#whilst the rest of his crew is just copying him

[glamaphonic]

the seemingly intimidating leather daddy who would stand up for you to the cops and who you could hide behind in the gay bar is in fact fang send post

[sxfterhearts]

convenience store comfort: a jongseob headcannon

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ non-idol!jongseob x angry + tired!y/n ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ genre/warnings: just fluff, seob and y/n aren't together (yet), reader is angry (!!) and jongseob is there to comfort her + calm her down <3 mentions of alcohol and late night CU shenanigans

♡ word count: 1.8k words, all dotpoints, lowercase and no punctuation intended (+ weird formatting grrr)

♡ author's note: a lot of people requested for jongseob. idk whether its bc im perfectionistic but im not 100% happy with this, so i will defs do another one soon to do him and your requests justice (╥ ᴗ ╥)

♡ a song to listen to: just dont know it yet, new hope club

//

you and seobie were dance class partners since you were in kindergarten :))) omg imagine little seob and little you jamming to songs – so adorable

you had your regular weekly meetup with the dance crew to go over some new choreography and jam to some new songs recommended by your crew members

the moment you entered the dance studio and locked eyes with jongseob (who was doing his regular warmups on the floor) he could already tell something was up

your hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, glasses resting crookedly on your head, sleeves rolled up unevenly - as though you just emerged from a hurricane

as you approached jongseob’s corner he lowkey panicked

he could see your eyebrows were scrunched up and your lips formed in an adorable pout - too adorable for him to keep a straight face, so he just muttered softly under his breath, “long day?”

you plopped down onto the floor next to him, immediately collapsing into a heap. you laid down with your head resting close to his lap, and arms and legs spread out, staring up at the ceiling. “couldn’t be worse,” you replied irritatedly.

the rest of practice went by in a blur - you could barely keep up with the moves - instead opting to linger at the back next to jongseob

you were trying to subtly copy his moves, but was promptly called out by your leader for slacking off and forgetting the moves from last week

by the time everyone vacated the studio, it was safe to say that you were pissed. and so done with life.

“should we go to CU?” jongseob asked, careful, as though he was walking on eggshells around you - unsure when you were about to explode.

“let’s go” you replied without even looking at him, snatching your bag off the ground and turning promptly on your heels, already making your way out of the studio.

“hey!! wait up, y/n!”

it became a tradition to grab snacks from the CU downstairs after difficult dance practices

it all started in high school, when jongseob was devastated after losing a dance comp and you tried to cheer him up by buying him every single flavour of gummy candies on offer 

(it didn’t really work, but when jongseob chewed on the pillowy soft bits of peachy goodness whilst staring at the funny faces you pulled to cheer him up, he could feel his tired heart begin to warm up)

“what do you- oh.” he was about to ask what you wanted, because it was his treat (by tradition: the person who is in charge of cheering the other up would pay), but the words caught in his throat when he followed you around the CU, leading him straight to the alcohol section – it mustve been pretty bad if you were reaching for the sojus

“are you having some?” you asked, without turning your head. you inspected the variety of alcohol on offer, and quickly settled on two bottles of unflavoured soju when he squeaked an affirmative yes in reply.

you quickly trotted over to the pouch drinks section and picked up the peach ade flavour without much deliberation, knowing that itwas jongseob’s favourite flavour, and two packs of peach gummy candies on the way to the counter (jongseob blushed because you remembered..)

he whipped out his card, paid for the drinks and snacks, and followed you like a little duckling to the bar seats by the windows

safe to say, after downing one whole bottle of soju (with barely any peach ade), you were a blubbering mess

“that.. that stupid, stupid, argh!!!” you munched furiously on the gummies, biting off their little heads first before chomping on their little bodies (jongseob almost felt bad for them) “why is he so incompetent?!”

you were referring to the new guy you were training at your workplace. initially jongseob was unsure how to feel about your newest colleague, especially after harbouring a silent, unrequited crush on you for the longest time. but his worries were quickly squashed after hearing you drunkenly curse out this guy’s name, followed by a string of… colourful words

“is it not common sense to… turn.. turn off the steamer after steaming the milk?? or to wipe spills, when you knock over,” you paused to hiccup, “a cup?” another hiccup

an adorable quirk of yours was that you started to hiccup if you drank or ate anything too quickly. jongseob handed you an opened bottle of green tea to slow down your drinking.

“i.. i mean! cmon! he’s so dumb!” you continued your little monologue, arms gesturing wildly - to the point that jongseob had to hold your hands steady and lead the bottle up to your mouth to make sure you were drinking something that was non-alcoholic.

“drink slowly,” he reminded you in an even tone. he kept trying to maintain a neutral expression but he had to admit that you were kinda funny in this drunken state, cute and frustrated

you hummed, listening to him as you stared at him with big eyes, gulping slowly. his adam apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed himself, feeling somewhat self-conscious now that your attention was completely on him

“why are you like this?” you asked after a few sips, suddenly looking like you were sober again

“like… like what?” jongseob asked nervously, like a deer caught in headlights - scared that he did something wrong.

“like this…” your pointer finger came up to poke his chest, and he felt his heart pound under your touch. 

jongseob just stared at you, confused

“just.. just like, you always… you take care of me so good…” you mumbled, finding the prints on his big oversized t-shirt very fascinating all of a sudden

now it was jongseob’s turn to widen his eyes - was this just the alcohol talking? he forced out a nervous laugh. “yeah, you’re always getting in trouble, so i always have to be there for you”

“yeah but, why?”

“cos…” jongseob looked away. between your finger on his chest and your gaze on his face, he couldn’t possibly look at you anymore without blurting out something he might regret. “cos.. youre you, and i’m me, and i’ve known you forever, and we always look out for each other” he began to nervously toy with lid of the soju bottle, unknowingly shaping the metal bit into a heart… “plus im not doing anything, you’re just letting out some steam”

“i get…” another hiccup “i mean i get that.. b-but like…” you paused, raising your open palm in front of his face to steal his attention. “like…”

he understood what you meant immediately and wordlessly poured a few peach gummies into your hands, his own larger ones coming to hold yours tenderly while doing so scream!!

you chewed slowly while in deep thought “like..”

“finish chewing first, y/n..” jongseob reminded, half-teasingly and half-seriously, worried that you might choke

“like! like… ah…” you sighed exasperatedly, taking a big gulp of green tea. you looked like you were solving a math problem in your head, which was concerning, because jongseob knew how much you hated math

“what are you trying to say exactly?” he couldnt help but to laugh at you. there were only a handful of times where he’s seen you get this drunk and every single time it ended up like this - you trying to have a coherent conversation with jongseob and him just playing along with your drunk antics

“seriously? i have no clue.” you said, defeated. with a big exhale, you extended your arms on the table and rested your head on top of it, facing him. you pointed at him again, as he watched you intently. “jongseob.”

“hmm?”

“it’s a disaster”

“what is? your day? i know that already - you just spent the past hour explaining that to me”

“no, well, y-yes, but no…” you trailed off, fingers wiggling accusatively at him while you scrunched up your nose. adorable, he thought. “it’s a disaster.” another hiccup

“why??? y/n, maybe it’s time we get you home…”

“no seobie, dont want to.” you shook your head and body violently in response. “want to stay here with you!”

jongseob felt his entire body tingle with warmth and slight embarrassment, because no way you meant it like that… no way, this is unrequited love after all, right? 

“seobie…” you looked at him, eyes filled with emotions jongseob can’t really figure out. was it a pleading expression? or were you asking for something? he wasnt sure - but one things for sure - he would give you anything you wanted

“...yeah?”

“can you… can we just stay here for a bit? im tired…” you reached out for him with grabby hands, and he complied easily - after all, he would give you the world

your hands gripped tightly to jongseobs, as you started another round of monologues, “you know, sometimes… sometimes i think i just need someone to listen to me. you do that really well. and its like when i tell you about what bothers me, the worries… they just…”

“...disappear?” he finished for you, squeezing your hand in response. he couldnt help it - his neutral facade broke. at the start of the night, he was a little scared and unsure of what to expect. you were hard to read when you were emotional. but now, sitting here next to you in the 24hr convenience store, one bottle of soju and two packets of peach gummies deep into the night, he felt the corner of his lips turn upwards. after all, he would always go along with whatever you wanted

“yeah.” you smiled at him, eyes blinking slowly, as though you were about to fall asleep. after a while, you felt the fatigue seep into your bones and overtake your entire body, and succumbed to its temptations. 

you shifted in your seat to get comfortable and snuggled into jongseob’s arms like a body pillow, pulling him closer and closer to you. it was a slightly awkward position for jongseob, and he could feel the pins and needles starting to prickle on his limbs, but then, after a moment of silence, you muttered something under your breath.

“what is it? do you need something? is it uncomfortable?”

you giggled, his response so characteristic of him. he was always doting on you, always making sure you were alright, always ready at your beck and call. it gave you more confidence to repeat your words: “jongseob, i think im in love with you”

the poor boy nearly choked on air - but held it in so as to not compromise your position. “you… you what? what?”

“i love you, jongseob.” you said, cracking one eyelid open. just to prove your point, you brought his hand to your lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his hand, and then with the accuracy of a tipsy person, you pushed his hand towards his lips.

“there. we kissed, indirectly.” you said, satisfied with yourself, bursting into another round of giggles. 

jongseob, ohmygosh, he didnt know what to do. his brain shortcircuited and he just sat there, letting you laugh at him while the tips of his ears turned bright red

[multiplicationdivision]

The Transmutation Crew

It wasn’t uncommon to see a construction crew that was entirely identical these days.

It wasn’t cloning, not exactly. With the advent that was transmutation technology, even duplication wasn’t out of the question, but these copied crews did not come from mitosis.

Transmutation was the simple conversion of one material to another. Using a small sample of rare material and converting cheap shit into it. Clay could become ultrahard steel, paint could become a thick gold coating. Construction sites were rife with the machines, letting off heavy bangs as entire freshly built structures were changed at the atomic level into sturdy workings of titanium and diamond.

Like anything on a construction site, there was an expected level of risk. One would fear the conversion of a man becoming hard rock, but this technology had laws. Like became like, inanimate struggled to be animate and vice versa. This risk was rather functionally pretty harmless.

Foreman Adams operates the transmutator, the closest position to the samples of once-rare resources stored at its core. Foreman Adams flips the switched to convert cheap plywood to mahogany, and his own signal echoes outwards as well.

3 men taking a break just a little too close look at their new shared faces, clade in the same belt tucked shirt and blue jeans that had been pristine a decade ago, but were now clung with dust. 2-year-old boots they could all remember shelling out a fair bit of money for, worth it for how well they’d held up.

These new memories always sat comfortably by the original mind. One of the men, Dustin, wouldn’t think twice about how one half of him had been so much shorter a second ago whilst the other felt that he’d functionally teleported away from the machine that his original self was still operating. Dustin would just down the rest of his water and stretch his new bulkier form, absent-mindedly wondering if Adams would let him come home with him that night. Spend a night with his foreman’s rocking husband, reenact countless memories of that man getting fucked by small armies of Adams.

These transformations were typically temporary. Selfhood was overpowering and most people’s identities would win out in the end, shoving off the new skin and memories after a night of rest. Possibly retaining a few errant qualities of the shift that fit well into the original self, acquiring a small amount of muscle or confidence for their trouble. That took practice though, so most of them expected the new kids to fall under the influence of one of their elders for a bit. Or for forever, either or.

A college drop-out they’d picked up a while back hadn’t been on the job for a day before one of their veterans, Roland, had unwillingly taken him under his wing. A single blast and that kid’s face had seemingly shifted permanently, all his shaggy hair shortening into a clean cut and scraggly beard rapidly becoming well-kept. They’d expected the new appearance to fade in a month, but it had been a few too many by this point and it was safe to assume the Rolands would remain a pair. Not that those two were complaining, all buddy buddy between themselves, the drop-out assuming Roland’s identity so much that none on the crew even got to learn his old name. Roland happy to share his house and cigarettes with a man who shared all of his tastes.

Some people were suited to their own self. Call it narcissistic, but each of them enjoyed their turn. It was why operator duty of the transmutator was always an alternating duty. Each of them enjoying a day to themselves, in a way. It was bonding, being this vulnerable. The whole crew having access to every single one of each other’s deep internal lives, understanding it as they did. Mateo’s love for partying, shared across each of the crew after work, picking up chicks and twinks as an identical legion. Archie’s drinking problems, leading his identically bodied friends to embrace the man’s passion for football, all of them shouting for the same team as they lay across each other on a too small couch in one of their living rooms. Lucas’s daredevil tendencies leading five or six of them with broken arms and ecstatic grins in the hospital, regretting nothing and daring to do more the next go around.

This job was one of absolute connection and it wasn’t for the faint of heart. Countless amounts of prospective workers turning away when their soul wasn’t willing to play with new faces, was too rigid to go with the flow. The ones that stayed embraced it, trading jabs and inside jokes as they got to know each other from the inside out. Jose’s body craved a good steak no matter the time. Dallas’s brain was somehow still closeted, despite having fucked countless genders in everyone of his buddies’ bodies. Archie would get amusingly embarrassed even when another one of himself joked about how much they masturbated, especially so when the definition of masturbation was quite stretched in their cases.

Tonight, the guys would likely all go home in Pedro’s truck. Each of them shrugging off the man’s high vis vest in a pile of replicated clothing by the door. Pairs of them fitting into a shower before relaxing outside with their small army of clones. Inevitably curling up with as many as could fit on the bed, enjoying the way their shared brains didn’t mind the overbearing closeness of so many bodies. The newest of their crew would spend too long in the bathroom, acquainting themselves with every curve of Pedro’s older body as the veterans fought over blankets as their favorite talk show murmured in front of them. They’d probably fuck a bit, then pass out. Wake up to some of them in their own bodies as the remaining clones made breakfast, acting as good hosts for their “guests”.

They was nothing closer than a construction crew these days. Nothing like transmutation to make you trust them like you trust yourself, literally placing your life in their hands.

It was the good life, and twenty of the same face could attest to that.

[edens-serigala]

sanji & his mother headcanons that i bullied @jinx13gxa2 with last night

sanji collects jewellery that he thinks his mother would like and wear

blue was her favourite colour, so he collects blue gemstone earrings, and blue sea glass items, and he keeps them in a wooden jewellery box with a painted sunset on the lid

there's a pin cushion inside that's shaped like a cloud that keeps the earrings, and hooks to try and prevent tangling in necklaces and bracelets and anklets

the box sits in his locker, mostly unused, until one day sanji bites the metaphorical bullet and asks chopper or zoro or law to pierce his ears

he doesn't wear a set every day, only does so when he's missing her, because it's easier to grieve when there's something tangible that he can hold and remember her by

the earrings really bring out his blue eyes, and nami and robin compliment him every time he wears a set

he tends not to wear necklaces, bracelets or especially anklets, for fear that they'll break in battle or get in the way when he's cooking, but he's never been massive on jewellery, the added weight is just nice to feel on days where he needs that grounding

during or at the end of the whole cake island incident, reiju snuck sanji an old photo of him and his mother that sora used to keep in her hospital room. this one:

at first, sanji planned to keep it in the jewellery box with the rest of his memorial to her, but it never stayed in there for long

he'd often take it out and put it on a shelf in the kitchen so he could look at it throughout the day, whilst he's cooking, and eventually, that became its permanent home

when sanji first got the photo, the crew would often watch as sanji would... stop and just smile at it. hold it close and trace her face.

the crew can't help sanji with this particular issue, he won't let them. even if a lot of them know the specific pain of losing their own mothers, sanji doesn't want them near the issue

but he loves, and they love him right back

there's a collective promise between the straw hats and sora that they'll take care of sanji and be proud of him for her, that she doesn't need to worry about sanji being alone anymore

sanji asks usopp if he'd be able to draw and re-create the photo so he'd have backups in the event that the original was damaged or lost

usopp is nervous about the idea, worries that it won't be good enough, but sanji asks him anyway. (and every copy that usopp makes becomes just as precious to sanji as the original, because where the original connects him to his mother, all the copies additionally connect him to his crewmate, and they make him happy)

there are a couple non-jewellery pieces that are kept in sanji's box, one of which being a glass sculpture of a sprig of bluebell, made from frosted blue and green glass

it's one of sanji's favourite pieces, and sometimes he'll take it out, as well, and set it next to his mother's photo for the day. bluebells were always her favourite flower

part 1: sanji & his birthday

[adventuresinobx]

Love in Secret - Chapter 1

Drew Starkey x fem!reader

Summary: You’ve been dating Drew Starkey in secret for a number of weeks now, but how long ‘til that secret comes out on a set where everyone’s like family?

A/N: This has been soooo long in the works and I feel like it’s going to end up being a long-running fic, with multiple chapters if people like it! Anyway, I hope you like it and I am so invested in this couple, it’s unreal.

Words: 4k.

Warnings: Just lots of cute stuff, if you end up falling for Drew more after this then I’m sorry in advance haha

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you enjoyed the calming sounds of the beach.

You loved this time of day, when the beach was quiet and the sun was slowly setting.

It was such a peaceful time and since you’d been in Charleston for three months now with the clock ticking on your days here until filming wrapped, you felt you should explore the place a bit more whilst you still could. 

You’d moved here to work on the show but once it was over, you’d be back far away in a much rainier and colder part of the States.

There was a cool breeze that moved through the Isle of Palms as you looked out into the ocean, a few older people dotted around but it was pretty quiet.

One couple were enjoying a sunset stroll on the beach as you watched on longingly. That looked fun, and cute.

You’d never had a boyfriend til now, to be fair you didn’t even have a boyfriend right now but you’d been seeing Drew for about four weeks and things were going great. 

“Ok love?” you heard a voice say from behind you.

You knew who you wanted it to be but it was just an older man, a local to the area.

“Yes thank you, enjoying the last bit of sun,” you replied, smiling at the man as you looked out to the sea.

“Well have a good evening ma’am,” he replied before he called to his dog and headed off down the beach.

Your face dropped as soon as he was out of view as you watched the couple take photos of one another on the golden sand.

You snapped a photo of the beautiful view and texted Drew, telling him you’d be calling in 30 seconds.

“Looks beautiful,” he replied to your message as he answered the FaceTime call.

It was hard for you two to go out at all, especially in Charleston.

Everyone knew his face and wanted to chat to him and take pictures, so whilst you were keeping this relationship a secret from everyone - including the cast and crew - you couldn’t be seen together.

You understood that - in fact, it was your idea to keep it secret.

Drew had wanted to think about telling some close people - Chase to start with - and then slowly spreading the news to the other members of the cast and then wider still.

You weren’t so keen straight away, worried what they all might think if they’d known Drew had fallen in love with someone who worked on set.

“Hey love,” he said softly, as he pulled you out of your thoughts.

Seeing him smiling always made you happy; whatever mood you were in, he was able to lift your spirits within seconds.

“Hey, you look handsome today,” you told him, flashing him a cheeky smile as he awkwardly rubbed his head in slight embarrassment.

“Thanks beautiful,” he replied back, a bashful tone to his voice, “Wish I was there with you. It looks so peaceful.” 

You smiled and nodded, flicking the camera so he could see what you could.

Blue skies, with the sun slowly setting on the horizon, and the sea gently lapping at the beach.

You turned the camera back to face you after a few moments and rested your head on your hand, staring at the man on the screen in front of you.

He looked so good with his strong jawline and such a gentle smile that made you melt every time you saw it. 

Even after all this time, his smile still made you weak.

You listened carefully as he told you about his day, how he’d popped into town to get you two something for dinner tonight and something to drink too.

He saw a cute book - yes another one - which he wanted to buy so he bought two copies, one for you to read and one for him.

Being with Drew Starkey was like having your own couples’ book club.

The two of you stayed up for hours reading books together and enjoying each other’s company, sometimes even into the early hours of the morning.

Only on weekends though - as you worked on set Monday to Friday and Drew was busy in the week too. 

“Coming over later then?” he asked, looking briefly away from the camera as he clocked the pile of ingredients he’d left on the counter ready.

“Half an hour, forty minutes ok?” you asked, knowing it’d take you a good 20 minutes to drive back.

“Yeah everyone’s out tonight already, any time is fine,” he replied. Most couples didn’t have to make such specific plans but you two did because Drew lived in an apartment block with his cast mates, which made keeping the secret even harder.

“I’ve got pasta in a white wine sauce for tonight, was hoping you’d come be my sous chef,” he teased, “Or maybe I could be yours.”

You giggled, more so at the smile on his face as he threw his head back and laughed.

He thought he was so funny, but that was even more endearing to you.

“You can be mine,” you quipped back, “You know I cook better than you.”

He feigned slamming his hand into his chest hard and threw his head back dramatically, as he pretended to be offended by what you said.

Returning to look back at you through the screen, he laughed.

“You do, but I’m good at some stuff.” You snorted, shaking your head.

“The bedroom?” he said so matter of factly that you almost threw your head back laughing.

“You’re ok,” you teased back.

He was more than ok in the bedroom, just for the record. 

“Anyway, stop talking and get your bum back to the flat. I miss you,” he whined, your heart fluttering.

“I miss you too babe,” you said as you hung up the call, but not before giving him a kiss through the phone.

***

It took about 45 minutes for you to get back to the apartment block Drew shared with his colleagues.

As crew, you were in another block about three streets away so you parked your car at yours and walked over to his.

Making sure to press the right buzzer - imagine if the others had been home and you’d called the wrong one - Drew almost ran over to the intercom system when he heard it go.

He was confronted by a fuzzy video of you standing at the door, a safety feature, but he was taken aback by your beauty even in the dark.

“Pizza delivery,” you said with a laugh, as he buzzed you in and you headed upstairs to his place.

He only had a small apartment - his request - as it felt more like home for him  when he was way from LA.

He kept it very clean, for a 20-something year old man anyway, and there were piles of books and plays around everywhere.

“Hey beautiful,” he said, the door already open for you, as he greeted you from the doorway, his tall figure leant against the frame.

“Hi,” you replied, stepping towards him. You loved the height difference between the two of you.

Him being so tall made him even more attractive. You went up on your tiptoes and kissed him on the lips.

He smelt of cigarettes and aftershave and even after this long, that scent made you weak.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you deeper into the kiss.

You sighed contently as he kept his gentle grip of you, but moved to place a kiss on the top of your head.

“Drive ok?” he asked, the answer obvious since you were here fine but you nodded and cuddled into him more.

He was wearing a casual T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and you thought he looked just as good now as he did in a navy suit a few weeks ago on set.

He hadn’t filmed for a few days so there was a bit of stubble on his face, enough for you to feel it against your skin just before he broke the hug between the two of you. 

He stood to the side to let you into the apartment and you kicked your shoes off, chucking your bag on the nearby chair as you made your way to the kitchen straight away.

“C’mon baby, time to prove your worth,” you teased as you held up the pan and a spatula.

***

“Ready baby,” you called out to Drew, who had just popped out the room for a moment to have a cigarette on the balcony.

You weren’t meant to smoke out there but he’d be damned if he was going to go ALL the way downstairs to have a quick drag of a cigarette.

The two of you had cooked dinner together, drank a couple of glasses of wine already and were having the best time together.

“Coming,” he shouted back, as he made his way into the kitchen area, coming behind you and wrapping his arms around you carefully.

He sighed contently, resting his head on top of yours as he took a deep breath.

His fingers grazed over your tummy, a sliver of skin poking out as you leant back into him, making you giggle.

You eventually broke away from him and took the pan over to table, him following behind with the two plates and some cutlery.

You got the glasses of wine whilst he got what was left of the bottle and put it on the table.

You were about to sit down when he rushed over to you and pulled your chair out for you, making you laugh. 

“Drew you don’t have to do that every time,” you giggled, as you sat down and he pushed the chair in from behind you.

“I know, but I want to,” he replied, leaning down to kiss you on the head one more time before he sat down himself opposite you.

The food looked - and tasted - delicious and he served it out to you both before settling down to eat his.

The two of you talked over dinner, chatting about your days and you had said how long filming had been today because the scene didn’t quite play out right.

“Amateur Chase is,” Drew snorted, joking about his best friend of course but it still made you laugh more than it should - maybe that was the alcohol though.

“Complete amateur like you,” you teased back, and you playfully poked your tongue out at him.

As the laughter died down, Drew approached that one question again, fully expecting to be shot down once more.

“Love,” he began, looking up through his eyelashes as you immediately sensed what was coming, “Speaking about Chase. Have you thought any more about what I said? About telling him about us.”

Chase was Drew’s best friend of the cast. They always went on man dates together and spent days off with one another. They had even quarantined together with Chase’s ex when they filmed during Covid. 

“I don’t know Drew,” you said, fidgeting with your fork and spoon in your bowl.

“I don’t know if I’m ready yet,” you muttered quietly, your hands moving from the table to your lap as you awkwardly rung them together.

“It’s ok, I get that,” he said, his voice even more hushed and gentle than normal, “But Chase will love that we’re together. He has so much respect for you and what you do and he would be so happy if he knew how happy you made me.”

He trailed off with the last few words, a half smile on your lips.

“I know, but I’m just crew - and you’re a big Hollywood actor,” you said, pain in your voice and he could tell. 

“You’re much more than ‘just’ anything,” he said, smiling at you as he reached out his hand to grab yours over the table.

You moved your hand back to the table so he could reach better as he interlocked your fingers together. You squeezed his hand back lightly, trying to lighten the mood by making a joke.

“Plus Chase is such a blabbermouth when he’s drunk, he can’t help himself,” you quipped back, managing a little laugh as you and Drew both stood up to tidy the table. “

“That he is,” he replied, knowing tonight wasn’t the time to ‘argue’ that Chase was the best secret keeper.

Gosh if you had known some of the things the pair of them did during season one filming that would never be spoke of again.

As you had mainly cooked, Drew did the washing up before putting everything out to dry on the rack.

You, on the other hand, had set up the sofa with blankets and pillows to make sure you were both comfy when you settled down to read.

The sofa in the living room at Drew’s was also a sofa bed but the two of you kept it out most of the time like this so you could relax properly.

The light for reading was better in here than in the bedroom. Drew had put some quiet and relaxing music on for the pair of you to chill with whilst you finished off one of his favourite books.

His copy was so old, had a broken spine and everything as it had been read so many times, whilst yours was fairly new, as he had bought it for you only a week or so ago to read with him.

Once everything was put away, Drew made his way to the sofa where you had been sat reading the book he had gifted you.

He sat down next to you, putting his feet up on the sofa and patting his stomach for you to lie down on him as you read.

“How you enjoying it so far baby?” he asked, keen to discuss it with you.

The two of you chatted through the book as you shared your theories on what might happen next and he just giggled in response, knowing you were so wrong.

You were cuddled into his chest, your legs semi tangled with his as you briefly paused reading for a moment to listen to the sound of his heartbeat.

It was a steady and beautiful rhythm that calmed you down instantly. He decided against reading tonight, just wanting to be with you instead.

Drew moved his hand to your side and carefully pushed it lightly under your top.

Not too high, just enough so he could touch your bare and warm skin.

“Mmm,” he sighed, nuzzling his nose in your hair and taking a deep breath.

You breathed out too, moving your hand briefly off your book to touch his affectionately before snuggling into him. The two of you had mastered this perfect position to relax in.

You were faced slightly to the side so you could use the sofa bed mattress to balance your book on, whilst he would lie behind you, almost spooning you.

You’d rest your head on his chest, tangle his legs with yours and if he wasn’t reading too, he’d have one hand underneath you and the other on your tummy or hip.

You snuggled back into him, feeling the warmth of his body radiate against yours.

He was so comfy and cosy and this all felt too much like a dream.

Maybe it was the wine or your contentness but soon you felt your eyelids growing heavy as you struggled to keep them open.

You put the book down on its front to keep the page as you wiggled back into Drew and felt his arms tighten their grip around you.

You yawned and turned your head to bury it in his chest, relishing in the sound of his steady breathing.

“Just a five minute nap and I’ll go,” you said, checking the time on your phone which was placed face down on the mattress in front of you.

“Ok beautiful,” he whispered back, his voice quiet and hoarse.

You closed your eyes and felt him press a light kiss to your head and then another to the back of your neck before you dozed off.

***

Shit, you internally screamed as your alarm went off.

You woke up, looking around panicking as a sleepy Drew moved next to you when he felt your frantic movements. 

You shuffled yourself away from him, sitting up quickly as you pulled your phone right up to your face to check that really was the time. 6am - and it was Wednesday morning.

“Ohhh shit,” you said loudly, alerting Drew to your panicked state as you tried to rush out of bed.

“What’s up, what’s wrong?” he said, no sleepiness in his voice now as he was worried about you.

“My alarm, work,” you replied, panicking. You didn’t want to be late of course but now you were presented with an even bigger problem.

How the hell were you going to get out of here without the others seeing you?

You had always left either late at night or early hours in the morning (Drew had always walked you home) or on some occasions, Drew stayed with you as it was sort of easier for him to sneak out of your building than his.

He could feign some stupid excuse for being at the crew block of flats as it was just over the road from where the directors and writers lived, but you’d be damned if you could explain why or how you’d ended up in the cast’s apartment block.

“It’ll be ok baby, I’ll get you a taxi,” he said, trying to calm you down.

“It’s not that Drew, how do I get out of here?” you said, taking a deep breath.

Last night everyone had gone out for drinks and food so you’d been able to sneak in unnoticed.

Now they’d all be back and the chance of one of them seeing you would be very high. He didn’t know if it was the right time to joke, but he was going to.

“You could go on the balcony and scale down the drainpipe,” Drew said, trying not to laugh as a smile spread on his face.

The sound of his muffled laughing made you relax too for just a moment.

“I’m not Spiderwoman,” you replied back, giggling as you laid back down.

Two more minutes weren’t going to make any difference now, plus you needed to work out some sort of plan in your head.

“Don’t come at me like that,” you said turning to face him, your head still on his chest, “when you don’t even do your own stunts.”

He feigned spluttering as he shook his head.

“You’re on thin ice,” he jokingly warned her, “I do all my own stunts thank you.” 

You kissed his chest delicately to prove you were only messing about all the stunt stuff, but not before adding another cheeky remark.

“Not that one with Madelyn, or that one with JD,” you said, referencing the bit where he had to nearly drown his sister and kick Pope to a pulp in the forest.

“Well no,” he replied, “but that’s because that involved hurting people.”

You nodded, rolling your eyes jokingly before cuddling back into your man.

“Anyway, in all seriousness,” he began, “It’ll be fine, we’ll get you out of here and to work before anyone even notices, no trouble.”

You nodded as Drew briefly broke apart from you to roll over to get his phone.

“Let me check their call times, we’ll know when they’re up then and we can work out the plan, but I don’t think anyone will be around yet,” he told you as he scanned through his emails.

As he checked today’s date, he saw everyone that was filming today was on a late call time - midday - as they were filming into the evening tonight except for Chase who had some early morning scenes and his call time was 7am at the production office.

“It’s just Chase up early today,” he said, putting his phone down, “but I bet he’ll be gone already. Let me go check.”

He sat up on the edge of the sofa bed and yawned as he did his first stretch of the day, uncoiling all the knots in his body from his sleep - which he might have said was the best sleep of his life having your there next to him. 

He had somehow managed to take off his shirt in the middle of the night - how did you not remember him moving? - and you took the moment to look at the muscles on his back.

He wasn’t overly muscular but it was perfect for you. You wanted to just run your hands all over his back and feel every little dip and curve of his muscles but there wasn’t really time for that this morning.

Your call time was in an hour and a half too. 

He stood up, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips as he made his way to the window which overlooked the parking lot for the building.

Chase’s car always stuck out like a sore thumb but it wasn’t there so he must have already left for work. 

Thank goodness, now you didn’t need to rush too much. 

“You’re in the clear babe, Chase’s car isn’t there, and there’s no way any of the others would be up now if they’re not in til at least lunchtime,” he told you as he walked back over to you.

He leant down to kiss you on the lips as you used your hands to push yourself up to meet him. It was tough for a 6 foot 4 man to get that low down.

“It was nice you stayed last night,” he said, walking to the kitchen to put the kettle on for you both, “Slept the best I did in years.”

You smiled and blushed, knowing how much he’d struggled with his sleep in the past after he opened up to you about his insomnia.

“I’m glad you did,” you replied, getting out of bed and taking your hairbrush out of your bag.

Thank goodness you carried one around with you, you really needed it this morning.

You headed to the bathroom to brush your teeth, forced to use your finger since you didn’t have a toothbrush with you, but you figured you’d just sort it when you got home.

With both yours and Drew’s breath now minty fresh, you returned to the main room to give him a few more kisses as you waited for the kettle to boil.

He made you a cup of coffee - drop of milk, two sugars - and he made his own too before moving back to sit on the edge of the sofa bed with you next to him.

“Did you sleep ok?” he asked after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“Mhm, perfect,” you replied, clutching the hot cup of coffee in both your hands.

He liked that you had slept well too and he was glad to have played a small part in it.

You finished as much of your coffee as you could before standing up and heading into his bedroom so you could check you looked vaguely presentable in the mirror before you left.

“You look beautiful,” Drew said, a goofy smile on his face as he leaned on the doorframe and looked at you sorting yourself out in the mirror.

“No I don’t,” you replied back, not even compliment fishing but just genuinely knowing you didn’t look great in last night’s clothes and bed hair.

“You do,” Drew replied, always adamant to have the last word. You scoffed and giggled before deciding it was now or never, time to make your break out.

“I’m going to go babe,” you called to him a smile on your face as you leant in for one more final kiss by the door. 

“See you tonight,” he replied back, you shh-ing him as you went to open the front door.

“See you tonight,” you said back, a lot quieter than he had done. You flung your bag on your shoulder and headed towards the stairs.

He was on the second floor so it was just a quick two flights and you’d be out of here and on safe ground.

As you went down the first flight of stairs, you could hear loud talking and laughing approaching the stairwell.

You recognised the voices straight away - it was Laci and JD.

“Fuck,” you thought, wondering whether to run back up to Drew’s place or to just get out of there quickly.

You didn’t have a moment to think, that was the problem, and you could hear their voices getting closer and closer. This had to be a split second decision.

You heard the sound of the door to the stairwell go. You didn’t have a moment longer to decide what to do - it was a case of up the stairs or down them.

Whatever you decided, you just couldn’t get caught.

A/N: Ahhh I love ending with a cliffhanger! So the first chapter is done. I’d really like to make this into a long running fic if I can. I am heavily invested 😂 so please let me know if you’d like a part 2! As always, I really appreciate any reblogs, likes or comments I get. You guys are the best 🥰🥰

[bbykeijis]

heyyy. i’m back, missed me? nah jk, my brother eats MY jar of biscoff crunchy spread. mf refuses to drive to buy more, it’s not even a 20 minute drive! pain. anygay, i loves the mha x blk uk reader, tysmmm. could i get the same with inarizaki( where aran the y/n bond together cs of obvious reasons)? preferably fem reader. and osamu and y/n bonding over food. btw out of curiosity, where are you from? i mean i know we’re both brits by nationality but like ethnicity? i’m nigerian. byee ily<3

iNARIZAKi W/ A BLACK BRiTISH MANAGER

summary: atsumu can’t handle your humour, suna fucks w/ daves music, and you & aran are fed up with people’s behaviour <3 (black!reader)

author’s note: hi! i’m from zimbabwe lmao,, thanks for asking :) & i hope this is what you had envisioned!

genre & warnings: comedy ! language !

when you joined the inarizaki as their team manager, everyone was interested for obvious reasons but when you opened your mouth and they heard your accent???

“are you british?” “yeah?” “do you drink tea?” “do you let the water run between your asscheeks???”

you made atsumu cry. everyone loves your energy. dw though, call atsumu a peng ting and suddenly he’s the most attractive person on earth <3 he’ll never let you love that down <3

y’all argue but it’s all love ig. the team lets you fire it out and suna will record the whole thing for his snapchat story lmaooo

you know when people get up to some bullshit & we look at the other black person in the room and just connect mentally?? you & aran go through this everyday whilst with the team </3

“y/n, you seeing this?” “yeah, i’m seeing this. are you seeing this?” “yeah 😟”

the rest of the crew are just there… tryna work out what you’re doing.

“stay out of black business” 🙄‼️

the boys invite you everywhere! you & osamu have this unspoken tradition where you’ll choose a meal for each other every restaurant you go to

the others aren’t allowed to participate <3

& make them traditional meals!! nigerian meals!! carribbean meals !! south african cuisine!! all of that. aran & osamu will love you forever frfr

i think suna would be into a lot of uk artists,, i can see him having a few dave songs in his playlist. it’s not uncommon for the two of you to have late night drives listening to a playlist the two of you made <3

oh! kita appreciates your honesty & humour. you don’t take bullshit from anyone & he respects you that

everyone on the team is lucky and happy to know you,, thank you for making inarizaki’s team an amazing one <3

© all rights reserved. all content published on this blog belongs to me, bbykeijis. please refrain from copying, stealing, profiting off my works. i do not allow my works to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

[mooshys]

take-out menus aren’t meant for ordering

genre: fluff

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: a slight character study for miya atsumu between a conversation with his brother and the writing of his vows. the word “slight” being underlined, highlighted, and circled multiple times.

There is a take-out menu laying on the empty counter of Onigiri Miya, spread out completely flat so that it is no longer in its trifold state. The paper has a nice gloss to it, giving an even sheen when underneath the low lights. Its pages are filled with professional pictures of the food offered, appetizing from a single glance and even more-so with the descriptions added underneath them.

But, sitting at the counter and staring at the empty spaces on the page, Atsumu isn’t looking to order. At this point in time, he’s too frustrated to even think about eating. He makes sure his struggle is known, groaning just loud enough so that his brother can hear him.

And, by the fifth prolonged sigh, his brother notices.

Osamu thinks it’s annoying. Really annoying. He wonders why his brother always decides to settle all his baggage into his restaurant instead of actually finding guidance from a trained professional.

(Free therapy, he thinks. He should give himself a raise for having to deal with his brother when he’s working behind the counter.)

“What’s the matter, ‘Tsumu?” Osamu finally asks in an attempt to get his brother to stop making his restaurant feel so gloomy. He’s glad it’s only the two of them during the odd hour because he’s sure Atsumu would have driven people out with his attitude.

Atsumu exhales, so deep and long that one might think he has some sort of pre-existing health condition. His pause before speaking makes Osamu think he’s preparing a soliloquy. 

“I can’t think of anything to write.”

Osamu raises a brow. Then he chuckles. “Can’t do much of that if you don’t have a brain to start with.”

He quickly dodges a pair of wooden chopsticks thrown in his direction and laughs as his brother seethes in his seat. Predictable as always. He didn’t even need to rely on his twin telepathy to know Atsumu’s next move.

“This is serious!” Atsumu yells out. His voice echoes and Osamu puts on his Totally Serious Face to show his brother that he does cares (at least a smidgeon). “The vows. I can’t think of anything to write for ‘em.”

Now, Osamu stares at him with more interest, a twinkle in his eyes that gleams only for a second before he throws his head back to give out a hearty laugh. It’s the kind of laugh Osamu does when he’s really, really happy. Like when the entire Inarizaki crew surprised him for his birthday by buying him out for the night, or when he won two thousand yen from the lottery. While Atsumu sits in disbelief (because was his suffering truly that hilarious?), Osamu shakes his head to compose himself again.

“C’mon, it shouldn’t be too hard to come up with something,” Osamu says. He points to a blank space on the first page. “Start it off right next to the tuna onigiri, that’s real romantic when you say your vows with our number one seller in mind.”

Atsumu groans again. How can he be joking at a time like this? When it feels like his life (his love life, that is) is at stake? He was about to yell out a slew of vulgar words, but his stomach interrupted him, choosing to speak up with a loud grumble. Red in the face, Atsumu shuts up, shrinking in his seat under the gaze of his brother.

“No wonder your brain capacity’s lower than usual,” Osamu teases. “You’re hungry.”

“Whatever.”

“The usual?”

“...Whatever.”

Osamu rolls his eyes. “Quit actin’ like a baby.”

“I’m not actin’ like a baby!” Atsumu cries out in a manner that reminds Osamu of a baby. “I can’t keep puttin’ this off! In a week, I’ll have to say this in front of everyone and they’re gonna think I’m an idiot because I can’t come up with anything good!”

“Trust me, nobody’s gonna think you’re an idiot at your wedding because of your vows,” he replies and bites his tongue to suppress the insult following. “If you write it too deep and poetic and pretty, then everyone’s gonna think you hired someone or that you copied it off the internet.”

“But—”

“Trust me,” Osamu repeats. He doesn’t look up as he molds the rice in his hands, creating a triangular shape. Years of practice have allowed him to do it so easily, so perfectly that Atsumu can’t help but stare. “Say the things that come easy for you. The things you’ve said before and the things you’ve been meaning to say. That’s what you should write.”

With the exception of the sound of tuna searing in the back and the occasional drip from the faucet nearby, there is a serene quietness shared between the two. Atsumu mulls over his brother’s words, thinking that it honestly sounds like advice that you would have given him, but he brushes it off and then looks back at the blank spaces in the take-out menu. The empty spots are almost inviting him to scribble all over.

“Alright,” Atsumu says as he clicks the pen in his hand and starts jotting any and all thoughts. “Think she’ll be mad I wrote my vows on a menu?”

Osamu chuckles as he places the plate of onigiri in front of his brother.

“Absolutely not.”

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

There are two take-out menus stored in a little box hidden in the bottom drawer of your dresser. The paper for both of them are wrinkled and yellowing, a clear testament of the time that has passed since first exchanging them. Scribbles of ink take up the empty spaces, the words uneven and crossed out and misspelled after multiple attempts to write from the heart.

At times, you find them in the midst of cleaning or a sudden remembrance whilst watching a film. The box is dug out from the neatly folded shirts and shorts meant to be worn in the upcoming summer season, and, upon lifting the lid in one gracious motion, the vows are always there, waiting to be read again and again. Each time, something new pops up, strikes you with a “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that!” moment as your fingers gently trace over his words.

Sometimes it’s the slight change in ink color when it comes to your name, an indication of the writing becoming lighter. (A pause in thought? Whenever you asked him, he would scratch the back of his head and shrug his shoulders.) Others, it’s the way entire lines are crossed out because he kept misspelling the same word multiple times.

Very Atsumu-ish, you muse with a silent chuckle. 

Atsumu-ish. Because the words erratic and unorthodox and lively and everything in-between just aren’t enough to describe his entire being, so Atsumu-ish became the one true representative of whatever he had up his sleeve.

(It started as a joke between you and Osamu wanting to tease Atsumu when he was being outlandish, but then it spread to the rest of the circle and was kept as Official Inarizaki Alumni Vocabulary when Kita mumbled “Atsumu-ish” without a hint of jest in his voice, completely serious about its usage.

“Atsumu-ish,” he pondered loud enough so that the rest of the guys could hear him. “I’ve never thought about it like that, but I guess you’re right.”

And it stuck with everyone else, causing Atsumu to sulk about it for five whole minutes as he whined and groaned about “Osamu-ish” and “Suna-ish” not being a thing to which Kita gave a straight answer: they’re not you. His truthfulness made Atsumu slump in his seat until you squeezed his hand from under the table and whispered that his name just rang in a special way.

He liked the sound of that and straightened his back when you teased him about it again.)

Atsumu-ish, Atsumu-ish, Atsumu-ish.

At this point, you had repeated it in your mind so many times that it started to sound a bit weird. His name echoes once more, making you pause as you stare at the old take-out menus. It did start to sound a bit strange now, but you most certainly aren’t sick of it.

(You don’t think his name would ever tire you out. Decades, centuries, millenniums, and through whatever multitude of lifetimes the universe has to offer, you think that you’ll always hold the way his name sounds close for comfort, like a seashell pressed against your ear.)

When you read through his words, you can tell he put a lot of time into writing what really matters to him. He’s always been one to say the first thing that pops in his mind (brash and honest to a fault), but seeing that struggle for the right string of words, for the right day, and for the right moment in time just reminds you that he’s always been the kind of person who says the things he does because he cares. 

His words are a little blunt, almost unrefined, but it’s so easy to see how he wanted his vows to be perfect. Perfect in the Miya Atsumu kind of way. 

And only Miya Atsumu would write his vows on the take-out menu of his brother’s restaurant.

Atsumu-ish, you think again with a chuckle as you admire the two take-out menus—from the same place, a coincidence that makes you laugh at the thought of his brother dealing with you two separately. Both are a little bit worn, but the words are easy to read. 

Easy to love.

Much like himself.

[dailytomlinson]

At the start of 2020, Louis Tomlinson had just kick started his solo career off proper – his debut album ‘Walls’ was released in January and he performed two dates of his world tour before the COVID-19 pandemic hit and every other date was either postponed until next year or cancelled. Fans of the former One Direction star were gutted (of course) but their happiness has been restored as Louis played his first virtual gig last night.

You might expect that a virtual concert consists of just a singer and their band sat in an empty venue, right? With no lights or affects, and in a way it looks ‘boring’? Well this was the complete opposite! The classic Louis red lighting and the strobe lighting almost made you believe that you were actually there in real life!

Louis walked out on stage with his new haircut – it’s a lot longer than what fans were used to seeing. Has he been spending too much time with Harry Styles, who knows? He kept things casual in a laidback £22 Reebok t shirt which is now sold out in every single size due to Tomlinson’s influence.

He then kicked the concert off (15 minutes late may I add – fans are convinced that he wanted to watch the football) with ‘Just Hold On’. This is a song he originally produced with Steve Aoki and is more of a dance record, a bit different to the indie sound he is now leaning towards. But, he adapted the four-year-old record to his new style and it was a great surprise for fans – especially to kick off the livestream.

He then continued to sing ‘We Made It’ and ‘Don’t Let It Break Your Heart’ – two new songs from his album ‘Walls’. He then followed these tracks into a classic One Direction song ‘Drag Me Down’. Fans from all around the world went crazy about this – nothing beats a One Direction member singing a One Direction song in their solo career (well maybe a reunion would beat this).

Later on in the show, he sent fans into a frenzy when he performed two more hits from his boyband days – ‘Through The Dark’ (arguably an extremely understated song) and ‘Little Black Dress’ – a song that Tomlinson has expressed is one of his favourites and as he has previously said: “And remember if it’s by One Direction and it’s a banger I probably wrote it”.

But of course, he did sing his solo songs. Hits such as ‘Habit’ echoed through the screen of thousands of fan’s laptops, phones and TV screens and you can almost guarantee that they were all screaming along to the iconic lyric “Come so far from princess park.” Louis also poured his heart out in the song ‘Two of Us’ – a song dedicated to his late mother Johannah.

He also performed a brand new song which shocked fans when he released the setlist earlier that day. In ‘Copy of a Copy of a Copy’ Louis sings “You won’t be the first or be the last to bleed, every broken heart as far as I can see is a copy of a copy of a copy” and fans are already demanding it is released as soon as possible. He also sang a cover of ‘Beautiful War’ by Kings of Leon and fans are hoping that it will be available to stream soon.

Fans are going crazy for the new song, Twitter user @Jailboyhamirah said: “Cause of death: Louis Tomlinson singing copy of a copy of a copy.” which just shows the light hearted banter the fandom has and it also shows how excited they truly are.

The rest of the songs performed were just as great as the others, you could hear the excitement and happiness in this voice as you could tell he was just so happy about being back on stage. You could just tell he was in his happy place doing what he does best.

In the final song ‘Kill My Mind’, the screen behind Louis showed some lucky fans singing and dancing along behind him. This was a great idea – it gave fans a chance to perform with their idol and it made it feel even more like an actual concert. It was also a great ending to the livestream and made saying goodbye a little bit easier.

We also need to thank his musicians – if it wasn’t for them the concert wouldn’t have been as good as it was and they were all so incredible. His band is made up of Michael Blackwell on the guitar, Steve Durham on the drums, Matt Dinnadge on bass, Isaac Anderson also on guitar whilst the keys are played by Zac Craner. We also need a moment of appreciation for the brilliant string players that accompanied some songs and of course, the brilliant crew that made all of this possible for us fans.

Like always, Tomlinson’s fans don’t do anything by halves. ‘LOUIS TOMLINSON’, ‘THANK YOU LOUIS’, ‘LITTLE BLACK DRESS’ and #LTLivestream was trending worldwide and when tickets were released, the site crashed almost immediately. This is also the biggest show that Veeps have ever streamed before.

The virtual concert has also raised funds for the touring industry along with four other charities that are close to Louis’ heart – FareShare, Crew Nation, Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and Stagehand.

Louis shared a message on the screen after the concert that said: “Thank you to every single person who helped make this livestream possible.

“Without my band, my crew and team, live shows just wouldn’t happen.

“The money raised so far from this show will help some important causes, so a big thank you to everyone for tuning in.

“I can’t wait to see you all on tour soon!

“Stay safe, Louis x”

This concert allowed fans to see Louis performing – he was in his happy place and he was able to give fans a taste of what his future concerts will be like, all being well. It also gave a chance for fans to connect and watch a concert all together – no matter what corner of the world you’re from.

[hlupdate]

At the start of 2020, Louis Tomlinsonhad just kick started his solo career off proper – his debut album ‘Walls’ was released in January and he performed two dates of his world tour before the COVID-19 pandemic hit and every other date was either postponed until next year or cancelled. Fans of the former One Direction star were gutted (of course) but their happiness has been restored as Louis played his first virtual gig last night.

You might expect that a virtual concert consists of just a singer and their band sat in an empty venue, right? With no lights or affects, and in a way it looks ‘boring’? Well this was the complete opposite! The classic Louis red lighting and the strobe lighting almost made you believe that you were actually there in real life!

Louis walked out on stage with his new haircut – it’s a lot longer than what fans were used to seeing. Has he been spending too much time with Harry Styles, who knows? He kept things casual in a laidback £22 Reebok t shirt which is now sold out in every single size due to Tomlinson’s influence.

He then kicked the concert off (15 minutes late may I add – fans are convinced that he wanted to watch the football) with ‘Just Hold On’. This is a song he originally produced with Steve Aoki and is more of a dance record, a bit different to the indie sound he is now leaning towards. But, he adapted the four-year-old record to his new style and it was a great surprise for fans – especially to kick off the livestream.

He then continued to sing ‘We Made It’ and ‘Don’t Let It Break Your Heart’ – two new songs from his album ‘Walls’. He then followed these tracks into a classic One Direction song ‘Drag Me Down’. Fans from all around the world went crazy about this – nothing beats a One Direction member singing a One Direction song in their solo career (well maybe a reunion would beat this).

Later on in the show, he sent fans into a frenzy when he performed two more hits from his boyband days – ‘Through The Dark’ (arguably an extremely understated song) and ‘Little Black Dress’ – a song that Tomlinson has expressed is one of his favourites and as he has previously said: “And remember if it’s by One Direction and it’s a banger I probably wrote it”.

But of course, he did sing his solo songs. Hits such as ‘Habit’ echoed through the screen of thousands of fan’s laptops, phones and TV screens and you can almost guarantee that they were all screaming along to the iconic lyric “Come so far from princess park.” Louis also poured his heart out in the song ‘Two of Us’ – a song dedicated to his late mother Johannah.

He also performed a brand new song which shocked fans when he released the setlist earlier that day. In ‘Copy of a Copy of a Copy’ Louis sings “You won’t be the first or be the last to bleed, every broken heart as far as I can see is a copy of a copy of a copy” and fans are already demanding it is released as soon as possible. He also sang a cover of ‘Beautiful War’ by Kings of Leon and fans are hoping that it will be available to stream soon.

Fans are going crazy for the new song, Twitter user @Jailboyhamirah said: “Cause of death: Louis Tomlinson singing copy of a copy of a copy.” which just shows the light hearted banter the fandom has and it also shows how excited they truly are.

The rest of the songs performed were just as great as the others, you could hear the excitement and happiness in this voice as you could tell he was just so happy about being back on stage. You could just tell he was in his happy place doing what he does best.

In the final song ‘Kill My Mind’, the screen behind Louis showed some lucky fans singing and dancing along behind him. This was a great idea – it gave fans a chance to perform with their idol and it made it feel even more like an actual concert. It was also a great ending to the livestream and made saying goodbye a little bit easier.

We also need to thank his musicians – if it wasn’t for them the concert wouldn’t have been as good as it was and they were all so incredible. His band is made up of Michael Blackwell on the guitar, Steve Durham on the drums, Matt Dinnadge on bass, Isaac Anderson also on guitar whilst the keys are played by Zac Craner. We also need a moment of appreciation for the brilliant string players that accompanied some songs and of course, the brilliant crew that made all of this possible for us fans.

Like always, Tomlinson’s fans don’t do anything by halves. ‘LOUIS TOMLINSON’, ‘THANK YOU LOUIS’, ‘LITTLE BLACK DRESS’ and #LTLivestream was trending worldwide and when tickets were released, the site crashed almost immediately. This is also the biggest show that Veeps have ever streamed before.

The virtual concert has also raised funds for the touring industry along with four other charities that are close to Louis’ heart – FareShare, Crew Nation, Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice and Stagehand.

Louis shared a message on the screen after the concert that said: “Thank you to every single person who helped make this livestream possible.

“Without my band, my crew and team, live shows just wouldn’t happen.

“The money raised so far from this show will help some important causes, so a big thank you to everyone for tuning in.

“I can’t wait to see you all on tour soon!

“Stay safe, Louis x”

This concert allowed fans to see Louis performing – he was in his happy place and he was able to give fans a taste of what his future concerts will be like, all being well. It also gave a chance for fans to connect and watch a concert all together – no matter what corner of the world you’re from.

[someillplanetreigns]

Shadow Play

Summary: Whilst a fake was sent to the Collector, Loki kept the real Aether on Asgard. This does not change the Asgardians' encounter with Thanos and the Black Order - except in the ways that it does. AU of the start of Avengers: Infinity War from the mid-credits scene of Thor: Ragnarok

Rating: T

Pairings: Loki & Thor

Tags and warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Fix-It; Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies; Canon-Typical Violence; Blood and Violence; References to past trauma; Referenced suicide attempts (canonical)

You can also read on Ao3 here!

Thor’s muscles are locked, unable to look away as the Titan drops Loki’s limp body to the ground.

“No resurrections this time.”

The Titan raises his hand and the remnants of the ship – littered with the bodies of his people, with those he’d sworn to protect with his life – are hit with the force of the Power Stone. With a wave of blue Tesseract light, the Titan and his Order are gone as the ship fractures, splits apart. The monstrous vessel jumps away from them as the Statesman finally disintegrates.

And then disappears.

On the real Statesman, Loki sags beside him, catching the table to support himself.

“Don’t,” Loki says before Thor can do or say anything. “You should tell your people we’re safe.” He swallows, heaves a breath, manages to continue: “For the moment. We need to get to Earth. Establish New Asgard, make sure they’re safe. And be ready for the war that’s coming.”

“Loki –”

“Later.” Loki finally looks at him. “You can say it all later. Just – go and be King now.”

Thor puts his hand on Loki’s slumped shoulder. He doesn’t know what to say.

“You’ll be here? When I’ve spoken to them?”

Loki’s eyes close, and it almost feels like he leans away from Thor.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be here.”

 The enormous ship loomed before them. Thor thought he heard Loki swallow. He grasped at words.

Loki spoke first. A soft, rasping voice: “Tell them to cut the engines.”

“What?”

“Tell them to cut the engines,” he repeated, finally tearing his eyes from the hideous vessel to look at him. His eyes were wild, and he’d paled to an almost sickly degree. “Thor, I don’t have time to explain. You have to trust me. Please. Make them cut the engines.”

There was an aching chasm between them still, but Thor saw his brother; it was a rare moment where, silently, Loki was reaching across that chasm to him. Thor seized the comm and gave the order.

The former gladiator’s confusion crackled over the line. “What do you –”

“I said. Cut. The. Engines. Now,” he repeated tersely, eyes fixed on Loki.

Loki was facing the ship through the glass. As the Statesman went silent, his eyes closed and he drew a breath. And then from all around him there was a glow. Not the usual glow of Loki’s seidr, not the familiar green, but...

“Loki, no!”

“Ssh!” Loki hissed back, eyes snapping open. His eyes were black, consumed by the Aether. The aura around him glowed that horribly familiar dark red, the glow that ought not to have been a glow at all it was so much a thing of darkness.

For a wild, awful moment, Thor thought Loki was about to vanish, or to hand them all over, to betray them all, to betray him.

The leviathan that loomed over them blasted a beam. It hit... It hit a spot ahead of them, where they would have been had the engines not been turned off. Yet there was a ship within that beam – a ship that looked exactly like the Statesman.

“What’s going on?” It was the Valkyrie. He hadn’t even realised she’d come in, he had been so fixed on Loki.

He shook his head, helpless, indicated Loki and what could be seen through the window.

The Valkyrie swore.

“I need to see what they’re doing,” Loki said suddenly. The pitch of his voice was off, and it was gravelly, as though it pained him to talk. “You may not want to watch this part.”

With a twist of his fingers through the swirling dark aura, the window transformed, and they were seeing the inside of the Statesman. Soldiers like none he’d ever seen ripped into the ship. He watched himself – a copy of himself – blast them with lightning, and saw himself knocked aside by a blast of purple light.

Loki cursed. “He has the Power Stone.”

His fingers played through the Aether again, moving the copies of their crew like puppets. He was putting up a good fight. They were being cut down nonetheless.

Thor tore his eyes away to look at the Valkyrie. Her hand was resting on the hilt of her sword.

“Keep the people calm,” he ordered.

“Heimdall’s ahead of you. He’s gathered them in the bay in case we need to evacuate.”

“Good. Keep them ready to move. For now...”

Valkyrie nodded in Loki’s direction. “For now, he’s handling it?”

“Tell them.” As he spoke, a spray of blood hit the illusory Statesman’s floor. “Spare them the details.”

She nodded, glanced at Loki once more, and ran back to join the gathered refugees.  

What Loki played out on that copy of the Statesman wrought by the Reality Stone... Thor never could have imagined anything like it. And it was so lifelike...

Sparks crackled around his knuckles, and he had to breathe deeply through his nose to suppress the roiling storm that what he was seeing raised in the pit of his stomach.

He watched the copy of himself say, “You really are the worst, brother.” And those became the last words he said to Loki...

Thor burnt the suppressed bolt of lightning into his palm.

 He hadn’t been sure Loki would still be there, despite what he’d said. He feels guilty for that when he sees Loki there, folded into one of the ostentatious chairs with a tumbler of the spirit they’d found on the ship.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Loki says, waving the glass in the air. His tone implies he doesn’t truly care whether Thor minds or not; he is so wry, so nonchalant...

Thor has a thousand other, more pressing questions to ask, but the one that bubbles up in that moment, almost to the point of him voicing it, is when exactly that prickly armour of disdain had appeared. He’d never been like that as a child. What was it Thor had missed?

A great deal, most likely.

“Well?” Loki says over the rim of the tumbler. “Aren’t you going to let me have it?”

“Are you alright?”

Loki gives him a bemused look. “Well the vintage leaves something to be desired, but...”

“I mean the Aether, Loki.”

“The one I had your dear companions take to Knowhere was a fake, obviously.”

“It could have consumed you. Are you hurt?”

Loki lowers the glass. At length he says, “No, I’m not hurt. I spent the time you were gone learning how I could harness it. I’d been anticipating a... confrontation with Thanos for some time. I worked out how to channel the Aether through my own seidr. I can safely contain it in a pocket dimension and pop it out when needs must.”

“Who is this Thanos?”

“You heard the one called Ebony Maw’s little spiel.” Loki’s stillness, his movements, his words, his silences... everything about him has the quality of a knife’s edge.

“He was the one who sent you to attack Earth?”

Loki makes a vague gesture with the tumbler. “Something like that.”

“Were you one of the... what did he call them? The Children of Thanos?”

“What do you think?”

He may as well still be consumed by the Aether he is so darkly unreadable.

Thor lowers himself into the other chair. “I think they sound like a cult. That’s not like you.”

Loki makes a bitter sound in the back of his throat and drains the glass. He pours himself another and slides the bottle across the table to Thor.

“Too much a megalomaniac to serve, eh,” Loki says to his drink.

“Loki, what did –”

“Can we just skip to the part where you berate me for endangering everyone with my reckless power lust by retaining two Infinity Stones on my person?”

“I – berate you?”

“Surely you’re itching to.”

“No!”

Loki raises a mocking brow. “Oh, come on. It was reckless, selfish, a damning and yet utterly typical indication of my lack of care for anyone but myself and my continuing, indeed truly ingrained criminality.”

“No one else was thinking about the risks with the Infinity Stones. What would have happened, if the Tesseract had been left on Asgard when it was destroyed?”

Loki sighs. He speaks almost reluctantly. “There’s no knowing for certain. My supposition is that it would have opened a wormhole so big it would have swallowed all nine realms.”

“And that fake Aether on Knowhere, that will buy us some time?”

“Some. It was... a challenge to forge convincingly. It should generate illusions but not do anything tangible. That seemed... safest.”

“And you gave him a fake Tesseract too?”

“A considerably inferior fake. I used the real Tesseract for their grand finale, but he’ll realise very soon that it’s not doing what he wants it to. So we need to get away.”

“We should be prepared to face him again?”

“We need to get to Earth. There are two more Infinity Stones there. We can set your people up as safely as possible, and then... well, what you’ve been preparing for all your life.”

“A war, you mean?”

“Yes. Finally your chance to wipe out monsters.”

Thor lays a hand on his shoulder. Loki tenses.

“Loki...” Thor hunts for words. “Asgard is your people too. It’s because of you that that,” he gestures to the window, “didn’t really happen to us.”

“It’s also because of me that it nearly did.”

“But you prevented it.”

“Self-preservation.”

It takes Thor a moment to push the words out. Finally, he says, “And will you continue to... self-preserve?”

Loki barks a dry laugh. “Are you asking for advanced warning of my betraying you?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“On the Bifrost, and on Svartalfheim...”

Loki puts his tumbler down very slowly and carefully. “What are you implying?”

“I don’t want to lose you, Loki.”

He makes a derisive noise in the back of his throat. “You have a very strange way of demonstrating such.”

“I know I’ve... I’m sorry.”

Loki determinedly does not look at him.

“Selfishly, I want you fighting at my side in... whatever we’re going into. But if this Thanos has some sort of vendetta against you...”

“There’s nowhere I can hide.”

At length, he meets Thor’s eye. And it is then that Thor knows. Had they really faced Thanos, Loki would have subjected himself to the same fate as his simulation: his life for as many who could be spared as possible.

“We’ll fight together, then.”

“Your Avengers will clap me in irons on sight.”

“They can try,” Thor says.

Loki rolls his eyes. “And you’re going to oppose them, are you? In a time when you need their full support? You saw what we’d be up against.”

“It won’t be me alone. All of Asgard will stand with you.”

The look Loki gives him is painful: like he is searching for deception in what Thor said. But at last he purses his lips and gripes, “Mad, the lot of you.”

But he doesn’t argue.

[scribbles97]

Crushed

A scene from Left Behind that just wouldn't leave me alone but I also never got around to linking up with the rest of the fic.

@gumnut-logic thank you for giving me ideas for Gordon's accident!

@lenna-z and @janetm74 thank you both for all the love and comments on Left Behind... I'm sorry that it got the better of me.

It should have been routine. Just a recovery mission, he had told her with that sunshine grin as he had headed for his chute. Lucy hadn’t needed to monitor him, there wouldn’t be any more to tell until he got back with whatever it was they were meant to find there.

She had always disliked not watching her boys when they were out on missions, but trusted them enough to know better than to hover.

None of them had expected the emergency code. The tone all of them knew and dreaded filling the whole villa.

There was only one son missing from the lounge, John’s eyes wide and lips pressed thin as he looked straight to her from Thunderbird Five.

“Gordon, you’ve activated your emergency code.”

She found herself holding her breath as they waited for some form of response, anything to tell them what they needed to know.

Nothing came.

“Gordon?” John pressed, eyes breaking away to focus on something outside of the scope of the hologram, “Gordon, do you copy? Gordon!”

It was the fear she didn’t doubt all of them were feeling, no more words spoken as they turned as one towards Thunderbird Two. For once she didn’t even hesitate about Alan’s presence, she needed them all where she could see them.

“It’s Gaat.” Kayo confirmed once Thunderbird Two was in the air, “I’m in pursuit of the Chaos Crew now, GDF are assisting.”

Something in Lucy had broken at the revelation. Gordon had been looking for answers for her, had been put in danger by a man with a grudge against her, yet she had done nothing. She hadn’t even been watching.

Their eyes were all on her, waiting for some form of confirmation, some acknowledgement of what was happening. She was their mother, but also their leader.

It was time for her to lead.

“Kayo be careful, if he’s done this to Thunderbird Four we don’t know what else he might do.”

“F.A.B.”

“John,” She swallowed, turning her attention to the rescue at hand, trying as hard as she could to brush away the thought of just who it was they were rescuing, “I need the closest team possible to--”

“Cen Am team have two subs en-route, they were in the area on drills, eta fifteen minutes.” He hesitated, glancing away and then back again, “Lady Penelope will be joining to assist.”

It was all the team she could ask for.

“F.A.B. thank you John.”

He nodded but didn’t close the line, still hovering in the corner of her vision as she looked to the live feed of vials displayed for them all.

“What do we do, Mom?”

Alan’s voice was every bit the small child she still believed he was, even if she knew he was there to help.

She just had to show him how.

“We rig two sub pods, they’ll be able to manage at that depth for the time we need. External cameras on Four are compromised so we don’t know what we’re going in to. Once we have an exact picture, we’ll make a plan.”

“Who--”

“Go and rig the pods, Alan.” Scott cut him off, “We’ll meet you down there.”

It was the first thing her eldest had said since the emergency code had come in. When she turned in her seat, his eyes were fixed firmly on her, hard and determined just like she knew his father would have been in that exact moment.

“I’ll go down with Alan.”

Anger flared in her chest. Gordon was her son, she had already done too little to help and--

“Mom, you’re compromised.” Scott continued, voice softening, “We don’t know what we’re going to find--”

“And you think it’s okay to send his kid brother down there instead?” She snapped back, “No Scott I won’t--”

“Alan pulled John from space.” He cut her off, “You’re blaming yourself for what’s happened. I trust your judgement Mom, but I don’t think it’s the best thing for you to go down there.”

She wanted to protest more, she needed to do something other than just sit there and watch. Except, she knew Scott was right, knew that at any point something could well tip her over the edge and break the camel's back.

A heavy, solid hand on her shoulder made her look across to Virgil. The slightest of nods from him confirming a quiet agreement to Scott’s reasoning.

She trusted her boys to look after one another, knew that Scott would do everything she would. He hadn’t been the one to send his kid brother out there that day, he held no guilt over the situation.

But still she couldn’t simply sit by and wait.

“I’ll prep the med bay, meet you in the module with a stretcher.” She murmured, glancing back to the weakening life sign.

“Okay.” Scott nodded, smiling softly as he reached out to her other shoulder, “We’ll get him back, Mom. I swear it.”

She straightened, eyes fixing on the stats as they dropped again. It wasn’t getting him to the surface that she was worried about.

“Virgil you’ll be needed to see to him.” There was only one fully trained medic among them, and for that she would forever be grateful, “Once Scott and Alan are up you should transfer control to them and see what’s needed for treatment.”

“F.A.B.” He agreed quietly, “We’re coming up on the drop zone.”

She nodded, unbuckling from her seat, “Let’s get our fish back on dry land.”

***

It was torture to stand in the module and simply listen. Alan’s exclamation had given her visions of all the worst situations, only backed up by Scott’s murmur of things being worse than he thought.

She wasn’t sure if the images John had relayed to her from the pod's external cameras were what she had expected or not. The area was known for its hydrothermal activity, but to see one of the stacks of rock pinning Thunderbird Four upside down, the machine crippled under the weight, made her heart twist painfully.

Scott had taken full direction of the underwater rescue, the two stronger subs lifting the chimney whilst Penelope pulled Gordon from the wreck.

Her soft gasp spoke volumes. Part of Lucy wanting to smile at the thought of just how well the pair suited each other, even if they had been skirting around the fact forever. There was fear there too though and it echoed through Lucy’s entire being.

“Get him up to the med bay.” Scott was instructing, “We’ll recover Thunderbird Four and meet you up there.”

A murmur of agreements and before she knew, Lucy was stepping to one side to allow FAB One to pull into the module.

It was hard to not look too eager as she pulled the rear door open, only to stifle a sob at the sight before her. Gordon draped across the back seat, face bloodied and bruised, everything about him just not quite right.

Penelope’s eyes were just as fearful as Lucy had expected as she looked to her, “He hasn’t stirred.”

It wasn’t a reassurance.

“Let’s move him, get him to a hospital.”

The island infirmary wouldn’t be enough for him.

“His helmet was leaking air,” Penelope explained as they moved as one to get him onto the hover stretcher, “I had to take it off, he was almost out.”

Over the years Lucy had heard enough people giving needless explanations to know what it really was.

“You did the right thing.” She assured, “You got him out of there Penny, thank you.”

The younger woman’s smile was tight as the module clunked into its position within Thunderbird Two.

“Shall I send Virgil?” She offered, hovering at a distance as the hover stretcher maneuvered itself into position in its dock.

Lucy nodded, too focussed on setting up the med scan, he needed a line placing, an oxygen mask. Finally she could at least do something.

His baldrick was first to go, cut away and discarded on the opposite side of the room. She didn’t like the unnatural set of his shoulder or his wrist. She didn’t like all the ambers and reds flashing up in front of her. She didn’t like that he hadn’t moved in the slightest.

“Mom,” John appeared above the stretcher, “Eos is going to remote pilot Two to the nearest hospital, Scott and Alan are going to get a lift with Cen Am once they’ve recovered Four.”

She paused as she taped the line in place in the back of Gordon’s hand, “They’re not--”

“They know he’s in good hands,” John smiled softly, “and that time is precious.”

Swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat, Lucy nodded, “F.A.B.”

It was the sharp movement of his chest that caught her attention, the way it moved deeper for a single breath and held there for a long moment before releasing again with a soft cry.

“Gordy?” She murmured, moving to his head, “Are you with us?”

“Momma?” It was barely a whisper through the mask as cloudy amber eyes blinked up at her, “Mm, it hur’s. Really hur’s momma.”

All of the boys had always loved her stroking their hair, and all of her wished she could at that moment. But there was so much blood, a warning still fresh in her mind of a head injury. She didn’t dare touch anywhere that wasn’t okay.

“I’m here baby,” She soothed, reaching out to the hand she had just placed the cannula in, “I know it hurts, Virgil will be here soon to make it better. ‘Kay? Think you can stay awake for that?”

“Mom, it hurts.” He repeated, eyes so distant she knew he wasn’t seeing the scene in front of him, “‘m scared.”

“You’re safe Gordy.” She soothed softly, blinking away the tears that stung her eyes, “We’re all here for you and we’re gonna make it better.”

His eyes focused, amber that matched her own reflecting back at her in a moment of clarity.

“Mom?”

“Right here Kiddo.” She whispered, braving her own fear to reach out and touch his cheek, “You with me?”

Fingers tightened weakly around hers, holding on with everything he had.

“It’s okay.” She whispered, trying to sound more sure than she felt, “It’s all going to be fine Gordy.”

His eyes were still clear as he watched her, clouded with fear and pain. There wasn’t the spark there should have been, no smile as there had been earlier in the day.

“Mom, I can’t feel my legs.”

[multi-fandom-inserts]

The Next Day

Seeley Booth x Reader

Warnings; None (Hungover?)

Masterlist

_______________________________________________________________

“Oh, what the...” you groan like a dying walrus.

Your voice was horsey and tight, you attempted to open your eyes but were greeted by the blinding light of the morning sun bursting through the window, to match the burning, dry eyes your vision was blurred as your head hammered dangerously – like Irish dancers wearing steel shoes jigging on your brain – whilst your stomach lunged in strong waves of sickness.

Yesterday was the Jeffersonian's annual Christmas party, which equalled lots and lots of booze and resulting in the paralysing hangover you were now experiencing, your only saving grace was Dr Brennan had given the entire team the next day off, except of course if there was an emergency or a murder – which ever came first.

Rolling over in a desperate attempt to get comfortable and sooth your pounding head, when suddenly a wave of sickness so violent you leaped out of bed and sprinted to your ensuite bathroom, collapsing to your knees and hugging the toilet bowl as you throw up violently.

After a few minutes, and lots of praying to a god you don't believe in, you pushed yourself off the toilet to sit on the cold, tiled floor beside it, pushing your legs out in front of you, your bare feet touching the side of the bathtub in front of you, “I'm never drinking again.” you mumble, closing your eyes in an attempt to make the room stop spinning.

“Y/N?” a sudden rough, masculine voice, echoed through the bathroom making you jump and scream. The sudden movement caused you to lunge for the toilet again. The shower curtain that enclosed the bath was pulled back harshly revealing a very ill looking Agent Seeley Booth laying in your bath, from your spot beside the toilet it was obviously he wasn't wearing a shirt, his eyes were sunken in and dark as his complexion is pale from sickness.

“Are you wearing any clothes?” you ask, moving yourself back to your original seat.

Booth looked down for a moment, “Just boxers.”

Your eyes widen, “Do you remember what happened to the rest of your clothes?”

He looked at you for a moment before mirroring your stance, and sat sideways – rather uncomfortably – in the long bath to face you, his eyes scanned your appearance for a moment, taking in how your hair was scrapped back from your face with a few strands falling to frame your features, making smeared under your eyes; your legs bare only wearing socks as his white shirt clung loosely to your body.

Booth weakly pointed at you, “You're wearing my shirt.”

Looking down you let out a small scoff of disbelief as you see his large shirt on your body, only three of the five buttons done up, automatically you pull the shirt down to try and cover your bare legs but it was no use, “What happened last night? Why are you in my bathroom? And why am I wearing your shirt?” you ask, panic taking over you as your mind begins to race a million miles an hour trying to pull any memories of last night – you remember Dr Brennan and Cam giving you all a lecture on being well-behaved, then  Hodgins brought out a beaker of pure alcohol and then...darkness.

Just as your about to have a full on panic attack followed by another session of throwing up, Booths phone rings from inside the empty bathtub, causing both yourself and Booth to wince at the loud ring, he groaned as he moved to collect it before holding it to his ear.

“Booth.” he groaned, from the other end of the phone plus from the look on Booth's face, Cam was incredible unhappy. His face falls as the conversation grows on and begins to look sicker and sicker before eventually he dropped the phone back in his lap before holding his head in his hands.

“Cam and Bones want us all back at the Jeffersonian, right now.” he says, his voice had hardened as he looks at you, a small glimmer of worry in his eyes,

Peeling yourself off the bathroom floor, you avert your eyes not to stare at the half-naked FBI Agent laying in your bathtub, “I may have some clothes for you, call a cab and I'll go get ready.” you tell him, stumbling back into your bedroom, your mind racing about what happened between you and Booth last night,

_______________________________________________________________

The Jeffersonian was eerily quite, a few interns pondered about the laboratory surroundings looking at case evidence, ensuring that everything from the last case – solved yesterday before the Christmas Party – was in the correct file and labelled correctly. However, the lack of rush caused by Agent Booth and yourselves presence and the zero personal on the platform in the centre of the lab, you assumed it wasn't a murder case that bought you into work; which simply made your stomach clench with sickness.

Cam stood – cross armed, stern faced in anger – just outside of Angela's office, she doesn't utter a word to the pair of you, simply points towards the door and ushers you in before closing the glass doors behind her. Round the corner you see the rest of the team; Sweets and Hodgins sat on the small sofa whilst Angela laid across their laps – her head in Hodgins lap and feet on Sweets – Daisy sat on the arm of the chair beside Sweets, Wendell sat on the floor central to the sofa. Fisher was sat on the only chair available, his legs spread out as far as they'll go in front of him as he cradled his head in his hand.

Everyone looked terrible, pale faced, either barely dressed or in random items of clothing, hair undone and in Angela and yourselves case; reminisce of make up remained on your skin. Seeley motioned silently for Fisher to take a seat on the floor as he stole the chair whilst you took a seat next to Wendell on the floor, immediately resting your head on his shoulder.

“Did everyone have a good night?” Dr Brennan, who looked even more angry than Cam, asked sarcastically.

Hodgins smirked, while playing with Angie's hair, “From what I can remember, it was pretty good.” he says, causing everyone to smile.

You faked a gag at the sexual implicant between Hodgins and Angie but were too confident in your body's ability to be funny and gagged for real, Wendell passed you the small bin and rubbed your back tenderly, from the corner of your eye you see Booth watching the pair of you intently.

Dr Brennan – who didn't show any compassion for her hungover team – snatched Angela's control pad to bring up a series of photo images, almost in unison everyone suffering from sickness stiffened and became alert. Your stomach dropped to your ass as your skin covers in goosebumps.

The clicking noise pulled everyone's attention from each other to the screen, the first picture shows up on the screen – in the image is Wendell, Fisher, Daisy and yourself. The boys were on all fours whilst Daisy sat on Fisher and you sat on Wendell,

“What are you doing” Cam asked, even more confused by the picture.

Wendell smile fondly at the picture, you all are smiling, the rest of the crew around you cheering you all on, “We're having a horse race, losers have to take a shot.” he explained, raising his hand to show the table at the end of the finish line lined with shots of various colours. You sink with embarrassment but you can't help but smile at the image.

The next few photos don't include you front and centre, thankfully, however it was funny to see the images from the night you all had seemed to forget. Daisy and Sweets kissing under the mistletoe, Hodgins and Wendell taking shots, Angela photocopying her boobs on the coper whilst you laughed at the side holding up a copy in front of  your own chest.

Looking back at Angela who is red with embarrassment caused you to laugh hard as everyone else tries to stifle their laughs as the pictures continued to play; pictures of Wendell and yourself messing about on the platform, everyone trying to do experiments in Hodgins lab room – mainly huffing on laughing gas.

The next image to show on the monitor cause everyone to turn mute, it was a small video clear as day taken through the crowd but focused on Seeley and yourself, kissing heavily under the mistletoe on the platform. All eyes turned from yourself to Seeley and back to yourself.

“Wow.” says Hodgins cutting through the silence.

The memory flies back at you with such speed and panic you get up like a rocket and leave the room, heading towards the locker room, panic flooded your body. How did that happen? Is that why Seeley was half naked in your apartment? Your thoughts ran through your head causing it to spin.

Seeley was quick to follow you, after you'd left the room everyone just stared at him. Cam, Hodgins, Wendell and Sweets looking so shocked their eyes might pop out like a cartoon, Bones had an expressionless face whilst Angela looked at him with a knowingly smirk. He knew you'd head towards the locker room, it was your safe space inside the building. You were pacing wildly when he entered the cool room, he watches for a few seconds before his voice cut through the silence.

“Y/N,” his voice was like velvet, gentle and soft even with the strain of the shouting from last night, you turned to look at him, staring into his welcoming eyes as he steps forwards towards you, feeling his minty breath fanning across your face, his hand creeps up to your cheek, grazing his thumb across your skin gently before he crashes his lips onto yours.

A small noise of surprise escapes you before you melt into the kiss, the lingering taste of alcohol still on his tongue, your hand resting on Seeley's chest as he hugs you into him. He fought for dominance and you didn't put up much of a fight before eventually you parted.

“Wha...?” you asked, slightly dazed.

“I'm sorry.” the FBI Agent blurted out.

Oh, you thought, your heart sunk as you nodded, “It's okay, we're probably still drunk so lets forget about the kisses –”

“No!” Seeley cut you off, he stepped closer to you again, “I like you, and I wanted to kiss you sober so you knew I was telling the truth.”

Your eyes widened as relief flushed through you, “I like you too Seeley.” you whispered.

His face cracks into a large, “I just wish it didn't take a drunken night under the mistletoe to make us say it.” he mums.

“Well Christmas is only a week away, maybe we can do it properly then?” you ask, teasingly.

Seeley laughs, “Sounds like a plan to me. In the meantime, want to go get something to eat?”

Pursing your lips, “Deal, but it's on you.” you say laughing and heading towards the door.

Seeley fakes a disbelief, “What, why?”

Shrugging, “I let you sleep in my bathtub last night,” you winked and left the room.

The once emotionless FBI Agent smiled, she's going to be a handful, he thought with a laugh before following you out into the cold air, snow settled on the ground crunching beneath your feet. As you walked to the small restaurant, neither of you noticed Dr Brennan watching you intently, a knowing smile settled on her lips.

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 30 - Epilogue

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Notes: This is the last chapter... it’s over uwagh T_T

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell​ - here is the latest update

Epilogue

…

…

[“There is no God, no universe, no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. It is all a dream – a grotesque and foolish dream. Nothing exists but you. And you are but a thought – a vagrant thought, a useless thought, a homeless thought, wandering forlorn among the empty eternities!"

- The Mysterious Stranger, Mark Twain]

...

...

The doorbell rings and Jace opens the door to see his best friend standing on his doorstep.

“Chuck!” he exclaims happily. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come visit."

They share a hug and he invites her in for tea. He’s in the middle of packing so there are plenty of suitcases and clothes lying about though his pokemon seem more interested in playing around with the mess than assisting.

And the weather’s good so he opens the door to his veranda and props two chairs outside where they can enjoy their tea and some fresh air. It grants them an exquisite view of the river and the promenade and together, they sit and chat about old times and Jace’s new job.

“Jace,” she says, before she departs. “Thank you for everything. You were always there to listen and support me. Thank you for being my best friend.”

He pats her on the head, ruffling her hair. “Awwww…thanks, chuck; you’re my best friend too. You’re the bestest friend one could ask for,” he replies and they hug again, but her body feels abnormally cold.

...

Professor Magnolia and Sonia return home.

They’re tired and exhausted, having spent the remainder of the night at the police station where they informed the officers about the attack and filed a missing person’s report. To their utmost surprise, said missing person has mysteriously turned up home the following morning.

She’s sitting in the conservatory with a cup of tea in hand and little Polteageist is floating beside her though he looks downtrodden and holds his teapot lid in his hands, his head bowed low, and the professor and Sonia stand in shock, staring as she lowers her cup and smiles at them.

“Where on earth have you been?!” they cry.

They’re ecstatic to see her though Magnolia tells her off at the same time and the women share an embrace, sit down and have some breakfast.

“I went to find something,” she replies. “Everything’s under control. Did you tell Leon what happened?”

Sonia nods, anxious. “I had to, I was so worried. I called him last night and told him everything. He spent the whole night looking for you.”

In response, she finishes the rest of her tea and immediately rises from her seat. “Thanks, Sonia. I’ll go see him now. Professor, please excuse me.” Without a second to spare, she heads for the front door.

“You just got home!” Sonia exclaims, confused by her behaviour.

She pauses, turns round to the seated women and smiles.

“Professor Magnolia, Sonia. Thank you for everything,” she says, “I won’t forget your hospitality.”

…

In Postwick, Leon paces the kitchen with his phone. Charizard lingers in the doorway, holding his claws together whilst mum and Hop throw each other concerned glances.

He’s been looking for her all night after he received the frantic, distressing call from Sonia, who had informed him that something had attacked and chased her out of the house in the middle of the night, and it had also killed two of their pokemon.

They had cleaned the blood off the walls, stairs and floor and were hoping that she would come back in an hour or so, but she hadn’t.

He wished Sonia had told him earlier because he thought there was something wrong when he had tried to call earlier only to go through to voicemail.

Leon had searched all the places where he thought she might be but he had no success. If it wasn’t for Charizard, he probably wouldn’t have made it back home before dawn.

His phone rings, the screen indicating a call from Oleana.

“Hello?” he says, pressing the phone to his ear.

“We’re outside.”

“Alright. Thank you, Ms Oleana…”

Leon quietly hangs up and looks at his family.

“Leo…” Mum says worriedly, “…I think it’s best to leave the search to the police now. You’ve done all you can...I’m sure she’ll turn up. Hop and I can go look for her and we’ll keep an eye out on the news…. Please, you should get ready…Chairman Rose and Ms Oleana are waiting for you.”

He has a strict timetable today, back-to-back with events and battles which allowed no flexibility.

Leon has no other choice but to nod and he leaves the kitchen, heading to his room with Charizard bumbling after him with dark circles under his eyes. His pokemon is tired; they had spent the night flying around, searching but to no avail. He lifts a hand and pats Charizard on the neck.

“Thanks for your help,” he murmurs appreciatively and Charizard lets out an exhausted snort in response.

They barely got any sleep.

After Leon gets changed out of his casual wear and into his Champion gear, Charizard meets him outside where a black car is waiting.

The door automatically opens and inside, Oleana sits rigidly in the passenger seat with her long legs crossed over the other. She taps at her phone delicately, eyes glued to the screen. A tailored suit in a plastic cover is strewn carefully over her lap with a dry cleaner’s label on the hanger.

Leon slips inside and the door automatically closes behind him; the driver begins to reverse out of their driveway and mum and Hop stand at the front door, waving him off.

“We have a busy schedule ahead of us,” Oleana murmurs, without looking away from the flashing screen of her phone, “Chairman Rose has already arrived at the hotel for the fanmeet.”

“Right, the fanmeet,” Leon echoes, staring outside the window as the scenery of sleepy Postwick slowly disappears behind them; the driver steers the car towards the direction of the motorway.

Once they’ve arrived at the hotel, the chauffeur steers the car to one of the backdoors; despite the attempt to be discreet, some eager and diehard fans are waiting for Leon and once he gets out of the car, he hears wild cheering and a large crowd of women and men of all ages stand behind barriers, holding signs and waving them in the air; the majority of his fans are ordinary folk, though some of them are donned in copies of his snapback and wearing other merchandise he himself isn’t actually particularly familiar with.

Everyone’s chanting his name feverishly and he doesn’t want to disappoint despite his own personal circumstances; Leon raises his arm and waves to his adoring crowd with a wide grin on his face before he does his infamous pose. The group goes wild in response and once the theatrics are over, the security team are quick to escort him inside.

They lead him to his dressing room where the makeup artist and hair stylist are waiting for him.

He is made to sit down in front of the lit-up vanity mirror where he sees just how tired he actually is, but they hide it with makeup and he lets them work on him but the anxiety and unease bubbles within.

Where is she? Where could she be? Is she back yet?

Once they’ve finished prepping his face and combing his hair, he is finally allowed to sit up and leave his chair and the first thing he does is ask the artists for a moment alone.

They’re friendly and accommodating enough, so they oblige and exit, leaving him alone in the dressing room to be with his thoughts.

The show must go on but he is so sick with worry about her whereabouts that he runs to the door – was this really happening? Was he really going to tell Rose he cannot go through with it today? Was he really going to drop everything and leave?

However, none of those are necessary because he opens the door and there you are, standing with a smile on your face.

“Hi Leon.”

He’s utterly shocked to the core, eyes wide, and he looks at you head to toe before he glances around the corridor; how on earth did you get in? This is a VIP section and certainly for backstage crew, for staff members only. How did you manage to slink past?

None of those matter; Leon pulls you inside the room, closes the door before anyone can see and immediately throws his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

“Where’ve you been?” he manages to choke out, with his eyes squeezed shut and nose buried into your hair. He holds you so tightly, arms crushing your body to his as though fearing you would disappear if he let go. “Sonia told me what happened, and I went out to look for you.”

You let out a gentle sigh, wrapping your arms around him in return and resting your cheek against his shoulder.

“I know, she told me. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make everyone worry,” you whisper, closing your eyes as you relish the feel of being in his arms again and his warm chest pressed deeply against yours.

“I’m just glad you’re here and that you’re safe,” he replies, his voice muffled as he nuzzles your nape.

As he sighs, tightening his arms around your waist, you pull away slightly to place a hand over his cheek, making him look at you. Your eyes meet and as his eyes searches yours, you smile gently, brushing some hair from his face, running your fingertips over his stubble.

Leon leans in, your foreheads pressing together, noses rubbing affectionately and your lips curls into a fond smile.

“Leon?”

“Yes?”

“Everything’s going to be okay,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, “I’m not afraid anymore.”

There’s a brief silence and Leon slowly releases you. Holding you at arm’s length, he gazes at you intently, his honeyed eyes sweeping over your form before he presses his palm gently over the curve of your cheek.

“What happened?” he says quietly.

Your gaze softening, you lean into his hand and shake your head before you gently take his hand into your own then reach for his other. You hold his large hands tightly with your own and you both avert your glances to your entwined hands.

You smile once more before you look up, your gazes meeting.  

“I love you,” you murmur.

Lifting his hands to your lips, you press a kiss over his knuckles and close your eyes. “I love you so much, Leon.”

“I love you too," he stutters out, taken aback by your gesture. His cheeks flush brilliantly and you can hear his heart pounding loudly against his ribs.

He watches as you slowly reopens your eyes and let go albeit you do not mask your reluctance to do so, letting go of him with a shaky breath from the back of your throat. There’s a profound despair settling in your eyes as you look up at him.

“I need to go now,” you say quietly. “Goodbye.”

Something’s wrong, and Leon is overcome with the most dreadful sensation. A desire to hold you back, to stop you, overwhelms him and when you turn, he attempts to reach for you once more but you’re already leaving and Leon follows you outside his dressing room.

“Wait!” he yells, calling after you, “Come back! Where are you going?”

He’s quickly interjected by his makeup artist who has returned with some coffee in hands. “Leon? What are you doing outside? Please go back in, the fans cannot see you like this and the event’s about to start.”

The makeup artist cheerfully steers a conflicted Leon towards the direction of the room with a hand on his elbow, but he’s reluctant to go inside.

“Let’s get you all made up,” she says cheerfully but much to her vexation, Leon shakes his head, pulling himself away.

“I’m sorry!” he yells; although he’s wracked with confusion and guilt, Leon just knows the right thing to do at this moment is to follow you.

“Leon, come back!” she shouts as Leon races towards the direction you had disappeared off to. “Leon!”

...

Sonia tells Leon you haven’t come back so he crosses the house off his list. With Charizard, he goes through some of the places that might be meaningful to you; it could be the cemetery, or the hill where you had watched the sunrise together, it could be the mansion where you completed your first mission together, or it could be the area near the lake where you had camped together and ultimately had your first kiss.

Meanwhile, you stand in the middle of the cemetery, gazing at the large space around you that you can utilize.

Unsheathing your penknife, you grasp it firmly in your palm before you turn to Lucario and your pokemon.

“Do not let anyone enter,” you utter, and your pokemon nod in acknowledgement.

You watch them disperse then glance at the knife in your hand.

“Let us begin,” Deimos says, and you nod. “Do exactly as I say.”

You slide the blade over your hand as instructed, the blade tearing your skin apart so seamlessly and effortlessly…but you do not feel any pain; as fresh blood begins to bubble out from your sliced flesh, you put the blade down and dab a finger into the wound.

Lowering yourself over the ground, you begin to swipe your fingers over the concrete, drawing various symbols and runes.

Leon arrives at the cemetery, having guessed this would be where you are, and as he hops off Charizard’s back, he thanks his pokemon and races towards the locked gates where he sees you within, crouching over the ground near the mausoleum; you’re engrossed with some task that concerns writing in the dirt…and he sees that your hands are drenched with blood.

Leon yells your name but you do not respond, and as he tries to open the huge gates, they don’t budge as predicted. He could always scale the fence or fly over the barrier using Charizard but before he can even take one simple step, Gengar appears from out of nowhere, accompanied with a shiny Lucario holding a wooden staff.

He studies the pokemon carefully, in particular, the shiny Lucario. It’s as you mentioned - the Lucario is real. Gengar, with his never-ending grin, slowly shakes his head before gathering a massive swirl of energy in his hands.

It’s a Shadow Ball, and Gengar quickly sends it hurtling towards Leon’s direction whilst the Lucario spins his staff in a circle and aims the tip at Charizard, a bright light shooting out.

Charizard counters the attack by spewing forth a burst of flames and immediately zooms towards Leon to protect his friend, Gengar’s attack hitting him squarely in the belly.

“Charizard!” Leon yells, before he flings his glance to the pokemon. “What are you doing?”

“You cannot intervene,” Lucario replies, his voice loud and as clear as day.

Charizard snorts in disbelief at the talking pokemon and turns to gawp at your direction; you’re oblivious to the gathering outside, drawing on the ground without stopping.

To get the message across, Gengar flings a Dark Pulse at the flame pokemon and Leon grits his teeth as Charizard dodges.

“I need to go to her,” he yells, but Lucario shakes his head and twirls his staff in his paws, moving to an offensive stance. “Charizard, use flamethrower!”

Outside, you can hear the disturbance as the three-way pokemon battle begins between Gengar, Lucario and Charizard; you’re finished with your runes regardless and you rise to stand, swaying slightly from the blood loss, your body feeling weak.

Surrounded by bloody symbols, you move to the centre of the pentagram you’ve drawn, kneeling down.

“Ready?”

You nod, closing your eyes before you take a deep breath, attempting to drown out the distracting noises of the battle outside.

“Voco autem a tenebrarum gente omnia mala de fovea,” you murmur, holding your arms out, your palms facing upwards; the blood in your hands trickling down your fingertips and nails, droplets staining the ground. “Phobos, viditur.”

Your incantation is finished, you return to the edge of the circle and the sky above swiftly turns from its usual light blue hue to a deep, intense red.

Leon and the pokemon stop at once, throwing their gazes up. Lucario, with no more intention to battle due to the ritual being successfully completed, lowers his staff and Leon rushes up to the gates of the cemetery, grasping the cold bars as a strong wind begins to pick up, sending leaves and debris on the floor whirling high into the air.

He yells your name again whilst Charizard takes to the air and attempts to fly inside – he’s immediately repelled by an invisible force and his body slams backwards. Roaring in confusion, Charizard huffs as he gets back up before he unleashes a massive barrage of flames at the invisible barrier.

Leon watches as the symbols surrounding you begin glowing brightly before the ground splinters; you do not move or step backwards and Leon calls out to you, his pleas falling onto deaf ears.

His eyes widen as soon as numerous black tendrils begin to crawl out from the gaps of the cracked earth, some of them slinking over your feet and stretching towards your calves…the ground bursts apart and the huge creature buried within rises high and into the air with a loud roar, towering over your small form.

Your gaze lands on the creature that manifests, its dark limbs spiralling and contorting in the air before they settle to float around its body aimlessly. It is a creature of unholy origin, something that doesn’t belong here.

“Phobos,” you murmur.

It shifts and coils, the black mass curling into itself and out before a single red light forms in the middle of its body.

“Who has summoned me?”

Its words slither out in a series of scratches and hisses and once it spots you, it lowers itself to your level, peering at you with its glowing red eyes.

“You,” it says. “You have finally figured it out.”

A black tendril shoots out, wrapping itself around your neck tightly and lifting you off the ground as though you weighed nothing; your legs dangle as you’re raised up a few feet off the ground. You struggle, legs kicking as it snickers and sneers.

“You fool; I was going to devour you later, but since you seem so keen….”

Phobos’ voice grows fainter and fainter, its words slowing down as the darkness it is made out of begins to spread, blanketing your vision.

As you stare into the abyss, you attempt to detect any traces of movement that might explain its existence or the matter it’s composed of. Even at this moment, to the very end, you’re still trying to understand, to figure out how things work.

How it works.

But nothing remotely comes to mind.

You can liken it to a black hole but ultimately, you cannot fathom the origins or how it came to exist.

And now you’re going to be devoured.

Deimos’ voice returns: “What’s the happiest memory you can recall?”

“I don’t know.”

“Choose one.”

A series of events are presented to you, almost like a reel. How quaint. A flash of light flickers and there’s a scene depicting you, Sonia and Magnolia and the pokemon having tea in the conservatory. You smile; of course, you had so many lovely, tender memories with Sonia and the professor who treated you like one of their own.

However, it’s quick to change from the conservatory to show you and Jace sitting on the sofa in his apartment, watching and laughing as you watch TV. You had always cherished the time you had spent together no matter how simple it was.

It’s Ezra now. He’s barking orders, using his cane to correct your posture as he circles you. This was a few years ago when you had started training. You’re standing in front of a target – an awkward-looking boulder with a bullseye messily drawn on – and with a talisman in hand, you’re trying to toss it properly and in the best way possible.

“Again,” he barks when you fail, and you remember thinking how harsh and strict he was back then.

Graves is next, and the image of you training with Ezra switches to a scene consisting of you and Graves quietly seated down, watching the game at home on leather recliners. You never realized that although it was a bad time, mere days after your family’s disappearance, but you really appreciated him taking the time to keep you company.

Then the scene changes to the time he taught you several ways on how to hold your torch and another time when you played with Growlithe and Manectric... and finally, you see yourself and Graves eating at Bob’s Your Uncle.

Next, you see Leon. You're camping with him in the Wild Area, sitting close together in those small foldable chairs and looking at the night sky. It’s when you had your first kiss. He’s looking at you and holding your hand so tightly and lovingly, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, and you smile for you remember this, how truly wonderful it all was.

“You have lived a meaningful life,” Deimos says.

“Thank you,” you reply.

”This is it,” it says.

”I know.”

A single tear drips down your cheek because you know what will happen next.

It averts you to look at Phobos, but you are no longer afraid.

Deimos abruptly bursts out of you in a spray of black and promptly pounces on the creature that was holding you, overwhelming it and tearing it apart, ripping it into shreds; you’re released due to the unprovoked attack and you collapse over the ground, unmoving.

Copious amounts of blood gush out from every orifice – your eyes, mouth, nose and ears.

Leon slams his fists against the invisible barrier over and over again.

Loud, unearthly shrieks can be heard as the two creatures maul and fight each other viciously, slashing at one another and ripping each other apart with brutal abandon until one emerges the victor; the one that had emerged from your body.

It stands proudly over its opponent which lies motionless and is beginning to fade away. Victorious, it faces the sky and emits an ear-splitting screech.

Leon winces from the sound, and his fist finally slips through.

The barrier is gone.

The red sky gradually clears, returning to the normal, tranquil blue.

He rushes inside, acting purely on adrenaline, his mind in utter chaotic shambles. He makes his way up to the centre of the graveyard where your body lies sprawled in a pool of blood and he slowly drops to his knees before you, easing you carefully off the ground and into his arms.

There’s so much blood; his fingers are completely soaked as he brushes some hair away from your bloodstained face. You’re unrecognizable.

Leon murmurs your name and gives you a little shake.

Your body wobbles from the action but there is no response.

The massive coil of black floats beside him; it is as dark as the night sky, hovering in the air with very limited shape or distinguished form, freed from the constraints of gravity. Its body is dotted with plenty of red lights which he recognizes to be eyes. They rotate and roll around this sea of darkness with carefree abandon, but they are all focused on him.

Leon can only stare; this cannot be a pokemon. This cannot be a creation of Arceus. Its design, its origins, are far too complex to have been engineered from earth.

It zips to his left, surrounding him and your body, peering at the Champion inquisitively before it looks at you. Then it dives upside down to gaze at Leon and returns to its proper upright position.

“You can see me.”

Leon nods.

The eyes crease with content.

“It is done,” it says, “Phobos is gone.”

…

White ceiling.

Bright lights.

Overlapping voices.

Squeaking wheels.

A sterile, noisy environment.

“We’re losing her!”

“Hurry up!”

You shake your head at all this unnecessary noise, sighing.

“Sissy!” exclaims a cheerful, happy voice behind you, and you turn round to see your little sister running up to you, holding a Teddiursa doll in one hand and Sunkern in the other whilst Cutiefly buzzes near her shoulder.

“Rosie! Cutie! Sunkern?!”

“Heehee, yes, we’re here!” Rosie says with a giggle as she jumps into your waiting arms.

You lift her up and into your arms with a grunt, Cutiefly flies over and nuzzles you gently, then he buries himself into Rosie’s hair and as you look at your sister, you exclaim, “Oh my gosh, look at you, you’re all grown up! I’ve missed you so much!”

She giggles and wraps her arm around your head, kicking her legs around happily. “I missed you too, sissy.”

Turning to the Pokemon, you murmur, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

”They say it’s not your fault,” Rosie remarks as Cutiefly does a few loops and Sunkern squeaks.

Over the white horizon, a familiar black blob is making its way over to you.

It stops a short distance away before contorting and shifting and expelling two bright lights which come floating out. They are safely deposited to the ground and the blob returns to its proper shape.

“As promised, here are your parents,” Deimos says.

“Thank you, Deimos,” you say as you adjust your hold on Rosie.

“You are welcome.”

Deimos retreats and dissolves into wispy black smoke, leaving behind a familiar couple who head towards your direction at their own leisurely pace.

When the couple finally arrives, stopping shortly in front of you, you gently let Rosie down, who rushes towards mum with a grin.

“Mum, sissy’s here!” she says, and mum picks her up next and into her arms.

Your mum looks at Rosie and smiles, before shifting her gaze to you.

Glancing at the smiling faces of your mother and father and sister, you squeeze your eyes shut and smack a hand over your mouth, before you promptly burst into heartfelt sobs and they quickly move to your side.

“Mum, dad…I missed you so much.”

“We know.”

Your mum gently places Rosie down so she can wrap her arms around you, and your father joins in the huddle.

You're shaking as they hold you, sobbing and sniffling uncontrollably

Rosie is squashed in the middle although she giggles and clings to your side, and mum and dad hold you tightly with their eyes closed whilst you bury yourself in their inexplicable warmth, trembling and weeping in their arms.

They really are here.

It’s as though none of this happened and they had never left your side.

“I had a bad dream,” you say as you finally stop, reduced to a few hiccups every now and then.

You gently pull away so you can look at them and you want to look at them for as long as you can, for it's been such a long time since you had seen them in the flesh and not from a picture.

“I had a horrible dream where you were all taken away from me and I was alone. And I wanted to save you. I wanted to save you all.”

“And you did,” says dad, smiling. “We’re finally free.”

A mournful sob escapes your lips as you close your eyes again, and your parents usher you into their embrace again.

”It’s okay, we’re here.”

You shake your head. “I’m scared that I’ll open my eyes and you’ll be gone again.”

”Don’t be scared, we really are here.”

As you snivel, nodding weakly, you slowly open your eyes; your mother and father stand proudly before you, wearing kind smiles on their faces.

“We’re so sorry we weren’t there for you.”

You shake your head.

”You’ve had to grow up without us. You went through so much.”

Again, you shake your head.

“But seeing you now, we’re so proud of you,” mum says as you emit another choked sob. “You’ve worked so hard and you've helped so many people...we're so proud of you, dear…and now the next chapter of your life’s about to begin.”

“...What do you mean?”

“Here, here, look down there and have a look yourself,” mum says with a chuckle, and she steps away and you follow her to what appears to be a ledge where she peers down. “Look at that handsome young man by your side; despite seeing all these horrendous, evil monstrosities, he is still there for you.”

As you stand by her side, she gestures for you to glance down which you do, where you see a despondent Leon sitting by your side, holding your hand. You’re in a hospital room, lying on a bed with an IV drip and hooked up to a heart monitor. This has happened before.

Dad nods in approval. “He has my blessing.”

“Mine too,” mum replies, and your parents chortle and giggle to each other and as you watch Leon, your heart plummets.

“Well, Rosie, the great beyond awaits. Let’s go,” dad says, and he picks up Rosie’s hand and mum takes hold of her other.

“I’m scared,” Rosie says, glancing between your parents.

“Don’t be. I heard there’s a lot of marshmallows and Teddiursas waiting for us.”

“Okay,” she says timidly, “will sissy be coming too?”

”No, darling.”

You blink in disbelief. “Wait, what? What are you talking about? Where are you going?” you say, making a move to follow them but they turn to you with smiles.

“It’s not your time yet, dear,” mum replies.

“What do you mean? I…I was killed. Deimos killed me.”

They shake their heads.

“Not your time,” says dad, “And I’m darn relieved it’s not. You have yet to live a promising life with Leon.”

”But...”

”Tell your Uncle Chris I said ‘hi’, and not to blame himself anymore.”

“…It’s really not my time yet?”

“Of course not, you still have plenty of more adventures with that young man,” says mum; she smiles too but quickly drops it, mirroring your sullen expression. "I'm sorry, dear. You finally got to see us but...."

"It's okay, mum. I'm just glad I got to see you all again. Even if it's...the very last time,” you reply.

Your family return to your side once more where you share one last embrace with your parents and Rosie. You close your eyes as you hold them tightly; you want to hold onto them for much longer but deep inside, you know you have to let go.

You let go of Rosie last, giving her an extra squeeze before she leaves your arms.

“Take care, dear. We love you.”

"Bye mum, bye dad. I love you too.”

“Bye sissy,” Rosie says, scooping her hand out of your father’s so she can wave at you.

"Bye Rosie," you reply, waving. “I love you.”

“Love you!!”

They're walking away now, and you're deathly afraid that the moment they turn their backs to you they'll vanish from your eyes, leaving nothing but that desolate, empty void that was rooted within you for years and years from the very moment they were forcibly taken away...but strangely enough, that feeling never comes.

Your mind is at ease, your heart content as they throw glances at you from over their shoulders, smiling and waving.

You watch as they slowly move further away and away from you until their voices are scattered and slowly, dissolve into faint whispers in the wind and finally, silence.

They are bathed in a comforting glow and you feel at ease and tranquil as they laugh and smile, disappearing into the warm and serene light.

…

Ezra sits on the bench outside with Absol by his side, his dull eyes unfocused and staring limply into nothingness until he hears footsteps approaching.

An individual plops down on the empty space and there is the sound of a newspaper being flipped open, the paper crinkling under their grip, followed by a very weary sigh.

“Hello, my old friend.”

“…Deimos.” Ezra grunts under his breath.

“Your world is rid of a great evil. You must be happy.”

The old man emits a disgruntled sigh under his breath. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“She will be fine.”

He harrumphs, before his lips spread into a smile. “No sacrifices necessary this time?”

The newspaper is carefully flipped to the next page and the voice hums nonchalantly, “Well, herself – which she was aware of...but I brought her back as you requested.”

”No side effects?”

”No.”

“Her family?”

“Safe and moving on.”

“Thanks,” Ezra replies, “...Thank you.”

Deimos brings out a cigarette and a lighter is switched on, the little device emitting a satisfying crackle. “Would you like one?”

“I can’t.”

“Cancer, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“I have never tried one before. I'm very intrigued."

Ezra listens as the cigarette is lit up, Deimos inhales and takes a deep drag then exhales heavily, blowing some crisp, smoke into the air. In a few seconds, he begins to cough and choke.

“This is vile,” he croaks out, and Ezra laughs.

He hasn’t laughed for a while now, not like this. It’s refreshing yet so strange.

“What’s so funny?” says a new voice, gruff and deep, and Ezra quirks a brow as another set of footsteps approach the bench.

“Hm, if it isn’t Chief Inspector Graves. You feeling better?”

”I’m fine. Thanks for asking. You?”

”I’m well.”

Graves glances at Deimos next. “And you are?”

“I'm an old friend.”

Graves responds with a grunt under his breath before he throws his glance to the cigarette. “You got a spare?”

“I do. Would you like one?” Deimos asks.

“Yeah, gimme.”

Graves plops himself on the remaining empty space of the bench beside Ezra once Deimos hands him a cigarette, and he takes a deep drag before exhaling into the atmosphere. “I haven’t had one in years.”

“Don’t make it a habit.” Ezra warns.

"I know my limits."

"How is she?"

"She's in a stable condition now. There was a lot of blood loss but she's pulling through.”

There’s a brief silence as the men sit quietly before they inwardly sigh with relief.

“Weather’s awfully good today, isn’t it?” Graves mutters, looking up at the sky.

“Yeah,” Ezra replies, “it sure is.”

..

..

Many months later.

Leon has a Pokemon battle against Gloria.

He gives it all his best, but he loses.

He is no longer Champion and he silently heads towards the dark corridor on his own, leaving behind the fanfare, the confetti and the cheering, which is no longer for him.

Up ahead, a young woman in a white labcoat leans against the wall, waiting. When he arrives, however, she pushes herself off to stand properly.

Leon grins and makes his way over, sliding his hands around her waist and bringing her close to him, enveloping her into his chest. She wraps her arms around him in response, holding onto him firmly, eyes squeezed shut.

For what feels like a long time, they stand comfortably in each other's warm embrace and when they part, albeit still in each other's arms, he lifts a hand and brushes a loose strand of hair from her face, away from her eyes.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he murmurs.

She shakes her head, smiling. “Not at all.”

“Let’s go.”

He reaches for her and she reaches for him.

Hand in hand, they head for the exit together, towards a future unknown.

..

..

[finnyboywolfhard]

Song That The Morning Brings (Chapter Twenty Four)

Steve Harrington x Henderson! Reader 

catch up here 

summary: the final battle is fought and the time following brings them together 

warnings: angst, FLUFFFF, violence, cursing, spoilers ig 

A/N: this is the final chapter, but there is an Epilogue coming your way :)

word count: 5.3k 

“Do you remember where to go?” Y/N said shouting to Steve as he started to rush to start the car.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” He said as he pressed hard onto the gas pedal. He was going nearly thirty over the speed limit. The three were silent during the ride, through every corner they turned and beyond. They were speeding towards the mall when Y/N saw the stalemate that was ahead of them. There was Nancy standing outside the car with a gun and Jonathan trying to get that car to start, whilst Billy was reving his Engine a bit farther away.

“Fuck, Fuck that’s bad.”

“Y/N, when you said stupid for the promise, what exactly does that entail?”

“Not almost killing yourself.”

“So, purposely hitting Billy’s car might be stupid.”

“I say do it.” Robin chimed in from the back seat.

“If we’re being stupid, we might as well all be stupid together. Let’s do it.” He pushed his foot to the gas, watching to see exactly were Billy was going. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut as they slammed against Billy’s car causing it to spin out a little bit.

Once the car stopped moving, they all looked up to where the other group was. Steve turned towards Y/N and Robin saying,

“Are you guys okay?”

“Ask me tomorrow.” Y/N said, shrugging off the concern at the moment. Her adrenaline was pumping far too hard for her to fully come to terms with how she was feeling, both emotionally and physically. The sound of the monster snarling from inside the mall startled them all back to reality. The Toddfather group stood up in the car to look ahead, before jumping out and getting into the back of Nance’s oldsmobile. The crew began speeding away from the mall, the monster not far from them. The radio crackling once more, gaining the attention of the group awoken everyone back from the nightmare for a moment.

“Dusty bun, you copy?”

“I copy Suzie poo. It sounds much better now thanks.” Y/N and Steve locked eyes for a moment, both showing full shock that Suzie was real. The two lovebirds began discussing, Dustin asking her if she knew Planck’s constant.

“Do you know the Earth orbits the sun?”

“Okay, so I know it starts with two sixes, and then a…what is it?” He asks, losing track of the number.

“Okay, let me just be clear on this. I haven’t heard from you in a week, and now you want a mathematical equation that you should know so you can…save the world?” She asks, clearly pissed off. Y/N giggled a bit before saying,

“I think someone is in trouble.” This made Steve laugh to himself.

“Suzie poo, I promise, I will make it up to you as soon as possible.” He pleaded with her.

“You can make it up to me now.”

“What?”

“I want to hear it.” This caused confusion for everyone in the car. They looked around at each other, looking to see if any of them knew what was up, most of the attention going to Y/N.

“Not right now.”

“Yes, now, Dusty-Bun.”

“Suzie-poo this is urgent.” This is when Y/N got nervous as to what she meant. She knew her brother and he sounded like he was attempting to distract her from whatever she wanted. Either to save himself from embarrassment or anger.

“Yes, yes, you’re saving the world, I heard you the first time,  but Ged is also having Earthsea and he’s about to confront the shadow, so this is Suzie, signing off.”

Y/N let out an anguished “No!” from the back of the car. They needed that number, and now they weren’t gonna have it. There is no way that they were ever going to figure it out in time to save them all.

“wait, wait, wait, wait! Okay! I’ll do it, okay okay!” Dustin yelled, gaining Suzie’s attention back. They all began waiting in anticipation for what he had to do. Dustin’s singing voice began to flood through the car as he sang The Never Ending Story. They all shared estranged look with one another while they continued the song, eventually turning it into a duet. They sang the entire song together, before she finally gave in and said the number.

“Planck’s constant is 6.62607004.” She said before expressing how much she missed him. They went back and forth before they were cut off.  Steve, Robin and Y/N were all sitting facing backwards, watching the monster. Yet, for some reason the monster was turning itself around, heading back towards the mall.

“Uh..It’s turning around!” Steve yelled towards Jonathan and Nancy.

“What?”

“It’s turning around!” Y/N yelled once again, becoming flush with the glass.

“Maybe we wore it out!” Lucas said hopefully.

“I don’t think so. Hold on.” Jonathan spoke before turning the wheel as hard as he could to the left in order to turn the car around to follow the monster back to the mall. As he did so, Y/N got propelled backwards into Steve’s lap, her body lying flesh against his, faces less than an inch apart. Once the car had found its center once again, Y/N pulled herself off of Steve and back to her original seating position. She stared ahead, watching the way the monster moved around, ready to go back to the mall.

“What are we even going to do when we get there?” Robin yelled towards the rest of the group.

“We’re going to need to distract it from both El or the gate closing.” Will spoke up for the first time in a while.

“Isn’t there fireworks on the roof?” Y/N said towards all of the group.

“Yeah, why?”

“We all take some, we light them and torch the fucker.” Y/N said.

“Is that really the best idea?” Steve said mocking how she usually sounds.

“No, but if you all trust me it will be.” They all looked around the car at one another. Jonathan and Nancy grasped hands in the center console.

“Let’s do it.” Jonathan said as they pulled harshly into the mall. They separated into three separate groups, each of them taking a box of fireworks.

“Stay safe.” Jonathan said to everyone. They all muttered their ‘you toos’ and went to their dedicated areas. Y/N watched as Steve set down the box and Y/N lifted a lighter from the pocket of her now battered uniform. All at once, every single group was throwing their fireworks to the creature standing in the center of the mall. It was almost beautiful. Ironic really, how there could be beauty found in this chaos. All of the glowing bright colors, ricocheting and scorching the monster at hand. The rainbow was exploding from every angle, as each group threw firework after firework. Smoke started to fill the room.

“Hey asshole! Over here!” Steve yelled, throwing a firework making direct impact to the monster. They continued throwing until they had run out. Eventually, with each firework thrown, both the monster and Billy grew weaker and weaker. Everyone’s screams echoed around the room as they watched the monster begin to fall closer to the ground.

“Dustin! We’re out of time!” Y/N yelled into the walkie talkie to her brother. She placed the walkie down, ignited her final firework and threw it at the flayed monstrosity. From the balcony, Y/N looked down to where Billy was hovering over El. She couldn’t quite tell if he was still going to hurt her. For a moment, he looked more human than ever. El touched his face gently, as he rose to his feet and faced towards the flayed monster. The monster looked forward onto him, all of its limbs attacking Billy from every angle. Starting with his hands, eventually moving to his torso. Billy let out one more large scream before the monster shoved its largest limb to the center of his torso. Y/N watched as Billy collapsed to the floor. The monster began flailing around, as it’s life began to slip slowly away. The monster’s body flung itself towards the railing where the remaining members of the Scoops Troop stood. Steve pulled Y/N to the floor with him, making sure she wasn’t injured by this now dying monster. When they heard the final thud, they rushed over to the balcony to look down upon the monster. Now dead, they looked at it for a few seconds, before Y/N decided to run down the steps to check on El, Max and Mike who were down below. They all congregated for a moment, before rushing their way out of the smokey building. Dr. Owens and multiple other guardsmen guided them all out of the building. Y/N ran through the back of scoops to get out, grabbing the keys she had left there as she was going. She ran outside just as the ambulances and first responders were coming up to the entrance of the mall.

A few of them came up to her to ask questions, mainly the EMTs who checked for any extreme injuries. They walked her over to an ambulance that was sitting a bit away, just so she could ground herself for a moment. She sat on the edge, wrapped in a fire blanket, wishing and hoping that this was the end of their problems. Wishing and praying that everyone was okay.

“Y/N/N?” Steve’s voice woke her from her trance.

“Oh, hi Stevie. What’s up?”

“I just came to check on you. Are you okay?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what in the hell just happened. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, they cleaned up my face a bit and gave me some water, I honestly don’t think all of …well this will hit me until tomorrow. Why are you just sitting over here by yourself?”

“ I’m waiting to get cleared to drive home. I don’t think my mom has a clue what’s happening.”

“I forgot about that, my keys were taken by the Russians, how am I gonna drive?”

“I can take you back if I’m cleared, I’m gonna take Robin home. I’ll have to pick up Dusty and Erica first, but I assume the Sinclairs will rush to get both of them.”

“Oh sweet thanks.” A silence formed between them. Y/N’s focus was pulled away from Steve and over to where Joyce was standing, giving Will a big hug.

“Y/N/N, the reason I actually came over here was-“

“Steve wait, where’s Hopper? He’s not with Joyce.” She started to panic, watching as Will and his mom stood there hugging. Joyce’s eyes shifted over to El, her eyes brimming with tears. She shook her head a gentle no. Y/N felt her heart drop to her stomach. He was gone. Hopper was gone. Y/N ran over to Eleven as quick as she could, catching her before she fell to the ground in tears. Y/N kept whispering “I’m so sorry” to El over and over and over again. Joyce walked over and took control of the situation. Y/N walked back over to where Steve was standing and fell into his arms, letting a few sobs escape for Hopper. They stood for a moment in tears, before one of the responders gave them the good to go symbol. Y/N, Steve and Robin piled into her car, immediately going to get Dustin, who was alone after the Sinclair’s picked up Erica. Dustin apparently refused a ride, knowing that she was going to come get him.

               The car was overwhelmingly silent. Everyone sat in their own denial and pain. Once they pulled up to the Henderson’s Claudia ran outside, pulling her children into her arms. Quietly whispering in their ears how much she loved them and how glad she was that they were safe. After a few minutes, her attention was pulled away by an introduction.  

“Robin my dear, I don’t think we’ve met yet. “

“We have not; it’s lovely to meet you Ms. Henderson.”

“Please, call me Claudia.” The woman gave the girl a sweet smile. “It’s nice to see you again Stevie, I think the last time I saw you was Graduation. Wasn’t that such a good night?”

“Uh, yeah it was a pretty good night. How have you been, by the way?”

“Same old, same old. Too much work for not enough money. But I can’t complain, I didn’t have to escape fires at my job!” Claudia said with a cackle.

“Mom! Oh my god!” Y/N said with shock and laughter both appearing in her voice.

“What?! This is just as scary to me as your mother! I’m trying to add some levity to it! I’ll stop.” She leaned closer to Y/N, but barely adjusted the volume of her voice. “Have you told you know who about you know what?”

Y/N let out a sigh, realizing that her mom can tell something went down between her and Steve over the course of the mess. Which, had yet to be reconciled.

“I have not, but I will.” She couldn’t help but let her mind wander back to Hopper. He was gone. She would never get to have a Hopper hug ever again. She was never going to listen to his awful advice and his sage fatherly wisdom. She was never gonna get to hear him jokingly flirt with Flo. She was never going to ride shotgun in his truck while he complains about Hawkins again. She was never gonna see the day where he finally wore Joyce down enough to go to dinner with him. She was never gonna have Hopper again. Knowing how much this hurt her, she couldn’t imagine how much pain El was in. This wasn’t gonna be something that will go down lightly.

Claudia kept talking to the three others in the yard for a while. They all told her about all of the events from the past few days, from all perspectives. And not just the already news formulated truth, the REAL events. They stood around before Y/N’s focus came back onto the night.

“Do you guys mind if I change quick before taking you home?”  Y/N said in a reserved tone.

“No, I don’t mind.” Steve said gently.

“You’re both welcome to come in while she does so.” Claudia voiced.

“Oh yes! Can I come see your room?” Robin asked with excited curiosity.

“Yeah sure.” The group moved quietly into the house.

“Dusty, say goodnight to Robin and Steve, you need to shower and go to bed.” Claudia said looking to Dustin with pleading eyes. He did as he was told, bidding them goodnight with long hugs and sad eyes. He wandered into his room and came back out moments later with clothes for after his shower.

“Okay, Robin are you coming back?” Y/N said pointing her finger while she started to leave the room. Robin quickened her step slightly while she followed Y/N back to her room. Robin began wandering around her room looking at all the trinkets, pictures and items she had scattered around the room. Y/N hastily got out of her Scoops uniform and into a pair of sweatpants and the hoodie from Steve. She grabbed a makeup wipe and wiped as much gunk off of her face as she could. She would shower when she got back from taking them home, but this would do for now.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you actually okay with me?”

“What about you? That you like girls? Robin, I love you for who you are, nothing could ever change that.”

“Thank you Y/N, really. I’m so thankful for you.” Robin said with a broad smile. “What’re you gonna do about Steve? That was pretty heavy in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, I figured I would let that go until I take him back. It’s not like it’s gonna be a bad conversation. Anyway, you ready to go home?” She looked back and saw Robin stretched out nearly sleeping on her bed.

“Ugh, I guess so. Your bed is cozy.  I think I may have to come back and sleep in it sometime.”

“Are you asking me to have a sleepover Robin Buckley?”

“That’s exactly what I am asking.” She said as Y/N helped lift her from the bed by her hands. They began walking out before Y/N replied.

“You absolutely will have to come back.” The two girls let out a few giggles while walking into the living room only to see Steve with his arms wrapped around Claudia in a comforting embrace.

“Thank you Claudia, thank you so much.” He looked up from her shoulder and saw the two walking in. He started to pull away from the mother’s embrace.

“You ready to head out Stevie?” Y/N broke the silence.

“Yeah….Uh, yeah. I’m good to go.” Steve glanced between Y/N and her mom a few times.

“I call shot gun!” Robin said, running to and out of the door, yelling goodnight and thank you to Claudia. Steve rushed after her in attempts to race her, saying the same things as Robin.

“I’ll be back in like an hour or so. Head to bed, I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“Y/N, I love you so much. Please be careful, come back head right to the shower and then right to bed. Okay?”

“Okay, I will do that. I love you mom. Trees, Leaves, Needles.”

“Trees, Leaves, Needles.”

Y/N grabbed the keys from the side table and found her way back to the car. Robin and Steve were bickering about Robin getting shotgun.

“Why are you guys fighting? Haven’t you had enough for the night?”

“Settle it for us, who are you taking home first?” Steve asked from the back seat.

“I’m taking Robin back first, then you. Now buckle up.”

The three keep lighthearted conversation until they get to Robin’s house just a little outside of town. Y/N pulled the car to a stop in front of Robin’s home. Y/N puts the car in park and unbuckles her seatbelt. She walks to the other side of the car and wraps Robin in a warm and tight embrace.

“It was fun almost dying with you.” Y/N said in a completely dry tone.

“That’s one way to put it. Goodnight Y/N.”

“Night Rob!” Y/N said while getting back in the car, watching Steve and Robin say their goodbyes from the drivers seat.

He climbed into her car and looked at her gently, she signaled him to buckle up and he did as he was told. They began driving.

“How are you hanging in there Y/N/N?”

“I’m barely hanging by a thread. I just…I can’t believe that I watched Billy die and now Hopper is gone. I also can’t believe all the Russian shit but that will take a lot longer to unpack.”

“I get it, I am so sorry about Hopper. I know how much he means to you, and how much you meant to him.”

“He’s just…” Y/N took a long deep breath to ensure that she wouldn’t cry. “He’s just the closest thing I’ve ever had to a real dad. Same for Eleven, I just worry about her. Ya know? But anyway, how are you? How are you hanging in there?”

“I’m doing alright, feeling a little disgusting from the drugs but vomiting it all up and confessing my love for you helped wake me up a bit. Is it bad that I’ve gotten used to being so scared that this hasn’t even sunk in yet?”

“It is bad, but I’m the same way. I feel…numb.” The car became drowned out by the music playing on the radio. Y/N kept driving, letting the music fill the air rather than rambled thoughts. She knew she needed to tell Steve that she felt the same way, especially because he has apparently known for longer than she has about how he felt. But for some reason, she couldn’t do it. Each moment that felt like it would be the moment, fell flat. She just couldn’t do it.

As she pulled into the Harrington household, all of the emotions of tonight came rushing to her.

“Goodnight, Y/N/N. Promise me you’ll drive safe. Call me tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course. Right when I wake up I’ll call.” She smiled at him. He started getting out of her car and she couldn’t move for some reason. “Goodnight Stevie.” He started walking across her lawn, and that’s when her body took over. She hurriedly unbuckled her seatbelt and jumped out of her car. She ran across the yard.

“Y/N/N, what’re you do-“ Steve was cut off by Y/N kissing him. Like clockwork the two worked in perfect sync and harmony.

Her hands worked their way to his cheeks, hand squishing his cheeks together. Her hands reached back to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to her. This kiss felt different. Instead of the hungry, lustful kiss that they had previously shared, this one was gentle, soft but rushing with passion. Steve’s hands found their way to her waist, pulling her body as close to him as he physically could. Y/N began to pull her face away. The space between them stayed tight, but she opened her eyes slowly to look at the boy in front of her. There he was smiling like a dope, looking in her eyes deeply.

“In case you couldn’t tell, this is me saying I love you back.” She said with a giggle.

“Nah, nope. I didn’t catch that.” His eyes never left hers the entire sentence.

“Steven Joseph Harrington, I am wildly, deeply, crazy in love with you.” Huge smiles were mirrored on both of their faces.

“When did you know?” Steve asked. Y/N gave a timid smile. “Come on! I told you when I knew!”

“My dead honest answer is probably Graduation night. I think that there were feelings before that, but grad night kinda slapped me in the face.”

“Unbelievable!” Steve said with a sarcastic scoff.

“What?!”

“I knew SIX whole months before you? That’s baffling.” He said, pushing her away softly before turning right back to her.

“You’re the one who waited so long to kiss me.”

“What do you mean?!”

“You could have kissed me the moment we met and I would have fallen in love. But you waited until AFTER we graduated.” She mocked his jokingly angry tone. He softly grasped her chin, pulling her in for more kisses. He was kissing her lips longingly at first, but quickly started wildly pecking her all over her face. She cried out for him to stop a few times, breaking through her raucous laughter. Once he finally let her alone she cracked one final joke. “Oh my god, my brother got a girlfriend before I even got a boyfriend.”

“Barely, my parents thought you were my girlfriend the entire time.” She slapped his arm and pushed herself away, realizing how late it was and how bad she wanted to go home.

“Goodnight Stevie, I love you.”

“Goodnight Y/N/N, I love you.”    

 A week had passed before they held Hopper’s funeral. They organized a public wake for him but a private burial. Y/N dreaded the day as it had come closer and closer. He was really gone. They had never found his body, but it was no shock considering how the weapon exploded. The morning of the burial, when she got up, her legs felt weak and her heart was racing a mile a minute. She got dressed in her loose fitting black dress and didn’t dare put a touch of makeup on knowing how much she was going to cry. A knock on her door snapped her attention.

“Y/N/N?” Steve said, cracking the door a little bit. She looked up at him with a sad gaze. He walked a little further into her room, scooping her into his arms for a hug. Her rest his head atop of hers, making sure was encased in comfort. “Are you almost ready to go my dear?” His voice was softer than usual, showing how deep his care for her was.

“I’m ready. Did you tell Dustin it was time?” She said pulling herself away from his chest to look in his eyes. They were sad, but they were nothing compared to her eyes that were flooding with loss. She looked like she was becoming lost.

“Yeah, he’s already out in the car.” He said reaching down to grab her hand.

The drive to the cemetery was quiet, all of them mourning to themselves, yet also together. Steve’s hand rest against Y/N’s thigh, rubbing soft circles as he drove. Her hand sat on top of his forearm, just to make one more point of contact between them. They arrived at the cemetery, meeting up with the remaining members from that night. Y/N barely dropped Steve’s hand the entire time. Pastor Charles asked if anyone would like to speak about Hopper, Y/N instinctively raising her hand.

“When I moved to Hawkins, it was at a time where I needed a father the most, yet I was escaping my own. It’s already hard enough moving to a new school, but moving right at the edge of pubescence is even harder. The moment I met Hopper I knew he was going to help me. And he did. With everything. After all of the events over the past few years and everything in between, there was no one else I wanted to turn to for support, care, advice—well—pretty much everything.” Her voice started to shake, she coughed to cover it up. “Over time, Hopper took up the role of father for me in a way. Obviously, not to the same extent as El, but he was still there. Hopper, if you can somehow hear this. I need you to know how much I love you, and how much you have changed my life. I’m forever thankful for you. Goodbye.” She let the last word fall out, immediately rushing over to Steve to sob into his shoulder. He rubbed her shoulders as she let out more sobs, not once letting go. El and Joyce also decided to talk, but everyone else couldn’t bring themselves to speak over the other three women. The group started to dissipate but Y/N stayed with El for as long as she needed. She told the others to go, and that she’d bring El to dinner in a few hours. The two and cried and talked and bonded for a while, finding comfort in the pain.

 For a few months, being jobless was okay. They got some compensation for the loss of the mall, and they needed time to grieve and relax from the trauma they had endured. But eventually it reached a point, where they needed to get jobs and they needed them quick. So, Steve, Robin and Y/N decided, why not work together again? They had all agreed on Family Video and ran for the hills with it. Steve took them all there on a cooler morning, ready to get the jobs. He pulled in front of store and they all piled out of it.

“You put your mom down as a reference?” Robin asked reading over all of their applications, specifically questioning Steve’s

“Yeah, Why not? She’s like super well respected.”

“Why not? Maybe because she would be biased.” Y/N mocked her boyfriend as he held the door open for her and Robin.

“You are such a dingus.” Robin let out as she trailed past.

They walked up to the counter where Keith was working, handing him the applications as he examined them intently. They all just kind of stood there as he read over them again and again.

“Uh, just to be clear, we weren’t fired, you know the mall burned down and like, killed a bunch of people.” Y/N winced at the thought of all the death. Keith set the papers down for the first time and glanced across all three people.

“Thanks for sharing. Didn’t know.” He threw the papers back towards Robin before pointing at Robin and asking “Three favorite movies. Go.”

“Uh…The Apartment, Hidden Fortress, Children of Paradise.”

“You go!” He snapped towards Y/N’s direction, demanding her to answer.

“Girl Friends, The Graduate and Taxi Driver.” She said swiftly, having already thought about them as Robin was answering. He leaned his head slightly before shoving his finger towards Steve���s face, signaling his turn to answer.

“Favorite movies?” Steve said nervousness evident in his voice.

“Did I stutter?”

“uh… Animal House, for sure. Um…” Steve let his focus drift around, trying desperately to think.

“Eyes on me Harrington.” Keith said, pointing to his own eyes.

“Yeah…Uh, Star Wars.”

“A New Hope?”

“A new what now?” Steve said, Y/N groaned a little bit. They had just watched them all for Dustin a few days ago.

“Which Star Wars?”

“The one with the teddy bears, duh.” He said before mimicking the sound of an Ewok. “No, uh, Oh the one that just came out! The movie that just came out. The one with the DeLorean and Alex P Keaton, and he’s trying to bang his mom.” He let out a laugh as he finished his sentence, both Y/N and Robin sighing, knowing exactly where this was going. “The time…Yeah, those are my top three. Classics.”

Keith had his eyes wander around them a few times, examining them once more.

“You two start Monday.” He said pointing in between Y/N and Robin. “You start never.” He said with dead seriousness in his voice as he pointed at Steve. Y/N felt her hand go to rub his shoulder a bit, watching his head fall in disappointment.

“Will you just, um…Will you give us a minute?” Robin asked gently towards Y/N and Steve.

“Yeah, um, yeah. Come on Stevie, let’s look around.” Y/N began to pull Steve towards the section of the video store closest to the exit. They stood there for a second.

“God, why couldn’t I think of any movies? I looked like an idiot.” Steve said angrily.

“It’s okay Stevie, you were nervous, you couldn’t help it.” Y/N looked towards the counter, where Robin was leaning close to Keith, talking pretty seriously. “Plus, I think Robin is gonna help you out. Do you want to look for a movie to watch tonight? That seems fun!” Y/N said trying to get Steve out of this mood.

“I don’t know, I think that I might hold a grudge against them now.”

“Come on Stevie, we can watch a movie…and cuddle…and….” Y/N said leaving her flirtatious message on the table.

“Are you serious?” Steve looked at her as she shook her head slowly and gently, winking at him as they never broke eye contact. The boy stumbled backwards, letting out a harsh breath falling right into the cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates that was right behind him. He spun around in attempts to catch it, ending up being successful. He looked over to where Robin and Keith were and let out a chuckle while saying, “Oh! Fast Times, Fast Times! Ever heard of it? Top three for me, Keith!”

They all laughed a little bit. Keith said one more thing to Robin before she waved them to follow her as they left. The group piled back into Steve’s car to head back to go back to the Henderson’s.

“Guys, just so you know, you might not want to show a lot of PDA at work.” Robin said from the back seat.

“Oh?” Y/N said turning around to look at her.

“I may have pretended like you guys weren’t dating and claimed that Steve would bring in droves of ladies that he would share with Keith.”

“Robin, did you just hoe out my boyfriend to get him a job?” Y/N asked sarcastically.

“I may have, yes.” Robin said with an upturned smile.

“Hey, at least I got the job.” Steve said before reaching over and grabbing Y/N’s hand.

taglist: @mochminnie @queen1054 @prettysbliss @voidnarnia

[hollywooduniversityalumnus]

7. all filled up with things benign

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Much like any other university, Hollywood University required a metric fuck-ton of paperwork to be submitted for approval of an extended leave of absence from classes. However, unlike most universities, Hollywood U encouraged such leaves, under the condition that they were for career-related endeavours, like a six-week film shoot overseas or back-to-back tapings of a new television show being optioned for one of the many streaming services. Not only would the student receive invaluable “real world” experience, a credit for their resume, and financial compensation, but the university could leverage the experience for positive publicity (and, therefore, receive financial compensation as well).

Though Hollywood U professors stressed the importance of finding work in the industry while studying, most of the students attending the university stuck to using their class projects as resume builders and spent their free time partying and cavorting around California. Those students typically found themselves scrambling to find work once they did graduate, as they had not built enough connections and rapport to be personally contacted for a job. It was sad to see aspiring directors and actors with untapped potential head back home with their heads down and dreams dashed.

Still, Thomas thought, if Hollywood U wanted faculty and students alike to enthusiastically take part in school-sanctioned leaves, they ought to consider making the paperwork less tedious.

He stared down the stack of paperwork that Miss Schuyler had so kindly left for him to deal with. It wasn’t as thick as the stack Priya had once left him – a list of complaints and observations about the students she shared with him, which he promptly recycled, because even he had a limit to his negativity – but it was daunting to look at, especially since he knew that he had to carefully read every word of it to ensure that his student’s participation in Penn Cattrall’s yet-to-be-titled film wasn’t going to end the same way her experience with Clash at Sunset did.

And, of course, to see what he had to do to keep her on track with the rest of her peers. Of all her professors, he had been the obvious choice to administer the work she would need to complete whilst filming, and he was not looking forward to the extra work he would have to do for it.

Knowing there was nothing else to do but dive in, he set down his mug of coffee and situated himself in his seat, taking a moment to adjust the lamp on his desk before pulling down the first of the many stapled stacks.

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Two and a half hours later, Thomas set down his third coffee refill and rubbed between his eyebrows. Behind him, the world beyond the window grew dimmer, and the hallway around his office swallowed up in silence. Certain he was the only one still in that wing of the school, perhaps even on that side of campus, he took a moment to get up and stretch, mind still whirring over everything he had read.

She was due to leave in three days’ time for France. The contracts he read didn’t say anything about the plot of the film she was leading, but he guessed by the extra paperwork regarding health and safety liabilities while filming in the catacombs of Paris that it had something to do with the horrors of being lost in a claustrophobic, labyrinthine setting surrounded by the dead.

Along with the liability clauses, there was a lot said about the safety of the stunt work she’d be performing herself, which he’d flagged with a sticky note. More sticky notes were used to mark certain lines that he needed further elaboration on, and parts of the contracts that seemed impossible to enforce from far away.

It had taken him what felt like eons to get to what was the most relevant part for him: the continuing education contract.

But the words that were so important for him to digest, as he would be the one to hold her to them, swam in front of his eyes as he quickly became lost in thought. Still stuck on the tidbits of information sprinkled within the documents, breadcrumbs that piece together a vague picture of what Miss Schuyler was to be doing during her six-week leave. It bothered him that he was so bothered, but he couldn’t help it.

How was she going to react to being in the depths of the catacombs? She had difficulty just sitting in the dark for too long.

And then: does she even know what she signed up for?

Penn Cattrall should’ve given her a copy of the script. Should’ve given her a head’s up of what was expected (including the stunts that she was apparently doing herself). Should’ve gotten to know her before giving her such a challenging role.

Thomas’s fingers hovered over the keyboard of his laptop before he even realized he’d opened it.

I should warn her, he thought. What if she doesn’t know?

And then that pesky second opinion in his head, another side of himself, countered, She has to know already. After everything that happened with Anders Stone and Richard Sheridan, she would have read everything Penn Cattrall’s people sent over with a fine-toothed comb. She wouldn’t agree to this without knowing.

But what if she did?

Thomas slowly lowered his laptop’s screen and stared at the brand logo on the back. The edges of a small sticker, one from his college days that he’d stumbled upon when sorting his attic, were peeling off, and he pressed his fingers down to try and flatten them. It was a simple rectangular sticker of a quote. A memory of Yvonne purchasing him that sticker at a street fair near their campus bubbled up, but he pressed down with his fingers as if to pop it.

The enemy of art is the absence of limitations.

Though he was remarkably awarded for a fairly new director, Penn Cattrall did not yet have the power behind his name to blow dozens of millions of dollars on a single film. It had taken Thomas two films and just as many Audrey Awards to get there himself. Though the estimated five million dollar budget for the film was nothing to scoff at, Thomas knew that, after taking into account the portion of the funds that would be exchanged for access to the off-limits areas in which they’d be filming, as well as all the equipment that would be used to capture the film and keep the cast and crew safe down below, the true budget of the film was going to be quite tight indeed.

That would be a limitation, a box that would force Penn Cattrall and his crew to think outside of it without breaking the bank or disrupting the production. It could be done; after Spielberg and the Jaws crew sunk so much money into creating the mechanical shark that famously rarely worked, the director’s decision to omit the sighting of the shark until much later in the film became one of the most memorable techniques to build suspense in film. Limitation worked then.

But Margot . . .

Since that night on that gaudy set, he wondered how she coped with the memories of her past. He’d seen her sitting in darkened rooms before – like in the auditorium watching Spencer Yamaguchi’s one-man musical – but there were still light sources, still a feeling of being among a crowd, of safety. But he’d also seen – well, heard - her on that set, crying to herself.

How would she react to long hours of being deep below ground, surrounded by the remains of those who passed long ago? Penn Cattrall wouldn’t be so cruel as to make her film in complete darkness, but the catacombs definitely weren’t known for making people feel safe. Nor, Thomas guessed, would the characters be in the catacombs with perfectly working light sources, if this was a horror film like all his others. Sure, there had to be breaks where they came up for air, food, and sunlight. But what of those hours of filming in near darkness, amongst death and decay?

Was her past her limitation?

More importantly, would – could – she work with it?

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“Miss Schuyler. Thank you for arriving on time for once.”

Displeased with being called into his office on a Friday morning, Margot lazily fell into the chair opposite his desk, her hands already tapping mindlessly on her thighs. Immediately diverting his gaze from her thighs – and the skirt she somehow considered appropriate enough to wear for such a meeting – Thomas cleared his throat.

“I’ve read through the paperwork for your extended leave,” he began. “Most of it is in order. I’ve already forwarded the very little I have issue with to be further reviewed by Penn Cattrall and Hollywood U’s lawyers.”

“Great,” Margot said, her voice flat and tired. “Is that all?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I do hope you don’t show this kind of attitude to Penn Cattrall, or you’ll be fired and blacklisted in this industry faster than Megan Fox in her Transformers days. This is a tremendous opportunity for any actor, and even more so for a newcomer.”

In the silence that followed his words, her head lowered. Her lower lip trembled. And his stomach twisted.

Where was the confident, cocky young actress determined to take Hollywood by storm? It was almost as if they were back on that damn set, drinking Snapple and letting their guards down little by little. This time, he could see her face, and he knew that the issue was not what he had just said to her, but something else. Something had been bothering her before she’d even come into the room.

His voice softened. “What happened?”

Margot immediately shook her head. “Nothing.”

“I know you,” he said before he could stop himself. “This ‘nothing’ is a ‘something.’ What is it?”

And when she finally looked up at him again, he stood at the sight of the tears spilling from her eyes. He moved quickly, taking the box of tissues he had set upon a shelf and maneuvering around his desk until he was standing by her side. Handing her a tissue, he leaned against the desk and took in her body language, noticing with grim certainty that she had been feeling off long before he’d even thought to discuss the paperwork with her.

She blew her nose. Then, with another tissue, she dabbed at her eyes and swept under the lower lashes, the tissue picking up some makeup on its way.

“Take your time,” he said.

Take your time? a part of him repeated. Since when did you get so soft?

Margot let out a deep, shuddering breath. Then, focusing more on the steadily growing pile of tissues she accumulated in one hand, she spoke.

“Up until a week ago, Penn Cattrall was sure that we were going to be filming entirely on a sound stage.” Her voice trembled, and she took a deep breath. “I – I was fine with that. A sound stage means that the lights come up, you step outside for some light, you know, no problem at all. But then . . . I don’t know how he got permission, but . . .”

She promptly pulled another tissue from the box and blew her nose into it. Thomas crossed his arms over his stomach, holding in his impatience.

Don’t rush her; let her find the words.

“I don’t think I can do it,” she admitted, and then it was a rush of words like a flood headed downhill. “I’ve been trying – I mean, I’ve been practicing, rehearsing in my room in the dark, just a headlamp and a flashlight, all by myself but – I can’t do it, I can’t do it in my own bedroom, let alone the fucking Parisian catacombs with the bones and the tunnels and – what if I get scared and then lost? What if – he said we’d be safe, but no one’s ever been permitted to film in the off-limits areas till now, and I – I’m terrified.” She buried her head in her hands. “How can I call myself an actress if I can’t get over this?”

He looked over her in silence.

“I’m going to ruin my career, and it’s just begun.”

Her words fell on deaf ears. Thomas began breathing slowly, deeply, and, while it clearly annoyed Margot, she caught on to what he was doing and matched his breaths. Inhale, hold, exhale, hold, repeat. Inhale, hold, exhale, hold, repeat.

When it seemed like she’d finally calmed, Thomas sighed. “The pressure you’re putting on yourself is not helping you. You will gain nothing from considering yourself a failure from the start. Your performance will be impacted by your thoughts. You will lose your starring role if you let this go on.”

“How do I stop it?” Margot cried. “You’re my teacher. Teach me.”

Thomas grimaced at the reminder.

“How do I get over this?” she asked.

“You don’t,” he said bluntly. “You simply learn to roll with it, as many other actors and artists before you have.”

Margot rolled her eyes. “Oh, great, another anecdote from your days on Battlefield Earth. I would’ve thought you’d told them all in class by now.”

“Mar- Miss Schuyler.” Thomas blinked a few times, reminding himself of decorum, of the rules he had to adhere to as a faculty member speaking to his student. “You’re not the first, and certainly not the last, actor working with their traumas and fears to complete a production. A simple Google search will tell you that a multitude of actors admit to feeling emotionally and mentally drained from the work they do that involves at least some aspect of their fears. For some, it is claustrophobia when filming in confined spaces for the majority of a film. For others, it is continual exposure to creatures or things that they may associate with terrible memories or have faced before and nearly lost. Fear of heights in an action film. Fear of large bodies of water and drowning after seeing such a thing happen in their childhood. And yes, fear of the dark and the unknown shrouded within it.”

She dabbed at her eyes with another tissue.

“You are not alone in your feelings. More to the point, you are not – and will not be – alone. You will never be alone like that again.”

She nodded.

And Thomas, quickly turning back to his desk, procured some papers from his desk and changed the topic.

“So, about your homework . . .”

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Production Progress Journal Entry 1:

Within the Parisian catacombs, there is a sign that says (according to Penn Cattrall, who translated it for me): “Stop! This is the Empire of the Dead.”

They are not wrong.

To say that I am far beyond my comfort zone is an understatement. More accurately, I’m far beneath it (twenty metres or so, in fact; thanks, tour guide Jack/Jacques).

Penn had arranged a special tour for the cast and crew, which was done in staggered batches of ten with a guide in front and a guide at the rear to keep everyone together. Honestly, they didn’t need to arrange it like that; I doubt that anyone, when within the Empire of the Dead, would branch away from the group when surrounded by dust and bones and stale air. The tour was apparently the same as any regular tour, though the “special” part of it came into play once we had reached a certain point within the catacombs, when the guides took us through a clearly marked off-limits area to show us one of the many places we’ll be working in under the direct supervision of several officials and safety officers.

You think, once you’ve walked around in a cavern made of cadavers for forty or so minutes, you’d be relatively numb to the sight of another area stacked high with bones.

I just . . . didn’t expect the first shots we’ll be filming to take place within such a microscopic tunnel.

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Thomas Hunt’s comments on Production Progress Journal Entry 1:

I am not surprised to hear of the extensive security and safety detail.

I am surprised that you didn’t expect to film in areas that may trigger claustrophobia.

Have you done anything at all to help mentally and physically prepare for the shoot?

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Production Progress Journal Entry 2:

On the plane ride to France, I’d started listening to the podcast “How to Find Peace Within Yourself: A Guided Meditation to Alleviate the Darkness and Manifest the Light.” Once settled in my temporary hotel home for the next six or so weeks, I made space on the floor and did partake in some of their suggested activities, including mindfully making a cup of tea and waking up at ungodly hours to sit in front of the window and focus on how the light of the sunrise felt creeping up my body.

At about seven in the morning today, we made our first descent of many for this film into the catacombs.

Approximately nineteen minutes later, a safety officer had guided me out, where I’d narrowly managed to reach a trash bin before I’d vomited up my breakfast.

Manifesting the light through mindful tea making is bullshit.

Thank fuck it was only a rehearsal.

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Production Progress Journal Entry 2.5:

Just got out of a last-minute meeting/admonishment talk with Penn. From what memory serves, he told me that he was worried we’d both bitten off more than we can chew with this ambitious project. I know he’s trying to soften the blow of the underlying warning of his words.

He is unimpressed. He has every right to be.

Whatever he saw in me when he chose me is not present now, and I don’t know how to come back from this.

I am not the only cast member who has to take frequent breaks from below; my co-star, Oliver Abel, is extremely claustrophobic. He has a scene planned for filming tomorrow that involves him squeezing through the aforementioned tunnel, and I honestly don’t know how he’ll pull it off.

I hope he can do it.

I hope we all can do it.

I don’t want to lose this opportunity.

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Production Progress Journal Entry 3:

I don’t know if I can do what Oliver did.

He’s managed to use his fear to power his performance, sobbing desperately and clawing at the tunnel walls. First take, best take, and while I’m proud, I’m also nervous.

The past few days, Penn has allowed me to focus mainly on above-ground scenes while the crew gets more comfortable with working underground. But we’re running out of filler scenes to film. Soon, it will be my turn to wiggle atop a pile of bones (supplied by Penn’s affiliated prop company, and not the real bones of dead citizens) and plea for mercy.

I don’t know how I’m going to do it.

Especially if my headlamps malfunction, plunging me into darkness, as mentioned in the final draft of the screenplay I got a few hours ago.

Help.

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Thomas Hunt’s comments on Production Progress Journal Entry 3:

You are too busy worrying about yourself that you are not learning from those around you.

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The phone call came just before eight p.m.

Thomas had reclined in his favourite armchair, beat after a day of marking subpar assignments. His red pen had run out of ink halfway through an essay that was more a waste of paper and ink than an acceptable analysis on auteurist theory, and he’d had to switch from coffee to scotch after ripping apart Lance Sergio’s paper on Sophie’s Choice.

Really, how is that boy still enrolled?

The floor lamp positioned by his armchair went dark, and Thomas turned his head to look at it. He’d have to buy a new bulb for it. Been meaning to for a while now. Another thing to add to his ever-growing list of responsibilities and errands.

He blinked slowly at the shrill noise that broke the comfortable silence, realizing seconds later that it was his cell phone ringing. A number he didn’t recognize, with an area code he couldn’t place off the top of his head.

Still, he answered.

“Who is this?” he asked simply, leaning back into his chair.

Her hushed voice had him jolting straight up again.

“I can’t do this. Help me.”

Though he felt as though his blood has run cold, he kept his voice even as he asked, “How did you get this number, Miss Schuyler?”

“I have my ways.” She sounded on the verge of tears. “I’m scared. I don’t – I don’t think I can do this.”

And Thomas, being the level-headed, critical, highly regarded and rewarded director, actor, professor, and screenwriter that he was, sucked in a deep breath before replying.

“Yes, you can.”

“I can’t, I-”

Thomas’s voice was stern. “Margot. Did I not stand for you during your hearing? Do you think I said any of those things falsely? You have shown tremendous growth in such a short time. You led and assisted in multiple school projects. You have acting and producing credits for films that have been nominated – and won – awards.”

“I never had to do any of those things underground,” she argued, her teary voice giving way to a spark of anger. “I’m fine in front of a camera and behind it. I’m happy to be in the spotlight. But I can’t cope with this. Have you ever been to the catacombs? How lonely and suffocating it is to be so far below, hidden away from the world? I close my eyes for too long and it’s like I’m right back in that fucking shed my mother pretended was a house.” Her voice broke on the last few words, and Thomas’s chest tightened.

Her words were met with silence until he had gathered his thoughts on how to assure her.

“The camera crew is there. Mr. Cattrall will be there. You will not be alone. At the first sign of distress, they will halt filming so you can regain composure.” His voice hardened. “You cannot quit now. You have just begun to soar.”

“I’m going to plummet face-first into bones and debris.”

Thomas huffed. “Perhaps. But you will get up again.”

She sniffled.

“Have you considered a therapist?”

“It’s a little late for that.”

“It’s never too late to take care of yourself,” Thomas admonished. “A podcast and meditation are good starts, but the way you react to things that remind you of your trauma is rather unhealthy and will stunt the growth – both personal and craft-wise – that you have already made.”

She said nothing.

He cleared his throat. “Does Mr. Cattrall know?”

She snorted. “All he knows is I’m a failure. I can practically hear him calling for my replacement as we speak.”

Thomas checked his watch, then strained to remember the time difference. Eight p.m. here was . . .

“Are you calling me right before your shoot starts?”

He heard her take a sip of something. “I could barely sleep. I’ve felt sick to my stomach all night.”

“Margot, you are not making this easy for yourself.”

She snorted again. “It’s not going to be easy, period.”

Thomas sighed, running his fingers over one of the arms on his chair. “You need to tell Mr. Cattrall. A good director knows their performers. I’m sure he’ll be more lenient on you if he knew.”

“And be called a crybaby?” Margot snapped. “No, thanks.”

Thomas let out a huff of annoyance. “Margot, why are you even calling if you don’t want any of my advice?”

“Because . . . I don’t know anyone else who would care.”

Silence.

“Margot-”

“Miss Peaches is gone, and I can’t remember the breathing technique she taught me.” Her voice grew higher, hysterical. “I sleep with a lamp on because I can’t handle the feeling of being abandoned again. The few things I’ve filmed in darkness were done surrounded by dozens of crew members on sound stages where everything is predictable and there’s no threat of cave-ins or collapses.”

“Margot, listen-”

“You heard me that night on the set. You know how it makes me feel.”

“I do. I did hear you. I know what you’ve been through.” Thomas’s voice, once again, became strangely soft, soothing. “Margot, you cannot let this hold you back forever. You will face it again and again. It’s not something one simply ‘gets over.’ You have to learn with work with it, and make it work to your advantage.”

She sobbed, and his throat went dry. “How?”

Thomas closed his eyes. His fingers pressed firmly against the arm of his chair, as if smoothing down the edges of a peeling sticker.

“‘The enemy of art is the absence of limitations.’”

He hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud until Margot spoke again, her voice shaky but still understandable.

“Orson Welles.”

He hummed. “He was my father’s favourite filmmaker. My parents rarely let me stay up to watch movies, but when a Welles was on, well . . . he made the popcorn, I sliced the jalapenos, and we sat together under his spell. It was one of the few times we actually got along.”

“You put jalapeno slices in your popcorn?”

Thomas smiled. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“I’ll stick with Reese’s Pieces, thanks.” She sounded a bit more upbeat, which he found encouraging.

So, while it wasn’t something he normally advertised, he admitted, “My father named me after him, actually.”

The sound of Margot’s laugh was like a burst of sunlight on his skin, warming and comforting. “Really? How so?”

“Orson is my middle name.” Thomas failed to keep the smile out of his voice. “I understand why he did it, given Welles’s impact on cinema, but it was tough just learning how to spell it when I was a boy.”

“I’m trying to imagine you as a child. All I see is a scowling little boy in a suit.”

“You wouldn’t be very far off.”

“So you’ve always worn suits?”

“My mother dressed me to impress. And to get made fun of.”

Every time she laughed, the weight on his chest lifted a little more. And he found that he couldn’t hold back his own laughter, even as he shook away the memories of playground bullies kicking dirt at him and scribbling on his sleeves with markers.

“Thomas?” Her laughter had died down, and her voice was timid.

“Yes?”

Margot sighed. “Thank you. I feel a little better now. I’ll try to remember what you said, about taking care of myself and getting up again.”

He nodded, as if she could see it. “Don’t forget the quote.”

“Right.”

There was a pause.

“Could you . . . elaborate further on that?”

Thomas rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Limitations breed creativity. They foster growth beyond its restrictions. Take your co-star for example. Claustrophobic, yet he filmed his scene well. You wrote that his fear powered his performance, made it stronger. You feel limited by your trauma. But could you work with it and use it to add verisimilitude to your character’s journey?”

Margot, wherever in Paris she was, took a deep breath that sounded like a gust of wind into his ear. “I – I’m not sure.”

“You’ve fuelled your performances before with your pain.” Thomas thought back to the first acting project she’d helmed since Clash at Sunset’s premiere, when Anders Stone tricked her out of millions of dollars. She’d played a fiery sidekick to her classmate Erik’s cliché cowboy, effectively stealing the show with how genuine her actions seemed to be. “You’ve used anger to your advantage. Pain is part of that realm. You do not have to be sure. You only have to try.”

In the background of her side of the call, he could hear someone talking to her. Then, Margot’s voice came back on the phone, apologetic.

“I have to go. It’s time.” She paused, then added, “Thank you. Really. I’ll try to make you proud.”

Thomas smiled to himself and said, “Don’t forget to do your progress report.”

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Long after she’d hung up, he stared at his phone in silence.

I’ll try to make you proud, she’d said.

You already have, he wanted to reply.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

He poured three more fingers of scotch into his glass and carefully selected two perfect ice cubes from the steel container on his drink cart. Flicking on a random channel, he attempted to absorb the film that was already midway through. Instead, it was a flashy, action-packed thing for his eyes to watch while his mind whirred behind them.

He wished he could stop replaying their phone call in his head. The way he’d told her his middle name, admitted he’d been bullied for being different, and encouraged her to use her vulnerabilities to her advantage.

The sound of a gun firing temporarily shook him from his thoughts. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he raised his glass to his lips.

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There had been a time when, if Thomas strained his ears enough, he could hear the echoes of Yvonne’s laughter, her voice crooning for him to join her on an impromptu adventure as an attempt to make him socialize more. He rarely willingly tortured himself with the memories, but on a night like this, with too much scotch in his system and the living room’s burnt-out lamp bulb shrouding him in partial darkness, he settled into his seat and closed his eyes, expecting his mind to conjure up the image of the woman he had once loved and chose to lose.

He saw his fingers running through her long dark locks that stretched far beneath her shoulders, framing her face in gentle, inky waves that shone impossibly beneath the night sky.

Her eyes, framed by dark lashes, dark brown irises shockingly bright and intent on his face.

Her cheek pressing into his palm, eyes fluttering closed as she leaned into it further, as if his touch soothed.

A silver-blue gown’s skirt twirling around her legs as they danced.

A different ethereal silver-blue gown rendered diaphanous by the rainfall.

Her angular face, flushed from breathless kisses, illuminated by the bright colours of the fireworks display.

Her voice was a whisper that reverberated within his skull, words overlapping with different emotions.

“Hunt?”

“Please, Thomas . . .”

“My feelings for you are not fake.”

His eyes shot open.

No.

No, no, no.

What did Yvonne look like?

What did she sound like?

What was her last name again?

Does it matter anymore?

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Production Progress Journal Entry 4:

A wise man once told me that another wise man said, “The enemy of art is the absence of limitations.”

(Orson Welles, in case I have to give credit. This is a school thing, right? Do I need to put this in MLA/APA/whatever?)

The things I associate with darkness, particularly being along in darkness, are my limitations. They make me feel sick to my stomach, bring tears that burn in my eyes until they fall, and make me want to avoid any and all scenarios in which I’d have to face them.

I’ve fueled performances with my emotions before. I’ve used heartbreak to write a best-selling song and anger to light up a performance about a vengeance-seeking cowgirl. Certainly, I could do it again with this emotion, this sadness and pain.

And I did.

The pile of bones scene was terrifying, especially with the headlamp flickering on and off. But I knew I wasn’t alone, that despite the setting we were filming in, I was safe and seen. I was still scared, but I knew my character would be, too. I’d spoken to Penn Cattrall before filming the scene, and he’d told me that the pain I felt, if translated as well as Oliver’s claustrophobia was to his performance, made the struggles of my character real. He’s rewritten Oliver’s character to be claustrophobic, and he’s going to work on mine so that I can work through my fears.

In half an hour (I’m on break with Oliver right now; enjoying a panini from a nearby café) I’ll be filming a scene with Oliver in another area of the catacombs, a microscopic chamber with a hole in the wall. We’re both terrified. And we’re both excited to try.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Author’s Note:

Hi, friends. It’s been a while, I know. “Real life” got a lot busier than I expected.

But anyway, just wondering if it’s worth it to keep posting the chapters of this story on Tumblr. I’m already posting it on AO3 as it is, and to be quite frank, there’s really no engagement here so I’m not sure if I’m just clogging the tags.

Please let me know what you think :)

[errthel]

Blæc Ciest ~ Chapter One

Hello and hello to all! This is the first chapter of this series that I have constructed in my dead ass brain, so I hope you enjoy this one. :)

warnings ~ some cursing, infidelity rumors

Jewels that shine like forbidden poison, that twinkles like the souls of envious women, that glows like the toxicity of the surroundings. 

His favorite color was the lime green of his kingdom. A color he tenderly adorned upon his beloved and children. It was the color of his irises, of the jewels of his beloved, of the irises of his firstborn. But his second born looked terrible in green, even if he was basically a copy of his mother.

Malleus always wondered, had Louis not inherited the appearance of his beloved, who would he resemble? No answer came to mind to the fae, he seemed to fear that Louis was a product of his wife's rumored infidelity. He feared that he truly lost all of his chances to woo the woman who stole his heart. 

So he further locked her up. 

No one other than him and a chosen few were allowed to meet with her in her isolated room far inside the darkness of the castle. The chosen few were Malleus's close advisers and guards, and Caspian, the Crown Prince and first born of The Kingdom of Thorns. 

Louis, the second born, had not been given the privilege of meeting his mother when he was a baby, only being handed to a governess to care for him. It would only be until he was three years old that he first met his mother.

~

I was woken up by the annoying rocking of my hammock and by the heat of the morning sun peaking through my tiny wooden window. I took a deep breath and the smell of the salty breeze of the ocean immediately hit my nose. My eyes adjusted to my small morning-lit wooden room of the boat.

It was rather small, like a cell back in the castle, but it was comfortable enough to use for the time being. The room was barren except for a small wooden table and a wooden stool, which toppled over overnight. My clothes and belongings were in a large trunk in the corner of the rooms, guarded by hexes and curses for anyone with thieving hands.

I carefully got out of the hammock, careful not to topple over in a particular strong sway. I think I heard my neighbor crash down from their hammock as I heard a juicy curse from the next room over. I attentively walked up to my trunk of belongings and opened it with relative ease.

I hummed a small tune as I changed my clothing. The smell of sweat penetrated my nose as I changed clothes. When I get to The Land of The Hot Sands, I should really hit the baths. 

It wasn't the first time I visited this region of Twisted Wonderland. It is the base of operations of someone I'm chasing around the world, but every time I get there, he has already left for The Isle of Lamentation or whatever. But this time, I'm sure of it, he's there, and he's there to stay. 

He is the name I've given to a man I saw in my distant past. A past where my heavily guarded mother was able to meet with this particular man, who should have set every trap Malleus put up into motion. This man bypassed at least three magic barriers and the multitude of guards guarding my mothers room.

I only saw him through the crack of the open door when I was young. I was probably eight at least. I'm also sure I was running from the loud cabbage guard as he found out I skipped my swordsmanship lesson with the sleepy one. But I think that after seeing that man, the day just melded with each other. Making it impossible for me to remember what I was even doing that day.

He had stark white hair and pale skin, with eyes the color of rubies. He dressed differently from what I remember. Instead of the ornately decorated chaste clothing of fae nobility, he seemed to wear the revealing and exotic clothing of, what I now know as, The Land of The Hot Sands. 

I immediately was intrigued by the man when I first saw him. He exuded power in his graceful movements as he waved his hand ever so slightly when he talked. He was gracefully yet lazily sitting on the couch as he conversed with my mother, whose back was facing towards me.

I remember being so enchanted by him that I forgot I was running from the cabbage boy. I'm sure that I was given a harsh punishment, but I don't care anymore.

I listened to the heavy footsteps that start to arise from the awakened ship dwellers. The shouts and commands of the ship crew and their captain further wakes me up. 

Finally after lacing up and wearing my boots, I ventured out of my room. The light swaying of the boat was something I was already used to and I chuckle seeing newbies still trying to walk straight on the ship despite it being a month long voyage.

Heading to the empty kitchen, I snag three apples and get going up the deck. 

Now if my memory serves me correctly, this is where those ones usually dwell. I walk up the wooden steps up to the deck and rest myself on the closest railing. 

"Ah… there it is…" 

My eyes trailed over a rock in that shape of a large spike and I started to whistle out a tune that was sure to tousle their ears. As soon as I whistled for some time, the water right below me started to ripple, as if something was there. And something was there.

"Oya~ if it isn't Lou-channn." a friend's teasing voice was heard from below as a few fins started to peak up the surface of the water

"Yo, Rio, Kei. Theo's not with you?" I say whilst looking directly at the water

"Unfortunately, he hasn't yet come back for the holidays. He will be coming later in the afternoon though." Kei said, his head fully out of the waters

Kei as well as Rio were moray eels, twins as well. I met them a few years ago when I first boarded a ship. 

I was seasick and young back then, so I would just spend everyday propped up against the railing and ready to barf at a moment's notice. I was about to, but I heard someone's stringy voice call out.

"Oi! Don't you dare vomit into the ocean!" 

"Mhm, Rio is correct, you shouldn't vomit into the ocean, land dweller."

I looked out from the railings to see two blue skinned beings as well as a blubbery hunk of moving tentacles just chilling on a spike like rock and I was questioning my existence right this time.

Irked by this I said, "Fuck off!"

It was a jubilant day indeed.

"I see, well, have these, hand over the other one to Theo when he comes back m'kay." I said throwing the apples to the ocean 

"Ohhhoooo, these are like the apples you brought last time." Rio said holding up the apple like it was a blessing from God

"Mhm, these ones certainly are delicious." Kei said smelling one of the apples 

"Yeah, they're from that apple village in the Land of Pyroxene." 

"I see. Also, Louis, how are you up there?" Kei said looking straight up to my eyes

His eyes that looked rather milky stared straight into my own eyes. They bore into my eyes as if asking for a silent confirmation that I was okay.

I only gave him a small smile as I stood up and walked off.