#flying very close to the sun by typing her full name on this post too

[artigas]

am i truly expected to wake up every goddamn day and keep my unbridled (and correct) hatred for taylor swift all to myself just because i want to make and keep friends? hell is empty and all the devils are here

[bebepac]

The Double Date Mistake?

I am participating in @wackydrabbles​ prompt # 92 “I don’t think that was meant to go there.” will appear in bold.

This is also chapter 2 of The Meet:  To catch up on what you’ve been missing of the Meet so far Please click:  The Meet Masterlist

Original Post Date: 05/01/2021 at 3:15PM

The Book:  TRR

The Pairing:  Liam x F!OC (Liam x Jilian) 

Word Count: 1948

Summary: Jilian goes on a double date with Bebe and meets Leo for the very first time.  Jilian and Bebe share how they first met each other to the guys.  

Warnings: Sexual innuendos.  Profanity.  

Leo and Liam belong to pixelberry, Jilian belongs to @queenjilian borrowed for the duration of this series. All others are my own to help us tell the story.  

“And done. He has your number now Jili. Now fly my little birdies fly.”  

She thought he would text right away but he didn’t.  The whole way to Bebe’s apartment the twenty minute drive Jili’s phone was silent.

Bebe looked at Jili as she glanced at her phone.  What the actual hell?

She texted Jilian.

“Bebe why the hell are you texting me? I’m sitting right next to you?”

“I was just making sure your phone was on.”  

“I mean he’s still working Bebe.  He can’t just drop everything and just start texting away.”

“The hell he can’t. What in the actual fuck is wrong with you bruh?” Bebe grumbled as she angrily typed on her phone.

“Wing Woman are you trying to crash this plane?”

“The mother  hasn’t even taken off yet with you two trying to pilot it. I’m gonna need you to get your life together Jili.”  

The driver pulled to a stop. “Damn I really wanted to see how this turned out.”

Bebe got out of the car in a huff.

“I’ll let you know.”   Jili called out the window to her.

Jilian wasn’t going to let it stress her out.  He was still at work. She knew her job got busy at times, and she couldn’t just sit on her phone and do nothing.  As she was walking up the stairs to scan her door key fob, the phone rang.

It was a local number she didn’t recognize.

“Hello?”

“Jilian. It’s Liam.”

“Hi Liam.”

“I apologize for not texting or calling sooner.  Things got busy at work.”

“Oh I figured that was what happened.”  

"Bebe is something else. I feel a little attacked. I can tell it's from a place of love though."

"She's my best friend Liam. My true sister from another mister."

"So it's safe to assume you are single?" Liam inquired.

"I am, and for you the same?"

"Yes Jilian I am. Is it forward of me to say maybe we can change that for each other. I would really like to see you again. I'm off next Friday would you be free then?"

Jilian sighed.

"Friday is my date night."

"Oh. I just assumed you being single you weren’t seeing anybody even casually."

"With Bebe. We restaurant hop. We're self proclaimed foodies. 

Do you have any friends maybe we could double?”

“My brother, both him and Bebe have big personalities, I think they’d really get along.  Think she would be okay with that?”

“Yeah I think I could convince her.”  

They continued to talk, and about everything under the sun.  Liam was funny and witty and kept her attention.

She began to realize how much she had in common with the charming Liam Rys.  

She had cuddled into her bed under her covers laughing and chatting with him.  She finally rolled over realizing it was almost dawn.

“Oh my God! Is that the sun?!?!?!” she shrieked, surprised into the phone.

“I’m so sorry Jilian I completely lost track of time.”

“I have to go, I have to be at work in forty five minutes!!!”

Jilian said her goodbyes to Liam and hurried to work.  

Right when Jilian was sitting in her office reading over her chart  for her first patient’s checkup, there was a delivery.  

A large coffee drink had been delivered to her with a sweet gooey cinnamon bun.

“Gift for you Jilian Winchester.”  

Liam was really sweet.

She texted him thank you.

He had let her know he had an extra espresso shot added to her coffee.

Liam was a lifesaver.  

*^*^*^*^* The Double Date *^**^*^*^*

When Jili and Bebe got to the restaurant  Liam and Leo were already seated at the table both stood to greet them.  

Liam softly kissed  Jili’s cheek.  

Bebe glanced at Leo.  He was cute, but he was probably about five inches shorter than Bebe, not to mention Bebe was wearing heels making her tower over Leo.

Liam changed the subject breaking the ice between everyone, and the conversation between the couples started flowing.  

Jilian slipped in the subject of Liam and Leo honestly not looking much like each other.  

“We’re half brothers, we have different mothers. But don’t get it twisted Bebe.  I can scale you like Mount Everest. Taller women don’t intimidate me one bit.”

“Um….thank you for that blatant honesty…. Jili will you accompany me to the restroom please?”  

“Excuse us for a moment.”  Jili smiled politely.  

“Absolutely not Jili!!!!!”  Bebe was adamant when the door to the bathroom closed.  

“Bebe I didn’t know!  I swear when he said older brother, I was thinking he looked like him.  You would think older brothers are taller, bigger, and wiser. He is funny though.  You two do have similar personalities. Maybe try to focus on that Bee.  Let’s just try to have a fun time.  You don’t have to see Leo again.  But I know I want to see Liam again. I like him.”  

“You owe me big for this!!!”

Both women come back to the table.  Their drink orders had arrived.  Bebe takes a long sip on her drink.  

“That’s what I’m talking about!”  Leo smiled.  “A girl after my own heart.”  

“How did you and Bebe meet Jilian?”  

“We actually met in NOLA. We were both presenting at a medical conference.  Bebe for the Pharma side, because she’s a pharmacist,  and me for medical for being a nurse practitioner focused in the at risk population.”

Leo eyes flit to Bebe.

“So you’re a drug dealer?”  

Bebe smiled.  “ Legal Drug Dealer. Yep, that’s what I call myself. I’m slinging pills to pay the bills.”  

“I can dig it.”  

“We met the night before our conference began, in a bar.”  

When Jilian walked into the bar she noticed her right away.  There was a woman at the bar,  drinking her drink telling what appeared to be a funny story that had multiple people’s attention.  All were laughing with her.   She had to be a local. Jili thought.  

She had strings of beads around her neck.  

“What can I get ya?”  the bartender asked.  

She looked at Bebe.  “I want whatever she’s having.”  Bebe was the life of the party.  

“Well I did a little pre-gaming at the drive through daiquiri shop though. 

But mostly Hurricanes.  Get her a Hurricane Sal.”  

The bartender winked at Bebe.  

“Don’t skimp on the good stuff either!”  She yelled out.

Jilian’s eyes widened when the bartender  brought her the drink.

Bebe held up her glass to clink with Jilian’s glass.

“Laissez le bon temps rouler!!!!!”   The crowd screamed in agreement at Bebe’s declaration.

“What?”  

“LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL!!!!!”  

Jilian took a long drink of the cocktail.  No wonder.  

“Yep! You like it.  I’m Bebe, what’s your name?”

“Jilian.”  

“I’m gonna call you Jili.  What brings you to NOLA?”  

“Work, a conference.”  

“Bleh you said the “W.” word.  That’s not existing in my life right now.  We’re here, we’re alive, no regrets Jili.  Let your hair down and enjoy yourself.  I mean literally.  That bun is a buzz kill.”  

Jili pulled the pins out of her hair shaking out her locks.  

“So much better!!!! You’re a babe!!!  See they’re already looking at you differently.  We’re not interested though.  Unless they’re buying more drinks.”  

Jili glanced at the guys that were now looking in her direction.  

“You’ve got a lot of bead necklaces going on.”   Jili commented.  

“There are two ways to get beads in NOLA.  Buy them or earn them.”

Jili looked at Bebe and raised her eyebrow with a smile.

“Let me guess, your ass hasn’t spent a dime tonight.”  

Bebe took a long sip of her hurricane.  

“Nope.  Not a single dime.  Including alcohol.  I'll tell you what Jili.  Life’s too short.  I’m not going to regret any of my choices.  I spent a year in Costa Rica, living my life Pura Vida.”

“Pure Life.”  Jilian smiled.  Bebe was a carefree spirit, and people gravitated to her.

“We’re only here for a blink Jili.  How do you want your story to be told?”

She decided to throw caution to the wind and party the night away with Bebe.

Jilian’s alarm went off the next morning.  She was incredibly hung over as she tried to pull herself together.  

She had a random memory of her and Bebe walking down  Bourbon Street singing “Lean on Me”  while they were linked arm and arm.  The drunk leading the more drunk back to the hotel.

She smiled, straightening her black business suit.  She was about to pull her hair up into her signature bun but decided to let her tresses fall free instead.  

As she was getting checked into the convention she slipped her ID badge and program of speakers, herself among the list.  

She heard her laugh.  Jili whipped her head around and saw Bebe at the back of the line with two others.  Bebe was wearing a bright pink business suit, and her shoes and clutch had the print of medications on it.  

“The legal drug dealers have arrived!!!! Big Pharma in da house!!!!!!”  

Jili laughed, shaking her head.  

“That’s how we met Liam.”  

“We found out later we lived near each other, and made plans to meet up.  Been friends ever since.  That was like six years ago.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask us how we met.”  Leo asked.

“I assume you are brothers…. You met… at birth?”

Bebe shook her head at Leo.

Everyone was calm after not to mention the alcohol free flowing.  They headed to  a lounge after dinner, called Blue Notes.  The music there was full of soul and blues.  

The drinks continued. The music there stirred the soul.  

“May I have this dance?”  Jili nodded, taking Liam’s hand.   He held her close.  

Leo eyed Bebe.   “You know, I have always been one to have a huge case of FOMO.  So you and me let’s hit the dance floor too.”  

Bebe downed her drink in one swallow.  “Why the hell not.”  

They walked out to the dance floor.  With Bebe’s high heels Leo was chest level to her.  He pulled her close resting his head on her bosom.

“Um….so we’re doing this… okay…”  Bebe looked surprised but she was smiling.

Liam laughed softly when he glanced in their direction.

“I don’t think that was meant to go there.”  

“The height difference honestly never crossed my mind Jilian.  Things seemed really awkward for them for a bit, for more so Bebe.  Not so awkward now.”  

Bebe and Leo were looking at each other laughing.

“You know this is never going to happen Leo Rys.”  

“A man can dream.  Well….It could happen for the night.  I can tell you’re curious. Let me tickle your fancy tonight.”

Bebe laughed harder at him.  “You don’t give up do you Leo?”

“Nope because I get what I want.”    

“If nothing else Jilian, I think they will at least be friends from this, if nothing romantic happens.”

The next morning Liam was cooking  breakfast when Bebe walked out of Leo’s room. Leo’s sweatpants looked like capris on Bebe.  

“Good Morning Bebe. Would you like some breakfast?”  

“Sure.”

Leo walked out of the room a few minutes later.  

Liam smiled looking at the two of them.  

“Breakfast Leo?”  

“I already ate.”  Leo winked at Bebe.

Bebe choked on her orange juice.  

“Oh you were talking about bacon and eggs, sure.”  

Nope not at all awkward at all.  Liam thought as he fixed plates for himself Leo and Bebe.

Bebe was climbing in her ride share when her phone rang.

“Bebe… Liam just told me you had breakfast with him and Leo… at his apartment.  You spent the night with Leo?”  

“Leo was right, Jili.  Not all of him is fun sized.”

Tags in the comments !!!! 

[chaotically-chill]

Brother

a clingy duo story

I’m going to try and post more stuff on here, just trying to figure out a format and a schedule lmao :)

The oak had aged, Tubbo noticed as he grazed his hand over the rough wood, its planks sun-bleached with time and warped with the memories it had been burdened with. The bench was warm, loved by the sun for years while it was kept empty of visitors. He remembered the first time he and Tommy had sat down on the bench, watching the sun set behind the tree-blurred horizon line. He grimaced as the tired wood creaked under him as he sat down, wondering what his counterpart would say when he saw how evolved the bench had become.

“Those were the good days, weren’t they?” Tubbo flinched at Tommy’s voice, uncharacteristically reminiscent.

Tubbo chuckled, “Yeah, the good days: constantly avoiding TNT and running into enemy territory while trying to find food for some meager dinner.”

“If only Niki had joined earlier, we’d be eating like royalty.” Tommy laughed, easing himself onto the bench next to Tubbo. “But I’m serious, we were so awesome together back then.”

Tubbo looked down, fiddling with the ring strung through the chain around his neck, “We were only awesome because we were young. Because we didn’t have to worry about the regrets we would have.”

Tommy leaned back against the wood, closing his eyes as if he could relive every single word they had said to each other. “We were the founders of a nation that had grown from a drug van, a fucking drug van, Tubbo. A tiny little caravan with a flaming hot dog on top, smoking out of the windows with Wilbur’s projects. We created something incredible out of that! You and I, Tubbo. We did that. You and I.”

He had to admit, there was a beauty to the harsh environment he had lived in for so long while in the midst of a war. But that war had ended, like so many others that he had plunged himself into, and they had taken different paths, traveling the same road in two different directions. He never wanted to admit that the Tommy he knew back then was not the Tommy sitting next to him, he had changed, with time, with trauma. But Tubbo had changed as well, and maybe it was the changes he had undergone that forced him to rip down the veil of juvenile ignorance, or maybe it was time and age that had led him to finally look through it.

Yet, here they were, sitting on the same bench, looking at the same sunset, finally meeting on the same road once more, even for just a small lapse of time. But sunsets don’t last forever.

“Trees grow, Tommy. They grow and their branches and leaves grow to shade away the sun. It’s just that sometimes the branches cover the sun completely, leaving the rest of us in the dark.”

Tommy looked at him, eyes a shade of blue Tubbo could never quite remember the name of, but they conveyed the same memories as his. Memories of unspeakable horrors and sad truths and beautiful beginnings and endings, they were all the same to the two boys. “Can’t we trim back the branches? Just for a day?”

Tubbo smiled, “Yeah, yeah we can.”

The two stood from the bench, silently apologizing for the violent creaking of the wood as they relieved their pressure from it, and walked over to Tommy’s home.

They returned to the bench shortly after with soap and water and fresh screws. The sun was almost gone now, Tubbo noted as he scrubbed away years of dirt and blood and grime from the wood. Memories neither him nor Tommy wanted to look back on. Tommy was next to him, replacing rusty nails and screws with new ones. When they had finished, the two brothers stood back and admired their work, both remembering the first time they had done this, tired and sweaty and weak. But this was now, after they had grown stronger, mentally and physically. After they had seen war and peace and exile and execution. They wiped no sweat from their brows, only tears from their eyes.

“Remember that time,” Tommy fell back against the revived seat, “we were in the middle of battle. There were arrows flying everywhere, nobody could tell whose was whose, and you were right in the middle of it all.”

Tubbo remembered, although he tried not to. “You must have seen me or something, ‘cause the next thing I remember is you covering me while I reloaded my crossbow. You emptied your arrow supply to keep me safe.”

“You know why?”

He shrugged, “Because we’re friends?”

“Because we’re brothers, Big Man. And I’d do it again. Because I know you would do the same for me. Even if I was dying and couldn’t escape to safety, I just know that you would be there in seconds to rescue me. And if you were drowning out there in the ocean, I promise you, pinky promise, swear on my goddamn life, I would give you my fucking lungs if that meant you would be able to swim to the shore. We’re brothers, Tubbo. I’ve got you, brother. I always will.”

He could feel the tears in his throat, muffling his words. But they both knew there was no need for such things like conversation. Their history spoke for them, their memories of sitting on that very same bench, leaning against each other to keep from drifting off to much needed sleep while the soft melodies from the jukebox carried on and on and on. Tubbo threw himself forward, wrapping his scarred arms around Tommy’s battle-worn chest. He felt Tommy return the favor and they stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, exchanging words that could not be conveyed using vocal cords.

The next day, they did the same, sitting on the bench they had built and rebuilt, watching the sun disappear behind the trees. They came back the day after that, and then the day after that. Before long, they knew to wait for the other before putting in a disc to listen to.

They didn’t often talk, they didn’t see the reason to do so. They just sat next to each other, enjoying the quiet company of brothers.

And then Tubbo found himself waiting at the bench alone. He waited, and waited and waited and waited. Tommy never came. And then, right as he was typing out a message to the missing boy, a message popped up on his comm.

TommyInnit was beaten to death by Dream

He didn’t react with words. Couldn’t bring himself to scream anger or grief. Tubbo simply sat down on the bench, and sobbed. He stayed at the bench for hours after the sun left him to be alone with his grief.

He came back the next day, dried tears still on his cheeks. They didn’t come today. Today he just thought. Thought about how much faith Tommy had put into him. Thought about how much he failed his one, true friend. His brother in arms. He couldn’t think about anything else. It was too much, he couldn’t breathe. The guilt was weighing too much on his shoulders. He was drowning.

He came back the next day. And then the next. And the next. People would walk past, offering words of consolation and sympathy, but all they could find was a boy who just wanted his friend back. Nobody could do that. Nobody who wasn’t responsible for his death in the first place. People stopped trying to comfort him.

The sun was setting as Tubbo played with the gold rings on a necklace around his neck, humming Mellohi absentmindedly. Then, “Those were the good days, weren’t they?” Tubbo flinched at Tommy’s voice, uncharacteristically reminiscent. He shot straight up from the bench, disbelief plastered on his face. Tubbo tried to speak, but only half words and stutters left his mouth. It was good enough for Tommy. “I told you, Big Man, I’d give you my lungs so you could breathe.”

Tubbo barreled into Tommy, feeling the grateful warmth of his brother as he wrapped his arms around the sobbing boy. He cried apologies and relieved words that were all the same to Tommy’s ears. They were safe now, in each other’s arms. Safe from the horrors of war and death and betrayal and loss. They never let go of each other, at least, not figuratively. They were always there for the other, to stand arm in arm against an army of soldiers. But they always came back to the bench, everyday, washing away the dirt and grime, laughing about memories of the past and the present. Every day. Every single day. Two brothers sitting at a bench that had carried them through life and death and life again. People walked past them on their way to and from business, every day. They watched the two boys grow into men, and even then, not a single day went past where the laughter of brothers didn’t light up the faces of everyone who walked past. Tommy and Tubbo grew, never apart, always trimming back the leaves of the tree. Then, as they left one late night, they grasped their hands together, and made a promise. A promise of brothers, of ties that could never fray, a promise that broke all others, and walked through the Prime Path, and into L’Manburg. And that was their dying day. That was their promise.

The oak had aged, Niki noticed, as she ran her fingers through the deep grooves of the bench. She had brought a pail full of soapy water and a sponge, sat down next to the bench, and got to work. The wood was warm, well loved by the sun while it waited for its visitors. She remembered the first time she sat on the bench distantly, but the memory of her standing side by side with Tommy and Tubbo in front of their bench, promising them that everything would be alright was forever sewn into her mind. It was so long ago, most in her position would have forgotten it, but she never did. For how could one forget the legacy that the two boys shared?

[morepeachyogurt]

we are good people (and we've suffered enough)

word count- 2.5k      Pairing- Temily

Summary- After Scratch, Tara and Emily run away to Italy to start a new life, ft. cats, cafes, and gardening. Based on this post, and this prompt. 

Part 2 of my, maybe we’re from the same star, series, work is a standalone, part 1

read here on ao3

tw’s- very minor mentions of substances and ptsd

Things were never the same after Mr. Scratch. The two of them were filled with more trauma than they had room for in their hearts to still hold each other in. Nights were no longer filled with a movie and cuddling, or talking about philosophy but tense sentences, paranoia, and nightmares. Tara knew that something needed to change, anything to stop the monotony of desolation. But still, they went to work every day and drowned their sorrows in killers like that would bring back the part of her that died when Scratch took Emily. There are only so many times one can be held captive and wait for death before something inside them breaks.

One night they get wine drunk, Emily laying sidewise on their black couch, and Tara sitting on the table staring at the ceiling.

“I miss being young, god, that’s such a weird thing to say. I mean, I spent my youth hating it. Hated my mother, and all of our traveling, never could make friends. I hated that I never belonged, hated not being in control of my own life, and here I am 50 years old working for the government that I used to despise trying not to cry myself to sleep every night,” her voice takes on a bitter tone.

“We love in our old age the things we hated as children. Does that make us matured or foolish?”

“Both, I think.”

“What was your favorite place to live? I mean it sounds like hell to keep moving between places but there must have been someplace you loved, right,” Tara’s voice fills with a tang of desperation as she searches for a way to help her lover.

“Rome. The weather and the scenery,” her voice takes on a dreamy tone, “and the food! Man, the food is good, don’t tell Rossi but his carbonara tastes like Olive Garden compared to the real thing,” they both chuckled at that, knowing it would have sent Rossi in a fit if he were to hear that.

“That sounds really nice honey.”

“I miss it sometimes you know? I think about how gorgeous everything was. It feels like home in my distant memories.”

“Then let’s do it. Lets, go move to Rome. You aren’t happy here Emily, I know you say you are, but you do this job for our team, not the position now. I miss when you laughed,” both of them sobered up by now, knowing that it has taken a turn for the more serious.

“No, no we can’t. I, I can’t keep leaving this team and our friends. And, people need us. You love this job Tara I can’t take that away from you, not for me.”

“They’d understand Emily, they all love you so much. Yeah, I love this job, I won’t lie. But, I love you more, and I’m not happy if you aren’t. So let’s do it. Let’s fucking run away to Rome together and be happy .” The two sit in silence for a minute, the unanswered question still hanging in the air.

“Okay. Let’s do it. Maybe I’ll fulfill my long-lost dream to have a nice, big garden.”

The team took it surprisingly well, they’d all noticed a change in Emily in the months following Scratch and knew that Tara had Emily’s best interest at heart. Of course, they were sad to lose two of the best members of their team, but Emily was family, and family looks out for each other.

“I’m going to miss you my favorite dynamic duo and your guys’ jokes. Ugh, it’s going to be so quiet without you two lovely ladies,” her eyes are welling with unshed tears as she says goodbye to more of her family, “Send me things from Rome or I will install a virus in your phones,” they both laughed at Penelope’s antics and promised her that they’d send as much stuff as they could. The last two weeks of their stay in the United States were filled with mixed emotions. They were excited to start the next chapter of their lives together. Away from all the serial killers and monstrous people out there. They could finally live with a fraction of the naivety that most people carry. On the other hand, Tara only speaks minimal Italian, and now they’re going to be living in a brand-new country, surrounded by strangers. A fresh start, but one filled with anxiety.

“Okay 4:30 is way too early for a flight,” Emily grumbled as they made their way to the airport. The pair had woken up at three, knowing that Tara can’t sleep on planes they tried to go to bed early and were now making their way to the airport in the dead of morning.

“Wait, babe, look! It’s a full moon,” they pulled over just for a moment and got out of the car to sit on the hood. The silence between the two is peaceful, the wind was the only whisper in the air. Moonlight shone on Tara’s face and Emily knew that there was no sight in the world as beautiful as this. With the moon reflected in her eyes and a small simple ghosting on her lips. She’s home.

Security was a breeze, they are former FBI agents after all, and they made their way to their gate. Airports always have a certain air to them, a place where time seizes to exist yet completely runs the place. Their gate was quiet, filled with the tired murmuring of people excited to travel.

“Tara, honey, wake up we’re boarding.”

It was odd for the two of them to be flying commercial after all those years on private jets. It was nice to feel normal though, to fade in the background instead of being other . Human desire is both to be noticed and forgotten all at once.

Italy’s airport is very similar to the DC airport, it would seem like they never left. Outside was a whole different story, bustling crowds and hot air hits them as soon as they step outside the building. They had picked out a quaint apartment building a week prior. Yellow walls with a terrace looking out to an alley. The couple's belongings had been shipped and were waiting to be unpacked. Not right then though. Now, it was time to explore.

Hand in hand they walked leisurely down the narrow alley way of the small Italian town they are now calling their home. Vines and every other type of plant that could grow did. Hanging off banisters, and climbing up orange brick walls. The sunlight was close to blinding, and it hit Emily just right. The golden rays hitting her face and illuminating the ghost of the smile now appearing on Emily’s face. That smile told Tara all she needed to know about their decision. Emily catches her staring, “What are you looking at,” humor evident in her voice.

“You, I’m looking at you miss Emily Prentiss. You’re smiling again,” her words come out softer than she intended, but they convey her point.

Happy couples seem to fill the streets, old and new, young and old. The town may be old, but it was filled with a life that they had been lacking. They pass a quaint little bakery. Bread, cupcakes, and assorted pastries fill the windows. There're bookshelves on all the walls filled to the brim with different books. The walls are light blue and there are flowers everywhere. It looks like something from the movies.

“Un Piccolo Angolo di Paradiso,” Emily reads the name of the building in front of them, they’ve since stopped to admire the view in front of them. It reminds the two of them how Emily asked Tara out. With a cupcake and book who had ‘I know there’s plenty of sugar in that cupcake but it’d be even sweeter if you went out with me. Let me take you to dinner Tara? ’ written on the inside.

“As much as I love hearing you speak Italian, what does that mean? Something heaven?”

“Little Slice of Heaven.” It’s truly a perfect name for the place.

“Okay, now we have to go in,” they’re both smiling now. They push open the glass doors, greeted by the high-pitched ringing of a bell and the smell of freshly baked bread.

The woman at the counter finishes the greeting, “Benvenuti nel piccolo angolo di paradiso, cosa posso offrirvi, adorabili signore?” they blush at the compliment and Emily orders them both cupcakes and coffee. Tara busies herself with admiring the books. Some of them have the most beautiful covers she’s seen. She knows not to judge a book by its cover but sometimes the most beautiful things are just as gorgeous on the inside as out. Just like Emily. She buys a book, and they take their drink and desserts to go. They make their way to a waterfront and sit down on the stairs, side by side.

“Rome is just as beautiful as I remembered. I missed it. It really does feel like home, although, anywhere I’m with you is home,” at the end of her sentence, she turns to face Tara, a look of pure love shown clearly on her face. And for that, Tara just has to kiss her.

The next day they unpack their boxes of belongings into their apartment to help rid the homesickness. Paintings go up on the walls and furniture is placed with the best view in mind. After a couple of hours they’re done, their apartment a bit more homey than before. They crack open a bottle of wine, put on an album, and sit out on the terrace. They watch the sun set over the water, the sounds of big band music filter in as the soundtrack for their night. The sky painted yellow, orange, and pink in the way only nature can create. If nature were an artist they’d be in every museum and sold to the wealthy. Instead, they are for the masses, the beauty of nature is for all to enjoy, free of cost, for those who wish to escape and fly into the night sky.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” Tara leans forward on the balcony, not taking her eyes off the view in front of her, even as the colors begin to fade the sky darkens.

“No, tell me, what?”

“I always wanted to open my own bakery. I know it’s stupid, me a baker. But, I don’t know making things, it feels so uncomplicated. Just me and the dough.”

“In this alternate universe, I’d be a gardener. You and your dough and me and my flowers against the world Tara. Wait a second. I think you and I are onto something my dear,” Emily’s joined Tara at the balcony, the two of them leaning against the railing.

“Actually? You’re serious? You want to do this.?”

“Yeah! Why not? We’ve got enough money in the bank for us to last a bit, you can work at Un Piccolo Angolo di Paradiso,” the Italian rolls of her tongue in a way that drives Tara nuts, “I’ll find a gardening place to work at. We’re in fucking Italy let’s make our dreams come true.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Alessia, the owner of the bakery, is pleased to have another employee. Especially one that is actually interested and isn’t in high school. Tara learns the basics of bread and pastry making. She has some skill, she used to bake with her mother before she died, it had been awhile since she had been able to bake without bumming herself out. Now it’s a nice memory of her. Gone but not forgotten, as is the saying. Emily comes in every lunch break for whatever Tara’s whipped up and to get her caffeine fix. One of the things that she still keeps from her law enforcement days.

They aren’t perfect. A move across the country isn’t going to cure PTSD, she has good days, bad days, and worse days, but now they have the time to deal with it. There was never anytime to process things at the FBI. It was always, distract yourself and throw yourself into solving cases. Now they can slow dance in the kitchen and stay up until three am telling stories from college. They fill their days with the happiness that was once stolen from them and bathe in it like perfume.

True to their word, they send Penelope all sorts of things, books from the café, pressed flowers, trinkets from the small shops to adorn her desk. In return, she sends them pictures of Sergio.

“I miss Sergio, his little paws, and his ability to climb on top of anything.”

Emily finds a job at a nearby garden that sells flower arrangements and herbs to local restaurants. It’s convenient, more than they would have thought. Emily now gets to stop into the bakery on occasion to deliver herbs and has plenty of flowers to give her lover. She also sends a few bouquets back to DC. Hoping that the flowers can brighten up the office in a way that fluorescent lights never can.

On one of their late afternoon walks, they hear a rustling by a trash can.

“What’s that noise?”

“I don’t know, let’s go look, it almost sounds like an animal. Could be a mouse,” Emily suggests, absently reaching to where her gun used to rest on her hip. They open the bag to find three small kittens. Seemly abandoned in a corner.

“Oh god, they’re so cute. We have to keep them.” It’s not a question, Tara knows that Emily is thinking the same thing, their minds connected in the way people who love each other’s minds always are. They look up the nearest veterinarian to make sure that their new pets are okay to take home and healthy.

The vet is sterile and a stark reminder of all the hospitals they’ve spent time in. Tara squeezes her girlfriend’s hand to remind her that they are both safe .

“They look fairly health, a bit malnourished but that is to be expected in these circumstances,” the vet is an elderly man with a mustache as thick as his accent,

“I’ve give them the shots they need, for now, come back in few months and let me take another look. Ciao.”

The kittens are fast asleep by the time they make it home. They gently scoop the kittens out of the bag and into their arms and the couch.

“Okay, what are we naming these angels?” Emily’s voice is pitched up as she talks to the kitten in her arms.

“Well, I’ve always been a classics enthusiast, what if we name them Artemis and Apollo?”

“That’s adorable. Little tiny archery kitties, yes, isn’t that right!” she coos, “And I think I’ll name this one Carter.”

“I love it, and you. Come on, sit with me, you look tired,” Tara grabs Emily’s hand and pulls her onto the couch. They fall over a bit and Emily yelps in surprise. They put the old music back on, a sense of peaceful needs for their new lives. The two sit on the couch, Emily’s head in her girlfriend’s lap, a hand playing with her hair. Apollo climbs on Emily’s feet and lays down to rest.

“I love you, Tara,” she doesn’t respond, just lays a gentle kiss to the back of her head.

The world is big and scary but the two of them feel safe in each other's arms.

taglist- @royalpenelope @criminalmindsvibez @haleymalaffey @scandinavian-punk @abitcriminalminds @hellskitchensmurdock @criminalmindzz2 @rosesonmyheart @ssaemxlyprentxss @reidrights if you’d like to be added to my taglist, the survey is here

[yeojaa]

someone’s someone, ii.

read part one! this is honestly just like, tooth-rotting fluff.  you’ll probably need to go to the dentist.  i’m not sorry. 

pairing.  jjk x named f!reader.  rating.  general.  tags.  so much sweetness it hurts.  that’s about it.  wc.  1k.

BIG HIT HEADQUARTERS Saturday, December 19, 2020. 12 PM.

“We don’t have to do this,”  you state, very seriously, with the same emotion drawn across your face in broad strokes - thick black Sharpie rather than fine ballpoint.  It etches deeply into every line, settling over the curve of your mouth and the indent between your brows.

He hates it, honestly.  There’s a whirlpool of emotion just beyond the careful, solemn expression you wear.  It surfaces even when you try to hide it, gleaming uncertain and a little blue.

“I know we don’t.”  

The thing is - he wants to.  It certainly won’t be the easiest thing he’s done but it feels important, like this is a step he has to take for him and for you.

It doesn’t mean he’s not just as nervous.  

He can feel the disquiet constricting his throat, buzzing from his toes all the way up to the tops of his ears.  He imagines it burns bright red, a slow rolling lava that engulfs everything it touches.  It feels a little like waking up on the wrong side of the bed.  He tries to hide it as best he can, keeping it carefully caged behind his teeth.  

“But it’ll be good for us.”  Even though he believes the words, he knows you’re having more trouble with them.  He sees the cogs turning in your head, how your chin dips in concentration.  You’d never signed up for this crazy, wonderful life.  (You’d signed up for him, though, and that was practically the same thing.  That’s what you’d said when you’d agreed to this, at least.)  He grins once - heartbreaking and encouraging and so handsome he thinks he might’ve succeeded in pulling you out of your own head.

Funny how the tables had turned.  You were usually the one doing this for him.

“Okay.”  You mean it as a reassurance - for both of you - and he presses a kiss to your temple, hoping to offer all of his support and adoration into the simple motion.

Jungkook knows he’s done so when you practically sag against him.  He does it again, peppering love across your hairline and across your cheeks until he meets your carefully, subtly painted lips.  They’re the prettiest shade of coral - a distinct step away from your usual shades of pink.  In fact, everything’s a little different today.  The hair, the makeup, even the clothes.

He thinks he likes you best when you look like yourself but he appreciates this too - knows how important a first impression will be.

“Ready?”  Side by side, hip to hip, you’re close enough he can feel the way your leg jumps beneath the table, booted foot tapping rhythmically.  Gentle pressure forces it to still, his palm warm and grounding against your knee.

You breathe in deeply then exhale all at once.  The smile you offer is his favourite, full of good intentions and devotion.  It’s a little bashful but it’s there and that’s enough for him.

“Ready.”

The VLive starts moments later, yours and his faces mirrored back at you on the computer screen in the private studio.  Within seconds, the viewer count is ascending by leaps and bounds, comments rolling in so quickly neither of you even have a chance to read them.  Hearts fly by, filling the screen. 

You really don’t know how he stays so calm, greeting the camera like an old friend.  

“Hi, ARMY.”  He waves, the biggest smile stretching over his face.  It’s hard not turning to watch him;  you have to remind yourself that you’ve got an audience of hundreds (thousands, soon-to-be millions).  He grips your hand under the table without skipping a beat.  “It’s been a long time.  Thank you for joining me for this VLive.  You can probably see that I have a special guest today.”  

The pause goes on a beat too long.  He’s watching you watching him on the screen.

“She’ll introduce herself in a second.”

Another squeeze of your hand, this time with the slightest increase of pressure.  His thumb sweeps solace over all the nerves that fizzle beneath your skin.  The viewer count keeps rolling higher and higher.

“Hi, everyone.”  Your voice sounds strange to your own ears, airy and nervous.  You hope the smile you offer makes up for it, fingers wiggling toward the camera in what’s meant to be a friendly gesture.  “My name is Yoojin.”   

He takes over seamlessly, like he’s done this a dozen times before.  You suppose he has. 

 “You guys can call her Jinny.” 

It’s impossible to miss the way the comments move in one direction, guided by his words and actions.  They all seem to be curious about the same thing:  who are you?

“I posted something a few weeks ago.  A lot of people had questions about the person in it.”  He’s referencing the Weverse mistake where you’d been caught purple-handed.  “Jinny is that person everyone was asking about.”

You try to ignore the way your heart skips a beat when he says your name and then all at once, it floods the chat.  It pops up over and over, succeeded by question marks and emoticons.  

A small part of you finds amusement in the fact that it’s spelt every way under the sun. 

“We—”  When he references the two of you as a single unit, you can’t help but smile.  You catch his own, both from the corner of your eye and on the screen.  “—wanted the chance to explain to all of you.”  The way Jungkook pauses then is careful, next words cherry picked.  “Because ARMY is very important to me, so I want you to know the person important to me, too.”

How he talks to them - to the legions of fans that support him and his members - is different than how he speaks to you.  It’s full of hope, reminiscent of a child seeking approval from the people he loves most.  Your heart stutters in your chest.  

Even after a year of countless twists and turns, he still manages to surprise you. 

You can’t help the way you turn to look at him, expression unfathomable.  It’s only because he knows you so well - can read in between all the messy lines - that he doesn’t bat an eye, steadfastly focused on the task at hand.

“If you have any questions, please comment.  We’ll try to answer them but… you guys type really, really quickly.”  The way Jungkook laughs is sweeter than sin, paired with deep wrinkles at his nose and around his eyes.  “In the meantime, we’ll tell you about us.”

He meets your stare then - full-on like he’s relying on you to guide him home or keep him safe.  Like you’re his guardian angel.

“Let’s tell them our story.”

[myfanwymusings]

MILEY CYRUS / PLASTIC HEARTS

Below is a collection of lyric starters from Miley Cyrus’ 2020 release Plastic Hearts. All lyrics are being posted in their original wording, but please feel free to change pronouns or words to fit your purposes. Please note there are references to death, toxic relationships, drug use, alcohol, and sexual relationships. Be mindful if you are sensitive to these topics. This is reposted from my former blog.

WTF Do I Know?

I'm not tryna have another conversation

I'm the type to drive a pickup through your mansion

Pourin' out a bottle full of my frustration

Here to tell you somethin' that you don't know

Am I wrong that I moved on and I and I don't even miss you?

Thought that it'd be you until I die

What the fuck do I know?

I'm alone cause I couldn't be somebody's hero

You want an apology?

I had to leave you

Think that I'm a problem? Honey, I'm the solution

Maybe all the chaos is for your amusement

Loved it, then I hate it, and I let you go

Plastic Hearts

You can be whoever you wanna be here

I should really go home  

I don't even know 'em, but they won't leave here

Pull you in, but don't you get too close

Frightened by my own reflection

Desperate for a new connection

I've been California dreamin'

Keep me up all night

I just wanna feel somethin' but I keep feeling nothin' all night long

I just wanna feel somethin'

I can be whoever you want me to be

Angels Like You

Won't call me by name, only "baby"

The more that you give, the less that I need

Everyone says I look happy

Everyone says I look happy when it feels right  

I know that you're wrong for me

It's not your fault I ruin everything

It's not your fault I can't be what you need

They say that misery loves company

Angels like you can't fly down here with me

I'm everything they said I would be

Before you let go, just one more time

Take off your clothes, pretend that it's fine

A little more hurt won't kill you

You don't look happy

Prisoner

Can't get you off my mind, lord knows I tried a million times.

Why can't you just let me go?

My hands are tied

I can't control it

I’ll never escape it

I need the high

You keep making it harder to stay but I still can't run away

You keep making it harder to stay

I still can't run away

I tasted Heaven, now I can't live without it

I can't forget you and your love is the loudest

Gimme What I Want

Careful, you might hurt yourself

Pleasure leads to pain. To me, they're both the same

Pleasure leads to pain

You might be insane but maybe we're the same

You came here cause you know what I need and no one likes to be alone

Tonight you came here cause you know what I need  

I don't need a future,

I don't need your past

I just need a lover

I don't need a future, I don't need your past, I just need a lover

You don't have to ask.

So give me what I want, or I'll give it to myself

I can tell that you're new to this

Give it to me, babe

Give it to me and nobody else, babe

Night Crawling

Sometimes I'm good for nothin'

Sometimes I need your lovin'

Cravin' attention under the disco ball

Gotta listen when the Devil's callin'

When it's yellin' out my name, I chase it

Sometimes my thoughts are violent

Sometimes I sit in silence  

I'm running for my life

Midnight Sky

It's been a long night and the mirror's telling me to go home  

it's been a long time since I felt this good on my own

it's been a long time since I felt this good

Lotta years went by with my hands tied up in your ropes

I was born to run, I don't belong to anyone

I don't need to be loved by you

See my lips on her mouth, everybody's talkin' now  

Everybody's talkin' now

It ain't so bad if I wanna make a couple mistakes

You should know right now that I never stay put in one place

I don't hide blurry eyes like you

High

Sometimes I get a little too hurt

Got my mind goin' places it ain't wanna go

Sometimes I get a little too low

And you're like a neon light shinin' through a door that I can't keep closed

In my head, I did my very best saying goodbye  

I don't miss you but I think of you and don't know why  but I still feel high

I still feel high

Sometimes I stay up all night cause you don't ever talk to me in my dreams

I think about eventually you holdin' me and dancin' to the record like a movie scene

Hate Me

You can say it's my fault if it still hurts at all

You can say it’s my fault

I thought one of these days you might call

Drownin' in my thoughts  staring at the clock

I know I’m not on your mind

I wonder what would happen if I die  

I hope all of my friends get drunk and high

Would it be too hard to say goodbye?

I hope that it's enough to make you cry

Maybe that day you won't hate me

You can say that I've changed  

Just say it to my face

One drink, and I’m back to that place

The memories won't fade  

Bad Karma

You may think I'm ghostin', but the truth is I'm a liar

I sell you what I tell you, but you ain't a fucking buyer

They say it's bad karma when you live a double life

I've always picked a giver 'cause I've always been the taker

I'd rather just do it, then I'll think about it later

It's bad karma being such a heart breaker

I don't play the nicest but it ain't a fucking crime

I never learn my lesson so I always do it twice

I don't give a fuck

I don't believe in luck

I do what I wanna do

Never Be Me

I know I do this every time

I stop myself before the crime

I don't wanna push you way too much

I don't wanna lean that way too far

I don't wanna ever learn the hard way

if you're looking for stable, that'll be never be me

If you're looking for faithful, that'll never be me

If you're looking for someone to be all that you need that'll never be me

Hard as I try that'll never be me

I play with fire

Dry your tears now, don't you cry

I know I do this every time

I'm by your side, at least for a while

Can't get too close to the sun

Baby, you're the only one

I'd never lie to you

You give me a reason to run from the fire

Golden G String

Yes, I've worn the golden g-string

I put my hand into hellfire

I did it all to make you love me and to feel alive

I was thinkin' about my life and the questions made more questions  

You dare to call me crazy, have you looked around this place?

The old boys hold all the cards and they ain't playin' gin

I should walk away but I think I'll stay  

There are layers to this body.... they told me I should cover it, so I went the other way

There are layers to this body, primal sex and primal shame

I was tryin' to own my power

I'm tryin' to work it out

At least it gives the paper somethin' they can write about  

If you can't make ends meet, honey, it must be your fault  

We all focus on the winners and get blinded by their shine

Maybe caring for each other's just too 1969

I have too much lose so I think I'll stay. I can't walk away

I have too much lose

I think I'll stay

I can't walk away  

[marvelhero-fics]

Silent Britain

Series - Chapter One

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You and Tom are working as love interests in a new Scorsese film, essentially leading to be love interests in real life

A/N: This is technically chapter one! Thanks for all the support on the prologue I'm glad heaps of you enjoyed it! I also wasn’t really planning on doing a taglist for this fic but a lot of people requested to be on it so I ended up making one (it’s below the cut at the bottom). If you’d like to be on it just send me a message or leave a comment on pretty much any Silent Britain post. Thanks for the support again!!!!!!

This chapters a bit of a slow-burn but next chapter get much more interesting. Please go read the prologue first, this chapter will make much more sense if you do. It’s linked down below in the masterlist. 

The italics in this story are the readers thoughts!

Word Count: 3,800

Silent Britain Masterlist || Full Masterlist 

And there goes the explosion. “I need to pull over. I’m about to have a stroke.”

The next two weeks truly flew by. You were partly happy, because you couldn’t wait to fly out to California and meet everyone, but it did also heighten your nerves. You did as much research as you could about Britain in the 70’s, even taking time to go see your grandparents who were conveniently alive at the time. But, by their description of the decade you could tell they must’ve been on some crazy drug back then, I guess that’s a pretty big tell of what the 70’s were like anyway.

“I promise you’re gonna do such an amazing job, I’m always just a phone call or text away if you need me, (Y/N/N).” Evie sung, pulling you into the tightest embrace.

“I know, Eve. I’m gonna miss you so much.” You pouted. To make life a little easier for yourself, you’d decided to fly out to California and stay there until production started, which was set to be in about a month. That way you didn’t have to fly there, then home, then there again, considering it was a twelve hour flight, and God, you hated flying.

“You are going to be incredible, my darling girl.” Your mum stated, giving you a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She knew she wouldn’t be able to see you for a while so she’d come over to send you off.

“Thanks mum. I love you heaps and I’ll call you when I get there.” You were incredibly close with your mum. She had always been such a huge support system for you and your career, you always credited any success you had to her.

And with that, you were in the car being driven to the airport.

~

The twelve hour flight had taken your physical and mental battery down to about 0. Even up in First Class all you did was read your script over and over, and panic. As well as getting some time to watch The Departed, one of Scorsese’s incredibly well done films. Unfortunately, instead of enjoying it, you essentially studied it. Fortunately, you got to use your ‘Taxi Driver’ notebook. Is this slightly obsessive? You studied how DiCaprio and Nicholson delivered their lines, and how often the sets changed, and all the camera angles. God, you’re purposely trying to freak yourself out now.

Touching down in California was nice. The first thing you really noticed was the heat. It was July, so it was the middle of summer, and in California it got hot. Of course, you weren’t complaining, this meant nice air conditioning on set, as well as good weather to work with in production. Yea, that would be the only thing I think about.

An older looking gentleman stood at the arrival gate with a sign that read (Y/L/N) in bulk letters. You quickly went over to greet him. Lazily, you strolled out to the large SUV, trying to get as much time on your feet as possible after the long flight. You’d seen photos, and heard horror stories of actors being mobbed at airports, with fans even waiting at the arrival gates all day to catch a glimpse of their favourite celebrity. That never happened to you, but you tried to be much more thankful than jealous. Large crowds weren’t really your forte.

“How was your flight, Miss (Y/L/N)?” Your driver politely asked, turning on the engine of the car.

“It wasn’t too bad. It just felt super long,” you chuckled, sluggishly.

“Well, at least you’re back on solid ground now.” He smiled through the rear-vision mirror.

“Yea, very happy to be. Out of curiosity, are you picking up any other members of the cast?” You peered up, knowing this man likely worked for the studio.

“Indeed, I am. I picked up Jude Law yesterday morning, and Daniel Craig and Rachel Weisz last night.” He responded,

“Huh, and what’re they like?”

“Well, Mr Law was very friendly, we ended up chatting most of the way to the hotel. And Mr Craig and Mrs Weisz seemed lovely, but I didn’t talk with them very much. They were a little more closed off.” He continued, you simply nodding to his words, “And I believe I’m picking up a Mr Holland much later tonight.”

“Oh, right. Busy day for you then.”

“Well, it’s just the usual.” And with that, you stopped talking. Your mind wandered off the small talk. God almighty, it’s gonna be a fucking long night tonight. You thought, simply just processing all the things you knew you had to organise before tomorrow. The ride to the hotel didn’t seem like a very long one, or maybe it was? Maybe you’d zoned out to an entire different reality and didn’t notice time passing, either way you made it to the Four Seasons and checked in with no trouble at all.

It was pretty much exactly what you’d expect from the Four Seasons. A small, spacious living area, with a large, grey L-shaped couch, and a big-screen TV. A small kitchen to the left, that you’re sure wouldn’t be able to make more than a bowl of pasta. A bedroom off in a separate room, with a bed that was far too big for one person. And an Asylum-white bathroom with a bathtub that was going to make your stay here much better. Looks like this is home for the next month. Being apart of the Hollywood scene, you got kind of used to hotel rooms becoming a second home. The amount of time you spent essentially having to tour around California for filming, staying in different hotels with similar-looking hotel rooms just became second nature.

First point of action; now that you’d touched down and gotten comfortable, was to call your mother. She’d slowly figured out how to worry less about you, now that you were older and had figured your life out a bit more, but she was still always going to be a mother.

The phone only rang twice before she picked up. “Hey, mum.” You greeted,

“Hi, love! I’m glad you’re safe and well, how was your flight?”

“Long. But the hotel’s really nice.” You responded, letting your body fall back onto the king-sized bed.

“Did you watch any movies?”

“Yea, I watched The Departed.”

“Oh, that’s a bit of a grim film, love.” Your mum stated, being as motherly as ever.

You chuckled a bit, “wait until you see the film I’m about to be in.”

“Did you get any sleep on the plane? And how was the food?”

“Yea, the food was really nice, it was like a salmon and couscous thing. And no, I didn’t really get any sleep, but I didn’t really try too, I kinda had a lot of other things to do.” You spoke.

“Well, you need to make sure you get some sleep tonight. And you let me know if you need anything at all!” Your mother conveyed

“Thanks, mum. And I promise everything is going fine, I’m fine. And I’ll let you know how the cast meet up and rehearsals go.” You returned. And with her best wishes, your mother hung up. That left you lying there, your body slightly sunken into the soft mattress of the Four Seasons bed. Almost every celebrity you’d met had told you to not search your own name on the internet. They always told you you’d find some very unfavourable things, but if you didn’t go looking for it you wouldn’t find it. So with that excellent mentality, you searched your name.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N). It took only seconds to type and click enter. The first article talked about the upcoming film. I guess the news already broke. It was probably leaked purposely for publicity, you didn’t care either way.

Upcoming Scorsese Film to have Star-Filled Line Up, Signing Hopkins, Hardy, Bale, and (Y/L/N). Being called a star was quite nice. It always shocked you just a little bit, knowing that people knew your name. Knowing that you’d actually become news. This is what you’d wanted for a long time though, to be a movie-star. You read further into the article.

‘Scorsese’s latest film to centre around 1970’s British Mob family, the Bakers. No news on the initial release date, however official members of the cast include Tom Hardy, Anthony Hopkins, Christian Bale, and (Y/N) (Y/L/N).’ The article showed photos of the four of you, including a photo of Scorsese. At least they picked a nice picture.

‘If this mobster film is anything like we’ve seen in the past from Scorsese, we can expect a stunning and vivid look at the ugliness and volatile nature of true Gangster films. Potentially even a few Academy Awards if Scorsese continues his war-path of masterly crafted cinema.’ You even chuckled at that last line, the Academy Awards. You’d attended the Emmys last year and that was the highlight of your life. If you were at the Oscars you’d probably spontaneously combust. You flicked your phone off and threw it to the other side of the bed, lying patiently in the quickly setting Californian sun. Am I supposed to feel this overwhelmed? You simply sat with your thoughts for a few moments, knowing that nothing was going to be the same after this film. Martin Scorsese essentially started Robert De Niro’s career in Taxi Driver, same with Jodie Foster. Not to mention Al Pacino’s career starting in a 70’s gangster film too. Each of these actors now being multi-award winning, millionaires. I don’t think I could function being that famous.

Once you’d finished basking in the glory and horror of it all, you sorted out your clothes from all of your luggage, and headed to bed. It was probably still too early to be in bed, but you’d had no sleep on the flight and just wanted to rest, especially for the chaos of tomorrow.

~

That all-too-familiar noise of your phone alarm ripped you back into consciousness. Surprisingly, you’d slept like the dead last night. You thought the panic and nerves would’ve kept you up, or disrupted your sleep, but thankfully it was actually very peaceful. Wonder how long that’s gonna last. Everything you did during the morning was mechanical. Having a shower, getting dressed, doing your hair and make-up. It was all just simply going through the motions while your mind ticked away. You tried to remember every part of the script, while also going over today’s encounters. Am I supposed to act like a fan of these actors? Or do I act super cool? Like I don’t care?

Your gaze rested upon your figure in the mirror. Wearing a casual pair of jeans, a regular t-shirt, with your favourite Nikes. Along with bits and pieces of jewellery that fitted. Do I look too plain? Like one of the million assistants on set? Was everyone else going to be dressed up? What sort of cast meet up is this? It was 9:00 am, so regardless of your racing thoughts, you didn’t have any time to change. You grabbed your hand-bag, script, and note-book and went downstairs to get into the car the studio had sent, and with that you were on the long drive to set. Neither you or the driver talked to each other, you partly blamed yourself for not initiating conversation. Your mum would’ve been upset with you. ‘No matter how famous you get, my darling, you’re not allowed to look down on others. You can never think of yourself as better than others. You’ll always be a regular person, who makes mistakes, and does great things. Always, always be kind.’ She’d always lecture you. God, you’d kill to have your family here with you.

The SUV pulled up to the lot, getting access to the private area where the meet-up was happening. You made sure to thank the driver before you met up with a shorter, plumper lady, who obviously seemed like she was expecting you by her greeting.

“Welcome to the studio, (Y/N). My name’s Angela, I’m the production manager for Silent Britain.” She spoke, the Californian accent very prominent in her voice.

“Nice to meet you.” You responded,

“It’s nice to meet you too, if you could just follow me, I'll take you to the room where everyone’s meeting.” She said with a smile.

“Sounds good.” Angela walked you to the huge garage-type room. Well, it wasn’t actually a room, it was just an empty stage on the lot. The 12 ft tall garage-like door was open to let natural light illuminate it. It was full of people, most of whom you’d never seen in your life. Everyone from the special effects men, to the boom mic operators, to the assistant director were packed in. Luckily it was a huge area. Angela told you to follow her further, taking you to a separated room down the other end of the stage. This was the room full of actors. God, we’re pretentious. Needing a whole other room to ourselves. Not only did it have the main actors, it had quite a few background actors. Which, admittedly, you were slightly thankful for. If it was just the main actors you’d be the least famous person in the room, and that’s never the best feeling.

Angela let you know that the meeting would be happening very soon. By meeting, she essentially meant the presentation about the film, and how production was going to work and such. And with that flow of information, she left. Leaving you to fend for yourself in a room full of actors.

Who the fuck am I supposed to talk too? Why does everyone seem to know someone already? “Hiya!” A loud, high pitched noise rang behind you. You turned on your heel to see a slightly shorter girl with long, wavy brunette hair.

“Hi?” You returned, not sure if she was mistaking you for someone she knew.

“I’m Allison.” She introduced, extending her hand out.

“Oh, right. I’m (Y/N).” You smiled back, shaking her hand.

“Yea, I’ve actually seen you in quite a few films before. It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Wow, I’m really not used to actually being recognised.” You somewhat laughed, feeling some of the tension leave your shoulders.

“You’re playing the lead role in this film though, aren’t you?” She queried.

“Yea, Elizabeth Baker. I’m still not entirely sure how I landed that. Do you mind if I ask who you’re playing?” You responded.

“Of course! I’m playing Donna, which is one of Lizzie’s school friends.” She explained. It was only a very minor role, with maybe one line of dialogue. But she seemed happy enough to be here.

“Oh, well, thanks for introducing yourself. Now I’ll finally know someone on set.” You joked.

“Do you not know the other actors already?”

“Honestly, no. I haven’t really had the chance to meet anyone yet.”

“You should go over and introduce yourself. You’re the lead role! And maybe you could introduce me to some of them.” She laughed, trying to slightly play off the words she just said. Ah, lovely. Someone trying to use me to their advantage.

“Hm.” You simply smiled. “I think I’ll just grab a coffee first, then maybe I’ll socialise.” You added, taking almost no time to venture away from her.

You moved towards the small tables set up with coffee, tea, water and small snacks. You couldn’t help but notice the divide in the room. There was the big-time actors to one side of the room, and the lesser-known, mainly extras to the other side. You also couldn’t help but notice that you stood on the extras side of the room. In the moment you didn’t particularly care. You spent time fiddling away with the sugar packets, not even making a coffee as you thought about your next move. You needed to go introduce yourself, to at least one person you were going to be acting beside. But who were you supposed to choose? I bet Daniel Craig wasn’t this nervous introducing himself. Fuck, I wouldn’t be if I was James Bond.

Without thinking past James Bond, you walked over to the ‘A-list’ actor area. Fuck it, I’m the greatest. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet me. You repeated, entirely trying to sike yourself up. Daniel Craig, Michael Fassbender, Christian Bale, and Rachel Weisz stood in a small group, chatting amongst themselves. Oh, this is definitely the most threatening group. You thought, diving straight in.

“Hi there,” You interrupted, “I just wanted to introduce myself, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You spoke, confidently. Good thing I’m such a good actor.

“Nice to meet you,” Michael responded, his Irish accent thick as he spoke. Daniel, Rachel, and Christian all introduced themselves after, breaking into a conversation about Martin Scorsese.

“I actually haven’t had the chance to meet him. Not properly at least.” You stated, referring back to your audition were you simply spoke in front of him, without him engaging in much conversation.

“He’s great. He’s incredibly intelligent at what he does, but he is really fast paced. He seems to constantly be thinking about the next thing to do.” Daniel began speaking, “But try not to be nervous, he’s pretty good at sensing nerves.” He smirked. Awesome.

“As if the cast wasn’t intimidating enough.” You joked, earning a chuckle from the group. The five of you continued to discuss past acting experiences, and working together on other films and such, with yourself not having much to bring to the conversation. Simply being happy enough to stand with these four god-like actors.

Angela seemingly appeared out of nowhere in front of the crowd of actors, earning a hush amongst the group. She began by thanking everyone for being here, and introducing herself once again as the production manager. She explained the outline of what was going to happen, and when production was due to start, most information of which you’d received in emails earlier. All and all, it was a very quick meeting. I guess it was more about getting to meet everyone. Angela finished her statement and the crowd sparked conversation again, most of the background actors dispersing off. As you were about to say your goodbyes, a smaller, younger gentleman walked up to where you and your newly formed actor friends stood. He handed each of you a small envelope.

“These are from Martin, inviting you to dinner with him tonight. All the information is on the letters. Please RSVP as soon as possible.” He stated, scuttling off to the next group.

“The theatrics,” Christain stated, waving the envelope, “that’s very Scorsese.” He finished.

“Who was that kid?” You asked Michael,

“Would’ve been Martins PA, probably.” He replied, opening his letter. You shrugged and opened yours. The beautiful calligraphy hit you first, each letter individually addressed to each actor. By the looks of it, the main cast of about 12 of you were invited, along with the higher up crew members. It was being held at his property in Hollywood. Well, this should be fun.

“I guess we’ll see you all there.” Daniel stated, earning a cheer of goodbyes from the rest of you as him and Rachel walked off.

“I better head off too,” You smiled, leaving Michael and Christain behind you as you strolled towards the door, continuing to read over your letter. The handwritten note occupied so much of your thought, that you’d forgotten to look where you were walking. All of a sudden, you were stumbling straight into someone's torso. The first sense to hit you was the scent, the only way you could think to describe it was the smell of the wealthy. It was an incredible cologne that you could only imagine A-listers would wear.

“Sorry, love.” His voice sung, the thick British accent very apparent. His larger hands came up to grab your shoulders, steadying your body. His grip was firm against you arms. You could feel the heat of his hands through the thin material of your shirt. You couldn’t help but notice the veins slightly bulging from his tanned forearms. You face moved up so your gaze aligned with his. Brunette curls, light brown eyes, glowing smile, a jawline that looked like it was carved from stone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was walking.” You awkwardly laughed as Toms taller frame stood right in front of you. Do not freak out.

“Don’t worry about it.” He responded, “I was meaning to come meet you earlier, but I got a little caught up. I’m Tom, by the way.” He added, his grin not leaving his face. Yea, I fucking know.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N).” You replied, politely.

“Yea, I’m actually a bit of a fan. I’ve seen some of your work in the past, I’m really glad you got this role.” He added.

“Oh, wow. I thought we we’re going to play it cool, but I’m a huge fan of yours too. I love all the Marvel stuff.” You broke out of your ‘big-time actor’ persona. He chuckled at your comment.

“I see you got an invite, too.” He pointed down at your letter, holding his in his hand too.

“Oh yea. Have you ever done this sort of thing before? Like this whole dinner with the cast thing?”

“Yea, a few times actually. Robert Downey Jr loved doing this stuff for the Marvel cast.” He returned, “with the directors, and the crew and everyone.”

“Right, well I’ve never done all this before. It’s pretty crazy.”

“Yea, I know. The cast of this movie is fucking insane. I’ve never seen so many stars in one room, honestly.” Tom acknowledged. “You seem like you’re holding it all together pretty well.”

“No, I’m just a really good actor, internally I’m absolutely freaking out.” You stated in a joking manner, earning a laugh from Tom. I mean, it’s true.

“That’s great practice for the film them.” He replied, his eyes looking deeper into yours. You could almost feel your knees turning to jelly.

“I’m so sorry to leave you stranded like this, but I really need to get back to my hotel and sort my shit out for this dinner tonight.” You spoke, truthfully.

“Oh, yea. I should probably go do the same. I guess I’ll see you there.”

“Yes, you will. It was really nice to meet you, Tom.” You expressed, your hand moving to rest against his bicep as you cocked your head with a smile. He returned the good-bye and you waltzed out of the stage. Your heart was pumping in your throat and you had to bite down on your lip to suppress your awfully huge grin. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.

Taglist!

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A line through your name means it wouldn't let me tag you!

[cooltrainererika]

Alt-Baltic Pokemon teams! (+Updated concept art)

I finally finished this gsoxlaunsisd-

Another picture for @aphbalticweek2020 ! ...Over a month late. Hopefully it will still catch some attention. @_@. I want to submit a fic and was planning to draw the Hetalia Emblem versions of them too, but Augh school just began again and my PC broke and ffffff... I’m posting this from my phone and the Tumblr app sucks.

So here’s my versions of the Baltic trio as Pokémon trainers! It was probably a mistake doing all the coloring in Photoshop...

I had this idea for a while. I only had an idea for a full team for Liet, but I found that I was actually able to come up with full teams. I had this idea since looking at a Japanese video and other Japanese artists who did this concept... And in typical Japanese Hetalia fashion, focused mostly on character quirks and, if there was any reference to the actual nation’s culture, surface level things. So I started forming ideas like this sort of as a response to those. Though there’s someone on Amino who similarly goes through the effort! I’m sure you’ll find them if you search for Hetalia Pokémon teams.

Also, many aren’t to scale, but so many Pokémon are too huge to fit into a team shot at their real in-game size. Also damn you GameFreak for not having releases in smaller languages. I couldn’t make nicknames derived from their local names because there aren’t any, and certain diacritics have to be omitted.

Lithuania

I think I’m getting better at drawing Alt-Liet! But since this is in the Pokémon universe, I also tried drawing him with his canonical hair. I feel his favorite types would be grass, ghost, and bug.

Uzuhuol

Trevenant♂

Type: Ghost/Grass

Ability: Natural Cure

Possible ace Pokémon. From the old Pagan Lithuanian belief that spirits from dead ancestors resided in trees, as well as Lithuania’s connection to forests. One of Tolys’ oldest and most reliable companions. Name is a poetic word for “Oak”, the tree of the most important god in Lithuanian mythology. I feel Trevenant captures how I write Alt-Liet pretty well, and especially what separates him from canon Liet. Though I did debate what his signature Pokémon would be quite a bit.

Moveset:

Forest’s Curse

Phantom Force

Destiny Bond or Hidden Power (Electric)

Wood Hammer

Austeja

Vespiquen♀

Type: Bug/Flying

Ability: Pressure

Based on Lithuania’s long tradition of beekeeping. There is evidence that long ago, in ancient Lithuanian culture, bees were among the most respected of creatures, being referred to as if they were humans. There is probably no greater evidence of this than what she is named after, the goddess of bees. More info can be found here: https://balticmythology.tumblr.com/post/124316160169/baltic-mythology-austėja-austėja-ancient Lithuania also has a longstanding meadmaking tradition, and you can even apparently buy mead in supermarkets there. In fact, in my old concept art, you can see him holding some. Also has been with Tolys since forever, possibly being his first. While I forgot to convey this, is often next to Uzuhuol, being almost inseparable.

Moveset:

Attack Order

Defend Order

Aromatherapy

Dual Wingbeat

Egle

Servine♀

Type: Grass

Ability: Overgrow

Also one of Tolys’ oldest companions. Despite their types being polar opposites, surprisingly close with Gabija. Named after the queen of serpents in Lithuanian folklore (with no ė because the Pokémon naming system doesn’t allow Lithuanian letters), also the word for “spruce”, and readers of my previous stuff involving Baltic myth know that snakes had very important places in Baltic cultures as the animals of the sun goddess. Though Eglė was a water serpent. Because of the queen thing I did consider making her a Serperior, but there were too many big Pokémon in the picture.

Moveset:

Solar Beam

Magical Leaf

Safeguard or Sunny Day

Leaf Blade

Gabija

Rapidash♀

Type: Fire

Ability: Flash Fire

Named after the Lithuanian goddess of the hearth. Though her actual representative animals are cats and roosters, so thinking about it maybe I could have given him a Combusken or Litten, but I decided on Rapidash because I headcanon Alt-Liet has a Žemaitukas pony, plus the imagery of a white horse corresponds to the coat of arms.

Moveset:

Flame Charge

Stomp

Flame Blast

Smart Strike

Cepelinas

Drifblim ♂

Type: Ghost/Flying

Ability: Unburden

Vilnius is one of the few European capital cities where hot air balloons are allowed to fly, with them also apparently being a relatively common sight in other Lithuanian cities like Kaunas, and there are more of them per person in Lithuania than any other country. Apparently, they symbolize freedom there too. His name is Lithuanian for “zeppelin”, which is kind of fitting considering that’s kind of what Drifblim is in the first place, but more importantly that’s also the name of the national food of Lithuania.

Moveset:

Shadow Ball

Phantom Force

Tailwind

Payback

Kvapas

Spritzee♂

Type: Fairy

Ability: Healer

I couldn’t come up with a good name, so uncreative name, blah. Lithuania is the only country with an official perfume scent. Plus, fairy types fit him pretty well too. I guess Alt-Liet wouldn’t be the type to have such “feminine” looking Pokémon, but maybe it isn’t that implausible? Idk, I needed to give him a final Pokémon.

Moveset:

Fairy Wind

Sweet Scent

Charm

Echoed Voice

Augh, make a Stork Pokémon already, GameFreak... It would be perfect for the core Commonwealth trio, it would be a cute symbol of the relationship between Liet and Belarus, and a reminder of him and Poland’s connection, since they would have one too.

Latvia

Unfortunately I drew him in this weird position that didn’t let me put in a lot of bigger Pokémon, so he got a bunch of smaller Pokémon. Pretend some of them are just about to evolve or something. But happy I got to draw him in a hockey shirt like I wanted to last time but forgot. Also he seemed to end up with noodly Pokémon a lot, but that’s half coincidence and half because of the position I drew him in, not intending to draw a full team, and I was thinking I’d just draw Snivy and Ledian.

Oh, and I’ll be omitting moveset s from here due to time. Check the reblogs if you’re interested, I might add some.

Misinausis

Snivy♂

Type: Grass

Was considering making Serperior his signature Pokémon due to him owning a pet grass snake in Alt-talia, but for some reason I kept it a Snivy. I guess because I like the idea of him carrying it in his hood. I might draw him with Serperior if I have the chance to though. But his name is just the old name for “grass snake” (“Brass-ears”), I still can’t come up with a creative name for the poor thing, blah. Much like his Alt-talia counterpart, he usually stays out of his Pokéball and rides around on his head or in his hood if he’s wearing one.

Marite

Ledian♀

Type: Bug/Flying

The national animal of Latvia is the two-spotted ladybug. And that’s adorable. Apparently they have a very beloved part in Latvian pop culture. I was considering using the new Galar ladybug Pokémon, but I didn’t really think that the mad scientist/UFO motif fit. Though Blipbug’s nerdy look might have fit considering Latvia’s very good education rate, as to why one is in reserve.

Carnikava

Elektross♂

Type: Electric

Yeah, this choice might be surprising, but I wanted to include some fish Pokémon; and apparently lampreys are pretty abundant in Latvia, and are also eaten very often, with lamprey even being common in supermarkets (though that does make this kind of morbid lol).

Janis

Phantump♂

Type: Ghost/Grass

Latvia has similar mythology to Lithuania, and I did want to make him a Trevenant, but again, the floaty way I drew Latvia (though I guess he does look like he could be sitting too?). I thought that related characters having one Pokémon from the same evolutionary line was a cool idea. Much like Lithuania, the Ghost/Grass typing fits him very well.

Daugava

Whiscash♀

Type: Water/Ground

I wanted to include some kind of marshy Pokémon due to the Baltic region being abundant in bogs and other wetlands, and I wanted a real Water Pokémon. I found that apparently, the biggest catfish ever fished on record was fished in Latvia, and there is a particular part of the Daugava river in Latvia known for its abundance of catfish, and much like lamprey, catfish are a common food in Latvia.

Priede

Snover♀

Type: Grass/Ice

Forests cover as much as 42% of the country, with timber being one of the most important natural resources in Latvia, if not the most; so I wanted to include a significantly-sized tree Pokémon. I chose Snover, though if I’d had more space and it didn’t clash with the rest I’d make it an Abomasnow. Spruce trees are extremely abundant in Latvia, and big stretches can even be seen along his beautiful coastlines (wanted to included a reference to those too, but Palosand seems too artificial). Snover also grow berries, apparently, symbolizing more of Latvia’s connection to nature. Plus, Riga boasts the oldest Christmas tree in a city square (though Tallinn disputes that, as I wrote in one of my fics, Estonia’s First Christmas). Will be able to Mega Evolve upon becoming an Abomasnow.

Also considered Flapple, as according to one source apples have a significant place in Latvian culture, and according to another, apple trees as a whole do. ...Unfortunately, those were the only pages I could find with this info, so I had no way of verifying it.

Estonia

His Pokémon lineup came easily once I put my mind to it. ...Unfortunately, for some reason, I’m completely blank on names. So deciding to cut my losses, they’re unnamed, sorry. ^^; While Hetalia tends to put more focus on the techy side of Estonia, I based most of these on the abundant wildlife of Estonia’s vast forests, as he actually has the most forest cover out of the Baltics; as in, literally half his land area is forests, having some of the best forest protection policies in the EU. So he’d have caught most of these just taking a walk through his many, many forests and national parks. I’d presume his part of the world and Latvia’s would be Safari Zone central.

Slowking

Type: Water/Psychic

I knew instantly that Estonia would get Slowking. It was the one Pokémon I was planning to draw for him, with maybe the other being Porygon-2. It fits him perfectly; seemingly slow, but highly intelligent. Also, Slowpoke fish for food, and it’s a Water Type; the sea has a major presence in Estonia, from its many islands to coastline, and fish of course are part of the national diet, much like in Latvia. I was considering using the Galar version because Europe, but not only is its design not fully revealed yet, I realized that it might not even have the Water typing, so even if it’s design was revealed I’d probably stick with the original.

Luxray

Type: Electric

I thought that Slowking would be Estonia’s signature Pokémon, but looking more into it, Luxray is a strong, strong contender, if not even more of a perfect fit. In fact, it fits perfectly in like three ways. Estonia is said to have the highest density of Lynx in Europe. But on top of that, Luxray looks an awful lot like a lion, and I was pretty sure it was one when I was a kid.... Estonia’s coat of arms has three, blue, heraldic lions emblazoned very prominently on it... on a gold background to boot. And on top of that, Estonia has a law where all people have to wear a reflective accessory when out at night (I drew him with one when I last drew him, if you recall), and I’m pretty sure that’s what the yellow patches on Luxray act as... Seriously, this Pokémon was made for him.

Porygon-2

Type: Normal

We all know about Estonia and Skype and it’s internet infrastructure. In fact, I almost named it “Skype” (you’ll see an artifact of that here). A representative of the technical side of him, since I put more weight on his natural side here. I made it Porygon-2 instead of Z because those poor things are apparently as glitchy as Bethesda games. I kind of want this line to get a new evolution, the internet and CGI has obviously come a long way since then. But the Porygon line was the only option I had for “internet/modern tech Pokémon”, so I had to go with it.

Emolga

Type: Electric/Flying

Estonia has some of the few pockets of Siberian Flying Squirrel population in the EU, having gone extinct in Latvia, though they tend to be more widespread in Finland; this may be the Pokémon he shares with him. Also the two electric types could be the bridge between nature and tech that he has.

Swellow

Type: Flying/Normal

I almost chose Taillow, because I realized that Estonia had a way higher proportion of fully evolved Pokémon, especially compared to Latvia, who he shouldn’t actually have such a big gap with. But since a friend of mine said that Swellow looked better in the group shot, Swellow it was. Barn Swallows are the national bird of Estonia, and were even apparently one of the national symbols used in the Singing Revolution by Estonians alongside the cornflower. According to one of my sources, in Estonian folklore, anyone who kills a swallow will go blind.

Leafeon

Type: Grass

Because of the forest cover thing, I wanted a grass type. A tree Pokémon preferably... But I ran out of space. Also I thought that there weren’t any good candidates, as I used the Phantump line twice and most tree Pokémon are either too heavily associated with Japanese culture or tropical, but I could have given him a Snover or Abamosnow like I did with Latvia, especially since Latvia got the coniferous tree despite Estonia being further north, and the Christmas tree debate thing. Oops. Still, I guess it slipped my mind since Latvia’s Snover was a pretty late addition. Maybe some other time. In anyway, I chose Leafeon, since you need to go deep into a forest to evolve it. It really has that magical forest creature vibe to it.

In reserve: Probably a Snover or Abamosnow, for reasons I already mentioned.

Hopefully, I’ll actually be able to get a fic out soon!

Bonus: Updated my concept art again!

[bush-viper-cutie]

“Leaving Malfoy Manor” || YEAR 3 – Ch.5 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter                          Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 7/24/2020

Word count: 3,153

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

The next morning Heather was woken up by Feeno again and the smell of fresh bread. He held up her cleaned Quidditch robes and pointed to the breakfast on the nightstand. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, dreading seeing Draco again. The rest of her day yesterday was spent studying on the bed, free to spread out all her books without the fear that one of the Dursleys would barge in at any second.

“Tell him I’ll be right there,” she groaned and sat up, rubbing the dried drool from her chin.

“Feeno will take you,” he dropped her uniform and popped out of sight.

She changed slowly, purposely trying to keep Draco waiting, and exited the room. She pretended like she couldn’t see Feeno and walked ahead of him as best she could. He tugged on her robes but she marched on – lightly whacking him with the end of her broom – the way he showed her yesterday until she reached the outside.

Draco flew down and threw the Quaffle at her, “We’ll do my drills and then yours.”

Heather threw the Quaffle back, “No, we didn’t even get to my drills yesterday. We’ll start with mine.”

He threw his head back and groaned, “Fine. What are they?”

She listed off what he was supposed to do and explaining how Adrian and Marcus partnered with her for throws and dives. Normally Marcus just had her do dodging and distracting maneuvers as defense, but if she was going to stay on the team this year, she felt she had to do more.

“Make sure you’re really aggressive, ok? I can take it. During tryouts we might be up against… larger… opponents and we should be read.”

Draco nodded, “So, what? Kick your broom and elbow you when I can?”

Heather bit her lip and nodded, “Y-yeah… That should be fine.”

She touched off the ground and practiced her catching as Draco and her sped around his yard, throwing the Quaffle back and forth. Next they started higher and dove while catching, followed by sharp turn throws, and finally back-to-forward throws and catches. Draco kept dropping the ball, but Feeno kept the ball in play as best he could.

“Ok, I’ll try to get the Quaffle over there, and you try to knock me off my broom.”

Draco flew away and readied himself for a full intersecting tackle. Heather gripped her broom tight and shot forward. Draco followed her lead and stuck his arm out, ready to knock her out of the air. Heather dropped the Quaffle down to her feet, caught it and held it tight, and pressed herself to the handle, ducking under his outstretched arm as he passed. The second she cleared him she tried grabbing the Quaffle again and dropped it. It appeared in the air in front of her thanks to Feeno, and she took it, slowing down to a stop. Draco flew back with a weird look on his face.

“What’s that called!” he took the Quaffle and threw it up, “Can you do it again?”

Heather shrugged, “I made it up… and I can try. Let’s do it again, exactly like that.”

The next three attempts ended in both brooms colliding and bruised skulls and ribs. They were on their fourth attempt and Heather managed to drop the Quaffle down to catch with her legs and ducked like last time. The second she cleared his hesitant arm, she twirled in the air and dropped the Quaffle when her feet were up, catching it in her arms and twirling right side up again.

She turned and smiled at Draco, “That was cool!”

He rolled his eyes but smiled, “Don’t grow your head like your brother, Potter. When will we ever need you to do that?”

She joined him in the center, “Well I want to make more points, so I need to learn how to keep the Quaffle on me.”

“You? You can’t even throw as far as Flint. Let alone Pucey.”

Heather’s smile dropped. He was right about that. Marcus and Adrian had real strength and used their full power to fling the Quaffle through the hoops.

“My turn, same as yesterday.”

The next few hours were spent on perfecting Draco’s reflexes and flying focus. He seemed more confident diving and was sure he came close to matching Harry’s natural talents as a Seeker. They headed inside again for a late lunch and took the same seats as before.

This time they were served pasta like the kind Uncle Vernon often brought home for Dudley after important meetings. She always imagined the restaurant he went to was very fancy because every leftover pasta brought home had a little green leaf at the top. She savored the creamy sauce and licked her lips, not wanting to waste a drop.

“Are we done for the day?” she looked over at Draco and saw him nod with a mouthful of pasta. “Will you show me your library then?” She wondered what sort of books they had, or if other wizards could even have a library as gran as Hogwarts’.

“It’s just a library. But fine. As long as you don’t touch anything I tell you not to,” he shrugged.

After the pasta was gone she followed Draco to the library, keeping her hands to herself, as he went through naming sections. Most of the books seemed pretty boring compared to the selections in the Hogwarts Library and she could only assume all of these books were there for Draco’s parents only.

He stopped at a section with a thin grey veil covering the bookcase, “Behind there is the Dark Arts books.”

Heather reached out to lift the veil but Draco stopped her.

“If I’M not allowed to look at them, I won’t allow YOU to. Father says when I’m older he’ll personally go through them with me.” He crossed his arms, looking smug, “He says I might be a natural with it since I get good grades in Defense Against the Dark Arts without even trying.”

Heather laughed, “Yeah we all do. It’s not like the last few teachers were any good,” she squinted, trying to read the names of the books through the veil.

“Well not just there, Potter!” he spat back. “I know loads of hexes too, just wait for this year. Your friends won’t know what hit them.”

“Why do you always have to threaten them? Why can’t you just stay away?” she knew the answer already.

“Your brother’s the one that started it and if he doesn’t back down then one day he’ll regret – ”

The door opened and a woman with blonde hair walked in, holding her arms crossed with a tight face devoid of any emotion except for the anger in her eyes. Heather watched her uncross her arms and hold her hands politely over her stomach. Her lips were thins as she studied the scene and looked over Heather.

“Draco, why don’t you and your friend go play outside? Away from the library,” she smiled and motioned for the doors.

Heather looked at Draco. He nodded and pushed Heather towards the door. If his mother wasn’t there, she would have elbowed him for pushing her but since she was Heather only scowled. They made their way back down and outside to sit on one of the stone steps.

“Why can’t we be in there?” Heather remembered that somewhere in the house the Malfoys kept several illegal dark arts things that Mr. Weasley keeps trying to find. Where was it he said they were hidden?

Draco looked at her intensely, trying to determine how he should respond. He frowned and leaned in, trying to look as menacing as possible without Crabbe and Goyle there to back him up, “Keep your mouth shut about it. It doesn’t leave this house or I’ll deal with you myself.” He glanced back in towards the house, “Let’s just say there’s books in there that wouldn’t even be allowed in the restricted section. I’m not allowed to talk about them.”

“Is that… legal?”

“Thinking of telling the Weasleys? Well don’t bother. That old fool knows all the books my Father has. Books aren’t considered artifacts if they’re for learning and don’t harm the readers just for reading. Wizard law.”

Heather looked back at the house, “Where do people get books like that? I’ve been to the Dark Arts section and I haven’t seen any too dangerous for school. They mainly just explain stuff… actually they don’t really have any spells in them…”

Draco flicked a flower head off the stem with his thumb, “You don’t. Not anymore. The Ministry regulates what’s published now. Only powerful wizard families have those types of books. Obviously why I have some,” he looked smug again. “They’re too scared to let wizards learn those spells.”

The sun was getting close to setting and the air outside turned chilly as it waved through the leaves above and trimmed grass below. It was awkward sitting next to Draco, especially being somewhere between despising him and getting along – though leaning more on despising. She supposed she was lucky he hasn’t said anything worth punching him for.

“I’m going to go study,” Draco stood up and brushed his trousers off.

Heather frowned, “What, for the rest of the day? Really?”

“I’m too tired to fly so what else can we do. Crabbe and Goyle aren’t able to hang out – ”

“Can I see your room?” She read in one of Aunt Petunia’s home décor magazines that someone’s house was a view into their soul, and if there was any soul she wanted to see, it was Draco’s. She imagined his room would be filled with portraits of himself and his family, along with shiny jewel encrusted statues, something that screamed ‘son of a rich wizard’.

His interest looked peaked, “Alright. Follow me.”

He led her to the entrance hall and up the main stairs and up the right ones leading to the hall of doors across the balcony from her room. She turned into the hall but noticed Draco opening the wood door to their immediate left towards the rest of the second floor.

She followed him through the door. She thought it would lead into the library like the one across the balcony, but was instead faced with a set of stairs leading to the third floor. The stairs didn’t creak and groan like the Dursleys’ and the railing was very smooth. Her palm glided up the wood effortlessly.

“Father’s study, parent’s room, and mine,” he pointed and turned the knob to the far door.

Heather let her mouth drop. It wasn’t the large bookcases, large bed, beautiful wallpaper, or vibrant green carpet that matched the sheer curtains hung over glass double doors that probably lead to a balcony that made her mouth hang open dumbly. It was all the posters of the Falmouth Falcons covering the walls with a few smaller posters of Puddlemere United. It was as bad as Ron’s room.

“So the Falmouth Falcons are your favorite team, then?” Heather looked at the giant banner of their motto.

Draco spotted her staring at the banner. “‘Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads.’ Flint says he keeps asking to make that our Slytherin Quidditch motto, but Professor Snape won’t let him.”

She walked over to a little pile of marbles jumping over each other on the ground, almost seeming to be in the middle of a game with each other. Draco’s owl hooted at her from the windowsill and she nodded at it. Opposite the bed was a desk and a pile of magazines with amazing brooms from prototypes to non-tournament legal hobby ones flying around the covers and spines. Draco fell onto his bed and picked up the magazine already open on his bed, continuing on whatever page he was on.

“How many of your rooms fit into mine?” he made a square with his fingers and moved it along the air, “I’m going to guess four.”

She crossed her arms, “Three. Actually.” She spotted a Quidditch book with a golden arm breaking a broom with its fist on the floor, “‘Quidditch Crunches, Crouches, and Curls’?”

“Oh. Yeah, not many exercises for Seekers in there.” He walked over and picked it up, flipping to the Chaser section, “That might interest you, and if you can manage it – though I doubt it, Potter – it could help give you a better chance during tryouts AND benefit the team.”

She looked through all the exercises starting with the easier ones and ending on a picture of a man holding the jaws of a giant alligator open, “I could do some of these after my drills, and the easy ones I can do anywhere.” She started to get excited, “I could get better at throwing the Quaffle! I could score points!”

She could imagine herself now, Adrian and Marcus actually passing the Quaffle to her with the intention of helping HER score. Beating the all Weasley team next summer with her incredible apple throwing strength. Being strong enough to hold back Harry from doing something stupid like lunging at Draco.

She walked over to Draco’s large mirror and held up her arm, “How long do muscles take to grow?”

He shrugged and flipped the magazine page, “There might be a potion that speeds it up, but maybe a week?”

She laughed, “It takes longer than a week… I’m pretty sure…” She flipped to the first exercise labeled ‘Barrel pushes’ and dropped to the floor, “It says advanced wizards will put a barrel of seahogs inside and if your back isn’t straight they’ll fall out and burn you… but maybe this book could work instead. Will you put it on me?”

Draco groaned, “No more favors or you’ll owe me. MORE.” He placed the book on her back and stepped away, watching as she tried pushing up with her arms.

“Step one…” She groaned and shut her eyes tight until she felt her arms extend all the way with elbows locked. “Step two…” Slowly she tried lowering herself until her nose touched the soft carpet. “One… of fifty… repeated thrice.”

After reaching twenty barrel pushes she gave up in time for Draco to be called down to eat dinner with his family. He invited her half-heartedly but she declined and accepted for Feeno to bring her up her dinner. There was no way she was going to sit down at a table with all the Malfoys… His mother hadn’t even greeted her earlier.

Draco led her back to her room and within minutes Feeno delivered a fresh plate of steak and roasted potatoes with baked sprouts on the side. She sat in bed eating away and flipping through the pages, writing everything down in detail for use after she left the Malfoy Manor.

She stayed the full week, practicing all the drills and doing as many exercises as she could manage. Once Draco tried to join in, but gave up quickly saying he had forgotten something, but she knew he hadn’t. By the last day she stood by her mirror, frowning at the lack of muscles she had grown. In the back of her head she had been hoping Draco was right about it only taking one week.

After Mr. Malfoy had left for work, Feeno floated her trunk down to the fireplace in the entrance hall where Draco was already dressed and waiting.

“Better not tell anyone you were here, got it?” he handed her a small green bag of powder with the letter ‘M’ in the middle.

She took it and stepped into the fireplace with her trunk, “I won’t. Pansy would get too annoying.” She poured the powder into her hand and threw it down and did her best to whisper the location, “Leaky Cauldron.”

Once again, she was thrust into a humid tornado of commotion until she stepped out in the dusty backroom of the leaky cauldron. She dusted off her hair and clothes – blew dust away from her toad – and pushed the door open labeled ‘To Counter’ and spotted Tom serving drinks to a very chipper old witch. As soon as she stepped into view Tom came around the counter and took her trunk.

“Ah, Miss Potter. I didn’t see you come in! Mrs. Wogsen was talking my ear off – but I won’t talk yours off.”

Heather gave him a small chuckle and looked at the stairs.

“Yes, your room. It’s across the hall from Harry Potter! – er – Your brother.”

“Thank you…” Heather followed him up the stairs and looked around her room. It was better than their room… but not by much. And definitely didn’t compare to the Malfoy’s guest bedroom.

“Shall I let Harry Potter know you’re here?” Tom turned to knock on Harry’s door excitedly but she stopped him quickly.

“Let him sleep longer, I know what time he wakes up,” she needed a shower before she saw him, not wanting to smell like burnt wood when she was supposed to have arrived by car.

She closed the door and dug out new clothes, placing them next to the small sink. She dropped down to the tile floor and did as many exercises as she could before ripping off her sweaty clothes and taking a warm bath in the cramped tub. She missed the nice smelling bubbles and large soft towels. The towels here smelled weird like the water and were as rough as the bedsheets.

No wonder Draco was so rude all the time. She’d only spent a week at the Manor and she was already complaining about everything. “Being rich makes everything stink,” she drained the tub and watched it gurgle and pop. She jumped onto the bed and groaned as a spring poked her side, “I’ll never live rich again.”

She made a checklist of all the homework that needed to be done before school started, along with all the materials that they needed. She checked off all her assignments and left the little squares empty for Harry. She checked off the ‘Monster Book of Monsters’ for the both of them and added ‘Refill money bags’ to the list.

She was ready and prepared to see Harry and marched over to his door, excited to start checking things off, and knocked three times, “Harry! Are you awake?” She heard a groan.

“No. Give me an hour!”

“An hour? How late did you sleep!”

“…Not late… not very late. It’s just early.”

It was twelve. She sighed and walked back to her room and slowly laid down. She was desperate to get the last week over with. She wanted to be back at Hogwarts. She wanted to get started on learning. And she wanted to hear crowds chant her name like they chanted Harry’s. She was determined to win the house cup back.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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[greyjoyofwinterfell]

time stops for noone

Read it on AO3

"It's alright if you never forgive me."

-

Enji Todoroki to Natsuo Todoroki

The grave had become broken and battered.

The once pristine marble slab had been damaged by storms and snow.

Fuyumi Todoroki felt as if the beaten gravestone was better. Touya always loved ruined things, never arranged and submissive.

But she preferred order. She desired for everything to be tidy and clean, to be empty of carnage and destruction.

And old behaviours kicked in as Fuyumi wiped the cracked leaves and slender twigs off her brother's grave. 

She wore a crimson skirt as dark as blood. It was newly made and a gift from work but Fuyumi sat on the dirt all the same.

A dried bundle of white geraniums was tied in a scarlet ribbon. She could smell the faint flowery fragrance on them but they were long dried. Fuyumi knew only Natsuo would bring flowers to their brother's resting place.

Two candles blazed with a slight flame and the flame's heat slowly melted away the delicate wax. With all the gusts and breezes, the flare should have been blown away. But, Enji Todoroki's quirk had always been strong and always persisting during all the hazardous times. 

Fuyumi never brought anything to Touya's grave. Only herself.

Their house's shrine was different, however. It was filled with memories both pleasureful and bitter. Fuyumi could close her eyes and imagine her twin brother. She could bring him food and feel as if he as satisfied by the notion. She was able to do so much at the shrine because Fuyumi felt that Touya was alive and conscious when she looked at his shrine.

The gravestone was only a simple place where Touya's ashes lay. 

Nothing more and nothing less.

Fuyumi did not harbour much ill will towards the grave, nevertheless. 

Touya would have liked it. The sun rose first there basking the marble in a soft glow. Woods surrounded the cemetery and the rural community allowed the stars to peek in from the deep, night sky.

Touya had never loved the stars that much. It was always Fuyumi and she had taught him to ways of the sky.

She could remember instructing him on the constellations with an exhausted smile. 

Touya wasn't all that quick to grasp astronomy but he tried for her sake.

He had always tried for their family's sake and never for himself.

Fuyumi thought it was the early sunlight blinding her eyes but instead she felt cool water running down her cheeks. 

Tears were a strange thing in the Todoroki household and they were always suppressed.

Fuyumi despised crying but she could not contain herself now.

Sniffles turned into full-fledged sobs as she bent herself over Touya's grave. 

Fuyumi rarely even visited Touya's grave and she spurned the idea of sobbing on it too. 

But today was the day that Touya had perished in an inferno of his making.

She was only able to watch as he screamed in wretched agony or was it bliss? Fuyumi would never know.

She supposed he felt free at that moment.

The members of the Todoroki family rarely spoke. They believed to portray their thoughts through actions. Fuyumi rarely talked too, as a result of that.

She strained herself to converse with her parents and siblings just for the sake of their family.

It had always been easy to talk to Touya.

He had been her better half, the other side of her coin, the light to her shadows... he had been everything to her.

When he had departed in his azure flames, Fuyumi should have left with him.

Instead, she chose to simply watch the incident as it took place, nothing but a doll of flesh and blood moved by the strings of her expectations.

Fuyumi couldn't even remember Touya's last words to her.

Were they wrathful or docile? Were they sacrificing or prideful? Were they caring or vicious?

Only memories sustained her thoughts of Touya.

 Perhaps that is why she found it difficult to converse with Touya at his grave.

Movement rustled near the edges of the cemetery and Fuyumi looked at the source to distract herself.

A slender shadow leaned on a black pine tree covered in darkness. It was morning but Fuyumi could see no part of him - or was it a she?

The person turned slightly and Fuyumi received a view of burnt flesh. She should have cringed but Fuyumi felt only fascination. The scars felt oddly familiar.

The figure turned and Fuyumi saw blue eyes flash in the sunlight.

She gasped and reached out because was that-?

Fuyumi stumbled on loose rocks and rose to her feet. She rubbed her eyes and looked again at the person but there was no one.

She relaxed but felt tense either way. 

It was only a mirage. An illusion she had brought in grief. An apparition that she had produced in a futile measure to calm herself.

Touya was dead and nothing would change that.

At times Fuyumi hated social media.

It was an unchanging force, never steady and skill and Fuyumi despised that.

She needed consistency in her life.

But she tried for the sake of her younger brothers.

Shouto had posted something new today.

It was a photograph on his Instagram account taken in an Italian restaurant.

Bile rose in Fuyumi's throat.

The green-haired boy who he defeated in the Sport's Festival had an arm wrapped around Shouto. The boy was grinning, his freckles constellations of his own. Shouto had a faint blush on his pale cheeks but he possessed a faint smile and mirth danced in his eyes.

Two of their classmates sat behind him. 

A round-faced and cheery girl with her fingers placed in a peace sign and a stern-looking boy wide-eyed at Shouto's and the freckled boy's display.

The post read "The happiest day of my life with @deku, @uravity, and @imperium.

On other days, seeing this post would bring tears to Fuyumi's eyes. 

But today was the day where Touya died in their own house and Shouto was out there celebrating another foolish day with his classmates.

 Fury and indignation rose in Fuyumi's core and she slammed her phone on her desk.

How dare he?

How dare Shouto do this after Touya perished in a fiery blaze this very day?

How could he?

Touya had died to prevent Shouto from training as vigorously as Touya once had.

Touya had died to release their mother's burden and to protect them as she once died.

Touya had died to defend the hopes of his siblings.

Touya had died for all of them and something more and what does Shouto do?

Her anger feels both just and unfair.

Shouto had been just a child when it all took place. He had been a slight thing with no knowledge of the outside world. He was so innocent, all wide-eyed and pure.

She shouldn't blame him like this.

But Touya deserves so much more than a deserted gravestone and sweet lies.

He deserves to live happily and successfully.

Touya never deserved death.

Her bitter feelings make her find the group chat between herself, Natsuo, and Shouto.

I visited Touya's grave today, she types.

Once the word grave was difficult for her to think about and place Touya's name somewhere in that phrase.

It all felt so wrong.

The course of time changed that.

She clicks send and waits patiently for a few minutes.

I'm going after uni courses end. I commissioned a bouquet for him and then I'll leave, wrote Natsuo in reply.

Don't dwell too much on the past, she writes, her maternal instincts taking place.

Of course. Though, I wish I can say the same for Sho.

Shouto types back instantly, What do you mean?

Fuyumi exits her messages. She feels too bitter now to read irrelevant excuses.

It was supposed to be a leisurely Saturday if Touya had not died today. Normally, Fuyumi would spend her time doing household chores but Fuyumi feels too empty.

She rushes to the door of their house leaving as soon as she came.

Fuyumi wanders around unknowing before deciding to take a trip to the mall.

She runs for she is not patient enough to walk. She feels so energized yet so hollow.  

Sweat mats her snowy hair to her scalp and Fuyumi pants in exhaustion.

She has reached the mall and people are looking at her strangely.

Fuyumi does not pay them any heed.

Perhaps she can buy a chocolate cheesecake for herself or maybe purchase something for her father.

Obtaining a new air conditioner wouldn't be so bad, it would lessen-

The floor shakes and Fuyumi stumbles while cracks appear on the concrete floor.

Lava creeps on the floor and Fuyumi dimly realizes this is what a villain attack is.

The instincts groomed by her father kick in and she jumps to her feet.

The lava comes from the mall and Fuyumi can hear the cries and screams of the victimized.

She rushes towards the source, an unorthodox action.

Fuyumi knows she can aid with her ice-based quirk and combat the lava in any way.

There are people paralyzed in fear on the ground and she pulls them up.

"It's okay," she tells a group of children huddled on the ground.

The minutes fly by as she helps the victims in any way possible.

She is Enji Todoroki's daughter and she must act as such.

An ice wall is conjured from her hands and Fuyumi trembles in the effort. It would have been harder if she had not used it in her quirk in so long.

The pent-up energy aids her at this moment.

But she is still mentally weary and using her quirk cause exhaustion in her and...

Fuyumi feels so tired.

Her ice is breaking and shards fly into the growing pool of lava. 

Fuyumi stumbles back but she must do something, she cannot simply do nothing.

The lava surges towards her and it demolishes her ice wall. Her quirk has always been feeble and it shows now in this moment of weakness.

She coughs, phlegm flying out of her mouth, and... she just wants to sleep but she can't.

Fuyumi places her hands in front of her face and closes her eyes.

Will this be how she dies?

In a decrepit place with no one who knows her, surrounded by the element that has always been her ruination.

Fuyumi has never been afraid of death, for death is what all must face.

But, she just wishes to die after seeing her brother one last time.

A wave of heat rushes at her, and Fuyumi opens her eyes.

She wants to see her death and face it.

Suddenly, azure flames appear before her.

They do not burn her for flames that colour never burned her.

And there stands the same figure she saw in the cemetery.

She knows for sure the figure is a man now, and there is something so familiar about him.

She squints as the azure flames push back against the lava. Blue flames have always burned the hottest and nothing stands its wrath.

The figure turns back and Fuyumi sees, and she knows that there is no one else it could be, no one else with that colour of eyes, that smile, that everything that just screams-

Fuyumi wishes to whisper a name that she had not uttered for years but she just cannot.

Fuyumi does not feel drowsy when she wakes.

She is surrounded by shades of white and black, a monochrome setting.

"Fuyumi," comes a whisper. 

She turns and sees her father. 

Enji Todoroki looks out of place in the small room. He is placed on a small stool and he has decided to wear mundane clothing.

Fuyumi feels oddly pleased that he decided not to wear his hero outfit.

There is an awkward and stifling silence that Enji manages to contain by placing his callused hand on Fuyumi's head.

He radiates warmth like Touya always did.

"Don't strain yourself," he says softly and turns to leave.

Fuyumi wants to ask him to stay but all she can see is that scarred person who so resembled her brother.

Moments later Natsuo and Shouto barge in the room.

"Fuyumi," Natsuo exclaims as he rushes to her side, "Are you okay?"

Shouto silently stands beside him.

Fuyumi realizes that she has never been hospitalized her entire life.

It was always someone else, but never her.

Any hostile feelings she harboured towards Shouto disappears as she beckons them to come towards her.

"Of course," she says with a faint smile.

When Fuyumi visits Touya's grave, later that night, she knows that the figure would be there.

She is correct.

A person kneels in front of the grave adorned in shades.

She walks slowly beside him and kneels.

Fuyumi does not look until he does.

Charred, purple skin covers his body and a slight smile plays on his lips. Vermillion hair has transformed into ebony, surely artificial as Fuyumi can see his original roots.

His eyes are always the same. So knowing and feeling. Today they are filled with anguish.

He places warm hands on her face and Fuyumi does not flinch.

Courage surges in her and she whispers a name long-forgotten.

"Touya."

He wrinkles his nose. "Dabi. Not Touya, not anymore."

He turns and she follows his gaze.

They are looking at the stars, bright in their ascension and everything seems correct.

Everything, just everything is perfect.

[madiiko12]

new york’s very own madison ‘madi’ ko was spotted on broadway street in chanel sneakers . your resemblance to kim chungha is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-first birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being obsessive , but also ambitious . i guess being a virgo explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be glittery eyes, dangling earrings, & chanel draped in pearls.  ( cisfemale & she/her) + ( kale, 20 , she/her , est. )

hi honeybuns !! im back and with child. there is a brief mention of an ed under the cut but i block it off with a tw start & end.    if you’d like to plot pls leave a like and i can dm you or hit you up on discord !! my discord is kale#3079  

BACKSTORY

haneul madison ko was born september 18, 1999 to two immigrant parents from S.K. her birth name is haneul, but she went by the name madison since it was easier to pronounce + madi began to almost detest her culture??

it was just that growing up she would sometimes get bullied for looking different at her school, for the way her packed lunches smelled/looked, the way people would stare if she spoke korean to her parents, how other kids would make fun of her english since she didn’t pick up on vocab/grammar as quickly since she didn’t practice at home with her parents. she just became SO insecure about it that she rejected her culture. she wouldn’t bring her mom’s food to school, if her mom ever forced her to take it she’d throw it away  and choose to starve instead. she wouldn’t speak korean back to her parents in public, barely even in private (which reeaaallly upset her parents). this also REALLY destroyed her korean language skills. she can understand still, but she can barely hold a basic conversation anymore.

as she grew up, and continued this sense of distancing herself from her culture, she ultimately distanced herself from her family. which left her feeling -  - alone often, even though it was all due to her own choices. in this loneliness, she found her escape in music. she would wear headphones constantly through the halls, in car rides, in her room when her parents yelled at her to turn the music down. she just loved music. she saved up the money her parents gave her whenever she worked at the nail salon (her parents owned it!!) to thrift an old keyboard. she became self-taught by trying to copy melodies of songs she’d listen to, thrifting piano lesson books, staying after school with the music teacher learning to play. sometimes she’d even skip lunch to sit in the chorus room with her choir director and play.

it’s not that she had a LACK of friends growing up, maybe just that she lacked a best friend. she had a lot of friends, but no one that she felt so connected to in the way she felt connected to music. perhaps, she was addicted to her loneliness.

she spent a lot of time playing the piano and dabbling in writing music that her grades started to fall (not that she was ever the BEST student) and her parents literally took away her piano. they said it was a waste of time because they wanted her to focus on doing well, so she could get into a good university, and then live a good life. music was just a distraction

but that didnt work

she would sneak out into the city to go to concerts and poetry readings. she’d sneak out and go to indie songwriters scenes while her parents thought she was at the library with one of her school friends

This underground scene had her full heart!! she was surrounded by likeminded people who just lived for music. she was hearing all of these incredible people who were all looking for their start. maybe not looking for anything at than just to sing their songs. tbh i think this was the point she was happiest. she was completely enveloped in music, just for the sake of music. There wasn’t any pressure, just music. Just the songs. she was wide eyed looking at this whole underground scene of artists. So maybe some plots from these underground charas?!

she’d perform some songs at karaoke nights and the indie sessions, and a producer took a keen interest in one of her songs. basically im kind of stealing halsey’s career start, but she posted a song Came in Close on SoundCloud and just blew up overnight. in the morning, she woke up to a record label asking her to fly to LA for a meeting.

and thus, Madison Ko began a career as Madi Ko where she’d release her debut album, Honey, a few months later. (DISCOGRAPHY HERE). her music is very 80s synth inspired!

new album that is most definitely CRJ’S EMOTION is coming soon...

PERSONALITY

right off the bat, madi is an absolute firecracker!! she’s loud, bursting with personality, has a lack of inhibitions that CHAOTICALLY mixes with her spontaneity

part of this is projecting her insecurities. she felt lonely as a child but doesn’t want to be seen as that to the world. it’s not so much a persona but an exaggeration of who she was. 

she likes to show off her glam bc it, once again, hides her insecurities. 

she just kind of is dramatic anymore

like everything about her

her persona as Madi Ko, upcoming popstar underdog, is like DUNKED in glitter, over the top stages and sets, draped in couture. basically her stages/outfits/dances/mvs are like Chungha’s but with Pale Waves and Carly Rae Jepsen VC. ex: 1, 2, 3, 4

also bc im obsessed with chungha’s famous diamond wink, IT’S GONNA BE MADI’S THING TOO. so basically madi has trended on twt a few times bc of her signature diamond wink bc she effing glues rhinestones and glitter under her eyes for performances !! she said fuck corneas !! ex: 1, 2, 3      ....god chungha is magical

so while madi is like a brand hypebeast n never shuts up, she can also get,,, easily annoyed. and heavily perceives ppl on first impressions despite that being the reason she felt misunderstood a lot growing up. 

definitely argumentative!!! will blow up arguments for no reason n then later questions why she made it such a big deal but cant own up to her mistakes

when she decides she doesnt like you, SHE DOESNT LIKE YOU. it’s done. bridge is burned, she’s not keen on second chances

fame has definitely given her a bit of an ego problem --- she’s a bit more aggressive, self-obsessed while intrinsically insecure, is too busy flaunting her material possessions and trendy life that she can...lose touch of reality. basically most of her high school friends cant stand her. HC that her high school bf broke up with her bc she was no longer was the madison ko he knew!!! so if anyone wants to be that ex lmk !!! she’s written songs about them!!!

definitely the type of girl who is so hype at a party, dancing in fallen confetti, standing on the fireplace mantle, but then midway realizes she’s lonely. sad at a party. 

ED TW STARTS!!!!!

....

she kind of always had body image issues growing up, but it was very off and on, but once she got signed and being by surrounded by cameras became normal she formed a full fledged ED. she’s passed out at concerts a few times bc of her ED, but they always brush it off as “not enough rest” or “she wasnt feeling well that day but pushed to perform anyway as to not disappoint the fans”

so feel free for ur muses to point it out !! she’ll get really defensive like “i eat i just work out a lot” and yeah it’s true she works out a lot but she...doesn’t really eat

it’s also one of the causes of her irritability ...

.....

END ED TW!!!!

idk why this is so long

always up for mischief! 

does love a good prank. asks weird hypotheticals 

is not scared of an ouija board

will get wasted off a few shots and drunk madi is UNSTOPPABLE 

one time drunk madi cried bc her siamese cat (MOCHI !!!) wouldn’t ever get to go to school and would never know chemistry..... the dramatics.....

she is sensitive and despises it. she does everything she can to not come across as sensitive

however, she’s so obsessive. so deep in feeling. when she feels something she FEELS it. when she is mad it boils through her. when she is in love it is all she knows. when she is sad it covers her like sweaters and blankets on rainy days. she doesn’t know how to half-feel. everything she feels stops her in her tracks.

HOWEVER she’s the most obsessive with her own insecurities — so in relationships she’s kind of known for tapping out early. she just gets scared and the fleetingness of her career and that she’s at her very core, lonely and disappointed in herself, makes her want to run away thinking that letting down her walls and being vulnerable could only be disappointing for her SO. so maybe she ghosted ur chara or gave some lame excuse

Kind of obsessed with how she’s perceived

terrified that at any moment her career could be thrown away, her deemed irrelevant, and she goes back to being Madison Ko, daughter of nail techs in Koreatown. and then her parents would have been right all along, music was a waste of time.

she’s just my little fallen angel who flew to the sun (fame) and it constantly eats away at her girlhood, at her heart.

anyways this is all i got rn <3 come love me sorry i kind of didn’t shut up this is long

WANTED CONNECTIONS

an ex from before she was famous who broke up with her because of how she changed!! PLEASE i have ideas for this. plus,,, you get a lot of songs about ur chara!!! could be from high school, maybe someone in the music scene she frequented before she was signed, anything!!

anothr ex/fwb/undefined relationship i’d love is one when she was first famous who just introduced her to everything. something like a whirlwind that was exciting and magical. she’s written songs about this person.

exes in general. 

hookups/fwb

romantic plots. pls i have songs who need meaning. friends to lovers, one sided (either way), slowburn, ANYTHING. love cruel summer plots, anything lover by tswift

PR relationships -- would LOVE one where she falls in love with the other despite how clearly defined they made their relationship

love triangles in general just get me going

best friend!!!! the one’s who know how the other feels just by looking at each other. they have countless sleepovers. tell each other everything. cry together on bathroom floors. pregame together. 

ex friends. for whatever reason -- maybe madi did smth shitty, maybe they did. maybe there was backstabbing, maybe madi sacrificed friendship for a career, maybe she made moves on their romantic partner/interest despite being fully aware. idk. gimme

People she knew from the underground/indie scene before they were famous!! they’d have bonded over their love for music, little indie dreams kind of vibe. just imagine a group of dreamers !! Would love if they made some kind of pact!!!

party friends

collabs !!

pranks. mischief. gimme

enemies. gotta cook up some drama, yknow

GIRL GANG. god i just want this so bad like make a girls dream come true

[oskea93]

Why Can’t I (1)

Warning: Language. 

HEY GUYS!  SO- I know I told you guys a few weeks ago that I felt like writing a Duff McKagan fanfic. At the time, I wasn’t sure where I was gonna go with it, often writing ideas down and then realizing they kind of suck. I honestly almost gave up writing this story because it wasn’t going the way I hoped it to go...UNTIL! I don’t know if any of you guys have ever seen the movie Cocktail with Tom Cruise, (it’s amazing, you should def check it out) but I was watching it and the idea came to me. If you have seen Cocktail, then you know it’s kind of cheesy in a way, I promise this will not be a cheesy story! It’s going to have elements of the movie, not focusing on the whole movie itself. I’m sorry if that didn’t make sense. I’m not sure it makes sense myself. I’m actually kind of nervous to be putting this out there because I have found and read some amazing Duff stories and I just hope my story can reach to their level of awesomeness. I am still going to be writing Keep it to Yourself (my baby for right now) and i’m going to be working on this story as well. If you read Thinking of You, my first Nikki story, you may have noticed that I haven’t updated that in a while. That story is actually on hold for right now until I figure out what i’m gonna do to it. I don’t want to give it up but i’m having hard time writing anything for it right now. I’ll stop rambling now and end this long ass post!  IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE LET ME KNOW! ALSO, IF YOU ACTUALLY ENJOYED THIS STORY, PLEASE LET ME KNOW AS WELL :) 

“Jamaica, here we come!”

I watched as my best friend exclaimed loudly, causing those around us to stop and stare. “Why aren’t you celebrating with me?” Bryn asked, reclaiming her seat next to me. “We’ve been waiting for how long for this trip and you’re sitting here like a bump on a log?” I rolled my eyes. Don’t get me wrong, I was very excited to be going to a tropical paradise. New York was in the middle of a cold snap, snow falling almost every day. I couldn’t wait to dig my feet in the warm sand and have the sun shine all over my body. Even though this was a dream trip, the thought of what I would be coming back to had me on edge. I guess I should explain a few things before we get too in-depth.

First off, I just want to say that I love and respect my parents. I know they want nothing but the best for me BUT their opinions are not always wanted or even needed. My father is the main culprit when it comes to sharing his opinion on how his family should be ran. He pushed my sister and I to be the best of the best, and that also included our taste in men. He wanted Devin and I to marry men that belonged to successful families, themselves having to be successful as well in their own right. He would often take it upon himself to pick out guys he thought suit us best, convincing us to go on dates with them to see where the relationship goes. For Devin, she got a husband out of it. As for me, I got a headache from being so annoyed by these guys. Each guy my father introduced me to was a complete and total dick. Self-centered, womanizing, egotistical dicks! I eventually told my dad that enough was enough. I was losing brain cells and my patience was dwindling with each date I had.

I guess you could say my dad listened… For a total of 3 weeks. Before I knew what was happening, a guy was being pushed into my office with my father trailing close behind. He introduced himself as Luke Reynolds. He was the son of one of my father’s friends, a very prominent businessman in the area. Luke was born with a silver spoon in his mouth but didn’t show it like the others did. He was somewhat down to earth but I could sense a bit of entitlement in his mannerisms. He knew he was good looking, which he was, and knew that he could get any girl he wanted. At the time, I guess you could say I was desperate. I had been on multiple dates that my father set me up on and they were all shit. Even though I told myself that my dating days were over, I decided to give this guy one last chance. If this didn’t work out then I was going to drop everything and join the convent. To my surprise, the date went amazing. We had so much in common and I slowly started falling for the guy. We dated for a little over a year before he popped the question. At the time, I thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. He was my person. He was the type of guy my parents approved of. He was an all-out catch. Without thinking, I told him yes and the wedding planning began.

As the wedding got closer and closer, my feelings for Luke started to change. I went from wanting to be around him all the time to not even caring if I saw him for a couple of days. Just the things he said would annoy me. Finally, Bryn took notice and suggested a girls trip to get away from the craziness of wedding planning and my sudden annoyance to my future husband. She had worked it out where we would spend a week or two on a tropical island, away from Luke, away from my parents, and away from anything that had to do with the wedding. At first, I tried to tell her that it wasn’t a good idea. I didn’t feel like flying or even leaving my apartment building at the time. I was just so burnt out, deciding that I didn’t want to have any more human interaction. Of course, Brynn couldn’t take no for an answer and I guess you could say the rest is history.

“You know I’m excited.” I replied, a reassuring smile adorned my face. She looked at me for a second, probably knowing that I was lying to her. She didn’t say anything else and neither did I.

“Ladies and gentleman, I am happy to announce that flight 4673 to Montego Bay, Jamaica is now boarding at Gate 4. Please have boarding passes ready and available.” …
_________________________________________________________________ “Oh my gosh!” 


Bryn squealed as she took in the scenery of the island. “I feel like I’ve died and gone to Heaven.” I placed my things down on the bed, my body falling next to my suitcase. 

“We almost did.” I muttered. The flight from Miami to Jamaica was horrendous. The turbulence was awful and it didn’t help matters that Bryn was freaking out the whole time. I’m pretty sure my arm is bruised from how hard she was holding onto it. She was even making the people around us uncomfortable.

“Don’t be such a negative nelly, Lauren!” She exclaimed, throwing herself next to me. We laid in silence for a few seconds. “You’re gonna go out and have fun, right?” I turned my head, my eyes connecting with hers. I nodded my head. “Promise me.” Her voice decreasing an octave. “You need to have fun or else I’m gonna be very mad.” I couldn’t help but start laughing at her seriousness.

I took her hand in mine, “I promise that I will go out there and have the time of my life.” I watched as her eyes studied me. “You pinky swear?” She asked, sticking out her right pinky. I immediately wrapped my pinky finger around hers. “I pinky swear.” Bryn Coleman was the person I trusted most in life. I trusted her more than my parents and sister combined. Bryn was always there when I needed her, even if it was 3am and I needed advice on what shampoo to use. Yeah, there were times when I wanted to choke her to death, but she was my person. She was my best friend. She was my pinky swear partner.

“What do you say we go out to one of those clubs tonight?” She removed herself from the bed. “I heard from this girl I work with that they get pretty wild.”

“Sure.” I replied, my gaze going back to the ceiling above me. I wasn’t really into the whole night club scene but I wasn’t gonna let Bryn go by herself, especially in a place like Jamaica! Maybe I needed to take Bryn’s advice and stop being a negative nelly. This vacation was planned on my behalf. I needed to get the stick out of my ass and have some fun. Who knows, this could be the last time I have an adventure like this…

“Come dance with me!”

Bryn had her hands reached out to me, an annoyed look on her face. As soon as we walked through the club doors, Bryn made her way onto the dance floor and started dancing with those around her. I was never big on dancing so I decided to take a seat at the bar and order myself a drink. I made sure to keep my eyes on her while I sipped on my drink. “Lauren!” She yelled my name, causing those around me to stop and look. I could feel my face get red with embarrassment, sending daggers in Bryn’s direction.

I took one last drink before getting up and following a now ecstatic Bryn to the dance floor. The place was packed with people, some with the spouses and others dancing with strangers. The reggae music filled the hot, stuffy air. I held onto Bryn’s hand as she led us to the front of the stage. Once up front, Bryn’s hips started swaying to the beat of the music. I soon followed suit, slowly getting into the club’s vibe. We must have danced for almost an hour before Bryn announced she had to use the restroom. I took this as my opportunity to sit down and get a drink as I waited. I made my way back to the bar, ordering myself another beer. Before I could hand the bartender, he shook his head, refusing to take the money. “Already paid for.” He stated, pointing toward the end of the bar. I looked to where his finger was pointing, seeing three guys leaning against the bar, drinking their own drinks. Two were blonde, the other had a head full of chocolate curls.

I watched as they looked out at the crowd, talking and laughing at times. The one guy must have felt my stare as his head turned and his eyes connected with mine. I quickly looked away, acting like I was looking in the other direction. I could feel my face heat up in embarrassment as I kicked myself for staring too long, getting caught right in the act.

“How’s your beer?” I jumped in surprise as a man’s voice sounded in my ear. I quickly turned around, seeing the guy who had caught me staring. “Woah-” He started to laugh. “I didn’t mean to scare you; Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I muttered out, taking a drink of the beer. I couldn’t help but check the guy out. First off, he was incredibly tall! He was almost as tall as Luke, maybe an inch or two shorter. His bleach blond hair resting nicely on his tan, tattooed shoulders. His all black ensemble made him stick out like a sore thumb among the other patrons. “You wanna another drink?” He took the empty seat next to me. I watched as he flagged down the bartender, signaling to order two more beers.

“You bought the beer?” I questioned. “How’d you know I even liked beer?” I turned my body to face his, my knee accidentally brushing against his. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, placing one in his mouth. He motioned for me to take one. I put my hand up, declining the offer. “I saw you drinking one earlier. Figured you needed another one after dancing the night away.” He said nonchalantly.

“Are you stalking me?” I asked. His head turning, our eyes connecting once again. His green eyes held a hint of mischief and wonder. I couldn’t help but start smirking. “Who are you?” He pulled his cigarette out of his mouth, blowing out the smoke he’d been harboring.

“Duff, Duff McKagan.” He placed his hand out for me to shake. I could feel my smirk growing larger. “What’s yours?” He questioned, his lips forming into a smirk. I debated on telling him my real name. I had no idea who this guy was. I was far away from home. What if I told him and he turns out to be a stalking murderer? “Molly.” I lied. “Molly Jones.” I shook his hand. His hand felt rough and callused. The smirk stayed on his face as he shook my hand. I don’t know if he could tell I was lying of not but he was going with it for now. “So, Molly-”He began. “What brings you to Jamaica?”

Before I could answer the question, Bryn came busting through the crowd. “Lauren!” She giggled once she reached me. “Lauren, I thought you left me or something.” She wined, grabbing onto my neck and holding me. I looked over a Duff, giving him an apologetic smile. “The bathroom here is so groady. There were people doing lines of coke off the nasty sink, I thought I was back in Brooklyn or something.” The smile that was on Duff’s face only grew as he nursed his drink and smoked his cigarette. Bryn soon let go of my neck, her head turning to face where Duff was sitting.

“You’re in my seat”! She yelled toward him. “That’s my seat, mister!” Duff turned to look at her. “Bryn, chill out.” I muttered. I was a bit embarrassed by the way she was acting. She went to the bathroom completely fine and now she was making a show of things. “He’s in my seat, Lauren.” She cried out. “Get him out of my seat.” She slumped her body against mine, almost knocking me off the bar stool. It was as if she went from being a 23-year-old woman to a three-year-old child.

“I can leave if that’s what she wants.” Duff spoke up. I quickly shook my head no, telling him to stay put. “We’re actually gonna leave.” I stumbled out of the chair, keeping a strong hold on my now high friend. “You need some help?” He quickly stood up, taking Bryn’s elbow in his grasp.

“Get your hands off me, guy!” Bryn exclaimed. She jerked her elbow out of Duff’s hand, turning to me and wrapping her arms back around my neck. “I’m sorry.” I mouthed to him. He gave me a smile and nodded. “Thanks again for the beer.”

“Sure thing.” I was starting to feel bad for lying to him. “Maybe I’ll see you around or something.”

I nodded my head the best I could, “Maybe you will.” I could feel Bryn’s grip on my neck grow tighter. “Let me get her back to the hotel before she makes a bigger ass of herself.” Duff and I said our goodbyes before I dragged Bryn out of the club.

Once outside, I set Bryn down on the bench and hailed for a taxi. “He was kind of cute.” Bryn muttered. I looked over at her, confusion written on my face. “The guy in there, the blonde guy.” She was talking about Duff. “You were totally into him.”

“Was not.” I quickly defended. “I was just talking to him.”

Bryn let out a laugh. “Lauren, you are a terrible liar.”  

I rolled my eyes, turning back to the road to see where the damn taxi cab was. I don’t know what Bryn was talking about. There was no way I was into Duff. I didn’t even know the guy! He was just a guy that bought me a drink at the bar. That’s it and that’s all it will ever be...

[nadiineross]

Print: “How do you 'accidentally' achieve immortality?"

note: abt ur prompts.. i ….actually was planning a fic abt immortality but i dont think itll be done for ages so i slammed this one out. i also made a few posts abt superhero aus btw :’). i watched hercules for the first time in like a decade bc of ur other prompt and wow…. hades is still so funny DSJFHSKH ok anyway i prolly wont write a lot in the coming month bc semesters starting next week BUT i can type out some headcanons for prompts u give me, if u guys r interested in that?

i didnt proofread this and i dont want to because i am Lazy anyway thank u sm for continuing to talk to me abt chlodine yrs down the road. pls feel free to send in ur chlodine headcanons or if u jus wanna scream abt them

Nadine’s been alive for a long time, and so nothing really surprises her anymore. But, then again, Chloe is always her exception.

//

They first meet in India, only a passing thing. Being alive for so long, well, it gets boring. Nadine, also, could never really handle being purposeless. She enjoys having goals and working hard to achieve them, and she definitely enjoys the brief period, afterwards, where she relishes in those achievements.

It was easier, before, to find purpose: fighting. There were a lot of wars and Nadine was good at it. She was, and is, by all accounts, remarkable. However, to preserve her anonymity, she allows herself to dissolve into the unknowns of history.

She has had many names, most of which she has since forgotten. But, her first, she will not forget: Nadine. It is that name she gives to Chloe, and it is the one Chloe knows her by.

At that time, in India, she had nothing to do. It seemed the age of fighting as she knew it was coming to a close, and she grew bored.

Of course, this wasn’t a new experience; Nadine can hardly find anything she has not experienced. Usually, she travelled. She’s been to most places, but they were always changing, and this was something she appreciated on a deep level.

India, she has not visited in almost four decades.

On her first night, she eats a feast on her own. The restaurant owners were impressed, to say the least.

It is routine, her travels. During the day, she sees the sights, explores the places that have changed the most and visits those that she loved the last time she was here. When nightfalls, again, she feasts. Sometimes, when she isn’t too tired, she’ll take someone to bed.

This, she does rarely. It is, after all, hard to find a woman interested in other women in this world. Harder, even, to find one who isn’t interested in a long term investment, since Nadine is not very interested in the part where she outlives everyone. It isn’t a pressing issue, though. She has needs, sure, but she is patient, and sex did not fall very high on her list of priorities.

Besides, she understands. The consequences of being a woman like her are grave and not a lot of people would want to risk their lives for a fling.

Chloe is only her second in India.

There is a river, a half day’s walk away from where she’s staying. It is her second to last night in India, and there aren’t a lot of things she is itching to see, so she decides to make the walk.

By the time she gets there, the sun is hanging low in the sky, not yet set, but almost. She’s sweating from the heat and the oppressive humidity characteristic of the Indian climate. So, naturally, she unbuttons the first few buttons of her shirt and leans over the edge to splash water over her face.

It is a relief on her skin, and she looks up to gasp out a breath when she sees her. Chloe, shameless creature that she is, watches her.

Nadine doesn’t know how she didn’t notice the woman lounging in the water before now. Bewildered, Nadine blinks at her and feels very bare, suddenly hyper-aware of the droplets running down her face and into her shirt.

“Hello,” Nadine finally says. She is good with languages—there isn’t a lot to do when you’ve been alive for a few centuries.

“Hey.” She swims over until Nadine can see her smirk with distinct clarity, until her bare shoulders come up, but does not go farther up the shore. “Not from around here?”

Nadine raises an eyebrow. Clearly not. “No,” she says.

“Huh. Chloe, nice to meet you,” says she, extending a wet hand from the water. Nadine has to slosh into the water to take it and give it a firm, short up-down shake.

It’s a strange name, given the context, and this whole thing takes her off guard. She stupidly blurts out: “Nadine.”

Chloe’s grin becomes wider. She doesn’t try to hide the way she eyes Nadine’s open shirt. Nadine isn’t dense, either, so she knows when there is an opportunity she could take, is she wanted.

She’s not sure yet.

“And you? Are you from around here?”

Humming noncommittally, Chloe stands, abruptly, to her full height and walks around Nadine to the shore. She is naked, and Nadine has to swallow a lump in her throat.

Nadine has seen a lot of women, and she can say with certainty that Chloe is one of the most beautiful she has seen. She tries not to stare and succeeds, given that she has excellent self-control. Though she will admit, Chloe certainly tested her in that moment.

“Where are you from?” Chloe asks as she picks up a shirt strewn across a rock and slips into it. Now, Nadine notices the pair of pants and shoes hidden behind the rock.

Nadine smiles, wryly, aware that she is giving more information than she is receiving. “Africa.”

Chloe doesn’t seem to take offence at her brusqueness. Just laughs. “Ah.” Then, because Chloe is so brave and so young, barely thirty by the looks of it, she stoops and holds up her pants, and asks, “Should I bother with these or are we going to address… what should I call it? The tension?”

Oh, how they address it.

After, as Chloe disappears into the trees on the other side of the river, Nadine realizes that she is entirely, profoundly, surprised.

//

Nadine has met many bold women; she can be one herself when she wants to be. Chloe, she never really forgets, but she is filed away into a tiny corner of her mind, fading away until Nadine never really thinks about it unless she is alone at a river and has run out of things to think about.

Besides, World War II has started, and she’s occupied with killing those Nazi bastards. She doesn’t enlist in any army—can’t exactly fly under the radar there—but she has connections and resources, and works perfectly well alone.

In the face of all this, Chloe is not forgotten, but she is not remembered.

And Nadine’s life goes on, and on, and on, as it is wont to do.

//

Nadine doesn’t know why she never dies. It just happened or, more precisely, it just never happened.

Her parents did. She never really knew her father, as her mother raised her, but she does know he died. Her mother, she held as she passed. 

Years later, people began to talk. Nadine turned thirty, and that was it.

She doesn’t know if she can die at all, but she isn’t interested in testing her theories. She has avoided fatal wounds for so long; she won’t stop now.

Sure, she has suffered and has felt like she might die, but she doesn’t think she wants to die. There are so many things she wants to know.

So, she decided, a century into her life, that she would not question it. She isn’t at all old enough to have been there for the Trojan War, but she does know not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

//

It is the 2000s and Nadine begins to feel a little existential. She will not fight in wars now, given the stakes and, especially, given her moral compass. Well, at least not official ones. She has accepted that she is a little bit of a vigilante, and she’s focusing on bettering her own home.

Always levelheaded, she never bites off more than she can chew. She only takes to the streets every few weeks. In the meantime, she decides to get into academia.

If she’s so keen on learning, why wouldn’t she go to school? Human achievement is impressive!

She has one PhD already and is working on her second. She has just started, meeting her advisor for only the third time, when she sees a flash of red in the hall, heading towards the History department.

It’s a woman with jet black hair, ponytail swinging. Before Nadine can think to squint, she’s rounded the corner and is gone.

Blinking, Nadine turns away and heads to the courtyard. She likes to sit on the grass and do her research there. Small pleasures.

It’s been an hour, maybe two, when a shadow casts over. Strangely, she feels her heart start to beat faster before she even looks up.

“Hello,” she says, throwing an arm over her forehead to shade herself from the afternoon sun.

Chloe in the flesh. She puts on the same old smirk and looks down at Nadine with her hands on her hips. “Hey, you.”

Nadine raises an eyebrow as she sits down and makes herself at home on Nadine’s picnic blanket, among her sea of books.

“Well, look at you.” Chloe keeps on grinning, shark-like. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“You’re too kind,” Nadine says, thinly. “And neither have you, by the looks of it.”

Dismissively, Chloe waves a hand and tosses her ponytail over her shoulder. “No need to flatter me, you’ve already gotten into my pants.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Much, at least, she thinks. Then, wonders if, perhaps, she is dreaming.

“That’s nice.” Chloe leans closer, growing serious but retaining her persistent underlying curiosity. “Oh, Nadine, what are you?”

Nadine snorts. “Always so bold.”

She shrugs. “Places to be, things to know, people to do. I’m a busy girl.”

Like a shark, Nadine thinks again. She keeps her mouth shut for a few moments, just watching Chloe watching her. As Nadine recalls her memories of Chloe, she notes that Chloe mostly hasn’t changed. Finally, she leans back on an arm and says, “Looks to me like you have all the time in the world.”

“Hm.” Chloe lifts a hand, maybe to touch her arm, maybe to push her hair out of her face, maybe to cup her cheek. Nadine will never know. She tenses, instinctively swaying back a little. Chloe’s hand drops down, but she keeps on smiling. “You’re immortal, then. All the time in the world.”

Nadine doesn’t say anything, just waits for Chloe to draw her conclusions.

“How long have you… been like this?”

Nadine pretends to think. “About a century or five now. You?”

“Well, I was thirty-four when I met you,” Chloe wonders aloud, tilting her head as she does the math. At this, Nadine frowns and, upon seeing this, Chloe huffs a laugh. “Yes, actually thirty-four.”

That makes her roughly two centuries old. Nadine doesn’t know how to feel about this, about everything, about Chloe. She had been, to her knowledge, alone in this for three centuries. Never once had she met someone else like this, and she didn’t want to, she doesn’t think. She had always been slow to trust.

She never tried to think about this too hard; she doesn’t know how it works—is she contagious? But none of the other women turned immortal after going to bed with her. Still, she worries at her lip and examines Chloe.

“How?”

“How am I like this?”

She nods.

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Quid pro quo.”

Nadine rolls her eyes. “I don’t know. I just never died.” She sighs, harshly, and closes the book in her lap with a full clap. “I don’t know.”

“That’s alright,” Chloe says, gently. This time, when she reaches out, to touch her wrist, Nadine lets her. Chloe looks down at the point of contact, seemingly charmed. Then, after a beat, meets Nadine’s eyes again and smiles. “Well, I don’t know how exactly it worked, but this was an accident.”

“…what?” Nadine scoffs. “How do you ‘accidentally’ achieve immortality?”

Chloe looks sheepish now. “I went into an ancient temple and mucked around, and maybe I broke something, and… well, here I am.”

Suddenly, struck by the urge to lie down for a decade or at least go somewhere more private for this discussion, Nadine shoves her books into her bag and stands. Chloe, startled, mirrors her movements and then stills as Nadine rolls up the blanket and easily hefts everything up.

“Uh, what’s going on?”

Nadine picks up her baseball cap and puts it on, and then sweeps an arm towards the paved path. “We’re going to my apartment.”

A little dumbly, Chloe follows along. “Who’s bold now?”

Nadine gives her a look, and Chloe just smiles, looking away with a shrug. They make the journey in silence, Nadine’s is a stubborn one, and Chloe’s obliging. When they reach the apartment, Nadine lets her in first and gestures to the couch. It’s not a very big apartment, but it’s comfortable and in an alright neighbourhood. 

After Nadine puts her bag away, she comes back to see Chloe leaning over the back of the couch to look out her window. She twists back around as Nadine sits.

“You alright?”

Nadine looks up at her, eyes hooded. “Ja.”

Chloe smiles, a kind one. She has such an expressive face. Nadine wants to run her hands over the dips and curves of it. Wants to feel a little more grounded in reality—is she really not dreaming?

The urge to just ask disappears in a moment as Nadine comes back to herself, feeling safer on her own turf.

“So, this is where you’re from.” It’s not a question, but Nadine nods anyway.

“Originally. I don’t remember exactly where but I grew up farther inland and then moved to the coast later before my mother passed.” Nadine rubs a hand at her temple. Tired. “They both died. I’m the only— I was the only one. For the longest time, I was the only one.”

Chloe shifts, an unidentifiable emotion drifting across her face. “Nadine.”

She sighs and says, “I don’t want your pity.”

“You don’t have it,” she says, not ungently. “It’s been a long time.”

For once, Nadine allows herself to give in. She leans over until she falls, turning her face to press her nose into the hard muscle of Chloe’s tensed thigh, just above the knee. She hugs her arms to her chest and counts her breaths. Chloe sighs, too, and puts her hand in Nadine’s hair.

Nadine’s back is to Chloe.

It’s been a long time.

//

So, this is how it happened.

She was abandoned by her mother and raised by a father who wanted a son. He loved her, regardless. He just taught her the ways of his trade.

Her childhood was spent scaling the shelves of libraries as he did his research and sitting uncomfortably still as he spoke to “experts” in their homes. When she was old enough, by his standards, he took her out to ancient ruins, and they explored.

It could be dangerous; she broke a few bones on these adventures. Most never healed properly, and so bumps and scars littered her body.

The worst, the one that almost killed her, occurred in the temple.

Her father passed a few years before, to disease. She carried on his work, suddenly alone. His life’s work: a crumbling ruin.

She had spent days scouting it out, hidden behind a waterfall, like in the legends. She was nervous. Afraid that her father’s work would amount to nothing, that the life she had led without him would’ve turned out to be a waste.

So, she spent days by the falls and walking along the river. It was there that she met Nadine.

She had thought Nadine was a figment of her imagination at first, peeking out from the top of the water. A beautiful, sweaty spirit of the wilds, dressed like an average person.

A blessing she received.

That night, she went in. There were traps, which she expected, and treasures, which she had desperately hoped for. In the centre, buried underneath layers of chambers, was the Tusk.

She got greedy.

Traps triggered—

The Tusk, she held to her chest—

She curled over, protecting it from falling rubble and—

The tip, sharp and shiny, punctured her middle. It was shallow, but still, she cried out and tripped, and the spear she landed on went too far in to be considered shallow.

She doesn’t remember the details; all she knows is that she came back to herself while crawling out the collapsing entrance, sticky with blood.

She hid the Tusk away, for later, and stumbled her way to the nearest town, broken spear sticking out from her ribs.

Half a year later, freshly healed and free from the doctor, she went back. The Tusk was still bloodied, and a gem from the tip of the Tusk had fallen out somewhere. At least, it made up for all her suffering in gold.

In the face of all that, Nadine was not forgotten, but she was not remembered.

//

Feeling awkward and uncomfortable, having been vulnerable for the first time in almost half a millennia, Nadine sits up and grimaces. Chloe opens her bleary eyes and stretches.

“What time’s it?”

Nadine could look at her watch, but she grabs hold of Chloe’s forearm. “Does it matter?”

Chloe looks down and frowns. “I suppose not. What’s happening?”

“Do you want to address the tension?”

Chloe’s muscles relax slowly. She kicks her sneakers off and, in one swift movement, shrugs Nadine’s hand off and settles into her lap. Her mouth descends onto Nadine’s.

This time is almost like the last, fast and sloppy. Except they do it three more times, at least, and afterwards Chloe settles in beside her and stays till morning.

//

Nadine also has many scars, and Chloe maps them all out just as Nadine does to her.

//

“So, am I the older woman or are you the older woman?”

Nadine bites into her skin, licking a soothing stripe along the scar tissue there.

Chloe groans and looks down. “Does that mean I should shut up?”

Nadine gives her an unimpressed look. “Yes.”

“Okay,” she breathes, hand flying to the back of Nadine’s head. “Whatever you say.”

//

South Africa is best experienced in the weeks after Summer has passed, in Chloe’s very vocal opinion, and maybe that’s why the days she spends holed up in Nadine’s apartment feels a little like paradise.

She is not the sentimental type, and Chloe even less so, but there is something to be said for attachments. She had forgotten.

Chloe even admits that she was only here because she saw Nadine’s picture and wanted to use Nadine for information on why she‘s the way she is. Nadine doesn’t take it too personally, because she would’ve done the same, probably.

It ends, of course, as all things do. Not permanently, but Chloe isn’t the type to stay still, and Nadine’s set her sights on finishing this damn degree.

They agree, in five years, they will return to the tree, the patch of grass, and try again.

//

Nadine feels like she has aged the five centuries she had powered through almost numbly in the span of those five years.

They kept in contact because neither of them is the type to make significant, corny gestures like that. Over text, Chloe echoes the sentiment.

For Nadine, it is as if Chloe had barged in, reminded Nadine that she was in control of the remote and that hitting the fast forward button on life wasn’t the only option.

//

“Why do you chase after violence?” came her voice, tinny over the phone. She was in Russia.

“Do I?”

Chloe hums. “All your wars, your crusades. You insist you don’t want to die and yet…”

Nadine raises her eyebrows and finishes typing out her sentence before pushing back on her desk chair. Her first instinct is to be defensive, but Chloe starts to hum tunelessly, and it reminds Nadine that not everything is a fight to be won and— “Ah.”

“Do you wanna talk about something else?” Chloe laughs, then, and jokes, “My abandonment issues? Inability to sit still? Maybe how I’m greedy and selfish?”

Nadine smiles softly. “It’s okay.” She clears her throat. “I think I just got scared of losing people and just, frankly, losing in general, with life and all. I took being independent to the next level. I forgot the value in doing things senselessly, and in a way that’s exactly what I did.”

“How do you mean?”

Nadine shrugs even though Chloe can’t see. “I don’t know why I’m immortal, and I didn’t want to know. What makes me deserving of eternal life and not anyone else? So, I thought only of what I would do with this and doing those things. I’m good at fighting. Why wouldn’t I fight? And I can’t die—there are causes I could give myself to.

“I mean, there were moments, in between, where my thought would wander, of course.” Nadine pauses, feeling nonsensical. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“That’s alright. I get it.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Anytime, love.” Another breathy chuckle. “Literally, anytime. From now until the rest of eternity.”

//

“Hello,” Nadine says when she feels a shadow loom over her.

There’s a rustling, and then a kiss to her cheek. “Hey there, sleeping beauty.”

It’s been five years.

Nadine opens an eye and sees Chloe peering down with her stupidly beautiful smile. Her fingers graze at Nadine’s cheek, featherlight, and Nadine’s touches over them. Warm.

“So weird how you haven’t aged a day.”

“Ja, I didn’t get a chance to develop stress wrinkles since you left.”

Head thrown back, wind blowing her hair aside, Chloe laughs. Nadine thinks there hasn’t ever been a surprise as nice as Chloe since the dawn of time.

Stooping over, Chloe kisses her.

[xoruffitup]

AITAF’s 11th Annual Broadway Show

It’s surreal that this was my second year attending and I’m sitting here typing up a second recap! It hardly feels like a whole year has passed since last November, as the time has been so full of Adam and SW-related joy. After last night’s show, Sarah (the same friend I adventured to TIFF with) and I reflected that following/loving Adam has brought us so many extraordinary experiences we would never have sought out otherwise. Attending military-oriented events and creating stronger ties with the veterans and service members in each of our lives, traveling to Toronto (and shortly to London!!) together, and cultivating the most unlikely and incredible friendships. It’s been an eye-opening, whirlwind year of new and wonderful experiences - chief among which was sitting in a theatre largely full of military personnel and having each of my preconceived stereotypes challenged.

The group I gathered with outside the American Airlines theatre was even bigger than last year. We had my friends Sarah and MP ( @reylonly​), my dad who usually abhors the “veteran” label and yet - to his own surprise - confessed to being deeply moved by last year’s show, a retired Army nurse and her husband, a cousin I hadn’t seen in ages who’s currently enlisted, and her two friends from the army. Our sizable group was first to queue up outside the theatre, with more than plenty to talk and catch up about while we waited.

(Fun/Amusing Fact: That enlisted cousin I hadn’t seen in ages? We reconnected ahead of this show when she messaged me on Facebook: “Hi! I heard from X family member that you like Adam Driver. I’ve attended AITAF performances before and I’ll be going to their NYC event, if you’d like to come as one of my guests?” Yes, that is my rep spreading through the family and you bet I’m proud. :’’))

We thought we had an idea what to expect from last year, but this year’s show surprised and took us off guard in almost every way.

After entering the theatre and passing right by Joanne (looking hella fierce in a fitted tweed suit), we headed up to the reception. Here came a surprise I was personally AMPED about!! While MP, Sarah, and I waited to go in the photo booth they had, we saw Scott Burns and Daniel Jones come into the reception area! I explained a bit in my TIFF recap post about how The Report (aside from being just a stellar film) really engaged me personally because not only do I have a human rights-related job, but the Executive Director of my non-profit is also renowned for being one of the first high-ranking whistleblowers against the CIA torture program when he previously worked in the Department of Defense. His name is Alberto Mora and after I heard Scott Burns namecheck him in several interviews, I talked to Alberto about his involvement in the film. From that conversation with Alberto came the idea to arrange a staff screening of the film, given its relevance to our nonprofit’s mission. In addition to seeing the film at TIFF, I also had the chance through work to attend the DC premiere of the film last week, attended by human rights advocates, House Representatives, and Senators (most depicted in the film - including Diane Feinstein herself!) who were all clearly riveted by the film and the discussion with Scott Burns and Dan Jones that followed. SO (sorry for this digression but I’M STILL SO EXCITED BY THIS) when I saw Dan Jones mingling, I practically started vibrating with everything I wanted to say to him.

After psyching myself up and angsting with MP for a minute (“But it’s gotta be the right time - I don’t want to interrupt him!”) I went over and introduced myself to Dan Jones, saying I’d been at the DC premiere of the film last week and how powerful the evening had been. Long story short - omg what a chill and approachable guy to talk to! I explained quickly that I work with Alberto and I’ve been looking into arranging a screening, to which Dan said he’d “absolutely love” to help with! He told me how to contact him and holy shiiiit now this definitely has to happen!!

So after that reception highlight, we ate a little more cheese and fancy crackers before heading downstairs to the theater and our seats. And there we needed to hold onto our hats and strain to remain chill, because like some Adam-related VIP guest list, we brushed shoulders with Noah Baumbach and Laura Dern as we entered the theater! WHATTT!! It certainly made my heart glad to see so many of these high-profile collaborators of Adam’s supporting him and taking an interest in his non-profit work. And just to see that they’re all friends even off set!

This year’s choice of play, A Raisin In The Sun, immediately set a much different tone than last year’s True West. While last year included a cast of only 4, with Adam and Michael Shannon lifting the majority of the performance as the brothers-at-odds Lee and Austin; this year included a cast of 9 almost exclusively African American actors, who would share the stage in a rotating balance. But before anything else... the show began with AITAF’s Director giving a rundown of their recent and upcoming programming, before she introduced Adam to speak. Annnnd out onto the stage he strode in a black suit and tie (pushing the boundaries of fashion for real) looking so striking and handsome my brain and heart jumped into an overdrive race with each other alsdfjslfjalsdfj :’)))) (Yes, the first moment when I see him in person still makes my heart fly up into my throat.) Most of the audience tried to leap to their feet to give him a standing ovation, before Adam quickly made some slightly panicked abortive hand gestures and everyone sat back down. We were seated so close to the stage that that proximity was really the best kind of intense <3333

First of all, I want to assure everyone that our bb does look like he’s gained some weight back. I think his face looked a bit more filled out than at TIFF (and boy did he fill out that suit just right). Adam recognized all of the active service people and veterans in the audience, thanked the actors and AITAF staff for making the evening possible, and gave his background speech on AITAF’s purpose, journey, and mission. He also spoke a bit about the play that was selected this year, quickly adding “I’ll let the play speak for itself rather than butchering it with my interpretation.” Everyone laughed and my heart was only barely beating under the adoration because at the same time I was getting such a good look at just how big he is, being so close... Not only the height, but the shoulders in the suit and the giant hands that fly around when he’s talking, then he stuffed his hands into his pockets for part of his speech and that just made him look taller and more attractive and alsdkfjalskdjf sir you should really take my health into consideration a little bit!!! ;___;

Fangirl feels meltdowns aside, there were a lot of other beautiful things happening on that stage. It was stirring to listen to Adam introduce the cast (and pronounce all of their names correctly, thank you) with all the deference this play deserves and a cast to do it full justice. In a setting where the audience was largely comprised of a military demographic that is often considered to embody more conservative values, it was poignant to see Adam using his platform in AITAF to push the narratives further and confront the audience directly - not with what separates people, but to draw out the humanity that makes us all so very alike. That is, after all, AITAF’s guiding mission. 

Skipping ahead for a quick moment - one of the actors in the talk-back after the performance brought up how difficult it had been to fund this play when it was first produced in 1959 because investors feared it was “too black” and wouldn’t resonate with audiences. Last night was the most blatant demonstration of how close-minded such fears were, as the almost three-hour long reading kept the audience entirely enthralled, caught up in the humor and the heartbreak and the enduring human spirit that keeps the Younger family’s pride and love for each other in tact; then followed by audience members standing up to share deeply personal and candid accounts of how they saw their own struggles with searching for identity and purpose between military-civilian spheres, and their own experiences of trauma reflected in these complex, lively characters. 

As much as I so enjoyed internally flipped my shit completely getting to hear Adam speak in person at the beginning, it made me more proud than ever to love him as I do when I watched him step back and pass the stage and spotlight to an insanely talented cast of color. AITAF is a force and space that aims for all voices to be heard, and Adam appeared only just enough to underscore and enable that last night.

I hope I’ve already made the point that the cast were simply phenomenal. This year’s performance felt completely different than last year’s in terms of the energy and mood. Last year, Adam and Michael Shannon filled two hours with simmering frustration and aggression that grows increasingly outrageous until it culminates in violence. Adam and Michael moved freely around the stage a lot. I’ll never forget Adam doing handstands, collapsing to his knees right at the front of the stage and his lush long hair falling everywhere (UGH <3), Adam yelling about toast and stealing TVs, barking like a coyote, and finally choking Michael in the final scene. This year, the 9-person-strong cast barely moved from behind their script stands, and yet the emotional impact they delivered was simply stunning. The immediacy of this reading-style performance is just incomparable. I do see a lot of theatre and really enjoy the medium, but watching actors like last night’s cast put on a performance that’s completely uninhibited - completely instinctive and raw - was simply unforgettable. It cuts straight to the emotional core and deepest layer of meaning within the material and the characters. There is nothing between the audience and the existence of these characters’ lives, and the actors lost themselves in the roles completely. It was simply breathtaking to watch, and I couldn’t be more grateful for the opportunity to witness it. Falling in to the Adam bandwagon truly enriched my life in ways I could never have expected

While on the topic of things I couldn’t have expected: Chief among them would be (to be painfully honest) voluntarily attending an event geared for military audiences - and even less enjoying and feeling moved by every second of it. I should probably clarify that although my Dad is a National Guard vet, he rarely speaks about the experience because he was drafted straight out of high school. The memories aren’t easy for him when he knows how close he could have been to being sent to Vietnam; alongside (he admitted to me for the first time following last year’s AITAF show) some amount of guilt towards the friends who were sent and lost their lives. My Dad has never embraced the veteran identity - he felt neither a right nor an affinity to it - and a military settings isn’t one I ever pictured myself feeling comfortable in. And yet, a single AITAF performance was enough to achieve their goal in my heart of building bridges and highlighting commonalities between military and civilian spheres. The military identify is multifaceted, and attending last year’s performance was enough for my Dad to unlock some new acceptance or understanding of that aspect of his own identity. It seemed to let him think of that period in his life in ways beyond antipathy or guilt. It was at least enough for him to open up and speak more candidly to me about his experience than ever before. 

This year’s Q&A was moving, deeply personal, and at times painful. And yet there was truly no better showcase for how a shared experience of theatre can serve to knock down all barriers that might have existed between people when they entered that theatre only hours before.

Highlights:

A man who recently ended his service spoke about how much he connected to the character of Walter Lee in the play. Like Walter, he too feels restless and unfulfilled in his (civilian) job, always feeling like he should be striking out for something more meaningful, something bigger, and never feeling right in his current place. For the audience member, this resonated with his own struggle to find meaning in his civilian life as he navigates the transition of leaving the military. This moved the actor who played Walter Lee (Colman Domingo, who had been TERRIFIC - I mean full-on crying several times throughout the reading) to speak about the personal inspirations and experiences he brought to embodying the character for this setting. Namely, trying to support his veteran older brother’s struggle with drug addiction. As Colman spoke candidly about how the experience with his brother had seeped into his performance, at least two other cast members dabbed tears from their eyes.

The most emotionally difficult and yet moving moment shared throughout the whole theater. A man in the balcony asked for advice on finishing a play that he began writing as a means of trying to process and work through unresolved trauma he experienced in combat zones while deployed. He explained with something of a despairing tremble in his voice that he’s reached a point where he feels emotionally blocked - where confronting the memories of comrades dying in his arms simply freezes him and he can’t seem to move any further. The theater was silent as he had to pause speaking for a moment, audibly overcome for a moment in the effort of speaking and sharing this aloud. Since the speaker was up in the balcony too far back for me to see, I was watching the cast and AITAF team on stage. Being so close, I thought I saw something visibly pass over Adam’s face. Later that evening, the cousin I just reconnected with at this event was the one to bring it up unprompted when she asked, “Did you see his eyes when the man was talking about his struggle to write?” So yes, it’s confirmed, I wasn’t imagining that Adam visibly choked up for a moment listening to this audience member. After the commenter was able to finish speaking, a few cast members responded. Adam, after being silent for most of the Q&A, then held his hand out for a mic and spoke up, telling the audience member something like, “In a way, you’re already doing it. You’re already writing. You’re already processing. I don’t think anyone knows what they’re setting out to write or how it will take shape until they do. But you’re already doing the hardest part.” Then, in a touching moment of connection, another audience member spoke up about a veteran writing group he’s involved with whose members seek to do exactly the same thing. The safe space the questioner was so dearly seeking did, in fact, already exist, and the people were there in that theatre to help guide him towards it. 

I didn’t think anything could have equaled my experience at AITAF’s 10th Anniversary show last year - and yet, last night was every bit as powerful of a performance, followed by a Q&A discussion in which audience members bared revelatory vulnerabilities and saw their own struggles through the eyes of others. My group went to a late dinner afterwards, where we continued discussing the performance, the dialogues thereafter, AITAF’s work in general, and (my favorite) gendered attitudes and embedded patriarchal norms within military settings and how AITAF challenges these norms even while being forced to work within them. 

It was an evening of connections of all types - between people, experiences, and insights. I can’t laud AITAF enough for enabling such valuable and productive exchange, and I hope to experience much more of their work in the future.

(And if performed with a showcase or even a side of Adam, that would be even better! <3)

Thanks so much for reading! : ))

[gh0sti3-writes]

MORE THAN JUST A JOB-CHAPTER 1

Word count: 3k+

Pairing: CEO!Baekhyun x Reader

Summary: Baekhyun is known as one of the sweetest, most caring CEO’s out there. Everyone in his company adores him and is completely loyal. But, a dark secret lurks under every bright smile.

Warnings: Profanity...That’s it.

Note: Not proofread. Inspired by that one twitter post.

DISCLAIMER: THIS WORK IS COMPLETELY FICTIOUS. BAEKHYUN IS A RESPECTIVE MEMBER OF EXO. ANY REFERENCE OR SIMILARITY TO REAL LIFE IS NOT INTENTIONAL. BE RESPECTFUL OF THE GROUP AND OF THE PEOPLE IN THE GROUP. THIS IS MY INTERPRETATION OF THEIR PERSONALITY IN THIS FICTIONAL SCENARIO.

“I told you already, I refuse to apply for a job that doesn’t even interest me!” I protested, as Jennie simply laughed and punched my shoulder gently.

“It’s fun in the company! You’re so qualified.”

“I’m not working under a man who forces his employees to call him Byunnie.” I joked, as she rolled her eyes.

“Look, we’re not forced to. He’s been looking for a secretary...For what? How long?” Jennie tapped her chin, and I shrugged.

“Seven months.” She smirked.

“I knew you would know it!” Jennie exclaimed proudly, as I facepalmed. “Look, you don’t have to work with us if you don’t want to. Buut, you’re so qualified. I know office jobs don’t interest you but he funds so many different projects that it’ll be fine! And if you work in marketing, you can work with me!” She tried to convince me, pushing further. I took a wistful bite of my sandwich, before shaking my head slowly.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Haha! See, you’re convinced.”

“No. I’m thinking.”

“I convinced you to think Y/N, I convinced you to think. That’s all that matters.” She said wisely, staring at the city bustling before us.

“Sure…” I smiled softly. Jennie was one of the most loyal workers under Mr. Byunnie I know. Ugh. Just saying that name makes a scowl appeared on my face. Byunnie was one of the richest CEOs in South Korea. CEO of a popular company that focuses on creative arts and new innovative projects. His company never interested me, but after he opened his secretary position right after I got fired from my old graphic designer job, it definitely became more appealing.

Jennie told me he was getting more and more desperate each day, but I think she just wants me to work there. She was always a little too clingy for my taste, but she still is one of my greatest friends.

But, her loyalty surprises me. How in the world could someone love their boss that much? Like, even my old boss was a close family friend. But some days I would have such a burning, burning anger flaming in my heart. Jennie isn’t stupid either.

I suppose me applying for the job was mostly out of fascination. Everyone loved Byunnie.

And, as the story goes, I walked into the office building holding files closely to my chest. Jennie finally pushed me to go see if he was still looking for a secretary, and I was running out of money to pay for rent and necessities.

I rubbed my arm uncomfortably, nervous as what’s to come. What if I just walked into a brainwashing facility?

A cold sweat ran over me, my brain jumping to the worst situations. Most of them were impossible, most of them were logical considering the amount of money he has. I finally pushed my last step to the front desk, as a woman with swirling brown eyes and black ringlets of hair smiled warmly at me. It made me feel, comforted? Comforted isn’t the right word...Just welcomed. Safe.

“Welcome to the B&Y Building! How may I help you today?” She questioned with an airy voice, her brown eyes scanning me intently. I stuttered, before clearing my throat and tightening the grip on my black blazer.

“I’m here looking for the position as an inter-I mean secretary. Uhm, if the position is open, I would like to apply, obviously.” I chuckled sheepishly. “If that’s alright.” My nerves bounced up and down, as I tried to hide my flushing cheeks due to my embarrassing request. The front desk lady laughed softly, before typing at her computer.

“Well, we have been terribly desperate for a new secretary. The interview is open as of now actually, or whenever you’re ready. If you don’t feel prepared, feel free to schedule an appointment anytime this week.” She explained, typing away. Her black fingernails gleamed in the sunlight that shone through the glass walls. I looked around, and then down at my watch. I nodded.

“I wouldn’t mind d-doing an interview now.” I responded, somewhat confidently. She grinned.

“Great! tenth floor, first room on the right.” She pointed to the elevator, and I nodded, jitterish for what was to come. I was immediately regretting my choices. Usually I would have more prep time, but my interest in this company was overwhelming. I steeled myself as I swung the glass door open. I entered into a glass room, minimalistic with not much. A black cup full of ballpoint pens, with ‘B&Y,’ carefully engraved. A desktop idle on the polished oak desk. The smell of leather and vanilla wafted through the air, as two black office chairs sat on either side.

I nervously slid into the black office chair, tinkering with the fabric of my bottoms, my mind traced over the objects hanging around the room. Abstract art pieces on the white walls, a glass wall that showed the city below. I heard the door open, and a man in a crisp suit with scraggly brown hair walked in. His eyes were sunken, as if he had gotten no rest. He was awfully skinny, but seemed too preoccupied in his paperwork to notice me. I cleared my throat, as he sat in his chair and he looked up at me.

“Oh! Hey there!” He greeted in his baritone voice that seemed to ring around me. He shuffled in his seat and nodded at me, before spreading out his mass papers. “My name is Kim.” He stretched out his hand, and I shook it hesitantly.

“Hi Kim.” I smiled at him.

“Please excuse, this.” He referenced to his face. “I’ve been awfully sick for a while now.”

“Ah! No worries, I didn’t even notice.” I lied.

But then again, who would? I notice everything there is to notice. From the cloud formations to each and every person on the train. The horns, the bird formations, even the smudged paint hidden discreetly with a plant in Jennie’s house. At the right angle, it’s definitely noticeable. I rubbed my hands together under the table, as he coughed slightly.

“Well, I assume you are here for an interview for the position of Byunnie’s secretary?” He flipped through some papers.

“Uhm...Yes. Yes I am.” I answered.

“Great! Any questions before we start?”

“Do...Do we have to call him Byunnie?”

“Well, it’s not required but he prefers it that way.” He chuckled. “It’s a bit of a silly name, I know.” I shook my head.

“No, no.”

“Don’t lie to me.” It was a little more aggressive, but it could’ve been my anxiety that was disorienting me. I nodded and smiled awkwardly. “Alright, since you didn’t schedule an appointment I’m afraid I’ll have to fill out your file right here and now. First, can I have your name?”

“Y/N L/N.” He typed away busily, bobbing his head a bit.

“Great. Can I ask for your age and birth date?”

“Y/A, Y/B/D.” He smiled.

“My sister was born that day too!” I laughed, warming up and getting more comfortable. The vanilla sweetness in the air and the spring sun seemed to wrap me in bundles of safety and comfort. “Anyways anyways, can I ask for your education? Your major in college and what college exactly?”

“Uhm...Well I was an art major. I focused mainly on digital and graphic design or illustration. I recently worked in an indie graphic design company. I went to college in Japan. University of Tokyo.” He nodded, typing it all down.

“Right right. Any ideas with business?”

“I minored in business. It was my first interest but the art program opens lots of opportunities”

“I heard they aren’t big on that type of art, how exactly did you-?”

“I bought online courses while taking the normal ones.” I explained, interrupting him. He smiled. The interview went on, slowly drifting onto what I can contribute towards the company. What makes me a good secretary, what can I handle and tolerate, what can I do. Just the basics with some more in depth questions that focused a lot on my creative aspects. I understood why he was beginning to ask more complex questions, this is a very wealthy company with lots of information.

If they hired the wrong person or let a bad employee slip into the midsts, then...Well it can go downhill. So, I didn’t mind it and answered as honestly, confidently, and charmingly as I could. Finally, about an hour or two later, I was free to leave.

“Thank you for meeting with me. This was great Ms. L/N, I’ll get to you in a week or so.” Kim grinned boyishly at me, as I nodded, shaking his hand.

“Yes. Thank you.” I left the building, getting ready for lunch with Jennie. She texted me during the meeting, wanting to hear all the details on the interview. I was gonna pop by my apartment. Change into clothes, enjoy myself to avoid staining one of my only good blazers.

I got into my apartment, texting Jennie I’ll be there in thirty.

That’s great! Can Byunnie come?

I almost spat out whatever fluids I had in my mouth, it was most likely saliva but the bitter taste of coffee was reminiscent so...Who knows?

Who in the world brings their boss to lunch? Isn’t he running a multi-billion company?

My hands were furiously typing as I was changing into high waisted jeans and a white, blousey crop top. I started to brush my hair down into whatever style I preferred, and slipping on black sneakers. I began to apply some accessories, as my phone dinged once again.

Well! He would love meeting the new secretary.

It’s not confirmed.

So! Pleeaaaase.

She sent me a crying emoji, and then a selfie with her and her boss. I sighed grumpily, blowing a strand of hair out of my face and grabbing my bag.

Fine, on my way.

I grabbed a few gulps of water before deciding to walk to our usual lunch place. The walk was scenic. Bright blue sky, birds flying around and about. The air was dust free for once, meaning the smell of flowers was flowing around with the slight breeze that danced around my body. The green trees rustled, as the heat was buzzing in my ears. I finally arrived at the spot, a nice tea house with lots of treats that they offered. It was aesthetically pleasing, a lot of girls and boys on Instagram could be spotted snapping photos.

I entered and found Jennie waving towards me, Byunnie sitting next to her. She smiled brightly, as I took a seat in front of her, next to Byunnie. Or...Diagonal. Or somewhat close but we were still at a comfortable angle to avoid tension. We were sitting in the nicer areas, gilded accents to accompany the white walls. Aerial plants potted in geometrical glass pots to accent the theme. Dried blue orchids as our centerpiece, with cushions to accompany us.

“Y/N! This is Byunnie, Byunnie, meet Y/N!” I met eyes with him, trying to understand him. But really all I could see was warmth. Bright, brown, swirling warmth. I tried to pry, understand him. But no, it was just...Inky. It was overwhelming, and I felt myself back down. His skin was completely free of blemish or scar, his silvery white hair swirled perfectly and trimmed to precisely frame his face without flaw. He was glowing, radiantly. Like...His skin was absolutely perfect.

His innocent look, chocolate eyes, and perfect hair caught me off guard. This was...Not what I was expecting. I finally realized he was greeting me, and my attention snapped back to him. He beamed at me, out-stretching his hand. I hesitantly took it, warmth spreading over my arm.

“Hi Y/N!” His voice was soft, angelic almost. He was the exact epitome of lovable. I felt my cheeks flush.

“I-Hi, hi...B-Byunnie?” I tested the name gingerly, trying to gauge if he would react. His grin seemed to grow wider.

“I see Jennie told you about my nickname.” He chuckled, nodding. “Yes, feel free to call me Byunnie. We might end up partners after all.” Jennie laughed.

“Might? No way. Y/N is not just a might. She’s for sure what this company is looking for!” She reclined into her chair.

“Jennie, please. Don’t be so kind. I’d rather earn the job then let other people gas me up.” I shuffled. I was trying to straighten myself but his angelic aura seemed to completely intimidate me and welcome me at the same time. He must be a great CEO. Being able to make my legs shake but a smile appear must be confusing for competitors of the company. However, I still felt queasy.

“I’m just being honest!” She wagged a finger in my face.

“Jennie, don’t worthy. Neither should you Y/N. I assure you, my mind isn’t so easily swayed.” He leaned forward, I leaned backwards. “Thank you for meeting with me and Jennie, I know it seems rush but I’m thankful that you accepted her invitation and everything.” He strummed his fingers against the white table. “It’s good to know who I may be working with.”

“See! This is gonna be great Y/N.” Jennie giggled. “Anyways, you guys ready to order?” She questioned. I nodded.

“Actually, I haven’t been to this place before. Y/N, any recommendations?” He questioned. I stared at him quizzically, startled. I realized he was actually regarding my existence, and I realized I should probably respond before he catches me continuing to stare.

“Oh! I...Don’t come here that often. If I do have to recommend anything…” I pointed at the tea section in his menu, reaching over. “Boba, taro. Ask for sixty percent ice and seventy percent sugar, that specific order gets you complimentary taro mochi. Then, for food order the turkey sandwich or a crepe cake, both are really good with taro. Just don’t get durian cake, it isn’t too good.” I instructed, pointing at the different selections.

“I know the secret menu.” Jennie winked at Byunnie and I.

“Jennie, of course you know the secret menu. You literally always get lunch here.” I deadpanned, moving away when I noticed the close proximity. He had the same vanilla scent as the interview room did, just sweeter and mixed with cologne. He also was wearing his usual crisp suit that I saw in the photos. He was usually styled less innocently, but paparazzi coverage isn’t always accurate. His black suit had no wrinkles, white buttons perfectly aligned. Taking in his character, it was almost admirable how absolutely stunning he was as a whole. I took back my hand and cleared my throat. “Of course, it’s entirely up to you.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Nah, taro boba and crepe cake it is!” I smiled proudly, knowing I influenced the choices of a multi-billionaire CEO. It kinda made my heart swell. After ordering, our food swiftly came. I always loved the reliable service that the tea shop offered. It was good for in and out orders, when I was rushing.

We ate our food with slight conversation. The interactions were clearly awkward, but I began to warm up and grow fond of Byunnie. Even over the course of one meal, he was easy to interact with and was kind. I understood why all of his employers enjoyed working with him, he was smart. Resourceful. Respectful. Funny, he could easily pass as your roommate in college who always did the dishes for you.

“So, Y/N. Do you have a partner?” He inquired, as I tapped my chin.

“Mm, no. The closest thing is Jennie and even then we still have our emotional distances.” I joked.

“The only distance is the one you made when you said you don’t like ice cream on pizza.” She retorted, as I scoffed.

“Dairy on pizza is disgusting and gross.”

“Cheese. Y/N. Cheese.” He cleared his throat, giggling a little at our sad excuse of a debate.

“So, no partners? I really assumed so. You seem so put together and you’re very pretty.” I laughed slightly at his compliment.

“Put together? You're the CEO of B&Y and you’re telling me I’m put together?” He nodded, as if it was a basic statement.

“Well, it’s really not too much of a compliment. I’m not god or anything, I just admire how...Easily you hold yourself together.” He grinned at me, his smile wide and sweet. Welcoming. Charming. Not just the smile of a CEO. The smile of a friend. I blushed.

“Why thank you Prince Charming. You’re too kind.” He nodded.

“Look at you Y/N! Getting that CEO ass!” I nearly spit out my drink, expecting Byunnie to yell at her or reprimand her for disrespecting him. But he simply high fived her and laughed boyishly.

“Jennie!” I hissed loudly.

“It was just a joke.” She teased.

“In the company, I consider all the employees family. So of course, comments that usually would throw most bosses off end up being completely normal.” I nodded, not accustomed to now loose and free he was. How in the world is he so successful if he is so easy? He just seemed like the type of person who would let you make your own work hours and pay you all the same.

“You seem...Odd.”

“In a good or bad way?” He joked, as I grinned.

“Good.”

Jennie called for the waitress who was serving us, as all of us whipped out our wallets.

“I’ll pay!” Jennie declared, proudly. I shook my head and slammed my wallet down.

“No! I WILL!”

“No! I SHALL PAY!” Byunnie shoved the money into the waitress’s hands, eyes gleaming. “Keep the change.” I burst out laughing, trying not to seem to informal but jesus. He was so extra, it was so damn amusing. He was so friendly, welcoming. Just everything you wanted in someone close to you. Honestly, because of this lunch I was beginning to want the position of secretary more and more. My eyes twinkled as I watched his mannerisms, his patient nodding, sparkling eyes, bright smile...Everything about him just screamed sunshine flying out of his ass.

He didn’t make people respect him, he made it seem like he deserved it. Who wouldn’t want to give him the world?

“It’s getting late, I should go home. Thank you for inviting me out.” I said respectfully, bowing my head as they nodded.

“No problem, feel free to come with us whenever. We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Byunnie laughed, as I nodded.

“Of course.”

I left, with a smile that I unconsciously placed on my face. I felt fuzzy, safe, comfortable. I felt like I could let everything go to him, send him memes at 3 AM, even rant about my hatred of ketchup. But...He would be my possible future boss. The thought of that made me tense, I really just had a date with my future boss.

Ugh, he’s not even my boss! And even then, I don’t know for sure, and...My mind blurred uncomfortably, as I suddenly began to feel sick. It wasn’t...Food poisoning, it felt more like, I was mortified. Something horrible just happened and I wanted to sit down. But I stumbled home, eyes blank as I could only push forward to my apartment. Why did I feel so...Weird? The fuzziness was replaced with static that swirled around my stomach and head, loudly ringing in my ears.

I shoved the keys into my door, swinging it open and quickly locking it shut. I slowly stumbled into my bed, and felt my body sink in. I didn’t even have time to think about today, as I passed out immediately.

----------

When I woke up, I felt better. Completely refreshed and invigorated, like someone just pounded a bunch of vitamin c into my face and threw me into a warm bath. Like the gods above shoved immortality down my throat. I quickly washed my face of residue products from yesterday, and changed into more comfortable clothes. High waisted shorts and a tie-dye shirt. I put my hair back, and went to my computer to see if I got any emails.

I scrolled through some spam lazily, deleting and cleaning out emails from my babe, a Nigerian Prince offering one million. I chuckled at the cheap scams, before eyeing a new email from B&Y. My cursor hovered over the email, as I felt my throat grow dry. I trembled slightly, as I scanned through the big fancy words and colorful designs.

Finally, I saw the words.

“We are proud to tell you that you have been chosen as Byunnie’s secretary. Please come in at 6 AM tomorrow to get details and get you adjusted.” I squealed to myself, giggling like a child as I sent a text to Jennie.

JenJen! Guess who’s gonna be the new secretary?

BIIITCH.

I’m serious omg.

Congrats!!! Omg I’m crying in the library. Good job!!!

Still working on your masters?

Duhhhh, gotta figure my life out one day haha.

Lolololol

I put down my phone, clutching it tightly. For some reason I wanted to thank Byunnie so bad, tell him grateful I am. But, that wasn’t what people do. I needed to get a grip. This is a job, this is just a job. This is just a job that gives me the position of secretary under the CEO of B&Y.

Fuck.

If only I knew, if only I fucking knew.

This would be more than just a job.

[floridastorytime]

Hello! My name is Kiersten and this is my new blog, which I’ve been planning on making for a good while. I’m Floridian and go to a very chaotic art school, and I have countless stories most people don’t believe happened. So I figured I’d get something out of the way before posting...

All of these stories are true in their entirety. I don’t exaggerate to make them more interesting, and if I don’t remember exact dialogue I will say so before writing a conversation from memory. Some stories are longer than others. Some are only a sentence or two, some are full essays. The one attached to this will be a longer one, though not the longest. I usually have photographic evidence to validate the honesty of these, which will be added.

This is one of the stories I’ve had typed up for a while, and one of the most legendary stories I have and I probably ever will have, even though I now have an account dedicated to them. I think it’s a great way to start things off.

STORY 1- WASP MURDER

When I was going into eighth grade, I went to an art camp during the summer. I had to get up at seven, which I found cruel up until I got into high school and was expected to wake up at five in the morning, I really took getting up after the sun rises for granted. That aside, camp was sort of fun. Every day I’d have several classes in different classrooms like any middle or high school, but each of them was a different sort of art. There was one where we worked on photoshop (I retained absolutely no skills from it. I had to re-learn it when I took digital art in high school), one where we did sculpting, one with traditional drawing, and finally one with photography which is where our story takes place.

The photography teacher was your typical “middle aged pudgy no-nonsense woman who wears khakis and strapped sandals” type. Keep those sandals in mind, they’ll be important later. We were in a room that was almost completely empty, save for a table covered in props made of cardboard and a few novelty hats, glasses and masks. The room was so well-lit by the massive windows which gave us a perfect view of the blue summer sky outside that there was no need to turn the overhead lights on. Our instructions were to take pictures of each other wearing or holding the props. I don’t remember what cameras we used but I do know that there was a whole old-fashioned darkroom to develop the photos we had to learn how to use. But we spent a quarter of the day taking these pictures.

Now, I should mention that there was a large vent in the room which hung from the ceiling and went down low enough that most of us were too tall to stand under it without hitting our heads. And apparently that vent, which happened to be completely exposed to the outside, made a great door and hallway for wasps to enter the room.

I’ve had friends from other countries tell me our wasps are nothing like theirs, and are absolutely terrified of them. Florida wasps really do fit the role of ‘satan’s butterflies’. They’re vengeful sons of bitches who will sting you multiple times in one place when one sting was definitely enough. They’ll chase you if you get close to them when they’re angry, and they’re always angry. They even LOOK evil, seriously, is it me or do they have all the physical traits of something designed to be a mortal servant of the antichrist? They’re red and yellow and have long, pointy legs with no fuzz like other wasps, just a hard pointy exoskeleton without a trace of warmth or feeling. They came from hell and want to make the world above it even worse than hell. When the teacher was explaining a task to us while we were gathered in a disorganized half circle before her, I was angled so that I was the only one who saw a single wasp fly out of the vent. It came out slowly and deliberately. I did nothing but watch in horror as it approached us, since I knew if I pointed it out to everyone there would be a group panic attack. But in hindsight, maybe I should have told them. Because it came up behind a girl who was adjusting her ponytail and landed on one of her hands. She was the last one to notice, and she only did because she saw everyone staring at her wide-eyed with terrified fascination. Then she felt the wasp on her hand, and she let out a scream I’m sure was heard three classrooms away.

Years later, I suspect that scream was what wrought on the sudden burst of anarchy that made up the next few minutes. Kids were dashing around the classroom to avoid it, some were echoing the poor girl’s screams, and I had pressed my back against the wall in a “it might kill me but at least I’ll see it coming” fashion. I could see the wasp darting around the scene, either finding a target or surveying the damage. It flew freely around... until that teacher decided she’s had enough. With all the confidence of an experienced swordsman, she took off one of her beige strap sandals and threw it at the wasp, which was a direct hit. It fell to the ground, and everyone just stopped in complete awe, staring at this woman who’d just took out this menace with a single blow from the most ridiculous weapon imaginable. It didn’t move after the first strike. I wasn’t positive whether it was properly slain or just stunned, but she didn’t take any chances and crushed it with the sandal she still wore like I’d imagine a hero posing on a hill of bones would crush a skull beneath their foot. Everyone was speechless for a moment, then we reluctantly went back into the lecture while trying to act like this unassuming woman didn’t just completely eradicate what had sparked blind panic among them a moment ago. I really hope some of those kids remember it.

Here are some pictures from it, in the room this took place in. I didn’t know these people at all, and we didn’t bond enough to keep in touch. I’m the one in the hat(first), doing finger guns(second), and standing in the middle(third).