the airport tomorrow.”

Ray stands up from his chair at the desk and moves to the table in the middle of the receiving room. He’s learned all of Mickey’s tells during the ten years he’s been his righthand man, and when he stops sorting out his agenda to pour himself a cup of tea, Ray knows he needs to stand to attention.

“Any reason in particular?”

“I need you to pick up my sister and bring her to the estate.”

“Your sister?” Ray is utterly confused, mainly for the fact that this would be the very first time he’ll be meeting this woman.

He was aware that Mickey had a sister back in the States, but even though he knows every aspect of Mickey’s life inside and out, this elusive woman is his boss’ best kept secret. He’s unsure whether it’s just brotherly protectiveness, pure paranoia at the prospect of their enemies finding out there’s still another weak link next to Rosalind, or it’s simply the fact that Mickey doesn’t want to talk about his family back home.

He’s heard she’s been studying for a degree in business at Wharton, but he doesn’t know what to expect, for all the odd comments Mickey and Rosalind make about her when they think he’s not listening. One thing he’s completely certain of, however, is how much Mickey looks after her, considering the sizeable amounts of money that are going into her bank account every month.

Mickey raises an eyebrow over his teacup. “I don’t see why you’re acting as if you didn’t know I have a goddamn sister, Ray.”

Raymond shrugs, deciding that it’s best if he won’t tick off his boss at the moment. He’s been on edge ever since the whole debacle with Matthew Berger and Fletcher went down. Mickey’s decided to hold off his retirement plans until someone comes along with a better offer (preferably none of Lord George’s minions though), so he hasn’t only been stressed about maintaining the value of the goods, but also pissed off that he couldn’t just drink whiskey unperturbed all day in a countryside manor.

“I’ve sent you all the details you need. Don’t be late, I don’t want her left unsupervised for too long.”

Raymond nods, eager to go back to his laptop. It’s time for homework, and there’s nothing he love more than information.

“And Ray?” He turns back to Mickey, but the man’s just looking out the window, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Be careful.”

“Of course, boss. I’ll treat her like a princess.”

“It’s not her I’m worried about, you moron.” He says with a frown. “I meant you. She likes to play with her food first.”

*

The private jet should be a surprise, but when you’re in the line of business Raymond is in, he’s practically seen it all. The charcoal trench coat he’s wearing today is flapping in the whirl of wind so it’s a good thing he foregone the machine gun in favour of an inconspicuous handgun. He’s almost certain nothing would come up on their way from Heathrow to Oxfordshire, but he made sure David fully stocked the car before they left, just in case.

He’s waiting patiently in front of the car, lighting a cigarette, while he watches the airport’s employees fuss around the plane. The airstair is released and Ray stands up from leaning against the car. The smoke that he exhales blind him for a second, but he still needs to blink three more times to assure himself he’s not fucking hallucinating when a woman that he can only assume is Y/N Pearson steps off the plane. She drags a hand through her long curls, moving her head from side to side in what must only be slow motion. Her heels click on the pavement as she makes her way towards him, and Raymond smiles involuntarily.

“I see the money’s been treating you well, Raymond. Although I have to admit, I kind of miss the long hair.” She says before Ray can utter a word. She places a manicured finger under his chin, closing his mouth, kissing his cheek with a smack. “You don’t remember me, do you?” Her eyes are patient, as if exhausted after explaining a child the same exact thing for the past hour. “We’ve met fourteen years ago, when Mickey expanded the business to five farms. You were only an errand boy then, remember? Granted, I was only fourteen at that time, a gangly little thing with braces, of course you don’t remember me.”

Raymond’s mind flashes to a vague memory of a girl in a sequinted t-shirt, a choker that could only be worn with so much seriousness by a teenager, and boots with fur, mated in English mud. She blushed to the roots of her hair when he asked her if she knew by any chance where Mr Pearson was, having to deliver a parcel to him personally. She just pointed with a black fingernail towards her left and squeaked something unintelligible before ducking her head and running in the other direction.

“Ah, there he goes.” She sing-songs as she watches his eyes shift in recognition all over her, but there’s nothing left of her teenage self, having grown into her body, comfortable in her skin, confidence built up with precision and care, together with an appropriate, if rather extravagant fashion sense.

“I can’t believe how much you’ve grown.” He says, realising that he sounds like a cliché when she rolls her eyes.

“Right, that’s what happens in life, honey. Can we please go? We can exchange pleasantries in the car, this wind is ruining my hair.”

Raymond keeps the door open for her, nodding to David who just finished loading the trunk with her luggage and he hops in the backseat next to her.

“I hope we’re stopping for lunch on our way.” She warns. “I’m starving and I couldn’t eat anything since I woke up because of those stupid turbulences.”

“Mickey is expecting us to be there in an hour.” He responds cautiously.

“Mickey can go fuck himself. I want a pizza and I haven’t been to Zizzi in a long time, so you better take me there, Raymond, or I’ll just ask David to kindly move to the passenger seat.”

The man in question looks at Ray in the rear view mirror, awaiting instructions. Ray sighs and nods once again, now starting to realise why his boss felt the need to warn him in regard to his sister. He hopes he won’t have to deal with her for long after she’s safely delivered to Mickey, because for all her beauty, she’s starting to piss him off.

“Oh, don’t look so glum.” She chides, after a few minutes of him plainly ignoring her. “I’m good company, I promise. I’m just cranky because I’m hungry. I’m hangry, Ray. I just need you to feed me.” She flutters her eyelashes, and she rests her hand on his thigh, purposefully ticking him off.

Ray shifts in his seat, trying to put as much distance between them, to which she just scoffs and rolls her eyes. This woman is dangerous, and for all his sinful thoughts that have been going through his mind ever since he laid eyes on her, Ray has to remind himself that this is his boss’ little sister, little as in eleven years younger for fuck’s sake. He’s positively sure that if he even lays a finger on her, his balls would be cut off and fed to the hunting dogs.

They finally stop after a short silent trip, and he helps Y/N into the fairy lit restaurant, leaving David posted in front of the car. He hopes there will be no more trouble like last time, having had his share of adventures for the goddamn decade.

Holding a chair for her, Ray waits for Y/N to take off her coat, and now he suddenly feels the need to swallow hard, as he rakes his eyes over her body. She’s wearing a leather skirt that is too tight to possibly be comfortable, but long enough to almost meet her knee high boots; her sweater is thick, appropriate for the cold January weather in the south of England, yet Raymond can’t help but wonder if her nipples are as perfect as her lips. Speaking of which, they curl up in a patient yet satisfied smile, a raised eyebrow that wants to show him she’s merely allowing him to inspect her so blatantly.

After she orders her pizza and Ray asks for a glass of water, clearly showing his disapproval for this unexpected stop. He can feel a nudge on his shin and she smiles at him in a way that he can only describe as charitable.

“You know, I’ve had the biggest crush on you back then.” She says and Ray chokes on his water. “It’s true. You were this tall rugged man with long hair that I wouldn’t have known what to do with then, but would definitely know how to handle now.” She smirks, while Ray raises an eyebrow, silently asking her to stop talking. Mainly because his imagination is starting to go haywire. “The beard suits you. But I kept thinking about licking your jaw all the way here so it’s a shame really that I can’t now. Those were some long 8 hours, Ray, I had to occupy myself somehow.”

“Y/N, you should really stop talking.” Ray would give himself a pat on the back for all the restraint he’s showing at the moment. There’s nothing he would like more than to shove her in one of the bathroom stalls and have his way with her, and by the look in her eyes, she knows exactly what he’s thinking so she’s relentless.

“Why? Afraid Mickey would disapprove? I thought you were a big boy, Ray, who doesn’t have to ask permission.”

“It’s not about permission, and we both know it. Your brother would literally kill me if…”

His words are cut short by the waiter who’s bringing Y/N her food and brazenly ogles her down. Ray can feel his hands involuntarily clench into fists, his jaw set at the man who would not just fucking go and keeps offering her pepper, sauce, or his fucking cock for that matter, because it’s so fucking obvious that’s what he’d actually want to say. Y/N just smiles sweetly, humouring his clumsy flirting, and Ray is more than certain that she’s starting to form a habit of doing things just to piss him off. When she touches the waiter’s forearm, he growls lowly, directing their attention to him. She feigns surprise, but he can read her amusement, while the waiter seems to decide whether to apologise or take his chances and go off. Ray knows that his glasses might put people at ease, making him look approachable, friendly, easy-going at first, but he’s perfected the frown and posture to go with it that puts people immediately in their places. Not to mention that spending over a decade in the business would shape anyone in a ruthless brute if need arises.

“My girlfriend here would like to enjoy her food now, thank you. She doesn’t need anything else, mate, you can go.”

The waiter finally scampers off, and Ray knows he’ll regret saying anything before he turns back to Y/N. She’s smirking like a bloody Cheshire cat if he’s ever seen anyone actually doing it, satisfied beyond belief.

“Don’t.” He warns when she opens her mouth to make a smartass remark, but she raises her hands in surrender and proceeds to eat.

Another battle of restraint and patience, as this woman eats as if she’s in a bloody porn movie, and who the fuck can eat pizza seductively anyway, for fuck’s sake. Raymond takes a deep breath, fishing his phone out of his coat pocket and calls his boss, doing his best to ignore the moans, the finger sucking and the swirling tongue in front of him.

“Hey, boss. Got Y/N from the airport, we’ll just be a bit late.”

“She wanted to eat, didn’t she?” Mickey asks and Ray can hear the exasperation in his voice. Apparently his boss is well aware of his sister’s antics, but it would’ve been better if Raymond were better prepared for the full force of what this woman can get out of him in a short half an hour.

“Tell him to suck a bag of tiny dicks, I don’t need his judgment.” Y/N says between licking a side of her finger and plucking an olive off her slice.

“We’re in Uxbridge, hopefully we’ll be there in an hour or so.” Raymond notifies, choosing to ignore her again.

“Fine. Just…make sure she stays out of trouble. It can stick to her like a fly to shit.” And with that Mickey disconnects the call.

Raymond sighs and puts his phone back. There is an uneasy feeling flowing through him, his instinct telling him to run away in the other direction, to avoid interacting with Y/N at all cost until her return to the States, but there’s another part of him, more primal, more carnal that is drawn to her. He hates it, mainly because there is no logical reasoning behind it, and he’s a very cerebral person, and he can’t figure her out for the life of him. Maybe it’s just the fact that she’s probably the first woman to act like that with him, as if she doesn’t care about the consequences, doesn’t give a toss whether he’ll bite or not. She likes to play with her food first, were Mickey’s words, which make so much more sense now.

Raymond can’t put his finger on it, and although he can have his pick of women anywhere he’d step foot in – he is very much aware of how handsome he is, thank you very much –  there is something about Y/N that demands to be unlocked. Or maybe it’s just that her tits look really great in that sweater and it’s the whole “forbidden fruit” bullshit. Regardless, Ray just wants to drop her off and go back to London where he can drown himself in work so he can forget about her. Or maybe have a night out, pick someone at a bar and pretend it’s her, because he’s absolutely certain by this point that it’s just the novelty of Y/N that lures him in, and definitely not those eyes full of mischief.

***

Taglist: I haven’t tagged anyone in this, as I’m unsure whether you want to read something that’s not Bucky related. Let me know if you do! Toodles!

[thestartline]

NYLON JAPAN February Issue - Stray Kids Eng Trans

NYLON JAPAN February Issue - Stray Kids Eng Trans

The world based Stray Kids has appeared for the first time!

At the start of the year, I read a fortune telling column on some magazine, that I’ll have a new encounter during the latter half of the year. The new counter in the latter half of 2019 was with Stray Kids, and the fortune telling was true. The shock I had when I first saw Stray Kids. Their fluid but powerful dancing, vocals that captured anyone who listened to them, and their rap performance as goo as any hip hop artist. Anyone who sees their stage will for sure be captivated by them. For the first time, Stray Kids have appeared solo on a Japanese magazine, and on the cover of NYLON guys. After their debut in Korea in 2018, they quickly went on a very successful world tour, showcasing their popularity and significance not only within Asia but all over the world. They have finally announced their long awaited Japanese debut in March of 2020. As for a boy group which is world based, this might be something normal. We will introduce Stray Kids who will surely become the icon of all boys group, through their fortune tellings and special photoshoot by NYLON JAPAN.

Lee Know

Known for his powerful and flexible dance. From his beautiful sculpted face, he is named the “Dancing Gem” by the fans. From Korea. 

Fortune SKZ2020 >> Lee Know

The year which will determine which direction to go forward to. Your surroundings might be surprised by your decisions in March. Your childish side will need to be toned down. There may be a possibility that you’ll wish to pursue something on the world level in August. Need to be cautious of your responsible nature and how you may try too hard at times. On your own pace, have fun both personally and officially!

Changbin

A skillful rapper known for his dark voice. Also highly regarded for his lyric writing. Often teased within the group. From Korea. 

Fortune SKZ2020 >> Changbin 

Your heart will be filled with happiness in 2020. During the winter, you will be concerned with your surroundings more than yourself which might be troubling, but by April, you will find a peaceful solution. From May will be a time to learn, and there will be more areas which will need to be understood. By September, you may possibly try something new! If you feel stuck, try relying on I.N.!

Hyunjin

With his sweet face, he is a visual that everyone admits. A dancer that leads Stray Kids. From Korea.

Fortune SKZ2020 >> Hyunjin

Anyone who sees you will understand its a happy year for you. If there is anything you wish to try, try saying it out loud! If it is accepted, April may become a fun month for you to delve into it. June and July may be a little challenging, but from August onwards, you will be once again surrounded by everything you love.

I.N.

The youngest in the member in charge of vocals. A natural airhead that is loved by the members. His dimples when he laughs is his charming point. From Korea.

Fortune SKZ2020 >> I.N.

Your life will become richer, and you will step into something new. Early in the new year, a big offer might come your way, signaling your luck. During the spring, you will be strapped to something with history and order but think of it as a learning period! By September, you will be someone who is highly regarded. Your free spirit will always be by your side. 

Han

In charge of rap but also a skilled vocalist; an all rounder. Part of “3RACHA” along with Bang Chan and Changbin. From Korea.

Fortune SKZ2020 >> Han

A year which you might have a lot of responsible jobs coming your way, but always remember that you will be one smiling at the end. From January, you might be caught up on the past, but your goal is April! You will have new ties in surprising places, and if you want to be acknowledged, set your goal for September and you will succeed.

Bang Chan

The leader of Stray Kids and the brain of the group. In charge of writing lyrics and songs as well as producing. From Australia.

Fortune SKZ2020 >> Bang Chan

2020 is a year that might change things dramatically. From the start of the year to March, you will be able to rest. If you are sensitive to your surroundings, many new supporters will appear and you will have a strong wind to push you through in June. On the other hand, by September, you might possibly change tracks and be greatly successful. Your heart will be delicate so you will need the support of your members. 

Seungmin

Mostly in charge of vocals. His skills earned him second place in his companies audition. Also speaks English well, and is an intelligent character. From Korea.

Fortune SKZ 2020 >> Seungmin

The hobbies and fun things you are absorbed in might become part of work for you, a lucky sign. From January, your luck with personal relations seem great as well. By spring, captivating job offers will come your way. In August, some difficult things might occur, but if you believe it is a chance for you to step up and endure it, you will be able to uncover a new self that you didn’t know about. 

Felix

With his cute visuals, but extreme deep voice, he is well known for his gap. Pay attention to his sexy rap and sharp dance moves! From Australia.

Fortune SKZ2020 >> Felix

Both personally and officially, you will be happy. Be generous to yourself! There will be a lot of changes in January, but March and April will bring new chances and allow you get on board. You might be able to reach for something you have always been dreaming about in August. Be sensible in November to not be scolded at. 

In the cold and brisk breeze, reminding me of winter’s arrival, I met Stray Kids in Seoul, Korea. They entered the set still looking sleepy. During the waiting times, they played with the cats on set, or teased each other, showing the natural sides of the group, the average age of the members being 19 years old. Different to the powerful faces they have on stage, another reason as to why they are popular. A little different to their normal styles, with the colourful outfits and ennui concept. Feel their first story through NYLON JAPAN.

Q. Firstly, please tell us how you feel about today’s shoot.

Bang Chan: As it is our first appearance on NYLON JAPAN, we are very honoured just by that. It has created a new precious memory for me. 

Lee Know: Today’s set is a famous shooting area! I have always wanted to come here, so I am very happy to be here on such wonderful opportunity.

Changbin: It is a derelict amusement park, and it was great to be able to shoot in the unique atmosphere. I was able to have fun by feeling like I was back in my childhood.

Hyunjin: From the styling, it had a different feeling to our other photoshoots. Personally, I had a lot of fun as the costumes were different to usual styles. 

Han: It’s been a while since we had a location shooting! As it is surrounded by mountains and trees, the air was good and I had a great time from the morning. 

Felix: As we began filming from the morning, I felt refreshed and because we were with the members, I had a great time!

Seungmin: I have actually seen a Japanese photo book before, and it was interesting because I was wearing something similar as to what the model was wearing in the photo book. There were many cats in the set, and it was really funny to see Lee Know taking care of the cats because he seemed like a butler.

I.N.: The shoot was fun, but because I heard it was the ruins of an old amusement park, I was a little scared at first. However, the air was nice and I was able to shoot with a good feeling. 

Q. You wore outfits with a lot of colours today, but do you have any styles you are liking recently?

BC: Always black! I think its my colour. All black fashion, I usually like to wear monotone looks. 

LK: I actually am not really interested in fashion... I used to think about it before, but these days I like to wear whatever is most comfortable.

CB: As winter is approaching, I want to wear things that make me seem softer, or things that are large and relaxed styles. 

HJ: I usually wear cute sweats, hoodie t-shirts, and big sweatpants so I think I’ll like to wear warmer things for the winter. 

FX: Its getting quite cold recently, so I like wearing a fur hood outer these days! I like to feel the warmth from my outers. 

HN: I don’t really prefer any fashion styles, but my style is quite showy compared to the others. The costume I wore today was colourful and I liked it, I want to keep trying lots of styles.

SM: I often like to wear long padding downs, long coats, trench coats, and long outers in general. Coats that go to my knees are warm and I like them. I was happy because my costume for today was a long coast as well. Its my style!

IN: I’m interested in street fashion these days, I used to like clothes that fitted my body, these days I like wearing wide pants, kind of like a newtro (new and retro) style.

Q. What is your favourite (pop) culture?

BC: I have always liked games, but recently, I’ve been busy and haven’t been able to do it much. But whenever I have a little time, I always want to do it... its a stress reliever for me!

LK: I watch a lot of films. Recently, I watched a film released in 2003 called “A Tale of Two Sisters” with Han. It was a horror film, but it was really great!

CB: I’m into music and YouTube. I’ve been listening to senior Kpop artists such as TVXQ and Super Junior, groups I was into when I was younger. On YouTube, I watch funny contents with fresh ideas.

HJ: I’m really into an artist called “Leellamarz” these days, I’ve only been listening to them. I have always been the type to only focus on one thing when I’m into it. 

HN: I like band music, so I’ve been listening to “One Ok Rock”, and recently, I’ve been listening to an English band called “Young Blood”. It’s great.

SM: Listening to band music is a hobby of mine. After listening to DAY6 senior’s songs, I listen to a lot of rock bands these days. It’s great fun to listen to the vocals, keyboard, and bass individually. I don’t know many bands so I’m still learning. The band I began to like recently is “Green Day”. I think their music is fun and good. (Bang Chan began to sing Green Day) If I’m ever going to play any instruments, I want to try the melody parts like the guitar, keyboard, or piano!

IN: Rather than watching movies, I like reading reviews other people wrote. I like to compare my own thoughts to how other people found it. I look for many reviews and enjoy reading them.

Q. Then we’ll move onto questions about music. Unlike other groups, Stray Kids can self produce their songs which is a strength, but is there anything you pay attention to or focus on?

BC: We create our own songs and weave it into the concept, making a performance. And, I think it is the most important part about self producing is to definitely put our message into our songs. We believe it is our strength to be able to tell our message from the bottom of our hearts, and Stray Kids cannot exist without that, which is our self producing. 

HN: As Bang Chan said, we like to make songs that our fans can understand, but what we focus on is having others relate to us. We try to incorporate all the feelings, anxiety, and experiences that people our age might feel into our lyrics, and we really try to have other people relate to us. 

Q. What do you think are the problems of the people in their 10′s have?

HN: There are a lot of young people now that don’t know what to do with themselves now, right? They are facing who they are on the insides, but they aren’t sure. So, I focus on putting in the feelings of not knowing what to do, or not knowing which way is the right way in the lyrics.

Q. Next, I’ll ask a question your beauty. Please tell us the secrets on how you stay good looking all the time

HN: Honestly... I was born good looking so... hahaha! There isn’t anything. Next, fashionista Changbin!

CB: I think its better if you don’t stress if you want a nice or gentle look. Its important to think positively all the time!

BC: To take in nutritional food once every day! There’s no point if your body isn’t healthy!

SM: Rather than being good looking, I think it is important to keep in mind the feelings I had towards music when I started as a Stray Kids member. A straightforward heart!

FX: When I’m on stage playing with the members or performing, or when I am communicating with the fans, I think thats when we look the best.

HJ: Isn’t how good we look on stage the true style for us? Even when we make a little mistake during practise, we practise until we go on stage and make sure the outcome is a 100%. We can accomplish that because we try that hard. We heighten ourselves to the best version of ourselves, and as professionals, we showcase the perfect version on stage. I believe that is how Stray Kids maintain our good looks, 

LK: I used to go on diets and care about how I look on the outside, but now I’m focusing on who I am, trying to face my own heart. 

IN: Who I am on camera and off camera, me on stage and off stage, I try to make sure its all the same me. My definition of good looking is whoever that can be truly who they are, wherever they are. I always try to maintain that mindset!

Q. Okay, so how you maintain your good looks differs. How about a easier question now - please tell us anything that you specifically focus on in terms of eating habits

HJ: I always make sure if there are no eggplants in my meals! I really don’t like eggplants. The members always try to make me eat eggplants, so sometimes I eat them without noticing. 

BC: There is something that I specifically focus on. It’s table manners. To not make noise when I’m eating, if I blow my nose I make sure I won’t trouble the people around me. It’s also important to chew a lot during meals, so I try to chew a lot.

SM: I don’t eat dinner the day before a shoot. Instead, I eat everything I want to eat for breakfast and lunch! I’m the type to lose weight if I don’t eat, so I make sure of how much I eat the day before. 

HN: On off days, there are days where I don’t eat properly, but I have decided to eat something I really want to eat deliciously once a day! Within the group, I don’t have a lot of likes and dislikes, and I think I eat a lot. Even if I bloat the next day, there’s no point if I have no strength! Really, its an excuse though haha.

FX: I’m starting to like eating spicy foods! But, when I eat spicy foods, my body doesn’t handle it too well. I get stomach aches. Days before I have schedules, I refrain from eating spicy foods.

IN: I don’t snack at night! I really bloat easily.

Members: Han is a night snacker, so I.N. always says he’s envious of him!

IN: When I began snacking at night, I can’t stop. I eat the next night too... I can’t stop myself. So I made a promise with myself to stop. I allow myself to snack at night about twice a month!

BC: I try not to snack at night, but I usually can’t help myself and end up eating.

LK: To work out, I’ve been taking a lot of protein lately. I eat whatever I want to eat and take in proteins. I heard about green tea diet before and I was drinking Green Tea frappuccino but it was no use... But, salad and hamburger is good for dieting. Because its filled with carbs, proteins and vitamins, right?

Members: That’s Lee Know’s excuse!

CB: I should take care of what I eat, but I don’t. There is one thing I do focus on, though. I don’t eat cold food and cold drinks. Cold food isn’t good for the body... But, if there are only cold food, I warm it up in my mouth before I drink it in. It’s good for digestion too.

Q. The key content for this month is “fortune telling”, but have any of you had your fortune told before?

LK, HN, IN: We have!

Nylon: Did you believe the results from those fortune tellings?

IN: I was told 2015 won’t be a good year, but 2016 will be better...

HN: At that time, I.N. and I were part of a project. We went to a fortune telling together, and we were told “August will not be a great month” and August was really crazy. I was scolded all the time! Even the smallest things I was scolded for... I should only look at the positive things from a fortune telling, haha!

LK: I was told that my luck will go up when I’m around 30... 

Members: Hahaha! How many more years do you have to wait?

IN: I actually don’t believe in fortune tellings. My parents went to a fortune teller before, and the fortune teller told them their son will either become a judge or a prosecutor. Thats why I didn’t believe in it... but, when I went with Han when I was a trainee, I thought fortune tellings are quite nice, so now I believe in half of it? 

Q. A lot of the readers of NYLON JAPAN are people who treasure their individuality. Please give an advice or message to those who have dreams and ambitions. 

IN: Don’t care about what other’s say about your individuality, and work on your own pace!

BC: There probably are people around you that accept your individuality, and people who relates to you and became your friends. I think it is important to be able to push on for what you enjoy. 

HN: I want the people to talk about how happy and blessed they are. Even having a dream is a big part of happiness. I hope your dreams will come true!

Q. The theme for NYLON JAPAN’s 15th anniversary is “NEW POWER NO BORDER”, but is there anything of this that you relate to?

FX: NEW POWER NO BORDER! (in his native accent)

BC: We always say our greeting by saying “STEP OUT!”. This “step out” means “stepping out of the borders”. With our own style, and our own music, we want to step out of the borders! This “Border” means “border” right? That’s something I relate to. 

Q. What do you want to tell the youths?

HN: There are people with dreams and people without dreams. Those who have dreams may stumble at some moments, and hard times may come along. But, if you can get over those hard times, your dreams will definitely be accomplished. For those who do not have dreams, don’t worry and look at who you are carefully. It’s not late when you find interest in something new, and I hope you’d be able to have some space for that in your heart. “Those who are talented cannot surpass those who try, and those who try cannot surpass those who have fun.” Even at the hardest times, trying your best won’t backstab you, and whatever you are doing, having fun is the best. I really want to tell them those words!

BC: It’s a little simple, but “Just enjoy!” Even at difficult situations, I think the winners are those who stay laughing. If you can have fun, good times will come. You’re still young, and life is long so “carpe diem” !

IN: Even if you can’t see the future, don’t worry about not being able to see, and it’ll be good if you focus on where you are now. 

Members: Those are words for us too

Q. Within your busy schedules, what stimulates you?

LK: This is obvious, but STAY’s are a biggest motivation! This is a fact!

BC: We’re really busy and there are so many things to get done, but interestingly, when I’m talking to the members, I think “maybe the future is bright?”. I feel like I don’t have to worry. The members help me. The existence of a group is good for the energy too. We can take care of each other and stimulate each other!

Q. I didn’t think you’d enjoy this as much. Now, the interview has come to an end. Lastly, you announced your Japan debut! Please tell us how you are feeling about your Japan debut

BC: It has been about a year and a half since we debuted as Stray Kids in Korea, but we are “debuting again” in Japan, which is a new feeling. Everything is new and exciting! We really can’t wait for our Japan debut! We’re all very motivated! Fighting!

Japanese to English Translation by @yarn1003 (skz acc on twit)

!! Please give credit when reposting !!

[topweeklyupdate]

TØP Weekly Update #134: Hey Kids (5/15/20)

Howdy, folks! Last Friday, your boy had the chance to either spend time with his girlfriend that he hadn’t seen in a month due to a global pandemic or spend two hours writing an update on the goings-on in the Twenty One Pilots world. It really wasn’t that hard a choice. I hope ya’ll understand.

But boy if it wasn’t a rough time to sign off, because there was so, so much content to go through. So much that I won’t even be able to list it all here to my usual level of depth. But I’ll do my absolute best to sum up everything that’s gone down the last few weeks. 

Zane Lowe on Beats 1. What else is there to say? Two hours of Tyler Joseph talking to one of the most artist-focused interviewers of our time, listening to his favorite artists and going in-depth about his process. From hearing him talk about how Ben Folds’ albums taught him how “the piano returns back the energy you give it” to him showing his pretty deep knowledge the cyclical history of music, there’s a lot to satisfy a guy who gets a little sad every time that Tyler says he barely listens to new music anymore. He talks about going out on a limb with “Jumpsuit” and getting “frustrated” when picking apart Radiohead. He shares really small artists that Zane has never heard of. They watch a clip of his first ever performance. He talks about making formative memories with Death Cab as the soundtrack in the same way that we all did with Twenty One Pilots.

And speaking of new music: Tyler mentioned in this interview (as well as a few other places) that he is actively working on a record right now that will come out “sooner than we planned on releasing a record”. He elaborated that it’s probably not going to be part of the Dema story, emphasizing that our presence at live shows is too important in shaping that and that this will most likely be a sort of ‘in-between’ project. I’d love to go in-depth speculating what that project will look like... but there’s just too much. We’ll save that for a less busy week.

Zane Lowe didn’t give us the only sweet bit of Tyler content from the last few weeks. Tyler dropped into a Zoom chat with the Columbus Music Commission. Tyler’s contribution is great, but the whole 1.5 hour conversation is really worth listening to, as managers Chris Woltman and Brad Gibson have a lot of great stories to share about how they got the band started in the early days, and exec Peter Ganbarg gives great insight into how they got involved. Tyler himself acknowledges that the band doesn’t happen without these men. Really, really fascinating stuff.

One of the most special bits of Tyler content was even more direct: a Q&A he participated in with Mark on Discord Clique. This was Tyler at his most relaxed and honest: sarcastic, funny, hilarious, and genuinely kind. He teased us that we haven’t found everything about Dema yet, and talked about projects like the original “Migraine” video that never saw the light of day. Perhaps most significantly, he finally talks about just what exactly the religion of Vialism is: a worship of self-glorifying suicide. Tyler talks about how “Neon Gravestones” was the only song he received real push-back from the label on because of the content.

There have been more than a few other interviews with the band over the last two weeks. There’s not really much in them that’s new, but there are some good details about diaper changing, and it’s always nice to hear Josh’s voice. This one with Josh is really very good because the interviewer has a mutual friend and goes out of his way “to avoid monotonous questions”- we get info about how he built his first home studio, how he takes care of his body, and- most importantly- what his favorite pizza crust size is. He even calls back when the call drops- what a sweetheart. Over with ol’ pal Stryker, Tyler talks about Rosie’s disinterest in his talent and ranks his own songs.

The chart trajectory of “Level of Concern” has been a little interesting. On the one hand, it reached Alternative #1 faster than any song since “Jumpsuit”. That said, it doesn’t seem like it’s going to become a massive hit, as it’s been falling down the Hot 100 pretty steadily and tons of Covid-related songs from more mainstream artists have been steadily streaming out. But that’s ok- as I’ve said countless times since the release of Trench and will continue to say until the sun burns out, they made their money, now they making their art.

Besides, Trench went Platinum this week, and Blurryface has been on the Billboard 200 for five years. Just saying- they’ll be fine.

Tyler and Jenna have continued to be pretty open about their time at home with Rosie. After sharing a picture of his latest hairstyle, Tyler went nuts on Instagram and recreated old Vines. Josh is in the filmmaking mood too, as he’s been trying to launch his TikTok career with videos about apple cutters or something.

Whew. I know that’s not even close to everything. I know that Tyler’s dad’s been giving a bunch of interviews to Pop Song Professor about old music, and I haven’t even had time to watch them. I know there’s details and morsels from all of those interviews I’ve yet to pick out. Listen, homies, I’ve got papers to write and grade. I’ve given y’all plenty to chew on... until next week.

Power to the local dreamer.

|-/

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

with all my thoughts and all my faults

Happy birthday to @somebodyhelpthenotdeadfreds!!! I’m lucky to share my birthday with another amazing creator (if you haven’t read her stuff, go do it now and review it because she deserves it!). I hope you enjoy this fluff after last night’s....everything.

AO3

1.

              It started out as drinks at first. A beer and a shot of whiskey each at Gary’s apartment as thanks for helping him and Ava get to the Waverider. John was never one to turn down free alcohol when it was offered. Besides, Gary seemed to be a pretty decent guy. A little naïve and shy, but he was brilliant thinking up that plan to track down Sara. It was also a bonus that he happened to be cute in an attractive, office drone sort of way.

Then came the knock at the door, and Gary nearly spit out his beer. “Oh jeez!”

“Expecting a guest?” John inquired, ready to cut and run down the fire escape if necessary. It wouldn’t be his first time.

“Uh, guests actually,” Gary coughed, pulling his Bureau pin off his jacket and shoving it in a drawer. “I agreed to host my D&D group here tonight. I totally forgot to get everything set up. Ava called me in to help find the Waverider and then we ended up at your place and then I asked about the beer and now I’m screwed.”

He looked like he was about to start hyperventilating, but John stood up and placed his hands on his shoulders. Slowly, Gary’s breathing start to slow down as a second knock came on the door.

“You with me, squire?” John asked.

Gary nodded.

“I can help you set up what you need. Hell, I’ll even stick around.”

The Time Bureau agent looked at him with his big brown eyes. “You’d stay? I mean, you don’t have to. And there’s no need for you to help set up. I should have done that after work before Ava called me back in.”

John chuckled. “I don’t mind staying if you’ll have me. I’ve always been curious about the game.”

That set Gary off blushing. “I’m happy to show you the ropes. And I have a spare set of dice you can use for tonight.”

“Sounds like a date. Go get the door for your friends, I’ll start getting things set up.”

              Gary nodded, stumbling as he hurried over to the door to let his guests in. John found a bunch of candles stashed in a cabinet and started to light them while Gary apologized for not being ready and that they’d have another player joining them tonight. Thankfully, his group seemed to be pretty forgiving and accommodating to him. If anything, they seemed happy to have another person around in their little circle of nerds.

              After deciding on his character and rolling the dice for his stats, John started to pick up on the game quick. It also helped that Gary and the other members of the group were happy to explain things along the way. During the game, John played a few parlor tricks with the group. A breeze too cool to be the air conditioning. A creaking noise above them. Something hitting the window just before the party faced something menacing. They all ate it up while Gary shared a knowing smile with him.

              Within a few hours, they’d reached a stopping point in the campaign. Gary’s guests said their goodbyes and left. John stayed to tidy the mess with Gary. At some point, their hands brushed together while grabbing for the same pillow and all thoughts of cleaning up fell away. Gary moved first this time, pressing his lips against John’s. John didn’t make any move to stop him or himself from letting hands roam to pull off their coats (or cloak in Gary’s case) as they stumbled towards Gary’s bedroom.

The next morning, John woke up with his head resting in Gary’s shoulder. He could have run like he had done so many times to so many different lovers. This time, he didn’t.

 ~~~

2.

A unicorn bit his nipple off.

              Gary was still shaken from everything that had gone down in the past couple hours. He had expected another mundane day at the Time Bureau filled with filing and longing for the weekend to go work with John. Instead, John had strolled in and found him, Sara on his heels. They’d asked him to come help with a mission to lure out a unicorn. Apparently, unicorns really were drawn to virgins, which he did not realize he still was.

              He also didn’t realize that unicorns were not the happy creatures that were painted in children’s fairytales. This one was a monstrous, terrifying beasts who looked ready to gobble him up. Gary had nearly been dragged though John’s portal to Hell with it before the Legends pulled him back in time. But it didn’t stop the unicorn from taking a piece of him with it. He didn’t even realize it until it was pointed out to him and shock gave way to pain.

              But John had been there, an arm around his shoulder. He had told Gary that his soul was heading there, that his nipple had just beaten it there first. Together, they walked back to the Waverider and to the med bay. Gideon probably could have healed the bleeding patch of skin where his nipple had once been, except John didn’t let her. He got out some supplies from a drawer after some rummaging and patched Gary up himself.

“It’s the least I can do,” John told him, taping the gauze pad over the wound. “You were great out there, squire.”

Gary smiled. “That might have been the most terrifying moment of my life.”

“And here I thought that was when you faced the dragon.”

“I nearly didn’t get dragged to Hell by a dragon.”

It came out worse than he meant it, but John still froze, a second piece of tape dangling from his finger.

Gary gulped. “That…didn’t come out right.”

John shook his head. “No, you’re right. I set you up and I could have lost you. But I would never let you be dragged down to Hell, okay? I can’t…”

              He trailed off and Gary knew he was lost in some broken memory of where that had happened. Reaching out, he took the piece of tape and put it on the other end of the gauze pad. Then he shrugged on his shirt and climbed off the seat. John didn’t even get a chance to protest before Gary wrapped his arms around him.

“Gary-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he told him.

              Something felt wet on his shoulder. John’s arms shifted to hug him back after a few more moments. Together, they stood just like that. Just taking comfort in the other being there right now. As soon as they let go, it would be over. Gary wasn’t sure he wanted to let go and John’s fingers digging into his shoulder blades made him wonder if he felt the same.

“I don’t want to ruin you, Gary,” he whispered in his ear. “I don’t want to break you.”

Gary wasn’t sure how to respond to that. How could you tell someone who made you whole that you’d already been broken?

 ~~~

3.

              Neron was gone, Ray was back, and the world have been saved through James Taylor. John felt for the first time like he could breath in months. For so long, he had been running from the demon, dragging the Legends into his fight and hurting them along the way. Now it was time to go back to the pattern he’d fallen in before this particular strain of madness. A travelling exorcist, wandering from place to place to offer his services.

              Gary had found him sulking in the library about leaving the Legends behind and joined him. He had come to apologize properly to him for his role in everything. John listened to every word the Time Bureau agent told him and saw that he truly regretted what he’d done. So much rejection and disregard had broken him, and John knew he had been the straw to break the camel’s back. It was exactly the thing he feared of doing, why he’d broken things off before it happened. Yet he had been the very reason it came to pass.

“I told you I didn’t want to ruin you,” John murmured once Gary had finished his long apology. “I’m sorry I broke you.”

Gary shook his head. “I was already broken long before you, Conny.”

              Despite the heavy words, the nickname brought a smile to John’s face. They spent the rest of the night, talking about everything and nothing. Gary admitted he didn’t know how to break his connection with Nora, that it wasn’t fair she was bound to him. John had told him Nora needed to fulfill his greatest desire and she would be released.

“It wouldn’t be fair though. I want to be close to you, but that’s not right.”

“You’re talking to the man who’s found more loopholes than he’s cared to count. What if…you became my apprentice?”

“Apprentice?”

“Wish for that. You told me once you wanted to learn magic. I can teach you and you get to be close to me.”

“Decided if I’m really worth your time once and for all,” echoed in his head as Gary’s face broke out into a smile.

              The wish was made a few days later, and Nora made Gary his apprentice. John offered to find a way to release her from the curse she’d become trapped it, but she refused because she’d grown to love working with children. She encouraged him to just go and make sure to not break Gary’s heart again. So John brought Gary with him on his travels and taught him the art of magic. Gary had the knowledge, but his execution needed the most work.

              They had their fights and squabbles but made up in the end. Together, they traveled around the country, saving people from demons and other nasty things. At one point, they took a day to go scavenge for mushrooms that could be used for different spells in a forest. Gary had made the same mistake John had when he was first learning about the collection process. Both had inhaled the spores and started feeling fuzzy and warm before their minds stopped processing what had happened.

When John came to, the sun was setting, Gary was waking up on his chest, and both were wearing significantly less clothing than they had before inhaling the spores.

“I’m sorry about that,” Gary apologized as they started picking up their clothing. “I really screwed that up.”

“Eh, not the worst way I’ve woken up,” John said as he threw on Gary’s shirt while Gary wrapped himself up in his trench coat.

If anything, it was in the top five best ways he had woken up.

 ~~~

4.

              The moment Gary realized that John had drunk poison on purpose nearly made his heart stop. In the hours since John had collapsed and Gideon had given the terminal diagnosis, Gary had felt the clock hanging above both their heads. He remembered the months leading up to losing his mother, an incredible burden on such a small child. But knowing he barely had a day with John felt worse because there was so little time.

              He’d done everything that he could. They’d tried Gideon and spells and Nora, but nothing had been successful. John kept on coughing up blood and becoming even more sickly. Gary had wanted to save him and fought to do it, but John had snapped at him and Ray. He drowned his sorrows in wine, hoping that it would numb the pain of the inevitable. Instead, it made everything hurt even more.

              As John dropped to the table, Gary had so desperately wanted him to lift his head back up and laugh, like it was all a stupid joke. When he didn’t, he started sobbing as Ray gaped in horror at John’s actions. The house and everything in it that John had left him was not what Gary wanted. He just wanted John back, for this stupid magic to reverse itself and bring back the man he loved.

“John…” he sniffled, reaching his hand out to close over the other man’s.

Ray shook his head, his own eyes starting to become red. “He’s gone, Gary.”

“No,” Gary shook his head, feeling so much like the little boy who had cried himself to sleep for weeks after he found out his mom was gone forever. “Ray, he can’t be.”

He took John’s hand in his own and got on his knees. The limb was already starting to feel chilly, or was that his mind overreacting?

“Come back to me,” he pleaded. “Please, please, come back to me, John.”

“Gary, let him go,” Ray extracted John’s hand from his. “It hurts more when you hold on. Trust me on that.”

Gary got back on his feet. “What do we do now?”

              The next few moments blurred together when he looked back on them in the future, but he was pretty sure Ray had been talking. Then John miraculously sat up with a gasp, scaring the hell of them. Astra had reconsidered and given him more time, taking the cancer away from his body. He looked so happy, hugging Ray, running around the room with the cane he’d relied on earlier, and then…his hands were on Gary’s shoulders. He had kissed him soundly before wondering why he’d been about to leave his house to Gary.

Gary didn’t mind the sting of it. John was back. He had come back to him and that was all that mattered.

              Ray went to go and out away the leftovers a little later. It had just been him and John together in the dining room. Neither of them said a word to each other for a minute, the silence filled by the opening and closing of cabinet doors from the kitchen. Then John had reached out and taken Gary’s hand, interlacing his fingers with Gary’s. Gary remembered holding that same hand minutes ago and how cold it had felt when its warmth now bled into his own palm.

“I felt it down there,” was all John said. “I know it was yours.”

Gary rubbed under his glasses with his free hand, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill over again. “I really hated that this happened.”

“I’m back now, Gary,” John squeezed his hand. “I’m not going out again. You don��t have to cry over me anymore.”

He nodded, wishing he had a tissue nearby. “Okay, I’ve been crying so much today and now I’m exhausted after everything.”

“Then let’s go to bed.”

              Gary felt guilty about letting Ray clean up the mess, but the scientist called that they could go since he’d made most of the dinner. John lead him up the stairs to the bedroom. The two of them just laid with each other, hands still connected. Gary shuffled over so he could hear the steady beat of John’s heart. Each thump was a reassurance that John was still there. That he was still alive after everything they had both gone through that day.

Gary didn’t know that John had his finger on his pulse and was using it as an anchor for his turbulent mind. A reminder for him that he had survived this latest ordeal and he wasn’t truly dead. Hell was not that through.

 ~~~

5.

              John trusted the girls to leave his house in shambles when he agreed to let them use it as a front for the sorority. He could have stuck around, but Nate was already on the hunt for the chalice. Mick had dipped out to go accompany his daughter on a college tour. There wasn’t much else to go. Thankfully, he already had a prior engagement.

Once he reached the building Gary told him he’d be waiting by, he could see him sitting on a bench, staring off into space. “I’m not late, am I?”

The question caught Gary by surprise as he startled and looked towards John. “You came?”

“You really thought I was going to stand you up?” John teased.

“I mean, I let a hellhound onto the ship and it nearly got you and Ava and Mick killed.”

John waved it away. “They survived it, it’s back in Hell, no one got their throat ripped out. Now, what were you thinking for tonight?”

“Well, all the bars are crowded this weekend from what I’ve seen,” Gary told him. “But I was looking on TripAdvisor and there’s this Malaysian place off campus that gets really good reviews. If you don’t want that, there’s a bunch of other places we can go to instead.”

“Honestly, I’m happy wherever you want to go.”

              They ended up taking their time, walking through the campus and past students who were coming out of late classes or running to the library. John had never been to college and had been fine without it. But it was nice to hear Gary recall some happier stories about his time in undergrad on their way. He hadn’t gone to Hudson, but he had visited it when deciding on where he wanted to go to school.

              The Malaysian place wasn’t crowded, but there were enough people inside to convince them it was a decent place for food. They spent so long inside at their table, talking just like they had after Heyworld. John knew as soon as the ladies had the chalice, this moment would be over, and they’d have to get back to bringing back Behrad and Natalie. But right now, he could just relax in the booth with Gary across from him, munching on hawker rolls and laksa, and ever so briefly imagine a life without worries about looms or Fates.

              There was still no word from the Legends when they finally paid and left the restaurant. So they walked down the streets some more before coming back to the campus. Gary had picked up a pamphlet from somewhere that mentioned things to do on the campus, one of which was stargazing. There was a hill that was supposedly good for looking up at the night sky and picking out constellations.

              It wasn’t so easy navigating the campus in the night, but they made it to the hill in the end. Lying down in the damp grass side by side, John stared up at the night sky with Gary. A cool breeze ran over the both of them, making John thankful he had his coat. Thankfully, the clouds were sparse that night and the stars could be seen even with the lights of the lamps at the base of the hill.

              They searched for constellations in the sky, pointing out the ones they could see. Gary knew most of the names, but none of the stories. John was happy to share them all with him as Gary’s hand reached over and took his. He interlaced their fingers, just like John had done ages ago. Everything felt perfect, but perfect couldn’t last forever. It never did with him. Sooner or later, it would crumble away. But right now, John could bottle this moment in his mind and look back at it to remember a time of happiness.

Even if he wanted more, right now was more than enough of what he deserved.

[son-of-alderaan]

J.J. Abrams is racing.

The director has been tasked with bringing four decades of the most popular and longest-running sci-fi franchise of all time to an epic conclusion. And nowadays he’s feeling a bit like Luke Skywalker flying his X-wing down the Death Star trench in A New Hope as TIE fighters closed in — under a bit of pressure, in other words, with the fate of the entire Star Wars universe depending on him.

“We always knew we were going to have three fewer months to postproduction this film,” says Abrams, who took over co-writing and directing duties on the movie two years ago after successfully rebooting the franchise with 2015’s blockbuster The Force Awakens. “So much is still being worked on. It’s literally a practical race to get it finished.”

If that admission sounds worrisome, hold your fire on those tweets.

Despite a deadline crunch to make the film’s Dec. 20 worldwide launch (EW’s interview was conducted in late October), Abrams says he’s feeling “infinitely better” at this very late stage about The Rise of Skywalker than he was about The Force Awakens.

“We had more reshoots on Episode VII than this one,” Abrams says. “We had more story adjustments on VII than this one. We didn’t know if these characters would work, if the actors would be able to carry a Star Wars movie. There were a lot of things we didn’t know. On this, we knew who and what worked, and everyone is doing the best work I’ve ever seen anyone do. But the ambition of this movie is far greater than Force Awakens. What we set out to do was far more challenging. Everything is exponentially larger on this.” 

For example: Disney has released three trailers for The Rise of Skywalker. Some of the shots are stunning and seemingly revealing: desert scavenger–turned–Jedi apprentice Rey (Daisy Ridley) and First Order leader Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) clashing with lightsabers on the half-submerged wreckage of the second Death Star, which was blown up in Return of the Jedi; Rey facing off against a somehow resurrected Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid); the Millennium Falcon flying into a massive armada of Star Destroyers. Plus, those bewildering teases of Rey turning to the Dark Side and teaming up with Kylo.

Yet Abrams says fans still don’t really know anything. “The [trailers] that have come out are scratching the surface of what the movie is,” the famously spoiler-averse director says.

Asked if there are major action sequences we’ve yet to see any footage from, Abrams replies with a firm “Yes” and then, naturally, goes silent.

John Boyega, who plays stormtrooper–turned–Resistance fighter Finn, says his first reaction to the script penned by Abrams and Chris Terrio was he had to “read the script six more times because there was so much information in there.”

Here’s what we know about how Episode IX begins: It’s been more than a year since the events of 2017’s The Last Jedi. The First Order has decimated the Resistance. Rey has been training to use the Force. Finn and hotshot pilot Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) have been sent by General Leia Organa (Carrie Fisher) to find allies throughout the galaxy, but so far haven’t had any luck. “They’re trying to put bandaids on this leaking ship of the Resistance,” Isaac says.

Their mission leads Finn, Poe, and Rey to work together, which has, oddly, never happened before in the trilogy. And since there’s a time jump, the characters have all grown and changed since we last saw them. “We’re not just a ragtag group of people who have been thrown together,” Isaac says. “We’ve actually had time to train. There are some really great sequences with the three of us in infiltrating spaces.”

Both Isaac and Boyega say they had their character wishes granted for the final film. Isaac wanted Poe to get “out the cockpit and into the group,” while Boyega wanted Finn to become a more capable solider (and not, as the actor candidly puts it, just a “comedic goofy dude who never gets stuff done”).

“I definitely wanted more after Episode VIII,” Boyega says. “[Rise of Skywalker] makes Finn’s Episode VIII arc make more sense. We got to bring out a side of Finn we haven’t seen.”

To help spark the trio’s on-screen chemistry, Abrams told his cast to feel free to improvise dialogue, and many scenes were shot using long, continuous takes to keep their flow going. “J.J. came back with a new energy and new vibe,” Boegya says. “He wanted dialogue to be messy and natural, and that got all of us really excited.”

“I think it really captures the spirit of the original trilogy,” Isaac adds. “On top of that there’s fact that Rey has…“

The actor stops, catching himself before revealing too much.

Rey has… what?

“Rey is driving her own thing,” Ridley says. “She’s not doing what other people are telling her to do.”

We last saw Rey mourning the death of her mentor Luke Skywalker (who returns in the film, presumably in Force ghost form, played once again by Mark Hamill) and shutting the door to Kylo’s power-mad seduction attempt. The heroine has since made progress in her Jedi training. “I have skills that have developed, but ‘confident’ isn’t a word I’d use to describe it,” Ridley says. “She’s definitely more in control of everything and can do new fun stuff, but she’s vulnerable and a little insecure about at all.”

Yet Rey will use more than her Force powers in the new film. As Abrams hints: “The scavenger who is desperate and haggling for portions and trying to survive [in Force Awakens] — those special skills and that special experience ends up being something that is essential to saving the galaxy.”

Ridley trained in kickboxing for the final chapter as well, but says the emotional toll of Rey’s journey was more difficult than any combat scenes. “It’s a heavy story for Rey,” Ridley says. “There were days where I was literally like, ‘I can’t do this, I’m so tired, I don’t know if I can like reach that emotion again.’”

Part of Rey’s journey involves solving the mystery of her identity. Well, again. Kylo revealed in The Last Jedi that Rey’s parents are deceased nobodies, “filthy junk traders [who] sold you off for drinking money.” The line embraced the idea that a hero doesn’t need to come from somebody special in order to be somebody special. Yet many fans called foul as the trilogy has teased Rey’s identity as being crucial information from the start (“Classified?” Rey echoed back to BB-8 during her debut sequence. “Me too. Big secret”).

“The parents thing is not satisfied — for her and for the audience,” Ridley says. “That’s something she’s still trying to figure out — where does she come from?”

It’s unclear if Abrams has made a course correction to Last Jedi writer-director Rian Johnson’s plan or there was always more to say about Rey’s parentage. Either way, wasn’t the Episode VIII scene supposed to be sincere?

“It’s not that she doesn’t believe it,” Ridley says carefully, “but she feels there’s more to the story. And she needs to figure out what’s come before so she can figure out what to do next…”

An even bigger cliffhanger is the resolution of Rey’s complex relationship with the First Order’s ruthless leader, who, okay, sure, also looks hot shirtless in high-waisted pants (but what if he didn’t?). Kylo has grown beyond being a “petulant teenager,” and Driver says Kylo’s killing of Supreme Leader Snoke was “kind of a birth moment for him.”

“He had all of these pseudo father figures that he had to either live up to or literally kill to become his own person for the first time,” the actor says.

Naturally, Kylo’s destiny will lead to at least one lightsaber clash with Rey. Abrams sees the duo as “two sides of the same coin,” noting, “even when they’re not together they still haunt each other in a way — they know they are each other’s unresolved business.”

For his part, Driver rejects any labels for the Rey-Kylo relationship. “I don’t think it’s all one thing,” he says. “Part of the fun of playing it is the boundaries of it keep changing. At times it’s more intimate, sometimes less intimate. Sometimes it’s codependent. And then it’s, obviously, adversarial.”

That Rey and Kylo end up battling on the wreckage of the second Death Star continues Abrams’ penchant for showcasing ruined relics of the original trilogy — like Rey spelunking in a wrecked Star Destroyer and living in an AT-AT walker on Jakku in Force Awakens. “It felt like going into the haunted house, the place that you have to go to,” Abrams says of bringing back the iconic space station. “This is a story of people having to grapple with the burden the prior generation dumps on those that follow. So literally returning to this wreck of the past and having to fight it out felt like an obvious metaphor, but also felt incredibly cinematic.”

Of course, there’s another original trilogy fallen icon in the film too. Fisher died after filming The Last Jedi. Figuring out how to utilize Fisher’s previously deleted scenes in the new movie was one of Abrams’ biggest challenges. “Saying Leia had passed away, or that she was off somewhere else, felt like a cheat,” Abrams says. “Then I remembered we had these scenes that we hadn’t used from Episode VII. It was like finding this impossible answer to this impossible question. Suddenly we had classic Carrie in these amazing moments. So when you see in the movie, it’s her, she’s there. It’s not like there’s some crazy digital trickery. She’s just in the movie.”

A couple of other original trilogy characters are likewise integral. Billy Dee Williams is back as that ol’ pirate Lando Calrissian for the first time in live action since Return of the Jedi. Williams says he’s excited to return to the character despite enduring fans coming up to him for decades accusing him of betraying Han Solo. “The whole Star Wars experience feels like it never goes away; It’s always there,” Williams says. “There are all of these things that have happened in Lando’s life that he’s got to resolve.”

There’s also paranoid android C-3PO, who in the latest Skywalker trailer ominously says he’s taking a “last look” at his friends. Threepio is essential to a movie’s plot for the first time since A New Hope (Ridley points out Rey might spend more time with Threepio than any character in the film).

“In previous recent movies Threepio has just been kind of window dressing, something on the mantlepiece, you polish it and dust it o when guests are coming,” says Anthony Daniels, who has played the golden droid’s body and voice in every Skywalker Saga movie. “J.J. and Chris came up with this aspect of Threepio we had not seen before that’s remarkably clever. They go down deep into ancient Star Wars and came up with something refreshingly new.”

Joining Threepio in the metal headgear club is newcomer to the saga Keri Russell. Despite having worked with Abrams for years on Felicity, the actress found herself escorted to a small room where she could only read the Skywalker script under watchful guard. Her character is Zorii Bliss, who’s “involved in some intimate, sketchy stuff” and wears a large brass-and-crimson Daft Punk-like helmet.

“For a shy person this is my ultimate dream job — I get to be in Star Wars and my face is covered,” Russell marvels. “I can see everyone and no one can see me. Though I now have giant throbbing neck muscles like Mr. T.”

There’s also newcomer Naomi Ackie portraying Jannah, a bow-and-arrow-wielding warrior who rides a horse-like creature called an Orbak. Real animals were used on set, and until you’ve ridden a horse dressed up like exotic alien across the surface of the Death Star you haven’t really lived. “I was just gobsmacked,” Ackie says of the experience. “Every day you’re grappling with the fact that every choice you make in a small moment is going to be broadcast to the entire world.”

While the film is introducing new characters, Abrams insists Rise of Skywalker won’t set up a future story. He’s not leaving loose threads for Disney to hang another trilogy directly onto the back of this one. Lucas’ original dream of an intergalactic tale about a farm boy from Tatooine is at last about to set — just like those dreamy twin suns collapsing into the desert. “It’s a very good ending, and a good ending feels right,” Daniels says simply.

And yet, in another way, the final Skywalker Saga film is very much about the future of the franchise. Star Wars will continue to exist in an omniscient Force-like fashion, in everything from toys to TV shows to videogames to theme parks, but new movies have always been the brand’s creative core. Since buying Lucasfilm in 2012, Disney’s movies in a galaxy far, far away peaked early at the box office with Force Awakens and sunk to their lowest level with the most recent entry, 2018’s Solo: A Star Wars Story.

At one point during our interview, Abrams declares, “the stakes are all or nothing with this film.” He was referring to its high-stakes story line, but the same could also be said about the franchise. Even if we never see Rey, Finn and Poe on screen again, Rise of Skywalker’s popularity will likely make an impact on Disney’s next studio moves — guiding like a fallen Jedi or Sith’s unseen hand.

Speaking of: There’s at least one key player we haven’t discussed. Palpatine’s return may be the most closely guarded story line in the film. How is the Emperor, who Vader tossed into the Death Star’s reactor core, back in a seemingly corporeal form?

“This has been a very long chess match that’s been played between the Jedi and the Sith — all the way back to the very beginning,” Issac teases. “It’s an amazing thing to see that really come to the forefront.”

The Rise of Skywalker might very well turn out to be a full-fledged reunion special of Force ghosts. And what are the rules that govern the Jedi and Sith spirit realm anyway? Obi-Wan Kenobi said in Empire Strikes Back that he “cannot interfere” with Luke’s fight with Vader. But in The Last Jedi, Yoda suddenly called down a lightning strike. What can Force ghosts do — and not do — in our world?

Abrams’ reply to that key question is pretty much what you’d expect.

“That’s probably best answered,” the director says, “by not answering it.”

[citrinekay]

Prompt: A case detective takes a dislike to Bill. Bill deals with it--not the first time this has happened--but when the guy starts getting on his age his self-esteem takes a hit. He *is* getting older and doesn't have the same energy he once did, but it also makes him think more about his and Holden's age difference. But Holden realizes what's going on and gives the detective a tongue-lashing. Basically an Insecure!Bill and a Protective!Holden.

Thanks for the prompt! I like it when someone makes me write something from a perspective I haven’t thought of before. Here you go, hon:

As if the week couldn’t get any worse, it’s fucking monsoon season in Albany, Oregon. Bill’s lungs are burning as he backtracks through the flooded, narrow streets, carefully avoiding the potholes creating tiny ponds in the pitted asphalt. Through the sheets of rain cascading from the angry, gray stormclouds, he glimpses their rented, tan sedan turning down the street. 

Bill stops walking, and bends down to brace his hands on his knees. He’s yet to catch his breath aftering chasing the unsub across four blocks before the younger man turned a corner, jumped a fence, and disappeared out of sight. Now he’s soaked to the bone, cold, lungs aching, and the arrest is a bust. The fact that they know where he lives is the only silver lining in this miserable day. 

Holden pulls the car up alongside him, and Bill ducks inside. Rain water drips off his coat and pools on the leather seat as he yanks the door shut behind him with a grunt. 

“You okay?” Holden asks. 

“No.” Bill says, “Let’s get back.” 

Holden’s mouth is pursed in a thin line as he steers them back in the direction of the suspect’s house. As they approach, the lights from no less than five police cars smudge red and blue across the slick windshield. Crime scene tape is stretched in damp ribbons around the perimeter while detectives in trench coats shelter themselves on the front porch and crime scene techs carry their equipment inside with tarps dragged overtop. 

Detective Messing is among those on the porch. 

Holden sighs, putting the car into park. “You know he’s going to have something to say about this.”

“I know.” Bill says, sharply. “Let’s just fucking get this over with.”

They climb out of the car, and flash their badges at the perimeter. Making their way across the muddy, unkempt lawn, they reach the porch just as Messing concluding a conversation with one of the CSU officers. 

The detective is a tall, fit man in his late thirties with dark hair combed back in neat waves against his nape. He radiates an air of self-assurity that had pissed Bill off the moment they met. 

They were called in on this case because a string of rapes that Messing had been lead detective on turned to homicide. The case, which in Bill’s estimation should have been solved over a year ago, is now stretching past its third year, tallying up eleven victims - three of them dead. He and Holden had only been on the case a week before they matched the profile to a previous suspect who had already been interviewed, but released on an alibi provided by his mother who he lives with.  

Bill doesn’t consider family a solid alibi, and he’d told Messing as much as soon as they came across the file on their suspect, Howard Jennings. Right away, he got the sense that Messing is used to getting things his way. The friction between them had only built since that first confrontation which had ended in Messing storming out of the conference room. Bill tries not to let internal politics or bad attitudes get to him when he’s on the job, but there’s something smug and infuriating about the way Messing treats almost everyone around him that gets under his skin. 

“So, he got away.” Messing says, his tone already indicating a fresh meltdown. 

“He’ll turn back up.” Holden says. 

“Yeah?” Messing says, his eyebrows rising. “And what if he doesn’t?”

“He will.” Holden assures, climbing the porch steps to get level with Messing. “He doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“We know where he lives.” Bill adds, stepping up beside Holden. “We already know his alibi is shit, and now that there’s police and CSU crawling through her house, his mother is bound to tell the truth.”

“So fucking what?” Messing says, sharply. “There’s nothing here, Bill. He doesn’t rape or kill them here. There’s not going to be any physical evidence that he’s our guy. Maybe you can close this up and call it done, but I’m the one who has to stick around once the charges are filed and try to prove to the jury that he’s our man.”

“We’re not just going to leave you holding the bag.” Bill says, disbelief sparking hot in his already simmering blood. “That’s not how we operate.”

Messing scoffs. “I should have run after him myself. You know what they say - if you want something done right, do it yourself.”

Bill draws in a deep breath, telling himself to cool it. They’re standing here on the front porch of the suspect’s house surrounded by uniformed officers and crime scene techs. The last thing he wants to do is lose the respect of everyone else in the department. 

“Look, we know how he thinks.” Bill says, managing an even tone. “And we can get him to come out of the woodwork. It might take a few days, but-”

“A few days? He could hurt someone else by then.” Messing interrupts, “You guys are unbelievable, you know that? We’re here to do real police work, not sit behind a desk and spout a bunch of psychological mumbo-jumbo. This bastard requires on-the-ground, physical legwork. If you can’t fucking keep up, then you should have stayed back the precinct.” 

“Man, what is your fucking problem?” Bill says, the words leaping from his throat before he can take them back. 

Messing stares him down, his face flushed with anger. 

“Okay, everyone take a deep breath-” Holden says, using his hostage negotiator voice that really just makes Bill even angrier. 

“Stay out of this.” Messing says, “I don’t have a problem with you, Ford. You’ve got your head in the game. I’m not so sure about your partner here-”

“You think I can’t keep up?” Bill interrupts, taking a threatening step closer to Messing. “Great. Let’s go. Let’s take this out back right now so everyone on this task force can watch an old man put you on the ground-”

“Bill.” Holden says, disbelief ballooning in his tone. He puts a hand on Bill’s chest, and pushes himself in between them. 

Messing’s jaw is quivering with rage, like he’s about to swing, and Bill almost wants him to do it just so he can make good on his threat. 

“You talk big game.” Messing says, “But where’s my suspect? Huh?” 

“I think we all need to calm down and think about this rationally.” Holden says. 

Both Bill and Messing begin protest, but Holden’s voice rises firmly above them both, “No. Let’s think about this, Detective. Be honest with ourselves.” 

Messing glares, his brows furrowing. “What the fuck does that mean?” 

“It means that we shouldn’t even be here.” Holden says, his tone steady yet cutting. “You’ve had Jennings within reach for months. You interviewed him, then you let him go. Bill and I are here because what should have ended with rape turned into one murder - then two, then three. We’re here because your chief of police took this case away from you, and handed it to us - because you couldn’t make the cut. Maybe you can run a little faster than both of us, but you certainly aren’t smarter than us when it comes to understanding how these men think and act. If you want us to leave now, that’s fine. Maybe you’ll get Jennings to resurface, and maybe you won’t; but we won’t be around to help you when your boss comes back looking for answers.” 

The sound of the heavy downpour fills in the silence. Messing looks like he might explode. Bill lowers his head, fighting back a smile as Holden matches Messing’s glare, unwilling to back down. 

Finally, Messing turns and walks off the porch without comment. 

“Come on, Bill.” Holden says, nodding towards the house. “I want to get a look at this bastard’s bedroom, and see if we can do any real groundwork to flush him out.” 

~

The next day, Bill’s body hurts. As soon as he wakes up in the hotel bed, he realizes that he’d pulled a few muscles in the chase after Jennings. He rolls back against the pillows with a groan, and closes his eyes against the hot pain that races down his back and into his leg. 

Maybe Messing wasn’t far off from the truth. 

Bill grabs his cigarettes from the nightstand, and inhales nicotine against the force of that self-pitying thought. He doesn’t like to spare any effort towards feeling sorry for himself, but it’s an idea that had cropped up in his mind long before Detective Messing and his arrogant vitriol came along. He smokes and drinks too much, and he doesn’t eat very well either. Most of their work is from behind a desk, and if he does expend himself the way he did yesterday, he pays the price the next day. More recently, there’s been times when Holden was up for round two, and he simply couldn’t muster the energy. Maybe he is getting too fucking old for all of this. 

Bill opens his eyes, jarring himself out of the deepening pit of misery when a knock comes on his door. 

He climbs out of bed, hissing at the pain shooting down his lower back. Throwing on a pair of trousers, he goes to the door, and pulls it open.

Holden is standing on the other side, already dressed for the day in a slate gray suit and navy blue knit tie. His hair is combed, jaw clean-shaven, eyes bright and alert, focused on the tasks ahead of them. 

Bill tries to muster a smile. “‘Morning.”

“Good morning. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” 

Bill stands aside as Holden strides into the room, going straight to the coffee maker in the corner to start adding water and grounds. 

“Have you showered yet?”

“No.” Bill says, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. 

“Well, you better hurry up.” Holden says, dumping coffee grounds into the filter and flicking the lid shut. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us.” 

Bill rubs a hand over his stubbled chin, thinking he probably looks afright. Worse than that, pathetic. Pull it together. But the thought makes barely a dent in his flinching subconscious. 

Holden jabs the button to brew, and turns around to pin Bill with an expectant gaze. “Well, are you gonna go get dressed?”

“Yeah.” Bill says, drawing in a deep breath. 

He wanders to the closet, and retrieves a clean pair of clothes. He can feel Holden watching him as he chooses a powder blue shirt, and sifts through his tie choices. 

“Is something the matter?” Holden asks. 

“Nope.” 

Holden crosses his arms, and draws in a deep breath. Gearing up like he’s about to pull a tooth. 

Bill closes his eyes, and clenches his jaw. “Don’t.”

“Bill, come on.” Holden says, “Don’t tell me Messing got to you. That guy is a prick.”

“Yeah, he is.” Bill says, cutting Holden a glare. “And to an extent, he’s not wrong.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“There was no way I was ever going to catch up to Jennings.” Bill says, “Physically. Thought was I going to have a fucking coronary right there on the goddamn street.”

Holden sighs, and shakes his head. “That’s not what we’re here for, Bill - chasing down suspects. We went into that interview unprepared. We had no idea he was going to run. We should have had uniformed officers there with us. Running after suspects is their job.”

“Just stop trying to make me feel better. It’s over, done with.” Bill says, yanking a pair of clean trousers off the hanger. 

He turns to head for the bathroom, but Holden stops him with a hand on his arm. 

“This is not just about Messing, is it?” He asks, softly. 

Bill glances away, feeling his face burning. He should have kept his mouth shut, but Holden has a way of getting him talking - and once he starts, he can’t really stop. 

“Bill, talk to me.” Holden whispers, taking the clothes out of Bill’s hands, and setting them aside in exchange for his own hands. 

Bill clutches Holden’s fingers, focusing on the neat, clean lines of his nails. His hands are soft and youthful, meant for devout, virile passion. For someone as young and fiery as him. 

“Where is this leading?” He asks, slowly lifting his gaze back to Holden’s. 

Holden’s brow creases with a little, confused frown. “What do you mean?” 

“This.” Bill says, “You and me.” 

Holden presses closer, whispering, “Wherever we want it to.” 

“I’m serious.” Bill says, “It’s the best sex I’ve had in years, but what about you?” 

“What? You think you’re not satisfying me?” Holden asks, scoffing quietly. “When have I ever complained?”

“You haven’t. Yet.” 

“Yet?” 

“Well, in five years you could be buying me little blue pills to get your rocks off.” Bill says, mustering a casual tone even as the words sting underneath. 

Holden stares at him blankly for a moment before his confused expression breaks into a smile. He laughs, shaking his head. “Bill, you are not that old. I think you need to give yourself a little more credit.” 

“Don’t tell me the thought hasn’t crossed your mind.” 

Holden shrugs. “It hasn’t.”

“Really?” 

“Yes, really.” 

Bill wraps his arms around Holden’s waist, and meets Holden’s calm, reserved gaze with a choked chuckle. “Well … all right.”

“Even if I did have to buy you little blue pills, it wouldn’t matter.” Holden says, spreading his hands over Bill’s chest. “I’m not with you just because you’re good in bed.” 

Bill lowers his head, biting back a smile, but Holden tucks his fingers under his chin to lift his gaze back up. He presses a soft kiss to Bill’s mouth, and sighs quietly into the tiny space between them. 

“And you are.” He murmurs. “Really good in bed.” 

Bill clears his throat. “I’m glad you think so.” 

“I know so. Now go get a shower.” Holden says, nudging the heels of his hands into Bill’s chest. “We have to go show that prick, Messing, who’s boss.” 

Bill chuckles, taking a shuffling step backwards. Holden has already crossed the room to pour himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee, the conversation miles behind his high velocity initiative for the day ahead. 

Bill lags behind, still caught up in the revelation. I’m not with you just because you’re good in bed sounds a lot like something else, something more serious. He can’t push it right now, but he tucks it in the back of his mind overtop his insecurities. It rests there like a blanket, smothering everything else in warmth - and maybe something more.

[neuroticphysiologist]

Quarter to Three

It sure took me a very long time to get me motivated to write...

Probably some sad old songs might help.

Man, this is one of the hardest fics I wrote. At least I made it.

My OC from my one shot "Itinerary" is back! But the setting of this is before Scott and Bethany are in a relationship.

Contains language.

Also available in AO3 and FF.net

***

He can't handle it anymore. He wanted to leave. He's fucking exhausted.

After a rescue mission in Alaska, he decided to stop by in New York. He switched into a full black casual outfit, fixed his hair, and grabbed his jacket with a few bucks, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter in its pocket before he hopped off Thunderbird 1. He rode on a cab, heading to the main street full of bars.

He looked around the street. It's a gloomy Saturday at around quarter to three in the early morning. Few people walking, wearing trench coats, some of them having a smoke, just like those black and white pictures back in the old times.

He had been thinking about his life. With both parents gone, and now living with four younger brothers, one adopted sister, and his grandma. He's currently the head of the family, he had a lot to do, and now he's exhausted.

He had to leave for a while.

It started to rain, so he entered a small bar, sat near the bartender's table, and ordered a drink. He lit up a cigarette and took a drag.

Surely is a sad day. Quarter to three, a little quiet, few people in the bar, some are asleep because of drunkenness, the jukebox playing slow paced songs. Scott listened to the song currently playing. He thought about his situation again, but then, a young woman sat beside him.

"There he is."

He turned to the right to see who it was.

"Beth?"

"Hey, Scott, glad you stopped by," she ordered a drink. "I haven't seen you since the opening of the new building in Manhattan, which turned out to be a disaster. You wished to see me but your brother needed you for his next mission."

"You came in the same time as I did?"

"Nope, I've been here for hours. I almost ran out of cents for that jukebox right over there. The local standup comedians earlier were a bore. Ten minutes before you came in, I had a great talk with the bartender named Mick over there. He made the best margarita, gotta tell you that."

"At least we have the time to meet again."

"Yeah. I missed you, Scotty."

"Missed you too, Betty."

He had another puff.

"What brings you here?"

"Disadvantages of living alone. Got to pay the bills, my aunt seeking help, and now I only have a few bucks for the gas tank. And I left my boyfriend because he's being a dick. My second cousin responded to my call and she helped me out, which is a relief."

"If you need more help, you can always contact me."

"Of course I'll call. And what about you?"

"Been hella busy. Dad's business, taking care of my brothers, especially Gordon and Alan since they're still in school. I have a few weeks left before going back for the last semester but still I'm in a fucking mess. Sorry I didn't get to call you, Beth."

"It's alright."

Beth took her drink, and so did Scott.

"That doesn't taste like the scotch I usually have."

"Mick probably gave you the heavy one."

"But that helped, thanks, Mick."

"Hey Mick, next time I come back, you know my usual."

Mick gave them a thumbs up.

Scott sighed. "I'm tired, Beth. It's been a month since Dad left us. It's like I'm carrying this really huge backpack with a heavy load of tasks that I have to do, and I'm climbing this steep hill. Also there are boulders coming in to knock me over. I jump over them to keep going. At times, I feel like I wanna drop the backpack and give myself some time off."

Beth rubbed his shoulder. "They'll understand if you want to rest. Just ask for help."

Scott felt like he was about to tear up. Losing his father and now taking care of his business and the whole family, that's a double, and it's stressing him out.

"Beth, your hand..."

"Sorry."

He nodded. She rested her hands on the table.

"What about you?"

"As I said, I have my cousin. You're the one who needs it more. You're stressing yourself out. It's your health I'm concerned about, and it's not just me. Your family's gonna be worried about you if you don't tell them."

"You're right. I did put myself into so much stress."

He stood up, put his cigarette on the ashtray, and took his last drink. "Alright..." he paid for the drinks, and then puts his hand on Bethany's shoulder. "Thanks for the reassurance."

"Anytime."

"Maybe I could give you some money for your gas tank, or your necessities..."

"I got it. You don't have to worry about me much."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll call you if this situation is fucking me up."

"Okay then. And you might wanna go back home too."

"I was planning to. I'll go back at 4:30."

"See you when I see you."

Beth smiled.

Just in time, the rain has passed. He closed his jacket and rode on a cab. He looked through the window to have a view of the night lights. He couldn't stop thinking about the same thing. He was close to crying in front of Beth earlier but he didn't want to get through it.

He entered the hangar and found his 'bird. He hopped in, went through systems check, and Thunderbird 1 flew off the city.

Thinking about his current situation made his emotions get worse, and again, he's close to crying, this time in the cockpit. His heart felt heavy and he felt tears running down from his eyes. He hurriedly wiped them off.

When he landed, he did not change to his usual clothes. He went back to his father's desk, supposedly to finish his report from his mission earlier. His footsteps woke Virgil up, who's at the sofa.

"You didn't turn on your comms since the time you rescued those workers, Scott."

"Sorry."

"Brains tracked down your last location. Did you have a drink?"

His brother nodded.

"Don't do that again, bro. Drinking then flying Thunderbird 1 isn't good."

Virgil sat up. "Why did you go somewhere without telling us, Scott?"

He did not respond.

"Scott?"

Virgil heard him sniffle. He approached to him.

"So this is how heavy Dad's job is like," tears fell from Scott's eyes again. "How does he do it, Virgil? I can't do this myself."

Virgil knew that Scott could handle anything, but this is the only moment that he'd say the opposite. Scott is the one who never gives up on anything, well, not only him but all of them, of course.

"It's building up every day. I have rescues to handle, I have to prepare for the last semester, and I have to take care of you all, and... I can't..."

"Come here."

Scott came in closer to hug his brother and cried.

"I was concerned about you, Scott. You're taking over Dad's job and I think it's hard to manage it by yourself."

"It's not just these tasks, Virg," he croaked. "It's just... I miss him. It's hard without Dad."

That last statement made Virgil tear up. The loss of their father has affected their lives so much.

"We all miss him."

"Oh, Virgil, I..."

The sound of him crying made his younger brother cry too. Virgil hugged him tight and rubbed his back.

***

The two elder brothers released from the hug. Scott wiped the tears from his eyes. Virgil glanced at their father's desk containing the files his brother had to finish.

"Alright," Virgil said. "I'll tell Grandma, I'll tell John. You need a day off, Scott. We can manage this without you."

"But I only oriented you a few."

"Don't worry, bro. I can handle it. Head back to your room, turn off your alarm clock just for today, and get some sleep. You deserve it."

"Thanks, Virgil."

"And then you'll come back strong again. Come on."

Virgil followed as Scott headed to his room.

Scott turned off the alarm clock. Before Virgil left his room, he hugged him again. "Thank you, little brother."

"You're welcome. Good night, Scott."

[hazelnmae]

Just saw your prompt list and OMG they're so cute! Thank you for taking the time to read thisx I really like number 33--could I request it with Arthur Shelby? Maybe where a friend from the war--they were sort of a thing in the war but not open about it and since the war finished Arthur doesn't want anyone knowing about them so he distances himself from the reader??--who is obviously upset and since Arthur won't initiate anything the reader takes it into his own hands?xx

OML Y’all are killing me--these are just so much fun to write!!

Thank you for the request, lovely Anon!!! XOXO

#33: “You shouldn’t have said that.”

The Small Heath Rifles were a solid band of brothers--unbroken by the devastation of war, unrelenting in their love for one another, unmoved in their support as they grew reacquainted with civilian life.

And you were a member.

You had been there, in France. Had watched the men you’d been in school with crumble under the pressure. Had seen them die in the trenches and tunnel implosions. Had suffered your own wounds, physical and mental, and had made every honest effort to pick yourself up from it all when you returned home.

You’d also fallen in love, though you couldn’t admit it to yourself at the time and had trouble even understanding it now.

Arthur Shelby had been a mate since school. But the war changed your relationship--had shifted it from a run of the mill friendship into something far more intimate. You’d fought shoulder to shoulder in the mud, rifles pointing at the enemy. You’d held watch, on sleepless nights, so your platoon could get some much needed rest. You’d told stories of home, reminisced about your mother’s corn chowder, shared letters from loved ones. You’d cried on his shoulder when you received word your father had passed from a heart complication. Had held him when the demons crept in and refused to allow him a moment's peace.

You’d kissed, though you never spoke about it, on one particularly cold night as you huddled down in a shared blanket bag. Your breath warm and bated. His hands exploring your body.

You were superior officer and private.

You were friends.

But you were in love.

When the news of a peace treaty had reached your company, all hell broke loose. Men everywhere celebrated, taking nurses into their beds, popping bottles of champagne they’d raided from abandoned houses and storefronts. But Arthur remained quiet. It’s almost as if he were afraid the war was over. As if he’d been comfortable with the horrors of war and feared returning to his life before it.

After that day, he was never quite the same.

You both returned to Small Heath--to the lives you’d left behind four long years prior--but you never really returned to yourselves. You’d both left something behind.

You hoped, privately, that Arthur may one day breach the subject of your moment of passion, but he didn’t. It wasn’t for a lack of opportunity--you did, of course, continue to drink with him on regular occasion. But it was as if, even in private, he wouldn't admit to himself what had happened.

And that’s what hurt the most.

The thought that Arthur might be ashamed of what had transpired, what you had known to be much more than just two men caring for one another the way men in war do, hurt you deeply. It seared your soul. Burned your heart. Wracked your mind.

It was unbearable.

And so, six months after returning from the trenches, you took matters into your own hands.

Arthur sat nursing a drink at the main bar of the Garrison Pub. It was a regular haunt for him, one you frequently found him sloppily staggering from, so you weren’t surprised to see him there.

He wasn’t quite as inebriated as you expected, and you took the opportunity to talk to him--capitalizing on his buzz, but not taking for granted a drunk and incapable version of the man you knew.

“Arthur, I think it’s time we talk,” you said, sliding up next to him at the bar.

Arthur turned to face you and it struck you that it was the first time he’d truly looked at you since the peace treaty was announced.

He just hummed in assent, allowing you to continue.

“We’ve never discussed it,” you paused, swallowing the lump in your throat, “but something happened out there. To us. Between us. And it needs to be addressed.”

He turned now, grabbing you by the collar and pushing your back against the bar.

“What the fuck did you say?” he asked, through gritted teeth, one wiry strand of the long locks atop his head falling into his eyes.

You weren’t afraid of him. You’d seen Arthur Shelby at his absolute worst. No, what you felt was more akin to pity--you felt sad for him, for the fact that he was going to try to deny it.

“Perhaps we should speak somewhere more private,” you said.

Arthur released you and brushed passed you quickly, moving into the small private room off the main bar.

“What’s this about then?” he asked, as you closed the door. He pressed down on his wrinkled suit and ran a hand through his wild hair to smooth it.

“It’s just--” you stumbled over the words.

As confident as you had been in your march down to the pub, you suddenly found yourself questioning it all. But you cleared your throat and continued. “It’s just that, well, fuck. Something happened between us that night. And I’m sick of you acting like it didn’t.”

He just scoffed and turned away from you.

“Fuck you, Arthur!” you shouted. “If you can’t deal with your fucking feelings, that’s your problem. But you need to know how I feel. Or, at least, I need to tell it.”

You paused, trying desperately to catch your breath. This wasn’t the direction you’d planned to take, but there was no going back now.

“I’m in love with you, you idiot!”

Arthur turned his body to face you, but kept his eyes trained on his feet. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” he replied, softly.

“Why not?” you asked. “It’s fucking true.”

“I know,” he replied, finally raising his gaze to meet yours. “But you shouldn’t have said it.”

You felt your cheeks flush, suddenly worried that you’d misread everything--that he never actually returned your feelings. Panic began to rise in your chest, you struggled to breathe and reached for the wall to steady yourself.

But before you could find the wall, Arthur wrapped his arms around you, steadying you and providing the strength you’d needed.

He raised your chin with a single finger, looking you in the eye with a passion you hadn’t seen from him in months.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you, about this moment, since we got home,” he said.

Before the disbelief hit your face, he’d pulled you into a passionate kiss, his tongue fighting your own for ownership of the act. Hands fumbling to find one another, though your bodies pressed together violently.

When you finally parted, he smiled--the first smile you’d seen from him since your return to Birmingham.

“I love you too, you idiot,” he said as he stroked your cheek slowly.

You leaned into him, content to stay there in his embrace as long as he’d let you

[foliea]

Rubber Band - Tyler Joseph Imagine

Paring: Friend!Tyler x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1,630

warnings: brief mention of self harm, a bit of angst but mainly sweet

authors note: this has been plaguing my mind for days now. And honestly it’s probably my favorite fic i’ve written ever. I’m super proud of this and I hope you all like this as well. Also I spent like two and a half hours writing this, it’s 4 am I’m tired.

March 17, 2006

as I walked down the halls on my way to the gym, I tugged down the sleeves on my hoodie. Insuring no one would see what tortures I put myself through. 

Just as I rounded the corner into the next corridor I felt someone run right into my chest. “Uh, sorry...” I muttered as I stuck my hand out to help the girl, who had fallen to the floor. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

She took my hand and hoisted herself up. “No harm done.” She smiled while dusting off her jeans. She slowly looked me up and down, eyes lingering on my arm. I quickly looked down only to see that my sleeve had been scrunched up near my elbow.

The girl sighed as I yanked the sleeve down. There was a brief slapping noise before she extended her hand out to me. In it was a singular rubber band. “Here take this. And uh when ever you feel the need to...” She trailed off looking to my now covered arm. I nodded understanding what she meant. “Just pull it back and let it go. Keep doing that until the feeling goes away.”

Hesitantly, I took the rubber band from her. “Thank you...” I looked up realizing I had no idea what her name was.

“Y/N.” She smiled.

“Thank you Y/N.” I quickly pulled the rubber band onto my wrists, just as the warning bell rang. 

“I’ll see you around...”

“Tyler.” 

“Tyler.” She repeated with a small nod before walking off.

Over the next few months Y/N and I swapped numbers to keep in touch over summer.

July 6, 2011

As I walked into the small coffee shop, a bell signified my entry. Despite living in Columbus my whole life, I had still yet to come here. “I’ll be right with you!” A small yelp was left out slightly after.

I walked up to the counter and stood there awkwardly waiting for the girl to appear from the back of the shop. As I stood I inspected the store. There were two other people there, an elderly couple, sitting by the window.

“Okay sorry about that.” The girl appeared behind the counter with a grin on her face. She seemed familiar. “What can I getcha?” 

I froze realizing I had no clue what I wanted. Hesitantly I looked up to the chalk board behind the girl. As I searched for something that I knew would please me I fiddled with the rubber band on my wrist.

“Ya know I gave you a rubber band in our sophomore year of high school not thinking too much about it.” Suddenly it hit me.

“Y/N?” 

“That’s my name don’t wear it out.” She let out a light chuckle at her own joke. “How are you these days, Tyler?”

“Honestly? Pretty good. My band has our CD Release party in a couple days. Well I say band... It’s really just me and my friend Josh on stage singing and playing drums...”

“Sounds like a wonderful time. Maybe I’ll show up.”

“Really?” she nodded with a toothy smile on her face. 

“Now, have you decided on what you want?” 

I quickly ordered my drink and handed her the money, making sure to leave a little extra in the tip jar.

Maybe I’ll have to come back to this cafe more often.

July 8, 2014

I nervously stood in front of the mirror when there was a knock at the door. “Come in!” 

“Hey, Ty.” Y/N smiled. “Ready for your big day?”

Although on the inside I was screaming yes. I still shook my head. “No... What if she walks out on me?”

“Tyler there is no way in hell that Jenna is going to walk out on you. You two are so in love its disgusting.” We both chuckled.

There was another knock at the door. “Tyler, Y/N c’mon we gotta go.” Quietly, we both stood up. She patted my shoulder giving me one last reassuring smile before running off to find Josh.

Ever since I had introduced the two, Jenna and Y/N became inseparable. Meaning that when it came time for Jenna to pick her bridesmaids, Y/N had to be on the list. And of course Josh would be one of my groomsmen.

----

“And yeah I know I probably should have ‘practiced’ my speech but I felt like wigging it would be better...” as josh when off on a tangent about how he didn’t practice his speech and everyone was listening intently, my mind wandered to how incredibly lucky I am. I just married my best friend and along with her, I have two of the greatest other best friends.

“Okay it looks like it’s my turn to talk.” Y/N let out a dry chuckle as as stood up. “The first time I ever met Tyler, I was on my way to chem, totally dreading it cause I had a test, when all of a sudden I run right into someone’s chest.” As she retold the story her face would falter only to perk of at certain points. “... It’s crazy to think that I made three life long best friends because of a stupid rubber band...”

She passed the mic onto one of Jenna’s other bridesmaids as she sat down, hands fiddling with something in her lap. From the distance I was at I couldn’t see but the look Josh had given me said it was something familiar. 

August 25, 2016

Josh and I quickly ran off stage only to be greeted by the open arms of Y/N. “You boys did amazing.” We smiled pulling her into another hug.

“Couldn’t do it without our number one fan cheering us on!” Josh laughed poking her stomach

“Cheering? No. Taking the best concert pics you’ll see in your life? Yes.” All three of us laughed again walking back to our dressing room to gather out belongings.

As we packed I could see Y/N’s smile falter while she quietly pulled at something on her wrist. “You boys... and girl... ready to hit the road?” Our tour manager asked, peaking his head through the door slightly.

“Yep!” Y/N jumped up off the couch quickly, turning to us. “I’m gonna head out to the bus to get ahead on editing these photos.” and with that she walked out.

December 28, 2018

“I remember the day pretty well for it being twelve years ago.” Slowly I told the story of how Y/N and I met, how I invited her to our CD Release, how she comforted me when I got nervous before my wedding, how she would take photos for us on tour. 

I could see her family crying in the front row, Josh quietly wiping his tears away as he held onto her little sister. Jenna was staring at me, silently encouraging me to finish. 

“But most importantly I remember the last time I saw her. There was something broken behind her E/C eyes. Something that I knew was too late to fix.” I sighed. “I didn’t think too much of it at the time though, I thought maybe she had spilled coffee on herself this morning, or maybe she was stood up on a date. I just wished I would have noticed that she was grabbing the rubber band on her wrist just a bit more than usual.” 

I rubbed my hand over my face, messing with my own rubber band. “I’m sorry.” I swiftly put down the microphone and ran off the to bathroom.

September 30, 2019

“Hey Y/N. Sorry I haven’t talked to you in a while. Tour, you know how it is. Anyways I thought I should say hi since it is you’re birthday and everything. Life’s been hectic recently. Josh and I just finished the final leg of the Bandito tour. The fans love it, they miss your photos by the way. Like a crazy ton. We’ve already started working on our next album. It’s gonna be better than any of our others. Okay maybe not Regional since that’s always been you’re favorite- actually scratch that, it will definitely be better than Regional. Everyone misses having you around. Especially Josh, but he’s been doing better recently. Jenna misses having another girl on tour with her. Oh that reminds me, Jenna designed our newest tour bus. Its awesome. Or I guess in Twenty One Pilots fashion, sick as frick. My mom misses you as well. She says I need someone around to convince me not to get anymore tattoos. I still have that uke you made me. The one with the art from each album. Don’t get mad at me but I added yellow tape so that Trench fits into it as well. Wait I almost forgot, Jenna and I have a kid coming soon, we don’t know if they’ll be a boy or girl but we decided that if it is a girl we’ll name her after you since you mean so much to us. I still have all the Polaroids you would take of me, you, and Josh. It’s crazy to think of how long it’s been since those were taken. It’s getting pretty late so I think I should go... Bye Y/N.” I slowly stood up brushing the dirt off my pants. I started to walk away before stopping in my tracks and turning around. “Wait I was going to sing for you... one sec.”

I sat down again pulling my ukulele out of my bag before starting to play Truce. “Take pride in what is sure to die.” I sang as I strummed the last cord. Silently I removed the rubber band from my wrist and gently placed it on the ground. “I’m sorry friend.” I said turning away from the grave.