#i really hope we get the easter episode as a way of easing in to the arc like in the manga

[heartlessfujoshi]

4 scenes i am excited to be animated in the weston college arc for kuroshitsuji (in no particular order)

i'm pretty sure when they show vincent and diedrich i am going to cease to exist.

[humbledragon669]

Lockdown Episode Write Up P2 – dialogue

Introduction

I don’t think there’s much linking the dialogue with the images (apart from the cake sequence), so I’ve broken this write-up down into tableaus and dialogue, because there are just as many Easter eggs (maybe more) to be had from the tableaus as there are from the script. This part of the write-up will address just the dialogue, with the tableaus addressed in a separate write-up. Right, housekeeping done, let’s get stuck in shall we?

Dialogue

So Crowley picks up on the second ring, sounding very irritated. Considering he’s about to tell Aziraphale how bored he is, you’d think he might actually be relieved about the prospect of somebody calling him. And poor Aziraphale; the brusque greeting clearly puts him off, presumably because he was hoping for a more enthusiastic response, particularly given that Crowley openly tells the angel he knows that it was him calling in the first place.

AZIRAPHALE: Uh… Hello. It’s me! CROWLEY: I know it’s you, Aziraphale.

My thoughts about this exchange? I strongly suspect Aziraphale is the only one that ever calls Crowley. Not only that, I think he’s probably calling the demon multiple times a day at this point. I mean, think about it – neither of them work for their respective agencies anymore. For the first time in 6000 years they can be open about their friendship, no more hiding. And for the first time in those 6000 years something other than Heaven or Hell is making it impossible for them to see each other. I know, they really could have formed a “bubble”, or just ignored the rules completely, given their otherworldly status, but they didn’t because don’t forget – this is a PSA film at heart. Everybody had to STAY AT HOME. Besides, it makes it so much more angsty if they can’t be within physical proximity to one another during this time.

AZIRAPHALE: Just calling to see how you were doing in Lockdown.

Aziraphale actually says makes it sound like this is either the first time the angel has spoken to Crowley during Lockdown (which had been going on for almost two months by the time this minisode was released), or that they don’t speak very often. Personally, I don’t buy this, not least because the demon openly says he’s incredibly bored. And what does Crowley like to do best when he’s bored? Hang out with Aziraphale. Be his personal nuisance.

CROWLEY: I’ve decided that if I can’t think of anything to do within the next two days, I’m going to have a nap and I’ll set the alarm clock for June.

I *think* this is the first time we have confirmation that he does sleep, at least as far as the show is concerned (I’m not counting cut/missing bits from the Script Book, or from the original book). There’s also proof here that he’s actually an optimist, despite his efforts to convince the world at large otherwise – he’s convinced that everything will be back to normal by June. Interestingly, the UK’s really strict national regulations had actually been eased by the time the minisode was released, allowing those who could not work from home to return to work (yeah, we didn’t really know what that meant either, considering those of us who were classed as key workers never stopped going to the workplace), but June was still a very optimistic estimate – whilst restrictions were eased as we went into July, local governments were given the authority to impose local lockdowns where necessary. And boy, did they.

AZIRAPHALE: Oughtn’t you to be out and about doing things?

It's interesting to hear Aziraphale actually encouraging Crowley to be more demon-like. And he doesn’t just encourage, he gives him very appropriate suggestions for things he could be doing to fulfil his demonly duties. To my mind, it suggests his preference for Crowley in a demonic state. Or it could be an opportunity to emphasise the STAY AT HOME message, seeing as (for once) Crowley seems keen to stick to the rules. Take your pick. I know which one I prefer. Either way, there are two pieces of information here that I find noteworthy – firstly, confirmation that Crowley can’t get sick because he’s a demon. I think it’s interesting what human weaknesses the angel and demon are susceptible to, and which not. Alcohol, for instance, albeit in larger quantities than a human could imbibe, has the same effect on their human bodies as it does to humans. Illness and disease on the other hand, it would seem not. Laudanum, as we see in series 2, has an entirely different effect on Crowley than it would do to an ordinary human, but Hastur informs us that ordinary fire would easily discorporate a demon. Makes me wonder if the effect that a Heavenly or Hellish being has on its hosting body is one to do with constitution – where the body has an increased resistance to toxic substances but is unaffected in its ability to deal with trauma.

The second piece of information in this little plea from Aziraphale is that he says Crowley still has a job to do. Which, given the outcome of season 1, he doesn’t. I don’t think it was made blatantly obvious that neither of them report to their respective agencies anymore, so perhaps this is just a slip of the pen, so to speak. It might have been a bit more difficult to slip in this blatant reminder to people that leaving home was a BAD thing to do and that staying at home was the GOOD thing to do otherwise, and this little speech is very clear about listing certain things that were being actively discouraged at the time.

CROWLEY: I could do that. I mean I could… but if I did then… well…people might follow my bad example and get ill. Or even die.

Crowley’s response is… less than enthusiastic. It’s funny to hear him say that people might follow his bad example – surely that’s exactly what he’s been contracted to do for thousands of years? But again, I am forgetting – the whole point of this piece of media is to remind them why we should all just STAY AT HOME. So, with that reminder, let’s look a little more about Crowley’s actual feelings on the subject, shall we?

CROWLEY: I know I ought to be making people’s lives even worse but everyone’s so miserable cooped up right now anyway I just… don’t have the heart for it.

And therein lies the problem for Crowley and his existence as a demon – he actually doesn’t like to make people miserable. He loves to cause mischief and make trouble, but not with the sole intention to bring misery into people’s lives. Ultimately, he’s just too soft at heart to be a very good demon, which David himself has described beautifully.

AZIRAPHALE: I’m not miserable. CROWLEY: Really?

I really love this little exchange. Crowley sounds genuinely shocked that Aziraphale is so certain in his proclamation that he’s not miserable. And it’s hardly surprising really – I strongly suspect the reason that Crowley is feeling so down in the dumps is because he’s not getting a regular fix of his angel, so it stands to reason that he would expect Aziraphale to feel the same way. He’s probably had a little bit of his heart broken to hear that his angel is seemingly coping without him so well. It’s a good thing we go on to hear that basically the reason why Aziraphale is so happy at this time is because he’s not getting any customers in with the threat of trying to buy one of his books, although the angel’s speech does present the writer with another opportunity to remind us of our obligations at the time – social distancing and STAYING AT HOME.

You have to be paying attention, but Crowley doesn’t seem too pleased with the idea that Aziraphale might have needed rescuing from some errant youths that he wasn’t able to help with; there’s a quiet groan from him when he hears the retelling of the story. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think there was some sort of double entendre going on here with Aziraphale’s tease of there being “a few young lads” who “broke in through the back”, so that groan could actually be one of relief rather than frustration. What is interesting is that Crowley openly mocks the only potential rescue scenarios that Aziraphale would have had available to him – he’s obviously smarting that he didn’t get to be the white knight for once.

CROWLEY: Did you smite them with your wrath?

I’d be very interested to know if the script had been finished and handed to David and Michael at this time, because that particular line feels like a very obvious reference to the smited/smote/smitten exchange. And if the reference is a genuine one, my double entendre idea doesn’t seem so outrageous, given Crowley’s tone – could he be a little bit jealous?

What now follows is the only time that the images in the minisode link directly with the dialogue going on at the time, and they’re all to do with cake. Trigger warning, what follows is a lot of pictures of cake. If, like me, you are inclined to go out and buy cake as soon as you see a picture of one, I would suggest you look away now.

What I love about Crowley’s reception of the knowledge that Aziraphale sent the little vandals away with cake is that he uses the same expression that Anathema uses when she asks about the name of Newt’s car.

CROWLEY: I’m going to regret asking…

His tone shows just what he thinks of the angel’s method for rescuing himself. And if you consider Aziraphale’s tale to be a truthful account of what took place, it does seem odd - that somebody could just have a little chat with some wannabe robbers to change their minds, and then send them away with some excess cake. There is however a missing scene in the Script Book where several thugs enter the bookshop and start to make a mess in an attempt to get Aziraphale to sell the land the shop sits on. In a somewhat “miraculous” turn of events (see what I did there?), they change their mind, clear up the mess they made, and leave without a fuss. I suspect the same sort of turn of events occurred to the lads that turned up to steal the cash box.

AZIRAPHALE: It turns out I have a whole cookbook section here in the bookshop.

I love this idea, that the bookshop is so sprawling and diverse that even Aziraphale doesn’t know what it contains, despite the fact that he must have stocked it in the first place. And I love it because that’s the how every second-hand bookshop feels to me. I’ve spent my fair share of time in Hay-on-Wye and its multitude of bookshops, and I genuinely feel like I could get lost in some of them. There are another couple of lines from Aziraphale that suggests that he does not think it possible to eat anything unless it comes from an eatery.

AZIRAPHALE: Well all the restaurants and cafes are closed […] and I got peckish.

Because he couldn’t just go to the supermarket and buy some cake, could he? Like the rest of us were doing (and were allowed to do). He even goes on to say that he had to miracle the cherries in for one of his creations – quite why it was only the cherries he miracled in I don’t know, I mean he must have gotten the rest of the ingredients from somewhere. Which leads me on to another question – where is the kitchen in the bookshop? There must be some facilities somewhere, otherwise he couldn’t make all of those delightful looking goodies. He’s got to have a kettle or a stove for boiling water/milk at the very least for making his cocoa, so where is all that stuff?

Aziraphale then goes on to reel off a list of cakes that he’s made (another nod to the domestic activities that were going on up and down the country – for those not based in the UK, you might not know that during Lockdown it was virtually impossible to get hold of flour or eggs, largely owing to the huge increase in home baking people did), which includes angel’s food cake (you could argue that all of the cakes he makes is angel’s food cake, hahah. Hah. I’ll get my coat). I don’t know whether it’s interesting, whether it’s an oversight, or whether it’s deliberate, but there’s no devil’s food cake on the list that he gives. I’ve made and eaten devil’s food cake before. It’s awesome. I don’t think that he wouldn’t have made this particular recipe because of its lack of deliciousness. I actually wonder whether its absence is an indicator of Crowley’s eating preferences (and as a reminder, I’m someone who is of the mind that he doesn’t enjoy eating – more on this shortly).

 AZIRAPHALE: And then, once I’ve baked them, I have to eat them all myself.

This line makes me properly snort with laughter, because he simultaneously manages to make it sounds like eating all the cake is something he definitely doesn’t want to do whilst also expressing sorrow that he has no-one around to eat them in front of with. The idea that this angel would ever not want to eat food is laughable. Crowley takes the bait on the sub-text though, employing some his tried and tested temptation techniques to try to get what he wants.

CROWLEY: I could hunker down at your place. Slither over and watch you eat cake. I could bring a bottle of- a case of something… drinkable?

This is my favourite line of the whole thing. The throwaway reference to his serpent form is delightful, and who’s to say he wouldn’t transform for his trip over to Soho to avoid being stopped by humans? There’s  the idea that he would very much like to get drunk with Aziraphale again, and this time without an impending Armageddon to spoil the mood, and with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be going home at the end of their binge. But most of all there’s that line about the cake. He doesn’t say he can help Aziraphale eat the cake – he says he can come and watch the angel eat it. Which would not only go some way to confirming my suspicions that he doesn’t like to eat but would also help to cement the popular theory that watching Aziraphale eat is a pleasurable experience for him. The whole line is said with such longing too, it’s impossible not to hear it.

AZIRAPHALE: I’m afraid that would be breaking all the rules.

If you listen carefully to Aziraphale’s rejection of Crowley’s (quite frankly, adorable) suggestion, you can hear another little bit of the demon’s heart breaking with disappointment. I suppose he probably shouldn’t be surprised that his request of Aziraphale to go against protocol wouldn’t have gone down well and besides we were all supposed to STAY AT HOME, remember? What sort of a PSA film would this be if people just went around to other people’s houses for some flirting nookie company when there was a Lockdown in place?

AZIRAPHALE: I’ll see you when this is over.

So of course, Aziraphale says no thank you very much (quite a lot of Tory party members could have learned a lot from the angel’s morals, and none of them are half as likeable as he is), but how incredibly sad does he sound at the prospect of not knowing when he and Crowley will see each other again? Crowley might have quietly voiced his disappointment multiple times during the conversation, but Aziraphale’s own disappointment here is stated loud and clear.

Crowley’s upset can be heard again after this very final sounding line from his angel (and this time it breaks my own heart a little bit) but he rallies well, changing his planned nap end time to July, rather than June as declared earlier. It’s a pretty perfect way to get out of missing someone, isn’t it? Just go to sleep until you can see them again; I’m sure there are a lot of people that would definitely be on board with that approach. He doesn’t leave any further room for discussion either:

CROWLEY: Good night, angel.

It’s very definite – conversation over, nothing more to say. My thoughts are that he’s just too depressed to carry on talking on the phone to the one person he would much rather be spending time with in person, and now that he’s found a quick and painless solution to the problem (a nap), he just wants to get on with it. Charmingly though, this parting line sounds nothing like the dismissal it seems like it is when you see it written down. The delivery of this line conveys the familiarity and comfort that exists between the two of them, and actually makes it sound like this is a regular conversation that they have, despite the dialogue suggesting otherwise. As it turned out, July wasn’t really long enough to get completely clear of the restrictions that would see our heroes united freely, but who can blame him for being optimistic? And at least if he’s asleep, he’s definitely STAYING AT HOME.

Well I think that’s the lot for this write up. So much for this being such a short episode that it wouldn’t need a lot of time devoted to it. It was a fun little thing; in truth I think it serves more as a PSA that as an additional source of storyline/character development but that hasn’t dampened my enjoyment of it. Time to move on to season 2 now (which I am both excited and a little bit nervous about – there is so much to say!), so for the meantime, questions, comments, discussion: always welcome 😊

[evakuality]

4 years of Druck s3 - week 7

Things of note in this episode:

1.  This is probably my favourite episode and so this is likely to be lengthy!

2.  I really love how this conversation with Hans differs from the og.  In a lot of ways I prefer this one, unlike the one in episode 5.  In this, first, Matteo says ‘if it makes you happy’ he’ll call him his guru and I love that change in the dynamic.  Plus, I really do love that Hans is attuned enough to religion that he takes Matteo into church to have this conversation (and so Matteo’s mother does in a way see him in church that day).  I think it’s very important that a lot of Matteo’s issues about all this stem from religion and so taking him into a place of religion to demystify it is so important.  Also, Hans’s advice about David isn’t that he’s probably playing Matteo (as Eskild suggests to Isak), but that he’s probably not out and needs time and respect for that or to be left alone.  It resonates in a different way, and the fact that this religious breakthrough happens at Easter is a really lovely touch.  Plus we get the whole bit about Matteo’s mother, and he’s able to come to terms with her and her issues in a way that leaves him much calmer and more at peace.  Compare the above picture to this one from the start of the episode:

This earlier Matteo was so sad and he was at seas and all confused.  But at least he knew that going to Hans would help - and was able to do it even when Hans had been so upset with him before.  And kudos to Hans for seeing past all that and recognising that Matteo genuinely does need a gay guru and being that person for him.  This conversation has done exactly what Matteo needed it to and he’s so much happier and more at ease both with the David thing and with his mother.  

3.  Speaking of religion, this whole bit with Amira is a) so lovely and b) so important.  After their previous discussion, this has needed to be addressed and she does it in such a gracious way - which he returns.  I do think that without the chat with Hans he may have been less keen to hear what Islam thinks about homosexuality but together these two conversations have really helped him unpack some of his prejudices about religion, and he is far more willing and able to open up to hi9s mother with the hope that she won’t reject him.  I absolutely love that ‘for Easter’ Amira’s family has made some food to share, thus showing Matteo that religion can be open and accepting of other faiths, cultures and lifestyles.  Amira doesn’t just tell him she and her religion accept him, she shows him and it’s very powerful.  Even if her bringing outside food into a cafe worries me, since you’re absolutely not allowed to do it here.

4.  I really love the colours in this episode - they’re so much warmer and more cheerful than the previous ones.  Partly that’s because this was Easter and the colours work really well for that time of year.  But also because Matteo is starting to warm up and open up into his new self.  I am, once again, so impressed by the way light and colour is used in this show.  It’s just soooo goooooood.

I also love how much Carlos has grown - Kiki has such strong views and she wants everyone to agree with them.  In a lot of her life, people just don’t (I imagine Zoe must be such a stress for her, for example), but Carlos, who has been shown as a bit of a lad and quite ignorant and occasionally offensive, has taken it all on board and you can see it in the way he acts and the things he says now.  He enjoys his new knowledge and certainly has a lot of sensitivity to people and their relationships.  He’s the one who knew things were off with Matteo and Sara, and he’s the one who moves to listen actively to Matteo here and who says things he hopes are supportive and encouraging.

5.  Sara.  This poor kid.  We see here the culmination of everything that’s been going wrong in her life and it must have been so hard seeing Matteo in the midst of all this.  But I like to think that she feels lighter and happier after this is done.  We do know what she reaches out to Leonie after Matteo suggests that talking to people helps.  If we compare this picture of her to the way she was shown in s1 and even 2, she’s so diminished, shot from above and looks so weak and vulnerable.  Even compared to the social media post she made wearing this exact outfit, she looks different.  But it’s maybe like a wound being lanced - like Matteo she was trying to put up a facade, live a fake life in that earlier post.  But now she’s able to be real and yeah that hurts but it’s better and they will both be able to move on and be happier more authentic people in the aftermath.

6.  Speaking of hurting - Matteo makes so much great progress this episode and he’s able to become a happier and more settled person.  But at the core is this boy who misses the boy he thought he was creating something nice with.  He told Hans he ‘can’t believe’ that David doesn’t want him and I think that makes this even harder.  The pictures and videos David sends are sending him mixed messages.  On one hand, he’s keeping up the contact and trying to maintain something with Matteo - on the other, this stuff is all ‘it’s not you it’s me’ ‘in a different life we’d be in Detroit’ etc etc.  There’s no hint that things can be ‘real’ between them in this life and so Matteo keeps having these small moments of sadness throughout the episode.

7.  And so that’s why this whole part is tinged with a melancholy.  Unlike in other versions, there’s no passion here, no ‘throwing caution to the wind’ or anything.  Instead it’s so gentle and cautious, so fragile.  There’s a sigh of relief that David is here, but neither of them is at ease.  Of course, we start to understand David’s thing the next day.  But even here it’s so clear why Matteo feels the way he does - everything since David told him he’s not into him has been such a rollercoaster that it’s not possible for him to throw caution to the wind.  He’s felt so much sadness and heartbreak about David even this week that he can’t allow himself to fully dive into this moment.  And of course we’re left with this shot of David’s face and we get to see that he’s not happy either.  It’s a long long few hours til the next morning and David’s secret!

[wonderlustlucas]

satori - park chanyeol

⇢ prompt Let’s make it forever.—sequel to greatest gift ⇢ pairing chanyeol x female reader ⇢ word count 14.3k ⇢ genre fluff & smut ⇢ warnings explicit sexual content, small dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms (just 3 don’t get excited), unprotected sex, creampie, mild cumplay?, i think that’s all this is basically pwp but somehow 14k words ⇢ summary It’s been a little more than two years since you and Chanyeol started dating and you have never been so happy. Perhaps you are just blinded by love, but things are perfect and you cannot help but think it has something to do with having the love of your life always by your side. You also cannot help but think this kind of love lasts forever.—established relationship!au ⇢ a/n ok i really wasn’t planning on writing a sequel to greatest gift but then like 1 person asked me to & then i was inspired by 170727 kokobop chanyeol watch the fancam dudes that’s the exact outfit he wears in this & have been listening to forever religiously & really just wanted to write pcy saying ‘nice skirt’ so here we are. u don’t need to read greatest gift to read this but u will have more background info ab characters & relationships. ok that’s all from me, i really spilled my heart out into this one & am very proud so i hope u love satori as much as i do! ♥︎

In the midst of your monotonous Pinterest scrolling, the unlocking and opening of the front door tears your attention away from the video that so enticingly grasps your attention, no matter how badly you wish it to finish. Glancing up, you first look to the television, where your fourth episode of Property Brothers drones on, flickering light into the otherwise dark room. Then, it is Toben who catches your eye, head lifting from his position by your feet at the sound of the door clicking shut. So quick is he to abandon you, excitedly leaping down from the sofa to greet his human. In all honesty, you do not blame him; he simply is not as lazy as you are on this dreary Friday night.

Well, perhaps not so dreary anymore. Sure, the unremitting, hazy rain and grey clouds beyond the warm confines of your apartment beg to differ, but inside, the sun itself has entered.

“You know what’s sad?” You call out to him, lips quirked in amusement.

“What?” He answers from down the hall, followed by the rustle of his jacket as he hangs it onto the coat rack. The familiar deepness of his voice alone is enough to put you at ease; instantly, you feel like putty against the pillow propped beside you when you imagine his humored smile. At the sound of Toben’s nails scratching against the hardwood as he scurries back into the room, you take one last lingering glimpse to the video that has been playing on loop on your phone.

“I don’t know how to tie a tie.”

Making his way down the foyer, he laughs. Barely a low chuckle, mostly out of confusion at your out-of-the-blue statement, but this makes you crack a smile nonetheless.

“Why should you know how to tie a tie?”

You know he is finally here without having to look up. You can feel it, the way his presence beckons for your attention effortlessly, tugging at the strings of your heart and the cords to your soul. The way the room seems to instantly grow warmer, brighter, the way just seeing his frame, tall and regal in your peripheral vision, is enough to have your legs quivering with the need to have him closer. “I don’t know,” you snort, turning to look at him at last, “wouldn’t it be cute if I did your tie before we went out?”

“___, how often do we go places where a tie is necessary?” Chanyeol muses, though you don’t exactly pay any mind to his reasoning. It’s not that you are ignoring him, you’re just… taking time to engrave this image in your mind, just like every other day. He’s beautiful, you distantly note, the epitome of your dreams standing at the entrance of the living room like a beacon, blue light from the TV flashing against his oversized olive-green sweatshirt and hair falling in floofy curls over his forehead. His hair.

His hair.

Somewhere in between you slowly blinking at him in the dark and leaning forward to turn the light on, he asks how your day was. Now, this goes ignored, brain preoccupied trying to fully process the fact that his hair is pink.

“You— what? When?” Overlooking his question, you sputter, “I thought you were at work!”

Amused at your baffled astonishment, Chanyeol kicks his sneakers off near the shoe rack before making his way over, stifling a laugh at your rendered silence. “Do you like it?” He asks, scooping your legs up from the sofa so he can crash down close beside you, quickly laying them over his lap.

Pinterest ‘how to tie a tie’ video long forgotten, you toss your phone onto the coffee table and lean forward, grasping his face in both hands in order to lower the crown of his head to your nose. With only a single inhale, the accumulative scent of bleach and hair dye and everything salon nearly has your eyes watering before you drop your hands. At that, you lean back far enough to fully admire him in the light, cheeks and lips puffy from a long day, skin glowing with the remnants of misty rain, but the hair. Oh good God, the hair. A shade somewhere in between bubblegum pink and your favorite lip gloss, it has your insides alight with butterflies in seconds.

“And here I thought you couldn’t get any more handsome,” you finally sigh, burying your face into your palms. The anxiety that had begun fizzing in his nerves from your scrutinizing is immediately extinguished, replaced with a fresh wave of pride to his ego and, well, absolute adoration for you.

“Is that a yes?” Chanyeol laughs, loud and boisterous as he bends to awkwardly lie against you, paying no mind to the way the furniture creaks as he wiggles his way into the small space. “Duh,” you scoff, moving your arm so he can better nestle his long ass self between your legs, “I thought red was my favorite, but now I’m not so sure.” When he laughs again, you feel it in your soul, the vibrations resonating within you and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders, tugging him closer. Once he’s caught on that you desperately, always, crave for such proximity, Chanyeol instantly shimmies his way up, dimple prominent when you cup his face one more time to press a welcoming kiss first to his forehead, then his nose, then his lips. “I missed you.”

“I bet I missed you more,” he replies once satisfied five kisses later, turning his head to rest against his favorite pillow, aka your chest. Knowing you will never win in any such argument like this with him, you bite your tongue and take to combing your fingers through the freshly colored strands of hair, cringing at the thought that it won’t be this soft after he’s washed it. “So, what made you do this?”

He shrugs, half of his attention paid toward the renovation reveal displayed on the TV. “Thought I’d switch it up for Easter, so I just went before heading to the studio.”

“What did Jongdae think?” You wonder with a laugh. Out of all Chanyeol’s friends, Jongdae was never one to go for the extravagant hair colors. Orange was the extent of his spectrum, and even that was short-lived. “Said he liked it, then called me an Easter egg, so who knows,” he grumbles, clearly troubled by his friend’s lack of an immediate, one hundred percent approval. This in itself is enough to make you laugh, but you choose to change the subject for the sake of Chanyeol’s immeasurable ego. “Speaking of,” you hum, enamored with just the sliver of his face you can see from this angle, “how’s the album going?”

“It’s good,” Chanyeol hums, chin digging into your sternum when he turns to look at you once more, “Jongdae is gonna start recording on Monday.” As he says this, he stretches his arms above your head before flopping them down by your sides, one cold hand sneaking under the hem of your crew neck to splay against the warmth of your back. Now, this is mutualism at its finest: with the two of you seemingly always running at an internal temperature too high, you both are feens for a cold touch once in awhile. So, as Chanyeol gets to warm his hands up, you, too, benefit with the coolness against your burning skin. It also may have to do with that time he had ice cubes against your—

You shake your head to rid the tantalizing memory.

“I’m so excited to hear it,” you whisper without meaning to, perhaps reduced to mush at your current intimacy, “with his voice, knowing you wrote the majority of the album. Ah, it’s gonna be beautiful.” Pushing his bangs back and giving his scalp a good scratch all the way to the nape of his neck, you add with a wrinkle of your nose, “I wish it was you, though.”

Chanyeol lets out an amused snort, one eye peeled open to glare at you for disrupting the drowsy daze you have cast him under. “But you already have my singing all to yourself, you don’t need an album,” he mutters, voice marbled with sleep and your fingers twitch with the need to trace the swell of his pouty lips. You do it, anyway, and receive a chaste kiss to the pad of your thumb in return.

“How was the museum?” He asks nearly ten minutes later, stirring just slightly to stretch the arm not curled around you up and past your head. You were under the impression he was fast asleep if the shallowness of his breath was anything to go by. Perhaps not. “Slow Friday, as usual,” you sigh, aching to stretch, too, now that the weight of having a grown ass man on you has finally taken its toll, “had a live animal show with the barn owl and Branch, again.”

“Branch is the new opossum, right?” Chanyeol questions, suddenly pushing himself up enough to sit back on his heels. He must have noticed your stiffness. Offering him an appreciative smile, you lean up and fluff the now squashed pillow beneath you before flopping back down on your side. “Yeah,” you hum, pulling him down to rejoin you, “he’s cute. Imprinted, too, so he loves cuddles. Almost as much as you.” It’s awfully cramped with your back pressed up against the leather and Chanyeol flush against you, but you would never complain about having him so close. You usually can’t get close enough.

“I’ll never forget the raccoons. They were so cute,” Chanyeol hums, reminiscent to the singular time your boss allowed you to sneak him in to meet all of the museum’s disabled animals. With his hipbone pressed against the curve of your stomach, he slots one long leg between your own, surely building his nest even though he should eat and shower before getting comfortable. “That was fun,” you agree, pausing for just a moment when his hand, large enough to cradle half of your face, comes to do so. “They were hella messy though, ugh,” grumbling, you return his previous gesture and press a kiss to the palm of his hand when his thumb goes about running along your bottom lip, “I’ll never forget the time Lavender shit in their enclosure asI was cleaning it.”

Chanyeol frowns, brows quickly drawing together and the sudden change in his expression certainly throws you off guard. “Don’t talk about raccoon shit when I’m about to kiss you,” he murmurs, leaning up on one elbow to ever so slightly hover over you.

“Oh?” You chuckle, dragging your hands up the ridges of muscle in his arms to link behind his neck. “I didn’t know that was your plan.” Like this, you still can’t fight your smile at just how well the pink hair compliments the warmth of his honey complexion.

Lips jutting out in a deeper pout, Chanyeol slips his hand under your shirt to grab ahold of your waist. “That’s always my plan,” he sighs longingly, finally swooping down to capture your lips in a kiss powerful enough for the world around you to fall away.

When you wake, you come to realize three abnormalities.

First, your pillow is not where it should be. Flat on your stomach and limbs spread like a starfish, you raise your head just enough to catch the corner of said pillow staring at you sadly from the floor below.

Second, you are cold. This, you have no one to blame but yourself, having torn your clothes off in a hurry and fallen asleep soaked in the warmth of one another. Now, with the blankets only coming up mid-back, you cannot fight your shivers at the cold air against your bare skin.

And lastly, Chanyeol is still awake.

It takes several moments for you to come to your senses, feeling as if you have awoken from a season long hibernation, the haze and confusion of having abruptly awakened rendering you incompetent when it comes to gathering your wits for several moments. Finally, once you have realized where you are, you first take to wiping at the drool that has pooled directly onto the sheets and, consequently, crusted onto your cheek. Nice. Pausing just a moment to collect your disoriented thoughts once more, you then lean half your body off the bed to retrieve your pillow with a grunt, and, just a little further away, your shirt. On your way back up, you catch the time on your nightstand shining an angry 2:43 am at you.

“What are you still doing up?” You ask, voice groggy and thick with sleep once you have flopped onto your back, chest heaving with the unnecessary effort you just had to exert in the middle of your weekend slumber. Squinting past the shine of the bedside lamp he’s kept on and the bright screen of his laptop, you recline just enough to see that he’s… online shopping?

“Baekhyun showed me this really cool site for colored contacts,” Chanyeol explains, then, after turning to you with furrowed brows and a worried pout, “did I wake you?”

God, you’re confused, brain in no state to try and figure out why he’s looking at colored contacts at almost three in the morning when he had fallen asleep with you no more than four hours ago. “No, no… well, actually, I don’t know, I think I just woke up on my own,” you murmur, sitting up to pull the crew neck over your head, “why… why are you looking at contacts, again?”

The rasp of his chuckle is enough to draw you closer, rolling to meet his side and pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “Baekhyun said blue contacts with pink hair is a good look, so I’m gonna order a pair,” he whispers, lifting his arm despite your grumble of protest to curl around your shoulders and tug you close. The white light from his laptop is a bit too harsh on your eyes, but you manage to keep one half open to peek at the selection. Then, “You’re so weird. Go to bed.”

“I will, after I order,” he whispers for the sake of letting you fall back asleep, yet you can hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, whatever,” you grunt, turning onto your other side but still latching onto his arm, “get me a pair, too.”

For the brief time in between living with college roommates and then moving with Chanyeol, sleeping in on Saturday mornings in the comfort of your own apartment was always your favorite. No obligations, no work, and certainly no one to disturb you. Whether you finally rolled out of bed at ten, one, or four o’clock--- it didn’t matter. If you had plans at night, you still had plenty of time to get ready and you were in a much better mood to socialize than the other days of the week. Sleeping in on Saturdays till whatever time deemed sufficient simply brings about a whole new level of comfort and consists of several factors at the root of such leisure.

This list certainly became askew, however, once you and Chanyeol began spending nights with one another. Before, simply waking to a quiet apartment, ceiling fan humming and sunlight trickling through the bottom of your blinds was your favorite part of the week. But waking up with the love of your life curled into you certainly makes this experience all the better. And at this point, it seems as if waking up with the warmth of Chanyeol’s breath against the nape of your neck will remain at the top of your list forever.

So, for that to be absent is enough to startle you into an upright position only seconds after you have opened your eyes. Palm coming to slap against the deserted Chanyeol-indented space of mattress beside you, you stroke up and down the sheets, once, twice, before the lingering warmth on the pillow and sheets eases your nerves. Spinning to catch the time, you squint as if that will kickstart the drowsy parts of your brain to comprehend 12:37 pm and all the possible reasons why he is not here with you before tossing the blankets aside and rising with a much-needed stretch.

Shielding your eyes from the sunlight seeping in from between the blinds, you first reach for your underwear tossed haphazardly by the window before half-shimmying them up your legs and half-hopping to the door. Perhaps he’s in the office, you wonder, stepping into the foyer but alas, the door remains open and the lights off. Just as you’ve wandered into the living room, scratching by the front door to the right of you is immediately followed by the lock clicking open and, seconds later, Chanyeol has returned.

You’re a little thrown off. Sweatpants, wrinkled t-shirt, moccasins, and a terribly cute case of bedhead, it seems as if he just rolled out of bed seconds prior. But in his hands, he holds two full grocery bags and Toben’s leash.

“Good morning,” he smiles softly, eyes puffy with sleep. Yep, definitely just woke up. “Mom called,” he explains, lifting the bags before passing them to you so he can unhook Toben, “said something about… someone else not being able to cook a main for tomorrow... so she asked if we could do the Easter bread and brought all the stuff for it.” He explains as you rummage through the groceries. Milk, yeast, a carton of eggs; all things you have here, but Mrs. Park’s kindness never fails to surprise you. “Ah,” humming, you make way for the kitchen counter to set everything down, “I was very confused.”

“Sorry,” joining you in the kitchen, Chanyeol curls an arm around your waist and tugs you closer to kiss your temple, “I didn’t want to wake you.” Lining all the dry ingredients up for later, you hand him the rest to put in the refrigerator. “Well, thank you,” flashing him an appreciative smile, you finally take to rubbing your eyes as it seems you won’t be going back to bed anytime soon, “do you want anything to eat? I can make eggs if you make pancakes.” Crust sufficiently wiped from your eyes, you lean against the cabinets and glance to Chanyeol, soaking in the way he seems to glow in the sunlight illuminating him and the messy curls of pink hair. Ugh. He’s the worst.

“Breakfast sounds good,” he agrees, gaze flickering down to your bare legs for hardly a second before taking two short steps closer and suddenly, you’re not so sure he means eggs and pancakes if the way his eyes darken is anything to go by.

“You should probably put some pants on, first,” Chanyeol rumbles with a thoughtful rise of his brows, one hand anchoring onto the curve of your waist while another dips into the waistband of your panties before letting it slap back against your skin.

Despite the burning desire that flares in your abdomen at the daring move, you jut your chin out, eyeing him contentiously. “Oh! You’re right,” smirking, you force yourself to avoid making eye contact in order to calmly slip out of his grip, “let me go grab some sweats.”

You’ve hardly made it to the dining table by the time he’s back on you, reaching for your wrist and spinning you to meet his chest. At the near growl that escapes him, you quite literally quiver from head to toe. “So funny, I forgot to laugh,” Chanyeol grumbles, gripping the back of your thighs to help you onto the wood before diving in to kiss you.

It quite literally sucks the life out of you, but then again, that’s every kiss with him. “I thought it was pretty funny,” you giggle before he really has you loopy on the taste of him, but it doesn’t take long for your jaw to slacken, allowing him further access. So quickly you fall under his spell, fingers curling into the hairs at the nape of his neck and legs coming to wrap around his waist when the kiss turns into nothing more than a clash of teeth and tongue. It doesn’t take long for him to rid you of your shirt, either, or have you lying back before him as he places hot, open-mouthed kisses all the way down from your throat to the waistband of your underwear. Christ, this poor table.

Good thing this is the only such meal ever eaten here.

Out of fear that he would stop once you mentioned anything, you have never complimented Chanyeol on his shower singing. Sure, you have heard him loud and clear throughout your home and sometimes even when he’s secluded in his office, but something tells you singing in the shower is different. You wouldn’t necessarily call it an invasion of privacy considering no such privacy exists in your relationship by now, but you simply do not want to mention it because knowing him, he subconsciously will either sing quieter or amp it up knowing you are listening in. And you don’t want him to change what he’s already doing.

With your back facing the bathroom door, you remain in the same position Chanyeol left you in, on your side with your head on his pillow rather than your own. You should probably get out of bed soon, anyway, the colon between the ten and forty-three on the clock blinking at you in judgment, but listening to Chanyeol sing along to a fourth Radiohead song with the luxurious smell of him around you is a much better alternative. You have plenty of time to get ready, you tell yourself, nestling deeper into the pillow, only seconds before Chanyeol’s singing ceases as he turns the water off. Frowning, you take this as your cue to give up any possible five-minute nap and return to your side of the bed to retrieve your phone.

“Are you up?” Chanyeol calls from behind the door just as you have opened up Instagram. “Yeah!”

He opens the door at your confirmation, showering steam and light into the otherwise cave-like bedroom. “I’m gonna have to leave soon,” Chanyeol says once you have rolled over to look him, towel wrapped snuggly around his hips and Q-tip in ear, “Mom is in her usual panic and asked if I could help her out.” Frowning, you flop onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. “What ever am I to do without you for two and a half hours?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” he hums, making his way over and leaning over you, arms coming to rest at each side of your head. You twitch when a droplet of water running down his jaw falls onto your cheek.  “G’morning, by the way,” he mumbles against your lips after coming closer and you graciously return the soft kiss he offers you. Of course, you pull him back for a second, much deeper one, smiling when he ever so slightly shifts when your fingers come to trail up the toned expanse of his stomach, hand coming to cradle his jaw.

You pull back with a sly smile when his tongue threatens to push past the seam of your lips. “Do you know what you’re wearing?” You ask, ignoring the betrayed look in his eyes when you sit up and nudge him out of the way. “No,” he grumbles, returning to the bathroom once he realizes he is not getting anything more than a kiss. Stifling a laugh, you swing your legs over and sit on the edge of the mattress, watching him comb product through his hair. After two showers, it already seems to have lost its initial pop of color. Sad.

Rising with a stretch, you head toward the closet and stop along the way to pull a pair of sweatpants up your legs—just so he doesn’t get any ideas—and flip the closet light on before opening the doors. At the sound of the hairdryer roaring to life, you take to sifting through the shirts he has hung up, trying to avoid the blacks as this is his family’s annual Easter get-together. It certainly is not as extravagant as Christmas, but Chanyeol is a man of style and you know he prides himself showing up as best dressed. Going something pastel would be a nice change for the spring season, but yet again… you linger on a navy button-up. The white decal means he could wear white pants, but it is a little casual, barely a step up from a Hawaiian shirt, but maybe he could wear a nice jacket with it.

Plucking it by the hanger, you turn toward the bathroom and hold the seemingly unworn shirt out to him as he moves to the last section of damp hair. “This, with white pants? Do you have a jacket this color?” You shout over the hairdryer, reaching to brush away a tuft of hair falling in his eyes. Chanyeol considers it for a moment, gaze flickering back to his reflection before nodding to you. “Yeah, in the other closet, though. Thank you,” you just barely hear him but smile nonetheless, stealing the dryer from him to direct the hot air toward the back where hair refuses to lay flat.

Passing it back to him when you’re done, he only does one more run through before switching it off and moving on to gel just to assure the hair he has combed back stays up and away from his forehead. “You look really handsome with it parted like that,” you compliment, staring up at him with wide eyes and you mentally slap yourself at how flustered you sound. Dating for over two years and you still can’t get a grip. The look on his face makes your embarrassment worth it, though. “I had no idea how the back looked, so thank you,” Chanyeol chuckles, rinsing residue gel off his hands before unplugging the hairdryer and ushering you back into your bedroom. Not without another kiss, of course. As a treat.

Hooking the hanger with his shirt onto the doorknob of the closet, you take to undressing as he does the opposite, tossing your sleep apparel to the hamper and only stopping to help him redo the buttons of his shirt he so kindly misaligned. “I’m gonna get in the shower,” you hum, goosebumps coming in waves when his hand comes to glide against your bare skin, starting at your waist, up the curve of your breast, over your collarbones and finally cradling your neck, “I’ll see you in a little bit?”

“Yes ma’am,” he affirms, ducking to peck the corner of your mouth, “I’ll get an Uber so you can have the car?”

“No! You drive, don’t you have to pick stuff up? I’ll Uber,” you offer, wrapping your arms around him and blinking up at him with your chin sitting on his chest. When he shakes his head you realize, as usual, there’s no point in arguing. “It’s fine,” Chanyeol grins, pinching your side, “no one else gets to drive my girl but me.” Rolling your eyes to counteract the heat that flares its way up your neck, you pull away, smoothing out the wrinkles you made in his shirt. “Yeah, whatever. Don’t forget a jacket.”

“I won’t,” smiling, he leans over to give you a proper kiss this time, “see you at two.”

Once the Park family, as well as distant relatives and close friends, found out you and Chanyeol were together, things certainly changed.

You were no longer simply Seoyun’s best friend. Everyone knew you at that point, sure, accepted the fact that where Seoyun went, you followed, but dating Chanyeol had all the stage lights pointing to you. You couldn’t necessarily understand why that came to be, but assumed that it simply had to do with how popular he is, even in his own family. For someone not nearly as outgoing as Chanyeol, the news came as a surprise to many on that monumental Christmas party two years ago. Others, however, apparently had their bets on when the two of you would finally crumble for years.

Chanyeol’s mother, for example, was one such person.

For as many things that went wrong this morning, from your straightener not heating past one-fifty, to having a breakdown over what to wear, and even messing up your eyeliner one too many times, you have somehow arrived seven minutes early. Before you left, Chanyeol had called, too, asking you to pick up two bottles of soju and a bag of glass noodles because 1) him and his cousins already managed their way through a bottle and 2) the noodle pack his mom picked up was half the serving she needed. This alone tells you you’re in for a long night.

Christ, it would have been nice if he was here to open the door for you, though. With a heavy grocery bag, wrapped Easter bread, keys, and handbag threatening to slip off your shoulder, it takes ample effort to safely hook your pinkie finger around the grocery bag so you can lock the car. Then, you manage to open the storm door with your elbow, seconds away from dropping the Easter bread in the endeavor. Chanyeol claims he forgot it on the counter. Luckily, the maroon front door with its pretty spring wreath has been left ajar, and it isn’t until you have finally slipped your way inside does someone realize whoever’s huffing and puffing out there needs help.

“Here, I’ll take this,” he offers in a rush, further opening the door to accommodate the two of you and taking the bread from your arms.

“Thank you,” you smile, wiping your boots on the welcome mat before looking up to your knight in shining armor.

Oh. Oh.

“I don’t think I’ve met you before,” you chuckle, squinting at the ridiculously attractive stranger. Phew. There’s no way you would have missed such a face in all your years with the Park family whether Chanyeol was the apple of your eye or not.

“No, you haven’t. This is my first rodeo around here,” he grins brightly. His smile makes him even more attractive, if that is possible. “I’m Jongin. Nice to meet you…?”

Oh. Oh.

“Jongin, as in Kim Jongin Park Seoyun’s boyfriend?”

“Yes…?” He trails off awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “You apparently know me, yet I don’t know you.”

“I’m ___,” you laugh, stepping past him and leading him out of the front foyer. When you glance back at him, you can see the gears turning in his brain before an excited expression of recognition flashes across his face. “Oh! Oh, shit. You’re the infamous ___. Christ, sorry. Hi.”

“I’m not sure why you’re apologizing, but then again, I have no idea what that woman has said about me,” laughing, you pause to wave to some of Chanyeol’s cousins in the family room before continuing with Jongin to the kitchen, “don’t trust anything she says. I promise I’m nice. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, though, Mr. Jongin.”

“Ah, you as well,” smiling softly, he seems quite overwhelmed at the Park’s rowdiness, gaze anxiously flickering around the crowded room as he ever so slightly steps closer. You distantly wonder why Seoyun would leave him stranded, but that’s not your problem. “So, if you are ___, does that mean you’re…”

Like some sort of cartoon, Jongin trails off just as both of you find Chanyeol in the crowd, beer in one hand and bowl in another as his mother deposits what looks like mussel and scallop shells into it. Maybe it’s your automatic Chanyeol-tunnel-vision, but even in the midst of the busy room he seems to be the rising star, standing tall and regal by the counter, laugh booming over all the noise and simply glowing in the warm wash of light. He managed to find a navy jacket practically matching his shirt, too. Dear God. “Yeah,” once you finally tear your gaze away to turn to Jongin, he’s already watching you, smiling at the way you so lovingly looked at Chanyeol. “I’m the lucky lady.”

“Hey, he’s the lucky one,” Jongin adds, nudging you with his elbow. Seoyun certainly got a good one. “Speaking of lucky,” you start, craning your neck to search for said girl, “where’s S—”

“___!”

You are so kindly interrupted by your intoxicated boyfriend shouting for you across the room. Flushing in embarrassment and trying to ignore all the heads that turn in your direction at the sudden announcement of your arrival, you reclaim the Easter bread from Jongin’s arm, offering him an appreciative bow. “I’ll catch up with you later. Tell Seoyun I was looking for her.”

At his affirmative smile, you suck in a deep breath before spinning around and maneuvering your way to where Chanyeol and his mother stand by the oven. “I was wondering where you were,” he greets, setting his beer down to take the bread and soju from your hands before squashing your nose in a deep kiss that his mother and family really did not need to see. Blinking at him in surprise, you don’t even bother asking him what the hell that was about and turn toward Mrs. Park instead, who has just finished wiping her hands before opening her arms for you.

“It’s wonderful to see you, love,” she hums when you wholeheartedly accept her embrace, arms coming to wrap around her. “You too, Ma,” pulling back just enough to look at her with a brow raised, “I hope he helped you enough before he started drinking, or do I need to have a talk with him?”

She laughs, plucking up a wooden spoon to stir what looks like kimchi stew. “No, he helped a great deal. Vacuumed before anyone arrived and helped make a few things with his sister,” she explains, gaze lighting up when you pull the pack of glass noodles from the grocery bag. “Oh! Thank you so much, dear. I was so angry when I saw how little was in my bag,” then, turning to yell out over her guests, “Yura! Come finish your japchae!”

“Go grab something to drink, ___. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so, there’s plenty of appetizers out already. Thank you, again,” Mrs. Park grins brightly at you, squeezing your hand before returning to chopping vegetables. Crumbling the plastic grocery bag in your hand, you turn to Chanyeol who appears to be deep in conversation with a couple standing across from him, but you can tell by the way he keeps grazing over the appetizers on the counter next to him and avoiding eye contact that he is in desperate need of an escape. This being said, he still jolts in surprise when you return to his side, one hand curling around his bicep as the other glides down his arm to intertwine your fingers with his. The woman droning on pauses her chatter at this, the corner of her lip twitching up and she takes this as her cue to move on, offering the two of you a wink before dragging her husband, assumingly, out to the back patio.

“Ugh, thank you,” Chanyeol grins once the door shuts behind them, looking down at you with puckered lips, “I missed you.” Snorting, you let go of his arm to move to the now open spot beside him, eyeing all the pickies laid out in front of you. “Was going to make fun of you, but I missed you, too, so it looks like we’re both clowns,” you sigh, grabbing a fork to stab into a slice of mozzarella. Chanyeol stays quiet, opting to fondly watch you instead, smile only growing when you try one of everything. “Oh,” you remember, pausing to swallow the last bit of spicy chicken, “I’m glad you found a jacket. You look great.” You kiss the tips of your fingers, waving them just for emphasis.

Chanyeol’s grin is instantaneous, stretching his arms in front of him and literally checking himself out in front of you. You’re not judging, of course— if you looked half as good as him all the time, you would do the same. Plus, navy does wonders against his skin tone. “Thank you,” arm curling around you, he gives your side an affectionate squeeze, “you don’t look too bad yourself.”

Smiling at his compliment, you continue to make your way through the appetizers. Plucking up a cube of cheese, it isn’t until you have bitten half do you realize your mistake. “Ew,” you cough, sticking your tongue out as if that will rid your taste buds of the sharp provolone flavor. Nose wrinkling, you hold the other half out to him, “Here, you like fancy shit like this.” What you certainly do not expect is for him to go right ahead and bite the cheese straight from your fingers, lips just barely wrapping around your thumb. Despite the way your stomach swoops at the action and the way he stands back to his full height, lids hooded and gaze dark, your first instinct is to look around you, heart racing at the thought of one of Chanyeol’s aunts or uncles watching him eat cheese from between your fingers. Christ, it sounds even worse when you think about it.

Swallowing past the sudden dryness in your throat, you tell yourself you know this dance— you know how to handle Chanyeol just as much as he knows how to handle you. Slowly turning back to him, all you offer is a challenging rise of your brow before reaching for a different cheese, trying to ignore the way your pulse races just by having him close.

As you search for a cracker, perhaps even a pretzel, you see from the corner of your eye how disgruntled he is with your reaction, considering you with a flare of his nostrils and a pout of his bottom lip. Plan B, it is.

Squeezing your side harder, Chanyeol leans in close this time, brushing hair away from your ear with his other hand before whispering, “Nice skirt.” Now, this certainly nurses a much better effect, the richness and deepness of his voice alone dripping like chocolate into the very core of your being. It’s only a two-word compliment, yet you practically choke on your mouthful of food. When he tugs at the hem of the plaid wool skirt you wear, two thoughts momentarily cross your mind: 1) the compliment is nice, especially since you were worried it was a bit shabby looking but 2) he may just be saying that to get a rise out of you.

“Thanks,” you murmur, summoning the courage to slide your palm from the waistband of his slacks, all the way up his chest to finally cup his jaw before standing on your tippy-toes, pushing yourself to meet his ear. The ball is in your court, now. “Bet you’d like it better if it was off, no?”

You don’t miss the way his breath hitches, grip on your waist tugging you closer and you distantly hope it simply looks at if the two of you are deep in conversation. Over cheese and whatnot, of course. “Don’t tempt me, ___,” Chanyeol hisses, “I’ve fucked you with my family just beyond a door, you know I’d gladly take you on the counter right now for everyone to see your pretty pussy.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Alarms. Panic. Shit, now you’re wet. What have you started? Maybe you don’t know how to handle Chanyeol as well as you think— he undoubtedly has your tongue tied now. You can’t even begin to think of a response that doesn’t involve tearing off the lace shirt you spent so long ironing for him to fulfill such an alluring threat. He must feel how you tremble against him, heat burning from the inside out and suddenly he’s withdrawing, regarding you with his own challenging brow raise, eyes dark with hunger as he awaits your response.

“Hey, Chanyeol! Stop hiding ___ from me!”

The relief you feel comes in cooling waves, jerking you out of your trance and you turn just in time to see Seoyun stop in front of you, finger jabbing into Chanyeol’s chest. “Can’t you back off for like, two seconds?” She barks, oblivious to his heavy breaths. Then, pulling Jongin who was hidden behind her to Chanyeol’s side, “You two, meet. Talk. Do the bro thing while I drink some mimosas with my girl.” Oh, good. You sure could use one of those. Or two. Or three.

Chanyeol puts his arms up in defense, glancing at Jongin who only shrugs in identical stupefaction. “Perfect! Okay, see you guys later. Don’t bother us, we have girl things to talk about,” Seoyun threatens, shooting a second cold glare to Chanyeol before softening up and smiling softly. Then, she’s dragging you toward the back door, hardly giving you time to look back at Chanyeol.

When you do, you know that threat won’t be forgotten easily.

After ‘dinner’ sometime around three-thirty, the hours start to blend together, four turning to six, and then all of a sudden, it’s eight o’clock. Family gatherings seemingly always go like this—when you were kids, this was time spent running around outside, about the house, playing games or opening presents (depending on the occasion). Now, this is when things mellow down; from chugging mimosas with Seoyun in the backyard, you now opt for wine, just to seem sophisticated, and the atmosphere is much calmer. Peak adulting, right here.

While many family and friends leave once the post-dinner sleepiness fades, close relatives remain, gathering together and using the time to share stories and life updates. These are always your favorite times with the Parks. And even though Chanyeol is on probation, sitting on another sofa across the room for the stunt he pulled earlier—no, the other stunt, where he held your thigh during dinner but kept inching up until his fingers brushed along your panties when his aunt was sitting right next to you—tonight, in particular, has been one of the best nights spent with your second family.

Every so often, usually when you are PMSing, a dreadful thought enters your mind and always returns whenever you are with Chanyeol’s family: you love them just as much as you love him. It was Seoyun, not Chanyeol, who introduced you to them first, and you have spent more than a decade growing up with them. It goes without explanation that you consider them as your own family now, too. So, what if you and Chanyeol broke up? You are an adult now, so it’s not like Seoyun would ask you to join her for the company like she had when you were kids, and it wouldn’t make sense for Chanyeol’s parents or aunts and uncles or grandparents to invite you… You would not only lose Chanyeol, but your family, too, and that’s enough to make any grown woman cry.

So, looking around the living room full of many people you have grown to love, you try to make the best of it. Not that you think you and Chanyeol are going to break up, no, but it is an inescapable fear that you will never be able to simply ignore.

But you can brush it aside for right now, at least— especially when you are curled into Mrs. Park’s side with Seoyun’s head on your lap.

“Are you guys gonna get married?” Your best friend asks, completely out of the blue. You just finished ranking your favorite teas, now we’re talking about marriage? “Um,” you cough, glancing up to Ma for help but she’s looking at you with an identical expectant rise of her brows. Must be a Park thing. Christ, what is this, the girl’s gossip table in fourth period lunch? Still… are you going to get married? You can’t necessarily answer that on your own. You have no idea what Chanyeol is planning for his future, sure, you’d like to get married, but you are also not in any rush, and—

“Yes,” is what you say, before your mind has even caught up. “Wait!” You quickly add on, smacking a palm to your forehead. Then, “Yes… I’d like to get married. But I don’t know if he wants to, and even if he does, we’re in no rush, he’s been busy producing and…” Trailing off, your gaze has somehow wound up to the ceiling, and when you glance back to them, their features have noticeably softened, eyes glossy with joy.

“I love him, a lot,” you say, quieter, gentler this time, zoning in on Chanyeol across the room and his pretty smile and the way the whole room seems to light up when he laughs. “If he wants to get married, I’ll marry him. And if he doesn’t… well, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait forever, for him.”

“My boy is more than in love with you, ___. You’re his whole world,” Mrs. Park says and when you tilt your head up at her, the look in her eyes suddenly makes you want to cry. Again. It’s from the wine, you tell yourself. “If he doesn’t put a ring on it soon, I’m gonna fuck his shit up,” Seoyun snaps, the alcohol in her system clearly doing the talking here as she stares absentmindedly up at the popcorn ceiling. Laughing, you slap a hand over your mouth, expecting Ma to reprimand her niece for such language in front of her. Instead, she joins in and soon enough, the combined laughter from the three of you has all of your earlier worries washed away.

“What’s so funny, ladies?” It’s Mr. Park here to interrupt this time, an amused smile forcing a dimple in his left cheek. “Ah, nothing, honey,” Ma coughs out one last giggle before reaching for her husband’s hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Just making fun of Yeol.”

“Oh, my favorite. What did he do this time?”

“He hasn’t asked ___ to marry him yet,” Seoyun pipes up from your lap, head tilting further back so she can look at her uncle.

“Why do I keep hearing my name over there?” Chanyeol shouts, leaning up far too quickly from his relaxed position and you can tell by the way his head bobbles that he has had one too many drinks with his uncles and cousins. Looks like you better slow down if you want to get home safely. “Because you’re paranoid!” You shout back, scrunching your nose at him because you know he knows you’re right. Frowning, he motions with two fingers that he will be watching you before returning to his own conversation.

“So, you met Jongin,” Seoyun starts once Mr. and Mrs. Park have fallen into a separate discussion beside you. You’ve had this conversation twice, already, but you don’t mind having it again.

“I have,” you hum, softly adjusting the weight of her head on your thighs so you can sit more comfortably, “I can’t believe you guys have been friends since university and this is the first time I’m meeting him.”

“Well… it’s not like we hung out all that much. We haven’t been in touch for a while,” Seoyun mumbles, eyelids fluttering closed once you begin combing through her hair.

“I refuse to believe that. There’s no way you would have given up a man that good-looking.”

“Hey!” She grumbles, smacking your knee. “He was abroad senior year! And then life just kind of took over. He had a girlfriend for a while after graduation, too. We only started talking again when I bumped into him in Target last year.”

“Mhm, sure,” you hum, looking up to find him. Your heart does somersaults once you find him seated on the same sofa as Chanyeol, cool as a cucumber compared to how overwhelmed he seemed earlier. “I’m happy he seems so comfortable with the family. I’m happy for you, too.”

The playful gleam in her eyes softens as she leans up, sitting up to face you properly. Then, squeezing your hands, “I’m happy, too. Ever since you and Chanyeol started dating… I wanted what you had so, so bad. And I know we’ve only been together for five months, but I’ve never been so happy with someone.”

“Do you love him?” You whisper, searching her face when she turns to look at Jongin across the room. You can see it— the look in her eyes, the complete and utter adoration and admiration. You see it because you’ve felt it, too. You’ve felt it looking at Chanyeol, and you’ve felt it when he looks at you.

“I do. I love him a lot, actually,” Seoyun finally admits, turning back to you and for the first time in years, you see genuine tears trail down her cheeks. “Oh, no,” you hush, dabbing under her eyes to make sure her mascara doesn’t run, “shh, don’t cry. I know they’re happy tears but your makeup looks too good for that.” Pulling her into a hug, you cradle her head into your shoulder and hope no one is looking at her strangely.

“I know,” Seoyun hiccups, squeezing you tightly, “I’m just so drunk and happy for you and for me, I couldn’t help it.”

Laughing, you push her back before cupping her cheeks, wiping at the stray tears. “It’s alright. Crying when you’re happy is a good thing. It means you’re doing something right, Seoyun.” Smiling despite the wetness of her cheeks, she straightens up, dabbing away tears under her chin before cupping your face as well. “Thank you for being such an amazing best friend all these years,” Seoyun says, reaching forward and planting a hefty kiss to your lips, “but I think it’s time for us to go home. Show Jongin how much I really love him.”

When she stands, you’re still trying to process the unexpected kiss she just gave you but brush it aside for now, considering you’ve kissed plenty of times in your years of friendship. “Alright,” standing up after her, you give her one last hug, “text me when you get home.”

“I will. You have a good night too, ___. Chanyeol’s been eating you up alive for the past hour,” winking, Seoyun finally turns away to bid her farewells to the rest of her family. Speaking of Chanyeol… you step around Seoyun and make your way toward him, desperately trying to ignore the way his gaze travels slowly up your approaching form.

“Hey,” he greets when you reach him, tugging you by the wrist to sit on his lap. Luckily, the family surrounding him are turned the opposite direction toward the television, leaving your intimacy to go unnoticed. “Hi,” you return, arm draping over his shoulders and fingers burying into his hair. “You ready to head home?” Chanyeol asks, arms wrapping around you to pull you closer so he can nestle into the crook of your shoulder. “I’m ready when you are,” humming, you take to tracing patterns against the skin of his neck, resting your head atop his as your eyelids threaten to flutter shut.

Reaching for your other hand, Chanyeol brings it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “Y’know, nothing makes me happier than seeing you cozied up with my mom.”

“Well, I think she was pretty impressed by our fantastic Easter bread.”

Snorting, he brings his head back to look at you. “It was pretty good,” he agrees. Then, cradling your jaw, “But it’s more than that. Having the two most important women in my life get along so well means so much to me, ___.” Bringing you closer, Chanyeol finally kisses you, soft and slow and when your eyes close, you feel right back at home, warm all over and overflowing with ardor. “Come on,” nuzzling the tip of your nose with his, “finish your drink and then let’s go home.”

“We need to plan things more often. Mom and I want to see you more than once a month,” was the last thing Mr. Park said to you before you left for the night.

“I love you very much, sweetie. Keep in touch,” Ma had whispered in your ear as you hugged her goodbye.

This is all you can think about as you drive home. Chanyeol was much drunker than he led on, so with him knocked out in the passenger seat, head against the window, you’re left to your own thoughts. The soft lo-fi Chanyeol begged to put on the radio before he passed out doesn’t help, either, but the overall peace and quiet is enough to have you dwelling over your night.

This week leading up to Easter has been especially rainy, too, and even now as you lower the cruise control to sixty-five, hazy rain begins to set on the windshield. Switching on the wipers, you steal a quick glance to Chanyeol who stirs once you move back into the middle lane. And as much as you want to reach over and hold his hand, you don’t want to disturb him.

Maybe it has to do with all the time spent catching up with Seoyun, but you’re left in an overly nostalgic, sentimental mood.

There was quite a lot of talk about love tonight. What Mrs. Park and Seoyun dumped on you about marriage certainly threw you off. Sure, you definitely have imagined marriage and Chanyeol in the same picture, but it was never a topic either of you openly discussed. It just never came up. Despite the fact you have been dating for over two years, sometimes it feels as if you’re still in the honeymoon stage with how perfect things have been. You’ve had your fair share of fights, sure, but nothing ever large enough to have you questioning your relationship. Your mother always told you living together, managing finances together, and raising a child together (Toben) is the true test of love.

But you and Chanyeol have done all that already. You’ve been living together for quite some time, and there’s nothing he does that makes you want to rip your hair out like some couples seem to experience. And, while he does tease you over little habits, he has never mentioned something that seriously infuriates him, either. The two of you share everything at this point, and you can’t imagine marriage seriously making all that of a difference.

Just the life-long commitment.

But when you look at him now, you realize there is no other way you would want to live out the rest of your life. You can’t imagine ever finding someone after Chanyeol, someone you could possibly love more— as you’ve said from the get-go, it’s always been him. From the time you first thought he was cute in sixth grade, to senior year when you realized you loved him, to Christmas two years ago, to now, there’s no one else you would or could ever devote yourself to.

It’s always been him, and it will be forever.

“Chanyeol,” you whisper, then, realizing such gentleness will not wake the giant, you reach over to pat his thigh. “Chanyeol, we’re almost home.”

Chanyeol grumbles, a deep, growling noise that supports just how far gone he is. “What time is it?” He asks groggily, stretching his long limbs and cracking his neck from side to side. “Almost ten,” you hum in reply, quickly glancing to the time on the dash before taking one last turn onto the street of your apartment complex. It’s strange to see the city so dead on a Sunday night.

“___,” Chanyeol groans somewhere behind you as you hurriedly make your way through the parking lot. It was not this cold earlier. “Why are you walking so fast? I thought heels made people slow.” Stopping, you look down to your high boots, realizing that in your rush to get inside you had not even realized just how sore the bottom of your feet are. “I’m cold,” you whine back, bouncing on your toes and crossing your arms in an attempt to contain some body heat as Chanyeol sluggishly makes his way toward you. Maybe if you hold his hand or something he’ll move quicker.

“Come on,” you mumble, intertwining your fingers with his and tugging him along.

You don’t get there any quicker.

You barely manage to open the door with the way Chanyeol clings, hugging from behind and nearly tripping you with those clumsy feet of his. “Chanyeol,” you whine for at least the fifth time, borderline annoyed but watching him scowl at the eight stairs he has to climb like they’re some sort of math problem is quite amusing. “Come on, you big baby,” you decide to meet him halfway, reaching out for his hand and hauling him up with you. When you finally make it to the top, he’s reduced you to a giggling mess and uses it to his advantage, pushing you toward the wall.

“I’m not a baby,” he huffs, breath heavy with the amount of effort he just had to exert. “Yes, you are. C’mon, when we get inside, I’ll swaddle you in your favorite blankie and read you a bedtime story,” you taunt. Still, you find yourself spreading your legs just a tad wider for him to slot his thigh in between, his nostrils flared and frown deep as he towers over you, caging you in.

He chooses not to verbally reply. Instead, one rough hand anchors itself to your waist while the other slides to cup the side of your neck, thumb tilting your chin up to meet him. No matter how much alcohol may run in your systems, kissing Chanyeol will always be the one constant neither of you could ever miscalculate. It simply is an all too familiar doing, one you’ve spent days and weeks and months practicing until it became a subconscious reaction. It is a beginning and an end, your unraveling and your reawakening, an elixir that creeps its way into the very marrow of your bones and blossoms like a spring flower in your lungs.

You intended to string him along until sobriety finally brought him to his senses, but you think this is manageable, something to tease and dangle over his head before deserting him despite the way every fiber of your being craves for him. You can picture it— the confused anger flashing in his eyes when you push him away to continue down the hallway, fire in his veins dwindling to nothing but embers as you discard him for the third time tonight. And so, you press into him with equal force, desperately clawing to have him closer and swallowing his gasp when your tongue slips past the seam of his lips. Despite the heavy taste of liquor on his tongue, Chanyeol finds this rejuvenating, finally, he has you, fist bunching into the fabric of your shirt as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth. He turns into something fierce, addicted to your taste and your touch when your fingers toy with the tips of his ears before raking through his hair and, suddenly, you feel as if you have lost the upper hand.

The hand cupping your jaw drops, trailing dangerously down the side of your thigh before wrapping around your knee to hike your leg around his hip. It is when he presses into you, growing erection doing nothing against the thick fabric of your skirt but still alarmingly there does the steadfastness of your plan falter, the idea of bunching your skirt up to your waist and letting him fuck you right there at the top of the staircase seeming all too tempting.

When he moves to press a sloppy kiss below your jaw, then on the other side of your neck, it buys you enough time to gather your thoughts. Because even though the nip of his teeth and the warmth of his tongue against your skin has wetness pooling between your thighs, it is not nearly as distracting as his mouth on yours. “Chanyeol,” you gasp still, fingers digging into his arms to ground yourself. He merely hums in reply, kissing his way down the column of your throat as he gives your right breast a firm squeeze. Your head thuds against the wall the farther you tilt back, granting him more access and breathing coming in sporadic bursts. It takes quite the strength, but, with the mental image of what’s to come once you actually make it inside encouraging you to do so, you gently push him back at last.

First, worry flashes across his face, suddenly fearing that he has somehow hurt you. But when the side of your mouth ever so slightly tips upward and you step around him to advance further down the hall, there is a mixture of betrayal and frustration flaring in his veins but overpowering desire, too, because he simply loves this game you’ve decided to play.

Racing to unlock your apartment before he can catch up, you excitedly jam the key into the knob just as Chanyeol has reached you, arms circling your waist to spin you around. “You’re driving me crazy,” he groans, guiding you into the apartment and kicking the door closed behind him. As soon as it clicks shut he is back on you, forcing you against the wall because he knows you like it that way, knows you like it rough and knows you like his manhandling. “Yeah?” You ask, though it comes out more like a hiss when he continues his assault on your neck like he never stopped, further bruising the delicate skin there and causing your heart rate to steadily pick up. “How so?”

Ignoring your innocent inquiry, Chanyeol returns to your mouth, tongue battling against your own as he pulls you flush against him, sandwiched between his sturdy chest and the wall. His other hand travels delicately beneath the hem of your shirt, palm burning impossibly warmer against the heat of your skin and it isn’t until he brushes the underwire of your bra does he pull back, satisfied with the way your lips swell. Then, leaning close so his breath fans over your ear, he whispers, “You’ve been rather naughty all night.”

You don’t tremble like he expects you to. You don’t stare back at him with wide, hungry eyes like he expects you to. In fact, you don’t react at all like he expects you to. Instead, you seem to snap out of your lustful daze, eyeing him with a rise of your brow and the straightening of your posture.

“I’ve been naughty?” You scoff, finger jabbing into his chest and, from the total one-eighty in your demeanor alone, Chanyeol stumbles back. “I think you’re mixed up.” Like a puppy desperate for your affection, he cautiously follows you out of the foyer and into the living room.

“I don’t think I was the one who offered to fuck you in front of all your family, or had my hand down your pants during dinner, now, was I?” You sneer at him, struggling to walk to the bedroom while simultaneously zipping down and kicking off your boots. “I—”

Chanyeol begins, taking a hesitant step after you. Beyond the harshness of your words, he knows this is all part of your game, and it’s turning him on more than he’d like to admit, especially when you won’t let him touch you. “No,” you cut him off, standing in the doorway and watching with a stifled smile as he slowly edges closer, “you, sir, need to drink some water before coming any closer. Sober up, think about what you did tonight, and maybe I’ll consider forgetting it happened.” “___,” Chanyeol whines and you almost expect him to stomp his feet like a child, “you’re killing me.”

“Good. Now you know how I’ve felt all night,” flicking the light on, you set your boots down by the closet and keep your eyes trained on him, assuring he stays put, “go on, then. Don’t look so sad, water’s in the kitchen. I need to wash up.” And with that, you retreat into the bathroom, locking the door behind you and trying to erase Chanyeol’s pout from your mind.

In all seriousness— you really do want to wash your face. The thought of having to get up later or even falling asleep with makeup on makes you shudder, and so, you take your grand old time treating your skin, just to make him suffer awhile longer. As you are scrubbing your face over the sink, you hear Toben bark, followed by the soft clinking of his leash. Seconds later, the front door opens and slams closed.

Good, you think, feeling triumphant. Patting your face dry with a towel, you give yourself a once over before swiping a cotton round wet with toner over your skin, simultaneously trying to calm your nerves while also conjuring up what is to come.

God, he really has had you riled up since his first words in his parent’s kitchen, you realize with a cringe as you quickly undress, tossing your clothes into the hamper. Slipping into your simple bathrobe, you turn the overhead lights off in favor of the much softer bedside lamp before flopping belly side down on your bed. Instantaneously, images of Chanyeol flash into your mind, first, simply how godly he looked tonight, tall and lean and yours, then, the look in his eyes when he whispered about fucking you in the kitchen, and later, the teasing drag of his fingers against your panties. All of a sudden, you feel inflamed with desire, clenching around nothing at the thought of such long fingers burying inside of you.

Breathless, you reach for your phone, desperate for a distraction. Seoyun, you remember, clicking on her text from earlier confirming she was home. Sending a few hearts back, you have just opened Instagram and liked a studio picture from Jongdae when the front door opens, Toben’s yapping signaling for a new swarm of butterflies in your gut. Outside of the bedroom walls, you hear Chanyeol’s shoes clunk against the wall as he chucks them off, Toben’s leash unhooking, the living room lights being flicked off. Then, the steady footsteps as he nears your room.

“Can I come in?” He asks from the doorway, the rumble of his voice making a home in your heart.

Chuckling, you turn to look over your shoulder at him. “Yes.”

Stretching to plug your phone in on the table, you realize he’s still playing it careful, managing to only close the door behind him and set a bottle of water on the dresser. “Come here,” you invite at his lack of an advance. He seems startled, an internal battle raging in his heart as he wants nothing more than to jump into bed beside you, but also fears that you will string him along once more. So, he approaches slowly, choosing to sit by the foot of the bed and refusing to look at you, instead leaning over to yank his socks off.

Suppressing a grumble of protest at his distance, you struggle to sit back on your haunches, fingers moving to quickly untie the front of your robe. Chanyeol visibly relaxes as you make your way over, scooting further back to allow more space when you swing one leg across his lap in order to settle on his thighs. His Adam’s apple bops seeing you are totally bare, robe just barely covering your breasts. Avoiding eye contact just yet, you lean forward, pressing a delicate kiss below his ear and humming in appreciation when he tilts his head for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper after having your own turn of marking his soft skin, palms sliding over his chest to push his jacket from his shoulders, no matter how alluring he looks in it. “To be completely honest, I really just wanted to wash my face.” Furrowing your eyebrows in concentration, you make slow work at the buttons of his shirt next. “And,” you add, lowering the volume of your voice as if telling a secret only he’s allowed to hear, “I wasn’t in the mood for drunk sex. I’ve been wet for you since four o’clock. I wanted to savor tonight, yeah?”

Once you’ve popped the last button open, pushed the soft fabric from his shoulders and littered his exposed skin with soft kisses, you finally lift your gaze to his face, heart nearly stopping beneath the darkening of his stare. Just like that, Chanyeol sees it as his cue to take over, pouncing like a cat on its prey, opening your mouth with his own and bringing you closer with a firm grip on your ass. “I should have just fucked you when I had the chance,” he practically growls, pulling his arms out from his shirt and jacket and pushing the robe from your shoulders, hands cold from being outside and summoning goosebumps to rise along your skin.

One such hand slides up your spine before wrapping around your nape to tilt you back, body curved to give him room to duck down and kiss along your collarbones, sucking harshly at your skin to assure deep purple marks by morning before enveloping a nipple between his teeth. “Ah,” you hiss, nails digging crescents into his arms as you grind down on him, “I wouldn’t have been able to look your parents in the eyes if you did,” then, choking on a moan as he rolls your other hardened bud between his calloused fingers, “plus, I still would have been thinking about your fingers all night.”

Chanyeol groans, releasing your nipple with a soft pop. “My fingers, huh? What about them?” He hums with faux innocence, securing a grip on your thighs before flipping you onto your back in order to hover above you. He doesn’t let you reply, however, latching his lips to yours and quite literally sucking all the air from your lungs with the way his tongue wraps around your own. “Yes,” you huff when he pulls back, fingers threading through pink hair and hips rising to brush against his when he begins his journey downward, “thinking about them stuffed inside me and— and then,” you stutter, back arching as he kisses his way straight down the column of your throat, the valley between your breasts, the swell of your stomach, simply sucking at the same marks he made yesterday, “and then, your dick.”

“See,” Chanyeol mutters with a click of his tongue, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear and shimmying them down your legs, “I know how dirty you are.”

“Yes,” you whimper, spreading your legs for him as he throws one over his shoulder, “you make my life really difficult like that.”

“I know, baby,” he hums, then, watching with a smirk as you jolt with him blowing cool air directly to your clit, “I always make it up to you, though.”

There simply is not enough time to think of a reply before Chanyeol has his mouth directly where you need him, flattening his tongue against your slit and licking upward, drawing a wanton moan deep from your throat. Relief, finally. Any witty reply quickly wiped from your brain, all you can focus on now is the warmth and wetness of his tongue, circling your clit before dipping between your folds.

“Chanyeol,” you rasp, one hand anchored into the comforter and the other clutching his hair to contain the way you quiver, “please.”

He hums, the vibration strumming right against you and winching the knot forming in your abdomen impossibly tighter. “Please what?”

“Fingers,” is all you manage to get out, seeing stars with the way he sucks at your clit. He wastes no time contemplating your helpless gasp, immediately shifting his position in order to grant such a wish. In fact, he wastes no time easing into things, either, pushing two fingers into your seeping cunt without so much as a warning. It tears a shaky moan from you, nerves aflame with the new but oh so welcome intrusion.

“Christ, ___,” Chanyeol hisses, immediately adding a third finger and pausing to watch his digits sink in to the knuckles, “your tight little cunt is practically sucking me in.” A shaking and gasping mess, all you can offer is a breathless yes, walls clenching in need of more friction. Sensing this, Chanyeol gets right back to work, hand rocking against you, fingers dragging in and out, rubbing upward and against that hidden gem of a spot. “Oh, God,” you keen, thighs reflexively squeezing the sides of his head when he swirls his tongue over your clit in all sorts of shapeless patterns before tightly sucking at it once more.

“That’s it, baby,” Chanyeol soothes as he forces your legs apart, eyes glued on the mess he’s made, juices smeared even at your thighs with the way his fingers curl into you before nearly pulling out entirely. “So greedy.”

“Chanyeol,” you whine, hips raising to follow the movements of his tongue when he returns to your clit, “so close.”

“Mhm,” he groans against you, insistently flicking at the bundle of nerves and adding his pinky finger to the stretch. Chanyeol relishes in the way you practically swell beneath him, nails scratching against his scalp at the addition and the way he scissors his fingers. It is with one last upward curl and draw of your clit between his lips does your orgasm hit you, an intense wave of heat that has you arching into him and red speckling your vision— even though your eyes are screwed shut. It takes several moments to come down from the high, core throbbing in the aftermath and nerves seemingly frayed at the force of it all.

And yet, he has not stopped.

“Chanyeol,” you gasp, voice taut as a result of your previous silent scream, “f-fuck. Christ, I can’t.”

Chanyeol only hums in reply, a mere dismissal as he knows you can handle it and is more than happy to continue. Pulling his fingers from your soaking cunt with a lewd squelch, he grasps your thighs and spreads them further, lapping hungrily at the messy aftermath of your orgasm. Ignoring the way your body shakes and the powerless mewls escaping your lips, Chanyeol continues right where he left off, this time, however, with his tongue stroking gently between your folds and his thumb drawing soft circles over the hood of your clit.

Given no time to settle, the inferno blazing within you quickly roars back to life once the near-painful sensitivity fades, leaving you subject to the overpowering pleasure pumping through your veins. “God, Chanyeol,” you whine, loosening your grasp on his hair once you realize the iron grip you were holding for the entirety of your climax, “f-fuck, you’re killing me.”

Smiling against you, Chanyeol begins to feel impatient, the restriction on his erection borderline painful. This being said, he picks up his tempo once more, one hand keeping your hips down while the other spreads open your folds, giving him unhindered accuracy to press his tongue against your clit, draw circles, triangles, figure-eights— before you’re coming undone in no time.

Biting your bottom lip to taper the near scream that threatens to tear from your throat, you have no choice with the way Chanyeol holds you down but to fall face-first into your climax, tumbling over the edge at an alarmingly fast rate. Your second orgasm comes much easier and much quicker, body still recovering from the first, and it leaves you simultaneously jerking away but locking him in. Chanyeol is just that good.

It almost feels as if you are floating through clouds as you come back to reality and part of you wonders if that orgasm lasted a few seconds or an hour. You can’t tell. But coming back down brings an onslaught of sensations; first, the complete and total mess in between your legs, the result of two orgasms sticking to your thighs like syrup. Second, the soothing massage Chanyeol rubs into your thighs and hips, fingers digging deep into your muscle and aiding in your return from Heaven, you think.

And third: Chanyeol still has his pants on.

“How are you?” He asks, lips curled into a smirk because he knows how good it was, but likes the validation. When all you offer is a small noise of protest, Chanyeol understands this to be your wordless way of asking him to come up, and he does so immediately. “I think I just saw God,” you say once he’s settled on his side next to you, cringing at the coarseness of your voice. With a dreamy sigh you smooth over his pectoral, the dip of his collarbone, the protruding tendon on his neck, before cradling his jaw and leaning over to press your lips to his.

Slow to start, you take ample time simply to savor him, the taste of you, and to show your appreciation for not one, but two orgasms. A renewed sense of urgency, however, appears to take over, and you suck in a heavy breath through your nose when Chanyeol pushes himself to hover above you, hand wrapping around your knee to throw your leg over his hip. Palms deserting their spot beneath his ears, you quickly make work to the button of his pants.

“Goddammit,” you hiss after several unsuccessful attempts, growing just as impatient as he and pulling back to focus on such button, then the zipper, “I hate buttons.” Laughing, Chanyeol leans up to tug his pants and boxers down his thighs, cock springing free against the toned panes of his stomach. “I can tell. Patience is a virtue, you know?” He teases, settling more comfortably between your spread legs and kicking the last of his clothes to the floor.

“Don’t you dare try talking to me about virtue when all I can think about is you rearranging my guts,” you grumble, eyes screwing shut and missing the way his eyes darken when he presses the head of his cock against your clit. “Purity is a virtue, too,” Chanyeol continues to tease, finally angling to your entrance and just barely pressing in, “I don’t think God would be too happy with that mouth of yours.”

“Please shut the fuck up and— ohh, shit,” before you can finish your sentence, Chanyeol has finally rolled forward, dragging past your walls and filling you to the brim in one flawless push. Then, once you have adjusted to the forever startling swell of his cock within you, “We can go to confession after you’ve fucked me.”

Chanyeol lets out a noise somewhere in between an amused snort and a groan, mind effectively having already gone off the deep end and focusing on the tightness of your slick cunt and that alone. “God, ___,” he hisses, drawing back to leave only a lonely inch within you before thrusting forward again, drawing a series of moans from your lips, “never get enough of your tight little pussy.”

“Uh-huh,” is all you manage, struggling to soundly wrap your legs around him with all your muscles reduced to jelly with him filling you so deliciously with every thrust. With the fire in your stomach roaring to life and consuming you whole once more, you will yourself not to come so soon, attempting to open your eyes after several futile blinks and focus on him. Perhaps this is not the best thing to do, however, considering the image of him glowing with a sheen of sweat, eyebrows furrowed, face flushed and hooded eyes boring holes into you only prompts you to tighten around him and ‘squeaking noises’ he always likes to tease you about to slip past your lips.

“God,” you whine, leaning up and placing a desperate kiss to his top lip but flopping back down at the uncomfortable angle, “God, I love you.” Chanyeol visibly softens at this, the sharp snapping in and out of you slowing into deeper, more languid strokes. “I love you more,” he sighs, brushing away hair that has stuck to your sticky skin before kissing you properly. There’s something different about this kiss— for you, at least. Perhaps it has to do with all the talk and sentiment of the night, but a feeling beyond your every day, established love seems to wash over you.

It leaves you gasping and licking into his mouth, desperately trying to cling to the feeling, to put a word to it until finally, you realize, it’s always been here and will forever stay. It seems to resonate in your core, not physically but in your soul, something beyond logic and more of an opening of a door to tranquil waters. It leaves you lightheaded, the staccato of his heart pressed against your skin and the connection of your bodies the only things keeping you grounded because this feeling, this overwhelming, beautiful feeling makes it seem as if you are the center of the universe, just as Chanyeol is the center of yours.

“I’m close,” he hisses, two simple words breaking into your satori and hurling you back into the euphoria that fizzes up your spine and fills your bones. “Me too,” you gasp, breathless from the loaded emotion heavy on your mind and your heart and the quickening of his cock, brushing at the deepest part within at every stroke. It has your head falling back, eyes rolling and back arching when you squeeze around him, muscles contracting with such overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins like electric waves.

“I love you,” you repeat when you fall into your third orgasm, eyes squeezing shut despite your best efforts at keeping them open in order to watch as Chanyeol, too, reaches his high and comes into you with a harsh stutter and load groan. It simply is so powerful you practically feel as if you have just been brought back from the dead, body bucking beneath him like a whip as the toe-curling feeling explodes within you like a firework show. Chanyeol seems to share in such experience, usually not the most vocal but he can’t seem to keep to labored breathing, biting into your shoulder as his seed comes in hot spurts inside of you. You say it every time, but this, truthfully, was the best orgasm of your life.

It takes several moments, minutes, even, to come down from your highs, bodies seemingly in overdrive with such a feeling warming you from your head to your toes. But, just as all good things come to an end, you eventually force your eyes open once you’ve gotten over feeling as if you might pop, blinking past the tears that at some point accumulated. Chanyeol has his forehead rested against your shoulder, heavy inhales and exhales slowly calming as his heart, too, returns to its normal beat. It isn’t until you raise a weak hand to stroke his hair does he tilt his head to look at you, eyes shining like stars with the tired smile he gives you.

Brushing mused pink bangs from his eyes, you crane your neck to kiss his forehead, his nose, and finally his lips before letting your head fall back with a sigh. He returns your affection with a gentle kiss to your shoulder, shakily leaning up to pull his now flaccid cock out of your raw cunt. He’s quick to move, however, fingers coming to press against your folds as if to plug any of his cum from leaking out. You twitch, still way too sensitive and you mentally cringe at the thought of going again— to be frank, you’re pooped.

Still, you lie there quietly, body cooling down as Chanyeol continues to stare as if daring your cunt to let any of his seed slip. After a few more silent moments of this, however, you force yourself to lean up, knowing if you stay like that for any longer, you’d be asleep in minutes. Chanyeol lets out a quiet grunt of protest as such movement causes the smallest gush, fingers swiping against your folds to collect your mixed cum before pushing it back in with the gentlest touch. You sigh at the feeling, clutching at his arm and suddenly, a part of you wishes you weren’t on birth control.

“I felt you,” Chanyeol finally says, voice tight as if he hasn’t used it in years. Such an ambiguous statement, but fortunately, you know what he means without needing him to explain it. You only nod at first, searching his face and finding only the utmost truth. With a gentle hand tracing his jaw, you move in closer to press a soft kiss to his lips before curling into his side. “And I felt you.”

Chanyeol thinks he would look ‘strikingly handsome’ with pink hair, wearing his blue contacts and his baby blue tie.

You think he would look just as handsome as a brunette, without the contacts, and a matching grey bow tie.

Chanyeol thinks you’re lame and just petty because you wouldn’t be able to tie his tie when he gets dressed.

However, with blonde hair slicked back, just his prescription contacts, and baby blue tie, he also happens to think you are strikingly beautiful walking up the aisle. So much so, by the time you are there in front of him, he already has tears streaming down his face.

With your hands in his, you think this kind of love lasts forever.

[doof-doofblog]

"I Promised ... I Promised!"

Double Episode Post

Thursday 1st April 2021 - Friday 2nd April 2021

Hello everyone! Hope you've all had a brilliant Easter Weekend! Today is going to be another double episode post in an attempt to catch up! I know there's a lot to discuss, but first I want to give a shout out to @estimebongu98 for sending me some brilliant EastEnders related questions to answer over the weekend, can't thank you enough for reaching out and asking me some opinions on your favourite storyline! If anyone else feels happy enough to send me a message then please feel free!

Anyway back to the matter in hand, the first thing I want to mention is Iqra and Mila. Kim appears to be doing everything she can to get her new business aspect into the public eye. She is completely convinced that she's managed to get couples together, such as Peter & Ash and Iqra & Mila. After getting a photographer to the Prince Albert to take photos of her and hear her story, Kim calls Iqra over, claiming that she's needed urgently. Poor Iqra is clueless about Kim's actual actions. Iqra is understandably confused and a little irritated by Kim's actions when she arrives - technically Iqra and Mila aren't even a couple as of yet and Kim is claiming that she's brought them together!

After some persuasion, Iqra agrees to do an interview for Kim's business, and even happens to volunteer Mila so they end up doing it together, at first Mila isn't too keen but then agrees. What harm could it do it really? Well, as Iqra gets herself dolled up for the interview it seems that they'll also be getting their pictures taken also, getting in front of the camera, Kim instructs Iqra to do all these sorts of poses, but to no avail. As Mila enters, Iqra is visibly happy to see her appear, they both acknowledge how pretty the other one looks. But suddenly as the photographer takes pictures of them without their knowledge, Mila seems pretty adamant that he deletes the picture! Her attitude almost completely changes, much to Iqra's surprise! The photographer unfortunately refuses to delete it, claiming that the natural pictures are the best, but poor Mila almost demands him to get rid of the picture. This really intrigued me though, there's obviously a reason for her not wanting pictures taken, why does it bother her so much?! What is her story?!

Later, Iqra seems to think that it's her fault that Mila left so quickly! However Kim seems to put her at ease, if she's so eager to get to know Mila more and understand why she left, then she needs to reach out to her and call her. Kim insists that she can sense they have feelings for each other, and if there's any truth in it, she encourages Iqra to act on her feelings. Eventually Iqra catches up with Mila and to be fair, she's pretty straight with her from the beginning, she admits that she likes her but also claims that she's fearful of being in the same situation as she was with Ash, asking herself whether she had done anything wrong and informs Mila that she can't go back to being like that. It's then that Mila admits that Iqra has done nothing wrong and she actually happens to like her too - now this is where Mila finally opens up and we learn a lot more about her - she admits that Mila isn't in fact her real name. She explains that she first realised she was gay when she was a teenager but when she told her family about having feelings for a girl, they laughed in her face and ended up throwing her out - simply because her family didn't "believe" in it! It's sad to realise that Mila has basically disowned by her family simply because of her sexual orientation. Of course Iqra is deeply sympathetic and apologises for dragging her into the interview, but Mila claims it's not her fault - how could she have known?! But with Iqra appreciating Mila being open and honest with her, could this seriously be a new relationship on the cards for the two ladies?!

--

The next thing I have to mention is Bobby! After a horrendous first date a little while back, Bobby is determined to get himself back out there, unfortunately it is under a completely different name, considering he changed his name on his dating app, in fear of people finding out who he really is and finding out about his past. I love how dressed up he's gotten for the occasion, and it looks as if both Kathy and Kim try to give him some advice - which I have to say was a brilliant scene!

Going completely off track they begin to discuss men's flaws, just as Bobby is sitting there between them listening to everything they tell him. You just have to laugh and say "Poor Bobby!" as his Nan and neighbour discuss the different things that men do to women. Just to make him feel that little more awkward, Kathy urges him that if he's just meeting his date for sex then make sure she doesn't end up getting pregnant. Poor Bobby is traumatised and claims he hasn't even met the poor girl yet! In a way, I guess it was Kathy's version of the "Birds And The Bees" story for Bobby!

However, taking his Nan's advice, feeling a little insecure, Bobby visits the Minute Mart and purchases a packet of condoms - much to Suki's amusement, which of course leaves him feeling just a little bit more insecure as he rushes out of the shop. All I have to say about the matter is, why do men find it embarrassing for purchasing condoms? Buying condoms and sanitary products should not be embarrassing, they are a part of every day life and it should be normalised for people to buy the items without feeling any kind of awkwardness or embarrassment. Please tell me you guys agree?!  

Eventually, Bobby makes it to his date and things appear to be going well. Only the first thing that grabbed my attention was that Dana admitted that she has no sense of taste or smell and that her Dad believed she may have caught Covid-19, but she never took a test to make sure. After all that Bobby has been through trying to make sure himself and his family are safe from the virus, would it be mad for me to suggest that Bobby could end up catching the virus from Dana?! I'm sure you'll remember he was almost religiously washing his hands and cleaning surfaces. What if after all that caution, he catches Coronavirus from his date?!

Also it appears that Dana is calling Bobby by the name "Rob" - of course this is the name he changed his profile to. Is this going to be some kind of alter ego for Bobby? Only because I happened to notice how confident he looked during his date, he didn't seem nervous as the previous one and he didn't stumble over his words. Could this give Bobby some kind of comfort blanket in a way? If he can't be Bobby for his date's, he could be "Rob" instead? It's an interesting thought - maybe I am getting a little carried away, but I think with his past it would make complete sense. What do you think?! It's fair to say that "Rob" has a successful date as reveals she likes him and would like to see him again!

--

The next thing I have to mention is Frankie and Mick! After the events of the previous day, she voices her concerns to Linda, claiming that it was a bad idea for her to move into the Vic. However, Linda insists that Mick needs her a lot more than they realise, she claims that once Mick has been to court and spoken out about his abuse, he'll be proud to call Frankie his daughter! Meanwhile Mick appears to have his meeting with his support worker and it's here that he's informed that 4 other men have come forward reporting that they are also victims of Katy.

Understandably, Mick is completely thrown back by this, he is completely stunned and overwhelmed by the news, especially after admitting that he's trying to make things work with Frankie, considering she's his daughter. It needs to be pointed out that it's not Frankie's fault what her Mother did, she is also a victim just like Mick. Why should Mick have to hide her identity, I mean I understand he doesn't feel ready for people and his neighbours to know about his abuse, but why should Frankie have to suffer?! He clearly wants to have a relationship with her, but he does appear to be finding it hard.

As he gets home he informs both Frankie and Linda about what he's learnt, devastatingly his concerns get the better of him and he admits he doesn't think he can stand up in court. Does Frankie maybe feel like she is in some way to blame? Is she the reason why he won't stand up in court? She eventually finds herself at McKlunky's and Stuart spots her from the other side of the room. In an attempt of giving her a peace offering, he places some chicken in front of her, Frankie is clearly spooked - especially after the way he treated her last time he approached her. But Stuart is calm, collected and kind and informs her that for a brief moment, the way she looked reminded him of how Mick looked as a kid. This seems to really move Frankie and she begins to listen to Stuart. He informs her that Mick is going through this court case simply for her, even though he's struggling. He tells her that she kind of needs to meet him in the middle and try and support him, do something in return for him to help him cope with the court case, gently placing a brown paper bag in front of her, he claims a nice sugary treat would help Mick.

It looks as if Stuart's words play on Frankie's mind, she returns home with the sugary treat from Stuart, placing it on a lovely tray with a cup of tea and portrays it in front of Mick. Of course it's a really sweet gesture - no pun intended - but what touches Mick more than anything is when Frankie reveals she'll go to the police and willingly give them a sample of her DNA, to prove that she is Mick's daughter, to also prove that he has been sexually abused by Katy, which would help his case! As much I am hoping this will help, I do fear that maybe the DNA test won't come back as the result we're all hoping for?! What do you guys think?!

--

The next subject on the cards is Sharon! So, we know she's eager to pursue a new business opportunity for the sake of her son, Albie. She wants something that she will be able to provide for him in the future. Now I know I previously asked the question regarding the building she's found once belonged to Ronnie?! (Considering the name on the front of the building!) - but I noticed that Sharon claims it's an unused gym, can anyone remind me when Ronnie ever ran a gym in Walford?! I simply have no recollection of that!

Anyway, she once again approaches Peter, suggesting that she wants to run a gym with him by her side. She would be the main manager and he could be the head coach or personal trainer for their clients. At first, Peter claims that he's a "Freelance" personal trainer and he's happy how things are for now. But as soon Sharon mentions that it must be nice to have a partner who's a doctor and pays all the bills, Peter seems to agree. Even for him, this could be a brilliant career opportunity?!

However, I have to admit this next section got me really confused. Ben and Kheerat appear to lingering as they're discussing where to melt the gold bars that Vinny got his hands on. Kheerat suggests it needs to be somewhere subtle, like the Arches, but Ben is insistent that Arches cannot be the place. From across the Square, he notices Sharon putting in an offer for the abandoned building, I guess it's fair to say that Ben isn't Sharon's biggest fan - but what is she wanting to buy a gym got anything to do with him?! Maybe it's just me but I don't understand why he's interfering, and what's even worse - it appears he's dragging Kheerat into it too!

Kheerat appears to be the friendly neighbour, almost fishing for information and what's she's up to, Sharon explains that she's moving on with life after a horrendous year but just after she's put in an offer for the building, an unknown source happens to make a bigger offer, it looks as if her new business aspect is crumbling to pieces before it's already begun, but interestingly Kheerat suggests she adds on another £500 to her offer which overrules the other offer being considered. Is Ben the one who made the offer, just to get more money out of Sharon? Do the Panesar's actually hold the lease of the building and is that why Kheerat and Ben want the building as a place to melt the gold?! I have no idea, but something just doesn't add up for me, something really suspicious is going on and I can't quite work out what yet!

--

Finally the final day of Stacey's freedom has come - the day that all the Slater family have been dreading. After Lily's fall down the stairs, obviously everyone seems to be concerned for the youngster as she appears unconscious at the bottom of the stairs, but when the paramedics suggest that taking her to the hospital might give them some idea as to what's happened, Lily jumps into action claiming that she's actually okay! As everyone realises that Lily is fine, her parents decide to take her to one side to try and understand why she threw herself down the stairs.

Both Martin and Stacey listen as the youngster claims that she was trying to save her family, save her Mum from going to prison and it was also an attempt to stop the arguing so everyone would get along, if she was to get badly injured, they would have to put aside their differences for her sake. Both Martin and Stacey are shocked to hear the lengths their daughter would go through just to keep her family together. Almost as a cry for help, she pleads her Dad to do something to help stop her Mum going to prison!

Trying to do the best for his children, Martin tries to have a word with Ruby to try and make her understand she needs to change her plea, but once again Ruby lies!!!! She even lies about lying - claiming that she already tried to speak to the police about changing her statement but she was too late. She's still lying about Stacey pushing her and causing the loss of their child and plus she's also lying about contacting the police - ooo Ruby truly is the Queen of Lies isn't she?! I really don't understand why, but as Stacey puts it perfectly, Ruby is terrified about that fact that Martin still actually loves her and will do anything to keep him, even if it means sending her to prison for something she hasn't. As much as this breaks Stacey, she admits the only reason she's pleading guilty is that she'll only receive 6 months in prison and the sooner she's done her sentence, the sooner she'll be out for her kids. Stacey's words seem to hit home to Martin, does he still love Stacey?! I truly think there's a part of him that always will - she is the Mother of his children at the end of the day!

As Stacey enjoys the last few hours with her children, watching them play about in the gardens, she informs her Mum about all their routines, what not to feed them and what appointments they have coming up in the week. Everything seems to become all to real for Jean, she stares at her daughter longing and informs her how amazing she is, being so brave for her children. Jean gives Stacey her word and promises to look after her children until she's back. As time goes on, it gets later and later and eventually Stacey's time with her children runs out, saying her last goodbyes, drawing hearts on her children's hands to show that they're all a team, Stacey says one last goodbye to Lily and her Mum. As both Martin and Ruby watch from across the Square, Stacey walks away in tears and heads for prison.

The following day, poor Jean is struggling to cope with all the young ones running about, trying to make them food which they are refusing to eat because it hasn't been prepared right. Lily keeps herself occupied by making a version of Ruby out of toast. I guess you could say that Lily sees Ruby as the "Wicked Step-Mum!", which you can perfectly understand! As Lily continues to keep herself to herself, later on in the day Jean notices her with a packet of biscuits and questions what she's doing with them, Lily then admits that she wanted to cheer her Nan up by making her an "Afternoon Tea", recalling that Stacey had one planned for her ages ago but she couldn't attend because she was ill, so she wanted to do one in the house for her instead.

Poor Jean is completely overwhelmed by her Grand-Daughter's kindness, excitedly she runs out to get sandwiches and cakes for the occasion, happily stating that they all make a really good team. As Jean hurries out, from under the kitchen table, Lily pulls out a huge luggage bag filled with clothes and discreetly packs the packet of biscuits. My first initial thought was "Oh god, Lily is going to run away!" - but of course Lily is much more smarter than that. Of course this idea of an Afternoon Tea was just to get her Nan out of the house while she put her plan into place.

After returning home from lunch, Martin and Ruby and shocked to find his 3 children standing outside their front door with a huge suitcase. Lily's acting suspiciously upset, informing her Dad that she misses her Mum and her Nan is getting stressed with everything and she pleaded if she could stay with her Daddy. At first Ruby tries to be polite, informing the children that they can come a visit anytime, considering that they are just across the road, but Martin realises he can't leave his children out on the street and invites them all in to stay. As little Hope and Arthur rush in with excitement, Lily's attitude completely changes towards Ruby, informing her that she didn't expect that reaction! Ruby is completely stunned by the girl's attitude, but I have to say I felt completely sorry for Jean as she came home, hands filled with party food and balloons to entertain the children, sadly she notices the note left on the kitchen table for her, at first she thinks it's all a joke, but when she realises the house is completely empty, she looks completely and utterly lost, I just wanted to hold her and give her the biggest hug I could and tell her everything is okay!

But I do also have to say - YES!!!!! GO LILY!!!! It looks as if Lily is going to make Ruby's life a nightmare for putting her Mum in prison, and honestly, I think Ruby knows it! But what is she going to do about it? She's not going to be able to convince Martin that Lily is trying to ruin her life, I doubt he'd even believe her, he'll end up using the excuse that Lily is simply missing her Mum and is lashing out. I am super excited to see what happens next. Thank you all for reading, I apologise this post being so late, but thank you all for your patience! Please feel free to leave me any messages or comments, I'll always reply! Thanks again everyone! Love you all xXx

[caps-lockdown]

3 AM

Hello lovelies here is my entry for @justkendings 1K challenge! If ya’ll couldn’t tell I’m trying to branch out and try some writing challenges this year.

Prompts were “Dude. It’s 3 in the morning.” and “I don’t suppose you’ve got a blowtorch around here?”

Thoughts are in italics. It’s also my first time writing a complete AU so be kind. Alright here we go!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader Modern Neighbor AU

Words: 6,310 HOLY CRIPES THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME

Warnings: Swear words, booze and tons of fluff. Some crude humor. Tony, Bucky, and Sam being impatient and grumpy.

Summary: You’re a Nanny by day and a diner waitress by night. Steve is a first responder who gets off late. You both live in the same apartment building. Insert cavity inducing meet cute here.

It’s in Y/N Y/L/N format. I own nothing but my mistakes/no beta.

A/N: I imagined this like an episode of Friends, so I took a couple of lines from the show as little Easter Eggs, lemme know if you find them. And also know I don’t own friends but I’m super obsessed and what can I say? No one told me life was gonna be this way.

Enjoy!

Saturday, 3 AM

You were certain you were going to fall asleep standing up. The elevator creaked to a stop on the 23rd floor of your apartment building and you zombie dragged your body down the hall. 1-A and screaming kids? Nope. Five-B complete with another wannabe Broadway superstar warming up their vocals to Britney Spears? You live in New York city. There’s one on every floor. You looked across the hallway when you reached your door at 3-C where 7-D sat. You’ve lived here for almost two years and have never met the inhabitants of the two bedroom across from your two bedroom. Not that you had tons of time. You were a Nanny during the day most days, and on nights like tonight you worked at a Diner.

Almost there. You could hear the siren call of your bed, a tired smile at the thought of a hot shower for your screaming feet spreading across your face as you lazily jammed your key ring into the door. You glanced at your wrist watch.

2:50 AM

Your shift at the diner aptly named “The Night Owl” had run a tad bit on the long side tonight, a gaggle of high school theater kids flooding your tables at the tail end of your shift. They were riding the high of their opening night of “Footloose”, demanding cheese fries, milkshakes, and whatever amount of Marge’s meatloaf was remaining from the day. You brushed off a piece of the aforementioned dinner special from your apron, slowly pushing the door open. Not that your attempt to be quiet did any good, the tell tale squeaking of the ancient hinges announcing your nearly KO’d arrival.

Sam was in the living room in less than a minute after you shut the door, a slightly grumpy look on his face.

“Long night?”

“Almost thirty teenagers Sam,” You fell into the overstuffed recliner, reaching to take off your sneakers when there was a soft knock at your door. “Shit, I hope I didn’t wake the neighbors.”

“Relax Y/N, I got this.” Sam walked his own groggy body to the door, looking into the peephole before shaking his head and opening the door with another loud squeak.

You leaned to catch a sight of the person, your heart momentarily stopping as your gaze fell upon the most perfect looking man you had ever seen. Please let him be a neighbor.

Blonde hair sat messily atop his head, still slightly damp from a shower that you no doubt wished you could have been a fly on a wall for. If the tight blue t-shirt that was one flex away from ripping off this walking Adonis was any indication, you would have happily offered to hold the loofa for him too.

“I am so sorry to bother you at this hour. I live right across the hall, in 7-D and I was wondering if I could borrow a cup and a half of sugar from you?”

Sam stared at him, his face void of any emotion. “Sugar? Seriously?”

“Yea you see it’s a coworker, a friend really, birthday tomorrow and I said I would make a cake for him, but ah…I forgot to buy sugar before my shift. I’m a first responder and so when I got off work everything was closed. So you see I heard your door open and thought if I could ask you before you went to bed then I had a decent chance.”

Sam’s face remained stoic. “Dude. It’s 3 in the morning.”

“Actually it’s 2:58,” You replied coolly, pulling your roommate back and replacing him. “A cup and a half of sugar is no problem at all. Give us two shakes, k?”

“Thank you SO much,” The tall drink of water gushed, you giving him a small and peppy “No problem!” before making your way to your kitchen. You always managed to keep extra essentials in the pantry, your fingers easily finding your spare bag of sugar, taking note of the half full open one. “Go back to bed Sam, I’ll handle it.”

“Be careful Y/N, I’ve seen this horror movie before.” Sam warned with a wary look at the man before walking into his room and shutting the door with a THUD.

You handed the full bag of sugar to the man, enjoying the warmth from his hands as they brushed yours. “Sorry about him, it’s way past his bedtime.”

“Your boyfriend was right to be grumpy. It’s stupid early.” You chuckled, “What? Did I say something funny?”

“Sam isn’t my boyfriend, he’s my roommate. Truth be told most of the time I want to kill him. I imagine that would be multiplied ten-fold if we were actually dating.”

“I understand.” He shuffled his slipper clad feet on the floor for a moment before snapping his eyes to yours. “Uh thanks for the…the sugar. I only needed…”

“We have plenty, and I hate measuring things at 3 in the morning.”

“Actually it’s, “He checked his cell phone, “3:14”

Cheeky. “Then you better get to baking that cake then huh?” You smiled at his flustered appearance when he hastily nodded,

“Right, thanks again!”He turned to walk into his own open doorway. A dark haired man with a goatee you hadn’t noticed before stood in a gold and red bathrobe, trying to get a look at you around his brick shithouse built dwelling mate. Probably his partner. Damn it all. You shut the door with a defeated sigh. Figures.

The door to Steve and Tony’s apartment had the terrible habit of slamming shut, the hinges like its neighbor shot but in different ways. This morning was no different. SLAM

Steve nodded to his roommate after throwing the lock.

“Who’s the babe?” Tony asked, mischief floating in his eyes as Steve fought the urge to roll his own into the back of his head.

“Obviously our neighbor Tony. She was kind enough to lend me some sugar to bake Bucky’s cake.” He held up the bag for emphasis. “See?”

“Well shit Steve if you just wanted some sugar all you had to do was ask…” Steve fake gagged as he walked past his roommate, the older man throwing his hand to his chest in mock hurt. “What I just don’t do it for you anymore? You gotta go get your sugar from other women now? Am I not enough?!”

“There is too much to unpack there Ton, so please, for the love of everything holy, just go to bed.”

“Fine. But don’t expect me to wait up for your cheatin ass!”Steve pinched the bridge of his nose as Tony swayed his hips back into his room, “Next time ya see her, get her number for me?”

“Fat chance asshole, I saw her first.” Steve waved off his roommate sticking out his tongue before Tony shut the door, shaking his head and redirecting his focus to the task at hand.

It was going to be a long morning.

Saturday, 1 PM

“RISE AND SHINE YOU BEAUTIFUL MESS!”

You groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sat up in the living room. How had you fallen asleep on the couch? And when did you fall asleep on the couch? You reached for the outstretched coffee cup Sam handed you, the hot green tea sloshing in its container as you brought it to your mouth. “I see you watched the season finale of QVC. Worth the hype?”

Your middle finger was met with a pained expression, “Oh Y/N, that is obscenely un-ladylike. What would your poor mother think?”

“Well she’s been dead seventeen years Sam, so I imagine not a thing.” You smiled tightlipped at your roommate who shook his head.

“Ya always gotta play the dead mom card?”

“Hmm that depends,” You spoke to the screen in front of you, “You gonna keep wearing too tight tee shirts and pants in a last ditch effort to get a girlfriend?”

“You wound me my lady. You cut me so deep just now.”

“Whatever, don’t you have work?” Your eyebrow raised when he shook his head.

“Nah foreman gave us the weekend off since we’re ahead of schedule. Don’t you got the kids today? Or the Owl?”

“Nope I don’t got either til Monday. I’m taking the kids to the Zoo when they get back from their family reunion.” You chuckled into your cup, “I’ve actually missed the little fuckers.”

“Well you have been their nanny for the last three years. What’re ya gonna do when they’re grown?”

“Sidney isn’t even in middle school yet Sam cut me a break. I got another four years, easy.”

 “Well what should we do with our new free time?”

“How about we go to the park? Grab some lunch, enjoy the sunshine. Tonight we can binge Golden Girls and drink way too much wine and order take out? My treat?” Sam seemed to ponder for a minute before nodding,

“For once you actually know what you want so who am I to say no?” You threw a pillow at him from the couch which he dodged with ease.

“Gotta be faster than…”

The second pillow didn’t miss as you squealed and ran to your room to get ready.

~~Meanwhile in 7-D~~

“No…too corny…no….not corny enough…”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, a pile of sticky notes in a crumbled heap next to his desk. Writing a simple thank you note to your neighbor shouldn’t be this hard. It wouldn’t be, if you hadn’t been so incredibly attractive that he forgot to human. He never even introduced himself! He didn’t even ask your name! Tony said to cut himself some slack because it had been so early but Steve’s ma would hang him out to dry if she knew he had been knocking on some beautiful woman’s door at 3am.

He needed a nap.

The cake was baked and already frosted, sitting pretty ready for the big night tonight. He had used some of the sugar to make a nice coffee butter cream to ice the dark chocolate cake. Steve was super thankful you had given him the whole bag, or else Bucky would have gotten an unfrosted, sad cake. That would have definitely demoted him from “Best friend status”.

As if on cue his phone vibrated with a text message from his now a year older friend in a group chat for tonight.

Get some sleep old man, we got a long night tonight. –B

Yea yea I’m goin, sucks I have to sleep during this beautiful day though –S

This weather is freaking weird. Nearly sixty in MARCH? –B

Yea and global warming isn’t real. >.> –T

On that note I’m passing out, still on for 7?-S

Yep-B

Correct, sleep well boo thang! See you soon! Have sweet dreams of me! XoXo-T

How can I when you’re a living nightmare?-S

Steve rubbed his eyes, slapping his last written sticky note on the new bag of sugar before going to his room and passing out for a few hours.

Saturday, 6:30 PM

You and Sam had a lovely time walking central park, stopping at your favorite pizza place for lunch and just spending time catching up. You’ve been best friends since high school, and with both of you being on such odd hours most days it had become pretty difficult to enjoy the moments in between. The two of you were laughing your asses off as you made your way to your door, six bottles of wine swinging in bags at your sides.

Tonight was going to be exactly what you both needed.

Sam looked down when you nearly tripped over a block on something outside your door, “What the hell?”

You lowered yours to the floor, where a new bag of sugar sat, along with an attached sticky note. Thanks again for the sugar, Sugar.  The cake is sure to be a big hit. -Steve

You beamed as Sam reached down to pick it off the floor. “Looks like 7-D has got a sweet spot for you.”

“Oh Sam shaddup.” You groaned, shutting the door behind him. “He’s just being nice.”

“Yea sure, you gonna ask mister Sweet tooth out?”

“We both know I never will Sam, I’m too nervous about that kind of thing.” A defeated sigh left you as you sat back down on the couch and began setting up for the evening, “’sides, I think he’s batting for the same team. A very handsome man was waiting for him this morning.”

“Oh honey I’m sorry but there is a chance he’s like a screen door in a hurricane?” You tilted your head in confusion when he grinned, “Swings both ways? He assumed we were dating, so why should you assume they are?”

“Because they’d be the cutest couple in the whole damn building?” You laughed bitterly, setting the remote down on the table while the opening credits started playing. “Now will you call out for Thai already? All the wine shopping made me a starving Marvin.”

“You got it dude!” Sam agreed, hopping over the couch with a loud “WOOHOO” and landing next to you, picking up one of the many take out menus on the coffee table. “Usual spot or we looking to be adventurous this evening?”

“I so don’t have the strength for new tonight Sam, you know what I like.”

Sam saluted you before pulling out his phone, you turning down the volume as he ordered food.

Yea, exactly what you needed.

Sunday, 3 AM

“Sam….Sammy….” You whined, holding the broken corkscrew in a tipsy sadness. This was my favorite wine opener.

“Aww man, that was my favorite wine opener!” Sam echoed your thoughts, both of you giving your old friend a moment of silence before you ceremoniously dropped it into the trashcan.

“Our only wine opener.” You said with a sigh. Sam followed suit.

“What now? We still have two bottles to go through!”

Your eyes widened at your bright idea, rushing for the door as fast as your wine-soaked body could carry you and throwing the door open. You winced at the loud creak, hoping one day you’d remember to WD-40 the hinges. Your smile dropped when no one answered the door across the hall, turning back to Sam with a disappointed shrug. “No one home. I guess we’ll have to quit while we’re ahead.”

“That’s quittin talk!” Sam slurred, using the doorframe as a post, drifting off into thought as to how you could obtain a new corkscrew at this hour.

That’s when you heard it. An obnoxious laugh flooding the hall from the elevator, followed by loud, fumbling footsteps and a lot of cuss words.

“Jesus…Bucky…You’re such a damn lightweight anymore…What…what happened to you?” You recognized the brunette from earlier this morning, the blond god helping him hold up a dark haired man as they made their way towards their door. “Oh great and now the hot girl in 3-C is standing outside our door and we look like shit. Thanks Barnes.”

You took in their scraped and slightly bloodied appearance with a shocked expression, Sam wrinkling his nose at the smell of blood. “You guys look terrible. Rough night?”

The other half of 7-D winced when you stared at him, “We’ve been in worse scraps than this. But yeah, wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.” He gave you a soft, split lip smile. “What can I do for you beautiful?”

Your face burned up at the compliment, although you were positive the wine wasn’t helping matters. “Do….dddo you have a corkscrew? Ours broke.” You stammered, and followed it with a “What happened to you three?”

“Oh you know how birthdays parties and booze go.” Steve gave massive side eye to the man in the middle, “Someone didn’t want to share his cake I made him, sadly the rest is history.”

The drunk man in question had the good sense to look somewhat guilty as he sloppily threw his head up to look at the man, “JAMES DOESN’T SHARE FOOD!” He affirmed in a loud voice before dragging his gaze to you, his eyes widening in surprise. “Damn you…you weren’kidding Steve….she IS a babe.” The man attempted to wink at you with a black eye, you shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. “My….my name’s James but everyonecallsme Bucky. But you….you can callmewhatever you want sweets….”

“Alright Pal, let’s get your dumbass inside.” Steve gritted out with a clenched jaw as you darted out of the way. “And we got a couple corkscrews, so you can borrow one, no problem.”

“I got a screw she can have…” Tony muttered, barely missing 7-D’s free arm, letting go of Barnes in the process. He landed face first on the floor with a wham.

”YoU….YOu…ASShole!” Bucky spat angrily into the floor, trying in vain to pick himself up, “What…whatthefuck did I EVER do to you?!”

Tony scoffed, “Please, you want the short list or the long list?”

Laughter bubbled out of you and Sam while the blond quickly went into the kitchen and dug through drawers. He was back in a flash, holding out a wine opener that looked…

“That’s the same one we had!” You laughed, taking it from him while running your fingers over his as he released it with a small shudder. “You’re a life saver Steve!”

“I do what I can,” He replied with a chuckle.

“Hereally is a… lifesaver sweet thang.” Bucky said and you looked down to see he had managed to roll himself over in his inebriated state, staring at the two of you with a dreamy expression, “You two….wouldmakegreatlooking babies.”

“And I think that’s our cue.” Sam said with a tight lipped smile. “Thanks again dude, we’ll get this back to you ASAP.” You didn’t hold back your disappointment when the blond nodded.

“Take your time, and don’t mention it.” He looked at you, blue eyes making you want to drown in them, “Have a good night 3-C.”

“You…you too Steve.” You managed to get out before being dragged out of the doorway by your roommate. You stared at him when he shut the door and threw the lock, walking over to the unopened bottle with newfound purpose. “What the hell was that about?” You jumped slightly when the door across the hall slammed shut.

“They were making me nervous Y/N, I don’t like the way they all talked to you.”

“Steve isn’t like the others Sam, you need to stop being so overprotective.”

“That Bucky dude was one sentence away from getting a second black eye.”

“You’re a big baby. Now get to pouring that wine! I gotta see what Dorothy was going to say to Blanche!”

“Yes ma’am.” Sam rolled his eyes before uncorking the bottle. “Anything else ma’am?”

You had already hit resume on the t.v, grabbing a handful of stale popcorn and throwing most of it in your mouth, making a face at the pieces that fell to the floor. You wasted no time snatching the glass from him before the two of you sat on the couch, continuing your binge.

~~Meanwhile~~

“You NEED to ask her out Stevie!” Tony whined, holding the ice pack to his head. Steve shook his head, throwing Bucky a bag of frozen peas. Which he didn’t catch. Steve should have figured as much.

“I don’t NEED to do anything Tony. So shaddup already.” He warned, Bucky cocking his head in confusion.

“Why not? You said she ain’t dating her roomie right?”

“Doesn’t mean she ain’t seeing anyone else.” He admonished, getting really tired of his friends poking their noses into his personal life. Again

“What do you have to lose if she is? She’s insanely hot dude, at least get on a first name basis with her!”

He still hadn’t gotten your name. Shit.

“Alright mister Casanova, and just how do you suggest I do that?”

“Go ask to borrow something.” Bucky suggested, a little more sober than he had been a couple hours ago. Which wasn’t much, but any progress is progress.

Steve pulled a face, “You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot.” He smiled brightly, standing to stretch and accidentally knocking off the hideous “Better latte than never” coffee mug Steve had been too nice to throw away. He had gotten it as a gift, the eyesore coming from a female patient whose life he had saved a couple years ago. It was a nice thought, but the bright green and hot pink polka dots weren’t really his thing. “Oh no! Whatever shall we do!”

“You dick!” Tony glared, pointing to the shards of ceramic that littered the cheap hardwood floors, “We haven’t bought a new dustpan yet!”

Bucky tapped his temple, pointing to the door. “Looks like you’ll have to ask the hot neighbor.”

Steve checked his phone. 4:30 AM “No way, it’s too fucking early.”

“They still might be up.” Bucky shrugged, padding his way to the door and opening it with a dramatic flourish. He cupped his ear, leaning into the hallway. Steve heard your giggle fit from the other side of the hall, small smile creeping its way over his lips. How Fortuitous. “Could I be anymore right?”

“Alright you win this round.” Steve wiped his face with his arm, careful to avoid his split lip as he walked into the hall, but not before hip checking Bucky. “Jesus I hope she doesn’t think I’m a creep.”

He lightly knocked, hearing a small yelp on the other side followed by a gruff “I swear if it’s 7-D again I’m gonna…”

“Lay off him Sam, he’s hot and has been nothing but sweet. You rather it be the bitchy land…”

Steve jumped back when you pulled the door open, having a bit of difficulty with the new amount of wine you’ve consumed and hanging onto it as the SQQQQUUUUUEAAAK made you wince. You really needed to get that fixed. “Steve, hi…your ears burning? We were just talking about you!”

Apparently you couldn’t whisper when you were drunk. Steve found it adorable.

“No I uh, didn’t hear a thing. I got a weird question.”

“I got a weird answer.” You deadpanned, right before erupting into a fit of giggles. “Shoot”

“You got a dustpan? Bucky broke a mug and we haven’t had a chance to get a new one since the stove incident a few months back.”

You stared at him, eyes wide. “How do you leave a dustpan on a stove?”

“Hangover Breakfast.”

“Ah. Say no more. You wanna step in for a sec?”

“Uh yea, sure.” Steve stepped into your space and immediately felt like he was home. All of the décor on the walls, the perfectly coordinated knick knacks. Hell even your curtains matched.  It was an elegant take on pastels and spring themes. A lovely antique bird cage with flowers hung in the window. Stunning shades of blues and purples covered the furniture and windows, offsetting the gray colors of the couch, chair and tables. “Your space is amazing.”

“Thanks, it’s all Y/N and her HGTV obsession. Thankfully it’s all seasonal.” Sam laughed, emptying his glass. “You want a glass of wine while you wait? She usually doesn’t take long but we’ve had quite a bit to drink and right now I’d bet money she forgot which closet it’s in. We only have the one but her drunk brain sucks ass.” As if on cue the two men twisted their heads at the sound of you clamoring through the small closet.

“Nah I’ll pass. I’ve had more than enough for tonight. Thanks though.”

“I FOUND IT!” You emerged from the depths of Narnia, hair a mess and shirt rumpled holding a bright pink dustpan. The guys won’t him live that down, he could already hear them now. As if reading his thoughts you offered an apologetic smile, “Sorry bout the color.”

“It’s fine, you’re an absolute angel. Thank you.”

“Hey anytime, you’re quitelovelytolookat.” You got out in one long breath, eyes wide as you hoped he didn’t catch all of that. Wine made your sober thoughts flow out of your mouth a lot easier, which was always embarrassing.

“You’re quite attractive too Y/N.” Your eyes remained wide as you stared in panic.

“How did you…”

“Easy there no need to freak out, I’m not a stalker.” Steve chuckled, throwing his now dustpan clad hands in defense. “Sam told me. Like two minutes ago.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, Sam rolling his eyes. This was so cute he wanted to puke. “Well I should get back to the guys before they figure out a way to burn the building down.”

“Right…” You gave a half smile, careful to get a good eyeful of his perfect ass as he left. The door shut with a loud creak. “He’s really cute Sam.” Sam made a face when his door slammed.

“Then do what NORMAL people do and, “He gripped your shoulders, giggles falling out of you as he gently shook you with every word, “Ask. Him out!”

“I barely know him Sam.”

“That what dates are for. Although with your track record you might as well just ask to borrow something after an hour. “

And with Sam’s brilliant idea lodged in your head you decided to do just that.

5:30 AM

Crreeeeeak

Your slightly less than sober self tiptoed into the hall, attempting to listen to the guys arguing over movies before knocking on the door. Steve answered the door in record time.

“Whatcha need Sweetheart?”

“You got any extra bags of popcorn? We’re out.”

“Sure thing, hang on.” You accepted the bags gratefully. “Anything else?”

“Favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Blue….ok bye!”

“Bye”

Slam

Creeeeeeeak

6:30 AM

Slam

Knock

Your turn to open the door with a Creeeeeak

“Yes?”

“You got an iron?” Steve asked sheepishly, Tony, being slightly annoyed at the interruption of movie time poked his head into the hall.

“Why do you need an Iron? We have an Iron! I’m the Iron Man in this apartment!”

“She might have one not covered in cheese grease.” Steve said pointedly, Bucky looking guilty from opposite of Tony.

“That happened one time months ago! I bet it still works fine!” You gave the men a sympathetic glance.

Steve looked pleadingly at you. “Please.” You nodded, walking past a slightly irked and sleepy Sam to dig through the closet, returning promptly with an iron. “Thanks Doll, what’s your favorite movie?”

“Casablanca. You?”

“Pride and prejudice…” Your heart melted for .5 seconds before he quickly added “And Zombies.”

“Gotcha. Well, have a good morning. “

“Yea you too Y/N.”

Creeeeaaaak

Slam

7:30 AM

Creeeeeak

Knock Knock

Steve rubbed at his eyes before perking up at the sight of you in pjs, sleepy look on your own face as well.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a blowtorch around here?” You asked casually.

Steve looked stunned. “Uh….One, should I be concerned for Sam’s well being?” You quickly shook your head. “Alright…Two, why do you need a blowtorch?”

“Crème Brulee” You laughed at his reaction, his eyebrows so far into his hairline they almost got lost into his hair. An exaggeration on your part but it was still definitely a sight. “Relax, I’m mostly sober. Just hungry.”

“There is no way your custard could have set by now.”

He noticed how you looked impressed before shrugging as if it were nothing, “It has when you own a blast chiller. Being employed by two world renowned chefs has its perks.”

“I guess. Hang on.” You managed to catch a glimpse of Tony and Bucky partially glaring at you from the living room.

“I’m not keeping you guys up am I?”

“Only meant to go to bed four hours ago.” Tony snapped before grinning, “But if you come in and cuddle with me til I fall asleep I’ll consider us even.” He winked and you felt slightly self conscious for standing in a doorway in a tank top and shorts.  

“Tony, go to bed. No one is keeping you out here.” Steve tossed across his shoulder before handing you the handheld heat device. “One blowtorch. “

“Thanks Steve. Want me to bring you some?” You asked innocently, cradling the blowtorch like a newborn. Bucky cleared his throat. “I think Tony and I deserve some for putting up with you two all night.” You gave a deep sigh before nodding slowly.

“Done. I did plan on bringing you some anyway, for being so nice to me. And like a belated birthday present.” Bucky’s eyes almost bulged out of his head, whipping it over to Steve at such a speed you thought it would pop off and get carried out of the window.

“If you don’t marry her I call dibs.” You held up a finger before heading back to your apartment, the door being left open for the simple fact that Sam had threatened to smother you. His hangover was coming in hot, and he was always so cranky when he had one. You put the finishing touches on the small ramekins, using the blowtorch with skilled hands. The parents of the kids you sat most of the week had taught you a thing or two after all. You carefully set them on a tray and along with a French press of fresh coffee, bridged the gap between your two doors once more.

You set the tray down on the coffee table in front of three sets of hungry eyes. “I hope you like it!” You said cheerfully, taking a minute to soak in the childlike wonder that graced the three men’s faces. They took no time digging into the confection, Bucky and Tony making nearly identical moans at their first spoonful.

“I take back all the bad things I was thinking about you.” Tony got out before moaning again, “This stuff should be illegal.” You shook your head, slowly backtracking through the door.

“I’m glad, but I should be trying to sleep now. I hope you all have a goodnight…I mean morning.” You rushed back to your apartment with a loud crrreeeeeaaaak.

“She’s perfect.” Steve gushed after nearly inhaling his dessert.

“If only you had remembered to ask her out.” Tony muffled out, going to town on licking the inside of the small bowl as if there were any stray pieces of burnt sugar remaining. “Now it looks like I’m going to have to. Really have to twist my arm.”

Steve looked at your closed door in disappointment. “Shit.”

8:00 AM

Slam

Steve raised his hand, waiting a moment to knock. He’d been an annoying asshole all night to his roommates, not to mention yours. He should just call it a night but he desperately needed to ask you out before he lost his nerve. And before Tony had a chance to. He lightly rapped on the door, holding his breath while the door creaked open. But you didn’t answer.

One extremely pissed off and extremely hungover Sam Wilson did.

“Someone better be dying 7-D.”

“Oh uh no…sorry I was uh…” Steve trailed off, looking for a way to cover his ass from the obvious wrath coming his way. “Spit it out I don’t have all day.” Sam warned, tapping his foot impatiently.

“DoyouhaveablenderIcouldborrow?” Steve shot out, the mumbled jumbled mess making Sam quirk a brow, crossing his arms.

“Come again?”

“Sorry, “ Steve cleared his throat before starting again, “Do you have a blender I can borrow? For Bloody Marys? The guys are gonna have a wicked hangover and I thought I’d be nice and make them when they wake up.”

“A blender seems like the exact opposite of what they need with a hangover  but what the hell. If it gets you out of my hair.“ Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes, “Hang on.” It took Sam ten seconds to retrieve the contraption and all of its matching parts. Steve would have been impressed, if he hadn’t felt so bad.

“One blender. Now let me die in peace.”

“Thanks…?” “Sam. Sam Wilson.”

“Sam.” Steve tried the name on for size with a wide smile. “Nice name.”

“Don’t push your luck Steve, Y/N may have fallen for that pretty boy crap but I sure as shit won’t.”

“I don’t suppose you two will want a Bloody Mary later?”

The door was already closing, Sam speaking into the shrinking crack with indifference. “Not unless it’s made out of sleep. Goodnight 7-D”

Steve thought his was the only door in the hallway that could slam.

Sunday, 3PM

“Y/N we need more toilet paper!” Sam called from the closet next to the bathroom, you hastily scribbling the words down on a post it note before grabbing your keys.

“I’m on it! If you think of anything else, text me!” You rushed out the door, not noticing you had forgotten to grab your apartment keys on the counter. You always carried two separate key rings, in the highly likely scenario of someone trying to mug you. Sam looked at them, wheels beginning to turn.

~~In 7-D~~

“I’m going out to get some celery!” Steve called, grabbing his keys and slipping on some worn sneakers, “If you need anything just message me!” Slam

“Today’s the day I change the locks.” Tony said confidently, retreating to his room briefly to grab the new set. He had been waiting for both of them to be home, but with the way Steve had been with Y/N all night he had a score to settle. Groaning at the sound of the trash man outside he pressed the once frozen bag of carrots to his head, walking out and past a comatose Bucky on the couch. Tony glared. Asshole can sleep through anything.

He was counting on it.

4:15pm

You were extremely concerned when you reached the apartment building and realized you forgotten your keys, temporary panic set in before you remembered two things.

One, Sam was still home.

And two, he was a light sleeper.

You practically sprinted down the hall, paying no mind to the tall blond that was slapped against his own door in defeat, random items along either side of the doorway. As you neared your own door you noticed a small pile of items had migrated outside as well, a bright orange sticky note attached to the oak door.

“They’ve locked us out.” Steve said with a groan, bag holding celery and coffee hitting the ground with an unimpressed thud. “They’re punishing us for this morning.”

“No way!” You bit out, knocking on the door angrily, “Wilma! Open this retched door if you ever want to take a shit again!” You looked down at the ground, finally acknowledging the objects. “What the hell is all of this?”

“It the things we borrowed from each other last night.” Came the blonde’s response, you recognizing the bright pink dust pan, French press, and Iron. Among other things he had asked for in the early hours.

“When did you borrow my blender?” You asked pointedly, noticing how Steve’s face turned a slight pink.

“This morning. I got Sam.” You mouth made a perfect O shape, taking the sticky note off the door. What he said-Sam

“This note makes no sense.” You whispered, scratching the crown of your head, looking up to Steve to see his blush deepen. “What’s this about?”

“Uh….here.” He handed you his own crumpled up note.

You can come in when you’ve grown a pair and asked her out –Tony

“Oh.” You stared at the note, shifting your weight from foot to foot while your hallway partner studied your face as if it was the first time meeting you. He jumped in surprise when you looked up again at him with a beaming smile, “Well how about lunch?”

“You’re not hungover?” He asked curiously, you scoffed.

“Please, I’m no rookie.”

“Lunch sounds great Y/N,” Steve beamed his own mega watt smile your way and held out his arm, “You ever been to Kay’s?”

“I looove Kay’s!” You gushed, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the hall, but not before yelling loudly. “IT’S A DATE! NOW YOU GUYS CAN PUT OUR STUFF BACK!”

The three men were happy to do it, thankful for some more peace and quiet. Even if only temporarily.

Six Months Later, 3 AM

Crreeeeaaaak

“God damnit.”

Your eyes shot open to the sound of your apartment door opening, waiting for the infernal door to scream in protest before it was shut. But that never came. Instead the sound of power tools and more cussing filled the air for a few moments before the sound of rattling metal and plastic containers flooded your ears. Curious, you threw on some slippers and opened your door, walking into the living room.

Your heart fluttered at the sight of Steve Rogers replacing your door hinges.

“Good morning handsome.” You called, walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his solid middle, “You’re busy this morning. Long shift?”

“Nothing major, “ Steve moved so his arm came to rest around your side, “figured it was time we got this fixed. Especially since I live here now.”

“My hero,” You snarked, “whatever would I do without you?”

He snickered, “Probably kill Sam by now.”

“Yup.” You grinned when he let out a loud bark of laughter, “And now it’s just another thing you can hold over him when you see him and Tony this afternoon for brunch.”

“Copy that. Their apartment or ours this time?”He questioned, itching to get his hands on you.

“Theirs. So we have plenty of tim..”  He gripped you tight and cut you off with a kiss, you responding immediately. Steve sighed and picked you up effortlessly while you wrapped your legs around him. He pushed the door shut and tossed the lock over with ease, walking both of you back to your room.

Both doors closed with a soft click.

The end.

Tagging: @kaytizzle @giggleberts @cuffski @pies-wands-and-more

[found--family]

‘Supernatural’ season 15, episode 15 screener secrets: We’re ‘Highway to Heaven’-ing this bitch

[everything is from this Hypable article] 

This week on Supernatural, Amara returns and are angels solving people crimes now? Hypable previewed Supernatural season 15, episode 15 “Gimme Shelter,” so read on to find out more.

After a sweet and fun return to ease us back into the world of Supernatural last week, things are heating up pretty dramatically – I knew there wouldn’t be much more time for messing around.

“Gimme Shelter” sees Supernatural dip its feet into what the Winchesters currently believe is their big plan – eliminating Chuck by also taking down Amara, resulting in what they believe will be a cosmic-being-free balanced world. But first, they have to find her. Sam and Dean get a pretty good lead on her location, which results in a very interesting conversation between Amara and the boys – especially with her most favoritest Dean, of course.

Meanwhile, Castiel is persuaded into taking Jack to investigate a nearby case in Missouri – which all three adults suspect is probably the work of a human criminal – for the sake of humoring Jack and keeping him both busy and supervised. On the way home, they have a very interesting conversation of their own.

Spoiler Warning: This article contains generalized spoilers for Supernatural season 15 episode 15, “Gimme Shelter.” If you do not wish to be spoiled at all, do not read this article in advance of the airdate.

The official synopsis for Supernatural season 15, episode 15 reads:

MATT COHEN DIRECTS — Castiel (Misha Collins) and Jack (Alexander Calvert) work a case involving members of a local church. Meanwhile, Sam (Jared Padalecki) and Dean (Jensen Ackles) go off in search of Amara (guest star Emily Swallow). Matt Cohen directed the episode written by Davy Perez (#1515). Original airdate 10/15/2020.

If you want to know what to expect from this week’s Supernatural, here’s 10 teasers plus 15 single word clues from our advance viewing of Supernatural season 15, episode 15 “Gimme Shelter.”

‘Supernatural’ season 15, [10] episode 15 screener secrets 

1️⃣ During the filming of this episode (27 January – 5 February) Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles both spent much of the week at home with their families in Austin, a detail which was made clear on their and their wives’ public social media accounts – possibly the result of scheduled time off as they’ve mentioned occasionally requesting? The result is that the episode is weighted much more towards Cas, Jack and the murder investigation they’re chasing than towards Sam and Dean, but on the flip side, the Sam and Dean arc is more crucial to the long game of the show, so what it lacks in minutes, it makes up for in impact. 

2️⃣ However, the episode still begins and ends in a grounded family group way, at home in the Bunker – one of those “we know we should be doing this together but there are Reasons we have to split up” situations. This detail, in my opinion, really speaks to the motivation of the creative team towards honoring the four leads as parts of a whole – in earlier days, this kind of episode would have been two entirely non-touching threads. This one is, if not a tapestry, at very least a braid – tied up together at both ends, and intertwined in the middle.

3️⃣ You might have seen pictures or ominous trailer footage of Castiel and Jack digging a hole at the crossroads. We all know what that means! However, don’t worry. They simply want to talk – and the demon they summon has some really interesting – and dare I say positive? – news about the state of Hell under Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Rowena. Let’s just say the demon is actually pretty friendly… and extremely bored.

4️⃣ The two main guest stars on Cas and Jack’s side of the episode are both actors who have been briefly featured on the show before, in a couple of pretty famous episodes – one from season 2 and one from season 5. I don’t think there’s meant to be any meta or Easter Egg element to this, just the usual Vancouver casting industry cycle (see the ‘Weren’t You In Another Episode‘ reference page on the SuperWiki) but one of them is one of those cute “I appeared on Supernatural as a child and now I’m here as an adult” situations, and the other, well… the original character’s very name has become the stuff of Supernatural legend, and if I were in charge of this episode I would have put the actor in a particular piece of footwear and made sure we got a shot of it, just for kicks.

5️⃣ Castiel steps into a prayer circle when the church group members are meant to give a testimony – presumably of their journey so far and their relationship with faith. That’s what Cas chooses to share, at least – in a non-specific, humanized way – and fans of the character will be moved to hear the ways he verbalizes his own growth.

6️⃣ Speaking of growth, some of Dean’s is spelled out for him in the most miraculous way by Amara. After Sam and Dean meet up with her and have a conversation about Chuck that’s ultimately a bit of a non-starter, Dean returns to ask her another, more personal question. Her response gave me legitimate chills. It’s a very weighty mic drop and the combination of the level of impact and the level of clarity (it’s entirely airtight, no room for interpretation) feels like the culmination of all the self-actualization work the show has been doing on Dean in the last four years. (I wish I could tell you Sam got a big special moment like this in the episode, but he doesn’t. Amara’s return was always going to be Dean’s thing.) Amara’s speech to Dean… it doesn’t feel isolated, like the idea of it was invented just for this episode. It feels more like concrete evidence of what the show has been trying to prove for ages. And the funny thing is, Amara is the anti-Chuck, right, and all season, we’ve learned about the version of the story Chuck thinks is good, and we’ve been told to root against that. Chuck’s version of Supernatural isn’t how the writers really feel. But I think Amara’s might be. Dean has obviously struggled to see what she tells him, all in one piece, but here it is – this was the point, laid out on the table, from the entity behind the curtain – both onscreen and off. Amara knew what she was doing, and so did the writers. This was always, always the point.

7️⃣ Even before this massive scene, Amara’s return is just great. Emily Swallow does such an incredible job with this character – she really is the anti-Chuck even without the whole writer comparison. Swallow imbues this character with such an incredible peace and stillness in comparison to Chuck’s histrionics – this was true in the way she spoke and behaved even in season 11, but this Amara also feels kindness and patience and tolerance. She radiates power, even when she’s also slightly goofy. There’s no fight, there’s no antagonism, but the boys in her presence are like little fish in a vast ocean – they quickly realise they have no real control in this conversation. The way that we leave her indicates she’ll be back and has more to say or do, and what she shared during her reunion with Sam and Dean makes me really curious about the role she’s due to play in the show’s endgame.

8️⃣ I’m not very religious but I really like the version of a church group or ‘faith-based community,’ as they say, featured in “Gimme Shelter.” Supernatural has a shaky history in terms of how the show portrays people in-universe who believe. Sometimes they’re treated like a joke, or stupid, or dangerous, or hypocrites, but occasionally civilian acts of faith are shown as great and powerful things, even in a world where we know that what they believe in isn’t strictly accurate. That concept became an even bigger question mark for me when we got the reveal that Judeo-Christian God is not only absent, but our actual villain. However, this was a really nice look at why faith can still be a framework for a good way of life – loving thy neighbor – for some people, no matter the truth about Chuck. The episode also features a callback to writer Davy Perez’ very first Supernatural episode “American Nightmare” in terms of the way that some people have weaponized faith and religion to the detriment and harm of others or even themselves, but this factor does not negate the positive point mentioned above.

9️⃣ Supernatural alum and newly minted director Matt Cohen really got the full old-school Supernatural episode experience when it comes to leaning into the spooky horror element. The murderous case-of-the week featured in this episode is heavy and lingering on the gore and even contains a little bit of a jump scare, so view responsibly.

🔟 So, um, you know that line, in this week’s teaser trailer? The line that a lot of people are freaking out about because it seems to pertain to something important that we know about Cas’ fate that Dean and Sam aren’t aware of? Yeah, it is 100% absolutely not about that at all. It is about something super important, but it’s not that. It’s also the last line of the episode, but trust me – it’s not a cliffhanger and it’s not a red herring and it’s not a twist. The information is gleaned within the episode and you’ll know exactly what Cas is telling Dean about after seeing it – narratively, that’s the reason it isn’t in the episode, because the show clearly assumes you’ll get the picture and can skip a rehash of information. But what you were probably expecting – maybe even hoping for – it’s not that. You’re gonna have to hang on for that one.

Finally, have 15 random yet significant words from this week’s episode without any context whatsoever: Gaia, Ronald, mother, pierogies, cats, philosophy, target, blind, permission, lockdown, Kool-aid, buffet, gift, trial, choice.

‘Supernatural’ airs Thursday at 8/7c on The CW

[buddha-in-disguise]

Nothing is as it seems.

I've talked about this away from social media at length, but wanted to just put the thoughts down properly about the overall Supergirl Season 5 plot - not about cast or characters per se, since I have covered this a few times in numerous posts.

Supergirl was touted as being a Black Mirror season, where nothing is as it seems, and the dangers of technology and certain social media platforms.

I was excited for this. As my husband can attest, I love these kind of puzzles or plots in TV or film (hello, Interstellar anyone? Or 12 Monkeys. Or from books, the likes of Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder, or Shutter Island - I've not seen the film so, no idea if it follows the book closely. Or TV, Black Mirror).

So much to my husband's annoyance I often will catch onto clues long before he does when watching things (I do try to keep quiet when I watch things with him so as not to spoil it, but I slip up and suddenly say 'did you see that?' As he gives me a bemused look and the 'no.' falling from his lips with practiced ease). I might not always know the full relevance to certain things, but I see cohesion that I can then map towards a conclusion, or it helps me understand if an ending is more open to interpretation.

Supergirl this season has left me struggling to catch any clues or their relevance. Sure they're there. Hope offering to kill Kara even though her prime directive was to do no harm in episode one for goodness sake, as an immediate red flag went up for me, plus Lillian and the Earth they controlled comment to Lex suggesting she wasn't Earth 38 Lillian, particularly with Lex's reaction, Leviathan leader is female - not a surprise if they're following the comics, but it feels far more weighted as a clue than that. Lena decidedly working against Lex (including appearing to press the button on the cube as he walked away, facial expressions as he leaves or has left etc). These are the most immediate things just off the top of my head.

So I know if I'm struggling to bring things into any cohesive threads, then I can only imagine some are struggling to do even that and can't get anything of the whole season plot from the episodes thus far.

I think this would be fine over a short run, but the problem seems to have become 2 fold.

The first is, Black Mirror or most films of a similar ilk only last around 60 to 90 minutes on average. Perhaps a little longer, sometimes less.

That's all well and good, but to then try and bring that over to around 20 hours of television?

Think of this another way. Black mirror has had 5 seasons. The same as Supergirl. However, it has only had 22 episodes in all that time, so only one seasons worth of episodes compared to Supergirl. Each Black mirror episode was self contained. Plus any Easter eggs or themes they brought into later episodes were done in such a way, that knowing earlier episodes wasn't essential for understanding any new episode.

While the premise was sound for Supergirl, I think now the execution has suffered because it is over too many episodes.

Add in the Crisis episodes and then 2 hiatus' coming in almost on top of one another, and that has been compounded. It has made it far harder to remember nuances that might have been given in the early episodes, that would now make more sense. Because they haven't been outright smacks over our heads with a piece of 2x4 in terms of how clues have been given, or even which scenes might actually be relevant and others have no real meaning to the later plotline.

Behind the scenes, they know how this is going to play out (or at least, they have a broad arc outline), but the viewer doesn't have that. It is one thing to watch back once all pieces are in place, to understand it. It is entirely another when you expect an audience to understand what you are trying to achieve when there is so much that is confounding people.

This is leading to frustration. Add in other issues being raised, and it can only compound the situation.

Truly I want nothing more than to be able to get the full season screened, to look back and finally understand what it all entailed, and hopefully say: Shit okay, so that was how it was. Well done. It frustrated me all to hell, but damn you pulled it off. *applause*

But honestly, to have it over a full season feels excessive. I think it would've been far better served to have more of Crisis in the lead up into those episodes, and allow the 2nd half of the season deal with everything else. Just compact it up a bit more. It feels far too complicated for far too long.

Plus I'm also just not sure how they're going to be able to bring it together with the number of episodes left, especially if it is a shortened season number as being suggested.

Remember I am saying this is as someone who loves this kind of thing!

We are now at the stage of the season where we need more than subtly on how this is going, but good solid moments of momentum that we know are part of the ending somehow, even if we still don't have full context. Otherwise I sense the discomfort for viewers in not understanding what is trying to be shown to them will become even more discord.

Right now it feels messy. I've not felt this adrift on the overall plot in previous seasons of Supergirl as I have in this one. Sure we know, nothing is as it seems. We have some puzzle pieces outlining certain things. We know Leviathan are involved. We know Lex has a part to play. We even know Lena has a part to play (you can tell she is looking to take Lex and Lillian down, let alone the other problems with Kara that are nowhere being addressed either). We know Brainy has a part to play. We know the broader strokes. But the middle is still a jumbled mess of pieces that have nothing that looks even remotely like the picture on the box.

I want nothing more than the season to succeed. The earlier half of the season had overall solid views. Since Crisis it has suffered (and let me tell you, if you think SuperCorp can reach across a 200k to 300k drop in viewership *after* the last episode began airing, you are completely blinded by your desire to blame them for everything. It might be a big fandom, but it is nowhere that large. Step back and at least acknowledge that is not logical or feasible).

So. I think they had a great idea, I really do. I think though the length of time to try and make it come to fruition has been detrimental overall.

I truly hope the rest of the season pulls back what it did earlier, and it solidifies the whole season as it reaches its conclusion.

[ladylillianrose]

Seasons of Love a Max Richman/Zoey Clarke fanfiction

A/N: So this chapter is taking place post episode 10 with the Max/Zoey stuff from episode 11 as well. I'm figuring with everything going on Zoey hasn't really had a chance to fill Maggie on what has been happening with her and Max. But no matter what is happening with him and Zoey, Max cares about all the Clarkes as his second family.

Thank you all for the wonderful comments and reponses!

As always I'm just borrowing them, they all belong to the wonderful Austin Winsberg!

Summary: Mother’s Day

This month's song is “Can’t Hurry Love” by The Supremes (Listen here https://youtu.be/uZj032MNIx4)

May 10 Mother’s Day

April 12 Easter

March 17 St. Patrick’s Day

February 14 Valentine’s Day

December 31-January 1 New Year’s Eve/New Year’s Day

Maggie sat at the kitchen island watching as Max prepared Mother’s Day brunch. 

David and Zoey were both hopeless in the kitchen, so when Max started joining them he had volunteered to take over  cooking for Mother’s Day. Something that the whole family was grateful for. 

Max wasn’t his usual talkative self though, there was something bothering him.

“Max, sweetie? Are you okay?” she asked.

Max gave her a small smile as he turned off the stove, placing the french toast onto the waiting platter.

“It’s fine. Nothing big,” he shrugged, he put the platter into the oven to keep the food warm.

Maggie patted the stool next to her, pouring them both mimosas from a pitcher. “Come sit, and tell me about it.”

Max smiled as he took a seat.

“So what’s got you so quiet today?”

Max hesitated, did he tell Maggie what had happened? He could at least give her the rough details of it, without revealing Zoey’s powers.

“This is a little embarrassing,” he began.

Maggie sat patiently letting him take his time.

“I confessed to Zoey that I’m in love with her.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows,  she wasn’t surprised that Max loved her daughter, she had known for a while. What was more surprising was Zoey hadn’t breathed a word of this to her.

“I made a big deal out of it too, because I thought she might feel the same way.”

“Big moment, big memories, kind of thing?” Maggie offered.

Max nodded, “Flash mob at the mall. And at the end of it she left, no response.”

Maggie winced, Zoey did not do well at confronting her own emotions and feelings, she never had.

“Turns out she’s actually known how I felt for a while but didn’t say anything. She knew even when she set me up with our barista, which should have been a sign I guess.”

Maggie frowned, she remembered Zoey mentioning something about Max briefly dating a girl, but that they had ended things after less than a month.

“So we talked, and she explained that she was afraid of risking our friendship and losing me. I told her that I needed some space for a bit, but then she got the news about Mitch’s meds not working.”

That day was still fresh in Maggie’s memory, her whole world had tilted on its axis. She spent all day trying to get a hold of Zoey, so they could support one another. But Zoey had been in her own fog that day, unable to deal with the news or even talk about it.

“That day was rough, and some things she wasn’t expecting to reveal were said. That’s how I found out the real reason she wouldn’t take a chance on us was because she apparently has feelings for both me and Simon.”

Maggie sighed, she knew all about the problems with Simon. She had tried to warn Zoey, telling her of her own past with an unavailable man. She had hoped she might save her daughter from the pain she went through. 

“We had an argument about it and then I got offered the  promotion to the 6th floor. So I took it, needing to put some space between us and to do something for myself. Which led to an even worse argument and now we aren’t really speaking.” Max finished, fiddling with his  glass, unable to look Maggie in the eye.

Maggie shook her head, her heart aching for the young man in front of her. She and Mitch had been hoping that Max and Zoey would end up together. 

Mitch had even commented once how much they reminded him of the two of them in their younger years. Which of course meant that Max had his work cut out for him, just like Mitch had with her.

She reached over and wrapped him in a hug, just as she had done for her own children over the years.

Max released a breath and returned the hug. “Thanks Maggie,” he pulled back and gave her a small smile.

Maggie looked at him, “I know things seem rough right now between you two, but just be patient. It will work out like it's supposed to.”

Max nodded, knowing that the silence wouldn’t last long between them. He wanted to be angry at Zoey, but he also knew how hard things were getting and that he had just been an easy outlet for her anger. 

He heard a throat clear from the doorway and glanced up. Zoey was standing there awkwardly.

Maggie walked over to her and gave her a hug.

“Happy Mother’s Day Mom,” Zoey said looking everywhere but at Max.

“Thank you sweetheart. I'm glad you came.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Zoey asked, confused.

“No reason. I’m going to go check on your Dad and Howie, can you help Max get everything onto the table?” Maggie left the room before she could respond.

The two of them stood there awkwardly not making eye contact.

Max walked over to the oven and grabbed the food he had placed inside to keep warm.

“Here, I’ll take that,” Zoey said holding out her hands.

Max just raised his eyebrows and handed her the dish wordlessly.

Zoey walked over to the table while Max went to get more eggs from the fridge.

Zoey sighed and put the plate down hard. Max looked over at her startled.

"This is stupid," she said looking at him.

Max opened his mouth to respond.

"No, let me finish," Zoey held up her hand.

"I'm sorry, Max. I'm sorry for everything I said that day. None of it was true. I was angry at everything that was happening and I took it out on you." She fiddled with the strap on her SPRQ watch nervously. "I haven't been a great friend lately. I'm not saying I expect us to just go back to the way things were…"

Max nodded, "I'm sorry too, Zo. I know how tough things have been lately and…"

Zoey interrupted him, "Max you have been nothing but supportive for me and my family. Hell you're here on Mothers Day cooking brunch for my family."

Max smiled slightly, "Well, I couldn't let Maggie starve. "

Zoey looked indignant, "I can make scrambled eggs I'll have you know!"

Max held out a bowl and whisk to her, "Prove it." 

Zoey shook her head and took the tools. "You watch, these will be the best scrambled eggs you've eaten."

Max took a step back watching as Zoey began cracking eggs. He could do this, they could figure out a new normal for them. And maybe someday….

"Max can you hand me…." Zoey began but stopped as she heard music beginning. She glanced at Max as he began singing.

I need love, love to ease my mind

I need to find, find someone to call mine

But Mama said

You can't hurry love

No, you just have to wait

She said love don't come easy

It's a game of give and take

You can't hurry love

No, you just have to wait

You got to trust, give it time

No matter how long it takes

Zoey paused her stirring to watch him as he sang while getting the table ready.

But how many heartaches must I stand

Before I find a love to let me live again?

Right now the only thing that keeps me hangin' on

When I feel my strength, yeah, is almost gone

I remember Mama said

You can't hurry love

No, you just have to wait

She said love don't come easy

It's a game of give and take

You can't hurry love

No you just have to wait

She said trust, give it time

No matter how long it takes

Max turned around to find her staring at him. He knew that look, "I just sang to you, didn't I." He sighed.

Zoey smiled, "It’s okay Max. I like hearing you sing." She admitted.

"What did I sing this time?" He asked, a little wary of the answer.

"Something about you can’t hurry love, you just have to wait."

Max blushed, he wished that her powers wouldn't work on him. Then she wouldn't feel like he was overwhelming her with his feelings.

"Zoey...I…"

She waved her hand at him stirring the eggs into the pan. "Max, it's okay. Really. I can’t help my powers. And I promised to be open with you, so if it ever bothers me I'll tell you."

Max nodded

"Now the eggs are almost done so why don’t you go get everyone, and I'll get them on the table.

"Sure." He headed into the hall, stopping as he heard Zoey softly singing.

I remember Mama said

You can't hurry love

No, you just have to wait

She said love don't come easy

It's a game of give and take

You can't hurry love

No you just have to wait

She said trust, give it time

No matter how long it takes

Max smiled, maybe there was some hope for him after all.

[ducktracy]

103. my green fedora (1935)

release date: may 4th, 1935

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: tommy bond (peter)

this one has some interesting history. it’s seemingly a sequel to country boy. according to an interview by mike barrier, bob clampett claims he wrote the story for this episode for a story competition. here’s the quote from the interview, which you can read here:

“About the same time as the first Porky story, Leon announced a studio-wide contest, with a money prize to whichever member of the staff turned in the best original story. So many of us entered the contest that the animation footage went down. My story, which was about a rabbit family, won first prize, and was made as My Green Fedora. This gave me a big boost, since I'd just originated a couple of characters (Porky and Beans) and now I'd won the story contest.”

the porky and beans stuff is totally false—friz was the true creator of the two. bob clampett had a habit of passing off characters he didn’t make as his own. but, to be fair, that was just how it was in those days. directors weren’t viewed or respected the way they are today. if you didn’t make bugs bunny, you weren’t important. so EVERYONE in those days tried to pass off various characters as their own, but bob clampett was certainly the biggest offender. really, the characters were a collaborative effort (though they all have their origins, porky and beans originating from friz)

ANYWAY! some interesting history. an unofficial sequel to country boy, peter has to take care of his baby brother elmer, but a hungry weasel decides to intervene.

peter’s mother peeps her head outside the cottage door, looking for her mischievous son. her target overhears her calls, sneaking around the edge of the house and hoping not to get caught. too late. peter’s mother snags him from outside, dragging him in through an open window. it seems she’s going out for the day, collecting her picnic basket and hat. she instructs peter to watch his little brother, elmer (a favorite name for babies? remember cookie’s little brother elmer?) while she goes out to shop, adding a stern “and keep out of mischief!”

elmer watches his mother walk down the lane outside. the coast clear, he shifts his eyes around before puffing out his chest and wailing. what a good gag! we’ve all seen that baby who throws a tantrum just for the hell of it. they get some sort of amusement out of it in their tiny little brains. peter, clearly annoyed, shakes elmer’s rattle, who snags it up and beats peter on the head with it, wailing once more. i love how nonchalant he looks, propping himself up by the elbow and screaming like nobody’s business.

unable to take any more, peter plugs his ears and marches into the closet for relief. i’m sure all older siblings have felt like doing that with baby siblings, right? (i’m speaking as the youngest sibling, so i sympathize with elmer more than i do peter LOL.) peter sulks on a box inside the closet... until he spots a green fedora. he places it on his head and moves over to put on a coat hanging on a mannequin, which disperses into a cloud of moths. nevertheless, he finds a matching green coat hanging by the door and puts it on.

darting back into the nursery, peter sings the titular “my green fedora”. i love this scene! peter’s voice actor is tommy bond, who was butch in our gang/little rascals. he was also the voice of owl jolson in tex’s i love to singa. the scene is very cute—peter’s doing an impression of comedian joe penner, hence his guttural, slightly warbly but very endearing vocals. the dance he does is great, strutting around with a fake cigar. elmer laughs at the act, doing a joe penner laugh (which is highly annoying but VERY funny. peter finds it obnoxious and grimaces before continuing).

elsewhere, a hungry weasel pops its head out of its hole outside the cottage, overhearing peter’s singing. peter finishes the act and elmer gives another laugh, irritating peter. in fact, he’s so irritated that he throws the fedora on the ground, fedora bouncing back up a few times on his head. he tosses his coat on the ground and stalks angrily outside, leaving elmer to his own devices.

the hungry weasel recognizes he has his chance to get in and feast on some baby rabbit. he digs a hole under the floor, right under elmer’s rug. he gets in with ease and ties a handkerchief around his head to give the illusion of bunny ears, a gag daffy would use on porky to convince him he was the easter bunny in what price porky.

lovely staging. elmer, who had settled in for a nap, wakes up and spots the looming silhouette on his wall, happily exclaiming “mommy!” he turns around and screams—a very grotesque shot of the weasel’s bloodshot eyes and elongated snout. elmer tugs in the weasel’s snout and lets go, but it does little to shake the weasel. the weasel dumps elmer in a brown sack and leaps into the hole he dug, pulling the rug over it to cover his tracks.

meanwhile, peter is still sulking along outside. his mother’s words come back to him, and fear pings him. awww, it’s cute that peter has some remorse in this cartoon. i liked how mischevious he was in country boy, but this is a good balance between mischevious and caring. obligatory big brother duties. he senses something is wrong and rushes back to the house, only to find the nursery completely empty. while looking around frantically, he steps onto the rug and plummets right into the tunnel.

very moody lighting in the tunnel scenes, i love it! once peter stops tumbling, he lights a match to see better.

this lighting is phenomenal. the weasel picks up elmer and salts him, dumping him into a frying pan and roasting him over a flame. nice detail of hesitation—it takes just a second for the flames to actually burn elmer. the weasel shushes elmer’s screams, but elmer doesn’t listen, crying “help! help!”

thank god for peter! he overhears his brother’s screams, the match falling as he gets startled. he cries “elmer, elmer! where are you? elmer! i’m coming, elmer!” bad news for the weasel, who stuffs elmer back in the brown sack and takes off.

peter follows the weasel’s tracks through twists and turns. he pops his head out of a hole, where the weasel is waiting just to sock him in the face. can’t go wrong with some slapstick as peter propels through the twists and turns of the tunnels, popping out at ANOTHER hole where the weasel socks him, the pattern continuing.

it’s especially amusing to watch elmer, whose little ears are poking out of the sack, run away, just a sack with legs. the weasel chases him down, while peter falls out of the hole one last time in a daze, knocked unconscious. elmer drops through a hole and runs through some tunnels, parallel to the ones peter slid through. the animation is great. what’s funnier than seeing a little bag with feet run around aimlessly? the camera angles are very nice, too, and really add to the flow of the scene.

elmer is free! or so he thinks. he exits a tunnel and barrels straight into the butt of the weasel, who snatches him up and sneers. meanwhile, peter finally wakes up, immediately becoming punchy and shadow boxing with an invisible foe. the weasel spots he’s being followed once more and crouches in a tunnel. there are two tunnels—one continuing in the ground, one leading upwards. the weasel clogs the ground tunnel and serves as a ramp for peter to run up, running up a tree branch and falling back on his head, another gag that we’ll see quite often (such as in porky in wackyland).

thankfully, a hose is right next to the opening of the hole. a nice little underscore of “my green fedora” plays energetically as peter drowns the weasel out of his hiding place. various geysers gush out of multiple holes, including elmer, who’s closest to peter, and the weasel further away.

peter plugs the hole with his foot and reunites with his baby brother, freeing him from the sack. peter smiles as he increases the water pressure, sending the weasel flying into the air uncontrollably. once he’s high enough in the air, peter cuts off the water, sending the weasel crashing to the ground... right into a cactus patch. strange anecdote i suppose, but i remember one time we were staying at a vacation house which had a tiny little patch of cacti. i don’t know what happened or HOW it happened, but i remember my dad having to spend that night picking out a TON of cactus needles in my skin LOL. the curiosity of a 5/6 year old is a dangerous thing. i think that was the same year i accidentally tumbled down on some of the largest sand dunes on the east coast.

anyway, the weasel takes off in pain, and elmer gives his obnoxious joe penner laugh. all brotherly bonds are broken as peter, annoyed, turns on the hose and sends elmer into the air, smiling as he falls back down. wow, what an ending!

this is a really good merrie melody, especially for its time. friz doesn’t get enough credit. the merrie melodies are no mona lisa, but they definitely brought some much needed entertainment in the era of buddy. peter, elmer, and the weasel all have distinct personalities, archetypal as they may be. i LOVED peter. mischevious older brother who clearly didn’t sign up to be the older brother, but rushing to the rescue regardless. still, if the baby’s annoying, even after all they’ve been through, he’ll still squirt him with water! the song “my green fedora” is ridiculously catchy, peter’s less than perfect rendition very amusing and endearing. this feels a lot like a cartoon you’d see in the late 30s, like around 1938 or so. i definitely recommend it! bob clampett’s influence is certainly lingering. animation was nice, story was nice, characters were nice... i may also be biased since i have a big brother of my own, who i wish would send ME flying into the air with a hose. anyway, give it a watch! i can’t really think of many downsides to it. a happy, feel good cartoon.

link!

[calliecat93]

It’s been a long and chaotic hiatus period folks, but at least we’re here. RWBY Volume 7. There’s been a lot of hype in the leadup to this. New outfits. New setting. New characters. Old characters making long-awaited comebacks. There is so much to be excited about this season, and the absolutely insane opening only added more fuel to the fire. I’ve done a review/analysis on the opening already, which if you’d like to check that out, you can find it here. 

But for now, after nearly ten months of waiting, it’s finally time. Review season is in full swing. So why wait any more than we already have? Let’s kick the Volume 7 Reviews off with Chapter One, The Greatest Kingdom. Because of course, that would be the title of an Atlas-centric chapter. Of course.

Overview

We begin exactly where we left off before. RWBYJNRQOM have reached Atlas… but Ironwood’s fleet is armed and ready as though expecting an attack. Everyone is taken aback by this, especially Weiss. This causes complications. With Atlas this high alert, if they dock in an unauthorized ship, they’re going to be in a lot of trouble. Weiss also worries that if that happens, they may very well return her to her family, and to her father. But she then remembers that since they’re now back in Atlas’ range, she can contact Winter. Thus, Maria steers the ship downward, towards the city of Mantle.

We get our first glimpse of the former capital, and it’s telling. The location has a New York kind of vibe. It’s big and industrial but also run down. One reason for that may be because of the number of troops and drones in the city. They’re making people afraid or rebellious, even children as we see two throw a rock at a drone. But even more telling is that the holo-screens have Ironwood talking, claiming that this is all for their own safety. Everyone is unnerved by this, and worst? Winter is also spewing out the propaganda, shocking Weiss. Due to this, the plan is to ditch the ship and join the masses in Mantle.

Thus, the ship is parked… somewhere. We never see where. But the gang walks through the city, and get an even better look at how rundown that it is. Thre’s political posters around, namely featuring some kind of pale blonde-haired figure. We also see some headlines highlighting events like the Embargo, the discovery of a dead journalist, and damage to the border. Drones are going all around and take photos of Yang, which earns a kick from her and then it gets run over. Oops. We even see graffiti that says “Show Your Teeth”. Best guess is that that’s the White Fang’s doing. Life looks awful in Mantle, and Blake expresses this out loud. This earns her getting told off by two drunkards, who go off about Atlas being great and all that kind of stuff that we’ve heard before. But when one starts to make racist Faunus remarks at Blake, Weiss responds by gravity Glyphing into a dumpster. This attracts security attention, but it was worth it.

Maria knows where they can go, and she takes them to some kind of clinic. This is where she had intended to go in order to get her eyes adjusted. We, therefore, meet the man who runs the place. An elderly, wheel-chair bound man named Pietro. He is a well-known scientist who has made various advances for Atlas and Ironwood, but he volunteers in Mantle to get away from the stuffy atmosphere and to help the people below. The gang has questions about Atlas, so Pietro explains how Ironwood’s paranoia has gone into overload. Not just because of the Fall, but because of how badly his forces were hacked and made Atlas look like both terrorists and buffoons. But we do find out that they still don’t know who hacked their systems, but they /do/ suspect that it may very well be one of their own. With everyone blaming Atlas for the Fall of Beacon, the council is so scared that they’re just doing what Ironwood says. So needless to say, Atlas is in utter chaos and isn’t as safe as our heroes previously thought.

Pietro begins to talk about Mantle’s representatives taking action… until he recognizes Weiss. Yang tries to get things back on topic, only for Pietro to recognize her arm. He sounds… kind of offended that she painted it, haha! But he soon recognizes Team RWBY, having heard of them from his daughter. Who is his daughter? Well before Ruby can find out, a warning siren goes off. A group of wolf-like Grimm that I believe are called Sabers are attacking, so our heroes fight back. It’s a pretty good action sequence, full of a lot of high-paced energy and an awesome guitar riff in the background. Poor Blake’s sword is still broken, so she’s forced to stick to the gun mode. Fortunately, our heroes are ripping the Grimm apart with ease… but they ultimately don’t defeat the Grimm themselves.

A series of lasers blast away the remaining Grimm. We see a figure flying up above. A very… familiar looking person. Green color-scheme… red hair… a pink bow… freckles… wait… the figure lands, and we get to see them in full. Ruby’s eyes widen in shock as, for the first time since the Fall of Beacon, she sees Penny Polendina. 

You read right folks, Penny is back! Pietro tells her to say hi to her friends and… she recognizes them! She recognizes Ruby! She flies right into Ruby to hug her! That probably gave Ruby a concussion, but eh she’ll live. But only one thing matters right now: PENNY! PENNY IS BACK!!! SHE’S ALIVE!!! WHOO~!!!

As it turns out, Pietro is Penny’s father/creator. After Amity Arena was brought back to Atlas, they were able to recover Penny’s core and Pietro was able to rebuild her and even better. She is now the official protector of Mantle. Penny is excited to catch back up with Ruby… but another siren goes off, and she has to go off. Everyone has questions, but fortunately, Pietro is more than happy to answer them. So successful Grimm fight, they made it to Mantle, and they found a friendly face. Two friendly faces! Sure we had the rough patch with Ironwood’s forces and his propaganda, but hey! So far things are going pretty well!

Well, let’s ruin that!

The gang is suddenly captured and bound down by a group of blue and white-clad soldiers. This is a security force known as Ace-Ops. Qrow argues that he’s a licensed Huntsman and was doing his job, but Ace-Ops take their weapons and, even worst, the lamp. Pietro questions the meaning of this, and their leader named Clover Ebi reveals the list of charges. The unauthorized ship, disobeying commands from Control, and fighting Grimm despite all but one of them being unlicensed. As such, they’re being arrested and taken to Atlas. The episode ends with everyone loaded up into the back of a police van with Qrow hating himself for jinxing everything up. Stupid Bad Luck Semblance.

Review

So this was a bit shorter than the previous couple of premieres, but really? That’s not a problem whatsoever. This premiere was really good! Not the best, but certianly does its job and does it well. We get to see Mantle after so many years, get to finally meet Professor Polendina, and we get a big surprise in the return of Penny. We get a fun action scene as well, which is always nice. And it has a solid ending in everyone getting arrested… well okay, that sucks for them, but it was an appropriate place to end.

Before we go into more detailed stuff though… let’s talk about the elephant in the room first. That being Qrow’s new voice. For those unaware, Vic Mignogna was fired and I don’t feel like going into it any more than I’ve already had to. But long story short; Vic did a lot of gross, horrible stuff and he deserved to be kicked out. As such, voice actor Jason Liebrecht was cast to take over, and so far… I think that he’s good! It was a tad bit spotty, but he’s still new so I’m not expecting perfection. But it still feels like Qrow and the voice honestly sounds like a cleaner, healthier version of Vic’s Qrow. Which if Qrow starts to sober himself up, it will fit very well. So yeah, I am perfectly happy with Jason’s rendition and I am looking forward to hearing more of him going forward~

Okay, got that out of the way. So let talk about good stuff now!

Mantle looks amazing. IIRC, Miles and Kerry said that Mantle and Atlas are based on different periods of America’s evolution. Mantle represents the Industrial Era, in particular New York, and it certianly feels that way. It’s a big city, but it’s not happy. The place looks run-down and dirty, there’s tons of unrest, and they have to watch as Atlas stands above them in all of its glory. It was meant to be a symbol of hope, but now? It just represents the oppression of Mantle and how Atlas stands superior to them. One of the most telling scenes is when we see a wagon of miners pass by. All of them are covered in soot and just look sick and miserable. It paints a very harsh picture, and it’s only going to become all the harsher as we learn more in the future.

But there is a bright spot. We FINALLY get to meet Pietro. He’s as I expected, a kind old-man, if a bit scatter-brained and forgetful. He very much fits the image of a Gepetto-inspired character. Though him being wheelchair-bound and his frequent coughing certianly has me concerned for him… and I have a very bad idea about his final fate by the time that this arc is over. Still, we get a very clear image of his character and there’s a lot of Easter Eggs in his office. Like the whale statue on his shelf, another allusion to Pinocchio. It’s that attention to detail that makes me appreciate CRWBY so much. Also fun fact, his voice actor is David Fennoy. Which this isn’t his first time working on RWBY. The other time? As Dr. Merlot, the antagonist of RWBY: Grimm Eclipse. Who, if you don’t know, was a mad scientist… so great casting gag there CRWBY!

But speaking of Pinocchio… 

Well everyone, we knew that it was coming, but we weren’t ready. Yes, indeed, Penny is back. So… there’s been some debate over her re-introduction. While everyone is happy to have her back, some have questioned the under-whelming execution and lack of reaction from Ruby. Now I will admit that it is more subdued than I was expecting, but Ruby? I don’t at all get her so-called ‘lack of reaction’. You can see how wide her eyes are and how stunned she is, but it quickly evolves into over-whelming joy. Not every reaction has to be tearfully breaking down, guys. Ruby processed it quickly and was just overjoyed. Then after the tackle-glomp, you can hear her struggling to find the words to say as she starts to ask what happened since she thought that Penny was dead for at least a year. So no, Ruby’s reaction was perfectly IC for her and he DID have a reaction.

But yeah, Penny is back! But unlike what we all assumed, she has her memory! I was confused on how since we saw the Nevermore stomp on her remains… but considering that the area was sent back to Atlas, I can buy that they dug around enough to find the core and repair any damage that it had. I admit her return is a lot less dramatic than I thought it would be… but I really have no issue with it. For one, there’s plenty of things with her that can be touched on later. How she felt about dying. Her status as Mantle’s protector. What’s happened with her since the Fall. Plus after everything that’s happened, I think that we deserved this one break regarding Penny and her having her memory still. So yeah, maybe the execution could have had a bit more substance, but I really have no problem with it. Penny is back, and that’s all that matters.

Thre is a lot of good setup here. We have Ironwood’s paranoia on full display as well as the results towards Mantle due to it. We get a look at the mindsets of people like the kids throwing rocks at drones and the drunkards shitting on Blake for her comments about Mantle. But we also have Weiss Glyphing the one guy, which while it was oh so deserved, she did cause a fuss due to it when Blake was trying to deal with the matter peacefully and had even previously stopped Ruby when she was about to argue back. It’s good to see Weiss not dealing with any racist garbage thrown at Blake, but it was not the best way to deal with it when Blake had it under control, and that may very well be something that we see touched on more and more with the plot as a whole. Not just regarding Faunus racism, but regarding the conflict of Mantle vs Atlas.

We have the propaganda being spewed in Mantle not just by Ironwood but also from WInter. Something that Weiss is clearly unhappy about, and something that may cause friction down the line. We have the Ace-Ops, who going by the opening is going to play a major part in the volume. Which funny how they showed up to arrest the gang… but none of the vast amounts of security forces were around to stop the Grimm. Sure Penny was there and she is officially Mantles protector, but a good chunk of the Grimm were stopped by our heroes. So much for looking out for Mantle’s safety, huh Ironwood? Clover doesn’t even listen to Qrow or ask to see his license for proof of it… okay yeah, Qrow would still be arrested for the unauthorized ship, but still. There are so many small things that show us exactly how oppressed the people of Mantle are, and we’re probably going to see even more of that unrest and protest as we go on. Especially with this Robyn Hill character that we see is running for Council, and against an Atlesian tycoon. And I have a good guess at who that tycoon may be…

Chapter Two Predictions

Introducing a new section to the reviews! Which I will also add to the Red vs Blue reviews when that starts up again (2020, hurry the heck up!). But yeah, I’m gonna start doing predictions and see how well I do… or more likely, how badly I do. It’s all for fun though, so keep that in mind.

So the gang has been arrested and is going up to Atlas. So we’ll probably get to see that and get to compare it to the worn-down Mantle. We see in the trailer that Ruby and Ironwood are talking, so chances are Ironwood will recognize them and hear them out. If we’re lucky, he may have gotten the letter that Qrow sent as well. Now whether hell license the kids or not I’m not sure, but he clearly is going to allow them to work with Ace-Ops (likely under his strict rules) so it could be that or he’ll mark it as Community Service to make up for the charges against them. I can also see him deciding to take Oscar under his wing both for his own safety due to Ozpin, and/or to properly train the kid since even with Oz’s muscle memory, he needs all that he can get. After that, the gang is able to get their new gear, get some haircuts, etc. Only one IDK what’s going to happen to is Qrow… but he’s likely gonna do whatever the Hell he wants or Ironwood’s gonna give him the harder jobs. But we’ll find out soon enough.

Episode Stats

Favorite Character: Pietro and Penny Polendina Favorite Scene: RWBYJNORQ vs The Grimm Least Favorite Scene: The intro before they went into Mantle since it was just re-establishment exposition. Favorite Voice Actor: Taylor McNee (Penny Polendina) Favorite Animation: Either the Weis and Ren combo on the Grim or Ruby slaying the Grimm. Final Ranking: 8.5/10

Final Thoughts

We are off to a very good start! We get to see Mantle and understand exactly the state that it, as well as Atlas, are in. We get a nice action sequence. We get a lot of setup for things later, like the propaganda and introduction fo the Ace-Ops. But most of all, we have Pietro finally appearing and, of course, the return of Penny. Not my favorite premiere, but it did its job and was a very satisfying watch. So I say job well-done CRWBY! It sure as Hell makes me excited for what’s ahead!

[aion-rsa]

What If…? Episode 8 Review: A Very Ultron Apocalypse

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This article contains spoilers for Marvel’s What If…? episode 8.

Episode 8 of Marvel’s What If…?, entitled ‘What if… Ultron Won?’, housed some of the best animated sequences of the series so far. We’ve seen some great stuff from the show’s animation team to date, but they really had a chance to flaunt some incredible visuals in this one by keeping the central story fairly simple and the cast of characters small.

Here, we got to find out what would have happened if Ultron had snagged the vibranium body he had made for him in Avengers: Age of Ultron instead of losing it to the creation of Vision, and it turns out that the Avengers saved more than this world when they successfully completed that mission back in the day.

Now, if you’re a regular here and often read our weekly What If…? reviews, you may already know that they have a bit of a unique format – more of a breakdown that we hope will satisfy die-hard Marvel fans but still help bring those less familiar with the MCU up to speed.

With that in mind, it’s time to dig deeper into ‘What if… Ultron Won?’

Required viewing

It definitely helps to have seen Avengers: Age of Ultron since that’s the backstory you need for this episode, but there are callbacks to Black Widow, Avengers: Endgame, Avengers: Infinity War, and Captain America: The Winter Soldier, too.

Voice cast

Jeffrey Wright is our Watcher, Jeremy Renner is Clint Barton/Hawkeye, Lake Bell is Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow, Toby Jones is Arnim Zola, Benedict Cumberbatch is Doctor Strange, Josh Keaton is Steve Rogers, Mick Wingert is Tony Stark/Iron Man, and Alexandra Daniels is Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel.

Ross Marquand, who previously voiced Red Skull in both What If…?, Avengers: Infinity War, and Avengers: Endgame, takes over from James Spader as Ultron.

What’s different

In an apocalyptic wasteland that used to be Moscow, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff search for a way to finally defeat Ultron in a world where he successfully implanted himself in Vision’s vibranium body during the events of Avengers: Age of Ultron, and stuck to his deadly plan to wipe out humanity.

Ultron eventually gets the nuclear codes and launches the world’s nukes during a sequence that once again kills Kenny Tony Stark. Dispatching Thanos with unbelievable ease upon his arrival, Ultron then takes the rest of the Infinity Stones for himself and lays waste to the rest of the universe.

Sakaar, Ego and more are destroyed, and although Captain Marvel takes a pretty good crack at ending Ultron’s diabolical purge, she also fails to get the job done. With his mission complete, Ultron is at a loss until he becomes aware of The Watcher, and realizes that there are still countless universes waiting to be wrecked.

Back on Earth, Clint and Natasha are hunting through the KGB archives. The Watcher almost intervenes when it seems like the duo won’t find what they’re looking for, but Natasha eventually grabs a box containing a file with the location of the last known copy of Arnim Zola’s data-banked brain, as previously seen in Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

Zola agrees to help them under pressure, and Clint uses an arrow to upload Zola into an Ultron sentry. Unfortunately, Zola’s not able to reach the hive mind and save the day because Ultron’s off world having a spectacularly-animated multiversal punch-up with The Watcher, and so Clint has to sacrifice himself to save Natasha in an almost exact reversal of their goodbye sequence in Avengers: Endgame.

As Ultron faces off against The Watcher in an eye-popping, multiverse-breaking scene, we get a chance to see a Galactus-esque version of Ultron, an Earth populated by Skrulls, and a version of the world where Steve Rogers is being sworn in as President of the United States.

This isn’t just a fun Easter egg for fans: What If…? writer A. C. Bradley repeatedly pitched an episode of the series that would adapt the Marvel Comics story “What If Captain America Had Been Elected President?” by Mike W. Barr and Herb Trimpe, and envisioned the installment paying homage to The West Wing. Sadly, that idea didn’t fly, but we have this fun moment in the episode to console ourselves with.

How does it work out?

In the end, Ultron gets so close to eliminating The Watcher that he’s at a loss and begrudgingly consults with Strange Supreme, who we haven’t seen since he broke his own world and got a Watcher scolding at the end of episode 4. It looks like Stephen might have what it takes to finally resolve the Ultron situation, but we shall have to wait and see.

The Watcher’s reluctance to intervene, given his oath, does seem to be buttering us up for November’s live action MCU entry, Eternals. Ahead of the movie’s release, many Marvel fans have wondered why the hell those ten immortal, superpowered beings didn’t step up to help humanity throughout its many apocalyptic woes, and The Watcher is shaping up to be a prime example of why standing idly by while atrocities play out won’t ever truly cut the mustard with those involved in said atrocities, or indeed us – the Watchers watching The Watcher watch.

Nevertheless, it will be interesting to see the team-up between The Watcher and Strange Supreme in next week’s finale.

Standout moments

I’ve touched on a few standout moments above, but seeing Ultron in near-Galactus form was a sight to behold, and I know I’m not the only one who felt that way because Galactus was soon trending on Twitter after the episode started streaming.

It feels like Marvel are pondering which classic comics villains to introduce next, and that we’re tantalizingly close to seeing Doctor Doom, Galactus, The Beyonder and more join Kang as multiversal threats. But every time we start speculating about the likes of Mephisto in WandaVision or Doom in Loki, Marvel unwittingly kicks the can down the road again. We’re just gonna have to calm the hell down!

Seeing Natasha fight with Red Guardian’s shield was truly a joyful experience, as was seeing Thanos sliced neatly down the middle by Ultron – perfectly balanced, as all things should be! I know Vision was injured in Avengers: Infinity War, but would it have been that easy to kill Thanos if he hadn’t been? Come on.

Sorry, but Tony Stark dying over and over again is just plain funny now. I think there was supposed to be an episode where he lived in this season, but it maybe got moved to Season 2? The result is that he has absolutely become the Kenny of What If…? and honestly if they don’t somehow kill him again in the finale it will be a bit of a let down for me.

There were several moments in this episode where I was genuinely bowled over by the animation work on display. I know I’ve talked about it before, but this animation style doesn’t always work for me, and I do still think there were more visually creative ways to approach this series. However, the style has definitely been a good match for a couple of installments, and this was one of them.

See you next week! Same Watcher time! Same Watcher streaming service! In the meantime, if you want to dig deeper into What If…?, please consider subscribing to Marvel Standom on the Den of Geek YouTube channel, where we dish out weekly episodes on all the new Marvel TV series, trailers and movie releases. Can’t stand our faces? That’s fair! You can listen to Marvel Standom on Spotify and Apple, too.

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[evakuality]

Episode seven of this ongoing series of mine: one in which I spend far too much time on one set of clips because the differences fascinated me too much.  The earlier episodes can be found here:

Episode one          Episode two          Episode three

Episode four          Episode five          Episode six

The guru talks in these two episodes are so interesting because they are very different.  First, the dynamic between each pair is quite distinct.  Eskild reassures Isak immediately that he’s ‘sick’ of hearing him apologise for what he said about being ‘gay gay’ and it’s clear that Isak has been angsting over this since it happened and getting on Eskild’s nerves with the depth of his apologies.  Then the teasing when Eskild works out that Isak wants some gay guruing is adorable, but Isak is unwilling to explicitly say ‘you’re my guru’ despite reluctantly agreeing to it in principle.  He’s ready to walk away from the conversation before doing that and Eskild knows when he’s gone too far and lets Isak talk.  Hans is a lot less welcoming when Matteo first shows up, though he does say he doesn’t need to apologise and Matteo says he wasn’t planning to.  At this point, Hans has been absent for a while and so this is probably their first meeting post-disastrous ‘gay gay’ talk.  That it’s so different to Isak’s shows just how different this dynamic is.  Matteo doesn’t feel a need to apologise which tends to suggest he doesn’t feel like what he said was ‘wrong’ the way Isak does.  And in fairness to him, Hans’s reaction was much less harsh than Eskild’s and there has been time to chill since they last saw each other.  Still.  It means the idea that Matteo is trying to figure stuff out rather than judging seems more likely.  Matteo is, however, much happier to tell Hans he’s his guru ‘if it makes you happy’ so each in his own way lets his guru know what he means to him and how valued he finds him.  It’s just that they have very different styles of doing that.  Isak needs to let Eskild know how sorry he is, while Matteo needs to make Hans feel accepted and happy.

The talk itself between Isak and Eskild is very hesitant and I think Isak already knows what Eskild will say, he just wants to talk about it a bit.  It is an awkward situation and Even is still very opaque at this point so trying to decipher meaning is hard for Isak who’s still navigating his first real experience with genuine emotions.  Eskild tells Isak that guys don’t often break up with girls to be with other guys, and yet that’s exactly what Matteo has done.  Isak’s been given a fairly explicit reminder that a long relationship isn’t easily ditched and is left just as unsatisfied as before.  Matteo, on the other hand, is told that David is probably not ready to come out (which is true but not in the way Hans means, but I digress).  And Matteo is given a course of action when he asks what he should do: wait for him to be ready to stand up for himself or give up on him.  It’s very definitive, unlike Eskild’s wishy washy attempt to make things clear.  Eskild is not very reassuring here and his guruing is hilariously awkward as he tries to say what he thinks but also tries not to upset Isak.  Bonus: saying he’s not God and so he doesn’t really know everything while he tries to be not too harsh.  

This segues nicely into Matteo’s version because his is entirely bound by church and religious activities.  Hans, who is preparing an Easter meal for them all, takes Matteo away and literally into a church to have this discussion.  He may not be God, but there’s a clear suggestion that God won’t judge harshly as they have this conversation literally under his roof.  This has a lot of relevance both to each character’s relationship with his mother, and also to his relationship with religion.  Isak has effectively rejected his mother’s religion and all the texts we see from her to this point are just religious.  Matteo gets religious texts from his mother, but they are also peppered with other things like best wishes for his exams.  Isak doesn’t see his mother anymore and is visibly irritated with her religion being foisted on him, whereas Matteo is much more sanguine and has a much closer relationship with his mother.  In fact, she expects that she might see him at church this day and while he fobs her off because ‘I have to study’ it’s clear that they have some contact outside of text messages about bible verses.  This means that for Matteo, having this chat here is comforting rather than scary as it might be for Isak, who is still unsure what his parents might think of him being gay and who isn’t really willing to use that descriptor for himself as yet.  To Isak, church is something he builds up to doing, where for Matteo it’s a familiar thing, maybe not actively preset in his life but not something to be wary of.  Matteo and Hans discuss something of the comfort you can get from religion and even indulge in some rituals before they leave.  There’s hope here, for Matteo, as he’s reminded that his mother is on medication and is feeling better and he hears about the steps Hans’s has taken.  It’s a strong suggestion that nothing is static and things may look bad, but they can improve.  He’s left in a much better position than Isak at the end of this conversation.

Another difference is how defeated Matteo looks before he goes to talk to Hans (which also emphasises how much he gets out of the conversation they end up having; it’s a much lighter matteo we see at the end than at the start).  He’s so sad, despite having had such a good talk with Jonas about all his stuff.  It hasn’t been enough to make him feel completely at ease because for him it was never about ‘will people accept who I am’ and more about wanting to feel something.  So his relief isn’t as immediate as Isak’s.  Not to say Isak is truly happy here, he’s clearly very worried/concerned about what’s happening with Even, but a lot of his issues were what Jonas would think and that’s been settled and so he’s a lot less caught up in the whole sad mess.  For this reason, we never see Isak destroy (or rather damage because it does come back later) any of the gifts/messages from Even the way Matteo does to David’s ‘it’s not you it’s me’ drawing.  That’s partly because Matteo is a more impulsive and aggressive character but also partly because the issues are/were different for him and so he’s still a maelstrom of emotion.  This only makes the end of this scene more poignant, of course, because for Matteo it’s the real start of healing.  For Isak that process was well underway with the Jonas talk.

This difference in what they were feeling carries through into the scenes with Sana and Amira.  Matteo’s in fact, combines two scenes between Isak and Sana and so hits with everything it has right in one go.  But even if they were split as Isak’s are, the tone is different.  Isak and Sana are in school and competing for who has the right answer.  Isak is in his element and doesn’t feel a need to make amends with her (mostly because he didn’t drive Sana away the way Matteo did with Amira), and so it’s much more casual than matteo who has set up a study zone and made sure to be prepared and to prove to Amira that he really does value her.  As Isak does with Sana but they show it in different ways.  Isak has intellectual battles with Sana, bouncing ideas off her and sparring with her about their work, proving that he values her brain and her abilities and they both clearly enjoy the debate.  Matteo shows with the way he carefully prepares everything that he’s taking Amira seriously and appreciates her help and effort.  There’s a lot more weight given to Vilde and her ‘are you gay? Yay I love gays’ message to Isak than Kiki’s to Matteo, because for Isak this is his nightmare: everyone finding out and facing once again that possibility of rejection.  The situation panics him a lot.  It becomes obvious as Isak questions her, that Sonja and Emma between them have been telling people and Isak can’t hide from it now.  He’s clearly stressed and anxious about it.  Matteo really doesn’t care if he’s outed in many ways: he’s ready and willing to shower the object of his affection with love and attention as publicly as he’s allowed to.  Having Kiki ‘support’ him this way is just irritating rather than anything that genuinely rattles him.  Having said that, he’s genuinely happy that Amira apologises (in her own roundabout unique way) for what she said about ‘genetic dead ends’ and he thanks her for her support.  Clearly, there are ways he welcomes support and there are ways he doesn’t (or maybe it’s just that he likes Amira and finds Kiki annoying at the best of times).  

The way they come out to the boys is fascinating too.  Isak is effectively forced into it because of the rumours at school which Magnus helpfully updates us and him on in the most oblivious sort of way and makes the whole thing that much harder for Isak, because now it’s ‘hilarious’ that he’s gay.  Matteo is asked about it by Carlos who has heard it through the rumour mill.  Its taken out of his hands a bit, but that doesn’t seem to worry him since he’s far more ready to be open about it already.  For him, the big thing now is whether he can get David back because he still stubbornly ‘can’t believe’ that David means he doesn’t want him (with good reason; it’s obvious they had something good).  We can hear Isak’s nerves in his voice and in the very long pause before he says ‘we had a thing’ whereas Matteo just seems to be stalling because he’s not sure how to say it, not because he’s scared to say it.  Isak is clearly taken aback when the boys starts arguing about bisexuality vs pansexuality as if he’d expected a bigger, weirder reaction, and he’s quick to reiterate for these boys just like he did for Eskild that he’s not ‘gay’ just because he likes Even.  Matteo shares an amused look with Jonas during this same conversation and in his case is very comfortable saying he ‘believes’ he’s gay.  He doesn’t have the same hangups about that side of things, which is becoming more and more clear.  He wants to be ‘normal’ (his word) and also ‘gay’ and wants to reconcile the two things, but he’s still willing to accept the label even with the perceptions that don’t seem to fit him.  The ‘point’ of Matteo’s meetup with the boys is for him to apologise for his behaviour the other day and to make it up and spend time with them so for him the question comes out of nowhere, and yet it doesn’t phase him and he’s not worried about it in the same way Isak is.

One scene that differs for Matteo here is the one where he starts cleaning up his act, literally.  It’s a lovely visual metaphor for his state of mind and how much better he’s feeling now, and it also reminds us of how he feels about David even now when he hasn’t seen him in so long and is basically clinging to hope rather than any real indication that he can salvage anything out of this relationship.  Of course this leads to his conversation with Sara which mirrors Isak’s with Emma later but goes into more depth and in which he has more to apologise for.  I think he makes the leap to Sara here because he knows he feels about David the way she potentially felt about him and so he knows he owes her something.  We see more of how much she means to him compared to the relatively more superficial version Isak does with Emma.  This is partly because Matteo was actually in a relationship with Sara vs Isak and his casual hookups with Emma which she read more into than he promised.  But it’s also partly down to their difference in personality.  Matteo’s caring side is much closer to the surface and he seems to want to shower those he loves with affection.  The biggest example of this is of course David, but it’s also true of others including Sara.  Isak’s caring is hidden behind his sarcasm and grumpy persona and I don’t think it’s a surprise that once he was feeling better with his boys his first reaction is to roast Magnus for having no game.  This is what he’s like when he’s feeling good  Matteo doesn’t do that sort of thing and never has.  Instead we see his genuine concern that Sara has been bottling up her worries about her father and his job.  Having learned for himself that it’s important to talk to people to keep yourself healthy and happy (ish), he offers her the same advice he got.

The drinking scenes with the boys where they coach Isak and Matteo through texting Even and David go mostly the same.  Both boys experience the support and caring of their friends, both talk about irrelevant things with them while they do so and both are talked into basically sending an ultimatum.  They’re both reconnected with these groups and feel welcomed and at ease with them.  The one big difference is the way they greet Even vs David at the door.  They’re both anxious and excited, which we can see in their body language, but Isak takes one look at Even and despite being told to be chill and distant and play hard to get he goes straight in for a kiss and then things progress very quickly from there.  Matteo takes one look at David and has no idea how to react at all.  They stare at each other awkwardly before falling into a hug it seems like they both need.  I think Matteo is still a little more vulnerable and fragile about things, which makes sense because he got a much harsher rejection earlier.  He’s not really in a spot where he’d be ready for sex, even if David was.

This was the last time the episodes really line up properly because the things that happen as we progress are so different and come from such different places that it’s going to be interesting to look at the ways the differences in the two of them affect how they react to what is coming.  There are still similarities, of course, but starting with David’s confession the timing and purpose of events really diverge.

Episode eight can be found here

[ghostbustermelanieking]

locking out the ghosts chapter five

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

s5 fic: spoilers for all souls and a little bit for the pine bluff variant and mind’s eye, part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files.

disclaimer: i’m not trying to be preachy with this chapter in any way, shape, or form. most religious-related stuff is straight from 5x17 all souls, and the rest is just my interpretation of what scully would be feeling during/after the episode. 

warning for discussion of child death (in the context of all souls and emily).

Things are fine afterwards. Fine. They work the Marty Glenn case in Delaware, and things are fine—at least between them. They don't agree on Marty Glenn’s innocence, not at first, but the truth comes to light easily. Marty goes to prison and Mulder seems disappointed. He goes to visit Marty in prison, offers to talk to the judge, but Marty refuses. Waiting outside for him, Scully wonders if he has a crush on Marty, the same way she did on Esther or Jack. If he does, she suspects it will fizzle out to nothing the same way her crushes did. If he does, she can't be jealous, because she's the one who broke up with him.

Time moves forward with ease, cases coming and going, little to no tension arising between them. Nearly before Scully realizes what is happening, it is Easter and her mother is flying down to see Bill and Tara and Matthew again. (She is absolutely delighted with this first grandchild of hers. Somehow, Scully has thought more than once, Emily doesn't exactly count.) She invites Scully, who vehemently denies and tries not to feel hurt. Her mother prods gently, suggesting that they visit Emily’s grave with flowers. Scully knows she means well, but her daughter's name in her mother's mouth after months of silence on the subject stings like a slap across the face. “Thank you, Mom, but it's too soon,” she says instead. “I'd rather stay here. I'll go to Mass.” She's been going to Mass every Sunday lately—she'd started going every now and then after her cancer went into remission, but since Emily, she's gone every Sunday that she's not been out of town on a case. She'd hoped that God could help her find peace.

(She thinks she is starting to find that peace. She'd moved the picture of Emily from her wallet to her desk drawer back in March, where she won't keep accidentally stumbling across it. She hasn't moved the chair in front of the spare room, though. Something inside of her won't let her. Like whatever is inside might get out. Like if she moves the chair, she'll be letting Emily go.)

She goes to the Easter service, and Father McCue asks for her help afterwards. He tells her about the Kernofs, and she feels that familiar pang in her chest when he tells her of their lost daughter Dara. She thinks that he wants her to investigate, until he says, “The Kernofs are devout, but their faith is giving them little comfort. I thought with your background your words might carry a certain weight.” Scully realizes then, the pain in her chest sharpening, that Father McCue wants her to comfort them. Because he knows about what happened to Emily. Her mother must've told him, she hasn't confided in Father McCue about this. He could mean her background in criminal investigations, of course, he could want her to tell them that everything is fine and the girl's death wasn't painful or was inevitable or something to that degree. Or he could want her to relate to them in their shared losses. Either way, he seems to want her to solidify their faith in God.

She doesn't tell him that she doesn't feel like her own faith in God is very strong at the moment, after the things she's seen and experienced. That her recent regular attendance of Mass is an attempt to restore that faith in herself.She tells Father McCue that she's available to meet with the Kernofs on Tuesday. The next day, at work, she considers telling Mulder, but ultimately decides not to. This could be a case, or it could be a simple hour or two spent attempting to comfort the Kernofs. If it turns out to be nothing, there's no need to pull Mulder into all of this.

When Scully goes to see the Kernofs the next day, the husband barely speaks to her. The wife is kinder—an understandably muted kindness. She offers Scully a drink before heading off to find a picture of Dara to show her. She tells her that Dara was found dead in the streets, eyes burned out. She shows her a picture of Dara on her birthday and tells her that their theory is that she was struck by lightning, that they have no idea how she even got out of the house. That she was praying when her father found her. The way Mrs. Kernof describes her husband is painfully similar to everything Scully has been feeling. The lack of understanding as to why God would let an innocent girl die. She agrees to help them.

The coroner clears things up and makes things muddier all at the same time. She tells Scully that the cause of death is unclear, due to the lack of burns anywhere but her eye sockets. The religious overtones are obvious, between the rigored kneeling position Dara is still in and the coroner commenting that it's as if God struck her down. Scully has no idea why God would do something like that.

The coroner hasn't looked into Dara’s birth parents. Scully decides on a whim to involve Mulder, at least to find some information for her. She calls him, but he doesn't answer; he must be busy or something. She leaves him a message urging him to call her back as soon as possible and heads home. It starts to rain, hard. She steadies her breathing, staring straight ahead out of the windshield. She keeps her mind firmly on Dara Kernof and doesn't let her mind wander from the case. It doesn't matter. She is going to help this family find peace. Dara Kernof is not Emily, and she is going to find her killer. Or at least find out what happened to her.

At home, she flips through the crime scene photos, looking for any clues as to what could've happened. She finds nothing, Dara's charred eye sockets staring out at her. They start to look as if they are pleading, crying out for her help. She falters. She gives into this pull in her stomach, her heart, pulls open her desk drawer and digs out Emily’s picture underneath all the stuff she slid it under. Her daughter's bright face grins out at her from underneath banners and a party hat. A birthday party she never saw, that she should've been the one throwing. A week is not enough time with your baby. She wonders if the Kernofs are thinking about all the birthdays they will never celebrate with their daughter, all the years they've lost.

Overwhelmed, she sighs, letting her eyes slip closed. The rain pours. It had rained the night she'd arranged Emily’s funeral, Mulder's hand squeezing her knee for comfort as she called the funeral parlor where the Sims had been buried. She thought it was fitting, like the sky was broken open and sobbing. She hoped it never stopped. But the sun had shone the day of the funeral. It felt wrong.

The phone rings and she scoops it up, answering with a simple, “Hello.”

“Hey, Scully,” Mulder says on the other end, voice rushed. “I’m returning your call.”

“Hi,” she says. “Uh, something’s come up. I was, uh, hoping that you could do me a favor.”

“Why? What's going on?”

“This isn’t official FBI business so I was hoping that we could keep it outside of work,” she explains.

“Hey, look,” he blurts, “I’m, uh…  I’m kind of tailing a possible suspect right now, so I’m kind of rushed, so, uh…”

“I need some birth and adoptive records on a Dara Kernof.”

“Who?”

“Dara Kernof. I can’t tell you much more than that, Mulder. I’m sorry,” she says, somewhat apologetically.

“You want to give me a hint? Anything?” he prods.

“Not until you get me those records,” says Scully.

She expects more prodding on his part, but instead he says, “All right, I'll talk to you later,” before hanging up. He must've really been busy.

Scully sets the phone down, rubbing her temples wearily. Resisting the urge to look at the photo again, she slides it back in her desk, shuffling the crime scene photos and sliding them back into the folder. She can't work anymore tonight. She takes a scalding shower and goes to bed. She tries not to think.

The next morning, the police department that investigated Dara's death calls her early in the morning. A girl, Paula Koklos, has died in an identical way to Dara Kernof. A girl who is physically identical to Dara Kernof. Another young girl dead. Scully goes immediately.

Mulder finds her there, somehow. He's eager, immediately intrigued by the entire case. Scully tells him that she didn't want to involve him, although she's not entirely sure why. Maybe because this feels too personal. Or maybe because of the way he's treating it like some big, magical X-File. He's found Dara's birth records, he tells her. He's found that she was a quadruplet. That there are two other girls out there, Dara and Paula’s sisters, who may still be alive.

Mulder's theory is that some religious wacko is the murderer, based off of the position the girls died in and the upside-down cross found in Paula’s room. The social worker—one Aaron Starkey—directs them to Paula’s intended adopted father, one Father Gregory. They leave immediately, some unspoken agreement that Mulder would be consulting.

In the car, Mulder asks the inevitable question. “So, not to prod, Scully, but why didn't you want to involve me? Want this one all to yourself?”

Scully swallows, cheek pressed against the window. “No, I… thought you wouldn't be interested. Religious imagery and all,” she says lightly.

“I'm always up for a case,” Mulder teases. “Even with religious imagery.”

He's never seemed very interested in those in the past, but Scully doesn't say this. They're mostly quiet until they reach The Church of St. Peter the Sinner. “Unusual name,” Mulder cracks.

The church is just as unusual as its name, and Father Gregory is a fitting pastor. He claims to have wanted to protect Paula, to have known her birth mother. He seems to think that Paula and Dara's death was the will of God. Mulder thinks he's full of crap. Surprisingly—or maybe unsurprisingly, considering Mulder's beliefs that have been made clear in the past—he seems to think that there is no supernatural element to this case. He acts like he doesn't know what she's talking about when she brings it up.

“Well,” Scully says in response to this, “Dara Kernof was baptized on the day of her death. She was sanctified by the ritual sacrament… submerged in the spirit.”

“And why would God allow this to happen? Why do bad things happen to good people? Religion has masqueraded as the paranormal since the dawn of time to justify some of the most horrible acts in history.”

“I was raised to believe that God has his reasons, however mysterious.”

“He may well have his reasons but he seems to use a lot of psychotics to carry out his job orders,” Mulder says, like he's trying to be funny, like he's trying to be cocky. “You want to find out who did this? I suggest you autopsy the body of Paula Koklos before it’s interred, before the man who killed her has a chance to find her sisters.”

He heads for the car, climbing into the driver's side. Scully follows wearily. This is why she didn't want to bring him on; because he always freezes up on religious cases, becomes rigid in his disbelief in those things. It's infuriating, because if this were any other case, she knows he would believe every word out of Father Gregory’s mouth. But once again, they've found themselves at odds. Where they usually are.

She goes to begin the autopsy on Paula Koklos and hallucinates her baby on the metal slab. Emily’s pleading eyes, blue as her mother's and her sister's. She looks so small under the blanket. She calls her Mommy. “Mommy, please,” she says, pleading, and Scully can feel herself crumbling. This is not real, she tells herself after turning away and finding Paula there when she turns back. She is trying very hard not to cry. You are seeing things as a result of stress brought on by the similarity of this case to a traumatic experience you've recently had to deal with. But this doesn't erase the image. The sound of her daughter's voice calling her Mommy, calling for help. And she can't help but wonder if this is all a sign, if God is sending her visions. If this is all happening for a reason and she is an integral part in his plan.

She finishes the autopsy. She doesn't know how, but she finishes it. Types up the transcript and goes home. She crawls into bed and finds herself unable to sleep, tossing and turning and pushing at the layers of blankets. She's so cold. It's April in Virginia, and she is freezing.

It's not until Scully gets up and goes into the living room to retrieve her photo of Emily that she can fall asleep. She curls, shivering, in the bed with the only thing she has left of her daughter under her hand. She wakes the next morning with the photo a little crumpled under her cheek. She thinks she dreamed, but she can’t remember what about.

---

The autopsy bay is crowded the next morning. Scully decides to reexamine the results of the Paula Koklos case, having judged that she wasn’t in her right mind the night before. (She couldn't really have found those winglike things, she had to have imagined or misdiagnosed it.) She is putting up the x-rays when Mulder calls, with the news that he may have tracked down another sister and that he and the social worker Aaron Starkey are looking for her in DC. He hangs up on her before she can finish explaining the night before. Less than an hour later, he's calling to tell her that the third girl is dead and Father Gregory is in custody.

Hearing the news, Scully can't help but feel a rush of frustration. I should've been there, she wants to scream. God must want her to save these girls; that's why he sent Emily to her. But another one is dead, another innocent life. She is failing.

Father Gregory insists that he is protecting the girls, that the devil wants to kill them. He tries to find common ground with Scully.  “You know. You’ve already guessed… what they are.” He tries to convince her to let him go so that the fourth girl can be protected.

Scully doesn't. Aside from the fact that Mulder would think her insane, she doesn't think it's necessary. Father Gregory may play an integral part, but she is going to save the fourth girl (who Mulder identifies as Roberta Dyer directly after their interrogation of the Father). She has to be the one—why else would God have sent her the vision of Emily? Those who have visions have some sort of purpose, and this is hers.

If only Mulder knew that. “Don't let this guy get in your head,” he tells her encouragingly, almost comfortingly. “That’s the last thing you want. Sometimes the most twisted ones are the most persuasive.”

“Mulder, he knows where she is,” she says.

“Well, that’s okay. As long as he’s locked up here, it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re not going to find her. I think you’re being misled,” she says in a rush.

“By who?” he wants to know, and she has no answer. None that he'd believe, anyway. “Scully, I think you’re the one who’s being misled. Not just willingly, but willfully. I’ve never seen you more vulnerable or susceptible or more easily manipulated and it scares me because I don’t know why.”

“I saw Emily,” she says, because maybe it will make him understand. He's believed people on visions of Samantha before—the miracle healer from years ago, for one thing. Second time they've mentioned her name aloud in months. “She came to me in a vision.”

Mulder doesn't say anything. She looks away, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. He steps closer, puts his hand on the back of her neck and leans close enough that their foreheads are almost touching. He looks off to the side as if checking for someone, and for an absurd moment, Scully thinks he's going to kiss her forehead in the middle of a damn police station to comfort her. She doesn't even think she'd mind at this point.

Instead, he says, “I think you should step away.”

He steps back, hand coming down to cover her shoulder, and she looks off to the side, blinking hard before looking back at him. “Personal issues are making you lose your objectivity,” he's saying, “clouding your judgement.”

Like that hasn't been an issue for him on a thousand goddamn cases. She's lost people too, now, damnit. She should get the same pass he's had for a while now. “You go,” she says out loud, nearly before she realizes she is saying it. “Go find the girl. I'm going to finish up with Father Gregory.” Because it's easier to agree than argue, especially in situations like this, and damnit, is this how he felt when she told him he should be off Modell’s case? She'd felt she was right at the time, and surely that's the same way Mulder feels. That he's protecting her from getting herself or others hurt. But then again, he was right on the Modell case and she feels she is right now. She knows she is right, she has to be.

“Okay,” Mulder is saying softly, taking the folder from her and walking off. Scully swallows, doesn't say anything else. She looks back down at the photo of Roberta Dyer, running her fingernails over the edge. There has to be a way to save her. She can't fail someone else.

But any hope of Father Gregory helping her is lost—he's found dead in the locked interrogation room, skin harshly blistered and burned with a guard right outside.

It takes a long time for everything to be cleared up, for them to interview everyone nearby about anything they may have heard or saw or done, and to take the body away. Scully puts in a request to do the autopsies, but she's not allowed to that night. So instead, she heads out to her car at close to ten, planning to call Mulder on the road and touch base with him. But her key won't turn in the lock of the driver's side.

Brow furrowing, she shuffles the keys in her hand, planning to try again when the phone rings. She pulls it out of her pocket and pulls out the antenna, putting it up to her ear. “Hello.”

“Yeah, hi, Scully, it's me,” Mulder says in a rush.

“He's dead, Mulder,” she tells him, bluntly.

“Who?”

“Father Gregory,” she says, fiddling with her keys. “They found him alone in the interrogation room. No one can figure it out. There was a guard sitting right outside the room.” The keys tumble from her hand and she kneels to pick them up, still holding the phone to her ear.

“We didn’t find her. The fourth girl—she was here,” Mulder is saying. But something seems to outweigh that. A strange whispering sound, and black shoes in front of her that have appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She didn't hear anyone else out here.

“Hey, Scully,” Mulder says. She doesn't respond. She looks slowly up, slowly… “Scully, you there? Answer me.” It's a man, light protruding from behind him, and yet it can't be a man. “Scully?” Mulder prods on the other end, and she can't answer because she's staring up in horror as the man's face shifts, changes to an eagle and then a lion, and Mulder is still calling her name, and the light grows brighter as the faces change…

When it fades, she is alone, still crouched on the ground with her keys in hand, her knees aching. The thing is gone. Her phone is silent in her other hand.

Scully gets to her feet, trembling a little, and scans the parking lot quickly. No one—no one going to their car or driving away, no men with many faces. The only lights are fluorescent. Shaking her head hard, she tries her key again. It works this time.

Her phone rings again a few minutes later. She answers it. “Scully?” Mulder shouts into the phone, frantic, before she can even put the phone up to her ear.

She tucks it between her cheek and her shoulder, says, “I'm here.”

Mulder's sigh is one of both of relief and of exasperation. “Thank God,” he says shakily. “I thought you were… I almost called the police.”

Somehow, Scully thinks bitterly, digging her fingernails into the leather of the steering wheel, I don't think God is who you would be thanking. “I'm fine,” she says.

“What the hell happened?” Mulder demands.

She swallows dryly. “I… I saw something.” She did, she can't deny it. For the first time in a long time, she can't deny it. Not after everything that's happened on this case.

“What? Another vision?”

Scully licks her lips. “I suppose you could say that,” she says carefully—because that thing couldn't have really been there, the same way Emily wasn't there. God is trying to speak to her.

“Jesus, Scully,” Mulder says in quiet awe. “This case… what the hell is it doing to you?”

She clenches her jaw, holding the wheel tighter. “Mulder…”

“I'm worried about you,” he's saying. “I think you need to walk away from this case, Scully. You seeing things… that's definitely not normal.”

“And you seeing things is normal?” she snaps. “What about you, Mulder? You see things on every case we're on ,and you never get booted off for that. And you're always furious when you are! Remember how upset you were when Skinner and I pulled you off the Bowman case?”

He doesn't say anything for a minute. “That's… different.”

“Why? Because you were right then and you think I'm wrong now?”

Mulder's silence is longer this time. Scully stares straight ahead at the road, glaring at the headlights across the median. Something bigger than a religious fanatic murderer is going on here—she just wishes someone could see it besides her.

“I'm just worried about you, Scully,” Mulder says finally. “Worried about your…”

“Call me if you find the fourth girl, Mulder,” Scully says tightly and hangs up, letting the phone drop in the seat beside her.

---

She goes to see Father McCue the next morning instead of going into the police station, to get his opinion on the things she's been seeing. If she could just figure out what God's trying to tell her…

Father McCue identifies the thing from the parking garage as a Seraphim from her description, an angel with four faces. The story he tells of the Nephilim, the children of the Seraphim and mortals, and the way that they are called back to heaven to protect them from the Devil, feels too familiar. It feels too much like what is happening. But Father McCue doesn't agree. He thinks she is imagining it based off of hearing the story a long time ago. Clear that she will get nowhere with him on the subject, he tells Scully that he believes God has his reasons. In the moment, she believes that, too.

Directly outside of the church, the social worker, Aaron Starkey, shows up and tells Scully that Mulder has been trying to reach her because they found the fourth girl at Father Gregory’s church. She rides with him down there, panic coursing through her the whole time. Whatever happens, she has to protect the girl. She has to protect Roberta.

When they get to the church, Scully goes straight in while Starkey lingers behind. The church is empty and silent, no sign of Mulder or any police ever having been there. When she turns to question Starkey about it, he answers in a low, menacing tone. She looks down and sees horns atop his shadow. Like the devil. She swallows and turns away to look for Roberta.

She finds Roberta under the stairs, cowering in fear. She reassures her, offers her a way out, and the girl tentatively reaches out to take her hand. Scully leads her further into the church, away from Starkey’s angry demands, muttering reassuring things. And then the light comes.

The light fills up the room, blinding her. Starkey is protesting in an inhuman voice. Roberta steps towards the light. Scully holds onto her hand, pleading with her to stay back. She can't let the girl die, she's still so young…

She looks again and sees Emily. Emily asking her to let her go. Emily calling her Mommy. “Emily,” she says in a trembling voice. She could never let her go, not her daughter…

“Mommy, please let me go,” Emily says. “Mommy, please.”

Her little fingers slip out of Scully's.

Scully watches her walk away, and she cries out for her. Not her daughter, not again. “Emily?” she calls, desperately, pleading, but Emily steps into the light anyway. “Oh, God,” she whispers, eyes slipping closed.

When she opens them, Emily is gone. When she opens them, the light is gone and so is Starkey. When she opens them, Roberta is dead.

Weakened by grief, by fear, by guilt, Scully collapses into a chair.

She tells herself that Roberta is in heaven now, where she'll be happy with her sisters. (She reminds herself that Emily is there, too, and she is in a better place.) She tells herself that this is God's will, that his means are mysterious but there was a reason he made her see Emily. He wanted her to let Roberta go. She tells herself she did the right thing.

But it is impossible to believe these things with Roberta stiff in her kneeling position only feet away. Her charred eyes look like they're calling for help, the same way Paula’s and Dara's did. An innocent girl. Scully calls for someone to come and get the body. When she hangs up, she bursts into tears.

---

When Mulder gets to Father Gregory’s church, he arrives just in time to see the stretcher being taken out of the building. The bizarrely-shaped black body bag that has the impression of kneeling.

“Oh, shit,” he whispers, moving into a jog. “Scully?” he calls out, though he has no idea if she's here, and enters the building in time to see her slumped in a chair in the makeshift sanctuary. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her torso, as if to try and shield herself. Her eyes are haunted, red and puffy.

“Scully.” He skids to a stop in front of her, putting his hands on her shoulder. “Scully, what happened? Was that Roberta Dyer?”

Scully nods, jaw clenched. She's looking at something somewhere past her; her hands clutch her arms tighter. “She's dead,” she says in a hollow voice.

“Are you okay?” Scully nods. Mulder doesn't let it end there, plows on like a freight train. “What the hell happened? Were you too late?”

She doesn't answer, still not looking at him.

Mulder sighs, collapsing in a chair beside her. Another girl dead, an innocent girl they should've been able to save. God, this must be killing Scully. And if she was here… “How did you know she was here?” he wants to know.

She finally turns to meet his eyes. “Starkey brought me,” she says numbly, but slightly accusatory. “He said that you were trying to reach me, that you had found the girl.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he says, hands flat against his knees, pressing down. “I thought you were going to take some time off. I thought that was what we agreed on last night, after you didn't answer me on the phone for about ten minutes and scared the shit out of me.”

Scully's shoulders tense even more, something he would've found impossible a few minutes ago. “I thought you needed me to come out here. That's what Starkey told me.”

“I never said a word to Starkey.” Mulder's hands ball into nervous fists on his knees. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Gone,” Scully mutters. Her arms are hanging loosely by her side now, her fingers trembling.  

“Gone where?”

“I don't know. Mulder, I think Starkey might’ve been who we've been looking for. I think he might’ve had a hand in what happened to those girls.”

“So, what, you think he's God?” Mulder demands. “Or the Devil? How did he kill Roberta Dyer?”

Scully's mouth thins. “Mulder, you're not being fair. Of all the theories I've gone out on a limb for, because you believed them…”

“This is different.”

Something inside Scully seems to snap here. “How? How is it different? An innocent girl is dead, and I should've been able to stop it!” she explodes. “And maybe I would've if I hadn't… if you hadn't… we are partners, Mulder, and goddamnit, you believe in everything, everything except for God. You conveniently decide not to believe, and you're not there when I need you… when I need your help…”

“I thought you didn't need my help,” Mulder says in a low voice, hating every word as it comes out of his mouth. Hating himself. “You made that pretty clear in San Diego.”

Scully flinches, looks away. He notices just then that her hands are shaking; her hands are shaking, and he's bringing up San Diego, and fuck, he's such an idiot. Fuck.

Scully stands, her eyes teary but her face steely as ever. Her voice, too, strong and clear as a bell as she says, “Fuck you, Mulder.” And then she gets up and turns to leave.

---

The next day is Saturday, so Scully has more than enough reason not to go into work. That's good; she's tired of taking sick days. She downs sleeping pills and sleeps for hours at a time. She dreams tumultuous dreams of the quadruplets staring at her with their charred eyes, pleading for help. And Emily, looking tiny among the angels and demons and the wash of bright lights. She reaches for help that Scully can't give. She cries out for her, calls her Mommy.

Scully wakes with a start, hobbles to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. It doesn't help. She crouches, trembling, on the tile and presses her face into the cotton of her towel so she won't have to hear her sobs echoing off the empty walls. She mutters something again and again into the fabric. It might be I'm sorry.

Eventually, Scully picks herself up off the cold tile and goes to sit on the couch. She turns on the TV with no idea what is playing. She loses hours at a time, the way she did the first few days after San Diego. She remembers dinner when it starts to get dark outside, goes into the kitchen and microwaves a frozen meal.

Her mother called at some point during the day to check on her; they hadn't talked for awhile, and she wants to know if Scully is planning to come to Mass the next day. When the phone rings again, Scully assumes it's her mother calling again. She lets it go to voicemail and is somewhat surprised when Mulder's voice crackles over the answering machine. “Hey, Scully, it's me,” he says. “If you're screening this, pick up. I'm worried about you.”

Scully doesn't pick up. She chews on her thumbnail absently. Mulder sighs. “I'm sorry, Scully. I shouldn't have said what I said yesterday. I don't blame you for Roberta Dyer's death. God knows I've fucked up that way plenty of times, and you're always there to pull me back from the edge. I know now… how hard this case was on you. I wish… I wish I'd figured it out sooner.” He sounds miserable. He sounds sorry. Tears well up at Scully's eyes; she stares down at the plastic case of shitty spaghetti she didn't heat up enough.

“I'm sorry for bringing up San Diego, Scully. I'm not mad at you about that. I'm not… I know I fucked up again. I've done that too much lately. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And I just wanted you to know…” The beep of the answering machine cuts him off.

Scully sniffles, wiping her eyes. She climbs out of her chair and curls into the side of the couch, TV droning on in the background. She thinks about calling Mulder. She thinks about visiting Emily’s grave. She thinks about driving all night to clear the images in her head. She wonders if God will ever forgive her.

At some point, she crawls off the couch and pads into the kitchen, retrieves the bottle of wine from the fridge.

---

Sometime in the middle of the night, when he's half-awake on his couch, he makes the decision. The idea had sprung up when she didn't answer his phone call, but it solidified in his mind when he got the call from Scully's mom, saying that she'd called Scully several times without an answer. Her worry only rose when Mulder said he hadn't heard from her since Friday, and that she had a hard time on the latest case. “I know how hard the past few months have been on Dana,” Maggie had said, “and I feel awful that I haven't been there for her more. I'm… I'm honestly not sure she wants me to be.” Mulder hadn't said anything, scraping his teeth over his lower lip. Scully has barely mentioned her mother in the months since San Diego, but he suspects she has been avoiding her. He knows facing her family after Emily wasn't exactly easy.

“I've been worried about her, too,” he said aloud.

Maggie had paused for a minute before saying, “Would you mind letting me know when you hear from her? Or maybe even going to check on her? I think she'd rather hear from you than from me.”

Somehow, I don't think so, Mulder had thought, but he agreed to call her when Scully contacted him. And since then, he's been waiting. Trying to decide what to do.

And around midnight, it really does seem clear: he should go ahead and check on her. It's late, but she might still be awake. He can tell her that her mother is worried. He can tell her he is sorry. And he really is worried about her: the state that she was in when she left the church on Friday would worry anyone. He knows Scully, and he knows she can't be dealing well with any of this. He knows he should've been there for her.

He makes the decision and he gets up from the couch, shoving his feet in shoes and grabbing his keys. He just wants to know she's okay.

At Scully's place, he has to let himself in because she doesn't answer his repeated knocks. Inside, he finds a nearly empty bottle of wine, a glass shattered on the floor. “Scully?” he calls out cautiously. “Scully, are you okay?”

He heads towards Scully's bedroom, but stops in his tracks in the hall. He sees her lying on the floor in front of a door, in front of a chair wedged under a door. She's wrapped in a blanket and huddled on the ground. She's wearing an overlarge t-shirt that's he's stunned to realize is his—the Knicks shirt he's had for years. She's breathing slowly in sleep, but she jolts as soon as Mulder touches her shoulder. “What,” she mumbles, pulling the blanket tighter around her. He can smell the alcohol on her breath from here.

“Scully, it's me.” He touches her cheek. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Mm, ‘m fine Mulder,” Scully mutters irritably. “Just tryin’ to sleep.”

“Why are you sleeping out here? Instead of in your bed?” He reaches for her cold fingers and pulls them into his.

“I wanted to be… didn't wanna leave her,” says Scully sleepily, her lids raising slightly. He gives her a look of confusion. The phone slips to the floor as she reaches for her necklace, to clasp it in her hands. “This would've been her room,” she clarifies.

Mulder sucks in a breath of surprise at that, feels the weight of her statement settle in. “Oh, Scully,” he whispers, pulling her up off of the ground and into his arms.

“I had it all planned out, was gonna get a bed and paint…” Scully shifts against him, balling a fist into the hem of his shirt. “I was gonna take care of her. I really loved her, Mulder. I wanted to be her mom.”

“I know.” He's stroking her hair a little. He'd mostly managed to block out what little things he'd remembered about Emily, but now they're back and crowding his brain, making him near physically ill. If he feels this terrible about a little girl he had a total of two interactions with, how must Scully be feeling? “I know,” he says again, and kisses her hair.

Scully sniffles into his shoulder. “And I barely even knew her. I never had the chance t-to love her. They took that away.”

“I know. I'm so sorry.”

Scully wipes her nose, her eyes. “I let her die,” she mumbles, her breath hot against the cotton of his shirt. “Both of them. Emily and Roberta… it never should've happened. I should've been able to save her… but I looked at her and I saw Emily. She asked me to let her go. She called me Mommy.” She sniffles again. “And I did it. I let her go. I let her go, Mulder. And now Roberta Dyer is dead because of me.”

Mulder rubs the space between her shoulder blades. “Maybe that was what was meant to happen,” he murmurs.

Scully laughs bitterly and loosens her hold on his shirt. “You don't believe that. Y-you said. You didn't… you didn't believe me. You never believe in anything religious… God… you n-never…”

He stiffens, his arms slack around her. She's right, he didn't believe. He doesn't believe, not in God. But he doesn't blame her, not for Roberta Dyer's death. But she needed him to believe. She needed him to believe…

“I'm sorry, Scully,” he says against her temple. “I'm so sorry.”

Scully pulls out of his embrace, mumbling something that sounds like, “Let go.” She leans forward on her hands and knees, lowering herself back to the floor. “Wanna sleep.”

“You should sleep in your bed,” Mulder says, touching her shoulder. “It's warmer there.”

Scully shakes her head firmly, huddling down in front of the chair and pulling the blanket tight around her. Mulder gives up, shifting to sit against the wall. Scully mutters something indecipherable into the blanket, pressing her face into it. “It's okay,” Mulder whispers. “Get some sleep.”

As soon as she's asleep, he pulls off her shoes, finds a pillow and another blanket on her bed and brings them to her. (He might as well make her as comfortable as possible.) He sits beside her again on the floor. Her right foot slides across the floor in her sleep, bumping against his arm. Her toes are freezing, so he reaches down to rub some warmth into them and vows to buy her some socks this Christmas.

Samantha used to sleep on the floor outside their mother's room when she was little and had nightmares. He wonders, briefly, if Emily would've had nightmares and if she would've slept outside the door to Scully's room in this same fashion. If Scully would've let her crawl in bed after nightmares, even though parenting books advise against letting your child sleep in your bed. He doesn't know the kind of parent Scully would've been. (Will be, someday.) Hovering, he assumes—she flat-out refuses to leave his side when he's injured. The doctors at Emily’s hospital described Scully as “one of those tiger-mothers”, said she chased a man down the hall with a gun. What if she had gotten a chance to be a mother, if the courts had approved her adoption petition. Would she have stayed in California with Emily? No, because she said that her spare room would've been Emily’s room. So, what then? Would she have brought Emily back to DC in tiny winter coats, held her hand in the elevator? Would she have painted her spare room a bright color? Would she read picture books to her daughter in bed, carry a gun so that no one could ever hurt them again? Would she have stayed on the X-Files? Would she have stayed with him?

Mulder rubs warmth back into her cold feet, closes his eyes to try and grab at the image. He'd do anything to give her this life, he thinks. Anything. Even if it had meant sacrificing their fledgling relationship. He would've lost her either way, it seems, so better to have her gain a daughter in the process. But then again, maybe she wouldn't have broken things off if Emily had lived. Maybe she wouldn't have. Are you the parents, the doctor had asked, and she'd looked to him as if for confirmation before looking away. Maybe they could've been. Maybe they could have.

Mulder sits on the floor with Scully as she sleeps until his ass hurts. Her toes curl into the palm of his hand. He rubs a thumb over the curve of her foot. He sits there with her until his phone rings. Scully turns on her side, muttering something and throwing her arm out. Worried he'll wake her up, he stands quickly and heads out into the living room, answering the phone with a sighed, “Mulder.”

“My colleague heard you speak in Boston, Mr. Mulder,” says an unfamiliar voice on the other side. “Your take on alien conspiracies and the men in Congress.”

Mulder huffs out a laugh. It won't be the first time that he's gotten calls from conspiracy nuts. Not the first time in the middle of the night, even. But he's really, really not in the mood right now. “Well, tell your colleague that three a.m. is a little late for fan mail,” he says irritably, rubbing at his forehead.

“Don't underestimate the gravity of this phone call, Mr. Mulder,” the voice says, and it sounds deadly serious.  Serious enough that he revises his plan to hang up. “It would seem that your belief system aligns with ours. A man like you could be very valuable to our movement.”

Mulder tenses from head to toe. Pacing across Scully's living room, he can still see the top of Scully's bright head. “And what kind of movement is that?”

“I'm afraid I can't say any more over the phone,” the man on the other end says smugly. “We'd like to arrange a meeting to discuss this in person.”

Mulder rocks back and forth on his heels, turning away so he can't see Scully. “Can you give me a hint, at least?”

“You're notorious for your curiosity, Agent Mulder. I'd think that'd be enough.” The man pauses before whispering, “The fountain at Meridian Hill Park. Six a.m. Don't be late.” The dial tone clicks over, ringing harshly in his ear.

Mulder lets the phone clatter down on the counter, considering. Typically strangers calling him to arrange a meeting could be considered dangerous, something he'd want to avoid. But still… what if they're allied against the Syndicate, the people doing experiments on little girls and putting honing chips into the necks of innocent civilians? He has to go. For his sake and Scully's and Emily’s and Samantha's and any chance that this purported movement could be fighting against these people. He rubs his eyes again and heads for his coat.

He starts to leave without saying anything, thinks better of it. He tears a scrap of paper loose from the pad Scully uses to make grocery lists and scribbles a note: Scully, Had to go. I'm sorry. Take these. Have a good weekend, get some rest, and call me if you need me. He sets two aspirin on top of the note before grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

---

Scully wakes up alone on the cold tile of her hallway, a blanket tucked around her shoulders. Her head is pounding. Groaning, she sits up, rubbing circles on her forehead.

She doesn't remember much from the night before, aside from a bottle of wine that tasted salty with her tears. She thinks Mulder may have been there. She finds the phone shoved under the legs of the chair shoved under Emily’s doorknob, and deduces that she called him. She got drunk enough to forget things and apparently fell asleep outside of her spare bedroom.

This can't keep happening. Scully grabs the chair and scoots it away from the door for the first time in months. It makes a screeching sound as she moves it across the floor. She can't keep hiding her feelings at the bottom of a bottle. She has to find a way to ask for forgiveness, to reconcile this all within herself.

There only seems to be one solution, she decides as she shoves the chair back underneath the table. (It seems ridiculous, suddenly, that she left it there for so long.) She needs to go to confession. She needs to absolve of her sins, to understand why God has let this happened and used her to do it. She needs to know that she did the right thing. She decides to go in the afternoon, when she knows Father McCue isn't there. This is too personal to talk to her mother's old friend about.

She finds the note that Mulder left and takes the aspirins on top of them. She drives to the church in the late afternoon, when she knows she won't run into her mother. She tells the priest her story, grateful for the grate between them so that she cannot see his face. The shame is thick in her throat.

At the end of her story, the priest asks if she believes in a life after this one. She finds herself unable to answer. She wants to believe, but sometimes… after everything she's seen… She needs to believe that there is a better place, for Roberta and Paula and Dara and their nameless sister. For Emily, for Melissa. But she doesn't know what to believe anymore.

“Has it occurred to you that maybe this, too, is part of what you were meant to understand?” the priest asks her.

“You mean accepting my loss?”

“Can you accept it?”

Scully swallows. She can't forgive the men who created Emily and ensured that she would die. And she's not sure if she can ever forgive herself. But can she forgive God? (Will she ever be forgiven?) Can she accept that her daughter was meant to die, meant to go on to a better place where she could be with the only family she'd ever known? “Maybe that's what faith is,” Scully says quietly.

In the end, she doesn't know whether or not she did the right thing. And she's not entirely sure where her faith lies. Despite having moved the chair in front of the spare room (having, in a way, let Emily go), she knows she has a ways to go in the healing process. She's still haunted by her lost daughter. She needs to deal with it.

In the end, she calls Karen Kosseff and makes an appointment for that Monday. She's helped Scully get past things before, and Scully hopes to accomplish the same thing again.

She calls Mulder once she gets home, hoping for a full scenario of what happened the night before. He doesn't answer.

---

By the next evening, he's had a gun shoved in his ribs, been invited to join a ruthless terrorist group (called the New Spartans, of all things), and told by The People Above Him that he has to. He staggers in his door sometime after five, exhausted and wishing he'd carried Scully to bed and fallen asleep beside her instead of picking up the phone and stumbling straight into a trap. Stupid, stupid. He left Scully drunk and asleep on her floor to run off and become a double agent in an assignment that will likely kill him. He trusted a lead with absolutely no basis and ran headfirst into a ruthless militia. He left her alone. When she needed him. He collapses on the worn leather of his couch and dials her number. (Speed Dial 1, just like always.)

She picks it up with her usual, brisk, “Scully.” His first thought is, She sounds better, but then he remembers that Scully has a talent for hiding her emotions. The cracks in her foundation are hairline fractures, and she remains the strongest person he knows.

“Hey, Scully, it's me,” he says.

“Mulder?” She sounds confused. “Were you… were you at my apartment last night?”

He chews at his lower lip. “Uh, yeah. Your mom called me, worried about you, and I was, uh, I was worried about you, too, so I came over to check on you… you were asleep on the floor…”

“Oh.” Now she sounds embarrassed. “Was I… I was drunk, wasn't I.”

“You'd… yes.” Mulder exhales slowly. “I was worried about you. I am worried about you. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, Mulder, I…” He imagines her rubbing her temples wearily. “I don't remember much from last night. It's been a hard weekend.”

He closes his eyes, her words sinking into his skull. “Scully, I'm… I'm sorry about what happened on Friday. I was an ass this entire case. I haven't… I haven't been there for you lately. I should be there no matter what.”

“You called to tell me you were sorry,” she says softly. “And you were there last night.”

But I ran off before you woke up. He licks his lips, starts, “Scully…”

“Mulder, can I call you later? It's been a long day, I've just come from Confession...” Her voice is trembling, uncertain.

“Sure,” he says, digging his fingernail into a crack in the couch. “As long as you're okay. You can talk to me if you need to. I'm here.”

“Thank you,” she says softly. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” he agrees. She hangs up on the other end. He curls further into the corner of the couch, stretching his legs out.

He wanted to tell her. Wants to tell her. Skinner told him he couldn't. “The more people that know, the more dangerous this situation is,” he said. “You're at a delicate position, Mulder. If it ever slips that you're a double agent, they won't hesitate to kill you on the spot. Even make an example of you as a warning to others.”

“Scully's my partner,” Mulder said fiercely. “She's the best ally I have.” The only one I trust, he resisted the urge to add. “If I don't tell her, she's going to get suspicious. And I need her on this.”

“If you put her on this,” said Skinner, “you run the risk of the New Spartans targeting her. If they find out she knows…” And that was enough to convince him.

He still wants to tell her—Scully can handle herself, she'd be furious if she knew that was the reason he was keeping this from her. But now is not the time. She's been through too much in the past week—the past few months—to be worried about him. He can't tell her.

He should tell her. This assignment is dangerous. More than dangerous. Skinner went over the history of the New Spartans with him, and they have left a lot of dead behind them. They are good at disguising the dead so that the bodies aren't found for months and they're hard to identify when they are. If he dies—and he will die if he is caught, they have killed several federal agents before—Scully won't know that he is dead for weeks or months or even years. She might think he is still alive until they find him. He can't do that to her. If he doesn't come home, she deserves to know why. But. But he can't risk her. He doesn't want her to die, and she deserves a chance to move past these things that have haunted her these past few months. This should be his burden alone.

He tells himself that Scully will be okay if he dies because she is Scully and she is strong. But he knows, somewhere, that his death will be enough to break her. For the same reason that she couldn't leave him after a computer tortured him. She cares about him, even if it's in a solely platonic way, and Scully has lost too many people in her life. Attended too many funerals. They both have.

God, he hopes he doesn't die. He doesn't want to die. And he doesn't want to leave her alone. Of all the times he's let her down, that might be the worst.

[blogofken]

A Tale of Two Kingdoms

Part Two...

5 minute read

by Ken Hiebert

When we last left Justin, he was at at costume party on his friend's private island. Upon his return to civilization, he was unmercifully shoved back into his role as Supreme Ruler of the Small Kingdom...

* In case you missed it, you can find out what brought him to this point by reading A Tale of Two Kingdoms - Part 1

***

King Justin was having a terrible day. The news of yet another shooting with a banned weapon was a painful reminder that his assault-style weapons ban hadn't in fact eradicated those weapons as he'd thought it would.

The kingdom was in the process of recovering from an imported plague that had taken the lives of thousands of the king's subjects. On top of that, unicorn fart production was down and the people hadn't seen a rainbow in months.

The children of the Small Kingdom, though not directly affected by the plague (it only killed the elderly) were nevertheless not allowed to congregate for fear of spreading it back to their homes. Even the schools were closed, and so to ease their burden of too much free time, King Justin thought it would be wise to start a program that would enable the children to volunteer their time in worthwhile projects around the Small Kingdom, and even give them opportunity to travel to other kingdoms. And yes, they'd be able to do this and get paid for it. Ok, so technically this isn't actual volunteering, but it sounds a lot better than, "getting paid minimum wage for a fancy vacation".

King Justin stroked the few hairs that had begun to sprout on his chin while he thought about the ramifications of his plan. He knew the perfect organization to pull this off. The WEasels were always there for him when he needed access to young minds to pour his ideals into. Not only that, but they had been especially good to his family by providing his mother and brother with hundreds of thousands of dollars for speaking engagements. Surely this is an organization that is deserving of his generosity, so he again reached into his treasury and found 900 million dollars. This will make the WEasels very happy, he thought as his fingers discovered one more hair on his long, pointy chin.

It took very little time to float this idea to the King's advisers, and of course they all agreed it was a fine idea, since many of them had also benefitted monetarily from the WEasels.

In short order the motion was passed and the WEasels were now in charge of administering a wonderful program for a bored generation eager to go out and help the world while collecting a nice little pay cheque.

Although this had seemed Iike a very well thought out idea at its inception, it didn't take long for cracks to appear once the local scribes and heralds found out how much King Justin's mother and brother had gotten paid by the WEasels. Then, when they found out that Money Billy had received almost $50,000 as well (but had kind of forgotten about it), it looked as though King Justin would have an uprising on his hands. In the end it seemed easier just to fire Money Billy in hopes the people's anger would be assuaged. King Justin had plenty of other servants who could do Money Billy's job, after all.

The other thing that was weighing heavily on the King's mind was how to extend the holidays of his counselors. Yes it was true they'd already been on holidays for five whole months, ever since the plague hit, but these had been five glorious months for King Justin, as he had no one to answer to and could pretty much do anything he wanted without fear of some ignorant hillbilly from the western part of the kingdom criticizing his motives.

During this time he had developed a new morning ritual that involved one on one, personalized chats with his subjects via a microphone and several cameras set up outside his comfy cottage. He used these times to assure his people that he was managing everything from the cottage and there was no need to be afraid, unless of course you were to leave your home - then you should be very afraid.

His favorite episode of these chats was the one right before Easter weekend. Putting on his most somber face, he looked straight into the camera and said, “This weekend is going to be very different. You’ll have to stay home. You’ll have to skip that big family dinner and the Easter egg hunt. During that weekend, we'll all have to find creative ways to celebrate Easter since none of us will be going to the cottage."

He thought it had played quite well and the next day left to go to his other cottage with his family for the weekend. It still irked him that even though there was no one watching over him, somehow the scribes and heralds had found out about that one too.

Oh well, he had planned on using the news of a few new outbreaks of the plague to enforce his stay-at-home order and thereby keep all those meddling servants at home for a few more months. This would have been perfect, but then someone came up with the hare-brained idea that simply covering your mouth and nose with a piece of cloth was sufficient to protect you from the plague. Of course all the people believed that one right away and began making plans to send their children back to school, each with their own fashionable handkerchief tied on with a ribbon. Now he had to think of something else to keep those guys at home.

Suddenly, King Justin had an idea. This was not something that happened all that often so he was quite elated. "Since I am the King", Justin reasoned to himself, "surely I can just take some time off without having to ask somebody about it." This made perfect sense to him, since he really had been under extra stress with all the unfavourable news reports and having to fire his good friend Money Billy.

The next day he sent a message to all his servants and counselors that they should continue to stay home because he was taking another month off and therefore everyone else was also entitled to more time off. He was sure all his servants would be very happy with his ample generosity.

Excited to be on holidays, King Justin began making plans for the next month and half. He was pretty sure he'd have plenty of time to come up with another plan when this period was over. Maybe this time he'd be able to get rid of those guys for good...

[theultimatetamer]

Interview with Ilaria Catalani

Monster Allergy Week, Day 7

Free-for-all

And since I had no clue what to do for this day I thought: “Why not an interview?”. So here we are!

For the last day of the Monster Allergy Fandom Week you are going to have two very special and exclusive interviews. The first one could not be with any other than the one and only Ilaria Catalani, to whom I will never be thankful enough for this!

Huge thanks to @shikadora-momo as well for helping me out. This would have never been possible without her.

If you want to read the original interview in Italian, click here.

If you want to read the interview in English, keep reading.

1. You have recently become one of the idols of this fanbase, but some people might still not know who you are exactly. So, who is Ilaria Catalani?

First of all, hello everybody! It’s a pleasure for me to answer these questions. Thank you for allowing me to be here!

I am very surprised to know I have become an “idol” for you guys, ha ha ha! It was unexpected, really!

I’d say it’s time for me to introduce myself properly, then!

I’m a girl born on the seaside 28 years ago, in a city nearby the capital of Italy. I have a crazy passion for cartoon openings, Japanese curry and for mystery and paranormal stories!

I have been drawing basically since always and I had always wished to work as a comic artist… that’s why my studies have always aimed at the artistic field! In fact, now I’m working mostly as a comic designer, but I happen to work as an illustrator or freelancer for private commissions as well!

2. In what other projects can we find your name, be it as an author or as a designer?

As I’ve said before I’m a comic artist / illustrator / freelancer. I have also worked as an inker for the Italian publishing house Edizioni Dentiblù, for their series Zannablù, and always with them I published my first original comic book: Hadez (written by me and Silvia Tidei).

At the moment I’m working on the new issue of Monster Allergy, «The valley of bombos», and also as a designer for the Regal Academy comics (Rainbow).

So for now I’d say these are the main projects in which you can find my name and last name! I hope the list will become longer with time! Ha ha!

3. When did you realize that you wanted to turn your passion into a job and work as an illustrator? How did you get where you are today?

As a kid I absolutely loved anime, I grew up with Kaibutsu-kun, Arale, Dash Kappei, Dragon Ball and Sailor Moon… not to mention all the Disney movies and series that marked my childhood. At first I didn’t understand why I felt so sad at the end of every episode, but with time I realized that melancholy came from the fact that I wanted to know more, see more and turn those stories inside out… So I decided that I, too, wanted to tell a story that would make others feel the same way I felt. At the beginning I thought my future would have been that of a “mere” designer… but then manga arrived in my room and everything started. While my classmates were focused on completely different things, I couldn’t get away from that world I created so I decided to turn this passion of mine into my job, my main path. I studied at the Institute of Art and then I attented comic school in Rome. This way I began my way, which is still evolving!

4. Do you have any advice for those who want to pursue the same career as you?

Everytime I’m asked this question I can only come up with the most trivial answer ever: have fun.

After all, I’m aware there are not many other advices to give, really… it’s a very personal path, a difficult journey that’s not for everybody but if you’re strong and tough enough you can make it. You need to have tons of passion and willpower… these are two essential traits, in my opinion.

5. How did you end up getting involved in this project? Did you know Monster Allergy from before?

Actually, I have a very funny anecdote regarding my first encounter with Monster Allergy.

When I was little I made the same mistake as many others of my generation that grew up surrounded by manga and I only allowed comics signed by Japanese artists on my bookshelf. One day, watching an advert about the first release of Monster Allergy I felt very excited. I noticed the comic had many traits similar to my beloved Japenese comic books but it was made in Italy so, all happy, I rushed to buy the comic, only to find out it was labeled under Disney, so I pinned it in my mind as something that could never be my thing … hahahah I’m a dork!

Truth be told, at the time I couldn’t admit I liked the volume, to this day I believe that, on a graphic level, it’s one of the best comics for young audience I have ever seen… Unfortunately, I never got any deeper into the series aside from the first volume and some random issues that helped me to know more about almost all the characters. But I believe that, at this point, I’m obliged to recover the whole series! Right?

About my involment; I was offered to do it and I couldn’t have been any happier since I have wanted to work with the authors of the series for a long time. That’s it! :D

6. How has it been working with Walter Baiamonte? Did you decide it or was it the publishing house?

This is the very first project, aside from little works, that I do with Walter… Even if I know him very well in many other aspects since we share our daily life. However I knew Walter since before being workmates and I have always thought he is a great comic artist / designer / colorist… I was often “jealous” of his natural talent for crazy and rad things! It makes me realize that I still have a lot to learn and reminds me of how lazy I am! Ahhh!

The decision to have him as the colorist for this issue of Monster Allergy was made by the authors of the series but I can only thank them for it, they made it all even more fun for me than it was already!

7. How do you feel about working on Monster Allergy in general?  What do you think was the biggest challenge or setback that you had to face while designing the new issue?

I feel… euphoric and scared in equal measure, actually!

Euphoric because, in fact, I’m a huge fan of stories for the young audience (Hadez belongs to that genre, even if it’s not an adventurous type of story like Monster Allergy)… Scared because this is a HUGE series with lots of fans and affectionate people and I have the hard task to make them all happy with my drawings and narration!

There haven’t been any huge obstacles really. At first it was difficult to get in gear with this comic because, as I said before, I had the sudden weight and responsibility to do a great job… However you have to know that I’m doing my best!

8. Which character have you enjoyed drawing the most and why? And the least?

There’s no character I liked the least to draw, they’re all very different so none of them was boring, on the contrary! Every character gave me a spark to create different mimics and give them an appropriate behavior according to their personalities!

Actually, the characters I loved drawing the most were two: Timothy and the new character, the kid… whom I can’t reveal a thing about, not even the name :P He he he, I’m evil!

Anyway Timothy is a Sphynx and I think Sphynx are beautiful cats. Moreover, he always looks grumpy and serious… It’s so much fun drawing his tiny spiky forms…! About the other character, well, professional quirk… I have a soft spot for very young characters, they’re always extremely fun to draw and animate in the panels!

9. Risky question: is it true that we are going to find some characters of Hadez hidden in the panels?

This is when I need to put on a mask and sunglasses to avoid being recognized and play dumb *cough* *cough*.

Anyway yes, I love easter eggs and I like to include characters of mine or from my friends (sometimes even sneaking my friends in directly) in the pages of projects I’m working on, if I have the chance to… Sometimes I do it simply because it’s fun… other times because I have no idea what the background characters look like, so I ease my job drawing something I already know!

10. If you were given the offer to work on any of the upcoming chapters would you take it?

If I received an offer like that I would absolutely accept. I felt very comfortable working on this story and I think that in many ways it made me grew even more as designer… So, even though I doubt it’ll happen, I’d say yes!

11. To finish with, do you have any message for the fans that are going to read this?

I have never been a faithful follower of your favorite series but, in my own way, I loved it while drawing it and this gave me a boost to be curious and learn more about it… So, I truly hope that the new chapter will be of your liking as much as it has been for me. It’s been wonderfully fun and I hope I have been able to do justice to your beloved characters!

Thank you very much for this interview! <3