#i wish swimming pools were easier to access...

[carrionmansion]

Cleaned up my room so I can play beatsaber and goooood I'm so out of practice

[ourgeekrealm]

Welcome to our first blog post featuring Haven Weymouth Bay Resort! Let me know if it was helpful and if you have any questions at

Having stayed at Pontins (That’s a whole story in itself for another day) and Crealy last year, our introduction to self catering UK holidays was greatly mixed so we headed to Weymouth Bay Haven with relatively low expectations and were pleasantly surprised….

Accommodation

So let’s get the bad out of the way as finding moths under the kids beds and the previous occupants swimming knickers on the sofa were not the greatest introduction to caravan life but credit where it’s due; Haven have a free app that you can download for quick check in, reporting any issues, booking activities with a downloadable park map https://apps.apple.com/gb/app/my-haven-experience/id1517363519

Using the app, we were able to log all issues that were dealt with within 2 hours by 2 friendly, empathetic cleaning ladies… we popped out for a swim and returned to a sparkly clean, spacious, surprisingly modern caravan.

We, specifically were allocated Windsor 18, there is an option to choose your own spot prior to check in for a fee. As we had never been we just went with the Haven allocation and was pleased with how close to the main facilities, restaurant and pools we were located, it was around a 10 minute walk to the sports field for the outdoor activities.

The caravan has 2 bedrooms and bathrooms, which I wasn’t expecting as the floor plan only showed 1 bathroom, so make sure you bring 2 floor towels if you have booked a Silver caravan. This with 2 young boys was a pleasant surprise but if more than 1 person wants to shower, you will still need to wait as the temperature and pressure can drop quite low.

We had ample room within our caravan for self catering, full sized fridge/freezer, oven/grill & extractor, but make sure you bring dishwasher tablets as I wasn’t expecting a dishwasher and no tablets are supplied. There is a decking area to the front, accessed by sliding French doors and a small grass and patio area to the side of the caravan but the sun was a little fleeting here, may be better in the summer when the sun is higher but as we were out a lot of the time, it didn’t really effect us.

Facilities

There is another Haven park next door called Seaview, however we chose Weymouth Bay as the facilities seemed better, especially the outdoor lazy river pool. It is not open year round but thankfully we had beautiful weather so both pools were open. The indoor pool isn’t huge but as it is managed through a booking system that staff keep on top of, it didn’t feel overbooked or too busy at any time, both pools are heated to a comfortable temperature and our children enjoyed their daily swims. Prior to arriving you are allowed to book up to 10 swim slots (1 slot per person) but on arrival, you are able to book additional slots if you wish. There is also a pool shop which sell armbands, floats, goggles etc and was extremely well priced.

Adjacent to the pools are the reception, owners lounge, restaurant, arcade and large play park area. Haven have another free app that you can download to order food & drinks to your table, https://apps.apple.com/gb/app/haven-serve/id1457311497

however the app doesn’t show correct pricing or the full menu, I thought the cocktail deals looked fantastic at just over £10 a pitcher but upon ordering, the price was nearly £20 a pitcher instead so quite the difference, I raised the issue with bar staff but they said they had no control over the app and it had been reported to Head Office.

When he had ordered food and drinks, it was well priced and tasted good, my partner ordered the big burger and it was literally the size of our 3 year old’s head so great value. The chocolate fondue dessert was delicious, we ordered 1 thinking we may need another to feed the 4 of us and it was ideal so another great value dish. Yes, we have had better meals but for the price paid, location and proximity to the large play park, it suited our needs perfectly.

The play park is modern with an array of slides, climbing frames and swings set within a sandy zone for the little ones and play bark area for the older children, however both areas are great for all ages with our children spending hours here over the 5 days.

The arcade has a varied mix of games for varying ages and budgets, many of the machines give out tickets which my children loved collecting and cashing in for lots of sweeties and toys at the end of our stay.

There are so many activities available, we weren’t able to fit them all in during our 5 days but our boys managed to do: Ball sports - football, rugby and basketball, Dodgeball, Archery and Crazy Golf.

Both boys also enjoyed being Wild Wizards; making special wands and potions from items they collected within the woodland area and doing the mini aerial climb, where they were harnessed to a low level climbing course. Our 7 year old had grown over the 1.2m recommended height during the time of booking, he still enjoyed it but definitely more suited to under 6’s.

The highlight of all these activities for our boys was Ranger Chad, Chad was friendly and kept the boys interested throughout all activities with his laid back but in control style. He even lent us a butterfly net to rescue our football from a river and our boys fondly call it chads net as he let us keep it.

Locale

A short 10 minute walk from the ball field area, brings you to Weymouth Bay Beach, we are avid walkers so walked many hills and surrounding areas but there are flat buggy trails for the less adventurous that take slightly longer.

Weymouth Bay is a shingle beach but has all the local beach amenities you can need, including mini theme park, restaurants, cafes, bars and most important to our boys, an ice cream bar! However, if on a budget, the ice cream on the beach is considerably cheaper and delicious, you can also hire beach chairs for £5 a day here. There is also a tourist shop selling souvenirs and seaside paraphernalia, the beach is shingle so not many sandcastles being built but our boys still loved digging, building rock castles, skipping stones and playing in the water.

If you pop in the car, or the bus (there is a bus stop outside Haven with excellent links) only a 5 minute drive away is Weymouth Beach, we didn’t go to the sandy part so I cannot comment on this but enjoyed a couple of mornings at the Sealife Centre and Sandworld. The Sealife centre doesn’t have the largest selection of fish, especially sharks (to my youngest’s dismay) but it was the best Sealife we have been to with outdoor play space, water park and general theming. The restaurant serving pizza was well priced and the pizza was delicious! All staff were friendly and knowledgeable. I will do a feature in the future on Merlin parks and businesses which will include Sealife as we make our way around the country.

Sandworld is a family run business with an interesting history, small but well priced, especially if you complete the optional quiz as the children were spending longer at exhibits than they probably would and learned so much about sandart. There are also multiple areas for building sandcastles and creating your own sandart. We were blown away by the talent and look forward to returning when artists come in the summer to watch them at work.

Summary - 4.5 out of 5

Haven offers a comfortable family holiday with as many activities and facilities you could ask for, with an active family on a budget, you couldn’t ask for anymore. Weymouth Bay has opened our eyes to reasonably priced caravan holidays, yes it was nice having a hot tub and luxury lodge at Crealy but the extra costs didn’t balance, we paid only £222 for our 4 night break in a silver caravan and have already booked to return next May half term and are looking at other Haven locations in the UK, the blight of brexit and covid on our airports doesn’t seem to be fading so UK, we’re happy to stay!

Book now at https://www.haven.com/parks/dorset/weymouth-bay

[hakesbrother]

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[spectral-musette]

She touched his face, fingertips light along his temple, nails delicately scraping through the short beard on his cheeks, lingering on the cleft in his chin before resting on his mouth.

“I thought…” she began, but then choked on a soft sob as the tears began to run down her cheeks.

“I thought you would be angry,” he said instead, nuzzling his cheek against her hand and then kissing the palm.

“I am furious,” she assured him, tenderly. “I am incandescent with rage.” Her lips were against his, her breath uneven in his mouth.

Directly following the Deception arc (Clone Wars Season 4 episodes 15-18), Obi-Wan asks for Satine's forgiveness for letting her believe he was dead.

Just over 2000 words, M in AO3-style rating, probably part of a longer work if I can ever finish it and think of a title.

. . . . . . . . . .

Obi-Wan had not protested very much when Padme offered him the use of her family’s lakeside retreat in the aftermath of the attempted abduction of the Chancellor on Naboo. He had, however, expected a slightly more modest structure than the sprawling villa he’d found upon his arrival. Despite the droids on staff, the place seemed empty, hollow, as though it still echoed with the voices and laughter of a happy family. So fresh from his undercover work, he wasn’t sure isolation was the best remedy for his rumpled spirits after the ordeal, but arrangements had been made, and he supposed he could make the best of it for a few days.

In some ways, he was eager to leave Naboo. The memory of Qui-Gon’s death still cut like a keen-edged blade here. But perhaps that meant he should stay, to meditate on his old grief.

Painful as that prospect was, at least it sounded more surmountable than returning to a Temple that had been mourning him.

He’d have to, eventually. Anakin’s (justified) expression of betrayal and Ahsoka’s wounded demeanor still stung, and he didn’t look forward to repeating these painful scenes with other dear friends, with Luminara, or with Quinlan. But until the GAR red tape was untangled (at least a few days), he was still officially dead, and granted all the freedom of a wandering ghost.

He felt a little like the ghost of his old self after a quick swim as he climbed out of the lake onto the patio by the house. He sat heavily on the flagstones, still warm from the sun even as the stars were coming out. The constellations of Naboo seemed startlingly familiar considering the few times he’d seen them. The span of nearly 15 years felt short tonight. Perhaps it was the mere stubble of hair on his skull, shorter even than a padawan’s. Perhaps it was the ache of his old Master’s absence. He tried to ground himself in the present; as he toweled off his wet limbs, the ugly burn scars from his duel with Count Dooku shone pale in the moonlight, and his face still hurt from the dreadful biotech that had transformed him into the Mandalorian marksman.

It was always Mandalorians, wasn’t it? Proof that the Force possessed a sense of dramatic irony that the brethren of the woman to whom he’d lost his heart seemed to continually haunt him.

The guilt of it weighed like a stone on his chest. The mission had dragged on far too long for Satine not to have heard news of his apparent death. He had hoped it might all be resolved before… Well, it had been an unlikely hope, anyway. Padme almost certainly told her immediately.

There hadn’t been anything for it. To ask for permission to tell Satine the truth before the charade would’ve been tantamount to confessing his feelings for her. Had there only been the censure of the Council involved it might’ve been one thing, but any careless word to the Chancellor’s staff could’ve proven disastrous for Satine and the gossamer-fine line she walked to keep peace and authority on Mandalore. He’d been keeping her safe even as he wounded her.

Just like the old days, pulling her out of harm's way, or shielding her with his body.

Only this wasn’t an accidentally scraped knee or bruised arm. Perhaps it was vain of him to assume, but he knew how deeply she cared for him, how intense her feelings ran…

He’d tried composing a message to her so many times. Even still in the guise of Rako Hardeen, when he caught a moment’s rest, he’d gone over it in his mind, lulling himself into an uneasy sleep as he tried to find the words to ask her forgiveness.

In the end, a forthright Forgive me, was the best he could muster, hastily sent to her private channel as soon as he’d gotten access to a comm unit at the conclusion of the charade. If you’ll listen, I’ll try to explain, but nothing will excuse what I’ve put you through. Know that I am so very sorry.

She hadn’t replied. He checked the comm unit again as he pulled his undertunic over his head, the rough linen soaking up the last of the lake water on his back, seeing only his own message, stark and insufficient.

He didn’t blame her, truly.

He’d slept since sending it, through the afternoon, reveling a little in the luxury of resting when he felt tired, regardless of the local daytime cycles. And he dreamed in disjointed flashes, mostly of her… her grief, her melancholy, her ire… of the glint of tears on her dark gold eyelashes, the quaver of anger in her beloved voice.

He wasn’t sure if he ought to just sleep again, now that night was here. Weary as he was, he felt he could sleep for days.

He heard the door from the house to the patio open. He didn’t look immediately, as it seemed likely to be one of Padme’s droid caretakers, there to ask if he required food or clean linens. But there was no whirring of servos, and the footsteps on the flagstones sounded too soft. He caught a whiff of an achingly familiar floral scent just as he turned.

She must’ve been too much in his thoughts already, his mind too clouded with guilt and regret and weariness to clearly sense her presence.

But Satine stood, silhouetted by the dim illumination of the house, resplendent in the scarlet gown she’d worn the night they’d met in secret on Coruscant, though her hair was loose about her shoulders, pale and shimmering in the moonlight. For a moment she was utterly still, then she merely raised a hand to her mouth, stifling a soft gasp.

He scrambled to his feet, keenly aware that this was not the state in which he wished to appear before his lady. His trousers were still sopping, his undertunic open to the navel, and his hair had barely grown in longer than the stubble on his jaw. But her eyes were only on his, and shining with tears. She took a few steps towards him, then swayed a little. He lunged to catch her around the waist; the last thing she needed on top of all the rest of the suffering he’d caused her was bruised knees. She twined her arms around his neck, and his knees gave a slow surrender too, such that the pair of them sank to the flagstones, wrapped in each other’s arms.

She touched his face, fingertips light along his temple, nails delicately scraping through the short beard on his cheeks, lingering on the cleft in his chin before resting on his mouth.

“I thought…” she began, but then choked on a soft sob as the tears began to run down her cheeks.

“I thought you would be angry,” he said instead, nuzzling his cheek against her hand and then kissing the palm.

“I am furious,” she assured him, tenderly. “I am incandescent with rage.” Her lips were against his, her breath uneven in his mouth.

He tasted it in her kiss, a fleeting note of bitterness and sorrow amid the heady sweetness of her relief and joy, the fire of her desire.

“I am so very sorry,” he repeated, abject.

“Oh, I hope so,” she replied, breathless.

As usual, Satine had the last word, as neither of them could speak for some time after that.

. . . . . . . . . .

She lay on her side, half propped up on her elbow, her head against the pillow and her hair spread across it in a tangle of pale spun gold. The bedclothes were pooled around her waist, and he deeply felt the intimacy and vulnerability they shared in that moment. He thought this image of her would be vivid in his mind for the rest of his days, however long that might be: the pale morning light on her bare skin, her flushed cheeks, the glint of unshed tears in her eyes, the soft swell of her breasts with her sharp, uneven breaths as she tried not to cry again.

Finished with his abridged account of the awful ordeal, he reached out to run the backs of his fingers along her arm.

“Say something,” he begged.

She sat up a little more, her hair falling across her face as she wrapped her arms around herself and turned away from him.

“It might be… easier to accept, if you’d done it for the sake of someone … worthy of all this pain. To protect Anakin or Ahsoka or Padme or…”

“Satine, I can’t decline a mission to protect the Chancellor simply because I dislike the man.”

“It isn’t a matter of dislike. There’s something… so… wicked about him. Manipulative and scheming. Don’t say it’s because he tried to put troops on Mandalore, and don’t you dare say it’s because he’s a politician.” She turned back to him, her gaze challenging.

“No,” he agreed prudently. “I won’t say that. I don’t disagree with you. He’s been a mentor to Anakin and to Padme for as long as I’ve known him, but I can’t help thinking it’s always been somehow for his own benefit. He steered Padme to get himself elected in the first place, and his grip on the office has been white-knuckled since. I can’t very well blame him for the war, but despite his lipservice towards peaceful resolution, the GAR keeps swelling its ranks.”

“I’ll blame him. Unfortunately, there’s no evidence to confirm it aside from my gut feeling.”

He placed a hand on her waist, his thumb tracing around her navel. “I’ve learned to trust your gut feelings. But dislike him, distrust him or not, my duty is to the Republic.”

He started to pull his arm back, but she gripped it by the elbow. He slid his hand to the small of her back, pulling her closer.

“What of your duty to me?” Her voice was quiet, but not without a note of beskar.

“Is it duty?” he asked. “I thought it was love.”

“Perhaps it’s very Mandalorian of me,” she said, “that we hold our most sacred duties to be to those we love.”

“Satine, I cannot put my devotion to you above the will of the Council or the good of the Republic. Not while I serve the Jedi Order.”

He almost expected her to pull away in anger or distress, but she shifted closer, pressing her face against his shoulder. “I know that. I’ve always known that. But it hasn’t hurt like this before.”

“Not since I left?” he suggested, burying his face in her hair and holding her tightly.

“No. Not even then. It wasn’t losing you, it was letting you go. This was… like I had died too.”

The guilt of it made his stomach turn. “I am so sorry, Satine. If there had been time to find another way… to spare you this…”

“The worst of it is that you knew how it would hurt me,” she accused. “And you still did it.”

“I knew,” he confirmed, regretful. “The Chancellor insisted on knowing everyone who was privy to the plan, and I had no time to even find the opportunity to disobey. I thought… the risk of revealing that you should be told…”

She let out a breath, hot against his skin.

“I think I’d have much rather run that risk than think you were dead.”

“If I’d had time to think it through, perhaps I’d have decided differently. But everything was snap decisions, and my instinct was to protect you.”

“And I can’t even be angry at you for that.”

“Of course you can be angry,” he soothed.

“Oh, what good does it do?” she demanded, lifting her head, fair brow furrowed. “Just wasting time quarreling when we have so little time together anyway.”

“Then you forgive me?” he asked humbly, kissing her forehead.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, stroking his cheek. “I know that I still want you, though.”

“Then I am yours,” he promised, kissing her fingertips.

“At least it’s not an offense that’s very likely to be repeated,” she reflected, shaking her head a little.

“Not very,” he agreed.

“I feel like I ought to extract some promise… some penance. But I expect you’ve punished yourself enough.”

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. “The thing itself was terrible too. Not that I’m suggesting that what I went through can compare to-”

“Hush, darling,” she scolded. “It can be terrible on its own.”

“Sometimes I thought my death might end up not being a lie after all,” he said softly.

“Do you want to tell me?” she asked, her fingertips light across his brow.

He shook his head. No, he didn’t want to see how it would pain her, to think of him in danger, forced to behave as an utter villain. “Not now. Not more than I already have.”

She kissed him then, deep and ardent. “Then forget, for a while,” she said, breathless, her lips still brushing his. “Let me forget again. Make me forget.”

She hitched her leg around him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he shifted onto her, into the blissful oblivion where she was the center of the universe and the Force sang in resonance with their love.

[tellmealovestory]

Something New (3/3)

Summary: You and Bucky cross another item off your list.

Notes: Still a little rusty, but I’m trying. Part of Something More

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI, swearing, smut, semi-public sex.

“Wanna make out?”

You glanced around the theater hoping no one else heard his question, but the closest person to you was a few rows in front of you playing on their phone. The blue white light a welcome distraction to the movie that was playing on the large screen.

“I thought you wanted to watch this?”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders and shifted around in his seat. His knuckles knocked against the cup of soda that was nestled in the holder between you as he dropped his hand to your knee.

“It sucks, I’m bored and you look beautiful in that dress, sweetheart. Can you blame me for wanting to make out?”

“You’re the one that chose it!”

“How was I supposed to know it was gonna be this boring?” He whined, toying with the hem of your dress before slipping his fingers beneath. His hand was warm on the bare skin of your knee and though his touch was innocent there was no denying that when his fingers danced a little higher sparks of electricity shot through your veins.

“I could have told you it was… was gonna be stupid,” you breathed, voice hitching when his hand slid higher still. Without looking at him you could tell he was smirking in the dimness, pleased with himself at the way he could get your body to melt and react after a few well placed touches.

He leaned over, warm breath drifting across your scorched cheek, hand lightly squeezing your thigh and when you shivered at his touch you were unable to blame it on the blast of cool air that rained down on you from the air conditioner.

“What do you say?” He prompted, lips pressing a barely there kiss behind your ear. “Make you feel so good, sweetheart. Could even cross something else off that list of yours while we’re at it…”

His offer was tempting. Maybe too temping. A thrill of excitement shot through you as desire pooled in the pit of your belly.

There was something to be said about hooking up in public where there was a chance of getting caught. And while you didn’t want to get caught knowing that you might was exciting. It had been why you’d put it on the list in the first place, but still, doubt and worry gnawed at you.

Chewing on your lower lip you shot another glance around the theater, doubt and lust battled for dominance before your gaze landed on your lap where you watched his hand move beneath your dress.

Tucked in the last row you were afforded a sense of privacy. The few people who weren’t paying attention to the movie were busy on their phones or had their heads bent together in whispered conversation. The only time anyone had paid attention to you was when the previews had started. Busy having your usual back and forth bickering about his questionable taste in movies someone had rudely turned around to shush you.

“Here?” You finally settled on.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know… I guess I always thought a dressing room o-“

“Baby,” he chuckled, interrupting you, “When have I ever gone clothes shopping with you?”

Ignoring him you continued, “Or an alley? Maybe the car?” After suggesting it you realized it wasn’t very original, but then neither was doing this in the back of the theater like you were both horny teenagers instead of adults who knew better.

“If you behave I can take you out back to the alley later, maybe finish the night out in the car.”

“Bucky!” You laughed, flinching when someone shushed you again.

His own laugh brushed against your ear, low and a little throaty the sound helped to ease some of your nerves over the possibility of moving forward. Tips of his fingers lightly stroked down your thigh before drifting upwards, but he didn’t make a move to go any further, simply tracing the same well worn path with his calloused fingertips.

Laughter rolled through the crowd and your eyes briefly darted up to the screen.

A beat passed and as if he could sense your hesitation he withdrew his hand. Immediately you missed the warmth and comfort, the familiarity and electricity his touch always brought to you.

Swinging your gaze back to him you frowned and he shrugged.

“You never said yes.”

“I didn’t say no either.”

It was a familiar conversation. One well worn like in the pages of a favorite book.

Making a split decision, one more based on lust and his promise of making you feel good rather than logic and maturity you grabbed his hand, slipping it back beneath your dress, higher than he had previously treaded. You stifled a smile when you heard him groan when his fingers touched the lace of your underwear.

“I want to,” you whispered softly, gaze lingering on his mouth.

“You sure?"

“Long as you promise we won’t get caught.”

Bucky smirked. “Only gonna get caught if you can’t keep quiet, sweetheart.”

If that was true then you were definitely going to get caught.

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but after giving him the okay he didn’t immediately dive in, instead opting to take his time in easing you into this.

Knuckles brushed against your covered core in time with his lips moving against yours.

A hint of butter and salt and when his tongue prodded at the seam of your lips looking to deepen the kiss an explosion of sugary cola danced on your tastebuds. Sighing against his mouth he swallowed your noises down and you didn't need him to tell you again how you had to be quiet.

In a matter of minutes you were lost in his kisses, melting into his touch enough so that by the time he pulled away and pushed your underwear to the side, one long, thick finger gliding through your damp folds you were more than ready for this.

Your earlier doubts about doing this in public were pushed aside.

Lust had won the battle.

"Watch the movie." The words drifted against your swollen and slick lips, not so much a suggestion as a command and one that left you shivering against his side.

Staring straight ahead with half lidded eyes you didn't bother trying to understand what was happening on the big screen, too focused on trying to be quiet and not get caught.

Warm breath against the corner of your mouth had your eyes fluttering shut and your legs parting on their own as his finger circled over your clit, teasing you into a familiar pool of pleasure.

Your hand clutched at the armrest, tiny whimpers escaping and when you turned your head to the side in an attempt to catch his lips in another kiss he shook his head, reminding you again to watch the movie, baby.

Only after you had done as he asked did he continue.

Circling his thumb over your clit your body jumped at the bolts of pleasure that shot through you. And when he pressed a kiss behind your ear, right at the spot that he knew always turned you to jelly it took everything in you not to call out his name.

Any attempt at keeping your eyes open and on the idiotic movie were forgotten about when he slowly slid a finger into you. Stroking your walls you let out a shaky breath as your legs fell open giving him more access to work you over.

You let out a low hiss when his mouth moved lower. The stubble from his beard scratched at your skin as he lavished your neck with open mouthed kisses and light nips.

“Bucky,” you breathed, body squirming in the oversized chair when he slipped a second finger into you.

Pumping his fingers in and out at a leisurely pace you were thankful for the loud action scenes that helped cover up the squelching sounds of his fingers moving so expertly inside of you.

“Like that?” He teased. You could hear the pride and smugness that laced those two words and if you hadn’t been swimming in the pleasure of him you would have told him to shut up.

Your hips bucked up when he curled his fingers deep inside hitting that one spot that made your mouth drop open and your mind wiped clean of any coherent thoughts.

Sucking a bruise into the crook of your neck you struggled to clamp down on your growing moans, but it was easier said than done when he pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit sending your back arching.

It was a good thing you were sitting down because when he gently scraped his teeth down the side of your neck your knees quaked.

“Bucky.”

Gliding his tongue down the same path his teeth had been only seconds before had your body growing taut, a strangled cry escaped a second later.

“Shhh, sweetheart, don’t wanna get caught,” he taunted, his words made your walls flutter around his fingers as he let out a low chuckle. “‘Less you do wanna get caught.”

It was impossible for you to verbally answer him when his thumb skated across your swollen bundle of nerves. With each stroke of his fingers you were growing ever closer to release, but the closer you got the more difficult it came to be quiet.

“B-bucky... I need... fuck.” Whimpers and pants escaped your lips, not a full sentence in sight as your chest heaved with each labored breath.

Taking pity on you he pressed his lips to yours in an attempt to swallow your growing moans, but it had the opposite effect. His kisses only made everything more intense, made you want him more, made you wish you had never added this to the list because there was no fucking way in hell you could keep quiet when his fingers were working you over this well.

And as if the asshole could tell, as if he was the one that wanted to get caught he added a third finger, the slight stretch delicious and now you knew there was no way you could keep quiet.

You couldn’t keep still either. Your hips wriggled, back arched, grip slipping on the armrest as your palm grew sweaty from the exertion of trying to stay silent.

“Please,” you cried, not sure what you were asking for. “I-I need...”

“You gotta be quieter than that.”

It was easy for him to say.

Biting your lip you shook your head back and forth knowing there was no way you could speak, not when that familiar ball of pressure was tightening.

“You can. You’ve been quiet before.”

Fuck.

His words were not helping.

And it definitely didn’t help when he nipped at your lip, smirk widening on his face as he pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek before moving his mouth to the shell of your ear. He hummed, shifting in his seat and you took slight pleasure in the fact that he seemed to be struggling now too.

“You can, you’ve been quiet before,” he murmured lowly. “Mm dragged me to that work party and we left early cause I couldn’t keep my hands off you. Remember that baby?”

You did.

Vividly.

You had still been in your friends with benefits stage, on the cusp of things falling apart before they got put back together again better than before.

Wearing a dress that had made you feel good you had only made it a few rounds through the room, just enough time to introduce Bucky to coworkers and to take a few sips of wine before he had pulled you aside with fuck me eyes and a wandering hand. Without saying goodbye you had both rushed out of the party, hailing a cab and hightailing it back to your place which had been closer.

You had felt much like you felt right now, horny teenagers who knew better.

A shiver went through you as the memory burned in your mind replayed.

You whimpered, head and body shaking when he pushed his fingers deeper inside you, teeth tugging on your earlobe.

“Yes you do,” he breathed, mistaking your head shake for not remembering.

God there was no way you would ever forget that night.

“Paid the cabbie extra money just to get back to your place fast as we could. Fuck, baby.”

You spread your thighs further apart, listening to the way his fingers easily slid through your wetness.

“Didn’t even make it to the bed.” He laughed, thumb pressing down onto your clit. Hell, you had barely made it into the apartment and past the living room. So wrapped up in each other you hadn’t noticed Natasha and Clint sitting on the couch, had barely noticed when she rolled her eyes and requested for you to keep it down, swearing she couldn’t handle another night of this.

“Had you spread out on your bedroom floor cause we thought it’d be quieter. Remember that? You wouldn’t stop begging for my mouth.”

Heat flooded your cheeks and you knew it was ridiculous for that to make you embarrassed given the fact he was currently knuckle deep inside you while a few rows in front of you people were actually watching the movie.

The memory intensified as your walls clamped down around his fingers.

“Bucky...”

“Yeah, sounded just like that,” he teased. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

Jesus this man was going to be the death of you.

Slamming your eyes shut you leaned your head back against the headrest.

“Fucked you so good that night, honey. Natasha had to keep turning the television up louder and I asked if you wanted to stop remember what you told me?” Bucky didn’t wait for answer. “Begged me to keep going. Had to keep kissing you to keep you quiet.

“I... oh.”

“Shh, honey.”

“Y-you made me cum so many times that night.” Saying the words out loud surprised you, but they were true.

After he had throughly ruined you, after you had gotten over your embarrassment and worry over your friends hearing you, seconds after you had cleaned yourself up he had been back on you, challenging you to stay even quieter this time as he had kissed his way down your body, showing you again just how talented that mouth of his was.

“Cause you were quiet like a good girl,” he cooed, knowing damn well what those two little words did to you.

The ball of pressure tightened and you knew it wouldn’t take much more to push you over the edge.

Bucky knew too.

Licking the shell of your ear he added, “And if you keep being a good girl, keep watching the movie and keep quiet I’ll make you cum like that again, sweetheart.”

You had never heard a sweeter promise.

There was no way you could keep watching the movie. There wasn’t much hope of keeping quiet either as the ball of pressure exploded.

Stars flashed behind your eyes and some small part of you had the foresight to bury your head in the crook of his neck. As your orgasm washed over you your body shook, toes curling as you focused on staying quiet and fighting the urge to cry out his name.

It was easier said than done.

“There it is,” Bucky praised. “Good girl.”

His fingers continued to stroke you, easing you through the after effects of your orgasm. When it became too much, the oversensitivity making you squirm you shakily grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand out from beneath your dress.

Your chest heaved, body limp and unwilling to untangle yourself from him he kissed the top of your head, whispering words of how well you did, of how much he loved you.

On screen music swelled, a few audible gasps rolled through the crowd and you couldn’t believe you had gotten away with this. Double checking that fact you exhaled slowly relieved to find no one paying you attention.

Lifting your head from the crook of his neck you kissed him slowly, one hand smoothing out and straightening your rumpled dress. Your foot kicked over the remaining box of popcorn. Salty and buttered kernels scattered across the sticky floor.

“That was... I can’t believe...” Still a full sentence wouldn’t come to your scrambled mind, but Bucky didn’t seem to mind.

The glow from the screen illuminated his features and once he was sure you could see him enough he lifted his fingers up to his mouth. Slick and coated in your release he slipped them past his pink lips, mouth wrapping around them as he cleaned them off.

Despite what just took place your mouth dropped open and you rubbed your thighs together.

In a second you were up and out of your seat. Wobbly on your feet you leaned down, hand encircling his wrist as you struggled to tug him up and onto his feet. He quirked an eyebrow and you didn’t care that the movie was still playing

“The alley or the car I don’t care, but I need you.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. Jumping from his seat he slung an arm around your waist as he quickly ushered you down the dimmed aisle and towards the exits.

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

The Joan Jett Quartet

Part 3: Cherrybomb (Klaus x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: NC-17 FILTHY! Light bondage, oral (fem receiving), pegging, use of sex toys, language, consensual rough sex, voyeurism

A/N: It had been so long since you and Klaus played your dirty little game of give and take. And The Prophet was yours for the taking. 

Part 1  Part 2

Dedicated, as always, with love to my most fatastic ride or die @robertsheehanownsmyass And also @slutforrobbiebro and @frogs--are--bitches

You adjusted the straps and hoped what was inside your linen pants was concealed just enough. At least until you were ready.

You took a few hours getting used to this appendage that hung between your legs. It was in the way for most everything you participated in during the day. So you stood with your legs further apart, or sat that way as well. You tried desperately not to reach down and adjust yourself for fear others might figure it out.

Suddenly, Klaus was beside you as you looked out over the swimming pool. He loomed so large over the Children, but could be completely human with you. That scent of hibiscus, gin and hookah smoke filled your nostrils as he wrapped you up in his arms.

“Jill is worried about you, little chicken.” Klaus used that stupid name from the night he punished you for insubordination. A pet name, one of endearment. Yet it had been so long since the two of you played.

“I'm fine,” You weren't. This.. thing in your pants was annoying. You had grown into it at least.

“She said you were walking funny?” his voice lifted at the end. “I can't imagine why. You've not needed to be disciplined in a while” It was if he read your mind. “I’d like to think I'm being gentle.” His face got lost in your hair and took a deep breath.

Klaus was telling the truth. These days, or nights, or warm afternoons, you made more love than fucked. He became almost obsessed with looking at you. Wanting a connection with someone to the point where he wouldn't pull out until well after he came. He would beg to be inside of you a little longer. If only you knew why YOU were Klaus’s special choice.

You pushed into him a bit with the curve of your ass. Klaus became instantly hard. A smirk played on your lips knowing how much control you had of the situation so quickly.

“Oh you have been, but I know you have certain appetites. As lovely as it's been, I can totally see in your eyes that flash of ‘please punish me.’ Which is tempting because this ‘tantric, cum together, lemme go four hours before I get off’ shit you learned in India annoying. Mediate all you want, but if I got my hands around your throat and just,” you mimed strangling him. “You would explode right in the middle of your stupid breathing technique. Then I’d get some feeling back in my legs”

Klaus enveloped you. Instead of a lover’s embrace, he compressed your body as much as possible. The air rushed out of your lungs as he squeezed tight like a snake with a mouse. His strength always caught you by total surprise. One arm around your chest, the other your stomach as he held you vicelike. There was that power switch. He hated being bested.

“I know pain makes you wet too,” his voice snarled. His hand tried to grab your sex to prove a point, but he got a surprise instead. His entire hand enclosed around the shaft through the fabric of your clothes. “My what a nice cock you have.”

You reached a hand behind and dug your nails into his hard on. “I wish I could say the same for you.”

Klaus’s hold deflated but not his erection. You urged him to stroke the imitation between your legs like you were doing to his real one. Your palms moved in unison as your breath both began to hitch. He tugged when you did, your bodies moving in a strange dance on the stone terrace.

Klaus turned your head sideways so he could get his tongue far inside your mouth. Fighting and doing a dance with yours while you gained speed with your hand.

“I bet you’re not even that good at sucking dick,” you broke the kiss to toss the insult over your shoulder.

You spun around and fought to take the wheel back. You reached inside and sunk your claws into Klaus’s balls. The only way you could think of bringing him to his knees as he winced with pain. Yet somehow grew even more stiff as he knelt down before you.

“Is this what we look like from up here?” Your fingers began to ravel around the hair on the back of his head. You yanked it so he was made to look at you. “eager to please the prophet with our mouths full. They're always begging you to speak, but choking themselves on your dick.”

Klaus put his hands on your hips. One of them inched under your shirt. He drew your hips towards his face and kissed your stomach. You let out a sigh before he released the imitation cock you wore.

Klaus was tentative about the way he licked at it. Just the tip of his tongue at first, darting in and out over the head. Then he sucked on it, took more of the shaft in his mouth. His head began to bob down towards your pelvis and back. The way he swallowed it as much as he could while he held tight to your ass. He alternated between long licks up the side and consuming it whole.

“It's a fucking shame I can't feel this. Doesn’t mean I don't want you to gag any less than you made me.”

Your hips thrust with a certainty that Klaus could feel the tip at the back of his throat. He was soundless though save for the soft sucking sounds. You started to fuck his mouth. The way he and other men had done to you. Your hips pumped back and forth. How much was enough when you couldn't climax like a man?

In a moment of clairvoyance, Klaus dragged his mouth backwards so that the imitation cock was slowly revealed. There was a satisfactory sound like yanking a suction cup off a surface. He gazed up at you with large green eyes silently asking you to further command him. Your fingers seizing his thick tresses so he couldn't look anywhere but you.

“How many nights have you worried about these.. morons finding out you’re a fake? That you admitted to me you were fraudulent. I love a fucking secret, and that's such a big one you trust me with. Would be such a shame if they found out.”

“You can't do that,” Klaus sounded afraid.

Yet you weren't sure if he was playing along or truly scared you'd out him to the others. Something in the back of his pleading let you know he would be relieved. To cast off the shackles of these expectant leeches he created.

“You could expose yourself to them another way. How human you would finally seem getting fucked up the ass by one of them. Your chosen one.”

Klaus climbed to his feet and pulled his boots off. He clambered out of his jeans, after he undid his belt and tossed his shirt aside. He stood in only his underwear.

You arched an eyebrow. “It's so amazing to me you can fuck the way you do,” you pinched his lithe waist, “Seeing there's not much to you.” You got your nails into his chin and tilted his head to the side. You let them trace a line along his jawbone. “Fortunately you've got quite the face. No one cares about the proverbs you spew or diatribes you go on. It's how fucking otherworldly beautiful you are. Gorgeous enough to just ruin.”

Klaus took a breath and rolled his eyes. Your hand tightened around his throat. “Don't you remember how obstinance is rewarded? All that bullshit yoga, you ought to be flexible. Fucking bend over, and show me.” You reached for his belt. “What are you always saying to me when you want anal?” You mimicked his voice, ‘Let's see how tight that ass is?”

Not having to command, Klaus held his wrists out. “Why do you still have clothes on? Naked.”

He obeyed and stripped completely. Being without clothes wasn't that big a deal to Klaus. He walked around the compound nude all the time. There were days most of you did. It's the having no control over his situation that really left him naked.

You took his arms and held them behind his back. You looped the belt around and hooked it through the buckle. You pulled the strap as tight as possible so that Klaus’s wrists were bound. His stance was wide legged, cock completely erect.

“Bend. over.”

And like Klaus had done to you when he assessed your body, you stood beside him and bent his body. His back flat like a table. You ran your hand along his tanned skin and spine before seizing his cock again.

“I lied. I might be a little.. terse with you, but I don't think I'm cruel,” you tapped your chin but kept Klaus’s erection firmly in your grasp. “I forgot something that MIGHT make fucking you a bit easier. You aren't exactly in a state to run to the house. So how about you fuck me first. With your mouth of course.”

You pushed Klaus’s head down to indicate he should kneel. Arms bound behind his back, he eagerly complied.

He sat back on his haunches to watch you undress. You wore only the strap on, which was lifted up to expose your cunt. Then you anchored yourself on Klaus’s shoulders. His mouth deftly finding your quick-swelling lips so his tongue could dart out. He probed you by pushing his tongue deep and forcing an instant slick from within.

You moaned. Klaus’s body twisted at an odd angle to get further inside of you. He lapped and flicked at you while searching for that bud of nerves and maintained his silence. There was a soft growl or two as he expertly worked your clit. Klaus circled it, tilted his head enough to run his tongue along you as you started to throb. He moved at a breakneck speed, one you never experienced from him before.

The pleasure was overwhelming as you reached to help Klaus along. Your fingers separated your slit so he had easier access to your clit now. Your hips rocked into him as you rode his face. Your balance lost a time or two but you steadied yourself in your abandon.

The two of you were so brazen in the setting sun. On the terrace knowing followers were around to catch or watch. Klaus with his wrists strapped by a belt. You wearing a fake dick, fucking his face. Your heart and cunt raced together as you started to spark. The fuse began to catch in the center of your body and suddenly it exploded with sparks as you came. Crying out unexpectedly so that your voice echoed off the stone.

“Fuck. What comes out of your mouth is sometimes so cliché, but the things you let me put in it.”

You fumbled around with the fake cock so that you could shift it towards your body. Klaus sat back and watched. His mouth and chin glistened with your orgasm which he surreptitiously attempted to lick from his lips. The devil in his eyes as he kept his composure.

“I don't think you have ever been this quiet in the two years I've been here.”

You situated the rubber dick enough to plunge it into yourself almost fully. It slid in with ease and out a few times. You repeated this enough to get it as lubricant as possible. Then wrapped your fingers in Klaus’s hair to yank him into position again.

“When I fuck you, I want you to tell me how good it feels.”

Your hand was on the tip of the cock to center it between Klaus’s ass. Your other wrapped up in the leather strap to help pull his hips towards you as you slowly plunged inside of him.

“Further,” Klaus managed around the air he finally released from his lungs.

“That wasn’t loud enough,” you informed him. You had his forearms in each hand as you sunk in more.

“Harder!” Klaus raised his voice more. “Fuck me.”

You tugged him backwards by the arms so that the strap on was sheathed by Klaus’s body. He yelled out in shock, so you hesitated in case..

“Fuck me. Hard. I want to feel your hips against my ass.” Klaus begged. He had his neck curved so that his head was facing up. And angle that would catch passersby.

You used Klaus’s arms as leverage. Creating a push and pull as you began slamming into him. How often did he rut against you like an animal when you got fucked from behind. Now you returned the favor.

It wasn't long before Klaus started to make an animal noise each time your pelvis crashed into his ass. Your nails clawed at his arms and tied wrists while you started to jerk your hips like you knew he did. Short bursts then pulled almost out and jerked back in.

“That feels so fucking good,” Klaus’s words were punctuated by your thrusts.

You weren't sure how much longer you could stand. You knew from Klaus that men got off differently this way than women. Parts of him inside were like a clit, but like you he maybe needed manual stimulation too. So you bent over him. You bit his back in the realm of playful crossed with marking your territory as you turned to jerking him off simultaneously.

“Holy shit!” Klaus yelled out. You were so lost in making him cum that you didn't realize he wasn't referring to your hands and dick.

Your gazed matched his to catch slack jawed followers on the sidewalk and patio on the upper level. Some curious, others blazed green with envy as you became theatrical with your fucking. The two of you looking them all dead on.

“What’s wrong?!” Klaus shouted in their direction. “Haven't you ever seen a prophet get ass fucked by someone?! And don't stop, I'm gonna cum.”

You trained your eyes on everyone, and stood. Your hands firmly on Klaus’s arms once more as you buried yourself into him one more time. His body arched and exploded. The sticky substance managed to cover his chest and stomach.

You situated yourself and took the strap-on off. Klaus straightened his body so that he was at his full height. He contorted enough to break free from the belt constraints. His body shook ever so slightly from the orgasm effects while he lifted your palm to his mouth and kissed it. Then bent to kiss you, tongue far inside your mouth. You could taste your cunt on his lips as you danced with him.

“This is what happens, Children, when you become my Chosen One!”

You let a selfish grin play across your lips in response.

Tag: @robertsheehanownsmyass @firstpersonnarrator @super-unpredictable98 @messengeronthemoon @nightmonsters @bisexualnathanyoung @rob-private @forenschik @magic-multicolored-miracle

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

i’m an idiot. i screw everything up.

Titans 3.03

still here, still doing this. these reviews take a fair bit of time that i cobble together across days (like, ten minute chunks during breaks, etc) and i tend to struggle to keep up with episodes as they come out. this means that by the time i’m done with one, most of my stuff is jossed (or geoffed in this case? idk) or outdated and the post sinks like a stone into oblivion. so! i’m going to change things up a bit with this one and write as i see the episode rather than collecting my thoughts later. in my experience with spn, that was a faster way to get them done. 

anyway. let’s see how it goes! *shadowboxes*

SPOILERS ahead.

1. an auspicious start with some grave-digging!

digging up a grave and breaking open a coffin is some serious, back-breaking work--that dick did it on his own, likely straight after that fight with red hood, is a testament to the sheer intensity, stamina and discipline that he’s capable of. like, we like to joke about dick cooking cauliflower crust pizzas and making gar and rachel spar and memorise sun tzu--and despair at the obvious consequences of some of bruce’s parenting skills--but imagine crime-fighting almost daily without any superpowers, performing some of the most intense parkour in bulky, uncomfortable armour, doing detective work, pushing through every last barrier of exhaustion and then getting up to repeat it all over again the next day. dick probably thought he was going extra-easy on rachel and gar.

1.5. then again, dick probably had a hundred different easier ways to confirm whether jason was still buried or not, from using equipment to merely asking connor to have a quick look with his x-ray vision. but, no, he’s too caught up in confusion and terror, not really having come to terms with jason’s death in the first place, leave alone the possibility that he could be alive after all. he can’t possibly let the others know until he’s confirmed it himself, even if it means digging all through the night until his arms are jelly, thinking over and over again about jason’s eyes, jason’s voice, from behind that red mask. 

... besides, dick has good reason to believe that he could’ve been hallucinating. wouldn’t be his first psychotic episode, after all.

that just imbues this sweaty, desperate, fingers-scrabbling-in-gravedirt scene with that much more poignancy, and a fair bit of bone-chilling terror. dick is horrified to realise that jason’s grave is empty, but a part of him is also probably relieved.

1.75 (... also it’s curious that we’re never shown any of the team asking to see jason’s grave after they come to wayne manor. i guess it’s because the writers--and the audience--know that jason is actually alive, but these people don’t know that. i don’t know if it’s sad or infuriating or both that they’re barely shown mourning him.)

2. oh GOD the sheer TENSION in kory saying, “i don’t want to say it, but--” and dick quickly interrupting, “it was jason. i saw him,” and hank giving him this loaded sidelong glance. i love how dick’s precarious mental health from last season is still this big elephant in the room but at least nobody’s blowing up in his face and questioning his every decision yet

2.25. i love the relative matter-of-factness with which they’re discussing a possible resurrection. and, of course, ra’s al ghul is brought up and quickly dismissed

(still wouldn’t put it past this show to bring him up at the very last second as the real real mastermind)

2.5. “maybe they can bring donna back” OH KORY

2.75. didn’t they have this same conversation about killing/not killing rose last season? man, the og titans make me tired.

and i don’t know if it’s just hank, but there’s a definite in-group/out-group vibe going on with the og titans, where they’re not only ready to consider killing anybody who threatens the group but makes it difficult for new people to fit in. donna and kory got along well with each other, but the dynamics between hank/donna/dawn and gar/rachel/rose were somewhat strained, and with jason, they were really fucking terrible. it makes sense when you think about how the titans started and how they broke up the first time--both were fairly disruptive events, i’d imagine, in that they probably got together to break away from their mentors and strike out on their own, and when they split up, it was the first time they felt directly responsible for the loss of an innocent life.

but the titans that dick is leading now is explicitly about mentoring a young generation of heroes, about second chances and found family. dick definitely wants to reach out to him first, and i have a feeling he’s going to be forced to make some sort of terrible Choice later on in this episode. 

2.8. (honestly tho, this also seems like hank struggling with his own guilt re: jason; if red hood is not the kid that he failed, it’d be easier to fight him.)

3.

HANK NO

4. honestly this season is already ticking off so many things on my wishlist, but i really wish dick would sit down with the newer members of his team and trust them with important information the same time that he’s telling them to the other members. gar searching for help and reassurance from a man who just dumped all of his responsibilities on his son overnight and went AWOL is a sad sight

4.25. has it only been just 48 hours????? wow! jason’s definitely been planning the red hood gig for a long time now...

5. ezekiel, my man! shady looking guy gets into your cab without a destination in mind... no problem, get right in! said guy gets a call to go to the observatory when he’s barely even looked out of the window so far at gotham... yep, a damn tourist! i want more ezekiel in this show.

5.25. (of course jason has upturned table lamps all along the floor... we have to *gritted teeth* balance the TEAL with the ORANGE don’t we?)

5.5. “dick’s a fucking psycho--he could be following you right now.” hank... has no objection to that lol

5.25. hank, hank... this is bad-decision-palooza. i can’t imagine that hank actually thought that jason was reaching out to him for help, given that the last time hank and jason had any substantial interaction hank had been one of the people accusing jason of sabotaging the team. but for him to go seek out jason and go along with his demands without any backup, weapons or equipment? not the best idea he’s ever come up with.

(add to that getting into the swimming pool of a condemned gym... oh yuck.)

((yes, i have enough self-restraint to not cap his ass.))

(((cap his ass! HA!)))

5.5. do you think jason has bugs/monitoring equipment planted in wayne manor to monitor the titans, or remote access to the cave’s systems? wouldn’t put it past him.

6. oh man, hank came back before dick and the others could meet ezekiel! this is TRAGIC

6.25. i mean, it’s plot-convenient that connor was able to give so much information about the bomb from just looking at it once, but i also like to think it’s the luthor-side of him coming to the fore. it also reminds me of that (in)famous scene from the new52 run of Nightwing comics, where a bomb was attached to nightwing’s heart and luthor disabled it by killing nightwing (temporarily). it’s a neat little callback. 

6.55. “where i come from, you go after family? there’s no mercy.” BUT THAT’S THE PROBLEM ISN’T IT

6.75. i mean, dick’s making sense: this is a game, and they need to get it off playing out on jason’s terms. but having a member of his team in his face, doubting his reasoning and every decision? a very familiar sight. 

6.8. krypto with an a+ sense of humour? also a very familiar sight.

7. wayne enterprises... providing the military with... bombs that can be implanted in humans? a BIIIIG yikes. i guess it’s not too many steps above developing clandestine intra-dermal trackers and implanting them in your own sons, and bruce probably thought they could be used as part of negotiation tactics, but still... YIKES.

7.5. on the other hand, conner being asked to build a deactivation advice seems part of a growth arc that started from last season... he knows so much, but part of growing is learning, and part of learning is using what you know to create something new.

8. oh man, my heart broke at hank going “i’m an idiot... i screw everything up.” like. for him to go like this, after being brought down to such a low last season? struggling with pain and addiction and his relationship with the love of his life? it’s so sad.

9. oh, oh, oh! ronnie from schitt’s creek! i love her!

9.5. “one of jason’s minions” took his body out of the morgue... how deliciously morbid that he planned out his own death like this!

10. TALK TO HANK, DICK

honestly, tho, i’m quite impressed with dick here. trying to think beyond just the most alarming part of the crisis at hand, keeping his cool, delegating tasks, frequently touching base with different members of his team... well done. 

10.25.... whoops, spoke too soon. i’m genuinely confused here, tho. where did the van full of gold bars come from? why did they stop there and get out? how did dawn even know about this?

on the other hand, it’s cool to know dove has bulletproof feathers!

10.5. eh... curran walters isn’t really selling red hood’s menace to me so far. but then again, if titans version of red hood is vulnerable-kid-with-father-issues-trying-to-overcompensate, then yeah! yeah, it makes sense. 

11. “when bats have sex, they gotta have something to hang from” OH GOD HANK

... because i want smiley!gar on my blog :)

11.5. awww. i feel sorry for hank but NONE of these fuckers deserve gar except maybe kory

12. ohhh FUCK! look at jason being exactly one step ahead of the titans at every turn. nice.

no really, i love the building stakes and the building mystery - i feel like the deathstroke arc from last season should’ve been more like this. the flashbacks about jericho and rose came too late and after too much build up, which resulted in a very underwhelming and confusing season throughline.

13. HANK AND DIIIIIICCCKKK

“you’re doing your best by me. always have.” WAILING HERE

it also kills me to think that hank thinks that his imminent death is because of his failure to keep the team together (when he was clearly struggling with his own issues and was spiralling towards rock-bottom) and his fear that he will once again be the cause of the team falling apart. 

also:

14. “i grew up... you can, too. you just have to face your fear.”

yep, got scarecrow’s grubby little fingerprints aaaaalllll over this. 

14.25. nightwing’s got specialised batarangs! yay! (somehow i can’t see this universe’s dick calling them “wingdings”)

15. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

oh man, that was devastating. well done, show. fuck, well done, jason.

this is going to bring up all sorts of “if onlys” for the team. i can’t wait for some fucking aftermath. 

[lideria]

Open Book. | Johnny

Request: Hi! 😊 Can I ask for a Johnny imagine wherein he finally had time for a solo vacation in some other country after his very busy idol schedules. Then he meets this girl who stays in the same hotel and also in her own vacation. Btw, I love your fluffy stories ❤

Author’s Note: I kind of really don’t like this, I kind of think it’s cringey but I worked on it so much that I want to publish its first version heheh I hope you it lives up to your expectations! Plus, I hope you get to learn this amazing country a little, because traveling there has been at the top of my bucket list since I first learned about it when I represented it at an MUN conference back in high school lol

Warnings: Some swear words, mentions of drinking/intoxication, suggestive towards the end, kind of dialogue heavy, representations might not be at their best so please let me know if there are any problems. English is my second language so there might be errors, and that must be it. Please let me know if there is more!

Word Count: 4.262 kinda long

Genre: Fluff all around, Angst if you squint like you have really bad eyesight, traveler!reader, fem!reader (I have all of my fics besides this gender neutral, but I thought since it was requested specifically I’d make this fem!reader)

Hope you all enjoy and hope this is not as cringey as it is to me!! Stay safe and healthy, take good care of yourselves for me 💚Have a happy morning/day/afternoon/evening/night!

Going on vacation alone after many years of constant company is weird for Johnny.

It starts off normal. He goes to the airport accompanied with some managers, with a private car. His disguise is more secretive than ever— no special airport outfit, no make up, face mostly covered with glasses, a mask and a hat to make sure no photographers or fans spot him throughout the procedure. The only suspicious thing is that he gets special treatment with VIP access to avoid waiting in the lines and get over with everything quickly, but to his luck, nobody seems to suspect anything.

The weirdness of everything starts then. Managers leave when he passes passport control and gets into the duty free area. For the first time in years, he is completely alone. It is somewhat overwhelming.

But Johnny manages to keep his calm and go to his gate for the first of his flights. He gets to his business class seat, not bothering to take off his mask or glasses yet, and tries the in-flight entertainment system. Though, he has already memorized everything that it has to offer, so he opts for listening to music and editing a few experimental shots and videos he has taken instead before going to sleep.

When the flight is over and he checks his phone for the first time, he finds the group chat filled with encouraging messages and good wishes, which he finds is exactly what he needs.

It is early in the morning when he lands in Paris, and he has a couple hours to spare before his second long haul flight to Pointe-à-Pitre. So he treats himself to a breakfast before rushing to his gate. This flight of almost nine hours of flying does not seem to end since he has grabbed quite a bit of sleep on his first one. He does everything to keep himself occupied, walking up and down the plane’s aisles to make up for the lack of activity that his legs were getting. Somehow that flight also ends without much hassle. It ultimately ends up being the one that messes up his sense of time, since his body thinks it is 3 pm whereas the time in Pointe-à-Pitre is in fact 9 am when they land.

Within a matter of an hour is his flight to Bridgetown, and after his two long haul flights, this short flight of just over an hour is basically nothing. It comes and goes with a blink of his (very tired) eyes.

In all honesty, it awes Johnny that his luggage does not get lost during this almost a day long— 21 and a half hours, to be exact— travel, and he wants to thank every airline and airport worker ever for doing a phenomenal job.

But he cannot, because shortly after landing he has to take a boat ride to his final destination.

The lands are beautiful, the ocean more so, with their blinding greens and blues. His mask and glasses he had gotten rid of on his flight from Paris, but the glasses quickly make a come back, along with his hat under the morning sun. The guide that is designated for him and the group of people he takes the boat ride with takes them to their hotel, and after checking in and being guided to his little villa, Johnny is able to stand in an open space with a private bed and bathroom.

But it is all worth it. Because as he looks out of the windows that cover the side of the villa that looks out to the ocean, he can see the beautiful bay and the islands and the beauty of nature, with its bright colors and white noise that is the screeching of bugs.

Why travel so much? Well, if he had gone to a known, tourist-dense place, he probably would not get what he wanted to get— which is to relax. Truly let go of everything for a while. Disappear, even, with people not knowing him, ultimately resulting in him forgetting his usual life as well. He wants to be a bit invisible for once.

And St. Vincent and the Grenadines was the perfect place for that. He had been interested in this place for years after first seeing a random video that popped up on his YouTube recommended. Locals were known to be angels of hospitality, everyone seemed to be happy, views were amazing, yet it somehow attracted less tourists than the surrounding countries.

With a good ten days to spare here, the first thing he knows he will do is take a nap. For at least a good couple of hours. So he takes off his t-shirt that smells of all kinds of airports and plane seats, puts his glasses and hat somewhere, and does just that. Luggage still packed and all.

Only after waking back up does he even bother with unpacking his luggage, and to be honest, it is only because he wants to take his trunks out and head to the beach. He looks.. disheveled at best, or so he decides when he is putting some sunscreen on very carefully as it is just past the afternoon and he has a good chance of getting a burn otherwise. Johnny’s face is puffy, both from traveling and sleeping, and his nose is acting up a little— blocked because of all the air and pressure change. But is it enough to stop him from exploring around? No. Not really.

The bay is not crowded when he walks down save for a few groups of people and a couple others that are alone. It smells like sea salt and overall freshness, with small waves hitting the shore and a few yachts in the distance. The sand is almost white under his feet and the water is a beautiful turquoise.

What is truly different to him, though, is the fact that the beach seems to be silent. Sure, some people a few years younger than him were playing with a beach ball in the water and provided some noise, but not too much. It was almost too peaceful as he swam a few laps in the water.

That is not to say it does not feel magical and amazing, though, because it does.

He takes his time swimming around, looking down to see any formations or life in the clear water before coming out. In the heat that is much more manageable than back in Seoul, he walks back to his place, takes a shower, and dresses back up to go outside.

The resort is stupidly big. There are many facilities, pools, sports grounds, restaurants, entertainment areas and access to different bays that he feels overwhelmed by the time his stomach starts crying out for dinner— and even by then, he is not done with exploring the whole place.

It is only when he takes a brochure from a random information point and looks at it that he realizes this whole island belongs to this resort, because it is privately owned.

Looking at the map for directions, he goes to the nearest restaurant. It is fairly small, more like a pub than a restaurant, so he sits at the bar. The waiter hands him a menu with a smile on his face, and Johnny does not hesitate to smile back before thanking him.

There are so many options on the menu. Some local food, some not, some snacks, some appetizers, some main, some desserts, but basically too many. Especially since they all sound good to his stomach that craves something other than plane food.

“You seem lost, want help?” Somebody leans on the bar as they speak to him, and he picks his head up to look at them. A girl. A very pretty girl with a warm smile on her face. “Actually, yeah. I’d appreciate some help.”

Without even glancing at the menu, you respond. “Roasted breadfruit and fried jackfish tends to be good anywhere. It’s the national dish, can’t really go wrong with that.”

Your confidence beams like a shining star, so Johnny finds himself trusting you. He orders his meal with, again, a smile on his face, and gets flustered when the waiter compliments his outfit choice genuinely. So far, the locals really did seem very happy and positive, because the guide was also the same. Always smiling. And Johnny really appreciates that.

You, who is now sitting on the stool next to him order some roasted breadfruit yourself, before coming eye to eye with Johnny and chuckling a bit awkwardly. “Is it okay if I sit here?”

It kind of makes him feel bad that you felt the need to even ask him that, so he relaxes himself in an attempt to hopefully not look too intimidating anymore, and nods. “You don’t have to ask. Sorry, it’s just been a long travel day.”

Your smile grows wider. “Oh I know that feeling all too well. You look nothing like me when I’m just done traveling, though. I wish I could look like that.”

Something about the sentence makes Johnny smile to himself, and you seem to notice that, because you clear your throat. “I mean,” You let out before clearing your throat one more time because your voice is not quite like how it was. “I’m a full time traveler. I just wish it’d get easier by now.”

“You’re a full time traveler?” Johnny asks. He can smell the food being cooked now, and it smells absolutely delicious. Enthusiastically, you nod. “How come?” Because you look maybe his age, maybe a few years older or younger, whatever it is— you look around the same age. Full time traveling would have sounded like a good stretch (anyone your age) if it was not for the confidence you were radiating.

“I have a goal of traveling to 120 countries. Made it my job, I work for several magazines and networks writing about my experiences. Plus filming a documentary— but all by myself so it’s not like I’m getting payed for that or anything.” All of that sounds so incredibly cool to him, he cannot help but feel his eyes widen. “Everything I do is so that I can pay off the traveling expenses.”

“That sounds amazing,” Johnny says with a smile on his face, awed at the fact that you get to do this for a living, at least for now. The waiter comes back with their food, and the two of you thank him before digging into your servings. It is either because Johnny is really hungry, or because the dish tastes so good, or both, but it is delicious. Breadfruit is something he had not tried before but he finds himself loving it.

He kind of groans, which is embarrassing. “This is amazing.” It prompts a giggle out of his companion, and he too huffs at his own remark. “So, how many countries have you been to?”

Biting a breadfruit piece, you answer. “Ninety three,” You say it as if it is nothing. “So I’m starting to slow down a little. I’ve been here before, but I wanted to take a bit off my savings and have a vacation. Pamper myself, I guess.”

“Excuse me, ninety three?” Johnny asks in awe, grabbing a bite of his salty fish. You looked around the same age as him. “How long have you been doing this for?”

Your eyes roll upward, recollecting memories and counting the time. “Three years? More or less.”

“You’re crazy.” He chuckles lightly, to which you join. “I am.”

He continues to talk with you, asking you questions about how and why. It takes some time for him to actually ask you your name, but he does— luckily you are not insulted or suspicious by the fact that it takes him at least a good hour of conversing before he can ask you. In fact, you have a positive energy with the way you speak and act throughout the time the two of you spend which could only hopefully mean good. Because Johnny finds you really interesting, the initial physical attraction put aside. You sound like an open book that he would love to read.

Luckily, you give him a chance. Before you have to leave to catch up with your work, you suggest him something. “Are you by yourself?” Johnny nods at your question as he finishes up his meal. “No tours or anything?” Contradictory to his last answer, he shakes his head. When he looks at you, you smile to him, trying to ease the words. “During the day I’m usually island-hopping. I could show you around, if you’d like.”

The suggestion makes him feel all happy-go-lucky inside, and he can feel it reflecting by the way he smiles. “Do you suggest this to everyone?”

You do not answer. But the way your cheeks get slightly pink as you turn away from him with a chuckle is all the answer he needs.

The next morning you call his phone— the one in his little villa, that he had given its number of before you two parted your ways. It was too early in the morning, and your voice was not beaming the way it did the day before, but you still sounded more enthusiastic than he ever could. “Do you like hiking?”

Johnny kind of whines a little before he can catch onto what he is doing and stop himself. He really wants to relax, but he had the unfortunate chance of fortunately meeting you. “Is hiking literally the first thing we’re doing?”

“I was gonna do this before I met you too, so,” You yawn. “Plus, it’s not like we’ll hike in some forest. I’ll take you to an active volcano.”

It sounds too cool for him to not agree.

First you two meet up at the restaurant you had met in, having some light breakfast and coffee before you leave the resort. You take him to the port, saying you will have to take a ride to another island— Saint Vincent to start your hike. You inform him that the peak is at a whopping 1,234 meters which sounds really fun considering the way up will all be on foot not to mention the rocky trail, but in return, you promise him a beautiful view and countless photo-ops. Plus the ability to say I’ve hiked all the way up to the crater of an active volcano.

The boat ride is short and before he knows the two of you are already on the trail between groups of tourists. The weather is only just starting to get hotter when you start hiking, but he knows it will not be much of a problem anyway with the height you are hiking up today.

“So,” You start speaking after a while of silence as you walk beside him. “You interviewed me enough yesterday. It’s only fair if I get to interview you.”

“Go ahead.” He says in a heartbeat, looking down at the bay the two of you were coming from. It was a good drop down, but considering how long it had been since you both started hiking, he would guess you are not even a quarter way done. “Who even is Johnny? What does he like to do? What does he not like? What is the one thing he can't back out of?”

He laughs at the curiosity that is in your voice, and at the questions before he starts answering. “Optimistically I’m a giant with way too big of a coffee and Coldplay addiction and love for photography, pessimistically I’m one tired guy that is long overdue a vacation, and realistically I’m just Johnny.”

Johnny sees you scrunch your lips and nodding. “That sounds pretty legit.”

That makes him laugh, and you do not hesitate to join him.

You two hike your way up to the volcano, and honestly speaking, it is maybe one of the coolest things he has done before. And you were right— there really are lots of beautiful sceneries with a three sixty view of the island, yachts in the water, the clouds, the colorful native flora and fauna, the crater of the active volcano for goodness’ sake, and the occasional wildlife that got close enough.

The hike takes around 6 hours. It is the evening by the time you get back to your resort and have dinner, and you only converse during dinner before calling it a night.

Next day you take him to Saint Vincent once again, this time to walk around the Botanic Garden. You tell him it is one of the oldest in the world, and that he can take photo-card-worthy shots, even film something if he wants to. He lets you show the way around ferns, palms, agave trees, cinnamon and breadfruit trees as parrots chirp and fly around. He learns that they are the national animal when a staff member spots him trying to take a photo of the birds and tells him, pointing at one colored blue, green and yellow before patting the flag on his work uniform. The middle-aged-almost-old guy laughs when realization dawns on Johnny and his mouth parts, with your sweet giggle in the background.

Johnny would not mind looking dumb if it gets you giggling that way again.

On the fifth day of his trip that rolls around way too fast, you to go to the market place on the main island. Not necessarily buying anything as most things sold are local produce, just looking for souvenirs of any kind, but all he ends up with is a magnet for each member and some baked goods because it is not strictly tourist season yet.

You take him to a restaurant that you know the owners of— which is kind of mind blowing to him how you can remember specific people after traveling to ninety three countries— and order a bunch of drinks with roasted breadfruit. You tell the family that owns the place that he is a friend of yours, a friend of yours who is visiting for the first time and has come from far away. And he hears the words Seoul, South Korea.

He cannot bring himself to listen to much after that.

Even when the older sister of the bartender that is serving you both tells him that the rums are quite dense in alcohol, and that one of the beers might taste a bit different to him since it is made of tree barks and spices, he does not care too much.

There are lots of shots placed in front of you, and you call for him to clink his glass with yours in cheers before he tries. He does what you say, but stops before any of you can drink. “How do you know where I came from?”

Johnny hears you chuckle airily before smirking a little and leaning towards him on the counter. “Well I’ve visited South Korea before, and it’s hard not to know when I’ve literally walked into your face at a mall. Went there for the library, originally.”

It makes sense. The Coex mall. A weirdly serious tourist attraction because of Starlight Library, neighboring his agency’s museum, which thought it is for whatever reason necessary to put digital screens everywhere with idols’ displays on them. The world is so small. Even when he is at a place so little that it is a literal dot on the world map, he is somehow spotted. But this time it does not feel all that serious.

“But I swear that’s not why I approached you at first. I didn’t even realize until I went over a few videos the other day and literally saw your face in one of them. Imagine the horror I went through.” You laugh lightly before clinking his glass again. “For a good minute I thought you’d think of me as a crazy fan or something.”

“I was about to, just now.” He sees your face change in shock and mocked hurt, and raises his glass a little in defense. “But I didn’t. Your explanation makes enough sense.”

You laugh. “Just down the drink, Suh. You need to get tipsy already.” He sees you down yours and smile a little afterwards, and you shrug, just as he brings his glass to his lips. “For the record, I don’t care. Like you said, realistically you’re just Johnny.”

He downs the drink with a dumb smile on his face.

The two of you return to the resort slightly tipsy that day, but it does not stop you from going out the upcoming day.

You go to Kingstown again and walk around looking at the buildings and the Gothic churches that seemed to be everywhere despite the town’s small size, taking photographs and interacting with the locals. He finds himself to be greatly inspired by the coexistence of the English colonial architecture that looks old, intimidating and grey, with the colorful, wooden and inviting local architecture— he photographs almost every street you two pass, sometimes even asking locals if he could photograph them. It is a generally more relaxing day as you hang out and eat and drink and speak and support the local businesses, dedicating time to each other.

On the seventh day, he basically gets dragged out of his room with you promising that you will give him the last two days of him to laze around. Until this point he had already skipped swimming in any way for 2 days, and he really wanted to have relaxed beach days with the comfort of a bed available to him at anytime because who knew when he would get another vacation like this.

But he internally shuts his internal voice up when your boat ride (a different kind this time) brings you to a waterfall inside a canyon.

Johnny comes to learn you are an adventure addict, one that likes to share her experiences. And he loves that about you.

Well.

Johnny comes to learn that he himself is a bit of an adventure addict when he kisses you on the night of the ninth day.

In all of his defense, there was a fair share of attraction. The initial attraction was undeniable. He would have liked to think it was mutual. And maybe it was, because you had kissed him back.

Not only did you kiss him back, but you let him hold your hand and lead you to his room for privacy. You let him caress you, your cheek and your waist as he kisses you against the wall. You let him lay you down on his bed. You let his hands roam around your body, and you roam your hands around his as well. You let him mark you up in his moment of bad, tipsy judgement, the plum colored bruises splattered around your chest and stomach where his hands bunch your top up. And maybe just to get even, you lay him down mark him up too, focusing on his collarbones. You both let each other elicit such sounds from one another, it is almost hard to believe that you two had just met several days ago.

It is a tipsy mistake at worst. Neither of you goes further out of mutual respect.

Yet maybe it is not the worst, because you sleep and wake up together. Still tangled in each other.

It is the tenth day. In a matter of hours, he has to be at the port to go to Bridgetown again and start the madness that is his way back.

“I don’t wanna leave yet,” He complains as he rubs your arm that is slung over his chest, getting a hum from you, though not the kind you had made last night. “Why?”

“My sense of time was just getting better,” That gets an unenthusiastic giggle from you. “Ouch.”

“Why?” Shrug. “I thought it was because of me or something.”

You are joking, but he does not get it. He looks down at you, meeting his gaze with yours when you tilt your neck up to look at him. Even better, he furrows his brows. “You’re part of the reason why. Probably the biggest part.”

Silence. But you smile softly, which makes him smile softly.

You can see the hope inside his eyes, and when he parts his lips, you cut him off. “Don’t even ask. Dating and traveling full time don’t exactly go hand in hand.”

What you say does not even faze Johnny. “I can imagine. But I’m willing to learn more about you, if you let me,” He mumbles sleepily. “I don’t mind waiting if we want something to happen. And I don’t mind having a kick-ass friend who’s traveled to 120 countries if we decide we don’t want something to happen.” This time, he shrugs. “Win-win either way.”

His fake carelessness makes you laugh even though you are too tired to laugh fully, and in the end you just end up smiling way too wide to the point where your cheeks hurt. You would like everything he just said and more. “If you insist. Are you ready to hear the classiest thing about me yet?”

“Hm?”

“You need to e-mail me or call me from Skype because half the time I don’t even have connection.” Looking at his sleepy, dumbfounded face you laugh a little, but he shrugs again.

“I could work with that.”

[golden-masquerade]

Apartmentseeker.com reviews for Sunny Hollow Apartments

Note: Original fiction, might be something more with time, I’m not sure yet

Really wanted one of those templates where you make fake stuff, like those fake tweet and face text stuff, but I guess those don’t exist. Oh well, maybe someday.

Enjoy!

ApartmentSeeker.com reviews

Sunny Hollow Apartments

Average 3.9 stars

Highest rated reviews:

**** Nice place with strict rules (Jonas J)

My sister and I moved here a couple of years ago because of the cheap rent, and it's been pretty great. The apartments are close to the town square and convention center, which works out well for us. There's also a beautiful garden and swimming pool with hot tub on the back lot which has been pretty great. The HOA in place has lots of complicated rules so anyone new to apartments are gonna feel a little over their head, but my sister and I adjusted quickly. I recommend getting a room in Sunny Hollow if you need cheap rent and don't mind the iron fist of the HOA.

-Reply from Owner-

Thank you for the kind words, JJ. I just wanted to clarify that the building doesn't have an HOA. It has a Building Management Team, and we work hard to ensure that our tenants are happy and safe in their homes. It makes us happy to hear that you love Sunny Hollow! Please give us a call if you need maintenance or anything at all! -Sasha S.

***** Cheap rent for great apartments! (Dash C.)

I absolutely LOVE Sunny Hollow! While the rooms are on the small side (hence so cheap), the building is close to the center of everything (except a school). While there's some rules the HOA has you follow, it's easy to get into a routine and life couldn't be better. Neighbors are nice, the pool and hot tub are fantastic perks, and the building itself is pretty quiet. It's been great rooming here while studying for Uni. Highly recommend to the average Uni student who can afford apartment housing!

-Reply from Owner-

Hi, Dash! Thanks for the kind words! I just wanted to clarify that the building doesn't have an HOA. It has a Building Management Team, and we work hard to ensure that our tenants are happy and safe in their homes. Please give us a call if you need maintenance or anything at all! -Sasha S.

*** Too many rules to follow (Miche P.)

I came to live here a week ago, and while the 1B1B room is nice and affordable for one person, there's a giant rules packet that comes with the place. A lot of the rules are pretty weird and make no sense, and I specifically moved into this place because I was told it was anti-HOA, when there is, in fact, an HOA. I'm breaking the lease and moving out. I vowed to never live under another HOA again.

-Reply from Owner-

Hi Miche! We're sorry that living in Sunny Hollow was unpleasant I want to clarify that the building does not have an HOA. Apartment buildings cannot have an HOA by law. We do have the Building Maintenance Team, which maintains the property and does not govern how tenants live their lives like an HOA does. We do have a lot of rules, yes, which were designed by happenings in the past to keep everyone safe and in harmony. Please stop by the office on the front floor so we can go over your paperwork. And we thank you for giving Sunny Hollow a try. Wishing all the best, Sasha S.

*** Small rooms with thin walls (Travis D.)

Like it says, all the rooms here are 1B1B, and that's fine but the walls are paper thin! I can hear everything from my other neighbors, and they keep me up at night! And I can hear everything outside too, don't even get me started on that nonsense! I'm only here because this is the cheapest place in town, and now I'm starting to see why! Come here only if you're as desperate as I am!

-Reply from Owner-

Hi Travis, thank you for your honest feedback! We're sorry to hear about the noise levels from your room. You must be on the sixth floor? It's a recent addition that we were sure we added our sound proofing to. Please come stop by the office so we can address this and help you live more comfortably in your apartment. Regards, Sasha S.

** Nice place but HOA doesn't care (Heather I.)

I moved here six months ago because the rent was ridiculously cheap, and now I'm starting to see why. I foster stray cats and kittens, and they either all go missing or are found dead in a matter of days. The building staff all say that the coyotes are doing it, and don't want to stop it. I can't deny that the room is nice, but there's so many pointless rules to follow and they refuse to do anything about the apparently dangerous wildlife in the area. Will move out soon.

-Reply from Owner-

Hi Heather! Unfortunately, owning pets or having animals in the apartments goes against the leasing agreement. We would also like to remind you that the building does not have an HOA. It does have the Building Maintenance Team, which works hard to keep you happy and safe in your apartment every day. We're sorry that Coyote managed to get to your animals, but there really is nothing we can do in that regard. Please come by the office at your earliest convenience so we can discuss what happened and what we can do moving foreword. Thank you, Sasha S.

*** Nice place but rules are weird (anon)

Me and two roommates are managing in our apartment because it's so small. But the giant rules packet they gave us with the place is a huge headache. Cover our open sockets? Only air freshener allowed is cinnamon apple? Cover shiny objects with cloth if planning to leave the apartment for an hour? It's weird. I don't get it, but the rent is cheap and we have nowhere else to go. So, come live here if you need cheap rent!

-Reply from Owner-

Hi Ashley, John, and Avery! We're sorry if living in Sunny Hollow is a little tough right now. The rules for the building are in place to be sure everyone is safe and happy in their apartment. We have socket covers, air fresheners, the proper thick cloths, fluffy towels, and mix of bird songs in the rain for everyone who needs them, completely for free, to help make following the rules easier. We do also offer a lock box for your shiny objects, however there is a fee for rental. The Building Management Team is doing its best to ensure that living in Sunny Hollow is the best for you it can be. Please come see us in the office on the first floor so we can help make living in your apartment the happy experience it should be. Thank you, Sasha S.

(one star) HOA WILL THROW YOU OUT IF YOU'RE PREGNANT! (Tammy J.)

AS SOON AS THE HOA HEARD THAT MY PREGNANCY TEST WAS POSITIVE, THEY GAVE ME AN EVICTION NOTICE! THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS AND ILLEGAL! HOA IS A BUNCH OF JERKS! DO NOT LIVE HERE! WILL BE SUING!

-Reply from Owner-

Flagged for trolling. Sasha S.

**** Cheap apartments for single occupant (Jason S.)

I've lived here for five years, and I really enjoy these apartments. While they are small (1B1B), they're perfect for living on your own and really affordable for single occupancy. The neighbors are nice, and its close to nearly everything in town. The area is quiet, and the building has a garden to walk in and relax and a swimming pool that open in the spring and summer. I highly recommend to anyone looking for an affordable place to live on their own without roommates Sunny Hollow is the best!

** HOA IN PLACE DESPITE BUILDING BEING ANTI-HOA! (anon)

They lied about there being an HOA owning the place! I don't care what they call it, it's an HOA! I don't like being lied to! I'm moving out as soon as I can! Fuck HOAS!

-Reply from Owner-

Sunny Hollow does not have an HOA. We have a Building Management Team, which works hard on making life in your apartment happy and safe. Please come see us in our office on the first floor to work out the lease breaking process. We're so sorry that we couldn't make your stay a happy one, Jeoff. Regards, Sasha S.

*** Small space, both good and bad (Preston S.)

I've been here for six months, and am happy with Sunny Hollow. The rooms are VERY SMALL 1B1B, so not good for large groups or families. But we get access to a swimming pool in the summer, and a quiet place to study and rest. It's just me here, so the space is just about perfect. Recommended for single person who wants to live independently

(one star) Will not rent to families (anon)

Was hoping to stay here because the rent is cheap, but the property owner wouldn't even let us in. They sited our five year old son! They say the property is strictly a no children allowed property, which I'm pretty sure is illegal! What residence doesn't allow children to live there?! Avoid this place if at all possible! We'd sue if we had the money!

-Reply from Owner-

Sunny Hollow does not allow children to live in our apartments, as is covered by Rule 1 of our Apartment Guide and Rules. Sasha S.

*** Giant rule book comes with the place! (anon)

First day I was here, there's this giant book of rules for the room and building, like wtf? It makes a great doormat. Place is alright, but why all the rules?

-Reply from Owner-

Hi, Jack! Sunny Hallow has a Building Management Team to ensure that everyone's residency is safe and happy. We understand that there are a lot of rules to follow, and we would be happy to explain them to you at your leisure. The state of the rule book does not matter to us, as long as you follow the rules. Please see us in our office on the first floor for any questions or concerns that you have. Thank you, Sasha S.

(one star) Can't live here because of my dog? (anon)

Was turned away because I have a chihuahua?! It's not even a dangerous dog breed? Apartments are supposed to be pet friendly, wtf?

-Reply from Owner-

Sunny Hollow does not permit pets of any kind or animals, as is explained on our website as well as Rule 2 of the Apartment Guide and Rules. We are sorry we couldn't provide you with a home and wish you well on apartment hunting. Sasha S.

(one star) SOMETHING ATE ALL MY FISH! (anon)

DAY AFTER I MOVED IN ALL THE FISH IN MY FISHTANK WERE GONE! HOA WON'T DO ANYTHING! MOVING OUT TODAY! WHAT THE FUCK?! WHAT THE FUCK ATE MY FISH?!

-Reply from Owner-

Sunny Hollow does not permit pets of any kind or animals, as is explained on our website as well as Rule 2 of the Apartment Guide and Rules.

Flagged for trolling. -Sasha S.

*** 1B1B, cozy but has pests (Cassie Q.)

The rooms are alright, but after three days I heard something scratching and crawling through the walls. I'm worried about pests, but building management said they'd take care of it at no extra charge. It's good that the owners are always on top of things, but I really don't like mice or bugs and I was told that there's no pests in the building at all. Weird, but affordable, so I can't complain too much.

-Reply from Owner-

Hi Cassie! We're sorry about the night noises, and will work with you so you can get a good night's rest. We can assure you that Sunny Hollow is pest free, and we have an exterminator coming in every month to monitor the building as per town sanction. We can assure you that you'll never see a single mouse or bug considered a pest in your apartment. You're welcome to come by the office on the first floor if you'd like to see the appropriate paperwork, or pick up any supplies you need to ensure that your home is pest free. Regards, Sasha S.

***** THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH THIS PLACE! (anon)

YOU NEED TO READ THIS! DO NOT GO TO SUNNY HOLLOW! SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THE BUILDING! THERE'S SOMETHING LIVING IN IT! OR LOTS OF SOMETHINGS! THEY EAT PETS! THEY KILL PEOPLE! THE HOA DOESN'T CARE! I'M NOT CRAZY, WE'VE ALL SEEN IT! WE'VE SEEN THEM! DON'T BE FOOLED! THE RENT IS LOW FOR A REASON! DON'T GO THERE!

-Reply from the owner-

Flagged for trolling. Sasha S.

[thisbluespirit]

James Maxwell TV/Film List

More of a guide than a recs list, because old tv/film depends so much on availability.  It’s also hard as there’s nothing surviving that’s really like SotT for him (his voice is always slightly different, too & rarely the grand one from SotT) - I found it hard to find where to start back in the day, so I hope this makes it easier.  However, I have starred my favourites (rated for JM content only). 

I’ve divided things into categories and @jurijurijurious​ (or anyone) can make up their own mind as to what to go for.  (Also @jurijurijurious I have NO idea what old telly you’ve already seen, so forgive me if I’m telling you things you already know.)

Where to find it:  Luckily in the UK, it’s not too bad!  Network Distributing are the DVD supplier to keep an eye on (they do great online sales), you can find secondhand things cheap on Amazon Marketplace & eBay, and several Freeview channels show old TV & film, especially Talking Pictures.  I’ll note if things are on YT or Daily Motion, but they come and go all the time, so it’s always worth searching.

***

Film serials (ITC mainly)

British TV made on film in the US mode with transatlantic cash, so generally pretty light,  episodic (continuity is almost unheard of) etc.  Some turn up on ITV3 & 4 on a regular basis (colour eps). 

*** Dangerman “A Date With Doris” (ITC 1964)  James Maxwell is a British spy friend of Drake’s (Patrick MacGoohan) called Peter who gets framed for murder.  Drake goes to Fake Cuba to rescue him by which time JM is dying from an infected wound and faints off every available surface, including the roof.  It’s great.  On YT.  (The boxset is v pricey if you just want 2 eps.)

“Fair Exchange” (ITC 1964) JM is a German spy friend of Drake’s called Pieter who helps him out on a case.  Not as gloriously hurt/comfort-y as the other, but it does have some excellent undercover dusting. (Why  Patrick MacGoohan has JM clones all called variations on Peter dotted around the globeis a mystery.)  On YT.

The Saint “The Inescapable Word” (ITC 1965) This is pretty terrible, but  entertaining and James Maxwell plays the world’s most hopeless former-cop-turned-security guard. With bonus collapsing.  On YT.

“The Art Collectors” (1967).  JM is the villain of the week.  It does include a v funny bit, though, where the Saint (Roger Moore) goes for JM’s fake hair (and who can blame him?  How often I have felt the same!)  This one’s in colour so should pop up on ITV3 or 4. 

The Champions “The Silent Enemy” (ITC 1968).  Surprisingly good JM content as the villain of the week who drugs sailors and steals their clothes before realising that maybe he should have worked out if he could operate a sub before he stole it.

The Protectors “The Bridge” (ITC 1974, 30 mins.)  Not worth seeking out on its own, but ITV4 seems fond of it and James Maxwell gets to do some angsting and wears purple, so it’s worth snagging if you can, but too slight otherwise.

*** Thriller “Good Salary, Prospects, Free Coffin” (ITC 1975; 1hr 10mins, I think).  James Maxwell moves in with Julian Glover and runs an overcomplicated murdery spy ring where they bicker a lot in between killing girls by advertisement and burying them in the back garden.  What could possibly go wrong??  Anyway, it’s solid gold cheese, has bonus Julian Glover and a lot of natty knitwear.  What more does an old telly fan want?  (tw: Keith Barron being inexplicably the very meanest Thriller boyfriend.)  On YT but tends to get taken down fast.

***

Films

Design for Loving (1962; comedy).  Can be rented from the BFI online for £3.50.  Isn’t that great or that bad (or that funny either), but does have JM as a dim layabout beatnik, which is atypical.

***The Traitors (1962).  This is a low-key little 1hr long spy B-movie, but it’s also thoughtful and ambiguous with a nice 60s soundtrack and location work (it’s a bit New Wave-ish) and the central duo of JM and Patrick Allen are sweet and it all winds up with James Maxwell going in the swimming pool. One of the things where JM is actually American. (Talking Pictures show this occasionally & it is out on DVD as an extra on The Wind of Change.)  The quality of the surviving film is not great, though.

***Girl on Approval (1962).  A Rachel Roberts kitchen sink drama about a couple fostering a difficult teenager.  It’s dated, but it’s also really interesting for a 1950s/60s slice of life (and very female-centric) & probably the only time on this list JM played an ordinary person.

***Otley (1969).  Comedy that’s generally dated surprisingly well & is good fun, starring Tom Courtenay +cameos from what seems like the whole of British TV.  JM is an incompetent red herring & there are more cardies and glasses as well as a random barometer. 

Old Vic/Royal Exchange group productions

(Surviving works made by the group that JM was involved in from drama school to his death, made by Michael Elliott or Casper Wrede.  I like them a lot mostly, but they are all slow and weird and earnest & not everybody’s cup of tea.)

Brand (BBC 1959).  The BBC recording of the 59 Company’s (the name they were then using) landmark production, starring Patrick MacGoohan.  This was a big deal in British theatre & launched the careers of everybody involved.  It’s very relentless and weird but interesting & I’m glad they decided it was important enough to save.  First fake beard alert of this post.  It won’t be the last.  On YT & there is a DVD, which is sometimes affordable and sometimes £500, depending on the time of day.

***Private Potter (1962).  The original TV play is lost and this film has an extraneous storyline, but otherwise has most of the TV cast & gives a pretty good idea of why as a claustrophobic talky TV piece it made such an impact.  Tom Courtenay is Private Potter, a soldier who claims to have had a vision of God during a mission & James Maxwell his CO who needs to decide what to do about this strange excuse for disobeying orders.  Tw: fake eyebrows (!) and moustaches.  Only available on YT.

[???]One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovitch (1970).  Again, no DVD release (no idea why), but it is on YT.  I haven’t seen this yet, but it’s another Casper Wrede effort starring Tom Courtenay and apparently JM is especially good in it.  (I’m just not good at watching long things on YT and keep hoping for a DVD or TV showing.)

Ransom (1974).  A more commercial effort starring Sean Connery & Ian McShane; it gets slated as not being a good action movie, but is clearly meant to be more thinky and political with the edge of a thriller. JM’s part isn’t large but Casper Wrede shoots his friend beautifully, & it’s a pretty decent film with nice cinematography, shot in Norway, as was One Day.  I liked it.

[I think this post might be the longest in the world, whoops.  Sorry!]

Cardboard TV (the best bit, obv)

One-off plays etc./mini-series

Out of the Unknown “The Dead Planet” Adaptation of an Asimov short story; this is very good for JM, but hard to get hold of unless you want the boxset.  I think someone has some of the eps on Daily Motion.  (His other OotU ep is sadly burninated.)

The Portrait of a Lady (BBC 1968).  Adaptation of the novel; JM is Gilbert Osmond, so it is great for JM in quantity and his performance, but depends how you feel about him being skeevy in truly appalling facial hair.  Do the bow ties and hand-holding make up for it?  but he’s in 5 whole episodes, and Suzanne Neve, faced with Richard Chamberlain, Edward Fox, and Ed Bishop as suitors, chooses instead to marry the worst possible James Maxwell.  Relatable. XD

***Dracula (ITV 1968, part of Mystery & Imagination).  JM is Dr Seward, fainty snowflake of vampire hunters, who falls over, sobs and can’t cope for most of the 1 hr 20 mins.  More facial hair, but not as offensive as last time.  Suzanne Neve is back again, although now JM is nice, she’s married Corin Redgrave, who’s more into Denholm Elliott. Anyway, I love this so much because it turned out that I love Dracula as well as shaky old TV with people I like in getting to fight vampires and all be shippy.  Good news - TP keep showing M&I, the DVD is out, and there are two versions of it up on YT.

The Prison (Armchair Cinema 1974).  This is the one with Lincoln in it, but it’s not that great & JM isn’t in it that much, so depends how curious you are for the modern AU!  (But my Euston films allergy is worse than my ITC allergy, and I watched this when very unwell, so I may have been unfair.)

Crown Court “Fitton vs. Pusey” (1973) - part of the Crown Court series, set in a town full of clones who all keep returning to court.  JM is on trial for his behaviour in (the Korean war?  I forget?) although he ought to be on trial for his terrible moustache.  It’s not that great, but it is nice JM content.  He probably did it, but for reasons, and he wibbles & panics whenever his wife leaves the courtroom.  Also on YT.

*** Raffles “The Amateur Cracksman” (ITV 1975) - He is Inspector Mckenzie in the Raffles pilot & is a lot of fun.  At one point when there was a Raffles fandom someone in it claimed he was too gay for Raffles, which I’m still laughing about, because Raffles.  Anyway, watch out if you try to get the DVD because it is NOT included in S1, whatever lies Amazon tells. It is up somewhere online, though, I think.

Bognor “Unbecoming Habits” (1981).  Some down marks for possibly the worst 80s theme & incidiental music ever, but fun & has been shown on Talking Pictures lately.  JM is an Abbot running a honey-making friary that is actually a hotbed of spies, murder, gay sex and squash playing.  This is the point at which he chooses to strip off on screen for the first time, because strong squash-playing abbots do that kind of thing apparently.

Guest of the week in ongoing series/serials

Since even series with a lot of continuity tended to write episodes as self-contained plays (like SotT), these are usually accessible on their own.

Manhunt “Death Wish” (1970).  This is one of the most serialised shows here, but this episode is still fairly contained.  WWII drama about three Resistance agents on the run across France.  JM is... a Nazi agent & former academic trying to break an old friend (one of the series’ three leads, Peter Barkworth) with kindness, possibly??  (Manhunt is very angry and psychological & dark and obv. comes with major WWII warnings (& more if you want to try the whole thing), but it’s also v good.)  Up on YT, I think.

Doomwatch “The Iron Doctor” (BBC S2 1971).  “Doomwatch” is the nickname of a gov’t dept led by Dr Spencer Quist that investigates new scientific projects for abuse/corruption/things that might cause fish to make men infertile etc. etc.  JM is a surgeon who comes to their attention because he’s a bit too in love with his computer for the comfort of one of his more junior colleagues.  (I think it’s perfectly comprehensible & a nice guest turn, but it is hard to get hold of outside of the series DVD.  Which, being a cult TV person, I loved a lot anyway, but YMMV!)

***Hadleigh “The Caper” (S3 1973).  Hadleigh is a very middle of the road show, but watchable enough (lead is Gerald Harper, who’s always entertaining) and this is pretty self-contained as it centres around an old con-man friend (JM) of Hadleigh’s manservant causing trouble by pretending to be Gerald Harper, for reasons.  JM seems to be having a ball.

Justice 2 episodes, S3 1974.  He guests twice as an opposing barrister & gets to be part of some nice showdown court scenes.  Again, a middle of the road drama, but stars Margaret Lockwood, who was still just as awesome in the 1970s as she was in the 1930s & 40s.  On YT.

Father Brown “The Curse of the Golden Cross” (1974).  JM is an American archaeologist getting death threats; stars Kenneth More as Father Brown.  Just a note, though, that 1970s TV adaptations tended to be really really faithful and this is one of the stories where Chesterton comes out with an anti-semitic moment...  (JM was unconscious for that bit and, frankly, I envied him.)  But otherwise lots of angsting in yet another fake moustache about someone trying to kill him.

The Hanged Man “The Bridge Maker” (1975).  Confession time, I have v little idea what this one was about apart from Ray Smith being an unlikely Eastern European dictator, as this whole series went over my head and was not really my thing.  (Ask @mariocki they’re cleverer than me and liked it & can probably explain the plot!)  I don’t know if it’s available anywhere off the DVD but on a JM scale it was v good/different as he was a coldly villainous head of security & it wouldn’t be too bad to watch alone, but there was an overarching plot going on somewhere.

Doctor Who “Underworld” (1978).  This is famously one of the worst serials in the whole of classic Who, but largely because of behind-the-scenes circumstances, not the guest cast.  There is some nice stuff, though, esp in Ep1 (JM is a near-immortal alien who’d like to lay down and die but still the Quest is the Quest as they say... a lot) & it’s bound to pop up on YT or Daily Motion.  The DVD has extras that include v v brief bits of JM speaking in his actual real accent (which he otherwise does in NONE of these) & making jokes in character.  Honestly, though, this is the only DW where the behind-the-scenes doc is genuinely the most exciting bit as they desperately invented whole new technologies & methods of working to bring us this serial, and then everybody wished they hadn’t.

*** Enemy at the Door “Treason” (LWT 1978).  This is a weird episode but I love it lots - from a (v v good) series about the occupation of the Channel Islands.  (So obv warnings for WWII & Nazis.)  JM is a visiting German Generalmajor, but he’s come for a very unusual reason - to ask for help from his brother-in-law, a blackballed British army officer (Joss Ackland).  It’s all weird and low key and JM is doomed and nevertheless probably my favourite thing of his that isn’t SotT.

* The Racing Game 2 eps (1979).  Adaptation of Dick Francis’s first Sid Halley novel Odds Against (ep1) + 5 original stories for the series.  This is an interesting one - JM plays Sid’s father-in-law & they have a lovely relationship that’s central to the book BUT Dick Francis loved this adaptation and Mike Gwilym who played Sid and was inspired to write a sequel Whip Hand, which he tied in with TV canon - and adopted at least three of the cast, including JM.  Which means that all the Sid & Charles fanfic is also JM fic by default and it’s quite impressive. (There’s not much but it’s GOOD.)  On YT.

Bergerac “Treasure Hunt” (1981).  Not a major role, but pretty nice & it’s one a Christmas ep of the detective show (also set on the Channel Islands) that involved Liza Goddard’s cat burglar, which was always the best bit of Bergerac.

His guest spots in Rumpole of the Bailey (1991) “Rumpole a la Carte” and Dr Finlay (1994) are both really just cameos, but both series come round on Freeview; the Rumpole one is funny and the Dr Finlay one his last screen appearance before his death the following year.

Not worth getting just for JM: Subway in the Sky; Bill Brand and Oppenheimer.

These films only have cameos but some quite fun ones and they come around on terrestrial TV: The Damned (1962), The Evil of Frankenstein (1964) & (more briefly) Far From the Madding Crowd (1967).  (I think his cameo in Connecting Doors must be at least recognisable as someone spotted him in it just based off my gifs, but it’s not come my way yet.)  I’ve never been able to get hold of any of his radio performances, not even the 1990s one.

ETA: I forgot The Power Game! This is the one surviving series where he occurs as a semi-regular (at least until halfway through S1 when he went off to the BBC to be in the now-burninated Hunchback of Notre Dame).  This isn’t standalone, but it’s a good series and it is on YT.  See how you go with crackly old TV before you brave it but it’s the snarkiest thing ever made about people making concrete and stabbing each other in the back.  JM is a civil servant who tries to run the National Export Board and is plagued by Patrick Wymark and Clifford Evans as warring businessmen.

***

[... Well, now I just feel scary.  0_o  In my defence, I have been stuck home bored & ill for years, and often unable to watch modern TV while trying to cheer myself up with James Maxwell, so I didn’t watch all of this at once.  It just... happened eventually after SotT. /waves hand 

But if anyone feels the need to unfriend my quietly at this point, I understand. /o\]

[yuki-carey]

@ssongpyeon This is part 2 of answering your ask! I would reblog my first post but when I do so it removes it from the tags... So yeah...

So. I said I'd give my heavier headcanons. So warning, this could be triggering to some people, because Beyblade is extremely damn dark, and this is only darker. (Triggers in the tags.) They’re headcanons about the show because the manga is another pair of hands.

-I headcanon that Doji is his uncle (his mother's brother), actually. I think Reiji's parents were very busy because they are rich, but not the kind to just sit on their wealth and accumulate more wealth, unlike most ultra-rich people, they actually work, but they have a terrible work/life balance so they often ended up neglecting their child(ren), barely hiring nannies to take care of him (them). Doji, on the other hand, was jealous of his older sister getting most of the money and power (even though he still received plenty of money himself), and that, along with the fact he's an awful person, was what decided him to create the Dark Nebula to get more power. Except at first he didn't know L-Drago existed, so he spent years and years coming up with different schemes and plans to take control. Ryuga became part of his schemes after some time, but their 'collaboration' was still relatively recent. Reiji on the other hand has been a part of this very early on, ever since Doji offered to "take care of him" (when he was ‪around 7-9‬ years-old?), and his parents agreed because they thought it was still better for him to be raised by his uncle than by strangers. (I mean, his mom was dubious at first because she knew her brother, but she assumed he was trying to apologize for their tense relationship.)

Obviously, this was all very wrong.

Doji, indeed, had just cooked up a plan that was a bit more likely to succeed than the others, and he needed a pawn for it to work. Someone naive, someone who would trust him blindly, someone he could bend and break and reshape as he wished. And who better suited for that role than a child who knew nothing of the real world?

Especially a child who already knew about Beyblade, and to whom he wouldn’t have to teach EVERYTHING about how to play. (Even if Doji didn’t yet know about the dark power at the time, he had still noticed how incredible beys could be, and he was able to tell that something could be done with that.)

Indeed, thanks to his connection with his bey, (and also because he would spent a lot of time training on his own, since he didn’t really have anything else to do,) Reiji was already quite a good blader (well, not THAT good but like... Acceptable for a child. And Doji didn’t really have any other choice anyway, so he couldn’t be picky.)

So Doji took him under his wing, and tried to use him without him noticing. After all, why would a child have doubted him?

... Except Doji is the most suspicious person ever, and that Reiji already didn't trust people much, because it seemed very weird to him that someone he didn't know would just take him in and be nice. (I can only imagine that during his childhood, kids hated him because his parents were rich so they assumed he could have anything he wanted, and that if he refused to share, it was because he was mean. It wasn't.)

So anyway Reiji didn't trust Doji, to the point where it made Doji's entire plan fail. Also because it wasn't a solid plan (I mean, have you seen Doji's ideas? Seriously? The man can't think for more than two seconds to save his life. Anyone whose plan is ‘step 1. conquer the world! Step 2. ???‘ can’t think for more than two seconds to save their life.)

The whole failure meant Doji had to find a new plan. And as previously stated, Doji is bad at thinking up ideas.

So Doji kept scheming, but also trying to understand what to do with his nephew (he couldn’t pretend he couldn’t stand him as an excuse to give him back to his parents, since he might have needed him again later on). He also felt that he actually had to gain his trust, otherwise he wouldn’t manage to do anything.

And to do this, he would have to do something. To create Reiji Mizuchi, out of this lonely, quiet, useless kid.

So he staged the kidnapping.

/!\ Alright so I warned there would be some triggering stuff in there. THIS IS IT NOW. If you wish to proceed, it’s at your own risk. /!\

So my headcanon is that Doji... Got random goons to kidnap Reiji, lock him up in one of his mansions for a few months (which would later on become one of the Dark Nebula’s headquarters, where Reiji was obviously not allowed)... And to torture him by putting electrodes on his head and giving him shocks, as they forced him to listen to the same words being said over and over again each time he was shocked —positive words, encouraging words, determined words... In one word... Friendship. Everything about friendship.

Want to make sure someone will never, ever have any friends, who could interfere with your plans and actually save the person you’re manipulating? Make the very concept of friendship hurt them like Hell.

And that’s what Doji did. And that’s why during his battle against Kenta, when Kenta starts talking about winning for his friends, Reiji... Loses it. Starts clutching his head, saying “it hurts, it hurts! It really hurts!!” Why would he be faking this? He is actually hurt. My headcanon (theory?????) is that his mind now associates the words/ideas with being shocked, which is horribly painful, and that this is what makes him freak out, and start going crazy (crazier than he was at least). To disprove this theory, you may say that he wasn’t hurt because of Kenta’s words, but because Kenta was about to beat him. To which I say no. Because otherwise, he would have similarly freaked out during his fight against Gingka. And he didn’t. He was extremely scared, but not hurt. He didn’t, as Doji put it, “have to use his true power”. (Sorry if my retranscription of what they said in the episodes is approximative, I’m relying on my memory and while I basically know the French version by heart, I don’t know the English one as well.)

Soooooo there you have it. But that’s not over. After the torture, when Doji deemed he was “ready”, he showed up at the mansion with three or four other goons disguised as cops who “arrested” the “bad guys” in front of Reiji’s eyes. In other words, Doji pretended that someone else had kidnapped him, but that he had been looking for him the whole time and that now he had finally found him, everything would be okay.

All of this to both earn Reiji’s trust, make sure that he would not make any friends (who could have proved to Reiji that Doji was evil), and even give him a good reason to make Reiji stay put (his excuse for basically locking him up in his bedroom being “so it’s easier to protect you”).

It was also a way to encourage him to become a better blader, “so you can protect yourself”.

So that’s what Doji did, keep Reiji alone in his bedroom, slowly becoming crazier and even more brainwashed as everything he had access to was controlled by Doji, everything he was told was said by Doji, everything he could watch on TV (to analyze other bladers’ moves and both learn from their techniques, and learn to hate them since unlike him, they never had to suffer) was recorded and put there by Doji...

And that’s how Doji created the perfect little monster, the perfect little puppet.

Later on, when he learned about the dark power, and learned the Hagane family was the one in charge of protecting it, all Doji had to do was to tell Reiji that hey, after years of searching for the one behind your terrible-horrible-awful tragedy, we finally found him, and his name is Ryo Hagane.

Which makes Reiji want revenge upon him. And what better revenge, whispers Doji after he realizes that Ryo was less of a threat than he thought and Gingka is the one to watch out for, than completely destroying Ryo’s most precious possession? No, not his bey, though it would kill two birds with one stone... But his darling, darling son. Annihilated, right in front of his eyes, as he watches helplessly. He pretends to be dead, that traitor, but we know it’s not true. He is merely hiding, hiding from his sins, so his crimes will remain unpunished. But he made a mistake. He didn’t realize that you — the one he broke, the one he hurt, the one he tortured without an ounce of pity — would be better than them all. Would not be weak. Would be powerful enough to avenge yourself. So go, my child.

Avenge yourself.

—> Okay so I... Went a bit off-course... But you get the idea. There you go. That’s... My main theory about Reiji’s past.

So yeah, I definitely agree with you about Reiji actually being the key element of at least one of Doji's ideas. Which made him, yes, Doji’s plan B should plan A (using Ryuga to get L-drago's power) fail.

-Though, I mean, I do have another theory. It’s a bit less comprehensive, but I think it’s interesting nonetheless.

It once again mostly focuses on Kenta and Reiji’s fight in episode 44 because that scene of Reiji freaking the hell out lives in my head rent-free. And it doesn’t just live in my head rent-free (I mean, all of Reiji’s scenes live in my head rent-free, it’s nothing special). But this one... This one has a fucking castle in my head, with twelve swimming pools and three parks. This one has underwear made of gold and a crown made of cheese. Hot digitty dang darnit.

It’s about Reiji’s snake eyes.

See, usually, his snake eyes are like this. You probably already know it.

HOWEVER, when he starts screaming about being in pain, as you may have noticed, his snake eyes become like THIS.

It’s not a mistake, as they stay like that the whole scene, starting when he starts hurting and ending only when Gingka interrupts the fight. It’s on PURPOSE.

So we have two options. Either you are a normal person, so you say “oh, this is symbolic”.

Either you are a completely deranged madman, and you go “well OBVIOUSLY it means Reiji’s snake eyes are devices given to him by Doji, and that have been made to electrocute him so he’ll go on a rampage whenever they are activated because he doesn’t understand where the pain is coming from and mistakenly assumes it’s caused by his opponent, when really it’s just Doji pressing a button”. And, since during Gingka and Reiji’s fight, Doji wasn’t there because he was fighting Ryo... It makes sense that he couldn’t have harmed Reiji.

Okay. I don’t actually believe this theory/headcanon. Or rather I don’t really like it because I prefer my other one. (Not that I actually believe in any of my headcanons, I just think they’re neat.) But the snake eyes are looking at me and the explanation ‘it’s symbolism’ only half satisfies me.

Alright... So that was it for my theories... The rest of my headcanons are more ‘tame’... And just, logical... It’s just what happens after Battle Bladers.

-he’s still kind of scared of Gingka (he’s very prone to nightmares) but it’s getting better

-obviously most of his nightmares are rather about the Dark Nebula...

-he also doesn’t like televisions for obvious reasons.

-he still likes Beyblade because he likes his bey, but he doesn’t actually fight anymore, at least for a while. But he may start again in the future.

-sometimes in my “after Battle Bladers” AUs I headcanon that someone who was outraged by his treatment of Hyoma and Kenta destroys his bey, while he is busy going through the trauma of having just lost, and a bit of dissociation as he realizes that 1) if we go with my first headcanon/theory, he sees he could not avenge himself; but most of all 2) he is not the strongest so he is actually vulnerable and can be hurt at any moment. (This being represented by him turning to stone.) The trauma is obviously even worse when he sees his bey is destroyed. (Okay this is sad so uh... Let’s say it makes him realize destroying beys is awful, no matter the reason... So Gingka and his friends forgive him... And Madoka fixes his bey... Yeah LET’S GO WITH THAT.)

-the person he hates the most is Doji (don’t we all)

-ever since he understood Doji lied to him for about half of his life, he has trust issues... It slowly gets better as he meets kinder people, but it’s still something he has to fight.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #286

“has he lost his mind? can he see or is he blind? can he walk at all, or if he moves, will he fall?”

Do you prefer having carpets or hardwood floors? Hardwood floors. Easier to clean and just looks better imo. When was the last time you took a bath? Is this something you do often or do you prefer taking showers? Not since I was a kid, probably. I don't like baths; it feels dirty. What’s your favorite way to style your hair? Do you do this hairstyle often or is it too much hassle for you? "I can’t style it any way." <<<< Mine is too short, too. Do you have a real or artificial tree at Christmas? We always use artificial. The mess isn't worth it. What’s your favourite snack to make when you watch a movie? Popcorn, of course. Do you prefer the Beatles or the Rolling Stones? The Rolling Stones. The only Beatles' song off the top of my head that I enjoy is "Hey, Jude," while there's a handful of Stones' songs I like. When was the last time you played a game of Monopoly? Did you play until the end or did everyone get fed up and start arguing? I'm pretty sure the last time was the PlayStation version at Jason's house. I don't recall if we finished it or not. Have you ever won money on a scratch card or the lottery? How much did you win and what did you spend it on? Maybe like, $10 or so? Mom or Dad would buy one for the hell of it rarely, and they always let us kids scratch it off because we thought it was fun for whatever reason. Have you been on a plane before? Where was the last place you travelled to? Yeah, multiple times. I went to Illinois last to stay with Sara for a couple weeks. Would you rather do a wordsearch or a crossword? Wordsearch. What’s your favorite colour of skittles? Red, duh. I always save those for last. Do you have a favorite TV detective (eg. Sherlock, Poirot)? What is it that you like about them? Does Dean Winchester count? I loved him when I was into Supernatural. He was so charismatic, funny, a wonderful big brother, and don't forget hot as fuck lmao. Were you ever in any positions of responsibility when you were in school? No. Do you need to wear glasses or contacts? How long have you needed to wear those for? I'd had glasses since high school. I'm blind as a mf. Do you talk in your sleep? Yes. Ocean or pool? Pool. Cleaner and less risk. I'll swim in either, though. What's your favorite song at the moment? "DEGRADE" by "3TEETH." I've been hooked on them lately. Ever met anyone famous? No. Do you feel that you've had a truly successful life? *blinks* Have you been in love? Absolutely. Where do you wish you were? Sara's would be great. Last thing you spent lots of money on? My Markiplier tattoo. Favorite restaurant? Olive Garden. What is your favorite kind of car? I really dunno. I don't know almost any car by name. I like slick-looking ones, though. AKA expensive ones lmao. What would you honestly do if you had a million dollars? Pay off a lot of things, first of all. For both myself and Mom. I know too well I'd spend a good deal on tats, but I'm quite sure I'd be disciplined enough to know what's more important. Are you more of a shy or outgoing person? I am VERY shy. Would you rather listen to new music or the classics? I tend to listen to music I already know. I go hunting for new bands and songs too rarely... Can you do a cartwheel? lol hell no Do you currently feel any sadness? I always do. Do you always respond to chain letters? I literally never do. I don't care what it's about. They're annoying. Do you spend too much time online? My life is online. It's depressing, and very. I usually don't know what to do with myself if I don't have access to it. What is your biggest annoyance? Right now, people not complying to COVID restrictions to help end this madness. Are you currently in a relationship? No. What do you like to do for fun? Watch YouTube, play WoW, write, read, take pictures... Not a lot. I've been stuck with anhedonia for years; not a lot of things give me any sort of pleasure, even the aforementioned things sometimes. Can you type without looking at the keyboard? Yeah. Do you ever feel like people use you? I've sure as shit felt it before. What role does religion play in your life? None. It's honestly a place of bitterness. Can you sleep with your eyes open? Noooooooo, that shit creeps me out. How often (if ever) do you use moisturiser? Pretty much never... but I need to considering my skin is dry as the Sahara. Have you had any of your wisdom teeth removed? What was the reason? (eg. infection, impaction, lack of space). No. What was the reason for your last hospital visit? I visited Mom after her surgery. Do you use a laptop, desktop, tablet or phone to take your surveys? Laptop. Do you have any debt? If so, are you on top of paying it all back? College debt, for sure. I dropped out three different times. No, I'm nowhere near on top of it. How often do you travel by public transport? Never. Do you have an Instagram account? If so, how often do you post on there and what kind of things do you post? I have three, haha. I don't post on any regularly enough... but I use my first one most. My "main" one is my primary photography one, and I have a second photography account for my darker/roadkill/"vulture culture" work. Lastly I made one for my pets... yes, I decided to be one of those people lmao. Are you close to your extended family? Do you wish you were closer? Definitely not, but we want to try to get closer. In Grammy's last days, she shared that she wished we were more "together" so much. Do you prefer to give your pets human names or not? Definitely not human names, at least usually. Have you ever used a fire extinguisher? Would you know how to use one without reading the instructions? No; I doubt it. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever had to deal with at your job? When I worked, impatient customers. What was the last thing you used your mobile phone for? Listening to music. While my laptop is kaput, I'm using an old one, but it's super slow so I'm just using my phone for music and videos. Did you used to play The Sims? What version or expansion pack was your favorite one to play? I loved the animals one; I went through a period of playing that a loooot. There was also an African wildlife one that I had, but that one was pretty boring, honestly. I never got into the human ones. What quality do you value most highly in others? Probably compassion. Who has made the biggest sacrifice for you? Mom. What was your best find from a flea market, garage sale, ebay or thrift? I got an AWESOME shipwreck w/ a sea serpent nightlight from the flea market once. What is one selfish thing you tend to do? Uhhhh I'm unsure. I try not to be selfish. Have you ever written a letter to a soldier? No, but man does this make me think of "Travelin' Soldier." I love that song so much, man. Always have. What do you use batteries for the most often? Ha, it used to be my mouse, but now that I have one that plugs up to the computer to charge, idk. What’s the smallest thing you’ve ended a relationship over? "I don’t think I’ve ended any kind of relationship over something small." <<<< Would you rather order a starter (appetiser) or a dessert? Or would you be able to manage a full three courses? It really depends on what I want and how hungry I am. If I had the first two though, I almost certainly couldn't handle a dessert. Have you or a member of your family been diagnosed with COVID yet? My older sister had it very badly to the point she wound up in the ER. It's no fucking joke. Aside from the necessities (eating, breathing etc.) what is something you do every single day, without fail? I was going to say “get on the computer” or something of the sort, but what if I don’t have access to technology that day for whatever reason? In that case, I’d think of Jason to some point. There isn’t a day that passes when he’s not lurking in my head somewhere. Is there anything you enjoy that’s considered childish for your age? What is it? Roleplaying. Some shows. I’m sure there’s plenty others. How many times a day do you use the bathroom? A LOT. If I’m drinking something, a lot of the time, I almost immediately have to go pee after a single sip. Do you need caffeine to wake up in the morning? What’s your drink of choice? I wouldn’t say I NEED it, no. I do regularly have my Mountain Dew in the morning in place of coffee tho lmao. That’s out of habit, though. Do you live somewhere with lots of livestock or wild animals? Livestock, absolutely. Wild animals, sure, so long you’re not right in a city. Well, even then, roadkill isn’t rare. Would you rather live somewhere rural or urban? RURAL. Mom and I are both having trouble adjusting to living in the suburbs. The only good thing is we’re closer to everything. Is there anything (a hobby, for example) that’s guaranteed to always make you feel better when you’ve had a bad day? Not absolutely without fail. If you’re struggling with your mental health, who are you most likely to open up to, or would you bottle it up instead? I VERY rarely bottle it up. That is so unhealthy. I confide in my mom, usually. What room of your house do you spend the most time in? Is this through choice or necessity? Ugh, my bedroom… but yeah, it’s choice. I COULD be in the kitchen or living room on the laptop, I just don’t want to for privacy’s sake. I’m waiting for the extra bedroom to be cleaned out to turn that into like my “dayroom” or “office.” I’m putting a desk in there, lots of motivational stuff, just things to inspire me to work. I NEED away from my bed. I only want to use it to sleep. If you have pets, do you snuggle with them when you’re having a bad time? Does it make you feel better? Well, it’s hard to “snuggle” with a snake, but I’ll still take her out sometimes and she gets comfortable against me for warmth. I do however definitely snuggle with my cat Roman, because he’s a total cuddlebug and super affectionate with me. How would you rate Stephen King as a writer? Shockingly, I haven’t read a novel by him. However, knowing stories he’s written and his genre, I think I’d absolutely love him. What movie are you looking forward to? Oh goodness, I have no idea. I’m totally out of touch with movies. Have you been to see an opera? No, they don’t appeal to me. What do you wish that you knew with more certainty? My career success. Of the following things, which would you most like to have more of? Drink, dreams, bed, drugs, lust, lies, hate, love, fear, fun, pain, flesh, stars, smiles, fame, sex: Love, of course. Would you ever consider working for the government? Absolutely not. What are the best and worst television channels? I don’t need to even watch television to tell you Discovery is best. Idk about worst. If you had a magical pencil and everything you drew became real what would you draw? Hm… if I drew like, Earth overlayed with a peace symbol, would that cause world peace? What would you like to touch? A wild (well, habituated) meerkat. Meerkats are just… so important in my life. Without them, I wouldn’t have met people who’ve greatly affected and even changed my life. I know the day I (hopefully) hold or pet one will be one where I cry. Does anything you own glow in the dark? I don’t know. Would you rather ride a dragon or a unicorn? Who the hell would answer “unicorn” to this???? Dragons are so so so superior. Can you make a balloon animal? No. How many glasses of water do you drink each day? Rarely more than two, if even that. What do you like in a poem, accessibility, crypticness, or something in between? I guess of these options, leaving some cryptic space, room for the reader to imagine. What I cherish most in poetry though is descriptiveness, but not to an excessive point where it’s just hard to understand. Who do you find yourself in constant conflict with? Why the conflict? MYSELF. I’m just so mad at and disappointed with myself. What subjects do you refuse to talk about? Why are you hiding from them? I mean, none, really. With some people I’m willing to talk about whatever topic. Greatest black and white film: Idk, I can’t recall enough. Greatest film three hours or longer: Troy. I adore that movie. I should watch it again…

[arelya-andaria]

For your very generous fic gift offer! E/C in the snow, any version you want :) Thanks!

Here you go! I had lots of fun with this one =D Thank you again for asking Jenny ❤

Escape to Lapland

They’d been married for many years now, and finding new ideas to travel had become increasingly hard. He’d gone and showed her so many things over the years, there were few corners of this beautiful Earth they hadn’t explored together.

Still, for their two-week holidays around Christmas time, she’d thrown the idea about going to Lapland.

“Wouldn’t it be nice?” she’d asked. “Imagine it. Just the two of us, together? Seeing the Northern Lights? A sleigh with huskies?”

So he’d agreed. With the cold, he could easily wear protection for his face and not frighten away the others on their travels. And it was somewhere he’d never been to yet. At heart, despite everything, he remained a child full of curiosity and wonder, always seeking more knowledge and discoveries.

They’d booked a nice hotel, a few kilometers away from the main city, where they could stay in small cottages. It was so cold outside, he’d been afraid of the damage to her voice, but it’d been cozy inside, and she’d loved it instantly. The big fireplace, toasty warm, the wooden panels all around, the nice hot Jacuzzi outside.

And snow, so much snow everywhere, she felt like a child back in Sweden, playing with it all day long, coming back home under a thick layer of freshly fallen snowflakes, her eyes bright from the excitement of the season.

They were in the middle of the forest, and the big pine trees were towering over their little cottage.

It felt as though they were lost in the woods, alone and at peace.

That first night, he tucked her into bed, and held her through the night, in their little cottage. He’d never seen such a dark sky, void of any light pollution. The stars were clear and bright, a tapestry older than the Sun.

The next morning, they got up and had breakfast and then they were off to spend a day in a sleigh pulled by huge dogs.

It was still dark, so close to the Pole their day was a few hours long, but to them, it didn’t matter.

The woman in charge was petite and her smile bright as the never setting sun of their summer. She rode behind them, urging on the dogs.

He was afraid, a bit, at first, even though he’d tried not to show it, but his wife hadn’t been fooled. Still, she’d held his hand tighter in her gloves, and curled against him as the wind whipped what little exposed they had.

It was a wonderful experience, sliding on the fresh snow, feeling cold and yet warm beneath their blankets, and the soft noise of the dogs’ paws hitting the snow, their heavy breathing, and the tongue commands of their leader. Deeper into the forest they went, and it seemed never ending. The trees were massive, high and old.

It smelled fresh and cold and clean.

After a few hours, they stopped to rest and feed the dogs.

In an endearing laugh, Christine fell down into the snow, and he was by her side in a heartbeat.

“What happened?”

“I’m just enjoying this. We’ll create Angels in the snow.”

“Angels?”

“It should fit you, shouldn’t it?”

He seemed at a loss, so she demonstrated, waving her arms up and down deep in the layers of snow, and slowly, he could see the shape of an angel emerge from under her.

“Oh. I see.”

“Come and join me, Erik.”

“I…”

“It’ll be fun! You’ll see. Trust me!”

He could never resist her eyes, so lovely, so bright, her enthusiastic smile.

So he sat down near her, and let himself fall as she’d done. It was strange, that feeling of cold underneath every muscle, but his clothes were protecting him well, and he didn’t feel wet or unbearably cold.

“Good. Now wave your arms. And your legs! We’ll take a picture together.”

Now that was what he would have liked to avoid, but she had a fierce, unbreakable mind. (And to have her face frozen in a photograph for the rest of eternity, well. Why would he ever say no, even if he was there to darken it?)

He followed her commands, and her soft laugh was the most exquisite sound he’d brought out of her throat.

When she got up, she still had some snow on her head and shoulders, and he gently brushed it off of her.

She kissed him then, couldn’t resist it. Lips that cold were an interesting experience for both of them. He would be sure to replicate it when they were home.

“Oh, look at him!” she said as she approached the leader of the dogs. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

He was huge and with bright blue eyes, his tail waggling wildly. She took off her gloves to run her fingers through his fur, loving how thick it was.

“That he is.”

“Come and pet him. He’s the nicest dog ever!”

She was already cuddling with the dog, his big warm head on her lap, as he tried to lick her face.

“I’m not sure it’s the best idea.”

“He wouldn’t hurt a fly, now, would you, big boy? Such a good boy!”

He approached her. It’d been a long, long time since his first friend and dog had appeared and then gone from his life. Afterwards, the heartache had prevented him from caring for them. But it was coming back.

He sat down, and she gently took off his glove to rest his hand underneath hers, petting the dog.

“See? Isn’t it nice?”

“Yes, indeed. Very nice.”

The way that dog looked at him, it melted a part of his heart. Full of trust and love.

True, animals had never cared about his face. And dogs were not always mean to him, either.

“I wish we had a bigger home and garden to get one of these magnificent softies,” she sighed.

“We already have a cat, and she’d be furious to know we’ve replaced her.”

“Oh, Ayesha wouldn’t mind. She’d be home in her basket, and he would spend days outside, running through the fields.”

“They need a cold climate, and much running, my love”

“I know. Still, it’s a nice fantasy, isn’t it?”

“Of course, my dear.”

A soft, warm sigh.

They got up, and returned to the sleigh for the other half of their journey.

*-*

Afterwards, she was feeling a bit restless from staying seated all along, and a bit playful too.

What better then than a malicious snowball fight?

“I hope you don’t plan on doing that, my dear.”

“Oh, come on, Erik! You know it’ll be fun.”

“I refuse. You’ll be drenched, catch your death and break your voice.”

She pouted, and then came to his side.

“Very well,” she said, grumpy.

“We’ll do something else, my dear. How about I…”

Splash!

He stilled.

Felt the cold of the snow ball slowly wet the back of his neck, sipping through his clothes, and turning his blood to ice.

“Got you!” she exclaimed, a cry of delight on her face.

He closed his eyes to escape from the absolute freezing cold, and smirked as well.

“You will be sorry you ever attempted that, my sweet.”

Gods, how she loved the hint of threat and wicked pleasure in his voice.

“Come and get me!” she called out as she ran away to hide behind a tree.

Still, he was fast, and lithe and quick on his feet, and a master at throwing, she found out.

He was never vicious, though, and kept his hands filled with ice to come and touch her delicate, warm cheeks. He threw with accuracy, but never too hard.

Despite it all, he was laughing, and she was laughing, and by the end, they were both wet, freezing cold, and yet red from laughter.

“You win,” she conceded, out of breath as she went back inside.

“It was an even match,” he admitted, joining her in the bedroom where they quickly dried themselves and changed clothes. “You have a very decent curve ball.”

“You surprised me a few times, and you’re bigger than I am, makes for an easier target.”

She went back to the living room, and sat down in front of the fire.

“Still, my dear, I had fun.”

He turned the fire up a little more and held her close on the sofa.

“So did I.”

A snowball fight. Here he was, past forty, discovering something all children had done at least once, in their lives, if they had access to snow. And not bad at all.

One day, perhaps, he would stop feeling so amazed at all the things she urged him on, at all the things he never thought he’d love, and then in fact he did.

*-*

“Join me for a swim?”

“You will not swim much in that pool, my darling.”

“Oh, you got what I meant. Will you?”

“Of course. Go ahead, and I will be right behind you.”

She smiled, and kissed him again, her hand soft as a feather against his scarred cheek. Her eyes burning as the warm embers in their fireplace.

“Don’t be too long, my love.”

There was a little shed next to the Jacuzzi, where they could take off their clothes.

The cold bit her skin every step between the shed and the warm, nearly too hot water, but the sigh of pleasure she let out when she was soaking all good and relaxed in the water was worth it.

Oh, to always feel this warm, the water so delicious against her skin, her face immune to the cold outside.

And she heard him, the rustle of clothes methodically taken off, about to join her, and she was burning again.

No matter how long it’d been since they fell in love, since they made love for the first time, since she saw his body and loved his body with all that she was, she was still this mixture of nervousness and excitement when she knew he would be with her. Her heart beat fast, and her skin was hot from both the water and the passion running inside her veins.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” she purred as he climbed inside the big tub, without the mask or anything else.

“I am so sorry, my dear. What shall I do to be forgiven?” he purred back.

“Mmm.”

He put his arms around her, and nuzzled her neck, lips both warm and cold against her fevered skin.

“Like this, perhaps?”

“Don’t be such a tease,” she moaned, closing her eyes as she gripped his hand, found support on his back.

“I am yours to command, my dear.”

“Be mine,” she whispered.

“As you wish.”

*-*

That night, after their lovely bath, they returned inside to cuddle in front of the fire. She was warm and pleasantly tired, her limbs heavy from exhaustion in the most delicious way.

“I think I’ll go to bed now. Join me when you’re ready.”

She kissed him, slow and lingering, the hint of more lovemaking to come.

“Don’t be too long,” she whispered against his lips.

“I promise I’ll be there in a minute.”

She smiled as she retreated to her room, her sleepy form as always soft and delicate in the firelight.

He settled back with his book, a melody floating inside his brain.

And then the light changed. A whisper outdoor, and he was drawn to the window.

One look, and he was striding to the bedroom, gently tugging her shoulder.

“Come, my dear. I think you’ll want to see this.”

“What?” she whispered as she got up, pulling her night robe over her pajamas.

He took her hand, and pulled her in front of the window.

“Look,” he whispered with a fevered delight.

She did, and held her breath.

Northern lights. The sky full of green and pink, waves of colors striking the deep dark blue.

“We need to go outside. To really see this.”

He nodded, and helped them both getting dressed for the cold.

Hand in hand, they stood right in their meadow, looking at the sky.

It was the strangest feeling, looking at what they’d hoped to find coming here. It was beautiful in pictures or videos, but they could never capture the feeling of it. They both knew very well what it was and why it was that way, but no matter how intellectually they’d researched it, the feeling was more than that curiosity. They couldn’t look away.

To see it with their own eyes, the wind and cold on their cheeks, as they got lost in those gentle rays of colors, the solar wind pulling at the magnetic field of the earth, green and pink and so many nuances, hints of red and blue and purple, in the entire sky overhead, so large and moving fast.

“It looks like the sea, in a way,” she whispered. “If you saw it with color filters.”

“Or the desert and dunes moving.”

She nodded, hugging him tighter. And it wasn’t silent at all, they heard something, like voices, both very high and very low, a chorus whispering only slightly out of reach, like a fevered dream.

Green waves, moving like wind made colors and flesh, and a whispering, the echo of forgotten times. Here time had no emprise, here it seemed nothing had changed for thousands of years.

Humans had been observing them for millennia, and would still marvel about the phenomenon long after they were gone.

“I didn’t think it would feel like this,” she whispered against him.

“I know what you mean”, he said, holding her tighter.

He could understand why people had come here before, and been awed at the display of lights and nature in its most impressive sight.

It truly was magnificent. Something was rising inside of him. It was tugging at their hearts, that melody, aching to be released, but she was the first one to join the heavenly choir; her voice reaching out to grasp at the stars and the beautiful green and purple lights.

And he couldn’t resist himself, his music pouring out of him as the feelings were too strong to be contained.

Communion of minds, bodies and souls, hearts entwined, under these Northern Lights.

Mystical and lovely, ancient and timeless.

They sang for a long time, keeping their eyes of that beautiful landscape, uniting their song in rhythm to the ancient one that had been sung here in this place since the dawn of time.

*-*

An hour later, it was over. The sky had returned black and heavy, filled with stars, galaxies moving across the sea of blue like slow comets waving them hello.

And their hearts were their own again.

For a while, they were silent again, ears still echoing of the beautiful sound.

“I can’t believe we saw them,” he whispered. For once, he was too shaken not to speak first. “It was mesmerizing.”

“I will never get over this experience. Never.”

She stepped back, to return to their house, her hand in his. And after a long wishful look, they went back inside, each carrying a tiny piece of that Art inside of them, inside their hearts, bearing the mark of such a show.

Sprinkled with starlight, it felt. Protected and cherished by an extraterrestrial wind. Reborn out of green lights diamond dust.

*-*

Turning to his books, he began reading to her, entwining one hand in her hair, beautiful golden locks shining in the firelight, the other holding the book. She had her head in his lap, her favorite position, nose in the shirt he’d put on.

She loved nuzzling near his chest, near his heart. Loved to finger the hem of his shirt and play sometimes with the soft hair underneath.

At times, of course, it became too hard to resist, and he would pull her up to kiss her. Most of the time, though, she was the one to throw the book away and pull him down to her lips. Safe to say he never resisted the appeal of his lovely, deliciously sensual wife.

A continuous honeymoon, no matter where they were. A snowy paradise was theirs this year, and they loved it.

“It’s much better than Tahiti, right? At least here we’re never too warm. And no mosquitoes, that’s perfect.”

He wouldn’t contradict her. His life with her was perfect.

And she echoed his feeling.

“Does it get any better than this?” she asked.

She would have cried, from how perfect she felt. How happy, plain and simple.

He felt his heart beating in the same rhythm as hers, her hair soft against his chin. At peace, too.

“I love you,” he simply said.

And she closed her eyes, burning with tears of joy, hugging him just a little tighter.

I hope you liked it!

[naturepointstheway]

Caught on a bad day (Life is Strange fanfic)

In the alternate timeline where William is alive, Chloe tells Max the latter caught her on a ‘good day’. What if Max had caught her on a ‘bad day’ instead?

Max pauses in the middle of the path to the Prices’ door, taking in the changes to the house before her, with its fully complete blue paintwork and the ramp--

Wait. A ramp?

The Prices never had a ramp. 

Shit, shit, shit. What else have I done?

She tries, and fails, to stop herself from imagining the worst. Did she hurt Chloe? William? Or perhaps Joyce? Surely, people need ramps to their house all the time, not just people who need more accessibility due to a disability or aging. William and Joyce weren’t even that old anyway, so why would they need a ramp? Or maybe they were fostering or had adopted a child who needed a wheelchair. That had to be it.    

Chloe. Chloe... please be okay, God please be okay... 

She takes a deep breath, another, another, and still her chest squeezes back in the vice of anxiety. Panic swells inside her, turns her stomach with that bottomless sick feeling as she walks up to the front door, her hand poised to knock. 

Okay Max, you can do this. Come on. 

 She tries to swallow, but her throat is too dry, too parched with apprehension as she knocks gently on the door, stepping back to wait until someone—please, please let it be Chloe—answers. 

Instead, it is William that answers the door, immediately breaking out into a warm smile on seeing Max. 

‘Max Caulfield, we thought we’d never see you again.’

A rush of nostalgia and relief on seeing William’s still-warm smile swells in Max’s heart, despite the shock at the changes so far.

‘I could never abandon Chloe like that. I might not have kept in touch, but…I couldn’t not see her again after coming back here.’

‘Come inside.’

William steps aside, and Max, trying to keep down the rising panic squeezing at her insides, walks into the hall of the house at once familiar and strange. She hears the door click behind her, followed by William’s voice.

‘She isn’t in her old upstairs room anymore, Max, instead we’ve converted the old garage into a new room for her. Makes it easier for her to get around. Got her wheelchair and everything now.’

Wheelchair. Chloe’s in a wheelchair. Shit what have I done?

Max steps up to the door that once led into a garage, but now leads into Chloe’s new room in this new timeline. What has she done to her best friend, her partner in time and crime? She tries to keep her composure as William addresses her once again.

‘I must warn you, Max, she’s having one of her bad days.’ 

Max stares at the door; it’s so not right that there is no ‘wrong way’ sign. 

‘W-what do you mean?’

‘You already know about her car accident two years ago. Has she talked to you about it?’ 

Shit, shit, shit. 

‘I...don’t think so.’ 

‘A driver illegally cut her off, and she ended up...’ a heavy pause. ‘The accident left her paralysed from the neck down.’ 

Max leans a hand on the door, willing herself not to pass out. Chloe...Chloe paralysed. Neck down. Unable to feel a thing. Unable to dance, let alone go out to enjoy concerts and go down in the mosh pit.  

I fucked up. Well done Max. You’re a loser. A fucking loser. You don’t deserve Chloe. She deserves a better friend than you.

William’s hand on her shoulder brings her back to the present, or whatever present this fucked up reality is. 

‘Max, you look like you’re going to pass out. Do you need to sit down?’

‘N-no, I think I’ll be fine. I need to see Chloe. Please. I haven’t seen her in five years. Will she be okay enough to see me?’ 

‘She has very regular headaches like now, as her body redirects all the pain toward her head.’ 

‘God.’ 

‘But I think she’ll be glad to see you, nevertheless.’ 

‘Thank you.’ 

‘Are you sure you don’t need to sit down?’ 

‘No, I think I’m okay.’ 

William, despite clearly looking concerned for her, knocks gently on Chloe’s door, and opens it just enough for Max to see it is dark inside, like all the curtains have been drawn. 

‘Chloe?’ 

Silence. William opens the door a little more, looks inside, before turning to address Max. 

‘I think she’s sleeping right now, but feel free to go inside. It’ll be a pleasant surprise for her to see you when she wakes up.’ 

‘Thank you.’ 

William stands aside so Max can step through the door, and stops still on the threshold, feeling the blood drain from her face as she surveys the dimly lit interior, and the bed with—

Oh god, Chloe! My Chloe!

It is wrong, so wrong, so very wrong to see her best friend motionless in a hospital bed, hooked up to a ventilator, a drip, and God only knew what else. Even in the dim light, Max sees the thick tube running from Chloe’s throat to the ventilator with its silent vital sign readings, and she hates herself more than ever. It’s so wrong to see Chloe without her usual blue hair, instead left as its natural blonde. Instead of punk posters and graffiti, the walls are nearly bare, save for a photo here and there, and what appears to be a pinboard with desperately few bits of happiness and comfort tacked to the cork. 

What Max wouldn’t do to tear apart the house until she finds that goddamn photo, to undo all of this, even at the cost of William’s life, undo, rewind all the last five years, until she’s back in her old timeline, back with an able-bodied, blue-haired Chloe, and not this...ghost...

She wants Chloe, her Chloe from her timeline, her beautiful blue-haired badass, who dared her to kiss her in another time, in another morning, in another life. She’d willingly hunt for another hundred bottles in the junkyard if it meant bringing back the Chloe she’d grown up with, running around Arcadia Bay in their pirate get-ups. 

Max takes a deep breath, forces herself to step over the threshold into the dimmed bedroom, hearing William close the door behind her as softly as possible. Chloe’s head is still turned to the side, looking for all the world like she’s in a peaceful sleep, were it not for the soft ventilator-aided breaths, or the drip in her arm, or that tube running from her throat. 

This is my fault. All my fault. I’m so sorry, Chloe, you didn’t deserve this. You deserve to dance, to go to concerts, to dye your hair blue, to fall in love, to stomp around the house in your big boots...to...what have I done to you. My fault. My fucking fault. 

Max can’t help but think that Chloe in this reality has never painted her nails electric blue, nor etched a tattoo on one arm that Max has, on more than one occasion, wished she could sit and trace and trail with her fingers, following its designs from forearm to shoulder. Now, instead of a tattoo needle carving art into her arm, it’s a drip delivering pain killers into her bloodstream. Rather than a necklace of bullets, she has a tube taped in place to her throat. 

She can’t bear to look at Chloe a second longer, not now anyway, and turns her attention elsewhere, immediately spotting a wheelchair in a corner, her heart dropping to the core of the earth at the sight. There is enough light for Max, on closer examination, to see it also has a tube similar to what Chloe in the bed has now. Max reaches a tentative hand to the wheelchair, tracing her fingers over an armrest before pulling her arm back, fingers covering her mouth, brows knitted together as she fights back tears. She can’t move her eyes away from the odd things at the top of the seat, where Chloe’s head would be were she in the chair. Max wonders if they were there to help keep her head still. 

I can’t believe I put Chloe in that chair...or the bed. 

Max tip-toes away from the chair, not wanting to wake Chloe, and takes note of the sign on the bathroom door, and manages the weakest of smiles at the words. 

Gas masks optional. That’s so Chloe. 

What she wouldn’t give to see that ‘wrong way’ sign again. Strange how one can miss such a little thing that otherwise might be ignored as part of the scenery. 

She doesn’t dare touch the huge computer screen nor the mouth-operated joystick; knowing her clumsy self, she’d probably break it, though there was no reason she couldn’t use rewind to fix it. Still, better safe than sorry. She allows her fingers to trail along the edge of the desk, one foot in front of the other, back toward Chloe’s bed, and stops when she sees a familiar bracelet with spikes. Picking it up, Max allows a little pinprick of relief to see some sign of the Chloe she knew from her old timeline. 

Still a punk at heart, Chloe. Never change. 

Strange how something as small as a punk bracelet with spikes could make her feel just a tiny bit calmer, at least until she catches sight of the drip right in front of her, delivering morphine to her best friend’s bloodstream. She wishes she can block out the whoosh of fluid flowing from the drip into Chloe, lying so still right there.

Legs weak and shaky, Max moves to the small wooden chair across from the bedside, lifting it up to move it closer, but not too close, to Chloe. Slumping back into the seat, Max watches Chloe sleep for a moment, sees the way her chest rises and falls with each shaky breath, before she leans her elbows on her knees, letting her face drop into her hands, palms pressing into her eyes. 

It isn’t long before Chloe’s voice, hoarser and wearier than Max ever heard it, drifts into her ears. 

‘Either I have so much fucking morphine in me that I’m hallucinating seeing Maxine Caulfield, or you really are here. The fuck you been the last five years.’ 

Max raises her head to see Chloe has woken up, her face turned in her direction. But instead of the pissed off look Max expected, her heart skips a beat to see, instead, the smallest of smiles, one she hasn’t seen since...this morning, really, when she woke next to Chloe on her double bed after a night at the swimming pool at Blackwell. The smile, though sullied by the tension of pain in her eyes and the corners of her mouth, is still enough to melt Max’s heart. 

‘C-Chloe!’ Max has to use all her willpower not to immediately jump up and draw Chloe into a hug, lest she hurt her. ‘I’m really here.’ 

‘Damn, perfect timing as always, Max. You caught me on a craptastic day, dude. Shame, since we haven’t even seen each other in five years. Liked your letters and selfies but… could’ve made an effort to visit more often.’ 

‘I’m the worst.’ 

‘How long have you been here watching me sleep anyway, you creep?’ Max relishes the snarky tone—so Chloe. 

‘Not long, actually. William told me you were having one of your bad days.’ 

Chloe grimaces, turns her head so she stares up at the ceiling. ‘You have no idea. Doped up all day on morphine and my head still feels like it’s gonna implode. Or explode. Whichever happens first.’ 

‘Ugh, sounds crummy.’ 

‘God, I hate this. All of this.’ Chloe nods over at the machines, ‘Two years of this crap. Prick. Ditched my car with his SUV. Woke up in hospital unable to feel a thing, let alone move a muscle. Back snapping like a twig was last thing I felt.’ 

A shiver prickles at Max’s back, and she can’t help a little shudder of horror. 

‘Jesus. I... I don’t know what to say.’ 

‘Don’t.’ Chloe clenches her jaw, squeezes her eyes shut. ‘Fuck. Fuck. Sorry. Talk makes it worse.’ 

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother you.’ Max can’t help a twinge of guilt.

‘Shut up,’ Chloe’s voice is softer, but still painfully hoarse, ‘I’m glad you’re here.’ 

‘You are?’ 

‘Um, I haven’t seen you in five years. Of course I am. Makes a change from my usual visitors.’ 

‘Visitors?’

‘All the friends who never visited me or just left me all together.’ 

‘Chloe, I should have visited you more.’ 

‘Not like we could just waltz out of here anyway.’ 

‘I’m never leaving you again, Chloe, okay? I mean…if you need rest, I can leave you alone, read a book.’ 

‘Or we can still chat like old times,’ Chloe’s voice sounds more strained than before, her eyes closing almost against her will, ‘Don’t be surprised if I drift off again.’ 

Max allows a hint of gentle teasing into her words. ‘I’ll just think you’re bored of me talking about photos.’ 

‘Hey, if it helps me drift off with this fucking headache...can’t even with sunlight. Way too bright. Makes it even worse.’ 

‘It’s almost sundown.’ 

‘Still messes me up.’

‘That bad.’

‘All the pain is redirected to my brain. Funtimes.’

‘That sucks.’

‘You don’t say. No need to feel too sorry for me. I can do that by myself.’

‘You’re a survivor, Chloe.’

‘Platitudes I’ve heard before.’

Max hears a hint of that old familiar bitterness buried in Chloe’s words. Sure, not as bitter, nowhere near, but still, there it is.

‘I mean it, really.’ Max reassures her.

‘Doesn’t help when I’m like this. All doped up to eleven, and yet in so much fucking pain.’

Max glances back over her shoulder at the bathroom built for Chloe, still with that sign that is just so her. She turns her chair around a little so she faces Chloe more directly.

‘Your parents do so much for you. They really do love you. You’re here.’

‘More like they’re here for me, Max. They can’t even take a walk alone. It sucks.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry for what? For me? No thanks. I get enough of that from people. I’m not an invalid, you know, lying here like some dying woman in a Victorian novel.’

There is a long pause, and Max casts around for something, anything else to say. Clearly, Chloe was not putting up with pity, something even Chloe in her original timeline wouldn’t put up with. She hated fake people, platitudes, and pity, and this timeline’s Chloe was no less different.

‘You have an impressive set-up with the computer.’

‘I can at least watch concert videos on that beast. And check out all the concerts. Hate myself for not being able to see them. Not today though, I’m in way too much pain to listen to any pirated youtube videos of concerts.’ Her words are broken by a series of dry coughs. ‘Throat’s dry already. Haven’t talked this much in a while. See if there’s water left in my cup. It’s on the dresser.’ 

Glad for something to do, Max stands up, walking over to the dresser with the cup of water. Grabbing the cup, she sloshes it around a little to check how much water there is in it—it seems to be nearly full. She returns to Chloe, sitting down next to her on the bed, bringing the cup close enough to Chloe’s lips so she can take a sip from the straw. 

‘Drink up, buttercup,’ she hears herself say, watching as Chloe drinks from the straw, eyes never leaving Max’s face. Max almost can’t bear to see how much love and gratitude there is in those soft blue eyes, pupils large in the dim room. She had forgotten how Chloe’s eyes had looked, before being hardened by bitterness and trauma from a world that had abandoned her. This Chloe had none of that trauma, and so her eyes were softer and more beautiful than Max ever remembered them to be. 

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—

Chloe presses her head back into the pillow, turning her mouth away from the cup, obviously having taken her fill. 

‘Thanks, Max.’

‘Always happy to help.’ 

‘Next time, grab me a beer.’ 

‘That’s…not going to help headaches.’

‘Wet blanket. I was joking.’ 

‘I know you were,’ Max assures as she replaces the drink on the dresser, ‘Is there anything else?’ 

‘Think...I might rest a while, Max. Like I said, caught me on a shit day. Go take some pictures or something.’ Chloe turned her head to nod at the shuttered window, with golden light leaking around the corners. ‘What do photographers call this time? Everything looks amazing at this time.’ 

‘The Golden Hour.’ 

A long pause, Chloe still staring at the curtained window, as though to reflect on this new piece of knowledge. For a time, there was little noise except for a bird twittering outside and the ventilator working to help her breathe. Max thought she might have drowsed off when Chloe turns her face back again to Max with a wan smile, her forehead crinkling with pain, eyes closed.

‘Learn something new every day, Max. Now thanks to you, I know.’ 

Max waits a few more minutes, still looking over at the window, imagining the view beyond. She realises she had not paid any heed to anything that was outside, but then again, her mind had been thinking only of one thing—or person, rather. Chloe, now lying before her in a bed, unable to move anything below her neck, stuck day and night, not unless she was in her wheelchair, able to move around at will, wherever she wanted. But all the most modern wheelchairs in the world could not undo her paralysis, could not help her feel anything below her neck again. 

Convinced that Chloe has dozed off again, Max quietly leaves Chloe’s side, returning to the bedroom door, opening it to the soft golden light of sundown. The house seems to be very still, except Max can smell something delicious wafting from the kitchen, and her stomach growls in anticipation of dinner. No doubt Joyce is in there cooking up a meal; Max wonders if Chloe eats much, and this idle thought is chased immediately by a jolting realisation that she likely has to be hand-fed her meals. 

God. No dignity for her. This sucks. Oh Chloe...

Bills and opened envelopes lie on both dressers and table, and Max cannot help but take a quick glance at them, without touching or being too obvious about it. She carefully suppresses any outward reaction on seeing the horrific bills they have to pay, even just for Chloe’s basic supplies. A newspaper article on the table catches her eye, and her hand flies to her mouth as she reads about the mysterious whale strandings on the beach. 

Has this anything to do with my powers? What the hell am I doing?

Strange how seeing an article on the stranded whales she’d seen earlier on the bus ride from Blackwell Academy really hit it home for her. This surely could not be a coincidence after the snow, the eclipse, and flocks of dead birds. Was the storm coming in this reality too? 

She was just fucking everything up, that’s all she was doing. 

Trying to take her mind off this shit, Max drifts to the sliding door facing out into the yard, spotting at once that their old board with their innocent childhood drawings had been moved from the space it usually inhabited in her original timeline. Why over there, across from what used to be the garage…

Oh. 

No doubt Chloe wanted it moved so that she could see it from outside her window whenever she could. So she could remember Max, even though there had been no visits from her for five years. No doubt seeing a reminder of Max gave Chloe hope that the former would come back someday to visit, and today that wish had finally come true. 

How fitting that the wish had been granted at the golden hour, a time that granted a touch of magic to every photographer’s framed shots. If only Max had her camera now, she might have taken a photo or two of the painting tinged by sundown, or of the bird on the fence, its feathers dusted with evening light. 

 A few hours pass Max by, spent exploring and reflecting on changes in this old familiar, and unfamiliar, childhood home away from home. She could not bear staying long in Chloe’s old room, bereft of the smell of weed and stale pizza, of the clutter of beer bottles and cans and piles of unwashed laundry, and the walls naked for want of punk posters and graffiti borne of a life ‘dipped in shit’ as Chloe had so colourfully described it yesterday. 

But then she is summoned to the stairs, eventually, by Joyce calling for Max, that Chloe is awake, that she wants to see her again. Chloe’s headache has simmered down a good bit, Joyce says when Max joins her at the bottom of the stairs. Not by much, she hastens to warn, but enough that she can talk again with Max, at least for a little while. 

Max doesn’t hesitate for even a moment, rushing back into Chloe’s room, shutting the door again behind her. It is still very dim inside, a small lamp on a dresser the only source of light, aside from the glowing screens of the machines hooked to Chloe, and the heat lamp’s glow. Again, Max’s heart skips a beat when Chloe catches her eye with a smile. 

Has she always been this beautiful when she smiles?

Max makes her way back to the chair next to Chloe, settling herself in it as she had before, stretching her legs out in front of her, at a loss for what to say.

‘Dude, stop.’ 

Max blinks in confusion, staring at Chloe. ‘Stop what?’

‘Feeling sorry for me. My parents and I do enough of that on our own.’ 

‘I just never expected it to be...like this...’ 

‘Well you never made much effort to find out either.’ 

‘I’m sorry.’ 

‘Just because I’m like this doesn’t mean I can’t do anything. Fuck, getting my wheelchair after months motionless in bed was so...freeing. Could actually move my ass around without help.’ 

Max glances over at the wheelchair in the corner. ‘It looks...very high tech.’ 

'My parents made sure to get the best. Even if it bankrupts them.’ 

‘All of this looks so impressive.’ 

‘I can go online, talk shit with other people, listen to music. I’m not just...sitting here like a sentient Christmas tree.’ 

‘What kind of music? Classic?’ 

‘Uh, no fucking way am I listening to that. Punk, rock, that’s more my thing. Something I’m sure you’re way into, right.’ 

Max can’t help but laugh a little, half in relief that this Chloe still likes the same music. ‘Uh...not really.’ 

‘Figured.’ 

A pause slips between them, Max shifting on the chair as though to find another comfortable position, while Chloe turns her head to study the ceiling. 

‘Sorry to be boring tonight, Max. We totally would’ve hung out on the beach or something.’ 

‘What? No, no you’re fine,’ Max leans forward, touching a hand on the blankets near where she thought Chloe’s arm was. 

‘I would totally watch Blade Runner tonight with you, but…pain. Joy.’ 

‘Do you…need more painkillers? Should I ask—’

‘Nah, stay,’ Chloe’s gaze falls back to Max, ‘Being here with you makes it less shitty. Really. I’m so glad I got to see you today, it took you long enough to visit me.’ A smile lilts on her lips, reaching her eyes, so stark in both gentleness and not-quite-hidden pain. ‘Seeing you here…reminds me so much of when we were kids running around Arcadia Bay, playing at pirates. Seems like so long ago when we were that young.’ 

Max lets out a soft sigh of nostalgia. ‘Seems literally like yesterday to me.’ 

‘Time flies, doesn’t it?’ 

‘We should’ve taken over Arcadia Bay while we still had the chance.’ 

‘But you will. You still have time, Max. And you’ll be photographing every little thing along the way.’ 

‘You know me well.’ 

Chloe winces a little again in pain. ‘Fuck. Shitty timing. Max, do me a favour?’ 

Max stands up, ready to do anything for Chloe. If she needed the world, the moon, hell even goddamn Pluto, she would do it. Chloe deserved so much more than this. 

‘Anything. Anything you want, I’ll do for you.’ 

An impish grin tugs up Chloe’s lips, her blue eyes catching Max’s. ‘Anything, huh? Because hot monkey sex would be nice right now too.’ 

Max opens her mouth to say something, but no words come out, even as a blush creeps up into her cheeks and she has to look away, hearing Chloe’s teasing laugh, pulling at her heart with its familiarity.

‘Oooh look, I made Maxine blush!’ 

Omigod, Chloe. You’re impossible. 

‘I…I’m…’ 

‘God, Max, you’re so adorable sometimes. Can you look in that drawer over there?’ 

Max finds the drawer Chloe wants her to open, and sees nothing but several tubs and tubes of medicated lotion.

‘Keeps my blood circulating. Or makes my headaches fuck off a little more.’ 

‘You need some right now?’ 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘Uh which one?’ 

Max finds the one Chloe wants and brings it over to her, unscrewing the cap. 

‘What should I do?’ 

Chloe gives her a look, raising an eyebrow. ‘I don’t know, unscrew the cap, pour lotion in your hand, rub hands together, then massage lotion onto my forehead and temples. Simple enough instructions.’ 

‘Think I can follow those instructions.’

Chloe closes her eyes as Max rubs her hands together, sitting next to her on the bed, placing her hands on Chloe’s forehead, feeling how soft her skin is under her palms, fingers massaging lotion into her temples as gently as she can, feeling the brush of Chloe’s hair over her fingertips. Close up, Max can see the deep bags under Chloe’s eyes, the very faint line forming between her eyebrows, and how thin and pale her face has become from so much pain and weariness. It’s strange to think this Chloe is nineteen, same as her Chloe in her old timeline, and yet she seems so much older beyond her years. 

Am I the same when Chloe looks at me, whether here or in my old time?

Her hands, so tender and careful, now still on Chloe’s cheeks, cupping her face between her palms, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. 

‘Is…is that making it better?’ 

‘You’re good at this—hell of a lot better than the nurses.’ 

Max can’t help a little smile, moving a hand up to brush some of Chloe’s hair back from her forehead, letting the blonde strands slip between her fingers. 

‘Always wanted coloured bangs,’ Chloe says in a whispery tone, ‘Like Pris.’ 

‘Who?’ 

‘Blade Runner.’ 

‘Oh…I see. You’d look amazing with blue hair.’ 

‘Weird. I would have said the same for me.’ 

‘With a cool beanie to top it off when you go outside.’ 

‘Dressing me with your eyes are you, Max? Normally it’s the other way around.’ 

‘N-no, I mean...you’d look stunning.’ 

‘Never change, Max.’ 

Max draws her hands a little away from Chloe’s face. ‘How’s the pain now?’ 

‘Lot better than earlier today, and not as bad as it would be without you here.’ Chloe’s eyes open, meeting Max’s with a sleepy, yet achingly glad, expression. ‘You’ve made my day being here at all. Can’t believe we’re already on the cusp of adulthood.’ 

‘Yeah…me too.’ 

‘I keep wanting to go back to that time, when we were dorky kids covered in pancake flour…I still have that photo somewhere.’ 

Max’s breath catches in her throat, heart hammering. ‘You do?’ 

‘Yeah, in the album on my dresser over there,’ Chloe nods toward the wall beyond her ventilator. ‘Tomorrow morning, we can go on a trip down memory lane, get all mushy about ye olde days. Not tonight, not up for it.’ 

‘I can wait until morning,’ Max assures her, ‘I’m just happy we’re together again.’ 

‘Me too, Max. It’s been too fucking long.’ 

In this reality anyway. Was it just this morning Chloe had dared her to kiss her, and ended the day with an argument in her truck? Meanwhile, for this Chloe, and this Max, five years had passed since the last time they’d seen each other. At least this timeline’s Max made some effort to bother keeping in touch, even if she never visited. 

Max slung her legs up on to the bed, lying back as gently as possible until her head is next to Chloe’s on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. She allows her eyes to close, just for a minute or two, relaxing against Chloe next to her, trying not to think about how she cannot even feel the presence of her best friend next to her in the bed, like this was just another one of their old sleepovers. 

‘Some sleepover, this, isn’t it?’ Max whispers, seeing Chloe turn her head toward her out of the corner of her eye. ‘I mean…when was the last time we had a sleepover?’ 

‘Right before you left, actually,’ Chloe whispers back, ‘I missed our sleepovers. Or, rather, when you came here to sleepover with me.’ 

Max turns her head to meet Chloe’s gaze, heart skipping as she sees how close their faces are to each other. She still cannot believe this is the same Chloe she knew from her old life. So different and yet still just the same in so many ways. She wonders if this Chloe would ever have double dared her to kiss her. 

‘I remember. I don’t think we ever slept so much as stayed up as long as we could. We always pretended we slept all night.’ 

‘My parents always saw right through that.’ 

Max laughs a little, nostalgia mixed with sadness. ‘Yeah. Yeah they did.’ 

Chloe’s face softens into a small smile, her eyes never leaving Max’s, even as her eyelids start drooping again, drowsy from so many pain meds.

‘Max…you’re…you’re the only one I grew up with…who’s visited me…ever…’

Max shifts so she’s lying on her side, facing Chloe, foreheads just touching, the tickle of a strand of blonde hair against her own.

‘Chloe, I promise, I’m never abandoning you again. I’m never leaving you.’

A soft sigh, Chloe’s head tips a little against Max’s. ‘I love you, Max.’

Max allows her own eyes to close, drowsy from the stifling warmth from the heat lamp, and being so close to Chloe she could have kissed her again, like she had that all-too-brief moment this morning. She’s amazed she’s already so tired, her mind a whirl of shock, fear, love, and nostalgia, and still she finds herself drifting away, Chloe next to her.

Love you too, Chloe.

The photo could wait until tomorrow morning. For now, all that mattered was this Chloe, in this lifetime, in this thread of time.

[buckyownsmyheart]

Training Day and The Bet [one-shot]

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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1,500+

Summary: There is only one way to settle a bet. Spoiler - it involves sexual tension and an extreme game of laser tag

Warnings: miniscule amounts of swearing

A/N: This is for @itsbuckysworld summer writing challenge! Massive thank you for letting me take part. The prompt was "What can I say, I have a weakness for people that can lift me over their heads”, and I had an absolute blast writing it!

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This was it. The time that everyone was waiting for. The first Friday of every month. Training Day. Where the entire team played a game under the premise that it would help teambuilding and tactics. Last month, the team tried their hand at go karts (obviously to aide their get-away driving), the month before that had been paint-balling. Others included capture the flag and a particularly intense game of hide-and-seek with a twist. The twist being the sniffer dogs that Tony deployed unexpectedly. 

Today was laser tag and this was the game that mattered the most because of the bet that had been going on between you and your fellow Avenger, Bucky Barnes. Since you joined the team 2 years ago, you had formed a strong love-hate relationship with the man, and it had only intensified with time. So maybe you wished the relationship was more love, but there was no way that you would admit that you often dreamt of the way his muscles rippled in the gym, or the way his eyes sparkle after he’s told a corny joke, and how you ask him to plait your hair, just so you can relish in the feeling of his fingers scratching at your scalp. That was a secret you would take to the grave, and at least your current friendship allowed you to spend more time together, even if it was to make jibes at the other. 

It all started in one of the first training days that you had participated in. You had headed one of the teams and Bucky led the other. You narrowly won, and after many untrue accusations of cheating, a rematch was set for the next month, and the month after that, until a bet was set. The first to win 10 games won the bet. If you won, you got his prized Harley Davidson motorcycle. However, if he won, he got your room. Your room was well renowned by the Avengers to be the best in the compound. It had the best view, looking over the forest with the sea in the distance, and the fact that it was next to the swimming pool was an added bonus. There was absolutely no way in hell you were letting him have it. You were currently running at an 9 all tie, meaning that this match was the decider.

With Natasha and Sam away on mission, your team consisted of Steve, Bruce and Peter. Bruce often played a key planning role, but on the field, he was a bit of a liability, and refused to answer to code green. Peter often got distracted. Apparently, he needed full on violence with a detailed backstory to be able to fight a fight. So, there was that. You couldn't trust Steve not to take Bucky's side, no matter how much he promised not to, meaning you were in a bit of a dilemma.

Bucky's team was Tony, Rhodey and Clint. Rhodey was the one who had recruited you after a particular tour in the marines, but no matter how hard you tried to persuade him to spy for you, he refused. Damn his loyalty and good morals. Tony was no use either, he couldn't be bribed and was far too competitive against Steve to let you win. Your last hope was Clint, who was pretty useless in these games; he usually hid in the vents before swooping down in the last minute and claiming victory. 

Both teams were sitting in the briefing room where you and Bucky were going through the rules.

"No cheating," Bucky listed, "No tampering with the electric vests, no powers."

"No external influences," you cut in, staring pointedly at Tony, "Canine or otherwise. You know the rest, team footloose with me to talk tactics."

"Team hotshot we’ll stay here.”

Once you gathered in your respective teams, the plan was set into motion. Peter was already giving everyone codenames; he had been watching lots of James Bond recently and was getting very much into it. You were Eagle, and to be honest, you were pretty chuffed with it. Bruce was Eeyore, for his docile manner and maintenance of a realistic, if somewhat pessimistic, outlook on life. Steve was Eton Mess, due to his blonde hair, pale complexion and now slightly burnt nose from a mission the week before, and Peter was Excel. The reasoning behind that is unclear. You think he just really likes Excel.

"Alright," you began, "You all know how important this is to me. Bucky cannot win, under any circumstances. There's a lot riding on this, and if he gives me one of his damn smug smirks, someone will die. He's beyond competitive and will take any opportunity to rub it into our faces."

"Come on, (Y/n)," Bruce said, "You're just as competitive as he is!"

"That's absurd, I'm far more competitive and you know it." You stated, before continuing with the plan. "Peter, you're gonna go all sticky on those vents and flush out Clint, I turned off his hearing aids this morning, so it'll be easier for you to sneak up on him. Bruce, I need you to try and engage with Rhodey, distracting him with talks of peace and all that shit, before taking him out. Steve, I need you on Tony. He'll be flying high in the suit, trying to suss out the plan from above. You need to lay low until he hits the ground, and then take him out once he gets cocky. I'm going to take down Bucky, and he will suffer."

⁎⁎⁎

Half an hour in, and the plan was working. Mostly. Peter had successfully taken out Clint, but Tony had managed to shoot Bruce from above before he could talk to Rhodey. Steve shot Rhodey in the distraction, but Tony got him too. You had managed to shoot Tony whilst he came down to gloat to Steve. You had allowed yourself a small smirk before finding Bucky. Peter was still hidden in the vents and had taken to talking in your ear at a rapid pace.

"Eagle! Eeyore said that bird's eye view was the easiest option, so maybe we should rendezvous at East exit where Eton Mess was eliminated, Excel over."

"That was a hell of a lot of E's there, Parker," you spoke quietly into the comms. "We're gonna need to clarify these codenames because we are barrelling towards a misunderstanding."

The comforting weight of the rifle in your arms allowed you to focus on the task ahead, whilst ignoring Peter’s blabbering into the radio. You stalked along the side of the building, holding your breath. As you were about to round the corner, you saw him. Bucky was stood behind a low wall, pointing his rifle over the top and very much on guard. He made a move towards the building that you had been heading for, and you pointed your gun to aim at him. As you looked down your sights, you saw Peter also pointing his gun at Bucky.

"No!" You shouted, hurtling towards Bucky. You barely registered Bucky's shocked face before you lifted him over your shoulder in a fireman's lift, and slammed him against the wall he had been standing behind moments before. You'd be damned if after all this you weren't going to be the one to take Bucky down. You needed as much gloating material as possible. Before you could act further, Bucky threw you against a make-shift boulder, pressing his entire body against yours. As he pinned you down, you felt an unmistakeable hardness against your upper thigh, and you had to fight hard to keep a smile under control.

"What are you doing?" He growled.

"Wanted to make sure I was the one who shot you," you smirked, "But now it seems I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place." You raised an eyebrow and peered down at the offending appendage.

Bucky moved back from you, his eyes wide. A pink blush dusted his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Despite his clear embarrassment, he let out a gentle laugh.

"It would be so much less hassle if you two just kissed and got it over with," Tony interrupted your moment. He had clearly given himself access into your comms as well. In response, before Bucky could do anything, you pushed him back onto the opposite wall, pressing yourself into him, and leaned close to his ear.

"Whaddya say, Sarge?" you whispered, making sure your breath reached his neck, and relished when goose bumps appeared, "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it."

"What can I say, I have a weakness for people that can lift me over their heads." He murmured back, his lips moving against your neck as his deep voice reverberated through you. He dropped his rifle and wound his arms around your waist.

Before he could get a grip on you, you stepped back, aimed your rifle at his chest and fired. His vest lit up red, the lights flickering to show he had been killed, and you were victorious. You couldn't help the smug smile that formed on your face as the look of shock and subsequent rage laced Bucky's features.

You turned, and before strutting away, you called over your shoulder. "At least ask me out first, and to think I thought you were a gentleman!” You paused for emphasis, turning slightly in his direction to gauge his reaction, “I've recently acquired a new mode of transport though, so I can come pick you up." And with a joyful laugh and a wink in his direction, you went to join the rest of your team, swinging your rifle over your shoulder. Boy did victory feel good. Nearly as good as Bucky pressed up against you, but that was for another time.

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[tooanchorkingdom-blog1]

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