#i tried to blend the movie and the book description a little but i think it's a little lacking still i need to make another version

[cockworkangels]

tried out painting my favourite little guy :)

[dodo-begone]

Ugly Fuckling

Pairing: Yandere!Xisuma x Reader

Request: mmm for requests: some soft yandere shit with any character, maybe??

Word count: 3.9K

Warning: yandere, cursing, depression (?), Anxiety (?), angst (to comfort), dissociation

Part 2 for this is Now Listen Here Sad Bitches - Stop Being Sad

If this EVER looks funky/glitched (which it def is now) I have this up properly on Ao3.

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The shopping district made you uneasy. Life just seemed to course through the area. Even without anyone actually being there to give it the energy. It was cramped though; everything was practically on top of each other. Yet it gave such a homey feeling. Like everybody who made the buildings actually liked each other; they all were a representation of how everyone was different but still similar to a family. Standing in front of all of the shops made you feel intimidated. Small, insignificant, inadequate.

You start your journey through the district, looking and giving every build the attention it deserved. It was all in an attempt to imbed everything into your memory. After all, you wouldn’t be around for much longer. Someone like you, who was so alien to the server, shouldn’t just try and worm their way into such an amazing community like this. Especially when they have nothing to offer for said community.

You hadn’t realized where you were walking until you stood in front of Grian’s barge. It was so gorgeous and well made. Grian told you how it began as a small little boat build and progressively grew to the giant floating market it is today. The story was awe inspiring; like an ugly duckling, it grew into something majestic after starting at such humble beginnings. Yet it did little to lift your spirits now. Yeah the barge started as a simple build, but it was still beautiful in its tiny state. And Grian had the talent and skill to make ginormous and intricate builds. You had neither of those abilities.

You hadn’t realized where you were walking until you stood in front of Grian’s barge. It was so gorgeous and well made. Grian told you how it began as a small little boat build and progressively grew to the giant floating market it is today. The story was awe inspiring; like an ugly duckling, it grew into something majestic after starting at such humble beginnings. Yet it did little to lift your spirits now. Yeah the barge started as a simple build, but it was still beautiful in its tiny state. And Grian had the talent and skill to make ginormous and intricate builds. You had neither of those abilities.

You hadn’t realized where you were walking until you stood in front of Grian’s barge. It was so gorgeous and well made. Grian told you how it began as a small little boat build and progressively grew to the giant floating market it is today. The story was awe inspiring; like an ugly duckling, it grew into something majestic after starting at such humble beginnings. Yet it did little to lift your spirits now. Yeah the barge started as a simple build, but it was still beautiful in its tiny state. And Grian had the talent and skill to make ginormous and intricate builds. You had neither of those abilities.

Slowly you made your way closer to the barge. At the entrance there were numerous posters all bunched together on a post. All for the mayoral campaign. They were so cute, each having a unique look. Representing their mayors very well. But Scar’s. Oh Scar’s was just elite. It was a plain wooden sign; a small but even more unique technique when compared to the others. Nothing beat some good ole fashioned petitioning. You let out a small giggle at the sight of Scar’s sign next to the others. It seemed very out of place. Seemed like a solid representation of you with the hermits. And at the same time it reminded you so much of the Dream smp.

The Dream smp… your old home. Calling the dream smp home feels wrong; you barely felt safe there, but you knew that you were wanted there. Even if just a few actually cared about you, loved you. You fit in so much better there. Your horrendous builds could easily blend in with the others or better yet, stand out amongst the surrounding disasters to look semi-decent. Yes there were actual beautiful builds, just like any other server, but they were few and far between. Those builds were under constant threat of being griefed or destroyed, just like all of the others. Yet everybody seemed mostly okay with it. They would be upset when it would be destroyed, like any normal person would. But they only had two options when presented with the rubble; pick up the fragments and rebuild from the ground up or forever abandon what was once a masterpiece.

With the hermits, there was order there. The chaos was controlled, which was an odd concept to you. Chaos on the Dream smp ran rampant, destroying anything in its path. And there even seemed to be a “type” of person that was deemed a “hermit”. Thought it was hard to pick out something that everybody had in common. But you knew one thing; you didn’t fit the description of a hermit.

On the Dream smp, everything was always on the brink of destruction and very tense. Things could change on the flip of a dime. Nothing was guaranteed. And yet you still wanted to go back there. To feel wanted, important, enough, to be validated. To be so much more than you were with the hermits. With the hermits, you were only an imposter; everything they said to or about you was a lie. Had to be a lie. Why else would you be like this super kinda and incredible person? The person they were describing wasn't even you. It was a whole different person, how could they not see that?!

Leaning against the outerwall of the barge, you slowly slide to the ground. You start a panoramic view from your new position. It only made you feel worse; you felt detached from your body. Like you were watching a movie of you and your life from an outsider’s view. But you had control of your body and could still kinda see through your eyes, which made it feel even weirder. So more like you were walking through a movie that you weren’t made for; a real person wandering the domain of a cartoon show.

A shaky breath breaks it way through your lips. Trails of tears soon start to trickle down your face, slightly obscuring the view you had. Suddenly the world becomes too big yet too small. Much duller, less important. Everything became too much yet not enough all at the same time. Soon the feeling overwhelmed you so much that you broke down into a sobbing mess. The wanted to hide your face in your hands and knees hung over you like a tsunami wave, but you knew you shouldn’t. These were your last moments and views of the hermitcraft server. Even if you couldn’t see clearly anymore. Any view was better than no view. You tried to muffle your cries; do anything to stay silent and unseen. Nobody really wanted to deal with a crying person. They just felt obligated to.

God you were such a burden on all of the hermits. You could barely support yourself with your shitty little farm. Barely any food was produced. And the hermits kept giving you stuff: ores, food, weapons, armour, just about anything you could think of. Golden carrots, golden apples, elytras, diamonds and netherite were the gifts that made you feel the worst. These were such wonderful, valuable, and useful items. Nobody would give them out for free, even to a friend. Especially as often as they did.

So you’d set out on a journey to figure out who’d gifted you stuff and return it immediately. First you just left them in a chest with a book or sign explaining that you didn’t want to accept their gift. It felt wrong that they were giving them such nice stuff. They’d always bring it back to you though. It burned your heart. Both from how sweet the gesture was and the physical pain you felt taking it from them. After a few cycles of this, people started to stop telling you who gave you that new item of yours. Even when you begged them for answers.

You had to turn to more drastic measures. Every gift you got was soon carefully investigated for any sign of who could’ve given it to you. There wasn't a way to easily get an answer from the other hermits. They had gotten suspicious of your past tactics, so you had to change your approach.

So you went with the closest guess. Even if they weren’t the one to give it to you, you’d give it to them. When the “gifter” left their base, you’d swiftly sneak in and start to put the items back in their storage. Many of them had chest monsters, so it was easier to put the items in their chests. After all, they wouldn’t really notice more items in the giant mess of items they already had. Then there were the ones with organized sorting systems. You’d search for their proper homes and place them in there. Since these people usually had big storage facilities, it wouldn't be hard to hide a few other items in there. What were the odds that they’d notice that they had a little more of an item than they last remember?

Aw who were you kidding, they’d obviously notice a whole inventory’s worth of golden carrots in their chests. But you deluded yourself into believing that your attempts worked. Believing a beautiful life was much easier and felt better than facing the less-than enjoyable truth.

When you finally calmed down enough, you went over your mental plan again. It had to be absolutely perfect. With no flaws or kinks. This couldn’t fail. Every attempt before had ended in fucking failure. You’d look so bad to the hermits if you failed in leaving again. Why did you still care about what they thought of you? That’s such a silly thing to still care about.

Each plan before had one step that’d always thwarted your leave; you always said goodbye to somebody. At first it started with a big group of hermits, but with each attempt the group got smaller and smaller.

When you’d go to say your goodbyes, the hermit you were talking to would get upset. They’d begged you to stay. Or they’d ask you to help them on this one last project. And then another hermit would ask, and then another. Until you were helping a hermit as soon as you finished a project. You were almost never alone for a while. Slowly the thought of leaving would be pushed further and further back into your mind. Until it was practically gone; only echoes of it would remain to haunt you at night. This was a continuous cycle, and you wanted it to end.

This time you weren’t going to get stopped. Having fewer people in the plan makes it easier to leave. That meant nobody was going to get an in-person goodbye. Everybody had an individual letter addressed to them from you and one for the entire server. It was better this way. They wouldn’t have the chance to stop you.

You don’t know how much time passed, nor did you really care. God you wanted to stay here so bad, yet you couldn’t. This wasn’t where you belonged. You weren’t meant to be here.

With a heavy sign, you hauled yourself off the ground and made your way to the edge of the server. Every moment was precious now, so you decided to dawdle as much as you could. Nobody was going to stop you, so you had time. After all, nobody was going to be finding the letters anytime soon.

To savor every last second on the server, you traversed by boat and foot. Yes you’d miss the elytras, but you wanted to travel the old fashioned way. The way you were used to doing it. Elytras weren’t on the Dream smp, so you needed to start getting used to not having them again.

It felt like seconds before you were at the edge. A few blinks and bam! You were at your final destination on the Hermitcraft server. It was now or never. All you had to do was take a few steps over and you would be back on the Dream smp. Yet your feet refused to move. Why weren’t they moving? This was for the greater good. Yes you wouldn’t be happy there immediately, but you’d grow used to it again.

You started to take deep breaths, trying to hype yourself up to take the final steps. It was like three steps, come on. You can do it. The trip here was longer and harder than this. Don’t let something this small ruins all the work you’ve done. God it was like you were like a walking failure. You couldn’t even finish something you started, something you wanted done. A small part of you whispered, begged you to say with the hermits. But it was soon covered by a much louder part of the mind, telling you that this was the best thing you could do for everyone. Come on, they wouldn’t miss you at all. With one final breath, you took a step forward.

“What’re you doing?” a voice seemed to yell. God it was so quiet. Why was it so quiet? Literally any noise was too loud now.

You stopped. Oh no, did you take too long getting here? Man you really should’ve used that elytra instead. Would’ve made this trip so much easier and faster.

Slowly you turn around to see who interrupted you. And low and behold, it’s Xisuma. He was a little ways away from you, which you were thankful for. It was surprising to see him so far away from the server though. Did he find the notes. Shit, fuck, no no no-. You really hope he hadn’t found them.

“I’m just looking around” a nervous shell of your voice answers. It sounded so empty, like the wind could easily blow it away with just a single gentle gust. You desperately look over where Xisuma’s face would be in hopes of finding out what he was feeling or thinking. That mask of his blocked it, so it was futile. But you had to know what he thought about you now. Was he disappointed? Did he hate you? Especially for how you tried to leave?

“This far out,” he spreads his arms out, gesturing to the world around y’all. It was practically deserted. There was only an island, and you two were standing on it. Ocean covered the world to the horizon. Logically you knew you had no reason to be out here other than to leave. You knew Xisuma knew as well. He had to. He was the admin, after all.

“Uh,” you frantically look around, hoping to find anything to help you get out of this tense situation. You hated this. Hated confrontation. This was a reason you left the Dream smp. “Yeah I wanted a good sight for the uh- for the sunset. Yes, the sunset! It’s so pretty when you’re so far from the mainland. Away from all the buildings that could obstruct the view.”

It took a second for your words to finally hit you, and when they did it felt like a slap to the face. “I’m not saying the builds are bad,” you desperately backpedal, trying to change the possible interpretation of your words. “I mean they’re very big. Big and pretty! Yes, very pretty! But they block the skyline so easily and the sunset and sunrise are just hidden by them. And sometimes the light pollution really gets in the way of stargazing- I’m rambling aren’t I? I’m sorry.”

You stared at Xisuma, wishing for him to give you any sign as to what he was thinking. But the black visor thwarted you attempts again; his face was unviewable with his helmet on.

Wait how could you have been so self absorbed to not notice what Xisuma is wearing. He adorned a little bee/wasp (you had a hard time telling the difference at the moment) themed outfit. It was like a whole bodysuit. And he had a little bee/wasp helmet too! Oh my gosh it was the little bee outfit he owned! The one you really liked! He was actually wearing it? The outfit you said looked really good on him? No, wait. He might just like it as well. That’s probably why he’s wearing it. Stupid, remember you’re not special. Especially to anyone. Why can’t you get that through your thick brain?

Xisuma must have seen the emotional trip you just went on. It must’ve been obvious, right? Written all over your face?

“You’re not wrong,” Xisuma starts. “The builds can be rather disruptive of a good view of the sunset or sunrise. But if you wanted a good viewing spot, you could’ve just asked me. I wouldn’t have minded showing you one.”

“That would’ve been such a stupid thing to ask,” you sniffle, barely having the strength to look him in the eyes. Well, where his eyes should be. “Going up to an admin and saying ‘I can’t see the sunrise or sunset well. Can you show me a good viewing spot’ isn’t exactly something you ask an admin. Usually it’s something along the lines of ‘hey this player took my stuff’ or ‘I’m stuck in a hole and need help.’”

Silence smothers the two of you. Your words were heavy. Made your mouth dry too. Wow is it hot out or just you? It’s really fucking hot out here.

“Again,” Xisuma breaks the silence,” I wouldn’t have minded at all. I’m here for you. For the hermits. And I’m here to help. Why do you think my help wouldn’t extend to you?”

You ponder over his question. Now that he states it like that, how can you just make up a stupid excuse? The care he showed in his explanation made you feel warm and fuzzy. Even if it wasn’t a lot. It made you feel special. Just for that moment. He doesn’t deserve a sucky lie. He deserved the truth. You owed it to him. Then you’ll stop being a bother to him and leave. Right… leave.

“Because I’m not a hermit, Xisuma,” you murmur, hugging yourself for comfort. “I don’t think I ever was. Or ever will be, for that matter.”

“And why not,” Xisuma prods, taking a step towards you. “You are a hermit. You’re on the hermit server and you have been for quite a while now. Everyone loves you. They love you so much. I love you so much.”

That question hurts you. It hurts you so much and yet you have no reason for it to hurt you this much. The statement was false and you knew it. So it shouldn’t hold this much power over you. He’s wrong and you know it. But how do you break it to him?

Yeah, break the news to him. The only thing breaking is you. Xisuma’s mask, which you had once adored, scared you. Intimidated you and made you feel inadequate. The more you looked, the worse you felt.

And so you give in. “Because I’m not one of you. I’d never be one of you. No matter what I did, it’d never amount to what everyone else can do! Grian can make magnificent builds, Scar can landscape like a god, and Mumbo can make literally anything and everything out of redstone. Everybody has something that they’re good at, something they specialize in. And me,” your voice cracks. You drop to the ground on your knees, curling into yourself. “I can’t do anything. I can’t build, can’t farm and I can’t even do simple redstone. I’m a literal dunce. I’ll never be able to do anything right. I’ll never be enough, especially on a server like this with so many incredible people like you. And everyone is so nice. I don’t deserve this kindness. I’m a horrible person. And-and I just don’t belong here. It’d be better if a burden like me is gone, out of your hair. It’d be better if I went back to the Dream smp. Where I can’t be a burden to anybody here.” You finally break down. Sobs shook your body and any words that came out after that were unintelligible.

Suddenly there’s a presence near you, giving you a hug. You flinch, but know it’s Xisuma. Who else could it be? He was the only one here with you. He lets go of you slowly, but you quickly latch onto him and hide in the crook of his neck. You really wanted some comfort. You wanted Xisuma’s hugs. You didn’t want to be left alone.

He goes back to gently holding you, quietly telling you that everything was going to be okay. And other things. Everything just went in one ear and out the other. But he’s giving you soft and steady backrubs. You snuggle closer to him. God this was like a whole comfort package! It just made you want to cry harder. And he just stays there! Letting you cry on him. He’s so nice to little ole you.

Soon you tuckered yourself out from crying. You’re so tired, but you’re still crying. Sadness just courses through you. But you’re so tired. Slowly your sobs turn to sniffle and you try to bring him even closer to you.

“Feel any better,” he tries his best to look at you after your sniffles are all that’re coming out of you. It’s really hard to look at someone so close to you.

You nod against him, too tired to answer verbally. Plus your voice probably sounds terrible and wouldn’t be able to handle answering anyways.

He picks you up, holding you close to him and walks away from the border. You’re so thankful that Xisuma is carrying you. It makes you feel so loved. And your body was so weak after your breakdown.

Soon you two are on a boat, heading back to the rest of the hermits. He’s rowing y’all home. You cuddle into him, wanting as much physical contact as you can get. You’re so tired, but you don’t want to sleep just yet. But you still doze off anyways. As you do though, Xisuma starts to talk to you.

“Thank you for staying with us. With me. I really appreciate that. I love you, remember that. I’ll tell you that a million times if I have to. I’d tell you daily, hourly. Whatever you want. Just don’t leave, please. I love you so much. It’d hurt if you left. If I lost you. But it also hurts to see you in so much pain. Oh I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you sooner. I should've seen the signs. But I’m here. I’ll help you. I love you so much. I’ll stay with you as long as you’re with me. I’d follow you to the end and back.”

You can’t exactly hear what he’s saying, but it must be really nice. The tone of it is so comforting. Wait hold up. Weren’t you doing something. Struggling to stay awake, you mind scrambles for an answer. The border. Yes, the border! You were there. But for what? You couldn’t remember anymore. But was it important if you forgot? Oh who cares, you got Xisuma with you! You were home! That’s all that mattered.

As you finally start to drift off, you mutter an ‘i love you’ to him, finally falling into a well deserved slumber.

[richiefuckfacetozier]

Why Can't This Be Love

Chapter 1: Here It Comes

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Click to read on Archive 

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

Title - Why Can't This Be Love by Van Halen

Dedicated to @slashpalooza and @sam-i-am2468

___

Eddie’s Tuesday started out as it normally did. Half a grapefruit for breakfast, thoroughly shower, text his best friend, Richie, a stupid meme, call Mike to confirm lunch for tomorrow, work from 8am to 6pm, and come home to pour himself a glass of wine. 

Right now he was pouring 4 glasses because around 3:00pm, Beverly called asking if her and Ben could come by to tell him something exciting and that Richie had to be there too. He was not sure what they could possibly want to talk about with the two of them. Eddie tried to push down the anxiety that they might be angry about something. He was pretty sure he didn’t do anything horrible recently, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Richie! Can you help me?” Eddie shouted from the kitchen of his apartment. “I don’t have enough hands to carry everything!”

“Coming, my love!” Richie joked annoyingly. Although Eddie didn’t find it entirely annoying, it’s just Richie being ridiculous. 

His tall friend padded into the kitchen wearing his worn out leather jacket that he thought made him look cool, a print shirt with a meme on it that Eddie didn’t get, and jeans, “I know what they are going to tell us.” Richie stated confidently with a little bounce in his step. 

“Did they tell you already? That’s not fair!” Eddie said in frustration. “They couldn’t wait two more damn minutes?”

“No, I have a guess, Eds.” 

“Don’t call me Eds.”

“I think Ben finally got the courage to propose to Beverly.” Richie went on with a smile. “Or she grabbed him by the balls and told him to do it.”

Eddie snorted at the imagery and wouldn’t put it past Bev to be that aggressive but probably wouldn’t to the love of her life. “That’s wonderful if it’s the news.” 

“I bet you 50 bucks it is,” Richie challenged, “Ben was looking mighty anxious at Bill’s wedding a year ago.” 

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, “I barely remember Bill’s wedding. I was so blackedout.” 

Richie rolled his eyes dramatically, “You were stupidly mourning the loss of Myra the hydra.” Eddie cringed at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. 

“Be nice, Rich.” Eddie frowned. He pulled out a packet of thin mint girl scout cookies for all of them to snack on.  

Richie rolled his eyes as he sipped quickly from the glass of wine, clearly not finished speaking, “I don’t know why either. She was a carbon copy of your mother. Her leaving was the best thing to ever happen to you.” 

“Yes, being extremely single has done wonders for my self-esteem.” Eddie mumbled.

Richie leaned over and flicked Eddie’s nose, “You’re a catch, dummy.” 

He yelped, rubbing his nose and getting goosebumps from their intensely close position. Eddie grabbed the other two glasses, thin mints and turned on his heel to walk out of the kitchen. “Fine, 50 bucks it isn’t an engagement.” 

“Sweet! Also, those pants look good on you.” Richie pointed out following from behind him. 

Eddie’s cheeks heated up a little, he purposely wore these dark navy blue jeans because Richie always compliments them. He wondered if Richie remembered that he did this every time. Eddie doubted it. When it was just the two of them, Richie constantly tried to make Eddie feel special and wanted. Eddie suspected Richie did it because he felt sorry for him, but he couldn’t be sure. Despite knowing his best friend pretty well, he was also a huge enigma. Constantly says whatever is on his mind, does the most spontaneous - borderline suicidal - things, and keeps a smile on his face no matter what he may be feeling. 

They plop down on the couch in Eddie’s living room. His place was what Richie called a ‘clean mess’, probably the best description of Eddie ever said. He had the habit of hoarding things he didn’t really need. Piles of books on every table that he had already read, knick-knacks from trips, more candles than any one person needed on all open surfaces. He had really nice furniture that matched well in a blend of warm colors. Beverly and Ben sat in two mahogany chairs across from them, holding hands. 

Eddie placed the wine glasses on monster movie poster coasters that Richie gifted him years ago when they were teens. They grew up together and remained close throughout the years, regardless of college or moving around. In fact, Eddie had six very close friends from childhood. The group called themselves the Losers Club, a title courtesy of Richie. 

“Thanks, Eddie!” Beverly said nicely. Ben thanked him too. Richie sat beside Eddie, the side of their thighs touching as he scooted closer to hand him wine. Eddie always felt so comfortable around all his friends, they were the only ones he let be touchy with him. He used to hate germs and be easily disgusted by everything, but when the people he was closest with shared food, drinks, and beds with him, that feeling went away gradually. 

“Alright, lads,” Richie started up with a newsies kid accent. “What’s the scoop? Striking Pulitzer again?” 

“Well,” Ben’s round cheeks turned pink as he said, “We’ve got pretty big news.” Eddie observed Ben take both Beverly’s hands into his own big ones. 

Beverly was practically jumping in her seat, her flamming red short curls bouncing against the sides of her face. She shared a big smile with Ben as she blurted out, “WE ARE GETTING MARRIED!”

“FUCK YES!” Richie shouted. He flew off the couch tackling Beverly in a huge hug. 

“Please, don’t hurt my girlfrie-I mean fiancé.” Ben said softly, clearly surprised how much he enjoyed calling her that. 

Eddie got up to hug Ben tightly, saying congratulations. Beverly kissed both men before they sat back down. Eddie raised his glass. “Cheers, to two people who’s friendship, romance, and love are unparalleled.” 

They clinked glasses and drank. Richie bumped Eddie lightly, “Cheers to owing me $50.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie nodded toward the counter. “You can grab it from my wallet before you go home.” 

“You can just buy me dinner this weekend.” Richie waved his hand.

“So Rich, you know what me getting married also means?” Beverly’s eyes shined brightly at him. He looked between her and Ben, thinking. Then dawning flashed on his face. He put his glass down and stood on the couch. 

“Richie, no!” Eddie pleaded desperately. “You are going to fall! Idiot!” 

He jumped up and down like a child discovering Christmas came early. “I AM GOING TO BE DUDE OF HONOR!” 

They all laughed at his excitement. One of the things the losers club decided in their 20’s, after a particularly ugly fight about who would be who’s best man or ‘dude of honor’ in this case, was that each of them would take turns. 

So far, Bill and Stanley had gotten married. To two incredible women, Audra and Patty. Eddie was Bill’s and Bill was Stan’s best man. The rest of the sequence goes: Mike is Richie’s, Richie is Bev’s, Bev is Eddie’s, Stan is Ben’s, and Ben is Mike’s. Mike is fairly confident he won’t get married and neither will Richie, which he says is for the best as he is far too stressed as a person to get married or be a best man. 

Eddie recalled that a huge fight he had with Myra was over Beverly being his Best Woman. She shouted at him for hours that there was no reason a woman should be when he had all these guy friends. Explaining the losers club deal to her did nothing but place fuel on the fire. ‘Sometimes I think you love them more than me!’ Looking back, he most certainly did. Eddie was fairly certain he would always love the losers most in this world. Which furthered the cycle of being horribly single. Sometimes he thought he was in a polyamorous asexual relationship with 6 other people. They were too close.

Richie finished up his jumping and landed on the couch half on Eddie. “OW!” Eddie yelled. “That fucking hurt. You aren’t light enough to plop all your weight on me.” 

Richie slung an arm over Eddie’s shoulders and kissed the side of his face. “Sorry, Eds.”

Eddie wiped his face that got kissed on Richie’s shoulder, pretending to get the germs off. “Have you told everyone else?” 

“We have…” Ben begun slowly. Eddie didn’t like the tone he was using. “Stanley’s already started his best man duties.”

“Why wouldn’t you just tell us you’re getting married altogether like Bill and Stan did?” Richie said, seeming to also realize this was odd. 

“Because we have to ask a favor of you.” Ben brought his hand up to start biting his nails the way he did when he was about to deliver bad news. 

“Favor is too nice, babe. This is not a favor or a request. It is a requirement if you both want to be at this wedding.” Beverly let go of Ben’s hand to place it on her knee. She rubbed her thighs once, gearing up to tell them. Eddie had a couple guesses about what she may want to say but nothing prepared him for what it actually was, “You have to bring a date.” 

Eddie leaned back in confusion, realizing Richie’s arm was still around him so it brought them both laying back against the couch. Richie removed his arm and started fidgeting with his fingers. Eddie worried his bottom lip before saying quietly, “Why?” 

Beverly looked to Eddie with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Eddie, but we don’t want a repeat of Stan and Bill’s weddings.”

Eddie’s face immediately turned red with embarrassment. Three years ago, Stanley got married and that was around when he left his mother’s place for the third time. A year later, Bill got married and he had his break up with Myra. On both occasions, Eddie took a bad combination of too many pills and drinking more than he ever had in his life. Resulting in major blackouts and behavior he cannot remember but knows second hand from everyone what happened.

“Why do we both have to have dates?” Richie said, voice a little strained and weird.

Beverly rounded on him with no sympathy. “Because, Richard, when YOU go to weddings you fuck everyone and break shit. A date will keep you focused on that person and not be a chaotic monster with a death wish.”

Richie laughed, “If I want to be fucked by all your bridesmaids at the same time then I should be allowed to do that!”

Beverly’s voice rose higher, “That’s literally not possible, asshole! And the only bridesmaid is Kay McCall.” 

“Damn. Kay’s beautiful but I don’t screw married women.” Richie’s face scrunched up. “Does that make her a bride’s matron?”

“High morals there Richie,” Ben said trying to lighten the mood.

“You know it Ben Handsome.” He winked. 

Eddie sat there trying to word what he wanted to say carefully. As Richie continued to dig himself a deeper hole, “We are getting off-topic. I’m saying if I want to have sex with someone and have a little fun or if Eddie wants to get so drunk he mistakes your grandma for a urinal, then we should have that right.” 

This brings Eddie back, “Richie!” 

“What? Nana Denbrough thought she was at a waterpark. You’re fine.” 

He put his hands on his face and folded forward. Richie scratched his back soothingly but didn’t stop trying to defend himself. Beverly eventually got so fed up that she pulled out her phone and played a video from YouTube. 

“Exhibit A, Bill and Audra’s wedding.” She said viciously. 

Eddie groaned as he raised his head to watch the screen. Bill’s younger brother Georgie had filmed people talking about Bill and Audra. He put the most unfortunate video, starring Eddie and Richie, on the internet for the world to see. 

Video Eddie looked miserable and spaced out. Georgie had to say his name three times before Eddie looked up and hiccuped. “Oh hey, Georgie!” Video Eddie said enthusiastically. “Having fun kiddo?” 

“I’m 21, Eddie. Not really a kid anymore.” Georgie’s voice said laughing. 

“Stay a kid forever,” Eddie begged him.

“Ok, Eddie. What do you want to say to Bill and Audra?” 

“Bill...I want you to know that you are the bravest man alive and I would die for you. Audra, you better be good to him.” Video Eddie points at the camera and almost falls forward. Suddenly, video Richie appears, catching him. He giggles bopping video Richie on the nose and keeping his face precariously close to video Richie’s face. 

Video Eddie frowns suddenly and looks back at the camera, “But don’t fall too too in love. You might get your heart broken like me. Love is dumb. Women are dumb. They don’t really care about you.” 

Video Richie had his hair slicked back and was laughing at video Eddie’s truths, “Eds! This day isn’t about you. It’s about Bill and Audra. We should be telling stories about them!”

“Oh god,” Eddie said as his stomach turned reliving the next part again. 

“So Audra, let me tell you about Bill’s first time. He had a girlfriend in high school, blonde and pretty, much like yourself and they were dating for about…” 

Video Eddie hiccups, “4 months.” Then smashes his face into video Richie’s neck. “You smell like whiskey.” He winces.

Video Richie laughed, cheeks reddening from drunkenness, “Thank you, Eds. When they decided to fuck for the first time, he got everything all set and she came over that evening. As he was eating her out.” 

“Richie, kids could see this.” Video Georgie warned through obvious laughter.

“As Bill was going downtown on her hoo-hoo she got a little too excited and shat the bed.” All three men were shrieking with laughter. Video Eddie wrapped his arms around video Richie, shaking uncontrollably with glee. Despite the horribleness of the situation, Eddie smiled a little. “Now it’s unclear where all the crap ended up but we can guess that…”

Beverly stopped the video glaring at Richie intently. Eddie looked at him and he only smiled. “We won’t even get into the nuclear mess that was Stanley and Patti Uris’s wedding right now. But we want you both to have a date so there is no chance of you completely embarrassing me, Ben, and yourselves.” 

Eddie scoffed, “Richie embarrasses himself on every date he goes on. What makes you think one brought to the wedding will be any better?” 

“Oh yeah?” Richie gazed at him steadily. Eddie braced himself for the incoming insult. As much as he could dish it, he rarely could take it. Especially against Richie’s quick tongue, “And when was the last time you even fucking went on a date to embarrass yourself?” 

“I can get dates!” 

“A night alone with your right hand isn’t a date.”

“Shut the fuck up, Trashmouth!” 

Suddenly, two armchair pillows smacked the side of Eddie and Richie’s heads. They both rounded on Beverly and Ben but the stare of death Beverly was giving stopped their prepared protests. 

“If you assholes want to come to my wedding,”

“Our wedding…” Ben whispered.

She turned her ever reddening face, almost the color of her hair, at her financé, “Not if you correct me, Benjamin! Don’t make me marry myself!” She focused back on Eddie and Richie, pointing a bitten nail at them menacingly. “...you will have dates and BEHAVE at the reception or so help me, I’ll castrate you!” 

There was a pregnant pause broken by the one who can never stay quiet long. “What about the ceremony?” Richie responded, “Can I at least ruin that?”

She stared at him, everyone ready for more yelling but instead she broke into a gorgeous smile and laughed. It lightened the moment but Eddie didn’t find he felt any less anxious. He fully contemplated this enormous request from his friends. Finding a good wedding date took time, he only ever had committed relationships. Well, the one with Myra. As much as Richie’s words hurt, he was right. Eddie didn’t go on dates. People didn’t tend to find him datable. “Too short, too high maintenance, too weird” were just a few of the flaws that consumed him. He had no clue how he was expected to get someone to go to this wedding with him. 

The four of them started discussing wedding details, Beverly and Richie talking a mile a minute about everything that had to get done. He was especially excited to plan a bachelorette party. With how much money Ben and Bev make, it sounded like they would get their dream wedding easily. 

Eddie was thrilled for them but that pang of being single and now having to find a date was eating him alive for the two more hours they stayed. When they finally called it a night, Beverly and Ben hugged them promising to talk tomorrow. 

Richie did not follow them out which meant he wanted to drink and talk more, probably spend the night there. Eddie had a guest room that was essentially Richie’s room since he spent the most time there. 

“You want ice cream?” Richie shouted from the kitchen where he was most likely opening another bottle of wine. 

“With chocolate syrup!” Eddie yelled back. 

“Oh, chocolate syrup night means major troubles.” Richie laughed. 

“What are we gonna do Rich?” Eddie whined miserably. “Or rather, what the fuck am I going to do?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“About the fucking dates!” Eddie laid sideways on the couch, grabbing the cushion pillow and placing it over his face to scream into. 

“Don’t be a drama queen.” Richie said. The couch shifted as he sat down by Eddie’s legs. 

“That’s easy for you to say.” Eddie mumbled into the pillow. 

Two hands extracted the pillow from his face. Eddie kept his eyes scrunched closed. “I can’t speak pillow.” 

Eddie huffed out, “It’s easy for you to not be worried. You are a serial dater.” 

“Open your eyes, Eds.” Richie chuckled. Eddie opened them to pout childishly at him.

He had his smirky smile on, which could only mean he had a terrible idea. “I have a great idea to get us out of getting actual dates.”

Eddie stared at him from his laid down position, probably giving Richie an unattractive double chin, “There is no loophole in this agreement, Rich. Beverly was really fucking clear. We have to have dates.” 

“And we will.” Richie poured wine into both their glasses. He handed it to Eddie, forcing him to sit up in order to drink it. While Eddie drank normally, Richie downed his quickly then licked his lips. 

“Who am I gonna have to take to Ben and Beverly’s wedding?”

Richie watched him carefully, opened his mouth and said, “You’ll take me. I will be your wedding date. And by default, you will be mine” Eddie’s mouth dropped and Richie clinked his empty glass with Eddie’s full one.

______________________

In honor of IT: Chapter 2 coming out soon, I have begun writing this fake dating idea! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, comment here or on archive and let me know your thoughts and feels! The title is thanks to Slashpalooza on tumblr who asked me a million years ago to write something with this title!

Tag List (Starting a new tag list since I don’t know who is still around in the fandom. Let me know if you want to be tagged):

@sarah011 @pan-ini @frankeeenstein @sam-i-am2468 @eds-kas @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @roobarrtrashmouth @hypnoidvoid @imeddie @slashpalooza @reddieforlove 

[daleisgreat]

Old Joy

2006’s Old Joy (trailer) is the longest 77-minute film I have ever seen, but I mean that in only the best kind of ways. Director Kelly Reichardt intentionally establishes a deliberate, plodding pace about two distant friends who fell out of touch meeting up to go on a road/hiking trip to find a tucked-away and highly reputable hot springs. The film opens up with Mark (Daniel London) meditating at home when he gets a call from his free-spirited old friend, Kurt (Will Oldham), with an invite for a last-minute weekend trek to discover these mystical hot springs. That opening scene does a masterful job with its minimalist dialog and awkward body language to indicate how Mark is still not quite settling into married life with a kid on the way and comes off a little too eager to jump at the opportunity to get out of the house last minute for the weekend.

The film jumps to sitting in on an extended driving scene with Mark listening to political talk radio, and when he meets up with Kurt is when the intentionally long scenes start to take hold. I like smartly written films with smooth-flowing dialog filled with edgy quips and retorts, but I also appreciate a complete 180 as seen here and in movies like Slacker where the dialog sounds….uncomfortably natural. When Kurt and Mark start off driving, there are many advertent pauses during the conversations where it seems like the two are trying to think of topics to bring up to talk about and catch up. I can 100% relate to that, and it is insanely rare how often I run across that in average big-budget films and pull it off so well like it is done in Old Joy. Highlights from the road trip part of the film include how well shot little moments are like a gas station stop with oblique camera angles that somehow capture the subtle but noticeable moments of the excitement of getting out for the weekend as Kurt and Mark amusingly toss beverage koozies at each other. Watching the pair drive around aimlessly while Kurt tries to remember how to get to the springs and eventually resorting to a makeshift campsite while exchanging philosophical stoner verbiage is another memorable scene of their journey.

I would be remiss to go this long without giving a shoutout to Lucy, Mark’s canine pal tagging along for the journey. In the bonus feature interviews, it was enlightening to hear that it is actually Reichardt’s dog who she had no choice but to include in the film because she could not find a dog-sitter while filming. Reichardt stated she was anxious about how it would work out since Lucy had no film training. Lucy wound up as a perfect third wheel for the adventure. She blended in perfectly, especially with some smart improving with Oldham, where he would instinctually play with her during the hiking spots of the movie. Eventually, the trio found the hidden turnoff to their destination and go on a hike to see the hot springs. The film once again, through exquisite cinematography and intentional drawn-out shots with very little dialog, shows how all the hassle to reach their endpoint was worth it. It is a boldly ambiguous, memorable scene. The film not-so-climatically wraps up with Mark dropping Kurt off, and the movie goes out of its way to capture another little thing so well that few other movies have pulled off in the form of the malaise-filled drive back home and the dread of the return to the normality.

I have the Criterion Edition of Old Joy, and it has four bonus features totaling about an hour altogether. Daniel London and Will Oldham reunite for the first time since production wrapped in 2006 for a conversation filmed in 2019. They exchange many interesting production stories, with the one standing out the most to me being the warning from the park ranger escorting them to the hot springs on how brave they were to go in there because of all the gunk they have fished out of there over the years. An interview with Reichardt is a must-listen on how she decided to film this movie after taking a sabbatical from filmmaking. An interview with the author of the original short story the film is based on, Jim Raymond, on how he met Kelly and how satisfied he was with her treatment of the adaptation and changes she made for the big screen. Finally, Director of Photography Peter Sillen shares a fair amount of production factoids and insights. This being a Criterion release, there is the requisite booklet included, which has a 14-page essay by Ed Halter that thoroughly dissects the film and its production and the entirety of the 22 page original “Old Joy” short story from Jim Raymond. I accidentally stumbled upon this movie browsing through the latest Criterion releases, and the description of the film made it sound right up my alley by how unorthodox it is. This style of filmmaking may not be for everybody with its different structure and laidback style of dialog from the average theatrical movie. I wound up absolutely loving Old Joy, and was thrilled to hear how this film was a hit with critics and was the catalyst for Reichardt directing more beloved indie films following this like Wendy & Lucy, First Cow, and Night Moves. Other Random Backlog Movie Blogs 3 12 Angry Men (1957) 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown 21 Jump Street The Accountant Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie Atari: Game Over The Avengers: Age of Ultron The Avengers: Endgame The Avengers: Infinity War Batman: The Dark Knight Rises Batman: The Killing Joke Batman: Mask of the Phantasm Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice Bounty Hunters Cabin in the Woods Captain America: Civil War Captain America: The First Avenger Captain America: The Winter Soldier Christmas Eve The Clapper Clash of the Titans (1981) Clint Eastwood 11-pack Special The Condemned 2 Countdown Creed I & II Deck the Halls Detroit Rock City Die Hard Dredd The Eliminators The Equalizer Dirty Work Faster Fast and Furious I-VIII Field of Dreams Fight Club The Fighter For Love of the Game Good Will Hunting Gravity Grunt: The Wrestling Movie Guardians of the Galaxy Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 Hell Comes to Frogtown Hercules: Reborn Hitman I Like to Hurt People Indiana Jones 1-4 Inglourious Basterds Ink The Interrogation Interstellar Jay and Silent Bob Reboot Jobs Joy Ride 1-3 Justice League (2017 Whedon Cut) Last Action Hero Major League Mallrats Man of Steel Man on the Moon Man vs Snake Marine 3-6 Merry Friggin Christmas Metallica: Some Kind of Monster Mortal Kombat Mortal Kombat Legends: Scorpions Revenge National Treasure National Treasure: Book of Secrets Nintendo Quest Not for Resale Payback (Director’s Cut) Pulp Fiction The Punisher (1989) The Ref The Replacements Reservoir Dogs Rocky I-VIII Running Films Part 1 Running Films Part 2 San Andreas ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery Scott Pilgrim vs the World The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Shoot em Up Slacker Skyscraper Small Town Santa Steve Jobs Source Code Star Trek I-XIII Sully Take Me Home Tonight TMNT Trauma Center The Tooth Fairy 1 & 2 UHF Veronica Mars Vision Quest The War Wild The Wizard Wonder Woman The Wrestler (2008) X-Men: Apocalypse X-Men: Days of Future Past

[heyyyharry]

My Girl Series: Chapter 12 - I Love You

…in which Y/N wants to face her past, but Harry wants to leave his behind.

Series description: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same, years later they meet again at a funeral.

AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n; (4-year age gap)

Chapter 11: Paper Love - Y/N tries to compromise, and Harry tries to change.

warning: smut at the end.

OC version

.

Anyone who knew Y/N well enough would know that she never got on well with her father, and she deeply loathed his new fiancée Marcy. But no one, not even Celine, had an idea how much Y/N used to adore that woman.

It wasn't a coincidence that Marcy started seeing Bradford not so long after Tam's death. Before that, she used to be an employee at his hardware store in Holmes Chapel. She was clever, pretty, and funny — everything a man could ever dream of. And for an impressionable little girl like Y/N, Marcy was the kind of woman she wanted to become. She used to give Y/N useful advice on boy issues, on how to deal with mean girls in school, and she also had a great taste in literature and music. How could anyone not love Marcy?

How could anyone not love Marcy?

The more Y/N thought about it, the sadder it got. People like Marcy could have anything they wanted, even a married man; and those like her mother had no choice but to accept defeat and swallow the pain. 

Y/N felt very disgusted by her father’s wrongful affair, but most importantly, she felt like she'd betrayed her mother for even liking the person who'd torn their family apart. Her friendship with Marcy made her feel terribly guilty towards her mum, to the point where she ended up lying to Harry that she'd never met that woman before their dinner with her dad.

However, ever since Harry came back, those two had gradually become the least of her concerns. As a matter of fact, she didn't even hate Marcy as much as before. She knew she couldn't stop their wedding from happening, thus the only thing she'd asked from her father’s future wife was to leave her alone and stay out of her life. But Marcy didn't seem to get that. She went all the way against Y/N's request by showing up at her door three nights before the wedding.

"I'm visiting a friend in the city so I thought I should pay you a visit," Marcy said to the confused girl who was glued to the spot. "I'm actually going shopping. Wanna come with me? We can get you a cute dress for my wedding."

"Why did you think it was a good idea to show up here?" Y/N said, lifting an eyebrow. "Sorry, I'm very busy. I can't go with you."

"Wait!"

"What now?"

"I'm very happy that you accepted the invitation. I know this is hard for you but...please don't be like this," Marcy begged as she reached for Y/N's hand, causing the girl to freeze in an instant. "Please give me a chance to get to know you again...I—I'm not asking much just let me buy you a dress to the wedding."

At that moment, Y/N could envision her slamming the door and turning a deaf ear to everything Marcy had just said to carry on with her half-finished work in progress. In reality, however, she was actually considering the offer.

She'd told herself to stop running away from the past and focus on the future, because this grudge she held against her father and his fiancée had only been doing her damage. In the end, it was her own worries that ended up breaking her heart. Maybe she could never like Marcy the same way she used to, but she could give her a chance to fix her wrongdoings. A little effort to make peace was still better than nothing at all.

"Alright," Y/N said at last, making Marcy squeal in joy. "Wait here, I'll go get my coat."

.

.

.

As Jeff was briefing Harry about his shooting schedule for June, the actor let all the words fly from one ear to the other while his eyes stayed fixed on the phone, allowing his hairdresser to do whatever she wanted. He had put all the trust in her to make him look the best for tonight as he knew she had never disappointed him or his fans.

Yes, a red-carpet event sounded immensely fun and exciting, but truthfully, Harry hated these occasions and would only go when he must. If it hadn't been for Niall, who'd written most of the songs on the movie soundtrack and would be there as well, he wouldn't have agreed to attend that premiere.

Ping!

A text popped up on the screen, now distracting Harry even more from what Jeff was rambling on about.

⌲ Bambi: Just ran into Mrs. Huang. She complained about us being too loud again.

Trying hard not to laugh at the message, the man bit his bottom lip and quickly typed down a response:

⌲ Always fucked you good, didn't I? Pretty proud of myself. ;)

⌲ Bambi: Harry!

⌲ Well, you started it.

⌲ Now I cannot stop thinking about last night...

⌲ Bambi: Why are you always horny at the worst time?

⌲ Are you in class?

⌲ Bambi: Nope, dress shopping with THE bride.

⌲ Who?

⌲ Bambi: Marcy.

⌲ Lol really?

⌲ Bambi: Really.

"Done," said the hairdresser as she patted Harry on the back. "Let's get you dressed."

⌲ Gotta go. Tell me all about it tonight?

⌲ Bambi: Okay.

⌲ Bambi: CANNOT WAIT TO SEE YOUR RED CARPET PHOTOS!!!

Harry giggled at the text for he could hear her shouting with enthusiasm in his head. Jeff called him louder for the second time, causing the actor to look up and finally notice all the questioning stares his whole crew was giving him.

"Why are you still sitting there?! Hurry up!"

"Sorry, sorry, coming!" He shouted cheerfully, wasting no time to fly right out of his chair and following Jeff out of the room.

.

.

.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath as she stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, slightly tugging on the flared skirt of her pastel pink gown. It now occurred to the girl that she hadn't gone shopping in a while. Lately, her life had been all about student debts, writer's block, and family drama. She seemed to forget how to really take care of herself.

Tilting her head to the side, she happily thought, maybe with some nice clothes and red lipstick on, she could be just as beautiful as the models Harry used to date.

"I think this looks cute on you."

"But it's pastel pink," said Y/N as she turned around to face Marcy. "I hate this color."

"You used to love it."

"Not anymore."

Little Y/N would grab all the pink items in the store and try on every single piece just because she was obsessed with the hue. But she was a different person back then — a bubbly young girl who saw pink in everything in her life. She'd read somewhere that the pink color stood for unconditional love and understanding, both of which she'd completely lost faith in as she grew up. Now without the kaleidoscope for an eye, her life was always either black or blue.

"Do you have this same dress in a darker color?" Marcy asked an employee in the store, but Y/N stopped that lady right before she could walk away.

"Can we take a break?" she turned to her future step mum. "I've been trying on dresses for half an hour already."

"Oh, alright." Marcy awkwardly nodded as she watched the twenty-year-old flop down on the sofa and pull out her phone — something she always did to avoid unwanted conversations. Taking a seat beside the girl, Marcy didn't mean to be nosy, but it was hard to ignore the beam on Y/N's face in reaction to her phone repeatedly pinging with new messages. It didn't take a genius to figure out who they were all from.

"So..." Marcy trailed off, hands linked together to rest on her knees. "You're going to the wedding with Harry?"

"Yes," Y/N replied shortly without looking at her.

So she waited a couple seconds more before asking another question. "Are you two dating?"

With this one, Y/N finally peeled her eyes off the screen and turned to her dad's fiancée, an eyebrow raised in annoyance. "What?" She scoffed. "Can't friends go to a wedding together?"

"Yes, of course!" Marcy freaked out. "It's just...your dad said—"

"My dad doesn't know anything about me." Y/N shook her head. "He doesn't even know my favorite book even though I used to rant about it at dinner every night. Do you really think he knows or cares whom I'm dating?"

"What Happens In London by Julia Quinn, right? Your favorite book?"

The question for an answer caught Y/N by surprise this time. "How do you—"

"—remember?" Marcy raised a smile. "You once told me your favorite quote from the book was: 'When a man writes a romance, the woman dies. When a woman writes one, it ends all tidy and sweet.' It's become my favorite quote ever since."

"It's still my favorite," Y/N mumbled; for the first time in forever, showing a genuine smile in front of Marcy.

That seemed like a good beginning for everything to go back to the way it’d been. Y/N forgot about her hatred for this woman who began to talk about how Sir Harry Valentine in the book was everyone's dream man, and all the things she adored about Lady Olivia Bevelstoke.

"Sassy, witty, and strong. That's why she's one of the best female characters." Y/N giggled, leaving a massive grin on Marcy's face.

"If you love Lady Bevelstoke then you should really take this dress."

"What does she have to do with this dress?" The twenty-year-old squinted her eyes in confusion as she looked down at the pink gown she was wearing. Such bright color always overwhelmed her, giving her the feeling that other people might stare, when all she wanted was to blend into the crowd or be invisible. She wasn't used to getting excessive attention.

But Marcy only rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you forgot Olivia's 'Unmarried Lady Sorts of Things' list. The first thing is: 'Wear pastel colors'."

"'And be quite glad if you possess the correct complexion for such hues'," Y/N nodded her head slowly, chuckling to herself. "I remember."

"I don't make the rules, Y/N. Olivia did."

Marcy rose up, pulling a giggly Y/N back to the full-length mirror and telling the girl to stand tall, chin up.

"There you go," she encouraged, lips curved into a wide grin. "Lady Bevelstoke." 

The name got the younger girl smiling from ear to ear. With one long look at her own reflection, Y/N inhaled deeply. "Okay." She nodded at last. "I'll take this one."

"Yay!" Marcy squealed, clapping her hands. "You go change and I'll pay for this dress then we'll head out to dinner!"

In that moment, watching the woman dash away to go get an employee, Y/N must admit that she was genuinely happy. She changed back to her own clothes and brought the dress to the front counter, still wearing the same smile.

But she really should've known better — that every bit of happiness in her life up to that point had been all short-lived, including that moment right then in the store.

She saw Marcy hand the employee her credit card, and her stomach clenched immediately as she noticed the shiny little rock on Marcy's slim ring finger. Y/N's smile broke, and so did her heart. She frantically clutched Marcy's left wrist, yanking it up, causing the woman to release a startled gasp as her mouth fell open.

"Is this...my...my grandmother's ring?"

Marcy withdrew her hand when Y/N's grip became uncomfortably tight as if it was meant to break her bone.

"Yes?" She answered, fear overtaking her face. "It's also my engagement ring...What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Y/N laughed wryly.

Everything.

Her dad had used that ring to propose to her mother, who had never taken it off when she was alive, not even once, not even to do house chores, not even when they threw things at the wall and he screamed at her. That was how much the ring meant to the late woman. And the fact that Marcy was wearing it around her finger today could only mean one thing — Y/N's father took it from her mother's body just to put it on the hand of his new and younger wife.

She might've been fooled twice, but she wasn't stupid. She wasn't convinced that Marcy truly had no idea what was wrong. This woman was either extremely dumb, or viciously pretentious, and Y/N knew better than anyone that Marcy was a smart person. And even though she also knew what her parents had wasn't love, it was still painful to think how fast a person could erase from his memory the one he'd vowed to treasure for the rest of his life.

"This is not your ring," Y/N said with her fists clenched tight. "This belongs to my mother."

"For god's sake! Your mother is dead, Y/N!" The harsh emphasis on that one word punched Y/N right in the guts, causing her heart to wrench, yet Marcy didn't just stop there. "What is a dead woman gonna do? Dig her way out of her grave and cut off my finger?"

That was the final straw.

"I was right about you..." Y/N scoffed, quivering lips formed a broken smirk as she shook her head slowly. "You're nothing but a homewrecker. A husband-stealing whore that—"

Marcy's hand smacked across her face, snapping it back with force and causing the girl to clutch her cheek, eyes watering. The small cut below her eye marked by the ring could be easily noticed from a distance. And Marcy was petrified now that she’d realized what she'd done. 

Both of them could hear whispers from the other people in the store who didn't want to interfere with their conflict, even though it was shocking how those two had gone from laughing together to one slapping the other.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't...I didn't mean to..." Marcy reached out, attempting to touch Y/N's face. But the girl immediately took a step back to dodge those hands like a bullet.

Knowing how hot-tempered Y/N had always been, Marcy expected a slap for revenge right then and there, but all that she received was a sense of fear in those glistening eyes. Without another word, the girl ran fast out of the store, ignoring Marcy calling out to her. She ran and didn't look back.

Soon she found herself lost in a river of pedestrians, all were either in a rush or minding their own business, and would just raise their voice if someone accidentally bumped into them. Y/N swirled around those strangers as the panic rose in her chest. She didn't even think, letting her feet guide the way to end up outside Harry's house. 

Trying to steady her breathing pace, Y/N flopped onto the doorstep, holding both knees to her chest and trying to ignore the stung of the slap evident on her red cheek. Though the last thing she wanted was to bother Harry while he was having fun at the after party, she couldn't stop herself from pulling out her phone and dialing his number. She felt the need to be with someone, not just anyone, him.

.

.

"I just ran into Ruby."

When Harry heard those words from Niall, his nerves were frayed. The party around him still continued, the music was still blasting at maximum volume, and all the guests in fancy clothes were still dancing and having a blast; to Harry, however, the entire world stopped as his whole body turned to stone.

He had never been claustrophobic before, but right now he began to feel suffocated for he knew she was somewhere in that same crowd. She could be in a different room, or just a few steps away from where he stood, still what mattered was the fact that she was there.

The mixture of expensive perfumes in the air along with loud laughter and rowdy conversations caused Harry a headache. He looked from left to right, frantically searching for the figure of the woman he used to love, unable to decide whether he was trying to spot her so he could hide from her, or just to see her face again.

It was annoying, wasn't it?

Harry thought he'd mastered not thinking about Ruby, now the possibility of running into her had him plagued with a sinking stomach.

"But she wasn't at the premiere," He nervously blurted, making his friend heave a sigh.

"She probably skipped it. I don't know."

"Did she...did she say something to you?"

Niall's hesitation before answering that one question got Harry sweating in his suit.

"She asked me where you were. She wanted to speak to you about something, but I told her that you didn't want to see her again."

Harry nodded slightly as he muttered a weak "thank you" before rushing towards the nearest exit. Despite Niall desperately calling out to ask where he was going, the actor only walked faster. Once again, he found himself running away from the ghost of his past, like the same old pathetic Harry a couple months ago. It was awkward, embarrassing even.

As he stumbled through the door, his brain was filled with questions that needed answers. What had gotten into him back there? Why was he so afraid of meeting Ruby again? Was it because he still hadn't moved on? Wait. No. He was sure that he had. Because the only girl that'd been on his mind lately was his Bambi, only his Bambi. Maybe he should get back to her.

His throat was dry when he swallowed hard and got into the backseat of his car. He told his driver Y/N's address, hoping that she was still awake to let him in. While chewing on his bottom lip impatiently, Harry looked out of the window, watching streetlights passing by and processing all the complicated thoughts running right through his head. He didn't want to start guessing what it was that Ruby wanted to talk about.

The loud ringtone pierced right through the silence in the car, causing Harry to flinch as he took out the device from his jacket. Once he saw Bambi on the screen, he picked up without reluctance, but the girl didn't give him a chance to speak first.

"I'm right outside your door." Her voice was rapid and fear-filled, making his heart halt for a split second as he quickly told the driver to go back to his house instead.

"I'm on my way home," he said fast into the phone. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I...I need to see you..." She sounded strained, which made him worry even more.

"I'm almost there. Can you wait five more minutes?"

"Sure" was all she said before hanging up on him.

Harry put his phone away and urged the driver to speed up, thanking God that it was late and the avenue was clear. In less than five minutes, he had arrived at his London home. He thanked the driver and rushed out of the vehicle to find Y/N sitting on his doorstep. With both knees held close to her chest, the girl only looked up when she heard his hasty footsteps on the pavement coming her way.

She'd been holding back from the moment she got there, but as soon as he showed up, it didn't take too long for her eyes to flood with tears. She didn't explain. He didn't ask. In silence, she fell into his arms and he held her tight, one hand at the back of her head while his other arm locked around her waist. She desperately needed that hug right now. But little did she know, he needed it just as much.

He kissed her temple as she clutched onto his jacket, telling her no matter what had happened, it was all fine now that he was there. It was dark outside so Harry didn't notice the welt on her cheek at first, but now that he had, he felt a physical pain surging through his bones. He took her face with tenderness. His hands were cold, but the softness of his touch made her feel warm inside.

"Did...did she hit you?" Sadness clouded his features when she shook her head to deny it, still, the look on her face screamed a loud yes. 

Quickly, he unlocked the door and pulled her into his living room where he could hold her for much longer without being afraid of curious eyes on the street. Harry didn't ask any more questions, knowing she would only tell the truth once she was calm enough and ready to confide in him. Now his job was to make her feel safe. He gave her one of his t-shirts so she could change out of her clothes and asked her to wait in the bedroom for him to return with a glass of water. 

She looked exactly like the night they first met. Underneath that hard shell she'd created for herself was still the same little girl who ran away from her parents' fight to a place where she felt safe. And he couldn't decide whether it was disheartening or endearing to see her this vulnerable. Maybe it was a terrible mixture of both. No matter how hard she tried to disregard the nine-year-old she once was, he knew from the sadness in her eyes that she had never really changed.

In silence, he watched her finish her water, smiling at the way his t-shirt looked too big on her. He wanted to just hold her in his arms and shower her face with sweet kisses until she fell asleep.

"I'll be right back," he said when she handed him back the empty glass. But when he turned away, her fingers were locked around his wrist, pulling him back to her.

"Don't go..." She begged. "Lie with me."

Harry was just about to say it would only take a minute, yet he didn't have the heart to deny Y/N's little request when she was giving him that face.

Nodding his head once, the man set the glass down on the nightstand then climbed onto the bed, pulling her close. Now that she was lying close to his chest, he thought she might feel his heart beat for her. They stayed in that position for a while, with him stroking her hair, and her fidgeting with the buttons of his white shirt. She loved the smell of his cologne which always put her at ease. While wearing his shirt and wrapped up in his arms, she was soaked in the scent of him, thinking she could stay like that forever and always.

"I read somewhere that when you lie too close to a person and can listen to their heart beat, your heart will slowly beat in sync with theirs," she said, which came out as a whisper and she felt his body shake with quiet laughter.

"Then your heart must be going insane right now." His joke made her eye roll, but he was staring at the ceiling so he probably had missed that precious smile she put on for him.

After another moment of silence, Y/N had regained her composure to finally tell Harry what had happened at the store, everything but the reason for the mark on her cheek, though she believed Harry had already figured it out. 

She breathed steadily, sorrow dawned on her face as she broke the silence once again, "when I was little, my dad used to say 'I love you' to my mum all the time. In the morning. In the afternoon. Before bed. Every single chance he got, he said those words to her. But one day he suddenly stopped. I assumed he just forgot somehow, not knowing the last time I heard him say he loved her would actually be the last." Her voice was trembling with various emotions. "From that day he raised his voice so often, he smashed furniture and made her cry instead of making her laugh. Maybe he never actually loved her. And those 'I love you's that he used to say every day meant nothing at all. It's just so depressing to think about it...isn't it? How fast a human's heart can change. How easy they can say those words and take them back whenever they want."

Harry's chest lifted when he sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it all out.

"Maybe he did love her at one point," he said, causing the girl to purse her lips.

"Is that what love supposed to be like? Something so fleeting that happens once and can just vanish the next moment?"

Those words really made Harry think.

"You're right." He nodded. "I guess not."

Shifting a bit so he could look at her face, he lifted her chin with his fingers so they were eye to eye and lips to lips.

"Don't think about him anymore," he told her. "Focus on me."

Y/N nervously giggled. For the first time since their kiss in the rain, Harry felt her shiver like a teenage girl being touched for the first time. There was something about the way the bedroom light reflecting in her weary eyes that got him hypnotized.

"Want you to fuck me," she whimpered, hot breath fanning his mouth before their lips attached for a passionate kiss. On spur of the moment, Harry shook his head rapidly, flipping them over so he was hovering above her. His pulsing member was right between her legs where she wanted him most now.

"Let's take it slow this time." He swallowed hard, stroking away the pain on her cheek with his thumb. "If that's alright with you."

Y/N could only answer by nodding fast, and that was all Harry had waited for to kiss her again, slipping his tongue past her lips, gasping when she held his hips down to feel him grow against her thigh. Slowly, as he wished, she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off to reveal his bare chest, running her fingertips across his tattoos as if she was learning the map to remember every single detail inked on his torso. 

With a hand at the back of his neck, she pulled him down to get a taste of those lips again. She could never get over their sweetness and she enjoyed the way he groaned into her open mouth. His crotch was slightly rubbing against her clothed sex, creating some fiction to maintain the tiny bit of self-control he'd got left.

The feeling was so strange, overwhelming, yet made him feel complete. His t-shirt that she was wearing soon came off after she'd managed to get him out of his tight jeans. They made out slowly with only his boxers in the way as his fingers found their favorite spot between her thighs. He kissed her hard, wanting to devour down every single sound she made, loving all the different ways she whispered his name. He loved to know no one else had the privilege to make her feel this good. Only him.

"There you go, baby. Fuck, that's my girl," he growled into her mouth as she rode out her first orgasm, one hand gripping his wrist as the movements of his fingers was gradually slowing down. He could get off just by looking at the way her face screwed up for pleasure, knowing he was the only one who could touch her this way, kiss her this way, hold her this way. "All mine," Harry whispered, stroking her hair as he tugged down his boxers while she was recovering.

"All yours, H. Want you...fuck...want you inside..." The sounds she made was the most heavenly he'd ever heard. God, he loved every single word she said to him. The fact that they weren't in a rush turned him on even more. He was so hard for her that his eyes watered when her sweaty palm wrapped around him to stroke him slowly. It felt so good, but if she continued, this would end embarrassingly soon.

"Shit, baby...Stop..." He took her wrist and removed her hand quickly. His breathing became ragged when he rolled the condom on and kissed her again. Both of them gasped out loud the second he started to push in slowly for her to adjust to the fullness. Now they could feel everything at once.

His hand reached for hers and they interlocked as he kissed her tenderly, mumbling "you feel amazing" and "so tight for me" against her plump lips. He was completely mesmerized by the way she scrunched her nose and tossed her head back. He couldn't help it, he had to bite down on that pretty neck, causing her fingers to tangle in his messy hair. The feeling caused them both to shiver in complete pleasure and ecstasy.

His warm hands roamed all over her naked body, stroking her flushed skin with affection as he focused on every single thrust, going steady and deep, wanting her to feel all of him.

"You're so beautiful." He breathed into Y/N's mouth, making her laugh slightly as she opened her eyes to stare back at him.

"You're gorgeous," she whispered, holding onto his neck to bring his lips back on hers. He slowly massaged her my breast as they kiss, causing her back to arch as she rewarded him with another soft moan. For his every thrust, her chest rose and fell dramatically. He could feel her getting close as her drenched walls were squeezing him when they maintained eye contact. Her stare was intense, yet tender, and sweet. The noises she made when she fell apart would come back to haunt him in his most beautiful dreams. Harry pushed faster, one hand holding her face, the other holding one of her legs up so he could give it to her harder.

"Yes, baby, that's it...Fuck," he blurted through gritted teeth, feeling himself coming close but he didn't want to close his eyes in fear of missing out her reaction to how good he was making her feel. With one loud gasp, Y/N came hard around him. Harry felt so close to the edge, just a few pushes more...

But then it happened.

"Harry...I love you...."

His eyes shot open wide. In the haziness of his own pleasure, he could still hear those three words so loud and clear. It wasn't a mistake. Y/N breathed harshly through her nose as she clung onto his back when he shuddered and came hard into the condom.

I love you.

Those three words were now echoing inside his brain as both of them tried to catch their breath. Harry's expression hardened as he stared at Y/N, yet the girl only seemed confused.

"What's wrong?" She quietly giggled, stroking his cheek. "Did I say something silly when I came again?"

With that question, he knew she didn't realize it. She'd let those words slip out in the heat of the moment. She didn't even remember saying them.

"No." He pressed his lips into a nervous smile, but he guessed she couldn't see it through. "I kind of spaced out..."

Y/N stayed silent and kissed his nose. The beam on her face made him feel twice as guilty. What would he have done if those words hadn't got out by accident? Would he have said them back?

Now in the darkness of the room, with her warm body pressed against his, Harry felt so hard to breathe. The feeling was no different from having a panic attack, and he was glad that Y/N had fallen asleep and couldn't sense that something was definitely wrong. He couldn't even shut his eyes now, just lying there in silence, staring at the moonlit ceiling and thinking hard about those words she'd said, which scared him witless.

I love you.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, pinching his forehead as he tried to get rid of the voice inside his head that sounded just like her. He tried to count sheep in the hope that it would help him drift off, when the buzzing of his phone on the nightstand struck right through his brain. Y/N was too exhausted to be bothered by the noise, still, she did shift around a little bit, so Harry quickly turned off the alert before it woke her. 

But the moment he saw who was calling, the color all drained out of his face.

RUBY

[searchingwardrobes]

Blackbird

Happy birthday, @shireness-says! I have so enjoyed all of our chats during the cssns about our love for the Brothers Jones, Frozen Jewel, and Captain Cobra. You write all of those so well, but I tried to give you some quality Captain Cobra for your birthday nonetheless along with a fic that sums up your love of art and books. I hope you like it and that your day has been awesome! It is of course, based on the Beatles song “Blackbird” which I think both Killian and Emma could relate to.

Summary: Magical Mystery Books is your stereotypical quirky bookstore. Killian Jones, however, is not your typical quirky bookstore owner. Neither are the dark yet beautiful pieces of art that hang over the cash register.

Rating: G

Words: 2,600 and some change

Also on Ao3

Part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist. Previous Gifts:Shatter Me|White Flag|Keep Your Eyes Open|Black Balloon|Suitcase|Halo|Stay|

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jennjenn615 @bethacaciakay @teamhook @kday426 @thislassishooked @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @ultraluckycatnd @vvbooklady1256 @let-it-raines @distant-rose

Henry was the one who found it; the quirky bookstore called Magical Mystery Books. It was one of those eclectic places with every genre imaginable from out of print gothic hardbacks to bestselling paperbacks to edgy graphic novels. Just like one would expect, it was crowded with volumes from floor to ceiling. Yet contrary to stereotype, it wasn’t messy. The place was not only immaculately clean but organized by genre and carefully alphabetized.

Yet exactly according to stereotype there was also the store owner and his one faithful employee who could find what you were looking for even with a vague description. However, defying stereotype, said store owner was not an eccentric old lady with a cat. Oh no, he was far from that.

Okay, Emma Swan had to admit, maybe slightly eccentric. But he was male and definitely not old. Neither was he a bookish looking fellow with a tweed coat and an awkward stammer. Though he did occasionally whip out a pair of black framed reading glasses.

No, Killian Jones did not look like a book store owner with his leather motorcycle jacket, his pierced ear, and his distractedly tight jeans. The kids loved to come to the book store for the great YA selection and vintage comics. The adults came to ogle the store’s owner. Or perhaps his lone employee Belle with her high heels, fashionable skirts, and perfect, wavy auburn hair.

Emma, however, came for her son. Henry swore that no other store had a better fantasy or sci fi collection, and once Henry had exhausted all of those, Mr. Jones gladly supplied him with more obscure recommendations. Both Jones and Belle adored Henry, a rare ten-year-old who stood in rapt fascination at their collection of original illustrations by Maurice Sendak and E.H. Shepherd which were under glass in the children’s section with a sign that read “not for sale.” They had once belonged to Belle’s mother, a dedicated bibliophile herself. Henry even soaked up stories Belle told about how her mother risked death in a house fire to save the illustrations.

“That boy will be a writer someday,” Killian commented to Emma as he rang up her purchases one afternoon.

The boy in question was poring over an Avengers comic protected by plastic circa 1969. She hoped he had noticed how many digits were on that price tag.

“He certainly has enough notebooks full of stories to publish one day.” Emma couldn’t help the mom brag. She certainly hadn’t expected to luck out with a kid like Henry the day she held that pregnancy test in her trembling hand at nineteen.

“Aye, he’s told me. I said I’d like to read them, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Emma assured Killian, “he won’t let me read them either.”

“Someday perhaps.”

Emma took the bag of paperbacks that hung from Killian’s prosthetic. She had never asked how he lost his left hand; she honestly didn’t know how one went about broaching such subjects. Henry didn’t know either, though Belle had alluded to some sort of accident when Killian was in the navy.

She thanked him, but before she turned to go, she noticed something new hanging above the register. It was mixed media art; a painting combined with some sort of collage technique. It was a dark painting with an outline of a bird done in such muted grays it almost blended into the background. Yet the collage technique gave the bird texture and a sense of movement. A quote was woven through the dark background: “Blackbird singing in the dead of night.”

“Beatles?” Emma asked, gesturing over his shoulder.

He smiled at her, but not the cocky one he gave to flirtatious customers. This one was more

genuine. “Know that song?”

Emma smiled in return. “My favorite Beatles song, actually.”

“Mine too.”

Emma shuffled her feet, something about his smile making prickles of nerves skitter across the back of her neck. “Well, I guess I see why you liked the painting then. And it makes the bookstore name make more sense. Then again you are British . . . “

She trailed off when she realized she was rambling.

“Ah, and all British people must like the Beatles.”

“Well, no, I mean – I didn’t mean -”

He laughed and waved his hand to dismiss her discomfort. “No offense taken, love.”

Face burning, Emma grabbed Henry and left as quickly as she could. It was easier when he focused all his attention on her son.

******************************************************

Henry had gotten to that age when he was suddenly harder to buy for. Most kids his age wanted electronics, and while she had saved up for a video game system last Christmas, most stuff was out of her price range. Thank God her kid liked books.

Of course, figuring out what he would like and what he hadn’t already read wasn’t easy. Hence why she was at Magical Mystery Books while Henry was at school. It wasn’t until she turned down an aisle to find Killian Jones with his ass literally in her face that it occurred to her she’d never been here without her son as a buffer. Jones was atop a rolling ladder shelving books on the top shelf, hence why his ass was at eye level. She noticed a bit of his abs as his shirt hitched up, and she averted her gaze as her cheeks burned. What was her problem? It wasn’t as if she’d never seen a man’s . . . er, assets before.

Emma took a few steps back before clearing her throat to announce her presence. When he turned and saw her, he gave her that same grin again. The one that made his laugh lines crinkle and his cheeks dimple. The one that made her skin buzz like a live wire.

“Emma! It’s nice to see you here at this time of day. Let me guess, you’re looking for a gift for your lad.”

Emma arched her brows. “How’d you know that?”

He shrugged as he turned and headed down the sci fi aisle. “Well, time of day, plus Henry mentioned he had a birthday coming up.” He stopped, ran his fingertip along the bindings before him, then pulled out a slender volume.

“A Wrinkle in Time?” Emma asked incredulously.

Killian nodded. “He said he’d never read it because it’s a ‘girl’s book’.”

Emma had to giggle at his eye roll and air quotes.

“I told him he’d miss out on way too many books with that narrow mindset.”

Emma’s brow wrinkled, unsure. “But the movie sucked.”

Killian staggered backwards, his hand to his heart. “Swan please, my heart can’t take it.”

Emma shook her head, laughing fully now. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re melodramatic?”

“Constantly,’ he told her with a wink.

Killian rang up A Wrinkle in Time along with another selection he said Henry had been eyeing last time he was there. It was something from the late 50s called Have Space Suit – Will Travel and had a cover that looked awfully sci-fi theater kitschy to Emma, but she decided to trust Killian’s suggestions. After all, when it came to this fantasy and sci-fi stuff, Emma was completely lost.

Emma paused once again when taking her bag. A new painting was above the cash register, in the same mixed media genre as the previous one. It was still mostly dark and featured a textured bird, yet this time there was a tiny ray of bright colors in the top right corner. The bird’s wings were outstretched this time, one of them bent and crooked. This time the words “Take these broken wings and learn to fly” seemed to stretch towards the light. It took Emma’s breath away. Without tearing her eyes away from it, she spoke to Killian.

“It’s . . . sad, but beautiful.”

“Aye,” he told her softly as he gave her the receipt, “some of the most breathtaking things are a little sad. Wouldn’t you say?”

She looked away from the painting and into his sparkling blue eyes, and she had the strangest feeling they were talking about two different things.

As she took the receipt, her eyes were drawn to his prosthetic and she realized – the bird’s left wing was the one that was broken.

******************************************************

Emma was tucked into a leather wingback chair in the romance section of Magical Mystery Books (something Killian had already teased her about, to which she had retorted that it was either this or force her hips into the bright yellow Curious George chair in the children’s section) answering one last email for work. She could hear Killian and Henry having a heated debate in the YA lit section.

“- but there should be hope after a writer puts you through all that pain!”

“But dystopian lit is about commenting on social ills, is it not? Her whole point was the senselessness of war,” Killian retorted.

Emma shook her head and smiled as she hit send on her email.

“But saving Prim was supposed to be the whole point!”

Emma frowned. Henry had taken the ending of that trilogy way too hard. So hard it had worried her a little. She kicked herself now for letting him read them; he was probably too young.

“And thus the senseless part.” Killian always interacted with Henry with the utmost respect, never talking down to him.

“I still threw that third book against the wall,” she heard Henry mutter.

Killian laughed heartily. “Aye, I confess I did too. And not just over Prim.”

“Finn?”

“God yes, that pissed me off.”

She heard both of them grumbling in agreement at Suzanne Collin’s plot choices, and a huge smile broke out on her face. She pushed herself off the chair and headed towards them. Henry was perched on a stool, a notebook in his lap as he scribbled with a pencil. Killian was next to him shelving books from a cart.

“Hey, Mom! This book report on Mockingjay is going to be so good thanks to Killian.” Henry shot him a glance. “Even though we sort of disagree a little.”

“On the contrary,” Killian countered, ruffling her son’s hair. If it made her ovaries quiver, that was only because she’d been a single mom for ten years. Ten long years. “I happen to agree wholeheartedly. I was just trying to help you see another point of view.”

“Ready kid?” Emma asked as her son stuffed his notebook into his backpack.

“Yeah, Mom.”

Emma frowned as she watched Killian make his way behind the counter. “I’m sorry we just came here to bug you for homework help. We didn’t even buy anything.”

Killian leaned his arms on the counter, and Emma couldn’t take her eyes off how his muscles filled out his button-down shirt. He’d rolled his sleeves up, revealing the dark hair on his arms as well as where his left arm met his prosthetic hand. Emma wondered if it ever made him self-conscious. She hoped it didn’t, at least not around them.

“Anything for my best customers,” he told them, winking at Emma.

Her eyes flickered nervously away from his, and that was when she saw the newest painting. “All your life you were merely waiting for this moment to be free” it said this time. The work, part painting and part collage, was still dark like the other two, but the light in the right corner was bigger. But the most striking part was that the blackbird was no longer alone, there was now a white bird in the painting as well, and the collage work on it was breathtaking, as if it really had feathers.

“It’s a swan.”

Emma’s gaze swung to meet Killian’s. His eyes were searching her face intently, and suddenly the breath left her lungs. Without another word, she grabbed Henry by the arm and hurried them both from the bookstore.

*******************************************************

Emma hadn’t realized how often they had been going to the bookstore until she suddenly could no longer face its owner. Three weeks had passed, and Henry was now almost daily asking to go to Magical Mystery Books the second she picked him up from school. And every single time, she gave him a flimsy excuse not to.

“What did Killian do?” Henry finally demanded.

“What in the world are you talking about kid?”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Please, Mom. That has to be it. Did he try to kiss you or something?”

Emma almost collided with the car in front of her. “Why the hell would you ask that?”

Henry shrugged. “Because he likes you.”

Emma had no idea what to say as she gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“I wouldn’t mind you know,” Henry finally said. “If you dated him, I mean.”

Emma blinked in shock at her son.

“When did you get so smart?”

He grinned in a way that he definitely picked up from Killian. “When I started hanging out at a bookstore.”

*************************************************

Emma marched into Magical Mystery Books the next morning and headed right to the front counter. Killian was there doing something at the register, and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw her. Whether that was because he hadn’t seen her in over three weeks or because she looked like a woman on some kind of mission, she wasn’t sure.

She crossed her arms over her chest as she scrutinized the painting over his shoulder. The dark background in this one was now littered with stars, the blackbird swooping down through them, straining towards a white swan that floated on a pond with a glittering reflection of the stars upon their surface. Her (she assumed it was a female swan, anyway) neck was bent away from the blackbird. “Into the light of the cold dark night” it said.

“Did you paint those?”

She saw Killian’s adam’s apple bob as if he wasn’t sure if she was asking or beginning an interrogation, but he lifted his gaze to meet hers anyway.

“Aye.”

She nodded. “Okay then.”

He yelped when she yanked him over the counter towards her, and his eyes were still opened when she crashed her lips into his. Soon, however, he was kissing her back, his hand threading her hair, his tongue seeking entrance. She gave it to him, her own hands releasing his shirt front to find their way into his hair. It was hungry and frantic, with teeth clashing and lips bruising. She started to pull back, only to dive in for more again. She was half tempted to scramble over the counter, his kiss so intoxicating it made her want every part of him. Finally, they were both panting, foreheads pressed together.

“That - “ he gasped.

“Would have been a lot better without this stupid counter between us.”

He laughed as he traced her jaw, but then his blue eyes went a shade darker with lust. “Then get over here,” he growled.

In his next painting, the blackbird was floating in the water, the swan’s neck bent over his.

Blackbird fly into the light of the dark black night.

[the-little-prophet]

BDRP Questionnaire 2019

Posting this on Charlie since I actually talked about him quite a bit! Let’s gooooo

Characters: Berlioz, Hades, Kiara, Nala, Andrina, Merida, Charlie, Apollo, John, Su, Ashleigh, Nemo, Jun

Pick one of your characters and talk about their growth (we recommend choosing an older character, but it’s up to you!) What about their story has surprised you? What are you proud of? How have they changed from their original inception to now?

This one goes out to Charlie. I pitched Charlie very deceptively-- claiming he was a prophet, aligning him, at first, with Calliope, making it look like Charlie’s magic was of the classical, Cassandra-inspired kind. But all along, I knew that what I wanted Charlie to be was more of this sci-fi/fantasy blend as an homage to his movie’s sci-fi bend too. This year, I got to actually reveal that Charlie is a time traveler after two years!! This is very exciting for me! I’ve enjoyed being able to lean into Charlie’s new image systems with this reveal, even though I’m out of my depth and breaking like 67 different time travel rules, probably lol. Still, it’s been great to take him to that place, and to invent Future-Charlie as both a deux ex machina and an expression of identity/choice/free will etc etc. I did not have Future-Charlie in mind when I created Charlie, so that was something I was proud of coming up with!

Pick another character and talk a little about where you WANT them to go. What are your plans for them going into the new year?

I’m going to talk about Nemo if only because everyone else feels like a spoiler lol. Nemo, as a relatively new character though, is still full-speed-ahead on his initial goals that I outlined for him in his application. Now that Nemo’s been established in the school and he has this little group of buddies, I want:

To focus on his wing. I want Nemo to push himself, get himself in a spot of trouble, potentially injure himself.

Reveal his wings to at least one mundus friend

Continuing to infuse his posts with body image issues. This is a slow build kind of plot that really is like...the broth of Nemo’s plot-soup, lol, while training for his placement is the chicken and belonging at school is the noodles….it needs to be this throughline more than like, para a, para b, para c. at least for now.

Pick a thread or a plot that you’re proud of and talk about why you loved it.

I could pick a lot of threads here lol it’s honestly so HARD. But I think I want to shout-out to the Charlie/Jim first kiss thread because it surprised even me and Hannah. We initially planned for the first kiss to be just that-- one kiss, then we done, Jim and Charlie go on to be friends. But like in the best of cases, Jim and Charlie’s palpable chemistry actually informed more of Charlie’s arc and opened up avenues previously closed to me/Charlie since Charlie had been so SHUT to the idea of love. So! I really loved that thread. Also because like, I literally made Charlie experience the big bang after his first kiss. And THAT’S the BEST way to use magic in my opinion. Like when you can infuse magic with an emotional catharsis-- I think the other time I did that super well was similar actually, when Herc kissed Kiki’s cheek and she grew a tree in his room lol. So yeah! Some of my best writing in that thread, amazing chemistry, big surprises. It was an absolute pleasure.

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 strengths and talk about why you think it’s one of your strengths.

-Image systems. I dragged myself for this, but I think it’s something that really helps me find a character’s voice and make myself excited to RP them! Also, I think it’s what people like about my writing sometimes. Maybe. IDK, lol. -Complex Emotion: I’m stealing this from my mentor who said I’m good at creating complex emotion and so you know its true. My most introverted characters get the bulk of this naturally--they are introspective and feely and give themselves the space to think and feel. But I really want to try to inject more into my extroverted characters. I think I’m doing well for Nemo, who had undiagnosed anxiety and so that informs a lot of his personality in very interesting-- very OPPOSITE-- ways as Berlioz; Nemo struggles with being alone because ‘alone’ means he gets too in his head. That’s been really fun for me and why he’s quickly become one of my fave voices to write (I know, u all thought it was because I am in love with Jimin (true), but no its bc Nemo is an anxious, big feeling baby and he’s always so Alive to me, plus i was made to write a fairy it was always my destiny.)

In terms of your own writing, identify 1-3 areas of improvement.

-Dialogue: PERSONALLY I feel like I’m not great at dialogue. Some posts are better than others and I think I’m good at like…..texting dialogue? IDK. I feel like I struggle in paras though to craft good dialogue. It’s just, rn, average dialogue. Of course not every post needs to have hilarious, punchy, great dialogue. But do my characters sound different? Am I doing all I can to create rhythm and speech patterns? -Filtering: Im being very picky rn, because actually I don’t do this too much, but I do it enough where I’m like, I gotta go read some really stellar writers adn ban myself from using “Feel” and “think” for like a whole month. What I’m talkinga bout is like: Ber realized/ Ber thought / Ber knew. That kind of writing is totally fine, but that’s about it. I need to come up with more creative ways to talk about feelings and abstract concepts!!!

-Character: I know everyone is probably like………….how dare lauryl put this here. But listen. I don’t think I struggle with character on RP. But outside of RP? Oh boy! The THING about RP is you MUST create a character, that’s your vessel for writing here, and so you do all that development plus u got the four years of worldbuilding informing that character, and literally EVERYTHING CHARACTER DRIVEN ITS...THERE IS NO OTHER WAY.  Outside of RP though I think I have struggled because my natural affinity is worldbuilding and shit like that. I’m type 5 baby, I am attracted to characters who let me poke at things I don’t know anything about, like even Jun, part of it really is like, petitions and grocery store management lmfadsofij. SOOOo idk I just need to be able to focus on crafting characters that are compelling vessels for the cool shit I like to do outside of RP.

Pick one of your plots, or even just a character, and come up with a list of 3-5 “mentor texts” where you can look for inspiration or research, then write a short (2-4 sentences) why you picked those texts. JOHN DARLING BREAKS INTO FAERYLAND 1. Call Down the Hawk/Raven Cycle: It’s no coincidence that my reread of Raven Cycle last winter played a pretty big part in inspiring this new version of John. The descriptions of the magical forest Cabeswater and the hunt for Glendower have the same kind of contemporary fantasy vibe that I really like for John. And of course, Ronan’s dream magic is very much intertwined with the faery realm feeling like a dream (and Ashleigh, obviously, as a dark faery who can manipulate them). More than that though, the attention paid to the psyches of each character and how they drive the plot forward is just… /chefs kiss. 2. The Mabinogian: I want to draw from these classic Welsh/British stories and incorporate them in creative ways! Or just as, like, motifs are something. :) I have tried to do this but would like to be a lot more intentional, instead of just being like lmao let me look up some random shit for this one reply~ 3. The Hazel Wood: This book deals with characters coming into the real world from a book world! This kind of goes along with the Mabinogian as I kind of ish want to do something similar, only treating the Mabinogian as a historical, cultural text as opposed to a fiction. This book also focuses a lot on fairy tale tropes (like numbers) which I really want to incorporate in John’s stuff. I want to ideally write some of my own fairy tales-- I have one in mind actually through Ashleigh but it’s related to John too since he’d the scholar of said stories.  

And now, a wishlist!

-Exploring Nemo’s disability. This is slightly challenging for me since we don’t have many fairies, but I’m brainstorming some ideas and hope to really kick it off in January, leading up to his Talent Placement Test.   -I really want to have a lot of town-centric plots for Jun. Would love to rp with the police officers! I want to have Jun try to get some ppl arrested tbh ahah, like, Fflew for loitering, or maybe reporting Mitte. I would love some arch nemeses tbh-- Mitte does seem like a good one. AND I want to submit at least three petitions next semester!! Maybe i should make that two!! Still!! -Do some Bonfamille plots. I already have something I’m really excited about and have already planned here so this is a teaser… -Keep writing essays. The fairies have been great, getting me really inspired to do these.What’s been an amazing mental exercise, and why I cannot stop writing these, is thinking about how the political philosophy of Pixie Hollow informs how it functions: technically, socioculturally etc. It’s really fun for me to basically build a communist thought project and then enact it for real. I feel like I’m learning a lot about...well, societies, lol, and how the material factors endlessly bleed into, and shape, ideas and beliefs (and vice versa). Also, I literally have to do these because when Nemo is IN the Hollow and I want to write him getting a glass of water, I’m faced with a lot of technical questions: do fairies have running water? Does he have to get it from a stream? How do they keep things cool? Etc etc. And that’s why I go off on these, and I’m excited to keep doing them, as many as I can, with feedback from my fellow fairies. Also, do want to do ones that are NOT fairy related, so we’ll see about that. -Write John backstory. He’s gone on a few other adventures and I’d like to actually one-shot those maybe lol. -Alternate Charlie Timeline: This is something that’s bopping around in my head and I haven’t found the perfect way to make it happen, but I want Charlie to travel to an alternate version of his life and get stuck. When I figure out the right way to do this, my partners will also get to rp alternate versions of their characters lol. That’s fun right!! Of course it is, we do it all the time with AUs, but this one obvi be more personal and more closely tied to canon.

OPTIONAL: Why do you RP? First and foremost, I RP because it’s writing for the sake of writing-- joy for joy. I think this is even more important this year as I’ve had to focus on mentorship writing outside of RP. RP became the place where I didn’t have to think so hard about making everything make sense, lol. It gave my brain a break so I could be less judgmental of myself and just have fun and do the most ridiculous stuff...and some of my fave stuff iS ridiculous because of that...like Nemo and Sindri making flower crowns or the ASC nonsense. It’s this kind of light, fluffy, low-stake (but still High Stake) stuff that provided me endless joy when I needed it the most. Second of all, I RP because I really want to invest in people’s creative energy. I think doing so gives back to myself. Building canon, helping people brainstorm, seeing people grow-- I feel like a proud mom when I get to have this kind of mentorship role myself. I talked to MK about this, but even though Sam left to go off and do greater things, that’s like-- to me, it was a lot like he was graduating from this weird BDRP school I’ve helped create. I felt nothing but pride and happiness for him and really felt like, if BDRP was to explode tomorrow, I ACHIEVED the thing I set out to do when, four years ago, I sat on my computer and drafted BDRP’s mission and vision and committed myself to this admin role. And THAT’S what I want ideally-- for BDRP to be this collaborative place that doesn’t focus too much on what makes sense, on sitewide plots that force people into roles. I have always wanted plots like ASC and John’s search for Excalibur to be able to exist side by side, and I think we’ve done that. Now we just have to tend this garden, don’t we, haha? May BDRP bear many delicious fruit.

[iwillgiveyoumyhappiness]

김재현, Kim Jaehyun

anonymous asked:

Hello can I request a masquerade party themed scenario with NFLYING’s Jaehyun “ your eyes stole all my words away “ I’ll leave the rest to you xD it would be nice if it involves description of the outfits , the place , the dance ... etc

Group: N.Flying (엔플라잉)

Member: Jaehyun

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Your heels clicked across the marble floor, the echo muffled by the other guests. They were everywhere, scattered all around the gold-tinted ballroom, chatting and drinking from crystal champagne flutes. The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling looked like they contained thousands of diamonds, but even more importantly... A story. 

This entire place was story. 

Those chandeliers told the story of how they’d hung there for over ninety years, always being of service to illuminate a ball. The floors told the story of how numerous pairs of feet had glided across them in rhythmic harmony. The small stage in the back told the story of the many musicians that had played music there over the years, including tonight. 

“The Second Waltz,” you hummed to yourself, hearing the short but distinctive introduction. “Dmitri Shostakovich.” A smile spread across your lips, painted a down-toned red. It was less of bold statement, more of a gentle accent. “Good choice.”  

You walked forward, your dress—a red silk that reached farther in the back than the front—billowing behind you in a pool, rippling like water that’d been ever-so-lightly disturbed. Your shoes—strappy and black with expertly placed rose accents—clicked along to your gait, a quiet tap-tap-tap. 

The dress was strapless, revealing your clavicle and shoulders to everyone. On a normal occasion, you wouldn’t wear something like that, but here you were... Unknown and draped in wonders. You wouldn’t remain unknown forever, but just for the time being, it was nice to be like this. 

It was nice to mysterious and beautiful. 

It was nice to be covered with flowing red and elbow-high white lace gloves. It was nice to be hidden by a mask of impressive butterfly wings and it was nice to be showcasing the rubies hanging on your ears and around your neck. 

You felt like someone who could turn heads, but without anyone knowing who you were. You were noticed purely for your intrigue. 

You heard footsteps behind you. 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” you heard. 

You turned in a single smooth motion, the loose parts of your intricately twined hair tickling you cheeks. “Yes?” you said, giving the man behind you a once-over. The music changed to Johann Strauss’s ‘The Vienna Blood Waltz’, seemingly perfect background music for the look of the man.

Judging by the bright smile he was wearing, he was probably a little playful. Maybe a little mischievous. But there was something else there, too. An elegance. Maybe it was his long arms and legs, or maybe it was the quality of his suit.  

He wore a long dark coat that reached the back of his knees, shrouded in gold and silver embroidery. Underneath, there was a simple white dress-shirt and a pair of slacks, tucked into knee-high boots. His hands were hidden by smooth dark blue gloves, having a bit of a sheen to them in the low-light of the ballroom. 

Although, you would argue that the best part of the whole thing was his mask. Most men would be afraid to have something lace on their face—afraid of endangering their masculinity—but he seemed more secure than that, a multicolored flare brought to the whole thing. 

There wasn’t anything particularly special about the mask itself. The highlight was his eyes.

Yes... His eyes were what changed the quality of his appearance. Not his suit, you decided. There was something inside of them. An adventure, a promise, innocent fascination and a childish wonder. 

“Is there something I can help you with?” you asked. 

He shrugged. “Not really,” he said. “I just wanted to say ‘hi’.”

You chuckled and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Well, sir, you have.” 

“I guess I have,” he said. “I should find more excuses to talk to you.” 

You laughed at the statement. “You’re kidding, right?” 

He shook his head, still smiling. “Not at all, miss. What brings you to this charity ball?” he asked. 

You gave him a coyly cryptic look. “Charity,” you said simply. “Isn’t that what we’re all here for?” 

There was a spark in his gaze, like he sensed your challenge. He was fully willing to accept it; willing to play your game. “Yes, I suppose we are.” Without much thought, you both made your way across the ballroom, walking side-by-side while still retaining a respectful distance. 

The song changed once more. This time it was Eugan Doga’s Gramofon.

The mystery man stopped walking and held out his hand. “Dance with me?” he questioned. 

Wordlessly, and with a small smile on your lips, you accepted. You took that hand, covered so curiously in rich fabric.  

When you made it the center of the room, illuminated directly by the light from the largest crystal chandelier, that’s when you began. Your left hand went to rest on his shoulder, your right hand staying in his. His hand went to your waist, holding gentle, yet firm. 

He took a step forward, you took a step back. A perfect carousel-like harmony, gliding across the marble with a simple one-two-three, one-two-three, hitting the down beats with a certain amount of stylish gusto. 

The other dancers around you faded away. In this moment, this waltz was the only thing that mattered. Even if it made you uneasy, afraid to mess up, you still felt like this moment was something to cherish, though you didn’t know why. Maybe it was the thrill of mingling with a stranger.

“I hear there are supposed to be a lot of celebrities at this event,” the man said. “Would I know you?” he asked as he spun you under his arm. 

“Do you watch the news often?” you asked. 

He shook his head. “I try not to,” he chuckled. 

“Then, no,” you said, “you wouldn’t know me.” You ended your turn a little closer to him than you had been before, sending a shiver down your spine. “Would I know you?” you asked. “Your eyes look familiar.” 

“Do you listen to a lot of rock music?” 

You tried to silence a snort. “No, not particularly.” 

“Then, no,” he said, playfully mimicking your tone, “you wouldn’t know me.” 

There was a short period of time where you just danced, a smooth melding of timing and tasteful style. One-two-three, hold forward. One-two-three, hold back. Hold to the side, hold to the side, fifth position breaks, full box and then turn. 

You felt like you were flying, never having to worry about stepping on his feet or messing up the moves. He was a strong leader, and (as all leaders in a dance should be) his first priority was making you look amazing. Even spin, your dress flared behind you in the most beautiful way. Every hold was filled with expectation rather than dead space. Every time his hand brushed closer to you, he pulled it respectfully back to it’s rightful place. 

It wasn’t a boring dance at all, but you decided that it wasn’t enough. You wanted to keep talking. His voice had grown on you in such a short time. Or maybe it wasn’t that it had grown on you, but more so that you hadn’t heard it enough and you craved more. 

“What do you think of the ball so far?” you asked. 

He hummed a thoughtfully. “A little pretentious, maybe?” 

“Pretentious?” you echoed. “Why do you say that?” 

He shrugged, almost throwing your balance off. “A bunch of celebrities were invited here, right?” You nodded. “Well, celebrities don’t want to be made to feel special.” You waited patiently for the rest of his reasoning. “They want to feel normal,” he said. 

“They love what they do, of course, but they also want a safe environment where they can be themselves and mingle and not care about security, fans or impending doom,” he joked. “This is fun,”—he gave you an almost shy look—”believe me, but I think thing’s would’ve gone just as well if this place had been covered in bean-bag-chairs, Nintendo Switches and chip dip.” 

You nodded slowly, taking a little time to process. “That makes sense, I suppose,” you said. Without realizing, he spun you one last time as the song came to an end. You looked around, slightly dazed. “It’s... over?” you asked. 

He laughed. “Yeah, it is!” He didn’t let go of your hand. “But if you want, we can still talk.” 

You nodded, trying to keep yourself calm. But on the inside, you were truly bursting. “That sounds good,” you said softly. Gently you pulled your hand away from his. Though you would’ve liked to keep holding it, you felt creepy for thinking that. 

With your footsteps in sync, you walked back to the side of the room, blending in like beautiful, shadowy wallflowers. It was a nice hideaway of quietness. 

You talked with each other for a a solid hour and a half, exchanging everything from playful banter to serious discussion and then whether the books or movies were better for Harry Potter. 

“So, in conclusion,” you said, “I think Ron Weasley was much better represented in the books.” You crossed your arms, sure you had made your point. You waited for a reply, but it didn’t come. You looked up at him, only to see him staring you, his chin resting delicately in his palm. You chuckled nervously. “Why did you stop talking?”

He blinked, tearing his gaze away from you with a nervous clear of the throat. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “Your eyes stole all my words away, I guess.”

You smiled. “You know—” You were cut off by the screeching static of a microphone being adjusted. The music slowly died off, drawing everyone’s attention to a podium near the central area. 

A man—a little boring and mousy looking, especially under his plain white mask—stood there, wiping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. He ran a hand through his close-cut salt-and-pepper hair before clearing his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “I would like to start this out by thanking you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to come to the 52nd Annual Seoul Historical Foundation Fundraiser.” 

He took a nervous sip of water from his bottle off to the side. “We’ve relied on people like you for support for years now, and the fact that you still continue to come is beyond humbling.” Finally, he took a deep breath, seeming to calm down a little. “And now, a word from our chairman!” he said, stepping away from the makeshift podium with a certain amount of relief in his eyes. 

You stood up, as if on cue. 

“Where are you going?” the mystery man whispered to you.

You turned around, flashing him a smile. “To work,” you said. You made your way across the floor, people gaping at you as you did. You’d been talking with them and socializing all night and no one suspected or recognized you. You made your way to the podium, a pleased smile on your face.  

You lightly tapped the mic, making sure it was still in working condition. “Now that I know you can all hear me,” you said, “it’s a pleasure to fully and finally meet you!” You saw the mystery man’s jaw drop and you had to hold in a chuckle. “I’m the new chairmen of the Historical Foundation, if case you didn’t gather. I took over from my father just this year, due to his age. But it seems the first event that I’ve prepared is more than a little...” You smirked a little. “Pretentious,” you said. 

You saw the mystery man cover his face in embarrassment. He couldn’t believe he’d said that directly to the chairman and organizer of the event. 

“I’m sorry for that,” you said earnestly. “Someone here tonight brought that to my attention, and I’m grateful for his input. I hope this doesn’t deter you from helping us save beautiful buildings like this,” you said, gesturing to the great hall, “and I hope that—even though I’m clumsy and unsure and new to all of this—that you’ll give me a chance to do better next year.” 

You could feel all the eyes on you, but you didn’t feel nervous. You were finally known... But you would be known for something good. 

“Thank you, and have a wonderful rest of your evening. Donations will be taken up until midnight.” You gave a short bow before applause hit your ears. It shocked you a little, but you tried to play it cool, giving a polite smile and walking off the podium. 

You could see the mystery man watching you as you stepped off, an appreciative smile on his face, still clapping for you with the most fervor out of everyone. 

“Hey, Hyeong-seok,” you said, calling over the mousy man with the salt-and-pepper hair. 

He scrambled over with a clipboard, his handkerchief stick messily out of his breast pocket. “Yes, ma’am?” he said.

“Who’s that man over there?” you asked, gesturing to your mystery dance partner. 

He examined him before giving his clipboard a once-over. “That would be...” He snapped his fingers. “Ah! Kim Jaehyun!” he said. “He’s a drummer from a rock and roll band under FNC Entertainment.” 

You smiled. Suddenly, lots of things made sense. “I like him,” you said simply.

“What, miss?” 

You shrugged. “I like him.” 

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I don’t know about you guys... but I kinda need Jaehyun in that fit I described. Just lowkey. Or I could draw it. I’d be good with that, too.

Anyway, thanks for the request, Anon! It was really beautiful and intricate to write. I hope you enjoyed it a lot, and I hope it met expectations. Or maybe... Exceeded them? We shall see.

Feel free to stop by again!

[hairringtonsteve]

spoiler alert.

(joe keery x reader)

request: oh oh oh! Joe Keery meets Y/N when being interviewed and she's like the camera woman or something and he invites her out on the town with the rest of the older cast and it's drinks and love, you know! And Y/N ends up at Joe's hotel room

summary: of course you and joe would bond over something as dumb as spoiling movies and tv shows you’ve (mostly) already seen to each other. weirdly enough, it also kind of is a massive turn on for joe. huh.

word count: 4, 532

a/n: so there are a lot of spoilers in here, but none for stranger things (go figure). but here are the movies and shows that are: star wars episode v, star wars episode vii, fight club, the handmaid’s tale, game of thrones, the sixth sense, 30 rock, harry potter and the halfblood prince. 

At least once a month, you post a picture of you wearing an all black outfit on Instagram with the caption let’s play a game called production blacks or emo (or a variation of that incredibly worn out joke). When you’re filming a live event, it’s all black, even down to your shoes. You can’t count the number of times that you’ve thrown on black sneakers, only to notice that they’ve got a white stripe down the sides. Which means running around the venue, trying to find some black duct tape or a black Sharpie to color it in.

In your college classes, you can remember multiple professors drilling it into your brain - people behind the camera should be invisible, to blend in with the background so everyone forgets that you’re there. On sets with scripted content, it’s a different story. But for anything else, you’ve got to be background noise. And you’re fine with that. There’s a kind of comfort that comes with being able to just settle into the background and watch the action go on around you.

Which is why it’s so unnerving when he noticed you.

It’s not that actors haven’t talked to you before, it’s just that there’s some kind of unspoken code with most of them. They’re polite, but distant. You’re just running the camera, a person that’s meant to be glanced at but not really looked at. It’s not a rude thing, it’s just how it is.

You’d just gotten off a string of interviews with the cast of a huge blockbuster that was coming out (not to brag, but you did get to meet most of the actors in the new Captain America movie), and you’d gotten used to a quick handshake and a brief hi, how are you? before they move on to the person who’s running the whole thing. It had been a long day, adjusting the camera settings and staving off boredom as you listened to Matt ask similar-sounding questions over and over and over. By some miracle, there was actually a couple of hours in between interviews, but that was mostly due having to switch from the Captain America backdrop to something simple for whatever new Netflix cast was up next. You were fiddling with the camera settings, killing time as you waited around for the girl who was running the lights to finish up.

“Yeah, you’re going to have to adjust that fill light, I guarantee it,” you said, grinning as she shot you a scowl.

“I think I know what I’m doing, Y/N.”

“I’m just saying, I’m pretty sure that this dude is taller than you think. It doesn’t look like it’s going to be high enough.” She shot you another glare, making you laugh at the sight of it. The two of you had worked on enough stuff together, and you knew the exact buttons to push to annoy her, and vice versa.

“You working that event tonight at the Bowl?”  

“Does it look like I’m working the event tonight?” You ask, motioning to your outfit, which was most definitely not production blacks. “The only thing that I’m doing tonight is getting caught up on Game of Thrones and eating leftover pizza.”

“Uh, excuse me, I was told to come in here for a lighting test?” You turned around at the voice, plastering on a quick smile for the actor.

“Right, uh-” You hesitated, glancing down at the chair next to you, littered with papers that Matt had printed off for the interview. You scanned the words for a second before settling on his name. “Joe, right? Just take a seat there. Cassie will finish up with the lighting in a second.”  

It was really hard for you to keep the smug smirk off your face as Joe sat down, the fill light hitting his face a weird way on camera. You waited until he was looking down at his phone to do it, the corners of your lips tugging upwards just enough to convey your message to Cassie.

I fucking told you so.

“So, you watch Game of Thrones?”  You looked from Cassie to the man in front of you, your eyebrows raising in question.

“Huh?”

“You were talking about Game of Thrones when I came in. You watch it?” The confusion was written on your face as you rested your hand against the tripod, fingers tapping against the cool metal.

“Yeah, I do,” you said. The words were coming out slow, your brain more concerned with trying to wrap your mind around his little grin than with understanding his exact words.

“What season are you in?”

“I just finished up the first season.” His eyes widened, mouth opening and you knew exactly what was coming. “I know I’m behind, okay? I get shit for it all the time.”

“How much has been ruined for you?”

“I honestly try not to think about it. Spoilers piss me off. I accidentally found out that Dumbledore died before I finished reading the book, and I ended up crying on the bus. It was terrible.”

“Dude, Dumbledore dies?”

For a second, your heart stopped pounding. A sick feeling settled into your gut. Oh God, you just ruined one of the biggest spoilers in history to this guy. But then his look of dismay turned into that little grin, and you scowled.

“That was low, man.”

“It’s not as low as Kylo Ren running a lightsaber through Han Solo’s chest.” You tried to act annoyed, but it was in vain since you literally could not stop grinning at him. “I assume you knew about that one, then?”

“Yeah. Pretty sure everyone knows about that one by now.”

“That’s true. But did you know that in -”

“Hey, man! Sorry I’m late,” Matt butted in, causing a brief flicker of annoyance to rise up in your chest. You caught Joe giving you a look before he shifted his attention towards Matt, sliding right into professionalism.

“So, he’s cute,” Cassie muttered behind you, making you jump. You blinked at her, a little surprised that she’d somehow managed to fix the fill light and walk behind you, all without you noticing.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure,” you shrugged.

A lot of actors were cute. It was no big deal.

“So you do know that Darth Vader is Luke’s father, right?”

You didn’t even have to turn around from your camera to know who it was.

Spoilers had become a sort of thing between the two of you. You were a freelancer, so a decent amount of media sites hired you to film their stuff. And at some point, Joe’s little, weird, niche sci-fi show thing (his description) had blown up. Which translated into more interviews, but more importantly, more spoilers. Somewhere along the way it had turned into this inside joke between you both.

“Bruce Willis was dead the whole time.” You turned around just in time to see his face as you said it, the corners of his mouth curving into an even wider grin as he ducked his head. He pressed his lips together like he was trying to rein it in.

Belatedly, you realized you were staring at his mouth.

“So you have any plans tonight?” You - reluctantly - dragged your gaze to his eyes, ignoring the little smirk that was planted firmly on his face.

“Nothing but eating an entire jar of Nutella and finishing up Jessica Jones.”

“My God, you are so far behind on TV. Have you even started Breaking Bad?”

“Uh, yeah. Walter White was dead the whole time.”

“Holy shit, do I need to make you a list of shows you need to watch?”

“Probably, yeah.”

There was a pause in the conversation as he looked at you, his smirk fading the longer he didn’t respond. Was he really that upset with your lack of TV watching?

“I could make you that list tonight. Over drinks?”

Oh.

Oh.

“Over drinks?” Internally, you swore at yourself for the way your voice wavered over those two simple syllables.

“Yeah, over drinks. You know, the thing where you go out and drink? With other people?” It was like magic, the way his smirk just appeared once more. “Me, and Dacre and Charlie and Nat are all heading out for drinks. I mean, Natalia can’t drink because she’s underage, but she’ll still hang out.” His smirk started to fade the longer you kept quiet. “So there’s no pressure for you to drink, but uh, I thought I’d just ask because, you know, we’ve known each other for like a year now and I just… You can stop me whenever you like because it’s going to get a lot worse and I’m honestly rambling right now…” he trailed off, offering you a helpless look.

“I’m down with drinks. I kind of just wanted to see where you were going to end up.”

“It would’ve ended up with me crying from embarrassment.”

“Way to ruin the ending for me, asshole.”

“It could’ve been worse. I could’ve told you that Tyler Durden isn’t real and is actually a product of the narrator’s split personality.”

“.... Yeah, I actually haven’t seen that one. It’s Fight Club, right?”

“Oh, fuck.”

It felt like the two of you had passed through, like, twelve friendship stages since you’d seen him earlier that day. Before, all you’d known about him was that he was funny and nice, he was an actor, and his name was Joe. All he’d known about you was that you were funny and nice, you were a camera operator, and that your name was Y/N.

But suddenly, you were getting drinks. And exchanging phone numbers. And texting. And possibly flirting (but according to Cassie and just about anyone that had seen the two of you together, you’d been flirting with each other since you’d first met).

Joe: Here. Everyone else is already inside

You: Pulling up now 👍

Your heart was currently located somewhere within your throat as the Lyft driver pulled up to the curb. It wasn’t hard to find Joe, who was leaning against the building, eyes shifting from left to right before settling on your car. He smiled, soft and small, before straightening up and heading towards the car.

“Thank you!” You said, giving the driver a quick grin and handing him the tip before opening up the car door. Joe was grinning then, offering his hand to you to help you out.

“You look great,” he said, teeth dragging across his lower lip. His voice was softer than it usually was, the look in his eyes warm and bright. Everything about him was making your body tingle with nerves. Your hand rested in his, igniting a warmth that spread down your arm and settled into your whole body as you stepped out of the car.

“Thanks. So do you.” You felt a little awkward, almost stilted. You knew how to react with him in short, teasing bursts. But this was a whole other ballgame, and you were terrified that you were going to strike out.

He didn’t let go of your hand, instead adjusting his so that his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Is this okay?” You looked up at him, and found a little solace in the fact that he looked just as nervous as you felt.

“Yeah, Joe, it’s good.” He gave your hand a quick squeeze as he started forward, leading you inside. You waited a couple of seconds before allowing your word vomit to start. “So this is kind of awkward, right?” Joe let out a loud laugh, causing a couple of people to turn their heads in your direction as the two of you made your way to a table in the back. You’d expected that you’d be grabbing drinks at some fancy place, but instead, it was some little pizza place hidden away on a side street in LA.

“This is really awkward, yeah. I feel like I don’t know what to say, y’know? Like maybe I should’ve asked you out when it’d be just the two of us.”

“You know what we need to do then, right?” Joe just looked down at you, pausing a little before you reached the table. “We drink.”

And drink you did. Charlie kept his down to a single beer, admitting that he was taking pity on Natalia since she couldn’t drink at all. Dacre drank more than you’d ever thought was humanly possible, but Joe kept reminding you that he was Australian, and they can drink infinitely more than Americans ever could. You and Joe, however, were right in between the two extremes. A couple of beers in each, pleasantly tipsy. With each sip, you found yourself leaning against him more and more. His arm rested against the back of your chair, fingertips brushing against your shoulder every so often.

“So, wait. Have you or have you not watched Stranger Things?” Natalia asked you, eyes wide and incredulous.

“I’m getting to it! Do you know how many TV shows I need to watch? Just thinking about it stresses me out!”

“Dacre, hand me a napkin,” Joe ordered, looking up as the waitress passed by them. “Excuse me, miss? Whenever you have a second, could I borrow a pen?” She fished one out of her pocket, giving him a wide grin. “You are a lifesaver, thank you.”

Dacre leaned across the table, watching as Joe started to write.

Shows and Movies That Y/N Needs to Watch Right Fucking Now ASAP

You just ate your pizza as the four castmates started chiming in with show suggestions that were a must for you to watch.

“Oh, have you seen Fight Club?” Dacre asked, mouth full of french fries.

“I haven’t, but I don’t really need to. Joe ruined it for me this morning.”

“KEERY!” Dacre yelled, throwing a couple of french fries in Joe’s direction. “What the hell is wrong with you? Fuckin’ spoilers, man.”

“It’s been out for years! How the hell has she not seen it?”

“It doesn’t matter! It’s like telling someone that Jon Snow isn’t really dead.”

Joe grew quiet as your face went white. Charlie and Nat picked up on it almost immediately, both of them staring wide eyed at the big-mouthed Australian.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Wait, are you not caught up?”

“I’m in the middle of season three.” Dacre was the one whose face went white in that moment, turning a bright red in mere seconds.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, holy shit. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

You didn’t want to, but a quiet chuckle escaped your lips anyway. Dacre looked so remorseful in that moment as he practically tripped over his words, still rambling on in an attempt to really apologize to you.

“It’s fine, Dacre, really. It’s not like you told me something really important, like the fact that Offred ends up pregnant with Nick’s baby.”

“I told you that I was on episode six, are you fucking kidding me?” Dacre exploded, causing Joe to grin wide enough that it looked as though it’d hurt. The table burst into laughter, bolstered by the fact that Dacre was just sitting in his chair sputtering as he shook his head violently.

“That might the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Joe said, as casual as though he was commenting on the weather. But when you looked over to him, his eyes were dark as he watched you. Something dropped in your stomach, and in that span of a second, the pizzeria became stifling.

“Right,” Charlie began, but his voice sounded distant to you. Then again, everything was sounding distant to you, and becoming even more distant the longer you looked at Joe. “On that note, I think we’re going to leave.”

“You ready to head out, then?” Joe’s voice was the only voice that sounded close. You looked over to him, cheeks a little warm as you nodded. It was kind of a blur as everyone settled the check (the only thing that was clear was the fact that Joe was refusing to let you pay) and before you knew it, you and Joe were waving everyone off as the two of you lingered out on the sidewalk.

“So, um, hottest thing you’ve ever seen, huh?” Your words weren’t slurring by any means, but there was still a pleasant fog hovering over your brain, your words falling out of your mouth a little slower than they usually did.

Joe turned to look at you, his head moving in a slow nod. He took a step closer to you, resting a hand on your waist to pull you into him.

“I love Dacre, I do, but you ruining The Handmaid’s Tale for him like that was the single most attractive thing that I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” His lips were on yours right after the single word was spoken. It was warm and lazy, like the two of you had all the time in the world to just kiss each other. It was late out; the sidewalk was mostly empty. It was easier to forget that you weren’t in a more private spot, especially when his tongue swiped along your lower lip. You opened your mouth, deepening the kiss as you wound your arms around his neck. The tension spurred the two of you on, pushing you closer to him as his free hand wound behind you, grabbing your -

“Get a room, Jesus!”

The stranger’s voice sounded from down the street, but it was enough to make you spring away from him. You weren’t sure when your fingers had wound into his hair, but it was looking disheveled all the same, some tufts standing straight up as though he’d just gotten out of bed.

“You want to get out of here?” Joe’s voice was wrecked. It was low and scratchy. His chest was heaving up and down as though he’d been running in a dead sprint. The look he was giving you put images in your head, ones of him pressing you up against a wall and wrapping your legs around his waist as his lips made their home against your neck.

“Absolutely,” you said. Your own voice wasn’t that much better. That single word had come out far more breathless than you’d intended, but the effect it had on Joe made a fire run in your veins, screaming throughout your entire body.

Joe pulled out his phone, fingers trembling as he opened up the app to call an Uber. You were going to make some sort of joke about how he still used Uber when Lyft was so much better, but he glanced to you out of the corner of his eye, and it made your knees a little weak.

It was worse when he put his phone away.

The two of you were standing there, shoulder to shoulder as the driver took his or her good time in getting there. A group of drunken college students had meandered down the street, and as much as you wanted to, making out with Joe once more wasn’t an option.

“How drunk are you right now?” You looked up at him, appreciating the way that the orange streetlights lit his face. He was all soft light and shadows, with an occasional pink hue from a broken, neon sign.

“Maybe slightly tipsy? Sober enough to consent, if that’s what you’re asking.” His eyes were darkening with every passing second.

“Same here.” Your teeth raked across your lower lip, biting down on it. Joe groaned, running his fingers through his hair as he tilted his head back. “You’re going to drive me insane.”

The Uber pulled up right in front of you. Joe rested his hand against the small of your back, guiding you to the car.

The car ride was torture. It was a sweet kind of torture, but torture nonetheless. Joe kept his hand on your thigh the entire time, trying time after time to inch it up, only to be stopped by your glare. Every time he was caught, he’d shoot you this dark little smirk that sent heat right down your spine.

There was no doubt in your mind that if you let him continue, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself. The poor driver didn’t deserve to deal with that.

It was a little embarrassing just how fast you made it out of the Uber the second it was in park. You practically leaped out of the car, eager to try and get a handle on yourself. But you really couldn’t. All you could feel was the ghost of his hand gripping your thigh, or his lips against yours, nothing but need. Hell, it took you a full twenty seconds to realize that you were at a hotel.

“You okay?” It was as though he’d appeared out of thin air, made of nothing but attraction and a little bit of concern. Your hand reached out and took hold of his.

“I’m great.”

It would have been a miracle if the two of you could have made it up to his room before you leapt at each other. Thankfully, it was a little past one in the morning, which meant that the elevator was empty.

The second the doors dinged shut, Joe had you crowded into the corner. This time it was different. It was hard to tell where you ended and he began. With every move of his lips you were dissolving into him. You nipped at his lower lip, gentle as you tugged on it. A low groan emanated from his throat as he pressed against you.

It was hard to tell whether Joe was taking something from you or giving it to you. All you knew was that you felt like rushing water, shifting and moving and responding to every move that he took.

Far away, you could hear the opening of the elevator doors. It almost physically hurt to pry yourself away from him, but suddenly, you needed to get into that room of his. Joe blinked down at you, mirroring your exact expression.

“I…” He breathed out that lonesome letter, the look on his face telling you all that you needed to know. You took his hand and lead him out of the elevator, pausing as you waited for him to speak. “Lead the way,” he said, dazed.

“I don’t know what room it is.”

Joe stared down at you for a moment longer, the dazed look in his eyes fading until he realized what you’d just said. A furious blush attacked his cheeks as he led you down the hall. His thumb kept rubbing distracting circles into your skin.

It took a little longer for the two of you to make it to his room. Once, because he’d glanced back to you and caught sight of your lip between your teeth, which had ended up with your back against the wall, his lips against yours as he muttered something about biting that lip for you.

The bigger reason, however, was the fact that once your party of two had reached his room, his hands had been shaking so hard as he tried to put the key card into the slot. Apparently, it was hard for him to concentrate when you were pressing kiss after kiss against his jaw, fingers hooked around his belt loops to draw him closer to you.

“Y/N, I just - I - C’mon, I can’t - Yes.”

Just like that, he’d managed to unlock the door, practically shoving you through it and then promptly apologizing. You stepped into the room, taking it all in. It was an average hotel room, littered with a couple of shirts on the ground, and two PlayStation 4 controllers setting on top of the mini fridge. He flipped on a light, the room illuminated enough to make everything nice and soft.

A bout of nerves filled your chest as you glanced over to him. This was Joe, the guy that you’d been denying that you had a crush on for almost a year. This was the guy that had made you look forward to filming some interviews, who had popped in and out of your life ever since you’d first met.

You liked Joe.  A lot. A hell of a lot.

He was staring at you, patient as he waited for you to say something. There was a small smile lingering on his lips as he watched you, and it caused a kaleidoscope of butterflies to flutter in your stomach. He started to walk towards you, eyes focused on yours as your pulse quickened.

“You look a little terrified, which is kinda weird, since twenty seconds ago you were kissing me like your life depended on it,” he teased, his words gentle as he reached for you. You let him circle his arms around your waist, loose enough for you to pull away if you wanted to.

“I just, I like you, alright? I don’t want to mess anything up. Or give you the wrong impression.”

“The impression that I got was that you like me as much as I like you, and we’re going to be hanging out a lot more together, and that this isn’t casual at all for either of us.” The relief flooded through you, washing away any doubts that had sunk their teeth into your mind. “Am I close?”

“Spot on, actually.”

“Would it make you feel better if we just hang out, maybe watched some TV and made out a lot?”

“Are you proposing that we… Netflix and chill?”

Joe laughed, his head dropping against yours as he grinned. His laughter devolved into snickers as he looked down at you.

“Essentially, I guess so. It’s catchier than saying let’s watch Parks and Rec and make out a ton during it.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, followed by one to your cheek. “You have seen Parks and Rec, right? Because if you haven’t, we can’t make out during it. You need to see it.”

“I’ll… I’ll get to it, okay! Don’t judge me!” Joe tugged you towards the bed, falling down onto it and pulling you down with him.

“What the hell have you seen? Because I really want to make out with you.”

“30 Rock.”

“I haven’t finished it yet, though.”

“Have you gotten to the part where Liz and Jack get married?” Joe turned onto his side so he could get a better look at you. You just grinned up at him, the laughter bubbling up out of you like a spring.

“Don’t start with me,” he warned. His words were low, but they were belied by the grin that he just couldn’t get rid of.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it, hmmm, Keery?” He leaned down, swinging his leg over you and resting a hand on either side of your head to hold himself up. His lips hovered just above yours as he smirked. His mouth brushed against yours, hot and open as you stared up at him.

“I can think of a few things.”

taglist: @allfandomxreader @myblackwings5 @morgandakotaq @rivedale @laterg8r @buckybass @alwaysmebeforeyou @istanuriss

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 10)

Description: Alodia learns a thing or two about her new past, and Jake faces some uncomfortable questions. 

Tagging: @xo-endlessmayhem-xo , @princesstopgun

Chapter Ten : A California Interlude

Alodia

Far sooner than I would like them to, Raj, Quinn, Estela, and Mike drift back to their lives. At least I still have Jake and Diego, even if Diego opts to stay with his family. I don't blame him. Both our families can be a lot to handle, and with a delicate situation like this, it is probably better to let us each manage one side. Poor Jake is not having an easy time of it with either set of guardians. He has it slightly easier with Diego's parents, but his mother is still inclined to criticize him. We've tried to assure him that Diego's mother has criticized every boyfriend I have ever had—and probably would have criticized my girlfriends too, if she had ever been able to wrap her mind around the idea of me having a romantic or sexual attachment to another woman. But maybe that's why it was easier for me to come out to them than it was for Diego. I learned to live with the fact that she would criticize every boyfriend and treat every girlfriend as if she were just a new close friend or a phase I was going through. It must have frustrated her that I seemed to keep relapsing just when she thought I was back into boys for good. Maybe in that sense, Jake is a relief to her.  

For Diego, it was more difficult. He never had a girlfriend his parents could reassure themselves with. For awhile, they latched onto the idea that he and I would fall into each other's arms once our hormones hit, or we turned around and had one of those chick-flick moments where we realized that true love had been there all along. He and I did actually try kissing once when we were twelve, but it felt weird and neither of us liked it. I still played his beard on and off, but even if we fooled the rest of the world, his parents eventually started to understand that we were like brother and sister. Even if we were both straight, I doubt we ever could have seen each other that way. With that illusion shattered, I suppose it was only a matter of time before they couldn't ignore the fact that their son was gay any longer.

Diego has been out to his family since sophomore year at Hartfeld, but it's strange to think of them breaking bread with him and letting him sleep under their roof now. Since coming out, he always spent vacations with my family, who for all I could say against them have at least never batted an eye at people for their sexuality or gender identity. ...I don't like to think about how he managed things in the timeline where I didn't exist. I'm trying not to think about that timeline at all. I'm just glad his family is getting back on track. ...Maybe it helps that he can't introduce his husband to them for reasons besides his sexuality still being a touchy subject. I suppose it is easier for his parents to accept him as a free-spirited bachelor than a man married to another man, even if the other man in question were not a hyper-evolved human with blue skin.

On this particular afternoon about five days after my return to Riverside, my aunt and uncle are at work, and expected to be late. Jake and I have passed a lazy morning in each other's company, one that puts me in mind of the life he described us sharing the night of our handfasting. We stay in bed fooling around a little too late, eat a simple breakfast together, and linger over our coffee before heading out to the terrace to stretch out in the sunshine. At some point, the housekeeper arrives. It has not taken me long to realize that she doesn't like having me or Jake around while she's cleaning, so it's a blessing to us all when Diego calls and offers to take us downtown for lunch.

He's driving a white Mercedes-Benz when he pulls up to the gate. I know it's a rental since he told me he didn't want to buy a car until he had a place to live, but I still can't help being a little impressed and proud.

“Look at you, with your fancy-ass car,” I tease as Jake and I climb in. “Those book royalties really are treating you right.”

He grins sheepishly. “Well, yeah. And maybe I like to show it off a little.”

“Hell, you deserve it, Short Stuff,” Jake declares. “You wrote a good book.”

“So, what are you guys in the mood for lunch-wise?”

“Burgers,” I reply without hesitation. “Burgers and fries and something carbonated to drink.”

Jake shrugs. “Works for me.”

Diego laughs. “All right, folks. Well, we're in California, so let's do this right!”

Not long afterwards, the three of us are sitting in a booth at In-N-Out, savoring burgers, fries, sodas, and milkshakes.

“Hey, Allie?”

I look up at Diego, mumbling, “Yes?” around a mouthful of meat, bun, and fixings.

“If it's none of my business, you can tell me to buzz off, but...I was wondering. The other day when my mom showed up and your aunt dragged you into the library...what did she say to you?” When I freeze mid-chew, he hastily adds, “I mean, I'm just asking because you seemed upset, but you never said anything else...”

I finish chewing and swallow. “...She...didn't say much, actually. It seemed like once she had me in there, she forgot why she'd wanted me there in the first place. ...She did ask my why I called your mother Mama.”

“...You've always called her Mama, haven't you?”

“That's what I said. At which point Aunt Molly just kinda blinked at me and muttered something about my real mother. I told her I never even knew my real mother...”

“Wait, was she trying to say that calling the woman they hired to raise you 'Mama' is somehow disrespectful to the mother who died when you were too young to know her?” Jake asks. I shrug.

“I guess. ...It never bothered her before, though. Or if it did, she never let on.” I frown. “There was...one thing she said that kinda stood out, though. Something about how my parents tried so hard to have me...”

“They had trouble getting pregnant?”

“I guess. Unless she means that they adopted me...”

“I don't think that's likely,” Jake remarks. “Given how much you look like your aunt, that would be a hell of a coincidence if you weren't biologically related.”

“In some sense, I'm not,” I reply before I can stop myself. A moment of awkward silence descends over the table. I clear my throat. “I noticed the dance studio on the way over here. The one I used to dance at?”

“Right. I remember.”

“I was thinking I might take a few classes there to keep myself busy. And possibly go back into the Trainee program. That's where they have older students acting as teachers assistants for the younger classes. I did it back when I was a teenager,” I explain for Jake's benefit. “I know I'm older than Trainees usually are, but I've been thinking that in time I might like to teach dance. You know, for money. This might be a good way to get my foot in the door.”

“If that's what you want to do, that sounds great,” Jake says. “I should probably get off my ass and start looking for work myself. Your folks aren't gonna be as lenient with me as they are with you.”

I chuckle. My eyes wander lazily over the In-N-Out's patrons, then stop on one young woman, heading out the door. My heart leaps to my throat, and I stand up sharply.

“Hey!” Jake takes my hand, looking up at me with concern. “You okay, Princess?”

I stare at the spot where the woman had been standing. In my mind, I can still see her. Slim and athletic. Doe-brown skin. Dark hair pulled tight in a ponytail, but I can only imagine it short, cropped close to her neck...

I slowly sit back down. “I...I'm fine. There was just someone here who...looked...like...”

“...Like who...?” Diego asks.

I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should tell them. My knee-jerk reaction is to play it off, hide it like I always did on the island whenever something happened that scared me. But no. I'm not on the island anymore.

“She looked like Lila. I'm sure it was a coincidence.” They both relax a little.

“Probably was,” Diego agrees. “Even if she was alive, I don't know what Lila would be doing in an In-N-Out in Riverside.”

“She didn't exactly seem like the burger-and-fries type,” Jake adds.

That actually makes me laugh. “You know, I never really thought about it, but you're actually right. It's really hard to imagine Lila chowing down on a burger.” I pick up another french fry and cram it into my mouth. “So, Diego, what's the class you're teaching in the fall?”

* * *

That evening, Jake and I sprawl out on the couch to watch an action movie after dinner. Something with explosions, a plot that's easy to follow and a romance that's been shoved in as an afterthought. It's in the midst of a high-speed car chase that Aunt Molly comes home. Uncle Rob is not far behind her. They pop in briefly to ask if we want dinner, but when we decline, they mostly leave us on our own for the rest of the evening. After the movie ends, though, the silence in the den brings them in.

“Would you two care to join us on the terrace for grasshoppers?” Aunt Molly asks. “There's something we'd like to discuss with you.”

Her words give me a lump in the pit of my stomach, but I don't really feel like I can refuse. I glance at Jake, who seems to feel the same.

“Yeah...sure...”

A few minutes later, we're all in lounge chairs on the terrace, lit by the outdoor lights and the lights from the pool, sipping on grasshopper ice cream cocktails. They're a perfect blend of sweet and alcoholic burn, and I sip mine slowly, savoring it.

“I gotta say, I ain't usually one for cocktails, but this is damn good,” Jake remarks.

“I'm glad you like it,” Aunt Molly says politely. “Alodia...I was wondering if you've thought at all about going back to school and finishing your degree?”

The question makes me pause. “You know...I hadn't...really considered the fact that I technically didn't finish.”

“There's no need to rush into the decision. It's just that you were doing so well at Hartfeld, and it's only been five years. It may be possible that your completed credits will still transfer if you decide to finish at a community college here. I don't know what work might be available for a history major specifically, but just having the completed degree will surely give you a boost.”

“That...may be true. I will definitely think about it.”

“...Your uncle and I had a lot of plans for your graduation. We wanted to make a big showy fuss to show you how proud we were. We have no doubt that you would have completed college when you were meant to if you hadn't gone through that nightmare. And now that you're back...we realize that an elaborate party might be a little much for you right now, but we'd had a few other treats in mind and we hope you will allow us to indulge you.”

Well, that doesn't sound too bad. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, altering our plans slightly to include your boyfriend, here's what we were thinking: I'm off next Friday. I thought I could take you to get some official things taken care of, Alodia. Renewing your driver's license, transferring your trust fund, doing some shopping, that sort of thing. Then, we drive up to Los Angeles to meet Uncle Rob and spend the weekend up there. We could stay in a nice resort, and on Saturday, you and I could have a spa day like we used to when you were a teenager. Massages, facials, wraps, mani-pedis...the whole nine yards. Followed by a nice dinner for the four of us.”

“And while our girls are getting pampered,” Uncle Rob adds, looking at Jake. “You and I can play a couple rounds of golf.”

Jake looks for a moment like a deer caught in headlights. He clears his throat. “Uh...sir, I ain't never played golf in my life. ...Except mini-golf.”

“Oh, that's all right, I'll teach you. No one will judge you if you end up over par.”

“You ain't worried I'm gonna break a window on someone's Rolls-Royce?”

He laughs. “There is a reason the course is a decent hike from where the cars are parked. Don't worry, they take all possible precautions.”

“Well...I guess fortune favors the bold.” He still sounds a little uncertain, but I'm glad he doesn't look totally panicked.

“Then it's settled,” Aunt Molly says.

“But can we get reservations for everything on such short notice?”

“Oh, don't you worry about that. We'll take care of everything. Promise.”

* * *

A week from Friday, after taking care of my driver's license and my trust fund, Aunt Molly insists on taking me shopping for new clothes for our weekend in L.A. She insists that after five years, I need a new wardrobe anyway. I could try to explain to her that my body hasn't aged. The official story that I was sealed in a stasis tube would support that statement. But I know it's not really about what I need. She wants to spoil me, and I suppose I should let her, even if it feels strange. I half-heartedly examine mannequins in everything from shorts and fitted T-shirts to sparkly evening gowns, knowing I'm inevitably going to walk away with half the store crammed into four or five bags.

I might be a little more into the indulgence if there wasn't a half-formed memory that had been  tugging at my mind since we were at the DMV. Renewing my driver's license was a simple process, since I had apparently been licensed before my disappearance. But that sent my thoughts tumbling into an entirely new rabbit hole when I realized that to acquire a license or a passport or anything like that, I would have had to present a birth certificate at some point. And just like that, I remembered pulling the weathered page out of a lockbox where my aunt and uncle kept all my important official paperwork. I could picture it in my hand, fragile and brown, and oddly smooth and shiny. And across the top of the page, in overly elegant script, the words Consular Report of Birth Abroad stand out in my memory.

“Hey...Aunt Molly...what you were saying the other day, about my mom and dad trying so hard to have me...what did you mean?”

“Oh, they had a terrible time trying to get pregnant, that's all. Thankfully, the problem was in your mother's fallopian tubes, not her ovaries or uterus, or your father's sperm, and IVF worked a treat. Got you on their first try that way.”

“...Where was I born?”

Aunt Molly pauses, her hand on a glittery red evening gown, and frowns at me. “...Don't you remember?”

“Remember my own birth?” I quip. “Not likely.”

“No, I mean...I've told you the story before, haven't I? I'm sure you asked me when you saw your CRBA certificate...”

“I...don't remember,” I confess feebly.

“Your parents were on a cruise in the Caribbean, touring the Greater Antilles and escaping the cold in New York. Cassie was only thirty-four weeks gone, so they weren't really expecting anything to happen before they got back, but I guess you were eager, because her water broke just before midnight during the New Year's Party on deck. The ship was anchored somewhere between Kingston and Santo Domingo, and they had to rush to the nearest port. The whole thing was over within five hours.”

“Was I born at sea?”

“Well, you were definitely born on the ship. Your mother was never sure if they made it to port on one of the smaller islands or not. Either way, they had to go to the American embassy in the Dominican Republic to get you a CRBA certificate so you'd be recognized as an American citizen.”

“Oh.”

I don't know if my aunt has made the connection. If she paid attention when I won that trip back in college to where I was heading, if it ever occurred to her to look at a map of the Caribbean, or if it ever crossed her mind to muse about it. I don't ask. And I don't tell her what has quickly become obvious to me: that the cruise ship my mother and father were on had indeed made it to port. Even in this timeline, where I have my own life and my own existence outside its influence, I was born on La Huerta.

* * *

They surround me and my friends as we press together, bound and on our knees somewhere in the jungle. Their skin gleams vibrant shades of blue and green, tattoos curling over their glistening bodies. Watchers. Hostiles. Or whatever it is they call themselves. They bark at us in a fearsome, guttural tongue, thrusting spears and knives in our direction.

The sea of green and blue humanoid bodies parts, revealing two blue-skinned males, one stooped and wrinkled, one young and strong, more than six feet of pure, sculpted muscle. I know the latter. He is their leader. The one who wore the lion mask. Who touched my forehead and broke the barrier between us so that we could communicate. Who led the attack on The Celestial. Who took my best friend from me. All fear is washed away by a cold, desperate anger. I draw myself up on my knees and capture his gaze with mine, glaring.

“Where is my friend?”

To my surprise, the Watcher's eyes soften as they take in the sight of me. “You are Alodia. ...The one who was a child with Diego. Who is like his sister.”

“Yes. I am. Where is my brother?”

There is something in the Watcher's gaze that makes me feel cold all over. Something like...pity. Sorrow.

“I will take you to him.”

“Varyyn...” The old man speaks in his native tongue, but somehow I understand him. “Your mother has requested that the Catalysts be brought before her immediately.”

“This one is very special to Canis. I must take her to him.”

“And what am I to tell your mother?”

“Tell her that I believe seeing his sister again may give Diego strength. Unless you believe Raan'losti can be averted with only eleven Catalysts.”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Dread is growing in the pit of my stomach as my mind races towards understanding. “What do you mean 'give him strength'? What's wrong?!”

“Come. I will take you to him.” Before I can ask any more questions, he has cut my bonds and pulled me to my feet. My friends, only understanding half the conversation, immediately begin shouting in protest, struggling even as amber speartips press closer to their flesh.  

“Princess!” Jake cries.

“Take your hands off her!” Sean snarls.

“Where she goes, we go!” Raj adds. “Or else no one goes anywhere!”

“Wait!” I cry. “He's taking me to Diego!”

“Then tell him to take us with you!” There is desperation and fear in Jake's eyes. “Don't let him take you alone, Princess! Please!”

“You can't trust him!” Estela adds.

“You need someone to watch your back!” Craig agrees.

The Watcher—Varyyn—keeps a grip on my arm. I look back up at him. “...They're afraid,” I try to explain. “They think you're going to hurt me. They want you to let a few of them come with me.”

“I know,” he answers in English. Surprise goes through me like a mild electric shock, but it's overpowered by fear for Diego. He looks over my friends. Slowly he points to Jake. Then to Sean. Then...to Michelle. In his native tongue, he says, “Lupus, Aquila, and Pavo. Cut their bonds and have them follow me.”

The warriors obey. Jake rushes to take my hand. I grip his as we follow the Watcher into the village. He leads us into a quiet hut where a small fire is burning. My heart drops into my gut.

Diego, his hair grown to his shoulders and a six-month-old beard on his ashen face, lies curled in a hammock, shivering under a blanket. His cheeks are high with feverish color. Sweat glistens on his forehead. His breathing is shallow and labored, ragged as if the act of pulling in air is painful.

“Diego!” I drop Jake's hand to run to my brother's side and find his. His grip is limp in mine as I gently push sweaty strands of hair off his hot forehead. His eyes flutter.

“A-Allie...?” he croaks feebly.

“It's me,” I assure him, even as I hear my voice trembling. “It's me. I'm here. It's okay, I'm here. Everything's going to be okay.”

I don't know if Varyyn understood what he was doing when he let Michelle come with us, but I don't question it now. I look desperately at her, silently pleading with her to fix this. Make him better. She is already at his other side, feeling his pulse, laying the back of her hand to his forehead. She is frowning as she puts her ear to his chest to listen to his lungs. She rises, looking at Varyyn.

“How long has he been like this?”

“Nearly two weeks,” Varyyn answers softly. “We have tried everything we know. But I am afraid this is beyond our experience.”

“...Pneumonia is beyond your experience?” she asks incredulously.

“I...do not know that word...”

“Inflammation of the small air sacs in the lungs. It's why his breath sounds so ragged.”

“...I have never heard anyone breath that way who did not show...in...injury...” he replies, his voice a whisper. I bite my lip, trying to hold back a sob as I stroke Diego's cheek with a trembling hand. Michelle purses her lips.

“Show me what you've been treating him with. If he's been like this for two weeks, things are unfortunately very, very serious.” She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don't give up yet, though. I'm not going to let him die.”

I smile feebly at her, but when I look back down at my best friend, I feel my heart sinking. Michelle won't stop trying to save him. Not until he dies. ...But I have a terrible feeling he is already past hope...

Jake

In the darkened bedroom of a luxury suite at a Los Angeles resort, I find myself roused from sleep. At first, I'm not sure what's got me up. Then, in the darkness, I start to make out the sound of soft sobbing. Alodia's voice is muffled, like she's crying into her pillow, but the sound is unmistakeable, and she sounds like her heart is breaking. Still bleary, I roll over and put an arm over her, drawing her close. She curls into me, weeping brokenly.

“I'm here,” I murmur into her hair. “I'm right here.”

She tightens her grip, fingertips digging into my back. Her face presses into my shoulder. She makes a noise that sounds like an attempt at speech, but her words are garbled with tears.

“...You wanna tell me what's wrong?” I ask gently. She nods, but she doesn't speak until I ask, “Was it a bad dream?”

She nods again, this time whimpering, “...It was Diego...”  

“He's okay. He's alive and well, and he's in Riverside.”

“...In my dream, he was in Elyys'tel...it was just after we jumped six months ahead.”

“What happened to him.”

“He was sick. Pneumonia, Michelle said. Apparently, he'd been sick for a few weeks...”

“We couldn't save him with the Island's Heart like we did for Quinn?”

“I don't think so. Not in that timeline. Varyyn wasn't elyyshar yet. I don't think he felt brave enough to demand that Uqzhaal tell him about it. Besides, the Catalysts as a whole didn't have the rapport with the Vaanti yet that we had when we used the Heart to save Quinn.”

There's not much I can say to that. I just hold her against me, stroking her hair. Finally, I say, “It's over. Everything we went through on that island is over. The cycle is broken, Vaanu is free, and you're home safe with me.”

She sighs, nestling into me. “I just wish we weren't in an L.A. resort with my aunt and uncle in a suite down the hall. That whole nightmare began in a luxury resort.” She whines a little. “God, Jake, I wish I hadn't agreed to this weekend...”

“Really? All things considered, it seems pretty generous of your folks...”

“Yeah, but it's their kind of generous, which means it's showy and expensive, and whatever this surprise is on Sunday, it's also going to be showy and expensive...and it was one thing when I was a kid and I was dependent on them, but taking their money now...that trust fund and everything...I haven't earned any of it...”

“Are you worried someone is gonna think you're spoiled? That you've had everything handed to you on a silver platter?”

“Well...yes.”

“And whose opinion is it you're concerned about?”

“...I...” she trails off. “...I don't know...”

“Mine?”

“...No...”

“Diego? Sean? Estela? Quinn?”

“No, not any of you...”

I kiss the top of her head. “Your family knows you're not spoiled. In fact, Princess, as far as I'm concerned, anything your folks give you, you more than deserve it. You gave up your existence to save the goddamned world. If your folks want to give you a luxury weekend in L.A., fucking let 'em. If they wanna give you a car, fucking let 'em. If they wanna give you a trust fund so that you always have a financial safety net, keep it. You took care of us and the whole world. Let the world take care of you for awhile.”

“...Raj said something similar.”

“Raj is smart. You should listen to him.”

She lets out a short laugh. “Yeah...I should, I guess. But I don't want the world to take care of me forever.”

“It won't be forever. Just long enough that you can figure out what to do with your second chance. And as long as you want me to be a part of it, I'll be here.”

“I always want you here, Top Gun,” she replies affectionately. I roll onto my back to draw her to my side. She lays her head on my chest. “...Hey...Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“...Do you think it's really over?”

“Is what over?”

“...The island. Everything La Huerta did to us. The two-thousand one-hundred thirty-nine loops. The Endless, the Island's Heart, Vaanu. ...Are we really free from that?”

I want with all my heart to tell her yes. Of course we are. But how can I tell her that when there's a time crystal running rampant somewhere on the east coast? Truth is, I don't think it is over, not by a long shot. And while I'm less scared of her disappearing again than I was when she first came back, I am still fucking terrified that this whole Prism Gate thing is going to end up hurting her somehow.

“...I don't know, Princess. I really don't. I hope like hell we are. ...But all I can promise is that if we're not, I ain't gonna let anyone hurt you. And neither are any of the others.”

“I think I'm going to need protection if it comes to it,” she admits. “I don't have any of the Endless' powers anymore.”

“Hey, maybe you can't time travel, but you're still a badass.” I tap her nose lovingly, and she snorts. “I mean it. Everything the Endless was and could have been is still in you, and that ain't changing. Now what's say we get a little sleep? I gotta get up early so your uncle can probably kick my ass at golf.”

* * *

At six in the morning, Alodia and I drag ourselves out of bed. We resist the urge to shower together, knowing that we'll just end up late for breakfast, stumble into our clothes, and shuffle into the elevator. After hitting the breakfast buffet with her folks, we reluctantly part for the day. She goes with her aunt, and I follow Rob to his car. From there, things get kinda surreal, honestly. When we reach the course, I'm introduced to Fred and Leon, who have been enlisted to complete our foursome. I am introduced as the boyfriend of Rob's niece. They both know who his niece is. They both know that she's been found. They're both a little mystified that she “already” has a boyfriend, and can't decide which of us is the one rushing into things.

As we made our way to Elyys'tel a few weeks ago, Alodia told us about when we made that journey with Rourke and getting trapped in a time loop of approximately twenty minutes. She was the only one aware of it. She described how every time, something subtle changed, and she had to learn from each loop until she found the source of the disturbance and destroyed it. As I play golf with Robert Fisher and his two friends, I start to feel like I can empathize. Rob takes his turn first, then me, then Fred and Leon. During Rob's turn, Fred and Leon make small talk in soft voices, trying to figure me out. They ask their questions, and I answer.

“How did you meet Alodia, Jake?”

“...We were on La Huerta together. I was the pilot who flew her and the others from Costa Rica, and I got stranded there with them.”

“You're up, Jake!”

I take my turn, end up well over par, and slink back to my spot, where the older men have been muttering. While Fred and Leon take their turns, Rob eyes me quietly. Then it all begins again on the next hole. The questions...

“So you're a pilot, huh?”

“Well, not so much anymore, but yeah. Used to be a fighter pilot in the navy. Then I got discharged and flew commercially for awhile. But I was working as a bartender when Alodia turned up again.”

… and then I take my turn, ending up well over par. It all goes on for more than four hours. But finally, Rob and I break off from his friends and head into the clubhouse for lunch. The whole place oozes an old-fashioned sort of masculinity, not necessarily toxic, but it kinda reminds me of the naval academy in a way that isn't always good. The navy can turn out guys like Mike, but it can also turn out assholes like Lundgren—and women like Jeanine, who throw their lot in with assholes like Lundgren out of a thirst to prove themselves, desperation to survive among the male recruits, a genuine lust for power, or some combination of those. Still, this place has beer and sandwiches, and I could use a couple of each after what I just went through. We wolf down sandwiches and Rob orders another round of beers.

“Not bad for your first try,” he says generously.

“Suspect that's a lie, but I appreciate it.”

“Well. Now that we're in slightly more private surroundings, I was hoping you and I could discuss a few things, man-to-man.”

I should have guessed something like this was coming. “Let me guess. You're wondering about my 'intentions towards your niece'.”

Rob barely bats an eye. “Something like that, yes.”

“You do know she's an adult, right?” I probably shouldn't act so cocky, but I don't have it in me to play humble and deferent to this guy when that would mean playing into this bullshit notion of Alodia as some delicate, naive flower. She fought a fucking hydra for fuck's sake.

“Even adults can be taken in sometimes,” he replies.

“I don't think you have to worry about that with Alodia. She can smell bullshit a mile away.”

“Nonetheless, perhaps you can reassure me.”

I take a deep swallow from my second beer. “Fine. My 'intentions' are to be with her and love her as long as she lets me. To be her partner in life. To be her friend and her lover.”

“You speak very romantically for only having known her for six months.”

“When you know, you know,” I reply, shrugging. I finish off my mug.

“...Another round? We don't have to meet the ladies for at least another four hours. And worst case scenario, we'll get a car to the restaurant.”

“Yeah, sure.” I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't. I have a bad feeling he's trying to get me drunk so I'll give something away, like my intention to marry Alodia for her money, then murder her and flee back to Costa Rica. And I'm a little worried I'll end up blurting out just that in a moment of drunken frustration and he or someone else in this uptight purgatory will take me semi-seriously. But I accept a third mug, trying to nurse it a little.

“I didn't know for sure that Molly was the one for me until we'd been dating for three years.”

“Yeah, well, if you'd been in a situation like what the twelve of us went through, you probably would've known sooner. Being held prisoner by a lunatic criminal tends to make feelings clear pretty damn quick.”

“Still, it's been five years. Have you had another girlfriend in all that time?”

“A couple. Couple boyfriends, too,” I say pointedly. Alodia's told me her aunt and uncle are aware of and fully support her own sexual orientation, so I doubt they'll be put off by mine, but I want to lay as many of my cards on the table as possible so they don't have anything to use against me later.

“None of them lasted?”

“You must know what grief is like. You build walls that aren't easily knocked down. Alodia knocked down a lot of my walls in the time I knew her. When I thought I'd lost her, I built up new walls for her. Ain't no one I went to bed with who stuck around long enough to knock 'em down.” Oh, fuck me, I've somehow managed to finish my third beer, and here he's ordering another round. I'm starting to feel a little heady. “One guy came close, but didn't prove up to the task in the end. And now, six months later, the love of my life is back, and she still loves me. If I still want her and she still wants me, why shouldn't we be together?”

“Do you intend to marry her?”

Oh, fuck shit on a cockstick...what the hell kind of question is that and why do I suddenly feel so unprepared for it? The words are half out of my mouth before my brain catches up to me.

“We're already married.”

“...What.”

Classic reaction. Flat affect and everything. The expression halfway between disbelief and displeasure. I grimace, looking into my mug of foamy amber liquid. Same basic color as the Catalyst idols. Or apple juice. Probably a common substitute on film and television when an actor's character needs to drink beer for a scene. Hell, my sister once tricked me into tasting my dad's beer by telling me it was apple juice when I was a kid. Never touched apple juice again. Still like beer though. ...Where the fuck are these thoughts coming from? Oh, god, what was I talking about?

“I mean, not...legally. It was like, two days before Rourke dragged 'er off and stuck her in the tube we found 'er in. We thought we were gonna die, so our friends threw together a little ceremony for us.”

“...In prison?”

My inebriated mind races, searching for the most plausible combination of truth and bullshit I can muster. “Well, no. We'd managed to escape him and throw him off for awhile, but the way things were going, we weren't all that hopeful that we'd make it off the island. Like I said, it wasn't a legal ceremony or anything. Just a ribbon tied around our hands and speaking vows. But what the hell is legal marriage except a piece of paper and tax breaks and shit?”

“...So, you don't have any plans to legally marry her?”

I kinda get the feeling I fucked this up somewhere. “I mean...if she wants to, then yeah. Let's do it. But you know the only reason she's calling me her boyfriend and not her husband is she didn't want to freak you guys out.” Good god, McKenzie, just shut up!

But then Robert Fisher surprises me. “If you're going to be my niece's partner for the long term, whether or not you marry her, you will need a job. It's true she has a trust fund that could last her a good long while, but I don't want either of you relying on that forever. Especially if she decides to go back to school and complete her degree. So, I would like to offer you a job.”

“...I...you...what?”

“At my firm. One of my employees has a spouse whose job is transferring them out of state in two weeks. It's not anything complicated or fancy, doesn't require a law degree. It's just clerical work. But it pays well. Have you ever done anything like reception or anything administrative?”

“I...did some temp work here and there after getting off the island...”

“That's fine. We've got time to train you. We may have to get you some new clothes, too. ...But that's only if you accept the position.”

“I...well...” I pause a moment to hiccup. “...I...don't know how wise it was to ask me that when I'm verging on drunk.”

“Should I ask again tonight?”

“Yeah...please do...”

* * *

A few hours later, I've sobered up, showered, and dressed in some clothes I borrowed from Rob that he says will be appropriate for the restaurant we're dining in. He's got me in a sportcoat and tie, so I'm guessing it's someplace fancy. We don't say much on the way to the restaurant, but I do accept the job offer, which he acknowledges with a satisfied nod and a promise to take me shopping for appropriate attire tomorrow.

The restaurant is some five-star French place, elegant and classy, with a dance floor and a live string quartet. Molly and Alodia are waiting for us outside. When I see my wife, my jaw drops. Whatever they did at that spa certainly did it's job. She looks absolutely stunning, practically glowing in a glittering dusty rose evening dress. Her hair is swept up and pinned back in an elegant twist, with soft golden ringlets framing her sweet, heart-shaped face. She beams as she comes to kiss me.

“Don't you look handsome,” she murmurs. “Did you enjoy the game?”

“I sucked at it, but no one said it,” I quip. I lean over to kiss her ear and whisper. “I let slip about our symbolic wedding. Didn't give too many details.”

I can practically feel the anxiety ripple through her, but she pulls back and smiles. “It's okay,” she replies, softly but not so softly that Molly and Rob couldn't hear if they wanted to. “It was bound to come out sometime.”  

I smile, reaching up and tucking a loose ringlet behind her ear. “...God, you look beautiful.” I turn, offering her my arm. “Shall we?”

Surprisingly, the subject of mine and Alodia's “symbolic” wedding doesn't come up over dinner, although Rob does announce that I've accepted the job he offered. Between dinner and dessert, we join a number of other couples on the floor to dance. They're playing a waltz, but only a few couples seem to actually be waltzing. Most of us are just wrapped up in our partners' arms, swaying gently. Alodia's arms twine around my neck and we look into each others' eyes as we move.

“You seem pretty at ease,” I remark. “I guess that trip to the spa did what it was supposed to?”

“It was really heavenly,” she admits. “Nothing wrong with a little indulgence now and then, I guess.”

“Feeling better about what's likely going to be a showy and expensive surprise tomorrow?”

“A bit, yeah. But you know what I'm really feeling good about?”

“What?”

“Being here with you.” A mischeivous smile flickers across her face and she waggles her eyebrows. “...And all the stuff I want to do to you tonight.”

“Oh, Princess, you read my mind. You don't think your folks'll let us skip dessert, do you?”

“Unfortunately not. We'll just have to make do with two helpings.” She presses close to kiss me.  “Just don't lose the mood before then.”

I nuzzle her neck. She's wearing some kind of perfume, something flowery and just a little musky. She's warm in my arms, a perfect fit.

“I don't think there's a chance in hell that I'll lose the mood tonight, Princess.”

[drwakanda]

Black Panther Fighting Styles Update

I have posted about Black Panther and African fighting styles previously but since the new movie is out and we have some new visuals to draw from I figured I would do a little update. Here is a description of the fighting styles of Wakanda and what real world African martial arts they would likely be related to. This comes from a mix of what cultures are in the same area as Wakanda in the film and what I suspect  the choreographers used as inspiration.

Now for the sake of suspension of disbelief it is important to note that the choreographers as far as I know are not well trained in African or African based martial arts. So what they had to do is aproximate the forms using what they already knew and samples. Fortunately all martial arts work on the same principles of human physicality so a throw in Judo looks very similar to a throw in Giddigbo. Martial arts styles are distinguished by subtle differences in body shape, rhythms and situational heritage. If one understands the body mechanics of combat and the culture the art is coming from, one can extrapolate fairly accurately. This film have delved deeper in to African traditions than any other film to date. So at minimum the choreographers have good material to work with.

There are four major fight choreographers on Black Panther, Clayton J Barber, Jonathan Eusebio, Jon Valera and Chris Brewster. Brewster seems to have a background primarily in Taekwondo, bjj, and tricking. Clayton J Barber stated in an interview for the official ovie guide book that they took inspiration from a range of fighting styles and tried to keep the fighting styles in tune with African movements, themes, and rhythms. he also stated this was difficult process but that he feels they found a good balance.

One thing I noticed about this statement is that it is rather vague. The only African based fighting style he mentions in the interview is Capoeira and he the other styles he mentions by name are Silat and Kali but in a sense that elements of those Asian arts were just used for "seasoning" Barber and Brewster both have some very standard karate. Taekwondo, and tricking backgrounds. Probably some Brazilian Jujitsu in there as well. (I am guessing BJJ cause that is is super popular.) Maybe some kung fu forms of some sort. Hard to find a detailed list of the arts they do. Jon Valera and Jonathan Eusebio are both major Kali and Silat practitioners. Eusebio is also versed in Savate Muay Thai and Jun Fan. He is an Dan Inosanto student which typically means. if it is  historically East Asian and can kill you, he has probably studied it rather extensively.

Capoeira is relevant to the creation of fight choreography because of its unique history. Capoeira is an Afro-Brazilian martial folk art created by African slaves brought to Brazil. Most of these slaves were from Angola and The Congo region. experts on the art believe capoeira was adapted from Angolan arts like Engolo, Kandeka, Bassula, and Kamangula. Congolese arts that are believed to be like Kipura, Libanda, Gwindulumutu, and Musondi. There is a limited amount of info on most of these arts (along with most of the African martial arts I am discussing here) but all these are share common themes, emphasis on evasive movement and inverted body positions(handstands and the like) extensive use of kicks sweeps and slaps; dynamic grappling and headbutting; and the incorporation of music that uses the same instruments and rhythms.

I don't think it is as accurate to say that Capoeira is descended from these other arts as it is to say Capoeira is a branch on the same tree of of arts with shared concepts. Capoeira is uniquely Brazilian and also has elements of West African and Native culture blended in as well. Capoeira was and is a system built to preserve and proliferate African culture against the pressures of colonial oppression and degradation. Different Capoeira schools different emphasis on the African culture at core of the art but it is always there. If you were trying to make a Black Panther movie with only one martial art Capoeira would be the best one to create a movie accurate to African identity. 

The writers, composers and costume designers drew on many African cultures for the design of the film. Some even spent some time in Africa for research so it is likely that some of the choreographers did similar research. Even if they didn't we do live in an age where you can google African martial arts and a decent list of videos and a few articles will come up. Winston Dukes even references Laamb in an interview about the movie so at minimum we can make a relatively safe assumption the choreographers referenced some some Youtube videos when designing the fight choreography itself I suspect they used there own training in Asian arts and the training of the actors and other stunt performers as a base and trying to mimic African  arts and extrapolate out what they would look like in the world of Wakanda. Many of the actors and stunt people did train or already had training in some African arts which provided even more material to work from.

  Wakanda is  situated in between South Sudan, Ethiopia,  Kenya,  Uganda , and the Democratic Republic of Congo.  Some of the people listed by the creators of the film as being influences for the costumes and culture of Wakanda are Maasai Himba Dogon  Basotho  Tuareg, Turkana  Xhosa,  Zulu,  Surma,  Serer and Dinka peoples. Given that some of these cultures are thousands of kilometers from Wakandas' location Their influence probably came through trade. Through out the history of Africa Warriors have traveled between tribes and nations exchanging combat techniques. This tradition has likely been a part of Wakandan culture as well. Even after going into hiding they still maintained Wardogs in other countries and still had a public face that has some interaction with other peoples. We will look at Wakanda’s martial arts as though they evolved next to real African martial arts, developing rather simultaneously and influencing each other. Some arts from neighboring countries will have closer relation while others share some influence from long distance trade.

Besides trade, the five tribes that settled in Wakanda could have migrated from quite far across the African continent which could have migrated from the far ends of the continent which would also contribute to there martial arts having a diverse ancestry. It is also important to note that while the different tribes and social classes of Wakanda would have different combat forms reflective of there roles and unique environments, these arts also would have shared between tribes and shaped each other. In this way along with the history and technology, Wakanda stands as a Mecca of diverse Pan-African identity. 

To start we have The fighting style of the Black Panther and his family the Golden Tribe. Based on the matching color schemes, I suspect the Panther clan came from the merchant tribe originally. Chadwick Boseman spend a lot of time training for the role a mix of escrima, jujutsu but mostly Capoeira. He stunt doubles also primarily used capoeira for the fight and stunt scenes as well. Based on this an the geographrical location of Wakanda. Black Panther’s style is probably most closely related to Kipura, Libanda, Engolo and the like. Libanda in particular is a prominent feature of the Bukumbusu (Mukumbusu being the singular), a culture of professional fighters in Kinshasa. Libanda features a lot of grappling. In The Film T'Challa uses a lot of transitions found in Capoeira low game like negativa, role, and queda de rins to go into different locks and and holds. This give the sense Black Panther’s style has a more expanded ground game than is seen in most Capoeira practices. The next closely related martial art is probably  Kayti, Maasai stick fighting. There are a few variations of the style but typically involve a defensive and offensive stick and a lot of downward strikes. Xhosa, stick fighting, Zulu stick fighting and Musangwe also seem to ad some strong influence as well seemingly incorporated into the Kayti forms in the martial traditions of the Golden tribe. T'Challa's preferred combat during challenges is a spear and shield similar to Zulu combat.

Next Nakia of the River Tribe. I think like the Golden Tribe, they use a set of forms  related to a mix of Congolese, Kenyan  and south African  arts. While The Golden tribe uses more Congolese related forms similar to Kipura and Libanda, the River tribe Kenyan  South African forms. Based On Nakia’s grappling the River tribe seems to use fighting forms related to Turkana Grappling like Saki and Zulu Isinaphakade Samathongo. Both this arts have extensive trapping locking and throwing techniques that work well with compact blades like the Turkana wrist knife or Ararait. The keepers of the sacred herb probably branched off of the river tribe being people of the denser vegetation areas. Plus Nakia new of a secret entrance to the garden.

The Dora Milaje were described as being mostly based on the Maasai in design, but their spear techniques look very similar to Egyptian Tahtib and the the Surma stick fighting art of Donga. The matching red patterns of the Mining tribe (and the Maasai influence in their look) gives me the sense that the Dora Milaje were originally a branch of the mining tribe but now any women can apply for the job. (I imagine you could apply. I wonder who you would use for references...) The footwork and the way the Dora work in groups reminds me of the demonstrations I have seen of Tahtib. Tahtib historically has been a stick fighting art meant to train someone for the use of a short spear or axe so it lends itself well to the Dora spear. Donga appears to be a related influence with some of the strike patterns.3 Add in some Kayti from their Maasai influence and you have a pretty diverse and deadly combat system.

The border tribe are described as being based on the Basotho for clothing design. The sickle swords they use look similar the to the Azande makraka and the Axumite shotel. Their Territory seems to be more arid open plains and their use of shields in a phalanx fashion seems similar to more  Ancient Egyptian and Nubian infantry. The Shotel is especially useful for pulling mounted enemies of horses, hooking around shields or pulling legs out from under an opponent. The Border Tribe seems very well versed in fighting against shields and cavalry as well as fighting with shields and mounts. Even before the mounted rhinos (which was awesome) we see many of them riding horses and they probably have horsemanship skills like those of various Berber tribes of Northwest Africa. (Many Berber communities are still Matriarchal too which makes Okoye wearing the metaphorical pants in the family even more fitting. Their fighting style seems like a mix of Nuba  sword and shield fighting and Ethiopian sword technique. 

As I stated before, Winston Dukes talks about the the look Jibari being based on Sengalese wrestlers. During the first challenge M’Baku uses a lot of headbutts. It is likely the Jibari use a style related to  Eritrean Reisy or Testa that combines grappling with strategic headbutting. Jibari combat probably also incorporates some Libanda  and some elements  of Laamb.

Finally there is Eric Killmonger/N’Jadaka. His style is an interesting mix. He has some training in the Golden tribe arts so some of his farm looks like kipura and Katyi. But the biggest influence in is form seems to be Boxing or potentially even some 52 Blocks while he was training on the east coast in Annapolis.  Along with boxing his training military probably included Jujutsu, Eskrima and Taekwondo. (Those tend to be pretty common across the country in the military) He has very sharp, snappy, Taekwondo kicks. Eric also has experience in other African fighting styles But it is tough to know what ones without knowing more about where he has operated. Though his scar imply a lot of time spend With the Surma.

I am really hoping the DVD extras has the choreographers talking about the African martial arts that inspired the film. There is a rich history and culture Of African martial traditions I am looking forward to seeing more of in future films.

https://youtu.be/-FpAgvltiC4 https://youtu.be/RmDP5w065Vs https://youtu.be/3bkBE3SFv0g https://youtu.be/NcUITOLXQf0 https://youtu.be/lzxkDOJm9xw https://youtu.be/ra4ryqV93gg https://youtu.be/FFwMN--jv64 https://youtu.be/MHWw9UKzHAo https://youtu.be/qU_6vfzEoIA https://youtu.be/6W7hVTiRmeg https://youtu.be/VprBg8GiHqU https://youtu.be/HXXOc9h6MmY https://youtu.be/VtjZL4BMQd8 https://youtu.be/HGz8uhuHmRc https://youtu.be/_jmN5RiEBVs https://youtu.be/zEMZm1mU3cE https://youtu.be/rvGrJ3EzA0A

[quicksilversquared]

Of Hidden Doors and Secret Elevators

It's an oft-asked question: if Adrien is a model, then where's his closet? He should have tons of clothes. Simple- the closet is behind a hidden door in the wall.

Here's the story of how the closet got hidden and how Mr. Agreste got the secret elevator in his study.

(AO3) (FF.net)

"Sir," Nathalie said in the most long-suffering voice she could manage as she watched her boss and his wife brainstorm ideas for the hidden elevator they wanted built to carry them up into their secret attic-cum-lair. "I see some potential issues with this plan."

"Nonsense," Mr. Agreste said briskly, consulting the house blueprints again and pointing to a particular section. "There's plenty of space in the wall right here from where the dumbwaiter used to run for the elevator we have planned. It would just be for one person at a time, after all. It doesn't need a whole lot of space."

"We might have to move a wall in the library upstairs in slightly, but that's not a huge issue," Mrs. Agreste chimed in. "We've consulted a 3-D model on the computer, too, to make certain that we were looking at the 2-D prints right. Our elevator will fit."

"That's not-" Nathalie started in exasperation, wondering if it was too late to look into a career change. She suspected the answer would be yes.

"And we're hiring in a contractor from the US," Mr. Agreste added, cutting Nathalie off. "They're the best at the secret doors and elevators business, and they have enough nonsense going on over there in the States that they won't be paying any attention to anything going on in Paris. They won't get suspicious of us."

Nathalie sighed. "Yes, I'm aware of where the contractor is from, considering that I was the one to find them. I was more concerned about what you're going to tell Adrien when he wants to know what's going on in your office. You know he'll be curious."

Both Mr. and Mrs. Agreste looked startled as they exchanged a look. Clearly they hadn't considered their son when making their plans. Nathalie tried not to sigh.

She didn't have any kids of her own, but sometimes it felt like she was the only one that took Adrien fully into consideration when making plans.

"Well, maybe we could do some other renovations at the same time," Mrs. Agreste suggested. "New curtains, replacing the lights in the atrium, maybe, uh..."

"Isn't Adrien into spy...stuff?" Mr. Agreste asked. At Nathalie's nod, he nodded. "Perhaps we could get him a hidden door of his own to distract him. We could make the doors to his walk-in closet blend in with his climbing wall, and he would be too thrilled about that to be concerned about anything else."

He was right, Nathalie had to admit. Adrien would be thrilled to have a secret entrance to his walk-in closet. Still, he was likely to notice the construction in other parts of the house as well, or wonder why his parents had suddenly decided to allow him to have a hidden door, and she said so.

"It can be his Christmas present," Mrs. Agreste suggested. "We can say that we wanted some security upgrades in the office to explain away the construction there. Perhaps we can have some smaller, non-custom secret doors elsewhere in the mansion as well. It would go with our heightened security."

"I am not turning the mansion into some sort of spy movie set," Mr. Agreste said peevishly. Apparently he didn't realize that his planned secret elevator to be the absolute biggest 'spy movie set' element of the planned renovations. "I don't want to have to press certain piano keys or pick up a certain book or whatever whenever I want to go to the bathroom."

Mrs. Agreste gave him one of her famous Looks. "We can discuss possible locations that wouldn't interfere with our lives too much. I think it would be a good diversion to have at least one other secret entrance that Adrien knows about. Maybe we could develop that safe room we've been talking about." She turned back to Nathalie. "And we could also take Adrien on a trip with us while the construction is going on, so he doesn't necessarily know that there's something going on in the office."

"Do you think that there would be too many construction people around if we tried to upgrade the security for the house at the same time?" Mr. Agreste asked his wife as Nathalie turned and started gathering up papers so she could get Adrien's next lesson in order. "I was thinking of metal shutters that could go over the windows-"

"No," Mrs. Agreste said shortly. "The fewer people who see the elevator go in, the better. We can have the other stuff put in later."

"Of course, dear."

Nathalie just shook her head as she left the room to go find Adrien. At least one member of the family was still sane.

  "Don't you think you're jumping the gun a little bit?" Nathalie asked as she watched the Agrestes examining the plans that the secret door company had sent. "You haven't even gotten the- what did you call them? The gems- yet. They've been missing for forever, so how are you so sure you'll find them?"

"Failure is not an option," Mr. Agreste said immediately. He leveled a glare in Nathalie's direction, presumably for doubting them. "We have legends to work off, and guides lined up for some preliminary trips. It's not something you need to concern yourself about."

Nathalie shrunk back. "Understood, sir."

Mr. and Mrs. Agreste went back to reviewing their plans for the elevator as Nathalie retreated to her desk to organize their schedules for the next week. She listened somewhat incredulously as she worked as they discussed the different configurations that the company had proposed.

"I don't like this one as much," Mrs. Agreste said, pointing to one. "We would have to move in the office wall, and I think Adrien would notice that. I like this one, with the elevator that goes straight down first, then over and up. The passage would just go through the laundry room, right? It wouldn't be that in the way. It wouldn't be in the middle of the room or anything."

"There's more drama to it, too, going straight down through the floor," Mr. Agreste agreed, and Nathalie made sure that she was safely behind her computer before rolling her eyes. She had though when Mr. Agreste first brought up the idea of a secret way up to the "lair" that it would simply be a staircase hidden behind a bookshelf or a painting in one of the upper rooms. It would be simple and straightforward (well, as straightforward as a secret passage to an evil villain lair could get).

This was going to be neither simple nor straightforward. There was going to be a lot of construction going into it, and the whole family was going to have to be out of the city for a couple weeks while Nathalie kept an eye on things in the house.

It was also going to be very, very expensive. The two small "secret doors" that Mrs. Agreste had managed to talk her husband into would be the least expensive, followed by Adrien's custom climbing wall door, but they would all be pricey.

The secret elevator's cost was in a class all of its own. Still, Mr. and Mrs. Agreste didn't seem fazed. Apparently being able to be whisked to their lair directly from their office was worth the price of the hidden elevator.

Rich people, really.

The reasoning Nathalie had gotten when she inquired about other options (read: a nice simple hidden staircase upstairs) was that they didn't want to risk Adrien accidentally finding the lair, and they thought they would be risking him stumbling across it or spotting them coming down if the sole entrance was anywhere besides in their office. Nathalie thought that a very simple solution to that would be to put the entrance in a room Adrien didn't go into a lot (the stuffy upstairs lounge came to mind), to require a key or fingerprint sensor or remote of some sort to open the hidden door, and to have a security camera feed in the room so they could see if there was anyone there before exiting.

Apparently her solutions weren't dramatic enough. Nathalie despaired, she really did. But she supposed that saving would-be supervillains money wasn't exactly in her job description, so she dropped it.

(Still, it was almost physically painful to see such large expenses in the Agrestes' personal finances.)

"We'll have to be gone for what- four weeks? Five?- if we don't want Adrien seeing the construction there," Mrs. Agreste was saying as Nathalie answered emails and set up their schedules for the next week. Mr. Agreste had to have a meeting with a fabric supplier this week, and both of them were being stubborn asses about when they were willing to be free for the meeting. "That's a long time to be away. I don't suppose Adrien could just stay with his friend at the Grand Paris for part of that time?"

"I don't want Adrien around that girl for that long," Mr. Agreste said immediately. "She's a brat, and I don't want her to influence Adrien. Nathalie? Any suggestions?"

Nathalie glanced up and gave it a few seconds' thought before answering. "Well, you could have the workers install the other two doors and get the building in the basement done before you leave. You could ask the contractors about a timeline and what could be put in ahead of time that wouldn't attract a lot of attention from Adrien. And they could do work in the office while Adrien is gone at fencing or basketball or photoshoots, and he could have Chinese lessons in the library or something instead of in the house."

Mr. Agreste considered that, nodded, and turned back to Mrs. Agreste. Sensing the dismissal, Nathalie turned back to her computer.

Honestly, all they had to do would be to send Adrien to school- either public or private, it didn't matter- and then he would be gone for the full day, but Mrs. Agreste would never hear of it. She wanted her son home-schooled, and if they let Adrien go to school for even a short time, it would be near-impossible to get Adrien to drop the topic ever again. He wouldn't want to leave, and Nathalie wasn't certain if even his mother would be able to stand up against the puppy eyes he was sure to produce in that scenario.

"Perhaps we could have a number of field trips and lessons around the city," Mrs. Agreste suggested. "That would keep Adrien out of the house during the day. And then we would only travel when there's work being done in his bedroom. That should keep it down to a manageable amount of time."

"That sounds like a good idea," Mr. Agreste agreed. "Now all we have to do is select the final designs and work out a contract. Nathalie, can you...?"

Smothering her sigh, Nathalie nodded and pulled up her email to contact the company. For some reason, she was getting the distinct feeling that she would be doing a lot of combing through contract paperwork in the next few days.

  Adrien's excited shriek when he opened the note explaining his Christmas present was enough to make Nathalie crack a small smile. He hugged both of his parents, grinning widely as he did. Even Nathalie and the Gorilla got a hug as he spun happily around the room.

Nathalie only wished that he was getting his super-secret-spy-door for another reason, instead of just as a diversion technique while his supervillain-wannabe parents got their own secret elevator to an evil lair.

"That's so cool!" Adrien enthused as he inspected the plans. "It's just like a spy movie! Nathalie, did you see-?"

Nathalie had seen the plans- she had been the one to work with the contractors to design the style of door she had thought Adrien would most like, and several versions of those plans had passed over her desk before they settled on the final version- but instead of telling Adrien that, she allowed him to show her the copies of the plans he had gotten in his present. He was so excited, and there weren't that many people he could show off his present to.

"-and it opens if I push these buttons over the screws in the handholds in a specific order, and then twist a specific handhold!" Adrien explained, and Nathalie nodded and ahhed as though she hadn't been the one to come up with that plan along with one of the builders from the secret door company. "But all of the handhold will be strong enough that I'll be able to use it just like a normal climbing wall the rest of the time!"

...Nathalie had been the one to insist on that, too. She didn't want to risk Adrien forgetting which handholds were real and which weren't and then having one of the fake ones give out under him.

"And then the wall will go backwards and then split and slide to the sides," Adrien continued, still grinning. "And then I can go into my closet! It's gonna be awesome!"

The process of getting the doors installed was going to be much less awesome- Nathalie was going to be in charge of getting everything covered so sawdust didn't get into all of Adrien's things, and then coordinating the clean-up once the workers were done- but there was no way she was going to rain on Adrien's parade.

It took a few more months of negotiations before the contractors showed up on their doorstep. Nathalie escorted them in and showed them where the first two doors were to be installed, one on the wine cabinet and the other on a safe room-slash-study. Adrien blazed through his assignments and then perched on a stool on the end of a hallway, watching with interest as the workers installed the doors. Nathalie found herself sent to check on him to make sure that he wasn't getting in anyone's way but true to form, Adrien was being perfectly behaved and was staying well back as he watched the workers.

Unsurprisingly, he wasn't thrilled when Nathalie started keeping him out of the house more once the workers started work on the elevator in earnest. He buckled down and worked even harder in an effort to get back to the house faster so he could watch whatever work was going on, and Nathalie was forced to step up the amount of material they were covering so that they wouldn't get back too soon.

"There's a lot of noise and fuss right now," Nathalie told him briskly when he complained. "And you know you'll be going on a trip with your parents soon, and you might be too busy to keep up with your schoolwork. If you get ahead of schedule now, you'll be able to let yourself enjoy yourself."

Adrien didn't look convinced. Still, he stopped complaining.

After a week and a half of lessons in various libraries and museums across Paris, all three of the Agrestes took off to attend Fashion Week in London. Nathalie spent an entire day covering and packing things in the office away so that the workers could start proper work in there, and then as soon as she was done she headed straight to Adrien's bedroom to pack all of the clothes in his closet away and tape a plastic sheeting divider up so that sawdust and other junk wouldn't get into the rest of Adrien's room.

That was very, very difficult. There had been a whole lot of swearing while she tried to attach the sheet to the ceiling, and Nathalie was very, very glad that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Agreste (or Adrien) were home, because she would have gotten in a lot of trouble. Still, once one of the workers stopped by to help her out, she managed to get a tight seal that would hopefully keep Adrien's room mostly clean.

And then started the two weeks from hell.

Walls and floors were cut. Hammers banged. Power tools screeched. Nathalie escaped outside to the courtyard to work, and then went to the park across the street to escape the pounding that she could still hear.

She couldn't go too far, though. After all, she had to be nearby in case any of the workers needed to ask her any questions. It meant headaches nearly every day, and yet she still had to be on top of scheduling meetings and getting Adrien's lessons in order and balancing Mr. Agreste's checkbook and keeping Gabriel on track with Mr. Agreste gone and- and-

Well, it was a lot to keep track of when she couldn't work from her desk with her normal computer and tablet setup.

Slowly, everything was coming together. Every time Nathalie went inside now, Adrien's wall looked closer to finished and the elevator was in fewer parts. She snapped a few photos of the in-progress wall for Adrien, but mostly stayed away, except for the few days when it rained and she was forced to either try to find the quietest room in the house or to find the car keys and sit in the back seat and work.

She could work in the back seat of the car. She did it quite often, when she had to join Adrien when he was being shuttled to his various activities. But spending the entire day working in the car was. not. fun.

Like she often found herself doing these days- and by these days, she meant ever since she discovered that her employers wanted to become supervillains- Nathalie wondered if it would be possible to change jobs.

Probably not. Nathalie suspected that once one knew about one's boss' plans to become supervillains, one wouldn't just be allowed to quit and go elsewhere. It would probably be safer if she just kept her head down and kept working.

Nathalie made certain that she was in the house when the Agrestes returned. She didn't particularly care what Mr. and Mrs. Agreste thought of their elevator, but she wanted to see what Adrien thought of his closet.

He didn't disappoint.

"I can't even tell that it's there!" Adrien exclaimed in utter delight as he inspected the wall. His smile lit up the entire room. "It's so seamless! Like, they must have lined the split up with the panels for the climbing wall!"

"Do you remember the button combination?" Nathalie asked as Adrien continued to peer at the wall. "So you can get to your clothes?"

Nathalie was expecting Adrien to go pull out the blueprints from his desk to consult before he tried to punch in the combination. She was not expecting Adrien to nod eagerly and start punching in the buttons covering certain handhold screws in precisely the right order, no hesitations, and finishing up with twisting the correct handhold. She was pretty certain that her jaw had hit the floor, and she hastily snapped it shut before Adrien saw.

Well. Apparently her worries about Adrien not being able to remember the "password" and getting frustrated with his new door were all for naught. He already had it down pat.

...how he had managed to memorize the pattern just from concept art alone she had no clue, and she wasn't going to waste too much time trying to figure it out. Adrien was a smart boy and a focused one, and clearly he had channeled some of that focus into learning his closet door's password.

"Oh, this is so cool!" Adrien enthused as he bounded into his closet. Nathalie had spent forever earlier in the day putting all of his clothes back in after the cleaning crew came through. "I mean, I know it's the same closet on the inside, but it's just so much cooler with the secret door!"

"You might have to put all of your own clothes away now," Nathalie warned him. "I don't know if the maid will be interested in learning the password."

Adrien was too excited to care. "I can put my stuff away! And it's even cooler if no one else knows the password to get in, because then it's even more secret and mysterious!"

Nathalie just smiled.

  Mr. and Mrs. Agreste were having a much more difficult time remembering the combination for their elevator than Adrien had had with his closet. There were a number of incidents where they spent a while trying to find all of the buttons to push (it was a good thing that everything had to be pushed at once, Nathalie reflected as she watched silently from her corner of the room, because if they had to punch the hidden buttons in a pattern then they would never get up to their lair), and a good deal of accidents where they wouldn't get both of their feet fully on the elevator circle and ended up falling over when they got unbalanced by the floor lowering under one foot but not the other. Mr. Agreste had even once gotten stuck up in the lair and spent several hours banging around trying to figure out how to trigger the elevator back down before anyone realized that he was missing.

(It was truly a miracle that she hadn't burst out laughing at their misfortunes and gotten herself fired yet.)

Three days after Mr. Agreste got himself stuck in the lair, Adrien somehow got himself trapped in the closet. Nathalie only found him when she went to fetch him for his lesson and instead found a closed closet with funny noises coming from it. Sighing, she went over and freed him (admittedly after several failed password attempts, because she hadn't bothered to try particularly hard to memorize the password).

"Thanks," Adrien said sheepishly once he was freed. "There isn't any way to open the closet from the inside."

"How did you even get closed in, then?" Nathalie demanded as she twisted the handhold back into position to close the secret door. "Did you turn the handhold and then immediately dash back inside?"

"I forgot something inside and thought I could grab it and get back out before the doors shut," Adrien admitted. "...but I couldn't."

"I'll email the company and see if we can't get some sort of switch inside," Nathalie decided, pulling out her tablet. "So you can open and close it from there, too, in case you decide to do that again in the future."

Adrien lit up. "Thanks, Nathalie!"

  Several years later, Nathalie couldn't help but smirk a little bit whenever she saw the painting that housed the hidden buttons for the elevator. The elder Agrestes were going to Tibet several times a year, yet the jewels- the Miraculous- that they were aiming to find remained stubbornly out of their grasp. The secret lair and the elevator leading up to it remained unused.

  Several months after that, Mr. Agreste returned with two Miraculous and other artifacts and without his wife. For the first time in two years, the gears of the hidden elevator ground into action.

  Bonus Scene

Ten minutes into their study session, Nino was obviously distracted. After watching him staring around the room for several minutes, Alya finally spoke up.

"Are you looking for something, Nino?" she wanted to know. "Or are you bored with studying already?"

Nino shook his head. "No, I was just looking- okay, this is gonna sound weird- I was just trying to figure out where Adrien keeps all of his clothes. Like, I don't see a closet or anything and dude, you're a model."

Adrien laughed. "Oh, I have a closet," he assured Nino. "A walk-in closet, in fact. It's quite large. What do you mean you can't see it?"

Nino gaped at him for a moment, then recovered. "No- no, dude, you're lying," he announced. "There's no way I somehow missed seeing a walk-in closet. Is it not in your room or something?"

"It's in my room."

"Is it in your bathroom?" Alya demanded as she looked around as well. "That's the only door I see that doesn't just lead to the hallway."

Adrien just shook his head, smiling.

"Is there a door up on your second level?" Marinette guessed, craning her neck to look up to the next level. "All I see is bookshelves."

Adrien's grin got larger as he shook his head again.

"You're killing me, Agreste," Nino groaned, flopping back in his chair. "Now I'm not gonna be able to concentrate until I know the answer."

Adrien laughed and popped out of his chair, heading over to his climbing wall. His friends watched with equal parts bemusement and interest as he started poking at certain holds. He finished with a twist, and suddenly a large square of wall clicked backwards, then separated and slid apart. Adrien stepped inside, then flipped a switch to illuminate the closet.

His friends stared.

"Isn't it cool?" Adrien asked, grinning. "It was my Christmas present when I was ten."

"How did you persuade your parents to get you something like that?" Alya demanded, popping out of her chair to go inspect the doors. Nino and Marinette weren't far behind. "That's absolutely insane!"

"It was their idea," Adrien said, grinning widely. At Nino's dubious look, he corrected himself. "Well, okay, it was probably my mom's idea, but my father agreed. They were doing some other stuff with the company elsewhere in the house and they know I loved the spy stuff, so they added in my closet door."

"What else did they put in?" Nino asked curiously. "I just can't picture your father wanting to put, like, spy stuff in the house. He just doesn't seem the type."

"He's the paranoid security type, which has overlapping technology," Adrien said with a laugh. "So there was, like, a safe room in the basement, and the wine cellar, and then I think some safes behind paintings, that kind of thing."

Nino laughed. "Your pops wanted to secure the wine cellar back when you were ten? What kind of a ten-year-old were you?"

"It wasn't like that!" Adrien protested, elbowing his friend. "I think they just wanted to be ready or something, or maybe one of the household staff was stealing the good wine or something. I don't know. I've even forgotten where that door is, it's so well hidden."

"Never mind that," Alya said, standing in the closet's entrance and surveying the bedroom from her position. "Just think of the possibilities with this! Like, if you had people over for a party in your room or something, then you could hide in the closet with these backlights on- and why do you have such freakishly good lighting in a closet, Agreste?- and then once everyone is in your room, wondering where you are, then- boom! Music blares, the wall opens, and you're standing there, backlit by the lights, and with, like, a cape billowing behind you. That would be so. cool."

Adrien was laughing. "Okay, I can see a couple logistical problems with this," he managed. "One- what makes you think that my father would let me have a party, let alone a party with more people than just you guys? And two- I don't have a wind machine. If I was wearing a cape, it would just kind of just sit there." There was a pause. "And I need good lights in here so I can see what I'm doing when I get dressed so I don't clash. I have a mirror, too."

Alya trotted in to inspect the full-length mirror. "Does this move, too?" she wanted to know. "I've heard of safes hidden behind mirror so many times."

"It does open, but it's just a simple tug-and-open, I'm afraid," Adrien said. He reached over and tugged, making the mirror swing out. There were shelves hidden behind the mirror, filled with pocket squares and cuff links and other knickknacks. "It's stuff for fancy events, mostly."

"Dude."

"Do you wanna see the safe room?" Adrien offered. "It's a pretty cool door."

All three of his friends nodded eagerly. Adrien led the way out of his closet, flicking the lights off as he stepped out. Once all of them were out, he twisted the handhold back into place and the doors slid back into place, leaving a full wall behind by the time they reached the door.

Adrien led them out of his room and down the main stairs, then through another door to a hallway filled with bookshelves and a couple small side tables. Adrien paused near one of the bookshelves. He paused, running his fingers over several book covers, then pulled one out. There was a quiet click, and then Adrien pushed the shelf open like a door, revealing a room beyond.

"Your house is insane, dude," Nino said, stepping inside the room. There weren't any windows, and the only decoration on the wall were a few somber portraits. The furniture was similarly subdued. "...okay, tell the truth- are there safes behind those paintings?"

"No clue," Adrien replied. "I don't come down here much, and that's not the kind of thing Nathalie or my parents just tells me. We do have, like, emergency supplies here, though. I'm not sure why." Adrien led them into the room, flipping a lever to close the door behind them. Marinette glanced back, and saw that it was an incredibly thick door, and on the inside there were several chains and locks to secure the door further from the inside.

That was weird.

"There's a bathroom in here," Adrien explained, pointing to a black door. "And then over here through this door, it's kind of a kitchen. There's a toaster oven, and a portable stovetop burner thing, and a bunch of canned food."

"Dude, that's really weird," Nino commented, peering through the door to the 'kitchen'. "There's a sink in here, too- like, when did your parents think that they were going to use this room? You could stay in here for, like, a week, easy."

Adrien just shrugged. "It's just in case, I guess," he offered. "I don't know. My dad is paranoid, I guess. We've never had to use it."

"I should hope not," Alya said, sounding absolutely shocked. "I don't even- I just- wow. Okay. Okay, this has suddenly changed from cool spy-house to slightly worrying vibe. Can we go back to studying now?"

  Bonus Bonus Scene

When Marinette got home, she couldn't wipe the slight frown off of her face. The secret room had bothered her a lot, even if Adrien had treated it as just some paranoid quirk of his father's.

"That was a really prepared safe room," Marinette told Tikki as she unpacked her backpack and put her books on her desk. "Like, that door was hidden, which was cool, but then that was an armored door on the inside, and then the locks, and all of that cooking stuff... it was just weird. Like, I was expecting Adrien to say that there were beds hidden in there somewhere. Why would Mr. Agreste need a safe room like that? Who would go after a fashion designer?"

"There is something weird about Mr. Agreste," Tikki agreed. "Between the security measures on the whole house, and the Miraculous book, and those secret doors and the safe room, there's something really weird there. I can't help but wonder what other things he's hiding."

"Do you think whatever he's hiding has to do with the Miraculous and Hawkmoth?" Marinette asked anxiously. "Like maybe he's hiding Hawkmoth in the house somewhere or something?"

"I don't know," Tikki replied, looking troubled. "It could be just normal corrupt businessman dealings, but who knows. It wouldn't hurt to take a closer look at Mr. Agreste again, just to make sure that that house isn't hiding any more secrets."

[bluezey]

How did we go from Rango to Sausage Party to Emoji Movie?

I’m not a fan of review videos right now cause they’re all taking stabs at Emoji Movie.  For one, I haven’t seen it, so I don’t want my view swayed.  And two, well, you don’t need to see it to know that it’s junk, it’s just pandering junk made for a quick buck.  But, today I was finally happy to watch a review, and it was an old review of Caddicarus spoiler-free reviewing Sausage Party.  Last year, we had Sausage Party, so should we not be that surprised we have Emoji Movie?  Well, even without seeing Emoji Movie, I have to say yes it’s surprising because even Sausage Party surprisingly had a point.  Yes, Sausage Party was meant to be raunchy and offensive and wtf, but then you see the film and not only do they own that end of the spectrum, but they make a plot about religion that’s not only another offense but serves a purpose, it made some points and even had a tacked on message about it.  So, should I not judge Emoji Movie because maybe it has a purpose outside of selling a product?  In my opinion, yes, because even with the “don’t judge a book by it’s cover” Emoji Movie does not look like my cup of tea.  I like animated films, I like cheese, but Emoji Movie does not look like my blend of cheese.

Oh, but Sausage Party is, I hear you ask?  Well, yes.  While I like animated films and even cartoons for kids, I also like adult humor, I like something smart for adults and something that’s plain candy mush for adults.  That’s why I like Rick and Morty, that’s why I like American Dad, that’s why I like Family Guy (to an extent), that’s why I like Moral Orel (to an extent), that’s why I like Squidbillies, that’s why I like Aqua Teen, that’s why I like most episodes of South Park, that’s why I like Ugly Americans.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I have a limit, so whenever I recommend Sausage Party to people, I also stressfully warn them by saying “when it comes to it’s raunchiness, you’re not ready, you may THINK you’re ready, but you’re not.”  I’ll even admit that I own a copy of Sausage Party unironically, but I still look away when it comes to THAT moment in the film (but thanks to tumblr gifsets I technically HAVE seen it, so... yeah.)

But I’m done rambling.  My point is while I have levels of adult taste and adult “lack of taste” I do have a fascination for adult animated films.  Partly because I have a fascination for the taboo, because let’s be honest animated films are still considered more for kids and families, and also because they’re few and far between.  When we weed out the sugary eye candy and the bullshit, there is a long and wide collection of good films for kids, but for adults we have... Felix the Cat... Cool World... that one film with that title I’m afraid to say... South Park... that one film Cinema Snob found about a duck... long story short, not many.

But, here’s an interesting trend, many of the adult rated animated films are made by Ralph Bakshi.  How do I explain Ralph Bakshi.  Well, Nostalgia Critic’s review of Cool World has a better description of the man, but in my words, he is a crazy, fascinating genius.  Clearly a big fan of animation and a big animation influence, but while many were making kids films, he was making something bizarre and different with animation.  Yes, he did kids films, but he did a Lord of the Rings film with rotoscoping and a fantasy film with swearing and Nazi imagery.  Yes, I’m not joking.  So, with that bit of insanity, how were his films he successfully made for adults.  He made Fritz the Cat, the first X rated animated film that’s also a porno.  And that film that I’m afraid to say the name of?  It’s about racial tension and stars Brier Rabbit, Brier Fox and Brier Bear in some kind of mafia underground.  Again, I’m not joking.  He was one of the many that knew animation was an art film, not a kids genre, but he was also one of the few that successfully made examples of it.  Despite some questionable choices he made, even in his kids films, all his cartoons had a level of smartness and a purpose, made the audience think and react.  All except Cool World, but see Nostalgia Critic’s review to get a good grasp on that story.

To almost switch tangents again, let’s briefly talk about another well known director, Gore Verbinksi.  He is known famously for the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, but did you know he is also responsible for an animated film?  Yes, 2011′s Rango was his doing.  Not only wanting to do a western and an animated film, but Gore Verbinski was quoted for saying that he missed films by Ralph Bakshi in the media and wanted to make a film much like it.  Woah, I hear you say, what kind of shit is in Rango if he wanted to make a Bakshi-esque film?  Well, overall Rango does sound like a kids film.  It’s about talking animals in the old west setting, and specifically we’re following a chameleon who goes by the name of Rango, who wants to become a hero, so he tries to save the town of Dirt from a drought, as water is not only a living sustenance but a form of currency to the denizens of the town.  Nothing that surprising yet, until you find out this film also has on screen drinking, drunkeness, smoking, gun violence, mild swearing (if you call damn and hell curse words), possibly two females of the town are dress as prostitutes so that may be their occupation.  And Rango, yes, that may not even be his real name.  He made it up because when we met him in the beginning of the film he is literally a blank slate in an existential crisis of finding his purpose in life.  Yes, I’m not joking.  Not only having some things that would make shelter parents flip like guns and tobacco, but this film has a surprisingly deep plot even for adults to grasp, and this film was meant for kids!  Even the world was not animated in a cutesy kids fashion, as the world was dirty and, despite half of the characters having out of proportion faces so they’d look aesthetically okay to look at, the characters look realistic as possible.  No smoothness, no fluff, just matted hair, scales and thorns.  Compared to other films that came out before and after it in the ten year time frame, this film was pretty gritty.

So, should we thank Rango for giving us Sausage Party?  With a big asterisk, I’d have to say, kind of, in a way we have to thank The Simpsons for giving us Family Guy.  These two films could not be any more opposite of each other.  Rango was smart and for kids and Sausage Party, while smart, was just raunchiness for adults.  But, no joking, I believe if we had an alternate reality in which Rango was not made, we would not have Sausage Party.  Let me try to explain why.  Like all evolution, we can’t just take a running leap, we need to take steps or even half-steps to get there.  And without Rango, the last step was the South Park movie back in 1999.  There was a big plateau in adult films between 1999 and 2016, so Rango in 2011 also had a purpose of being the half-step.  Yes, it was for kids and was technically inoffensive, but was also risky and challenging for having smoking, drinking, swearing and gun violence unapologetically in a kids film, like a Ralph Bakshi kids movie.  And, with Rango technically closing the gap even further by winning the Best Animated Feature Oscar in 2012, it closes the gap even further to four years between them and Sausage Party.  So, think of Rango as Ralph Bakshi’s film Wizards and Sausage Party as Ralph Bakshi’s film Fritz the Cat, and you can see some link between the two.  While Sausage Party is the adult film we love, Rango is the film that got us there by showing the audience that it’s okay to have “edgy” things in animated form on the big screen.  Yes, we have this in a way in kids films, but they’re just blips of adult humor in kid friendly fluff.  Rango had edginess and grit throughout, it tried to not only numb us but show us it’s okay.  Sausage Party was the adult version of this by making a full on controversial film for adults.

But now that we gushed about Rango and Sausage Party, how did we go from Rango, to Sausage Party, to Emoji Movie.  The short answer, because while some filmmakers are taking us forward, some are taking us back.  Like a knock off, anyone can find something popular and make a quick buck on it.  When Rugrats movie came out in the late 90s, studios realized that it’s quick and easy to make a film based on a previous source material because people can easily grasp on the source material.  When Shrek came out in the early 2000s, studios saw modernizing tropes as the next cash grab because we are familiar with the tropes and modernizing them made the film look “smart” and “progressive” without even actually trying to be.  And now, with The Lego Movie, we have studios believing that you can make a quick buck by grabbing onto nostalgia and just bullshit the rest of your way through.  The good news, My Little Pony Movie.  The bad news, Emoji Movie.

So, yeah, compared to 2016 that gave us Finding Dory, Kubo, Sausage Party, Sing and a few sprinkles of Minions and Mr. Peabody, 2017 is the flip side.  While we’re getting Coco, we’re also getting Emoji Movie.  Hell, even I wanted to see Power Rangers out of a nostalgic rush (and because Bill Hader was playing Alpha Five) and Cars 3 because it was NOT Cars 2.  Compared to films in 2016 where there was more good films with effort, 2017 has more okay to WTF is this S films with very little effort.  

Basically, I think this is just the trends of the time, and unfortunately the trends of good to bad films and films with effort and films with no effort are both in their downswing this year.  Think about it, 2015 gave us Inside Out, how did we get to Emoji Movie?  Or close the gap even further and you think how did we get from Sausage Party to Emoji Movie?  Yeah, Sausage Party was sophomoric and not for everyone, but even that film had a purpose.  Even Sing, for being nothing but predictable cheese, at least it was an enjoyable blend of cheese.  How do you make a product out of an emoji?  The silver lining we can take out of this is, with Rango, Inside Out, Sausage Party and the upcoming Coco, there’s at least people still giving a crap out there in animation films.  Hell, we can also see that with little shorts like Pixar’s Piper and even the art project In A Heartbeat.  (How messed up is it that In A Heartbeat is now grouped in with Emoji Movie and Sausage Party?  Seriously, I genuinely want to know.)

While animated films will have its ups and down, and clearly 2017 is the downswing, at least there’s some films showing that effort and progression will not die.  And with people as insanely genius as Ralph Bakshi, Gore Verbinski and, yes, Seth Rogen and pals, giving us Fritz the Cat, Rango and Sausage Party, not only will the challenge against the “norms” and the “quick buck” still be there, but we may end up getting another R rated animated film or two in the next few years, maybe even one that’s less raunchy and more challenging than Sausage Party.  I am not kidding when I say In A Heartbeat could be expanded upon into a pre teen romantic comedy “with a PG edge” as they would star a gay couple and even mention other challenges like coming out as trans, or just plain afraid to come out, or just plain bullying.  And the best part is, without it being R rated or full of sex puns like Sausage Party, an In A Heartbeat film can be seen by everyone (except if you have sheltering parents who still don’t get it).  But, I’m rambling on something good again.  In closing, with next few years giving us Incredibles 2, Wreck-It Ralph 2, Lego Movie 2 and even The Loud House Movie, I can see animated films having an upswing in the near future.  But, with upcoming films such as Gnomeo and Juliet 2, Angry Bird 2 and Boss Baby 2, we may still have to sort through the shit to get to them.

[dontbethatshank]

Hidden Beauties (part two)

A/N: The first part to this has Newt and Gally, this one will have Minho and Alby. I didn’t feel like including Thomas but if anyone would like me to just message me! Also - for this, please note that I am following the Maze Runner movies, not the books. You will understand if you have read/listened to the audio book or if you remember the more detailed descriptions of the first book.

Alby: When you came up in the box, the boys were obviously surprised. That was over a year ago. But what truly surprised the boys was the fact you never talked. Not even to say your name. The boys only ever learned your name once you wrote your name on the wall, as per tradition. The boys at first thought it kind of adorable, that you were just nervous - possibly even shy. But then three days went by... then two weeks... then three months.. then a year. And now here you are. Still silent. Still never speaking. And now, an outcast. The boys first tried to hit on you, maybe even flirt or be suggestive, but you would smile and brush it off, walking away. And eventually, the boys just found it weird. They all thought they could be “the one” to make you speak. But, never did you find a boy who was “the one”. You ended up working as a “helper”, mostly hanging around the homestead and with the animals, or sometimes even in the Deadheads. Alby tasked you with organizing and writing down what the Glade had, what it didn’t have, what it needed, and what it was about to need. The Glade was indeed the most organized it had ever been. The Med-Jacks now had all the supplies they could ever need, the Slicers had plenty of different knives that helped them to make better cuts, the runners had better supplies to run with, everyone just had an increase in comfortability within their spots in the Glade. You managed to get extra clothes and set up a system, cleaning the clothes every five days yourself. Alby sometimes joined you, just to get away from the boys. As sad as it was to admit, he joined you because he knew none of the boys really liked being around you. Even Newt tried to avoid you, your silence unnerving the patient boy who was used to diffusing fist fights on the daily. But Alby loved it. He enjoyed the peace. He would rant to you, talk about his problems, even joke around. You enjoyed it - it made you feel human. You even laughed. Once again, it was laundry time. You and Alby carried several buckets with you containing clothes, soap, and some rope to tie around a few trees for drying later. Once you organized everything into a few piles and got the buckets set up, you and Alby set off to work. Alby scrubbed the dirt and grime off the clothes in the water and then scrubbed them with soap while you then washed them off and wrung them out, hanging them up to dry. Alby’s anger showed through as he scrubbed the shirts, already putting a hole in one of the pairs of shorts. You smiled and walked over to where Alby was kneeling, setting your hands on his shoulders. Alby let his head hang down and sighed, putting the clothes to the side. You hummed softly, rubbing his shoulders, waiting for him to spill what was on his mind. “I just... I don’t know what to do, Y/N,” Alby sighed out, stuffing his eyes into the bottom of his palms. “I feel so... stuck. The boys seem to lose hope each and every day. Minho doubts that this Maze even has an end, Newt seems more depressed than when we first arrived... even Chuck is slowly becoming a dud, losing his hope... no one understands how hard it is to watch this happen. I feel responsible. They’re my family...” Alby said, his voice breaking slightly as he groaned quietly afterward. You continued to rub his shoulders, rubbing your thumbs into the base of his neck and down to where his shoulders meet. Alby shook his head. “Sometimes I wish you could speak. You seem like you could give them hope... maybe even be a better leader... Lord knows I’m shucking this up anyway,” Alby huffed out, his chest heaving with a deep breath. He reached his hand up, tracing one of your fingers lightly, just needing a small touch of reality to reconnect. “The boys couldn’t look up to anyone else the way they look up to you,” you hummed softly, “The boys take your resilience as power. And your power is your hope..” Alby sighed with a nod before he tensed up, he swiveled around and stood up, taking a step back to look at you. You smiled gently at him, reaching a hand out to grab his shoulder, giving him a firm squeeze. “I’m only here as a reminder of the peace you can have. I know the boys don’t... like me, really. But, you do. And I make you relax - which makes you a better leader. I’d follow you anywhere, any day, anytime. You’re a strong leader,” you stated, giving him an assured nod. With that, you turned, going to continue your work, but Alby grabbed you by your arm, his grip a bit tight and his eyes confused. “You... you can speak?” he asked incredulously. You just nodded, a small amused laugh leaving your lips. “Then... why? Why were you always quiet? The boys... you could have had so many friends here already... why were you so quiet for so long?” Alby asked, his eyes curious and also a bit sad. You smiled and grabbed his hands, looking at him with a knowing smile.  “I never spoke because I never saw anything worth saying. I only like to speak when my words have value... and no one here valued my words; only my body, my gender. But, you valued my ideas so I spoke up. I have spoken before, to the animals... that’s silly, but they valued my voice the most up until now,” you explained, laughing towards the end at yourself. Alby removed his hands from your grasp, his hands going on either side of your face, his fingers slipping into your hair as his thumbs lazily and lightly grazed over your cheeks, his eyes peering down at you. “I value everything you have to say... you’re the only one who can think about more than tomorrow around here. You enjoy today - you love eating fresh fruit and you love getting new animals in the box. I like that about you... Please, speak more. I’ll always value it,” Alby said, a whisper meant for only you. Not even the trees or stones could have heard him if they had ears to listen with. Your hands grabbed onto his sides, your arms sliding around his waist and hanging there lazily as you pulled yourself closer to him. “I know... and I’ll always speak my valuable thoughts to you. But right now, I don’t have anything else of value you to say,” you murmured back. Alby parted his lips to argue, insisting he hears your voice again, the sound he had already decided was his favorite. But you just smiled at him and shook your head, leaning towards him and pressing your lips against his. He smiled and held your face gently, your arms around his waist as you held yourself against him. He valued everything you had to say. But he valued your touch just as much also.

Minho: Coming up in a metal box surrounded by supplies and greeted by a group of hormonal teenage boys wasn’t your picture perfect idea of waking up on a Saturday morning. But, it was your reality. And boy, did your reality suck ass. Upon arriving, you were the biggest shock all the boys had yet to see - even beating seeing the Grievers and acknowledging they were basically living in a giant concrete maze of death. Yes - you were that much of a shock to the group of 40 boys. But what shocked them most, wasn’t that you were a girl necessarily, it was your accent. You were quiet, but when you started talking... Gally burst out laughing, Alby looked confused, Newt’s eyes were blown wide, and Chuck... well Chuck was still recovering from seeing a girl for the first time. The only boy who wasn’t a complete asshole was Minho. With a small smirk, he introduced himself, grabbing you by the shoulder and taking you on the grand tour. You had a thick, sweet southern accent. With Newt, everyone could understand what he said, but with you... it was a bit hard. You rolled your words together, your voice was husky as if you had inhaled smoke, and overall, your voice was just a blended accent littered with the vague sounds of words.  How you spoke sounded like another language. You dropped your “G”s, rolled your “N”s too long, drawled out the vowels, and often just grazed over the “R”s and “T”s. The boys made it a joke. Gally mocking your accent, the builders snickering along, even Chuck would tease you for it albeit he tried to in a nice way. The only one who ignored it was Minho. He would tease you whenever he didn’t hear what you said, but he never brought full attention to the subject. You appreciated that about Minho. Although you were a bit hard to understand, the southern in you knew how to cook. Even Frypan agreed you belonged in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. But he also loved to tease you about your voice - so ‘Frypan’ wasn’t the name you called him by. “Watch out there, Sig,” you smirked, Frypan shaking his head as he sighed at his name. It was one of the few ways you got to screw with the guys and get a little revenge. But on your days out of the kitchen, because yea Frypan needed a break from you every few days, you hung out with Minho, who tried to always take his days off from running around the same time you took your break from ‘Sig’ and the rest of the kitchen. The two of you would hang around the Deadheads typically, you would sometimes drag him to the gardens, enjoying being able to pick and choose your own food for whatever you were cooking that night or whatever you wanted to make for yourself if dinner wasn’t up to your liking. Today was one of your days off and you were spending it with the lovely Asian runner who held too much sass in his body. The two of you had fed the animals at the barn, helped pick some of the fresh vegetables in the gardens, and even visited the builders to see if they wanted any extra hands while working on the extension in the homestead. Now, you two had wandered off to the Deadheads, finding your sitting rock near the small stream that you two liked to occupy. Minho was yet again, making fun of Gally and the other builders who followed him around like a flock. You couldn’t stop laughing, shoving Minho telling him that it was mean, even though you loved every comment that came out of his mouth. “I mean, come on! How stupid does a shank have to be?! They all follow that big meat head around as if that’s their job in this place instead of actually building,” Minho said, rolling his eyes, a grin creeping back onto his face as he heard your joyous laughter. “God, I love you,” you grinned, but it slowly fell,”you’re the only one who, ya’know... doesn’t make fun of me.” Miho looked at you, an eyebrow raised quizzically. “What ever in this shucking world could they make fun of you for?” Minho asked, a serious tone laced within his words and even more so in his expression. You paused, your mouth moving and trying to form words until Minho broke into a smile. “You shuckin’ slinthead fucker,” you yelled, smacking him upside the head, laughing loudly. “I was being serious,” you smiled at him, your hand grabbing down and lacing your fingers together with his. You and Minho became an unofficial thing not long after you began spending your days together. He hadn’t officially asked you to be his girlfriend, and you hadn’t officially claimed him as your boyfriend, but all the works were involved with it. Minho let go of your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, kissing your forehead as he let out a deep sigh, his other hand on your thigh as it lazily rubbed circles into your knee. “You know, Y/N, I love your voice,” Minho said thoughtfully. You looked at him, a pitiful smile on your face. He had said it before, but all you could think was “obligation”. “I love how you seem to not know how to pronounce ‘g’s. Or how ‘r’s are just a glaze on the word as if they don’t really matter. I love, love, love, how you say my name,” Minho said, leaning down towards you, whispering into your ear as he said the last bits. You blushed and shoved at his side, causing him to laugh. “Min-oh,” he said, trying to copy your accent. “Like, you just sigh out the last part, a swirl of a sound dropping from your mouth, I love it,” he said, looking down into your eyes, his voice softening once more as he said each word.  “I love how my girlfriend speaks,” he whispered. Your eyes widened and a large grin cracked onto your face. Minho smiled gently at you, his hand that was previously on your knee now cradling your cheek as his thumb glanced over your bottom lip. “Really?” you whispered to him, your grin never faltering as your eyes looked around at his, searching for some sort of joke you just weren’t in on yet. “Yes, Y/N, I love how my girlfriend speaks, even if I can’t understand the difference in half of the words you say... I love it because it’s you speaking, and as long as your lips are moving, I’m listening,” Minho smiled at you, leaning forward to kiss you. And, yea your accent was probably thicker than fresh maple syrup, and yes, the boys probably just ignored you when you spoke instead of trying to understand what you said to begin with, but that was fine with you. You got to talk to Minho, and that was the best part. Because even if the other boys didn’t want to listen to you, you only wanted Minho to understand anyway. You were happy with your thicker than thick accent and your sweet southern sway to life in the Glade. And Minho was definitely a fan of it as well.

[stacks-reviews]

New Releases 6/27/17

Happy New Release Day! This weeks consists of robots in space, everyday life of a fledgling superhero, a trip across Europe, a power called Geass, a class made of assassins, and more.

In Books --The Adventures of a Superhero Girl by Faith Erin Hicks “What if you can leap tall buildings and defeat alien monsters with your bare hands, but you buy your capes at secondhand stores and have a weakness for kittens?” The everyday tales of a super girl as she saves people, as she updates her family on how she is doing, and as she tries to keep a part-time job but forgets to remove her mask before work. With an arch-nemesis who’s only superpower is letting our hero know she is doing the superhero thing wrong. This particular version of this graphic novel is a expanded edition. It was originally printed in 2013 but has been reprinted a few times since. This edition will include two new stories and new art. I have never read it before but I really wanna give it a try.

--Descender volume 4 by Jeff Lemire, artist Dustin Nguyen One day giant robots appear out of nowhere bringing death and destruction across the galaxy. As a consequence all robots are now outlawed and are hunted and destroyed by bounty hunters. Ten years after the attack an android named Tim-21 awakens to find his home destroyed and the human boy he was bought for gone. Tim sets out to find his human along with his robot dog and a mining droid. But Tim will be hunted down as his robot DNA might just reveal how to defeat the giant robots if they ever return. I love this series. This is probably my favorite release for this week. I started reading this series early this year. It is very good and the art is amazing. Dustin Nguyen did a wonderful job with the watercolor. There’s a great cast of characters but Tim is probably my favorite character. I would definitely check it out. I recommend it to everyone that I help in the graphic novel section at work. If you love robots, robots in space, and the exploration into what defines being human (there’s rogue robots who just want to live instead of being destroyed and will fight back) then read Descender.

--The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee I first wrote this down to research it because I was imagining the worst. I was thinking something along the lines of, ‘they are not publishing a book that says treating women in such a way is okay’. But then it became so much better. Henry Montague’s days of pleasure and vice; with both men and women, are rapidly coming to an end. His father is going to force Henry to start taking care of the family estate. As a final hurrah, Henry invites his best friend and secret crush; Percy, to travel across Europe with him. When one of Henry’s reckless decisions sends him and Percy into a manhunt it will have Henry questioning everything he knows. Including his thoughts about the boy he secretly adores.  The description of this book did not go at all the way I was expecting. I’m really excited to give this a try. I love everything about it already. As long as it doesn’t end up supporting treating people like crap, basically. 

--Land of the Lustrous volume 1 by Haruko Ichikawa The Lustrous are crystalline lifeforms; each gem has unique powers, who are hunted by a group called lunarians who would turn the Lustrous into decorations.  I mostly want to read this cause I immediately thought of Steven Universe when I read the description. 

--The Waking Land by Callie Bates Lady Elanna Valtai is fiercely devoted to her King who raised her like a daughter. But when he mysteriously dies, Elanna is accused of murdering him and must flee to her homeland full of magical legends. And to her birth father who was branded a traitor. Now she must confront the powers that have stirred within her and seem to grow as she connects to the natural world. Now Elanna must stop the threat that has chased her to her homeland and rebel against the kingdom she once called home. It reminds me of Uprooted by Naomi Novik and I really enjoyed that book.

In moives/tv shows --Assassination Classroom S2P2 The conclusion of Assassination Classroom is finally out today. The truth about Koro-Sensei will finally be revealed. But once Class E learns the truth, will they be able to assassinate the best teacher they’ve ever had? If you haven’t seen this series before or haven’t read the manga yet, you should. This series has had surprisingly good character development. When I first started reading the manga I thought it would just be this silly series but then it became so much more that just silly. It’s a really good blend of comedy, action, and can be very sweet. I haven’t seen the anime yet; although I own the first season, but from what I’ve seen and heard it follows the manga very well.

--Blue Exorcist Complete Box Set (blu-ray) For the first time the hit anime is out in a complete box set. Twin brothers; Rin and Yukio, were raised by an exorcists named Father Shiro Fujimoto. One day their home is attacked and Rin finds out his biological father is Satan. In order to avenge those that were lost during the battle Rin decides to train to become an exorcist in order to defeat Satan. Blue Exorcist is a really good series if you haven’t seen it yet. I’m not sure how well it follows the manga though. I think the end of the first season was different from the manga but I’m not 100% positive. I did flip through some of the volumes when season two started and it looked like the first part of S2 followed the manga pretty well. The set does cost $159.98 but the first season is available for streaming on Netflix and both are on Crunchyroll.

--Code Geass: Akito the Exiled The OVA series of the hit anime Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion. It’s five episodes but each episode should be around 50 minutes. Characters from the series will make an appearance. I’m really excited for this release but all it has made me want to do is to rewatch the original series. Characters will be returning for this but I’m not quite sure how or what part they will play. 

--Panda Go Panda (on blu-ray) A little girl who lives with a Panda and it’s baby. I didn’t know much about this title until it was mentioned in a panel at a con I went to this year. Afterwards, I found out that it was getting a blu-ray release. From what I remember our main character either thinks that PapaPanda is her father or PapaPanda offers to become her father while her family is away. Throughout the town tries to let her know that her Papa is a panda and the police and most the town try to catch them. It looks really cute. It’s only 80 minutes long. It’s two episodes.

--Sea Prince and the Fire Child (on blu-ray) One long ago fire spirits and wind spirits lived as one till one day the Lord of the Winds drove a rift between the Queen of Fire and her brother, the King of Water. Ever since then, the fire spirits and water spirits have been at war with one another. One day the Prince of Fire and the Princess of Water met and fell in love. Their only chance of living together means traveling to a distant star where fire and water spirits live in peace but they much reach the hill of Elysium by the next solar eclipse. 

--Sword Art Online Box Set (blu-ray) One of the top favorite ‘getting stuck inside a video game’ series around is now available in a box set. All 25 episodes with some special features. The blu-ray is $159.95 and the dvd set is $69.98 BUT the dvd won’t be out until 8/1. Personally, I am holding out a small, small hope that I might come across the limited editions of the parts. I have the first one but missed out on the rest. If I break and buy the set someday, I’ll probably get the dvd. Unless the blu-ray set happens to have a good sale someday. I’m in no hurry cause my heart still heavily belongs to .hack//sign. SAO has some great fight scenes but I have stronger feelings toward .hack//sign. 

--Yu-Gi-Oh Dark Side of Dimensions The original crew is back! Yugi and the gang are about to graduate from high school. Then trouble starts when a boy named Aigami arrives. He blames Bakura for the death of his mention; and former holder of the Millennium Ring, and it out for revenge. It’s up to Yugi to save Bakura and the rest of his friends. I managed to catch this movie when it came to theaters. It was great because I hadn’t seen Yu-Gi-Oh in a long time. Most of the original voice actors returned to dub it which I was very happy about. There was a minor change in a characters back story but it had been so long since I had seen the series that I didn’t notice it until someone pointed it out to me.

[faithandfairies]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y9Izu2hcnmA)

I believe

We did actually get a bit of an explanation as to why Peter Pan took children. Neverland was originally a dreamworld, meant as a positive place,  that children traveled to in their sleep, only to return home afterwards. Which tells me it was actually a place in their mind. Everyone’s version of it was different so everyone could get there. They just had to imagine what their version looked like based on the visual passed onto them through stories. It was never meant to sustain actual life for an extended period of time. I think the only reason Pan and Rumple could travel there for real is because they believed they could. Thoughts become things, right. And magical beans take you wherever you wish to go. They can even bring you back from a realm created by a wish.

But when Pan went to live there Neverland had to sustain him. Or he sustained it. But he couldn’t do it on his own. The land was built and ran on belief. In magic, in the existence of Neverland itself. And maybe because it was Pan's version of Neverland it also depended on children believing in him, his existence. So he could reach them. I keep thinking about Jack Frost in the Dreamworks movie Rise of the Guardians. And how he started to fade when children stopped believing in him. That is what Pan was afraid would happen to him. You only exist in someone’s world and carry meaning, value, to them, if they believe in you. Whatever that belief is. The worst thing someone can feel toward something or someone else is indifference. That is why Emma’s belief in Regina as good and kind is so important. Because it allows her to shed her Evil Queen image. The story she and others have been telling her about herself for the longest time.

In order for Neverland to continue to exist it needed more of that belief. Enter Henry. Pan started collecting boys because he was looking for a specific one. Somehow he came across the information that there would be a boy that fit Henry's description who would have the heart of the truest believer. The power of which could sustain Pan and with it the island. 

I feel like when Pan arrived the place stopped being every child's dreamworld, however they imagined it, and just became Pan's dreamworld manifested as an existing thing. But it made it unable to be entered by children in their sleep. Maybe that's also why the shadow had to physically bring children to Neverland. Stealing them away from their families forever which ended with Pan getting them hurt in his games, instead of helping them to escape from their lives and having their imaginations run wild for a little while. So basically, Pan's arrival turned something that was inherently good into something inherently bad. He basically turned every child's dream into a literal nightmare. Sure sounds like that could be the origin of the Dark Realm. A woman trying to turn a little boy’s dreams into nightmares. Break his spirit, making him grow up too fast, which in that realm manifested as a adult body in a short amount of time. 

Because that was the kicker to Pan’s Neverland wasn’t it? Neverland was originally meant to make children happy, to keep the child in them alive for as long as possible. It wasn’t meant to make adults run away from their lives. But Pan changed the meaning of Neverland. He ran from his adult responsibilities and then took children and made them grow up too fast, made them lose hope and gain despair and unhappiness, all while they still looked like children. These kids essentially became cynical, jaded adults trapped in children’s bodies that had the visible scars and deformities that spoke of a hard life. And they could never leave nor did they die, unless they were killed. That sounds like a curse to me.

But what they never told us was how Pan came across the information on the boy, a sketch of Henry. I mean, it does make sense given that Henry's the grandson of the son Pan gave up so he (Pan) could live the life he wanted to. A son that I imagined stopped believing in him after he was abandoned. Even Bae, Rumple's son, spent time on the island. A boy Pan also really wanted. It also makes sense that it's Henry because Henry believed so much in his own biological mother that she went from the woman that abandoned him to his and an entire town's savior. Emma may have become the savior because Regina was the  Evil Queen. But I think Regina was only the Evil Queen because Henry believed her to be. And Emma became the savior because Henry believed he needed one from the Evil Queen. This is Henry's story, Henry's world. Henry's Neverland, if you will. It’s also why only his heart could power Neverland. And that is the one thing Pan couldn’t force. It had to be Henry’s choice to believe. It always comes down to him. 

Regina only "remembered" she was the Evil Queen when she came across Henry's book which "reminded" her she was the Evil Queen. Or at least that that was how Henry saw her. In the entire first season Regina denies she’s the Evil Queen and repeatedly says that she doesn’t understand why Henry sees her that way. While we see stories of the Evil Queen play out so we believe it too. It isn’t until Emma literally violently lets Regina know she believes it too that Regina agrees. 

What I think it really was was that she was the Evil Queen to her son and since he was her world, his opinion was the only one that mattered to her at the time. Well, his and Emma’s. Because every villain needs a savior. People had probably told her crap about herself all her life and she had tried her hardest not to believe any of it and failed. And then her son had been the only one who believed in her. Until he didn't. Kids are like that, but if you hate yourself and base your self worth on how much your kid loves you and how well he turned out, because he’s the one thing you feel you got right, then your kid making you think they hate you is the last thing you need. And usually not something you know how to handle. Now we find that Henry is actually the author of the book. It's like having a diary in which you make up horrible stories about your mom because you hate her. In his case because she was strict and hard on him and not good at expressing her emotions, including love, and so he secretly believed she didn't love him. And then when he found out he was adopted that gave him a reason for why she didn't love him. And a reason not to love her back (for fear of not getting it returned). And because he had someone else to find and love. Someone he believed would return that love unconditionally. Henry wanted Emma to be part of his world.

Regina became the Evil Queen to Henry because of what she was like and how he interpreted her behavior. And then he eternalized her that way in his writing. The Evil Queen flashbacks we keep seeing, probably partly based on what Henry knows about Regina’s life and how he interpreted events using his fairy tale world. For instance, Regina probably having a knockdown drag out fight with a boyfriend (that had maybe, possibly, started to develop feelings for a comatose patient and maybe, possibly even tried to act on those feelings as Regina walked in?) leading to her showing him the door, firing him and threatening other aspects of his life, being portrayed as her violently crushing his heart. 

Emma became Henry’s savior because he needed one and who better to save you than your "real mom"? Emma started believing she was the savior when Henry got sick and she needed to figure out how to get him back to health. And when she started to think he wasn't safe with his adoptive mom and started thinking about getting him away from her. Emma was never "the town's savior", she was Henry's. Trying to save Henry from his mom, only to realize that maybe Regina was the one who needed to be saved from the negative image and opinions she herself, her son and everyone else seemed to have of her instead.

But I think the secret of being the savior is really that only you can save yourself. No one can do it for you. People can help you, guide you, hand you the tools, the advice, they can believe in you, but they can’t do it for you. Or they’ll have to keep doing it forever. And it never ends. It has to be you.

(So the show’s world would be a combination of Emma’s wish world, what she wished she could do and be to this little family of hers and the people she wished she had in it, combined with Henry’s written world (his hopes, dreams, wishes, but also his interpretation of real past events). Not to mention Regina’s stories told to Emma about her actual life and her own wishes. And of course, actual reality. All blended into one on-going, messy, confusing story.)

It’s also interesting to note that the only other author we’ve ever met on the show is Isaac. I think his name was Isaac? I always feel like his name was Sebastian. Anyway, he was originally a guy looking for a sensational story. Like say, a reporter? He also said he loved writing for (not about) Regina, she was his favorite character to write for. And he also did recreational work on her story. So making stuff up. I’m starting to think that at one point in time when Regina was younger some reporter wrote a piece on her and/or her mother, most likely with her help. A piece that didn’t place her family in a positive light. We’ve seen how manipulative Isaac could be to get the story (to go) the way he wanted it to. I wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow influenced/changed (the facts of) Regina’s life the same way to fit his narrative. So that would make sense as being the first written record on Regina. Aside from Disney’s version of the Evil Queen, where I’m guessing Henry drew inspiration from. I think Cruella’s story also gives us some insight. The most important thing I believe being that Cruella was believed to be a cold-blooded killer until the end, only she eventually couldn’t actually hurt a fly. Everyone just believed she could. But we also know while Regina can and has been manipulated repeatedly, she can also manipulate like the best of them. So what is the truth?

The Dark Swan wasn’t kidding when she told Hook that the truth is tricky. You have to look for it.

They also never told us about the shadow Pan encountered when he first went to Neverland. Where did it come from? Was it truly Pan's shadow? Or not? Why did it help Pan after clearly telling him that he shouldn't be there? We also never found out why shadows were pulled from adults. In order to kill them. And why when Emma was in Neverland the shadows went after people like Greg, Hook and Neal. Not Emma.