#for everything it feels like ALW was not in the chat

[sweet-dining-car]

ANDREW IF YOU’RE STILL WITH US AND YOUR PRODUCTION GIVE US A SIGN

🕯 🕯

🕯 🕯

🕯 🕯

[brookitty]

Okay sooo let's get this straight. Marinette, along with others, withholding information from Adrien about HIS life is WRONG. The show knows this.

S2, Syren: Chat Noir is upset that Ladybug is keeping secrets from him (about Master Fu). This is resolved bc Chat Noir is granted an introduction with Master Fu.

S3, Chameleon: Adrien tells Lila he is happy to be her friend, on one condition, she doesn't lie to him.

S3, Backwarder: Marinette and her friends debate on how Marinette should interject herself between Adrien and Kagami. Someone suggests she disguise herself as a celebrity to woo Adrien, but the idea is shot down bc "Adrien hates lying"

S3, Puppeteer 2: Chat Noir tells Ladybug that the more important something is, is precisely more the reason you have to say it. No matter what.

S4, Lies: Adrien is personally very hurt and guilt ridden when Kagami accuses him of being untruthful.

S4, Rocketear: Adrien is upset that Ladybug allowed for Alya and Nino to know eachother's identity bc it contradicts everything she has told him thus far.

S4, Hack-San: Adrien is beyond angry and betrayed that Ladybug would lend her Miraculous to someone and not inform him on it before hand.

S4, Ephemeral: Adrien confesses how heavy of a weight his secret identity has been on him. As well as feeling like he has been dishonest with Ladybug.

S4, Kuro Neko: Adrien questions his identity and is unsure who his authentic self is. This causes him some distress until Plagg provides him with a satisfying answer. He is both Adrien and Chat Noir, therefore, he is not being inauthentic.

S4, Strikeback: Adrien is upset that Ladybug had kept Rena Furtive a secret from him. Ladybug realizes that, although she meant well, she had been keeping Chat Noir out of the loop and it was wrong. ** She realizes this with Chat Noir not Adrien.

S5, Jubilation: Both Ladybug and Chat Noir are upset after having lost their marriage and four children. Chat Noir is noticeably more enraged than Ladybug. He goes on to emphasize his contempt for having his feelings played with. He attempts to kill Darker Owl.

S5, Passion: Marinette asks Adrien if he is alright. He says that's he's fine, but then decides to tell Marinette the truth that he is worried about Natalie.

S5, Elation: Chat Noir feels wrong for kissing Marinette bc he knows who she is, but she doesn't know who he is. He feels that he is taking advantage of her unawareness (him being Adrien). It's dishonest.

S5, Emotion: Adrien tells Marinette that he couldn't tell her about the Diamond Dance bc his father had ordered him not to. This admission comes from Adrien without Marinette having to ask him.

S5, Revolution: Adrien is tormented with guilt about not telling Marinette about him moving to London. Although, last minute, Adrien is able to work up the courage to tell Marinette before Chloé could.

Miraculous: Rise of the Sphinx, the video game: Adrien's character bio in Marinette's scrapbook includes his likes and dislikes. His like...... Ladybug, of course. His dislike........ dishonesty. Marinette's bio in comparison states she dislikes, "bullies and liars". Which I think is a compelling difference. Adrien doesn't just dislike liars; he dislikes dishonesty.

Dishonesty is a much more broad and grey area than lying. It's why Adrien is uncomfortable with secret identities. It's why he feels uneasy about his own identity as Chat Noir. It's why he was so upset over Ladybug allowing Alya and Nino to know eachothers identities. Ladybug didn't lie to him, but she was being dishonest. It's also why he didn't feel comfortable pursuing a relationship with Marinette as Chat Noir because it would be dishonest. He recognized that he held information on her (as her classmate and friend) that she did not willingly give him. It would not only be unfair, but dishonest.

This characteristic of Adrien's isn't some fandom conceived trait. It's been a very prominent feature of who Adrien is as a person throughout the entire series. There has always been a very strong narrative regarding Adrien's dislike for secrets, lies, illusions, disingenuinity, dishonesty...

The finale was NOT the show justifying Gabriel's actions nor the lie Adrien was told about his father's role.

The way I see it is that because Adrien is the deuterogonist of the show his discovery of all these secrets can not be fully resolved in ONE season finale. Now that the Monarch situation has been dealt with. Now that the kwamis have been rescued. Now that Marinette is dating Adrien. There really isn't any other conflict our protagonist has other than the secret she is withholding from the boy she loves. The writers of Miraculous get a lot of undeserved flak in my opinion. I trust them, and I trust the direction of the story.

Ideally, I would hope this conclusion is meant to lead into an Adrien focused season 6. I would hope that ultimately Marinette will come forward and tell Adrien herself. However, I understand before we get there we're gonna need to marinate in this icky resolution for the sake of drama. It is a show after all, we're here to be entertained.

[regrettablewritings]

DJ X READER HEADCANON you pick 😉😉

I blink at the request that stares back at me from my inbox, brow furrowing with every flutter of my lashes. "Sis . . ." I murmur, "you good?" As though my ass had not also been search for content relating to this forgotten POS just the other day. But if you insist . . .

4. What they do on date night:

To be brutally honest, DJ will look you dead in the eye and tell you that going for a night out on the town pick-pocketing is a date. Or, at least, he will try to. It's surprisingly hard to maintain eye contact with someone whose glare could probably cut beskar.

In his defense (if he even deserves any), DJ does try to make it a little more fun than he already finds it -- granted, it's done in a very DJ way. You get your little evening promenade through the streets, he tricks you to a quick bite to eat, you hold hands and run through the lantern-speckled streets before turning down a narrow alleyway that's just perfect for sharing an intense liplock . . .

Of course, this all translates into your evening together including: Walking through a marketplace, your asshole boyfriend slipping peoples' credits out of their pockets and purses under the guise of bumping into them; him using those sticky fingers of his to nick some street food off of a cart before its proprietor called the authorities on his theft; said sticky fingers lacing with yours as he guides you down the crowded streets (grinning like the little shit he was for enjoying the chase); all before making a sudden jerk down an alleyway.

You're breathless, irritated, and . . . maybe -- only just maybe -- a little excited by the thrill of it all. But you can't let him know that, otherwise, he'd never let you live it down and he'd be the cock of the goddamn walk for who knows how long. Worse: He'd consider this a win for his insistence that this sort of thing counted as a date! And there was no way in hell you were about to let that happen!

You only got as far as opening your mouth to hiss own some choice words at him when you instead got cut off by your thieving significant other pressing you against the grubby alley wall. Even if you hadn't been distracted by the action to remember to cuss him out, the words were instantly killed. They were inhaled by his own lips, his kiss encompassing your words, your thoughts, your . . . everything. They were speared by his tongue, as though it were his weapon against the beast that brewed within you.

And they were quelled by the feel of his callused fingers brushing against your cheeks before moving onward to the beck of your head, pressing you only further into his hold. DJ's fingers were deft, but that didn't necessarily mean that their carefulness was always directed at you. It's . . . something to savor . . .

Of course, it was meant to fool the chumps following the both of you but you don't mind. Not in that moment anyway. When you get back to wherever you're staying for the night, it's another story, but one DJ is more than happy to bring to a happy ending.

It's a bit nicer when he gets his hands one someone's credits, though: It means he can take you out to an actual establishment. However, be warned: It's only a bit nicer because you also need to be on the lookout for the authorities (or the poor bastard you stole from), or be prepared to make a run for it.

11. What their first impression was of each other:

Dirty. Old. Bastard. A dirty old bastard. And to your credit, you weren't wrong, but of course, the first impression is always the shallowest. And considering the shithead had just tried to put the moves on you when you were already having a rough day . . . Yeah, he honestly deserved presumptions with the depth of one's own navel -- an outie, preferably.

He stood out against the Canto Bight elite with his grubbiness, looking like a leathery garbage pouch at best and like a guy who'd try to sell you a faulty droid at moderate. A dirty, bastardly part of you couldn't help but muse that perhaps the worst he could do was be a nasty lay -- and not nasty in the way one might want, either.

Granted, it wasn't hard to imagine that: The fact he was hitting on you while you were trying your best to just survive your shift at the casino that evening did little to convince you he was any good.

And as for DJ, it was a one-two-punch type of introduction. Literally: First he eyed you, then he got a little too suggestive, and then you punched him. What a sleazeball, right? It was his own damn fault for assuming the least of you, though. You were cute like all the other servers, no doubt, with that shy smile of yours that made it abundantly clear to him that this sort of place wasn't your scene if you didn't have to work there. Unlike the other servers, however, he was feeling pretty brazen about you.

DJ has no interest in the concept of “fate” or “destined meetings”, but even months out from that point he wouldn’t be able to place precisely what compelled him to break his usual protocol of being discreet. Nor why he was so insistent. All he knows was that he called you over to him and, rather than requesting a drink, he “chatted you up”. And might’ve suggested that you two blow off this place and maybe “blow off somewhere else”.

He also knows that the moment you struck his cheek, cheeks burning and eyes widened with the realization of what you’d done, he was wrong and right about you.

You were frankly lucky he turned out to be a blight on the Canto Bight scene, otherwise your boss would’ve fired you the moment he had learned of what you had done. What you were unlucky for, however, was that from then on, the thief started showing up more often. Not enough to get caught (at least, not for long), but enough for him to determine that maybe the both of you really should blow this joint -- in the nonsexual way.

And in the end, you became unlucky once more: For someone so grubby and bastardly, he was also quite the charmer. Y’know, once you’ve smacked him around a bit.

14. What nicknames they call each other:

You honestly struggle to nickname DJ, predominately because, well, DJ is already a nickname. You think. After all, you sincerely doubt anyone would actually name their kid Don’t Join even as a political statement. Really, the fact you don’t know his actual name sort of calls for consideration of how healthy your obviously unhealthy relationship is. But any pleas to learn this asshole’s real name just winds up being like having a namana cream pie shoved in your face, because DJ just turns it all into a joke.

There have been many occasions where DJ would tell you different names he would swear were his own -- often times in the same week! Other times, his claim would be that he’s told you it while you were asleep, or that he once told you but you got conked on the head and forgot it.

Interestingly enough, it’s through these juvenile exploits that he’s earned a bit of a nickname from you: “Bastard”. Just rolls off the tongue, don’t it? To be fair, though, you’re with him for a reason: Even if he may not seem like it, he does have a soft sport for you. Even if it comes out about as smoothly as his features.

In a way, he reminds you of a mutt. A stray mutt. Especially when he shoves his head into your lap after a long day of fucking about and being a menace to whatever society you two decided to hop a ship to.

“You’re like a puppy sometimes, you know that?” you murmur. You scritch into his mess of hair, earning a low growl of contentment from your datemate. He never had to admit it out loud, but your touch clearly did wonders to him. This was evidence by how his already large body began to further sprawl along the couch the ship he’d stolen came with. Yup; just like a puppy. A big, raggedy puppy. Who needs a trip to the refresher as soon as this scritching session was over.

For DJ, on the other hand, nicknames come easily. Honestly, it’s mainly due to how he barely takes anyone or anything seriously: When you don’t concern yourself with all the muddled nonsense of society or wide circles of people, it becomes a whole lot easier to see everyone’s buttons. And considering he was a master slicer, button-pressing was definitely his thing.

Despite the fact that you were a one-in-a-million instance of being someone whom the thief actually trusted and treated with even a modicum of respect, even you weren’t immune to his acts of mockery.

“Mornin’, P-p-pipsqueak,” he’d smirk over a cup of caff, knowing damn well that his advantage of height bothered you sometimes.

“Ea-asy there, k-kitten,” he’d purr whenever your frustration would come boiling to the brim. Things like that.

“Lookie here, dollface,” when he wants to butter you up without losing his stance.

But that doesn’t mean he’s unable to be more affectionate. It’s in there, it’s just . . . in there. The best examples, however, tend to be when the both of you are having downtime and are actually safe somewhere. Or whatever safe could mean when you’re with DJ.

Generally, a jail cell wouldn’t be considered safe. Maybe not unsafe if the only occupants were your boyfriend of ill repute and yourself, but it certainly wasn’t enjoyable. And yet, the way DJ just seemed to laze about in them made you feel unnaturally calm. Well, calmer. It would’ve been nicer if your more-than-capable boyfriend would put those slicing skills of his to use and just busted the both of you out of there, but to DJ, a night in the clink meant at least a few hours of shut eye on a bed.

“B-bes-s-sides: We can alw-w-ways just grab on-e of those f-f-f-floating citadels they g-g-g-got docked out there,” he would reason, making himself comfy on the thin mattress. He had a point, you supposed. And it wasn’t as though you hadn’t been expecting this as a part of your life once you got together with him. Still, you weren’t entirely comfortable joining him on said mattress . . . Maker knows when it had last been washed!

You would be far from the first to consider DJ to be the most observant person, dating or not, but your concern must’ve been rich enough for him to practically sense it: Without hesitating, he sat up just enough to offer you his hand.

“C-come on,” he said. “I need to c-c-c-catch some shut e-e-eye, and it ain’t hap-p-p-penin’ if you’re standing d-d-down there the entire t-time.”

A feeling of mild dread seeped into you, followed by a wet blanket of acceptance. You were going to just spend an hour in the refresher of whatever ship you swept off with. Sighing, you accepted the hand, only for the hold to pull you up not onto the mattress, but directly on top of him!

There was plenty to react to -- the sudden movement, the feeling of being on top of DJ -- but the man himself didn’t seem at all fazed. Instead, he focused primarily on tucking in whatever lagging limbs you had and making sure he was cozy enough to continue serving as your mattress for however many hours he needed to recuperate. Which he apparently was: Not once did he protest to your weight pressing down on him, nor did he grunt with displeasure whenever you turned the direction of your head against his chest.

At the most, he only ever offered your back a brief circle of rubbing with his free hand, the other serving as his pillow, before uttering a drowsy, “You good there, kid?”

And, to your surprise . . . yeah. In spite of everything, yeah, you were pretty good . . .

And yet, interestingly enough, no matter what he calls you, none of that ever measures up to when he calls you by your name. Not pipsqueak, not kitten, not dollface or kid or whatever, but your actual name. Because DJ hardly ever refers to anyone by their actual title, let alone cares to remember it. By not only remembering it, but applying it, it shows you that he does care. It’s deep down -- like, real in there -- but it’s there. And you’re the only non-slicing being in the entire galaxy to have ever cracked that sort of safe.

Wear that badge with pride, Hotshot.

Thanks for your patience on this one! Clearly I had a lot of fun writing it! 💖 💖 . . . May gotta actually start writing for DJ. Maybe.

[mymoonagedaydream]

Only the Good Die Young (Part 2)

Summary: Angry and terrified, you were just glad to have Bucky looking out for you- even if you weren’t sure how long that would last

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, implied smut, anti-religious sentiment throughout, harmful relationship with parents, smoking, panic attacks, some offence may be caused to people who enjoy economics

Author's Note: Who doesn't love a sequel? Maybe even a cheeky little series... This one is heavily influenced by 'Vienna', but I sprinkled in ‘The Longest Time’ too. This whole Billy Joel thing might’ve gotten on top of me a little...

---

Bucky’s bike shuddered to a stop outside an old, dilapidated apartment building. The cold air was deep in your bones and your arms felt like they were frozen in place around his waist. As soon as the engine died he jumped up and spun round, holding your head in his hands and rapidly scanning his eyes over your face and arms.

‘You alright? They didn’t hurt you did they?’ You gave him a reassuring smile and shook your head, prompting him to drop his hands down to your bare shoulders. ‘Man you’re freezing, c’mon let’s get inside.’ 

You let him wrap his leather jacket around your shoulders and guide you to the door. As you climbed the stairs your phone buzzed in your pocket, but you ignored it- even if it wasn’t your parents, you weren’t exactly in the mood for chatting. 

Bucky unlocked a grubby door and you followed him through it. His apartment was sparsely decorated and a little messy, but you’d take anything over shag carpets and crucifixes on every wall. He kicked an old pair of trainers out the way of the door and muttered something about how he would’ve tidied if he knew you were coming. You smiled up at him, just happy to be somewhere safe and peaceful.

Your phone buzzed again, more sporadically. Must’ve been a flurry of texts. Bucky heard the vibrations and stopped frantically tidying, his eyes moving down to your pocket and filling with concern. 

‘That them?’

You shrugged feebly and reached for it, feeling your whole body tense up when you started reading the string of messages from your mother.

Answer the phone now

You’ve chosen a criminal over your own family

If you don’t come back now that’s it, no more support

This is your last chance

Your heart started pounding and you struggled to catch your breath. A sudden, sharp pain shot through your chest, making you feel dizzy as you began trying to frantically pull air into your tightening lungs. 

Bucky pulled you over to the sofa, sitting you down and encouraging you to take deep breaths, your eyes still glued to the screen. More and more messages were coming through, only interrupted by the occasional phone call that you sent straight to voicemail. You felt him softly stroking your back, his other hand moving towards the device clamped between your whitening knuckles.

‘Maybe you should just take the phone off the hook, disappear for a while.’ He gently tugged it from your hands, feeling your slight resistance. ‘It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two.’

You nodded, wiping a tear off your cheek. Bucky switched the phone off and pushed it to the far side of the coffee table, keeping his eyes fixed on you. You knew he was right- staring at your phone like that was just another way of letting your parents get to you. How the hell did he always know exactly what to say?

He scooched closer and pulled you into him, leaning the two of you back into the sofa cushions. You were still making an effort to maintain controlled, deep breaths, but the rest of your panic was offset by the overwhelming safety you felt being wrapped in his arms. 

Completely exhausted, it was only a few minutes before you started nodding off. 

You were so grateful that your abiding memory of one of the most terrifying days of your life was soft fingers running through your hair and the faint smell of cigarettes.

---

Loud banging jolted you awake. 

Your eyes flickered open and you looked over to see Bucky standing by the window, one hand braced against the glass, staring intently at something below him. 

‘There’s cops outside.’ 

Banging again. 

You were still trying to figure out whether you were awake or dreaming. He folded his arms and turned to face you, the complete lack of concern on his face making you feel a little better.

‘They’ve been down there for a couple minutes already.’ He chuckled. ‘We should probably go see what they want.’

Bucky opened the front door and you saw three officers waiting outside- one right on the doorstep, one a bit further back and another leaning against a marked car parked on the road.  

‘Are you y/n?’ The closest piped up as soon as you appeared in the doorway.

‘Yes, why?’

‘Your parents have reported you as kidnapped, they gave us his name.’ The officer glanced over to your companion, looking remarkably unimpressed. ‘James.’

‘Hi Terry.’ Bucky grinned, folding his arms and leaning against the opened door. 

You were in complete disbelief, quickly trying to string together some kind of response whilst bracing yourself for being tasered and tackled to the ground. 

‘I’ve not been kidnapped.’ Well that definitely wasn’t high on your list of sentences you expected to say today. ‘I’m sorry, my parents have wasted your time.’ 

Terry’s eyes darted between you and the suspect, looking as though he was trying desperately to find something amiss. After an uncomfortably long silence he eventually drew a blank, nodded and apologised. You heard a gruff chuckle next to you.

‘Stockholm syndrome, officer. Ain’t it a bitch.’ Bucky remarked through a smug smile. 

The cops piled into their car and the two of you traipsed back upstairs. As you properly registered what had happened, you felt anger brewing in your chest. Jesus, did your parents really think everything would just go back to normal if they got him arrested? Even for them that was absolute madness. 

When you got into the apartment you slammed the door behind you, prompting him to spin round.

‘I can’t believe they did that.’ 

‘Really? I sorta can.’ He chuckled.

You looked up at him, clutching your forehead in exasperation and letting a hot tear fall onto your cheek. ‘I’m really sorry Bucky, I didn’t mean to drag you into this shit.’

‘Woah, woah. Please don’t cry.’ He pleaded softly, placing his hands on your shoulders. ‘I hate it when people cry. I never know what to do.’ 

You let out a trembling laugh at the panic in his voice, wiping your face and forcing a feeble smile. He pulled you into a tight hug and pressed a kiss into your forehead. Unable to hold back your tears, you buried your face deep in the crook of his neck in an attempt to hide them.

Any adrenaline you’d built up from your high-stakes escape had long worn off, now you just felt deflated. Admittedly you were a little scared too, after all you’d only known Bucky properly for a week and here you were basically moving in together.

‘We should get out of town for a while, let tempers settle a bit.’ He whispered. ‘I know a place we can stay.’

---

After getting you properly kitted out with a warm jacket and helmet, Bucky packed himself a few days worth of white t-shirts and underwear. Following him to the door, you glanced over at your phone and hesitated, debating whether or not to grab it. 

‘Let them worry.’ He whispered, wrapping his hand around your wrist and leading you out.

You drove for an hour or so, the warmth from Bucky and the steady vibrations of the bike soothing you into a tranquil relaxation. Your eyes surveyed the scenery whizzing past, watching the suburban landscape fall away, replaced by huge expanses of grass dotted with trees and the occasional old farm building.

He pulled off down a gravel side road, eventually reaching a small campsite. A couple tents were pitched, most of them inhabited by parents with miserable-looking children, all of whom expressed great distaste at the volume of the motorbike. When it finally stopped, you lifted your head and surveyed your accommodation for the next few days.

A trailer. If only your dad were here, his face would be an absolute picture.

You really didn’t mind though, it looked pretty cosy and you weren’t exactly in a position to turn anything down. 

‘Sorry it’s not much.’ Bucky smiled as he helped you off the bike and unlocked the door.

‘It’s great, Buck.’

You threw your stuff down in the bedroom before flopping on the sofa. Bucky opened up the fridge and offered you a beer, looking faintly shocked when you accepted and took a sizable gulp. He sat himself down next to you and ran his eyes over your face, frowning at your distant expression.

‘You good?’

‘Just thinking, trying to figure out how the hell I’m gonna solve all this.’ You sighed, taking another swig from your bottle.

‘What's the hurry about?’ He lifted his feet to rest them on the table. ‘You're so ahead of yourself, seems like sometimes you forget what you need.’

You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as he casually took a drink and stared out of the window, as if he hadn’t just come up with some of the most insightful shit you’d ever heard.

‘How are you so good at this, Buck? How do you know exactly what to say and do all the time?’

‘Y’know.’ He shrugged. ‘Parents suck, been there myself. Yours are too invested in your life, mine were the opposite I guess.’ 

Thinking on it, you did remember a couple incidents from school- Bucky having to sit out gym class cause he didn’t have a kit or getting picked on for wearing the same clothes for a week straight. You started to feel a little guilty, you always just assumed he was lazy or forgetful. 

There was probably much more to it, but you got the impression he didn’t want to talk about it so you swiftly moved on.

‘Thanks, by the way. You didn’t have to do all this for me. I mean we barely even know each other.’

‘We went to school together for like ten years.’ He laughed, nudging you with his elbow.

You gave him a cynical look. ‘Yeah, but we actually spoke maybe three times?’

‘You knew I always had a bit of a crush on you though, right?’ You snapped your head towards him in complete shock. ‘Oh c’mon, I wasn’t exactly subtle about it.’

‘I think you fucking were.’

‘Well you always hung around those weird Christian kids so I never made a move or anything, but I knew there was something different about you. Something in your eyes.’ He grinned. ‘Itching for rebellion.’

You burst out laughing, nodding at his analysis- here you were living in his bloody trailer, he was obviously right. 

‘There’s a grill outside.’ He finished his beer and jumped up. ‘I’m gonna make some hotdogs.’ 

‘The only food we’ve ever eaten together is hotdogs.’ You chuckled, leaning your head to the side.

‘We’re livin’ like trailer trash so we gotta eat like trailer trash, sweetheart.’

---

It was a warm evening. You lay back on the grass outside the trailer, staring up at the starry, cloud-dusted sky, taking the opportunity to decompress your mind after the last few days. You never imagined it was possible to pack so many intense, conflicting emotions into such a short space of time.

You heard Buck move over from where he was cleaning the grill, laying himself down next to you. He was close by, but not quite touching. You got the impression that he was worried about overstepping your boundaries but, while you really appreciated how considerate he was, all you wanted at that moment was to curl up in his arms. 

He turned his head towards you. ‘What is it you do at college?’

‘Economics.’ You felt your eyes glazing over as you replied, Christ you hated it.

‘Was that your choice?’

‘What do you think?’ 

You decided that closing the gap yourself would be the easiest option, saving him some internal conflict. You rolled onto your stomach and moved your shoulders over him, resting your head on his chest. He smiled as you heard the thumping in his chest quicken slightly. 

Once you were settled on him, you added ‘I wanted to study literature, but my dad said that a degree in being able to read wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on.’ 

He brushed his hand across your hair, humming gently. ‘And what did your dad want you to do with this thrilling economics degree?’

‘No idea. But if I had to guess I’d say college, job, marry, kids, retire, die. The first four probably within the next few years.’

Bucky let out a surprised laugh. ‘Jesus. You barked that out like a well-trained dog.’ 

You feigned outrage and smacked him on the shoulder, causing him to grab your hand. He squeezed it and brought it to his mouth, pressing his lips gently against your fingers. Glancing down, he noticed you looking a little distant again.

‘Trust me, you're doing fine.’ He placed your hand back on his shoulder. ‘You can't be everything you want to be before your time.’

‘It’s not that, it’s just… my dad wanted a secure life for me, sometimes I think it was wrong how much I resented him for it.’

‘That’s the thing about you.’ He put a hand behind his head and craned it up to catch your eyes. ‘You can see when you're wrong, but you can't always see when you're right.’

‘Well they say opposites attract, James.’ You gave him a cheeky grin, raising your eyebrows in response to his outraged expression.

‘C’mere.’ He growled, flipping onto his side and grabbing your waist, pulling you towards him whilst you playfully resisted. 

You eventually relaxed, letting him hold you flush against his chest, one of his arms underneath you circling your waist and the other resting lightly on the side of your face. Both your hands were fiddling with the jersey fabric of his t-shirt in an attempt to soothe your jittering nerves. When you went to adjust yourself, you realised that your leg was hiked up over him, your inner thigh resting on his hip.

‘You shouldn’t go back if you hate it.’ He whispered. 

You raised your eyebrows, suspecting that your wellbeing wasn’t his only motive for suggesting that. 

He continued through a faint smile, ‘and, y’know, maybe I'll be sorry when you're gone.’  

‘Finally we get down to a confession?’

‘Well the way I see it, doll-face, you can get what you want or you can just get old.’ He swiftly flipped you onto your back, causing you to yelp faintly through a surprised laugh. You felt his body pressed on top of yours, his face hovering just a few centimetres away. ‘Besides, I’ve been a fool for lesser things.’

You moved your arms to circle his neck, feeling your stomach tremble as his grin grew wider. His gaze flickered down to your lips, brushing his thumb over them gently before lowering his face and locking you into a passionate kiss.

You adjusted your legs so that your thighs were squeezing his waist. His hand reached down to grab one of them, squeezing it firmly. He caught your faint moan in his mouth and chuckled in response, sliding his other hand underneath your shirt. His skin was cold as hell but it felt incredible, like faint electricity was passing between his skin and yours.

There on the grass, underneath the stars and the bright glow of the moon, you and Bucky slept together for the first time. 

Everything that’d happened, all the confusing emotions of the past few days, completely melted from your mind. For the first time in your life you felt completely free and completely loved. 

Christ, you hoped he’d still feel the same in the morning.

---

Part Three

---

[phantomnostalgist]

Back when ALW gave me nightmares

Just spent half an hour scrolling through my old LJ dream tag, where I was sure I’d written up at least two old dreams I had where Andrew Lloyd Webber was pursuing me with automatic weaponry. In one of them, he’d jumped out of a huge cake, in a department store in Tokyo. In both of them, he had a lot of scary guns and was trying to kill me. 

I couldn’t find those, but I did find dreams where ALW was trying to sue me for libel, and where he asked me to marry him. 

Not exactly the kind of nostalgia I was intending to post when I started this blog, but they’re making me ROTFL so... As a taster, “I was really angry and told ALW that he was a hack who Gaston Leroux would roast over the open flames of hell”...

Entries from my old (2007/2008) dream journal below.

Andrew Lloyd Webber sues me for libel

May. 22nd, 2007 at 10:44 PM

I dreamt that Andrew Lloyd Webber was suing me for libelling him on the internets, only the letter summoning me to court had gone to my parents' address, and they'd lost it, so I didn't know exactly what he was saying I'd said. I had to prepare my defense but I wouldn't know until I got there what I had to defend myself against. I was sure it was something to do with Phantom, and was calling antiquarian booksellers in search of some extremely rare book which explained which bits Leroux really meant were true and which bits he made up. Then when I got to the hearing, the lawyer read out what it was I was being sued over, and it was a diary entry I'd written (in dream-reality) when I was 19 in which I was talking about how I thought I was more intelligent than most people. I stood up and WTFed and said that was a matter of opinion, not fact, and therefore couldn't possibly count as libel. For some reason I didn't think of pointing out that it wasn't anything to do with Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Then it turned out it wasn't really Andrew Lloyd Webber who was trying to sue me after all, it was his daughter. They were both really pissed off that my sister had told me things that ALW's daughter had told her in confidence. I was really angry and told ALW that he was a hack who Gaston Leroux would roast over the open flames of hell, and that they were messing with the wrong person since my sister was a lawyer now.

It was all very strange. I think it came from having spent the last few evenings watching Angel - evil lawyers, mysterious antiquarian books.

Not marrying Andrew Lloyd Webber

Jan. 14th, 2008 at 1:49 PM

I dreamed about Andrew Lloyd Webber. Not a favourite topic. I think I'd won something where I had to have dinner with him... my mother and younger sister were with me, and ALW was being very polite to me, very charming, serving us delicious food and wine and champagne, even though he knew all the things I've had to say about him over the years. I began to feel guilty for having been so mean about him. I even avoided mentioning the Phantom movie, in a move of great tact.

Then we were on a large boat, and I was wandering around it talking to people. I found Paul, who was chatting about acting with Alexis Denisof, and Wesley was there so I chatted with Wesley for a bit, only I was called to attend some ceremony with ALW. So I found my way to this throne area and sat on a throne, and ALW asked me to marry him, but it was clear that it wasn't real, it was like some performance that Disney characters might do at Disneyland. But still, eww. I was clearly meant to say yes, but instead I said "Only if you promise to abandon the Phantom sequel", and ALW looked cross and said I'd ruined everything now.

Ha.

After ruining ALW's day, I think I got involved with piracy. Later, wandering around a huge store with old telephones in it, and finding a tube full of jelly beans and Vicodin. Also, packing things, strings of beads and jewellery.

(Note, the Wesley bit means Wes from Buffy/Angel, who appeared in a large number of my dreams at the time!)

[danishmiilk]

ship your moots with nct uwu

omg firstly thanks for the ask anon! assuming this is one of my moots who wants to date their bias but if it isnt oR if it is,,, smh i love you IM GOING BY VIBES YALLZERS

ship your moots with nct!

@softietaeyong || taeyong. because shes whipped for him and hed totally be whipped for her too bc who isnt tbh aha look rae we have a stable friendship going on! wow! BUT THEYD GO WELL TOGETHER BC BEAUTY X BEAUTY

@jimjamjaemin || jaemin. look it sounds like im shipping with biases uh but shes so confident and outgoing and everyone loves her and i THINK YES GREAT FIT BECAUSE I FLIRT WITH HER OFTEN AND I THINK JAEMINW OULD TOO AND HED TOTALLY ENJOY HER REACTIONS?? juseyo couple,,, goodbye, im sending you off to jaemin.

@neo-shitty || mark. i feel like shes just so cARING my god she alw sends me stuff and i feel like mark would spam her with links etc and like “i want to dye my hair red.” YALL CAN IMPULSIVELY DYE HAIR TOGETHER

@aesqas || doyoung. idk just,,, shes intimidating but also cool and also a total cutie <333 and if that isn’t doyoung idk who is? like shes kinda dry sometimes (IN A GOOD WAY FATE DONT KILL) but like sends asks and doyoung fits that and they fit so well uwus

@seeing-dreams || chenle. just chenle. i don’t know wHY but you seem like you’d go so well with chenle like you chat a lot and your ENERGYYYYYY GOES WELL WITH CHENLES AND YOURE CRACKHEADS BECAUSE SMH I LOVE YOU TWO

@fruityutas || shotaro. sorry were you expecting yuta?? LMAO BECAUSE SHOTARO’S SMILE GIVES OFF SUCH SOFT VIBES and so does your dming style like so soft,,, so cute,,, squish,,, 

@navyhyuck​ || jeno. idk your hearts and emojis feel very jeno smile and i think im deluding myself but thats fine yall better invite me to your wedding

@orange-nimon-cross || renjun. i think renjun’d be mad if people don’t reply him either and like (oops been on receiving end of The Mad) also i think yalls humour kinda fits?? like also personality kinda sassy etc etc etc wOW

@adamfoolcry || sicheng. look he’s still my boyfriend so don’t take him away but the vibes = sicheng oh my gooood you have NO IDEA OKAY WHY WHY CRY IM WILLING TO SHIP YOU WITH MY BF?? BECAUSE YALL WOULD FIT TOGETHER SO WELL NOT EVEN K I D D I N G  mAAN

@hannie-dul-set || donghyuck. hEy yOU FLIRT BACK??? WOW!! that’s haechan for you hyuck’d totally do that okay- and like yes i feel you + hyuck the vibes match a lot?? LIKE A LOT- LIKE ALOT OF PEOPLE LIKE YOU AND LIKE- i cant english forgive juseyo

@ncteaxhoe || kun. you put in so much effort to get to know how to read my name and i think kun?? would really appreciate that level of CARINGNESS yk like he’d do something like that too and he’d treat you so well. my god.

@neosculptures || lucas. why? you kinda wack broski. i have no more to say! goodbye!

@du0tine || johnny?? yes. so pretty. so intimidating. haven’t talked to you though i’d like to (SORRY) but straight up went “hit me up” like yes the confidence- johnny.

@xiaocvlts || dejun. i mean- dejun. kinda intimidating, super talented, and everything anyone could wish for.

@sunhyuck || yangyang. idk man vibes just- yall would vibe. totally. extremely. very. 

[tonyspepper]

Pepperony Week 2019: ↳ day 2: sharing a bed · this is set post-im2, not long after their kiss.

Read on AO3

For years, Pepper had been wondering what would happen if they ever kissed, how it would feel. But the thought of what would happen next, had never crossed her mind. Now that it had happened, and she had kissed Tony Stark, she was wondering about a lot of other things.

Would she spend the night with him? And if she did, what was it like to wake up by his side in the morning? Would she feel like one of his one-night stands, even if they didn’t sleep with each other tonight? Was he even capable of sleeping in the same bed with a woman and not having sex with her? Did she want to have sex with him? Of course she wanted to, just maybe not right away. Could she even resist him, though, if he tried to sweet-talk her into it?

She had seen Tony fully naked once, accidentally not intentionally. Back then, when she still thought he would never be more to her than just her self-centered, annoying boss. She had walked in on him, masturbating, and it had taken her quite a while to push that disgusting image to the far back of her mind. But things were so different now. She was not going to be disgusted by seeing him naked, she would be turned on by it—how could she not be. But it still felt strange to even think about it.

After all these years, it just seemed so surreal that she was finally going to have sex with him. That she could have sex with Tony if she wanted to, because they had kissed on the roof, and then they had eaten dinner together, chatting and laughing. And now he was doing this thing of playing with her fingers as he held her hand, tracing circles on her palm with his thumb while he stared deep into her eyes—a thing only people who were in love did. She had been waiting so long for this moment, it didn’t seem real.

“You’re, uh... You’re gonna stay the night?” He cleared his throat and felt suddenly flush as he shifted in his chair. “I mean I can take you home if you want… Or you can just go home by yourself. It’s fine. I was just thinking that, um, maybe you’d... like to stay here... with, uh... with...”

“I’d love to stay with you, Tony.”

Pepper bit her lip, her eyes widening as she realized the delight springing from the sound of her voice. He felt the kick of her pulse beneath his fingers. Smiled, as he laced his fingers through hers, intent on holding on for as long as she’d let him.

This wouldn’t be the first time Pepper spent the night. She had crashed at his place quite a few times. She had her own room, more or less, a bunch of extra clothes in the closet, as well as a whole drawer full of cosmetic products in the cabinet of the guest bathroom. But this was different.

Tony didn’t want her to sleep in the spare room, no matter how much she had made it her own. He wanted Pepper to sleep with him. Well, next to him. He wanted them to share a bed. Did she snore? Man, how adorable would that be? He couldn’t wait to find out.

“So, why don’t you go upstairs and, you know, do your... thing... get ready for bed, and I will clean up this mess and then when I’m done with my night routine, uh, we can...” He blushed deeply, smiling coyly.

“You really have a night routine?” Her smile twisted into a smirk. “Isn’t that a little boring to you? You know, doing things the same way every single night?”

Tony let out a silent breath. She was teasing him. Thank God. That meant he wasn’t doing anything wrong. One hour in a serious relationship and he was already scared to fuck it up. They were in a relationship now, weren’t they? Because everything that had happened after their kiss on the roof definitely felt like they were checking things off of a couples bucket list.

Thinking, Tony looked down at their intertwined linking, him still holding her hand. Spending this evening with her, talking to her, watching her laugh and smile at his words, was the kind of meaningful bonding he had always wanted them to do. It just had taken him an awful lot of time to realize and admit that. And that kiss... Kissing her had never felt weird. He had just been so worried that she regretted it. That’s why he’d said it. He’d wanted to give Pepper a way out. But then they had kissed again, and they could kiss even more now.

They could do so much of that lovey-dovey stuff that couples did which he hadn’t even thought of before; which he thought he didn’t even want to do. He had wondered, once or twice, what sharing a bed with Pepper would feel like, how it would feel to hold her in his arms while he drifted off to sleep.

But now he was thinking of how it would be to just watch her, stare at her sleeping beauty for hours. And with that thought, his heart started beating even faster, and he could not focus his thinking at all.

“Tony?” Pepper softly called out his name, and when he looked up at her, she was smiling shyly, her head tilted to one side—right, he still owed her an answer to her question.

“I really don’t... have a night routine,” he said with a chuckle, blushing. “It just sounded so, uh, normal to say that.”

“You’re not normal,” she replied, a little giggle escaping her mouth. “Far from it, actually, and you know it.”

Tony smirked, and then it hit him.

She really was the perfect match for him. He didn’t have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, like a playboy without a heart. He couldn’t. She knew him too well, and she would see right through his act. With Pepper, he could just be himself, and for the first time in his life he wasn’t afraid of that. Well, maybe a little. But she’d always seen the good in him. And if he could be even half the man she made him believe he could be then he would be one hell of a guy.

He let her hand go—he didn’t want to but how was she supposed to move upstairs if he didn’t—and rose from the chair. “Just let me know if you need anything,” he said, smiling. She nodded, as she got up, and then walked away.

When he was finished loading the dishwasher and cleaning the table and countertop, Tony realized the kitchen had never looked that clean. He was simply so nervous about this whole thing of sharing a bed with Pepper that he had spent an extra time of minutes procrastinating. He really wanted to be with her, especially to be with her like that, but she made him feel like a little school boy who didn’t know the first thing about women.

Distinctly conscious of every single step he took towards meeting the woman of his dreams in his bedroom, he went upstairs, thinking about how to act around Pepper and what to say to her. This had always been so easy for him, but only because there had never been anything at stake. He’d never cared about anyone the way he cared about her. Nothing had ever been more important to him than this night, a night he wanted her to remember forever as the beautiful beginning of countless other nights together.

Entering the master bedroom, the first thing Tony noticed was Pepper, occupying the right side of his bed.

“I didn’t know if you have a—“

“Favorite bedside?” he finished her sentence and smiled. “Just seeing you on any side of my bed is fine.” He shook his head. “I mean it’s amazing. No, it’s—I love getting to sleep with you. God, no, that came out wrong,” he continued stammering the words, his voice shaky. “I just... I love that you’re here... with me.”

Pepper’s cheeks flushed softly, the color rising past her freckles. She bit her lower lip and turned her head, but not before Tony saw the emotion reflected in her eyes.

Disappearing into the en-suite bathroom, he stared at himself in the mirror, his face flushed with embarrassment. “What the hell was that?” he mumbled. He wished the ground would open and swallow him up. He really needed to get his act together.

While Pepper waited for Tony to get back, a seemingly endless flood of thoughts and feelings swept over her. She was dressed in only a sleeping shirt and boxers, but her whole body seemed to be on fire, heat blazing inside her. The prospect of spending the night with him, as a couple, after all this time, warmed her blood and quickened her heartbeat. She knew he was nervous. Pepper knew him long enough to read his face, and find meaning behind Tony’s stammering, but she wondered if he felt the same—the little tingle of nerves, the flutter in his stomach. There really was no doubt that she loved him.

“Is this too... sexy?” he asked, and she tilted her head to see him stand in the door frame with just his briefs on, and the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she responded. “I’ve seen you many times like this before.” She smirked. “I’ve got a track record of resisting temptation.”

Tony’s eyebrows arched up. “Oh, so you really were trying to resist me? Why didn’t you say so? Could’ve saved ourselves a lot of trouble, Pep.”

Grinning, Pepper flipped back the covers in invitation, and Tony crawled into bed next to her and wrapped his arms and legs around her, as if it was the most casual thing in the world for him. But his heart was actually beating so fast, he was sure she could hear it. He rested his cheek against her head and closed his eyes as she relaxed into him. Pepper’s body fit into his as perfectly as the glass slipper fit Cinderella’s feet. It was the best feeling in the world. He never wanted to let go of her ever again.

”You should’ve told me you were dying,” she whispered, sighing.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he responded just as quietly, feeling her clutch him more tightly, drawing him even closer.

She could’ve lost him not knowing why. He could have been taken from her before she could tell him how she really felt about him, before she could get to feel his lips on hers, and his arms around her body. Maybe they could have had this sooner had she known how serious his condition was. Pepper couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that they might have never ended up in his bed together, if things had gone just a little different.

She didn’t want to imagine losing him, even though she knew, with him being Iron Man, there was always the risk it could happen. He was living a life in danger, and she was now a bigger part of that life than she had ever been before. To finally allow herself to love Tony Stark, to love every single part of him, with all her heart and soul, was the hardest—and most incredible—thing she had ever done.

”I could lay like this for hours,” he said softly after a few minutes of silence, his words only a breath on her skin. “Just holding you.”

He sighed contentedly, as he reached out and caught her hand in his. Her fingers curled around his, and he turned her hand over before lifting it to place a kiss on her knuckles. Feeling the light tremor go through her as his lips lingered on her skin and her fingers tightened, Tony smiled. If he died now, right then and there in Pepper’s arms, he would die happy. The happiest he'd ever been. He loved her. He loved her so goddamn much.

Pepper’s hand came up, as she looked at him, and she wrapped her fingers around Tony’s cheek. Tony moaned softly and pushed his face into the hand that caressed it, closing his eyes to the feeling of her touch. She brushed her thumb across his lips, remembering the long-awaited moment of kissing them for the very first time. Slowly Pepper reached up and carefully pressed her mouth to his. The kiss was so light, a feather-like touch, and yet it gave her a giddy thrill.

For a brief instant, there was no response, and then Tony’s arms tightened around her. His hands slid up between her shoulder blades to pull her closer, and Pepper melted into him, welcoming the hot, slick slide of his tongue against hers. Tony bent her slightly back over his arm, and feasted on the sensitive skin of her throat. She took in big gulps of air and shivered with pleasure. Pulling his mouth away, he gazed deep into her eyes, almost gasping at what he saw in them. He had never seen anyone look at him like that.

“I—“

She touched a finger to his lips, took words from his mind with her steady, mesmerizing gaze, and whispered to him, “Just hold me, Tony.”

That would be enough right now. He didn’t need to speak and tell her he loved her, if that was what he truly wanted to say. She just wanted to feel him, to be close to him after all this time longing for him. And when he eased to her side before he collapsed on top of her, gathering her close and holding her to him, she knew he felt the same.

“For as long as you want,” he mumbled, leaning close to her throat.

Tony inhaled her scent deeper within himself until he could taste her and then he did, tasting Pepper’s skin with his lips. He gave a soft sigh, the thought of getting to do this now, whenever he wanted, making him smile. Kissing her, caressing her, holding her—he never wanted to stop expressing his love for her.

“That may be a while,” Pepper said with a chuckle, as she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, closing her eyes.

She was rewarded by his boyish giggle, muffled against her neck. “I can hold you forever, Ms. Potts.”

“Forever sounds perfect, Mr. Stark.”

[skyfallofcybertron-blog]

Transformers Skyfall: Chapter 3. Famous Blue Raincoat.

Singers never forget. Singers record everything. Their minds are filled with the songs of Cybertron. Generations of stories and history; passed down from parent to child. If I wasn’t sparked Minicon; if I was forged pure, I’m sure I would have learned the way that Singers could communicated through the spark. I lacked that fundamental teaching. However, I still recorded everything and stored it safely behind an near unbreakable firewall.

Commander Starscream deemed that was a priority. So, logically, I was taken to Shockwave. To be improved.

Shockwave’s lab was just a creepy as he was. It was a crosscut of every sick experiment or torture that you could think of, but kept in a neat, organized and sterile fashion. Megatron basically let him have free rein to do whatever he pleased. Most bots hoped and prayed to never see his lab in their function. I shifted on my peds; completely overshadowed by the monstrous mech.

"Minicon," He began, his signal red optic staring expressionlessly at my medical records, "Lord Megatron as deemed that your Singer subsets to be an assist to the Decepticons. Your ability to process information at a quick and efficient manner has impressed him. He has instructed me to enhance your Singer capabilities and proved you with upgrades so you can more suitably function as communications officer and spy. Lord Megatron wishes for the process to begin eminently."

I had no time to make a retort.

The pain was unbearable. Everything was removed and deep wired. Parts disappeared. Parts where added. By the end of it, I wasn't sure what was left of me was me to begin with.

I woke up to the world spinning and my audios screaming. I covered them, but the sound of my own servos and joints made it worst. Not only could I hear my joints, but I could hear the machines in the room inner workings and the conversations through the walls, the marching outside, the yelling from the battle that was being fought clicks away.

My internal gyros couldn't tell if I was up or down or walking or sitting or flying. Intakes turned and I emptied them on the floor. I hung over the side of the berth, my frame staking as I tried to reorient myself. I clutched the frame of the berth tightly in my digits as I struggled to breathe. Long, sticky lines of haft processed energon dipped from my mouth.

I didn’t have a chance to get my bearings. A vechicon drone scooped me up and brought me to my next appointment. Starscream waiting impatiently outside of what I would find out later to be my new home. Starscream grumbled something about the mess I was in, but to be honest, I wasn’t really focusing on that. I was more deterred by the fact that the drone set me on the floor. I was now being forced to stand on my own two peds. The walls looked like they were swimming. I set a servo on the vechicon’s leg just to make sure I wasn’t actually the one swimming. It was definitely the walls.

The Air Commander was greeted by Night Glide. I don’t actually remember how the conversation went. I do have it uploaded and backuped, but even after thousands of years, I never watched the footage of my third pass off. I can only assume that Starscream was stroking his own ego and only threw in the fact that I had just gotten out of surgery. The two Seekers didn’t chat for long. Thank Primus.

Once Starscream and his escort disappeared, Night Glide gathered me up. He set me on his berth while he tried to get any sense of function out of me. It must have been a challenge. Bless his stubborn spark for doing so.

“My name isn’t Minicon…” I remember muttering.

There was a flash of relief in his optics. I remember that clear as day. It was the only good thing that I saw all day. Somebot that actually wanted to help me. Somebot that didn’t want to murder me outright. Somebot that actually cared about me.

“Then what is your name?” Night Glide replied. I remember that he was being ever so careful wiping the energon off of my faceplate.

“...Skyfall...”

Then, Night Glide smiled.

“Skyfall.”

I was pulled from my thoughts when Night Glide tapped me on the shoulder plate. I rubbed my optic and yawned. It was too early for this. The two of us were sitting in a colour parlour; waiting for my appointment. Since both of us had work, I had to get the earliest slot possible. For once, my tinyness was a good thing. It wasn’t going to take long for a complete overhaul.

“Are you alright?” Night Glide asked.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I'm alright. Just tired still.”

“The Immigration Office is making you work too hard.”

“There's a lot of work to do.”

Night Glide’s month became a thin little line of displeasure. I rubbed his leg to comfort him. He took my servo in his.

There was a commotion from one of the offices down the hall. An excited squeal from both an engine and vocalizer. Then the sudden charge of peds. A rounded out groundpounder femme came racing down the corridor.

“SKYFALL! YOU’RE ALIVE!”

I smiled brightly. My optics couldn't believe what I was seeing. I hadn't seen this femme in years and not even because of the War. I hadn't seen Wind Whistler since before being sold to Calloway. I was whipped up in soft blues and pastel pinks as Wind Whistler hugged me tightly to her chestplates.

“Sweet Solus Prime, Windy!” I giggled, “It's nice to see you too!”

“Where’s Jetstream and the mechs!? I haven't seen you guys since Erion’s air show! Primus, that's so long ago now-”

Jetstream.

That wasn't a name I had thought about for a long, long time. A flash of her faceplate appeared in my mind. Gentle yellow optics that was always fill with affection. An affectionation that never blossomed. It just lead to back door agreements and Swindle’s lies.

My spark suddenly ached.

Night Glide once again brought me back to reality. The Seeker stood; setting his servo on my shoulder. He leaned in to whisper, though loud enough for Wind Whistler to hear.

“Now, who's your friend, sweetspark?”

“Ahh…”

The words fizzled out in my voice box. I looked between the now concerned bots. I faked a smile; hoping that it would drown out my spark.

“Ah, yeah, I'm sorry. I haven't introduced you two yet.” I gestured to the Seeker, “Windy, this is Night Glide; my endura and carrier.”

I watched as the poor grounder’s face try to pick an emotion. Primus only knows what Wind Whistler was now thinking. Oh, well. I had plenty of time to explain what happened once we got started. Wind Whistler finally settled on a delight.

“Oh wow! You got hitched!? Congratulations!” She said with a giggle. She looked over to Night Glide, “To the both of you!” Then back to me, “Looks like we have a lot to catch up on, huh, Sky?”

I couldn’t help, but to nod. “Seems like that.”

Night Glide said his goodbyes. He hurried off to work as Wind Whistler chirped away about the last few thousand years or so. She had joined the Autobots in the end. She was stationed on an ark with her partner, Evac. They were basically rescue bots, but for the ship’s inhabitants. Two fast cars racing around to save the lives of bots in distress. Seemed like she had it a bit better than most.

After a few quick hours of surgery and part clean up; I was surprised how good I felt. My chassis didn't rattle nearly as much. The stiffness that I had ignored, to the point where I believed it was normal, was gone. My wings didn't creak anymore. Nor when I transformed. Wind Whistler was insistent that I had go and fly around the building before she started on my new paint. I cycled the block a few times; enjoying the sun. The feeling of wind under my wings. The sensation felt fresh, new, like the first time I took to the air...

I had to admit it. Windy was as good as ever.

I felt like a million credits.

I decided that the grounder would be the one to choose my new paint. Wind Whistler was ecstatic. To be perfectly honest, I had no idea what colors I wanted. I had been sparked a dull gray color with purple trim. I never gave a thought about changing it. It was what it was. Calloway tried a few times to get me brighten up my plates, but I never took him up on his offer. During the War, there was no time to fuss over paint jobs. I was kind of surprised I still had paint still clinging to my metal.

We settled on a flashy chameleon paint; something that changed on the angle and the lighting. It was a brilliant violet as first, but if it hit the right light it flashed a deep blue or a soft lavender. Tiny shimmering flecks glistened throughout the entire finish and it was all wrapped up in a bright orange trim. I looked like and felt like stardust.

With a hug and a wave, I hopped to my shift over at the Immigration Office; definitely feeling better then I had have ever been. I trotted down hallways with a tall stack of data pads as my coworkers stopped to give me a compliment or two. Not going to lie, it was a good ego boost. I began to wonder why I had never done it sooner. Too busy with work, I suppose.

“My, my, my, look at Ms. Skyfall.” I heard a voice purr.

I peeked over my stack. A slick pearly black racer decked out in bright orange biolights was standing in front of the door I was trying to enter. The mech smiled coyly and bented down at the waist to get on my optic level.

“Does Sweet Wings know you’re charming all the mechs?”

I felt my armor puff up in embarrassment, “Delegate Fireworks.”

Fireworks chuckled. If I was to have a best friend, it would be Fireworks. I had only known the racer for a few short cycles. He was a delegate from Velocitron; a colony that prided itself on their speed and engineering. He was part of the latter. Fireworks was a celebrity back on his homeworld. A daredevil with a flare for pyrotechnics. He crashed into my spark and he had falling helm over ped for Night Glide and I. I never could figure out why.

“I’m sorry,” I continued as Firework’s help me with my paperwork, “Where you all waiting for me? I meant to get here sooner.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetspark. The Mistress of Flame is fashionably late as always.”

He rolled his optics. I didn’t really know much about Camiens, but from what little Fireworks spoke about, the Mistress of Flame seem to work on her own schedule. She afterall was her colony’s head figure. The femme must have been a busy bot.

“We’re still puttering around and setting things up.”

“Oh thank Primus.”

I followed Fireworks through the doors to a large chamber room. Delegates from across the colonies milled about the room; socializing with Cybertron’s new government heads. History is written by those who won and those who won where the Autobots. Team Prime in particular took up the mantle of government officials until there was enough of an infrastructure to host an election. That point was coming, sooner than expected, but all of this forward motion was a good thing in everyone’s books.

I did still get shivers just standing in a room filled with some of the most elite Autobot warriors though. They may have been my new bosses and I might have had a flashy new paint job, but they still scared the ever living scrap out of me. So, I did my job; setting up the conference table with the meeting’s tasks and files. Quickly and discreetly. So, I could get in and get the pits out. I wasn’t a warrior bot by any stretch of the imagination.

One bot always noticed me though. Every single time. Without fail. Yet every time, he would make me jump out of my plating when he addressed me. I thought I would have gotten used to it by now. He was the biggest bot in the room after all.

“Thank you, Skyfall.” Optimus Prime softly spoke.

I froze in my spot. Slowly, I turned my helm up to look at the massive Prime. Sweet Primus, he could have crushed me under his ped no problem if he wanted to. Any further back into the War, he probably would have. Yet, Optimus had his usual kind and soft smile on. I smiled meekly in return. Out of instinct. Like the well trained Minicon I am.

“Y-You’re welcome, Optimus, s-sir.” I sputtered out.

Optimus smile turned into the thinnest of frowns. He looked so sad. Or perhaps, disappointed? It would be hard to ever know what happens in the mind of a Prime. I’m not one after all. I have no idea what kind of thought process he has with all that ancient knowledge stored in his helm. I felt my wings droop low to the floor anyways.

After a moment of contemplating; the mighty Optimus Prime did lean down and offer me his servo. I blinked a few times; trying to process what to do. It slowly clicked into place. I handed over one my last data pads to Optimus. My servo was impossibly small in Prime’s as I gave him the pad, but he took it with utmost care.

“Good luck with the meeting, s-sir.” I managed to say.

Optimus Prime’s smile returned. This time, it was a little brighter.

“Thank you, Skyfall.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” I repeated.

The Prime softly nodded. He stood to address the Mistress of Flame and Cityspeaker Windblade. I took the opportunity to disengage from Optimus and skirt over to Windblade to give her the meeting’s notes. Like Fireworks, Windblade was somebot I could actually speak too without going into a panic attack. Windblade reinsured me that Optimus wasn’t going to crush me. I can only be so sure though.

Later that night, I was resting on top of Night Glide’s chestplate. The both of us off in our own little worlds. Just quietly enjoying each other’s company. This is how we loosened up at the end of the day. With just the warmth of each other close. The War made us paranoid for the other’s contact. We both needed it to function.

“Why didn’t you ever talk about Wind Whistler? Or that Jetstream and Erion that she spoke about?” Night Glide suddenly broke the silence.

I fumbled with my data pad. It bounced off his plating onto our berth. For a moment, I forgot that my voice box could work. It crackled as I forced myself to speak.

“Because… I didn’t think I would ever seen them again.” I whispered, “They were my...friends from Kalis. Before I started working for Calloway of Iacon.”

“Friends or masters?” Night Glide accused.

To be honest, I didn’t really have an answer for him.

[potterotterdrafts]

Escort Anthea

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like Mythea, Sherstrade, Mystrade, and Johncroft.

You: Mr. Holmes? I apologize for bothering you but I have to cancel our appointments indefinitely. I am happy to send another girl, should you wish.-A (Escort AU. TW: Abuse, can play without, just let me know!)

Stranger: No, don't worry about sending anyone else. I'm sorry to hear that, I hope everything is well. I would like to see you again should you become available, of course. -M

You: I'm not sure when that will be, sir. I don't want to keep you waiting.-A

Stranger: It's not waiting, really. I'm sure you hear this from a lot of clients, and I in no way think I'm unique or even a priority, I'm under no illusions - but I feel I connected with you well, and I'm not much interested in attempting to go to the trouble with someone else. It's quite honestly less hassle, unless you have another you can recommend who would be good for social-only engagements in the same vein as yourself. Intelligent, well-read, clever and witty. Otherwise I shall go it alone for the time being -M

You: You are very unique, Mr. Holmes, it's part of what's so charming and alluring about you. Sarah would be perfect a perfect date for you to take to your social engagements. I'll have her profile sent to you this evening. I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience. I will miss our time together a great deal.-A

Stranger: Thank you, Anthea. I shall, as well. I don't want to pry, but if there's anything I can do, anything at all - now or in the future - please don't hesitate to contact me. I'm absolutely serious. -M

You: No, sir, there's nothing. You have much better things to do than solve my problems for me.-A

Stranger: It would be my privilege, but I won't press you. Take care of yourself, dear girl -M

You: [A few weeks later. They saw each other at an event, but Anthea wasn't allowed to speak with Mycroft.] You looked handsome in your new suit.-A

Stranger: Your dress was beautiful, but I admit concern over how thin you've become and the proprietary attitude of your companion. -M

You: I needed to lose the weight.-A Charles wasn't having a very good day. It was a long evening for him.-A

Stranger: Nonsense, you were fine the way you were. -M

Stranger: I've had long evenings, but I haven't acted like that, I hope. Are you sure there's nothing I can do? -M

You: Thank you, Mr. Holmes, that's very sweet of you.-A And no, you were nothing but a gentleman any time we were together. My favorite politician.-A

You: [Delayed] Things have simply been stressful for everyone. Charles is the man who runs the company I work for. He's changed a few things.-A

Stranger: Perhaps it's time to find a new service to contract with, my dear. -M

Stranger: Sarah has been a lovely date for social occasions but she doesn't have your spark -M

You: She'll learn what you like soon.-A

You: I don't have the option to leave.-A

Stranger: What do you mean, you don't have the option to leave? -M

You: Charles has taken me for his. He can be..jealous.-A

Stranger: You do realize that's no longer equitable employment or contract work but abusive and best and slavery at worst -M

Stranger: [delayed] Apologies if I've made things worse. I can help, if you feel it would be safe. -M

You: No, it wasn't your fault, Mr. Holmes. It was mine. I broke the rules and was punished accordingly. It's nothing you need to get involved in.-A Especially not for a woman like me.-A

Stranger: A woman like you? You mean a caring, intelligent woman who makes her trade caring for the emotions and needs of others? I don't think it would be difficult to find things on your employer that would put him away for a good long time -M

You: I would not have put it so eloquently, no, but thank you.-A What does it matter what happens now? Even if I did leave him, Charles would make sure I could never work in the industry again.-A That's what started this whole thing. I told him I wanted out because I'd met someone I cared for.-A

Stranger: I know it's a lucrative industry but surely the talents and skills you've honed can be used in other professions -M

You: I would have to find someone willing to overlook my past. There aren't many employers who would do such a thing.-A

Stranger: What an utter ass. That is the behaviour of a child - M

Stranger: Well, I would certainly keep you. I don't mean for that to be patronizing. I realize it probably is. -M

You: There's a difference in your wanting to keep me and Charles' wanting to. You believe you have feelings for me. Charles simply doesn't want to share.-A

Stranger: I want you to be happy and free to do as you like. -M

Stranger: I care for you, in what capacity beyond that of a good friend, I do not know. I haven't allowed myself to contemplate beyond that - but I do want what you feel is best for you, not what I feel is best. -M

You: [Delayed] He forbid me from seeing you.-A

Stranger: I have snipers. -M

You: That's a bit much, sir.-A

Stranger: I have a black site in London and several outside of it? -M

You: Mr. Holmes, I can't let you get involved. I've said too much as it is.-A [Delayed] I have to go. I'm sorry.-A

Stranger: Take care of yourself, Anthea. You know where I am. -M

You: [Early the next morning.] Mr. Holmes, I won't be able to contact you again. I'm sorry for any inconvenience my absence will cause you. Your next three sessions with Sarah are free and Mr. Elliot hopes you'll accept his sincere apologies for my unacceptable behavior. Should you need anything, please contact him directly.-A

Stranger: Well, that was fine and dandy, Mycroft supposed, but he didn't want sessions with Sarah, free or otherwise. Oh, she was a nice girl, smart enough, but she lacked whatever it was that Anthea had. And her behavior hadn't been unacceptable, so there was no need to apologize. He texted back as much, then sent a message to Charles saying the same, that he was sure it was all just a misunderstanding. And then, he went to work. He'd find something on Charles Elliot - no matter how clever he thought he was, Mycroft was more so and had more resources at his disposal. A sniper wasn't sounding like a bad idea at the moment, to be honest.

You: Anthea had sent the message to Mycroft after a rather eventful night with Charles. They'd gone to dinner, then gone home where Charles reminded Anthea who she belonged to. It wasn't until she was caught texting Mycroft (and forgetting to clear the messages) that Anthea was truly punished for stepping out of line with her boss. The early morning message to her former client was written in an attempt to calm Charles down and for Anthea to receive medical attention. She knew her left arm was broken and she knew a few ribs were at least broken. She could feel her lip swelling from the split at the corner from where Charles had backhanded her after an off the cuff remark. She didn't know how many other bruises littered her body and she didn't care to count them as she sat on the exam table being asked repeatedly who hurt her.

Stranger: The first thing Mycroft had done was put a flag on Anthea's name so if anything came up, he'd know. And when his assistant brought to his attention that she'd landed in A&E later that morning with serious injuries, he cursed himself for not going ahead with the investigation sooner. He had connections at the hospital and he hoped she would forgive him for being just as much of an manipulative ass as Charles, but with different motivations, when he sent the request for her to be kept overnight on a regular ward, where all visitors would be forced to leave promptly at eight and not return until early the next morning. He had no doubt she could actually use the healing time and rest, but it also gave him some wiggle room in which to work. He had discreet plainclothes guards assigned to that corridor with instructions to check badges and identification of anyone attempting to access her room, and started digging for dirt on Mr Elliot.

You: She lost count of the number of times she told the doctor that she was fine and just needed her arm put in a cast so that she could go home. No one believed her, of course, but it hardly stopped her from trying. "I don't need to stay over night for a broken arm and a few bruised ribs." she complained to the nurse who was getting her room set up. "There has to be some mistake." she said. "I'm perfectly fine, see? Charles is my partner, please let him take me home." The nurse shook her head. "Just a precaution, Ms. Jones. I'm sure your partner will understand." It took Charles being physically pulled out of her room and escorted off the hospital premises that night for Anthea to realize what was going on. She picked up the hospital phone next to her bed and dialed Mycroft's number (her phone destroyed in the fight). "Does the eight o'clock restriction extend to you too, Mr. Holmes?"

Stranger: "Good evening to you as well, Anthea," Mycroft said dryly, "And that depends on if you would like it to or not. Otherwise, I do think I've found some rather gruesome things on Mr Elliot that I'm preparing to allow to find their way to the proper authorities. Unless you would like me to engage the sniper, of course."

You: Anthea couldn't help but chuckle at Mycroft's tone and offer to kill her abuser. She shook her head, knowing he couldn't see her, and reminded him not to do anything he'd regret. "The doctor's and nurses have urged me to file charges against him." she began. "He...Charles broke my arm in two places. They think I may have to have surgery if the cast doesn't fix things." she sighed, looking down at her arm. "I shouldn't have bothered you last night." she whispered, feeling the tears at the corner of her eyes. "I just couldn't..." her voice cracked and she stopped. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes. Thank you for your help. Good day."

Stranger: "No, Anthea, please. You should have bothered me last night. It's not a bother, I mean. You aren't a bother. I'm happy, as always, to help you," he assured her. "I'm terribly sorry about your arm, and I hope you can avoid surgery. I'd like to find you somewhere safe to stay. There's going to be a good deal of people going into a witness protection scheme because of this. You can be one of them. You probably ought to be. The list of charges... it's long. It's not something he'll be granted bail for. And it implicates most of his underlings, but I've kept the escorts out of it, as most of them had no idea and have done a good job of publicly listing completely legal work - exotic entertaining and the like," Mycroft said, hoping she wouldn't hang up. "Even if you never want to speak to me again for how I've commandeered the situation, I'd do it again to attempt to prevent you from going through any more horrors."

You: Anthea was getting ready to hang up the phone because she didn't want Mycroft to hear her breakdown, but stopped as he began hurriedly explaining everything to her. She couldn't believe he'd taken everything so seriously. She couldn't believe that he'd followed through on his promise to her. She covered her mouth as she listened to him, tears falling down her cheeks in crooked lines. "T-the reason I-I'm even in this mess is because I-I couldn't st-stay away from y-you...." she stammered into the phone. A sob escaped as she continued. "I b-broke the ru-rules and fell fo-for y-you." she explained. "Because y-you treated me better th-than anyone I'd e-ever serviced. Y-you were my best cl-client."

Stranger: "Darling girl," Mycroft said softly, "treating someone with basic human dignity no matter their profession is what should be aspired to, and I'm so terribly sorry that hasn't been your experience. You're under no obligation to me, I need you to understand that. I am ridiculously fond of you, as I said before, I haven't allowed myself to contemplate further. I just want your happiness and safety. If that means you go into a protection scheme and I never see you again, yes, of course I shall miss you, but you being safe is more important. Getting Charles off the streets is going to make a lot of people safer, and preventing others from filling the vacuum will help, as well."

You: Anthea shook her head again, trying to wipe her cheeks off as she held the phone. "I-it's not about obligation." she sniffled. "Y-you aren't the first person I-I've felt this way about." Embarrassed she took a moment to try (and fail) to calm herself down. Anthea didn't want to go into hiding. Anthea didn't want to leave London or her friends or Mycroft. She wanted to go home and sleep in her own bed. She wanted to make sure that Charles didn't hurt anyone else. "I-I don't expect this t-to change anything be-between us, Mr. H-holmes." she said quietly. "I just wanted you t-to know. I don't want to leave L-London or go into h-hiding. I just want things to be l-like they used to be."

Stranger: "I'm releasing the information to the authorities presently, and I've had Charles tailed since he left the hospital. He'll be in custody within the hour. Would you like me to come and see you, or would you rather just get the good drugs and get some rest?" Mycroft asked, gently. Of course he wanted to see her, but realized that she'd been through a great deal, and might not be feeling up to it. "It doesn't need to change anything unless we decide it does, together. I would like to see you for social events once you're feeling up to it. They're so much more fun with you, as you know my coworkers and the important players by now. We do make a good team."

You: Anthea thought about what she wanted for a few moments, smiling when he complimented her. "Can't I h-have it all?" She asked, finally beginning to calm down. "You and the medication? I-I know I won't be a-able to rest tonight. These beds are horribly un-uncomfortable." She took a few steadying breaths, reaching up to wipe her eyes again. "I'll attend anything y-you want me to, Mr. Holmes. Y-you deserve to be repaid for the work you've put in on my case. I don't know how to thank you." She confessed. "But I'll start b-by trying to clean m-myself up for you today."

Stranger: Mycroft laughed softly at her asking if she could have it all. It wasn't unkind laughter, just genuine amusement. "You can have whatever you like, up to and including chocolate ice cream before bed, because you've had a hell of a few weeks. Don't worry about repaying me. It's not necessary. Nor about cleaning yourself up. You've been through the wringer today, my dear. If it will make YOU feel better, then do so - but not on my account. I should be there shortly. Twenty minutes or so."

You: Anthea hummed a thank you to the man before she hung up the phone. He knew her so well it frightened her. He'd never been shy about the amount of information he had obtained and Anthea had grown used to it. Mycroft had a difficult career, with many different facets that he was forced to keep spinning in harmony. It was his job to ensure those around him were truthful, safe for him and others to be around. It was his job to stay twelve steps ahead of everyone else. Anthea had been swept along in his charm and mystery, falling for him after a few months of seeing him, and she'd never been able to restrain herself. When the nurse came in, Anthea asked for help making herself look presentable. "A special visitor?" the woman asked, brushing her hair. "Mr. Holmes advised he'd be stopping by later tonight." the woman explained. "You look just fine, Ms. Jones. I'll be back around ten for your next dosage." Anthea nodded, thanking the woman for her help and settled back into the pillows on her bed to wait for Mycroft.

Stranger: Flowers were what one brought for a convalescent. Well, that and fruit, but flowers seemed more appropriate at the moment. He managed to find an florist that was still open on his way and bought a small arrangement, nothing ostentatious, but of flowers he'd heard her reference as her favourites before. Thus, Mycroft arrived at the hosptial, dutifully showed his identification to his own plainclothes agents, and knocked on the doorframe of Anthea's room before stepping in. She looked exhausted, and bruised, but she was alive, and that was enough to be thankful for. "I have to say I much prefer you in ballgowns to hospital gowns," he said, by way of greeting, setting the flowers down on her bedside table. "They suit you better."

You: "I knew I forgot to pack something before I left the house this morning." She teased. She looked over at the small arrangement of flowers. "You never cease to amaze me with the details you remember." she said, glancing back up to him. "I don't think I ever told you my favorite flowers were carnations. At least not directly anyway." she patted her bed so that he could rest with her. "I hope the army of people you have outside didn't give you any fuss." she said, shifting so that there was room for him to sit down. "That doctor of yours is just as stubborn as you, you know? I hope you didn't threaten him too much when you advised I was required to stay over night."

Stranger: "I recommended. He merely agreed with me. They're worried about your arm," he replied, sitting next to her. "I was informed on the way over that Charles in in custody and will remain there until his trial can take place. The state is pursuing a list of charges as long as your arm. But enough about him, and that. I've missed your companionship, it's wonderful to see you, even if I wish it were better circumstances."

You: "It will heal." she said, wiggling her nearly covered fingers. "Surgery or not." She nodded, sighing in relief when Mycroft explained that her abuser was in custody. She knew, with Mycroft's hard work, that she was finally safe...finally free of him. She owed the man sitting next to her a great deal for all he'd done for her. She smiled at him, reaching with her free hand to find his own. "I can't tell you how much I've missed you, Mr. Holmes. The dinners, the events, the conversation." She brushed a thumb over his knuckles. "The circumstances hardly make a difference. This..." she said, referencing all that had happened to her. "has happened before, you know?"

Stranger: "Occupational hazard?" he asked, holding her hand between both of his. "You ought to think of going into business for yourself. I would wager you'd have quite a few girls who would be willing to work for you. Sarah thinks the world of you, she's said as much. Then you could do the kind of vetting that ought to be done, and less worries about unscrupulous men running the show. Or you pursue the life of a trophy wife with a besotted, indulgent husband," he said, winking.

You: Anthea couldn't help the wave of relief that washed over her as Mycroft sat with her, joking to lift her spirits. She blushed slightly at his wink. She was always a bit powerless with his charming ways. "I don't know about being a trophy anything, but being the wife of a besotted, indulgent husband sounds like an awfully good retirement plan, don't you think?" she asked. "I could finally put this life behind me. Focus on my own interests, my own hobbies. I could find a quiet little job in a shop some where. I could spoil said husband with home cooked meals, massages and lazy Sunday mornings."

Stranger: "That sounds absolutely lovely, what a lucky sod he would be," Mycroft agreed, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. "And an excellent retirement plan."

[toldnews-blog]

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/sports/its-important-to-have-the-right-balance-in-the-game-and-in-life-cheteshwar-pujara/

It's important to have the right balance in the game, and in life: Cheteshwar Pujara

Cheteshwar Pujara is the ice water that runs through the red-hot veins of the Indian Test team. It was his calming influence in the heat of the battle which saw India clinch its first-ever Test series in Australia with a 2-1 margin earlier this year. With 521 runs in four Tests and an eye-popping average of almost 75 (including three 100-plus scores), Pujara was the peg on which India built its historic edifice Down Under.

During his visit to the TOI Mumbai office last Saturday, the 31-year-old displayed the same tranquility while fielding some tough questions-on his batting strike rate, being dropped from the Test XI against England and his yo-yo test results. He agreed on the need to incentivise Test cricket, calling it the purest form of the game. The accolades for his batting notwithstanding, Pujara said he had a lot more to show to the world. He also laid stress on having the right balance in life, saying a professional sportsperson should be focused on the game but when there are no games, he needs to have another life too.

After finishing his 75-minute chat with the TOI Sports team, Pujara was waiting for his car to escort him back to the airport when he was mobbed by a few fans who requested him for pictures and selfies. We asked him, “Cheteshwar, Australia ke pehle ye hota tha?”. “Kabhi Nahin” was his blunt answer.

Excerpts from an interview where he talks about Kohli, Ranji Trophy and home…

Have your feats in Australia sunk in?

It was a special series for me personally as well as the team. All the players said that this is the most special overseas win. We have a young team and none of the team members had the experience of winning an overseas Test series. But we want to get better and stay at No.1. We don’t want to get carried away.

When you landed in Australia, people were looking at Virat as the main batsman and suddenly you stood up and dominated the series…

Everything changed after the first innings (in Adelaide). Whenever you go for a big tour, preparation is important. I prepared very well. Then I just tried to execute my skills and I knew what the bowlers could do because I had been there in 2014. I had faced Lyon, Starc and Hazlewood in 2014. Cummins was the only new addition to their bowling lineup. But I had faced him in India in 2017 too. I knew their strategies and what line and length they would bowl. I just wanted to bat normally. We were in deep trouble in the first Test when we were 40 for 4. I thought something special is needed to win this Test and I knew that I just had to bat through the first two sessions and didn’t think about anything else. And when we lost Ashwin, I thought that I would have to accelerate at some point since I was batting with tailenders. I was really pleased with the kind of shots that I played.

You played more positively…

The situation demanded that. When you are batting with the tail, you always have to play your shots. There is a perception about me that I don’t play too many shots, but I try and not play them until the situation demands.

Did you make technical changes to your stance and grip?

Not my grip, but some changes to my stance and some other things. I don’t want to talk about them because bowlers will prepare accordingly and plan.

Your father (Arvind) was unwell during the Australia series and was undergoing a heart procedure. How tough was it for you to focus?

Before the surgery, our family doctor told me not to worry about anything and to just focus on cricket. Dr Patil was the guy who did his bypass five years ago. He assured me that there wouldn’t be any complication in his procedure. My father too asked me to just focus on my game. I was lucky that my wife was there with him. She also told me to just focused on my game as we had an important game the next day (Sydney Test). I was confident that he will be fine. But when I was walking in to bat on Day One, it was not easy. I was waiting for the end of the day so that I could quickly message my wife and check on him. I am glad I could still focus. Luckily, I am a tough cricketer mentally.

Can you tell us how tough it is to play in Australia?

They’re very strong. They’re well-aware of all the conditions … and their bowlers always have a very good plan to get the batsman out in their conditions. So, they’re well-prepared and they know what they’re doing. Even their crowd will always support them.

Even their media…

Yes … everything. Even their media is always supporting their team. If you make any error, they always let the opponents know. So, as an Indian player, if there’s something wrong, or even if there is a minor discussion in the team, and if their media person gets to know, then they’ll always go behind that player. It’s part of their strategy, which we understand. There’s a little bit of sledging which is going on. But luckily, I’m someone who doesn’t get affected. In fact, I get motivated when they try and sledge me.

Do you remember any instance when the Aussies tried to intimidate you?

There were many instances but I remember the first Test. Nathan Lyon and Tim Paine tried to sledge me. They almost felt that the game was over when we were 40 for four, they thought that we’ll be bowled out for 150-160. And even later on, I think in the third or fourth Test, they were trying to sledge me but at the same time they started laughing in the end. Lyon came and told me: ‘Aren’t you bored of batting now? You’ve scored so many runs.’

Is that Lyon remark the best sledge?

Yes. I never thought that he’ll say such a thing. And then when we were playing against Australia in the third Test in Ranchi in 2017, one of the players came and told me ‘Now if you don’t get out, we’ll have to ask for wheelchairs.’ I was batting on 170-plus. That’s the best sledge I remember from an Aussie player.

Josh Hazlewood said that yours was the most precious wicket for the Aussies, and not Kohli’s. What’s your reaction to that?

I wasn’t following any of their comments. I got to know after the Test that he had said that. I had mixed feelings. Hazlewood probably said I’m a prized wicket because I was performing well. He had bowled against me even in India in 2017 and knew that getting me out was challenging. It was a special comment. But as a cricketer you have mixed feelings, because you also want your players to play well.

Is Adelaide your best knock?

Yes, for sure. Because it came in a winning cause.

After your performance in Australia, where does all the talk about intent and strike rate go?

People have realized what’s required to perform well in Test cricket. People started appreciating the way I was batting, not just the Indian team management. Everyone has realized that there are different methods of playing this format. And because of white ball cricket, there’ve been players who’ve been playing many shots … they’ve been very aggressive. I still respect that. When talk about intent and strike rate was going on, I just kept believing in myself, in my ability. I actually don’t get worried about what people are saying. Sometimes you just need to do the right thing for the team.

Pujara autographs the December 28, 2018 sports edition of Toldnews that captured his feat of scoring a century in the Boxing Day Test in Melbourne.

This mindset of batting long, how did you inculcate that from so early on in your career?

If I’ve won matches for any first-class team or the Indian team and contributed in a winning cause, you know that this is how games can be won, so you become even more confident. If you see Rahul Dravid, Sachin Tendulkar, VVS Laxman, they have been very classical. Obviously Tendulkar was a different player, he liked to dominate, but there have been other players who have played Test cricket the way it has been played. Even Tendulkar, when the situation demanded, has scored just 50 runs in 150 balls, so there is nothing wrong in that. You just need to understand what situation you are playing in and bat accordingly.

You are part of a side whose captain is very aggressive. You are someone who is very calm. Is there a risk of a personality clash?

Not at all. Ultimately, he (Kohli) also understands what is required to win. Many times I’ve given him suggestions and he has been more than willing to accept them. He might have a different personality but that’s his nature and that is how he should be. There’s nothing wrong in that. He can behave the way he wants to as long as he respects the game. He hasn’t been disrespectful to anyone else. Sledging is something which he likes at times. And there is nothing wrong in that. He also respects my nature.

How do you react when you see guys like Rishabh Pant playing the shots he does?

I laugh about it. Sometimes I get worried and say ‘what is he trying to do?’ But over a period of time, I’ve realized that you still need to respect them and their style because Pant has come from white-ball cricket and we’ll have to give him some time to understand that if you want to play Test cricket, yes, you have to be attacking, which is his natural game, but at the same time, understand what is the right time to attack and when he cannot.

Growing up, your dad was really strict with the way you played. Do you ever regret that being too technically correct has sometimes not helped you establish yourself in white-ball cricket?

Not at all. My father always used to tell me to play according to the merit of the ball. And it’s not as if I wasn’t allowed to play any lofted shots. But he made sure that if I played a lofted shot, I had to execute it in a manner where it goes over the top. It should not just pop up in the air where someone can take a catch even in a practice session. Not many people have seen my white-ball cricket. But the moment I play lofted shots, I always execute it in the manner where I get a four or a six. But in Test cricket it is not required as you are taking extra risk and risking giving your wicket away.

Your father has often spoken about how flawlessly he has seen you bat in the nets. It’s his wish that the world should see you bat like that. Would you say your performance in Australia fits the description that your father talks about?

Not completely. I have many more things to show the world. Obviously, I have been working hard on my game. I am still young and I am very sure that it will come at some point. What my father has been telling me has motivated me. It gives me a lot of confidence because sometimes you start doubting yourself. But my father is the one who has always had faith in me and he told me that the world hasn’t seen you the way I have seen you. So don’t doubt yourself. At some point I thought because he is my dad he keeps motivating me then I started hearing things from other big coaches and then I feel what my dad is saying could be right.

Speaking of technique, coach Ravi Shastri recently said that you were left out of the Birmingham Test in England because there was a slight problem with your stance, something that can happen if you are playing continuously in county cricket.

I don’t discuss technical things much. The reason why I was not scoring many runs in county cricket were different. The kind of wickets I was playing on, if you look at the scorecard, the average score was 180-200 and even other batsmen didn’t score runs. There was one game where we had Joe Root, Jonny Bairstow and Adam Lyth, almost a Test line-up and we won despite getting bowled out for 50. County cricket is different especially when you play for Yorkshire up north in April and May. The conditions are so challenging that you might not get a 50 but a useful 30-40 could be crucial. There were times I also got bad decisions. If your time is not right people start thinking ‘oh, he hasn’t scored runs in county cricket.’ But people are not there to watch what is happening over there. It is very easy to say things from a distance.

How has county cricket helped you? Do you feel other Indian batsmen should be encouraged to play in county to improve their game?

County cricket has been really helpful for me personally. Now whether it should be encouraged, I don’t know. I support it because if that’s done, it will be very good especially for our Test cricket. But when the IPL is going on most of our players are playing the tournament. And when IPL finishes it becomes difficult for players who are playing all formats because of workload issues. But if players who are just playing the Test format have time then I am sure they should go and participate in county cricket. Even white-ball specialists who aspire to play Tests should play in county cricket because it needs good technique to score consistently because the conditions that you play in are really challenging.

In the current team, there’s Hardik Pandya, Parthiv Patel, Jasprit Bumrah, Ravindra Jadeja and you who are all Gujarat-based players. Is there a lot of Gujarati being spoken in the dressing room?

(Laughs) Yes, there is. Sometimes we just joke about it and say that everyone will have to learn Gujarati at some stage. But on a funny note when we want to pass some comment on other players who don’t understand, we speak in Gujarati. There’s no sledging but cheerful banter. Even other players respect Gujarati culture and many of them have been to my home so they like Gujarati food so they sometimes ask where is your thepla or some other food.

You came back from Australia and immediately joined the Saurashtra Ranji team. Do you see a player growing up with the kind of culture you have cultivated for yourself?

I see many young talented players with a lot of commitment to domestic cricket. The importance of Ranji Trophy might have decreased a bit because of the IPL but at the same time I’ve seen many players who want to play Ranji, perform well, be recognized for the Indian team whether it’s red-ball cricket or white-ball cricket. A classic example is Mayank Agarwal and Vihari who have come from Ranji and performed well at the international level.

So there is a lot for Keery O’Keefe to see here.

I heard it only 3-4 days later. I read somewhere later that he apologized and that he didn’t mean it. I hope it’s true. I believe that he was just trying to be a little funny and it wasn’t serious. There shouldn’t be any questions on Indian First Class cricket.

Will you inculcate the same values in your daughter as your dad inculcated in you?

It is a tough call. But I will be little more balanced. I will be strict for sure. But at the same time, with all the knowledge, I can strike the right balance. I have always had this argument with my father that ‘you don’t allow me to celebrate any festival and if we have to go out, you don’t allow me because you feel I have to rest’. Over a period of time, he realized that you have to switch off somewhere. You should be focused on the game but when there are no games, you need to have a hobby or play a different sport. Now I play badminton and TT. It is important to have the right balance and that is what I’ll teach my daughter.

What’s your view on the Dukes ball vs the SG Test vs the Kookaburra issue?

I think we should stick to the SG ball in India because in our domestic cricket we play with the SG ball and the player gets used to playing with this ball, whether he is a batsman or bowler. You know what it does with the new ball, with the old ball. So I don’t think we should change at all. The debate was on the quality of the ball. The BCCI has communicated with SG and during the semifinals, we got a different quality of ball. They worked on it and it is better now.

For the kind of pressures that a young cricketer goes through these days, Rahul Dravid wants them to have a back-up career. What is your take?

I completely agree. Now when you see that the young generation is well educated, even the young cricketers are well educated, not just in India, but overseas too. If you are educated, it helps you think better in this game and education is something that I always loved. I am not a graduate, but I want to do an MBA at some stage.

The World Test Championship will begin later this year. Do you think it will revive interest in Test cricket? How excited are you about this?

Not just me. I have spoken to other players and all of them are very excited. We have already started discussing about the format and points system. We don’t have all the details, but we have already discussed about the various possibilities. I am sure Test cricket will get a lot of importance going forward with all the boards thinking about the survival of Test cricket. That is the purest format of the game and it will survive. I have no doubt about it.

Should a player who plays only in Test cricket and does not play IPL get a higher contract?

I agree. I have read things and I am assuming that that is the way forward to promote Test cricket. But at the same time, I also feel that First Class cricket and Ranji Trophy should be given more importance financially. I don’t know what should be the right structure, but players should get enough money even in domestic cricket because that is where Test cricketers are produced and if we can take good care of players playing in Ranji, we will produce more Test players.

You came back from a tough tour of Australia and immediately played in Ranji for Saurashtra.

I always look forward to playing for Saurashtra because of the team atmosphere. Also, because that is where I started playing cricket. I became a Test player just playing for Saurashtra. Whenever I get an opportunity, I never miss it.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Always You Three Year Two

Pairing: Fred Weasley x OC

One 

Author’s Note: Just to keep away any confusion, there are some parts written in third person and they should be either bold or in italics

That summer consisted of hiding up in my room, sending letters to a Cackles and Howler, telling them that I was feeling alright, even though I knew they didn’t believe me, considering the mountains of sweets they sent me. I couldn’t help but feel better every time their odd little owl flew to my window. I also felt a little selfish. There I was, sitting in my enormous room, eating giant meals, and they were the ones sending me treats. That’s why, I made sure they’re owl got back with my gifts of fanged frisbees and a new wizard chess set. Mother always wanted me to chat with her and her friends, but they often grew extremely uncomfortable. One day, mother had a group of women over, all of her pureblood friends whose husbands worked at the ministry. I had just brought in the tea when one of them brought up the topic of the Weasleys, or as she liked to call them, “The disgrace of a pureblood family.”

I had to excuse myself, saying that I had some over break homework to catch up on.  I couldn’t help but wish Draco would talk to me like he used to. Since we rarely left the mansion, Draco and I were all each other had. We would play knights up and down the halls for hours until father scolded us for being so loud.

Now he barely looked at me, only briefly glancing at me at the dinner table whenever I spoke, which wasn’t often. Father wouldn’t even give me that. On a good day, he would respond he would wave off a question with his hand, but  there were many where I was not so lucky.

On one occasion, I found myself fascinated with one of his projects. It had something to do with the school and I just couldn’t stop myself from asking him about it.

“Father, I saw that you’re working on something about Hogwarts for the min-”

“Can’t you see that I’m busy?” he sneered, his lips tightening into a thin line. “I have very important work to do here and I can’t work with your interference.”

It was days like that when I would write to the twins the most, longing for their laughter to fill the hallways of the silent home. So when I caught a glimpse of them while my mother and I were shopping for supplies for my second year at Hogwarts, I had to restrain myself from running across the crowded street and wrapping my arms around the two of them. I could only give them a hidden smile as mother and I walked towards Madam Malkin’s. I laughed as they winked back.

“What’s so funny?” My mother asked, looking around to see what I could possibly be laughing at.

“Oh, I just- I was just thinking about how short this summer has been.”

“It has been hasn’t it?” She mused. “Just think, next year, Draco will be starting his first  at school and you’ll be a teenager.” My eyes widened. Draco. I hadn’t even thought about Draco coming to school. “What is it dear?” Mom asked, noticing my reaction.

“Um… I-” I scanned around for an excuse, finding a barn owl across the street. “I just saw that owl and instantly fell in love with it.”

“We’ll have to get it for you then won’t we.” She smiled and ushered me into Madam Malkin’s.

After we got my robes, we went to Eeylops Owl Emporium and bought the owl I had pointed to. I got near the cage and it started hooting, nipping at my fingers when I tried to pick it up.

“Don’t like me? Get in line.” I thought, giving it a glare. It stopped hooting and I gave it a satisfied smirk. When we were coming out of the store, people crowded around, first years looking for they’re first pet.

“What do you suppose you should name it?” Mother asked, guiding me across the street to get my books. It let out a long, obnoxious hoot.

“How about whiney,” I muttered.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, I said how about Whitney.” I said quickly and the owl nipped at my finger again, but this time it wasn’t as a gesture of annoyance, but more affectionate. “Whitney.” I repeated, running my finger along the bars of the cage. By the time we had gotten through most of our shopping, Whitney and I had developed an understanding of one another.

Fred looked across the street, hoping to see Andy again but no matter how much he searched, he couldn’t find her. George had been more interested in the Broom Shop. It’s not that he didn’t want to see her again, he just didn’t understand why his twin was always so desperate to find her. Fred also never stopped writing her, using every chance he got at home to pull out a quill and paper, which of course left their family suspicious. George had his theory of course, but he didn’t say anything.  Their mother quickly ushered them into Flourish and Blotts for their school books. Feeling defeated, Fred stopped searching for Andy and started looking for the books for their second year.

I had finally convinced my mother that we would find more supplies if we split up, partially hoping to run into the twins again, when I saw them. Their red hair easily stood out in any crowd, which was good since the store was packed with students and their parents. Quickly glancing around to make sure my mother was gone, I squeezed through the crowd of people and tapped Fred on the shoulder.

“Andy!” He exclaimed, quickly wrapping her in a tight hug. “I’ve been looking for you for ages.”

“I couldn’t get away from my mum until now.” I gasped, barely able to breath with in his massive bear hug. “Hello George.” I waved under Fred’s arm. George wiggled his eyebrows at me and flicked Fred in the back of the head.

“What was that for?”

“You might want to let her breath if you want her to be alive for tryouts.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” Fred stepped away with a sheepish grin. I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes  at the two of them.

“Try out for what?”

“Quidditch of course!” George exclaimed and Fred punched him in the ribs.

“Oh no,” I shook my head, “I'm already in enough trouble for being in Gryffindor, I'm not going to try out for the quidditch team!”

“But Andy, you have to! It would be a crime against all wizardkind to deprive us of a chaser like you!” Fred pleaded. “We all saw you in Hooch's class last year. You’re an absolute natural!” I looked down at my feet, trying to hide the blush that was rushing to my cheeks.

“I… I suppose I could give it shot.” I sighed dramatically. Fred beamed and crushed me in another hug. “Freddie.” I groaned.

“Andromeda? Andromeda where have you gone off to?” My mother’s voice rang over the chatter of the crowd.

“Fred, let me go!” I exclaimed and pushed away in a hurry. As I began to shove my way through the crowd of people, I turned back to his pouting face. “I’ll see you on the train.”

The rest of the day was quite boring, but I tried to be happy for mum. She always found enjoyment in shopping sprees, even if they were only for school. I couldn’t help but let my mind fill with the thought that Draco would be in school next year. I wouldn’t be able to keep my friendship with the Weasley’s hidden much longer.

Seeing the castle again filled me with a wonderful sense of security and peace. It’s towers and passages were more of a home to me than my own now. The carriage rocked, being pulled forward by some invisible force. It was interesting to see all of the muggle-borns riding in awe. I wondered what it must have been like, discovering magic for the first time, everything seeming extraordinary instead of just another fact of life. I imagined what my father would have said at that thought, probably very displeased at how interested I was with muggle borns. But for a second, I didn’t care what he would have said. George and Lee rambled on about Quidditch, but Fred just looked at me strangely, not saying a word. Whitney chirped with annoyance in her cage, clearly disapproving of her transportation conditions. As we neared the castle, she seemed to calm down, but was still very displeased with me.

The great hall was as marvelous as ever, and I shuffled to a seat at the Gryffindor table, still not quite used to the stairs and whispers around me. After everyone was seated, the first years scurried in, and I couldn’t help but noticed a group of pure-bloods I recognized pointing at me and snickering. It appeared that Fred noticed as well, as he had scooped a large amount of pudding onto his spoon. Before I realized what he was doing, he pulled the spoon backwards and let go, flinging the pudding right into one of the first year pure-blood’s face, landing directly on his nose. I doubled over in giggles, nearly falling off the bench. They glared and stomped off, eager to be sorted into no doubt Slytherin. I dug into the large dinner before me as the Sorting Hat began it’s song.

I would have listened, of course, if it wasn’t for Fred and George’s constant chatter about their big plan for the beginning of the year prank which I had a feeling they would drag me into. Not that I needed much persuading. I liked the feeling of danger and spontaneity the pranks gave me, not to mention the immense amount of time I got to spend with the twins. I could barely hear as Professor McGonagall began to read off the names of the first years and the hat sorted them into their houses.

Whenever someone was sorted into Gryffindor, the entire table erupted in cheers and couldn’t help but feel like I was truly a part of something.

The first few weeks passed by in a flash, mountains of homework after every day, along with Fred and George’s complaints. Secretly, I loved the smell of the parchment as I scribbled away with my quill, actually hoping after classes that the professor would hand out something as fascinating as what we had had the day before. Of course, I didn’t tell the twins this, since I knew they would tease me for being such a bookworm.

I received letters from my mother once a week, just as she had  promised. I still hadn’t heard from my father or Draco, but I got used to it. The twins were happy to suggest sending my father something… explosive. I was always tempted, but declined every time.

Soon it was time for Quidditch tryouts. My stomach twisted into knots each time someone threw a pass perfectly, or went for a dive, pulling up at the last second. I clutched my  Nimbus 1700 and bit my lip, nervously awaiting my turn. The twins went on together, despite some protest from the other players, but eventually the team captain got tired of arguing with the stubborn twins and allowed them to try for the rolls of beater together.

“Stubborn mules.” The captain muttered as he walked passed me. My jaw dropped when I realized who he was.

“You’re their brother.” I blurted. “Charlie, right?”

“If you think I’m being biased-”

“No, not at all, I just thought the three of you looked similar. I’m Andromeda, by the way.”

“I know who you are.” He said, but it wasn’t with a tone of distaste or irritation. Instead, he seemed to be quite friendly. “What are you going for?”

“Chaser.” I replied shyly. He nodded and watched the twins knock other players off their brooms, hitting the bludger perfectly. “They’re good.”

“I expected them to be. Practiced all summer.”

“They’re really good.” I mutter to myself, watching them aim every hit precisely. I’d never seen them so intense before, but even now they were cracking jokes to each other. They soared down on their brooms excitedly.

“Your up Malfoy.” Charlie said. Fred patted me on the back.

“You’ll be fantastic.” He assured me and I gave him a half-smile before mounting my broom and flying upward, where members of the team were waiting to test me in every way that they could. I took a deep breath and one of them threw me the quaffle. Everything happened at once, two other players zoomed towards me while another flew ahead for me to pass to. I dodge the first player, but the second came faster. Diving down, I swerved and spun trying every direction to try and lose him for a second.

I finally found an opening and turned to the side quickly, sending the boy flying forward, almost into the ground. I tossed the quaffle up to the other chaser and the two of us made our way to the goal posts. One of the players caught up to her, knocking her into a tailspin after she barely managed to throw the quaffle back to me. I went straight for the keeper, looking him dead in the eye before throwing the quaffle directly through one of the goals.

Cheers came from beneath me and I looked down to see Fred and George hooting and hollering like they had just won the World Cup. Charlie was staring up at me, a surprised grin on his face. I took a moment to catch my breath before flying back down to the ground, receiving hugs from the twins and Lee, who had come to watch.

“Did you see that dive? That was spectacular!” George exclaimed.

“Not as cool as when she made that shot. Did you see the look on Wood’s face?” Fred added. “You may be the best second-year Chaser this school has ever seen!” I couldn’t help but blush.

“The team list will be posted later this evening.” Charlie announced, eyeing me proudly. “Be prepared for some surprising new members.”

[myx-h]

A day(0) from reality

An entire day of slumber.

A continuation of dreams

A route of escapism

An attempt to interact w you

An attempt to see you

An attempt to hear you

An attempt to reach you

A place to be with you

🐮24th November 18

The first dream I had was a scene of me wandering outside alone. There was a vivid moment of me getting myself out of “jail” and chanced upon a shopping mall where I did some window shopping. Through this moment she was texting w me and we were chatting happily and goofing about (it was sth similar when we first started knowing each other) She was out w someone else when we were doing this and I remembered telling her I was sad. She told me not to be and that I can hug her as tightly as possible, as long as I want. I smiled in my dream and shortly I woke up.

I found myself waking up and smiling..it didn’t take long before I realized it was a dream but I took awhile to remember why was I being happy. I recalled the reason I was happy, went sombre as it wasn’t real and I drifted back to sleep.

It didn’t take long for the second dream to occur. This time round we were out on a cute little date at suntec. It was perky, pure and there was so much laughter. We wanted to try out this new cafe ending w a flower’s name so we asked the waitress for directions to it. The waitress stated it was where we are and she(b), starting throwing a fit at her but all this time she(b), was smiling and laughing at it. Even at times of anger she was still being genuinely happy. Which made this dream so priceless.(because there was no negative emotions involved) we ordered some chicken wings and tea and then she started to tease me w her leg..there was no other feeling besides being loved despite the context. We smiled, we laughed

I woke up. Realizing everything was just a dream. I covered the sheets of my blanket just like how she alw do so. And closed my eyes

I was in my primary school. We were organizing a football game and we were trying to find players to it. Surprisingly my “friends” start filling up the slots and we were able to start soon. I remembered having soup and was about to tie my shoe laces before we commence the game (i dreamt of this scene many times whereby I will wake up after tying my shoe laces before the whistle blows) I woke up just like always after that scene, but in my dream, my mind was searching for her. My mind was hoping she would be here.

I woke up shortly and she wasn’t here at all. I hugged my pillows tightly and shut back my eyes

The final dream had me appearing right at her door step. Somehow I slipped through her father. She wanted to come out and I was waiting for her. Next imoment I found myself buying chicken rice from her house below. She got a little unhappy cause it was ittle so I offered her a part of mine. We were walking together in a path whereby it split into two roads. In this dream, the both of us were living right beside each other. She didn’t want to head back home and so we embarked on our path where it led to mine. However, I was brought to a next scene whereby we were both at our own places. We were texting and goofing until there was a major accident that occurred below my place. There was a huge tangible electric orb hindering anyone from going up and the risk factor of causing death was really high. I remembered it took awhile before it got rectified. I wrote a long text to tell her what has just happened, how dangerous it was and waited for her response. In my dream, I wanted to tell her something after she replied so I was just waiting for her while chatting w my aunt. I find myself waiting and waiting until I woke up, with regret as I was not able to send it across.

I woke up; and I remembered exactly what I wanted to tell her in my dream. I wasn’t able to convey it to her in my dream..which was regretful when I woke up..but I can convey it to her in reality this time. The three words that I wanted to tell her in my dream was that I miss her