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cardest · 3 years

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Japan playlist

Are you turning Japanesa? I don’t think so! This, I believe is the ultimate Japan playlist. One of my favorite countries in the world to visit. it truly is a fascinating place in the world. The music from this region is just so. Crazy even! I have been a few times and cannot wait to get back over there again as soon as Crap-19 takes a hike and leaves this planet already. Meanwhile, here is the Japan playlist to keep us happy. Perfect for those of you out there in lock down.

I hope you dig the list of songs I put together. You can even let me know what songs or bands I forgot and let me know! 私はあなたがそれを掘ることを望みます Arrigato! Hit play right here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1_IcliLasW5eajllU8pA5Gh

JAPAN

001 Fantomas - 4-30-05 002 INXS - I Send A Message 003 LADYBABY - candy 004 Babymetal - DoKiDoKi MORNING 005 MOMOIRO CLOVER Z vs KISS - YUMENO UKIYONI SAITEMINA 006 The Cure - Kyoto Song 007 Kill Bill Vol.1 - Isaac Hayes - Run Fay Run 008 CHAI - GREAT JOB 009 Mutant Monster - Barabara 010 Sigh - Inked in Blood 011 The Vapors - Turning Japanese 012 Fantomas - 4-7-05 013 Ocean Machine - Night 014 Masayuki Sakamoto - Psy'chy 015 Astro Boy - 1980 English Intro Theme 016 Go Misawa - 悪魔人間 (デビルマン) - 不動明 017 Red House Painters - Japanese To English 018 八十八ヶ所巡礼「仏滅トリシュナー 019 Acid Mothers Temple - Floating Flower Shizuku No Youni 020 Ween - Japanese Cowboy 021 Otoboke Beaver - Don't light my fire 022 Gojira's Godzilla Theme Song 023 Cavalera Conspiracy - Bonzai Kamikazee 024 Ultra Bide - DNA vs DNA 025 David Bowie - Crystal Japan 026 A Flock Of Seagulls - Tokyo 027 Sakura - Cherry blossoms 028 BON JOVI - Tokyo Road 029 Aneka - Japanese boy 030 Endon - Boy Meets Girl 031 Junko Ohashi - Dancin' 032 Ike Reiko - Yoake No Scat 033 Shohjo-Tai - Flamingo Island 034 Chthonic - Kaoru 035 Herbie Hancock - Nobu 036 Akiko Yano - Dogs Awaiting 037 Inoyama Land - Glass Chaim 038 Fantomas - 4-14-05 039 Hide - Dice 040 Japan - Talking drum 041 Sabbat - Samurai Zombies 042 Brian Ice - Tokyo 043 W.A.S.P. - Tokyos on fire 044 UHNELLYS - SWITCH 045 Boris - LOVE 046 Kill Bill Vol. 1 - Battle Without Honor or Humanity Tomoyasu Hotei 047 eX-Girl - Pretty You Ugly 048 Gonin Ish - Shagan No Tou 049 Banana Erectors - Fed Up With Highschool Days 050 Strapping Young Lad - Japan 051 Yoshida Brothers - Ibuki 052 Zeni Geva - Total Castration 053 Flower Travellin' Band - Satori, Pt. 1 054 MOMOIRO CLOVER Z - GOUNN - 055 Tom Waits - Big In Japan 056 ABIGAIL - A Witch Named Aspilcuetta 057 Sigh - The Tombfiller 058 Marty Friedman-Dragon's Kiss-Dragon Mistress 059 RIOT - Tokyo Rose 060 Fantomas - 4-13-05 061 Guitar Wolf - High Schooler Action 062 Becoming a Geisha - Memoirs of a Geisha Soundtrack 063 Seven Samurai- Ending Theme 064 Miki Sugimoto - Rei's Ballad (Theme from Zero Woman Red Handcuffs) 065 Yoshida Brothers - Rising from Best Of Yoshida Brothers 066 Ruler - Jeanie Jeanie Jeanie 067 Kill Bill Vol. 1 OST - Twisted Nerve - Bernard Herrmann 068 Fantomas - 4-23-05 069 Shonen Knife - It's a New Find 070 Polish National Radio Symphony OrchestraKrzysztof Penderecki - Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima 071 ACID MOTHERS TEMPLE - Helen Buddha; Miss Condom X 072 Shugo Tokumaru - Decorate 073 PiGu - Bye Bye Honey 074 Hello Kitty Theme Song - Hello Kitty 075 ACUTE - 生き地獄 076 Sabbat - Karmagmassacre 077 Yellow Magic Orchestra - Tong Poo 078 Yojimbo OST - Main Theme 079 Anpan-man (Red beans bread man)theme song 080 Ex-Girl - The Crown of Dr. Keroninstein 081 Kate Bush - [The Whole Story] Breathing 082 Coffins - Hatred Storm 083 The Books - Tokyo 084 Fantomas - 4-19-05 085 男の一生／松方弘樹 086 Azuma Kabuki Musicians - Dojoji 087 Saxon - Walking Through Tokyo 088 Kill Bill, Vol. 1 Original Soundtrack - The Flower of Carnage - Meiko Kaji 089 Les Rallizes Denudes - Now is forever 090 G.I.S.M. - Nih Nightmare 091 Mono - Silent Flight, Sleeping Dawn 092 Deftones - Romantic Dreams 093 Strapping Young Lad - Zen 094 Dead Can Dance - Kiko 095 Kinoco Hotel - キノコホテル「キノコノトリコ」 096 Esashi Oiwake - Ensemble Nipponia 097 Naitemo idayoi - bcmomoiro clover 098 Bryan Ferry - Tokyo Joe 099 Suzuki Junzo - Crying Out Double Suicide Blues 100 Iron Maiden - Sun and Steel 101 Kikagaku Moyo - Dripping Sun 102 Fantomas - 4-3-05 103 BARBATOS - Tokyo Rock'N Roll Show 104 BABYMETAL - MEGITSUNE 105 Eternal Elysium - Shadowed Flower 106 The Erections - stupid punk 107 The Seatbelts - Cowboy Bebop (Original Soundtrack 1) 108 Rush - Manhattan Project 109 Today Is the Day - Samurai 110 Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood OST - main theme 111 Japanese War Music - Samurai Battle March 112 Steel Panther - Asian Hooker 113 The Mount Fuji Doomjazz Corporation - A Place For Fantasies 114 Guitar Wolf - FIGHTING ROCK 115 HEAVY METAL ARMY - That's Hammurabia 116 Michale Graves - Godzilla 117 Noriko Miyamoto - My Life 118 Loudness - Ashes in the Sky 119 Mary's Blood- Save the queen 120 Mellvins - One Fine Day 121 High On Fire - Bastard Samurai 122 Shakuhachi - The Japanese Flute 123 Luna Sea - IN SILENCE 124 Tatsuro Yamashita - Sparkle 125 PIG DESTROYER - Kamikaze Heart 126 Tomoko Kawada - Akanegumo 127 Sodom - Kamikaze Terrorizer 128 Carlos Toshiki and Omega Tribe - Sky Surfer 129 TOKKAEBI - cheon mun 130 Pere Ubu - 30 Seconds Over Tokyo 131 Wanda Jackson - Fujiyama Mama 132 Witch Cross - Night Flight To Tokyo 133 F.O.E. - Total Eclipse 134 Coffins - The Frozen Styx 135 Sword of Doom (1966) - Main Theme OST 136 Sigh - The Transfiguration Fear 137 Yondemasu Yo, Azazel san - Opening song 138 Thundercat - Tokyo 139 GHOST IN THE SHELL O.S.T.2 - i can't be cool 140 Japandroids - No Allegiance to the Queen 141 YAMANTAKA - SONIC TITAN - Hoshi Neko 142 Doraemon 2005 Opening - Sha La La 143 Akira Soundtrack - Kaneda's Theme 144 Anatomia - Morbid Hallucination 145 Traditional Japanese music - Honno-ji 146 Kodo - Lion 147 Tomita Planets - Mercury, The Winged Messenger 148 Yuji Ohno - Lupin The Third Theme '78 149 Ninja Scroll TV Series Soundtrack - Jubei's Theme 150 OKAWARI_BOY show me your space 151 Boris - The Woman on the Screen 152 Sepultura - Kamaitachi 153 X Japan - X 154 L'Acephale - Hitori Bon Odori 155 Zilch (hide) - Inside the Pervert Mound 156 Fantomas - 4-12-05 157 Kodo - Akatsuki 158 Sigh - Hunters not horned 159 Pucca Theme song 160 Tujiko Noriko - Solo - Magic 161 MYSTERY KINDAICHI BAND - THEME OF KOSUKE KINDAICHI 162 Akiko Yano - クマ 163 Sooo Baad Revue - バッド・レビュ 164 Pharoahe Monch - Simon Says (instrumental) 165 Imaginary Flying Machines - Sanpo (My Neighbor Totoro) (feat. Living Corpse & Yoko Hallelujah) 166 Mutant Monster - kamisama o negai - pv with romaji lyrics 167 Mount Fuji - Neun 168 Kumi Sasaki - Tanchame Bushi 169 Yakuza - Yama 170 Chai - Choose go! 171 Goto Mariko – Drone 172 Blue Oyster Cult - Godzilla 173 Kinoco hotel – F No Junkai 174 ASS BABOONS OF VENUS - Jet Unchi 175 James Bond you only live twice OST - Aki, Tiger and Osato 176 PJ Harvey - Kamikaze 177 BABYMETAL - Awadama Fever 178 Alcatrazz - Hiroshima Mon Amour 179 Tokyo Blade - Warrior of the Rising Sun 180 TIK & TOK - TOKYO GIRLS 181 Queen - Hammer To Fall 182 Nana Kitade - Kibou No Kakera 183 Gallhammer - Blind my eyes 184 Yellow Magic Orchestra - Kai-Koh 185 Chikyuu Kyoumei Resonance of the Earth 186 Hoodoo Gurus - Tojo 187 John Waite - Euroshima 188 Tommy Snyder / Yuji Ohno) - ザ・マリン・エクスプレス (The Marine Express) 189 Boris - Riot Sugar 190 Yellow Machinegun - Again 191 Kill Bill, Vol. 1 Original Soundtrack - The Lonely Shepherd 192 Church of Misery - Chilly Grave 193 Jimmy Takeuchi - Yasuki bushi (Shimane) 194 Yuji Ohno "Andromeda no kanata ni" - (OST - Captain Future) 195 Bo Ningen - Henkan 196 Blood Stain Child - Electricity 197 Crime - Yakuza 198 Tatsuya Yoshida & Satoko Fujii - Feirsttix 199 Ike Reiko - Kokotsu No Sekai 200 Fantomas - 4-9-05 201 David Bowie - It's no game 202 Manon - xxFANCYPOOLxx 203 Sparks - Here In Heaven 204 MAD SPYAIR - samurai heart Gintama 205 Terror Squad - Nightmare Rider 206 Fantomas - 4-6-05 207 Mutant Monster - Hanabi 208 Jimmy Takeuchi - Akita obako 209 NAKED CITY - OSAKA BONDAGE 210 Death Panda theme 211 Crossfaith - Monolith 212 OMD - Enola Gay 213 Dir en Grey - Obscure 214 LADYBABY Age-Age Money 215 Fantomas - 4-17-05 216 S.O.B. - Deceiver (Napalm Death cover) 217 Jimmy Takeuchi - Time Of The Season 218 Dark Mirror Ov Tragedy - Thy Sarcophagus & Unwritten Symphony 219 Laurie Anderson - Kokoku 220 THOMPSON TWINS - TOKIO 221 Electric Eel Shock - Killer killer 222 Kodo - Nanafushi 223 Ningen Isu - Heartless Scat 224 Amachi Shigeru – Showa Blues 225 BlackLab - Insanity 226 TENGGER - achime 227 Riot - Narita 228 Martin Denny - Japanese Farewell Song (Sayonara) 229 LADYBABY - Renge Chance 230 Tokyo Electron - She Keeps Me Shut 231 Kan Mikami - Anata Mo Star Ni Nareru 232 Kraftwerk - Radioactivity 233 CHAI - N.E.O. 234 Fantomas - 4-27-05 235 Gacharic Spin - Next Stage 236 Loudness - Crazy Nights 237 David Bowie - Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence 238 The Presidents of the USA - Japan 239 Fantomas - 4-4-05 240 Kyary Pamyu P - Fashion Monster 241 Wagakki Band - Senbonzakura 242 Deep Purple - Woman From Tokyo 243 Krokus - Tokyo Nights 244 Kyoto - Venetian Blinds 245 Happy End - Natsu nandesu 246 Motohiko Hamase - Plateau 247 Boris - Tokyo Wonder Land 248 Asia - Countdown to Zero 249 Hiiragi Fukuda - Me And My Marshall Amp 250 Marty Friedman - Ai Takkatta 251 Kodo - O-Daiko (japanese drummers - Taiko - tambours geants Japon) 252 Sonic Youth - Tokyo Eye 253 Otoboke Beaver - Anata Watashi Daita Ato Yome No Meshi 254 Y&T - Midnight in Tokyo 255 Metalucifer - Heavy Metal Samurai 256 Urami Bushi - Meiko Kaji 257 Alphaville - Big in Japan 258 M.O.D. - Godzula 259 Akiko Yano - Hitotsudake 260 Japan - Life in Tokyo (Giorgio Moroder Version) 261 Boris with Merzbow - Sometimes 262 Dragonforce - Power Of The Ninja Sword 263 Fantomas - 4-10-05 264 The Guyver Dark hero Theme song 265 Minami Deutsch / 南ドイツ - Futsu Ni Ikirenai 266 Yukihiro Takahashi - Drip Dry Eyes 267 ZooBOMBS - Doo Bee 268 SIGH - Shingontachikawa 269 Burt Bacharach - Me Japanese Boy I Love You 270 Kay Cee Jones - Japanese Farewell Song 271 Dhidalah - GRB 272 Kikagaku Moyo - tree smoke 273 The Fall - I Am Damo Suzuki 274 Ryuichi Sakamoto - Thousand Knives 275 Yasuaki Shimizu - kakshi 333 Godiego - The Birth of the Odyssey (Monkey Magic) 666 BABYMETAL -Headbanger

Here are the songs to listen to: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1_IcliLasW5eajllU8pA5Gh

#japan #Japanese Rock #japan playlist #japanese metal #Sigh #mike patton #ryuichi sakamoto #music from Japan #loudness #otoboke beaver #chai #metalucifer #Japanese movie soundtracks #ninja #babymetal #lady baby

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windarcher · 3 years

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I rarely use this side blog which is a shame, so fuck it, let’s take advantage.

And today we have - my revised essay on why Millennial Tree and Wind Archer are not canonly related, under the read more because it’s a long post! I posted this a while back under a different blog, but I think I can do better. I’ll be honest, 90% of the reason I’m writing this is for fun and to just talk about them because I love these two so much.

Look, I don’t care if anybody headcanons that they are related. If you do? Great! If you do and use that as an excuse to throw hate on people who ship them? Not Great!

So here we go.

1. The Characters

Wind Archer and Millennial Tree!

Millennial Tree was introduced in Ovenbreak, while Wind Archer was around back in LINE. They have a very similar protector/protected dynamic to Knight and Princess. (We’ll be talking about them more later.)

Wind Archer has, as of this post, his main description and three costume ones. I’ll list those first, and we’ll do a bit of unpacking.

Wind Archer - Originally, this Cookie was the wind who loved the green of the forest. This wind delightfully spent its days spreading fresh and sweet fragrances across the forest. In order to save the paradise in peril, a mysterious being granted it the power to purify the Darkness. This transformed the wind into Wind Archer Cookie, the protector of the forest. As long as Wind Archer Cookie's heart keeps hope, he'll carry on his duty.

The interesting thing about this one is that it mentions a mysterious being who transformed him from the wind to the Wind Archer we all know and love. This, I think, is what led a lot of people to head canon him as Millennial Tree’s son- they take the mysterious being to be MT. Put a pin in that one, because we’ll be coming back to it.

Guardian of the Millennial Tree - Long time ago, in a deep dark forest, lived the guardian of the Millennial Tree. The Legend is almost forgotten, but his mission is as eternal as the light of his gem, the Emerald Heart. And it is calling him once again!

This one is interesting because it implies that Wind Archer has been around for a long, long time. Technically it doesn’t disprove the head canon, but it doesn’t help it either.

Night Raven - Wind Archer Cookie embraced the Darkness to become the merciless Night Raven.

... Yeah this has nothing to do with the theory, but here it is.

And finally, our newest costume!

Zephyr of Life - The Winds of Life gently caress the Dessert Forest. Wind Archer Cookie lands upon the fields and looks upon the horizon. A mysterious power has enveloped the land and granted a blessing to the guardian of the forest. Each arrow leaves a bloom of flowers on flight.

A mysterious power. Sound familiar? I think we can tie that into our mysterious being from before. Still, that doesn’t technically count out MT, right?

Well...

Like I said before! Wind Archer was around in LINE Cookie Run. He’s mostly the same except for one notable difference.

There, the mysterious being that created him was named.

The Sugar Swan.

Now, the Swan hasn’t appeared in Ovenbreak. Yet. But I believe that, with the newest event, we’re getting ready to see her. I know you’re tired of hearing this, but we’ll get to that later. She’s gonna have her own section.

Now that we have a grasp on Wind Archer, let’s move on.

Millennial Tree doesn’t have much, but we’ll still give him his share of the spot light! He doesn’t have any costumes yet, but here we go.

Millennial Tree - Deep inside a secret grove, there was a majestic ancient tree. Its roots went deep inside the ground and far to the very corners of the world. When the scarlet curse devoured the grove, the tree sealed itself in a magical slumber to resist the dark sorcery. With the help of the Cookies, Millennial Tree Cookie's silence was finally broken. Once again he is ready to vanquish the Darkness and make the world a blooming garden it once used to be.

Notice - Not once does this describe him as mysterious. That’s the main tie in to my little theory here.

Now. Moving on.

2. What they think of each other.

Thanks to relationship tags, and a few other tidbits, we DO have an idea of what these two think of each other!

First off - the Relationship Tags.

WA, about MT - “I shall protect the Tree forever!” (Admiration)

Note that there is a Family tag, and note that it is not used for either of their relationship tags.

MT, about WA - “My faithful guardian, my curse is not your fault.” (Trust)

Fun fact: Admiration and Trust are the same relationship tags that Knight and Princess (respectively) have for each other.

There are not just these, however! There are a few more tidbits here in their loading/home screen messages.

WA - “I will protect the Millennial Tree!” “The Tree knows everything.”

MT - “My faithful wind guards me.”

Nothing we don’t already know, but that helps with my point. There’s nothing that implies a familial relationship.

3. New Content/The Mysterious Being

Oh boy oh boy did this new update give us a lot to unpack.

First of all, the costume I mentioned earlier.

Secondly? Though she hasn’t been spotted yet, there are SO MANY hints about the Sugar Swan! Who, might I reiterate, I’m sure is the mysterious being that keeps getting brought up.

Here she is, located in her Galaxy Lake, which was located at the tail end of the Dessert Paradise map. Does that sound familiar?

Well it should if you’ve played the new story event!

The very first line of the event?

“Vixey! Cubby! Let’s go play near Galaxy Lake!”

And, if you take a look at both Wind Archer’s New Costume - The one that ties in with being blessed by a mysterious power- and the lobby design that comes with it...

Here we have the updated version of the galaxy lake. And Wind Archer’s new costume is designed with lots of the same purple tones as the lake/the swan. It also has a much more feather design then his Guardian of the Millennial Tree costume. The trees are very clearly the same as in the version above, pale with stripes. The sky is, unfortunately, a bit hard to see, though there are still stars there.

These aren’t themed around his usual stuff- This costume is themed much more... birdlike then usual. Granted, it’s not the only one that has wings/feathers, but it features them and the color scheme most promisely.

But the BIGGEST part of the new update that makes me certain the mysterious being CAN’T be MT?

In one of the segment of the update, we get this from Churro Cookie -

“The wind was commanded by the Tree to travel far from paradise and protect a mysterious being.”

With all the other hints, I’m certain that the mysterious being has to be Sugar Swan. She’s the one who turned the wind into Wind Archer. She’s the one who blessed him and further enhanced him into the Zephyr of Life.

And MT had nothing to do with creating Wind Archer. So, they are NOT related!

4. Extra Stuff

This does quite fit the rest, but I thought I might as well add it.

There’s one more cookie that has some heavy implication to the importance of swans.

Whipped Cream Cookie!

And again, the cookie description!

“A graceful Cookie, decorated with the tender, sweet whipped cream and shiny pearls. This Cookie spends days looking at his own reflection on the surface of the lake and practicing fouttés and pas. It is said that Whipped Cream Cookie has learned the elegant ballet movements from the beautiful white swans. This romantic ballerino's eyes are filled with pure light, and smile is so gentle and serene, it can calm the most furious storm. May his graceful ballet dance continue forever!“

If you read this with the perspective of searching for hints on Sugar Swan, it’s got quite a few! He danced at a lake- IE, the Galaxy Lake He was taught by swans - and the character gushes about swans by calling him the most graceful beings.

And while that doesn’t technically mean that he’s tied in, well... We do have one connection to the whole situation up above.

He and Millennial Tree know each other!

WC about MT - “The Millennial Tree watched my first performance!” (Friendly) MT about WC - “In my dreams, I've seen this Cookie dance...” (Friendly)

There’s nothing technically there. Just some extra tidbits that fuel my own person parent/child head canon that Sugar Swan is Whipped Cream’s mom-

ANYWAY

5. Conclusion

Millennial Tree was not the one to turn the Wind into Wind Archer. That was most likely Sugar Swan, and the devs seem to be building up to her coming back with this new event!

This means these two are not canonly related, and if you enjoy shipping them like I do, fear not! There’s no reason not to!

#Cookie Run #Cookie Run Spoilers #Wind Archer Cookie #Millennial Tree Cookie

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justkeeptrekkin · 4 years

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Wrote a little Good Omens/Star Trek crossover

.... for the awesome @comicgeekery. Thanks for the inspo!

5th April, 2063

“--historic day for humankind. For this is truly the first time that we have been able to refer to ourselves as such with the certainty that there is, in fact, life elsewhere in the perceivable universe.”

It’s a balmy, spring afternoon in London when Crowley rolls out of bed and turns on the television. Honestly, he’s fairly used to ignoring the news; it’s only on because he’d left it on channel one last night for a nature documentary that he and Aziraphale have been watching about whales. That’s why he pays very little attention to the picture on his projector screen.

“-- quite extraordinary. It seems as if this was all triggered by Zefram Cochrane's attempt at warp-speed flight, and er-- just coming in now, these beings call themselves Vulcans, Jane, and-- aha-- well, they’re not quite saying that they come in peace, but if our translators are correct, they’re offering us a long and prosperous life--”

Crowley slams his mug on the counter. He’s run out of coffee. He could very easily conjure up some more now, right here, but miracle-coffee is never as good as the nice Costa Rican stuff he buys. Or, more accurately, that Aziraphale buys for him, because he’s just that much of a kept man, apparently.

A knocking at the door. A light rapping that Crowley recognises immediately, and it would usually make him humiliatingly happy except for the fact that he’s just woken up from a--

He checks the time on the TV screen.

-- from a two week nap, he hasn’t got any coffee, and the TV is blabbering on far too loudly. Waving a hand at said TV until it is muted, Crowley slides over to the door, dressing gown belt flapping about against his leg, and opens it with a flourish.

Aziraphale has that bright-eyed, bushy-tailed look about him: never a good sign. “Crowley--”

Crowley plants a brief kiss on his cheek, then immediately retreats back into the kitchen, shoulders heavy with sleep. “I’m going back to sleep, angel. World’s too loud still.”

”Crowley--” the sound of the door slamming, very purposefully, Crowley thinks, as Azriaphale continues: “I have been trying to call you all morning. I thought you left your phone on vibrate for such things.”

“I did. Didn’t I?” Crowley scratches his head. He’s sure he’d changed the ring tone for Aziraphale’s phone number specifically so he’d wake up when only he called. “Apparently not, sorry Angel-- any news?”

He sees the way Aziraphale is rolling his eyes and flapping about when he turns back around from the kitchen with two mugs of tea. His hands are fiddling with each other in that excitable way that they do, a happy nervous way that he’s come to adore. Crowley hands him a cup. Aziraphale takes it with a pointed raise of his brow.

“Any -- any news? Really. You could not have asked a more absurd--”

At that point, apparently, he’s lost for words. More frustrated than Crowley realised, and so he begins to take Aziraphale’s bright eyes and bushy tail a little more seriously. Particularly when Aziraphale puts down the cup of tea of all things, and gestures to the television, one arm outstretched and gaze still fixed on Crowley.

The screen remains muted. However, Crowley gathers what Aziraphale is gesturing at fairly quickly. He’s so used to letting the news blend into the background, tired of feeling depressed by the human race -- especially with this World War III nonsense -- that he’d completely missed that something, actually, rather important has been happening.

It looks like the research base in San Francisco. Crowley knows only a little about this; as the angel who created a fair few of the stars in the sky, he takes interest when humans start pointing their big magnifying glasses at them. Zefram Cochrane, the inventor of warp-speed engines, and a few other important looking men (who may well be important, what does Crowley know? He hasn’t been paying attention) welcomes three people. People, except they’re not human. Humanoid, perhaps, but human? No. Crowley can spot an alien a mile off.

“Crikey,” he mutters, hovering in his sparse living room with his dressing gown open and tea steaming.

Aziraphale nods fervently.

“Which ones are these?”

“These are the Vulcans,” Aziraphale explains. “Do you remember? Our colleagues -- oh, I forget their names -- a few of our colleagues helped set up. Erm.” Aziraphale purses his lips. “Well, their version of Eden.”

“Something like Sha Ka Ray, if I remember,” Crowley mutters, unblinking as he watches one of the Vulcans raise their hand in a v-shape, the humans mimicking.

“That was it! Sha Ka Ree.”

They’re wearing long, heavy cloaks. Even expressions, but glints in their eyes, as if they are taking some professional enjoyment out of this. The humans, barely containing their own excitement -- and probably a good dose of apprehension. Human beings, finally meeting an alien species who could take them down a notch, teach the buggers a couple of things. Crowley and Aziraphale certainly never managed to, much as they’ve tried. Far too stubborn.

After a while of sitting and watching the proceedings-- the beginnings of a new, enterprising delegation-- Crowley gives a long exhale.

“Those bowl cuts are questionable.”

Stardate: 53459 (17th July 2269)

“What? Just give them a quick ring? Give the flagship of Starfleet’s exploratory expedition a cheeky call, just to check in? ‘Hello Enterprise, nice to meet you’?”

“Yes. Why, do you not think that they’d appreciate it?”

“It’s less that they won’t appreciate it and more that it might blow their tiny minds, Angel.”

“They’ve met plenty of extraordinary species by this point -- extraordinary by their standards, anyway. A call from us will be -- how do they put it -- ‘a walk in the park’--?”

“Not the point. That’s -- that’s actually the bit that I’m struggling with, here. What is the point, exactly? What are you aiming to achieve? You looking to freak them out or…?”

“Well, I thought perhaps we could… ah. Tell them who we are.”

Aziraphale looks at Crowley. Red hair tied up, ringlets around his face; silver eye-shadow; a black jumpsuit in the style of the Terran fashion that really leaves very little to the imagination, with cut-outs here and there all over his body. Legs crossed, foot bouncing impatiently, arms sprawled across the back of Aziraphale’s sofa. In his old bookshop, Crowley always sticks out like a sore thumb, and he’s always loved that about him.

He tilts his head. “Really,” he drawls, vaguely amused.

“Yes. Don’t you think it’s about time?”

“IIIII dunno…” Crowley sucks air through his teeth contemplatively. “Never ends very well. Tell humans that angels and demons roam their planet and they get all agitated. Don’t need to tell you that, you remember how much it traumatised dear old Hieronymous. Couldn’t stop painting us, the poor bastard.”

Aziraphale sighs. “Yes, well, that was different. That was almost a millennia ago, now.”

The bookshop is still just as dusty as it has ever been. Crowley has been urging him to at least install a proper computer -- one that will answer to him, rather than sitting there stupidly, looking like a brick. But he is quite happy with it as it is, especially when he has Crowley here, lounging about as he’s always done, draped across the furniture like he’s still wrapped around that apple tree. And drinking more wine than is good for them.

“Right so -- let’s just role-play this--” Crowley’s glass makes a decisive clink against the table, “-- we patch into their network. Right? I find their frequency and just, try and call from my PADD.”

“Yes,” he confirms, not liking his partner’s tone of voice.

“So then they answer, all, military-like and ready for some sort of diplomatic… situation.”

“Mm…”

Crowley’s leaning forward in his seat, gesticulating a enthusiastically. “They see us, they’re all, ‘oi, how did you get this number?’ and we’re all, ‘sorry, just thought we’d pop in and introduce ourselves, we’re your new neighbours,’” he wrinkles his nose mockingly, “‘Cept we’re not new at all, not really, we’ve been here since the dawn of time, but don’t worry too much about that’.”

“Well--”

“So they’re all, ‘ah, immortal beings from outer space!’ and we have to explain that, actually, we’re not really from space at all, we’re the ones who made space, and no, sorry, we’d love to patch you through to God, except She’s been a little busy for the past six thousand odd years, no can do, just got us boring old sods’.”

“Crowley, really. Don’t you think you’re being a little reductionist?”

“No.” Suddenly serious. “I don’t. They’re humans. They’re brilliant, but they’re also humans, which means they’re also thick as shit.”

Aziraphale purses his lips, electing to ignore the love of his life for this moment. Sitting up properly, linking his hands in his lap. “I think it’s time.”

“And what do you think they’ll do?”

“Perhaps it will bring about some new, interesting philosophy. About the nature of the universe, of the overlap between science and faith.”

Crowley’s brow quirks, yellow eyes staring, wide and disbelieving. “Some ‘new and interesting philosophy’? Books. You’re talking about books. You think you’ll get some nice literature out of this.”

Aziraphale flounders. “Well, that’s not exactly how I’d put it--”

Crowley scowls. But then, he’s taking out his PADD from his purse, making aggravated noises as his fingers fly across the screen.

“You’re doing it?” Aziraphale asks hopefully.

“Yes, yes. You got all happy as soon as you started talking about it and-- I was never really going to say no, was I? You know how pathetic I am by this point, surely.”

He’s not looking at him, but Aziraphale is gazing with those big, angel-eyes that Crowley’s told him he uses sometimes. They drive him insane, but he can’t help it, not when Crowley’s being so unintentionally romantic. “Oh, Crowley.”

“Shhhht. Stop. I’m not doing anything nice, I’m--”

“Not nice, I know.”

Aziraphale smiles serenely. Crowley’s scowl deepens, just as the PADD begins to ring.

The screen is propped up against a wine bottle, just in time for the image to reveal a man. A man in green and gold, sand-blonde hair swept back and a look of cautious curiosity in his hazel eyes. Behind his chair, a woman in red is leaning over the controls. The captain’s head is angled slightly, tilted as he seems to consider his situation -- consider the two strangers who have called their starship.

“Greetings, this is Captain Kirk of the Starship: Enterprise. To whom am I speaking?”

“Oh, how exciting,” Aziraphale whispers, nudging Crowley a little. Then, more loudly, “Greetings, Captain Kirk! My name is Aziraphale, and this is Crowley.”

Crowley sighs, seeming very put upon.

Aziraphale nudges him again. “Well! Don’t be rude, Crowley.”

“Yes, hello, how very nice to meet you,” he simpers accordingly.

“This is a secure line, gentlemen. How did you access our co-ordinates?”

“Ah, yep, sorry, my fault,” Crowley waves a hand. “I’m -- well, we’re, er… we can do stuff. Lots of stuff. He’ll explain later.”

He shoots Aziraphale a glare, which seems to be a warning that this could go horribly wrong. Aziraphale, ever the opportunist, elects to ignore this.

“That I shall,” Aziraphale adds, pointedly.

Kirk thinks. He thinks, sitting so still as he leans towards the monitor, that for a moment, Azirpahale thinks the screen has frozen. Then, turning his head to his right, he notes that he is talking to someone. A certain someone who then appears on screen, a royal blue shirt and hands clasped behind his back. A Vulcan. The two converse with a silent look.

Ah. Aziraphale knows that look very well.

“Be that as it may,” Kirk continues, turning back to them, “it is technically a federal crime to trace Starfleet co-ordinates and to contact a ship without first organising an official meeting. That is, unless it is an emergency.”

“Oh, yes, I have heard of your ship’s adventures, captain,” Aziraphale rushes. He puts down his glass of wine. “You’ve done an awful lot of good, helping those in need.”

“We… do our best,” he says with a slow nod.

“Sorry. For the, er… illegal call,” Crowley says.

Another moment where both men share a glance. And then, the Vulcan in blue tilts an inquisitive chin.

“Sir, may I enquire as to the colour of your eyes? They do not appear to be contact lenses.”

It takes a moment for Crowley to realise that he’s the one being addressed. Then, “Ah! Bollocks. Forgot the sunglasses-- see Aziraphale, this is why we don’t call Starfleet when we’ve had two bottles of Rioja.”

“Awfully sorry, dear--”

The captain looks up at his colleague with a wry smile and a raised brow. “Spock, don’t you think it’s a little rude to as a stranger questions about their appearance?”

“A stranger who has made contact with Starfleet’s flagship outside of legal parameters.”

“Still, politeness can go a long way,” he adds with a smirk, and a look in his eyes that’s, quite frankly, obscene.

Crowley clears his throat. “To answer your question-- although, seems like they’re more interested in each other,” he says to Aziraphale as an aside, “- to answer your question, yeah, they’re real. Snake eyes. Unfortunate accident involving a bastard called Lucifer.”

A pause. The man named Spock tilts his head. Kirk leans forward in his seat.

“Lucifer, you say?”

At that, Crowley gives a wicked smile. Aziraphale sighs. This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined this conversation starting.

Stardate: 51650 (9th May 2271)

“My point is -- my point is -- tribbles. Tribbles, now -- whose idea were those, then? Who thought they were a good idea? They’ve -- they’ve not got faces, they’ve not got hands or feet or paws or anything, just, little balls of fluff that just poof! Reproduce, until you’re up to your tits in furballs.”

“Now, tha’s what ah been tryna tell yeh, captain. And you mind what he’s saying, too, Lieutenant Uhura! I know you thought they’s adorable, but they’re terrors.”

“Pointless, they’re pointless. Don’t know what they were thinking of when they made tribbles, whoever they were.”

“Aye! See, straight from the mouth of an angel!”

“Er, former angel.”

”Them wee bastards’ve been cloggin’ up my ship’s engine, would ye believe?”

“Our ship, Scotty.”

“Oh. Well, o’course, captain… I didnae mean no disrespect, captain--”

“In Russia--”

“I swear, if you’re about to say that Russia invented tribbles, Chekov, I’ll kick you out of this here bar faster than you can say Alabama Slammer.”

“Alright, now, Bones, it’s shore leave. He can say what he wants. We’re all here to relax. Isn’t that right, Spock?”

“Yeah, he sure looks relaxed there, Jim.”

“I am not accustomed to frequenting such establishments.”

“I would like to state, for the wecord, sir, that I was not going to say that Russia inwented tribbles.”

“I -- ah -- actually, I have a bit of a confession to make in that respect…”

“Angel. Please. Please don’t tell me that you’re… Christ, you didn’t…”

“You are the angel responsible for creating the tribble species?”

“You have a lot to answer for, Aziraphale.”

“It wasn’t intentional! Or, rather, the intention was to simply create a creature so lovely and adorable that no one could quite resist it. And, I suppose, what with evolution and how that may have changed their, erm, reproduction process…”

“You bastard.”

“Crowley -- for Heaven’s sake, it was simply an accident! You can hardly say that it’s worse than some of your creations.”

“I invented Luton airport. You invented the universe’s most irritating pest. Honestly, I figured some lower ranking demon had been the one to come up with it, but now I feel, sort of… betrayed.”

“Don’t say that! May I remind you that you are the one who came up with the M25? Which nearly destroyed the universe as we know it!”

“I beg your pardon? Would you care to rewind and just, explain that last bit, Aziraphale?”

“Oh -- er, it’s a long story.”

“A very long story that would mean another round. Angel, you are definitely bloody-well buying.”

Stardate: 43897 (24th November 2366)

“You know, when you said that you wanted to check-in with Picard and the team, this isn’t what I imagined.”

Their call isn’t immediately picked up. However, when it is, the first thing they see is a large barbershop quartet. They’re all wearing pink, candy-stripe suits and wicker hats. The bridge of the Enterprise looks much the same as it did under captain Kirk, if not for this barbershop quartet, and perhaps a few technological tweaks. And, of course, the current captain who sits in his chair, face in his hand.

“Er.” Crowley looks at Aziraphale, who looks back at Crowley. “This doesn’t look like a good time.”

“No, by all means,” Picard gestures to the screen, other hand still covering his face. “If you have any advice to offer, then I will happily take it.”

“What…” Aziraphale trails off, purses his lips. The, trying to affect something light and airy, “What seems to be the problem, captain?”

Picard looks over the edge of his hand. “Are you aware of the being that calls itself ‘Q’?”

He’s about to say that he isn’t -- perhaps Crowley knows this Q?-- but before they even have a moment to deliberate, the tallest of the barbershop quartet members steps forward from the throng and hops down the steps to Picard’s side. Dark eyes that have seen too much, brightened by mischief. And for a moment, there is the faintest flicker of recognition as he doffs his hat to the screen, leaning against Picard’s captain chair.

“Good day to you, gentlemen. Did you like my song?”

“No,” Picard says quite firmly. “Now, would you please leave and take your pestering elsewhere!”

Q tuts, rolls his eyes. Pokes his thumb in Picard’s direction. “He’s just grumpy because he hasn’t had his morning cup of Earl Grey.”

“You…”

It’s Crowley that says this. Leaning forward on Aziraphale’s sofa, snake pupils narrowing. And it’s then that Aziraphale realises that this is absolutely someone they know. He just can’t put his finger on it, whilst Crowley clearly has.

“You know him?” Picard says, with the smallest flicker of hope.

“Wait. Wait a second now,” Q points his finger at Crowley, frown deepening. He miracles his hat away, cradles his chin. “Now, we worked together a long time ago, didn’t we?”

That makes Aziraphale stare back at Crowley.

There’s some hesitance. “Oh. Sure, probably. Long time ago, now, wasn’t it? Who knows. Worked with lots of people.”

“No, no, no -- we did a lot of creating with each other. Some fun messing around you know?”

“Er. Not sure. Might have a different person in mind--”

And then those eyes widen. A wicked grin on his face, and Aziraphale can only imagine that this Q must be a demon.

That’s when Aziraphale finds himself standing on the bridge of the Enterprise. Jean-Luc Picard looking up at them despairingly, whilst the rest of his crew work as diligently as they can with a quartet serenading them. Data, notably, is working with the utmost focus, whilst Wharf looks like he’s two seconds away from ripping something in half bare-handed. Riker looks no more patient.

“Oh,” Aziraphale remarks. “You’ve -- you miracled us here!”

No use, Q is far too preoccupied by Crowley. Pointing a finger in recognition. “You’re Crawly! I remember you! Oh, we got up to some good stuff together, huh? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any of the guys from the Milky Way neighbourhood. You guys really like to keep to yourselves, I never understood it. Totally obsessed with your ‘Eden’ as if the rest of us don’t exist.”

“You o know him,” Picard says with some accusation.

Crowley looks, to put it lightly, a little embarrassed. Hands sliding in his pockets and averting his snake-eyed gaze, “Yup. Long time ago. Hung out with a different crowd, then, you got to understand…”

“Qasphiel.” The name bubbles up on Aziraphale’s tongue from nowhere; memories of a gaggle of angels who called themselves the Q Continuum, who were cast out for blasphemy. Creating your own little gang was never something that The Almighty did like. “You’re Qasphiel. You know, I do remember you, now that I think about it.”

Q looks Aziraphale up and down once. “I don’t remember you. Were you one of the more straight-laced types? Yeah, we wouldn’t have hung out, much.”

“Excuse me? I… I’ll have you know, that since then I’ve become quite the rebel--”

“What’re you doing here, Qasphiel?” Crowley interrupts with some exhaustion. “Coming in here and getting on everyone’s nerves -- believe me, I get that it’s fun for a while, but, come on. You must be a bit knackered of it now, no matter what the others are getting you to do.”

“Ah, but I don’t work on anyone’s terms any more. Not even the Continuum’s,” Q smiles smugly.

“That’s awfully nice, but the alternative is buggering off, so the rest of us can get on with our lives.”

He narrows his eyes at Crowley. “What’s in it for me?”

A weary sigh. And Aziraphale considers just how kind Crowley has always been, even if he doesn’t always see it. “Listen. How about -- what about a catch-up. Grab a drink on some planet in the Omicron Delta quadrant. Talk about old times? Big Bang and all that?”

“Ah yes,” Q sighs. Then, apparently distracted, “You know, I don’t recall the yellow eyes,” he gestures to his own. “The demonic thing. Did you fall with Lucy and the others, Crawly? Bad luck.”

“That’s a story that needs telling over a drink.”

There’s a long moment -- too long a moment -- where Q considers this offer. Picard is leaning back in his seat and watching the interaction over steepled fingers. Even Data has stopped to listen, head tilted in interest.

Then, Q shrugs.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

And with that, Picard’s bridge is once again empty of divine or immortal beings. Or barbershop quartets. It is extraordinarily quiet.

Picard lets out a long exhale. “Never a dull day.”

Stardate: unknown

Three suns set upon the horizon of Alpha Centauri. Palm trees wave in the breeze; planted there a few decades ago when this planet first became populated by humanoid species. The air tastes like salt and smells like ozone. A burning orange sky, a deep purple scattering of stars directly above them. Small, clay houses, their shutters closed in the late afternoon heat. Mountain ranges in the distance, seeming so small from their little balcony.

“Total tourist trap,” Crowley mutters into his glass of Romulan ale.

Aziraphale stifles a burp. “Sorry?”

“Look at it. Tourist trap.” Crowley crosses his legs on the railing of the balcony. “All of it. Built like a Terran city, as well. Palm trees and all that bollocks. Shops and restaurants, Christ, it couldn’t get more human if you tried. When will they stop colonising and just learn to appreciate?”

“Mmm.”

“Remember when we could come here and not be harassed by people selling sunglasses? When it was just a big, ol’ expanse?”

“Empty,” Aziraphale remarks. Then, wide eyed, “Hot.”

They watch the first sun dip behind the mountain ranges. The Romulan ale burns Crowley’s throat nicely.

“D’you ever wonder what it would’ve been like?”

Aziraphale takes a slow, indulgent breath. And Crowley knows that he understands what he’s asking. “Sometimes. But I think it’s better that we didn’t run away. We did save the universe, after all.”

“I know, obviously. But do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t?”

Of course he does. They both have. Images of a war-torn universe, of all of this: gone.

Crowley drops his hand, finds Aziraphale’s. Their fingers link, and they absorb the light of three, alien stars.

#star trek #good omens #ineffable husbands #lmao #my writing #this was meant to be 5 +1 times and i just realised it was 4+1 #oops sorry m8

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kessielrg · 3 years

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[Kingdom Hearts AU] Maybe Next Year...

Summary: Inspired by @schizophrenichangedman‘s Ventus, in which Sabrina gets a Christmas visitor, and the duo share a silent night together.

Rating: K+

Word Count: 2,853 words

If you like this story please reblog!

---

It was usually a lie that Sabrina couldn't feel any emotion than pure pessimism. At the moment, her mouth was pursed into a thin line to keep herself from shouting against her adoptive father. His words had stopped making sense a good three minutes ago. She didn't even know why he was still talking to her- the only words she needed to hear was 'I will not be home for Christmas.' The addendum of 'I might need to give you a rain check on New Years too.' was also unneeded, and possibly just as frustrating.

To his credit, he really did try not to have the whole holiday week booked with anyone but family. This was only the second year that he wasn't able to smooth over whomever he needed to be home. But it still hurt. He might as well had reached through the phone and pulled her heart out of her chest.

“Please Sabrina, I know you're mad, and I did everything that I could. I swear on my life.”

“I'm not mad.” she told him. A bold faced lie, but she was a good actor. “If anything, that just means we get to go on an even bigger vacation later, right?”

“Didn't we plan on going back to Paris?”

Even if he couldn't see it, Sabrina shook her head. “Ireland.” she corrected him. “I want to spend the night in one of those historical castles again.”

“You just want to wear a cape and dramatically swish it whenever you go down a flight of stairs.”

“Hell yeah.” she agreed with a soft snort. “Don't forget the dramatic entrances into the ballroom accompanied with slow, romantic waltz music.”

Hearing his laugh was a small comfort. She would have liked it more if he was sitting next to her. After awhile, her father let out a soft sigh.

“I love you, my little princess.” he told her in a gentle tone. There was a small indication of weariness in his voice. Sabrina had to close her eyes in a vain attempt to hold back the waterworks. She hated crying.

“Love you too, you old coot.” she mused back. For a moment, her voice broke- revealing just how much she was trying to hold back. But she didn't give her old man time to comment on it; she hung up the call as quickly as she could. The next moment after, she smacked her head against the cool kitchen counter. Her arms tangled around her head as she let out a low moan of annoyance. She should have known he wasn't going to come around tonight; if he was, he would have been home by now.

She probably would have just given up right then and there had her phone not buzzed. The teen took one look at whoever had messaged her and immediately grimaced. Letting out a grunt, Sabrina took a few steps away from the counter and looked up toward the cabinets. Intuition told her that whatever camera set up to spy on her in the kitchen was placed on top of the fridge. She'd almost assume it was the fridge itself if they had sprung for one of those 'smart' appliances. Thankfully, her father didn't see much use in it. The Alexa, on the other hand, was absolutely bugged for sound input when it was plugged in. That bit had been confirmed to her some months back.

Turning her attention back to her phone, Sabrina flicked through her messages to answer her most persistent pester.

Mister Jekyll: Looks like you're home alone for the holiday, little girl.

Lady Aesthetics: Tell me something I don't know. Fuck off.

Lady Aesthetics: Wait. Why are you awake? There's no way you're pissed because I got ditched.

Mister Jekyll: I thought you wanted me to tell you something you didn't know.

Mister Jekyll: But don't flatter yourself. Space cadet saw something that wasn't meant for him, and you can imagine the results.

Lady Aesthetics: I refuse to believe that it had to do with me.

Mister Jekyll: Fine. Believe what you want. Either way, I've got a surprise for you. You're going to get a visitor around 11 if I leave enough breadcrumbs. You might even get two gifts too. The one is red wrapping paper should not be opened around him though.

Lady Aesthetics: Are you finally gifting me those his-hers guns we talked about the other day? I'm flattered.

Mister Jekyll: Let's just say, you'll be absolutely vibrating the moment you touch it.

Lady Aesthetics: Comforting.

Mister Jekyll: Oh, most definitely.

Mister Jekyll: Above all, you'll have twelve whole hours of not being monitored by me or my comrades.

Lady Aesthetics: So I AM about to be murdered? Not a very poetic date to go out on. I expected more from you.

Mister Jekyll: Unfortunately for you, I've grown attached. I'll have a special punishment for you later. For now, get ready for your visitor.

Raising a rather skeptic eyebrow, Sabrina once more looked up at where she suspected the hidden camera was. Stupid illegal GoPros and their ability to be smaller than a pinkie nail. Shrugging, the teen started to make her way to her room- she apparently was going to have a guest. How fun.

. . .

Sure enough, just a few minutes after 11 PM, the doorbell rang. Not quite sure which version of the blonde haired, blue eyed pester she'd be experiencing tonight, Sabrina opened the door without a look of interest. That quickly changed when her eyes drifted from his face to his hair.

“Oh. My. God.”

Ventus gave her a confused tilt of his head before absently reached for his hair. Half of it had been tied a bright red, and the other side a festive green. When he tilted his head in a certain direction, sparkles in his hair glistened in the porch light. It didn't stop there- Ven was even wearing a tacky Christmas sweater that detailed a large present made of several layers of knit. It look incredibly top heavy, really, and Sabrina had no sense of envy toward him. In his hands were two presents; one was wrapped in green paper and not much bigger than a ring box, the other was a bit longer than that and wrapped in red paper.

“What's that look for?” he questioned, noticing her weird expression as she continued to stare at his hair. A smile then drew on his lips as he then mused, “You scared of a little tinsel?”

“Hardly.” came the undignified huff. “I just suddenly remembered that you got away with that while we were at school. There's no way that your hair complies with the 'only natural hair dye colors' rule in the student handbook.”

“It's natural when you're Christmascore.” he spat back with a little razz of his tongue.

Rolling her eyes, the young woman told him, “Just get inside.” before moving a little out of the way for him to actually enter.

Ventus didn't need to be told twice, practically skipping inside her house before noticing something. Or rather, the lack of something.

“You guys didn't decorate.” he pouted.

“Not true.” Sabrina objected. “We have a tree.”

“Where?!”

“By the staircase,” she informed him before leading him toward the kitchen.

Ven bounced with every step he took. The grin on his face was just bursting with joy in seeing what the tree at Sabrina's house looked like. It had been placed near the L-shaped stairway, well lit with some sparse decorations here and there. He wasn't much of a minimalist, but he supposed it would do. As he set the presents he was holding under the tree, something about it just seemed… off. Ven took a closer look at it; taking a branch between his finger tips and even daring to take a bite out of the ends.

“It's not even a real tree.” he moaned; his pouting starting anew. He then looked to her with an almost puppy-like disappointment. “You know, for someone who came to school in a white limo on her first day of school, you sure do know how to skimp out on the holiday decorations.”

“Well, I'm sorry that I was invited to three different soirees since break started. Two of which occurred outside of this state, so I was away for a good week.”

“But you're rich.” Ven continued to pout. “Shouldn't you have maids and butlers catering to your every whim at every moment of the day? Maybe even set up a Christmas light show spectacular outside your window? What's the point?”

“Don't you dare diss Miss Astra.” Sabrina snapped at him. “She comes by every Wednesday to clean while I'm at school. We gave her three weeks off for the holiday.”

“You can't be that lonely.”

Sabrina's face hardened into something so dark that Ven almost got a shiver up his spine. Looking him dead in the eye, she outstretched her arms to gesture at the entirety of the house.

“Does anything about this house make you think I could be that lonely?” she questioned. Her voice was just as spine chilling, and deeply bitter.

Deflating a little and averting his eyes, Ven let out a small, “Touche.” But he quickly shook his head. He came here in a mission, didn't he? Never would have thought that giving Sabi a little Christmas cheer would be so difficult. Maybe it was time to divert the conversation a bit. Something to eat, maybe. He had skipped dinner tonight out of spite and he was just starting to feel a tiny bit peckish.

“Just one question,” he then tried to ask her, “No candy canes?”

“I've got candy cigarettes.” She offered, her tone still dark, as she went over to one of the kitchen counters. She opened up a drawer and pulled out what certainly looked like a box of cigarettes. As walked back over, she fiddled with the top. She pulled out a white stick from the box then offered the rest to Ven. “100 percent sugar, tastes like chalk, and almost just as smooth as 'em too. You'd never know the difference.”

Ven's eyes widened as he reached over to take a candy cigarette from the box. He immediately stuck the stick of sugar in his mouth and chewed on it a little. It really was like eating chalk- but the candy cigar had a bit more resistance to it when he bit down though. You could almost crack a tooth if you wanted to.

“Well,” he then decided, unsure if he wanted to keep the candy cigarette in his mouth or hold it between his fingers, “Since it's too late to really do some Christmas binging, how 'bout you open up my present? I think you'll like it. Meant to give it to you at school, but I… I got a little side tracked.”

“Sounds like the biggest understatement of the year.” Sabrina snorted. Regardless, sticking her candy cigar in her mouth as well, she went over to the tree and picked up the green gift wrapped present. She then picked up another present from the pile, one that she had personally wrapped herself.

“I have a present for you too.” she told him. “Here, catch.”

Ven let out a surprised yelp as she tossed the large square gift his way. He was just barely able to catch it with both hands. As eager as he now was to open it, he patiently waited for Sabrina to come back over. He took her cue as she sat down by the tree, backs against the wall that bordered the living room and kitchen.

“On the count of three.” he playfully told her. “One… two...”

Neither of them waited for him to say three before tearing into the presents.

Sabrina was not surprised to know that Ven's gift was in a ring box. She just didn't expect to open that up to find a gold plated necklace inside. The charm at the end was of a rather simple looking crown. But still, it looked nice. Giving a moment's worth of thought, Sabrina started to take the necklace out of the ring box. Ven next to her was rather disappointed with what his present was.

“It's a book.” he said in a flat voice. Sabrina made a small sound of inquisition as she looked over at him for a moment.

“A portfolio, actually.” she told him as she put the necklace on. “Open it up and skip the first few pages. The foreword gets kinda winded.”

Still bummed at what appeared to be a bum gift, Ven did as he was told. The foreword did look winded -lasting about five pages front and back- before Ven saw something that nearly made his jaw drop. In the book were full color photographs of natural forests and creeks. The print of the photographs were so pristine that Ven felt like he could just jump in.

“I love it.” he said in a near whisper. “It looks so… familiar.” He looked over at Sabrina before giving a little hum. Sabrina was looking over the necklace as it hung around her neck, falling just in the middle of her breast. Between the lighting of the tree illuminating a bit of her hair, and just her near blank face, something about this moment didn't feel real. And when things didn't feel real, Ven just had to make sure that they were. Ergo, it should not have been a surprise that he placed his head on her shoulder.

Sabrina partially came out of her line of thought to glare at him. She tried to make a half hearted attempt at shaking him off as she told him, “Get your tinsel head off of me.”

“Nope.” he replied with a smirk.

“I'll lay on you if you don't move.”

“I dare ya.”

That was when Sabrina gave one very precise shove, almost knocking Ven completely off to the side if he didn't bob back over. As he sat up straight again, Sabrina had placed her head on his shoulder.

“Checkmate.” she mused. Ven laughed a bit as he moved his head a little to catch a whiff of her hair. Lilac. She always smelled like lilacs. Or lavender. Sometimes both. Too bad she didn't let him indulge in whatever shampoo scent she bathed with for long. She sat back up and stared absently at the ceiling.

“How are you getting home tonight?” she asked him with an almost genuine curiosity. “I doubt any of them actually brought you over, and I sure as hell am not driving you back in the dark.”

Ven recoiled slightly at the idea. “Dunno,” he decided. There was a small pause before he added, “Fuck them.”

Sabrina looked over at him and raised a neatly manicured eyebrow.

“Your grandfather came home?”

“How did you know?” he asked, quite darkly. He refused to look at her- instead bringing his knees closer to his chest. He wasn't going to get mad about it -not yet-, but it was still a sore spot.

Sabrina offered up a callous shrug before admitting, “I guessed. Sorry your family's shittier than mine.”

“Do you think your old man could adopt me? You're home alone so often that if you went insane, no one would even notice.”

“Oh, he'll notice.” Sabrina mused, taking a new candy cigarette out of the box. “You think I'm good at reading people? Take three guesses on who I got it from.”

“Really?” he asked in a small wonder- his eyes hungrily looked at the candy cigarette box, but fully eating one proved to be his allotment for any food at the moment. Talking about family was not helping the growing nausea either.

“It's one thing to be born from money,” Sabrina agreed, giving the candy cigar a few licks before sticking it in her mouth. It didn't long for her to pull it back out with a small 'pop' before adding, “It's another to be barred from the family legacy and still try to make it big. I don't envy what the old man does- let alone the people he has to deal with. Stuff like not making it home for a major holiday rarely happens. He even told me once that he doesn't even accept vacation pay from it.”

“Do you believe him?”

For a long time, she didn't answer him. When she did answer, her voice was small but toneless.

“Do you know how good I can get at lying?”

“Yeah?”

“Take three guesses on who I got it from.”

“Oh...” was all the reply he could give. Slowly, Ven relaxed his legs against the carpet and once more brought his attention to the photography book.

“Hey Sabi?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe next year will be less shitty for both of us.”

For a moment, Sabrina didn't say a thing. Instead she carefully started to snake her arm around his and hugged it. In a voice that didn't entirely sound like her own, she mumbled back at him, “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Merry Christmas, Sabi.”

“Merry Christmas, Ven.”

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sentientpaperbag · 3 years

Text

So this not only ended up being longer than I meant, but most of it is lore related because I changed some stuff involving the lore of magic in this universe. So you get to learn about Dark and Light Husks a little more

Also i might have gone on a bit and rambled in the tags, whoops~

Under the cut!

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Zonta was tired. She’d gone a little overboard with the spellcasting practice. She just desperately wanted to get her spells right without causing too much trouble. She knew using Dark Magic was dangerous, and usually using it as much as she had would result in some form of permanent change in her appearance or even becoming a Dark Husk.

But... she hadn’t had any side effects. She was actually, weirdly enough, good at it. To her knowledge, every witch had a specific form of magic that they excelled in. For example, Zonta knew a nice girl who lived outside of town in the forest, and her specialty happened to be plant based, although she usually used mostly fungi.

Zonta, however, learned pretty quickly that she was very good with Dark Magic. It wasn’t necessarily forbidden, but it was frowned upon to use this kind of magic, due to the very dangerous consequences of overuse.

Zonta supposed it could be worse. She could be in the cult of Light Magic. Or she could be a Light Husk, those were far worse than a Dark Husk, and Zonta decided long ago that if she ever turned into a Husk, she’d go for the less depressing Dark version. At least that way she knew people would leave her alone.

“What exactly are Light Husks again?” Markus, who had come over to help her as best he could with her practice, had absolutely no idea how magic worked. Zonta liked being able to explain things to her friend, even if he didn’t really get it. She supposed it was only fair, however. After all, she hardly knew how werewolves worked and he had done his best to explain that all to her.

“Light Husks are people who used Light Magic. It’s far more powerful than Dark Magic,” she explained, “It’s also more unstable. If you have to use any kind of frowned upon or illegal magic, it’s better to use Dark instead of Light, even if people seem to be more scared of the former.”

“So since it’s unstable it’s easier to turn into a Husk, right?”

“Mm-hm,” Zonta sat down on the long couch in her living room, propping her feet on her friend’s legs as he sat down beside her, “Light Magic, being incredibly unstable and dangerous, usually tends to turn a person into a Husk pretty fast. You get like… the weirdest God complex, too. I went to a gathering with some other witches one time, and there was a Light Husk there in this like… I wanna call it a tube but it wasn’t really one. Anyway, they were in this anti-magic container thing, because if a Light Husk got loose, the world would probably be in a shit-ton of trouble. Light Husks have a whole cult following, cuz they’re usually thought of as godlike. It’s… really creepy, actually.”

“Yikes.”

“Exactly. Anyway, this Light Husk was a woman, probably like… three, four years older than us, and she’s all glowing and ethereal and it’s absolutely terrifying. But like… these people are coming up to the container and they’re asking questions and she’s answering them and her voice is absolutely mesmerizing. Really echo-y and unearthly. Honestly if she looked more like a horrifying creature made of eyes and flaming wheels and wings she could have passed as what people thought angels looked like. I don’t like it. People are obsessed with Light Husks.”

“I hope there’s not that many out there…,” Markus looked a little worried for a moment. Zonta smiled reassuringly at him, shaking her head.

“Nah, there’s like seven. After the seventh person turned into a Husk, people kinda realized that hey, this shit is dangerous and probably lethal, let’s not turn ourselves into ethereal beings of light and energy.”

Markus frowned, lost in thought for a moment. Zonta glanced out the window behind them, silently thinking her own private thoughts, mostly about how grateful she was that the two of them were comfortable with one another to talk about the less appealing sides of their abilities.

“What about Dark Husks? Are you worried about becoming one? If you use your magic too much, I mean,” Markus finally said.

“I mean, I used to worry about it. But I usually can feel when I’m going a little too far and I think that stops me from going overboard. So it should be fine, as long as I remember to take breaks and stuff. Gotta let my magic replenish or I would definitely turn into a Husk.”

“What do they usually look like?”

Zonta shuddered, thinking about the depressing forms she once saw roaming the countryside, “They look like ghosts. Or at least what I think ghosts look like. To my knowledge, Jason is the only one who can see the dead, and I’m too afraid to ask if they look like Dark Husks.

“But they like… they have hallow eyes and sunken cheeks, their bodies are usually thin and bony. Their whole body takes on a monochromatic color scheme that matches their magic. So, for example, if I turned into a Husk, my body would turn different shades of purple,” she explained, shrugging slightly.

Markus tried to envision that for a moment, furrowing his brows together. Zonta thought he looked cute when he tried to imagine something she explained. He usually looked very serious like that.

“You keep furrowing your eyebrows like that and you’ll get a crease in between them,” she teased. He relaxed his face, a small smile forming.

“I think you’d be a pretty color, but I also think you’d look scary if that happened,” Markus said.

“You think my magic color is pretty?” Zonta tried to stay calm, her heart fluttering. Usually her magic color bothered people. Magic usually was a bright color, but hers was a darker purple, almost an indigo of sorts.

“Well yeah. I mean… I think your magic is cool. And the color is kinda nice, it suits you.”

She smiled, “Thanks dude, that means a lot to me. Usually when people find out my magic color, they freak out. And then, when they find out I specialize in Dark Magic of all things, they start thinking I’m like, evil or something.”

“Do you know what kind of magic your dad did?”

She shook her head, “My mom said she can’t remember, and he left before I was born. She told me she just remembers what color his magic is. It’s red. I’ve never seen that color for magic before, it’s kinda unique. Like the dark purple for my magic. Guess weird colors run in the family.”

“Maybe he did Dark Magic like you and that’s why you’re good at it.”

“Haha, maybe.”

Zonta fought the urge to yawn, her eyes heavy. She wanted to keep talking to Markus, but she had really worn herself out practicing.

“You look tired, Hummingbird,” Markus said softly, “You should probably rest.”

“Nah, I’m.. fine,” she mumbled. She knew she needed to rest, she just didn’t want to.

“At least close your eyes. You can still talk to me, but with your eyes closed.”

She complied, closing her eyes. It was fine for a moment until she felt fingers gently brush across her face and her eyes shot open.

Markus looked embarrassed, “Ah, sorry. Should’ve said something. You had a stray hair in your face and it was bugging me. You can close your eyes again, I won’t do that without asking next time.”

She chuckled, shutting her eyes again. She tried not to think about how soft his fingers had been when they moved across her cheek.

“Your accent popped out for a minute there,” she said, laughing when Markus replied, “Howdy, ma’am,” in the most Texan accent she’d ever heard.

“Hey... If I fall asleep, don’t let me sleep too long. I have to make dinner for my mom when she gets home in a few hours. The flight she was supposed to work on next got cancelled or something, so she gets to come home for a few days,” Zonta mumbled, her words slurring a little as she felt sleep start taking over.

“Or, you could sleep and I could make your mom something. She knows you practice a lot and wear yourself out, I’m pretty sure she’d be fine with my cooking.”

“She liked that one thing your mom made,” Zonta replied, opening one eye slightly, “Those tamale things. They were really good.”

Markus grinned, “I told you. You didn’t wanna try them.”

“I didn’t wanna end up not liking them and disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me, Zonta,” Zonta felt her face heat up at how sincere he sounded. She opened her eyes fully, sitting up a little more and moving slightly so she was closer.

“That’s nice to know,” she said quietly, wondering if what she was feeling was genuine or just because it’d been so long since she’d dated that any form of kindness from a cute guy sent her into a romantic frenzy.

He smiled gently at her, pushing her slightly on her shoulder so she was lying back down, “You need to rest, Z. Close your eyes again.”

“Fine,” she mumbled, “Hey, you think you could you try teaching me Spanish again sometime?”

“Only if you try teaching me how to dance.”

Zonta snorted, “You have two left feet.”

“And you can’t roll your R’s.”

“That’s fair,” she laughed.

Her mind started wandering as she felt sleep start drifting over her again. Her mind drifted to thinking about what holding Markus’ hand would be like. It was such a specific thought, and she was fairly certain it was because she was a little touch starved, but she just wanted to hold his hand sometimes.

She was half tempted to say something, but felt herself grow nervous at the thought of asking, instead opting to stay quiet.

She felt herself drifting off to sleep, and she swore she heard Markus say something, but her mind was foggy and she was pretty out of it. She felt herself growing limp as sleep overtook her, and she hoped that maybe she’d have a decent dream for once instead of the weird and sometimes frightening dreams she commonly had.

Markus quietly and gently moved her so her legs weren’t on him anymore, and he found one of the small blankets she kept around the house, covering her with it. He smiled softly at her and walked into the other room to go find something to make for her and her mother when she returned home.

#ficlet #non self insert oc #non self insert ocs #werewolf oc #witch oc #i wanna expand on love languages for these two tbh #i think cooking food for people is how markus shows affection #zonta is highkey touch starved #the last time zonta dated someone she was 15 years old #she's in her mid twenties when she meets markus #'meets' markus as if they didn't see each other a lot growing up before markus was attacked by his uncle #because they can't really remember each other at first #it takes them a while before the memories come back and they're like 'oh shit hello we knew each other for years what happened'

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amydancepants-peralta · 4 years

Text

not a trace of doubt in my mind

(trying again as Tumblr ate my earlier post ... cheers for that!)

season four of the fortunate ones, my entry into the B99 2020 vision challenge.

not a trace of doubt in my mind

There’s a photo of Jake and Amy that rests underneath a heart shaped magnet on the fridge in Amy’s kitchen. It’s been there since the previous year’s celebrations, anchored safely amongst the white metal after being rescued from the clutches of an overzealous friend, and for the past twelve months she has stared at it so often, it’s details are wholly committed to memory.

It had only been taken a year ago today, but they seemed so young then; so carefree and in love - although neither of them had plucked up the courage to admit it yet.

(That would come in another month or two, on a dance floor in the middle of the ocean where salsa dancing and bottomless shrimp were the most important things on their agenda).

With scarcely an inch between them, this frozen in time version of Jake and Amy were simply two people rejoicing the freedom that came with finally acknowledging - if not yet in words, then certainly in actions - how they really, truly felt about each other. Amy runs a finger along the edge of the photograph as she stands in front of it, lifting up the edges as though the movement could make her dress shimmer again like it had that night. She envies the couple in the frame - they hadn’t had any idea of what was to come.

But then of course, nobody could have predicted six months of heartache. Of Amy laying in her bed night after night, wrapped in one of Jake’s hoodies zipped up so high that the scent of him completely surrounded her, staring at all the photos of the two of them on her phone until she cried herself to sleep. Of the pillow propped up in the bed beside her, pressed up against her back - a mediocre replacement for the real thing; but once she knew what it was like to sleep with Jake beside her, sleeping alone simply didn’t cut it.

Months of dodging questions from family and friends and coming up with increasingly less plausible excuses every time his name came up, until finally under the cover of a room filled with music Amy had whispered the truth into her father’s ear, trusting that he would disseminate the information to the others with care. Jumping just a little bit every time the phone rang, constantly living in a state of fear that this would be the phone call that told her what she was afraid of the most - that Figgis had found them, and that the only man she had ever loved this much had been killed.

And then suddenly, he had been there - standing in front of her in a storage shed in Florida with horrifically frosted tips in his hair and a look of shock on his face, clutching his throat in response to the punch she’d just delivered. He had been gasping for air, yet still he called out her name, and it was a sound she had begun to fear she would never hear again.

It would take a gunshot wound to his leg and a private moment underneath the flashing lights of the emergency response before either would feel like them again; but on the flight back home with Jake next to her, right arm resting over her legs and fast asleep on her shoulder, Amy can feel the pieces of herself that had been shattered six months ago finally begin to rebuild.

She can hear him in her bedroom now, his footsteps creaking against the hardwood as he dresses from his shower. It was comforting, to hear Jake move about with such familiarity - to open his own drawers and go to his section of the wardrobe: a part of him already living here long before any argument between who’s apartment they’re going to live in can be won.

(And yes okay, Amy is always a fan of winning arguments. But this argument in particular, she really REALLY wanted to win.)

From the corner of her kitchen the radio that had been playing some pop song switches to an ad for grout replacement, the overloud voice of the owner blaring from it’s speakers and startling Amy out of her reverie. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, and despite numerous invitations from family and friends alike, Jake and Amy were spending the night in her apartment, just the two of them. He had suggested it a few weeks ago as the madness of the festive season had swirled around them: a night that was just for them; where they could drink and dance and sing and make love as much or as little as they liked, and nobody could interrupt. It had been such a sweetly romantic idea that Amy had pulled Jake in for a kiss as soon as he’d finished talking, and as of an hour ago both of their cell phones had been tucked away - do not disturb mode activated, not to be looked at again until the following morning.

Reaching into the fridge for a bottle of orange soda, Amy glances one last time at the couple on the fridge as she closes the door, nodding her head to the beat as a new (and slightly more familiar) song starts playing on the radio. The rest of her body catches up as she moves around the room, pulling glasses from their cupboard and mixing the soda with spirits, preparing a drink for both her and Jake as she dances around the kitchen happily.

The cap has only just been screwed back onto the bottle when two strong arms wrap around her middle, the familiar warmth of Jake enveloping Amy from all angles. His breath is hot on her skin as he drops a kiss to the side of her neck, lips trailing higher and nibbling gently on her ear. It’s a simple move, and one that he’s probably done a hundred times in the two years that they’ve been dating, but oh, how it still gives her tingles. He holds Amy close as she sways to the music, hips locking up against each other, and slowly she melts into his arms.

“Orange soda, huh?” Amy feels the vibration of Jake’s chest as he speaks, and she smiles.

“I guess you could say I’ve grown accustomed to it.” Truth was, after Jake and Holt had been scurried into witsec, there were days that Amy had literally craved the flavour, being so used to tasting it in Jake’s kisses. The oversized bottles that ended up monopolising the bottom shelf of her refrigerator had done very little to take the edge off - and served only as a placebo as she waited for her lover to come home.

Jake lands another gentle kiss, this time to her shoulder, hunching slightly so that he can rest his chin there. “Music, total privacy, my sexy girlfriend dancing, and orange drank. This night is going to be amazing. Honestly, whoever thought of this is a damn genius.”

A contented laugh falls out of Amy’s mouth as she rests her hands against Jake’s, linking their fingers together and squeezing. “You just called my dancing sexy instead of dorky. You must be in love.”

“Oh, completely.” Shifting his hands to her waist, Jake turns Amy gently until she’s facing him, gifting her with a glimpse of his beautiful smile before pulling her in for a heart-meltingly sweet kiss.

He had held her so tight the night he and Holt had to go away, tears streaming down his cheeks and pooling into her hair (only fair, because her tears had turned his shirt into a sopping mess), his arms staying wrapped around her waist. His voice had been so heavy, so thick with emotion as he had looked her in the eyes, telling Amy that he needed her to know that she was the love of his life, punctuating his declaration with a kiss that had nearly set her heart on fire.

He’d repeated the sentiment the first night they were together again, finally alone in the private hospital room that Jake’s being in Witsec had been able to afford them. With only the steady beep of his heart rate monitor to keep them company, he had kept Amy close as he could while she lay on his good side, running his fingers through her hair and telling her over and over again how he can’t believe that she is finally here. In the quiet hours of the night she learnt it all - the hot tub burritos; the terrible pizza and constant layer of sweat that remained on his skin. Months on end where he couldn’t find the energy to get out of bed: that with not a single item of hers for him to cling to, the memories of them that would appear in his dreams was the only thing that kept him sane.

But now finally - finally - with the masks of Isabel Cortez and Larry Sherbet long since banished to the back of their minds - night shifts were officially over and life was returning to normal. And tonight was just for them.

There’s a steady tap against her kitchen window as rain falls quietly onto the world outside, and as Jake’s hands roam down from her waist and onto her butt, Amy sighs softly against his lips. With her fingers tangling through his freshly cut curls, she lets the kiss continue for a while, allowing her body to be pushed up against the counter until she needs to break away for air, smiling as Jake rests his forehead against hers. The pounding of his heart is obvious against her chest and Amy leans up for one more soft kiss, grateful to know that he is still just as affected by these moments as she is.

Jake’s hands roam along the expanse of her back as he pulls away, his blinks as slow as his steps, and when Amy hands him a drink he smiles at her gratefully. His hand pauses mid-way to his lips, his eyebrows raising as he begins. “Oh! I set up a surprise for you in the living room. I meant to tell you earlier … I guess I got a little distracted,” he winks. Blushing, she takes Jake’s outstretched hand, squeezing his fingers and following him to her surprise. Her mind is doing a quick search on how long she’s been in the kitchen for - ie: how much of a mess could Jake have made in the living room - but no amount of calculations could prepare her for what her boyfriend leads her to.

He’d made a fort.

In the middle of her living room stood a perfectly balanced mixture of blankets, pillows, fairy lights and bottles of wine. Propped up by several of her dining room chairs, a soft cream blanket stretched on one side all the way to her television, repositioned to sit opposite the sofa for Optimal Fort Viewing. On the coffee table sat a stack of DVDs (a healthy mix of her favourites and his) and two of her best-smelling candles were burning over in one corner - far enough away to be considered safe from being knocked over if any *ahem* other stuff ended up happening.

It was the most dreamy setup; and something that a few years ago would have seemed completely ridiculous, but now that she was with Jake everything that once appeared crazy now felt … kinda perfect.

Amy turns towards Jake, the smile on her face growing larger by the second, and tugs him closer so she can deliver a gentle kiss to his lips. “This is amazing!” she whispers against him, and he nods, taking a quick sip of his drink before diving back in for another kiss.

(And there it is - that familiar blended taste of Jake and orange soda and home.)

She loves him, more than she thought was possible. Loves his happy smile; his arms that felt like they were made purely to wrap around her, and the way he looks at her like she just hung the moon (which, is obviously insanity - clearly it was him). He bites his lip, that sweet little action that never fails to make her heart skip a beat, and another happy sigh escapes as he leads her to the little home he had built for them.

Waiting until Amy has settled into her usual position - majority of her body leaning against his, lower body twisted slightly so that her right leg is thrown over his left - Jake dives into the edge of the couch cushions, digging until he pulls out his cell phone.

“Hey! You know the rules - no phones, Peralta!” she cries out indignantly, staring in horror.

“Relax babe, it’s still on Do Not Disturb. I’m just going to order us dinner, and then it’s getting tucked right back into the bottom of Pillow Mountain, okay?” Amy’s eyes narrow at Jake’s response, studying the sincerity in his face before nodding. “So what are you feeling like? Pizza? Chinese? Polish? All of the above?”

Resting her head against Jake’s shoulder, Amy hums a non-committing sound. From beside her, Jake clears his throat. “Man, it’s a shame we can’t order from that Thai place that’s a couple of blocks from my apartment. You know, the one that doesn’t deliver but has the really good Pad See Ew that you love? Kinda makes you think that maybe moving into my place would be better, yeah?”

Amy moves quickly, lifting her head from his shoulder and dropping her mouth open at the sheer audacity of his obvious tactic. Two can play that game, buddy. “Sure, sure, yeah. Except if we moved into your apartment, we wouldn’t be able to go to the coffee shop that’s right around the corner from here. I’m sure you remember the one. It has those chocolate muffins you’re low-key addicted to, and makes that coffee you can’t get enough of … what did you call it again? Oh that’s right, the Elixir of The Gods. We definitely wouldn’t be able to stop there every morning if we didn’t live here. In this nice, spacious apartment that is definitely not covered in black mould.”

Jake laughs, rolling his eyes slightly as he brings up the menu for the nearest pizza parlour on his phone. “Man, we are never going to come to an agreement on this one, are we? I’m going to Uber Eats this sitch and just order us pizza and Polish. Calories don’t count over the festive period. That’s a fact.”

Amy nods, returning to her previously comfortable position. “Good plan, babe.” She pauses for a moment, shaking her head. “As the whole apartment thing, I don’t know what we’re going to do.” Her free hand snakes around Jake’s middle, resting her fingers along the side seam of his shirt and playing with the ridged material. “I just … I love this apartment. I’ve got a whole binder full of reasons why it was better than anything available in the market at the time. And you’ve got practically a wardrobe’s worth of stuff here already.”

“But mine is in a cooler neighbourhood, Ames! There are funky little pop-ups opening all the time. Any day now, there’s going to be a stationery store for you to become obsessed with - I can feel it. And … it’s cheaper, and closer, and …” Jake pauses, resting his palm on her knee and stroking there softly. “I guess, now that you’ve shown me how to handle my finances like an actual adult, I’m a little less willing to part with my money when there’s a perfectly good option available for way less dollars?”

An argument over mattress replays in the back of Amy’s mind, and in an effort to distract herself she cranes her neck slightly, beginning a trail of gentle kisses along the side of Jake’s neck. “We’d be sharing the rent, babe - not paying for two places we barely use. We’d actually be saving money.”

She feels him swallow, Adam’s Apple bobbing and making his skin shift slightly as she continues her caresses. His voice is an octave lower when he finally speaks, the hand on her knee tightening its grip. “You know I can’t think straight when you’re doing that, babe.”

Amy nods. She does know. And so she continues, making sure he can feel her breath against him when she replies. “Just think about it, Jake. No thinking about which place to stay at each night, or having to buy two of everything in case you forget to bring it with you. Just you and me, and a place to call ours.”

Turning his head slightly, he captures Amy’s lips with his own, drawing her in for a heated kiss, moaning as his tongue laps gently at her lower lip. “Consider me waving the white flag for now.”

She grins, moving her hand upward until it rests against his chest. “Are you surrendering? You’ll move in here?”

“Wait, what? Oh, my bad. No white flag - Dido, nailed it - just ... no more apartment talk tonight, okay?” Jake raises his eyebrows, eyes turning that warm melted caramel colour that always seems to have a direct affect on her pulse. “I’ve thought of something way better that we can do with our mouths.”

A tiny kaleidoscope of butterflies begin to dance around Amy’s stomach, and she swears that she’s not a teenager sitting in front of her crush, but maybe tonight she is. Her body leans forward without prompting, and she murmurs - “What did you have in mind?”

He moves away from her just as quickly as she moves forward, swinging his arm out in front of them and crying out, “Smile, babe!” - clicking the shutter button on his phone before Amy has a chance to respond. It’s a mess of a photograph, blurry from the 0.03 seconds notice Jake gave before taking his shot, and Amy stares at him in confusion as he deletes the photograph, holding his phone out for another try.

“Ames?” He asks, raising his eyebrows at her digital reflection.

Putting on her best affronted face, Amy shakes her head. “Weren’t we about to do something with our mouths, detective?”

His right eyebrow raises slightly, darting his eyes over to Amy before returning to his phone. “Ah, yeah? Smiling is something you do with your mouth, babe. Man, here I was thinking that you were the smart one.”

Smiling in spite of herself, Amy shifts her eyes to the ceiling. “Whatever, Peralta.”

Jake’s breath is hot against her cheek, the sudden change kickstarting a parade of shivers down Amy’s spine. “Don’t think I couldn’t see what you were doing before with those neck kisses, Santiago. Payback’s a bitch.” Her head swivels towards the sound, mouth already open for comeback; and his lips capture hers before she has a chance to speak, drawing her in for a deep kiss. His tongue is gentle in it’s movements as it massages against hers, that familiar feeling of intimacy washing over her as he sighs softly into her mouth. She’s absolutely beaming by the time Jake pulls away, tucking her head into her little nook at the junction of his neck and shoulder and gazing happily at Jake’s phone as he holds it up again for one last attempt at a photo. It should have been impossible, to capture that amount of love in a single frame, but there it was - and only a few seconds later, it’s set as Jake’s screensaver, and Amy leans in to plant a tiny peck against the tip of his nose.

“This is our first New Years Eve together where it’s just us.” Jake mumbles, tucking his phone back under Pillow Mountain and using his free hand to knead the back of his neck. “We’re at home, with nobody creeping around trying to take photos or whatever.” His eyes land on hers, and Amy couldn’t pull away from his stare even if she tried. “You’re not trying to find the man threatening to kill me, and I’m not halfway across the country with somebody else’s name pinned to my shirt. Tonight is just you and me, Ames … and it really felt like it needed commemorating.”

“Absolutely, babe.” Amy answers, leaning back in for another quick kiss. The minuscule bulbs that stretched out over the edge of the blankets cast his face in a soft glow when she pulls away, and briefly she’s transported back three years; to a patrol car in the middle of the night with only the light of the surrounding docks to keep them company. Things had been so different then, and yet somehow still the same. (Only now, they get to kiss each other. A lot. And honestly, it’s the best.) There were a lot of emotions swirling around her this evening, and for somebody who once knew the dictionary like the back of her hand, Amy is finding it strangely difficult to find the right words. “You’re my best friend, Jake Peralta, and the love of my life. You’re it for me. And there’s no place in the world I’d rather be tonight.” Her lips press against his again, moving her hands to the either side of his face as he blushes sweetly. “I’m so in love with you. Sneaky attempts at payback and all.”

Jake laughs, wrapping his arms around Amy’s waist and pulling her closer, pressing his lips against hers as she allows herself to be tugged into his lap. She can feel her whole body melting against his as her arms rest against his shoulders, bending until her fingers are in his hair and his soft sighs are mixing with her own. There are some things that Amy could spend the rest of her life doing, and this was very close to the top of the list.

It’s a loud knock that eventually intrudes their makeout session, a mumbled delivery announcement barely audible over Amy’s TV playing in the background. Reluctantly, Amy pulls away from Jake, reaching down to muss his hair up one last time as she stands, stretching out her limbs before walking over to the door.

The delivery driver can’t have been any more than eighteen: obviously ecstatic about working on New Years Eve with his wet, crumpled uniform stretched out over a Pantera sweatshirt; grunting in Amy’s direction as she takes the items, already turning to leave before she can even say thank you. Kicking the door shut with her feet, Amy rests the pizza box along her stretched out forearm, balancing the container of pierogi’s on top and nudging open the lid so that she can breath in the familiar smell.

Mmmm. They were obviously fresh - the steam still escaping - and they smelt just like she’d hoped. Her shoulder begin to jiggle and; foregoing plates and cutlery in favour of containers on the couch with Jake, she makes her way through to the living room, butt shaking into a happy dance as she goes.

Jake looks up from pouring out two glasses of wine and winces in Amy’s direction. “Awww, honey. I don’t think that’s doing what you think it’s doing for you.”

Bouncing onto the balls of her feet, Amy struts over to Jake with a curious look. “What do you mean?”

He slaps a hand against the edge of his mouth, splaying out his fingers in a weak attempt to conceal his grin. “You’ve got some real dorky dance moves happening right there, Ames.”

“Hey! Just earlier tonight you called my dancing SEXY!”

“I mean, technically, I called YOU sexy, and then added the word dancing. But then you said something about me being in love and I just really, really wanted to kiss you, so I just kinda went with it.” His eyebrows lift, eyes turning soft as he takes in the pout that’s fallen over Amy’s face. “And … ya know, if it helps, everything about you is sexy, Ames. The dancing is just one of the more … I dunno, adorably awkward things you do.”

Settling back into the couch, Amy watches her boyfriend spread out their dinner order, dutifully laying out napkins in front of each before dishing out a generous serve of pierogis onto hers, lifting the lid on his pizza and grinning at the well-stacked toppings. Pulling out a slice he grins in Amy’s direction as the melted cheese clings to the base, creating a curtain of strings between his hand and the box, and she cannot help but laugh at the joy on his face. This man loves her, even with all of her dorky dance moves, and she just might be the luckiest woman on the planet.

The hours of the night disappear amongst distractions; glasses of wine and hours of talking about everything and anything, until the quiet concentration of the last movie disappears into a serious session of kissing - Jake laying on the couch and Amy stretched out comfortably on top of him. It had felt like forever since they’d had the chance to spend a night like this, and as Jake’s gentle hands roam over Amy’s body, she silently wishes for the night to never end. The fort that he had made for them felt like a barrier - a shield protecting them from the rest of the world, and it might have been selfish; but tonight, this is exactly what they had needed.

Tonight was about Jake and Amy: rejoicing in the fact that no matter how far the universe tried to pull them apart, the most simplest of truths was that they would always come back to each other.

Slowly, Amy rears her head back; dropping a soft kiss to Jake’s swollen lips when he cranes his neck forward in a search for more. Smiling, she presses her body against Jake’s, rolling her hips just so and biting her lip at his responding moan. Beginning a trail of kisses along his jawline, she whispers into his ear - “C’mon, Peralta. Let’s go bring in this new year with a bang.”

“Oh, hell yeah.”

Sometimes, the fireworks you make together are greater than anything the world can offer.

#established relationship cuteness #perhaps fluff overload #but I couldn't help myself #gahh I hope you all like this!#mine #b99 2020 vision challenge #b99fanfic #b99fandomevents #Peraltiago New Years Eves #NYE throughout the seasons #Peraltiago Stylez #peraltiago fic #happy chinese new year

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mandysxmuses · 4 years

Note

all symbols for coda uwu

Son, have you been sending all the symbols at once recently?

☾ - sleep headcanon

Despite how much he has seen over the course of years, Coda has always been a heavy sleeper when he gets to sleep. A train could go past his house and he could sleep like a baby anyway. Part of him believes this is due to Jinx, since she communicates with him through dreams sometimes, but according to her it’s literally just because that’s how he sleeps.

She’s also made a few “jokes” about never letting him wake up, though, so he debates over it in his head -- but it really is just him.

★ - sad headcanon

A sad headcanon did you mean his whole life

While mirrors have become a prominent fear in his life, Coda has also developed a fear of stairs, open sidewalks, and tall buildings as a result of his experiences on the other side. While our world looks a lot different from its hellish counterpart, he can’t detach a lot of it from what he’s seen, and one of the only times he’ll ever ask anyone for help is when he has to go up or down stairs.

☆ - happy headcanon

Coda rarely smiles genuinely anymore, but one of the best ways to do it is to drop a rabbit in his lap. He has some very fond memories of his only childhood pet, Choco, a brown rabbit -- and they’re something that still bring him nothing but joy.

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

While he’s much more a flight-over-fight kind of person, Coda has definitely become a lot more angry over the years. He’s prone to insulting his attackers, screaming in rage when overwhelmed, and finds himself tense and agitated by even the simplest of conversations held with everyday people.

He tried buying a punching bag to assuage some of his pent-up anger through violence rather than screaming, but promptly threw it out of his house after the mirrored version of it turned into a malformed meaty monstrosity that tried to eat him alive.

✿ - Sex headcanon

Coda has a really high libido. It really annoys him to have as high of a drive as he does given that he’s not interested in seeing anyone and he doesn’t really consider himself to have time to take care of that, but. It’s a thing.

■ - Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

He owns a one-bedroom, one-bathroom home, with all mirrors either removed or covered if he could not find a way to detach them from the wall safely. No stairs, it’s only one floor. The oven and stove do not work, and because he’s mainly surviving through “mystery money” delivered by Jinx and is unemployed, he doesn’t want to ask someone to repair it. So he eats either whatever’s in the fridge, canned things, or squints uses the microwave.

♡ - romantic headcanon

If Coda’s interested in someone, chances are he’s going to be highly embarrassed to be around them and his fear will definitely show over his frustrations. For one thing, he doesn’t exactly take care of himself and knows approaching them will only be awkward for them both. And for the other, even if by some miracle they DID hit it off, he’s scared their life would be ruined by his curse because he has accidentally taken other people to hell with him before and it has led to their deaths.

well that’s not very romantic but it’s related to romance right

♥ - family headcanon

As far as Coda knows, his only family members are gone and he doesn’t have high hopes of carrying on the family tree. His parents were the closest people he had to him and even then, they were unusually distant, their giving him Choco being one of the only kind things they did without having to. His mother and father never answer when he calls and he’s given up on contacting either of them again, though he doubts they’d answer him about the “deal” anyway.

He’s 100% certain they knew about the curse he was born into, though, and that’s why they behaved the way they did.

☮ - friendship headcanon

Jinx is the closest person Coda has to a friend right now -- which is depressing, because she’s literally declared she’s just as much an enemy of his as everyone else in hell. But being the only one who provides him with answers, even if some of them are flat-out lies, he’s spoken to her often.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

He loves video games. ... Not necessarily horror ones, but collect-a-thons in particular are very fun, and he usually uses games like that to give himself something to focus on besides literally everything else.

☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon

He loves the sunlight. Despite one’s conceptions of heat in hell, it’s never bright there, so seeing the light of day is very comforting to him despite his phobia of leaving the house.

▼ - childhood headcanon

One of his favorite video games growing up was Super Mario 64, which contributed to his love of games about collecting later on.

∇ -. old age/aging headcanon

Despite his stubble not apparent in his too-weak-for-facial-hair-faceclaim, and all the stress he’s been through, Coda appears to be a little younger than he is. He’s 27, but is often confused to be much younger both due to his mannerisms and physical appearance.

♒ - cooking/food headcanon

this is the most he can do in the kitchen honestly what IS cooking

☼ - appearance headcanon

Coda often wears thick, heavy coats and pants. They’re not exactly convenient when he’s in the mirror world but the heavy feeling offers him comfort when he’s not (and he has weighted blankets for the same reason).

ൠ - random headcanon

He has a form of sixth sense and can detect demons nearby. He believes it’s because of the curse, since said sense acts up immediately whenever he’s near a mirror.

◉ - Any other question of your choosing (Does Jinx uwu?)

Jinx is the living embodiment of how threatening uwu is.

#M; Hellish Reflections #fleurdance #body horror tw

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dweemeister · 4 years

Photo

Movie Odyssey Retrospective

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

On December 21, 1937, Hollywood’s stars and executives strode a blue carpet ushering them into a packed Carthay Circle Theatre in Los Angeles. The chilly night air typified expectations of the film premiering that evening. This was a premiere unlike any other, one for an animated feature film. During the silent film era and first decade of talkies, animated film evolved from simple gag drawings to endowing animated characters with personalities to character-driven short films heavy on slapstick (think Looney Tunes). For Walt Disney, supervising director David Hand, and the band of underpaid animators that they oversaw, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (the first cel-animated feature film; the oldest-surviving animated feature is from 1926 and the first animated feature is now lost) was a statement of purpose – an artistic culmination stemming from the Mickey Mouse shorts and especially the Silly Symphony series. But on the night of the premiere, Walt, Hand, and the animators that were invited or purchased a ticket had no clue how the audience would receive their work. With a fortune invested in the movie’s production, “Disney’s Folly” was predicted to be financially ruinous.

The lights dimmed. The audience found themselves entranced by the opening shot of the Queen’s castle; they applauded the background art when no animation was on the screen; they laughed at the dwarfs’ antics and adored the childlike Snow White. Then came Snow White’s presumed death. As her body rested in a glass coffin and the dwarfs and woodland animals tended to her wake, Walt, Hand, and the animators looked around the theater in disbelief. The calculating Hollywood executives, the pampered actors, and the cynical journalists and film reviewers sniffed their noses, some openly weeping. “Love’s first kiss” be damned; the animators, Hand, and Walt had triumphed. Walt’s dream of making animated cinema as dramatically and emotionally impactful as any live-action film had been realized. Securing the studio’s future to the temporary relief of Roy O. Disney (who managed the studio’s finances so often overspent by Walt), Snow White began the most important and accomplished run of consecutive animated features in history. By the end of that run with Bambi (1942), seldom would any animated films in the decades that followed achieve that mix of dramatic and emotional power without condescending to its audience.

I sometimes wonder about what it must have been like to be present when the Lumière brothers’ The Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat (1896 short film, France) premiered to an audience that, according to some accounts, panicked and dove out of the way as the train moved closer to the camera. Or when Atlanta Mayor William B. Hartsfield organized three days of celebration prior to the whites-only premiere of Gone with the Wind (1939). These are moments where the spectators could rightfully say they had never seen anything like the film they had watched. The same is true with Snow White’s premiere.

The Silly Symphony series allowed Walt’s animators to experiment with techniques that might be used in a feature film; the multiplane camera introduced during these short films provided depth and dimension, infusing backgrounds with atmosphere to influence emotion. Snow White utilized the multiplane camera to create the grandeur of the Queen’s castle and, perhaps most astonishingly, capturing Snow White’s disorientation and fear after the Huntsman – ordered by the Queen to murder the Fairest of Them All – spares her, beseeching her to flee. During Snow White’s flight, the lighting, fast-moving multiplane camera effects (blink or you will miss them), and the personification of nature as she descends deeper into the forest can be attributed to the innovations of Silly Symphonies, particularly The Old Mill (1937 short). The techniques found in this scene alone (yes, this includes those mysterious eyes in the dark and mossy trees that bear human faces) continue to influence countless animated films and television shows. It is magnificent artwork in any era, deserving to be taught frame-by-frame to those aspiring to make animated cinema.

The expenses taken to make Snow White required that character designs and movements portray only what is essential. Characters are designed and move in a way that helps them act in their scenes. With little experience in animating humans prior to Snow White, the title character (designed by Charles Thorson, who left Disney in protest for Warner Bros. to design Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd) and the Prince’s facial movements occasionally awkward. The Queen, who becomes larger than life with her flowing black and red cloak, is imposing – before and after drinking her transfiguring formula. But the best work is animation supervisor Fred Moore’s (pre-donkey Lampwick from 1940’s Pinocchio, Timothy Q. Mouse in 1941’s Dumbo) character design for the seven dwarfs. If one had no idea of each dwarf’s name – Doc, Grumpy, Sleepy, Happy, Bashful, Sneezy, and Dopey – prior to watching Snow White, their personalities could be guessed even without audio or motion. Their features would be terrifying in live-action, but the audience has already accepted their design because they have suspended their disbelief in magic mirrors and a princess who is understood by animals. Their body shapes and exaggerated facial features (nobody in real life has a nose like Grumpy; no drowsy person’s eyelids stay that half-shut like Sleepy’s) make each dwarf distinct, allowing the audience to recognize which dwarf is which without much confusion.

The famous “Heigh-Ho” sets this table early. When animator Shamus Culhane (a Bray Productions animator during the silent era; an uncredited co-director on 1941’s Mr. Bug Goes to Town from Fleischer Studios) was assigned the sequence where the dwarfs march home, it took him and his assistants a half-year to complete the animation. With direction from Hand and Moore, Culhane was directed to have the dwarfs march to the tempo of the musical number, but to bestow each with their own physicality. For a moment that lasts less than fifty seconds within a song, Culhane and his assistants’ painstaking labors set the standard of granular detail and individuality that the animating teams working on Snow White took upon themselves. Snow White’s seven dwarfs are brilliant comic actors, prancing in front of gorgeous watercolor backgrounds. The character design practices implemented in Snow White were improved on each entry of Disney’s Golden Age (which I demarcate as Snow White to Bambi). This development saw the early Disney animated features – along with the best Technicolor films of the 1930s and ‘40s such as The Wizard of Oz (1939) – become instrumental in setting Western cinema’s color coding, where characters and backgrounds express ideas and emotions in conjunction with character and production design.

As Snow White is a fairy tale, so it has the logic of one. In a time where filmmakers and audiences obsess over plot rather than character-driven emotion and themes, viewers could be taken aback by how abruptly Snow White changes moods and the title character’s behavior. Snow White has been ridiculed by some feminist critics, but I find that many of their justified concerns about the character – from her unprompted cleaning of the dwarfs’ house and her pining for a handsome man to whisk her away upholding gendered roles – are too often based on the assumption that she is a woman and that this film was intended for children. That is incorrect on both counts. Snow White in the original Grimm fairytale is a child, and in Disney’s version she has been thankfully aged up to (or is on the cusp of becoming) an adolescent. Walt made a film appealing to people of any age, hoping that its humor and pathos could be accessible to all.

Snow White, a young girl who has known nothing but submission to her stepmother, the Queen, is quite naïve, knowing little of the dangers outside the castle walls. Her stepmother’s obsession of physical beauty has influenced how she thinks, especially as she seeks personal validation from others (be it the Prince or the dwarfs). In the context in which she was raised, her passivity is understandable. Even if that means Snow White is a passive, unambitious character, her gentleness, which remains after the trauma with the Huntsman, is what makes her the fairest of them all. Characters act the way they do because of her compassion. Snow White, with her romantic longings, probably should not be emulated, but she sets the template that the most fascinating Disney animated heroines have built on.

One of the common themes in fairy tales is the assumption of increasing responsibilities as an individual matures. Though far more obvious in Pinocchio and Bambi (the latter is not a fairy tale), this dynamic also exists in Snow White. With the Queen’s physical and sexual withering, it is Snow White’s time, the film implies, to become an adult – adulthood arrives at differing times among human cultures. Her interactions with the dwarfs serve as a kind of rehearsal for adulthood, effectuated the moment the Prince revives her. These adult responsibilities are communicated through the gendered lens of mainstream 1930s filmmakers. When a female character is the star in a Disney animated canon film, how these responsibilities are portrayed and related to the protagonist depend on how each film’s writers understood gendered roles of their respective eras – the submissiveness of the 1930s; the corporate (in the negative sense), sloganeering feminism of the 2010s; and the rare exceptions. No matter the Disney animated film, those themes of one’s duties in the natural order are omnipresent across the canon. Such lessons are not only for children. Don’t let those dismissive of animated cinema (especially if they think that film history can be written without the Disney animated canon) tell you otherwise.

Musical films became possible after the introduction of synchronized sound, which heralded the end of the silent film era. In the early talkie years, studios – looking to experiment with sound – saturated theaters with musicals. Across the 1930s, the popularity of the genre rose and fell. Snow White arrived at a low tide for musicals, with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers’ partnership nearing its end and Shirley Temple, though still a massive draw, approaching her teenage years. Yet 1937 proved one of the most important years in musical film history, as those that adored Snow White linked animated features with musicals (the fact that Snow White boasted the world’s first soundtrack album for a film also helped). It is not coincidental that when Fleischer Studios set forth on Gulliver’s Travels (1939) – distributed by Paramount – as their response to Snow White, that film was also a musical. This link has proven resilient to the present day – pointless and unimaginative metatextual scoffing aside.

The creators of this early Disney sound are composer Frank Churchill (numerous Disney shorts and features from 1930 until Bambi) and lyricist Larry Morey (select shorts and Bambi) on the songs and composers Paul J. Smith (Pinocchio and 1954’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea) and Leigh Harline (Pinocchio, Mr. Bug Goes to Town) for the score. Despite the audio quality showing its age and the somewhat limited orchestra, the collective musical work is sublime, representing one of the greatest musical movie soundtracks as well as one of the best film scores of all time.

After a grand overture from Smith and Harline, “I’m Wishing/One Song”, considered a single song with two halves, is sung by Snow White (Adriana Caselotti and her distinctive high-pitched voice that is perfect for the character), then the Prince (Henry Stockwell). Simple are the lyrics. In a world of love at first sight, we learn so much about Snow White, the Prince, and the Queen in just three minutes. Delicate strings and a subtle harp line reflect Snow White’s longing and the Prince’s passion (listen closely to the score from start to finish and you’ll hear a rare film score where the harpist does plenty of emotional heavy lifting). The second half, “One Song” introduces us all too briefly to Stockwell’s beautiful singing voice – a type of voice that would all but disappear from popular music after the 1930s ended – and lyrics that, to reiterate, seem simple but are tremendously evocative.

One song I have but one song One song Only for you

One heart Tenderly beating Ever entreating Constant and true

Other musical highlights appear as Snow White flees into the forest (a dynamic example of action scoring in a Disney animated film), as well as her accompaniment through the forest by the woodland animals with, “A Smile and a Song”. Soon after, “Whistle While You Work” appears as the film is barely thirty minutes in. “Heigh-Ho” follows immediately after that. Snow White is packed with hit songs that have gained pop culture cachet outside the film. The weakest song in Snow White might be “Dwarf’s Washing Song”, which adds nothing to the dwarfs’ characterization but exemplifies how committed the musical team are in supporting the animators’ use of slapstick. When articulating the Queen’s villainy and second act transformation, Smith and Harline depend on string tremolos and churning strings and brass to reflect her whirlwind of fury.

Snow White’s signature song speaks to her nascent romantic desires. In the film’s greater subtext, it is also about her coming of age, the end of childhood, to take her place in what she believes is the natural order of things. “Someday My Prince Will Come”, in a slow three-quarter time evoking a Strauss waltz, allows Caselotti to breathe. Listen to Caselotti’s musical phrasing. In each luftpause, Churchill’s music and Morey’s lyrics allow the lines to rise and fall between two words, imbuing each bar with torrents of feeling. The same thing exists in “I’m Wishing/One Song”, to breathtaking results. “Someday My Prince Will Come” is popular among jazz musicians due to its chord structure, becoming a jazz standard when a Jewish band named the Ghetto Swingers, taking inspiration in the song’s hope for happier days ahead, performed the song at Theresienstadt concentration camp in 1943.

No one composes songs like “Someday My Prince Will Come” or “I’m Wishing/One Song” in films anymore – yes, I realize how trite that statement is – as modern composers and lyricists working in musical films/theater oftentimes try to fill out a meter with a repeated lyric (which, to my ears, is an admission of creative surrender) or, more interestingly to yours truly, rely more on ballad-like tunes. The voices of Caselotti and Stockwell lend well to the compositions they sing – reminiscent of Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy’s musical movies at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) in the 1930s. The partnership of Churchill, Morey, Smith, and Harline produced a stunning musical gift to audiences, setting the Disney musical sound that would last through the mid-century.

As the attendees of Snow White’s premiere left in jubilation, few could have imagined how complete Disney’s victory would be. Charlie Chaplin extolled the film as surpassing even his wildest expectations; esteemed director Cecil B. DeMille expressed his desire to make films like Snow White. Hugh Harman and Rudolf Ising, who founded Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies for Warner Bros. and were currently Disney’s rivals at MGM, sent a telegram: “Our pride in the production is scarcely less than yours must be and we are grateful to you for fulfilling an ambition which many of us have long held for our industry.” In Europe, the admiration was just as vocal. Snow White’s native Germany received Disney’s adaptation ecstatically; the nation’s then-leader – soon to set Europe and North Africa aflame – considered it a great cinematic achievement. In the Soviet Union, the state media praised the dwarfs for reflecting communist ideals; outside of the Kremlin’s propagandists, no less than Sergei Eisenstein – the director of the most infamous massacre scene in cinematic history – proclaimed Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs as the greatest film ever made.

After cinemagoers made Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs the highest-grossing film of all time when adjusting for inflation, Walt Disney, David Hand, and their crewmembers knew that the world’s expectations for animated feature films had been raised to unimaginable heights. The studio – soon to be housed in a Burbank headquarters designed and constructed thanks to the profits from Snow White – continued to make short films including Mickey Mouse and friends, but short films would no longer be its focus. The Disney animators soon set themselves to work on four history-altering films: a wooden boy who learns selflessness and integrity, a “concert feature”, a pachyderm who triumphs because of his difference, and the growth of the Young Prince of the Forest. Despite the financial windfall of Snow White, Disney did not distribute their own films – RKO distributed all Disney (which did not become a major studio until the 1990s) films until 1956 – and Snow White was the only Golden Age Disney film that was an immediate financial success upon release (the others would recoup their costs after 1945).

During Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’ release and in the years immediately after, the world was shattered by violence and remade. Like its fellow great films of the 1930s, Snow White provided solace to those seeking escape from global forces beyond their control. But few of its contemporaries could be said to have been as influential. Almost every animated film – no matter its origin, style, or year released – owes something to Snow White. Animated film has existed since the nineteenth century and there were animated features before its release. Cinema is one of the youngest of artforms, but the mythos of Snow White does not look likely to change. It is the beginning of animated cinema as we know it.

My rating: 10/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was upgraded from an initial score of 9/10. It is the one hundred and sixtieth feature-length or short film I have rated a ten on imdb.

This is the fourteenth Movie Odyssey Retrospective. Movie Odyssey Retrospectives are reviews on films I had seen in their entirety before this blog’s creation or films I failed to give a full-length write-up to following the blog’s creation. Previous Retrospectives include Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939), Dumbo (1941), and Oliver! (1968).

NOTE: This is the 700th full-length Movie Odyssey review I have published on tumblr.

#Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs #Snow White #Walt Disney #David Hand #Adriana Caselotti #William Cottrell #Wilfred Jackson #Larry Morey #Perce Pearce #Ben Sharpsteen #Fred Moore #Charles Thorson #Shamus Culhane #Frank Churchill #Paul J. Smith #Leigh Harline #My Movie Odyssey

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neohighwayv · 5 years

Text

Someone like you

Characters: NCT / WayV Hendery x You

Genre: fluff, romance

Word count: 1.6k

Description: It’s nice to find someone like you – a kindred soul that enjoy a sappy love story late at night.

Credits: needyourlight; Instagram

------

[00:28]

The ending credits of the movie rolls across the screen, the words in big yellow fonts glossing over your eyes as a miniature version of the credits form a reflection on your round orbs. You stay in your seat unblinking at the screen, your eyes no longer focused on the image on the screen as your thoughts drift back to the movie just now.

It was supposed to be a romantic film, but you found it to be more than that. It was a poignant story of the growing pains of being a teenager: struggling to make your identity as you navigate your awkward, developing body, the pains of a missed first love, and ultimately of these imperfect pieces forming your personal story of your youth. As the climax approaches, you find yourself trying to choke back sobs as the female lead weeps for a lover that is already too far gone for her to reach, the notion of “what could have been” too much for the audience to bear. There was not a dry eye in the house that night. It was a bittersweet movie, the kind that made you smile and cry at the same time. Perhaps the kind of healing a tender soul like yours needed.

When the screen turns black and the lights come on, you’re reminded that you’re no longer alone in the great hall as the employees’ flit between rows of seats, working with trained efficiency to clean up the spilled popcorn on the carpeted floor and between the seats. Gathering up your small bag, you bow your head as you take your leave, thanking the staff with a small voice as you proceed to leave the venue, who respond with an equally soft voice and a small smile added at the end. Making your way past the red carpeted floor, you step out into the deep night, the bustle of the city gradually slowing down as the noises slowly fade out. The lone car that passes by in front of you causes a momentary disruption to the otherwise quiet night, but the silence soon resumes, the peaceful night giving you some tranquillity. The pink of your sneakers turns dark pink as the last few raindrops land on them, the final one landing square in the middle of your white shoelaces, and you watch as the dot spreads wider. It’s almost like you're held in a trance, unable to tear your eyes away.

You're broken from your trance when the heavy brass doors to the cinema swing shut behind you, causing a low thud to reverberate through the night sky. Your feet start moving on its own, bringing you back to the familiar route home. You walk through the dark and silence with ease; you've done this a million times and nothing has ever happened. You don't expect anything to happen tonight.

Except that it does.

The occasional bark of a dog and rustling of leaves does little to conceal the soft footsteps behind you, and fear seizes your heart momentarily. You hazard a look across your shoulder, and true enough, you catch sight of a pink hoodie in your peripheral vision, one as bright as your shoes. You try to keep your body language neutral, hoping that you're just overthinking, that he'll take a turn down the next street and stop following you. But when you turn into your street and he was still right behind you, it was unmistakable. He was tailing you right from the beginning and you had to put a stop to it now. You were self-assured, you knew you could take him down if you really had to. Swivelling on the balls of your feet, you turn to stare at the stalker dead in the eye.

Except that you found it hard to find his eyes.

His mop of long hair was plastered to his forehead by a black cap, completely obscuring his orbs. For the briefest moment, you wondered how he could follow you when his vision was almost completely obscured, but the tense situation immediately brought you back to your senses, preparing your body for a flight-or-fight response.

“Just so you know, I am perfectly capable of protecting myself, with a black belt in Aikido and years of fighting my numerous siblings for things. So, if you’re planning on attacking me, I suggest you leave now.”

You bring up your clenched fists in front of your face to show that you meant business, and the mysterious boy raised his hands up in defeat, both palms opening wide to face you.

“Woah woah, calm down! You’ve got the wrong idea!”

“How so?”

You narrow your eyes at him and toughen your stance, making it very clear that you’re not buying his story. Very carefully, the boy lowered his hands to his sides, biting onto his lower lip as he contemplated on how to tell you the truth. Placing a hand on his hip, he brought the other one up to scratch behind his head, before telling you the answer in a soft and unsure voice.

“I just...wanted to be...friends..?”

“WHAT?”

Your loud exclamation frightened the poor boy, causing him to jump backwards as he raised his hands once again to defend himself.

“It’s true! I’m not lying to you! I saw you at the cinema and you were the last one to leave and I just thought…”

The gears in your brain start whirring at their full speed, playing back the entire memory from when you first enter the hall to the last moment that you left. And you remember now. You remember him. You stole a quick glance at him as you ascended the shallow steps to get to your seat, mumming your lips together to stop the smile on your face. He stood out from the dark theatre in his pink outfit, an adorable yet unconventional look for a male. Yet taking a closer look at him now… you realise that the colour suited him. A lot. It was almost like the colour pink was made for him. Bringing your attention back to the present, your eyes stop to rest on his face, helping him to complete the last of his sentence.

“And you just thought…?”

“I just thought that it would be good to make friends with someone that enjoys late night movies like myself, in particular, one that enjoys a sappy love story.”

He says it with so much sincerity and a sparkle in his eyes that it was impossible to not believe him and now that he’s swept his hair away from his face, you realise that he couldn’t hurt a fly.

He has the brightest doe eyes and they sparkle brightly under the weak light of street lamp. He gives you a tight-lipped smile, the corner of his lips lifting up ever so slightly – just to let you know that he meant no harm. You decide there and then, that you can trust the guy. If things went south – well – at least you knew you could still take him down. Besides, he was right. Being friends with someone that enjoyed a sappy love story late at night wouldn’t be such a bad thing, right?

“Well then, my newly acquired friend, what do you propose for our first activity together?”

You watch as his face lights up with your question, his lips now wide open to reveal a neat row of small pearly whites.

Cute.

You have to suppress a smile upon seeing the sight, not wanting to appear like a creep in front of him.

“A self-introduction. Then supper.”

“You first.”

“Ok! My name is Hendery, or you can call me Guanheng if you want to! What’s yours?”

His attention is fully on you now, very much like an adorable puppy waiting for his owner’s next move.

“Hi Hendery, my name is Y/N. Now, where to for supper?”

“Y/N, what a pretty name~ How about the ice cream place on the next street? Also, I apologise for stalking you just now, I needed some time to work up my courage.”

“NEO WAY? Sure. They make a pretty amazing lime sherbet; you should try that. And well, while you nearly gave me a heart attack, I’m just glad that you’re not a creep.”

“No, I’m not a creep. Is lime sherbet your favourite ice cream flavour?”

“Yes. Yours?”

Unknowingly, Hendery had managed to step up to stand beside you and was now leading the way by walking backwards, facing you so that he can talk to you.

“I’m not sure, I never really thought about it. But I can tell you my favourite colour.”

“And what would that be?”

Hendery halts in his steps, and he was now facing you with a very straight face before announcing in a serious voice:

“I like pink.”

He even added a head flick at the end of it, but his cap had fallen off his head in the process. Yet Hendery wasn’t even fazed in the slightest by it, he simply picked it up and dusted it before replacing it on his head, chuckling at his own silliness the entire time. Here was a man that was not shy to make a fool of himself, and that was refreshing to you. You laughed along with him, letting you know that you’re in with him on this.

“I should have guessed. The pink hoodie is clearly making a statement, and the colour suits you so well.”

“Thanks Y/N. I’m so jealous of your pink shoes.”

“If it fits, you can have it.”

“Really?!”

You nod your head vigorously, unable to keep the smile in anymore. The moment you turn to meet his eyes, both of you knew a special connection had been made – and maybe, just maybe – this would be the start of a magical adventure for both parties.

It’s nice to finally find someone like you.

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redfoxwritesstuff · 5 years

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The Things You Find (In The Rain) Tom Hiddleston x ofc Chapter 1

Good Morning, everyone. Here it is, as promised, chapter one of four. As is always the case with my writing, this is OC concentric. Thank @winterisakiller because she’s an awesome cheerleader who has watched this develop from a one shot to four chapters as Maggie’s story unfolded. Tag lists are always open.

Series warnings: Cheating, light violence, unhealthy relationships, Evan’s an ass

Chapter warnings: Evan’s an ass, unhealthy relationships, cheating, Light sexual content (nothing explicate)

Summary: Maggie and Evan had just married and were honeymooning in London. He was a difficult man but Maggie was a kind and forgiving soul. She loved him with all she was and when that is thrown away, not even 72 hours after they said their ‘I Do’s, what’s a girl to do? Except perhaps hit up ever bar her feet can take her to while the night sky opens up above her. When Tom’s out walking Bobby in the rain, he’s thankful. It’s true that beast will come into the house muddy and wet. He’ll even likely make a mess. But in the rain, even fewer were out this time of night and he was allowed the simple peace of walking around the park like any other man. In the rain no one expected him to take pictures with them. No one expected him to sign anything. In the rain, no one expected anything of him.

Chapter 1

Maggie gathered her wavy brown hair behind her head and secured it with a band, though it was a challenge in the cramped too cold space of the airplane without elbowing the sleeping woman sitting next to her. She leaned her head onto Evan’s shoulder, stealing what comfort she could from the two pillows behind his back and closed her eyes for a moment with the goal of stealing a few moments of rest herself.

It had been a busy day, full of stress and excitement both but so worth it in the end. Early this morning, or perhaps it was technically yesterday due to the time changes, she had married the man she hoped would be her forever. The day had begun before dawn but was magical, just as he had said it would be. In the end, she felt silly for doubting him. Getting married while standing in the morning dew had been picture perfect.

Still, she was tired after spending what amounted to half a day on the plane after the short reception. Today (or yesterday?) their lives together would begin and Maggie felt hopeful as she peeked out the window before closing her eyes again.

Evan forcefully shrugged his shoulder before pushing her back into her seat while grumbling, “Get your big head off me. I’m trying to sleep.”

Maggie understood, he was tired. He probably hadn’t slept well the night before. She knew she hadn’t slept more than a few passing moments before her four in the morning wake up call in the form of her now Mother-in-law arrived. It was true, he had gotten to sleep in longer than her on the morning of their wedding but at this point anyone would have been running on fumes.

She understood and Maggie forgave. That’s what she was good at, after all. Her friends and family sung praises for how she could understand any hardship and forgive any trespass.

Landing in London was a whirlwind of activity not dissimilar to her wedding, though a whole different event. Evan was snappy with everyone they encountered but she had expected as much. He never did seem to function well on less than nine hours of sleep. Still they both had managed to catch a good amount of sleep during the nearly ten hour flight and when they managed to land Evan was adamant that they needed to quickly adjust to the new time zone.

The trip was to last three weeks and Maggie was excited. She’d never been to London. In truth, she had hardly ever left the small town she had grown up in. It was a blessing she had ever met Evan. His plane had been grounded in the small town airport due to a mechanical failure of some sort. He had been on his way to a business meeting in New York and was already dressed in a sharp suit. She fell in love the moment her eyes met his across the airport gift shop.

She tried to take in all the sights she could as Evan loaded their suitcases up into the taxi. This was a whole new country, one she had never even begun to dream of visiting. Now she was getting to honeymoon here with the man who opened the door to the world for her.

He got short with the driver just as he had been with everyone else. Still, Maggie tried to put it out of mind. He was tired. They would rest and he would feel better after. He would be better after.

“We’ll check into the hotel and head out for dinner.”

“Let’s order in instead?” Maggie offered. She was tired, she didn’t want to change and go out. What she wanted was to slip into some pajamas and curl up in front of the TV watching god knows what and eating whatever they could get delivered to the door. Sipping a glass of wine in the arms of the man she promised forever to would make it all the better.

“It’s our first day as man and wife. We need to go out and be together.” Evan stated as if that was a law written somewhere.

“Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A shower and a change of clothes later, Maggie was rushed as she put her makeup on. Foundation worked wonders to make her appear more awake. Evan complained about how long she was taking and so she put aside her desire to do anything fancy with her eye makeup. Rather, she grabbed a few trusty colors and the same eyeliner she wore every day and did what a slightly fancier version of her everyday look.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she tried to spot what he saw in her. Her brown hair was a controlled mass of waves. Overall, she found herself to look average. She so badly wanted to look beautiful, to feel beautiful. If she had taken the time, maybe she could have but today it simply wasn’t to be.

They went to a french restaurant and Evan ordered for them right away. Maggie hadn’t even gotten a chance to look at the menu but she wasn’t surprised. He was so much more cultured than she, his choice was probably what she would have defaulted to anyway.

At one point she found this sort of behavior romantic but now she simply found it tiring. She would again come to love his thoughtful recommendations of food when they dine out, in time. It was surely because of him that she liked most of unknown things she had tried. Still, she had married the man and so she would learn to love things about him that she had found herself struggling with in the recent months.

That was what her parents advice had been to her when she confided in them her struggles. It takes compromise to make a marriage work, her father had said. Her mother spoke of not always loving her father in the same way, that their love was always shifting and changing. She chewed her lips as she watched her father look at her mother with unashamed adoration. Their lesson was that love changes over time and that she must be willing to be flexible with her heart so that she and Evan would always come back together.

Evan was more interested in his phone than he was her during their meal. With a heavy heart, she poked at her pasta, pushing it around the plate with her fork and drank first one glass of wine than another. She had wanted to spend time with him, to talk with him and be together. Wasn’t that the point of going out for dinner?

Going to London was something she had dreamed of her whole life. Still, she knew he had to work and was likely working remotely even as they sat and ate. She needed to allow him to do so. It was through his work that he was able to provide for her and support them. This trip wasn’t something he really wanted to take in the first place. It was his wedding gift to her. She should be thankful. She would be thankful.

After a dinner largely eaten in silence, Evan surprised her with the suggestion of going to the first pub they had seen across the street. It was starting to get late, she was tired- so very tired- but the atmosphere and energy of the room gave her a second wind. Still, Evan was focused on his phone mainly as they drank their first drinks, an ale and yet another glass of wine. Maggie ordered herself a second drink and once it arrived Evan rather suddenly downed the rest of his ale as if he were a man in the desert.

Sliding the empty glass toward the bartender, Evan announced, “I’m going back to the hotel.”

“I’ll come with you.” Maggie rushed to stand but he put a heavy hand on her shoulder and pushed her back into her seat. It was almost painful, but she told herself she would grow to love the way he made sure she didn’t put herself last just because he was tired.

“Stay. Don’t waste your drink. This is what you wanted anyway.” Maggie wasn’t sure what to say as she watched him walk away. If she pushed to go with him he would just get upset. And she did just get another drink. He was tired, she told herself as she settled in to finish her drink.

Once the glass was empty she was left to debate if she should go back or not. She was so tired and more than a bit tipsy from the two glasses of wine at dinner and two at the pub.

A smile graced her lips as she stepped outside and began the short walk to the hotel. This trip was a dream come true even if it didn’t always go according to how she would like it.

Maggie’s heels clicked against the sidewalk as a light, almost misting rain began to fall. It felt good. The city lights seemed to blink and dance around her and for a short moment she felt like she was living in her own fairy tale. So what if today wasn’t the magical day she had hoped for- there was tomorrow. And they day after. They had the rest of their lives to spend together making magical memories.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maggie didn’t think anything of the evening as she walked down the hall. It hadn’t been the best night for them as a couple but that was how it goes. At least, she told herself that. She wanted to believe it. With a deep breath, Maggie slipped her keycard into the lock of the suite door and her whole world shattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door opened easily under her touch. The lights in the hall seemed suddenly too harsh. The room was cool and she could hear the room’s AC unit running. Everything was wrong in that way that’s just subtle enough that you can’t quite put your finger on it in the moment. Evan didn’t like to sleep in a cold room. The only time he liked to be in a cool room was when making love.

The sound of moans slowly penetrated her ears. It was probably the television, she told herself. Still the idea that he went back to the hotel to get himself off while watching a cheap movie when he could have her stung. They were just married, had he already grown bored with her body? Was she not pleasing to him anymore?

She stepped into the short hall and closed the door behind her softly. Taking a moment to let him finish up, she opened the clutch purse that hung from her shoulder by a delicate chain and pulled out her cards and set them on the table by the door. It would make remembering to switch purses easier in the morning.

It felt like she was moving through a fog. In the main room she could see flickering light as if he had lit candles. Had he intended for her to rush back, follow him for a romantic surprise? Had Evan resorted to pleasuring himself when she ruined his plan? That would be just like her, to not catch on to what probably had been obvious clues.

The sounds in the room slowly became clearer in her mind. Hesitant steps took her closer even as a ball of liquid iron seemed to take residence in her stomach. She could hear Evan’s moans and in her heart she knew he wasn’t giving himself pleasure. She knew.

The moans of a woman seemed to stab at her heart with each breathy cry. The headboard of the bed lightly tapped against the wall. With tears in her eyes, Maggie stepped out of the hallway bringing the bed into view. Her whole future shattered before her eyes as the first tear slipped down her cheek.

It’s weird, the things that the mind focuses on in times of great trauma and distress. Later, she would remember vividly the view of Evan’s ass moving and how she had somehow never noticed the large three moles on his left ass cheek. It occurred to her that he was always quick to dress, if he ever actually lost all his clothes in the first place after sleeping together.

Now however, he was bare as the day his mother had birthed him as he moved above a woman. She had a dark tan, one like Maggie would never be able to sport- she burned for too easily. The woman also had dark straight hair, nearly black. Maggie wondered what color her eyes were as she watched the woman’s back arc up and press her full breasts up into Evan’s chest.

A lusty moan slipped out from between the woman’s lips as Maggie watched Evan’s left hand grip the woman’s thigh, pulling her leg up higher along his waist. Vividly, she saw that his left hand was unadorned. The ring that had not even lived on his thick finger for a week was absent.

“Allie.”

The sound of Evan moaning what Maggie could only assume was the woman’s name cut her straight to her core like a red hot knife. That small part of her heart that was somehow still in one piece shattered within her chest. Floodgates opened and tears began to fall in earnest from her wide eyes as she looked on in stunned silence.

Maggie reached out blindly, bracing herself against the dresser as she watched her husband pound into another woman. He fucked her like he had never fucked Maggie and she wondered if something was wrong with her. Surely there had to be a reason why he showed such passion with this unknown women. There had to be a reason why he moaned softly in her ear, called out her name. She had to have something that Maggie lacked.

Her knees gave out and she crashed against the dresser. The palm of her hand slid across the smooth surface and her fingers smashed against the large glass jar candle. The liquid wax sloshed over the edge and burned her fingers before the jar was sent to the ground, spilling what was left of the was on the expensive hotel carpet.

She cried out and clutched her hand to her chest as she fell to the ground in a heap. Evan sat up quickly, shoving the startled woman off the bed as if Maggie was some sort of baby and simply having the naked woman out of sight would remove her existence from her mind.

“Maggie-” His mouth was moving but there was no sound. She tried to listen, really she did. He had to have a reason. There had to be an explanation. It would be a good one. It would make sense. It would be right.

She couldn’t hear what he was saying over her own blood rushing in her ears. The pain in her hand was subsiding as she rubbed the wax off and staggered to her feet. The world was spinning and yet somehow she could clearly see Evan rushing to his feet, pushing a pillow into his crotch to cover himself.

Each step he took toward her made bile rise in her throat. He was talking, saying something but she couldn’t focus on the words enough to hear them. She expected him to look sorry or remorseful. Even horrified would have been an expected reaction. Instead, he looked angry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tom Hiddleston was a man in high demand recently. His career had taken off with his role in the Avengers films and there was nothing he looked forward too as much as time at home where he had to do nothing except be himself. He would have the freedom to do everything he wanted and nothing he didn’t wish to do.

It was a simple pleasure not too long ago he had often enough. Not long ago at all, he got to sleep in his bed most nights. He was beyond blessed to have his career on the path it is on. But right now, all he could think about is how he felt beyond lucky to sleep in his own bed for the first time in a solid three months. Right this second, all he knew is he was beyond lucky that Ben was out of town tonight and he would get to do nothing.

Today he wasn’t getting to do nothing all day however. Today he had spent his morning in meetings, promotional interviews by phone, Skype and one radio show. Tom wanted to sleep when he got home. He wanted to sleep for a year, eat his weight in pasta and cuddle with Bobby.

He could try to do two of those things at least. One for sure. But sleeping for a year would be hard to accomplish with his work schedule, light though it may be at the moment. Part of him contemplated how much of a hit his career would take if he did actually take a year off, rested and simply invested some time in his friends and family. He knew he couldn’t stand not working for that long but it was a nice daydream.

Looking up at the gray sky, he was pretty sure it would be a wet run tonight unless things cleared up. Rain was clearly on the way. The forecast had called for clearing skies but that had begun to look less and less likely as they day wore on. It was typical weather though no less unpleasant.

Yes, tonight he would take Bobby out for a run- rain or shine. Get them both nice and tired. Order in a late night snack and collapse on the couch and watch whatever was on. For a few short hours he could pretend to be normal and rest.

Still, somewhere deep in his heart there was a sense of foreboding. He couldn’t place his finger on it but a sense of dread had taken up residence within his chest and mind. It was probably the fatigue, he told himself. It was probably the increasingly poor weather. Really, it could have been any number of things.

He had a dinner meeting with some producers that he had to head off too before he could go home. From there, if he was lucky they wouldn’t invite him out for drinks after. Then he could be home. He could change out of the slightly too tight suit and into a loose pair of shorts and an old tee shirt and simply run until the tension worked from him. On his way back he could order up a snack, a tasty treat for how hard he had been working.

It was oddly relaxing, running. He looked forward to it as much as he looked forward to stretching out on the couch and watching TV or reading a good book after. He just had to make it through the day. After today, he had the rest of the week free. He just had to make it through today and the interviews would be done for a few weeks at least.

“Mr. Hiddleston, I apologize for the delay.” The driver’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.

“It’s no trouble.”

Tom offered a warm smile to the man he hadn’t noticed pulled up and in front of him. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard the car door open until the driver spoke. He needed to pull himself together. Just a few more hours and then he could have a much needed break.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Tag List: @dangertoozmanykids101, @alexakeyloveloki, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna, @bambamwolf87, @j-u-s-t-4, @wegingerangelica, @missaphrodite23, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @michelegurl

#tom hiddleston x ofc #Tom Hiddleston X Original Character #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x original female character

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dustedmagazine · 4 years

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Various Artists — Dreams to Fill the Vacuum: The Sounds of Sheffield 1978-1988 (Cherry Red Records)

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By the late 1970s Sheffield was on the edge. The erstwhile industrial powerhouse was crumbling under the weight of recession, the decline of manufacturing, rising unemployment and the degradations of Conservative Party policies and especially Margaret Thatcher’s war on labor and the welfare state. A common theme in the contemporary history of other great northern economic centers like Manchester, Liverpool and Leeds that formed the backdrop to the fecund art and music scenes that germinated among the ruins.

Dreams to Fill the Vacuum: The Sounds of Sheffield 1978-1988 showcases a decade of experimentation over four CDs and 83 tracks. The cadences of the once busy factories, the frustrations of the unemployed, the fury of those left on the shelf, the DIY ethos fueled by punk, restless experimentation; it’s all here from ragged noise to slick white funk, from electronic noodling to industrial noir, post –punk to indie jangle. Future MTV staples The Human League, ABC and Thompson Twins, underground legends Clock DVA and The British Electric Foundation, early showings from present day Sheffield treasures Jarvis Cocker and Richard Hawley and a raft of coulda-beens, shoulda-beens and never-weres lovingly brought to light by the ever digging folk at Cherry Red who have already excavated gold from Scotland (Big Gold Dreams), Manchester (Manchester North Of England) and Liverpool (Revolutionary Spirit).

Although Cabaret Voltaire do not appear their influence is felt as inspirations, producers and owners of the famous Western Works studio which was housed in a derelict cutlery factory and has since been demolished.

Disc One 1977-1981 opens with an early instrumental from The Human League. “Dancevision” unites the band’s familiar synths and drum machines with a rumbling punkish bass line that sounds like a cross between Warsaw and OMD. They Must Be Russians contribute a lesson on STD’s taken from a student nurses’ pamphlet interspersed with an insistent guitar thrash on the hilarious but danceable “Don’t Try to Cure Yourself”. I’m So Hollow’s single that provides the box set’s title is classic early post-punk that sounds timeless with its snare heavy beat, thick layers of guitar, straight ahead bass and earnest vocals. B Troop’s “Junior” adds saxophone, keyboards and funk-influenced bass to the mix from whence the sound of post New Romantic white English soul peeps out. The Toy Shop provides “The Maze” a nicely warped piece of synth pop augmented by choppy guitar and a carnivalesque keyboard riff.

Disc Two: 1981-1982 starts with the extended version of Heaven 17’s still relevant “(We Don’t Need This) Fascist Groove Thang” a mix tape staple that sound-tracked every student party in the day. Further highlights like Surface Mutants’ excellent dub experiment “Train”, Clock DVA’s industrial noir single “4 Hours” with its wailing clarinet, superb bass line and Adi Newton’s tale of urban alienation, Flying Alphonso Brothers’ “War Games” an Aztec Camera like piece of melodic indie pop, the new wave thump of Shy Tots “English Industrial Estate”, the proto-goth of Stunt Kites’ “Deity’s Lament” are worth the admission price.

Clock DVA

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Disc Three 1982-1984 features an early incarnation of Pulp with young Jarvis Cocker showing a glimpse of what the future held on “Everybody’s Problem”, the avant-jazz influenced “Intruder In The Dust” by Bass Tone Trap, In The Nursery’s industrial dance track “Iskra”, Tsi-Tsa’s single “Billingham’s Island” which sounds like Icicle Works straining to be the Bunnymen. Chakk’s “Out Of The Flesh” shows the influence of producers Cabaret Voltaire’s machine funk. Defective Turtles are more straight ahead on “Silicon Chip” with its pub rock guitars elevated by a jerky rhythm section and sax sound cribbed from X-Ray-Spex, both good.

As the decade progresses the music becomes both technically more proficient and sonically more sophisticated sacrificing a little of the energy and rawness to the polish. Scala Timpani’s “Winds of Change” is by no means bad just very much of it times with the slap bass, Linn drums and proggy keyboards, think Tears For Fears pre bombast. On the other hand, The Flight Commander’s “Message From A Dead Man” incorporates spoken word samples and middle eastern sounds into an atmospheric collage while The Anti Group gets gnomic and gnostic on “Zulu”. On “Like A Fool” Treebound Story, featuring Richard Hawley, produce a classic piece of indie pop and One Thousand Violins are sarky mid-1980s indie jangle of superior quality on their 1985 flexi-disc (ah memories) “You Ungrateful Bastard”, a track which deserves repeated plays.

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Cherry Red has again given us a bonanza of carefully curated gems complete with a 60-page booklet of tales from the protagonists, photos and background essays about the Sheffield music scene. It’s a lot to digest but much to enjoy and many rabbit holes to delve into. Here’s hoping they are eyeing off Leeds.

Andrew Forell

#dreams to fill the vacuum #the sounds of sheffield #cherry red #andrew forell #albumreview #dusted magazine #post punk #industrial #punk #synth punk #indie #sheffield

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heroesmusings · 4 years

Photo

FULL NAME: Wanda Django Maximoff

MEANING: wanderer

NICKNAME: Little Witch

MEANING: Bucky usually calls her little witch in Russian

AGE APPEARANCE: Appears and is 28

BIRTHDAY: April 16th, 1992

ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Aries

SPECIES: Enhanced Human

GENDER: Cis female

ALLERGIES: None

SEXUAL PREFERENCE: Demisexual

THEME SONG(S): Nightmare by Halsey, Ship to Wreck by Florence and the Machine, Like Real People Do by Hozier, A Place in this World by Taylor Swift

APPEARANCE

HAIR COLOR: Dark Brown

HAIR STYLE AND LENGTH: Nearly mid back, almost always down and is fairly straight

EYES COLOR: Brown when not using powers, red when using powers

EYESIGHT: 20/20, the stone perfected her eyesight

HEIGHT: 5″7′

WEIGHT: 120 lbs

OUTFIT/CLOTHING STYLE: For missions she wears tight fitting black pants, red corset and a red overcoat, but off mission she's usually just wearing black jeans and a big zipper hoodie and whoevers shirt she found

ABNORMALITIES: None.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS(SCARS,MOLES): She's got scars on her upper arms from Hydra and a tattoo on her ribcage for Pietro

SELF CARE(MAKE UP): Wanda loves a heavy eyeliner look almost anywhere

FIRST IMPRESSION ON PEOPLE: SHY. She's not very forward, tends to keep to herself

SKIN COLOR: White

BODY TYPE/BUILD: A thin leaner build

DEFAULT EXPRESSION: Usually avoids eye contact so a bit of a demure unsure expression

POSTURE: Wanda has a hunched posture, she's constantly trying to make herself seem smaller

PIERCINGS: three piercings on her lobe, two cartledge on her left ear, septum, belly button and right breast nipple

DESCRIBE THEIR VOICE: Wanda's voice can be a bit on the montone side, especially when she's uninterested in something, and she has a Russian accent

RELATIONS:

MOM: Maya Maximoff

HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Before she died, Maya and Wanda got along really well, she misses her mother constantly

DAD: Django Maximoff

HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Before he died, Wanda adored her father was always excited when he returned home

SIBLINGS: Pietro Maximoff

HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Pietro was her ride or die -- they were connected at the hip and you never saw one without the other, very protective of one another before he died

CHILDREN: N/A

HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: N/A

OTHER FAMILY MEMBERS: N/A

PAST LOVER(S): Unknown

CURRENT LOVER: Carol Danvers

REACTION TO MEETING SOMEONE NEW: Wanda usually is distant, seemingly uneasy because she's constantly worried everyone is scared of her. So she keeps her distant and only interacts when she's required

ABILITY TO WORK WITH OTHERS: shockingly Wanda works really well with others she's just usually not all that talkative

HOW SOCIABLE(LONER,ETC): LONER LONER LONER

FRIENDS: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton and the rest of the avengers

PETS: None

LEAST FAVORITE TYPE OF PERSON: Anyone who mistakes her shyness for powerlessness

PARENTAL TYPE(PROTECTIVE,ETC): Protective and Loving

FAVORITE PEOPLE: Carol, Steve, Bucky, and Clint

LEAST FAVORITE PEOPLE: Anyone who thinks she's a monster, Hydra,

PERSONALITY:

..WHEN YOU FIRST MEET THEM: ? Shy, Quiet, Uneasy

..AS YOU KNOW THEM BETTER(AND THEY LIKE YOU): Playful, Joking, Protective

..AS YOU KNOW THEM BETTER(AND THEY DISLIKE YOU): Sassy, Cold, Impatient

FAVORITE COLOR: Red and Black

FAVORITE FOOD: Spaghetti with her mother's special sauce

FAVORITE ANIMAL: Grizzly bear

FAVORITE INSTRUMENT: Violin

FAVORITE ELEMENT: Air

LEAST FAVORITE COLOR: Yellow

LEAST FAVORITE FOOD: Fried Chicken

LEAST FAVORITE ANIMAL: Alligators

LEAST FAVORITE INSTRUMENT: Trumpet

LEAST FAVORITE ELEMENT: Water

HOBBIES: Cooking, reading, gardening

USUAL MOOD: While it looks like she is unhappy all the time, she's usually in a decent mood

DRINK/SMOKE/DRUGS: Drinks socially

DARK VERSION OF SELF: Cruel, wicked, killer

LIGHT VERSION OF SELF: Smiley, Uninhibited, Gentle

HOW SERIOUS ARE THEY: Wanda is pretty serious a lot of the times but around her close friends she's not

BELIEVE IN GHOSTS: Yes absolutely, she knows not to disrespect the dead.

(IN)DEPENDANT: Fairly dependent honestly

SOFT SPOT/VULNERABILITY: Referring to her as dangerous, Talking about Hydra or the Experiments, Talking about her Family

OPINION ON SWEARING: She doesn't mind swearing, she swears often

DAREDEVIL VS CAUTIOUS: more so in the cautious side she has to be

MUSIC TYPE: She likes classical music, also she can get behind some good rock

MOVIE TYPE: Any type! She does like a good horror but she's also got a soft spot for rom-coms

BOOK TYPE: Again she likes a good horror but she's also find of fantasy

GAME TYPE: She likes any type of board games really but operation is a classic

COMFORTABLE TEMPERATURE: Wanda runs pretty warm so she prefers things to be cooler

SLEEPING PATTERN: Wanda usually starts the night on her side of the bed, curled up in a somewhat fetal position then stretches out throughout the night and ends up closer to the middle. She has frequent nightmares

CLEANLINESS/NEATNESS: Wanda doesn't mind a little bit of mess but she does prefer clean

DESIRED PET: KITTIES

HOW DO THEY PASS TIME: Talking to her little succulents on the windowsills and hanging out with her friends

BIGGEST SECRET: she's actually pretty afraid of any and all explosives, even fireworks freak her out

HERO/WHO THEY LOOK UP TO: Her mother, Maya

WHAT ANIMAL WOULD THEY BE: she'd definitely be a fox

FEARS: Accidentally harming innocent people, the death of her friends

COMFORTS: Quiet rooms, Carol holding her hand, Homemade food

HOW DO THEY ACT WHEN THEY ARE:

SAD: Wanda shuts down, she doesn't want speak or to eat or to do anything, she really lets it consume her

HAPPY: Happy Wanda is a private Wanda, only few get to see it. Though it's a Wanda who laughs and smiles and hides her face shyly in into her jacket

ANGRY: You do NOT want an angry Wanda. She's vengeful, she's unforgiving and especially if you hurt someone she loves? She won't hesitate to take you down

AFRAID: She tends to fear herself when she's afraid, worries her powers are going to go haywire, so she tries to seclude herself as best she can

LOVE SOMEONE: Wanda is cautious with love, she's lost everyone she loves so far so she's afraid it might happen again but when she finally lets herself love, she's fierce about it, she adores and protects

HATE SOMEONE: WANDA AVOIDS she doesn't want any confrontation

WANT SOMETHING: It depends, if its someone she is pining over she won't but other than that she tends to go for what she wants

CONFUSED: Wanda doesn't love to be confused, so she'll work on figuring it out

HOW DO THEY REACT TO:

DANGER: Wanda usually faces danger head on, she'll take it in stride and protect the ones she loves from danger before herself

SOMEONE THEY HATE WHO HAS A CRUSH ON THEM: good more avoiding for Wanda

PROPOSAL TO MARRY: SHE'D BE SHOCKED. She truly wouldn't know what to say at first, she'd be so stunned but of course would say yes

DEATH OF LOVED ONE: it's soul crushing, she loses control of herself and everything and she wants nothing but revenge

DIFFICULT GAME/MATH/ETC: She'd spend time trying to figure it out but give up eventually

INJURY: Wanda doesn't really get too hurt anymore, it's pretty easy to protect herself but if it's someone else? She'd be a little overbearing to make sure they're okay

SOMETHING IRRESISTABLY CUTE: Wanda would laugh about it I'm sure

LOSS OF HOURS OF WORK: She'd do a little gardening

KNOWLEDGE:

LANGUAGES: Russian, English

SCHOOLING LEVEL: High School

FAVORITE SUBJECT (S): History and Home Economics

INTERESTED CAREERS: N/A.

EXPERTISE: Reality warping, probability manipulation, flight, telepathy, mental manipulation, energy projection and manipulation

PUZZLES: she tends to enjoy puzzled

CHEMISTRY: Neither science nor people chemistry interest her

MATH: Nothing special

ENGLISH: She speaks the language well enough

GEOGRAPHY: Not very good at geography

POLITICS/LAW: Wanda has very strong views on politics and laws in her home country she went to countless protests

ECONOMY/ACCOUNTING: Again a lot of feelings and protests over the economy

COOKING: Wanda really enjoys cooking it was something her mother passed down to her and it's very important to her. She's a damn good cook too

SEWING: Shes alright at mending clothing

MECHANICS: Nope

BOTANY (FLOWERS): Wanda likes a lot of basic gardening things

MYTHOLOGY: Not too much

DRAMATICS(ACTING,SINGING): Wanda doesn't really have an interest in any of that

READING LEVEL: In Russian she's proficient but English she can struggle

HOW GOOD ARE THEY AT PLANNING AHEAD: Wanda isn't all that great at planning ahead she's much more driven by emotion so whatever happens, happens

ROMANCE:

DO THEY TAKE INITIATIVE: At first? NO, she was a little timid but now she takes the initiative a LOT

HOW DO THEY ACT(SHY,ETC): Shes shy to start but ends up getting pretty damn confident

GENTLEMAN/LADYLIKE VS KLUTZY: a lady thank you, she's an expert with her fingers

GO SLOW VS JUMP INTO: Again at first go slow, Wanda is baby

PROTECTIVE: yes yes for SURE

ACT LIKE FRIENDS OR LOVERS: boTH

WHAT KIND OF PRESENTS DO THEY BUY: once she gets confident she'll start buying toys :)

TYPE OF KISSER: Wanda is a bit of a frantic kisser, like she can't get enough, she likes it a little handsy and electric

DO THEY WANT KIDS: ..not really?

DO THEY WANT TO MARRY: YES

MAKE GOOD OR BAD DECISIONS: Both, she's driven by emotion

ARE THEY ROMANTIC: she can be

HOW ARE THEY IN BED: Using her fingers is her day job so… pretty good

GET JEALOUS EASY: not really? She could squash anyone who poses an issue

WIFE/HUBBY BEATER: NEVER

MARRY FOR MONEY: LMAO NO

FAVORITE POSITION: Wanda likes being draped over Carol, so the two can care lazy kisses with one another and she also likes being between her thighs

WHAT WOULD HAPPEN ON THEIR DREAM DATE: having dinner and dessert on a different planet, it's the bEST

OPINION ON SEX: Wanda only ever feels sexual attraction once she's developed a relationship with someone, so before that she's fairly disinterested but once she's involved she enjoys sex

#wanda ;; bio

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chibiauthorchan · 5 years

Text

Lost and Found

I just want to start this off by saying sorry. I was told I should get this done by the end of the month and here I am on the last day of January. (Part of this might be because of who I’m writing this for. So much respect to you! Regardless, this fic was written for @katie-hime as a makeup. Sorry to hear your last Secret Santa wasn’t able to come through. Side note, I heard from a little birdie that you like soulmate AUs so I decided to combine your prompt of surprise visits with this version. I hope you can enjoy this and excuse how late this is.

Word Count: 1,404 Warnings: None! Summary: When everything you lose Written for: @katie-hime as a part of the Secret Santa put on by @usuknetwork

Alfred was five when he found out who his soulmate is. That’s when it started happening; earlier than most people. In his world when you come of a certain age whenever you lose something your soulmate finds it. Usually, this starts sometime in a person’s late teens. But the universe had different plans.

From an early age, Alfred was quite the romantic. Growing up on classic animated Disney movies, superhero stories, and other fantasy worlds he’d developed this picture perfect idea of what love is supposed to be. Perhaps that’s why the universe gave him his soulmate so early. Little Alfred put labels on all of his favorite things so that if he lost them his soulmate would find them. He wrote down everything from his favorite things to his home town. Eventually, his mother bought him custom labels to put on his things to save on packing tape.

Whenever he lost something Alfred would wait eagerly to find that it had been returned to him in the mail or handed back to him at school. When his mom found his lost toys it was understandably disappointed, but he was determined that it would happen someday.

It finally happened when his spaceship went missing and no one could find it. His father offered to get him a new one, but Alfred knew it was with his soulmate and he’d get it back. So he waited. And waited. And waited. Fall leaves fell to the ground and frost littered the yard. Alfred waited until December 25th. That Christmas morning he was handed a box wrapped in simple, plain green paper without a label. Inside was his spaceship and a letter. That is how Alfred learned who his soulmate is. Another young boy. He lived in England and was named Arthur. The reason it took him so long was by the time it made it to him the label that had been applied years ago had faded. Ever since that day, Christmas was extra special to the young American boy. From that day forward the two exchanged letters, then emails, to texts, and finally video calls. Years had gone by, but Alfred’s sense of overly dramatic, cinema level cheesy romanticism hadn’t faded.

Fourteen long years had passed. Now 19 and independent no one could stop him from planning on jumping the Atlantic for Christmas. The plan was to fly out on the cheapest flight the week before the big day and surprise Arthur when he got there. The cheapest flight turned out to be on Christmas Eve. Good since there would be more surprise factor. He’d figured this all out months before him. Everything was going to be perfect. There was only one kink in the plan. Alfred was still prone to losing things. The flight left early in the morning and landed early Christmas Day. It had a lot of stops, but it’d be worth it. The airport was a bit of a drive away, not to mention he had to be at the gate a few hours early; but it was fine because he could sleep on the planes. So still a bit sleepy Alfred showed up at the airport before the sun was up. Standing at the desk when he was asked to show his boarding pass Alfred reached into his pocket for the ticket he’d just printed out only to find his pocket had a hole. He’d lost his ticket. Which meant if he didn’t find it soon, Arthur would.

That woke Alfred up right away. He retraced his steps and searched everywhere he’d been. It wasn’t far between the do it yourself check in and the desk you had to hand over the pass to; but apparently a lot of other people thought taking the Christmas Eve flight was the best idea and the place was crowded. Scrambling around Alfred looked spurred on past his fatigue by the fear this would ruin the surprise. But when his phone rang he knew it was too late.

He answered with a nervous laugh, an exaggerated, “Heeeeeeeey, Artieeeee. You usually don’t call this early. Is something wrong? Not having a Merry Christmas Eve? Miss me too much? What’s up?” Alfred hoped his copious questions would distract from the reason for the call. It didn’t work.

“Love, why did I find a plane ticket from your side of the pond to mine?” His tone was calm, not accusatory or upset. It was a simple question, but nowhere near the reaction Alfred had been hoping for.

“Surprise?” It was worth the shot. But the long silence over the line made it clear Arthur wasn’t crying tears of joy like he thought. “I’m sorry Art, you know I lose things at the worst possible time. But hey, now that I have you on the line you can explain to the lady at the check-in counter that your soulmate is a clumsy, forgetful, dork and that you have the ticket. They might let me on the plane, it is Christmas Eve.”

Alfred could hear Arthur’s eye roll in his sigh, but he agreed and the phone was handed over. Stateside Alfred checked to make sure he had his Switch in his bag, had his carry on packed with clothes in case his luggage was lost, and emergency cash in case he lost his wallet. Over in Europe Arthur was looking around to see if Alfred had lost anything else while he explained their situation. They were lucky that most Americans (Alfred included) were easily charmed by his accent.

Alfred was handed back his phone by the woman asked for his passport. Now in a pretty good mood, he plunged his hand into his pocket only to find that wasn’t there either. He paled instantly at the realization and right on cue Arthur spoke up over the line.

“It looks like you forgot something else, Love,” Arthur had just found a US passport inside his own jacket pocket. Looking through it with a heavy sigh. “Hand the telly back over to the nice check-in attendant Alfred.” Obeying right away the phone was handed over. He scanned every little movement on that woman’s face trying to gauge her emotion. By the time she was nodding along, it didn’t look good.

“Sir,” she started, handing the phone back, “I’m afraid I can’t let you through without a passport. You wouldn’t make it past security if I allowed you to pass,”

Alfred’s heart sank. This was the only time he’d get the chance to see Arthur until the summer. He didn’t want to wait that long, and this was supposed to be perfect. Christmas was theirs. Unable to say much he just thanked the woman for her help and went back to talking with his soulmate. Or rather, listening to him.

“Go on home, Love. I’ll see you soon enough,” Arthur’s voice was still so reassuring to him. They talked as he drove home for as long as they could. When he walked through his front door Alfred made a beeline to the couch and passed out.

When he woke up though, the smell of tea was in the air and the lights he’d neglected earlier had been turned on. Alfred got up and followed the smell to the kitchen, only to find his soulmate making tea, humming an old folk tune. Needless to say, Alfred tackled Arthur in a hug.

The Brit flushed bright but laughed as well. He squeezed Alfred back and only tried to squirm away when the American started to press kisses to every bit of pale, lightly freckled skin he could see.

“How’d you get here? Everything was booked last I checked?” Alfred was excited and he wasn’t going to let Arthur go for a second. The universe let them keep their special Christmas magic. Everything was perfect again.

“I was planning my own surprise trip. I’m here until New Year's day. Though I suppose we shouldn’t keep trying to surprise each other. Otherwise, we’d be in different countries yet again,” Arthur was content to just stay in Alfred’s arms, feeling a sort of bliss he’d only every feel when around his soulmate. They snuggled together on the couch after that, cozied up under a blanket together.

With Alfred’s sleep deprivation and Arthur’s jetlag, they fell asleep there in the living room tangled together. The next day was the best Christmas Alfred ever had, including his fifth.

#so sorry this is so late #I hope you like it #usukholiday2018 #I have no idea how to tag this #usuk #hetalia usuk #hetalia #usuk fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #fluffy #long distance #long distance relationship #soulmate au #cinderella soulmate au #happy ending #Chibi's Writing

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