#michael in life it’s the essentially keeping Each Other stuck of it all

[bravevolunteer]

thinking about michael between pizza sim and security breach having a conversation with old man consequences…

[muzzleroars]

One of your recent asks got me thinking, what is going to happen when V2 eventually hits its own expiration? How will Michael feel or what could he possibly do in this scenario?

i like to think michael and v2 tend to be much more...well-prepared for this eventuality than gabriel and v1 were. they're not sure how long v2 can go, given that through hell's meddling it's essentially cheated death, but it likely also isn't forever. however, v2 is aware of this and, again contrary to v1, is much better at not getting stuck on existentialist dread and instead working on a solution to its death. they both know it may be inevitable, but in the same way v2 takes up a lot of research in helping michael maintain his body, michael learns to be quite a skilled mechanic and v2 likely becomes something of a ship of theseus with the two consistently replacing its parts (michael becomes highly adept at modifying scrap - with the help of access to heaven's forge - to copy v2's parts). this does lead v2 to question its identity at some points, stemming all the way back to its original reconstruction, but it comes to the conclusion that this may just be the nature of the machine...or perhaps of living far beyond one's life expectancy.

v2 knows its mind is the most delicate part of itself though, a perfectly balanced quantum computer that must be maintained as the core part of itself because there's no scrap that can replace it in any other machine. this was the point of failure for v1 as well, and they're pretty doubtful hell would be feeling generous a second time. in a timeline where v2 continues to survive, i like to think it's maintained itself much better than v1 and so observes all that happens with it when it dies including its subsequent resurrection, inspiring it and michael in a likely similar capacity. to build a quantum computer, but one augmented by the divine, engineered by v2 and constructed in the heavenly forge by michael with both collaborating on the alignment of the crystal structure within it. v2 understands its own configuration and how to improvement upon it, while michael's knowledge of esoteric mathematics allow them to build a computer powered by the divine. uriel's knowledge base proves invaluable for this endeavor and it takes quite some time (many, many failures in prototyping, plus likely having the realization they'll need to also construct a more heavenly shell given that this computer would melt repurposed scrap lol), but i enjoy v2 being the first divine computer. importantly, this isn't a shift like v1's, who is now essentially part angel, part machine - v2's is subtler, still entirely a machine but now running on perfect, godly equations. it almost has a hard time keeping up with itself at first but it isn't put off by it since it was once a machine that was too human, so now it's a machine too divine.

however, i will add that in the event v2 reached the end of its lifespan, i think michael would seek his comfort in the idea that he cannot possibly last forever either. he knows he will die, he knows he will reach his end too, and v2 has proven, at least in his mind, that it has a soul. he would commit it to the earth, where it was born and what it had always wanted to protect, and he would join it there when he finally felt himself wilting. maintaining his faith as he does, michael would truly believe v2 is waiting somewhere for him, that the code woven by that computer is no different from DNA, that the mind it housed, all its emotions, its thoughts, its consciousness, had given it a spark of the divine. that humanity, from god, had passed down their soul to this grandchild of creation. its place is not in heaven or hell, but somewhere he doesn't know yet, somewhere finally fully beyond the physical where it doesn't need a body or blood. he's not sure if that means he's at last given into some kind of heresy, but he will continue to pray each day, asking v2 to help guide him when he finally joins it.

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Goodbye Emmanuelle (Letterier, 1977)

In Goodbye Emmanuelle: Her Last Game of Death... Okay, that’s not the actual title, but I just can’t resist making a Bruceploitation joke. Technically Emmanuelle is a character in The Dragon Lives Again, even if she isn’t played by Sylvia Kristel there, so one could argue that Kristel is a Bruceploitation star by proxy. (No, the character does not kung fu fight in that movie, but does try to give somebody a sex-induced heart attack.) Normally this is the part where I go into a long-winded anecdote only tangentally related to the movie, but I’m just settling for Bruceploitation jokes this time. We’re having fun, right? Why is everybody leaving? Fine, I’ll talk about the actual movie.

This entry finds Emmanuelle and her husband living the good life in the Seychelles. One day when they’re gettin’ it on on the beach, she makes eye contact with a hunky director cruising by shirtless on a boat while filming something or other, and becomes hopelessly attracted to him. This causes Emmanuelle to reexamine her lifestyle choices and creates tension in her marriage. Will their (free) love survive the presence of this hunky shirtless director? Or is it doomed to fail like his shirt presumably was at keeping him clothed? I guess the biggest problem I have with this one is that it has the characters behave fundamentally differently than the previous movies. The second entry especially defines the relationship between Emmanuelle and her husband as being open, honest and encouraging of each others’ extracurricular activities. Having them suddenly grow jealous, possessive and monogamously inclined feels like a betrayal of who these characters are. Now obviously people can change and experience different emotions, but there needs to be a convincing instigating factor to sell this change, and this director fella, hunky as he is, ain’t it. He’s just a big pile of nothing, and it’s hard to see why Emmanuelle would go for him when his competition is the significantly more charismatic Umberto Orsini.

The featurette on the Kino Blu-ray has Kristel and others talking about this movie taking a more intellectual approach, and I don’t think the movie is better off, as what we get here is pretty rote stuff. In contrast, while the second movie is an almost plotless progression of softcore sex scenes, those help you feel the dynamic of their relationship much better than this one tells you about it. (The second movie is also substantially better smut, as this one has fewer and less imaginative sex scenes.) The movie does share some of the non-skeevy pleasures of the previous movies, in that it’s handsomely shot and takes place in an attractive setting, meaning it’s not unpleasant to veg out to even if the actual proceedings aren’t terribly interesting. Yet Seychelles is essentially a vacation spot here, as the movie fails to mine it for the kind of erotic charge that Bangkok and Hong Kong provided in the previous entries. (I guess that makes it less problematic, and but also less interesting. These movies are all about white people having sexual adventures in exotic locales, but this one seems least eager to own up to it.) There’s also the music by Serge Gainsbourg, who I imagine brought some of the same energy to composing this as Michael Scott did in that one episode when he wore the one braid in his hair after a Caribbean vacation. His main theme, replete with seductively breathy vocals by Jane Birkin, did get stuck in my head for the rest of the day, so I guess I liked it.

As you can deduce from the title, this marked the last entry where Kristel played the lead role. I don’t know how good the later entries are supposed to be, but I see one of them is directed by Walerian Borowczyk, so perhaps further exploration is warranted. (She admits she took cameos in the later entries because she needed money, which is refreshing in its honesty.) Now, aside from the resolution of her relationship troubles, the movie also waves goodbye to her in fairly literal terms. Or rather, she waves to us, multiple times, in slow motion. I don’t know, I thought it was cute.

[watchmegetobsessed]

The best present - Harry Styles

Sequel to UPDATE

on demand, this is a fluffy little sequel to update, hope you’ll like it! tagging the people who asked for said sequel: @urdadbtch​ @f-vasquezp​ 

word count: 3k

masterlist

Harry has a soft spot for surprises. Especially if he is the one planning them for a loved one. The overflowing joy he sees in one’s eyes upon receiving a carefully planned surprise just gives him a different type of satisfaction in life, one he couldn’t live without.

His life has taken a pleasant turn ever since Y/N entered it, virtually and in a real dimension. It hasn’t been the easiest with his hectic schedule and her anchored life in Spokane, but with some time paid to adjusting to the situation they managed to make it work. He wouldn’t have settled for anything else, because he just simply couldn’t imagine his life without her anymore and luckily she felt the same way.

Harry fell in love with her quicker than what it took for the weather to turn cold in the fall. It felt like the most natural thing that has ever happened to him, to fall for her whole being, everything that’s her on the inside and outside. Harry often caught himself thinking what he did in life to earn such a beautiful person in his life. He hasn’t figured that one out yet.

Y/N was like a warm summer breeze on a hot august evening, easily charmed anyone and everyone Harry introduced her to. She slowly but surely met some of the most important people in Harry’s life and he just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that it felt like she’s been part of his life since forever even on the first meetings.

“She is wonderful, I love her,” his mother told him when they finally had the chance to meet upon a weekend they spent in New York. It was a lucky time when both his mother and Y/N were free and he took the chance to cook up a mini vacation in the city right away. Anne was thrilled to meet the woman that had her son wrapped around her fingers even before meeting.

Harry felt like he was on the top of the world when he saw the two women get along like they’ve been friends for years, it filled his heart even more.

The situation was quite the same with Gemma, in just a blink of an eye they were making plans on their own not including Harry, which hit him a little hard in the chest, but he was happy knowing they found the common ground.

“You amaze me so much,” he once told Y/N when they were spending the night at her place, one of those weekends when Harry flew all the way to Spokane just to spend less than 48 hours with her. Even with the long flights and hustle that came with the traveling he wouldn’t have done it any other way. If he could see her smile for just ten minutes he would have travelled days.

“I do?” she asked smirking up at him, putting her book aside as she rested her chin on his tattooed chest.

“Mhm,” he hummed with a quirky smile. “In so many ways.”

“Write a song about them so I can listen to it,” she told him as a joke. Little did she know that not even a week later that’s exactly what Harry did. It was another addition to the endless list of songs she inspired.

December creeped its way around the corner faster than they were expecting and in a blink of an eye every store was filled with Christmas ornaments and wrapping papers, the most iconic Christmas songs were played everywhere, making those who work at retail want to throw Michael Bublé and Mariah Carey right out the window for every having the thought of recording Christmas music.

Harry and Y/N had plans for the holidays. They agreed on spending three days from 22nd to 24th with his family and then fly to Portland to be with her family from the 25th to 27th before they head to New York City to spend the last few days left from the year together and celebrate the new year at a party Harry was invited to.

These plans were set in stone right until Harry decided to surprise his lover with the best gift he could think about. It was a tough call and took him weeks to arrange but Harry was able to get Y/N’s brother to leave for the holidays earlier, on the 21st instead of just the 26th.

“Why are we changing it again?” Y/N asks curiously as she sits on Harry’s lap when they are changing their plane tickets so they could start the holidays at her family instead of his.

“Mom is not going to be home until the 24th,” he lies and then adds: “Gemma is also gonna only arrive on the 23rd. Figured it would work better. We would be at your parents’ from the 21st to the 23rd, go to the UK from 24th to 26th and there is an early flight so we would be in Portland by the time your brother arrives.”

He had spent a long time figuring out how to manage the dates so she wouldn’t be suspicious. Seemingly, it worked, because Y/N nods as she stands up and walks over to the kitchen.

“Alright. But isn’t that too much of a hustle to go back and forth two times?”

“Not that horrible,” Harry smiles in her way, his fingers moving fast on the keyboard to make the right changes for their trips before she returns and sees that the dates are not exactly the same as he told her. Luckily, she hops onto the kitchen counter as he finishes up and closes his laptop feeling ecstatic about the surprise he has planned for her.

“It’s gonna be busy,” she points out as Harry walks over to her, placing his hands on each side of her on the counter.

“But we will be busy together,” he grins leaning closer to steal a kiss.

As the days pass by Harry is growing more and more excited about the surprise. He almost slipped a few times upon talking about the holidays, but managed to save the situation just in time. Y/N had no idea what he had in store for her.

“That’s all your stuff for our trip?” Y/N asks when Harry arrives to her place with his decent, normal sized suitcase that has his essentials for the next about seven days while they will be on the road. He glances down at his bag before walking inside and setting it down in the hallway.

“Love, I’ve learned how to pack in a smart way,” he tells her teasingly before pecking her on the lips while he takes his coat off and hangs it in the hallway.

“Yeah, but it’s an entire week. I’m going with twice this much.”

“’Cuz you are packing for New York as well. We’ll be staying in my place, remember? I don’t need stuff for that time,” he reminds her and he is right, but she is still amazed at how he managed to fit everything he needs into just one suitcase.

That night Harry lies awake with her sleeping form next to him. Looking around the room he thinks about how this is the same place he fell in love with her, but it was through just a screen. All the plants, the furniture, the bed he saw behind her in the videos are now his reality as well and in just a few short months they have grown so close to each other, he couldn’t imagine his life in a different way.

“What’s the matter?” he hears her groggy voice coming from next to him and looking to the side he sees that she is blinking at him in the dark.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, turning to his side to face her, noses almost touching on the pillow.

“Then why aren’t you sleeping?” she asks, sneaking a hand to his back under the covers and she starts to gently stroke his skin with his fingertips, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Just… excited about the holidays,” he whispers with a shrug. He can’t tell her that he is excited to meet your family, especially your brother since he is kind of the reason you ever got the chance to meet. He feels like he is too worked up about meeting her parents and cousins, but he can’t wait to feel like he is part of her family. What he doesn’t know is that she already sees him as part of it, has been since she realized how deeply in love she is with him.

“Mmm, excited about your gifts?” she teases him with closed eyes, but her fingers are still moving on his back. Harry lets out a soft chuckle.

“Especially about those.”

He brings his arm around her frame and pulls her to his chest as they make themselves comfortable under the covers, legs tangled, her face resting on his chest as he gently strokes her arms, soothing her back into sleep.

“I love you,” he whispers thinking she has already fallen back asleep. It wasn’t the first time he has said the words to her, but tonight just feels a little different.

“Love you too,” she mumbles back pressing a kiss to his naked chest before she sighs and lets herself fall back into sleep.

 Her family knew about the change in Sammy’s arrival, but Harry made them promise they won’t say a word to Y/N, keeping it as a surprise.

Her mother welcomes the two of them with warm excitement, the house already smelling amazing from all the different cookies she’s been baking, the dinner is also in the making on the stove.

“Finally here!” she hugs both of them, even though she hasn’t officially met Harry, only talked to him on the phone about Sammy’s early arrival. “Come on in!”

The two of them get rid of their winter attire before Harry turns to her mother holding out a hand to make their first meeting official.

“So nice to meet ya, I’m Harry.”

Instead of taking his hand her mother pulls him into another tight hug that he returns with a soft chuckle.

“I’m so happy you are finally here! I’ve heard so much good about you,” she tells him with a sly, knowing smile while Y/N is not looking. “I can tell you are a blessing to the family already.”

“Thank you,” he nods smiling.

Harry meets Y/N’s dad and two of her cousins who have arrived earlier and they all gather in the living room just talking at first, then soon enough they start playing board games. They get stuck on Activity, the pairs are Y/N and Harry, her mom and dad, and her two cousins. The competition is burning up the house, Harry can tell they all take the game very seriously.

Through the game Harry keeps glancing out the window, waiting for a car to park at the driveway. He has sent a car to pick Sammy up, but since he didn’t have his phone on him just yet he couldn’t let Harry know when he would be arriving exactly.

Just after he is done drawing in one of the rounds he sees the black car pull up at the house. Harry pretends to get a call and he can see the excitement grow in her parents’ eyes as they already know what this means, while Y/N is oblivious to anything that’s about to happen. Harry quietly makes his way out of the house hoping he didn’t draw her attention, and that’s when Sammy gets out of the car thanking the driver for the ride. As he turns around Harry is stunned to see how much the two of them resemble. He sees her eyes in his, their ears curl the same way and he has the exactly same hair color as her. There was no doubt the two of them were related.

“Harry, right?” he asks holding his hand out firmly that Harry takes smiling.

“Yeah. Sammy, I supposed.”

“The one and only,” he chuckles holding his bag’s strap over his shoulder.

“I would love to chat more, but I think we should move inside first,” Harry suggests and Sammy follows him up the few stairs that leads to the front door.

“Harry! Come on, we are up next!” Y/N calls out from the living room as the two guys walk inside.

She is seated on the floor, her back to the hallway so she doesn’t see when the two men walk in, grinning from ear to ear. She only notices something is happening when she sees her mother gasp happily at the sight of her son.

“What—“ she starts but turning around her words disappear as she stares up at her brother who she hasn’t seen in what feels like ages.

Harry overflows with joy when he sees how shocked she is, in the best way possible. He watches her leap to her feet and jolt right at Sammy, throwing herself into his arms as he lifts her up, twirling her around in excitement.

“Hi there, little sis,” he chuckles still holding her close as she is fighting with her tears upon the surprise she just had.

“How… What are you doing here early?” she asks in total awe as she tries to comprehend that he is truly here, in her arms.

“Ask you boyfriend,” Sammy chuckles looking in Harry’s direction. “He arranged an early leaving for me, I don’t know how, but he did,” Sammy adds letting go of his sister.

As her parents make their way to their son Y/N moves over to Harry, still in complete disbelief that he did this.

“How?” she asks, arms snaking up around his neck while his hands get a hold of her waist.

“I have… connections,” he shrugs shyly and she just shakes her head laughing before she pulls him down for the sweetest thank you kiss.

“I can’t believe you,” she sighs pecking his lips once again.

“What I can’t believe is that he could keep it a secret this long,” Sammy speaks up.

“Wait, how long have you known this?”

“A couple weeks. Got it finalized early December,” Harry admits, feeling proud that he could make this happen.

“So this is why we had to change the tickets!” she gasps in realization. “When do we have to leave for real then?”

“We are staying until the 25th, our plane leaves in the afternoon,” he smiles warmly as he sees her eyes light up. According to the original plans they would have had only two days with Sammy at home, but this way it’s almost four entire days. “This was the most I could get, Love,” Harry adds, feeling a bit guilty that they are leaving to see his family, but Y/N shakes her head.

“This is absolutely perfect. You gave me the best present,” she smiles cupping his face in her hands as she pulls him down for another kiss.

This Christmas goes down as the best one she has ever had. The time they spend with her family holds a special place in her heart, especially because she loves seeing her family and Harry get along so well. She now knows what he felt when she met his mother and sister. Seeing him be so kind to her mom and have loads of things to talk about with her dad and brother warms her in a way only Harry can make her feel.

The feeling doesn’t change when they arrive to his home. She feels like she is part of the family just as much as he is. They spend some splendid days with his extended family, enjoying the spirit of the holidays and she is almost sad when it’s time for them to leave.

“Come back soon, Sweetheart,” Anne tells her when they are saying goodbye at the airport.

“I will, if he is okay with bringing me next time,” she chuckles glancing at Harry by her side.

“Oh I sure am, Love,” he smiles kissing the top of her head.

Those couple of days they spend together in the city holds memories they will surely never forget. They finally get to spend time together without anything interrupting them, just enjoying the little moments, falling deeper in love with each passing day.

The last day arrives in a fast pace and neither of them can believe the year is ending so soon. They spend the day in bed mostly before it’s time to get ready for the party one of Harry’s friends is hosting in Manhattan.

It’s a nice way to end such a wonderful year, they mix and mingle with the guests but keep each other close, especially when they reach the last minutes of the year left. Harry takes her hand and pulls her out to the balcony to have some privacy before the countdown.

“Crazy how we are here,” he sighs as his arms are wrapped around her figure, warming her body as much as he can in the New York City winter time.

“Who would have thought?” she chuckles placing a sweet kiss to his jawline.

“Not me,” he admits laughing. “But I’m glad it’s my reality now.”

Y/N smiles up at him with gratitude in her eyes, just when the countdown starts inside.

“Have you ever had a New Year’s Eve kiss?” Harry asks as he pulls her closer, if that’s even possible.

“Sadly, I have not.”

“Then can I have the pleasure to be your first?” he smirks down at her and she just nods biting into her bottom lip.

“Three! Two! One!” the guests call out inside as the whole city erupts at the same time, fireworks go off and cheering echoes through the building, but it all fades into nothing as Harry leans down and kisses her sweetly. They spend the first couple of moments of the new year melted together until they pull back for air. The crispy winter air has turned his nose red quickly and she is lost in how adorable but handsome he still manages to look.

“Harry Styles,” she sighs feeling defeated by her own feelings. “You are one wonderful creature, you know that?” she wonders, as if she was saying her inner thoughts out loud. Harry chuckles as he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“That makes the two of us, Love.”

I’m opening a Harry taglist, let me know if you are interested in being on it!

[calumxkisses]

I Can’t Make You Love Me | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: angst (i’m sorry)

summary: part three of ‘Take My Breath Away’ (part 2 here)

a/n: hello everyone! here I am with part three! i made a promise, i know, and i honestly have no excuses for another angst part. in my defense, there’s going to be a last part, so we’ll see what is going to happen! please, let me know what you think about it and i hope this doesn’t disappoint your expectations. love you all! i also wanna say thank you to the anon who suggested the two songs, they were essential to the creation of this new part. 

songs for this part: can’t make you love me ; whiskey and you ; i love you (choose your fighter)

♡♡♡

Calum was not used to believing in the signs of fate; of course, in everyday life, coincidences used to happen, but he had always stopped to call them that: coincidences. But maybe he was wrong, maybe there really were signs, and one of the certainties he had always carried with him was now crumbling. 

First the fever: he hadn't been ill for years, a few colds every now and then, but never anything overly serious. Instead, this time he was hit with a bad flu, one that leads you to take too many medications to say "I'm fine" and that leads you to spend three weeks in bed. Three weeks, right around the time the wedding was planned. 

Then, the wedding dress was lost. It was made by a stylist, his girlfriend's favorite, and it came straight from France. She had gone to choose it, try it out, customize it, and then never receive it. Apparently, someone had stolen it and they had to postpone the wedding: her grandmother wanted to give her the dress of her dreams (“After all, you only get married once in a lifetime!” The old lady's said) and so they had been forced to make another one from scratch, postponing the wedding.

And then the wedding rings had come in the wrong size, the church had been booked by another couple, everything seemed to prevent the couple from getting married. 

She was exhausted, but she was still convinced to marry him. 

Calum, however, was starting to think again: Michael had told him it was normal to feel stressed and unsure about the wedding before the big day, but he knew there was so much more. Or much less, when viewed from a different point of view. Something wasn't right and he had noticed it more and more.

The truth is, things haven't been going well for a while. The relationship was beautiful, spectacular from the outside, but in his dreams, things were different; he felt it, tried to reject those thoughts, but it wasn't easy.

So Luke had decided to throw him a party. A small party, without too many guests, to try to calm the bassist's nerves. He had invited their old group, the friends with whom they had been in the mountains to celebrate several New Years, with whom they had traveled to Bali more times than they wanted to admit and with whom he had spent happy moments. He wanted to remind him that despite everything, despite the new life that was about to begin, they would be there, by his side, ready to live this new adventure with him.

Calum absolutely didn't want to go to the party. He was obviously grateful to his friends for everything they had and were doing for him, but the only thing he wanted to do was stay home, under the covers, waiting for this to pass quickly and for it to finally be his turn to be happy. He was happy, but it didn't seem like the right happiness, he was experiencing someone's happiness. Of an old version of himself, probably.. but when had all this changed?

It was a question he had often been asking himself lately, usually accompanied by a few glasses of Whiskey. He did not even like that Jack Daniel's, but it seemed the ideal solution when all the weight of the world seemed to rest on his shoulders, giving him a very strong headache, accompanied by the thousands of doubts that assailed him every day.

But she was always there, ready to close the bottle of alcohol and embrace all his insecurities, accompanying him to bed and hugging him in the dark of the night. She was an angel, and Calum knew it, she was ready to help him whenever he fell.

The room was crowded, although only few people showed up for the party. The place had been decorated with small colored lights, a recurring decoration at their parties, and on the tables there were all kinds of snacks: chips, popcorn, candies, pizza, any food that could have become a craving created by the alcohol.

The music played pop and rock hits, great classics that would please any music lover and that would be the ideal base for any type of dance that occupied the floor.

The girls were by the window, a beer pong table divided them into two teams, and little laughter spread throughout the room with each missed basket. 

His girlfriend was talking with her friends while sipping sub-branded beer at every point of the other team, a smile was on her face as she told everyone about the different ideas she had for the ceremony.

Ashton and the others were a few feet away, their bodies forming a small circle,  everyone seemed to be having a good evening commenting new albums and laughing at old jokes and moments spent together.

Calum didn’t belong to either group, he was on the sidelines of all the others, with a glass of alcohol in his hand, with his body in that room and his mind in a completely different universe. He was not in the mood, he was tired, he kept repeating to anyone who asked him the reason for this behavior and no one suspected anything or investigated in depth, because everyone knew that the preparations for a wedding were not easy, that having just released an album and preparing for a new life was tiring. Everyone understood and left him there, keeping him company only occasionally, when his eyes closed or became too glossy.

He was happy and he was really tired. Things had not gone according to plan and everything seems to be more difficult than he expected. He knew it, and he didn't blame himself for it. Everything would be fine, he would be happy and this would be the last climb before a big view. He would marry a beautiful woman, raise a family, all while pursuing his dream as a musician. Everything would be perfect, fine.

“What are you doing all alone here, loser?” A voice said at his side, a voice he hadn't heard in a long, long time, and that had missed like water in a desert. A familiar voice, which would have saved him from every bad thing.

Luke had called you just a few days before, finding you had been difficult given your continuous travels, but he knew that your presence was essential and he would have traveled the whole world to find you, pick you up and take you there. And not only because the curly-haired boy needed it, but because everyone missed you, because the concerts were no longer the same without you waiting for them with pizza and compliments for all of them. 

Ashton had met you a few months earlier for a coffee in San Francisco because your absence had become painful for him too, he who was used to talking to you on the balcony of some hotel, under the sky of any city ​​was hosting them.

You left, everyone knew you were going to, and no one had tried to stop you. You needed it. You were broken, you no longer had a certain future and you needed to find yourself, your peace, your happiness. 

You didn’t know where you would find these things, so you decided to travel the world with the money you had saved and in the end you were able to find serenity, returning to yourself and the world no longer scared you. 

You had missed Calum deeply and there had been so many times where you had found yourself with your cell phone in front of your eyes, with his contact on the screen, ready to call him. 

And it had happened a couple of times, as the sun was rising where you were and setting where he was, and he had answered you, reassuring you that everything was going well. And you told him about the beautiful places you were visiting, about the cultures you were getting to know, and you found yourself laughing at the foods he would have never tried, but that you swore he would have loved.

Despite everything, as he promised you, he remained by your side and cared for you and that helped you to move forward. You still felt so much for him, and part of you would always love the boy with the pink mug and messy hair, but maybe now something had changed. Now your heart no longer hurted so much at the thought of a future without him by your side, and you really felt happiness when you thought about their wedding. 

Sure, occasionally a few tears still fell, but the important thing was that you and Calum would be happy, even if not together.

“Doll.” It was the only thing he was able to say before hugging you tightly, with a huge smile on his face and his heart ready to explode with happiness.

And you knew that that 'doll' was worth more than the memory hidden behind the word, your badly done Halloween dress and the piece of paper stuck to your chest with your disguise written on it to help others understand.

That 'doll' carried with it all the moments you hadn't spent together, all the movies you hadn't seen together on the sofa, all the moonlit walks with Duke, every Sunday at your family brunches - the family you created with all your friends, which hasn't been the same since you left.

Calum broke away from the hug and his eyes were wet, not from the hours spent awake at night but from the emotion he was feeling in seeing you. And all of a sudden, the room was empty and your presence was the only one that mattered. 

Your hair had been cut to help your new start, but it had grown back and your skin sparkled like your eyes, full of life and happiness.

You were simply gorgeous, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. And beautiful not only for your appearance, but for the light you radiated. You had brought back the light into his darkness and there was nothing he had needed more.

On the other hand, you couldn't say the same. Of course, he was as beautiful as the sun and that hadn't changed, but that sun wasn't shining anymore. His eyes were dull, his dark circles were darker and his face looked paler. His body no longer gave off joy, but it was just there, a normal body. 

But you loved him all the same, because he was your Calum and you knew that it happened every now and then, that his world got darker, that his happiness was rarer, and you knew that you would do anything to make him feel better, to show him how much beautiful the world was thanks to his presence. 

Because the world was a better place with Calum Hood in it. 

“How are things going?” you asked, although you already knew the answer. Michael used to send you messages in which he updated you on their life without you and among the thousand news, he never forgot to tell you about Calum, how his life was progressing and how marriage was destroying him before he even got married.

“Harder than I thought, honestly. I'm a little stressed out, that's all.” He lied. You knew he was lying and he knew you knew, but that meant he didn't feel like talking about it right now, and that was okay. You didn't want to force him, he would open up when he felt the need and you would be there, because there was no reason to run away again.

“You stressed out? I would have never said that. You usually never take anything seriously.” You said giggling and giving him a friendly pat on the arm. He smiled and your heart skipped a beat. 

“How are you instead?” He asked softly, ready to hear you talk again for hours, never getting tired of your voice. A voice that had become a habit over time, which in the darkest nights he heard repeatedly listening to the voice messages you left him.

“I'm fine, honestly. I liked Thailand a lot, it's really special. In the hotel in Bangkok there was a little black elephant walking around and I think I spent half my vacation petting it and the Thai culture is so beautiful, Calum! And Santorini, what a dream! I’m pretty sure that’s how heaven looks like.”

You kept talking, remembering the Asian sun on your skin and the taste of Greek sea water. It was a dream to be able to travel, visit places and cultures that you had imagined since childhood, totally different from what you were used to. You had missed not having someone by your side in exploring these wonders, but traveling alone had helped you, it had made you a different woman. And there would still have been the opportunity to return in the future, accompanied by anyone who wanted to have an adventure with you.

Calum paid attention to all the words that came out of your mouth, noticing the happiness in your eyes in remembering everything you had experienced. You had been happy, the broken heart had been replaced by so much joy. 

He was really happy for you but, selfishly, he longed to see you again with a broken heart, because it would mean that you still loved him. 

But Calum was careful to chase away certain thoughts from his head, after all it was he who didn't stop you, it was he who let you go because you needed it, because he broke your heart and you couldn't look for help in him.

“There is this pizzeria in Naples that makes the best pizza in the world, you should try it. Nothing compared to that kind of pizza we used to order during our  Friday nights, it’s way better. And Rome by night is magical. I threw a coin in the Trevi fountain, you know? I know we don't believe in these things, but I wanted to make a wish anyway, you never know that magic really exists.”

Your voice kept repeating itself in his ears and while you joyfully told him about the wonderful places you had visited, Calum could do nothing but listen to you and imagine himself there with you, admiring the Italian sea of ​​Naples and dancing in front of the Colosseum at night, away from the prying eyes of people, on the melodies of some street artist. There was nothing he wanted more than being there with you, away from all those lies that surrounded him.

And as soon as he heard the sound of your laughter, his heart expanded and Calum knew that nothing was going right because what was missing was you. It was you who filled his days, who made sure that the sun shone even on rainy days, which made the stars jealous of so much brilliance.

It was you who took the joy out of his life as soon as you turned the corner of that old building that long-gone night of his birthday. That January 25 night he had not only lost his best friend, but he had lost what made him choose life above all his negative thoughts. 

As you told him about your adventures, you were careful to tell him only the happy moments, so that he didn't know about the bad days. But the truth was that everything hadn't gone so well and more than once you found yourself at the airport, ready to take the first plane to go back to him. 

There had been many days in which you were locked in your hotel room, hidden under the covers, crying over the loneliness that would accompany you. 

You had spent sleepless nights imagining him in his tuxedo, with his hair tidy - as far as possible - and with his usual spectacular smile on his face, on the altar of a church or on a beach of Balì, the same beach where he was lying next to you to observe the stormy sea, holding you tightly while reassuring you that you would be fine. 

And then the dream would become a nightmare, and instead of seeing you in the white dress, you saw her, shining in her wedding dress, approaching him with her makeup smeared with tears of joy, ready to promise him an eternity of love.

And you were there, sitting on some distant bench or standing at the back of the church, helpless while losing your soul mate.

At the end of your travel, you hadn't visited France. You refused to visit the Tourre Effeil, to walk along the banks of the Seine and to lose yourself in the architecture of Notre Damè. Paris was your dream since you were little, you spent entire afternoons planning your vacation in the French capital and at the age of 13 you promised yourself that you would visit Paris only with your soulmate, only with the one that would have treated you like a queen and that would have loved you like in fairy tales. 

And despite growing up, you wanted to keep the promise made to your little, innocent you. And so Paris was left out and you thought it would be forever, because the only person who could make thirteen-year-old you proud was in love with  someone else.

Then the words ended and as the stereo played Queen songs, your eyes were lost in his. The outside noises seemed to belong to a different space and the world really seemed to revolve around you and Calum. There was no one left but you two, lost in each other's minds. Your hearts had stopped beating, there were only two separate souls, ready to intertwine together. There was no longer just Calum or just you, there was you, together. Something was different, right. 

Nothing mattered anymore and even the eyes of the boy in front of you seemed to have regained their brightness. 

His hand stroked your face, gently bringing the wisps of hair on your face behind your ear, his touch was reassuring and you closed your eyes for a brief moment.

Calum took a step forward and you didn't move, his free hand took yours in his and you didn't pull it back, his gaze moved to your lips and yours to his, and neither of you moved. Neither of you wanted to leave, too caught up in the moment.

“Hey, I didn't know you were coming!” A soft voice said behind you, and the bubble created by you and Calum burst. You moved away, your hearts beating again. She was there, next to him, neither of you had noticed her coming, but her presence could no longer go unnoticed. It wouldn't have been fair.

In the end, he had chosen her. His heart was beating for another girl, whether you liked it or not. His feelings were for her and it was okay, it had to be okay. You didn't go around the world for nothing. Your heart was broken, but now it was healed. Things had to stay that way.

You were happy like that. 

“How are you doing?” She asked in her sweet voice. Her arm intertwined with the boy's and her eyes were watching you intently, interested in what your answer would be. She was so kind, so innocent, and for no reason was she jealous of you. She was perfect.

“Good! Ready to go back to everyday life, you?” You answered smiling at her. There was no way to hate her, you couldn't. You could envy her, sure, but in no way could you hate her. There was no reason to.

“A little stressed out but I can't wait to get married. It was more difficult than expected but my dream is coming true, you know? I'm not giving up now.” A laugh escaped her lips and joy was visible on her face. 

You smiled and looked at Calum quickly, making sure he was still there. His body was mainly turned towards her but his gaze was on you. 

He would have never left you anymore, He had lost you once and he wanted to make sure that that would never happen again. An awareness was making its way into his body, his mind was realizing that something, someone was wrong.

Things were about to change, someone would suffer but someone else was going to be happy forever. Things would no longer stay that way. It was time for things to go in the right way and he knew it.

It had been your laugh, your presence or maybe even your absence, but Calum finally understood.

What he didn't know, though, was that yes, things were about to change, but not for the better. He would be the one to suffer this time. 

“Wait, is that a ring I see on your finger?” The girl said pointing to your left hand and making a little cry of joy. Your gaze shifted to the ring that now occupied your finger, a small smile formed on your face but your heart didn't seem to reciprocate the feeling. The gaze of the boy was now pointed at your hand.

Something changed. 

In Tokyo, precisely, an angel had come down from heaven and stretched out his hand to you. And the sun was shining again, the cherry trees were filled with flowers and life was less disgusting. Your heart was full and not even the return trip could make your mood worse, because you were not alone anymore. The days were full of color again and the world no longer seemed black and white. Your future was full of hope, love, happiness. And you wouldn't have been hurt anymore, maybe, for a while.

A stranger had suddenly arrived in your life, with a happy smile and open arms, ready to pick up all your pieces and show you that you were worth it. He had made you see that everything would turn out for the best, ending up filling your heart with joy and love. It had been sudden, like Calum's proposal, but this surprise had been positive. 

Then he had given you a ring, a promise ring, not for a wedding - it was too early, although the feelings were growing fast - but to promise you that he would be there, as long as there was a chance. That he wouldn't hurt you and that he would take care of you. That he would love you, whatever love is. He promised you that everything would be fine.

“Yes, it's a promise ring.” You smiled thinking about it. You were happy, right? Yes, you were. You were happy, you had to be. Someone was loving you. Still, there was something different, but this wasn't the right time to think about it, after all, you still had to get used to this big change.

Of course, the feelings for the guy in front of you would always remain, for years you were convinced that he was your soulmate, but things had gone differently. And it didn't have to be a bad thing. Finally you would be happy, not together, but still side by side. There was no more reason to run away, you could continue being friends now, without excessive feelings or broken hearts.

Calum's world, however, had collapsed. It had rolled over, traveled at the speed of light and collided with his biggest fear, and it was destroyed. Not to mention his heart, reduced to thousands of bits that not even the strongest glue would be able to reattach together. His chest really hurted, as did his stomach and head, and the flu from several months ago seemed nothing in comparison. Even the mornings when he woke up with a hangover didn't hurt that much, because that pain passed. This, however, would never pass. 

Calum was in love with you. Deeply, with all of himself. He didn't want to admit it at first,it would have caused a huge disaster, but he couldn't keep lying to himself, it wouldn't do him any good. 

Sure, he had feelings for his girlfriend, but it wasn't you. And he had noticed it. He used to believe that the strong affection he felt towards you was just affection, but the months in your absence had been devastating, and it wasn't normal. He wouldn't have suffered so much for a mutual friend, but for you it was different. 

He loved you, and how deeply he loved you. Just a few minutes before he was ready to kiss you, no guilt assaulting him and he was ready to throw away months of wedding preparations for you.

It was you now, however, who no longer loved him. And the pain he felt was probably what you had felt over a year ago when it broke your heart. It was his fault, however, that he had come too late to a conclusion that everyone had come before. 

He loved you, but you loved another, and Calum knew there was nothing more to be done now.

You would have remained friends, sure, but things would definitely change now. Before, at least, there was a chance to go back. He would not get married and his kitchen would be filled with the smell of biscuits again, accompanied by the scattered flour and your dirty clothes, victims of food wars and laughs.

But now you too were engaging with another person and those moments seemed to drift further away and to belong to a distant, unattainable, unique past.

And while you and his fiancée - a name that no longer made him smile - happily talked about your news, Calum thought there was nothing more to be done.

He could have pulled back, but for what purpose? To spend a life alone? Maybe, one day his heart would start beating again for what would become his wife and in the meantime he would give her joy, because she deserved it. She would take care of him and he wouldn't spend sleepless nights in bed alone. 

So Calum drank what was left in his glass in one gulp and apologizing to th two of you, he went over to the drink table and opened a new bottle. And as the alcohol dripped into his glass, tears streamed down his face, mixing with the drink he held in his hand. He didn't even bother wiping them, he was with his back to people and away from anyone who could see him, and he just stood there for a moment, hating himself and hating you, for being so damn beautiful and in love with another, for making his heart beating again just to break it,but the truth was that there was no way he could hate you. 

He loved you too much and he was ready to sacrifice everything to see you happy, even himself. 

“It’s gonna get better, mate.” Someone softly whispered behind him before hugging him.

Ashton had witnessed everything from afar, had seen his friends in love, ready to conquer the world together, and then he had seen them hurt themselves, destroy their happiness for each other, unaware that there was no reason to do so. And even his heart ached.

Calum continued to cry, trying not to attract attention and letting himself be held by his best friend.

Was everything really going to be better?

-----

[izziegs]

Okay so TMA 187 analysis here, a bit more “Jon’s judgment of Helen was not entirely correct” from another Spiral fan

1. I think Jon’s analysis of Helen is (ha ha) distorted by A) his desire to justify her death despite her friendliness, and B) automatically made untrustworthy by the fact that Jon has never understood the Distortion. Helen has expressed before that him Knowing things about her is not the same as Understanding things, and he’s made it very clear before that he does not Understand (MD and HD are fusions, essentially. Combinations of the Spiral’s manifestation: the Distortion, and a human. In the same way Garnet is a combo of Ruby and Sapphire but not truly either of them, Helen Distortion has Helen Richardson in her, but is not actually Helen Richardson. She is both Helen and not, and was never Michael, though the Distortion was. Honestly, Jon, it’s not complicated)

2. We even saw this with Michael - I can’t forget that Jon assumed the Distortion was just a manifestation of the Spiral, not an avatar, and he seemed to take the revelation that Michael Shelley was an assistant as a sort of...betrayal, almost? Something that definitely threw off his idea of good-bad, where even though avatars could be bad their humanity kept them from becoming as monstrous as Michael, and the sudden shock of hearing otherwise, of seeing what he could become...I don’t think he ever bounced back from that.

3. Jon has always seen the worst in Helen. In 115, she came back to him for emotional help/venting/advice/connection and he lashed out at her, scared of seeing her become like Michael, still sore from betrayal from the Stranger, etc. From the get-go he decided this was just a Thing using Helen’s face, and even when she immediately told him otherwise, he rejected it. (“I don’t believe you” - “I have never told you a lie”) He chalked her vulnerability up to manipulation, and has never truly turned his view of her away from that initial assessment

4. 131 shows a lot of the same (“You’re still wearing her face” - “I’m not ‘wearing’ anything”) This episode Helen deliberately pushes against Jon’s desire to neatly separate them into bad and good, something Melanie pulls them away from to refocus on Jared

5. 143 doesn’t have them fight quite as much, though Jon does still seem very suspicious. Helen just shows up to eat Manuela and give Jon and Basira a door home

6. 157 - aka the day Jon uses as justification he was right Helen was never on his side even though it is One Thing. They’ve met four times prior to this and he’s been mean to her every time. I can understand her abstaining from helping him, especially when she thinks the end result will help her, and double especially when helping Jon would put her directly on the bad side of two very powerful avatars (Also, as Helen said, “If that makes it my fault, then surely this is Georgie’s fault as well, and Melanie’s-”. AFAIK, he’s not upholding that as proof those two are bad and against him)

7. Post-apocalypse, Helen tries to give Jon the advice he refused to give her. When she was fully accepting her avatar status, she just wanted someone she thought could help her, and now she’s trying to be that person for Jon. Hearing her later desire to keep the world as is, it would also make sense that she might’ve been trying to get him to agree with her, however, unlikely, so they could continue “helping” each other/wouldn’t have to have that inevitable fight. Something else notable about her in the Eye’s world: she forces Jon to stop withholding info from Martin. She forces them to talk about difficult topics (Smiting powers, where’s Basira/how is she, Martin’s domain) and had essentially become a more reliable source of info than Jon is. While her popping up was beneficial to Martin, it was annoying to Jon, and possibly also part of why he continued not liking her.

8. Now all of that, looking at 187: Again, Jon very quickly establishes that he doesn’t understand how Helen works (“I am not [Michael], and never have been. Surely you know all this by now”) and then explicitly says he is currently making judgments based on feeling instead of logic (which is not a new development, looking at his choices since The Eye Opens). 

Here I’m going to go over a few of his specific lines from 187:

“Now you use her form, see her mind, but they’re just… tools.” - If that were true, there’d be no reason Helen would act completely differently than Michael did. If this were just a monster using a human’s mind for manipulation advice, why have a totally new personality? Helen is Helen, but Jon’s still stuck in his season 3 mindset

“Michael had nothing you could use but a razor-straight desire for vengeance, but you saw something in Helen that would work on me much more subtly. So you took her” - Bold of Jon to assume Helen taking over the Distortion was that influenced by him, lol. If the Distortion wanted you done for Jonathan, they’d have just kept Michael and let him eat you like he planned. Not everything’s about you.

“How long have you been working with Elias?” - This one is interesting because if he knows everything, he should’ve known whether or not Helen knew Elias (unless he assumed she could get into the Panopticon where he can’t see). Michael knew Elias, pre-Distortion, but Helen’s not talked to him. Jon didn’t think Jude Perry was working for Elias, despite her clear revelry in the new world. I think it’s weird he assumed that about Helen (unless he was also using that to justify her death)

Her commentary during his statement is funny, but interesting. The perfect time to attack him if she really wanted to, if she really had been building up to that like he thought she was, and she spends the time joking about him and Martin living in a Honeymoon Suite in her apocalypse hotel

“Is a friendship true, or is it reaching out with hands that cut you?” - Another interesting line to me because when Michael told Sasha he wanted to be her friend he deliberately manipulated his hand so that he could hold her hand without cutting her

“You worked to hurt us and help us, all with the same smile, until we can barely tell one from the other” - I think Jon is talking about Michael and Helen as one person in this part, but specifically with Helen she literally didn’t hurt you Jon she had one time she didn’t help 

“Never quite crossing a line we could never forgive, but never putting yourself on the line either.” - Yeah, Jon, that’s what most people would do, tbh. It’s not unforgivable that she didn’t put her life on the line to help someone who has only ever been mean to her. Actually, she helped him more than most people would if treated that way

“It’s not me I’m worried about” - Another interesting line because even as he’s killing her, Helen’s final threat is to hold him in the halls until the End eventually gets his friends. She never threatens to harm any of them (because they’re her friends) - Edit: I can see how it could be interpreted as her threatening them buttt idk if she can kill them in the new world so I assumed it was End related. Still no empty threats, no real lies from her yet - Also, I think she genuinely does not want to kill Martin or Jon, she wants them to turn so they can all be friends without those messy ~moral hangups~

“If you do this, everyone inside me is dead!” - I wonder if this is true. I can’t tell if Jon was the only one that fell out of the halls in front of Martin. It’s not like the other domains, where taking the avatar in charge may usher in a new one. The Distortion was Helen. If this sentence is true, then Jon just murdered that mom and very possibly orphaned that five-year-old. Not just gonna brush that one off there

“Its hidden teeth and the ones it wears so proudly.” - Even in the end Jon still Doesn’t Get It. He still thinks the Distortion is pretending to be Helen. Was pretending to be Michael. As much as he should be an all-knowing being, he clearly still rejects what he doesn’t like

I don’t have a specific quote but Jon acting like the Distortion has had a constant motivation or like, consistent desire (outside of “cause problems for fun”) is wild because Michael explicitly told Jon he didn’t want the Watcher’s Crown to happen. Michael was going to kill Jon to stop it. He was on the exact side Jon is on right now. But I guess it’s easy for Jon to paint him as evil when the roles were revered, huh?

If you’re still reading this, uh. Hi. I really really like the Distortion (Michael and Helen) and I am Very Upset with Jon right now

Edit: This is not an argument on whether or not Helen was evil or if Jon was right to kill her too to save the world. She was absolutely evil and I can see why Jon felt her death was necessary I'm just saying he was wrong about her lying to him

[fandom-space-princess]

Every Day's Most Quiet Need

midam week prompt 5: whisper - (v) speak very softly using one's breath without one's vocal cords, especially for the sake of privacy/(n) a soft or confidential tone of voice; a whispered word or phrase

Rating: Teen [2.5k words, a tiny bit h/c, mostly just sort of sweet]

Some things can't be spoken aloud. The only way to get them out is to say them as softly as you can.

read below the cut, or on AO3

When Adam thinks of whispers, he thinks of Michael's wings.

-----

"Michael? Why are you shivering?"

Maybe a silly question. The Cage is cold. An understatement, of course, but trying to hyperbolize about it has never taken the sting out. No matter how Adam tries to wrap it up in description, thinking of it as frozen as the Arctic tundra or the original ice cube or goddamn Minneapolis in February is never enough to distract from bitter reality.

So: the Cage is cold.

Shouldn't matter, though, and usually it doesn't. Michael is an inferno inside his chest, and he runs hot even by angelic standards (at least, according to him; not that Adam has any basis for comparison). Adam barely registers the frigidity of the place, and as far as he knows the cold bothers Michael not at all, either from his vantage in Adam's head or, as he's taken to doing more and more lately, manifesting as a separate presence.

Not that he's really asked. They've been down here for close to two hundred years, and it's only the last fifty or so that the rapport between them has been something resembling friendly.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it." Michael curls himself up smaller near the wall of the Cage, knees clasped to his chest, and slips into what Adam has privately begun to refer to as his Stoic Angel Face. The juxtaposition strikes him as odd: this intense, commanding creature, tucked into the corner like a human child, tight with tension, but wearing an expression that would seem more at home on a commander of armies, or carved into a mountainside.

Adam has been looking at Michael for two centuries, though. He's getting good at spotting the cracks in his masks.

He settles himself down next to Michael, a bare few inches separating them. "Ok. Say I believe you. You're still pretty clearly uncomfortable right now. Can I... is there anything I can do to help?" He rests a hand cautiously on Michael's arm, watching his face closely. Doesn't miss the flicker of Michael's eyes to where they touch, then away again, tight and guilty like he doesn't want Adam to see.

He leans into it, though, and Adam shifts to press into his side, shoulder to shoulder.

This close, he can feel the fine shivers still running through Michael's frame. Can make out the shallowness of his breathing.

"Michael. Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't usually hang around out here when you want to be left alone. So what's up?"

Michael sighs. "As you say, I am merely uncomfortable. I — the last time we fought —" He nods across the Cage, at the far shadowy corner where Lucifer broods in solitude, "— I sustained a few... minor injuries. Injuries I am incapable of healing except by waiting for my grace to recover. In much the same way as your body would heal naturally."

Adam blinks. He doesn't know what he'd expected, but that — that wasn't it. Lucifer and Michael often scrap with each other. When they first arrived, it had been out of genuine fury. But as they have settled into a more permanent resignation to life in this place, Adam has come to suspect that their ongoing fighting is mostly out of habit, and frustration.

At least now they do it in their own forms. Being conscripted into participation on a physical level, especially when Sam had still been present, had not been among Adam's favorite activities.

He casts his gaze over Michael, critically. "You don't look injured anywhere that I can see. Is it — it's an angel thing, isn't it."

"Yes." Michael fidgets against the wall. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Another bitter sigh. With a face like he regrets ever consenting to participate in this conversation at all, Michael mutters, "My wings hurt."

"Your... oh." He understands, suddenly, why Michael is reluctant to talk about this. While there is no longer any aspect of each other that either of them is uncomfortable with, at least on a physical level (Adam's body has been home to both archangelic grace and human soul for an order of magnitude longer than he had ever occupied it alone), Michael's wings aren't entirely physical, even by his particularly lax definition of the term. They're tied up too closely with his grace, with his power, with his place in Heaven and the burdens that come with it. Adam has seen them, time to time, out of the corner of his eye. Knows that Michael can and does manifest them when he's coping with some severe emotion.

Usually violence. Or fear.

He fidgets again, and shivers, and the emotionless mask he tries to keep in place is betrayed by the tightness around his eyes. Adam realizes that he's never seen Michael look quite so shaky, quite so miserable. How much pain does it take, he wonders, to make the Sword of Heaven look like he wants nothing more than to sink into merciful unconsciousness?

Which is a good point, actually.

"I know you've gotten in fights before, bad ones. I've never seen you like this." He nudges Michael gently with his shoulder. "What's so different now? Is it that we're stuck here, something about the Cage?"

"No, it's... well. To be blunt: I have never injured part of my noncorporeal form this badly while also possessing a corporeal one." His voice has dropped to a low murmur, and Adam tilts his head closer. He's curled in on himself, as though making himself as small as he can. "If I were to leave you, I could tend to the problem much more quickly. Given our circumstances, that would likely be unpleasant for me, and fatal for you." His eyes dart to Adam, then away again.

Oh.

"You'd rather be in pain then risk hurting me?" Adam asks softly.

A scowl is all the acknowledgement he gets for his trouble, before Michael returns to staring fixedly off into the middle distance.

"I care about you too, you know," he says. He rests a hand on the archangel's arm again, in reassurance. Once again, he leans into the contact, a response which seems almost involuntary.

Interesting.

Testing a theory, Adam leans back against the wall of the Cage. Slowly, allowing Michael time to object if desired, he stretches an arm out and settles it lightly over his shoulders. Michael goes utterly still, and Adam wonders if he's made a mistake. He's about to draw back, offer an apology, when some measure of the tension leaves Michael's frame and he relaxes fractionally against Adam.

"You'd tell me if there was anything I could do to help, right? I want to know, if there is."

"I don't want to presume upon you further than I already have. Given time, I'll be fine."

"So there is something. Come on, halo, out with it. Let me help."

Michael frowns, then shivers again, appears to reach a decision.

"Fine." He uncoils himself from Adam's embrace, and moves to kneel a few feet away. Pointedly meets Adam's gaze, and holds it, as if in challenge.

A crackle like embers from a fire along his skin, raising goosebumps over his arms, and a soft displacement of air. And then —

— he's seen them before, of course, but never dead on like this. Michael's wings are gigantic, and beautiful: the soft grey of storm clouds, fading to a darker slate blue at the tips of the largest feathers. Threads of silver and steel grey etch through them, and they refract the dim light oddly, half-translucent, as though they only partially exist in this plane. Which, now that Adam thinks about it, they probably do.

They're also a mess. From where he sits, Adam can see patches of broken and scorched feathers, clumps of dried blood and sulfur, places where the flesh has started to heal badly. A pang of sympathy, like a lightning bolt through his chest, and he's extending one hand out toward Michael on impulse before he realizes what he's doing.

"You can't reach them, can you? While you're possessing me? That's what you meant."

Michael's eyes track his hand, the aborted gesture hanging in midair. His face and posture have gone closed-off, rigid, like Adam might change his mind at the last moment and strike him instead. "The metaphor is imperfect, but that's essentially accurate. In Heaven, I could tend my own form. Here, my options are... limited."

Adam slides closer, until he sits at his side, facing him. Watching Michael for any sign of distress or hesitation, he extends his hand until the tips of his fingers brush a patch of uninjured feathers over his shoulder. They're softer than they look, and they buzz faintly under his touch, a barely perceptible hum of bioelectric feedback.

Jaw clenched, Michael looks away. Nods once. Presses the wing forward against Adam's hand.

"I'm going to clean the injured parts as much as I can, ok?" Adam says gently, trying to catch Michael's gaze. When that fails, he reaches out to clasp a hand to his shoulder, squeezes once. "Let me know if I should stop."

He grazes his fingertips over one of the burned patches, and Michael hisses, flinching away.

"No," he responds immediately as Adam draws back by reflex. He catches Adam's hand in one of his own, lightning quick, and shakes his head. Deliberately presses the hand back against the scorched feathers. A wince, but his eyes lock on Adam's. "You won't hurt me." His voice falls to nearly a whisper, and his hand drops away. "Please."

This time, when Adam touches him, he is still.

The damage is extensive, and Michael's wings are... well, there's a lot of ground to cover. Adam suspects that he's not getting the whole picture, somehow; that what he sees are only the parts of himself that Michael has chosen (or, perhaps, is able) to bring forward into this plane. That there might, in truth, be more injuries over more of him — and in more dimensions — than Adam's mind is capable of perceiving.

He hums as he works, fingers combing careful through clumps of feathers. Straightening those healthy enough to be salvaged, pulling away bits of dried blood and occasionally tugging free those feathers too bent or broken to be saved. Michael makes a low, pained sound deep in his chest at the first one, and Adam presses his hands back to the space immediately, soothing.

To get his mind off it, Adam speaks. "So, what, you'd do this yourself in Heaven? Or the — I dunno, whatever the metaphysical equivalent of grooming your wings is for angels?"

Michael leans into him, hip pressed to thigh and shoulder against his arm. "Yes. They'd heal more quickly if I was, as you say, able to 'reach' them. But much of my grace is currently constrained within your form. The ways in which I can manifest and manipulate it are comparatively limited."

"But you'd always do that for yourself? Not that a ton of the angels I've met seemed too friendly —" He snorts, thinking of Zachariah. "I wouldn't blame you if you were picky about who you let get that close. But you must have had someone."

For a moment, Michael goes tense against him, and his face clouds. Then it passes, as though it had never been. "No," he says, clearly unwilling to elaborate.

Adam doesn't press the issue. He leans back on his heels, then stands, stretches. "You doing ok? I should do the back." Michael nods up at him, from his place on the floor, and Adam circles behind him. Taps him on the shoulder. "Stop kneeling there and sit down." His voice is light, teasing. "I'm going to need all the height advantage I can get on your ridiculous, massive wings."

It startles a chuckle out of Michael, and Adam grins to himself. Michael settles near his feet, and Adam resumes carding through the wings. He starts at the tips and works inward, down along the leading edge, gradually moving back toward Michael's body.

When he's close enough, Michael relaxes back against his legs. Almost like he doesn't realize he's doing it, Adam thinks. He doesn't mention it, and when he moves away to start on the outer edge of the other wing, the quality of the silence between them is different than before. The pain seems to be fading, and Michael no longer shivers, but some less definite emotion is rooting in its place, something quieter and almost sorrowful.

When Adam kneels behind him to reach the places closest to Michael's body, he can feel the difference. It's in the way the wings press eagerly into his hands, rather than shying away. In the way the angel tilts back into him, posture more relaxed than Adam has seen him — maybe ever.

Adam encourages him, pressing his weight in turn against Michael's back. As levelly and casually as he can, he says, "What about the others? I was under the impression that you guys were, well, close. A family. For whatever that means for you."

"Heaven is not —" Michael tenses, but Adam just leans more firmly against him, fingers moving soothingly over his wings, and after a moment he relents. His words sound fragile, hollow, and his voice is almost too quiet to hear. As though speaking this too loudly would be too much, would mean acknowledging something he was unwilling or unable to acknowledge. "We aren't like humans; we don't interact like you do. We don't — we don't touch each other. Except to fight." He glances furtively across the Cage. In that moment, Adam sees a glimpse of his deeper nature, the weight of an impossible stretch of time on this being as old as the universe. "Once, perhaps. But not for a very long time."

Adam says nothing. Nothing needs to be said.

He sits against the wall of the Cage, spreads his legs out, and tugs at Michael's waist. Michael's wings vanish, and he turns his head to speak, but Adam cuts him off.

"Don't argue with me, ok? Just come over here."

Michael lets himself be pulled along, until he rests between Adam's legs. He leans back against his chest, and fidgets for a few moments. Then Adam curls his arms around his waist, and he settles.

"You deserve to be touched in something other than violence," he murmurs, chin hooked over Michael's shoulder. He runs hands down his arms, until their fingers twine together, pressing close to Michael's body. "Don't give me that 'not like humans' line. Just stay here with me for a few minutes."

He has no power to hold Michael here against his will, he knows. He could vanish, fly off, simply stand up and walk away — he is far stronger than Adam will ever be.

But Adam holds him, the only comfort he has to offer.

And Michael, a silent weight against his chest, doesn't move away.

[tabloidtoc]

Life & Style, April 26

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Khloe Kardashian is a total fake

Page 1: Lady Gaga in a wedding dress on the set of House of Gucci in Rome

Page 2: Contents

Page 4: The Top 10 SAG Awards Looks -- Mindy Kaling, Jamie Chung, Amy Adams, Sarah Levy, Kerry Washington

Page 5: Kaley Cuoco, Nicole Kidman, Natalie Morales, Viola Davis, Lily Collins

Page 6: Tom Brady and Gisele Bundchen celebrated their 12-year anniversary, posting heartfelt tributes to each other on social media, but their relationship hasn't always been so rock solid -- Tom admitted that Gisele has made a lot of sacrifices for their marriage and she hated living in Boston because she had no friends there and felt so alone because Tom was never around; things got so bad they sought counseling, which was the wake-up call that Tom needed -- he promised to make changes and he agreed to quit the Patriots and sign with a team in a location that was more desirable to Gisele and Tom stuck to his word and he came the new quarterback for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and since moving to Florida, Tom and Gisele have never been happier and they have date nights every week and always make sure to communicate -- it wasn't easy, but they're both really proud of how far they've come

Page 7: After multiple delays, David Schwimmer, Courteney Cox, Jennifer Aniston, Lisa Kudrow, Matthew Perry and Matt LeBlanc have finally filmed the highly anticipated Friends reunion special and they all got really emotional when they saw the set and being there brought back so many fond memories -- it's the first time in 17 years that fans will get to see the entire cast together since the show went off the air in 2004 -- afterwards, everyone went to Jen's house for dinner -- each of the stars was paid $2.5 million to appear in the special

* Throwback -- Dolly Parton in 1965

* Biggest Spenders of the Week -- Bobby Flay, Aaron Rodgers, Vanessa Hudgens, Angelina Jolie

Page 8: Drew Barrymore revealed that, after three divorces and a string of failed romances, she's sworn off marriage altogether -- Drew doesn't need a man to feel complete and she's happiest hanging out with family and friends -- if the right guy comes along later down the line, great, but for now, she's content with being single

* Becoming one of the most sought-after stars in Hollywood has gone straight to Ana de Armas' head -- the cast and crew are often left waiting for the actress to emerge from her trailer on the set of the new action thriller The Gray Man -- Ana's got a lot going on and she's juggling several different projects, as well as photo shoots and phone calls with her team and people don't stay mad at her for too long, but they have nicknamed her Ana de Diva, but she isn't upset by the scathing moniker because she's a big name now, and with that comes a lot of responsibility and the way she sees it, there are worse things than being called a diva

Page 10: The Week in Photos -- Orlando Bloom got a surprise visit from the Easter Bunny

Page 11: Jennifer Lopez in jeans at a photoshoot for InStyle, Priyanka Chopra dancing around her backyard in a bright yellow dress

Page 12: Animal Tales -- Gilles Marini posed for a pic with his African grey parrot Anya, singer Madison Beer leaned in for a kiss from a caramel-colored stallion, Kate Beckinsale's feline Clive seemed less than thrilled when Kate strapped him to her chest in a carrier

Page 13: Kaia Gerber and her precious pooch Milo snuggled up in bed, Malin Akerman and a goat

Page 16: Stars Behaving Badly -- Lisa Vanderpump let her parched dog drink from her water glass at a restaurant in West Hollywood, Maisie Williams went topless under a translucent jacket while shooting a new TV series about the Sex Pistols in London, HGTV Design Star host Allison Holker used a megaphone to give out instructions to Property Brother Jonathan Scott on the show's finale, Calvin Klein wasn't worried about stains when he shoved a pile of spaghetti into his mouth at West Hollywood's Mauro Cafe

Page 18: Say What?! Helena Bonham Carter who turns 55 in May, Chelsea Handler who admits she consumes mushrooms almost every day, Olivia Munn who is the proud pet parent of rescue dogs Frankie and Chance, Melissa McCarthy on doing her own stunts in Thunder Force, Brian Tyree Henry on Godzilla vs. Kong co-star Millie Bobby Brown

Page 20: Pete Davidson has officially moved out of his mother's home and into a $1.2 million luxury high-rise condo on Staten Island, and it's all thanks to his new girl girlfriend, Bridgerton star Phoebe Dynevor -- the Saturday Night Live star showed off his two-bedroom, two-and-a-half bathroom bachelor pad during a Zoom call -- Phoebe is a down-to-earth girl, but she doesn't want to date a man who lives in his mom's basement and she thinks Pete's mom, Amy, is awesome and says it's a great thing that they're super close, but being in a long-distance relationship is difficult enough so Pete and Phoebe need some alone time when they're together, which was almost impossible with his mother hanging out upstairs -- Pete knew it was time; he just needed that gentle nudge

Page 21: Matt James and Rachael Kirkconnell were spotted in NYC together, sparking speculation that the former Bachelor couple have rekindled their relationship -- the pair parted ways while the show was still airing after photos of the graphic designer at a plantation-themed college party in 2018 surfaced on social media -- Rachael made a mistake but she owned up to it and was willing to learn from it and it didn't change her feelings for Matt or vice versa and Matt was in love with Rachael too and he couldn't just turn those feelings off so no one would be surprised if they decided to reconcile

* Michael B. Jordan's girlfriend Lori Harvey was left reeling over photos of the actor sharing a smooch with Chante Adams on the set of their new movie A Journal for Jordan -- of course, they were just shooting a scene for the film, but Lori was still annoyed and she asked Michael about it, and he brushed it off and explained it was part of the job but Lori still has her suspicions and she's been thinking about dropping by the set just so she can keep a very close eye on them

Page 22: Cover Story -- Khloe Kardashian living a lie -- devastated by an unretouched photo leak, Khloe faces claims she's a body positivity hypocrite as she demands the viral image be taken down

Page 26: Alex Rodriguez to Ben Affleck: Back off my fiancee -- Ben gushes about ex Jennifer Lopez in a new article and A-Rod isn't happy about it (not quite Bennifer yet :)

Page 28: Prince Harry overwhelmed with work -- Harry struggles to adjust after trading his cushy royal role for a variety of normal gigs -- though his job for BetterUp is primarily remote, added stress comes in the form of Harry's Spotify and Netflix deals, plus growing charity work -- Harry finds all of his new, non-royal titles fresh and exciting, but while he's a great person, some in his inner circle say Harry's kind of dumb and worry whether he can handle the pressure

Page 30: Lori Loughlin and Mossimo Giannulli life after prison -- reunited following months spent behind bars, Lori and Mossimo try to pick up the pieces -- prison definitely took a toll on Mossimo and he doesn't expect sympathy, but he's still struggling to adjust to what he went through; it really broke him down and forced him to reevaluate his life

Page 32: Who Lives Here? Lil Nas X

Page 34: Entertainment

Page 35: Star Review -- Jonathan Van Ness

* As Seen On-Screen -- Meghan Markle wore a dark green coat while walking through Archie's Chick-Inn during her CBS interview which was J. Crew's Perfect Lightweight Jacket

Page 36: Go Green at Home -- reduce your carbon footprint even more with these eco-chic essentials, because our planet can use all the help it can get

Page 37: Beauty Crush -- get Jurnee Smollett's look from her makeup artist Emily Cheng for the SAG Awards

Page 38: Spring Beauty Must-Haves -- these product picks aim to reign as new-season favorites -- Camila Mendes

Page 40: Diva or Down-to-Earth? Rihanna bagged her own haul at Bristol Farms in Beverly Hills -- down-to-earth, Shay Mitchell worked from home with help from her most trusted assistant daughter Atlas -- down-to-earth, during a photo shoot in Malibu Brooke Burke got a makeup refresh from a personal primper -- diva

Page 42: Social Stars Posts of the Week -- Sofia Vergara sneaking Heidi Klum a chip on the set of America's Got Talent, Neil Patrick Harris finished the first season of The Irregulars while quarantining in Toronto, Jared Leto pretended to pluck the moon straight out of the sky during a masked outing in Italy, Beyonce treated her daughter Blue Ivy to a meal at Nobu in Malibu

Page 44: Horoscope -- Taurus Gigi Hadid turned 26 on April 23

* They're Not Together, But They Should Be -- Capricorn Charles Melton and Virgo Zendaya

Page 48: What I'm Into -- Kameron Westcott of The Real Housewives of Dallas

[cicinicole-14]

Hi for the ship thing and headcanons, please do jolex 🥰

Who is a night owl:

dont get me wrong, they both most definitely will stay up late together or both pass out before 9pm on a Friday night, but some days when the depression hits, its jsut different and Jo is definitely more of the night owl. Alex is more of a morning person and Jo would rather sleep like the dead. 

Who is a morning person:

as we’ve discovered, more so Alex esp when they have kiddos. Alex is the one to get up with them early and let Jo sleep, he makes breakfast with the kids’ help and keeps their room quiet for jo to get some extra sleep but will unleash their evil spawns when he deems she’s slept in long enough. 

Are they cuddlers:

some days, yes, mostly. jo definitely loves the affection from someone who genuinely loves and wants her back. but there are days where she literally is like “do not come near me with your (temperature) hot body Alexander Michael Karev, you are a heater and I am already too warm” 

Who is the big spoon and who is the little spoon:

Alex is def the big spoon. Jo likes cuddling into him because sh feels safe, he feels like home. but she def has big spooned him too it’s a 50/50 relationship we have equal roles people

What is their favourite sleeping position:

no lie, both spread out like starfish in their bed. 

Who steals all the blankets: 

Jo. Alex is a space heater and doesnt need blankets she freezes and likes being snuggled up and warm

What they wear to bed:

I mean some nights, nothing, but like jo def loves Alex’s old Iowa state shirts or his wrestling shirts from HS that smell like him. an old worn in t-shirt, anything with a pair of booty shorts or his boxers even. and Alex will just wear a t-shirt and boxers or flannels in the winter. 

Who likes seeing the other wearing their t-shirt:

Alex wholeheartedly loves when jo wears his shirts unless its his favorite flannel and she steals it “come on, jo. you know that’s my favorite one. I wear it all the time.” its exactly why she takes it. 

Who falls asleep mid-conversation:

jo, unintentionally. sometimes the insomnia hits and she won’t have slept for a couple days so when life catches back up to her she will fall asleep randomly. even more so while pregnant and right after their daughter is born. she just “night night Josephine” 

Who wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares:

they both have their fair share of horrid nightmares. Alex’s deal a lot with his trauma of growing up. his mom pulling various knives on his siblings and dad attacking them. even nightmares of jo leaving him like Izzie did and he wakes up without her. 

jo’s are terrifying as well. she dreams that Paul’s death was just an illusion and that hes still out there and he’ll still come and get her. she wakes up drenched in a cold sweat and Alex holds her and they pull up his death certificate on the gsm database to prove it. she also has nightmares about being abandoned again. dreams of herself as a baby, dreams of her mother leaving her at that firestation. horrid nightmares. and Alex just holds her. she also has many nightmares about Alex abandoning her too just like her mother abandoned her but he’s never done that he’s always there when she wakes up and everything is okay again

Who accidentally punched the other in their sleep:

jo is an absolute horrible bed partner. she does NOT sleep still. she will move around so much during sleep its dangerous. yes, Alex did wake up with a bruise across his cheek one night from an elbow to the face...

Who can’t keep their hands to themself:

both of them. theyre notorious horndogs no autocorrect they are not corndogs please stop correcting me when you’re wrong 

and just because, im throwing in the parenting meme one too bc my heart melts

packs the lunches

Alex. he gets up with the kids in the mornings and also we do not trust jo to make their children food. she’d feed them boxed Mac n cheese and take out the entirety of their lives. and while they love that and Alex wouldn’t care if it was jsut them, their kids need real food. he packs them lunchables and uncrustables but at least its a little more of a variety. 

blows raspberries while cuddling

jo, more so. they both do, but jo LOVES a good chunky baby belly she can blow raspberries onto. and yes she leaves maroon lipstick marks on chubby cheeks and bellies. 

is the tickle monster

Alex. and she runs to mommy to save her from daddy! “oh, now you want mommy, huh? as soon as daddy is the tickle monster all you want is mommy? not when I wanted cuddles, or we picked you up from daycare or I dont know, I gave birth to you and wanted snuggles you cry and want daddy but now hes the tickle monster you want me?” and jo scoops her up and tries saving her but ultimately they lose and get attacked in their very large bed by the tickle monster. 

gives life lesson speeches

they both do just depending on the situations. 

when the girls start dating, jo sits them all down separately, and explains to them a bit of her past. letting them know that no man should ever lay hands on them. she teaches them how to defend themselves and Alex ofc shows them in example how women should be treated. Alex makes it clear that if a guy or girl ever should treat his daughters or his son in any other way than he treats jo, that he needs to know and gOD forbiD one of them lay a finger on one of his children there WILL be hell to pay. jo obviously consoles him in front of her children but tells him “u already have a record. if anyone lays hands on our children I will be putting them in the ground not you”

kisses the boo-boos

Alex he is a pushover and 100% makes sure all boo-boos are kissed and even when the kids are way too old for having their boo-boos kissed, he makes sure the bandaids that are no longer avengers or dinosaur or unicorn or princess themed, have been properly kissed. even through protests of “dad, im not five anymore I dont need my bandaids kissed” “how do you expect them to heal, then, CJ? you’re my most clumsy kid, and I have had to kiss all your boo-boos and never once have I not. thats why you’re still in once piece” 

breaks the bad news

jo makes Alex do it most times. she claims she’s the fun parent and tries to stay the fun parent by making Alex break bad news like “we cannot get another dog” she blames it on Alex but then brings home a puppy the following week. 

joins the PTA

listen. LISTEN. when Greyson started big kid school, in kindergarten, they placed her in private school to give her everything they didnt have growing up. jo was determined to make sure she gave her daughter everything made sure she felt loved and was spoiled it was terrible. so jo, of course, sent her to Seattle Elementary academy and was not paying attention when she signed some forms signing up to be in the PTA. she loathed it so much and “Alex im sorry I cant do this. I know we wanted to give Gracie everything we didnt have growing up but I cant take it I cant take the private school. the volunteer hours the strict dress code violations? she is FIVE. I also have to volunteer FORTY HOURS this year alone. no! I am a surgeon, a mother of two and im pregnant! I do not have time for this! all these PTA moms are stay at home moms who have nothing better to do than gossip about their neighbors and drink wine. and I swear to god if I have to hear about Jessica’s fucking essential oils pyramid scheme one more time I will shove those oils so far up her a––” “Jo! Look, Ali, mommy’s here!” Alex interrupts her just in time. he doesnt blame her. those private school moms are quiet the handful. every time, one of them has the nerve to hit on him. “and I swear, if one more of those moms hits on you in front of me, im going to backhand her with my engagement ring on. no hate to most of them, but theyre too much” they end up ending Gracie, and Ali and the rest of the kids to public school just like they had grown up in and did just fine. 

crashes sleepovers with embarrassing stories

oh one hundred and ten percent Alexander Michael Karev. he will find any moment to break out embarrassing stories and photos. hell, even when Zola, Bailey, ellis, Sofia, Harriet, scout, any of the bunch come over he’ll embarrass them too!  

gives the crazy nicknames

not really either of them (that ive figured out in the moment) (the kkc kids do not have crazy nicknames yet) (we jsut have Gracie for Greyson, Ali for Alice, and CJ for Cristina Jo. Alexis goes by Sissy because of Alexis and Alexa and Eli usually goes by bubba seeing as how that’s what the twins have called each other growing up with Izzie and that stuck) 

thank you so much for these! I loved loved loved doing them! even threw in some KKC universe things so if yall have questions about that feel free to ask I will share! tho there is yet to have a fic out about them yet… its been a bit difficult with writers block /: 

[its-ashleyreads]

Finished: 16/01/2021

When He Was Wicked by Julia Quinn

“[He] took one look at Francesca Bridgerton and fell so fast and so hard into love it was a wonder he managed to remain standing.”

Rating:  ★★★★☆

Summary:

Michael Stirling, London’s most notorious rake, has finally fallen in love. The trouble is, the object of his desire, Francesca Bridgerton, is married to the Earl of Kilmartin, John Stirling, Michael’s cousin and closest friend. But when John suddenly dies without an heir Michael finds himself being thrust into John’s exceptionally large shoes. Francesca needs him now more than ever, but Michael doesn’t want to eclipse John’s life with his own and vows to, from then on, always keep a distance between himself and Francesca. If only it were that simple…

Review:

If Romancing Mister Bridgerton is the standard for heartwarming romance, then When He Was Wicked must be the standard for steamy romance. The last third of the novel was pretty much just sex – and I’m not mad about it. The rest of the story was a beautifully complex coming together of two grieving hearts, and after knowing so little about Francesca from the other novels, When He Was Wicked shed some much needed light on the most overlooked Bridgerton.

The way Julia Quinn wrote the grief of both Michael and Francesca broke my heart. Before John’s death they were all so young and carefree. Michael only worried about his feelings for Francesca, but at that point they were manageable. After John’s death, those same feelings were unbearable and he’d aged, what felt like a decade, in only a day. It was clear why he had to get away, from both his home and Francesca. Losing someone as close to him as John had been, someone as good as John had been, was a loss of innocence and it changed everything for him. And with Michael, who had been bottling feelings inside since the jump, Quinn wrote his grief as logical, matter of fact. Michael felt his grief deeply, but he was processing it by ignoring emotion, which is why Francesca was such a trigger for him. She was feeling everything that he couldn’t allow himself to, but once he returned from India and saw her again, the emotional aspect of his grief demanded attention, and after four years he finally processed it. Once he’d finished processing and realised that his life was meant for him, not for the memory of John, he became a much lighter character, but he also became impatient with Francesca who was still stuck in the middle of her heartache, when he himself had only just worked through his own.

Francesca’s grief was a lot more traditional in the way we see grief. She wailed, she wanted her closest friends and family surrounding her, she demanded the answers to impossible questions, but Francesca’s grief was also the perfect antithesis to Michael’s. While he was rational, she was irrational. He wanted to see no one; she wanted the comfort of her loved ones. He was able to find ways of working through his grief; she set up camp and lived in hers. And this is in no way me trying to disparage the way she dealt with her grief, I have done the very same thing, which may be why I sound more critical. But she grew comfortable in the knowledge that she would never be as happy as she was with John ever again. She went on her walks and ran the estates and spent time with her family, but all the while she was resigning herself to the fact that her happiest days were behind her. Sure, she still wanted things, she wasn’t unhappy, but she was holding herself back. So, when Michael showed up, essentially demanding that she get over it, she was paralyzed. Because she wanted Michael, and she wanted to move on, but grief was comfortable, it was safe. Not to mention the fact that he was Michael. Michael who was so closely tied to her life before John’s death, when she was still young and carefree, and it felt like a betrayal to live that life without John. So, she pushed all feelings she might have had for Michael aside, until he was sick, and she couldn’t anymore, which is when she broke free of the grief that was holding her down and was finally able to live her life as her own and not as a dedication to a man who was no longer there.

The emotional complexity of both Francesca and Michael, their love of John, and their love of each other, made for the steamiest sex scenes in the Bridgerton novels thus far. They were desperate for each other in a way that went beyond passion and devotion, it was instinctual. It was like they needed each other to breathe. The fact that Michael was always so insistent to get a clear ‘yes’ from Francesca before anything happened between them, because he wanted to make sure that she couldn’t brush it off later, because he wanted her to know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, made their wicked dalliances vulnerable and sweet. The power that Francesca held over him during their forays, made what could have been just another sex scene, enthralling. When the two of them were together intimately, it was impossible to stop reading, not just because of the sex, but because of the love and the need that was between them from the very first.

I had so few issues with When He Was Wicked that I barely even remember them and they’re definitely not worth the time of me adding them to this review. Francesca Bridgerton surprised me, and I found myself liking both her and her story more than #2 himself, Benny Bridgerton. Her second epilogue in particular, was fantastic. But even so, Colin and Anthony remain untouchable at the top of my list.

[mulletcal]

scrabble - ashton irwin blurb.

a/n: would you believe me if i told you i fucked up 4 different times trying to post this. WELL, anyways, here’s a pt 2 to this post and i still mildly blame @sexgodashton​ for it.

word count: ~2.2k (oops)

warnings: none

-----

Since that day where Ashton had realized that his Words with Friends stranger was also his neighbour, his mood surrounding this lockdown brightened significantly.  His niece was good at keeping his spirits up, but it was nice to have someone around that he could talk to as a fellow adult.

More often than not, you would show up with a baked good that you had googled how to make, dropping it off at Ashton’s doorstep before waiting at the end of the driveway to make sure either him or his niece picked it up.  Ashton would return the favour in his own small ways, letting you know what they were cooking that night, asking if he should make extras.  You both had taken to putting lawn chairs at the end of your driveways, maintaining the appropriate distance, but balancing your plates on your laps as you all enjoyed a meal together.

Getting to know Ashton, it grew increasingly difficult to push down your feelings for him.  He was intelligent, handsome, goofy, and he clearly cared for his niece, which also warmed your heart.  Even though anytime Ashton would say something, she’d give him a certain look that had him turning as red as a tomato; which didn’t help you find him any less endearing.

Your Words with Friends games continued, you kicking his ass each and every time - well, except for the one time you let him win, even if he vehemently denies that.  You had suggested that when the lockdown was lifted, he should come over some time and play a game of Scrabble with you, to see if somehow being in person made it any different.  It could be to his benefit, of course, because being that close to those hazel eyes would distract you.

On Ashton’s end, the feelings were very much the same.  He couldn’t stop thinking of you, and how he wished to be closer.  Ashton had never started a friendship, let alone a relationship where he wasn’t able to touch the person he was talking to - whether it be a handshake or a hug.  The most he could do was crack jokes from more than 6 feet away, grinning as you rolled your eyes at another stupid pun.

Ashton realized he had run out of fresh produce once again, but this time before placing his order he sent you a message to ask if you needed anything.  If only you could write back asking if he was something that was available - but you had nowhere near enough confidence for that, so you just replied that you didn’t, but thanking him.  Ashton wanted to use it as an excuse to see you more than just around dinner, but he could never let you know that.

A few weeks later, you heard on the news that the lockdown - as long as everything continued on the decline it had been on - would end next week, with some limitations so people aren’t going too wild too soon; but this meant something huge: you could actually be closer to Ashton.

Figuring a call would be more satisfying than a text, you pressed ‘Call’, vaguely thinking about when you both first exchanged numbers in the first place.  He had forgotten to look at the app all day, busy with Instagram Live interviews, but he felt so guilty and insisted you exchange numbers so you could keep the casual conversation going.

“You there?”  Ashton asked, bringing you out of your memory.

“Shit, sorry! Was just calling to tell you that it looks like our Scrabble game is gonna be happening sooner rather than later,” You speak with a grin that’s probably evident in your tone of voice on the other line.

“Wait really? I haven’t checked the news at all today.  I’m assuming none of the guys have either, we have a music video going up in about ten minutes.”

Oh, right.  You had forgotten he was in a band, his constant drum playing wasn’t just to make noise - he actually did it for a living. “Which music video is it again?” You ask, trying to think of the title before he could speak. 

“Wildflower.  You gonna watch it?” 

“Yeah, of course! I need to support the boomer uncle in the band,” You could hear him scoff on the other end, causing you to let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, I see how it is. Just cause I play the internet’s version of Scrabble makes me a boomer.  Puts you right there with me, though,” He stated, and it wasn’t a lie, but you enjoyed making fun of his age anyways. “I’ll see you later though, the guys wanna have a group FaceTime to watch the video together.  Makin’ pasta tonight, want some?”

“Not tonight, I’m all pasta’d out.  But I’ll meet you guys there, just text me when you start dinner, yeah?”

“Sounds good. Bye!” You could hear an enthusiastic ‘bye’ in the background that made you smile, setting down your phone and looking up ‘Wildflower’ so you could be apart of the video’s premier.

You were most definitely not expecting what you saw while the video played - Ashton had told you, from what you remembered anyways, that they had filmed all their parts separately in front of a green screen in their house.  You didn’t know that you would get so much of Ashton’s personality through the video though, and you couldn’t wipe the grin off your lips the entire time.

Once the video ended, you picked up your phone to send him a quick text message to say you enjoyed the video, and it didn’t take long for him to reply with his gratitude towards you.

Dinner that night had a different air to it, you couldn’t tell if you were all just excited to not be stuck in the house anymore, or sad - or, in your case, if you were flustered because Ashton was wearing the same shirt he had chosen to wear in the video.

This week was going to go by incredibly slow.

**

As you predicted, the days leading up to the lockdown being lifted dragged on - every hour feeling like another day, but you were aware that it was mostly due to freedom, or your feeling of freedom, was so close.

Ashton knew that the guys would all want to see each other right away, and he had agreed on that front - FaceTime calls just weren’t doing it for him anymore.  He was so close to being able to hang out in Calum’s backyard again, laying in the sun and making jokes with his best friend.  All of them had agreed on one thing though - rather than all get together on their first day out where none of them really had much in their house; the first day would be spent gathering supplies for a “family dinner” on the second day.

This also meant that his first night was free.  Ashton knew he didn’t need to worry about his niece, especially since it was only right next door, and he would have the security system in place to be alerted of any suspicious activities.  He had to see you and deliver on the promised Scrabble game; and he needed to test the waters to see how you felt towards him as well.

When the fateful day came, Ashton was practically buzzing with excitement.  He headed to the grocery store, wanting to pick up essentials for the dish he would bring to Michael’s, but also he wanted to attempt to recreate the cookies you made for him as a welcoming gift - though he was sure his baking skills couldn’t hold a candle to yours.

Having gathered all the ingredients, he headed back home to try and bake.  Ashton was excited when you texted him, asking if you guys were still on for tonight.

[2:04 pm]: You bet your gluteus on it.

He could tell you were laughing on the other end, due to the amount of times the three dots had appeared and disappeared, when his phone finally vibrated in response.

[2:05 pm]: Stop trying to make gluteus happen, it’s not going to happen.  Also that’s only roughly 8 points, so nice try.

Ashton couldn’t contain his fit of giggles - his excitement bubbling out of him again, grinning at his niece who walked into the kitchen.

“Someone’s excited to see his crush today,” She mused, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Not a crush, just excited to be within six feet of someone who I’m not related to,” Ashton retorted, both of them sticking their tongue out at the other.

“Tell me why I see ingredients to make those cookies, then?”

“Can’t a man just buy apples and cinnamon, and all the other ingredients to make cookies without being judged?” Ashton pouted in a feudal attempt to win this debate, but he knew it was pointless to argue with a 14-year-old.  “Wanna help? I’ll let you eat some cookie dough.”

Very quickly she agreed, and they set about making the cookies for you. 

While on your end, you were doing something similar for him; you had gone out to buy ingredients to make a cake, that you were going to decorate to say “Happy End of Lockdown”.  You weren’t sure if you were taking it too far, but you were genuinely excited to see his reaction when he read it.

You had just finished the final touches on the cake when the doorbell rang.  Furrowing your brows, you glanced at the time, realizing much more time had passed than you had thought.  Suddenly you were nervous again, not having time to fix your appearance, or fix up around your house for that matter.  Your phone on the kitchen island buzzed, and you quickly picked it up to make sure it wasn’t anything super important - only to find a text from Ashton.

[7:56 pm]: Can you hurry up? We’re free, and I promise I won’t spit on you.

If it were any other person in your life, you would have replied with something along the lines of, “Too bad, I’m kinda into that.” But you couldn’t be that way with Ashton - you felt as though you needed to restrict that part, or risk losing Ashton in your life all together because you weirded him out.

Tugging the door open, you mustered up the best grin you could at the man who now stood before you, “Hey stranger,” you spoke, stepping aside so he could come in.

“Hey yourself.  Even though you left me out in the dust, I brought these cookies for you, in hopes you won’t do it again.”  Ashton offered up the plate of cookies, and you recognized the scent that had wafted from them almost immediately. 

“You made those cookies?” You asked softly, your heart completely melting at the sentiment. Glancing up at him, you noticed he was watching you, your eyes meeting his hazel ones, so you cleared your throat.  “You gonna come in, or you gonna wait to be invited in like the boomer you are?” You left him there, mouth hanging open at your words as you brought the cookies into the kitchen.

“For the last time, m’not a fuckin’ boomer.  I was born in ‘94!”

Spinning back around, you nearly collided with his chest, rather instead backing up to pat it while looking up at him, “Okay Boomer.”

After that moment, your nerves disappeared completely.  Flour was in your hair, but the two of you didn’t care; much preferring to laugh over your cups of tea and the treats you had both made.

When it came time to play Scrabble, you were excited to see how he’d live up to his online persona from Words with Friends, or if instead he’d just mutter curse words when you put down a word that was worth triple.  It was fairly easy to stay focused, your eyes trained on the letters before you, instead of the raven haired man whose eyes were boring into the side of your head after each word he put down.

You hadn’t realized why until you looked up from your tiles to the board, trying to place your next word to finally beat him.  There was a word spelt out at the top of the board, one that hadn’t been there previously - the word was ‘date’, but beside it there was a small piece of paper with a question mark on it, and in the corner where the letter value would be was drawn the tiniest heart you’d ever seen.

“Did you make that heart yourself?” You asked, a grin spreading across your lips, finally looking up at the man.

There was a long pause before he whispered, “Yes,” almost sheepishly, his cheeks turning pink.

“You wanna go on a date with me?”

The response was quicker this time, a more confident, “Yes.”

Looking from him to the tiles, you reached across to grab the letters to spell ‘Kiss Me’, stealing his question mark to add to the end of it.

Ashton read it, looking back towards you with a smirk, “You know that’s cheating right?”

“Are you gonna kiss me or not?”

tag list:   @haikucal​ @talkfastromance4​ @softbabiestan​ @boyfriend-cal​ @calum-uncrowned​ @wildflowerirwin​ @irwindoll​ @gosh-im-short​ @atlcalm​ @thesubtweeter​ @heavenisapeach​ @ridingcthood​ @loveroflrh​ @wokeupinjapanisabop​ @mantlereid​ @inlovehoodx​ @irwinkitten​

[rvb-is-gay]

ok so now that the final episode of rvb0 is out for everyone, lets get into some discussion about it! please note that post isnt a topic of debate but rather just my personal thoughts about everything, so dont go arguing in the replies

(fair warning ahead of time for any fans, this is mostly criticism and negative feelings about it, so keep scrolling if you dont wanna read it)

When RVB0 was first announced, I remember everyone was first upset that the Reds and Blues weren't in it, including me. But now that I've watched the whole thing, I can say with confidence that my only issue with RVB0 isn't the lack of the Reds and Blues, but rather everything. the dialogue, some of the animation, the characters, the delivery, the pacing, the ridiculous amount of clichés, etc. I don't dislike RVB0 just because there's no Reds and Blues. I dislike it because I just found the entirety of it bad.

When I first started watching it, I went in with an open mind that maybe this season could actually be really good. I’d also be lying if I said that there wasn't a single scene that I liked. There were actually a few, but they still didn't make up for just the overall badness of the season. But please note that I don't blame the voice actors for any of this or even just Torrian Crawford for the season coming out a giant mess. Many people worked for this season and always had the opportunity to improve or change things but didn't. But anyways, let’s get into some of the criticisms I have for this season.

1. Smaller and more opinion oriented criticisms

This isn’t really criticism or anything important, but rather just a few things I found a bit weird to me personally.

First, the term “ragtag team of misfits” was used to describe Shatter Squad (and was even actually said out loud by One in the last episode, which sounded just so cliché and dumb in my opinion). I don't think this describes them at all?? Everyone has, at the very least, decent relationships with each other (save for One and East who were competitive with each other (which I also fucking hate in RVB that all the girl characters are always competitive with each other)), but that still doesn't really fit the term ragtag) and they all fight very well. I think ragtag fits the Reds and Blues more than it does Shatter Squad; they're bad at fighting, they argue and fight all the time, they're idiots, and that's why we love them. If they had just stuck with “a team of misfits”, that would've made more sense, but again, this is more of a personal opinion than genuine criticism.

Second, I don’t really like the aesthetics this season had. Everything felt a bit too neon and bright and then some stuff just felt like it came straight out of World of Warcraft or something. It didn’t really feel like RVB.

Third, my feelings about Carolina constantly calling Wash David can be summed up by what Michael said in the first episode of Halo 4 LASO: “Now we’re just gonna throw his name around all willy nilly. It used to be a secret.” When someone is called by their real name in RVB or just any story in general where everyone goes by code names, it’s usually a big deal and indicates something serious. Carolina wore out Wash’s name the first time she said it and it just got more and more irritating from then on out and lost its value.

Fourth, who was the blue and purple soldier in the first teaser we got? Was that One? Did they decide to change her armour colour? I don’t know, I just randomly remembered that and thought it was weird but I guess it must’ve just been a colour change.

Now, onto the more serious criticism.

2. Animation and dialogue

The second thing I wanna talk about is the animation. Don't get me wrong, the fighting animation is probably the best compared to everything else and it was pretty good to watch, but the talking and idle animations and gestures were..... kinda yikes. I know that it could be chalked up to “well we’re not used to seeing animated gestures since all of RVB usually has everyone just holding their gun and using the regular Halo models” but there were still some pretty bad parts.

Take the scene from Encounter at 3:26 as an example (I uploaded the scene to YT to put here, but obviously it was blocked for copyright):

This scene is probably one of the worst when it comes to not only the animations, but the dialogue, pacing, and delivery. When I first saw this, I honestly laughed. Here's a list of my problems with this scene and what made it so laughable:

The overexaggerated hand gestures. I get that because everyone's in armour and a helmet, it can be hard to show expression, but this feels like a bit much. Especially when One says “what? You’re pulling us off the mission? You cant do that!” I think that one scene in season 15 when Grif stays behind on Iris while everyone leaves and it slowly zooms in on Simmons’ visor somehow does a lot better at expressing feelings than this.

East immediately making the connection between Axel and Zero feels weird. I don't know if its just me who feels this way, but I think it should've been a little bit longer before she immediately is just like “you know Zero don't you”

Axel saying “I... I do... I did”  also sounds weird and like he was trying a bit too hard to sound dramatic. I don't really know how to describe it its just such a weird delivery of the line.

The way they all immediately start yelling at each other.

One saying “Axe, I trusted you” right after saying “tell us the truth”. Girl, you gave him no opportunity to explain and just immediately jumped to not trusting him anymore. Speaking of which, I don't think this was ever really mentioned again and had no meaning or importance to it.

The echoing of “I trusted you” also feels cliché to me, but this is more of a minor thing.

I think this one comment on one of the episodes on the RT site that says the dialogue “seemed acted rather than natural. It didn't really sound like how people normally talk, more how actors talk in plays” is how I feel about all of the dialogue in RVB0.

3. The villains

Zero and Diesel both felt like they didn't really have any motivation at all for being villains. Phase is probably the best when it comes to this. She was essentially abused by her father as a child and forced to undergo being experimented on. This is an actual good and understandable motivation.

Diesel we know basically nothing about, and then on the other hand, all Zero wants is power. But for what? Why? I can understand that power is a pretty common thing for people to want, but it still kind of felt like there wasn't really anything there.

Some previous good villains in RVB include:

Temple: Temple witnessed his best friend be brutally murdered right in front of him by 2 soldiers who didn't give a shit and just left him to die, especially right after he told him he was having a baby. Of course it’s understandable that he has a hatred of Freelancers after this. Any normal person would.

Felix: Felix was probably the best villain of all of RVB, to be honest (right beside the Director). He was just somehow so likeable and had so much personality, despite being an asshole. His ultimate motivation was money and being rich, which is another thing I can understand; the more money you have, the more you can essentially do whatever you want and live in luxury. I mean, even so many people in real life do horrible things just for money. I don't even have to give examples for this. Felix in general is also just a psychopath.

The Director: The whole reason the Director did what he did was because he lost the person he loved most in the world: his wife. He was willing to do literally anything to bring her back, leading to all of his actions in the Project Freelancer saga. You can find many examples of movie/TV/book/etc characters/villains seeking vengeance as a result of loss of a loved one and grief. Despite being a horrible person, the Director actually managed to be a villain you could even sympathize with, making him even better.

Sharkface: Although a bit of a more minor villain, similar to Temple, Sharkface is a villain because he wants revenge on the people that killed his team, the people he considered to be the only family he’s ever had.

4. Tucker & the swords

The fourth thing I wanna talk about is the whole thing with Tucker and the swords. I always found it kinda weird how both Tuckers sword and now Locus’ sword in the chorus trilogy were the same, but then in RVB0, Zero’s sword looks and acts completely different, but that might just be a little nitpick of mine.

As for Tucker, it was so good to see him. Although I don’t know if it was just me, but he seemed a little OOC. What I didn't like about seeing Tucker again was that he did literally nothing the entire episode. He was useless. He said “I can fight” at one point but then all he does during the battle is get held at knife point, run away, and then get stabbed and have his sword taken. Tucker isn't an amazing fighter, but he’s definitely a lot more capable than just this. We’ve seen him in action many times and I just feel like he could've done a bit more. It almost feels like he was purposefully nerfed and tossed aside just to advance the plot.

Another thing that I and probably a lot of people are upset about is the fact that Tucker might not even own his sword anymore?? When East stabbed him, he apparently died and the sword was rebound to Phase, but it wasn't very clear that this was the case. Although the beginning of the next episode starts with hospital beeps and a flatline, I don't think it was still really clear enough that Tucker actually died long enough for Phase to reclaim the sword because I saw a handful of people confused in the comments and, like me, even thought it was just bad writing at first and that the writers completely forgot about the rules of the sword established over several prior seasons.

When in the hospital, Wash tells Tucker that he almost died. Although I actually liked this scene because it was nice to see wash and tucker bantering again, I think it could've been made better and made the plot clearer if instead of saying he almost died, Wash said something along the lines of “Tucker, you died. Your heart stopped, but they were able to bring you back thanks to their advanced medical tech” and then in response Tucker freaks out because that means his sword will now work for Phase and now they know how urgent the situation is.

I really really hate that Phase just has Tucker’s sword now and nothing is even said about it. If Tucker was to give his sword away to someone, I think many people would prefer that it was at least someone close to him, like Junior for example, but instead it goes to a random girl he hardly knows.

5. Pacing

The fifth thing I wanna talk about is the pacing. This season was definitely a lot shorter than normal and I think that’s one of the things that really prevented it from being good. The entire story just feels rushed and while I understand that it can be really difficult to build a good story and characters in such a short time, I think there’s still ways you can do it without it feeling like there’s so much missing. I think the long intros and outros are also responsible for less time and maybe they should’ve considered cutting them to give more actual episode time. Here’s a few things that were poorly done as a result of bad pacing:

The final battle against Zero: The whole battle just somehow felt like a typical video game boss battle that ends super quickly to me. Shatter Squad didn’t even defeat Zero, he just up and got disintegrated or whatever from Black Lotus.

Shatter Squad giving up on their mission: After receiving the silly deep voice filtered message from Zero, everyone on Shatter Squad just immediately gives up on finding him.

One’s speech: One’s speech wasn’t awful or anything and I didn’t really have any problems with the speech itself, but rather just how quickly the team went from “we can’t do it.. it’s over..” to “you’re right! I’m in! Let’s go get them!” Compare this to Doc and Sarge’s speech to the Reds and Blues after Church and Carolina leave in season 10 episode 20. It just felt a lot more genuine (this is probably because the Reds and Blues had a lot more time to be developed, though) and was only given after some time passed rather than 2 seconds later. The scene and context also transitioned well into it and at first, nobody was on board with what Doc was saying, which is more realistic in my opinion. People’s minds won’t just instantly change, they’re still gonna think about it and maybe have a few doubts at first.

Phase and West: During their fight, West talked a lot about how he regrets giving Phase away to Starlight, that he won’t hurt her, and is even willing to die for her. Their scene together ends with Phase punching him in the head and then leaving to join the others and nothing else about them is mentioned. We don’t know if Phase forgave him or not, we don’t know how West feels, etc.

Tucker’s sword: Phase still has Tucker’s sword and like the scenario with West, nothing about it is mentioned. We don’t know what she’s going to do with it, if she’s going to keep it, if Tucker’s gonna do anything about it, etc.

6. Clichés

Clichés aren’t inherently bad and can be really impactful and good if done right. But when it comes to RVB0, it’s jampacked with clichés that aren’t good. Here are a few examples:

Everyone gives up until a speech is given: All of the points for this are the same as above, but I wanted to include this scene as a cliché as well.

Every female character is competitive with each other: RVB falls into this a lot, like I mentioned earlier. It happens again with East and One, although luckily they seem to resolve it, but not until literally the end of the season.

West’s fit about East: All of the lines and delivery in this scene were just atrocious and cheesy. I think West’s dialogue just could’ve been a bit more original, but instead we’re given this boring predictable “I won’t lay a hand on her. I promised her. I promised her mother. I promised she’d be safe” spiel that has no emotion to it in his voice.

The whole “I got this, you go ahead” thing: This isn’t like a super cliché thing, but I found it pretty interesting how it happens twice in the same episode.

I think this is pretty much all I can think of at the moment. If I think of anything else, I’ll add onto this. Overall, I think RVB0 would’ve done a lot better as just an RVB spinoff so that it could have more episodes and seasons dedicated to developing characters and a good plot. I’m really disappointed with this season and I hope whatever comes next is better than what RVB0 was. I hope the team that worked on it can learn a few things that come from the good and valid constructive criticism given to them. And if I had to pick, I think I’d say Raymond was my favourite out of all the new characters. He just felt the most relatable and realistic to me.

[tirednotflirting]

happy prompt to cut in with the angsty ones! a rewind on bachelor host ashton when he was still hosting, of michael and luke watching the show and giving commentary? no pairing I guess, just guys being bros watching reality tv together

hey meghna ily. and i hope this is what you meant kfdlsjfkls <3

this is dumb and very silly but vaguely includes one of my favorite non-couple story lines that happened on Bachelor in Paradise. 

also this is a prequel of sorts to this

also here it is on ao3 bc why not

“What’s the drinking game rule with the bartender guy? Jack?”

“Okay so anytime Alex, remember that’s the guy in the purple shorts there, starts flirting with Jack, you have to take a sip. You take another any time Jack is ignoring another person trying to ask for a drink to flirt back,” Luke explains while pointing at the men he references before taking two sips from his wine glass.

“Jesus Christ,” Michael groans before lifting his can to take the sips as well. “These two alone are going to get me wasted and one of them isn’t even a contestant. Why did I let you talk me into this?”

Luke drops a piece of popcorn into his mouth and smiles at Michael’s entirely fake glare. “Because you love spending time with me and I love trash TV.”

“It’s definitely for the wine and snacks but just keep telling yourself that.”

Their attention drifts back to the screen then as the theme song for this week’s episode of Love in Paradise starts playing. It’s some corny intro sequence, this version of the reality show much more self aware than the other iterations that play throughout the year. Michael and Luke laugh at the silly poses and actions this season’s cast have picked to do and throw in random comments about different people as they pop up on the screen.

Luke loves Saturday reality TV night with Michael. Loves that he has a friend willing to watch week old episodes of Luke’s favorite show just to spend time with him. He had been worried when he took this night job that he started recently that he would lose contact with all of his friends that worked and went about their lives during normal times. Though he supposes that Michael doesn’t exactly go about his life during normal hours despite working during the day. Honestly he avoids ever thinking about it too hard because then he gets worried about whether or not Michael is sleeping at all, really. And Michael hid all of his hair-ties last time Luke called Michael’s mom worried about his health.

Luke’s pondering his best friend’s sleep schedule still when the theme song is wrapping up, the final person shown before the show’s title being their ridiculously good looking host. Luke really prides himself generally on not having too much of a crush on TV personality but ever since he got stuck on this show after watching the previous few seasons on Hulu with the girl who works the graveyard shift with him at the hospital, he’s been drooling over Ashton Irwin. Honestly, it’s a damn shame that Ashton is the host rather than the lead on the show. That would get Luke to sign up to be a contestant in a heartbeat and him and Michael both agree that Luke would make excellent TV on a program like this.

“You know,” Michael says while grabbing a handful of popcorn. “They’re totally only bringing this Niall guy on so they can make all of us swoon over him before breaking his heart and making him the lead on the next season. There’s no way that him and Harry make it to the end of this thing.”

Luke takes another sip of his wine while making a disappointed sound. “See that’s what I think they’re doing with this Alex situation.” He gestures toward the screen where Alex is once again batting his lashes at Jack. (Which prompts Michael to groan before taking another sip. This week’s drinking game really wasn’t messing around.)

“Like I’m telling you there is no way they would give up having Jack as the bartender, he’s fucking hilarious. Plus then we get a whole run of promo ads for the next season with Alex’s pouty face. Which, hate to break it to you, dude, is much cuter than Niall’s.”

“Take that back, Niall is adorable.”

Luke raises his hands in surrender. “Not saying he isn’t cute. Just saying he’s not as cute.”

Michael shakes his head. “Goddamn, what are you turning me into?”

They watch for a while with minimal comments back and forth. Jamie and Damon get into a fight over what he decides to eat for breakfast (he’s spent the season attempting to convince her he’s a vegan and she caught him red-handed with both bacon and cheese). Harry and Niall write songs for each other on the beach (“musicians have the best break-ups there is no way that’s not what’s going to happen, Luke”). Luke continues to make heart-eyes every time Ashton Irwin comes on screen to welcome a new contestant to the beach house or to address the audience about the structure of the show. Michael suggests that they make a drinking game rule for every time Luke zones out when Ashton comes on screen shirtless. Luke blushes and flips him off.

The episode is winding down, and Luke and Michael are slumped against the back of the couch (very well wine drunk at this point in the two hour episode) when an ad from the network sounds out providing details on how to sign up to be a contestant or how to nominate someone for the next season. 

“Hey,” Michael starts, his head rolling to the side to meet Luke’s eyes. “we should sign each other up for the show. That way I can actually meet a man and you can attempt to swoon the host. Their ratings would go nuts if a contestant rode off into the sunset with that god of a man.”

“As if either of us would ever have the energy to be a TV personality,” Luke scoffs. “Like everyone on this is totally expected to be an influencer once it’s all over and I just don’t think I could stand myself if my job was to try to get people to buy essential oils and supplements.”

Michael laughs as he stands to collect their empty glasses and snack bowls while the preview for next week’s episode plays. “Just saying, man, like with this new schedule you’ve got, what are the odds you’re able to date anyone?”

Luke rolls his eyes, though if he’s being honest, it’s definitely something he’s been thinking about. “Whatever, that’s a problem for another day. Now, what are your official finale predictions? Because I’m willing to literally put money down on a dramatic scene of Jack and Alex calling whatever they have off, sunset in the background and that new Selena Gomez song playing before camera cuts and they announce the new lead.”

Michael marches back into the living room and throws a $20 bill down on the coffee table. “Harry and Niall make it all the way to the overnight date before Harry gives some shit like ‘the music just isn’t there anymore’ and then they play that new Julia Michaels song while Niall cries.”

“Deal.”

*

[noirandchocolate]

So back in the late 90s my dad--a vry srs lawyer just like me, as you’ll see--developed a special interest in what’s commonly called “Classical Music” (a genre which record stores didn’t confine to the true Classical period, and I trust you know what I mean and won’t get pedantic at me please).  He proceeded to spend about two years buying CD after CD and reading book after book (keeping one book out of the library for months of renewals at a time) about famous composers, and then bringing the CDs to work and playing them in his office. 

Dad had a couple of pals in the office who he infodumped on in emails about what he’d be playing and what he thought about each composer and their music.  These emails developed running gags, mainly how much Dad hated Stravinsky and loved Dvorak, booze jokes about The Five, Tchaikovsky being The Five’s enemy, and practically everyone being a “poseur.”

Recently Dad found printouts of some of these emails, as well as a document titled “Top 50 Composers of All Time.”  And this, I am about to share with you below the cut, because it is silly and fun.* 

*Disclaimer: These are my Dad’s opinions not mine (he was actually worried I’d be offended by his rating of Vivaldi!), and I’m sharing them because they’re funny, not because I want to start a serious discussion about which composers are best.  So, thank you in advance for taking this in the spirit it is offered, and not yelling at me unless you’re yelling in an equally irreverent manner.

TOP 50 COMPOSERS OF ALL TIME (by KidK’s Dad)

1.  DVORAK--He never wrote anything less than brilliant.  There can be no debate, he is the Greatest of All Time!!

2.  Beethoven--Overall, the best symphony writer ever.  The true Hammer of the Gods.

3.  Mussorgsky--Pictures at an Exhibition is the single best piece of music ever written.  Could outdrink any of The Five.

4.  Borodin--In the Steppes of Central Asia is the second best piece of music ever written.  A chemist by trade, he designed sobriety tests for The Five, which they all repeatedly failed.

5.  Prokofiev.  Alexander Nevsky is the best music that’s ever been in a movie.  His First Symphony is, well, “Classical.”

6.  Mozart--Wrote the most consistently pleasant music of all time, all of it exactly the same.  Gets points for writing choral music you can actually listen to.

7.  Brahms--Four great symphonies, dozens of stirring Hungarian Dances, one nasty temperament.  Coolest beard of any composer.

8.  Sibelius--Drunken maverick of the North Country.  Laughs out loud at the mere mention of Stravinsky.

9.  Saint-Saens--Danse Macabre is the best piece of devil music ever.  Would be higher, but he tried to defend Stravinsky.

10.  Smetana--If there was no DVORAK, he would be in the top three.  The Moldau is great!

11.  Bach--Ranks this high because of the sheer number of pieces he wrote, even though they were all variations of the same eight notes.  Loses points for having a bunch of relatives who also thought they were composers.  Result: The Bachs were the Jackson 5 of the 1600s, with C.P.E. in the role of Tito.

12.  Ravel--Bolero is what every piece of music should be, repetitive but compelling.  Also helped Mussorgsky out on Pictures.  Liking Stravinsky was his only flaw.

13.  Rimsky-Korsakov--Wrote the wonderful Scheherazade and helped Mussorgsky with Bald Mountain.  Designated driver for The Five.

14.  Grieg--Next to Brahms, wrote more music for cartoons than just about anyone.  The Hall of the Mountain King would be great even if it wasn’t mentioned in Eric Burdon’s Spill the Wine.

15.  Liszt--Superb tone poems, great Hungarian Rhapsodies, had Roger Daltrey play him in the movies.

16.  Debussy--In the Top 20 even though michael Jackson told Barbara Walters he is one guy he would like to meet.  La Mer is excellent!

17.  Mahler--Ranks this high for two reasons: (1) the first three minutes of The Titan and (2) the fact that he wore eyeglasses that are now considered cool.  Had too much singing in his symphonies to challenge the leaders.

18.  Mendelssohn--A Midsummer Night’s Dream is dreamy and his Italian Symphony is spicy without leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

19.  Berlioz--The idea for Symphonie Fantastique was better than the actual music, but it’s still good enough to place Hector in the Top 20.

20.  Tchaikovsky--Enemy of The Five.  But wrote better holiday music than Handel.

21.  Haydn--More fun than Bach, but essentially copied what Bach did.  His titles for his over 100 symphonies are examples of poseury at its worst.

22.  Handel--Calling his pieces Water Music and Fireworks Music even made Haydn laugh.  The Messiah though is very good for choral music.

23.  Telemann--Another Bach disciple, but wrote great trumpet and flute music.  Less of a poseur than Bach, Haydn and Handel.  Would rank higher if he had written more.

24.  Janacek--Worthy follower of DVORAK.  Would be welcome at picnics held by The Five.

25.  Rossini--Wrote terrific overture music like William Tell and the Barber of Seville.  Not as big of a poseur as Verdi.

26.  Copland--A favorite of Emerson Lake & Palmer, so he gets a Top 30 spot.  Fanfare and Rodeo are toe-tappers and the rest of his stuff won’t sicken you.

27.  Verdi--Overall, the best opera composer, but who can truthfully stand all that aimless singing?

28.  Vaugh Williams--Somewhat boring, but always pleasurable.  Songs like Greensleeves are the best the Island Nation of England can offer.

29.  Offenbach--The Can Can was the Macarena of its day.  Fun music!

30.  Balakirev--President of The Five.  Would be in the Top 20 but, late in life, he actually said hello to Tchaikovsky.  Islamey, though, is stunning.

31.  Wagner--Must have had a tremendous press agent.  Most of The Ring cycle is cumbersome and impenetrable.

32.  Chopin--A poseur with a piano.  Did write the great Funeral March, but couldn’t orchestrate his music to save his life, or the ears of his listeners.

33.  Schumann--A poseur.  Ranks this high only because he ran a music newspaper that criticized other people for being poseurs.

34.  Schubert--Left his Symphony unfinished, but was nevertheless a complete poseur.  Actually named one of his pieces “The Trout.”

35.  Richard Strauss--Without him, Elvis would have had no introductory music.  Next to Wagner and Stravinsky, the most overrated composer of all time.

36.  Rachmaninoff--On first listen, he’s in the Top 10.  On second hearing, he starts falling like a lead zeppelin.  Would be even lower, but I stopped listening.

37.  Bruckner--Has almost nothing going for him, let someone else name his Symphony “The Romantic,” but is still able to laugh at Stravinsky.  It’s sure a strange world.

38.  Shostakovich--Ponderous posturings for little purpose.  Makes no impact whatsoever on the listener.  A disappointment.

39.  Respighi--Did wonderful things with old music of unknown composers.  Would be ranked higher if he had redone Bach.

40.  Holst--Only on the list at all to appease certain readers.  Called his epic work “The Planets,” yet left out Earth and stuck with Uranus.  More famous for “striking a pose” than Madonna.

41.  Vivaldi--Poseur in a big ugly powdered wig.  Wrote The Four Seasons, then basically issued the same music over and over again, giving it different names.

42.  Cui--Have never heard anything this guy did.  But, he was one of The Five and that gets him into this Top 50.

43.  Elgar--Even more boring than Vaughn Williams.  Did write Pomp and Circumstance, but he’ll never graduate to the Top 40.

44.  Hindemith--You can listen to this stuff, but like Schumann and Schubert, you instantly forget you did.

45.  Bizet--Wrote Carmen, which unfortunately for him is opera.  Got beat by a guy who no one has ever heard.

46.  Bartok--Actually tried to be as bad as Stravinsky but, like everything else he did in life, he failed miserably.

47.  Satie--Was ranked higher until it was learned that he was part of a group of poseurs called Les Six, who worshipped Tchaikovsky, sworn enemy of The Five.  Did write music for Blood, Sweat and Tears.

48.  Johann Strauss--The Waltz King: Wrote exclusively merry-go-round music.  A joke.

49.  Gershwin--The Johann Strauss of his era.  Whatever this music is, it isn’t Classical.

50.  Stravinsky--Listen to a jackhammer pounding away on your teeth , while the J.V. football team plays tubas, and it will still sound better than this guy.  No one was worse, EVER.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The Essentials (Donnyx Fem!Reader)

@owba-chan @tealaquinn @inglourious-imagines @war-obsessed

Let me know if you wanna be added to the Basterds, or OUATIH taglist! :)

Requested by @sodapop182

The basterds hid in the shadows of Paris, moving undercover, drifting with the moon toward free France. After a few days, they made it to the city of Lyons, where there was a secret allied base.

The reason for their trip was most unusual. In fact, the basterds had only ever left nazi occupied territory once during the war. A year before, so Hugo could be identified, approved, and briefed by the OSS.

Since then, the basterds had lost three brave young soldiers: Simon Sakowitz, Andy Kagan, and Michael Zimmerman...

It took a few months and eventually orders from the general to convince the basterds to come back to the base so Aldo could choose a new basterd. It wasn't what the team wanted. There was nothing that could replace the boys they lost, but the general was right. The lack of manpower was costing them time and efficiency, and there were more and more injuries as a result. They couldn't afford to lose another troop. So,  they were convinced to take at least one more member to make up for it.

Aldo sighed, standing around the lobby with the basterds, smoking and waiting.

There were a few rows of women in uniform behind type writers, sending messages, decoding secrets and missions. Essentially making the world keep running. There were a few officers and troops around base that day, hoping to be recruited by the basterds.

Aldo approached a young woman in uniform standing by a desk. " 'scuse me, ma'am, my boys and I are here to meet with the general. You mind pointin' a lost basterd in the right direction?"

You looked up from a sheet of codes you'd deciphered and nodded with a kind smile, "Up those steps there, go down the hall, to the left. Big  conference room, you can't miss it."

Aldo smiled, "Thank you ma'am."

But before Aldo and the basterds could proceed, a corporal stood between you and Aldo, "Hey honey, how 'bout some coffee?"

You gritted your teeth, but kept your smile.

The basterds glared at him, and Smitty stepped up, refusing to acknowledge the man outranked him. Smitty may have been just a private but he outclassed the corporal... And frankly was much more of a man. "Come on, sir, she's got a job to do like everyone else here. I'm sure it's not so hard to get some yourself."

The colonel started to make a fist, power hungry, and eager to show his place above Smitty and half of the basterds.

Aldo rolled his eyes and sighed, "Come on now, corporal. Utivich here's just a kid. Stand down."

He nodded, with fake smile as he gritted his teeth, "Apologies, sir..." he cleared his throat, and looked at you, then back at them with a crooked grin, "Ah what do dames know, they love it! Especially with a man in uniform." He leaned onto the desk, and looked at you and lowered his voice, "So how about that coffee now, sweetheart?"

You clenched your teeth and your fists, but you nodded, forcing a blank smile as you muttered niceties through your bare teeth.

The younger basterds read the look on Aldo's face. 'Stand down,' he seemed to say... That asshole wasn't worth it.

But Donny, Hugo, and Aldo outranked him. And collectively pushed past him.

If it were up to them, it would have been so much worse for that corporal.

Donny was fuming, muttering something about wanting to beat some sense in to him. Donny's older sister worked in a factory back in Boston, and his younger sister worked as a secretary in a naval base in the Pacific, but if he ever even heard a rumor about anyone treating either of them like that, it would be over for that animal. And yet... it broke his heart knowing that it inevitably would happen anyway without him knowing.

Aldo wanted nothing more than to beat that corporal down. He fought all his life for a world decent enough for everyone to live in, and he was slowly giving up. And it hurt him to have to leave it like that...but sometimes the basterds just couldn't fix everything.

As for Hugo...the one thing he had left in Germany was his mother. She raised him on her own. And he couldn't stand that corporal, or anyone like him. If it were any other circumstance, he would have bashed the corporal's head against a wall. But for now, pushing past him would suffice.

"Men," The general nodded, acknowledging their salutes as he opened the door when he heard the unsynchronized, basterdized marching approaching the conference room door. He ushered them in, and they sat around a long table.

The general took a seat at the head of the table, in front of a stack of folders. Each one was the name and file of possible future basterds.

Each one of varying ranks, origins and stories, each one of them impressive.

And all of them were in the base that day. Each one came in for an interview of sorts.

Each one a medal winning sniper, or legendary sharp-shooter, or a rogue assassin.

But none of them were really basterds by nature....

Next, the general called in "Corporal Jonathan Williams, outstanding young man. Record number of headhsots in his platoon."

And there he was.

The disrespectful corporal. 

The only candidate to have shown up in full uniform, medals, pins, ribbons. Every one else was in civilian's clothes, like a basterd.

But he showed up, bragging, and pining for more recognition.

What more recognition could a soldier have than be a member of an elite squad like the basterds?

Aldo and Donny stuck with the shortest, simplest interviews, and Wicki made sure they stayed within the rules of decorum to make it as short for everyone as possible...

There was a knock on the door.

Without any authorization, Corporal Williams tried to assert and show his command while he ordered, "Come in."

There you were, dressed as a civilian.

With a piping hot cup of coffee in hand...

And moments later, there it went. All over his lap, his disgraced uniform, and his unearned medals.

There was a wave of silence...but of course under any other circumstances, the basterds would have broken out into a roar of laughter and applause.

"Sorry, Corporal...but then again, what do us dames know?" You shrugged, as you held out your compact mirror, and touched up your red lipstick. You smirked a little, hearing the basterds snickering.

You stood at attention after that.

The general smirked a little, and nodded, "Next, is Sergeant Y/N L/N."

Corporal Williams looked to you in disbelief, disgust, and disillusion...Simply because you outranked him.

Aldo nodded with a smile, gesturing for you to sit for your interview, "Sergeant."

The general looked to Williams, "Dismissed."

"B-but she-"

"Dismissed. That's an order." 

Donny smirked a little.

The general introduced you, "This is First Lieutenant Aldo Raine. Staff Sergeant Donny Donowitz, Sergeant Hugo Stiglitz, Corporal Wilhelm Wicki, and Privates First Class Smithson Utivich, Omar Ulmer, and Gerold Hirschberg. Boys, this is Sergeant L/n." Hugo, Wicki, Omar, Smitty, and Hirschberg saluted you.

You smiled and nodded to the basterds you outranked. You all took a seat.

You had to admit, you were a bit starstruck though you didn't show it.

Your heart raced a little as they went through your file.

And even more so when it was Sergeant Donny Donowitz asking the questions.

The more they heard about your impressive history in the army, the more Donny wondered about the brave soul behind it all. The embers behind your eyes. The drum behind your heart.

He wondered about the girl behind the soldier.

When it was all over, you and Donny hardly noticed that you were both looking into each other’s eyes...

You lifted your chin a little, clenching your teeth to spare yourself from smiling and falling, but you couldn't stop a sly devilish grin.

And it stole his heart.

The general nodded when it was over, "Thank you sergeant. Aldo, we've got Staff Sergeant Duke Livingston next-"

Aldo shook his head.

He didn't know much, but he knew how to read a room.

There was no need.

"Weeell, general. I'm thinkin' a basterd's what we need, and a basterd's what we got right here."

The general raised his eyebrow, "You don't want to see the last few? Or look through the files again, son?"

Aldo shook his head, "Nah...This here been enough, general."

The general nodded. He'd trusted Aldo to put his own team together once before. There was no regret in that.

So he'd do the same again.

"Sergeant L/N, I'm assuming you have everyhing in order to join the basterds, effective as of now?"

You nodded with a slight grin that caught Donny's heartbeat.

"Just the essentials, sir." You left a handful of objects on the table to be inspected and approved as you were led to another room to be debriefed.

On the table you'd left five things. Five things that had saved you from a world of pain, and five things you'd saved from the world you left behind.

A switch blade. Your oldest yet noblest possesssion. It had saved you quite  a few times. More than you cared to admit. You'd kept it on you from the moment you were allowed to walk to the corner store on your own, way back as a kid running around a rough part of an asphalt jungle.

Cherry red lipstick, with a tint of bordeaux. In fact, that was where you bought it, not too long ago. Well...you were a bit of slave to appearances yourself. It never hurt anyone to make a good first impression. Especially when nazis and top secret information was involved.

A mirror. A plain compact mirror. To make sure you looked ok. And to see behind you without turning heads, or raising alarms. A mirror to make signals. A mirror to remember who you were.

And if all else failed, a lighter. Yes, it was nice to light your own cigarette. But sometimes, other things needed lighting. Like...nazis...

And a flower. It had been taken from a lei. A sign of goodbye...Something that once was. Something you carried with you always.

Usually in your hair.

Donny was about to pick it up, but the general shook his head, "Wouldn't do that if I were you, son. That lady was just a private when her outfit was ambushed in the Pacific. Carries that thing with her for those kids lost back there."

Aldo sighed. He knew what it was like to lose good men. But he couldn't imagine losing his entire team all at once... Much less being the only survivor.

It didn't take too long until you were back in the room.

You slipped your lighter into your pocket, held your switchblade between your teeth as you put the flower back in your hair, and looked at yourself with your mirror. You put the knife away, along with your lipstick, and snapped the mirror shut.

Omar laughed a little, out of nervousness, and admiration, "That was a quick briefing."

You nodded a little, "Simple mission. Kill nazis. Scalp em for Lieutenant Raine. And try to make it to the end of the war." You winked at Donny, which took him back for a moment.

No one had ever been so forward with him...usually he was the slick one.

But damn did he like you...

So you travelled with the boys, back past enemy lines, into Nazi-Occupied France.

You didn't have to go more than a few steps it seemed, before you ran into a few nazis.

Rather...they ran into you.

A brand new basterd with a license to kill, the means and guts to do it, and name to build.

You were known in the Pacific for being a strong leader and a hell of a soldier. To the enemy you were known to be brutal.

There was a way about you. So deceiving. So comforting to the untrained eye. So menacing to the enlightened one.

Like a siren, calming and alluring to the unsuspecting man, but a threat and a beast to the one that was evil,

And there at your feet was a young bloodied, battered, black and blue nazi. Looking up at you, what he presuemd to be an innocent, civilian french girl, perhaps taking pity on him.

You crouched down by him.

The basterds stood around you, watching in curiosity.

You placed your hands gently over the nazi's cheeks, filthy with dirt, and innocent blood. His breath was shaking, his eyes were red with tears. He looked into your eyes. Warm and forgiving. But not for him.

For yourself.

Every nazi you took  was a chance to avenge brave men and women...practically kids that you fought with once.

Every nazi you took down avenged an innocent lives stolen from their own homes, not too far from there.

Every nazi you took down was a step closer to home.

He didn't know that.

And as you held his head firmly and steadily, you murmured something for him in the language that brought him comfort.

And in that final moment, in his last breath, his eyes went wide with terror, realizing what was really in your mind, the purpose behind your unexplained  caress

In that moment he was consumed with realization and horror.

And in that moment, you twisted your hands sharply, and snapped that nazi's neck, separating the vertebrae from his skull.

You took his scalp.

Your very first one.

Wicki nodded, and smirked, "Not bad. Ninety-nine more to go."

You smirked a little, and asserted, "I'll catch up." You cracked your knuckles, then wiped the blood away from your blade with the corner of your blouse.

Donny smiled as he handed in his scalps. He had thirty seven to go. "I like your style, kid. Where ya from?"

You grinned  a little, catching his eye, "New York." You wondered if he was just making conversation. After all, there was no way that wasn't in your file.

Aldo sighed as he inhaled some tobacco, "Well, we know that, Y/n. But we know New Yorkers get testy over which part of New York they're from. See, we got Queens and Manhattan back there,"

You turned and spotted Omar and Smitty eagerly waiting for your answer.

You smiled and nodded at Aldo, understanding...

You made direct eye contact with Omar and Smitty as you answered, "Hell's Kitchen."

You watched as their eyes went wide.

"You boys from uptown."

Omar shook his head, slightly intimidated by you as he pointed to Smitty, "He's from Manhattan."

"Upper West Side?"

Smitty nodded, gulping a little.

You shrugged, "I like Manhattan."

Smitty smiled and took a breath in relief.

Omar didn't ask about Queens...he left well enough alone.

The basterds set up camp for the night, and sat around a fire, trying to stay warm and fed, and entertained. Topics varied from night to night. Every once in a while the basterds went into their deep thoughts about life and earth and the world. Some nights they were subject to Donny and Omar fighting: Red Sox vs Yankees.

 Some nights were tiresome and quiet and smoke filled.

But that night, you were on everyone's mind. Your first  kill was an instant basterd hall of famer. Your name was on everyone's lips, and was carved into Donny's heart.

Aldo passed around a few bottles, "Alright, alright kid, how long you been a basterd for?"

You raised your eyebrow, "Bout twelve hours, sir."

Aldo shook his head, "Nah, you see... Most of em boys there been basterds damn near their whole lives. For example, Donny there's been swingin' that bat of his since before he could run. Me? I done my share of bootlegging. Hugo's been a traitor. You?"

You smirked a little, knowing what he meant. "Just me n the ring, sir."

Hirschberg looked up, and pulled the bottle away from his lips, "The ring?"

You nodded, leaning back against a log. "Yeah. I used to be champ of an underground boxing club, up until the war started." The click of your lighter sliced through the silence and shock among the basterds.

Donny managed to sputter, as he looked up at you, "A boxer, huh?"

You smiled, as you puffed smoke into the air, "Yup."

The silence evolved into incoherent chatter and bets among the basterds.

Hirschberg asked, "So...do you think you could take some of us down?"

Donny shook his head, "Hey come on, trained fighting is different from the bar-fight bullshit we throw."

Omar nudged you with a smirk, "Yeah but everyone from Hell's Kitchen fights like a fucken devil. With or without training."

You shrugged, "You got that right, pal." You had to fight from the moment you were born into a world that would turn a cold shoulder to you simply because of your chromosomes. 

And even more so when you overpowered what was expected of you.

Hirschberg chuckled and joked, "You should fight the biggest baddest basterd. Claim your title here too."

The basterds weren't laughing. They turned to him...

Then to Donny.

Donny tilted his head, his eyes gazing to you, pleading for a way out. He shook his head, "No. I'm not gonna hit a lady."

You respected him for the sentiment. But you'd faced eviler, and frankly bigger opponents, in and out of the ring. "Just sparring, Donny. No hits on the face, none below the belt, no one gets hurt. Deal?"

He hesitated for a second, but was egged on by the boys.

He was dared... By Hugo, no less.

And he was dared by you.

You with your smirking raised eyebrow, your silent grin mocking him, and cunning and calling eyes.

He nodded, giving in with an exasperated sigh. "Ok."

How much damage could you do anyway, he wondered. You were relatively tiny compared to him. And you rose to the occasion. You set out your cigarette on a patch of moss on the log you’d been sitting on. You passed the bottle of bad brandy over.

The boys went wild.

Wicki stepped up, "Alright basterds, I want a good clean fight. No hits in the head, no hits under the belt. No grappling, no rabbit hooks, no back handing. Clear?"

You both nodded, and pressed your fists together out of sportsmanship.

But that look in your eyes was so much more than that.

You distracted him.

You distracted him with your devilish smile, with your striking eyes.

You were quick with your strikes, and light on your feet. Your endurance was practically godlike.

There was a reason you were champion once.

And Donny had to admit that.

He also had to admit he was getting tired...

See, he had brute strength, for certain, but that wasn't everything, or even enough for a boxing match.

He also had to admit you had a pretty damn good swing.

He smiled...He respected the hell out of that.

And then... you swept your leg under his legs, knocking him down.

He leaned on his elbows, taking it as an opportunity to take a short, secret rest, while the basterds laughed, as he called you out. "That's not even legal in boxing!"

You crouched down, "I said underground. We fight dirty because that’s what brings in more bets." You held your hand out, and pulled Donny to his feet.

He smiled a little...somehow energized by your smile.

He looked back at the basterds, all indeed betting on how it would come out. Hugo smirked as he cheered on, as he always surprisingly did, "Donnyyyy!"

"Guess you still got it, kid." He winked at you, and you raised your head a little, your cheeks burning as you saw him bring his fists back up, sweat beginning to roll from his chest, and determination and intrigue in his eyes,

You blocked his next few hits, "Guess I do," you winked back at him, which was the ultimate distraction. His heart fluttered, and he smiled foolishly.

And you got him with a right cross, left uppercut, a jab, and then a fist going directly going to his face.

He shut his eyes. Couldn't help it. You were a damn good shot.

You could do some serious damage if you really wanted to...he’d admit that now.

Aldo made a damn good choice, that's for sure.

Donny opened his eyes in the absence of pain and a bloody nose, seeing your fist hovering in front of his face. He could see the fading pink marks of long forgotten and numerous scars on your knuckles.

"You were a bare knuckle boxer..." he murmured.

You lowered your fist, "God observation sarge." You smiled up at him cheekily...

That wasn't his only observation. He couldn't help noticing eveything about you. The small streak on your cheekbone from a forgotten victory. A chip in your tooth, from an unforgettable loss. A relentless soul that made certain you fought on. And the eyes of a basterd.

He respected the hell out of you as a basterd, as a fellow sergeant, and as a woman.

Aldo and Wicki called off the fight.

Donny rubbed his jaw as he watched you walk away... He sighed with a smirk, "What a woman..."

The next day you had your first mission with the basterds. Everything was going as planned.

And then, one of the last surviving nazis threw a grenade at the boys.

You ran and slid, picked up the grenade, and ran with it as the basterds ordered you to stop.

You raised your hand, and threw it back at the nazis, took cover yourself, and held your hands against your ears as it went off and killed the remaining nazis.

You looked back at the basterds. They all seemed to be in one piece. But they were looking at you with their jaws on the ground.

Donny rested his hand behind his neck as he asked, "Where'd you learn how to pitch like that, kid?"

You smiled, "I used to play baseball."

Omar raised his eyebrow, "You mean softball?"

"Yeah that too." You nodded as you cracked your knuckles.

Donny looked at you as if he'd never seen a woman before...

And he still did as the missions and the months went by...you never ceased to surprise him... But...The war grew more intense, and your missions got riskier.

Even more so when Donny realized why everything you did made his heart burst.

Goddamn... That first night, at the end of the ‘fight’...that was the moment he knew you could do some real damage to him, without your fists. You could break his heart, without meaning to. And there you were...running straight into a fire fight.

Donny ran after you, and pushed you down to the ground saving you from a guaranteed gunshot... ...and he fell on top of you...

 He looked down at you, "You can't keep doing this Y/n!"

You smirked, "Why not? I rather like it down here."

He grunted in frustration, "Because!"

You raised your eyebrow, but then your eyes went wide. You rolled out from under him, held onto him protectively, and shot an approaching nazi.

You looked back at Donny, "Because???" as you pulled him back behind a grove of oak trees.

"Because-" He leaned over and shot a nazi straight in the forehead, then looked back at you. He looked at you, his voice grew soft, his eyes were wide, "Because I love you."

You smiled a little, "Oh? I hadn't noticed," you winked, and melted his hert.

He knew it was your way of saying you loved him too.

And among the basterds, the blood, and the bullets, you kissed.

And so it began...

You had something more to fight for, and you had the essentials to do it with. You had everything you'd ever need to survive. You had your lipstick, your knife, your lighter, a mirror, and a flower. You had a memory of what you had to leave behind. And when you saw Donny, you had a glimpse at what you had ahead of you.

The basterds themselves had the essentials: A bootlegging hick, a batter from Boston, a traitor or two, a few kids from uptown, and a boxer from Hell's Kitchen.

Donny himself had the essentials. He had his brothers with him, his bat, and most importantly, form that day on, he had you.

*Based off of @sodapop182. 's amazing art!!!

[bestillmyslashyheart]

(not) just a dream

Happy Birthday @jumbled-nonsense!!! I hope you are having the most wonderful day. Enjoy some malex/inception goodness!

They were a mess, all of them. It had been four days. Four days since Caulfield, four days since Max, since Rosa, and none of them were functioning well at all.

Alex and Michael were reeling from their last confrontation, Maria was half in denial about the alien secret she’d finally been let in on, Liz, Isobel, and Michael were in complete denial about Max’s death, Rosa was trying to come to grips with having missed ten years of her life, and the rest of them were just trying to process the fact that Rosa was alive again. 

And in the midst of all of that, there was Jesse Manes.

It was a good thing Kyle had wrangled him his own room at the hospital or this would have been very suspicious. The whole group of them were gathered around his bed, his father still deep in his medically induced coma, as they tried to figure out just what the hell to do about him. Maria, Kyle, and even Alex were against anything drastic. The idea of murdering his own father just a step too far for Alex, not unless it was absolutely necessary. Isobel and Michael were on board for any plan that would permanently remove him as a threat to their survival, which Alex understood, while Liz and Rosa were just bouncing around ideas. 

“I don’t understand why you can’t just make him leave,” Kyle said for the fourth time.

Isobel glared at him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “I can’t make someone do something he doesn’t want to do.”

“Is there anything we can blackmail him with?” Rosa asked as she settled into a chair, her legs kicked over one of the arms. “Make him leave town and never return?”

“Tried that already,” Alex told her. “Didn’t work for very long.”

“I still say we just k-”

“No,” Maria cut Michael off with a glare. “We are not killing anyone.”

“He deserves it,” Michael countered with a shrug.

“He does,” Kyle agreed. “But we’re not going to do it.”

“Can you just keep him in a coma?” Rosa asked.

Kyle shook his head. “Not for much longer without causing permanent damage.” Everyone ignored Michael’s muttered “pity.”

“Besides,” Alex continued, “the second one of my brother’s finds out he’s here, they’re gonna want answers as to why he’s in a coma and we don’t have any.”

“Isobel,” Liz piped up. “Is there any way to manipulate him? I know you can’t make him leave if he doesn’t want to but can you like, I don’t know, find something he wants more and make him do that instead?”

Isobel pursed her lips. “Hypothetically? It’s possible, I guess. I don’t really know. But that wouldn’t stop him from coming back or hunting us from afar.”

“We need some way to make him forget about you,” Maria waved a hand at Michael and Isobel. “Make him forget about aliens and make him want to be anywhere else in the world but Roswell.”

Someone replied to her but Alex didn’t hear it. There was a pounding in his ears as Maria’s words echoed in his head. Make him forget. Make him want to be anywhere else in the world. The answer was obvious, if you had all of the pieces as Alex did. Because there was a way. A way to change what it was that Jesse Manes wanted, what he knew. 

Unbidden to him, Alex’s eyes rose to meet Michael’s. The other man met his gaze evenly, the same thoughts clearly running through his head. They could do it. If they worked together, hell if Alex just gave Michael access to his father Michael could probably pull it off himself. But-

“No.” The room fell silent as Alex cut somebody off. He didn’t pay attention, his eyes never leaving Michael’s.

“Alex-” Michael took a half step forward. 

“No.” A year ago, hell two months ago, Alex would’ve been on board. But that was then. That was before he knew-  He shook his head. “No,” he said again. He turned sharply and fled the room before anyone could say anything. 

---

Sometimes, Alex thought, the military could be incredibly short sighted. They recruited him for their Special Ops program specifically because he thought for himself and didn’t just take orders so they really couldn’t object when Alex disobeyed direct orders. He’d been a good little soldier for two years before branching out and he thought he deserved some credit for that. The civilian work opportunities were far more lucrative and imaginative than the military’s and even if he hadn’t wanted the money he’d have done it just for the variety.

That didn’t mean he appreciated being blindsided with a job. If it hadn’t been Arthur himself who called him in, Alex would’ve told them all to fuck off. But as it was Arthur, and no one told Arthur no, Alex drove out to some podunk town in western Texas to step into the middle of a job. The former point man had been involved in some unfortunate accident and they needed someone in to fill the gaps right away. Alex didn’t know much more than that, further details promised upon arrival.

As soon as he stepped into the dingy warehouse, Alex knew he should’ve pushed Arthur for more information up front. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been so blindsided by the sight of Michael Guerin crouched over a table.

“Hey, you must be the new point,” a woman greeted. “Alex, right?”

Alex nodded but didn’t look at her. Michael had looked up at him when the woman started talking and now they were just staring at each other across the warehouse. After a moment, Alex tore his gaze away and introduced himself properly to the woman, Ariadne, their architect, and William, the chemist. “And this,” Ariadne waved a hand at Michael, “is Michael, our extractor.” Michael frowned and Ariadne rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t like the term extractor, says it doesn’t fit with inception because we’re not taking anything out but it’s as good a term as any.” She raised her voice towards the end as she blatantly called him out. Michael honest to god stuck his tongue out at her before dropping the pencil he’d been playing with.

“I need coffee.” He grabbed his jacket and rounded the table. “Come on new guy, you can buy.” His hand twitched like he was going to grab Alex’s arm but he curled it into a fist as he pushed past. Alex paused only a second before following.

“What are you doing here?” Michael whirled on him when they’d walked a block. He pulled Alex into a side street and stared at him, his eyes raking over Alex’s face and body as if trying to assure himself that it was really Alex. Alex would have made a comment about it if he wasn’t doing the exact same thing.

“I’m the new point man,” Alex reminded him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m the extractor.”

“How the hell do you know anything about dreamshare?”

“Met Eames in a bar,” Michael shrugged. “He introduced me. You?”

Alex stared at him dumbly. “You’ve met Eames? In a bar?”

“Yeah, that’s probably how most people meet Eames. How do you know about dreamshare?”

“The military,” Alex answered honestly. 

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Then what are you doing pulling a job like this? This isn’t military sanctioned.”

Alex shrugged one shoulder. “Military pay is crap. And the jobs get monotonous after a while. Always the same damn thing.” He paused. “Never get to do inception either.”

Michael smiled a wicked grin. “Pity. Inception’s where the fun’s at.”

All at once, Alex put together the pieces. He’d heard rumors of an extractor named Michael, an extractor who almost only performed inceptions. He’d only been in the game for a few years but he was so good at inception that he’d essentially cornered the market on it. Alex couldn’t remember the last time he heard of a team pulling off inception without Michael. 

And to think it was Michael Guerin all along.

Alex kissed him without thought. Michael stilled under him for half a breath before kissing him back, his hands gripping the sides of Alex’s face and holding him close.

“I’ve missed you,” he exhaled when Alex pulled away.

“Me too,” Alex barely got the words out before they crashed together again.

Three weeks later, Alex knew two things to be true: one, Michael was under his skin in a way that Alex knew would never come out, and two, Michael was even better at inception than the rumors had promised. The second they entered a dream, Michael became almost like a god, able to twist the subject’s mind in new and inventive ways with the person never the wiser.

---

“Alex,” Michael grabbed his arm and pulled him into an empty room before Alex could pull away. “Hear me out.”

“We are not performing inception on my father,” Alex spat out.

Michael clenched his teeth. “Why not? It’s the best solution and you know it.”

“N-”

“I can make him forget all of this! Forget about Project Shepherd, about aliens, about wanting to hunt us down, about wanting to hunt you down! I can make him leave Roswell and never return, no matter what.” He paused. “You know I can.”

Alex worked his jaw and stared at him, the last puzzle piece clicking into place. “You use your powers.” Michael blinked. “That’s how you’re so good. No one, not even Dom Cobb, could pull all of that off but I have no doubt you can. And it’s because you’re using Isobel’s powers,” Alex realized. “You said you didn’t have any other powers but your telekinesis,” he accused.

“I don’t,” Michael protested. 

“Bullsh-”

“Not in the real world,” Michael continued. “The rules are different in a dream. In a dream, I can do anything I want. Including, yes, using Isobel’s powers of influence.” He shrugged. “It works. Way better than when Izzy tries it in the waking world.”

Alex knew that to be true. How many times had Michael pulled off the impossible when it came to inception? How had Alex missed it all of those years? That Michael was something other, that he was doing things in dreams no one else could because no one else literally could?

“We can do it, Alex,” Michael urged when Alex didn’t say anything. “I have a PASIV, I just need Somnacin.”

“I have some,” Alex replied absently, his mind still whirring. 

“Then let’s do this.” Michael stepped in close. “We can get rid of your father forever. He can never hurt either one of us again.”

Alex knew it was the smart thing to do, knew that Michael could do as he promised, and yet-

---

“Wanna go for a ride?” Michael nodded his head at his truck with a wry grin. Alex barely registered the invitation, his mind trying to argue against what he already knew.

“This isn’t going to work out, Guerin.”

Michael nodded slowly before taking a step towards him. “Why not?”

“I talked to my dad earlier.” Alex wasn’t sure why he started with that.

Michael scoffed. “Who cares what he thinks?”

“He mentioned how nice it was to see me acting myself again. Commended me even on working past my childish behavior after the accident.” Alex watched Michael closely as he spoke and so he didn’t miss it when Michael’s shoulders tensed imperceptibly and he leaned backwards like he wanted to put space between them but wouldn’t let himself be that obvious about it. “It got me to thinking.” He swallowed thickly. “After the accident, I was a wreck. I was depressed and so fucking angry. I couldn’t do my rehab, I wouldn’t even let them fit me for a prosthetic.” He chuckled humorlessly. “And then one day, the same day that I swore I saw you in the hospital, everything changed. It was like someone flipped a switch. One day I couldn’t function and the next I was feeling hopeful and optimistic and I started working my ass off at PT.” 

Michael took a step back.

“Tell me you weren’t there,” Alex pleaded. “Tell me I didn’t see you at the hospital. Tell me you didn’t incept me into being okay with losing my leg.”

Michael didn’t answer.

“Tell me!” He yelled. A few people nearby turned their heads but Alex ignored them.

“Alex-”

“Jesus Christ,” Alex took a step back and then another when Michael reached out towards him. “You played with my mind?”

“You weren’t getting any better!” Michael took a step and froze when Alex took a corresponding step backwards. “I just wanted to help you, Alex. You wouldn’t let me be there for the rehab or the PT and I just- I wanted to help you.”

Alex nodded slowly. “So you invaded my dreams and twisted my mind.” He laughed harshly. “What else have you helped me with? What else have you made me feel?”

Michael’s face twisted in hurt and outrage. “Nothing. I swear to you, Alex, that was a one time only thing.”

“Yeah,” Alex scoffed. “And you expect me to believe that, don’t you?” He shook his head. “How am I supposed to trust you, trust myself even, ever again?” 

Michael didn’t reply and Alex walked away.

---

Alex held out for a day before Kyle urged him to decide. He didn’t know what Alex and Michael had planned but he insisted that he couldn’t keep his father under any longer. If they had a plan, they needed to do it now. And as much as Alex had trust issues with Michael and inception, he knew it was their best bet. 

They met at the hospital, Michael with the PASIV and Alex with the Somnacin. “Do you even have a plan?” Alex asked. “Or are you just going to use your powers on him?”

Michael shrugged without looking at him as he got the device in order. “Little bit of both. I’ve been working on a plan to get him out of Roswell and out of your life for about five years so I’ll just tweak it a bit and leave the rest to my alien powers of persuasion.”

Alex paused in place as he prepared to insert the needle into his dad’s arm. “You’ve been planning this for five years?”

Michael still didn’t look at him. “Ever since I learned what inception was. Figured if there was ever a way to get him gone without raising any red flags, this would be it.”

“I-” Alex closed his mouth and got back to work. He didn’t even know what he could say to that. They finished their prep and entered the dream without another word.

“Alright,” Michael greeted when they opened their eyes to see Alex’s old house around them. “Shouldn’t take more than half an hour, keep an eye out for projections.” He disappeared down the hall to his dad’s office without waiting for Alex’s reply.

Alex waited a beat before fleeing out the back door. This was Michael’s dream and the details weren’t perfect but it was close enough to get Alex’s heart racing. Out on the back deck, Alex took a few deep breaths, his falling closed as he listened for anyone approaching. The world was silent.

He opened his eyes to find the shed right in front of him. He hadn’t moved but there it was. Alex glanced over his shoulder at the house and paused only a second before taking the obvious invitation and pushing the door open.

He stepped into a frustratingly familiar hospital room. 

“Just do it, Michael,” he heard his own voice ask. Alex looked over at the bed to see Michael sitting next to him. “I need to be okay with all of this and I’m not so I need you to do it.”

“Alex, I’m not going to incept you! You’ve heard the stories, you know what happened to Mallorie Cobb. I won’t do that.”

“It’s not the same thing. I’m not asking you to give me a reason to live or anything like that, I just need to be ok with losing my damn leg.” Alex watched as Michael shook his head and stood up. He watched as he grabbed Michael’s arm and pulled him back down. “I need this Michael. I need you.”

“Is this why you called me here? Not because you wanted me to be here for you but to fuck with your mind?”

Alex watched the cold mask fall over his own face. “I do need you to be here for me. And this is how.”

“Alex, I can’t. Please don’t ask me to do this.”

The door behind him burst open just as the him on the bed replied. “I don’t remember this,” Alex told Michael, his eyes never leaving the memory versions of them.

Michael sighed heavily. “You didn’t want to. You figured it would be easier to buy the inception if you didn’t remember asking for it.”

Alex turned to face him slowly. Part of him argued that he had no reason to believe Michael, that this could all be a false memory but Alex knew it wasn’t. He didn’t remember it but he knew himself, he knew this is exactly something he would’ve done. “Michael, I-”

He opened his eyes to a different hospital room.

“It’s done,” Michael told him as he pulled the needle out of his own arm and leaned over Jesse to remove his. “You can tell Kyle to remove the sedation or whatever. He should be leaving Roswell as soon as he wakes up.”

“Michael,” Alex tried again as he stood up. “I’m sorry.”

Michael paused. “It’s fine.”

“No it’s not. I blamed you for doing something I asked of you.”

“It’s not like you remembered it.”

“Doesn’t matter. I still owe you an apology.”

“Fine. Apology accepted or whatever.” He finished putting away the PASIV. 

Michael tried to brush past him to the door but Alex stepped neatly into his path. “Thank you. For helping me.” Alex paused. “And for today.”

Michael nodded. “You really don’t have to thank me for today, it was purely selfish I assure you.” It wasn’t and they both knew it but Alex let it go. “And as for- I just wish you’d let me actually help you.”

“All clear in here?” Kyle opened the door behind them just as Alex opened his mouth to reply. He paused and took in the mood, his eyes flitting between the two of them where they stood awfully close to one another. “Everything okay?”

“All good,” Michael promised with a fake smile. “Go ahead and wake the bastard up, he won’t be a problem anymore.” He put his hand on Alex’s hip to squeeze past him without touching Kyle and was out the door before either of them could say anything. He didn’t turn around when Alex called his name.