#still the same obsessed fangirl I was like ten years ago

[killiansprincss]

Not me seeing Colin is doing the 2 22 ghost play and immediately calling my bestie and seeing if she wants to take a random trip to Dublin to go see him

[acklesforlife]

Happy Birthday Danneel Ackles!

It’s Danneel Ackles’ birthday, so we thought for our continuing celebration of Supernatural Spring Break week, this was a good time to both wish her a happy birthday and share the rather amusing story of one of our first times meeting her.

There have been a few memorable times since, including the party celebrating ‘Supernatural Day’ in Austin with Mayor Adler, which was just plain fun and an opportunity for some real conversation.

And I’ll be forever touched that Danneel wanted a copy of Family Don’t End With Blood (and how incredulous she was that Jensen actually had a chapter in it!) and that she has read our other books too.

The actual first time we met Danneel was a long time ago – at the after party following the premiere of indie movie Ten Inch Hero, which was at a club in LA back in, I think 2008. We all left the premiere and walked over to the club, invited by director David Mackay – the cast and the audience all together.

We had a lovely little chat with Danneel there about the film, met screenwriter Betsy Morris who’s still a friend today, and asked actor Matt Barr (now of Walker) to watch the rest room door while I in desperation used the men’s room because there was a huge line at the women’s. (He was lovely about it and it makes me laugh now every time I see him as Hoyt).

It was a momentous party, what can I say?  After that, my co-author Kathy and I interviewed David over a three hour brunch in Vancouver for the first book we were working on, and mentioned that we’d love to chat with Danneel  too. To be honest, we didn’t really think that would happen. But a few months later, while we were in LA for the Supernatural convention, we got a call from David.

I’ll let some excerpts from our second book, Fangasm! Supernatural Fangirls, take it from here…

… he let us know that Danneel Harris had actually agreed to an interview too. This prompted some hyperventilating and a rush of euphoria that left us grinning like fools. Jensen Ackles’s girlfriend was going to meet with us? Really? David had given Lynn’s cell phone number to Danneel so that she could call us tomorrow, the same day the boys came back to town. SWEET.

Given the pattern of the weekend so far—great things happening and then going horribly wrong—we should have known what was coming.

[On the Sunday of the convention, while everyone was in a fever pitch of excitement over Jared and Jensen being there] Lynn was obsessively checking her phone. “Noooo!!” she gasped. It was the plaintive moan of a beast in distress.

Kathy assumed that Lynn was passing a gallstone from the sound of it.

“No reception!” Lynn said, wide-eyed.

For Kathy, who hates phones (really, what doesn’t Kathy hate?) this didn’t seem like a big deal. The world really is too connected anyway. An hour out of cell phone reception seemed like a welcome respite, an opportunity just to enjoy the moment.

Lynn wasn’t as philosophical. “What if Danneel calls?”

Kathy honestly didn’t hold out much hope that this would actually happen—a yellow on the threat scale at most—so she wasn’t concerned.

Lynn was taking up her slack by flailing around, banging buttons on her phone as if somehow this would jolt it into action. “How can there be no cell phone reception in LA??”

Lynn had a point. We’re reasonably certain that there is cell phone reception in the Arctic Circle, but there was not a bar to be had in a hotel in LA. LA!! The town where everyone’s people are calling everyone else’s people, where iPhones are accessorized to coordinate with the day’s outfits, where a missed call can ruin a career. Jared and Jensen distracted Lynn for the duration of their time onstage, but as soon as it was over Lynn made a bee line for Jared’s girlfriend, Sandy (the woman sitting in front, wearing a hoodie so no one would recognize her—except Lynn apparently). Lynn wildly explained our dilemma to the stunned and probably scared actress. It was a good thing the Men With No Necks (MWNN) were only being paid to guard “the boys” or Lynn would have been face down on the carpet.

While Lynn was doing this, Kathy was pretending that she did not know Lynn.

Sandy was sympathetic, but didn’t know if she’d even see Danneel. Lynn thanked her for the sympathy and moved on to the next person who might be able to help. She attempted to enlist convention photographer Lizz, to no avail, and finally Creation owner Adam.

“I’ll try Lynn,” he said, sounding slightly exasperated. “But I’m kinda running an entire convention here.”

Thwarted again, Lynn pulled out all the stops. During her Jensen photo op, she stopped everything to explain the situation to Jensen himself.

“Hi, Jensen,” Lynn said, hoping that her voice wasn’t sounding too shaky. “We have an interview set up with Danneel today for the book we’re writing on fandom, and she’s supposed to call us, but I don’t have any reception on my phone, so I’m afraid she won’t be able to.”

The photo-op process screeched to a halt, and the room fell silent. Photo ops, you see, are not a place for conversation. They are highly valued by fans, who pay top dollar for the privilege of standing next to a celebrity, and they are relentlessly organized. The entire experience lasts about twenty seconds, and during that time you’re expected to say hello to the celebrity, smile, perhaps get an arm around your back or lean into said celebrity’s very firm bicep, and then move the hell out of the way and let the next person crowd in for the next picture. The photo ops allow no room for deviation. So when deviation happens, no one is very happy. The photographer wasn’t happy. The other fans weren’t happy. And the MWNN looked ready to move into swift and potentially lethal action.

Not that any of this stopped Lynn. “Can you put us in touch with her?” she continued, oblivious to the threatening stares all around her.

“Oh right, the interview,” Jensen said.

Lynn just nodded, though inside she was stuck on “OMG Jensen knows about our interview and our book, ohmygodohmygod.”

“Maybe she can email you,” Jensen continued. Then the conversation abruptly ended as Lynn was grabbed unceremoniously by the back of the neck and “escorted” from the photo-op room. Uh oh. She hadn’t experienced that feeling since being a two-year-old caught trying to get away with her baby brother’s coveted teddy bear. Lynn was most definitely in trouble—and even worse, she’d made no progress in getting in touch with Danneel, who didn’t even have our email address!

Lynn, ever the intrepid researcher, was not deterred. She thanked the Man with No Neck for his assistance and got right back in line for her next photo op, the “sandwich” photo (as in sandwiched between Jared and Jensen, which is vaguely dirty and thus very popular). As Lynn walked up, Jensen immediately tried to continue their conversation.

“So do you want to . . .” he began, while Jared looked confused. After all, the celebrities know the no talking rule as well as the fans.

Lynn held up a hand defensively. “Shh, I’m not talking to you. I totally got in trouble for it before,” she added, as the MWNN hovered threateningly.

Jensen laughed. “I got in trouble too,” he protested.

We doubt the MWNN were involved.

“Can Danneel get us her email?” Lynn managed as she was once again “encouraged” to leave the room as quickly as possible.

There was no time for an answer. Damn. Thwarted again. We were disappointed, but Lynn was relieved that she wasn’t escorted out of the entire con (the specter of the Flying Fangirl from Asylum still looms large at these events after all). We were still feeling like an interview with Danneel had been too good to be true anyway, so we tried to swallow our sadness and settled in to watch some of the other guests. Midway through the next panel, Lizz the photographer came out into the audience and passed us a note—from Danneel. It just said, “Send me an email, love danneel” and included her email address. Being a bit clueless about the popularity of smartphones in 2008, we figured this meant that she wanted us to get in touch with her later for an email interview. We were disappointed that we wouldn’t get to talk to her in person but incredibly excited that she’d given us her email address. We wandered back outside after the panel and tried not to be too miserable about the Danneel interview not happening that day. We were hanging out in the hallway chatting when photographer Lizz suddenly appeared and yanked us away in the middle of a sentence with an exasperated, “Come with me!” She led us down a small side hall.

We still weren’t entirely sure what was going on. Were we in trouble again? Had the MWNN decided to kick us out after all? Moments later, Danneel emerged from the side door, introducing herself with a smile. Somehow we managed to compose ourselves and smile back. Apparently Jensen had facilitated the interview after all! Danneel suggested that we all grab some coffee, so we headed upstairs to the hotel’s Starbucks, where Danneel insisted on treating.

Coffee in hand, we went back downstairs to start the interview. Danneel suggested that we go backstage to talk, and then came a weirdly symbolic moment. The very same Man with No Neck who had tossed Lynn unceremoniously out of the photo op for daring to speak to the talent now held back the curtain to the backstage area, solicitously helped Danneel and us step over the various wires and cables snaking across the floor, then closed the curtain behind us to seal our crossover. The irony wasn’t lost on us.

Kathy whipped out her trusty voice recorder just as she had done for every other interview we’ve conducted, turned it on, and . . . nothing. We were interviewing Jensen Ackles’s girlfriend and there was NOTHING. It wasn’t the batteries, which had been checked and rechecked. Kathy tried to maintain some semblance of professionalism. She would quietly figure out what was wrong and then she would just as quietly fix it. Deep breaths. Okay, the recorder was FULL. Not to worry. She excused herself, leaving a confused Lynn to entertain Danneel.

First the cell phone, now the voice recorder. Sunday turned out to be the day technology failed us. This, for Lynn, is an everyday occurrence. For Kathy not so much. She loves technology. She embraced the Internet years before it got pretty, she used a “portable” PC to write her doctoral dissertation (portability is of course a relative designation—relative to muscle mass and stamina), and she gets gleeful over the prospect of using every new toy her university has to offer. So yes, technology was her friend. Until it wasn’t.

While Kathy dashed upstairs to grab her laptop (wishing that she could grab a shot of tequila), Lynn attempted to keep up a conversation with Danneel without actually asking any of our carefully prepared interview questions. Without a recorder, there was no way she’d remember a damn thing that was said—so that left small talk as the only option. Luckily, Danneel and Lynn connected over their mutual love of writing, swapped college stories, and then Lynn (as always) managed to talk about her children. Danneel proved herself a great listener. Minutes went by—lots of them—and Lynn realized to her horror that Jensen and Jared were almost done with their autographs. After that, it was off to the airport—and we would lose our interviewee to her boyfriend as she left with Ackles. Where was Kathy???

Finally, shortly before Lynn had moved on to telling Danneel about her daughter’s first steps, Kathy returned and hurriedly tried to download everything onto the laptop while time quickly ran out. Come on!! All Kathy could focus on was how long it was taking for everything to download. That and the rising nausea that threatened to overtake her. Lynn, in desperation, started asking the interview questions (which, since they weren’t recorded, are lost to posterity—and to this book).

Suddenly Jared Padalecki walked by, meaning that autographs were over and people were getting ready to leave. We despaired of a recorded interview, heartbroken over the squandered opportunity. And then, quite unexpectedly, Jensen Ackles was standing there, smiling and saying hello. Even more improbably, he held a fluffy white dog in his arms. For a moment, Kathy was sure this was all part of the nightmare, because fandom at the time had no clue that Jensen even owned a dog. Icarus, however, was quite real—and quite fluffy. Icarus was almost as excited to see Jensen as we were—he’d apparently been whining backstage every time he heard his owner’s voice during the Q&A. We hugged Icarus while Jensen hugged Danneel and tried to talk her into riding with him to the airport. All Kathy heard in those words were that it was too late—she’d blown it.

Danneel, however, had other ideas. She blew Jensen off. No wait. This part can’t really be happening either. More of that dream? Kathy was contemplating poking herself with a sharp object, sticking her finger in a wall socket, anything to jar herself back into reality. This was surely just her own anxiety-ridden psyche toying with her. Must be. Who says goodbye to Jensen Ackles so that she can talk to US?? But Danneel really was excusing herself to say good-bye to Jensen, Icarus happily following, with assurances to us that she’d be right back to finish the interview. Kathy gathered together the few shreds of sanity she still had, sorted the problem, and figured out how to record directly onto the laptop.

Danneel returned, true to her word, and the interview finally began. We relocated to the “green room,” the cloistered room where the guests are confined between stage appearances. The green room, as we were well aware, is a private space—more or less a “No Fans Allowed” clubhouse for the celebrities. We immediately felt like imposters, occupying a space where we clearly shouldn’t be. The room offered a small banquet of food, a bit of which we gratefully sampled, and a table stacked full of fans’ gifts for “the boys.” The coolest of these was a hairdryer that looked exactly like Dean Winchester’s favorite gun—and yes, it actually worked!

Danneel, of course, was quite comfortable in the green room and turned out to be very good at making us comfortable as well. Lynn asked questions. Danneel answered. Kathy breathed. Everything was going to work out just fine. Somewhere the unicorns of fandom were neighing happily.

And then the laptop went dead.

Kathy again tried to be unobtrusive as she flailed around trying to find an outlet. No point in making a bigger fool of herself, right? Sooner or later, though, it became apparent that she was in need of assistance and everyone, including Danneel, was up and scouting for an outlet, crawling under tables and moving furniture to do so. Danneel, we decided, had the patience of a saint. She never lost her sense of humor either, shrugging off our apology for keeping her from accompanying Jensen to the airport by wryly noting that “Jared would have been in the limo anyway, it’s not like we could have made out on the way to the airport” and jumping up to knock on wood when we asked her about the possibility of marriage.

In the midst of all the sitcom mishaps we did manage to carry on an interview…

You can read the rest of our misadventures (and the interview itself) with Danneel in the book, but Kathy and I left that day with a respect and affection for Danneel that has never faded.

Jensen posted a photo of her plunging a clogged toilet today for her birthday, and I laughed because it makes it clear that she’s still as genuine as she was that day she got down on the floor and crawled around looking for an outlet right along with us.

I’ve had the opportunity to chat with Danneel several times since our hilarious interview, and I think most people who have run into her at the brewery would say this too – she’s not afraid to be real.

I’m so glad Danneel was able to be part of Supernatural as a cast member before it ended, but really she’s always been part of the SPN Family. Happy birthday, Danneel – thanks for keeping it real!

–Lynn

Source: [x]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, m&f, intercourse)

This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader is a fic writer and her number one fan can’t get enough.

Note: This is probably the most meta shit I’ve written but for all the fic writers out there, this one if for you. Hope y’all get the good d you deserve but until then, here’s this!

Please let me know what you think in a reblog/reply! <3 please and thank you.

You let out a sigh of relief and hit ‘post’. It was almost pathetic but it was the best part of your day, or most days. Having something to share with others was nice. The fact that they enjoyed your work and your boredom-induced work made it worth the frustration. 

It wasn’t real writing. You knew that. Fanfiction was a genre to be laughed at. You didn’t admit it to anyone but there was a sense of pride to go along with the shame. 

That part of you was kept online. The darker parts; the lust, the angst, the fear. It all went hand in hand and no one would guess that the bookshop assistant was stevies-doll. It felt almost scandalous to have a virtual alter ego.

You closed your laptop and checked the time. More than enough to get ready for work. Plain blouse, grey pants, mary jane flats. You were the typical bookish girl with dreams that would never come true. 

The bus was late. Oh well. You’d still be there in time you’d just have to forego your usual espresso. Afternoons were draining and you often needed the boost to keep from nodding off in the last hour. You really weren’t sure why the shop stayed open so late; not many came out after five for books but traffic was relatively steady in the hipster village.

Nina met you with a frown. She preferred you at least ten minutes earlier. Tardiness had seen several other clerks fired and you had been the only to make it more than a year in the shop. Three in fact. This place was like a second home. A garden of ideas to plant the seeds of your mind.

When Nina left, you rearranged the desk. You moved aside her ledger and replaced it with your notebook, two pens to the right of it. In between the chime of the door and the rare customer queries you did most of your writing. When you reached a block you’d read, but today you felt particularly inspired.

The world was saved again. The news reports had shown footage of the daring rescue. As grim as the situation was, you couldn’t help but fantasize. The first avenger with his golden hair and sharp jawline was every woman’s Adonis. At least, you thought he was the very picture of perfection.

It wasn’t obsession. That was your mantra. You often argued with yourself. As much as you thought of the great Steve Rogers, it was only admiration. It wasn’t the possessive infatuation often found on social media. It was a hobby. An escape from the world. 

You bent over the notebook. The shop was empty. The dulcet tones of indie folk floated along the shelves. You set pen to paper and waited for the ring to draw you away from the world behind your eyes. 

You leaned on the counter and scribbled the first line in ink. That was always the hardest part. Then again, the beginning was always more exciting than the end.

‘The day the earth went dark, there was but one beacon left to shine…’

-

It was amusing at first. The thought of another person spending so much time writing about him. That someone would fabricate an entire universe in which he was entirely different. Somewhere out there was a woman who wore the pseudonym ‘stevies-doll’.

Steve knew he should have been perturbed by the fact. The idea of another so consumed by him that they would post almost every other day about him. He couldn’t remember how he stumbled on the small blog. A decent following but nothing close to viral. 

The first story he read was cute. It even made him feel warm. The second was very much the same. He clicked through to another, this one more serious. Grey and daunting. A few more and he stumbled upon one he found most interesting, the letters NSFW emblazoned across the top. He googled the acronym and clicked back to the tab. Excited almost.

When he finished, he was warm in another way. Hot, almost. The things he read, the idea of him doing them, was almost arousing. Of course, he had never done any of it. Had never been more than the perfect gentlemen. Sweet and doting. That was how love should be. But that wasn’t love, no, that story was sex. Pure, unadulterated fucking.

He forced himself away from the computer after that. He needed to sleep. He had intended to browse his email quickly but he often found himself in the oddest rabbit-holes. That was definitely the deepest. He shook his head and chuckled. It was funny.

The next morning he awoke and went about his usual routine. He was out the door by seven. Off to save the world. Or wait around for it to need saving. At Stark Tower, he listened to Tony with his eyes on his phone. It wasn’t anything important. Some recounting about how he had scared Pepper with a nano-spider. 

Steve gave a half-hearted chuckle and Tony went back to his screen. “Tough audience,” He muttered to Bruce who merely shook his head.

Steve leaned against a stool and squinted at his phone. He stared at the google search. Why had he typed it in? Somewhere in the tedium of Tony’s chatter, he had keyed in the name. He hit the first link and his phone loaded slowly. 

His own face stared back at him. The banner was a press photo he had taken over a year ago. His bright eyes were staunch beneath the mask as he stared off into the distance. She had posted again. His thumb hovered over ‘read more’. Did he dare? 

He looked up to make sure he was not being observed. The two scientists were too distracted to care about his online activity. He stood straight and cleared his throat. “I’m gonna hit the gym,” He lied. A grumble from both scientists as they squinted at the floating screens. “Right, have fun.” Steve said dryly as he left them to their work.

He stepped out in the hall and pressed his thumb to the screen. He bent his head over the phone as he walked blindly down the halls. Neither Tony or Bruce noticed through the window that he had gone entirely the wrong way. Steve didn’t either as his eyes flitted over the screen.

‘The day the earth went dark, there was but one beacon left to shine…’

-

You couldn’t believe how much your blog had grown in the last few months. You didn’t know if it betrayed your unexciting life or your one-track mind. Both, maybe. But it made your everyday responsibilities a little less tedious.

And the messages were even better than the hit count. Several had messaged to say they loved your work and went so far as to call you an inspiration. It was flattering but it was easy to remember who you were. No Stephen King or JK Rowling. You wrote silly one shots with limited development. 

Today your inbox had been steady. Every time you found yourself bored at work, you opened the app and you had another message. Most of them short or even just emojis but nice nonetheless. And there was one you were waiting to answer

So long and in depth you had to give it more than just a thanks. You opened it several times and reread it.

‘Your story is really interesting. I think the way your portray Steve is believable. In this type of writing you rarely find anything realistic but your writing feels genuine if not entirely accurate. I would say you capture the essence of Steve perfectly and his actions at least make sense.

I always enjoy your updates and even look forward to them...especially the NSFW ones. ;)’

It was one of the few users who didn't use the anonymous feature and also left a complete comment. It was refreshing and you had come to look forward to their commentary. They went by CapUSA. Another Steve fangirl who was surprisingly inactive outside your blog. Her page was almost a clone of your own. They liked every post, reblogged, and commented. What more could a writer ask for?

Original characters maybe and not just fantasies of someone who’d never know of her existence. You closed your laptop and sighed. It felt like time. You could feel the block at the back of your head. The little thrill you got was wearing off and it felt like a phase better left to fade with your emo days in high school and that month in university when you dyed your hair purple.

You readied for work. Back on days that week. Opening was always easier. It didn’t feel so drawn out. Nina would be in at one and you’d keep her company until four. It meant little time for writing. Maybe that was for the better. You needed to start planning. For the future. For something truly your own. A fantasy so detached from reality that it would make market and maybe even a dime.

That was your dream. You didn’t want to be the listless fangirl forever. Ugh, how you hated to even call yourself a fangirl. No post today, you resigned. Maybe none tomorrow. You’d have to work up the courage to announce your hiatus. Life was calling and for once a sliver of genuine inspiration. 

And the bookstore. It was Shakespeare’s birthday, which conveniently was also his death day. This meant two for one on all of his works. Nina also  hired actors to stand outside the shop and re-enact famous scene from the playwright’s repertoire. They wouldn’t arrive till noon but you had a lot of set-up to do. Enough to keep you from thinking of the disappointed messages that would fill your inbox.

-

Steve scrolled through the pale pink blog for the dozenth time that morning. It had been two weeks since stevies-doll posted. The longest two weeks of his life. He wasn’t sure when it had become a staple in his life. A ritual almost. He’d read her latest fic as he laid down and try to clear his head of blood and grime. Lose himself in the person she dreamed he was. The man he had come to envy. Fictional but all too real in his head.

But there was nothing. At first he re-read and read again. But that grew old. He knew almost every story by heart at this point. He could recite the intro line to most and he fell asleep as his imagination reconstructed the things he had never done. 

Her banner flashed across his sight when he woke, the image of his blue eyes staring beyond him. He’d come to think of her Steve as an altar ego. The beast buried deep inside of him. He was tired of being the nation’s golden child. Their unwavering moral beacon. He wanted to be him and she had helped him figure out who he truly was.

But she was gone. No green dot above her name in the chat window, her last post dated fourteen days ago, her blog like a time capsule. The ice that had preserved him for seventy years. Where was she?

Then a thought struck him. A devious one. He had been on enough missions to know his way around a computer. He considered himself quite savvy after living nearly a decade ahead of his time. It was simple enough. He tracked down many a drug pin this way and they were often concealed behind walls of encryption. He doubted she had more than a store-bought antivirus, if that.

He climbed out of bed and booted his computer. His leg shook impatiently and he tossed his phone just beneath the corner of the monitor. He rubbed his palms together as the home screen loaded and he clicked on the browser.

Her IP was simple enough to find. Right-click, inspect. When he found it, he felt his heart jump. This was a line. A very clear one. If he did this, there was no going back. He let go of the mouse and leaned his chin in his hands. He stared at her page, split by the window of code, and his jaw ticked.

He hit back and went to the messenger. He clicked on her name and his fingertips ran over the space bar. He didn’t know what to say. He’d send her little asks about her fics but he never messaged her directly. Would she respond?

‘Hey,’ He typed slowly, his fingers sped up with each key, ‘I’m a fan of your work. I think it’s excellent. I just wanted to check in and see if you were still writing for this blog.’

He hit enter and waited. He focused on the grey dot beside her name. If she saw this, it likely wouldn’t be until morning. He checked the time and sighed. It was late. He had an early briefing with Tony and he should try to sleep. 

He hovered the cursor over the x but the dot turned green and he paused. The little ‘...’ blipped in the bottom of the chat box and the ding of her reply was music to his ears.

‘Hey, sorry. I know I’ve been quiet lately. I’ve just been so busy with work. I’m a bit behind at the moment. Thank you though for following me. I always enjoy your comments :)’ He read it several times before he could reply. Before he could even think of the words to.

‘It’s okay. We all have responsibilities. Take your time.’ He wanted to tell her to hurry up but who knew? She might be someone important, like a lawyer or teacher. He could wait. As long as there was hope. 

‘Thanks. I appreciate that. Really.’ That response was quicker. Curt, almost.

‘I don’t want to overstep but are you okay?’ His cheeks were hot.

‘Ah, you know, life.’

He scratched his chin as he leaned back in his chair. Slowly he sat forward and typed. It took him three tries to get it right. Concerned but not pushy. ‘Anything you wanna talk about?’ He waited. The three dots appeared then faded. Several times before her answer blipped up.

‘I don’t wanna trouble you but I appreciate you asking. Nothing I won’t get over.’

‘Ok, no problem. Just know that if you need it, I could listen. It’s could to talk about stress.’ He laughed at himself. He should take his own advice. He had a horrible habit of letting things pile up until he burst at the seams.

‘Thanks again. I’ll ttyl. I gotta get some sleep. Have a good one.’

‘You, too,’ He replied a bit too quickly. ‘Talk to you then.’

-

You were ready to post again. It had been almost a month since your last fic and you had been reluctant to return. You couldn’t help checking in daily to see your notifications and scroll mindlessly through your own content. And your offline writing had come to a halt. You were stuck and you didn’t know how else to cope but fall back on what you knew.

Your new friend had helped too. CapUSA had quickly become a stalwart of your blog. She, or he, you still weren’t sure, spoke to you almost everyday. They encouraged you to try one more fic as you mulled over a certain prompt. Why not? It would be like a writing exercise. Maybe it would help you with your original writing. Take some of the pressure off.

And you didn’t just talk about writing. You talked about the bookstore and Nina’s incessant complaints. You talked about the stresses of your lives. Friends, or lack thereof. Cap seemed a popular person and recounted stories of the latest drama. A close knit group of friends who acted more like adversaries. It was amusing and made your forget that your life was rather empty.

You hit post and smiled. That familiar rush rolled over you and you snapped closed your laptop. You were already dressed and ready for work. You crammed in the quick editing session before the bus was due and now you’d have to run for it.

Back on afternoons. It was rainy and you were soaked by the time you got to the shop. The weather always helped traffic and you ducked behind the counter where Nina was tending to the line with Cara, a new addition. The curly-haired blonde reminded you of old Hollywood. Her high cheekbones and rose lips rivaled Monroe’s.

“Do you want me to start early?” You asked as you tucked your bag under the counter between them.

“You better. I’m gone in ten and Cara’s only on til three.” Nina muttered. “We got a new shipment. Boxes are at the end of the aisles. We’ve not had a chance to touch ‘em.”

“Okay, I’ll get right on it,” You pin your name tag on and stepped back around the counter. She was in one of her moods and all the better that you avoid her until she left. You went to the end of the history aisle and opened the box against the wall.

‘You working?’ The vibration drew your attention from re-arranging the non-fiction section. The message floated in a bubble on your lock screen. You smiled. This faceless stranger felt like more. Of course, virtual friendships were often fleeting.

You glanced down the aisle, both Nina and Cara were squinting at the computer as a customer waited patiently for them to figure out their conundrum. You swiped away the lock and typed swiftly with your phone hidden behind your leg. 

‘Closing. Here all night.’

‘Oh :( you got company at least?’

‘For a couple more hours. But no shortage of work. :/’

‘Damn. Should I leave you alone?’

‘Up to you. My responses might be sporadic. Boss isn’t very pleasant today.’

‘Cool. I just read your new fic.’ 

‘Yeah? Sorry I haven’t checked my notifications just yet.’

‘No problem. I left a comment is all.’

‘What are you up to?’

‘Taking a break from driving. I should actually get back to it. It’s a long trip.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To see a friend.’

‘Ah, ok. Well, drive safe.’

‘I will ;) See ya later.’

‘ttyl :)’

-

‘Nina’s Nook’. Steve read the crooked moniker several times over. He couldn’t believe he was actually there. That she was inside. He made good time on the road. An eight hour trip in six. Of course, he hadn’t exactly abided the speed limit. His impatience had turned to recklessness. So unlike him.

The sky was dim. The summer nights came later and later. She’d be done in an hour. The streets were dying down and the door hadn’t chimed in almost as long. He felt nervous all of a sudden. He tried to shrug of his anxiety and took a breath. 

She wouldn’t know it was him. Well, she might recognize him but she wouldn’t know he was CapUSA. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction. Steve Rogers in her bookshop. In this town. It would be a story she would recount for the rest of her life. An encounter she would never forget. 

Oh, he’d make sure she remembered it.

He crossed the street. A single car passed as he stepped up on the curb. It was much quieter than New York. No honking, no shouts, no hissing sewers. He liked it. It was quaint. He stood before the door and peeked through the glass. There was no one behind the desk. But the sign read open and the lights shone in welcome.

He pushed down the handle and slowly opened the door. The bell announced his entrance and a small voice called from the corner of the shop. “One moment, please.” He heard the shuffle of books and light footsteps. She emerged from the far shelves and his lips parted at the sight of her.

He had seen her before. Her few photos on Facebook and Instagram. He had found those shortly after he ferreted out her IP. He couldn’t see much but her privacy settings allowed him a glimpse into her real life. Her smile was nicer than in her pictures. 

“Sorry, I was--” She stopped short as she saw him. She blinked. He closed his mouth as hers fell open. Her voice was higher when she spoke next. “I was just sorting some stuff out. I--How can I help you?”

“Um, a friend recommended a book to me and I was passing by, I thought maybe by chance… you might have it.” He kept his voice even. The same one he used for his press conferences.

“Do you have a title?” She asked. He could see her fingers tremble. The guilt as her eyes rounded. She was thinking of all the things she had wrote about him. He was thinking of those too.

“Jeez, you know, I’ve totally forgotten but the author was, uh…” He pretended to think and his eyes drifted down her body. Her flowered blouse was boxy but her pants hugged the curves of her hips and legs. She clasped her hands together and the gesture pushed her chest together between her arms. “Margaret Archer--er, Atwood.”

“Hmm, she’s done a lot. Do you know what it’s about?” She pulled her hands apart and wiped her palms on her dark pants. His eyes followed the movement. He wanted his hands there. Wanted to feel her thighs against him.

“Something about an apocalypse...um, a character named...Snow--Snow something.” He acted like he coudn’t remember. Couldn’t recall that it was stevies-doll who had recommended the very book. 

“Oh, Oryx and Crake, I think it is. It’s an interesting one.” She smiled, proud to have figured out the riddle. “If you will, it should be with our most popular books.”

She hesitated as she passed him. He followed her as she went to the shelf just beside the counter. She hovered her finger before the titles as she read them. She bent as she got lower. He admired her ass as she did. He tucked his hands in his pocket before he could reach out.

“Yeah, I think it’s in sci-fi.” She stood and peeked over her shoulder. “It’s just over here.” She led him down the narrow aisle to the end. “Starts just here so Atwood…” She scanned the shelf, “Here.” She pulled out the book and held it out to him. “We have it in hardcover too.”

He took it and felt the raised letters on the cover. “Thanks.” He didn’t even acknowledge the book in his hand. The aisle was so tight she was trapped between him and the wall. She gave a sheepish smile and he turned to press his back to the shelf. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

She nodded and squeezed past him. Her chest brushed against his torso and she pretended not to notice. Once past him, she cleared her throat. “If you need any help, I’ll be up front.” She turned before he could respond and her watched her go. He never would’ve guessed the mousy shop assistant would have such a lurid imagination.

-

You were in disbelief. It couldn’t be. Steve Rogers in your book shop? No, you were dreaming. Or was it a nightmare? Oh god, why had you written all that stuff? You needed to delete. Now. You could hear him. The floor creaked as he moved slowly down the aisle. You hoped he would’ve taken the book and gone. The longer he stayed, the worse you felt. Your cheeks were on fire.

Your phone vibrated. You swiped the screen and found a new message from CapUSA. You sighed and rubbed your eyes. You should just pretend you didn’t see it. You unlocked the phone and read the message.

‘Hey, how’s work?’

‘It’s fine.’ You answered. What could you say? Who would believe that Steve Rogers had walked in your door?

‘I just was thinking about your last fic.’

‘Oh yeah?’ You peeked over at the far aisle. The floor no longer whined with his weight.

‘Yeah, I’d love to re-enact the last scene.’

‘Sorry?’ You sent the message and it went unanswered. ‘I don’t get it. What do you mean?’

‘The one with the girl on her knees. Begging to be fucked.’

‘Okay? I still don’t understand.’ Your heart jumped. This was really weird.

‘Or maybe and I could fuck you on that counter you’re standing behind.’

You hit close and locked the phone. You dropped it and looked around the shop. You rushed out from behind the counter and glanced out the window. You turned the latch and the floorboards groaned. You turned and pressed yourself to the door. You forgot he was there. 

How could you forget something like that?

“Sorry, uh, we’re closing up,” You felt around for the lock, “I was just--”

“That’s okay. I think I’m just about done.” He slapped the book against his palm and placed it on the corner of the counter. He set his phone on top of it with a flourish. “Why don’t you flip the sign and we can get started.”

“What are you--”

“Do you prefer I call you by your real name or stevies-doll?” He leaned against the counter and smirked. “Or I can just call you doll. I know you like that.”

“No,” You exhaled shakily, “Y-you can’t be…”

“You’re not happy to see me?” He asked. He didn’t sound like the hero you saw on the news. Barely looked like him now. His pupils dilated to darken his blue eyes and the shadows of the shop cast his face in sinister tones. “You can call me Stevie if you like.”

“I...What I wrote, it was just...” You spluttered. “I’m s-sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.” He pushed himself away from the counter. “I’m not mad. Intrigued really.”

He stepped closer and your ears pounded as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. You turned and fumbled with the lock. The door opened an inch before his hand slammed it shut again. He easily flipped the lock back into place and spun the sign with a flick of his thumb. 

“You can close early and we can have some fun...maybe inspire a new fic.” His arm was around your waist and you grabbed onto his thick wrist.

“They’re just stories.” You kicked as he pulled you away from the door. He tugged the blind down over the window. “Stupid fantasies.”

“Well, consider this a dream come true, doll,” He spun and let you go. You collided with the desk and gasped as the air was knocked from your lungs. “I think you remember this scene.”

“What do you want?” You clung to the desk as you turned to him. 

“You know, I’m everything people think I am. Straight-laced, valiant, boring.” He planted his feet and stared you down. “Or was...until I found your blog.” His tongue ran across his bottom lip. “It gets lonely on the road. At first, your blog was like a secret companion. It gave me something to look forward to but then it made me think. So many things I never even knew I was missing out on.”

“Please, I don’t know what you want from me,” Your voice cracked. Your fear surged and left you shaking against the counter.

“I want…” He tilted his head and his eyes flashed, “You.” He paused and pushed his shoulders back. “On your knees.” Your eyes rounded, “Oh yes,” He raised a finger, “Naked.”

You stared at him. You were frozen in place. The counter your only support from melting into a puddle. His nostrils flared as he exhaled; long and drawn out. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” He snarled and his hand balled into a fist.

You gulped and held yourself with one hand against the counter as you bent to unlace your oxfords. You kicked them off with your socks and mustered your strength. You stood on your own and unbuttoned your shirt. You kept your eyes on the aged carpet stretched across the hardwood.

You dropped the blouse onto your shoes and unzipped your fly. The wool trousers slid halfway down without help and you untangled your legs from them. You added them to the heap and stood straight.

“Look at me,” Steve ordered. Your eyes snapped over to him. “Good.” You reached back and he raised a hand. “Stop...I wanna do it.”

He waved you forward and slowly you stepped away from the counter. He bared his palm in a gesture for you to halt and you hung your head. “Eyes up.” He corrected as he came closer. He walked around you and stopped just behind you.

His thick fingers touched the band of your bra and ran along it until they met at the hooks. He carefully unclasped it and the cups fell loose. He tickled your arms as he pushed the straps down them. He took it and flung it away from him. His hands came up to cup your tits and he pushed himself flush to your back.

“You always wrote so vividly of me but...I never knew how beautiful you truly were...how good you feel.” He squeezed and slowly lowered his hands. He dragged them to the side of your panties and slipped his fingers beneath the elastic. He bent as he guided the panties down your legs. “God, that ass.”

You shivered and his hands cradled your ass. He ran his rough palms along your cheeks and up your back. They settled on your shoulders and he pushed down firmly. “On your knees.”

He stepped back and you unsteadily got to your knees. He walked another circle around you. You could hear his dusky breaths. Glimpsed how his hand ran over the front of his jeans. 

“Now ask, like a good girl,” He stopped before you and stared down with a smirk. “Go on, doll, I know you want it.”

You closed your eyes and swallowed. You grit your teeth and gather what was left of your wits. A story. That’s all this was. The letters could be backspaced and no one would know better of it. 

“Please,” You recalled the last scene you had posted. The tingle which had flowed through you as you hit the button. What had she said? You opened your eyes. “Please, I want to...I want to make you happy.” You shuddered as the words whisked from you. “Can I?”

“Can you...what?” He taunted.

“Can I suck your dick?” It was barely a whisper. 

“Oh, well, since you asked so nicely,” His hands were on his belt as he spoke. “But I have a different scene in mind for tonight. A new one.” He unbuckled his belt and cracked his neck. “I want you on the counter. On your back.”

You made to stand and his hand went to your head. He held you down. 

“Crawl.”

You weakly dropped forward and turned. You crawled on hands and knees as he followed, stopping just in front of the desk as you followed his pointed finger to the other side. You stood and lifted yourself onto the counter and laid on your back. He guided your head over the side as he pulled you close and his hands found your tits again. He tweaked your hard nipples and you bit your lip.

He rescinded his hands and finished unzipping his pants. You tried not to watch as he pushed his pants down, his briefs too. The blur focused and you gaped at the size of him. He gripped himself and you snapped your mouth shut. He grabbed your chin and squeezed.

“Now, now, don’t act like this isn’t what you wanted,” He pressed his cock to your mouth and you were forced to open as his fingers threatened to crush your jaw.

He slid inside and your gasp was stifled as he met the back of your throat. He forced himself further and you threw your arms out. A clatter of books and papers as you swept them off the counter. He lingered at his limit and wiggled his hips. You arched your back as you choked and he grabbed your tit, kneading it as he slowly pulled out.

He pushed back in just as you gulped down air and you writhed atop the desk. He thrust in and out of your mouth. You gagged and groaned. The noises only fueled his fervour and he sunk in over and over until your head pulsed. The spit smeared around your lips and his balls.

He pulled back and slammed back in suddenly. His motion slowed as he came. He grunted, his breaths stuttered by the staggered rock of his pelvis. You clawed at the counter top and kicked until you could breathe again.

He slipped his cock from between your lips and his cum leaked from your mouth. You sat up and coughed. His hands were on your shoulders again. His fingers danced along your throat as if to ease your struggles.

“Come on, that’s just the first act,” He drew away and you glanced over your shoulder. “Turn around.” 

You turned on the desk and he pulled your legs over the edge. He pushed your knees apart and stepped back to admire the view. You dug your nails into the lip of the counter to keep yourself from closing your legs.

“I know you’ve been dying to see this,” He grinned and pulled his shirt over his head. 

His cock hung out of his pants. It twitched as he tossed his shirt at you. You caught it. It smelled like him. He shoved his pants down without pause and he hardened again. You dropped his shirt and looked away guiltily. 

Had you not written this scene a dozen times over?

He was completely naked when you looked again. He came close, his hands on your knees as he knelt before you. You tried to pull your legs together but he held them apart. He shook his head and tutted. 

“Just sit back and enjoy,” He licked his lips. “Trust me, it’s better than you could ever imagine.”

Your shock took over completely. You watched as he bowed his head and you felt his hot breath on your thighs. When his tongue met your pussy you gasped. He delved between your folds and swirled around your clit. Your nails went deeper into the wood and your thighs shook. It felt good. It shouldn’t, though.

He buried his face deeper and you watched his golden locks from above. He reached over blindly, his large hand found yours, and he guided it to the back of his head. He held it there a moment before letting go. You clung to him as he hands glided up your thighs and he framed your vee with thumb and index.

You arched your back and moaned. It was your declaration of surrender. You couldn’t resist it any longer. The heat stirred inside of you, the flames licking at your thighs and back. You urged Steve closer though he couldn’t possibly go any deeper. 

His hands slipped down to the outside of your thighs. Your legs closed around his head and held him there. He tipped you slightly and you curled around him as he continued to lap. Your breaths mixed with throaty hums and you fell back. 

You had one hand still on his head and the other in your hair as you cried out in a mighty climax. He didn’t stop until you were shaking across the counter. When at last his mouth left you, you shivered. A sudden coolness washed over your body. He stood and you looked at him through the haze.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you to your feet. You wavered and he spun you quickly. You caught yourself on the desk and he slapped your ass. “That’s it,” He purred. “You’re getting it now.”

He nudged your shoulder until you were bent entirely over the counter, your toes barely met the floor. He rubbed your ass and pulled your cheeks apart. His cock poked you as his hand slipped lower and he tickled just below your ass. You squirmed and he chuckled.

He felt around and his cock slipped lower as he bent his knees. He dragged his tip along your folds before prodding at your entrance. He shoved his hand between your legs and forced them apart. 

He pushed inside and slowly stretched you around him. Your head shot up at the strain. A mix of pain and pleasure as he got deeper and deeper.

You whined as he bottomed out and his hips bucked almost instinctively. He hit your cervix and you cried out. He eased out and pushed back in. He repeated this again and again, his motion careful. Deliberate. He brought his pelvis flush to your ass and groaned.

“Fuck,” He slapped your ass again. 

He drew back and slammed into you all at once. All restraint was lost and he thrust mercilessly. His pace was wild. You reached out to grab at the edge of the counter, your hips hitting the other painfully. The spark had caught and you felt the flame about to burst. 

Your orgasm was surprising. More agony than pleasure. You whimpered and pushed your head into the counter as you heaved. You could barely breath as Steve never wavered. He fucked until you until your walls ached. Until they turned numb and you were nothing but a mewling fool before him.

He bent over your, his muscled torso against your sweaty back. He rutted atop you frantically. His hips jerked as his grunts deepened. His breath caught and he swore. He lifted himself off you and you felt the warmth spill down your ass and thigh. 

You laid breathless as he panted behind you. He rubbed his cum into your skin with two fingers and you shook. You tried to push yourself up from the desk. He caught your hip and shoved you back down.

“Oh, we’re not even close to the finale,” He pinched your ass and you squeaked. “Not to mention the epilogue.”

-

tags to be added in reblog

[agentofship]

One last game of Tag? Agents of Shield #PartingShot

With this tag game, I want to know the answers to these five (5) questions and then tag 5 or more mutuals. Wasn’t tagged but want to join? Join in ! Everyone is an essential part of this fandom! Name from @ agent.of.shield_ on Instagram ( @agents-of-fangirling ) who had a great idea to post a picture of yourself with a drink (or just a drink) and tag it #partingshot as a finale goodbye to the show (which I also am going to post tomorrow on IG).

I was tagged by the wonderful @ofitzsimmons and @2minutes2midnight <3 Thank you for thinking of :) And of course I’ve waited for the last minute to do it! :D

Where were you in life when you first started to watching AoS?

My life wasn’t that much different from what it is now but it’s still nice to think that I’m still in a slightly better place now. I started almost from the beginning. My friend who’s a big Marvel movies fan started watching from the beginning and pestered me for months, knowing I love the movies too. So I think I started around the mid-season break of season and quickly caught up. I came for Coulson and Ming-Na that I knew from other shows and I really liked the show from episode one but it’s FZZT who stole my heart and made me go “Oh, so this is going to be my new obsession, isn’t it?” I’ve always been a fangirl but I hadn’t been this in love with the show since X-Files from 14 to my early twenties. Back then, I was struggling a bit to make a living out of being a freelance graphic designer and illustrator and living in a tiny apartment I still have nightmares where I have to go live there again! So it was nice to dive into AoS and have a little escape from reality. To the point where it made me want to write my first fanfic ever, back around the end of season three, which was also my first step into the fandom. I really started interacting with fandom after the end of season five thanks to the wonderful @libbyweasley who was the first person who came to talk to me because I was way too shy to go and talk to people myself <3 And I couldn’t thank her enough for it.

Where are you now?

For a few years now, I’m finally able to make enough money as a graphic designer/illustrator and I even make a tiny bit of it thanks to my writing. And I think part of what has encouraged me to write more of my children’s book stories (in French) and send them to publishers is the fantastic reactions I’ve been getting for my fanfics :) I’ve also moved from my tiny apartment to a much nicer one about a year and a half ago and that has made a big difference in my life. I’ve also been able to travel a lot more and finally see the Northern Lights which has been one of the most magical experiences of my entire life. Now, traveling is what I miss the most even though I’ve been lucky to go Norway in January before this whole mess that is 2020 happened. But once again, AoS got me through the worse of lockdown and my anxiety issues. Writing and reading fanfics all with the promise that at least, we’d have new episodes in May, made things a little better. And chatting with my fandom friends on a daily basis had been a real breath of fresh air when I was locked at home for two months with only my boyfriend :D  And now here I am, totally unable to focus on anything not AoS and having knots in stomach about the finale :D The last time I was this stressed out was for the season five finale. Now I have no doubt I’ll be crying my eyes out just as much but let’s hope it’s not for the same reasons :D

What character development arc (or storyline in general) did you love the most?

It’s too hard to choose so I won’t :D Fitz and Simmons. Because their storyline is so often entwined but not only. They’re typically the kind of characters I get attached to, awkward tiny geniuses who are too adorable for words and both their stories have been incredible. And I was attached from the beginning but boy, if I had any idea how they would evolve during the show.  Jemma was this sweet, incredibly smart and awkward SHIELD Hermione who was always confident despite an hilarious incapability to lie or flirt. And we saw her go undercover, survive on an alien planet and become this badass boss lady and field agent. But I also loved how she went from being scared of her feelings and wanting things to be neat and compartmentalized to embracing it all. I loved seeing her ruthless in her search for Fitz because she so often pushed her feelings and needs to the side and for once, she decided to go after what she wanted and refused to be told otherwise. Fitz was the cute, comic relief of season one and ended up being probably the most dramatic character on the show. From his brain trauma to becoming a badass man on a mission to find Simmons. And then adding more layers to the character as we finally learned his backstory and got to discover the dark side of him. Of course, the writing for this character is fantastic but it wouldn’t be the same without Iain and his beautiful, subtle and always incredibly consistent way of interpreting him. I am very attached to both these characters and I’ve been wanting to give them a hug since the end of season one. Hopefully, they end up in a place where they get to enjoy each other’s hugs all the time but just because they can, not because they need it. 

What will you miss the most?

Everything! Looking forward to new episodes, watching new episodes and being too excited too sleep on the night before a new one. Crying my eyes out over a very emotional scene.  And also all the fandom stuff like going crazy about a tiny bit on a blurry picture and overanalyzing every interview. Coming up with ridiculous theories just for the fun of it (Hello evil LMD Jemma :D) or more realistic theories and seeing them being true.  And in general, I regret not joining the fandom sooner cause it has been so much fun these past few years <3 But I know the fandom won’t die and I also look forward to many more years of fanfics and fanart and I’m looking forward to meeting some of you next year <3

Favourite quote?

I will have to go with Jemma’s quote about the first law of thermodynamics in the pod scene in 1x22. It’s a beautiful scene in a beautiful setting and the way Jemma says it in such a soft, almost peaceful voice is as heartbreaking as it is heartwarming. And it’s also very representative of my personal views on life and death and it’s really kind of reassuring. I like to think about the first law of thermodynamics, that no energy in the universe is created and... none is destroyed. That means that every bit of energy inside us, every particle will go on to be a part of something else. Maybe live as a dragonfish, a microbe, maybe burn in a supernova ten billion years from now. And every part of us now was once a part of some other thing - a moon, a storm cloud, a mammoth. A monkey. Thousands and thousands of other beautiful things that were just as terrified to die as we are. We gave them new life. Good one, I hope.

Lots of people have been tagged already but I’m gonna tag: @libbyweasley @sunalsolove @blancasplayground @accio-the-force @valentinaonthemoon @clementinewhy @springmagpies and all my mutuals who want to do it and haven’t been tagged yet, I’d love to read it :)

[bazzybelle]

Name ten favorite characters from ten different things (books, tv, film, etc.), then tag ten people.

Thank you @fight-surrender and @xivz for tagging me! I send you hearts and happy. 

I won’t be tagging ten people, because I’m all tagged out... But if anyone wants to have the fun, by all means go ahead.

1) Simon Snow from Carry On / Wayward Son

So, kind of an obvious choice. I mean my favourite character from the series is Baz (to no one’s surprise) however, I relate SO much to Simon, it’s insane (which is ironic, considering I have so much trouble writing his POV). I especially relate to him in Wayward Son, with his depression, thoughts of worthlessness, thinking your partner deserves better than you, fucking intimacy issues.... 

At the same time, there’s also the need to always fight. Shit is hard, and life is hard, but I’m still fighting. And some days, I want to stay in bed and not go outside, but I’m fighting that urge. 

2) Luna Lovegood from Harry Potter

So I was always seen as “the weird kid” in school. Always kinda in the clouds, saying random things, acting weird. I never really knew how to act around people (hell, I still don’t know how to act around people). Because of that, I was bullied... a lot. 

Media doesn’t really shine a positive light on those who are considered “weird”. They are often times pushed aside and are used as comedic props (at least, it didn’t when I was kid). I read Harry Potter in my 20′s, and I wish I had read the books earlier, because I saw myself in Luna. Luna is the weird kid, but she does not give a flying EFF about. She knows who she is, and she’s proud to express herself in anyway she can. 

3) Piper Halliwell from Charmed (OG Charmed)

I was introduced to fandom worlds because of Charmed, so I felt like I had to include it here. 

I always connected to Piper and her personality. I’m actually not the middle child, I’m the oldest. But in terms of my cousins, I’ve been the one who was drowned out by the others. Never wanting to fight, very complacent and going with what everyone else wanted to do. 

Piper was the quiet one, but she also knew how to get shit done. When her sister are being ridiculous, she’s the one that pulls them together. She’s the heart of the family, and takes care of those around her. I especially admired her taking the reigns as head of the family after Prue dies. She’s heart broken, destroyed, and wants to give up, but she knows she can’t. he has to be strong for those around her. She has to pick up the pieces and help her family move on. 

Piper rocks. 

4) Selva Chopper from Namesake

Selva is just a burst of sunshine and happiness. She lives with her heart on her sleeves and she’s perfectly happy to do so. Her favourite activities include dressing up and making clothes, kissing her wonderful girlfriend, Alice, and giving her twin brother crap for being a dummy sometimes. 

Selva wants to explore the world and live her life without fear and paranoia. She’s finally starting to get a proper handle on her powers, and she’s ready to just be happy and live outside of Oz. 

At the same time, she is not someone to be trifled with. She is a very powerful witch in her own right, and if you push her to that limit, she can be down right ruthless. 

5) Sansa Stark from Game of Thrones (TV show)

Ok... I know I’m going to get a lot of crap for this (especially since the ending of GoT is downright controversial within fandoms, and if you mention it, you need to be ready for an argument). I’m not here to argue about the ending... so, please be nice. 

ANYWAYS, I actually liked Sansa’s character, and I especially loved her character’s development, from naive pretty-girl, to a smart, capable ruler. Sansa demonstrates that you can always learn from your experiences and grow from them. She takes the honour learned from her father, and combines that with the ruthlessness learned from Cersei, as well as the cunning learned from Littlefinger, to gain independence for her people, and come through as one of the survivors of the Game of Thrones. 

6) Cather Avery from Fangirl

As someone who spent a good chunk of her life, obsessing over fandoms and living within them, I really felt a connection to Cath. I used the fanfiction and RPing groups I was a part of in order to escape the shitty reality of my life. Also... massive anxiety... so yeah...

I need to re-read that book... It’s been a while since I read it.  

7) Emily Prentiss from Criminal Minds

I love badass women in media and Emily Prentiss is a bad ass b*tch. She’s also my top crush for now and forever. I swoon over her. 

She’s strong, powerful, but also extremely kind and gentle and fiercely protective of her team. She speaks several different languages, and is very intelligent and perceptive (she’s the only one who figures out that Reid’s abusing drugs). She is everything I want to be... Also, I just like looking at her. *sigh*

8) Lucian Darnay from The Binding

I love him so effing much! This book ruined me... I want to take Lucian and just give him a big hug and tell him that he deserves to be happy and that everything he’s been taught to believe is wrong. 

9) Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle

This is recent, because I only saw the movie like a month ago, but I’ve latched onto it, and I’m a little obsessed (what... really... shocker, i know). It doesn’t help that my current favourite fic is @ninemagicks Howl fic, so that’s been feeding my Howl obsession. 

He’s just such a funny character and so over the top. Like I love how Sophie just yells at him and calls him on his bullshit... It’s great!

At the same time, he is so kind and gentle, and wants to do what’s best, even though he doesn’t always have the courage to do so. 

10) Faye Whitaker from Questionable Content 

I have been following this webcomic for many many years, and one of my favourite characters to follow is Faye. Her story has had so many ups and downs, and she has been through hell and back, and has come out on top. She has had to deal with a horrifying childhood memory, her issues with opening herself up to people, learning to allow herself to love, and what to do once you’ve hit rock bottom. 

Faye’s mental health journey is honestly inspiring. To see her finally in a stable, healthy relationship and doing something that makes her happy is so wonderful. 

[brokecollegenerd]

My Thoughts on WayV's comeback

This is their best comeback to date and I mean that. I feel like this comeback is WayV finally coming into their own and fully realizing their sound as a group. The MV and album feel very WayV, like an NCT song and group but WayV's flavor of NCT.

The MV/Title Song

This is my favorite MV for WayV and second favorite Title after Moonwalk. However, the overall combination of the two definitely goes to Turn back Time. Especially because THERE WAS SO MUCH WINWIN!!!!!

Like, a moment of me fangirling over my man WinWin getting an opening bit, a center part, and a very obvious rap part WITH A SOLO SHOT OF HIM!!!!! I am so happy for him, SM is doing what they should have done 4 years ago. This is WinWin's era in my opinion. He came and told me that he was my bias wrecker and I have no objections. As for my actual Bias, Kun was amazing in this as well. His vocals, his presence, he came to work and I love it so much. The other boys were just as good, Xiaojun vocals are god-like as always. Lucas was phenomenal and had great presence (and apparently doesn't know what a shirt is). Hendery was so suave, it was addicting. Yang Yang was an amazing rapper as always, and I loved his crazy artist thing he had going. Ten owned every part he was in especially that Dance Break.

Oh my gosh that Dance Break was heavenly!!! It was so cool and unique and my favorite Dance Break ever. Seriously, no one can top that Break in my eyes, it was both complex but simple and it worked so well. I also thought that it was such a WayV style Dance Break and I can't even fully explain why. The song itself is the type of Title that WayV does so we'll, powerful rap with beautiful vocals and an amazing dance break with Ten in the lead. Turn back Time is different enough from Take Off and Moonwalk to be it own entity but they are all structure the same way. WayV pulls these songs off so well that I don't mind it

The Album

THIS ALBUM IS A WORK OF ART AND NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE. Dear Lord do I love this album. After I finished listening to it for the first time, I immediately played it again. I haven't done that with an album since Exo's Obsession came out. Every song oozes a different type of sweetness, sadness, vulnerability, happiness, and sensuality. The best way I can described this album is that, it feels like one of those late-night conversations you have with a friend you're really close with on like an ice cream/coffee date. The they are slowly opening up with you. It starts off surface level in the beginning but once After Midnight comes on, the wall is torn down and they just want to be honest with you and tell you everything that they are thinking and feel. It ends with Stand by Me where they just want you to promise that after this talk you will still be their friend. The boys come through so clearly and the intimacy is very present. My personal favorite is probably Elastic Hearts closely followed by Domino and Stand by Me.

In short, GO CHECK OUT THIS ALBUM.

[monicalorandavis]

I saw ‘Knives Out’ a week ago and I’m still reeling

I saw ‘Knives Out’ a week ago and I’m still reeling. This movie is fun and I simply won’t talk to anyone who disagrees! I don’t want to argue about its merits. It’s good.

Your issue is, I presume, an issue with what the film says about the upper class. Go on, sympathize for the horrible, rich family that represents all that is ugly with America. Feel bad for the racist gargoyles who are equal parts human and checking account. These people are snobs. They are snob dumpster fires and if you didn’t have fun roasting them then you and I are on different sides of the war.

What war you ask? I guess I’ll call it the culture war (though that’s not really it). I’m talking about the current (unannounced) civil war between those who think Trump is getting unfairly maligned and us, the ones who are looking back on this shameful era ten years down the line, explaining to our kids what the fuck happened in 2019. This is bad. Art should make fun of us. Our obsession with fame and fortune has gotten us into global laughing stock territory. So let’s allow for art to poke fun as the bullshit of America. Art should be a reflection of our ugly parts. We all must look in the mirror when we try on a bathing suit. This is that. I choose not to place blame on the world for my muffin top. It’s funny. I’m gonna still have fun with this muffin, and this film, even if it doesn’t make me feel amazing. Laughing at yourself exorcises the demons. We still need art to encourage our spiritual progress. Don’t be such a stick in the mud.

So, now that I’ve sorted that out, the film...

It’s good.

Now let’s focus on the acting which is, arguably, always my favorite part of any movie.

Didn’t we all revel in the Yosemite Sam impression Daniel Craig was doing with New Orleans private investigator, Benoit Blanc? Wasn’t Lakeith Stanfield playing the slightly oblivious police detective while his partner fangirled over Christopher Plummer a treat?

It was.

In a society so obsessed with celebrity, it was especially delightful to watch the investigators reckon with people who simply did not believe they had to play by the rules. They don’t have to partake in police questioning. They have people for that!

Only, they do have to partake in police questioning and their lack of experience in dealing with authority figures, like the police, made them particularly horrible witnesses. They quite enjoyed a wonderfully anonymous type of wealth, free from press and the quotidian boredom of bosses, day jobs, rules...you get it. The Thrombey’s do not handle inconvenience very well.

As a result, we delight in their misfortune. This move dripped with Agatha Christie meets Succession realness. Plus subtle notes of Rupaul’s Drag Race camp.

Yes, I admit, Benoit Blanc is no Hercule Poirot. All these mystery purists coming for ‘Knives Out’ best fall back with those comparisons because it’s simply unfair. Christie’s number one Belgian is too good for mere mortals to emulate. And Daniel Craig tried very, very hard to give you an iconic detective character. Was it goofy and weird? Yes. Let’s all agree to move on.

And the moving on is a larger lesson here. Because only when you surrender to this film does it reveal all its gifts to you. Once you stop comparing it to all the other stories you hold so dear does it grow into its own animal. It’s a mystery for the age in which we find ourselves. I will not slander the p.c. police because, hell, I’m sort of one of them. Social justice warrior is not an insult that rustles my feathers. Interestingly, this film joins the SJW’s alongside the Stephen Miller’s of the world. White privilege is white privilege. And, unfortunately, the Thrombey’s, both young and old, liberal and conservative, are victims of their privilege. So blind to the plight of others, they can not help but make themselves the heroes of their own story. And people don’t like the thought that they, like the film’s youngest SJW of the family, Katherine Langford, could be part of the problem. And yet, she is. She so is.

Langford delivers a knockout performance of Taylor Swift-level white feminism that is so 2019 and clueless that I imagine many people even missed the joke.

Along those same lines, Chris Evans is the playboy, black sheep of the family who seems misunderstood and sexy but, spoiler alert, is just conniving and sexy.

Both performances were stellar and so deeply entrenched in modern white identity politics that if you’re not paying attention you might assume that their characters are just your standard rich villains. Nay. These are the “good white people” who are behaving badly. These are the white people who donate to charities and hire undocumented workers like Ana de Armas’ character, Marta. They are people who listen to rap music and love ‘Insecure’ and took an African-American studies class in college. And yet, they demand attention and emotional labor from the (employed) people around them. They distort proximity with closeness and try to lure Marta into their world. But she always knows better. For whatever reason, she can not trust these people, even before Harlan’s death.

Rian Johnson directs with a certain je ne sais quoi. Call it a ‘BDE’ that I would not expect from such a dweeby looking dweeb. Yes, ‘Knives Out’ has a fun enough story. But it really shows the fuck out is with its performances. Holy moly. No small roles, only small actors, as the saying goes. Yet in the case of ‘Knives Out’ you will find neither. Everybody is a god damn star. You should know that I stan Chris Evans but, as it turns out, this film begs you to worship its entire cast. So I did.

‘Knives Out’ is a star-making performance for Ana de Armas. If you hadn’t heard, de Armas garnered a Golden Globe nod and it is well-deserved. Armas’ Marta is a nuanced, funny, sensitive, conspirator in a plot that could’ve isolated the audience but instead put us smack dab in the middle of a moral quagmire.

Only the best actors can pull this off. Lesser actors have us turn against them while they flounder. Marta’s role in the family drama is as an outsider. In spite of their insistence that she is one of them, she keeps her distance, only clinging to Harlan. She fell for Chris Evans’ charms briefly, and I applaud Rian Johnson for avoiding a romance between the two (we didn’t need it) and focusing instead on the emotional betrayal. Marta was a woman with her head screwed on straight. In spite of her, possible, nursing fumbles she was the only kind person Harlan had in his life. She would never risk her loyalty to him by engaging in some foolishness with Chris Evans’ hunky ass.

And I repeat, I don’t care about your thoughts regarding inheritance. It is silly to contest that Marta deserved nothing less than the full sum of the fortune (*spoiler*). She deserved everything. She deserved an existence in this country free from citizenship anxiety. She deserved a partner who loved her. She deserved a friend who didn’t kill himself to save her ass. Least of all, she deserved Chris Evans’ character to be better. But, he was a product of his shitty family. How could he be better?

Three names: Jamie. Lee. Curtis. I need her in at least seven to twelve projects in the coming year. She is a stand out among stand outs. She serves up the quintessential performance of a cold-hearted bitch that is so likeable that I will patiently await the spin-off. I need to know where her Linda Drysdale is now. If anyone in the family was able to land on their feet it was Linda. We all know it.

Linda was the only Thrombey child who had the guts to make it without a handout. Her loser husband, played by the ever-handsomer Don Johnson, was practically useless. Her loser brother, played by the unusually diminutive Michael Shannon, was the same. Her sister in law, played by the illustrious Toni Collette, had her head so far up her own ass that even Gwyneth Paltrow would blush.

Poor Linda. She was surrounded by idiots. I hope she’s doing ok.

And now, we’re at the end. I’ve tried my best to avoid any horrible spoilers. But I’ve also taken a deep dive into SJW’s so I might’ve gotten off track along the way...

In any event, this movie is good. And I can’t wait to see it again.

[rainbowd4she]

Why am I obssessed with Magnus Bane and you should be too - Some thoughts about being bisexual in this strange, strange world

Sexuality has always been an issue in my life. It doesn’t seem like it today, because I do my best to act as if I had totally embrace who I am, but it was never that simple. A few years ago, bisexuality wasn’t even a thing I knew about and when I say that, you have to understand that I was already acting as a bisexual at the time and not so young anymore. But I come from a world where you don’t talk about sex, relationships or love. I never had “the talk” with my parents, all I ever knew about sex, I learned on TV or at school. My parents never supported me when a boy broke my heart, because it would happen again and it wasn’t a big deal. So, of course, I never told them that if I was so sad or weird, or if I didn't have any friends at school, it was because I was afraid of the way I felt about my girl friends. The first time I accepted my feelings for a girl, I was already nineteen, actually. But still, I knew I was different way longer before that, back in middle school when all the girls would spend hours talking about the boys and all I wanted was to spend my time with some girl I liked to call my best friend. The only other different kid I knew for almost fifteen years was a boy in middle school who liked to wear dresses and whom others kids would hit almost everyday for it. I don’t even remember his name, because I spend so much time acting like I didn’t see him. 

Today, I have no problem in saying I’m bisexual. All my friends are very accepting of this, my mom never says a word when I talk about it in front of her, my husband supports me in my fight for bisexual rights. Everything seems good. Except that, when I start talking about the fact that bisexuals need more recognition, most of those accepting people are taken aback. To them, “it’s 2019, no one cares about other people’s sexuality and those who do care are morons”. I love my friends for that, for being really open-minded and not treating people differently because of who they are, who they love or how they look like. Some would say they are really naive to think that way and they would be right. Because the world isn’t like they think it is.

I remember when I was sixteen and I met my first serious boyfriend. He was great and he was always more than happy when I was a little too drunk and kissed a girl in front of him. He was the typical straight guy who thought he could have sex with two girls if his girlfriend was so open. Then we broke up for a few months, I dated a girl for the first time in that period and when we got back together, we’d have huge fights anytime I’d approach a girl. It wasn’t fun and exciting anymore. It was a problem because I could have had sex with the girl without him if I ever wanted to. We broke up for good after a three-years relationship because of it, because he couldn’t accept the fact that I liked girls but I loved him only. Because of him, because of the way he felt when I was spending time with a girl, I wondered if I was really honest with myself. I wondered if, maybe, I was just gay and I wouldn’t accept it. I wasn’t. I’m not. 

But this proves that bisexuals aren’t “no big deal”. They are transparent. I’m 26 now, and my sexuality is sometimes still an issue. I started volunteering for the LGBTQA+ center of my city this year and it was as great as it was awful. I met wonderful people and most of them don’t even know I’m bi or married to a guy. When I talked with some of them, they just assumed I was married to a girl and I didn’t say otherwise. Some called me a “sympathisant” when I said I wasn’t a lesbian. Some would be really awful with bisexuals in front of me, because they didn’t know about me. I like them all, but they think people like me have no business at the association, even though the “B” in “LGBTQA+” is for Bisexuals… The worst part is that, for some people I met in the past, the simple fact that I’m married to a guy is proof that I’m kinda “cured” of my attraction to girls. This is really stupid, but something I have to live with everyday. 

When I first met Magnus Bane, I was already 23 and in a three-years relationship with my husband. This is going to sound crazy but it was the first time in my life that I heard of a bisexual character in a successful teen novel. And Magnus was… He was that guy who would wear make-up for the exact same reason I do : to hide the scars on his soul, to tell the world “I’m great and I’m happy and everything is fine”. He was that guy who was so sassy and funny and a little effeminate maybe, but so powerful that no one would mess with him. He was awesome. He could wear make-up and kicked ass, he could love a boy and assumed that he loved a girl before and every other character would respect him, loved him, cared for him. He was the best and I wish I would have known him when I was a teenager. Because he was all I’ve ever wanted to be : a kind, loving and badass bisexual person. I feel more connected to Alec because we have the same kind of personality, the older sibling who has to be the best kind, but Magnus is the one I love the most. He is a good character, a great example for young readers and an awesome representation for bisexuals. Growing up, I knew no one like him in the books I loved. Harry Potter was my favorite, but when I learned that Dumbledore was gay, it wasn’t as great : it didn’t really show in the books and well… He was gay, I’m not. 

I know there is a lot of bi characters in other books. But, when you’re twelve, you don’t really read those books and most young adult novels with important LGBTQA+ characters are for LGBTQA+ readers. Your mom won’t pick up a book with a gay boy as the hero if you’re not her gay son. And I’m pretty sure I’m not the only bi girl who was still questioning her sexuality at twelve. It would have been so great if one of my favorite books had a bi character. I wouldn’t have felt so alone growing up. My highschool best friend is today in a serious relationship with another girl. Back in highschool, she would tell me everything, but she never told me she liked girls too. Actually, she even spent a lot of her time acting as if she was madly in love with some asshole of our class. Maybe she really was, I don’t know. I lied too and never told her I was in love with her. Because we lived in a straight world, watching straight people being straight. I met a gay person for the first time at sixteen. This is crazy. I knew they existed, but not in my life and I was so scared to be gay too because of this, because I had no one to understand what it would be. So I pretend I like that guy or that one. Sometimes, I really did. Most of the time, I didn’t. It was really painful and I grew up self-conscious and ashamed of myself, of what I wanted and what I felt. 

Now I look like some obsessed fangirl when it comes to Magnus Bane, even though I’m an adult and I have a lot more in my mind that some good-looking actor on TV. Some gay guys may even think I’m that weird straight girl who fantasises about gay men having sex - wich I’m not, FYI, sex is still a complex subject for me and I can’t tell I like thinking about Malec in a bed. But I don’t care because, really, Magnus is the best thing that ever happened to me. Ok, maybe my husband is, so Magnus comes second. But still. He is what I needed to become myself, ten years ago. He happened too late for me, but he did and I’m kinda happy that he exists in pop culture for others kids who could need the best bi guy in the world to feel better. I hope they know about him and I hope that, in the future, there will be much more Magnus-like characters in books, so young LGBTQA+ never feel alone and straight kids never think there is no greatness in difference. As in my favorite childhood book, I grew up thinking same-sex attraction was something you had to hide for the most part, until you needed to talk about it on twitter. But being bisexual is more like Magnus is : awesome and colorful. It’s a chance, a power, it’s great and not some invisible thing you hide in the shadows. Being yourself should never be something transparent. Magnus taught me that. He’s bi, yes, but he’s so much more than that, too. He exists and shines outside his relationship with Alec. He is human and kind and open-minded. He has scars, fears, he’s been hurt in the past and sometimes he makes mistakes. But he stays true to himself, always, as we should all do. So yeah, Magnus Bane is a young adult novel’s character and he’s my model in life. Deal with it !

[asterdust]

13:43:40

i'm a firm believer that we don't learn everything at school. and school, or college for that matter, was the reason why i wanted to [redacted], years ago. it gradually lessened, but it's still here.

i used to be a really really good student in high school. all i did was study and answer my homeworks. it made my parents happy. made them very proud when i even got awards for it. they never interfered with my studies and trusted me that i could do it on my own. i just had to bring home medals and gave them 100s.

mom would accept if i got a low grade if i actually deserved it. but she once protested in grade school when i got a 79 because that awful teacher said i didn't pass any projects. but i did. she changed my final grade. mom was happy.

but i was really pissed off with the system treating as if the school was a motherfucking hunger games arena.

i love learning. i hate being treated like a gladiator.

college was like that. it was hell. and the only thing that helped me survive it were my friends, my will to write, and my fandoms. don't say being a fangirl is a complete waste of time, because i'm telling you, i'd be six feet underground by now.

my tuition fee didn't cost much compared to other universities'. but it did cost my mental health to get worse so i guess it's a win-win situation.

i was happy when we actually got a professor who actually teaches. but i just lost interest in school when i reached junior year, even if the professor was good. i skipped class one time and it made me feel even worse. but i just couldn't fucking go to class. during breaks, i would go out alone and sat on a bench pretending i was reading something just to get away with people.

getting up was the hardest thing i'd ever done.

all because i wanted to write, but i couldn't. i really couldn't.

i spent so many days and nights thinking about what's going to happen to me outside the university. will i... become a corporate slave? and forget about the stories inside my head? i wanted to get out of school so bad but i also didn't want to.

stuck. that's the right term for it.

(if it weren't for bts, if it weren't for bts...)

i asked myself if all the hardships of being a writer was something i would want to endure and i said, yes. because i knew everything in this world is hard, but you have the option to choose which path you want to walk on.

figuring that out was too late though. i got swallowed by self-pity and i felt (feel) so empty. not being able to write made me feel more anxious. and i didn't trust myself anymore. i don't.

i realized that i was too vulnerable to any difficult situations because i never learned how to speak up. i was always being told to supress my emotions.

("stop crying! stop crying! i'm just telling you that—")

do you know where does suppressing your emotions lead to? i hope you do.

right now, i'm just angry. i don't know how to show how mad i am because i'm afraid that people will ask. and people will criticize me for it. i used to let the rage out.

("your kid was posting a lot of despicable things on her social media account! she's cussing, too!")

i was supposed to let myself feel but i got used to hiding behind the screen. or pages of a book.

there was always one question in my mind and that is, why are adults so fucking obsessed with my future?

now i'm one. and i don't want to become like them. i like telling kids that they can be whoever, whatever they want. i hope it's still the same, even after ten years. i hope i won't hate too much.

[tomhtrash-blog]

Wrong Number(Tom Hiddleston): August Year One

You can find this on Archive, I’m just posting it here as well. 

Series Masterlist

20 August

Unknown number 9:26 : Hey, Benny! Just checking to see if this is actually your new number, I’m not quite sure I heard you correctly when you told me -Tom  

Unknown number 9:32: I’m afraid you have the wrong number, Tom. No Benny here, just little old me.

Tom 9:33: My apologies, I hope this wasn’t too much of a bother.

Unknown number 9:35: No harm done, don’t worry about it. Honestly receiving a notification brought a smile to my face.

Tom 9:36: Well I am glad I could make you smile, but may I ask why a simple notification was able to?

Unknown number 9:36: In my life there really aren’t a lot of things that bring a smile to my face, so I try to enjoy the little things

Tom 9:37: Everyone deserves things to smile about, and I’ll bet that there are loads of things in your life to smile about.

Unknown number 9:42: You’re only saying that because you don’t know me

Tom 9:45: Then let’s change that, tell me a little about yourself.

Unknown number 9:47: Hmmm…. How about for everything about myself that I tell you, you in turn tell me something about you?

Tom 9:48: That sounds like a plan, let’s start with your name

Unknown number 9:48: Sarah. Now, seeing that I already know your name Tom, how old are you? I’m 22.

Tom 9:49: You’re making me feel old, Sarah, I’m 36. Tell me something about you that not many people know

Sarah 9:52: Ooh, that’s a tough one. Alright, but it’s kind of embarrassing, so promise me you won’t judge me?

Tom 9:54: I promise, and I’ll even share something equally embarrassing to even things out

Sarah 9:54: *deep breath* *sigh* Okay. A few years ago, a friend and I went to see a movie, and on our walk home we ran into one of the actors, only to completely and unrecoverably ruin my only chance at a first impression. We were walking around a corner as I was loudly fangirling over one of the actors, saying how I wanted to jump his bones and things like that, and I walked right into the said actor. With my dumb luck, it happened to be one of the few times when he was actually in London.

Tom 9:56: You live in London? Or were you just visiting?

Sarah 10:03: I live in London, have since I was sixteen. Where are you from?

Tom 10:16: Lived here my entire life, darling. Grew up just shy of the city, may I ask where you lived before London?

Sarah 10:17 : Iowa, midwestern United States. The weather there was insane, we’d have negative forties in the winter to over one hundred every summer. We once had snow in September and that very next January we had days in the upper seventies. The state is pretty much known for corn and hogs, and we have the second largest state fair in the states, the fair is known for fried food on a stick. Iowa is weird.

Tom 10:18: Sounds like it, but it sounds like a blast. May I ask why you left such an interesting place like that?

Sarah 10:21: When I was fifteen my parents divorced, and they wanted me to pick sides. It was either live with mum in Montana or dad in Iowa, so I decided neither. I stayed with a friend until I had enough money saved up to by a ticket to London so I could live with my aunt and uncle.

Tom 10:25: That must have been difficult, I’m terribly sorry. My parents divorced when I was young as well, and it was immensely hard on me. What made you decide to live with your aunt and uncle? I hope you don’t mind my asking.

Sarah 10:27: I’m sorry to hear about your parents, and of course I don’t mind you asking. My aunt had always been so supportive of me and my interest in writing, and my uncle is the reason I am the musician I am today, without them I wouldn’t be me.

Tom 10:29: You’re a musician? That’s wonderful, what do you play?

Sarah 10:30: I play quite a lot of instruments, actually. Ukulele, piano, saxophone, bass guitar, guitar, and drums. I also sing and I’ve recently been writing my own music.

Tom 10:31: That’s amazing, darling! You seem like a very interesting young lady, Sarah. I’m quite glad I texted you by accident. This is turning out to be a much more interesting night than I originally intended.

Sarah 10:32: I am as well, although I wish you would tell me more about yourself, I’ve been talking about me for almost an hour.

Tom 10:34: What would you like to know darling?  

Sarah 10:35: I have an idea. Let’s keep this as anonymous as we can, not share anything that could be used to find out who the other is.

Tom 10:35: That sounds like something I can do, but may I ask why?

Sarah 10:35: Keep a little mystery between us. A friendship based solely on personality instead of things like looks, place of business, education, or wealth.

Tom 10:36: That’s a lovely idea, darling. Now, what would you like to know about me?

Sarah 10:38: How about we just ask simple questions back and forth, one of us will ask a question and provide an answer and the other will do the same and so on?

Tom 10:39: Wonderful idea, Sarah. Ask away, darling.

Sarah 10:40: Shag/marry/kill celebrity edition

Tom 10:42 : Really, that’s your first question? You are quite an interesting, and funny, character, Sarah. I guess I’d shag Scarlett Johansson, marry Elizabeth Olsen, and kill Taylor Swift. What about you, darling?

Sarah 10:45: Shag Declan Donnelly, marry Tom Hiddleston(with lots of shagging), and kill Angelina Jolie

Tom 10:48: “Lots of shagging”? Looks like Sarah has a bit of a celebrity crush.

Sarah 10:53: Everyone has a celebrity crush, it’s as simple as that. You must have one, so spill; who is it?

Tom 10:56: You already asked your question, now it’s my turn. Favorite movie?

Sarah 10:57: That’s a bit of a tough one. I’d have to say either I Saw The Light or A Hard Day’s Night. You?

Tom 11:04: I Saw The Light? Not many people enjoyed that movie, or even know of it, I must say I’m impressed, Sarah. Now, for my favorite movie I’m going to say The Jungle Book, original animated.

Sarah 11:05: I have actually never watched that before

Tom 11:05: HOW HAVE YOU NEVER WATCHED THE JUNGLE BOOK?

Tom 11:05: IT IS SO AMAZING SARAH

Tom 11:05: YOU HAVE TO WATCH IT

Sarah 11:06: You make me smile, Tom. I’ll make sure I watch it sometime soon, I promise. I’m afraid this is where our conversation ends, I have to be somewhere early in the morning and I do not function well without my eight hours, so I’m going to go to sleep. I’ve had a wonderful time talking to you tonight, Tom, I hope we can talk more in the future. Goodnight.

Tom 11:08: Goodnight, darling Sarah. I’ve had a wonderful time talking to you as well, and I do not see how it will be possible for me to go without messaging you again, so do expect a text from me tomorrow morning. ;)

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

21 August

Tom 5:37: Good morning, Sarah. I’m guessing you are still asleep, but I wanted to bid you a good day before I went on my run.

Sarah 7:18: My lord, you get up early. Are you always up before six A.M?

Tom 7:20: Not always, on weekends I usually sleep in until around seven or so. Did you sleep well?

Sarah 7:31: You call seven in the morning ‘sleeping in’? You aren’t human, Tom. Yes, I slept fairly well, I hardly tossed or turned all night.

Tom 7:32: Yes, seven in the morning for me is most definitely sleeping in, my dear. I’m glad you slept well, so did I. If I am not human, then what am I?

Sarah 7:33: I’m not sure, but you certainly aren’t of this realm. Maybe you’re from Álfheimr.

Tom 7:33: Álfheimr? I must say, Sarah, I am insulted. Are you accusing me of being a Light Elf?

Sarah 7:35: I might be. >:)

Tom 7:35: How dare you! If I am from any of the Nine Realms, I would be from Jötunheimr.

Sarah 7:37: Ah, so you’re a giant, are you?

Tom 7:38: I might be, and what realm are you from, fair maiden?

Sarah 7:42: I am no simple maiden, for I am of Vanaheimr.

Tom 7:42: A master of sorcery, are you? Or are you more inclined to the knowledge of the future?

Sarah 7:43: Do you know nothing about the tales of Vanaheimr? Vanaheimr is home of an ancient branch of gods, but that does not mean each resident is such.

Tom 7:44: I’m impressed, Sarah. How do you know so much about norse mythology?

Sarah 7:46: I’m obsessed with it, honestly. I’ve been studying it since I can remember, I fell in love with the stories of the gods of Asgard, and then when Thor came out, I was even more in love with the lore. I loved the tale “The Kidnapping of Idun”, his life is threatened unless he hands Idun over to Thiazi, only to have his life threatened by the other gods unless he returns her to Asgard. I always pictured Loki as a handsome man, tall and lanky with long black hair, and Tom Hiddleston portrayed him better than I thought possible. I still shake my head and sigh at the inaccuracies of the mythology in the movies, but they are definitely some of my favorite movies.

Tom 7:49: Wow, you really know your mythology. I would love to hear more.

Sarah 7:54: And I’d love to tell more, but I’m afraid I have to go, my class will be starting any minute. I loved chatting with you this morning, and I hope to chat with you again as soon as I can.

Tom 7:55: I’ve enjoyed chatting with you as well, darling. Have fun in class, study hard and pay attention, I hope to talk to you after. Goodbye for now, Sarah.

Sarah 7:56: Bye for now, Tom.

***********

Sarah 11:32: Out of class now, thankfully.

Tom 11:37: Thankfully? Is something the matter?

Sarah 11:39: I love my studies, but a few of my peers make me regret pursuing my musical education.

Tom 11:40: What happened, darling?

Sarah 11:42: A few men in the class are a close group of friends, always with each other and always joking, but one of them has a bit of an infatuation with me. Everyday he flirts with me every chance he has, he makes passes at least ten times a lecture, it seems as though “no” isn’t in his vocabulary. Today his friends decided to “help him get some ass”, and cornered me after the lesson ended.

Tom 11:44: I am terribly sorry, Sarah. Did they hurt you?

Sarah 11:44: No, they’re just idiotic boys. And besides, I can hold my own, they wouldn’t get the best of me in a situation like that.

Tom 11:45: Well, of course you can. I expect no less from a maiden from Vanaheimr.

Sarah 11:46: You make me smile, Tom.

Tom 11:47: Then my mission is complete, darling.

[happenstanced]

Ten Shipping Questions

tagged by @withallthingslove (sorry it took me so damned long to write)

Ultimate otp: While I do adore Mulder/Scully (The X-Files), I’d have to say that my end-all-be-all is Tony/Pepper (MCU). I’ve been shipping them for about 7 years now and still fangirl just as easily as I did years ago. Ask my friends, I cried a little when it was revealed in Civil War that they’d taken a break and when they get engaged at the end of SpiderMan: Homecoming, I freaked out so hard that I kicked the woman in the chair in front of me on accident and then my body went numb from shock. 

Ship you’ll always love: Since I couldn’t give Mulder/Scully the reining OTP title, this is how I’ll categorize them. I don’t see the day where I won’t ship them. They prove that opposites can make a successful couple and all they truly need in common is their love and trust in one another.

Current obsession: Recently I fell back down my childhood movies hole and so I was reminded of my love for Kirstie Alley and John Travolta’s characters (Mollie and James Ubriacco) in the Look Who’s Talking trilogy!

Ship you never thought you’d like: Olivia/Fitz just because of the moral dilemmas that surround this couple. I’m very against cheating but I could almost overlook what these two did due to the circumstances that they dealt with, such as Fitz and Mellie marrying for political reasons and not divorcing due to those. No it wasn’t right to sneak around and cheat, but at the same time it’s not right to stay in a loveless marriage.

Ship you liked but don’t anymore: Serena/Dan (Gossip Girl) was one of my favorite couples on Gossip Girl when I first watched it, though I liked Lily/Rufus the most. Once I rewatched some of the episodes about a year later, I realized how shitty they were and even though I really didn’t like Serena, she didn’t deserve the trash that is Dan Humphrey.

Ship that should be canon: I personally always liked Joey and Phoebe. Their friendship was a really special bond but they had such good chemistry and clearly meshed well. I don’t know if it would’ve been end game, but I think they would’ve been a good pair if not for a bit of time.

Canon ship you hate: Ted and Robin from How I Met Your Mother. Ted sucks and Robin deserved better (aka Barney before the writers reversed 9 YEARS OF CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT). The end.

Pairs I’ve been shipping for years: Luke/Lorelai (Gilmore Girls), Will/Emma (Glee), Fran/Max (The Nanny), Tim/Jill (Home Improvement) and Monica/Chandler are all special to me. I grew up watching these shows and couples. 

Ship everyone loves but you don’t: There are a lot of Tony/Steve shippers in the MCU and I never found them to be ship-worthy. Now Steve/Bucky I could totally get behind.

Fav rare pair: Sam/Diane (Cheers) made for a very unlikely couple that could be volatile at times but loving at others. I don’t normally enjoy couples that continue the will-they-won’t-they trope once they’re together, but there was something about these two that made you hope they’d figure it out and end up together.

*Honorable Mentions: Basically the remainder of my favorite couples that I didn’t categorize above: Han/Leia (Star Wars), Meredith/Derek (Grey’s Anatomy), Bob/Helen (The Incredibles), Jim/Pam (The Office) and Robin/Barney (How I Met Your Mother). I have even more ships (shocker, right?) but I’ll spare everyone!

tagging: literally anyone who is trash like me ships as hard as me 🖤

[rina-rambles]

Hold On To That Feeling

Daydreaming and feeling overwhelming surges of inspiration is normal for me when I’m separated from the means to write (in other words, my laptop) for any extended period of time. I admit that very few times in my life have been so hugely joyous that a certain urgency to capture it in words lasts past the event. Some people have the gift of being motivational rather than nagging and I fully believe that it is the seven-hour car ride next to Sam and my number one baby that I owe this determination to not procrastinate anymore to.

The happiest and saddest experiences are either the easiest or hardest to put into words. In my grief for Max in 2015, I tried desperately to put into words the sudden sense of mortality I felt, being able to remember him as a little pup as if it were yesterday. But unlike my externally forced graduation speech back in 2010, which told as neutrally as possible of my hellish high school years, I couldn’t find the words for my sweet boy. The ever-expanding graveyard is since that summer where I find my ultimate peace and maybe that’s all I can ever say about it.

Maybe because I’ve admired and looked up to One Tree Hill actress and my idol Shantel Vansanten for so many years now, but I finally understand why she says “I look for inspiration in everything around me.” There was a time when I used to wait for that surge of urgency to write, but now many writing courses and pep talks later I’ve realized that it takes as much determination and focus as it does genuine inspiration to be productive. Every time I have heart-to-heart talks with Sam, I come away feeling more talented and capable for it so I owe it to her and myself to capture all the moments that it brings me joy to think about.

After the family vacation through Bruges in Belgium, the French war memorials and last but far from least Watford’s Warner Bros Studios three years ago, I always regretted not pushing through the procrastination to write about how much lasting joy I gained from October 10 2014. Naturally, it was my psychologist who helped me make use of that day of bliss at every turn, by using the happiness of the memory to put me back in a good headspace during stressful and less joyous times. Because I’ve figured out the key to making memories long-lasting for me personally, it is and always has been music. The more Indian weddings I attend the more certain I am that any Indian function my possible future wedding may have will be a sangeet only. I have a carefully chosen anti-anxiety playlist of positive musical associations and have to give even my least favourite One Tree Hill character, Peyton Sawyer, credit for one truth: 

But I digress, being a huge fan of John Green’s The Fault In Our Stars after the film adaptation released in summer 2014, come the sightseeing in Belgium that October it was the soundtrack’s peppy track Boom Clap I tuned into as we walked the quaint streets of Bruge. The film’s love story took place in Amsterdam before terminal cancer turned it tragic and hearing that song on a tourist boat ride in Belgium felt close enough to the movie magic to be a joy to recall. 

Seeing the war memorials on the next part of the trip it was my Dad’s excitement and the sheer scale of historical melancholy that made it unforgettable, being there to witness the 100th anniversary of WW1 was obviously an immense and sobering experience. But all that took place before one of the happiest days of my life, the one I’m sure I would think back on if J.K Rowling’s Patronus Charm existed in real life. In a way, I understand how she made the joy-sucking Dementors a metaphor for her own depression because that single day has had the strength to carry me through hard times ever since.

Harry Potter was what turned me into what I define myself as today: a fangirl. The fascinating Marauder era still holds a very special place in a heart no longer seventeen but probably happier than nearly a decade ago. It makes me feel old to think that the first Potter film adaptation came out sixteen years ago, 2001 was incidentally the same year to give the world Karan Johar’s Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham, which initiated my ten-year obsession with SRK.

Coming back to the Watford experience, I can safely say it was life-changing: Between Tom Felton’s humorous tour guide recorded narration, the animatronic Buckbeak that actually bowed and blinked and my first taste of Butterbeer, I was floored long before the most exhilarating and then emotional parts of the day. The simulated broom ride which thanks to the souvenir videos and photograph reminds me more than anything else how happy that day was, is still something I just have to watch to feel intense surrealism to this day. But my favourite photograph that day is of me posing behind the Privet Drive sign. It’s hilarious to think that on the set the awful Dursley’s home exterior is right next to the ruin of Lily and James Potter’s house.

Already soaring on a wave of bliss that had begun with the HP film scores blasting all the way to the parking lot, standing in front of that scorched wall is where I got really emotional because somehow the couple who are dead before the series even begins have always meant the most to me. Yes walking through Diagon Alley’s set with the incredible detail on all sides I genuinely felt like Harry in wishing I had about a hundred eyes at once. But somehow it was still that ruined Potter cottage that I remember responding to now; the fictional sacrifice for their baby’s life as stirring and inspiring as anything else that trip.

When I was sixteen I once had a crush on a boy just because he resembled the fifteen-year-old James Potter from the Order Of The Phoenix film adaptation, incidentally my last non-celebrity / fictional crush to date.

Needless to say, that went nowhere and Harry Potter has stayed an important happy place for me longer than anyone in school ever did. There might still be times when the high school years negatively affect how I feel about myself but those days are few and far between.

Luckily for me, it’s a fact that time heals all wounds and someday only those powerful happy memories will remain. As Albus Dumbledore wisely said after all...

Even as a writer, with a craft as creative and yet honed by habit as many others, the end result of a piece like this isn’t always in sight from the beginning. There’s always the fine line of discussing a work in progress with my cheerleading family and figuring out on my own what feels right. I’ve had all sorts of advice; to combine experiences or don’t, or to be honest and heartfelt but draw the line somewhere. But at the end of the day, I know that the only way to get the words out is to find my own flow and go with it. All the song lyrics and Disney mottos about following your heart have got to come from a place of some kind of experience I suppose, so that’s what I decide to do with every word.

The theme of this article is holding on to joy and describing some hugely happy moments in my recent past would not be complete without the last week’s trip to Kottayam in Kerala. Some say this past week, with a royal Indian wedding and such a fabulous vacation with old friends deserves its own article and maybe someday it will get it. After all it took three years to pay tribute to the Potter joy as this article does.

But stand-alone tribute or not, the vacation after the Scindia wedding deserves a very heartfelt mention for inspiring me to write again in the first place with the love from old friends and simply breath-taking experiences. In a way, it does tie into the whole filmy Potter experience because Chacko Uncle shared his jaw-dropping world so modestly with us. How often does the average person get to sneak onto an active TV set and witness a girl prance onto the stage to an iconic SRK song? 

For almost a decade my love of Bollywood became a way to connect with my roots from abroad and now it is always being in India that finds some way or other to remind me how much I will always admire King Khan. Granted there’s a huge nostalgia factor now but that song choice and moment in a little corner of that studio, trying to sneak a peek without tripping over the wires or squealing out loud was something I won’t forget in a hurry.

Over the next two days, the thrills just kept on coming, whether it was the epic serenades of our very own crooner Charles (the man stole my heart with Kuch Kuch Hota Hai and kept it awed with a freaking Swiss German number) or getting to feel like a film star speeding along the backwaters, it was definitely like the Warner Studios tour in that I wanted to drink in all the sights and hold on to how I felt in the moment.

I’m not normally particularly keen on selfies, but with the enforced dressing up for the wedding before the Kottayam vacation, maybe the habit of sharing spilled over to that part of the holiday. Cruising along the backwaters I felt able to define wind-swept hair quite literally and even the slight motion sickness became easy to ignore with the sun kissing my exposed skin and finally getting to put my prescription sunglasses to good use. The picturesque backdrops helped me to feel beautiful and for that, I am more thankful than anything. Here’s hoping ten years don’t go by until the next reunion, visits to the south are as much a fascinating window into Mom and Dad’s past as anything else.

As my former obsession show used to say “by its very definition, glee is about opening yourself up to joy” and with experiences like these under my belt I might yet learn to do just that more often. 

Despite the way it crashed and burned, Glee did teach me to never stop believing and I like to think I’m one step closer to that faith with the power of all these good experiences to guide me. One Tree Hill creator Mark Schwahn made the idea of “someday” a trademark of many couples he wrote and I think my someday of just feeling good might be a lot closer these days. To end on one final OTH quote because it has words for everything 

I’ve come to realize that I don’t have to dismiss the bad things in my past in order to find happiness, but I feel like my perspective on the years of teenage suffering has changed and that, for now, is good enough.

[idealisticrealism]

So, Prison Break will be back in a matter of hours.

And to a lot of you, that may mean nothing. 

But it means a hell of a lot to me.

Prison Break first aired when I was fourteen. I don’t remember much about the night itself, but what I do remember is kicking up a real fuss when my brothers outvoted me on the choice of programming, the two of them commandeering the TV remote and forcing me to watch the pilot of this new prison show instead of the episode of House that I had apparently very much wanted to watch at the time. After that night, though, House certainly never took precedence in my schedule ever again, because I had fallen hard for Prison Break in a way that I never had with a show before (or since), my soul already eagerly sold to it before the credits were even rolling on the first episode. 

For the next four years of my life, it was my obsession, my joy, my greatest love, the one thing I could talk endlessly about (particularly any part related to MiSa, my OTP of all OTPs), and the mere thought of which would always make me happy. It led me to my first fan forum, to amazing friends (who I am still in touch with to this day), and also brought me into the world of fanfiction, which in itself became (and remains) a hugely important part of my life. 

As it went on, the show not only taught me life lessons like sacrifice and making difficult decisions and taking responsibility for your actions; it also taught me about myself, and what I wanted and valued and believed. And, as with any show that truly pulls you in, the characters were always far more than just actors spouting lines-- they were like family to me, and I celebrated and struggled and grieved with them through four incredible and traumatising seasons. I genuinely cried more tears for them and their pain than I ever did over anything else in my own (obviously very fortunate and privileged) life. 

The same year that Prison Break ended, I graduated high school and was accepted into medical school, a career that I had chosen for several very good reasons, not the least of which was because my still-forming teenage self had looked at Dr Sara Tancredi and had seen exactly the kind of woman I wanted to grow up to be. About five years after that, I was freshly graduated as a doctor, and finally got the chance to meet Went, Dom, and Sarah at my first Comic Con, and was able to thank them in person for the beautiful thing that they had helped create, and which-- in Sarah’s case in particular, of course-- had helped to create me. 

Today, I’m exactly a month shy of my twenty-sixth birthday, and have been a doctor for almost two and a half years, having even worked briefly in the prison system during that time, among many other things. I may not have the posters hanging on my wall anymore, and the cardboard box full of memorabilia and carefully folded cranes might be tucked away in a closet out of sight, but even still, this show has never left me. It’s in the “Be the change you want to see in the world” ring that I’ve worn every day for the last nine years. It’s in the tiny origami flower that has been tattooed on the back of my left ear since I was nineteen. It’s in the crane that was tattooed on my left wrist two years ago in Chicago, with those same old forum friends beside me, all coming together for the first time in our ten-year friendship to visit the city and the prison that had been the setting for the story that had brought us into each other’s lives. But even more than the marks on my skin, its mark is still inside me, a permanent building block in the foundation of who I am. 

In the last eight years, there’s only one thing about this show that I’ve always regretted, one thing that I have literally wished (on shooting stars, four-leaf clovers, birthday cakes, 11:11, dandelions-- you name it, I’ve wished on it) that I could change. Of course, I know that happy endings don’t always exist; that reality is hard and cruel and whatever, so supposedly TV should be too. But that never stopped me from wishing that there could have been just one more happy ending out there to give to this story.

Then, about two years ago, something happened. Stars-- both astronomical and celebrity-- aligned. Whispers like ‘reboot’ and ‘season 5′ floated around, and then suddenly, startlingly, my dream had started looking like a possibility. A possibility that eventually turned into a miraculous definite, the confirmation followed by months of filming and promoting that I promptly did my very best to ignore or hide from, because I was convinced that if I thought about it too much-- let myself hope too much-- it would somehow all disappear again; would revert to being merely an elaborate fantasy that I’d concocted in my head, a silly fangirl’s headcanon to rectify her OTP’s heartbreak as well as her own.

But tonight, it’s all becoming real. Tonight, for the first time in eight years, I will turn on my TV and see my character-family again; will experience that old feeling afresh. And though there’s certainly always the chance that the new season will somehow be a disappointment, or will only add more pain, it’s a chance I’m so very willing to take.  

A chance that I’m so, so grateful even exists.

So, if you can, tune in tonight (9/8c on Fox). Even if you’ve never watched before, even if you think that frankly I’m probably just overhyping it and it’s actually nowhere near as great as I claim. Do it anyway, and show the network and showrunners that what they have done means something to the viewers out there-- to the people like me, who got far more from this show than just a fascinating story, who might have been a very different person today if they’d managed to wrestle the TV remote off of their brothers on that one night a dozen years ago. And who knows; a success for Prison Break now, like with The X-Files and Gilmore Girls before it, could mean reboots-- and therefore justice-- for even more beloved shows down the line, and even more opportunities for other fans to re-experience the things that helped to shape them into who they are.

And, well, this moment may have been eight long years in the making-- but whatever happens, it was worth it.

[92prince]

Concert Tickets

concert au based off an old gruvia prompt i wrote MANY MANY YEARS AGO LMAO, the erwin part partly based off of TheHeroineIsMe’s ff Honey and Stone. read it here! anyways, enjoy lolol

The fact that Petra Ral had started as a loyal fangirl didn’t mean being swept away in the bustling crowd of obnoxious other fangirls didn’t make the band leader notice her through the mass of people circling around them. When the handsome blonde man with piercing, diamond tinted eyes and perfectly broad shoulders glanced over her way, she’d screamed. Ever so hardly that she could pass out. And when he’d call her by the strawberry blonde shade of her hair accompanied by a charming smile, she’d died. “Honey coloured hair, get on the stage!” Was all it took for her to pace back and forth from her reality and have the fangirls around her glare into her bones, envy taking over them.

She had struggled pushing herself through the radius, but the pride in her never ceased. She was bound to be up o stage with the band she’d grown obsessed with, having her favourite member of the band call her out. Petra could die any second by then. Amber coloured eyes sparkled as she bit her lips in, restraining the urge to scream and collapse. It just had to be one of those happiest days of her life, and when Erwin Smith snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close, it became the happiest. Screams and cheers had been delivered from the crowd, mixed with cries of jealousy and just plain cheers. Really, some of these people just cheer at every single damn thing a band member does whilst they’re up on stage. Petra lifted a hand lowly before her shoulder and slightly waved when she’d spotted Erd, proudly smiling at her along with Gunter; and just a tad grumbled Auruo. It was either because of the displeasing sight (to him, of course) of Petra and the blonde band leader, or he had just bitten his tongue again. Maybe even both.

But Petra drew her attention away from the three of her friends as she realised where she was, again; on the holy stage with the godly band she’d been addicted to, with her favourite member’s hand hooked around her waist on a blessed Saturday night. And not in her dimmed, soft blue painted room, in front of her three years old Macbook Air and fangirling like an idiot. Those people she’d squeal to every night from behind the screen of her laptop were there with her, on the stage. “So, who brought you here tonight, honey?” Petra had internally squealed, but a wave of disappointment had slapped against her heart when she’d realised it was for the specific colour of her hair, and not the lovey-dovey nickname lovers would exchange. There was this thing about the remarkable colour of her hair that stands out so, so often in ways people couldn’t think possible - resulting amazing effects or just brutally opposing ones. And in this case, it’s the latter. She wouldn’t - couldn’t ever take the nickname ‘honey’ seriously anymore after the realisation.

“M-My friends. Erd, Auruo and Gunter.” She responded. The little compliments by the other members became inaudible muffled noises to her when Erwin began speaking into his microphone again. “What are you doing next Saturday?” He smiled. She died, for the millionth time that night.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

"Classes.” Was all she’d said. No lies hid behind the statement, but she’d score her way out of the damned paperworks if there were to be another concert held again in the little town.

The members on the stage laughed, Hanji’s being the loudest and the most obnoxious one yet; followed by the sea of people depraved by the stage. Boy, was Petra embarrassed. The veins on her neck grew red to the roots of her face, until she felt it bursting into fifty different directions that no one would be laughing anymore. What she hadn’t noticed was the bassist, on the other hand, a thin brow raised at the strawberry blondie. Unlike everyone else, he was amused; on how most girls that had the chance on going up on stage would literally squeal and tackle the members that they’d cry for the bodyguards, but this chick right here was completely calm, trailing and claiming that she’ll be in about campus next Saturday. Interesting.

“Well, skip it, honey - cause’ you’ve just won yourself a ticket to Wings of Freedom this Saturday!” Erwin spoke, cheers hung in the air again, louder and louder to the point Petra couldn’t register it into her earlobes anymore.

It’s all thanks to Erd that they’ve had gotten backstage passes, at the very last minute even. The strawberry blonde was still squealing no matter how many hours it had passed, and the only thing that had succeeded in shutting her up was when the call to the backstage had approved. She’d shrink in nervousness but gallop in excitement at the same time. Then there she was, finally seeing Erwin with her own pair of eyes, admiring him as if he was the only thing by then. He’d charmingly smile in return, towering over her and complimenting how sweet she was. It wasn’t until Erwin had asked, “What’s your name, honey?”

Petra slowly gaped her mouth open to utter the stone defined, Greece originated name of hers - until the deafening beeping of her phone interrupted those words that hadn’t even made it’s way out yet. In the speed of a heartbeat she’d fish her phone out, convincing Erwin it’ll be ‘just a second, yeah’ and ended up entirely shocked. She’d forget real life too much for the past hours of her day, that she hadn’t even realised it was twelve. That’s when nervousness took over her anatomy, she couldn’t move at all.

“Goddamn, Nifa, let me go to this one; please?” Petra begged the mistress of their house, little jumps by her feet as she inflicted impatience herself.

“I’m telling you, dear.” Nifa started. “I’m content with it, but it is not my position to let you leave the manor without your father’s approval.”

Petra rubbed her temples, frustrated. She knew she should’ve pleaded this sooner. “My father would never let me wander off to concerts, and you know that well. I’m only asking you to shush about it, for the literal sake of Pete!”

The middle aged woman huffed a sigh before leaning her waist against the counter of the newly wiped counter. “..I won’t be going against differ now, since you won’t even listen. But if you’re too willing.. Just get back here before 12. Or at least that’s the approximate time your father would come home on Fridays.”

“You’re seriously the best person ever. God bless you.” She’d smile uncontrollably whilst hugging the older woman for a split second before dashing out the door and running like a bitch on her last day on Earth.

Petra snapped. Without even realising, she’d half-screamed, making each pair of eyes dart towards her. “Fuck! It’s 12!”

She’d sprinted her way out of the backstage, a part of her guilty of leaving the place. Why did she need to be rushed on the day she’d been waiting for for so long? Moreover the day she didn’t even know would exist in this petty life of hers? Despite the sudden hurry, disappointment filled her lungs till’ she could hear the sound of her heart breaking. Not literally enough, but still. Tears filled by her eyes. She didn’t want to leave. And she didn’t even have the chance to claim the free ticket she’d been offered earlier on stage. Now, there’ll be no way in hell would she have the chance to see them again.

Knowing her father and how pissed out he’d be, in spiting the fact that she’d gone to a concert without his permission, slightly trespassing the A.M when even her curfew was at ten, she’ll be experiencing hell.

Petra felt a presence running after her, slowly catching up. But the chick wasn’t the high school’s top runner for nothing. She’d sprint down the pavement that the presence had lost sight of her as she fades away into the dark, foggy night. She’d spotted Gunter’s black Toyota parked by the side of the road and how the three dorks had fallen asleep when she’d reclaim backstage. Mercilessly, Petra pulled open the door of the passenger seat and slammed it close, startling the three of them awake as she yelled, “DRIVE!”

The presence stood there, heaving a pant. “..Where the hell?” He hadn’t even had the chance to ask for her name. Suddenly, he felt a hand lowered on his shoulder.

He turned around and met none other than his band mate, Levi - also known as the bassist. The shorter man raised a brow. “Is this Cinderella on purpose? Because I’ve..”

The next day had been depressing. At least she hadn’t gone through the inferno she’d been expecting throughout the pass-the-speed-limit drive from downtown back to her house. Turns out it was a Saturday where her father wouldn’t be home until 2, dumbass Nifa had mistaken the calendar again. But, that still didn’t change the fact that she won’t ever get the chance to show up next Saturday again, not ever. She couldn’t face Nifa in the eye anymore on that very Sunday morning, having mixed feelings about the maid over a silly little accident. If it wasn’t for her convincing, though, Petra wouldn’t have showed up feeling safe at the concert; heck, she doesn’t even know wether she’d show up if Nifa didn’t tell her to at least be back by 12. But the maid still messed up her destiny. Or not.

Pissed off, she’d left earlier than usual to her part-time shift in Coffee Beans somewhere not far from town. She’d driven her father’s old white Ford with Arctic Monkeys blasting through the radio, definitely not in the mood for Wings of Freedom tracks that would only remind her of the day before, making her go through a mental breakdown of tears disposal once again.

Shift had gone pretty well; bells chiming as customers exchange their ways in and out, muffled conversations that Petra just couldn’t give two shits about, clinking forks and laughs ringing her ears. The only thing that had kept her interested and awake by then was the amazing aroma of coffee beans and cinnamon buns hung in the air. That was, until, a short figure made it’s way into the café.

It approached the cashier and only then Petra could scan who it was. And instead of the regulars she’d expect showing up strangely and greet later on.. It was none other than the Levi Ackerman of Wings of Freedom.

She’d had her own world to fangirl by then, since none in the café had realised the appearance of this hot bassist, as they busy themselves into their stupid little conversations and totally miss the artist’s show up. Unplanned, winter grey eyes locked with Petra’s amber coloured orbs for a second that felt like a year - and Petra could witness Levi’s eyes widen for a split second before completely calming back to his own dull-but-somehow-still-sexy-as-hell eyes. She hadn’t even gotten ready to expect it coming out of his mouth. “Oh, it’s honey from last night’s concert. What a coincidence.”

Petra eyed Levi from top to bottom; he’d dressed casually, a plain black hoodie and tight grey jeans donning his legs, a pair of washed out sneakers and a torn bag hanging by his shoulders. No one in the streets could tell it was him unless they’d scan his face for a minute. Pretty impressive. “..!” Petra had internally freaked out and mentally fell off of the high stool she’d been sitting on as she realised how Levi had remembered her.

“Jeez, calm down.” Levi rolled his eyes, nearing the counter and Petra felt herself blushing all over again. Though the somewhat rude sight of Levi didn’t surprise her, the fandom knew well enough of his behaviours. He’d glanced over her name tag stuck onto her emerald coloured apron before looking her right in the eye, the corners of his lips smirking. “Guess the question’s answered now, huh, Petra,”

She internally screamed again. He had been listening to hers and Erwin’s conversation from last night. Truth be told, Levi Ackerman had never drift his gaze away from the strawberry blonde since the second she’d set foot onto the stage.

The smirk faded off. “You weren’t mute yesterday for all I’d know. Get me an iced coffee.” Levi scoffed, fishing his wallet out and flicking dollars from it. He passed the cash over to Petra (who was still sitting there looking high as fuck and questioning her own existence), whom had only noticed a concert ticket was stiff - handed together by Levi, along with the dollars he’d shallowed. Petra wanted to scream physically. ..Did he seriously save this for me? Hadn’t even been two complete minutes since Levi had walked into the café, and Petra was already on the verge of her seat.

“..You saved this?” Petra had finally uttered the word that had longed to be out. Slowly, she’d even forgotten he was one of the stars in her addictive fandom-ed band. Last night’s nervousness and excitement was still all over her, but somehow she’d feel a little calmer by that very second just being in front of the bassist of the band. Okay, maybe a lot calmer.

He didn’t respond for one second and immediately darted his eyes away. “..Tch, Thought I’d keep this for my stupid neighbour who’s a fan. Honestly didn’t expect to see exist in my life t’day. But yeah, you would’ve gotten one if you didn’t run off yesterday.”

She felt embarrassed over and over again. Slightly shaking her head, also thanking and insisting him to lend the ticket to his neighbour although she didn’t really mean handing it back, just a common gratitude. And when she knew it, it’s her turn to explain.

“I’ve.. kinda.. trespassed my curfew. My father would go ape shit every time I do it. I haven’t been more disappointed in my life, though, just skipping the backstage hour..”

Levi let out a low chuckle. “Eh, I see. Guess you’d still have your chance to show up next week, but don’t pull off a Cinderella and sprint down the pavement again.”

Petra softly laughed, and for an unverified reason, the nervousness in her lungs shrunk away to god knows where. Just talking to someone - Levi Ackerman the bassist, specifically - and having a casual conversation felt so great. “Yikes. I won’t do it again,” She continued laughing.

“I’ve still been wondering, though.” Levi suddenly spoke.

Petra stopped laughing and stared at him, an eyebrow raised. This time, curiosity ran through her guts. If it’s my name you’ve been wondering about, I’m pretty damn sure you’ve said it about a minute ago. “Mhm?”

Levi pulled a plastic from his backpack, the strawberry blonde cashier growing more and more curious as he zip the backpack again. And when Petra traced over the outline of the object wrapped in the white plastic bag, her face flushed deep red as she remembered something she’d thought she’d forgotten.

The raven haired man started. “Just who the hell wears glass slippers to a concert?”

[giddleford]

Tag Game! Yes, another one of these.

The title? Mine. Why there was no title for this game I will never know.

RULES: tag ten followers you want to know better!

I was tagged by the lovely @alpacasandravens​ 

TAGGING: Here’s the thing, I don’t really want to bother anyone with this so... Ahh, @iguesscj​ @a-million-chromatic-dreams​ @inspirationjs​ @mychemicalfandooms​ @geeksinhats​ and whoever feels like doing this.

NAME: Mari Hope (not really, but it is my chosen name so it has the same value as my real name)

STAR SIGN: Leo

HEIGHT: I know most of ya use feet so I’d say around 5′1 (155 cm) which is absolutely deppressing (but at least I’m taller than Jada Pinkett Smith and my mother so it’s not that bad)

WHAT’S YOUR MIDDLE NAME: Look, the multiple meanings of “middle name” has me boggled. I’m not going to even bother.

PUT YOUR ITUNES ON SHUFFLE. WHAT ARE THE FIRST 4 SONGS THAT POPPED UP?

Nicotine - Panic! at the Disco

Eye of the Tiger - Survivor

Troublemaker - Virtual Riot

Stronger - Kanye West 

(Damn, those really represent my musical taste)

GRAB THE BOOK NEAREST YOU AND TURN TO PAGE 23. WHAT’S LINE 17?

“Every year on Dudley’s birthday his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger bars or the cinema.”

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A POEM OR SONG WRITTEN ABOUT YOU?

No not really, which is a shame cause I’m song material XD jk

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU PLAYED AIR GUITAR?

Around four days ago.

WHO IS YOUR CELEBRITY CRUSH?

I don’t think I actually have a celebrity crush. I mean I do have actors I fangirl about but it’s because they are sooo good doing their job, not because I find them attractive or anything of the sorts. So the closest thing to a celebrity crush I have is my favorite actor, which is Peter Capaldi.

WHAT’S A SOUND YOU HATE + A SOUND YOU LOVE?

Hate- The crying of a child. The buzzing of a bug next to my ear (specially when I sleep). Any sound styrofoam makes.

Love- Laughter. The shuffling of cards. The rain.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS?

No, not really but I’m always open if I’m presented with tangible proof.

HOW ABOUT ALIENS?

Definitely, but I don’t think any contact has been made or will be made any time soon. But it’s always nice to hope.

DO YOU DRIVE?

Do karts count?

IF SO, HAVE YOU EVER CRASHED?

Nope.

WHAT WAS THE LAST BOOK YOU READ?

I haven’t read a book in ages, been too busy with fanfiction. But since I consider fanfiction books, Just One Look at You is the one I’m busy with.

DO YOU LIKE THE SMELL OF GASOLINE?

Not at all. It’s thick and no, I don’t like it.

WHAT WAS THE LAST MOVIE YOU SAW?

Mamma Mia! Here we go again. It’s wonderful, nearly made me cry.

WHAT’S THE WORST INJURY YOU’VE EVER HAD?

There’s only one that’s left a reasonable scar. I was little, around 8? Well anyhow, I was in the car with my family heading to the airport to leave my granny there and we had just reached the parking. Now, we had a new car, the Opel Zafira which for a small 8 year old was huge, and if I’m small now, imagine then. I stepped out of the car when suddenly, and I don’t know how, I knda flipped and hit my chin with the ground. I didn’t feel anything and I was kinda used to the accidental beatings my clumsy self caused so I continued like nothing happened. That’s when my parents looked at me, they were in shock because apparently my chin had been popped open. I got stiches after that and I still have the scar.

DO YOU HAVE ANY OBSESSIONS RIGHT NOW?

I have way too many obsessions, my blog is a great representation of that.

DO YOU TEND TO HOLD GRUDGES AGAINST PEOPLE WHO HAVE DONE YOU WRONG?

Oh not at all, not that there’s been many people who have done me wrong.

IN A RELATIONSHIP?

Was, and I don’t think I’ll want one in a long time, I’ve got enough with fanfiction.