#but also because music is a massive memory aid for me

[tinknevertalks]

It just struck me, as I got out of the shower, that in ten-fifteen years time, some teenagers are going to be doing their Music GCSEs (or whatever the group of exams will be called then). They'll remember the first time they heard that specific bit of classical music...

... And the episode of Bluey it was in. 😂🥰

[kelpiemomma]

IT’S DONE. Who Is She (Reprise) with Zoroakari! If you have or haven’t seen this part in Centaurworld, be aware that there is essentially an attempted suicide that is thwarted.

This was both a massive pain but also SO MUCH FUN to work on. I haven’t enjoyed drawing like this for a whiiiiiile! i am already considering other music i can doodle stuff to fdjkaflad This has been in the works for a Hot Minute bc I could only get so far with no way to add music u_u Pretty sure you can see the style difference change a lil! QuQ;;

SUPER DUPER THANKS to @psidontknow​ for slipping me the means to add music to the storyboard sketches, i love you!!!

I know the art isn’t the best but hey, you know what? I enjoyed myself, and that’s what matters ♥ I DO want to one day work this out a bit more because in making it I discovered a couple scenes I wanted to change but once they were on the music I was unwilling to swap them! So, we’ll see if this ever goes past a sketch!

Story Description below the cut!

IN SHORT: Zoroark!Akari has only vague memories of who she was before she died and became a Zoroark. She realizes that her humanity is slipping away after she kills a Ginkgo Guild member (Volo) and wonders who she used to be. Having heard of the odd Zoroark and seen her around a time or two, Ingo approaches her to either capture her or put her down, believing her to be dangerous, when she... turns and runs, chasing a ghost. After following the ghost to a cliff she watches the girl fade away, leaving just Zoroakari behind. She has some Thoughts on her past, vague memories of her death, and then hears a noise behind her. Panicked, she reacts by attacking whoever is behind her- which turns out to be Ingo, who followed her wondering why the Zoroark ran. There’s definitely some odd similarities to Akari, who went missing several months prior. Seeing what she’s done and knowing that she’s already killed one person and could easily kill another, Zoroakari approaches the cliff’s edge and gives up. Ingo was only knocked back so he sees her approaching the edge and tries to stop her, but she’s so lost in her own mind and misery that she never hears him. He charges off the cliff after her and calls out Gliscor to aid him in gaining momentum, throwing a pokeball at the Zoroark. Zoroakari is not expecting to be tagged with such an item and is Displeased that someone is foiling her plans to save other people, but is pulled into the pokeball. Ingo manages to catch it right before they hit the trees, with Gliscor coming to a rough stop. Ingo dismounts and looks down at the pokeball in his hand- you can’t catch a human with a pokeball, so has he caught Akari or something else?

♥

(Ingo does go back for his hat, only to discover that Lady Sneasler has already picked it up and was searching for him. He never leaves his hat behind so she worried something had happened to her Warden.)

[skeksismars]

Guys I've been re-reading homestuck for a couple of days now, I'm on ACT 5 and I have some thoughts, not on the comic per se, but on the overall experience of reading Homestuck again after years. First of all it's kind of underwhelming. I remember clearly everything that happens, so the novelty factor is out, and the pacing is much more quick now that my english level is way higher. When I started reading homestuck I was just delving into english and Homestuck was basically an english boot camp for me, I was reading it at an incredibly slow pace, with Google Translate at my side and even still a lot of expressions flew over my head, like "irons in the fire" et cetera. It took me months to get to ACT 5, months that felt like years; heck, it took me one month to finish ACT 1, but on this re-read I had finished ACT 2 on my first day! There is also the factor of the music and art; on my first read I was fourteen and I was just exploring my artistic capability and developing a musical taste, and the art and music of Homestuck touched me deeply. I remember trying to copy the blocky silhuettes of the characters and Calliope's drawing style and some OSTs of Homestuck moved me to tears to say the least: sburb's theme, LOWAS's theme made me cry when John "ascended" and CASCADE was a motherfucking ephiphany.

The second thing (this relates more to ACT 5 than the rest of the comic) is the shipping. As I was fourteen on my first read all the changing relationships between the trolls were incredibly entertaining and captivating, I was on the edge of my seat trying to understand if a character liked another and if they would start a relationship together. Now I'm 22 and I see it as it really is: just some teenagers exploring their feelings for one another, something that is wasted energy to be taken seriously and should be experienced with a bit of lighthearted fun. As such I can't be taken in the drama of it all and so another layer of the experience is taken away.

I have been able to experience some entertaining however, some things new and some brought back to memory that I am able to enjoy still. One of these latter things is the characters. I still love them dearly and I love seeing my favourites interact and go through their character developments: John's arc (I love his little outfits so much), John's dad is and will always be the GOAT, Equius&Nepeta's interactions, Karkat's whole thing. As I am still on ACT 5 I don't know how I'll feel on future arcs and characters (ex. the 3 years gap on the ship and all the drama there and the alpha kids & trolls). As for new things I love being finally able to understand the wholeness of Homestuck without the aid of a translation device, I can FINALLY read it wholly and understand its subtleties and tones. For example, I never understood the davekat and johndave ships, EVER. It was because the subtext completely went over my head! Now I can SEE that Dave had a massive crush on John goddamnit!!!! And Jade had a crush on Dave!!! And I can understand Vriska and Tavros' relationship better! The first time it just felt like a giant mess.

I also love being able to understand the characters' psychologies, because before, due to the language barrier, it was really difficult for me to understand why the characters acted like they did. Vriska's whole mess, Karkat and Sollux 's self hatred, Eridan's need to be loved and DAVE'S GAYNESS I swear I hated being out of the loop like that. I JUST DID NOT GET IT. As of ACT 5 it's still kind of clowdy, he has made a lot of dick and gay allusions in his rap and some trolls have called him out on that, Rose too, and he clearly has a massive crush on John, but he's so deep in the closet the signs are still very mild for my brain to grasp. If I didn't know preemptively that Dave was gay as of now I would not get it.

This is all I can think about for now, maybe later I'll update this post with other thoughts :)

Anyway this as been my experience re-reading Homestuck as a 22 yo adult. Peace out

[esotericfaery]

Intimate Spiritual Diary, Entry 10

TLDR; Being stardust, pushback, controversy, inspiration, personal growth, Aries, Pisces / Neptune, Mars, Sun, Moon, Rising.

How ironic…

The more complex we try not to be, because of pre-existing anxiety, or depression, or anything like that, the more complex we become.

The longer it takes to get through that accumulated shadow work.

This is the pushback from different parts of the psyche, as we war within.

I try to be inspired by my partial Aries cusp Ac, but as the Ascendant is only a tiny part of each horoscope; a mysterious cosmic magick which creates each person and thus begins the chart, it’s often not enough to leave me confident and bold enough to take action. Also, the Pisces side of my cusp Ac, as ruled by Neptune, causes fatigue of some level, to be a constant, by it’s very Planetary nature. Aries, as ruled by Mars, is one reason for why I feel so much electricity within me that I often have chronic insomnia along with chronic fatigue. I have bursts of anger which are difficult to identify with at their roots; though not normally. The watery seasons of certain years tend to cause them to erupt from within.

I search for purpose within this strange anger, which I thought I’d already cried away for good. I thrash-dance and feel into and out of each energy bundle, while listening to aggressive music as a healing aid.

As a Virgo stellium, I have to take loads of time to analyze things into the microscopic details, before feeling confident & bold enough for action. That’s the inherent ego attachment of each Sun placement to it’s zodiacal signs traits. It’s also how core self, the “I Am” presence concept many of us have learned about, expresses instinctively and naturally for a Virgo Sun, and for a Virgo Moon.

If only more people would understand, among other things, that about me, maybe they would stop deeming me as ultimately worthy of nothing more than impatience and dismissal. As a 7th House (all partnership types) Pluto (massive, heavily energetic transformation after destruction), conjunct (close to, and a melding of energies which are meant to lead eventually to some sort of harmony) Black Moon Lilith (both in Libra), this has been a common theme in my past romances, and in a few friendships. Mars (base human impulse, action) also in the 7th (in Scorpio), is where I’ve let my mouth run away from me in the past. Scorpio, ruled by Pluto, is the active part as the native sign of the 8th House, which expresses the most difficult changes we endure in life, and is a massive pushing energy because of the need for collective karmic balancing.

I’m determined to fully break out of this pattern, and never feel plagued by it again.

Don’t underestimate your Sun (ego) & Moon (emotional mirroring and bypassing). This duo are the only basic thing that even some of those stereotype-pushing pop astrologists tend to always get right.

Not that I recommend their pablum, of course.

This is me these days, trying to take a break from school, as my Ancestors are begging me to…

Well, I will keep trying to take more time off. We all deserve more time to relax. But, you know, earth signs gonna work.

Why do so many of us identify so strongly with our Ac (Ascendant / Rising) placement more than anything else?

Because it’s difficult to be human.

Because that’s the part of us which remembers on some inner level, the freedom and beauty of being stardust.

We want to live the entire life with the highest amounts of harmony and the most karmic resolution possible.

We can’t do this, if we think the Rising sign is the most important, and neglect everything else.

It’s difficult to not mostly want to identify with the purest memory of the self as a soul spark just being born.

It hurts less when we think it’s the most important, but in the long run, we are ignoring the bulk of the spirit essence that is the self. It often amounts simply, to each of us trying to escape our own inner needs, wants and desires. Because we think we’re undeserving of them.

And we can’t resolve enough karma that way.

We also can’t enjoy developing and playing with new skills and talents.

So let’s please stop.

Let’s declare that we are 100% worthy of all of the knowledge and all of the power to resolve all of the karma in this world.

And let’s take appropriate actions to do so.

[fantasy2739]

Consider!!! Douxie and the others talking about concerts they've been too and Douxie pulling out big name bands like Queen and the Beatles. (Also your writing is really good!!!)

Thank you so much!!! Yeah I can imagine Douxie listening to all the big names. This ones a bit short because I couldn’t work out quite how to extend concert talk. Now I’m a massive Queen fan so naturally they’re my focus.

I hope you like it!!

Mama ooooo

Douxie flopped onto the Lake house sofa. Claire nudged his legs off so she could sit and pull Jim next to her. They were chatting about the destruction of Arcadia Oaks High.

“At least we’re never going to have to present to Señor Uhl again.” Toby cheered. Jim chuckled.

“There were way to many close calls with him.” He agreed. “Like when someone turned me small and didn’t know if I could be turned back.” He looked at Blinky. Blinky raised one arm and opened his mouth.

“But it worked did it not, Master Jim?” He pointed out. “And we received a valiant ally.”

“All I ever heard from him is that he likes a Barry Manilow.” Krel said. “What is a Barry Manilow?”

“He’s a singer.” Douxie said. “Not my taste but he’s been around for years.”

“It’s not like he’s Papa Skull.” Claire said with a grin. This sparked a debate over the best concerts they’d been to. Claire insisted the Papa Skull concert she’d attended with Steve was the best.

“It was amazing. Right Steve?” She turned to the blonde who shrugged.

“It was alright. Nothing like my ninja warrior queen performing at battle of the bands.” He said, eyes glazing over as he thought about Aja.

“Forget him.” Toby said. “We should be talking about the awesomeness that is All Good Things. Best alt rock group out there.” He started mouthing this place it ready to blow.

“Papa Skull is way better!” Claire exclaimed.

“Guys, guys.” Jim soothed before the argument blew up. “They’re both good. Besides Techno is clearly the superior genre.” Claire and Toby both rounded on Jim, who held his hands up in surrender. Douxie grinned.

“Clearly you’ve all been missing out.” He said. They turned to him.

“What’s the best concert you ever saw?” Claire asked. Douxie thought about it.

“I can’t pick between two. There was the Vienna concert in 1808. It was four hours of Beethoven. My favourite classical composer.” He said with a grin. “And then there was live-aid. 1985. Watching Queen perform is one of my favourite memories.”

“Queen?” Blinky cocked his head. “You saw royalty perform?”

“Nah it’s this band, huge in the 70s and 80s. They wrote some of the best songs I’ve heard.” Douxie said. He could wax poetic about Queen.

“So they inspired Ash Dispersal Pattern?” Claire asked. Douxie waved his hand.

“Sort of. We were inspired by a lot of bands.” He explained. “Look no matter what you think of it, Bohemian Rhapsody was a master piece.” He could still remember walking into places and people would belt it out.

“Bohemian Rhapsody.” Blinky repeated. “It sounds delightful.” Douxie’s grin widened.

“Here let me play it.” He pulled out his phone and soon the room was filled with music. Suddenly everyone was dancing. Steve did some air guitar and Toby used a broom like a mic. Jim and Claire were dancing and Aaarrrgh bobbed to the beat.

“It’s not bad for Earth music.” Krel said. Douxie barely heard him fully ready to start shrieking ‘thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening’. Soon they were all joining in. As the song came to an end Blinky applauded.

“Oh bravo. I see why you like it so much.” He cheered. “Perhaps you have some other melodies to share with us.” Blinky looked eager.

“Alright then, hold on to your ears. I’m about to take you on music tour for the ages!”

[wdwmarveldisney]

could you write one with a modern au where the reader is a dancer and doesn’t have the typical dancer body like everyone else and is really insecure but race is there to comfort them?

Love?

Racetrack Higgins x chubby!reader

Summary: Three girls make your escape a little less freeing but a confession from Race brings back a little confidence and let’s a small dream come true.

Masterlist

A/N: So as a chubby girl who does musical theatre classes, this was a good outlet. Thank you so much for requesting, it honestly makes my day.

GIF isn’t mine

It had always been your thing. Something you had relied on since before you could walk. The amount of videos of you dancing was unreal. As soon as you were old enough, there you were in classes and on stage, light on your little toes. And slowly as you got older, you joined more classes and spent more of your spare time perfecting form and practicing every minute you could. It was an escape, one you had become so dependant on that it killed you when you missed a class. But things happen when you get older, you start to notice how judgemental people are and how pressuring they can be too. You may dance every day but you didn't have a typical perfect dancer body. You were slightly chubby and people noticed. And they weren't exactly quiet about it.

There was this group of girls in your dance class, the three were your basic bullies. They all found it hilarious when you danced, giggling and whispering behind their hands. It pissed you off. How could they deem you worthy of that treatment just because you were slightly bigger? You'd seen them whisper to others, point out little things and you tried your hardest not to let it get to you. But of course it did. And you had tried everything you could to lose weight but nothing ever worked and you had learned to just try to deal with it. You couldn't but every class, you tried. It had caused you to hate your dance clothes, to lose your confidence, to watch everyone as you hugged yourself to make sure they weren't looking. You were scared of people, everyone judging you.

Today, you were performing on stage in front of this massive crowd. you'd already done the tap number and the jazz and next you had your ballet solo. You were already uncomfortable enough over your leotard and your hair looked a little messy but you only had a minute until you were on so there was no time to fix it. As you slipped on your ballet shoes, there was a knock at the door. Glancing over, you saw Race there in his all his glory. Bright blue eyes, blonde curls and cheeky grin. You had known Race for a while now, being in similar classes at school and getting paired together sometimes in dance. You hadn't actually talked to him, like full conversation talk to him, until a year or so ago. You had both been paired in history and had to do a project over a two week period and you two became quick friends. Of course you had a small crush on him but so did like half the school. And he flirted with plenty of girls so you were just fine to keep the status quo. You were sure he had what those girls had said anyway, probably wouldn't ever go for you and maybe even agreed with them.

He grinned as he leant against the frame of the door with his arms crossed over his chest. "Just came by to wish ya luck. Break a leg," you smiled back, eyes drifting back to your feet as you tugged the shoe on. You knew he was still there so you sent another smile over your shoulder, "Thanks Racer, means a lot," you replied as you got up and jumped to make sure they were on properly. You heard him laugh and felt your stomach drop, arms coming up cross over your stomach. "Gotta go," you muttered to him as you made your way past and to the left wing of the stage. Shaking out your hands, you bounced on your heels as a smile took its rightful place on your face. It soon faded however when you remembered he laughed. He laughed. You knew it, he agreed with them. He agreed that you shouldn't be dancing, that you looked ridiculous out on stage and that you might as well give up. He agreed that you were pathetic for ever thinking that you looked good dancing, that you would ever make it.

You heard the song they were currently performing to end and watched them rush off to the right wing. You slowly headed to your mark and when the music started to play, all thoughts dissipating as you danced. The dance was one you had been practicing for months, you could do it with your eyes closed and  you could had it perfectly timed even with you did it no music. It was practically engraved into your muscle memory and didn't need much thought to what you did next. You were glad the lights were so bright, always happy with the way the audience's faces were blocked out. As you turned, you caught gazes with a certain blue pair that reminded you of what you didn't what to think right of at that moment. Trying to suppress the thoughts, you carried on with the leap. As you went, you could feel everything you were doing wrong and immediately went to point your toes more but that seemed to throw you off as you landed. You twisted your ankle as your foot touched the ground and you tumbled. The music faded as they realised what had happened and the lights dimmed for them to get you off without much without much hassle. You could to see the faces, people whispering one another and you felt the tears begin to well as you immediately got up and tried to walk off stage but it hurt too bad. You fell forward again but this time you grabbed ahold of two arms that happened to belong to a certain blonde beauty.

Oh great, not only did all those people see but also the boy you had a massive crush and was also one of your closet friends had had a front row seat. You looked to eyes, expecting amusement and maybe disgust but the only thing you saw was concern. You would've been confused if you hadn't been in so much pain. You barely registered him lifting your arm over his head and placing it over his shoulders as your dance teacher helped him help you off stage. They sat you down in the dressing room and you saw the three girls leave, giggling to themselves as they went. The tears seemed to get worse as your teacher left to get a first aid kit and an ice pack. Race stayed right by your side, holding your hand as he checked your ankle and completely oblivious to the tears that fell down your cheeks. Sniffling a bit, you caught his attention and quickly you wiped away the tears as you spoke, "I'm fine, you can go," the look he gave you was priceless, the complete disbelief enough to make you laugh a little even with how you were. Race shook his head as he stood and grabbed a seat and putting a cushion there for you to rest your ankle on. "You'se know when I said 'break a leg', I'se didn't mean it literally, right?" You giggled again, making him smile at you all goofily but the worry never went away.

He watched you shift and fiddled his thumbs before finally asking the question on the tip of his tongue, "What happened?" You stared at him, baffled by the words and you shifted again as you winced but still managed to say, "I got hurt," he gave you a look that clearly showed his frustration with the answer before he shook his head and rephrased. He met your eyes as he spoke, a sincerity in his voice that unsettled you, "I mean, I'se seen you do that dance a hundred times and you'se never done that before, what happened?" You scoffed and sunk into your seat as you stared at your swelling ankle. Like he cared. Why would he care about you? He liked dancers, people who were actually good looking dancers and everyone knew that wasn’t you. “I tripped, it happens,” you excused and this time he scoffed whilst moving to grab your hand again. He frowned and his eyes twinkled in the light and you felt your heart stop for just a second. “Not to you. You’se perfect at dancing,”

“Yeah right,”

“What’s that mean?” You avoided eye contact and began to pick at your leotard as you stayed in silence. Knowing he was waiting, you gave a small shrug and bit your lip, teeth digging in as hard as they could and you were worried you may bleed. Race moved his head slightly so he was in your eye sight and you huffed like a sulking child, “Just some stuff. I- There’s these girls-” Race sighed and you looked up at him, brows drawing together in confusion. He changed how he held your hand, grabbing it tightly in both of his and you placed your other hand on his in worry. Why was he looking at you all sad puppy like? “I’se heard what they was saying. It’s not true, you’se gotta know that! You are perfect, ya work hard, ya do anythink ya want, ya funny and sweet and kind and I loves you’se just the way ya are. Who cares ‘bout a little chub, I’se think it’s beautiful and cute,” you heard him laugh as your eyes went wide and your jaw dropped as you registered what he said. He meant as friends, right?

“Love? You, um, you said love? Did you know you said love?” He chuckled at that, moving slightly closer and reaching to wipe away any remainder of your tears whilst still holding your hand tightly. “Yeah, I‘se know. I loves ya,” you watch the smile falter as he glanced down and his shoulders tensed, “Would I, Uh, could I kiss you’se?” You grinned at how nervous he seemed, you made the Racer nervous. You couldn’t believe it. Deciding to mess with him a little, you shrug and pretend to think about it whilst pretending to not notice the growing smile and blush on his face. “Yeah, I think that’d be okay,” his grin matched yours quicker than you could process, loving and goofy. He shifted slightly and reached up to hold your cheeks before he leant in most of the way. You scoffed at the cheeky grin on his lips and he breathed out a laugh at that. “Just kiss me you idiot,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he stroked his thumb across your cheek. You could see the mischief swirling amongst the blue and you rolled your eyes.

“Oh confident now, are we?” With that, you pressed your lips to his and you couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss when you heard the surprised noise from him. Slowly he melted into the kiss, one hand moving to your neck as yours went to his hair, fingers twirling the curls. After a little while, you pulled back from Race and you couldn’t help but giggle at the way he chased your lips. You were both so caught up in each other, you didn’t notice your teacher walk through the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry- Wait, are you two-? Finally!”

[captaincravatthecapricious]

No Way To Get Help

@malevon​

Well... this was supposed to be about Jon, but it's about Tim instead. Under the wreckage of the wax museum, Tim isn't dead.

cw nausea, depression, mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation (canon typical levels for Tim end of season 3), ambiguous mentions of injury, hospitals

Four more fics to go, and only one more prompt to send in, so if you have something in mind, get it in quick! I hope you know the drill by now!  Thanks @celosiaa​ for the wonderful card!

The silence is deafening.  Or would be if Tim wasn’t partially deaf already.  He hadn’t been wearing his hearing aids.  What would have been the point?  He knows the plan.  Daisy and Basira are ….were?  Hardly chatty.  He didn’t?  Doesn’t?  Didn’t?  Want to hear a single word that Jon had to say.  

God.  Tenses.  

Is anyone still alive?  Is it just him?  

He should clarify.  The silence is deafening after the explosion.  After the circus music that was somehow louder, possibly because it was at least partly inside his head.  There is probably the sound of rubble settling, and the groaning of burning building, and rushing emergency vehicles.  But… he can’t hear a goddamn thing.  Just that eternal ringing in his ears.  He has never been sure if that was tinnitus or just what silence sounds like.  Never thought it worth asking after he learned that people with tinnitus have higher rates of suicide.  And… well… if this stupid plan was nothing else, wasn’t it just some grand suicide scheme?  

One that looks to have spectacularly failed.  

Just him… probably alone.  In the dark.  

Then again, if he’s alive, maybe the others are too?  Does he want that?  

If he’s honest, he would rather just be dead.  

Not that that is a revelation.  

Then again, he could be dead in a minute.  

He can’t feel his legs.  Well… he can.  He wishes he couldn’t.  He wishes he couldn’t feel anything.  There is so much pain that it just… it’s too much for him to even register as pain anymore.  He just feels… cold and crushed.  Probably shock because there are actual fires burning around him.  He can smell it.  The burning plaster and plastic and wood and smoldering concrete… if that is even a thing?  Thick air.  He’s coughing.  And that hurts more.  

He can’t hear it, however.  

He can’t hear anything but that goddamn ringing in his ears.  

He thinks he might be crying.  

He can’t hear his own heaving sobs.  

Just that high-pitched whine of utter silence.  

Do you know what that sound is, highness?  Those are the shrieking eels…

That’s it.  

The only words his brain can find, as he grows ever more numb.  He has no doubt that darkness is eating at his vision, or would be if there was anything but darkness around him. 

Not even the words from the book.  Lines from the movie.   Which isn’t a bad thing…  He doesn’t even know his own feelings about his favorite book and his favorite movie.  

(That’s not true.  He was always a fan of the movie, but… he and Danny read the book to each other so often…  He has the work paperback in the pocket of his bomber jacket.  Wanted to die with it.  Ideally buried with it, but it’s not like he left a note.  Aside from that damn tape).  

The whine continues.  He doesn’t know how long it’s been.  

 Do you know what that sound is, highness?  Those are the shrieking eels…

That had been the first thing he had thought of when he first heard the worms.  

He curses the worms to the darkness.  If it hadn’t been for them… he could have lived in blissful ignorance about the darker nature of his job… well to some degree.  Sasha would still be here.  Jon wouldn’t have….  FUCK.  He doesn’t want to think about Jon while he’s willing himself out of existence.  But….

But Jon.  That little fucking moron.  Who he HATES.  Who he wants to hate.  

Does he hate Jon?  

Is Jon even still alive?  

If he’s dead, does he want to keep hating a dead man?  One who …wasn’t any worse than him.  

Which isn’t to say blameless, or not a twat at times….  But.  But not a monster.  And Tim can’t really blame him for not trusting anyone.  

Jon… was in the wrong, but so was Tim.  They have both been utter dicks.  Which has always been Tim’s least favorite plot.  God back in publishing… a Lifetime ago… he always hated books that hinged on characters fighting, not talking things out, not Understanding and that rift causing endless misery.  Has he really become something that he hated… still hates with every fiber of his being.  The number of books that set his teeth on edge from the first misunderstanding.  He actually hates most Rom Coms for that reason.  Which… surprised just about everyone he’s dated.  

He possibly groans.  He isn’t thinking clearly.  

He can’t hear himself groan.  

He really should give it up, and let himself pass out.  He hurts.  He’s tired.  If he wakes up… that’s a problem for later.  If he quietly slips away… well… maybe he’ll see Danny there.  Maybe he’ll see Sasha.  Hell, maybe if he sees Jon there, they can work something out.  If there is an afterlife… they’ll have all the time in the world.  (Or rather all the time in the next world).  And if not… well.  Eternal rest sounds pretty damn good.  

…But.  But Jon.  If Jon is alive down here… He should be close.  

And… Tim can’t let him die alone under this building.  He can’t lose someone else to the Circus while he sits idly by.  And Damn it, maybe he doesn’t want to meet Jon in the afterlife just yet, maybe he wants a break?  (And maybe he just loves him too much to completely give up on him… even though he knows he is far too late.  Too many bridges burned.  “We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.”  A line from Jon’s favorite play.)

Tim tries to move his fingertips.  And almost screams.  It hurts.  It hurts.  It hurts.  

He thinks he might scream.  But he can’t hear a sound.  

He braces himself and tries again.  Stretching his arms out as wide as he can.  Moving dust and ash and rubble.  He almost passes out.  Or maybe he does pass out.  Time has no meaning in this place.  

He finds a hand.  Cold.  And limp.  And his heart stops, first for fear that this is another mannequin.  Then for fear that this is all that is left of someone who was… could have been… is?  Something to Tim.  Everything to Tim.  

Tim thinks he might vomit.  

He feels out a little further as his head swims.  He feels the stretched and puckered skin of undoubtedly Jon’s right hand.  Unresponsive.  Possibly dead.  

Tim coughs.  Choking on the soot and heat and fumes in the air.  A massive weight both metaphorical and painfully tangible on all of him.  Aching pain breaking him into little shards, which turn right around and skewer him.  

Tim loses consciousness.  Old and cracked and dry paperback of The Princess Bride in his pocket.  Limp hand of his… friend? In his hand.  

Tim wakes up in hospital.  

His lungs hurt.  And everything feels distant and fuzzy.  Probably being pumped through with a lot of painkillers.  Probably for the best, or he might be more upset for waking up.  He wants to ask after Jon… but he can’t get his mouth to open.  

And suddenly he’s thinking about Westley.  Mostly dead.  Revived.  Head flopping around on his neck.  Danny had lost his shit laughing at that… it always made Tim feel sick after… everything.  The imitation of life… couldn’t quite shake the image of… that night.  Christ if he was on less drugs, he would probably puke.  

He would shake his head if he could move. 

“You just shook your head, that doesn’t make you happy?”

He is also struck by the thought that this is Kill Bill in reverse.  Nearly died getting his revenge, and then ending up in a coma.  (He watched those movies on Bad days.  When he downs enough whiskey to drown a horse.  He can’t say he really remembers much of them, but they were always cathartic.)  

He tries to look at his feet.  But he can’t even lift his head.  

He closes his eyes again.  

When he opens them, he sees Martin.  Worn and tired.  Looking older than ever, more haggard than Jon.  

Shit!  Jon.  Is Jon here?  Is he dead?  

He still can’t move.  

He looks at Martin again.  Martin is… talking?  Tim can’t make out anything.  Just the dull murmur of meaningless sound.  

…But.  

Martin is holding a book.  

A sooty, singed book.  

Martin sitting between two hospital beds, holding Tim’s old copy of The Princess Bride, facing Tim presumably so if Tim were to come around, Tim could read his lips.  

“I said, ‘What do you mean, “Westley dies”?  You mean dies?

My father nodded.  ‘Prince Humperdink kills him.’

‘He’s only faking though, right?’  

My father shook his head, closed the book all the way.

‘Aw shit,’ I said and I started to cry.  

‘I’m sorry,’ my father said.  ‘I’ll leave you alone,’ and he left me.”

Martin is also crying.  Just like Billy in the book.  

“’Who gets Humperdinck?’” Tim whispers.  Painfully aware of how dry his throat is.  It’s no more than a cracked whisper.  

And then he’s coughing.  

He can barely hear himself, but he swears he is coughing out a lung.  

Martin has dropped the book.  Staring in wide-eyed shock for a moment, before yelling something.  Scrambling up.  Probably getting a doctor.  Tim wishes he hadn’t gone.  

He looks are where Martin had been, but ends up getting a good look at the bed next to him.  And sees one, very still and very pale Jonathan Sims.  Very bandaged, and frighteningly still.  Tim can’t see breathing.  

And then he’s being poked and prodded and tested and Martin is talking to him.  And everything hurts.  Until it doesn’t and he’s lying still and Martin is smoothing his hair down and holding his hand and telling him that he’s been unconscious for a month.  That Jon is all but brain dead.  That Elias is in police custody.  

By the time Jon wakes up, five months later, Tim has decided to give him another chance, he and Martin are sharing a flat, there is another room ever hopeful that Jon will want to join then if- no, when he wakes up.  

Also.  Jon’s hair may or may not be dyed green.  

Maybe.  

No, Tim has no idea what everyone is looking at him like that for.  

[seasonsofeverlark]

Fall-ing In Love

Author: @mandelion82​

Prompt:  Fall-ing in love. Picture this on a walk on an Autumn day. Chilly day. The leaves have changed, breathing it in… you notice how a dock is still out in the water. You stand on it breathing in that air… until a dog barks which startles you and you fall in. Boy walking the dog jumps into the semi chilly water to save you. He takes you to his house to warm up….he’s cute, btw. Hope this is something you can work with. [submitted by @katnissandpeeta125​]  

Rating: T (to be safe, for mentions of alcohol) 

Author’s Note: Canadian!Peeta x American!Katniss, meet-cute. Some of the places are real, including, of course, Manitoba, Winnipeg and Tim Hortons. Some places (and things) are made-up, obviously, so don’t bust me, my Canadian friends. I tried to be as accurate as I could on things I didn’t make up, lol. So, this was getting much too long for a prompt fic, but I am considering continuing it on A03 in the near future. Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for the prompt, @katnissandpeeta125​!      

______________

It was October 9th, and the Everdeens‒Katniss, her sister, Primrose, and their mother‒were currently making the drive up to Manitoba, Canada from their home in Grand Forks, North Dakota. They were traveling to visit their Uncle Haymitch for Canadian Thanksgiving, which fell this year on October 12th.  

Katniss and Prim’s mother’s brother was a solitary man, an alcoholic grump, to put it bluntly, who had no real interest in associating with anyone as far as Katniss knew. But her mother had decreed they should all get to know him better. Katniss knew that her motivation lay in regret, regret that she’d lost touch with him after he moved to Canada, and other things…  And now that her husband had passed, and with Haymitch being her only living older relative, she wanted them all to forge a closer relationship with the man. 

Good luck to them.  

Initially, her mother had tried to get Haymitch to visit them in the US, but he’d refused, saying he didn’t plan on leaving his home, ever.  Stubborn as a mule.  And so, her mother had suggested they visit him. Truth be told, Katniss was shocked that old Haymitch had agreed, and from the sounds of it, it had taken some arm-twisting. But, in the end, Haymitch had welcomed them to stay in his house, saying his casa was their casa. He’d said it was because he couldn’t turn away family, but Katniss suspected it had a lot to do with her mother offering to cook a large meal for him.  

Haymitch Abernathy was basically a hermit, a hermit with a very nice, very large home‒he lived in a rustic, spacious log and stone cabin on Lake Victor in the small town of Panem, just outside of Winnipeg. The trip to see him had somehow turned into a three-week ordeal, their mother having decided they might as well make a vacation out of it.  

Katniss had no idea how this was going to work. Her mother had promised Haymitch they wouldn’t be a burden, that he’d barely know they were there. Given how big his home appeared in photos, that might be possible, if it weren’t for her mother’s lofty ideals of getting to know him better. Katniss could just picture it:  her mother waiting on her uncle hand-and-foot, trying to get them all to bond, organizing family game nights, and consequently, Uncle Haymitch fighting the urge to jump out the window. Well, he might like the being waited on part.  

The reason they could take such a long trip was that their mother had her own business she could take anywhere; Prim attended one of those year-round high schools with the unusual breaks, and as for twenty-one-year-old Katniss, she’d long since graduated.  

Katniss had been accepted to a state university in North Dakota, but admittedly, she was torn about actually attending. For one, the tuition and fees were outrageous; it had seemed like a waste of money they didn’t have. On top of that, she hadn’t qualified for financial aid, and so, she’d been working her butt off for nearly two years to save up enough to get started. Her mom, and even sixteen-year-old Prim, had been scrimping and saving in order for her to go to college, too. It brought Katniss endless guilt, even more upon the realization that she was no longer certain it was what she wanted.  

She didn’t really know what she wanted to study or do with her life; all she knew was that she wanted to take care of her family and see Prim succeed. When their mother shut down for nearly six months after their father died, Katniss had feared everything would fall apart. She didn’t know how to reach her mother, and she hadn’t been prepared to basically become her sister’s caretaker at seventeen. She loved Prim; in fact, Prim was the only person in the living world she was sure she loved, but it had been nearly too much. They’d managed, though, as always.  

Now, Prim had dreams of becoming a doctor. She had real potential, too. Medical school was crazy-expensive, though, and Katniss wondered if perhaps her college money would be better invested in helping Prim reach her goal. Katniss was more of the worker bee, anyway. She’d been thinking about this a lot on their drive up, that is when Prim wasn’t prodding her into singing along with the radio (because she loved her voice) and playing car games. 

The Everdeens had taken an alternative route to Canada because Prim had expressed interest in visiting the International Peace Garden. When they arrived at the border, a friendly guard with an accent not too dissimilar from Katniss and Prim’s mother greeted them. He went about his routine check and sent them on their way with no issue, and they entered their neighbor to the north.  

Although they’d gone out of their way quite a bit, for Katniss, it was worth it to see Prim’s face as they walked through the floral (fortunately still in bloom) grounds of the Peace Garden. They toured the Sunken Garden and saw the Promise of Peace sculpture, a set of hands releasing a dove, which Prim loved and had to snap selfies of herself by, along with the entire family. They moved on to the North American Game Warden Museum, which Katniss found interesting, and then to the floral clock, another favorite of Prim’s. After that, they had a small picnic in the picnic area and finished off their tour.  

______________

Because of the detour, the Everdeens didn’t arrive at Haymitch’s place until well after three. Haymitch’s wooden home was adjacent to the serene blue-green Lake Victor, surrounded by tall evergreen trees and a mix of pine, balsam, ash, and poplar, whose leaves had transformed into a palette of brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges. Upon first inspection, it seemed to be the perfect escape into nature.  

When they pulled up, Katniss saw Haymitch exiting his home and approaching their car.  

“Well, there they are,” greeted her old uncle in his still-Americanized accent. He was obviously trying to sound peppy, but Katniss could tell he was skeptical about all this. So was she.  

Shutting her driver’s side car door, “Hello, Haymitch,” her mother greeted him with a smile. She stepped forward, reaching out for him. Haymitch met her halfway and gave her a squeeze. He also hugged Prim, then reluctantly turned to Katniss.  

There was no need to bother with it or mince words‒they both knew the other wasn’t a hugger, and they accepted that. Haymitch forced himself with his sister and with Prim, and as for Katniss, she didn’t really like being touched by anyone except Prim, and previously, her father. 

“How ya doing, sweetheart?” Haymitch asked, keeping his distance as if she was something venomous. Okay by her.       

“Fine, Haymitch,” she replied. “And you?” 

“Just dandy. Uh,” he turned back to the other two, “why don’t y’all come in,” he offered, motioning with his hand toward the house. They followed him inside, only to stand in the foyer for several awkward moments before Haymitch offered them the grand tour.  

The place was indeed large, with high ceilings supported by long, thick logs and massive windows, which could definitely use a dusting but beheld incredible views just the same. It was refreshingly uncluttered, aside from a substantial collection of alcohol behind his bar and in the liquor cabinet. Surprise, surprise.  Haymitch warned the girls about sneaking some of his liquor, but that was neither here nor there. Katniss had never touched the stuff in her life and didn’t plan to start now, and Prim would never do such a thing. Always sweet as peaches, she’d never even gone through a rebellious teenage phase.

Next, Haymitch showed them to their rooms‒there were enough for all of them to have one to themselves. Katniss took the smallest guest room, giving her mother the largest and her sister the one with the best view. Katniss didn’t plan on staying in the house much, anyway. 

After that, her mother got right to work, settling in and cleaning up around Haymitch’s place before announcing she was going to start dinner. Haymitch grumbled a little, but ultimately, didn’t stop her, especially with the promise of food hanging in the air. And while his sister made herself at home, Haymitch opted for taking a bottle of whiskey and a glass to his favorite chair.  

______________

After a big meal and a little conversation, the Everdeens retired to their respective rooms. Katniss assumed her mother would be reading and Prim would be listening to music or on her phone if she didn’t lose signal, and as for Katniss, she was planning to go out tomorrow morning, so she prepared her bag and went to sleep.  

That night, Katniss dreamt of her father. She hadn’t done so in a long time, but being in this place brought him readily to mind. It was the woods. Being in the woods reminded her so much of him. She wasn’t sure how to feel about her mind suddenly being flooded with thoughts of her dad. On the one hand, her memories of him were cherished, but on the other, sometimes forgetting was easier… 

______________

In the still of morning, just as the sun peeked out over the horizon, Katniss slipped out of bed. The house was peacefully quiet, aside from the typical early morning noises emanating from the wilderness outside. She dressed quickly and took the stairs as softly as possible, avoiding the couple of spots she’d discovered creaked loudly. She walked into the wide-open living room and was surprised to find Haymitch already awake, seated in his green overstuffed chair with his feet propped up on the coffee table, staring out the windows. He didn’t even turn to look at her when he said, “Good mornin’.”  

“Good morning,” she muttered back, stepping into her boots she’d left by the door. She laced them up and grabbed her father’s old, leather hunting jacket.  

“Going out?” he asked in a gruff, groggy tone.   

Katniss shrugged on the jacket. She could tell by the air that slipped in through the cracks of the windows upstairs that it was chilly out, but she had on layers, so she should stay warm enough.  

“Yeah,” she said, hiking her bag up onto her shoulder.   

Katniss expected her uncle to question where she was going (she didn’t really know where) and when she’d be back (she didn’t know that, either) as her mother and Prim would, but all he said was, “There’s some bear spray on the table. Take it with you.” 

She could get used to this, decided Katniss. A quick verbal exchange or, even better, none. She lightly pressed her lips together and thanked her uncle as she snatched the canister of deterrent from off the table and stuck it in her pants pocket. And she went outside.    

It was, indeed, chilly out, but not the unpleasant kind that cuts straight through you to the bone. Katniss observed the morning mist rising on the water and breathed in the perfect scent of trees and distant mountain air. Again, she was reminded of her father. Despite the bittersweet nostalgia, getting back to nature was always a good thing for Katniss. Maybe this place was a good idea after all.  Sticking her hands in the pockets of her jacket, she trudged off, traveling the short distance down to the lake.  

She hadn’t gone far when she noticed a long, wooden dock. She stepped onto the dock and took the walk all the way to the end. The tips of her boots just barely hung over the edge. Around her, it was almost completely silent, aside from the occasional honk of the geese flying in formation overhead. Katniss looked up, then down and out across the reflective surface of the water, now illuminated by the rising sun casting its soft pink and yellow glow. A pair of loons swam by, barely even noticing or caring about her. They must be used to people, she surmised. Not like this was a hopping tourist spot, but clearly, people lived here as she’d noticed several other large homes around.  

Katniss took in the rest of her surroundings visually, then shut her eyes and breathed in deep. It was definitely Fall. Fall had that exact same smell every year whether in the United States or Canada, and once again, it was one she so closely linked with her father.  

As she stood on the edge of the dock, a loud bark pierced the morning stillness. It was so high-pitched, so sudden, and so close that Katniss lost her balance, opening her eyes just in time to go careening into the lake. She was cold and wet, and it took her a moment to realize what had just happened and to get her bearings. By the time she did, a pair of strong arms were wrapped around her middle, pulling her back toward the dock. Somehow, she’d swum out a few yards in the wrong direction, probably disoriented by the shock of the surprisingly frigid-for-Fall water.   

But who had her around the waist?  

She was barely able to register the solid form of a guy before he hefted her onto the dock. Katniss got to her feet and took a couple of steps back, allowing him room to pull himself out of the water. She heard that unmistakable bark again and looked to see the dog (she assumed) that’d startled her swimming up behind the guy. The dog’s owner turned around and pulled it out of the water, setting it on the dock; it licked his face then trotted off toward land, giving her a cursory glance and a sniff along the way. Fortunately, it waited to pass by her before shaking out its thick, reddish-brown fur. 

It was only then that Katniss got a good look at her ‘rescuer.’  Standing at full medium height on the edge of the dock, she noticed he was broad-shouldered and stocky, with ashy blond hair that fell in damp waves across his forehead.  And very blue eyes. He was cute. Really cute, actually. Maybe the cutest guy she’d seen in a while, at least that she could recall right now. But maybe her brain was frozen from icy water. 

“Are you alright?” the guy asked sincerely.

“Y-yeah,” she mumbled, hugging herself as she involuntarily began to shiver. It hadn’t seemed very cold out, but of course, that’d all changed now that she was soaked through and the wind was hitting her. “Wh-why…did…y-you do that?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

The guy didn’t answer but, instead, grabbed his coat lying on the dock and strode over to her. With surprising flair, he whipped it around, draping it across her shoulders. She wanted to protest, but it was so cold, and his jacket was so warm that she couldn’t seem to form one. She shrugged it on, and he helped her slip her trembling arms through the holes. As if that wasn’t kind enough, he even zipped the jacket up for her. It felt like something an overly doting boyfriend would do, and despite her cheeks being practically frozen solid, she felt them heat up. 

And then, when he began brusquely rubbing her arms to create friction through his coat, she blushed even harder. A stranger was touching her‒she barely let her family do so‒in a practical yet affectionate manner, and she wasn’t even resisting… 

Katniss stared briefly down at her soggy boots, then raised her gray eyes to meet his blue ones. “Um, thanks. What about you?” she asked, referring to his lack of coat.  

He dropped his hands to his sides, giving her a small smile. “I’m fine.”    

Clearly, he wasn’t. His burnt orange sweater and khaki pants were saturated, and every few seconds or so, he’d shiver. He was obviously freezing but trying to hide it. A guy thing, she supposed.  

“Why did you do that?” she repeated her earlier question. “You didn’t need to do that. I was fine. I know how to swim.”  

Honestly, she wanted to rant at him. There was no reason for him to jump in; it made no sense at all, and now they were both soaked through.   

He shrugged, then embraced himself for warmth. “I didn’t know that. As for why, it was instinct. I just saw a person in trouble, and when a guy sees that, he’s gotta act.” 

So, he was just doing the decent thing any guy would do… Not any guys she knew. Maybe Canadian ones were different. 

“I’m Peeta,” he said, extending his hand to her. “Peeta Mellark.” 

“Katniss,” she replied, giving it a brief shake. “Everdeen,” she added hesitantly.  

He smiled at her. “Well, Katniss Everdeen, we, uh, probably shouldn’t stay out here, wet like this.” She was surprised he hadn’t said so sooner, and she was surprised neither of them had made any move to leave. “Where’d you say you were staying?” 

She eyed him suspiciously. “I didn’t.”  

“Well,” he exhaled, “if it’s far, maybe you better come to my place.”  

“What?” There was no way she was going off with a total stranger, to his house, no matter how cute or charismatic he was.  

“To get warmed up. It’s just over there.” He pointed, and she followed his finger. It was the house directly across the lake from Haymitch’s.

“It’s really not far to where I’m staying,” she said, not wanting to tell him exactly where.

“Yeah, but it’s a bit nippy, Katniss,” he persisted, briskly rubbing his own arms, “and being wet like that, you could catch your death of pneumonia, eh?” 

She narrowed her eyes slightly. “How do I know you won’t kill me?” 

Peeta smiled wider, revealing a pair of dimples. “Do I look dangerous?” 

She scrutinized him, his innocent little grin, those soft blue eyes crinkled up at the corners. “No, but appearances can be deceiving.” 

“Sure they can. But hey, I promise I won’t hurt ya.” He held up his hand in some kind of scouts’ honor symbol. “We Canadians are very friendly.” 

“It’s really not necessary, Peeta. You should go home and get yourself warm.” 

“Sorry. I would, Katniss, but Canadian hospitality dictates that I see you get warmed up, or at least get to the place you’re staying. I can tell you’re not from around here.”

Was that supposed to be an insult or simply an observation? Even if it was meant to be the former, he’d said it in such a polite manner that she couldn’t take it as such.  

Katniss heaved a sigh. “Okay.” She didn’t need it on her conscience if this nice guy got sick.  

“Good!” Peeta exclaimed, bouncing a little. She didn’t know whether from excitement over her agreement or trying to keep warm. Maybe a little of both. This got his dog excited, too, and it barked from beside him.  

“But, for your sake, I hope you’re harmless because I’ve got bear spray in my pocket.”  

Peeta raised a brow. “I see. Well then, I’d better be on my best behavior, huh? Cause that stuff’ll mess you up!” He grinned at her, and the corners of Katniss’s lips twitched in response.  

“Shall we go, then?” he suggested, motioning. Still being ultra polite, even though he had to be an icicle by now. She nodded.    

Why was she agreeing to this? Katniss wondered. Haymitch’s house was right over there. It wouldn’t take her that long to get there. Was she crazy?  

She didn’t have much time to ponder it, though, because Peeta was already gently leading her off, his hand ever so lightly brushing her back.   

______________

Peeta’s home was nearly as large as Haymitch’s and looked quite similar on the outside. Inside, it was structurally the same, yet completely different. He had art on the walls, a few sculptures, and hockey paraphernalia, the Winnipeg Jets. Overall, the place felt homier, warmer, and definitely more colorful.  

“It’s nice.” She was trying to be polite, though she knew she wasn’t anywhere near as polite as he was. “Do you live here alone?” she asked, glancing around for any signs of others. 

“Most of the time,” was his confusing response. He noticed her bewildered expression and gave a small chuckle. “Sometimes my parents come around, and one of my brothers stays here off and on.” 

Well, that didn’t clear things up much.  

“Long story.” He laughed. 

Clearly.     

“How old are you?” Katniss asked, not knowing where it came from. She hoped that wasn’t considered rude around these parts. 

He didn’t hesitate to answer. “25.” 

Peeta didn’t ask how old she was in turn, only smiled and led her upstairs. Katniss patted her pocket to make sure the canister was still there. Hopefully it still worked. But if Peeta was a killer, he was just about the nicest one she could imagine. Of course, wouldn’t that be the perfect crime?  

He twisted the knob and pushed open the second door on the left, explaining that it was his room. He stepped in, but Katniss lingered in the doorway while he went to his closet. He rummaged around a bit before pulling out a sweater and pair of sweatpants.  

“I’m sorry that this is all I have,” he said. “Not very fashionable, but it’s the smallest I own.”  

“It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t really care about fashion.” She didn’t, and she was already feeling much warmer. She thought to tell him she should really just go now, but Peeta was insistent, and so, she took the clothes and allowed him to lead her to a bathroom down the hall. “This is the nice one,” he said. “For guests. There are some towels in there. Feel free to use anything you need.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Once more, she nodded, and she stepped inside and locked the door.    

After dressing, Katniss left the bathroom. Peeta was waiting, leaning against the wall with a bag in his hand. “Here, a bag to put your wet clothes in,” he said. He thought of everything.  

It was only then that she caught his accent. Subtle yet noticeable, she heard it when he said certain words like bag, which he pronounced as a cross between ‘beg’ and ‘bayg.’ It wasn’t uncommon for people around her area and in nearby Minnesota to speak that way, so she hadn’t really thought about it, but she did now.  She thought the subtle difference in his speech to be kind of cute, actually.  

Peeta led her downstairs and asked her to wait on the couch. He still hadn’t changed himself, which she felt bad about. “I’ll be right back,” he said, dragging out the a in the word. “Then I’ll make you some tea.” 

“You don’t have‒” she began, but she stopped herself, knowing it was useless to argue. This Canadian stranger’s hospitality apparently knew no bounds.  

While he was changing, Katniss briefly wondered if she should just go, but that felt incredibly rude. He really had been so nice thus far, so she waited. 

He came back, dressed in a hockey jersey and jeans. His still slightly damp, wavy hair was slicked back in some kind of style now. It made him look less boyish, more manly, and she couldn’t deny, quite attractive. 

Peeta offered her tea once more, using his previous line about Canadian hospitality. She accepted and carefully watched him make it for her, so he didn’t slip anything in it.      

“You use that excuse about hospitality a lot,” she quipped.     

“S’not an excuse. It’s practically the law around these parts, sweetheart,” he said, handing her the tea. 

“Sweetheart? Another Canadianism?” She was joking, of course. She knew full well it wasn’t because Haymitch called her that all the time, and he was originally American. It had always seemed like a strange term to Katniss, though, one that only truly fit with couples who’d been married forever, and not even then for her. She was never planning on getting married.  

Then again, she kind of liked the sound of the word ‘sweetheart’ rolling off Peeta’s tongue…   

“Nah, that one’s just mine.” He winked at her, and in spite of how forward she thought him, she smiled ever so faintly over her mug. Then she blew lightly on the tea and took a tentative sip. Just right. 

She watched him prepare his own tea.  

“You don’t take sugar in your tea?” she asked, noticing he hadn’t added any to his cup.  

“Nah. I’m not much for sweet things. Drinks, anyway.” He winked at her again.  

Katniss pressed her lips together. Was he flirting with her?  

“Well, I like them. Sweet drinks,” she quickly added the second part. Peeta grinned at her clarification and took a seat on the couch with her, at the other end. She shifted in her spot, her back digging into the armrest. She was uncomfortable, yes, but not because she didn’t trust him. It was because of his looks and the scent coming from him and infused in the clothes she wore. Like cinnamon and dill.  

“So, you’re from the States?” Peeta asked, taking a sip, then setting his cup down on the coffee table. 

“Yes. How did you know?” 

“I can just tell. From the way you talk and your mannerisms.” 

Katniss picked at a loose thread on the side of his sweatpants. She wasn’t really good at conversation, and she didn’t know what to say next, until she caught sight of his dog over in the corner. “So, your dog…um, what breed is he or she?” 

“Oh, she’s a mutt.”  Peeta laughed. Katniss laughed a little, too. 

“Okay, but a mutt of what?” 

“Nova Scotia duck tolling retriever and lab.”  

Katniss nodded, even though she knew nothing about either type of dog, particularly the first. “I see. What’s her name?” 

“Biscuit.” 

“Biscuit. Really?”    

“What?” He smirked. 

“Well, it’s just…a little generic, isn’t it?” 

“Generic, huh?” Peeta chuckled. “Well, I didn’t name her. My brother did. Used to be his dog, but he found out his wife’s allergic. He was gonna have to give her up, so I took her.” 

“That was nice of you.” 

“I s’pose.” He shrugged. “Figured he could at least see Biscuit this way. I call her Cookie most of the time, though, because that’s what a biscuit is here. My brother’s into American slang,” he explained.     

“I see. Well, it’s…cute.”  

Peeta smiled.  

They talked a while longer, about basic things mainly, and after some time, Peeta cleared his throat. “So, Katniss, I was wondering…now that we’re dry, would you like to have some breakfast with me?”

“Uh…” 

“If you haven’t had any, and you’re hungry, that is.” 

“Well…” 

“I would cook for you, Katniss. I’m a decent cook, but I don’t have much in the house right now. Wasn’t expecting company.” Company. Meaning, the klutzy girl he’d fished out of the lake then dragged home to make sure she got dry and warm, all out of the goodness of his heart.  

“So, I was thinking I could take you out somewhere. Would you allow it?”  

She should turn him down, say she needs to go or that her family is expecting her. Speaking of which, her family…she’d almost forgotten about them. They probably were wondering what happened to her.

“You don’t need to do that,” she said, rather regrettably.     

“Please, Katniss. I’d really like to make it up to you. It was Cookie’s fault you fell in the lake.” 

Peeta put on a smile, and it was so bright and beautiful and hopeful that she hated to wipe it away by saying no.  

“Well…I…should check in with my family first.” 

“So, you’ll allow it?” he asked, grinning like mad. 

“Yeah,” she smiled back, “I’ll allow it.”  

She might as well. If the guy was going to kill her or attack her, he would have done it by now, wouldn’t he? She shook her head at her own thoughts.  

Then, another popped in.   

“Hey, do you have Tim Hortons?” 

Peeta chuckled. “Oh, you like Timmies, eh?” 

“Yeah, I like the timbits.” 

“A lot of Americans do, but let me tell you a secret…” He leaned across the couch, not close enough to touch her but enough that she could see the sparkle in his eyes and feel his breath against her face. “They’re much better here than in the States.” 

Katniss smirked. “I see.”     

“No offense to you guys, of course. And to answer your question, we do have Timmies, but it’s all the way in Winnipeg. I don’t mind taking you there, but would your family miss you?” He was giving her that dimpled grin again.  

Katniss laughed, a little awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, maybe someplace closer?” 

“I know just the place. A local place. Better than Timmies, too.” 

“Okay. Well, I should, uh…”  She rose from the couch, and he bolted upright at the same time. Probably’d been taught it was good manners. “Get back.” 

“May I walk you?” he asked.  

“Uh…” She hesitated. How would it look if she came strolling back to Haymitch’s house with a guy? Then again, how was it going to look when she told her family she was planning to go out for breakfast with the cute Canadian stranger across the lake? She couldn’t believe she was going to have breakfast with a cute Canadian stranger she just met…    

But she actually wanted to go.    

Katniss let Peeta walk her most of the way back to Haymitch’s then exchanged numbers and told him she’d meet him in twenty minutes at the dock. She figured she could ask Haymitch about him. It might be embarrassing, but she needed to find out a bit more information before going somewhere with him. As for her number, well, she couldn’t believe she’d given him that, but at least it gave her the option of blowing him off without in-person contact if she needed to. Then, if worse came to worse and he kept trying to contact her, she could always shut her phone off for the duration of the trip‒she barely used it, anyway‒and then she could get a new number back home… 

______________

When Katniss returned, Haymitch’s place was alive and filled with noise. Prim’s singing reverberated off the rafters, and her mother and Haymitch were bickering like (most) siblings do about some nonsense.  

“Katniss, there you are,” her mother exclaimed when she saw her, sounding a bit flustered. “Where were you?”  

“I sent the bear spray with her,” Haymitch declared, throwing his hands up as if he expected to be blamed and to say it wasn’t his fault.  

As for Katniss, she wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want to say she was at some guy’s house, nor explain why she was wearing his clothes and carrying her damp ones in a bag.   

“I went out for a walk,” she opted for. The three all turned toward her, examining her curiously.  

“Katniss, what are you wearing?” asked her mother.

Great.

Well, she’d known that was coming. She should have tried to sneak in the back.

“Yeah,” Prim chimed in, “why are you wearing a sweater about three sizes too big for you that isn’t even yours, huh?!”

Might as well rip off the bandaid now. And so, she told the story…  

“Oh, how romantic!” gushed Prim when she’d finished.  

Their mother was staring at her while haphazardly wiping down the table for the third time, and Haymitch looked bored.    

“It wasn’t romantic at all; it was stupid,” Katnis corrected, earning a disapproving look from Prim. “I was right off the dock, and I can swim, as you know, but this guy just jumped in after me. He said something about Canadian hospitality and how he just reacted.”   

“What’d you say this guy’s name was?” asked Haymitch.  

“Peeta. Peeta Mellark. He’s your neighbor.”  

Realization began to dawn on Haymitch’s face. 

“And where’d you say he lived?” 

“Right across the lake,” Katniss answered. “You know him?” 

Haymitch stroked his stubbled chin, and his mouth curled up. “Oh yeah, the boy across the lake. Yeah, I know him. Nice kid. Bakes good bread.” 

“He baked bread for you?” 

“Yeah, when I moved in. Said he was bein’ neighborly.” 

Katniss smiled to herself. Yeah, that sounded like the Peeta she’d met… 

“Wait, what happened after?” Prim interjected. “Are you wearing his clothes?! Did you go to his place?!” Her voice was coming out in squeals; she was getting entirely too excited about the whole thing.  

Katniss sighed. “Yeah. I wasn’t going to, but he was insistent that I go to his place to dry off and warm up,  and I had that bear spray in my pocket, so I figured if he turned out to be a psycho I could use that or kick him in the groin and run.” 

Prim had the widest grin on her face now. “Oh, so he took you back to his place to ‘warm up,’ huh?” Prim used air quotes for the last part.  

“Don’t you dare use the air quotes, Primrose!” Clearly, her sister had been reading those ‘romantic’ novels again. “Nothing happened, Prim.” She was directing that statement at everyone, though. “Peeta gave me some dry clothes to wear, a warm drink; we talked a little, and that was it.” 

There was a group head bob.  

“And…well, he invited me to breakfast.” 

Katniss ignored her sister’s exclamation that she was going on a date and stormed up the stairs to her room, well, the room she was using. While trying to decide what to wear on her not-a-date, she considered the whole thing…  

Was this worth so much harassment? Katniss wasn’t sure, but she liked Peeta Mellark. She liked him a lot. As a matter of fact, if these were more normal circumstances…if she wasn’t in a foreign country, if she hadn’t known this guy for no more than two hours, and most importantly, if she was a completely different girl, she might say there was a chance she could be falling for Peeta…  

But no, it wasn’t possible. Not her. Not so soon. Not ever, really. Katniss Everdeen refused to fall in love or get married. She’d long since decided it wasn’t for her, that she would never go through what her mother did. She rejected the notion, altogether, of letting herself feel so much for another person that she would practically stop living if she lost them.  

But the feeling Peeta gave her today, it made her almost…hopeful. It made her wonder how good it could be… Still, she refused to succumb to it. She would go to breakfast with the Canadian boy across the lake; she would enjoy her time with him, and then she’d tuck the nice memory away for safekeeping. That would be the end of it.

[introvertguide]

Star Wars (1977); AFI #13

In honor of May 4th and the original movie that started it all, the group reviewed Star Wars (1977). Nominated for 10 Academy Awards and winning 6 with one extra special achievement award for Sound, this is perhaps the most highly decorated science fiction movie of all time. The special effects and the music were especially moving making the Star Wars experience something amazing to behold. I was lucky enough to see one of the re-releases in the theatre back in the mid 80s. In fact, I might well have seen the film 100 times over my life. The music might be the most well known soundtrack globally. With inflation, this is the 4th highest grossing film of all time. It is truly a fantastic work and I would like to now spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it. Let me start with the usual:

SPOILER WARNING!!! I DON'T THINK THERE ARE MANY WHO HAVE NOT SEEN THE FILM, BUT FOR THOSE FEW THAT DON'T KNOW, I AM GOING TO RUIN THE PLOT!!! STOP NOW AND GO WATCH IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY!!!

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Amid a galactic civil war, Rebel Alliance spies have stolen plans to the Galactic Empire's Death Star, a massive space station capable of destroying an entire planet. Imperial Senator Princess Leia of Alderaan (Carrie Fisher), secretly one of the Rebellion's leaders, has obtained its schematics (this entire effort was originally a throwaway concept but was completely fleshed out in Rogue One almost 40 years later) , but her starship is intercepted by an Imperial Star Destroyer under the command of the ruthless Darth Vader (acted by David Prowse and voiced by James Earl Jones). The movie is just starting and the odds against the rebels are shown by the scale of the two ships. Before she is captured, Leia hides the plans in the memory of an astromech droid called R2-D2 (Kenny Baker), who flees in an escape pod to the desert planet Tatooine accompanied by protocol droid C-3PO (Anthony Daniels).

The droids are captured by Jawa traders (little shiny eyed beings who are now meme legends), who sell them to moisture farmers Owen and Beru Lars and their nephew Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill). While Luke is cleaning R2-D2, part of a holographic recording of Leia starts playing a message for Obi-Wan Kenobi where she requests his help ("Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope!"). Later, after Luke finds R2-D2 missing, he is attacked by scavenging Sand People while searching for him, but is rescued by elderly hermit "Old Ben" Kenobi (Sir Alec Guinness), an acquaintance of Luke's, who reveals that "Obi-Wan" is his true name. Obi-Wan tells Luke of his days as one of the Jedi Knights, the former peacekeepers of the Galactic Republic who drew mystical abilities from a metaphysical energy field known as "the Force", but were ultimately hunted to near-extinction by the Empire. Luke learns that his father fought alongside Obi-Wan as a Jedi Knight during the Clone Wars (another throwaway concept that was eventually fleshed out) until Vader, Obi-Wan's former pupil, turned to the dark side of the Force and murdered him. Obi-Wan presents Luke with his father's old lightsaber, the signature weapon of Jedi Knights. The connection between Darth Vader and Luke's father is explored in depth during the next eight films.

R2-D2 plays Leia's full message, in which she begs Obi-Wan to take the Death Star plans to her home planet of Alderaan and give them to her father, a fellow veteran, for analysis. Although Luke initially declines Obi-Wan's offer to accompany him to Alderaan and learn the ways of the Force, he is left with no choice after discovering that Imperial stormtroopers have killed his aunt and uncle and destroyed their farm in their search for the droids (cue the Academy and Grammy Award winning theme music composed by John Williams). Traveling to a cantina in Mos Eisley to search for transport, Luke and Obi-Wan hire Han Solo (Harrison Ford), a smuggler with a price on his head due to his debt to local mobster Jabba the Hutt. Pursued by stormtroopers, Obi-Wan, Luke, R2-D2 and C-3PO flee Tatooine with Han and his Wookiee co-pilot Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew) on their ship the Millennium Falcon. As they reach the planet's orbit, two Star Destroyers try to intercept them, but Han is able to jump to hyperspace by reaching lightspeed.

Before the Falcon can reach Alderaan, Death Star commander Grand Moff Tarkin (Peter Cushing) interrogates Leia about the location of the Rebels's secret base, with the threat of destroying her home planet, and, when she answers that the base is on Dantooine, he orders Alderaan destroyed simply as a show of force. As the group arrives in the asteroid field that now stands in place of Alderaan, Han spots an Imperial TIE fighter and is taunted into chasing it and shooting it down, allowing the Falcon to be captured by the space station's tractor beam. Inside the Death Star, Obi-Wan attempts to disable the tractor beam, and Luke persuades Han and Chewbacca to help him rescue Leia after discovering that she is scheduled to be executed. After disabling the tractor beam, Obi-Wan sacrifices his life in an epic lightsaber duel with Vader, allowing the rest of the group to escape the Death Star with Leia. Using a tracking device, the Empire tracks the Falcon to the hidden Rebel base.

Leia's schematics reveal a hidden weakness in the Death Star's thermal exhaust port, which could allow the Rebels to trigger a chain reaction in its main reactor with a precise torpedo strike. While Han abandons the Rebels after collecting his reward for rescuing Leia, Luke joins their starfighter squadron in a desperate attack against the approaching Death Star. In the ensuing battle, the Rebels suffer heavy losses as Vader leads a squadron of TIE fighters against them, but Han unexpectedly returns to aid them in the Falcon, narrowly managing to save Luke before Vader can shoot him down. Guided by the disembodied voice of Obi-Wan's spirit, Luke turns off his targeting computer and uses the Force to aim his torpedoes into the exhaust port, destroying the Death Star moments before it fires on the Rebel base. In a triumphant ceremony at the base, Leia awards Luke and Han medals for their heroism.

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I want to explain the connection between this movie and the Joseph Campbell version of the hero's journey that so many people have pointed out. This journey starts out with a call to adventure that is refused and then forced (Luke is given an opportunity to leave, he declines, the death of his family pushes him forward, he leaves with his team). Campbell then predicts an initiation that involves meeting a woman and gaining weapons, a meeting with an incredible power, and an achievement of the hero's power (goes to star destroyer, meets Vader and loses Obi-Wan, gains power over force). The story ends with a refusal, a magic flight, a rescue from without, and a hero's return (Luke goes to attack the Death Star, Han refuses and then eventually saves him, and the day is saved so the heroes are rewarded). It is a story that is called the Monomyth and has been recognized in Greek myths that are thousands of years old. It is a good story that has been proven to work and it makes for one of the most enjoyable movies of all time.

There was some negative opinions of the film because it is such a simple old story that became extremely popular and film goers would no longer be interested in intelligent thinking movies. It is kind of the truth because blockbuster summer films are full of explosions. The highest grossing films since then have tended to be highly explosive action films. Films like Star Wars, Jaws, and Indiana Jones are a lot of fun, but they are not super deep. They are easy to understand at surface level, but they can also be interpreted to mean much more significant things. The choice of the viewer about whether the story has deep inner meaning or is just the Odyssey in space is personal and likely colors opinions about how good it is. Some people think it is stupid fun while others have actually formed religions around the idea of the force.

One thing is for certain, the formula worked amazingly well for a large group of people and this made movie producers want to copy it. This is what is generally called a watershed moment because the look of movies changed significantly. There were so many more space operas and they all had that worn post-apocalyptic look to them. Star Wars and Mad Max combined to give a different look of what futuristic was. There was advanced tech in some cases, but there was a scorched Earth that had run out of resources and people suffered. Think about how many movies and television shows there are that have come out since the 80s and combine industrial tech for space and distressed almost Western appearances for the planets. The movie changed the way many people see the future.

One thing that is inarguably great was the score. I am not going to try and describe it with words, I am just going to put links to the different themes here so you can hear for yourself:

Star Wars Main Theme (Full) - YouTube

Star Wars- The Imperial March (Darth Vader's Theme) - YouTube

Princess Leia's Theme - YouTube

Star Wars Episode IV A New Hope (1977) Soundtrack 11 Cantina Band - YouTube

This is somewhat strange for the AFI so I went back and checked, but I believe that this is the only film with a ranked villain (Darth Vader), hero (Han Solo), and theme song (Main Theme). Even if it is somewhat simplistic from some perspectives, the story and the songs and the sounds and the characters speak to those who watch it. Seeing the movie is an incredible experience and I envy those who get to see it for the first time.

I am a big fan of the original Star Wars trilogy and I could completely nerd out going over all of the little things throughout the movie, but this is not a deep dive but instead an overall review. So does it belong on the AFI top 100? Maybe more than any other movie. It is an epic tale that changed the way movies were made across multiple genres. We could probably look at all science fiction films and put them as before or after this one. It is an important piece of American film and (no matter what anyone thinks of the other Star Wars films or George Lucas) it is a masterpiece. Would I recommend it? I cannot say yes enough. It is part of my culture as a California movie nerd and understanding this film is understanding some of the basic knowledge I grew up with. All sticks are swung around like light sabers. If I say "Princess Leia hair," everyone around here knows exactly what I mean. If something is impossible but still needs to be done, we tell people to use the force. I have lived in the Bay Area for 20 years and I can still reference a location by how close it is to Skywalker Ranch were George Lucas worked on movies. Please check out this film and you will know why I am such a fan of movies.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 27- Hermits

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Its not often the hermits get a chance to all be together. And while they know battles lie ahead of them, they take this moment to enjoy being a family again. 

______________________________________

Etho appears beside TFC, causing the mineral mage to sputter out the coffee he was sipping. “I caught sight of xB a few islands down!” 

The hermits murmur with excitement and follow Etho to the shoreline. Sure enough, xB is hauling Hypno and Beef onto the warm sand. Hypno thumps his hand against his head, an attempt to escape his clogged ears which only fails for him. “Can’t we take a sky turtle next time?” 

“But it’s more fun to swim!” xB chuckles, and with a flick of his finned ears and his grey tail he runs to hug the hermits. “It’s so good to be back, guys! I can’t remember the last time all of us were on the island together.”

“You guys said something about taking back Lairyon?” Beef raises an eyebrow, looking over at Doc. “This isn’t your rebellious phase coming back, is it?”

“We’ll explain everything on the way. TFC has a lot to tell.” Etho wraps his arms around Hypno and xB, before disappearing into their shared shadow. 

The kipling laughs, shaking his head and looking around the island. “Some things never change. I see you haven’t fixed the hole in False’s forge either.” 

The hermits laugh, the entire group filled with life as they return to the guild hall. Joe and Cleo regale the missing hermits with the story of their victory at the Chimaera’s Championship. Their battles and challenges in the arena, facing off against the best guilds and winning the cup. They also tell Hypno, xB, and Beef about the heist, the discovery. 

“Why am I not surprised?” Hypno hums, tapping his fingers against the wood of the table that he sits down at. TFC pats the boys on the head, grabbing at Beef’s face and tapping his finger on a scar he sees. Beef shrinks away, concerned for a second, but the guildmaster only chuckles in response.

“I can’t wait to hear that story. It’s good to have you guys back.” TFC pats him on the back. “Treat you to a pint of beer next time we go to town.” 

“Let’s hear about this big job you’ve got planned for us first.” xB raises an eyebrow. In response, TFC rolls out his map.

The paper has changed since they first decided to go after Dolios and his creepy crystals. If there’s one thing an outlaw guild knows how to do, it’s to find new jobs through the grapevine. “Dolios has these tales silenced. I’ve heard of at least six other guilds being attacked or wiped out by unknown magic. Unfortunately, we’re too late to help them.” Team ZIT glance at one another, but focus on the here and now. “But there are places we can make a difference, as well as get information and better ourselves as a group.”

TFC motions to the Evernight forest. “An old friend of mine said there has been stories of familiars and companion animals going missing. No trace of where they went, except for a few patches of charred grass.”

“Charred, or drained?” Mumbo muses. To anyone, that sounds like the signs of a dragon ravaging Foresta, but after Mumbo’s duel with a draconic mage he knows dragons aren’t that dastardly. Nothing is as dastardly as Dolios. 

TFC grins, the newest member and the guildmaster sharing a knowing glint. “There’s also Shellor- which, I believe one of our hermits here knows quite intimately.” Etho gives a two fingered salute, rocking on the back legs of his chair until they fall out from under him, dumping him on the floor. Doc, Beef, and BDubs laugh at him. “There’s a few spies who’ve seen things Dolios has done, but the hard part will be earning their trust.” 

“Hmm, yeah. I don’t think I really left Shellor on a good note.” Etho grimaces. 

“That’ll be you, Keralis, and Grian’s problem. Meanwhile, we also need some help in the magical beings department. And if there’s one group that has mysterious, arcane magic on lock, it’s-”

“The fae!” Stress slams down her hands, a bright smile on her face. Iskall jolts upright and nearly hits the table again on the way down. “But where will we go? The fjords? The mountains? Heartbreak Trench?” 

“The flowerfruit fields. While you’re there, you and BDubs can gather ingredients that we’ve been running low on.” TFC glances at the map, running a finger over the lime green patch on the map. “We do have two confirmed crystal sightings, as well as Gildara. Edenswell seems to be falling ill to dark magic, and there’s reasonable belief that Dolios isn’t getting these massive rocks from nowhere- he’s using gems from the mines.” 

Heads peek over one another in an attempt to see the map. The charcoal diamonds and swirls. Gildara still sits untouched, and every hermit looks at one another. Do any of them want to return to the beginning of this all? Even to put an end to the dark magic plaguing the land, the memories of what they saw, what they experienced, still remain. 

Except for those that weren’t there. “I don’t think I’d mind checking out this hokey little town you guys keep talking about.” Beef grins, glancing over at Hypno and Wels. “We’ll have that place brimming with flaxen fields and green gardens all over again.” 

TFC grins, dipping his head in thanks to the returning hermits. He leans back, looking at the filled guild hall. “It’s been so long since we’ve all been together. If only it were on good terms.” 

“It feels good to return home.” xB ruffles his hair with a scaled hand, looking around for a second, then returning to speaking. “Even if it’s just for a short time, we should enjoy everyone being together again.” 

“What I’m hearing is we need to have our signature hermit celebrations.” Tango’s face splits into a devious smile. All around him, other hermits get a similar smirk on their face. Before TFC can agree to the idea, the hermits are gone. Cleo rushes to her wrecked pirate ship, hefting kegs of ale with the aid of Stress. Wels commandeers False’s forge to begin baking his favorite sweets, while Mumbo, Grian, and Iskall work together to fix the pennants, lanterns, and flags that decorate the guild hall in a myriad of colors. 

Tango snaps his fingers, and a small flame dances at his fingertips, jumping from his nails to the wicks of the lanterns. He ducks out of the way just in time to avoid being smacked in the face by a massive fish, tossed from the sea by xB and grabbed by Grian midair. The whirlpool mage disappears back underwater, back to hunting in the realm he was born in. 

The sun begins to inch towards the western horizon, turning the sky ablaze in a mosaic of pinks, oranges, yellows, and reds. A blue flag flutters against the ancient oak tree, catching on a branch. BDubs reaches out from his seat near the food platters, hardly even glancing away from the fresh baked goods, and with a flick of his wrist the branch bends away and the flag flies free again. 

False appears beside Wels, grabbing a brownie from the hot pan and sticking her tongue out at him as she passes. When Wels objects she’s quick to retort. “You used my forge. It’s rental payment, paladin.” 

Beef sets out plates, which are promptly ignored once Impulse and Zedaph have finished cooking the tuna xB caught. Music swells from a music box the creation of Ren, with the help of Mumbo, the upbeat songs written and composed with Joe and requests from the other hermits for their favorite tunes. 

The music thrums against the low roar of talking, the sound only broken by the common lilt of laughter. Hermits tell their stories, whether they be heard for the thousandth time or a new tale to tell. Beef causes Hypno to flush as he recounts the prank he pulled on the dream mage. Hypno turns bright red, quiet voice cracking over the tale. “I smelled like centaur shit for a week! It was awful, I’ll tell you that.” 

A raucous laugh erupts from that table, overshadowing the story of Mumbo’s duel to xB. “I swear on my life, I thought she was gonna swallow me whole. Or burn me like coal.” Mumbo shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever want to go up against a draconic mage ever again in my life.” 

“I’m surprised a kipling, a draconic mage, and a desert wizard were one team. That’s a strange group. I don’t think I’ve even met each of the others.” xB takes a bite of his fish, marinated in fresh fruits that Cub plucked from nearby islands. “But I’m sure that kipling gave you guys a run for your money. That magic she had… it’s rare beyond imagination. In kipling legend, it means a legendary hero is about to arise.” 

“He definitely kicked Ren’s ass. I don’t think I ever saw so much water moved at once.” Mumbo shakes his head, and stuffs a red jelly tart into his mouth. 

Keralis stands, tossing his woven hat from the brown curls of his hair, and inviting himself onto the open floor. “I love this song! Come on, my wonderful friends, let’s dance!” 

The setting sun casts a golden glow, bouncing off verdant leaves, twisting along the waves of the Ashioll sea. Laughter and music dance in the gilded light, playing in the curls of Zedaph’s hair as he joins Keralis. The two bumble around, drunk from Cleo’s ale but enjoying themselves immensely. 

Only one hermit wasn’t taking part in the festivities. Atop the canopy that protects the guild hall below, Xisuma watches as the stars appear in the sky. For a few moments in the day, the void and the sun share the space above. And he always thinks of the one person he knows he should forget by now. But he would’ve loved this, even if he’s constantly worrying about being caught doing something wrong. 

“Hey X, you gonna mope up there all day or join us?” Jevin grins below, one hand placed on his hip and the other waving Xisuma down. “Just because you’re a void mage doesn’t mean you have to a-void everything!” 

Xisuma rolls his eyes, but smiles beneath his mask. “After that terrible pun, how can I say no?”

[celosiaa]

ill for the holidays

Summary: “You know what I’ve just remembered?”

“What?”

“The Christmas you got ill while you were living in the archives,” Jon says, smile evident in his tone. “Do you remember?”

History repeats itself, often in cruel ways. This time, however-- Jon's love and care remain a wonderful constant, as Martin finds himself once again ill on Christmas.

CW: illness, discussion of dysphoria

(PS this timeline is not accurate, but imagine with me that the Prentiss incident happened later on in 2016, so Martin was stuck living in the archives over the holidays.  Also Martin is trans because I said so lol)

tag list: @captaincravatthecapricious @airborneglitter @kindakola

“Bless you, darling,” Jon calls softly from the doorway of their bedroom, two steaming mugs of tea in his hands.

“Ergh,” is all Martin has the energy to reply before he pitches forward again, stifling three more harsh sneezes into his elbow before leaning back against the pillows with a sigh.

“Bless you again,” Jon says, handing him one of the steaming mugs. “And happy Christmas.”

Smiling through watery eyes, Martin carefully takes the mug. Jon cannot help but smile wider when the band on his left ring finger glints in the morning sun—the ring they had both decided would count as their Christmas presents this year.

“Happy Christmas, dear,” he says hoarsely as Jon runs a hand through his hair, pressing down on the locks which stand on end in the wake of restless sleep. “And thank you for the tea.”

“It’s no trouble,” Jon whispers, bending over to kiss Martin’s too-hot forehead. “You should probably take these as well—”

Reaching toward the nightstand, he grabs the box of tissues and tosses them into Martin’s lap before crawling back into bed himself. As Jon rearranges the blanket around them, Martin immediately presses up against him and tips his head to rest on his bony shoulder—a sure sign that he’s not feeling well at all.

“I’m sorry you’re ill, love,” Jon hums lowly, pressing a kiss into Martin’s hair.

“No, I’m sorry,” Martin replies, pausing for a moment to sniff wetly. “I’m sorry I’m ill on our first married Christmas.”

Jon can’t help but huff out a laugh at this.

“You know what I’ve just remembered?”

“What?”

“The Christmas you got ill while you were living in the archives,” he says, smile evident in his tone. “Do you remember?”

“Oh god, I thought I would die of embarrassment,” Martin moans, turning his face to nuzzle into Jon’s shoulder.

“It wasn’t all that bad,” Jon argues, determined to let this be an amusing memory rather than an embarrassing one.

“That’s because you were nearly plastered the whole time,” Martin says, picking up his head to look at Jon, eyes sparkling good-naturedly.

“Wh—I was not plastered!” Jon sputters indignantly as Martin laughs.

“Nearly plastered. And I have a feeling you don’t remember it all anyway. So let me tell it to you.”

“Fine, fine,” Jon gives in with a smile, planting a kiss on Martin’s cheek. “Tell me everything, darling.”

---

(December 2016)

It’s holiday season at the Magnus Institute, and Tim has single-handedly decided that this will be their biggest celebration yet. Martin knows he’s doing it in a gesture of kindness; knows that the very existence of this massive extravaganza is an effort to bring the holidays to him, since he cannot leave the archives—yet he finds himself struggling through every smile, every drink, every song.

God, I’d give anything not to be ill right now.

His illness has been steadily worsening over the past few days, starting with a light dripping from his nose into his throat, lowering his voice a bit for the day. Not that he had particularly minded this—the voice dysphoria that often plagued him was quite pleased, in fact, but he could do without the soreness that tempted him into coughing near constantly. The days following had been spent battling ever-growing congestion—sinuses packed full, lungs not far behind. It was particularly irritating to him that this would happen now, during the holidays, after he hasn’t even seen the outside world for months. No one in the archives has been ill so far this season, so where could he have possibly picked this up?

Probably just a bit run down.

Something got me that didn’t hit whoever carried it in.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he leans back in his chair, watching the party around him as he desperately sniffs back the wetness threatening to drip from his nose. Of course, he had taken every possible precaution—loading himself fully with decongestants, cough suppressants, and fever-reducers, but it seems it might all have been for naught. Admittedly, most of the medications had been expired, having sat in the office first aid kit for years. He hadn’t been able to go to the chemist himself, and refused to even consider asking anyone to pick some things up for him. It had already been embarrassing enough asking Sasha to bring him some tampons—though of course she had been lovely, it was not an experience he wished to repeat.

He takes a shaking breath.

Just stop thinking about it.

Just have a drink, and maybe you’ll be alright.

Tim and Sasha are dominating the makeshift dance floor, both of their hair peppered with sparkling confetti, Tim’s neck adorned with garland and tinsel. The way their bodies move so freely, so naturally with the music, grinning drunkenly at one another all the while can’t but melt Martin’s expression into a fond smile. Catching his eye for a moment, Tim winks at him—grin spreading even wider, and pulling a blush onto Martin’s cheeks.

Prick, he thinks, smiling back through his beet red flush.

Scanning further to the left, he finds Jon standing against the wall, cornered by the bloke from research Martin knows fancies him. He squints a bit at the two of them, trying to read Jon’s expression, relieved to find a bit of discomfort there before—

Jon laughs. Heartily, and with a rare, gorgeous smile across his face.

Martin feels as if he could sink into the floorboards.

What is wrong with you?

Jon has a right to date whoever he damn well pleases.

Not like you’d ever have a chance anyway.

He sighs, but the breath catches in his chest, pulling him into a painful coughing fit—hastily stifled behind both his elbow and his closed lips. As he attempts to get himself under control, he glances back around the room, hoping no one has seen him—and with no small measure of dismay, notices that Tim and Sasha are approaching his table, arm in arm.

Shit shit shit

He sniffs hastily between coughs, swiping his sleeve over his dripping nose, disgusted with himself even as he does so. Mercifully, he manages to control the fit by the time they’ve really gotten close, reaching out for his drink at once to calm the raging furnace of his throat.

“Martin! There he is, the man of the hour,” Tim booms delightedly, sitting on the folding chair nearest him and pulling Sasha into his lap with a surprised shout.

“Tim! Shame on you,” she teases, swatting at his arm playfully.

“You love it and you know it,” he grins, nuzzling into her shoulder.

Martin uses their distraction as an opportunity to turn away, sniffling urgently against the rising buzz stirring up beneath the bridge of his nose, reverberating through packed sinuses. When he sees them peripherally turning their attention back to him, he plasters a smile back on his face, tipping his pounding head as casually as possible onto one fist.

“Having a good time?” Tim asks, resting his chin on Sasha’s shoulder.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, it’s great, Tim, really nice job,” he says, trying to force his voice back into somewhat of his normal register.

“Fantastic! Can’t have you missing the holidays, can we? Now that would be a true tragedy!” he replies, clapping Martin jovially on the back.

Martin pitches forward at once, fighting back against his lungs, ready to burst with the jostling.

Not now not now not now

“You alright, Martin?” Sasha asks softly, still running a hand distractedly through Tim’s hair.

Offering her a quick smile, he nods vigorously against a few choked-back coughs, grabbing his drink at once and gulping it down. It barely helps, but it’s enough to get him through the worst of the painful tickling, though his eyes begin to tear with effort.

“Fine, fine, sorry—just choked on something, I dunno,” he lies, voice coming out in a bit of a croak.

“Well you’d better not choke and die before it’s time for karaoke!” Tim bellows. “Couldn’t stand to miss your lovely tenor!”

Martin quirks up a smile at this, blushing at the compliment, as always. Tim knows exactly how to push his buttons, and revels in it.

“We’ll see if there’s anyone still here who’s not too drunk to sing by then,” Sasha replies. “I believe I’m well past that point already.”

“Aw, come on Sasha, you can never be too drunk to sing karaoke! That’s what makes it great!”

They continue arguing like this for a while, and Martin finds his attention drifting back to Jon, who still stands against the far wall. A second person has joined in the conversation with him and the man from research, and Jon’s discomfort seems to have risen again, eyes flitting about for an exit route.

Then they lock on Martin’s.

Martin gives a little gasp, face flushing, the buzzing building in his sinuses at the disturbance. Looking away quickly, he hopes to god that Jon had not seen him staring, but when he looks back, Jon is already crossing the room toward him.

Oh shit.

The pulsing of his sinuses only continues to grow—of course Jon would be coming to talk to him now, when he’s a right mess, when he can feel congestion rising in his nose and throat.

I have to get out of here, he decides, extracting himself abruptly from the table.

“Hey, where are you going?” Tim calls after him, but Martin cannot bring himself to turn around—making a beeline for the men’s bathroom with all the energy he can muster.

As he ducks into the room, he sweeps his eyes around to check for any other occupants before grabbing desperately at the paper towels hanging over the sink. He barely lifts them in time to catch the painful sneezes that double him over—immediately causing his head to spin, coming one after the other in wet, heaving bursts. When at last his nose allows him to rest, he sinks down onto the floor of the bathroom, back braced against the wall. With all the effort he can summon, he does his best to clear his sinuses of their ghastly blockage—to no avail, the force of the breaths merely pushing his lungs into yet another coughing fit.

God, this is miserable.

It is in the midst of this coughing that the door opens, revealing Jon—who stares down at him in shock, frozen in the doorway for several seconds. Martin is quite certain he would rather sink beneath the earth, never to return than to be caught here in this moment.

Oh god oh god oh god

“…Martin? Are you alright?” Jon asks at last, recovering himself a bit and closing the door behind him.

“I-I’b fi—heh—” is all Martin can manage, consonants rounded out with congestion before his breath begins to hitch, desperately rubbing at his nose to keep control of itself while Jon watches him.

Jon furrows his brow, apparently unimpressed with this performance of “fine.” Crouching down slowly on the ground beside him, he peers concernedly into Martin’s face, which instantly flares up with heat.

I’m in hell. I’ve died, and this is hell.

“What is it?” Jon asks, so softly that Martin feels his heart could burst. “Are you ill?”

Damn it all.

If Jon has managed to guess the truth upon seeing him, Martin supposes there’s no way to hide it from him now—so he settles instead for trivialization.

“It’s fide, Jod—dod’ worry,” he croaks, wincing at his own pronunciation and sniffing in response.

Great. Excellent. Truly convincing.

“Hmm,” Jon replies articulately, before pressing the cool back of his palm to Martin’s scorching forehead—nearly killing Martin on the spot with the shock of it.

Oh Christ oh Christ

Jon pulls his hand back with a displeased huff, and a violent fever chill runs up the length of Martin’s spine.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” he demands, short and snappish.

Something about his tone tingles at the back of his mind, drawing the words from him unbidden.

“Because…because I didn’t want to ruin the holiday, and Tim was so kind to set up this big party so I could celebrate, and I just…I just couldn’t bear the thought of spoiling it,” he says, the words spilling out of him in a rush.

He immediately clamps a hand over his mouth, gasping in horror at his own honesty. Jon looks about as shocked as he feels, alcohol undoubtedly leaving his expression unguarded.

“Wh—I…Martin, I—”

Jon is saved from his stammering by a fit of heavy sneezing, hastily stifled into Martin’s pathetic little hoard of paper towels. Disturbed by the sudden convulsions, his chest begins to flutter into a coughing fit once again—a bit harder to stifle now due to the sheer force of it. When at last he is allowed a brief respite, he leans his head back against the wall, breaths wet and heaving as he fights against the renewed dizziness.

“Christ, that sounds awful,” Jon mutters, reaching up to hand him more paper towels.

“Thadks,” Martin replies hoarsely, both in response to the paper towels and the insult.

Jon watches concernedly for a few moments, worrying at his bottom lip while Martin rubs the paper against the tender inflammation of his nose, desperately trying to ease the constant buzzing.

“Look, Martin, you’re not well—” Jon begins, before cutting himself off. “I-I mean, you know that, of course you know that, but—”

He breaks off again, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“I’ve got some medicine in my office. Do you think you could make it back there?”

Martin huffs out a laugh before beginning to stand.

“’Course I can, Jon, I’m not—" he pauses when yet another wave of dizziness washes over him, bracing against the wall where he stands.

Jon reaches out his arms on instinct, but Martin brushes them off at once.

“Sorry, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

When Martin looks back at him, Jon is staring at him with so much open concern that it steals his breath away.

God, he’s gorgeous.

“I’m sure. Th-thank you,” he stammers awkwardly, allowing Jon to lead him back through the outskirts of the party and into the quiet of his office.

Once they’ve arrived, Jon ushers him in quickly, flicking on the desk lamp as he does so. The peacefulness that comes with the closed door is enough to make Martin sigh in contentment, watching distantly as Jon begins to rummage through a cabinet in search of the meds.

“Sit down, Martin,” he orders simply, no heat behind his words.

Martin can’t help but oblige, sinking onto the chair they use when people come to give their statements. As he does so, the pressure in his nose begins to build again, threatening to break through the surface at any moment—and he feels it’s only fair to at least try to avoid a mess.

“J-Jon, d’you—heh—d’you have ti—hh—”

“Right, right, of course, here—”

Jon fumbles hurriedly with a box of tissues that he pulls from the cabinet, nearly dropping them in his haste to hand them to Martin in time. By some miracle, he manages—Martin immediately doubles over into a fit of violent, unforgiving sneezes, which morph steadily into coughing, and then back into sneezing—caught in a seemingly endless cycle of misery. When at last he is able to look up, eyes streaming, Jon has fetched him a glass of water, and holds out a small pile of pills for him to take.

“Here, better hurry before it starts up again,” Jon mutters, shoving his offerings abruptly into Martin’s hands.

“O-oh—thanks,” he stammers, hot shame flooding his cheeks as he swallows them down.

When he looks up, Jon is chewing at his bottom lip again, brows furrowed—an expression that Martin has learned means he’s considering his words carefully. It’s one of those expressions that endears Jon so much to him that he could just get lost in it—and perhaps he does, for he startles at the noise when Jon finally speaks.

“Martin, I—I’m not asking this to pry, a-and it’s none of my business, but—but I’m just…concerned. Are you…are you wearing a binder right now?” Jon asks quietly rubbing a thumb into his own collarbone in a gesture of anxiety.

Fuck.

…I didn’t think he knew.

Instinctively, Martin hunches his shoulders forward, crossing his arms tightly—the mere mention of his chest enough to drag his dysphoria to the surface at the moment.

“N-No, I’m not—shouldn’t when you’re ill,” Martin mutters quickly, dropping his gaze quickly to the floor.

Jon lets out a small sigh of relief.

“Good, that’s good, I—” he breaks off, clearly noticing Martin’s change in posture. “—oh. Martin, I-I’m sorry, did I—”

“It’s alright, it’s not your fault,” Martin cuts in, trying to offer him a small smile. “And it’s…it’s thoughtful of you to ask. Erm.”

He looks back up at last, willing to do anything to make this even just a bit less awkward. What he finds when he does so is not a face overwhelmed with discomfort—but rather one softened with worry, and blushing with…something else as well, though Martin wouldn’t dare to put a name on it. He can’t help the wry smile that pulls one corner of his mouth upward.

“Jon, how many have you had tonight?” he asks, a bit teasingly.

“How many…how many what? Alcoholic beverages?” Jon replies, tilting his head in confusion.

Martin can’t help but laugh properly at this, for which he is thoroughly punished when it turns into a heavy coughing fit.

“Christ, Martin, I-I’m sorry,” Jon stammers, arms reaching out, then floating back to his sides repeatedly, unsure of the proper action to take.

Martin waves him off at once.

“It’s alright, it was rather nice to have a laugh,” still smiling through labored breaths.

Jon can’t help but quirk up a smile in return, face flooding with heat before he hurriedly looks back down.

“Erm—right.”

He coughs awkwardly before continuing.

“W-Well, is there…what else can I do? To help, I mean?”

He’s adorable.

God help me.

“Nothing, nothing—thank you for the meds, I—I suppose we should head back out to the party,” he says, rising slowly from the chair.

“Absolutely not,” Jon says sternly. “I’m taking you to bed, and that’s the end of it.”

Martin’s eyes go wide, another laugh threatening to bubble up in his chest at this choice of words. For Jon not to notice it…that must mean he’s pretty far gone. The way he stands now, tiny and cross and blocking the door, tells Martin that he ought to just give in and save himself the trouble.

“Alright, alright,” he complies, raising his hands. “But that means you’ll have to talk to Tim, and you know he gets weepy when he’s drunk.”

Jon nods his head in acceptance, with such solemnity that Martin has to cover his mouth to hide his foolish grin.

Oh, Jon.

“I’ll talk to him. Just…just try to get some sleep, alright?” Jon replies, grabbing Martin’s hand as he passes by to step into the hallway.

Martin’s face instantly becomes a wide-eyed tomato, and Jon drops his hand at once, stepping back clumsily.

“Sorry, erm…I’ll…I’ll see you on Monday,” he screeches before bolting back into the crowd.

Left in the wake of this, Martin can’t help but laugh and savor the feeling of Jon’s hand in his.

---

(present day)

“Oh god,” Jon moans, face buried in his hands.

Martin laughs hysterically now, wrapping his arms around Jon’s shoulders as his entire body shakes with laughter.

“Sorry love—I’m sorry, it’s just so funny,” he giggles, wiping the tears beginning to stream down his face.

“Glad to hear my mortification is so funny to you, Martin,” he huffs, pouting dramatically and crossing his arms over his chest.

Martin swings a leg over him, straddling his thin form and leaning down to cup his face.

“Oh, silly me, did I forget to say ‘adorable?’”

He kisses Jon’s forehead.

“’Handsome?’”

He kisses his jaw.

“’Charming?’”

This time, Jon wraps his arms around Martin’s neck, pulling him in for a proper kiss—smiling against him when he lets out a soft noise of pleasure. Jon parts his lips in response, coaxing Martin deeper, cherishing the way he can feel the warmth of his body growing ever warmer above him. Pulling him back down beside him, he tangles his body up in Martin’s, passion intertwining with the gentle softness Martin always offers him. Several minutes pass by this way, and Jon starts to think he could lie here forever, just lazily kissing in their bed. When Martin at last breaks it off, it’s with such urgency that Jon can tell instantly a sneeze is on the horizon.

“Here,” he says wryly, plucking a tissue from the box and handing it to him.

Martin takes it as graciously as possible, face continuing to screw up as his breaths hitch. At last, he lets it go—turning away from Jon a bit as he sneezes once, twice, thrice into the tissue, and finishing with moan as he rubs at his sinuses.

“Bless you,” Jon whispers, propped up on one elbow and rubbing soothing circles over his chest.

Turning back now, Martin grimaces up at him.

“I’ve probably gotten you ill now, Jon. We shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh, we shouldn’t?” Jon teases, kissing a trail down Martin’s jawline and into his neck, pleased at the way this makes him squirm.

“I rather think we should keep going,” he murmurs, lifting his head to look at him, lips barely hovering above Martin’s own.

With a grin so full of love he’s fit to burst, Martin pulls him back down—and they spend the rest of the day in such warmth as can only be found in each other’s arms.

[letsyesnomaybe]

Never Gonna Wanna Let Me Go | Epilogue

Zayn Malik is one of the highest paid escorts in London. He’s good at his job, he knows this. But it’s not his chosen field, it’s easy money so he can have a chance to pursue his chosen field without becoming homeless. His employer Caroline has many rules to keep him safe but Zayn only has one ‘Don’t Get Attached’. Of course, there was always going to be one, the guy who would come in to the picture and make Zayn’s easy job almost impossible.

Liam Payne. Twenty Six. Made his money by inheriting his father’s music business after he passed away. Quite well known so expect publicity. Wants a pretty face on his arm to cover the events he has to attend while in town on business. Make sure he knows if he wants extra he has to pay. You’ve got your usual expenses on your card, don’t go overboard like last time. I mean it, Malik! Your share for the weekend will go in your account on Monday when you’ve done your job.

Love you babes, stay safe, C x

(also on ao3)

Zayn’s in a bit of the rush trying to get everything sorted for the day to go perfectly and he’s in the middle of panicking about it being too windy for the massive balloon arch they’d ordered when he hears a familiar call of his name. 

He spins around to see his Godson sprinting across the garden towards him, his bright almost white hair blowing in the wind as he does. 

“Archer!” Zayn calls back, trying to match the child’s enthusiasm. 

Archer lets out a round of giggles when the moment he reaches Zayn, he’s picked up and thrown in to the air. 

The parents of the five-year-old are walking slowly behind him, their hands entwined and they’re giggling in to each others shoulders, somehow still in love like teenagers even after almost ten years together. 

“Mummy, can I go and play with the puppies?” Archer asks, as Zayn sets him back on the floor and his parents finally reach them. 

“If you’re careful.” Stella agrees. 

Stark (the fluffiest and craziest malamute to ever exist) and Harley (they’re absolute softy of a Pitbull) are chasing each other around the pool and he makes quick work of running over to them so he can join in their fun. 

“I thought we went overboard for Archer’s first birthday,” Stella jokes, as she takes in the decorations covering the garden. “This is a lot, darling.” 

“It’s not my doing.” Zayn assures her and glances across the garden to where his husband is stood, attempting to help his father sort out the fireworks. 

Liam lets out a laugh at something his father had said and it earns himself a slap on the back and it still amazes Zayn, even after all this time, that Liam had managed to turn the thoughts of very traditional Asian man, completely around and all by being nothing but himself.  

“I’m gonna go say ‘Hello’.” Louis informs his wife. 

Stella nods easily in agreement. 

Louis leans in to kiss her cheek in parting and nods to Zayn before he jogs across the garden to where his best friend is situated. 

“He’s not good.” Zayn observes. 

“How do you know that within five minutes of seeing him?” Stella complains. “Is it the first love connection thing?” 

Zayn snorts. “I don’t think that’s a thing, love.” 

“It’s having to retire before his time,” Stella starts with a sad sigh. “And the whole not being able to get pregnant again, he feels like he’s being punished for something.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows curiously.  

“Oh, fuck off.” She tells him without heat. “He gave you Liam, who is absolutely perfect for you and completely adores you, he made up for breaking your heart all those years ago.” 

Zayn nods in agreement because it had been more than ten years since he and Louis had ended things. 

It had taken them a long time to get here and it was mostly Liam’s doing, unable to give up either of the two people he loved. There had been a lot of hard moments and even a physical fight between Louis and himself before he finally concluded he didn’t want to be upset over it anymore. Liam was his forever and Louis had actually aided in bringing him in to his life so he owed him that much. They’re still not quite the best of friends but they’re on good terms and Zayn adores Stella, would class her as one of his best friends (which is how he had the guts to tell her exactly what went down between him and Louis and not worry that she would be scared and dump Louis as an outcome) so they make it work in the best way they can. 

“Liam!” Roo calls out loudly, pulling the entire garden’s attention in her direction. 

Ali is in her arms and he looks very upset about the fact that he’s awake. 

‘Ali, like Prince Ali from Aladdin.’ Liam had teased last year when they found out they were having a boy and Zayn had suggested the name.

‘No, like the Arabic name meaning champion.’ Zayn had argued but from the moment he’d been handed this precious bundle of joy he’d decided he was a Prince. A little Prince for his King so he supposes Prince Ali from Aladdin had been correct, not that he will ever admit to Liam that he was right. 

“Why is he awake?” Liam complains, as he walks across the garden to greet her. 

“Probably because his father is organising a ridiculous party for him, he’s too excited to sleep.” Roo snaps back. 

“Papa!” Ali cries, trying to reach out for Liam. 

Liam picks up his pace so he can get the baby from his sister’s arms. “What are you doing awake, little man?” 

Ali doesn’t answer because he’s one and he doesn’t fully understand the English language quite yet, instead he leans his head down to rest on his father’s shoulder and that seems to be all Liam needs as a reply. 

“I’m gonna take him back up,” Liam decides, his cheek resting down against their son’s head as he looks over to Zayn. “You okay to finish up, Jaan?” 

‘Meri Jaan, it means my love or my life.’ Zayn explained as a twenty two year old Liam looked at him like he was the moon and the stars and had been the exact reason the two words had slipped of his tongue so easily. 

'You’re my whole life, Z.’ Liam had replied and that one sentence is what had Zayn planning out a proposal that was sure to make Liam cry.

“We’ll help,” Louis assures Liam, snapping Zayn back to reality. “Take the bab up, we want him to be awake to enjoy all this madness, right?” 

Liam nods his eyes but he’s got curious eyes on Zayn. 

“I’m good,” Zayn assures him. “I can finish up.” 

Liam keeps his curious eyes on Zayn for a beat longer until the baby in his arms starts whining and he finally decides to head inside, to get the one-year-old the last few moments of sleep he needs to enjoy the incredible party they have planned for him. 

A silence overcomes those left in the garden, as they part to finish up the overly extravagant party Liam had planned for Ali’s first birthday long before the baby had even been born. 

It’s an hour later that people slowly start filling up their Malibu home and Zayn’s in the kitchen trying to get the number one candle to sit on top of a cake shape like the hulk’s fist when he finds himself lost in the memory of the day he’d proposed to Liam. 

Harry had called him crazy, they had only been together for six months and even though Zayn had moved his entire life to another country in that time, his best friend still thought that marriage was a big commitment. 

But Zayn didn’t think he was being crazy because he could feel it in his chest every time Liam smiled and he knew he would never tire of that smile or any of the aspects of Liam he’d fallen in love with. 

Planning the proposal was the hardest part because the moment Zayn had agreed to follow Liam to LA, every aspect of his life had become Liam centric and so trying to hide something from the younger lad had almost impossible. 

But somehow he managed, he booked out their favourite restaurant and managed to fly out everyone they love to LA. 

It hadn’t taken him months to plan so he actually managed to align it perfectly with their one year anniversary and had told Liam he’d bagged them the karaoke room at the back of the restaurant but he’d argued he wanted to have first song, which back then Liam agreed to easily because it was rare for Zayn without being begged to (or in the shower) which is a complete contrast to four years later where he now spends most of his days locked away in their home studio singing songs he and his husband write and produce. 

Liam’s curious face is still one of his favourite memories because this boy adores music and seems to know every song under the sun so when an opening beat to a song started playing he’d looked very curious. But what was even better was that twinkly eyed blinding grin he’d gotten when he’d realised the lyrics Zayn was singing, were of his own making. 

Zayn’s glad Harry had convinced him to record the whole thing because he knows he can go upstairs and see all those faces for himself, he doesn’t have to rely on memory for them. 

The part of the tape he almost broke when he first watched it, was the moment he sang the last ‘For the rest of ours’ and dropped down on to one knee because Liam let out audible gasp before his hands flew to his mouth and tears filled his eyes. 

It taken him a few minutes to calm down and Zayn’s knee was starting to hurt slightly before he finally blurted out his ‘yes’ and joined Zayn on the floor. 

“Hey,” Liam calls but it’s the gentle hand on his waist that has Zayn snapping back to reality. “I’ve been calling you.” 

Zayn blinks a few times to bring himself completely and when he does he’s met with his husband’s worried expression. 

“It’s been a while since you’ve zoned out.” Liam observes. 

“There’s something wrong with Louis.” Zayn says because it’s the only explanation he’s got. 

Liam nods in understanding. “He’s scared Stella is going to leave him.” 

“What?” Zayn asks confused because he’d never met two people as well suited as Stella and Louis, they’re both equal parts sarcastic and endearing. 

“She really wants another baby,” Liam explains. “Louis can’t give that to her.” 

“They haven’t even tried IVF yet,” Zayn argues. “They’ve been trying for like a year, it can take some couples years to get pregnant once and they already managed that.” 

“They got tested,” Liam tells him softly when he must realise Zayn doesn’t know. “It’s Lou, he’s the, uh, the problem. His sperm count is really low, they were shocked that the two of them even managed to get pregnant with Archer.” 

“Oh.” Zayn says quietly as he tries to process that information. 

“They’ll be okay, he’s being dramatic, you know what he’s like.” Liam decides. “If Stella heard that he was even thinking about it, she’d cut him a new one.” 

Zayn nods his head in agreement because Stella adores Louis but she runs the show and she’s pretty sure Louis has a death wish if he’s even thinking about the two of them breaking up, he truly believes Stella is the only person in the world that takes the ‘till death do us part’ vow deadly serious. 

“He’ll be okay,” Liam assures him and glances down to the mess Zayn had made of the cake because he’d been so lost in memories. “I’ll get the back up cake.” 

Zayn reaches out for him before he can move. 

“Okay?” Liam checks. 

Zayn nods and slips his hands around Liam’s waist before singing. “Let me be your man so I can love you.” 

Liam’s face breaks out in to the same grin he’d had that night. 

“For the rest of my life,” Zayn sings while resting their foreheads togethers. “For the rest of yours.”

Liam closes his eyes and pushes his forehead more against Zayn’s. “I love you so fucking much.” 

“More than you’ll ever know, beautiful boy.” Zayn promises. 

Liam gives him a pretty demanding kiss which leaves him a little bit dazed when the younger lad pulls away and the way Liam smiles as he leaves him to get the other cake, shows he’s quite proud he can still manage to do that after all these years had passed. 

The party is quite overwhelming for them and little Ali and he’s passed out on the couch as the last of the guests finally leave. 

Most of the family members who had been taking advantage of their mass of spare rooms, had already headed up to bed. 

In fact, it was only the four of them remaining, toasting Liam and Zayn’s ability to raise a child for a year with a very expensive bottle of chateau that Louis had bought especially for the occasion. 

They’re almost through the bottle when Louis starts wriggling where he’s sat on the couch beside Liam. 

“Have you got worms?” Liam teases. “Sit still, man.” 

Louis stops his movements but then lets out a long laboured breath which makes Zayn start to panic. 

“What’s going on?” Liam worries, looking from Louis to Stella when that’s where the older lad’s gaze leads him. “Stel?” 

“We need to ask you something!” Stella blurts and looks pointedly at her husband. 

Zayn and Liam both look at Louis. 

“What?” Liam demands when Louis only nibbles his lower lip nervously. 

“It’s a big ask, mate.” Louis tells him. 

“Would you just ask me?!” Lee snaps but a lovely laugh passes through his lips 

“We wanted to know, uh, like, we need to know if you would, uh, if you wouldn’t mind...” Louis stumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck so hard he’s sure to have some kind of friction burn. 

“We wanted to know if we could have some of your sperm, please?” Stella requests politely. 

It’s so absurd sounding that Zayn can’t help but burst out in to laughter. 

“Mine?” Liam checks, though his eyes are on his husband. 

Zayn waves him off as he tries to calm himself down. 

“You’re kind of the perfect man for the job, mate.” Louis replies, he looks so hopeful that if Liam says ‘no’ then Zayn is sure he’s going to be haunted by the hurt look he’s guaranteed to give in response. 

“I’ve got a dodgy kidney,” Liam reminds them. “It’s the whole reason Ali is Z’s.” 

“What are the actual chances of a kid inheriting that though?” Louis asks. 

‘Okay, it’s not that common but is it that bad that I want another one of you, that I love you so much that I’d have millions of mini yous if I could.’ 

Zayn smiles at the memory. “It’s not high at all, Liam just wanted to clone my genes really bad so he used it as an excuse for Ali to be mine.” 

Three pairs of eyes snap towards him like they hadn’t expected him to speak. 

“You’re asking for my husband’s sperm,” Zayn points out. “I would think I’m entitled to an opinion.” 

“Of course you are, darling.” Stella assures him. 

“You’d be okay with it?” Louis asks, his bright blue eyes are wide and his head is pulled back like someone was trying to get him to smell something really bad. 

“We love you both,” Zayn answers but makes sure to look at Stella when he says it. “If this is what you need to complete your family then I’m okay with it.” 

Stella offers him a blinding smile and tears are filling her eyes so Zayn tugs her in to a side cuddle before those tears have chance to break. 

“Li?” Louis asks. 

Liam’s eyes are trained on Zayn. “You’re really okay with it?” 

“I am,” Zayn assures him. “It’s ultimately your decision though, babe.” 

Liam goes quiet for a really long time. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to do it, bro.” Louis tries, though his face does look hurt. “It’s a lot to ask.” 

Liam finally looks up and he looks straight up at Zayn so Zayn tries to give him the best reassuring smile he can, he hopes conveys that he’s okay with whatever Liam’s decision is. 

“Okay,” Liam says finally. “I’ll do it, I’d love to do it.” 

“Really?” Louis checks. 

Liam pulls his eyes from Zayn to look at him instead and nods his head. “I’d do anything for you, bro, you know that.” 

“You’re too much, Payne.” Louis teases before dragging him in for a cuddle. 

‘You’re so fucking much, Zayn. You’re too much and I probably don’t deserve you but if you were willing to give me a shot I’d really hope you could fall in love with me too.’ 

Zayn feels a smile pull at his lips as he thinks of how far they’ve come since that moment in the bedroom of the shitty apartment he used to share with Harry in London. 

He makes a note to call his best friend to see how well he’s handling being a new dad of three. The last time they’d spoken, the triples had only just been born and didn’t even have names yet. Now they’re almost a month old and Zayn really wishes they lived in the same country so he could see how his best friend is struggling with that venture on the daily. 

“You okay, babe?” Stella asks him quietly, not to disturb the two cuddling boys on the opposite couch. 

Zayn nods his head and when he looks at her, he doesn’t bother to hide the tears in his eyes. 

“Oh, darling.” Stella coos, squeezing him gently. 

“Z?” Liam worries, his intuition when Zayn’s upset being completely on point. 

“He’s okay,” Stella assures him. “Bit overwhelmed, I think.”

Liam doesn’t need more than that and he’s getting up from the couch he’s on to come over to one her and Zayn are sharing. 

“I love you so much,” Liam says as he cups Zayn’s cheek. “You and our boy, you’re the most important thing to me in this world.” 

Zayn nods his head and offers him a wobbly smile. “I can’t believe we’re here, this is our life, it’s so---I’m so fucking happy.” 

“Me too.” Liam agrees and leans in to give him one of those pretty demanding kisses. 

It’s Ali grumbling from the couch he and Archer were asleep on across the room that finally has them falling apart. 

“I think it’s time for bed,” Liam says as he pulls back from Zayn. “We can talk more in the morning?” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course, bro.” Louis agrees when Liam looks to him. 

Liam walks over to squeeze his shoulder before he heads across the room to pick ups his now very whiny baby boy. 

“Can I sleep in Ali’s room, Uncle Li?” Archer asks, somehow suddenly very awake. 

“The camp bed is already set up for you, buddy.” Zayn assures him. 

“Yes!” Archer cheers. “You’re the best, Uncle Z!” 

“Better than me?” Liam asks him with a fake sad face. 

“No,” Archer says quickly. “You’re my favourite still.” 

He tries to whisper the last part but it’s still loud enough for the whole room to hear. 

Archer had bounced between his favourites when it came to Zayn and Liam since he was old enough to talk. But last Halloween Liam had gone as Iron Man for Halloween and the five-year-old had caught him without his mask on, which then convinced him Liam was the real life Iron man which means Zayn has not got a look in since. 

Liam winks at the young boy and then bends down to lift up Ali gently from the couch. 

Zayn gets up so he can come over and nuzzle at his sleepy baby’s face as he jams it in his father’s neck. 

“Want to lead the way up, bud?” Liam suggests to Archer. 

Archer takes off out of the room without being told twice. 

“Goodnight everyone.” Liam announces to the two remaining adults before looking to Zayn. “You coming?” 

“I’m gonna tidy up a bit,” Zayn decides and makes a shooing gestured. “I’ll follow you up.” 

Liam looks as tired as the baby in his arms so he nods his head before leaning in to steal a kiss and then follows the second youngest of them out of the room. 

“I’ll help?” Louis offers.

“I’m going up,” Stella decides. “My manicure cost too much to ruin it cleaning up other people’s mess.” 

Louis snorts. “Of course, love.” 

“I love you, idiot.” Stella informs him. 

“I love you, idiot.” Louis echoes easily. 

They share a grin before their own child causing ciaos upstairs, has Liam calling out for Stella and she makes quick work of going to see what the issue is. 

Zayn and Louis clean up the mess that is the living rom and part of the garden before Zayn calls it a night. 

“Malik?” Louis calls out once they reach the landing before Zayn can walk in to his and Liam’s bedroom. 

Zayn turns to look at him curiously. 

“I heard your new single,” Louis starts and when Zayn nods to show he’s listening. “I was pretty fucking mad when I first heard it, that you could do that to him.” 

“He helped me write it.” Zayn informs him. 

“I know, he told me.” Louis assures him and then. “So, you really think that? That somewhere out there there’s two of us that are together.” 

Zayn shrugs. “Could be, there could be a version of us where I’m with Stella.” 

Louis scrunches up his nose and Zayn mirrors it, wishing the words hadn’t left his mouth and soon they’re both laughing. 

“I’m so fucking glad you’re in my life, Z.” Louis decides, once they’ve both calmed down. “I know it was always selfish of me to ask that from you but I’m so glad you fell in love with him and you’re happy and I get to see that.” 

Zayn nods his head because it had taken him years to accept it but having Louis in his life in this capacity is much better than not having him in his life at all. 

“I just wanted that said.” Loui concludes and straightens his shoulder. 

“We’ve come a long way in ten years.” Zayn decides. 

Louis looks up and when their eyes meet, a smile finally breaks out on his face. “We really have.” 

“I’m glad you’re in my life too, Lou.” Zayn assures him. “I’m also glad I get to love him, he’s the best thing to ever happen to me. And Stel is perfect for you, I’m so glad you found her and I’m so glad I get to her be a part of my life too.” 

Louis’ smile is beaming now and he’s got a slight tear in his eye. 

“I wouldn’t have him without you and we wouldn’t have Ali if we’d never met so thank you for that.” Zayn concludes. 

Louis nods and wipes his eyes with the arm of his jumper when the tears finally break. 

“I’m gonna go in here and fuck him,” Zee says finally. “So, if I were you I’d run to your room before you hear things you don’t want to,  I don’t get paid to sound pretty anymore, it’s not something to stick around for.” 

Louis laughs and reaches out to shove his shoulder. “Twat.” 

“I’m no joking.” Zayn says as straight faced as possible. 

“You’re a dickhead, Malik.” Louis states as he makes his way down the corridor to his room. 

“Goodnight, Tommo.” Zayn calls after him. 

Louis throws him a thumbs up before finally disappearing in to the spare room he and Stella claimed as theirs, the instant Liam and Zayn had bought the house. 

Liam’s sat up in bed when Zayn finally walks in to his room, he’s shirtless and is looking at Zayn curiously. 

“What?” Zayn worries, as he closes the door behind him. 

“Do you know how fucking perfect you are?!” Liam demands. 

Zayn takes a step back in confusion because what Liam said sounded nice but the pure volume makes him sound angry. 

“You’re so perfect!” Liam complains but lowers his voice as he notices Zayn’s confusion. “And you’re mine? How the fuck did I pull that off?” 

“The sex is pretty good?” Zayn offers. 

Liam’s face breaks out in to a bright smile so big his eyes disappear and even after all these years, it’s still Zayn’s favourite smile on earth, apart from their baby boy’s of course. 

“Come here?” Liam pleads. 

Zayn finally lifts himself up from the door and walks across the room to join him on the bed. 

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” Liam decides and pulls Zayn by his t-shirt in to the final demanding kiss of the day. 

Zayn’s getting himself pretty excited when Liam suddenly lets him go and climbs out of the bed. 

“I’m going for a pee,” Liam informs him when Zayn pouts at him. “I’ll be right back.” 

“I’ll be waiting her for you, Liam.” Zayn replies with a loose grin. 

Liam pauses for a moment like he’d let himself get lost in the memory for once and when a little smile grows on hips lips, Zayn’s own heart can’t take how much he loves this boy. 

“I’ll always be waiting for you, Jann.” Zayn promises. “As long as you promise you’ll always come back to me.” 

Liam steps back towards and is gently as he brushes his lips across Zayn’s and it’s barely a whisper when he says. “Always.” 

Zayn leans up to steal a kiss this time but only five minutes later Liam announces he really does need to pee and giggles as he walks over to the bathroom. 

As Zayn flops himself back down on to a bed it’s with a smile and thought that he wouldn’t change a single thing about his completely perfect life. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #466

“she is the butcher, she wants the air  /  she hides the scars under her hair”

Who do you think cares the most about you? My mom. What do you do when you’re pissed off? Isolate and cry. Have you ever had unprotected sex? Good luck catchin' me do that. What did your mother study at university? Social work. What was the last thing you took a video of? I have zero idea. What is your least favorite kind of weather? Hot and humid weather can actually fuck off. What was the last housework you did? Does changing my cat's litter count? Have you ever had famous neighbors? Not to my knowledge. Have you ever lived in a small community where everyone knew each other? Nope. Have you ever actually drank warm milk? NO EW EW EW EW EW Do you talk to your pets? If you don't, are you REALLY a pet parent??????? Who is a famous person you could see yourself reading a biography about? He's always said he doesn't want to but I really hope Mark writes an autobiography one day alskdjklafjw;ejr Are there any numbers you dislike for any reason? No. What skill that you have do you make most use of? idk man Have you ever done something sexual that you regret? Nah. Have you ever said anything to the last person you kissed that you regret? No. Have you ever ate so much you puked? No. Do you care about what others think of your physical appearance? Sometimes/some places yes, other times/places, no. Would you rather eat cookies or brownies? It would probably change with what I'm feeling, but I lean towards a nice center piece brownie. :^) If you’re out late, where are you likely to be? This literally never happens. Do you ever visit your mall’s arcade (if it has one)? Our mall is lame as fuck. It definitely doesn't have one. What’s your absolute favorite topic to discuss? Mark, lmao. What is your least favorite topic to discuss? Politics. Have you ever been confined to a wheelchair? "Confined" seems like a strong word, but a nurse did give me one at the doctor's office when I massively tore a ligament in my foot and could barely walk at all. If you have a job, who’s your closest friend at work? Don't remind me that I don't have a job. Have you told anyone you love them today? Not yet, but I'm sure I will later. Have you ever worked in an office? No, but I guess that's what I'm going to wind up going for once I'm ready to job-hunt again... It feels sad that I'm actually aiming for the cubicle life now just because my interaction with people would be much more limited than with most other jobs. Who does the grocery shopping in your house? My mom. Do you prefer margarine or butter, and why? I don't even know if I'd recognize the taste difference. Have you ever been in serious trouble at work or school? No. Do you have any strange fears or phobias that you’re embarrassed of? That I'm embarrassed of, no. Can you smell anything right now? No. Have you ever tried coconut water? No. Which Asian country would you like to visit the most? Idk. Maybe Japan? How old were your parents when they got engaged? I have no idea. Have you ever done a first aid course? No. If so, would you be prepared to perform CPR if necessary? No. Have you ever ‘done it’ in a hotel room? No. Just the idea grosses me out. Where is your next vacation? Couldn't tell ya, buddy. Which are better black or green olives? I'm not a fan of black olives, and I won't even TRY green ones. They just look so fucking disgusting to me. Does your car have a backup camera? Mom's doesn't. Have either of your parents ever been in trouble with the law? No. Do you have a preferred brand of bottled water? Essentia. Is your skin more oily, dry, or combination? It's a combination depending on the location. Where did you meet your current significant other? High school band. What kind of house do you wish you lived in? One that's in the woods. What was the last compliment you received from an old lady? I don't have a clue. Do you know how to cut hair? Properly, no. Have you ever had a classmate die? I believe maybe once? If you have a song stuck in your head, what is it? I recently discovered "Foxy, Foxy" by Rob Zombie and it's Good Stuff. Do you tend to space out a lot? Very much so. What people have changed your life for the better? My parents, my psychiatrist, a PHP therapist, Sara, debatably Jason... Have you ever had any kind of dangerous addiction? What’s this addiction? Caffeine, I guess. Are your parents still married, divorced, or split up? Like this decision? They're divorced, and while it sucks for your parents to split up, it's a decision that I definitely approve of given all they ever did was fight when I was growing up. Them staying together would've been very destructive. Have you ever heard of Hollywood Undead? Do you like them? Well yeah, and I like a large number of songs to where I'd consider myself a fan. I actually had a shirt in high school. Has anyone ever called you a coward before? Who called you that? I don't believe so. Are you a Jeffree Star fan? Or no? Do you think he’s awesome/dumb? Honestly, yes. Like he's done dumb shit, but has more than sufficiently apologized for it in my opinion and changed his behavior for the better. I also - astonishingly - like his music quite a bit. As well, his work ethic is fucking INCREDIBLE, like extremely admirable. Has your grandmother ever made you anything? Not including cookies. I don't think so. I don't even think she ever liked me. Do you disgust anyone? Did they tell you that? Why is this, anyways? Not that I know of. When was the last time you cried, and why (if you want to share)? I don't remember, actually. Probably just about life. Who was the last person who was rude to you? *shrug* Do you have a relationship with God? lol no, and even if I believed in him, I wouldn't have a remotely decent opinion of that entity. Is weed legal in your state? No. Have you ever thrown up in class? In kindergarten, yes. What is something that you used to be ashamed of, but now you’re not? As a kid, being a girl, I was so embarrassed by liking Pokemon. Now, I am literally wearing an Eeveelutions shirt and went out in public lmao. I couldn't care less about loving them cuties. Have you ever walked outside in below zero weather? No; I've never experienced those temperatures. Have you ever held a newborn baby? Yes, but I was sitting down. I would be WAY too scared of dropping a baby otherwise. Are a ton of your Facebook friends getting married and having kids now? I legitimately think most of my friends on there already have kids and/or are married/engaged. It's triggering sometimes and was a massive motivator for me taking a break from there. What’s something you believe in that most people don’t? So uh, I hope this doesn't sound insensitive given how it just passed, but I 100% believe the U.S. government was to some extent involved in 9/11. There is an incredible amount of evidence when you do the research. Is there anyone who’s dear in your heart who’s going down the wrong path? I worry about one of my good friends quite a bit. She is horribly addicted to pot (like, she admits it) in a state where it's not legal, and I'm concerned she'll face legal repercussions eventually. She also dates an absolute lowlife asshole, but they've been together for a very long time, and I just worry about how that might damage her later down the road. Do you get enough sleep? God, it never feels like it. What’s something you wish you would have known sooner? That college wouldn't work for me. Like, I dropped out of three. I do NOT want to know the debt I'm in. What’s the next big project you plan to start? Idk. Possibly something for Girt's birthday because Mom really pissed me off and doesn't want to spend *any*thing to help me get something for him. Is that bad on my end? Like she pointed out he knows I don't work, but like... come on. He's my bf, one of my greatest friends ever, and you can't spare anything? I really don't know if that's selfish or not; it's just that if I get him nothing, I will feel like ACTUAL garbage. So making something may just be my only option. I just dunno what... Do you think you were cute in your baby pictures? omg yes, idk what happened Do you remember pre-school? A lot of it, yes. My long-term memory is pretty damn amazing. Would you allow your children to date prior to 16? Yes. Does your town have a farmer’s market? I think so? Which app on your phone do you tend to get the most notifications from? Pokemon GO, lol. How old were you when you met your current best friend? Around 11. What is something you gave up on after many failed attempts? Photography is coming real fuckin close. I've been trying to go somewhere with that for YEARS. Would you rather read a book, or listen to the audiobook? Physically read. I think my attention would stray listening to an audiobook. Do you think tomorrow will be a better day than today? It's possible, idk. I had a doctor's appointment today that absolutely slaughtered my mood, so I feel fucking horrific, but Girt is also coming over today, and I'm sure he'll cheer me up. I won't see him tomorrow, so that's a bummer. With which friend are you most likely to share a secret? Sara. What is the last thing you complained about? It's hot as shit outside. Is there a show you swear that you will never watch? 13 Reasons Why. What was the last topic that you ranted about? Anti-vax bullshit. Who is the most sensitive person that you know? Bitch, me. Have you ever had a tooth (or teeth) pulled? No. What did you do last Halloween? Literally nothing on the actual holiday. :/ Fire drills: Did you ever wish they were real… just once? ... To get out of school, yes. :x What was the last thing that you felt strongly about? I am still positively livid about Texas' "heartbeat bill." Fuck that place and fuck that law. What is one insecurity you have about your body? Um, everything???? What is one part of your body that you are proud of? Nothing????

[joannerowlingfans]

JK Rowling’s Track Of My Years choices:

Cloudbusting by Kate Bush

Heaven by Emeli Sande

Big Country by Big Country

Court and Spark by Joni Mitchell

All Along The Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix  

River Song by Dennis Wilson  

Ramble On by Led Zeppelin

Waitress by First Aid Kit

Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers  

Dream On Dreamer by Brand New Heavies

Cloudbusting by Kate Bush – being a student in Paris:

JK: [Cloudbusting] came out in 1985 when I was still a student… because I was studying French I spent a year in Paris… I was teaching students in a lycee, basically a comprehensive on the outskirts of Paris. It was a very particular experience going away, I left a boyfriend back in Britain and we were all quite young and we were all quite broke… we had some wonderful adventures during that time… there’s something very wistful about that track… we were all people who like to travel and there was a sense of being lost, but in quite a nice way I suppose, we were exploring life a lot at that time… I don’t know how I managed to get Paris because a lot of my friends ended up in tiny little towns in the middle of nowhere so we all had very varied experiences. I couldn’t believe that I’d got Paris which was of course my first choice.

Heaven by Emeli Sande – remembering the fear of doing the London Olympics Opening Ceremony

JK: I love this song so much, but I have a particular memory attached to it which was the London Olympics Opening Ceremony. They played this track during the ceremony and that was probably the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done in my life, being part of that Opening Ceremony and, in fact, I told Danny Boyle twice, ‘I can’t do it, Danny, I just can’t, I would be too scared’. I’ve got better, but I find public speaking an ordeal. I’ve got better at it and I’ve made myself get braver about it, but I said to him I can’t do it in front of that large an audience, I can’t do it live, please don’t ask me and he kept asking, kept asking me and finally he just said to me, ‘Look, we’ve got the Queen jumping out of an aeroplane’ and when he told me that I honestly thought, [that] no-ones even going to remember I was there. If that’s happening, that’s sort of takes the pressure off! But I do remember just rehearsing and practising and practising this little piece I had to read and when it was over I cannot tell you the sense of exhilaration that I’d done it, I hadn’t fallen over, I hadn’t messed up the reading so I went up into the stands to sit with some people I knew and then we watched this extraordinary ceremony and they played this Emeli Sande track and I will forever associate it with that night…. I said to my husband on the night, ‘On my deathbed, that will be a moment I remember, going out into that stadium.’ It was the most epic event that I’d ever been involved in and I think all of us who participated would say the same thing, nothing will ever come close.

Big Country by Big Country – first ever gig

JK: Now I had to put Big Country by Big Country on the list because this was my first ever live gig. I went to Dingwalls in Bristol with my teenage boyfriend… and they were amazing live… and I just thought they were wonderful, they really were.

Ken: You’ve lived in many different places, where do you feel home is, where do you feel drawn to?

JK: Well, home now is definitely Scotland. I’ve lived most of my life now in Edinburgh, I’ve lived here longer than I’ve lived anywhere else, but when I was younger I had very itchy feet and I’ve lived in London, Manchester, Paris, Oporto… I’ve moved around a lot. I also, within those cities, kept moving. I just do have very itchy feet. But when I had my daughter, I decided consciously, not that that has to stop because I love travelling and as a family we travel a lot, but I decided that she needed roots so we stayed in Edinburgh, which I now love and really do consider my home and my city… [Travelling] is a useful thing to have done and to have seen life from a lot of different perspectives… and I love exploring.

Court and Spark by Joni Mitchell – on inspiring her latest book

JK: Before I began writing Troubled Blood… I looked up all the albums that came out in 1974 because the whodunnit… concerns a women who vanished in 1974 and I wanted to peg her disappearance to an album that she would have loved and I saw that Court and Spark… had come out then and I thought that’s perfect, perfect for this character. So then I began listening to it and listening to it and listening to it and then I loved it so much I now literally own everything that Joni Mitchell has ever brought out and I can now honestly call myself a mad Joni Mitchell fan. It was an odd way to discover all her other work, but I think she’s just untouchable, and as a lyricist I think there’s no one better. My husband last Christmas bought me a book of all her lyrics and it can be read like fine poetry. She’s absolutely extraordinary… Court and Spark is now one of my very favourite albums.

All Along The Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix  – playing it after a bad break-up and being insecure

Since first hearing this song when I think I was probably 18 or 19, I’ve always had it in my music. I do remember playing it very loudly and drunkenly after one bad break-up and I think the attraction there was the opening line, ‘There must be some way out of here’. But it’s just a great song and he again, what a talent and at the venerable age I have reached now, looking back at artists who died so young is particularly poignant I think. I mean you ache for them because you think what would Jimi Hendrix have achieved if he’d lived to past the age of 27? It’s just extraordinary that people produce work of that quality when they’re so young… I think the thing I admire most is having the confidence because I had the idea for Harry Potter when I was 25 and I’d done a lot of writing before then, but I was extraordinarily insecure and very rarely shared anything that I’d written. I wrote some spoof things for friends to make them laugh, but I never shared anything that I’d written in earnest because I was quite insecure. But of course performers are different and they are driven to share in a way that writers don’t do; obviously we live in a far more introverted life, but… I am drawn to biographies of people like Hendrix because I am just in awe of what they did and what they achieved.

River Song by Dennis Wilson – reminding her of the pandemic during lockdown

This is always going to remind me of the pandemic, this song, because I’ve been listening to his album Pacific [Ocean] Blue which is a bit of an undiscovered gem. I’d had it for a while and listened to it, but it seems to be speaking to me in lockdown and River Song – maybe it resonates because certainly lots of my friends have talked about rediscovering being in the natural world in lockdown – having space and time to appreciate the small things. That’s not to say that any of us wouldn’t change things in a heartbeat, but it has brought a lot of us closer to family. Just having time to enjoy small things has been one small upside of the pandemic

Waitress by First Aid Kit – reminding her of an old friend

I think they’re kind of wonderful. This song in particular reminds me of one of my oldest friends Lynn she and I were in Paris together, we’d never have met otherwise because she’s American. There’s something about our shared nomadic tendencies in this song because it is a song about escape and reinvention. Now I’m very fortunate, I no longer feel the desire to escape or to reinvent myself I am very happy and I have a wonderful family. But I think this is a song about young women feeling displaced and feeling anxious and I think that’s the reason both of us particularly love this track.

On her lack of belief/confidence in writing

You have to push through your lack of belief. Certainly with Potter and with other things I’ve written, I’ve put them down for months at a time. I have got better at believing that I can push through. I remember when I was writing Potter I was writing two other things simultaneously and slowly but surely I realised that Potter was the best of them. And even though I was very insecure I just kept pushing on, pushing on. Actually, the thing that pushed me to complete the book and really to have belief, was having made such a mess of my life generally. In fact I do remember feeling, ‘Look, so you get turned down by every publisher in the country, what’s to lose now?’ Well you know, it was even that I thought it would be a massive success because I certainly didn’t. What I did believe was, I came to a point where I thought, ‘This is a good story and I’m going to put everything into this and see what happens.’ And I’d lost the fear of failing or rejecting that had probably hampered me a little bit early on in my writing.

On the Robert Galbraith books being a desire to that that the writing was as good as she thought it was and it wasn’t her name that was selling?

Yeah, that was definitely in there. I think I had a real yen to go back to the beginning, to go back to what’s important. And to get unvarnished criticism. And so I became Robert and it was a fantastic experience. I can honestly say the rejection letters were fantastic. I know that sounds bizarre and masochistic, but it was satisfying because I was getting unvarnished feedback and I was resilient enough to think, ‘Well that is a fair comment, but no I don’t agree with that comment’ because you’ve got to have faith in what you’re doing but I’ve never been arrogant enough not to believe that I need feedback and a good editor is essential, however successful you are.

Ramble On by Led Zeppelin – growing up

When I was really young, I mean sixteen or seventeen, growing up on the Welsh border, Led Zeppelin was a real thing for me as an adolescent and my oldest friend Sean he loved Zeppelin and it was something we shared. I just love Ramble On.

Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers – on a moving marital moment and lockdown being a special time with her family

JK: Well I think of all the love songs written, this might be my favourite. It’s such a beautiful, simple sentiment, but I have an additional reason for choosing it, which is that it took lockdown for my husband to say to me… I was playing it in the kitchen while cooking something; he walked in, he said,  ‘This always makes me think of you when you’re down in London’ and that was a very moving marital moment so now it has an extra layer of meaning for me. [On lockdown]…. Well, I hope that all listeners have had the happy experience that I’ve had of it being quite a special time. We also have teenage kids and it’s been kind of wonderful to spend that extra time with them.

On being involved with the screen adaptations of her work

JK: Well, interestingly, I’ve been much more involved in the TV show than I have been with the movies. With the TV show, because I’m writing a series about my detectives, Strike and Robin, I have been very involved because I didn’t want the TV show to take them to places that I know they wouldn’t go because I know what’s coming, so that’s been such a happy project. I’ve loved all of it and I think and believe it’s been a very happy experience for everyone involved… a lovely cast and amazing crew, it’s been really satisfying…. It’s always a challenge because certain changes need to be made between novel and screen and I’m always sympathetic to that; different media have different demands, but the tv adaptations of the Galbraith novels I think have been very very faithful.

On fan feedback before it was known she was writing as Robert Galbraith

JK: The first three months I had, when no one knew it was me and I was Robert Galbraith, and Robert started to get letters… and fan feedback which was so genuine and so lovely. I think what people are mostly drawn to are the central relationship between the two detectives and I’m constantly being asked, ‘When are they going to get together?’ So, yeah, I think people will be happy with this book because they certainly do advance in their relationship, though possibly not quite the advance that everyone’s hoping for, but I loved writing that [latest book], it was a joy.

Dream On Dreamer by Brand New Heavies – on dreaming that Potter might be a success

JK: This is such a personal and meaningful track to me. When I was finishing the first Potter book, this track was being played constantly on the radio, and in one of the cafes that I used to write in, it felt as though this song was played every three minutes and I can remember more than once asking myself, ‘Is that who you are, are you the dreamer?’ [for] thinking that this can be published or will be published? But I still had this degree of belief in the story that quelled my doubts and made me keep working, difficult though it was at that time, so it always takes me back to just being on the threshold of the insanity that then ensued, because at that time I could have had no idea what was coming.

[indestinatus]

The Photograph

(Cairo - chapter 1/4)

“Okay, Tali, time for bed,” said Tony, kissing her head from where she remained curled up beside him on the couch.

"Abba, movie,” she asked, looking up to him with her big chocolate eyes. He loved those eyes. They reminded him of someone.

“We’ve already watched two, sweet cheeks.”

The snow fell unrelenting outside, covering the dimly lit streets of Paris, but Tali’s sweet giggle warmed the apartment as Tony tickled her sides and raised her in the air.

“Even little ninjas need to go to bed,” Tony declared, as he carried his little girl in his arms to the other room. She smacked his cheek, still laughing.

Tony laid her to her tiny pink bed and kissed her forehead. Tali grabbed her two fuzzy toys tightly, her ritual every night. A little dog Ziva packed with her named Kelev and a worn-out hippo with a gothic collar, which Abby gave her as a welcoming gift, Bert.

Already tightly tucked in bed, Tali gradually opened a smile and sent puppy eyes Tony’s way.

“Pleeease?”

“Okay, T, but only one, alright?” he declared as he laid himself down next to her, pulling her close to his chest.

Tony took the photo from her bedside table and turned on the fairy lights. The room turned into various shades of gold and Tali twinkled her eyes, not showing any sign of tiredness.

"Which one would you like?” he asked her, eyes watering with the sight of his picture with Ziva in Paris. Every time he glanced at it, his chest ached. She looked stunning, just as she did that day, riding that motorcycle, hair unbound.

"Box,” Tali declared, to no surprise to her father. It was one of her favorites.

"The box one, got it. But real quick, okay?”

“Humpf.”

"One cold, but very sunny, afternoon, many years ago, papa Gibbs asked Ima and Abba to go searching for a pirate who worked in the Norfolk Docks, an ugly pirate named… Ray…”

“Ray no.”

“Then what’s his name, princess Tali?”

“Butterfly.”

Tony burst out laughing at that. “Okay, sweet cheeks, let me finish then,” he said. She was just like her mother, always contradicting him.

God, he missed her.

“A ruthless, cruel and a widely famous pirate named… Captain Butterfly… who was smuggling weapons and gold inside his ship, to the faraway and dangerous lands of… Iraq. He stocked his treasures inside a massive box, bigger than you and bigger even than me, and everyone knew it was forbidden to enter it. But Ima and Abba were brave, just like you Tali, and had a job to do for papa Gibbs. So they entered the box to seek the treasures. But… it was a magic box, and just like that,” Tony snapped his fingers, “It locked with them inside it. They were trapped.”

"Hours passed and no one came to their aid, and the magic box started moving! We were trapped inside a moving thing! We had to act quickly, so Ima and I started to put our brilliant minds into action. Well, as you know, she’s way smarter than me, and after much discussion, we came to a solution.”

“As two very special agents trapped inside the cold magic box of Captain Butterfly do, we started to throw his treasure away, for papa Gibbs to find our tracks, just like Hansel and Gretel. It was a brilliant idea, to be honest, but what we didn’t realize was that it was gold we were throwing away! Gold! And civilians walking by started to pick it up and erase our path! We were locked in and now invisible as well.”

“But, as you also know, we had papa Gibbs. And he’s the most perceptive man I know, so he figured it out fast enough. And he soon managed to get us out of the magic box of Captain Butterfly, using his secret password. He never told any of us what that was, though. He’s a man of many secrets. And that was one of the many times Abba fell more in love with Ima.”

“Mooore.”

“I'm sorry, princess, it's time for bed” said Tony, as he kissed the photograph, “now you,” and Tali kissed it too.

“Good night, mon Coeur,” he told her as he kissed her little forehead one more time and turned off the lights.

“Luv you, Abba.”

“Love you too, sweet cheeks.”

Snow continued to fall outside.

That night, Tony didn’t leave the picture on Tali’s bedside table. This story was one of the most difficult to tell. He walked slowly to stand near the fireplace, the photo of his past lover in hand, and let the flames illuminate their smiling faces, a memory he so fondly returned to every now and then.

Ziva loves Paris. He missed her so much, more every day. Her secretive smile to him, her constant bickering, their forbidden love. Tali was growing up too fast and she wasn’t there to witness it. To be by his side. One of the things he thought about most was how good she’d be as a mother. He was so profoundly sorry time didn’t have the best timing for him to see that.

And now he was alone. For good.

Silent tears spilled over his cheeks, as the image of them happy in Paris a lifetime ago burned in his mind.

What.

The flames illuminated the back of the picture, turning it to bright orange.

There was something written in it.

Tony DiNozzo took the frame out as fast as he could, heartbeat racing.

It’s been six months since Tali arrived at the navy yard doors, six months since he started to look for any trace of Ziva like a madman. Six months he bothered McGee everyday, tracing calls and fighting for her, his hope fading with time, but always there. She was always in the back of his head, and their memories blurred his vision wherever he went.

There was indeed a message. He couldn’t think straight.

And here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; that which is essential is invisible to the eye.

November 21st, 2016

That which is essential is invisible to the eye.

That’s her quote, the quote she shared when he was telling her about his mother, years ago. The Little Prince.

God, what did it even mean?

And here is my secret, a very simple secret.

That she was alive? It was too vague, he was seeing things, wishful thinking. Or perhaps…

It is only with the heart that one can see rightly.

Why did she write that? She’d sent that picture with Tali, packed along with all her other things, so the message was surely for him.

She had sent that with Tali. She’d had enough time to do that. How… strange.

That which is essential is invisible to the eye.

"Oh", escaped his lips, out loud.

It was all a decoy, wasn’t it? It was invisible for everyone, they all had believed she was dead, gone with the flames in Israel and leaving only her daughter behind. They stopped looking because they didn’t see anything. They just saw her confirmed dead. Even Gibbs. He didn't go looking for her.

They didn’t know her well, though.

He knew her. He knew what was invisible, the wrongness of it all. Ziva David, former Mossad officer, had enough time to save her daughter with everything essential to her packed and ready to leave but didn’t have time to save herself? Time to go into hiding?

November 21st, 2016.

2016.

Today was November 16th, this date was five days in the future. It still didn’t come to pass.

Why write it like that? Why? Why? Why on the 21st of November?

Important dates, official days, birthdays, everything muddled up inside Tony’s racing mind. Clouded thoughts.

Tali. Tali’s birthday.

Her little sister Tali’s birthday was November 21st. And every year she…

She went to an opera house to honor her sister.

This was a message. This was a message for him.

For him, who knew her, who took care of her many years ago on that same date, blasting music loudly in the bullpen because she had to stay working late.

This was a message for him.

She was alive. She was alive. She was alive.

Anthony DiNozzo let out a harsh chuckle, one he carried with him since he first knew about the fire. Since he started hoping everything was a lie. He was dreaming, he was…

He had to go. Now. This was five days away.

Tony ran to their daughter’s bedroom, not being able to contain his sudden euphoria. He turned the lights on quickly, only to find Tali still up, but pretending to be asleep, as if only to please her father. She was grasping Ziva’s necklace with one of her little hands and the other one was in her mouth as she was sucking her thumb.

“Let’s pack our things, princess,” he said, already grabbing the suitcase from her wardrobe, “we’re going to find Ima.”

"Ima!”, declared Tali with a big smile, quickly dismissing the act of sleeping with the mention of her mother.

Tony looked back at her, beaming widely, the first time he let himself do that freely for ages.

"She's in Cairo.”

chapter 2, chapter 3