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banannabethchase · 10 months

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Set the World Alight: Chapter 15 - also on AO3

Matt finally gets the house to herself and invites Mox over. Meanwhile, Nick and Adam go on a college tour.

Note about the chapter [including rather major chapter spoilers]: Two teenagers over 18 who love each other deeply have a YA fade-to-black sex scene. In case anybody's like. Weird about that.

Sunday, March 16th

Matt

She wakes up to her phone ringing, and mindlessly fumbles for it. “Hello?” she mumbles into the phone.

“Wake up,” Nick says. “Dad got donuts.”

Matt sits up so fast her head spins. “Donuts? I’ll be right down.”

She pulls on a pair of slippers and one of Mox’s hoodies from his dad’s garage and half tumbles down the stairs into the kitchen.

“Donuts?” she says by way of greeting.

“Oh, hey there, Matty girl,” her mom says. Matt takes her in – she looks nice, almost fancy.

“Why are you already dressed?” She peeks around the corner to see her dad face first in a closet. She giggles a little. “Are you two going somewhere?”

“Museum district is having a special,” she smiles, “and your dad has that pass, so we’re going to go watch movies in the Omnitheater all day.”

“Have fun,” Matt says. She tries to smile like a normal person, but she’s just gotten the best idea. “Nick, you want to do anything today?”

He shakes his head, shoving a donut in his mouth. “College tour with Adam,” he mumbles through the mouthful. “Torrance is having a weekend welcome thing and Mrs. Page asked me if I wanted to tag along.”

Matt does everything she can not to explode. “Oh, okay,” she says. “You guys all have fun! I’m hanging out here today.”

Her mom eyes her for a moment, and Matt does everything she can not to give away what her idea is. If she plays this right, she gets the entire house to herself. All morning, all afternoon.

With Mox.

“Well,” says her mom with a knowing smile, “don’t do anything too reckless. And, if you do, use a condom.”

Nick chokes on his donut and has to be smacked on the back for two straight minutes to get himself back together.

Nick

“Hi, Mrs. Page,” Nick says, sliding into the back seat next to Adam. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“I invited you,” Adam says, pouting.

“Please,” Mrs. Page laughs. “You know Nick is my favorite of all your friends. I’m just glad he was willing to wake up so early on a Sunday!”

Nick yawns before he can answer. “We were up early for Matt’s cheer competition yesterday, so it’s kind of happening without my control at this point.”

“Well,” Mrs. Page says, pulling out of Nick and Matt’s driveway, “we can keep the volume to a minimum so the two of you can take a nap on the way there and back, hmm?” She smiles at them through the rear view mirror. “Just like when you two were little.”

Nick glances over to Adam and shares a smile. “Only now someone won’t cry because we can’t stop to pet the cows.”

“They were adorable cows and they deserved kisses,” Adam says, pouting even harder. But there’s a sparkle in his eyes that makes Nick’s heart skip a beat. Or three. Nick bumps Adam’s knee with his, lingering just a tiny bit too long.

“All cows are adorable,” Nick says. “Plus, you were, like, twelve.”

“Thirteen,” Mrs. Page corrects.

“Thanks for that, Mom,” Adam grumbles.

Mrs. Page puts on some audiobook, and Nick decides it’s not a big deal if his and Adam’s hand bump as they fall asleep.

Matt

Hey you want to come over today? she texts to Mox, nearly vibrating with excitement. It’s been five minutes since everybody left but she couldn’t wait any longer. She bounces on her toes with anticipation.

always but I got to work until 2ish

Matt deflates a little, because she’d been hoping Mox could come over immediately, but she’s still excited. Yay! Text when you’re on your way.

of course <3

Matt cranks up her music and takes her time showering. The night before all she could make herself do was wash out the hair gel before she stumbled into bed. But today, she’s got a little more energy. And she has an plan.

She sings poorly to her favorite playlists, and nobody knocks on the door to ask her to stop or use the bathroom. She takes care to make sure her hair looks pretty but manageable, and she picks an outfit she thinks is cute, but not like she’s trying too hard.

She cleans her bedroom and bathroom so they look right. And then she double checks that her top bedside table drawer has what she needs in it.

“Good,” she says, fighting her smile.

It’s only eleven when everything’s done, and then she’s sitting on her bed, bored.

When her phone rings, she answers so quickly it’s a little excessive. “Hi, Mox.”

“Hi,” he says. “How’re you?”

“I’m good.” Matt sits down on her bed. “How about you?”

“Not too bad,” Mox says. Matt tries to keep herself from running around the room spinning and decides, instead, to roll over on the bed. “So, what are you doing today?”

Matt kicks her feet up, looking out the dormer window. “Oh, nothing,” she says. “Just hanging out with my boyfriend.”

“He sounds like a big fuckin’ idiot,” Mox says. Matt thinks she can hear the smile in his voice. She wants to wrap herself in it like a blanket. “Real tool of a guy, if he’s not there already.”

Matt glances around her room. It’s neat and tidy. Nothing out that shouldn’t be. Cozy blanket. Clean sheets. She’s jittery with eager anticipation. “He’s welcome to come over whenever he wants, but he’s at work,” she says, trying to keep it light. “And don’t call him an idiot. I happen to love him.”

“Oh?” Mox says. “Yeah? What would you do if he was already in your driveway?”

Matt’s excitement spikes through her entire body. “You said not until after two!” She glances out the window and, sure enough, there is Mox’s mom’s car pulling into the parking space usually meant for her Dad. They have the whole house to themselves, and Mox might not even know it yet.

She flies down the stairs, checking to make sure her outfit is right like she wants it, before pulling open the door. She runs into Mox’s arms, and he spins her.

“I thought you had to help your dad at the shop!” she says as Mox sets her down.

He shrugs. “Told him it was my girlfriend’s birthday, and he let me leave early.” He leans down and kisses her forehead. “So I got to come see you sooner.”

Matt thinks she may vibrate out of her skin and into the stratosphere if she doesn’t say anything. “Come upstairs,” she says, grabbing Mox’s hand.

He goes with her easy, not letting her hand go the entire way. When they reach her room, Matt flops down on the bed and grins up at Mox. “Come on, sit!”

He blushes a little as he settles down slowly next to her, and she might jump him right here if he keeps being so sweet. “You seem excited,” he says, resting his hand on hers.

She nods. “I am.” She leans over to take the piece of paper her father had brought in with the mail the night before off her bedside table. “I got into State.”

Mox’s eyes widen, and he smiles so huge she feels like she’s bathing in sunshine. “I knew it!” he says, jumping to his feet. “Oh, baby, good job! I knew you’d do it!” He reaches out and pulls her by the arms to hug her. “And I’m not going to be that asshole who tries to push you to go to the same school I’m going to, because that would be awful.” He pauses. “But, holy shit, that would be so fuckin’ cool.”

Matt giggles as she hugs Mox back, then pulls away so she can see his face. “They gave me an awesome scholarship for my cheer work and my grades, and when I went for that tour last month one of the admissions counselors told me he’d seen my work and was impressed, so.” She shrugs. “I felt like I had it in the bag. But I wasn’t sure.”

“Everybody should be impressed with you.” He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re amazing.”

Matt grins up at Mox. “Thanks. You are, too.” Matt swallows, trying to get up the courage. “And, um. I was thinking. Since it’s my birthday weekend and all.” She takes deep breath. “I, um. I was thinking. Well, I bought a new bra, and new underpants, and I was thinking maybe you could see them.” She pauses.

“Sure!” Mox says. “I mean, I’m not, like, very good at fashion or anything, but I’ll hype you up and everything.”

Matt sighs. “No, I – I want you to take my clothes off, not critique them.” Mox tilts his head to the side. Matt thinks if she looked hard enough she could see his ears perk up. “Specifically, if you wanted to, I was thinking we could have sex.”

He nods slowly, more controlled than Matt has ever seen Mox. It’s almost endearing, with the way he’s trying to act like he’s being normal. She can read him pretty well, though. “You sure?” he asks. His fingertips are stroking the skin on her arms, and she’s pretty sure she’s about to combust. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Pressured?” Matt giggles. “Mox, I asked you.”

“I know!” he says. “But, like, I know what the issue was with Cody, and I don’t want you worried I’m expecting something from you.”

“I’m not,” she says. She slides her hand to his belt, then stops, waiting for Mox to respond. He looks at her softly. And then she can’t stop talking. “I want to, Mox. I love you. I – I love you so much, and I want…” She trails off and looks up at him. “Mox, I want you.”

Mox makes an unexpected, weird little sound in the back of his throat. “Yes,” he almost whispers. “Yes, Matt, I want to. I – okay, but, like, what? And how?” He exhales. “Never mind. You make all the decisions. I’m just here for your enjoyment.”

“You’re so weird,” she says, and she leans over to kiss him. She pulls him backward onto the bed. She falls down, flat on her back, and the thrill of Mox’s weight on top of her makes her lightheaded.

Mox’s shirt is gone, and then hers, and then she can feel Mox’s heartbeat against her chest.

“I want to check again,” Mox says, breathing heavily. “You – we’re going to have sex. And you want to. Like, you really want to.”

“Yes.” Matt tries to say it like a promise. She reaches up and cups Mox’s cheek. “I really, really want to. Because I love you.”

“I love you, too, Matty,” Mox says, kissing her forehead again. “So fuckin’ much.”

Curled up in Mox’s arms, Matt thinks she’s going to reset her timeline and make this her first time. Jamie once told her that, for girls, it should only count if you come. And that makes today her first time if she adds Cody’s stupid definition.

“You awake?” Mox whispers. His fingertips through her hair make her feel warm and cozy.

Matt nods, rolling over. “Not sleepy,” she mumbles. “Just enjoying it.”

“I get that,” Mox says. “Holding on to the moment.” He sighs, and Matt can feel his chest move. He pulls the blankets up around the two of them. “And you, of course.”

“And me?” Matt asks, shifting to be able to see Mox’s face.

“Holding onto you,” he says with a smile. He pulls her in tighter. “That’s called a zeugma.”

“Ooh, you’ve been listening to my weird English class rants,” Matt giggles. “How romantic of you.”

“I think what we did earlier was more romantic, but whatever.” He kisses Matt’s forehead again, and Matt presses her face into his chest.

“Okay, very true,” she mumbles against his skin. “So, I have a question.”

“Go for it.”

She shuffles again so she can look Mox in the eye. “We might be going to different schools next year.”

Mox nods. “That might happen, I guess.” He’s quiet. It’s all Matt can do not to poke and prod for more answers. “Are you worried?”

“No,” Matt says, and she thinks it’s the truth. “I figured we should probably talk it out, right?”

Mox nods and adjusts. “Well,” he says slowly, “I think, no matter what, we try, right? Everyone says long distance is a joke, but we can’t know until we’re the ones giving it a go.” He reaches out and, with the softest touch Matt’s ever known, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Plus, I think we’re different than everyone else.”

All Matt can do is nod and get lost in Mox’s blue eyes. “So it’s settled then,” she finally says, “if we end up at different schools, we try long distance. And, um,” she breaks eye contact, gaze lingering at the necklace dangling from Mox’s neck. “If we end up at the same school?”

“Then we stay together,” Mox says automatically. “Um. That is, if that’s what you want.”

Matt nods, a little too hard. “I do. Want that, I mean.” She smiles at him. “I don’t want to break up.”

“Me either.”

Matt leans in and kisses Mox, and they lose the afternoon.

Nick

“Oh, sweet!” Adam says, darting over to the Ag barn. Nick exchanges a look with Mrs. Page, who smiles down at him. “Look at this space!”

“He really loves cows,” Nick says, a little incredulous. “Has he always been this way?”

“You tell me, Nick,” Mrs. Page says. That smile hasn’t gone away, but it’s turned a little more knowing. “You’ve known him almost as long as I have.”

Nick feels like blushing at that. He doesn’t know why. “When he was a baby, though?”

“Oh, definitely,” Mrs. Page says. “We were never able to have cows or horses – not quite enough room on our farm, of course – so, naturally, he became obsessed with cows.” Her eyes land on where Adam is talking beyond animatedly with the person who brought out the cow, petting the cow reverently. “Always felt bad we couldn’t give him the one animal he loves the most, but…”

“Well, it motivates him to find every cow and yell cow,” Nick says. Adam beams as the cow licks his face. “See? Look how happy he is.”

Mrs. Page nods. “He’s always been such a farm boy.” She turns to Nick. “You may have to get used to that.”

Nick can’t match her gaze, feeling his blush grow. “Maybe,” he admits quietly. “I could, though. Get used to it.”

Mrs. Page steps next to him, an arm around his shoulder. “We are so lucky to have you and your sister in our lives,” she says. “No matter what that looks like.”

Nick feels too seen, but he also feels safe.

“Nicky!” Adam yells. “Come over here – this cow’s name is Matilda! Like actually Matilda! We gotta get a picture for Matt!”

Nick laughs as he runs over to Adam, Mrs. Page close behind them. She takes the photo, and, if Nick’s a little closer than usual as he usually stands, that’s between him and Adam.

#moxmatt high school au #wtf i like wrestling now???#in which sara writes #Hello they're stupidly cute and Nick is just stupid #It's my fic and even I'm getting annoyed at how hesitant he's being #MoxMatt #hangnick

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world-cinema-research · 1 year

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Pleasantville and Dracula films comparisons and diffrences By Ronnie Bitzer

Pleasantville is about a brother and sister who got transported into a 1950's style sitcom where they show the people the means of change happening in their world. I watched this movie because I haven't seen it and I wanted to see Tobey Maguires character and see how he plays the part to his character. One historical resource I picked for the movie is the poster.

This is important because the billboard is in black and white, while the two main characters are in color and how the billboard says "Nothing is as simple as black and white." This leads on that when Jennifer and David go into the sitcom black and white is going to change into color.An important critical resource for the movie is from https://www.reelviews.net/reelviews/pleasantvile

A scene that stood out to me in Pleasantville was the Fire scene for when everything was in black and white except for the fire which was in color.

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the article talks about how the film showcases the falseness of family values and the need of the individual to break through society's shield of conformity, but most of all its about having fun at the expense of nostalgia.The once Jennifer and David show the people their "radical" ideals are changing the environment from black and white to color popping out, perfection starts slipping away, jealousy, anger, and passion make appearance. Meaning the stale form of family values are starting to evolve.I agree with the author who wrote the article when he said it entertains with its quirky plot and stunning visuals, making the film a modern-day, magical fairy tale that invites us to explore who we are as individuals. The events that happened during the release of the film are:

1:Back in the year 1998, the minimum wage was $5.15, the median household income was $38,568.00, and the retail price for a new car averaged $17,200.00.

2: On October 29, John Glen at age 77, became "the oldest man to fly in space by serving as a payload specialist on STS-95 aboard the space shuttle Discovery."

https://hobbylark.com/party-games/1998-Fun-Facts-and-Trivia

A piece of textual evidence from Pleasantville includes the scene of the characters changing from black and white to color showing the change the characters want to experience.

youtube

The similarities between Pleasantville and Barm Stoker's Dracula is they are both part of the fantasy genre, how they both have stunning visuals and how the coustumes fit for both settings of both movies. The movies also showcase the rethinking genres and how Pleasantville incoporates the use of black and white and transforms into color. For Dracula they used rear projection, multiple exposure, minature effects, forced perspective, matte paintings, front projection and reverse motion. The difference between both films is the style, while Pleasantville's style is more 1950's nostalgia,Dracula is more dark, suspenseful, and atmospheric.

The movie I watched for next week is Dracula. I watched Dracula because I never saw it and Iv'e heard that it was a great movie filled with excitement, costumes, and surreal visuals. A piece of textual resources I choose for the film is a clip from Dracula that shows you the costumes, characters and the setting around them. I feel this is important since it is showing you what is happening during the beginning of the movie.

youtube

Historical resources that happened during the release of Dracula includes:

1. Bonnie and Clyde (1967), Psycho (1960), and Detour (1945) were all entered into the National Film Registry.

2.About one million computers worldwide had internet access, and there were 10 websites online by the end of the year.

https://hobbylark.com/party-games/1992-Fun-Facts-Trivia-and-History Links to an external site.

In the article Review/Film; Coppola's Dizzying Vision Of Dracula the author talked about the movie being one of Mr Coppola creating his own wild dream of a movie, which looks as if it required a special pact with the Treasury of Department to finance. I agree on how the author said the sets and costumes are gorgeous because even though I haven't seen the movie yet I did see some parts of the sets and costumes through the trailer knowing that Coppola put every ounce of his dream to this movie. One quote that stood out to me is when Dracula says "That man is mine." retelling that there is a heated moment between Dracula and the guy who he wants. The author also talks about Coppola's scenes and how the movie was re imagined into one long, uninterrupted special effect and how Dracula is interpreted about a man disconnected from his world on which he remains as dependent from others.

https://www.nytimes.com/1992/11/13/movies/review-film-coppola-s-dizzying-vision-of-dracula.html Links to an external site.

Both of the movies are conventinal since both of the main characters are male and the side characters are female, but for Pleasantville the side character is sister and the side character for Dracula is the main characters fiancee.The culture depicted in Pleasantville and Dracula are both related to Hofstdedes Uncertainty Avoidance index and how Pleasantville relates to "perfection" and how people were afraid of change in the film and had restrictions like the "No Colored" sign. For Dracula the vampires were a sign of unholiness and how Abraham Van Helsing in Dracula vanquished the vampires by the use of fire and use of the Holy Bible.How both of the films aren't just local but global is targeting views of what people experience and that can be difficult to change related to Pleasantville and what you view as holy or unholy related to Dracula and how people view them in different countries.

The scene that stood out to me in Dracula is showing a woman and a werewolf the importance of the image is showing the dramatics of the woman when the werewolf is on top of her and holding onto her leg.

Both Dracula and Pleasantville were easy to understand since both of the storylines target uncertainty and how some people were able to adapt to change and how some weren't able to adapt from change. Both movies were strange and opaque like dreams how David got to experience what life was like if he and his sister were in a tv show and in Dracula how vampires exist also how Mina was similar to Draculas dead wife and how she remembered certain events that were familar to Draculas dead wife's memories.

#Youtube

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tosikoarts · 4 years

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SFW Alphabet | Mihael Keehl

You can check tosikowrites tag for more! Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

The most straightforward among main three of Wammy’s boys. His interpretation of own feelings is excellent and he makes sure everybody around knows about them. If he hates you, you’ll feel a burning hole in your back whether it is because of intense staring or literal bullet. If he loves you, you’ll be surrounded by abundance of affection.

When it comes to person he loves, Mello is very vocal. Words do matter, they oblige you and put responsibility on your shoulders. That’s why he loves to brag about his dearest to the closest friends, and even acquaintances know about this one special person. Another important thing is nickname, which Mello chooses based on the brightest features of character/appearance. Baby, honey, dearest are common too but he feels that they deserve exceptional treatment and exceptional nickname.

He absolutely loves physical affection. Skin to skin contact gives him weird sensation right in the head as if he can physically feel neurons releasing dopamine. It also helps with keeping his anxiety under control.

By the way, sometimes inferiority complex gets the best of him, and in these moments he is extremely capricious. For the same reason Mello may act like his loved one deserves everything, while he can go with bare minimum.

He is great at reassurances. The second he realizes his loved one is insecure, upset, lost, the gears in his head start zealously turning. The words he uttered are always spoken in the right tone and able to touch the necessary strings of the soul. At the same time Mello always has doubts in the efforts made.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Friendship with Mello carries spirit of 80s-90s. It’s a wild ride he once invited you to and then you couldn’t get off. Stuff gets messy, stuff gets hot, but it doesn’t matter until you both have fun.

He will roast you so much and will never get offended if you roast him in response. Mello aims for a good laugh only. His favorite entertainment is to go shopping together just to critic each other’s outfits.

You better move that body when he drags you on the dance-floor. Blasting music and colorful lights make him feel like a fish in the water so Mello will try to teach you dance. Yes, from the easiest ones to Michael Jackson’s moonwalk.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddles are essential for relationship with Mello. He enjoys snuggle up to his loved one on calm evenings, when there’s nothing to disturb the peace. Warmness of loved one’s head on his chest and smell of their skin calm him down better than chamomile-mint tea. He loves to listen to the sound of another person’s heartbeat as well.

Mello has one pet peeve tho: frequent head pats and hair stroking lead to greasy hair and this is exactly what he hates. If they put hand on his beautiful blond locks, he will take them by the finger and place their palm on his lips. This is a small but very loud gesture.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

The thought of settling down never popped up in his head. Mello is way too young, he wants to live his life to the maximum without thinking about another dirty plate in the sink or how long it takes to make boiled eggs. Based on this you can say he doesn’t like to do any housework. His cooking skills are decent but he prefers creative mess to boring order. Mello likes to help someone in kitchen when he is in the good mood.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Nervous type he is, Mello doesn’t want to end this relationship. But he has to. But he can’t. He is indecisive and hesitates on the way to them. Hell, if they are in good mood or overly excited, Mello won't say a word about break up. In his mind it has to be like pulling a tooth – painful but necessary, - but real life doesn’t work that way. When the moment finally comes he cannot keep his voice steady. Mello tries to end it as fast as possible and hold back a scream because yelling at his loved one is something he promised he’ll never do. Actually, I can see him doing something impulsive to blow off steam. Breaking random stuff, for example, or shooting bottles.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

No. Getting married is too much. He can’t see wedding bells ring no matter how hard he tries. Every day he becomes more confident in thought that strong sincere relationship do not need bureaucracy in the form of marriage. The only time you need a marriage certificate is during the divorce process. Mello isn’t 100% sure but pretty close to this percentage. If his loved one insists on marriage he will immerse in conflicting feelings. Then his next actions will depend on many factors but Mello definitely will try to explain his position and convince them in its validity.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Mello is on the rougher side when it comes to both physical and emotional affection. Childhood in the orphanage, involvement with the mafia, psychological issues, and responsibility placed on his shoulders taught it is necessity to be tough to survive in this world. When he lets his guard down nasty inner voice keeps reminding Mello about situations in which it could be a critical mistake. This leads us to the next point.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Here he comes, another touched-starved male with trust issues. Mello needs time to get used to soft touch of other’s person hands. Sometimes he puts too much strength in his hugs and it may come across a little rough. Likes them anyway, takes initiative 90% of the time.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It completely and entirely depends on his gut feeling. Something elusive tells him whether to trust a person or not, it’s not a rational decision. As soon as this strange sensation appears, he will immediately calmly utter three treasured words, and it’s not even so important for him to hear them in return. Mello just wants another person to know that they have become an integral part of his life.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

In addition to being easily jealous, Mello is scary as hell when someone is hitting on his loved one. If he witness such insolence, he will be extremely vocal and, well, unexpectedly rude. He is not afraid to get physical too.

If it’s his loved one who is acting flirtatious, Mello will be pissed off as well. His feelings are explosive mix of disappointment, anger, malcontent. It’s better to get off his way and let him cool a little before trying to explain anything or make excuses. In a fit of jealous rage he may say some terrible things which he’ll regret later.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

The most passionate kisser imaginable. He loves to kiss and he knows how to do it properly so why would you complain. He tends to forget about personal boundaries in process so make out sessions can get really… touchy. Anyway, loves to shower his loved one with kisses all over them, but lip smooches are his favorite. At the same time Mello doesn’t care where they kiss him because of solid fact he is being kissed.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He is so awkward. Calm/gentle/kind children are ok, but if he has to deal with angry little shit who throws tantrum whenever possible, he will flip out. Being around his own children is more or less bearable but don’t expect much when it’s someone else's kids annoying poor man. Mello definitely will teach his favorite one all of the swear words as a joke.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

On a free day no matter who wakes up first you will spend another hour in the bed cuddling. Then life will pour cold water on you when Mello gets frustrated with making breakfast. This may grow into small quarrel but most of the time he pulls himself together and you two find a satisfying compromise. During breakfast on work week you rarely hear any plans for the day from him but he stays curious about your schedule just to see if he can catch you for a lunch or a short call. Nothing special, really.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Night is his favorite time of the day. Neon signs, coolness, slight buzz of a big city work as a charm on Mello, he feels free from people’s staring, empty chatter, and daily duties. If he could show the world as he sees it to his loved one, at least approximate image, dim reflections of pale moon in the high-rises’ glass, he would. So to do it he takes them on late night walks and rides, new places every time.

Cafes and restaurants are another of his weaknesses, not only pastry shops, but also small diners with food that would seem boring to many. Take-outs are frequent too because chilling under the lilac sky and stargazing with Mello are 10 out of 10.

Don't let yourself be fooled, he likes to stay inside as much. Thanks to Matt, you’ll spend most of the time playing video-games and drinking pop until one of you starts yawning.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Mello is straightforward within adequate limits. You wouldn’t expect person to blur out “I hunt a Kira with my genius rival that works with FBI and Japanese Police” at any point of your movie night anyway, right? He does not pretend and does not resort to excessive secrecy but prefers to reveal facts about himself one by one.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Quickly gets angry, quickly cools down. Sadly, he his emotions are too strong and he does not know how to handle them and it often ends in heated argument. Even during a quarrel he feels his actions are hurting you but it’s not something he can stop at the click of a finger. After everything has settled down he is extremely remorseful and tried to make amends but Mello never ever promises to change. Why you make ask? In that case actions speak louder than words.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Remembers the stupidest things. He can’t remember any important dates like the day you started dating but will remind you about the most embarrassing thing you did in high school. Hell, he forgets your number sometimes but can describe the exact clothes you wore on that rainy day when car splashed you.

Unknown forces help Mello in choosing a birthday present. He has no clue what you wanted and if you wanted anything at all. Surprisingly, it always hits the mark.

Tried to write down “important” stuff about you once. Failed miserably. Decided to never do it again.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time when they confessed their love to him since Mello rewound this moment in his head like a hundred times. He remembers what color sky was and what song was playing on the background and those little details made this moment more beautiful than the masterpieces of the Louvre. Joy overwhelmed him and he couldn’t get this picture off his head for a few days too.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Not that paranoid protective and obviously doesn’t need to be protected However, he will be fluttered if person showed that they care. He will freak put if they don’t answer his calls or messages for hours and in the case of real danger he will take that gun and shoot someone as a warning.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts more effort in the beginning of relationship and its amount slowly declines with time. The closer he gets, the less he needs to try to cover up his sharp edges and imperfections or try to distract person with some kind of mask, mannerism, maneuver. Playing nice in early stages of dating gives him chance to throw the bait, to show he is able to be that datable material. A completely different question is whether a person wants to stay with him in spite of his inner demons.

Mello likes to surprise them with something special on anniversaries. Expect romantic late night motorcycle ride, car dates with take-out, and, of course, gifts. He likes to make/buy a presents person will like, something they wanted for a long time but couldn’t afford.

Acts extra-extra after anger tantrums. He knows he fucked up, okay, he just can’t control himself. Yes, it’s a lot easier to cover up consequences with huge bouquet and box of chocolates than to correct behavior learned over the years.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

If you ever had to deal with person stubborn as a donkey, you’ve seen demo-version of Mello’s behavior. Making compromises is not his strategy, so get ready for “this is the only right option”, “I said what I said”, “Yeah, go ahead, I’ll do it my way”. He immediately begins to sulk and spill his sassiness all over the place if things don’t go his way.

Doubtful impulsive decisions are most likely the cause of constant arguing and problem mentioned above. At first he does something (to say the least) stupid with impressive confidence. Then, after hours or days, his brains finally comes up with reasonable arguments but now it’s too late to back out.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

It’s obvious Mello likes to take care of himself. His sense of style is indisputable, he sticks to it and never fails to embellish the picture with shiny jewelry or other accessories. There may be dirt on his leather boots and soot on fur hood but they only complete his conceived image.

Probably has one company from which he buys all the hair care products. Feeling of easy combing through smooth silky hair before bed is another of his a little happiness.

How does he have such perfect face despite eating chocolate everyday? Mello is fond of beauty creams, masks, serums, and he doesn’t allow a single pimple ruin his day. Also, he uses different healing creams to soften the scars.

He would love to mess around with loved one trying new beauty products. There’s nothing better than taking care of each other.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, yes, yes. It doesn’t matter why they are not in his life anymore, he feels devastated. All attempts to distract himself fail as he goes back to thinking about them every five-ten minutes, and not only thinking but overthinking. Sometimes his thoughts throw him back to the past, first meeting, first kiss, and it gnaws Mello even more.

If they left for some reason, he will try to get them back. A chance meeting in the evening is completely planned, he also rehearsed his lines in the head more than a thousand times just to stay calm and avoid going off on tangent.

If they died, he will attend their grave for a few months. It doesn’t help much. He becomes incredulous and gloomy, scaring everyone around with frequent mood swings and defiant behavior. I can see him growing more actively aggressive and acting like he doesn’t have anything to lose too.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Because of his chocolate addiction, Mello has to visit dentist’s office quite frequently. The problem is he hates dentists and everything about them. The sound of a dental drill makes his skin crawl.

Mello can pull off any style, rock any outfit. He can dress up in trash bag and be fabulous as always. You can splash that man with the dirtiest water and he will still shine bright like a diamond. Unholy beauty.

He was that kid that got the highest score on Facebook picky sheet. He hates broccoli, never eats mushrooms, avoids pickles. Name any controversial food – he doesn’t eat it.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Mello can deal with pushy people but manipulators drive him nuts. As soon as he notice the smallest attempt to manipulate him, he will lash out. So you have to be the master manipulator to twist him around your finger or the batshit crazy person to pull an obvious manipulation on him.

Absence of communication. He won’t play mind games and try to guess your thoughts, so you better speak out your mind.

Oh, Mello doesn’t want a person who nods to everything he says. Sharing personal opinions plays a big role in relationships and he won’t agree to lose such way to connect.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Mello sticks to adequate sleeping schedule. His lifestyle forces him to break it from time to time but he quickly makes up for sleepless nights. He doesn’t even get moody or irritated. On the contrary, his reactions slow down, and the only thing he is interested in is comfortable bed.

Speaking of comfort, Mello likes to wrap himself in fluffy blankets. The more pillows there are around him, the better his mood will be in the morning.

Dark chocolate rich in magnesium can help you sleep better so Mello prefers switch from milk chocolate to dark in the evening. It is not uncommon to find a wrapper foil on the nightstand in his bedroom.

#death note #mello #mihael keehl #death note headcanon #death note imagines #mello headcanon #tosikowrites

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

Text

Another Year

Summary: Arthur’s birthday is coming up. Y/N wants nothing more than to make it great.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 3,892

A/N: This request came from the one-of-a-kind, fabulous @sweet-nothings04! Thank you for asking for this. I enjoyed writing it a lot!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open! Keep them coming!

Y/N hadn't realized how much she'd missed putting together birthday celebrations. Not until the unexpected serendipity of falling in love again. Her ex-husband had preferred not to make a big deal of them, had stated he hated getting older. (Considering he'd been in his twenties, she'd found that assertion silly.) As her father had slipped away, special events and gifts had gone by the wayside to focus on routines that wouldn't throw him off kilter. She'd been invited to her sister's and brother-in-law's parties but had only stayed for the hour or two she'd hired a sitter. And while she wasn't the most attentive aunt, she always ensured her nephews and nieces at least got a card and money for a treat.

From what she'd gathered, birthdays had never been an important facet of Arthur's life. That had become obvious upon learning his was 11/21/1946 by reading documents instead of from him. When she'd discovered he'd turned thirty-five and hadn't even told her. But unlike her ex, it wasn't because he didn't want them to be. It was due to neglect, isolation, and the inability to connect. As much sympathy as she had for Penny, for her own illnesses and suffering, for what had been done to her, the wounds she'd inflicted on her son hurt Y/N’s heart. There were so many lost years. She was determined to make-up for them by spoiling him.

The diner where Patricia and she often met for lunch was halfway between their two offices. A five- or six-minute walk for them both. Y/N arrived first. She sat at the white and gold Formica counter and perused the menu. (Though she'd already decided to get her usual pastrami on wheat, garlic pickle, and coleslaw.) Patricia strolled in as the waitress jotted down Y/N's order, and told the young lady she'd have whatever Y/N was having.

They caught up quickly. The Wayne Foundation case was going to have a preliminary hearing in three weeks. Y/N couldn't have rolled her eyes harder. ("Thank god I won't be there. They'd have to drag me off the stand.") Patricia listened with interest while Y/N went on about a dispute involving break violations at Ace Chemicals. And Patricia invited her to stop by the office soon, claiming Matt had realized he'd been stupid to let her quit. ("I'm sure he misses me being a pain in his ass.")

Y/N was picking at the crust of her sandwich when she changed the subject. “I need a favor.”

Patricia arched a brow at her. “Is this going to involve me lugging boxes of files to your apartment?”

“Only if you want the workout.” Chuckling, Y/N shook her head. “Arthur’s birthday is next Saturday. You bake the best cakes. If I’m left to my own devices, he’s going to get something out of a Universal Foods’ box.”

“Mine are out of a box. I just modify the directions and make my own frosting.” Patricia used the rest of her bread to sop up her coleslaw’s dressing. “How old did you say he’s going to be? Thirty-five?”

“Thirty-six.”

Swallowing her last bite, Patricia quirked up the corner of her lips. “I still owe you for running those supplies to the office when my foot was broken. What kind does he like?”

Y/N hugged her tight across the shoulders. After a short discussion, they decided on chocolate with vanilla cream frosting - a safe choice. It would be small, since it was only for the two of them. Arthur had a job the day before. That would allow her to take it home without him seeing. She’d just have to keep him away from the fridge the rest of the evening.

They talked about the other things Y/N had in-store for him, the reservation, the gifts. She giggled, pleased at having successfully hidden it all from him so far. “You’re putting a lot of work into this,” Patricia said. “What did you do last year?”

“I didn’t know about it last year. He didn’t mention it.” Though Patricia was already aware of some of Arthur’s past, Y/N had kept the details to a minimum. She tried to think of an elaboration, one that respected his privacy but was honest. She started in on her pickle. “With Penny being sick - with everything he was going through...”

Sipping her coffee, Patricia spun her stool to face Y/N fully. “You don’t need to say anymore. I remember. It was hard for you both.”

The empathy in Patricia’s gaze prompted a smile. And reminded Y/N how grateful she was for a friend who was frank but unjudgmental. “Back then, he thought needing or wanting anything from me was a bother. But he’s getting better at letting me love him.” Y/N put a hand on her chest. “And now he’ll never need to mention it. It’s locked in here for good.”

~~~~~

Yesterday had left Arthur in a funk. One that showed signs of adhering to his brain the way flies had stuck to the tape he’d had to hang from the ceiling of his old apartment every spring. He’d spent close to twelve hours dancing and waving a “Store Closing! Everything 50-70% off!” placard in front of Dave’s Pleasure Emporium in Gotham Square. (The city must really be fucked if its denizens’ finances were shitty enough that adult shops were shutting down.) It had been his least favorite gig in months. But the slow season was coming on, and the pay had been decent.

The dull ache in his lower spine, radiating to his hip, had made it harder than usual to sleep. And soreness was seeping from familiar spots to sinews he’d forgotten were there. Even the tips of his toes hurt. Two more ibuprofen tablets and acetaminophen went down easily. Carefully, not wanting to rouse her, he removed Y/N’s hand from his stomach, wincing as he shifted onto his left side to alleviate the pressure on his right.

Thirty-five was too old for this. While he loved performing for children, he should have made it as a comic by now. And he should have finished school. He’d be able to do more than be on his feet all day, then. Have more options. Opportunities...

Or maybe he simply shouldn’t have taken that particular job.

The ability to stop catastrophizing, adjust his way of thinking, was new. And rare. He made a mental note to write today’s accomplishment in his journal and share it at his next appointment. The therapist would be impressed with him. Dozing, he thought his funk might abate after all.

It could have been five or fifty minutes later when he felt the comforter being dragged down. Heard the zip of the shades being rolled up. But he was in that snug state between wakefulness and slumber and refused to react. Then there was a pinch on his chin, a light weight on his scalp. “What are you doing?” he mumbled gravelly.

“It’s someone’s special day today,” Y/N said.

Oh. That’s right. He was thirty-six now.

Squinting in the bright sunlight filtering through their sheer curtains, he propped himself on his forearm. She was half-reclined next to him, draped in a short, black nightdress. The one she found a tad tawdry but he liked. He rubbed his eyes, his forehead. Thin cardboard stopped him when he reached his hair. His fingers followed it, found it tapered into a point.

A party hat. She’d gotten him a party hat. He couldn’t hold back his snort.

In his line of work, birthdays were for kids. He’d stopped caring about his own as a teenager. Penny had seemingly been glad he was around. But she never remembered. Hell, he’d had to remind her of her own. But the last acknowledgment of it, the last one before meeting Y/N, had been by a teacher. He’d gotten an extra five minutes of recess and escaped punishment for inappropriate laughter for the day.

This was his first birthday with a person who saw and loved him. Understood who he was. Knew he was more than some image projected onto him. A person who appeared thrilled he existed and to be in his life. As a husband. Every sit-com and film he’d watched had clued him in: wives deemed them important. They hid gifts, cooked special meals, sneaked around arranging parties. There hadn’t been any sneaking on Y/N’s part, none that he could detect. He wondered what she could have planned.

The kneading of her thumb in the hollow of his hip, briefs slung too low as usual, gave him a good idea of her plan for this morning. The entangling of their legs confirmed it. “I got donuts. Coffee’s ready.”

“You, um-“ He cleared his throat, closed his eyes at the brush of her thigh against his length. Which was getting harder with each touch of her lips to the crook of his neck. “You didn’t make breakfast?”

“No.” Her chuckle was throaty, full of desire. “I wasn’t going to torture you with burnt eggs.” She was pulling at his biceps, trying to get him to settle over her. “Let’s work up your appetite, Mr. Fleck.”

But he flinched and halted her movements. The painkillers hadn't kicked in yet. His muscles burned. "We'll get to it later," he promised between languid, lingering kisses. The kind that made him feel safe. Loved. Famished for her. She guided him onto his stomach, stroked him affectionately. Breaths mingling, they chatted lazily until they both cooled off.

Once his stomach started rumbling, Y/N insisted they get up, despite his protestations that he wasn't hungry. That staying under the covers with her for hours would be fun. That they could eat in bed, crumbs be damned. His back would get worse if he continued laying like that, she told him. He needed to stretch and move. Although he grumbled, his experiences with injuries, whether from overwork, assholes, or sleeping on a couch most of his life, had taught him she was right.

Following a cigarette on the fire escape, he went to the kitchen, grabbed a mug, and did a double-take at the round table in the dining nook. He approached it in disbelief. He tensed as he ran his hand along the rectangular gifts and their shiny red paper. Squeezed the puffy, tan winter coat. Fingered the silver ribbon tied to the chair, dangling from an aluminum helium balloon. The lump in his throat forced a short laugh. But he didn't cover his mouth, not having to hide from her. He shook his head, wiping at the sudden wetness in his eyes. "All this is for me?" He did his best to sound normal.

"No. They're for my other husband, Carnival." She came behind him, hugged him around his torso and splayed her fingers on his chest. "You may have met him. Has a penchant for making balloon animals? Wears pants with the cutest patch on his bottom?" He grasped her forearm, held her tight to him as his shoulders shook with mirth.

It wasn't yet eight o'clock. And the day was already shaping up to be one of his favorites.

~~~~~

At the vanity on Arthur's side of the bed, Y/N was attempting to create the perfect oval eye with brown liner. The wide smile creeping onto her face wasn't making it easy. But it couldn't be helped. Everything had gone wonderfully so far. Had more than met her expectations. She hoped his had been met, too.

She'd been badgering him to get a winter coat since last Christmas. (His teeth had chattered almost the entire time they'd stood outside to watch Gotham's Christmas parade. The hot chocolate from a vendor hadn't done much good. A long bath had been necessary to finally warm him up.) The one she'd picked out fit him well, and he'd seemed to like it, hanging it by the door next to his tan jacket. And she'd known he was attached to his trusty, foil razor. But it was over fifteen years old, taped together, and on its way out. The new one had a rechargeable battery. He wouldn't be tethered to the outlet over the sink if he wanted to move around a bit.

The twitch of his nostrils, his hitched breath as he'd whispered, "Thank you," had compelled her to kneel next to his chair. The poignancy of his reaction had affected her keenly. Hollowed out her core and filled it with compassion and love. He'd frowned and wiped his nose with the back of his knuckles. "Sorry," he'd scoffed, glistening eyes darting to hers. "I don't mean to be weird."

"You're not, Arthur." She'd gently removed his black and red polka-dotted party hat, set it on the table. "You're being you."

After a quick lunch, they'd leisurely strolled arm-in-arm through the neighborhood, including a visit to the nearby park. Arthur had wanted to stop into the used record shop three or four blocks away. She'd caressed up and down his back, observing his content visage as he flipped through the LPs. It was lovely to see him treat himself to a couple without hesitating to worry about the cost for too long. At home, he'd settled on the floor by the record player and put them on. He must have been feeling better, because he'd kept his earlier promise: they'd made love on the carpet. Unhurried, sweet, and giggling like idiots.

The opening of the bathroom door broke her out of her reverie. She started blotting her darker-than-usual red lipstick with a tissue. "It was nice of Patricia to get me aftershave," he said.

She smoothed the lines of her champagne color, mid-length dress, adjusted its petal sleeves, then twisted around just as he entered the bedroom. Her movements halted. Would his handsomeness, his beauty, ever fail to stun her? Gaze roaming his slender form, she stared at him. He'd only worn his black and brown oxfords seldomly, saving them for special occasions. The wrinkled white socks didn't match his black pants, but they paired well with him.

It was the teal button-up, patterned with white circles of various opacities and sizes, that caused her to need a few seconds to process his remark. It'd hung in the corner of his old living room; she'd eyed it in their closet since he'd moved in. It was such a contrast to his usual conservative clothing. Quite unlike him, she'd assumed. But seeing him standing there in it, the way it complimented his lithe figure and brought out the light green of his irises, made him look a little less withdrawn, she realized she'd been mistaken.

"She thought it'd suit your new shaver." He gave a gentle hum in response, bashful smile appearing. Such gestures were unfamiliar to him. Eventually, they'd become such an integral part of his life he'd grow tired of them. Y/N would make sure of that. The idea prompted a grin and she stepped around the bed to approach him. "You look great. Are you ready?"

“Yeah.” The crook of his mouth, the furrow of his forehead alerted her to his nervousness. He rubbed the back of his neck, flitted his look to hers. “It sounds fancy.”

She kissed him soundly and he eased into her embrace. “You don’t have to impress me,” she said. “You already did that. Use whichever fork you want.”

The restaurant was in Gotham’s Little Italy district, only a block or two from Chinatown. Y/N had never been to Bamonte’s but her colleagues had given it good reviews. (One had said he and his wife went there every anniversary.) Arthur gaped when they went inside. She watched him survey the lavish, red curtains decorating the walls; the dim lanterns suspended from the ceiling; the faux-marble floor. Huffing, he turned to her, concern clear on his face. She grasped his elbow. “It’s all right. You belong here as much as anyone else.”

The maitre’d led them to a secluded table, behind its own drawn back drapes in the rear corner of the smoking section. Arthur traced the edges of the three lit, tulip-shaped votive holders. Caressed the cream color tablecloth as he sat in the fabric covered chair. An anxious chuckle left him and he smoothed his palm over his thigh. “I hope I don’t spill anything.”

Y/N assisted Arthur with the menu, explaining some of the more exotic-to-him dishes. He was interested in the antipasto, which wasn’t unexpected, since he always kept a jar of olives in the fridge. The gnocchi with tomatoes, spinach, fresh basil, and mozzarella was what he thought sounded best. She chose an old favorite, chicken in a mushroom and white wine sauce and a Caesar salad on the side. Arthur picked the least expensive Moscato on the wine list. When the bottle was opened and left on the table, he blinked at it, then shrugged and filled their glasses.

After a couple of sips, he crossed his legs and puffed on his cigarette. “I wrote a new joke. Well, I really just changed an old one.” He reached across the table to graze across the back of her hand. “Why didn’t the old man like having insomnia?”

Her eyelids fluttered, his gossamer touch setting her aflame. She ran her toes along his calf, his resulting twitch causing her to giggle in delight. “He wanted to sleep with his wife?”

Dark brows shot up in surprise, his eyes lighting up. Their fingers laced together. “How did you know?”

Leaning forward, she traced his crow's feet, prominent due to his beaming smile. Then her touch drifted to his jawline. “It was the first joke you ever told me," she murmured. "How could I forget?” Clutching her hand, he pressed a kiss to her wrist. He held her to his lips, hard enough to feel his teeth. And he grew quiet. “What is it?” she asked after a minute.

His eyelids shut. She could feel his pulse quicken together with hers. “I- I wanna sleep with you forever,” he breathed.

Out of anyone else’s mouth, she would have taken that to mean sex. From him, however, she knew it meant mountains more. Adoration welling in her chest, her fingertips weaved into his loose, chestnut curls. “You will.”

~~~~~

Once, in high school, Arthur had gotten a hold of some grass. It was supposed to induce giddiness and euphoria, make a person relax. God knows he could have used it back then; Penny had started declining and he’d had to learn to run a household. Plus, he’d thought at the time, it’d make him one of the guys. All the cool kids were doing it. Maybe he’d be able to connect with one and learn how to be popular. But all it had done was make him nauseous and paranoid. There hadn’t been one iota of the “high” he’d imagined. He’d thrown it out and never tried it again.

Now he wondered: was it possible to be high on a person? To be drunk on their presence? To feel their essence down to the cell? Necking on the sofa with Y/N, their coffee forgotten on the coffee table, he figured it must be. Enraptured, he wanted to capture her ragged breaths, take her into his lungs, make her a perpetual part of his being. Perhaps he’d stay happy naturally, then, like everyone else. Even if that didn’t work, she’d always be close.

Giggling, she pushed him off her and headed towards the kitchen. “Wait here. No peeking.”

Laughing softly, Arthur pushed his hair out of his face. She’d already gotten him gifts. Let him make love to her. Taken him to an eatery where he was totally out of place and managed to make it comfortable. What else could she possibly do? Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. He eagerly followed at the call of his name.

The loveliest cake he’d ever seen was on the counter. Dark chocolate shavings embellished its round border. And it was the perfect size for the two of them. Y/N was rushing to light a mass of candles on it. “Quick, make a wish before wax drips onto the frosting.”

He mused for a moment. He no longer needed to pine for daydreams and delusions of companionship - he had Y/N. In spite of the icons his mother had had in every room of their apartment, he’d long ago stopped praying to what he suspected was nothing for his conditions and illnesses to go away. Then it occurred to him. Bending to blow out the candles, he wished for his innate comedic gifts to be recognized. To be validated as the stand-up he knew he was. And to provide for Y/N. To be what she needed. To make her happy.

Although he was grateful for Patricia’s thoughtfulness, and he knew Y/N’s baking wasn’t better than his own, part of him had wanted her to be the one who made the cake. But he tried to push that aside and appreciate it regardless. The slice she gave him was far too generous. He ate it all, anyway, because it was delicious. The sponge was fluffy. And the chocolate could actually be detected, instead of a vague, sugary flavor. The frosting tasted finer than that on the grocery store bakery cupcakes he’d sampled in the past.

As he was rinsing off the cutlery, Y/N saddled up beside him and held out a bright purple envelope, inscribed with “Happy Birthday!” in her pretty longhand. He leaned his hip against the counter as he grasped it, intentionally brushing his hand against hers. Gingerly, he lifted the flap and pulled out the card.

The cardstock was a vibrant gold and white. Two mugs, one green and labeled, “Yours,” one pink and labeled, “Mine” sat on sketched coasters. The shiny purple letters underneath proclaimed, “You get me. I get you.” Pressing his thin lips together, he opened it. And sighed when he read the rest: “Hope you know how happy that makes me.”

One of his wishes had already come true.

The elation coursing through his veins made him shudder. He nearly missed the stiff papers that fell from the envelope. Y/N retrieved them and gently placed them in his palm. A wide smile spread across his cheeks as he read aloud. “‘Gotham Pops presents A Night with Gershwin?’” He double-checked the date. “These are for New Year’s Eve.”

She nodded. “I snagged them as soon as they went on sale. They’re orchestra seats.” Then she squeezed him flush to her side, bumped her nose to his. “Don’t think I haven’t heard you sing to yourself in the tub.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, eyes tracing the diamond pattern of the grey, linoleum floor. “I thought I was quieter.”

“I’m glad you weren’t.” Enthusiastically, her lips pulled at his before she grinned up at him. “Did you have a happy birthday? Was it worth getting older?”

Arthur’s answer came without delay. “Yes.” There wasn’t a way to explain what it meant to him, to explain that she helped him feel good to be alive. How full his heart was. That she patched cracks in his soul he hadn’t known existed. He longed to do the same for her. He cupped her jaw on either side, guiding her to his mouth and rasping, “I don’t mind getting older with you.”

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @howdylilflower @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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bestlaptops2020 · 3 years

Text

How To Choose The Right Gaming Laptop

It’s not hard to identify a gaming laptop from the other standard notebooks. It’s probably the one with the aggressive design, a bulky chassis and possibly a colorful lit-up keyboard. No doubt design is an important aspect, but ultimately it’s what on the inside that matters in a gaming laptop. So how do you choose the best gaming laptops and what do you look for? Read below, and find out.

Processor (CPU)

The processor is the brain of a laptop, so it’s an important component to consider while purchasing a laptop. The processor runs all the games and applications. To play modern games, that are highly demanding on hardware, you really need a performance processor. One way to look for a high-end processor is to look at the clock speeds (GHz - gigahertz). Higher the core speed, higher the performance of the processor. Of course, an entry-level Intel Core i3 with a high clock speed won’t get you far. An Intel Core i5 or Core i7 clocked at high speeds would be a better option. Similar, making comparisons of core speeds between AMD and Intel processors can be misleading. Preferably look for core speeds, between processor from the same series of a specific brand. As games get more advanced, their dependence on the cores increase. A laptop with a quad-core processor would be the ultimate performer. A similar method has to be used while looking at a number of core on a processor, as we did with the core speed. Intel processors tend to be largely recommended for gaming laptops, and that’s what you might find in most cases. Look for laptops, running at least a new generation, Core i5 processor. The Core i7 series of processors carry more features. Latest generation processors are designed to deliver better performance while being more efficient.

Graphics card (GPU)

This is the most component of any gaming laptop. The graphics card is in charge of the processing and rendering the game on the screen. This task is too much for the processor to handle, so a dedicated graphics card is needed if you want to enjoy games on your laptop. Without a good graphics card, you won’t be able to run a game at its best resolution or quality. Even if you get the quality, you’ll see the game stutter. In gaming performance terms, the frame rate would be too low. Some games won’t even run if your graphics card specifications don’t meet the minimum requirement of the game.

GPU

NVIDIA and AMD are the two big names in graphics solutions. There are plenty of options to choose from, depending on your gaming requirement. Remember, the Intel integrated solution will only let you play really basic titles, so look for the large NVIDIA GeForce or AMD Radeon stickers on the laptops you’re looking for.

Glamming

If you just want to enjoy a moderate amount of gaming, then we recommend looking for something like the NVIDIA GeForce GTX 960M. Among AMD GPUs, look out for the Radeon R7 series. These graphics card will support most games and also fall under the affordable category. If you don’t want any compromises, then you need to invest in a really high-end graphics card. NVIDIA’s latest GeForce 10 series of cards and AMD’s Radeon R9 GPUs are the ones to look out for. High-end graphics cards let you even run virtual reality apps and games on your laptop.

Gaming VR

It’s good to have an idea of what you’re going to be playing on the laptop. Consider all the features that are important to you, including VR and 4K support. Unlike desktops, you can’t upgrade the graphics card in a laptop, so it’s important to choose wisely. An additional performance will let you use your laptop for longer, as game demands increase.

RAM

Games are far larger in size than they used to be. The general thumb rule for games is, higher capacity RAM is better. When you’re looking at purchasing a gaming laptop, ideally opt for laptops with 8GB of RAM or more. In most cases, 8GB of RAM should suffice, although 16GB would be recommended, if you’re looking at a higher spec laptop. Some laptops let you upgrade the amount of RAM, so you might be able to increase the amount of RAM at a later time. Just be aware of the warranty policy from the manufacturer before you do that.

Storage

A single game can take up in excess of 50GB of storage space on your laptop, so it’s advisable to purchase a laptop with at least 1TB of storage. It should be enough to store all your games. When buying a laptop, you can also consider SSDs (Solid State Drive) instead of hard drives. They don’t have any moving parts like the conventional hard drives do, so they’re faster, lighter and more power-efficient. Their benefits include faster loading time and faster transfer speeds. They add to a lag-free gaming experience. If SSDs are a little too expensive, inquire if the hard drive on the laptop runs at 7,200 RPM speed. While most drivers operate at around 5200 – 5400rpm, 7200rpm drives will deliver better transfer rates.

Screen resolution

The whole point of investing so much money on a gaming laptop is to enjoy games in the best quality, with the maximum detail. The standard HD resolution (1366 x 768) doesn’t quite do justice. Try to look for laptops that come with 1600x900 or better still, full HD (1920x1080) resolution displays. The difference is noticeable, not just with games but other applications as well. Having a higher resolution also gives you more screen space to work with. 4K resolution is also an option available on laptops today. No doubt you get extreme sharpness, but those laptops are also expensive. It also requires more processing power and battery.

If given the option, choose IPS panels over TN (Twisted Nematic), mostly because they offer better viewing angles and vibrant colours. Another thing you need to consider is if you want a matte or a glossy screen, but that’s mostly a personal choice. We wouldn’t recommend a touch screen laptop for gaming. They’re expensive and games don’t really use touchscreens yet.

Keyboard

You’re probably going to spend a countless number of hours mashing the keys on the laptop. A good gaming laptop needs to have a keyboard that can withstand that. Besides that, you need to be comfortable using it. Pay attention to the key travel so there’s some movement rather than a flat, hard one. It should feel more tactile and should have good feedback. Look at laptops with a backlit keyboard, which will come in handy during long gaming sessions at night. Some laptops also have multi-colored backlights for certain keys which can be customized with the help of built-in software. However, this has more to do with the looks than function. Not to mention, this kind of features add to the cost.

You can also invest in separate mechanical keyboards that are specifically designed for gaming. They are generally better than the keyboards on laptops and will last much longer. You can even get a keyboard with customizable backlights that we mentioned. Of course, it doesn’t just end there. To make the most of gaming laptops, you also need to equip it with the right accessories. Look out for specialized gaming mouse. They offer more features that come handy while playing games. Gaming laptops also heat up a lot, so a cooling pad can also help. A Steam account is a next thing to do. There are plenty of free titles to choose from, as well as great deals on offer that come up every weekend.

accessories

Ultimately, choosing the right gaming laptop also comes down to the budget. So we recommend giving importance to the essentials first, which include a good GPU, processor and screen. You can choose the other features based on your requirement. Take your time and research on models and features, because a gaming laptop is a big investment. It’s also your gateway to a good gaming experience.

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trekkingski · 3 years

Text

Hilleberg brand story

Hilleberg tent measured experience, the top tent in the outdoor brand I believe everyone is no stranger to the outdoor brand Hilleberg. Hilleberg Hilleberg, which is famous in the mountain world, is like the LV of the fashion industry. Among them, the most famous tent series is its tunnel tent Anjan series. If the tent is a home in the forest, then the Anjan series is undoubtedly a single-family mansion! But the reality is cruel, not everyone can afford a luxury house, so consider the same exquisite villa in the elite area-Anaris series. Hilleberg brand story

Hilleberg Hilleberg has been voted as the best tent by the European industry in 1995. It is known as the king of European tents. The most well-known one is the tunnel tent Anjan series, but Hilleberg is actually the first The keb series sold by Ding Commercial is also the first tent in the world that combines the inside and outside of the tent. The tent’s inner tent and canopy are integrated into one design, which is convenient for erection and shortens the erection time. The prototype of Anaris Mountain Lodge is from Keb, which can be said to be the classic of the classics! Why Hilleberg, which is not cheap in the tent market, can stand so unwaveringly, and there will still be Shanyou investing in this brand of tents? Hilleberg uses six basic principles to build the best functional tent, namely reliability, adaptability, ease of use, durability and comfort. Even if it achieves the ultimate lightweight, it will not reduce the six major tents. High performance. Hilleberg color code system explanation

In 2013, in order to make it easier for consumers to choose the right tent, Hilleberg integrated four 'color label' tents: black label, red label, yellow label or blue label. Each color code represents a category distinguished by the material or structure of each tent. In the yellow label family, in addition to the original Anjan and Rogen, new members Anjan GT and Anaris have also been added. Black label The most durable series, suitable for all users in all seasons, any environment. The black mark indicates the easiest tent series to use, and it is also very suitable for novices to engage in high-intensity expeditions. Red label The four-season tent has an absolute advantage in lightweight and still has a bright performance in terms of strength. Suitable for users who value lightweight and are willing to sacrifice a little comfort and strength Yellow label Give priority to lightweight groups, suitable for use in warm and snow-free environments. Suitable for users who prioritize lightweight and are willing to sacrifice a little comfort and strength Blue label Tent with special needs and specifications Four advantages and disadvantages of Hilleberg Anaris 1. Lightweight

Hilleberg Anaris belongs to the ridge tent (also known as the A-type tent), this tent is not self-supporting, so the whole tent does not have a skeleton (camp column), but uses trekking poles and camp nails to build the tent, eliminating the overall tent of the camp column The weight is lighter again! If it is an A-shaped tent supported by a trekking pole, it can also be called a pyramid tent, while Anaris is a trekking pole at the front and rear doors, which is built up like a ridge. The traditional A-type tent is an early boy scout tent, so it is heavier, but Anaris Mountain Lodge completely overcomes this shortcoming! The Anaris mountain hut is regarded as the rising star of Hilleberg, just like the SE of the iPhone series. The sparrow is small but has all the internal organs. It is the thinnest and lightest of the Hilleberg series of tents. It contains only 1.4 kg of internal and external tents + camp nails. What is the concept of 1.4 kg? It is about the weight of a Mac Book Pro 13-inch laptop. What's more, this tent is still the most intimate in the Hilleberg series! Speaking of the word flimsy, it sounds fragile at first glance, but Hilleberg is most proud of the extremely strong Kerlon fabric. Kerlon fabric has three layers of 100% silicon coating, which is completely waterproof and lighter. So even if it’s light and thin, don’t underestimate it. The yellow label Anaris tent fabric is Kerlon 1000, with a tear resistance of 10kg. The common tent fabrics on the market, especially those with polyester coating, have a strength of only 2. To 3kg. The black label tent uses Kerlon 1800 fabric, and the minimum tear strength reaches 18kg; the blue label tent uses Kerlon 2000 fabric, and the tear resistance is 20kg; Kerlon 1200 fabric is used on the red label tent, and the strength reaches 12kg. Kerlon 1000 and Kerlon 600 have strengths of 10kg and 6kg respectively. They are used in all Hilleberg tents. Among the lightest yellow-label tents, most of the tents are designed with three-season tents. 2. Two-pronged ventilation and wind resistance

Ventilation The inner tent of Anaris is made of breathable gauze material, which makes the air flow smoother. It is suitable for all three seasons. The stability of this kind of non-self-supporting tent relies heavily on trekking poles and camp nails. In sunny and mild suburbs with shelter, the camp nails should not be full, leaving a little height gap to help air circulation; on the contrary When the wind speed is strong or even the weather is not good, it is highly recommended that the nails must be fully loaded so that your home will not be blown off. Intimate reminder: No matter what the tent is, if the camp nails are not full, don't step on it! Hilleberg's camp nails are actually divided into strength, if you think you want stronger camp nails, you can go here Shop around. Anaris is a detachable tent with inner and outer tents. The advantage of connecting the inner and outer tents is that when you are in strong wind, you can quickly set up the tent. Hilleberg also used tunnel tents at a speed of 100 per hour. Tested in strong winds of kilometers! In addition to the four-legged camp rope, the front and rear doors of the tent can be fixed with trekking poles, and there are also camp ropes on the top, which can be pulled down under strong winds to make the tent more stable and have better wind resistance. Off-topic ~ Non-self-supporting tents also have the advantage that no matter how strong the wind is, there is no need to worry about the camp pillars being blown crooked. If the self-supporting tents are set up for a long time, the camp pillars are blown crooked, but it will be bad! 3. Spatial

In addition to the weight of the tent, space is also a condition that many mountain friends care about. In terms of space, the Anaris climbing tent has three major features: a double-door system, a double vestibule, and a zero-frame storage. Two-door system-when you first started camping, the rented tent was a single door, and you had to wait for entry and exit. If it is a multi-person account, it is acceptable because of the large space, but if it is a tent for 2-3 people, the entire It's very small. Later, after I started climbing the mountain, I realized that the tents are also made of double doors! I personally think that double doors are the kingly way, just like a car, only one door is really annoying. On the mountain, every second counts. When I arrive at the camping site and set up a tent, I will go into my den immediately. Waiting for any second will make the whole uncomfortable. You don’t have to wait for the double doors. You can spread your sleeping bag back to back with the mountain friends and inflate. Sleeping mats don’t need to be crowded at all. Because of the double doors, your feet can stretch out of the tent comfortably. The whole VIP feel is here.

Double vestibules-The most annoying thing about hiking or camping is rainy days, because cooking can become troublesome. If there is a canopy, it's okay, but like me and Matt climbing the mountain, we are not taking the canopy, because we take the lightweight route, and one more thing is one more weight, NO! (But I want to buy it recently, because the windshield is very useful haha). When there is no sky and it rains, the double vestibule is really an invention of the Buddha's mind. Just like a home with a courtyard, you have an extra space to put your belongings. On the mountain, you can put hiking bags in the vestibule. Don’t let the rain wet your bag; you can cook in the forecourt and prevent the strong wind from disturbing your hair. It seems like a concept of a protective cover, giving you the most perfect protection!

Zero-frame storage-As mentioned earlier, A-type tents like Anaris are mainly built by trekking poles and camp nails, so the weight of the camp pillar is basically reduced. In addition, this tent has a design that integrates the inner and outer tents. Do not disassemble it when collecting the account. Fold it in half and then fold it into the bag. It is very convenient and fast to store. And if you have good storage skills, you can have Help reduce storage volume. Then when you open the tent next time, just put down the four-legged camp nails and prop up the trekking poles to set up the tent. Isn’t it very fast? 4. Diversity I talked about the fast-deteriorating internal and external tents, and it also provides the diversity of Hilleberg Anaris tents. There are as many as six ways to build a tent alone, so many people think you have six tents! Having finished talking about the advantages above, then I will share with you what we think needs to be improved! 1. Large area

Anaris is a two-person account, but the required floor space is about the size of a three-person account. So if you usually go to a very popular hiking route, you need to find a larger place to camp. But to put it another way, the large area actually means that Anaris has more space in terms of double tents, especially the vestibule! 2. Building skills

It was written earlier that if the internal and external tents are not opened, the next time you use the tent will be very fast, but the premise is that you have experience and feel after multiple operations, and you can quickly set up after practice makes perfect. But in fact, most people use self-supporting tents (with skeletons), so if they are used to self-supporting tents, suddenly changing to this kind of camping nails and camp ropes will require a little adaptation period. For example, we spent some time studying where the camp nails should be placed, how to tighten the camp ropes, how high the height of the trekking poles should be adjusted... and other issues, and if in a strong wind environment, we need to constantly confirm that the camp rope is enough It’s not tight enough and the camp nails are not full enough. After all, it’s like a self-supporting tent (with a skeleton). Even if your camp nails fly off, the overall tent structure will still be intact; but if it’s a non-self-supporting tent (without skeleton, relying on trekking poles and camping poles). Nail), if it falls, it will be rebuilt. It is recommended that if you buy a non-self-supporting tent, you can try to build it in a suitable place such as a suburban mountain or a camping area before going up the mountain, so that you will not feel rushed to set up for the first time after going up the mountain, especially for novices, because you will be very broken. 3. Eat terrain

Since Anaris is built on trekking poles and camp nails, it is more suitable for building on soft soil. If you want to build on hard soil, it will be a little harder to nail it; if you want to build on a concrete floor, make sure that the weather is not bad enough to blow away your home, please take a big rock and press it down! 4. High barriers to entry As mentioned at the beginning of the article, Hilleberg is the LV of the fashion industry, so it is assumed that the price of tents is not cheap, so most mountain friends want (need), but hesitated to see the price. But it has to be said that Hilleberg is made in Europe, hand-made, and the materials are the best, so it really gets what you pay for. Of course, if you are a novice, like a newcomer who just came out of society, I sincerely suggest that you can buy an elementary tent first. When you are sure to fall in love with camping, camping, mountain climbing, etc., you will use tents for outdoor activities. In the future, consider whether to rush to the highest level. If you are a beginner and love outdoor sports, just like a motivated social person who has just left society for 3-5 years and has little savings and is full of energy, I suggest you rent and try Hilleberg’s tent, just like you Buying a car will test it, and you will know its goodness after sitting in a Tesla. The tent should also be tested! Like it, fall in love at first sight, it is necessary, you can start planning to save money to buy it If you are a veteran, those with experience usually know how to enjoy pulling. If you feel right, you have assessed that it meets your needs, and you can place an order with your eyes closed! Hilleberg Hilleberg Anaris Five Ways

Ridge The ridge style, the inner tent and the outer tent are combined, and the overall shape is like a ridge. The method of setting up the mind: the camp nails must be full and the camp rope must be tightened to look good. If it is not tightened, the tent will look loose and wrinkled! Timing: when sleeping, when the wind is heavy and rainy. Half house Half-house style, pull up one side of the tent, revealing half a small house, the vernacular is half-house style Set-up method: turn the tent from the left to the right, the camp rope can be put on the right camp nails, no need to hit again. Timing: Set up camp in the woods in the hot summer. The sun rises and the temperature gradually rises. Pull up half of the tent for ventilation, and there are trees to block the sun to prevent too much exposure.

Chalet style In the style of a wooden house, the doorways on both sides of the front courtyard are rolled up, and the inner tents are subtlely exposed. The outer tents are like the roof, and are as lovely as small wooden houses in the mountains and forests. Set-up method: roll up from top to bottom, and fix it with the buckle on the tent. If you roll it up randomly, the rolled up vestibule will hang down! Timing: When you want to take a beautiful photo of a mountain hut

Transparent Through the sky, pull up the bilateral outer tents, showing the entire inner tent, the whole is breathable and fresh Set-up method: roll up the tents neatly on the roof ridge separately. If you close it in disorder, it will be messy, so you must roll it up neatly. After finishing, tie a knot at the end of the roof, or bring your own rope The tent is tied and fixed, and it will look cute when taken from the front. Set up time: When you want to sunbathe in the mountains and forests. Cover type Cover type, separate the inner and outer tents, and use the outer tents as a kind of canopy The method of setting up the mind: remove the inner tent and set up the outer tent, and there is a doorway on this canopy! Turn on and off Set-up time: when you want to blend in with nature, single-day wild river hot spring itinerary Camping experience

I borrowed this tent from a friend, but we didn't know that there was a thunderstorm in the afternoon. We arrived at the scene and waited for the rain to stop, and hurriedly set up Anaris in full swing.

The first step of the construction is to fix the four-legged inner tent with camp nails, and then insert the trekking pole into the camp column cover of the outer tent. It can be seen from the photo that this double tent needs a large hinterland, and the foreign tent has not been fixed at this time. In addition, we agreed that at least two people are required to build together, and it will be a bit hard for one person to build!

The trekking poles need to be the same height on both sides. In this way, the tent can be stretched tightly and beautifully.

Anaris' tent can also be used as a sort of canopy. If the weather is too hot and you want to ventilate, you can prop up the tent and tie it to the tree with camp ropes. There is gauze in the inner tent, which can speed up air circulation. It is a tent that can have various changes. Because it was too late to arrive at the destination, the larger camp in the hinterland was already full of people, so I found a smaller camp in the hinterland, so Anaris could still build it, but it was slightly crowded.

The super large vestibule, 160cm tall, my feet can be fully straightened, and there is plenty of space for a camping chair, hiking bag, and cooking in the vestibule when it rains!

The space in Anaris is big and cool. After a day's sleep like this, we feel that this double tent has no problem if we have to sleep three people (visual inspection, in fact, we haven't tried it). If two people sleep in a spacious room, they will not disturb the friends next door if they turn over. However, our previous tents had storage bags. This one is not so I am a little uncomfortable. If there are storage bags equipped with storage, it will be more systematic.

When you get up in the morning when the sun is in the sun, it will not get too hot. It may be because there are trees blocking it and there is no direct sunlight. In addition, we forgot to bring sleeping bags when we went to bed at night, but it was not as cold as we imagined, and we thought that the windshield effect was good. Of course, if it is a strong wind without shelter, you must test again~

Summarizing the thoughts of this equipment test: Anaris' advantage is that the space is super-explosive, and the top gauge of the tent material is waterproof, wind-resistant and tear-resistant. Although Anaris is the cheapest and only discounted tent in the Hilleberg series, I believe that the unit price is still high for users. What I like most is that the Anaris external tent can be used as a canopy-like design, which can be used in different occasions at any time, as well as the super large vestibule and internal tent space. The above is what we share about Anaris Mountain Lodge. We hope to help you get to know the brand of Hilleberg and Anaris Mountain Lodge. There is no need to buy any equipment, the important thing is the equipment that suits you and your favorite.

#tent

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misseviejones · 4 years

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cellophane - evie & matt

Evie Jones first saw Matt Banks when they were just children at the playground, they had stared each other down with similar levels of interest, but it felt like they would continue on separate paths. They would never interact again and she would never think of him again.

Matt Banks and destiny had other plans though.

In her final year of college and in his first year, he approached her with the confidence of someone who knew they would end up with each other. She stared him down with the same level of curiosity as when she was a small child, but he didn’t say anything, just stared as if he was in awe. This was something she couldn’t get her head around – in awe of her? How could that be?

“Did you have something to say?”

He shook his head as if woken from a dream.

“I’m sorry, I just… I’ve always wanted an excuse to talk to you and I can’t think of a single fucking thing to say.”

She had to fight to stop herself from smiling. She wasn’t going to be the girl who swooned for a line like that.

“Well, let me know when you think of something.”

She walked around him, as if she was desperate to get to her next class. She turned back around though and he was staring at her leave just as she hoped he would. She allowed herself a small smile at him and he reacted with a wider grin, because he knew he had won her over then.

She swooned.

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

“Matt, what the fuck are you doing?” She growled, leaning out of her small bedroom window. Matt laughed loudly into the night sky and threw his arms into the air.

“I’m trying to be romantic and you’re ruining it… just a bit.”

She snorted and propped her head up with her hands, leaning fully on her window sill.

“Go on then. Romance me.”

He looked flustered. Her favourite reaction of his to the things she did. He cleared his throat and waved his arms dramatically, before pausing.

“Well, yeah, this was kind of it… Romanced?”

“Beyond belief.”

They smiled at each other for longer than a moment and she realised then that she could stay in moments like this forever, but it still didn’t stop her saying what she said next.

“You should go home now.”

He groaned loudly, so if her parents weren’t awake before then they were now.

“When are you going to admit you like me and let me take you out? You know this is going to happen -,”

“Stop this, Matt.” She pleaded. “You’re going to uni, you’re going to meet hundreds of girls and you won’t care about me anymore and I’ll be okay. I won’t be okay though if you try to make me fall in love with you before you go.”

He shook his head adamantly, but Evie was shutting her window now. She turned out her bedside lamp and sat on her bed with the feeling that she wanted to cry. She heard the sound of her name still being called outside.

The neighbours hated Matt and Evie.

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

They walked side by side. She enjoyed him walking her to work. It was a small joy out of her bad decision-making to let herself get close to him every time he came back home from uni. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t do this, but then he charmed her like she was a little snake in a basket. The truth was she was in a basket – there was no way of knowing what he got up to at uni. All she knew was the life he lived here and that’s the one she wanted. They never spoke about what they were though and so she could pretend he lived in the basket with her.

They moved to cross the road when a car turned the corner when it definitely shouldn’t have. Matt pulled on Evie’s hand, out of the way, and the car beeped aggressively at her. She let out a high laugh.

“WHAT THE FUCK, DON’T YOU DARE BEEP AT ME, YOU BASTARD!” She flipped her finger up at the driver and it began to pull off. “KEEP DRIVING, ASSHOLE!”

“What a fucking cunt, huh?” She commented, turning to Matt. He was staring at her with an open mouth of shock. He soon began laughing manically.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” She hit him on the arm and it just caused Matt to laugh even more.

“You’re just one-of-a-kind, Evie.” He was still laughing and she stopped hitting him. Her face softened and it seemed like he caught on, because he began to calm his laughter. He exhaled. “There aren’t hundreds of girls like you. I love you, you know, I really do.”

She inhaled so deeply that it was like she was taking in all the air around her.

“For fuckssake, Matt.”

She pulled him down to her lips and kissed him in the middle of the road, like it was the first time they had ever touched lips. It was full of love. She pulled away slightly.

“But… you’re not –,”

“I’m almost done. I’ll move back in the Summer. I’ll be here.”

There was something so special to her in the fact that it was decided he would come right back here rather than him even trying to persuade her to leave here. It was like he knew and understood that she wouldn’t leave and so he was coming here. It was that simple. And so she said the words and never went back on it.

“I love you too.”

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

They stood in their new, little flat, staring at their new puppy, Frank, the bulldog.

“He’s going to, he’s going to-,”

“He’s not, he’s not -,”

A groan came from Matt.

“And yes, he has just done a huge shit on the floor.” She playfully hit Matt in the chest. “I think I’ll take over toilet training duties, as soon as you finish cleaning that up.”

Matt let out a sarcastic laugh and Evie mimicked him, turning to finish doing the washing up. She felt his arms wrap around her tummy and she couldn’t help but smile at the warm feeling.

“Is this what you’re going to be like when we have kids too?” He kissed her neck and at this question, she turned around slowly to meet his eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling in wonder.

“And you think we’re going to have multiple kids?”

He smiled stupidly down at her.

“Oh, Evie Jones, I’m going to marry you and then we’re getting a huge house with the biggest fucking garden, so Frank can do all his shits out there, right? And then we’ll have two children. Minimum.”

That was all she wanted. She believed in long and simple love, like her parents, her grandparents. She just wanted to be in love like this forever and Matt was promising that.

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

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

She finally heard the key in the door and she hated that it brought her both relief and more anger. He stumbled through the door and Evie threw the nearest thing she could find at his head. Luckily it was just a paperback book.

“What the -,”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” She ran at him and hit his chest, before running out of steam. She was crying and yelling. “You’re fucked.”

The neighbours hated Matt and Evie.

He fell against the door a little and Frank was barking at him. They had to speak louder in order to be heard over that loud bark.

“I’m just a little… a little drunk.”

“It’s five am. The other night it was four, then before that it was three. One night are you just not going to come home at all? Are you going to be dead or with someone else or just fucked off and leaving me here, stupidly worrying about you?”

She fell on the sofa, sobbing now and unable to say anything else. She felt Matt’s hands on her shoulders just as Frank finally stopped barking. She refused to look up.

“I’m sorry, okay? I won’t do it again, I don’t want you… you like this, yeah?” She shook her head, finally looking up, but he was now crouched in front of her.

“I just… I can’t do this -,”

She was cut off by Matt falling on his side and passing out. She believed in long and simple love and she believed in fighting for the love you thought you would have all your life, so she wrapped him in a blanket and put a pillow under his head. Then she went to sleep soundly knowing her love was back where he belonged – with her.

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

“Are you smoking?”

It was a rule they both made that when they weren’t quitting smoking that they would make sure they smoked outside the window, but Evie was sat at the kitchen table, boldly smoking with no regard for that rule.

Matt snorted, walking closer to put the alcohol he had just bought on to the table, but as he got closer, he saw that Evie wasn’t even using an ashtray; she was using a blue cardigan to carry her ashes.

“I couldn’t find an ashtray, but I found this on the floor next to our bed.” She raised her eyes to Matt to see that he was flustered – her favourite reaction to the things she did. She put the cigarette out hard on the cardigan. “Who owns this?”

“I don’t know… Isn’t it yours? I saw it there a few days ago and thought it must be yours.”

Evie stood up slowly, remaining perfectly controlled as she shook her head.

“It isn’t mine.”

Matt shrugged, turning more casual, as he held up the cardigan and shook off the ashes.

“Well, it must be Alice’s and you know how she’ll feel about cigarette marks on it.” He shook his head, still attempting a laugh.

“How could you do this?” The venom that left her mouth really showed that she was a little snake, ready to bite. She shoved him hard against his chest.

“What the fuck, Evie? What have I done?”

“You’ve fucked everything up, Matt! You’ve done the worst thing and now you’re going to lie to me and tell me it’s Alice’s cardigan? Cool, cool, cool… I’ll just believe that and we can pretend you’re not sleeping with anyone else, shall we? That you can’t even do a fucking good job of hiding your little secret.”

She spat out every word with hatred. She couldn’t picture her love for him right then although she knew it still existed.

She threw everything off the table just so she could hear a satisfying crash of glass against the floor.

“Evie, Evie, I would never do that to you. I’m telling you the truth.”

“I love you and you just piss all over it. Do you want this to be over? Is that what you want?”

“No, no… I love you too. I – I,”

He held her face in his hands and she tried to shake her head out of it.

“Don’t make me look at you right now. I just – I fucking hate that you’ve done this. And who? Who was so good that you would risk me for them?”

Matt let go of her face and walked out the kitchen.

“Alice must have just left her cardigan… Maybe she left it on the sofa and I found it and thought it was yours -,”

“It’s not just the fucking cardigan, Matt!” She screeched, throwing another breakable at the wall. “You’ve been weird for weeks and this is just the proof I needed.”

The silence remained in the room as they stared each down with different reasons this time around. It would never be the same as when they first met. This was the end.

“I just… I wished you could trust me when I say I didn’t do anything.”

Evie continued to stare with red cheeks and tears down her face as she watched Matt walk out the door then.

She felt like she was finally out of the basket and she hated it.

#cellophane #self para #/lol here it is #matt #para

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robininthelabyrinth · 5 years

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Eyestealer 2 - ao3 link

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Senju Hashirama & Senju Tobirama (mostly gen, hints of other relationships later)

Summary: Hashirama really doesn’t approve of the thoughtful way his father looks at his younger brother’s bright red eyes. He’s sure it doesn’t mean anything good for anyone.

He’s right.

A/N: I feel like I’ve at least mentioned this to @blackberreh-art, @kitsunesongs, @writhingbeneathyou and maybe @perelka-l

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Tobirama never forgets anything.

Ever.

No matter how much Hashirama might wish he does.

Every rashly made promise (Hashirama quickly learns not to commit to anything he isn't sure of, though he never quite gets over his tendency to engage in dramatics), every embarrassing mistake (at least the memories make Tobirama smile, Hashirama assures himself as he nurses his injured pride), even the useless things like what they'd had for breakfast on some random date, like three months and fourteen days ago.

Hashirama knows that one for sure, because he's tested it.

Still, sometimes it's helpful - Tobirama attends the same lessons Hashirama does, since Butsuma refused to get him his own tutor, and his brilliant memory means that he can recite exactly what sensei said about how to do a particular jutsu when Hashirama is struggling to practice them on his own time later.

Tobirama even learns the jutsus faster than Hashirama does. It's almost as if he only needs to watch a single demonstration one time, and then he’s able to repeat it. He's practically Uchiha levels of good at copying, even, and everyone knows they have the Sharingan to help them with it.

But Tobirama's a Senju, not an Uchiha.

Hashirama had hoped that Tobirama's obvious genius would appease their father, but while it gets a certain smug satisfaction, Butsuma remains as antagonistic to his second son as ever, even going ahead and naming little Kawarama as the official spare – next in line to clan leadership after Hashirama – before he'd even survived infancy.

Rude.

"I don't know what his problem is," Hashirama complains one day as he helps Tobirama with his daily morning ritual.

Hashirama need only roll out of bed and into new clothing to be ready, but Tobirama needs much more preparation than that: cream to protect his skin from the sun, a rinse to darken his hair a little to a grey color that could be excused as the inheritance of their distant Hatake cousins rather than admitting his albinism to the enemy, a nasty-smelling drink that Hashirama swears he heard someone say was made in part out of spider web (ick!) to help make his blood stronger, an iryo ninjutsu technique to strengthen his immune system...

He even has special lenses to protect his eyes. He wears them all the time, even when he sleeps, but since he needs to change them out a minimum of once a week before they get dirty, he’s made a habit of changing them in the mornings as well. Though honestly, Hashirama doesn’t really think the lenses actually do all that much? Tobirama's vision is never anything less than perfect, and he confessed once that he didn’t notice a difference once he'd adjusted enough for them to stop itching.

The only thing they actually seem to accomplish is making Tobirama’s eyes a dull flat matte red instead of the shiny red-with-black-flecks they were underneath.

But why would anyone bother just with changing the color such a small degree, especially since they’re still red either way?

"What do you mean?" Tobirama asks, sitting still so that Hashirama could brush the rinse through his hair. He likes that little indulgence, sitting in Hashirama’s lap in a way he considers himself far too dignified to do the rest of the time, and Hashirama likes it too, likes taking care of his little brother in a way he’s not allowed to do most of the time. Being considered grown-up before he's even ten is awful.

"Butsuma!" Hashirama exclaims. He's complained about this before, but he'll happily complain about it again. "You're better at jutsu than I am, you're training yourself in taijutsu and kenjutsu all the time, you're basically teaching yourself how to create seals in what little spare time you have, our teachers say your grasp of battle tactics is second to none - I don't understand what more he could want from you!"

"I don't have the Mokuton," Tobirama answers, because he always takes questions very literally. He's a serious child, and Hashirama finds himself playing up his own childishness in an attempt to compensate. The other children, their cousins, don't like to play with Tobirama, and their parents all seem to have followed Butsuma's lead in respecting Tobirama's abilities without respecting his person. Only his teachers adore him. "He could want that."

"That traveling Uzumaki said you were the most promising suiton user he'd ever seen," Hashirama retorts. "And barely anyone has the Mokuton, anyway!"

"You do."

"Well, yeah. But I'm only as good at it as I am because you keep helping me figure stuff out. And you're always coming up with new ideas, too; not just for me but for everyone!"

Not too shabby for a six year old.

“My chakra levels are also disappointingly low,” Tobirama points out. This is true, unfortunately: he’d had such potential when he was a baby, the medics all said, and they'd spiked dangerously low a few times when he'd been in that dangerous age when his body first started developing its chakra coils, but by now they'd steadied to a fairly low amount that Tobirama was only able to very slowly increase with lots of practice and effort.

And, far worse in Hashirama’s view, the low chakra levels meant that Tobirama is tired all the time. Not that it stops him: Tobirama gets up before dawn to train, and studies late into the night, but even on days where he did get enough sleep there always seem to be circles under his eyes and sometimes a slight tremor in his stride. Hashirama can tell that some days, bad days, any movement at all beyond the most sluggish causes him physical pain; they're working on a iryo jutsu to deal with that, but there's only so much they can do.

“But your control is amazing,” Hashirama says, avoiding the issue of chakra entirely. He wishes that Tobirama had the same reserves he did, but wishing wouldn’t make him suddenly capable of sharing the too-much he had to compensate for Tobirama’s too-little. “You can do more with less chakra than most of the adults in our clan can do with everything they’ve got.”

Tobirama doesn’t need to reply for them both to understand that all this effort, however impressive, was not and would never be enough for their father.

Tobirama shrugs. "I'll just have to try harder to make him happy," he says, like he hadn't cried into Hashirama's shoulder for an hour the night before because Butsuma had absentmindedly praised little Kawarama in a way that he'd never done, not once, for Tobirama.

Hashirama's hatred for his father burns in his chest like he's an Uchiha, cursed clan that they are, and it gets worse every year as he watches Tobirama torture himself for their father's approval in what they both know is futile hope.

Tobirama had been so happy for Kawarama, too, that was the most gut-wrenching part of it; even through his tears of despair and hopeless envy, he'd managed a shaky smile, the ones that more and more often appeared only in his eyes, saying that he was glad that Kawarama would get the chance to know what it was like to have his father be proud of him. He loved Kawarama so much, so very much, had raised him the way Hashirama had raised him because Hashirama was now too busy with the war to do it himself. Of course Tobirama would blame himself for the envy their father so cruelly created.

Oh, how it made Hashirama's heart burn. It would be so easy for their father to make Tobirama happy: a kind word, even a smile. It would cost him nothing. And yet, time and again, he treats his second son with nothing but disdain and endless, escalating demands.

He'd even sent Tobirama out to the battlefield when he was only four, two years before the usual age, despite Hashirama's screams of protest. Only as a courier, yes, toddling through trees to carry messages from one post to another, but it was still only through luck and Tobirama’s own skill that he survived.

"Well, whatever. Who you are is more than enough for me," he says to Tobirama, not for the first time, because it's true and because Tobirama loves to hear it, even if it will never fill the hole in his heart that their father created. "Screw the old bastard anyway."

That last part is something he doesn't normally say. Maybe Hashirama was a little more sore about yesterday's crying session than he'd thought.

Tobirama frowns at him. Serious, always serious. "You shouldn't say such things, Hashirama."

"Why not? He's not here to hear it."

"I don't want to risk him hurting you."

Surprised, Hashirama frowns at him. "You mean hurt you."

That's new, too, and it wounds Hashirama more than anything else, made him hate more than anything else, made him want to hurt something, someone, even himself if it would make the pain go away. It's already intolerable enough that Butsuma routinely put Tobirama at terrible risk, but no, he felt free to punish him, too.

Not for his own mistakes, as Tobirama had few enough of those - but for Hashirama's.

As the only living inheritor of the fabled Senju bloodline limit, Hashirama is now virtually untouchable. Even his father, who used to raise a hand to him at the slightest provocation, wouldn't dare let anyone see Hashirama limping out of their household after one of the beatings he claimed, when Hashirama was younger, were meant to correct his character, and that meant the beatings stopped entirely.

At least, they stopped for Hashirama.

Butsuma had been pleased to learn that his eldest son's behavior could be just as easily corrected by a threat of beating Tobirama (a threat carried out often enough to give it teeth), and possibly even more than it ever had been by beating him directly.

Hashirama tries so hard, now, to be a good child, but even when he’s trying he finds that he's not very good at it.

But Tobirama shakes his head in negation. "No, I do mean hurt you. Our father...he 's terrifying when he's when he's really angry. I don't want you to see that, not ever."

"When have you seen that?" Hashirama asks, frowning. Had he missed something? Has he let his brother down again?

Tobirama hesitates, which is uncharacteristic of him.

"What? When was this? Did he do something -"

"I don't remember," Tobirama says, and he never says that.

Hashirama gapes at him.

Tobirama seems to almost shrink in on himself. "I can't place it, I mean," he corrects himself. "I know what happened on every day, and this didn't happen on any of those days. I can’t place it in the sequence of my memories - but I still remember it happening."

Tobirama had viscerally horrific dreams, so realistic that he couldn't tell they weren't real when he was having them, but he always knew what was real and what wasn't when he was awake, as he is now.

"A genjutsu?" Hashirama suggests.

"I can break almost any of those."

Tobirama is freakishly talented at genjutsu, despite it not being a traditional Senju strength. It isn’t like it really matters, though; no matter how good a Senju could become at genjutsu, any Uchiha would tear it apart like it was nothing. That’s what they’re famous for.

"No, not an illusion. I mean, maybe something to make you forget when it happened, papering it over with some other memory. Maybe?"

"Possible," Tobirama allows, though he still looks disturbed.

"What do you remember? Just Butsuma being angry?"

Hashirama hasn't called Butsuma a respectful title in years, not even to his face.

Tobirama considers the question for a long moment. "I'm scared, in the memory," he finally says. "Really scared, badly, worse than anything. He's angry, but also pleased, smug. I feel his killing intent. I know there's nowhere to run - my leg is trapped by his doton jutsu, and I don't know how to escape. I'm trapped. He laughs and says, 'At last.' He steps forward. And then -"

"And then?" Hashirama prompts when Tobirama trails off, sick to his stomach and not really wanting to know, but certain that he has no choice. If sharing the burden if this mysterious memory will lessen it for Tobirama, Hashirama will gladly shoulder his part of it.

"And then he rips my eyes out of my head."

Hashirama recoils. "He wouldn't!" he protests automatically. "That's – even if he doesn’t do anything with them, that’s still practically eye-stealing! It's - it's forbidden!"

Immoral and disgusting, too, but the important thing is that the Senju are locked in battle with the Uchiha, a dojutsu clan. If the Uchiha ever got wind that they'd started stealing eyes like dishonorable bandits, they would immediately summon all the other dojutsu clans, as well as the daiymo and his samurai in their roles as dispensers of justice, to aid them in eradicating the Senju from the face of the earth.

"I know," Tobirama says. "But I still remember it."

His eyes are distant.

"Do you remember anything else you can't place?" Hashirama asks, curious. “Any other memories, I mean?”

"My best friend falling off a cliff and breaking his leg."

Hashirama frowns. "But - I'm your best friend. And I've never fallen off a cliff."

"I know," Tobirama says, looking upset. "I know that. But in the memory, it’s different. I just know he's my best friend and that he's falling and that I shouldn't have dared him to climb."

Tobirama's never dared anyone to do anything on his entire life. He’s far too serious.

“That’s…awful,” Hashirama finally says, even though he knows Tobirama knows it already. “How long have you remembered this?”

A shrug. “Always, I think?”

Hashirama shudders in revulsion at the thought of it. “Why only mention it now, then?”

“I’m six.”

“…so?”

“I’m not six in the memory,” Tobirama says. “I know I’m not six yet. I don’t know how much younger than six I am, but I’m definitely not six. I thought, you know, maybe it was something that hadn’t happened yet or something? Something in the future? But you still haven’t fallen off any cliffs –”

Now that Hashirama thinks about it, Tobirama’s always hovered around him whenever they were near a cliff.

“– and anyway you don’t really look like the person in the memory.”

“Do you…?”

“No, I’ve never seen him before. Or even anyone who really looks like him. He’s got lighter skin than any Senju but me, but that doesn’t make any sense. I mean, the Uchiha are pale enough to fit, but obviously I’ve never actually met any of them outside of the battlefield.”

Hashirama nods solemnly, shuddering at the thought. He’s been on battlefields across from the Uchiha himself, careful never to look them in the eyes; he’s a ninjutsu expert, or will be, and that means he doesn’t have to come into close contact with any of them.

It’s probably for the best – Butsuma’s always needling him about his soft heart and tendency to adopt sad looking animals no matter how dangerous or wild, jeering that Hashirama would probably try to adopt an Uchiha if he found one that looked upset, and honestly Hashirama’s not entirely sure he’s wrong.

“Anything else?”

“Not really. Next thing I remember is a Senju clan medic standing there with a scalpel, saying he thinks he’s cut them down enough to fit.”

“Cut what down?”

“No clue. I started crying at that point, so everything is blurry.”

"...okay. And that’s it?”

Tobirama nods.

“Where do you think the memories come from?" Hashirama asks.

"I don't know," Tobirama says, and wraps his arms around himself, looking so miserable that Hashirama immediately reaches out to hug him. "I don't know. But Hashirama, promise me - however you feel about our father, don't ever face him like that: weak and helpless, while he laughs. Please. Promise me."

"I promise," Hashirama says at once, and means it with all his heart.

He fully intends to be the one laughing on the day their father falls.

#senju hashirama #senju tobirama #senju butsuma #my fic #eyestealer

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kierongillen · 6 years

Text

Writer Notes: The Wicked + the Divine 1373

Spoilers, obv.

(I say I do these before the next issue came out. I was posting this yesterday and my tumblr account died. As in, my tumblr account was terminated.There’s a couple of things which make me think it’s a glitch (not least there’s no reason for it I could think of, unless Tumblr really loathes writer notes about a lucifer nun. I contact them going “Huh?” and come the morning, it’s back. Hmm. Anyway - here you go, and the next special - Wicdiv: the funnies is out today)

The final historical special, which seems to require my notes to pull them together and talk about the larger intent. Sitting here and writing, I’m not sure I want to. The backbone of the specials have been the relationship between various Lucifers and Ananke across the centuries. You get a chance at least get acquainted with four Lucifer’s, and get to compare and contrast, and you get to see more developed portraits of what Ananke has been up to across the centuries. As the last one in the printed chronology, that means this one ties all that together, plus (as the other one) introducing some key ideas for the next arc.

It differs in another way – while that’s how the reading order will work for anyone working in single issues, in trades, it’s another story. These are going to be gathered together as Volume 8 (OLD IS THE NEW NEW) and printed chronologically (as in, 455, 1373, 1833, 1922). That’s how people in trades are going to first experience them, which creates a different spin and will bring different elements to the surface.

To state the obvious, the big thing in this one is “oh – here’s how bad Ananke can be.” By implication, it raises the stakes for the final arc in terms of what she could do if her back is against the wall.

I admit, I’ve always been a bit worried when I see a handful of people assume the specials aren’t essential to the story. I don’t believe we’ve ever said that, and it’s simply not true. You can skip them, sure, but it breaks the story as much as skipping any individual issue of WicDiv. What we’ve said is that trade readers don’t need to buy the specials to follow the story. I’m trying to think of anything I could have said that could have been misconstrued? Possibly the “anything we use will be reintroduced”? I dunno.

Anyway – this is simultaneously the biggest and smallest of the special. The idea came to me early – a Lucifer having escaped to a nunnery, repented and lived past the end of her two years. Then Ananke and Minerva catch up with her. Apart from that, I knew that it would give the clearest statement of what Ananke has been doing, and that it would end in fire. The rest of this issue was a process of discovery.

(I’ve talked influences here. Ken Russell’s the Devils. Carrie. The Seventh Seal. Black Narcissus. The Sound Of Music. One of these is a lie.)

To get it up front: I was raised Catholic. This issue caused Katie and Chrissy to basically glance side-eye at me, as if encountering an alien. I’ve done something similar to this before, with Generation Hope’s Idie, but this is a far deeper, darker dive into that.

Fun time, for everyone. The response has been interesting. The people who loved it adored it. Catholic Guilt fist-bump.

Jamie/Matt’s Cover: This is just a stunning one. Jamie’s ability to switch modes is something we rarely push in WicDiv (mainly in icons) but doing stained glass is a hell of a thing. But Matt comes out with something else, and actually making this thing glow. Numinous. Totally Numinous.

Ryan’s Cover: Ryan and I first worked together in Three, and I’d first really fell for his work in his Northlanders arcs, so there’s historical fiction previous. This is a particularly grimy issue of WicDiv, and he’s leaned into it. Lucifer, penitent, looking up – at us, but as we go further, we realise her Father. This is the only place we see with her horns. Clearly, having this on the cover and seeing what she looks like inside has an implied story.

IFC

The icons were oddly tricky here, and Jamie had to work for a period drawing of Satan to riff on. However, the Minerva is a delight. If anyone has seen my attempted drawing of a Minerva symbol when signing Volume 7 will know, this is about my level of physical accuracy.

One thing about the specials I find interesting is what’s the minimum of historical data we have to give to make a story make sense. Obviously “It is thought to be the greatest natural of all time” is loaded. Especially the word “natural.” I wish I tweaked it to make it clear I was talking about the Black Death’s effect on the world rather than just Europe though. The Black Death devastating Europe isn’t the biggest natural disaster – it’s the Black Death full stop.

Page 1

I wrote this issue sparsely. It’s designed to be mediative. As such, a slow long pan opening, setting up the themes visually.

The host… well, do I have to explain Catholicism here? The Host is transformed in the ceremony into the body of Jesus Christ. In this period, however, the actual eating of the host was relatively rare. As such, most ceremonies were more about the simple act of observing the host – the holding up in the modern ceremony is a hold-over for that, as well as the larger size of the host itself so folks can see it better.

Of course, that the observation was the key things make this scene possible – it’s possible for someone to observe the host without actually entering the church, as this long slow pan back from the divinity of the church to the rats on the streets show.

Avignon was home of the Papacy in this period. Generally speaking, there was less research in this special than any other one. I read enough to get the Black Death details I needed, to trace its path and various other things, as well as hitting up period Catholicism. However, it’s also the special that’s most based on my own actual pre-existing knowledge.

Page 2

Size is meaning, as always, and an intro to Lucifer’s cheery catchphrase for the issue.

Oddly, getting period Nun garb for lucifer was hard. I wanted originally for her to be a noviate (as in, Novice)but I couldn’t get reference I trusted, so I went full Nun. FULL NUN. Or NUN MORE GOTH as several excellent people put it.

Page 3

By this point we should realise that Lucifer wants her Father To Forgive Her. I am subtle and elegant in my writing, so you may have missed this.

Good stern mother superior here. The choice of the reds in the eyes is strong. And the reveal of the sawn off horns, which says everything about her.

Page 4

From Ring a ring o’Roses, which folks say is about the plague, but apparently dates from far too late.

Page 5-6

And hello, Minerva. You’re having a bad century too. Trying to signal that she’s falling apart but it’s not the plague was a tricky thing, and we obviously do a lot of pointing in the dialogue.

It’s only here that you start getting the weird and uncanny cleanness of the mud-rolling Lucifer. That she’s addressed as the Girl Who Walks Through Plague makes it even odder. This is an unusual notes for me – I haven’t looked at the issue in a while, so some odd stuff is striking.

“None of us are irredeemable” – god, this issue is king of the loaded lines.

The dispensation thing is a reach, but not an impossible one – during the plague there was a dispensation given in various areas where layfolk could hear each other’s confessions when there was no access to a Priest. This seemed a logical enough extrapolation.

Lucifer’s last lines… oh, I’ll save that. She’s got more WTF ARE YOU SAYING ones in a minute.

Page 7-8-9-10

The Two Days Later loc cap reminds me of what I was doing in terms of setting the date of the story – it’s the Sunday before lent kicks off. That google lets us easily find the calendar for the period and work out when Lent would start is A+.

So much mud! Matt is known for the hyper-bright effects, so to go into something as low-key as this is great. See how it works with Ryan as well.

Flagellants are one of the bits of the research which tweaked the story a little. Self-mortification was on my mind – it’s a key thing in The Devils – and the Flagellants are the avatar of religious injuries, so I was thinking of them anyway. After all – they’re a great image, this mass of people whipping themselves and lamenting loudly. Anyway, I do the research, and discover that as well as travelling the country lamenting, they also were basically a wandering lynch mob killing Jews. Which takes the fun out them, y’know?

“A ditch of god’s good earth is closer to paradise than I deserve” – that’s the kind of line that had me looking at my fingers as if they were alien beings. This issue was structured loosely – Lucifer is called, experiences things on the way, and hears Ananke’s confession” with me writing to explore the setting and characters. As such, it was a surprise half the things Lucifer said about the world around her. This shouldn’t surprise me though – I had a similar experience with Idie, in terms of just being afraid for her.

That Lucifer is THE GIRL WHO WOULDN’T BURN is another connection to Idie, of course. And also foreshadowing.

The nudity is the hardest thing to do, especially when you add whipping to it. I wanted it objective, nature of fact. I have no idea if we pulled it off or not. I do like the space that Ryan puts between the head flagellant, Lucifer and the rest – as if they’re a little intimidated, not wanting to be involved.

And then Lucifer’s judgement. Lucifer’s pride and self-hate are fascinatingly intertwined. I’m not sure if I could have dealt with writing much more of her, but part of me would love to have.

(God – just had the image of Lucifer as my crucifix, which is so OTP I laugh)

The silence at the end of the page makes it linger. The expression Ryan gives Lucifer at the end of the scene – utterly ambivalent to the violence behind her – is one of the more quietly chilling things in the book.

Page 11

I could have just had Lucifer find Ananke here, but I wanted something to show her heading through the town – as well as a chance to look at the plague symptoms. The idea of Ananke having arranged all these corpses to guide the way seemed both chilling and very Ananke.

Worth noting – these are the wrong symptoms for Plague circa 1373. This is the original Black Death symptoms, because Ananke is still carrying the O.G. Plague. It’s not the sort of thing I suspect anyone would ever notice, but it’s there.

Lucifer entering the hut on the last page is a great one – Ryan modulating tone towards Lucifer. This is a straight horror shot.

12-13

And hello, Ananke. You look well, how are you, what have you been up to?

YOU DID WHAT? ANnnnnakkkke!!!!

I like the central framing of this. Purely Objective.

The core question of the issue right at the end of the issue – I do like how Ryan has Ananke pushing up the villain here. Ananke knows how this is going to go. Anankes always don’t really want to die, but I suspect this one may be an exception. This has been no fun at all for her.

The Harrowing Of Hell is basically when Christ went down to Hell to free all the souls from Satan. In short. I’m really not sure how much of this stuff I have to say – a lot of you are Americans, and a far less secular culture than us Brits. Most of my readers didn’t know any of this, which did lead to dialling back the allusions a little.

From now on the issue is basically two women talking in a room, one of whom spends the whole time weak in bed. This is not exactly dramatic comics, so we have to work to keep it visually interesting. To be honest, I always like the challenge. One of the most fun issues I wrote at marvel was just Cyclops and Wolverine in a cell, arguing, with just a six pack for company.

Anyway – some great expressions here from Ananke. Look at panel 5 on page 13. Such contempt!

Page 14-15

For those working out what’s up with Minerva, 14 would be the page to go into. We already know from issue 36 what happens if she can’t complete the ritual.

The flashback to Lucifer’s transformation is an interesting one – the pink colouring really makes me think of 90s Vertigo, and the non-pop-comics they put out then seem to be the closest to this issue.

I like the steel in Lucifer’s glance in panel 2 of page 15, and how uncomfortable that makes Ananke.

Page 16-17

The main thing to try and keep this scene less static is Ananke’s Knife. For these two pages it’s a “Oh – Lucifer’s picked it up. That implies something.” The second is “is she going to use it”. Keep things interacting.

These pages are the simplest explaining of Ananke’s methodology. A lot could be extrapolated, but this ties it together. The other side of this pushes forward what I originally conceived for the historical specials - as in, seeing how Ananke’s desires twist a little across the centuries. Frankly? She hits the beat again later, but this is a snapshot of how she’s feeling circa 1373.

Page 18-19 “Adieu” is the one bit of actual french in it. I’m not normally a big one on this. It just sometimes feels right.

The tension of the previous page turns is born of the knife, but here’s it’s all about Ananke’s questions. The pauses panel on page 18 is the thing which lends the question weight. I’m fond of “Frozen” panels where you don’t really get to see someone’s face.

The Father on Earth/Father in Heaven enters the story, of course. This is at the heart of the book.

Yet more dead parents on issue 19. WicDiv, eh?

Wherein, Lucifer has the world’s worst superhero origin story. It’s… like, Guilt? I’ve always had a sort of twinge of “Hmmm” towards Spider-man. Guilt is a motivation that has to be unpacked.

Anyway – Lucifer’s fundamental tragedy.

Page 20-21

Here’s a thought experiment for writers – try re-arranging the statements in the first panel here, and realise why we did the order we did and the implication it would carry if we did it in another way. “The Flagellants” is yet more precision to make sure you demarcate stuff.

The plague traveling comes from the research, and as far as I can work out, is accurate. Of course, there’s far better theories to explain this weirdness than “An invulnerable Old Lady was driving the ship”. People will come to respect my genius in years to come, I’m sure.

Ananke is laying it on a little thick, of course. Like… this is a very strange confession. Confessions are strange. There’s a question of what power is.

This is one of those pages which I suspect will become more important when collected with the other specials and read as the eighth volume before the conclusion.

Page 22-23

Great building rage here from Ryan, and what Matt does with the mood is also A+. The arrival of the wet, gore reds after an issue of the mud and old blood is something else. Compare and contrast to the reds and oranges in Lucifer’s eyes.

I look at this and think about page turns. In an ideal world, the 22-23 would be a page turn – you can see she doesn’t stab Ananke, and the self-inflicted injury by glancing to the right. But space is always a premium, and frankly every page could do with being the reveal-turn in this sequence. It’s that or pad it, right?

Ryan added a panel to draw out the pulling away the flesh, which I love.

“this is my body” is about the point where we realise THIS IS REACHING PEAK CATHOLICISM.

Page 24-25-26

I’m feeling if I explain the sacrament here, I’m patronising folks, and if I don’t, these notes kind of are missing the point. I say a bit earlier here, but Google Transubstantiation if you don’t know it. Suffice to say, this is a particularly blasphemous flip of the core regular miracle of the Catholic mass. Bread and wine into the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Lucifer’s body into fire.

I can’t remember where I had this idea from. I knew it ended in fire initially, but didn’t realise it would be this. It was just there when I needed it. It made sense, and that it makes sense worries me. Comics!

Anyway – everything goes Carrie, as the fire consumes them both. The full horror stretching out and out as much as we can, and we return to the “father forgive me” which haunts this book. Which, by this point, everyone knows is loaded.

I like this Lucifer. She’s one of my favourites. I’m glad I got to write her.

Page 27

And Minerva heads off, with her bag of you know what, into the future.

Page 28

Yes “Transubstantiation” pushes the WicDiv design to breaking point.

That’s enough. Thanks for Ryan to join us on this one – he’s an incredible talent and we were lucky to have him. As I write, WicDIv: The Funnies drops tomorrow, with WicDiv returning for its final arc in November.

Thanks for reading.

#WicDiv #ryan kelly #the wicked and the divine #writer notes

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babyshawwn · 6 years

Text

Perfectly Wrong

MASTERLIST

Word count: 3,3k

A/N: Thank you @brittanyzelazno

At first, I had been annoyed; then unbelievably sad, after that the frustration had taken over and now I felt more like an emotional yet empty train wreck.

It was currently two am and though my head was pounding and my eyes struggling to remain fully open, I had stayed up just in case he finally showed his face.

Chewing into my bottom lip, I stood from the couch I had been sitting on for the past three hours, staring into the dark as my heart sank further into my stomach.

I bended forwards, blew out the candles burning on their last breath as I collected the diploma from today and threw it carelessly into a drawer underneath Shawn’s white tv screen.

I began collecting the empty glasses, bowls with chips and the dirty plates filling up the space on our dining table from having my friends and family stop by to congratulate me with finishing my master’s degree.

Filling the sink with dirty dishes it began to really feel hurt inside my chest from Shawn missing out on a day as special to me as this one.

My drowsy eyes caught the skyline of Toronto from the kitchen window; I could stare at this view for hours. It was my favourite thing about the entire apartment and I was sold the very first time I saw the lights from the city at night, the clods surrounding the CN tower and how the blurry lights from the cars on the highway was sensible in the distance.

Somehow the viewed seemed calming. Peaceful even.

Leaning my back against the sink, I felt the lump in my throat as the ache spread from my chest to the rest of my heavy body. My fingers closed around the edge of the table as I tilted back my head and let my tired eyes sink in.

It was a strange situation, really. Missing someone who was never fully here; I had learnt to go on with my days without him but the memories of what used to be, made it feel like I was suffocating all over again every time he chose not to be around.

Time after time, I had convinced myself to let it go and not be too hard on Shawn – I had always accepted the importance of his career - but I had made it to a point where all he ever did was make me feel worthless. And lonely; so damn lonely.

Shawn was never really here but lately it was always by choice. Whenever he was finally home, he was either out drinking with his friends or going to parties with Toronto’s A-list. He was always writing music with Geoff or visiting Matt and Meghan at their dorm and anyone but Shawn could always see my heartache so I had just kept my mouth shut about it, thinking that at some point he would notice.

I guess tonight was the last drop and I simply couldn’t take it anymore. Shawn used to make loving fun; he made me see everything in colours and now, I was only seeing blind.

I shut my eyes as an uncomfortable feeling spread in my stomach and forced a lump to stick in my dry throat. Rubbing my aching temples, I suddenly heard the front door unlock as footsteps approached in the hall.

“Honey, are you still up?” Shawn called out, stumbling over his words.

I guess one pint with Matt turned into a few. I couldn’t get myself to answer his calls but it didn’t take him long to reach the door to the kitchen. With my back towards him, I took a deep breath feeling the ache in my sore lungs.

“Hey love.” Shawn said as his hands rested on my shoulders. I shrugged him off seconds after and he seemed somewhat offended by my actions.

“Where have you been?” I whispered, my fingers rubbing the edge of the sink roughly to cope with my growing frustration.

“With Matt, we went to that bar downtown and-“

“I can’t fucking believe you, Shawn!” I suddenly found myself screaming at him.

I turned to face him as the smile faded from his heated face when he saw the sad expression in my eyes.

“What’s up with you?” he asked confused with the situation he was suddenly caught in.

“Jesus...” I whispered to myself, shaking my head at his dumb question. “Do you know what day it is today?” I asked him.

He thought for a second as his eyes flickered around the room and the sink filled with dishes gave him enough clues to finally realize.

“Fuck, shit! You graduated… Babe, I completely forgot!” I he apologised quickly. I rolled my eyes at his empty words as I leaned my back against the sink.

“Today was important to me, Shawn! Having you there was important to me too. You knew that yet you still didn’t show. I waited for hours but you didn’t show.” I told him as he reached for my hand.

I dodged his touches as the sickening reached the surface in my stomach; I could hardly look at him without feeling like throwing up.

“I know and I’m sorry but I miss the guys when I’m gone. I hardly have time to see them.”

“And you don’t miss me?” I asked as I felt my heart sink further into my gut.

All I ever did was miss him; his smile, his eyes, his touches. I was dying to feel close, dying to connect and he was feeling nothing at all?

“That’s not what I meant, you know I do.“

My lips began to tremble as I chewed on the bottom one to somehow control my boiling emotions. As Shawn’s eyes fell on mine, I watched how his expression changed by watching the hurt clearly written all over my pale face.

His eyes began flickering around the dim room as I noticed how his shoulders were slightly shaking as a reaction to the panic rushing through his veins at this very second.

In a moment of aching weakness, I let my palm rest on his pounding chest as Shawn’s hand reached to rest on top of mine, pressing against his skin a few seconds later.

Our eyes locked on each other and for a few magical seconds, I felt like he was actually here.

For once fully; his thoughts weren’t somewhere else, his mind wasn’t thinking about what time to pick up Brian, he wasn’t wondering where to get beers with the guys or what lyric would sound the better.

He was fully in this moment with me and as much as that was all I wanted, the pain in my chest reminded me it was too late to mend the scars that cut deep into my heart.

Shawn kept his slurred eyes on mine as his fingers caressed my heated cheek softly. I shut my eyes as his fingers slipped into my messy hair and he leaned forward to place a tender kiss on my forehead.

Sighing deeply, Shawn let his warm forehead rest against mine as his hands folded desperately behind my neck and sent cold shivers down my spine.

“I’m really sorry for not being there tonight. I promise I’ll do better next time.”

“Shawn…”

“No, I-“

“We hardly see each other anymore. But I don’t comment on it because I know your career is important and I’ve always been understanding…. I just don’t understand why I’m not a priority to you anymore. I used to be.” I said, removing his hands from the back of my neck. It took all the strength in me to do so.

His dark eyes caught mine and my heart crumbled as the tears formed in his blank eyes in the matter of seconds. His mouth dropped a little and his lip was hanging low while he gasped for air.

“You are. You are important, love. I just… It’s hard juggling all the people I want to see.”

“And I get that, I’ve always gotten that but… You’ve been home for a week and the only time we’ve spend together is when you stumble into bed at two am when I’m already sleeping. Is that love to you?” I asked him honestly.

My eyes darted to the floor as reality slowly kicked in and punched out all the air in my lungs. My heart flickered as I realized this was the kind of heart ache that I felt deep in my bones; that I had been feeling in my bones for weeks now.

“No, but listen-“ Shawn begged me as he tilted his head to catch my gaze trying to avoid him.

“I’m done listening, Shawn. I’m too good to you, I give you too many chances and too many free passes and I can’t keep doing that anymore. I’ve been waiting for you to fight for this, for me, but I can’t wait around forever.”

“W-wait, what are you saying?”

“I think you already know.” I muttered as the tears ran down my sore cheeks.

“Honey, please. I fucking love you.”

Tears continued to fall from Shawn’s red eyes as he looked utterly heartbroken by my stuttering words. Tilting my head, trying to keep the sobs to a minimum, I watched the pain flush across his heated face as his breathing became strained. My hands found his, shaking massively, and wrapped my fingers around his.

“Do you even realize that’s the first time in three weeks you’ve told me that?”

“It’s not, I-“ But as his mind began to think, the look on his face told me, he couldn’t argue with my accusation because he knew it was true.

“I can’t keep giving so much of myself to someone who obviously doesn’t care as much as he used to.”

“Fuck.” He panicked silently as his hands rubbed his head roughly to somehow cope with the overwhelming pain he felt spread in his heart.

Roughly, Shawn wiped away tears falling from his eyes but no matter how much he desperately tried to removed them, new ones kept replacing the old ones.

His sore cries rang in my ears as his body collapsed on the floor in front of me. His reaction surprised me; all this time I felt like he never really cared anymore.

I dropped down next to him as we both leaned our backs towards the cold wall. His entire body was vibration from hurt.

“I really fucked up this time...” He mumbled, more as a conclusion to himself.

We sat in silence for a while, both with heavy hearts and tears running down our faces, before I finally had the energy to speak again.

“I just need to know, Shawn.” I began, catching his full attention again. ”When did you stop loving me?”

My voice cracked over and my words was replaced with a loud whimper as I stared directly into his teary, wild eyes.

“I never did-”

“I don’t believe you. The way you look at me, it’s changed. You’re changed.” I whispered as the tears began to fill my sore eyes and fall down again.

Saying the words aloud and actually admitting the situation was a lot harder than I expected it to be.

Shawn’s fingers ran through his hair as he pushed back his wild curls and fully exposed his forehead again.

“I’m still me, I promise. My feelings for you haven’t changed. It’s just… everything is crazy and I love it but I’m also losing my mind. I can’t keep up with everything I’m supposed to and-“

“You can’t keep up with me?” I interrupted as Shawn’s thumb removed a salty tear dripping from my upper lip.

“I want to. More than anything but-” he couldn’t get himself to say the words.

I could tell my words instantly made Shawn feel guilty, it wasn’t my intention, but I couldn’t help the way I was feeling.

I think we both - somewhere in the back of our minds knew – we were slowly but surely drifting apart. And had been for a while.

There was no denying it anymore; we hardly saw each and when we finally did find a free hour in our schedules, it felt like we were holding each other back from greater things.

I used to make Shawn look happier; now all I ever caused him was heartache and feeling guilty and that wasn’t right.

We were too young to sacrifice our goals and dreams for each other, we still had too much to concur and much more to see and I was holding him back.

My love was holding him back and he was holding on to how much he loved me as an excuse not to give up on our relationship.

Shawn looked over at me; the sight of me being this upset was clearly breaking his heart as the tears continued to fill his eyes.

“Can I hold your hand?” he asked me, turning his face towards mine.

A short smile escaped my lips as I nodded back at his warm words. Without taking his eyes away from mine, his soft hand slipped into my lap and found my cold fingers within the matter of seconds. A warm feeling ran down my spine and slowly heated my cheeks.

“You’re sure it’s okay?” He checked as his thumb was brushing my knuckles lovingly.

“It’s okay, Shawn.” I told him. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Shawn kept his eyes on me but all I could focus on was the fresh tears falling down his flushed cheeks. I reached to wipe them away as he pushed his head closer to my tender embrace.

Shawn’s jaw was clenched but he instantly relaxed against my hand and his eyes shut as I leaned towards his lips and in a weak moment of longing his sweetness, I kissed his wet, salty lips.

“I feel like I watched you fade away from me and there was nothing I could do about it.” I cried into his warm mouth as Shawn tightened the grip around my fingers.

He broke the kiss to let out a whimper as he lowered his eyes and locked them with mine. His lips were trembling just like his tense body and though it sounded harsh, it was nice seeing him affected by this as well.

“I’m so sorry that’s how I made you feel. I tried so hard to hold on, because I really do love you, but I just don’t have the time. I don’t have the time to love you as much as you deserve but I was too selfish to let you go. I love you too much to let you go and I didn’t realize I was breaking your heart in the proses-” Shawn’s shaking words cracked as the tears gain fully control. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t.” I calmed him as he desperately pressed his wet face against my throat.

His curls were tickling my skin and his tears were slowly soaking my body.

Despite Shawn’s recent actions and lack of affection, he really did love me as much as I loved him.

Sometimes, I guess the timing is just off, as heart breaking as that might be.

“I’ve been madly in love with you since the day you stumbled into me at that coffee shop in Pickering. I don’t want you to doubt that, you’ve always had all of my heart.” Shawn told me as his lips slid across my knuckles. “And I wish that was enough to stay with you but-“

“But we can’t hold each other back anymore.” I whispered, knowing Shawn wasn’t strong enough to say the words.

He shook his head and wiped his tears before wiping away mine as well. My head dropped to his shoulder as he kissed the top of my hair tenderly.

A light laugh sounded from his mouth as he shut his eyes to take a breath.

“What’s funny?” I wondered as his lips continued to brush against my hair.

“You were such a mess that day.”

“What day?”

“At the coffeeshop. Your hair in a messy bun, wearing those hideous purple sweatpants and mascara smudged underneath your eyes.” He whispered as a smile ran across my face.

“My mind was deep in exam land, I didn’t exactly have time to look good.” I defended myself which made Shawn roll his eyes at me.

“Or look where you were going, apparently.” He teased lovingly as his eyes fell on mine. “But it didn’t even matter, you already had me. I was already falling for you.”

“Must have been the sweatpants.” I joked back to cover the pain in my heart.

Shawn’s fingertip moved in small circles in my palm as another tiny smile, that didn’t reach his eyes, ran across his face.

“All it took was a split second and suddenly, I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. I didn’t even know you but I somehow knew I you were my missing piece.”

Shawn locked our eyes together as his finger slipped across my plump lip to remove a dried teardrop sticking to it. I kissed the tip of his finger as we shared a loving smile that eased the ache in my heart just a little.

“You were the best thing in my life for five years.” Shawn assured me, his fingertip tracing the ring on my finger. “We just got lost along the way. Or I got lost.”

“I think I did too.” I told him.

I felt empty. Completely empty but at least I wasn’t feeling worthless anymore.

“Can we agree it’s just bad timing for us? That we’re perfectly wrong for each other.” Shawn asked, moving my hand to his soft lips.

“Why?”

“Because that means in the future, we could still be right for each other. At least that’s hope.”

“You want to have hope?”

“I’d have whatever to hold onto the idea of being with you.”

“Shawn…” I whispered but I didn’t get to say anything.

Quickly, he lowered his head and closed the small gap between our lips. Our kiss was sweet and gently, painful and warm.

“I’m not done loving you yet, honey.” Shawn muttered against my lips. I heard the crack in his voice, knowing he was on the verge of tears once again.

“I’m not done, either.” I whispered back. “I never will be.”

We were perfectly wrong for each other and that made it harder for us to leave. It was the saddest way to end a relationship that used to make us happy; breaking apart when we clearly still loved each other but having the universe work against our hearts.

We both wanted to hang on to the thought that maybe seven years from now, when we’ve both gotten to accomplish our own goals, our paths would cross by accident at that old coffeeshop in Pickering and we would talk about how madly in love we were with each other and joke about how we broke each other’s heart back when we were just kids in love who didn’t know any better and we would somehow, fall back into our old ways because our love for each other never truly went away.

I wanted not to be done loving Shawn yet, but for now, I was. It was time to forgive him and to let him go. As much as my body was aching with the choice, my heart had to let go of the heartache we were clearly giving each other.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes angst

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matt-and-cate · 5 years

Text

Afton : One Night Only

I needed to get outside.

We booked campsite 20 at Afton State Park. It was secluded, surrounded by trees, and atop a bluff overlooking the St. Croix river. It was perfect.

I read reviews before we left, and the general consensus was that the hike in to the campsite was a *strenuous* 3/4 of a mile.

At the risk of arrogance, I thought ‘how strenuous could a less than a mile hike possibly be?’ I was patient and waited to find out. The morning we left my 5 year old niece told me to be careful that no ghosts get me in the woods. When we arrived to check in the very friendly ladies working the counter asked, somewhat ominously, if we were prepared for the hike up to the campground. At the beginning of the trail no less than two women stopped us and remarked, incredulous, "are you camping overnight? In...*there*?"

At this point I'm 1000% certain this place is haunted.

We completed the hike to the campground. When we got to the top I was indeed sweating and breathing hard, but I think to call it strenuous is a bit of an overstatement. Pack light and you'll be absolutely fine.

It started to rain as we were chopping wood. Running through the prairie paths back to our site at twilight as the rain started coming down, our arms full of firewood, was breathtakingly fun.

I did manage to get a fire going in spite of the rain and cooked dinner: potatoes, mushrooms, asparagus, corn on the cob, and heirloom tomatoes chopped up into bite size pieces, seasoned with Old Bay, and roasted over the fire. The rain was coming down harder and we were getting soaked, but I was determined. I helped Matt into the tent and then cleared up our belongings for the night. Once the veggies were done I tossed them on a plate and ran through the rain to pass them to Matt. I stripped down to the bare minimum, hung my wet clothes on top of the tent, and crawled inside. After I dried off we sat cozy and safe, eating a yummy dinner while watching the rain from our tent windows.

It was one of the happiest moments of my life.

When we were ready for bed we snuggled together and fell asleep listening to Band of Horses, which brought back all the sweet memories of our honeymoon at Rocky Mountain National Park this time last year.

This trip, even with the rain, was one of the best nights of camping I've ever had.

We slept in, crawled out of the tent when we were good and ready, and battled the hordes of spiders that had taken up residence in our shoes overnight. I made coffee and we snacked on our special treats for breakfast (dates for me, tropical flavored swedish fish for Matt), and then packed up our gear to head home.

At no point was I visited by ghosts, so I think it’s safe.

We're home now. We hung our gear up to dry and are booking our next trip to Afton.

Location: Afton State Park

Site: 20

Hike to campground: Not strenuous

Haunted: No

Coffee: Treehugger by Peace Coffee

Album: Infinite Arms by Band of Horses

Weather Conditions: Rain, cloudy, humid, rainy, 70s.

Wildlife seen: spiders, crickets, pill bugs, American Goldfinch, Monarch butterfly, squirrels.

Lessons Learned: Do bring an extra tarp if it’s rainy; don’t stick your hand inside your shoe to find out what’s in there -- use a stick; and you don’t need as much food as you think you need, but you do need plenty of water.

#camping #minneapolis #minnesota #afton state park #Nagel Adventures

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mackenzieholman5-blog · 5 years

Text

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hailqiqi · 6 years

Text

Skirting Katabasis

Rating: T

No Trigger Warnings

Pidge & Keith Friendship, Pidge/Lance Romance

So! This is my piece for the @pidgebigbang! This piece is kind of my baby and I'm really excited to be able to finally share this story.

Mad love goes to @ibupony, my hard-working artist for this Bang who drew this fantastic piece for a later chapter, and @sp4c3-0ddity, my long-suffering beta! Special Credits

Shout outs to @mistyhollowpro, @octaviainthewasteland, @potato-person and @radiantcerulean for their encouragement!

The concept for this fic was heavily inspired by A Study in Relevancy by @some-cookie-crumbz. (It's a fantastic Kidge one-shot. Go read it.)

The implementation of the paladin bonds was inspired by the epic gen fic Truce by Kyanve. (Go read this too. It's incredible.)

Certain phrases shamelessly stolen from Reem's vast collection of gen and plance works, which are well worth paying homage to.

Now, without further ado!

Chapter One: She Forgot to Expect the Important Things

Read it on AO3 here.

5,602 words.

Sinking into the sheets had quickly become Pidge's favourite part about going to bed. The sheets on the castle were ridiculously soft and the duvets were plush and fluffy, like how you always imagine clouds should feel if they were warm and not composed of ice water. Altean duvets were warm from the instant they touched your skin, making cocooning yourself in them feel like an act of extravagant luxury. (Pidge hadn't figured out the why yet, but it was on her list. She suspected they could share something in common with the thermoregulators in their body suits.)

The worst thing about going to bed was knowing that she'd have to wake up early (which was, really, the only reason she bothered going to bed at a decent hour at all) and knowing that she could be summoned by the alarm at any time. The second worst thing was the knowledge that nightmares were all-too-common and it was often all-too-hard to fall asleep in the first place, but she was exhausted from the final performance of The Voltron Show earlier and well... She had the others for nightmares. That was one of the best things about being part of Voltron — you never had to be alone if you didn't want to be.

Yawning, Pidge rolled herself up in the duvet and nudged Green sleepily with her mind to say goodnight, receiving a small nudge of amused fondness in reply. She could tell that Shiro, Allura, Lance and Hunk were all safely ensconced in their own beds, and they were passing through an allied quadrant where the chances of attack were low. It was a good night for sleeping.

...Or, it was meant to be.

Pidge cracked one eye open and glared at the wall, as if the force of her glare could make the blue flashing stop. When it didn't, she let out a sigh that was more of a groan and wriggled around under the covers, trying to keep as much of herself in the warmth as possible while she stuck a bare arm out and retrieved her tablet. Who the quiznak would be ringing her at this hour?

"Pidge! Uh... Are you there? It's too dark to see anything."

"Hang on..." Pidge flipped over onto her stomach, blanket still over her head, and placed the tablet carefully on the pillow before reaching up to flip her fairy lights on. "Better?"

"All I can see is your nose..."

He was right. The little square showing her own image looked not unlike the Emperor from Star Wars, if the Emperor had been young and bathed in a warm yellow glow rather than sickly blue.

"Keith, I was almost asleep. I really don't care right now," Pidge said, yawning for emphasis. "What's up? And if you're going to tease me about The Voltron Show again..."

"No, no!" Keith said hurriedly, a smile tugging at his lips. "The big finale was pretty good though. We watched it at Headquarters."

Pidge smiled in reply. "So?"

"I actually had something else I wanted to ask you about..." Keith glanced left and right before continuing. "Your dad helped design The Obol, right?"

"The Obol?" Pidge repeated, curiosity piqued. "The ship they flew on the Kerberos Mission?"

Keith nodded. "Yeah. Your dad helped design it, right?"

"Why are you asking me about The Obol?"

"Pidge!" Keith touched a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes momentarily. "Did your dad help to design it?"

Pidge frowned. "Of course he did, he was the engineer for the mission. He had to know how it went together."

"Okay, so..." He took a deep breath. "Are you familiar with how it goes together?"

"Kind of, but... Keith, why are you asking me all this?"

"I was getting to that."

"Can you get to that quicker? I'm meant to be asleep right now," she griped, pushing her curiosity aside in favour of annoyance. "Why didn't you wait until morning to call, anyway?"

"Don't you love saying 'there are no mornings in space'?"

Pidge snorted and rested her head on the pillow next to the tablet. "Get to the point, man." She yawned. "I can't stay awake much longer."

"Okay, so... I was on a mission with the Blades to a decommissioned base near Olkarion. We were checking to see what was salvageable, and in one of the rooms they had The Obol in pieces."

"Mmm..." Pidge replied sleepily. "That sounds... Wait, what?"

Okay. She was officially awake now.

"They had The Obol, in pieces," Keith repeated patiently. "Like they'd completely taken it apart and it was in a thousand bits, but it was definitely The Obol."

"Wow," she breathed. She wasn't quite sure how to feel. The Obol had embodied all of her father's and brother's hopes and dreams, and a good deal of her own, and she'd assumed it lost forever when the crew was captured. She hadn't even thought to look for it.

"So... Do you think you could put it back together?" Pidge tilted the tablet towards her and looked at him hard. His expression was hesitant, but his eyes were soft...almost pleading.

She smirked. "Who do you think I am, Keith? Me and Hunk can rebuild it, no problem."

"No Hunk," he said firmly. "I want to keep this between us."

"What? Why?"

"It..." He trailed off, looking everywhere but at the camera while he gathered his thoughts. "I want to surprise Shiro with it, and the less people that know about it the better."

"Oh." Pidge frowned. "Would Shiro like that surprise? He might not have the best memories of the ship he was flying when, you know..."

"He's fine when he talks about it," Keith said quickly. "Or... At least he was, when he talked about it. He used to say how much it ended up feeling like home. But he doesn't really talk about it anymore..." He trailed off, eyes downcast as his lips turned down in a frown.

Pidge sighed. "He doesn't talk about much anymore."

"I know. That's why I wanted to surprise him."

"Okay..." She nodded, biting her lip. "It'd be way easier with Hunk on board, but I should be able to do it. Are you sure we can't tell Hunk? I don't think he'd tell."

"Positive. More people keeping secrets would be more obvious in the bond. Plus you're always thinking about one project or another, so it would be easy for Shiro to overlook."

Huh. Well, that made sense. Keith always had been more sensitive to that stuff than Pidge.

Trying to put The Obol back together by herself would be no easy feat, but she'd heard her dad describe the ship and its design a million times. With all the technology at her disposal she should be able to manage it. Or at least, get close enough that she'd only need Hunk's help for a short amount of time, thus minimising the chances of exposure. And if it might help bridge the weird distance that had grown between Shiro and the rest of the team, then the hard work would definitely be worth it.

"Okay then. I'm in."

The base where Keith had found The Obol was on a planetoid only half a varga away from Olkarion (by lion). With the conclusion of The Voltron Show there were a large number of planets and other civilisations looking to join the coalition, and so a preliminary 'Coalition Summit' of sorts had been called on Olkarion. Since both Team Voltron and the Blade of Marmora would be present, it was the perfect opportunity for The Heist, as Pidge had taken to calling it.

Voltron and the Blades were the hosts, so they had to be there to set up. The second day was primarily taken up by arrivals, with the last one scheduled for early afternoon. Discussions weren't due to start until the next morning. That meant Day One could be spent catching up with friends and family, leaving them free to sneak off on Day Two in the late afternoon. As long as they were back by morning they'd be fine, and Pidge figured that they had a fifteen-hour block of time at the minimum.

The hardest part would be getting away from the rest of the team, but with Shiro's odd distance Keith wasn't too worried about giving Shiro the slip and he wasn't expecting anybody else to go looking for him. It wasn't so easy for Pidge, but she'd managed to set Matt up with Lance and Hunk on a 'boys' game night', and she knew that would definitely keep them occupied long enough for her to sneak out (and probably get back, too, but they would likely just end up crashing in Lance's room so they wouldn't even know she'd gone).

That was how Pidge found herself in Green's hangar late that afternoon, going over her checklist for the mission while waiting for Keith to show up. She'd managed to find a disused hangar big enough for her lion in a far-off corner of the castle and set that up for The Great Puzzling (what she'd nicknamed the 'rebuild The Obol project' in her notes), and the bay doors for the hangar had been left open for their return. She was in her armour and had her bayard, just in case the Blade had missed anything during their previous exploration of the base. She'd managed to procure a bunch of the sacks Keith had taken into the weblum to collect the scaultrite (and had a lot of fun with the expansion mechanism), and she had set up a private frequency for them to communicate on during the mission.

Now all she needed was for Keith to turn up, but he was late.

She tapped her fingers against her gauntlet impatiently, tossing up the pros and cons of sending him a message. If he was having trouble getting away from the others, a message might look suspicious.

"Then again, is he the type to forget the time? We never really scheduled our hang outs before," she mused out loud, earning an amused rumble from Green. "He was never late to training, at least..."

The sound of the door opening echoed in the hangar.

"Dude! I've been here for—"

"...Pidge?" Lance stood near the entrance, staring at her with surprise. "Why are you wearing your armour? You're going somewhere?"

Pidge stared back with wide eyes. "Um... I was going to... Uh..." She glanced around the hangar desperately, looking for some quick inspiration. "I got invited by Rynar to check out a city on the other side of the planet, so I was just about to head out!"

"You did?" His shoulders slumped. Pidge thought he looked disappointed, but why would he look disappointed? "How long are you going to be gone for?"

"Um, I'm not sure," she replied, biting her lip. "I probably won't be back until pretty late. She wanted to show me some stuff that's only really useful at night."

"Oh," he answered, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. "I guess I'll catch you some other time then."

"Yeah, okay." Pidge hated herself for lying to him. Lance was so trusting — he was always willing to take whatever she said at face value, simply because 'we're teammates, Pidge. Why would you lie to me?' But Keith was adamant that they keep the project between the two of them to minimise exposure, so she had to lie.

Lance shrugged and turned to leave. Pidge watched him go with a frown. Shouldn't he be playing video games right now?

"What did you want, anyway?"

"Oh!" Lance stopped short and spun back around, hand still at his neck and...was that a blush on his cheeks? Why would he be blushing? "I was just gonna ask if you wanted to go and watch the sunset."

"The sunset?" Pidge's mind raced to a halt and her mouth dropped open. "Uh..."

"Well, we were talking about them before, remember? And they're really pretty here, and I know a good spot, and just...thought maybe you'd like to see it... I dunno." He looked away and shrugged, but not quickly enough to hide the deep burgundy of his cheeks.

Pidge's own cheeks were burning, but before she could formulate a reply the hangar doors opened again. Keith walked in and she jumped, trying to act casual. Lance straightened up too.

Keith stopped just inside the doors and looked between her and Lance curiously. "Uh... Am I interrupting something?"

"No! No, no, nothing at all," Pidge replied a little too quickly, hoping Keith wouldn't pick up on how flustered she was. "Uh... Are you ready to go?"

"What the cheese?" Lance's eyes widened. "Rynar invited Keith?"

"Yeah? Why are you so surprised?" Keith raised an eyebrow at him, and Pidge silently thanked Kolivan for Keith's ninja spy training. He was a much better liar than she was.

"You don't even like science! You're worse with tech than I am!" His eyes narrowed as he looked from Keith to Pidge. "Is that why you set up the gaming night thing? So you two could sneak out?"

Pidge froze.

"Lance. Are you crazy?" Keith rapped Lance on the forehead with the back of his knuckles, taking his attention off Pidge and giving her room to breathe. "Rynar invited Pidge, Pidge asked if I wanted to come as a Blade representative. That's all."

"Oh." Lance visibly deflated, and Pidge breathed a mental sigh of relief. Somewhere at the back of her mind, Green was laughing at her. Stupid cat. "Uh, right."

Keith looked to Pidge. "We need to go."

Pidge started. "Yeah! Okay, let's go." Green lowered her head, opening her jaw to admit them, but Pidge hesitated and glanced back at Lance. "Uh, I'll see you later? Make sure you beat Matt for me!"

"Yeah, see ya." Lance waved as he left the hangar, shoulders slumped.

The doors slid shut behind him and Pidge turned to start up the ramp to where Keith was waiting for her, one eyebrow raised. "What?"

Keith shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go."

Green was still laughing at her.

Keith stood just behind Pidge's seat as they went up, but as soon as they broke atmo he started wandering around the cockpit, surreptitiously running his hands over the consoles as he 'checked their course'.

Pidge fought back a smile as she watched him, but there was something bittersweet in it. He still looked wrong in that Blade uniform.

"Do you miss it?"

Keith glanced over at her question, a rueful smile on his face. He looked back at the console before nodding. "I miss the team. I miss Red."

"We miss you too. It's not the same with you gone." To be honest, she was never quite sure what was different, but there was something missing now. "I miss you keeping me company when I'm working."

"I didn't really do that a lot," he replied, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

She shrugged. "Yeah, but I always appreciated it when you did. Sometimes it's nice to have someone there that I don't have to talk to, y'know?"

Keith nodded and looked away, shoulders slightly hunched. Pidge turned her attention back to the viewscreen and Keith began looking around the cockpit again, touching his fingers to the curves of the walls. Not for the first time, Pidge was glad that she hadn't had to change lions. Green was a comforting presence in her mind, a strong support and a guiding hand — she couldn't imagine how lost she'd be out here without her.

Green rumbled in agreement around them, and Pidge smiled softly. Yeah, she wouldn't give up Green for the world.

A sudden thought struck her, and she glanced back over at Keith. "Do you miss Black?"

"Black?" he repeated, taken aback. "No, not really. We didn't have the same connection."

Pidge nodded. "That makes sense. Lance misses Blue, and he says Red misses you."

"Yeah, whenever I come back to the castle..." Keith replied, tapping a finger to his temple with a smile. A moment later his smile turned devious, his eyes twinkling as he asked: "So... What was that? With you and Lance?"

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him. "What was what with me and Lance?"

Keith snorted. "I interrupted a Moment."

"You didn't interrupt anything."

"Sure," he answered, shrugging. "Why was he there, then? What did he want to talk to you about?"

"Uh..." Pidge examined the flight path she was following, carefully avoiding his gaze as she fought to keep the blush from her cheeks. "He asked me if I wanted to go and watch the sunset."

"...Like on a date?"

"No!" she replied, a little too quickly. "He didn't say it was a date. Uh. He just asked if I wanted to go. But obviously I couldn't, because we're going to that base."

"But he had a games night, right? He invited me to join earlier."

"He did? I didn't know that." Pidge was genuinely surprised. Keith had never been much of a gamer, and Lance had never been one for Keith's company. Then again, they did get on a lot better now than they had at the beginning. She suspected they had the potential to be great friends if Lance would only give it a chance.

"Why would you know that?" Keith turned and leant back against the console, arms crossed over his chest.

Pidge shrugged and looked away.

"Is there something going on between you two?" Pidge shook her head and glanced back at him. Keith tilted his head to the side, examining her. "Do you still like him?"

"Huh? I never liked him. Not like that."

Keith deadpanned. "Paladin bond, Pidge. It was obvious. You've liked him for ages." He paused before continuing, tone suddenly much softer. "Did you really not notice?"

"I..." Pidge trailed off, eyes narrowed in thought. Lance was a good friend, but they were friends and that was it. He was too flirty, too goofy, too extra, too tall for her to ever think of as anything more than a friend. Besides, all of her extra energy was taken up with looking for Matt and her dad. She didn't have time for distractions. "What makes you think I like him?"

"Do you want a list?" Keith replied, before raising a hand and ticking each point off on his fingers. "You let him use your stuff. You give him the softest smiles. You blush around him. When you guys make plans you feel happy and excited. People getting in your personal space puts you on edge, but when Lance does it you feel warm. And then you always get jealous when he flirts with other girls."

Pidge blinked. "I don't get jealous! It's just annoying."

Keith sighed. "That's jealousy, Pidge. Paladin bond, remember?"

"I never get anything like that from you," Pidge grumbled.

"Because I know how to keep my emotions to myself. You leak them everywhere," he responded. "We all know that you like him. I think the only person who doesn't know is Lance." He frowned. "And you, apparently."

"Oh, quiznak," said Pidge, burying her face in her hands and letting Green fly herself for a moment. Did she like Lance? She thought back over all the time they'd spent together with a critical eye. Lance was... He was a jerk, but he could be sweet when he wanted to. He always seemed to go the extra mile to connect with her, and she'd always appreciated that about him — even when she couldn't show it.

But did that mean she liked him? How was she supposed to figure that out? Green rumbled sympathetically beneath her feet, helpfully supplying a montage of images — Lance dressed in the Blade of Marmora uniform, Lance leaving the team instead of Keith, Lance's familiar presence in her mind becoming a small, easily overlooked breath like Keith's had.

The stab of pain she felt at the idea told her all she needed to know.

"Oh," she said as realisation hit her. "Oh. I, uh, I guess I do like him." Keith chortled, and Pidge's surprise quickly turned into annoyance. "Why are you laughing? I'm not supposed to like Lance! Keith! This isn't a good thing!"

Keith just laughed harder, and soon he was doubled over and wheezing from the exertion. Pidge glared at him, then turned away to look out the viewscreen. Screw him. If he was going to be like that, she didn't need to talk to him about it. In fact, she didn't want to talk to anyone about it, because she didn't need to like Lance at all, and the more she acknowledged it the more it felt real, so talking was a bad idea.

She couldn't like Lance. No way.

"I'm sorry," Keith finally spoke, wiping at his eyes as he straightened up. "You really didn't know, huh?"

"No," she answered quietly. "I didn't... Ugh. It's just a crush, Keith. It's not important in the long run."

"If you say so," he replied with a shrug. "But if he's asking you to go and watch the sunset, then maybe he likes you too?"

She slid her gaze to him. "Does he?" Did she even want him to? When he looked confused, she tapped her head twice. "You're better at reading the bond than me."

"Ah," Keith answered. "I don't know. I'm not really in the bond now, but his feelings towards you were always pretty positive?"

"He likes Allura." Pidge's heart sank. Thinking about Lance's crush on Allura had always made her feel bad; now that she could put a name to why, it made her feel even worse. The plus side was that that made her annoyed, which was a much better feeling than 'mildly heartbroken'.

"I'm...actually not sure about that? At first, yeah, I guess, but then his feelings towards Allura kinda...stopped being consistent. The whole thing didn't make sense." Keith shrugged again. "But you guys were always pretty close, and Matt said you spend a whole lot of time together... And even I could feel how disappointed he was when you turned him down in the hangar."

Pidge shifted in her seat. "Honestly, Keith, I don't know? He's been acting really...clingy lately."

Keith raised an eyebrow. "Clingy? Isn't that just Lance?"

Pidge laughed at that, and Keith offered her a small smile. "No, he's being more clingy than normal. Sometimes I feel like he's following me around the castle. It started after I found Matt, actually." Her eyes widened at the realisation, and she paused to think about it. "He was kind of sulking the whole time I was showing Matt around the castle, and I thought it was because Matt hit on Allura when he first met her, —" Keith let out a bark of laughter "— but then..."

She trailed off, frowning. The only person who knew the whole story was Lance, and she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to talk to anybody else about it. It wasn't a fun memory to relive.

"Then what?" Keith prompted, his eyes gentle.

Green rumbled sympathetically, and Pidge took a deep breath. "Well, after Matt left I kind of...broke down?" Keith's eyes widened and Pidge hurried to continue. "Not like, a nervous breakdown or anything! And it wasn't because Matt left. It was just... When I found Matt he was on a top secret mission, and the Rebellion had set up a fake grave to cover his identity. He left a coded message on it in case Dad ever found it, and that's how I discovered where he was stationed, but..."

Keith gave a sympathetic grunt. "You thought it was real."

"Yeah. I thought it was real." Her grip on the flight sticks became painful, and she forced herself to relax. "And then I was just so happy that I'd found Matt that I just kind of...pushed it aside? But a couple of nights after Matt left I was playing video games with Lance and it just hit me. And Lance was there for it."

They had been talking about some of the things they missed about home, and Lance had lamented that he couldn't even remember the last time he experienced rain. Pidge, on the other hand, could remember the last time she experienced rain all too well. It was one of those memories that made her wish she could program a way to delete them.

They flew in silence for a few moments, the stats on the display ticking over as they travelled onwards. They were almost at the base now.

"I'm sorry, Pidge," Keith said finally. "I know that hurt."

Pidge nodded, looking away. "I... Thanks." She fell quiet for a moment, then shook her head. "Anyway. That's when Lance started hanging around a lot more. It probably doesn't mean anything."

"Hmm." The planetoid hosting the base was visible in the viewscreen now, and Keith turned to look as the base rapidly grew larger. "The room with The Obol is around the far side, so you should land her over there."

"Okay." Grateful for the change in topic, Pidge pulled on the flight sticks and the Green Lion soared over the base. They landed gently on the bare rock of the planetoid next to a low, dark building without any windows. Pidge checked the scanners before standing up. "Masks up, Keith. Looks like there's hardly any atmosphere here."

"All right." Pidge bent to grab her helmet when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Hey, about Lance? He obviously cares about you. You should try and make it up to him. The sunset thing."

Pidge gaped at him as he released her, activating his mask with his other hand. Keith was the last person she ever expected to get relationship advice from. Keith was who you went to when you wanted to know how to disembowel someone cleanly, not how to make friends.

Keith rapped the helmet in her hands in consternation. "What? Put it on, Pidge. We need to move."

The Heist went off without a hitch.

They'd fallen into old habits quickly, covering each other as they cleared each room of the base. Once they were sure no squatters had moved in since Keith's mission with the Blades they hit up the control room, where Keith kept an eye out (more out of habit than anything else) while Pidge copied every byte of data she could find in their servers.

Once that was done, they moved to the room with The Obol.

Pidge hadn't been able to hold back the tears when she first saw it. There, right in front of her, lay her father's pride and joy, the pinnacle of a lifetime's career...in pieces all over the floor. The shell of the ship had been taken off in chunks and was still recognisable, but everything down to the toilet seat had been disassembled into its smallest components and then seemingly thrown at random. She wasn't sure if they were stripping it for valuables or just examining it to see how it worked, but both options made her angry. The Obol was a masterpiece of human engineering. It didn't deserve this.

But, as always, they had a job to do, and there was no time to wallow in sadness. Pidge brought the Green Lion into the nearest hangar and they quickly got to work, carting bits and pieces from the room to the storage bay in Green's underbelly using some boxes and old-fashioned trundle trolleys that Pidge had found on the castle. Some bits were easy, some — like the larger pieces of the shell — required both pairs of hands and a lot of grunting, and others — like the shredded mattresses they found discarded in a corner — brought the anger back and gave them fuel for the next trip.

At one point — two hours in — Pidge had returned from the hangar to find Keith standing at the side, his back to her and his shoulders shaking. He had turned at her approach and held out the item in his hands — a Garrison jacket with SHIROGANE written on the breast — and her heart had stopped.

She hadn't been prepared to find personal effects.

As it turned out, neither of them were. In hindsight, it was an obvious oversight — why would the Galra keep the pieces of the ship, but not the contents? — but both of them had been so focused on bringing the ship back to life that they forgot about things like socks and pencil cases and photographs. After the discovery of the jacket Keith had fetched three boxes and placed them in the centre of the room, and any personal items they came across were silently placed in the corresponding box before they went back to the task at hand. There was no time to waste on tears.

It took them a little under seven hours to stow everything safely on-board the Green Lion. The three boxes were the last things to board, and stayed in the cockpit with them. Pidge took off, set the autopilot, and took one look at the minute shaking of Keith's shoulders before deciding that there was time to wallow after all. The duo spent the trip back kneeling on the hard floor of the cockpit, turning over the items in the boxes and recounting memories, sobbing and laughing in turn as they leant against each other with tears running down their faces.

By the time they broke atmo on Olkarion they had dry throats and red eyes, but the experience had brought them a little closer and given them renewed determination to put the ship together and fix something in the mess that was their shattered lives. For the first time, Pidge wondered if Keith had specifically asked her to help with this project for more than just her technological prowess.

Unloading was much quicker than loading, and by the time they finally disembarked in Green's hangar — sweaty, greasy, and exhausted — the sky was starting to show the first signs of dawn. If they showered and went straight to bed they might get about four hours sleep before they had to be up for their first meeting of the day, and while that wasn't enough neither Pidge nor Keith were ever really expected to contribute much to diplomatic niceties so Pidge at least had that to be thankful for.

They shuffled down the hallways side-by-side in companionable silence, both too physically exhausted and emotionally drained to bother making conversation. Pidge's entire focus was on putting one foot in front of the other — when she got to her room, she was going to have the quickest, hottest shower ever, and then she was going to sink into her warm Altean blanket-cloud and have the best sleep of her life.

She must have muttered that aloud, because Keith let out a short laugh and grunted something that sounded like 'me too'. Or maybe her thoughts were just that loud that even Keith was picking it up over the bond. Whatever.

Nothing was going to get in the way of her and her bed, and she was so close. They were almost at the lounge.

"What the quiznak have you two been up to?!"

Lance's voice shattered the quiet of the hallway, cutting through her thoughts like a knife and making her head throb with pain. Beside her, Keith stumbled and almost fell, evidently as shocked by Lance's sudden appearance as she was. Or would be, if she was awake enough to feel anything but blurry exhaustion.

"Lance...?" she said slowly, squinting at him. "What are you doing awake?"

Lance stood at the turn towards their rooms in his dressing gown, one hand on his hip as he surveyed them with raised eyebrows. "What am I doing awake? What the quiznaking cheesey telephones are you two doing awake? And don't tell me Rynar took you to a club or something, because I won't believe you."

Pidge stared at him, the wheels in her mind sluggishly turning before settling on an answer. "It's a really long story."

She saw Keith minutely shake his head out of the corner of her eye. By the way Lance's expression hardened, she guessed he'd noticed it too. "Care to share?"

"She can't," Keith said, straightening up. "Secret mission." He patted Pidge lightly on the shoulder and started forward down the hall. "The sun's almost up. I'm going to bed."

Lance narrowed his eyes but let him pass with a murmured 'goodnight' before turning back to Pidge, concern and confusion warring in his gaze. All of a sudden Pidge felt very aware of his presence. She wasn't sure if she wanted to run to him or bolt in the other direction, bed be damned.

As the silence ticked on, Keith's advice from earlier sprang to mind, and the words were tumbling out of her mouth before she had time to think about them. "Do you want to go and watch the sunrise?"

He blinked at her. "Seriously?"

Pidge shrugged and shuffled her feet. "I'll need to take a shower first, but yeah?"

Lance's expression slowly blossomed into a wide smile, and Pidge fleetingly thought that it was brighter than any of the stars she'd seen so far. Quiznak.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

For once, the happiness radiating down the bond was palpable to Pidge.

–> Chapter Two: She Forgot to Look More Closely

#pidge big bang #plance #keith and pidge friendship #gimme that brotp #my writing #pidgance #flirtyrobot #lidge #pance #i apologise if the links and read more aren't working because they work on my computer but not the phone and I'm just??? confused

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