#it was only 25$ but the record sleeve was browning and I don’t think it would have kept well for much longer

[ur-local-neighborhood-scene-kid]

I saw an “mlp G1 the movie” record at a collectibles shop and it said that DANNY DEVITO STARRED IN IT

I didn’t get a pic and I didn’t buy the record but MAN was I shocked. I think he played the elf/gnome guy that was featured on the cover, but I would have LOVED to see him voice a pony

[rhys-writes-sometimes]

Music Worth Making Part 1: Bright Forever

Requested: nope!

Warnings: abuse, child neglect, shitty parents, death, food, terrible writing

Series Summery: When the reader’s life is ripped away from them, they’re distraught. But with her two best friends and three certain ghosts, maybe the afterlife isn’t so bad after all. 

Chapter Summery: The band Sunset Curve was about to have a life-changing concert when they ate some bad hotdogs and died. 25 years later, you’re best friends with the girl who discovers them. 

Words: 3,026 

A/N: This is pretty much just introducing the characters and their relationships to one another. Things will get more interesting in the next few chapters.Also, the reader is non-binary! <3 lyrics are italicized Part 2 ______________________________________________________

Hollywood 1995

“Don’t look down, ‘cause we’re still rising up right now, and even if we hit the ground we’ll still fly, keep dreaming like we’ll live forever, but live it like it’s now or never.”

The teenaged boys finished their soundcheck, earning scattered applause and even a “whoo!” from the employees working at The Orpheum that night. The band didn’t try to hide their smiles as they took a bow. 

“Thank you, we’re Sunset Curve!” one called out.

“Tell your friends!” another added. 

“Too bad we wasted the tightest we’ve ever played on a soundcheck,” one said as they set down their instruments. 

“Wait until tonight man, when this place gets packed with record execs.”

The boys all nodded, thinking of all the chances of fame they would have after that night.

“Okay, well, I’m thinking we fuel up before the show. I’m thinking street dogs?”

Two of the other boys liked that idea, but the other one had other plans.

Jumping off the stage, he started to make his way over to a young woman who was wiping down tables.

“Hey Bobby, where you going?” the one who had suggested they go get street dogs called out.

“I’m good!” he called out to his bandmates, then said to the girl: “Vegetarian. I could never hurt an animal.” 

“You guys are really good,” she said with a smile as the other three guys joined their band member at her table. “I see a lot of bands. Been in a couple myself. I was really feeling it.”

The guys all smiled. 

“That’s what we do this for,” one of them said. The tips of his chestnut colored hair almost reached the top of his shirt with cut off sleeves. “I’m Luke, by the way.”

“Hi, I’m Reggie.” Reggie had black hair and was wearing a leather jacket with a red flannel tied around his waist. An interesting combination, but somehow the outfit worked. 

“Alex.” A boy with blond hair spoke up from where he was hovering just to the side of the group, wearing a pale pink t-shirt.

“Bobby.” The boy who had first walked over to the girl had brown hair and a sleeveless jacket over a t-shirt. 

“Nice meeting you guys. I’m Rose.” The girl smiled at all of them again as Luke licked his finger and stuck it in Bobby’s ear. 

“Oh uh, here’s our demo, and a t-shirt, size beautiful.” Reggie handed Rose a CD and a t-shirt, earning a small groan from Alex. 

“Thanks. I’ll make sure not to wipe the tables down with this one.” 

“Oh, good call. Whenever they get wet, they just kinda fall apart in your hands,” Alex informed her.

“Don’t you guys have to go get hot dogs?” Bobby asked, clearly wanting to talk to Rose without the other three around. 

“Yeah.” Luke leaned closer to Rose, as if to tell her a secret. “He had a hamburger for lunch.”

-----

“Man, I can’t wait until we eat someplace where the condiments aren’t served out of the back of an Oldsmobile,” Alex grumbled as he put a pickle on his hot dog. “Hey, sorry, I got some pickle juice on your battery cables.”

“No problem. It’ll help with the rust,” the man cooking hot dogs said with a slight chuckle.

“That can’t….okay.”

The three made their way over to a couch to eat. Before they could dig in, however, Luke started speaking. 

“This is awesome, you guys. We’re playing The Orpheum! I can’t even count how many bands have played here and then ended up being huge,” he said with a slight chuckle. “Eat up, boys. ‘Cause after tonight, everything changes.”

They all bit down hungerly into their street dogs.

Alex was the first to notice that something was off. “That’s a new flavor,” he said, a small amount of worry creeping into his tone.

“Chill man. Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.” Reggie tried to calm down his friend.

Luke hesitated for a moment, then took another huge bite.

-----

Los Angeles 2020

You made your way through the hallway, walking fast, faces pass, weaving around people as you tried to reach your locker. You smiled as you saw your two best friends waiting for you.

“Hey, underacheiver,” Flynn said in greeting.

“Hey, disappointments,” you joked back to them. “Okay, Julie, I know you don’t want me to ask, but have you figured out what you’re gonna do today?”

“I’ll know in the moment.” The frizzy-haired girl fiddled with her bracelets as she spoke, the only clue that she was nervous for her proformance later.

“Really, Jules? That’s all your giving us? Mrs. Harrison said-” Flynn was cut off from scolding one of her best friends.

“This is my last chance, I know, I was there,” Julie finished. Flynn smiled softly for a moment, but it turned to a grimace of disgust as she noticed a girl handing out flyers. 

“Ugh, what is she handing out?” she questioned.

“Desperation?” you said, only half joking. Julie and Flynn snickered. 

However, you put on a smile as the girl walked up to the three of you. 

“Here you go. My group’s performing at the spirit rally tomorrow. I’m sure you guys have nothing better to do,” she said, her eyes sweeping over you critically as she handed the flyer to Flynn. 

Flynn put on a bright, sarcastic smile. “Oh my gosh, Carrie, thanks!”

“Oh my gosh, Flynn, don’t bother coming!”

The three of you rolled your eyes at Carries retreating back. However, someone else caught Julie’s eye. 

“Nick?” you asked, looking between Julie and the blond-haired boy she was staring at.

“Still?” Flynn asked. “You know they’re gonna get married and have a bunch of unholy babies.”

“Nick’s a sweetheart.”

“Yeah, you’d actually have to talk to him to know that,” Flynn said with a small smile. “And only one of them has to be a demon to make a demon baby.” 

You nodded your approval of this statement as Flynn called out “Demon!” in Carrie’s direction.

The three of you turned towards the lockers and laughed quietly. 

“There’s that smile,” Flynn said, lightly poking both you and Julie’s face. “Now come on, let’s go prove everybody wrong.”

You flinched slightly as she put her arm around you, but tried not to show it.

-----

“Okay, we have one last proformance,” Mrs. Harrison called out. “Julie.”

You squeezed her hand slightly as she stood up and walked over to the piano. 

She sat in silence for a moment, before saying “I’m sorry,” and running out of the room, with you and Flynn not far behind. 

-----

“I’ll be back to pick you up at 5:30. Have fun at practice, Danny!” you called out after your little brother as he ran to join the baseball team. This was a daily routine for you; drop Danny off at practice, go to Julie’s to study and eat, pick up Danny, go home and endure torture. 

You let your mind wander as you walked to Julie’s house, which luckily wasn’t very far from the sports fields. Walking through the front door, you let your bag fall to the ground as you went to go get something to eat. 

-----

A few hours later, you were walking back to the sports fields. 

“Hey, Danny,” you said once you saw him, ruffling the boy’s hair. “How was practice?”

You paid attention as best you could as he rambled on about what had happened that day, but if you were honest, you didn’t understand a thing about sports. You were just glad your brother had found something that made him happy.

You closed the front door as quietly as you could, not wanting to wake your father. You tip-toed into the kitchen to start making dinner, as you did every night.

“Olivia, is that you?” you mother asked. You winced. 

“Yes, mother,” you sighed slightly, afraid to tell her that you had changed your name to Y/N.

“Hurry up and get dinner started. My feet are tired from cleaning all day.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at the excuse that was very obviously a lie, your house was a mess and you knew you would be expected to clean it later, but you didn’t want to get in trouble. So you fell into a robotic sort-of motion that you had developed as a way of hiding your emotions and thoughts from your parents. 

Thirty minutes and one burnt fingertip later, dinner was ready and waiting on the table. 

“Wake up, Harold, dinner is ready.” Your mother shook your father awake. You knew if you tried that, you would be slapped across the face. By both of them. 

However, your father just sat up sleepily and lumbered over to the table. You stood over to the side as your family ate, not being allowed to join them. 

“Goddamned roast beef is overcooked again,” he grumbled. You blinked back tears. Such a small thing shouldn’t upset you, you knew, but it did. 

You endured the criticism on the meal you had worked hard to make from your mother and father for the next half-hour. Your father declared himself full and snapped his fingers at you. You whisked his plate away before taking your mother’s, too. She never ate after he finished. You took Danny’s too, but only because you knew that your parents disapproved of him still eating. 

“Hey,” your father said, his voice already low and dangerous. “Give your brother back his plate. He wasn’t finished yet.”

You set the plate back down, nodding and shaking slightly. “My apologies, father.”

“Don’t appologize to your father, appologize to your brother!” your mother exclaimed, grabbing Danny’s hand from across the table and giving it a squeeze. 

“It’s okay, really, I was done,” he hurried to say.

Your mother frowned at him. “Are you sure, darling?”

He nodded. 

“Well, okay then…” she said, still frowning slightly. “You may be excused.” 

He ran off to his room. You took his plate. 

Heading back to the kitchen with a small sigh, you started making a meal for yourself out of what was left, leaving enough so that your family would have leftovers. 

You ate silently, thinking about how nice it would be to have a caring family. Of course, Danny cared, but he was too young to stand up to your parents, and you never wanted him to have to. You would protect that boy at all costs.

Holding in a sigh, you cleaned up from dinner, and then pulled out the duster to start to clean the house. You were stopped, however, by your mother. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I- I’m cleaning the house…”

“Didn’t you hear me say earlier that I cleaned it? Are you insulting my cleaning job?”

“N-no, I-”

“You what?” Without waiting for an answer, she slapped you across the face. You struggled to remain emotionless; your face stung. 

You thought it was over, but then your father joined in.

“What’s this Jennifer? Is Olivia insulting your hard work?”

“It’s Y/N…” you muttered quietly. Your father overheard and put his face uncomfortably close to yours.

“As long as you’re living under my roof it will always be Olivia. And even if you could change your name, that doesn’t change your gender, freak,” he spat. 

“I know,” you whispered. 

He slapped you.

“Don’t talk back to me.”

Blinking back tears, you stood still as they walked away. Eventually, you remembered the duster in your hand. Placing it back on the shelf, you walked back up to your room, hoping you would be able to escape them for the rest of the night.

-----

The next morning as you and Danny were walking to Julie’s house to go to school, you heard something you hadn’t heard in a long time: music. Julie was singing. 

“Wake up, wake up, if it’s all you do, look out, look inside of you, it’s not what you lost, it’s what you’ll gain raising your voice to the rain.” You smiled. It had been so long since you last heard her voice, and her music was a gift to the world. 

You walked into the studio alone, Danny having gone to talk to Carlos. Julie looked up with small tears in her eyes, seeing you standing there, smiling. She smiled back. 

“It’s so nice to hear you play again.”

Julie smiled wider. “Thanks.”

Just then, Flynn burst in. 

“Carlos told me you’d be out here. We need to talk.” She crossed the room to where the two of you stood by the piano. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, noticing the tears running down her face. 

“No, I’m not okay! One of my best friends just got kicked out of music! I’ve been up all night thinking about what I was gonna say. Might’ve drank seven sodas, but I need to get this out.”

“Wait, I have something to tell you-”

“No. It’s my turn to talk.” Flynn took a deep breath. “You can’t give up music. You’re music’s like a gift, that would be a tragedy. So you’re basically, like, cancelling Christmas, and I love Christmas!”

“Flynn-” you started to say, but she cut you off. 

“Uh-uh! I don’t know why you’re siding with her, Y/N. I know you like hearing her play.”

You knew Flynn didn’t mean to hurt you, but her words stung a little. You nodded once and retreated back into yourself slightly. Flynn was too emotional (and sleep deprived) to notice. 

“When we were six, we promised to be in a band together. Double Trouble!”

“I never agreed to that name,” Julie said, laughing slightly.

“That’s not the point. Jules, if you leave the music program, we’ll be apart forever. That’s just what happens. Sure, we’ll see each other in the hall sometimes, but we’ll have different lives, make new friends…” Flynn said the last part quieter. You could tell she hated the thought of losing one of her best friends.

“That’s not true,” Julie reassured her, but Flynn wasn’t finished.

“You’re right. I won’t be making any new friends. I’ll only have Y/N, and they’re amazing but I’d miss you Jules! And the only time we’ll contact each other is when we’re liking each other’s posts on Instagram. Every time I’ll be hitting that little heart, my heart will be breaking because one of my best friend’s left me, and… do you have any soda? My head hurts.” 

“Can I talk now?” Julie asked tentatively. 

“Fine.”

“I just played the piano and sang again. Y/N can confirm it.” You nodded when Flynn looked at you excitedly. 

“What? Why didn’t you just say so?” She asked, practically bouncing with joy. 

“She was trying to, but then your seven soda’s kicked in,” you answered with a small laugh. 

Flynn was grinning from ear to ear now. “I’m so happy for you! And me! And Y/N!”

You all hugged, but Flynn pulled away quickly, gasping. “We need to tell Mrs. Harrison that you can play so you can stay in school and my life won’t be that sad picture I just painted for you!”

You giggled as Flynn put her arms around both of you. “Y/N, our girl’s back. Double Trouble lives again!”

“Still not our band name,” giggled Julie. 

-----

“Did you end up getting back into the music program?” you asked Julie at the end of your study session for the day. She looked down at her shoes, and you knew what the answer would be before she said it:

“No. No I didn’t.”

You tried not to look too disappointed for her sake. “Oh. I’m really sorry, Jules.”

“It’s…” she sighed. “It’s okay. I can reapply next semester.”

You hugged her. 

“Oh hey, I almost forgot to tell you,” she said right as you were about to walk out of the door. “We decided not to move.”

Despite the news that one of your best friends was no longer in the music program, a smile lit up your face. “That’s great!” you said, pulling her in for another quick hug. Then you walked out the door, not wanting to be late to pick up Danny. 

-----

“Check it out, yeah we make ‘em say Wow!” Carrie bowed as her band, Dirty Candi, finished their dance number. You were at the spirit rally, saving a seat for Julie and Flynn, who were nowhere to be found. 

Suddenly Flynn plopped down beside you. 

“Oh hey, where were you?” you asked the girl.

She tried to blow a piece of hair out of her face, frowning slightly when it wouldn’t move. “I was in the band room. I wasn’t feeling very… spirt-y.” You both chuckled slightly. 

“Where’s Jules?” You looked around for the other girl, but couldn’t see her. 

As if in response to your question, music filled the gym as someone started to play the piano on the stage. You looked up to see Julie, alone on stage, with a spotlight on her. 

“Sometime’s I think I’m falling down, I wanna cry, I’m calling out, for one more try, to feel alive,” she sang, her voice echoing slightly as it filled the room. You smiled, happy she was singing again. 

Then suddenly, there were three boys on stage with her. 

“Whoa!” Flynn exclaimed.

“Where did those boys come from?” you asked in amazement. Julie seemed a little shocked that they were there too. One of them, the lead guitarist you guessed, started singing the second verse. 

“In times that I doubted myself, I felt like I needed some help,” he sang. 

“Whoa, he has a really good voice,” you said, your mouth hanging open slightly. 

You found yourself staring at him as the song went on. You could tell that he really enjoyed playing, and found yourself getting caught up in the music. 

“And rise, through the night, you and I, we will fight to shine together, bright forever!” Julie harmonized with the boys, finishing the song. You started clapping with the rest of the crowd that had gathered to watch, proud of your friend.

Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the boys were gone.  

[chilling-seavey]

When Universes Collide - The AU Mini Series

The Lotus Inn is a place we all know well; and a place where all universes collide in a small ripple of the time space continuum. It’s the spot for characters of alternate universes to meet and interact – even those who are from vastly different worlds and timelines. In this one-shot, the characters from the universes of this blog gather for lunch at the Lotus Inn restaurant and discuss their similarities and differences.

Warning: This does contain spoilers to any and all fics on my blog so read with caution if you haven’t read all of them!

A/N This obviously isn’t part of any timeline and is just something I wrote for fun with a bit of help from T-Anon and @randomlimelightxxx​! To tell each Daniel apart, they will be called by their fic name as their formal title…it might be a bit awkward at first but it would be the only way to not confuse the heck out of you since there are five nearly identical looking Daniel’s sitting around one table. (Also, I see this play out like a stage performance in my head which is weird).

A/N2 Let’s see how many times the word ‘Daniel’ is used in this story

The Lotus Inn – 11:54am

A table for five sat empty in the corner of the restaurant. The room was trimmed in purple neon lights and decorated in floral pictures with an old brick wall supporting the large bar along the back. It wasn’t busy as the crowd usually came in for the daily after-dinner partying and the quietness of the restaurant was only filled with the bar tender wiping down the glasses to stock.

The door to the restaurant opened and a stream of bright light pooled into the room from the outside, nearly brightening the space more than what the large paned windows along the from wall allowed. In stepped a young man, his hesitation obvious as he stepped over the threshold and his blue eyes scanned his surroundings. He wore a military uniform that was ironed to perfection, donned in two well dressed medals on his left breast, and he took off his matching cap when he stepped inside, offering a stiff nod in greeting to the bartender.

Passchendaele Daniel

Age 22

He was the first to arrive and he made his way over to the reserved table in the corner, sitting on the chair closest to the door. Habit. Made for an easy getaway if it was ever needed. He held his hands together on his lap, back straight, and his flat expression starting to fall into space.

The restaurant stayed silent. The bartender kept to himself and the few other patrons sat on the far side of the room, minding their own business.

The door opened again and a voice fell inside along with another pool of light.

“She’s a one-year-old, Jack, give her a cookie and sing her a song and she’ll go right to sleep. Ask the other two for help; they’re great with her. I can’t come back now, my meeting has barely even started. I’ll be an hour, tops. I think you can survive that long.”

The slightly older man who just came in had his cellphone pressed to his ear and closed the door calmly behind him. He looked a bit flustered and definitely tired; his dyed blonde hair was faded to mostly its natural brown tones again and he shoved his car keys in his pocket messily as he listened to whatever his friend was saying through the line.

Anything But Mine Daniel

Age 25

His blue eyes landed on the young man already at the table and he paused in spot for a moment before saying much quieter into his cell phone, “I gotta go. I’ll call you after.”

He hung the phone and headed slowly over to the table, holding out his hand to the man in front of him.

“Hey. Nice to meet you. I’m Daniel.”

Passchendaele Daniel glanced up at him and then to his out stretched hand and pulled a tight smile before taking his handshake, “Myself as well.”

They shared soft smiles as Anything But Mine Daniel sat down in the chair on his other side. They fell into a momentary silence, not quite knowing what to say at first. It was a strange situation to be in: staring at yourself from another universe and entirely different timeline.

Gentle music filled the restaurant and the two young men glanced across the room to the jukebox. A third stood in front of it, having just slid in a quarter to select a record, and the gentle voice of Elvis brought liveliness to the restaurant. He turned with a pleasant smile, his hair slicked back in a soft wave, and startled slightly by the older two staring back at him.

Heartbreak Hotel Daniel

Age 18

He offered them a crooked smile and headed over to join them, “Hi.”

They shared their introductions – being easy since they all shared the same name and nearly the same face – and Heartbreak Hotel Daniel took his spot across from Anything But Mine Daniel. He glanced over at the man in his old military uniform beside the oldest but looked away against before he could be caught staring. He adjusted the collar of his button-up shirt and dropped his shy gaze to the wood table top.

“What desserts do you offer here?”

The three men all looked towards the bar where another was stood on the bottom brass foot rest of the bar counter to stand higher, holding himself up on the marble top as he spoke to the bartender. He wore a Georgian style suit, dressed poshly down to the puffed tie in the collar of his pale blue jacket and shiny black shoes, his soft brown hair brushed pristinely over his forehead.

Amoureux Daniel

Age 17

The bartender eyed the young prince for a moment and then simply gestured to the menu hung on the brick wall behind him.

“I’ll just take the lot of it.”

He slid a few paper bills across the counter before heading over to the reserved table. His smile was wide and infectious and he offered firm handshakes around the table.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Prince Daniel of York. Second in line to the British throne.”

“Royalty at our table? That’s unbelievable.” ABM Daniel gaped, eyeing the youngest’s clothes as he plopped himself down in the free chair across from Passchendaele Daniel.

“Forget Royalty. I’m going to be a composer.” Amoureux Daniel tisked as he leaned back and loosened his tie around his neck to let himself breathe before rolling up his sleeves too.

“A composer? I’m in music professionally. What do you play? Piano?” ABM Daniel asked.

“Piano and cello. Piano’s my favourite though.” Amoureux Daniel grinned.

“Mine as well.” Passchendaele Daniel smiled shyly.

“You as well? Oh, splendid.” Amoureux Daniel clapped excitedly. “I was worried you lot would be as lame as my older brother honestly.”

Passchendaele Daniel’s smile fell as fast as it was formed and he dropped his head down. The other three easily saw this change and the youngest two from across the table habitually looked the eldest for guidance. ABM Daniel’s eyes were wide with surprise and he set a gentle hand on Passchendaele Daniel’s shoulder.

He spoke softly, “Are you okay?”

“I…” Passchendaele Daniel took a moment to compose himself before looking up into the friendly eyes of his older counterpart, “I lost my brother in the war. He was my best friend.”

“Shit.” Amoureux Daniel breathed from across from him.

Heartbreak Hotel Daniel slowly pressed his hand to his mouth in shock.

ABM Daniel hesitated a moment but gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze, “I’m really sorry.”

Passchendaele Daniel only shrugged lightly, “It is what it is, I suppose.”

“What war were you in? The First World War or the Second?” Heartbreak Hotel Daniel asked as gently as he could around the obviously traumatised man.

Passchendaele Daniel’s eyes went wide in fear suddenly and he looked between the other three guys, “There is a second?!”

“I didn’t even know there was one in the first place.” Amoureux Daniel said in defence as he reached for one of the desserts before the bartender could even set the plate down at their table.

ABM Daniel and HH Daniel exchanged wide eyed glances before looking back at the frightened soldier. ABM Daniel rubbed his hand over his back soothingly, offering the best reassurance he could, “Not in your time, don’t worry. But I think we need a new topic to talk about now.”

“Please.” Passchendaele Daniel mumbled thankfully.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a fifth one of us here too?” HH Daniel asked.

“I thought so too.” ABM Daniel pulled out his cell phone to check the time.

“What is that?” the other three young men asked him at the same time.

ABM Daniel glanced up at them and looked between their mirrored confused expressions like he was sitting at a table with triplets. Different brunette hair styles and different clothing but all with the same light blue eyes and youthful faces. He looked back down at his iPhone and held it up slightly, “This?”

They all nodded.

“It’s my cell phone.”

“It’s a telephone? Where’s the chord?” HH Daniel asked, leaning over the table to lift it up as if to look for the chord that should have somehow attached him to the wall.

“Where is the handset?” Passchendaele Daniel added. “If there is no handset, how do you hear your friends?”

“I have no bloody clue what the hell any of you are talking about.” Amoureux Daniel laughed through a mouthful of cake.

ABM Daniel smiled and looked between the other three, “I guess that’s right since you are all from the past, huh? Well in my time they make telephones that can go in your pocket. They don’t need chords.”

“That’s brilliant.” Passchendaele Daniel breathed. “And you can talk to your friends into that little box?”

“Yeah. Wanna hold it?” ABM Daniel offered.

HH Daniel leaned over the table to get a look as Passchendaele Daniel carefully took the iPhone from ABM Daniel and cradled it in his two hands like it would break if the wind blew too hard. The screen lit up as a text message came through and Passchendaele Daniel gasped in surprise, staring down at the lit-up screen and the little box that read words.

ABM Daniel reached over to swipe away the notification, revealing his lockscreen wallpaper: a photograph of his family from the day his youngest was born, all cuddled up together on the couch.

“Is that your family?” HH Daniel asked, still leaning over the table.

“Yeah. It is.” ABM Daniel smiled widely, taking his phone to set it on the table for all of them to see, “That’s my wife, Florence, and our girls; Clementine, Penelope, and Lucy.”

“That’s so sweet.” Amoureux Daniel said, “I just had a son a few months back.”

“You have a child?” HH Daniel gaped over at him. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“You have a kid at seventeen?”

“Yes. Ran off and got married young. He’s just born so no need to have a fit.” Amoureux Daniel snickered teasingly. He picked up the plate of desserts and held it out to him. HH Daniel stared down at the desserts for a beat but then shook his head politely.

“My wife is expecting our first child.” Passchendaele Daniel spoke gently.

“Oh, congratulations!” ABM Daniel said, helping himself to a dessert from the spread.

“Yes, thank you.” Passchendaele Daniel mumbled. “I am a bit frightened; I must admit.”

“Parenthood is a scary thing but it’s also the most amazing thing you could ever experience.” ABM Daniel assured him as he slid his phone back into his pocket. “I am sure you will be a great dad.”

Before anyone else could speak, loud muffled music could be heard from outside the restaurant and they all turned to looked out the large front windows; watching as a shiny white Tesla pulled up to the curb. The music cut off as the drivers side door opened and their fifth guest stepped out. His hair was dyed blonde and hair sprayed to messy perfection and the sunglasses perched on his nose were designer, his whole outfit dripping in expensive pieces, down to his leather pants and black boots and silver chain hung around his neck.

He came inside the restaurant and everyone’s eyes were on him – even the bar tender – as he slid off his sunglasses and offered a cool smile to the room.

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit Daniel

Age 23

He caught the glance of the other four young men at the table in the corner and he sauntered over to greet them. He offered a handshake to all of them before sitting at the far head of the table, “Sorry I’m so late. Promo ran later than expected.”

He glanced around the table at the four pairs of wide blue eyes staring back at him. There was a beat of silence.

“Wow, this is sick. It’s like I’m looking in four mirrors.” QTVTP Daniel chuckled. He set his sunglasses on the table. The other four pairs of eyes followed the action but they didn’t speak. “You’re right. Need to at least make up for my lateness. Hey, bartender?”

The man looked over to the table as QTVTP Daniel raised his hand up to get his attention, “Pitcher of water, round of beers, and let’s get some appetizers? Give us your top…six sellers. All on my card.”

“You don’t have to pay for all of us.” ABM Daniel said.

“Let me. It’s the least I could do. You come all the way out here to this shabby hotel and I’m thirty minutes late.”

The bartender brought over the pitcher of water, five glasses, and five bottles of beer, setting them all on the table. QTVTP Daniel took out his OffWhite wallet and pulled out his credit card, passing it over to the man with a smooth thanks.

“Let’s drink, boys.” he smiled, rubbing his hands together before reaching for one of the bottles.

“I’m not of age.” HH Daniel mumbled.

“Neither am I.” Amoureux Daniel added.

“I don’t drink anymore.” Passchendaele Daniel said.

“I have to pick up my daughters after this so no alcohol for me either, thanks.” ABM Daniel finished.

QTVTP Daniel looked between the four sitting around him, “Wow. Alright. More for me then.”

ABM Daniel took the initiative to pour the others their glasses of water as he offered a casual question to the late arrival, “What promo were you at?”

“For my record company.”

All four heads snapped back up to look at him.

“You work at a record company?” HH Daniel gaped.

“Own it. Yeah.” QTVTP Daniel chuckled. “My best friend and I have owned our own company for the last…two or so years? We’ve travelled the world together. Made some music. Made a name for ourselves. It’s amazing.”

“Wow. It’s always been my dream to be a signed artist but my parents convinced me to go to university instead.” ABM Daniel said.

“It’s pretty sick.” QTVTP Daniel smirked. “You meet a lot of cool people.”

“Are you well known?” Amoureux Daniel asked. “Do you work with people such as Bach? Or Mozart?”

“Bach or Mozart? Nah. Not yet at least. But we just signed a band that dropped their second album and it went number one worldwide.”

“Good God.” HH Daniel gasped. “You’re like Elvis.”

“I guess.” QTVTP Daniel laughed lightly, taking a sip of his drink as he leaned back in his chair.

“Do you produce too?” ABM Daniel asked.

“Yeah. We do most of the producing but we write and manage too. I have an eye for the industry.”

“That’s so cool. I’m working at a production studio myself. I’d love to run some demos by you…get your professional opinion…bounce some ideas around.”

“Yeah, for sure, bro! That’d be awesome. We can do that later.”

The other three young men stayed in momentary silence, sipping their water with Amoureux Daniel nursing the plate of desserts. He glanced over at HH Daniel on his right, staring at him for a moment, especially the remanence of a bruise that was colouring just under his left eye.

“Did you get in a fight?” Amoureux Daniel asked bluntly.

HH Daniel looked over at him, watching the youngest bite into a truffle, “Yeah. Corbyn beat me up.”

That caught the table’s attention and they all looked at him in surprise.

“Corbyn hit you?” ABM Daniel gaped.

“Mhm.” HH Daniel nodded shyly. “I was trying to stick up for my soulmate and he didn’t like that I was trying to take her from him so he beat me up.”

He stood up and lifted up the bottom of his shirt to show off the fading bruise over his stomach as well. The men groaned pitifully at how obviously it must have hurt.

“My Corbyn is so nice.” Passchendaele Daniel frowned.

“Mine too.” ABM Daniel added.

“Mine’s kind of lame. Everyone in my life is lame.” Amoureux Daniel tisked.

“What? You think you’re better than everyone?” QTVTP Daniel chuckled, taking a sip from his glass bottle.

“Not necessarily. I just don’t want to have to live the same boring life that they think I need to.”

“I’ll drink to that.” QTVTP Daniel agreed.

“Here, here.” Passchendaele Daniel raised his water cup and they all held out their glasses into the middle of the table to cheers through soft laughter.

Their conversation paused a moment as they drank. HH Daniel shifted in his seat slightly, tossing back the rest of his glass of water is he had been deprived for days and set the empty glass back on the table with a loud clunk. QTVTP Daniel slid over a bottle of beer and none of them spoke as they watched him unscrew the cap and take a long sip. The eighteen-year-old grimaced through the drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re really going through it, bro.” QTVTP Daniel stated.

“Yeah, I suppose.” HH Daniel grumbled, pushing a hand through his hair.

“Well obviously since he got punched in the face.” Amoureux Daniel added.

“I just…” HH Daniel sighed, staring at the table top, “We have soulmates in my universe and even though I found mine…she doesn’t want me so I’m suck tasting everything she tastes and it being a constant brutal reminder of her.”

“Why doesn’t she want you?” ABM Daniel frowned.

“I’m a loser? Hell if I know.” HH Daniel scoffed, he took another long sip of the beer no matter how disgusting he thought it tasted. At least it overpowered the taste of tea that was grazing his tongue.

“There’s a girl you’re in love with who has a trashy boyfriend? Well, take it from me who has literally been in your shoes,” ABM Daniel reached across the table to grab the beer from the eighteen-year-old, “You get nowhere from drinking away the pain or hating yourself.”

“You had this happen too?” HH Daniel asked softly, hopefully.

“Yeah; was best friends with this girl I was hopelessly in love with and I had to see her go from boyfriend to boyfriend no matter how often I was there for her.”

“So what happened?”

“She became my wife eventually.” ABM Daniel smiled softly, “Just give it time. Don’t push her because she’ll just feel suffocated. Let her come to you. She’ll see what she’s missing.”

Amoureux Daniel held out the half empty plate of desserts to HH Daniel and he finally took a small pastry as the youngest said, “In addition, you are in a universe where you can taste what she tastes and, from my experience, the way to a woman’s heart – and up her skirt – is through her stomach.”

Passchendaele Daniel choked on his water while laughter rose over the rest of the table.

“What do you know about ‘going up skirts’? You’re, like, barely fifteen.” QTVTP Daniel scoffed through his disbelieving laughter.

“I am seventeen, thank you very much, and I have a baby.” Amoureux Daniel corrected, nearly boastfully. “I know just plenty about going up skirts.”

Of course, that was right when the bartender came over with their food and his confused expression had the five young men smothering back their nervous laughter. ABM Daniel and Passchendaele Daniel cleared a space on the table for the food to be set down and all five of them thanked the man before he headed back behind the bar. With a full spread in front of them, they all dug in and piled up a small plate each to start to eat. It was quiet for a moment as they got settled and started to eat, passing the salt and pepper and various plates to each other when asked. It was comfortable.

“So,” ABM Daniel broke their silence first, directing his question to Amoureux Daniel, “how did you and your wife meet?”

Amoureux Daniel cracked a cheeky smile, “Well, she came to England to marry my older brother, but she liked me better, to be blunt. We would sneak around the castle and a few times at night…you know…”

There were two ‘oo’s from ABM Daniel and QTVTP Daniel, while Passchendaele Daniel looked between them all with wide eyes.

“You…You were involved with her before you were married?” he stammered.

“While she was engaged to my brother too.” Amoureux Daniel hid his smirk behind a bite of a mozzarella stick. “My most thrilling and incredible few months, I must say.”

“Oh my gosh.” Passchendaele Daniel’s cheeks flushed a slight pink and he tugged at the collar of his uniform. “That’s…ahem…”

“Did you not go near your wife before your wedding night?” Amoureux Daniel asked bluntly.

“Let’s not go nosing into everyone’s private business.” ABM Daniel said strongly.

“Wait, I’m still confused. Where did you sneak off to?” HH Daniel asked shyly.

The table chuckled lightly – even Passchendaele Daniel cracked a nervous smile – and HH Daniel looked between all of them, waiting for an answer.

“To bed.” Amoureux Daniel laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ll understand one day.”

“I…you…I-I understand perfectly well.” HH Daniel blushed furiously, turning quickly down to his plate and shoveled a nacho in his mouth to avoid continuing the conversation.

“To answer your question,” Passchendaele Daniel continued, trying to keep himself a bit brave and a bit interesting to the four other men, “No, I did not go to bed with Elizabeth until our wedding night. It did not feel right to deflower her until our union was official.”

“Deflower her.” QTVTP Daniel repeated slowly, biting back his smile as he took a sip of his beer.

“Well that’s what it is, is it not?” Passchendaele Daniel said sternly, narrowing his eyes at him. “I like to think that making love is the most sacred act and shouldn’t be just thrown around to anyone.”

“I agree.” HH Daniel mumbled, earning a thankful smile from the soldier.

“Jeez, then I’m quite the sinner.” QTVTP Daniel chuckled to himself. “I slept with my girlfriend on our first date.”

Passchendaele Daniel huffed softly and turned down to his plate. Amoureux Daniel and HH Daniel glanced at each other through the awkward tension that seemed to settle.

ABM Daniel cleared his throat, “Let’s maybe change the topic. This isn’t really lunch appropriate.”

“Wow…you are such a dad.” QTVTP Daniel snorted, shaking his head in near disbelief.

“What’s wrong with that?” ABM Daniel frowned at him. He couldn’t get much of an argument out before his phone was ringing in his pocket and he pulled it out, sighing when he read the caller ID, “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

The other four watched him get up from the table and head across the restaurant as he answered the call,

“What is it now, Jack?”

The table fell into a momentary silence.

Passchendaele Daniel broke it first with a mumble of, “Jack in my universe is dead.”

The other three looked between themselves nervously. They didn’t answer, ducking their heads down to their plates to focus on eating their lunches. No one spoke until ABM Daniel returned and he sat back down with a heavy exhale.

“Sorry, being a dad is a job that is never done. What did I miss?”

Amoureux Daniel, HH Daniel, and QTVTP Daniel just looked at him and shook their heads ever so slightly. Passchendaele Daniel sniffled, keeping his head down, and took a sip of his water.

“Everything alright back home?” HH Daniel asked softly over to ABM Daniel.

“Oh, yeah. My youngest just hates when I’m not within arm’s reach so she’s been giving Jack some trouble. She’s only one so…doesn’t know much better.” ABM Daniel smiled at only the mention of his daughters. “I have pictures…if you want to see.”

“Of course.” HH Daniel beamed.

ABM Daniel took out his phone again and opened up his photos app to swipe through a few and he passed the phone across the table. Amoureux Daniel and HH Daniel shifted closer together to see and QTVTP Daniel leaned over the side of the table to look at the pictures too. QTVTP Daniel took control of the swiping since he was the only one who knew how cell phones worked and they all smiled at the pictures on the screen, ‘awe’ing at the cutest ones.

“The baby looks just like you.” HH Daniel said. “Well…like us, I suppose.”

“Yeah.” ABM Daniel chuckled. “I get that a lot.”

Passchendaele Daniel stayed quiet on his right, eating in silence, and unbothered. He sat as if he didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself. ABM Daniel looked over at him as the other three kept scrolling through his pictures and he reached a hand onto the table to gently get his attention. Passchendaele Daniel looked up at him with a flat expression and almost tearful eyes.

“Are you alright?” ABM Daniel asked softly.

“I don’t do well without my Elizabeth.” Passchendaele Daniel whispered for only him to hear. ABM Daniel was always the best listener and the easiest to talk to and it was obvious to the struggling soldier that he was someone he could trust.

“Do you have a picture of her?” ABM Daniel offered, as some way to keep his mind busy but happy.

A small smile perked at the side of Passchendaele Daniel’s lips and he nodded, reaching into his uniform jacket and he pulled out a small sepia photograph and held it out to his new acquaintance. ABM Daniel smiled thankfully at him and took the photograph, looking down at the old fashion photograph of the gentle young blonde woman.

“She’s beautiful.” ABM Daniel said politely.

“She is. I’m the luckiest man in the whole world to have her. She saves my life every day.” Passchendaele Daniel breathed, his gentle smile grazing his lips ever so delicately as if he was in deep thought.

Three teasing exclaims from across the table caught their attention and ABM Daniel quickly reached over to snatch his phone back. The picture they had swiped to was of Florence in nothing but a small towel blow-drying her hair in the bathroom mirror; a simple moment that ABM Daniel couldn’t help but capture with her in all her natural beauty.

“No more of that.” he blushed furiously as he pocketed his phone again.

Passchendaele Daniel offered his photograph of Elizabeth to the table and the three young men on the other side gladly took it. She was effortlessly beautiful and the three youngest at the table stared at her for a bit longer than was honestly necessary. Passchendaele Daniel bit back a proud grin at their obvious interest.

“I don’t have a photograph of Loretta.” HH Daniel mumbled. “If I did, that would be considered extremely creepy on my part.”

The photograph was passed back to Passchendaele Daniel who pocketed it again and HH Daniel reached to grab another serving from the platters in the middle of the table. A small corner of paper poking out under the dish caught his attention and he wiped his hand on his jeans before pulling it out from under the plate. His eyes went wide at the photograph of Loretta that stared back at him from his hand.

“What’s that?” Amoureux Daniel asked, leaning over his shoulder to take a look.

Surprised, HH Daniel couldn’t find his words for a moment, “I-It’s Loretta.”

The Lotus Inn works in almost magical ways through this ripple in the time space continuum. HH Daniel pulled the picture closer, his heart only aching slightly at simply the sight of her.

“She is hot.” QTVTP Daniel broke the momentary silence.

The four other Daniel’s glared at his bluntness and he put his hands up in defence as he sat back in his chair.

“You can’t have her so don’t even try.” HH Daniel scolded softly before turning back to the photograph. 

“I don’t want her. I have my own girlfriend.”

HH Daniel glared warningly at him as he passed the photograph across the table to ABM Daniel and Passchendaele Daniel to take a look at too.

Amoureux Daniel shifted in his chair and reached into his pocket, sure enough to pull out his own picture of Louisa and their brand-new baby son. He stayed perfectly quiet for a moment as he stared at the image himself, disbelieving.

“Oh wow.” he breathed. “It looks so real.”

HH Daniel looked over his shoulder and smiled at the sweet photograph of the young mother holding her baby, “That’s adorable.”

Amoureux Daniel smiled over at him, “That’s my Louisa. And our little prince.”

“Let’s see!” ABM Daniel excitedly held his hand out to take a look at the photograph.

QTVTP Daniel and Passchendaele Daniel glanced over his shoulder with mirrored smiles.

“Damn,” QTVTP Daniel said as he sat down again, “Glad to know we have taste.”

Their pictures were passed around and stories were shared – QTVTP Daniel offering up his phone to show off pictures of his girlfriend and he shared his excited plans to propose to her. 

The five young men seemed to find their comfort with each other. Laughter soon filled their table between words of advice and guidance and comfort and soon the food was gone and the drinks were finished and they were all resting back in their chairs through their conversation.

“Is your hair naturally that colour?” Amoureux Daniel asked QTVTP Daniel.

QTVTP Daniel habitually ran his hand through it, fluffing it up a little at the sides, “No, it’s dyed. I kinda like it like this though so I might keep it.”

“It looks cool. Maybe I should go blonde too. Loretta seems to like blondes better anyway.” HH Daniel said.

“No!” The other three at the table said quickly.

HH Daniel looked between all of them in confusion, “Why not?”

“Florence cried her eyes out when I went blonde.” ABM Daniel said. “I swear she was ready to divorce me. It’s not worth it.”

“You look just fine the way you are.” Passchendaele Daniel agreed. “Don’t change just because her boyfriend looks a certain way.”

“Yeah. You’ll regret that.” ABM Daniel nodded.

“I dunno. I don’t regret it.” QTVTP Daniel said coolly.

“You’re not helping.” ABM Daniel snapped lightly, making the rest of the table laugh.

A momentary silence fell over the group, all of them staring into space with content smiles and full stomachs, most topics of conversation well used. The bartender came over to clear the empty plates and they all thanked him once more. ABM Daniel took out his phone to check the time again.

“Well, it’s been over an hour. Maybe we should say our goodbyes. I have little ones to pick up.”

“Yeah.” HH Daniel sighed, setting his napkin back on the tabletop. “I have to pack for college.”

“I have a meeting...” QTVTP checked his watch, “5 minutes ago. Shit. Jonah’s gonna kill me.”

He got up quickly from the table and put his sunglasses back on before taking one last sip of his beer. They all stood up after him and started to gather their things to go.

“Can we take a selfie before we leave?” ABM Daniel offered.

“A what?” HH Daniel laughed.

“A selfie.” Amoureux Daniel breathed. “That’s a ridiculous word.”

“A picture of yourself.” QTVTP Daniel explained.

“Yeah! Come over here.” ABM Daniel took out his phone again and opened up the camera.

“You can take photographs on your telephone? Incredible…” Passcehndaele Daniel breathed as the group gathered behind ABM Daniel and they all leaned in close.

The picture was taken, framing five exact smiles, five exact pairs of light blue eyes, and yet five slightly different hair styles and fashion choices. All their own individual but yet all one in the same.

They shared handshakes that turned into friendly embraces with pats on the back, well wishes, and final goodbyes as they headed their own ways home to once again be seperated by the division of space and time between alternate universes.

ABM Daniel lingered back in the restaurant for a moment, grazing his finger over the table he stood beside with a calm smile. He approached the bartender and ordered a plate of desserts to go – he didn’t get much since Amoureux Daniel seemed to hog them all for himself – and he wanted to bring home his girls a treat. He paid for the cakes and thanked the bar tender before heading out of the restaurant and into the bright sunlit street. His car was parked farther down and he waited in the drivers seat for Florence.

She came quickly out of the Lotus Inn as well, the heavy wind blowing urging her to hold her jacket closed as she rushed down the sidewalk, her dark blonde hair billowing around her head messily and she helped herself into the passenger seat of their car. With the door closed and the wind kept out, she sighed deeply with a content smile and smoothed her messy hair down.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

They both leaned in for a quick kiss.

“How was lunch?” she asked.

ABM Daniel thought for a moment as he took the car out of park and pulled out onto the street, “It was strange at first but really nice. How was yours?”

“Super fun.” Florence giggled.

“Great! Oh! We took a selfie. I wanted to show you how similar we all looked.” Daniel pulled his phone from his pocket and blindly passed it over to her as he drove through the streets of their city.

Florence took it and typed in his passcode with an excited smile. She opened up his pictures and tapped the most recent one, her smile falling, “Dani, this is only a picture of you.”

“I know!” Daniel laughed. “We looked like quintuplets or something!”

“No…I mean you are the only person in this picture.”

Daniel stopped the car at a red light and glanced over at his phone in her hand. His smile fell as well as he stared at the selfie he had taken before they all parted ways, only his own face captured in the frame, his four new friends missing as if they never existed in the first place.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Raincheck (Ethan x MC)

Summary: Set after chapter 8, Ethan and Naomi get a re-do on their dinner date.

Tags: @colourmeshy @fanmantrashcan @writinghereandthere @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile 

Enjoy!

~v~

The first thing Naomi notices when she crosses the threshold to Ethan’s apartment is that it smells amazing. A delicious aroma wafts from the kitchen and she has to stop herself from drooling at the scent.

This is the second time this week that she’s been at his apartment, though this time Ethan promises that there will be no surprise interruptions. And this makes Naomi anxious, because the last time she was here, Ethan kissed her, multiple times, and promised that they’d talk. And with a little over a year of knowing the older attending under her belt, Naomi knows that Ethan Ramsey is a puzzle and he’s constantly pulling the rug out from under her feet. So her guard is up, despite wanting to be able to relax in his presence.

Ethan greets her at the door, out of his formal work clothes and now in a simple t-shirt and blue jeans.

“Naomi, hi.” His eyes sweep over her form, and he tries not to get fixated on the way her dark blue sweater hugs every curve on her body. “You look great.”

“Thank you.”

“It smells amazing in here.” Once she’s inside and her shoes are at the door, Naomi stands on her tiptoes, peering into the kitchen. She sees a huge skillet and a pot on the stove, but it gives her no answers. “Can I know what you’re cooking, or are you going for an element of surprise?”

“Chicken, sautéed in peppers, yellow rice and roasted asparagus. Do you have any objections about the menu?”

“It sounds delicious.” She stops at his kitchen island and takes a seat at one of the barstools. 

“Do you want something to drink? I have pretty much everything.”

“What’s the best wine in your collection?” Naomi asks. “I’d like a glass of that.”

Ethan turns around and goes to rummage in his pantry. “I have a very expensive bottle that a patient gifted Naveen a while back. Her rich “boyfriend” owns a vineyard in Napa, and after we solved her case, she had him send Naveen quite a few bottles. He gave me one.”

He rinses out two glasses and pours the expensive Chardonnay. 

“Air quotes around the word boyfriend leads me to assume he was her sugar daddy.”

“Her very married sugar daddy,” Ethan adds. “Splitting his time between Napa and New England.”

“Scandalous.”

“His vineyard makes excellent wine, though.”

Naomi takes a sip and instantly agrees with Ethan. The smooth liquid is delicious. “Mhmm, I can taste the vanilla.”

“You have excellent taste for a 27 year old.”

“It’s a cross I have to bear,” Naomi teases with a giggle. “Do you need any help with dinner?”

“No. You’re my guest, you just sit there and relax.”

She leans across the counter and watches as Ethan expertly chops up jalapeño peppers.

“I’m not used to being in a kitchen and not helping,” Naomi says with a sigh. “I used to practically study my mom and grandma growing up.”

“Oh, so you like to cook too?”

“I love it. I love food. Every Sunday after church, we’d go to my grandparents’ house for football and dinner.”

“What’s your favorite thing to cook?” Ethan asks. Naomi doesn’t talk much about her life before Edenbrook, and he’s curious.

“My grandma has a recipe for pot roast and garlic mashed potatoes that will make you cry.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the secret?”

“It’s for Valentine women only, mister. My mom didn’t get the recipe until she and my dad had been married for 10 years.”

“It’s that serious?”

Naomi nods. “Super serious. She’s really protective over her recipes, and she wants the rest of the family to be just as guarded. My uncle once suggested she write a cookbook, and she nearly tore him a new one.”

Ethan notes the sparkle in her eye as she talks about her family and he can’t help but to smile. “Okay, since you’re the expert, I’ll let you help me.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Yay! But first, I cannot cook in silence. We’re going to need some music.”

“In the living room, next to the window, I have a record player. Pick whatever you’d like.”

“A record player?” Naomi slides off the barstool and rushes to the living room. “You’re an old soul.”

“I like records. I think they’re cooler than CDs.”

Naomi browses through his selection of vinyls. He had a mixture of a lot of different artists and genres: Billie Holiday, Michael Jackson, Prince, David Bowie, Queen, James Brown, Nina Simone, The Beatles. There was even some classical music by Beethoven thrown into the collection.

She settles on Billie. “You have good taste, Doctor Ramsey.”

Soon she’s back in the kitchen, hands washed, sleeves rolled up, and hair pulled back. They settle into a comfortable routine. She minces garlic as Ethan gets the rice started.

Ethan enjoys her presence in his kitchen. There’s no tension in the air, the silence isn’t deafening, and Naomi moves around with ease and confidence, as if the space was made just for her. He chooses to ignore the way his pulse speeds up at the thought.

With two people helping, it doesn’t take long for dinner to be served. Ethan tops off their wine, fixes two plates, and moves them into his formal dining area.

“I had no idea this little dining area was tucked back here,” Naomi says, looking around. “Just how huge is this apartment? Does it have a second floor that I’m not aware of?”

Ethan rolls his eyes at her wide cracks. “No second floor. But it’s a 3 bedroom.”

“3? How did I not notice that?”

“Well the last time you were here we only stayed in the kitchen. And the time before that we–”

 He stops himself before he can finish the sentence. The time before the last, they barely stayed in the living room for a few minutes before Ethan was dragging her into his bedroom.

Naomi looks down, her face burning at the memory. Thinking about their previous...encounter wasn’t her intention in the slightest. She groans to herself. This is what she gets for trying to make dumb small talk.

She pivots, not allowing them any more time to ruminate over the hook up. “Well you’ll have to give me a tour.”

“Deal.”

Naomi grabs her fork and digs into her food, taking a bite of her chicken. A low heat coats her taste buds, followed by the buttery flavor of the meat. A soft sigh passes her lips. “Okay, I know you love being a doctor, and you’re great at it, but I think you’d be an amazing chef.”

“Of course I’d be an amazing chef, I’m good at everything,” Ethan quips with a smirk.

“Your ego is unmatched.”

“But seriously, the food is good?”

His voice takes on an uncharacteristically low and shy tone. Naomi looks up at him and they lock eyes. He’s...nervous, she quickly surmises.

“The food is great, Ethan. If it wasn’t, you’d know.”

He smiles at her, relief coursing through his veins. Sure he knows he’s a good cook, but something about her praise and validation makes him feel like a teenager again.

“Good.”

“I might have you cook for me more often,” Naomi adds, lifting her wine glass to her lips and takes a sip. “How many other people get to say the great Ethan Ramsey made them dinner?”

“It’s just you,” Ethan replies. “And of course, you’re welcome over any time.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time. I just might take you up on that offer.”

“Please do.”

The rest of their dinner goes by, the two of them embroiled in light conversation. Once dinner is done, Ethan instructs her to head to his living room while he puts the dishes in the sink. A few minutes later, he comes back with two slices of cake, and two more glasses of wine, red this time to complement the chocolate of their dessert.

“Ooh, I get dessert too? My, my, You’re really spoiling me tonight.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Ethan grumbles.

“Too late.” Naomi eagerly accepts her slice of cake. “Did you bake this?”

“Would you be impressed if I said yes?”

“I’d be very impressed.”

“But no, I can't take credit for this. There’s a bakery a few blocks away, and they make the best chocolate cake.”

“That’s a hefty endorsement coming from you.”

“Trust me, you’ll love it.”

Ethan sits down next to Naomi, leaving little room between the two of them, but just enough. At this distance, he can smell whatever sweet perfume she’s wearing, mixed with her shampoo—coconut scented, that much he knows for certain—it it’s effects on him are dizzy and intoxicating.

“How did your talk with your dad go the other day?” Naomi asks. Being questioned about his dad wasn’t what he was expecting, and it snaps him out of his daze.

“Huh?”

“How did your talk with Alan go?” 

Ethan stops to seriously consider the question. His talk with his dad brought up a lot of feelings, good and bad, about a lot of different things. “I think he and I understand each other more. Love is still a pretty foreign concept to me, so I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand the depth of what he feels towards my mother, but I’m going to try to be more compassionate about them.”

“And I told him that him continuing to hold a flame for my mother fueled a lot of my anger,” Ethan continues. “It used to feel like he was willing to forgive her for hurting me. No matter what she did, all would be okay as long as she came back. Of course, he didn’t realize my perspective, and he apologized. We both realized that our views of my mom were going to be inherently different. And he agreed to stop trying to get me to talk to her.”

Naomi is glad to hear he made some peace with his dad. Alan seems like a sweet guy. “Do you think you’ll ever want to see her?”

A stony expression mars his features. “No. I’m not in a space to hear whatever bullshit excuse she spits out, nor do I want to hear any apologies. I’ve survived 25 years without her, I’ll survive 25 more.”

The energy in the room has taken a sharp turn. Naomi puts her plate down on the coffee table and takes Ethan’s hand in hers, her thumb running across his knuckles in a soothing manner. The simple gesture catches him off guard, and he looks at the younger woman.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset with my line of questioning.”

“I’m not upset with you,” Ethan assures her. She’s the last person he’d be upset with considering she’s been his rock throughout this entire ordeal. “And I shouldn’t be burdening you with this.”

“You’re not being a burden, Ethan.”

“Regardless, I didn’t invite you over here to be bogged down by my family drama.”

Naomi looks down at their still joined hands, and she swallows thickly. “Okay, did you invite me over here to talk about our kiss?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up at the question. “I’ve always admired your boldness, Rookie. You get straight to the point no matter what.”

“No point in beating around the bush,” Naomi says with a shrug. Reluctantly, she pulls her hand out of his and turns her body so they’re facing each other. “Look Ethan, you said that we needed boundaries, and outside of our kiss at Donahue’s a few months back, I’ve been trying my absolute hardest to be respectful. But now you’re sending me mixed signals. First when we went to stake out your mom a few weeks back, you held my hand the entire way back to Boston. And then you kissed me the other day, a few times. Now I’m at your apartment again. I need to know what we’re doing, because you’re blurring the lines.”

Ethan sighs. He feels like a selfish asshole, jerking her around like this. “Look, Naomi, I thought our relationship was going to be that of a mentor and mentee–and it is, but it’s become so much more than that. You are one of the most important people in my life. You are the one person I want to turn to when things feel crazy, whether it’s about work or my personal life.”

“And…?”

“I’m getting there, Rookie,” Ethan chuckles softly, and her stomach flips at her old nickname. “Look, all my life, I’ve only ever viewed things in black and white, and it was easy for me. But you came barreling into my life, and not only can I see shades of grey, but I see the entire color spectrum. You push me, you challenge me, you drive me absolutely insane.” Naomi laughs. “But it’s becoming increasingly harder to respect my self-imposed boundaries when it comes to you.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I think it’s time I stop trying to hold myself back when it comes to you.”

Naomi’s too afraid to move. To breathe, even. What if this is some sort of dream? She’s going to wake up soon, in her own bedroom, alone, disappointed and full of self loathing. “So, what? Do you want to give us a try?”

“Yes, I want to give us a try. That is, if you still want to give me a chance. I know I probably don’t deserve one.”

Hearing those words is akin to a dam breaking inside of her. The air leaves her lungs all at once and her vision goes blurry with unshed tears.

Crying wasn’t the reaction he thought he was going to get from her. Ethan reaches out, gently swiping the pad of his thumb underneath her eye. “Naomi, what–”

She cuts him off, grabbing his face with both hands, crashing their lips together. He barely has time to toss his plate onto the table before she’s clamoring into his lap, straddling him.

This kiss feels so much like the one they shared a few nights ago. It’s frenzied, desperate, and filled with longing, but there’s an undercurrent of something else, something they haven’t felt before. Relief. Lightness.

Ethan’s tongue presses against her lips, silently asking for permission to deepen things. Naomi responds, opening her mouth to grant him entrance.

She clings to him, grabbing all that her hands can. His shoulders, his neck, his soft t-shirt. She needs some sort of permanence to ground her to the moment and let her know that this isn’t a dream. It’s real.

Ethan’s hands move from her hips, aiming higher until they’re under her sweater. His fingers burn, and he’s not sure if his brain is playing tricks on him because he’s consumed quite a few glasses of wine, or if the feel of her skin has that effect on him. Whatever the case, he welcomes the white-hot sensation, greedily searching for more surface area. Finally he settles on her back, his hands running around her spine, making her shudder.

They only pull apart because the need to breathe is much stronger than their desire to stay joined. But it doesn’t last long, as Naomi quickly kisses him again.

“I’ve missed you,” she confesses when she pulls away. Ethan notes the vulnerability in her eyes as she comes to rest her forehead against his. “I’ve missed this.”

“I’ve missed you too. You have no idea how much.”

She bites her lip in contemplation and Ethan swears it might be his favorite sight. “Please tell me this is real. Tell me you won’t wake up tomorrow and change your mind.”

Reluctantly, his hands drop from the small of her back. He uses one to tilt her chin up, forcing eye contact between the two. “I’m not going anywhere, Naomi.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

They kiss again, a softness filling them this time around. Her fingers pull at the hem of his shirt, tugging it, urging him to remove the piece of fabric.

“Naomi, stop,” Ethan orders gently. 

She breaks the kiss, confused. “What?”

“We need to stop,” Ethan pants heavily. His heart is beating erratically against his rib cage, and if she keeps kissing him like this, and touching him like this, he’s going to lose all of his will.

“What’s wrong?”

“If we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to stop myself from escalating this and taking you into my bedroom.”

Naomi shivers against him. “Is that a promise?”

“You have no idea. But I want us to take this slow. I want to do this right.”

“Oh yeah?” He can tell by the twinkle in her eye that she’s going to tease me. “Are you going to court me, old man?”

Ethan wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She groans at the contact. “Call me old one more time, Rookie.”

Naomi is never one to back down from a challenge, but she doesn’t want to take things further knowing he wants to move slowly. “I think it’s sweet.”

“I just really don’t want to mess things up with you.”

“I don’t want to either.”

Naomi moves off of his lap, creating some distance. She smooths out her sweater, which is currently twisted around her midsection. 

She checks the time on her watch. “It’s getting late, I think I should go.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

“I know, but I think it’d be better for both of us if we ended things here. I don’t want to test your restraint any more.”

“Thank you. Do you need me to take you home?”

“I’ll call an Uber.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Naomi quickly calls for a car using the app. They find their shoes, enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence. They hold hands the entire way down, sharing shy smiles and glances.

The air between the two of them feels so different now. Like a weight has been lifted off of both their shoulders, they revel in the newfound lightness and change in their relationship.

They stand in front of his apartment complex as they wait for her ride to arrive, their hands still joined together. It’s late at night, but the city is still lit up, and all of the lights reflect off of Naomi as she stares at her surroundings. Ethan clears his throat, gaining her attention.

“So I was thinking, how about we go out this weekend,” he suggests. “There’s a new exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts.”

“We agreed to date a few short minutes ago, and you already have a date planned.”

Ethan shrugs. “Well, I’ve had this evening planned out for the past 48 hours.”

Naomi smirks at him. “And you were just so sure I would say yes to you?”

“Call it a hunch.”

A car matching the description of Naomi’s rideshare pulls up along the curb. “This is my ride.”

Before she can open the car door, Ethan yanks her hand and spins her around. He kisses her again, his warm hand cupping her jaw. He pulls away quickly, leaving her breathless. “One more for the road. Call me when you get home, okay.”

“Of course.” Naomi smiles. “See you tomorrow, Ethan.”

“Goodnight, Naomi.”

She enters the car and Ethan watches as it drives off. He stands on the sidewalk for a long time after she’s gone, as if he’s still in a daze. The entire night feels surreal, and he almost can’t believe things worked out the way they did.

He knows one thing for sure: he’ll be forever grateful for his ability to cook.

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 12 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29 Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Ace and Peter discuss Paul’s crisis, with and without him, and Paul gives Gene some lessons.

            Peter and Ace stuck around for a couple hours. Long enough that Paul heated up the leftover pizza for them, and Gene ended up getting two more delivered, while the forgotten remains of both their Dairy Queen milkshakes just melted in Paul’s car. Paul confessed to nearly everything, from when Gene had first come over to the call to Steve Rubell’s secretary.

           Peter had been pretty loath to talk about witchcraft and ways to alleviate the curse at any real length. It seemed to make him as queasy as it did Gene. Ace, on the other hand, perused Paul’s occult books for awhile, and offered to scour some old hippie contacts and see if they still knew any witches.

           “Or Suzie. But she would’ve told you herself if she knew anyone good.” Ace had shrugged, devouring another slice of pizza. “Thing is… thing is, you’re better off going to the source.  You just don’t wanna mess with it yourself if you don’t have to. You got really fucked up. You don’t wanna risk making it any worse, getting someone else to try to fix it.”

           “You think someone might turn me into a frog on accident?”

           Ace had laughed.

          “We could get you a cute costume that way. What d’you think, Geno?”

          “We could get him a cute costume now.”

          “Bet you already have.”

          Paul’s face went red. Ace winked.

          “But… really, thing is, this kind of shit isn’t your basic curse.”

          “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

          “Y’know, bad luck for a couple months, bad acne, psoriasis, that kinda curse.” Ace ran a thumb across his own pockmarked cheek, then added, unnecessarily, “I’ve had this since I landed on Earth, it ain’t a curse—but that’s about all most witches could’ve done to you.”

          “Anybody ever do anything to you, Ace?” Paul asked. It was a pretty fair question, Gene felt like. Ace used to run with a weird crowd. Still did. But Ace shook his head.

          “Nah. Well, Suzie told me KISS’d never get a number-one single here. But that was more of a prediction—”

          “She’s wrong.” Gene dismissed her out of hand. Across from him, sitting on the coffee table, Peter nodded in agreement. Ace shrugged.

          “What I mean is, it could take awhile to fix, and that’s if she wants to fix it.”

          “Ace, we’re not canceling the tour.”

          “’M not saying cancel.” Ace gnawed heavily on his lip. Gene could tell he was just about to ask Paul for a beer. “But how far back do you think we could push it? Couple months?”

          “We couldn’t push it back any without Bill wanting a reason why,” Gene said flatly.

          “So let’s give him a reason why.” Ace exhaled. “I’ll… y’know, I never did have a big honeymoon with Jeanette. I could tell him I wanted three weeks for that.”

          “That’s only three weeks—”

           “Yeah, but…” Ace reached for the Tab Peter had been drinking out of, finishing it off with a gulp. “It’s about buying time. We could keep on finding excuses if we had to.”

           “I don’t want you to have to,” Paul said. “I don’t want to fuck things up for everybody.”

           The silence lingered for several moments. No one said a word to argue his point. Paul’s gaze lowered to one of the cardboard pizza boxes, and, next to it, the box of Gene’s Studio 54 clothes. Finally, Peter spoke.

           “You can’t help it, Paulie. We’re gonna do what we can.” He rubbed his arm. “Could probably get my doctor to say I’ve gotta take off another month if I have to.”

           “Don’t say anything yet.”

           “I won’t. We won’t.” Peter hesitated. “Hey, you want us coming to 54 with you tonight?”

           Ace perked up.

           “That’d help. Four guys looking for the same girl. One of us could be in the basement, one in the VIP lounge upstairs—”

           “You’d just be fucking in the basement,” Paul accused dryly.

           “It’s good for running into people. Groupies all over there. Besides, Steve’s bunch is just as loaded as he is. They may not remember what girl you wanted.”

           Ace had a point. Gene mulled it over, glancing at Paul, who nodded, before he answered.

           “Yeah, okay. But not all in the same limo.”

           “Aw, c’mon! Why not?”

           “It’d attract too much attention. Everyone would be wondering where Paul was.”

           “Me and Pete’ll go together. We’ll get there later so it’s not as obvious.” Ace took another slice of pizza. “Remind me again, yeah? Brown hair, freckles, short?”

           “Yeah, that’s it.”

           “Carol… Carol Johnson?”

           “Jensen.”

           “Gotcha.” Ace shook his head. “God, Paulie, you gotta start making photo albums like Gene. You get better descriptions outta those police sketch artists.”

--

            The rest of the afternoon was placid enough. Paul and Gene lazed around after Ace and Peter left. Gene turned on the T.V. and they watched The Edge of Night (how the hell that soap was still on, Gene didn’t know), Paul flopping next to him with his legs hanging over the couch. There was something comfortable about it. Paul only got up once the show’s credits streamed down the screen, turning it off.

           “You don’t want to watch the news?”

           “No. We’d still have half an hour. Besides, I wanted to show you something. C’mon.”

           Gene followed him out of the living room, down the stairs to the den. He’d been there before, sure, but Paul had never really given him a house tour. KISS’ gold records hung from the wood-paneled walls, along with an assortment of posters and memorabilia from their earlier tours. All stuff Gene had at home himself—if anything, Gene had a lot more of it—but Paul didn’t acknowledge it, heading for three bookshelves packed with records.

           “Back when I was in high school,” he said, “I used to try to buy one album every couple of weeks. I’d have to get the cut-outs.”

           “Yeah, I know.”

           “So once we got big, I decided I’d get every record I ever wanted.” Paul grinned a little ruefully. “But I didn’t really think it through, so this is what I ended up with.”

           “Uh-huh.” Gene tugged out a copy of Alvin and the Chipmunks’ “Witch Doctor.” “I think that goes without saying.”

           “C’mon, I was a kid when that came out.”

           “Do you have ‘Flying Purple People Eater,’ too?”

           “Don’t laugh, I might.” Paul started thumbing through the shelves. Gene almost told him not to go looking for it, but instead of the Sheb Wooley single, Paul took out a copy of Rod Stewart’s latest offering, last year’s A Night on the Town. Gene looked at it quizzically.

            “What’s this for?”

           “Good luck.” Paul slid the record out of its sleeve and handed it to Gene. “Put it on.”

           Gene put it on. The vinyl crackled appreciably. Last year’s hit on that first track. Rod Stewart could pair filthy lyrics with a number-one hit, while KISS was stuck going the clean ballad route just to hit the top ten.

           “‘Tonight’s the Night’?” Oh. That made sense. Well, it made some sense. Gene was getting the impression Paul might not have thought his selection through, as Rod started to gravel-voice his way into getting a virgin into bed. “Hoping for a pretty exciting evening, aren’t you?”

           “Not—Gene, I meant we’d find the girl.” Paul tapped Gene’s shoulder with the album jacket. “It’s positive thinking. Norman Vincent Peale and all that.”

           Gene grinned.

           “Pretty raunchy. I thought you’d pick a cleaner pick-me-up.”

           “Whatever, I like it.” Paul propped the jacket against the record player. His face was faintly flushed. “The whole album’s pretty good.”

           “I know. I have it.” Gene listened to the saxophone’s croon before cutting in again. “You really just wanted me to see your record collection?”

           “No. Not exactly.” Paul shifted. “Look, I know you don’t really go to the discos much.”

           “So? Paul, I don’t mind doing it for you.”

           “Yeah, but… shit, I don’t know. You got bored last night.”

           “I didn’t get bored. I had a pretty good view.”

           Paul rolled his eyes.

           “There’s not a lot to do at 54 besides get wasted and dance. And neither of us is going to get wasted.”

           That was true of any club, and most of why he didn’t go. He could get laid just as easily in his own neighborhood, without the hassle of dressing up and schmoozing.

           “It’s fine. Maybe I’ll bring a book.”

           “Gene.” Paul had his tongue peeking slightly past his teeth. Nervous. “I wanna teach you to dance.”

           “What for?”

           “So you’ll have something to do. That way, we don’t look like creeps waiting around.” The first track was edging towards the halfway point. Paul took his hand. “What do you say?”

           “Don’t you want something a little faster?”

           “No. This is good.” Paul took Gene’s other arm, positioning his hand on his shoulder. “You can dance to anything, if you’ve got rhythm.”

           “You’re leading.”

           “Damn right.” Paul had his other hand on his waist already, was urging him forward with that hand. Gene took an obedient, offbeat step, and Paul sighed but stepped back in time with Gene instead of with the beat. A couple more steps and Paul had them back on track again, although Gene felt about as awkward as he had during senior prom ten years prior. “It’s mirroring, mostly. Mirroring and—getting a feel for your partner, what they can do.”

           “A feel, huh?”

           “Getting a feel, not copping one.” Paul pursed his lips in consideration. “Don’t watch your feet so much. Keep it up here.”

           “When did you start dancing?”

           “I dunno. I always wanted to.” He was starting to get more complicated than the sort of forward-back motion that was all Gene could readily accomplish. Shifting more than his feet around. Had he been doing that from the beginning? Paul’s grip on him was more relaxed than the reverse, that much was definite. “Just one of those stupid things. I used to watch all those variety shows when I was a kid, and think, ‘hey, I could do that.’ Dance, sing… puppeteer…” Paul snorted, and dropped his arm from Gene’s waist. Gene almost let go entirely, but then Paul squeezed his hand, raising it up. Gene gave him a blank look in return, before realizing, several beats too late, that Paul had been trying to get him into a spin.

           “Puppeteer?”

           “Howdy Doody’s a—formative influence—”

           “Uh-huh.” The mildly disappointed expression on Paul’s face made him a little concerned, and he added, “Try that again, I wasn’t ready.”

           Paul lifted his arm again. Gene made the spin, his movements stilted, feeling a bit stupid for all of it until he saw Paul start to grin.

           “Maybe we should try it like this.”

           “Like what?”

          Rod had just about made it with the girl, the moaned-out French at the end of the track something Gene could only guess at. Paul just took him by both hands.

          “A little less formal, right? Hang on.” Paul let go, hurrying back to the record player. Gene watched him take the vinyl off and stuff it back into the sleeve and jacket, before rummaging around the shelves again. He pulled out another record, though this time he didn’t show Gene the jacket before putting it on. Not that it mattered. Gene recognized the harmonies anyway, well before Paul made his way back to where he was standing. Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young’s Deja Vu.

          “Figured we could go way back.” Paul took his hands again as the record played, his steps faster, more energetic. Gene didn’t really think the band had meant for anyone to dance to their stuff. He kept up awkwardly at first, but something about how enthusiastic Paul was, how much he put into every move, how he tried to fit the steps to the songs, buoyed him. His curls would bounce a bit depending on the tempo. It was almost cute to watch. Almost infectious. Gene hesitated before trying to get Paul into a turn himself, getting a gratified look and an eager spin in return. He was starting to get it, a bit, the way just a shift or a squeeze of the hand was enough of a signal of where to turn or where he was headed. Like that sense he’d get, that sense they’d all get, if one of the guys was having an off night and they needed to cover during a concert. It was warm, intuitive.

          Paul was breathing a little heavily by the time they’d gone through the first few tracks, hands sweaty. Gene tried to get him into one more spin as the record buzzed. He caught Paul’s shoulder with his free hand while he was halfway through, his back towards Gene’s. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Paul stopped there, turning to look at Gene, questioning.

          “Something wrong?”

          “No. I’m fine.” Gene shifted forward—a bad idea; they’d been closer than he realized, and now he was up against him. The melancholic harmonies of “Country Girl” were starting to swell. Gene pursed his suddenly dry lips, feeling stupid, no, feeling absolutely moronic, as he let go of Paul’s hand. “I—I think we better get ready.”

          Paul’s expression drooped only for a moment, like the hesitant flicker of lights just before a power outage. His hand went to his side.

          “Oh. Oh, yeah. Lemme get the record.” He took a step, Gene’s hold on his shoulder slackening to nothing, Gene’s hand faltering down to his own side, and walked over to retrieve the record, the moment fading away before he even lifted the needle.

--

           A few hours later, Peter and Ace were in a limo, grousing. They’d gotten ready for Studio 54 earlier than they’d meant to from sheer antsiness, and now they were reduced to making the driver get them fast food they didn’t even want to kill time.

          Well, Peter didn’t want it, but he was pretty sure Ace would eat his share for him. He was also sure it wasn’t quite enough of a delaying tactic to keep him and Ace from arriving right around when Paul and Gene did, but Ace reassured him he could keep that from happening. Peter sighed, glancing out the window to make sure the driver wasn’t on his way out of the restaurant yet, before speaking again.

          “What do you think about it?”

           Ace raised his head slightly at the question. He had brought a deck of cards and was shuffling them as they waited. Sometimes he’d lift the cards up into a sloppy arc as he riffled through them. He’d been fairly quiet, no real goofing off, not even any drinking, since they’d doubled back to Peter’s, gotten ready for the evening, and scrounged up the limo. Two nights in a row at 54 might’ve been murder on a normal human being, but in his less-sober moments, Peter could convince himself he’d spent the last four years with Jendell’s most questionable export.

           “What do I think about what, Pete?”

           “What we’re gonna do about Paul.”

           “Nothing to do about Paul. Either he gets back to normal or he doesn’t.”

           “I meant the band.” None of them had really wanted to bring it up. Ace had only barely alluded to it when he’d offered to delay the tour with a honeymoon. “If we don’t find that girl, or Paul doesn’t get back to normal, what’s going to happen to the band?”

           “You know what’s going to happen.” Ace sounded more quietly cynical than he had in a long time. “We all know what’s going to happen.”

           “I’m not kicking Paul out of his own fucking band.”

           “I’m not, either. And Gene’d rather get a tongue reduction than hurt Paul like that.” Ace shifted, kicking his heels up to the glass partition between them and the driver, while he kept toying with the deck in his hands. “We’ll all just have to pack it up. If he doesn’t get fixed, KISS is gone.”

           Pack it up. The thought felt like the gum beneath a desk at school. Peter didn’t like thinking about the options. They could all try solo acts—he felt like he had a better shot than the others, given “Beth”… or join up in some other band, but it felt… dirty. It wasn’t like Paul had gotten on drugs or turned into a completely insufferable asshole or blown out his voice. He’d just had something shitty happen to him that they couldn’t—

           “Do you think Bill could spin it? Let’s say… let’s say we don’t tell him everything.” Peter was trying to think. “Let’s say Paul’s fucked off, but hey, we found a replacement that kinda looks like him. A real pretty girl. We got a whole new market. Chicks don’t ever front rock bands—”

           “Petey, we couldn’t keep it up.” Ace gnawed his lip. “Bill’d still wanna know who this girl was. Even if Paul could fool him, we’d still get blown out of the water the minute people started asking questions. We’d need IDs, a passport…”

           “We could get fakes made.”

           “Then what?” Ace shook his head. “Paul’d be living like that guy in The Fugitive. Worse. Having to pretend he really was some random chick in front of the whole damn world… I don’t wanna shoot you down, man, but we’re sunk.”

          Peter groaned.

          “KISS is sunk and Gene gets a girlfriend. Fucking terrible trade-off.”

           “Poor Geno.” Ace laughed. “He might figure it’s worth it, you think?”

           “Nah. Gene likes money more than he likes getting laid.” Peter swallowed. “You think they’ve fucked yet?”

           “C’mon, Paulie’s a lady,” Ace managed, before bursting into those weird, high giggles again. “He won’t give it up that quick. How long did it take you to warm him up to it?”

           “Not too long.”

           Ace held the deck up. Peter shook his head. Shrugging, Ace started trying to cut the deck with one hand, and flip the halves over with his thumb. He only succeeded in spilling most of the deck onto the floorboard and seats. Peter reached over, obediently helping him gather up the cards and handing them back over. Ace winked, taking the stack.

           “What’s on your mind, anyway, Cat?”

           “Nothing.”

           “Bullshit.” Ace said it lightly. “You’re not really worried about whether Gene’s made it with him or not.”

           “God, no.” The thought was more disturbing than it needed to be. “It’s just that I should’ve figured it out from the start.” Peter let out an irritated breath. “Gene only saw him once and figured it out. It took me three times. Paul had to tell me before I—"

           “Hey, you got him, that’s the important thing.”

           “Yeah, but… he wasn’t good at pretending the first time. He called me Pete. And the second time, he kept trying to tell me—”

           “Pete, c’mon, you weren’t expecting him to look like that—”

           “Makes me think I don’t really know him.”

           Ace looked at him almost sadly. He’d stopped fiddling with the deck of cards, setting them on his thigh.

           “You know him better than you think.”

           “You think so?”

           “Positive.” Ace’s head jerked up suddenly. Peter’s gaze followed his, and he saw the beleaguered limo driver heading out of the restaurant, with two sackfuls of barbeque sandwiches, fries, and a couple of sodas. Ace put an unnecessary finger to his lips as the driver opened their door and handed over the sacks. “Hey, man, thanks. Didja get yourself anything?”

           “I shouldn’t eat on the job.”

           “C’mon, I used to drive cabs, I’d eat in there all the time.” Ace cackled, digging awkwardly in his back pocket. “Get some food if you want. Then come back in here. We’ll play some poker before you take us over.”

           “You’re not worried about the time?”

           “Nah. I got the time if you got the money.” He grinned. “Hey, hey, Petey’ll spot you, right?”

           “I ain’t spotting anyone.”

           “Then the best hand gets… aw, hell, I dunno. You beat us three times in a row and we’ll bring you into the disco, you dig?”

           As the driver sidled into the back of the limo, Peter scooted over to give him room. Five minutes later, barbeque sandwich in one hand, a straight in the other, Peter decided they were going to be late after all.

[sirpeachess-casual]

(First: your Dick fics are everything I’ve been searching for. Watching Titans I was like... so Dick is depressed, obviously. But couldn’t find docs on it???) Do you take fic prompts? If so: (tw: depression) 1. Depressed Dick and protective/caring Donna through the years 2. Five times Donna carried Dick (fluff, angst, h/c, whatever, just big sister Donna even when they’re both adults)

Please Mr. Robin

Part 2 of the Catching Dick Grayson series

Summary: In which Dick loses it before his GCPD swearing-in ceremony. Donna and Tommy Edwards pick him back up.

Warnings: Depression, panic attack

~~

Three hours. Three hours - or one-hundred eighty minutes - until he was to be sworn in as the most recent detective of the GCPD in front of a small crowd of family, friends, and press with Police Commissioner Jim Fucking Gordon doing the honors. In three hours his nine months spent as a badge would be behind him. He was about to officially become a suit, officially join the side of the law - the side of justice and visibility. Scrutiny and investigation. Working with the badges and the last remaining vestiges of Dent's justice system rather than for or, in most cases, against them. He was about to become a good and proper, upstanding citizen of Gotham's limelight; there was no room in him anymore for vigilantes or their justice. In three hours, he would become something new - something more than Robin.

Bruce hadn't been invited. Then he had been. Then Dick had rescinded it. Eventually, he just fucking sent the invitation and then spent the following two days in his bathtub laboring over if he had made the right decision. Thinking about all the things Bruce would say if he did come. Stressing over all the things he would say when he didn't. Dick's relationship with Bruce was complicated, that much was certain. It was thin ice; suddenly the man he had grown up under was a spiderweb of cracks in his icy armor. Dick was walking on eggshells around him and he was on the completely opposite side of the city.

Dick didn't doubt for a second Bruce knew exactly what he was doing, though. Gotham's Golden Boy joining the police department? Finally entering the justice system to keep more kids like him from getting orphaned? And right here, on their own soil, no less? Not only that but now he was being promoted to Detective in record time. It was unheard of, remarkable, and the title of every bi-weekly tabloid for the last ten months.

Little did they know, their Golden Boy was hyperventilating and shaking and debating very heavily whether to press send on the phone number he had dialed. Donna was, of course, the first person he invited. Though, the conversation was more of an interrogation on her part, demanding date and time and specifics of what to wear - something proud but not flirty. Something dignified but dear god please no pearls. She wasn't a pearl type of woman, and they weren't the pearl type of friends. Inviting Alfred and Barbara wasn't even a question. Dawn and Hank needed more deliberation, though, and Donna finally convinced him it would be a nice gesture even if they weren't expected to show up.

That had been a good night. An evening of pizza and Crosby, invitations scattered around the apartment like landmines. Donna had rolled her eyes and called him the worst bridezilla she had ever known. And she had been a bridesmaid for Jade Nguyen of all people.

Two and three-quarters of an hour until it all came crashing down around him. Turns out, Rome didn't fall in one night. It came down in one-hundred and sixty-eight minutes from now after Jim Gordon made his speech. After the pleasantries were given. After Dick raised his right hand, made an oath, and they gave him a shiny new badge for all of his troubles.

Alfred would come. Barbara would be front row with a camera. Dawn and Hank appreciated the gesture (he hoped). Donna was on the way - a mere phone call away.

When he couldn't breathe anymore and the thoughts got too loud, the circles they ran in too tight, and his head spun trying to think past them, he called her.

"Hey, we're still another thirty minutes out but should be there in just in time to sit with Barbara and the others." Alfred. Not Bruce. Bruce wouldn't come.

He didn't respond, just hyperventilated into the mic as the sound of her voice sent him spinning the opposite direction.

"Dick?"

"I...I can't... Donna, I just - I don't deserve..."

"Are you at your apartment?" She almost sounded like she had expected this. Like she had been through this script so many times before, a rehearsal wasn't necessary. (And she had. They both knew public speaking, crowds, brown-nosing and ceremonies weren't his thing. Neither was healthy coping mechanisms and I love you, but you need therapy, Dick. From someone other than me, preferably.

"No, don't... Don't come."

"I'm on the way." She turned away to relay the situation and he lowered himself to his back, flat on the floor. His shoulders ground into the cold wood as he gasped for every short breath he could get. He had been doing so well. It had been so long without an attack. But, like a hurricane looming over the horizon, all he needed was the right ingredients and the perfect storm would be churning within him in no time. It never really went away; just got less likely for a season.

"Dick, get up and go put on a record. I'm 25 minutes out. Which one were you playing last?"

He hesitated. "I... I don't..."

"Go. Check."

He did, squinting at the label. "Crosby." From the other night. He hadn't changed it, hadn't had the strength to finalize his decisions by flipping the vinyl over. Also hadn't had time, what with a beat to walk and interviews to lie through and paperwork to put off.

"Star Dust again?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Find Mr. Sun."

"By Edwards?"

"Yes, by Edwards. That's the one with the, y'know, sing to her..."

"...Mr. Robin, yeah," he chuckled sadly. "And Mrs. Moonlight; put in a word for me." It was a family favorite, Please Mr. Sun by Tommy Edwards. Something his mom would hum under her breath and his dad was bellow from the tippy top of the center ring. Dick himself had done his first triple somersault to whisper to her, Mr. Wind.  

It was third in the pile, his fingertips finding the well-loved sleeve like the hands of a lover stroking a familiar cheek.

"Put it on," Donna instructed. "Play it."

"It'll be loud," he whined, slipping it into place. Confrontational bastard. Always arguing, even when she was talking him down from tearing himself apart before his big day.

"Good. Blast it. Who gives a shit if your neighbors complain?"

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

By the time she got to his apartment, using the key he always kept hidden in the doorframe like the human disaster he was, he was slumped against the end table in his living room, temple resting uncomfortably against the record player. The record spun, Tommy Edwards' tinny voice filling the space.

She sighed, but kept her pity to herself. Pity wasn't what he needed right now, though he knew he had it and more to spare. Dick dragged his eyes to meet hers, pulled in like two stray comets caught in the gravity of her blazing sun.

"Hey," she greeted tiredly but not unkindly, dumping her purse by the door. She kicked off her shoes and they landed somewhere.

He turned away bashfully, sorrowful and embarrassed.

"You're not gonna tell me I look nice?" Hiking her short dress up, she sat cross-legged next to him. Back pressed to the wall and shoulder wedged into his side.

"You look nice."

"I know." She opened her arms and he leaned into them greedily. Despite their height differences, they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Years of practice had made squeezing his lengthy frame into her easy, as familiar as crawling into bed or wearing his favorite sweater. Except those didn't hug back. "You get it all out by now?" she wondered, stroking his back.

With a silent cry and hitch in his breathing, another wave of tears rolled down his cheeks and he turned into her deeply, squeezing with neediness. He could squeeze as tightly as he wanted and she wouldn't bruise. It was a limit they discovered years ago and he had taken full advantage of it ever since. Because sometimes his hands could be too rough. Sometimes his fists hurt as much as his words. And she could take them all, matching and redistributing until he was sober (back to his right mind) enough to apologize.  

She checked her watch even as she pulled him closer. "You've got little over two and a half hours. Have you eaten?"

His head shook against her shoulder.

"Of course you haven't."

He sniffed and she recognized the sound of it like the chorus of a famous song. Dick Grayson was a man with many hearts. The kind of person who gave a piece of himself to everyone he loved. It left him full of holes, though, when they inevitably broke his heart, shattered his soul, used and abused him because he deserved better. And those holes had very distinct sounds whenever he tried in vain to fill them with salty tears. This one was about Bruce. Because it was fucking always about Bruce.

"Come on, you invited him. You sent the invite. What he does with it isn't on you," she cooed, shifting so he could curl more comfortably against her.

"He's... he's not going to - he won't come."

She made a face. "Probably not. Probably because he thinks you don't want him there."

"I don't."

And wasn't that something she had heard on repeat so many times in the last four weeks. Almost as if, the more he said it, the truer it would become.

She patted him on the back exactly twice. "Sure, Bird Boy. Whatever you say."

"That one's my fav'rite."

"I know."

They sat in quiet for a long moment. Occasionally, the crying would start again and he would start muttering nonsensically. She had a lifetime of experience translating broken Dick Grayson tears, though, and would reply expertly and calmly, soothing him sometimes and often letting him ramble his thoughts away.

Eventually, she checked her watch again. Two-ish hours to go. "I'm going to make you some food. And you are going to eat it. If you want to cry until it's done, fine, but once you eat you aren't allowed to anymore, got it? Not until we get through this stupid ceremony, at least."

He gulped down a swallow, nodding reluctantly. "You don't have to go."

"Oh no. I want to hear what good old Jimbo has to say. And to you of all people." Went without saying that the Commissioner would be more than pleased to have a Bat on the force - officially, at least. It was a conversation Dick had had in length with him before being offered the promotion. Being a badge was good for the young man, but it wasn't where he would be best utilized. Besides, a suit would transfer easier if (when) he did end up leaving Gotham. And also because Jim wanted to be sure Dick wasn't doing all of this as a fuck you to his old man. And Dick wasn't about to work for a man who would promote him solely because of his vigilante ties.

"Good." Rising to her feet, Donna reset the record needle and started the song over. She hummed along, shoving her shoes out of the way. The kitchen was stocked with dust and barren cupboards, but she found a leftover deli sandwich in the fridge that would have to do. And one cupcake. "Cupcake?"

Dick chuckled, wiping his eyes and resuming his position against the wall. He turned the record player down several notches and timed his breathing to the rhythm. "From Mr. Craps."

"Mr. Craps made you one single cupcake?"

"Left over from his... grandson's graduation? Thought - said he thought I was looking a little thin."

Donna smirked, slamming the sandwich into the microwave. "Knew I liked that man."

"He's sweet."

Dick cried until his lunch was ready. At which point he wiped his eyes, took a long second to settle his breathing, then slowly munched on his meal. It wasn't enough to make him full, but for his queasy stomach, it was just enough to satisfy. Donna helped herself to half of the cupcake, swiping a generous dollop of frosting off the top. They toasted their halves. It took another long moment for the war between Dick's heart and head to decide if he deserved the sugary treat. In the end, his sweet tooth won (like it always did) and he enjoyed the stale piece of cake a lot more than he expected to.

As she gathered the dishes, she instructed him to go take a shower. It didn't matter if he already had today; he needed another one. And hurry too, because they would need to leave soon if he was going to get there on time. He agreed silently, because arguing would be pointless, and emotionally scrubbed the tears and snot from his face. He almost broke down again in the sanctuary of hot water and soap, but the weight in his stomach reminded him he wasn't allowed to until this whole ordeal was other with. He sucked it up and emerged shortly after, dressed in a sharply pressed uniform, cap under his arm, hair swept nicely to its proper position, and no longer looking like he wanted to die.

She surprised him with a sneak photo from her phone and said Alfred would be proud of his lines.

[gannonwyatt]

⌜ •° ✦ °• — HEY!! is that SEBASTIAN STAN? no, that’s GANNON WYATT, hanging out in BROOKLYN. they’re THIRTY-FOUR years old and use HE/HIM/HIS pronouns. what do they do here? they’re A RECORD STORE CLERK (RETIRED NAVY SEAL - HONORABLE DISCHARGE FOR INJURY) and they’ve lived here TWO YEARS. their favourite thing about the city is THE MUSIC SCENE, but they hate FICKLE PEOPLE. they pride themselves on being ABLE TO SLEEP WITH HIS EYES OPEN. - ── ( vera. 31. she/her. cst. )

( A E S T H E T I C )

dust motes & lamp-light & empty cans of ipa. windows yawn open, stirring lonesome strains of pipe smoke into seemingly meaningful patterns. it was the same dried leaf his grandfather smoked, and the scent eases the pain that splinters his bones. into his 2nd floor studio comes the constant whirring drone of the living, brooklyn streets below. cool night air twists drab curtains and shuffles stacks of unopened mail. a vintage pioneer record player and a scuffed kenwood amp work with pristine edifier speakers to combat the world outside with song. zeppelin, ulver, jackson browne, hank jr., massive attack, shostakovich, jefferson airplane. inside, he contemplates alphabetizing by surname, era, genre, instrumentation, chord progression. the wave-like sound of sorting sleeves is where peace lives.

( P A R T I C U L A R S )

✗. birthday: aug. 23 (virgo)

✗. middle name: havor.

✗. myers-briggs: intp (introverted, intuitive, thinking, perceiving) - the logician

✗. favorite book: suttree, by cormac mccarthy.

✗. favorite album: (currently) lurker of chalice, self-titled

✗. height: 6′.

✗. marital status: single.

✗. sexuality: demi.

✗. positive traits: patient, organized, strategic, calm, logical, observant, honest, strong-willed, brave.

✗. negative traits: harsh, perfectionist, critical, cold, withdrawn, aloof, damaged.

( H E A D C A N O N S )

i. gannon grew up in a single parent home. cora wyatt was a widowed irish immigrant who worked as the head waitress of a little diner in bayonne, new jersey. she was a loving, hardworking woman who encouraged gannon’s independence at an early age out of necessity. he prepared his own meals and got himself to and from school without any issue.

ii. without a father-figure of his own, gannon found himself seeking out the presence of guiding figures. by the time he was fourteen, he had quite a collection of archetypes — from the bookish science teacher to the rugged mechanic on his block, he was in no short supply of those from which he could learn something useful. fred auerbach, however, was his favorite. he’d met him on the ferry by chance, having sat right next to him. from a pair of walkman headphones, gannon heard his first muffled strains of pink floyd’s dark side of the moon. his inquiry into what he’d heard, tinny and garbled through small, sony speakers was the catalyst for a life-long love affair with music. fred, a middle-aged composer and cellist for the new york city philharmonic, was receptive of a wide-eyed protege, so he lavished his knowledge of music upon gannon and, eventually, his love of collecting music. it was refreshing to find a young mind open to exploring music at such depth. their friendship was an odd one, but one they both treasured greatly. on gannon’s eleventh birthday, fred gave him a walkman. on his thirteenth birthday, a pioneer record player. on his fifteenth birthday, season tickets to the philharmonic. for graduation, a gibson les paul classic.

iii. gannon worked in the garage on his block until graduation, enough money to buy a new record a week and help his mother with the bills. it wasn’t glamorous work, but it came naturally to him — picking things apart and understanding how they worked — plus, he could listen to music as loud as he wanted while he worked. 

iv. while gannon was gifted at math and science, his long hours at the garage kept him from performing as well as he might have otherwise. without any scholarships being offered him, he was prompted by jack, the garage owner, to take the asvab. he scored a 99.

v. barely a year into his first tour, he was selected for navy seals, special forces. gannon excelled in a military environment, exceeding the expectations of his superiors. he proved a level-headed if reluctant leader, quick on his feet in dire situations, and able to make difficult decisions under the gun. by the time he was 25, he’d earned respectable rank among his peers. 

vi. the next year, his mother succumbed to cancer. he was granted a month of leave to wrap up her affairs. upon returning home, he ran into his high school friend, rachel. she helped him through the loss, and he allowed her to get closer to him than anyone before. by the time he was called back for duty, they were engaged.

vii. the next five years were a blur. gannon found himself entrenched in military life. he returned home to his fiance when he could, but the demands of his post were overwhelming. most of his comrades were without attachment, and it was easy for gannon to forget the home whence he came and those that were awaiting his return. 

viii. at 31, gannon’s career ended when he lost his right leg and right eye to an IED. he was honorably discharged and sent home.

ix. rachel attempted to help him through the loss, but the severity of his ptsd proved too much for her nerves. after a few years of struggling to navigate his grief with him, she gave up, leaving him alone.

x. once again, it was fred auerbach that turned gannon’s life around when he looked his young friend up on a whim. having bought a fine storefront in brooklyn for a record shop, it occurred to the old man there was only one person he could trust to run his investment with any integrity. gannon was reluctant at first, too blinded by his own grief to see any potential in anything but his own suffering, but once he saw the bowing wood floors and the art deco chandelier hanging in the store’s window, something bloomed within him that he’d thought long-dead: passion.

xi. fred’s vinyl resting place would become a cornerstone of the music culture in brooklyn, nyc. not only did it boast an enormous collection of vinyl, cds, and tapes, but a burgeoning basement venue for exclusive, intimate shows by artists, new and established. locals enjoy a PBR at beer:thirty when browsing the endless aisles of rare and popular presses, or while listening to a local act’s new release. though fred’s growing older in years and not able to man the shop anymore, he’s left it in capable of hands. gannon manages the bookings, inventory, and two employees with ease.

xii. gannon spends a lot of time alone, though he keeps busy. his nights are interrupted by nightmares, so he gets very little sleep — choosing instead to pace around stacks of records in his flat, attend shows, or fool around with his guitar. 

xiii. he has an artificial right leg, and it begins just below the knee. while he can get around without issue most of the time, sometimes his joints ache — when it’s cold or raining. in those instances, he must use a cane, and he hates it.

xiv. few know him well. those that don’t think he’s an asshole because of his quiet, detached nature, but he’s very kind and would give a stranger the shirt off his back.

xv. he has begun restoring a honda nighthawk 750 in his spare time at the garage in bayonne where he worked as a kid. he hopes to have it running by the fall.

[queenarticlearchive]

Sophisticratic rock - Genevieve Hall gets a dressing down from Queen

Record Mirror

March 30, 1974

Genevieve Hall

Fire and brimstone, the gnashing of teeth and all of hell’s fury, is nothing compared to the anger and wrath of Queen.

It was the first journalist they’d encountered after having had their new album Queen II slagged off unmercifully in most of the music papers. Plus the fact that one particular journal had analytically delved into the depths of hype using Queen and Merlin as their prime examples.

So was it any wonder that all their embittered feelings of outrage, hurt, anger and frustration poured out like hot lava from an erupted volcano?

Lead guitarist Brian May picked up the paper and waves it under my nose. “This article is the biggest load of rubbish I’ve ever read in my life”, he declares vindictively.

“Look, there are people going to read this article - some of them won’t have heard of Merlin and some of them won’t know us. The headline screams out commercial pop. They’ve printed a very old picture of us, which we hate, looking extremely poppy, and underneath it is the word HYPE. The whole article says in a suggestive way that Queen are a hype.”

Hype

“To be honest it looks to us like a put-up job. They say we’re a put-up job. I say that’s a put-up job, and the reasons are that this paper completely ignored us all the time we were going around on the road building up a following. We draw about a minimum of a thousand people a night for the last God knows how many months and they all know where we’re at.

“This paper completely ignored us and so now that we’ve got to the position where our records are taking off and we’re in the public eye. Now we’ve got to that position without the help of the music papers, they can’t really admit that we’re good, they have to suggest we’re a hype or something.”

Is that how you really see it? I asked.

“That’s exactly how we think it is,” joined in their drummer Roger Taylor. “Supported by the fact that they’ve compared us to a totally new band who we’ve never even heard of. We don’t want to say anything against them, but, apparently they’re just a straight pop band. Whereas we’ve been playing and working up to this for years. Christ, I’m 24, Brian’s 25, Freddie is 27, John’s a bit younger 23. Plus the fact that we’re all intelligent enough not to want to be put across in that way. We want to put out music first.”

Is it coming first? I asked, we appear to be getting a giant-sized image with the music running a close second.

“That’s only ‘cos we want to put our music across in the most striking and entertaining way. We want to make an impact. Surely that’s what it’s all about - entertaining.

“And that’s another thing,” he continues, “They’ve given the impression that someone’s said to us, ‘here’s a load of money boys, go down to Carnaby Street and get yourselves some clothes.

“Freddie and I used to sell old clothes. In fact Freddie used to design and MAKE our stage costumes. We’ve always taken care to make sure that our clothes are just right and look good. Perhaps they’d prefer it if we went on in dirty jeans, but we don’t really think the public want to look at that. I think they’d rather see something that looks good.”

Their lead vocalist Freddie Mercury (the aristocratic one) reads aloud with indignation the parody of a hype lead singer, and comes to a part where it says that hype bands employ writers to pen their instant hit singles.

“Now how the hell do they think we fall into that category? They haven’t done any homework. They’ve even called John our bassist our drummer. They haven’t even bothered to find out what we’re really about.

“Everyone seems to object if you’re playing what you think is serious and the kids buy it, they can’t understand it.

“Well we’ve definitely had no Chinn and Chapman behind us,” Roger bursts out, “every song we’ve do is planned by us, including our album sleeves” (note the famous Queen crest designed by Freddie).

Uncontrolled

“We even have control on which tracks we want released. In fact out of all the bands, I think we’re the most uncontrolled.”

“Exactly,” says Freddie, “That’s why this article is a complete farce and nowhere near the truth.”

OK - so how come they’re able to obtain this uncontrolled freedom? It was Brian who answered. “Because the record companies desperately wanted us in the beginning. I know it sounds like blowing our own trumpet, but it’s true. We made demo tapes and everyone thought they were good and wanted us. They realised they were in competition with each other. So in the end we were able to settle for a deal which enabled us to dictate a bit.”

You can’t deny that you’ve been getting preferential treatment over a lot of equally good bands, I said glancing around at their specially provided de-luxe van, which had been given to them at the beginning of their British tour.

“Ah wait a minute,” says Roger. “It wasn’t until our record company realised we were succeeding before they started giving us the big treatment. At first EMI printed 5,000 copies of our first album and much to their surprise they had to reprint that number five times over. So naturally when we made our second album, they felt justified in a lot of work behind it. Which is really why there’s been enough copies in the shops to put it into the charts in the first week.”

“Yes, but any record company if they’ve got any sense is going to do that,” says Freddie, “it looks like we’re getting knocked for having the right people around us doing their jobs properly.”

Is that a large part of their success - having the right people doing the right job?

“No”, answered Roger, “that comes after. Our success is due to us being a bloody good band and also having common sense - ‘cos there a lot of bloody good bands around - to get things managed properly. But even so we wouldn’t have had the support of the people if they hadn’t believed in us in the first place.”

And now over to Freddie. “People think that if there’s a lot of money put behind a band and they seem to make it quicker than usual, then they’re a hype. But we’ve geared ourselves to jump a few hurdles and have benefited by doing so.” He glances down at his picture.

“Oh really,” he exclaims in disgust, “this paper has no flair - I mean to print this picture three times in succession … and just look at my arms!” He was horrified, “look at how fat they appear, now my arms aren’t like that at all - what do you think?”

He rolls up his sleeves for me to inspect and I’d like to state here and now that the poor dear’s arms are quite, quite slender!

Ripped-off

Phew! If after all that you think that the lads are hypersensitive to criticism and feel animosity towards their critics, then let Roger put you straight.

“No, we don’t hold grudges - we just go round and wrench people’s arms and legs off. Or send them bags of wet cement, nothing too violent!”

By this time John Deacon (who reminded me of the Alice’s doormouse) had woken from his slumbers (too many late nights and early mornings), he was reasonably cheerful for someone who had had his clothes ripped off the day before.

“By the law of averages,” he was saying, “it’s someone else’s turn to be ripped off today.”

You talk to him about the success of their Queen II album and he says, “It’s all our Mums and hype.” He’s a lot quieter than the other three, but can’t help warming to him as he’s completely unpretentious.

Freddie is a pretty dynamic character, he has an air of confidence which can sometimes be mistaken for arrogance. He has hair the colour of midnight, luminous brown eyes which he makes look evil with skillful use of make-up. He speaks ever so nicely (don’t you dear?) with the superfluous use of his hands, and commands attention rather than demands it.

Brian’s the tallest one and has a shock of dark curls which bring out the green flecks in his lucent grey eyes. He’s the thoughtful considerate one, and it’s a joy listening to him arguing with Roger.

And Roger - well he’s the pretty one with a sense of fun. He doesn’t look capable of busting a gut over a set of drums, but once he gets that adrenaline moving - the guy goes berserk.

Sucker

Music wise, Queen are a heavy electric rock band - but not raucous. There’s a fair amount of melodic structure incorporated in their material, which contains complex harmonies and could quite easily become messy was it not skillfully honed to precision. They’re exciting to listen to and watch, and have the good sense to capture rather than rupture the senses. The only word which describes their musical finesse is SOPHISTICATION.

After their British tour which climaxes at the Rainbow Theatre, Queen will take their ‘sophisticratic’ rock for a two-month stateside tour. Their opening night will be in Denver, Colorado, where they appear on the same bill as Mott the Hoople. I don’t know about the rest of you - but I’ve always been a right sucker for royalty.

[hag-lad]

Digging Deeper

Thank you to my radiant wonderful friend @alienfuckeronmain for sending me EXACTLY the type of self indulgent wind-down activity I wanted on this otherwise depressing weekend! If anyone else wants to answer FORTY-NINE QUESTIONS about themselves, I’m super nosy and will read it all! @fight-the-seether @ptolemyofchaos @butchwizard @metalbutch @nyndelion @comrade-ziltoid @leatherdear @kristalknobb Enjoy, friends!

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? I prefer black, but I always feel like I write neater in blue??

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? The city, but only if it has breathable air, green infrastructure, and decent public transit. So like... definitely no city in America lmao

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? The ability to quickly become fluent in another language! I’ve been struggling with Spanish for literal YEARS and it’s honestly pathetic. My brain is so stuck on English.

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? Look pal. If I wanna drink sugar, I’m gonna have a soda, not herb water or bean juice.

5. What was your favorite book as a child? I was OBSESSED with The Wish List, by Eoin Colfer (of Artemis Fowl fame). I remember being so fascinated by how dark it was?? It’s an afterlife adventure, where the main character has to escape purgatory by atoning for her crimes of robbery and fraud and whatever. I had a crush on her, so basically this book made me want to pursue a life of crime, even though it explicitly condemns crime and depicts Hell as a very real and horrible place. I was in like fourth grade and was super morbidly curious about Hell and the possibility of going there! Lol

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? Baths... but only when I’m not actually dirty going in. A bath is leisure, not hygiene.

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? 100% fae! I would build my dwelling within a sidhe mound, steal shiny things in the middle of the night, make bastardly little contracts for no reason, and cause harmless mayhem and mischief because mortals really are fools (go off, robin goodfellow!) Also I love mushroom circles and dancing in the moonlight.

8. Paper or electronic books? Paper all the way! I read much more content electronically, but it’s usually in the short story or article format. Books are much better in print, I think.

9. What is your favorite item of clothing? Probably my rust-brown overalls.

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? I’ve always hated my name but no alternative has ever stuck, unfortunately. My name is Amy, and I don’t think it fits at all. If I knew I’d never have to correct anyone on it, I’d probably just change it to Amelia?

11. Who is a mentor to you? My little brother! He’s this genius musician, and he has taught me so much about song structure, polyrhythms, guitar technique, production tricks, all kinds of trivia that really deepen my appreciation for music and the LABOR that goes into it.

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? No, never, not for anything. I cherish my anonimity so much, I don’t even put searchable tags on this blog cuz I get an adrenaline spike from anxiety if too many people interact with me. I also just think fame is a fucking hideous construct. I don’t think it’s even slightly cool or desirable.

13. Are you a restless sleeper? No, I’m a fucking log. I can easily sleep for 12 hours straight. Thanks, depression!

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? No, actually. I’m very much in love, and it brings me lots of joy to do nice things with and for my partner! But romance feels very difficult for me to connect with. I’m super domestic, like, I love the idea of marriage but not necessarily a wedding, or a moonstruck romance or whatever. Those dramatic gestures feel very awkward for me.

15. Which element best represents you? EARTH. Specifically, like... dirt, or soil.

16. Who do you want to be closer to? I want to be geographically closer to my family. We’re thick as thieves, but we all live like 50 miles apart from each other. I miss my brothers and my parents so much, I feel so incomplete and depressed without them to hang out with, especially since quarantine.

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? See above! Lol

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. When my little brother was a baby, he had this grey car seat with a folding mechanism which held his legs in place. It made a very satisfying clicking sound when the mechanism moved, AND when it was fully unfolded, it looked a lot like a Klingon battle cruiser. (Or so my five year old brain thought.) So! My older brother and I would take this seat out of the car CONSTANTLY so that we could unfold it and “sing” the Klingon theme music from Star Trek: The Motion Picture while we scooched our car seat battle cruiser across the living room floor, pretending to shoot phasers into the TV or the dining table or whatever else got in our way.

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? Gifilte fish, maybe?

20. What are you most thankful for? My family, including my wonderful partner and all the cats in our lives!

21. Do you like spicy food? Yes! But my tolerance for extreme spice decreases every year, unfortunately. So I can’t handle as much heat as I used to, but I do enjoy a good kick.

22. Have you ever met someone famous? Lmaooo I made the regretful decision to PAY FOR a meet&greet with Fall Out Boy in like 2006, which was so fucking awkward and painful, I vowed to never approach that level of lame again.

23. Do you keep a diary or a journal? TONS! I’m an obsessive record keeper. Some years I journal more than others, and I’ve found that it is super difficult to keep up with it while working full time. But it’s absolutely one of my favorite hobbies.

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or pencil? Pen for writing. Pencil for drawing, and math.

25. What is your star sign? Virgo sun, Aquarius moon, Scorpio rising 🙃

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? Crunchy! A shallow bath in that milk is key.

27. What would you want your legacy to be? My artwork. I go through these aesthetic phases every year that I become super obsessed with/ focused on, and I’ve always meant to catalogue them in annual art journals, but I’ve NEVER FINISHED ONE! They always get pushed aside by the need to work, and I hate that so much. If I could just take a year off work and backfill all of my missed concepts into completed books, I would be so happy. But I literally have NO WAY to pay for that, absolutely none. I fucking hate capitalism.

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? I love to read, but finishing a whole book has been A STRUGGLE lately! Right now I’m chipping away at Tending Brigid’s Flame, which is a quaint lil devotional for the Celtic fire goddess. Very new agey, like cheesy Wiccan vibes. I love that shit!

29. How do you show someone you love them? Quality time!

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? Only if I have a straw. Ice touching my teeth kinda makes me wince.

31. What are you afraid of? Incompetance, doing a bad job, letting someone down, taking up too much space, being a nussiance, etc

32. What is your favourite scent? Incense! Especially cinnamon, dragon’s blood, and amber.

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? I always call people, regardless of age, by the name they ask me to use. Sometimes it’s a surname or title, usually it’s a first name. I’ll ask their preference if I’m unsure. But I definitely don’t default toward a surname, that’s weird.

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? COMPLETELY DIFFERENTLY!!!!!! The need for money rules literally every single hour of my entire life, and I hate it so much. I’m naturally nocturnal, but my job requires me to get up super early and sit in a car for 11 hours a day. I wake up at 5am, come home front work at 5pm, spend an hour or two trying to unwind, then go to bed and do it all over again. I hate my life! Really! I never see the stars, I never exercise, I am completely exhausted and burnt out all the time, and I barely get any quality time with my partner. If money were no object, I would sleep til noon or 1, make art and hike all day, ride my bike and stargaze all night, stay up til 4am reading and playing with my cats, and sleep like a baby. My partner and I would cook dinner for each other and watch Star Trek and collaborate on art projects and I would be so happy.

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? Here’s my hierarchy: Private pool > ocean > public pool

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? I’d look around to see if anyone obviously dropped it and try to give it back. If I couldn’t find anyone, I’d exchange it for dollars and deposit that shit into my account!

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? Of course!! Hundreds!

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? America is evil and needs to be destroyed.

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? Lmao this is so cute. If you HAD TO HAVE a tattoo! I really wanna finish my damn sleeves, they’re literally 9 years in the making and barely half finished. But I’d also love more art on my legs! I DESPERATELY want Ziltoid in a lacy valentine heart on my thigh.

40. What can you hear now? Our fish tank water bubbling and my fan on full blast.

41. Where do you feel the safest? Home alone, doors locked, windows covered, lights low. I absolutely LOVE to not be seen or perceived in any way.

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? My fear of discomfort

43. If you could time travel to another era, which one would you choose? I feel like I’d want to be a teen in the 80’s and an adult in the 90’s. Does time travel work that way?

44. What is your most used emoji? 😭 or 😎

45. Describe yourself using one word. Defeated

46. What do you regret the most? Convincing myself that math was too hard or boring (or something?) when I was in middle school. I feel like I’m actually a pretty intelligent person who could’ve totally overcome that difficulty and gone on to understand all kinds of patterns and concepts which have eluded me to this day! It’s so frustrating to try and fight that formative self-concept, which now comes naturally but ultimately sabotages me. 💀

47. Last movie you saw? I made my partner watch Troop Beverly Hills, one of my childhood faves. It’s so fun! I love chick flicks so much.

48. Last tv show you watched? Deep Space Nine. Getting through the first season has been harder than expected. It’s actually my favorite Star Trek show?? (Orrrr maybe that’s TNG, ahh! It’s so hard to choose!) But season one is so baffling and awful! Why is there so much space capitalism??! And racism? And war? And drinking alcoholic beverages? #notmystartrek

49. Invent a word and its meaning. I used to call a single strand of curly hair a “curly quink” when I was a child. Therefore, a “quink” is a section of hair, usually a particularly cute or iconic one.

[shesawriter39049]

|CV SQUAD | Social media AU

MIAMI   NEW YORK    LONDON  LA

CV SQUAD TAKE: MIAMI,NEW YORK, LONDON, LA

AU WARNING: SMUT WISE, THERE WILL BE A MIXTURE (F/M) (M/M) (M/F/M) SO IF THAT OFFENDS YOU DO NOT READ ONCE POSTED!

JIMIN/OC CENTERED AU (OT7 SUB FOCUS, THE OTHER MEMBERS ARE IN THIS A LOT)

SOCIAL MEDIA AU : SMUT/HUMOR/LIQUOR/LANGUAGE/RECREATIONAL DRUGS

POSSIBLE LIGHT ANGST IN THE FUTURE

BACKSTORY:

Jimin (23), Y/N (24), Namjoon (25),Yoongi (25), and Jungkok(21) all met in college, for Media Arts, and ended up coming together for the sole purpose of a group project. From that “Candid Vibes” was born a podcast hosted by Jimin, Y/N , and Namjoon that’s now streamed by millions 3 days of the week.

“Candid Vibes” is a space where you're free to talk about everything from politics to bullshit. Nothing's off limits and no opinions wrong, your free to think and feel how you want...the only requirement is that you leave filters and judgments at the front door. Fast forward 4 years, and a couple million followers later and you have the “CV Squad Tour” to celebrate their podcast turning 3 and there youtube channel which just hit two million subs turning 1 year old! A mixture of content dances through there Youtube channel streaming a live recording of the podcast once a week , as well as daily/weekly vlogs, behind the scenes footage ETC.

One of the many perks to their social media presence is of course the sponsorships, starting with the fact that JETTLY volunteered to sponsor the air transportation. Of course in exchange for “clout” ...pictures, hashtags, snaps, vlog  footage..you name it, as well as AirBnb are handiling the living accommodations. In addition to numerous other brand deals which I’m sure you’ll see tagged in almost every tour related post this group uploads over the next 16 days. Especially because they've also created a separate IG account specifically for the tour appropriately titled CVSQUADTOUR.

OH, then there's that, their going to 4 different places over a 16 day span, each city having its own live podcast, filmed in front of an audience that holds between 3-5 thousand people. As well as a meet and greet the day before the show, and an afterparty at a club immediately after the podcast wraps. The show has always been known for being very interactive with it’s listeners, as well as having an alternating guest host at least once a month. One of their listeners favorite guests come from another popular Youtube Channel “TEAMJTH” or simply Jin (25) Hoseok (25) and Taehyung (23) (Try guys/ Buzzfeed unsolved vibes, they all have individual talents that gained them followers. But together they are known for their chemistry,personality and just randomly hilarious videos).

This threesome will also be joining them on tour, not making an appearance on every show..there tagging along more so just for shits and giggles. But they will make appearances at, at least 2 of the 4 live podcasts along with a couple of the after parties! This octet entered the game around the same time,and despite all the rumors and fake drama scandals trying to pin them against each other. As the years progress they’ve only managed to get even closer, in more ways than one.

*****Essentially, TEAMJTH, live almost an hour away, and also have there own thriving careers and YT channels, so they don’t hang out with the members of the CV SQUAD every day. Not to say they don’t talk on a regular basis but they probably only see each other like 3 times a month. So anything that has or hasn’t happened sexually in the past between the 8 of them(Even within the CV SQUAD who live together) it’s not a common occurrence, it’s also not something that’s “expected”. 

But  It’s been a while since they’ve all been together in this sort of setting, which makes things even more tempting ! I.E living and traveling together, going out to clubs, immense amounts of alcohol and  jet lag....

****The plan is 4 parts...one per city..

I’m NOT promising smut/smutty moments with EVERY member but at least 4-5 of them!

-All of the ‘Characters” are BI including the OC, also Yoongi is the CV squads manager/creative director, while Kookie is there videographer and editor!  

There all very tanned BTW since they live in CA

JIMIN-(SY TOUR Jimin, when his hair was dark and kinda long all over, parted down the middle! Jimin is tatted a pierced(s) though...you’ll just have to wait and see where!) 

NAMJOON- (BWL ice blonde joonie, lightly tatted, and maybe an unexpected piercing or two...) 

HOSEOK (5TH MUSTER Hobi style wise, long and parted down the middle, BUT color, it’s that deep burgundy-ish brown he had once the bright red started to fade.  He also has a tiny hoop in his nose, and one tattoo but it’s a big one.

TAEHYUNG (5TH MUSTER Tae Tae, long ,wavy, fluffy, either messily falling in his face or parted down the middle when straight. Taehyung has his tongue pierced and that’s all I’ll give away 

KOOKIE (5TH MUSTER/FLUFFY AIRPORT Kook, just long, dark,bouncy and typically parted down the middle. Kookie has a half sleeve 

JIN (5TH MUSTER/ Jin with his fluffy lavender hair )

YOONGI- (Ice blue/blonde MIC DROP/DNA ERA YOONGI) Pierced Yoongi…….

Y/N( OBV I keep this vague but she’s tatted as well, and has her nipples, and nose are  pierced.. Aesthetically she is an influencer though so, nails,hair,makeup...the common outline lol )

I have a OT7 series “Private sessions” and after part 1 I didint like the way that one panned out...so this will somewhat replace that one...BUT this has nothing to do with “LOFT 26″ part 2 is coming VERY soon!

PART 1 

SOCIAL MEDIA EDITS 

PART 1

PART 2 

NO PREMIER DATE AS OF YET: BUT I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SECRETLY FOR A WHILEEEEEEEE! I JUST REFUSED TO POST ABOUT IT UNTIL I DID AN UPDATE ON MY MAFIA SERIES!

LOVE YOU GUYS AS ALWAYS,

ROCKI!

[slavicviking]

For the Fanfic Mash Up. 25 & 33 for Hiccstrid!

Fairy Tale AU + Baby Fic

A fairy tale with a hiccup, one might say (*badumtss*)

it’s like we’re in a fairy tale (but slightly to the left)

“I am here, thy princess, to, uh,” a young man slides down the sleeve of his shirt and squints at the smudged letters written over his arm. “Fear no more as I-”

“Laddie, you missed a turn, ” a pulp woman of about forty buts in, hands on her hips, as she opens the door. “Seventh mountain?”

“Um. Yes?”

“That’s the sixth,” she informs him with a small smile tugging at her lips. “You need to go pass the magic forest first, son.”

“Oh. Oh gods. I am so sorry-”

The woman waves her hand, snorting a laugh. “You’re the third one this week, lord…? Prince…?”

“Uh, Haddock. Hiccup. The Third,” He pauses. “Prince.”

“Well, Haddock Hiccup The Third Prince, let me invite you in,” she chuckles when his eyes widen, mouth slightly agape. “I have cookies.”

***

I am here thy princess as I - no.

I am here to save - ugh. No. All of the no.

Fear no more because - most definitely not.

Hiccup sighs and crosses another phrase out. Mentally. In his head. Because he’s many feet above the ground, hands on the saddle, with the wind slapping his face with the his hair, and that is so not the environment for actually writing out phrases that will get him probably knived by the princess’s father, if not by the princess herself. Hiccup definitely, though, thinks that the “Ten Ways to Charm Your Cursed Beloved” book he got from Snotlout needs a quick swim in the sea below him.  

Instead he slumps his shoulder and concludes, “This is so dumb.”

Toothless, the Night Fury (and also his best friend - Hiccup doesn’t do things halfways), rumbles below in concern - for Hiccup’s sanity, probably.

“Don’t worry, bud,” he reaches forward to pat the dragon’s scaly head. “We’ll get there.”

Which, okay, sounds promising enough, but the last few weeks (years, really) has taught him that there’s the normal way to go around doing stuff, and there’s Hiccup’s way. So when the king, and also his father (not the best combination, but there had been worse - like Snotlout and spiced mutton last Snoggletog and the incident which they do not talk about) told him Hiccup’s time to embark on a journey to save a princess had come, he was, uh, sceptical.

All he had to do was travel through the seven valleys, seven rivers and seven mountain, defeat the dragon, save the princess. It was a nice, simple plan - he even had a bullet point list and all. His distant cousin, Prince Charming did it, so why couldn’t he?

Well…

So he got lost, maybe.

He got lost three time, maybe. But who’d keep a record of things like that? Except Snotlout, that is, but Snotlout is approximately seven mountain, seven hills and six rivers away. Unless he’s lurking. Hiccup looks around just in case - Snotlout likes to lurk.

Somewhere between the second and the third hill, though, Hiccup stumbled upon a town. Quite literally, too, because he managed to trip and fall over an old pig that laid itself in the middle of the road. Apparently the town, the name of which he had long forgotten, had a trouble with a pesky dragon and Hiccup, the smart person that he is, decided he could change up the order of his mission a little bit and slay the dragon first.

He befriended him, instead. Yes, him, not it.

Not that Hiccup would want it any other way. Toothless proved to be an amazing companion, a true friend through many trials along the way from there on, and Hiccup’s been… happy, just happy, and that’s something new and quite exciting, really.

So he didn’t find the princess’s home effortlessly, he didn’t slay any dragons. The castle (the right one this time), doesn’t look anything like the brochure either, but he shouldn’t be surprised. It’s a bit old and rusty but it has character, Hiccup can tell. No angry dragon has appeared so far and Hiccup’s glad. However much he thinks dragon training is a good gig, it’s also time-consuming and he’s already weeks behind on his imaginary schedule.

A single tower stands a little off to the side, looking innocent enough, and Hiccup nudges Toothless to bring him closer. He hangs off the saddle and jumps in, cursing at his knees; he could never stick the landing the right way. He dusts off his trousers and straightens up, only to pause.

So.

There’s a baby.

The spacious bed in the middle of the room looks comfortable enough, clean and with colorful cushions thrown casually over the blankets. And on one of the pillows, there sits a baby. To be fair, Hiccup doesn’t know a thing about children - the kid can be six or ten for all he knows. She (he thinks it’s a she?) raises her arms and a smile splits across her pudgy cheeks.

“Guhh.”

Um.

Because what.

Hiccup rubs his jaw. “Uh.”

The baby looks happy to continue their monosyllabic conversation but then there’s an arrow swishing through the air, right above Hiccup’s head, and Hiccup is pretty sure that’s not the baby’s doing. He yelps and brings his hands close to his chest. He’s ducking as another arrow flies in his general direction, and he finds himself awkwardly flailing his arms in the air to shield the baby perched on one of the soft-looking pillows - the baby that is very, very amused by the whole situation. At least they both don’t have much of a self-preservation instinct.

“Touch her and I will gauge your eyes out,” Hiccup stops at the words and briefly looks at the baby as though the baby - she, as he found out - could have said that. He then turns around a little, towards where the arrows came from. It’s not his best idea. Probably.

He can’t decide whether the girl at the doors is more stunning or furious, probably the latter though. She has a crossbow shamelessly aimed his way. There’s a smirk dancing on her lips somewhere there but it’s overshadowed by the furrowed brow and a daring look in her eyes.

“That is,” Hiccup starts, straightening himself, and the crossbow follows his every move. “That is a misunderstanding, ma’am, and I-”

“You broke into our home,” the girl says easily, finger on the trigger. “Tried to abduct my niece.”

Hiccup doesn’t need a lawyer to know this looks bad.

So he quickly shoves out his hands and takes a step back, closer to the window. “No! No, no, definitely not, uh, doing that,” he silently sighs in relief when he notices Toothless waiting for him outside the window. Just a few more steps, and he’s out of here, never coming back, if he’s lucky. “As I said, this is just, heh, a misund-yeuh-!”

There’s a dragon at the window, and it’s most definitely not Toothless. The Deadly Nadder pushes herself inside just as Hiccup stumbles backwards, hands searching for something to protect himself with and coming short.

“Stormfly,” the girls says from behind him. “Stand still, girl.”

That’s enough for Hiccup to whip his head around. He stares at the blonde with the crossbow, and points to the dragon in the room. “She’s yours?”

The girl quirks an unimpressed eyebrow. “She may not be a Night Fury, but she’ll take your head off in two seconds. If you’d like to test that out-”

The Nadder squawks in agreement from the other side of the room.

He has no idea what’s going on. This is so far off the script, he really doesn’t know what he should do at this point. Except for maybe find a rock he can live under for the rest of his miserable life.

This. This, right here, is his life in a nutshell.

“So,” the girl starts, the crossbow twitching in her hand. “Who the hell are you?”

That’s a chance if he’s ever seen one, he decides. He can do this, he practiced this.

“I’m Prince Hiccup from Berk,” Hiccup tries to puff out his chest but that just makes him feel so much more awkward and out of place, so he rubus his shoulder instead. “and I, uh, traveled seven mountains, seven hills and seven rivers to-”

“It’s the eighth river then, dumbass,” the blonde cuts him off with a roll of her eyes. She lowers the crossbow, and prompts it on her shoulder like it’s not one of the deadliest weapons known to men, including the dragon standing across her.

“I-huh?”

When all he gets in response is a tilt of her head, he swallows. “Lady Oswaldson?” His stomach sinks when she just shakes her head, fighting off an amused grin. He sighs and mumbles under his breath. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

“Don’t tell me you got lost,” She’s biting her lower lip now but he can see the corners of her mouth quirked upwards.

“Nu-no!” Hiccup protest immediately, trying to hold onto what is left of his dignity. Apparently not much because the girl doesn’t look like she believes him at all. “Maybe.” He hangs his head. “Yes.”

She snorts. Loudly.

“Bah!” the baby butts in and Hiccup almost has a heart attack.

“Sorry, sweety,” the girl rushes in towards her niece. She unceremoniously slams the crossbow on the bed and kneels down to the baby’s level, leaving Hiccup to his internal life crisis. She coos. “Everything alright?”

“A-t’d,” the baby replies and apparently that’s the right thing to say because the blonde beams up at her and ruffles the baby’s light brown curls. Satisfied, she straightens up and turns back to Hiccup.

“So,” she cocks her hip and places a confident hand on her side. “Do you need directions, or…?”

Hiccup doesn’t reply, eyes on the ground. It’s not that he’s not excited at the prospect of traveling another day or two, and finding a princess that probably doesn’t even want him, and one that he most definitely doesn’t want, and - yeah, maybe that’s exactly it. Huh. Who would’ve thought.

“You’re not really good at this, are you?” he can hear a soft squeak of the bed as the mattress dips where the girl sits down. “You kind of suck, actually.”

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting, and pretends he’s not behaving like a child. Or Snotlout on a good day.

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t,” she replies hotly and she’s rolling her eyes pointedly when Hiccup looks up at her. “What kind of bullshittery thinking is that?”

“My father-”

“Will understand?” she supplies with a raised eyebrow. “That maybe this is not what would make you happy? Not that I believe something like this could make anyone happy…”

He doesn’t like how much he likes what she’s saying and that’s, well, confusing for one. But also comforting, in a way he didn’t expect. She makes it seem so easy and effortless and he, well, he wants that - after so many weeks, he just want to not care, for once.

“Why don’t you take a break,” she suggests, nudging his arm with her elbow. Or maybe it’s the crossbow that is back in her hands. He’d like to believe it’s her elbow. “Just for today, and then you can decide whether you want to live in a cage or-”

“I don’t,” he replies quickly, and then immediately flushes because, wow, talk about desperate.

“Good. Then,” she stands up, crossbow indeed in her hands, and a glint of something in her blue eyes. “what about a walk? Get all that stuff in order in that too big head of yours.”

First of all - “Hey-!”

But then he grins because he’s pretty sure he just met the most amazing person in the kingdom, or maybe even the world, and he doesn’t know what else to do. So he grins a little wider.

“And I’d recommend that to be less niece-abduct-ary,” she adds, pulling up the crossbow. “Because, you know.”

“I-uhm, gah-!” is what escapes his mouth, more or less, and the girl laughs.

She shoves out her free hand, easily balancing the crossbow in her other one. He stares, amazed, because all he could ever do with a crossbow is fall over, and not even in an entertaining way. “Astrid.”

He stares at the hand, then at her.

Oh.

Right.

“Hiccup. The Third,” he stammers out, shaking her hand. “Prince. Haddock. I mean-”

“Just go,” and, just like that, she’s pushing him towards the staircase behind the doors. “Take the left turn at the first floor. You think you can do that for me?”

It takes him a second to realize what she’s implying. “Har-har, very funny.”

He’s halfway out the door when he pokes his head out again. “But Toothless-”

“Will stay with me and Stormfly,” Astrid tells him like it’s obvious and they didn’t just meet. Weirdly enough, he trusts her. Sure, a person, or two, or the entirety of Berk, might call Hiccup gullible at times, but this time he really does trust the girl in the tower.

He really hopes Toothless is not a pair of dragon boots by the time he’s back.

He isn’t, thank the gods.

He made quick friends with Stormfly, though, the traitor.

Hiccup huffs, pretend-annoyed, and slides a tentative hand down the Nadder’s baby blue snout. “You know, she really is beautiful.”

Astrid beams.

“So, wait, you tripped-”

“Who leaves a pig, unattended, on a busy street, Astrid?! Who?!”

“Oh my gods,” Astrid’s eyes widen and she stuffs her mouth with another cookie. “Those are amazing!”

Hiccup, with his mouth equally full, nods enthusiastically. “It’sh from a lady f’om the cashtle at sheven hillsh, sheven riv’rsh and shix mountainsh.”

“Ha!” at Hiccup’s wide eyes and astounded expression, Astrid chuckles, cheeks flushed pink just a little. She jabs his arm with a finger. “I knew it! I knew you’ve gotten lost before!”

Hiccup squints, slowly munching on the rest of his cookie. “Shut up, Ashtrid.”

She doesn’t.

He’s really, really glad she doesn’t.

Hope you enjoyed!

You wanna request a drabble thingy? Hit me up and I’ll do my best c:

[fruitful-blogger]

BITES of Spider Life! (Chapter 2)

Inspired by the BEAUTIFUL Sanders Sides/Spiderverse AU by @ask-spiderverse-virgil and @sugarglider9603!

Summary:

When you’re bitten by a genetically-altered and probably radioactive spider, things in life tend to get a little complicated. Follow Virgil Storm, Roman Marigold, Logan Quinn, Patton Foster, and a whole slew of other spider-people and spider-related people as they deal with life, love, and the occasional robot army trying to take over New York.

Just another Tuesday for our teenage Spiderlings.

(Fluff and Slices of Life!)

Read from the beginning (Ao3)

Chapter 2: It’s a Playdate (Ao3)

           “So you brought us with not to go to the ACTUAL meeting but to hang out with the other kids?” Virgil, as Spidergale, threw to Thomas, currently dressed as Rainbow Weaver. In fact, all of them where in their Spider gear as they swung onto the landing jutting out from Stark Towers, otherwise known as New York’s Avengers’ headquarters. “What is this? A playdate?”

           “Look SHIELD has some news, and you know I’ll give you guys the rundown on what’s important after. Mostly it’s just us getting nagged about property damage.” Thomas threw as he waved his hand.

           “I’m SO SORRY about that building last week!” Love Bite, aka Patton, threw, his lenses cocked as he looked so sad. Really, their masks were good with expressions.

           “Love Bite, you were THROWN INTO A BUILDING!” Arachne, aka Logan, threw. “They do NOT blame you for that!”

           “And if they did, they’d have to talk to these fists first!” Royal Slinger, the last of their quartet of Spiderlings, threw in an ever so Roman way.

           “And you sent a card to the building manager. They probably get it and have insurance for that.” Thomas assured as he rubbed Patton’s head, mushing his cap ever so slightly. “Now, yes, unfortunately some of the higher ups are a bit prickly about kids and meetings. Some of the other protégés occasionally come, and, as much as I love and appreciate you guys, I think you need more friends than just each other.”

           “I mean, maybe Logan and Virgil…” Roman trailed off before his boyfriend swatted him. “HEY! It’s true!”

           “ANYWAY!” Thomas cut in once more, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Just… don’t blow anything up. If there’s an emergency, the building is hooked up with an AI known as JARVIS. Our normal communications won’t work in the tower, but he’s been told to interrupt the meeting should something go awry.”

           Logan’s extra arms came out to hold out a small device. “Would you at least endeavor to record it? I feel like I can pick out things better from a first-hand reading.”

           “Sorry, kid, but that won’t work in here.” The Spiders turned as Tony Stark stepped out onto the veranda, band shirt and blazer perfectly matching his glasses that likely cost more than Thomas’ rent. “My tech will auto nuke it on entry, but if your nice, I might be swayed to share my personal logs.”

           “Isn’t that not allowed?” Patton questioned.

           A voice snorted behind Tony. It was now that the five noticed a second figure on the roof. The person, as opposed to Tony, was no older than his late teens, early twenties, with brown hair and clothes that would be more normally worn on one of the spiderlings in their alter egos – he wore washed out jeans, a Columbia t-shirt, and a plain navy hoodie, a Stark pad in one arm as a keycard was clipped to his side. “Tony hacked the system a while ago. JARVIS stores a copy on a local drive that only Tony and I can get a hold of.” The kid stepped forward and waved. “Oh, yeah, hi, I’m Peter.”

           Tony threw an arm around the kid. “Spider runts, meet Underoos – he’s one of the best scientists I got in this place. Give him a few years, and he might be as smart as me.”

           Peter blushed at the praise. “Aw, Mister Stark-”

           “Seriously, kid? I’ve known you for years. It’s TO-NY.” Tony turned to Thomas. “You remember the kid, right?”

           “Yeah, you gave me a bunch of vines to watch last time.” Thomas chuckled. “Still haven’t gotten through them all yet.”

           Peter nodded sagely. “Well, I’m the designated ‘person under 25’ today, so I’m gonna be taking you guys around the tower. Squirrel Girl and Ms. Marvel are already here, but I think most of the others are out on team missions or whatever.” Peter shrugged. “I’ll get the brief later.”

           “You have access to those systems?” Logan approached.

           “Eh… ‘Access’ is a relative term.” Peter waved his hands. “Now, ‘hacking,’ hacking is a better descriptor.”

           “I taught him well.” Tony said, ignoring Patton’s chide at how hacking wasn’t right. “Now, Weaver, we got a meeting to be fashionably late to. You know how old eyepatch gets.”

           “Yeah, yeah.” Thomas waved before turning to his kids. “Now, be good and listen to Peter. This should be a couple of hours, and, PLEASE, don’t blow anything up.”

           “No promises, boss man.” Virgil gave a salute.

           Thomas sighed as he followed Tony. With their enhanced hearing, the boys definitely heard Thomas muttering to the other man about ‘kids these days’ and ‘I love my boys but I want to strangle them’ and other normal terms of love.

           “So I kind of already know which of you is which.” Peter said as he pulled out four keycards from his pocket. “You guys are going to need these.”

           “Oh? Will they allow us entry into the building?” Logan questioned as he took one.

           Peter snorted. “JARVIS’ face recognition software is better than any keycard. We mostly use these as a bait and switch in case anyone tries to steal our stuff. Don’t tell anyone that, though. These cards just basically get you free snacks at the vending machines.”

           “SHOULD you be telling us this?” Virgil questioned, eye quirked. “I mean, you just met us.”

           “Call it my personal spider sense.” Peter shrugged. “I’m good at reading people, and you guys seem alright.” Peter didn’t add that he had top security clearance, up there with Tony and Pepper, and had run background checks on them all. He’d been a bit less prying then his mentor, though, and had JARVIS blur names and faces. He got the basics, though. Each spider kid was unique, around his age (a bit younger, actually), and were good in their own right. Heck, Love Bite stopped on random street corners to help school children and old people cross the road.

           Peter led the charge, and, of course, Logan was asking questions as they walked in. Logan was, by far, the smartest of the four, but Peter was surprising them by being a match for his intellect. Patton was startled by JARVIS greeting them when they walked in, but soon enough the AI and the teen were chatting up a storm. Roman, for all his gags at things like science and math, was actually quite good and intrigued by it, so he was looking all about with Virgil, pointing out things that looked cool and getting layman explanations of things from Peter.

           “So how does the whole… spider thing work?” Peter asked to the group as they passed a wall of armors. “Like, do you guys make your own web? Does it come out of…” He gestured to his behind.

           Virgil snorted as he nudged Logan. “Yeah, Arachne, does it come out down…” Spidergale found webbing over his mouth, courtesy of his best friend. Virgil let off a noise of protest as he scrambled at his mask to remove the muffle or move up the mask.

           “I myself, as well as Love Bite, have the ability to generate organic webbing from our wrists, but we tend to rely more on web shooters. Using organic webbing extensively can be draining and requires Love Bite and I to consume more calories when doing so.” Logan pulled off his glove and rolled down his sleeve slightly to reveal the device. “Weaver made the initial designs and prototypes. He also uses them. We’ve fit them with other devices in the mean time, like vocal communicator, tracking systems, and what not.”

           “I came up with the best kinds of snacks to deal with the hunger.” Love Bite nodded as he pulled out some wrapped cookies. “Want one?”

           Peter eyed the cookies. “Am I safe to eat one? I’m not superhuman.”

           “Oh! Wait…” Patton stuffed the cookies back into one pouch and pulled a new set from another. “These are just sugar cookies. We do a lot of patrolling, and snacks are important!”

           Roman pulled on Virgil’s mask, managing to dislodge the webbing. “Patton is a really good baker.” The emo noted as he leaned over to help Roman off the ground.

           Peter took the cookie before hesitantly taking a bite.

           His eyes blew wide.

           “I need, like, a million of these.” He said with great awe. “These are amazing. They’re awesome. Did you put something in this?”

           “Love and sugar, kiddo!” Patton confirmed before sticking a few cookies at each of them.

           “LB I’m not…” Virgil tried to say, but he found his mask jerked up slightly to reveal his mouth just as a cookie was stuffed in. It wasn’t even a regular one – it was one of the superhuman high protein high sugar ones Patton made.

           “Nope!” Patton chided. “Grandma told me that all you had was an apple today!”

           Virgil took a bite as he grabbed the cookie. “How did you know?”

           “She and all the other old ladies put me in their baking group chat.”

           Peter licked his fingers. “So the rumor is true? That you guys are Weaver’s kids?”

           The group snorted. “Yeah… that was a thing.” Roman smiled. “While Weaver is like the weird combination of dad and older brother, none of us are actually related. I mean, unless the spider venom changed our DNA and made us more related? Is that, like, a thing or just something in comics?”

           “The circumstances that gave us four our powers was similar to Weaver, but it was still separate. In short, we each were exposed to venomous chemicals of an altered spider that resulted in each of our power development.” Logan explained.

           “I arguably got the best powers.” Roman threw.

           The other spiders rolled their eyes.

           “We all have the same basic powers.” Virgil explained. “Wall sticking, enhanced strength, spider sense, etc. Arachne has a little less stick, so he uses his legs for extra grab. Also the web thing.” Virgil shot a web off into a corner.

           “We each have little cool powers, too! But they’re not really all there.” Patton explained. “Like I can pick up on surface thoughts of animals, but it comes and goes. Spidergale turned invisible once! That was really cool!”

           “Ro- uh, Royal Slinger blew out the speakers of our school’s speakers a few times.”

           “My voice is a beautiful weapon.”

           “Arachne’s also the fastest. Like, really fast.” The emo added last.

           Peter let off a whistle. “That’s pretty insane guys. I’d love me some super powers, but I think I’m stuck toying with armor in the mean time. Jar, don’t tell Mr. Stark about this, but I’m trying to compress an arc reactor to make it possible to charge a mobile suit of some sort.”

           “Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Parker.” JARVIS confirmed.

           “Just don’t jump into it feet first, dude.” Roman warned, wincing in memory of his first attempt at being a hero. Gods, his outfit was UG-LY back then. “You have, like, Iron Man to show you the ropes first. Rainbow Weaver has been the best in training us, and, even if I hate to admit it sometimes, we’d all be squished by now without him.”

           “Royal Slinger? Admitting he’s not immortal?” Spidergale joked.

           “A prince must know his limitations… so that he can overcome them!” The red spider defended.

           Peter thought about it before nodding. “I’ll think about it. Mr. Stark is a bit protective is all.”

           “And you think Weaver isn’t?” The emo threw before they all started sharing horror/hilarious stories about times Weaver had saved their asses in the most dad ways.

           They took an express elevator about 50 floors up before the doors opened, four spider senses going off at once as they hit the deck, grabbing Peter with them. A disk shot over them, bouncing off the interior of the elevator wall before Logan caught it with his legs. “Whoops! Sorry!” The five looked up to see a girl with a massive, stretched out form begin to shrink as JARVIS paused the practice. Off to another side, a girl with a squirrel ear headband and a massive squirrel tail waved, a number of little squirrels around her.

           “Hi Pete!” The animal girl waved. “Oh, hey! It’s the spider brigade! Hi!” The girl scampered over, one squirrel with a bow on her shoulder, a big grin on her face. She exhumed what the boys affectionately called ‘Patton energy.’ “So, I’m Squirrel Girl, this is Ms. Marvel, and this is Tippy-Toe!” She introduced in rapid succession.

           Patton leapt up. “Hello! I’m Love Bite, that’s Royal Slinger, this is Arachne, and this is Spidergale! Oh, and this is Peter!”

           “I know Peter!” Squirrel Girl replied.

           “Oh, sorry! Oh my gosh, your squirrels are SO CUTE! Can I pet them?”

           “Tippy-Toe loves petting!” As she said this, the squirrel on her shoulder leapt to Patton as the boy screeched in pure joy, gently petting the squirrel with pure adoration.

           Ms. Marvel made her way over as she picked up the disk with an enlarged hand. “We got bored and decided to goof off.”

           “That’s a mood.” Peter and Virgil said at the same time before looking at each other, grinning.

           “Ms. Marvel?” Roman asked, stepping forward. “Ok, so this might be a rumor, but I heard you can shapeshift.”

           “Mm-hm!” She said, setting down the disk and shifting into Royal Slinger. “I’m a polymorph!” She stated in her own voice before clearing her throat. “How do I look?” She struck a pose with Roman’s voice now.

           Virgil blinked between the two before turning to Logan. “Slap me. I’m having a nightmare.”

           “Hey!” Roman threw, but Ms. Marvel already shifted to appear like Spidergale. Roman was enamored. “You. You would be FANTASTIC in the school play! Can you act? Please say yes.”

           That was how Roman and Kamala were left, acting out favorite TV scenes and talking about superhero stuff (not, like, serious stuff but more ‘did you see Cyclops last week that outfit was HIDIOUS!’). Patton was currently covered in squirrels and designing crazy playgrounds off the walls with webbing.

           That left Peter, Virgil, and Logan.

           Peter turned to the two. “Wanna blow something up?”

           The two introverts shared a look.

           “Yes.”

           “Mr. Stark, Mr. Weaver.” JARVIS interrupted what Thomas was deciding was the most BORING meeting of his life. Seriously, they weren’t even covering whatever Doctor Doom or the Skrulls anymore but TAXES and PUBLIC IMAGE and BLAH BLAHDY BLAH! He was a wholesome gay hero he shouldn’t have to deal with taxes. This was some homophobic BS (as he kept telling himself, trying not to daydream too much about MJ or planning a new video and miss the whole meeting).

           “Hold up, Cabbage Patch.” Tony threw to the guy with ridiculously curly hair and a pressed suit on the screen. He was definitely a bureaucrat first and foremost. “What’s up, JAR?”

           “I would like to inform you that Protocol Baby Alarm has been triggered. It has also come to involve Mr. Weaver’s protégés, Spidergale and Arachne.” JARVIS intoned.

           “Well, shit, I guess I gotta deal with that.” Tony threw as he stood. “You don’t mind, Cap? Fury? Gotta make sure a civilian like my people are taken care of. Kinda serious.”

           Serious??? Weaver stood up, full of concern. “Wait, what’s the Baby Protocal? What happened?”

           “I’ll explain on the way.” Tony nodded as he easily walked out. Thomas abandoned his chair with little fanfare, worry and panic in his veins. His spider sense hadn’t gone off, and his gut (aka his ‘dad’ sense) hadn’t told him something was wrong. Tony walked quietly down the hall, humming something ACDC until they reached the elevator.

           Once the doors closed, Thomas felt like he was about to crawl out of his skin. “What’s the Baby Alarm? Tony, what happened? Are my kids ok?”

           Tony looked over before snorting. “JARVIS, pull me up a feed.”

           On the elevator doors, a holographic screen showed a room absolutely COVERED in spider web, the epicenter a mess of plastic, scorch marks, and more web. The camera panned to show Peter stuck to the floor, Logan trying to dislodge his legs from a wall, and Virgil… well, Virgil seemed to be stuck to the ceiling somehow. Soon, four other kids, including his missing spiders, ran in. Roman started laughing, even with the sound muted, and Patton began fussing over Logan.

           Then he got stuck.

           “Protocal Baby Alarm AKA Peter blew something up again, nothing’s actually broken, but now I have an excuse to leave a boring meeting.” Tony grinned as Thomas clutched his chest, his heart slowing. Everyone was alright.

           In so much trouble, but alright.

           “I TOLD them not to blow anything up!” Thomas threw.

           Tony laughed. “My kid’s a sweetie, but he can be a terrible influence.”

           “He seemed so innocent.”

           “Oh, he is.” Tony nodded as the door opened. “He gets the blow shit up bit from me. JARVIS? Can I get some blue prints on whatever they were doing? Or, hell, can we just get some bots to scrape them off?”

           Thomas cracked his neck as the biochemical components appeared on a holographic display that led them. At least he remembered enough of this gibboly goop from his chemical engineering degree. “Looks like they messed with the webbing formula… again.”

           “Again?”

           “Royal Slinger and Arachne can get very… creative with my original formula. Slinger always wants to make it gayer, and Arachne still hasn’t figured out how I get the coloring just right.”

           Tony laughed. Yeah, their kids would get along swell.

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Halloween is upon us!! I love these two so so much and with the last few weeks I’ve been having, I needed these two to brighten my life. Thank you guys so much for reading and commenting/reblogging. It means the world that you’re enjoying Rabastian as much as I am <3

tagged: @bullet-prooflove, @delia26, @ghostofachancewithyou, @whiterose2664, @blown-transistor, @esparza-army, @mikeydodds, @southern-magnolia

7. Halloween

Rafael sighed exasperatedly as he finally made it into his office, carelessly laying his briefcase on top of his desk. The last week had been nothing short of hell on earth; SVU had picked up Eddie on suspicion of rape, and the pandora’s box that had opened thereafter had left him feeling betrayed all over again.

The fallout from it all had only begun it seemed and judging by the vast amount of press that was outside Hogan Place waiting for him, it didn’t seem to be slowing down any time soon either. Alex had somehow topped himself by claiming that Rafael and a few choice others were setting him up to keep him from winning the election. It certainly didn’t take long for a leak from wherever to tip off reporters that Rafael and Alex had a history, which of course was followed by the insinuation that the timeliness of the information SVU had dug up was some kind of payback for something that had happened over twenty years ago.

As if Alex throwing both he and Eddie under the bus in order to try to save himself wasn’t enough, Yelina had turned her back on him, too.

The best parts of his days had been Sebastian’s company every morning and every night. Had it not been for the fact that he started and ended his day in such a peaceful presence, Rafael might’ve been in much worse shape.

Taking a long sip from his coffee, he settled into his seat just as a knock sounded from the door to his office. For a moment, he thought it could be the DA and he felt the muscles on his shoulders tighten as he placed his cup on his desk and slowly sat up.

“Come in,” he called out, letting out a silent breath when Liv walked in. “I suppose there’s very little chance that you’re here to deliver good news.”

“Relax, I just came to see how you were doing,” she answered with a disarming smile.

“I’ve been better,” he replied, bobbing his shoulders as he took up his coffee again.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “He was your friend--”

“--He was a lot of other things, too,” Rafael mumbled.

Despite the fact that he’d opened up to her when Eddie was first brought in, Rafael was still weary of forming a bond closer to friends than colleagues with Olivia. Part of the reason he’d had such an incredible record at the Brooklyn DA’s office had been due to his strict boundaries with the detectives that he worked with. His intentions when he’d moved to SVU in Manhattan was to keep the same boundaries in place. Up until the week before, it had worked perfectly, but after Eddie’s arrest, Rafael had needed to unload and Olivia had been a sympathetic ear. Still, he was cautious of letting it go any further than one colleague taking consideration with another.

She looked about to say something else, but seemed to think better of it and lowered her eyes.

If he were being honest, he didn’t really want to speak anymore on what had happened and he instead tried to think about his breakfast with Sebastian earlier that morning since it had been the best thing about the day thus far.

“Actually, I’m glad you stopped by. I was hoping I might ask for a favor.”

She arched a brow. “Name it.”

“Could you look into an old case for me?” he asked carefully.

“How old are we talking?”

“25 years..?” he replied.

“You thinking it might be tied to a current case?” she asked.

“No, this would be more a personal favor,” he answered.

She seemed somewhat pleased with his answer, one corner of her mouth quirking upward as her brow knitted. “Okay. You know the case number?”

“No...but I do have a name, Delilah Everette. She was shot on her way home from work,” he replied.

“Do you know where?”

He shook his head.

“I can run her name, see what shakes loose. Was it someone you knew?”

“Not exactly,” he said. She seemed to want him to say more and he cleared his throat as his fingers gently twisted his coffee cup on top of his desk.

“Barba, seriously? What’s with the cloak and dagger?” she asked playfully.

He sighed softly, eying the open door for a moment before he went and closed it and looked back at her. “I met someone.”

She looked surprised and for a moment, he was almost offended.

“You don’t have to look so surprised,” he quipped.

“I guess I just assumed you lived at the office,” she teased. “Is this...Delilah Everette, is it a relative?”

“Yes. The police never caught the man responsible. I thought maybe you could take a look, maybe find something the original investigators missed.”

“Yeah, I could try,” she replied, nodding her head.

“Thank you.”

“Sure,” she said, sliding her hands into her front pockets as she gave him a polite smile. “You know...after last week, everything you told me about Eddie and...and Alex and Yelina...I thought maybe our relationship had developed a little. It almost felt like...”

He knitted his brows, and even though he knew what she might’ve said, he still asked, “What?”

“Like we were friends,” she said, brown eyes trained on his green. “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who makes friends often, not because he can’t make any but because he won’t let himself be vulnerable to most people. I think you made an exception for me last week because you needed someone to understand, someone to be your friend. I was happy to be that for you because you’ve always been that for me and I just want you to know that I don’t take your trust lightly. You can talk to me.”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward briefly as he nodded once. He hadn’t expected for Olivia to be so intuned with him and realized that it was likely due to the fact that whether he had realized it sooner or not, they were in fact friends. And unlike Alex Muñoz, Rafael knew in his heart that Liv would never betray his trust. He couldn’t have explained the feeling if he tried and his cynical nature nagged at him that he needed to be careful to not confide too much in the detective despite his intuitions telling him that she had his back.

“Thank you,” he said.

Olivia nodded back. “I’ll look for Delilah Everette’s casefile and let you know if I find anything.”

“I appreciate it.” She began to walk to the door and he reached out to brush his fingers over the material of her sleeve. “Liv?” She looked back at him. “Thank you...for everything. My friend.”

Olivia smiled, nodding again. “You're mine too,” she whispered before playfully adding, “Happy Halloween.”

“You too.”

By the time he got out of the office just after six o’clock, trick-or-treating was already in full swing. He’d never seen so many children out all at once despite the cold that had come in just the week before. Even just outside Hogan Place, where the surrounding structures were all government buildings, kids dressed as vampires and princesses walked along the sidewalk, likely on their way to one of the parks on either side of the courthouse.

Rafael quickly decided to take an Uber to his neighborhood instead of taking the subway as he usually did--he could only imagine what kind of circus would’ve awaited him on the subway. Aside from avoiding children in costume, the clouds in the sky gave indication of oncoming rain and there was nothing worse than a muddy, old train station on a night when kids ran freely. His suit would have most definitely not survived a train ride to Greenwich Village.

Sebastian hadn’t asked him to bring anything, but still Rafael was used to never showing up to someone’s home empty handed. He’d stopped at his apartment and changed into more comfortable clothes and rifled through his kitchen cabinets until he’d found a bag of unmade popcorn and walked down the street to Sebastian’s building. A light sprinkle of rain had already begun to fall and Rafael quickened his stride in order to beat the possible storm that was approaching.

He let out a breath as he went in through the door beside the bar entrance and climbed the narrow staircase to the lone apartment. Knocking on the door, the ADA shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he waited for an answer. It wasn’t long before the door opened, revealing Sebastian in jeans that hugged him just right and a black tshirt.

“Hi,” the pianist said, stepping aside to let the lawyer cross over the threshold. “You look amazing.”

Blue eyes looked over him appreciatively, causing Rafael to blush as a heat quickly rose on the back of his neck and he felt his nipples harden beneath his dark blue button down.

“So do you,” he replied, smirking as he leaned in and dropped a chaste kiss on the pianist’s lips.

“So I was thinking pizza,” Sebastian said. “And I thought I’d leave the movie for you to pick. Took out all my scary ones just for you.”

“Oh, how thoughtful,” Rafael replied with a smirk as Sebastian helped him out of his jacket. “I brought popcorn.”

“I like it,” Sebastian said in a chuckle. “Dessert?”

“A salty, buttery dessert,” Rafael mused with a smirk. “That’s new.” He handed the square packet over and stepped further into the apartment. “Wow,” he said, looking at all the movies stacked on the coffee table. There must’ve been at least forty of them, spanning over thirty years. “So is it safe to say you love horror movies?”

“I love movies in general,” Sebastian answered as he walked past Rafael to cross the living room and go into the kitchen. “Beer?”

“Yes, please,” the ADA answered as he picked up The Shining and flipped it over to look at the back of the cover. “This movie terrified me when I first saw it.”

“Yeah, me too. Still does,” Sebastian said as he came back into the living room and handed Rafael one of the bottles in his hands. “You know it’s actually based on a real experience Stephen King had?”

“I thought I read that somewhere,” Rafael replied, looking back at the musician and tipping his bottle so that the neck clinked with the one Sebastian held. “Misery, too, right? Real experience?”

“Not as extreme, but yeah, it actually happened to him,” the pianist answered.

Another DVD caught Rafael’s eye and he snorted as he picked it up. “Not exactly scary.”

“Please, Hocus Pocus is, like, the classic Halloween movie,” Sebastian replied with a grin. “It’s got Bette Midler, witches and a talking cat, what else could you want?”

“You sold me with Bette Midler,” Rafael said, setting down The Shining and handing the other DVD to the musician.

“What do you like on your pizza?” Sebastian asked as he loaded the DVD.

“Mushrooms and pepperoni.”

“Eik, so maybe we’ll do a pepperoni and half with mushrooms,” Sebastian replied.

“You don’t like mushrooms?” Rafael asked.

“Nah, I don’t dig on fungi,” Sebastian said. “Pepperoni is good though.”

The ADA chuckled as he sat on the couch. “Fungi?”

“That’s what it is,” Sebastian answered with a grin as he bobbed his shoulders.

“Fair, but they happen to be good for you.”

“On pizza, huh?” Sebastian replied as he took up a stack of menus on the coffee table and flipped through them.

“Touche,” Rafael mumbled with the smirk still on his face.

“I still like ya,” Sebastian teased with a wink as he pulled out his phone and called the pizza place two blocks down.

Rafael took a moment to glance around the musician’s apartment and noticed what looked to be a guitar stand sitting by the window, though there was no guitar. He found himself wondering where the guitar was when Sebastian hung up the phone and looked over at him.

“Forty minutes,” he said, putting his phone down on the coffee table. “I guess pizza is more popular on Halloween than I thought.”

“That’s alright,” Rafael replied, turning his head to gesture to the guitar stand with his chin. “Didn’t realize you play guitar too.”

“Oh yeah,” the musician answered. “I don’t know if I’d say I play guitar, but I dabble a little.”

“I’d love to hear you play sometime.”

“Maybe, sometime,” Sebastian replied. “I never asked, you play anything?”

“Me? No,” Rafael answered. “I’m more of a crosswords guy. New York Times, they usually have the best ones.”

“Must be why you’re so good with words,” Sebastian said, earning a grin from the ADA. “I’m glad you decided to come over.”

“So am I,” Rafael answered. “Though I am a little curious as to what you usually do for Halloween.”

Sebastian bobbed his shoulders. “Last couple years I went to my buddy, Casper’s place. Dressed up, watched movies, hung out.”

“I see...so why no costume this year?”

“You want me in a costume? I can take care of that right now,” Sebastian replied, smiling as he stood and looked around his living room.

He reached for a red blanket that had been carelessly tossed in a bean bag chair in the corner of the room and hung it over his shoulders. Stepping to the bookshelf beside the window that faced the street, he gently flicked through the contents of a small tin on one of the shelves until he found a safety pin and used it to secure the blanket around his neck. Turning and holding his hands out, he grinned in triumph at the ADA.

“There, I’m a superhero,” he said.

Rafael laughed as he stood and walked up to the slightly shorter hand, straightening either side of his makeshift cape, pulling either side securely around the pianist’s shoulders. “I would’ve guessed Prince Charming.”

Sebastian grinned bashfully as the light tapping on the window by the piano became a pitter-patter of thick, heavy raindrops. Faint shrieks of surprise echoed from street level, and still all Rafael could see in that moment was Sebastian.

He could smell the other man’s soap, the same hint of cedar that had ingrained itself in his memory from the first time the musician had kissed him and Rafael found himself taking a small step closer. Eyes falling to Sebastian’s lips, the ADA let his fingers loosen until they released their hold on the blanket and grazed over the pianist’s broad chest. A barely visible shudder fell over Sebastian’s frame and his hands moved to grasp Rafael’s waist as he closed the space between them. Humming as Sebastian’s pout pressed against his, Rafael curled his own arms around the other man, one hand flattening against his back while the other took a fistful of soft, dark-blonde hair.

A tingle of what felt like the most gentle electricity traveled from his lips to his groin as he tilted his head to deepen their kiss. He groaned against Sebastian’s lips when he felt the pianist’s hands slide down to his hips and carefully squeeze, pulling him even closer. The skin beneath his shirt grew hot, aching to be touched and his heart felt as though it would burst through his ribs at any moment. A movement over his shaft caused a rush of blood to the area and Rafael groaned as his tongue slid along the musician’s wantonly. He took a step back when the pianist stepped forward until the backs of his calves met the edge of the couch.

The hand in Sebastian’s hair slid down his chest, over his stomach, inching towards his belt. When his fingers reached the hem of the musician’s tshirt, Rafael slipped them under the fabric to trail over the heated skin beneath. A moan vibrated against Rafael’s lips as Sebastian’s hands grasped his hips, gathering the material of his shirt and tugging until it was untucked from his jeans. He felt the gentle pulls of his shirt being unbuttoned and the cool air that hit his lower belly with each fasten that Sebastian loosened.

Rafael slid his hand further beneath the hem of the musician’s tshirt and stroked over the shorter man’s hairy belly. Moaning as Sebastian trailed kisses over his jawline and down the length of his neck, Rafael began to push the musician’s tshirt up when a loud crackle of thunder caused the two men to jolt in place. Their eyes met as they both panted softly, chests steadily moving up and down.

Before either could say or do anything, a sharp buzz cut through the air as the lights went out, leaving them with only the lightning and street lamps outside to illuminate the apartment.

“Well shit,” he heard Sebastian mumble. Rafael couldn’t help the chortle that passed through his lips. “I think I might have at least one candle around here somewhere.”

“You need help looking for it?” Rafael asked as the musician took up his phone and turned on the flashlight on the device.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure I know where it is, I’ll just be sec,” Sebastian answered.

“Okay. Where’s your bathroom?”

“It’s that first door in the hall. You gonna be okay without--” Sebastian’s inquiry was cut short when the ADA produced his own cell phone and turned on the flash.

“I’ll be fine,” Rafael answered with a smirk before he walked to the restroom. As he closed the door to the bathroom, he let out a breath and set his phone on the vanity before going to relieve himself.

His heart still pounded mercilessly in his chest and his lips burned from he and the pianists kissing as he shook off his semi erect penis and tucked it back into his jeans. Moving to the sink after he flushed, he turned on the water and splashed some over his face, effectively cooling the heated skin, before he washed his hands and fastened the unbuttoned bottom half of his shirt.

Despite his urge to go back into the living room and bend over Sebastian’s piano, the reality was that they’d never had a conversation about sex and Rafael knew that before they went any further, that talk would have to take place. Still, he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for that conversation just yet. It had been so long since he’d been with anyone or even felt interested in anyone beyond admiring them from a distance. The idea of getting close, of being so painfully vulnerable to someone was still something that made him nervous.

Picking up his phone, he walked out of the bathroom and found Sebastian had lit a large, four-wick candle that was now situated on the center of the coffee table.

“I just got off the phone with Joe--he owns the building--said he’s working on getting the power back on, but it could be a little while,” the musician said. “These old buildings, you know? Fused blow all the time.”

“That’s okay,” Rafael answered as he sat down beside the pianist on the couch. “It’s kinda fitting for Halloween night, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it definitely makes it a little spookier. Doesn’t sound like the rain’s gonna let up any time soon either,” Sebastian answered, looking over at Rafael and biting his bottom lip.

Rafael could feel a stir in his belly as the musician carefully slid closer to him and draped an arm over the back of the couch. He opened his mouth and looked about to say something when a knock sounded at the door and Sebastian sighed. He stood and answered it, paying for their pizza before he came back to join Rafael on the couch again.

For a moment, the two were silent and Rafael gently cleared his throat.

“So, I think we should talk about what happened before the power went out,” he said

“Yeah, that, uh...that kiss was really…” He watched as Sebastian searched for an adequate word to complete his statement and Rafael subconsciously licked his lips.

“Yes, it was,” he said, admiring the way the candle light fell over Sebastian’s face. “I want you.”

Sebastian’s chest expanded as he inhaled deeply and let the breath out. “I want you, too.”

“But it’s been awhile since I’ve had any kind of intimacy and I think, maybe we should just wait until...you know, we’re both ready,” Rafael replied.

“That’s the thing, I don’t really uh…” The pianist chuckled nervously and swallowed. “I can’t...ever really tell…”

“What do you mean?”

“Uh, let’s see how do I put this?” Sebastian mumbled to himself as he turned his head to look at the TV as though he would find the answer there. After a moment, he turned back to Rafael. “Okay. So...I was seeing this guy a few years back. Nothing serious, but I liked him and we pretty much slept together right away, right after the second date. I thought maybe we might’ve been exclusive, but he, I guess, didn’t think the same. He just wanted to have fun, which is fine, but it’s not what I wanted, you know? Then a couple years later, I met another guy and I figured, since having sex so quick didn’t pan out the first time, I figured I’d get to know him first.”

“That seems logical,” Rafael offered.

“That’s what I thought,” the musician answered with a somber smirk. “He told me he was looking for something serious, so I took him at his word.”

“But he wasn’t?”

Sebastian sighed. “No. We were uh...we were sharing a cab, on our way back from a date and he…” He took a deep breath. “He lived closer to the place we were coming from so, I gave the cab driver his address. We’d been seeing each for a little while by then and I figured, maybe it was time we took things to the next level...I didn’t tell him that, I just told the cab driver to go to his place. Anyway, right after I give the address, he says ‘Oh, I’m not going home yet. I’m gonna hit up Splash.’ Splash is a--”

“--The gay bar, yeah, I’ve been before. A long time ago, but I know the place. Why was he going to a gay bar if he was seeing you?”

“That’s what I said,” Sebastian answered. “And he said, ‘Well, I like you and all, but I’m horny, I wanna fuck.’ Needless to say, that was the end of that...and I haven’t dated since. So after both those experiences, I never know when the right time is to take that step. If it’s too soon, I risk that the relationship is built on something physical, which eventually won’t be enough for any kind of longevity. But if I wait too long, I risk that either the guy will get bored before we get there or that the sex will be terrible, in which case we’ll both have wasted our time.” He carefully turned in his seat to better face Rafael. “And the thing is I really like you a lot. So, I wanna do this right. You know, whatever’s right for us. I just don’t know what that is.” He chuckled and rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m broken.”

“You’re not broken,” Rafael whispered as another strike of lightning illuminated the candle-lit apartment. “And I like you a lot too. I really like spending time with you, even when it’s just coffee in the morning or a nightcap and a short walk to my building. And I’ll admit that sex has entered my mind, but...I want it to be right for us too. And I think we’ll know when the time is right for us to take that step.”

Sebastian smiled. “Think so?”

“I do,” Rafael answered, smiling back as he nodded. “I have a pretty bad history with relationships, too. I fell in love with one of my closest friends when I was a kid. Alex. I thought about telling him how I felt but I never did. Looking back though, I think part of him always knew in a way… Anyway, we got older and then I started to have feelings for this girl, Yelina, that we went to school with. I finally got to courage to ask her out and she accepted. I was so crazy about her and I even convinced myself that we would get married someday, have a family. After a few months of us dating, I noticed that she was spending more time with Alex.”

“Alex...you’re first love,” Sebastian said, gently squeezing the ADA’s hand in a form of comfort.

Rafael nodded and whispered, “Yes.”

He bit his lip as the memories came flooding back, the pain so vivid that it was as if he was right back in that place in time. A sting on his nose threatened to bring the long forgotten pain to the surface and he inhaled slowly, pushing the ache down into the depths of his subconscious.

“Pretty soon she only wanted to go out if Alex was going, and a few weeks after, she dumped me and started dating Alex. They’re married now...they have kids,” he said. “But I hadn’t seen them in years up until last week and judging from what happened it doesn’t look like I’ll see them again for a very long time, so at least there’s that.”

“Wait Alex...as in Alex Muñoz, the guy was running for mayor?” Rafael nodded. “I saw him on the news the other day. Sound like a couple of idiots, those two,” Sebastian replied. “They’d have to be to not see how lucky they were to have your attention.”

Rafael smirked sadly. “I had a couple of relationships in college but by the time I got to law school, I just kinda gave up on romance. And I was so busy that I never really noticed it’s absence...until I met you.”

Grinning at the ADA, Sebastian rocked forward in his seat to drop a brief kiss on the prosecutor’s lips. “I’m glad I met you too.”

There was a buzz that sounded just before the light flickered on again and Sebastian chuckled softly. “Well...why don’t we eat some pizza and settle in for Bette Midler. Then later we can pop that popcorn, scare ourselves with a little Nicholson. Sound good? Fun Halloween?”

“I would love that,” Rafael answered as the corner of his lips curled upward.

Sebastian opened the pizza box and held a hand up. “After you, please. Plates?”

“I think we can manage,” the ADA replied, still smirking as he tore a piece of pizza from the pie and took a bite. “So, does she sing in the movie?” he asked as Sebastian turned on the TV and started the DVD.

“Does she sing in the movie,” Sebastian repeated in a chortle before playfully adding, “Come on, it’s Bette Midler.”

“You know now I fully expect a big, diva performance,” Rafael teased.

“Oh, you’ll get it. I have this song on a playlist.”

“Interesting, what do you call this playlist?” Rafael asked.

“Pretty sure it’s just called Queens,” Sebastian answered, earning a hearty laugh from the ADA.

“I like it,” Rafael replied.

Sebastian grinned. “Oh good. How’s your pizza?”

“Delicious. Yours? Fungi-free?”

It was the musician’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, it’s good,” he answered as they both settled comfortably against the couch and placed their attention on the movie.

[spacedemodulator]

Replying to "40 Queen Asks" by @sail-away-sweet-shishter

(Edited to improve formatting.)

1. Favorite Member of the band?

Can't you see that it's impossible to choose? But, uh, Rogerina is stunning.

2. Favorite album?

Whichever one I last listened to? Sometimes I think it's The Game or A Night at the Opera, but these days I often find myself turning to Sheer Heart Attack or Queen II or Jazz when I'm in the mood for some Queen. Just because I didn't listen to them *quite* as much back when I was a kid.

3. Least Favorite album?

Hm. Probably The Miracle, just because an album that begins with "Party" and "Khashoggi's Ship" feels like it takes a while to get good. But it's still good. (That's the thing about Queen: even if there's something I don't like as much as I wish I did, it's still kind of interesting.)

4. Favorite song(s)?

How much time do we have? "Save Me," "The Show Must Go On," "March of the Black Queen," "Tenement Funster," "Another One Bites the Dust," "I Want to Break Free," "I'm in Love with My Car," "Death on Two Legs" ... (takes deep breath) ... "The Invisible Man," "Staying Power," "Keep Yourself Alive," "Under Pressure," "Teo Torriate," "Flash," "Killer Queen," "Father to Son," "Flick of the Wrist," "'39," "Sleeping on the Sidewalk," "Love of My Life" ..... you get the idea.

And some rhapsody thing for bohemian types, you probably haven't heard about it.

5. Least Favorite song(s)?

"Jesus," because wait, what ... really?

"White Man," but I feel like I have to explain. I like the sentiment of the song: anti-racist, anti-colonialist, etc. That's great. But when I listen to the melody and rhythm, I feel like the song undermines itself by being based on the racist caricatures of Native American culture we see in old Hollywood westerns. And since the song doesn't have an ounce of irony or humor, the net effect of this contradiction is jarring and unpleasant.

But I almost never skip the track because hey, at least it's Queen.

6. Favorite era?

Pre- to early Munich

7. Favorite Freddie Mercury outfit?

70's Wings and kimono.

8. Favorite Brian May outfit?

Wembley style.

9. Favorite Roger Taylor outfit?

Rogerina OR cranky-old-man Roger in a nice suit.

10. Favorite John Deacon outfit?

From the video for Another One Bites the Dust.

Or...

When he's at a wild party wearing a cardigan in the background while Freddie is signing the buttcheeks of a naked exotic dancer.

11. Favorite Queen Story?

"Mister Ferocious."

Or...

How Queen blew away Live Aid by turning up their amps and, you know, rehearsing.

12. Do you own any Queen merchandise?

I think I have a bicycle jersey in a box somewhere that has the Flash Gordon logo.

And this isn't really Queen merchandise, but I have one of Brian's stereoscopic collections of the planets. I won it in a contest through Astronomy Magazine.

13. Do you own any Queen Vinyls?

The ones I bought as a kid are in a box in my parents' attic (if they've even survived). Now I just have the CDs.

14. Favorite Full band picture?

The outtake from the photo session for the Sheer Heart Attack cover where Brian, Roger, and John are laughing hysterically while Freddie is clearly trying his hardest not to lose it.

15. Favorite single picture of each band member?

The record sleeve that came with the Flash Gordon vinyl album with the lightning bolts between the individual pictures. Those are all great shots.

16. Favorite Music Video?

Does the movie Flash Gordon count?

Otherwise: "I Want to Break Free," or maybe "I'm Going Slightly Mad."

17. FMK Rogerina, Fredrika, or Brianna?

That is the correct order, yes.

18. Have you ever cried listening to Queen?

"Save Me," and "Teo Torriate" both get to me at times.

19. Last Queen song you heard on the radio?

"Crazy Little Thing Called Love"

20. Are you excited for Bohemian Rhapsody?

Oh my, darling. Yes.

21. Are you listening to Queen right now?

Uh...no. What the fuck is wrong with me?

22. What was the last Queen song you heard in general?

"Back Chat," from Queen On Fire: Live at the Bowl. In my car a few hours ago.

23. Has anything Queen related happened in School or at work?

Right before I went to college Highlander came out and quickly turned into a cult classic on VHS, so my college years were full of opportunities to introduce the rest of Queen to fellow students who'd just discovered that movie.

24. Do you have any IRL friends who are big Queen fans?

Yes, but I don't think any of them would bother to answer a survey on Tumblr.

25. Who introduced Queen to you?

My best friend when I was 10 years old.

26. Funniest Queen song?

Ogre Battle. Bring Back That Leroy Brown. Don't Try Suicide. Seaside Rendezvous. Death on Two Legs.

27. Which song do you listen to just for that part?

I'll sometimes listen to the Flash Gordon album and literally vibrate and giggle in anticipation for the whole battle sequence on side two that has Brian Blessed and the wedding march and "The Hero" and all that craziness.

28. Have you ever seen Queen live?

Sadly no.

29. Favorite Sassy Freddie story?

Kicking out his faithless boyfriend but keeping his cat.

30. Favorite Live performance?

It's a toss-up between Queen Rock Montreal and Live at Wembley Stadium. But there are other live recordings I haven't heard yet.

31. Have you recommended Queen to anyone?

Of course!

32. When did you discover Queen?

In 1980 I was 10 years old and my friend Keith got The Game on cassette. We wore that thing out. And then Flash Gordon came out, and I pestered my parents for the soundtrack. And then my uncle got me Queen's Greatest Hits on vinyl for Christmas. (And then, and then....)

More truth: at that time my family was living in a west Texas oil town and the only music I listed to was country-western on the radio and my parents' folk song albums. (And Star Wars.)

What I'm saying is, Freddie Mercury basically saved my ass from Conway Twitty.

33. Favorite Fan art? (make sure to give credit to the original creator!)

Definitely this art by @dungeonpeaches

34. If you could go back in time and meet one member of the band, who would you choose?

I don't really want to. I think I'd bore them all to death.

Unless...can I go back and witness Freddie's first trip to Japan? I'll carry his shopping bags.

35. Do you like Jimercury?

Awww, Jim.

36. Funniest post on Brians instagram?

Nothing jumps out at me, but he's probably stereoscopically fondling a hedgehog.

37. Black Nail polish for Freddie or White Nail polish for Brian?

Black on Freddie.

38. Which band member do you think would be mostly likely to have a tumblr?

Well Brian has had a blog for many years and an Instagram for quite a while, so I guess it would have to be Brian.

39. But how do you really feel about ‘im in love with my car’ ?

When my hand's on your grease gun, it's like a disease, son.

40. What song really hits you right in the feels?

The Show Must Go On. Teo Torriate. Too Much Love Will Kill You. Save Me. Loser in the End.

[itspeytlennon]

a playlist about a pink-haired boy who fell in love with the boy who was blue

@evan-rg-jr 

1. Just Friends by Virginia to Vegas

“So why don’t we go out and get a drink in the west end/ Smoke a cigarette and talk shit about exes/ Take couples shots and see where the night ends/ Stop pretending like we’re friends.”

2. Jealous by Lennon Stella

“Somebody told me that you think/ I’m tryna make you jealous, jealous/I do better things with my time/ Than tryna make you jealous, jealous/Why can’t we move on with our lives.” 

3. Lover by Taylor Swift

“Ladies and gentlemen will you please stand/ with every guitar string scar on my hand/ I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover/ My heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue/ All’s well that ends well to end up with you/ Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover/And you’ll save all your dirtiest jokes for me/ And at every table I’ll save you a seat, lover.”

4. Let’s Fall in Love for the Night by FINNEAS

“I love it when you talk that nerdy shit/ We’re in our twenties talking thirties shit/ We’re making money but we’re saving it/ ‘Cause talking shit is cheap and we talk a lot of it.” 

5. Adore You by Harry Styles

“I’d walk through fire for you/ Just let me adore you/ Oh, honey/ I’d walk through fire for you/ Just let me adore you/Like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do.”

6. Stuck With U by Justin Bieber ft. Ariana Grande

“So lock the door/ And throw out the key/ Can’t fight this no more/ It’s just you and me/ And there’s nothing I, nothing I, I can do/ I’m stuck with you, stuck with you, stuck with you.”

7. To Build a Home by Cinematic Orchestra

“There is a house built out of stone/ Wooden floors walls and window sills/Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust/This is a place where I don’t feel alone/This is a place where I feel alone.”

8. Honey In the Summer by PUBLIC

“Top down, sunshine/ Part of one inside my ride/ Solo kinda guy, all i got is 4-wheel drive/ highway, date night, record from 1979/ Right turn, green light, ‘Long as I got my ride or die.”

9. Sunflower Vol. 6 by Harry Styles

“ Sunflowers/Sometimes/Keep it sweet in your memory/ I was just tongue-tied/And I don’t wanna make you feel bad/ But I’ve been trying hard not to talk to you/ My sunflower.”

10. Daisies by Katy Perry

“They told me I as out there/ Tried to knock me down/ Took those sticks and stones/ Showed them I could build a house/ They tell me that I’m crazy/ But I’ll never let them change me/ ‘Til the cover me in daisies/ Daisies, daisies.” 

11.Five More Minutes by Jonas Brothers

“Give me five more minutes/ Baby, I’m not finished loving you/ I don’t wanna end it when we’re only just beginning/ Give me five more minutes, ooh yeah.” 

12. Adrenaline by Lauv

“Remembering all those nights/ With your body straight to the sky/ You work me until the morning/ Fall asleep half past nine (A.M.)/ So crazy in love/ Enough was never enough/ Tell me our touch ain’t dull now/ (Tell me our touch ain’t dull now).”

13. Rollercoaster by Jonas Brothers

“It was fun when we were young and now we’re older/ Those Days when we were broke in California/ We were up-and-down and barely made it oer/ But I’d go back and ride that rollercoaster with you.” 

14. If You Ever Want To Be in Love by James Bay

“Wanted to ask if we could have been/ But my tongue wouldn’t break the seal/ You always had something effortless/ At school you were the biggest deal/ Little uirks close and open up/ Time is slipping by/ I’m always thinking ‘bout the two of us/ Replay on my mind/ Always on my mind.” 

15. Tattoos Together by Lauv

“Let’s get tattoos together, something to remember/ If it’s way too soon, fuck it, whateer/ Give me shapes and letters, if it’s not forever/ Then at least we’ll have tattoos together.”

16.Plum by Troye Sivan

“Watching you sleep/ Run my hands through your hair and it’s got me thinking/ What you mean to me/ There’s a chill in the air and a sinking feeling/ Coming over me/ Like bitter tangerine/ Like sirens/ Oh,no.” 

17. Check Yes Juliet by We the Kings

“Check yes Juliet/ I’ll be waiting/ Wishing, wanting/ Yours for the taking/ Just sneak out/ And don’t tell a soul goodbye/ Check yes, Juliet/ Here’s the countdown/ Three, two, one, now fall in my arms/ Now they can change the locks/ Don’t let them change your mind.” 

18. My My My! by Troye Sivan

“Spark up, buzz cut/ I've got my tongue between your teeth/ Go slow, no, no, go fast /You like it just as much as me.”

19. The Sound by The 1975

“You're so conceited, I/ Said "I love you" / What does it matter if I lie to you?/ I don't regret it but I'm glad that we're through/ So don't you tell me that you 'just don't get it'/  'Cause I know you do.”

20. Lucky Strike by Troye Sivan

“And my boy like a queen/ Unlike one you've ever seen/ He knows how to love me better/ A hit of dopamine, higher than I've ever been/ He knows how to love me better'Cause you're safe like spring time/ Short days, long nights, boy/ Tell me all the ways to love you 'Cause you taste like Lucky Strikes/ You drag, I light, boy.”

21. Mean It by Lauv ft. LANY

“Don’t kiss me right now/Don’t tell me that you need me/ Don’t show up at my house/ All caught up in your feelings/ Don’t run me round and round/ Don’t build me up just to let me/ Down, just to let me/ Down, down, down.”

22. Golden by Harry Styles

Golden, golden, golden/ As I open my eyes/ Hold it, focus, hoping/ Take me back to the light/ I know you were way too bright for me/ I'm hopeless, broken /So you wait for me in the sky/ Browns my skin just right.”

23. Right Where You Want Me by Jesse McCartney

“I’m gonna let you have your way with me /But when you move like that it's hard to breathe/ I never thought that it could be like this, but I was wrong/ Baby, don't be gentle, I can handle anything/ Baby, take me on a journey, I've been thinkin' lately/ I could use a little time alone with you /Crazy, let's do something maybe, please don't take your time/ You got me right where you want me.”

24. Take Me to Church by Hozier

“If I'm a pagan of the good times/ My lover's the sunlight/ To keep the Goddess on my side/ She demands a sacrifice/ Drain the whole sea/ Get something shiny/ Something meaty for the main course/ That's a fine looking high horse /What you got in the stable?/ We've a lot of starving faithful/ That looks tasty/ That looks plenty/ This is hungry workTake me to church.”

25. September Told Me by JUICE

“The summer is fading/ And my heart is breaking/ ‘Cause soon we’ll say goodbye/ So get in the car/ Baby bring your guitar/ And we’ll chase the moon tonight/ And I wanna breathe you in/ The air up here so thing/ Your waist, those lips, that face/ Girl I really like this view/ Damn I wasn’t ready/ Didn’t think she’d get me/ Now I wear this heart on my sleeve/ Barefoot in the summer/ Didn’t think I loved her/ Until September told me to leave.” 

[neverisalongtime-ja-blog]

Chapter 36: The video

I’m so so sorry for not posting yesterday. The amount of work I had was insane! But here it is: Chapter 36!

I wanna let you all know that I’m gonna be traveling next week so is very possible that I wont post next week. Sorry for that! I’ll still active on Instagram, tho. 

Hope you all enjoy this chapter ‘cuz I loved it!

Remember to check Anastasia’s Instagram that is on fire:

Anastasia_Truman  ❤️️

Thanks to everyone who reads the fic, much love to you all! ♥

That Thursday she woke up early and full of energy, she was living a dream. She asked Mandy to come with her but the pink haired girl preferred to stay in Los Angeles with Peyton, An understood her and didn’t get mad about it; at least Mark was going to make her company and he was taking Stephanie with him. She was nervous, she didn’t know why, she had met some of the greatest names in music before: Bowie used to read with her when she was little, McCartney was always there on Christmas at her father’s house to party, even Elton John says she is his niece, but this was different, she was going to meet her lifetime crush.

-          This is weird! – She said to Mark at the lobby of the Palms Hotel in Las Vegas – A hotel room just for me… Alone!

-          You have been in hotel rooms alone before – Mark said to her taking the elevator.

-          Not in the last year – She answered – I stayed with either Mandy or Josh, never alone.

-          How is the Josh thing going? – Stephanie had to ask.

-          He is in Los Angeles with his girlfriend and I’m here to meet my longtime crush and to get drunk with you – She said clapping hands with Stephanie.

-          I don’t agree with the last part – Mark said as the elevator doors opened at their floor. The penthouse – You have two hours to get ready and then we’ll meet at Nove for dinner with Richard.

-          Thank God I packed my good dresses.

An could see the entire city from her room, it was almost nighttime and the lights from the casinos and hotels were starting to shine. Las Vegas was an amazing city; it was an escape for her and her LA friends when they were in high school. She had a bath, put on a short black deep neckline loose dress with a dark blue velvet bralette underneath and killer black stiletto heels (with red soles, of course). She met Mark and Steph, who was glowing in a silver long sleeve dress, and took the elevator together to the restaurant. Nove was located at the top of the Fantasy Tower in the hotel and it mainly served Italian food. They walked into the fine decoration and to a table, next to a giant picture window where they had a panoramic view of Las Vegas. There was Richard Austin, looking as dapper as he could with a pair of black skinny jeans, a black t-shirt and a leather jacket, his hair was combed back and his brown eyes were shining with the help of the restaurant’s lighting.  He got up from his chair to receive them.

-          Hey! – He said stretching Mark’s hand – I’m glad you all made it!

-          Yes. We’d never say no to a trip to Vegas – Mark said  – This is my fiancée Stephanie – He introduce her with such pride – And this is my little sis, Anastasia – She was shaking.

-          Not so little! – Richard said laughing but then he took An’s right hand and kissed it. She automatically blushed – Let’s take a seat – He moved a chair so Anastasia could take it, such a gentleman. Better for her she got to sit next to him. She was in heaven – I already ordered a bottle of wine so I hope there’s no problem with it.

-          I never have problems with wine – Anastasia said and Richard smiled but her brother gave her a hard look. She and Stephanie laughed.

They talked about any topic one can possibly imagine and Anastasia realize that Richard’s cockiness was just a stage thing, he wasn’t like that at all in real life; he was nice and sweet and had this manly man portrait perfect for his 36 years of age. Something Josh didn’t have, he still looked like he was 25 in her eyes.

-          We went to Italy last year with the tour and I swear you can’t find pasta like the one you find there but I have to say that this is so close! – Anastasia said talking about the Amatriciana pasta she was eating at the moment.

-          I have to agree – Richard said – Where in Italy?

-          We went to Turin and Bologna, beautiful places, not so great to play… at least for us – She said after sipping from her wine glass.

-          Why? – Richard wanted to know.

-          We didn’t connect with the audience there – She answered.

-          So, we’re here for business – Mark said breaking the spell of the conversation between Anastasia and Richard.

-          Right! The video! – Richard said – I’m so glad that you had the time to do this because I’ve been following your career and when I saw you on Mark’s Instagram I knew I had to have you on this. The song is a satire of being this extremely confident rock star but the video story is about two hotel workers that enter one of the rooms and rob the guests while they are out. The thing is that you’re going to be singing in the video and going to be like the master planner of everything, I��m just there to help you. But we are going to be a couple and I must warn you that there may be a kiss… or two – Her mind was about to explode, she would get to kiss the guy of her dreams? Life was perfect.

-          I must warn you that I’m a terrible actress – She said to him.

-          You are not. I’ve seen your videos – She felt ashamed that he saw her in Dead Curse’s videos – I’m a diehard Dead Curse fan.

-          No, you are not! You’re just saying that! – She laughed.

-          I am! Ask your brother – Richard said pointing to Mark.

-          All he did in the studio was saying how much he liked your voice and the way you wrote your songs and how magnificent everyone sounded in that band.

-          You guys are a work of art – Richard said.

After dinner, Richard excused himself to go home and have some sleep since they were going to start shooting early the next day. Mark was tired too but Stephanie and Anastasia decided to stay a little bit longer at the bar.

-          Let me see that ring! – Mark gave Stephanie a Claddagh ring; it was an Irish tradition since her family was from Ireland. The ring was silver and had two hands holding a diamond in the shape of a heart. Claddagh rings had lots of meanings but wearing it with the point of the heart towards the fingertip on the left hand meant engagement.

-          Oh God! He thinks about every freaking little detail!

-          It was perfect! – Stephanie said.

-          I wanna hear everything about it – Anastasia said to her smiling wide.

-          Not only did I meet U2, which is my favorite band in the universe, but he proposed to me while they were performing “Where the Streets Have No Name”, which is my favorite song from The Joshua Tree – little did Steph know it was all Anastasia’s idea – They played the record in order so “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” followed and I swear I could have died in that moment and I’d be gone happily.

-          Now we have a wedding to plan!

-          I have no idea what I want – Steph said drinking champagne.

-          We’ll figure it out – Anastasia said to her. Barbara is perfect for those things, ask her for help!

-          She was over the moon with the news! – Stephanie talked again.

-          Because we all love you so much, sweetie!

-          What about you? This guy was flirting with you blatantly!

-          No, he wasn’t! – Anastasia laughed.

-          He was! Believe me; I know it when I see it.

-          Should I tell him that I used to have his face plastered on my bedroom wall when I was sixteen?

-          Oh my God! No! – Stephanie was laughing hard.

-          You don’t know where that may lead me! – Anastasia was laughing too. In that moment she received a message on her phone, she looked at the screen and saw it was from Josh, “What are you doing? I miss you”. She didn’t reply. She hadn’t told him that she’d be going to Vegas for the weekend, it didn’t matter because he was with Lauren.

-          Is it Josh? – Stephanie asked and Anastasia nodded – Forget about him - The girls got up to pay for their drinks and started to walk to take the elevator back to the floor where their rooms were located - Try luck with Richard! – Anastasia laughed hard.

-          Richard is married and has two kids and that’s a territory I won’t enter – Anastasia said entering the elevator.

-          He is not! He got divorced when they started to record, actually many songs on the album are about that.

-          Didn’t know that! – A smile appeared on Anastasia’s face – Do you think I have a chance with him? – Anastasia said while walking to the hallway.

-          Look at you! You have a chance with any guy you want!

-          Do you realize I use to have wet dreams about him when I was younger?

-          Even better, you know what to expect!

-          Shut up! You sound like Mandy – She was laughing hard – I’m going to sleep. I have a video to film tomorrow – She hugged Stephanie in front of the door of the room she shared with Mark – I love you!

-          Love you too! See you tomorrow!

She entered her room, changed into her pajamas, removed her makeup, put on a face mask and grabbed her phone to read Josh’s messages again, she thought if it was a good idea to reply to him, it was midnight but she was sure he was awake so she decided to text him.

An: Sorry for the delay. I’ve been busy. I’m in Vegas for the weekend, working on some stuff – She sent it.

Josh: Wow! Vegas? You didn’t tell me anything – He answered back, she couldn’t tell if he was angry or not.

An: Sorry, it was a last minute thing – Why did he care? He was with Lauren, she thought.

Josh: Fun stuff?

An: I’m filming a video for a band.

Josh: Which band? – He always had to ask everything.

An: The Genius Sex Poets, they’ve been my favorite band since I was 16, so this is like a dream come true.

Josh: That’s a very stupid name for a band – She knew he was laughing even if she couldn’t see him – Where did they get that from?

An: From The Killers’ video “Mr. Brightside”, that’s the name of the fictional band on it.

Josh: I’m not a fan of The Killers, at all – He was being arrogant.

An: I love them! They also got their name from a fictional band on a New Order video.

Josh: The battle of the fictional band names. I’m stuck in the Joy Division era.

An: Not everyone has the luck of having a drummer with a grandmother called Dorothy – She said it because that’s the story behind Dot Hacker’s name.

Josh: He is your drummer too!

An: I like my band’s name better.

Josh: You know? I thought Fleetwood Mac was your favorite band.

An: Well, you have lots of favorite bands too, but this is different, I’ve had a platonic crush on Richard the lead singer FOR YEARS.

Josh: Mm… ok – He was definitely mad now – When are you coming back?

An: Is Lauren gone? – She had to ask. She didn’t expect him to text her while she was there.

Josh: No, but I miss you even with her next to me.

An: You know that’s fucking confusing, huh?

Josh: Yes, I am aware of that…

An: I’ll be back on Sunday, probably. If the filming doesn’t extend.

Josh: Good to know!

An: I’m going to sleep since we start shooting tomorrow early.

Josh: Dream of me. Love you – Anastasia felt that message so awkward she didn’t even smiled.

An: Love you too.

 Next day she woke up early, tired and angry thanks to last night conversation with Josh. She didn’t expect him to write to her while Lauren was in town, she actually didn’t want him to do it. She didn’t want to think about it, to think about him. Above all that she was happy, it had been a glorious night: meeting Richard Austin, her platonic love and thinking about him asking her to be on his band’s video, it was a dream come true.

She put on a pair of jeans and a Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt, she had tons of them after the tour, this one was white with the logo in red and black. She paired the outfit with black vans and she hit the road. They were filming in the same hotel so Mark led her to a room in the third floor where the production was being held. She saw Richard and he hugged her like they’d known each other for years (she was shaking), then he introduced her to the rest of the band. She had seen them live so many times before but never got the chance to actually meet them, she never idolized anyone but this was a big moment in her life. |Then it was time to meet the director, a friend of Richard’s. He explained the story to her: she was going to be a cleaning girl from the hotel and Richard was going to be working at the reception. After spotting a rich couple that was staying there, they decided to rob them. Anastasia’s character was going to be in charge of the operation and she was going to be singing like it was her song. She was excited and agreed with everything. It was then time to start and the first step was hair and makeup.

-          We were thinking about changing the color of your hair but we wanted to consult it with you first – The director told her – We have a couple of wigs – He pointed to a corner when they had a caramel wig, a blond one and a red one. She chose the red one as soon as she saw it.

-          I had red hair once, years ago – Anastasia said.

-          I would have liked to meet you then – Richard said smiling. And she blushed. “What is wrong?” She thought. She didn’t use to blush that often.

A hair dresser put her wig on and a makeup artist did magic on her face and after wearing a cleaning service uniform she was ready to film. She had time to hear the song on repeat while she was getting ready so now she knew it as if she’d written it herself.  

First day of shooting went great. An and Richard were having great chemistry, which got more intense next day when they had to film in one of the hotel rooms, where they were stealing the jewelry and cash from the “rich couple.” On the script she would get to try on one of the wife’s gowns, a beautiful green dress that contrasted heavenly - or more like devilishly - with the red hair. Of course she took a million pictures and selfies during breaks.

In that part of the video they had to dance and enjoy the clothes and things from the guests they were stealing. Anastasia had to try on Swarovski necklaces and diamond earrings and she was in heaven. They had a bunch of fake cash and she kept throwing it to Richard, they were having fun until a part of the video where he hugged her after a dance and he put his face close to hers, it was pure tension, she looked into his eyes and he looked back into her big, turquoise eyes and almost, almost kissed her but the director yelled “Cut!” breaking the spell.

-          Thank you so much for doing this – Richard said after shooting was done.

-          You don’t have to thank me, I had so much fun doing it! – She had so much fun two days had gone by without her thinking about Josh.

-          I think I’m going to hit the ‘Ghostbar’ at the Ivory Tower – Richard said looking at her straight – Would you like to join me?

-          Yes! – She said without even thinking about it. Mark and Stephanie were enjoying the city so she didn’t have to worry about them.

The Ghostbar was a beautiful place, extravagant and fancy just like every other place in Las Vegas. They got a spot at the actual bar, Richard ordered a Margarita for her and a beer for himself. She liked that, him taking charge. But she didn’t know why.

-          Mark told me you guys where touring right now – Richard said.

-          Yes! We’re opening for the Red Hot Chili Peppers – She said.

-          That’s why you’re wearing that tee shirt? – She laughed and realized she wasn’t properly dressed for such a fancy place like that.

-          I have a ton now! Nah, but I’m a fan, I love them.

-          They must be fun people to tour with.

-          I thought they were going to be wilder – Anastasia had a drink from her Margarita glass, it tasted like heaven – They are all fathers now and are into this natural vibe. I was expecting Flea running naked around at every venue – He laughed.

-          I like the Peppers! Haven’t seen them live in a while though. You guys are going to play Glastonbury soon, right?

-          That’s a dream come true…

-          We played there a couple of times before and there’s not a better crowd in the entire world.

-          I know, I’ve seen you guys in Glasto a bunch of times.

-          Oh, are you a fan? – He laughed after drinking some beer.

-          The biggest! I used to have your face plastered on my bedroom wall when I was sixteen – She stopped – And I can’t believe I just told you that – Richard started laughing hard – Not in a creepy way, though!

-          That’s awesome – Richard was still laughing – I would like to say the same but you weren’t around when I was a teenager. I would love to have that beautiful face on my wall without a doubt – She couldn’t help but smile.

-          Thank you – She drank more of her cocktail.

Being with Richard was so easy. They talked about everything; even his divorce and about how hard it was to have a real relationship being a musician, even harder with somebody that’s not in the same business. He had been separated from his ex-wife for almost a year, and was the father of a boy. An told him that she knew people that managed to have successful relationships being in this industry (Eric, Mandy and even Mark) but she totally understood him because for her father it had been a hard issue all of his life; even though it had something to do with the fact that her father was a fucking man-whore sometimes.

They connected, and connected well. At the end of the night he thanked her again kissing her hand and they even exchanged numbers.

She came back to her room with a big smile on her face. It wasn’t about love; it was about having a great time with an amazing person. She was happy and on top of all she was calm and Josh didn’t appear in her mind – or her phone – for the rest of Vegas trip.

That Sunday she managed to have an amazing shopping spree with Stephanie in some of the most exclusive stores in Sin City. After that, Mark joined them for a late lunch, and that night they flew back to Los Angeles. Once at home she received a text: “Hope you made it home safe, thanks for joining me and everyone this weekend”, it was from Richard and she just stood there, in her kitchen, smiling like an idiot.

Read chapter 37