#so animation fans should try to stick together more on the whole liking animation front

[aaghht]

animation.... rant? just thinking in general

not to sound negative, but man, every time I see another tweet or text post compare some new animated work to spiderverse again, I just think, "WATCH MORE ANIMATION" - because the world of animation, the history of it and the kinds of looks and stories people tell through it is really really more vast than you think. And I don't mean just feature films or tv series. If possible, go see your local animation festival or check if a local school has a student film day. Sometimes these events have free entrance. Or browse animated shorts on youtube. there are so many original animated short films online both there and on vimeo. there is so much cool and weird original stuff on the short film circuit.

I get that when you're young, or maybe like animation is only accessible to you thru the internet bc of where you live, it's hard to see more animation than what's on the big screen. but it just feels so empty to only have spiderverse as your big comparison stick for "how good animation can be" or "this is the top of animation". Because honestly, without a lot of previous animation work, this movie probably wouldn't be quite the same. Some of the artists worked on Cloudy with a chance of meatballs for example. that probably influenced something in the process a bit, if we start looking into it. And there were stylised 3D movies before this too. You'll probably find a lot of these in bootleg form online, or even better, the original artist/studio has put it up. Check out stuff from other countries too. Yes, it was very unique in visuals and good at handling it's main story and topics (imo), but also, animation will probably keep going even further than that. I'm glad audiences are expecting more stylized big studio films and that's putting those studios into a position where they actually consider that more than usual and let their artists push their films into those directions..... I'm thinking about this as an animation fan who has also been in a similar place more-or-less. Any new animated thing I saw when I was younger looked amazing the first time and still impresses me even when I watch it now. So I guess, if spiderverse was that for you, I'm hoping you find more new things to see that are like that. But I also feel like there's lots of cool animated stuff from the past that you can see 2.

yeah ok, maybe i'm... just a little annoyed how many ppl keep comparing newer films (eg studio stuff from dreamworks) to spiderverse when it's possible that they have overlapping crews or it's just that spiderverse wasn't the only catalyst. perhaps for western audiences/studios, but the artists working on these animated films already have so much experience and probably drew from a lot of influences and inspiration sources. like I get it. it's the current goalpost, it moved it. Spiderverse just... took a risk and it pays off now in seeing more of "less-realistic" and slightly more experimental western 3D animation. There's more 3D animated on two's and three's, more of a 2D and exaggerated look to some games and movies now. that's like the surface-level stuff. I look online and see crews from new animated things posting about how they really loved working on the movie and how fun it was. young artists being inspired to make something more different, to include themselves in their own work even more. and those things are really the best outcomes I can think of that atm. We're seeing more black leads in US animation, more voice roles for black actors. all super good things, there's probably more I'm just not remembering atm. but it's a bit sad that it's the only animated thing people are remembering. even worse when people dismiss something new completely just bc it didn't match the same imaginary goalpost or if it's not doing the same thing at all.

like... if you're already an animation fan. just watch more animation please. especially if american animation is the only stuff you've seen. like it's ok if you haven't, but build a little curiosity beyond what you're already familiar with and you might find something amazing. you might find more stuff to like. I see people bemoan how badly animation is doing right now and yeah, I can imagine for the crews especially. but then maybe expand your palate a little. it can be really fun as an animation fan to see something completely new, or something that looks a bit like that favourite thing and you realize, ah, these two things might be a little connected. like even with lower effort, with a bit of curiosity, you can find lots of cool animated stuff like that.

somewhat separately, it is also very annoying for me that online fans will actually see these series or films that become their favourites as such a huge milestone that they will belittle anything else new (this is a more minor gripe bc I only see it singular tweets/posts etc but still. it's a tad weird when it's public)

same goes for stuff like Rise of the TMNT - yes, very good series, but also, there is More Animation out there and there will Be more animation.

same here - LOVE the series but - oh my god it literally builds on so many other experiences and shows by the crew/artists/writers, look up more shows with the crewmembers and showrunners involved and you'll see where it's coming from. there's so much amazing older stuff out there and running around and connecting that just gives a bigger picture of what your fave thing was inspired by. it's fun! try it

[colossal-fallout]

AoT Valentines Day H/C’s

 Head canons of how the following Characters would spend V day with their s/o.

Warnings; NSFW. 18+ only. Smut & Fluff. 

Fem!Reader x Various Characters.

You have been warned...

Eren Yeager: 

- You’d better buckle up and brace yourself, because this dark horse will absolutely astonish you with his valentine plans. 

- He may act nonchalant about the whole affair, both before the event and during, possibly throwing you off guard and believing he isn’t actually going to do much, if anything at all. 

- Oh, how wrong you are.

- So... so wrong.

- Expect a hell of a lot of affection. I can see his moody/brooding eyes glancing at onlookers as he wraps his arms around you, kissing your neck sensually; not giving a single f*ck who was watching. Today is about you, and you alone. If anyone had a problem with that, then they’d have to speak to him.

 Not that they’d have the balls to...

- He will shower you with gifts. 

Red roses, jewellery, soft toys, sex toys, lingerie... 

Even if being spoiled with material things isn’t your thing, he will still do it. You deserve to feel like the queen he sees you as and today you will accept his love, no matter what. 

- Back to that, ‘ not giving a f who was watching ‘ situation, he silently gloats as its the perfect excuse to boldly show others that you are his and no one should come near you with romantic intentions. 

- He’ll definitely wine and dine you. The fanciest restaurant in town, your favourite food, music... the whole SHABANG. 

 Because of how busy he is, he doesn’t get to do this with you as much as he’d like so he makes the most of it.

- Then prepare your poor, unsuspecting booty. Because you will be SHOOK.

-  He will spend hours warming you up. Kissing and nipping every inch of your skin, edging his way slowly to your core. Sighing and gasping at your beauty the whole time; praising you. His warm breath blanketing your skin.

By the time he gets there, you’re so fired up you can hardly take it. 

- But, unfortunately he’s nowhere near done. He’ll run his tongue up you so 

s l o w l y. He’ll over stimulate you, tease you and whisper the dirtiest things into you as he begins to include his fingers. 

- He won’t even consider sliding inside of you until you’ve came at least three or four times. 

- When he eventually does, he’s so turned on by the time he enters himself into you, he just sort of rolls you both up in a close ball, putting your legs up and wrapping his arms around you tightly, his head against yours and panting. 

- “I love you, y/n...” 

- After the biggest orgasm of his life, he’ll whisk you away to the shower before laying you back down into bed, head on his chest and telling you how much you mean to him. 

Levi Ackerman; 

- Levi isn’t a fan of PDA since he’s not only a stoic person, but a Captain held in high regard and wants to keep things professional around others. 

But in certain situations (like valentines day) he’ll pat your head and brush your hair out of your eyes in front of his comrades. (Hair touching is Levi’s love language.)

- But once you’re in private, ooooh boy.

- Levi would make you your favourite food. He would consider taking you out but depending on his mood; he can’t really be dealing with people coming up and bothering him while trying to spend quality time with you.

 “Ah, Levi. I didn’t think you ate here! Did you get my report on the --” 

 “Hange. Fuck off.” 

- Red Roses. Lots of them. I can also see him buying you a new cloak. He doesn’t want you to be cold, and that old one is starting to smell...

- He would sit with his arm around the back of the chair you’re sitting in resting on the back lazily, with one leg sticking out. 

You’re not on duty. This is the strongest yet most subtle way of letting others know; you. are. his.

- Sex with Levi would always be amazing, regardless of the day. But on special occasions, he treats you to a fantastic body massage before he starts getting heated.

Oils. Candles. He’ll even slowly (and gladly) bathe you. 

- Expect the usual; taking his time with you, showing off his strength by eating you out against the wall, your legs over his shoulders, regardless of height difference. 

- He’ll have you all over the room. 

- The only difference is, today he peppers the dirty talk with some sweet nothings.

“I love making you squirm... you’re so beautiful.”

“Fuck, you feel so good around me.  ...I love you, y/n.” 

Porco Galliard; 

(Side note; Porco isn’t my favourite since my best boy is Reiner, and I wanted to headbutt him when I saw the scene of him beating Reiner when they were young lol. I’ll try!) 

- Porco is a cocky little sh-

Porco is a pretty confident guy, so on Valentines day, expect a decent amount of PDA. Snaking his arms around your hips from behind and kissing the crook of your neck.

- Beneath his... ego, does lie someone who really cares deeply for his friends and family. So expect to be spoiled.

A lot. 

- “Anything you want, baby.” 

- He’d prefer to take you somewhere more quiet for food, a cosy corner in a gusto bar or maybe eating alfresco at a lesser known restaurant. 

- He’ll parade you around town, his arm draped across your shoulder, showing you off with a proud smirk tugging the corners of his mouth. 

- I can see him being a dirty dark horse in the bedroom. 

- He loves eating you out. Controlling when you cum, and making sure he is the only one who can make you feel this good at his mercy.

- His head expands several sizes when you beg for him or whimper his name. 

 “That’s right, beautiful. Who is making you feel so good, huh?” 

- Dirty talk. A lot of it. And if you like it, he would defiantly be into degrading you. 

“You take my cock like a good little whore.” 

- Aftercare, I can see him being pretty clingy. He’d love to spoon you and have you close, running his fingers through your hair and grazing his fingers down your arm. 

Armin Arlert; 

- Armin is such a thoughtful person, he had this day planned for weeks.

- He’ll take into consideration your most favourite things to do. 

Like the outdoors? Picnic.

Like to read? You betcha he’s taking you to the bookstore and buying you any you want.

- Expect him to lead you to a warm private area he's covered in candles and flower petals.

- He'll massage you from your feet, right up to your head. All while talking softly to you, telling you how he's felt since you met and how much you mean to him now.

- He will never take you for granted and will tell you this while he's working your thighs with his oiled hands.

- He will hesitate once he's reached your hips but will restrain himself until he's finished rubbing knots out of your entire body.

- "Let me show you how much you mean to me..." As he slowly lowers his head between your legs without once tearing his ocean blues from your eyes.

- Armin will carefully and meticulously work you, he's memorised all of your sensitive spots and how you like things done. He is amazing with his fingers.

- He'll relish your taste; passion and lust transforming this usually shy person into a hungry beast. He'll lick your wetness off his fingers before gently lifting you up, and sitting you down on his cock.

- Expect a lot of praise while you ride him. He loves telling you how beautiful you are.

- Once you're finished, he'll happily hold you while you quiver from aftershocks, kissing your head and playing with your hair.

- "That was amazing, y/n. I love you. So much."

Reiner Braun;

- Once Reiner loves, he loves so deeply.

- So you betcha he has a plan up his sleeve to show you how much you mean to him. Although it probably stressed him to hell thinking of something good enough.

- If something went wrong or didn't go to plan, he would freak out slightly.

- Reiner would do anything to show you how special you are. If you were a bit of a thrill seeker and/or were passionate about Titans like Hange, I could see him transforming somewhere to carry you around on his shoulder or in his hand. Obviously somewhere he couldn't be seen easily and be reported.

- This perfect man would, like Armin, make it an all day thing. Picnic, a romantic walk, dinner and even stargazing. He loves spending time with you and it's hard to find the time usually.

- Much like Levi, sex with Reiner is always mind-blowing.

- He loves taking his time to please you. He won't ever finish until you've been satisfied more than once.

- He would be the opposite of Levi with the nasty speak. With Reiner, it would be sweet something's sprinkled with dirty talk.

"You're perfect. I love you, y/n. You ride my cock so good."

- No matter how long you have been together, he still counts his lucky stars you're his and would do anything to protect you and keep it that way. This certainly comes out in how good he fucks you.

- All in all, I don't think Reiner would treat you any differently to how he always does. He shows his appreciation for you every damn day.

- This bear of a man loves to cuddle so once you're finished making passionate love, hell spoon you, hold you as close to him as possible and just thank whatever god's there may be that he has you in his difficult life.

Zeke Yeager;

- Zeke. I don't know why, but whenever I think of Zeke and how he'd be like in bed I get a little scared lol

- Zeke is pure FILTH. ...But we'll get to that...

- For valentine's Day, Zeke would craft you something. A handmade bangle or some form of jewelry. Maybe a necklace from a precious gem he crushed himself

- Poetry. I can totally see him writing you a sweet poem and leaving it somewhere he'll know you'll come across.

- Monke man keeps his feelings and thoughts pretty close to his chest so PDA would not be his thing. He instead would cherish you in a more private setting.

- He will spoil you with the finest foods and wine. Spinal fluid free, of course.

- In bed, Zeke is a freak. Extremely dominating, he takes out his stresses and frustrations out on you in the bedroom.

- Teasing, degrading, over stimulating and he loves doing you up the arse. Biting, markings even yelling like some wild animal as you brush his tip against your tonsils.

- He'll happily sit you on his face and just let you ride it until your hearts content, his fingers roughly digging into your flesh as you quiver above him.

- Zeke likes to fill you up as much as possible so expect sex toys in each of your openings while he forcefully fucks your throat.

- He might even be into pain play if you'll allow him to partake.

- So after Valentine's Day, definitely expect to spend the next day walking like you've been riding your horse on an extremely long expodition.

Pieck; "y/n? Are you okay? You're walking like I do... Have you hurt yourself?"

Jean Kirstein;

- Poor Jean has the best intentions and really wants to make the day special for you. But he's just so clueless at this sort of thing and would probably mess stuff up due to nerves and second guessing himself.

- He'll write you a love letter or poem, but scattered around him are paper balls and torn ideas as he tries to make it perfect.

- He'll take too much on at once. He'll forget he had something cooking while he's setting up something else and it'll burn, resulting in a comical fit of rage. So instead, he takes you out.

- Once you've calmed him.down and reassured him it was the thought that mattered, he calms down and you both have a lovely time.

- He'll take you for a nice walk after food and he proudly shows you off on his arm the entire time.

- Jean in bed is extremely thoughtful. He likes to take his time and be gentle, worshipping you like the goddess you are.

- He won't ever let himself finish until he knows you've had your fill and then some.

- When you ride him, he blushes slightly and watches your movements in awe, totally unbelieving that he's inside of this beautiful woman.

- Aftercare with Jean is one of the best. He'll leasuirely massage you while you lie on him, pillow talking deep into the night as he tells you how amazing you are.

I enjoyed writing these. I'll write more if I get any interest ☺️ Happy Valentine's!

[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter 3: Roses Are Falling

Read on Ao3

-

Steve’s hand was sweaty in Billy’s as he pulled him through the crowds in the fairground, ducking and weaving between the people milling about. 

Billy let himself be dragged, staring at Steve’s ass in his little denim shorts. 

It had been one week since their date at the diner. 

A week of Billy showing up to the rodeo, watching Steve compete in his event, and making out with him behind the arena. 

It was fun, sneaking around together in the blazing summer heat. 

He had even brought Max a few times, letting her wander around with some chick her own age she met. Apparently, her dad works at the rodeo or someshit. Billy wasn’t listening when she explained. Steve had been across the arena, taking off his flannel shirt and trading it for another one of his slutty little crop tops. 

It was a gorgeous show. 

But Max was somewhere eating her body weight in funnel cake while Steve took him into a tent labeled Employees Only. 

There was an eclectic group of people sitting at the long tables in the tent, all greeting Steve as he pulled Billy through to a group of younger people sitting together at the end of one of the tables. 

Steve pushed Billy onto one of the benches, perching right on his lap like that was totally fine. Like it was easy for Billy to just. Keep his dick in check. 

The girl sitting across from them sighed heavily, raising one eyebrow at Steve. 

“Shut up, Robin.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she was still giving Steve a very pointed look. 

“You don’t have to.” Steve slumped back against Billy’s chest, no doubt petulant. 

She shook her head, finally addressing Billy. 

“I’m Robin.”

“She does barrel racing,” Steve leaned back, muttering the information into Billy’s ear. His breath was hot against Billy’s skin, and Billy had to fight down a shiver that crept up his spine despite the blazing heat.

Another girl was sitting next to Robin, a pretty brunette with doe eyes to rival Steve’s. She seemed vaguely familiar. 

And then it clicked. 

“Aren’t you in the pageants?”

She laughed softly.

“My name’s Heather. And yes, I’m reigning Miss Rodeo USA, so I’ve been with these guys and will be until the next girl is crowned. It’s been a good time.” She glanced over at Robin, bumping their shoulders together. Billy raised one eyebrow at Robin, catching her eye and making her flush slightly. He shot her a quick wink. 

Steve shifted in his lap, putting one arm over Billy’s shoulders, winding his fingers through his little ponytail. 

“So, Billy,” Robin tried to move the conversation along, rolling her shoulders back. “We’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“All bad, I hope.” 

“Nah, just, I feel like I know you quite well know. Like, really well. Like better than I ever wanted to know a guy-”

“Okay, yeah, Robin. We get it. Thanks.” Steve squirmed slightly in Billy’s lap, the back of his neck and the tips of his ears a bright red color. It was cute. Billy didn’t realize when Steve’s cheeks went all pink, that, other, places of him flushed too. He wondered how far down that rosy tint on Steve’s cheeks went. If it was all over his chest, if it leads down to his-

Nope. Not going there right now. Not when Steve is sitting on Billy’s lap, and they’re in fucking public. Absolutely not. No thanks. Billy’s fine. 

Robin squinted at him, and he tried to keep his face as blank as possible. 

Steve sighed heavily through his nose, shaking his head. 

“I’m getting a pop. Anyone else?”

Robin waved him off, and he was gone with a roll of his eyes. 

“So, you’re the poor San Diego bastard. My condolences.”

Billy squinted at her. 

“Not sure what you mean.” 

She took a deep breath, looking at Heather briefly. 

“Look. You know this little fling is just that. A little fling. Steve, he kinda, does this. Finds someone in every place we’re stationed, and has a month-long something with them. He loves attention but he’s too scared of commitment to do anything else. And honestly, I’m saying this all for your sake, because I’ve seen people get attached. He’s gonna eat you alive, and then he’s gonna leave, and it’s easier for you if you know that going in.”

Robin’s words settled like a fucking pit in Billy’s stomach. 

Because, yeah. He, like, kinda figured that. He knew their time was limited. Knew that Steve would slip through his fingers. And really, that was fine. Billy thinks he’d be the exact same way if the roles were reversed, that he would be constantly moving from one person to the next, never getting lonely, but never getting deep, either. 

He understands the whole commitment-phobe thing. Kinda takes one to know one. 

So he gets it. 

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like shit to have it put. So plainly.

“I’m sorry. That was probably too harsh but, you seem like a nice guy, and Steve doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s not trying to hurt people, he just, definitely uses the whole traveling rodeo thing to his advantage.”

“Nah, I get it. Really, I kinda figured it out. He said he likes to make friends wherever they are. So, it’s fine. And I think sometimes harsh can be alright.” He doesn’t wanna make Steve’s friend feel bad. 

And really, he did know what they were doing and what this was about. It just sucks having it confirmed by someone else. And put. So plainly. 

“I’m really not trying to be mean. I just kinda wanted to prepare you. If this is gonna be something that hurts, maybe it’s best to get out now.” Robin had very pretty blue eyes and freckles all over her face. She seemed warm, and the way she was staring at him was with so much concern. 

“Thank you. I get it, honest. I’d probably act just the same if I were him.”

“If you were who?” Steve had returned, slapping a can of root beer on the table in front of them, taking a seat pressed as close as possible to Billy, lifting up his arm to slide underneath it. 

“Quit being nosy.” Robin reached out to muss up Steve’s hair, poking him in the forehead. “What are you two doing today?”

Steve shrugged, taking the bait and moving on. 

“Wander the grounds. Maybe hang out at my place.” Billy’s interest piqued. He had no idea Steve had a place. “Might sneak out and go for a drive or something. You got any preference?” Steve leaned over the table, resting his elbows on top, placing his face in his hands, turning to look at Billy. 

“We could kick around here. I gotta drive Max home later so we should probably stick around.” Steve grinned at him. 

“Well, c’mon then. You’ve got plenty to see around here.”

Billy felt like Steve has already dragged through the entire grounds, he doesn’t know how there’s more to see. 

But it turned out there’s a lot more. Because Steve’s place, as it turns out, is one in a huge crowd of trailers. 

It was kinda out of Billy’s wildest imagination. Like what he’d picture an old-school traveling circus to be like. 

People were milling around everywhere, Steve saying hi to almost everyone they passed. Animals were being led to and from the large arena and the makeshift paddocks that were set up in the open grass. 

It was like nowhere Billy’s ever been before. 

Steve led him through the maze of trailers to a smaller version of an old school Airstream near the back of the lot, still hitched up to the back of a much larger, and very nice-looking, RV. 

Stevie Harrington was painted in curling dark green letters on the rounded metal door, a little cow munching on some grass painted below it.

“That your art?”

Steve snorted.

“ God, no. Robin did it for me a few years ago. That’s why it looks good.”

The hinges on the door squealed when he pulled it open and led Billy inside. 

It was hot in the airstream, and Steve turned on the solar power to get a small fan moving air through the place, propping open the door and the tiny window above the table.

“Home sweet traveling home.”

“Damn. This ain’t too bad of a setup.”

It really wasn’t. Sure, it was small, but it was perfect for one person. A tiny kitchenette faced the minuscule bathroom. The far sides of the trailer were taken up by a dining area, a table with booth-like seating, and a queen-sized bed taking up the opposite side, a small closet smushed between the bed and the kitchen.  

It was immaculately clean, not totally what Billy had expected from Steve. The bed was made, an old-looking, worn-out stuffed horse placed neatly in front of the pillows. 

There were pictures pinned up on little string light clothespins on the wall the bed was shoved against, and Steve even had a few posters over the booth seats. 

“It’s kinda nice. I saved up for a while to buy it. It’s kind of a lot being trapped in an RV with your parents, let me tell you. I’m still hooked up to theirs, and when we move I ride with them, usually, but at least I’ve got some space to myself.” Steve looked down at his feet. “Plus, I kinda figured, this is about as close as I’ll ever come to living on my own.”

“I really do like it. You’ve made it real nice in here.”

Steve looked back up to him, smiling proudly. 

“We don’t have to like, hang out in here. I just thought I’d welcome you in. To like, say, you know, if you’re ever around but don’t wanna hang out doing the same rodeo shit all the time, we could, like, spend some time in here.” Steve’s cheeks were going red. 

And Billy was fairly certain he knew where this was going. 

So he took the metaphorical bull by the horns, and wrapped his fingers in Steve’s literal belt loops, and pulled him close enough that their lips could touch. 

And apparently, Billy was right. Because Steve kissed him back immediately, and fervently, sliding his arms over Billy’s shoulders and pressing into him enough to move Billy back a few steps until his knees hit the bed, and he fell to sit on it. 

Steve wasted no time climbing on his lap, kneeling straddling Billy, pressed together as close as possible. 

Steve broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily and Billy attached himself to Steve’s neck, leaving wet kisses in his path down the long column of his throat. 

“God, fuck. Can we-”

“ Yeah. Yeah, Baby,” Billy was breathless as he replied, getting both hands under Steve’s ass and flipping their position in one fluid motion, getting Steve on his back, his legs wrapped around Billy’s waist. 

“Get the door.”

Billy pressed a long sucking kiss to Steve’s neck before pulling away, slamming the door closed as Steve drew the blinds on the window above the bed and turned on the air conditioning unit in the ceiling.

“It’s gonna get super fucking hot in here if we fuck.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

Steve laughed at Billy, rolling back to lay properly on the bed, taking his stuffed horse and tossing it on the table behind Billy. 

“I don’t want her to have to see this.”

“Fine by me.” Billy was back on him in a second, pushing his hands up Steve’s shirt, yanking it off him as fast as possible. 

Steve was so fucking gorgeous. 

He had a light tan all over his body, with definite paler parts where his shirts usually sit. 

And he was fit. His muscles weren’t as bulky as Billy’s, but he was obviously strong. 

Billy leaned over him, tasting the salt on his skin as Steve began fumbling with the buttons of Billy’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulders so roughly one of the shoulder seams groaned, threatening to rip. 

Billy took that as his cue to pull away from Steve again, shedding his shirt and kicking off his shoes, helping Steve out of his little short shorts. 

He was wearing this excellent pair of boots, deep red with white embroidered stitching covering the boot. 

Steve leaned forward, moving to pull off the boots.

“Wait, no. Leave ‘em on.”

Steve looked at him.

“You call me a hick all the fuckin’ time, and now you’re here saying you wanna fuck me in my boots.”

“It’s hot. You’re like the chick from Footloose .”

“Aren’t you gay?”

“Hot is hot, Steve.” 

Steve huffed a laugh, putting his leg back down, letting Billy settle between both of them. 

“So, are we gonna talk about the girl in an eighties movie, or are you going to fuck me through this mattress?”

“Alright, bossy. You got lube?”

Steve huffed, poking Billy’s chest until he moved off him. 

Steve sat up, crawling to the end of the bed, digging through the laundry in the hamper for the bottle of lube. 

Billy stared at him. 

Mostly, he was just staring at his asshole. It was so perfect and pink, and looked buttery and soft. 

And Jesus, he really just wanted to lick it, to get his face buried between Steve’s cheeks and go to town on the pretty pink furl of muscle. 

And, well, what’s stopping him? 

Absolutely nothing.

He got up, following Steve’s path until he was behind him, taking each cheek in one hand. 

Steve froze where he was digging through the laundry, Billy’s breath puffing between his cheeks. 

“What are you-” 

And then Billy licked up his crack, his tongue dragging all the way up from his balls, flicking once against his hole. 

“ Billy .” Steve spread his legs, pushing his hips back into Billy’s face, wordlessly asking for more. 

So Billy gave it to him. 

He opened his mouth, licking all around his rim, pressing his tongue just slightly inside, sucking on the soft pink flesh, making Steve’s breath hitch and whines pour out of his mouth. 

“Fuck, you’re good at that.”

Billy responded by pulling back, and spitting on Steve’s hole. 

Steve was taken by surprise, if his soft gasp was anything to go by. He dropped his head against the bed, biting onto the blanket. 

Billy just kept going, using his lips and tongue and teeth, opening him up and getting him wet. 

“Fuck, Billy, please just fuck me. I want you so bad .” Steve’s voice was pitchy and breathy, muffled in the blanket. 

He was grinding his hips forward and back, pressing himself against Billy’s tongue. 

Like he wanted nothing more than he wanted Billy’s tongue in his ass right then. 

And Billy certainly wasn’t complaining, not at how fucking nice and soft his asshole was against his tongue, how he tasted kinda clean and kinda musky at the same time. It was heady and Billy would happily spend the rest of his stupid life with his face buried between Steve’s cheeks. 

Something smacked against the top of Billy’s head, and he pulled away briefly to find a bottle of lube on the bed, the one that Steve had no doubt tossed over his shoulder and accidentally accosted Billy with. 

“That fuckin’ hit me in the head, you piece a’ shit.”

“I don’t care,” Steve whined, pushing his hips back even further, spreading himself out more and more for Billy to hungrily take in. “Just finger me and fuck me !”

“Bossy.”

Steve huffed, shifting his head around until he could look back at Billy, his brows pinched in a little scowl, giving Billy a dirty look that was equal parts adorable pout and sexy scowl. He looked like the grumpiest little slut. 

And Billy indulged him, squeezing out a big glob of lube, meticulously coating his first two fingers with it. 

“I know what I like, and I get what I like.”

“Jesus, I thought all them girls were the rodeo queens. Not you .”

“I’m the queen of getting my fucking way. Now for the love of God, put your fingers in me.”

And Billy couldn’t do anything but indulge him. 

He began with just one finger, sliding it slowly and deliberately down to the last knuckle. 

Steve sighed as Billy’s finger entered him, relaxing his upper body into the bed, somehow canting his hips up even more, his back arched as much as Billy’s ever fuckin’ seen. 

So Billy took a chance, pumping his finger in and out a few times, pulling it nearly all the way out, only to replace it with both fingers. He moved slowly, simply fucking Steve with his fingers for a moment, watching Steve as he crooked his fingers downward. 

And Steve moaned, and it was like he became a puddle. All his muscles relaxing and unwinding as Billy curled his fingers, pressing deeply against his prostate, rubbing tiny circles into the small bundle of nerves. 

“God, Bill. That feels so fucking good,” Steve said through a throaty moan. Billy was slowly moving his fingers in and out of Steve, pressing down into that wonderful spot each time he was buried all the way to the knuckle. “Add another. Please, I want you in me.”

Billy had to palm himself to relieve some of the pressure of his own dick, flushed red and oh so painful where it was hard against his stomach. 

But he did as Steve told him to do, drawing out his two fingers to press in a third. 

There was something of a shift in the sticky airstream. As those three thick fingers sank into Steve, it was as though both boys agreed to move faster. Steve began pushing his hips back and forth, fucking himself on Billy’s fingers, matching the steady pace Billy had set with his hand. 

Billy was tugging his fingers in and out, pushing into Steve’s prostate with each movement, the lube creating a squelching noise as they picked up the pace. 

And finally, Steve had enough. 

He moved his hips forward, sitting back on his heels to look at Billy over his shoulder. 

His face was flushed, his bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat, his pupils blown wide, making his already dark eyes seem nearly black. He tossed Billy a condom, and Billy caught it against his heaving chest. 

Steve’s breath caught as Billy ripped open the condom wrapper with his teeth, looking like some kinda fuckin’ animal, rolling it onto himself with a practiced hand.

“Billy, I fucking want you-”

Billy cut him off by pressing himself against Steve’s back, kissing him harshly as he felt him up, his hands roving, touching every bit of Steve he could possibly manage. 

Steve had his own mission, reaching awkwardly behind him to take Billy’s stiff cock in hand, fumbling slightly as he lined up the flushed head of his dick with his slicked-up hole, teasing himself before urging Billy to push on in. 

Their lips lost touch from one another the second Billy began moving his hips forward, their moans mingling in the space between them. 

“God, fuck, Stevie.” Billy could hardly control himself. He so wanted to let loose, start fucking wildly into the tight heat of Steve’s body, take him as hard and fast as possible. 

He let his hands drop down and settle on Steve’s hips. He could feel the firm muscles tensing under his hands, like Steve was barely keeping himself from rocking back to fuck himself harder and faster on Billy’s cock. 

And that’s what pushed Billy over the edge. 

He pushed Steve forward until he was back in position, face down, ass up. His hands gripped Steve’s hips hard enough to leave bruises, and Jesus, Billy hoped to fucking God Steve had dark marks in the shape of Billy’s fingers for days and days. And he let himself go for it. 

Steve was making these breathy, punched-out noises, like with every harsh thrust of Billy’s hips, all the air in his lungs was being forced right out of him. 

Billy was slamming them together, pulling Steve’s hips back as he surged his own forward, pulling out almost entirely each time. He was relentless, taking Steve like a goddamn animal right there on the once neat bed. 

Neither of them was going to last long, they both knew it. 

Billy had taken so much time opening Steve up with his lips and tongue and fingers, Steve wouldn’t even be shocked if he came completely untouched, falling apart with only the attentions Billy has granted to his hole. 

Until Billy reached around him with his left hand, still gripping Steve’s body with his right. 

He took hold of Steve’s leaking cock, brushing his thumb over the slit to collect some of the glistening precum, drawing his hand tightly down the shaft, moving at an agonizingly slow pace compared to the buck of his hips, keeping Steve on the edge of something, making everything way too much and definitely not enough. 

And there was nothing Steve could do. 

He felt fucking helpless as Billy pounded him. It was taking all his energy not to just melt into the mattress at this point and let Billy have his way with him. 

But Billy was getting close, too close to keep this game up for much longer. 

He sped up the movement of his hand, his fist beginning to pump faster and faster over Steve’s aching cock. He wanted him to finish first, wanted to watch as Steve writhed and moaned about. 

It didn’t take long. Less than a minute of Billy jerking Steve as quick and rough as he was fucking him, and Steve was spilling out onto the blanket below him, nearly yelling out while his hips convulsed and his fingers twisted until he had a white knuckle grip on the blanket. 

Billy could only just hang on, fuck and jerk Steve through it, only letting his grip on his cock go a little slack when Steve finally relaxed a bit below him. 

Billy pulled out, snapping off the condom and taking his dick in hand, finishing himself off all over Steve’s lower back, watching his thick cum drip down the slope of his ass. 

“ Fuck. You’re so hot,” Billy said, totally in awe. Steve was even hotter than normal wearing nothing but his bright red boots and Billy’s spunk. 

Billy took a cloth from the tiny bathroom, getting it a little wet to wipe the cum off of Steve as he lay stretched like a cat on the small bed. 

“Thank God I don’t have to ride tomorrow, I don’t think I’ll be able to sit, let alone get in a saddle.” He threw a wink over his shoulder at Billy, bending his knees to let his feet kick up behind him, crossing his ankles in the red boots. 

“We should make the best of our good fortune, then. I’ve got a few more rounds in me.”

“Billy Hargrove, you fuckin’ devil .”

[mrslackles]

what do you think are gg's biggest flaws?

Ooh, Anon! It’s like you’re in my head. 

I’m busy making a video (that will probably never see the light of day) about this --  my distance from the show has really helped with some super objective clarity -- so I’ll use my notes from that to help me answer. 

I’ll preface this by saying what I was most shocked by after putting down all the points was that Rio isn’t even mentioned until really far down??

Anyway, let's get into it.

These are Good Girls' greatest flaws in my opinion (and relative to season 1 -- while I think it had its flaws too, the list is far smaller and I think that's a separate post)

1. It didn't stick to its guns

What set this show apart from others in the 'Everyday person does crime (poorly)' genre was its comedic lightness, strong friendship element, relatability and emphasis on girl power.

a) By season 2, the lightness was already slowly disappearing to make way for season 3's darkness. (Quite literally; this show said sunlight scenes for WHO.) It also stopped being as fun. Remember how it genuinely used to be fun? I mean let's not forget The Best Scene Ever where Ruby shoots Big Mike by accident and we all laughed our asses off. (Compare and contrast to a similar-in-tone-and-context scene -- or even the whole episode -- like Boomer popping up behind them as Rio's package in season 3.) I think season 3 had some great lines and laughs, but in general, the fun element was completely missing for me.

b) As was the friendship. We already know Annie and Ruby basically became Beth's backup dancers in season 2, but at least then they still seemed to have some type of agency. In season 3, they rarely question Beth's (truly questionable) decisions, don't talk to her about shit like why she's still with her horrible husband and have very few true friendship moments as they did in season 1.

c) Which made it less relatable, but what also contributed was the major plot holes (it's less easy to relate when you're constantly having to remind yourself to suspend your disbelief). And, to be honest, their stupid actions. Just the most common-sense things weren't followed, like not taking your children to a crack den or not putting a hit out on a gang leader. It's frustrating watching a TV show -- where characters are supposed to learn things, have arcs and improve over time -- and feeling like you have more logical sense than all the main characters in every scene. (WHO would think a hitman was going to use a sniper rifle on people in broad daylight on the side of the road???)

d) You don't have to look any further than the title or the stans who shout "THE SHOW IS ABOUT THE GIRLS" -- or, hell, the first 10 seconds of the show where Sara is literally talking about the glass ceiling -- to know that the main characters being women is very important to the show. If not formally feminist, it was at least supposed to be empowering or feel like "girl power" (a term I hate, but we won't get into that now).

And I think it did it pretty well in season 1 -- it actually played on my favourite theme of the show, which is the world's perception of these women being what ultimately allows them to get away with so much. (Rife with opportunities for commentary about white privilege, but also a genius way to upend patriarchal beliefs.) But more and more it seemed like the show was asking you to accept empowerment as simply "these things are being done by women, yay".

And, well.

2. Its marketing

I'll keep this one short because I think we all know how messed up this situation is. Basically they're selling a show (every week!) that they're not making while ignoring all feedback on every social media platform. Which brings us to...

3. The marriage of Death

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times -- Beth's character development starts with getting rid of Dean. Her growth is stunted by him on multiple fronts and it's frustrating to viewers since she's constantly put forth as the main character. Not to mention how the audience, separately from Beth, was originally conditioned to see Dean as the scum of the earth (think of scenes like him crashing his car because he was perving on a woman jogging) so keeping them together is really... a choice. To actively root for this marriage (which seems like what the show wants, at least for the protracted moment) means either thinking Dean is a great person (which, as I said, we've only seen the opposite of) or believing he's all Beth deserves. Which leads me to...

4. Beth's (socio)path(y)

Is sociopath a 'good' word? Probably not. Have I seen dozens upon dozens of posts talking about whether Beth is one? Yes. And I see it from a huge variety of people -- from viewers who just binged the show last weekend to those who've been watching for years, the question keeps coming up. And I entirely blame the writing of the show that, by the way, I don't believe is deliberately creating Beth to get this reaction. I think she's written (and, to an extent, acted) in a way that is much too aloof and I'm not convinced it's meant to come off as cold and unfeeling as it does. Everything else leads me to believe that the audience is supposed to root for Beth, but it's just so difficult.

Beth does a lot of messed up shit that requires dialogue to sympathise with her and the inner workings of her mind, but in the later seasons Beth rarely gets to express herself verbally. And every time she does get to speak about her emotions, the dialogue is a pick-your-own-adventure between "She's in so much denial", "This person feels no emotions" and "I'll go find an analysis/fic later to explain this" (scenes like "Nothing" or "I was just bored"). Compare and contrast with some of the great scenes in season 1 where she emotes, like her paralysing shock after they first rob the store or admitting she enjoys crime, or (one of my favourites!) the one in the park where she's mimicking the other mothers beside her.

5. Brio

I said in the beginning that I was shocked Rio doesn't get mentioned until this point and that's because I've always felt like he was an integral part of the show. When people say the show is about the girls, they're truncating -- the show is about the girls getting into crime. That crime is represented by Rio over and over again -- they never bring in another criminal at his level (which is another one of its flaws, but that's also a different post); Rio is it.

And though I stand by Rio's importance, the truth is that Brio isn't as essential to the show, by which I mean that if all of the above were done well, it wouldn't be as sorely missed. In lieu of riveting plot, a fun friendship, character development and empowerment, most viewers have glommed onto Brio like a lifeboat (or ship, heh).

Unfortunately it's also what the show has most stubbornly refused to develop significantly.

It's honestly a toss-up for why I feel Brio is a flaw: is the flaw that they got together? That they never got together well enough? That the writing keeps bringing in these 'chemistry-filled' scenes that are ultimately filled with air?

I don't know. Maybe all of them; maybe just one, depending on the day.

6. Its criticism falls flat without intersectionality

This is a big one because Good Girls is *trying* to do something very clever. As mentioned previously, my favourite theme of the show is how the women's apparent innocence/vulnerability in the eyes of society is their biggest strength. The show plays with this and other interesting themes with varying levels of success, but ultimately they all fall a little flat when they don't feel intersectional.

When Ruby gets sidelined. When Turner, who sees and all but calls out by name Beth's privilege, is portrayed as the villain. When Rio is told he's gonna "pop a cap" in his young child's "ass". When the racist grandma becomes a sympathetic character whom we must later grieve. (And she really didn't have to be racist, now that I think about it? It was just that one line for laughs and that was it.) When, despite the real-world implications, Dean can loudly announce in a store that he's buying a gun to kill someone with and the show just glides past it. When Ruby has to grovel for forgiveness from Beth for trying to protect her husband and family from the system, with no acknowledgement from Beth about how their realities are different. When Rhea gets booted off the show as soon as she's done serving Beth's plot. When Rio gets treated like a prostitute for absolutely no reason. (Oh, and is accused of raping Beth and is literally spoken of as an animal and starts only existing in zero dim lighting as a one-dimensional stereotype... the list goes on.)

7. PR/The actors

I'll risk my life here to sprinkle this in because I do think it's a massive problem. The Manny/Christina of it all is just the tip of the iceberg (although wtf Good Girls? There's nothing you could do to get these two into an interview together??). The main actors do the bare minimum to promote the show and it's weird. I also think it's the height of unprofessionalism to keep characters on the show against the wishes of the majority of the audience just because you enjoy their actors (Boomer confirmed; Dean highly suspected). While, on the flip side of the coin, limiting a character's screentime because you aren't best buddies with them. Having less and less Rio when he's such a fan favourite is dumb; as is not including him in any series marketing material. It feels personal and that isn't how a TV show should be run.

8. The entire hair and wardrobe department needs a stern talking-to

[egelantier]

Tian Guan Ci Fu

where is it and what is it

it’s a chinese webnovel by mxtx, the same author who did untamed; it exists as a webnovel, finished and kindly translated here, the manhwa, the donghua (animated adaptation) happening right now, and there’s a live action adaptation in plans, directed by the same guy who did untamed. the donghua is gorgeous, the adaptation i’m unsure about but prepared to be hopeful, the manhwa seems to be very pretty. but all the adaptations only cover the very beginning of the novel for now, so i went ahead and read the novel, and i have no regrets. it helps that the translation is very good - not without awkward translatorese, but it has consistent and engaging flow and style, and it’s also pretty good at conveying mxtx’s humor without awkwardness. it reads pretty well.

what’s it about?

the world is split into two parts: mortals and various ghosts and demons and entities share the land, while ‘heaven officials’, aka gods, live in the heavenly kingdom in the sky. pretty much anybody can become a god if they do something really heroic or memorable and/or cultivate (meditation, training, virtuous behavior) really hard. when above, the gods rule their domains and fulfill their believers’ wishes; they work sort of like pratchettian gods, dependent on their followers’ beliefs and getting influenced by them. heavens are strictly hierarchical, with their own economy and pecking order, and the gods aren’t particularly sinless or benevolent; mostly it’s a question of scale.

our hero, xie lian, is a prince of a prosperous kingdom who’s been on a fast track to ascension for most of his very short life; he’s talented, he’s virtuous, he’s kind, he’s strong, and his only peculiar flaw is (somehow naive, but well-meaning) obsession with equality and value of human lives and so on. he becomes a god, unexpectedly, at seventeen, after slaying one especially dangerous god, and rises in heaven at the peak of his faith, influence and happiness.

…and then he finds out about drought and incipient trouble in his own kingdom, and, being a young and righteous god too close to his mortality, eschews heavens and returns to save everybody. it, to put it lightly, does not go well. at all. in fact, it goes catastrophically wrong, and, having lost everything, xie lian ascends again, only to get into a fight with the heavenly emperor, and get banished again, this time for good. he roams the mortal lands for next eight hundred of very lonely, luckless and hard years, technically immortal but not invincible, with his powers and his luck stripped away, and leans to make do, eking out a living as a scrap collector. his temples are desecrated, his name is forgotten, his kingdom is long gone, and - well. so it goes.

so it goes! until one day, to everybody’s great surprise, he ascends once again: a humble, gentle, immune to embarrassment, unflappable man, an embarrassment to heavens, a 'laughingstock of three realms’ who just wants to be left well enough alone. he’s Tired.

instead of rest, he gets sent to investigate a dangerous ghost stealing brides who pass through its mountain, and there, during the course of the interrogation, has his first (he thinks) meeting with a terrifying, old-powerful and vengeful ghost king named hua cheng, who likes to terrorize heavens from time to time. but said ghost king seems to be very benevolent and very interested in helping xie lian, and xie lian is pretty instantly smitten… with knowing what’s the cause of such interest.

…and meanwhile, in the beginning, there'was an unlucky boy, born under the worst stars, whom xie lian saved from falling once, while still mortal, and promptly lost track of. a lot of things happened to this boy, who wanted to be the most devoted worshipper to xie lian the god of the sword and the flower. as one does, you know.

that’s the beginning! from there on: investigations, heavenly secrets, old friends and enemies and acquaintances, thematic parallels, old tragedies, more pining than you can shake a stick at, grand acts of love.

is it good?

it’s very, very good. it’s the first fantasy cnovel i read (aside from the hilarious one about a guy traveling back in his own timeline and becoming a sugar baby to a mafia boss, which was in a very different league), so i don’t know which things are baseline and which things are unique, but it had a very solid foundation: ambitious multilevel, multi-timeline plot coming together in the end both events- and emotions-wise, beautifully iddy main relationship, maybe multifaceted characters who change and grow and clash together in fun ways, a clear and heartfelt understanding of its own core themes.

it’s also, unexpectedly, very funny, in this visual, slapsticky, begs-to-be-adapted way - i found myself laughing out loud over it a lot of times, and it possesses this gift of swerve between understated but earnest emotions and all-out jokes that i associate with… a bit of prattchett and a bit of gintama, honestly. take it as you will.

(oh my god the mecha. i will laugh over this one until i die.)

it also made me cry several times; granted, it’s not like it’s this time, but those were very heartfelt tears.

and the main duo?

first let me say that xie lian was lifted out, wholesale, out of my deepest character preferences. he fell really, really far, and did some bad things, and some very horrible things were done to him, and by the time we meet him he went through everything and achieved this effortless kind of traumatized, humble, accepting, wryly self-deprecating, utterly competent chill that makes a character incredibly appealing to me. he’s kind, and he’s sweet, and he’s gotten any possible embarrassment at least a couple of centuries ago, and he kinda made peace with himself and kinda didn’t. i love him.

and, thankfully for me, hua cheng, the ghost king, loves him a whole damn lot, a ridiculous amount, an epic, over-the-lifetimes, life-shattering amount, and he’s a terrifying presence to everybody else and a shy, protective, sweet dork to xie lian, and every time they’re together on page my entire heart is just. it’s AMAZING. he’s a great combination of playing the obsessive protective yandere stalker-lover trope straight and putting it on its head, by making hua cheng not just revere but respect xie lian, in all his good and bad decisions.

they are just so - good for each other, holy shit. they get each other so well. they’re the best ever power team. i love them.

(the rest of canon is various character reenacting “really? in front of my salad?” meme at them. it’s hysterical, and it’s the best. everybody teams up to tell xie lian that his boyfriend is Problematic way, way before xie lian clues into the fact that he does have a boyfriend, and he’s having none of it. i love it.)

and the themes?

okay, so. roughly half of this novel is ridiculous iddy pining, and a fourth of it is various tropes (off the top of my head: soulbond, sex pollen, body switch, de-age, various shades of identity porn… crossdressing…) played very shamelessly. but it also really benefits from having an overarching set of ethical questions, and while it deals with them a bit shounen-style, it still deals with them, and it makes the whole text fresh, and sweet, and bold.

is it possible to save everybody? should you try to save everybody? if you lack the powers to back your convictions, does it make you complicit? when is it possible to stop the cycle of suffering, what can you do if you want to but can’t? if you tried and people you failed turned on you, whose fault it is, where does the blame stop?

Detailed spoilers begin from here, and i would REALLY advise to stay unspoiled, because the domino reveals are very fun

i loved the various ways the novel sets all those pieces up and then overturns them and then returns to them. xie lian wanted to save everybody and it was arrogant naivete of an untried, untested, privileged young man who never had a real challenge before; his presence made things escalate quicker, and yet everybody around him pretended it was his attempt to make things better that ruined everything, and not a combination of factors outside of his control. and yet he accepts the blame, because it dovetails with his shame at not having enough powers to back his intent up; and yet his triumph over bai wuxian is that he doesn’t, after all, renege on his initial drive to help people.

my most favorite part of this novel is that its turning point, the lynchpin of the whole novel, the moment that keeps xie lian’s soul and safety intact, is not his personal purity and drive; it’s not even hua cheng’s devotion and sacrificial love. it’s just a moment of little, grudging, human kindness from a little, petty, rude man whom the history will sweep away soon. the bamboo hat in the rain. the rest of the plot keeps twisting and turning and coming back to itself, but this? this was unquestionably, beautifully clear, and i loved it. it’s never about the gods, it’s all down to - fallen human is human, ascended human is human, and human is not some state, virtuous or sinful, you get stuck with - it’s a multitude of choices, and there’s never a final one.

and incoherent spoilery screaming for people who read it already

oh my god i had SO MUCH FUN. i’ve been flailing on meme for days, because somebody just finished reading there too, and i’m still bursting with ALL THE FEELS. ruoye origins oh my god! that hat! jin wu’s backstory and ultimate end! e-ming’s praise kink! pei ming’s little shippery 'hoho’! hua cheng’s horribly handwritten stick and poke tattoo of xie lian’s name! the lanteeeeeeeeeeeeerns. feng xin and mu qing on the bridge, making up with each other and with xie lian! hua cheng trying to explain to xie lian that his habit of using himself as bait and pincushion at any given moment is deeply emotionally upsetting to him, and succeeding! banyue’s learning from xie lian to be a truly horrible cook! the entire deal with shi qingxuan and he xuan and the wind fan in the end. THE CAVE. THE GIANT MECHA. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and aaaaaaaaaaaaa and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and i am beset, beset by feelings. come scream with me.

[reinerispretty]

reminiscence. (? x reader) pt3

hello and thank u so much for all of ur kind words on the last two chapters!! i hope you guys enjoy this one :) 

pt1

pt2

pt4

“Speak for yourself, Bolin,” grumbled Hasook, the only waterbender they could find to join their team. “You being distracted practically cost us the game.”

“It was only a few seconds,” Mako snapped, readily coming to his brother’s defense.

“That’s all it takes to lose.” Hasook walked angrily out of the locker room. When he was gone, (Y/N’s) bright eyes peered around the door frame.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,”

A smile curled onto (Y/N’s) lips. 

“Nice to meet you, Bolin,” She said, and Bolin felt his heart skip a beat. He liked the way her voice said his name. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what were you doing walking by yourself at night?” 

“I had just gotten off of work,” (Y/N) said with a sigh. “I got stuck with the late shift, so no one could leave until everything was absolutely spotless. And like, right as we were almost done for the night, someone spills a bottle of oil all over the floor! Waterbenders can’t pick that up!” She frowned. “Sorry, I’m just ranting to you at this point.” 

“Rant away!” Bolin said, his face excited. “Where do you work?” 

“I’m a waitress at Kwong’s Cuisine.” 

“Woah,” Bolin gapsed. “No wonder you were so bummed out about losing your food! That place is amazing. I mean, I imagine it’s amazing. The only thing I’ve had from there were leftovers from the garbage.” When (Y/N) furrowed her brows, Bolin started panicking. “I don’t eat from the garbage all the time! My brother and I used to when we were living on the streets.” 

“Oh,” (Y/N) said, her expression turning sad. She reached forward and placed her hand atop Bolin’s. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve been so awful.” 

“It wasn’t too bad!” Bolin, cheerful as ever, gave her a smile. “I had Mako, which was nice, but sometimes we could find really great things in the garbage. Once, I found a whole pie, just sitting on top of trash cans! Didn’t look dirty or anything! It was delicious. Sometimes I still think about trash pie.” 

(Y/N) laughed and Bolin reveled in the sound. “What about you?” She asked. “Why were you on the streets?” 

“Mako and I got into a little argument about money again. It’s fine though, because we’re gonna make our own pro-bending team and rake in all the cash!” An idea popped into his head and he leaned forward excitedly, their faces just inches apart. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to be a waterbender, would you?” 

“Unfortunately, no,” (Y/N) said and Bolin deflated back into his seat. “I don’t bend anything. My family’s full of benders but me? I am bendless.” 

“Hey, that’s okay!” Bolin assured her. “I know really great people who aren’t benders!” 

“I’m not very sad about it,” She said, playing with the straw that was in her drink. “But I do get just a teensy bit jealous. Like, when I’m watching probending and the teams do all these cool moves!” 

“You wanna talk about cool moves? You should see Mako and I! He’s a firebender, I’m an earthbender. We’re like a dynamic duo. Our first match is in two weeks from today, if you wanted to come!” 

“You have a match but you don’t have a waterbender?” Bolin waved his hand in the air dismissively. 

“We’ll find someone, I’m sure! Say you’ll be there?” He asked, his green eyes bright and hopeful. 

“I’ll try my best!” (Y/N) said, and Bolin could tell she really meant it. “It’s just, you know, work.” 

At that moment, their soup dumplings arrived. This both excited and disappointed Bolin. Excited because he was starving and disappointed because he knew once they were finished eating, he and (Y/N) would go their separate ways. 

After stuffing themselves full of soup dumplings, Bolin and (Y/N) practically waddled out of the restaurant. The streets of Republic City were nearly bare. “How about I walk you home?” Bolin offered. (Y/N) nodded, a blush gracing her cheeks. 

They walked side by side and talked about anything and everything. He found out that her mom owned Kwong’s Cuisine and expected (Y/N) to take it over once she was old enough, but (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she wanted to do that yet. She loved animals and preferred to be cold rather than hot, because when she’s cold she can just bundle up. Despite working for her mom, she lived on her own, since her mom didn’t have that much time to be around anyway. 

Bolin told her about how his parents died and what it was like living on the streets for so many years. He told her of the gangs that they had done work for and she looked at him with complete understanding and a lack of judgement. He told her about his best friend, Pabu, and how much he wished he had brought Pabu with him because he knew he would’ve made her so happy. 

By the time they had reached her doorstep, Bolin was feeling very sad. The odds of him ever seeing this girl again were slim to none and that was the last thing that he wanted. 

“Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?” He asked suddenly. (Y/N) nodded, stepping inside for a moment before returning with his supplies. He tore off a small piece of paper and balanced it on his knee, scratching his address onto the lines. “This is where you can find me.” She took it gingerly from his hands and looked at it. When she looked back up at him, she smiled. 

“Thank you,” She said, her voice soft. “I’ll definitely track you down. I have to repay you for the soup dumplings.” Bolin grinned. 

“I’ll be looking forward to it.” He walked down her front steps and nearly tripped. He turned around again to see her laughing at him. He smiled once more and gave her a small salute before walking off into the night. 

Bolin didn’t see (Y/N) at his next pro-bending match, or at the three matches after it. Each time he would look up into the crowd, past the bright lights and thousands of fans and search for the face that had been in his dreams for weeks now. Every night, he was disappointed. He’d put on his helmet and step onto the platform, ready to take his frustrations out on the opposing team. 

He had told Mako about the girl he had eaten soup dumplings with. Mako hadn’t really taken him seriously; Bolin always got distracted by girls for a few days and then found himself enamored by another one soon enough. But this one seemed to be sticking. Mako sort of hoped she’d turn up just so Bolin would stop talking about her. 

And then one night, she did. Bolin’s eyes scanned the crowd, just as they always did, and surprisingly they came to rest on (Y/N’s) face. She sat higher up, in the cheaper seats, but her presence was undeniable. Her smile seemed to beam down on him as she turned to her friend and pointed at the platform. 

“She’s here!” He turned to Mako, jumping on his feet. “She really came!” 

“Finally,” Mako grumbled, and the match started. Bolin didn’t seem to notice, his eyes trained on (Y/N) for the first few seconds of the game. This gave the opposing team the opening to hit him with earthbending discs, knocking him back into the second zone. 

Bolin groaned and jumped to his feet. Mako turned to him as he firebended, his golden eyes furious. “Either you get your act together or I’ll knock you off the platform myself!” 

Bolin nodded, holding his fists toward his face as he shot discs at the opposing team. He dodged their attempts at knocking him off his feet. If this was (Y/N’s) first match seeing him, then she’d see him at his best. 

The Fire Ferrets didn’t win the match, but they played a good game. The team was freshly made and it would take them a while to get in tune with each other. Bolin remained optimistic that they’d win the next one, and he expressed this to his team as they went back to their locker rooms. 

“Speak for yourself, Bolin,” grumbled Hasook, the only waterbender they could find to join their team. “You being distracted practically cost us the game.” 

“It was only a few seconds,” Mako snapped, readily coming to his brother’s defense. 

“That’s all it takes to lose.” Hasook walked angrily out of the locker room. When he was gone, (Y/N’s) bright eyes peered around the door frame. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” She said, and Bolin couldn’t stop the grin that rose to his face when he heard her voice. “I told someone that I knew Bolin and then they told me to come here?” 

“They’re used to Bolin’s routine of bringing back screaming fangirls,” Mako said, and Bolin gave him a harsh shove. 

“Former routine,” He grumbled, before walking over to (Y/N). He wasn’t sure if he should hug her or hold her hands or kiss her. The last option would probably be too much for the moment. “I’m so happy to see you.” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” She said, an apologetic smile gracing her features. “I got scheduled for every night a pro-bending match was on. I had to ask someone to cover for me just to come here.” 

“Oh no! I’m sorry you had to take off work.” (Y/N) shrugged. 

“It was definitely worth it. You guys played an amazing game.” (Y/N) stepped further into the room, directing her attention toward Mako. “I’m (Y/N), by the way. Bolin kinda saved my butt a few weeks back.” 

“I’m Mako,” He said. “And I know. He hasn’t stopped talking about it since then.” Bolin’s face flushed a bright pink, but (Y/N) just laughed. 

“Can I treat you both to soup dumplings? I have to pay Bolin back for mine anyway.” 

“Dumplings sound fantastic!” Bolin grinned. “Right Mako?” 

“I won’t say no to free food.” 

---

(Y/N’s) stomach rumbled loudly. 

She sat atop Naga, her arms wrapped around Korra’s middle. The polar bear dog trotted through Republic City as Korra took her to one of her favorite spots: a little meat stand on the side of the street. “This place is amazing,” Korra called back to her. “I find the stands to be way better than actual restaurants.”

(Y/N) wasn’t quite sure if she could relate, but she was willing to try. They pulled Naga up to the stand to order their food. “You again,” The woman running the stand grumbled. “You actually have money this time?” 

“Yes,” Korra said, sticking her tongue out at the woman. “We’ll have two of everything.”

“Two of everything?” (Y/N) echoed in disbelief. “Korra, I-” 

“Relax,” She said as the woman put together their orders. “You and I will share and the rest is for Naga. She needs to eat lunch, too.” Korra rubbed Naga in between her ears. 

Once they had been given their food, Korra took (Y/N) to the park, where they ate on the riverbank. It was less cold than it was yesterday but (Y/N’s) Air Acolyte clothes helped keep her warm. She received many weird looks as people walked past them. 

“Do I have something on my face?” She asked. “Why does everyone keep looking at me?” 

“Oh,” Korra said, her mouth full of kabob. “Air Acolytes don’t usually leave Air Temple Island. And they don’t eat meat.” (Y/N) gulped. 

“I feel like I’m being blasphemous,” And while she wasn’t really joking, she made Korra laugh anyway. “Thanks for getting all of this food, by the way. I’ll find some way to pay you back in the future.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Korra said with a shrug. “Focus on getting your memories back.” 

“I wish it were that easy. Like, if I could just shut my eyes really hard and boom! My memories would return.” She looked at Korra, her eyes dazzling with an idea. “I know Kya said you can’t tell me anything shocking, but what if...what if you told me some of the small stuff? Like when my birthday was?” 

“I don’t really know things like that,” Korra admitted as she reached for a piece of food and tossed it to Naga. “I really just know about the stuff Mako has told me.” 

“Right, Mako,” (Y/N) mumbled. “My biggest fan.” 

“He’s just protective over Bolin, that’s all.” 

“Everyone keeps talking about Bolin when it comes to me. That’s the guy that was there the other night, right? Who is he?” Korra bit her bottom lip. She knew she had said too much. “Korra, please?” 

“Bolin was...your boyfriend.” 

“Was my boyfriend,” (Y/N) repeated. “As in past tense?” 

“Past tense is a pretty big part of it.” (Y/N) nodded. 

“Okay. I won’t ask you any more about it, I promise. Thank you for telling me.” But when she looked back down at her food, Korra could tell that she wasn’t thankful. The only thing her explanation had offered was more confusion, and she felt incredibly guilty. Guilty over going against Kya and Tenzin’s wishes and telling (Y/N) about Bolin, and guilty over not being able to give (Y/N) the truth. She was completely lost in the world: she deserved answers. 

“Maybe...maybe if we don’t tell you anything, but show you instead, we can get your memories back.” 

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

“What if we took you to places that had a big impact on your life and just see how you react to being there?” (Y/N) nodded excitedly. 

“I’ll try anything.” 

“Alright. But first we have to get Mako and Bolin on board.” 

---

Tag List

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[eminems-skittles]

target run [ bau family au]

bau family au  warnings: none word count: 1.7k

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

"Do you guys remember what I said?" David said, his eyes moving up to the rear view mirror to look at the five kids in the backseats.

"No messing around," Six voices droned in unison.

"Perfect," Rossi said smiling as he pulled into a parking spot.

"Do we have to all stick together?" Aaron asked from the passenger seat. His earbuds, hanging out of the collar of his shirt, played a vaguely familiar rap song that David could just barely hear.

"No but someone does have to stay with your little brother," David said, earning a groan from the seat behind Aaron.

"But dad," Spencer whined, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm almost nine years old. I can go off by myself."

"Says the kid sitting in the booster seat," Derek mumbled, earning a smack on the arm from Penelope and a giggle from Emily. JJ shook her head disapprovingly but there was a trace of a smile at her brother's antics.

"Spence, wanna come look at the toys with me?" Penelope asked, leaning across Derek so she could see Spencer. The question cause Spencer's face to light up and he nodded excitedly.

"Alright, let's go," David said, getting out of the car. Aaron and Emily were next out.

"Aaron?" Spencer called for his big brother.

"What is it buddy?" Aaron asked, pulling his head phone out of his ear.

"Can you give me a piggyback?" Spencer asked while unbuckling his seatbelt.

Without saying anything, Aaron turned around and crouched down. Spencer threw his arms around his big brother's shoulders and jumped up slightly. His tiny hands clutched the black and white flannel that Aaron was wearing. Aaron laughed and held onto the little boy's legs.

"Hey! I never get piggybacks!" Penelope complained.

"He's my favorite," was all Aaron said as he walked toward the store. The rest of the kids followed suit and branched off to go off on their own. Penelope walked next to Aaron and Spencer, talking animatedly about the newest episode of the anime her and Spencer were watching. When the trio got to the toy section, Aaron set Spencer on the ground and started to walk away. Before he got too far he turned around facing Penelope and Spencer, laughing at the contrast of their appearances. Penelope was dressed in what Aaron swore was all JoJo Siwa merch, although whenever he mentioned it to Penelope she'd deny it profusely. As if they planned to be polar opposites, Spencer was wearing a grey sweater vest he had gotten for Christmas with a blue long sleeve underneath it and khaki pants that were a little too big for him. The only pop of color Spencer was wearing were the beat up pair of purple Chucks he wore every day. "Don't get into too much trouble and remember-"

"If we see you, no we don't," Spencer finished, the corners of his mouth tugging into a small smile. Aaron smiled back before spinning on his heel, popping his earbud back into his ear.

"Where do you think Derek went?" Penelope asked, her eyes trained on a lego set.

"Probably to the sports section or he's following Dad around," Spencer replied. "Why?"

"I still have to get him a birthday present. Do you think he'd like this?" Penelope held up a box of legos for Spencer to look at.

"He hasn't opened the set you and JJ got him for Christmas," Spencer said, shaking his head, a pout forming on his face. "He won't let me play with them."

"I'll just get him a sticker or something," Penelope sighed defeated. "Do you think Dad will let us get a toy?"

"I dunno," Spencer shrugged.

——–

"I'm telling you, Em, she's out to get me," JJ complained as they milled around the junior section.

"Strauss isn't out to get you," Emily said, holding up a top for JJ. JJ cringed at it, shaking her head.

"Yes she is! Last week, I labelled my paper Unit One instead of the actual unit name and she gave me an F on the assignment even though I got all of the questions right," JJ groaned.

"That's probably Aaron and I's fault," Emily stated. "At least you don't have Mrs. Barnes. She hates me so much. Probably because she had Aaron last year and I'm nothing like him."

"You mean you're not a quiet straight A student?" JJ asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Can we go over to the sports aisle? I need to get a new ball since Will kicked mine onto the roof of the gym during practice yesterday."

"I still think he likes you," Emily teased, nudging her shoulder as they walked towards the sports gear.

"No he doesn't," JJ blushed.

"Oh my god! You like him too!" Emily said, poking her sister's cheek. JJ swatted her hand away, her eyes staring widely at Emily.

"Can you please be quiet?!" JJ asked, frantically looking around to make sure no one heard. She stopped abruptly when her eyes landed on her brother just a few aisles away from them. "Hey, who's Aaron talking to?"

——–

"Derek, why don't you go find your brother?" David asked as Derek threw random snacks into the cart. "I can do this myself."

"If you say so," Derek said laughing. "See ya later, pops!"

Derek ran down the aisle toward the toys to find Spencer and Penelope, his shoes squeaking every now and then. When he saw they weren't at the toy section, he ran through the whole store looking for them. Eventually, he found them near the sports aisle, huddled close together with JJ and Emily. He quietly walked up to them, careful not to make any noise.

"What are you guys doing?" He asked causing his brother and sisters to jump and turn to face him. Emily pulled his arm down so he was level with all of them. "What are we looking at?"

"Aaron has been talking to this girl for like fifteen minutes," Emily explained, her voice hushed. She pointed to where Aaron and the mystery girl were standing. She had short blonde hair and was wearing high waisted mom jeans and a white t-shirt.

"Who is she?" Derek questioned.

"Her name is Haley. Haley Brooks. She's the reason Aaron auditioned for the play," JJ whispered.

"We should go say hi," Penelope stood up, beginning to walk over to her older brother. Before she could get even half a step away, she was being dragged back to her spot.

"Absolutely not, Pen. Aaron can't know we saw him," JJ whisper-yelled.

"Why not?" Spencer asked, pulling on JJ's sleeve.

"Because he really likes her so we aren't going to ruin it," JJ said, looking down at her younger brother.

"Speak for yourself," was all Emily said before she stood up and walked over to Aaron and Haley.

"Hey Em!" Haley greeted. Emily winced at the nickname. Only her siblings could call her Em.

"Hey...Hal," Emily said, forcing a smile on her face.

"Why is she smiling like that?" Penelope whispered from where they stood.

"She's not Haley's biggest fan," JJ whispered. "Now, shush. I'm trying to listen."

"What's up, Emily?" Aaron asked, an annoyed smile settling on his face. Emily turned to face Aaron, her back completely to Haley.

"Spencer's looking for you. He needs help getting something. Says you know where it is," Emily lied.

"No I do-" Spencer was cut off by JJ shushing him.

"Okay, I'll be right there. I'm sorry Haley, but I gotta go help him," Aaron apologized.

"I can come with if you-"

"He can do it by himself," Emily cut her off before walking away.

"I'll see you at rehearsal," Aaron said to Haley before following Emily to where everyone else was waiting eagerly. "What do you need help with, buddy?"

"I don't need help," Spencer stated as if it was obvious.

"Then why did Emily practically drag me away from Haley?" Aaron questioned, turning to glare at his twin sister.

Deciding to not answer with 'because I hate your girlfriend,' Emily went with a much more logical approach. "Would you rather have us drag you away from your girlfriend or Dad?"

"Fair point," Aaron said with a smile.

The group of six wandered aimlessly around the store, having at least ten different conversations. They looped back to the front so they could grab a cart to fill with things they know Rossi would never let them get. Aaron and JJ, the responsible ones, were in charge of pushing the cart while everyone else threw random things into it.

"Emily tells me it's your fault Mrs. Strauss hates me," JJ says casually to Aaron.

"Uhh, maybe?"

"Great," JJ said rolling her eyes. "Hey, Spencer! Put that down!"

Spencer sighed, setting down the large glass ball he was about to throw at Derek. He looked at JJ and mumbled, "You're no fun."

"I could've caught it!" Derek muttered.

"Derek Morgan Rossi!" JJ exclaimed exasperatedly. "You are the older one, you know better than to egg him on."

"JJ, why don't you leave the parenting to me?" A voice said from behind them. They all turned around to find David standing with an almost full cart, an amused smile on his face. "But seriously, Derek, Spencer, you guys should listen to your sister."

"See!" JJ shouted, earning a few curious looks from other customers.

"What do you guys have there?" David asked, looking into the cart.

"Just some random things," Emily replied, tossing a tube of mascara into the cart.

"Okay, well let's go checkout," David said, before walking away.

"Wait, Dad!" Aaron said causing David to turn around. "Shouldn't we put this stuff away?"

"If you guys want it, you can get all of it," David said before turning back around and continuing his journey to the checkout. The six children shared looks of disbelief before following their dad.

After checking out, pushing three carts of bags (they had to get a third after they paid) and stuffing the car full of their goodies, they were on the way back to their house. The car was filled with excited chatter, everyone discussing the stuff they got.

"I have a question," Rossi said, grabbing the children's attention. "Who's Haley?"

[queen-of-my-goofball-army]

Why YOU should give Rush a chance

Okay, so right off the bat, this is not going to be like my other posts on my blog. This is not a post about some show that has captivated my interest or anything at all related to animation. If that's not your cup of Dot rambling coffee, than I would highly recommend you take your L right now and come back for your regularly scheduled programming in a few days.

Are they gone? Okay cool! For those of you that stuck around past my forewarning let me tell you about my newest special interest to join my now growing music love affair with 80's and 90's Rock n Roll. For those of you that don't know, I'm guessing that most of you do not know what Rush even is. If you are not somehow on the autism spectrum or know a lot about music in general than this band will be entirely unknown to you. Rush is a three man progressive rock band born in Canada made up of three incredibly amazing men Gary "Geddy" Lee, his best friend since he was 11 years old Alex Lifeson, and last but most certainly not least, the amazingness that was Rush's drummer and songwriter Neil Peart. Together, the three of them changed the world of progressive rock through Geddy's unique vocal qualities, Alex's incredibly underrated shredding guitar skills, and Neil's immaculate drums and lyrics. I am here to tell you, yes YOU reading this length rambling message in three sections to keep this fair. Each member will get their own sections and I will try my hardest to keep personal bias out of this. I also just watched Rush: Beyond The Lighted Stage yesterday with my mom so I will mention some things that we talked about during it to try and sell people.

Geddy Lee:

* Geddy has one of the most unique voices in all of rock music. This will most likely be the thing that turns off the people that do listen to me and wind up listening to a couple of songs. He has had a lot of critics for his higher pitched voice usually yelling lyrics. However, I love his singing voice. It is filled with energy and power to it. His voice has a weight to it that not a whole lot of other people can really nail if they really want to.

* You want to talk about sheer talent? How many of you all know lead singers that are a one and done kind of singer? They can play one instrument and they're done? Well shove them aside because Geddy can play not only bass guitar but a double neck bass, synthesizer, and piano. Yeah I think all you haters can stand aside because this man will always be amazing technically.

* So many of lead singers in my opinion, think that they own the band. Because they get to sing the songs right? That means that they get to make all the important decisions and they can't ever do anything wrong. Well for those of you that know Rush, you will remember the synthesizer era. The era of new wave Rush where Geddy shelved his bass guitars for his synthesizer. This caused a small rift between Lee, Lifeson, and Peart who were not at all fans of the way that the synthesizer was going. While Geddy was having a fun time with it, he shelved the synthesizer almost for good and went back to his roots. I don't know many other lead singers that would put up something that they were legitimately having a good time with just for his bandmates.

* Geddy's just general goofball personality is something that continues to make me chuckle. Since he and Alex have known each other for practically ever (they met when they were 11) and have been there for each other for most of their lives they have very similar energy's.

Alex Lifeson:

* Alex Lifeson is an underrated guitarist. There I said it. I feel like of the three of them (Geddy, Alex, and Neil) Alex gets talked about the least due to the fact that Geddy also plays guitar. While it might be a different brand of guitar some people forget just how genuinely face melting his solos are. I could listen to his riff in Tom Sawyer all day long I swear. I'm still working my way through every Rush album in chronological order (I'm just now finishing A Farewell To Kings an absolutely beautiful album.) But his skills are not one to be downsized and I think he is an amazing, amazing guitar player.

* You want to talk about the group goofball? If Geddy is goofy, you look in the dictionary this man is the pure definition of a hilarious and quirky character. When Rush was FINALLY indicted into the Rock N'Roll hall of fame in 2013, after Neil and Geddy's beautiful and moving speech's about how important this means to them, Alex gets up there and his entire speech is spoken in very animated BLAHs. But what's really funny is that if you watch carefully he is actually trying to tell you a story. It's a story about how they all got there past the critics that tried to stop them along the way.

* I love the relationship between Alex and Geddy especially. They're just both such unique kinds of people but they have similar quirks and traits that are evidence of decades upon decades of friendship. I get massive big bro vibes from watching the three of them play together and it's really touching that they never let the fame go to their heads.

* While watching the documentary, I found myself in awe of just his general personality. He was a jokester and the life of the party, and even if sometimes Neil was exhausted by his presence it was obvious that he loved his bros.

Neil Peart:

* If you are asking me, the heart and soul of Rush, was their drummer Neil Peart. Neil wasn't just their drummer though, he also wrote all of Rush's songs after their first album together. Neil grew up probably the biggest bookworm to ever bookworm. He was a socially awkward kid it seemed since he was always reading as his parents explained in the documentary (more on this laster). This resulted in lyrics that are absolutely gorgeous in any context and sound like literature themselves. One of my favorite Rush songs is their song Rivendale themed to Lord Of The Rings.

* Peart was one of the most technically amazing drummers of all time. I don't think I'm saying new information when I say that. He has been praised for not only his technical prowess but the intensity of how he played as well. He was a force of nature when you put him in front of a drum kit. The drum solos in Rush are not easy. They are technically extremely difficult and always leave me to collect my jaw from the floor.

* Lyrically speaking, his lyrics were so intelligent and beautifully worded that it's hard to focus on them sometimes. I've listened to Fly By Night I can't tell you how many times just within the last few months. They are so unique, so beautiful, just so Rush. I can't think of any other word to describe them other than Rush. Nobody else could have written lyrics like these other than Neil himself. Even though he's gone now (Rest In Power you absolute Mad Lad.) I still feel like his music will resonate with millions of future generations to come. It could be the year 3000 for all I care and people will still be jamming to Tom Swayer, just you watch.

* Lastly about Neil himself, this is of the opinion of my mom and I, and you heard it here first, I think that Neil was aspie. He was the quietest of the three of them, he hated getting spotted by fans while the other two seem to tolerate it, he was constantly stimming with his drumsticks on and off the stage by spinning them around his fingers, he was totally nerdy and antisocial, he loved literature more than anything else growing up and would rather have a book in his hands than go out to a public place with his classmates, and he grieved in a different way than most people do. When his wife and daughter passed away, he hit the road with his motorcycle and most often Geddy and Alex wouldn't hear from him for months at a time. They had cute little nicknames for each other that Neil would always sign the postcards with. It was a different one every single time.

Thanks for listening to me ramble on this day guys! I really appreciate it, I know that this hasn't been your regularly schedule Dot programming but I really appreciate you sticking around! Give Rush a listen to if I've piqued your interest you will not regret it.

[kitkat1003]

The Dawn is Breaking, and I am Crumbling

Yakko is awake.  His siblings awaken, too.  Through the thin veneer of calm that is fueled by the near 70 years of acting experience they have, they keep it together enough to meet the new CEO after filming.

She’s not what they’re expecting.

This is Chapter 2 to this fic.  Please read the first chapter.

@asilcorner

Yakko lets his face drop, just for a moment, when Spielberg turns away to mess with the controls and let his brother and sister out of the suspended animation tubes.

The whole room looks far too futuristic for only 22 years, Yakko thinks.  The eerie glow from the tubes, a light blue, paints and eerie vibe about the metal interior.  He can see the shadows in the corners of the room.

Wakko and Dot, at least, look healthy.  As much as the redesign weirded him out, change of art style and all, he has to admit they kept the general feeling of their characters.  Dot still has her flower and dress, Wakko still has his sweater and cap.  The studio kept them relatively the same, though Yakko can’t help but play with the bit of hair sticking up between his ears, unused to it.  He feels the lines are a bit sharper.  Maybe this is how modern animation looks like?

The liquid starts to drain, and the polite grin is back on Yakko’s face by the time Spielberg turns around, even though his hands are shaking behind his back and he’s terrified by how this is going to turn out.

Dot’s tube opens first, and she’s picked up by metal arms and set down on the ground, and Yakko is at her side before he registers moving.  She doesn’t look lucid yet, eyes open but unseeing, but she blinks a few times and he sees the spark of recognition soon enough.

“Yakko?” Her voice is so small.

“Hey,” he smiles at her, even though it’s a bit pained, and he hugs her close.  She clings to him and shakes, but the sound of Wakko’s pod opening breaks them apart, because Yakko turns to see his little brother.

Wakko starts to cry the moment he becomes conscious, and Yakko rushes to his side because he understands, but they don’t have time to cry right now.  

Not with executives watching.  Not with the situation they’re in.

“Hey, hey, hey, bud, don’t cry, it’s okay,” Dot is right behind him, clutching him by the tail as if its a leash.  Only his siblings are supposed to be allowed to grab his tail like that, and Yakko clearly remembers that night, when the men in the task force grabbed him by it and yanked hard enough to bruise.  He shivers in memory.  Wakko sniffles, as Yakko wipes his tears.

“We’re getting a reboot,” He says, loud enough for Spielberg to hear.  Dot and Wakko glance at the man, who gives them a thumbs up.  They wave back.

“We have to put on a brave face,” Yakko then whispers.  “They don’t expect us to be sad.  It’s just like acting, okay?  Just for a day, and once we’re back alone in the tower, you can let it out,” he hates that he has to tell them this, that he has to ask they hide it away.  He wants nothing more than to let them rage and cry and scream, because they have every right to want to.

But, because they did this in 1993, when all Yakko wanted to do was ruin Plotz, when all they wanted to do was feel the sun on their fur and play without contracts or cartoons, because they sucked it up and signed contracts and did the work then, they can do it now.

They all take a deep breath.  Wakko rubs the tears out of his eyes.

They stand in a row, familiar grins on their faces.

“I think it’s time for Animaniacs, don’t you?” Yakko tells Spielberg, and he is both relieved and annoyed by the way Spielberg smiles and nods.

“You bet it is!” Dot agrees, and Wakko nods his head, tongue flopping about comically.

They play their roles well, don’t they?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first episode goes well.  Yakko helps move things along with the songs, all ad-libbed.  The new CEO is a curveball, and when she looks at him he can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up.  There’s something off about her, something he can’t quite put his finger on, that makes her dangerous.  He internally panics at how casual Wakko and Dot are around her.  Maybe it’s just him?

In the break between the second half of their debut, where Pinky and the Brain’s return plays, she tells him that she wants a meeting with the three of them once they’ve looked over their contracts.

Yakko swallows the instinct to run and nods in reply.

They also, during the break between the two segments of their return, meet up with the grim reaper, who holds out their joint contract.

“Anything to keep us away from you, huh Daddoo?” He grins up at the reaper, and said personification of death cringes away from them.

“Yes-now read it over and sign it already,” The accent from this guy never gets old.  Yakko snatches the document from boney fingers, reading it over.  It doesn’t seem any different.  A higher paycut, actually, which is nice.  He supposes already being a celebrity helps with that.  The finale clause, though, that bothers him

Upon the end of the Reboot, the Warners will become property of Death.

“Yeah, no,” he points to the clause.  “I don’t think you actually want us, and I’m pretty sure making people property has been illegal for a while now,” Death seems surprised by the clause, himself.  He glances at it, and then his eyes dart towards the CEO’s office.  Yakko’s eyes narrow.

“Of course,” Yakko watches him revise it, the reaper mumbling under his breath about That crafty woman, and once that’s been taken out he lets Wakko and Dot sign it with him.

“Your As still look like 2s,” Yakko whispers conspiratorially to Wakko, and he giggles.

Back to the show.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The office building is quiet when they go in to meet with the new CEO.  He doesn’t actually know her name.  Nora?  Norita?  He doesn’t remember her introducing herself, so maybe that’s just for the mysterious factor.

“Leave the talking to me this time, sibs,” he whispers to them as the elevator dings to their floor.  They must hear something in his voice, because they don’t argue.

The CEO is at her desk when they arrive, scrolling through her tablet while nodding along to a call she’s in.  Her eyes dart sharply to the Warners, and Yakko pushes his sibs behind him.

“Mhmm, yes, that’s very interesting.  Please hold,” She tells the person on the line, setting her tablet down and pressing a button on her earpiece.  She takes it out and sets it down on the desk, standing up.  Her heels make her loom, ever taller, over them, and her eyes are dark.

“Now, I know of your history.  Plotz spoke of you extensively, and I had an assistant watch your previous show incarnation several times.  I know how you work, your strengths and weaknesses, and your fears,” She regards them coolly, and Yakko stands tall, despite the ever mounting panic.

“You were brought back because Spielberg wanted you, and keeping him ingratiated to the studio is more profitable than the property damage you cause with your antics,” Every sentence is said with calculated precision.  Every sentence is pointed, like the end of a knife

Yakko isn’t that aggressive, but Dot certainly is.  He can feel her getting angry.  Even Wakko, the calmest of the three when it comes to dealing with things, is becoming annoyed with the CEO’s attitude.  That’s dangerous.  He grips their hands in his tight, squeezing to remind them that they have to be quiet.

“You three, of course, will bring us money, but you’re also expensive to keep around.  The nightmare that will be the publicity scandal should you come out with what happened to you these past 22 years would be...difficult to handle.  So, I think it’s in your best interests to keep quiet,” She crosses her arms over her chest awaiting the challenge.

Yakko can see it, so he doesn't react.  His siblings, on the other hand, don't quite understand the position they’re in.

“Like Hell we’ll keep quiet!” Dot jumps out in front of Yakko before he can stop her, stomping over to the CEO with a glare and a sharp toothed scowl on her face.  “I’ll make sure the whole world knows about what you did to us!”

“Yeah!” Wakko runs over, mallet in hand.  “What are you gonna do if we blab, huh?”

She’s got them lifted in the air by their tails before they can blink, gripping them tightly.  Yakko jumps, staring at her with wide eyes, and Dot and Wakko are frozen in shock for a moment, before they start trying to escape.  Dot is shouting obscenities.  Wakko keeps trying to hit her with his mallet, but it isn't long enough.  She holds them far enough away from her body that they can't reach her.

Yakko is frozen.  This is the worst case scenario.

“None of your episodes have aired yet,” She reminds them.  “I could halt production here.  Spielberg is important, but we could smooth things over with him with the right words.  He’s terribly sentimental.  And while the fans would be upset about this reboot’s cancellation, we could cite many things that would have the Warner Bros. studio come out as if we were doing what was best for the show,” She glances between the two younger toons, and then to Yakko.

“And your next ending won’t be as peaceful.  We have Dip, here, and we aren’t afraid to use it.  That’s how we get rid of new toons that don't meet our standards, after all,” She grins, then, and Yakko freezes.

They use Dip casually?  Here?  That-that’s murder.  And they’ll do that to baby toons, ones who haven’t even gotten their footing in this world.  Yakko thinks he’s going to be sick.

“So, you have one option.  Comply,” She shakes Wakko and Dot in her grip, stunning them out of their scrambling to escape.  “I’ve made things efficient here, and I won’t have that changed by toons whose character sheets should have been burned in the 1930s,” Wakko and Dot flinch, and Yakko clenches his fists.

“Now,” She takes a breath, “Are you going to quit wasting my time?  Because I have about ten calls waiting that are more important than you three,” She smiles at Yakko, and it’s one that makes him shiver again.  

“Well?  Don’t try for bravado.  I know you’re nothing without your words.”

And Yakko hates that, and he’s terrified, but she’s got his siblings held tight in her arms, by their tails, and she’s threatening them with murder, and it’s all too reminiscent to that night, where he let his siblings down.

Not again.

He pounces, teeth bared, and digs them into her shoulder, knocking her to the ground.  His teeth breaks through her nice suit coat and shirt and through skin, and she drops his sibs and kicks him with her sharp heel, knocking him back. He rolls across the floor before standing, spitting out fabric and the taste of her, wiping his mouth.  He’s trembling.  Wakko and Dot look shocked.  

He’s never done that before.

“Here’s something you don’t know,” he spits, as she stands, incensed.  “No one’s threatened us with Dip before.  So, maybe I’m not as useless without my words as you think,” She narrows her eyes, and regards him with...something indiscernible.

“You don’t touch them,” he growls it out.  They aren’t fully animals and they aren’t fully human, so they’ve got the sharp canines that put a household dog to shame and enough cognizance to know when to use them.

“You got a problem with us, you leave them out of it.  This is just you and me, got it?” He bares his teeth, a reminder of what he can do.  The smell of blood makes him want to throw up, and that’s with him trying not to register the taste.

“Yakko,” Dot tries, but Wakko shushes her.  It’s a standoff, and Yakko is more terrified than brave but he doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe, just lets the blood drip from his teeth as she holds a hand to her bleeding shoulder.

“This meeting is over,” The CEO says, finally.  “I trust you can see yourselves out.”

It’s not a concession, but it is something different than the high and mighty attitude she had before.  Maybe she’s realizing that all Yakko has to lose is them, his siblings, and that means that death means nothing to him.

Hard to beat someone who’s not so easily manipulated by fame and fortune or threats, is it?

The walk back to the tower is silent.  Dot holds his hand, leaning against him, and Wakko clutches his pant leg.  They both seem to still be in a state of disbelief.

“They have Dip now,” Dot whispers, incredulous, horrified.

“They aren’t gonna play anymore,” Wakko agrees, with the same amount of horror.  He’s shaking.

Yakko holds them tight, as best he can, and they go home.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first thing he does when they get to the water tower is direct Wakko to the kitchen and Dot to her dressing room area.

“Eat and get ready for bed,” He says, weary and exhausted.  Wakko’s blood sugar levels need to steady out, and Dot needs something to keep her mind off of what happened.  Directing them to something that they can lose themselves in the motions of is easy.  He knows them too well.

They don’t protest, nodding.

He goes to the sink and gargles water, over and over, until he stops spitting out pink.  He brushes his teeth six times.  Scrubs his tongue raw.  Washes his face.  Doesn’t look at himself in the mirror until he’s sure he won’t see that dark red anywhere.

He doesn’t regret his actions, but he certainly isn’t proud of them.  

When he comes out of the bathroom, their bunk bed has been made a large king size one, and Wakko and Dot are waiting for him.  He quickly slips into some pajama pants and heads over to them, getting in the middle so they can snuggle up against him.

“Yakko?” Dot starts, and he can feel the fire in the back of her throat.  “Don’t-Don’t you ever say that.  That people can do bad stuff to you, if they keep us safe.  You did it before and you did it now and I can’t-we’re a team.  We don’t sacrifice each other-we can’t-you can’t do that to us,” Ever word is pushed out, like she has trouble knowing that she has to say it.  

“You’re everything to us too,” She finally says, halfway to tears, and Yakko can’t swallow the lump in his throat to reply.

“Stay,” Wakko pleads.  “You can’t give yourself up for us.  You have to stay,” A man of few words, and yet they strike Yakko right in the chest, as he holds them tight.

He rubs their backs until they’re almost asleep, staring at the glow in the dark star stickers on the ceiling.

“I’ll try,” he mumbles, and it’s not as much of a promise as it is a hope, but they’re too close to sleep to try arguing.

When he finally drifts off, he doesn’t dream at all.

[ihearthes]

Farmers’ Market

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x y/n Rating: Fluff Word Count: 2.8k

Summer Feeling Challenge sponsored by @helladirections

Vibrant yellows, pinks, greens, and red catch my eye as I take in the variety of fruits and veg in front of me. Wow. How is it possible to have this much beautiful fresh produce in one spot? Placing the essential ingredients for my favorite salad in a basket, I approach the counter. Having ridden a bicycle to the market, I’m fairly confident it will all fit in my knapsack for the return to my flat. 

Hearing his voice causes my entire body to freeze. Well, not completely because my heart is like a wild animal trying to break free from captivity. Regular beats, steady, but louder than my friend Steph had been at his concert in Philly. 

“Hi, I’m looking for some kale, and you don’t seem to have any,” His voice is as deep as the grooves in one of the gravel roads back home in Springfield, and the shiver that travels up my spine is a violent and silent storm. 

Shit. Had I taken the last of the kale? Maybe I can surreptitiously put it back so he doesn’t notice? Wait just a doggone minute! Why the fuck should I give up my kale? Just because he’s my favorite musician in the whole world and he’s somehow standing at the very same green-grocer’s as I am? That makes zero sense. 

A statue, I debate my options. 

Buy my produce and leave before he notices me. But then he might realize that I’ve taken the last of the kale. 

Put the kale back and choose spinach instead? My strawberry salad will taste lovely with spinach. But it truly is best with kale. 

Wait until he leaves and hope he doesn’t spy the kale in my basket? Suddenly, I’ve got the urge to pee. What if he’s here for a long time? 

Put on my sexy voice and offer to share my kale salad with him? This option causes me to smirk while my tummy resembles a popcorn popper with kernels scattering in every direction. Stepping to the counter, I quickly throw my items at the woman while he’s engaged in conversation with a different clerk. 

“That’ll be £14.35,” the woman says, and I withdraw a £20 note, quickly passing it to her, holding my breath that I can escape before he approaches. Not daring to look backwards, I squeeze my change in my fist as I rush to fit in with the crowd strolling the Parliament Hill Farmers’ Market. It’s not until I’m at the end of the stalls and near my chained bicycle that I slow down, breathe, and risk a glance behind me. 

“What did you think? He was going to chase you down and tackle you for the kale?” Steph screams at me through the phone. Naturally she had been my first call as soon as I arrived back at the flat my company had rented for the duration of this London business trip. 

“I didn’t know, Steph! It’s like sixty degrees out there, and I’m sweating like I’ve just run a marathon in ninety-degree heat.” Removing the items from my knapsack, I wash them, laying them out to dry on a towel. Using my fingers, I pull my shirt away from my chest and shake it to allow air to flow better. 

“You’re the only person I know who can meet Harry fucking Styles on her first trip to the farmers’ market! And you’re deffo the only one who would turn and run away! How did he look? What was he wearing?” Her words are BB pellets like my brothers used to shoot at cans back home. 

My words are quiet and stutter as they emerge like a new butterfly from a cocoon. “I didn’t look.”

“WAIT JUST ONE GODDAMNED MINUTE! What do you mean? How could you not look?” Her volume has increased to the level that I might need to remove my Airpods so as to not damage my ears. Then her voice lowers. “What if it wasn’t him?”

Shit. I hadn’t considered that. “No. It was definitely him. Come on. How many times have I listened to his voice?”

“Maybe it was just the British accent.”

“Steph, I’m in London. Everyone has a British accent. I’m telling you. It was him.”

My best friend sighs. “Okay. I believe you. The fact that he was right there, though, and you didn’t say or do anything…” 

“I got the hell out of there. What do you mean I didn’t do anything?”

“Maybe you’ll see him next week. Will you talk to him?”

A soft smile crosses my lips. “Nope. Come on, Steph. You and I have always had a pact that we wouldn’t bother him if we saw him in the wild, and I’m sticking with that.”

----------

“My boss and his wife are coming by tonight, so I want to put together a fruit and cheese plate.” I tell the vendor at Bath Soft Cheese. “Can you give me some suggestions?”

“Oh. I can!” A voice next to me says, and I’m a rigid piece of lumber. What are the fucking odds? Shit. 

“Thanks, Harry,” the gentleman at the table says. “I’m going to help this couple.” With that, I’m left alone. 

Carefully, I swivel my neck to make sure I’ve not lost my mind -- or the plot as my colleagues might say. But no. It’s him. Definitely him. 

I drink him in. Wearing a hoodie with his own name over the heart and a pair of shorts that are more for walking than jogging, Harry (fucking Styles!) points towards one of the cheeses sitting on the bed of ice. 

“This one is a vegetarian cheese, and it’s my sister’s favorite. Best paired with thin apple slices because they make the cheese with apple cider. So delicious.” He glances at me, and I feel faint from the deep green of his eyes. Fuck. Up close and in person, they’re brilliant. They shine (Shine! Step into the light! Shine! So bright sometimes!), and I have to blink so that I can nod. 

“Awesome. Thanks,” I move to take the cheese. 

“Oh, but this one,” he points to the next one over, “is their Bath Soft, and it’s best served with grapes.” Harry Styles, explaining cheeses like he’s an expert cheesemonger, makes me smile. “Personally, I wouldn’t serve a blue cheese to guests unless you know they like it. So many people take offense to blue cheese.”

“Right? I love blue cheese. Especially in a salad. It’s got that bite to it,” I blurt out, and then clamp my mouth shut as I realize I’ve started to relax in his presence. Which is downright stupid as I might inadvertantly disclose something incriminating. Like how many of his concerts I’ve witnessed live.

“Yes! I’ve got this great kale salad recipe with blue cheese and walnuts!” His excitement is the same as that of a puppy spotting a treat; tail practically wagging the whole backside. 

From deep in my belly I feel the giggle build up, and I fasten both hands solidly over my mouth in a pathetic (and useless) attempt to contain it. 

His joy is contagious, though, and I can’t help myself. “Does it have a balsamic vinegarette? Because I have one that’s so good I can eat it every night for a week. Oh. Never mind. That’s the recipe I have with candied pecans. Not walnuts.”

Holy shit. I’m actually standing in a farmers’ market in London discussing recipes with Harry Styles. Perhaps I’m going to pass out? Or maybe I’m hallucinating? Or dreaming? 

“Candied pecans? Sounds yummy. There’s my friend. Gotta go! You can’t go wrong with those two cheeses I mentioned! And maybe treat yourself to some blue cheese too. Just for you.” He winks with his right eye and flashes the dimple my way before he disappears.

----------

My third week in London, and I climb onto my bicycle a full two hours before the usual time I had traveled to the farmers’ market the last two weeks. My license plate should read “Determined to Dodge” because it’s freaking me out a bit that I’ve seen Harry twice in the same place. And they say lightning doesn’t strike twice. Ha! I’m making sure it doesn’t strike thrice. 

“I’ll take the plain goat’s cheese,” I instruct the vendor, and after money is exchanged, she hands it to me and I move to place it directly into my backpack. After nearly a month, I’ve got the hang of this farmers’ market shopping, it seems, and I’m pleased to have arrived with a set shopping list for the first time. 

“Yum.” Harry’s voice comes over my shoulder, and I’m startled enough to nearly drop the damn cheese. HOW IS HE HERE? “What’s your plan for that?”

“Um,” I bite my lip. “Goat cheese, honey, and fruit crostini.” Feeling emboldened, my lips continue speaking as though this superstar and I are friends, “I’ve been debating the two beekeepers, but I don’t know which has the better honey.”

Today he’s wearing a pair of blue jeans that fit wide on his hips along with a peach button-down shirt and a newsboy cap. “Oh, then I think we should definitely go have a taste at each. My lady?” He holds out his crooked arm, ready for me to take it like we’re in a 1940’s movie. 

What’s even crazier is that I follow his lead and add, “Lead the way, sir.” It’s ridiculously silly. And so much fun. His playful side makes me feel charmed, less like a fan and more like an acquaintance. At the first beekeeper, we each taste the regular blossom honey. 

“Oh, that’s fantastic,” I whisper as I slide the wooden stick across my tongue. 

“Hey, you can’t give in yet. We’ve not tried the other one. We’ll be back,” he says over his shoulder to the vendor as he escorts me away. “Maybe,” he adds once we’re out of hearing, drawing a giggle from me. 

Holy shit. I’m relaxed around Harry Styles. What is happening to me? Boundaries! I need boundaries. 

“Oh, my!” I breathe as we arrive at the Local Honey Man’s booth. “There’s too many options.”

Knowingly, Harry nods. “Indeed there are. So maybe we need to back up. You’re doing plain goat cheese on what kind of crostini?”

“You mean what bread am I using? Oh, I was thinking either a thinly sliced sourdough or a baguette.”

“Mmmm...excellent choice. I can recommend some bread next. What fruit are you planning to use?”

His question makes me laugh involuntarily. The great performer and entertainer Harry Styles is asking me what fruit I want on my crostini? Why?

“Well, I’m thinking it’s that time of year for peaches or nectarines. Either of which would be amazing.” Placing a finger to my chin, I survey him. Fuck. He looks so wonderful. Fresh. Friendly. Not at all like a celebrity. Just a normal Joe -- or Harry -- that one might meet at a farmers’ market on a Saturday morning. As I observe him, I feel myself starting to shed some of the barriers between us. He’s just like me, I think. A food connoisseur. Someone who enjoys the local atmosphere. 

“Oh yes,” he pauses, smacking his lips. “I can taste that now. Okay, so with that combination, I would recommend either the lemon zest infused honey or the British Borage Honey. Personally, I think the cinnamon honey might overpower the flavor of the goat cheese.”

“You know what? I think you’re right. My goal is for all of the local flavors to come through, so perhaps going with a non-flavored honey is the best decision. Thanks, Harry.” And then I freeze again because I know I’ve let my tongue get away with a horrible slip by saying his name. Wanting to cry, I bite my lip and turn to the vendor. With tears in my throat, I ask, “I’ll take a jar of the British Borage please.” 

The merchant wraps it quickly, handing it over in exchange for my money, and I nervously twist towards Harry, expecting his glare over my rudeness. It’s almost like he’s oblivious. As I place the jar of honey in my bag, he grabs my hand. 

“Let’s check out breads!” 

Running behind him, I’m puzzled by what had just occurred. Shouldn’t he be upset? Freaking out? Wondering if I’m a stalker?

“Here’s my recommendation,” he says as we stop at a stall with a sign reading ‘The Flour Station’. They’ve got a wonderfully tangy sourdough baguette. If you slice it thin, then layer on the goat cheese, honey, and finally the peaches, it will be a perfect meal.”

When I request the baguette, the owner nods and wraps it for me. As he hands it over, I turn to Harry and extend my hand. “Thank you for your help, kind sir. I’m confident this will be the most amazing meal.”

Staring at my hand suspiciously, he ignores it. “Nearly lunchtime,” he announces. “Any chance you’ll join me for some Indian food?” With his head, Harry gestures towards the Mumbai Mix stand. 

As I consider the implications, my head starts to move from side to side. Never meet your idols. That’s what the voice in my head whispers. 

“Please?” His eyes take on a look that is as close to begging as I’ve ever seen in any human. “Look. I’ll be honest. These days I don’t meet many fans who would go out of their way to avoid me like you do. Most want to move into my house immediately. It would be nice to extend our time a bit. After all, it’s just a meal in the middle of a crowded London farmers’ market. How scary can it be?”

Blinking, I carefully think about my response, but instead the words that escape are “You knew I was a fan? For how long? And how did you know I was avoiding you?”

“Fair questions. Place your order, and we can talk about the answers over lunch.”

Now my curiosity has been peaked. At the vendor, Harry requests the Dosa Wrap while I order the samosas, and we step to the side while they’re being prepared. 

“That first time.”

“Last week you mean?”

“No, the first time. You remember. At the green-grocer’s.”

My face likely flames red. “You saw me? You noticed me? I didn’t even so much as look at you.”

His hearty laugh makes me tingle. “Noticed you? Of course. You’re gorgeous and golden and stunning. And your American accent grabbed my attention. Why did you run?”

The giggle starts at my toes and bursts forth like a bird flying from a cage. “Um...because I’d taken the last of the kale.”

Resting his hands on his knees, Harry chuckles loudly, drawing the attention of other patrons. As the restauranteur hands over our plates, Harry carries both to a nearby table. 

“And last time? You jumped a mile when I suggested helping you with the cheeses.”

Burying my face in my hands, I groan. “Harrrrrrrryyyyy. Before I came to London for work, I made a promise to my best friend that if I saw you in the wild, I’d leave you alone. So it was quite awkward that you were the one who approached me. And holy hell! How did you know I would be here today at this time? I came early so I could shop before you arrived!”

He picks up his wrap and takes a bite, chewing carefully. Taking guidance from him, I gingerly grasp a samosa and tear into the dough, immediately savoring the potatoes and spices inside. 

“Mmmmm,” I murmur, and my tongue flicks out to rescue a bit of flavor still on my lips. 

“‘In the wild’?” he inquires, and I’m confident the blush now covers my entire body. 

“You know. Like if I saw you at a show or a public event, it would be different. Then I could fangirl and ask for an autograph or a photo or whatever. But at the market, you’re not working. You’re just like everyone else -- shopping.” 

Knowingly, he nods. “I appreciate that. Truly. Not everyone respects my private time. So thank you. But the truth is…” There’s a pause, and I nervously nibble at the samosa in my hand, worried about what he will say next. “...once I noticed you, I couldn’t ignore you.” Clearing his throat, he smiles in a friendly manner. “How did your boss enjoy the cheese and fruit plate?”

“Wonderfully,” I respond, “But not as much as I enjoyed my kale salad with blue cheese, blueberries, strawberries, and candied pecans.” A smile tilts my lips upwards, possibly exposing my own dimple. 

“I’m sure,” he murmurs, “I’d love to taste it sometime. Care to make it for me?”

“Hmmm,” I playfully consider his request. “Are you confident you’d prefer that to goat cheese, honey, and fruit crostini on sourdough baguette? It’s all local.”

A/N:  Thanks for reading. Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this. 

[emachinescat]

That I Could Fear a Door

A Tales of Arcadia: Trollhunters Fan-Fiction

By @emachinescat

Summary: Jim had thought that going back home, back to the real world, would be an easy and painless process. He thought it would be simple - it should have been simple. It wasn’t. A reimagining of Jim’s return from the Darklands, where he quickly finds that adjusting to real life after so much trauma isn’t as easy as one might think. 

Words: 5,639

TW: PTSD, depression, panic attacks

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

Years I had been from home,

And now, before the door

I dared not open, lest a face

I never saw before …

I laughed a wooden laugh

That I could fear a door,

Who danger and the dead had faced,

But never quaked before.

- From "Home" by Emily Dickinson

Jim had thought that going back home, back to the real world, would be an easy and painless process. After all, during his weeks in the Darklands, first alone and searching the endless shadows, then hunted like an animal, then captured and beaten and forced to fight for the sport of others, hadn't he dreamed endlessly of just that? Of seeing the sun again, of seeing his friends, of hugging his mom, of cooking and eating and training and playing video games and slacking off on homework? He thought it would be simple - it should have been simple.

It wasn't.

The first few moments after crashing back into the over world were indeed euphoric. There was the sun, filtering in through the branches of the trees. It took all of his self-control not to stare straight into it. Even in the evening breeze, there was a warmth in the air that he hadn't felt in so long that it seemed more like a memory. He lay there, flat on his back in the grass, wishing he could feel the soft tickle of the blades on his skin, but trapped in his Eclipse armor. Still, he was free.

Much of the next hour was a blur. He later would recall a few hazy moments - hugging his friends, receiving the amulet from Blinky and finally - finally - shedding the stifling second skin of the Eclipse armor, trying to convince Nomura to stick around, Claire semi-joking about how bad he smelled, and the word free chasing itself around in his head like a dog after its own tail. Free, free, free!

He would always remember in perfect clarity the moment he hugged his mother again, but that hadn't come until later the next week. He wanted more than anything to go to her immediately upon his escape, but Toby and Claire convinced him otherwise.

"What's she going to think if you come home looking like … well, looking like… that?" Toby demanded, gesturing unhelpfully to Jim as a whole.

"And the smell…" Claire added, also unhelpfully.

"You have been through a great ordeal, Master Jim," Blinky reminded him gently. "If you go home now, there will be questions you cannot answer and not the rest you need."

And so Jim reluctantly agreed to go home in Toby's stead with Aaarrrgghh while Toby covered for him at home once more.

It was surreal, Jim found himself thinking as he stood in the Domzalski household's upstairs bathroom, shower already running hot behind him and Aaarrrgghh just across the hall, waiting for him in Toby's room. Just this morning, he had woken up in a cage on cold stone, in a state of perpetual, gnawing hunger that had become the norm, hanging on to the tiniest thread of hope that today might be the day he was finally rescued - but knowing deep down that it was much more likely to be the day he finally died. Now, he had a full stomach for the first time in nearly a month. He was with his friends, safe, electric lights warding off the darkness that had been his hell for so long. Hot water waited for him, beckoned for him. He could be warm and clean again. Just a few days ago he had said something about how much he missed soap. He should have been happy, he thought miserably. Maybe happy wasn't the right word. He was very happy to be away from the Darklands, from Gunmar and Dictatious and goblins and monsters. But he wasn't content.

He also couldn't bring himself to undress. He had been standing in front of the mirror for a good five minutes now, as steam billowed out from behind the curtain and fogged the glass, obscuring the face he'd barely recognized anyway. Good riddance, he thought half-madly, for the boy in the mirror was a warped doppelganger, touched by death and despair, with his sunken eyes, wan skin stretched too tight over abnormally prominent cheekbones, dark, puffy bags under his eyes, and a smattering of bruises and cuts pulling the whole package together with a sickly little bow. His hair was a bit longer than he usually kept it, matted and caked with dirt and blood. It felt crusty to the touch, and brittle somehow, as if it would crumble to dust if he tried to brush it.

He looked bad enough as it was from the neck up. He had no desire to see what awaited him beneath his filthy clothes. He wondered blearily how they had gotten so disgusting when they had been underneath his armor the whole time. Sweat and revoked shower privileges would do that to a person, he finally reasoned, and at once he found he couldn't get in the shower quickly enough.

He stripped off the offending garments with an urgency he hadn't felt even at his most desperate moments in the Darklands, nearly tripping over the edge of the tub in his haste to get in. He was relieved that the mirror had fogged, but he still avoided making eye contact with it just in case.

The water burned his skin, but he turned it hotter, attacking his hair first with nearly half a bottle of shampoo, applying and rinsing, applying and rinsing, until he couldn't see from the suds cascading down his face and the murky water ran clear. He conditioned once, something he'd never done before. He didn't know if it did anything, but it made him feel cleaner.

And then he was scrubbing himself all over, the water reddening the skin on his arms (he studiously avoided looking anywhere else), again and again, as if trying to peel his very skin off. Dirt and sweat and blood poured off of his battered body and he watched it meander toward the drain in a detached sort of way before resuming his frantic washing.

It wasn't until his skin was so raw that he felt like he was an onion peeled of its top few layers that he stopped, breathing heavily, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him, nausea roiling as he regretted the deli sandwich he'd scarfed down earlier. Knees weak, he found himself sinking to the floor of the tub, knees drawn up awkwardly to his chest. The water pounded on his head, back, shoulders, and he let it, slipping into a kind of sleep-trance, watching the water swirl around his feet before making its relentless way to the drain. He thought of nothing, felt nothing, and only broke out of the haze when the water grew cold and panic lanced through him at the loss of warmth. He turned off the water, more tired than he could ever remember being in his life, somehow managed to stand up on wobbly legs, wearily slid back the shower curtain - and froze.

Since he'd been in the shower so long that the water had gone cold, the mirror had also de-fogged, and he found himself unwillingly confronted with the specter that he had been hoping to avoid - his reflection.

Before he'd been captured, he'd scavenged for food and found himself eating something mostly every day, so he'd been nourished but always hungry. After he'd been taken, however, any meals - and he used that word lightly - were few and far between. They'd fed him just enough to keep him alive. He could see now from his emaciated frame that they had still essentially starved him. He'd been Gunmar's prisoner for what felt like years, but it had to have been a week at most.

Still, close to a month without a reliable food source had done its work: He'd always been skinny, but now he could see, fully defined, every rib. Any muscle mass, lean though it might have been, that he'd gained during his training was gone, his arms weak and frail looking. His armor had protected him from extensive physical damage all the times that he had been beaten or tossed around like a soccer ball, but his whole torso was mottled with bruises of all colors, shapes, and sizes, all in different stages of healing. A good deal of them were centered over his ribs, and he winced as the pain that had been his constant companion flared up. He wondered vaguely if he needed to see a doctor. He wouldn't be surprised if Gunmar had cracked a few in one of his rages. He cast the thought aside - how would he explain the state he was in? - and turned abruptly from the horrible, somehow shameful image of his battered body and quickly dressed in the pair of pajamas Toby had let him borrow. They would have swallowed him whole on a normal day, but now they made him feel tiny and breakable and pathetic and weak, and he only kept them on because he hated the way he looked underneath even more.

He offered a simple "G'night," to Aaarrgghh before falling into Toby's bed, expecting to fall asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.

To his surprise, and to his irritation, sleep refused to come. He couldn't get comfortable. The bed was too soft, the blankets too warm, and the moonlight making its way in between the cracks in the curtains toyed with him, tickling his eyelids with the suggestion of light and making it impossible to fall asleep. There were none of the noises he'd come to grow accustomed to, either - no faint buzzing of the magically reinforced bars holding him in, no tromping footsteps of the guards, no click-clacking of goblin claws or snorts or whistled operas or snarls or distant, echoing screams…

In the end, Jim tossed and turned, sick with fatigue and enraged at how cruelly sleep evaded him. He finally, mercifully fell into a restless, nightmare-filled slumber around five in the morning, but even the worst of the dreams didn't wake him, exhausted as he was, and he was trapped back in the Darklands, suffering torture after torture at Gunmar's hands, until he woke again eighteen hours later, on a cot in Troll Market.

He had been moved there at dusk the next day when his coma-like slumber pressed on and his friends, who had not realized the extent of his injuries or exhaustion, grew worried. Vendel had examined him while he slept, expertly bound ribs that had indeed been cracked, and performed all the healing rituals and magic he knew to be safe for a human. Even so, he'd warned Jim, who felt numb and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, it would be a week before he could even begin to regain his strength and pass as his old self, and longer for him to truly be back to the same physical shape he had been in before he'd gone to the Darklands.

And so Jim stayed in Troll Market, under Vendel's care, for another eight days, while Toby got to put on a magical mask and pretend to be him and have his life and hug his mom. Jim tried not to be bitter about it, but it was hard. Blinky and Aaarrrgghh spent all their spare time with him, and Claire and Toby came to Troll Market after school every day and kept him company until they were expected home. Jim talked to them, laughed hollowly, took the homework they gave him, and then retreated within himself as soon as they had disappeared out of sight.

It will be better soon, he kept telling himself desperately. I just need to get out of Troll Market, go back home, get back to my normal life. Once I'm feeling better and things are back to the way they were, it will be like I never left.

Once again, he was very wrong.

***

In the weeks that followed his re-emergence into his real life, Jim discovered very quickly that the life he had left was either very different than he had remembered it to be, or that he himself was very different than he had once been. He supposed both might be a little true.

Being in his mother's embrace was the only thing that felt completely safe and normal after his return. He didn't care that she had just grounded him; when he finally saw her again, he hugged harder and longer than he could ever remember doing, and he had felt better, more like himself, until he'd tried to go to sleep that night and the cold returned. The next morning, he had attempted to do his usual routine like nothing had ever happened, but even that familiar motion felt hollow and the smile he flashed his mom before leaving for school barely concealed the emptiness just beneath the surface.

Other than that first hug, everything else around him, including his friends, school, good food, trolls, even his mom - all things he had coveted during his time in the Darklands - were strange and foreign to him.

Claire and Toby, though they did their best to be understanding and supportive, were obviously thrown off by his sudden mood swings and sullen attitude. They seemed distant and somehow unfamiliar, and Jim found himself feeling awkward around them, unable to figure out what to talk about or why he should laugh at the joke Toby had just made. Didn't they understand that none of this really mattered? There was so much darkness and pain and fear just beneath the skin of this world, and if they scratched the surface just a little too deeply, it could break loose and destroy them all. So he did what he could to avoid these awkward moments all together, and barely noticed the hurt and disappointment blooming in their eyes as he shut them out and walked away.

He'd thought school would be a great return to normalcy, but everything about it grated on his nerves. Even the cheers as he returned to campus - Congrats on beating Jim Lake Disease! - made him feel claustrophobic. He barely held it together anytime Steve cornered him, his heart racing madly in his chest like it wanted to escape, with or without him. The teachers were demanding, the sound of the lockers made his head ache and reminded him too much of the sound of a cage door slamming shut, and once, when Coach had grabbed his arm to show the class proper movement for a volleyball serve, raw, animal fear had overtaken him, and he'd flipped the teacher onto his back and scurried, terrified, under the bleachers. He barely remembered it, except for the pain in his chest, the short, insufficient puffs of breath, and Claire finally coaxing him out after class dismissed and herding him to the nurse. It was a panic attack, she'd said, eyeing him with concern, and had he had any drastic life changes, any unusual stressors? He lied, because he couldn't do anything else, and she told him to consider seeing a counselor anyway.

"Maybe the nurse is right," Claire said on their way to Troll Market that evening. "You're obviously struggling with this. Maybe you should go to counseling, or something." Her voice was soft and soothing, like she was talking to a wounded beast. Perhaps she was.

Jim laughed, a harsh, cold sound that stopped his best friends in their tracks. "Oh, sure, I'll just do that," he said sarcastically, hating himself as the bitterness dripped from his lips like an overflowing witch's brew but unable to stop the words or the emotions that spawned them. "I'm sure there's plenty of shrinks out there that can help me with my troll-induced trauma."

One of the things he'd missed the most was food - good food, not soupy nightmare-creature eggs or slimy soup made from monster meat that was probably not good for humans but that he had scarfed down on the rare occasion that Gunmar had deigned to feed him. Now, he ate because it was expected of him, but he barely tasted the food. Even his favorite recipes were like ash in his mouth, and cooking didn't bring him the pleasure it once had.

If Claire and Toby were baffled by his behavior, their confusion was nothing compared to that of Blinky and Aaarrrgghh, his two closest friends and trainers in Troll Market. Blinky had fretted on more than one occasion that perhaps they had brought home a changeling Jim somehow, not the real one. After all, Jim Lake, Jr. was kind and funny and fun to be around, and this new Jim was brooding and dull and never truly present. Jim saw the worry in Blinky's six eyes and in the anxious set of Aaarrrgghh's jaw, and it saddened him - just not enough to shake him from the waking hell his life had become. Training was a monotonous routine as he gradually built his strength back up, and even Draal, perhaps the least emotionally-inclined of the trolls save for Vendel, found himself hesitantly asking the young Trollhunter if he was okay, if there was anything he needed that might help him feel better. Jim gave him a half-hearted smile, truly touched, but said no. He wasn't sure anything could fix this hole that had been drilled inside of him. It was too dark, too empty, and it hurt too damn much.

His mom had noticed a difference in him too, but she was at a complete loss. Jim tried his hardest to be his old self when he was with her, and being in her company did bring back a spark of his personality, but even so, he saw the concern in her bright blue eyes whenever she looked at him, and he'd seen her at school in conference with Seňor Uhl, and knew that she was trying to get any inkling of what was eating away at her son. Claire and Toby were no help to her, either, for after she had cornered them after school one day, demanding to know what had happened and why Jim was behaving so uncharacteristically, they had taken extra care to avoid her, unable to say or do anything to ease her worry.

***

And so this went on for nearly two weeks before Toby, Claire, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, and Draal met up with the sole intention of finding a way to bring their friend back. He was suffering so much, and no one could truly understand what he had gone through.

"He clearly has signs of PTSD," Claire said heavily, clarifying for a befuddled Aaarrrgghh: "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"This… order?" Aaarrrgghh drawled, eyes wide in concern.

"Disorder, big guy," Toby corrected, heaving a weary sigh. "It means he's been through something traumatic, and he can't deal with it."

"Well, how do humans usually deal with their trauma and stress?" Blinky asked, always straight to business.

Claire and Toby exchanged knowing glances. "Most of the time, we don't. We just avoid it all together," Claire admitted. "But when someone has been through something like Jim has - extended periods of isolation, being a prisoner, abuse - it's not enough to pretend it doesn't exist." A tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away with the heel of her hand angrily. "I knew he'd be in bad shape when he came back," she admitted. "But he was so happy to see us when we rescued him that I thought that maybe he would be okay."

"What do humans do if they cannot ignore this trah-mah?" Draal enunciated the unfamiliar word. It was quite endearing to see such a hulk of a beast with so much concern in his dark eyes.

"Usually, they see a therapist," Toby supplied.

Aaarrrgghh frowned. "There - I - pissed?"

Toby snorted in almost manic laughter. "Therapist," he repeated, still chuckling. "A person who goes to school to know how to help people with their problems and stuff."

"Well," Blinky said, a new light in his eyes, "we shall venture forth and find Master Jim one of these therapists! Then he'll be back to his old self in no time!" He noticed the dubious expressions on the humans' faces. "What? Are the therapists extinct?"

"No," Claire replied. "But Jim was right - he can't talk to anyone but us about what has happened, and he obviously has no interest in talking to us!"

"Yeah," Toby chimed in, "if he went up to a shrink and told them that he had been stranded in a dark, forbidden hellscape searching for a lost child and then was the prisoner of a crazy troll that wants to escape his eternal prison and conquer the overworld… he'd be thrown in the loony bin for sure."

"So it's hopeless." Blinky's arms fell limp at his sides. "We can do nothing to help Master Jim escape the clutches of PDSC." Neither Toby nor Claire bothered to correct him. Blinky continued, "Is there anything else that might help Master Jim? Anyone else that he might talk to that would not throw him in this 'loony bin'?"

Claire opened her mouth to say no, but shut it abruptly, the light of an idea sparking in her eyes. "Actually," she said, the hint of a real smile making an appearance for the first time in a very long time, "I think I have an idea." When six pairs of eyes locked onto her hopefully, she added, "And it might even be a good one!"

***

When Jim got home from school two days after the secret meeting between his friends he was surprised to hear someone bustling about in the kitchen when he opened the front door. His mom worked late on Tuesdays, and anyway, her car wasn't in the drive. He reached his hand into his bag, paranoia growing, and his fingertips had just brushed the curve of his amulet when a tall Asian woman wearing a smart pantsuit limped into sight. His bag fell to the floor.

"Nomura?"

It was odd seeing her in her human form; after spending so much time around her changeling form in the Darklands, he had forgotten that she was quite pretty as a human. "Hello, Little Gynt." Her voice was also much less grating in this shape, but he found he didn't like the softer tones as much anymore.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, picking his bag up and hanging it on the stair rail, though he closed his hand around the amulet first, clutching it tightly in one fist. It wasn't that he didn't trust Nomura - she had proven herself to be a loyal, if reluctant friend - but because he had come to associate her presence in general with danger. If she noticed his cautionary measure, she didn't mention it. "I thought you left," he added as an afterthought.

"I did, but I came back," she replied vaguely. A stab of annoyance shot through Jim, and even the negative emotion came as a relief - he had felt nothing but fear and numbness since returning home. The change was nice, even if it was fleeting.

"Why?" His eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you were worried about me?"

She studied him with dark, serious eyes for a long moment. "I don't worry about anyone," she finally responded.

Jim felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. She said this, but he could see beneath the surface now. Their time as prisoners of Gunmar had shown him that there was much more to the changeling than met the eye. He waited for the consuming awkwardness that always set in when he was around his friends to descend, but to his surprise, he continued to feel relatively comfortable around Nomura, more at home than he had in a long while.

"Shouldn't you be in a wheelchair or on crutches or something?" he asked, gesturing to her legs. Normally she wore dresses, so he could only assume that the legs of the pantsuit hid some spectacular bruises. "I thought your legs were really hurt."

"They were broken," she agreed. "But my kind heals quickly." She moved forward slowly, then sat on the couch. "They still need a bit of rest to recover fully, though."

Jim sat down across from her in an armchair. "I can't remember if I ever said - thank you, for believing me, for helping me escape." He paused, eyes on his fidgeting hands in his lap. "For being kind."

"Well, I'm more than just a pretty face," Nomura said, and it was impossible to tell if she were joking or not. After a companionable silence, she asked, "So how have you been holding up, Little Gynt?"

Jim didn't know what it was about her, but something made him want to tell Nomura about sleepless night after sleepless night, about the nightmares that plagued him whenever he finally collapsed from exhaustion, about the cavern that had been dug seemingly overnight between himself and his friends, about how he either felt nothing or everything at every moment, about how loud footsteps made him anxious and how physical touch - except hugs from his mom - made him want to wither into himself or run away screaming, about how he had had all these expectations about what life would be like on the other side of Killahead Bridge, and how none of them had come through. He gave her a weak smile, and said, "I'm fine."

An undefinable expression flitted across the changeling's features. "Yeah, kid," she said finally. "I'm fine, too."

***

After that, Jim came home on Tuesdays and Thursdays, his mom's late days, expecting Nomura to be there, because she always was. Sometimes they'd have a cup of tea and sit in silence. Often they'd talk about mundane things - Jim would talk to her about school and his mom, and Nomura would talk about anything from opera to history to art to the strange old man who had flirted with her at the laundry mat Sunday night.

These visits, as ordinary as they were considering she was a changeling and he the Trollhunter, slowly seemed to draw more of the old Jim back out into the light. Talking to Nomura was different than talking with his friends; perhaps it was because she had been there with him in the Darklands, had suffered alongside him at the hand of Gunmar. And the more he talked to Nomura, the easier it was to talk to his friends, too. Slowly, the cavern that had been dug between him and his friends, troll and human alike, began to shrink, and he laughed aloud at a stupid pun Toby made at lunch, and he didn't retreat into himself every time a locker slammed. Still, there was a barrier between himself and his real life, the one he wanted back more than he could express but that was always just out of reach.

He found himself actually complaining to Nomura about this three Tuesdays after he had first found her waiting for him in his home. "Toby spent weeks wearing a magical mask and pretending to be me and to have my life," he said. "Sometimes I just wish that I could put that mask on and be me again too."

Nomura was quiet for several seconds, and then she told a story that seemed to be very much off topic: "When I was a child, I was told stories of the human world. It was a wonderful place, full of light and life and the sun…"

"What does this have to do with-?"

"Shut up and let me talk." When Nomura told you to do something, you did it or risked life and limb. So Jim wisely shut up and let her continue. "I grew up longing to go to that world, to see the sun and to feel the warmth and the light. The surface world was a fairy tale, and I was a little girl who grew up in the dark. Nothing else could have spoken to me more.

"But when I was finally given my chance to come into the world, to take the place of a little Asian-American girl named Zelda Namura, I was separated from my parents and my home, all alone in a world I did not understand, and it didn't matter how much I had dreamed of the sun, it wasn't what I had expected at all.

"Adjusting was… difficult. It was not until the human body I had replaced had grown older and was taken by her family to the opera that I found something that connected me to this world, something to enjoy, something of beauty. But it wasn't until I met another one like me, here in Arcadia, while under the employ of Bular, that I truly felt at home."

"Mr. Strickler," Jim realized.

"Yes. There's something very special about talking with someone - even if it's someone you're not crazy about - that understands you, where you've come from, and what you've been through."

"Is that the moral of this story?" Jim asked, partially touched, partially exasperated. "Are you trying to tell me that talking to you is going to make all of this go away because we've been through the same thing?"

Nomura shrugged. "Who knows? I just think it's a good story. You can take what you want from it."

Jim smiled.

And then everything, like water pushing relentlessly at a weakening dam, broke.

***

Jim could never remember crying the way that he did that evening. He didn't think he was sad, exactly, or hurt, or even angry anymore - he was just exhausted and overwhelmed with everything that he had gone through but kept to himself. The fear and humiliation of his capture, the paranoia that his friends were never going to trust him after he betrayed their them and went to look for Enrique without them, anxiety about Gunmar and the paralyzing horror every time he wondered if there was any way he could have followed them out of the Darklands, how he was having trouble connecting with the world he'd always known, the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the numbness and terror that followed him interchangeably, the way that every touch to his arms sent him back to his prison, being dragged painfully between two trolls strong enough to rip him in half with one swift yank…

He talked and cried and had no fewer than two panic attacks, and Nomura just sat there quietly all the while, watching with an unreadable cocktail of emotions in her eyes. When he had finally quieted, his heart feeling both emptier and lighter than it had since before he had made his journey to the Darklands, she simply handed him a packet of tissues she had packed in her purse and asked, "Better?"

He offered her a sniffle and a watery smile, unable to speak anymore, too stunned to fully process what had just happened. She stayed by his side, just being there, until his mom's headlights shone through the blinds. She would climb out the bathroom window and into the night.

Jim slept peacefully that night. If he had bad dreams, he didn't remember them.

***

It was a slow process, even after the cathartic conversation with Nomura. Jim slowly found himself acclimating more and more to his old life, with friends, school, home life, and even troll hunting becoming things to look forward to rather than dread. Loud noises and unexpected touch still startled him, but he was able to ground himself more easily now. He fell into a routine very similar to the one he'd had before, what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Cracked ribs, bruises, and cuts healed much faster than emotional scars, but at least he knew, in time, he would be okay. He was acutely aware that nothing would ever be exactly the same as it had always been, though. What he had gone through was something no person, no teenager especially, should have to experience. And while he had entered the Darklands of his own volition, none of what had happened to him there was his fault (at least that's what they told him; it would take a long while to truly believe that himself, but that knowledge, like everything else, would come in time). He had been isolated in the dark, on the run, hunted, captured and held in deplorable conditions, starved and beaten, forced to fight for his life, and nearly broken beyond repair, but he had made it this far.

Things might never be as they were, but he could forge a new path from here. He could grow stronger, adapt, overcome, and prove to Gumnar, to his friends, to troll kind, and to himself that he was more than what had been done to him. He was more than pain and trauma and helplessness and fear and rage.

He was James Lake, Jr., Jim to his friends, the first ever human Trollhunter, the son of Barbara and student of Blinky, Little Gynt, and even, he supposed, Buttsnack. Some days he would only feel like some of these things. On bad days, he wouldn't feel like any of them.

But he wouldn't forget the truth. He wouldn't lose sight of who he was so completely, not again. And, if by some horrible twist of fate he did, he knew now that he had an odd but utterly complete assortment of friends - humans, trolls, and even a couple of changelings - who would help him fight his way out. Out of the Darklands. Out of the past and pain and dark recesses of his own mind.

And into, as cliche as he knew it was, the light.

[i8jisoo]

Ok hottie u asked and u shall receive I have a request for you So it’s sort of based on Old Me and I was thinking what if Luke is just an absolute mess, using and abusing drugs drinking every chance he gets and he turns into a monster when he’s drunk/high so his girlfriend finds out she’s pregnant and he’s like ok cool and doesn’t take it seriously until he gets a call while he’s high that she’s in labour and shows up to HIS OWN KIDS BIRTH HIGH and that’s his like turning point and gets sober

𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒  ⇉  old me  

➢  old me by 5sos

“shout out to the old me and everything he showed me.”

you always were patient, you understood his feelings and tried to accept his actions. through all of the arguments, the break-downs, and the exits, you took it. there wasn’t an exact date you could remember the last time you had seen luke sober, you couldn’t remember his last time he came home before midnight, you couldn’t remember when he last told you he loved you, and you couldn’t remember the last time you saw him up and laughing with you while you bonded with petunia or made dinner together. you couldn’t see him as your boyfriend, you couldn’t see him and you last for much longer, nor could you see him in a few months with his child. 

“never a night alone, anywhere you wanna go. woke up in the morning wearing someone else’s clothes.”

“lu, i think it’s time to come to bed now.” you murmur, hearing luke in the living room while you peered out from your room that you had just finished setting out fresh clothes for luke in. luke came in, his clothes saturated with the scent of weed and alcohol, making you grimace and scrunch your nose at the scent. you walked towards him, helping him steady his 6′4 large frame. you gave him a smile, holding onto his wrist before you felt the tug away from your grasp. your smile dropped, luke murmuring a few drowsy words before looking the other direction. “why are you acting like that? i’m trying to make sure you don’t fall, let me help you lu.” you chided, luke giving you an eye-roll in response and a cold shoulder. “i don’t need your fucking help, get off my balls.” he says, stumbling away from you while you follow him into the bedroom. 

“just go.. go do something useful for once instead of standing around. fucking sick of you.” he sighs, “go!” his voice raising, which you turn for the exit and leave him alone in your room that you two used to sleep in together. the bed you used to sleep in together, the shower you two used together, and the intimate moments you two shared together in there. you took your spot on the bed in the guest room, listening to the rustling in your main bedroom. your hands would type in interviews from today, checking the feeds on social medias and seeing how he did today. it garnered a few suspicions that he was high during an interview today, which you probably could confirm he was due to the scent of him, but his glazed over eyes, slightly tinted red, it was a dead give-away. you cringed at his movements, looking at him gaze around the room with half-shut eyes. 

“pictures in my phone, with people i don’t know. woke up in the morning how the hell i’d make it home.”

luke couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen you without being high or drunk, he remembered very vaguely your last conversation. you were sitting in front of him, nervous as ever. he saw the way your lip trembled, the way your eyes bubbled with tears. he barely remembered the small white plastic stick in your hands, he barely remembered when you settled a sonogram in front of him, he couldn’t remember what words you exactly told him. he couldn’t remember what you described the future as. luke could remember the look settled in your eyes, fear and anxiety. luke could remember how he was high, luke definitely remembered him shrugging it off and telling you that this was fine. he could hardly remember the thoughts that ran through his head at the thought of being a father. he could remember when it turned bitter though, he remembered the large tear in your relationship.

“and they wondered how long i could keep it up. while i wondered if i’d ever, if i’d ever get enough.”

settled on the couch, finally having a decent moment with luke, seeing his soft interior and as-well as the rest of your friends were over. you let the silence float between you two, sipping on a glass of water while you heard the small chatter. you spoke up, “so, i don’t know if luke has told you guys. i don’t really know much anymore but, there should be a new hemmings in a few months.” which garnered the surprised reactions, feeling a bit anxious. they never really spoke to you about luke, not wanting to make it seem like they were there to be friends with you due to the fact that you were his girlfriend, but they didn’t want to say anything wrong. especially with the way that luke was acting now, they didn’t want to talk about his sobriety to you. 

“so, i was thinking about him and maybe like, therapy? i honestly don’t know, rehab?” you admitted, the air around you all becoming thick. you knew that maybe it wasn’t the best to discuss this with his friends but, you felt about wits end with this. you so desperately wanted to help him, you wished you could help him yourself, but this wasn’t for you to fix no matter how much you loved him. they could tell your heart was in the right place, but they also didn’t know you as well as luke’s other girlfriends. they very vaguely heard about you, now hearing about this future hemmings, it was a bit odd. “well, whatever is best. we’ve seen these past few months to an extent, so y’know you talk to him about that. i don’t think i have any room to talk about him.” ashton explains, calmly which was nice compared to the glares that you were receiving from michael and calum. 

“and i did some shit i never should have done. i would do it over now, i’d do it over.”

“understand what i’m saying lu, this isn’t you. none of this is you!” you shouted, a migraine and stress pulsing through your head while you argued with luke. “i’m not trying to make you feel like a crazy person or a bad person, you just need help.” you explain, seeing luke’s pacing in the living room while you were settled on the sofa. your hand was nestled on your bump, luke sighing. he shakes his head, “no fucking way. i’m not going to fucking rehab! not for my fans, not for my friends, not for my family, and especially not for fucking you.” he goes on and on, stopping in front of you before taking his leave to the nursery which you followed him to. you stopped in the doorway to your heart dropping, there was the first sonogram you ever had, the glass cover attached to the frame shattered and crumbled to shards on the floor. 

luke’s hand swiped to push off the abundance of onesies, socks, and hats on top of the drawer, neatly placed and folded. the two stuffed animals were shoved off, his hands dug into the drawers and practically almost tore the wooden boxes from the frame of the drawer. more clothes were on the floor, surrounding luke while he ranted and let out his feelings. “don’t you see? don’t you see i don’t care? just get the fuck out, don’t.. don’t call me until you’re ready to stop controlling my life.” he shouted, your hands dropping to your sides before you gave him a shrug. you turned around, looking at the mess, everything you planned by yourself and the hopes of turning to a new leaf with him. you sighed, “hope you’re happy luke hemmings, you have quite the life.” with that, luke watched you walk out. you walked out with a heavy heart and the feeling that you had failed as a mother. 

“another round here we go, going in blow for blow. look into the mirror take the punches that i throw.”

luke received your call that day, so fresh from one of his new friend’s house, high as sky is the limit, he made it down there and was met with his friends with their girlfriend’s who were in the waiting room. he saw the looks from them, he saw the disappointment in their eyes and the almost pitiful glance. “she’s uh.. room 456 with ash and kaykay.” calum murmured, looking everywhere but luke’s worn appearance and his glazed over eyes. he nodded and mumbled a thank you which calum didn’t acknowledge or respond to. while luke was in the elevator, he suddenly could remember what you told him, he could remember you telling him you loved him and how you were afraid of doing this all alone. he could remember your lingering hand on his own, luke remembered the soft tone that was almost as sweet as honey and as soft as rain. he remembered the tears that came down on your porcelain skin as if raindrops were hitting a glass pane window. he remembered his careless tone, his careless words as if he didn’t care. he remembered the day you left, it was him. when he saw himself and he thought about himself, he didn’t want that. god, he was the problem, wasn’t he? how could he live with himself, knowing he was pushing away the sliver of hope for him. he was pushing away everything that mattered to him, he felt disgusted, disgusted he turned to this person. 

with the elevator coming to a halt, luke walking up to the front desk in the maternity ward, checking in. his hands pulled the door open, the sound of the heartbeat, the warbling noise, it was comforting. there was ashton, bed-side while kaykay sat in a chair next to them on standby. “hey.” luke breathed out, all of their heads picking up to look at his voice filling their ears. “hey luke.” ashton responded, giving him a monotone type response. luke was captivated by you though, this was probably his least haziest moment he had with her this whole year. your hair was pulled back and your body covered in a white sheet, your bump covered by the hospital gown. your hand was in ashton’s own, multiple needles going into your hand. you smiled at him, quickly breaking eye contact and focusing on the wall behind him. “i can take it from here. i can handle this shit.” luke murmured, taking steps forward to the bed where ashton was at. ashton brushes him off, “never said you couldn’t alright? we’ll go back to the waiting room.” ashton says, kaykay nodding in response and suddenly the room felt smaller. luke watched the exit, pulling the chair up next to the side of the bed. 

“i’m constantly reminded of all the compromises, by the people from my past who have a hard time letting go.”

the next few hours of small bickering, then the long and painful hour of the pushing, luke held your hand. luke gave small whispers of encouragement, his lips only centimetres away from your ear. the moment you heard the cheers, your head resting against the pillow while you silently cried and you smiled when you heard the words, “it’s a baby girl!” the small baby girl placed against your chest, now hearing the loud cries from her. luke could’ve sworn he would drop dead at the sight of you, the mother of his child, and his daughter only minutes old on your chest. he saw the disappointed look on your face when you had to hand her over to the nurses to be checked out, pressing a kiss to your lips for the first time in months. your breath hitched when it happened, luke having the feeling that you didn’t love him anymore, and he didn’t blame you. he couldn’t, not after the way her treated you, not after you stayed until luke made you leave. 

his hands could barely even cut her umbilical cord with the surgical scissors, trembling hands from the mixture of anxiety and him slowly sobering up, also the thought that maybe she could feel the cutting of the cord, he slowly cut before hearing the little applause from the nurses. he regretted it all, he felt the regret when he heard she was seven pounds and four ounces, he regretted it when he he saw her little squirm in the cot. luke regrettted staying away when he washed her, cleaning the identical blonde curls that he had. he regretted these past nine months because it took him so long to appreciate it before it was gone. he heard the soft gurgles that escaped from her lips, feeling her chubby soft cheek pressed against the crook of his neck. 

luke pressed a kiss to her head, feeling the identical blonde curls brush against his lips. when he handed over the little girl, looking at the two of you together. his heart sunk, he had spent nine agonizing months of arguing and pushing you away, he spent no time learning about his daughter.

“devil at my door, got me knockin’ knockin’ knockin’ on the other side.”

luke daintily held your hands, sniffling while you were crouched in front of him. he lately had been struggling after detox, scared of going back to his ways. he had closed the door behind him in the bathroom, you hearing the clattering of a few objects but finished feeding your daughter and then putting her down before you could go check on luke. there he was, sitting on the floor with his head between his knees while you heard incoherent murmurs from his chapped lips. his hands trembled and your feet made contact from the smooth hardwood to the cold, hard tiled flooring. “lu?” you called out, now in this position. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i can’t- i’m scared. i don’t want to want it anymore, i need help. i’m scared.” he rambled, concealing his face with his hands. your hands slowly and gently pulled at his own, moving them away from his face. there were the bags underneath his eyes, the tears stinging and staining his eyes red. they slowly made their way down his pale, porcelain skin. your fingers made their way to brush them away, your lips pressing against his cheek. “i’m proud of you.” you breathe out, seeing luke’s blue eyes light up and stare back at you. there was the embarrassment, the anger, and the sadness behind his eyes.

“i know this is hard lu, but i’m proud of you. i don’t expect you to recover easily, but just you being able to go to detox and you coming in here instead of letting yourself lose control. it shows me that i know you’re getting progress, this all is going to take baby steps. luckily we have a very cute daughter, we also have time. we have people, people who will support you and aide you during this. soon you’ll be okay, i may not know for sure, but time will tell us both. i wanna show you something.” you finish, helping luke up from the floor and letting him take hold of your hand while you two went back to the living room.

“look at her, she’s you lu. she’s all yours, that came from you.” you murmured, taking him down to the floor and picking up your daughter from her spot. luke slowly took his spot next to you, his head laying against your shoulder. there she was, his light, his motivation to make a change in himself. she let out a soft coo, hand clutching to his point finger that he held out for her. 

“we’re in this together lu, us three.” 

“ashes on the floor, but i’m walkin’ walkin’ walkin’ outta here alive.”

[emmakillianfan]

A Christmas Story for You

To @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ for Christmas. While I haven’t had as much time for it as I had hoped, I hope you are having a wonderful Christmas and enjoy this little story that kind of got away from me. Merry Christmas and a very happy new year to you!

Due to illness and post graduate studies I’m a bit rusty on the fanfiction story writing, but I hope you enjoy it. I have loved the opportunity to be your secret santa. As I said from the beginning, I’m a big fan of your writing.

Getting to Know You at Christmas

Emma Swan hated to mingle at these social events her parents held each year as a welcome to the holiday season. Her mother easily socialized with people, remembering names and details of each person’s life in the coastal town of Storybrooke, Maine. Her father was just as gregarious, shaking hands and clapping older gentlemen on the back as the mused over details of long-ago exchanges and funny occurrences that she never quite could understand. She liked people, even had friends. But there was something missing for her from the conversations and laughter that seemed to lift over the swell of Christmas carols and the flashes of lights from the tree and cameras snapping shots of huddled groups of friends, family, and compatriots.

“Your mother is worried about you,” Ruby Lucas-Gale said with a knowing smile as Emma reached for another mini pizza and shoved it in whole. “You don’t look happy.”

Keeping her lips sealed, Emma shot her friend a plastered smile and shrug.

“You could at least move away from the bar. She’s going to think this is a re-do of last year’s party where you went to bed with a bottle of tequila under each arm after telling everyone that you were sleeping until the new year.”

“I should have kept that promise,” Emma groused, giving a slight wave when her mother looked at her pleadingly. “I could have avoided the Christmas Karaoke party at Victor’s, the cookie exchange at your grandmother’s, and let’s not forget the pot luck at Regina and Robin’s where I was shamed for bringing your grandmother’s frozen lasagna as my contribution. Not only had Regina made one, but I didn’t even realize it was still frozen.”

“You brought a pie too,” Ruby reminded her. “I don’t remember anyone noting that was store bought.”

“I ate it in the car working up the nerve to go inside because my mother set me up on a date. Who does that? Blind dates on Christmas?”

“She means well,” Ruby added consolingly, patting her hands down her red dress that seemed to creep up her toned thighs each time she moved. “And Graham was…”

Emma held up one hand in protest. “Don’t defend him. First he was your ex. He was nice but a little or more than a little too intense with his whole getting back to nature and communing with animals thing. My mother has horrible taste in men for me. For a woman who believes in fairy tales and calls my father her prince charming, I don’t think she would survive a day on Tinder.” It had been the long running commentary at the parties that somewhere in the crowd was there to be set up with Emma. Some who did not partake in the dancing or singing along around the piano would try to guess who it was going to be this year. Bets were currently on about a gawky man with a green tie who was currently chatting up Zelena Mills in the corner.

“Just remember she means well.” Linking arms with Emma, Ruby pulled her friend out onto the makeshift dance floor and began to sway her hips to the beat of a modern Christmas tune that Emma knew was by some current pop singer. “So I’m guessing your next date is in here somewhere. Where oh where could he be?”

“You are annoying,” Emma pouted, folding her arms over her chest yet still swaying a bit to the up-tempo beat. “I thought you had money that guy in the green tie.” He was the typical type her mother would love to see her date. She could hear the school teacher turned public servant now telling her how she just knew he was the kind of guy she would love to get to know.

“Possibility,” Ruby said, tapping her bright red lips in mock thoughtfulness. “What about Archie?” He’s been hanging around over in that corner in a conversation with Regina and Robin for a little bit now. Seems to look over here every once in a while.”

“Everyone is looking at you, Ruby,” Emma hissed in exasperation. You are showing more skin that is advisable with the temperature and you’re currently bumping and grinding to Christmas tunes.”

“Maybe he’s setting up some pre-marital counseling for them. Okay…one of the guys from the mines? Leroy?”

“That’s a tad incestuous since they are practically my uncles.” Emma scanned the crowd to see her father and mother in conversation over by the French doors leading out to the patio that had been sprayed with twinkle lights and that included a new audio system he had spent the day fiddling with as her younger brother tried out the microphones in his own rendition of some sort of heavy metal meets classic rock rendition of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. He was just 14 and still at that awkward stage, suffering the embarrassment of parents who doted and friends who loved to point that out to him. Her own son idolized him though. “I’m thinking he’s a no show. My mom is in her plotting mode. Look at the way she’s talking to my dad.”

Sure enough her parents were furtively whispering, her mother holding up a hand to hide her mouth as though nobody would notice. It would be debated for years to come which of the two women noticed him first though. A slender, tall man with piercing blue eyes and sardonic smile seemed to rush up to her parents and hug them in turn. Even though Emma couldn’t make out the words, her father gave the man his double shoulder clap before spinning him about to the crowd and pointing out a few people.

“Maybe him,” Ruby said, lifting onto the balls of her feet even higher than her shoes allowed and balancing herself against Emma. “He’s a hottie.”

“Doubtful,” Emma noted, swinging her gaze across the room to the man in the green tie who was now eating a banana and doing nothing for his resemblance to a simian creature as Ruby had declared. “I don’t have that sort of luck. My mother doesn’t…” She never got to finish the sentence when she noted who had just entered the party and made a line straight toward greeting her parents. Neal…the once love of her life turned affection into weapons and her self confidence into a puddle of what if. She was better now, but the sight of him seemed to jangle her nerves in a way that made her doubt her recovery. They managed to co-parent their son with little trouble, but he wasn’t one she wanted to see socially. The fact he always had a date on his arm just added to her discomfort.

Ruby was one of the few people who understood. Twirling her in the direction of the mystery man who was now noshing on a few of the crisp veggies without bothering to dip them into the various sauces, Ruby leaned in and whispered loudly in Emma’s ear. “Don’t question it. Just go introduce yourself. It’ll be less awkward that way.”

Emma would forever question the logic in that, but for the moment felt her feet begin to move one after the other and in no time she was standing in front of him. His eyes were even more striking up close and she caught a whiff of his cologne that was a spicey scent that she would later blame for her mouth watering and her words feeling like they slid off her tongue without regard to custom or reason.

“Emma,” she said by way of invitation. Her smile was a little forced and her hand held out in mid air a beat too long as he shoved a celery stick in his mouth and raised his own in greeting. “I guess my parents probably told you that.”

“Your parents?” he repeated, the smiled he was giving her lifted higher on the right side of his face as did his right eyebrow. He seemed to be surprised by her, almost as if he was not expecting the conversation. That irritated her a bit.

She gave a wave over her shoulder to where they stood by the fireplace. “Mary Margaret and David. The Nolans. You were just talking to them.”

“Aye, David and my older brother went to school together back in the day. They invited me to…”

She brushed off his explanation. “No, I get it. It’s so them. They don’t think I have any skills in that area at all. Apparently, they have given up on finding someone local.” She shrugged and when he seemed he wasn’t going to answer, she reached across and grabbed a carrot stick. Placing it in her mouth she made a face and immediately removed it. “Rabbit food.”

“You do know how to flatter man, love. I’m not sure I would want to be just one of the multitudes.” His smile was wider as he watched her, his questions about her easy and slick as she tried to explain that her parents were young when she was born and waited nearly two decades before their miracle child was born. He seemed to know nothing about her, which was odd for a set up. Maybe he was just being polite.

“So you’re not from around here,” she asked when he paused to take a drink. Even over the rim of the cup his eyebrows raised again. “I’m the sheriff. I sort of notice things like accents. I do sort of like accents like yours. Different than other guys around here.”

“Boston by way of London,” Killian answered. “And you, love? Always a resident of this seafaring town?”

“Most all my life,” she admitted, leaving out a few pit stops along the way. “Mom probably told you that the best place to take me for a dinner date is Granny’s. She loves it there, plus Granny will spy on us and give her updates every few minutes. I’m more into this Italian place near the docks. Awesome seafood and pasta. And their lasagna isn’t frozen. It’s more date like, I think. You know, checked table clothes, drippy candles, wine, and all that.”

“A classic romantic?” he asked, clearly amused.

“Well, I mean if we have to go out, it makes sense to go someplace like that.” She held out her hand and gestured to his phone. “I’ll give you my number in case mom hasn’t already. A date is a date, but might as well get a good meal out of it.”

“By all means,” he said, handing her the latest device on the market. She noted that he did everything with his right hand, his left staying next to his side and covered in a black glove. She was about to mention it when she heard her father’s voice and laughter.

“You’ve met our Emma,” David said, joining the duo at the table and placing one hand under Emma’s elbow. “Our daughter can be a bit blunt. I hope she hasn’t insulted you or made you change your mind.”

“Dad,” Emma said, swatting him playfully.

“She’s been absolutely brilliant,” Killian answered, shoving his phone in his pocket. “By the way, love, name’s Killian Jones. I don’t believe I properly introduced myself.”

David nodded knowingly. “Killian is here to work with your mother on her bid for the mayor’s office. He’s a wiz when it comes to all things in local politics. Very highly recommended.”

“Work for mom?” Emma asked weakly, trying to ignore the not quite so humble smile that played about Killian’s mouth. “You mean he’s not…”

“Of course, Regina is taking time off to plan her wedding and then get settled into married life. She recommended Killian to run your mom’s campaign since Archie is considering and Mal has already announced. Anyway, it is good you met. Killian’s going to need to talk to you about your role in promoting our family. Maybe you can meet up at Granny’s later this week.” David glanced around the room and gripped his daughter’s arm harder. “I wanted to introduce you to someone I met when I was buying supplies for the farm. His name is Walsh.”

Emma stammered a bit, her face turning pink as Killian continued to hold that smile that showed both bemusement and cockiness. “Walsh…”

“Go ahead, love,” Killian said. “We’ll finish our conversation at this Granny’s or perhaps you might like the atmosphere.”

Emma was sure that her face was bright red as his eyebrows lifted up and down in a way that made her wonder just what lascivious thoughts were rolling around in that head of his. She felt those blue eyes on her as her father made another excuse and led her over to the man in the green tie who was smiling nervously at her and oblivious to her discomfort and not so secret looks over at Killian Jones.

She nodded appropriately and even asked a few questions about Walsh and his furniture design business. Her own rental was outfitted with castoffs and hand me downs that had seemed comfortable and worn at the time. He was telling her why it was important to have pieces that spoke of her uniqueness and character. At least that was what she heard on the occasions she bothered to listen and didn’t internalize the flinches and groans as her parents introduced Killian Jones to every person in the room. She wasn’t pleased to see most of the single women giggling and flashing him flirtatious smiles that he easily returned. There was no need to be jealous, but still the emotion was creeping up her spine as she watched him actually kiss Ruby’s hand like something out of a novel.

“I could show you sometime,” Walsh interrupted. She jumped at being caught unaware and repeated the words back to him in hopes of making some sense of the situation. “My shop. I have some really beautiful pieces I think you would like.”

“Well, if I am ever in the market,” she said, realizing that he was holding out a business card with his personal number written on the back. “Have you met August and his father Marco. They do some of the most beautiful woodwork you have ever seen. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

“We were right about the monkey guy,” Ruby said defeatedly, kicking off her shoes and reclining on the bed in Emma’s childhood bedroom. The room didn’t quite do justice to the angsty teen she had been, but still boasted teen idol posters of boy bands and even the dollhouse brought by Santa one year. “But that other guy was cute and quite the charmer. Even I was about to hit on him. I had such high hopes for your mother.”

Emma flinched as she unclipped her hair and left it to fall around her shoulders in soft waves. “Yeah, so he’s not my set up of the year. Yet I asked him out, sort of. I don’t know. I made a fool out of myself.”

“He didn’t seem too offended,” Ruby suggested. “I mean I was distracted once Dorothy agreed to dance but every time I looked in his direction he was looking in yours. And I might add that was pretty often.”

“Right, he was probably trying to figure out what was wrong with me.” Emma was about to bemoan her embarrassed state a little more when her phone dinged out one and then another text message. She reached over to grab it and groaned with the realization. It was Killian. Ruby immediately wanted to know what he had to say and proceeded to inspect the picture he sent just in case Emma was confused if he was the guy in the green tie or not.

“Emma, you might have had a rough start, but he’s hot. And he’s clearly interested. Why else would he text?” Passing the phone back, she shrugged. “And let’s face it, you and commitment aren’t that strong of allies. He’s from out of town. Mary Margaret said he travels all over to do these little campaigns. I’m seeing excellent fling material.”

The text was taunting her, a coy comment about Italian restaurants and then a reminder of who he was with the picture. “I should answer him. I mean it would be rude not to answer, right?”

“Your mother would say not to be rude to anyone, but I’m telling you there is no reason to be rude to that guy.” Ruby reached over and grabbed a 10 year old magazine from the table, clearly bored with the conversation. “But I mean it is up to you. Text him. Don’t text him. Your choice.” Ruby flipped the pages casually, bringing up what dresses Regina was going to want them to wear at her wedding. She insisted that red wouldn’t be that garish at a Christmas event. It wasn’t until Emma refused to correct her that Ruby even looked over cautiously. “You haven’t texted him?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“You like him, don’t you?” Ruby propped herself onto one elbow. “It’s written all over your face.”

Emma shoved the phone back in her bag and let her head loll against the mattress as she sat cross legged on the floor. She rarely was in this room now, but somehow it felt comfortable and almost nostalgic to discuss dating and boys with her friend just down the hall from her parents. At least she wasn’t practicing writing his name with hers or anything like that. “I don’t get crushes.”

“You’re much too tough for that.”

Emma wasn’t exactly wrong about her aversion to crushes. She was in her twenties and already sheriff of the small coastal town. She wore practical boots or sneakers more than heels and her long hair had not seen princess curls in months. This event at her parents was the first time she’d worn a dress except to church. “If I did, and I’m not saying I do, what difference does it make. I’m a grown woman, mother of a 10 year old, and I have a career. I’m hardly going to make cootie catchers and see if his name comes up after saying some horrible rhyme.”

Ruby nodded thoughtfully and went back to the magazine. “Not to mention horribly ugly and boring. I don’t know how I put up with you.”

“You are going to pay for that one, Ruby,” Emma laughed, tossing a pillow and joining in as Ruby cackled with laughter. They were both laughing so hard that Emma barely heard the familiar chirp of her phone ringing. Holding up a hand to silence her friend, she shushed her and reached for it. She only hoped she sounded less winded than she felt as she said her own name and waited for the response.

“I hope I didn’t call to late,” a male English accent sounded on the other end. Even without seeing him in person, she could already picture that bemused smirk and light in his eyes. “I meant to check back with you, love, but time got away from me and then you were gone.”

“Oh um…good…I mean great…I mean you didn’t call too late,” Emma gestured wildly at her friend who was making choking signs in response to her word vomit. “But why did you call?”

“Well, love, you did give me your number,” he reminded her. “I tried texting, but didn’t get a response. I thought perhaps you were screening, but I had to give it a shot. I was hoping you might have a bit of time for me tomorrow – breakfast perhaps? I know you said you preferred that little Italian place, but I have never known such an establishment to be open very early. Perhaps that Granny’s, you spoke of? We could save the Italian place for our dinner date. I have been craving some ravioli lately.”

“Date?” Emma stammered, ignoring the way that Ruby looked ready to pounce. “I…”

“You did sort of ask me out and I must say it was a masterful way to do so. I would love to accompany you for dinner, Emma. But first we have a bit of business to discuss about your mother’s campaign. Breakfast then? 8 a.m.? Granny’s?”

“I’ll be there,” she answered dully as he spoke politely for a moment about thanking her for her time.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

Emma’s father had not gotten the memo that she was going out for breakfast, as he was flipping pancakes onto a large plate as she descended the stairs, handed her son his permission slip for the field trip, and dodged the family’s collie that seemed to be underfoot. Her mother showed no signs of worry as she sipped her morning coffee and reminded Emma to wear a scarf and hat as she consoled her husband that there were not too many pancakes and Emma wouldn’t have eaten them all anyway.

She pulled her yellow bug up in front of the diner, taking the last of the spots at 8:05 a.m. That was early for her and not a big worry that she was late for meeting with Killian. That was until she walked in, kicked a bit of the snow off her boots (the black ones with a heel that were in her old closet and could not be described as practical – don’t judge), and spied Killian at one of the booths talking to Tink. The bubbly blonde was petite and perfect, a face and voice like a cherub in a painting. Every year she had the solo at the church choir’s Christmas Eve performance and every year people wiped away tears at her beautiful rendition. She didn’t look very angelic as she perched on the edge of her seat and leaned forward to talk animatedly with Killian. Her smile flashing at him and even an occasional stroke of his arm with her hand to emphasize a point. Even in the 90 seconds she had been standing there kicking her boots and unwinding the mile long scarf from her mother, she had watched the waitress stop by and lean across the table to give Killian quite the view down her shirt.

Ruby must have noticed too, as she left her spot behind the counter and fluffed Emma’s hair with an encouraging nod and a teasing note that Emma was wearing lip gloss. Spinning her with one hand on her shoulder, Ruby sort of nudged her in the direction of the booth with a hissed reminder to smile.

“Killian,” Emma said, ignoring the pout from Tink, whose real name was Isabella but didn’t want to be confused with the town librarian, Belle, “sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, love,” he said, scooting out to stand as she arrived. “I was going over a few notes for the kick off and Tink here was catching me up on some of the ideocracies that make small town politics so fun.”

Emma flashed a quick smile at her childhood friend, watching her slink out of the booth and tell Killian she was in the town directory if he wanted to call. He did not follow her with his eyes as she sashayed toward the door, nor did he smirk like Emma wanted to do when Ruby called after Tink to tell her that she still owed for her morning tea. It wasn’t that she disliked Tink, but there was that feeling that made her feel ill when she saw her flirting with Killian.

He gestured for her to sit down a simple glance toward the counter sent the waitress scrambling to bring them menus and take their orders. Or maybe it was just his order, as he had to call her back to get Emma’s. Despite his seemingly healthy eating style the night before, he matched her order of a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon. Granny had even fancied it up with chocolate shavings.

His questions were easy at first, wanting to know about her childhood and then her job. While a few were personal, he did not seem to be prying. She even managed to ask him a few and he offered some answers of his own without objecting too loudly and then quickly getting them back on track. She learned of his naval experience that paid for his education and how he had become involved in the campaigns and politics of small cities and his love of the ocean and aged rum.

“So is your position as sheriff an elected one?” he asked, casually resting back in the vinyl seat across from her.

She was taking two sips to his one when she noticed the way he smiled as he watched her. Instinctively she raised her hand up to swipe at the whipped cream that might have gathered on her nose but found none. “What?” she asked in exasperation. “Did I make a mess?”

“No, I am simply enjoying watching you share your experiences as sheriff. Your passion for it shines on your face, love.”

She knew she was probably blushing and rolled her fork through the home fries as a distraction.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

For the next few days they saw each other often. There was the announcement of her mother’s candidacy where she helped place signage. She ran into him when she went to inspect a license of one of the vendors at the skating rink and ended up sharing a drink and conversation. While pondering which type of creamer to buy, he popped up out of no where and offered a suggestion. He was even there when the church choir had a rehearsal, claiming he was talking to some potential volunteers. He did apologize for that when the choir director called Emma out for missing two of her cues in a row because she was watching him, in the words of Regina, make doe eyes at her and silently flirt.

In the mean time, her mother had been talking up Walsh’s skills in design and potential as a date for Emma. There was now a gaping hole in the living room at the farm house where her mother was having him design a custom entertainment center. Her brother was already complaining that the television on the floor was not the greatest idea. Emma tried to explain Walsh wasn’t her type, but her mother wasn’t hearing it and was asking when she was seeing him again. Given that she had not saved his number and had mutually agreed with him that they weren’t really each other’s type it seemed unlikely. However, Mary Margaret was so cutely sure she had done well this year that Emma hadn’t the heart to tell her.

One morning over doughnuts at the station her mother read the speech Killian had written for her campaign and asked her daughter for feedback. Emma offered a few remarks as the woman adjusted the clutter on her father’s desk.

“I think he’s handsome,” her mother said at one point. “Kinda has that mysterious look to him.”

“Who?” Emma asked distractedly. “Dad?”

It was the pronoun game.

“No, I was talking about…” The phone ringing cut off what Emma was sure was a pep talk about Walsh. The conversation was left unfinished as Emma went to investigate the case of the missing trash can lids. Spoiler: some of the kids were using them for sledding.

It was a full two days later before she saw Killian again. Granted he had texted a few times and called her “by accident” when he claimed he had meant to call her mother to discuss strategy. He was humming a tune and scrolling through his tablet when she and her son, Henry, spotted him inside the library. Apparently, he had set up shop in the corner and had everything but a receptionist there to greet visitors. Her son, who had heard his name a few times from his grandparents, pointed him out in a totally obvious way that made Emma want to crawl under the table. Somehow she managed to take a few steps closer and do more than the wave she originally planned.

“Nice office,” she said of the table he had commandeered. “Quiet I guess.”

“It has it’s perks,” he offered. “I was heading over to talk to your father. He said he would be at the station this afternoon. I take it you are not?”

“Short break to get my son home before I go back to face the files on my desk.” She knew her son was already done checking out his three books and would be joining them any second. She only hoped he would not blurt out an inappropriate question. She was about to send up a silent prayer when she noted that the glove Killian normally wore on his left hand was off and a synthetic material prosthetic was in its place. Before she could say anything, he looked down at the hand as though surprised by it and shrugged.

“Naval accident, an accident.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize,” she said not sure what else to say about it. It was clearly an old injury and hardly one she had a blame in causing.

“Tis an old pain,” he told her. “Most days I don’t really think of it.”

She nodded, glancing at her son who was still in conversation with Belle. “Does that mean you are getting more comfortable with me?” She instantly regretted saying that, as it came off a little weak.

“You do seem to put me at ease, love.” He winked at her and leaned a little to the left as her son ran up beside her. “You, lad, must be Henry. Your grandparents tell me you are quite the author.”

Henry nodded enthusiastically and continued the conversation for a few more beats, nearly forgetting his mother was there. Even a comment from another patron, Will, that Killian was clearly trying to get to the mother through the son, went unnoticed by all but Emma who stood taller and tried to let it slide. Killian was quite the conversationalist, observantly noting that Henry was holding a book on piracy along the New England states. That really got them going until Emma reminded Henry that she needed to drop him off at home to meet the tutor and get back to work.

That was how she ended up with Killian sitting in her living room and then the two of them walking side by side back to the station to interview her father. He opened doors for her, asked her less probing questions, and complimented the way she handled one of the boys known for getting into trouble with a stern look and warning. She was starting to feel natural about it all when he stopped short at the wreath decorated double doors and scratched behind his ear.

“I was wondering, love,” he said, shifting his eyes to the door and back to her again. “Rather I was hoping you might…well, bloody hell, I was hoping to ask you on that date. I gather you weren’t aware of who I was or why I was here when you sort of asked me.”

“I thought you were the guy my parents set me up with this year. It wasn’t my finest moment.”

He smiled nervously, his lips tight and his eyes again darting to the doors. She realized he was looking to see if her father was lurking. “It was rather adorable actually and I was thinking…”

She closed her eyes as he searched for the words, something she was sure he rarely did in his life. He always seemed to know the perfect thing to say and the perfect way to say it. “Killian, you don’t have to…”

“And if I want to?”

“Then maybe we could meet up tomorrow evening? Or wait no…tomorrow is the winter carnival for the kids at the orphanage and I am hosting the movie portion. Maybe Thursday…no Henry’s got his soccer game. I would say Friday but I’ve got choir practice and Saturday is mom’s campaign rally.” She truly looked sorry about her schedule as she shifted from one foot to the other.

“Busy lass,” he muttered. “I suppose we’ll have to consider another time. Or by chance are you free this evening?”

Biting down on her lip, she closed her eyes briefly. “I want to say yes, but my father is in there and I’d rather not mention this to him. And given that my son is likely to either eat potato chips and chocolate milk for dinner, stay up past bedtime for video games or inappropriate movies, or worst yet burn the place down in an attempt to see what he can melt in the oven, I’m thinking I need a back up babysitting plan that doesn’t include my parents.”

“Rather not hear the I told you so? Or are you hoping to keep me your little secret?”

“My parents are a little on the enthusiastic side when it comes to my love life.” She tilted her head back for a moment and then made eye contact again. “I have a plan, but you have to swear to me that we won’t be going to Granny’s or any place else they would be spotted.”

He assured her that paper napkins weren’t on the menu. “I have no issue with being circumspect, love. Trust me, I can plan an evening for us.”

If she didn’t trust him, she didn’t show it as he ushered her inside and greeted David. His cheeks were a little red from the cold and she knew hers were too. However, David never seemed to notice their conversation outside. She saw him pulling out his notes when she spoke up and asked David if Henry could perhaps have dinner with them. She managed to ask nonchalantly, simply a scheduling glitch.

“Any particular reason,” David asked, barely hiding his smile.

“I’m going out,” she answered vaguely, crossing her denim clad legs and pulling a stack of files into her lap. “Did you see Leroy’s file? I need to check about his court date.”

“Haven’t seen it. Anyone I know?” He was trying to watch her in the reflection of his computer screen, sneaking a few knowing looks at Killian who was flipping casually through his notebook.

“Oh you know,” she said, pausing to look at a document, “that guy from your party.” She didn’t want to lie to her dad, but she could tell he was not going to let up. It was one thing to have her father believe it was Walsh but another to flat out tell him that.

Killian seemed to understand, interrupting the awkwardness with a cheeky smile. “Since Emma appears to be on a deadline and you’ll be entertaining the lad this evening, it sounds like we need to get through these questions to prepare your wife’s talking points. Let’s start with the most obvious. You have a role that is second in command here at the station and in the community. How does that work with you effectively reporting to your own daughter?”

Emma let out a little sigh and as her father droned on about how proud he was of her, she shot Killian a grateful look. Her father seemed to take pride in both his work and how well she did her job, showing him pictures of celebrations after tough cases were solved and the commendations she had gotten from the governor. Most grown children worry that they aren’t successful enough or are somehow a disappointment to their parents. Emma didn’t have that worry when David Nolan talked about her.

He was still talking about how well Emma had worked with Regina who was stepping down to concentrate on her new life when Emma slipped out to change. Neither he nor Killian seemed to notice that she almost spoke up twice to tell Killian that maybe tonight wasn’t the best timing. Then she reminded herself of Ruby’s advice. He was a nice and more than good looking man. He didn’t even live here. So what if she went out with him. It was just fun.

She repeated that to herself as she went to her car to head home and change. That is until the realization hit that she didn’t really have anything to wear. A trip to one clothing store in town would rouse suspicion and the tailor was a friend of her mother’s. There was only one place to go.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

“No leather, no spiked heels, no red, no plunging necklines, and I would preferably like to sit down without flashing everyone in town,” Emma said as Ruby dove into the bowels of her closet up above Granny’s. The woman had squealed, hugged Emma, and asked if certain parts had been shaved or waxed. Emma assured her that was not an issue and that she just needed something that didn’t have the capacity for her shoulder or hip holster. Ruby had of course said she had just the thing.

With no sign of her wardrobe addition, Emma looked at her phone and two unread texts.

Killian: Your father is in search of your old scouting badges. I feel like we should have code words. Perhaps not. Meet me at the docks at 7?

She answered quickly, not wanting Ruby to interfere with the response that would probably be inappropriate. A quick see you then and an internally debated smiley emoji would have to suffice. The next message was from her mother.

Mom: David says you have a date. Very exciting. When you come by to pick Henry up, I want to hear all about it. I’ll wait up.

Her mother was going to be an issue. She loved the eternal optimist that was her mother, a woman who had more than her fair share of darkness, including losing two parents early in life, but rose above it to see the good in people. Wasn’t that what Emma was doing. She was seeing the good in Killian despite the voices inside that said this was a bad idea. Well, she could rationalize it that way. Her mother truly wanted a happily ever after for her daughter, something even  Emma couldn’t disagree with in scheme of things. The fact that her mother even believed in such things was pretty amazing.

Ruby emerged with a black dress that looked more like a set of random strips all stitched together. Beneath it was a red dress that flared out and looked more appropriate for dancing. And beneath that was a soft mauve frock with a full skirt and wrapped bodice. She knew that was the one she wanted to wear, but knowing Ruby she had to at least try the others. Half an hour later she was wearing the lighter colored dress, matching nude heels, and her hair was what her friend called casually curled.

She was standing with her arms crossed for warmth at the docks at 7:01 when Killian emerged from one of the sailboats with a single red rose in his hands. “Apparently,” he said, steadily walking the gang plank despite the swell of the waves that had her not quite sure if she was standing still or not, “it is nearly impossible to procure just a rose this time of year. You almost ended up with a pot of poinsettias.”

“It’s beautiful,” she remarked. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

He assured her that it was no trouble and that she was beautiful herself. Below deck he had a small table set with real dishes and flatware, a bottle of wine and containers of pastas and sauces from the Italian restaurant she had mentioned. The only thing, he mused, was that he could not do the candles since such items were not really safe on a boat.

“Confession time,” he said, clinking his glass with hers. “I borrowed the boat. I don’t have one here in Storybrooke.”

“I knew that,” she admitted. “It’s my uncle Leroy’s boat.”

“Short man, scruffy looking, kind of grumpy?”

“Always grumpy, yes. It’s nice of you though. Not too many prying eyes.”

He took a sip and pondered that for a moment. “I take it that you would prefer to keep things clandestine just in case. I am also guessing that you gave the information to your friend Ruby just in case I turn out to be a murderer.”

“I can take care of myself.” She squared her shoulders off.

“Aye, I believe you can, love.”

The rest of the meal passed with pleasant conversation and only a few awkward pauses that were usually filled before it got to be too much. Killian had even brought along a set of speakers to stream music allowing them to dance. It was a tough that even Emma thought was sweet as his arms were around her in a way that she admitted fit. She wasn’t sure how much life was left in his phone or when the clouds that had been building all day would open up with snow, but time seemed to stand still as they swayed. Her eyes closed and her head resting against his right shoulder. He lifted their entwined hands and softly kissed hers. She was glad her eyes were closed and her head nestled against his chest.

She could feel his breathing change and his hold feeling tense. Her name came out as a whisper from him. She lifted her head and found his eyes searching hers. “Emma? I would very much like to kiss you.”

“I’m not sure you can handle that,” she teased in just as soft of a voice. Yet she closed the space between them and let him close the rest. Their lips touching softly at first and then with more passion. Her hands gripped at his shirt, pulling him toward her and his hand hovered at her hair before threading through it with a sort of awe she had never experienced.

They might have stayed like that for a while had the siren of her dad’s cruiser not shattered the cold and quiet night. Maybe they should have stayed below deck, ignored her father’s presence on the docks. However, that plan faded as his footsteps grew closer and she knew, just knew that someone had spotted them on Leroy’s boat and reported it. Resigned to the fate that her father was about to find out who her date was with and probably have an opinion about it, she took a step back and turned to climb up into the cold. While he said nothing, Killian placed his own jacket, a worn leather one, over her shoulders. It was a gentlemanly gesture and one that shouldn’t surprise her.

“Dad?” she asked, holding one hand over her eyes to shield it from the giant flakes falling silently from the sky. “Did something…”

Her father looked startled and even a little embarrassed to see her there. His breathing was normalizing when Killian emerged too, which sent his eyes wide and his gasp of surprise sharpening. “I didn’t realize…”

“Everything okay, mate?” Killian asked. His dark colored shirt and black vest offered little warmth against the plummeting temperatures. However, he did not indicate it by shivering or otherwise complaining.

“Sure…I mean I was just answering a call about someone attempting to break in cars when I saw Emma’s bug. Someone said they thought they saw the suspect run this way and…”

Emma gave her father a nod, taking a deep breath to switch back into her role as sheriff. “Any description?”

Her father’s eyes drifted to where Killian’s hand was covering hers and giving it a slight squeeze of reassurance. They narrowed and his voice faltered as he answered, “light colored hair, red sweatshirt, about 5’9”, thin.”

“Sounds like a juvenile,” Emma assessed. “I’m assuming we don’t have any camera visuals. Last time we investigated over here the cameras were malfunctioning and I haven’t noticed…”

“Emma,” her father said, his boots shuffling a little on the worn planks of the dock that were beginning to be covered in snow. “You don’t have to…I mean…You’re on a date…I guess you are.”

“Well, yeah,” she said, glancing at Killian who seemed to be enjoying the moment. Suddenly she felt the urge to clear up the misconceptions she had caused. “I didn’t mean to…” She cleared her throat. “I know you probably thought I meant I was seeing that Walsh guy.”

“Your mother’s buying an entertainment center from him,” David answered with confusion. “It’s not my business who…but where is Walsh?” He did manage to lower the flashlight and seem less ominous there on the docks, but still had his hand on his hip and was rocking backwards as he waited for explanations.

“I’m not really sure. I haven’t exactly seen him since the party.” Emma glanced at Killian who was standing closer to her than she realized. That wasn’t exactly unpleasant as a prospect. “Killian and I…”

“You and Killian,” he father parroted with the confusion that it hadn’t dawned on him. “You and Killian what?”

Killian gave her hand another squeeze and took a step forward as though offering himself as tribute. “Aye, mate. I do fancy your daughter and she and I have been spending time together.”

Blinking back at them, David appeared to running through the occasions he had seen them together and attempting to digest this information. “So the conversation about intentions toward Emma should be delivered to you and not Walsh?” It was too dark to know for sure, but Emma thought he looked a little disappointed.

She reminded him that there was a potential thief on the loose and he assured her he had it under control and to go back to her date. Killian just sort of shrugged and offered his analysis that it wasn’t that much of a secret after all. They talked a bit longer, took a slow walk toward her car, and both hopped in with him saying he would walk to Granny’s after she was safely at her parents with her son.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said, speeding up the wipers against the snow. “I can drop you off. No need for you to freeze.”

He looked toward her in the dark car and gave her a soft smile. “Your father is bound to have told your mother about our date, love. I know you had hoped to keep it secret. I only wanted to offer my services should you want them to fend off her disappointment and concern.” He jumped when she placed her hand over his prosthetic.

“I didn’t mean for it to be a secret. I guess I just don’t want to disappoint them with another failed attempt at matchmaking. My mother has to be ready to give up by now.”

“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “she might have to give up anyway. If we were to date, surely she would not attempt to replace me each year.” Her hand jerked away fast, something he noticed. “I hoped you might want…”

She sighed, turning her car off the coastal road to the one that led toward town. “Killian, I am the one who originally asked you out. Even if that was a misunderstanding. I had fun. I enjoy spending time with you. But…”

“But?”

“But we live in two different cities. The special election is going to be over next month. What kind of relationship can we have when you’ll be off on your next job and I’ll still be here? I’m not 18 and free to wander around after you. I have a job, parents, a son, and responsibilities.”

“We could…”

“Killian, I like you. I like spending time with you, but I’m not interested in starting a go no where or long distance relationship. I want more than a pen pal. Think about it. You do too.” The driveway of the farmhouse was coming into sight and then disappeared as she passed it. “I’ll take you back to Granny’s. No sense in talking to my mother about this. We’ll just say it was a one time thing.”

“As you wish.” His voice was quiet, deep, and almost wistful.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

As the holidays grew nearer, Emma’s parents and Killian went into campaign overdrive. There were photoshoots of the whole family on the farm. Her mother even managed to sneak in a few candid shots of Emma and Killian. Speaking of Mary Margaret, she was only mildly disappointed at Emma’s secret that she was not seeing Walsh. That was quickly erased as she said she had considered setting her daughter up with Killian, but was quickly dissuaded when her internal voice said her daughter would object. Nobody corrected her on it.

For his part, Killian worked hard and would try to sneak in time with Emma. They shared a few lunches, walked around the farm discussing a few strategies, and shopped together for a present for her parents. He sat with them on Christmas Eve when Emma performed with the choir for mass, looking just as in awe and proud as her parents did. He even joined them for the evening meal on Christmas, leaving behind a gift for Emma rather than making a big deal of her opening it in front of everyone.

As the wreathes were removed and the snow seemed not as white, the election day finally drew close and Killian was even more of a fixture. He was constantly showing up with a new tactic and shoving his client in front of cameras to announce a proposed initiative. Everything from illiteracy to hunger would be addressed by Mary Margaret Nolan for mayor. When election day arrived, more than 60% of the voters chose her and he beamed proudly from the sidelines. Most people noticed the hug shared between Emma and Killian, but it seemed to be just part of the celebration. It went so long into the night that nobody really saw the two of them saying goodbye the next morning.

“I wish it was different,” she admitted, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Perhaps someday, love. After all, nothing stays the same.”

She watched as the Uber driver loaded his bags and Killian reluctantly slid into the backseat. Their eyes were locked and the unsaid words hung in the air. She wasn’t sure she even breathed again until she was pulling up in front of her parents’ house. Her father was flipping pancakes, but her mother was at the doorway even as she dragged up the steps of the front porch.

“I like him,” her mother said. “He’s a good man.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed, accepting the hug and hurrying in before the next gust of wind. “I just…I don’t want this every time we see each other. I don’t want to miss him and have the constant feel like a clock is counting down the hours.”

“I know, Emma. And that is very practical, but if you…”

Emma didn’t wait for her mom to finish the statement before greeting her father and asking about setting the table. It wouldn’t be the last time that her mother brought him up. She would over the next few months, mentioning seeing him at some event or another. Emma never asked, but her mother would always update her on his well being. It wasn’t that Emma didn’t know. He still called. He texted. When he was in the area he would invite her to dinner or to an event. She occasionally went but always told herself it was just casual. He never tried to kiss her again and she never sat herself too close to him, despite Ruby’s advice to do so.

A book he had mentioned to her once said of the protagonist and her lover turned best friend, “they would continue to call and write until eventually they were just acquaintances and no longer a real part of each other’s lives.” That’s what Emma resigned herself to when he didn’t answer her text or voicemail inviting him to her parents’ annual party. He’d been pretty scarce for the past few weeks. Their conversations short and usually interrupted by something or someone. She once even heard a female voice in the background and wondered if he was seeing someone. That idea hurt more than she wanted to admit.

She wore red to her parents’ party, her hair hanging loose and the smile on her face tense and unyielding. She was sipping on champagne and watching as Regina and Robin twirled around the room still in bliss nearly a year after their wedding. Walsh was there too, dancing with Zelena and inking a new design deal with Marco. Neal had brought Tink as his date, which made Emma roll her eyes. And her parents were at their prime greeting and hugging all of those in attendance.

“Emma,” her mother called out when a few more guests were greeted. “Come here. I want you to say hello to someone.”

Ruby gave her a sympathetic look as Emma begrudgingly dragged her feet over to where her parents were standing. And there he stood, Killian in a freshly pressed suit with a wide smile on his face as she approached. Her mother was giddy as she mockingly introduced them. “Emma, you remember my old campaign manager, Killian, right? Well, he was in town getting settled because his new job at the governor’s office starts next month. I was thinking that he might be just the kind of guy you’d like to get to know.”

[youarerageandserenity]

Borderlands Foam Wig Tutorial (Tyreen)

I was chatting with the lovely @void-noises-exe​ and it eventually circled around to offering to make a wig tutorial because you don’t see too terribly many, just thought I’d throw mine out ( especially because It was next to impossible to find good references of a foam version of Ty’s hair.) So this will be for foam wigs in general but Tyreen’s hair specifically (with a few pics of my Fiona wig from tales as well because they better accentuate my points) I didn’t plan on making this so I am missing a few pictures that might be helpful but here we go. This will not be short.

Supplies: 

-Craft foam (ideally, in small and XL sheets, but you can make do with whatever size you have available) 

- Spray paint as close to the BASE color of the wig you need (for Ty I used white, for Fiona a medium brown) ideally in a matte. 

- a FUCKLOAD of paints (i use cheap acrylics from the craft store ) in Black, and then several shades of the colors in the hair. (For Fiona i used i think four browns? Tyreens shaved sides have three browns, and the top had an additional yellow-brown i mixed) try to vary them in darkness levels to add depth.

- multiple paint brushes. I like to use around four or five of varying sizes and hardness levels.

- plenty Hot glue, and a hot glue gun (note: you COULD use other typres of adhesive, I like hot glue because its got great hold on foam, it sets FAST and worst case scenario I can take a hair dryer to it and melt it again if I need something to be undone.)

- scissors

- duct tape

-plastic wrap

-sharpie

-wig head

-Plenty of reference images

(optional supplies include a rotary cutter and or exacto-knife [trust me, itll make your life so much easier] ,  and patience. )

SO to start

1) Put your hair in a wig cap or however you plan on wearing it under your wig. Wrap your whole hair bit of your head in plastic wrap. Make sure you get over your ears and the baby hairs on your neck if you want to keep them. 

2) Wrap all the plastic covered bits in duct tape. This is easier for a friend to do on you, but not impossible to do alone, just make sure to get it all. It should be snug. Make sure you get as far down the back of your neck and down your sideburn area as you can. (Most characters have a bit of fringe hanging down in the back so its not the BIGGEST concern for them, but Ty’s got nada so you’re gonna want some good coverage for your hair line.) 

3) Take your sharpie and draw an outline of where your ear is, and along the hairline you’d like your wig to have. For short haired characters you dont want to cut too far behind the ear or your hair will peek out, so I like to underestimate how big my ear is and adjust as needed later. Dont make your wig hairline too high either, particularly if you’re making a wig for a character who has no fringe in the front. 

4) Take that bad boy off and cut along your outlines. Try it on again, adjust lines as needed. rinse and repeat. 

5) once you reach a semi-accurate mold of your head, you’re gonna wanna take it off and cut AT LEAST 4 (front, back, and both sides (I like to do 8, it will lay flatter) sections,coming to a point at the crown of your head. It should come out looking something like this. NOTE : they’re all still connected in the middle. If you’re doing 8, cut each of these 4 in half. )

6) Lay out your foam beneath this. If you dont have a piece of foam big enough to trace this bad boy onto, what I do is literally just break out the hot glue gun a bit early, glue a couple pieces together along the edges, until i get a nice big connected surface. Trace this guy on there as accurately as you can, cut it out, and then glue all your sides together. Now you should have a foam version of your duct tape hat. 

(Dont worry if the sides wont stay down, if you’re doing a character like Ty where thats an issue, we’ll get to that part later. ) 

7) (Optional but VERY helpful) Grab your wig head, and your duct tape head. Tape the duct tape back together and put something in it to make it hold shape, I use poly-fil. Tape the head-form to the wig head, and put your little foam cap on top of that. 

8)  Time to get creative. You’re gonna want to start from the bottom layers first. For Tyreen that’s the long fringe and her undercut. The strategy I decided on was to take a few large rectangular strips of foam, and lay them out everywhere I wanted the undercut to be and cut along the edges to match the hairline. I don’t have a picture of this exact point in the process but I have one from the beginning of the next step. Really the only thing to note at this point is obviously, your head is round and rectangles are not, for the curves where it sticks up along the edges, cut down where it sticks up in a little triangle and hot glue the ends together (you can sort of see this at the top left in the picture below). Dont worry about seams at this point, we’ll hide them later. 

9) This was not the case for Fiona who has very flat hair ( especially because of her hat) but Tyreen has a lot of volume especially towards the front of her head. For hair pieces that need volume, such as the ones that are glued down here, cut two of the exact same foam piece (i like to do them in little waves like the side, but also just a little arch is good for volume without flips such as the front piece) and glue the matching edges together. Make sure the hair triangle is facing the way youd like it to! Then Flatten out the top as much as you can, the bottom will keep the volume and the top ill be able to be covered by “2D” hair pieces. 

(NOTE: Honestly, it’s REALLY difficult to end up with an exact copy of cannon, and I ALLLLWAYS get carried away with the spikes. In the end, go by your reference images, but also follow your heart. Cosplay is half about having fun creating. )

10) Once youve started gluing, make sure to keep in mind where your part is (if you have one). For Fiona i didn’t trust myself so I glued in the hair at the part BEFORE anything, and left them ready to be glued down while I worked my way up to them. 

NOTE: All the hair at the parts of BOTH wigs is a single piece of foam.You want a nice wide base whenever possible to cover up the seams of all of the other edges of the hair. For your part, Carefully glue along the very end of your strip of foam and stick it down. It will be the last piece to be glueddown on top of everything else to make it look nice and clean. 

11) Slowly start working your way around the head, gluing down first anything that will need to be covered (3D pieces and bottom pieces) before getting towards the top where youll need to be more strategic about what is going down and what can cover your edges. I’d definitely recommend mixing 2D and 3D pieces if that’s something you want to experiment with, otherwise, such as in the pic below, it is possible to get volume from a 2D piece, simply by gluing it in a way where it wont lie flat against the head. 

12) in the picture above you can also catch a glimpse of Ty’s cow lick. Those are done exactly the same as our 3D pieces from before, only you trace the edges of the open end, and should end up with a triangular third side to be glued in, then just glue along the edges just like the hair part. 

13) Dont feel you have to overdo how many pieces the hair has, remember you may also paint in pieces and designs when it comes to the line-art! 

14) Once you’ve added everything from the bottom that you’d like to, go ahead and glue down your hair-part. 

15) So, obviously, I wasn’t a big fan of Tyreen’s undercut just being flat foam across half my head. So I took an exacto to it for what felt like years. REALLY over-do it on the edges, it’ll get rid of that harsh foam line and give it a little more of a natural blend. Also pay special attention to all of your seams in the foam. The more distressing there is there, the less youll be able to spot lines later. 

16) So once you have the overall structure of your wig and you’re thinking you might be happy with this, its spray paint time. (I’d recommend disposable gloves for this, you’re gonna need to maneuver it every which way to get the pain in every cranny and that paint does NOT like to come off easy.)  Theres really not much advice I can offer on it, just be patient, and do a couple layers, spray it from every angle and let it dry completely before moving on to the next step unless youre as impatient as I am and dont mind ruining a few paintbrushes. 

17) So, like the Fiona pic a few back or this one here, you should have a fairly flat evenly painted foam sculpture. Now is around the time you might start seeing all the inaccuracies in what you’ve made. You gotta push past that it’ll look great I promise. Time to get really creative. 

18) for Ty I started by painting the buzzed bits in a base brown, and started in on the line art and her roots while i waited for it to dry before going in with two more colors of brown for depth. 

19) For her roots I ended up using three colors. Black at the very bottom (which blends into the line art) a dark brown that matches more or less the buzz, and then after the fact, a custom yellowed-brown to blend better into the white and give us a little more texture. For this and the rest of the cel-shading in the hair, dab your brush before painting and try to mostly stick to light strokes in one direction (OR: if you have one, a particularly hard bristled paint brush does wonders for this) you don’t want the ends of your strokes to be too defined. 

20) Outline the edges of the hair and all prominent pieces, particularly the hot-glue seams, itll make them less noticable. (dont forget the little animation squiggles for Ty’s sides) and beyond that-- honestly, black out to your hearts content. These pics are from when I thought I’d finished. I really felt I’d over detailed. The next day I looked at a picture and realized there is always WAY more texture and outlining than I feel like I see. Honestly, you cant really over-do it, especially with fine solid black lines. 

21) The next day I came back at it with the yellowed-brown and LOTS more solid black lines. (Currently in the process of taming down where I got too excessive with the spikes on the side) 

22) Once it’s all dried, time to try on. Here’s where we address if you have a short haired character, and the edges of your wig just wont stay down -- invest in a little theatrical grade spirit gum. It’s not too terribly expensive, and unfortunately, I tried the cheaper halloween makeup kind, and it just wont hold how you need it too (and please for my sake, also make sure you get spirit gum remover) I took some hair gel (you could also use elmers glue) just to glue up as much of my hair as I could on the sides and the back of my neck to keep them from the spirit gum, and dabbed it along all of the prominent edges of the wig (namely, side and back) wait for it to get a little tacky and stick that MF-er down good. 

Aaaaand Voila??? 

Let me know if I missed any steps? Its fairly simple, once you get going -- just time consuming. 

[real-jaune-isms]

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 12 Review/Remix: Creation

For only having a couple major set pieces, this was one of the most plot dense chapters we’ve ever seen from this show. Some of those were a lot time coming and satisfying as hell, and some came right out of nowhere to massive speculation and theorizing to follow. But goddamn if I didn’t love every minute of it, so let’s mosey on through to see just why that is.

We open, as many of these chapters have been want to do, with shots of the Grimm causing chaos and destruction, in this case Teryx attacking airships. JNR fly by in a ship of their own, and looking rather concerned as they approach Atlas Academy. Why the shot was framed quite like this I’m not totally sure, because it looks like they’re approaching the city itself from quite far away when really they should have been approaching from the outskirts and flying over the city itself, considering where the Schnee estate is located. Ironwood is waiting for Penny at the landing site at the entrance to the Academy, just as he and Ruby had agreed on, and he’s got a new toy. Both pistols of Due Process have been slotted into the back sides of a larger firearm, a veritable hand cannon that needs both grips just to keep steadily aimed. I think it’s safe to call this the Gun-gun we had been joking would be coming eventually since the early Volumes. The Ace Ops are backing him up, and we see a few Atlesian Knight robots loading the bomb onto an airship so he can nuke Mantle at a moment’s notice just as he warned. The citizens of Mantle are out of the mines and looking very apprehensive about the whole thing, and we are right there with them. Just as the bots have finished loading the bomb and are about to leave they start getting shot down. Ironwood warns the Ace Ops to be ready for any altered state Penny might be in and any trouble her friends might try to cause. Harriet is all to ready to follow through on the general’s terms and put down any brat who tries to interfere, and this whole thing seems to finally give Vine pause. He’s not stopping now, how can he, but he’s reflecting on the path to get here and only now has some amount of remorse about it. Elm winces at the mention of that too, while my MCU fan mind had to stop and chuckle at a pale bald man with energy powers musing on philosophy and ethics so close after the end of WandaVision. Not intentional, obviously, but a great coincidence. Ironwood gets a ping that there are intruders in the hangar, and they all surmise that’s Robyn and Qrow trying to interfere with the bombing. Harriet is ready as hell for a chance to beat them bloody after all this time STILL believing they’re Clover’s killers, but Elm makes a good point that they can’t just leave to do that because Ironwood will need backup here. Lucky for all of them, Winter is here to provide the general just that, so the other three are free to deal with their fugitive problem. With a quiet moment between them, Winter tries to see if Ironwood can be talked down one last time. He doesn’t want to hear it, and she admits she knows it would be impossible to try.

Penny soars in and lands in front of them, surrendering herself to a pair of cuffs and surprising Ironwood a bit in actually coming alone. She says she’s obeying his order because above all she wants to stop further death and she must open the Vault. The virus coming back a little to compel her to this end, or just frequently repeated phrase for the sake of simplicity? Unclear. Ironwood finally lowers the gun-gun he was pointing at her and puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder to tell her she’s done the right thing. In a cadence very much not her own, she agrees she has, and all illusions are dropped. It Was Emerald All Along!~ And JNR as well as Oscar are standing a few yards behind her along with the airship she must have been masking the approach of with the sound of “Penny” flying in. As shocked realization dawns on his face, James is kicked in the chin by a backflipping Emerald. His gun flies out of his grasp and she catches it with a grin before disappearing. Damn she really has been getting good with her Semblance! Down in the hangar, the Ace Ops arrive to see the jailbirds slicing and blasting a ton of robot soldiers. Just as they’re about to join the fray Marrow is heard giving a command and his former teammates are left frozen under the power of a Semblance they never seemed to give its due diligence. The assembled Huntsmen and Huntresses start attacking Ironwood and he counters the first few attacks rather well. I’m sure he must be pretty damn shocked to see Oscar still alive after shooting him into a pit, and for that matter probably Jaune and Ren too with what Harriet told him about their mission into Monstra. That and how little sleep he’s probably gotten recently make it very likely willpower and his Semblance are the only things keeping him going at this point, so who are we to be shocked if he starts losing to their superior numbers? And start losing he does, because Winter is on their side and helps Nora bash him upside the head. Winter and Oscar charge at James on the back of a summoned Manticore, but he grabs it by the horns and stops it dead in its tracks. So they leap off and Winter hits him in the back with some ice while he’s busy destroying the summon. With another glyph she springboards Oscar back at James and he gives him the old rapidfire cane jab. It knocks his Aura pretty low by the looks of the flickers, but he still recovers and stops Oscar on the next swing. Before he can punch the poor boy any more than Hazel already has in the last 12 hours, Winter does the most anime move these series has yet to offer us and darts past her old boss to slice him at lightning fast speed. It’s a badass sight that I cannot describe with enough words so please just watch for yourself. With that, Ironwood’s Aura is broken and he passes out then and there. Qrow and Robyn apologize for freezing the Ace Ops like this, but these times call for hard choices. Emerald reappears to get uncuffed and Winter tells the five of them to move on to Phase 2.

We flash back to the end of the last episode where Ruby decides taking Penny to the Vault might be a risk worth taking, and we see Jaune and Ozcar immediately pick up on what she’s thinking. Why not try and use the Staff of Creation and hope it can work a twofold miracle of saving Penny and all the people of these two cities? Just then Weiss gets a text from Winter, and the gears start turning in our minds how this whole plan came together. We see Winter shoving Marrow into an elevator and looking very grumpy about the whole experience. He correctly guesses she’s not arresting him, but damn if he doesn’t get why she had to punch him to get him outta here. She rightfully tells him it was to make it look believable and she just saved his life thank you very much. He notices she’s texting someone and asks whom, and she says getting in touch with Weiss for some help is something she should have done a long time ago. Just then the elevator doors open and we get the payoff to who Robyn and Qrow were so surprised to see last episode: These two. Winter quickly sees this as a chance for even more help, and I think it is the happiest she’s ever been to see Qrow. Shifting back to Schnee manor, Weiss is going over the risks of this plan of theirs to the other 10 teens. Oscar pipes up with another danger, Atlas falling as soon as the Staff is used for anything new. The cover story about Gravity Dust keeping the kingdom afloat was only half wrong, there really is a large amount at the base of the landmass that will slow the descent a bit, but it will still be a cataclysmic landing. Jaune suggests using the Staff to get everyone in the danger areas to somewhere safe, possibly even another Kingdom, but Oscar says it doesn’t just work that easily. Especially not with HIM involved. The Staff has a sentient presence you have to deal with to make anything happen, but he’s a real card this one. He gives you what you ask for and only what you ask for, so you have to be specific and provide details or even blueprints for how to make what you’re asking for. Lucky for them Whitley has access to the layouts of Atlas and Mantle due to preparing for their earlier evacuation plan, so they’re off to a very good start. Oz still worries about Ironwood and the bomb at this point, but Weiss assures him they have a good plan for that. And we just saw what that was and how well it worked.

So now we get to see what Team RWBY is doing while ORNJ is handling Ironwood and whatever else Winter is having them do, flying an airship up to the hole Oscar left in the bottom of the Vault and having Ruby use her new Semblance skill to carry the rest of her team and Penny up through that and into the Vault itself. Klein and the other Schnees are also aboard the airship cuz someone needed to fly it and they weren’t gonna stick around in the mansion after the Kingdom starts falling. Ruby can basically fly now, no big deal it’s totally fine this doesn’t make her OP as hell, WHAT???? Okay I’m done. They get to the Vault door and with a shoulder to lean on and a few supportive words Penny opens it no problem. In the split second before Penny starts self-terminating now that this objective is completed, RWBY zooms into the grassy meadow inside this cold winter Kingdom’s vault on another Rose Express and Ruby grabs the Staff. Time stops as we see Winter escorting James to a cell in the brig right next to her other manipulative father figure Jacques, OJNRE are in front of some sort of computer monitor, and various other shots of what people are up to at this second are shown. In a cloud of blue mist emerges a man every bit as big blue and naked as Jinn was, but while she was thicc he is jacked. I don’t know how to describe his light blue hair but it’s got a ponytail so that’s fun. He seems charismatic af with a voice many assumed was Matt Mercer but is not, and seems he’s still a little steamed over how boring a request making Atlas float was. Ruby gets his attention and we learn his name is Ambrosius. When faced with a request to stop Penny from dying, Ambros informs them a limitation of his powers is resurrecting the dead. So everyone theorizing the Staff could bring back Pyrrha, or Clover, or any other beloved character were disappointed to be proven wrong. But bringing back the dead isn’t what Ruby is after, and once Ambrosius sees for himself just how atypical of a girl Penny is he understands their intention clearly. He lets them know of his rules, he is essentially a monkey’s paw and what you get may be exactly what you asked for but not what you hoped to get. They knew about this technicality problem too, so they brought Penny’s blueprints and ask him word for word to “Make a new version of her using her exact same robotic parts”. The robot parts are what have the virus, and once they use the Staff to make something new that infected robot Penny will cease to exist. But if he only removes the robot parts that will leave behind the life and soul that truly makes her Penny. It’s also not within his power to directly destroy, apparently, but it wouldn’t be killing her because it’s leaving her existing with just her soul. Yang flexes her prosthetic arm to illustrate their point that the mechanical parts are just extra. Ambrosius is enthusiastic to give this a try, but he has no idea what the finished product would be, so Ruby encourages him to get a little creative with it. He’s eager to give it a try but does warn them he can’t guarantee what the results will be, but they insist they have no other options and he does a sort of dance in the air like a full body orchestra conduction. Penny starts floating in swirls of blue mist, and in a flash of white light one becomes two. With his job done, Ambros fades away with a wink.

All of Atlas starts shaking, and ORNJE take that as their cue to start their next task: broadcasting to all of Atlas and Mantle a warning that Atlas is falling. Jaune is the one to deliver the message after some troubles figuring out how to get it working, but before he can offer any reassurance that a plan is in motion to save the masses... the broadcast is cut short along with all communications in the Kingdom. My money is on Watts being responsible, but maybe it was Atlas command on a hunch of what Ironwood would want them to do. James himself didn’t tell them to cut it off, cuz he’s still unconscious in a jail cell. Speaking of those cells, Jacques demands answers on what the hell is going on from his eldest daughter. She asserts that they will be getting everyone to safety and leaving the falling rubble to Salem for all the good it’ll do her, but Jacques is still worried he won’t be among those saved. Winter hesitates but tells him that yes he will be evacuated too. He thanks her profusely but she refuses to accept that credit. If he wants to be grateful he has to thank Weiss for deciding to free him, and that news shuts him up right quick. Weiss has been his least favorite child, yet she’s still the one to show him mercy and kindness because that’s the sort of woman she’s always been and he tried to stamp that humanity out of her. What an ass he must feel like.

Back down in the Vault, two Penny’s stand before RWBY. One looks like we’ve always known her, but starts moving and jerking around robotically with red eyes and sparks flying out of it as it collapses to the ground. The other has bare human legs, no gloves, no power sign on her neck ribbon, a natural fabric bow in her hair, and aside from that is every bit the sweet and good girl we’ve come to know. Some people say this was a mistake or a bad move to take away what made her such a unique character but... they really didn’t. She was able to grow outside of the limitations of the body she came into existence with and now lives purely as who she has always felt herself being inside. And that’s pretty cool. She’s naturally very disturbed to see another version of herself collapsing and dying right in front of her, but feels a lot better getting to hug Ruby. Penny never knew a hug could make you feel this warm inside, and gives hugs to the rest of Team RWBY. It’s very very cute and we’re all glad to see she’s doing so well now. 

With this taken care of it’s time to summon Ambrosius for the evacuation creation. He seems to have no concept of time because he doesn’t realize how little time has passed and is surprised to see they’re the ones who summoned him again. And considering how thorough they were with the last request he’s probably bummed he won’t get to pull a fast one on with a request this time either. They try and ask him to make doorways all over Atlas and Mantle that will all become a single doorway in Vacuo, but he requires too much complex metaphysics and space time bending to make that happen so they alter course. Make a central location all the doorways in Atlas and Mantle will open into, and then have a single door in that big new place that will open in Vacuo. He wants to know just what kind of central location they would have in mind, and Yang says he should make one that exists outside of Remnant’s reality just like the Vaults seem to. He commends them for being so smart about it, but acknowledges that could end up being foolishness instead. As a point of reference for the doorway system, or perhaps just for where in Atlas and Mantle they should be opening, Weiss shows him a series of blueprints for the layout of the Snowshoe shipping hub and how it connects to Atlas. Using that basis he makes dozens if not a hundred or two doorways all over the two cities. They’re big gold ovals with pale blue centers, and on the other side is a big empty black void with a series of narrow walkways without and sort of railings connecting all the portals to a single large one at the end of all the converging paths. Very dangerous if anyone ends up tripping or knocking anyone else over. People are very confused to see these things suddenly pop up, but we see Joanna hesitantly step through one and see just what the deal is. Realizing it’s their way out she seems to go back and tell the others. I gotta admit, the look of this large doorway in the midst of a barren rocky place like this gave me serious ending of Kingdom Hearts 1 vibes, and I half expected Mickey Mouse to be on the other side talking about the Door to Darkness. But that’s just me. Satisfied that the job is done, they thank Ambros who tells them they were indeed disappointingly thorough and they can go now. As they head out the broken robo Penny fades away to blue dust and real Penny is rather shaken to bear witness to that. Before he disappears into the Staff for who knows how long now, Ambrosius delivers one last warning about the world of doors and paths they just created. Do Not Fall. With that ominous warning ringing in their minds the five young women head into the doorway before them with the intent to go to Vacuo with everyone else and the hope in their hearts that they’re not forgetting anything important. We see Cinder wearing a hooded cloak in the midst of a crowd about to head into one of these portals, and it becomes very clear what important thing they may not have taken into account.

Time to wait 7 days to see what could possibly go wrong now!

[warren-lauren]

‘I do’ under the stars - Present Day!Brian May x Danish!reader

This was actually happening. You were actually going to marry the man you loved. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, still finding it hard to believe you were wearing your wedding dress.

"Y/N?" You heard Roger's voice after a short knock on the bedroom door.

"Go away, Roger," Sarina sighed as she got up from the chair she was sat in and opened the door a peak. "We're not read-"

"I know that, love, I just-" Roger let out a heavy sigh, "It's Brian,"

Your eyes widened as you heart tightened hearing those words. You spun around and marched barefoot over to the door, pulling it open. "What's wrong, Roger? Is he okay? Is it his-"

Roger shook his head, smiling as he looked you over. Beautiful. "No, love, he's okay... He just, he wanted to have a word."

You let out a relieved sigh, "I'll kill him," You smiled softly, "Where is he?"

Roger rolled his eyes. "That's the thing, I haven't a clue. He just said, tell Y/N/N I need to have a quick word, and then he buggered off." Roger huffed as he folded his arms across his chest, clearly stressing out.

You shook your head smiling, "Don't worry, Rog, I know where he is." You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Y/N, your shoes!" Sarina turned around to grab them for you but you had already left.

You weren't going far. You climbed the flight of stairs and crossed the landing until you came to a large wooden door and opened it. You began grinning to yourself as you looked up into the darkness at the top of another set of stairs.

"Brian? You know we're not meant to see each other." You smiled, slowly walking up.

You heard Brian chuckle as he approached the top of the staircase. "I'm a bit old to believe all that nonsense, don't you think." He held his hand out for you. "You look beautiful, my love." He pulled you closer to him, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

"What's wrong, Brian? Are you having second thoughts?"

He shook his head, and began guiding you over to the large telescope that was set up. "Of course not, love. I just wanted to show you something before we said 'I do'." He grinned.

You raised your eyebrow, "Brian, what could you possibly have to show me?"

Brian nodded to the telescope. "Just look,"

You let out a small scoff but looked anyway. "How many times have you had me look through this thing? I think I've seen--Oh my God!" You pulled back and looked up at Brian. "Is that a,"

"Comet?" You nodded, "It is. I remembered you saying, you'd never seen one so," He smiled as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Wait," You turned around in Brian's arms, "Bri, is this why you insisted we get married at this time?" You grinned up at him.

Roger had joked about Brian being a science geek when he suggested that the two of you got married under the stairs. Having your special day in the comfort of your home, away from prying eyes as you committed your love to one another.  You thought it was a rather romantic idea.

Brian's cheeks began to blush as he nodded, "Hmm, yes. I heard along the grape vine that, you'd be able to see the comet tonight so-"

You pressed your lips against his in a loving kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck as Brian held you close to his body, kissing you back with just as much love.

"Excuse me!" Roger called out from the top of the stairs, glaring at the two of you.

You looked over Brian's shoulder with bashful smile, trying to laugh as his red cheeks hid behind his beard. "Sorry, Rog," You smiled at him.

He held his hands up, "Whatever. It's not like you've got a ton of guests waiting or anything. I swear, if you ask me to be your best man again, I'm saying no, having me running around. I'm too old for this shit." Roger huffed as he turned around and made his way back down.

You hid your face in Brian's chest as the pair of you shared a laugh as Roger continued to moan as he walked away.

"We should probably get to our wedding." Brian whispered.

You nodded, lifting your head so you could look at Brian. "I can't wait to be, Mrs May." You smiled loving up at him.

Brian grinned, "C'mon, before Roger has a stroke or something." He chuckled taking your hand in his.

----------

-Flash back-5 years ago-

You let out a heavy sigh as you tapped your pen against the table. The black printed letters on the page were starting to jumble together, but you had to study. Why you thought getting a summer job as a personal assistant for a band was a good idea, you'll never know. But here you are at midnight, in the hotel restaurant trying to figure out how to stop cats from pooing in a plant pot.

"Ugh!" You groaned and dropped your head onto the table in front of you. You were glad there wasn't many people down in the restaurant at this time.

"I thought I'd find you down here," Brian spoke softly as he walked towards you putting a smile on your face. "What have we said about staying up past midnight?" He teased, sitting down opposite you.

You smiled, "Just because you're an OAP."

Brian chuckled, pulling your text book across to him. "Cheeky." He smiled before closing it. "Why are you our personal assistant if this, is what you want to do?" He said as he tapped your text book on Clinical Animal Behaviour.

"Needed a job," You shrugged with a cheeky grin, "When I go back to school, it's going to be all work, and this seemed like a once in a life time opportunity." You smiled at him.

Brian hummed, "Still makes no sense. It's not exactly the most idle place to study, on the road, fetching and carrying, and looking after us old codgers." You laughed at him, shaking your head as you began to put your things away. "Wouldn't you rather, go home to Denmark and see your parents?"

You let out a soft sigh, "As much as I miss them, Bri, I spent all my life with them. I want to take this time to, be me." You shrugged. "Does that sound selfish?"

Brian shook his head, reaching over to pat your hand. "Not at all, love. Some times you've got to think of yourself before others." He smiled, "Right, I think it's bed time, young lady."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Whatever you say, old man."

----------

-Present Day-

"I do," You smiled teary eyed up at Brian as the two of you held hands as you stared lovingly at one another, your friends and family watching as you shared your vows.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride." The vicar announced you man and wife, and in front of your loved ones, you shared your first kiss as husband and wife.

As Brian held you in his arms and kissed you with such passion and love, the memories the two of you had shared over the last five years span through your mind.

Even though there was an obvious age gap between the pair of you, I mean you were a lot closer to 30 than Brian was, it didn't seem to matter so much. There was times where it was apparent, like when Brian had found himself having some health issues. The heart attack really knocked you for ten, but in true Brian fashion he bounced back after some time to recover, more loving and caring than ever.

He was always willing to learn something new, and so the two of you had visited your parents in Denmark and you'd tried to teach him as much as you possibly could about your home.

At first your parents were more than shocked when you told them who you were dating. You had the whole 'he's too old', 'he's taking advantage of you', ‘you can't see a future with him', blah, blah, blah. But once they actually met him, after a lot of arm twisting that is, they saw the man you did. Not just a famous rock star who they thought was just having his way with you because you were a pretty young thing, but a man that saw you as a smart and bright woman who was capable of great things.

Of course your romance wasn't always so easy, what with the media sticking their nose in, and the fans having their own opinion. It was because of this that you and Brian took so long to admit how you felt about one another. There was a lot of longing looks, and lingering touches on both parts. It took Adam and his drunken big mouth to drop you in it for Brian to work up the courage to ask you out.

-Flash back-4 & half years ago-

As much as he hated being in a loud night club, barely understanding what was being played over the speakers, Brian happily sat in a big comfy chair along with Roger and Adam as you and Sarina danced with one another. Although he was doing it out of habit, he was watching you, a fond smile on his face as he watched you laugh and have the time of your life.

Roger rolled his eyes with a scoff, "He's like a bloody teenager." He chuckled pointing over to where Brian was, paying him nor Adam any attention. "Oy!" Roger threw a balled up napkin towards Brian, laughing when Brian jumped.

"Piss off!" Brian glared at him.

Roger rolled his eyes again, "Sorry, mate, have I distracted you from your perving?" He teased.

Brian blushed once again telling him to piss off. "I'm not perving."

Adam nodded laughing, "Don't worry, Bri, Y/N's just as bad."

Brian's brow creased and he turned in his seat so he was facing the younger man. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

"Are you serious, right now?" He huffed, "You really must be blind if you don't see the lady boner she gets whenever she's near you."

Brian shook his head as he looked to Roger. "Lady boner?" He asked looking confused.

Roger burst out laughing, almost dropping his drink on himself. "Oh, fuck." He quickly put his drink down still laughing. "Oh, God... He means, she's got the hots for you, Bri."

Brian's eyes widened. "Y/N?"

"Oh, yeah," Adam nodded, "She's even had a couple of saucy dreams about you, Bri."

Roger's head snapped to him."Has she?"

Adam "Oh, Dr. May, fuck me with your-" Adam stopped his terrible impression of you as you came to a stop in front of him, unimpressed to hear him exaggerate what you had told him. "Oh, hey, girl-"

"Don't." You glared at him, snatching your purse off the table. "I'm off." You huffed and turned on your heels.

Brian was quick to get up, calling Roger and Adam tossers before he followed after you. He caught you just before you left the club, holding your hand softly as he pleaded for you not to walk away from him. You told him you just wanted to leave for your hotel, and Brian was more than willing to escort you, to make sure you were safe.

'I wouldn't be much of a gentlemen if I let you go on your own, would I?'

----------

-Present Day-

"Look," Brian pointed up to the sky. The pair of you stood in each other's arms, slow dancing as the night wore on.

You smiled up at the sky as you watched the comet move across the black sky. You cuddled into Brian's warmth. "It's beautiful, Brian." You lifted your head to look at him. "Thank you."

Brian grinned down at you before slowly pressing his lips against yours, pulling a soft moan from you. "Jeg elsker dig, fru May." Brian whispered his love for you in Danish making you grin. He shook his head with a soft chuckle, "Doesn't sound as romantic with me butchering it."

You giggled shaking your head as you reached up and cupped his wrinkled face, his youth still there as he smiled down at you. "I still love you, Mr May." You whispered as you leaned up and pressed your lips against his.