#though i am glad to have three different languages to reference. had no idea there were so many subtle differences between vowels tbh

[italiantea]

my international school background is doing me no favors here my biology teacher was indian my geography teacher was scottish my business teacher was from turkey i have no idea how to pronounce things anymore. why are you asking me how to say cot. who the fuck uses a cot

[jamespotterthefirst]

All-Nighter (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.9K Warning: Language and alluded sexual situations Premise: He’d do anything for her, even fly across the country on moment’s notice. 

A/N: If Ethan had gone to Vegas to spend a full night with MC. Crack and fluff. Sorry! 

12:26 am

Ethan had never understood the appeal of Vegas. The city, crawling with gaudy exhibitionism, reckless gambling, and rowdy party-goers, had always seemed a tad tasteless to him. Even in his med school years when his cohort planned a trip to sin city, Ethan had preferred to find solace in an overpriced drink at a bar off the strip and not dancing against strangers in a stuffy nightclub. 

Now, he had been convinced (albeit too easily) to take a six hour flight to a city he would much rather avoid.

His phone pinged with a notification from her, reminding him of the adult rated texts that had inspired his impromptu trip. 

Miss you. Wish you could see me in this dress. 

Seconds after, a picture came in and Ethan almost dropped his phone on the concrete. 

And finally, she sent one final, maddening addendum: Or out of it. 

It was lucky for Ethan that he was already in the same city as her, one an elevator ride away from ripping that tempting thing off of her. 

I'm outside, he texted back. 

More than anything, he wanted to give in to the burning need to just have her in his arms.

------------------  

12:48 am

As Ethan waited outside the casino she mentioned in a previous text, however, the flashing neon lights making it almost difficult to distinguish that it was nighttime, he held a different doctor in his arms. A very drunk Dr. Lahela had haphazardly collided with him only seconds earlier, throwing an arm around him after recognition hit. Ethan was still unsure if the gesture was out of comradery or to maintain his balance. 

“Ramseyyyy,” he called out with a suave ease that was admirable in his current state. 

Before Ethan could answer, Varma and Sienna Trinh appeared at his side. The former looked just as intoxicated as Lahela, though she was doing a much better job at maintaining her balance and dignity. Sienna, however, looked sober, or sober enough to figure out why Ethan was there for she threw him a knowing smirk. 

“Dr. Ramsey,” she greeted casually over the noise of the busy boulevard. “I forgot Edenbrook sent you here because of our contract with Panacea.”

It was a feeble excuse to explain his presence to the other two. It didn't matter because neither of them was listening anyway. Ethan doubted they ever questioned why he was there in the first place. 

Lahela's arm gripped him tighter as he swayed. “Dr. Ramsey, you have to come with us to the Sugar Factory. They have this drink called the fish bowl. It's exactly what it sounds like except full of candy.”

It sounded like a drink straight out of his nightmare. 

“Lahela, tell me why—” 

To his horror, the young surgeon's face lit up as he started singing. “Ain't nothing but a heartache.”

“Tell me why,” an equally drunk passerby added. 

“Ain't nothing but a mistake,” Lahela continued as others laughed and joined in. By the time they were finished, all three residents laughed hysterically while Ethan remained unmoved, silently wishing he had stayed in the blissful quiet of his apartment in Boston. 

He was reminded of why he had left the comfort of his home to venture into the wild five minutes after the group had departed for the aforementioned Sugar Factory. His eyes found her as soon as she stepped out into the street, clad in the sinfully short dress from her picture. The effect it had on Ethan felt like a punch.

Lilac spotted him too, her face alight with a combination of surprise and unrestrained elation. Before either of them could stop what was about to happen, she rushed into his arms. On instinct, he lifted her off her feet, their lips meeting in a kiss charged with promise. 

“Hi,” she greeted breathlessly when he carefully set her down. 

“Hi,” he returned, sounding just as affected. 

“I had to come out here to make sure you were really here. I can't believe you actually came,” she all but exclaimed, voice laced with giddy happiness. It made his stomach leap pleasantly, inspiring a foolish grin he didn't care to fight back anymore. 

“Me neither,” he confessed. 

“Well, I'm glad you did. I like this spontaneous Ethan Ramsey who flies across the country on a whim.”

That admission sent a thrill through his body. He realized he'd do anything to see that winsome smile each time, even if it meant dropping everything and rushing to her side hundreds of miles away. 

------------------

1:32 am 

“Eight, six, seven,” Lilac was saying over the roar of the fountains and the Celine Dion song. “Five, three, oh, nine.”

She waited for a hint of recognition, but as 

she had suspected, the drunken frat boy did not understand the reference. Instead, he tapped the number into his phone and flashed her a sloppy smirk. “I'll call you later.”

Ethan appeared at her side after he was gone, shaking his head at her with a smirk. 

“Your drink, Jenny,” he said, offering her a cup that looked to be more ice than drink. 

Lilac laughed as she accepted it, her body gravitating to his side at once. A rush of dizzying joy almost overpowered her every time she realized she didn't have to fight that instinct here. 

“Funny. That's the name I gave him too,” she said taking a sip. “He was insistent and drunk beyond comprehension. I thought it'd be easier to give him a fake number.”

“You gave him a song,” Ethan commented with a laugh. A rare, taunting grin illuminated his face, rendering him the handsomest man she had ever seen. “And you could've just told him you have a boyfriend.”

She arched an intrigued eyebrow, already moving into his embrace. “I have a boyfriend, do I?” 

Ethan's free arm encircled her, casting a glow of warmth over her body. It could have been the small amount of alcohol in her system or this newfound energy that crackled between them, still fizzing with longing but considerably lighter than in the past months. 

He nodded in mock seriousness. 

“And is he the jealous type?” 

Ethan genuinely scoffed at that, his fingers aimlessly caressing her bare back. It made her skin blaze where he touched her. “Jealous of what? A sweaty frat boy crass enough to hit on a beautiful but evidently uninterested woman? Believe me, there's nothing to be jealous about.”

“Case in point,” she laughed, raising herself to kiss his nose.   

Ethan laughed too and took advantage of their sudden proximity to press his lips against hers, their kiss sweet and just as dizzying as the many desperate, passionate ones they had shared. When they parted, that fiery, striking gaze of his remained locked on hers, making her thighs quiver. 

The song in the background reached its final notes as the jets of water disappeared into the dark pool glittering in front of the lavish hotel. The crowd began to disperse but Ethan and Lilac remained on the sidewalk, basking in a content lull, his arm securely around her and her cheek pressed against his chest. She knew without asking that he was enjoying this small allowance of being a real couple just as much as she was. 

At last, her eyes fell on the replica of the Eiffel Tower across the street. In the span of a second, she wondered what it would be like to be in front of the real one, safely wrapped in Ethan's arms.  

“I wonder how it compares to the real one,” she wondered out loud. 

“I've never seen it but I'd wager it's not a true representation.” 

For some reason, she found that surprising. “You've never been to Paris?” 

“I've been for work but my time was spent doing just that. I didn't venture out much into the city to sightsee. To be honest, I didn't understand the appeal.” 

The pause that followed suggested he wanted to add more but he remained silent. When Lilac pulled back from his embrace to look at him, she found those piercing blue eyes studying her intently. 

“I know what we should do for that date you teased in your texts,” she said when she finally found the words. 

It was Ethan's turn to arch his brow at her in interest. “I thought this was our date?” 

“Yes, but we're in Vegas. There's so much to do at this hour. And besides, you promised me all night in one of your texts.”

The crooked smile he gave her along with the wicked glint in his eye should have been illegal. He leaned in and whispered darkly, “That's not what I meant.”

Five words and she was all over him, kissing him in ways that were inappropriate even for Vegas. They broke apart and Ethan looked at her expectantly. 

“So what's this idea for our date?” he prompted when Lilac merely stared at him, lips still burning from his kiss. 

“Oh, right. I was thinking since we were both two giant nerds who powered through med school and never traveled—”

At this, Ethan shook his head, amused. 

“—we could each pick something to do here in Vegas that feels like traveling to somewhere remote.”

“But instead we'll be in a loud casino, surrounded by obnoxious crowds and exposed to secondhand smoke?” 

Lilac rolled her eyes which made him laugh. 

“Fine, I'll do it. But you pick first.”

---------------

2:17 am

As they glided through the clear waters, Ethan had to admit he could see the appeal in the faux gondola ride. Even if it was romantic, the critical part of him dwelled on the fact that the canals of Venice did not smell strongly of chlorine. He almost voiced the cynical observation out loud, before he remembered this was her idea and the last thing he wanted was to offend her. Although, he was certain Lilac would only laugh and playfully shove him. 

But Lilac was not taunting him, which should have been his first indication that something was off. She wasn't even marveling at the painted ceiling of the casino or making snide comments about the high end shops at the edge of the water and the people who shopped there. Instead, she pressed firmly against his side, her nails digging into his shirt. 

“Are you okay?” he murmured. 

Lilac plastered on the weakest attempt at a smile. Ethan only waited until she dropped the act and said, “Is it weird that the water is freaking me out?” 

Ethan considered that. “Are you afraid of open water?” 

Lilac shook her head. “No, or I would have never suggested this. But once we got in and started moving, the water just looked terrifying?” 

Ethan gave her reassuring smile. “We can get off if you want.”

Again, she shook her head with a brave determination that made his stomach flutter. She was entirely too adorable, even without trying. 

“No, I'll be fine,” she said through a steadying breath. “I'll just refrain from looking at the creepy water. And I'll try not to think about what we'll do if this thing flips over.”

“Rookie, the water is three feet deep. If we capsize we can just...get up on our feet.”

Lilac's eyes moved to meet his at the words. They stared at each other in the golden glow of their surroundings, their expressions unreadable. The silent seconds stretched until they both dissolved into hearty and borderline hysterical laughter. 

Ethan tried his best to sober up first, but when he was close to regaining his composure, he would meet her eye and then they'd both continue to laugh relentlessly. He was aware that they were drawing curious looks from the people observing from the bridges. Even the gondolier cast them a questioning look but said nothing. 

Ethan didn't care. 

It was the happiest he had felt in weeks, amidst everything that had happened. 

They finally sobered and Lilac sighed, much more at ease than before. When she settled against Ethan, it was with her hand softly pressed against his chest, directly over the heartbeat that pounded fiercely for her. 

------------

3:31 am

The plan had been to go dancing at the Egyptian themed casino, much to her companion's dismay. In the end, she won against his protest and Lilac was feeling particularly proud of herself for talking Ethan Ramsey into going to a nightclub. Then again, she hadn't missed how his eyes occasionally traveled along the expanse of her plunging neckline or how his fingers trailed along her exposed back whenever he held her. A lot of the credit was owed to the dress. 

Which is probably why they never made it to the nightclub. Instead, they hastily detoured to the penthouse suite the leeches at Panacea paid for, their hands and lips on one another for the majority of the journey there. 

Thirty minutes after ensuring they were truly alone, the miraculous dress lay pooled on her bedroom floor, completely forgotten. Meanwhile, Ethan moved against her in ways that made her scream out his name. As they both reached the peak, Lilac leaned in to whisper exactly what she wanted him to do. 

With a grunt, Ethan obeyed wholeheartedly. 

“Your turn,” she panted minutes later as she rolled off of him. 

“As you wish,” he said, the words interrupted as he too struggled to catch his breath. “Although you know I prefer it when you take the lead.”

She laughed. “No, your turn to pick a place to go next.”

Ethan flipped on his side, offering her the sexiest grin. God, she was really thinking about sleeping with him again, mere minutes after the first round. 

“I thought I picked this one,” he teased, his voice thick and heavy in ways that made her center pool with heat. 

“We both picked this one,” she argued before she kissed him. 

-------------

3:47 am

Ethan only pretended to consider their next destination. The truth was that he knew the answer since the moment she suggested it in front of the fountains. 

They only had to leave the bed, a feat that was more challenging than it sounded. 

Lilac, far more determined than Ethan, even got as far as slipping back into the lacy black underwear he had removed with his teeth earlier. The deliberately coy smile she sent his way when she realized he was staring, however, had his hands on her hips in seconds. 

“Fucking hell, Lilac,” he murmured against her mouth as he pulled her on top of him for the second time that hour. 

----------

4:59 am

After a third failed attempt to get out of bed, which resulted in both of them making good on the promises they made in their earlier texts, Lilac sat up in bed to look at him full on. She gave him what was supposed to be a stern, admonishing look, but she knew it was half hearted because he looked at her with such adoration that she broke a smile. 

“No more distracting me. You're not getting out of picking, Ramsey.”

Ethan's eyes remained fixed on hers in the darkness of the room, his expression betraying no hints of amusement. Outside, the sky began to glow with the first rays of orange and pink, the promise of the sun's arrival setting the inky blue sky ablaze. 

She frowned, noting the lines of exhaustion on his handsome face. “Are you tired? We can just stay if—” 

“We're already here,” he said quietly. “The place I pick.” 

“Bed?” she asked with a startled laugh. “Ethan Ramsey, you are almost a romantic.”

“Almost?” His mouth betrayed a hint of a smile. “I'm offended, Rookie. But no, as wonderful as we are in bed, that's not my choice.”

Ethan didn't elaborate, the small crease between his brows suggesting he was deep in thought. Every so often, his eyes flickered to hers, holding her gaze briefly before they moved away just as quickly.  

“I'm not—” he started, stopped, and tried again. “I'm not good at this kind of thing.”

A slight flush colored his angled cheekbones, so endearing that she couldn't help but kiss him. In all honesty, she wasn't any better at any of it either, only suggesting the date idea as a clichéd way for them to spend time together in a faraway city. It hadn’t been her proudest moment but had Googled ideas the moment he said he was outside. 

Nervous energy filled the room in their shared silence. 

“The only place in the world I give a damn about is by your side, Lilac,” he said at last, the words quiet but powerful enough to make her pulse clamor like bells. 

Ethan scratched the back of his head at her silence. “I was also hoping this goddamn penthouse had a balcony. I would've picked that as my date because of Miami and the first time we—” 

Lilac interrupted him with a kiss, the force of it over balancing Ethan and sending him into the pillows. She didn't care that their kiss was unceremonious and far from romantic. All she was aware of was the growing, urgent need to kiss this cheesy, romantic, brilliant man. He laughed against her lips, strong hands steadying her on top of him. 

“You're so much better at this than you give yourself credit for,” she informed him when they broke apart. 

“Good,” he said, lifting his head to kiss the curve of her neck. “I was worried there was finally something I didn't excel at.”

------------------

A/N: Meanwhile, her friends are still partying somewhere on the Strip, begging Bryce to quit drinking while he’s ahead. Those fish bowl drinks are no joke. 

Holy shit that was 3K of nothingness. If you made it this far, thank you! 

This was loosely based on my experience(s) going to Vegas, although I don’t remember most of it. Again, those fish bowl drinks will destroy you lol. 

Thank you to @aestheticartsx for your help with this mess!

P.S. Sorry about the dress in the pic not being the exact same one. I saw some that were close but the wrong color. Others were too crazy with that neckline. Ethan would’ve just dropped dead lol. 

___________

New Tags: (Hope I didn’t miss anyone!)

@openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @ethandaddyramsey, @trappedinfandoms, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself,  @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @colossalpainintheass, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, @choicesstan1, @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @mrsramseyy, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @angela8756, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie, @natashajaniphil, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble​

Interest in this fic:

@udishaman, @a-crepusculo, @khayy19, @mercury84choices, @jlynn12273, @fireycookie 

[hotchley]

because no is a complete sentence.

hi! so @m0rcia is amazing and has been talking about a spencer hotchner au, which sounds like a really cool thing. it also sounds very chaotic given that diana is still his mother, which would lead to a lot of different parenting techniques. however, she was an absolute angel that answered my asks, which kinda? maybe? hopefuly got me out of my writer’s block. so even though the spencer hotchner au isn’t a complete fic yet, i wrote a really short drabble about it. because it’s amazing. like seriously, you need to see the posts about it.

@m0rcia: thank you. i hope this is okay- i wanted to surprise you because i only followed you recently but your blog always makes me laugh and it’s just really nice okay? and you’re also really nice. right i’ll stop ranting.

this is basically spencer learning that he never needs to justify himself after saying the word no. to anyone. regardless of who they are.

trigger warnings: references to child abuse

Spencer Hotchner is four years and three months old when he first learns that the word “no” is a full sentence.

His mother had often taught him about linguistics, and the way that sentences were formed in different languages. She taught him lots of different words- some of them his dad thought were not appropriate for him to be saying. Why, he didn’t know, because adults said those words all the time with no repercussions.

His dad struggled with the explanation. Spencer still doesn’t understand, but what he does know is that when he goes to stay with his mom, he can say what he wants, so long as he isn’t rude or disrespectful to anyone else around. Dad is more traditional- something to do with his southern upbringing- and he seems a bit different when he uses the so-called bad words. Sometimes they slip out.

But his dad doesn’t shout at him when he uses them. He just takes a deep breath and explains why he doesn’t like Spencer using them. Spencer starts to understand that his dad doesn’t like hearing them, but his mother thinks it’s okay. It’s still a bit confusing for him, but he thinks he grasps it.

Mom doesn’t have a lot of friends that want to touch him. He likes that, because there are only some people who he doesn’t mind touching him. Mom is the first person on that list. She always avoids the places that make him feel weird- his stomach and the back of his neck. Dad is also allowed to hug him. Most nights, he can’t sleep without his dad holding him close. He knows that the two of them are safe people, that’s why he likes them. And Dad is always gentle with him, never holding him too tightly.

Well, he did one time. They were in the shop and it was busy and all the people were so much bigger than Spencer. He found it overwhelming and started crying. Dad dropped the shopping right there in the aisle and took him to the toilets until he was able to explain through their hand signals what it was upsetting him: the lights, the tightness of Hotch’s touch and all the people.

After that, his Dad started taking one day a week as a work from home day. On those days, they would do their grocery shopping in the morning, when it was quiet and less colourful, and then Spencer would spend the afternoon with his Mom whilst Hotch did his work.

So Spencer had never really felt uncomfortable with touch. There were certain fabrics that he hated, but neither parent ever made him wear them. Mom let him wear whatever he wanted. Dad wanted him to change out of his pyjamas in the mornings when it was a weekday, but on weekends, they both spent their time in their pyjamas. It was really nice.

Dad’s family were less so. His dad didn’t have a dad anymore, nor did he like talking about him. Mom said that Dad’s dad was dead, which meant he no longer existed on this planet. Mom told him all sorts of theories about what happened to people after they died, but Dad said the conversation made him feel “icky” so they didn’t speak about it much.

But Dad took him to meet his family one weekend. Or the family he had left. Spencer knew all of their names. There was his Uncle Sean, his grandmother, two grand-aunts and three granduncles. One of his cousins was going to be there too, but they were much older than him.

When Dad rang the doorbell, he was doing the thing with his hand. Spencer had learnt he did that when he had sick feeling in his stomach that people described as butterflies.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked, staring up with wide eyes.

“I don’t really get on with most of my family. But you might like them, and you have a right to know who they are, which is why we’re here,” Dad answered.

“If it makes you feel icky then why did you do it?”

Dad did not answer. Spencer wondered if it was an impolite question. In reality, Aaron was trying to find the words. No had never been a good word in his house. At best, it meant he was being a difficult child, refusing to eat their vegetables. But most of the time it meant his father was refusing to have mercy or listen to him.

The door was opened before he could formulate an answer that wouldn’t terrify his son.

“Aaron! I was wondering when you would get here!” his mother said, kissing him on the forehead. Aaron didn’t let go of Spencer as he entered, remembering to slip his shoes off and put them to one side.

“Well, I’m here now, so,” he said.

Spencer shifted so he was slightly hidden.

“Is this Spencer? Hello, I’m your dad’s mommy, but you can call me whatever you’re most comfortable with. I prefer Nanny, it makes me feel less old and more loved. I have no idea what it is about it, it just does.”

“Mom, we talked about this. Please don’t overwhelm him,” Aaron said, already exasperated.

“Oh I am so sorry. Sean! Your brother is here!” she yelled.

Sean came rushing down the stairs. “Hey Aaron. Hi Spencer, I’m Sean, Aaron’s brother.”

Spencer gave him a shy wave. He wasn’t sure he wanted any of these people hugging him. But it was okay, because his dad understood that and kept them distracted to the point that they didn’t even realise.

The problem came when they were leaving. His dad had gone to get both of their coats, and Spencer was alone in the living room. Dad’s relatives were looking at him strangely as he was mesmerised by the art on the walls. He wondered if his Mom knew where it came from, and what it meant. The colours were muted, but pretty to look at.

“We’ll be off then,” Aaron said, once Spencer was all zipped up.

One of the grand aunts held her arms out. Spencer looked at his dad, who was engaged in conversation with his brother. He didn’t know what the woman expected her to do, so he stood there, watching her. Her face had an expression that he didn’t recognise on it.

Before he could register what she was doing her arms were wrapped around him, in a hug, that he did not want.

He let out a shout and Dad turned around.

“Spencer?” he said, trying to work out what was going on.

Spencer was squirming, trying to get away, but the woman just tightened her grip as he frantically shook his head, not knowing what he was supposed to say. He didn’t like the smell of her perfume, or the scratchy material of her dress. He wasn’t a baby anymore, but he could feel tears forming in his eyes.

And then suddenly he could breathe again. Dad had pulled him away. He buried his head in the soft material of his coat. It was nice and familiar and safe.

“Did he say you could hug him?” Aaron asked, his voice cold.

“I’m his family member, he should just do it,” she snapped.

Aaron swallowed. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes his own family had. He couldn’t. “No, he shouldn’t. If he doesn’t want you hugging him, then you don’t. Understood? Mother, I’ll see you soon, hopefully. Spencer, we’re going home.”

Spencer nodded. He didn’t speak the whole journey home.

“How are you feeling now?” Dad asked, when they returned.

Spencer shrugged. “I didn’t like her hugging me.”

“That’s okay. When you don’t want somebody doing something, you say no. Okay? That’s all you have to say. No is a complete sentence. You don’t need to explain yourself. Ever. To anyone. Even to me. If you don’t want me to hug you, I won’t. And if that person makes you feel bad then they’re silly. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Dad.”

“And if they don’t stop, you hit them as hard as you can, and then you tell me. Or your Mom. Whichever one of us you see first.”

Spencer nodded. No was an interesting sentence. He’d have to ask his Mom about it. She then said it was one of the most important words a child could learn, and she was glad that his dad had taught him how to use it. They even practiced using it. It was much more fun to say: no I do not want to hear your opinions on Moby Dick again than it was to say: no I do not want a lollipop- which is what dad had made him say.

He was six years old when his dad first saw him use it.

They were in the playground. Dad was talking to Haley Brooks, who was there for her nephew. His Dad was not very good at disguising his attraction to her. Spencer thought it was a bit silly that he didn’t just say he was interested in her. He’d told his mom about what he thought was going to happen. She’d listened attentively and eventually deemed this Haley a good person.

Spencer had gotten bored and wondered over to some of the other kids, who were also waiting for their parents to finish their conversations. He was actually taller than one of them, but the rest were slightly bigger than him. They were playing a more gentle game of tag. Although he’d never met any of them, they quickly let him join the game.

When it was over, because one of them had to go, they asked to hug everyone. All the other children agreed like it was nothing.

Spencer didn’t want to hug him. But he didn’t want it to be like the other time, with Dad’s aunt. He hesitated and tried to see where his dad was. Dad had one eye on him and the other on Haley, ready to step in if he was needed.

No was a complete sentence. It always had been, and it always would be.

So when the little boy turned to him and asked if he could hug him, Spencer knew what to say.

“No,” he said.

The boy looked a little saddened, but shrugged and said bye to him anyways, before going over to his mom and leaving. Spencer used that moment to go back to his dad, who was done talking to Miss Brooks and smiled at him.

“Hey buddy. How was your little game?”

“It was nice. The boy wanted to hug me, but I didn’t want that to happen, so I told him no. And he just said okay and goodbye.”

Aaron smiled, holding his hand out in case his son wanted to hold it during their walk home. “Well done buddy. I know it can be a bit difficult to say it sometimes, but you did good. Shall we go home now?”

Spencer nodded. “Goodbye Miss Brooks.”

“Goodbye Spencer. See you soon Aaron.”

Aaron blushed and turned away, leading his son out of the school. His son that had no problem taking control of his own body or making his needs and wants known. He smiled to himself. Him and Diana may have not agreed on a lot of things, but this? This he was going to tell her all about. Because this was both of them.

Aaron Hotchner may not have grown up knowing that no was okay.

But Spencer Hotchner never had any problems using the word. Because in the Hotchner household, and everywhere else they went, regardless of who or where it was, no was a complete sentence. As it should be everywhere.

[contraststudies]

Thank you for tagging me, @tawnyontumblr​! I’m very bad at doing these writer meme things, so here goes nothing.

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

45 and counting!

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

376,429. Holy moly that is a fuck ton of words (I only properly started posting on AO3 last May iirc).

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Four: Critical Role, Good Omens, Hades, and Kill La Kill.

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

This list is bookended by two PWPs, which I find hilarious given that I seem to have misplaced my smut brain cell sometime in the last couple of months.

On The Matter of Traffic Violations (Good Omens, E)

“Officer Fell,” Crowley says, and leans forward, enough to give Fell a good view of his décolletage. He tilts his head in the way he knows people find deliciously coquettish, glad that he’d had the foresight to apply some mascara before heading out. “I’m so very sorry about this,” he says, looking up at the officer through his lashes. “It’s late, you know, no cars around… Didn’t notice how fast I was going, that’s all.”

[Or: Crowley flirts his way out of a traffic violation.]

Unbinding (Critical Role, T)

This is a great honor, Essek reminds himself, trying not to recoil as fingers run through his hair, working through the tangles. A braid is made of three strands, symbolizing the inextricable bond between the soul, the den, and the Luxon. A recognition of an achievement by the drow who bears it. With each braid, the soul is bound ever closer to its den and to the Luxon.

It is a lesson Essek learned long ago, but one he is never permitted to forget.

[Or: the story of why the Shadowhand wears his hair cropped short.]

No Church In The Wild (Good Omens, E)

The stem of the wineglass in Aziraphale’s hand snaps cleanly in two, but no one seems to hear it—every eye in the room is trained on the redheaded dancer sashaying to the gleaming silver pole, centre stage for all to see.

Oh, Aziraphale thinks faintly. Good lord.

[Or: the one where Aziraphale gets assigned to the red light district.]

abide gold with me (Critical Role, T)

“Okay, Cay-leb,” Jester says, stretching out the syllables affectionately. “You sit right here so we can watch you and Essek try an orange for the first time.”

The Primal Scene (Good Omens, E - a collab with @lookitsstevie​!)

Harriet notices that there’s a crack of light at the end of the hallway coming from the door to the library, and her mood brightens considerably. Perhaps the tutors are still here, putting together their lessons for the next day before they leave for the night. She leans down to pick up a piece of cloth that’s fallen on the rug. Her breath catches in her throat when she realizes what it is – a necktie with a familiar tartan pattern.

She nearly drops the tie in shock at the unmistakable sound coming from the closed door of the library. A sharp, quickly stifled moan.

[Or: Harriet Dowling accidentally bears witness to divine ecstasy.]

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try. I really do. My friends (and maybe some of my readers) know that this is difficult for me, mainly because any sort of recognition reduces me to a gibbering pile of tears. I’m working on it though, even if it does take me a million years to respond to anything on AO3. 

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

God, which one do I choose. I have been referred to as an angst gremlin for a very good reason. I’m gonna go with The Remains of the Day, a Good Omens fairy tale AU I wrote loosely based on Bluebeard.  

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I HAVE. I wrote philtatos, a crossover of Good Omens and The Iliad/The Song of Achilles. It’s the only crossover I’ve ever written, unless we’re counting Variations of an Arrangement, which could loosely count as a crossover of the book/radio/TV versions of Good Omens.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I have not. And hopefully never will.

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do, and it’s usually of the angst with a happy ending variety.

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Hm. How do we define stealing? Just kidding. The short answer is no.

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Got one in the works for Critical Role!

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes was actually the first ship I ever really got into, and they’ll always have a special place in my heart even if I never wrote anything for that fandom. Crowley/Aziraphale from Good Omens of course, and more recently Caleb Widogast/Essek Thelyss from Critical Role.

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Variations of an Arrangement. I loved writing it, and I still want to finish it one day, but it took a lot of brainpower to write and keep track of the plot and I feel like it’s beyond me, at least right now.

15) What are your writing strengths?

I… hmm. Judging by the way people are always yelling at me in their comments, I guess it’s that I can write stories that make people feel things very deeply.

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

I repeat words so often, it’s embarrassing. I use too many “-ly” adverbs. Also, I find myself using the same turns of phrase across several fics lmao.

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Language is a tricky thing. I don’t want to bore you with discourse. I try not to write dialogue in a different language (especially if it’s not one I speak myself) unless it’s absolutely called for, or if they’re just basic phrases and I’m 100% certain I won’t be getting it wrong. I have read fics where this was done very well though, and I’ve found that it really adds to the atmosphere in those cases.

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

It was for this old anime called Princess Tutu. I danced ballet when I was younger and loved it so much – I believe I was only twelve at the time?? But I think the fic may still be floating around on FF.net somewhere.

19) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

I wrote philtatos in a four-day fever dream. It’s not the most technically perfect fic I’ve ever written or anything like that, but I think it’s the one that reveals the most about who I am as a person. That is an incredibly cheesy thing to say, I know. I always joke that posting that fic felt like offering my still-beating heart on a silver platter to the void, but there you are.

For Critical Role, surprisingly enough it’s this ficlet I wrote called sinners, a small bite of Shadowdrei where I was parsing my ideas on Astrid and Eadwulf’s dynamic and where they stood when it came to Bren/Caleb and Essek. I didn’t realize how fully formed my thoughts were until I wrote that. Fascinating what your own writing will show you about the things that are in your mind.

Tagging with no pressure whatsoever: @naromoreau @jenanigans1207 @saretton @theseedsofdoom @musegnome!

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #6

A/N: If anyone’s interested, the perfume Lizzie is wearing is one of my all-time favourites, Aqua di Gioia by Giorgio Armani. It’s really poorly described here because my olfactory recognition doesn’t go beyond ‘good’ and ‘bad’, but well. It’s divine though. Also, bear with me if sth astrological is wrong, this stuff is complicated! Katriona Cassiopeia (aka KC) belongs to my lovely friend @kc-needs-coffee

  Word Count: ~ 2.100

______________________________________________________________ 

Chapter 6: A New Perspective

As it turned out, Orion’s decision to name Everett Hufflepuff’s new Beater had been the right one. He still had a way to go, but he immediately fell in line with the rest of the team. What he lacked in precision, he made up in strength.

Orion had taking his individual training on himself. As the team’s captain, he saw it as his personal responsibility to ensure every one of his teammates was able to reach his full potential. Everett was a fast learner, but it would take him a few more sessions to even be remotely able to hold a candle to the Ravenclaw Beaters.

Rath and Cassiopeia had been a well attuned team for many years now, both as skilled a Beater as they came. They would need any protection against them they could get, and the match against Ravenclaw was approaching fast.

Although Orion wasn’t the type of person to let his mind be clouded by worries, he had to admit he wasn’t entirely sure they could get Everett into proper form in time. He had been voicing his concerns to Lizzie the other day, during one of their tutoring sessions. If anyone knew what it took to become a Beater in a short amount of time it was her.

Lately, Orion had found himself looking forward to their meetings in the greenhouse, despite his already tightly packed schedule. It was refreshing to discuss their team matters with someone that didn’t flood him with a multitude of statistics for a change. Lizzie had a different approach to things than him, but they weren’t polar opposites like he and Skye. Exchanging views with her had provided him with a new impulse more than once.

In fact, he had come to enjoy her presence in general, even more so than before. They had always been friends but his knowledge about her had pretty much begun and ended at the Quidditch pitch. Seeing her outside team meetings and practise had allowed him to get to know other sides of her. He’d had no idea Lizzie had been part of the duelling club until last year. Or that Arithmancy was one of her favourite subjects. Or that she used a perfume smelling distinctively of jasmine and mint.

Orion had a harder time bonding with her friend Rowan. He hadn’t had any points of contact with her before he had started tutoring them. Now, several weeks later, he still knew hardly anything about her. She seemed to be exceptionally smart, but also equally as shy. Most of the time she would consult her textbook about the plants he tried to teach them about, while Lizzie paid it no mind, listening to his explanations instead.

Orion couldn’t help his impression that Rowan was struggling with his unconventional style of teaching. He didn’t refer to books more than he had to, rather letting his instinct and experience guide him.

Having trained with him for years, Lizzie knew his way of conveying knowledge was not always straightforward. Rowan, however, had a hard time letting go of protocol. She was clinging to the academic theory as if her life depended on it. Following the rules could help with a lot of problems, but she would never master the delicate nuances advanced Herbology had to offer, if she wasn’t willing to tread paths unknown to her.

“And what exactly is the difference between dried foxglove petals and desiccated foxglove petals?”

McNully snapped him out of his thoughts and back to where they were sitting in the Great Hall. It was study time and most of the students were gathered at their House tables, brooding over their homework.

They had been discussing their latest Potions essay, covering the effects sourcing methods had on the quality of ingredients.

“That is what we are supposed to illustrate, I believe.” Orion dipped his quill into the ink bottle they were sharing and tried to pick up where his wandering thoughts had let him off. His eyes wandered casually across the other Hufflepuff students lining their table.

It lingered where Skye and Lizzie were sitting. Lizzie was rapidly flicking through the pages of her textbook with a puzzled expression. Skye was talking insistently at her, looking equally as bewildered.

Several heads shot up as Lizzie audibly slammed her book shut and clambered off the bench. When Skye made no move to follow her, she jerked the other girl up off her seat and motioned with her head towards where he and McNully were sat.

They quietly walked towards the head of the Hufflepuff table. Seeing them approach, McNully reached for his wheelchair that was blocking the way. He moved it aside to allow the girls to join them. Orion smiled.

“What can we help you with?”

Wordlessly, Lizzie held up her copy of Unfogging the Future and slid into a seat between Murphy and him. She reopened the page she had been examining before and gave a frustrated sigh.

“I cannot tell you how much I hate Divination, I really can’t. You’re good at this, aren’t you?”

Orion supressed a smile. “So I am told. What bothers you in particular?”

“It’s those bloody birthstones,” Skye explained. “No matter how often we go over it, Lizzie and I always come to different results and we can’t find the mistake.”

They handed him their notes and Orion quickly gave them a check before returning them.

“That is because both choices are correct. There is more than one birthstone for each of the zodiac signs. You both chose the right stone for the right sign, but in different parts of the time span covered.”

Skye groaned in frustration, earning her a chiding glance from Professor Flitwick, who was supervising them today. “What do you mean, more than one? Why can’t this stuff be straightforward for once?”

“Everyone is different and such is reflected in the stones fortifying our inner strengths. Why should there be so little birthstones when there are so many traits to represent?”

Both girls looked at him with blank expressions.

Patiently, he flipped the pages to one of the star charts at the back of the book. “The astrological year is divided into the twelve zodiac signs. Each zodiac sign is subdivided into three decades, meaning a set of ten days. There are additional factors to consider, but simply put, there are three birthstones for each sign, representing one decade each. That is why you come to different conclusions, you didn’t factor in the time of the month.”

He contemplated telling them about the stones meant to counteract each signs weaknesses. But seeing Skye pinching the bridge of her nose, while was Lizzie trying to process what he had just said, muttering “I hate Divination” under her breath, he decided against it. Better not too much at once.

“How do you know all this nonsense?” Skye was shaking her head in disbelief.

“I know all this because it is explained in the introduction of the chapter you two apparently weren’t reading too diligently.” He turned the pages back to the beginning and pointed at the paragraph on the first page.

Lizzie’ cheeks flushed a bright read as she quickly scanned the text. “I can’t believe I overlooked this.” Embarrassed, she quickly snatched the book out of Orion’s hands and got up. “Thanks for helping anyway.”

They made their way back to their places, the scent of jasmine and mint lingering behind. Orion was always glad if he could help a friend. A few seats down the table, Lizzie was discussing what he had just told them with Skye. He thought back on what Penny and Murphy had said on the train ride to Hogwarts a few weeks earlier.

Lizzie really had changed a lot. She seemed to be standing taller, an air of effortless confidence around her. The blush on her cheeks had made her look really pretty, reminding him of how the rush of the wind brought the colour to her face when she was flying. She was moving differently as well, more graceful and fluently, her hips swaying ever so slightly with every step she took. He had never noticed her hips swaying like that before.

McNully nudged his shoulder. “Uhm, Orion… if you don’t want to rewrite your whole essay, I’d move my quill if I was you.”

He snapped out of it and looked down at his parchment. The ink was dripping from the tip of his quill, forming a large black puddle at the end of his last sentence that was quickly spreading onto the rest of his half-finished essay.

Orion cursed under his breath, immediately drawing his wand to vanish the excess ink. Fortunately not too much of his work was ruined.

McNully raised his eyebrows. “Such a strong language, my friend. I have only heard you curse three times, so far. One time was when you crashed your broom into the commentary box and broke your wrist, the second time when you forgot the time while broom balancing and almost missed your Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. exam and the third time when you burned yourself on your cauldron and spilled Wiggenweld Potion all over Professor Snape. This reaction is 87,9 % surprising.”

He felt the heat creeping up his neck. McNully was right, he wasn’t easily enticed to displaying his emotions verbally. He hadn’t meant to let himself slip like that.

Choosing not to answer his curious friend, he committed himself to restoring the missing part of his essay. But McNully wouldn’t let it pass like that.

He was nodding in the direction of Lizzie. “I wonder if she knows how much attention she is attracting.”

Orion gripped his quill a little tighter, concentrating on finishing his sentence. He fought the urge to follow McNully’s gaze.

“Our friend has a captivating personality, for sure. But would you mind lifting the veil of ignorance from my eyes and tell me how you reached such a conclusion?”

For a moment, McNully smirked knowingly before he directed Orion’s attention over to where their roommates were sitting. He could easily make out what McNully had been referring to. Everett was eyeing the girls up without even trying to conceal it.

“Him, of course. He’s been checking Lizzie out ever since she came over to us.” He smiled innocently at him. “Why, who did you think I was talking about?”

Orion’s brow furrowed in concern. He didn’t like the predatory look on Everett’s face. This guy had somewhat of a reputation.

“Yeah, I don’t like the looks he’s giving her either,” McNully echoed his unspoken thoughts with a scowl. He leaned closer to him, putting his elbow on Orion’s shoulder in conspiratorial way. “I think we should do something about it, don’t you? And by ‘we’, I obviously mean ‘you’.”

Shaking off McNully’s hand, Orion gave him a disapproving look. “And why would I do that? He is our new Beater if you don’t recall.”

“For the sake of the team, of course!”

McNully started reciting his calculations. “I’d put the chance of him going for our little Chaser prodigy at roughly 80 %. There are some variables unaccounted for, but I’d say the chances of Lizzie falling for him lie at something around 54 %. Which would affect the team’s dynamic gravely. And we can’t have that decreasing our- I mean, your odds on winning the Quidditch Cup.”

Orion blew onto his parchment until the ink had properly dried. “You talk as if he was actually hitting her up. All he did was looking at her.”

And there was certainly nothing wrong with looking.

“Lizzie can fend for herself if need be. Besides, who am I to interfere with the course the heart is deciding to take.”

McNully looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “Mate… I don’t think the heart has much to with it if you get my drift. Seriously, do something.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He stood up and handed Professor Flitwick his work of the day.

McNully raised one eyebrow at him. “And what would that be?”

Orion gathered his strewn books and notes. “Finding balance inside and outside of my mind, my dear friend. See you at dinner.”

[switchbrainedholylime]

O, Canada

A small gift of Renga fic to @emmettspeakz

Reki laid on the floor awoken by the sun’s rays. He and Langa had just ended up having an impounti sleepover at his workshop since he stayed up until 3 in the morning fixing up their boards. The redhead looked over at Langa who muttered to himself in his sleep. 

“Oui, j'aimerais le pain au chocolat (Yes, I’d like the chocolate croissant). Oui, l'école va bien (Yes, school’s fine)...Papa, quand nous reverrons-nous? (Father, when will we meet again?)...Adieu,” Langa opened his eyes only to see a very confused Reki. “What’s wrong?” 

“You were just sayin’ some weird stuff in yer sleep.” Reki answered.  

“Oh, was I talking in French again? Sorry, I grew up in a resort town between Quebec City and Montreal, where there’s a lot of French-speakers. I speak French, English, and Japanese.” Langa yawned, “Sometimes I speak another language in my sleep.” 

“Really? That’s so cool.” Reki’s eyes glistened.   

“My adopted dad Oliver-”

“Wait, wait, hold on. You’re adopted? Since when?” Reki’s glistening eyes turned to confusion.  

“Yeah, haven’t you ever wondered why I don’t look like my parents?” Langa pointed to himself. “My biological dad gave me up to his two friends Oliver and my mom when I was...4? Yeah, that sounds right. He was really busy with work; he’s a UN representative for Canada and he felt it’d look bad on his part to have a bastard kid so he swept it under the rug. Though it might come out if I go through with Miya on competing in the Olympics in a few years.” 

“That sucks, I had no idea...,” Reki sighed, “Who am I kiddin’? I’m practically in the same boat. My dad works at a black company. The old man gets maybe four hours of sleep a week if he’s lucky. I never want to end up like him, just tied to an office chair.”

“What do you want to do?” Langa asked. 

“I don’t know. Skate, I guess.” Reki yawned.  

“Yeah, but even skilled skaters like Cherry and Joe have day jobs. Hell, even Adam does and he runs the circuit.” Langa brought up. 

“Man, don’t bring up that bastard’s name this early in the morning.” Reki groaned. “Besides, I got that job at the shop.”  

“We both know that’s not gonna pay the bills,” Langa pointed out. 

“True.” Reki sat up, “Our English teacher said the career survey’s due on Monday. Ugh, I still haven’t got a clue.”

“You’re pretty good with your hands and handling tools. You don’t want an office job, and I can’t blame you. Maybe technical school?” Langa suggested. 

“Joe mentioned that last week. He said he’d be glad to write a letter of recommendation for the trade school he went to, but I don’t know if I’d like to work in a kitchen.” Reki looked over at his tools. “Maybe a handyman? I’d probably like fixin’ things up a whole lot more than I would be at my dad’s place. Just thinking about being a boring salaryman makes me wanna puke. Dad always looks so miserable, like someone just yanked his soul out of his chest.” 

“So sort of what you looked like after skating with Adam?” Langa asked. “Except all of the time?”  

“Please don’t say that bastard’s name. It’s too early in the morning.” Reki moaned and rubbed his eyes. “Or ever say it,” 

Langa laughed lightly as Reki pouted. “Hey, I wasn’t joking!”

“I know.” Langa smiled and then planted a small kiss on Reki’s cheek. “My biological father and I meet up to have dinner once every six months. I only recently mentioned that I was dating you in a text and he told me he wants to meet you.” 

“I’ll need to brush up on my English then.” Reki sighed. 

“I’m sure Boyer-sensei will help.” 

-------------    

Their English teacher was a brunette American woman they called “Boyer-sensei”. She had a larger frame and was pale. She walked around collecting the career survey forms from her students. As usual, Reki was looking at his phone, texting with Langa about a new skate trick they saw on Instagram. 

“Reki Kyan. Langa Hasegawa.” Boyer-sensei looked down at the redhead and blue-haired skaters. “Do you have the forms I passed out last week? The student council wants them to be collected by tomorrow afternoon.” 

“Yeah,” The couple handed them to their English teacher. 

Boyer-sensei was genuinely shocked. “You never have your homework done.” 

“Are your standards really that low for us?” Langa appeared distraught. 

“Yes, they are.” Boyer stated firmly as she read Reki’s list. “A repairman...construction worker...hold on, are you really Reki Kyan? You’re not an Auton, are you?”

“What’s an Auton?” Reki asked. 

“It’s a monster from Dr. Who.” Langa explained. “They create replicas of humans. Do you not have Dr. Who available in Japan?”  

Reki was quiet for an awkward moment. He wasn’t sure. “Well, I figured it was a weird nerd reference.” 

“Anyway, Boyer-sensei, most skaters have day jobs. I’m NOT giving up skating anytime soon.” Reki grinned and winked over at Langa who smiled back. 

“I guess that makes sense. I-I just never thought the day would come where you have a single brain cell or atom of responsibility in your veins.” Boyer-sensei was floored. “The world really is ending.” 

------

A few weeks later, the day finally arrived where Reki would have to get into a decent pair of dress clothing for the first time since...ever. Cherry and Joe helped Reki pick out a traditional red yukata that didn’t feel trashy as his regular look but not so stuffy it made him visibly uncomfortable.

[SNOW (LANGA): Just got in his rental from the airport. I gave his coiffeur your address. We’re on our way.] 

[REKI: Cool. Waiting outside.]  

Reki stood at the edge of his driveway tapping his skateboard nervously. He tried to imagine what a fancy-ass version of Langa would look like in a suit with the UN logo.  

A vintage red BMW pulled up. He instantly recognized Langa who was in a iron pressed dress shirt and khakis. The coiffeur was a local man he recognized as a regular at S and the shop, but he was silent the entire time. 

Next to him was a man with Langa’s exact same hair, face, and height. The only difference the eye and hair color along with the fact that he wore glasses. He had blond hair and purple eyes. His dad didn’t look that old. He looked like he was in his early twenties. He was even more well-dressed than Langa and Reki combined. A satin beige suit, Italians handmade shoes, slightly wavy hair that smelled like fresh-brewed coffee.  

Shadow looks older than this guy. Reki blinked, his face full of confusion. Did he say father or brother? Reki was almost positive Langa said father, but how young was he when he had him? Two? 

Reki shook his head. Just don’t blow it, don’t sound like the moron you are in front of this fancy-dancy foreign guy. 

“Hey, Langa! Got a fancier ride than usual?” Reki greeted them with a smile. 

Langa blinked at his and the other man. “Yeah, you wanna get in.” 

The moment Reki got in there was an awkward silence. Reki sat in the middle of the two Canadians. The redhead had a million questions but the air in the backseat was so thick. 

 “So you smell like coffee.” Renga stated as Langa shake his head. “That’s a good thing. I usually smell like sweat and Mountain Dew. I actually took a shower today and brushed my teeth.” Reki smiled brightly. 

“Good, glad to know.” The diplomat smiled nervously. “My name’s Matthew Williams, PhD, Canadian UN diplomat.” 

“I’m Reki Kyan...I like to skate. I work part-time at this skate shop with Langa. We’ve been dating for...I think four months.” The redhead explained. 

“I’ve heard from Langa’s mother. Thanks for teaching Langa and being with him. So is there skate hotels you like to frequent?” Matthew asked. 

“Does the hospital count?” Reki asked. 

“I wouldn’t exactly give it five stars. Langa, has Japan been treating you well so far?” Matthew asked.  

“Yeah, most people are pretty nice. There’s no Tim Hortons, but I’ve gotten addicted to Ramen. Still would love a donut every now and then.” 

“That’s the place where they sell donuts instead of fries, right?” Reki looked over at his boyfriend. 

“Yeah,” Langa replied.

“Man that sounds delicious!” Reki smiled.

“So Langa, your mother told me that you and Reki had a falling out a month ago because of this shady person called Adam.” 

“Yeah, it was pretty bad.” 

“You know I’ve made people...disappear before for ignoring me, causing me trouble, just being an obnoxious brat of a twin brother who tormented me since 1867 until I couldn’t take it anymore.” Matthew stated with a mixture of innocence and sinstery. “I could make this ‘Adam’ person disappear, too. I’ve made good friends with Russia since we used to share a border back when Alaska was part of the Soviet Union.” 

“What do you mean ‘disappear’?” Reki’s eyes widened. “Wait, how old are you? You were around during the Cold War...that’s um, Langa?”

“Alaska was annexed by the US in the 1950s.” Langa stated. 

“Right, I knew that.” Reki nodded. “Uh, so wouldn’t that make you seventy or something? Like my grandpa’s seventy-three and he’s got really bad teeth.”

“Reki, why don’t you tell him about your career survey?” Langa smiled. 

“Oh, I’m planning on going to technical school.” 

“That’s nice.” 

There was an awkward silence between the trio. 

“So...are you going to charge me anything for making Adam ‘disappear’? You’re not going to get in trouble for that, are you?” Reki asked. 

“I have diplomatic immunity.” Matthew replied, “Laws don’t apply to me.” 

“Well, I won’t lie it is tempting.” Reki bit his lip. 

----------

1 week later 

Reki, Langa, Miya, Shadow, and Cherry relaxed at Joe’s Italian restaurant as the TV played the noontime news. 

“Politician Ainosuke Shindo has been found in his mansion dead since yesterday morning. It’s suspected that the killer used radioactive poison to taint his food. If you have any information, please contact the police.” The newswoman stood outside of Adam’s mansion that was taped off.

Everyone looked over at Reki and Langa. 

“What?” They stared around at their fellow skaters. 

[bondsmagii]

2, 8, 26, 37, 38, 57, 72, 91, 94, 100

> questions to ask at 4:02am meme 🌕🌃

thank you! 

2: Do you mourn for a place or person you’ve never known?

yes 😩 I can’t even adequately describe what’s going on here, but there’s a lot of people and a lot of places that feel familiar even if I don’t know them, if that makes sense? and there’s also a lot of people I could have become, and a lot of places I could have been, and I do have moments where I kind of mourn them even though I have no proof that they would have even existed in that specific way. I do think this is normal to an extent, but also I do this a lot, lol.

on a slightly less philosophical level, I of course mourn my older brother, who’s quite literally a person I never got the chance to know.

8: Do you think you can put love into categories (family, platonic, romantic, etc.) or is it just one general sensation?

oh man definitely. the love you feel for your friends isn’t the same love you feel for your spouse or your parents, and so on and so forth. there’s lots of different kinds of love, and lots of different levels within those types, and you’re also more than capable of feeling several different types and levels towards the same person, in my opinion. I don’t know if I would try and categorise everything, because something like love doesn’t really suit being shoved into boxes, but there are different types of love and I find it’s constantly shifting and changing along with you and the object of your love, which is cool.

I should add that I don’t find any one type of love more or less important than the others. seriously, destroy the idea that romantic love is the One True Love, and all other forms are somehow lesser. that’s just garbage.

26: What’s the most life-changing choice you’ve made so far?

this is kind of embarrassing but the truth often is: almost eight years ago I decided to make a sideblog on here that has... something to do with writing, let’s say, and something to do with... a certain character... and anyway that decision led to me meeting a certain person and going from awkward messages on Tumblr to awkward messages on Skype, to eighteen hour conversations and constant texting, to living in a car together for three months on a roadtrip and then living in a car together for many more months while homeless (and a million other places in between), to moving in together and then holy shit we got married.

so I guess that one impulsive decision to make a shitpost sideblog at stupid o’clock in the morning when I was bored one summer has been the single most life-changing choice I’ve ever made.

37: Do opposites attract?

eh. I mean, yeah, sometimes? but similarities attract, too. I think for any kind of relationship to be successful you’ve kind of got to have an element of both, and I think that “opposites” usually refers to something very specific. for example, I don’t mind cleaning the bathroom and you hate it. that’s a useful kind of opposite, because it means a compromise neither of us feel cheated by. you’re unshakable when it comes to slogging through bureaucratic minutiae, and I’m a beast in high-stress quick-thinking scenarios. together we make a pretty unstoppable team, for being opposites in that regard. I think that’s kind of what’s meant by this saying, but unfortunately it seems to have been appropriated to mean “yes honey, I know you work 10 hour shifts and come home to find your partner hasn’t cleaned the house or done anything to help, but opposites attract!” or “my partner supports Trump and genuinely believes that vaccines and masks are a government conspiracy to control us all, and I am a normal human being, but opposites attract so I guess I’ll have to put up with it”. like no, kings and queens. that isn’t what it means. dump them.

38: Is your life what you expected it would be five years ago?

lmao no. not in the slightest. five years ago it would have been... just into 2016, and yeah, no. there is not a single thing about me right now that I would have predicted, aside from the general stuff that’s never changed about me. I had different ideas about what I would be doing for work, about what I’d be working towards; I had completely different levels of commitment and discipline to various tasks, and I certainly wasn’t planning an international move. I can at least say that I’m happier with my current plan than the one I used to have (it wasn’t a bad plan, it just no longer suits me) but there’s no way I would have expected this.

and of course, there’s the whole issue with the pandemic. five years ago I had no idea I would be living through a global natural disaster, and if you’d told me, I would have thought it would be something like a supervolcano eruption or a nuclear winter. like, I’m glad it’s not, but also “you have to stay in your house for over a year” still kind of sucks.

57: Do you thinks humans are obsessed with escapism (books, video games, movies, etc.)? Are you looking for an escape? Do you think that’s a bad thing?

I think we are sometimes, when things are tough and there’s a need to wish to escape (see how many books I read over quarantine in March, for example). most of the time, however, I think humans just like stories. I don’t think it’s any deeper than the fact that humans love stories, we’ve always loved stories, we’ve always loved telling and hearing stories, before we had books and archives we passed our stories down orally and we drew them on cave walls with our own fingers, and this love for the story has never changed or altered in the hundreds of thousands of years since. I think that’s the major driving force here.

right now I’m looking for an escape 24/7, because I’m sick to death of the real world. I don’t think that’s a bad thing at all. without books, without the fictional things I love, without reading and writing and music, I would have gone absolutely bonkers in 2020. being able to fall into a book or play around in the worlds I’ve created, both my own and things I’ve co-written with you, has literally saved my ass over the past eight months. escapism is never a bad thing. like anything, it only becomes troubling when it starts creating problems. but I do not think there’s any shame in occasionally saying “fuck it” and going to worry about someone else’s fictional problems for a while. 

72: Should people be prosecuted for crimes that weren’t considered crimes at the time?

this is a tough one. on the one hand I want to say no, because it could easily be abused. some asshole could get into power and make something illegal, and then round up all the people who have committed that now-crime and lock them up, and oh, would you look at that! all the people who have committed the now-crime just so happen to be the dictator’s biggest critics and threats, how convenient. 

at the same time, dictators are going to wipe out their enemies no matter how legal it is, and I also have to consider the fact that before WWII, for example, words like “genocide” and “crimes against humanity” didn’t exist. how could we decide that these things are crimes, but then not try those who literally gave cause for the crime to be acknowledged? we can hardly say “alright, genocide is now a crime against humanity, but because these guys did it before this was law they can’t be tried”. that’s just... not really a great precedent to set, you know?

so I suppose a tentative yes? I think it would probably depend entirely on the severity of the crime. for example, if they found out that... I don’t know, some normal everyday substance was something that people could suddenly get high off, and they declared it a drug, I don’t think everyone who’s ever sold it or used it should be rounded up and jailed. but like, if the act of cannibalism itself became a crime (and not just murder or desecration of a corpse, which is what “cannibalism” usually falls under in terms of legality) we should probably go round up all the people who are stealing human legs to eat, yanno?

91: Is hate as strong as love? Who do you hate?

sick totheark reference bro. anyway yeah, hate is as strong as love, though it appears and reacts in different ways. hate and love are two sides of the same coin, if you ask me. the deeper you love somebody, the harder you hate them if things go wrong. hate is betrayed love. something something, a tree’s branches cannot reach to heaven unless its roots reach to hell, and all that. something so powerful is going to leave a lot of damage if it goes wrong.

I hate a few people. I don’t want to go into detail as to their specific identities, because I’m sure that if you know me well, you’ll know who they are. both of them were people whom I loved very deeply, and who betrayed that love in ferociously cruel ways. both people taught me very difficult lessons about the nature of love, and how sometimes it really cannot conquer everything, but while this would be a nasty lesson to learn it’s compounded by the fact that I learned this not out of any kind of extraneous circumstance, but rather through their cruelty and their refusal to work with me, listen to me, or love me in the way I deserved to be loved. my hatred for these people will never go away, even though it certainly doesn’t dominate my life. it is there, though, and I can easily draw on it whenever I need it. should I get the opportunity, I have no doubt in my mind that I have the capacity to be very cruel to these people in my own right, and I won’t feel bad about it.

94: How would you describe yourself when you love? Do you love forcefully, unconditionally, gently, quietly, desperately?

oh damn. forcefully, conditionally, stubbornly, and probably slightly possessively.

I don’t show love in conventional means. I’m one of those stereotypes, I guess. I don’t like declarations of love, I don’t really go in for physical affection, and I’m not sappy at all. my love language is more subtle, but it’s there. I like to do things for people, I like to create things for/with people, I like to have adventures with people. that’s how I love, and I can be pretty forceful about it. I also want people to improve themselves as much as possible -- I think the greatest thing I can witness someone I love doing is becoming the best version of themselves, and I will support them 100% in this effort -- also very forcefully. I don’t think there are many people who could put up with that level of intensity for so long, if I’m honest. I demand a lot of the ones I love, but I also like to think I give a lot, too.

my love is never unconditional. while I believe unconditional love exists, I have never seen it. my love always comes with conditions -- conditions about how I expect to be treated, about ideology, about worldview. these are all huge deal breakers, of course -- my conditions aren’t vague, or petty, or small in any way. but there is nobody on earth, nor will there ever be, who I will not walk away from if I feel the relationship is harmful in any way. I might not stop loving them, but I sure as hell will not assume that my love for them will protect me from them.

at the same time I’m a very stubborn person when it comes to love. people will do things they think must break one of my conditions, but I’ll see something else in it and I’ll stick around even if we both think it’s useless. I’m never wrong, so I suppose I have that going for me. but I am very, very stubborn when it comes to love. I have a high level of endurance and I know how to nurture love; how to stop pessimism from setting in. I’m also slightly possessive, so I don’t let go of anything easily -- and this includes the people I love. I’ll never stifle a person, but I’ll definitely fight for them, and something something everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.

100: What belief do you have that isn’t logically grounded, but you still firmly believe in?

I suppose something like this could never be logically grounded because there’s no logical proof at all, and “I Just Know” is apparently not a scientific argument (it should be), but I know I’ve had past lives. I just do. I have no solid proof for this, only gut feelings and Just Knowing and weird memories and some crazy shit that I can’t explain -- like being able to find my way around a strange city because I remembered it from a past life, for example -- but I just know I’ve had many different lives before and I will have many more to come. this is just an unshakable belief and it always has been.

[mylovelyfandoms]

Jihoon’s backstory

The symbol of the Star

Basic Information

A/N: This isn’t edited because it’s currently 6 am where I am and I did not sleep teehee. Also it’s a lot longer than I intended

Warning: Slight angst, parent neglect, friendship, small grey’s anatomy reference if you squint, mentions of violence, use of the word torture, scenes that you would see if you read Seungcheol’s backstory, and a very rushed ending that I will probably fix after sleep

(GIF not mine)

- Jihoon’s mother thought she was one of the lucky few

- When Jihoon was born, he showed no signs of being one of the affected

- His mother and him moved away from their mostly abandoned neighborhood and into the country of the unaffected

- She laughed at the poor saps who had the affected as their child

- She couldn’t believe that any child could be as monstrous as to have some sort of extraordinary power

- Jihoon’s mother thought she was so lucky

- So, she was in almost complete denial when Jihoon started talking in full sentences when other babies were at the age of babbling out syllables

- She pushed the thought to the back of their heads when Jihoon started reading when other kids were just learning the alphabet

- She did whatever she could to keep her vision of having a normal child

- But Jihoon was just good at everything

- All of the kids around him were amazed and impressed, they always asked him for help with their work and everyone wanted to be his friend

- He had everything that a kid could want, but all he really wanted was his mother’s approval

- It seemed that no matter what he did or how good he did it, his mother just became more and more disappointed

- So he tried harder

- Of course, what he didn’t know was that that was exactly what caused his mother’s disappointment

- So one day, when Jihoon was five, he ran home from school

- His eyes were gleaming with pride and joy as he ran into his home

- “Mom! Mom! Look, an upperclassmen gave me a worksheet and I got it all right!”

- Jihoon’s mother took one look at her child’s beaming smile and snatched the worksheet out of his hand

- “Disgusting”

- That was the last time that Jihoon smiled for a long time

- Everytime Jihoon tried to show his mother his accomplishments, she would just get more and more disgusted and disappointed

- So eventually, he gave up

- Jihoon stopped showing his mom the things he did

- He stopped smiling

- And that was when his mother finally accepted him

- He wanted nothing more than to give into his mother’s toxic love, but he was smarter than that

- He knew that he was smarter, he knew that he was different

- So the fact that his mother tried to change him made him lose hope in humanity 

- Eventually, the end of the year test rolled around 

- Jihoon didn’t bother to mention it to his mother

- He flew through the questions with ease, being the first to finish the entire test

- Since he was the first one done, he sat back and read a book that one of his upperclassmen lent to him

- (He had only made friends with the older kids because he did their homework for fun)

- When class was finally over, Jihoon started to walk home 

- When he stepped into his home, he didn’t expect there to be soldiers carrying big guns standing in his house

- “What...”

- The general stepped forward, a hard look on his face

- “Come peacefully and no one has to get hurt”

- “What?” Jihoon looked around and spotted his mom standing behind two officers

- “Mom, what are they doing?”

- Jihoon stepped towards her, but two soldiers grabbed onto his arms and started dragging him away

- The entire time, he kicked and screamed, trying to get his wrists out of the soldiers’ strong holds

- “Mom! Mom help!” 

- His mom didn’t spare him a single glance

- He clung onto the door frame

- “Mommy, please! Tell them I’m your son!”

- His mother gave him one look before giving out a scoff

- “I don’t have a son.”

- With her words, Jihoon flinched and loosened his grip on the door

-  The soldiers pulled him away and tossed him into the back of a cargo truck, and he didn’t fight back

- When he got to the facility, he was brought into a building where they gave him uniformed clothing 

- The soldiers took him into a different room and tied him down to the chair

- They took out their needle and started to tattoo the star into Jihoon’s arm, holding him down every time he struggled from the pain

- When they finally finished the stroke of the ‘I’, they grabbed him and threw him into a cell with multiple kids in it

- Since the stars were the least dangerous of the affected, the only guards with them were the worst and weakest of the soldiers

- Most of them were forced into work until they grew up to be scientists

- So, they became prisoners of the facility

- For years, Jihoon kept to himself, seeing no point in socializing with others even if they were at the same intellectual level as them

- All he did when he wasn’t working was sulk in the corner of his cell

- The other stars knew to steer clear of him because of the deadly glare he gave to the one poor kid that tried to talk to him

- So, for a long time, Jihoon didn’t talk to anyone

- Until...

- A couple other stars were pushed into Jihoon’s since more and more of them were being added into the facility

- Amongst them was a particularly friendly boy

- No one could understand how someone could be so cheery in his situation

- But no one could resist him

- So when the boy approached Jihoon in his corner, everyone was worried about what the sulking boy would do to the small ray of sunshine that made everyone’s day better

- When the boy approached him in the corner, Jihoon snapped around and shot him one of his infamous glares that sent chills to anyone else that was watching

- But the boy was unphased

- “I’m Hoshi, what’s your name?”

- Jihoon’s eyebrows just shot up and his slitted eyes widened

- “Ah well, you don’t have to tell me.” Hoshi took a seat in front of Jihoon, “But I did want to ask you something.”

- Interested, Jihoon stared at the boy in front of him and cocked his head to the side

- “Well, I’m a senser so I’m not really as smart as all of you brains. And I heard that you went to actual school before you got in here, so I was wondering if you could teach me some things.”

- Jihoon kept his face blank, though he was thoroughly shocked at how far this conversation had gone

- Hoshi sat in silence, obviously not leaving until Jihoon answered

- Eventually, Jihoon cracked and finally spoke up, eyes averting to the floor

- “What makes you think I’m going to help you?”

- Hoshi thought for a second before his face lit up with an idea

- “I’ll trade you! My powers for yours; you can teach me with your intelligence and I can do whatever you want. If you want to me ward off other people, I’ll do that. If you want me to keep you away from that big sun guy, I will! And if you want to hear all the gossip and blackmail, I can listen in for you.”

- Jihoon weighed out the options. If it were anyone else asking, he would have said no immediately, but there was something about Hoshi that got to him

- “Fine. Whatever.”

- A smile etched onto Hoshi’s lips and Jihoon peeked up at him

- “And call me Woozi.”

- As time went by, Jihoon taught Hoshi the basics of math and science and reading and languages. 

- In return, Hoshi would help Jihoon with whatever he needed

- And eventually, Jihoon would ask Hoshi to help him sneak out of their cell

- Jihoon had taught himself how to pick a lock, so all he needed was for Hoshi to tell him when the soldiers weren’t paying attention or just weren’t there

- While enjoying their small bit of freedom from their cell, Jihoon would scour the facility’s layout, finding all of the blindspots 

- The two of them got closer and closer as the years went by

- They had a bond that no one else could understand

- Jihoon and Hoshi would have conversations that no one would expect them to have, laughing and joking around about the strangest things

- They made fun of all of the soldiers and even that young sun that watched over the stars as if he was so much older than them

- One night, they snuck out of their cells with Hoshi’s senses and Woozi’s lock picking skills

- They laid on top of the roof of their cell’s building and Jihoon taught Hoshi as many constellations as he could find

- At one point, they both quieted down and enjoyed the peacefulness of the night

- Jihoon never thought that he would end up like this, he always assumed that he’d be on his own for his time in the facility

- But nonetheless, he was glad to have Hoshi in his life

- So, when Hoshi turned to him and asked about his name, Jihoon explained everything

- He told Hoshi everything about his life before he got to the facility

- He explained that his mother was disgusted by him and abandoned him at the last moment, so he didn’t want anything that connected him to her. He wanted a fresh start

- So, Hoshi explained that he thought the same thing

- Hoshi revealed his dark and twisty tragic origin that gave Jihoon a new perspective of him

- And at the count of three, they both revealed their birth names

- “Lee Jihoon”

- “Kwon Soonyoung”

- Though Jihoon cherished his friendship with Hoshi more than anything, he also appreciated how much it benefited him

- Hoshi had brought Jihoon out of shell and helped him meet more people

- He would teach more and more of the affected, something no other ‘brains’ could be bothered to do

- But, he did have a small price; for education, he would trade the affected anything that they had or could get

- They were small miscellaneous objects, but to Jihoon, they each had a different use for him. They were parts of a bigger plans 

- So throughout the years, Jihoon was teaching more and trading more

- His collection started to overflow and eventually, he was caught with a couple of them

- The soldiers took him away from his cell and threw him into a separate room in the west building

- It was an old and dirty cell with shackles attached to the corners of the wall

- The room had obviously been used before with other prisoners with the dried blood scattered all over the place

- The soldiers threw Jihoon into the corner, giving him a small flash of a memory from when he was first captured by these people

- He was shackled to the corner of the wall and the soldiers beat him like they never had before

- When the soldiers were done with him, his whole body ached and he was spitting blood out of his mouth

- There were bruises all up and down his abdomen and on his face. Some of the soldiers had some sort of rings on their hands that placed cuts all over his face

- He was sure that they had broken-or at least bruised-a couple of ribs 

- They left him shackled to the corner for a few days before finally unlocking the shackles and throwing him back in his cell

- Hoshi immediately came to his aid with worry all over his face, but Jihoon assured him that he was fine

- Months later, when Jihoon’s bruises and cuts were mostly healed, one of the soldiers decided to pick a fight with him while working

- “Wow, so the little star is all healed and ready to work, isn’t he?” 

- Woozi kept his eyes on his pickaxe since they were working on construction that day

- “Hey, pipsqueak! Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

- Jihoon continued to swing his pickaxe, ignoring the words of the soldier with a blank look on his face

- He knew it wasn’t the smartest idea, but he couldn’t just give in to what the soldier wanted

- “I said look at me!” 

- The soldier grabbed a fistful of Jihoon’s shirt and pulled him towards his face

- “Tch.” Jihoon smirked slightly. “I didn’t know you wanted my attention this badly.”

- “Why you little-”

- And suddenly, the soldier gasped and let go of Jihoon, turning his body to the side

- Jihoon turned to look in the direction that the soldier was standing and saw the sun that he and Hoshi had made fun of so many times

- The sun’s hands glowed as he manipulated the soldier to grab at the baton at his belt and swung it around at his colleagues

- Jihoon was bewildered

- Why was the sun helping him?

- He wanted to say something as a soldier crept up behind the sun with a syringe in her hand, but he couldn’t bring himself to move

- So, Jihoon watched as the sun’s glow went away and fell limp into the soldier’s arms

- As they dragged the sun away, Hoshi ran over to Jihoon’s side

- “Are you alright? Why’d the sun defend you like that?”

- Jihoon stared after the soldiers as they dragged the body away

- “I have no idea”

- Weeks passed and the sun was nowhere to be seen

- On one of Hoshi and Jihoon’s nights outside of their cell, Hoshi stopped in his tracks as they passed a building

- “What? What is it?” Jihoon hissed, ducking down and looking around for any soldiers that could possibly be around

- “I can...I can smell him. The sun.”

- Jihoon relaxed and rolled his eyes, “Okay, so what?”

- “I think you should thank him when he gets out. He stood up for you, and no one in his ranking has ever done that.”

- Jihoon scoffed. “As if”

- Another week passed and the stars were stuck with cleaning duty in the halls of one of the facility’s buildings

- Hoshi had badgered him and lectured him on and on about why he should thank the sun and how he was probably exactly like the two of them

- Of course, Jihoon shot down any attempt that Hoshi had in making them talk to the sun

- Jihoon was smart of course, so he knew better than to fraternize with the very people that could have him killed

- And he didn’t want to admit it, but Jihoon was kind of scared of the sun

- He saw firsthand what the sun could do and didn’t want that to happen to him or Hoshi

- But of course, Hoshi knew of Jihoon’s fear. 

- And Jihoon knew that he knew, which pissed him off

- So, when Hoshi then threatened to stop talking to Jihoon for a month unless he thanked the sun, Jihoon quickly gave in

- He wanted to show Hoshi that he wasn’t so scared of the sun

- And he also couldn’t stand a month without Hoshi

- And so, when they saw the sun again, Hoshi shoved Jihoon towards him

- The entire time he walked towards the sun, Jihoon mumbled about how it was a horrible idea, fully aware that Hoshi could hear him

- When he finally got to the sun, he stared at his mop, an expression with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance on his face

- “Hey.”

- He waited for the sun to answer, but was only met with an unsettling glare

- Jihoon gulped slightly and turned to face the sun, realizing that he wasn’t going to get an answer any time soon

- “I just wanted to uh...say thank you.”

- When there was no answer, Jihoon turned back to his mop, cursing out Hoshi in his mind

- “For you know...that time.”

- He hated how he stuttered in front of the sun. He hated how weak and awkward he sounded. He hated Hoshi for making him talk to the sun. (Well not really)

- The only response that Jihoon got from the sun was a simple grunt and nod

- This guy...how the hell can he be so pretentious?

- Jihoon’s blood started to boil and he let out a scoff before mopping away

- When he looked back and saw Hoshi talking to him, much to his dismay

- Jihoon internally groaned and inched closer to the two, listening in on their conversation to make sure the sun didn’t do or say anything bad to Hoshi

- Listening in, Jihoon learned that the sun’s name was Seungcheol, but he told Hoshi to call him S. Coups, giving him a slight sense that maybe the sun’s situation was like his own

- Hoshi was being his usual self, which gave Jihoon some small sense of pride

- Until, S. Coups uttered the words that Hoshi had only bitterly admitted

- “Kwon Soonyoung.”

- Hoshi was obviously taken aback, making Jihoon’s anger rise

- “W-what?” 

- “That’s your name isn’t it?”

- Any fear that Jihoon had of S. Coups disappeared and was replaced with rage

- He kept his composure as he walked over to the pair and stood in between them

- Shooting an icy glare at S. Coups, he spoke in the coldest tone he could muster

- “His name is Hoshi, just like yours is S. Coups.”

- He turned to his friend and grabbed onto his wrist

- “Come on, Hosh, I told you this was a bad idea” 

- Jihoon dragged his friend away and continued his work like nothing else happened

- That night, Hoshi was helping Jihoon brainstorm different ways to distract the soldiers for his plan

- Jihoon was barely listening to him drone on and on until he mentioned S. Coups

- The two got into a slight bickering argument about how Hoshi wanted to make friends with S. Coups, but eventually, Jihoon gave in

- He watched from afar day after day when Hoshi tried to talk to S. Coups at any chance he got

- Even when he wasn’t the one guarding the stars for the week, Hoshi would manage to find the sun and start conversations

- Eventually, Jihoon got roped into it and realized that S. Coups wasn’t as different as he had previously thought.

- The more time that passed, the more close Jihoon and Hoshi got with S. Coups

- Though, making friends with the higher ranks did come with it’s price

- Jihoon and Hoshi were under close supervision by the soldiers, and were sometimes even hit just for talking to S. Coups

- They were accused of scheming, but they were loyal to their new friend and defended him even if he didn’t know it

- But each time they were hit for something they didn’t do, Jihoon was getting more and more fed up with the place

- Any other time, he would have just accepted it, but now that his escape plan was falling into place, he was just impatient. 

- He just needed the push to put the plan in play

- So one day, it was meal time

- They were all in the dining hall and eating their one tray of food

- While the amount of food they were given wasn’t nearly enough, they still tried to sneak some to S. Coups since they knew that he was a bigger guy and needed more food than them

- Jihoon was a slow eater and Hoshi was always faster, so it was normal for Hoshi to stand up and discard of his food before him

- What wasn’t normal was for Hoshi to bump into one of the soldiers

- Jihoon knew that Hoshi was never clumsy and had faster reflexes than anyone else, so how could he just bump into some soldier?

- His grip tightened on the table as he watched the soldier take Hoshi away, too blind with rage to think any more of it

- Jihoon saw S. Coups walking by, tugging at his gloves with the same feeling of rage painted all over his face

- It was then that he realized it...

- This was the push

- A wave of frustration washed over Jihoon as he realized that he was just outsmarted, but he just let out a small chuckle 

- Of course Hoshi would be the only person who could outsmart him

- So, in a quick movement, Jihoon grabbed onto S. Coups’ wrist and tugged him back, only to have him yank his wrist away

- “You’ll make it worse.” 

- “Then what do you suggest we do”

- Jihoon’s eyes shifted so slightly that only Hoshi would have been able to see it

- It was time to set the plan in motion

- That night, Jihoon searched through all of the things that he collected until he found exactly what he needed

- He stuffed the pack of matches from a healer and a small water bottle of vodka that he got from a water elemental into his pockets as well as a couple of bobby pins from an air elemental at the collar of his shirt

- When he looked out the one window high up in their cell, he saw by the stars that it was 1:30 am

- Jihoon went over to one of Hoshi’s senser friends and tapped on him

- “Could you do me a favor and tell me if you can hear Hoshi anywhere in the south wing?” 

- “Yeah, hold on.”

- The friend walked over to the window and closed her eyes, trying to focus and listen for Hoshi’s voice or breathing pattern

- After a moment, the friend opened her eyes again

- “He’s not in the south wing, he’s in the west.”

- Jihoon’s eyes windened

- The west was where the punishments for bad crimes were...why would they send him there for bumping into someone?

- When it was time, Jihoon made his way to the cell door and picked at the lock, looking around to make sure no soldiers were around

- He slipped into the shadows, carefully walking through the path that him and Hoshi took with the most blind spots

- He finally got to the meeting spot and waited a couple minutes for S. Coups, timing the pattern that the soldiers were walking

- When S. Coups finally arrived, he waited for the soldier to turn and yanked him onto the path that he mapped out

- They finally got to the tree that was Hoshi’s idea to use as a distraction

- Jihoon grabbed the bottle of vodka and started dumping it all over the tree  before lighting a match at it and running with S. Coups

- The entire time, his mind was on auto drive. He had gone over the final plan with Hoshi over and over again, so he knew exactly what to do down to the number of steps. 

- His only focus, though, was to get Hoshi out of the torture cell

- He led S. Coups into the west building and found Hoshi shackled to the corner of the room, letting out pained screams as the music that played in the headphones got louder

- Jihoon knew what they did to the sensers when they were punished. He knew that the soldiers used their own powers against them. And Jihoon was infuriated

- How dare they do that to his closest and bestest friend?

- Jihoon picked at the locks of Hoshi’s shackled and got his best friend out

- “W-Woozi, is that you?”

- “Yeah Hosh, me and S. Coups. We’re here.”

- “Get me...get me out of here.”

- The fear and desperation in Hoshi’s voice was something that Jihoon never wanted to hear again

- So, the three of them ran out of the building with Jihoon leading the way

- Hoshi was just recovering from his senses being compromised, but he was still able to warn the two when soldiers were around

- When they got to the front gates of the facility, Jihoon told S. Coups to go into the control room to get the gates open

- Once S. Coups was out of sight, Jihoon whirled on his friend

- “Hoshi, why did you do that?” Jihoon’s voice was aggressive. He was so frustrated as to why his friend would get himself tortured. “Why the hell did you do that?”

- Hoshi gave him a pained smile, the one that Jihoon hated the most 

- “You needed the push”

- When the gates started to open, S. Coups sprinted out and the two followed

- Once they were out of the walls, Jihoon couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face or the laughter that slipped from his lips

- They were finally freed

- Eventually, they started a new clan and Jihoon became the mastermind behind everything

- This clan became his new family, and he knew he wouldn’t need to fight for their approval

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being An Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 3

Summary: You, a fantasy-loving LARPing human from Earth, got dropped into a fantasy land that seems familiar to you, but you had no recollection of it. Lord Fabulous Elvenking gave you three days to find the portal that would take you home with the aide of Blue-Eyes and a host of Elves, but what you found instead was the portal was closed for another thousand years. On the way back, you saved Legolas's life, prompting Thranduil to grant you freedom, and after, you finally realized where you were; Middle-Earth. Thranduil summons the council, which is made up of powerful wizards and Elves, to decide what should be done with you...

Chapter No.: Chapter 3

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I think Pippin's song matches the reader's situation very much, which is why I use it so often. I mean, your character fell from everything they know, their "home," and now they can't go back, but now they have this whole magical world and life ahead of them... Grief and sorrow, but things to look forward to in the future.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, The fucking Silmarillion, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

When you woke up, you found yourself blinded by a stupidly bright light that singed your retinas off. "What the hell?" You shielded your eyes as you tried to find the source.

Oh.

It was Thranduil, and beside him, Legolas, the two so bright they could be hung on your porch as bug-zappers.

Ohhhh...

You were in Middle-Earth. Right. Without any memory of it except for bits and pieces. You did remember that you'd watched the movies so many times that you could've recited each line in your sleep and then some, but you couldn't remember anything but what pieces you randomly dreamed of or remembered, which were already starting to fade.

"Hi. Can I help you with something in my half-starved state?"

Blue-Eyes desperately fought a smirk. Thranduil was less impressed. "My son tells me you lost consciousness because of a lack of sustenance. What sort of repayment is that for my favor to you, may I ask?"

You cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse the fuck outta you, Thrandy, but I just learned about a week and a half ago I'd never see my family again. Forgive me if I got upset."

Blue-Eyes turned his head away, trying really hard not to laugh...

"Also," You went on with a forced cocky smile, "I just learned that I'm in Middle-Earth. Where I come from, all this-- the palace, the land, even your fancy Elven toilets-- were created by some old guy called J. R. R. Tolkien, collectively referred to as 'Jrrt.' Now, I don't remember a goddamn thing except for bits and pieces of dialogue and song, even though I knew the stories by heart."

Thranduil and Blue-Eyes-- who was no longer trying not to laugh-- eyed each other suspiciously. "You knew of this place in your world?"

You nodded. "It's very well-known. But, everybody thinks it's fiction. Unaccesible. And be glad about that, too, because if there were a well-known way to get here, there'd be lots of war, new diseases, and this place would be turned to shit, too."

Thranduil stared at you for a minute, before abruptly turning to Legolas. "Son, I am off to the throne room. I shall summon the council at once."

You waited until he left to ask what that meant.

Blue-Eyes smiled slightly. "Meaning, he is not quite certain what should be done with you. The council is made up of some of the oldest and wisest of Middle-Earth, including the wizards and those of my kin, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien, and Elrond Half-Elven of Rivendell. Do any of those names sound familiar to you?"

You shrugged. "It doesn't matter if they sound familiar or not. I never remember what anybody looks like. I just get an eerie sense of deja vu."

Blue-Eyes raised an eyebrow. "Deja... Vu?"

You sat up more, rolling your eyes. "It means having a sense of familiarity, like, really strongly. Whatever. Tell me who the wizards are."

Blue-Eyes sat at the end of your bed. "The most powerful of the wizards is Saruman the White, who resides in Isengard, on the edge of Fangorn Forest and the Gap of Rohan. The second is Mithrandir, who is most commonly known as Gandalf the Gray by most folk. The third is the much less-known-of and reclusive Radagast the Brown, but I doubt my father will request his presence; he dislikes his excessive behavior." He raised an eyebrow. "Have you heard of them?"

You nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah. So if I'm an Elf, do I like, have to learn how to act like an Elf, or should you let these really important people decide what to do after they've seen who I am?"

"The latter," Blue-Eyes specified, "But it would still be beneficial to learn Elvish. It should take them quite awhile to arrive; between now and then, you should learn as much of it as possible, after I've given you a tour of Mirkwood."

You made a wheel-like motion with your hands. "After I've eaten and taken a bath, I know."

Blue-Eyes patted your leg. A jolt of electricity shot from where he touched you. What the hell? "Good," He stood and started to leave the room. "I will leave you to your own; there is food on the nightstand, and after, a bath across the bridge there," He pointed, and as you looked across the way seen Elves.

Bathing.

Blushing, you looked to Blue-Eyes wildly. "I-I'm supposed to take a bath with other people."

Blue-Eyes frowned in confusion. "Do you not, from your world?"

"Um, no. We all bathe alone. Where I come from, one's own body is considered... Private, to everybody except your doctor or significant other."

"Oh, I see. I could have a private bath prepared for you, if you wish for it," He answered with a smile. "Even here, we may want to bathe on our own to relax. It would not be a problem." He sneered down at you. "I would not want you bathing in the shared springs anyway. You'd dirty the whole lot of them."

With a very childish glare, you stuck your tongue out at him, causing him to have the oddest look he'd had yet. You'd noticed something about him; he had the unique ability to create a range of dynamically comical expressions. "What are you doing?"

You took up a dramatically serious tone. "I am expressing the 'fuck you' gesture in an immature and childish manner used worldwide, even among the youngest." With that, you stuck your tongue out again.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Very well, then, Sairen, your bath will be ready for you when you are finished with your meal. I will send someone for you in an hour, if that suits you."

"That suits me perfectly fine, but I beg your fucking pardon, was that 'fuck you' in Elvish?"

Legolas grinned. "Not at all, mellon. It means 'fiery' in our tongue."

"Okay." A wry smile spread across your face. "That I can deal with. But what does 'melon' mean? Both you and Tauriel have called me that so far."

Legolas smiled as he began to close the double-doors, though what they did to block you when the room had only two-foot tall walls, you had no idea. "Mellon. It means, 'my friend.'"

A warm feeling blossomed in your chest as he smiled-- for once, genuinely-- at you. You found yourself smiling back as he closed your doors. When he was gone, your smile toned down a bit, and you took a long, deep breath.

You were still upset. Very. On the inside, you felt torn to pieces. You figured it would be a long, long time before you grief lessened, if it ever did. But now that you knew where you were... It was different. You were sure of something. Where you were, and the fact that the Firemoon Portal would only open every thousand years. If you went back then, you'd already be connected to this world, and everyone in it. If time passed the same, your family would be gone, and you'd be mortal again, without a way to wait for the portal to reopen so that you could return to your new friends here.

But... You knew your family. They'd never forget you, and never stop grieving your loss. But, if they thought you might be somewhere better than Earth, and there was no way back... They'd want you to be happy. They'd want you to make a new life. They wouldn't want you to waste your life starving yourself.

You'd miss them... More than anything...

But for now...

You moved the silver platter on your nightstand to your lap, and started eating.

Home is behind...

The world ahead...

And there are many paths to tread...

***

"No, no," Tauriel corrected you. "Mae govannen."

"Mae govAHnnen."

Tauriel bit back an exasperated sigh. "Well... You're close enough."

You'd been in Mirkwood for nearly a month now, not counting the days of your imprisonment and searching for the portal. You wondered what made Thranduil (Who you still called 'Lord Fabulous' on occassion.) release you and treat you as an Elf, and as it turns out, it was Blue-Eyes himself.

Speaking of, you hadn't seen him in days... He kind of... Disappeared. There was still talk of him, and no one seemed to be worried, so you weren't; for Elves that lived forever, you bet anything that he had princely exploring and regular adventuring to do to keep him occupied.

Around the time he left, Tauriel approached you and asked if you knew any Elvish. Aside from sairen and mellon, you knew less than zero. Apparently, it was considered good Elven manners to at least speak a greeting to guests in their own language, despite what Leggy had said. Meaning, to different members of the council, you had to speak a greeting in Quenyan-- which was different from Sindarin, the most common Elvish language-- Common, and Sindarin. You'd memorized the lines, but it was the pronunciation that really befuddled your non-billingual ass.

Now, you'd pretty much gotten the Quenyan greeting: Mae govannen. It meant well met or something along those lines, but you had to add Lord Elrond Half-Elven of Rivendell. I am at your service. Which was much longer and much more complicated. All in all, it pretty much came out to, Mae govannen, Cundo Elrond Peresta-Elda mi Arcimbele. Nanye ketya veume.

English (Common.) was equally as long: Greetings, Gandalf the Gray, Mithrandir, and Saruman the White of Isengard. Welcome to these halls. I am at your service as well, should you need it.

And lastly, to Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, you had to say the most: And ana lye, Heri Galadriel and Cundo Celeborn, elen sila lumenn omentielvo. Nanye aistana et ketya toled.

And to you, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, a star shines upon the hour of our meeting. I am blessed from your coming.

It was all a mouthful. A regal, elegant mouthful, but a mouthful that your tongue had trouble forming. In addition to all the greetings, you had to address them each in order; first Elrond, then the wizards, then Galadriel and Celeborn at once.

They'd arrived a few days ago, but you hadn't actually been summoned yet. You wondered what Thranduil had told them about you so far. He seemed like the type to exaggerate and make shit up: They're nothing but an abomination! They almost killed Legolas! They tried to kill me! They're dangerous and should be restrained! They toilet-papered my throne room!

The elaborate horns blowing signaled something evidently important; Tauriel's face lit up. "Mellon, it is Legolas! He has returned!"

Despite yourself, your heart jumped like a schoolgirl's. Blue-Eyes was back! "Really?! How do I look? Does it look like I've been taking care of myself?" Legolas would kill you if you weren't. Over the weeks, the blue hair dye had left your hair, returning it to its [h/c] color, even if you did still spike it up-- you'd been an outcast your whole life, so having short spiky hair when everybody else had long, flowing hair made you feel at home. You were dressed in dark browns, nearly blacks, in an outfit very similar to a tunic over leggings, knee-high boots, and all finished up with a long jacket, closed with Elven buckles.

"You look fine, [Y/N]," Tauriel assured you absentmindedly, and the two of you trotted down the many, many stairs and bridges to get to the massive front doors of the palace.

Thranduil and a host of other Elves were greeting Legolas, who looked as if he'd been in Sparkle Land for the last couple weeks. His clothes were in prestine condition. His hair was perfectly plaited away from his face. He wore a faint smile, as if whatever he'd been doing hadn't been stressful at all.

You and Tauriel arrived just as Thranduil finished speaking. "And you failed to locate them?"

Legolas held himself regally. "My apologies, my king. It will not happen again."

Thranduil glared down at him. "I should hope not. You will leave again in three days' time, after you have properly greeted our guests." As Thranduil spun on his heel to leave, Blue-Eyes bowed, rising up again as he seen you and Tauriel.

"Tauriel," He said, his face lighting up. She bowed slightly; apparently Elves didn't hug. He grinned snarkily when he seen you. "And [Y/N]. Last I saw you, your hair was strangely sky-hued."

You scoffed. "You can't even say sky-colored? You have to say sky-hued? Stupid Elves and their fancy ways. Good to see ya anyway, Blue-Eyes, even if you're a priss."

"I believe you mean prince."

You laughed, but it faded when he turned to Tauriel and started speaking in Elvish. He lead her away, talking, leaving you on your own. Your face fell. You wanted to tell him that you knew some greetings. You wanted to say you wanted to go with him when he left again. And the fact that you were already alone here only amplified the feeling of... Jealousy? Disappointment?

You watched them leave for a minute, before deciding you'd take a walk in the Mirkwood-- maybe it'd clear your mind. You nearly rammed into an Elf in turning around. "Whoops."

"Nothing to apologize for," the Elf said; thankfully, they'd caught on to Earth slang and understood you most of the time, instead of just assuming you were insulting them. "Thranduil Elvenking has summoned you to his councilroom. The council awaits you."

Your mouth went dry. All the feelings about Legolas ignoring you vanished in an instant. Oh shit. "I-I don't know where that is. You'll take me there, right?"

"Of course," Said the Elf, and lead the way through the twisting halls. He stopped before the one room of the palace that was actually sealed off from the rest besides the dungeons, with doors almost as big as the ones that lead out of the palace. "Here you are. They're waiting for you." He smiled slightly. "A word of advice for the introductions: let King Thranduil introduce you to them before you say your greetings." You bowed slightly in the Elven way as you thanked him.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous as hell. Meeting a bunch of people, really important people... You'd met some important people before: soldiers were the main ones you'd met, aside from a couple of astronauts. Other than that...

Taking a hugely amplified deep breath, you opened the door.

Inside was a wide winding staircase lit  by gorgeously-crafted Elven wall sconces of stained glass and copper metalwork shaped into vines. Every step seemed to echo, and when you reached the top of the staircase, your breath was ripped from you. It was a pavilion. A pavilion in the one place you loved above all else: the sky.

Rails kept anybody from falling off, and it was roofed, so that you could come up here even in the rain. Birds chirped melodiously, and from here, you felt as if you could see all of Middle-Earth. Behind you was a huge mountain range-- you'd never seen mountains before. They were beautiful, snow-capped, and gigantic; the Misty Mountains, obviously. All around you, stretching as far as you could see south and a long way east and west and north, was the Mirkwood, and to the west and north were vast plains, hills, and valleys. Leaves, gold and copper, swirled around the pavilion, giving it an ethereal look. To the west, where you were facing, was a silver lake, wide and glittering in the midday sun. Standing tall and proud beside it was Erebor, home to the King Under the Mountain; currently, Thror. You didn't know why that name seemed so important, though.

You must've turned around in at least a dozen three-sixties, trying to take in what you were seeing. Even if you didn't remember most of it, here you were. You were seeing it, for real and for true, in person, in the home of one of the most revered Elves of Middle-Earth. It seemed unreal, like at any moment, you'd wake up.

A bird, queerly tame, flitted up by your face and up into the rafters; she carried food for her young, and you watched them with a smile, still in disbelief of the views.

A long sigh snapped you out of your trance. Shit. Thranduil waved at you absentmindedly. "Are you daft, vermin? I just introduced you to the council."

"O-oh--"

"Now, now, Thranduil," A wizard chuckled warmly; he wore blue and gray robes, with an immense beard and long hair. Gandalf. "If they really are of another world, then they are obviously stunned by the land. Have you not shown them their new home properly?"

Thranduil nobly facepalmed.

Meanwhile, you realized that it wasn't just Gandalf sitting there smoking his pipe.

Another wizard, this one with long, straight white hair and an equally perfect white beard, in blinding white robes with a white staff: Saruman the White. You didn't know why you got bad vibes from this guy. Beside him sat another Elf, casually, an ankle on his knee and an elbow resting on his higher leg to hold up his head with two fingers. He wore robes of brown and purple, and his long brown hair was held back with a silver Elvish circlet. That had to be Elrond; he looked amused, so you felt kind of relieved. On his left sat a guy who practically glowed, with long blonde hair and white and blue robes. Celeborn. Standing off to the side, with a kind smile like Gandalf, in a billowy white dress with a beautiful Elven circlet made of fine chains and teardrop jewels was a woman, a she-Elf, putting off wisdom-vibes stronger than Gandalf's. Her curling golden hair went well past her waist, and she held herself regally. Out of everyone in this room, she seemed to be the oldest, and the most knowledgeable.

Your Elvish greetings flew right out of your head for a minute, before Thranduil reintroduced you. "This is the council. With us are wizards Saruman the White and Gandalf the Gray, Lord Elrond of House Rivendell, and Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien. Councilmembers, this is [Y/N], the one who appeared from a portal we knew nothing of-- and if I must repeat this once more, I swear to the Valar, I shall throw you off of this pavilion."

Gandalf actually chuckled at that, as did Elrond, while Celeborn cracked a smile. Galadriel seemed to find this all regally amusing. You bowed like Tauriel had showed you. At least, you'd mastered that part. "Mae govannen, Cundo Elrond Peresta-Elda mi Arcimbele. Nanye ketya veume. Greetings, Gandalf the Gray, Mithrandir, and Saruman the White of Isengard. Welcome to these halls. I am at your service as well, should you need it. And ana lye, Heri Galadriel and Cundo Celeborn, elen sila lumenn omentielvo. Nanye aistana et ketya toled."

Elrond looked impressed. "Well, Thranduil, you have certainly trained them well." Thranduil watched you with wide eyes. He hadn't known of your lessons. Suck it, Lord fucking Fabulous.

Celeborn bowed his head. "Your pronunciation is nearly perfect. Well done, young one. However, I doubt you know much else of our tongue yet, so for your sake, we shall converse in Common, if that suits you."

You almost said, It does. Thanks! But that sounded too disrespectful. "Thank you very much." You smiled, and took a seat when Thranduil waved you to the only empty one aside from Galadriel's.

Saruman started off with a wary tone. "Thranduil tells us you come from another world. Is this true?"

Out of the corner of your eyes, you seen Thranduil roll his eyes. "Yes, sir. I come from a place called Earth."

The councilmembers exchanged glances. "That sounds strikingly similar to Middle-Earth," Said Gandalf, and raised an eyebrow. "Are there any similarities between this world, and yours?"

You shook your head sadly. "Not anymore. My people ruined it. There aren't many places like this anymore."

Saruman stiffened. "Then what happens if your people find the portal? Surely, they will try to ruin this, as well?"

You made a face. "They would, yeah, but my people are also really stupid. It'd take a stupid accident and a lot of chance to fall through that portal again, and Legolas said that it only opened once every time a Firemoon happens."

"Legolas?" Elrond asked, curiously, as if this hadn’t been mentioned before. Of course it hadn’t.

You nodded, unsure of why you suddenly had to fight a flush at the mention of his name. "He helped me find the portal with some of his Elven friends when I first got here. We found writing-- he said it was used before the time of even Gondolin. I don't know when that is; is that a long time ago?"

"Very," Replied Gandalf. "Odd... A portal of that magnitude would have to be created by wizards of some sort, especially at such a time..."

A thought suddenly popped into your head. "Some people think we have magic," You piped up, and all eyes were suddenly on you. "But it never works. Not effectively. Just standard hocus-pocus and the power of suggestion. But hundreds of years ago, there was this really mysterious guy who they say really did have magic, which he used to help others. His name was Merlin; he looked kinda like you, Gandalf. But he was in another country, where I come from; where I was when I fell wasn't anywhere near where he traveled."

Saruman narrowed his bird-like eyes. "Then what relevance is this?"

"Because if there was one wizard like you guys in the past," You pointed out, "Why couldn't there be others? There's so much we don't know about history-- we're more intent on wiping out what we don't understand. What if the wizards traveled between worlds and time? Hell, they could be you guys from the future, and it just hasn't happened yet."

"They have a point, Saruman," Gandalf agreed, much to your relief. You didn't think they'd understand the concept of time travel.

"There is nothing we can do about the portal now," Elrond said decisively. "It is closed, and if we tried to destroy it, we could only do damage. It is an easy enough position to defend; should an army come through, they'd have only one entryway."

"Says who?" Saruman challenged. "There could be other portals we do not know of, some that people have not had the misfortune of falling into yet. How do we know that this invader is not a spy to seek out these portals and prepare them for war?"

You fought a sigh. Damn this small-minded son of  a bitch... You tried to think of something smart ass to say, but nothing fit the situation.

"They are not, Saruman." Lady Galadriel's voice was sudden, light, and smooth, like honey. It radiated outward with an undeniable power that could make anybody listen to her. "Their thoughts do not lead there." Shit. I mean crap. I mean dang. Mind reader. "They are afraid, and worried... They miss the family they left behind, but they are willing to make a life here, since they have no way of returning."

You nodded. "My thanks, my lady."

Lady Galadriel bowed her head in response.

"Build a life?" Saruman inspected you carefully from where he sat. "You are nothing but an infiltrator. Why should we allow you a place among the citizens of Middle-Earth?"

"It does not have to be here," Thranduil pointed out, and your heart shot to your ankles. "You have an unfortunate habit of collecting needy strays, Elrond; why don't you take them with you when you return to Rivendell?"

Elrond shot him a glare.

Um, I think the fuck not. Lady Galadriel, tell them I say no! Tell them I want to stay here! You thought of the views, and of... of Blue-Eyes...

"Perhaps they should be isolated," Saruman said. "Somewhere they cannot concoct any mischief. Rohan is quite strict, as Gondor is watchful. Either would suffice. Perhaps centuries of isolation in Isengard itself would keep them in line."

"Maybe the Shire would be good for them," Gandalf said. "The hobbits are quite peaceful little creatures. Then again, if isolation is what we are looking for, then Laketown couldn't be better. Or Dale; the dwarves don't let anyone commit any mischief from Erebor."

I don't want to leave...

"Lothlorien would perhaps be suitable," Celeborn added. "Or, maybe even the mines of Moria. I do not have much love for dwarves, but they would be kind enough to them."

"What," Interrupted Galadriel, "Does the subject of our conversation think of this?"

Silence fell. You took a deep breath. "I... I'd like to stay here." You seen Thranduil's head turn slowly to look at you, and you could hear him thinking, the fuck did you just say? "Please, my lord."

A tense silence fell over the room. Finally, Thranduil sighed. "I do not want you here, invader. You would have to prove your loyalty and skill beyond a shadow of a doubt."

You perked up. "Legolas is going on some super-secret missions, right? Maybe I could go with him. You trust him of all people to tell you the truth about me, right? So maybe I could prove myself then."

Thranduil thought about this for a moment. "Legolas is hunting for the orcs who are trying to overtake our borders. He found them, but he let them escape, even though they were a small group. He is leaving in three days with reinforcements; you may join him."

You almost visibly sagged with relief. Almost.

"However," Thranduil added, "If I find his report unsatisfactory, you will go with one of the councilmembers and leave Mirkwood. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Elrond nodded to you. "You would have a home in Rivendell. It is the last safe haven of the Elves in Middle-Earth." He gave Thranduil a pointed sideways glance. "My people are welcoming and kind. They would be glad to have you." With a slight roll of his eyes, he gestured to Gandalf. "And of course, Mithrandir..."

Gandalf looked excited. "I would take you on my journeys with me, if you so desired. First, I would take you to the Shire. Very nice people, those hobbits. And of course, dwarves would be next."

"I thank you both," You smiled slightly, and you truly were grateful, but... "Then it is settled," Thranduil said authoritively. "Elrond, Gandalf, you are welcome to stay here until Legolas returns."

"I would be grateful," Elrond said, but Gandalf defiantly snorted. "I, dear Elvenking, already have arranged for lodgings in Laketown. Send for me once they arrive, so that I may know what I must do."

You felt buoyed a little. Gandalf didn't one-hundred-percent think you'd fail. And you wouldn't. You'd kick ass. You'd save Blue-Eyes's ass again. You'd come back triumphant, and Thranduil would have to let you stay.

Wouldn't he?

Thranduil left first with Elrond and Celeborn, followed by Gandalf and Saruman closely. Galadriel looked out over to the lake, all shiny and pretty and with her hair billowing majestically. "Why do you wish to stay among those who do not wish for your presence?"

You were stunned by the question. "I-I don't know... I've lived all my life an outcast... The hated one... I've just grown used to it. Being somewhere where people would be nice to me makes me uncomfortable. But there are a couple of people nice to me, and that's enough."

Galadriel was silent for a moment. "You think of him."

"Uhhh..."

"The prince."

You did blush this time. "I-I don't--"

"You are one of the Eldar now, mellon," Galadriel stated slowly. "Eldar only fall in love once. I have known many who have been broken by that which is unrequited. Do not be one of them."

You thought about her words for a second. "I don't love him... I don't even have like a crush on him or anything..." I've only known him for a couple days, overall.

Galadriel nodded slightly into the breeze. "Sieze it, if the chance arises. But if it does not, or if you do not think it will... I advise you to seek for a home elsewhere." You got the gist. If I do fall for him on my mission, and I know it won't go anywhere... Leave, even if I succeed.

Your heart was heavy at that thought, but you knew she was right. "Thank you, my lady."

"You need not thank a friend for giving advice." She smiled at you, and you left the pavilion with a deep bow, trying desperately not to let your heartstrings fall apart.

Tag List:

@tesserphantom​ @thedragonghostofmordor​ @hauntedsiriel​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @naryamirie​ @legolasdeserveslove​ @escapingthoughtsandsecrets​ @sagabriar​ @brushwood-souls​  @taurlel​

If anybody wants to be tagged, just let me know!

[letterboxd]

More Foghorn: The Robert Eggers Q&A.

“I wanted to be able to laugh at misery.” —The Lighthouse director Robert Eggers answers your questions and ours about what he’s wearing on Hallowe’en, being cool with memes, and paying homage to Mary Poppins.

The Lighthouse, out now in select US cinemas and opening nationwide this weekend, is the follow-up to Robert Eggers’ feature debut The Witch, one of our highest-rated films of 2016 and the third highest-rated horror of that year.

Similarly, The Lighthouse is firmly in our top ten narrative features of 2019 and is absolutely tearing up the Letterboxd reviews section with reactions like “Eggers holds nothing back in this film. He takes things far past okay and doesn’t apologize for any of it,” (Logan) and “If a bearded, bulging-eyed Willem Dafoe talking like a pirate for one hundred and ten minutes, shot on high-contrast orthochromatically filtered high-resolution black-and-white celluloid that brings out every follicle and pore doesn’t deserve five stars, I simply don’t know what does” (Jonathan).

The film’s success lies in a combination of obsessively detailed production design, singular technical choices (“a black-and-white movie in a stupid aspect ratio”, as Eggers told Filmmaker magazine), the superb acting partnership of Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson as lighthouse keepers on a far-flung rock, a borderline-ridiculous amount of foghorn in the soundtrack, and—in spite of the characters’ miserable circumstances—a hysterically funny script.

When we spoke to Eggers’ brother and co-writer Max at TIFF, he told us that the writing partnership was “a perfect fit; we trust each other, and I think that’s the big thing about writing teams is you gotta trust each other”. Their brotherly relationship naturally enabled the film’s dialogue to head into comedic territory, even as the story itself descends into hallucinatory horror. “Comedy is about that. You’ve gotta be able to be honest and trust yourselves. We didn’t know how it was going to play but, thankfully, I think the fart jokes work.”

Not only do the fart jokes work; the poetically trippy 1890s dialogue became instantly meme-able. It was no surprise, then, that when we invited the Letterboxd community to contribute questions for this interview, many of them dwelled on the script. But first, with Hallowe’en fast-approaching, we needed to know what Eggers had planned.

A24 has put out a helpful guide for those who want to do Hallowe’en as a 19th-century lighthouse keeper. You’re in the middle of The Lighthouse promo tour, but have you managed to plan yours? Robert Eggers: Hallowe’en was my favorite holiday growing up and I made many elaborate costumes, but now that I’m doing this, I will agree with Marilyn Manson where he says: “Hallowe’en is my day off”. It’s time for everyone else to catch up!

At TIFF, we spoke with your co-writer and brother Max about your collaboration. Letterboxd members Kevin and MrRabbit7 are interested in what the writing process was like with Max. Does that relationship allow more of an ‘anything goes’ approach? I know my brother, so it’s easy for us to write together. My movie that was leaked in the trades a couple days ago [The Northman] I also wrote with another writer. I’m finding, as much as I like writing scripts on my own, it’s fun to collaborate. It’s actually joyful to pass the drafts back and forth and see how you’re lifting each other’s work up.

We had many questions (including from John, Austin and Tyler) about The Lighthouse’s dialect and vernacular. Can you tell us about the work you did in constructing dialogue in unfamiliar languages, including the sources you consulted? It’s a lot of research and there is some quoting the sources directly. There’s much more of that in The Witch, where sentences remain intact. There’s very few intact sentences from the research in this film. There’s certainly many turns-of-phrase. When I’m looking at my primary source material from the period, I’m writing down vocabulary words in my own thesaurus that I can turn to.

I tend not to write in modern English and then translate the dialect. I try to write in the dialect even as I’m learning to do it, so the thesaurus is organized more [as] moods and ideas. I’m washing my eyes with words and hoping something turns up that works as I’m moving forward. You’re studying the sentence structure and trying to find the rules.

Thankfully with The Witch, because it was written in early modern English, which was a golden age of English writing, there were plenty of books available to teach me what the rules were. In studying the various Puritans, I could find how different people broke the rules and did things their own way. With this film it was much harder to find that, but eventually my brother came across the work of Sarah Orne Jewett. She was writing in coastal Maine dialect, interviewing working people to get their dialect. My wife found a thesis written by Evelyn Starr Cutler where she provided rules for different dialects—where are ‘r’s omitted and where are ‘r’s added, so on and so forth—so we could create consistent dialects for both characters.

“Why’d ya spill yer beans?” “Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?” Everyone—even A24’s marketing team—has taken to the film with meme-able gusto (exhibit A: these goofy Lighthouse emoji). How does it feel to have your deeply researched script torn apart in this affectionate, ironic way by internet culture? Does it make you hesitate in your approach to writing and directing these types of lines? (This question brought to you by those who quoted those infamous questions in response to this AMA.) No, it’s cool with me. The Lighthouse was designed to be a black comedy and not just have moments of black comedy. The Witch takes itself very seriously, but I think that there’s something kind of film student-y about how serious it takes itself. I’m glad that people can make PlayMobil and Lego playsets as jokes. You need to be irreverent, and with The Lighthouse I was exploring misery again but I wanted to be able to laugh at misery. Werner Herzog talked about it like, you’re on the floor laughing, you know?

You and your brother both have deep roots in theater. After listening to your A24 podcast with brother-in-arms and Midsommar director Ari Aster, Solly F wants to know which playwrights you look up to, and who was particularly useful in your approach to The Lighthouse? I like Shakespeare [laughs]. I don’t know if he was particularly helpful for this, but he’s pretty good! Clearly [Harold] Pinter, Sam Shepard, and evoking the name [Samuel] Beckett is almost worse than evoking the name Shakespeare, but you know, they’re good at what they do, and for this two-hander about identity it was impossible not to think of those playwrights.

Many members are curious about the films that inspire you and, more specifically, your most influential Ingmar Bergman films. So, which Bergman were you looking at for The Lighthouse? Also, Evan McKenzie dares to ask, “Given the chance, which Bergman film should you like to remake?” Well, I would not remake a Bergman movie because that’s just insanity! Even though I dared to talk about remaking Nosferatu—which also probably does not need to be done—so I guess, yes, I am insane. Fair enough question. Obviously Persona and any of his chamber dramas would be the ones I would be thinking about here.

There’s a shot where Willem is knitting and Rob is smoking in the foreground, which Jarin [Blaschke, The Witch and The Lighthouse’s director of photography] and I referred to fondly as our Hour of the Wolf shot. Of course we’re using a much wider lens than Bergman ever would have done and had a different approach to lighting than he did, so it doesn’t seem all that Bergman-esque in the end, even though it was our homage.

Youssef asks: which foreign-language films are your favorites, or provided you an entry point into the non-English language arthouse? The arthouse films that I saw in high school were ones that just happened to be in my local video store. Only one of them is foreign language, The City of Lost Children, but that, Eraserhead, and Brazil were three movies that I can think of that made me ask: “Oh you can do that? Wow!” Julie Taymor’s Titus also was another film from high school that made me realize that there was something other than—and not to speak disparagingly—Spielberg and Tim Burton and whatever was more easy to see in rural New Hampshire cinemas.

Robert Pattinson and Robert Eggers on the set of ‘The Lighthouse’. / Photo: Chris Reardon

The Lighthouse has an ambiguity that has led to many of our members questioning its genre. Even Ari Aster wasn’t sure when he mentioned the film in his Q&A, and you’ve referred to it as a black comedy here. But we have to ask, for the sake of our community’s sanity: is The Lighthouse a horror movie? I don’t see it as a horror movie. But I’ve definitely spoken to people who get my intentions that think it is. So maybe? I don’t care what people call it.

It’ll probably make our top horror lists, if that’s okay. That’s fine.

Let’s not tease too many hypotheticals, since this question is based only on your two-feature output so far, but there is significant interest in whether you’ll branch out into other genres, specifically sci-fi, and other time periods, specifically the future. Well again, pointing to the leaked Viking movie, that ain’t a horror movie. And I’ve written other movies that aren’t horror movies. It’s just The Witch and everything that I’ve actually gotten made so far have been horror or horror adjacent. That’s just how it’s been—fine, happy about it.

Never say never because I am interested in sci-fi. I feel like generally when people are trying to ask big questions and challenge current philosophies, to look at things that are bigger than ourselves today, it’s always done with sci-fi. So for me, I’m enjoying doing that kind of stuff in the past just because that’s not how people often use historical movies today.

Writer-director Robert Eggers.

We love asking filmmakers this and Filbert wants to know: what are your go-to comfort films? The movies you’ve seen the most? Anything that could surprise us? The Big Lebowski I’ve watched a lot. We have a little bit of a nod to it in The Lighthouse when [Pattinson] throws their shit off the cliff and it hits him in the face. It’s pretty damn close to the ashes of Steve Buscemi. I think it’s not going to surprise anyone that I’ve seen The Shining a zillion times. I’ve seen Mary Poppins a lot, and we have a little nod to it with our weather-vane shot.

By the way, when I’m writing it I’m not thinking ‘this is the Big Lebowski scene’ or ‘this is the Mary Poppins scene’. I’m just kind of writing and you say, “well, I know where that came from.”

Finally, the 2010s are drawing to a close and many of us, including Max and John, would like to know: what are your essential films of the decade? I’d have to think about it more, but recently I thought Trey Edward Shults’ Waves is great, Hereditary is great, Parasite’s great… I’m sorry, I haven’t seen Parasite [laughs]. That’s a microaggression, I meant to say Burning is great. Anything by Ciro Guerra [director of Embrace of the Serpent and co-director of Birds of Passage] is great. Yeah, there’s a few.

‘The Lighthouse’ is in US cinemas now. All images courtesy of A24.

[whiskeyworen]

Aspect IV: Of Inspiration and Communication

Inside Vigil Keep, weeks before “Bound By Blood”

"Soldier Sonnya Danae; Package for you." The delivery person looked at his clipboard tiredly, before turning it around with a quill in hand for her. "Sign here please."

"I wasn't expecting any packages." Sonnya pointed out, scrawling her name in Asuran swirls on the line. It didn't matter that the form was written in Krytan; names are names. Besides, she'd seen people just scribble nonsense on the line before.

The delivery person shrugged slowly, and handed her a brown paper wrapped parcel. "I just deliver'm, miss."

As he turned to walk away, Sonnya retreated to her quarters, closing the door and locking it. She barely realized she'd done it; her attention was entirely on the mysterious package in her hand.

She sat down at her desk, placing the package on the table top, just...staring at it. Who could have sent it? There was an address on it from somewhere in Lion's Arch, but that might not mean anything; as long as you put an address from Lion's Arch, no one would bother looking it up. It might not even exist.

"Well, time to find out what's in this thing." Sonnya declared, and ripped the package open. Her eyebrow rose slightly as she pulled out the small, hand-sized comm device. It kind of looked like the standard Pact communicator that unit leaders and commanders had, but it was almost half the size.

The structure and layout were different as well. Instead of an On and Off button being the only keys, there was an entire set of number keys, some symbols she didn't recognize, and a few adjustment dials. Embedded into the top left corner appearred to be a micro-golemite eye. "....the hell?... why would a communicator need to see? Is it a golem or something?" She mumbled quietly, turning the device over in her hands. Satisfied there were no other secrets to it, she flicked the 'On' switch. She expected to hear one or another commander somewhere, talking to their companions; Pact comms were always open to anyone who had a comm, so the idea of private conversations was kind of an illusion.

Instead, there was silence. After a few seconds, the micro-golemite eye raised from its alcove, did a quick scan of everything in front of it (including Sonnya) and settled back into its groove. While the eye turned off, apparently the device finally activated. "Hello? Is this one Sonnya Danae I am speaking to?"

Sonnya waited for the no-doubt dozens of confused responses from others in the commnet, before realizing none were coming. So she hesitantly replied. "Uh, yes. This is Sonnya here. I received this comm unit in the mail?"

"Yes! Then it worked as I had planned! I am very pleased to make your acquaintance!" The voice on the comm was quite enthusiastic, but crystal clear. "I was unsure how to properly reach you, and this seemed most appropriate. I regret we cannot meet in person, but I am...on task in Elona at the moment."

Sonnya gave the comm an odd look. "Oh...kay?... Sorry, but I'm honestly surprised no one else has broken in to ask how I'm comming, or who you are? There's no way everyone turned their comms off."

"Oh, this comm is on a secure channel." The voice replied brightly. "Sadly, Pact comms are pretty basic. They are designed to be used as a single network, with everyone connected. I do not believe any research was ever done into solitary, private commlinks. At least, not until my Father suggested it and the rest of the crew figured it out. I helped of course."

"I'm...sorry, but I'm still really confused." She scratched her ear, placing the comm down on the table top. "So the comm is on its own, private line or something? The only people who can talk and hear are you and me?"

"Unless we cut someone into the signal, or they cut themselves in somehow, yes." There was a thoughtful pause in the line. "Of course, they would have to decrypt about a hundred and forty-four thousand lines of code to even FIND the signal. There's a lot of radio, ley, and Mist spectrum to work with. If we cut them in manually though, it would be a simple matter of dialing their number, provided we knew it, into the comm and then pressing the little button that looks like three dots connected by lines."

"I saw that, but didn't know what it was." Sonnya admitted, before shaking her head. "Wait wait. Okay. Hang on... WHY are we even talking? Why did you send a comm to me?"

"Oh! Right! I was so pleased with having made contact, that I placed the reason for it in the back of my memory!" Sonnya was pretty sure that the person on the other side of the comm was clapping their hands, though she couldn't hear the sound. "I wished to speak to you about the construction of your wonderful powered-armor suit, and your integration of technical devices into your biological structure!"

Her jaw dropped. No one knew, apart from the Warmaster, knew anything about her implants, or her suit. No one...except maybe Tenna. If Tenna even knew. "How... I mean, what makes you think I have anything like that? I don't know what you're talking about."

The person on the other end laughed pleasantly. "Oh please. There were recordings from all angles in the battle against that Shatterer. The Charr Legions were recording because they wanted to see the result of their new weapons. The Priory was recording for archives' sake, and the Order of Whispers and the Vigil were recording for references for future battles! Your little stunt might not be explainable to them, but I assure you, I understand exactly what was going on."

"You...have me at a disadvantage then." Sonnya frowned, crossing her arms. "My...implants won't work with anyone else. I only ever designed them to work with me."

"Oh do not worry about that. I am not interested in that. Not really." There was a smile in the voice. "I am planning something that requires... let us call it a very fine integration of biological and mechanical components. I wished to pick your brain, as it were, for ideas on how to smooth out some of the issues I have encountered in my simulations. Basically, I want you to double-check my ideas, and make sure I have not done something foolish or impossible."

"So, you don't want to steal my tech or anything like that? You just want to ask questions on how to improve your own? Your own tech that is similar to mine, but less refined?"

"Precisely."

"...Well, what did you have in mind then?"

***

Several hours later

"... so the circuitry integrates with the implants directly via surface-to-surface interface." Sonnya explained. "I can't give you the specifications of the implants themselves, but based on the ideas you've thrown at me, this should allow for a faster information rate and a tighter connection."

"I see! Thank you for the insight." The voice on the comm acknowledged. "I believe you're right. While I have no intention of using your implants, or trying to extrapolate them based on available information, I do believe I can manage to decrease reaction times by half at least, and muscle-load by a factor of five! I am sure if I work at it a little more, I can coax even more out. My investigation into magitech-neuromuscular modification is still rudimentary, but I'll soon have a few prototypes to test out."

"Glad to be of service." Sonnya smiled. She took a sip of beer from the bottle she'd gotten from her personal cooler. "Do you have any ideas on what you'll do with it all? I mean, you weren't looking to make a suit at all it seems. Or rather, the powered armor suit is almost a secondary item to whatever you're making."

"Publically, when it all is arranged, I will be setting up the sale of fully-working, personally customized prosethetics. The market will be for those individuals who, through birth or injury, are suffering from lack of limbs. I understand there's a similar market in Rata Sum, but it is small because everything is based off Golem-limb construction. Which, if you ask me, Golems are remarkably...brutish."

Sonnya shrugged. "True. But the refinements in magic circuits and power systems is making them more powerful and intelligent by the day. Shape doesn't really mean much, does it? Just look at that golem that kid in Dragon's Watch had. What was her name again?..."

"Taimi." The voice supplied reluctantly. "And yes, her Scruffy models are aesthetically pleasing, and very unique with their ability to be a conveyence AND a powered mecha suit, as well as a fully functioning autonomous golem...but they are still not the angle I am going for."

That brought a frown to the guardian's face. "I still don't know what you mean. The only other examples of golem-type things I know of are like, the Exalted, which AREN'T golems but kinda look like them, the Jade Constructs which are closer to Elementals in nature... and the Watchwork nightmares."

"Oh yes... the Watchworks. I know them well." The comm replied quietly and cryptically. "Very interesting designs, those."

"Scarlet was a maniac." Sonnya said flatly, frowning before draining her beer. "Her Watchwork creations made Steam creatures look tame by comparison. And we still have to wipe out infestations of THOSE in Lornar's Pass every year! They just keep making more of themselves!"

There was a pause, a silence over the comm. Then, "...Perhaps I should investigate how they replicate? If I can figure it out, it might come in handy for self-repairing prosthetics."

"Be my guest. Just don't come crying to me when a Steam Brain zaps you with lightning for coming too close." She laughed. She could still remember seeing Priory researchers bounding across the ice, backsides singed while an angry Steam Brain chased them, lightning arcing from its central eye, while the entire time it swore at them in machine-language. She assumed it was swearing of course. Wouldn't you, if some know-it-alls tried to shove a stick in your ear? Or whatever a Steam Brain has?

"Duly noted. Thank you again, Miss Sonnya."

"Well, it was my pleasure. It's not often I can talk shop with anyone." Sadly truer than Sonnya would like to admit; most soldiers in the Vigil were more concerned with using things rather than making things.

"....In that case, allow me to make you an offer." There was a nervous note in the voice's tone. Sonnya had the impression that, had someone been present, they would have been talking behind a cupped hand, afraid someone would hear. "In a week's time, my ship will dock in Lion's Arch at airdock 42 in the Aerodrome. If you show up, say, around noon, I will let you see the secret project I have been working on. The one that your information has come in quite handy in its completion."

A clandestine meeting at a secured, out-of-the-way airdock? Sonnya had flown on ships from the Aerodrome before, and remembered how it was laid out; Dock 42 was the furthest out, on the backside of the Aerodrome, facing Bloodtide Coast. It was so far out that merchants refused to park ships there because it would take so long and was so complicated to get things on board. Why would anyone willingly park there? "Uh, sure... A week from now, noon, Lion's Arch, Dock 42. Sure thing."

"Excellent. Perhaps when you see it, you will be able to offer a more hands-on, practical examination. You might see some things that need improvement from the prototype to a production model."

"Alright. Sounds fine to me!"

"Good, good. I must go now. Needs of the ship are building up on my task-list. I need to focus on that for a while."

Sonnya picked up the comm, surprised and a little worried. "Wait, before you sign-off or whatever... When I get to your ship, which ship am I actually looking for? And who should I tell them invited me?"

There was a pause, and then the voice replied, a smiling, almost devious tone to it. "... The ship is called the Forsaken Aspect. You just need to ask to see Alice."

A chuckle rolled from the comm. "I assure you, the person you meet at the dock will know exactly who you need to see, and why. Just trust me."

"Okay... Well, I will see you then... Alice?"

"See you then, Sonnya."

[salaciouscrumpet]

Whumptober Day 22

Whumptober Day 22 Prompt: “Hallucination”

As is becoming my norm I had a few different ideas to take this prompt in, but I ended up deciding that one of those ideas is big enough to be put in one of my future books, so I’m holding on to that one. Instead I decided to use this prompt to share a little backstory.

Introducing yet another new character who, for reasons that will immediately become obvious, won’t be featuring too heavily in the actual series.

CW: suicide (not a main character), suicidal ideation, complicated feelings about suicide, non-graphic references to childhood sexual abuse, victim blaming, homophobia, implied alcohol abuse, foul language

I don’t think it’s a particularly dark ficlet, even for Whumptober, but given the triggering nature of these issues I thought it important to caution for them.

Characters: Luke, Danny 

Once upon a time the rocky outcropping on the north end of the island had been Luke’s refuge. It was far enough away from the house that his parents couldn’t be bothered to come find him there unless he was in real trouble, and his younger sister Alice didn’t like the cold breeze that always seemed to come in off the lake. Milena was too young to wander off on her own, so she was easy enough to escape. The only person who looked for Luke there was Danny, and that was okay, Luke idolized Danny. 

Luke had idolized Danny. 

“You’re dead,” Luke said, facing out towards the water as his brother joined him along the rocks. The lake was especially choppy, dark waves topped with whitecaps. The water would be cold if he were to wade into it, and the air would be even colder when he got out. 

“Yup,” Danny agreed, sounding ridiculously complacent about it. He also sounded … young. 

After a moment of silence Luke turned and faced his brother, sucking in a startled breath when he saw him. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting – something gruesome, maybe, given that Daniel Kandarian Jr. had been dead for twenty years – but it wasn’t the young-looking person beside him. Danny had been three years older than Luke, and in his mind Luke always thought of his brother as being perpetually older than him, even as his memories of what his brother had looked like remained untouched by the years. Danny had died at sixteen, however, and while that had seemed so much older to thirteen-year-old Luke, thirty-four-year-old Luke recognized him as the child he’d been. And yet, still, Danny somehow seemed older than Luke. 

“This isn’t real,” Luke said, turning away again. He was glad Danny didn’t look the way he should look after being buried for two decades, but at the same time it cut something deep inside to see him there, that face so familiar and yet so painfully young. Sixteen had been too young to die; even twenty years later, Luke wanted to scream at the unfairness of it. 

“Nope,” Danny agreed, still cheerful. He’d always been a little shit; he’d just seemed cooler to the younger brother who had idolized him. He gestured vaguely out towards the water, and for a brief moment Luke thought he saw … something … out beyond the horizon. Glimpses of a hospital room, machines with too many wires and flashing lights, and a set of anxious faces bowed over the bed. Then it was gone, and there was nothing but the waves and the skyline, dark and forbidding. 

“Something’s wrong with me.” Luke frowned out at the water, trying to remember. There had been a patrol, he recalled that much. He’d been with Kate and Gin and … one of the new recruits, a young man whose name eluded him at the moment. Carter? Kerry? Carson? Something like that. They had stumbled across a nest of fledgling demons and then … Nothing. It was all blank. His body ached, though, all through his joints and muscles, and there was a sharper pain in his side. He felt cold and sore and unbelievably tired. He glanced at Danny out of the corner of his eye and saw his brother watching him intently. “Am I dead? Dying?” 

Danny shrugged. “Beats the hell outta me, dude. This is your dream.” 

“Right.” Luke sighed. “Great.” 

He turned away from the water, unsettled by the vague glimpses of an outside world that he kept getting beyond the waves. In the opposite direction there was nothing but trees, although he knew that if he were to walk further in he would soon come to his parents’ house near the middle of the island. He hadn’t been ‘home’ in over a decade, not since his father had disavowed him. He imagined not much had changed; his parents had never been big on changing. He’d learned that at a young age, and both he and Danny had paid the price for it in their own ways. 

“I never really forgave you, you know,” Luke said softly. He shifted restlessly, one foot to the other, and the fact that he could hear the wind through the trees but not the sounds of his booted feet scraping against rock reminded him that he was dreaming, or maybe hallucinating. It seemed his brain could only fabricate so much of the world around him; anything more, and the details just weren’t there. 

“Yeah, I know,” Danny replied, his own voice just as soft. He didn’t sound apologetic, exactly, but that might have just been because he, too, was a fabrication of Luke’s mind, and Luke didn’t have many memories of his older brother sounding genuinely sorry about anything. 

“For a long time I thought maybe they’d done it. I know Dad had the coroner’s report changed so that your death was ruled an accident, but I thought … maybe it wasn’t you. That it hadn’t been you who’d done it to yourself.” 

Danny let out a startled laugh. “That’s fucked up, dude. You’d rather think Mom and Dad killed me, than I killed myself?” 

Luke nodded once, jerkily. It was fucked up, but as a devastated thirteen-year-old he couldn’t understand why his older brother would have done something so selfish. How Danny, who he adored and worshiped, could just leave him like that. It wasn’t that it had been easier to believe their parents had killed him – or had had him killed – it was just that it was impossible to imagine Danny had done it to himself. It was only years later, as an adult, that Luke could look back on the situation and realize that although he hadn’t seen it at the time, his brother had been profoundly sad and troubled as a teenager. What had made it particularly confusing for Luke at the time was that in the days leading up to his suicide, Danny had suddenly started seeming happy and hopeful. Up until the moment that Danny was found hanging from a belt in his bedroom, Luke had thought he was finally, finally getting his big brother back after months of Danny being distant and cold. Adult-Luke recognized that brief period of hopefulness and happiness as a sign that his brother had made the decision to kill himself; child-Luke had had no idea. 

“They didn’t kill me,” Danny said. His tone was still unbelievably soft and gentle. “You know that, right, bud? I killed myself.” 

“Yeah,” Luke acknowledged. He did know, now. 

He wanted to ask why. Why had his older brother ended his own life? But the reality was, this wasn’t really his older brother standing here, and any answer this version of Danny could have given him would have to come from Luke’s own mind. And while Luke wanted to pretend that he didn’t know, the truth of the matter was that he suspected a number of things had played a factor in his brother’s decision to end his own life, and he would never truly know which reason was the real reason. Maybe they all were. 

Was it because their parents had put too much pressure on him, the same as they had done to Luke – to all of their children, really, except for Sam, who had been born six years after Danny’s death. Sam had been born and was instantly the golden child who could do no wrong, and even after Luke’s disavowal from the Order he had remained mercifully untouched by their parents’ abuse. Danny had been the Heir, the Kandarian who would go on to join the Knighthood and continue bringing glory and honour to the family name. He would marry well, and he and his wife would produce strong Incarnate children who would also carry on their legacy. 

Only Luke suspected that his older brother had been gay and trying to hide it, knowing full well that it wasn’t accepted within the more conservative members of the Order – including their parents. That knowledge had prompted Luke to hide his own interest in boys later on – that, and a persistent fear that Sleswick had made him be that way – and focus instead on his equal interest in girls. He had been able to hide that he was bisexual, but he didn’t think Danny had been able to successfully hide his homosexuality. Luke remembered the camp their parents had sent his brother to as a teenager, the camp he’d hated that had seemed nothing at all like the summer camp Luke had gone to with Ben and Adam. He would never be able to prove it, but he suspected that ‘camp’ had actually been a gay ‘conversion therapy’ camp, and that their parents had known about Danny and had tried to change him. 

Danny had come home from camp and a week later he’d been found hanging in his bedroom. He’d strangled himself with his belt, had tied himself up from the rafters. He hadn’t died right away, but had lingered on in the hospital for three days before his parents had agreed to let the doctors pull the plug and harvest his organs. Luke had never been able to step foot inside Danny’s bedroom again. 

At the time Luke had been so hurt and angry and confused. He had wanted to believe their parents had had something to do with it – and perhaps, in a way, they had, at least by contributing to the psychological factors that had led to Danny’s suicide. Luke had been working up the nerve to tell his older brother about Martin Sleswick, secure in the knowledge that even though everyone else might have thought Luke was just making it all up, Danny would have believed him. Danny would have known how to make the abuse stop. Danny wouldn’t have blamed Luke for it, said that he asked for it, said that he knew Luke had wanted it and had enjoyed himself. (All the things Sleswick had told Luke, when Luke had asked – begged – for him to stop and to leave him alone. It was Luke’s fault for leading him on. Luke’s mouth might have been saying no, but it had been obvious his body had wanted it. Look at the mess you’ve made of yourself, of me. We don’t want anyone to find out about this, do we? To know what a disgusting slut you are?) 

“He was an asshole, you know that, right?” Danny’s voice caught Luke by surprise, and he sucked in a sharp breath, looking at his brother in shock. “None of what he did to you was your fault.” 

“How did you …? How …?” 

“This is a dream, dummy, remember?” Danny grinned at him, but there was kindness and sympathy in his eyes. Luke realized, in that moment, that he and Danny had the same eyes. Was that a trick of memory, that he was simply seeing himself in his older brother, or had they always looked so similar to one another? “I know what you know, dude.” 

“Then you know I don’t really believe that,” Luke replied, stung. 

Danny let out an indignant snort. “I just said it, didn’t I? So that must mean at least a little part of you believes what I said.” 

Luke supposed that made a kind of sense, even if most of the rest of him still privately believed what Sleswick had told him decades ago had been true. He knew, intellectually, that Martin Sleswick had been grooming him almost from the moment he had arrived on the scene, and that his parents’ abuse and frequent absences made him a perfect target for a predator like him. Luke had been isolated and lonely and scared, and he’d been raised to shoulder more than his fair share of the responsibility – so why not the burden of initiating a sexual relationship with a man thirty years his senior? If he could be responsible for killing monsters and protecting humanity, then why not also be responsible for seducing an older man (even though at nine, when the abuse had begun, he’d had only the most fleeting notion of what sex even was, and no idea at all about the concept of seduction – or sexual grooming. He’d just been grateful that this kind, friendly man who everyone else respected and admired was paying attention to boring little him). 

If there was a part of him that knew not to blame himself for Sleswick’s abuse, then that part surely came in the form of Charlie and Kate. He’d gone through a period in his teens when he’d slept with every girl and woman that expressed interest in him in an effort to prove to himself that he wasn’t gay and that what he’d done with Sleswick hadn’t damaged him. Then, when he’d gone to university in Toronto – far away from his parents, his family’s fucking legacy, and a small town where everyone knew everyone – he’d gone all-out to demonstrate to himself that he could enjoy sex in spite of everything, in all its forms. Exposed to anonymous hookup culture for the first time and far away from anyone who could judge him, Luke had spent almost his entire four years of university drinking and sleeping his way through life. If someone so much as batted their eyes at him or offered to buy him a drink he’d go home with them – hell, some nights he’d just disappeared into the nearest washroom or out into the back alley, only to pop out again later in search of his next fix. Partying and sleeping around hadn’t made him feel much better about himself, his sexuality or his past, but it was the first real time he had ever rebelled against his parents and his upbringing, and while he’d thought he was sticking it to his mother and father what he was really doing was trying to destroy himself. Then he’d run into a mouthy redheaded bartender who didn’t care what his last name and who didn’t put up with any of his shit, but who liked him for who he was, not what he could do for her or to her or for the connections he had. (The fact that Kate was half-demon only served to entice him further, and in the beginning being with her had been a way of thumbing his nose at his parents.) And Kate didn’t really give a crap if he got his business degree or went on to become a famous politician, but she did care that he was throwing his life away, and so with her support he had just … stopped. Stopped fucking around, stopped partying, stopped drinking, stopped trying to self-destruct. He had graduated – by the skin of his teeth, but it still counted – and, stupid degree he’d never wanted in hand, followed Kate around Toronto like the lost puppy he’d been. She’d quit her job bartending because he’d made the decision to stop drinking and she didn’t want to risk his sobriety, they’d both found work, they’d found a place together, and for the first time in twenty years Luke was his own person. 

Then the Scions of Unforgiven had found him, the Knights of Oberon had kicked him out, and he’d joined the Alliance. And the hot Asian guy who’d always just been Kate’s best friend saved his arm for him and things had … sort of fallen into place. Kate had been the first step towards reclaiming himself, but Charlie – who’d grown up with an abundance of love and support, and who seemed determined to spread that wholesomeness around – had been the one to really spur Luke’s recovery and self-acceptance on. Kate had always had only a very marginal interest at best in sex, but Charlie had been raised in a very sex- and body-positive manner, and it had been eye-opening to see his approach to life and love. There was no slut-shaming in Charlie’s world, no kink-shaming, no doubts about his sexuality or whether or not it was right or wrong. Kate had taught Luke that sex didn’t have to be the big deal he thought it was; Charlie had made him appreciate that it was like any other pleasurable thing, something that could be enjoyed in a healthy manner, rather than an all or nothing deal. Kate had been like the first drops of rain after a lengthy drought; Charlie was like sunshine after a long and dreary winter. Both very vital and necessary to Luke’s growth, but in very different ways. 

“They’ve been good for you,” Danny commented, spurring Luke out of his thoughts. Well, maybe not exactly out of his thoughts, since Danny was just a figment of his imagination too, but still. 

“Yeah,” Luke agreed, turning back out to the water. The sun seemed to be coming up on the horizon – which made no sense, because his craggy refuge had been at the north end of the island, not the east – and he could see that faint … something … that was off in the distance more clearly. There was a beeping sound that didn’t belong out on the rocky shoreline of a small island, and the gentle murmur of familiar voices. 

He glanced back at Danny, who was standing by the water, his hands shoved in his pockets. The longer he looked at his brother the younger he seemed, and it brought to mind just how young Danny had been when he’d died. Sixteen. He’d had his whole life before him and yet he’d chosen to end it. Luke had gone there himself, more than a few times; he’d come really, really close, and even without necessarily meaning to there had been moments while out on patrol or in the midst of a skirmish where he’d thought about how easy it would be to just not fight. It wouldn’t even really be suicide, then, if he’d just let the monsters kill him. He could stop, and his family could rest easy in the knowledge that he’d gone out like a Knight of Oberon, falling in battle to an enemy. 

And then he’d snapped out of it, and fought harder, because he remembered what it had felt like to lose Danny, and he wasn’t doing that to anyone else – not even himself. 

“You don’t think it’s weird?” he asked, after a moment. “Me and Charlie and Kate?” 

“No, man.” Danny shrugged, grinning broadly. It made him look even younger, and Luke realized that had more to do with the fact that he primarily remembered Danny smiling like that when he had been younger. Danny, in the last few years of his life, hadn’t had much cause to smile. “I’m inside your head. You don’t think it’s weird, so I don’t think it’s weird.” 

“Huh. Makes sense, I guess.” Most people who found out he was in a polyamorous triad with Charlie and Kate wanted to know the details of how it worked. Don’t you get jealous? How do you make it work? Do they take turns? Most other people just wanted to make sure he knew they were doing it wrong, that it was supposed to be one man and one woman – or, grudgingly, two men together, but absolutely not three people, that was just wrong. There had only been a few people in his life – almost all of them other members of the Alliance – who simply took his relationship with Kate and Charlie as normal and none of their business. There had been some growing pains in the early stages of their relationship, just as there would have been with any relationship, but for the three of them it just worked. 

Danny snorted again, laughing quietly to himself. He faced the water, peering intently at the sun breaking across the waves. The skies were clearing and the water was growing calmer, even though that stretch of the lake was never calm. 

“You should go back,” Danny said, speaking out to the water. “They’re waiting for you to wake up.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Luke shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a woman’s voice, and thought it sounded like Ardyn, low and calm and reassuring. He looked at his brother again. “I kinda wanna stay here with you, though. I miss you, Danny.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Danny echoed him. “But Luke, dude … You know I’m not real. They are. And they’re waiting for you.” 

Luke opened his mouth to reply, to say something about how it had been twenty years and he still thought about his brother every day, but when he turned to face Danny his brother was gone. The air was still and the sun was out in full force, glistening over the waters he’d known since he was a little child, the lake he’d grown up on. His body ached and his heart was sore, but the incredible exhaustion that had seeped into him seemed to be dissipating. The noises around him were shifting, changing from waves lapping up against the rocks and wind blowing through the leaves to the beeping of medical equipment and the whispering of voices around him. 

Luke gazed out at the water one last time, then opened his eyes.

[dr-m-r-ma]

I’m Here

Genre: angst Warning(s): mental health (depression, panic attack) Rating: PG-13 (language) Group: Monsta X

Summary: (Between The Edges EXTRA) Kihyun and Hee-jin have exchanged contact information, and continue to chat almost every day. They both know they feel something special for the other person, but due to the distance, they’ve left it open for the most part. Kihyun checks up on Hee-jin, making sure she’s okay and if she’s not, that she tells him what’s going on.

Disclaimer: This is 100% fictional and my own story. It is unrelated to the actual events and real persons of Monsta X and Starship. Hee-jin Park (박희진) is an original character created for this fanfic. Parts will be written in Korean with English translations. I did not major/study in English/Korean, nor was I ever strong in English/Korean grammar, so there will be grammatical mistakes. This fanfic is written in third person and past-tense for ease of writing.

“형… 아직도 연락해?” (Translation: “Hyung… are you still contacting her?”)

Kihyun looked up from his phone and saw a concerned I.M. and Minhyuk. He was actually editing a photo he took with his camera on his phone, but he raised an eyebrow at I.M.’s question, knowing instantly who the youngest was referring to. “왜? 안돼?” (Translation: “Why? Am I not allowed to?”)

It came off a little aggressive, and I.M. immediately shut down, while Minhyuk rolled his eyes. Minhyuk huffed, “야, 그냥 물어보지도 못해? 근데… 반년이 지났는데 계속 그런 사람이랑 얘기하면 너한테도 안 좋을것 같아.” (Translation: “Hey, we can’t even ask? But… I don’t think it’s good for you as well to continue talking with someone like that for more than half a year.”)

“앗-- 형, 그건 말 안 하기로 했잖아!!” (Translation: “Ack-- hyung, we decided not to say that!!”) I.M. lightly punched Minhyuk. Kihyun’s eyes darted between the two boys and instantly, he could feel his jaw lock in frustration.

For the past half year, Kihyun and Hee-jin had kept in contact with each other. Kihyun made the effort to talk to Hee-jin almost every day, asking how her day was, how she’s feeling, if she wants to talk, or simply sending a photo he took with his camera. She once expressed feeling calm after seeing his photos, so he often sent photos of music video sets, soothing landscapes he came across with his members and his own selfies.

Even after arriving back in Korea, he was haunted by Hee-jin’s glassy eyes that night. Even after half a year, he is reminded of those eyes, and every time the image comes up, Kihyun rushes to text her, making sure she is still… there. The other members viewed it as an unhealthy relationship. Though Kihyun and Hee-jin never set clear lines in their relationship, it was obvious to everyone that Kihyun felt some strong feelings for Hee-jin and Hee-jin also depended on Kihyun to some degree. While they didn’t know how much Hee-jin depended on Kihyun or what exactly she felt for him since there was too great of a physical distance between the two, they could see Kihyun falling deeper and deeper. Whether or not their current relationship could develop into a romantic one was something only Kihyun would really know.

However, Minhyuk, in particular, disapproved Kihyun even continuing to talk with Hee-jin. Having seen the unstable state of Hee-jin that night, Minhyuk didn’t want Kihyun to be shaken up and affected by someone like that. It wasn’t that he had anything against people with a weak state of mind, but that he was also spooked by that night and believed talking with someone who had that severe of depression would eat away at Kihyun’s mind. He felt bad, but being an idol meant prioritizing their work over other things, sacrificing certain things and using time wisely. Kihyun was their main vocalist and Minhyuk saw Hee-jin as Kihyun’s weakness caused by pity.

Minhyuk expressed this to Kihyun once and Kihyun threw a massive fit, causing a rift between the team. Though Shownu and Wonho told Minhyuk to butt out of Kihyun’s business and pulled the team back together, Minhyuk never seemed to understand the extent of Kihyun’s patience and always went too far. Kihyun knew he was also extra sensitive whenever someone said something about Hee-jin or him talking to Hee-jin, but he felt that he was one against the rest of the members. Being cornered like that didn’t make him any less defensive.

Kihyun growled, “신경 꺼. 아이씨-- 내가 나간다.” (Translation: “Don’t bother. Ugh-- I’m going to leave.”) With that, he grabbed his jacket, wallet and phone and headed out the door.

As Kihyun snapped some photos of trees that had started to bloom nearby, he felt his phone vibrate briefly. When he looked at his phone, however, it stopped vibrating and only let him know that he had one missed call.

Eyes widening at the name attached to the missed call, he scrambled to unlock his phone and immediately called back. The call continued to ring on the other side, and Kihyun nervously bit at his nails. ‘제발 받아주세요…’ (Translation: ‘Please pick up…’)

“여...여보세요?” (Translation: “Hello?”) The voice on the other side sounded strained, as if it was difficult to respond.

Kihyun called out, “희진씨, 괜찮아요?” (Translation: “Miss Hee-jin, are you okay?”) He worried about the weak and strained voice on the other side -- it was shaky from the beginning and he could hear her breathing heavily.

“...”

Alarmed by the silence, Kihyun called out more urgently, “희진씨, 제 말 들려요? 괜찮아요?” (Translation: “Miss Hee-jin, can you hear me? Are you okay?”)

“.........휴… 지금 좀 괜찮ㅇ..괜찮아지..ㄴ것… 같아요…” (Translation: “..................whew… I think I’m fee… feeling...a bit… better…”) Hee-jin’s voice hitched, and Kihyun closed his eyes to focus on hearing her side a bit more clearly.

Despite what she said, he could hear her breathe in a shallow and erratic manner. As she held back her voice and attempted to muffle the sounds, Kihyun could tell she was trying to cover up the sound of her crying. He clutched his phone tightly and in a low voice, he calmly directed her, “숨 들이쉴수 있어요? 들이쉬면서 하나, 둘, 셋, 넷까지 세고… 숨 참고… 그다음에 내쉬면서 하나, 둘, 셋, 넷… 다시, 들이쉬고 -- 하나, 둘, 셋, 넷…” (Translation: “Can you breathe in? Breathe in and count to four -- one, two, three, four… then hold… then breathe out and count one, two, three, four… again, breathe in -- one, two, three, four…”)

A breathing exercise he learned from online, Kihyun instructed Hee-jin to calm her down. It seemed to work, and her breathing slowly returned to normal. While he was glad he could help her, he also felt immense pain for not being able to be with her in the moment. How he wished he could hold her tight, like last time, and keep her close as he calmed her down in person.

*Sniffle*

Hee-jin coughed and softly said, “고마워요… 그리고 죄송해요… 공황 발작 중… 무모하게… 기현씨에게 전화했어요… 너무 당연히 기현씨에게 전화해서 저도… 놀랐어요… 죄송해요.” (Translation: “Thank you… and I’m sorry… I recklessly… called you… during my panic attack… I called you so naturally that even I… was surprised… sorry.”)

Kihyun smiled, wishing she could see his smile, and replied, “아니에요, 멀리있어도 제게 기대도 되요. 그리고… 울어도 되요. 괜찮으니까 약한모습 저한테는 보여줘도 되요.” (Translation: “No, it’s okay, you can lean on me even with this distance. And… you can cry. It’s okay, so you can show me your weak side.”)

Hee-jin let out a small chuckle. “전 맨날 약한모습만 보여주는데 뭘 더…” (Translation: “I’m always showing you my weak side, so what more…”)

“처음 만났을때 생각나요?” (Translation: “Do you remember when we first met?”) Kihyun asked. He sat down on a bench and looked up wistfully at the trees starting to bloom. “첫 만남은 낮 이었죠? 그때 이상한 남자들 모욕들도 참았잖아요. 우린 그때 참으면 안 된다고 그랬지만, 지금 생각해보니까 그렇게 힘들게… 버티고 견디는거였더라고요.” (Translation: “Our first meeting was daytime, right? You endured insults from those weird guys. At that time, we told you not to endure such things, but now that I think about it you were just… doing your best to endure and withstand.”)

*Silence*

Well, not exactly complete silence. Kihyun could hear her soft breathing from the other side. He continued, “그때 약한모습 안 들킬려고 더 세게 나왔잖아요. 제 도음도 거부하시고…” (Translation: “You came off even stronger to hide your weak side. Even rejecting my help…”) Kihyun paused, to give her a chance to reply, but only hearing her breath again, he took it as a sign she just needed time to recover. He continued to chatter away, hoping his mindless chatter would keep her mind off of the attack and calm her down even more.

“뭐, 아무튼, 전화하기 전에 오늘 보낼 사진 찍고있었는데 보니까 꽃들이 피기 시작했어요. 사진에서도 되게 예쁘게 나오는데 직접 보시면 더 예뻐요… 아! 언제 한국에 오시면, 제가 가이드 해드릴게요! 한국에 진~짜 예쁜데 많은데 사진으로만 담기가 아까워요. 오시면 재밌는데, 맛있는데 다 데려다 줄게요. 언제--” (Translation: “Well, anyway, I was actually taking photos to send you today when I found that flowers have started to bloom. They look pretty in picture but they’re prettier in person… Oh! If you ever come to Korea, I’ll be your guide! There’s a~lot of pretty places in Korea that are a waste to only see through photos. I’ll take you to fun and delicious places, so whenever--”)

It hurt Hee-jin’s heart to hear him talk about the future, as though she was somehow going to be part of his future. Before he could run far with his ideas, Hee-jin cut in, deflating Kihyun’s excitement.

“그때… 살려줘서 고마워요.” (Translation: “Thank you… for saving me that time.”)

Before he could respond, she quickly continued. “저를 붙잡아줘서 고맙고… 계속 도와주고 얘기 들어주고 힘들때마다 진짜… 구해줘서 고마워요. 이렇게 기현씨한테 많이 의지할거라고 생각 못 했는데… 계속 이러면 안 될것 같아요.” (Translation: “Thank you for holding onto me… and thank you so much… for continuing to help me, for listening to me, for always saving me when I’m going through difficult times. I didn’t think I would depend on you so much… but I don’t think I should continue like this.”)

Thinking back to all the moments she called and messaged Kihyun when she felt herself sinking and all the moments she waited for his soothing photos and words, Hee-jin’s heart ached. She realized she couldn’t forever depend on Kihyun and expect him to pull her up, especially since he was a well-known celebrity. They were just in two different worlds, and it dawned on Hee-jin the absurdity of their current relationship.

‘...어? 무슨… 뜻이지?’ (Translation: ‘...huh? What… does she mean?’) Kihyun frowned, his mind not grasping at what she was talking about. Though he opened his mouth to interrupt, he didn’t even know what to say in response.

“기현씨가 얼마나 착하고 따뜻한 사람인지 너무 잘 알아요. 저같은… 힘든 사람 살려주고 신경써주시고, 동정해주신거, 너무 고마워요. 근데… 기현씨에게도… 다른 사람들에게도 좀 불공평한것 같아요. 저도 제 힘으로 살아가야되니까, 이제… 안 그러셔도 되요.” (Translation: “I know how kind and warm you are. For someone like me… thank you so much, for saving a person going through tough times, for looking after me and for feeling sympathy for me. But… I think it’s a bit unfair for you… and for others. I also need to live on with my own strength, so… you don’t have to anymore.”)

She was clearly speaking in Korean but it all sounded so foreign to Kihyun. What was she talking about?

“아니요!” (Translation: “No!”) Kihyun blurted, as if he pushed the words out forcefully to freeze the moment. He caught himself by surprise, shocked by the force but also unsure of what to say in response. He still didn't completely comprehend and only stammered nervously, “ㅇ아니요, 아니에요… 희진씨 도와준 이유는 희진씨의 눈에 끌렸어요. 눈이… 비어 있었고, 공허하고… 그래서… 외로워 보였어요. 하지만 무엇보다도… 희진씨라서 도와줬어요.” (Translation: “N-no, it’s not like that… The reason I helped Miss Hee-jin was that I was pulled in by your eyes. Your eyes… were empty, blank and… so they looked lonely. But above all… I helped you because it was you.”)

Kihyun paused, only hearing Hee-jin taking a deep breath in. Afraid of her response, he quickly said, “다른 사람이었어도 도와줬겠지만, 이렇게 반년 넘게 계속 얘기는 안하죠. 그러니까 괜찮아요, 계속 ���한테 기대도 되요. 전 희진씨하고 계속 문자 나누고 전화하면서 얘기하고 싶어요.” (Translation: “I would have helped if it was someone else, but I wouldn’t have talked to them for more than half a year like this. So it’s okay, you can continue to lean on me. I for one want to continue exchanging messages and talking over the phone.”)

Hearing his flustered explanation rush through, Hee-jin couldn’t help but tear up. She struggled to keep her emotions in check, since she had just passed an attack. She held the phone away for a bit to calm herself down before mumbling, “지칠거면서… 나도 내가 지친데…” (Translation: “Even though it’s going to wear you out… Even I’m tired of myself…”)

She knew it wasn’t fair of her to say that to him, but at the same time, Hee-jin wanted to give Kihyun a chance to walk away before she held onto him for good. His words moved her and she almost wanted to pounce at the idea of continuing to depend on him. Almost.

She braced herself for Kihyun’s response, but he only said, “지쳐도 같이 지쳐가서 같이 이겨내면 되죠.” (Translation: “Even if I get worn out, we’ll be worn out together, and then we’ll overcome it together.”) He paused, and Hee-jin held her breath to hear the commotion on the other side. Kihyun continued, “그니까… 전 계속 연락할거에요! 일이있다는걸 까먹었는데 이따가 또 연락할게요!” (Translation: “That’s why… I’ll keep contacting you! I forgot I had work, but I’ll talk to you later!”)

He hung up so abruptly Hee-jin looked at her phone in confusion. Keeping his words close to her heart, she stared outside her window and thought, ‘mm… yeah… it would be nice to see those flowers blooming….’

“형! 언제까지 전화할거야! 30분안에 나가야 하잖아!” (Translation: “Hyung! How long are you going to be on the phone for? We need to leave in 30 minutes!”) Jooheon jumped around, pulling Kihyun by the arm back into the dorm building.

*Bzzt bzzt*

희진 (Hee-jin): 5월에 가면 이쁜거 많이 있어요? 13:10 (Translation: Will there be pretty things if I go in May? 1:10pm) 그때까지… 우리 둘이 연락을 하고있으면… 만날가요? 13:12 (Translation: If we’re still talking to each other… until then… should we meet up? 1:12pm)

“당연하죠!!” (Translation: “OF COURSE!!”) Kihyun yelled, unknowingly out loud.

Jooheon flinched from the sudden outburst and stared at him with a weird frown. Kihyun quickly apologized before texting back his excitement.

[ FEW MONTHS LATER ]

“나 나간다!” (Translation: “I’m going out!”)

The door slammed shut and Wonho yelled out to Kihyun before he got too far, “그래! 잘 다녀와! 무슨일 있으면 연락하고!” (Translation: “Yeah, have a safe trip! If anything, call me!”)

Hyungwon stumbled out into the kitchen still sleepy and mumbled, “기현이 어디 갔어?” (Translation: “Did Kihyun go somewhere?”)

Wonho chuckled. “어, 양양.” (Translation: “Yeah, Yang-yang.”)

“양...양…?” (Translation: “Yang...yang…?”) Hyungwon blankly stared at Wonho.

Minhyuk stomped over and slumped in the seat near the two other boys. He huffed, “기꺼이 그 여자를 만나겠데. 양양에서 만난데. 우리랑 한번도 안 가봤는데 그 여자랑 간데!!!” (Translation: “He so readily said he’s going to meet that girl. At Yang-yang. He hasn’t even gone there with us but he’s going there with that girl!!!”)

Wonho and Hyungwon looked at Minhyuk before smirking at each other behind Minhyuk’s back. He was just upset his bickering cooking buddy got taken away, after all.

*** THE END ***

[academiceve]

Grad Profile #1: Interview with a Health Psychology Masters Student

I thought that it would be fun to introduce interview style blog posts on my blog! I have friends in amazing places, doing amazing things, some of which are attending graduate programs! I would also like to talk more about Psychology and what it is like to continue your studies in one of the subfields, so I hope I can hunt down more people but also include those in different disciplines too!

This first interview is with my dear friend, whom I know from undergrad, as we both studied Psychology. She is currently in her 2nd year of a Health Psychology masters program. 

The Interview

1. Why did you decide to study Psychology for undergrad and what was your experience like?

Psychology was not actually the initial undergrad choice. I got interested in the subject sometime after taking an elective Psychology class in high school. It grew on me. Then after some researching and career testing, I decided to stick to the field. It was one of the best decisions I could have made. I thoroughly enjoyed my undergrad studies.

2. Name 3 favourite/least favourite Psychology subjects that you had to take during your undergraduate studies.

The favourite courses that I had in undergrad were definitely Abnormal Psychology, Marriage and Family, and Family and Addictions. The subjects were interesting on their own, what with dealing with different psychological disorders, subtleties of family life, and a broader understanding of addiction disorders. In addition, they were taught by the most amazing professors, who were really passionate about their subjects and knew a great deal, both from an academic standpoint and from personal working experience.

Meanwhile the subjects I liked the least were Evolutionary Psychology, Organisational Psychology and, as useful and necessary as it is in the field, Statistics. The first two subjects were simply not as appealing to me (and were perhaps taught by the wrong people). Meanwhile, statistics was never, and is still not my thing. I think that it’s alright because not everyone is destined for research and not everyone has to like the same things. The important thing is to try.

3. How did you know that you would like to further your studies by obtaining a masters degree?

For me, getting a masters degree was never a question of wanting it. It is just something that has to be done in order to actually work in the field. The question I had to face was figuring out which masters to get.

4. How and why did you choose to study Health Psychology for your masters degree? Talk a little about your program, how long it is, what kind of classes you take, etc.

Choosing Health Psychology for my masters was not an easy choice. It involved a lot of research and a lot of talking. There were talks with professors, family and friends. The first offered their professional insights. Family, meanwhile, helped to figure out the financial/scholarship matters. Lastly, friends were there to listen and to offer their own insights. Honestly, sometimes, it felt less like talking and more like rambling about the same thing over and over again. But it helped. All the options were considered. It makes me all the more glad that I had someone to talk to.  

As for the program itself, the Health Psychology program takes two years to complete and consists of 120 credits. Each semester consists of classes worth 30 credits. It amounts to about 5 subjects each semester, except for the last, which has only 2 that are worth more credits: second practicum and thesis writing and defense. There are several mandatory classes, such as counselling and psychological evaluation, statistics (yay, but sarcastically), rehabilitation, etc. Then there are 3 elective classes that can be taken. For the thesis, it takes 3 semesters to write. The first semester is dedicated to literature review and introduction, the second to methods and the last one to discussion and results. 

5. What do you like/dislike about studying Health Psychology? Is it what you expected it to be? Is it different from what you expected? If so, how?

In regards to my personal liking of the program, I can say that I am rather enjoying it. Some of the subjects are particularly interesting and valuable. For instance, I do not know what I would have done without the psychological evaluations class or the mock counselling sessions in various other classes. They were the basis I used during the first practicum, where real people came with real problems and real psychological evaluation needs. My masters was my standing rock, helping me bit by bit become better at what I want to do in my life.  

Other subjects are naturally, not as interesting or valuable. Then again, it has to do with personal interests and qualifications of people teaching them. You might be surprised to hear that sometimes a person with three degrees and teaching a masters course might have no idea what they are talking about.

On an ending note, here is something I wish someone would have told me.  It might sound out of blue but I hope it helps. Health Psychology, while part of the medical psychology branch, deals a whole lot more with somatic diseases and their psychological treatment, e.g. diabetes or heart attacks, and less so with psychological disorders, e.g. depression or schizophrenia. Clinical, meanwhile, does the opposite. That said, if there is anyone out there undecided between health psychology and clinical, really consider that distinction. While I made my choice, no one made it clear enough while I was applying. To me the two fields seemed completely overlapping (I was wrong). 

6. How did you feel before beginning your masters studies? What the transition from undergrad to post grad was like?

Starting something new can be a pretty scary experience. It was for me. Especially because I had to move to another city. It was my biggest leap of independence yet. Though, scary as it was, I was still excited for my studies. As for the transition, I expected it to be more challenging. It wasn’t easy and there were certainly days when I called my family or my friends and told them that I wanted to quit, to come back home, to try again later or maybe never. I was fortunate to have them there at those times. Then, as the academic year went on, I made new friends, I got adjusted to the different system, different language, new professors and a schedule that was absolutely different than the one in undergrad. All in all, life got better.

7. What was your first year experience like of your master’s degree?

I started the year very excited, albeit a little scared. There were ups and downs, subjects I adored, professors who were amazing, then there were classes I skipped (yes, even in grad school) and the professors I dreaded hearing lecture. Then the motivation was gone. I am not entirely sure why. Health Psychology is something that I do like. Perhaps what I missed was a gap year, to take a break from academics. The summer that I took off was not enough.

So here’s another advice: if you feel like you need a break, take it. No one knows you better than you. Maybe you don’t need a break, maybe you can go into grad school right away and nail those several years. If not, rest. Grad school won’t go away.

In my personal experience, I don’t regret the decision of not taking a gap year. I had an enjoyable year. I just don’t know if I would make that decision again given a second chance.  

8. Is the workload different from undergrad? If so, how? Do you do more work now or is it about the same? Do you have days off? Any tips for adjusting to the workload in graduate school?

It’s rather difficult to compare the workload between undergrad and grad school. In undergrad, the classes were spaced out during the week, Monday to Friday, usually every day; there was a lot of homework, a lot of reading. Now, the days I need to physically go into class range from two to maximum three, as a way to benefit students who also work. The readings are still just as plenty but I guess undergrad teaches what to read, what to skim and what to pretend to have read. For homework, well... It’s all about whether you manage your time right. If I did my assignments at the rate I allowed myself in undergrad, I would have failed the year. The expectations are much higher, instructions are fewer, and getting used to writing papers in my native tongue after doing it in English for four years has been difficult. Do not even get me started on the length. Enjoy undergrad while you can.

Key to getting everything done comes down to time management, multitasking and a few other things I would like to briefly expand upon. One, it is crucial to communicate with your professors. Look at your assignment due dates (make a list of those) in advance. If you see that a semester worth of assignments is crammed into a single week, tell them. The professors can and usually adjust the dates to benefit the students. Unless they are told hours before or after the due date. Two, for the love of puppies, take time off. Go see a movie, read a book, invite a friend over for tea, whatever you like, the important part is that you don’t fry your brain trying to do everything in one sitting. Leave that for the midterms and finals. Everyone says they will study ahead but no one does. Cure? None.

9. How do you manage your time? Are there any productivity/time management apps/tools that you use?

As said above, time management is crucial. To better succeed at it, I have all of my due dates for assignments listed. It helps me decide which projects are a priority, how much time I can dedicate to each, by when I should be done.

Another tool is making a list of everything that needs to be done, say, in a day. Write it down on a sticky note, a piece of paper, whichever; it helps to keep focused. It is also very satisfying to cross things out.

Lastly, I would like to promote Zotero or Refworks when it comes to making “References”. It saves a lot of time and frustration. It stashes all the read articles in a single place and makes references for you with a few single clicks. Saved me hours!!!

10. What was the application process like for grad school for you? Did you have to do a lot more/or less in comparison to undergrad? Did you have to have an interview?

Contrary to undergrad application, which has a national-wide online system to help you out, applying to grad school is on you. Every university has different application dates and deadlines and there are always the application fees. Universities also limit to how many of their programs you can apply to. Mine had four (for both paid and government financed studies), meanwhile another university I applied to had twelve. Most require to come for an interview. Applying is rather stressful and much more independent. Though, at that point in life, it’s not something you can’t handle.

11. Since you had to do an interview, please share what kind of questions they asked you and any tips that you have preparing for an interview.

As much as I would love to share my interview experience, I am afraid it’s already mostly lost to me. I was super stressed out on the day because it was my number one choice program. What I do remember was being asked why I wanted to study in their university, why the particular program, would I still come to study there if I did not receive a scholarship (which was an option for me) and if I could read 10 English books in a year (still don��t know the point of that). I think they also asked me to tell them about my professional experience. Not that any undergrad has much. It then helps to speak of conferences, what you’ve attended, if you’ve presented somewhere.

Interviews are scary, but they shouldn’t be. Just remember that the interview is such a small tiny thing. Even if it doesn’t work out the first time, you can try again. A lot depends on our cognitions. If we tell ourselves it is frightening, then we make it so, in turn making ourselves more prone to “stress mistakes”. If we don’t, it’s not. I think I remember telling myself: “whatever happens, happens”, before going inside. That helped. Besides, the outcome depends as much on the interviewers’ moods, personalities and personal bias, as it does on your personal input. 

More specifically, to please the interviewer(s) you should look up your program. Knowing what classes you may be able to take and gushing how excited you would be to take them is really a bonus. Tell them how it aligns with your professional interests, so have at least some idea what your professional interests are.

12. What are the top 3 study tips that you use while studying for your masters degree?

Write down due dates and start completing the assignments at least several days before it has to be turned in.

Do readings on time.

Make detailed ‘to-do’ lists for the assignments at hand. Cross off completed work to feel better.

13. I know that this is the most annoying question, but after your masters studies, do you have an idea of what you would like to do? Talk about your dream career choice. What kind of further schooling you will need to achieve it?

Doing my practicum has helped me realise that I would really like to work as a health psychologist. I found that I rather enjoy doing psychological evaluations and counselling people. I am well aware that I still lack the skill and the practice. It makes me look forward to the second practicum, where I will get a chance to improve and learn more. And after I am done, I hope I can apply my knowledge and continue to improve as I work. I do wish to go into one of the psychology schools and become a psychotherapist. Perhaps, sometime later in life, once I’ve rested from the academics and actually earned the money necessary to further my studies. We’ll see. I’d like to be hopeful and encourage the same in others.

I hope you enjoyed this interview and a massive thank you to my friend for agreeing to answer questions and talk more about her experience in graduate school! If you would like to read more from me, click HERE to see other blog posts! You can also follow my studygram HERE for some inspiration! 

[mayaparker]

Bars in Bars;

Stonefruit Inn Karaoke Night Christmas 2018 - Night One

Katarina walked out of the elevator and towards the lounge. Her blonde hair was bound in a sleek and tight bun. She stopped in the doorway, looking around for anyone she knew and needed to greet. Finding no one, she made her way to the bar to order a glass of merlot. As she waited she turned to the person next to her, "Do you happen to know when this starts?"

Aedan was dressed in his favourite leather jacket, buzzing with nerves about going to this event. He had to come, though. If a leaflet with his name through his door didn't mean he was wanted there, he didn't know what did. He spritzed himself with his favourite handmade cologne and made the long walk into town. He had no idea where the venue was.

Ephram spotted a man basically turning in confused circles about a block from the Stonefruit and grinned, loping over. "Hey there, buddy," he said, "You plannin' on headin' to the Stonefruit Inn for their Solstice party thing? I'm going, if you wanna know the way." He stuck out his hand. "Ephram."

“Huh?” Adean looked at the stranger and threw him a smile. “Oh, yeah. I'm thinking of going to that party myself. Aedan.” He took the offered hand and gave it one firm shake, “Lead the way.”

"Aedan, Irish, huh? I've got Irish way back in my kin. Most of us from Appalachia do." Ephram chuckled. "Way, waaaaaaay back, though. Ain't like I know nothin' much bout the old country." They came upon the inn, lit up and practically sparkling with bonhomie, and Ephram swept open the door as if he was in charge of it. "Bar's right on in there. Best place to start, hey?"

“Few people do know about Ireland, really. And those that say they do, don't,” Aedan nodded his thanks as he entered the bar. The place smelled of mistletoe and mulled drinks. “It's the only place to start! I'm not going to karaoke without at least three inside of me,” Aedan stopped by the bar beside a woman and waited for the barman to approach.

After a moment the bartender returned to hand, Katarina her glass. She thanked him and pulled out her card to open a tab. She was curious about what sort of talents might be hiding in this town, but it was always easier to appreciate with a drink or two. She noticed the two men come up to the bar, but as she didn't recognize them didn't immediately speak.

"Aw, now -- ain't it some sorter rule that if you're Irish, you got a voice that would please the angels? That's what my mamaw always said," Ephram ordered himself a beer and smiled at Katarina. "Tell me you heard of this rule too. C'mon, I need backup."

Katarina turned at the sound of someone entreating her into conversation. She gave a catlike smile "I'm sorry," she replied with a small shake of her head and the faintest note of her Russian accent, "I've knew an Irish gentleman in St. Petersburg who's voice couldn't be described as angelic, but perhaps the exception proves your rule."

Aedan nearly let out a strained laugh and glanced at Ephram, “I might have a voice that pleases the angels but I also have the performance nerves of a wee deer.” Aedan glanced over at the woman Ephram spoke to, “See? I have every reason to be nervous!” He'd not sung on stage for about eight years.

Ephram repeated in delight, "A wee deer!" before picking up on Katarina's comment and groaning. "Honey, you was supposed to help my side of the argument. Now it looks like we're all gettin' a round on me." He motioned to the bartender and said, "My new deer friend here is Aedan and I'm Ephram. You ... from around here? As in settled here?"

Katarina laughed lightly, "I'm afraid that's the risk you take when you ask a stranger for help in an argument." She took a sip from her merlot as the man called over the bartender. "Katarina," she replied and put out a hand, "I've recently settled in Soapberry Springs. I imagine that you, Ephram, are a local and I would suppose Aedan is not?"

“I'm nowhere near a local,” Aedan said as he took one of the drinks the bartender was pouring for them.

"I'm a transplant," Ephram drawled, turning so he was leaning back on his elbows against the bar. "From the great state of Kentucky. But there ain't no place I'd rather be at this point than Soapberry." Waving his glass around, Ephram whispered loudly, "...my sweetheart's a part owner of this place. Neat, huh?"

Katarina nodded as both men explained their relationship to the town. She took another sip of her merlot, about to ask that if it was true in small towns that transplants never truly got to be locals. Before she could though Ephram spoke again. In a stage whisper he announced that his sweetheart was part owner of the inn. It was easy for her to guess who he was referring to. "Ah, you are Freddie's husband?" she asked.

Aedan remained quiet as he enjoyed his free drink. He had no idea who most of the people in town were and much less who owned what.

Ephram beamed as if Katarina had given him the directions to El Dorado. "Yeah! Freddie, he's my lil darlin. I'm glad you din't think it was Cardero." He shuddered, then looked back at Aedan. "You met Freddie yet, Aedan deer, or you jes caught wind of this shindig on your own?”

Katarina smiled at the clear joy that came with her recognition of his husband. However she felt an internal twinge of confusion when he mentioned that he was glad she hadn't thought his husband was Iann Cardero. Given his shudder it seemed a strong feeling. "Why are you glad I didn't think it was Iann?" she asked in a perfectly neutral tone. She looked over to at Aedan to hear how he had found his way to the Stonefruit Inn this evening.

Aedan looked up from his beer like a deer in headlights, “Huh? Oh, someone posted a leaflet with my name on it through my door. I don't think I've met a Freddie, yet. And I thought that I should mingle a wee bit.” 

Ephram scrunched his face up in distaste. "Cardero and me get along about as good as buggies and bonfires, which is to say hardly. Freddie loves 'im, though, so what can you do." He grinned at Aedan, patting the other man lightly on the back. "You should definitely mingle," Ephram approved. "You're minglin' right now! With us. For until you git them three drinks down and sing us all some Danny Boy."

“Oh man, I am not singing Danny Boy. It's Pogues or go home,” Aedan grinned at Ephram. He took a swig of his beer as he shucked off his leather jacket.

Katarina thought there was probably more to the story. However seeing as that was all Ephram said she let it go. Instead she turned her attention to Aedan. She laughed at his comment that it was Pogues or nothing. "Ah, I think you've backed yourself into a corner now," she said with the same catlike smile, "I think before this night is over you'll find yourself singing Pogues for all of us." 

Ephram chugged the rest of his drink and nudged Katarina. "You'll Kirsty for him, right? What is it, Fairytale of New York?" Ephram knew only the vaguest of things about the Pogues, but he was pretty sure on that one. Fairly sure. Well, sorta had an inkling. He ordered another beer.

Katarina laughed, "Will I now?" She could sing and decently well, but wasn't quite as familiar with the discography of the Pogues as she'd like to be before singing in front of all these people. "I think perhaps we should rather consider if any music, other than Christmas music, is truly restricted to one time of year or another," she replied.

“You don't have to sing with me,” Aedan said, protesting. He wasn't drunk yet and definitely didn't intend on a duet with a stranger. Well, yet. He polished off his beer and asked the barman for another round, on him this time.

"Fairytale does mention Christmas," Ephram said loftily, wrapping his arm around Aedan's shoulder. Whatever's on tap, it's certainly potent. "And if it makes you feel better, son, later on we can do Wild Rover together. I ain't no grand voice neither, but I like to sing and I like it even better with company."

"I'm not certain that alone makes it a Christmas song just as taking place during Christmas time doesn't make Die Hard a Christmas movie," Katarina replied. Turning to Aedan, she added, "Thank you. Although after a few more glasses I suppose we'll see what I think of singing duets." She wasn't planning on performing, but it was how people always left the door open for that sort of thing. After a sip of her merlot she added, "Although I'd hardly want to be the poor person who has to follow up the two of you doing a duet."

“I've literally never heard of Wild Rover. But as long as there's a cue screen and enough drink,” Aedan turned to Katarina, “And Fairytale of New York is THE best Christmas song. Anyone who says otherwise needs to listen closer!” He grinned and accepted the next beer. It barely touched him, yet. He preferred whiskey, after all.

Ephram's jaw dropped. "No, nay, never!" he said mournfully. "Ahhh, well. Reckon this is one of the ways us long-ago Irish and you modern Irish got to be different along the way. We still got plenty of the oul' songs up in the holler." He nodded at Katarina. "C'mon, there's gotta be some sorter traditional winter song that your people sing, right?"

Katarina sipped her wine as Ephram lamented the fact that Aedan didn't know what she guessed was a Irish folk song. She nodded when he asked if there was traditional music from 'her people'. "Yes, we have traditional folk music like anyone," she replied, "However it's all in Russian."

Aedan buried himself in his drink as he was scolded for being a poor Irishman. He was about to say something but was glad the conversation turned to Katarina, “Mmhm, you should definitely sing in your language. I can sing in mine!” 

"See now, here's where you both got it over me. I speak hillbilly and ain't no call for that in song. Unless it's Cotton Eyed Joe, of course," Ephram said. 

Katarina laughed, "Here I thought it was Pogues or nothing. Perhaps I missed it, but I don't think they sing in Gaelic."

“I can translate Pogues into Gaelic and Old Irish... on the spot!” Aedan gave him a cheeky grin.

Ephram looks puzzled and interested. "Old Irish? I thought Gaelic was the same thing as Old Irish. It ain't?"

“Now that," Katarina replied, "is absolutely not an act I would want to have to follow." She didn't comment on whether or not Gaelic and Old Irish were the same language as she had no idea as to the answer.

“No, not at all. Gaelic is the older more traditional form. Ireland's bloody complicated,” Aedan replied before he hid himself in his beer, again.

Ephram patted Aedan on the back, not quite sure if he'd embarrassed the man somehow. "Ain't no big deal, wee deer. I jes don't really know much about Ireland apart from the stereotypes and the murals. You want somethang stronger'n that beer?" He called to the bartender again, saying, "Let's git a bottle of, uh -- let's git one of Irish whiskey, one of Kentucky bourbon, one of Russian vodka. How's that?"

Katarina filed away the information about languages in Ireland, curious about it in the same way she was curious about most things. Seeing as Aedan seemed somewhat uncomfortable with the topic she didn't ask anything further. Ephram piped up next, offering to buy a bottle of liquor from each of their respective homelands. She showed no change in expression although she found it curious as well that he assumed that was the liquor each would prefer. He did just say that all he knew of Ireland was from the stereotypes and murals. She smiled and said in a conspiratorial tone to Aedan, "I think Ephram intends to get us both drunk enough to sing."

Aedan couldn't help but laugh at that, “Don't worry about it. Most people seem to not know that there is a Northern Ireland and a Republic. And seem to think Danny Boy is our national anthem.” He grinned in appreciation at the offer of whiskey to show that there were no ill feelings. “As long as he's paying…” he added.

"Damn straight I'm payin'. Freddie can take it out in trade later," Ephram gave a hooting laugh and poured himself a generous shot of bourbon when it came, "I'm aimin' to git everbody drunk enough to sing. No wallflowers allowed, them's house rules."

Katarina laughed, "Well, at the risk of sounding like a Russian stereotype myself I'm afraid you'll need more vodka than this."

Aedan poured himself a glass of the whiskey and raised his glass in a mimicry of the 'cheers' and sipped the drink. ”Hmm we're all stereotypes, I think,” he said as he drew the glass from his lips, “Most of us will get more drunk than you intend if Katarina is any example of our mindsets.”

Ephram squinted suspiciously at Katarina, "So what's your deal? You like ... Black Widow, or some other sorter superspy? Come to track down a supervillain in sleepy lil' Soapberry." He pointed at Aedan. "We already know wee deer is here to guard his pot o' gold, and I'm takin' a break before I gotta head back and marry a cousin, but what's your story?"

Katarina raised an eyebrow, "What's my deal?" She paused to take a sip of her wine and consider her answer. "If I were sticking with stereotypes, I think I would be the supervillain myself. However I am not this exciting. Simply, I moved here from Portland to get away from an unfortunate situation."

Aedan slipped off of his stool, “'I'm gonna go to the bathroom. I'll see you both in a wee bit. If I'm not back in five, someone tried to nick my pot o' gold.” He chuckled and wandered off shaking his head. Any other way, he'd have been offended. But this seemed to be all good fun.

Ephram took the opportunity to nick a slug of Aedan's whiskey instead, and returned to his conversation with Katarina. "Supervillain, huh?" he said, figuring that unfortunate situation wouldn't be much fun to talk about. "That's sorter dire. What would your MO be? And more important, would you talk in that exaggerated accent?"

Katarina shook her head, "I suppose, I would probably use poison, but no, I wouldn't speak in an exaggerated accent. It would too easily give me away. Besides I'm certain you've seen the acting in those old Bond films, behaving in such a way would render me ridiculous."

Ephram grinned, helping himself to a (more modest) shot of her vodka. "Naaaaaw. I cain't see any scenario in which you'd end up lookin' ridiculous."

Katarina shrugged, "I'm certain there are one or two, bu I do try to avoid them" She took a drink from her wine, intending to finish it before starting in on the vodka.

Aedan took his time in the bathroom, cooling his cheeks down and checking for any damage the snow might've done to his hair. He then took his time wandering back, letting the other two have their wee conversation. After all, he still needed to explore this place before it got too crowded and he was too drunk.

Ephram wrapped his hand carefully around his bottle of bourbon, saying, "I'll jes bet you do. It was nice meeting you, Katarina poison villain. I'll see you later. When you're up on stage." He chuckled and sailed off into the crowd.

Maya arrived late on purpose. By doing so she intended to avoid any requests that she sing too. She had absolutely no intention to sing. As she walked into the lounge she saw a few people she knew. Clearly she hadn't managed to arrive as late as she intended though. She therefore headed first to the bar to order a Long Island Iced Tea before scanning the crowd more thoroughly.

Aedan found his place back at the bar with his bottle and glass. “Where's he going?” Aedan glanced over his shoulder to watch Ephram disappear into the slowly growing crowd. He had not noticed the new visitor appear at the bar.

Katarina gave him a nod and said, "Nice to meet you as well Ephram." She watched him disappear into the crowd. As he went she thought briefly that old saying about opposites attracting was true. Turning to Aedan as he returned, "I'm not entirely sure, although I might guess to find his husband." She took another sip of her wine before saying, "May I ask how long you've been in town?" 

“Barely a week, even. And I've already met quite a few people around here,” Aedan gave her a smile as he sipped his whiskey, “And you?” 

Katarina had to think for a moment. "I've been here since a little bit before September," she replied. It surprised her in fact how long it had been.

“Sounds like you're still settling in,” Aedan smiled at her and watched the barman work. It was only then he noticed a familiar face around the bend in the bar, “Holy shite! Can you- will you excuse me a wee second? I think I recognize someone!”

Katarina gave a smile and a small shrug, "I've been doing something like that I think." She finished off her wine and poured a shot of vodka. She nodded as Aedan asked her to excuse him. "Please, go say hello. I have plenty of company," she said with wink and a gesture to the vodka bottle

Aedan gave her a good-natured grin and wandered over to Maya with his bottle of whiskey in one hand and glass in the other. “Fancy seeing you here Cake-Girl!”

Maya thought she saw Aedan on the other side of the bar, but he seemed in conversation with a blonde woman she didn't know. She therefore chose to make a mental note of it and say hi later. Movement a few moments later caught her eye. She looked over to see Aedan coming her way. As he approached she gave a smile that turned into a laugh when he greeted her. "Fancy seeing you here Duped By Werewolves Guy," she teased.

“There's drink,” Aedan said in a conspiratorial tone, “What kind of man would I be if I turned down a drink and a good sing-song?” He set his bottle on the bar. “You want some or are you happy with your... what the hell is that?” He looked at her Long Island Iced Tea with playful disapproval.

Maya had to laugh. "Well, I certainly can't disagree with that," she replied, "And I'm never one to turn down offered booze. Although this is a perfectly acceptable drink in and of itself." She turned slightly to ask the bartender for an extra glass.

Aedan poured her a glass of his Irish whiskey the moment it hit the bar, “It's only fair. I didn't buy it.” He winked at her and then took a swig of his own.

"Well in that case I'll have two," Maya replied with a laugh. She tossed back the first drink easily and set down the glass beside the bottle again. 

Aedan poured her yet another and topped his own up. “Give you an inch, eh?” he said with a playful nudge.

Maya shrugged, "And I'll take a couple of miles." She didn't throw the second drink back with quite the same vigor. Instead she sipped it like a mildly responsible kind of person. "So, we going to be hearing you sing later?" she asked.

Fane had been sorting last minute celebration bits and pieces back at the estate gardens, the stalls were coming together and the bonfire was stacked for the solstice get together he'd been planning. With everything falling into place he'd popped inside changing into an appropriate fitted slim-jeans and black knitted jumper with the words merry christmas you filthy hobbitses on the front and a few Lord of the Rings pictorial references before heading over to town and the Stonefruit Inn and heading inside.

Aedan playfully rolled his eyes, “Good God, what is it with everyone in this place? You all think I can sing.” He cast her a smirk and sipped his whiskey. “Mmhm, maybe. I've not sang in public in years. Not counting the nake-” He caught himself from saying something wholly inappropriate.

Maya laughed, "I have no idea if you can sing. But that's irrelevant to my question and I think to karaoke in general." Her eyes lit up at his almost admission. "Not count the naked what?" she asked with a devious smile and a long drink from her whiskey.

Fane glanced around once he was inside, spotting a couple of familiar faces and walking over. He grinned at Aeden and wrapped an arm around Maya's shoulders pressing a fatherly kiss to her head, "what's this about naked shenanigans? Nothing too inappropriate I hope," he quipped having no clue what he was walking into.

“I will not be telling anyone that, because it's wholly inappropriate for everyone. Even me!” Aedan grinned at her before he caught sight of the sweater. “Holy Hobbitses,” he said, with a broadening smile on his face, “I didn't even know those existed!” He pointed at Fane's amazing jumper.

Maya glanced up at Fane when he slung an arm around her shoulders. "Please, I'm an adult. I can handle inappropriate," she replied. She turned her attention to Fane's sweater when Aedan pointed it out. With a laugh she added, "Aww, we almost match. Cute."

Fane nodded his head sagely in agreement with Maya's point. "All adults here, more or less, emphasis on less," though as Aedan commented on his jumper Fane winked "just have to know the right dragon's horde to search to get one. Also, no using jumpers to divert the conversation. We're owed a wholly inappropriate story now."

Aedan gave a look of 'oh shite' and sighed, “Fine! But you'll owe me a wee drink for it.” He shook his still half-full bottle at him, “And you better sit down.”

"Sit down for what? You tellin' a story here?" Ephram came wandering back, having completed his circuit of the room and finished off about half of his bottle of bourbon. "Oh hey, Fane, Maya. I shoulda guessed youn's knew each other already."

“Is my wee naked story becoming a spectator event?” Aedan said with laughter in his voice and a deep pink flush on his cheeks. It wasn't clear if that was the alcohol or the embarrassment of an audience.

"Awww, c'mon now -- don't refer to it as a wee naked story. That's jes settin' yourself up," Ephram said.

Maya glanced over at Ephram as he arrived. "Hello Ephram," she greeted him before turning back to Aedan. "Just think of it as your head start in stand up," she replied. She would've offered to tell an embarrassing story of her own in return, but decided against it.

Fane looked amused though whether it was putting Aeden on the spot or poking fun was questionable. Still he moved over to the bar indicating for a drink in the meantime before a familiar voice sounded nearby. Looking over once his order was made he offered Ephram a smile leaning an elbow on the counter "evening Ephram, having a good time?" Though not wishing to be rude and intrude over Aeden's moment he looked back to the Irishman "I mean sounds like you have spectral audience enough at your place - no doubt there's plenty of naked stories they've got on you, what's a living audience by comparison hm?" he joked playfully.

Ephram nodded at Fane, returning the smile easily. "Gettin' better and better," he said, and left it at that as well, interested in hearing Aedan's story. He felt a little rush of warmth, though, at Fane's friendly greeting in response to his own; maybe this was the right time for them to finally get along.

“Ouch,” Aeden chuckled and shook his head. 'Fine thank you Fane, for reminding me. Fine. Well, the last time I sang in public I might've been as bare-arsed as the day I was born.' He cleared his throat and took a long sip of his whiskey as if building tension. Instead he was just buying time. 'Well, one day I was more than a wee bit drunk with my Welsh friend, Jack. And he decided he had this amazing idea to try getting in the local newspaper of this small French town. So he tells me to whack my clothes off and stand on a mural in the middle of town. I was two sheets to the wind at this point, so I decide it's an amazing idea, too. So there I am, naked as a babe and a crowd start to gather. I panicked and tried to climb down. But I realise Jack's stolen the ladder. To get it back, I have to do this whole song and dance number. Everything of mine just... out for the rural French folk to see.'

Maya held her composure until Aedan finished his story with the help of sips from her drink. At the end though she had to laugh. "Okay," she replied, "But did you get into the newspaper?"

"I git the feelin' a wee bit drunk means a LOT bit drunk," Ephram laughed, shaking his head.

Fane hooted upon the completion of the little story. "Hey better the French than the English and their damn refined sensibilities right?"

“You bet your sweet arse I got in the paper! And not just of the local paper. Everywhere I went that summer I was called the Naked Irishman,” Aedan sipped his whiskey, his flush deepening red. 'And yeah, I don't think it really matters who sees your balls when you see them pixelated in black and white.'

Fane shook his head, "Naked Irishman? Classic, that's it, official nickname garnered right here."

Ephram solemnly says, "That's gonna be my new motto in life.“

Maya laughed again. "If it helps," she replied, "I've had much worse nicknames that stuck around longer than a summer Although I managed to avoid getting photographed."

"Er, the part about the balls, not the Irishman part,” Ephram added.

“Christ above, I just moved here and now I have that nickname! Okay, now you all owe me a wee drink,” Aedan tapped his glass on the bar.

With an easy smile, Maya turned and ordered him a double of well whiskey. "My penance," she said as the bartender set the glass down on the bar beside them.

Ephram holds up his hands with a laugh. "You got all you're gonna git outta me, wee deer! These two can take care of your libations."

Fane nodded and gestured to the barkeep, "once he's finished that one fill up his glass would you mate? Open a tab and keep it coming I think he'll need it to survive mortification." 

“Agh, you weren't part of the deal I guess,” Aedan said to Ephram, “And I think these two can handle it.” He gave a playful wink at the group, the whiskey softening the blow of having that old nickname come back to haunt him.

Maya turned to Fane. "So," she asked, "What cheesy duet have you and Faye cooked up for tonight? Don't Go Breaking My Heart? Islands in the Stream?" She faked horror, "I Got You Babe?" 

Ephram looks interested. "Did she manage to convince you to do somethang more bluesy instead?"

Fane raised a hand to his heart, an expression of over the top mock offence registering on his features. "How dare you! They're not cheesy at all, gosh youth these days it's clearly going to be Lou Rawls - You'll Never Find Another Love Like Mine" he drawled giving her a little nudge though his eyes crinkled fondly. Ephram's question caused him to shake his head a little, "blues is okay, she's tried to convince me but I'm not completely converted. Jazz is way more my sort of speed."

"So long as she ain't hammered enough to try sprawlin' out on the karaoke keyboard, I reckon," Ephram chuckled. "And I've Got You Babe is a classic karaoke song! Especially when you got a girl singin' Sonny and a feller singin' Cher."

Maya shook her head and turned to Aedan, "I'm pretty sure you can't find anything cheesier than Fane here and Faye outside the entire state of Wisconsin." She rolled her eyes affectionately for good measure 

“Can’t you now?” Aedan said as he nursed his free drinks, “The trick is to try out-cheese them.”

Maya glanced over at Ephram with confusion in her expression, "What makes that more classic?" She then turned back to Aedan to shake her head and say, "That's a very dangerous game and one I personally am always guaranteed to lose. Although Ephram and Freddie may be able to give them a run for their money."

Fane chuckled at the mental image that provoked, "don't give her any more ideas. I have enough trouble with her and the one at the house. But I don't know," he said of I've Got You Babe "that one never hit me really. Honestly, on a day to day basis I'm way more into Scorpions, Guns 'N' Roses, Metallica and AC/DC. Give me a solid riffing guitar anthem you can listen to when you're cruising down the roads, you know?" Fane keyed into the other conversation and shrugged, "don't get that woman involved in a competition I swear none of us will survive it if she loses... Either that or she'll be pouting for days and I won't hear the end of it."

Ephram said with great seriousness, "Because karaoke is really goddamn camp. So the chintzier the song, the better. I mean, hell--" he gestured at the burly atronach currently doing a baritone Que Sera Sera -- "if he was singin' some serious song, it wouldn't be half as fun." He grinned. "Me and Freddie doing Sonny and Cher would be hard to beat. What would you do? Lemme guess .... uh ... Sk8er Boi?" Ephram attempted to pronounce the number and spelling, making it hard to discern what the hell he's even referring to.

Maya let the point go. She still wasn't convinced that a dude singing Cher's part was somehow more classic. Instead she turned to Fane to laugh and tease, "Yes, back in the day you were quite the rocker." As far as whatever song Ephram was referencing she shook her head, "I'm just here to cheer." She took a drink from her Long Island Iced Tea.

Ephram didn't press either, nodding at Fane's list of bands and saying, "There was this girl I considered goin' out with once but Thunderstruck came on in the car and she was like, ~na na na na na na na na na SUNDAY! and I couldn't take it, man. Sunday."

Aedan had polished off yet another glass of whiskey listening to this lot bicker over ‘classics’, “Y’know, you’ve not heard a classic til you’ve had an old woman sing in Gaelic at you. Those songs are the classics.”

Ephram poked Aedan good-naturedly. "Yeah, but they ain't cut out much for makin' a monkey of yourself in front of folks when you're too toasted to be on-key."

Maya shook her head, "Then I think only a very few people have heard the classics." She was teasing his hometown superiority a little, but good-naturedly Having lived in New York she'd heard it plenty and had a little bit of it herself.

“Bah, you'll all see. You'll all see,” Aedan said as if he was some cartoonish villain scheming to overthrow the doubters.

Fane huffed a quiet laugh at Maya's jibe, "back in the day, rude" he tsked lightly "I still am thanks though I never could rock a guitar like I can the piano." Fane raised a brow at Ephram’s rendition of AC/DC but shook his head in amusement, "dude that's a total keeper right there I have no idea what you mean." Though when Aeden spoke Fane just grinned a little slanted, "you and your Gauls, I raise you little old Romanian washerwomen from the hamlet singing rather questionable things when they had a few too many."

Maya laughed, "Wait, if we're playing who has the best singers its obviously drunks in New York, especially on the train."

“Bah! Your Romanian washerwomen! I’m talking druids,” Aedan hung onto the S, now clearly drunk. Not drunk enough to strip naked and climb a monument. “And most of those drunks are ex-Irish!”

Ephram raised his hand, "I got toothless grandmaws and granpappies rockin' on their front porches while they sing, how's that?"

Bella headed inside, her dress trailing slightly on the ground behind her as she immediately headed in the direction of the bar, she couldn't see Iann or Freddie and figured they were off working the background for a while but so far as she could tell no one was singing, hoping she hadn't missed anyone. Least there were a few familiar faces.

“What’s the state of their teeth got to do with anything? Are ye saying that if I lost my teeth my singing will mean more classically?” Aedan sounded ready for a fight but he was wholly enjoying this random debate about how classic was classic.

Ephram bristled, although similarly fakely. "That there's the proud tradition of my kinfolk! The fact they can still sing even though they cain't eat corn no more is classically classic and no mistake, wee deer. Way more than your old druid women singin' round Stonehenge or whatever."

“Then the Pogues are classic too! Shane Macgowan has donkey teeth. Or did... once,” Aedan said.

Ephram spat in his hand and held it out. "Deal."

Aedan mimicked him and clapped his hand on Ephram’s. He immediately regretted it.

Ephram furrowed his brow after a moment. "Hey, bartender," he called. "A couple napkins here?..."

Maya shook her head, "And once again my theory that all men are really just twelve year old boys gets proven right." She turned her attention briefly to the rest of the room to see if anyone else she knew had arrived.

"Nothing beats a good washerwoman's sing-song whilst she's fulling cloth, neither of you will ever convince me of that" Fane tsked at the other two reaching for his glass to take a sip. Though the mention of Stonehenge made his inner historian ruffle if only because it was a generally held misconception "hey hey, stonehenge is a burial ground built by-- Neolithic Britonians not druids that's that damn antiquarian Stukeley's fault for that one."

Ephram paused in scrubbing the napkin against his palm to blink at Fane. "Uh. Okay, uh ... sorry?"

Fane waved his hand, not meaning any offence by it more just wishing to clarify a widely held false fact "doesn't matter point is god I hated Stukeley."

"Well then, in that case." Ephram lifted his glass. "Fuck Stukeley!" 

Maya laughed. "Fuck Stukeley!" she agreed raising her own glass as well.

Fane raised his glass in turn, "damn right, fuck that guy."

“Fuck everyone! Wait…” Aedan checked out for a moment, “I once got naked there, too. Who's gonna sing first?”

Ephram bellowed, "YOU!"

“Oh God above. I'm not going up unless I've got my Kirsty MacColl. And seeing as none of you seem to have the fluty pipes to pull her off, I won't be singing,” Aedan poked his tongue out and sipped his whiskey with a smug smirk.

"Yeah, it's going to be a no from me too," Maya replied with a shake of her head.

Ephram made a disappointed noise, but then rallied when he saw Ruby bopping around near the bar. "Hey, Ruby!" he shouted. "C'mere, sing a duet with this guy! He's nice, I promise!" Ephram patted Aedan's chest, assuring him, "You'll love 'er. We used to be a thing. Sweet girl."

Fane rolled his eyes at Aedan's refusal to sing "I might not be Kirsty MacColl but I'm game to sing a song with the famous Naked Irishman if no one else will."

“Looks like I have two offers, now,” Aedan seemed to sighed with a fake apathy, “I guess I'll have to, now. Don't I?”  He polished off his drink and stood, “So, which of you actually wants to get crucified with me?”

Fane knocked back the last of his glass, "Well, if I'm going down I'm totally going in a crown singing Queen."

Maya took a sip of her drink before saying, "Or going down swinging as I'm sure they say in the karaoke business."

Fane wagged a finger at Maya giving her a look. "Swinging or singing? 'Cause in my book those are two veeeery different activities..."

“You can sing what you want, but I think a Queen, Pogues mashup will make my ears and EYES bleed,” Aedan took a steadying breath and nodded, “And my grandparents were swingers.”

Maya tried and failed to stifle a laugh. "That was information I very much didn't need," she said, "But more power to them I suppose."

Fane clicked his tongue, "wow and there was me thinking it would be a goddamn amazing mashup-- but fine," he said in a long-suffering but joking sort of fashion. "Let me guess, Fairytale of New York?"

Miguel was quickly realizing that the silly and cozy image of him and Iann singing bad karaoke to each other wasn't going to be a reality. Or if it was, it was going to be a reality in front of a ton of people in a very full Inn. It wasn't the kind of crowd Miguel would sing in front of, but it was the kind of crowd he could knock back a few drinks with. At least he saw people he recognized. Including Fane, Ephram, and Maya. He slid up to them, trying to be nonchalant, a Moscow mule in one hand.

“Would I need a Kirsty if it weren't? C'mon Legolas, we're going,” Aedan beckoned Fane to join him on the now waiting stage.

"Have fun storming the castle," Maya said as Aedan and Fane headed towards the stage. At the sound of someone approaching she turned to see Miguel. "Hey Miguel," she said with a smile, "You here to grace us with a song?"

Fane scoffed under his breath "I'm clearly Aragorn thanks." Regardless he walked towards the stage and stepped up picking up a microphone and handing the other to Aedan as the system booted up. "Alright then, take the lead Shane."

Ruby was a bit late, but better that than never. She made her way through the crowd, shouldering up to the bar to order a drink before finding her friends.

Katarina didn't mind being by herself at the bar. She enjoyed watching the townspeople mingling. While she had been in town for several months she didn't know anyone all that well. She was brought out of her people watching by someone trying to reach the bar beside her. "Oh, sorry," she said to the brunette woman who she didn't recognize as she moved out of the woman's way.

Ruby waved at the others as she waited on her drink.

Miguel chuckled a little and smiled at Maya. "Not a chance in hell." He drank from his copper cup and smirked. "At least not until there's more alcohol in me."

Aedan swore under his breath and took the mic, “I swear to god, I'm blaming you if I die up here.” He cleared his throat and the intro music started up. The started to sing along to the song, loosening up with each word.

Fane stepped up on stage with a seemingly natural confidence his shoulders and body loose as he held the microphone. It was a full minute and a bit before the music cued up and Fane raised the microphone and while he was no Kirsty he hit the words and beats near perfectly for a first-time go swaying a little in time to the beat and grinning throughout the course of the verse.

"At least not until you have more alcohol in you?" Maya said with that mischievous glint in her eye. She turned to the bartender to say, "Vodka and make it a double." When it arrived she handed it to Miguel with a smile.

Both men were fantastic together. It helped that Aedan could pull off the accent and slurring tunefulness of a drunk man who could sing.

Miguel rolled his eyes, but he was grinning the whole time. He picked up the vodka without putting down his copper cup - he could double hand it. "Gee thanks, Maya." His eyes narrowed and he looked at the stage. "Is that Fane singing?"

Maya flashed him a brilliant smile, "You're welcome." She nodded at his question with a roll of her eyes, "There's a stage and music. Yes, its Fane singing," despite her eye rolling though there was a warmth to her tone.

Miguel sipped his vodka, then his mule, "Hmm, he doesn't sound half bad. Who's that other fella with him?"

Maya took a sip of her own drink too before replying. "Aedan," she said, "He's pretty new to town. Witch from Ireland."

Fane hooked an arm around Aedan's shoulders as they belted out the tune together, Aedan's drunken enthusiasm just feeding Fane's own enjoyment not that he particularly cared about being up on a stage in front of a crowd. He knew he could hold a tune after all. Eventually the song came to a close and Fane patted Aedan on the back. "See? No one died I'd say the Naked Irishman's making his comeback hey?"

"Aedan? Sounds pretty Irish." Miguel actually had no idea about anything having to do with Ireland, but it just seemed like one of those things that people would say. Besides it might help him remember the guy's name. As the song came to a close he put down his (two) drinks and clapped.

Aedan took the last few lines with a great enthusiasm, his singing background showing up. When they were done, he grinned over at Fane, “That remains to be seen! Back to the bar!”

"Ha! My sentiments entirely,” Fane said.

Ruby waited for her drink - the bartenders were working overtime tonight it seemed - and surveyed the crowd. She couldn't see the stage from where she was, but whoever was singing had a great voice. They both sounded vaguely familiar.

Katarina shook her head, "It's perfectly alright. I should probably move further into the crowd, but then I'd have to carry around an entire bottle of vodka." She gestured towards the bottle Ephram had bought or put on his husband's tab or the like. "You're right though. It is quite crowded in here," she added.

Maya gave Aedan a smile as he returned to the bar. "See from the way you resisted it I thought you were going to suck. I'm perfectly happy to be wrong though," she said, "Also have you met Miguel?"

Aedan gave Maya a huge grin, “I used to perform for pennies every one and a while. Use to. Meaning I didn't know if I would be any good. But Thank you.” He looked at Miguel and shook his head, “Can't say I've had the pleasure.”

Fane trailed back over a little time after Aedan and upon seeing Miguel's appearance broke out in a grin. "My main man, I was wondering where you'd gotten to."

Faye finally made it over to Stonefruit. The sitter had been running late, so she'd sent Fane on ahead, since there was no reason for them both to miss the beginning of things. She hung up her coat and headed into the crowd in search of Fane and their friends.

Miguel smiled at Aeden, the new witch, and held out his hand for a shake - a litmus test if there ever was one for other witches. "Nice to meet you." He glanced at Fane and grinned. "Main man? That's a new one. I like your sweater," he said easily. The love of Tolkien was something they shared.

Aedan took the offered hand and gave a shake. “Hello,” he turned back to his whiskey, wincing as someone sang Simply the Best onstage.

Maya sank a little bit into the background as the men introduced themselves. She used it as a chance to glance around and spotted Ruby at the bar, talking to the same blonde Aedan had been earlier. Her attention then turned to the stage to watch the next person.

Fane glanced around the group figuring they knew each other and then spotting Faye "well, since we're doing introductions I think you know Maya, my daughter, already if earlier is anything to go by--" He pointed out the other blonde witch across the room making her way through the crowd in a similar Lord of the Rings style jumper to his own his gaze growing far more affectionate. "And that gorgeous lady is the Faye you were hearing about earlier."

Miguel mulled the feel of Aeden's magic over for a few moments after the handshake, there was a feeling of mud, blood, and tree sap. It was a writhing chaotic feeling full of potential energy, but not quite kinetic. The image of roots tangled underground came to mind. His magic reminded Miguel of the feeling of his yet untrained niece. That was interesting. He filed the information away for a later date. And then he realized that he was still treating people like ingredients for a spell and his stomach rocked for a moment. It was time to stop doing that. But it had been his reason for playing nice and shaking hands for so long. Not knowing what else to due, Miguel quickly finished his vodka. No use being guilty and melancholy, might as well have fun.

Faye finally spotted who she was looking for and made her way over to Fane and Maya and a few others. "Hey..." she smiled, standing on her toes to kiss Fane's cheek before turning to the others. "I miss anythin' newsworthy?”

Aedan felt a wee bit disturbed by the sensation of shaking Miguel’s hand, immediately trying to tug away. He felt like he’d just been exposed of some bad secret. Instead, he gave one last swig of his whiskey, “Is this a karaoke or what?”

Ruby grinned at the blonde. "True enough. I'm Ruby, by the way. Are you new to town?"

Katarina smiled back, "My name's Katarina." She offered Ruby a hand to shake. "I suppose I'm fairly new to town. I arrived in September."

Fane slipped his arm around Faye's waist drawing her into his side and beaming after the buss to his cheek but taking a moment to kiss her properly in greeting. "Hello love, everything okay at home?" he murmured in her ear, voice soft when he spoke to her. Though while he cradled her against his side he looked back to the slightly disturbed look Aedan wore wondering what had happened after his introduction to Miguel. "Have you met Aedan? He's our new resident Naked Irishman."

Maya shook her head, "Not especially." She gave Fane a friendly swat on the arm, "Fane, I'm not sure Aedan wants us to resurrect his old nickname and certainly not until we also see him naked."

Miguel looked at Faye with big hopeful eyes. Her presence had started to soothe him ever since she got her original magic back. "Hi Faye," he said, smiling around his copper cup.

“Only way you're getting this Irishman naked is if you get him drunk-er,” Aedan waved for the barman to top his glass up. God, he was going to regret it in the morning.

Maya shook her head again, "You can't make it sound like a challenge, dude. The whole family can't resist a challenge."

“I am a very sore loser,” Aedan said.

"Everything's perfect," Faye said back just as softly. "And no, I haven't," Faye said a bit louder of Aedan. She glanced between the new face and Miguel's familiar one, smiling softly. "Hey, Miguel. Nice to meet you, Aedan."

Fane scoffed, "Well, I say if you have a title you should own it, especially if it's good enough to make a headline in a newspaper. Though I can't tell if that's a challenge or not, it certainly sounds like a challenge. His grin was sly and a tad playful, but in a relaxed and nonchalant fashion settled into the mood of making jokes and poking fun at people.

“Hello, Faye?” Aedan said, unsure if he caught Faye's name right. He then turned to Fane, “It might be a bloody challenge! I like being naked and I like being drunk.”

Maya shrugged, "Fair enough then. Challenge him away."

Miguel turned his head and took a moment to appreciate Faye's LotR jumper. Then he took a second look at Maya's sweater. "Wow, did all three of you plan your outfits?"

Faye nodded at Aedan. "Faye's right, and you should listen to her," she said of Maya. "Don't make challenges around this lot..." she grinned.

Ruby shook Katarina's hand. "Nice to meet you." She nodded, thinking back on what she had been doing in September, and couldn't quite remember. So much had happened. Her drink finally came, and Ruby gestured to the crowd with it. "Big turnout."

Katarina nodded, "It is nice to meet you as well." She turned to glance at the crowd. A few people out of the crowd she'd recognized, but not terribly many. "Yes, it is," she agreed, "Have you come to sing?"

Fane snapped his fingers and pointed them at Aedan, "well, then everyone deserves another drink if that's how this is going to go." Though he grinned at Miguel's question wiggling his fingers at his friend, "well, we did" he gestured to Faye and himself "but that one was a total awesome coincidence," he pointed at Maya's, "and shows that we totally are related and have awesome taste.”

Ruby nearly choked on her drink as she heard the words 'naked and drunk' used in rapid succession. She coughed as she turned to Katarina again. "I'll probably sing yeah. It's pretty much the only talent I have..." she laughed.

Faye nodded at Miguel. "A holiday party without matching sweaters? Never," Faye laughed.

Aedan cheered and raised his glass. He was only a few drinks away from being very stupid.

Maya had to pipe up. "In the interest of not confusing you later, we' re not actually related. I'm their adopted kid, but clearly they picked the right weird adult to take in.

Katarina waited a moment as Ruby regained her composure. The words at least didn't appear to phase her. At her old job she'd heard far worse and far more often. "Did someone tell you that?" she asked.

"Me? Oh... no," Ruby shook her head. "It's just... it's the only thing I'm really good at. Ain't I bad thing I guess. I'd rather be real good at one thing than shit at a dozen of 'em."

Katarina considered Ruby's statement. She could understand it on its face. For a great many years, she had worked hard to be remarkably good at one thing at the exclusion of others. However, she would never say she was only truly good at ballet. It certainly wasn't true these days. She didn't think any of the other ballerinas were that way either. However Ruby was a stranger and hadn't asked for Katarina to boost her ego. "I suppose," she said, "Is there a particular style you excel in?"

Miguel glanced between the (adult) 'mother' and (adult) 'child' and smiled warmly. He loved this silly family. "Maybe Maya and Faye should go sing a song together, since Fane's already done his."

"Related," Faye stage-whispered to Miguel, making a circle with her finger to indicate the three of them. "Oh, I missed it? Damn." Faye gave a mock pout. "You'll just have to do another one then. Maya... wanna sing?" She gave the other woman a poke in the arm.

"I super don't. Thanks for asking," Maya replied to Faye, trusting that the older woman would understand her issue was with the activity not with Faye herself.

Aedan checked an email from his work and was tempted to drunkenly reply. He didn’t though, simply because he couldn’t tolerate drunk typing.

Fane looked at Maya and then Faye with a proud happy sort of affection that might just be overly sappy regardless. "I might need some convincing to go again, but if anyone can manage that it's you..." Though he looked at the others in the group "you guys planning on coming by the Yule festivities at mine later in the week?"

“I am,” Aedan said, not looking up from his phone.

“Alright then, I'll just have to go all alone then..." But Faye wouldn't press Maya to do something she wasn't comfortable with. "Though I need a few more drinks before I get up there."

Ruby shrugged. "Not really. I just... sing what I like. I guess I'm better at... folk songs though?"

Katarina sipped her vodka. From what she could tell Ruby was not a classically trained singer. If she was she would probably have a preferred genre. The knowledge didn't make Katarina think less of Ruby, only differently. "Ah, I apologize if I sound interrogating," she said, "I've known many musicians and always found them interesting to talk to."

"No, it's alright, I don't mind," Ruby didn't consider herself a musician, and she certainly wasn't classically trained as Katarina realized. It was simply something she'd always been able to do. "Are you a musician?" Ruby asked.

Katarina shook her head, "No. I'm a dancer."

"Oh, a dancer? What kind?" Ruby asked, clearly interested.

Katarina smiled, always happy to talk about her dancing, "I was a ballerina for most of my life, but until recently I was a stripper."

Ruby hummed around her drink at Katarina's answer, not blinking an eye as the other woman said she'd gone from ballerina to stripper. "What made you stop? Either of them? If you don't mind me askin'? "Though feel free to tell me to be quiet. I sometimes forget that most folks that come to town are here for a reason. And not always good ones." 

Katarina finished off the rest of her vodka before speaking. "I was asked to leave the company and there was a bit of an unfortunate situation in Portland that was easiest to solve permanently with my leaving," she answered. It wasn't a terribly specific answer, but it was technically a fully one.

"But," Maya added, "Miguel, you said you might sing once we got you drunk enough. In which case you could be Faye's duet buddy."

Miguel coughed on his Moscow mule and looked at his friends. If Faye wanted to sing with him... maybe... it could be fun. He didn't feel drunk enough, but he trusted Faye and Maya enough not to make fun of him. "Maaaybe."

"Duet!" Faye said, pointing at Miguel. "I love it!"

Miguel sighed but put his drink down and got up. There was no fighting it. "Alright, duet."

Maya cheered as Miguel gave in to her suggestion, "Yay duet!"

Faye downed the rest of her drink and handed it to Fane, asking for another as he said he was going to the bar. She linked her arm with Miguel, giving him a squeeze. "What'd'you wanna sing, partner?"

Miguel blinked and his mind froze. All he could think of were show tunes, and none of them duets. Okay the duet from wicked, but his voice had (thank god) dropped enough that THAT song wasn't very possible. "Uhm... I can't think of any songs. You pick."

"I'm sorry," Ruby said, genuinely sympathetic. "Sometimes though... leavin's easier. Unfortunately." She took a long pull of her drink. "What d'you do now? In town that is?"

Katarina gave a slight shrug, “I’m not sure yet. I’ve been dancing my whole life and thought it might be time to consider other careers.” 

Ruby hummed. "Nothin' wrong with that. I've done... hell... six or seven different things since I got here? Only startin' to settle just recently on what I think I wanna do."

If Katarina was perfectly honest she wasn't entirely concerned what Ruby thought of the fact at the moment the former ballerina wasn't doing anything at the moment. It was kind of Ruby to say it anyway. "What is it that you finally settled on?" Katarina asked.

Ruby hadn't commented to get any particular reaction or response from the blonde. It was merely her own thoughts, probably more related to her own issues with finding a steady job than anything. "I think I'd like to be a PI. Find missing people

Katarina was about to respond when Sonya, her fox familiar, came running up to her. With a smile she picked Sonya up and placed the fox on her lap. "привет, где ты был," she asked. The fox yipped to tell Katarina that she had been exploring. Turning back to Ruby, she asked, "You wish to be a private investigator rather than a detective? Is there any reason for this?"

"You're gonna let me pick? Really?" Faye hummed thoughtfully. "Okay... first off... what do you absolutely not wanna sing?"

Miguel thought a minute but could only come up with a joke. "Anything from Sesame Street."

Faye grinned, "Don't think I won't..."

Miguel laughed and unlinked their arms so he could straighten up and take one of the microphones. "Whatever you'd like Faye, really."

Faye took the other microphone and grinned over at Miguel. "We'll knock their socks off no matter what we sing..."

Ruby smiled down at the little fox at Katarina picked her up. She was getting better at picking out the species by scent, but with so many people around tonight, it was hard. "Hello, lovely," Ruby smiled, acknowledging the little fox before she looked back to Katarina. "Let's just say a good friend inspired me," Ruby grinned, thinking of another fairy she knew. And missed.

"Ah, I forgot, people here know about familiars," Katarina said, "This is Sonya." She scratched the creature behind its ears. For her part Sonya looked over at Ruby and after deciding that she was more interested in her fairy's vodka started trying to drink that. With a good natured roll of her eyes she requested another glass from the bartender. "I assume this friend was a private investigator?" she asked, just to be sure.

"Nice to meet you, Sonya," Ruby said, grinning as the little fox started drinking the alcohol from the fairy's glass. Familiars were singular creatures, and Ruby didn't mind that the vodka was more interesting. "And she was, yeah," Ruby nodded. "She's a journalist now."

TBC

[samingtonwilson]

Relationship Tutor: (13) Competitive Confrontation

relationship tutor masterlist

Summary: College AU. Bucky, a relationship novice, asks for your help in dating your friend. Unable to say no to him, you agree despite everyone and everything telling you not to.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: LANGUAGE (sam says ‘fuck’ literally 5 times in one go fgdlkgj)

A/N: lol bet this wasn’t the chapter y’all thought it would be. i somehow wish i could post the next one like right NOW but imma let y’all sweat a bit

Though he was never one for clichés, Bucky once again forgot how to breathe. The rhythm, the frequency, the simple technique was lost on him. How many inhales came before one exhale? How many exhales before the next set of inhales? Was he meant to hold any of the air in, let it hit the corners of his lungs? How long was a breath meant to last anyway?

He attributed his difficulty, his loss of his every wit to your laughter, to the smile that lit your eyes like the Aurora Borealis rested in your irises as you sat in the corner of the messy living room, your back against the wall and your knees pulled to your chest.

The slight puffiness under your eyes, the state of your once impeccable eyeliner, the subtle stain left on your lips from lipstick that had long ago come off tightened his chest, the label half-torn from the bottle of cold water beside you.

To anyone else, you would have looked like four-A.M.— inky, bathed in extinguished energy, in residual smoke — but Bucky saw you and the way you nodded with a wrinkled nose as Steve told you a particularly boring story and could have sworn he’d never seen something so clear, pure, and bright. Like a sunrise.

How could he breathe in the midst of someone like that? How could he devote attention to anything other than the delighted noises you made, the angelic facial expressions you offered? Breathing seemed too ordinary, too banal to be worth any bit of his focus.

And he’d been having this difficulty all night— from the moment you’d walked into the party, actually.

You weren’t particularly happy at the time, a frown etched over your lips as hoards of unknown underclassmen spoke to you as if you’d been friends for eons. Unable to see such helplessness in your pleading eyes, he rescued you from the painful conversations and whisked you away to his bedroom, promising sanctuary and delivering his comfortable presence.

Sam eventually pulled you from the room, giving Bucky a confusingly knowing glare as he added, “Quit playing, man.”

Bucky was too afraid to ask what Sam had meant. Not because Sam was intimidating, but because he didn’t think he could hear the truth. He didn’t think he could bear confirmation on the thought that he’d been so transparent all along— as your adamant refusal to acknowledge what was so readily on the surface could only be an indication that this was all hopeless, that you weren’t in the same place he was.

Natasha thought that notion was ludicrous. She told Bucky of all the times you seemed to shut down, stiffen at her mentioning of him in any way exceeding platonic. She told Bucky of all the times you seemed to trail off, lose focus, become completely absent when he was in the same room.

“People don’t do that if they don’t have feelings, Barnes,” she’d told him, annoying smirk in place.

As it was, it was upon her insistence along with Steve’s that Bucky threw the party you were all currently sitting in the aftermath of— something about getting you alone while having the knowledge that emotional support was only a few feet away if need be. But he found himself hating the idea more and more as the night progressed.

It wasn’t as if he would find sudden strength in the emotional support he’d always had. What made this party different than any other he and Steve had ever thrown? Sure, it was more melancholic, more focused on the heartbreak he’d inflicted upon himself in anticipation of what was to come— but how was any of that meant to inspire a confession he’d held in for over a year? It took more than cheap booze, bad music, and emotional support to undo suppression like that.

Truthfully, all the party inspired in Bucky was a renewed desire to re-read The Great Gatsby.

You smiled up at him as he came to sit beside you, placing your water bottle the palm he held out. “I waited for you to rescue me, like, five times after Sam came to get me.”

“You finally tired of Wilson?”

You snorted and took the bottle back once he drank down half of it. “Did Natasha already leave?”

He nodded, relaxing against the wall behind him. “She has some performance tomorrow. Said she needs a lot of sleep before something like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he snorted, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“Wouldn’t you rather be around your girlfriend,” you said in a singsong voice, “than stuck here with us goofs?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, the term is juvenile and annoyingly possessory but I need to refer to her in some way.”

“You can just use her name. She was your friend first.”

You hummed out a sigh and seemed to slump into his side, his arm immediately going around you to rest upon your shoulders. “Seems like things are going well, though. You haven’t asked for my help for a few days.”

He frowned in consideration and nodded a moment later. “Yeah, I actually don’t think I need your help with Natasha anymore.”

It wasn’t a lie. He didn’t need your help with Natasha, he had no reason to need your help with Natasha. He needed your help with you.

Each time he wondered how to take all of this on, how to even begin bringing what he’d always kept so hidden to reality, he found himself wishing he could just ask you. You were the first person he thought of and the last— as was true for most circumstances.

You were trying miserably to hide your look of disappointment when he looked down at you, your lips drooping. An oddly shaky exhale left you and you straightened your posture, taking your warmth with you. “Good, I’m glad it’s going well.”

He was confused by the way you shut down thereafter, your eyes on your phone screen as your fingers toyed with your bottom lip. He briefly entertained the idea that Natasha might have been right, that the way you stiffened, the way you built walls around yourself whenever the two of them were brought up was an indication that you indeed had feelings for him. Feelings that might have an intensity deep enough to rival his.

It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later, when you rose from the floor and slipped on your boots, that the illusion broke. “Okay, it’s late so goodnight, boys. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I thought you were staying the night,” Steve replied, sending Bucky a dreadfully sympathetic frown.

You tucked your phone into the pocket of your jacket and nodded in the direction of a snoozing Sam laying on the couch. “He’s staying the night. I’ve got work in the morning and this place smells like the inside of a bottle of tequila. I’m leaving my car here, though— I shouldn’t drive like this.”

“You’re not walking back, are you?”

You gave Steve a disbelieving look. “Steve, I wouldn’t even walk back in broad daylight let alone at three in the morning. Tony’s been at Clint’s place upstairs since he left here so—”

“I can drive you back,” Bucky interjected, a sudden rush of blood burning his cheeks and ears at the mere prospect of Tony driving you back and likely staying the night.

You shook your head and offered him a small smile. “He’s going home right now anyway. It’d be out of the way for you.”

“But—”

“Bucky, just—” you sighed in what sounded like frustration and started towards the door, opening it before you turned around with a contradictory smile. “Just goodnight.”

As the slamming of the door rang in his ears and his jaw was clenched hard enough to shatter his teeth, Bucky’s head fell back against the wall again. He was praying Steve would let him sit in silence for a few moments, at least until the feeling that surged through him the moment you left subsided.

But Steve was never one to let an opportunity to scold go. “Are you the biggest fucking moron on the face of this planet?”

“What?” Bucky asked, glaring as he lifted his head and grimaced.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He scoffed. “What the hell am I supposed to do? Tell her to stop living her goddamn life because I’m too much of a fucking chicken to tell her how I feel? Tell her to stop living her life because it makes me unhappy?”

Steve shook his head. “Do you know how many of your problems would be solved if you just opened your fucking mouth without overthinking? You know for a communications major, you’re fucking terrible at communication.”

“Why would anyone communicate something that’s only going to lead to more shit?”

“Because this right here,” he began, motioning towards Bucky’s crestfallen state, “this looks like an incredible alternative.”

“You know what, —”

“Can you shut up?” Sam nearly shouted from the couch, flipping onto his side so his back faced Bucky and Steve. “Y/N, baby girl, tell them I need to sleep.”

“She’s not here,” Steve told him while sending Bucky a glare.

Sam sat up quickly, deep brown eyes wide and forehead creased. “What? You let her leave alone when she’s been drinking?”

“Tony’s giving her a ride.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” he yelled, throwing his hands up in bewilderment. He then pointed at Bucky with his index finger. “You! This is all on you!”

Bucky scowled. “Excuse me?”

“No, fuck you, dude. How the fuck are you so fucking dense? We just got rid of that tool a few weeks ago and— What the fuck did you do? Did you say something? Did you ask for more fucking advice?”

“What the hell do I have to do with any of this? That happened independent of me.”

Sam snorted and Bucky only felt his anger increase. “Nothing’s been happening independent of you for months now. What did you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything! She asked about Natasha and I and said I haven’t asked for advice in a while— all I said back was that I didn’t really need advice with Natasha anymore.”

“Oh, good. Then did you tell her you’ve never been so in love, that you’re walkin’ on fuckin’ air, that you’re so fuckin’ happy with Natasha—”

Bucky sighed heavily in defeat, his tone and volume far calmer than just moments ago. “Nat and I aren’t even together, Wilson. We ended it a while ago.”

His eyebrows came together. “So you’ve been lying? Why?”

“I haven’t been lying, I would never lie to her. I just didn’t tell her.”

“So you lied by omission? Much better.”

“What am I supposed to say, Wilson? ‘Oh, right, Natasha dumped me because she realized I’m insanely in love with you and I know you’ve probably ignored all the signs of how I feel out of pity, so thank you for that.’”

“You what?”

Bucky wore a mirthless smile. “Yeah, I got dumped by Natasha.”

“I don’t give a shit about that, Barnes.” Sam placed his elbows on his knees and leant forward. “You’re in love with her?”

“He has been for more than a year,” Steve replied, shaking his head as he took a sip from his bottle of water. “Follows her around like a—”

“Like a puppy— yeah, I know,” Sam’s voice was softer now, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he shook his head. “Unbelievable. I was right the whole time.”

Bucky sighed again. “What are you talking about, Wilson?”

Smooth features grew hard again. “Why’d you ask her to help you with Natasha? Was that some twisted way to make her jealous?”

He shook his head. “No, never. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Was it a twisted way of getting closer to her?”

“No. I was genuinely attracted to Nat and thought dating her properly would be nice and might help me move on from all of this.”

He hummed curtly and sat back. “We’re friends with a couple of fuckin’ idiots, Steve.”

“Wilson, —”

“Go to my place, Barnes,” he continued calmly, his smile a little bigger. “Go and talk to her. Tell her.”

“But —”

“Shut up, man. Just go and kick Stark out.”

PART 14: COMMUNICATION CERTIFICATION

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