#for the record too i fucking LOVE dorothy

[sweet-rabbit]

general question GW fandom, but as i have not seen the uncensored version of the show, i just wanted to check something... does trowa really and truly do NOTHING to dorothy after finding she had shish-kabobed quatre? like, am i remembering this correctly and am i justified to still be annoyed by it some 20 odd years later??? is it slightly different in the uncensored version outside of high blood content, please, somebody tell me...

[hippiegoth97]

Let Me Make Some Shit Clear

Hey, everybody. I never thought I would have to make a post like this, but here we go. Today I was tagged in a post by the lovely @violetpixiedust (please check out their post about this as well they cover it extremely well) and found out I was mentioned in a 'call-out' post for my Gator Tillman one-shot. The OP of the call-out post didn't have the balls to tag me, and instead listed me with many others and blocked me unprovoked. Here's screenshots of that post. I'll go into my feelings on that in a second. But, take a moment to read through all that.

So, let's set the record straight so nobody misunderstands me.

I do not in any way support MAGA bullshit, or any conservative ideology of any kind. I am a bisexual, leftist, atheist woman who believes in equality, respect, and rights for all.

I do not condone the awful actions of Gator Tillman, or his shit father. My story was very clear on that as well, he's extremely flawed and I thought I made that obvious. I really tried to drive home the fact that he's a product of abuse.

I was rooting for Dorothy Lyon the whole fucking season, because she is a badass woman who has been through too much for one lifetime. I myself am a victim of child abuse which has carried on into my adulthood. I know her. I am her. But I also know, and am, Gator. The OP also completely glazes over the fact that Gator was extremely abused. We see how Roy treats his 'property'. I do not think Gator would have been able to leave the ranch either, unless he got married off. If he left, he would be hunted down too.

Also, Gator knows he did bad things, he was ready to go to jail to pay for them as long as his awful father was kept away from him. Because he FEARED HIM. He was literally a child stuck in a grown man's body, and that is how we sympathize with him. And he killed that poor old woman on accident, I'm sure he took no pleasure in that. And the man in the skirt paid him back triple.

And another thing, it's fanfiction. And for those of you who have been in the trenches as long as I have would know that all kinds of stories get told in this community of ours. Is it always ethical? no. Is it always 100% morally sound? No. Does it explore many taboo subjects through artistic expression? Hell yes. There is a ton of stuff out there that I find repulsive and would never read. I will not say what because it is not my place to censor or judge others, or tell them how to express themselves. I simply focus on the works I do like, and read those. And this is something new fandom culture has seemed to have forgotten. Over and over I see people wringing their hands at smut, or subjects they find triggering, or things society says are wrong. But you're really opening a fucking can of worms when you're calling for the reporting, banning, and censorship of those who think differently than you. That's how you get laws like KOSA that directly target POC and LGBTQ+ content because some think it's 'pervasive' to children. That's how you get laws prohibiting teaching real history and removing diverse books from libraries.

Lastly, I will NEVER, EVER censor myself to please others. I will write whatever the fuck I want. You don't have to like it. That's fine. I learned a long time ago that I'm not to everyone's taste. And I've long since stopped giving a rat's ass about it. I am an artist, and I will continue to create the art that I am passionate about until my last dying breath.

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Dorothea

I can’t believe I’m back! It’s been a little rough these past couple of months but I’m happy to be writing again and hopefully will bring it back to my daily routine! Taylor released a new album so of course I had to write something! I hope you guys enjoy, it’s just a little silly thing.

“We are a failure.”

“We have five Grammys.”

“We are a failure with five Grammys.”

Gavriel snorted at the same time Lorcan threw a piece of paper at Fenrys’s head. Rowan simply sighed, resting his head against the table and letting out a deep groan.

“Why can’t we release the album with twelve songs?” He raised his head, looking at his bandmates. “Every single song we tried to write this past week was absolute shit. I don’t want to shove some lame ass song on our album because my aunt feels like we should have thirteen songs like the last two albums.”

“Yeah, sure.” Fenrys snorted. “Why don’t you go tell Maeve that?”

Vaughan chuckled, putting the drumsticks down and walking to the table where Fenrys, Rowan, and Connall were sitting. Lorcan and Gavriel both sat on the ground nearby, ripping out bad half-finished lyrics from some notebooks.

“We need a vocalist, that’s why he won’t do it.” Vaughan singsonged, sitting by Connall’s side. “We have been trying to write the songs together, why don’t we try something each one of us wrote separately?”

There was a beat of silence. For the five years the band had been together, every single song had been written by all the members. Sometimes two or three of them would do most of the work, but out of their thirty eight songs, there wasn’t one that didn’t have a contribution from all the members. Yeah, they would write their own songs, but it was never really serious or even meant to be used in an album.

And because they weren’t serious or meant to be used in an album, they were either absolute shit or fucking personal.

Rowan held in another groan.

Lorcan shrugged, getting up and sitting by Rowan’s side. Gavriel did the same, sitting on the table head opposite to where Fenrys was.

“Ok, who’s gonna go first?” Gavriel clapped his hands. “Fenrys.”

“Why me?” He squeaked.

“Why not you?” Connall butted in.

“Yeah, why not you?” Vaughan backed his boyfriend.

“Rowan, this is a mutiny against me.” Fenrys turned his head to Rowan, pouting like a child.

Both Rowan and Lorcan smiled sarcastically, and the latter said, “you are not the one in charge. If it was a mutiny, it would be against Rowan.”

“Who asked for the vulture to speak?” Fenrys asked, eyes narrowing at Lorcan.

“Just show us a goddamn song, Fen.” Rowan sighed, rubbing his temples. A few years ago, he had insisted for Gavriel to be the leader of the band. The older man had refused profusely, and Rowan only found out why when he started being the leader.

He was surrounded by adults who had the money and influence of gods but acted like children.

It was like being a mother but without the Mother’s day gifts. No advantages, really.

As instructed, Fenrys presented three songs for the group. And then Vaughan did. And then Connall, Gavriel, and Lorcan.

“I don’t know how to say this politely…” Connall started.

“They are absolute shit.” Lorcan finished.

“Shit is a compliment.” Rowan nodded, letting out a straggled laugh. He scratched the stubble on his cheeks, a small sense of panic rising inside of him. It wasn’t that Rowan was shy— he had let go of his shyness a long time ago—, but that didn’t mean he liked to go around advertising his personal ideas to the world. Some lyrics drafts should remain just that— drafts. Not everything was meant to be heard by everyone. Gathering some of his courage along with the knowledge that an acceptable song was an absolute necessity, he sighed. “I might have something.”

“What is it?” Gavriel said calmly at the same time Lorcan grunted. “You have something and you let us go through the torture of listening to Fenrys’s ideas?”

“You hurt my feelings like that, man.”

Rowan ignored both Lorcan and Fenrys, turning to Gavriel. “It’s about a girl.”

The room was dead silent.

Rowan knew he wasn’t really the dating type, much less the type to write songs about love, but the absolute silence was a little offensive.

“Ok…” Vaughan said, a scary smile on his face. “That came out of nowhere.”

“You can love someone?” Connall asked.

“You can feel emotions?” Fenrys deadpanned after his twin finished his sentence.

Lorcan snorted and Rowan saw Gavriel biting the inside of his cheeks. Absolute regret washed over his body immediately, but it was too late to back down.

Rowan tried to play it cool, keeping any emotions out of his face. He shrugged, opening a notebook and tapping a pen against it. “Not anyone I’ve seen in years. I don’t even remember her real name.”

The Cadre exchanged looks.

“When I was a kid my parents used to send me to this summer camp. From ages six to thirteen there was this girl who also went every single summer. She was a year younger, but we were friends. Barely talked during the rest of the year, maybe exchanged a letter or two.” He continued, eyes skimming through the lyrics in front of him. “Childhood crush and all. I know her name started with an A… Maybe an E? The counselors used to call her Dorothy, and I thought it was Dorothea. Called her that for two months until she corrected me. The nickname stuck between us, so yeah, Dorothea is all I have. I was thirteen when I stopped going, so she was twelve. Probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“Oh, that’s cute… Tragic young love and all.” Fenrys was smiling like an idiot, and Rowan rolled his eyes. He had never talked to anyone about Dorothea, not even his parents, not even when he was a kid. Life at home was shit during the whole year, but the summers? They were for late nights, swimming in the lake, running in the forest. They were sunny, and easy, and the few good memories he had from childhood. And she was in all of those memories— the girl and that fucking dog. Dorothea was the purest thing about his childhood, and he never wanted to have her memory stained by telling about her to his parents or school friends.

“Let me see this.” Vaughan said, taking Rowan’s notebook before Rowan could react. His friend’s pitch black eyes skimmed rapidly through the page, mouth opening slowly. “Holy shit.”

“It’s shit?” Lorcan asked.

“No, I mean holy shit as in this is amazing.” Vaughan looked up, brows raised. He passed the notebook to Gavriel, making both Lorcan and Connall move closer to read it too.  “You had this song for two years now according to the date on the edge of the page. Why didn’t you share?”

Rowan cleared his throat, regret just growing more and more. “We write every song together.”

“If every song you write is like this, then we should probably let you take care of this task from now on.” Lorcan said, taking the notebook and throwing it to Fenrys.

Fenrys’s was probably Rowan’s best friend. They knew each other for the longest, and even though Rowan would never admit it out loud, Fenrys was the closest thing he had to a family and his approval was important.

Fen raised his head from the notebook, dark eyes shinning as a huge smile broke his face in half. “We’re recording this. Today.”

Connall and Vaughan laughed, and Lorcan clapped Rowan’s back. “Good job, birdie.”

Rowan didn’t know exactly what he was feeling, but somewhere between absolute fright and excitement could probably describe it.

—————

“Rowan Whitethorn!” A female voice rang through the room, and every member of the Cadre winced.

“Your aunt is gonna kill you.” Connall said, face washed with fear.

Maeve Whitethorn was the scariest woman to ever walk this earth, and so Rowan didn’t think Connall was completely wrong about that.

And yet, when Maeve entered the room she was…

“What the fuck.” Fenrys blurted out.

Smiling?

“She smiles.” Fenrys loudly whispered to Lorcan, receiving a punch to his arm.

“You, my nephew, are a fucking genius.”

“Yeah, ok, what the fuck.” Vaughan asked from the drums.

“What did I do?” Rowan asked cautiously, afraid that his aunt had actually gone insane.

“Dorothea, that’s what you did!”

“People liked the song then?” Gavriel asked from the couch. “It was a filler song, but good to know that’s not forgotten.”

“Oh, you’re not understanding.” Maeve laughed. All the boys’ jaws went slack. “People are eating that song up. And I mean trending everywhere, top in every single chart… Everyone loves Dorothea.”

“But how?” Lorcan frowned. “We didn’t advertise it.”

“Because people love a real life story of love.”

With that comment, Rowan’s body went taunt.

What the fuck.

No one in the band had told anyone what the song was about, nor that it was a real thing. For all the world knew, it was just another song that the band wrote together. And that’s how it should have stayed. Rowan hated being the center of attentions, and hated even more when his personal life was the topic at matter.

Dorothea had been his secret for so long, and he really thought that the song would be a secretive way to tell the story to the world.

If people knew it was real, if people knew anything about it, it was obviously not as secretive as he thought it was gonna be.

Shit, Dorothea wasn’t even her real fucking name. There’s no way anyone could know that.

Unless…

“Wait, she heard the song?” Rowan blurted out, a mix of emotions making his stomach drop. That also wasn’t on his plans.

Fenrys’s eyes widened. “Dorothea came forward?”

“Holy shit.” Vaughan let out a nervous laugh. Connall put a hand over his mouth, and both Lorcan and Gavriel looked at Rowan.

The boys knew how Rowan wanted this song to go. Knew he didn’t want the real story to go around like this. Because when stories went around like this, people would start making theories, and harassing the girl, and just shoving themselves in situations that did not concern them. Rowan loved his fans, loved the world he was in, but he was also the first to admit how brutal it could be. It would only take one slip up, one fact about this girl that the media didn’t like, for the whole world to attack her.

Rowan tried to protect her from his fucked up life during childhood just to throw her to the sharks later on.

And yet, another part of his panic had nothing to do with the media and the fans. It had to do with her. What if she hated the song? What of she didn’t want that story to be told? What if she wished for a calm life where her presence would never be noticed by the media? Rowan couldn’t stop thinking about her reaction, if she had remembered him the first time she listened to it or if it took a while.

He felt like his own body was trying to suffocate itself.

Fuck, he was gonna vomit. Or maybe pass out. Shit maybe even pass out on a pool of his vomit.

Ok, that was disgusting.

“It wasn’t the girl who came forward, it was her roommate. Posted a video online and then boom! Global success.” Maeve said, not even noticing her nephew’s growing panic. “Wait, I’ll show you the video!”

Fenrys grabbed Rowan’s shoulder, sitting by his side on the couch as Maeve plugged her phone to the projector. Lorcan sat between Rowan and Gavriel on the couch, and Connall and Vaughan sat on the ground. All of them looked expectantly at the screen, waiting for the bomb to drop.

He was gonna see her again.

After sixteen years.

Shit, it was getting hot inside that fucking room.

The screen popped up, and a beautiful woman with green eyes and long dark brown hair showed up.

“That’s not her.” Rowan blurted out. She could have dyed her hair, facial expression changed over the years but… That wasn’t the girl he met during the summer. No, he would recognize her eyes anywhere, and they sure as hell weren’t green like his.

Maeve rolled her eyes. “I told you it was her roommate who came forward. Now watch.”

The video started playing, and the strong and excited voice of the smiling woman on the screen started sounding through the speakers. “Ok, so I was driving home the other day, listening to the new album of the Cadre when the song Dorothea came up, right? And I thought that it was a little strange for the Cadre to put a rerecording of a song on the album since they had never done it before.”

The girl started to walk around her apartment, excitement lacing every single word.

“But then I found out that Dorothea is not a rerecording. But that doesn’t make sense, because I was a hundred percent sure I already knew this story. I don’t know any Dorothea, and I sure as hell don’t know Rowan Whitethorn, so it made no sense that I already knew the story being told in the song.” The girl let out a laugh, entering a room inside her apartment. “For days I would listen to that fucking song and keep asking myself why I feel like I know it. It’s not from a book, a movie…”

She started pulling out a box from under the bed, smile widening.

“And so yesterday my roommate asked me to grab an old box of VHS under her bed when I saw this box.” She filmed a huge box in front of her, the lid barely containing all the photos inside. “And that’s when I remembered where I know Dorothea from.”

The girl laughed again, opening the lid and running her hand through the pictures. “I knew the story because she had told me years ago. Dorothea wasn’t her fucking name, it was her nickname.”

As if in slow motion, the brunette took out an old picture from inside the box. Rowan felt all the air leaving his lungs as he stared at it. The picture was a little blurry, but there was no mistaking it. It was eight year old him in swim trunks, his arm over the shoulder of a shorter seven year old blond girl. Her biking was pink and full of frills, her wet blond hair sticking to her shoulders. She was holding a small black puppy, the dog obviously trying to wiggle himself out of the picture. The both stood before the lake, smiling brightly, a bunch of teeth missing. The girl in the video turned the picture, and right there, written in a fading blue pen was what made the song so famous.

Dorothea and Roro and Toto. Summer of 2000.

The girl in the video turned the camera back to her, smile not leaving her lips. “She told me that the nickname was Dorothea because the counselors used to call her Dorothy. As in the Wizard of Oz. The dog’s name was Toto, and so she was Dorothy. But then, he understood it wrong and just called her Dorothea. And…”

“What are you doing in my room?” A sweet, soft, and low voice interrupted whatever the brunette was going to say. She let out a yelp, letting the phone fall.

And the screen went black.

The room was silent for a few minutes after the video was over.

“Well shit.” Fenrys broke the silence. “What are the chances of her being as beautiful as her roommate?”

Lorcan reached behind Rowan to hit Fenrys on the back of his head.

“We should put a gag in his mouth.” Gavriel sighed.

“Oh, kinky.” Fenrys smiled seductively and winked at Gavriel. If it weren’t for the absolute shock raging inside of him, Rowan would have laughed.

“Is there a video of her?” Rowan quietly asked his aunt.

She looked at him for a second too long before nodding. “Just a second, there might be one. She isn’t really one for the cameras, but I do think she showed up in a Halloween video.”

She wasn’t one for the cameras.

Shit, shit, shit.

She wasn’t one for the cameras and Rowan had made her existence global knowledge.

Maeve took a few seconds to try to find the video, smiling again once she found it.

“This is still fucking weird. Your aunt can smile.” Fenrys said, and Rowan was glad for the words. Everything was happening too fast and too slow at the same time, and Fenrys’s stupid comments were a good way of centering himself. Looking at his friend, Rowan realized that Fenrys knew exactly what he was doing. “I thought she had lost the ability when she was, like, five or something.”

“That would imply that Maeve was ever a child.” Vaughan whispered from the ground.

Connall snorted, and Lorcan tried to contain a smirk.

“Here it is!” Maeve announced.

As if the screen was a magnet, all the eyes in the room snapped back to it. They all watched the screen expectantly, and Rowan thought Fenrys was even bouncing on his seat.

A petite woman appeared, clad in a black dress that matched her pitch black hair and eyes. If Rowan wasn’t so distracted, maybe he would have noticed Lorcan’s low, and yet sharp, intake of breath.

The pale girl was in the middle of two taller guys, one with inky black hair with a crown on top of it, sapphire eyes contrasting with the blood red of his cloak, and the other one with golden blond hair under a pirate hat. The three of them stared at a tall woman dressed in what Rowan supposed was a reaper costume. The white blond hair and golden eyes made her perfect for the part.

“He’s a cunt.” The reaper girl said, picking her nails with a scythe Rowan wasn’t absolutely sure was fake. The girl behind the camera— the brunette that recorded the video that exposed the real meaning of the song, Rowan supposed— chuckled as the two other guys exchanged a humorous look.

The petite woman smiled, obviously in agreement with her friend. “He is, but that’s ok. Did Tam end our three year relationship, six hours before Halloween, through the phone? Yes. Were we planning on a couple’s costume and I was left like an idiot wearing an Evie O’Connell costume with no Rick? Yes. But that’s ok because I have…”

“Me.” That same low and soft voice filled the room again, and as if she was always the center of attentions, all heads in the video snapped to her. Even though she wasn’t on camera yet, Rowan could hear the smile in her voice.

The blond guy rolled his eyes. “You have a thing for dramatic entrances, Aelin.”

Aelin.

Her name was Aelin.

“Reason why I live, actually. But come on. Don’t I deserve a dramatic entrance when I look like this? I look rather fucking dashing as Rick O’Connell, don’t I?”

“She does.” The guy with inky black hair nodded towards the blond guy.

“Don’t encourage her.” The other grunted, shaking his head but obviously smiling. “If my cousin’s head grows a little bit more she won’t be able to pass through the door.”

And then, as if time itself had stopped that second, the camera turned to Aelin and all oxygen left the room.

“Fucking shit.” Connall breathed, and Rowan saw Fenrys’s jaw going slack from the corner of his eye.

In his defense, so did Rowan’s.

The woman— Aelin— was exactly what she had just called herself. Fucking dashing.

Golden strawberry hair pulled back into one of those high, terribly made buns, slightly tan skin, and bright blue eyes, Aelin was every inch dashing she claimed to be. The costume was exactly what Brendan Fraser had wore the majority of the movie, and hell if it didn’t fit her perfectly. Aelin had grown to be the most beautiful woman Rowan had ever seen, and he felt his heart doing laps inside his chest just like when he was younger.

Well, fuck.

“If she was Rick O’Connell in the movies I would have probably paid more attention.” Fenrys muttered, dodging another hit from Lorcan. “What?! Look at her. The girl looks like the offspring of an angel and a supermodel.”

Aelin grinned, straight white teeth biting her lower lip. “Thank you, Dorian. And, I don’t need encouragement, Aedion. I am quite capable of being narcissistic on my own.”

The girl with blond white hair chuckled. “You were supposed to be a reaper with me.”

Aelin fake pouted. “Elide, my dearest cousin,” Aelin said pointedly, eyes narrowing at Aedion. Elide, the petite girl dressed as Evie, bit her cheeks to keep a smile in. “Needed me. Put a crown on top of your pretty head and do a couple’s costume with your boyfriend, Manon.”

Dorian sighed. “I tried convincing her.”

Manon simply crossed her arms. “I don’t do couple’s costume.”

Aelin shrugged nonchalantly. “Pity.”

And then, much to Rowan’s absolute panic and fascination, Aelin turned directly to the camera. She was obviously going to talk to the girl recording, but Rowan could barely hear the words as her full face came into view. Aelin was beautiful, but Aelin staring straight at you? Breathtaking.

“Don’t you think it’s a pity, Lys?” Aelin asked innocently, but a smirk graced her lips.

The smile in Lys’s voice was obvious. “Oh, yes. A pity.”

Aelin smiled, turning to Elide with a raised brow. Her cousin gave a less vicious version of Aelin’s smile. “Such a pity.”

It was obviously some inside joke, because Manon grunted, rolling her eyes. “Are we going or not?”

Aelin rich laugh drowned the room before the video ended.

“Well.” Vaughan said after a few beats of silence.

“Well.” Gavriel agreed.

“Well.” Another voice came from the door, and Rowan had to keep a displeased grunt in as Erawan walked into the room. The man was smiling sarcastically, eyeing the frozen image on the screen hungrily. Aelin had thrown her head back, mouth half open as she laughed. “Would you be pissed if I asked her hand in marriage, Rowan? Quite a beautiful girl, your Dorothea.”

Rowan would have gotten up and punched Erawan if Fenrys hadn’t literally sat on his lap before he could do anything. His friend turned to Erawan with a smile on his lips. “Unfortunately, Ewew, I believe the lady in question must prefer to stick to humans. She doesn’t really look like the I-do-demons type.”

Despite the obvious tension in the room, Connall took out his phone and took a picture of Fenrys sitting on Rowan’s lap. Lorcan had his arm behind both Gavriel and Rowan, and Vaughan was sitting in between Rowan and Lorcan’s leg. “You guys look like a strange ass family. This is gonna be this year’s Christmas card. I’ll photoshop myself in.”

Lorcan snorted, shaking his head before looking at Erawan. “Let’s leave the girl out of this, alright? If any of us wanted to use her for advertisement, we would have contacted her ourselves.”

“I’m your PR.” Erawan smiled. He was, a fact that the whole Cadre regretted. All pf them waited excitedly for the day Erawan’s contract expired.

Maeve was hard and cold, Erawan was a straight up asshole. Not even his aunt could put up with him for long.

“A very unfortunate fact you never let us forget, Earwax.” Fenrys said, nodding diplomatically. “Very, very unfortunate.”

“I don’t want her involved in any of this shit.��� Rowan finally said something, voice low and threatening. Just the thought of throwing his childhood friends to the wolves that surrounded his life made his stomach turn. “You are my PR, so do your job. Create a distraction, release some rerecording, book us some interviews… I don’t care, but I want the focus away from her. I don’t want her involved in anything, Erawan. I mean it.”

The room was silent, tension threatening to suffocate anyone who breathed deep enough.

To Rowan’s surprise, and some gratefulness, Maeve took a step forward. She unplugged her phone from the projector, and Aelin’s image disappeared. “I believe it’s better if we keep the girl out of this. She’s very low profile, private accounts on both Twitter and Instagram. Dragging her into spotlight might not be a good option, specially since we don’t know how she behaves, what it would do to the image of the band. We have a love story, let the fans speculate, do some theories. Everything will die down in a month and she’ll be able to continue with her life.”

For all her harshness, all her coldness, Maeve wasn’t a bad aunt. She started taking care of Rowan when he was fifteen, and although they never had a close relationship, Maeve knew how to help him whenever he really needed it. It was the reason why he asked her to be the band manager, despite her obvious dislike of the human race. She was smart, cunning, and, at that moment, was using both qualities to keep Aelin out of what would become a huge mess.

“If we bring her in, there is nothing to terrorize. Her personality will be real, not something fans can stipulate and mold to their liking. She’s young and private, throwing her to the media would be a carnage. Leave Aelin out of this.” Gavriel tried to resonate with Erawan, voice low and calm as always.

Erawan sat on a table, a fake hurt expression overtaking his features as he sighed. “If only you had told me that before.”

The pit inside Rowan’s stomach grew.

“Before what.” Vaughan grunted.

“Before I contacted the girl.” Erawan smiled, as Rowan felt all the oxygen leave the room. He stared straight into Rowan’s eyes, a cruel smile overtaking his lips. “Would you like to see your childhood friend again, Whitethorn?”

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Tags

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[jessicajonesrp]

Public warning

Patricia Walker does not do well with lack of control. It’s a tendency passed down from life with Dorothy Walker, easily the most controlling non super-powered person she had ever met. For the first eighteen years of her life, most of Trish’s actions, from her clothes to her work to her every public word and expression, had been chosen for her by Dorothy, and the only real choice she had for herself was whether to give in and make life easier for herself or rebel and suffer Dorothy’s wrath.

 Her desire for the control she had lacked had left her with severe insecurity, eating disorders, and self medication through drugs, all issues she struggled with for a good ten years before channeling her need for control into efforts at bettering herself and helping others. She had finally reached a place where life was stable, heading in a direction Trish could be content with, if not fully satisfied.

 And then Kilgrave happened. First to Jessica only, without Trish having any idea why her best friend had suddenly vanished without contact for eight months, and then with the shattered mess it left her once Trish did know and struggled to support her. Then to Trish herself, when she, against Jessica’s orders and even pleas, involved herself in trying to draw him out and capture him.

 Trish knew she had not suffered anywhere near the level that her sister had from Kilgrave, but it was still enough to make her feel sick and cold when she remembered. She still occasionally had nightmares of his cold, snapping voice, telling her to shoot herself in the head, telling her to kill people she had never met before out on the docks. She still shivered in disgust when she remembered the feeling of his hands on her face, his lips on her skin, the terrible ambivalence of wanting to kiss him, enjoying it, even as every part of her true self screamed out in horror. And she could never forget Simpson’s hands around her throat, choking her nearly to the point of death at Kilgrave’s command.

 She had hated and feared the man from the first moment Jessica managed to stutter out what he had done to her. No, she had hated him before then, when she first saw the unnaturally shocked, broken state of her sister when she finally broke free from his initial control. Anyone who could hurt Jessica so deeply and so permanently earned her hatred without needing to know their identity.

 And now he was back. Again. As much as Trish feared for herself, for being used or even killed in his obsessive pursuit of Jessica, she feared even more that Kilgrave would damage Jessica even more deeply, that he would continue to pile up dead and damaged bodies around himself and place the blame at her feet. Jessica didn’t need this, not again. And if Trish could do anything to help or stop it, it would help her feel just a little bit more of a sense of the control she knew she didn’t really have.

 She made her way to her recording studio after first sending some of Heroes for Hires guards ahead of her to thoroughly check out the studio for any signs of danger from Kilgrave or any of his like, giving them a code phrase to use to insure that they would be able to alert her if he did show up and control them or others.  Trish had already called ahead to insure that all people were thoroughly searched for any possible weapons and passed at least twice through the metal detectors already installed before being allowed entrance. After receiving the all clear, she went, Jessica insisting on accompanying her, via one of Danny’s cars to the studio, passing through the checks put in place and heading straight to her recording studio and instructing the techs to set up for a live broadcast. She was aware of Jessica skulking behind her, hands shoved in her pockets, as Trish rapidly read from the speech she had just finished churning out.

 “Good afternoon New York City and beyond, this is Trish Walker with an urgent report coming to you from Trish Talk, by way of myself and all our associates at Heroes for Hire. Soon, a follow up broadcast will be coming your way via Channel 5 News with more information, but please, listen very carefully to this announcement for your safety and those of your loved ones.”

 Trish paused, swallowing, and snuck a glance back at Jessica’s impassive expression before facing the mic again and continuing. “Most of you may remember the terrible events of last summer, when the man whom called himself Kilgrave provided mass terror and destruction in our city and in far too many of our own lives and homes. It is to my great sorrow that I inform you that Kilgrave is not, as was believed, deceased. Kilgrave has made personal contact with myself and with-“

 Jessica made violent throat slashing motions behind her that Trish saw out the corner of her eye, and Trish edited her intended words smoothly.

 “With myself and my colleagues, and we have evidence to support that this is no hoax. Please be aware of yourself and those you love at all times. Know their whereabouts, establish coded phrases and patterns of behavior in order to test out the level of control the people in your life may have at any given moment. Kilgrave is a white male with a British accent, last known to have short medium brown hair and brown eyes. He tends to dress in a professional manner, especially in dark purple suits and ties, and he is considered a threat of the level of nuclear war. Do not approach him should you see him; instead do all you can to get away and call in our hotline at Trish Talk or Heroes for Hire to report a possible sighting. If you suspect that someone you know may be controlled, treat them in the same manner, do all you can to subdue them without causing permanent harm to them if necessary. Kilgrave’s powers last up to 12 hours, so do not under any circumstances try to reason with anyone you suspect to be controlled. If at all possible, wear ear plugs or head phones or listen to loud music when necessary to go out in public. Kilgrave cannot gain control of those whom are not within his direct path and whom cannot hear his commands. He-“

 “Stop,” a voice suddenly came over the ear, and both Trish and Jessica jumped, recognizing the voice after a moment as not Kilgrave’s, but female and American. Trish quickly identified the voice a second later as belonging to one of her tech support assistants, Chloe Ash. “The information is over.”

 “What the fuck?” Jessica hissed, shooting Chloe a vicious glower and striding towards her quickly. “Will you shut up, even I know to shut the hell up on a live recording, over something this damn important!”

 Trish tried to recover, giving a somewhat forced chuckle and speaking over them. “I apologize, there are some technical difficulties, but if you’ll bear with me I will make sure you all get the information you need. As I was saying, Kilgrave cannot-"

 “This information is too much, this recording is over,” Chloe repeated, more loudly and forcefully, standing up and taking the headphones off of her ears. She fairly shouted out her next few words, speaking loudly enough that Trish’s words were drowned out.

 “Loyal listeners, you will now hear the sound of a suicide by Chloe Ash, Patsy Walker’s employee. More are to follow in the names and as a direct result of the avoidance and rejection of Jessica Jones. Goodbye, loyal listeners, and know that Kilgrave is a patient man.”

 She head butted Jessica in the face when Jessica grabbed for her arm, ducking under her and weaving to the other side of Trish. As Trish leaped up, expecting Chloe to grab or try to harm her, the young woman instead ran to a small cabinet against the walls containing little more than sound equipment and various office supplies. Throwing it open, she grabbed a pair of scissors from its contents, opened the blades wide, and closed them around the front of her throat.

 She made no sound, showed no pain as she dragged the scissor blades more deeply into her skin, sawing back and forth to make as rough and deep a wound as possible. The live recording now picked up the sound of Trish’s horrified scream, her outcries of “Oh god, no, no!” as blood spattered in a wide arc just short of reaching her, and the noisy scuttle of multiple feet moving towards Chloe as others tried to reach her before it was too late.

 Jessica got to her first and wrenched the scissors out of her hand, breaking them in half and throwing them down so Chloe could not get them and use them any further. Tearing off her oversized sweatshirt, she pressed it against the woman’s throat, grimly noting how the blood immediately stained through its thick material and onto her fingers, how it had sprayed hot and thick over her arms and chest before she could touch her at all. The woman didn’t try to speak, likely couldn’t have, but she was losing all color in her face, her eyes already growing glassy and lifeless, and as Trish sputtered and tried not to vomit or pass out in the background, Jessica held onto the almost useless bloodied sweater, as though she could somehow keep the woman alive just by holding on tight enough.

 It didn’t matter. Within another minute the woman was clearly dead, limp and unmoving under Jessica’s hands, and she could hear the shrill noise of sirens in the background. Jessica let her drop to the ground, stumbling back and nearly yelling out loud when she bumped into Trish and felt her hands latch onto her arm.

 “We have to go, now,” she mumbled, giving her sister’s arm a rough tug.” Before someone else of his comes through in the aftermath.”

 Even as she lead Trish out of the room and building, she could still hear the dying woman’s words echo in her mind. More are to follow, as a direct result of the avoidance and rejection of Jessica Jones…

[harpersplay]

4x14 Thoughts

I touched on this before, but context fucking matters. Even though it erased Annie's class & Ruby's race while using Beth's momness and whiteness as a shield, the speech in 1x02 works because it's life and death. It works because these women have just been thrown into this scary world and Beth makes a desperate but savvy (she picks up on Rio being more than just a gangbanger and appeals to his business side) plea. She uses what she can (Annie has never brought orange slices to any game ever, let's be real) and saves the day. And yet we see how terrified she was even after it worked. IT WAS AN UNREAL SITUATION THAT FELT REAL. Beth's recent "boss bitch" moments do not work because it's just her fully leaning into the smug entitled white lady role. I feel like too many fans ignore 2x13-3x02. The threat of Rio (and the FBI) was GONE as far as Beth knew. But she decided to do crime. Ruby was stealing from her workplace. Beth was putting Dorothy and Lucy at legal risk by using her store and her work, respectively, to commit crimes without telling them. That's who Beth is. So reframing her actions in S3 & S4 as simply reactions to evil Rio trying to ruin her life not only removes Beth's agency. It is also hollow. Because Beth has zero problem with crime—stealing Gayle's business, bribing a city official, hiring a hitman, setting up an innocent man to be a murderer, making Dean "sell" a hot tub to Mick, selling counterfeit purses, blackmailing men into buying those purses. Beth has a problem with not getting her way. And that's not enjoyable to watch. This is not me saying Beth has to be likeable as in a "good" person. But she has to be likeable to watch. Mary Pat is a total weirdo with very questionable morality, but she's enjoyable to watch. Vance is fucking creepy as shit, but he's enjoyable to watch. And while the show gave both those characters some dimension, it never portrayed them as characters we should unabashedly cheer for. That's not how they write Beth. They still—four fucking seasons in—want us to see her as a mom just trying to survive. But that's not the story plotwise that they have chosen to write. And the fact that Beth's "wins" are almost always at the expense of other women or POC is an added gross factor.

The show needs to make up it's mind about the monetary situation. Either things are dire and they are saving every penny to "escape" to Nevada. Or they have enough money to refurbish Sweet P's and buy Kenny an iPad.

Detroit city council is by district. Why do they keep referencing Ward 5?

Nice of the show to have Dave & Phoebe literally walk thru the situation. Super FUN! that the women who have been in this for years (per date revealed in 4x13) still don't understand how it works. The only way I like this scene is if it is a meta commentary about how the majority of the show stans have never understood how any of the crime aspects work 🧐 And I see that the show is yet again ignoring Turner's whiteboard and everything else implied about Rio's business dealings in S1.

Phoebe's no Turner, but I've never disliked her. She was really good in this episode, but the Phoebe/Beth stuff from stans is annoying. Why are people so into ships where Beth is awful to the other person and yet the other person is willing to risk things for Beth? Wait...I think I answered my own question.

So much wasted time on these MRA guys. I guess they don't need to be ~mysterious~ and I love (I don't) the casual misogyny in all their scenes. Preemptive GTFOH: I know—believe me, more than I want to—that men like this exist. I know it is realistic. But, again, as I mentioned before, the show is more than happy to ignore all types of realism to make the story they want to tell work. So don't tell me that this is simply a reflection of society. Jenna & Co are choosing to write this storyline in this way and she thinks it is fun and comedic.

The show is about the 3 women and anyone asking for more screen time for Rio is a misogynist. One minute spent on Annie's new shitty white male love interest popping her pimple = crickets.

The show is about the 3 women and anyone asking for more screen time for Rio is a misogynist. Dean having the reasonable response to Beth running for city council while she dismisses his legitimate concerns = crickets.

And, btw, Denise doesn't need secret insider information. Even if Dean's police records are sealed—why tho?—the two extremely visible daytime raids on the family businesses would have been on the news. And—gag!—Beth's visit to Denise was hella stupid. Denise is not a criminal, like the girls were in S1, so she has no narrative reason not to call the cops on Beth & her "thug." It was a shallow parallel and just another example of Beth needing a man to handle things for her.

I mentioned in my 4x13 thoughts about how the Sweet P's "fun and empowering...unlikely feminist statement" is bullshit. The girls, specifically Ruby, spent a lot of time judging the dancers. Beth straight up mocked Krystal's voice. They didn't care about implicating them in crime or costing them their jobs when they set up Gene to take the fall for the money laundering. They only "care" now because they need them.

Annie & Nancy's scene would have been nicer if Annie didn't imply that Greg(g)'s cheating was Nancy's failure. Again, they could have had them talk about the cheating and difficulty that Nancy went through as an example of a hardship she overcame. But they CHOSE to have Nancy explicitly frame the business disaster as a personal failing. So having Annie respond with the infidelity doesn't come across as tough love. It comes across as needlessly callous and victim-blaming.

This is long already, so I'm not even going to get into the Beth & Rio conversation at Sweet P's.

Ugh, Rio & Nick. So fucking dumb. Where was Nick before all of this? Why is he flexing his muscle now? With what we've gotten of his characterisation & attitude, are we to believe that this is the first time in 20 years that Rio & Nick have clashed? I would think that he would have been very concerned and involved when Rio drew the attention of the FBI. But Nick was nowhere to be found. (Because these writers don't understand the difference between retconning and world expansion.) Although I did get a chuckle when Nick said, "You think you'd have any of this?" while gesturing to Rio's usually empty bar.

Yet again, no cameras in an area that would most likely have cameras. And white woman Beth implicating gangs (which to cops = Black & brown youth) with her "broken windows theory" scare tactic is disgusting.

Caribbean flair and Mahalo. I'm so goddamn exhausted at this point.

Hello, Random Bitch Wife. FUN!

Hey, speaking of context matters....that entire last scene Beth is actively working with Phoebe & Dave to send Rio to prison. Romance!!!

[ohheyfullmetal]

some dumb bnha headcanons i wrote down during algebra last year

•uraraka floating to the ceiling and/or making furniture and other people do the same when she’s asleep

•shigaraki disintegrating doorknobs, toga thinks it’s hilarious, kurogiri has receipts with just,,,, DOORKNOBS

•that’s what afo really pays him for

•lmao like he pays him rest in peace oboro

•aizawa uses erasure unintentionally whenever he’s angry (or he does it on purpose because red eyes scare the kids and it brings him pleasure)

•dark shadow randomly joining in on class discussions and spilling tokoyami’s darkest secrets including his hawks shrine

•he and izuku make shrines together

•midoriya has freaky green lightening crackling up his arms and I’m trying to sleep, mr aizawa

•denki getting unnaturally jittery during thunderstorms. sometimes he causes a power outage.

•the man sucks the energy from power cables on a daily basis and charges his friends phones godbless

•katsuki’s banned from being sick because his sweat could cause the dorms to explode. same with his gym socks

•”why are these cats laying on me” -todoroki

•air conditioner and heater but he never feels like the right temperature, and it flares up (especially his ice) when he’s angry

•naomasa uses his quirk to his advantage whenever he can don’t lie

•he’ll know

•literally that’s his quirk

•sato is dorm mom, as we know, but,,, a quarter of UA’s budget is sugar for his cakes

•nezu gets some whenever sato bakes so he doesn’t really give a fuck that it’s taking all the school’s combat supplies

•momo shares her clothes with all of the girls especially ochako because the poor (no pun intended) girl is broke af

•tsuyu eats bugs and it freaks present mic and all might out but aizawa kind of vibes with it

•”TSU WHY ARE YOU LICKING YOUR EYES”

•kirishima accidentally using his quirk in his sleep and tearing his sheets by tossing and turning

•jirou has sensory overload and aizawa

has tea and blankets on standby send headcanon

•everyone loves shouji and he drinks respect women juice every day.

•he thinks he’s ugly but everyone loves him.

•sometimes his arms get in the way.

•doorways are a nightmare because his arms are so wide and he’s so fucking tall

•everyone just vibes with it tho

•secretly nicknamed kakashi

•”SHITTY NERDS HE’S OBVIOUSLY THAT STUPID GRUNT THAT KIDNAPPED PUSSY BOY SASUKE”

•”kacchan, you watch naruto?!”

•we know that mina sneezes acid

•that’s a recipe for disaster in itself

•sero loves this really old movie with this american hero named spiderman

•tape webshooters

•dispenser hair is brought into the shrine cult,,, but make it animal crossing

•”hey bakubro you really look like marshall”

•”WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY TO ME SHITTY HAIR I’LL KILL YOU AND STUPID DEKU”

•”kacchan i didn’t even say anything!”

•”YEAH, AND??”

•tokoyami has a grave for midoriya in the dorm courtyard just in case

•todoroki brings flowers there every day

•”um todoroki i’m not dead”

•”i know.”

•”what”

•aizawa puts all his kids in therapy

•mina’s therapist recommends television as a distraction

•”fuck” -aizawa

•the entire class ends up watching the entirety of subbed sofia the first

•aizawa kind of likes it tbh

•everyone screams when he mentions prince james at dinner: how the hELL DOES HE KNOW WHO THAT IS

•izuku nags bakugou to make katsudon every night bc it’s his favorite

•bakugou’s is really spicy like his mom’s, since inko learned the recipe from mitsuki

•sometimes bakugou WILL make katsudon for deku because he’s a closet softie and secretly feels bad for being so mean to izuku before everything at ua happened

•he won’t admit that but kirishima knows and thinks it’s sweet

•kiri is trying to get them to be friends again

•katsuki says NO. and dyes kirishima’s hair purple in retaliation

•in solidarity with shark boy, all of 1a dyes their hair purple

•even bakugou, eventually

•shinsou is really fucking confused

•the general studies classes think it’s because 1a wants shinsou in the hero course

•the support classes just think everyone in 1a is actually in love with shinsou because of his new abs

•i mean 👀

•izuku misses his mom :(

•at least he has his all might body pillow

•and all might who begs bakugou to burn it

•if it’s kacchan it won’t be suspicious

•”just ask for a hug kiddo I’m literally one building away???”

•1a adopts eri and she moves to the student dorms with her 19 siblings

•mineta literally just drops the hero course after the lov kidnaps bakugou he’s done with ua

•that’s what i did with my ap music theory class oops

•ua’s done with him

•kouta punches him in the balls on midoriya’s request

•he really is the future number one hero

•1a is slightly horrified because this is deku who cried over an ant dying

•actually he cries over everything

•which just makes them even more horrified

•but not opposed to it at all

•kirishima records it

•movie night is once a week and it’s the top pick

•shinsou moves to 1a with his “i have no intention of making friends” family

•rumours are it’s because of the whole hair dyeing incident

•no seriously, even aizawa participated, nezu had no choice at that point

•shinsou knows that it was just a prank that went too far but goes along with the rumors anyway just to fuck with people

•”yeah, i’m dating everyone in 1a”

•”WE KNEW IT”

•hatsume was the one who started that rumor btw

•eri has her newest big brother

•this one is very tired deku please force him to sleep

•mirio gets his quirk back and heads off to help at nighteye’s agency during school breaks

•but he comes back to visit 1a and eri so much that it’s like he’s not even gone

•halloween comes

•aizawa is dorothy from the wizard of oz because hizashi wanted to be toto

•all might risks his life

•”eraserhead! may i see those red heels of yours?!”

•he gets red eyes instead

•is it his quirk or are they just bloodshot??

•who knows

•shinsou dresses as “himself but happy” which is just foundation over his baggy eyes and a horrible yellow smiley face t-shirt

•eri is lemillion for all hallow’s eve and deku for halloween

•deku cries

•mirio also cries but only amajiki knows

•she tells aizawa that she had to be the heroes who rescued her this year, but promises she’ll dress as him next time because he’s her hero too

•aizawa cries to midnight and hizashi for three hours straight

•they didn’t even know he could cry

•hizashi freaks out because he thinks aizawa’s quirk malfunctioned or something and almost takes him to the hospital

•”i haven’t felt emotions in years, what are these children doing to me!!”

•midnight just awkwardly pats him on the back and gets him a beer

•then she goes back to playing candy crush so hizashi can handle it

•she’s on level 2,487

•todoroki is only one level behind

•he plays one level of candy crush for every time his dad is an asshole

•he downloaded it two weeks ago

[artiesjam]

i can imagine so much hc with the boys before 1995

(they all go to the mall every tuesday once their parents give them allowance. the band is all heading to a record shop inside of the mall until alex catches sight of a fanny pack inside of a hot topic window. it’s nice and has a rainbow stripe heading right down the middle. bobby hovers over him silently looking at the item too. he asks if alex wants to get it. once he nods, bobby understands, telling him that he’s gonna catch up with luke and reggie. he buys it with the cash in his pocket and the cashier locks eyes with him. the blonde and this guy both have this unexpected weird moment and as he’s about to leave, the guy calls out and asks if he’s free to meet back here on friday. alex says sure and walks out, feeling like the happiest person in the world. he tells the guys and they hype him up in the middle of the mall.)

(bobby being a foster kid and his foster parents didn’t mind his friends coming over. they even soundproofed the studio for him. they were planning to adopt him the same year his friends died. it was probably his best family since he went into the system at five years old)

(alex and reggie were childhood friends. they have been since they were eight. bobby and luke came the same year and when they were all paired up for a project, they just clicked.)

(bobby and alex both use humor to cope and are insanely sarcastic. they both religiously use the middle finger and curse very often.)

(bobby will curse at a minor inconvenience “fucking hell” or “S H I T”)

(bobby has a dog who weirdly favors reggie and luke is just like “come on dorothy why don’t you love me 🥺🥺” and then bobby is like “dude maybe it’s because you won’t call her her actual name. it’s dot not dorothy, dumbass” and then luke pouts. alex didn’t care because he likes cats better)

(every single year they had a tradition of “cursed gifts” where they would give normal gifts and each person would have one cursed one from a special someone. one year bobby gave luke a shirt with double sleeves that he got his mom to sew on and luke got alex a barbie mini bike with training wheels. oh and bobby is allergic to peanuts so they get him some sort of peanut themed option whether it’s peanut butter or witty jokes like getting a shirt with the charlie brown cast “the peanuts”)

(each birthday the band sings an Oprah version of happy birthday for whoever has said birthday)

(huge d&d nerds when they were 13. alex acted like he wasn’t interested but he really did enjoy listening to them play or make references)

(reggie sometimes blurts random facts and bobby uses that to his advantage in intense arguments for example:

reggie, trying to calm down an intense argument by saying a random fact: did you know that humans are the only animals that blush?

bobby: thank you reggie! you see luke, even if other animals could blush, i bet you couldn’t even make them. tsk tsk tsk

alex: *intense laughing noises*)

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Chapter 10

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, AO3

~*CS*~

On the road between Oakland and Portland, May 27th

Emma felt the mattress dip slightly behind her.  She curled in on herself but there wasn’t much room in the bunks of the bus for her to completely avoid whomever it was.  It didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try though, stubbornly keeping her gaze fixed on the wall and not making a peep.

“I’m not going away until you tell me something,” Ruby sighed.  She shifted and Emma felt her stretch out next to her, “You can’t avoid it forever.  It might help to talk about it.”

“What’s there to say?” She asked dully. “It’s all over the internet.”

From the moment she’d stormed out of the office building she’d been hounded by paparazzi.  Her Instagram was full of comments that ran the gamut from cussing her out for kicking Killian off the tour to cussing her out over the leaked, and very edited, audio from her ranting at Walsh.  Will had informed her with an impressed grin that she’d been trending on Twitter for two days along with the hashtag MissHighandMighty.  The only good thing that had happened was Regina was too busy putting out fires to rail at her in person over what she probably saw as her failings and shortcomings.  Instead she’d received and ignored multiple texts that clearly communicated Regina’s increasing frustration with her.  She’d blocked Killian’s number completely.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Ruby chided.  She paused, “He’s been calling me, asking what happened.  I’ve been letting them go to voicemail, mostly because I don’t know if you want me to answer or what really happened actually, but even if I did I wouldn’t say anything.  Chicks before dicks and all.”

Emma felt herself smile, her first real one in three days, “Yeah, but that’s how you like it.  Dorothy okay with you being out here?”

“Eh-” she could feel Ruby’s shoulders lift behind her in a shrug, “She knew I’d be touring when we first hooked up.  We just got a few extra weeks before it actually happened.  She wasn’t too happy with the drop everything and catch a red eye to LA part of it all, though.  We were about to go on a date, by the way, so thanks for that.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, feeling a bit guilty.

“You can make it up to us later,” Ruby said matter of factly. “Nice attempt at a deflection by the way.”

“Thought I’d try,” she muttered.

“And if I was Tink it might have worked but I’m not so it didn’t.  Time to spill.”

She closed her eyes.  It was just one of the many moments she’d been dreading since seemingly everything in her life had imploded.  In a sort of grim twist of luck it was going to be one of the easier of the conversations she knew needed to happen.  With a resigned sigh she opened her eyes and turned onto her back, though she kept her gaze trained on the underside of the bunk above her.

“How much did you know?” She asked, trying and failing to keep the accusation out of her voice. “Did Regina tell you I’d only go for it if you were the one to bring him in?  Did he flirt and flatter his way into getting you to agree to helping him re-jumpstart his career through me?”

Ruby let out a harsh burst of air, clearly surprised by her question.  She could almost feel the glare aimed at her but kept her eyes focused upward.

“If you really thought that you wouldn’t have made me fly all the way out here to replace him,” Ruby said harshly.  Then she sighed, “I didn’t know what plans Regina had for him or his career but I did know that he’d signed with her.  It’s why she didn’t put up a fight when I suggested he take my place on the tour.  I thought you knew that.”

“No.  I clearly didn’t,” she said shortly.

Ruby sighed again, “Okay, but to be fair it also wasn’t this big secret.  He was just a substitute guitarist, you even told him that.”

“Yeah, well, he turned out to be more,” Emma muttered, hating the catch in her throat.

“Emma-” Ruby lifted herself up on her elbow and hovered over her, her eyes wide, “Did you fall for him?”

“No. We were just…”

She couldn’t force the words ‘having fun’ off her tongue.  Instead she gave a one shoulder shrug, hoping Ruby would get the idea.  That Ruby’s first instinct was dead on wasn’t something Emma wanted to dive into.

Ruby narrowed her eyes and studied her before smirking and flopping back down beside her, “Whatever you two were ‘just’ doing it definitely wasn’t ‘just’ fucking.”

Emma couldn’t help twitching at Ruby’s matter of fact statement.  She hadn’t known that Ruby was a goddamn psychic.  Looking over at her suspiciously she was annoyed to see Ruby looking like a cat that got the canary.

“What did Tink tell you?”

“Oh, it wasn’t Tink,” Ruby said with a sing-song tone, “Will has been complaining non-stop about having to share a room with Tink.  Apparently glitter ruins a man’s reputation.”

“He’s with Belle, he shouldn’t be worrying about his reputation,” Emma grumbled.  Then she sobered, “He’s not telling everyone about that is he?”

Ruby’s grin faded, “You know he wouldn’t do that.”

“I don’t know what anyone wouldn’t do anymore,” she whispered.

“Emma-” Ruby turned onto her side and grabbed her hand, squeezing it, “I’m on your side, always, but you haven’t even given Killian the chance to explain himself.”

She scoffed, “You haven’t heard what Walsh actually told me.  He said that Regina was the one that told him to bring up Killian getting back into music.  She had to have planned it all out with Killian at that goddamn lunch, gotten his okay to do it that way.  There’s fucking pictures of them shaking on it right before Regina came to the studios.”

That had been the final blow.  She had been in line at a grocery store the day after the disastrous interview, waiting to buy emergency Milk Duds and microwave popcorn.  Killian had been calling and texting her with increased frequency and she’d ignored them all.  Her phone had started buzzing in her hand again and in her fumbling to pull it out of her pocket she’d dropped the Milk Duds.  When she’d bent to pick them up her gaze had caught on a tabloid with a blown up picture of Killian, Regina and Robin seated on the patio of a restaurant, the remains of their meal strewn across the table.  Killian and Robin had been shaking hands while Regina looked on in satisfaction.  Emma had dumped the candy and popcorn into a basket of french bread and fled the store, blocking Killian’s number as she did.

“There’s pictures of them sharing a meal,” Ruby said, being annoyingly pragmatic, “And that was a paparazzi shot, so you don’t know that they were plotting anything.”

“He never told me Regina was going to be there,” she said harshly. “I was almost willing to hear Killian out, eventually.  He kept calling and texting and I thought maybe I should give him a chance to explain.  Then I saw that fucking picture.  I asked him what he was going to do that day and he lied straight to my face.  He said he was hanging out with Robin and his son.  No mention of Regina or lunch meetings or that he had even started recording again.  He’s lied to me at least twice that I know of and I have no idea how many more he’s told me since we met.”

She was breathing heavily and as much as she wanted to yell, scream out her frustrations and heartbreak, she was all too aware of the others on the bus waiting for her to do just that.  Tink and Will had been watching her closely for days and while deep down she knew they’d never blab to reporters or post anything on social media they also weren’t the ones she wanted to talk to.  Ruby had been her friend the longest and should have been the perfect person to unload on but Emma still felt like a powder keg, ready to explode.  With a heavy heart she realized that the one person she wanted to vent to was the one person she wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

“So you’re just going to ignore him?  You never want to know what was really going on?” Ruby asked incredulously.

“I can find that out from Regina.  She’s underhanded and does things on her own terms but she never lies about it.  At least not when you ask her straight up,” she said bitterly.

“And don’t you think Killian would too?”

A week earlier she would have been absolutely sure how she would have answered.  Instead she felt as though the rug had been pulled out from beneath her and she’d yet to find her footing.

“I’m just not ready to talk to him yet,” she hedged, knowing Ruby would keep at her like a dog with a bone. “Can we just… not talk about it at all anymore?”

“Okay,” Ruby acquiesced after a small pause where she’d merely looked at her, “but can I ask one more thing?”

Emma rolled her eyes and huffed, “Fine.  What?”

“Were you happy?”

Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart clenched in her chest.  She thought back to the couple of times that she’d woken up before him, able to look at him without a suggestive wag of his eyebrows or salacious twinkle in his eye.  There were the nights they stayed up too late, either on the bus or in their room, talking about everything and nothing.  He’d made soundchecks less of a chore as he joked around with Will or teased Tink about the romance novel that was always sitting on top of whatever flat surface was nearest.  Then there’d been the moments when she’d look at him only to find him already watching her with a soft smile that she was helpless to return.

The memories only made the sting of his betrayal hurt all the more.

“I really, really was.”

For the first time since her world came crumbling down she let herself cry.  She’d held herself together with nothing more than stubborn will and ignoring everything that didn’t have to do with the next show.  As she curled into Ruby’s arms with heaving sobs she vaguely realized it might not have been the best strategy.

Slowly, and nearly a whole box of tissues later, Emma regained control of herself.  Ruby was still curled around her, gently rubbing her back.  She was vaguely aware that at some point Ruby had been whispering to her but she had no idea what she’d been saying.  It didn’t matter much, not when just being there meant more to her than anything Ruby could have said.

“I’m sorry,” Emma murmured, her voice wavering and her nose sounding stuffed.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Ruby said, tugging on a lock of her hair, “You’re just lucky this was a tour shirt you ruined with all your snot and tears.”

Emma snorted and pulled back but only got an inch away before Ruby crushed her back to her.  She sighed in annoyance even though she hadn’t really wanted to leave the comfort of her embrace.

“You’re going to have to let me go eventually,” she said, even as she relaxed.

“Eh, there’s still a few hours until it’s absolutely necessary,” Ruby said, squeezing her harder.

“What if I have to pee?”

“Babe, you just cried out all of your bodily fluids.  If anything you’ll need a Gatorade but I’ll just yell at Will until he brings it to us-” Ruby scoffed.  Emma felt her tense slightly before she asked quietly, “Do you want me to block Killian’s number?”

Her knee jerk reaction was to say yes.  She felt like she should want to cut Killian out of her life completely.  To make him feel even a sliver of the hurt and uncertainty she was feeling.  However there was something deep inside her that recoiled from that idea, that despite the hell she was going through she still cared enough about him to want to minimize his pain.

“No,” she sniffled, “He’s your friend too.”

“Not right now he’s not.  I mean, I still think you should hear him out but maybe he kinda deserves the cold shoulder for a week or two.”

She shrugged, knowing that Ruby would probably ice Killian out for a month instead.  Which, of course, meant that after that she would most likely put all her energy in encouraging him not to give up.  Then Ruby would simultaneously be wearing her down to get her to call him.  Even thinking about that probable future had her wanting to delete Killian’s number completely, if only to stave off the inevitable.

She fished her phone out from under the tangle of blankets.  While she hadn’t turned it off completely she’d put it on silent and had pretty much ignored every text and email notification since the Walsh audio had leaked.  Regina had told her she’d take care of it and Emma trusted her just enough to believe that she would.

After unlocking it she was greeted with the continued barrage of messages she’d been expecting.  Unable to hold back her frustrated sigh she gave up the pretense of trying to hide what she was doing and pulled out of Ruby’s arms to prop herself up to deal with the never ending tidal wave of texts and emails.  She could feel Ruby’s gaze over her shoulder but made no move to hide her screen, even in the best of times it was hard to keep her from snooping.

Scanning through the emails first she was glad to see that most of it was spam.  A few were from Mary Margaret or David and she suspected that half the texts would be from them too.  There was only one from Regina, though it had been sent at the beginning of the shit hitting the fan telling her to keep a low profile while everything was dealt with.  With grim satisfaction she proceeded to delete the spam, glanced over the ones from Mary Margaret and David with a touch of guilt at their concern and her lack of communication with them.

The texts were another matter completely.  She had been right in thinking that half were from Mary Margaret and David, reiterations of the support and concern from their emails but a touch more frantic as they progressed.  After sending them a quick message that she was alive and would call them once they got to the hotel she grimaced at the ten unread messages from Regina.  Having one message go unread from her was bad enough and Emma knew that when she finally responded Regina would probably reach through the phone and rip her heart out.

The first couple were innocuous, more warnings for her to lie low and to ignore whatever reporters might show up at her hotel or the venue.  Several were updates on how things weren’t progressing with the fight against Walsh.  Then there were the admonishments and disappointment at her continued insistence to keep Killian off the tour.  The final text was a directive: Answer your goddamn phone, that had Emma wincing and noticing for the first time the little indicator that she had voicemails to listen to.  Throwing Ruby a worried glance she tapped on the icon and prepared for the worst.

You have six new voice messages.  To listen to your messages press one- 

Message one:

“It doesn’t look like we’ll need to take legal action but be prepared for the possibility that we will.  We also need to discuss the Jones fiasco.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-  

Message two:

“I don’t appreciate having to leave another voicemail along with the unanswered texts.  Walsh has agreed to issue an apology and his employer is sending him on an unpaid leave of absence for a month.  I would have preferred a firing but they will be generously donating to a charity of your choice and will be giving you final say in your future interviewers if we ever decide to return.  We still need to discuss the Jones fiasco.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one- 

Message three:

“Reviews for last night’s show could have been better.  This wouldn’t have been an issue if Ms. Lucas had more than twenty-four hours notice to begin rehearsing.  I am still waiting to hear what happened with Jones.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-

Message four:

“Emma, sweetheart, I just want you to know that David and I both love you very much and we’re here for you.  Call either of us back when you can.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-

Message five:

“I am beginning to lose my patience with you, Miss Swan.  You are not my only client and neither is Mr. Jones.  I cannot do my job if you do not answer your phone.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-

Message six:

“I will be flying up to Portland to discuss matters with you in person.”

End of message. To erase this message press-

Emma hung up and dropped her hand to her lap.  She was screwed.  Regina was a nightmare to deal with when she was irritated but still in a forgiving mood.  In the last message she had sounded beyond pissed and was likely to be even more so by the time they were in the same room together.  Especially since she had told her that she wasn’t intending to rejoin the tour until the final show in Vancouver.

“From the look on your face you probably didn’t hear any good news,” Ruby said cautiously.

“Sorta,” she murmured, “Walsh is going to publicly apologize but he’s really only getting a slap on the wrist as punishment.”

“Asshole,” Ruby snarled.

Humming her agreement she turned her phone over and over in her hands.  She contemplated calling Regina to try and get some of the yelling that was bound to happen over with.  The only problem was if Regina was meeting them in Portland then she was most likely on a flight and wouldn’t be able to answer her phone.  There was no way she was going to play phone tag and end up pissing her off even more than she already was.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Ruby was watching her with narrowed eyes. “Is it Killian?”

“Blocked his number, remember?” She sighed tiredly. “I’m pretty sure Regina’s going to murder me when we get to Portland.”

“Regina’s going to be in Portland?  I thought her royal ass wasn’t going to be around until Vancouver.”

“Well, looks like I’ve made her mad enough to change her plans.”

“Shit,” Ruby breathed, “Sucks to be you.”

She huffed out a half-amused laugh, “Thanks.”

“Welcome,” she chirped, gleefully. “So, you’ve got at least a few more hours left to live.  Wanna see how much money we can take Will for?”

“Blackjack or Hold-Em?” She asked, already crawling over her to get out of the bunk.

“Hold-Em,” Ruby said with a devious grin, following her, “He has the most obvious tell I’ve ever seen.  Someone should really tell him.”

A few hours, a couple of hundred miles and one pissed off Will Scarlet later the bus pulled up to their hotel in Portland.  For the most part Emma was able to keep her mind off of everything that had been dragging her down.  It helped that her focus had to stay on her cards while ensuring that Will’s boasting morphed into irritated grumbling until he’d finally thrown down his final hand in disgust and stomped off to his bunk a few more dollars poorer.

As she tallied up her half of the take she warily eyed the front entrance of the hotel.  She’d almost convinced herself that Regina would have been waiting for her, pacing like a caged tiger, ready to strike.  Instead she found herself looking at a couple of bored valet attendants and a few of the other guests entering and leaving, some slowing to gape at the bus as it came to a stop.  To her great relief there were no reporters or paparazzi in sight, unlike their hotel in Oakland.

“I’ll let the front desk know we’re here,” Tink volunteered, popping out of her bunk like a jack in the box.

Before Emma could thank her she had already skipped down the stairs and was making her way into the hotel.  Shaking her head at Tink’s boundless energy she stood herself, stretching out her road weary muscles.  Just as she was about to move to gather up her stuff to take up to the room she caught sight of Regina striding out of the hotel’s entrance.  The furious look on her face made Emma’s stomach drop to her toes.

“Uh, you guys should go,” she called out, keeping her eyes on the advancing Regina.

“You already drained me dry and now you’re makin’ demands?  I’ll go when I’m good and ready,” Will scoffed, his voice muted.

She felt Ruby come up behind her, “I’ll just wait for- oh.  Will, let’s go!”

“What the bleedin’ hell for?” He growled, she heard him drop from his bunk and stomp towards them, “It’ll take Tink at least twenty minutes to get everythin’ all sorted out and since I’m bunkin’ with the crew, thanks to you and that wanker havin’ a row-”

“If your accommodations aren’t to your liking Mr. Scarlet-” Regina said icily as she ascended the stairs into the bus, “I can arrange for something more suitable, a Triple A recommended motel perhaps?”

Looking over at Will she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard before grinning cheekily, “Ah, won’t be necessary, luv, seein’ as motels never have a decent bar.  Shall we, Red?”

Ruby looked torn.  Emma nodded, giving her the okay to leave even though she desperately wanted her to stay.  Unfortunately she knew that Regina would lay into her no matter who was there to witness it.  Regina had already made it clear that she was annoyed that Ruby had replaced Killian.  If Ruby stuck around she’d most likely fight on Emma’s behalf and get sent back to Maine for her trouble.  The last thing she wanted was to give Regina the opportunity to bring Killian back on.

Will had already left the bus and Ruby followed reluctantly, her gaze narrowed at Regina’s back until she disappeared out the door.  Steeling herself Emma waited for the oncoming tirade.

“Have a seat Miss Swan,” Regina said icily, brushing past her and sitting down at the bus’ small table.

“A please would be nice,” she muttered, low enough to not be heard while doing as she was told.

Regina watched her silently.  Emma fought against the urge to fidget, feeling a lot like she was an unruly student about to be reprimanded by the principal.

“Mr. Hoakley’s apology has been released-” Regina began without preamble, “His producer and the company have also issued their statements.  Unfortunately, the edited audio is still being circulated despite the original recording and a transcript being released and you’re still trending negatively on Twitter.  We haven’t seen any major drop in overall sales or requests for ticket refunds but there has been a dip.  Enough of one that the label is insisting that you release a statement of your own.”

“What?  I-”

“I am talking Miss Swan, you will only listen,” Regina said sharply.  She paused, clearly waiting for her to try and argue.  When she didn’t she continued, “I have already written the response which will be posted to your Instagram today along with a photo from the tour.  You will also be doing a live session tomorrow morning to answer fan questions.  The questions will be chosen and looked over beforehand to prevent any more mishaps.  If everything goes well we should see a solid bounce back by the time we reach Vancouver.

“Now, concerning Mr. Jones-”

“I could have kicked him off the tour at any time, we put it in the fucking contract,” she said hotly, annoyed at having been dressed down and feeling defensive over the decision she still wasn’t sure about.

Regina’s brown eyes flashed, “Yes, which saved you from being dropped from the label entirely.”

“Wh-” Emma could feel the blood draining from her face, “What?”

“Despite what you may think you are not as indispensable to them as to take the liberties you already have.  The fiasco with Mr. Hoakley was bad enough and while you were in the right the label saw your combativeness as a strike against you.  Dropping Mr. Jones from the tour at the same time was a misstep that jeopardized both your careers.  Yours more so than his.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?  How is that fair?” She asked in disbelief, feeling irate heat crawling up her neck.

“It isn’t, but that’s how this industry works, Miss Swan,” Regina said flatly. “Mr. Jones is an established artist with a built in fan base and therefore guaranteed record sales.  His past troubles are well documented and any misstep he could make wouldn’t come as a surprise even with his turnaround and the years spent in reclusivity.  You, on the other hand, have only begun to bring in returns on the investments the label has made.  Having Mr. Jones on the tour was his tacit endorsement of you and could have drawn a new demographic of listeners to your music.  Instead you’ve made it appear as though you were doing him some great favor instead of the other way around.”

“I don’t need his or anyone’s help,” she growled. “I’ve already made it this far on my own.”

“You made it to open mic nights and small bookings at bars on your own.  A world you are closer to returning to than you think,” Regina warned. “I suggest addressing how thankful you are that the label has been supporting you during this time.  It’ll be a step towards getting back in their good graces.”

“This is ridiculous-” she threw up her arms in frustration, “I did nothing wrong and I’m getting punished for it.”

“Again, this is how things work and you are not the only one being reprimanded for your behavior,” Regina snapped.

She frowned, “What do you mean?”

“I have been in meetings and taking phone calls for the past three days fighting on solely your behalf-” for the first time Regina seemed to soften, a wry twist to her lips. “There is nothing worse than trying to convince a group of old, out of touch, decidedly male record executives to consider for a moment what a young woman in the industry has to deal with on a daily basis.  Let alone trying to explain the capriciousness of social media trends.  Regardless what you may think, I am on your side Emma.”

“Wait, I’m confused-” she sat back, crossing her arms over her chest, “You just spent the last fifteen minutes chewing me out.”

“And you spent the last three days ignoring my calls-” Regina said pointedly. “If you’d actually answered any of them I might have been more patient in explaining everything to you.”

“So if I’d answered you would have been less of a bitch?” She asked sardonically.

Regina pursed her lips and glared at her, “Seeing as I’m the one currently keeping your ass out of the fire I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“So, I post my statement and do an awkward live thingy to get things back on track,” she said in lieu of apologizing.  There was no way in hell she was going to give Regina the satisfaction. “Anything else?”

“We still need to discuss what happened with Jones,” Regina said with a raised eyebrow, folding her hands together on the table.

“Jesus,” she muttered under her breath.  Dropping her head back she sighed, “Do we really or can we pretend we did and go get drunk at the bar instead?”

There was a pregnant pause before Emma heard Regina shifting in her seat, as though she were uncomfortable.  Curious she swung her head back down and was surprised to see an almost concerned look on Regina’s face.  She must have let her confusion show because Regina rolled her eyes.

“We may not exactly be friends, Emma, but I do have your best interests at heart.  What happened with Jones the day of the interview? You were eager to be done with the day and back with him as soon as possible, then a few hours later you dropped him from the tour and cut off all communication.  As your manager I need to know if there’s going to be any issues in the future that can be quietly dealt with now-” the concerned look returned, “As someone who worries about you I want to know that he hasn’t done anything to hurt you.”

Emma burst into laughter, unable to help herself.  She should have known that Regina would have no clue why she’d practically fallen apart.  In Regina’s mind she was merely doing her job of getting her clients’ careers to the next level.  It wouldn’t have occurred to her that she might have been the reason for it all going to shit.

Catching sight of Regina’s bewildered stare threw Emma into a fresh gale of laughter.  As tears of mirth streamed down her face she fought to catch her breath and wondered almost idly if she’d finally lost her damn mind.  Several minutes passed before she was finally able to get ahold of herself and look Regina in the eye.

“Are you quite finished?” Regina asked, clearly exasperated.  At her nod she leaned forward, “Now, will you please tell me what it is I said that had you laughing like a madwoman?”

“Do you worry about me or my career?” She said instead of answering, quirking her lips in a wry smile.  Regina’s brows drew down in consternation and Emma sighed, knowing they were only heading towards a fight, “Killian didn’t do anything.  He got what he wanted out of touring with me so it was time for him to go.  End of story.”

“That sounds more like the middle of the story-” Regina leaned forward, “Explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” she sighed, completely over the conversation. “Being on tour got him back in the saddle or taking that first giant leap or whatever.  He’s working on new, amazing stuff with the hit-maker Robin Locksley, which is what you want from a new client.  Right?  So I let him go and we’re both moving onto bigger and better things.  Everyone’s a winner.  Can I please go get a drink now?”

Regina had slowly straightened in her seat during her small tirade.  She was sitting rigidly, looking at her with an unreadable expression.  After a moment she shook her head, Emma somehow felt it was in disappointment, and stood from the table.

“I’ll send you the statement to post and options for the photo to go along with it.  The live Q and A needs to happen before nine tomorrow morning, I will be sending along the pre-approved questions as well.  Stick to those and hopefully you’ll come out of this relatively unscathed.”

Emma stared up at her, almost annoyed she hadn’t pushed the Killian issue further, “Okay…”

“Have a good evening, Miss Swan.” With that Regina strode off.  Emma watched her go, flabbergasted by the abrupt departure when Regina stopped at the top of the stairs leading off the bus and turned back, “Just so you know, Mr. Jones is refusing to do any work on the album the label has him on contract for.  Mr. Locksley, a close, personal friend of his I believe, is having difficulties convincing him to even pretend to work on it to appease the label.  He is perilously close to being in breach of contract with them and is refusing to answer my calls as I try to salvage what’s left of his career.  But everyone's a winner, right?”

Regina didn’t wait for her to answer, stepping down off the bus without any further acknowledgement.  Emma sat there with a growing sense of unease, staring blankly at the spot that Regina had been standing.  The part of her that hadn’t wanted to see Killian in pain was trying to twist Regina’s words into lies, make everything she’d said another ploy to boost sales or something, anything to keep her mind clear of the idea that Killian was sabotaging himself for her.  Yet the longer she sat there the more her unease grew, knowing that what Regina had said was exactly something that Killian would do.

Antsy she got up from the table and paced between it and her bunk.  She no longer wanted a drink, just the thought of drowning her sorrows and problems had her remembering Killian’s hard fought for sobriety to face his own issues head on.  With each pass she made in the small space she teetered back and forth between believing Regina and vilifying her, both of which would have her making decisions she wasn’t ready to make.

Groaning in frustration she dove into her bunk, wanting nothing more than to hide away there and hope that everything would just fix itself.  Her self pitying was interrupted by a phone buzzing at her hip.  Reaching underneath her she pulled it out, expecting to see her old, battered but still functional phone and instead found her fingers wrapped around Ruby’s practically new iPhone in its protective red case.  Surprised that she’d left it behind Emma flipped the phone over to see who was calling.  When she saw Killian’s name on the screen she nearly threw it across the bus.

She eyed the still buzzing phone like it was a snake about to strike.  There were a million reasons for her to ignore it, to let it go to voicemail and have Ruby give her the gist of the message.  There was only one reason for her to answer and it was that that had her swiping up and pressing the phone to her ear before she could think better of it.

“Thank god,” Killian sighed in relief, the sound shooting straight to Emma’s heart, “Ruby, lass, I don’t know what’s going on and I won’t ask but please, just tell me that Emma’s alright.  I’ll stop calling, anything, I just... please, I just need to know.”

Her breath had backed up in her throat at the plea in Killian’s voice.  He also sounded exhausted, his accent dragging across the words much like they had when they’d stayed up too late, nose to nose talking the night away.  The memory had her breath hiccuping out of her in a half sob.

“What’s wrong?  Is it Emma?  Ruby, is she okay?”

His panicked questions had her biting her cheek to get a hold of herself.  She closed her eyes and gripped the phone as though her life depended on it.

“I’m okay, Killian.”

“Swan?” He breathed and she could hear his unfolding hope in the single word, “Love, is that you?”

“It’s me,” she whispered.

“Swan, Emma, I…” he huffed in either frustration or disbelief she wasn’t sure, “Dammit, love, I had so many things I wanted to say and now I can’t think of a single thing.”

She took in a shuddering breath, “Just tell me why.”

“Why?  Why what?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that you were trying to get your big comeback?  That’s all this was, wasn’t it?  You could have just told me that.  You didn’t have to lie to me,” she had tried to keep her tone even, unaffected, but had ended on a growl nonetheless.

“I never lied,” he said vehemently.  She scoffed and he made a strangled noise, “Emma, listen to me, when have I lied?  Yes, I admit, being on the tour may have begun as a stepping off point but it became more than that.  We became more than that.”

“A lie by omission is still a lie, Killian,” she said emphatically.  She couldn’t focus on how heartfelt he’d sounded when talking about them, not when he’d also confirmed everything she’d been worrying about. “It’s not like it matters anyway, you got what you want.  Your name’s back out there, people are interested.  Congrats on the record contract by the way.”

“None of that bloody matters to me,” he snapped. “If you’d just listen-”

“No,” she said, cutting him off, “You had your chance to explain when you first auditioned.”

“Emma-” his voice cracked, “please.”

“I- I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you-” her voice wavered, tears lodged in her throat, “I’m sorry.”

She cut off the call but not before she heard him say her name once more.  The phone immediately began buzzing in her hand but she swiped to ignore the call, quickly shutting off the phone completely to resist the temptation to answer.  She then curled into a ball and gave into her tears.

[hillbillied]

I'm about to be a basic bitch and ask for andyeddie for the domestic ship meme please and thank you?! 💜

fuck yeah you can, i want all of these!! and if this means we’re basic then call me bottom-line PH neutral, my dude - this is an andyeddie brain rot zone, you know this and i thank you so much for it!!

DOMESTIC SHIP MEME - AndyEddie

who reaches out to new neighbors

Andy. mr personality over here got it all. smooth voice, soft accent, award-winning smile. some neighbours take a while to even realise the tall, scary-looking guy in the blue pickup lives in the same house.

who remembers to buy healthy food

Andy, sort of. he buys a range but he does love his fresh fruit and veg. Eddie, on the other hand, shops simultaneously like he’s only got $5 and is on death row. not necessarily unhealthy just… bread. pasta. bacon. ready meal shit. bags of snacks. buy in bulk, Andy, it’s cheaper.

who fixes the oven when it breaks

Eddie, more practical knowledge from the machines. Andy would rather just call someone but has accepted just watching. (Eddie wears a dirty vest when he’s fixing it. got it tucked into his jeans with that big ol’ belt he wears and his tattooed arms are out so Andy just sips his drinks like cool, cool, please hurry up or this is going to turn into a bad porno.)

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s)

Andy waters the plants because he loves his plants. he has a flowerbed when they get a garden but even in an apartment he had flowerpots on the windowsills; he loves gardening. (pet wise, when they get a dog, they both feed it. they share cleaning, though Eddie is more maintenance and Andy more cleaning.)

who wakes up earlier

Eddie. six in the morning, without fail. marine clock, baby, that shit will never die. (not without heavy drinking or an all-nighter anyway.)

who makes the bed

Eddie. because Andy’s shit at it. military-corners Eddie’s fucking ass; Andy’s terrible at keeping things tidy. he’s clean but he’s not neat.

who burns breakfast

Andy. Eddie is a great cook, he does deliciously simple comfort foods and he makes dinner every night. full-on stereotypical house-husband in that regard, because Andy’s the breadwinner of the two in the boring hetero sense. Andy can cook, as in he can follow instructions and not set the kitchen on fire, but he’s the only one who’ll burn anything.

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house

Andy always kisses Eddie on the forehead. he’ll probably smooch him properly first – or worse, because he’s a a bastard, and will grab his ass before leaving – but he always marks that he’s actually leaving by kissing his forehead. he will go find Eddie specifically to give him his goodbye kiss.

Eddie shouts. hollers he’s going out in the shortest, blunted transfer of information. a grunted “Goin’ work” kind of deal. unless it’s spontaneous, he’ll also give Andy a kiss. it’s always on the lips and its chaste but heavy, pressing hard like he’s trying to remember the sensation. then he’ll get out of bed or grab his keys or go shower or whatever, and leave with a shout to mark him actually opening the door.

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home

Andy’s talkative. he’s “You have a good day?” or “You’ll never guess who turned up this afternoon!”. first one is default if nothing interesting’s happened. he wants to start a conversation, even if he talks and Eddie grunts. he doesn’t get up to greet; he knows Eddie will come find him and either sit down in his lap or come up behind him and wrap two strong arms around his waist. whatever suits, no rules

Eddie wanders out to meet Andy. he’ll come downstairs or walk into the entrance hallway. he’ll always have his arms folded, because he wants Andy to tell him what happened while he was out. (he doesn’t consider himself very interesting, yet he always wants to hear about the most basic shit Andy does.) normally he’ll add a “How was it?” or “Evenin’”. then he’ll wait because Andy usually answers him but not before he’s given him a greeting kiss.

who brings home little gifts like flowers/chocolates more often

both. Andy on the chocolates, Eddie on the flowers.

Andy knows the flavours Eddie enjoys and likes popping them into his mouth while Eddie berates him about wasting money. Andy buys things he thinks Eddie likes, but he also buys things Eddie needs and will not buy himself. lighters, jeans, shoes, wallets, picture frames, glasses cases. things that are worn down to the bone and need replacing. but also things like books and records.

Eddie’s a traditionalist, even if his reasoning might be a little tainted by heterosexual bullshit and toxic masculinity. he thinks flowers are beautiful, he knows Andy loves them, even memorised what kind he loves most, but there’s a-whole-nother level of gears in his mind about buying them. eventually he does because he desperately wants the ‘romance he can never have’. it’s a semi-special occasion the first time, like he’s picking Andy up from the station. he brings his bouquet and he looks way more uncomfortable holding it than Andy ever could be receiving it. (Andy, of course, is overwhelmed with joy. he puts them in the front window so everybody can see and he prunes them daily and he changes the water so they last longer and he plays with Eddie’s hair while looking at them and talks about how much he loves them. Eddie starts buying him flowers a fair bit after that.)

their favorite kind of movie to watch

I’ve been doing these for canon-era (1950s) so for that it’s any western movie and specifically The King and I. (they’re a couple of gays who love a good musical.) they don’t enjoy all the war movies, particularly since most of them are about Europe and are just completely surreal.

modern AU: shitty horror movies – they’ve seen every Final Destination and can rate them in order of ‘watchability’ – and 1990s classics like Jurassic Park and Jumanji, they’re simple guys.)

who first suggests a pillow fort

Andy. he secretly wants to give Eddie the childhood he’s certain, by piecing together a lot of clipped information, the man never had. so, he’ll make sure he’s already halfway down with it in the living room when Eddie comes home because then they might as well finish it and sleep there, right?

who builds the pillow fort

Andy starts it, Eddie watches and considers whether he’s going to participate. then Andy smiles at him and asks if he can help tie up a blanket to make one of the walls and yeah, Eddie’s building it too.

who tries to distract the other during the movie

Andrew Fucking Haldane. stupid fucking horny man does not have the attention span for movies. he’s impossible. luckily, he’s polite and will just entertain himself, running his hands up Eddie’s sides and kissing his neck even if Eddie himself wants to know whether Dorothy makes it to the Emerald City or not.

who falls asleep first

Eddie. in the marines, you have a time when you sleep and it is limited. he lays down, shuts his eyes, switches off his problems, and sleeps. dead to the world, he’ll be up at six. Andy doesn’t have trouble falling asleep usually but he can be known to lie awake and think too hard. Eddie’s occasionally found him downstairs reading the newspaper or pacing or sipping tea at the early hours when he’s really stressed. (and hiding it as best he can.)

who is big spoon/little spoon

both. Eddie will happily wrap himself around Andy protectively and just listen to the man talk. he’ll squeeze him tight and breathe deeply so Andy can feel it and simply let him know he’s there, he’ll keep them safe. when Andy’s the big spoon, he’ll kiss the back of Eddie’s neck and whisper in his ear and thread their fingers together. he tells Eddie that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be and how warm he feels and wonder what they’ll get up to tomorrow.  they also both like to come up behind each other for a standing-spoon, if you will.

coffee, junkfood, movie night pick ones here

[365days365movies]

April 11, 2021: Tootsie (1982) (Recap)

To be clear, I like Dustin Hoffman.

I can’t exactly claim that I’ve seen him in a lot of his most iconic roles, but I’m planning on fixing that this year for sure! On my to-watch list this year and beyond is Midnight Cowboy, Kramer vs. Kramer, Stranger Than Fiction, and Marathon Man at the very least.

But that’s not to say I haven’t seen him in other iconic roles of his, of course. Fun fact: I actually tried to do this project in 2019, and it...didn’t work. But, one of the films I watched that year was one of Hoffman’s most iconic dramatic films: Rain Man.

Oh, and by the way, that movie is not about an autistic man. Or, rather, it’s not based on a man diagnosed with one of the autism spectrum disorders. Instead, he actually most likely had a genetic disorder called FG syndrome, unrelated to the spectrum disorders. Ironic, since Hoffman’s character was the pop-cultural depiction of autism that people STILL refer to quite often, and quite inaccurately. But, obviously, that’s not Hoffman’s fault, and he was good in the movie, to be fair.

I grew up with him in Hook, as the pirate captain himself (I still do his laugh sometimes, it’s weird, I know). He had an underappreciated starring role in one of my favorite guilty-pleasure films, Outbreak (I fucking love that movie, and I’m not ashamed to admit that). He was in Finding Neverland, but I just forgot about that until I looked up his filmography to write this intro. And, of course...Master Shifu.

So, yeah, I actually DO like Dustin Hoffman, despite the fact that his role in The Graduate wasn’t stellar for me. Just seemed kinda miscast, and a little too awkward to be even slightly sympathetic. Then again, he wasn’t really meant to be, so maybe Hoffman was the perfect choice. Even then, he still acted well in it.

And anyway, I watched that movie for two major reasons. One, it was on my list of films to see, and TWO: it was a lead-up to the ACTUAL Hoffman film I wanted to watch this month: Tootsie. After all, I just watched rom-com Some Like It Hot, and if you’ve looked at me schedule, you know what film is coming next. So, this one fits in my planned schedule. Why? Well...there’s a theme.

Yup. I actually picked these movies for a reason. See, here’s the thing: this is a repeated trope in comedies, and I’ve always wondered whether or not it’s...problematic. But, much to my surprise with Some Like It Hot, they actually used the situation to comment on the female experience. I mean, not necessarily really well, but they tried at the very least. And for a film from 1959, that ain’t bad!

Which isn’t to say that it’s entirely clean, of course, but it was far better than I’d expected. So, if 1959 did that OK, how did 1982 do? Let’s find out, shall we?

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Michael Dorsey (Dustin Hoffman) is an acting coach, as well as being an actor himself. However, he’s not the most successful actor, as he keeps attempting to audition for pieces, only to get refused for nebulous reasons, or refuses them when he disagrees with the director. He might want to take his own advice, for the record.

In the meantime, he works in a restaurant with Jeff Slater (Bill Murray), a playwright and roommate. That night, the night of his birthday, he spends time with an actress friend, Sandy Lester (Teri Garr), and also hits on the majority of women there that night.

As the party concludes, and various people go home, Sandy is abandoned by her date, and Michael offers to take her home. She breaks down crying, and Michael guesses that she’s upset about an upcoming audition. He gives her some coaching advice, and manages to get her to produce the correct emotion for the role. Afraid that she’ll lose it without him, he agrees to accompany her to the audition and enrage her. It’s very funny.

That morning, however, she IMMEDIATELY gets kicked out of the audition, as she wasn’t right for the part. However, when he goes to help her by speaking with an actor on the show, he finds out that the actor is off the show, and is instead getting a part that MICHAEL was supposed to get. Now enraged himself, he goes to speak with his agent, George Fields (Sydney Pollack), and the two have a tense conversation. It’s revealed that because of his difficult nature, he has a terrible reputation in acting circles, and literally nobody will hire him.

Challenge accepted.

Now dressed up as a woman named “Dorothy Michaels”, he goes back to the audition that passed on Sandy. Like her, he’s also immediately rejected by the director, Ron Carlisle (Dabney Coleman), who insists that she’s too “gentile” for the part of a hospital administrator. This causes “Dorothy” to go off, in a righteous monologue that accuses Ron for conflating power with masculinity. Which...yeah, he totally is, and DAMN, it’s a good tell-off!

Producer Rita Marshall (Doris Belack) agrees, and invites “Dorothy” to read for the part. He comes in to read, and in the process meets Julie Nichols (Jessica Lange), to whom he’s IMMEDIATELY attracted. He brushes that off, and the audition commences. From there, he gets the part, which is a regular part on a soap opera called Southwest General.

Now fully invested in the dumbest idea anybody’s ever had, “Dorothy” goes to her agent and tells him the ridiculous news, and asks for $1000 to go shopping for more clothing. Back at their apartment, Michael speaks to Jeff about the whole situation. He notes that he’s doing this to get the money for his play in Syracuse, which requires $8000 to produce.

Sandy is to be cast in this play, which is an issue, as they now need to explain where the money came from, as it’s technically from the part that SHE was refused for, which would hurt her feelings. He lies and says that the money’s from a deceased relative. While in her place, and while she’s in the shower, he decides to try on some of her clothes to get ideas for Dorothy. But when she walks in on him, he lies AGAIN and says that he’s sexually attracted to her. And she reciprocates IMMEDIATELY, which leads to an unintended relationship.

On the set, “Dorothy” finds out that he’ll be kissing John Van Horn (George Gaynes), an older actor who’s clearly a bit past his prime, and makes it a point to kiss every actress on the set when they start on the show. Gross. Michael agrees, and when the scene comes, he improvises and has his character (Emily) hit the doctor instead.

While the director (who’s a DICK, by the way) notes the improvisation, he approves of it, while also discouraging any similar actions in the future, and calling her “toots”. “Dorothy” takes it, rather than talks back. John compliments her on the improvisation, and then kisses “Dorothy” anyway, much to Michael’s shock!

We also find out that Julie, who plays a nurse on the show, is dating director Ron. Later on, though, Michael observes him making out with another actress on stage. Shortly after this, Julie invites “Dorothy” to dinner at her place, which is eagerly accepted. At dinner, we find out that Julie has a young daughter and that her relationship with Ron is...not stellar.

They have a discussion about being a woman in the ‘80s, and the complexities inherent in that concept, which is an interesting theme of this movie! Gotta say, this is a more socially-conscious version of Some Like It Hot, and I really like that! But the conversation is cut short when Michael realizes that he’d promised dinner with Sandy that night, and leaves in a hurry.

Dinner with Sandy is awkward, as Sandy is...Sandy is a lot, to be honest. But, she tells Michael that the woman hired in her stead on the soap opera (who is, of course, Michael himself), is written as a wimp, rather than tough as intended, and that she should change that. Michael agrees, and actively goes against the script to make the character of Emily far tougher. and essentially a feminist.

While this causes some grief to Ron and Rita at first, Dorothy Michaels soon becomes a massively successful and popular actress on the show, and her popularity absolutely explodes. Michael’s wrapped up in the success of Dorothy Michaels, and thinks that she might be able to branch outside of the role of the soap opera. Which is difficult, as his agent points out, because of the simple fact that Michael is...well, Michael.

At a party that his agent invites him to, Michael meets Julie AS MICHAEL. He uses a line on her that she’d mentioned before to Dorothy, only to be met with a drink to the face. Which is fair, as the line was about being honest about wanting to have sex with her, so I get it.

On the set soon afterwards, we see that the show is becoming more progressive, allowing Julie’s nurse character to stand up to John’s chief doctor character. After the scene is done, the director once again calls Dorothy “toots” instead of her real name, and Dorothy absolutely snaps back at him, and rightfully so! In response, Julie goes and invites Dorothy to a weekend in the country, on her father’s farm. Despite some rebuke from Jeff for lying to Sandy AND Julie, Michael as “Dorothy” goes on the trip.

This, by the way, is an excellent time to mention that this film is exuding some real strong, uh, vibes. You know...alphabet mafia vibes. Like, it’s definitely there, heavily leaning towards Julie. Obviously, “Dorothy” is actually the heterosexual Michael, but that’s not helping, just saying. And there’s literally (and absolutely obviously) nothing wrong with that, but it’s so strong at this point that it’s hard to ignore.

On the farm, “Dorothy” meets Les Nichols (Charles Durning), Julie’s lonely and genuinely nice father, if a bit old-fashioned in his views on gender politics. He’s also got the hots for “Dorothy”, which is funny-but-awkward as shit. That night, Julie tells “Dorothy” some very personal things about her dreams as a child, which is a genuinely very sweet scene. And can I just say, that this movie is both funny and quite heartfelt? I love it! Also, again, the vibes...THE VIBES.

Meanwhile, the popularity of “Dorothy” continues to skyrocket, to the frustration of director Ron, but to the delight of producer Rita, who decides to extend her contract with the soap opera by a full year! Oh FUCK! Realizing what the hell he’s gotten himself into, Michael calls his agent, who tells him that it was in his contract, meaning he’s basically fucked.

Jeff also tries to help hi, out of it, to no avail. Just then, though, they get a call from Julie, looking for “Dorothy”. She’s been having her doubts about her relationship with Ron, and she realizes that she’s been settling for Ron and other men like him. And Dorothy’s inspired her to be a better person, and to be honest with others and with herself. Fuckin’ OOF.

Just then, Ron arrives, allowing them some alone time, as Julie is getting ready for their night out. In the process, “Dorothy” reveals that she knows about his indiscretions with other women. Ron proceeds to use the EXACT SAME EXCUSE that Michael used to excuse his lies to Sandy, and it’s well-executed! Good job, writers, that’s pretty awesome.

“Dorothy” promises to watch Julie’s daughter for the night, which proves a bit of an issue, but he works it out. Julie returns later on, having broken up with Ron. Another heart-to-heart ensues, but this one is concluded with a revelation that Julie is lonely, despite the fact that she appreciates Dorothy’s influence and friendship. And then, "Dorothy” tries to kiss Julie. OH

Yeah, Julie’s not exactly chuffed about this as, despite a LOT of “Sappho and her friends” vibes, she doesn’t actually swing that way. “Dorothy” tries to explain, but this is interrupted by a call from Julie’s dad! He asks her out on a date that night, and “Dorothy” accepts. On said date, he FUCKIN’ PROPOSES TO HER! She promises to think about it, and takes the fuck OFF.

And to continue the parade of “Fuck me, I guess” that marching down Michael Street, who should show up at the apartment but John, from the show! Having followed her home the previous night (YIKES BUDDY), he literally serenades her outside of the apartment window, before “Dorothy” lets him in. It’s there that he reveals he’s MADLY in lust with her, and it’s HILARIOUSLY awkward. Thankfully, just as John is forcing himself on her, Jeff walks in on them, interrupting John’s actions, and causing him to leave in shame.

AND FUCKING THEN, after all of that, Sandy arrives at the apartment to find out why Michael’s not returned her phone calls. And Sandy’s a lot, sure, but all of her concerns are completely valid and legitimate. And despite Michael’s impressive ability to lie, he tells her the truth: he’s in love with another woman. Which she absolutely freaks the fuck out about, but whatever, not like Michael doesn’t deserve that.

Having had it with all the drama around Dorothy’s life, he goes to his agent and hilariously recounts to him the whole series of events that’s taken place. Still struggling to find a way to get out of the situation, he goes to work the next day, for an awkward conversation with Julie. She thanks Dorothy for inspiring her to be true to herself, which cuts DEEP, but still says that they shouldn’t spend time together anymore.

Producer Rita arrives with news: the erasure of a reel of footage has forced them to shoot a scene live. Said scene involves a party being thrown for Dorothy’s characters, putting her in the starring role. And THAT is when Michael takes his chance. Dorothy improvises a monologue about Emily’s REAL past, as a twin who tragically died before realizing her dream to become a hospital administrator. Ripping off his disguise, Michael reveals himself as Emily’s twin brother, Edward!

Everyone on stage and at home is SHOCKED, especially Les, John, Sandy, and of course, Julie. And once the cameras stop rolling, Julie now understands everything. She walks right up to Michael...AND PUNCHES HIM IN THE DICK

John asks if Jeff knows, and I break in half laughing.

Months pass. Michael was able to fund Jeff’s play in Syracuse, and goes to meet Les, who lives in the area. The two make amends after an understandably awkward reunion, and they begin the journey to become friends after everything. This prompts Michael to return to the city and speak with Julie, who is...less than happy to see him. Which, yeah, entirely fair.

But, again overcoming the initial awkwardness, Julie is able to admit that she misses her friend Dorothy. And Michael reciprocates, speaking for Dorothy, who is...well, him. He says the following great line: 

I was a better man with you as a woman than I ever was with a woman as a man.

And from there...the two decide to rekindle a friendship, with Julie asking to borrow one of Michael’s dresses. And y’know...I’m rooting for those crazy kids.

That’s Tootsie! And, uh...I love it! I LOVE it. I actually think this is a great film, and one of the best I’ve seen this month. But I’ll elaborate...in the Review! See you there!

[chaoticspacefam]

I was tagged by @darth-bagel thank you! I shall tag (no pressure as always and feel free to ignore!) : @a-muirehen , @palepinkycat , @walk-ng-d-saster , @kyber-heart and @berriku <3

Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag 5 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better.

Name/Nickname: I usually go by Elf/Elven online, tho my gf also calls me Boyscout (it’s an inside joke we have XD)

Gender: Cis female

Star sign: Taurus  ♉

Height: 5′4″ (I can’t believe I’m actually taller than someone, sorry Bagel!)

Birthday: April 21st. Prolly gonna be spending another birthday in lockdown but hey, at least I can either play SWTOR with some buds or ARK with dad this time so that’ll prob be what I’ll be doing. Gotta make the most of it

Time: as I’m finishing this to post it, it is 1:22pm

Favorite bands: I have a lot so hold onto your hats lmao: Fall Out Boy, Glass Animals, Panic! At The Disco, Hop Along (not sure if these two still count as bands or if they’d fall under solo now...), MISSIO, 30 Seconds to Mars, Shinedown, Lord Huron is apparently a band now too tho he started solo owo, The Oh Hellos, Of Monsters And Men, The Antlers, PVRIS, Bastille, Young Heretics, Dorothy, The Crane Wives, The Mountain Goats

Favorite solo artists: Hozier, Willyecho (pretty sure he’s solo? XD), Billie Eilish, Ed Sheeran, Lorde, Mikky Ekko, Iron & Wine, Marina (& The Diamonds), Florence & The Machine, EDEN, P!nk, Keaton Henson, Amanda Palmer, Halsey, Radical Face, grandson, Lincoln

Song stuck in my head: as of this morning, The Mighty Fall by Fall Out Boy

Last movie: Uuuhh, pretty sure it was Hotel Transylvania 2, I was feeling icky the other day and needed to laugh so XD

Last show: The Alien Worlds series on Netflix, it’s really cool even if I wish they’dve come up with better names for the alien critters ¬_¬

When did I create this blog: Oh, not that long ago actually, funnily enough. I’ve been in and out of tumblr for a long while but never made my own blog(s) till about March last year (2020)

What do I post: this blog is exclusively SWTOR (and KOTOR) related stuff, anything from awesome art, writing and headcanons from mutuals, to my own art, screencaps from my and mutuals’ gameplay, to my own fics, headcanons and stuff. My other blog is for “canon” Star Wars, general fandom/gaming stuff etc. Very occasionally I might post non-swtor posts like this one here if I feel it “belongs” in the “get to know elven” tag

Last thing I googled: "acnh how many villagers can you have” - I wasn’t sure what the limit was and I play sporadically so I didn’t know, don’t laugh at me LMAO

Other blogs: just my other/main blog: @itstheelvenjedi​ . There’s “canon”-era Star Wars, LotR/The Hobbit stuff as well as a little bit of Warrior Cats, other gaming (mainly ARK: Survival Evolved atm), as well as a tiny bit of politics and ranty stuff. All is properly tagged so you can block any tags you don’t want to see.

Do I get asks: I do! I’m kinda slow answering them sometimes but I promise if you send me one I will always answer it and I appreciate every single one <3

Why I chose my url: ok, so, my mains are mostly wlw - except for Kas - (and yes, wlw can use the word “lesbian” if we want to, as a demisexual wlw person I will beat you with my crutch, fuck off, it’s a blanket wlw term just like “sapphic” and you don’t get to decide what I can and cannot call myself or my characters, you’re not me), they’re chaotic and they live in the SWTOR verse which is sometimes affectionately called a “space opera” so: chaoticspacelesbians. my main blog is because “TheElvenJedi” has been my main online pseud since about 2014, but theelvenjedi was apparently taken when I made my tumblr so I had to add something else to the beginning, therefore I went with itstheelvenjedi cause it was the closest thing to theelvenjedi and easy for me to remember XD

Following: 229 apparently (oop. I should probably....go through that and trim out the year+ inactive blogs huh o.o)

Followers: 90 (holy crackers where did you all come from LMAO am I really that funny???)

Average hours of sleep: I try to stick to at least 7, sometimes when insomnia hits tho it’s more like 4... >__<

Lucky number: 4 again! I just really dig it, it’s a cool number.

Instruments: I used to play recorder, and I took a couple drum lessons in primary school but couldn’t afford to keep it up ;-; it was fun while it lasted tho!

What am I wearing: ...my pyjamas and a dressing gown. It’s cold and I don’t have to go out or expect visitors today so I’m staying warm. Don’t judge me LOL

Dream job: I would’ve loved to have done either Riding Groom/Jockey (which I might have managed 6 or so years back but uhhh, I can’t handle the physical strain anymore, thanks granny joints!) or Animal Assisted Therapy, but there’s no way I can cope with managing my own business, it’s too much for me qwq A lot of things are Too Much For Me, unfortunately. I will take working checkout at a grocery store at the rate I’m going now tbh.

Dream trip: 1) to visit the gf in Germany and see the Christmas Markets there, and also 2) to go to New Zealand and visit the Hobbit/LotR sets and see all the wildlife :’D

Favorite food: Mac n cheese, it’s just...so good....

Nationality: South African/British (yes, I am in fact dual-national even if my SA passport has expired and I can’t find money to renew it, it’s on my birth certificate and in my blood so HAH)

Favorite song: I have...a few... but uhh Bruno Is Orange - Hop Along Bury Me Face Down - grandson Domestic Bliss - Glass Animals (TW: abuse mention, abusive relationship) Raise Hell - Dorothy Woman King - Iron & Wine Save Rock n Roll - Fall Out Boy Saint Bernard - Lincoln I could go on for a while but these are the ones that oft live in my head rent-free XD

Last book read: I don’t even know, tbh....I haven’t been able to focus on reading in a while 😅

Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in:

1. SWtOR (obviously. Gimme a lightsaber and Force powers, stat!)

2. LotR/The Hobbit

3. ARK: Survival Evolved (I’d prolly get eaten by a t-rex or a spino in like 5 mins but hey, the thought of actually having a bunch of pet prehistoric animals is nice~)

[ashesonthefloor]

all that counts, is here and now (my universe will never be the same)

summary: Michael bumps into the cute pet store worker named Calum and develops a crush. hijinks and lots of pining ensue. did I mention this was a soulmate au? title taken from Glad You Came by the Wanted. part two can be found here, ao3 link here

content rating: PG-13 (cursing, a couple sex jokes because it’s Michael, and lots and lots of pining)

word count: 9488 in total with the second half

A/N: okay hello my long awaited fanfic is HERE. tumblr is homophobic so it’s split into two parts but both are completely done. big shoutout to both @clumsyclifford and @cliiffords for hyping me up. and ofc a major thank you to miss @calumcest who screamed w me about this and is reviving Malum w me. enjoy!

Michael was already running late. But Southy’s leash had broken five minutes into the walk, and he didn’t have a spare at home for him. So he stopped by the pet shelter that was, thankfully, right on his way. It was actually the same place he’d adopted Moose. He knew most of the workers - despite not being the biggest people person - and he got along with them quite well.

So it was that much more surprising when Michael grabbed his leash - green, to match the collar, Southy deserved to match - and headed up to the counter only to find a stranger. Correction, the most gorgeous, handsome, pretty, amazing stranger he’d ever seen in his entire life.

“Hi,” the stranger greeted in a surprisingly genuine customer service voice. “Did you find everything okay?”

“Uh,” Michael said, ever the eloquent speaker, as he shifted Southy slightly in his hold. “Yeah, thanks. Just needed a leash since Southy’s snapped.”

The stranger had just rung the leash up when he seemed to notice the dog. It was obvious when he saw him, because his face lit up and, if Michael was a sappy person, which he obviously wasn’t, he would’ve said his eyes sparkled. “Is this Southy?”

Michael nodded, shifting him yet again before holding him out to let the man pet him. It turned out to be the right choice as he watched him coo happily over the dog, letting Southy sniff his hand before giving him a good pet. The man - whose name was Calum, according to the name tag he was now at the right angle to notice - seemed to love dogs an awful lot for someone who worked with them.

“Hi, Southy. Are you enjoying your walk? It’s nice out today, I bet you are. I bet you’ll enjoy it more once your leash is all fixed,” Calum talked to the dog, before rubbing his head again before giving Michael another happy grin and god, Michael was pretty sure he was in love. His cheeks squished up when he smiled in a way that Michael had never seen before, and was confident he would never see again. Not only that, but it actually reached his eyes. He looks genuinely happy. “Thanks. I like getting to say hello to our real customers.”

Michael stared at him for just a beat too long before giving him a grin of his own. And maybe he was a little pink. Maybe. “Yeah, no problem. Southy’s pretty relaxed. I’m actually taking him to volunteer at a nursing home right now. Normally my friend is the one with him but I agreed to go this time.” Why did he tell him that? He talked too much.

Calum gave him another smile before smiling at Southy. “I’m sure he’ll be great at it. He seems like a good therapy dog. And just an all around good boy.”

Michael smiled a little more. Calum got it. “He’s trained to be that way.” He frowned suddenly. “Oh, fuck. I was already running late.” He pulled his phone out to glance at the time. “Oh fuck, now I’m really late.” He handed Calum some cash and took the leash when he handed it over. “Keep the change. Uh, nice to meet you, I’ve got to go.”

He turned and moved quickly towards the door, trying not to fumble in front of the cute stranger. He clipped the leash to Southy’s collar and hurried to the nursing home.

————————

As expected, Ashton wasn’t pleased with him for being so late. He’d given him the ‘we’re definitely talking about this later’ look, since he was with one of the residents and couldn’t exactly just start grilling him the way he wanted to. Which spared Michael the awkwardness of having to explain that his alarm hadn’t gone off and then Southy’s leash had broken - he still had no idea how that happened - and then he’d met the most handsome man he’d ever seen in his life who was going to be in his dreams for the next year at least.

“Do you want to explain why you were so late?” Ashton finally had a chance to ask when Southy was curled up on Ethel’s lap, her wrinkled hand shakily stroking his little head. Michael pulled his eyes away to look at Ashton.

“Not really.” Michael enjoyed being difficult sometimes.

“Okay. Explain why you were late and I had to keep everyone in the activity hall for an extra thirty minutes,” Ashton said, leaving much less room for argument. Michael was never sure if he hated it when he did that or if it was kind of amusing just how well he knew him.

“Sure, daddy.” Ashton aimed a kick at his leg, lowkey enough to be missed by the elderly residents. Michael managed to clumsily avoid it, dumb grin still on his lips. The nickname had come up at some point in their friendship and he’d never dropped it, much to Ashton’s chagrin. He was a little more resigned to it now, though he never really appreciated it. Especially at the place he was volunteering. With easily scandalized (probably, Michael wouldn’t really know) old people.

“So I got Southy and we left the apartment. And then his fucking-“ Ashton gave him a look. This was why Michael called him daddy “-leash snapped, so I had to stop by and get a new one. And then I met the love of my life. Ashton, he’s gorgeous. I’m pretty sure he could bench press me if he tried, he has the greatest biceps in the entire world. Better than yours, even. I know, we thought that was impossible. It’s not. And he wanted to pet Southy and he called him a good boy. So yeah, pretty sure he’s the love of my life and now I need to figure out how to propose. Is offering him my still beating heart a little outdated? Should I go with an engagement ring?”

Watching Ashton’s normally well-kept expression shift through like eight different emotions - and probably the four stages of grief - was just a testament to how ridiculous he was being. He considered it a personal achievement. His current record was nine different emotions. Of course, it was Ashton , so half of it was just in the eyes and eyebrows, but it counted.

“So he was cute?” Ashton finally answered, seeing through about nine layers of Michael’s descriptive, hyperbolic imagery. He wasn’t fun anymore.

“Very,” Michael agreed, glancing back over at Southy to make sure he was fine. He looked like he was living his best life with all the attention.

“And now you’re convinced he’s the love of your life?”

“Absolutely.”

Ashton nodded. “Three diamonds.”

“You think? I don’t want it to be flashy. Just something that says ‘hi, I’m in love with you, and your jawline is sharp enough to cut me, and I’d be honoured to let you bend me-”

“Michael,” Ashton warned, glancing over at Dorothy who was looking at them with some sort of amusement. At least she wasn’t scandalized? 

“Okay, okay. I’ll fill you in later, I guess, since you don’t love me.” Michael just gave him a small, dramatic little pout. Ashton was, unfortunately, immune.

“Or you can tell me how in love you’re in with this stranger now, minus all the graphic imagery,” Ashton pointed out, ever the reasonable party. Except when he liked someone. He was just as bad. Worse, Michael would say, but Ashton didn’t agree.

“Fine, fine. He’s gorgeous, Ashton. And he liked Southy. He called him a good boy.”

“Do you even know his name?” Ashton had been through all of Michael’s crushes on random strangers. 

“Calum,” Michael said, a little triumphantly, with a smug little smile.

“Does he know yours?”

Michael went to answer before pausing. He flushed a little. “Oh, fuck, I forgot to do that part. I was in such a hurry I didn’t even tell him my name.”

Ashton just looked at him for a moment. “Are you going to talk to him again?”

The obvious answer should’ve been yes, given that Michael was genuinely interested in getting to know him. And since he was the love of his life, of course. But he hesitated. It would seem weird to just start hanging around the pet shop now, wouldn’t it? He didn’t want to freak him out.

Ashton shook his head, clearly mildly exasperated by his best friend. “Alright, We’ll talk about it later.” He smiled, moving forward. “Ready for someone else to have a turn with Southy, Ethel?”

————————

“You should just talk to him if you like him that much,” Ashton said several days later, giving Michael a look that meant he really just knew him way too well.

“I don’t know. He probably forgot about me already.” Michael frowned, taking a bite of the pizza Ashton had been nice enough to order. He knew arguing with Michael was a bit pointless sometimes, so he’d learned to just give in and stop prolonging the inevitable. He loved him. 

“You won’t know unless you go see him. Besides, he still doesn’t know your name. What if he’s thinking about you too and hoping you swing by again?” Michael hated it when Ashton was reasonable. It was helpful, though. But he just liked being dramatic sometimes. 

“I don’t know...” Michael said, taking another bite of pizza. “How often do I really need to go to the pet store? Not that often. Wouldn’t it be weird if I just kept going? And what if he’s not there? There’s so many ways this could go wrong, Ashton, I can’t just keep going and hoping he’s there. That’ll kill my soul.”

“So you’re finally admitting you have one?” Ashton grabbed a slice of his own pizza - Michael still hadn’t managed to convince him that Hawaiian was the best, much to his own chagrin. Michael tried to punch his arm before letting out a much-longer-than-necessary-sigh and leaning back in his chair. “Really, Mikey, just go talk to him.” Ashton’s voice was much gentler this time, expression very knowing. Michael wasn’t sure if he hated it, or he appreciated it. “Tell him your name. Ask him out. I promise you it isn’t as scary as you think it is.”

Michael paused. “What if he says no? They have the best prices and they all know me. I can’t just switch pet stores to avoid him after he inevitably breaks my heart.”

“What happened to proposing? I thought he was the love of your life?” Why did Ashton have to have such a good memory? It was infuriating. “Seriously. Stop by, look at some dog toys, and see if he’s there. If he is, ask him on a date. It’s that simple. You won’t have to switch pet stores. He might say yes. If not, you just ignore him when you go in. It’ll be fine.”

Michael frowned. “Fine. Maybe. But first, I want to beat your ass in Call of Duty.” It wasn’t Michael’s favourite, but Ashton was horrible at it, so it was a little fun just to watch him struggle. They always ended up switching to Mario Kart or FIFA or something so Ashton’s little grandpa ass didn’t struggle so much. He was a nice friend. He loved him, really.

Ashton shrugged. “Sure. But I’ll just even the score later on.”

———————— 

Michael hesitated outside the door to the pet shop. He probably looked like a freak just standing there, trying to figure out whether it was worth it to go in or not. Eventually, he decided that it was. Maybe because he wanted to see his future husband again. Maybe because Ashton would keep annoying him if he didn’t. It was like a 60/40 split between the two.

He finally managed to work up enough confidence to actually go inside. He’d only stood there for a minute or two before he was greeted by the familiar customer service voice.

“Hi! Welcome to Paws and Claws. How can I help you?”

Michael turned to look at the absolute Adonis of a man who had occupied his thoughts since he’d first met him. He saw recognition on his face, and then Calum was smiling a little wider, a little more genuine.

“Glad to see you again! No puppy this time?”

“No,” Michael managed to get out. Had he fixed his hair before he came in? He didn’t think so. He really hoped he did. “He had to stay at home. I think he just wanted a nap.”

“What a shame! He was almost as cute as his owner.” Calum bent over to pick up a dog toy, and Michael definitely didn’t glance down. Calum walked over to put it away, and it wasn’t until then that his words registered and he flushed dark. “So what are you looking for?” Calum asked, looking over at him.

“Uh. They just need a new toy. One of them broke this morning.” Michael really needed to get his shit together. He was being embarrassing.

“Oh no! We can’t have that. What kind of toy do you want?” Why did Calum have to be so goddamn nice? Michael was dying. Or going to die. Or in the middle of dying.

“Anything, I guess. Southy and Moose really like to chew.”

“You have two dogs?” Calum beamed, looking at the array of toys to find a couple that would work.

“Yeah. Southy’s, uh, my ESA. And I wanted another one besides just him.” He wasn’t sure if he should say that. Some people were weird about it. Maybe Calum would think he was a freak now and would never accept his proposal.

“That’s sweet. Southy was really well behaved. And the more the merrier with dogs, I always say. I want another one.” Calum came back over to him. “Here’s some good ones! We’ve gotten some really good reviews on them, and we use them a lot for the dogs we have here.”

“You have a dog?” With how much Calum liked other people’s, he wouldn’t have expected that. It seemed like he was just getting his dog fix through other people. Interesting. “Oh, I only need one.”

Calum beamed. “Yeah. He’s staying with my sister since I just moved into a new apartment and had to work some things out with my landlord to let him stay. I miss him, though.” His cheeks did that cute squishy thing. Michael didn’t know how or why it happened but he was in love with it. “They’re buy one get one free right now. You could get a toy for each dog and make it fair.”

Michael nodded a little bit. “I get that. I get pretty upset if I’m separated from mine.” Poor Calum. He must really miss his dog. “That...yeah, okay.” He didn’t really need more toys. But Calum was a fantastic salesman so he couldn’t really turn him down. He’d already lied and said he needed toys, so why wouldn’t Calum try and sell him some? It made sense. It was fine. He’d just live in an apartment covered in dog toys.

“Perfect! I’ll ring you up.” He led him over to the counter with the toys, scanning both of them.

Now was Michael’s chance. He could tell him his name. And that he was in love with him. “Um. I’m Michael, by the way.”

Calum gave him a sweet smile. “I’m Calum.”

“I know. You’re wearing a name tag,” Michael pointed out. Which turned out to be the right thing to do since Calum flushed a little bit.

“Oh. Right. I forgot i was wearing it,” he said with an embarrassed little laugh. He gave Michael his total and Michael paid, taking the toys from him.

“You should bring your dogs by sometime. We have half off bathing next week.” He gave him another happy smile and gave him a flyer for the next week.

“Right. Yeah. I think I will. Moose could use a bath.”

Another smile. “Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

————————

“Isn’t he perfect?” Michael lamented to Ashton later on that evening. There was a long pause from the other side of the phone.

“He sounds great. Like you need to ask him on a date.”

“I can’t do that, Ash! I don’t even know if he likes me. And I can’t just ask him out while he’s at work. I’ll just have to love him from afar until I can propose.”

Ashton was quiet for a moment. “Just ask him out. It sounds like you really like him. More than all your other weird crushes. I think you should ask him out. Or at least see if he’d be interested in grabbing dinner or a coffee or something.”

Michael considered it. “I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t want to rush things. He probably doesn’t like me. I’ve just been an idiot in front of him.”

“You’re an idiot in front of everyone. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.”

“But it probably does. He probably hates me.” Michael frowned. “You’re awful at comfort.”

“I know, it’s my main skill. Being horrible at comfort. I put it on all my resumés.” Michael could hear the smile in Ashton’s voice. He wanted to pretend it annoyed him. But the familiarity was kind of comforting.

“I’ve got to go, Mikey. But I’ll call you tomorrow, right? And you’re still working this weekend? I’ll see you then too.”

“Yeah, I am. Talk to you tomorrow, mate.”

————————

Michael slept in late the next morning. He always did on his days off. He groaned at the noise of his phone going off incessantly. He figured they’d stop calling. And really, there was only one person it could really be. Ashton was the only person that ever really called him. Because he was a fucking grandpa like that. Sometimes it was his mum but really, Ashton was more likely.

The third time he called, Michael finally picked up. “What?” He asked, sleepy and pissed about being woken up.

“Are you watching the news?”

“No. It’s fucking nine in the morning, who watches the news now? Old people. That’s who-“

“Michael, turn the TV on.”

“Ashton, it’s early-“

“I’m serious. You know soulmates?” Of course Michael did. Everyone had to hear about them. They were rare, but they existed. They were people who had what looked like tattoos, indicating who their soulmate was. Supposedly there were quite a few benefits, but no one could decisively say what they were for everyone, given that they were so rare there wasn’t much research they could do.

“No shit I do. What’s up with them?”

“Everyone has a soulmate now. Overnight, something happened. Everyone’s got tattoos and the entire world is up in flames trying to find their soulmate,” Ashton said, voice rushed. “There’s weird catches for some people. They’re saying- be quiet, just a minute.”

Michael’s eyes widened. Fuck. That was kind of a huge deal. He yanked the covers back - fuck, the air was cold. He regretted doing that immediately - and stumbled into the living room. He was pretty much entirely awake now, jolted into the life of the living by the news. He fumbled with the remote to turn the news on.

“-it seems that some people have tattoos of their soulmate’s names. But most people are getting tattoos representative of their soulmates. Something related to them, or something they treasure. There seems to be a catch, however, so that some people are only getting soulmate markings after meeting their soulmate. This is causing global panic as people begin to take time off to search for their soulmates-“

Michael stopped paying attention again. “Do you have one?” He practically demanded.

“I don’t know! I saw what was happening and called you first because I knew you were missing it.” Damn Ashton being a good friend.

“Well go look!”

“Aren’t you going to look for yours?”

“No, I already know I probably have, like, four. Everyone loves me. But you’re unlovable so it’s more important. I need to know it I was right about that.”

He could practically hear Ashton’s eye roll. The next time he spoke, it was echoey. He was in his bathroom. “I found mine,” he said, normally stable voice a little shaky. “It’s on my bicep.”

“Better than it being on your ass,” Michael pointed out.

“Yours will be on your ass if karma has anything to say about it,” Ashton quipped back.

“Hurry up. What is it?”

“It’s a lamington. It’s got writing on it, I think. Fuck. I can’t read it in the mirror.”

“You have a fucking lamington? Who loves lamingtons enough for that? Take a picture of it so you can see the words.” Which was a genius idea. Michael was a genius.

“Fine, give me just a-“

“Wait, don’t do that, just come over here and let me read it.”

There was a beat before Ashton answered. “What? Why? I can just find out now. What’s yours?”

“I haven’t looked yet. Just come over,” Michael practically pleaded. Not that he’d admit it.

Ashton seemed to recognize the tone of Michael’s voice, and that he wanted someone to be there when he looked. That he was scared he wouldn’t actually have a mark and everyone else would get their soulmates except for him.

“Fine. I’ll be there in ten.”

There was the click of the line as Ashton hung up and Michael was left alone again. The news reporters on the TV were the only thing filling the silence, still droning on about the ‘soulmate phenomenon’, as they were calling it. Michael didn’t care. He just wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he pulled his sweatshirt off and saw nothing but pale skin. He wasn’t going to have a soulmate mark. There was a heavy feeling in his gut that told him that. He wasn’t going to handle it well, and he’d ruin Ashton’s enjoyment of having a soulmate. He was an awful friend.

He was pulled out of his self deprecation By a knock at the door. And, dammit, why didn’t Ashton just walk in like Michael did? He walked over to the door to open the door and let Ashton in.

“I can’t believe you made me wait to figure out who my-“ Ashton started, only to be cut off by Michael.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for coming. How do you know where it is?”

“You mean what if it’s on your ass?” Damn Ashton and that smug little smile. He thought he was funny. And okay, maybe it was, but Michael had said it first.

“Fuck off. I mean really.”

“You look, Mikey. I didn’t just magically know where mine was. You have to go somewhere with a mirror and look. Since I’m here now you could just strip, but the mirror option might leave me with my sight intact.”

“Fuck off-“

“You said that already.”

“You’re not getting a strip show for free anyway.” So with that Michael made his way to the bathroom. Passive (and completely pretend) annoyance gave him the energy necessary to lock the door and strip off his sweatshirt. He looked at himself in the mirror, hair messy and sticking up everywhere, and bags under his eyes. Really, fuck Ashton Irwin - and the universe - for waking him up so early.

As far as he could see, there wasn’t a soulmate mark. Not on his neck, or his face. He was still in his shirt, rumpled from sleeping in it, and it made it harder. But he just had that terror, that he would be blank. The entire world was getting soulmates and he was going to be blank. He’d be a freak. He didn’t want to be left out. Especially not on this.

God. He was alone. He didn’t have a soulmate. He was starting to come to grips with that, alone in the bathroom. Fuck. He should’ve just let Ashton break it to him. He could be nice. But this way he could have his breakdown in private. He gripped the sides of the sink, ready to curl down into himself and maybe never come back out. He started leaning down when he froze. Right there, on his forearm, was the mark. He slowly let go of the sink, bringing his arm up in quiet amazement to stare at it.

Holy fuck. He had a soulmate. Out there in the world, somewhere, living, breathing, existing, was his soulmate. Someone was meant for him. He brushed the pad of one finger over it gingerly, as if to test if it was real. It didn’t come off. Which was a good sign.

After affirming that it was real, that he really had a soulmate, he focused on the design. Which was...yeah. That was a thing. It was a happy dog sitting down, his tail mid wag, with numbers right beneath him reading 1251996. That was helpful. He definitely didn’t know anyone that connected to the tattoo. So his soulmate existed, he just didn’t know where they were. Great.

He yanked the door open and came out to look at Ashton. “I have a tattoo,” he said, a little gleefully.

“No shit. What is it?”

“It’s a dog with some weird numbers.”

“Show me.” Ashton held his arm once Michael offered it, looking at the tattoo. “Shit. We’ve got soulmates. Do you know anyone-“

“No. I’ve never seen the dog in my life and I have no idea what the numbers mean. Is my soulmate a fucking prisoner?”

“I don’t know. You’ve had it for all of an hour, don’t be so negative. I’m sure you’ll find your soulmate. Maybe you’ll get a nice tingle when you meet him-“

“Shut up, Ashton. What’s yours say?”

Ashton rolled his short sleeve up to reveal the tattoo. Like he’d said, it was a lamington, with sweet intricate letters on top of it.

“Luke,” Michael read aloud. “It says Luke.”

“Do you think that’s his name?” Ashton asked, looking surprisingly soft and vulnerable. No wonder. This was his soulmate.

“Yeah. Probably. You’re in love with some guy named Luke. Do you know anyone named Luke?”

Ashton shook his head. “No. I don’t.” He frowned a little.

“At least you’ve got it easy. You can just pop in places and try and find someone named Luke with a tattoo with stuff about you. How am I supposed to find the owner of the dog?”

“We could make a flyer?” Ashton suggested. Always so reasonable. “I’m sure there are groups online for it. We can join those. We’ll find you your soulmate, Mike, I promise.”

Michael nodded, comforted by Ashton’s ever present ability to come up with plans. It sounded like a good one, anyway. “Want to order a pizza?”

Ashton laughed. “Is that the only thing on your mind? Yeah, I guess. But I can always go grab it, the place is just around the corner.”

“You just want to look for Luke.” Michael pouted. Ashton flushed. So he wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah, but I can grab you some of those sweets you like from the bakery?”

Michael perked up immediately. “The sugar buns?” They were like heaven, sweet balls of dough rolled in some magical kind of sugar. He was addicted to them.

“Yeah. Those. I’ll be back in fifteen. Unless you want to come?” Ashton offered, though he seemed skeptical. And rightly so.

Michael crinkled his nose. “And deal with people? Absolutely not. Shoo, peasant. Go get me my pizza.”

Ashton just laughed his way out the door, leaving Michael back alone with his thoughts. About his soulmate. He had honestly no idea who it could be. His dating life had been rough lately. And by rough, he hadn’t actually seen anyone in over a year. Life just hadn’t really made any room for it. He’d focused his energy on his fleeting crushes. Soft brown eyes and squishy cheeks and a smile that made him feel warm inside drifted back into his thoughts. Calum. He wondered what Calum was feeling at the moment. They’d only talked a handful of times now. He wasn’t his soulmate. Calum probably had someone taller. More attractive. More deserving of him.

That was a little depressing. He sighed, frowning and slumping against the couch. He wished he’d actually gone with Ashton and braved the people just so he didn’t have to be alone with his thoughts. His phone buzzed, loud in the silence, against the coffee table where he’d left it. He answered it, a little unsure why he was being called.

“Hello?”

“Hey. I found him, Mike. I found him.”

“Found who, Ashton?” Why did he choose now to not explain?

“Luke.” Oh. Oh. Fuck. He’d found his soulmate-

“Already?! How the fuck is that even possible?”

“He works at the bakery. He said- he was saying lamingtons were his favourite of what they offered, and I asked his name. He said it’s Luke. He offered to tell me his tattoo once he gets off. He gets off in fifteen minutes-“

“Go,” Michael said, once there was a pause in Ashton’s excited and slightly frantic words. “Go find out his tattoo. Spend some time with him. I’ll just go pick up the pizza and have some time to think.”

“Are you sure? I can always come back after and just get his number.”

“I’m sure, Ash. He sounds nice. You’d do the same for me. I’m happy for you. Really. Go bond with him. Romance him. Take him out for dinner. Really woo him and give me the good details tomorrow.”

There was a pause, before a relieved. “Thank you. I’ll call tomorrow, I swear. Talk later.” Before there was a click, indicating that Ashton had left him for his lover.

That was fast. Ashton had already found his soulmate. Michael wondered, idly, what it felt like. To know who you belonged with. At least he knew someone out there belonged with him. It was just a matter of finding them.

He’d maybe look for one of the online groups that Ashton had suggested later. For now, he was going to pick up his pizza and enjoy it, even if he was stuck by himself. So he grabbed his keys (he wouldn’t forget them now, not after having locked himself out four times since moving in) and pulled his sweatshirt back on for extra protection before trudging outside.

It was gorgeous out, a crisp feeling in the air indicating the turning of seasons coming soon. Michael wasn’t sure if he should feel elated or not. He was all mixed up inside, and didn’t know where to begin sorting it out. Normally, he talked to Ashton and he helped him begin untangled the complicated web of his emotions. But he was currently occupied. So he’d have to do it himself. Or ignore it and wait. Which sounded much better at the moment.

He almost tripped over a dog, since he had his hoodie up over his head, having to stumble a bit to catch his balance.

“Sorry! Rocko likes getting in peoples way. Are you okay?” The stranger walking said dog asked immediately. Though, there was something familiar about his voice that had his gut churning. In a good or a bad way, Michael couldn’t decide.

He looked up from beneath his hoodie, shocked to see Calum standing there. Calum from the pet store. Recognition dawned on Calum’s face and he gave him a happy smile. “Hey!” Calum said, tone just as happy. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too.” Michael gave him a smile, albeit a slightly strained one. Couldn’t he see he was having a crisis? And mourning what could have been between them? Calum was gorgeous and loved dogs and seemed so nice. He could’ve been his soulmate. But he was stuck with a stupid prisoner or something. Not that he minded too much. Any soulmate was good. Any at all. As long as they weren’t, like, a murderer or something. That would be pretty bad.

“How have you been? All the news this morning has been crazy. I think my phone’s been blowing up since before I woke up.” Calum’s face squished up in that weirdly endearing way that happened when he smiled sometimes. It definitely didn’t make Michael’s chest flip around. Or his heart flutter. He wasn’t sappy like that. He had a soulmate somewhere.

“Mine too. My friend Ashton called me like eight times to make me wake up at nine am just so I could watch the news.” Which was fair, actually. It was a monumental event. Ashton was nice to not let Michael sleep through it. Not that he’d ever say that out loud. He knew anyway. “Then he was rude enough to offer to order pizza and then ditch me to find his soulmate.”

Calum laughed and, wow, that was Michael’s new favourite sound. It did something absolutely weird to his belly that he didn’t understand at all. It was like some sort of flip floppy butterfly thing. He didn’t entirely hate it. “At least you didn’t sleep through it! I feel so bad for all the people without marks. I hope they end up with them eventually, if that’s what they want.” He paused, gaze focusing on Michael. “Do you have a mark?” Before Michael could try and figure out what to say, Calum was waving it off. “Sorry, Sorry. That’s awfully personal. You said you’re grabbing pizza, right? From Alfredo’s around the corner, by any chance?”

Michael didn’t even know what to think about all of that. Did Calum have a soulmate? Had he found them already? He really didn’t know. And he especially didn’t know why he was so fucking attached to the guy from the pet store who reminded him of a puppy. “Yeah, actually. They make the greatest pizzas. It’s a crime to order anywhere else if you can avoid it.”

Calum grinned, face doing that squishy-cheek thing again. “That’s right on my way! I can walk with you, if you’d like?”

And yeah. That sounded really nice to Michael. Of course he’d like. “Sounds good to me.” It sort of hit him then, that this was Calum’s dog. And he felt his heart sink right down into his gut where it died. There was no chance for him to be his soulmate now. Not at all. Rocko, the giant German Shepard he was walking, didn’t match the clearly small dog tattooed on his arm. At least it was still covered by his sweatshirt so they didn’t have to make awkward chit chat about it. “It’s great weather outside for dog walking,” Michael said, just because he was a masochist and enjoyed causing himself pain.

“It really is. I think Rocko will actually be worn out, which is an impressive feat. He’s hard to wear out sometimes. He’s young, so he has more energy.”

Michael nodded. He was still, irrationally, hurt that the love of his life, this man he’d talked to maybe three times, wasn’t his soulmate. Who the fuck else could it be? He hadn’t met anyone new in the last few weeks. Oh fuck. What if it was a customer? He’d met plenty of those. God, that would suck so bad. It would be so much harder to find his soulmate that way. And he’d have to hate them because they were a customer. “I don’t have that problem, really. I just have small dogs so they’re easy to wear out.”

“Southy,” Calum remembered, pleased with himself. “And...oh fuck, don’t tell me. I’ll remember it.” He paused for a moment, presumably to think. “Moose! Moose moose moose.”

Michael smiled despite himself and his insistence on staying in a foul mood. It was sweet that he actually remembered his dogs’ names. “Yeah. That’s them.”

“And Southy’s your ESA. Right. I remember.”

Michael just nodded a little bit. Calum had a good memory. Much better than his, his was shit. Except for when it came to whoever’s turn it was to order pizza, or Ashton’s mistakes. “Yeah.”

“He’s the good boy.” Calum smiled at him, and Michael’s stomach started doing somersaults. Not his heart. That was too cheesy.

“Yeah. He is.” Michael was an idiot. He sounded like a broken record. Couldn’t he find something else to say other than yeah?

“How did the nursing home go? That was where you were taking him, right?”

Damn Calum and his genius memory. “Yeah, it was. And it went really well. The old people really like him. I could do without the old women trying to squeeze my face, though.”

Calum laughed and oh, okay, maybe being a dork was a little worth it if he got reactions like that. “My friend’s grandma does that a lot. I get it. They mean well but, man, my poor face!”

All too soon, they ended up reaching Alfredo’s. Michael hadn’t bumped into him too far away from it and there wasn’t a good way for him to drag the conversation out any longer. Not without being painfully obvious, at least. He gave Calum a slightly reluctant smile. “Right. Here we are I guess.”

“Alright, well, enjoy your pizza! I’ll see you soon?” Calum seemed pretty genuine about it. But he always did. So who knew if he was being real.

“Yeah, hopefully.” Hopefully? Yeah again? Michael was an idiot. “Uh. See you.” He went into Alfredo’s, regretting every single thing he’d said in his entire life, and his own birth.

————————

Michael decided against going in to see Calum again for a while. He needed proper time to process. And think about his soulmate. Ashton had helped him look online for his. They’d had no luck so far. No one had anything relating to Michael at all. Which sucked.

“Maybe it’s defective,” he’d said one day, backwards on the couch with his head hanging over the edge while Ashton scoured the internet in search of Michael’s soulmate. “Maybe I really don’t have one and this is just a cruel trick.”

“Or maybe you’re dramatic and we just haven’t found them yet.” Damn Ashton. Not even letting him whine.

They’d continued looking, but nothing had come up. Luke, though, was nice. Michael had gotten to meet him about a week after the day him and Ashton had meet. He was sweet, if not a little awkward. He worked at the bakery, though, so more often than not he brought sweets to Ashton and sometimes he’d let Michael have some. He was pretty great.

Ashton was happy. He could see it in the smitten way he looked at Luke when he thought he wasn’t looking. In the way he smiled in that fond way he reserved just for him when Luke was rambling on about something, in the way he reassured him when Luke got embarrassed afterward. And Michael was happy for him, really. But he was a little jealous inside somewhere, just because it had been so easy for him. He’d found Luke right after he’d gotten his soulmate mark. There was no worry, no feeling like part of you was wandering out in the world with no way to track it down. He had it easy. And Michael thought that that might make it harder for Ashton to understand what he was going through.

Michael didn’t really know how to explain the feeling. It was just sort of...wrong. Like his heart ached all the time for someone he didn’t know and had never met but somehow he knew he was missing. It felt like he’d lost some part of himself somehow and that was just the scariest part of the whole thing. Because he was still Michael, nothing had changed about that. Except for the tattoo. Ashton seemed to sense that he needed to be left alone about it, so he didn’t tease too much. He was nice, gave him enough distance to process but not so much that he felt unsupported. Michael was grateful. But he was frustrated.

————————

He almost managed to put Calum out of his mind entirely. For the time being, at least. He was so wrapped up in his feelings and his mini spiral and focusing on his soulmate and how weird it felt not being around him, he didn’t have much time or mental energy leftover to dwell on the guy who was still pretty much a stranger.

That all came crashing down the following week, when him and Ashton worked another shift together. They’d worked at the coffee shop together for close to two years. Ashton, being the person he was, had eventually become manager. A position that he didn’t mind so much but Michael liked to poke fun at. Because he was nice.

“Have you seen him again?” Ashton asked, between handing a coffee to a customer with a smile and taking another order. “Calum?”

“No,” Michael grumbled, frowning as he grabbed a cup to make another drink. “Why would I?”

“You said you were in love with him. Why aren’t you at least figuring out if he’s your soulmate?” Ashton glanced over at him. “I need another iced mocha with extra whip.”

Michael sighed, looking at him. “Because he’s definitely got a soulmate that isn’t me. I can feel it Ashton. In my soul. He’s not interested in me and I’ll have to just scrap the proposal and suck it up.”

“You don’t know that. You could always ask him. I need an iced mocha with extra whip.”

“But I do. I don’t have to ask to know that. And why would I bother making a fool of myself when I already know that he’s got another soulmate somewhere?”

“Michael. Iced mocha. Extra whip. And you don’t know that, you’d just rather not ask than-“

Michael didn’t catch anything else he said. He’d finally started on the stupid coffee - which, really, it was more sugar than coffee so he hoped whoever fucking ordered it enjoyed their sugary heart attack at one pm on a Tuesday - when he’d glanced up. And that was an awful idea. Because the next person who entered the shop, complete with the little jingle of the bell over the door, was Calum.

“Welcome to Great Awakenings,” Ashton started in once Calum approached the counter. “What can I get you?”

Michael was staring. Openly. So when Calum smiled and looked over at him, he ducked down beneath the counter to try and avoid looking like an idiot. The only problem was, he spilled the jug of milk he’d been using for the mocha over his head. Ashton heard the clang of the metal hitting the floor and turned to look with a frown, taking in Michael on the floor covered in milk.

“Michael?” He asked, slightly startled. Michael wasn’t even sure how he ended up in this situation. The only explanation he could come up with was that the universe obviously hated him. First, introducing him to Calum and then not making him his soulmate. And now this. He was going to have to fight the universe. He was pulled out of his burning embarrassment by Ashton’s voice. “You go take your break. I think I’ve got an extra shirt or two in my car. I’ll...finish up here.”

Michael stood, chancing only the slightest glance at Calum with his face burning and completely drenched in milk, before he trudged out the back to Ashton’s car in search of a clean shirt and his dignity.

————————

Michael never did bother talking about it. Ashton had put two and two together and, after a couple unsuccessful attempts at asking, dropped the subject all together. Well...for all of four days, at least. That seemed to be Ashton’s limit, since he brought it up again when he’d invited Michael out to grab coffee. Somewhere else other than their work, thankfully. He’d invited Luke to join, with Michael’s approval, since they were trying to work out their dynamic. Which was fine. Everything was fine. He was running late, which gave Ashton the perfect opportunity to try and lecture him.

“Why don’t you just ask him, Mike? You’re sitting around making yourself miserable. The least you can do is ask and actually have a reason for being miserable.”

“Ew. Don’t call me that. And I’m not going to ask him because I already fucking know the answer and I’m not embarrassing myself for the second time in front of him. You don’t get it. Just because everything’s perfect for you and Luke doesn’t mean it’s perfect for everyone else.” Michael regrets his words as soon as he sees something like hurt flash across Ashton’s face. He doesn’t like feeling guilty. Or hurting Ashton’s feelings. It’s...difficult to do, and Michael should’ve been better at avoiding it considering how long they’d been friends. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice softer. “I just mean...you found your soulmate fifteen minutes after getting your mark. And that’s great. I’m happy for you. But it’s not like that for me. I’m..still looking. We haven’t had any luck finding whoever I’m supposed to be with. There’s no point in assuming it’s Calum.”

Before Ashton can give what would probably be an annoyingly reasonable answer, Luke makes his way over. He kind of reminds Michael of a newborn calf. Long legs and a little bit awkward. He smiled, with the same smitten look Ashton always gave him, and sat next to him, pecking his cheek. Gross. “Hey, what did I miss?”

“Michael is lamenting about his lack of soulmate. And how he won’t ask the man he insists is the love of his life what his soulmate mark is.” Michael glared daggers at Ashton, offended that he’d reveal such personal information to anyone. What a jerk.

“Oh. Why don’t you just ask him?” Luke asked, tilting his head.

“Because they’ve only talked four times and Michael insists that it isn’t helpful. Because he obviously already has a soulmate.” Ashton sipped his coffee with a disconcertingly knowing look. He didn’t like that look on him. Not at all.

“You don’t know that, though,” Luke pointed out, lips pulling into a frown. “I thought Ashton did too, until I found out he didn’t. Who is this guy?”

“His name’s Calu-“

“If you tell him, Ashton, I’m not coming to your wedding and I’m never going to cover a shift for you ever again-“

Luke looked startled at the revelation. “Calum? Like, pet store Calum?”

It was Michael’s turn to be shocked. “Wait, you know him?”

Luke’s startled expression didn’t shift. “Yeah, he’s my best friend.” He stared at Michael for a very long moment. “Oh my god. What is it?”

Michael felt lost in like eight different ways. He didn’t even know where to begin. “What is what?”

“Your mark. What is it?”

That really didn’t help Michael’s confusion at all. He just felt worse. “It’s a dog. With some weird numbers. I don’t see what that has to do-“

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Luke said, shaking his head. “You’re both so stupid. So fucking stupid.”

Michael frowned. That wasn’t very nice. “What’s wrong with you-“

“He’s got two dogs. And a strand of numbers.” Luke looked at him, expression somewhere between incredulous and pained.

And oh. Oh. Oh. That changed...a lot of things. “But how do you know it’s him? We could be wrong about it. Maybe it’s not...maybe it’s...”

“Where is your mark? Can I see it?” Michael didn’t like showing it off much. But Luke was sweet and trying to help so he rolled up his sleeve. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. That’s Duke.”

“Who’s Duke?” Ashton chimed in, though his smug expression said he already knew. Michael wasn’t even sure he actually wanted to know.

“Calum’s dog. He loves him to death. You both are so- he saw your mark on that group for people who haven’t found their soulmates but he thought you didn’t like him. When he saw you getting at the coffee shop, he was going to tell you, but after you ducked down to get away from him, he figured that you probably didn’t like him and wanted to pretend he wasn’t your soulmate.”

The new information sent him reeling. It took him a couple of moments to process before his brain was capable of functioning again. “I thought his dog was Rocko,” he finally said, a little dumbly.

Luke shook his head. “That’s his neighbor’s dog. He agreed to take him on a walk after she had to go visit her mum in the hospital.”

Michael was silent for another couple of moments. “So he doesn’t hate me?”

“No, he thought you hated him. He was excited.”

Another few moments of silent contemplation. “I’ll be right back. I have an...errand to run.” He pushed back from the table and left, leaving his iced coffee on the table.

[t-underneaththeradardancing]

finally - i dont gaf about the arty fact that its reality a crescent - im just happy to see it - so imma write a crappy poem w artifice - maybe - or jest irony and double entendres  

not really good about wishing the holidays - i try a bit and then - but hallelujah anyway and happy new year on the western front  - duz t spend more time on the lunar - maybe but not too - i mean the moon is everyday magic vital 

like music  - finally today after almost a month ( maybe more t ) im enjoying playing  -  fuck tho please - no more drama - lol  - sometimes t uh over reacts -lack of info and overthinking fear usually  - someone wise - a witch of course reminded me im just in a rawk n roll  life and aging - she didnt mention the aging  - i forgetz imma old as fuck for hourz - til vita asks if im ok if i looks illin - and even then if im chillen  -  i forget they just babies  - i forget just exactly how fucked up i waz for so long cuz i usually was high functioning and fortunate - except when i wuznt and i prolly didnt fool ppl as much as i thot 

there but for grace and love - and dumb luck witch maybe same  

7 hours recording tomorrow  - then 2 more sessions at another studio  - maybe enuff - idk  

oh my yes a kitty and a good one  and yes we still do the usual daily 

and my murder - i think i saw fed and talked w every one  

no resolutions  - fuck i be happy to make it thru another winter and not lose another step - i can tread water long time  ( t u havent had to tread water in fukking years - yah muscle memory but they weaker )  - have  u ever wondered what happen if dorothy had surrendered  or is that walpurgis repenting  - leaving no rolling stone unturned on the path not taken  - y am i thinking Absalom izzit from alice - or faulkner  - both only w an e  - no i aint got a hookah  - we gotta name or rename  - tho mercy  - oh my the tempus so fast fugit - i gotta reheat a slow sauce  cooked deep space 9 style  - maybe watch a ball drop but nbd  - i mean its not like suspenseful  - or  - meanwhile  - sleep deprived a bit so imma zzzzz whenever possible and i dont rilly care about waterford crystal  -tho a frend collects it  - i have trouble holding on to anything and travel light collecting - no mas   - lol   - i bet u didnt see that 1 coming  

not seeking absolution 

not sorry bout the uh poetry 

or the photo 

later 

love 

(its a verb)

[manyearsaway]

CHARACTER THING :3

tagged by:    NO ONE I TOOK IT FROM ME

tagging:   anyone 

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬

FULL NAME.     Brian James Rodgers NICKNAME.     bri, space cowboy, dumb baby GENDER.     male HEIGHT.     6′3″ tall glass o water AGE.     26 ZODIAC.     leo :o SPOKEN LANGUAGES.     english. ivan taught him some russian but he can only rly have the most basic conversations

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

HAIR COLOR.     brown  EYE COLOR.     green  SKIN TONE.     he a white boy. lil pale but spends a lotta time outside tbh he probably sunburnt on the face a lot  BODY TYPE.     lanky boy. long legs. skinny baby (ok in the winter he has a TINY big more weight on him but not enough to rly notice). VOICE.       i think. a TOUCH of a southern accent. just a lil bit. comes out more when he’s angry than anything else, or when he’s being sarcastic. but like otherwise it’s pretty average toned/pitched and stuff. MAYBE a lil deeper than norm. DOMINANT HAND.     left.... to be DIFFERENT. POSTURE.     he sits and stands up straight for the most part tbh. he only really relaxes in bed. SCARS.     he’s got like the SLIGHTEST scar on his forehead bc he busted it on something in the ship. he’s got one on his right calf bc of some dumb shit he was tryna do when he was a kid (les be real he was tryna go to space from the roof in a cardboard box).  TATTOOS.      no but he wouldnt be opposed to getting something space themed in the future BIRTHMARKS.     he’s got a lil tan mark on the inside of his left thigh. it kinda looks like florida ??? MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S).     TALL. he tall. his nose ? kinda wack. hair? amazing. perfection. touch it.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝

PLACE OF BIRTH.     dayton, ohio (more like englewood, the outskirts of dayton that’s still a dayton zipcode but isn’t actually in dayton. u kno how it be sometimes).  HOMETOWN.    dayton/englewood ohio SIBLINGS.    non but he counts ivan zack and lukas since he doesn’t have anyone ELSE PARENTS.   james and dorothy rodgers. james worked on a farm n dorothy made quilts (( brian still has one tucked in his backpack )).

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

OCCUPATION.    an ASTRONUAT !!!  CURRENT RESIDENCE.    literally wherever the feels like livin CLOSE FRIENDS.    michael taylor, ivan bardin, lukas stillwater !  RELATIONSHIP STATUS.    sad FINANCIAL STATUS.    he gets like 5k a month from the association. they also pay all his bills for him SO FAR. DRIVER’S LICENSE.    he used to have one. but its expired LMAO CRIMINAL RECORD.    oh god no he’s a good baby ...... so get him into trouble .........  VICES.    chronically dumb. doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. bad at keeping secrets unless its SUPER DUPER IMPORTANT and someone he loves.

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

SEXUAL ORIENTATION.     he bi baby. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE.     submissive  |  dominant  |  switch  |  top  |  bottom  |  verse.                    ( i? have not thought abt this too much but honestly tell him what u want him to be and he’ll do his darndest ) LIBIDO.     ok he will NEVER say no to sex. ever. but? he’s stupid. u gotta be explicit.  LOVE LANGUAGE.    looking at the stars together. having picnics. laying in the grass together. holding hands. nose kisses. spooning. telling them abt space (but like.... softly..... lmao) RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.    ok. you really really gotta be honest with him or he’s just not going to know. he’s only ever been with ONE PERSON since he was in high school so he just like. has forgotten everything abt dating. not to mention he just doesn’t have any idea how social norms work now. like talk about your feelings? beat around the bush? is going on dates acceptable? are there any dances to go to? what’s goin on? but as soon as he figures out that like.... oh man..... this person wants to like BE TOGETHER..... he is the SWEETEST BOY. he will talk ur ear off about the last thing he read or like (if he ever confides in them) what life was like when he was little/back when he was from. he’ll make little deserts from the 20s/30s that he remembers and he’ll buy flowers at LEAST once a week. he loves to just sit and listen to their day and whats goin on with them because he KNOWS he talks to much and sometimes he just likes to listen. he REALLY likes to just sit and read with them. curled up on the couch or somethin. just livin together really. 

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG.   '39 BY QUEEN LMAO HOBBIES TO PASS TIME.    he loves to read !!! he love to reread his astronomy book and he actually rly likes to find old high school history books and go through them to figure out what the FUCK is going on, but he also likes to see the differences in how two different textbooks describe the same events.  LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED.    left brain but brian would say that left and right brained stuff is dumb  FEARS.    never fitting in i guess?? at this point he probably a little afraid the association is going to send him back to space and he wont have a choice SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL.    he a humble boy. he thinks what hes done is SO RAD but hes quick to build someone else up before him VULNERABILITIES.    HM. talkin too much i guess.

[toshis-puppycat]

Dreamscape Part Two

Masterlist

A/N: So I'm bored and I have quite a bit written already so shit why not post more?

Warning in this: Drugged, attempted assault, nondescript violence bcs I cant write it but ya know if you ever thought of how to fuck someone up for this. Its that.

——

Saturday night found you dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz in front of a sorority house. Richie did tell you he'd be a little late trying to make his friend come over and when your friends knew they were ecstatic. 

"Y/n, I know you don't give a shit but Richie is a total babe." One of the girls told you. They thought you didn't notice? You did, you weren't blind. Richie was hot in that soft boy, bad boy way but he wasn't your type. To be fair though you didn't really know your type. Maybe he secretly was, you did get flustered around him sometimes and you couldn't forget how hed stair at you sometimes like he wanted something from you. But you respected and honestly liked how he never pushed that boundary you clearly put up when you met two weeks prior. You were very uncomfortable with people flirting anyways, but Richie really did act like that with everyone. You caught him once or twice "flirting" with new workers at the Slice of Heaven Pizzeria it didn't matter if they were male or female either. He clearly liked it both ways. For the first time you felt comfortable with a man and trusted him enough to call him your friend. You felt your phone, buzz.

'Hey doll, were running later than I thought. It took forever to convince Stan to go, I'll let you know when we're there. Don't get too drunk without me (;' 

You rolled your eyes, seems like one of his friends really didn't want to go if he made them this late. 'But', you thought feeling yourself soften as you walked inside, 'they didn't want to leave their friend alone' and that was sweet. 

Stan was furious. He could really kill something right now despite his record of not attacking living things. Richie fucking dragged him out of the apartment complex and forced him into a degrading costume (he knew Richie chose it. Who the fuck would be 'Inspector Gadget?) and is now making him go to a halloween party. "My friend invited me! You guys will love her!" He said, Stan just felt his scowl deepen. Who the fuck enjoyed hanging out with Richie with a sane mind? He wouldn't like this at all. He could feel it as he was walking into the sorority house with the others. He wouldn't like this at all.

You were 3 shots in when you felt your phone buzz again, you drunkenly grabbed it and quickly read the text from Richie. 'We're here doll, where are you?' You lept up with joy and quickly sent a text back telling him where to find you, although it probably wasnt english the more you thought about it. 'But alcohol is way more fun right now' you thought, pouting a little you were going to leave when you felt a pull on your arm.

"Aw come on babe, why not stay a little longer?" Someone asked, you didn't realize with all the drinking you were left with the frat boys of the girls you were with.

"I gotta go see friends, go drink more by yourselves." You said yanking your arm away from him. You felt heavy all of a sudden, the world became a little more blurry. They fucking drugged you! You thought angrily, but you couldn't do much as you felt your body go limp. 

Upstairs Richie could feel something, and it was important as the group walked in. He was looking for you immediately, you'd sent him gibberish that he assumed said youd meet him in the front room, because you were getting drunk downstairs. But there he was with his friends surrounded by a bunch of drunk humans waiting for you to show up. "I'm gonna look for her, she usually responds quick even when shes a little drunk." Richie said, looking at the others. Bev looked a bit worried. 

"Rich, we shouldn't be here." She said, a little fearful. 

"We feel like fledglings again Rich, someone's here and they smell good." Bill said. Richie could've smacked himself, he completely forgot.

"That's her! I'm sorry I spaced out on telling you guys, but I got used to her scent." He exclaimed, the group looked unimpressed especially Stan. 

"Rich well help, but you owe us later." Ben said. 

They all went their separate ways. Your scent happened to be everywhere they found, but you yourself weren't anywhere. Richie felt himself get very worried all of a sudden. Like something bad was going to happen if they didn't find you. And whenever Richie felt that, it usually meant something bad would happen. 

The night got worse, for Stan at least. He was searching for some dumb friend of Richies who couldn't even hold their own alcohol! He could just feel his scowl deepen. Then he caught a scent, and it was good. But it was twinged with panic and fear too. Not good. He heard muttering, and very faintly rustling fabric. Eyes narrowed he walked to the area of the faint scent. The faint muttering from before became louder and he could actually make out what was being said. 

"God does this bitch ever stop wiggling?" and "those girls better have not lied to us, she better be a virgin like they said." 

'Ah yes. The wonders of humanity.' He thought with a sneer. 'How pure of them attacking someone like this because of a construct like virginity or purity. How pitiful. No one in humanity was pure.' But he wasn't about to stand there and let some humans attack someone who was obviously defenseless. He walked to the door and knocked. All the muttering stopped. He could hear the blood rushing through their veins. 

"Go the fuck away, this is a private affair!" One of the boys shouted. Stan felt himself tense, the smell was stronger, like it was filled with more fear. 

"If you wanna play hard to get, we can." He said, immediately kicking the door down.

There was the smell, tied down only in her bra and underwear, a small thing with such a delicious scent. He quickly fucked up some frat boys shits almost killing them if it weren't for the form tied to the bed. He quickly untied the frail thing they wanted to attack so bad. He could almost react to her fear filled scent, almost. He did react however to seeing her face, as she quickly attempted to dress herself in the costume she had on before. If he had a heartbeat it would've stopped, you were there and the world suddenly felt right again. He quickly took his jacket off and covered you with it as he heard footsteps rushing up. He knew it was the group, an it was confirmed when he saw Beverly's furious face rushing into the room quickly taking in the scene and looking at several knocked out frat boys and the sobbing figure Stan had been able to cover. The others soon ran in. Richie being the last and evidently the most furious. That's when it hit him, you were the scent. You were with Richie. It was a punch to the gut he never wanted to expect. You were back, but you were with Richie of all people. 

"Y/n!" Richie shouted, pushing past the group as they all shook themselves. They were reacting like fledglings again, and suddenly Stan felt himself tense, suddenly feeling angry at you even though you did nothing but exist again. 

"Dont fucking drink alcohol if you cant handle it." He growled out, furiously pushing past the others and going downstairs. Richies "dont be a fucking asshole Stan!" Barely even heard by the furious older vampire. Logically he knew you were drugged by them, but just knowing you were with Richie broke the heart and he didnt think hed ever be the same knowing you were alive.

[harryandmolly]

The Emancipation of Ginny ~ 13 ~ FINAL

summary: shawn and ginny could’ve ruined everything six months ago, and sticking together despite their past could make or break them now as ginny stays on as his personal assistant. but what happens on tour doesn’t stay on tour.

warnings: Language, Louboutins, Love

WC: 4k

A/N: you guys are amazing. thank you for supporting this story. I love you all. never be afraid of your greatness.

____________

Ginny’s quiet. Her chin wobbles. Her smile is strained. Andrew can hear it through the phone. He shifts in his seat, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees. He sighs.

“I just want you to know,” she sniffles, “This was never the plan.”

Andrew nods, though he knows she can’t see him. “I know.”

“I wanted to learn from you. I d-did learn from you. I learned… so much.”

“But there was still something missing,” he finishes. Ginny sniffles again. “Ginny, I know. I know you never intended to leave this way. I know… I know you didn’t sign up for a lot of what ended up happening on this team. We all got more than we bargained for. But I think we’re all better for it. Fuck, I know I am. Do you know how nervous I was, bringing you on? I didn’t even want to ask Shawn to bring on a PA. God, it’s such a delicate balance, having a team like this. In the best way, you did throw us all off balance. You saved my ass over and over and over. You went above and beyond every day. You taught us all how to work together better. You reminded us how strong we are as a team.”

“That’s what I’ll miss most, you know,” she whispers. Her voice is gravelly. It makes Andrew’s throat constrict, “I’ll miss that. The family. You guys are my family.”

Andrew chews his lips into his mouth. “We’re going to miss you too, Gin. It’s like… it’s like you’re Dorothy and we’re the friends you made along the way to Oz.”

Ginny laughs. “Does that make Shawn the Wizard?”

Andrew snorts. “He fucking wishes. No. I’m the Wizard. Shawn is… Shawn’s the Scarecrow.”

“This is a very odd metaphor,” Ginny laughs. Andrew feels some much needed relief at the sound of it.

“We’re an odd bunch,” he sighs.

She goes quiet again. Andrew clears his throat.

“So,” he begins, “You’re gonna need a manager. I have some ideas for you.”

+

Shawn’s laughter fades. He leans back in the leather booth and meets Niall’s eyes. He rolls his own.

“What?” he groans.

“Nothing, mate. Just figured you’d have something to say about the fact that the last time we were here, she was with us.”

She. Niall’s adorably reverent of Ginny. Shawn makes a joke in his head about “She Who Must Not Be Named.” He keeps his nerdy notions to himself.

Shawn shrugs. “She’s everywhere, man. If I get all fuckin’ moody about having to do stuff and be places where I was with her, I’d never get out of bed. Actually, she’s been there too, so…” He trails off.

Niall bobs his head. “I miss her too.”

Shawn looks up from the fizzing bubbles in his pint glass. “You haven’t talked to her?”

“I’ve caught bits and pieces from her. Haven’t seen her in a while. She’s… y’know, she’s busy, meetin’ with managers and labels in all that. Don’t envy her a bit, actually. Fuckin’ miserable, that whole lot.”

Shawn frowns. He remembers that, kind of. It was different for him because Andrew discovered him, so he had an advocate in his corner from the start, plus he was a teenager, so his parents were at the helm of negotiations. He was just the music back then, not the brains. Ginny’s always been both.

“I’m not too worried about her,” Shawn confesses, his eyebrows pulling together, “She’s… so fucking smart, you know? Like, savvy. That’s why she’d be such a fucking great manager.”

Niall’s eyes widen in agreement. He nods thoughtfully. He shrugs.

“I guess things’ll happen as they’re meant to.” He angles his gaze back up to Shawn’s.

Shawn wets his lips. “They will. I know they will.”

+

Ginny gazes at the baby, lets her wrap her tiny fist around her finger. She sucks the finger into her mouth, cooing. Ginny giggles.

Hannah laughs with her, jiggling her little daughter as she lies on her stomach.

Victoria Jade Abigail is six months old and enormous for her age, looking easily 6-7 months older than she is. She has soft brown eyes and tight tiny curls, much like Ginny’s. When Ginny gets to hold her, she whispers in her ear about how lucky she is to have such a smart auntie who can help her care for them.

They’re in the park. Marcus and Kingston are exploring the Princess Diana Memorial Playground while Hannah and Ginny finish their picnic. Victoria starts to snooze against her mother’s chest with Ginny’s finger still clenched in her little hand. As she fades into sleep, her grip slackens. Ginny slips it free and smoothes her fingers down the baby’s back.

“You sure you really want to tour again, babes?” Ginny sighs, looking up to cast Hannah a curious glance. Hannah’s looking down at her baby girl adoringly.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, “I need it, Gin. Can’t live without it. Touring is… god, it’s everything. I mean, it’s not, obviously. Family. This family is everything. But…” Her voice fades.

Ginny feels a churning in her stomach. It’s familiar and unwelcome. It’s nauseating and a little helpless. It’s uncertainty. She nudges Hannah to continue.

Hannah shrugs. “But I can’t be all there for my family if I’m not being me, you know? Like, I can’t just give it up to be a mum. I know some women can. Some women want to. I applaud those women, as long as it’s what they really want. But what kind of mum am I really if I show my kids that dreams are disposable? I can’t… I can’t be the best mum I can be if I’m not also doing what I love.”

Ginny swallows and nods, rolling onto her side on the blanket they’ve spread over the dewy spring grass.

“You really feel that way? That if you’re not touring or performing, that’s… like, like you can’t be yourself without it?”

Hannah nods easily. “Of course. I think you have to feel that way to do this, to be this. Don’t you think it’s how Shawn feels, too?”

Ginny doesn’t startle like a frightened horse at the sound of his name anymore. It’s been months since she left him in that bed in Hawai’i. In that time, she’s reminded herself how to stand on her own and focus on her career.

The only problem is that… maybe it’s not the right career.

Ginny feels crazy when she lets herself consider that. After all this time, all this stress, all this work -- she upended her entire life for this. Her mother called her crazy. Her father claimed to have known all along she was meant to be an artist, which immediately made her wary. But could she really have gotten this far down this path just to find another direction again?

Ginny rolls away onto her back as Victoria stirs, hungry and squirmy. She sifts her fingers through the grass, the same way she did last summer when leaving Shawn’s team was a new and harsh inevitability. The wound has faded to a scar.

It’s not that it was the wrong move. She needed it -- they both did. But in the months that followed, as Ginny sat and thought and talked and met with managers and labels and struggled and drank and asked for advice, something felt just a little… hollow.

She chews on the inside of her lip again, where she’s convinced she’ll end up with a hole if she doesn’t find a way to calm the fuck down about all this.

“You know he’s in London, right?” Hannah hums.

Ginny blinks out of her cloud of thought. “Hmm?”

Hannah nods. “Doing some recording’s what I heard, last I talked to Teddy.”

“Teddy,” Ginny evades with a smile, “How is she?”

“Always a laugh, that one. Met with her last week. She’s going to put in a couple calls to some managers she likes, ones she thinks could fit my vibe.”

Ginny picks at the grass.

+

Ginny’s fingers stroke through the curls over his right ear. As he studies her face, she studies the way his hair looks a little bit copper in the lamplight. Her mind is blissfully empty, the way his almost never is. He smiles gently, adoring and envying.

The hand spread across her back flexes. Under the sheets of his bed, he slides a sturdy leg between hers. She shifts comfortably, welcoming him in. He clears his throat for her attention.

“When did you know you wanted to go into artist management?”

Ginny blinks a few times and scrunches her forehead. “Oh. Hmm. I guess around the time Hannah realized her first manager was nicking from her, skimming money off her accounts.”

Shawn’s eyebrows raise. Ginny sighs. “I’d been her PA, I was working closely with them both. I subbed in for a while before she could hire someone with actual experience. I guess I never really felt like her manager, more like her teammate. But I always understood her vision, y’know? I could see the big picture.”

Shawn nods. “She’s lucky to have you, Ginny. Even if you’re not directly on her team anymore. She needs you. We both do.”

Ginny smiles fondly. She scoots closer into his side. Shawn rolls onto his back and lets her fold herself on top of him, resting her head on his chest.

Finally, his head goes quiet.

“There’s enough of me to share, I promise.”

+

Ginny tilts her chin up, willing herself to focus. This meeting is important. But she’s… distracted.

It’s her third meeting with this guy from Demi Lovato’s management company. That hellish Island Records gala last year was good for something, it seems. Hannah’s come along as back up, as sort of interim-manager-substitute-person for some of the meetings Ginny’s taken. Ginny’s been doing the same for Hannah.

Ginny glances over. Hannah is listening intently, asking questions, looking engaged. Ginny smiles subtly and looks back at the man’s face, hoping her eyes haven’t glazed over.

Since the beginning, it was Ginny and Hannah. When they felt alone in a classroom full of girls with creamy white skin and soft braids and pigtails, it was down to them to make their own way.

Even when Marcus came along, Ginny and Hannah were a team. Even when Hannah’s babies came along, Ginny and Hannah were still a team. Even when Ginny was on another team, Hannah was still on her team. Things shift and change. They’re still a team.

When Ginny snaps back in, they’re alone. The industry professional in $800 jeans and Louboutin sneakers stepped out to take a call. Hannah’s eyes roll so hard Ginny’s surprised they don’t fall out.

“This motherfucker,” she snorts.

Despite the distraction, Ginny has been at least half listening and knows exactly why Hannah is reacting the way she is. After all, she’s seen and heard it all by now -- the good, the bad, the ugly. She can see through anyone’s bullshit smokescreen. Hannah is eyeing her like she’s wondering how Ginny even got to three meetings with this joker who’s talking about an EDM sound and touring with Bebe Rexha and a stage name.

And she can see through Ginny, too.

Hannah bites her lip. “Come on, Gin. This ain’t it, babes.”

Ginny sits back in her overstuffed armchair and gazes out at this loser’s stunning view of West London, her home.

“I guess I know that,” she whispers.

Hannah is patiently silent. Ginny looks back at her.

“Do you know what I think?”

Hannah shrugs in response.

“I think we’ve been going about this wrong. You and me, we’ve been trying to let other people take the reins for so long. You’ve had a half dozen shitty managers, I fell in love with my boss. What… what are we doing?”

Hannah sees a spark behind Ginny’s clear brown eyes. She sits up straighter.

“I mean,” Ginny begins, her voice growing louder, “What do you really want, Hans?”

Hannah’s brows lift. “I want… someone who understands me. A real partner.”

Ginny grins. “I understand you, Hans. No better partner than me.”

A look of uneasy understanding crosses Hannah’s face.

“But what about all this? What about doing your own music, touring?”

Ginny sits back, exhausted. “I love music. You know? I just… I really, really love it. I love performing. I love trying new things. But come on, Hans. You’re right. This ain’t it. This isn’t what I want. I don’t have to be a professional musician to sing. This is not my path.”

Hannah is quiet for a while. She nervously eyes the door. She sits forward, leaning into Ginny conspiratorially.

“Ok, Gin. What do you want, then?”

+

Ginny walked out.

She walked out of the office in her TK Maxx dress and the Louboutins Hannah got her for Christmas two years ago. She walked away from the slimy manager mincing his words. She walked away from something that wanted to change her, something that would’ve ruined her relationship with music forever.

She walked into a pub with Hannah and drank.

They sat in a booth with their heeled feet raised on cushions. They ate steak and kidney pies and drank lager and made plans.

Shortly after walking out of the management office, Ginny proposed a plan. Contracts were to be drawn up. Calls had to be made. Press releases needed to be drafted. All would be handled by Ginny, Hannah’s new manager.

Ginny didn’t feel a shred of regret, walking away. The weight of confusion from last summer is gone. The truth is, Ginny thinks, leaning back against the sticky booth with her beer in hand, leaving Shawn’s team was something that should’ve happened long before it did. They could never have a real relationship while she was on his payroll. She could not grow any more under Andrew’s shadow. The viral videos felt like a sign telling her to get out, to forge her own path. Ginny chuckles, thinking now she might’ve read it wrong.

Ginny closes her eyes. New paths are scary, that’s what kept her on the old one for so long. But as she sits here discussing strategy with her new client, she feels more stable and sure-footed than she has since she walked up to the other little black girl in the classroom and offered to show her where the milk coolers were.

Ginny sighs. Her fingers twitch for her phone. Hannah smiles knowingly, that slightly evil smile that always gets Ginny’s heart racing.

“You want to call him,” Hannah says flatly.

Ginny shrugs. “I’ve wanted to call him since September.”

“But you really, really want to call him now.”

“Of course I do,” she grumbles, “He’s… he’s the one, Han. I know he is. But I couldn’t stay with him, not while I was figuring this out.”

Hannah leans in across the sticky table. Her eyes are dark. The corner of her mouth lifts. Ginny feels a shiver rip down her spine in her prim pencil dress.

“So what’s stopping you now?” Hannah purrs.

Ginny’s stomach drops. She swallows. Her face goes hot.

She can’t answer.

Hannah holds up her phone. Her Instagram is open to a Shawn Mendes updates page on a post of him smiling with a fan outside Heathrow. It was posted fifteen minutes ago.

Ginny looks from the phone to Hannah.

“I’ve got to go.”

+

Shawn glances down at his phone one last time before dropping it in the security bin. The battery is low. He sniffs irritably, knowing he won’t get another chance to charge it until he’s on the plane back to LA.

He reaches back into the bin before the conveyor belt can drag it toward the x-ray machine. He turns it off.

+

Ginny is positively vibrating in the back of her black cab that’s speeding to Heathrow on the promise of a hefty tip.

Never has her phone felt so useless. She calls Shawn -- straight to voicemail, phone probably dead since he never turns it off. She calls Andrew -- straight to voicemail, which means he’s on a call and ignoring her. She calls Jake -- straight to voicemail, phone probably off because he’s not a desperate lovestruck millennial.

“Fuck!” Ginny cries, startling her driver. He looks back at her in the rearview mirror. She rolls her eyes and hits the contact number for Brian’s cell, waving at her driver to continue.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

“Hello?”

“Brian!” she nearly shrieks, “Where’s Shawn?”

“Uhhh, Ginny?”

She huffs. “Yes, it’s Ginny. Brian, come on, I’m on my way to Heathrow, I have to catch him before he leaves. Where is he going?”

“Back to LA. He’s closing the deal on the movie.”

Ginny blanches. “What?”

“Yeah,” Brian chuckles, “I told him it was stupid, too. Andrew wore him down, I think. He’s on the 4:30 Virgin Atlantic to JFK.”

Ginny looks up at the clock at the front of the cab. It’s 3:30.

“Shit, fuck, I’m never gonna make it,” Ginny pants into the phone.

“Gonna have to run for it, Gin,” Brian chuckles, amused by the image.

“Yeah, yeah, call you later,” she grumbles, hanging up.

+

Ten minutes later, Ginny is power walking up to security, heels clacking, thrusting her phone out toward the woman who doesn’t look like she cares at all that Ginny just bought a $900 flight to New York she doesn’t even plan to board.

The ticket scans. Ginny hustles down the ramp and picks the shortest security line behind a doddering old couple who seem very confused about air travel as though it’s 1943 and they’ve never been on a fucking commercial flight. With a strained smile, Ginny sorts them out, leaving their clunky phones in a bin with their jackets and watching them shuffle through the metal detectors. As soon as Ginny is waved through, she grabs her phone and shoes from her bin and runs.

Over her shoulder, she calls, “Have a safe flight! Enjoy Orlando!”

Ginny forgoes slipping her shoes back on and tries hard not to think about the grimy germs she’s running through as she sprints through the terminal.

She dodges and weaves like an Arsenal striker, calling out “sorry!”s and “pardon me!”s as she goes. Her eyes are fixed at the gate at the end of the long stretch of wide, heavily trafficked corridor.

D23.

Somewhere around D17 they start bellowing over the intercom for last call for Virgin Atlantic flight 214 to New York City.

Bollocks.

Ginny hurdles past families, service dogs, airport police who give her disappointed glances. She is nearly waylaid by someone toting an inexplicably empty luggage cart. Just before it can collide with her ankles, she leaps over it with as much flexibility as her tight-fitting dress will allow.

She ignores the hoots and whistles of passersby, the tuts and scoldings of buttoned-up mums and dads. She has a singular goal.

She has to get to Shawn.

The last call announcement rings in her ears, pushing her as she pants heavily. Her bare feet slap the floor. Her heart charges hard against her ribs. Beads of sweat pool around her hairline.

Somewhere at a newsstand that she runs past, she catches a bar of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” by Diana Ross.

She runs faster.

D23 is nearly empty. She weaves around a flustered looking family to see that the door is still open!

She’s fumbling with her phone to access her ticket. She glances back up as her feet start to slow.

She sees him standing by a window looking dumbstruck, befuddled Andrew to his left, delighted Jake to his right.

“Ginny?” Shawn cries, launching off the post he’s leaning against. His long legs carry him to her, splitting the difference. They nearly collide, but he grabs her forearms and halts them, looking her over in confusion as she drops her shoes with a loud clatter on the tile floor.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he cries, cupping her face.

God, she’s fucking beautiful. He’s never gone this long without getting to look at her. He doesn’t know why she’s here, but he’s going to soak up every second.

“Don’t get on the plane,” she pants.

“What?”

“Don’t-- get on the plane,” she repeats, squeezing her fingers around his biceps.

“Ginny, what are you--”

“I ran out of a meeting with Greg Osterfield today,” she manages, eyes shifting to Andrew, who’s glancing at his watch, “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sign with him. Truth is, I don’t want to sign with anyone, Shawn. I don’t want to be an artist, not really. I had to try, though. I’m not sorry I did, otherwise I always would’ve wondered. But I know now.”

“Shawn,” Andrew calls, looking anxiously at the gate attendants who are getting ready to shut the door.

“Hold on!” Shawn barks without taking his eyes off her. It makes her smile through her heavy breaths.

“Ginny, baby, please talk faster,” Shawn murmurs.

“I’m gonna manage Hannah. That’s what I want. That’s what I’m going to do. I know… I know that’s going to make it hard for us. We’ll be in the same place at the same time, what, twice a year, if we’re lucky? But it’s worth it, I think, to try. We’re worth it. I’m sorry I left like that. I didn’t want to, but I had to.”

“I know,” Shawn interrupts, “I’m not-- I mean, it hurt, but I know why you did it. Honestly, Gin, I respect you so much for that. I’m so fucking proud of you. God, I love you.”

Ginny takes a deep inhale and swings her arms around his neck. Shawn follows her lead, pulling her in by her hips to a crushing kiss right there, in front of gate D23, amidst rubbernecking travelers, confused gate attendants and one very annoyed artist manager.

“Oh, thank god,” Jake mutters, going pink and averting his eyes from the scene, smiling to himself.

Shawn lightens up the kiss first, lifting a hand to cup her neck, tilting her head back to suck gently at her lower lip. He swallows her whimper and purrs, hungry for more. Ginny curls up into him, toying with the curls at the back of his neck. An unamused elderly woman passing them clears her throat. They ignore her.

After a few more heated seconds, Ginny pulls back reluctantly, bumping her nose against his.

“Don’t do the stupid movie,” she insists.

“Is that your professional opinion?” Shawn laughs, tickling the back of her neck with his fingertips.

She beams. “Yes. Don’t do the stupid fucking movie. Don’t even get on the plane. Come with me. Be here with me, just for a little while.”

Shawn smiles. He’s never been so happy to ditch work.

The gate closes. The plane leaves with Andrew onboard, toting excuses from Shawn to give the studio -- “just doesn’t feel like the right project, very excited and eager to consider more opportunities down the road” -- a line fed to him by Ginny.

Despite her expectations, Andrew didn’t look surprised or even too angry about Ginny’s sudden disruption. He muttered something about Dorothy clicking her heels to return to Oz. Shawn, with his other arm around Ginny’s shoulders, beamed and held up her Louboutins with a wink. Andrew rolled his eyes, hugged them both and left Jake with them for safe keeping.

As they stroll back through the terminal, catching the eyes of curious onlookers who either recognize Ginny as the woman who had just sprinted past them or Shawn as one of the most famous musicians on the planet, Shawn turns his face into Ginny’s hair and closes his eyes, inhaling. She still smells like coconut.

“Hey,” she whispers, getting his attention, “Where d’you want to go? My mum’s? Hannah’s?”

Shawn smiles. “How about we get a room at that little hotel in Regent’s Park and you let me show you how much I love you?”

Ginny’s face gets hot. “Yeah. Ok. Think I can spare a few days for that.”

Shawn shrugs. “Gonna take me longer than a few days to show you that, Gin.”

_____________

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