#francis: why do i hear boss music

[usuccc]

Please talk more about that au, villain Alfred is a guilty pleasure 🙏🏻

*sweats* You and me both! Oh man, where to begin. First of all, thanks for the interest! It means a lot. I can’t be concise, so I’m gonna put this under a huge ‘Keep Reading’ for whoever is interested. Like for real there is a whole ass essay below that cut. I left some stuff out cause it’s already a ridiculous length, but I got the gist of it.

Leave it to me to take a silly gag au and go completely off the rails with it. It’s honestly hilarious gg me.

This au takes place in some fake big city with dark synthwave-y aesthetics where the skies are constantly gray in the daytime from smog and pollution. Over the last ~20-30 years, Jones Enterprises has risen up as the most influential and powerful company in the United States, with their headquarters in (fake big city’s name). They have hands in many industries, spanning the manufacturing, retail, and technology spheres. Over the past 5 years, especially, they’ve seen massive, nearly unbelievable growth, and unfortunate events or sell-outs have conveniently fallen upon their competitors, allowing them to create monopolies in several industries. They also have the government in an iron grip and no one is willing to stand up to them for fear of the consequences. Most people mysteriously feel compelled not to confront them anyway, especially those who live closest to their headquarters.

Francis was an employee for Jones Enterprises’ main headquarters. He saw how overworked and underpaid his colleagues were. Bogged down by overwork in his first year, he eventually tried to get away with slacking as much as he could. After witnessing one of his close coworkers have a heart attack and almost die from the stress of working there, he changed gears and started speaking out on behalf of his colleagues. Some of his motivation came from feeling partially responsible for what happened, and he wanted to evoke positive change across the company instead. He tried time and time again to organize strikes after his attempts to organize a union were completely shattered. The turnout was very little in the beginning, and soon fizzled out to just him. He stubbornly pressed forward on his own anyway and was fired for it. Finding other work turned out to be impossible, his firing acting as an unemployment death sentence. It was not uncommon for employees fired from Jones Enterprises to be shunned from ever finding a decent job again, and Francis’s situation was even worse given the bad publicity he received from his strike attempts.

Ready to resort to desperate measures, Francis started seriously considering moving back in with his parents in France and figuring out a new plan. Jones Enterprises had gained significant influence in Europe too, so there wasn’t a guarantee he wouldn’t experience similar problems there.

Before he could buy a plane ticket, he was visited by Kiku Honda, a stranger with an unassuming appearance. Long story short, Kiku had come to the US with the alias as a simple tourist. His family was presently responsible for safekeeping a secret and powerful magical artifact with mysterious origins. 

The artifact was one of two powerful stones, both of which were in existence since the beginning of mankind. These stones were antitheses of each other, representing and contributing to major moral conflicts throughout history. They were both drawn to chosen human hosts who were destined to face each other. The pink stone, which Kiku was in possession of, gained and gave magical power through love, equality, and hope/healing. It formed a positive, nurturing, non-invasive connection with its host, and gave them the power to protect and inspire hope in others. The other (purple) stone gained and gave magical power through greed, subjugation, and fear. It gave great wrath and influence to its host, whose powers would grow exponentially over time as the two stayed connected. This stone would physically embed itself in its host’s heart, eating away at their mind slowly to bring out the absolute worst in them and shave away at their morals and inhibitions, until they were nothing but a heartless monster. Tendrils would spread out from the stone throughout the host’s body, growing in size and number the longer they were connected.

Kiku had long suspected that the unnatural growth of Jones Enterprises was connected to the purple stone. He had gradually implanted connections in Jones Enterprises and had been monitoring the situation for clues of a potential host. The senior leadership of the company was very hard to crack, however, and the CEO had significantly limited his public appearances in recent years, but Kiku would not let it rest. Any of the higher ups in the company could be a candidate for suspicion. While investigating, he heard of and even saw some of Francis’s brazen attempts to challenge the seemingly invincible company. He was impressed with Francis’s ability to stand up to an insurmountable foe, especially given the influence of the mysterious compelling force that kept most others in the city silent. He wanted to get information from Francis about his experience at Jones Enterprises and to offer him an opportunity to rebuild his life for his bravery. The stone, which Kiku always kept on his person, ended up choosing and bonding with Francis to both of their surprise, and boom Magical Strike was born.

-----

Now onto Alfred and Arthur. Alfred is the son of the founder and CEO of Jones Enterprises and his ex-wife. His parents divorced when he was still a baby, and his father did not remarry. Alfred’s mom remarried right away and had another son, Matthew. 

In his home life, Alfred often felt neglected and overlooked compared to Matthew, whom his mom and stepdad preferred and doted on. His birth father ignored him in favor of growing his company as well. This caused Alfred to act out at school and extracurricular activities, always overshadowing Matthew whenever possible and rubbing it in his face. He often got in trouble at home later for it. When Alfred got a little older, he frequently snuck out after these fights and went somewhere to be alone. One night, he walked down to the neighborhood park and saw another boy alone by the swings where he usually liked to go to mope. This boy was a few years older than him and muttering angrily to himself. Feeling a sort of weird camaraderie for this other pissed off dude, coupled with the fact he’d never seen him before and was curious, Alfred took the plunge and went over to talk to him. Alfred and Arthur’s first meeting was a little rocky, but the two quickly found themselves warming up to each other. Many coincidences found them meeting in the same park after a bad day, and the two eventually bonded and made a thing of it. Alfred found that with Arthur he could open up and be more authentic than he let himself be with his other friends.

By the time he hit high school, Alfred emotionally detached himself from his mom/stepdad, and tried to be a little nicer to Matthew, although their relationship was never close. He and Arthur still met often outside of school, and Alfred tried to reach out to him at school too, but Arthur limited those interactions due to his unfavorable status as an irritable loner. Alfred continued to seek out other people’s attention, forming a ton of superficial friendships with his classmates. He became obsessed with being number one at everything he did and getting everyone to like him to patch up his residual feelings of loneliness and inadequacy, and also to hopefully impress Arthur, whom he secretly had a crush on. Excelling in his sports clubs, and even skipping a grade in his academics, Alfred felt like things would be okay if they kept going the way they were.

Then Arthur abruptly confided halfway into Alfred’s freshman year that he was moving back to England that year after he graduated for family reasons. Alfred didn’t take the news well, and when the time came for Arthur to leave, it hit Alfred hard. They promised they’d keep in touch via phone and online, but that did little to comfort him and his other shallow friendships often made him feel worse. The feelings of loneliness and inadequacy returned tenfold. It was around this time that Alfred was contacted for the first time by his birth father in years, asking to meet and catch up. Alfred readily accepted, not taking a moment to think it through in his low emotional state.

Alfred’s dad was getting into some weird shit since the divorce. He’d been putting obsessive efforts into expanding his company, making strategic partnerships, attending all kinds of rich, bougie events for networking purposes, and exploiting his workers to maximize profits. Despite his efforts, his returns were decreasing and the existence of some key new competitors put him in a tough spot for future growth. When conventional methods didn’t appear to be making any progress, Alfred’s father started hanging around some wealthy, sketchy social circles. It’s through a series of events with these groups that he learned of and obtained the purple stone. After seeing it reject and devour an unfit host before his eyes, he decided he was in desperate need of its supposed power, but he couldn’t risk using it on himself in the case he was judged to be unfit. He had to use it on someone inconsequential if things went wrong, but at the same time malleable, so he could ensure they used the power to further his goals. 

Alfred’s dad put on an act when Alfred arrived, making it seem like he wanted to bring Alfred back into his life, raise him up like he should have been doing all those years. Alfred soaked it up like a sponge, and his dad appeared to follow through on his promises, engaging with him and frequently making secret visits so they could spend quality time together. After a whole year of building Alfred’s trust, his dad was able to convince him to put the stone to his heart, assuring him that only he could do it and he trusted Alfred to make their company and the lives of so many people who depended on it great. The stone embedded itself in Alfred’s chest, causing him to pass out from the pain. When he woke up, still in one piece, his dad was able to calm him down and convince him to keep it a secret, even from the people he was closest to.

-----

Some other tidbits of info:

Arthur and Alfred did keep up communication after he left for England, and he considers Alfred his closest friend. Life got in the way plenty of times, though, and they couldn’t always keep up the most consistent communication. Still, they did what they could and were able to meet in person a few times even. Arthur obtained a degree in England and worked his first job there. But after that, he moved back to the states and got a job at Jones Enterprises, thrilled to surprise Alfred about it. They have a heartwarming reunion. Alfred, himself, graduated high school early, got accepted into an Ivy League college on a scholarship, received his degree in finance and business management due to his piece of shit dad’s wishes, and was being directed by his dad to start using his powers of influence on their competitors. At first, he justified to himself that the outcome would be good and that the competitors he was going after were bad people—which some of them definitely were—but over time, he found himself doing things he never would have before (to unhappy employees for example), caring less and less about the people that were impacted.

-----

So yeah, the main events take place about 10 years after Alfred becomes the host for the purple stone, having plenty of time to grow his power and lose himself to the stone’s influence in secret. When Francis makes his debut as Magical Strike, Alfred starts infusing some of Jones Enterprise’s key weapons tech with his magic and sending people after Francis, who is still learning his abilities. Then, in the latter half of this arc, Arthur becomes the main antagonist against Francis, having just scratched the surface of what’s really going on with Alfred and thinking (in denial) this will somehow help him. At the beginning of the second arc, there would be growing tension between Alfred and Arthur when Arthur can’t explain or keep excusing Alfred’s actions anymore. Alfred would lose control and almost hurt Arthur, whom he had taken the most care to hide his darker side from, which would cause Arthur to join forces with Francis, desperate to find a way to get the purple stone out of Alfred and save him somehow. Alfred mcfuckin loses it when he finds out.

[aph-english-rose]

Office Talk

So I originally wrote this fic for usuk week but was completely swamped with work and missed it. I’ve decided that instead of leaving it completed but abandoned that I’ll post even though the event it was intended for has been and gone. 

This was inspired by the 2021 usuk week prompt for day 1: Rumours! 

Paring: USUK

Words: 2711

Summary: Arthur has been the centre of many rumours since taking on the role of personal assistant. However, the most recent rumour floating around the office appears to be based upon more than just gossip. 

You can also read it on AO3 or on FF.Net

_____________________________________________________________

Arthur knew that something was off the moment he walked into the break room. Francis was lingering suspiciously beside the kettle in the corner, his lower back resting against the countertop. His fingertips were wrapped around an obnoxiously coloured reusable coffee cup, eyes staring off into the distance until he heard Arthur enter.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t the man himself,” He remarked as Arthur approached him. 

Naturally, Francis - being the irritating twit that he was – had positioned himself awkwardly in front of the kettle, the only thing Arthur needed to use in the entire breakroom. Francis never attempted to move out his way, watching in amusement as Arthur struggled around him. He barely even flinched when Arthur ‘accidentally’ elbowed him on the back of the head as he pulled out two reusable cups in monotone colours and set them on the counter.

“Are you planning to move at all?” Arthur huffed, a scowl forming on his face as he flicked the kettle to boil. Francis merely smirked at him from behind his coffee cup and took a loud slurp of his drink. Arthur felt his left eye twitch. Although he knew Francis was simply playing and meant no harm, the Frenchman knew full well what tiny little things made Arthur’s teeth grind. Knowing that Francis had no intentions of moving, Arthur worked around him, reaching across the counter for a tea bag and placing it in one of the cups along with two spoonsful of sugar. In the other, Arthur poured the perfect amount of coffee granules.

“You’re the talk of the office this morning you know.”

“Why? What have I done this time?” Arthur asked, squeezing himself into the tiny gap Francis had left for him where the corners of the countertops met. He mirrored Francis’ stance, his back leaning against the counter and his arms folded against his chest as the kettle whistled away behind him. They were unnecessarily close, their arms pressed against each other, but neither made the motion to shuffle up and make more space. If Francis wanted to play this game, then Arthur was happy to oblige. Besides, in a battle such as this both knew Arthur was the most stubborn and wouldn’t back down. Arthur knew that eventually Francis would lose interest. Luckily, being this close didn’t bring much discomfort. Arthur had known Francis since they were teenagers. They had grown up together and as a much as they enjoyed winding each other up, Arthur knew it was merely playful banter and that Francis genuinely cared about him.

“There is a rather juicy rumour floating around.”

“How lovely.”

“Even I am starting to wonder if it’s true and you know I’m not one for rumours.”

Arthur snorted a laugh, turning to make his drinks as soon as the kettle had come to boil. Arthur didn’t believe Francis for a single second. Francis was the biggest gossiper in the entire office. The only reason Arthur knew half the employees in the building was because of Francis and his inability to stay quiet. He thrived off the tales, bouncing from one person to another until he had heard all sides of story. Only then, when he had figured out the facts, did he pester Arthur with the information. Sometimes Arthur wondered if he was in the wrong career. Surely someone with such skills would make an impressive investigator.

“Of course not. Are you going to tell me this rumour or am I going to find out from Linda when she comes to clean up this evening?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you. I’m just not sure you’re going to like what you hear with this one.”

That made Arthur’s curiosity tingle. A rumour about him that he wouldn’t like? How interesting. Arthur had been the subject of many rumours during his time in the office, all of which were utterly ridiculous and contained no ounce of truth to them. The previous rumour that had involved Arthur claimed he were a vampire enslaved by his boss to carry out his orders. It was so absurd that he and Francis had cried laughing for hours to a point where Arthur was concerned that he would have to ring an ambulance.

However, this time, Francis appeared cautious. Had he already figured out the facts and concluded that Arthur would react negatively to such rumours floating around? It made Arthur’s thoughts race, sifting through his previous schedule for something out of the ordinary for such rumours to spark. Had he acted differently whilst on shift? Had someone caught him talking to himself? Surely not. Arthur’s one-way conversations were always contained to the privacy of his office or an empty elevator. The most that Arthur ever did whilst at work was go up and down in elevators for coffee breaks, answer the constantly ringing phone, book appointments and sift through thousands upon thousands of emails.

“I’m listening,” Arthur said as he finished making the drinks. Once again, he worked around Francis, returning everything to their rightful positions and throwing the spoon he had used into the sink to wash later. Once the coffee cup lids had been clicked into place, Arthur carefully gathered them into his hands. They were pleasantly warm, the reusable cups doing their job at holding in the heat so Arthur could carry them without fear of burning himself.

“Well,” Francis started as they left the break room together. “Gilbert told me, that Erzsébet told him, that she heard from Emma, that Michelle saw you down at that Italian place with the big boss last night.”

Arthur almost spat out the sip of tea he had taken. He spluttered as he struggled to swallow the hot liquid, glaring at Francis as he harshly pounded his back. When Arthur finally felt like he could breathe again, he jabbed an elbow into Francis’ side to stop him from hitting him again. He was cautiously aware of the way the boiling drinks his hands were sloshing around in their cups, waiting for the opportune moment to spill all over him.

Arthur out on a date? With their boss of all people? How ludicrous.  Arthur desperately tried to prevent the heat rising to his cheeks, taking a steadying breath in an attempt to slow his quickening heart rate.

“How utterly ridiculous.”

“Were you?”

“Are you honestly asking me that?”

“You know as well as I that Michelle isn’t usually the type to start rumours.”

“Perhaps she’s turned over a new leaf.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

Francis gave him a stern look that told Arthur he wouldn’t rest until his questions were answered. Looking down the hall ahead, Arthur saw the elevator and immediately his strides grew faster.

“Francis, I’m Alfred’s personal assistant. I am paid to follow him around, schedule his day and generally do as he asks. The only way I would voluntarily spend time with him outside of business hours were if the bloke were to pay me a hefty sum of money,” He explained, watching as Francis kindly pressed the elevator button for him.

“I had to ask!” Francis grinned, holding up the single hand that wasn’t holding his cup in innocence. The gentle ping of the elevator arriving on their floor sounded like music to Arthur’s ears, the doors opening slowly and revealing it to be empty. Arthur felt like he had been blessed. Drinks in hand, Arthur backed into the elevator and quirked a suspicious eyebrow at Francis who remained where he was.

“Of course you did. Oh, tell Gilbert, Erzsébet, Emma and Michelle to stop gossiping and get on with their work. Alfred doesn’t pay them to sit around and spread rumours about his assistant.”

“But gossiping is so fun!” Francis pouted, blue eyes watching as Arthur jabbed a finger into the elevator panel, signalling his exit. “It makes my day go faster. Plus, I’m not sure I believe you anyway. Your cheeks are red and you have your liar face on.”

“Goodbye Francis,” Arthur smirked, holding up one of the cups in a gesture of farewell as the doors began to close. He could see the way Francis narrowed his eyes at him, uncertain of the truth within the rumour.

As soon as the doors clinked closed and the elevator began to rise, Arthur let out a long sigh. What a morning it had been so far. The elevator took him up several floors uninterrupted. Arthur was thankful for the peace and quiet. When it arrived on the correct floor, the familiar ping sounded, and the doors opened slowly this time onto an extremely quiet floor of the building.

Arthur stepped out and made his way down the hallway ahead. Looking down at the carpet, he was surprised he hadn’t worn it out by the number of times he passed this way. He felt as if this route around the office was programmed into his brain.

Ever aware of the increasing warmth in his hands, Arthur passed by the door with his name etched into the silver plague and continued down the hall. At the very end stood a smart looking door, a golden plague shimmering on its front with the words ‘Alfred F Jones, CEO’ engraved into it.

Polite as ever, he stopped outside and tapped on the door with his elbow. When a quiet ‘come in’ came from inside, Arthur once again relied on his elbow to press down on the handle and open the door. It swung inwards into a large spacious room. The first thing that Arthur noticed was the view, one of the walls on the right made completely of floor to ceiling glass overlooking the bustling city below. On a clear day like today, it was easy to see off into the distance and spot the towering mountains littering the skyline.

“You took your time,” said a voice. Arthur rolled his eyes and closed the door with his foot, heading in the direction of the desk on the left of the room, situated opposite the breath-taking view.

The desk was long and neatly organised with all the essentials one would need to run a business smoothly. A fancy computer screen was angled on the desk as to not block the view and a neatly stapled booklet of paper that had once lay prominent on the desk was being shuffled into a brown file out of sight from wondering eyes. In front of the desk were two comfortable looking chairs, angled perfectly to face its centre and readily awaiting use when the next private meeting came around.

“I was harassed by a certain Frenchman,” Arthur replied, weaving around the chair, and handing one of the cups across the desk to its eagerly awaiting owner.

Alfred was slouched in the comforts of his desk chair. The collar of his dress shirt had been unbuttoned, his tied slackened to lay lazily against his chest and the jacket of his suit hung smartly across the back of his chair. He smiled as he leant forward and took the cup from Arthur, beautiful blue eyes seeming to sparkle at him from behind the silver frame of his glasses.

“Thanks,” he said before taking a long, clearly needed, gulp of his coffee. He hummed at the taste; eyeing Arthur as he set the cup onto a designated coaster. Arthur copied his movements, taking a quick drink of his still boiling hot tea before placing the cup on the other unoccupied coast beside Alfred’s. “What did he want?”

“To inform me of another delightful rumour.”

“Let me guess, you’re secretly a spy trying to infiltrate my company?” Alfred grinned, relaxing back into his chair with his hands resting behind his head. Arthur’s green eyes followed the way his shirt pulled taught, begging to be untucked from his waistband.

“Oh, I’m most definitely a spy,” Arthur smirked playfully, walking around the desk.

“I knew it!” Alfred laughed, pushing his chair back away from the desk and opening his arms in Arthur’s direction. The Brit took the invitation with no hesitation, walking straight to Alfred and perching comfortably in his lap. The CEO hoisted Arthur up, throwing his legs over the arms of the chair on one side. With one arm comfortably secured around Arthur’s back and the other settled across his waist, Alfred’s hands clasped together to engulf Arthur in his warm embrace.

“Apparently I was spotted down at Vargas’ place on a date with the big boss last night.”

“Oh, really?”

“Uh-hm.”

“And what did you say?” Alfred mumbled as he pressed his nose into the crook of Arthur’s neck. Arthur’s eyes instinctually fluttered closed as he felt Alfred’s lips caress his skin, trailing sweet kisses from the crook of his neck to the base of his ear.

“I said that the boss would have to pay me quite the sum of money if he wanted me to spend time with him outside of work.”

“How much we talking?”

Arthur turned his head to face Alfred when he pulled away. Their faces were mere inches apart, Alfred’s breath dancing across his skin. Alfred had his eyebrow quirked as if genuinely curious.

“Thousands, perhaps even millions.”

“Ah, well, I’ll gladly pay you millions in kisses,” Alfred whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Arthur’s lips. Arthur found his arms reaching up to entangle themselves around Alfred’s neck, pulling him closer when the other tried to pull away. Arthur grumbled an incoherent grunt that sounded somewhere along the lines of ‘not yet’ before dragging Alfred back in for another, much longer kiss. Alfred’s arms held him tight, his hand coming to rest on Arthur’s hip and rub tingling circles through the fabric of his clothes.

“This is why you’re the centre of all these rumours,” Alfred whispered between kisses until Arthur was satisfied and pulled back.

“Shut up,” He huffed, turning his head so Alfred was left once again kissing the side of his head. “It’s not my fault. You’re just as clinging – if not more so when we are at work!”

“Hey, I’m the boss I can do what I like.”

“I know, that’s why you’re never the one covering off these bloody rumours.”  

“Who started it?”

“Michelle apparently, although I’m not sure I believe that,” Arthur explained, looking over to the windows and admiring the view. Would Michelle really waste her time ensuring a rumour about him made its way around the office?

“Why not? She looks like the gossiping type.”

“I’m pretty sure Francis is onto us. In fact, I don’t believe there is a rumour at all. I think Francis just needed an excuse to ask me himself without doing so directly.”

Alfred laughed at that, nuzzling his nose affectionately against Arthur’s hair until he turned back around.

“Sounds like a Francis thing to do. To be honest, I did think I saw him last night.”

“What?!” Arthur’s eyebrows immediately fell into a default scowl, searching Alfred’s eyes for signs that he was lying. If Francis really had been there at the Vargas restaurant, then he knew for certain that everything Arthur had told him downstairs was a lie. Was he waiting for Arthur to come clean and tell him the truth personally?

“Hey, it was for a brief second! I just saw a flash of blond hair from behind a plant – it could have been anyone! Wait - where are you going?”

Before Alfred could even finish his sentence, Arthur was out the door. It took him a record amount of time to bypass the elevator, race down the stairs and hunt down Francis. Arthur had known him for long enough. He knew his games – he knew their games. On many occasions in their youth Arthur had been the one undercover, hiding behind the plant and spying on Francis to ensure his date was going well.

Sure enough, Francis was in his office. He was sat casually at his desk, a light glow cast across his features from the computer screen in front of him. Sat prominently on his desk was the same obnoxious cup from earlier. He seemed startled by Arthur’s sudden intrusion, locking his computer quickly.

Arthur said nothing, watching Francis squirm under his gaze as the office door clicked locked behind him.

“YOU SNEAKY, RUMOUR STARTING, NOSY TWAT!”

[crossovereddie]

Thoughts on 11x06

I had to come back to type this after the episode. I was gonna wait to post until more people are active but everyone’s safety is more important than notes. This was really hard for me to watch. It took me two hours because I kept needing a break. It’s a tough one yall. It’s heartbreaking and really brought out issues I didn’t know I was still dealing with until I reacted so badly to some stuff. Take care of yourselves and I’m here if you need to talk. I’ll have timestamps for major tws in another post coming right after this. I just gotta go back and get the end of those scenes. I only go the time they started.

Okay. So. There’s some trigger warnings that I’ve reblogged earlier. This recap WILL have thoughts about those triggers. If you think you’ll be triggered just message me or send me an ask and I’ll give you the non triggering recap. Stay safe please.

Kev and v intro. They’re having sex behind the bar

I’m extremely nervous for some reason I might not be able to get through this

Bike heist!!

LICKEY RIGHTS

LIP CALLS HIM MICK

MISSION IMPISSIBLE

Mickey is unimpressed

Lip telling Mickey what to do yes please

Fucking Mickey omg

HE LOOKS SO GOOD

THE WAY HE SAYS BRAD

Again Mickey is unimpressed

Lip :(

MICKEY CONCERNED ABOUT LIPS SOBRIETY

AGAIN I SAY LICKEY RIGHTS

Frank is falling the chick he’s boning Monica

Not sure that’s her real name

Wait yeah it is

Frank??? Has to get to work???

Wait her name isn’t Monica

Oh shut now I get what’s happening

“Can I speak to Pope Francis please” LIAM 😭

Poor baby

Lip cooking breakfast. Hot.

I forgot about camis baby

I actually beep bad for lip and Tami

We already heard this argument with Mickey and Ian get new material writers

PRODIGAL THEIF

PINK BOX HES SO CUTE

HE LOOKS SO CUTE GOTTA SQUEEZE HIM PLS

Yeah don’t tell Carl that traitor

MICKEY BROUGHT DONUTS PLS

HES SO CUTE

ITS TOO MUCH

I LOVE HIM

HIS SMILE!!!!!!!!

GALLAGHER YOUTH

THAT MEANS MICKEY TOO BYE

CARL CALLING HIM MICK TOO PLS

I CANT TAKE IT

Poor Liam he’s terrified

“I was hoping the fucker would just die” :(

Shut up Debbie

Mickey is beautiful

Leave Mickey out of it debbie goddamn

I cant fucking stand her

Frank just observing his kids and smiling

Same frank

SHUT UP DEBBIE

OH MY GOD HIS LAUGH IS THIS WHAT YOU HEAR WHEN YOU FIRST GET TO HEAVEN????

“And the smartest” lol

Someone save Liam

“I want Sandy”

We all do kid

Fucking manipulative little I CANT STAND DEBBIE

Sandy deserves better

I hate the Milkovichs!!!!

How did smart sensitive sweet beautiful loving Mickey come from this disgusting family????

MICKEY IS THE BOSS

My heart hurts so him

“Homo sexy” dear god

Mickey is too good he deserves so much better

I love him so much

Let him be happy

Mickey has the biggest heart

They’re actually talking and not fighting

CHAPO STFU

You’re so funny and smart and beautiful don’t forget that baby

SUGAR TITS

And no one is fazed lmao

“He’s actually my uncle and my dad” I fucking hate this show

I forgot Carl makes legit money now

Wtf kinda school is this

This is so fucked up

The twins are so adorable

SHUT UP DEBBIE

“You guys” I hate that but also she’s acknowledging Mickey as “hers” and he’s family :(

Okay this horrifying comment

I hate that it’s just nonchalant

Debbie just keeps talking.

Let’s move on

Mickeys face when she says “butt naked”lmao

LIP CALLING HIM MICK AGAIN

“Talk to you for a minute?”

“Yes. Please”

I LOVE IT

Mickey is unimpressed by lip once again and I’m smiling

They love each other they’re secretly best friends ITS A FACT

HAND SHAKE SO CUTE

MY BABIES

“Blue like my balls” fucking frank lol

They’re going in on Frank’s storyline now

Boss Mickey at it again

Terry’s home

The way his face falls im sick

SANDY BABY

My heart is racing

Mickeys face is breaking my heart

Great now I’m crying

Mickey got emotional

Ian sensed it and touched his neck all fucking sweet

Okay I had to take a little break because I started crying

I love him too much

Fucking Noel is so damn good

My heart is fucking breaking

“Frank’s not a homophobic psychopath who tortured you for years”

Please Mickey deserves better

I don’t wanna hear any Ian slander either.

In this house we protect my son and my son in law I will fight you

“Let’s get the fuck outta here. Lip you coming?” 😭

That was so hard to watch yall. I’m not gonna lie to you. My parents weren’t half as shitty as terry but growing up feeling unloved your whole life fucks you up anyway and that brought out some emotions and feelings I didn’t realize I still dealt with. I had to pause for a good while and cry.

Leave Sandy alone debbie

Terry is disgusting

Okay the homophobic language he uses is definitely triggering so I’ll time stamp that too

Debbie you selfish bitch

Everyone leaving terry outside it’s a yes from me

I honestly can’t concentrate on the other scenes now I’m sorry y’all

I try to cover everyone’s scenes but it’s hard for me today

I’m not okay

Liam is too innocent poor kid

MICKEY LIP AND IAN THE BEST TRIO

We need more scenes

I PAUSED TO TYPE AND THE FUCKING LOOK HES GIVING HIM STOP

They’re besties

Mickey is beautiful

MY BABY BUSINESS BOSS MAN I LOVE YOU

he really hasn’t called him Philip the entire episode wtf

Ignoring Debbie

Now I want fries

Carl is cringy

Mickey drove them home and pulled a gun

Honestly again another heartbreaking scene

Ian’s trying to make him stop

Terry is disgusting and also a coward but we’ve been knew

Noel is the most amazing

Mickey gets teary but doesn’t cry bc I cried enough for the both of us

He’s the strongest bravest ever and I’m so proud of him

I need a hug

My heart hurts so much y’all

I just want him to be happy

I’m a fucking mess

I can’t handle Lip being emotional too

Oh I thought lip wanted to sell the house for himself only but at least they all get their share

Horrible music choice

I wanna tuck Mickey in with his favorite tv show on(911) make him his favorite food to eat in bed and not let anyone but Ian around him for a good 72 hours

The way Ian is looking at him

“Would you take care of me if I was paralyzed?”

“....yeah. Yeah”

“Top you whenever I wanted” “asshole”

His smile is back that’s all I need in life

MICKEY IS TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD

RIP DOWN THAT FLAG YES BABY

“That was big of you” “he’s an asshole...I wanna be better than that”

WHEN I TELL YALL I LOST IT I MEAN FULL ON SOBBING

YOURE ALREADY A THOUSAND TIMES BETTER THAN THAT PIECE OF SHIT

YOURE SO KIND AND BRAVE AND BEAUTIFUL INSIDE AND OUT

Ian’s like “back of the head? Gotta grab and hold my boy”

“You are so much better than that” IAN MY SWEET SON IN LAW I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR LOVING OUR BOY SO WELL

IAN IS THE MOST SUPPORTIVE HUSBAND

V spitting truth

I want terry to fucking suffer

Don’t do it frank

“Nah” LMAO

Frank loves his son in law

Sandy I love you

I need to hold her

No debbie I LOVE HER

NO SANDY LOVE ME INSTEAD

DEBBIE DOESNT DESERVE YOU

Carl scene was so awful I feel so bad for him this girl is a fucking psycho

That was an actual rape scene what the fuck

Mickey making frank laugh

Debbie explaining? Really?

I hate her

“How long is this gonna take? I’m fucking starving Lip” WHY WONT YOU CALL HIM PHILIP

“We could get on with our lives” well that hurt more than it should’ve

It’s really the end soon huh? 😢

According to captions Ian says “we’re in”

Frank reads his diagnosis

Carl goes to report his rape

That took me nearly two hours to watch. Yeah I usually pause to type but I had to take long breaks after the hard scenes. It was a really hard episode to watch. A lot darker than it has been. I’m not really okay right now. It was emotional but a really good episode overall.

[inkstaineddove]

Loneliness and Alcohol

Ships: PruHun, SpaAus, GerIta; blink-and-you-missed-it USUK

Characters: Prussia, Austria, Hungary, Germany, Italy, Spain, France, America; mentioned Britain, the Netherlands, Belgium, Romano, and Belarus

Summary: Every year America sends all the nations invitations to his New Year's Eve party and every year Germany, Hungary, and Austria decline. Until 2019, when America finally invites Prussia, and they're all dragged along. It's Roderich's worst nightmare, but Gilbert and Erzsébet have plans to cheer him up.

Berlin, 2019.

Germany entered his home, grumbling and shuffling through the stack of mail in his hands. Trash, trash, bill, trash. He scowled at the sparkles sticking stubbornly to his fingers. “America’s New Year’s Eve party invitations arrived.” He glanced over at Hungary and Austria, sitting at the dining table and gossiping with Prussia. “I don’t know why he continues to send me one. I’ve been declining the damn things since the fifties. Have you two gotten yours?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve been here all weekend.” Hungary wrinkled her nose at the thought of attending. “I don’t want the hassle of flying over there. I’ll send him a bottle of champagne to be polite.”

“I received mine before I left this morning.” Austria sniffed, sticking his nose up. “I can only imagine what kind of parties he throws. They’ve got to be houses of debauchery and sin. I loathe going to New York for the U.N. meetings enough as it is. I will not be heading there in my leisure time.”

Prussia nodded vigorously. “Yeah, his stupid little shindig isn’t worth the airfare!”

“Calm down, he sent one for you too this time.” Ludwig slipped the little piece of paper before Gilbert, watching his brother’s expression change.

Eyes wide open, then blinking in disbelief, to a steely determination. This changed everything. “Actually, I’ve heard from Francis that he’s got fountains of beer flowing. Isn’t that amazing?” He took Erzsébet’s hands in his, turning his whole body towards her. “We should go! It would be fun!”

She jerked her hands away from him. “No! I refuse to go on principle! You can’t stand the guy, the only reason you want to is because he bothered to remember you this time!”

“Not true!” He felt everyone’s disbelief boring into his skin. He bowed his head, hoping humility would work in his favor. “I never get invited to anything anymore. This feels special.”

“Aw, cheer up. You still do,” she leaned in and kissed his cheek. A teasing smile inched the corner of her mouth up. “As my plus one.”

This solicited a chuckle from Roderich, who was silenced by Gilbert’s heel digging into his toe. Gilbert sighed dramatically. “I liked it better when it was the other way around.” He tucked a strand of hair behind Erzsébet’s ear. “We could go for an hour and then leave. Dance the night away far away from him. Have a picnic under the stars. Let me have my fun and then the night’s yours.”

What would be the harm in it? And, really, a night with him traipsing through New York could be rather romantic. It would make up for having to deal with everyone else. “An hour, tops, to feel like a hotshot. I don’t want to stay longer.”

Ludwig sat down, coffee in hand, in the empty seat besides Roderich and Erzsébet. “I can recommend you two a hotel close to his home. There’s a few good ones.” He looked up from his drink, meeting Gilbert’s gaze. There was an incomprehensible look in his brother’s eyes. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, wait, actually. Lean over.” He forcibly wiped away a speck of dirt from the other man’s cheek, paternal instinct kicking over. It made Gilbert feel useful and Ludwig completely embarrassed. “I’m just surprised you’re letting me go to one of these things unsupervised. This’ll be fun for me. I’ll be on my best behavior as the representative of Germany there. If his boss is there, I might ask about helping us get back some land to the east. In our best interest, of course.”

“I would consider it a victory if he even knew what Prussia was, Gilbert.” Ludwig could feel the vein in his forehead beginning to throb. He hadn’t considered this unintended consequence. He would have to trust his brother. He could do that. He could manage to trust Gilbert for one night.

Roderich gently tapped his fingers against the table, understanding what Gilbert was trying to do. “Excellent idea! And, while you’re at it, let Feliciano know not to look for Ludwig.” He turned his attention to Germany. “Afterall, he will be so gravely disappointed at your absence. My heart breaks for the poor man.” He clutched his chest for dramatic effect.

Realization dawned on Ludwig. So that’s what they were getting at. “Anything left from the third stooge, Erzsébet? Or is that enough from the peanut gallery?”

She did have something but didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. He was chewing through his cheek enough as it was already. “What was that? I don’t speak German.” She spoke, naturally, in perfect German. This won her groans from Roderich and Gilbert, who had received that joke many times before, and a stare with deadened eyes from Ludwig.

“Fine! I’ll go! Are you both happy?” Ludwig got ready to chew them both out before something clicked. “Wait. Roderich, you can’t stay here. If we’re all gone, who are you going to freeload off?”

“Must you be so rude in your phrasing?” Roderich crossed his arms over his chest. “Have you considered that having all of you not even on the same continent as me might be what I want? I would enjoy a quiet New Years with a glass of champagne while strolling through the city.”

Erzsébet rubbed a hand along his forearm. “It’s ok to say you’ll miss us. You’re the one who wanted to see us all today.”

Ludwig nodded. “And you typically show up here, unannounced.” He chuckled, remembering something. “Once you’ve had a few drinks, you start blathering on about how lonely it is in Vienna and how lovely it was during the war to have everyone living together.”

Roderich opened his mouth to protest. That sort of thing was supposed to be private and never mentioned again! Unfortunately, Gilbert reentered the room, shaking his phone in his hands. “Just got word back from the boys that they’re all going. And you know what that means, Roddy? The only person to make you feel like a man-”

“Fine, you lot win! I’ll go! We’ll all go!” He buried his head in his hands. “That is the last time I confide in either of you two. Blackmailing me like that, how low.” He shook his head.

Gilbert clapped him on the shoulder hard, causing Roderich to wince. “Relax, this really isn’t so bad.”

---

New York.

The four of them sat in complete silence, cramped in the back of a taxi. They had landed only four hours before and found themselves completely jetlagged. Gilbert had his head buried in Erzsébet’s shoulder. They both were propped up against the window. “Why did you drag me to this thing?”

She was too drained to fight back. “Because I’m an idiot.” If she closed her eyes, the continuous stopping and starting of the car felt like being rocked to sleep. There was a certain peace and rhythm to it. Her eyelids began fluttering down, down, down.

“Sir, pull over here please. We can walk the rest of the way.” Ludwig handed the man a twenty, jerking awake the drowsy trio besides him. As the most accustomed to making this flight, he was least affected by it. “Come on, get out. We’re a block away. This will perk you three right up.”

This displeased Roderich greatly. Walking, in these shoes? They were meant for completing an outfit, not for any sort of movement. “Oh, why do we care to be on time. This damn thing will be lasting the whole night.” At Ludwig’s aggrieved look, he rolled his eyes. “Fine, we’ll have it your way.”

“Of course, the one time I’m wearing heels. They’re worthless, you can’t do anything in them but stand around uselessly.” Erzsébet was having her own version of the same problem. She leaned against a wall to take them off. “Now I’ll have to walk barefoot in this grimy place.”

“You won’t. Your knight in shining armor is here to save the day.” Gilbert scooped her up bridal style, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Nothing to fret about now, Liebling.”

She gently caressed his cheek. “Quite the gentleman tonight, huh?” She leaned in against him, laughing against the crook of his neck. “I could get used to traveling around like this. I may have a job for you.”

Hearing their giggling and affectionate words, Roderich couldn’t help rolling his eyes. With all his might, he caught up to Ludwig to put further distance between himself and them. Hearing Gilbert’s low voice singing something indecipherable sent a further wave of nausea through him. “Don’t they make you sick too? It’s disgusting.”

“Hmm? Oh, them.” Ludwig chuckled. He’d been born into that weird triangle, and yet, it never ceased to amuse him. “Please, they’ve been doing that in front of me since I was a child. You get used to it.” A pause. Another chuckle. “Why see them so often if you can’t stand it still? One might think you’re a masochist.” The last word lilted up another octave. He couldn’t help it; he’d inherited his brother’s love of for annoying Roderich.

“Don’t imply things. It’s unbecoming.” Roderich shoved his hands into his coat, partly from the bite of the wind and partly to give him something to do. “Who else would I spend my time with? I have no other friends.”

Ludwig gave him a pitying look. Thankfully, before he could say anything in response, they were before Alfred’s door. Loud music could be heard booming from the other side. He politely rang the doorbell. No answer. He rang it again. “He must not be able to hear. Maybe I should call someone to let us in.”

“For Christ’s sake, Lud, we’re not vampires! Just open the damn door!” Gilbert pushed him aside and shoved the door open. Inside the home laid a different world. Sparkling balloons kissed the ceiling. Strobe lights flashed in the center, creating a dance floor. Glitter clung to the floor and women’s bodies. Some big singer, none of them knew who, stood on stage, performing her biggest hits for the receptive audience. The smell of smoke hung in the air as fireworks went off in the backyard. It was lavish, it was gaudy, it was quintessentially American.

Gilbert’s eyes traveled immediately to the promised fountain of beer. He thirstily filled a cup with some and took a sip, only to spit it back out. “My God, this is revolting! It tastes like piss!” He took out a flask of the good stuff he’d smuggled in from home out of his pocket to take the rancid flavor out of his mouth. His first goal of the night was already ruined. “Where did Ludwig go?”

“He raced off to go find Feliciano. He went…” Roderich’s voice trailed off as he tried remembering where in the sea of people Ludwig had been absorbed. His bearings were completely lost. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Erzsébet sidled up to Gilbert, a devilish smirk on her face. “You know, Alfred’s got plenty of rooms here. What do you say about sneaking away and having a good, long nap?”

He snaked his arms around her waist. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” They began laughing like school children, enjoying their little conspiracy.

Roderich’s irritation grew further. He began tapping his foot, needing somewhere to put his frustrated energy. “You two don’t need to play so coy. Or, if you must, I would expect you to be more creative than using napping as a euphemism.”

Blank stares met him. “Roddy, we’re literally going to take a nap. We’re both exhausted.” Gilbert began elbowing him in the side. Roderich didn’t trust the glint in his eyes. “If you’re so worried about our sex life, I can fill you in on the details.”

Before Roderich could even respond, Erzsébet was dragging Gilbert away, his guffawing thankfully swallowed by the noise of the crowd. Roderich sighed, relieved to be alone. A new problem arose. Now, what would he do, who would he follow? He looked around the room, hoping for some familiar face. No one. A mass of strangers, swaying along to the music and spilling their drinks. Nothing he wanted to be apart of.

Where were his manners? He’d been graciously invited to another person’s home and he hadn’t even thanked the host yet. Being around all these ruffians had caused him to forget himself. Straightening his suit jacket, he began braving the throngs of people. Along the way, between getting nudged around by delirious dancers, a glass of wine had made its way into his hand. He didn’t mind. Surprisingly, it was of excellent quality. He suspected it must’ve been the Italians’ gracious donation to the festivities.

There in the backyard was the host. Alfred was bumping and grinding away in the center, dirty dancing with an incredibly inebriated Arthur. Francis was yoking them up, benefiting himself from the hordes of beautiful men and women attending. Roderich would rather avoid them, but it would go against the rules of decorum he so stringently followed. Mustering up all his courage, he approached.

“Alfred. Alfred! America!” Finally, America’s attention was caught over the music. “I sincerely want to thank you for the invitation. I wish I had attended one of your parties sooner, but I’m usually quite busy this time of year, what with the holidays.” He was lying through his teeth. He wanted nothing more than to be back in Vienna. This was the kind of nightmare scenario only Gilbert could drag him into.

“Yeah, dude, no probs. You’re totally invited here whenever. Me casa, is your casa.” It appeared that Alfred was long gone as well. “Dude, you should’ve been here hours ago. We’ve been pregaming it since nine this morning.” His laugh, which was always obnoxious, was even more grating. “Tomorrow’s gonna be the most intense hangover in the history of hangovers, right Artie?”

Arthur had lost the ability to speak and was only able to communicate in a series of grunts. Sensing Roderich’s horror, Francis swooped in. “Come, let’s go inside to the bar there.” He began steering them away from the center of the party, tutting his lips. “This is no good, why did you come? Your weak constitution can’t handle these sorts of events. Who dragged you here?” He shook his head, knowing the answer already. “No, don’t tell me. You have to stick up for yourself more.”

“I’ll have you know, perhaps I wanted to come on my own. I’m capable of deciding things for myself, unprompted.” He didn’t have to see Francis’ face to know the reaction to what he said. He sighed. “Who else would I have spent my time with? No one wants to spend New Years alone.” He realized they were still speaking English, instead of switching to French like Francis preferred in one-on-one conversations. Despite not showing it, the other man must’ve been drinking heavily too.

Suddenly, Francis turned around. His index finger traced Roderich’s jawline. “No, you are too beautiful to ever be alone. It’s good you came tonight. Come with me, I can make you forget all your worries for the night.” He allowed Francis to kiss his cheek, his breath stinging of stale booze. “It’s been too long since we’ve been together. Please, honor me with the memory of how you win with love.”

Despite himself, Roderich had to admit it was tempting. If everyone else was going to have their fun tonight – or, so he assumed, he had no plans on asking – then why shouldn’t he? “My apologies, but it seems that memories are all you’ll have tonight. From me, anyways.” It wouldn’t feel right. Not when he was so clearly off his game. Leaving him staring after him, Roderich took a spot at the bar.

Nursing a glass of wine, he considered that this wasn’t so bad. At home, in front of his favorite café, he enjoyed people watching. It was a peaceful way of passing the time, to see all the people rush by and create little stories for where they were going. Normally, it was quite easy to get into it, but he saw too many people he knew. Romano with his arms around two women’s waist. The Netherlands being yelled at over money by an irate woman. Belgium shimmied to the bar and back, laughing with a group of girls she’d befriended. Everyone was here, everyone was having a good time. The only mystery was why wasn’t he.

Before the full wave of self-pity could sweep him, he spotted Germany and Italy chatting on a couch. It was a sign, a sign that he wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the night in the corner. Never in his life had he been so excited to see Feliciano. He even greeted the man with a warm hug, ignoring the frustration rolling off Ludwig in waves.

“Austria! Ludwig was telling me you were here, but I didn’t believe him! How exciting, having the both of you here!” Feliciano was practically vibrating with joy. He was overcome with emotion, but that came as no surprise to his companions. It’s how he always was. “Sit down next to me, I can sit on Ludwig’s lap!”

Roderich complied, ignoring the daggers Ludwig was shooting at him. “Well, it would be rude not to.” He full attention was on Feliciano. “Tell me, how have you been? Did you only recently arrive?” With that, he was off to the races. The Italian could talk a mile a minute, filling up all the space in the room. For once, Roderich didn’t find it annoying. It gave him something to focus on, something to find enjoyment in. And he was having a good time. The kid had grown up to be entertaining in his own way.

The same could not be said for Ludwig. The vein in his forehead was throbbing. Before this, he had been having a nice evening, much to his chagrin. Having his cousin tag along was not something he wanted. He cleared his throat. “Where’s Gilbert and Erzsébet? Did you lose track of them?”

“They ran off as soon as we got here to sleep together.” Roderich realized his mistake. “To nap! Supposedly they’re jet-lagged.” His face felt extremely hot.

“I guess they woke up cause there they are. Gil! Erzsi!” Feliciano jumped up, waving towards them at the bar. They began waving them over. “Let’s all go over to them! I wanna say hi!”

While his date was preoccupied, Ludwig had been furiously shaking his head at them. “No!” This didn’t need to become a family affair. He wouldn’t have it become that. “Actually, France is looking for us. Let’s go find him.” Not waiting for an answer, he dragged away a very startled Feliciano.

Once again abandoned, Roderich slinked back to the bar. As soon as he arrived, he was ensnared by Gilbert’s arm. He could smell scotch on his breathe as he spoke. “What have you been up to, Roddy? You better be out there, mingling with everyone, making me proud.”

His silence was telling. Erzsébet put a hand to her chest, sighing. “Oh, he’s so lonely. Gil, we have to take him in.” Much to Roderich’s dismay, they both were far gone. They couldn’t have been sleeping for long to be this drunk. That, or they kept downing drink after drink in short succession. He wasn’t sure which was more comforting.

His protestations that he wasn’t some stray puppy were drowned out by Gilbert. “Of course, we can! Who else would take care of him? Oh, don’t look so depressed, Roddy.” He leaned over the bar. “Can we get a round of kamikazes?”

Roderich stared down at his little glass. He sniffed at it and scrunched his nose up. What a foul concoction. “I appreciate it, but I don’t see how this will improve my mood.”

“It’ll help you loosen up. You’ve been uptight ever since we were on the plane.” Erzsébet gently elbowed him in the side. “I know this isn’t your thing. Try to have a little fun, Roderich. No one here is going to judge you for it.”

She herself looked so at peace, didn’t he want a little bit of that? Besides, the two of them were staring at him so expectantly. Did it matter this much to them that he felt included and part of their little group? He had thought they only kept him around out of pity, perhaps it was more than that. “You two are a horrible influence on me.” He knocked the shot back, met with rapturous cheering from them.

Another three rounds and Roderich himself was now feeling the effects. His ears were so warm, his feet so tingly. It took all his balance to lean into the bar counter for support. His vision was a little fuzzy, but he still felt aware of everything around him. That awareness was spent on watching them – their arms intertwined, feeding another shot to each other, foreheads pressed together while giggling. “Doesn’t that get tiring?” Maybe it wasn’t for them, but he found it exhausting.

That snapped them out of their fog. Gilbert was grinning like an idiot. “Why would it get tiring? I’ve spent lifetimes waiting for her. I’ve got her now, so completely. You want me to back off for your comfort? Please, I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He had been staring into Erzsébet’s eyes as he spoke. He leaned in, only to find he was kissing air.

Erzsébet had been speaking at the same time as him, giving Roderich difficulty in following along with them both. All her usual inhibitions in speaking on this subject towards her ex were gone. “I had a crush on him growing up and now I get to live out a fairy tale. He’s right, we’re made for each other. And,” a devilish look settled on her face. When Gilbert went in for his kiss, she had pulled Roderich towards her to whisper in his ear. She dished on all the vulgar reasons for their behavior.

“Good God, Erzsi! I don’t want to hear all that!” He gently pushed her away and stole her drink, finishing it in one gulp. He hoped to forget what she had said, but she’d painted too vivid of a picture for him. “Why would you think that appropriate?”

“Wait, what did you say?” Gilbert leaned down so she could repeat it. “You tease.” They locked lips, grabbing at each other’s clothes.

Roderich didn’t know whose tongue he was seeing, but he knew he wanted it gone. He pulled them apart. “Holy shit, enough! Enough! Are you two forgetting that I’m here?”

“You’re right, Roderich, I’m sorry.” She pulled him into a deep kiss. Once satisfied, she let him go with a laugh. “There, now it’s just like old times. Oh, but what were we saying before? Right! I wouldn’t mind if you told me whatever you got up to. It’s been, what? A hundred years since the divorce? What happens in our personal lives now doesn’t matter.”

At the mention of their divorce, Gilbert ordered another round of shots. He shoved one onto Roderich, who certainly didn’t want to be drinking to that. At this point, why did it matter? Why did anything matter? Seeing whatever that mess was in the backyard, hearing in detail about Erzsébet and Gilbert’s sex life, becoming completely wasted. There was no meaning to this night. “Well, if we’re being honest, there’s nothing to say. I haven’t been with anyone in years.” He clinked glasses with his shocked companions. “Cheers to the life of a bachelor.” He enjoyed his drink.

His admission was a surprising one. Hadn’t this been the man who, during his days of empire, was willing to lie down with anyone if it served his purpose? How could this behavior have so suddenly ceased? It was no wonder he was so perpetually grumpy; it was a much deeper problem than Roderich’s baseline snootiness. Gilbert and Erzsébet shared a look of understanding. A moment of clarity provided them with a new purpose for the night.

Erzsébet began straightening his clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles with her hands. Once she felt her work completed , she combed his hair with her fingers, tucking loose strands behind his ears. “Oh, Roderich, you poor thing.”

For his part, Gilbert ran through a list of people he knew in his head. “Francis would be an easy one. But then you run the risk of catching syphilis and that’s no good. You shouldn’t go near strangers, you can’t talk to anyone.” He drummed his fingers against the bar counter. “Natalya’s gorgeous, but no one can handle that.”

This was ridiculous. Roderich didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this. Why did he allow himself to be strong-armed into this night? “Stop it, I never asked for this. Both of you, you’ve completely lost it.” His head felt woozy and it wasn’t from the drinks. Their pity was dizzying.

If they heard him, they didn’t care. Something else had caught their attention. “Spain!” Damn Prussia’s voice and how it always carried. Spain was snapped to attention and began waving them over. As he was pushed along, Austria decided this was the worst possible outcome of his life. Forced to travel to a country he found the bane of the civilized world, his only company his ex-wife and the man who was quickly becoming his worst enemy again and humiliating himself before his ex-husband. It would almost be comical if it wasn’t reality.

“My life is a tragedy of errors.” Austria sighed wistfully. He suddenly missed the days where he was on top of the world and wouldn’t be made to suffer such indignities. Though, if he allowed himself to be honest, how much they cared was oddly charming if they weren’t so overzealous.

Spain was equally thrown off by the sight before him, but for much different reasons. “Oh, you three are still keeping up with that getting along thing. I would’ve thought all of you would be tired of each other by now.” He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing. “I miss the fighting, it was much more interesting.”

“If it’ll get you in the mood, we can start hitting each other.” Gilbert shrugged, ignoring the horror on Antonio’s face. “Put the lust back in bloodlust, you know.”

Roderich was staring intently at the floor. He thanked the dim lighting for hiding his blush. “Gilbert, I swear to god. If you keep speaking, it’ll be like the old days in more ways than one.” He spoke through gritted teeth, trying to control the outburst that was begging to be let loose.

Gilbert tried to wink, but due to his intoxication it appeared more as a twitch. “I understand completely. New tactic. I’ll help you loosen up instead.” He started vigorously massaging Roderich’s shoulders. “Shit, you’ve got a lot of tension. What’s got you so stressed out?”

To make matters worse, Erzsébet began giving him a pep talk. She was bouncing around on the balls of her feet with her fists in front of her like a prize fighter. “Rod, you’ve got this. You’ve done this before, you can do it again. Give him the full force of your charm! Start smiling, it makes you look pretty!”

Antonio had not moved from his spot. He watched them closely, unable to contain his laughter. For him, this was an amusing little skit. A performance that could be fully enjoyed. Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, he smiled. “Are they alright? What’s going on here?”

“They think I’m pathetic so they’re trying to be my wingmen.” Roderich shrugged Gilbert off, glaring at him. “They’re so out of it, I don’t think they realize how much more harm than good they could be doing.”

“Oh, who are they trying to set you up with?”

The three stooges ceased their nonsense. Could Antonio really be that oblivious? Was it not painfully obvious? Then they remembered who they were dealing with. Of course he would be like this. Slowly, acting as if they were dealing with a startled animal, Erzsébet and Gilbert backed away. Roderich could still feel their eyes on them, but for the first time didn’t care.

“That part doesn’t really matter.” Despite the shift in the mood, he wasn’t about to admit his hand so early. That would be more embarrassing than everything that had happened previously. No, not while a spark of hope just reignited itself. “What I’m more interested is in you.” His tongue was too loose. “In what’s been going on with you! How’ve you been, why you’re here.” It was a lackluster recovery, but Antonio didn’t seem to pay it mind.

“You’re really only interested in small talk with me? Roddy, I think we know each other better than that.” Antonio gently bumped him with his shoulder. “I’m not the mystery here. You’re out here, partying, drinking the night away. I couldn’t believe it at first. I thought it was your evil twin.”

Roderich swirled his glass of wine in his hand. “I don’t quite believe it myself. But the mark of a good man is in his acceptance and willingness to change, to be open to experience.” He chuckled, a crass joke coming to mind. “And you know me, I’ll try anything once.”

That won him a surprised and appreciative laugh. Roderich forgot how comfortable Antonio was, how easy his presence was. A part of him had missed this, a part of him he had tucked away many years ago. This was the man that started it all for him. There was a nostalgia there, a sense of belonging and home. Was it memories as substitute for any remaining chemistry? Who was to say? Certainly, he didn’t find himself caring at this moment. Hard questions could be answered tomorrow. Let tonight be for spontaneity.  

As they spoke, the physical and emotional distance kept growing smaller. It was only when their arms were brushing against each other that Roderich fully noticed the lack of personal space. He found himself appraising Antonio’s figure, starting from his toes to his calves to his thighs to his…assets to his chest and lingering in his eyes. “I forgot how nicely you cleaned up. You’ve always looked-” Divine? Beautiful? Stunning? Flirting had never been his forte, much to aggrievement of both his spouses. “Resplendent.”

“Oh, don’t make me blush. Wait, here.” Antonio began futzing with Roderich’s tie, chuckling. “Didn’t get someone to tie the knot for you this time? Let me fix it for you.” In a fluid motion, he made the tie a bit tighter than needed. Their eyes remained locked the whole time, a smirk on the corner of Antonio’s lips and a blush darkening Roderich’s face.

Uproarious cheering broke out throughout the home. The ball had dropped. The new year had begun. Without saying a word, Antonio pulled him in. Their lips met and it felt like renewal. Whatever remained of Roderich’s restraint fell away when Antonio tugged at his lip. What brought him back to reality was the overjoyed sounds of Erzsébet and Gilbert, celebrating in their victory.

He rolled his eyes, a thousand different things coming to mind. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish. What could he bark at them? Their actions had been maddening throughout the whole night. And, while he found how they had behaved degrading for all involved, what did it show him? That, in their very strange way, they truly cared about him. That they didn’t view him as the third wheel who continued to tag along out of habit, but as part of their weird little group was. Whatever the result of the rest of the night, he considered this to be more important.

Friendship. It was the only kind of friendship either of them were capable of – messy and complex and interwoven in ways no other parties could ever fully understand. He valued it most of all.

Roderich held up his watch and tapped it. He couldn’t believe himself. “It’s midnight. You two better catch up with the rest of us.” For the first time in his life, he actually laughed as they grabbed for each other and began kissing (he supposed that’s what it was, it was far too animalistic for his tastes) with frantic energy.

Antonio looped his arm through Roderich’s and began steering him towards the door. “Come on, Cinderella. I’ll walk you back to your hotel room.”

“Such a gentleman.” What a way to ring in the new year.

[slaughtergutz]

I NEED to know more abt the dear Vigo boi and spiky goth Aquarius. May or may mot have a crush on both of them ; w ;

TIME FOR SOME PARAGRAPHS [tw: child abuse, cult mention, death; ask to tag for other things that i might miss]

ALRIGHT SO Virgo boy is Judas Punch. He usually just goes by Jude.

Born in 1970 to a well-off family in Los Angeles, Jude’s older sister, Michelle, was secretly a huge Manson groupie. After a particularly intense LSD trip while listening to The White Album,  the song Hey Jude came up and she took it as a sign. As he began to grow older, she started grooming him for her vision of Helter Skelter, to carry on Manson’s work. 

November 16, 1978 was scheduled for Manson’s parole hearing, and that, she believed, would be the perfect time to send a message. 

Jude, in the meantime, has been a worry for his family. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t like eye contact. He moves very strangely--born with hypermobility, he bends very easily and comfortably, and this worries his mother. He’s had three exorcisms, none of which seemed to have helped any. That doesn’t even cover what sort of things his sister has been having him do. His twin brother doesn’t seem to have half of the problems he does and is much more well adjusted.

But he’s smart, and learns quickly. What Michelle does, it makes him feel bad, and he doesn’t want to do what she’s making him do. For tomorrow, she explains, when she tells him to, he needs to give this knife to their neighbors, right in their belly as hard as he can. But he knows that won’t feel good, because his back and forehead still hurt where it kissed him. He doesn’t like being bossed around, and he doesn’t like her. 

So the night before the hearing, Jude kills his sister. It seemed to be the right thing to do, why didn’t anybody else understand that? 

Jude spends the next five years in a mental institution, receiving no real help and no support from his family. Eventually he is shipped off to the east coast, to a small town called Pockmark. Unsuspecting though it may look, they boast one of the best institutions in the country, specializing in music therapy. 

There, Jude is finally able to open up and takes up various instruments quickly. They help him organize his thoughts and keep his hands busy.  And eventually, there, he meets an obnoxious punk rocker named Sisco who won’t stop asking him to join his band. Jude’s therapist says it might help his social skills. Whatever. Jude doesn’t really care, but relents as it gives him a chance to challenge himself musically.  He still can’t stand listening to the Beatles.  Other tidbits: He’s in the closet because he’s seen the sort of trauma Sisco has gone through and he doesn’t want to go through that himself. He’s also clairvoyant and sees white crows nearby people who are about to die, and can otherwise speak to the dead. Nobody ever believed him, of course, so he doesn’t talk about it. Corinne’s the only one that really believes him. He can seem airheaded sometimes because he often experiences missing time.  --------------------------------------------- AND AQUARIUS, that would be Xenon. Born 1952 as Adam [Redacted], he had medical complications from early on. Albinism was the most apparent but due to developing alopecia, he was completely hairless by the age of 10, which also affected his immune system. Xen was in and out of hospitals from various illnesses through most of his life, in addition to be very serious and introverted, left him with few friends. He bonded closest with other black sheep, his best friends being beatniks and those in the freak scene. 

He was only in the sixth grade for a week before falling horribly sick once again, and was stuck in the hospital for the rest of the year. Two of his classmates, however, would visit him daily. They were outcasts too. Dmitri, Beatrice, and Adam were inseparable. 

They didn’t bother to wait for graduation to pack up and run away to New York City. It may not have been any more accepting of them than other places, but they had ways of getting work, and it was much more exciting than a small town. And more dangerous. Especially for three young queer kids. 

On June 28th, 1969, a police raid on Stonewall Inn turned into a riot. All three of them spent the night in jail. 

After that, Adam and Dmitri became less hidden about their relationship. Beat got in the most trouble usually for being both an outspoken Black Panther supporter and an outspoken feminist lesbian. But the two men stood behind her every step of the way. 

Dmitri eventually founded a wildly successful underground zine called Fantasy Planet, which showcased queer models (like Adam) and queer art and literature (with many contributions made by Beat.) In their off-time, Adam and Beat were apprenticing as a piercer and tattoo artist respectively. 

With a supportive network and community, Adam was finally able to explore parts of himself he ignored before. His gender. His sexuality. His humanity. Morals, worldviews, politics, ideas, purpose. Around this time, he began to go by Xenon, taken from the noble gas. On occasion he would publish articles and stories under this new name before using it in public. Many of the characters in his stories were alien, and used new and ungendered pronouns. It was safe to do so, in fiction. And it was safe to do so, at home, when it was just the three of them. 

Hard drugs weren’t uncommon in the scenes they frequented. They didn’t have a name for what killed Dmitri. It was pneumonia, they were told. 

Xen completely shut himself away and became solely focused on his own work. The remaining two left NYC and opened up a shop in a small town called Pockmark in PA. Dmitri’s grandmother lived there and she needed to be taken care of. She raised him. It was the least he could do. And, despite how bigoted the townsfolk could be, there was a growing market for body modification.  Their most frequent visitor was a man named Billy, and his entourage. He often visited from Crater City. There were rumors he had mob ties. Nothing Xen wasn’t familiar with. His only concern was the boy who followed him around. A young orphan they called Francis who couldn’t have been older then thirteen.  Not stepping in sooner ended up being one of his greatest regrets.  (But don’t worry, he sort of made up for it by being the only person to visit him in the hospital after the fire. He’s basically his dad now.) Other tidbits: One of Xen’s most hardcore body modifications was the removal of his nipples and genitals. He also has the majority of his body tattooed and, being a huge fan of the movie Alien, has a heavy biomechanical theme. He considers himself to exist outside of gender and being human. After Dmitri’s death, Xen and Beat became legally married--in case either died, the other would be able to get their assets. They love each other deeply but platonically. Beat frequently dates other women (though not as much in the small town), while Xen does not. If he had the words we have today he would call himself asexual and aromantic. (He was in love with Dmitri and found no reason to continue romantic exploits after his death.) While he is a father figure to Sisco especially, he also very much plays a mentor role for Jude as the two are rather similar (introverted, serious, and both contenders for being the King of Deadpan Humor.)

[writingamongtheroses-archive]

The Lady- Chapter 3

(Monet gains a buddy.)

“Wait- what?”

“Honestly, Rob, I’m not even sure why you’re here.”

Monet opened her eyes, looking around. She...she was at the diner. How silly of her to forget. Francis wanted her to visit. Apparently, he had a new opportunity for her and Dae. Robert “Rob” Polk, her junior apartment mate, had insisted on tagging along. He claimed it was so he could check out the new music store, but she couldn’t resist the twinge of fondness. “-onet? Monet, what do you think?”

“Sorry!” she burst, sitting upright. “Sorry. Got lost in thought.” She turned a smile at Francis. She still felt flattered that the man, three years older than her, paid so much attention to her. “Can you repeat yourself, Franz?”

Pink burst to life on his face for some reason as he fiddled with his glasses. “Um, of course, Monet.” He cleared his throat, aiming a smile of his own at her. “I want us to make Dae a cartoon. I showed some investors your Dae the Demon comics, the ones in the funnies. Several were interested.”

Her eyes widened with shock. After a stunned minute, Monet gasped and grabbed his hand. “Really?!”

He chuckled, staring at her tenderly as he clasped her hand. “Yep! Now, we just need to make some model boards of a demo episode to show them.”

“Wow,” Rob snarked from where he leaned against the diner seat. He was a tall, sandy-haired man who looked like he never smiled. (It was one of her greatest goals in life to get him to smile, besides his smirks at other people’s suffering.) “I didn’t know you helped create Dae.”

“I just want what’s best for Monet and her little devil darling…”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know about this we business…”

“You don’t have to be involved. I don’t even know why you’re here…”

Monet rolled her eyes, pulling out the small sketchpad she always had on her. She knew the routine by now. It was best to let the boys argue until they wore themselves out or came to blows. She took a sip of her milkshake, trying to figure out what she could do for the demo episode. The taste registered and the sophomore did a spit-take.

The two stopped arguing as she coughed and spat. “What’s wrong?” Rob asked, handing her a napkin as Francis patted her back.

She wiped off her tongue. “I- I don’t know! My shake just tastes like…” Monet picked up the glass to get a good look. Her mind screeched to a stop when she realized that her vanilla shake was black. She let out a cry and dropped it. The glass shattered against the table, the ink spreading across it. The girl looked around, suddenly realizing that the booth simply hovered over a sea of dark ink.

“Rob?”

Where was he? She was so sure he was right next to her.

“Monet. My sweet, sweet Monet. He’s not here.” An arm wrapped her shoulders, knuckles fondly rubbing her cheek. “It’s just you and me.” She pushed herself away, looking up. Francis Matthews, looking like he did the day she left, sighed. “Of course you’re still stubborn darling. But, no matter.”

From the sea below them, ink roared up and splashed over them. When she was done coughing and spitting, she realized that the ink had formed chains around her wrists. She opened her mouth to say his name, but the chains yanked and she was thrown from her seat. When she surfaced, the ink forming more chains around her, she looked up.

Ink leaking from his eyes, Francis smirked.

“See you soon Monet.”

-_-

Monet let out a gasp as she sat up in bed.

She looked over her wrists when she managed to calm, sighing when there were no chains to be found. “It was a dream.” As she absently rubbed her wrists, she looked around.

It was a small room. A Dae the Demon clock hanging on the wall said it was three o’clock- although Monet had the feeling that time was up for debate. Two cots had been set up. She laid on one of them, feeling like she might throw up…

Wait, no. She was.

There was a bucket set up next to her cot. Monet managed to roll off the cot in time to throw up in it. Why was it called morning sickness when she had it all day?! She wasn’t aware of anyone else until she managed to hear “Hey-OH JESUS!” A hand held her ponytail out of the way, another patting her back.

Finally, it was over. Monet let out a groan as she sat back. Buddy settled next to her, rubbing her back. “Sorry,” she managed out. “First trimester.”

“You’re pregnant and you still came?”

“Thought I would try and mend some bridges,” she said with another groan. “Obviously, that’s not what happened.”

Buddy patted her on the shoulder before getting to his feet. “C’mon, I made some food. You probably need it- you’ve been out for about two days, if that clock can be trusted.” Monet nodded, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her to the next room.

They sat in a space free of ink at a table that looked like it had seen better days. Monet whispered her thanks when Buddy set a bowl full of soup in front of her, taking one for himself. She remembered when Francis had entered what could be best described as a mood, hiding emergency supplies in random places in the studio. Guess it worked out after all.

“So, I guess I should explain what happened,” Buddy said after a few minutes of sipping mushroom cream soup- more like mushroom flavored broth at this point. “I guess it started with this thing-”

“The Machine.” Monet interrupted. He stared at her in surprise. “I was still working here when Francis had it installed. He never told me what it was for.”

“Making live toons.” She dropped her spoon, staring at him. “Well, I think that’s what he was trying to do. He didn’t tell us that though. But...people started to disappear. Grunts at first, people easily replaceable. He told us that they had left. But the kicker was Angelina.”

Monet froze. “What...happened to Angelina?”

Buddy shrugged. “I...don’t know. She started wearing this little black dress and golden cross everywhere, you know, like Lady Dot.” She nodded- Dot was Dae’s foil in the form of a very religious but kind human noblewoman. “Then she started looking all sickly. Her skin got paler and her eyes were turning black, then she started having this cough. Mr. Rob was really concerned…”

“I don’t like it.” Rob groused. Buddy glanced up at his boss, seeing his gaze was hard on Angelina. She was talking to Tobias White, the studio’s projectionist, smiling and waving off his clear concern. “She’s been getting worse.”

“Maybe...she just has a bug?” Buddy suggested meekly.

Rob turned his glare onto his intern. “Yeah, because a bug makes you look like a corpse.” He thought over his words. “Wait, they actually can nevermind. But still-” The music director was cut off by a thud, followed by several people screaming. Buddy watched as Rob paled and took off through the crowd. He was quick to follow, finding Rob and Tobias by the collapsed Angelina.

Ink was leaking from her nose, her mouth, her eyes. She stared blankly at the ceiling, not seeming to notice Tobias yelling for help or Rob’s desperate pleads. “He...is a liar.” she rasped.

Then there was nothing.

“People tried to evacuate,” Buddy scraped his spoon against his bowl. “But Mr. Matthews...he stopped us. A few managed to get away, while others fell to the ink. The Machine disappeared and so did Mr. Matthews. Nobody knows how to fix it.”

Monet stared at her own bowl.

Her appetite had been lost.

She had so many good memories of the studio. Going over the new songs with Rob, sharing lunches with Tobias, helping the janitor Luis Diaz find his keys, talking about Dot with Angelina. All led back to the sunshine-filled diner where a young man plopped himself across college freshman Monet Garcia and introduced himself as Francis Matthews.

“What happens...if the Machine was turned off?”

Buddy thought for a moment.

“That might work...except nobody knows where it is. Hasn’t been seen in over nine years.”

“Yes, but, if someone did find it…?”

He nodded. “It could work. Do you want to look?”

She did, but she raised a brow.“Do you?”

The boy considered this in silence. “To be honest, before you showed up, I thought I would never leave. But, I have an older sister who was pregnant when I got stuck here. I wonder if she’s given birth. Do I have a niece or nephew?”

Monet extended a hand with a gentle smile. “You can find out.”

Buddy considered her before smiling and taking her hand.

“Then let’s do it.”

Tag List: @fishymom-art, @h-faith-marr-writeblr, @captainleemon

[nedcanquen]

Chapter 10: Mr 7th Floor

When I posted Chapter 9 I mentioned that I applied to grad school. Well the good news is...I GOT IN! I had to once again move to a different country (in a different part of the world) and start my Masters. I’ve enjoyed it, but it was a huge adjustment for me, hence the long delay. Thank you so much to anyone still reading this and following this story. <3

---

Tags: Slow Burn (like…really slow burn) - endgame is NedCan but they don’t get there directly, Single POV, Yep, Canada will date other people before endgame because he’s very desirable even if he doesn’t always know it, Audit firm AU, Office AU, some angst…

Pairings: NedCan (endgame), NorCan, implied NedDen, DenNor, implied Spamano, France/Jeanne d’Arc, GerIta

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |  Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Matthew is about ready to stop fucking crying already. But it’s therapy, so all he gets is a break until the next session, he supposes. Dr Laurinaithis is not fussed, he must have a closet full of tissue boxes in this job, and seen a few swimming pools worth of tears. Matthew doesn’t know how he feels about that, but he does feel like going through two boxes of tissue papers is too much, no matter how kind Dr. Laurinaithis is about it.  

It's a relief to leave the building, though he wishes that the lightness he’s supposed to feel after a huge cry was actually there. It’s not. Because he’s forced to talk about things out loud that he usually tries to hide from himself, he’s feeling raw. It occurs to him that he may need emotional support to even get through therapy. His mind jumps to Lukas, just because it had been his idea in the first place, and immediately dismisses it.

Sometimes the hard thing about a breakup wasn’t the breakup itself, but breaking the habits that had been formed before it. Matthew and Lukas had moved slow, but he had always been aware of him in a strong sense, and knew that Lukas was a reliable man and a good listener. Maybe that was why Lukas was the first person he had called when he panicked about Arthur. He feels embarrassed about that now, Arthur is a grown man who doesn’t need anyone to be regulating his drinking, and when did Matthew care about drinking this much? It wasn’t the drinking he had responded to, he knows that now, it was the realization of the loneliness Arthur would have had to have been experiencing to over-rely on a bottle. If Arthur were still his direct Manager, Matthew would have found him and kept him company. As it was, not he never really knew where Arthur was in the world at any point of time, or if he would be welcome, or if Arthur the Partner would have any time for him, so he tried to get other people to make sure that Arthur was cared for. It’s a strange thing, Matthew doesn’t even do this for his own father, and his mother has never needed help. He’s always felt like the soft and vulnerable one in his family, but Arthur respected that, somehow teaching him how to succeed in this firm despite wanting to hide from the world sometimes.

Maybe it’s time to visit Mom. Except he feels bad for burdening her with his insecurities, and moving to the city and thriving here is supposed to be proof that he’s grown up now, all her hard work was worth it. She would see right through him the moment he walked through the door.

As he climbs into his car he looks at his now terrible reflection in the mirror. Not good, Arthur's farewell do is in a couple of hours. He really didn't plan this out very well, but Dr Laurinaithis‘ first available appointment had been today and sometimes Matthew was a little too efficient with getting through his to do list. He pulls out the wet wipes he keeps in the glove compartment and runs it over his face, hoping the cool and damp cloth will do something about the obvious swelling around his eyes and nose.

He can blame it on allergies. Yeah why not. They were going to a park after all.

But first, time to pick up Shell.

He knows the way to her place so he drives there almost on autopilot. She wouldn't be fooled by the “allergies”excuse, so he'll probably have to come clean to her about therapy. The idea makes his stomach clench, he knows objectively that Michelle wouldn;t judge him, but therapy is still something intensely personal. But still, shouldn’t he give her a chance? Friendship was also about vulnerability. Then again, she was also a colleague, and he doesn’t want their friendship to make her work more difficult. She just saved him from a terrible meeting earlier in the week, and now he wonders if she'll question his ability to work and lead, if his lack of promotion somehow pushed him off an edge.

Matthew takes a deep breath and decides to get on with it. She’ll notice or she won’t.

He drives up and sees her standing in front of her apartment, grinning at him in a light blue dress, and waving excitedly at his car. He cracks a smile at that. He's just thrown on an old red t-shirt and a pair of jeans, it's a barbecue after all and he'd rather not have his better clothes stained with fat and smoke.

The moment she gets in the car, her face drops. Yep, no fooling Shell. He opens his mouth to try to explain but finds he can't really.

Michelle squeezes his shoulder. “Matt… are you…” but maybe because he couldn't say anything, she opts not to either, and just leans in to hug him.

There's a moment of guilt where Matthew feels terrible for bringing her mood down, guilt that he can't admit something that is nothing to be ashamed of, but he appreciates the hug and leans into it all the same. Somehow it’s a little better.

“Sorry to worry you Shell, I just had a rough morning, I'll be fine.” Her hair smells like coconuts and there’s some part of him that thinks of warm island breezes and white sands, far away from his problems here.

When they pull back, she tilts her head, pondering. “Matt I didn’t want to bring it up earlier because I wasn’t sure if it would help and you didn’t seem to want to talk about it, and I’ve always looked up to you. But I feel like I have to say something. You’ve been through a lot lately, and you've been holding it together really well. Sometimes I don't know why you're still even in the team instead of running off to a well deserved island break. Francis would deserve it. And Lukas I mean… have you had a chance to talk about Lukas? And you invited him today so...Look Matt, no one will think less of you if you’re selfish for-.”

“I don't want to talk about it right now Shell.” He’s exhausted, he's talked all morning. “Thanks, really. It’s just that… trust me I'm talking a lot.”

She doesn’t press, and Matthew is glad, but she does pat his arm. “That’s great, but...I’m here too if you need me you know. Also, I would totally make up a good excuse for you if you decide you need to leave early today. You’re the one who told me that rest doesn’t mean weakness, it’s just strength in the long run.”

How did he come up with these things? “It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” He repeats out loud, but in his head he hears Arthur say it, because that’s who he had learned it from. Sure, Arthur wasn’t great at living by the occasional wisdom he managed to say out loud (and read in a book somewhere), but that didn’t mean it wasn’t wisdom. It was Arthur who showed him that you trudged on, no matter the difficulty or tears. He’s seen Arthur fight through insecurity and frustration with little to no guidance to rise on his own.. It’s another reason why Matthew has to turn up, has to celebrate his day with everyone. Arthur was the first person whom he felt had really seen the value in him and invested time into him. He’s a big reason why Matthew is the professional he is today.

“Yeah.” Michelle replies with a worried smile.

First they stop off at the florist to collect the flowers that Michelle had ordered. Gardening was one of Arthur’s passions, though Matthew wasn’t sure how many people remembered that anymore. These flowers wouldn’t imitate a garden, but they would be the closest they could get to recreating a happy space for Arthur.

Under Michelle’s guidance they had outdone themselves. Somehow, Michelle had secured two barbecue pits in the park. Jack and Gerard  from Daan and Arthur’s team were cooking up a storm, and as far as Matthew could figure out - took barbecues very very seriously. But it’s exactly what Matthew had previously envisioned - children ran around on the green, playing with each other. The open air and casual atmosphere made everyone relax, the flowers they were setting up made everything look that much more festive. Although, the lack of beer at a barbecue was perhaps a little obvious and noticeable.

“Juice?” Ha strolls up with a grin, holding two cartons of orange juice in hand.

Oh man...they’re never going to hear the end of this.

“Or…” Ha grins “Are we holding out for the sparkling juice?” The alcohol-free ‘champagne’ - still get the pop, but no kick. For the purposes of the day, Michelle branded it “child’s wine.”

Matthew grins, “No reason not to have both.”

All the Partners are late, which doesn’t surprise anyone. It seemed to be a regular code of conduct to allow the rest of the staff to enjoy each other’s company before the bosses came in. What was surprising however, was who arrived next.

“How come there’s no music at this party?” Mathias grins as he walks in with Emil, rolling in a cart of danishes and other delicious foods. Just how much were they going to eat today?

“Mathias? Hi.” Matthew waves. Why was he here? Was it weird to feel like he and Mathias were kinda friends? Even though they didn’t know each other very well and had met under very convoluted circumstances. “Oh wow these kids are going to be on a sugar high all day today.” He doesn’t know how Arthur will feel about rowdy children - he knows the man loves kids but generally in an unrealistic way.

“That’s the plan!” Michelle laughs.

Matthew nods and walks around, greeting everyone but ultimately he’s just looking for a bench to sit on while everyone else is occupied. He lets the sound of happy children trill behind him as he takes in the view of people simply enjoying their lives on the green. He breathes in deeply, and lets his breath out, calming his mind and thinking about nothing in particular. When he finds his empty bench, he sits and muses a little. He realizes that he’s not changed as much as he thinks - he’s generally known who he is. But at the same time, he feels born anew, like he’s stumbling to figure out the world all over again for the first time. He thought he had it figured out, he’s been doing what some invisible societal book out there tells him he has to do, that Arthur had mastered, and the book wasn’t wrong per se, but it was wrong to deny him himself. As Dr Laurinaithis (Toris, he had told him to call him Toris - Matthew can only imagine how he must have butchered the man’s name) gently told him this morning - it’s about learning to rephrase, to be present, to be conscious and aware. Matthew is focused on what he hasn’t achieved, and not so much on what he has.

Easier said than done really. It’s one thing to understand the logic of doing that, it’s another to be personally sold on it. So he’ll start with baby steps - if he doesn’t feel comfortable with something, he won’t just push down that feeling, he’ll process it. Maybe Shell is right, maybe he needs a trip…

“Didn’t think you’d be the one to judge a party without alcohol.”

Matthew is jarred out of his thoughts by a somewhat concerned looking Daan, who’s holding a cup of orange juice in his hand.

Daan looks like he’s about to say something with his trademark dryness but stops. His expression shifts from glib to concerned. “Hey…” He doesn’t finish his thought though, Daan casts a nervous look behind at the party for a moment, then looks down with a sigh. He silently comes over to sit next to Matthew on the bench.

Matthew tries to saw something to dismiss the concern, some greeting, to steel himself to stand and join the party. But he’s just too tired. Instead he asks “I look that bad huh?” It’s not much of a question.

Daan doesn’t bother to voice the obvious, and offers the orange juice instead. “I haven’t had any.”

“No thanks.”

They sit in silence for a moment, and Matthew is glad. He’s glad he doesn’t have to explain himself, but he’s not happy that Daan has seen him like this. There’s nowhere to escape in a park though, so he may as well just sit here. Anyway, Daan’s presence has its advantages, like giving him a further excuse not to go back to the party. And now that he’s free to just return to his silence, Matthew finds himself observing Daan when the other leans over, resting his arms on his knees, sipping from his cup. He remembers what Lukas said, about Daan having to give away a project, about Daan going through a weird transition right now.

He can’t see a shred of evidence of it anywhere.

Matthew takes a breath “How do you do it?”

“Hmm?”

“Arthur drinks, I...well I work out and occasionally go hiking, but I’m obviously not dealing with my troubles well because you took one look at my face and decided it’s better not to drag me back to the party. But you, you’ve never looked weak, no one would look at you and go ‘hey...maybe I shouldn’t promote him, I don’t want to be guilty of manslaughter.’”

Daan let’s out an annoyed huff. Matthew observes him as Daan sits up and straightens himself. “I’m pretty sure you saw me during a pretty rough patch at least once. Like that night you brought Emil to Mathias’ cafe. Man...that was a really shitty time. I was doing a pretty good job at denying just how shitty it was just two days before that, but there’s nothing quite like enforced quiet solitude on a 24-hour flight to make you realize how much you’re not going to be able to lie to yourself about this one.”

Daan’s voice is filled with so much...regret? Matthew doesn’t realize he’s reached out until he’s squeezing Daan’s arm in reassurance. They both tense with the contact, and Matthew quickly withdraws his hand. Stupid stupid stupid. “Sorry.” He mumbles, though he’s not sure what exactly he’s sorry for.

Daan doesn’t move, he just stares at the grass. “I trust my people.”

Matthew screws up his face in confusion. What did Daan’s team have to do with anything?

“Arthur drinks; you work out and hike; I have pets, a sister who can’t ever stop mocking me to remind me that I’m not that great, a baby brother who somehow looks up to me enough that it balances out her mocking, a friend who makes sure I’m fed and will drag me out of my door kicking and screaming if needs be to just...cycle somewhere, a…” Daan stops suddenly and frowns, squeezing the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath, which he lets out. “You get the idea. I have people that I trust, to see me like that, like this - the way you saw me when I forgot my keys. I didn’t always have them, I didn’t always appreciate them, but I get by because I have them. I’m not a particularly social man, but I have a community that’s mine. That’s how I do it.” Daan stands from the bench and Matthew’s eyes can’t help but follow him, looking up and Daan turns. “You do too. And so does Arthur to be honest, neither of you are the lone wolves you try to be.”

Matthew laughs. “Lone wolf? Me?”

Daan shrugs. “We never really knew each other until recently, but I remember seeing you around before. Always in a group with other associates, usually with either Michelle or Ha, or…well, leaving birthday cupcakes on Arthur’s desk in the early hours of morning...”

Matthew’s eyes widen, Daan had seen that?

“Made me jealous to be honest,” Daan continues. “No one’s ever left me cupcakes.”

Matthew laughs. “Your housemate makes damn good danishes.”

“Well yes, but let’s be honest here, he’s never really made them for me, I just happened to be around. Besides, is a danish a cupcake?”

Matthew shakes his head and rolls his eyes fondly. Honestly.

“My point is,” Daan adds pointedly. “You have a community. Let them help you. Not saying hiking isn’t a good coping mechanism though.”

Matthew finds himself feeling a little lighter, and able to stand to return to the party. He looks up at Daan’s concerned face and smiles. “Thanks for the pep talk.” Daan is really really good at his job - who knew that this guy could give good talks like this? No wonder his team did so well.

Daan nods and looks behind him. “You want to join the party? Or should I make up an excuse?”

Matthew turns and observes the party too. It’s happy, pleasant and perfect - Michelle’s magic in full displace. “I don’t want to ruin it by bringing down the mood, Shell worked so hard. But I haven’t quite reached the point where it’s polite to leave yet. I should at least speak to Arthur. It’s crazy, I haven’t really talked to him at all lately.”

Daan’s tapping his fingers on the back of the bench, and Matthew doesn’t look at him, expecting him to leave at any moment. But instead, Daan surprises him.

“Want company or to be alone? Lukas will text me when they’re about to arrive, no one’s going to hold it against you if you sit out here. You’ve already greeted everyone.”

“I…” Both? Matthew wants Daan right next to him, a solid presence on a day when Matthew feels cast out at sea, riding on tumultuous waves of his stamped down emotions. He also doesn’t want to be a burden.

“Right, don’t worry. Take your time.”

“Wait!”

Daan pauses in his stride surprised. He must have presumed that Matthew’s reluctance to speak was out of politeness, not indecision.

“I don’t mind company I’m just not great company myself right now so, it’s really up to you. I’m sure you have schmoozing to do.”

Daan casts a skeptical look at the party. “I see them practically everyday. I don’t mind some quiet. They’re all in love with Mathias anyway, I’ll give him a chance to keep charming his regulars, uninterrupted.”

Matthew can’t help but laugh. “So he knows everyone?”

Daan shrugs. “Well whenever we have a party we tend to buy food from him, so by now, yeah.”

“I distinctly remember him telling you that night at the cafe, that PKDE was your life, not his.”

Daan lets out a snort and a little laugh. Matthew likes that little laugh, a little too much. He churns inside because no.

No. No. No.

Nononononononono…

“Sometimes when I piss him off he says things yeah, but he’s such a softy now you have no idea.”

For lack of anything else to say (because he’s afraid to say anything), Matthew just replies, “Tell me.”

So Daan does, and Matthew looks down at the grass seeing nothing because he knows he’s gone and done something even more irrevocably stupid. It was inevitable really, just a matter of time, and he had been in so much denial because he hadn’t wanted to stop himself. But was there really any other way that this was going to go for him? He can’t even hide it from himself anymore.

He’s in love.

[how-manygalileos]

Yes, Minister - A BoRhap Politics AU

A/N: Hey gang, this is a fun lil project I’ve been working on with the ever wonderful @rachelweiszs-areawoman. It’s been super fun writing with her and this is the first chapter, we have no idea how long this is gonna be but probably pretty long so stay tuned, hope you like!

Word Count: 1908

Chapter 1

Miss Kathleen ‘Kick’ Shawcross, MP for Bethnal Green and Bow walked into the Foreign Office. She’d been appointed a Junior Minister at the Department for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs in the latest Cabinet reshuffle. She was a newly-elected Member of Parliament, and considered herself very lucky to have been appointed a Minister so early in her political career. The Labour party had won in a huge landslide once again in the general election and Kick was one of a new generation of Labour MPs doing their bit to govern the country.

She flashed her security pass and made her way up to her office. As expected, it was the size of a broom cupboard; charming and efficient, but ultimately a very small room. Unexpectedly, it had a connecting door with the Secretary of State’s office.

The Foreign Secretary.

The Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, generally considered one of the most handsome men in Westminster, was to be her boss. Before Kick could muse about him any more, the man in question walked through the door.

“Miss Shawcross, welcome to the Foreign Office.” he said, sticking his hand out for her to shake.

“Thank you Minister, and please call me Kick.” she replied, shaking his hand.

“Kick?” he asked.

“It’s a long story from my days at Bristol University involving the Chief Whip. I'm sure you'll get to hear the tale at some point, Mr Lee.”

“Gwilym, please.”

As if on cue, the Labour Party’s Chief Whip, Ben Hardy, MP for Stretford and Urmston walked into the room.

“I would introduce you but apparently you already know each other,” Gwilym joked as Ben and Kick embraced.

“Ben, why are you here?” Kick asked as her friend shook Gwilym’s hand.

“Had to see you on your first day, didn’t I? I see you’ve met our esteemed Foreign Secretary and Member of Parliament for Holborn and St Pancras, the Right Honourable Gwilym Lee MP.” Ben replied, leaning on the edge of Kick’s desk.

“I have, and I like him more than I like you already.” she said, smirking in Gwilym’s direction. He smirked back as he left her office to continue working. Kick’s eyes stayed on the door for a few seconds after it closed.

“So that’s what your type is then?” Ben joked. Kick just glared at him.

“Ben, don’t you have work to do? Someone to go and threaten the job security of or something?” She asked, logging on to the computer in front of her as some kind of hint.

“That can all wait, I just wanted to come and see an old friend and make sure she's all settled on her first day,” he replied in a somewhat cocky manner. Kick shot him a look, reiterating her earlier hint. Thankfully this time, he took it and left her office with a wave. As the door clicked closed, Kick fell back in her chair. She sighed heavily, before there was yet another knock on the door.

“Come in!” Kick called, and the door opened, revealing a young blonde woman.

“You must be Kick,” She said as she walked over, depositing some files on the desk.

“Kick Shawcross. You are?”

“Lucy Boynton, the Minister’s secretary,” the young woman said, smiling brightly. She went to leave, but turned around as she reached the door.

“Gwilym’s single, just so you know.” she said, closing the door behind her. Kick thought, and decided that she didn’t think Lucy was the type to say something like that maliciously. If Gwilym really was single, well, that could cause all sorts of problems.

----

Kick’s first week as a Foreign Office Minister was exhausting. Meeting after meeting and Parliamentary debates. She managed to spend an afternoon in her constituency, and squeezed in a lunch with Lucy for ‘girly bonding time’ as she put it.

Kick was starting to really like Lucy, she anticipated them becoming close over their time together in the Foreign Office. In a male-dominated environment, they recognized in each other a need for female support and friendship. They’d found space in Kick’s increasingly busy diary for a wine-fuelled movie night one weekend to blow off steam after an especially busy week. For the most part, neither of them were paying attention to the film on Kick's TV. Instead they sat there talking, everything from music to family, Lucy's activism to Kick's hopes for the future… and about a certain Mr. Lee.

Not only had there been a general election and a Cabinet reshuffle, a new American Ambassador was joining the Embassy in London, creating a lot of work for the Foreign Office, and Kick. She sat in her office responding to various emails in relation to the new Ambassador's arrival, there was a somewhat intense conversation happening in the adjoining room, it intrigued her.

Collecting a stack of files as an excuse to walk into Gwil's office, Kick opened the door that connected the two offices.

“She's still bloody out there, chained to the Churchill statue of all places.” Gwilym complained, pacing the room and running a hand through his hair.

“I know that, it's about the fourth time you've said it in the past half hour.” Lucy replied, not looking up from the file she was reading.

“I just don't want her there when he arrives, especially as the refugee crisis seems to be her issue of the moment!” Gwilym sits down at his desk, acknowledging Kick with a polite nod, she places her stack of files on his desk.

“I don't mean to butt in, Gwilym, but who exactly are you two talking about?” Kick asks cautiously. The Foreign Secretary sighed and lent back in his chair slightly

“A certain Miss. Elsbeth Stewart,” Gwil seathed, causing Lucy to look to Kick and roll her eyes slightly, “since the reshuffle, she has very kindly selected me as her new target. Every little thing I do that woman seems to have a problem with”

Gwilym stood up again, taking another lap of the room.

“Why did it have to be today of all fucking days?” Gwil groaned

“She's a smart girl, she knows you have to make a first impression, I'm pretty sure she didn't pick today by accident.” Lucy said back to him,

“Lucy, can't you say something to her? You're friends with her for some insane reason”

“Gwil, if she knows you have that big of a problem with it's going to turn her 24 hour hunger strike into a 48 hour one,” Lucy placed the file she was reading on the desk, “I know Elsie, if she knew it would piss you off, she would starve herself half to death”

“That doesn’t solve the problem of her being here when the Ambassador turns up though.” Kick commented as she swiped the file from in front of Lucy and began reading it herself.

“Yes, thank you Kick, that was very helpful.” Gwilym groaned, resting his head in his hands. Before anybody could say anything remotely useful, a Parliamentary Aid poked his head through the door.

“Minister? The Ambassador is about 5 minutes away,” Gwil sighed and winced slightly.

“Great.” he muttered sarcastically, “Thank you for letting me know, I’ll be just a moment,” he said, nodding to the aid to dismiss him from the room.

“It’ll be fine Gwilym,” Kick said quietly as she walked past his desk on the way back to her office. He grimaced at her and nodded in response.

Gwilym walked down the stairs from his office to the entrance hall of the Foreign Office, and took a deep breath as the new Ambassador walked in.

The new Ambassador, Staff Sergeant Joseph Francis Mazzello III was something of a surprise. A young, womanising, ex-marine billionaire socialite with little prior political experience. The Americans obviously thought he was the right man for the job, so there he was.

“Ambassador.” Gwilym said as he shook the man’s hand.

“Please, call me Joe,”

“Then call me Gwilym,”

“Great to finally meet you, Gwilym.” He was peppy and obviously very green, he had a strange confidence and charm about him which was very refreshing to Gwilym as he had grown used being surrounded by the politicians and and diplomats of generations past. Gwilym thought he could quite easily grow to like the young man in front of him, a refreshing change from the last Ambassador.

They made their way up to Gwilym’s office, eager to discuss trade and relations between their two countries, when they almost collided with Kick.

“Kick, this is the new US Ambassador, Joe Mazzello.” Gwilym said as Kick and Joe shook hands.

“Joe, this is Kathleen Shawcross MP, one of our junior ministers,” He explained, smiling brightly at Kick.

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Shawcross.” he said, shaking her hand.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Ambassador Mazzello.” she said back

“Please, just Joe. No need for formalities, I imagine we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” Kick blushed slightly, the American’s charm was lethal. Gwilym raised an eyebrow and frowned slightly over the Ambassador’s mildly flirtatious comment, but quickly pushed those thoughts aside based on the stories of Joe’s womanising nature, they were aside but not gone.

The second they entered Gwilym’s office, Joe made a beeline for the window.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of looking at London,” he mused as he surveyed the scene, attention grabbed by the young woman chained to the Winston Churchill statue in Parliament Square, a poster board with “Lee wants Syrian children to starve to death, I’m starving for a day” propped up next to her and a confident, angry and intriguing air about her.

“Who’s she?” He asked, pointing her out as Gwilym joined him.

“That’s just Miss Stewart, she’s here a lot. Isn’t necessarily my biggest fan as you can probably see.” Gwilym replied, sitting down to get on with the business of the day.

“She really doesn’t like your policies, does she?” Joe commented as he sat down. Lucy sat down at her desk on the other side of the room, and Kick made her way into her office, where she would be listening in.

---- 

A week later, Kick found herself sat in an expensive Westminster restaurant with Gwilym, Ben, and Lucy. Ben had called it ‘team bonding’ but in reality, Kick knew it was just a way for him to get all the gossip from the Foreign Office to pass on to the powers that be. Ben had a remarkable knack for getting anything he wanted out of a Labour MP to pass on to the Prime Minister, Dr Brian May MP.

Ben poured Kick another glass of wine as he leaned in.

“Come on then Kick, pal to pal, what’s the Foreign Secretary actually like?” He whispered as he placed the wine bottle back down. He’d known Kick a long time, and knew she’d have to be spectacularly drunk to tell him anything.

“You’re not getting anything out of me, Benny boy. You’re going to have to work a bit harder than that, mate” Kick replied, trying to listen to whatever terrible joke Lucy was inevitably telling.

“Well, what do you think of him then? Do you fancy him?” Ben asked, still probing his best friend to get something out of her. Kick thought for a few moments, pondering the questions Ben had posed.

“He’s lovely, fantastic at his job. Do I fancy him? Well, there’s still time I suppose”

----

//Chapt 2//Chapt 3

[fandom-meanderer]

Let’s Enjoy Today

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia

Pairing: England x Reader

Part: [1/1] 

Genre: Romance

Word Count: 1,039 Words

Warnings: None

Other Notes: First story here! Please don’t be too hard on me haha

---

Today was another suckish day for you, your boss had scolded you for doing a terrible job again, your car got a flat tire, and you tore your favorite shirt, there is absolutely no way today could get worse

You were obviously stressed out. Be it because of your stiff posture or because of the edge in your voice, people started to steer clear of you. You were snapped to of your thoughts when a certain Italian came up to you.

"Ciao, bella! How are you?" Feliciano smiles.

"Terrible," You replied.

"But why?" Feli gasped. You explained everything that happened to you earlier today. "Oh, that’s so sad! Do you want to get some gelato with me?”

"No, Feli, I'm fine," You walked off, trying to avoid any more conversation. To clear your mind, you decided to continue your walk in the park, popping in both earbuds to drown out the world.

As you walked around in the park. You couldn’t help but notice Alfred running towards you at full speed and flailing his arms like the child he is. You were in no way up to his antics.

"(NAME)!" He calls.

"What do you want?!"

"YOU HAVE GOT TO SEE THIS!" He yelled as he dragged you to what looked like a stage. You pull off your earbuds and began to hear music. Up on the park’s stone stage, you saw your Gilbert on the drums, Francis on the electric keyboard, and Antonio on the bass. And finally, in the center of it all was the one and only Arthur Kirkland, an electric bass sitting naturally in his hands and a mic standing innocently in front of him.

“One! Two! One, two, three, four!” Gilbert counts off.

It is a practice of the noble to have afternoon tea Don't you want to watch the flowers bloom by the River Thames? The sight that can be seen from the window is most wonderful, Even in rainy Hampstead, where it is always damp

You couldn’t conceal your surprise. Arthur Kirkland, the “gentleman before all else,” singing a pop rock song! You listened to his voice, trying to comprehend why. You could feel his emotions being poured into the song, and your mouth twitched a little, almost a smile.

Do not run away, no matter what happens Keep on carrying with you the pride and dignity

As he sang this verse, you could have sworn you shared eye contact. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to get into the song.

I can hear the resounding chimes of the Big Ben And 4 quarter bells telling me that it's mid-day Ladies & Gentlemen, protect our history and morals Don't dishonour our shining glory

You barely noticed your foot tapping to the beat of the song. Every now and then, he would look at you, but continue singing. You saw that Alfred was also getting into it, despite his obvious dislike for Arthur. And it was certainly hard to ignore the crowd that was being drawn. And the park security.

Suits and pea coats make one look smart It is impossible to imitate such elegant sense of dress I will not lose to France in either fashion or tradition What is there to be jealous of in silky hair, anyway?

You watched as Francis made a face to Arthur, but he still kept playing. You looked at Arthur to see that he was putting a lot of energy into this fiasco, it seemed almost too out of character.

Postprandial pudding, best flavour in the world Even the famous scotch egg is very addictive too The black tea from my house is unrivalled If you brew it with the Golden Rule, the taste is supreme In the twilight of London, Tower Bridge is standing tall Have some tea and do some sightseeing, You'll be escorted to the wonderful charm there

You continued to dance along as Arthur started to rock out on his solo. At this point, all of that day’s struggles were long forgotten about. Yet you were still wondering when he decided to do this.

Do not run away, no matter what happens Keep on carrying with you the pride and dignity

You suddenly felt someone grab your hand and pull you on stage, you saw that it was Arthur, you began to dance along with him as he sang and played the guitar. It suddenly struck you, why he did this, that is... Feli must have told him that you were having a bad day.

“Come on! You can dance better than that!” Gilbert laughed behind you.

I will continue moving forward, heedless of the headwind Just like the Eurostar that runs like on wings As always, my style will never change Combining the old and the modern, I will carry on

"What do you think, mon cheri?" Francis said as he leaned in close to you.

"Is he doing this for me?" You asked.

"Oui. Feli told him you were having a bad day. So he gathered us together to do this."

"Sí! At first, we didn't want to do it, because you know Arthur is kind of a prick. But then we heard that it was for you, so we gladly accepted!" Antonio said as he moved in next to you, still playing the bass.

"He'd do that... For me?"

"Ja! It's awesome! Right, Frau?" Gilbert screeched.

Today I can hear the resounding chimes of the Big Ben And 4 quarter bells telling me the time still The beautiful Cotswold and mysterious Stonehenge Ladies & Gentlemen, let's enjoy today with the limited time we have

As Arthur finished the song, you quickly jumped onto him.

"Thanks, Artie!"

"Anything for you, love!"

"So why did you do it?" You asked as you crawled down. 

"Well, um, it was just strange seeing you so upset," he stumbles.

“He wants to kiss you!" Gilbert cackles. You feel your face turn red and looked away.

“At least take me out to dinner first,” you tease. When you turn back to him you see Gilbert tumble off the stage and Arthur brandishing his guitar. “Hey, calm down you two! Let’s-” You shut your mouth for a short while.

“Let’s enjoy today!”

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Leverage Models

Leverage Models started as the latest project from Shannon Fields (late of the much-missed New York collective Stars Like Fleas, and who’s also worked with everyone from Helado Negro to Rhys Chatham, JOBS to The Silent League). After 2013’s highly-praised self-titled debut on Hometapes, Fields wound up assembling a touring band that would wind up making Leverage Models’ newly-released sophomore record Whites(which, for reasons both personal and political, was made in 2015 but is being released now, partly as a fundraiser for the Southern Poverty Law Center). Joined by singer Alena Spanger (of Tiny Hazard) and all three members of the very powerful trio JOBS, among others, in their own words "Leverage Models makes pop songs about transubstantiation, ritual abuse, political apathy, divorce, white collar criminals, poverty, white liberal guilt, anxiety, & self-harm. With roto-toms." In his review, Dusted’s Ian Mathers says about Whites, "Musically, this album would be just as impressive if it had come out in early 2016, but back then maybe more people would assume the high-stakes intensity of the songs here were worrying too much. Sadly, the subsequent time has only shown again and again how appropriate that aspect of Leverage Models’ work really is." For Listed, Fields and Spanger provided a list of current inspirations and overlooked art pop.

Alena’s Current Inspirations

Life Without Buildings—"The Leanover"

The way that this singer, Sue Tompkins, approaches melody and lyric is hypnotizing to me. I love how she continues to repeat words—almost slogans—and alter their pronunciation until they seem to lose their original meanings and become more about the sound of the words. I typically wouldn't love the 90's alt rock aesthetic, but the steady, unobtrusive accompaniment provides the space needed for her vocals to live in.

Francis Bebey—"Pygmy Love Song"

I've been incessantly listening to Francis Bebey for months now. He seems to lean into the rawness and outer edges of what the voice can do. I love the way he mimics the bamboo flute with his voice on this song.

Lizzy Mercier Decloux—"No Golden Throat"

I sometimes feel like I need to shake off everything I learned from years of studying music and get to back to a more fundamental, raw approach. Lizzy is one of those untrained inspirations for me. She barely knew how to play the guitar and started singing not long before this album came out. This resulted in such adventurous, unselfconscious music. She is at once playful, unbridled, and searingly direct. She wasn't really respected in the NY scene when this record came out, and was by some seen as an imposter, reliant on her male collaborators to hoist her up. After digging deeper into her music, it's obvious that she possessed great artistic autonomy and vision and her lack of recognition was a result of unfortunate industry circumstances and sexism. The lyrics in this song are her response to the pressures that's she experienced to sing more conventionally.

Lonnie Holley—"Here I Stand Knocking at Your Door"

I saw Lonnie Holley play in NY recently and was so moved by the freedom with which he sings and the purity and untouched quality of his music. Every aspect of his performance- down to the smallest movements of his body were connected to the sound and channeling into one cohesive and beautiful statement. He is one of those rare, singular artists, who seems to make art out of everything he touches.

Brigitte Fontaine—"Moi Aussi"

She is such a badass. I love the simplicity of using just a drum as accompaniment. In this song, she's singing with her partner at the time, a French/Algerian musician, Areski Belkacem who brought some traditional folkloric sensibilities to their music. The effortless blending of theater and music is something I really strive for in my own work.

Shannon

I needed to give myself a theme so I decided to select some of what I think are overlooked vintage art-pop coming out of the post-punk 80s into the and slick new-agey, ‘world music’ appropriating 90s. I’m completely taken in by that era of experimentation and production right now, though I can’t say why. I find myself drawn most to the songs that effortlessly stumble into choices I don’t always understand. They don’t seem like they’re out to destroy any genre conventions so much as they seem blissfully ignorant of them. Certain moments shock me as to how much more relevant and contemporary the MIDI/electronic, experimental and arty music is as compared to the 60s & 70s guitar-based music that’s ruled for so long (and which has nothing at all to offer a lot of younger musicians I talk to these days). I could have easily made this list 20. This was hard.

Che—I ‎(Narcotic, 1987)

What a confusing record. Half of it is very eccentric, slightly woozy funk. With the subtlety-obliterating rhythm section of Art of Noise or later New Jack rhythms, cock-rock guitars, and these drunken almost a-melodic passages. The ending of Scream Like A Swiftcould be a codeine-fuelled pass at Jensen Sportag’s contemporary hyper-MIDI, vapor-wave smooth-jazz. Moving The Silencesounds like The Blue Nile but with the kind of ironic detachment (think Arto Lindsay & Ambitious Lovers) that leaves you creeped out and confused rather than crying in your drink. And while I’m a bit black-hearted and prefercrying in my drink, I’m also completely transfixed by this. This song, Jerusalem,just kind of takes my breath away with something entirely unfamiliar: built from slabs of goth and pure Peter-Gabriel world-cheese, it somehow alchemizes into something I have never heard. A whole album of this and I’d have it on repeat with Scott Walker’s Climate of Hunter(which also belongs on this list and is one of the best ‘confuse-core’ records ever made).

Akira Inoue—サファリ・オスティナート (Splash, 1983)

I’ve seen this song title translated as "Safari Ostinato". I know very little about this person or this album. Somebody help me. It’s the kind of album that repels and compels alternately. It gives you whiplash in the gentlest, most covert way. It’s a sort of adult contemporary, New Wave, jazz fusion MIDI album and this song is both beautiful and bonkers. The whole album is. I wonder if Dutch Uncles have heard this album. I could draw a line from here to there.

Andréa Daltro—Kiuá (Kiuá, 1988)

Released by the amazing Dutch reissue label Music From Memory. Originally released on Estudio De Invencoes in 1988. Andre Daltro was a singer and the song was, I believe, originally recorded with the band Brazilian "spiritual jazz band" Sexteto do Beco in 1980. But this version trades organicism and chops for drum machine, keys, MIDI sounds, and rattling ambient chatter, both acoustic and synthetic, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever heard…it rivals Arca’s new s/t album for this kind of strange, winsome cyber bel canto transmission from an alien jungle, though far less brooding, no less arresting.

Jane Siberry—Lena is a White Table (The Walking, 1987)

I knew Jane Siberry later hits and didn’t much care for them. I knew she worked with both Hector Zazou and Barney the Purple Dinosaur. I was not prepared when I first heard this album, The Walking. I believe when she was first signed the industry thought of her as the "new Kate Bush" and wanted to cash in on the mass tolerance for ‘art-rock’ a-la Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush. But The Walkingis to Hounds of Loveas The Blue Nile’s Walk Across The Rooftops is to Laughing Stock’s Spirit of Eden. I love all of the above, but what Siberry and The Blue Nile share in this example is the same kind of epic freedom and reach but a sort of fragility and limitation and ramshackle, almost amateurish quality that make them really humane and relatable to me. The first time I heard this song I confess that my first thought was how much it reminded me of Alena’s old band, Tiny Hazard, who were one of my favorite bands in Brooklyn. I know it seems silly to say it, but somehow this track feels so much less ‘theatrical’ then the same era of Kate Bush…more interior. It feels like a very intimate experience to listen, to the point that I find myself feeling embarrassed for listening in.

Gary Numan—Cry, The Clock Said (Dance, 1981)

I hesitated to use one of my choices on an artist I feel like everybody knows. But I almost never meet anyone who really knows THIS album (and I know because I push it on everyone). If you only know the playful, cold cyber-punk of the first couple of Gary Numan/Tubeway Army records (which are, to be clear, brilliant, and a big influence on me) you really need to hear this album. At its most extreme corners (of which this song is one) I don’t know anything like it. Gary Numan’s great magic trick, the one I endlessly faun over, is how his disaffected, conventionally ugly, robot voice transforms into something heartbreaking and relatable by the time it reaches my heart (especially on Telekon’s piano-based tracks). I know that’s a cheesy thing to say but fuck you, I need sentiment these days. Anyway, nowhere is it more the case than in this songs arrangement. Musically, it feels entirely alien and also entirely familiar, with Japan’s Mick Karn barely there alongside what sound like Casiotone boss nova beats and the most heartbreaking little chiming synth arpeggio that come and go like a kitten that wakes up momentarily from its drug-induced nap. It’s 10 minutes long. I’ve had it on loop for hours without getting tired of it. I’ve wanted to make something like this for a long time now. Some day I’ll have this kind of restraint.

#11 Bonus Track!

Né Ladeiras—Cruz (Corsária, 1988)

I also know next to nothing about this Brazilian album, dedicated to Greta Garbo. I read that it was produced and arranged by Luís Cília ,who wrote a song that became a sort of second anthem for the Portuguese Communist Party. The MIDI harps sitting matter-of-factly on top of those plate-reverbed guiro, clave, bells…I want to live inside the room they build. And it’s a lovely, airy progression that never grows tiresome as it modulates in a drifting-down-the-stream sort of way. The ending lifts so high with barely a shrug’s worth of effort. Gorgeous.

[prussiumscribbles]

Time Is Dancing

SUMMARY: Alfred and Arthur used to travel the world together. Then, something went wrong along the way and they went their separate ways. Two years later, they meet again. (Backpacker/post-breakup AU).

[Read on AO3]

“Kirkland!”

“Jones.”

Alfred Jones’s face broke into a wide grin. “Wow, it’s really you! I mean— wow, ha ha! I haven’t seen you in so long! What are the odds?”

Arthur took a sip from his pint of beer and smiled, trying to calm the wild beating of his heart. The moment he stepped into the rooftop bar, he’d spotted Alfred in the far right corner, chatting with a group of tipsy travellers.

He couldn’t believe his eyes either. Perhaps the darkness and the neon lights were playing tricks on his weary mind. Of all the people he’d bump into while backpacking, it had to be his ex-boyfriend. At a party in Siem Reap, Cambodia, of all places. How bizarre could it get?

Was it really him? If he was, could he still remember Arthur?

Because Arthur remembered him. After all this time, he could never forget that face.

His questions were answered when he saw a glimpse of recognition in his eyes as he looked towards his direction.

Alfred told his friends to go ahead and sat beside Arthur, who came alone.

“How are you? It’s been what— two years?” said Alfred. He couldn’t seem to wipe the grin off his face. “Funny how we meet again, huh? In Cambodia, no less!”

Beside them, a Scottish and an Irish man were mocking each other’s accent. They were surrounded by so many people engaged in countless drunk discussions. The festive vibe was too distracting, making it difficult to speak. Before Arthur could reply, a crowd of laughing 20-somethings sat on their table, and suddenly, the entire bar became part of their conversation.  

“Arthur, didn’t you say you’ve been to Bali?”

“Oh you’ve been to Bali? How was it?”

A series of random questions and answers came in waves and in different directions. I spent six months in Vietnam. Are you travelling alone? I don’t know if I can do that. There was nothing to do but drink and smoke and talk and talk. The entire time, Alfred kept getting drinks and taking back his seat beside Arthur.

He listened whenever Alfred shared something about his travels, something that would explain where he got the colourful wristbands on his arm, or his tan lines and freckles. They finally got the chance to talk to each other when someone brought up Angkor Wat.

“Have you visited the temples yet?” asked Francis, a bearded, long-haired bloke from France.

“Jones had been here a couple of times before,” said Arthur. “Hadn’t you?”

“Yeah,” replied Alfred, slightly caught off guard. “I majored in Archaeology and I’m a major temple nerd, so going here’s a childhood dream come true, ha ha! I just can’t get enough.”

I could study it forever, he told Arthur as he gazed at the monument with reverence a long time ago, when they first visited together.

“How about you, Kirkland?” asked Alfred. “What brings you to temple town?”

“I— er— I just wanted to see if the sunrise tour was worth the hype,” replied Arthur.

The truth was he was on a month-long vacation in Southeast Asia because his boss believed he was working himself to death in the office. He had a few extra days before his flight back to London, and dropping by Siem Reap seemed like a nice idea, not to be nostalgic or anything of course.

He did the sunrise tour and visited the temples he and Alfred missed when they did the sunset tour for Arthur’s birthday. They couldn’t make the most out of it because they got stupid drunk the night before, so they spent the entire day tour hungover. Thinking about it, most of their night outs were followed by those tides of hangovers. Some nights Arthur couldn’t remember the details, but he could vividly remember the feeling.  

“Wait, sorry, aren’t you two travelling together?” asked Gilbert from Germany.

“Oh no, not really,” said Arthur.  

“We met a while back,” said Alfred.

“You seemed to know each other a lot,” said Antonio from Spain.  

Arthur chuckled and downed his whiskey. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

He and Alfred briefly exchanged looks. If it wasn’t dark, he’d think Alfred was blushing.

Someone yelled about a pub crawl on the other side of the table and the entire bar stirred.  

“Arthur! Are you coming?”

Giulia, a bubbly Italian girl with long brown hair and bright amber eyes approached him, beaming widely. They met each other the night before, their first pub crawl together.

“‘Course I am, sweetheart!” He replied, and she jumped and gave him a big hug.

And off they went to the next party with around twenty other people. It was a series of ordering drinks, chatting, smoking, and dancing. Arthur felt like he didn’t leave West London at all, with the crowd and the music and the strobe lights.

Hours flew by without any of them noticing. On the third party, at around quarter past midnight, everyone went wild. Some girls were dancing on table tops as the DJ played their jam. Some boys drank and rapped.

Alfred found him dancing with his own circle and joined them. By the end of the song, he and Alfred were dancing together, not saying a word. They let their bodies sway with the music, never mind if they could really call it dancing or not.

And then Alfred flashed a smile that reached his eyes, and it was like meeting each other all over again.

Looking into his blue, blue eyes, Arthur remembered hot and sweaty nights and the weight of Alfred’s body against his, the morning after.

But their relationship wasn’t all that. Arthur’s chest swelled with realisation.  

It was also tight hugs once homesickness kicked in, ice cream on an unbearably hot day, and contagious laughter as they recounted a terribly embarrassing thing they did.  

They shared intimacy that went beyond getting naked and having sex, something Arthur never had with other lovers. They had intimacy and warmth.

Another hour or two had passed and they found each other again outside the bar. This time, it was only the two of them. In the dark, away from the party. Alone with their feelings and the truth.  

“Are you happy, Arthur?” asked Alfred, leaning against the wall.

Sparks danced across Arthur’s skin upon hearing Alfred call his name.  

“I am,” he replied. He searched his pockets for cigarettes and a lighter.

Alfred nodded to the ground, running his fingers through his dishevelled hair.

“But it was never the same without you,” continued Arthur.

Alfred raised his head in shock. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.  

Arthur blamed the amount of alcohol he consumed for letting his guard down. But maybe it was time to be vulnerably honest. Heaven knows there were only a couple of times he let his guard down with Alfred and let the truth out.

“You know, after we ended, I tried travelling again,” he said, “But after a while, everything was a routine of packing bags, hopping on buses, meeting people, and excessive drinking… It was a never-ending cycle.”

He paused to search Alfred’s face. He was looking at Arthur as if he was trying to answer a difficult riddle.

Arthur gulped, willing the words to come out of his mouth. “Sometimes I’d find myself searching for you in the crowd, then I’d remember we weren’t together anymore, and feel… empty.”

“Arthur, I—“ said Alfred, “I feel the same way too.”

It was Arthur’s turn to be speechless. He fiddled with his cigarette to hide the shaking of his hands.

“There was a point when I wanted to stop because everything reminded me of you and it drove me crazy,” said Alfred. “I got mad at myself for deleting all your contact details because I wished I could see you again.”  

Silence fell upon them. Arthur was breathing heavily, his chest felt like it was being stabbed a thousand times.  

“But it was good while it lasted, wasn’t it?” He said after a while.

“It was,” replied Alfred, his lips curled into a sad half-smile.

At some point in their relationship, they realised travelling as a couple wasn’t always romantic. It wasn’t like what they saw in movies or social media. As time passed, the ugly parts surfaced, mostly coming from their own personal issues, and started destroying them, tearing them apart like the temple ruins they admired so much.

Sitting on the pavement, Arthur was relieved he and Alfred could talk about the past calmly, not raising their voices with anger and blame. People were going back to their hostels, and some tourists were getting ready for the sunrise tour, tuk tuks zooming along the streets.  

He remembered the last time they saw each other. It was in Vietnam, at around dawn, which felt like a lifetime ago. They knew that they were already finished— Arthur was going back to England after deciding they were over— but Alfred asked him to stay even just for a moment. They had a very early breakfast like a normal morning after partying, eating pancakes and drinking black coffee.  

“Would you like to have breakfast with me?” asked Arthur, standing up.

“Sure,” said Alfred. “Though we might have to wait for a while because I don’t think there’s somewhere open at this time.”

Arthur hummed in agreement. “We can walk around a bit. I could use a stretch, my legs are sore.”

They walked in silence, side by side, as the sky turned from black to a deep blue.  

“Where are you going next?” asked Alfred.

“Home,” replied Arthur.

Alfred bit his lip. “Any chance you’ll come and visit me?”

Arthur smiled. “Maybe.”  

“We worked out as a couple when we were travelling. Well, almost,” said Alfred, “Do you think it would have worked if we met at home? Like, if we lived in the same country?”

“Who the hell knows?” asked Arthur.

They laughed together. The next thing Arthur knew, Alfred had pulled him into his arms, and he let him. His lips found Alfred’s and it was like meeting each other all over again.

A/N: The title is from Time Is Dancing by Ben Howard. 

If anyone’s wondering why I disappeared for months, it’s because I moved abroad and am currently traipsing across Indochina (and trying to get my shit together). Peace out.

[darkling-er]

Hope’s Savior ( John Seed x OC ) | Part 8

Summary: Trinity-Hope Johnson finds herself in the middle of a holy war, leading the Resistance, while having a complicated relationship with one of the cult’s herald. And she thought her first case would be easy. Oh how wrong she was!

Pairings: John Seed/Fem!Deputy, John Seed/OC, Earl Whitehorse & OC ( uncle&niece ), Joseph Seed/Fem!Deputy ( kind of ), might add more later

Warnings: mild language, violence, eventually smut, masturbation, oral sex, you know guys the usual, use of drugs ( bliss and other, thanks to Sharky ), fluff ( does that even need a warning? ), manipulation, angst, mention of mental illness ( insomnia, depression ), mention of child abuse ( from John’s side ), torture, I think that’s it? I swear it’s not so bad!

Word Counter: 5141

Notes: Onlyyyyy youuuuuu! ♫♪ If I made up some words, that made sense in my mind but have no real meaning, I’m sorry, haha !!Also warning, light smut ahead!!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |  Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | MASTERPOST for the others

Hope hears screams as a person carries her on their back. At least that’s what she thinks as she can see legs and shoes, being upside down. A red carpet, wooden floor. A man standing at the end of the corridor. Then blackness again, she doesn’t want to wake up, not yet, when it was so peaceful and calm in the blackness of dreamless dreams.

But she wakes up again, she doesn’t know how much time she lost while she was asleep. But the uncomfortable position of sitting in a chair, and her hands being tied to it, making her wrists hurt wakes her up.

She opens her eyes and sees a light, illuminating in the background and right in front of her a man’s silhouette. As her vision starts to clear she opens her eyes wide. Staci! He’s the one tying her to the chair, but why?

“You shouldn’t have come for me. You should have run.” The man whispers to her but she has no words to speak. So Jacob has Staci. But how is that he’s free and not being kept hostage like Hudson. He doesn’t seem like he’s high on the Bliss like the Marshal either. So why doesn’t he run? Maybe there are guns pointed at him, which she can’t see from this position?

He looks tired, huge circles under his eyes, like he didn’t get enough sleep. He looks like he took some punches as well, but other than that he looks fine.

A clicking noise can be heard from her left, a projector’s sound. It’s a presentation, she realizes. Seriously? Did Jacob hunt me just to show me his evil presentation? Staci looks up over her shoulder. Hope can’t turn her head and look over there. Pratt quickly leaves her side and all she can see is a white board... or wall? In the dark it illuminates, coming from the projector which is standing next to her on a shelf of somekind.

A dead deer... Wow...eww... And behind that two words can be seen painted with black paint? Or maybe even dried blood? ‘Only You’. Two other resistance members are tied up, just like her. She wants to call out to Staci, but a man starts speaking. Jacob...

“The world is weak. Soft.” For a second the dead deer disappears, leaving the room black as another image appears: a wolf eating flesh, and Jacob Seed’s silhouette can be seen as he starts walking before the wall.

“We have forgotten what it is to be strong. You know our heroes are used to be gods.” Blackness, then another picture of another wolf eating meat. Jacob Seed is still facing the wall, not turning around yet, to face the deputy or the other two hostages. Staci is standing right next to him, like keeping guard. Why is he not fighting or running? “And now our heroes are godless. Weak, feeble, diseased”

Black and another picture: a weird photo of a deer’s corpse, standing on it’s legs like it’s still alive. Fucking morbid... Jacob turns around, his body covered in the picture as he stands in it’s light.

“We let the weak dictate to the powerful and then we are shocked to find ourselves adrift.” A picture of a white wolf, eating it’s prey. This guy is a furry, or something? Jacob is not looking at her, and honestly she’s happy about that she doesn’t need the attention of yet another Seed.

“But history knows the value of sacrifice. Of culling the herd, so that it stays strong.” He looks at the woman on the left side then the man on the right. “Over and over, the lives of the many have outweighed the lives of the few. This is how we survived... And we’ve forgotten.” An angry wolf looking right into Hope’s eyes. Jacob slowly makes his way toward Hope and tries out her wrists, but the ductape just won’t let go.

“...and now the bill has come due.” As he stands right in front of the deputy, she feels even smaller than usual. The man is a giant and with her sitting he’s even much taller as he normally is. He’s towering over her, but as he grabs her chair and pulls it toward him and he leans low, so their face can meet Hope would rather have him standing up again. Why do they always want to get to close to me? Have the Seeds ever heard of personal space?

“Now, the Collapse is upon us, and this time the lives of the few outweigh the lives of the many.”

His intense stare makes her uncomfortable. His blue eyes reminding her of John’s and Joseph’s ones. Each and every one of them carrying something behind their clear blue eyes. Jacob’s face is covered in scars, rashes even. But that’s not what scares Hope about Jacob.

“And when a nation that’s never known hunger or desperation descends into madness, we’ll be ready.” He smiles at her, not breaking eye contact, not even blinking once as he leans back, and getting something from the desk with the projector on.

“We will cull the herd.” It’s a small wooden box, a music box! He gets it ready to play as he speaks. “We will do what needs to be done.”

He shows it to her, opening the box and immediately her body starts shaking, her vision turning red and she feels like she’s having a seizure. She feels blood trickle down from her nose as the pressure grows inside her body. Filling her head with anger, she’s trying to get free, but it’s impossible. And her view turns to black or did she close her eyes? She can’t tell, as she has a view again.

She’s free from her hair, standing before the table she was sitting next to, a gun on it. The whole world is red, and it reminds her of blood, blood, blood. The building is collapsing and music echoes in her head, an agonisingly slow version of Only You by The Platters.

As she hears a tower bell and the two person stands up from the chairs she just knows what she has to do.

“Call the herd.” Jacob says from somewhere and she grabs the gun from the table and shoot at both of them as they vanish into smoke as the bullet goes right through them.

“Excellent.” Jacob says and she runs through a door, grabbing an SMG which was placed just for her.

She moves forward, building falling apart, broken wooden walls all around. People raise their guns at her and she shoot all of them. With each shot Jacob shouts:

“Train. Hunt. Kill. Sacrifice.”

She shots a man above her on a wall and Jacob talks to her again:

“Good, cull the herd.”

She doesn’t think, she doesn’t feel anything, just pure anger and pride as the eldest of the Seeds praises her moves. Why? Why?! She doesn’t know, as she runs fast opposite how the song slowly plays for her. It’s like she’s in a maze as she goes, she doesn’t even know where, but she rushes forward. ‘Kill, kill, kill!’ Jacob’s shouts can be heard and she just does that. Killing everyone who even stands close to her.

She picks up an AR-C as she reaches a yard. A gate of metal saying ‘St. Francis Veterans Center’ in front of her, as she shoots. It’s so surreal, object floating in the air, unmoving like they are hanged by strings. But she doesn’t think, she runs through the front door into the building, killing a man runing towards her.

“Yes, sacrifice the weak.”

She kils the man standing on top of the walls as she climbs. She has to ignore the fire below, get away from it. Fire is bad, fire is bad! Don’t be weak, be strong!

There’s a slide coming up and she takes it as the music suddenly plays faster, and the clock that has been ticking while she ran stops. And she doesn’t land as the blackness surrounds her.

When she opens her eyes, she’s still in that chair, tied to it, as she lays with it on the floor. Dead bodies around her, and her vision is blurry. Her mouth feels dry and Hope feels like she can’t move. There’s still blood under her nose, dried to her face, making her smell the irony scent of blood.

The music still plays, somewhere from the room. Am I dead? She thinks, and it hurts to think. She can still hear Jacob’s commands in her head: ‘Train, hunt, kill, sacrifice’. And for some reason she feels like she should be doing exactly that.

The Deputy sees movements and for a second she thinks Jacob is back, to call her weak. But she hears an unknown voice of a man.

“What a mess. Wheaty, check those chairs.”

“Jesus, the smell...” Another voice speaks and she wants to call out to them but her throat hurts like she swallowed knives. Her vision at least becomes clear as she sees a bearded man. Oh, god, is he a peggie?

“Been stewin’ in their own filth for days...” For days?! “Walker, get some windows open!”

A young man comes to her view, so called Wheaty if she heard it right. A third voice replies, so that must be the guy called Walker:

“Y-y-y-yessir!”

“Someone shut that music off!” The man who has the beard and has been commanding the other seems to be their boss, or leader. Thank God, yes! Turn it off! She thinks and her head gets a lot clearer as the music stops, no more Jacob’s praises or commands.

Wheaty crouches down to the body next to her, checking the clearly dead man’s pulse. The dead guy’s eyes and nose has been bleeding. Just like hers, but she’s still alive.

“Christ, it’s Sully. When did they get him?” The young boy says and he stands up, annoyed. “Why are we even bothering with this? They’re all dead.” No, no! I’m not dead! She wants to scream, but she can’t even blink, feeling paralised.

“Check ‘em anyways.” The leader says and she’s thankful for his words. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

The boy still seems annoyed by his job as he comments:

“Why am I always stuck on corpse duty?”

He turns her chair and she groans out at the sudden pain in her head as she’s being moved. The boy facing her gets so scared he drops her, causing even more pain.

“HOLY SHIT!” Wheaty lands on his ass, being so startled by Hope not being as dead as he thought.

“What?” The boss turns to him and comes closer, as Wheaty says an ‘oh fuck’ as well.

The boss looks down at Hope as she finally blinks, her eyes hurting as she does so.

“Live one!” He quickly crouches next to her. “Walker! Go get the truck!”

“Y-y-y-y-yessir!” The man stutters, seemingly only to know one sentence.

Wheaty comes into view and if Hope had any energy left she would find this situation actually funny, feeling like they’re in a comedy movie:

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry...” The boss pushes him away.

They grab Hope and the leader’s voice is nice and smooth, but still low and it makes her feel comfort.

“Gimme a hand, kid.”

She groans again as they set her chair, so she’s sitting in it. They face each other and Hope wants to say thanks, but only manages a low and painful moan out.

The leader gets out a knife with the intention to free her, but Wheaty looks at the man:

“Eli..is this...?”

“Yep.” The man says simply as he frees Hope from the tapes.

“What the fuck is the Deputy doing here?” Oh, look, I’m famous. How nice...

“Jacob took a shine to ‘er same as us.”

She wants to laugh at that but it turns into a cough as she does. I didn’t drink for days... Yeah, I can feel it...

“You’re gonna be okay, Hero. Whitetail’s gotcha now.” The Whitetails! Oh thank God!

They help her to her feet and start to walk, well more likely drag her body with them. She feels like going back to sleep again, feeling dizzy from the exhaustion.

“We’re bringing her back to the Wolf’s Den?” Wheaty asks.

“Where else?” The leader asks back. I like him, I always like people who save my life, defying the others.

“Tammy is not going to like this...” Well, I’m sorry, but Tammy has to bear with me until I can get up to my feet again.

Their voices become blurry as she falls into sleep again.

“Don’t worry about Tammy. She’ll be fine.”

Hope feels a soft surface under her and it feels so comfortable, her mind not wanting to get up soon. But as she hears voices she opens her eyes. Wheaty comes into view, a boy who can’t be older than her. He gently grabs her neck from behind, pulling her head up as he places a water bottle to her lips.

“Take it easy, you’re OK. Need you to drink this.”

Hope greedily swallows the water, some of it trickling down her face, getting her shirt wet. She had been changed into new clothes, a man’s oversized sweater, no jeans. She should feel ashamed, knowing that someone had to get her clothes off, but right now she doesn’t care.

Hope coughes as her throat becomes soft and slimy again, not feeling like a desert anymore. A woman comes into the room, looking down at her laying form and she turns to the man, the leader who brought her here.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Oh, I have a feeling this is Tammy.

The man is so calm it wants to make Hope laugh. Like a teacher, trying to get his students behaving without screaming at them.

“Now hold on. Wheaty and I agreed--”

“Oh you agreed?!” The woman turns to the kid standing next to Hope.

Wheaty holds up his arms, defending himself from the accusation.

“Woah, woah woah! I was at best an impartial observer.”

Tammy looks and points at Hope:

“This is stupid and this is dangerous.”

Hope silently comments but her voice is ragged and nobody seems to hear her:

“I can hear you, you know?”

The woman continues with her anger:

“You both know better!”

The long bearded man approaches her and he still sounds so calm:

“What was I supposed to do?”

The woman raises her arms, like it’s so damn clear what they were supposed to do with Hope.

“Leave her to die.” Wow, nice, thanks...

The man scoffs, faking out a laugh and looking down at Hope apologisingly:

“Tammy...”

“They’ve been in that room for God knows how long. I’ve seen what it does to people. You haven’t. You can’t trust this one.”

The man turns away from the junior deputy lying on the couch and turns to the all-too-angry woman:

“That’s what everyone said about you! But luckily, I didn’t listen.” Only now he starts raising his voice. “This is not up for discussion. We need her. That’s all there is to it. Understand?”

She makes a grimace and looks down at Hope, like she wants to kill her right here right now. Then she leaves the room. Wheaty comments:

“You’re right. She took that real well.”

“Out.” He doesn’t even turn his head away from the Deputy as he orders the young man out of there.

As he leaves Hope can hear him comment under his nose:

“I didn’t even do anything...”

The young girl smiles at that, a gesture that makes her face hurt a bit, but doesn’t make any painful sounds.

Eli walks around the couch right next to her, placing his hand on her leg and only know she feels a bit too exposed.

“I meant what I said, we need you. Let’s get you some rest.”

He helps her lay her head back down to the pillow and though she wants to stay awake she quickly falls asleep.

Hope wakes up at the sound of a radio. Music is playing, not the type she usually listens too, and it’s loud enough to shake her out of her continues dreamless dream. She moves around the couch and she puts her naked legs on the rug. She sits there for a while, getting ready to stand up on her legs,

A man is watching her, reading a book, looking at her naked thighs and she tries to pull the sweater down as much as she can. Yeah, I need pants ASAP.

She doesn’t feel cold that much, and her aching body is much less exhausted as before. She doesn’t have dried blood all over her face either. They took care of her, that’s for sure.

“Oh, shit y-y-y-you’re up. Eli needs a word with y-y-you.” The man says and Hope remembers his stutter from before, when the whitetails found her.

“Where should I go?” She asks nicely and smiles at the man.

“Head d-d-down the hall. Eli’s waitin’ for y-y-y-ou there.” He points to a direction and she nods and thanks him with a soft smile.

She takes some turns in the bunker, she figured it’s a bunker, since it looks a lot like Dutch’s. Then she sees a whole bunch of monitors, just like Dutch’s. And there it is the man, the one who saved her from that filthy place. He looks up at her from his map and smiles:

“There you are. Been tryin’ to track you down, Deputy. Dutch speaks highly. Look I get right to it. I know what you did down south. You got the Father thinkin’ twice now, and that’s good for us. We’re bleeding bodies up here, no two ways about it. I don’t know if we’ll be able to hold out more than a week at this rate. Times are desperate to say the least. I’m trying to get some footholds back, so I sent a handful of whitetails out to sabotage the Visitor Center. The cult’s been using it as a depot for that Bliss shit... But our guys walked right into a fucking trap. They’ve been taken hostage and we’re up against the clock. If I just send another group in there, we risk losing everything... but you! You’re something that cult ain’t expecting. You’re the only one I got around here who can handle this, Dep... only one I trust to handle this. I’m countin’ on you.”

The man says and Hope’s head start to feel heavy as she tries to understand him and she raises her hands, stopping the man from further speaking:

“Okay, slow down a bit. Look I...” She stands there awkwardly looking at the man’s confused eyes. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. But I don’t even know your name and you’re saying that you can only trust me on this?”

She feels like an asshole, but her veins are filled with this odd feeling, a rage, hiding behind her small form. Hope doesn’t even know why she’s angry, and she tries to hide it as much as she can. This man did save her life after all.

“Oh, I’m... I’m sorry.. Name’s Eli, Eli Palmer.” The man says, clearly feeling just as awkward as the young girl.

“So Eli... Umm... you have any pants that I could borrow. Can’t do much of anything if I’m not dressed like I’m going outside.”

He looks at her naked legs, just realizing she’s without pants or shoes and turns to Wheaty:

“Hey, Wheaty, get some pants and shoes from the shop, will ya?” He says and the boy goes down the corridor, dissappearing. “I’m... really sorry about that.”

She nods, trying to make this scene less awkward as it already is.

“Didn’t you guys by any chance found my backpack? Or my radio? Or any of my weapons?” She asks, though she doesn’t dare to keep her hopes up.

Eli turns around and grabs a bag, filled with her stuff:

“Actually, we did, here ya go.”

After getting some clothes from the whitetails and getting her backpack on her back, her pistol in her holster and the rifle around her shoulder she stands before Eli. Hope feels much less exposed now.

“Look. I don’t know if people have been looking for me or not. And I know you need help, and I will help, that’s a promise, but...” She feels ashamed of what she says next. “... I need some time away from Jacob right now.”

Eli does seem dissappointed, but nods kindly.

“I get it, kid. I’m just desperate, you know? And you’re like the Hero of Hope County at the moment, I hoped you could help out.”

She feels bad about this and gets her map out of her pack and folds it out on Eli’s desk.

“Look, point me to the place, and I will look into it, okay? I’ll even bring some help, people who I trust and are good at what they’re doing. I am very grateful for what you did for me, I am. And I want to repay you by helping out, but right now... I’ll head back to the Valley, check out on some friends. I’ll be back and take care the peggies for you.”

Eli nods and marks the place on her map. She gets some angry looks by Tammy as she leaves and a kind smile from Wheaty. Well, she can’t be friends with everyone, right?

She uses one of the choppers from outside the Wolf’s Den to reach the Valley, it’s night time again and only now, looking at the constellations and the moon realizes how long she had been out.

“Hey, old man. I hope you’re not sleeping yet.” She says through her speaker, while flying over Dutch’s island.

“I never sleep, kid. Heard from Eli, that they got you out of Jacob Seed’s grasp. You’re gonna stay there, help out?”

The raven haird girl sighes and replies:

“No, I’m heading back to John’s region. I still have some distress calls from there. I want to check on the church, and than the airstrip at the Rye’s.”

Dutch murmurs something and she’s happy she didn’t catch what he just said.

“Okay, kid. It’s your call. Just don’t forget to help out in the mountains as well. I know Jacob Seed might look scary for ya. But we still have to fight him.”

And there goes Hope’s calm night:

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Dutch sighes and tries to save the conversation:

“All I’m sayin’ is that you had a meetin’ with Jacob and now you’re running back to the Valley and--”

“I’m running back to the Valley?!” She raises her voice and almost losts control over the chopper in her anger.

“Look... I’m just sayin’ the facts, no need to get angry at me for being honest.”

“For being honest?! Who the hell says where I should help out? You weren’t there you don’t know what he did to me!”

There’s a moment of silence and for some reason she feels like she shouldn’t be telling about the Platters’ song to Dutch, or to anyone for the record.

“Why, what did he do to you?” He asks suspiciously.

“Forget it Dutch, I’m tired, I want to land my chopper safely and help out at the Valley. I will go back to the mountains once I gother a little team to help me out. I’m only one girl, not an entire army...Hope out.”

She turns off her radio and looks down at the hills of the valley. The ‘YES’ say illuminating in the night, she has a new idea as she lands near the bottom of the sign.

She gets out of the chopper, once landed properly and walks up to the Hollywood styled monument.

She sits down at the bottom of the ‘Y’ and looks down at the valley. From up here it’s so peaceful, so calm. I wonder how cool Hope County was before the cult...

There are lights appearing in the distane, near the airstrips and she first thinks maybe someone blowed up a bunch of silos, but as she looks into her binoculars she sees fireworks.

There’s a smile appearing on her face as she looks at them. Who is partying right now? It has to be Resistance, right?

She picks up her radio and dials Pastor Jerome to get some information on this.

“Hey, Jerome? Who is helding a party tonight? I see fireworks in the sky.” Her voice is calm, cheerful.

A moment passes and she hopes she didn’t wake up the man. An unpleasent answer comes from his end, clearly not happy about the cause of celebration.

“John Seed is having a birthday party tonight.”

Hope can’t contain her laugh as she asks:

“For who?”

The Pastor sighs:

“For himself...”

Hope laughs and she can’t believe that days ago she was being held captive by Jacob Seed and now the youngest of the brothers is having a party for his birthday. It’s just too surreal and funny.

“Oh wow, did you buy him something?” She jokes and the Pastor chuckles at that.

“I’m pretty sure he has everything he wants, Deputy. Good to have you back in the Valley, there are still some folks out here needing help... I heard about Jacob Seed. If you need to just talk to someone, you can always come to me.”

It warms her heart, and she smiles softly.

“Thanks. I want to check on Boomer too. Did he behave while I was gone?”

The Pastor chuckles, no longer the dissappointment for the Seeds in his voice:

“He did try to eat my bible once. But he has been acting good. He misses you, I think. He perked up his head and started wagging his tail as he heard your voice now.”

Hope imagines the dog trying to eat Pastor Jerome’s Bible and she’s happy someone is not acting weird around her, asking her to do this or do that. Just having a nice and normal conversation.

“I’ll be sure to make a visit to Fall’s End tomorrow.”

“Alright, take care, Deputy.”

They end the radio call and Hope continues to watch the fireworks go on for a while. John Seed being so fucking extra, as always. She smiles to herself, shaking her head. It’s weird thinking about how a man like him had to be born once, was probably a child, just acting normal. Makes one wonder how they ended up being like this...

She lays down onto her back, looking up at the stars on the night sky. Remembering most of their names. She memorised them all, when she was a kid. Her parents painted her room’s ceiling like the night sky. She misses them, even though she never actually met them.

Her heart aches and she tries to think about something else, and she ends up thinking about the Cleansing. How she actually thought in her Bliss drugged state that she was a star. How John Seed’s eyes seemed to be glowing, beautiful blue amongst the white dots in front of her...

She feels an itch in her body, one that she haven’t felt since she got into this holy war. She slides her hand down her body, between her legs as she moans out into the night, only the crickets knowing what she’s up to. She teases herself through the fabric of her jeans and after some minutes like this she slips her had into her jeans and she touches her clit, crying out in pleasure.

 And then her radio crackles to life, like God knew what she is doing and wants to stop her:

“Deputy, I heard you came back to the Valley. How delightful.” John Seed’s voice is cheery as always, like he knows when he can annoy Hope.

She doesn’t answer, the heat in her loin growing and she just wants to have some private moments to herself, without listening to John Seed, but God, that man loves his voice more than anything.

“I was wondering about one of our conversation just now. Do you remember, what I said to you, Deputy?” His voice sounds so smug, she can almost imagine the smirk on his face.

She groans out, letting her hand find it’s way out of her jeans and underwear. With an annoyed voice she click down the button on her radio to talk:

“No?” She keeps it short, because her breathing was just becoming faster when the man dared to intterupt her, so she doesn’t want to give herself away.

“Oh, my dear. I’m sure you remember. You know what, I will give you a moment to think. Get the blood back to your pretty little head...”

She looks confused and angry at her radio, not wanting to play John’s games right now. Then his words hit her, and her heart stops beating for a moment. ‘I have cameras everywhere, Deputy...’ he said a while back. Oh my god...

She quickly looks around her surroundings, her face getting red from the embarrasment if the man meant what she thinks he meant by that comment. His next words comfirming her fear:

“You know, Deputy... Lust is a sin.” With a muffled ‘oh my god’ she buries her face in her hands.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, I wasn’t putting up a show for you.” She replies to him, trying to save the situation, but she’s deep in it now.

“Are you sure?” Comes the teasing tone of the Baptist. “And here I thought it was your birthday gift for me.”

If she wasn’t flushed already, she sure as hell is now. And without even wanting to think about it, how it might be a gift for him, how he might mimiced her movements, touching himself at the sight of her... NO! Stop thinking about that! But the thought sends a wave of pleasure between her folds.

“Oh, no!” She cringes at herself and him. “In your dreams, Seed!”

She tries to keep her cool, but what he says next sends her over the edge.

“If this was my dream, you would be right here with me, beneath me.”

She did notice something was off in his voice, she thought it’s only exhaustion or something, but now she thinks it might be from something else. She gulps as she asks:

“Are you high right now?”

A chuckle comes from the other end and it sends a pulse into her clit, begging to be touched.

“Maybe... So what do you say? Care to pay me a visit?”

This is crazy. He’s crazy, this whole situation is crazy. But the most crazy thing is, that she actually stops thinking about his offer.

A/N: ehehehehe *evil laugh*

Tags: @onl-you

[shahedam]

Queen of the South episode 8 & my “Godfather” feels

Ok so I rewatched it today....Some interesting things.  I have watched a lot of gangster movies/tv shows and one of my favorite gangster movies of all time is Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather.  In no particular order.  

1.  James is always prepared. He had a fire extinguisher y’all.  He is a very intelligent man.  But James the next time you are trying to put out a fire you aim at the base of the fire.  I loved that he is a mature guy.  He showed us that a man can be a gangster and a gentle man.  My heart almost burst when he had the finger on the trigger and she said no, we will kill them all when the time is right.  Who the hell does the sound track the music just has me in a mood.  Like yes.  For James he gives me Young Vito Corleone (DeNiro) feels.  

2.  Sherriff Mayo is a sad man.  Remember his conversation with Teresa.  He was beaten and bullied so much that it changed him into a sadist psycho.  

3.  Pecas is not a bad guy.  He is a boss.  He is the biggest narco in La Comision.  He is trying to protect his spot.  He sided with Boaz who disappeared so that connection to the Colombians went to Camilla so now he is working with Camilla who is supplying him with coke.  He never wanted Teresa in Arizona and he tells her that at the meeting.  Teresa wants the throne so she is going to have to get on some murder mami shit so it is what it is.  

4.  Taza.  I like Taza.  He seems like a good dude.  He wants to build schools and hospitals.  Too bad they can’t get the casino up and running.  Vegas is like 4/5 hours away from Phoenix so I don’t know why they can’t get it poppin but whatever.  Those cars were awesome.  I liked that him and Pote led them down Death Highway.  

5.  Pote.  Pote. Pote, if that is not a ride or die I don’t know what he is.  He is a soldado.  He is loyalty at its finest.  I love Pote.  Teresa and Pote have both been through a lot together.  The bond that they have is awesome.  At first when I watched the episode I was like wait a second Pote you done gave the green light and then the red light but as I watched it again and from feedback from other QOTS Jeresa fans, I realize that Pote was giving her his blessing. I see now that he needed to know what was up because it is important.  I also realized that he has never witnessed how the two of them get down for real.  I think in Chicago he saw it a little but he was kinda giving them the side eye but Guero was there...Pote was at the crib in the kitchen in Dallas mostly when they was on their day to day Bonnie and Clyde thing and when they bounced to Malta James wasn’t with them.  He doesn’t know that before the sex these two were always risking their lives for each other?*%!  He would die for you was what Teresa needed to hear just like James needed to hear that she didn’t regret sleeping with him.  He gives me Clemenza feels...

6.  Teresa.  I am a little torn about how I felt about Teresa.  She showed her grown ass woman side, sweetly checking both Pote and James for locking her in the cellar.  But, I didn’t like that she laid out the plan at the reservation after so many of them were against her plans which ultimately led to one of the tribe losing their life because he snitched the whole damn plan, she could have just left it at the I just want to let y’all know that we just gonna get this money and that’s all this is, we appreciate y’all help.  Ok Taza, back to what you were saying.  Feel me.  She up there talking about transporting coke, just doing too much.  Then ok just 48 hours prior Pecas sent a sicario to your place of business, said sicario killed your delivery driver on your property, you carve his tattoo from his arm and Fed Ex the skin tag to Pecas with a dove (I peeped you jumping Pecas when that bird flew out the box), that wasn’t a peace offering that was a message, you didn’t stop there you even put a little note up in there.  So fast forward to 48 hours from that delivery time stamp you actually sent your people over to negotiate some El Santo coke, I wasn’t surprised that he killed Tonto (RIP Tonto fly with the other silent sicarios, I don’t think I ever heard him talk except for when he busted Teresa in the mouth with the gun or was that The Charger.  My bad I digress)  Anyway.  Teresa you shouldn’t have sent them to do that.  Lil T need to be in the ICU right now, no offense Taza.  I feel for that young girl.  When James said she knew the risk I felt like I felt when he asked Teresa did you see what Batman hit you with I need to get me one of those.  Too soon babe.  Teresa was dead ass wrong for doing that I could see if it had been a couple of weeks ok maybe after Pecas got him some sweets (he love to eat) but nope that young girl might die and if she doesnt she has a Return to Sender tattoo on her back and that sucks.  Uh duh.  Michael Corleone feels.  Everything from the tragic death of her first love to her rise to become the Queen.

7.  Camilla.  I just have to give a hand clap to who ever dresses Camilla because I love her style.  Classy and always on point.  Loved that black kimono.  But forget all that jumping right into it, Camilla knows who the General is, but allowing him to record her that was sloppy.  Also the whole conversation with Pecas had me nodding my head because she wants her money.  She basically told him bitch better have my money.  Isabella was lying then coming and trying to ask for help but I thought you said that you ain’t seen Kique, he wasn’t taking your calls (meanwhile you in dusty ass garages running up on Kique talking about mi amour, go sit yo fast ass down somewhere don’t you got some homework to do.  Damn Isabella gets on my nerves).  I think that they should have just killed both the young lovers and put us out of our misery that is Isabella.  Kique was sad but, damn it, you sitting in a car in a dark ass garage and you didn’t have enough sense to have the doors locked I mean to me you was asking for it.  So stupid.  Then if General Cortez wasn’t going to kill you hell you gave him the idea telling him that he could kill you but that will not take your love away from Isabella, you out here giving the killer ideas...and then what took the entire cake was you bringing up Camilla playing him out.  Cortez is a horrible person and a straight pedophile.  I don’t like him.  He was always checking Isabella out.  Remember when Epifanio had to tell him to chill talking about her at her party.  While I might not like Camilla’s ways she is still a boss.  She still runs the south and she is about to be dealing with her crazy ass daughter who I wish Manuel son had killed but then Teresa wouldn’t have gotten the 10 million from Camilla and she wouldn’t have been able to pay El Santo and the little angel would have came back with Thanos to kill Teresa ass, that’s not his name but he was scary.  I’m excited to see how she gets out of this thing with Cortez and Isabella because he has definitely played his hands since he didn’t kill Isabella when he showed her Kique’s body.  Camilla gives me Don Vito Corleone (Brando) feels, the end is near for her but she is still running everything.

8.  King George.  Ok I love James.  I love Pote.  I like Teresa (see above).  But like I really ride for George, he is like all your day 1s he just has your back.  Again, Teresa is being extra sloppy.  You start a war and you got dough.  You need to tighten up on security for your whole squad that’s what a boss does.  Nobody ran up on none of them when they was with Camilla because like Camilla said it’s her job (The boss) to keep them safe.  Teresa killed the governor of Sinaloa and knew it was gonna be retaliation, stole Rocco’s girls, put a hit on someone Sherriff Mayo who survived said hit and all I see is that same little ass squad (no offense James and Pote) but there has to be some number that you can call and get you some killers, like the Continental Hotel or something for the cartels...George and Bilal should have had a squad with them not no whack ass phone call talking about be safe.  Now I know George got his own thing going on but I’m just saying they snatched him.  I guess that’s the friend in the cage.  He’s my Santino “Sonny” Corleone feels.  That is not a parallel or foreshadow of how I believe that King George’s character will play out on the series.  Because I loved Sonny’s character like I love George.  He is a mess but a beautiful mess.  Remember when George shot his shot at Teresa...You can be my Pocahontas or I can be your Pocahontas...I would make you my queen if Rico Suave didn’t already have dibs.  He called James Ken Kardashian.  I can’t.  I am hoping George AND Bilal survive...Until next time kiddos.  Bless

[everythingmedia]

Memes in Digital Culture

Memes are a language—specifically a language of the internet. Over the years, I think memes have changed from having a good laugh to using memes as a way of describing your personality or seeking validation that others share the same beliefs/ideas.

Limor Shifman in Memes in Digital Culture compares memes to genes by referencing biologist Richard Dawkins’s analogy of memes being spread person to person through replication or imitation. Similarly, to genes, memes undergo changes, competition, selection, and retention. Memes fight for the attention of users—only the strongest survive. By strongest, I mean the ones who match the sociocultural environment of where the meme originated. The memes cannot keep up with the ever-changing environments and cultural values, go extinct (not viral).

Memetics

The term memetics as described by scholars Francis Heylighen and Klaas Chielens is “the theoretical and empirical science that studies the replication, spread and evolution of memes”—during the 1990’s, many scientists from all fields began to take interest in the study and research of memetics.

There are two controversies surrounding memetics: the “biological analogies” and “who’s the boss.”

“Biological analogies” relates to the idea that there is a strong correlation between memes to both viruses and genes. It takes after the epidemiology model, which suggests there is a cultural equivalence between memes and flu bacilli that is transferred to hosts from sneezes. Looking through the lens of internet culture, you can compare this metaphor to how visible to content is when it goes viral. Henry Jenkins compares this ‘infection’ as a “meaningless media “snacks” that infect their minds.” The second biological metaphor about for memes, taken from Dawkins, is a model called evolutionary genetics. Often seen as a metaphor taken too far, some compare the cultural relevance of memes to other evolutionary concepts such as: genotype, phenotype, transcription, and code. The is model is criticized for the reason that memes behave differently from genes-therefore, we should not reduce culture to biology as it can simplify the complexity of human behaviors.

“Who’s the boss” looks into the idea of human influence in the process of meme diffusion. Contrary to other scholars, Shifman suggests that the undermining of human agency is to the interpretation of memes—not to the concept of the meme itself. Scholar, Rosaria Conte notes that we must look at people as the actors of cultural transmission, not as vectors during this process. Conte states that the dissemination of memes is based on 3 agents with decision making powers: social norms, perceptions, and preferences.

Digitalization of memes

According to Dawkins, memes that successfully spread are composed of three properties that are all enhanced by the internet:

Copy fidelity- it’s accuracy in communication through other medias.

Fecundity- the number of copies in a given timeframe.

Longevity- How long the meme is able to maintain its popularity

Overtime, the general idea of a meme has transitioned into a concept that best reflects some of the fundamental aspects of the internet. Shifman says that Dawkins couldn’t have possibly imagined this back in 1976.

Internet memes and Web 2.0 share three main attributes:

1. A steady dispersion between individuals to society. Although memes spread on a micro-level, they play a huge part in shaping sociocultural values and behaviors. What starts out as a meme being shared person to person, can have a great effect on the behaviors and attitudes of society.

2. Reproduction of memes through copying and imitation. Memes are constantly changing their style and content—this is called repackaging mechanisms. There are two repackaging mechanisms of memes on the internet: mimicry and remix.

Mimicry is the recreation of other texts through imitation.

Remixing is the process of manipulating the original image by using technology-based manipulated such as, Photoshop or adding a new soundtrack.

3. Go through a process of competition and selection.

Hypermemetic logic

Shifman defines hypermemetic logic as the process of sharing, imitating, remixing, and using tools to measure its popularity as a huge tool of participatory culture. “Hyper” isn’t just limited to how memes are spread easily as ever before, but also its evolution in both the digital sphere and non-digital world. Shifman states that “hypermemetic” offers a depiction of a culture where memes have a multidimensional presence—both online and in the real world, we can use memes as a form of expression or purpose.

Why do people make memes?

Shifman states there are three reason for what drives people to re-create videos and images:

1. “Attention economy”-In the attention economy, it's not important that value of information, but instead, the focus is on the amount of attention that people pay to it.

2. Social logic of participation or “networked individualism”- This is the idea that there is an increase of individualization where we are expected to create our own sense of identity and image, to further divulge a sense of “selves.” Simultaneously, individuals contribute to the shaping of social networks which demonstrates the human desire of communality.

3. Cultural and aesthetic logic of participation

Most recently, there as been a dramatic shift in meme culture with the rise of social media platform TikTok. The virality of memes is no longer solely restricted to image or video formats, but TikTok has now inverted the traditional meme format—focusing on memes that incorporate music. Each user is able to add their own take on the 5-15 second song, giving each TikTok its own unique take on the meme. Whether it’s a personal story, a funny memory, or even a strange fact—there may even be thousands of videos with the same sound—TikTok has even transformed the way we share stories, even if it is your most cringe-worthy moments.

I think TikTok has paved a way for memes to be incorporated in our daily life without the use of images or videos. I always hear people on the train scrolling through TikTok. Most recently, I heard the "Oh No" trend, where people share their "Oh no" moments. I will never know what video that person watched, but I think of the funny videos that I have seen with the same sound. It's also important to mention that the person doesn't need to have TikTok to see the videos. Often, viral TikTok's are spread across all platforms that generate more engagement of users by the use of likes, comments, and shares.

[onlyhalfthestory]

So I decided to go through the Just Like You video and try to find all the articles. As you can see the articles all come from different newspapers and while most are very recent, some are from a couple of years ago! This makes me think that there’s no way they are all just random articles because it really makes no sense to have articles from different newspapers and years. I havent made it all the way through the video yet, but this is what I have so far!

Owners put off by fear of being conned (Mark Souster, The Times UK, Oct. 10, 2017)

“Racing’s governing body plans to conduct a review of the buying and selling of racehorses in Britain...”

Tom Paley Obituary: Pioneer of the American folk revival renowned for his duets with Woody Guthrie and running into trouble with the McCarthyites (no author??, The Times Uk, Oct. 10, 2017)

“In the late 1950′s Tom Paley used to play around New York as a duo with Woody Guthrie...”

Note: Why is the following quote crossed out in the lyric video?

“He was likened to Puck, ‘quintessentially witty, a master teller of jokes’“

Top 10 Croatia Getaways: Beautiful country which genuinely has something for everyone (Steve Myall, The Mirror Uk, April 18, 2015)

“Eight day tour from  £1,149 pp with flights from London and half-board accommodation in May, June, or September...”

Note: this does not match the newspaper clipping in the video exactly.

You aint heard nothing yet: the moment Al Jolson sounded the birth of the talkies (Michael Freedland, The Guardian, Oct. 8, 2017)

“The other big studios were forced to convert their silent movies to sound...”

Note: in the lyric video it scrolls down so you can read more of the article. Why? No other article in the video does this.

We’re open to fracking, says National Trust boss (Ben Webster, The Times UK, Oct. 24, 2013)

“The National Trust is prepared to consider fracking on its land but has all but ruled out wind farms...”

Sally Potter: ‘There’s nothing like hearing a whole place vibrate with laughter’ (Guy Lodge, The Guardian, Oct. 8, 2017)

“She’s far from the only one. I recall something the actress Marianne Jean-Baptiste said about diversity in the industry...”

Note: this whole paragraph seems very relevant to Louis. Also interesting is we can see a part of the following quote in the lyric video (the words pride and discriminatory are visible):

“Potter wears her outsider status with pride, well equipped to handle the discriminatory pinch still affecting women in the film industry”

(Turns out we can see the entire quote later on in the video)

Bonus: the article also mentions that Potter made a film which Cillian Murphy acted in (ahem, Dunkirk)

Tories know they need a new leader but have no idea how to get one  (Toby Helm and Michael Savage, The Guardian, Oct. 7, 2017)

“Cabinet ministers offloaded their frustrations at every opportunity...”

Blade Runner 2049 review-a future classic (Mark Kermode, The Guardian, Oct. 8, 2017)

“The sights are staggering, yet the real triumphs of Blade Runner 2049 are beautifully low-key...”

Note: the article mentions that Hans Zimmer composed the score of the movie (Dunkirk, anyone?)

From social contracts to human rights: 10 of the greatest political founding works (Robin McWiliam, The Guardian, Oct. 8, 2017)

“Paine opposed the hereditary principle in government and argued that people were right to oppose despotism...”

Note: the clipping we see in the video is talking about Thomas Paine’s book Rights of Man (1791)

Eight easiest ways to treat your eczema including switching to non-bio, limiting showers to 15 minutes and drinking oolong tea (Kim Jones, The Mirror, Oct. 9, 2017)

“Chemicals in washing powders can irritate skin and cause a flare-up...”

Note: article mentions that Leeds University is conducting research on eczema (remember leeds fest!!!)

Hollywood dinosaurs have had their day (Hugo Rifkind, The Australian, Oct. 10, 2017)

“If I looked like the Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein...”

Note: this article appears several times in the lyric video

Scrambled Heads: the book teaching children not to be scared of mental health (Daisy Wyatt, iNews, Oct. 10, 2017)

‘Mental health can be a difficult subject to speak with adults about, let alone children...”

Note: the article has a subheading called ‘Appearance vs Reality’ and its also been pointed out that this article appears in the video during the line “yeah, i feel the same as you do”

Jurgen Klopp must learn from Liverpool history - great DEFENCE wins you titles (Stan Collymore, The Mirror, Oct. 9, 2017)

“Seventy-two to be precise-30 more than Andrew Cole and Eric Cantona managed for Manchester United...”

Colin Kaepernick: From one man kneeling to a movement dividing a country (Patrick Jennings, BBC, Oct. 11, 2017)

“The former San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick first protested...”

Nile Rodgers had chilling premonition two days before George Michael’s death, but admits it was ‘too emotional’ to share (Francis Kindon, Jessica Gibb, and Ashleigh Rainbird, The Mirror, Oct. 17, 2017)

“George channeled his heartache into an ongoing legal battle with his record label, Sony..”

Note: the article talks about George Michael’s struggles with his record label who were not promoting his music properly and also mentions the death of his mother from cancer. (Also lots of RBB connnections to George Michael)

[imaginationisallawomanhas]

A Reign On My Night

“Francis!?”

I was shocked. Flabbergasted. If that was even appropriate.

There he stood, with a new haircut and a fitted suit. Sounds like I'm describing the Doctor, I know. Can't really help it though can I? It felt like time slowed down, looking at him in the lobby of the office. I stood there like fish out of water, a deer in the headlights, a doe-eyed little idiot.

He looked at me with surprise, began to take a step towards me but was halted by my boss, Steve.

"Hello chap! you must be Leith Callahan!" Steve exclaimed with a hearty laugh, patting him on the back.

Quickly, he turned around, gained his composure and began conversing with Steve.

I couldn't hear anything, my mind was just not processing anything. I slowly backed away and went into the studio. I could hear some scuffling behind me to see my colleagues follow me in. one came to my side the other closed the door so no one could hear us.

"That's him isn't in?!" Nia asked excitedly.

"Did you know he was gonna be here?" Sammy asked.

They had a faint idea as to who he was, but even they didn't know exactly what happened. "Uh, yeah that's him." I continued more to myself this time. "But what the hell was he doing here? He would have mentioned he was moving here wouldn't he, unless he didn't want me to know. But that makes no sense either. What the hell is going on?!?!?!"

"Ayla, what’s wrong?" Nia asked, here eyebrows scrunching up.

"It's just- I mean- I didn't" I took a deep breath and composed myself. "I don't know what he's doing here but we should probably get back to work before they realise that we're gossiping instead of being at our desks." I smiled at them.

Nodding, they went back out to their desks. I could faintly hear Steve introducing Leith to the rest of the staff. I composed myself, and went back to fiddling with the Pinterest Page open on my screen when the voices got louder.

Soon there was a small knock on my door and in he came. His eyes were almost sparkling, accompanying a smile so big I couldn’t help but return it.

"This is Ayla, our head of creatives." Steve mentioned. He went on to explain what the studio was all about and what I did there, but my eyes just stayed on him. extended my hand and he gingerly took it and gave a little shake. He wasn't letting go.

"Ayla" He said with a heavy breath. "Nice to meet you"

"Pleasures all mine" I replied.

Almost in a trance I was taken back to that night.

_______________________________________________________________________

We had been visiting London on a conference. It was the three of us. Nia, Sammy and myself. We had been there for almost 5 days and it was a productive week. We decided to check out the nightlife, and so we met with a few colleagues and went to a local pub. There was a lot of shouting and music. Seemed like everyone was in that tiny pub. We got our drinks and settles down in a small booth in the corner.

The night went on and I couldn't sit still. I wanted to go and dance, pulling up one of the girls we went onto the dance floor and began dancing. Soon a lovely old jive number came on and I felt someone take my hand. I looked to the person attached and thanks to the few drinks I had, I was feeling chatty.

"Could I get a dance?" He asked already pulling me into position. I glanced around for my friends but only saw a glimpse of her nodding as I was pulled back into this stranger's arms, and damn did he have those big muscly ones. I was a little tipsy, if you couldn't tell, and that made me a little more spontaneous.

"You know what?" I said cheekily, pulling him closer. "Sure" I stage-whispered in his ear.

That was all it took for him to pull me into a full swing jive. We twirled and danced for what seemed like at least 5 songs. 

When we finally settled down I only then realise that all the alcohol has burned off, I was fully sober and completely delighted. He ushers me towards the bar and I gander at the clock on the wall. It was 2 in the bloody morning. Gulping down the glass of water that was placed in front of me I quickly headed over to find my friends. They were chatting away and heartily clapped at my return. I sat back down and we laughed along at something for another hour. The guy that I had danced with was across the bar and our eyes kept making contact. We'd share small smiles and return to the conversations at hand.

"Ooh la la" Frida let out a low whistle. "Looks like Ayla might not be going to the rooms tonight." She said to the rest of them, as a waitress came by with a drink.

She smiled sweetly at me and set it down in front of me. "It's from the lad across the room. Asked me to pass this on too" She said as she handed a napkin with some scribbling on it.

"T'was a great dance. Would the rest of the night together be too much of an ask?" P.s. Drinks is not poisoned I swear.”

I took a small sip of the glass and it tasted normal. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. Frida looked over and read the napkin. "Well?" She asked "Are you going?"

"I don't really know. Should I? That would be very unlikely of me. At the same time I wanna see where it goes. But should I be leaving these two alone?" I just rambled on for a bit while the others tried not to laugh.

"Go have your fun" Nia said. "We'll be fine." She almost seemed as excited as I was feeling.

Quickly grabbing a sticky note pad from my bag and scribbled a reply. I quickly called the waitress and passed the note with her. I watched as he received the note and lit up. He quickly gave his friends some money and walked over to our table. Instinctively I stood up.

"Ready?" He asked with almost what is considered a bad boy smile.

"I guess I am" I gathered my things and handed the room keys to Sammy, got my bag and took his hand.

He began to pull me away and I took a final look back at the table in disbelief. All of them were mouthing good luck and things like keep sending me your location. Quickly nodding I turned back and we were out into the cold air.

"By the way I'm-"

"Let's not use real names" I cut him off. "I don't know why but let's not. I don't know if you're a serial killer, you don't know if I'm one. Let's keep it unknown for now."

He gave a hearty laughed and said "Okay sounds good. Then in that case I'm Francis"

"Like De Valois?" I asked in jest.

"Exactly" He nodded eagerly, almost surprised that I pulled that reference. "Then I guess I'm Mary" I smiled.

He held out his arm and off began our adventure.

_______________________________________________________________________

Steve had turned back to us and I was pulled out of the daydream. I chuckled and unwillingly let go of his hand. It felt like we were about to get caught, which was silly because standing in front of me was Leith not Francis.

"It’s awfully cold in here" Leith said with a small chuckle, as if he remembered something.

"I prefer the cold to the heat" I shrugged "Keeps me more alert."

"Might have to stay in here for my first few days to get used to the temperature" his smile turned sly.

I couldn't help the look of astonishment, seeing what he was trying to pull.

"Now THAT sounds like a fabulous idea!" Steve replied with delight, not even a glance at me. "It'll also put you right in the epicentre of all the work that goes on."

I couldn't move a muscle. Fran- Leith would be working in the same space as me? I would have liked to say that this would be interesting but I genuinely couldn't for the life of me say it would go well.

"Sure!" I responded slowly. "That would be great."

Soon Steve headed out saying something but I couldn't take my eyes off Leith...he was just looking at me like he was trying to decide something. I walked around the table the same time he set his bag down.

He turned as I set my hand on the handle to let him leave, he was close. Heavy musk, that smell of winter nights with a hint of roasted chestnuts. He was moving closer and I couldn't stop myself. I looked up at him through my lashes and all hell broke.

His lips were on mine in a second, it was quick but it was so good. His hand caressed my neck as if to pull me closer. I was so glad that my curtain was pulled over the glass door, so no one saw that.  A small knock at my door sprung us apart. His lips were ever so lightly tinted with my lipstick, I wiped it off as quick as I could. He pulled the door open and walked out perfectly composed

Working together was going to be interesting all right. Just had to make sure some work would actually get done.

_______________________________________________________________________

We began to talk a little. Some part about ourselves, the lives we lead yet not giving any definite clues as to who, what, where, etc. The conversation seemed easy enough. We were just walking around the streets, we had wandered near Camden. The smell of all kinds of street food wafted through the air.

Small sounds of grumbling emanated from both our stomachs and we share a laugh. He asked me if I was allergic to anything, and if there were certain things that I didn't eat, I simply replied that there wasn't and suggested that I would get us some drinks. I found a small shop that sold homemade alcohol and picked up a fancy wine blend sort of thing, had a little taste before buying it. It tasted a little of peach and was slightly tart but had a really nice aftertaste. The man at the store said that it was a bit string so to drink it slowly.

I went back to where we split ways and waited, within seconds he was bounding up the street with bags of food and a goofy smile on his face. He suggested going to Primrose Hill, and having a small midnight picnic. Now I'd be a fool to say no to that.

We polished off the food while chatting and laughing about the silliest of things. I happened to glance at my phone when I saw the time, it was 4a.m. I think he noticed too and suggested heading back to his place.

I couldn't help but agree, we walked hand in hand after disposing all the litter, and walked for about 20 min before coming to a stop in front of a slim building. We slowly walked in, our conversation had settles into a peaceful silence.

We entered a small studio apartment and slipped off our shoes and jackets.

"Water?" He asked switching on small lights as he moved.

"Yes please" I replied. He handed me a glass of water and disappeared into a room. He returned with what looked like a oversized shirt.

He hesitantly handed it to me. "Something more comfy?" I gingerly took it from him and walked into the direction of the room he was pointing to.

Slowly I freshened up and slipped on the shirt, after washing my face and letting down my hair. The shirt was just long enough to not wear pants, pleased with myself I folded my clothes and went out into the room.

I should have waited.

He was still changing and had just tightened his pants. He was also shirtless.

A small smile on both our faces, as I set my folded clothes down on what looked like a dresser.

He gestured to get into the sheets of the bed, next to him. His bed was against a huge window, and I realized that I would have to climb over him to get there, he looked like he was holding back a laugh but that automatically disappeared as I put one leg over him, paused and flopped over onto the bed with an even more smug smile.

He chuckled and shimmied. Yes. He shimmied down into the bed, reached over to shut the lights and turned to face me.  His hands wandered under the sheets till he reached my waist.  The window really helped making him look all sultry and cute. I brought my arm up to his neck, slowly tracing his skin, let it follow its own path till it reached the band of his sweatpants.

He on the other hand had very slowly slipped his hand under the shirt and was caressing my waist and bottom, all the while looking directly at me. He moved forward and very lightly kissed me. It was so light that it felt like it didn't even happen. In a second he kissed me again with a little linger. My fingers pulled on the sweat pants and everything sped up.

We kissed and kissed, lost our clothes somewhere along the way. Filled the room with small moans and grunts, all in throes of passion.

His arms held on tightly as we fell to sleep. The sunlight from the window filled the room almost instantly and my alarm rang indicating that it was 7 am. We had managed to sleep for a little less than an hour and a half. I knew I needed to get to work in time so I immediately tried to stand up, unfortunately I woke up Francis as well. He was still groggy and looking around to figure out what happened.

I couldn’t help but smile. Quickly, I rushed out of bed into the bathroom, and took a shower. By the time I came out he seemed more awake and passed me a glass of water. 

“I’m going to need a shirt please. Anything you don’t mind not getting back.” I smiled a little guilty. 

“That sure we’ll never meet again?” He laughed as he headed to his dresser and ruffled around. He pulled out a powder blue jumper with one of those white collars attached. It was really cute. “This works?” He asked as he handed it to me. 

“It’s perfect.” In minutes I was ready, and looked good to leave. I failed to see that he too was dressed. 

“Where are you headed to?” I asked, putting on some lip colour. 

“Dropping you off to work? Maybe getting some breakfast on the way?” 

I tried to protest but I also really liked that he wanted to do it. I shot a quick text to my colleagues telling them that I’d meet them outside the office by 9. 

On the way we spoke some more and held hands the whole way. Stopped at a small cart and picked up a bagel and coffee before walking to the front of the office building. It was about 10 minutes to 9. I knew the others would get here soon, meaning I would have to end my little adventure and go back to reality. 

He knew this too. Slowly he leaned forward and kissed me slowly. He pulled away, heaved a heavy sigh. “Till whenever?” 

I smiled. “Whenever” I kissed him softly, and that was the last I saw of him. 

_______________________________________________________________________

It was well after lunch and I had decided to try and shoot some of the products that needed to be posted on various platforms. With a hearty laugh outside my door I stilled. He entered after making a comment and sharing a laugh with Sammy and Nia. The room was dark the only light form the studio set up. He walked around me to get to the table, taking an awfully close turn and brushing against me as he passed.

Letting out a deep sigh I watched as he sat silently and set up his system to begin working. He began humming a soft tune and went about his work. He was scribbling something in a notebook and clicking away at his laptop.

It almost got normal till Nia knocked on the door and popped inside to tell us she was leaving. We bid our byes and good nights and the room went quiet.

I packed off the products and switched all the lights off, walking towards the door for the main light I felt a hand on my elbow. I froze.

I felt him move closer and turn me around. A sliver of light was leaking through the curtain on the door. It was perfectly placed to fall partly on his eyes. They were darting around my face as if trying to decide or remember something.

I was pretty sure the whole office was empty. I couldn't stop myself from winding my arms around his neck and pulling tight. His arms encircled my waist and held on tight.

I could feel his heartbeat and he could probably feel mine. Both were increased and beating their own rhythm.

His lips moved against my shoulder but I heard nothing.