#Charlie can beat the shit out of you if her patience runs out

[qdkdraws]

These five sinners wanted to have some fun at the expense of an innocent animal, but they got the wrong animal.

#As I said earlier #Charlie can beat the shit out of you if her patience runs out #even in cat form #Alastor really appreciates the contrast between her pretty appearance and actual strength #he also likes to squeeze her #cursed cat charlie #keydidraws #hazbin hotel #charlastor #radiobelle

[jacksdinonuggets]

~Big Bro~

Summary: vaggie goes into a meltdown at a party but angel saves her and lets her regress.

Note: two fics in one day??!? not really, I wrote the last on last night and just scheduled it for the morning. anyways, this one isn't much of a minific since its like 800 words.

After the battle between heaven and hell, a new hotel was built. Charlie immediately wanted to throw a party because they needed to celebrate victory. The new hotel was also very big and even had a room specifically for parties! Charlie planned on using it for graduation parties when someone gets redeemed. But why not do it now?

Vaggie was pretty excited about it. She hadn't been to a party in a long time. However, what Charlie forgot to say was that she was inviting everyone who helped out. That meant not only almost all of cannibal town was there but also Carmilla and her daughters. It was basically like seeing your teacher in public.

During the party, Vaggie was starting to feel overwhelmed, angry, socially tired, and irritated. She had done so much talking and just really wanted to run in her room and hide from everyone.

She was really uncomfortable during the whole thing because people kept bumping into her, trying to talk to her about the whole angel business, and her clothes started to cling to her because she was sweating from feeling overwhelmed.

Charlie wanted her to actually interact with people for a bit so she couldn't leave yet without disappointing her. And she would not disappoint her girlfriend.

So she suffered through it. However, her patience and strength was tested when the dj turned the music up. She could feel her ear drums beating with every second. Her body kept telling her there was danger nearby, even though she knew she was safe. 

As more time passed, the harder it was to breathe. She gasped for air, trying to suck in any oxygen she could get. Her body started moving before she could even realize what was happening. She crashed into the corner of the room, trying to find some sort of safe area. She covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. When would it stop? It was painful!

She felt something touch her shoulder and shrieked for a second before they quickly retrieved their hand. She looked up and saw Angel, squatting down, looking at her with concern.

Just having someone in front of her, staring at her, made the dam break. Tears poured out of her eyes and she let out a pathetic sob. 

“Shit! It's okay, Vags, can ya speak?” Angel’s voice was muffled behind her covered ears, but she understood what he said. She shook her head, dreading the idea of using her voice. 

“That's fine, but I'm gonna have ta touch ya, is that okay?” He asked. Vaggie didn't really want to but she nodded. He swiftly picked her up and cradled her to his chest as he carried her out of the room. She didn't dare look at where they were going.

Soon enough, she found herself being set down on a soft carpet and a pair of headphones being put on her. She looked around and saw that she was in the little room. She gave a confused, pouty, look.

“I saw you was hav’n a meltdown there. Figured you could use some little time to calm down,” He answered to her confused look. He got out her stuffed bear to which she made grabby hands for, regressing almost immediately. It took a lot out of her and she needed some time to feel small.

“Here ya go, Kiddo,” he handed her the teddy. She sniffled, her sinuses being weird from all the crying.

He knew coloring was a very relaxing activity and figured that she needed something calming. So he got out a few coloring books and crayons and one of those plastic tray desk thingies, and put them on the ground. Once vaggie got into a comfortable position with a heating pad and pillows against her back (Her back pain gets worse when she has meltdowns or panic attacks, even when she has wings), she set the tray table over her lap and began to color with her teddy bear in her lap.

He got out some milk from the minifridge and poured it into a trainer sippy (the ones with handles) and warmed it up in the microwave before giving it to her too. He hadn’t seen her eat much at the party and was a bit concerned she wasn’t getting all of her nutrients. Hopefully the warm milk would make it better.

Angel helped her when she couldn’t figure out what color to use, or when she wanted to play with something else. He tried his best to keep his cursing to a low but everyone knows that’s not gonna happen. He never said any sexual things though, not wanting to traumatize the already traumatized girl more. Overall, he was a pretty good caregiver. He played with her and got her things when she needed them. It was safe to say he was now on her emergency babysitter list.

#sfw agere #age regression #agere writing #safe agere #agere fanfic #hazbin hotel agere #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel vaggie #autistic agere #autistic vaggie #caregiver angel #little!vaggie

[slyttherins]

Supernova | Bill Weasley x Nova Lestrange

Summary: Bill Weasley gets his first kiss

Pairing: Bill Weasley x OC Nova Lestrange (Bellatrix's daughter)

Word count: 1250

Square filled: First kiss

-

When Bill was starting his second year at Hogwarts, his eyes fell on a girl with dark, curly hair. She must've been a First Year since her robes had no house logo on them.

Nova Lestrange, McGonagall had called her. Bill had heard that name before - Lestrange. It had been in the newspaper a year ago.

During the sorting ceremony, the redhead watched her go and sit under the sorting hat, secretly praying she'd be in Gryffindor.

She got Slytherin.

Three years passed and, despite Nova's reputation, Bill couldn't tear his eyes from her. She fascinated him. She was strong headed and confident, didn't take shit from anyone and never hesitated to hex someone who spoke wrong about her or her family. Maybe it was why people were intimidated by her?

She definitely wasn't the type of girl his mother would want him to bring home for the holidays, but that didn't stop the Weasley boy from longing after her.

Nova's mad laugh echoed in the hallway as Bill and her ran away, escaping from Filch.

The two had set an alarm and emerged from their respective common rooms well after curfew to meet in a hallway, planning to sneak out to the astronomy tower to watch the meteor shower. Professor Sinistra had mentioned it in class earlier this week and Nova really wanted to see it. According to the professor, the best time to see it was between moonset and dawn, which was why they were up at this hour.

''I can't believe you jinxed Filch with a jelly-legs curse,'' Bill laughed, the image of the caretaker stumbling because of the curse forever engraved in his mind.

Nova would undoubtedly get in trouble for jinxing a staff member, but she couldn't care less.

''Get used to it, Weasley. Crazy runs in my blood.''

Once they made it to the top of the astronomy tower, Bill pushed open the squeaky door. A few blankets and cushions were set up on the ground, neatly and previously placed by Nova, to keep them warm and comfortable for the spectacle.

''Do you think it has started already?'' she asked, sitting down on the blanket. It was spring, but the nights were still cold.

They were both still in their pajamas, looking like polar opposites next to each other; Nova in a Slytherin night-robe over a silk two piece and Bill in striped bottoms and a Molly-made sweater.

Bill shook his head and joined her, grabbing another blanket to cover their legs. ''It shouldn't have. According to Professor Sinistra, we should see the first shooting star around two-thirty.''

A brisk of wind blew through the astronomy tower and, without thinking, Bill reached out to tuck a piece of hair away from Nova's face.

She turned her attention to him, frowning. ''What is it? Is there something in my hair?'' She ran a hand through her dark curls, attempting to get whatever was on it out.

Bill shook his head. ''No.''

He looked down at his hands quickly and then back to her. A full head of dark messy curls framed her face, a stark contrast with her milky skin. Her dark eyes were surrounded by long lashes. She was the painted picture of her mother - only, her features were softer. Her nose was different too, more upturned.

A fragment of meteor came through the starry sky at lightning speed and Nova's eyes brightened in amazement. ''Did you catch that?''

Nova's voice broke him out of his staring.

''Eh, no...'' Bill replied sheepishly.

Nova pulled her eyebrows. ''It flew right before us. How can you have missed it?'' she asked. ''Need glasses, Weasley?'' Before Bill could say anything, she tapped his leg to get his attention. ''There's another one coming. Look!''

This time, he did catch it. A small ball of bright, white light flew across the sky, so fast it trailed light behind it. A smile broke across the redhead's lips.

''Wow. This is so much better that during Astronomy lessons.'' Bill wasn't an astronomy nerd, but he couldn't deny how cool shooting stars were despite being a small fragment of a big rock.

''That's because they are simulations,'' Nova explained. ''I don't think Professor Sinistra has the patience to spend a night with a whole class to teach astronomy. Can you imagine?''

''Next time, we should watch it by the Black Lake.''

''Ohh, good idea!''

''How will we sneak out of the castle though? The doors are locked at night.''

''I guess we'll have to stay out all night.''

''We could hide in the forbidden forest? It isn't as scary as people make it. I've been a thousand times with my brother Charlie. There centaurs and acromantulas and trolls, but they won't bother you if you don't cause trouble.''

The forest was strictly off limits to students - except for detentions or Care of Magical Creatures lessons -, but that didn't stop the Weasley boys to venture in. In third year, Charlie tried to sneak in a bowtruckle in his dorm, but McGonagall caught the green creature peeking from his robe's pocket and gave him detention.

''I'll hold your hand if you're scared,'' Bill teased and Nova shoved him.

Like most, Nova had first struck him as the good kid with good grades, the type who never disobeyed or broke rules. After all, he was top mark in a lot of classes. Turned out Bill was not the person she had taken him to be. The elder of the Weasley clan loved adventures, danger and...mischief.

Time flew by as more shooting stars crossed the sky. It was now almost time to part ways and go back to their dorm, but Bill didn't want this moment to end. He had plans for tonight, other than watching the meteor shower. One plan.

Kissing Nova.

He had tried to kiss her on many occasions before, but always got cold feet - for a Gryffindor, he wasn’t courageous in the girl department. Or, something would come up and interrupt.

The last time, they had been in the courtyard when a bludger went over their head at full speed, coming from the quidditch pitch where Gryffindor were having a practice. After practice, Charlie had apologized on their team's behalf for ruining the moment, but Bill was still mad at his brother for that - even though he wasn't the one who swung the bludger.

Bill's eyes shifted from Nova to the sky, telling himself that he'll take his chance and make a move when the next shooting star would pass, but he realized that the setting was a bit too romantic for his liking. Having his first kiss under the stars, who was he? The main character from those muggle movies?

But, again, Nova had been the one to come up with the idea of watching the meteor shower, not him.

''Nova?'' His voice was soft, but still echoed through the astronomy tower.

The raven haired girl turned in Bill’s direction. Her cheeks were rosey from the night air and Bill could feel his heart beat fast in his chest. She was so close, yet too far.

Using all the courage he had, Bill cupped her face with one of his hands and leaned in, his lips hovering over Nova's, but stopped before they could kiss, getting cold feet.

''Are you gonna kiss me, Weasley, or do I have to do it myself?'' Nova spoke between them.

Bill laughed softly, embarrassed, and did as told.

#bill weasley #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley prompt #bill weasley fic

[moldisgoodforyou]

the 5 times jj fake proposed and the 1 time he did for real

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex

wordcount: 2.4k

_

the first time he fake-proposed, he was drunk. when he was drunk, jj felt like he needed to proclaim his feelings to the world. he was ultra-touchy with charlie and liked whispering sweet nothings in her ear, and then liked bragging about her to his friends just as much. they were at beta’s spring formal and they were both at the level of drunkenness (after way too many glasses of champagne) where everything was funny. 

“I’m gonna marry you, charlie.” he promised, catching her lips in a sweet kiss. she laughed, pushing his shoulder. “you’re drunk, silly.” he dropped to one knee in the middle of the dance floor, wearing a goofy grin. “charlie walker, will you marry me?” she rolled her eyes and hauled him up by the arms before too many people could notice. “eventually.” he laughed and grabbed a slim napkin ring from the formal dinner table, slipping it on her finger. it was way too big and fell off almost right away, but she stuck it in her purse anyway. 

the second time, jj had just won his intramural football championship (thanks to charlie’s coaching) and they were celebrating at the bar afterward. he was running high on emotions, had a streak of dirt on his face from a tackle and was a little bruised, but was having the time of his life. on his third trip back from the bar, he found a little silver ring on the ground and pocketed it. his arm was slung around charlie’s shoulders all night, and after the second round of playing thunderstruck, he felt compelled to propose. again.  

“charlie, you know I love you, right?” she reached up and swiped her thumb across his cheek, grinning. “of course I do.” he got down on his knee and fished out the ring from his pocket, smirking up at her. the cocky smile was enough to tell her he wasn’t serious. “maybank -” she warned, but he shook his head to cut her off. “listen, listen! I want to spend the rest of my life with you -” one of his brothers nudged him, wary. “dude, are you really gonna propose like this?” 

charlie laughed, crossing her arms as jj shoved him away. “let me finish, let me finish! will you marry me, charlie?” charlie just sent him an amused smile, shaking her head. jj stood quickly and grabbed her around the waist, swinging her around. “she said yes!” he yelled out, pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek. she giggled as he slid the ring onto her thumb (the only finger that would fit). “I didn’t say anything!” he nudged his nose against hers, grinning. “shh, pretty girl, do you want free drinks or not?” 

“I hate you.” she responded with a smile, blushing. 

he nipped his teeth at her bottom lip. “come on, don’t talk like that to your fiancé.” 

“oh my god.” 

_

the third time, the two of them were surfing back in the outer banks. they were teasing each other all day, doing stupid shit like dropping in on each other’s wave and yelling flirty things when the other was riding a wave to catch them off balance. (jj even went as far to tackle charlie off her board in the still waters - just for fun.) after a few hours of surfing, they both laid on their backs on their boards out past the waves, arms draped over their eyes to shield them from the sun. 

jj reached out and took her hand, floating her closer. “did you know otters hold hands when they sleep, so they don’t float away from each other?” 

“really? that’s cute.” charlie mused with her eyes shut, about to fall asleep from the rocking of the waves. 

“it’s adorable.” jj agreed. he pulled a piece of kelp from the water and stashed it in the pocket of his board shorts. “would you get married now?” charlie was way too used to his casual talk about the future by now, and didn’t even open her eyes. she squeezed his hand and smirked to herself. “depends, who’s asking?” 

jj didn’t waste a beat to launch himself onto her board, promptly sinking the two of them. “charlie walker!” 

she yelped, sputtering a little as she surfaced. “what was that for?!” 

he splashed a little water toward her. “you know what that was for!” 

she laughed, ducking away. “I couldn’t resist." 

he rested his arms on her board as they treaded water and pulled the string of kelp out from his pocket. “I’m asking. would you marry me?” she eyed the kelp skeptically, then shot the look at him. “j. if that’s your idea of a proposal, you need to do better.” the tips of his ears turned red and he tossed it aside, putting on a smile. “I’m just kidding!” she gave him a short kiss, then nudged him off her board. “come on, one last wave. I’m tired.” 

_

the fourth time, they were on the kiss cam at a south carolina football game. they were visiting for homecoming, one year after graduating, and he had been hinting at getting married more than his usual amount. just the week before, she almost had a heart attack when she found a small velvet box in his drawer, then realized it was just a pair of cufflinks she had given him before. 

she wasn’t sure why she was so nervous about the idea of a proposal, exactly - she loved jj with her whole heart and couldn’t picture herself with anyone else, but the idea of such a big commitment was just...scary. 

the kiss cam panned over toward them and she laughed before leaning over to catch his lips with hers - but he pulled away, getting on one knee. charlie stopped breathing. “jj.” 

he grinned. 

the stadium was dead silent.

charlie looked like she wanted to cry. 

jj nudged her quickly, realizing he fucked up, and mouthed free drinks at her. she exhaled and nodded with a tiny smile and he got up quickly, hugging her tight so she didn’t break down and cry in front of the entire south carolina fanbase. the stadium erupted in cheers and the camera panned away as the game resumed. 

he held her close for a long beat, wincing as she dug her nails into his arm. “I’m going to fucking kill you.” charlie murmured into his ear. he laughed weakly. “too far, huh?” she pulled away from the hug and pressed her hand over her heart, eyes bright and a little teary. he ran his hand through his hair, grimacing. “love you?” he tried. 

she sat and pulled him down to sit with her, resting her head on his shoulder. “you need to knock it off.” he turned and kissed the top of her head, genuinely feeling bad. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, it was stupid.” 

she pulled out her phone and showed him the numerous texts constantly lighting up her screen - especially the ones from her mom and dad. he gulped and charlie had to admit she felt a little satisfaction at him being uncomfortable too. “yeah, have fun explaining that one to my parents.” 

jj had never been more thankful for a fluke south carolina win that day - he was pretty sure that was the only thing that got him out of the doghouse that weekend. 

_

the fifth time, jj and charlie had just returned from a wine tasting tour on their anniversary and the sixth glass of rosé went straight to jj’s head. they were both handsy in the uber on the way home and barely made it through the doorway of their apartment before jj managed to pull charlie’s halter top off. he picked her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist. “can we at least make it to the bedroom?” she giggled as he peppered kisses all over her face. 

he bit her bottom lip playfully and set her on the kitchen counter. “you’re lucky I didn’t take you right then and there at the last winery.” 

“j.” she protested, running her hands through his hair. “bed.”

“patience, pretty girl.” he pulled back slightly to yank his shirt over his head and toss it aside, then resumed kissing her, hard. he trailed a hand up her side, brushing his thumb over her nipple and loving the way she arched her back into his touch. “fuck, j, come on.” she whined, tugging at the waistline of his pants. he swatted at her hand and picked her up again, nipping at her neck as he walked them into the bedroom. 

afterward, he kissed her sweetly, pulling the sheet up over her chest. “happy anniversary, j.” she told him with a smile. 

“I love you so damn much,” he replied with a grin.  

jj rolled over and rummaged around the nightstand for a second, pulling out a black velvet box. charlie shook her head immediately, reaching over and grabbing his wrist. “jj, no.” he paused, glancing at her with a confused expression. “I’m not joking this time -” she shook her head again. “jj, please, not now.” she pleaded. "but I -” she kissed him quickly to shut him up and took the box from him, her heart racing. 

“please.” 

he sighed, resigned, and took the box back to shove it back in the nightstand. “it’s never gonna happen at this rate.” charlie frowned and kissed him soundly. “no, j, just...not like this. I’m ready. but not like this.” that was enough to turn his mood around. “you’re ready? you’re sure?” she smiled a little and nodded. “yes. I promise.” 

_

the last time, they were at their favorite lookout spot in berkeley. they had shared a lot of big moments there (a job promotion, a raise, their first real discussion about future children) and he knew he had one chance to get the moment perfect - since he had fucked up the first five times. he did everything right - called her parents in advance (less for her dad’s blessing, more for the courtesy), told grace beforehand, and had scheduled a photographer to wait in the bushes for the exact moment. 

he was acting strange all day, to the point that charlie thought he was even a little bit mad at her for something she did. 

she should have caught on, given that he got her a gift card to get her nails done a week ago - and her nails were hardly ever polished. but she appreciated the random gesture and got them done anyway, kind of loving the look. she should have caught on when he told her to wear his favorite dress (“you know, the one with the little blue flowers”) for a picnic up on the hill. 

lucky for jj, she was pretty much clueless and went along with it when he pulled on a short-sleeved button down and dress pants, saying he needed to ‘break them in’ - weird, but whatever. 

he slipped the ring in his pocket without the box, afraid the outline would tip her off. as they drove up to their spot with a cooler he packed in the back, he tapped his thumb on the wheel anxiously. “rough day at work, hon?” charlie asked sympathetically. he shook his head. “nah, just...jittery. dunno, must have drank coffee too late at work or something.” she nodded and reached over, squeezing his thigh reassuringly. he flinched away, scared she was going to feel the ring and she furrowed her brow. “jj, what’s up?” 

he laughed, a little high-pitched. “nothing! nothing, just the coffee.” he lied, horribly. “...right.” she replied, dubious. he pulled up to the lookout and grabbed the cooler and blanket from the backseat, stashing the champagne under the car seat before she could see. as they laid out the picnic items, his hands were shaking like hell. charlie took his hands in hers and stepped close, kissing him softly. “you sure it was just the coffee, jj?” 

he took a deep breath, looking around at their surroundings to make sure everything was in order. “sorry, just - I think I forgot something in the car, I’ll be back.” he left her standing there, confused and jogged back to the car. he checked over his pockets for the twelfth time that day, making sure he had the ring, then walked back. she had walked further out to the lookout, a few steps away from the blanket, and he decided to make his move. 

jj walked up behind her then dropped down to one knee, pulling the ring out of his pocket. “charlie -” he started, shaky, and she turned around and immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. “oh my god.” 

“charlie walker, I -” 

“you’re not joking, are you? please don’t say you’re joking.” tears were already welling up in her eyes and he grinned. “will you let me finish?” 

she nodded, smiling ear-to-ear, a hand still pressed to her lips. 

“charlie walker, the last three years loving you have been the best three years of my life and I can’t picture spending the rest of it with anyone but you.” he paused, blinking away what he swore wasn’t tears. “will you marry me?” 

she practically tackled him to the ground in a hug, meeting his lips in a heated kiss. 

he pulled back, laughing. “wait, wait, is that a yes?” 

she nodded, grinning. “yes, god yes!” 

he beamed, shifting her to his lap. “wait, you haven’t even seen the ring!” she laughed, kissing him again. “I don’t even care.” he took her hand and slid the ring on her finger, carefully. she gasped when she saw it, tears welling up again. “oh my god, j, it’s perfect.” he grinned. “yeah? I had a little help from your friends.” 

she admired the ring, then gasped as she realized. “is this my grandmother’s?” he nodded with a proud smile. “she wanted you to have it, since you’re the only granddaughter. I got tipped off that you’d always loved it.” charlie’s bottom lip quivered and he laughed, pulling her into a kiss. “stop crying! this is supposed to be happy!” 

she laughed. “I know, I know! I just...it’s all so perfect, jj. god, I love you.” 

he grinned. “now you’re stuck with me forever, sweetheart.” 

charlie beamed. “I can’t fucking wait.” 

#jj maybank imagine #jj x charlie #mine #jj maybank #jj maybank obx #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank fanfic #idk about the last one

[jlf23tumble]

Top 10 Niche Interests

Fixations? Obsessions? This is incredibly hard because I have wayyyy too many niche interests, so instead of stressing about it, I tried to channel the 10 things that immediately speak to me and maybe aren't so obvious from what I post here, like how much I'm obsessed with wigs, doll furniture, incredibly specific blogs, all forms of clothing with pockets, swimming pools, whimsical bus stops, over-the-top bathrooms, etc. etc Instead, I opted for some specifics that feel a little more evergreen and long tailed, like, so LIFE-long tailed that it's tough to nail down when or how they became part of the national psyche. I thank @alienfuckeronmain​ for the initial tag, and I'm tagging her AGAIN for round two because I know she has a billion additional niche things, and she'll post them, and I'll scream because it'll trigger five other things I neglected to post here, and I'll probably post my own round two, arggggh, insert aggressive sighing. Anyway, I tag ANYONE who wants to do it, just tag me so I can see! 

1. Indoor Trees

I have no idea why this concept PULLS so hard because houseplants are kind of meh to me, but you want to plant an entire-ass TREE indoors, in the place where you live? Me, too, and I'd add a conversation pit plus a combo gold/red bathroom, among other things, and, bam, we're in my imaginary dream home, which I have literally, constantly ALWAYS mentally constructed from the time I was about six or so. (If you're curious, it has multiple themed rooms, and the closest I've seen to it recently is the outstanding Dita von Teese AD feature, but Amy Sedaris’s apartment comes close, too). There are two (2) 1960s houses in Long Beach with magnificent indoor trees, but I can't find them online, so have this modern interpretation and cry with me about how I can't visit the multi-story fake tree inside Clifton's Cafeteria for a good long while:

2. Conventions of Fans of Any Kind

One thing that I don't think I'll ever lose is how much I *love* people who are fans of SOMETHING, people who have a passion and create something about it or cosplay it or simply gather to celebrate it and connect to other people through it. The Internet provides in all kinds of ways, but I'm talking specifically about IRL conventions and the way my heart pitter pats when I first walk in those doors, SWOON! And it doesn’t matter how big the convention is or how random, I've been to smaller events like CatCon and the My Little Pony convention all the way up to biggies like WonderCon and Comic Con, and I have yet to be disappointed. I might know jack shit about what I'm walking into, but I want to see the merch, hear about the panels, and check out the people who are fucking PUMPED to be there. Sadly, I think it's gonna be a lonnnnng time until these come back, but I can live vicariously through my old photos, sigh:

3. Dutch Wax Fabrics and African Fashion

I'm not the snazziest of dressers, but textiles, colors, and patterns have been an obsession that has soothed my visual soul for as long as I can literally remember. Wax fabric marries all three of those touchpoints, plus throws in a healthy dose of style, and I count myself lucky to have seen two big exhibits on the subject (this was one of them), oh, how I wish there were more! For sure, there's a fucked up underlying colonial/imperialist history here, but there's also humor and color and vibrancy, a reclamation of sorts, and multiple levels of fashion that take my breath away. I cannot do the different patterns justice at all, but the fan motif is one of my faves:

4. Hearst Castle vs. Madonna inn

These two fall into my #home tag because they're where I'm from, and they speak to me as equally sublime and ridiculous, camp and kitsch writ large and small, different (yet similar!) versions of Xanadu that two rich white men built as shrines to their own personal "taste." And the irony is that a lot of people shit on Alex Madonna for being tacky (the Madonna Inn is...uh, something else), yet praise WR Hearst for all the high-class art and architecture, most of which is fully lifted from desperate churches between and after world and yet they're both more or less the same concept (lodging for weary travelers, self-aggrandizement, questionable taste-mixing). Hearst Castle edges out slightly for me because it's bigger and has spectacular scenery and history, plus it gives me doses of LA noir thanks to the way Hearst killed a guy in a jealous Charlie Chaplin-related rage and Hedda Hopper covered it up, all kinds of old Hollywood shenanigans happened up there, etc. But I'm low-key an expert on both houses of the holy, I'm OBSESSED with both, and we can leave it at that. I mean, come on:

5. Snow Globes

I had to cull my personal collection slightly just to fit it all on the dedicated shelf in my bathroom, and I seriously need to refill all the water lines, but nothing beats a snow globe in terms of memorable souvenir, especially when you put it in a bathroom. The majesty!!! The jewel of my collection is the one from Sherwood Forest because WHY NOT celebrate a historic place and moment in the basic way?? He robbed from the rich to give to the poor, and the gift shop about 100 feet from the tree he hid in does the same! The circle of life! The irony of all the watermarks on this blessed image...protect:

6. Highly Specific Museums

Look, we can all agree that the more venerated museums in the world are a form of garbage in terms of what they represent, what they've done, and who runs them, but I'm here for the museums that collect and celebrate things that tend to get overlooked. There are too many to list that I love that are still thriving, so I'm going to say goodbye to four recently departed faves. RIP to the Pez museum, I'm so glad I saw you and purchased your stale candy souvenirs. RIP to the museum of terrible food, you were a pop up when Phoenix and I saw you, and I will forever think about the worker describing people literally vomiting during their visits. RIP to the currywurst museum in Berlin, I've had currywurst exactly once and it was not for me, but I respect the Journey you took me on, including obscure east German TV shows that helped make you so popular (??). Finally, RIP to the velvet painting museum, there's no way to mince words, the person who owned you was crazy AS FUCK and had zero clue how to run a business, but I'm so glad I saw you multiple times and purchased my own velvet treasure (not this exact one, but remarkably similar):

7. Liminal Spaces: Grocery Store Edition

Confession time for those who don't know me all that well, I'm a big time voyeur, and nothing fills my heart with joy like a walk at 7 or 8 pm, the witching hour when people haven't pulled the curtains, and I can scope out their decorations/furnishings without it being "weird." Another confession is how much I unabashedly adore grocery stores in other countries and will spend at least an hour wandering aisle by aisle, falling in love with how much everything is different yet completely the same:

8. Agatha Christie Novels:

As a child, I was a fairly compliant reader--I had to read something for school? Okay! For my mom? Sounds good! But the books that sparked the initial fire for me to read something purely for myself were second-hand (probably fourth- or fifth-hand, judging by cover art) Agatha Christie short story anthologies, which were the gateway drug to full Agatha Christie novels, then other mystery novels, and so on. But getting back to Agatha, I obviously loved all the stories, but every decade spawned incredibly good cover art (like, exceptionally good), and this particular artist's are right up near the top for me (I go back and forth on a lot of the '50s and '60s ones):

9. Scopitones

I link my obsession with scopitones both to my love of music videos in general and a shop in Austin, TX, that sold DVD compilations of them in particular, but either way, they're underappreciated and kitschy all in one! Francoise Hardy and the rest of the ye-ye's are my forever girls for this medium, but seemingly every country cranked them out, both actual set videos and "live" performances? If you don't know what they are, scopitones were machines that played music videos in French cafes in the '60s (??), so it was sort of your proto-MTV way to see your faves sing and dance. Oh, Francoise...so moderne!!

10. Cover Songs

I have so much patience and love for cover songs of any stripe, the more genre-bending and/or surprising, the better! My only minor beef is the trend in slooooooooowing down songs to make a point, but even those ones have a special place in my heart if they're effective. Live Lounge feeds my hunger the best, but my meta fave for representing this concept is Pulp's Bad Cover Version, which was already lyrically INSPIRED, a song about bad cover versions in terms of relationships, but then they did a video that was a visual "bad" cover version, with actors lip synching over an audio "bad" cover version, and all of it just worked? The cover for the single is someone in the band as a boy, making his own bad cover version of a Bowie album cover, it's meta meta meta, and I love love love, here's the video, if you're curious. In the more sublime cover category, I'm absolutely addicted to all of Orville Peck's covers, I truly hope he officially releases them sometime soon, but I wholeheartedly support any artist who does it:

#tag games #niche interests #god i have a few

[searlaitflanagan]

you’re on my mind all of the time → solo.

TAGGING — Charlie Flanagan & Cole McLean ( NPC ). LOCATION — Manhattan, New York.  DATE & TIME — 11 April 2021, evening. ( Charlie’s time in New York: 11 April - 24 April 2021 ). NOTES — Cole meets Charlie at the airport when she flies home & she begins to realize letting go and forgetting are not the same.    WORD COUNT & TRIGGERS — 1,244, no triggers.

It’s a flight she’s made countless times since her move to Providence Peak -- reflex driving her through almost every step of the process as she tries to embrace the feeling of being able to breathe deeply, moving from one home to one forgotten in a way she’s never planned for and can never come back from. Manhattan is always-- has always-- will always be home but there are bits of her -- bits of Séarlait from Manhattan that aren’t bits of Charlie from Providence Peak and trying to scramble to shove those pieces together in ways that won’t fit in the span of a four hour flight is a fight she’s losing before it even begins.

It’s silly, she thinks -- silly to imagine these different versions of herself as though she hasn’t been the same person the whole way through but the person she is now -- the scared little girl running home for comfort is as much her as the tired grown woman trying to scrape together bits of herself into a better whole and Charlie thinks she might just spend the rest of her life trying to discover where the seams of her being meld together without a fuss.

It’s been nearly a year since she’s been home-- nearly a year since she’s stumbled into her childhood home to warmth and comfort-- to her father’s boisterous bear hugs and her mother’s endless tenderness and her brothers’ collective energy simply for being in her presence.

She exhales all of her anxiety in the steps she takes between leaving the plane and making her way down to baggage claim, expecting her family to be waiting for her after all of the conversations she’s had with them since her last relapse. She pauses at the end of the escalator at the sight of a familiar mop of dark hair, mutters an apology over her shoulder as a smile threatens to split her features and laughs so hard she can’t breathe when Cole catches her like he’s been waiting to do it all afternoon when she all but launches herself into his arms.

“Did you bribe my parents or something?” Charlie asks, another breathless laugh rolling through her while she pushes hair from her face and Cole reaches down to grab her suitcase with one hand and her hand with the other.

“You think I had to bribe them? Your mom had a last minute surgery -- so I figured it was the least I could do, right? I was plannin’ on meeting you at home anyway,” Cole explains, blue eyes bright with equal parts amusement and delight and when Charlie squeezes his hand and watches his smile widen in return she can only be grateful that she has him at her side again. 

They make their way to Cole’s car in a distant parking lot hand-in-hand-- dancing around people crowding the airport terminal and pausing only for a moment when an older woman informs them that they make a ‘very nice couple’. Cole kisses her cheek as they walk away and Charlie feigns a gag while his laughter echoes in the parking garage and it feels very much like coming home to something she’s needed for longer than she knows how to explain. Their conversation ebbs as Cole begins the process that is getting out of JFK and Charlie watches the scenery pass in the front seat after she makes a point to text Harper and let her know she’s made it there in one piece to begin with. She sees Cole flash her another amused smile out of the corner of her eye and her eyebrows rise almost out of reflex before she pouts at him in earnest, “What?”

Cole chuckles, broad shoulders rising in a shrug. “Nothing, dude. How’s your girl?” He asks instead and there’s such an earnest interest in his voice that it makes Charlie’s pout melt away in favor of another crooked smile.

“She’s good,” Charlie says softly, flicking to a page on her phone with only one app because it allows her to see her background-- a picture of Harper she’d taken three weeks ago-- smiling down at it before she realizes what she’s doing and holds up a finger in Cole’s direction as he opens his mouth to speak again. “I miss her already which feels kind of dumb, but... she’s good. We’re good. She’s been--” She pauses, her brows furrowing for a moment. “She’s been a saint during all of my bullshit, honestly. I keep thinking I must’ve dreamed her up at some point but I-- I’m really happy to have her,” She explains softly, shifting in her seat so she can look at the city moving around them rather than focusing on the lump in her throat as she considers just how much she appreciates having Harper in her life.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been this happy about someone else, y’know,” Cole says, the cadence of his voice - the familiar patience enough to make Charlie listen. “I know I don’t have to like, beat you to death with it but I think Katie would be... she’d be proud of you, little bear. For moving on-- tryin’ to take care of yourself. You know that, right?”

Charlie swallows hard, an audible gulp that finds her staring out the window again as she fights the trembling in her chin and the anxious static blooming at the base of her skull. Cole reaches for her before she can say anything-- twines their fingers together and holds her hand tight in his own as she begins to cry and nods in answer to his question, “I know. I’ve never b-been--” 

She swallows again, her throat tight as she reaches up with her free hand to scrub at her tears, “I don’t think I’ve ever been ready to... god, I hate calling it ‘letting her go’. I think about her all the time and I miss her like it just fucking happening but I know I can’t just hang onto all of that. It’s like-- it feels so hard to think of it like anything other than an anchor that’s just dragging me down every second of the day and I don’t think of Katie that way but it’s all of this-- shit-- that I can’t stop carrying around...” Charlie trails off, her hair falling into her eyes as she folds in on herself in the passenger seat. The engagement ring resting against her chest feels like it weighs a ton as she fishes it out, balances it in her free hand and stares at it for a long time before she takes it off and slips it into the pocket of her jeans-- glancing at Cole when they hit another red light and he can turn to look at her properly.

“Can we... would you... can we make something to put the rings in? While I’m here? You’ve always been better at building shit than I have and I wanna make like, I dunno. Something with our picture in it and the rings-- so I can remember her... all of it... without dragging it around anymore. I think... I think that would be okay, right?”

Cole’s eyes are as red-rimmed as hers when their gazes meet and Charlie leans over to press a kiss to his knuckles before the light turns green and Cole clears his throat sharply, “Yeah. Yeah, I think that’d be okay.”

#「 charlie — communications 」 » solo threads. #「 charlie — general 」 » searlait flanagan. #this ended up being more of a character study than anything but i wanted to try and start at least a baby step for charlie #and set up the fact that she's been in nyc for two weeks

[matt-skc-rp]

*Makeup* “It’s Too Cold For This”|| Youniversity Advent Day 27

Matt watched Arin walk into the room and then felt a nudge from Ray by his side. “Bet you my term paper that he’s coming from the nurse’s office” he chided, watching the boy with a gross bruise on his neck and a black eye. 

“Mr. Hanson, glad you could join us,” the teacher said, turning around, “Oh my go-”

“I’m coming from the nurse,” Arin quickly blurted, taking his hair out of the ponytail and letting it flop to his face and blush. 

“You could be coming off of the street and I wouldn’t care. You’re late again and you know that means you have detention.”

“Yea...” he said, but heard a giggle coming from the front, her legs swinging freely.

“Something funny about me reprimanding your colleague, Ms. Howson?” the teacher asked.

“Fuck..what grade do you want?” Matt sucked his teeth lightly, sighing.

“Uhh..passing is fine,” Ray said with a chuckle, biting his lip, “Check out your girlfriend.”

“Ray! Shush...she’s not my girlfriend..” Matt jumped up, but trained his eye towards the girl sitting in her uniform skirt and the short sleeve thin collared shirt with a sweater vest and long coloured balayage hair. She was adorable while she read her book, but she looked uncomfortable, restless. He wondered what the problem was.

“Earth to Matt....Helloooo..”

“Matthew,” the teacher barked, which caused him to jump with pure surprise, “It’s impolite to stare. And even more impolite you’re making Ray disrupt my class because you’re gawking at a girl.”

The class erupts into laughter, causing Matt to roll his eyes.

“Sorry,” he spoke less confidently and leaned back slightly.

“Can we all act like adults and show up for class on time and keep our eyes in respectable places during school hours?..Thank you!” he turns around and continues on his lecture. 

“Thanks Ray,” Matt says.

“I was tryna warn you.”

~

In the boy’s locker room, they changed into their gym uniforms and bantered on. 

“Yo what’s with you staring at the new chick?” Mark asked, spraying on deodorant.

“Her thighs are thicc, I’ve stared at those hams once or twice,” Felix jumped in, closing his locker, “Her and Suzy got some of the thickest thighs in this whole school!”

“Hey man, don’t talk about Suzy like that!” Arin interjected, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. 

“Did yall see what she was reading?” Matt finally chimed in, “She was reading Hemmingway. Before that she was reading cummings. She reads a different book every day. And she hums songs that I know..”

“Wow..you noticed all of those things?” Ray asked, looking at him, “Hopefully you’re as observant when you write my paper this weekend.”

“Your history paper?” Sean asked, “Why does he have to write it?”

“Well why does Arin have a black eye and a noticeable bruise?” Ray asked.

Jeremy gave Arin a look and nudged him, showing that he was quite curious himself.

“You get into a fight?” Mark asked, closing his locker.

“Your parents gave you a shakedown?” Danny asked, handing Thomas his gym shirt.

“No..” Arin answered more annoyed but still very passive.

“Why did Shawna think your injuries were so funny?” Shane asked, “Was she there?”

“Y-Yeah..Hey Felix, I mean it, don’t talk about Suzy like that,” Arin said and repeated himself since he had the floor.

“Uhm..I’m sorry, didn’t she dump you?..Coulda swore you fucked that up!” Felix responded energetically, “And if you must know I mentioned it as a compliment, I wasn’t disrespecting her or objectifying her body.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think she wants to hear that?” he bit back, rage growing in his chest, slamming his locker.

“What makes you think you need to know?” Felix asked, walking up to him, looking down at the boy, “I’ll give you another black eye for breaking her fucking heart.”

“Alright, a fight,” Dan beamed quietly straightening his posture.

Phil, Thomas and Charlie all stood up, approaching the two and pulling them apart, letting them know that it wasn’t worth it. Since Arin was done, they walked him out of the locker room.

“What’s going on here?” PJ asked, walking in the opposite direction, looking to Phil and Thomas, “Who did he fight?”

“He almost got into it with Felix,” Phil said quickly, “Now go, you’re late.”

“Nah, nah, hang on a sec...Where did all of that come from then?” he asked, approaching the heated boy and holdng his face up by his chin. Arin was still fuming and barely cared that the boy he had a huge crush on was touching him.

“Shawna... can I go now?” Arin said quickly.

“Yeah, we can talk about this later, we got like 5 minutes to whistle and I don’t feel like running laps..” Thomas said.

“Shawna? As in my Shawna, Shawna? What did you do?” he asked, taken aback, “What happened?”

“She’s not your Shawna. And she’s fine. I asked for this..”

“I’m not sure you get to make that call,” PJ staring Arin in his eyes and pausing to look him up and down, then walking away, wagging a finger at him while walking back toward the locker room. 

~

“Alright you guys, the gym is getting repainted so we had to open the windows and turn the big fans on. It’s a little chilly, but it’ll be great for the workout today!”

“It’s too cold for this..” Gabbie whined amongst Kristen and Shawna.

“It’s not that cold to me..You should start doing hikes with me on the weekends,” Shawna said, hands on her hips.

“Yeah, sure, Ms. Canada no thanks I hate the cold!” Gabbie said back, “I’ll join you in like late spring or early summer.”

“Arin and I usually join her, but I couldn’t make it yesterday..Did something happen? Why does he look like he got his ass beat?” Kristen asked excitedly.

“Uhh..” Shawna began before hearing the whistle and watching the boys all sprint onto the floor.

“Alright, since everyone needs to get moving and warm a little. How about everyone a nice light 5-minute jog?” he blew the whistle.

Everyone got into the group and started to jog together.

“Hey Shawna!” Tessa exclaimed, catching up to her friend, “Did you see what happened to Arin?”

“Yeah, I did it,” Shawna said quieter, simply looking forward.

“Oh my god! You did that?!” Kristen asked, whipping her head towards her, “What did he do to deserve it?”

“I-I..Can we just jog please?” Shawna said a little exasperated, “He told me I can’t say.”

“We wouldn’t tell anyone! We promise!” Tessa reassured her.

“You’re talking too loud,” Megan jumped in from the back.

“Even if she did, the boys can hear you from here..We can hear from here!” Liz added.

“Shut the fuck up,” Tessa snapped back before a whistle rang out and everybody stopped immediately, the group of girls giving exasperated sighs and a wave of sucking teeth.

“Why are we so chatty today?” the teacher asked, the room fell silent, “I heard someone curse, and you know that means I gotta make yall do health packets.” The class groaned and sucked their teeth, “Ah, Ah! Go change back and get in here while I grab the packets. Get seated on the bleachers and if I catch you doing other work, not only are you gonna sit, you’re getting detention.”

~

The girls were changing in the locker room and decided to pick up where they left off:

“Why would you-” Tessa began before Shawna cut her off.

“I never said why. He’s a little shit and someone needs to put him in check, so I did,” she replied.

“I say kudos, and I’m sure he deserved it,” Kristen said, watching her classmates redress, “PJ makes Arin out to be such a big softie.”

“He is a softie, for the most part, Matt said that too,” Gabbie chimed in while she pulled her ponytail out.

“I think the rugged hurt puppy look gives him an edge,” Shawna slid into the bustle of the girls talking.

“And you’re like..dating Arin, right?” Megan asked.

“Noo! He’s clearly dating PJ!” Kristen jumped up, yelling over them as they got up to leave.

“Says the girl who wishes she could date PJ,” Gabbie chided to Kristen, who accidentally let red glare at her friend even though blue laughed it off. It wasn’t like she cared what they thought and she wasn’t even mad that they had found out that she liked the lanky Brit, it was the reminder that plagued her that everybody knew she felt like a fool about it. She looked over at Shawna, who had been trying to walk as though she was deaf to the girls. It dawned on her that the girl might feel the same way about Arin, except she just wasn’t sure what transpires when they’re alone; and the girl felt a pang of longing.

The boys’ locker room was heavy. They didn’t think they would get the chance to see what happened.

“Arin,” PJ said, turning around and closing his locker, rolling up his jacket sleeves.

The boy turned around as he fixed his tie to face him, not realising how close he had gotten. He could feel the heat of his torso and his heart began to pound. His body was confused with the stress he felt as his vision blurred a little and mind felt eclipsed in darkness. “What do you want?” he bit at the boy.

“I wanna know why you said that,” he responded brushing off the intensity.

“I didn’t say anything, Peej,” he said, sounding like he was moments away from losing his patience.

“You said that she isn’t mine, and I’m..just curious,” he backed off in tone, “You sounded like it came from somewhere that you’re familiar with. I know you two have been getting close, and from what I’ve heard, you look like that because of her.”

“Did she say anything to you about it?” Arin asked raising an eyebrow.

“Spit it out, you cocky fuck!” Felix spat out.

“No one is talking to you Felix, I got this babe,” PJ tried to soothe the enraged Swede.

“No, we’ve got beef from earlier, and if he’s the guy I think he is, I’d keep Shawna away from him,” Felix interjected, “Suzy told me how he gets a fucking kick outta fucking up girls.”

“That’s a fucking lie,” Arin scoffed, “You’re just mad I’ve got Daddy’s attention right now so stop whining like a selfish slut!”

Arin hadn’t even realised he said that, and there was no way he could have known. It was a bad day for Felix and everything was going wrong so that’s just what he needed to hear to tip him off. He jumped up and slammed Arin into the lockers. Instinctively, Arin’s hands shot up to grab his arms to keep him from choking, resulting in repeated slams. The locks and handles stabbing him in the back and the repeated clang was where Arin had found his mind. The blurs got worse and the sound muffling while PJ, Matt, and Phil get a hold of Felix, which he had stronger hands than he had let on. 

#youniversityadvent

[sympathyfortheblinderdevil]

Diversion

Esme is frustrated with John’s infidelity and subconsciously begins to punish him. 

Esme stood with her back to the door. She took short rapid breaths and tried to rub the sting out of her jaws. She squeezed her eyes shut, but all she could see was his icy stare.

She had made a glaring miscalculation in trying to talk to Tommy about taking the family on the road to France. It was a bold move, she knew, but she didn’t know that his reaction would be so fierce.

She could still feel his rough fingertips gripping her face. Her mind raced as she replayed it in her mind. The threats he made didn’t faze her.

If you ever talk about getting lost again I’ll cut you from this family.

She knew that Tommy needed her family connections, and she was able to remind him of that.

What family?

Her sweaty hands, her racing heart, and her inability to catch her breath came from somewhere else. His hands were freezing cold, but her skin burned where he touched it. Something electric passed between them while she spoke of getting lost. She hadn’t meant for it to happen—she’d never thought of him that way—but he felt it too.

Thank God the shop was empty. She wondered if he would have behaved any differently with others around. No, she decided, he wouldn’t have touched her in front of John. But, then, she wouldn’t have spoken to Tommy in that way in front of John, either. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. She had to pull it together; she had things to do.

 ***One Year Later***

 “I’m sick to death of it Pol.”

Esme stood in the vault, slamming £100 bundles onto a shelf. She and Polly were charged with doing the count at the end of the business day and readying the shop for the next morning, while the boys sought leisure pursuits.  

“I like the work, God knows it beats moping ‘round the house all day changing nappies, but he just swans off without me every night and doesn’t come home ‘till we're all in bed.” She laid the last bundle of notes on the pile and mumbled, “Or sometimes not at all.”

Polly sympathized with her. Over the last year, she and Esme had bonded a bit, and she knew that life with a Shelby man could try the patience of a saint. She wrote the last sum in the ledger and slammed it shut with an air of finality.  From her desk drawer, she produced a bottle of port and poured a glass for them both. The conversation that they were about to have called for a drink. Polly, never one to mince words called out, “Is he going to whores?”

Esme poked her head out of the vault and scowled, “I don’t know if he’s paying them, but there are women.” The heavy steel door whined as she pulled it closed behind her, and she gratefully swallowed the drink that Polly handed to her. “I can smell them on him when he comes stumbling in.”

“Does he still want you?”

Esme scoffed, “When does he not? He acts like all I’m good for is cooking his meals and riding his cock.”

“That’s how they all are. We are expected to keep the hearth and home while they have all the fun.” She lit a cigarette and poured another tot for both of them. “It’s not fair for us. Never has been.”

They drank in silence for a few minutes, then Polly spoke, “Have you ever thought of giving him a taste of his own medicine?”

Esme’s eyes grew dark as she quietly responded, “I’m an honorable woman. I would never lie with another man.”

Pol rolled her eyes, “I’m not suggesting that you turn into the town whore.” She tilted her head back and eyed Esme, “You’re an attractive woman. Attract some attention. Make him jealous.”

“Where, the Garrison?” Esme laughed, “I wouldn’t give any of those bastards the steam off my piss.”

Dissolving in a fit of laughter, Polly conceded.

 ***One Week Later***

 Aunt Polly sipped her tea loudly while scowling over the edge of her teacup at John. He, Tommy, and Esme were in various stages of finishing breakfast and haggling over sections of the morning newspaper. John was oblivious to the fact that Polly had been shooting daggers at him with her eyes until Tommy spoke up. “What has John done to put your nose out of joint, Pol? Come on, out with it.” “All right, I’ll come out with it. Where were you last night, John? I heard you coming up the lane at four this morning.” She spoke in a no-nonsense tone. She meant to have answers. “Polly!” Esme protested. “No, Esme, he needs to answer.” Polly shot back.  Tommy looked from Aunt Polly to John and then to Esme who uncomfortably shifted in her seat. Her face was a storm cloud, and she defiantly refused to look at anyone at the table. She sat with her arms crossed, looking at the door. “No, I’ll answer the question. I had business to attend to,” John stated, as if it was the most natural thing on Earth to attend to business until 4:00 am. Polly scoffed, “Business, eh?” Tommy tried to hazard another glance at Esme who stood up in a huff, “I have business to attend to as well. The betting shop opens in 10 bloody minutes.”

“Esme,” John started.

“Leave it, John. We’ll talk later.” Esme grumbled.

Before Esme was completely out of the room, Pol spoke up, “Better keep a close eye on that one, John.” Esme cast a glance over her shoulder to see what Polly was playing at. “There was a bloke in the shop last week who was ready to take her away.” “Who was he?” John sat up stiffly and puffed his chest out while Polly smirked behind her teacup.  Alone in the shop, Esme prepared the betting slips and cash boxes. She smiled and shook her head; she could hardly believe the balls on Polly. Lost in her own thoughts she didn’t hear Tommy creep into the room. “Who was it?” He asked, his voice still raspy with sleep. Esme looked up with surprise, “Shit, Thomas. Don’t sneak up on me like that.” Within two steps Tommy was inches from her. He was close enough for her to smell his shaving soap and the starch in his shirt. She instinctively stepped back and he followed. “I said, who was he?” “Jesus, Tommy! Polly made it up. John’s been whoring around and Polly thought it would be a good idea to make him jealous.” Tommy took a drag from his ever-present cigarette and studied Esme’s face. He cleared his throat and spoke again. “Does it bother you that John stays out?” She lifted her chin and matched his attitude with her own. “He’s my husband, isn’t he?” The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “That’s not an answer.” He stubbed his cigarette out and left her standing there, staring at his back as he walked across the shop to his office. She didn’t breathe or blink until he closed the door.

 ***One Day Later*** Esme loved horses. That was something Tommy could understand and something that Polly reminded them about as they loaded the truck to go to the horse auction. But John stood with a puzzled look as if the very suggestion was mad. “Esme doesn’t have time for horses what with the kids and the house and the shop.” Polly patted him on the cheek. “You’re buying horses anyway. Would it be so hard to do something nice for your wife? It would cost less than a weekend on the piss and she needs something to herself. Tommy, tell him.” Tommy shrugged, “It couldn’t hurt. Call it a diversion. Something to keep her from pining away about traveling.” “Or running off,” Polly quipped. “What’s that?” John looked back at Polly, “What’s she said?” “A woman like her can only handle so much for so long, John. She’s a Lee.” When all he could do was stare at her and shift the toothpick in his mouth, Polly let out an exasperated sigh and railed at him, “For fuck’s sake! She’s a Good wife, but even good women have their limits. With all the late nights you’ve been keeping, God knows where with God knows who, a gesture such as a horse would go a long way toward keeping your wife happy.”

John gave her a cheeky grin, the kind that got him out of numerous punishments as a child. “All right, all right, Aunt Pol.” As they climbed into the truck, Tommy nodded to Polly and she knew that he’d take care of it. Day turned into night, and the truck rolled into Charlie’s yard carrying a gelding and a stallion. Curly helped Tommy unload the horses and get them into their stalls since John had gone ahead to the Garrison to meet up with Arthur. Curly went over the first horse with an expert eye, “He’s a good one. But why’d you get a gelding, Tommy? Not like you to buy a gelding.” “He’s not for me.” As Tommy answered, he saw Esme walking into the stables. She hated not being allowed to go to the auction, so Polly told her to leave the kids with her and go to see what they’d brought home. She was flushed from the long walk and flashed a rare grin when she saw the new additions standing in their stalls. “You got two!” she marveled and approached the gelding. She pulled a sugar cube from her pocket and giggled when he nuzzled her hand. Tommy couldn’t help but smile along with her. Her passion for horses matched his own. There were few things in Small Heath that could bring peace or joy to him, and seeing Esme truly happy as she bent down to kiss the horse’s muzzle did it for him. “Do you like him?”

“He’s wonderful.” “He’s yours.” She was stunned into silence. Tommy walked over to the stall where she stood and brushed the gelding’s forelocks with his fingers. The horse nickered and Tommy murmured reassuringly to him. He then turned to Esme and looked into her deep brown eyes which were rapidly filling with tears and whispered, “He’s yours, Es.” She was amazed, utterly surprised, and touched by his kindness. Before she could think about what she was doing, she threw her arms around Tommy’s neck and embraced him. Her lips met his for a split second before she pulled herself back. He gripped her shoulders as she stammered, “I...I’m...” He knew that they were playing a dangerous game, but he wanted to make this okay. He didn’t want anything to dampen the joy that she felt and the odd connection that was growing between them. But his justification didn’t quite match his demeanor. “Don’t apologize, Esme. You’ve done nothing wrong. Just sisterly affection.” His eyes were half closed, and the words dripped off of his lips like honey. He let go of her shoulders, and in a daze, she turned toward the stall. It all had happened so fast. It was a heartfelt reaction, almost a reflex. But the way that it made her feel, and the way that Tommy looked at her… Tommy may have told her that she had done nothing wrong, but the butterflies in her stomach knew otherwise.

I absolutely love John Shelby, but he broke my heart every time that he cheated on Esme. I guess this is helping me work out my feelings about that. Don’t hate me.

Diversion: Chapter 2 can be found on my masterlist because Tumblr hates links. 

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fiction #tommy shelby x esme shelby #angst #what family?

[overly-b]

True Intentions Made Untrue (A Kingsman Fic) - Chapter 3

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x American Reader

Summary: Being the daughter of top agents meant that she never had a shot. Until one day, when it seemed that out of the blue, the rules had suddenly changed. But why? How did the rules once so firmly pressed into stone suddenly change? Was it her, was it the agency? Sometimes the truest intentions can turn bitter.

Just a lil disclaimer, this fic will be hard to follow if you have not seen the Kingsman movies (or at least the first one) spoiler alert if you have not! Also, I am American, so I tend to write things as well as my characters with that point of view so the reader is American.

Please feel free to message me or shoot me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list!

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing, spoilers if you haven’t seen the movie

Enjoy loves!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 

It took everything that I had not to gush over the pyramid of puppies in front of me. I kept my lips pressed in a firm line to force myself to listen to Merlin who stood on the balcony above them.  

“As some of you will have learned last night,  teamwork is paramount here at Kingsman. We're here to enhance your skills, test you to the limit. Which is why you're gonna pick a puppy.”

My eyes went straight to the brittany spaniel that was placed in the middle of the pyramid, as well as the pit bull right next to it. I weighed my options. My family in America had brittany's back home. Hunting dogs, easy to train, easy to get along with, plus, I have tons of experience already. However, Pitbulls are tough and hearty. Easy to train as well.

“Wherever you go, your dog goes. You will care for it. You will teach it. And by the time it's fully trained, so will you be. Those of you who are still here, that is. Do you understand? Choose your puppy.”

I go for the brittany, scooping up the puppy in my arms. I take a moment to squeeze it gently before attaching its leash and placing the small being at my feet. I stand next to Eggsy with Roxy on his other side. I peer over their choices.

“A poodle?” Eggsy asks slightly smug expression on his face.

“What? They're gun dogs. Oldest working breed. Easy to train.” She looks to me for back up, Eggsy peers my way along with her. I nod in agreement to her statement. “A pug?” She beats me to the punch. Eggsy then looks up in a panic.

“It's a bulldog, innit?” My mouth widens in surprise and amusement and I shut it quickly not to burst out laughing at his mistake. Roxy shakes her head. Eggsy then cocks his head towards me with a look of help me on his face. He sees my expression and realizes the mishap.  “It'll get bigger, though, won't it?”

“Not by much” I stifle a giggle.

“Shit” He drops his shoulders, looking at my dog. “Alright then, what’s that?” He asks, obviously annoyed with himself, trying to see if I had made a bad decision as well.

“It’s a brittany” I say matter of factly. “Hunters, gun dogs, quick learners, and I have previous experience”  

“Fuck me” He groans, seeing that I chose wisely.

“At least he’s cute” I glance down to Eggsy’s feet where our puppies sniff each other wearily, both so tiny and weak. He chuckles at my attempts to make him feel better.

Shortly after we all fall back in line, Merlin dismisses us for the day. I decide to stay outside in the sun and play with my new found friend. I sit down in the grass, letting him off of his leash. He patters around slowly for a while, unsure of his surroundings. I giggle as he trips over himself multiple times, his footing still not being the greatest. As I ponder names for the tiny brown and white dog, I hear footsteps behind me.

“Mind if I join you?” Eggsy’s accent rings through my ears. I turn my head to find him with his pug in his arms. I pat the grass next to me, motioning for him to sit. He sets his puppy down near my leg and takes the place beside me.

“Any ideas for names yet?” I question the blonde haired boy.

“Not really. You?” We both stare intently at the creatures bouncing about.

“Meh. I’m brainstorming” I answer. “What are some of your favorite things?”

“What?” He furrows his brows.

“What are some of your favorite things?” I ask again. “You know, singers, shows, movies. What are some things we could base his name off of?”

He spends a few minutes listing singers, movies, shows, characters, telling me all about some of his favorite things. I find it interesting simply listening to him.

“Jack Bauer is my favorite character of all time though.” He admits.

“You’re gonna name your dog Jack Bauer?” I muse.

“Nah. That’s a bit funny don’t ya think?” He chuckles.

“JB” I state absentmindedly, watching our dogs play together whilst picking at a blade of grass.

“JB, that’s perfect” He sits up slightly.

“What?” I whip my head around to look at him, giggling in a confused manner.

“JB! I love it”

“Oh my god I was joking!” I exclaim.

“Well I’m not, I fuckin love that. JB the bulldog” He states matter of factly.

“Eggsy he’s not a bulldog!” I laugh gesturing to his pug.

“Yeah, how the bloody fuck did I do that?”

“I don’t know how the hell did you do that?” I scoff at him, answering his question with the same one.

“Fucking,” He sighs in annoyance with his own mistake. “What are you naming your dog?”

While Eggsy was listing off his favorite things, I was listening and thinking of some names as well. One however, was as random as it gets, but it seemed to suit the young boy pup.

“Bentley” I state.

“Bentley? Like the car?” he tilts his head.

“Yup” I answer, thinking of a certain automobile that I hold near and dear to my heart.

“Ya like Bentleys?” He squints in the ever prevailing sun.

“I do yeah. My dad had one” I leave it simply, not wanting to dig further into the topic. He seems to understand this as he asks no further. We sit for a while longer before Merlin’s footsteps approach us.

“Y/N, Eggsy” He begins. I quickly stand at attention, and Eggsy is clumsy in following my lead. “At ease.” He tells us. “A word with you please” He nods in my direction. I clip Bentley’s leash to his collar and shoot Eggsy a quick smile before walking in Merlin's shadow into the Kingsman base.

We walk a ways through an endless maze of hallways and doors before coming to one in what looks to be a hospital-like setting.

“Understanding that Harry is some of the only family that you have, I feel that it is important that you know he was injured on a mission today”

My face drops as I feel my heart fall to my stomach and I fail to keep my composure.

“What- um, what happened?” I ask Merlin, just above the tone of a whisper.

“Of course you know I can not discuss certain information, he’s in a coma. He’s stable, however, we don’t know how long it’ll be until he will come to.”

I take a moment to process the information given.

“Can I see him?” Merlin answers my question by opening the door and holding it for me to walk through. After I enter, he steps in behind me and shuts the door.

In the blindingly white room, I find machines, beeping and whirring away. Screens and lights blinking and showing breathing patterns and heart waves. And in the middle of it all, Harry. I go from pursing my lips in anticipation to biting my bottom lip so hard in an attempt not to lose it before Merlin's eyes. I let a shaky breath out of my mouth.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“It seems that way yes. I think we just need to have patience. If I were you I would try not to worry. Focus on your training. Make him proud”

I nod at Merlin, walking over to Harry’s bedside and giving his hand a gentle yet tight squeeze.  

“Thank you, Merlin” I take long strides out of the room.

As I find the way back to our quarters, I try not to focus in the fact that Merlin didn’t say that Harry was going to be okay. I try not to think about how unsure he was of it all. I try not to think of the look on his face when I asked. I try, but I did not win that game.

I was thankful to find that the quarters were empty and decided to take a shower. I tied Bentley’s leash to the foot of my bed while he slept just to make sure he didn’t run off.

After standing in one of the semi-private single showers, I stripped down and turned the water hot. I stand in the steaming water in hopes that it would calm me down before anyone else wandered back to the quarters.

I heave sobs, shoving them down my throat before they can escape my mouth. It causes a painful lump in my neck that I am forced to swallow as soon as I hear voices. Charlie, Rufus, and Digby all walk past the shower room into the area where the beds lay. Being that the showers are secluded, they take no notice of me standing there listening to every word they say.

I quickly dry off and dress.

“Lads, who d’ya think is gone next?” I hear Charlie ask his friends.

“Ah that pleb Eggsy has no place here, he’s bound to fuck up soonest,” One of them says. Exiting the shower, I tiptoe to the entrance of the room, listening intently.

“I have a feeling that Roxy might put up a good fight but, she doesn’t have what it takes either”

I scoff to myself. Typical male energy.

“But we both know that you’d tap that, either way, eh Rufus?” Charlie slaps his shoulder. The group laughs.

“What about Y/N mate. She’s well fit, how’d ya think she’ll hold up?” My ears perk up.

“Not well fit enough. D’ya see how small she is?” Charlie gestures, mentioning my short figure. “She’s got to be the youngest one here. She’s feisty but, I doubt she’ll keep up. All talk I bet, she’s too soft for this.”

My face contorts at their demeaning comments. Not into a look of sadness or offense, but into a look of anger, and pure determination.  I decided then to walk out of the shower room.

“Evening boys”  I comment nonchalantly, walking to my bed.

“Evening Y/N” Charlie stands from his position and demeaningly walks towards my bed where I untie Bentley. I turn to walk back out, having every intention of taking my dog for a walk, but Charlie plants himself directly in my path.

“‘Excuse me” I demand.

“Where you going so quick love?” He places his hands on my shoulders to steady my attempt to get around him. I swiftly shake his hands off. 

“A walk, now get out of my way” I take a step to his other side, but his large legs beat me there again.

“Care if I join you?”

“Yeah, I do actually” I sass, absolutely hating the fact that I am forced to look upwards when I speak. “Plus, doubt I could keep up anyway.” I sneer. It was then that he realized I was listening to what he had said.

“Oh come on darling” He chuckles slightly. “I didn’t mean to offend you-” “Good, cause you didn’t” I cut him off sharply.

“I’m just saying love,” There’s that word again. “I just don’t think you have what it takes.”

“All talk right?” I rehash his insult.

“Seems like it to me” He looks me up and down. “Little thing like you, how could you possibly beat out all of us”

To this, I narrow my eyes and look straight into his.

“I guess you’ll find out” I state firmly, with a glint of bitterness to my tone. With that being my final sentence, I begin walking. But not without bumping shoulders with the tall man as hard as I could muster. And sure enough, it was a force great enough to knock him out of my way.

Taglist: @simplechicwithacrazedheart @mylifeinablogggg @bohemianrhapsody86   @justapeachysoul @spaskaalekha @sabrinarosevangorp @yummypheonix39 @dez-the-geek 

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#taron egerton #taron #egerton #taron egerton imagine #eggsy #unwin #eggsy unwin #eggsy unwin imagine #eggsy unwin fanfiction #eggsy x reader #eggsy imagine #kingsman #kingsman secret service #kingsman imagine #kingsman fic #kingsman fanfiction

[pvrestwolff]

---- that's right, pleased to meet you, i still won't tell you my name. don't you believe in mystery? don't you want to play my game?

trident’s task 005; character questionnaire number two.

---- basic character questions

first name? ekaterina. surname? kashkanov-zamolochikova-markovy. ( usually just goes by markovy as a last name ) middle names? mikhailovna aliena. nicknames? erica, kat, kati, katya, nina and kitten. date of birth? eleventh of january, nineteen eighty-eight. age? thirty years old.

---- physical / appearance

height? 5′4″ weight? 135lbs, but has lost muscle and weight since being on the island. build? slim, slight and lean. hair color? honey brown. hair style? thin and soft but abundant, naturally curly, normally sits a little longer than shoulder length but has gone uncut since being on the island. eye color? blue with a hazel ring around the pupil. eye shape? almond/round. glasses or contact lenses? both. distinguishing facial features? eyes, lips, cheekbones, jawline. which facial feature is most prominent? eyes. which bodily feature is most prominent? biceps. other distinguishing features? hands, legs, waist, tattoos. skin? tan/olive. hands? slender palm, long fingers. make up? concealer and foundation with a nude lip and simple eyeliner for everyday use, concealer, foundation, highlighter and contour with a bright red or pink lip, complementary colours of eyeshadow and dramatic eyeliner for functions, parties, appearances or photoshoots. scars? straight, deep cuts all across her body at varying angles from sword-fighting practice that have faded to be near unnoticeable, a scar from a switchblade she copped while trying to protect charlie, scars across her knuckles from punching either a face or a bag too hard and splitting the skin, and small indents from chicken pox when she was a child. birthmarks? a mark on her forearm that is similarly shaped to a rabbit; she shares the mark with her mother. tattoos? a tiger on her left middle finger, a butterfly on the back of her neck, four birds on her left forearm, a sun and two stars behind her right ear, a tree on the right of her torso and hermes wings on the outsides of both her ankles, the word “cariad” in looping script, on the left the side of her ribs. physical handicaps? short sightedness and astigmatisms. type of clothes? neat blouses, skirts, heels, vests, a jacket, comfortable pants and the heaviest boots she can find. how do they wear their clothes? fitted if they are for show, for function if they are not. what are their feet like? her feet are well taken care of, has calloused balls and heels from dancing and running barefoot. usually wears comfortable and clean socks with whatever boots she can find that are wearable, even if they are a little too large. will wear heels for a party, however. race / ethnicity? caucasian ( russian, belarusian ) and ashkenazi jewish. mannerisms? miming out piano scales on surfaces while she is thinking, stretching her hands, tapping her thumb and middle finger together, tapping her foot to an imaginary beat, furrowing her brow while reading, tracing her fingertips over the lines of her visible tattoos. are they in good health? yes, for the time being. do they have any disabilities? borderline personality disorder.

---- personality

what words or phrases do they overuse? “i am fine.”, ”shut up.“, “idiot/pizdabol'.”, “fuck/kurva.”, “whore, slut, bitch/bliadz’.”, “fucking whore/kurva piardolanaja.”, “bastard/bajstruk.”, “no,”, “fuck you.”. there are many more and they are all offensive. do they have a catchphrase? “no.” or “fuck you.”. are they more optimistic or pessimistic? both. are they introverted or extroverted? both. do they ever put on airs? without a doubt. ekaterina is incredibly good at acting or pretending to be someone she is not, or feeling what she is not. what bad habits do they have? catastrophising, focusing on details, smoking tobacco and weed, drinking alcohol and coffee, swearing (though she doesn’t consider it a bad habit), needing to know everything, pursuing activities or people that she knows are bad for her. what makes them laugh out loud? children falling and completely eating shit, instant karma, dark and morbid humour, shakespeare’s comedies acted well. how do they display affection? ekaterina does not like PDA, usually. part of her enjoys the idea of a little PDA in order to make it known who belongs to her. in private, however, ekaterina is much more affectionate, and she can act extremely different. if they are new to it, she might touch someone on the chest or arm, perhaps even caress their jaw, but if she is well acquainted, she might straighten out their clothes, trace over their skin, neaten up their hair and brush locks out of their eyes, hold their hands, hug them and if they happen to be lying down, she might bury her face in their neck or hand while holding them. it very much depends on who it is she is showing affection for. mental handicaps? borderline personality disorder. minor depression. obsessive-compulsive tendencies, sociopathic tendencies. how do they want to be seen by others? ekaterina truly wants to be someone that people fear or respect, as she knows deep down that she is the kind of person who could do something earth-shattering if she set her mind to it. she wants to be seen as strong, unfailing, reliable, mysterious, perfect and perhaps even unattainable. how do they see themselves? the furthest thing from desirable, and as a truly evil creature. how are they seen by others? probably as an angry, mean yet just person who will fight anyone who sets her off. strongest character trait? determination. weakest character trait? intrapersonal emotional intelligence. how competitive are they? extremely. ekaterina is the type that wants to win everything, even if winning does not mean anything. do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? it depends on the situation. if she is bombarded, she won’t take the time to ponder, but if she is far more at ease, she tends to allow discovery before she judges. how do they react to praise? sometimes awkwardly, sometimes she will brush it off and other times, she will gladly accept it. how do they react to criticism? that depends on what someone is criticising her on. if it is her personality or who she is as a person, she will snap on them, but if it is about something that she does, she can accept it. as long as it’s constructive. what is their greatest fear? rejection, failure, losing her loved ones and being totally alone. what are their biggest secrets? she murdered a man when she was fourteen to save charlie’s life, she has killed other despicable people while in league with the belarusian mafia, she enjoys torturing people that have done abhorrent things, and takes special pleasure in drawing out their deaths so that they suffer until the last second. on a lighter note, she had a two long year secret relationship with grace ( that people still are not aware of ), she slept with luka ( several times ), and they have still not yet told his friend, the other prince who vied for her attention. she knows that the guilt weighs on them both but they have chosen to not speak of it. and finally, she is intensely attracted to roman tulach. ( @gunnerflanagan​, @classiciisms,​ @luka-rossi​, @roman-tulach​ ) what is their philosophy of life? talk less, smile more. don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for. when was the last time they cried? when she realised that charlie was both alive and well, and now a pirate. what haunts them? a few nights in her lifetime where she was coerced into sexual acts while she was not sober and had not properly consented. the mornings after those encounters ekaterina felt as if she could say nothing to anyone and so has kept it to herself, giving her a warped impression of her value, and the death of her cousin, lorne dùghlas. she had been rather close with him, given their similar ages and it broke her heart to learn about his murder. what are their political views? she is a liberal in some aspects, but has slowly been losing faith in the current ideology the world shares since she was thrust into meetings and talks that her mother insisted she learn about. when it comes to running a country with absolute monarchy, she does not agree, and believes that the people need a voice as well. what will they stand up for? justice above all else, no matter the cost. who do they quote? niccolò di bernardo dei machiavelli, william shakespeare, friedrich wilhelm nietzsche, socrates, rené descartes, george orwell, f. scott fitzgerald, joseph conrad, vincent van gogh, oscar wilde, albert einstein, mae west, dr seuss ( yes, look up his quotes ), marilyn monroe. are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? both. what is their sinful little habit? a drug-fuelled orgy or murder seems a little obvious, so perhaps it is her pining for and silent flirting with either ex-lovers, or taken/unattainable people that she quietly adores. what sense do they most rely on? instinct. how do they treat people better than them? as long as they treat her with respect, she will do the same. how do they treat people worse than them? as long as they treat her with respect, she will do the same. what quality do they most value in a friend? loyalty and patience. what do they consider an overrated virtue? purity or honesty. if they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? ekaterina is the kind of person that would change everything about herself if she could, but she would never truly be happy, and continue to change each aspect on a whim, eventually losing all that used to make her, her. what is their obsession? absolute perfection, blades, lingerie, leather, literature. what are their pet peeves? when people chew with their mouth open; ignorance; stupidity, unreliability; self-centredness; being used for her status; people who expect respect when they have not earned nor given it; people who complain to complain; people who corrupt their morals for material gain; people who tell her to speak in english if she is speaking in one of her mother tongues; people who dog ear books to bookmark their page. what are their idiosyncrasies? when observing a fight, she will add in comments to fuel the anger between whoever is arguing in order to turn it into a brawl; smoothing out dog ears on pages in books; continually adjusting her glasses ( when she has them ); chewing on the end of the pencil or pen she uses to journal or document things; arranging objects on a surface so they are straight and line up with each other.

---- friends and family

is their family big or small? who does it consist of? her family is quite large, including three royal branches. the markovy family adds six members; her mother, her father, ekaterina, nikolai and her two middle siblings; the nikolaevna family adds another six; her aunt, her uncle, tatiana and her three younger siblings; the dùghlas family adds another seven; her aunt, her uncle, ainsley, her three older brothers and one older sister; also included would be her paternal grandparents, her grandmother on that side being her babushka, her maternal grandparents, all of that brings the total up to twenty four known relatives, alive or deceased. ( @nikolaimarkovy, @tatiana-nikolaevna, @hrhxainsley ) what is their perception of family? ekaterina would give anything for her family, and that is the utter truth. no matter the request, no matter the risk, she would do whatever they asked of her; family is extremely important to her. do they have siblings? older or younger? ekaterina is the eldest of four, with two sisters in the middle, and a brother, nikolai, the youngest. describe their best friend. over the years, the title of best friend has changed hands many times, though she can confidently say that her brother is one of her closest friends and  regardless of who else may hold when she was younger, it was her father ( whom she still calls her daddy in an innocent way despite the fact that she’s thirty ); then the second eldest ukrainian royal; it fell to charlie while she was in paris; after that, she floated about without many friends to speak of, none of them coming close to that connection. in fact, it is her cousins and siblings who were often her best friends in that period of time. however, after a personal bodyguard was hired for her and they began to bond, she considered him her best friend; of course, all of those were ex-best friends, in the kindest of meanings. when she met lola through mutual connections, she felt as if she had found someone who she could truly call a friend again, and as they bonded, she became more and more attached. the island has only strengthened their relationship, and she would consider lola to be her best friend now. though, it is starting to feel as if the fine line between friend and possible lover is becoming exceedingly blurred. ( @lola-gutierrez ) ideal best friend? ekaterina likes a best friend who can challenge her, but also show patience in the face of her mental and emotional struggles. she wants to be able to trust her best friend with confidence, and for them to be there for her as she would be for them. describe their other friends. it would be safe to say that her friends are people like nikolai, luka, charlie, tatiana, ainsley, nael, grace, ottavio. ( @princenaelxdlf, @ottavioxrossi ) describe their acquaintances. carlos, oliver, rhys, and roman ( though it is more attraction than an alliance/acquaintanceship ) ( @blueblxod, @first-mate-sebastian, @rhys-tclford ) do they have any pets? two dogs; daisy, a maltese shih-tzu and jay, a labrador kelpie. who are their natural allies? her family, grace, charlie, lola, people who believe in justice, and people who do not jeopardise the safety of others through impulsivity. who are their surprising allies? i mean, this one has to be roman tulach.

---- past and future

what was your character like as a baby? as a child? ekaterina rarely cried as a baby, only gazing up at her parents with her now well-known big, blue intense eyes. as child, however, she was very selfish and upset when she could not see her parents due to their royal commitments. she still holds resentment for that fact. did they grow up rich or poor? very, very rich. did they grow up nurtured or neglected? neglected. her parents were not there for her formative years, though her father seems to be only one of the two who regrets that. what is the most offensive thing they ever said? from what she can recall, it was: “call us fags once more and i will shove david’s star up your cunt.” it was said to a female orthodox preacher who harassed her and a girl she had taken out to dinner as they walked by holding hands, both for being gay and for being jewish. what is their greatest achievement? managing to maintain a semi-normal relationship for as long as she did with grace and reducing crimes in belarus through deals with members of organised criminal syndicates. what was their first kiss like? like fireworks. they’d been running through a cobblestreet alleyway to avoid her bodyguards when ekaterina tripped and scraped both of her knees, causing her to yelp in pain and scoot away from the line of sight down the path. in an attempt to distract her from the pain, charlie kissed her. she’d wanted him to kiss her for a long time and although it was clumsy and awkward, as most first kisses are, she wouldn’t have changed a thing about it. what is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? she turned luka on his best friend as both of them fought for her affections, eventually sleeping with luka and keeping it a secret from his friend to avoid adding fuel to the fire. truthfully, she wanted both of them, and still wishes she could have had a night with the other prince. she also distanced herself from grace after their break-up because of her own pride and stubbornness. what are their ambitions? true freedom, and to make an impact on the world and never be forgotten. what advice would they give their younger self? bad times will always come with the good, but do not let what happens to you define who you become. what smells remind them of their childhood? the smell of books, old and new, from her father’s library. what was their childhood ambition? to make an impact on the world and never be forgotten. what is their best childhood memory? when she was finally allowed to take up sword-fighting as a hobby. what is their worst childhood memory? the first time she was announced officially as heir to the throne and had to give a speech to the public. did they have an imaginary childhood friend? no. when was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? when she realised that charlie had become a pirate. what past act are they most ashamed of? she turned luka on his best friend as both of them fought for her affections, eventually sleeping with luka and keeping it a secret from his friend to avoid adding fuel to the fire; she also regrets reacting so harshly toward grace during and after their break-up. what past act are they most proud of? saving charlie’s life. has anyone ever saved their life? her personal bodyguard was stabbed before, when a girl rushed her at a club. she is still forever grateful for his actions. strongest childhood memory? lying awake and listening to her father read her stories/sing to her.

---- love

do they believe in love at first sight? no. are they in a relationship? technically yes. she is betrothed, though she does not consider it a relationship. how do they behave in a relationship? usually the same as she does out of one. there just happens to be more sex and more emotion to it. when did you character last have sex? god only knows. SHE NEEDS IT THOUGH. what sort of sex do they have? all kinds. she enjoys slow, gentle sex but also loves rough, animalistic sex, and enjoys incorporating BDSM into her encounters. has your character ever been in love? yes, with charlie and grace. have they ever had their heart broken? yes, by charlie and grace.

---- conflict

how do they respond to a threat? usually with defensive action. are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? both. what is your character’s kryptonite? grace, someone who can match her mind games like roman, strawberries on pancakes, or someone she loves crying. if your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? it would depend on what’s inside. likely her dogs, or her family if they were still trapped. how do they perceive strangers? as strangers. she does not judge until she learns a few things about them. what do they love to hate? herself. what are their phobias? autophobia, atychiphobia, atelophobia. what is their choice of weapon? knives, swords, guns, fists, or anything she can find. what living person do they most despise? she has killed most of the people she truly despises. have they ever been bullied or teased? yes. where do they go when they’re angry? usually to her private space so that she can be alone, lest she be provoked into a physical altercation. who are their enemies and why? anyone who stands in the way of her goals, anyone who is despicable enough to commit crimes like rape, child abuse, human trafficking and nazis.

---- work, education and hobbies

what is their current job? crown princess, heir to the belarusian throne, grand duchess of vitebsk, killer for hire. what do they think about their current job? she does not particularly enjoy being royalty nor being the heir though she knows she has no say in it. she does, however, love the vigilante justice that comes with killing horrible people. what are some of their past jobs? none. what are their hobbies? exercising, fencing, martial arts, fighting, reading, playing piano, exploration, sketching, creating/using ciphers for her journals, assassinations and murder. educational background? has a masters degree in history of piracy with a minor in cryptography. intelligence level? 135 IQ, superior intelligence. do they have any specialist training? yes. fencing, martial arts, sword-fighting, gun-handling, cryptography, cartography, scuba diving, basic latin, history, history of piracy, etiquette, ballroom dancing. do they have a natural talent for something? strategy and leading. do they play a sport? are they any good? yes; fencing, sword-fighting, lacrosse and cross-country running. she trains intensely in order to excel in the sports she attempts. what is their socioeconomic status? upper, royal.

---- favourites

what is their favorite animal? a tiger, or a bird. which animal to they dislike the most? she doesn’t loathe any animal, but spiders are not exactly on her favourites list. what place would they most like to visit? the parts of the world that she has not yet seen. what is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? the ocean. what is their favorite song? la vie en rosie by édith piaf or dream a little dream of me by the mamas and the papas. music, art, reading preferred? all. what is their favorite color? purple. what is their password? usually something unguessable, but she won’t tell you what it is. favorite food: strawberries and pancakes. what is their favorite work of art? the creation of adam by michelangelo simply for the scientific secrets within it or the birth of venus by sandro botticelli for the same reasons. who is their favorite artist? antoni gaudí i cornet, leonardo da vinci ( if only for his similar approach to coding his work ), vincent van gogh. what is their favorite day of the week? thursdays.

---- possessions

what is in their fridge: usually a lot of fruit and vegetables, yoghurts, basic ingredients for meals, white wine, prosecco and vodka-- but usually not anything filled with sugar. what is on their bedside table? a book or three, a glass of wine, phone charger, watch charger, remote, a jewellery box that holds her ‘engagement’ ring for her betrothal, the ring from her previous arrangement and her family’s signet ring. there was a frame photo of herself and grace there before, but it was put it in her forgotten box. what is in their car? not much, usually a bottle of water. what is in their bin? crumpled up codes, sketches, old receipts, what is in their purse or wallet? in her wallet: her id, her credit cards, business cards and numbers to call, photographs of her family, a small amount of money and international sim cards for when she travels outside the country. in her bag/purse: her phone, her wallet, a deck of cigarettes, a small flask of whiskey, a lighter, a pen, a taser, make up for touch ups, her passport. what is in their pockets? usually nothing. she keeps her possessions either strapped to her body or in her handbag. what is their most treasured possession? her forgotten box, as it is a place she can keep sentimental items, but lock them away so she is not constantly reminded of them.

---- spirituality

who or what is your character’s guardian angel? grace thomas, or the devil. do they believe in the afterlife? no. what are their religious views? she practices jewish and eastern orthodox holidays, but does not really believe in either religion. what do they think heaven is? she doesn’t believe it exists. what do they think hell is? life on earth. are they superstitious? no. what would they like to be reincarnated as? a feline of some sort. how would they like to die? drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra. what is your character’s spirit animal? a tiger. what is their zodiac sign? capricorn // rabbit yang fire or tiger yin fire.

---- values

what do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? sexual assault of all types, being sold into slavery, drugging a child, the judas chalice torture-- though she would take pleasure in any of the aforementioned perpetrators of such heinous crimes being placed upon a judas chalice. what is their view of ‘freedom’? for ekaterina, freedom is living her life as she pleases, with no one dictating what she does and being able to love who she wants to love. when did they last lie? all the time. everyday. all the time. what’s their view of lying? it is better than a horrific truth. when did they last make a promise? to grace, that her family would not be harmed in this revolution. did they keep or break their last promise? she hasn’t had the chance to do either yet.

---- daily life

what are their eating habits? ekaterina is a vegetarian, and tends to eat infrequently but it is always good food. do they have any allergies? no. describe their home. her part of the palace of snov is neat and tidy. nothing is out of place. she has a large bed, a very effective heater, a mounted television on which she streams movies and documentaries, a desk with her computer and other papers and books neatly stacked with stationary close by, a vanity where she lines up her make up and other products such as perfumes. her room also has a large window with a beautiful view of the rest of the grounds. are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? a minimalist. anything she doesn’t need, she passes on to someone who can use it. what do they do first thing on a weekday morning? go for a run or go to the gym. what do they do on a sunday afternoon? participate in her sword-fighting sessions. what do they do on a friday night? if she is feeling up to it, she will make an appearance at a club, drink and take drugs and dance until it is six in the morning. what is the soft drink of choice? none. what is their alcoholic drink of choice? whiskey, vodka or rum.

---- miscellaneous

what is their character archetype? the rebel or the ruler. who is their hero? vincent van gogh. what or who would your character dress up as for halloween? either alice liddell, or daisy buchanan. are they comfortable with technology? yes. if they could save one person, who would it be? her father, nikolai, one of her sisters. or, the person who would benefit her the most. if they could call one person for help, who would it be? her father. what is their favorite proverb? “if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” what is their greatest extravagance? her rare buell motorcycle, or her engagement ring that she received from her first betrothal or any gift grace has ever give her. what is their greatest regret? never standing up to her mother regarding her role as heir. what is their perception of redemption? one who has made actions to prove they have changed. what would they do if they won the lottery? donate all of it to lgbt+ charities in the eastern european region. what is their favorite fairytale? the snow queen. what fairytale do they hate? sleeping beauty do they believe in happy endings? if one puts in the effort and makes it possible, then yes. what is their idea of perfect happiness? freedom and the opportunity to be with the people she loves. to marry grace would also provoke total happiness within her, but she isn’t sure how, if or when that could ever happen. what would they ask a fortune teller? nothing, she doesn’t believe in them. if your character could travel through time, where would they go? to the future, to see if roman’s plan achieved what he wanted. what sport do they excel at? fencing, lacrosse, cross-country running. what sport do they suck at? none, really. if they could have a superpower, what would they choose? she would not want one, but if there were no choice, pathokinesis.

#trident;task #task005 #☾ [ ** 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘻𝘻𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘵𝘺 ⁎⁎ ] TASKS #♛ [ ** 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 ⁎⁎ ] PRINCESS EKATERINA #♛ [ ** 𝘢 𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 ⁎⁎ ] ERICA MARKOVY #☾ [ ** 𝘪 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 ⁎⁎ ] GRACE #☾ [ ** 𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 ⁎⁎ ] CHARLIE #☾ [ ** 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘬 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 ⁎⁎ ] ROMAN #☾ [ ** 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 ⁎⁎ ] LUKA #☾ [ ** 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 ⁎⁎ ] NAEL #☾ [ ** 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘴 ⁎⁎ ] OTTAVIO #☾ [ ** 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 ⁎⁎ ] RHYS #☾ [ ** 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘰𝘷𝘺𝘴 ⁎⁎ ] BELARUS ROYALTY #☾ [ ** 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 ⁎⁎ ] FAMILY #th: the queen of belarus #th: the prince regent #th: tatiana #th: ainsley #th: carlos #th: ollie #th: daisy #th: jay #th: woman's best friends #//** idk i tried #☾ [ ** 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘥 ⁎⁎ ] LOLA

[jestbee]

Ships that pass in the night (Chapter Seventeen)

Title: Ships that Pass in the Night (Chapter Sixteen)

Tags: Alternate Timeline, AU, Slow burn, strangers to friends, friends to lovers Words: 5k Summary: Dan and Phil are YouTubers. The catch? They’ve never met, and Phil doesn’t want them to

Author’s Note: So this could be the final chapter. The story is pretty much wrapped up but I'm going to do a final epilogue chapter with a little smut and some general fluffy bits set a little ways in the future, but if that isn't your thing you don't need to read it in order to get the story. It won't have any more like 'plot' points. Thank you for sticking with me, thank you for voting for this in the 'Universe Augmentation' Phanfic Award 2017 that it won!!

[AO3 Link]   [Tumblr Masterpost]  

He rings his mum on the way back. He feels more awake than he has done for a while and he still has all of the Charlie stuff in his head which means there are now so many things he needs to do, so many things he needs to face up to that he might not be ready for. The least he can do is keep his promise to call.

"Child," she says, customarily.

"Hi mum."

"You sound like you're outside, are you outside?"

"I'm on my way back from seeing PJ," he says, "I told you I would."

There's a clinking sound on the other end and he can imagine her sat at their kitchen table with a warm mug in her hands. He suddenly has a pang of homesickness he wasn't ready for. At times like these it would be nice to have his mum, to give her a hug and make everything else go away like he had when he was little. But his mum can't fight his battles for him anymore, she can't stand up against the demons in his own head, only he can do that.

"Oh Phil. I'm glad."

He hums into the phone and pauses at the top of the stairs to the underground because he'll lose signal if he goes down.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" She asks. Always so careful, always tiptoeing around the conversation. He hates that she needs to do that.

He sighs, mostly to himself.

"It's… complicated."

"Of course it is. I wouldn't expect you to get mixed up over something that wasn't. I know you have… you feel things strongly, but you're not one for getting worked up over nothing."

He bites his bottom lip because that makes something heavy rise in his throat.

"Thanks mum."

"Are you sure you don't want to come home?"

"No… no I think I need to talk to… well, to Dan."

"Dan."

"Yes."

"I see…" she pauses, just for a second, but he hears it. "Well it's good you have a friend."

"Mum."

She knows better than that. She must. But she's giving him room for denial, which is nice. But also another one of those things he wishes she didn't have to do.

She hums down the phone. "I know love, just… be careful."

"I am."

Be careful he isn't the same. Be careful you don't react the same way. Be careful. Be careful. He's been careful, perhaps too careful given how things have worked out. Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith. Like replying to a tweet, or grabbing a coffee, or saying yes to a project. If he doesn't, if he keeps playing it safe and secluded over and over he'll look back and he and Dan will have passed by each other. Like ships that pass in the night he will be merely a story of something that once happened to Phil a long time ago. And Phil isn't sure he wants go settle for that anymore.

"I've got to go," he says, "I…"

"Do what you have to, love."

He says goodbye and finally hangs up. He heads into the underground, shoulders squared and feeling lighter than he has in days. He has hope, buoyant and beautiful hope.

-

The idea comes to him when he's finally checking his emails. There's one from a radio producer at the BBC finalising his booking to appear on the radio show. Dan's radio show.

It isn't ideal, and of course he doesn't expect everything to be fixed at Dan's workplace but it's a first step. A show of willing.

He responds with his confirmation and that's that.

-

The BBC building is all glass. It reflects the sun and the revolving door moves too fast so that he almost gets stuck in it but the lobby is cool and echoing and the visitor badge around his neck makes him feel a little important.

He's amazed that the nerves don't get to him until he's in the lift. He's been riding the adrenaline before this, but it wears out once he follows the girl with the short spiky ponytail down the corridor. They go through a room filled with mismatched sofas and then a sound room with amps he recognises as the live lounge and then they're there. In front of a desk that has hundreds of buttons and dials and lights, engineers in headphones moving them in unison and then--

Dan. On the other side. Head dipped low over his laptop, fringe swinging into his eyes. It takes everything in Phil not to rush through the people, pole vault over the complicated desk, stand amidst the strange array of drawings and posters and celebrity face masks and say-- what?

Something Phil. Think. How has he got this far without knowing what he's going to say?

"Howell," the woman is saying. "Your guest is here."

Dan looks up, slightly confused for a second before their eyes lock. Phil sees the back of his jaw clench, the way his lips purse slightly throwing an annoyed dimple into relief on his cheek.

"Thanks Ros," he says. "I've got it."

Dan comes around the desk. Expertly dodging cables Phil knows he's going to trip on and finally they're face to face. He doesn't look mad, he doesn't look much of anything. His face, the one Phil has grown to know so well, is shockingly blank.

"I didn't think you'd come," Dan says.

"I... " Phil starts, but he still has no idea what to say.

"Come on," Dan says, moving past him but making sure they don't touch. Phil aches. "We've got a half hour, I know where we can get… snacks."

He doesn't say coffee. Phil doesn't get coffee with Dan anymore. That makes him much sadder than it has any right to for something so small.

If he's going to feel this way about anything it should be the way Dan avoids his eyes, or how they walk with a considerable distance between them in the corridors. How everything is different. How much he misses how it used to be. How he doesn't know how to bring up everything that's happened. Where does he even start?

Dan brings them to a vending machine tucked into the corner of a dim grey room, a sofa shoved against a wall and a table with music magazines spread on top of it. There's a coffee machine and a sink but the room looks less polished and modern than the rest of the building.

Dan faces the vending machine and looks at it with a knot in the middle of his brows. His eyes are hard and Phil thinks that the expression is probably for him, rather than the snacks within.

"So… how have you been?"

Dan cocks his head and doesn't meet his eyes. "Fine."

"Good. That's… good.

Phil swallows and feels his tongue thick and cumbersome in his mouth, he can barely speak around how dry his lips feel, how alien the sounds fit behind his teeth.

"I didn't think you'd come," Dan says.

He sounds sad. Phil hates that he sounds sad.

"I… wanted to." it's all he can think to say. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Ha!"

"What?"

"Now you want to talk?" Dan turns, shifting on his heel until he's facing Phil. He looks mad. "You don't just get to pick and choose when you want to talk to me and when you don't. I deserve better than that."

Phil looks down at his shoes, fighting the urge to run away and escape the conversation. He needs to stay, he needs to get some of this out or it will eat at him.

"I know," he says to his Vans, "You do. I just… I didn't--"

He stops, because despite everything he still doesn't know where to start.

Dan sighs and Phil can hear the frustration in it.

"I spoke to Tyler. And Cat. They told me what they said…"

Phil looks up and Dan is staring at him hard.

"You know it's all bullshit, right? They said some shit to me about you ages ago, when I wouldn't stop going on about you." Dan looks sheepish at this. "It was just some dumb joke about hooking up with you for views and… honestly, it never really crossed my mind afterwards. I forgot they even said it once I actually... I should have told them to fuck off when they said it but it was so ludicrous to me that I would even meet you that I… you know… just forgot."

Phil nods, quick and jerky.

"Okay, yeah, I'm stupid I didn't… I'm not sure I ever really…" he lets his shoulders drop from where they've been drawn up, letting the relief flood through him.

He'd pretty much decided that in light of everything that Dan has said to Charlie, how he defended him to his own detriment, that even if Dan had started out wanting to spend time with him for some sort of popularity gain, his feelings must have changed a little. Despite that, it's still nice to hear Dan say out loud that it wasn't like that at all. And Phil can let himself believe it, for once.

"You were right," he says finally, "I was just scared. I don't think I ever really believed it."

Dan bites his bottom lip, chewing a bit on it, the pink flesh turning white. "Last time we spoke you were convinced. What changed your mind, Phil? Why are you here?"

Phil blows out air, makes space for what comes next in his body, like deflating.

"I think I owe you an explanation. For… well, for everything."

Dan's brows lift a little at that, like he's surprised.

"I know," Phil says, forcing a bit of a laugh overtop of his awkwardness, "I don't… I'm not good at doing that. But I want to be… when it comes to you. With you I want to be better."

Dan nods, just once and then beckons him to follow as he makes his way over to the small, beat up couch. He flops down onto it and Phil follows suit, perching on the opposite cushion, suspended and uncomfortable.

"Take your time," Dan says, with far more patience than he has any right to have at this moment.

Phil shakes his head, he had no idea how Dan is like this, how he isn't screaming at Phil to just get on with it. But there he is, all restrained and not pushing him, sitting, waiting, calm and collected. It makes everything crazily zipping around Phil's chest calm, like a flock of birds haphazardly flapping come to a stop, settling in rows.

"So… PJ showed me… um, the things. On Twitter."

"On Twitter?"

Phil nods a little. "Hm, Ch-charlie. The… stuff he's been saying."

"Oh." Dan's mouth purses a little, going tight at the corners. His nostril flare, just ever so slightly. He doesn't look happy. "I didn't realise you didn't know about that."

"I blocked him ages ago."

Phil puts one hand in the other in his lap, squeezing fingers around his palm. He fidgets, nervously. This is difficult, moreso than he'd thought it would be.

"I… I'm not used to talking about this," he says, "I haven't. Not since…"

Dan reaches over and Phil watches his slide his fingers overtop of his, stilling them where he's squeezing over and over. Phil marvels at him, he has every right to stay mad at him, but here he is offering comfort like he always does.

"You don't have to," he whispers.

"I do," Phil insists, not knowing what to do with all of Dan's wonderful patience. "I do. I... "

Phil shifts, turns in his seat until his body is angled towards Dan's. Dan doesn't move his hand, just slips his fingers between Phil's so that they're holding hands. It's a small thing, but it's enough to ground him.

"I had anxiety issues long before I met him," he starts, "I won't credit him with being the be-all-and-end-all of my issues. He doesn't get to claim that."

Dan swipes his thumb over Phil's knuckles. Phil looks down, stunned by the small gesture against his skin, focussing on that instead of on the way his hand is shaking under Dan's palm.

"But I thought I’d found someone who loved me in spite of those issues," Phil croaks, his voice cracking over the words, caught around something in his throat pushing upwards."I thought… It's so stupid, I thought he realised they were a part of me and loved me anyway. But… that's not… he didn't. It's too much. I can understand why."

"I can't," Dan says, "I can't understand that at all. You are not your issues, Phil, but they are a part of who you are. You don't need to be loved in spite of them, you should be loved because of them, including them, because you feel things deeply doesn't mean you're damaged."

Phil looks up, into Dan's serious, sincere expression and he wants to tell him just how much that means, what it is to have someone like Dan telling him these things. How desperately he wants to believe them but how that tiny voice in his head reminds him that they can't possibly be true, or that Dan means them now but won't once he finally sees… once he knows the full extent.

"I think if I’d had someone say that back then… Or had someone who asked me how I am before going into parties or acknowledging when my head gets loud… things might have ended up differently."

"I wish I'd known you then."

Phil closes his eyes and concentrates on Dan's thumb going back and forth over his hand.

"Me too."

"I did…" Dan says, "A bit. I was… well, I was watching your videos at least."

Phil sighs, a little groan escaping him as he thinks of what Dan must have seen, of how it all went down out there in public. How can Dan be sat here now if he saw everything?

"You…"

"I'd like to hear your side of it," Dan says, guessing what it is that is tormenting him. "I never… there was always more to it."

"There was." Phil's voice is tiny, shoved inside of him in that place where he keeps everything. It's cracking open, like something pressured finally released. "He played my insecurities. He… He knew. I told him what I felt like sometimes and he used that to keep me secluded and in the dark about everything that was going on. He said he was trying to push me, to get me to face up to things, but he just didn’t care."

"He was always so... "

"Public," Phil supplies. "Everything was out in the open, and I was just never… comfortable with that. I want to keep it between us, it was personal, you know? Our relationship. But he was so intent on...parading it everywhere."

"I think we all know why."

Phil nods. "Exactly. He used me, Dan. He put our relationship everywhere so that he could be associated with me. I wasn't even… I didn't have like, loads of subscribers then but… YouTube was different. I knew alot of people, we were friends… Charlie never really fit in with all of that. I think there are some people that just shouldn't be online, like in the public space… he's one of them. But he wanted it so much, more than anything else, and he used me to... to…"

Dan slides a little, shuffling up next to him, pressing their hips together. Their hands are still clasped but he's close now. So close Phil can smell the scent of his cologne.

"I just wanted to keep it private," Phil says again, "I didn't know… I was confused. About like, boys and not being straight and navigating the whole… comment section wanting to know my business. You know? But he… he didn't want that."

"Phil…"

"He wanted me to be different," Phil says, his voice a little thick but he's holding on. The warmth from Dan is helping, the rhythmic back and forth of his thumb on his knuckles and the press of his body against his side. This is comfort. This is what he's needed. It hurts, to let it out, to put forth something he's been keeping hidden for all this time. Fear that he wouldn't be understood. "When I didn't want to go along with it, when I had… bad days He thought I could just snap out of it and when I couldn’t he decided I wasn’t worth it, even if it did mean good things for his channel. In the end… he got what he wanted and then moved on."

"I remember… it was just as I started YouTube," Dan says, "I'd been tweeting you alot by then."

Phil nods. "I know that now. I wish… God I wish it had been different. That I'd have seen that or something. But… there was a lot of other stuff going on. I might have seen it, I like to think I'd have seen it. If... you know, everything else hadn't been happening"

"You split up with him."

"Did I?" Phil asks, "That definitely the way he tells it. He spun the story of the victim, like I’d strung him along and was some pompous stuck up big youtuber that hated everyone. He made out like he was the one that had wanted to keep it quiet, but that I'd wanted to… that I made him put it all out in the open. I can't even remember anymore, whether it was me or him. I like to think I did do it, that I did finally break free… but I don't really know."

Phil runs a hand through his hair, dragged his fingers out from between Dan's and standing up. He paces, back and forth in front of the couch, needing to move, to work of some of the rising shake he can feel. It rattles in his chest, his heart beating, pulse pounding in his ears.

"He honestly made it seem like he was the victim, the things he said… the… it was... " he breath in, quick and hard and he squeezes his eyes shuts because he's starting to panic. He can feel it. He has to do this, he has to push through.

Dan rises to his feet, catches his as he walks by, pulling and tugging until Phil is cradled against his chest. His face buried in Dan's shoulder, Dan's large hand smoothing up and down his back.

He feels pathetic. It's just a breakup, something people go through every day. But he knows that his anxiety means his reacts differently, he's heard people tell him time and time again that his reaction is valid. Because Charlie had essentially fucked with his entire career, his whole life, all of his friends. So many of them believed him, he lost a lot of people. But it's hard for Phil to rationalise that when he's feeling small and silly and like he's overacting even though he can't help the way his breath comes in spurts, all bound up in his lungs, sporadic and laboured.

"It's okay…" he says, low in his ear. "I've got you. I know… I saw… it's okay. It's over."

"It was easier to go along with it," Phil sobs, "because then at least I wouldn’t get hurt. At least then… by then I just wanted it over. I didn't want YouTube or anything. It was a really… a really…"

"Shhh," Dan soothes. He flutters a hand to Phil's cheek, lifting to press their foreheads together. "It's okay."

"It was a bad time. I… didn't come out of it very well."

"You disappeared," Dan says. "For a little while."

Phil reaches out, folds his arms around Dan's waist and pulls him close, liking the nearness of him, the familiar shape of him, when he feels like this. His heartbeat is slowing, a little, bit by bit.

"I wanted to quit completely. Some stuff… happened."

"Do you want to…"

"Yes," Phil insists. "I want to tell you all of it. I don't want anything… all of it. I need you to know."

Dan pauses, runs his thumb across Phil's cheekbone. "Can I kiss you? I want to… but not if you're… I don't want to make it worse."

Phil nods, leans forward, bring their mouths together. It's fleeting, a tiny fluttery thing across Phil's lips. He feels himself reset a little. Dan isn't magic, he can't kiss away Phil's panic attack but it does give Phil something to focus on, and it's reassuring to know that Dan is still here. After all of this, after hearing most of it, he's still here.

"When you're ready," Dan says.

"I just… it was stupid. It sounds a lot worse than it was." He pulls away a little bit, needing space to tell his story. Dan lets him go. "I just had some bad days right after. I tried to stay off Twitter and away from what everyone was saying but… it was harder than I thought it would be. I just… went to bed. Honestly, that's all it was I was just so tired of everything, it felt like the world was too bright and too loud and wherever I went there was just… noise. People attacking me. So I went to bed. For about a week."

Dan nods, clearly a little perplexed.

"I didn't eat," Phil clarifies, "I barely drank water I got… I went to bed but I didn't sleep. I was dehydrated and exhausted and having a kind of extended panic attack. Eventually my parents got too worried and ended up taking me to A & E. I guess I was pretty out of it because they admitted me, just a for a little bit while they gave me some fluids and stuff. I wasn't like… crazy or suicidal or… you know, I was… lucky. But it wasn't… good."

"Phil…" Dan says, reaching for him again before deciding not to. "Sorry. God, I'm so sorry that happened to you… I… it's so stupid but I wish I'd been around to… Have you been… since we… I mean... "

"A bit," Phil nods. He isn't going to lie to Dan now. "But I have… while I was at the hospital they had people I talked to. I learned, some stuff. I'm not always the best at remembering but I have… like PJ and my mum and stuff. They know. So they're good about…"

"Would… Could I…" Dan tips his head a little to the side, "I want to help. I want to be there for you like that."

"You're already really great at it," Phil says, "You don't need to do any more than you already do. I don't want to be like a… full time job for people. I don't want you to be... "

"I want to," Dan says, simply.

Phil just looks at him for a moment, shaking his head. "Where did you come from Dan Howell?"

Dan smiles, a bit, Phil watches it unfolding on his face the way that it does, lighting it up until he's glowing.

"Nowhere special."

Phil can't believe that.

"I was… after the hospital I had all these systems in place to function. They weren't the healthiest and I'm sure the people I talked to there wouldn't have recommended them as they mostly entailed keeping everyone and everything at arm's length but… it meant I could rejoin the world a little bit. I could exist in it anyway. I could make videos and talk to my audience, as long as it was all on my terms, as long as I didn't interact too much."

Phil shrugs a tiny smile of his own appearing. He feels a little lighter, and his heart rate is back to normal. He can feel it all like a weight lifted off his chest, he can breathe again.

"Then you came along. And… I couldn't… I tried. God, I tried. But you were something else, Dan. I couldn't help myself. It just got, messy. Because I didn't… I still don't… know how to deal with all of this like a grown up. I'm not… equipped to deal with how I feel about you."

"And how do you feel about me?" Dan asks.

"Dan…"

"It was real, Phil. I don't care what Charlie says, or what the stupid voice in your head has to say. It was real."

"I know. I was happy."

"Me too. You have no idea how happy I was. Can't we just be happy, Phil? Please?"

He wishes it were that simple. He wishes they could just draw a line under everything and go back to how things were before, but it would never be that easy. It can't be.

"There will always be Twitter, and viewers, and people shipping. I'm never going to want to put it all out there, I'm always going to want to… hide."

Dan shakes his head and for a terrifying moment Phil knows that this is it, this is the moment that Dan walks away. He wouldn't blame him.

"Phil, I'll never fucking Tweet again if that's what you want. You think any of that matters to me more than you do?"

"Don't be absurd."

"Okay, okay. That's extreme… but the sentiment is the same. Phil… I don't want people all up in my business either. If you don't want me to mention you at all, or if as far as the world is concerned we're just best friends, then that's fine with me. I mean, if that was all you actually ever wanted from me, I'd be fine with that too. I just care about you. Alot. I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to lose you either," Phil says, "And I don't want you to have to like, lie. I just… If we were going to… I want to keep it to us."

"I understand that, and I… I never want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

"I'm probably never going to be okay," Phil warns, "I'll always be… like this."

"Phil," Dan moves towards him, folding his arms around Phil's waist and pulling him close once again. He's been in and out of Dan's space today but he slides his hands up Dan's arms, over the curve of his bicep and on to his shoulders. He feels settled here, safe. "I don't want you to be anyone you're not. I only… I mean, I just hope that you talk to me. Just… I want to be there for you."

"And if it gets too much for you?"

Dan shakes his head. "I promise I'll talk to you too. I'll tell you when I need space, and you tell me when you need help, or you need space too. Can… I don't want to push you. I really want this to work. But I think… it'll probably only work if we actually talk to each other about this stuff. Not talking is what got us in trouble in the first place. Can you do that? Do you think it's… is that okay?"

It's scary. The prospect of staying this open. Of leaving this place and not closing down that piece of him again, not crawling in to his bed and saying goodbye to world, but remaining a part of it. This is what it means, to care for someone the way he does Dan, to let them in, to be vulnerable. Dan's eyes are warm and they don't demand an answer, Phil knows he could step out of Dan's arms right now and Dan would let him go. He doesn't want to.

"It's okay,I can do that." Phil says. "You know… no one has wanted me for me before."

"I do," Dan say.

"Yeah," Phil nods, "I think… I know. I believe it."

He huffs out a laugh, incredulous at himself. He does. He really believes it.

"I want you too," he says to Dan. "Let's just be happy."

"Okay," Dan smiles and leans in, only half way, waiting for Phil. "Let's be happy."

Phil lets the world shift a bit to accommodate the new way of things, feels the himself smile and lean in, meeting him in the middle.

Dan's lips are soft and welcoming. Phil sighs into his mouth and Dan lets his tongue flick out against the join of his lips. He parts to let him in, tipping his head and moving closer, lifting a hand up to the back of Dan's neck, holding him there. He can feel the way Dan's hand presses against the base of his spine, the warmth of his broad palm seeping through his shirt.

There is a vibration on Phil's hip and they part, Dan laughing.

"Shit," he says, "It's my phone."

"Anyone important?"

"Fuck, Phil! The show! We forgot about the show."

Phil's eyes go wide. He'd been so busy baring his soul that he'd forgotten they were there to do the radio show.

"We have to get upstairs, I mean we have time but they're… we have to go now. I'm sorry."

Phil laughs, "That's okay."

"Will you… after the show. Come back to mine?"

Phil nods. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"I'm glad I met you," Dan says, moving toward the door. "You know, finally. It was getting a little ridiculous that we kept nearly-meeting."

Phil follows him out of the door. "I'm glad too," he says, "but… what if we hadn't?"

Dan holds his hand out and Phil doesn't hesitate to take it, slipping his fingers in between Dan's as they walk the halls. He does drop it as they enter the studio, but they share a warm fond look as he does and Phil knows Dan is okay with him wanting to keep it just to them. He won't push Phil past the point that he's comfortable with. He doesn't know if it will always be that way, but it's what he needs for now.

"I wouldn't have let that happen," Dan says as they get ready to go on air, "I'd have met you eventually."

"Yeah?" Phil says, "We wouldn't just have been ships passing in the night forever?"

"Definitely not," Dan says, "It would have happened. At some point."

And somehow, Phil believes him.

#phanfic #phanfic au #phan #dnp #dan and phil #phanfiction #my fics #fanfic #fanfiction #ships that pass in the night

[psychoangiethings]

You’re gonna be fine

"You're gonna be fine."

Those simple words were written on piece of paper. She had heard them before. Now she's been reading them. Simple words from him. From her partner, big brother, best friend and a man she loved. She thought to herself "I'm never gonna be fine. Not without this. Without us." Whatever they ever had with his death it was over.

×××

When she kissed him for the first time... She was a little bit drunk. That day started as a shit and as a shit it continued and also ended. They were in a pub, their pub, and she was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't count drinks. That golden liquor which, with slightly burning feeling, run down her neck and Charlie just sat beside her and looked at her with that unreadable expression.

They were partners for nearly five years. And because of her stupidity he got shot today - a bullet scratched his ribs on the left side - very close to his heart. He had there twelve stitches and it hurt like a hell. She could tell, because he was pale and on his forehead there were drops of sweat when he tried to walk normally.

Now, when they both sat at bar, his face was calm - no pain.

"Charlie, I am sorry. It was my fault."

He moved closer to her. "Liv, it's not your fault. You can't see behind the corner. I am alive - it hurts like hell and I will be bitching about it for some time, but I'll live." He smiled.

"But you could be dead." It was just a fact. She drank up her drink and looked at him - eyes filled with tears.

"I am not. See?" He grasped her hands and put them to his face. He was freshly shaved and still stunk from hospital of disinfectant. And she wasn't used to this behavior of his. Not that he usually hasn't been nice but... Just professional care, right? Nothing like this. And that little gesture of grasping her hands to prove her brain he is very much alive and right beside her, broke something in her body, her heart and mind.

So she kissed him while he was still holding her hands. The response was immediate - soft lips opened and... Shit! What the fuck am I doing?!

Olivia just quickly grabbed her things and stormed out of pub.

The day after he tried to ask her What was that?, but she just shrugged her shoulders with Sorry, I was drunk and don't remember a thing.

"Oookey." His tune didn't sound like he truly believed her - but Charlie never asked again so Olivia didn't care.

Francis didn't need to know she sat whole night in bed, wondering why would she do such stupid thing - like kiss him. When the sun started rising, Olivia was still wide awake, mumbling something about wrong decisions and total eclipse of her brain.

×××

Today was the D day... Oh, wrong - the F day. F like a funeral, Charlie's funeral. It looked like even heaven knew about it. It was cloudy and at the moment Olivia left her apartment, it started to rain. She didn't have time to go back and take her umbrella, so when Dunham get to cemetary, from her wet hair were falling drops and her coat was completely soaked.

Must be really nice look at me. On top of that with those big bags under my eyes...

There were some people - among them their boss, Peter with his father, Astrid, Nina Sharp, some co-workers who knew Charlie pretty well. And then there was Sonia. The wife. The widow. They had a perfect marriage. Charlie was always honest with her, but Olivia believed, that he was not SO honest to told his own wife about her weak moments.

×××

"What's up, Liv?" Voice behind her back startled her. Deep, husky voice. Olivia knew it very well.

"I'm fine, Charlie," was the simplest reply. But Dunham knew him pretty well - Francis won't let it go.

"Liv, I can see something's bothering you. And if it's about the wound-"

"It's not about the wound."

The room fell into silence. Uncomfortable silence. Charlie took a few steps to her only to saw her back straighten. He stopped few centimeters from her. "Liv, what I've been telling you our whole partnership when things went to real shit?"

She bent her head. "You're gonna be fine." What he didn't know was, that this whole sentence  was something like a wishful thinking to her.

"It always came true, didn't it?"

"I lied to you."

"I know."

Olivia turned to him with eyes wide open. Yes, they were partners for long time but Charlie told her many times: "Dunham, one day I will find out what's going on in your head and then... Then will mankind celebrate. You're quite bizzare, know that?" And her answer was always the same: "Francis, you're not that good detective." Maybe wrong way of thinking - maybe he was good enough. And now Olivia didn't know what to expect. He was silent, she heard him breathing and that was all. Not a single word.

His face was calm, his whole body was calm! There were no signs of anger or tension. And Olivia couldn't force herself to look into his eyes - this was always hard for her and really uncomfortable. "Listen, I'm sorry. It was easier to pretend it never happened. I was drunk, scared of the moment when I nearly lost you and these latest days I still have it before my eyes."

And Charles fucking Francis just stood in front of her with that fucking smile of his.

"Can you say somethin at least?" Patience never was one of her pluses. The shake of his head was the only answer she got. "Fine." She just got past him and intended to go on, but Charlie grasped her elbow and stopped her.

Air in the room felt somehow different, heart in her chest started beating so fast it scared her. And Francis hadn't that stupid smile on face - he was looking at her lips instead. Before Olivia could do anything, he kissed her. It wasn't sloppy nor with taste of alcohol. Slowly they moved to one of many desks in the room and Olivia found herself leaning againts it with Charlie's hands on her hips. The kiss reminded her of first summer rain, like he was savouring her.

"I lo-"

Beep!

Shit... So lost in the moment, she almost did another stupid thing.

Francis looked at his phone and took few steps aside. Before he left the room, with phone near his ear, he just said: "I've found out. We'll celebrate."

×××

Even now she still didn't know if this was the last kiss from the true agent Francis or not. Olivia hadn't the nerve to try found it out. When the real Charlie died? What of this was real? Did he know about her feelings? Why didn't she recognize it wasn't Charlie anymore?

Raindrops were still falling, a small piece of paper in her hand was crumpled and probably perfectly wet but it didn't matter. At work they sent time to time notes to each other. Right now it sounded like a good idea to say goodbye that way. To the real Charlie, her Charlie, her partner.

You're gonna be fine. - That was his handwriting. And below that...

 Hope you are enjoying that party for finding out... Love you, Liv

 Maybe she won't have nightmares anymore.

#fringe #olivia dunham #charlie francis #olivia dunham x charlie francis #olivia x charlie #olivia/charlie #olivia dunham/charlie francis

[xmagicxpenguinx]

Hey hey hey can you give me some music recommendations? I like most music so don’t worry about like what genres and such to focus on just recommend some favorites

Hey hey hey anon! I can give you some music recommendations! I like a lot of music, 187 different artists according to my Spotify. You requested some of my favourites, and quite frankly I have a lot of favourites. These are my go to songs, the ones that can make a shit day better. Also I’m sorry that I took so long to reply to you, I hope you like the songs I have listed and it isn’t too disappointing.

🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶

One Direction: 18, Ready to Run, Fools Gold, Night Changes, Illusion (that song is so underrated its sad), Infinity, Love You Goodbye, Wolves, End Of The Day, Diana, Story of My Life, Don’t Forget Where You Belong, Through the Dark, Half A Heart, Why Don’t We Go There, Home, Perfect (Stripped), Last First Kiss, Rock Me, They Don’t Know About Us, Nobody Compares, Moments, I Should Have Kissed You, their version of Torn and Teenage Dirtbag and the song they sold to a 14 year old Just Can’t Let Her Go. (who am I kidding every song they released.)

Shawn Mendes: Life Of The Party, Kid In Love, Imagination, This Is What It Takes, Lost, Three Empty Words, Lights On, Honest, Patience, Bad Reputation, Roses and Show You.

Troye Sivan: TALK ME DOWN, HEAVEN, YOUTH, LOST BOY, for him, SUBURBIA, BLUE, The Fault in Our Stars, Fun and Happy Little Pill.

BTS: Spring Day, Pied Piper, Dimple, DNA, Best Of Me, Butterfly, Autumn Leaves and Run

5 Seconds of Summer: Daylight, their version of American Idiot, Amnesia, Rejects, Wrapped Around Your Finger, Just Saying, Disconnected, Story Of Another Us, Broken Home, The Space Between a Rock and a Hard Place, Safety Pin, San Francisco, 18, Long Way Home, Heartbreak Girl, Beside You and Out of my Limit.Andy Black: his whole solo album is amazing and it features Ashton Irwin, Gerard and Mikey Way, and was produced by John Feldman. If that doesn’t make you want to listen to it, I fear that nothing will.

Black Veil Brides: Mortician’s Daughter, Love Isnt Always Fair, Ritual, Rebel Love Song and Fallen Angels.

Panic! At the Disco: Northern Downpour, Nine In The Afternoon, Miss Jackson, This Is Gospel, Girls/Girls/Boys, Casual Affair, Collar Full, Memories, Emperor’s New Clothes, Let’s Kill Tonight, Turn Off The Lights, New Perspective, LA Devotee, Golden Days, and Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time.

My Chemical Romance: The Sharpest Lives, I Don’t Love You, Disenchanted, Famous Last Words, Na Na Na, Bulletproof Heart, Sing, Planetary (GO!), The Only Hope For Me Is You, Helena, I’m Not Ok, The Ghost Of You, It’s Not A Fashion Statement It’s a Deathwish, Cemetery Drive, Fake Your Death and Teenagers.

Avril Lavigne: Rock N Roll, 17, Bitchin’ Summer, Hello Heartache, Here’s To Never Gowing Up, When You’re Gone, Innocence, Contagious and You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet

Halsey: New Americana, Hurricane, Roman Holiday, Ghost, Strange Love, Castle, Is There Somewhere, Empty Gold, 100 Letters, Now Or Never, Bad At Love, Srangers, Don’t Play and Angel On Fire.

Charlie Puth: Losing My Mind, Up All Night, Left Right Left, Then There’s You, Some Type Of Love, River, Does It Feel, Dangerously, How Long, Attention and We Don’t Talk Anymore.

Fall Out Boy: American Beauty/American Psycho, The Kids Aren’t Alright, Jet Pack Blues, Fourth Of July, Immortals, Sugar We’re Goin Down, Thnks Fr Th Mmrs, I Don’t Care, 20 Dollar Nose Bleed, Rat a Tat, Save Rock And Roll, HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T and The Last Of The Real Ones.

Ed Sheeran: Holy crap anything that he has released I love. To list everything would just be the tracklist to every album and ep.Little Mix: Little Me, About The Boy, Love Me Like You, Black Magic, I Love You, Love Me Or Leave Me, I Won’t, DNA, Change Your Life, Wings, How Ya Doin’?, Reggaeton Lento, No More Sad Songs, Oops, You Gotta Not, Your Love, If I Get My Way and Nobody But You.

Olly Murs: Dance With Me Tonight, Beautiful To Me (the music video is my religion) Love Shouldn’t Be This Hard, Kiss Me, I Blame Hollywood, A Million More Years, Right Place Right Time, Dear Darlin’, One Of These Days, You Don’t Know Love, Grow Up, Love You More, Back Around, Unpredictable, Flaws and Heart Skips A Beat.

The Vamps: Wild Heart, Somebody To You (both versions) Oh Cecilia, On The Floor, Can We Dance, Middle Of The Night, Paper Hearts, Same To You, Cheater, I Found A Girl, Volcano and All Night. (also I was reading a book on Wattpad and I listened to The Vamps every time I read the book and it was so fitting…? Like all the lyrics made sense at the right time. And for the whole book I imagined the male character as Brad. Now when I hear The Vamps I am reminded about of book. Idk why I am sharing that.)

Taylor Swift: YES OK I LIKE TAYLOR SWIFT AND HARRY STYLES DON’T HATE ME PLEASE!! (I don’t think haylor was a good thing for either of them though) Jump Then Fall, Fearless, Fifteen, Love Story, Tell Me Why, You’re Not Sorry, Red, 22, Everything Has Changed, Girl At Home, All Too Well, The Last Time, Getaway Car, This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things, Today Was A Fairytale, Style, This Love, Wonderland, You Are In Love, New Romantics, Mine, Sparks Fly, Back To December :’(, Long Live, Ours, Mary’s Song, Our Song and Teardrops On My Guitar. (Also Taylor Swift by Taylor Swift was my first cd, I was so obsessed with her and its because of her I got emotionally invested in music, so thanks Taylor for ruining my life and also improving it.

#asks #anon #music #i need help i think #lemme know if you want more #idk i have listed enough

[blissfulcastiel]

Out of Step

Fandom Writing Challenge | blissfulcastiel Prompt: Marching Band Pairings: Destiel Tags: high school au, marching band, enemies, enemies to friends drummer!dean, color guard!castiel AO3 - Beta-ed by @adoringjensen <3

“Everyone reset back to set one. Come on, move with purpose! We haven’t got all day!” Crowley bellows into his megaphone from the top of the scaffolding tower. Jesus Christ. Every year, Dean hides that stupid thing but Crowley always seems to find it. Looks like he’ll just have to go for the batteries. “Dean, can you please take one for the team and ask for a water break?” Jo pants beside him as they hustle back to set one. “Yeah, we’re dying here, Winchester,” Charlie agrees as she jogs up beside them. Dean sighs dramatically. “Why does it have to be me?” “Because Crowley has a soft spot for you,” Jo says with a smirk. He rolls his eyes. “That’s not true.” “Sorry brother, but it is,” Benny calls, already in position on his dot about five yards from them. Dean groans, scrubbing a hand down his face where droplets of sweat are beading on the surface. “Fine.” Jo and Charlie share a conspiring smile before racing ahead to their dots. Dean slows down, hovering around the fifty yard line where The Tower is set up. It stands twelve feet tall, with Crowley barely adding any height on the highest platform. Chuck sits silently, as usual, on the lower platform which is just above head level. Maybe Dean can get away with asking Chuck instead. “Uh, hey Chuck? It’s been about two hours since our last water break. Think we can take five minutes after this run?” Chuck glances down at Dean, looking frantic at the question. God, after four years of being in this band, Dean still has no idea how this guy is even the director. “Winchester!” Fuck.

Dean cranes his head back, hand cupping over his eyes to see Crowley through the harsh glare of the sun. “Yeah?” “I thought I said to get to set one.” “I know, but we need a water break. Unless you want a bunch of kids passing out on this field, we need at least ten minutes to sit and cool off.” Dean feels like he’s flirting with death by demanding instead of asking, but how else is he supposed to convince Crowley to give them a break? Crowley glares down at him and for once, the whole field is silent. Dean heard a few gasps at the way he spoke to their assistant director, but now everyone’s holding their breath. “Fine. We run this one more time you all get your precious water break,” Crowley spits out. Dean nods, hiding his smile until his back is turned. People whisper their gratitude as he passes them on his way to his dot, and it lifts him up a little. Even if it means putting his neck out there, he’ll do anything he can to help out his bandmates. They run the first five sets, and it’s far from being perfect, but it’s not a complete disaster. As soon as Crowley’s done lecturing them about terrible marching techniques and some forgetting their dots all together, everyone clears the practice field to fill the front sideline where all their water and belongings sit. Dean collapses next to Sam, who’s busy guzzling down water. “So Sammy, how’s day one of band camp?” Sam takes a few more gulps before answering him. “Hell. That Crowley guy is a jerk. Why did you put up with this all four years?” “Because believe it or not, it’s a lot of fun,” Charlie says as she flops down beside them, Jo, and Benny right behind her. Dean nods, pulling his water bottle from Charlie’s cooler and taking a big gulp. “The first couple o‘ days are always rough,” Benny offers empathetically. Sam looks down at his watch and groans. “It’s only eleven?” “Hey, only an hour until lunch!” Jo says excitedly, which everyone chimes in with. Dean laughs at his brother’s confused reaction. He remembers his first year of band camp. Being in the thick heat, thirsty and exhausted, an hour seems like eternity. But now that he’s gone through it three previous times, an hour is the homestretch. Sam gets to his feet. “I’m gonna go sit by Barry. See you at lunch?” Dean reaches up to ruffle his hair but Sam bats his hand away before he can, causing him to huff. “Yeah, bitch, see ya.” Sam grumbles out a ‘Jerk’ before walking a ways down the sideline. “Oh god – here they come,” Charlie singsongs. Dean doesn’t need to glance over to know who she’s talking about. Color guard. Dean’s always happy when the guard girls join the band. He’s kinda got a reputation with them. He turns his head to watch them make their way closer, but is pulled up short when he sees a new face. “Since when did we get a guard guy?” he wonders aloud, sitting up to get a better look. Not that color guard is strictly for girls, but it’s always a special sighting to see a guy in guard. Dean would’ve definitely known if a guy joined guard, especially if he looks as good as this one. “Must be the new guy. I think he’s brothers with the new drum major too,” Benny answers. That’s right, there was actually some drama around that. People thought it was unfair for this Gabriel guy to come in as a senior and get chosen for drum major, but he must be that good. There was talk he had a brother – half-brother? – but Dean never heard anything more about it. “Huh,” is all Dean can manage to say because holy fuck, the guy is seriously hot. His shorts are slung low around his hips, practically teasing Dean with the little bit of exposed tanned skin that his ratty looking T-shirt isn’t covering. “Dean, please don’t scare him on his first day,” Jo sighs. “What? I didn’t even do anything.” “Oh please, you’ve got that look,” Charlie crows. “Besides, you’ve basically run Kali’s patience nonexistent. She doesn’t want you anywhere near the guard.” Well, he can’t exactly deny that. Kali hates him for ‘causing distractions’ to her girls. No doubt she’ll hate him even more if he makes any advances towards the new guy. In the past, she couldn’t do anything about it. Except now that she’s been graduated a year and is now the guard instructor, she actually has power to keep him away. Which only means he has to be a little more careful. “I don’t have any look. I’m just gonna be polite and introduce myself.” He gets to his feet, ignoring the warnings his friends call after him. The closer he gets, the harder his heart beats in his chest and he feels eyes burning into him as he approaches. Man, is he actually nervous to talk to this guy? That’s… weird. Before he knows it, he’s standing behind the guy, who’s staring down at the set book hanging on a string tied around his waist. Shit, that glistening skin is even better close up… He’s about to turn around and jump ship when the guy looks up, glancing over his shoulder and pinning Dean in place with a pair of vibrant blue eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Um, hello.” Damn, that voice too. All deep and gravely, and... “Hi. Um, I’m Dean. Dean –“ “Winchester,” the guy finishes for him. It’s probably safe to say the guard girls warned him about the infamous Dean Winchester. Dean laughs uneasily. “Yeah, that’s me. Heard you’re new, thought I’d come introduce myself.” The new guy quirks an eyebrow. “And that is the extent of your intentions with this conversation?” Dean’s eyebrows knit together. “Uh –“ “Because if so, it’s nice to meet you, Dean. However, if what I’ve been told is true, I want to make it clear I’m not interested in any advances you may be planning. You can save your breath, my time won’t be wasted, and we can both be on our way.” Dean’s mouth drops open, absolutely speechless. What the fuck? He doesn’t even know the guy’s name and barely got a sentence out before the immediate rejection. Dean can’t exactly blame him for saying what he said, given Dean’s track record, but still. Now Dean’s a little peeved, his confidence stinging. “That’s some ego you have, buddy,” he replies coolly. “Just thought I’d be a nice guy and welcome you to the band. But whatever.” New Guy shrugs. “I just wanted to make myself clear. I’m not interested in having any relations with you.” Ouch. Dean scoffs. “Wasn’t planning on pursuing,” A terrible, terrible lie, “But hey, if it makes you feel better to think so.” He spins around and stalks away, ignoring the low whistles and taunts being thrown after him. He basically got rejected in front of the whole band because everyone’s stopped to watch on their way back to the field. “Told you to stay away,” Jo tuts when he passes by. “Get to your set, Jo,” he orders, using his section leader voice. He realizes he’s being an ass and he’ll apologize later for it, but he doesn’t need salt rubbed in his wounds right now. He spends the next hour silently seething as he focuses on learning drill and thanking the universe that New Guy’s dot is on the opposite end of the field so Dean doesn’t have to see him. When lunch comes around, the food and air conditioning calms him a bit, but he’s still grumpy. No one dares tease him about what happened. When the band stays inside to learn music, Dean takes the drumline to the field house to practice their music in peace. He typically runs his sectionals more relaxed, but he needs to forget about what happened earlier, so today there’s no goofing off. Even Victor, his co-section leader who’s usually the bad cop between the two of them, isn’t happy with the way Dean’s running their sectional. When the guard comes in to claim the field house, Dean brushes past them without a second look, calling for his section to grab their shit and hustle to the practice field. The last two hours of their eight hour day is spent trying to pair music to the drill they learned today. It’s pretty disastrous, but Crowley does call a compliment to the drumline for ‘sounding the least horrible’. So that’s what happens when they actually work in sectionals. When four o’clock rolls around and the band is dismissed to go home, Dean calls his section together. “Listen guys, I know I was kinda an ass today –“ “We all have our off days, Dean,” Garth offers sympathetically. He can’t help but smile at that. “But you all did good work. We even got a half-assed compliment from Crowley. Rest up for tomorrow.” He claps each of them on the shoulder before gathering their stuff from the front sideline and walking back towards the school. Dean’s about to follow before someone calls his name. When he turns, he’s met with a shorter guy with bronze hair and golden eyes, lips twisted into a smirk. “Can I help you?” “Heard my brother burned you good today.” And there goes his relatively okay mood. Dean scowls. “He’s a real peach.” The guy laughs, throwing his head back and Dean rolls his eyes. “That’s Cassie for you. Name’s Gabriel, by the way. I’m the new drum major.” Dean glances at his outreached hand and shakes it begrudgingly. “Guess you know who I am.” Gabriel motions for them to start walking back to the school. “Sure do. Cassie told me all about it at lunch.” Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “His name’s Cassie?” “Nickname. Castiel would probably kill you if you called him that though.” Dean licks his lips, tempted to try the unique name out for himself but withholds. No, he’s not going to find anything interesting about the guy because he’s an asshole. “Well, you can tell him to relax. I have no interest in egotistical dicks,” Dean says, sounding more bitter than he intended to. “He’s actually a nice guy. Castiel can be blunt sometimes, but you can’t say he isn’t honest.” “The dude can say and do what he wants, I don’t care,” Dean grunts, wanting to be done with this conversation already. Gabriel grins. “Right. You don’t care. Anyway, just thought I’d personally introduce myself before I’d have to reject you in front of the whole band too. See ya bright and early tomorrow, Bucko!” Dean stops in his tracks, watching Gabriel laugh to himself while he saunters ahead. He’s not sure who the bigger dick is between the two of them. It doesn’t matter. Dean’s got better things to do than sulk and seethe over the two of them.

*****

The second day of band camp is better than the first. Dean decided he’s not about to show Castiel how bruised his ego is after yesterday. Screw that guy. Instead, he focuses on Crowley ordering them through basics block the first half of the morning and learning drill the second half. When lunch comes around, he doesn’t even think to seek Castiel out. He laughs with his friends and beats Benny in a competition of who can shove the most grapes in their mouth. Which, of course, earns him a few suggestive comments from Jo and Charlie. He even gets in some good natured teasing when Sam decides to go talk to Jess, one of the freshmen guard girls. Sam isn’t amused, but Dean still smiles proudly after him as he goes. This is the band camp he’s come to love after four years.

Like all good things though, his mood comes to a crashing halt after lunch.

While the band rehearses the show music in the band room, it’s time for the drumline to part for the hour to work on their stuff. Dean brings them to the field house, the spot they always claim, but when he walks through the doors, he stops in his tracks when his eyes rest on Castiel. He’s not alone though. From a quick scan, it seems maybe all the freshmen are with him because Dean recognizes Jess among the baby faced girls.

“Hate to interrupt, but we claimed this space,” he announces from across the room, voice echoing in the large space between them. Castiel glances over at him, the eye roll visible even from where Dean’s standing.

“Kali said it was fine we work here.”

Dean saunters closer, trying to keep up his air of confidence despite the fact that his heart is racing in his chest. “Did she now? Last I checked, the guard practices in the grassy area outside the band room.”

Castiel holds his gaze steadily. “We needed space to spread out. The freshmen require further help and it was too hectic with me trying to teach them while Kali works with the others.”

“And since when are you section leader? Where’s Anna? Or Rachel?” Dean challenges, crossing his arms.

Castiel scoffs. “Not that it’s any of your concern how our section runs, but they asked me to help out. I may be new here, Dean, but I’m not incompetent.”

Dean just smirks. “Well, since you’re new, I’ll be the one to tell you that the fieldhouse belongs to drumline after lunch.”

“Dean, it’s fine. This is a large enough space for everyone,” Victor says, stepping up beside him. Dean shoots him a look, because he definitely doesn’t want to share anything with Castiel, let alone be in the same room.

“Yeah man, we don’t mind,” Ash chimes in.

Castiel nods gratefully. “Thank you. We’d prefer not to have to waste more time finding a new spot.”

Victor simply nods and leads the way to the other side of the fieldhouse, but Dean’s still standing in front of Castiel, glaring at him. He expects Castiel to give him a dirty look and turn away, but the bastard stands his ground, staring right back at Dean.

“Alright, alright. Put the rulers away, boys,” Jo says, nudging Dean to move.

Dean snickers under his breath as he turns away. “Hope you have a strong voice because it gets pretty loud in here.”

Dean keeps true to his promise. The snare drum can already be a loud sound, but he may or may not kick it up a notch just to make Castiel’s sectional that much closer to hell. He glances over at him every so often just to see if he’s getting under Castiel’s skin, but if he is, the guy doesn’t show it. Okay, maybe Dean’s also sneaking peeks at the way graceful way Castiel works his flag. The way he stops to help if any of the girls are struggling and the way he offers them encouraging smiles along the way.

God, he hates this guy so much.

Sectionals couldn’t end soon enough – or far too soon? Regardless, it’s back out into the sweltering afternoon heat to join the rest of the band on the practice field. Guard never shows up though, which is more than fine with Dean.

*****

The days start to blur together. After the first couple days, band camp is pretty routine.

Wake up at seven. Get him and Sammy to school by 7:45 because in band, early is on time and on time is late. Spend just about an hour in basics block. Spend the remaining time learning new drill. Guard joins them occasionally. Lunch at twelve. Sectionals at one. Then for the last two-ish hours, they review the drill learned in the morning with instruments, even if they don’t play. Guard always joins them.

Just as it’s guaranteed for Crowley to yell and push everyone to a near breaking point every day, the same goes for Dean and Castiel sassing each other. If Dean’s standing bored on his dot with his snare while Crowley’s focused on a different section of the field and his friends are too far away to goof off with, he’ll lazily twirl his sticks or toss them in the air. He completely blames the heat for when one fumbles out of his hand and with a groan, he has to either awkwardly crouch to pick it up or duck out of his harness, which he’s almost always too lazy to do. Somehow, Castiel is always nearby when it happens. The bastard is never shy to point out when Dean drops something. What’s even more annoying is that Dean’s never seen Cas drop his flag to return the sentiment.

The way Dean gets his jabs in is when Cas misses his dot and nearly collides with someone or screws up the form of the set. These include but aren’t limited to: “Hey, at least you’re only one yard line off of your dot. Hopefully you’ll get it by the end of the season”, or “I don’t know man, I think you forgot to point your toes that time”, plus countless others. They both get creative with their jabs.

No one seems to know what to make of their quips at each other, but they’re smart enough not to get in the middle of it. Michael, the head drum major, was the only one who stepped in to tell them to shut up when they started getting especially spirited with each other.

Dean thinks there’s no way he can hate Castiel any more than he already does until he’s proven wrong on day five.

It’s unbearably hot today, the weather supposedly spiking to mid-90s. The heat never stops Crowley from keeping them outside though. Given that the outside is practically an oven slowly baking them all to their deaths, some of the girls are marching in sports bras while guys are bare chested all together. Dean’s tempted to follow suit, but he’s not one to flaunt his body. Instead, he spends the next water break pouring one of his extra water bottles over his head, the cold drops rolling down his back before getting soaked up by his shirt. It’s actually better because the fabric clings to his body and it’ll take longer for the sun to suck away his chilled relief. It especially feels nice when he runs his fingers through his hair, the cool droplets finding their way to his scalp and cooling where the sun’s been beating down all day.

“Looks like you got an audience, Chief,” Benny murmurs to him. Dean furrows his eyebrows, following Benny’s subtle eye flicker until he reaches the source, which happen to be blue eyes that instantly dart away. Dean’s heart stutters because what the hell? Was Cas just staring at him?

Dean scoffs. “Please. Cas thinks he’s too good to even look my way.”

Benny raises an eyebrow. “Cas, huh?”

He waves his hand dismissively, trying not to blush. “Castiel, whatever. That’s not the point.”

Benny snickers under his breath and goes back to talking about their plans tonight to gather their friends and head to The Roadhouse, which is the bar run by Jo’s mother, Ellen. They’re obviously not allowed to drink, but nothing can beat Ellen’s burgers and milkshakes. Dean’s having a little trouble paying attention to the conversation though, which Charlie, Jo, Sam and Kevin have chimed in to. His focus keeps slipping away to peek over at Cas – Castiel.

Looks like some of the guard, mostly upperclassmen, brought out their rifles today. Like the rest of the band, they’re all lounging on the sideline, drinking water and chatting with each other. All except Castiel and Meg, a senior who Dean’s never been too fond of. Her favorite pastime seems to be getting under his skin and flirting with him just because she knows it annoys him. But he’s noticed her taking quite a liking to Cas.

They’re both standing, Meg doing lazy drop spins while Cas does some small tosses; singles and doubles. Meg is talking to Cas while he does it, sometimes resulting in a smile or a roll of his eyes. He keeps using his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face in between tosses before he finally sheds the thing, which has Dean nearly choking on the breath he inhales. Thankfully, Jo’s too busy teasing Kevin about being in pit and not having to march while Charlie and Benny are butting heads on whose freshmen are better; the flutes or the trombones. And it seems Jess snuck over to occupy Sam’s attention. No one notices the way Dean has to cough a few times to regain his breath because holy shit, Cas’ body is fucking toned.

Dean’s seen how Cas’ muscles move and shift under his clothes when he stretches and practices his flag work, but there’s no way he could’ve imagined the sight in front of him now. And god, those loose shorts are laying all sorts of low on his hips and it has Dean already half hard in his ‘booty’ shorts, as Sam so kindly referred to them this morning.

To make matters worse, Meg pauses her drop spins to sidle up to him, leaning in close to whisper in Cas’ ear. Castiel looks confused at whatever she says, but a small spark ignites in his expression and he nods. Stepping back, Cas quickly stretches out his arms and rolls his shoulders, taking a few deep breaths.

And so begins the tosses.

He starts off with a single. Then a double. Followed by a triple. Meanwhile, Meg is calling out the numbers, attracting the attention of everyone else. She keeps counting, others starting to join in as Cas tosses a four, a five. Six. Fucking seven. And the fucker nails them all flawlessly! He catches with a strong grip, the strap of the rifle slapping all too appealing between his steady hand and the solid, taped up wood.

“Come on, Clarence. Show us the eight,” Meg crows, arms crossed over her chest with that typical smirk set on her lips. Dean may not be in guard, but he’s dated enough guard girls to know that being able to throw an eight is an impressive accomplishment. Castiel grins, and for a fleeting second, Dean thinks their eyes meet before Cas is bending his knees, pointing the nose of the rifle downwards before letting it sail into the air. It’s as if the whole band stops to hold its breath as they silently count the spins against the glaring sun. All too quickly, the weapon lands solid in Castiel’s waiting hands. Not even a fucking stumble.

Cheers and whistles break out from the group, Charlie being one of the louder ones which is irritating. So much for loyalty. Dean rips his gaze away, his skin getting hot with annoyance and okay, how can anyone not get hot and bothered by that? But the fact that he’s so turned on makes him hate Castiel Novak that much more.

“Fucking show off,” Dean mumbles under his breath before downing more of his water. Benny catches the comment and gives him a look but Dean ignores it. He’s never been so happy to hear Crowley’s grating voice yell for everyone to get set.

*****

The weekend goes by way too quick. The last two days of band camp are always the worst because now’s the point where it gets old standing out in the sun for nearly eight hours a day. Everyone is exhausted. Everyone is sunburned. Everyone is tired of listening to Crowley’s stupid voice demean and order them around.

Dean was able to push Cas’ little stunt from his mind over the weekend, but that all goes away when he sees him again on Monday. He finds himself getting more distracted when guard joins them on the practice field. Well, only by one guard member in particular. Dean only gets more pissed off when it causes him to miss his dot or, being the lead snare, fuck up the tempo because his eyes aren’t on any of the four drum majors. Gabriel teases him for the musical disaster, but Michael, Luke and Raphael are less than pleased. Not to mention Crowley and even Chuck is looking annoyed at his fuck ups. As a result, Dean catches himself taking out his anger by launching harsher jabs at Cas in their usual back and forth exchanges that even Cas starts to look pissed.

Tuesday, the last day, Dean spends fighting hard to stay focused and decides to ignore Cas all together. It works out well for him, actually. He has a good time with his friends, most of whom are seniors like him, and is able to call the last day a success. In fact, Dean’s really bummed about it being his last day of band camp. As much as he hates it sometimes, he loves it. He met his friends here. He made memories here.

To hold onto it just a little bit longer, he offers to cart the drum major’s podiums inside and help pit wheel in the percussion instruments. He promises his friends that he’ll catch up with them to celebrate their last day after he’s done and allows Sam to drive home with Jess and her mom. By the time Dean’s done putting away all the equipment and organizing the drums, nearly everyone is gone.

Dean takes a moment to smile at the empty band room, officially saying his goodbyes to band camp before heading out the door. He stops when he sees Cas a little ways down the sidewalk, phone pressed to his ear, body tensed and his tone doesn’t sound too happy.

“I’ve been waiting an hour. I need you to pick me up –No, Gabriel can’t he – So what am I supposed to do? Walk home?”

Dean hesitates, unable to help tuning into the conversation. Does Cas not have a ride? Where’s Gabriel? He’s the one that always drove them to and from band camp. He snaps out of his wonderings when Cas sighs loudly.

“You know what? Don’t worry about me, Dad. I’ll figure it out myself.” With that, he hangs up and throws the phone onto his duffle bag, hand shaking as he runs it through his dark hair.

Fuck, this is Dean’s cue, isn’t it? Goddammit.

“Uh hey,” he begins, not wanting to startle him.

Cas doesn’t turn. “I’m not in the mood, Dean.”

Dean looks skyward. What cruel god is punishing him right now? Taking a small breath he looks back to Cas and approaches him slowly until he’s beside him, still keeping a fair amount of space between them.

“Do you, um, need a ride?”

Castiel finally looks at him, a scowl on his face. “Why? So you can hold this over my head? So you can tell everyone my father could care less if I’m stranded here? Just please, go away.”

Dean frowns. “Cas, I’m not-“

“I don’t want your help. Now just… just leave me alone.” Cas bends over, shoving his phone in the pocket of his duffle bag before slinging it over his shoulder, reaching down again for his rifle and flag. Dean rolls his eyes.

“Would you stop being a stubborn ass and let me drive you home?” Castiel hesitates although not without a glare, so Dean takes the opportunity to continue. “You’re exhausted and I bet that bag isn’t light by any means. The flag and rifle’s gonna get heavy real quick too. Not to mention your shoulders are burned and you’re probably dehydrated. So why don’t you put aside your pride for five seconds and accept the damn ride.”

Cas’ eyes soften for a moment, though he still doesn’t look happy, and gives a resigned nod.

“Fine.”

Dean nods back.

“Fine.”

When he reaches to for the flag to help carry some of the equipment, Cas brushes past him and towards the parking lot. Dean huffs but follows after, pointing out his car even though Cas already seemed like he knew which one it was. Well, it is kinda hard to miss Baby.

“Careful in shoving your crap in her. I better not find any dents or scratches,” Dean warns, to which Cas mutters something under his breath that he doesn’t catch.

Once they’re both in the Impala, Dean starts her up and pulls out of the school parking lot in the direction Cas said his neighborhood was. They sit in tense silence for several minutes before Dean can’t take it anymore.

“So where’s Gabriel?”

Cas keeps his eyes trained out the window. “He’s had a thing going on with Kali. She finally said yes to let him take her out for ice cream and he didn’t want me ‘cramping his style’.”

Dean can’t help but chuckle, oddly amused at hearing such a phrase come out of Cas’ mouth. The air quotes are more than apparent in his tone.

“I thought I saw Gabe trying to get with Kali. Didn’t know the guy would actually pull it off though. Kali has no tolerance for men. I would know.”

Castiel doesn’t respond and they’re plunged once again into tension and awkwardness. Dean’s about ready to throw himself out of the car if it didn’t mean Baby would get damaged in the process.

“Thank you.”

The two words take him off guard, Cas’ soft voice loud in the silence between them. Dean glances over, but Cas still isn’t looking at him.

“For what?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “You know for what.”

Huh, guess that should’ve been obvious. “Oh. It’s no problem. You’re on the way home, actually.”

“Still. I know we don’t exactly get along well, so I appreciate you doing this.”

Dean snorts. “I’m not that much of a dick.”

Finally Cas looks over at him, eyes sparkling. “Would’ve had me fooled.”

“You’re one to talk. You’re not exactly a picnic either, Cas,” Dean fires back, but unlike the other times they’ve teased each other, it lacks any real heat. Castiel furrows his brows, eyes turning curious and Dean can tell there’s a question perched on those chapped lips, but it’s never asked.

“I apologize for the way we met. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about your intentions,” he says, looking down at his hands. “It’s just that I heard all about Dean Winchester from the girls and they were all so sure you’d try your flirtations on me. I shouldn’t have assumed anything before judging you myself.”

Dean blushes because, well, Cas isn’t wrong. He had every intention of going over there to flirt and he just got pissy for being called out and rejected. “No, it’s okay. To be honest, they were right.” He can see the way Cas’ gaze snaps back to him, but Dean keeps his eyes on the road. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore, though. I’m not interested,” he adds quickly, a lump forming in his throat as the voice in his head screams at him for being a damn liar. But he’s not about to take a second rejection from Cas, especially now that it feels more personal between them.

“Oh.” Cas looks away, slumping a little against the seat. Probably out of relief. “That’s… good.”

Dean forces himself not to look over as he turns onto Cas’ street. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. For the way I acted.”

“I forgive you,” Cas tells him quietly before pointing ahead. “It’s up there – the third house before the stop sign.”

Dean nods and pulls into the driveway, a question gnawing at his stomach. He’s not sure where he and Cas stand. Sure, they apologized, but this doesn’t exactly make them friends. Hell, they could show up at the next band rehearsal and act like this whole conversation never happened. Maybe even revert back to their old ways. Dean would hate for that to happen because whether he’s happy with it or not, he likes Cas. He’d much rather get to know the guy rather than fight with him.

When Dean parks the car, Cas thanks him one last time before moving to get out.

“Cas, wait.” Damn his traitorous mouth.

Castiel looks over his shoulder, tongue ghosting out to lick his lips before answering. “Yes?”

“I, um…” Fuck, why did he do this? “A group of us are heading to The Roadhouse tonight to celebrate the seniors’ last day of band camp. I know you’re still new to the band, but you’re a senior too. You’re welcome to join us. And if you need a ride…”

The question hangs in the air, and there are conflicting emotions flickering across Cas’ face that are sending Dean’s heart into a frantic tantrum. Why did he have to open his big mouth?

“I appreciate the offer, Dean, but I don’t want your pity.”

Dean feels like the air gets punched out of him. “This isn’t a pity invite, Cas. Not at all.”

Cas still looks unsure but smiles nonetheless. “Thank you, but I’m going to have to decline this time.”

Disappointment is bitter in Dean’s stomach. “Okay. You know where we’ll be if you change your mind.”

They stare at each other for a moment, and Dean almost thinks Cas will say yes right then before he pushes the door open, getting out to grab his things from the back seat. When he passes by rolled down passenger window, Cas pauses to make eye contact with Dean.

“Goodbye, Dean. And thank you again for the ride.”

Dean nods, giving him a small wave. “See ya, Cas.”

With that, Castiel makes his way up the driveway and into his house. Dean waits until he’s inside before backing out and heading home.

God, he’s completely and utterly fucked. All because of Castiel Novak.

#fandomwritingchallenge #destielfanficnet #destiel #destiel fic #megan writes #high school au #marching band au #adoringjensen #envydean #angvlicmish #galaxystiel #destielonfire #my stuff

[nevillelongsbottom]

4 with flintwood, jily, wolfstar, and Charlie/Draco (is this me being greedy) (yes it is)

It ain’t greedy if it’s got Charlie/Draco in there! And I like all these ships anyway. Problem is, Jily and Wolfstar are taking me a small eternity to do, so I’m just going to post the two I’ve done now since I feel like I’m making you wait forever and then post the other two as they get finished (if you want to send them again, that’s cool and I can answer it when they’re done)! I’m sorry it’s taking me a while, I just don’t want to disappoint so I’ve already trashed 2 Wolfstars (I’ll get there eventually!).

But here we are: Charlie/Draco and Flintwood (with a snowball fight)!

Charlie/Draco + In The Moment KissDraco develops a habit of drinking.

Charlie Weasley finds this out when, still a month or twoaway from when he’s expected to return to Romania, he starts volunteering aspart of the Ministry’s veterans support service; he works a night shift so thathe doesn’t have to hear George and Percy wake up screaming or get up in themiddle of the night to find Ron having gripped a mug of tea so hard he’sshattered it, and he sits just outside the special ward at St Mungo’s, in aplastic chair, waiting for people who need his help. His usual fare are peoplestill inconsolable with loss and grief, or people so depressed just being inthe same room as them drains his energy; he lucks out and avoids the drinkerson his shifts until Draco arrives one night, alive like a thunderstorm,Theodore Nott clinging uncomfortably to his arm.

He becomes a frequent visitor; Charlie files permission tomake house calls every now and then, and though he’s denied the right to dothem himself, the Ministry change their minds when three support workers arerebuffed, the doors slammed in their face and the wards around Malfoy Manorstrengthened each time. When Charlie arrives, Draco opens the door, looks himup and down, and steps aside before he even announces his business. 

“I haven’t had anything to drink, before you ask,” he sayssourly. A house-elf moves to make Charlie tea; he dismisses it lightly and doesit himself, manually, like a Muggle. Draco would scoff if he didn’t have to doit himself, something to keep him grounded and all there, no matter how simple. 

“I wasn’t going to accuse you,” Charlie answers, only usingmagic to pour the milk because he can only ever get it right that way. “I justcame to see how you were doing.”

“How do you think I’m doing?” he snaps. Charlie blows on histea and doesn’t answer, his gaze steady, inquisitive. “I should’ve shut thedoor on you, too. I’m upset, alright? Is that what you want to hear?

”“I just want you to tell me how you really feel,” Charliesays patiently. “Like shit. Don’t you?”

Charlie cracks a smile. “Every day.”

-

He visits sporadically during the week, trying to keepthings interesting, trying to catch Draco out, in a moment of weakness. Henever does. Nott had explained that he was a night drinker - the dark scaredDraco, a physical manifestation of his mental fears - but Charlie hadn’texpected it to be so rigidly true. 

He almost looks forward to their visits, sometimes.

He’s on a night shift again when it happens; he’s sitting inthat plastic chair of his and wondering if anyone would mind if he Transfiguredit into something nicer when Neville Longbottom arrives by Apparition, Dracofalling in beside him and trying to lunge at him once they’ve recovered fromtheir materialisation (Charlie wants to complement Neville on a well-done pieceof advanced magic under pressure). Charlie shoves himself in the way, pushingDraco back and barking at him like he’s a badly behaved dragon to stop fightingas Neville wipes some of the blood from his cheek.

“Did he pick a fight with you?” Charlie asks, having heardtoo many a story of Longbottom’s disasters and shyness to suspect anywrongdoing on his part. Neville nods. “Alright. You head on home; I’ll takecare of him.” Without even waiting to watch Neville go, Charlie spins around,seething. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He can tell that Draco isn’t even that drunk, and that’swhat makes him so angry as the Slytherin shrugs. “Fancied giving Longbottom arun for his money.”

Charlie pulls at his hair and groans, trying to keep himselftogether. It doesn’t work. “You can’t do that, Draco! You can’t ask for andwish for redemption and then beat up the real war heroes, because that’s asurefire way to show that you’re not sorry at all and reconfirm yourself asevil! Don’t pretend to me that you’ve had it worse, either, because your familyare all alive. I lost a brother, a precious brother, and I have to live in themess left behind every day and while I know your problems are different from mine,you can’t use them as excuses! Do you see George punching people because theother half of his soul is dead? Because I don’t! And you don’t get to do this!”He’s so angry he feels like he’s about to see spots when he hears Draco shiftand suddenly there’s a mouth enveloping his. 

He knows sensibly that he shouldn’t be doing this, butCharlie is hardly the poster boy for sensible, and he grips at Draco, pushinghard into the kiss, fierce like his dragons, channeling everything into thisone moment, this one crush of lips on lips and twisted tangle of tongues,strong and hot and everything and like the release of all of his frustrationsat once and he wonders if he might explode in this moment, fingers dug intoDraco’s shoulders and Draco’s hands making waves on Charlie’s back beneath hisshirt.

He’s still angry when he draws back the kiss, figuring thatDraco might never. “You’re not off the hook,” he says.

“Yeah,” nods Draco. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Good. Then go home and get some sleep. I’ll be over tomorrow.” 

The taste of Charlie’s lips and of his frustration is stillthere on Draco’s lips when he steps out into the street, calling for the KnightBus. Maybe it wasn’t the best of ideas, to kiss a fuming Dragonologist, but asDraco reaches up to aimlessly touch his bottom lip, he thinks that he’d love tobe in that line of fire again. 

Flintwood + In The Moment Kiss“Okay, get on over to your next class. Don’t forget yourhomework – next Thursday, you’ve got more than a week, and unless you’re beingtreated by Madam Pomfrey for the next week there’s no excuse good enough.”Oliver watches the group of first years file out of the classroom and he yawns,snapping shut his personal copy of QuidditchThrough The Ages, the spine worn by many a reread. Though his FlyingLessons certainly never included actually studying Quidditch and the history offlight and the game, the curriculum has been updated since his first year, andhe’s certainly kept busy with all the new work.

“Mr Wood,” McGonagall says; he starts, not having even heardher enter. Though she should be calling him Oliver, as they’re now equals,breaking the habit proves difficult; he can still barely get past calling herMinerva. “We’ve hired an assistant for you – I have noted that it is ratherdifficult to keep an eye on an entire class of first years in the sky – and I’dlike you to meet him.”

Oliver remembers her mentioning this; he still thinks thatit’s a good idea.

Until Marcus Flint walks in.

Merlin’s hairy balls.Oliver hasn’t seen Marcus since seventh year, and really, he’d hoped to neversee Marcus again. He doesn’t have a vendetta, but Marcus had always caused anuncomfortable swell of feelings in his belly, and Oliver has never been one foraddressing his feelings. Marcus mighthave a vendetta, though, especially considering their track record together.“Wood,” he says, looking as predatory as ever.

“Flint,” Oliver says, quirking an eyebrow.

“I know your history, you two, and if there’s any whiff of you two fighting, you’ll be outof here like a flash – is that understood?” McGonagall says sharply; Olivernods. He hopes he can keep his patience – his Quidditch career had been endedearly by too many incidents of injuries causing irreparable damage, and helikes this job. He can’t imagine being anywhere else. “Good. I expect the bestfrom the two of you.”

She shuts the door behind her when she leaves. Marcusglares. “Didn’t think it would be you.”

“All the other Quidditch players are coaching or playing.I’m the only one with free time for this.” 

“How come?” Marcus asks, sitting on top of one of the desks. 

“Magic can’t fix everything,” Oliver shrugs. 

Marcus notices that, when Oliver strides between the deskslater that day to take in homework, he walks with a limp. He’s not a Quidditchcaptain anymore; he walks with that straightness, and still has the strength inhis arms, but he’s not the Keeper anymore.

Marcus finds him handsome anyway.

-

“Sir, I was in the infirmary all week because I took a bludgerto the head last Quidditch match.”

“Alright, okay, that’s a reasonable excuse. I’d like it insometime next week, though, yeah? And watch out for those bludgers. They hithard.” Oliver pats the student on the back and smiles. “Now hurry up, McGonagall’llkill me if you’re late and it’s my fault.”

“Thanks, Professor Wood!”

“No problem.” 

Marcus watches the flare of Gryffindor robes as the studentskips away to Transfiguration. He had been refereeing that match, a trial ofhis skill in refereeing, whilst Oliver had been sitting in the stands, watchingintently. It had been in the slightest way nerve-wracking, but he had enjoyedthe feeling of Oliver watching him, studying him, even though he hadn’t knownthat Oliver might’ve been studying him in a different way.

He’s a Slytherin, and the hearts of Slytherins never brokewhile he was at school, but his heart breaks sometimes when he sees Oliver flynow, so reserved, none of that daring he had in school. 

But he’s kind, tempered, a good Professor. Marcus would loveto be on the receiving end of those smiles, those pats on the backs, thosegrins and that praise. 

“Was he really?” Marcus asks. “Not the whole week,” Oliver replies, “but I reckon we canlet him off, just this once.”

-

Marcus can’t sleep for dreams of Oliver Wood on a goddamnbroom, and, thrilled by the novelty of actually being able to leave his room,goes to the Quidditch pitch, taking ten points from a wandering Ravenclawstudent on the way. 

It doesn’t surprise him much that Oliver is already there,balancing rather precariously as he sits inside one of the goalposts. It wouldbe normal to just stand or sit on the pitch, but of course, Oliver is a fuckingmaniac and has to be back at his post, even though it’s no longer his, and shit, Marcus thinks, he’s gorgeous.

He’s kind and he’s gorgeous and that smile of his is goingto kill somebody one day.

Marcus wants to make a move. Instead, he goes back inside.

-

He’s forgotten how much he enjoyed the winters at Hogwarts –it snows and it’s up to his calves and the building is always comfortablyheated so that when he comes in from helping Oliver with lessons it’s nice andhe doesn’t have to bury himself in layers of clothes. And he gets to watchsnowball fights out the window, cackling with glee as a Slytherin pelts aGryffindor in the face.

“Please stop laughing where the students can see you,Flint,” McGonagall advises as she passes him by, so he steps away from thewindow and ventures into his classroom; Oliver is marking essays, his cup ofcoffee stirring itself. 

“What’s taking you so long?” Marcus asks; Oliver hasseemingly been marking these for an eternity. 

“These students have terrible handwriting,” Oliver grumbles.

“Snowball fight.”

“What?”

“You can’t play Quidditch. We should have a snowball fight.It’s boring here.”

“That’s true.” Oliver gets up and takes a last-minute sip ofhis coffee, pulling a sweater on before his coat and scarf. “You know I’ll win,though.”

“In your dreams.” 

Many of the students stop to admire two of their teachers,absorbed completely in a brutal snowball fight, wands and all – they’re theyoungest on the team, and Oliver is popular, having a whole fanclub to himself,but neither of them care: they’re busy having a snowball fight, eager to beatthe other, years of rivalry still strong. Oliver loves it: his life withoutQuidditch has been horrible, and the idea that he can still have fun, stillcompete – it’s perfect.

And he’s beating Marcus Flint.

“Suck it, Flint!”he bellows, narrowly avoiding a snowball aimed at his head and flicking hiswand, sending three snowballs in a triangle, two of which hit their target. 

“You watch it, Wood!”A student starts betting on which one of them will win. A snowballhits Oliver in the face: hard, brick ice, Scottish snow. “You bastard! I’mgetting you for that!” He moves from behind the snow tower he’s created (he’sScottish; it pays off) and sprints for Marcus, snowball in hand, whacking himfull-force in the face, a beautiful coup d’état. Marcus glares at him, pawinghis glove into the snow for another go, when, still elated by his perceivedvictory, Oliver leans in and kisses him, wrapping his arms around Marcus’sgiant down jacket and pulling him in with that Keeper strength.

Marcus kisses back, unwavering; this has been what he’swanted long before he even left Hogwarts, and Oliver’s mouth is hot incomparison to the cold of the snow seeping through their gloves and layers,moving ferociously as if kissing were just the next stage in their eternalcompetition that Marcus is keen not to lose, pushing back, their mouths justbecoming a clattering of tongue and teeth until they fall from pushing eachother so hard into the snow, Oliver rolling over.

Marcus takes the opportunity to dump a snowball down theback of his neck. He does not earn a kiss for that move; instead, he makes arun across the grounds, Oliver following closely behind him, yelling about howhe’s definitely going to kill him for that, and thinks that this is probablythe best time he’s ever had. 

#i feel like the flintwood one is terrible but hey it's a snowball fight! #love a snowball fight #and some edge from draco #charlie's just worried tbh #he just wants draco to stop drinking cus he's alright #and for him to be ok #also i'm sorry oliver unable to play quidditch made me sad too #but i liked him being able to find solace in something else #especially snowball fights #and teaching #i write shit #flintwood #marcus flint #oliver wood #charlie weasley #draco malfoy #prompt fill

[faewinds]

SHANE RANT COMING THROUGH

I very rarely write anything on my tumblr, but today that changes, because yesterday I got 7 hearts with Shane and did all of this events one right after another due to my admittedly meandering path.

(There are spoilers, you were warned)

First Event: You wander up to Shane getting shwasted on the dock in the woods, and in a decidedly uncharacteristic act of charity and friendliness, he offers you a beer, but then you realize, no, he's just paying for you to sit through his sad!drunk ramblings. Starting disguised as a pseudo-intellectual conversation about life and our place in the universe, it quickly becomes a depression reveal, WHICH HE IMMEDIATELY DEFLECTS FROM by commenting on the fact that you chugged out beer, decreeing you a farmer, "after my own heart." He then, following the weeble-wobbling drunken tone of this dialogue, warns you against making it a habit, as you still have a bright future. Shane immediately has to leave, as he has a rumbly tummy, and ghosts.

Why This Annoyed Me: Thanks, dude, did Santa tell you that the only thing that beat out a pony and a will to live on my Christmas list this year was some asshole who will greet any attempt at conversation with some version of "Don't you have a job you should be doing?" until you get to 6 hearts, where he'll start asking why you're still hanging around because HE WAS BEING AN ASSHOLE ON P U R P O S E. That's def someone whose advice I can take seriously.

Second Event: Fucker is found in a pile of bottles in his room by his aunt who only comes in to his room after (it is implied) spending a hot minute trying knocking and having him open the door, which considering the amount of personal space this game usually handwaves for cutscenes, stood out. When you splash him to get him awake, he freaks and gets up, at which point his aunt, clearly nearing the end of her patience, asks what his deal is. It is more than a little worrying that in the little over 3 months since he moved in with Marnie, she has found him in either this state or one like it enough times that she so clearly at a loss for what to do, as Marnie's cutscenes and dialogue suggest that she is too practical a person for her to have just been ignoring it and hoping it'd go away. Shane, faced with his Aunt expressing her concern for him, counters with the classic, "You wouldn't understand," because that's a mature remark from a grown ass man in his late 20s. When Marnie, clearly desperate to try and get through to her nephew asks about his plans and goals, clearly trying to give him something to hold onto, Shane's reaction is so filled with drama that him getting ready to deliver his big line is distracting enough that he doesn't hear Jas walking in the room.

"Plan?" He stares off towards the book on raising chickens laying forgotten at the foot of his bed. "Hopefully I won't be around long enough to need a 'plan'-"

His artfully delivered line is not interrupted by his aunt or by you as he was probably expecting, but by his goddaughter running sobbing out of the room at her godfather's declaration. As Marnie goes running after her niece in an attempt to console her, Shane instead opts to halfheartedly calls out her name and an apology and fall to his knees in a hair-tugging temper tantrum.

Why This Annoyed Me: Homeboy, as someone who is also suicidally depressed, I understand that grabbing on to the lifelines people throw you is hard, and you don't always have the spoons to fix things. That being said, there is a fine line between 'my mental illness absolves me of all wrongdoing' and 'I'm entirely responsible for everything that happens due to my mental illness' and you, Shane, are wayyyyy too drunk to balance. I'd be more sympathetic to your plight if your response to everything that got you down was a vast array of things; drinking yourself to death is not one of them.

Third Scene: Wandering through the woods, you happen upon Shane yet again passed out in a pile of bottles, this time at the top of the cliffs next to the entrance to the cave. Shane, drunk as all hell, apologizes for not having the balls to throw himself off the cliff before you got there. He complains of having a worthless life - "All I do is work, sleep, and eat" - and demands that you give him a reason he shouldn't drunkenly roll off the edge right now. Amongst the options you have are;

There's so much to live for!!!!!!!!

JAS, YOU ASSHOLE

Suicide is a SIN against YOBA-JAYSUS

Hey, man, this isn't really a decision I can make, but I can be here for you.

His responses to these are as follows;

We very obviously disagree on this, as my main hobbies include raising chickens and drinking myself to death, fuck off.

HOLY SHIT, I SOMEHOW FORGOT I HAD A WHOLE GODDAUGHTER, THIS JUST BRINGS TO THE FOREFRONT HOW I AM TOTALLY THE PIECE OF SHIT THE WORLD REVOLVES AROUND.

A, that is the worst possible way to convince someone not to kill themselves as if you're at the point where you're literally talking them off a ledge, one can probably safely assume that they give no shits about the scriptures of Yoba-Jesus (Who will be henseforth referred to as Yosus, because I can). B, that is also possibly one of the least comforting ways to try and talk someone off a ledge, as it implies that you care more about Yosus' opinion than about your supposed friend's wellbeing, as well as highlighting that you very obviously didn't read the YoBible very closely. One of Yosus' big things was that you should leave the judging to Yosus and his Dad and concentrate on being nice to people. Guilting people about making Yosus unhappy when they're going through major personal trauma? Seriously uncool. And C, the religious character are very clearly denoted as the ones who file into the shrine at the back of Pierre's. I am notably absent from those four whole people.

Wait...people actually care about my wellbeing? Marnie and Jas being visibly distressed by my drama in no way clued me in to this.

Regardless of what you say, or his opinion, you carry his ass to the hospital, where Harvey thanks you for bringing him in. The good doctor reassures that physically (though extended alcohol abuse has already started fucking him up visibly and that would take work to rectify) Shane is doing very well, and that Harvey expects him to make a full recovery in time. Harvey goes on to comment on the more lasting effect on mental illness and tells you that he is gonna recommend a counselor in a local city for Shane to see.

The next morning, the first thing you are greeted with on your way out the door is Shane, who apologizes for you having to LITERALLY TALKING HIM OFF A CLIFF and informs you that he's going to visit the counselor that Harvey suggested. You have three responses to this;

Well, thank fuck I decided to take the the long way to Krobus' huh?

Hey, maybe now you'll stop being such a fucking dick, amiright?

I'm just happy you're still here.

To which he answers;

RIGHT YOSUS YOHRIST

Wow, yes, thank you, that's why I am currently regretting coming to update you, cause I had been under the impression that was good form for someone you forced to help you through a suicide attempt, but you're a douche, never fucking talking to you again.

...that got heavy real fuckin fast, I was blitzed, it was that bad? Yosus, sorry.

Why This Annoyed Me: This is actually the point where Shane started becoming less two dimensional for me. He does have Turd At The Center Of The Universe Complex, but depression sometimes comes with the feeling that everything's the worst specifically around you and everyone in your immediate vicinity would be immediately better off without you around. That being said, Shane, you live with Jas, she is at most 6, how did you manage to forget her? You are obviously important to her, and she obviously feels comfortable just wandering into your room. Maybe pay her more attention.

I was super pumped after that heart event, because that gave me hope that there was gonna be a nice, happy recovery story. I was further enthused by the next one.

Forth Scene: Shane walks in to the Ranch, and Marnie comments on his good mood, which she immediately ruins by suggesting it's because there's a sale on beer. Shane looks unhappy, but bounces back, telling her he's switched to soda water and he feels a lot better before giving Jas a new pair of play slippers that he can now afford because his entire disposable income isn't going into booze.

My Issues: Marnie, we can understand that he's apparently been pulling this shit for a hot minute, so it's understandable that you're patience is wearing thin, but maybe starting that particular fight with him while he's looking happy and, above all, sober, right after he got out of the hospital for a suicide attempt that alcohol and being drunk played a big role in might not be the best of ideas.

5th Scene: Shane is filming an ad for a Joja Mart competition, and asks you to walk through the back of the scene to make it seem less fake. Clint chugs a bottle of soda because Emily makes him nervous. He turns blue.

Issues: Nonexistent, his character is developing and this is the first cutscene that isn't centered around his addiction and is evidence of him actually trying to start moving on and doing better.

6th Event: You walk into the ranch and Jas takes you to the back, where Shane has a heart to heart with his favorite chicken, Charlie, carrying her around while doting upon his fancy blue chickens.

Issues: FANCY. BLUE. CHICKENS.

Salty, Salty Conclusion

They didn't change a n y of his dialogue as his hearts increase. So, if you talk to him right after he comes to you about going into counseling, he'll tell you that he's going to the bar because there's nothing else to do.