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jedifarmerr · 2 years

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Javier's Having a Baby

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader/OFC (no y/n or physical descriptions but has backstory.)

Chapter/Series Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 4.5k

Chapter Warnings: morning sickness, nausea & vomiting (1 instance), language, little bit of smoking, just a lot of fluff for this one.

Series masterlist

Chapter 2 : The Realization

The smell of pancakes and bacon wafted through the house.

A far cry from the usual scent or lack thereof on a typical work week. Any other day breakfast was a quick grab and go in a race out the door, but this morning you resisted the urge to hit the snooze button and hauled out of bed early to whip up something special.

The table was set, food dished out – it was all very Leave it to Beaver.

You heard the heavy thump of a man on a mission barreling into the room. His brunette hair was tousled from raking his fingers through it repeatedly; his tie cockeyed, but at least his white button up and slacks were neatly pressed – thanks to you.

Javier scanned the room, “Hey honey, where’s my-”

“By the door.” His blood moon eyes shot to you then to where you were pointing. “Papers are in your briefcase and I packed you a lunch. Now, get over here before it gets cold.”

Javier wandered over like once he got close it would suddenly disappear in a cloud of smoke. The idea that someone was taking care of him still felt like a dream.

He sat down in the chair then kissed your cheek. “You didn’t have to do this,” he said, but the bags under his eyes said otherwise.

“I wanted to,” you piped up, carefully peering over the rim of your mug. “It’s a big day after all.” The words rippled like skipping stones along the once calm sage liquid. His lips twitched with an ambiguous hum of recognition. You took a cautious sip of the warm drink while he doused his plate in syrup. “Do you know which way you’re leaning?”

The conflict in his eyes answered first, then a subtle shake of his head. “Just gonna see how today goes.” He tried to smile, but only one side of his lips cooperated.

Two months of endless back and forth phone calls and the DEA was throwing up a Hail Mary – flying out a half-dozen of their best and brightest to seal the deal.

Since deciding to explore the option, the door on his time with the DEA and years spent in Colombia had been cracked open. Memories he’d long kept at bay flooded his mind. Vague stories slipped from his lips in the runoff of overflowing thoughts with nowhere else for them to go.

Each one slotted into place – a near portrait of that period in his life. Composed of more pieces than just that of what Javier told you. Few were from Steve, far too many from Joe’s past ramblings; he boasted of his ex-partners deeds like they were somehow an extension of him. Then there was the rumor mill of his ex-colleagues which, like a Wikipedia page, held a bite of truth. It was odd how obsessed they were, jealous no doubt as they pointed out his absence at events such as Joe’s wedding; sharing not-so-hushed theories on why the agent hadn’t carved out time in his schedule as if Javier could leave Colombia at the drop of a hat.

Obviously, Javier didn’t talk much about the more traumatic events. Just like the news coverage, his stories were censored but no less devastating. It wasn’t like there was any pretending that part didn’t exist. Especially when it came back to haunt him in the dead of night.

Within weeks of dating you experienced the first of many night terrors. Knowing better than to wake him, he thrashed around like a palm tree in the midst of a hurricane while whimpering the names of faceless people you’d only ever hear of in his unconscious state; you helplessly waited it out by his side for that gasp of air, signaling his submergence from the past.

Would it ever go away, you didn’t think so, but found some sort of comfort in knowing he’d never wake up alone. At least not anymore. His panic-blown eyes would always find you with open arms, there to ground him to the present with soft reassurances that never failed to lull him back to sleep.

“You still not drinking coffee?” Javier pointed a half-eaten piece of bacon at your mug.

You set it down with a small thump. “Don’t remind me,” you groaned. “I miss it but - I don’t know. Something about the smell still makes me wanna gag.”

Javier smacked his lips, “I thought you were feeling better?” He studied you from top to bottom.

“I am,” you assured. His eyes went narrow and you sighed in defeat. “For the most part…but have ya ever thrown up on something and for awhile you can’t eat it without being reminded of how sick you were?”

Javier grunted, “Chicken wings.” He shuddered. “Still can’t touch ‘em.”

The experience must have scarred him because he promptly dropped the subject. Veering the conversation far away to your itinerary for the day then a back and forth of what sounded good for dinner.

Once finished, you gathered up the plates and dropped them in the sink. The scent of lemon coated the sponge as a small hum drifted around the room while you scrubbed at the sticky porcelain.

Like a silent predator, Javier snuck behind you. His large hands framing the arc of your hips, making you jump at the sudden collision of your back to a warm, broad chest.

He burrowed into the crevice of your neck and you giggled his name. The dishes clinking together in a forgotten heap as you swiveled around, looping your arms around his neck.

His smile was soft but not assuring. Brown eyes wandering a stray and searching the depth of your eyes for guidance as if they were crystal balls that could show him the way. It tugged at your heart and you wished for it to be so simple.

You teased down his hair then adjusted his tie. “Perfect,” you beamed with a pat to his chest. You handed him the suit jacket from off the counter. With a shrug, he fitted it just right over his broad shoulders. Very few people could pull off a tan suit but he was definitely one of them.

“Very handsome,” you said and grabbed at his tie, tugging him closer. “Ya know,” you whispered, “I think someone might be gettin’ lucky tonight.”

A pleased sound rumbled from deep in his chest as his grip on you tightened.

“Now that’s all I’ll be thinking about.” His husky voice tickled the shell of your ear.

“Hmm. Seems my plan is working,” you teased, then met his lips in a tender kiss.

His hands surged to cup your cheeks and you relinquished control to him. The peck instantly turned heated as his lips moved with a sheer determination to forget his troubles in your pliant body and supple mouth. The weight that burdened his shoulders poured into you and it lifted for a moment.

You were left gasping for air once he broke the kiss. The sound of your heavy breathing mingled in the space between you, his forehead resting against yours.

“I should get going,” he whispered after a long moment, but remained stuck in place as if you were glued together.

“I love you, ya know that right?”

He chuckled softly and grabbed your hand, guiding it to his lips and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

Javier left your embrace with a low groan that mimicked the one he made when getting out of bed in the morning. You followed close behind as he headed to leave. He swung his briefcase over his shoulder and you handed him his lunch on his way out the door.

“I’ll see ya tonight,” he said. You nodded and leaned against the solid wood frame. The fall air carried a chill in the morning and you wrapped your arms around you for warmth.

With one last glance, he waved goodbye before hopping in his jeep. The engine roared to life, and you watched until his car disappeared down the street. The brave smile you were sporting faded at the shut of the door.

The rest of the morning continued much like any other after that.

There was the usual morning traffic on your drive into work, luckily the commute was short, a perk of living just miles from downtown. Cordial, you greeted your coworkers with a smile on your way down the hall. Situated at the very end was your office.

It was quaint with tinted blue walls just a shade above sanitary white. A desk, bookshelf and two armchairs filled the space. A chunky computer plopped in the middle of your desk, taking up the majority of the area.

The morning was clicked away on the two-toned keyboard. Not a disruption to be had until lunch time when a small knock echoed on the glass pane wall overlooking the cubicles. Promptly followed by Amanda stepping in through the wide-open door.

“Hey,” she said in that high-pitched voice that meant she needed something. “Sorry to bother you, but uh - ya happen to have a tampon?” She flashed an oopsie grin; she was always bumming them off you, not that you cared.

“Yeah, I gotcha,” you said with feigned annoyance.

A few worthless items tussled around the metal confines of the bottom drawer when pulled open. The sealed box of tampons was situated right in front.

When did you buy those? You actually couldn’t remember.

Amanda pushed the small of her back against your desk and leaned in. “Not gonna lie I was startin’ to panic a little, three days late, but-” She swept her bangs like they were a bead of sweat with a whoosh of air.

You pushed out a half-hearted chuckle, trying to remember when your last period was.

It was as if all her worries were suddenly transferred to you, the tampon acting as a baton. She stuffed the wrapper into her pocket with an easy grin. “You’re the best,” she said before sauntering out the room.

Leaning back in your chair, a pen clutched between your teeth, you tried to think whether Amanda’s period came before or after yours.

Well, it had to be before.

Right?

A memory made your head tilt like a confused dog. Your eyes steadily growing wider and wider as you thought back on all those times when you’d been fresh out, instead offering her a quarter to buy a shitty cardboard one from the vending machine.

But wait. If she was late…

The chair wheels skirted along the carpet, your body shot up like a revved up engine. Busting open the top drawer, you slapped the planner down in front of you. The paper slicing your finger, staining the corner of the week red.

Sucking on it, you squeezed your eyes shut and sifted through your memories for when your last period was.

Your eyes snapped open - it was the weird one; you’d never had a period so short and light, hardly any cramping.

But if it was then.

“Shit. Shitshitshit,” you mumbled under your breath while flipping back through the beginnings of November which had been plagued with a stomach bug – past October where talks of the DEA preoccupied your mind all the way to September.

A soundless gasp parted your lips. You were late.

No – you counted the weeks. More than late.

You’d completely missed a period.

A wave of nausea – no, vomit slammed into you. You slapped a hand over your mouth and dashed to the bathroom. The stall door boomeranged against the wall as your knees collided against the cold tile.

Your spine curled over the toilet, the truth purged from you. This wasn’t a stomach bug, you were – oh shit. You gasped and gasped for air, “Fuck,” you hurled.

After a few seconds, only harsh panting echoed around the toilet bowl. You wiped away the stray tears on your cheeks and the spit dangling from the corner of your mouth.

The flush of the toilet roared as you slumped down, resting your lead-heavy head against the stall wall.

Could it be?

Were you pregnant?

---

“We hope to hear from you soon,” the silver-haired man said.

The undertone of impatience that slithered through the cracks of his grin made Javier’s plastered on smile falter. His nod coming as firm as his handshake.

He waved goodbye to the others and took another look at the building. It was just as he remembered in 1988 – 70’s modernism with big windows and cold, beige concrete walls. Yet when he walked out of the atrium, it didn’t feel the same at all.

With his hands shoved in his pockets, he headed off to his car. The door slammed shut behind him. He popped open the middle console immediately and rummaged through CDs, bypassing the loose sleeve of nicorettes for the red and white carton stashed at the bottom.

The slim stick perfectly slotted between his lips, and the familiar weight left his mouth watering. He clicked at the lighter, once – twice. Until it sizzled orange and sweet smoky relief consumed his lungs.

He’d given up the bad habit – for the most part – but there were certain situations where a nicorette just didn’t cut it.

The cigarette fell limp as he turned on the ignition, maneuvering out of the lot. When he arrived the sun had been proud in the sky. Now, street lights and neon signs lit up the near desolate streets. The meeting had run much longer than he expected.

If it weren’t for the repulsive amount of ass-kissing, he would’ve been home by now.

Home.

His eyes closed and he inhaled again.

The last thing Javier wanted was to reminisce on his ‘glory days’ but the endless prattling of expectations that followed wasn’t much better.

They talked of the plans for the future. A new branch in El Paso was to be up and running in a few months time, his duties consisting of running the division along with a few others along the Southernmost border of Texas – as they claimed, that’s where the real war was at.

The job honestly sounded similar to his role in Cali. He was the face, a person calling the moves but would it be like that again?

Was he just filling a role? A puppet in their game of rigged chess?

Javier took another long drag.

The politics of it all had always made his skin crawl and the man who was leading the charge oozed with the charisma of a corrupt senator. Silver-hair quaffed to the side, he spoke with the ease of a summer breeze yet his every word carried the chill of winter. The fellow colleagues were all equally invested, spewing the propaganda with conviction.

Courage.

Devotion.

Above all integrity.

Integrity, he scoffed while lighting up another cigarette.

He’d be the first to admit, he was far from perfect. He’d acted in ways he never would’ve imagined; bent the rules and compromised his ethics. And yes, it spiraled out of control and the consequences of it would forever horrify him but he could rest at least knowing it was never out of selfish ambition.

His decisions came from a state of pure desperation – after watching innocent people pay with their lives – years of injustice winning time and time again. It wasn’t to further some corrupt agenda based on greed and deceit.

Was he naive to have thought they were all on the same team – that the system had his back?

Was it credulous to think they cared about winning the war – not just pretending. He obviously knew others shared in his testament, Steve and Joe, along with countless others.

But that didn’t matter.

Not in the long run.

Not when the system backing all the efforts was compromised. Then he was just a pawn, a conflicting testament.

How he wished to go back to when he didn’t know, when he had believed – it would be so much easier.

Smoke flared out his nostrils; the cigarette flew through the crack in the window like a fly. He pulled into the driveway and his eyes fluttered shut, gaining the strength to gather his things from the passenger seat.

The soft yellow hue of the porch light guided him home.

A sweet, homey scent mingled with take-out Italian as he opened the door. His wife was standing in the kitchen with a gentle smile on her lips, he flew towards her. His briefcase thudded to the floor and his arms wrapped around her, the outside world seemingly disappeared in the familiarity.

She nuzzled into his neck; the stench of cigarettes incriminating him like a hickey. Yet, she said nothing of it and clung tighter to him.

“Hi baby.” The sweet whisper hit his ear and he hummed at it.

“Hi,” he said, “Sorry I’m late.” He kissed the side of her head, stepping back as his stomach rumbled.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for.” She smiled, but it didn’t come with the same ease as others in the past. Before he could think much of it, she popped open the microwave. “I put it in for a few seconds. I’ve already eaten but I’ll sit with ya.”

She insisted on carrying his plate to his seat then grabbing a beer for him. By the time she settled in next to him, he’d already scarfed down a quarter of the meal.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Javier swallowed and faintly shook his head. His thoughts were too cluttered and he needed time to process and sift through them. Funny. The whole ordeal was meant to offer clarity, but his brain was muddier than before.

“Later. Promise.”

The brittleness of his voice made her head tip to the side and hand squeeze at his forearm. The warmth of her palm was soothing. “How bout you tell me about your day,” he said not a moment later, needing a distraction.

Her back immediately straightened up as if remembering something. “Oh.” Her eyes rolled skyward, arms folded in front of her on the table, a mindless tap of her fingers against her elbow. “Um - well, I just got off the phone with your dad.”

“Yeah? What’d he have to say?” Javier took another bite.

“Oh, not much. Just - uh - wanted to know the plan for Thanksgiving.”

Javier’s chewing slowed. There was definitely something off about her. Her voice was a tad pitchy and she was fidgeting like a child at church. He’d thought it had something to do with his current predicament, but he realized there was more to it. Something else was causing her antsiness.

“Forgot that was next week,” he said, not giving away just yet that he’d caught on. He angled his body slightly towards her. “What about work? Any stories?” His gaze flickered around her, searching for non-verbal cues in a secret game of hot and cold.

She hemmed and hawed through trifling tidbits until he couldn’t take it anymore and firmly said her name. “Tell me what’s really going on,” he said once he had her full attention.

“Huh?” A look of feign confusion rounded her eyes.

His head ticked back and forth, “I know somethings up.” Her gaze plummeted to the table with a gulp that zapped the playfulness from his demeanor. Replacing it with a festering ball of anxiety. “Woah - hey. What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” she waved off like it was trivial but the slight tremble in her hand said otherwise. “Let’s talk about it later.”

Alarm bells started to ring. That wasn’t like her, she never held something in. She was the complete opposite of him in that regard.

“Why not now?”

“Cause, Javi.” His eyebrows probed for an elaboration and she huffed as if it was obvious. “You just got home, it’s been a long-”

His hand enveloped hers and her lips clipped together, meeting his gaze. A cloud of unmitigated suspense in her eyes.

“I don’t care what day I’ve had. Please, just tell me what’s goin’ on.”

She shot him a look that said, you sure about that? Before relenting moments later with a small bob of her head, pushing up on the table to stand on wobbly legs.

Her fingers drummed sporadically along her thigh as she dragged her feet to the kitchen.

“I was gonna wait to tell you,” she said with a hint of a smile that quelled his unease a fraction. “But I guess I wasn’t very good at hiding it, huh?”

He tilted his head with a lighthearted huff.

To his confusion, she opened the miscellaneous drawer full of things like scissors and receipts of major purchases to pull out a shiny, slender, white box.

If she wasn’t acting so nervous, he’d think she got him a gift, but whenever she surprised him with one in the past she was basically jumping out of her skin to give it to him.

He could practically hear the count of her steps; the slight shake of the box in her grasp. Stopping at the edge of the table, she handed it over and then immediately clasped her hands behind her back.

There was no hint of what laid inside. No label. Or wrapping. If she didn’t look so woozy, he would’ve shaken it.

Ticking the lid open, her breath caught and he checked in before continuing. Her blessing came in a fast nod.

Placing the lid on the table, he picked up the white, plastic stick. “What’s this?” He asked, squinting at the blue lines, a key on the side.

Pregnant. Not pregnant.

His head whipped up then right back down. Glancing between the fine print and a strong blue line, the smaller one while a tad faded, was ever present.

Was he seeing this right? He blinked and opened his eyes as far as they would go.

“I was gonna wait till you got home but then you were late and I just couldn’t take it anymore and I thought if I’m not then-”

“You’re pregnant?” He gazed up at her, his tongue darting out to wet his drying lips as his brow squeezed tight.

Her gaze fell to her wringing hands as she quickly jerked her head.

“And - and you’re sure?” He asked, inspecting the device front and back.

Pregnancy tests had come a long way since he’d last seen them; it honestly aged him. He’d basically used a chemistry set with Lorraine, seriously the thing had test tubes and droppers. This seemed far more reliable and generally foolproof; still, he’d experienced the elusive false positive.

Luckily, if that was the case, it wouldn’t lead to a shotgun wedding and a runaway groom.

“Well, I took two more just to be sure.” She swayed in the direction of the bathroom door where the other positive tests must’ve been stored away.

“Oh,” he breathed out, lips stuck in a small o-shape. The reality of it permeated his skull but had yet to fully sink into his brain.

He looked down once again at the test - specifically the word pregnant. It was happening. He was going to be - he gulped - a dad.

The word echoed around his shell-shocked brain; his heart began to hammer into his throat. He choked out a sound and his hand shot over his mouth.

He felt – actually he didn’t know how he felt.

With Lorraine, it was doom; a feeling of being completely stuck.

It was far from that feeling, but it was one he’d never experienced before. Was it fear? Panic? Disbelief? Perhaps excitement? Even joy? Was it possible to experience all the above at once?

He shook his head to clear his mind. It didn’t work.

“I know we didn’t really plan this,” She timidly said while twisting the band on her finger.

Javier blinked up at her, worry marring her face. “I’m - I’m not - I just - I.” His jaw clamped shut, the feeling was ineffable. So he instead reassured her by beckoning her to him; he turned to the side of the chair, making room for her between his thighs.

At eye-level with her belly, his hands smoothed over her hips and waist. He gazed up at her then back to her stomach to place a soft kiss before dropping his forehead atop it.

Her breath escaped soft and surprised; the sound of it was a punch to his gut. She raked her fingers through his hair as a warm smile parted her lips with a giggle.

He’d never seen her like this, she was glowing with happiness and his chest ached. The idea that she’d been so willing to give this up, this moment, any dreams of a child all because he meant more to her than any of it combined. Javier would never understand how he came to deserve her - how she could possibly love him so much.

Rising from his chair, Javier cradled the back of her neck and tilted her chin up. The soft light of the chandelier danced across her glossy eyes.

A saltiness simmered at the back of his throat, he swallowed it down but it seeped into his voice. “I love you,” he said and water brimmed in her eyes. “So much.” He kissed her forehead and the force of it had her steadying herself with the lapels of his jacket.

“You’re not upset.” She breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Of course not,” he said, “Are you?”

“No, no. Not at all.” She smiled so wide it looked like it hurt and he couldn’t help but return it.

Javier intently listened as she buzzed through all the details, the moment of realization and all the missed signs. The longer he stood there, the clearer it became and when she kissed him, a resolve warmed his chest.

“I’m not gonna take the job,” he said when he pulled away.

“Javi, no - no. I don’t want you to give this up because of this. Look at Joe and Steve.”

“It’s not that.” He shook his head and searched for the words.

Javier didn’t know how to tell her that when they talked about him traveling to El Paso or Presidio that all he could think about was how much he didn’t want to leave her - how he’d grown so used to coming home and falling asleep next to her.

He didn’t know how to tell her he enjoyed the peace. Maybe he really was getting old because the stillness had become more appealing than the life of a DEA agent. It no longer thrilled him; the sparkle had faded like a knockoff gemstone.

Javier finally believed the words he had once spoken, he had done enough. While the words were bittersweet, there was a sense of tranquility that came with them. A closure that came with knowing there was nothing left to give to the DEA – not without the price of losing himself.

Seemed his father was right, Javier had wanted to change the world, but it had changed him. The life he never imagined for himself was the one he was now choosing.

He was scared shitless, but as he looked at his wife, he knew it would be alright.

“It’s not the life I want anymore,” Javier finally said, and he meant it.

#javier peña x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #javier peña fanfiction #narcos fanfic #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier peña x ofc

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inflamearc · 1 year

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initially when i started writing laura, my main course of action was Get Her Out Of Twin Pea/ks --- because at the time neither i nor dana NOR syd could really see a way for her to be home AND safe AND [reasonably] happy. i knew she'd be homesick forever but i just did not trust anyone with her at that time. she was faking her death and dana's audrey and syd's coop were gonna be the only people who knew. i still like a lot of the writing we did then, and i still value the dynamics fostered during that period, but the longer i write her, the more i know laura doesn't truly work anywhere else: not because it's all she's ever known, or because her mom is there, but just because for better and for worse, the town is so much a part of her And She Loves It So Much.

sure, she fantasizes about leaving in her diary sometimes --- one, that's just how growing up in a small town is, and two, she's got a lot of immediate danger to run away from --- and i do want her to get out, travel, Experience Life, See Things, but i know she'd always want to come home. she likes being a big fish in a small pond. she likes that everybody knows her and that she knows everybody. she likes the routine in always knowing where she's going to eat and shop and party. she likes that she knows where everybody's at, even the elderly mostly-strangers on her meals on wheels route.

she doesn't like being out of control of what people know about her --- that's always been an issue (obviously) --- but the thing about laura that you should understand, that i should have understood much earlier, is that she won't back down from a fight, ever (i do not mean physically, okay; physically she's going to talk shit and get hit, but METAPHORICALLY,).

(we're going to cut this because 1. it's already long and 2. i'm about to get to the part that you may or may not want to opt out of, i.e. the aftermath of fire wal/k with m/e --- nothing graphic, ever, but frankness is my only real way, so.)

like, yeah, it's going to be fucking awful. the news will be tactful --- as it probably was in canon, officially, with her dead --- but everybody's still going to know. and beyond the news, there's the rumor mill, and while it's not like anyone has All The Answers, what they're dealing with is "local man commits suicide in police custody following the rape and attempted murder of his daughter", so it's safe to assume there are going to be a lot of solid guesses. and she's still going to be processing the events themselves and having just admitted to herself that her dad ever was her [primary] abuser to begin with. and then dana and i are letting audrey out ben as the other and he's going to die, too :-) which is great news, but is also yet another Thing To Whisper About :-)

but laura is a proud, proud little person. she is also a very spiteful little person. she'd appreciate it if you'd just [daxna vc] be normal, or at least upfront, but she's not her mother: she pays attention, and if you make her feel weird about continuing to Exist In Society, she's going to call you out. if she feels like you've got something to say to her but you're Being Polite, she might say it for you. it would not be accurate to say she doesn't care: she cares a lot! she hates the thought of not being accepted! it's something she's always struggled with! she will probably cry about it! but not until she's alone and has embarrassed you so incredibly badly that you will, hopefully, consider becoming a hermit yourself. this is her non-city. her home. she's not going to be humbled and she's not going to transform into someone new because of what's supposedly been taken from her. she is incapable of making herself small.

she's a lot to deal with. she's always been a lot to deal with. knowing What She's Been Through (or thinking that you do) might give you some context to better understand her, if you know her, but it's not going to change much, unless you end up in one of the prior camps. without the constant threat of danger, she's bound to be less volatile, and if you react to The News in a way that's encouraging and not patronizing, she is bound to handle you with more tenderness, but otherwise she's largely just ... laura. she is miserable, she's ecstatic, she's full of love and righteous anger, she's stubborn, she's brash, she's sullen, she's kind, she's unfortunately never recovered from being the weird horse girl in your fourth grade class and it has never once even occurred to her that she would be made fun of like this.

she is so annoying. and she is also the best girl in the world. and also, i wish i didn't feel i have to say most of these things? it's not because i assume You, The Mutual don't intuit them: if i felt that way about you, you wouldn't be here. but i also know, incredibly well, that if i don't state my intentions very clearly regarding arcs, they might get muddled and they might be misunderstood. i do not like angst for angst's sake. i am not here to make myself sad. i am here to do justice to laura, which means dealing with a lot of misery, but my end goal will always be to let her live her life without shame and with, well, i guess a manageable amount of fear. i would like for her to be defined by and remembered for the person she actually is, or was, or whatever the fuck.

#rape m //#ask to tag.#incest m //#study.

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cyarskaren52 · 3 months

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vimeo

Grammys 2020 recap: Billie Eilish wins big, Demi Lovato moved to tears and Alicia Keys honors Kobe Bryant

Billie Eilish won five awards.

via

January 27, 2020, 12:15 AM ET

• 8 min read

This is the story of Kobe Bryant’s life Kobe Bryant, 41, and his daughter Gianna, 13, were killed in helicopter crash.Matt Sayles/Invision/AP Photo

The 2020 Grammy Awards were a somewhat somber occasion this year, taking place at the Staples Center in Los Angeles just hours after L.A. Lakers legend Kobe Bryant died in a helicopter crash.

Bryant and his 13-year-old daughter, Gianna, were among the nine victims who died in a crash that took place in Calabasas, Calif. on Sunday morning.

While many musicians remarked on the red carpet that the tragedy made "music's biggest night" bittersweet, the show did have moments of levity.

In the end, the night belonged to Billie Eilish, who spent about as much time on stage as host Alicia Keys.

Here's a recap of the ceremony's most talked-about moments.

1. Kobe Bryant is honored at the top of the show: After many stars memorialized to Bryant on the red carpet, Lizzo kicked off the 2020 Grammys by announcing, "Tonight is for Kobe," and host Alicia Keys paid tribute to the NBA star in her monologue.

"We're literally standing here, heartbroken, in the house that Kobe Bryant built," Keys said. "Right now, Kobe and his daughter Gianna and all of those that have been tragically lost today are in our spirit, and our hearts and our prayers."

Keys asked the crowd to take a moment to remember Bryant, and was joined on stage by Boyz II Men to sing their hit, "It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday."

"We wanted to do something that could describe, a tiny bit, how we all feel right now," she explained. "We never imagined in a million years we'd have to start the show like this."

2. Stars remember Prince and Nipsey Hussle:It's been almost four years since Prince died, and to honor the late singer, Usher, FKA Twigs and Prince's longtime collaborator Sheila E. took the stage for a performance of the late singer's hits "Little Red Corvette," "When Doves Cry" and "Kiss."

Later in the show, Nipsey Hussle, who was fatally shot in Los Angeles last March, was remembered in a tribute by Meek Mill, Roddy Rich, John Legend, DJ Khaled, Kirk Franklin and YG. At the end of DJ Khaled's song, "Higher," on which Hussle was featured, the late rapper's photo, along with Bryant's, was shown. "Higher" later won the award for best rap song, and Khaled dedicated the honor to Hussle.

"We all love him, we all miss him," Legend added.

3. Performances from every genre rock the Staples Center: For many, the biggest reason to tune in to the Grammys is to watch the performances, and this year, they didn't disappoint.

Lizzo started the show by belting out "Cuz I Love You" and "Truth Hurts," followed by real-life couple Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani singing "Nobody But You."

The Jonas Brothers serenaded the crowd with "Five More Minutes" and "What's a Man Gotta Do," and then Tyler, the Creator performed "Earfquake" and "New Magic Wand" with Boyz II Men and Charlie Wilson.

Later, Lil Nas X and Billy Ray Cyrus brought down the house with their hit "Old Town Road," along with BTS, Mason Ramsey, Diplo, Young Thug and Nas. Ariana Grande sang "Imagine," "7 Rings" and "Thank U, Next," and Demi Lovato moved viewers with her emotional new song, "Anyone."

Other performers included Camila Cabello, Tanya Tucker, Rosalia, H.E.R., and Gary Clark Jr., among others.

4. Demi Lovato returns to the stage: Just before her overdose in the summer of 2018, Demi Lovato wrote a song called "Anyone," which she recently described as a "cry for help." The 27-year-old singer took the stage at the Grammysfor her first performance since her hospitalization, delivering an emotional performance that brought her to tears.

"Anyone, please send me anyone. Lord, is there anyone? I need someone," she sang.

The crowd gave her a standing ovation.

5. Billie Eilish wins big: At just 18, Billie Eilish has accomplished things most musicians can only dream of. The singer picked up five of the six Grammys for which she was nominated on Sunday, including best new artist, album of the year for "When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?" and song of the year and record of the year for "Bad Guy."

In her acceptance speech for record of the year, Eilish said she thought Ariana Grande deserved the honor, and she laughed when she picked up album of the year.

"Thank you," she said, simply.

Sent from my iPhone

#Vimeo

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

Text

“I really, really love you, but I also wanna hit you with a chair!" Nattie x Super Soldier Reader

confusinggemini612 asked:

Hey, I love your work & saw your post about your requests being open so could you please do a Natasha x Super Soldier Reader? Along with the prompt quote "I really, really love you, but I also wanna hit you with a chair" with Nat preferably saying it. Thanks

Natasha Romanoff is in her shared kitchen and is trying to reach something (Y/n) had put away on the top shelf in one of the cabinets.

(Y/n) walks inside her home and leans against the door frame of the kitchen. The 6'5" woman holds in her laughter, the bags of groceries in her hand.

She walks into the kitchen, setting the ten-ish bags on the island.

"Hey there, Tasha?" (Y/n) asks, and Natasha turns, looking at her girlfriend. "You need help?" she asks, reaching up and grabbing exactly what the redhead had been trying to reach effortlessly, and handing it to her girlfriend.

Natasha grumbles something and (Y/n) chuckles, her (E/c) gaze dancing with amusement.

"What do you want to do later?" (Y/n) asks, starting a pot of water to boil on the stove.

"I dunno," Natasha says, and then she leans against (Y/n), her head resting against (Y/n)'s shoulder. (Y/n) snakes an arm around her girlfriend's waist, her muscles flexing as her arm bends.

"Wanna watch a movie later?" (Y/n) asks.

"That sounds nice," Natasha says, moving as (Y/n) goes to put the groceries away.

"I'll make sure to leave them down on the lower shelf so you can reach them," (Y/n) says cheekily.

Natasha groans in exasperation but does wrap her arms around her girlfriend's waist as (Y/n) returns to her place in front of the stove; the redhead resting her cheek against (Y/n)'s back.

(Y/n) and Natasha get into bed a little after dinner.

Natasha is scrolling through Netflix and (Y/n) snuggles closer to the redhead, letting her head rest in Natasha's lap.

"You're like a big cat," Natasha comments, letting her fingers brush through (Y/n)'s hair.

"At least this cat can reach the top shelf in the cabinets," (Y/n) teases and Natasha hits her lightly on the head.

"You're lucky I love you," Natasha grumbles, setting the remote beside her.

(Y/n) smiles softly as she sits up. She kisses the side of Natasha's head and the redhead leans into (Y/n)'s side, her head resting on (Y/n)'s shoulder.

"I love you more," (Y/n) murmurs into Natasha's hair as the redhead falls asleep.

The next morning, (Y/n) is walking sleepily into the kitchen. She stumbles over to the stove and pulls out a pan to start breakfast.

(Y/n) turns on the radio, singing along to the songs as the bacon grease pops in the pan.

Natasha leans against the doorframe of the kitchen, watching her super-soldier girlfriend looking so carefree - sleepily singing to the music, and making breakfast.

Natasha silently walks over and sits at the island on one of the barstools.

(Y/n) puts the bacon on a plate with some toast and eggs and turns. (Y/n) smiles sleepily at Natasha, setting the plate in front of the redhead.

"Mornin'," (Y/n) says softly.

Natasha chuckles at (Y/n)'s sleepiness and waits for (Y/n) to sit down beside her to start eating.

(Y/n) is silent for a while and Natasha remains silent, knowing (Y/n) was going to tell her what was on her mind. She always did.

"We should get a cat," (Y/n) says later as the two are sitting in the living room.

"Hmm," Natasha responds.

"Did you hear what I said?" (Y/n) asks, turning to the redhead sitting beside her.

"Of course I did," Natasha says, her eyes alight with amusement. "That's why I responded.

"Oh," (Y/n) says, blinking stupidly and Natasha does laugh.

"I really, really love you, but I also wanna hit you with a chair," Natasha says and (Y/n) looks at the redhead quizzically.

"That literally makes no sense," (Y/n) grumbles, crossing her arms.

"That's the point," Natasha says.

"That -" (Y/n) cuts herself off. "Nevermind."

"Should we go look for cats now?" Natasha asks, nudging her girlfriend lovingly.

(Y/n) perks up and nods. "Yeah, yeah, let's go!"

(Y/n) jumps up from the couch, grabbing Natasha's hand and pulling her up from the couch.

"Love, you're not dressed yet," Natasha says, and (Y/n) smiles sheepishly.

A little later, Natasha and (Y/n) arrive at the Animal Shelter.

"My lady," (Y/n) says, opening the car door and offering Natasha her hand.

Natasha's eyes scrunch cutely as she smiles, taking (Y/n)'s hand.

"Still wanna hit me with that chair?" (Y/n) asks, her eyes glinting with amusement.

"Oh, absolutely," Natasha says with a breath of laughter.

(Y/n) laughs and opens the door and the two are immediately met with the sound of barking dogs and meowing cats.

"Hello, how can I help you?" asks the woman at the front counter.

"We were wanting to adopt a cat," (Y/n) answers.

The woman nods and stands up from behind the counter.

She leads the two into a door and (Y/n) grins, seeing all the cats and kittens milling together in their cages.

One kitten seems to be interested in the door because she pokes her little paws through the bars.

"Aww, look at her!" (Y/n) says, moving over to study the little kitten.

"Looks like Liho likes the two of you," the animal shelter worker says.

Natasha laughs. "You guys know what Liho means?" she asks, moving over pet the little kitten's paws. "Misfortune."

"She's a sweetheart!" (Y/n) says, her (E/c) gaze softening as she looks at the kitten.

The animal shelter worker laughs and opens the cage, letting Liho out.

The kitten jumps into (Y/n)'s arms, the little black-and-white kitten looking tiny in (Y/n)'s arms.

Natasha pets the kitten's head.

"I love her," (Y/n) says, looking up from the kitten, meeting Natasha's gaze.

"We'll take her," Natasha says, meeting the animal shelter worker's eyes, and the woman nods.

The little cat remains in (Y/n)'s arms as the three walk back outside into the main office.

Natasha pays the adoption fee as (Y/n) coos over the small kitten in her arms.

The two - now three - return home a little later. (Y/n) gently sits down Liho before stepping back outside to help Natasha bring in the things for Liho - cat litter, cat food, a cat bed, and cat toys.

Liho scampers around the home looking at everything. When she hears the door open, she bounds back over to the door.

She lets out a soft meow and she reaches up, placing her paws on Natasha's shins.

Natasha's eyes crinkle up again as she smiles.

"You're so cute," (Y/n) says setting the cat litter by the door.

"Me? Or Liho?" Natasha asks, picking up the kitten.

"Can't it be both?" (Y/n) asks, moving over and kissing Natasha before petting Liho on the head.

"Seriously still wanna hit you with that chair," Natasha says, her green eyes glittering, and then (Y/n) just laughs.

Word Count: 1105 words

I was going to have this prompt used after a mission, but I thought this was a lot cuter and SoFt as all heck.

Taglist:

@mariawilson24

@just-dreaming-marvel

@marsromanoff

@procrastinatingsapphictrash

@theofficialzivadavid

@chickenhavewisdom

@fayharper

@acertainredhead

@capsicle118

@1-danid

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reaer #natasha romanoff x fem reader #avengers x reader #liho

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kjack89 · 4 years

Text

AITA

My bestie’s latest quarantine hobby is trolling through AITA on reddit and sending me ones she thinks will make me mad, so. I got inspired.

E/R, modern AU.

The sun was bright and the mood, all things considered, was high, as the crowd gathered by the river in preparation for the march downtown to call for defunding the police. Black Lives Matter was leading the protest, and Enjolras had volunteered Les Amis to serve as support and allies in whatever way they could, which mostly meant making sure folks were wearing masks and that no one decided to try something stupid with the cops.

“Good crowd,” Courfeyrac remarked, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet as he glanced around before looking back at Enjolras. “As much as I’m sure it’s killing you that they’re only calling for defunding and not abolition.”

“Yeah, well, not even a year ago, no one was talking about defunding the police,” Enjolras pointed out, a little sourly, adjusting his mask, which was emblazoned with WHITE SILENCE IS VIOLENCE. “I’ll take what progress I can get.”

Courfeyrac smirked. “You sound practically moderate.”

Enjolras scowled. “Take that back, or—”

His threat was cut off by the arrival of Joly, Bossuet and Grantaire. It was hard to tell by the masks all three wore, but Enjolras was pretty sure that all three were grinning, and judging by the way Bossuet was swaying, just slightly, it wasn’t just because they were in a good mood.

“I’ll take it you three decided to hit up a brunch spot on your way here?” Enjolras asked, even more sourly than before.

“A man has to eat,” Joly said innocently, which would have gone over much more believably had he not giggled at the end.

“Besides, we only ordered one drink,” Bossuet assured him.

Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess,” he said dryly, “you each ordered a bottomless mimosa.” He didn’t wait for any of them to confirm it. “And how many refills of said drink did you also order?”

Joly and Bossuet looked at each other and laughed, and Grantaire pulled his mask down to grin lazily at Enjolras. “Let me put it this way,” he said, “more than one and less than ten.” He paused. “Probably. I did lose track after about seven.”

Snickering, Joly and Bossuet headed over to join the rest of Les Amis, but when Grantaire made to follow, Enjolras blocked him, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “You’re drunk,” he said accusingly, and Grantaire’s grinned widened.

“Well, I’m sure as shit not sober.”

“Put your mask back on,” Enjolras ordered, less concerned for himself, as Grantaire was part of his quarantine bubble, and more for everyone else milling around before the march started. Especially any journalists who might love to get a shot of BLM protesters breaking the mask mandate. “And go home, Grantaire.”

Grantaire slowly pulled his mask back up over his mouth and nose, smoothing it into place before looking at Enjolras plaintively, all trace of humor vanishing from his expression. “Let me stay here,” he said, his voice soft, and not just from the cotton that covered his mouth.

Enjolras shook his head, well aware that even if Grantaire might suddenly sound sober, he wasn’t. “Go home,” he repeated. “The last thing we need is your drunk ass picking a fight with the cops or something worse and turning this whole thing into a riot instead of the peaceful protest its organizers intended.”

“What, you think I’m incapable of going two or three hours without starting a brawl?” Grantaire asked, incredulous.

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “I think you’re incapable of a great many things.”

Grantaire’s lip curled. “Like believing, thinking, willing, living and dying?”

“Only you seem to think you’re incapable of dying,” Enjolras said quietly, before repeating, one more time, “Go home.”

But Grantaire shook his head, taking a step toward him. “If you’re so worried about it, then send Bahorel home, too!” he insisted. “Send home Joly and Bossuet who are just as drunk as I am. Or else let me stay.”

“No.”

Enjolras said the word calmly, but Grantaire recoiled as if he had shorted. “And why not?”

“Because I trust them!” Enjolras burst, his temper getting the better of him, and he scrubbed a hand across his face before adding, what he hoped was a calmer way, “I trust them to actually listen to my instructions and keep themselves out of trouble.”

But something in Grantaire’s face clouded as soon as Enjolras had said that he trusted them, and Enjolras had a bad feeling that he hadn’t really listened to the last part. “Right,” Grantaire said, a little dully, already turning away. “Well. I’ll see you later, I guess.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras sighed, reaching out to catch his arm, but Grantaire shrugged him off, wandering towards the river, the hunch of his shoulders the only indication that he had any care in the world. Enjolras stared after him for a long moment, his expression troubled.

----------

Four days later, Grantaire rolled over in bed when his phone buzzed. He picked it up off his nightstand, saw that it was a text from Enjolras, and immediately tossed it down again, groaning.

He hadn’t talked to Enjolras since that morning of the BLM protest, and at this rate, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to. Not when he knew that Enjolras didn’t trust him.

Joly would tell him he was being dramatic, and Bossuet would tell him to just text Enjolras and apologize and move on, and since Grantaire wanted to hear neither of those things, he also wasn’t talking to Joly or Bossuet.

Instead, he rolled over onto his stomach, grabbing his phone and stubbornly ignoring the text message from Enjolras still sitting, unread, in his messages. Instead, he clicked on twitter, figuring if he was going to sulk, he might as well sulk while reading about someone else’s misery.

A half hour later, Grantaire had scrolled through what felt like half of twitter before he stumbled upon a random tweet that linked to an ‘Am I the Asshole?’ post on the subreddit of the same name, and he glanced at the clock before deciding he had enough time to waste a couple of hours on a whole new level of misery.

He might’ve kept scrolling for hours, when he stumbled upon an AITA post that was surprisingly familiar.

Suspiciously familiar.

Like he had lived it.

He hesitated for only a moment before clicking on the post.

Posted by u/RadianceoftheFuture 8 hours ago AITA for kicking my friend out of a protest?

So I (25M) was attending a BLM protest the other day with the social justice organization I run. One of my friends, who we’ll call ‘R” (28M), showed up drunk and, IMO, looking to start a fight. This was the last thing I wanted, since we were there to be good allies, and starting fights or inciting a riot as white folks who will get away with it ain’t it. So naturally, I told him to go home.

Now here’s where I may be the asshole. R started arguing with me, and pointed out that some our other friends who were also there were also drunk, and one of our other friends who was there has a history of starting fights, so he asked me why I wasn’t making them leave. I told him it was because I trusted them.

Which is true, but not exactly how I wanted to word it, and I could tell that he was hurt by the implication that I didn’t trust him. And I do trust him, but I also didn’t want to spend the entire time worried about him. Anyway, he left, and he hasn’t talked to me since. If I’m the asshole, I want to apologize so that we can go back to being friends, and even if I wasn’t, I still want to figure out a way for us to talk again. I miss him. So tell me, AITA?

Grantaire stared at his phone, torn between something warm spreading in his chest at the fact that Enjolras cared enough to ask anonymous strangers on the internet about this, and freaking out because Enjolras had posted about their disagreement on the internet.

The man had only two speeds, it seemed, and somehow, Grantaire always ended up dealing with Enjolras on the highest speed.

Numbly, and mostly in an attempt to gather his thoughts, Grantaire scrolled through the comments on the post, unsurprised to see a decent mix of judgements from the redditors. More than expected YTAs (you’re the asshole), plus a number of NTAs (not the asshole), and, predominantly, a smattering of NAH (no assholes here).

Halfway down the page, he paused, realizing that the person who had written the post had responded to a question.

u/oldcoats_oldfriends - 7 hours ago INFO: why do you trust your other friends and not R?

u/RadianceoftheFuture - 6 hours ago Because R has a history of getting himself in trouble, whether by running his mouth off when he shouldn’t or picking fights with guys twice his side, and the trouble he gets into tends to happen after he’s been drinking. So when you put the two together, I was worried he’d do something stupid and get himself locked up or worse. And since keeping an eye on the rest of the protest was important, I knew I couldn’t afford to be distracted by also keeping an eye on him.

And for the record, I trust R with a lot. He’s not as ideological as a lot of us, doesn’t even have a lot of the same beliefs, but I know he would never do anything to hurt the cause, or me. Of course, he might not HELP the Cause, or me, but still. I’ve never once doubted that R would take a bullet for me, if it came to that. I would just never in a million years want him to.

Grantaire swallowed, hard. Of course he would take a bullet for Enjolras, or more, but it had never occurred to him that knowing that might make Enjolras worried. Worried that Grantaire would do something stupid.

If only the man knew that Grantaire worried about Enjolras in exactly the same way.

Hesitating for only a moment, he decided to leave a comment of his own.

u/MyFullGlass1832 - 1 minute ago NAH. Sure your friend shouldn’t have been drunk and you were right to kick him out, but drinking doesn’t make him an asshole (though not talking to you might). I am curious why you would have been worried about him. He’s a grown man and not your responsibility.

He quickly closed out of reddit, not wanting to do something stupid and refresh until Enjolras responded, but he only half-paid attention to the tweets he scrolled past, glancing at the clock to see if it was still pathetic for him to check for a response.

But to his shock, when he finally gave in and checked forty-five minutes later, Enjolras had answered, and something in Grantaire’s stomach twisted to know that he was still checking the thread, still seeking a resolution.

u/RadianceoftheFuture - 39 minutes ago Maybe ‘worried about’ is the wrong term, but he’s my friend. I didn’t want him to get hurt, or worse, because he was drunk. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten hurt on my watch, and everytime it happens, it’s awful. And not just because he won’t shut up about it for the next six months - I always feel so guilty, like I should’ve been protecting him. I know that’s not realistic, so the very least I can do is send him home when I think he’s liable to hurt himself. That way I can sleep at night knowing I did what I could.

The breath caught in Grantaire’s throat, and his chest felt tight, especially as he read the follow up comments.

u/valiant.artisan - 34 minutes ago INFO: Are you and R gay?

u/tremble_b4apoppy - 26 minutes ago Dude you may be in love with R.

u/timidinrepose - 21 minutes ago OMG this is the sweetest thing I’ve read all day.

u/Lymantria_dispar - 12 minutes ago. Pretty sure this might go a little beyond just friendship. Either way, I’m glad you care about your friend, and even though you weren’t TA, you should call him and explain why you told him to go home.

Grantaire couldn’t seem to stop his stupid smile as he stared at the computer, and this time, he didn’t hesitate, opening his text chain with Enjolras without reading any of Enjolras’s previous texts. He didn’t need to read them know.

NTA.

He sent the text and held his breath, wondering if Enjolras would acknowledge it, immediately, or try to play it cool. His one word answer indicate the former: Sorry?

But Grantaire wasn’t nearly as willing to play it coy. Not anymore. Your AITA post. I’m giving you my judgment. NTA.

In his mind, he could see Enjolras blush, that same way he did when he was frustrated, two spots of color rising high in his cheek as he stared at Grantaire. You saw that?

Even in his mind, it was a beautiful sight. Yeah

Then you should know, I agree with the majority opinion.

The image of Enjolras blushing disappeared, leaving Grantaire blinking at his phone, his brow furrowed as he tried to think of what the majority option would have been. Oh?

NAH.

Grantaire grinned, but before he could respond, Enjolras texted, Want to come over? I think I owe you an explanation in person.

I thought you’d never ask.

----------

u/ RadianceoftheFuture - 45 minutes ago UPDATE: AITA for kicking my friend out of a protest?

(Original.)

Thank you all very much for your feedback in the original post. There were a variety of perspectives on this, but some of the comments on the original post made me realize that I may in fact feel something more than friendship towards R, and it’s a good thing I figured it out, because he found the post, and even commented on it without me knowing! Anyway, we talked, I explained how I felt, and it turns out R’s had a thing for me pretty much since he’s known me. Anyway, we’re dating now, and while this isn’t exactly going to solve my problem of worrying about him, I also think he’ll be on somewhat better behavior now. For my sake at least.

We still have a lot to work on together, but we’re moving in the right direction. And to think, I probably never would’ve figured it out if it weren’t for reddit, of all the websites.

u/MyFullGlass1832 - 3 minutes ago WIBTA for hijacking my boyfriend’s reddit post to tell him that I love him?

u/ RadianceoftheFuture - 2 minutes ago YTA for sitting literally two feet away from me and responding to a reddit post when we could be doing something far more exciting.

u/MyFullGlass1832 - 1 minute ago ...good point.

#enjolras x grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #reddit au #that pained me to type #anyway #developing relationship

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lilydalexf · 4 years

Photo

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Elizabeth Rowandale

Elizabeth Rowandale has 16 stories at Gossamer spanning from 1995 to 2012, plus she has more at AO3 (other fandoms too). She's been giftng the fandom with stories for a long time! I've talked about some of my favorites of her stories before, including Hallways and Water's Edge. Big thanks to Elizabeth for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no. When I find myself suddenly caught up in a fandom that has already lived its glory days (which happens a lot, I'm habitually late to the party), I am always ravenous for fic written during the original run - it always has a different perspective and voice and it's like a little bit of the experience captured in time -- so I can understand how others would be interested in my past. That said, some of my early stuff is pretty awful. LOL. I have left it online for two reasons: 1. Nostalgia, 2. I know there are some fics I've read in my life that may not have been the best written in a literary sense, but just had something magical about them that fed exactly what I needed. And I would hate it if the author took down that work and I could never find it again (which has happened). So I try to respect that same sentiment should it appear in one of my readers. I'd say by about 6th or 7th season of the original run, my work became presentable. :) My largest X-Files work ("Water's Edge") was begun during the original run and completed about a year after the show ended. That one I definitely still claim as my work, even though there's certainly stuff I would fix if I were writing it now.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

So many things! Let's start with my husband. :D I met the love of my life on the X-Files newsgroup in spring of 1995. We were married a year later, and we are still married 24 years later and have a 20 year old daughter. One of the most important friendships of my life came from being part of this fandom - she began as an "Edgehead" during the original posting of "Water's Edge". The fandom brought me my family, friends, and made me believe in myself as a writer and, in some ways, as a person worth being friends with, for the first time in my life. It's kind of crazy, really, how different my life would be without it. The experience was not without its flaws. There was a lot of judgementalism, a lot of cliquishness, a lot of snobbery. I was condemned almost as much as I was welcomed. But in the end it was all worth the life experience.

As far as the fic itself, X-Files was my first real experience with fanfic, and it thoroughly spoiled me for all other fandoms forever, because the sheer VOLUME of professional quality work being put out there was mind-boggling. I expected all fandoms to be like this, and the fact is this is extremely rare and precious. I think I could read X-Files fic for the rest of my life and never run out of pieces worth reading.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I started out primarily on a.t.x.c.. Then progressed to mailing lists (especially Scullyfic/E-muse!), and later was very involved on The Haven. The Haven was quite a magical experience.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

I think I answered this by over-babbling on the question above. :D But ultimately, I think I would have to say my belief in literature as a tool to connect people on an intimate level that almost nothing else can. To give people a brief moment of sharing their precious internal worlds and inviting someone else to step into it with them.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

Really, it was inevitable. It has all the classic tropes that have always spoken to me - Supernatural horror, law enforcement partners, partner UST, misfits as heroes, haunting soundtrack. But amusingly enough, my first impression of it was negative. My mother and I had been religiously watching "Sightings", a FOX reality show (before "reality shows" were a thing) on the supernatural. Then that got cancelled and they replaced it with some show that was about fictionalized encounters with and investigations of the paranormal. And we were like WTF we don't want that, we want real investigations and evidence! So I didn't watch it out of protest. :D Then one night I stumbled upon it when I had nothing to do and watched "Lazarus". I thought the show was okay, but that I could never really get invested in it because there was no real chemistry between Mulder and Scully (yes, you can laugh me out of the room now :D). But the thing is, you can't FIND the significant moments in that episode unless you're already embroiled in their world. Like when Mulder calls her "Dana" on the phone and we all know he's panicking big time -- this was my first episode, so I assumed he always called her Dana, no big. Some time passed, then I saw Conduit. And Tooms. And I started to get really sucked in. Then I saw Genderbender. Now, if you know me at all, you know since I was about 6 years old, my life has revolved around my current muse. I get obsessed with a certain actress/performer/character, and that becomes my lens for the whole world (yes, at 6 it was Lynda Carter as Diana Prince). I have always moved from one Muse to the next, and the few times I've been without a focus person I'm very untethered and unproductive. So, I'd been in one of my longest dry spells following my Madonna and Vivien Leigh obsessions, mostly focusing on reading Dean Koontz books, when X-Files came along. And this obsession was unique in that I can actually pinpoint the moment I fell. I was sitting in my bedroom watching Genderbender, and they were outside the general store and Scully had just been touched by Brother Andrew and was a little tripped out and staring after the horse and cart when Mulder stepped up to see if she was okay, and...I actually felt myself falling for Gillian Anderson. And there was this moment of both elation and bittersweetness, because I knew how all-consuming my obsessions could be and the emotional rollercoaster they could entail (especially when I was younger, I'm a little better armored now :)). But I have no control over when and where they hit. But I knew by the end of that episode that I was off on another wild ride of the muse. :)

So, the short answer is -- Gillian Anderson. :D

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

Truthfully, I can't experience anything without writing fanfic in my head. I've been doing it in one form or another my whole life, I just didn't know until the X-Files (and the internet) how many other people were like me!! I started writing X-Files fic before I was even online. In fact, The X-Files was the reason I got my first internet service - because the fandom was moving online and I didn't want to miss out. I read my first fanfic in the Unofficial X-Files Fanclub monthly zine and it fascinated me. I wrote my first X-Files fic, a first season story called "Silent Lines", before I had ever been on the internet, and I had it published in that same fanclub newsletter. (I was already writing original fiction, hoping to make writing my career). Later, after I had joined the internet XF community, I wrote a post-ep to "Irresistible" that I posted online. That was my first online fic. Some time after (and a few more fics down the road) when all the rights to "Silent Lines" had reverted to me, I posted that online as well.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I dabble now and then. :) When the reboot came about, I came back to the old stomping grounds and reconnected with some of the Old Guard. I still have a fair amount of pretty Mulder and Scully on my Twitter feed, and I continue to follow all Gillian Anderson's new projects. But it's not my primary focus at the moment. (My serial monogamist muse has another lover this year. :))

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Several (Stargate, Sanctuary, Xena, Battlestar Galactica, Once Upon a Time, etc.). As I mentioned before, almost none of them had anywhere NEAR the quality and quantity of fanfic The X-Files has to offer. The closest I experienced was the Xena fandom. There are some AMAZING Uber fics and Conqueror fics, many of which went on to be published as original novels. Some fandoms were colder and more cruel than The X-Files. Some were warmer and more generous. I was most prolific during my years in the Stargate fandom. I wrote something like 80 fics. It was crazy. I don't think I'll ever be that prolific again.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Just from anything? From television Dana Scully, Stella Gibson, Laura Roslin, Sharon Raydor, Regina Mills. I love powerful women with scars. Kind women at heart who will fight for what they believe in and whom they love. Mothers - whether in actuality or at heart. I love women who prove strength and power can be completely synonymous with femininity.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

A couple of months ago my husband and daughter and I finished a complete X-Files rewatch (original series and movies), taking our daughter through it for the first time. It was awesome to re-experience it all through her eyes. She grew up hearing about it, but had never seen more than a handful of episodes (and, sadly, the reboot LOL).

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

Every now and then I indulge in X-Files fic, yes. Sometimes new stuff, most often revisiting old favorites.

I definitely read in my current fandoms. For a few years I didn't, but lately I've been at it again. Right now my primary muse is Mary McDonnell, so I'm obsessing over her various roles through the years. Been reading fic for "Major Crimes", "Dances with Wolves", "Battlstar Galactica", "Passion Fish", and "ER" (specifically pertaining to Eleanor Carter).

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Of course. :) Mish's "No Quarter Given" will always own my soul. [Lilydale note: It’s a 3-part story: 1, 2, 3.] "Black Hole Season" by Penumbra, "Above Rubies" by Rachel Howard, "Blinded by White Light" by DashaK, "Sounds of Silence" by GirlGone, "Blood Oranges" by Syntax6, "Absolute Zero" and "Never Enough" by August. So many more.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

From X-Files, I can't really choose between "Water's Edge" which took the most out of me) and "Bridges" (which I wrote just a couple of year ago). I wrote them from very different places and I am proud of what I accomplished in each case. YMMV.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

Never say never? :D I still feel badly that I left the sequel to "Water's Edge", "High Tide", hanging after posting just a few chapters. I never should have started it. My muse jumped ship to another fandom, and there was really nothing I could do. And I'm such a different person now, I don't know if what I would write now is what people who loved the first book would actually want to hear. I came back with the reboot and wrote "Bridges" and that largely said everything I needed to say about what happened to Mulder and Scully after "I Want to Believe". So, realistically, that was probably my XF writing swan song. But I would never say I won't ever post another fic. As the saying goes, "It all comes back to the X-Files". (And, yes, there's PLENTY of half-finished fic on my hard drive. LOL)

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I do. Now that my kid is grown, I'm trying to seriously pursue a professional writing career from here forward. And I do still dabble writing fic in my current fandoms. Right now there is a Major Crimes fic sitting on my hard drive waiting for me to work up the nerve to post it.;)

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Once I'm inside my POV character's head, the narrative in my brain won't shut up. I flesh out and what-if everything. I fill in every moment that doesn't appear on screen. I talk to myself a lot and live in my head and sometimes scare family members. I get some sort of orgasmic high from things like seeing Laura Roslin grasp and tuck into her own hair when she's crying while my inner voice screams "OMG IT'S CANON SHE SELF-SOOTHES WITH HER HAIR!!!!!" I maintain a surprisingly sane outer presentation for the crazy obsessed artist I am within.

What's the story behind your pen name?

When I began removing my real name from the internet (for you young folks, we all started out using our Real Names and building our virtual houses on Geocities, then got warned from everywhere of the scary scary place that is cyberspace and started NEVER EVER using our real names, then Facebook came along and now everyone and their dog is out there with their real names, and Gen X is still going WTF ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!??), I simply chose what I found to be a pretty last name (Rowandale). Elizabeth is my real name. Along the way, when I had started to feel confined by expectations for my writing based on my reputation, I challenged myself to be more honest in what I wanted to write by using the mental trick of a pen name no one knew was actually me, and invented "Rowan Darkstar" (the darker "edgier" side of Elizabeth Rowandale). "Rowan" was taken from Rowan Mayfair in Anne Rice's "The Witching Hour", my favorite novel at the time. Later, I went public with the fact I was Rowan Darkstar, and when I moved into my next fandom, I did so with that as my primary name. I have written in most of my fandoms as either Rowan Darkstar or LadyRowan with the exception of anything else Gillian Anderson related wherein I carried over the Elizabeth Rowandale since there were many crossover readers from X-Files.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

Many of them do, yes. For many years my mother was my primary beta reader!! Sadly, she now suffers from dementia and can no longer fill that role. My best friend came into my life through my Stargate and Sanctuary fic, so there's no hiding from her, and she is now my beta.:) My husband met me in the fandom. So...yeah, most of my close friends know.:) In my 'other life' as an Army wife (now retired) and suburban Mom not so much.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

The most reliable place is probably AO3. It doesn't have much of my older stuff, but I generally post anything new there. I'm Rowan_D on Twitter.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files?

No, you can't be red/green colorblind and be a field agent for the FBI. No, soul groups don't work that way, Scully would have been his lover in some lifetimes, too. Yes, someone with Scully's education and deliberate precision of language WOULD say "for whom?" and not "for who?", you are quite right to cringe. No, you can't drive to Quantico and back to downtown DC and have it still be morning. And lastly -- The Kansas town after which they modeled "The Rain King" is NOT brown, it is NOT flat, it HAS a regional airport, and the residents are educated and intelligent. I lived there at the time -- There was a whole layout in the local paper about the crew visiting for "authenticity." I still marvel at how that is even possible.

(Posted by Lilydale on August 25, 2020)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #elizabeth rowandale #xf fanfic author interviews

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

Photo

Marco’s Home for Lost Boys

Read on AO3 - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Tagging:

@lfh1226-linda

Chapter 5: Grief

Summary:

“I’m in. Let’s go get your dad’s stuff back.”

“Em, maybe this is a bad idea.”

“Bullshit, if you can do it, I can do it. Besides, I asked to do something exciting.”

Notes:

Warning for Character Death and also violence.

6 months later

“Come on Ems, one more?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk,” she giggled.

“Only if it’s working” Neal slides the glass toward her.

Her laugh was sloppy and loud, a snort escaping her nose.

“One more!”

She tosses the shot glass back as the warm liquid burns down her throat.

“You are so hot.” His hands are on her hips, pulling her toward him. She drinks in his lips, tasting of whiskey and peanuts.

As if on cue, her phone begins buzzing on the table beside them.

“You probably shouldn’t answer that in your condition, Ems.”

“Hello Captain!” She giggles into the phone.

“Swan, you need to come home.”

“Well, I’m quite busy right now sir…”

“Emma...”

“And honestly I don’t feel like coming home so I don’t quite think I…”

“Emma, it’s Marco. He had a heart attack. They did everything they could, but…”

Emma feels like the whole world has started humming in her ears, her knees buckle under her, phone slipping from her hand onto the table.

She can’t comprehend what Neal is saying on the phone to Killian before he hangs up and picks her up off the floor.

“Ems, Jones is going to come pick you up. Lets just sit on the couch until he gets here. I’ll go get you some water.”

This can’t be happening. Marco can’t be dead. Not her Papa.

She’s an orphan again.

Neal opens the front door on the second knock and he immediately smells the whiskey on the boy’s breath. Killian pushes past him to find Emma sitting on the couch, staring at her feet, a glass in her hand.

He grabs the glass and sniffs it to find it is water, but she smells like she rolled in a barrel of booze.

“Underage drinking? Bad form, Cassidy.” He scowls at Neal standing in the doorway.

“Save the lecture Jones, we were just having a good time.”

He looks down at Emma, “Swan, you alright? Can you walk? We gotta go.”

She stares straight ahead, and he kneels so that his eyes meet hers. “Hey,” her eyes meet his. “let’s go home ok?”

She blinks, recognizing him for the first time since he walked into the room.

“He’s gone.” She whispers and his heart breaks for the second time that evening.

“I know, love. Can you stand?” His hands cup her elbows as he stands and pulls her with him. She wobbles on her legs and leans into his chest.

“Seems like a real good time you two were having.” He peers over at Neal. “We’ll talk about this another time.”

He ushers Emma outside and opens the door to David’s truck, helping her into the seat.

Climbing into the truck himself he sighs and looks over at her. “I’ll try and cover with your brothers as best I can, but you’re gonna need to shower when you get home to wash the smell of alcohol off.”

The hot water numbed her face, standing under the stream in the shower. Killian had moved her quickly through the house and past her brothers before they even got the chance to console her or realize that she was anything besides utterly broken with grief.

The next few days went by in a blur.

The house was buzzing with activity with Arthur and August returning from college for the funeral. Robin shut down his bar for the week to be at home and help with the arrangements.

It was weird having so many people at home. Even though she knew it was only temporary.

Soon Arthur and August would go back to Boston and Seattle, Robin would go back to working 7 days a week at the “The Sleeping Lion”, David was on his way to building a life with Mary Margaret and she was sure overheard the two of them whispering about him moving out in the near future.

Killian was hardly around anymore either. He began working as a Boat Captain on the “Jolly Roger”, a tourist attraction where you got to sail with pirates on a real pirate ship, guyliner and leather included. But even when he wasn’t working, he was always out doing “something”.

It would just be Will and her. They had just started their senior year in high school. She was a couple months to her 17th birthday. What was she going to do now as everyone was leaving her?

She did everything she could during those few days to ignore the shouting in her brain. She packed up boxes in her father’s room, cooked dinner for her brothers, cleaned up the messes they left behind while they ran here and there trying to prepare for their father’s funeral.

She did everything, except cry. No matter what she did, the tears wouldn’t come.

Even as she stood in front of her Papa’s gravestone, rain coming down and bouncing off the freshly moved ground, David’s arm wrapped tightly around her, she found no tears.

Once they returned home that evening, she was starting to feel like she was suffocating. She wanted to yell at the next person who apologized for her loss and asked her how she was doing.

I’m fine.

“Swan, you should eat something.”

“I ate.”

“Swan.” She looked up into his narrowed blue orbs. “I happen to know you have not eaten anything since breakfast, and that was a piece of toast.”

“Geez, are you keeping a tracker or something? I’m sure I ate today.” She tried to push past him, but he held firm and his hand wrapped around her arm.

“Emma, I know there is a lot going on in that pretty little head of yours, but you need food if you wish to remain on your feet.”

She reached over and grabbed a cracker and cheese off the tray in front of them and shoved it in her mouth. “Happy now?”

He rolled his eyes but allowed her to move past him toward her room, slamming the door behind her.

Run.

E. You busy? I need a drink!

She clicked her fingernails on her phone waiting for the response which came quickly.

N: Come on over.

Emma grabbed her jacket, lifted the window upward and jumped to the ground outside. She was across town in her yellow bug in no time and running up the stairs to Neal’s home.

After the second knock on the door, it opened with Neal’s father standing in the frame.

“Emma, I’m so very sorry about your father.”

Emma smiled weakly. “Um thanks, Mr. Gold.”

“Please come in, my son said you would be stopping by.”

Neal appeared behind him and Emma stepped into the house.

“Please ensure you and Ms. Swan are responsible.” He nodded at his son and pulled on his jacket. “I apologize but I have business to attend to and cannot stay to entertain.”

“Oh well, it was nice seeing you.”

When the door closed, she turned toward Neal. “Um is he cool with me being here while he’s gone?”

Neal laughed. “Yeah, he even gave me a nice bottle of whiskey for us to share.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah, he can be cool sometimes. So, what do you say we crack this thing open?”

Emma was finally feeling a bit less claustrophobic being in Neal’s house. No one to mill about or force food upon her. In fact, Neal hadn’t even asked her how she was doing.

She grabbed the glass from his hand and quickly tipped her head back, feeling the warmth hit her stomach immediately. She grabbed the glass and poured a second shot.

“Woah, not messing around.”

“I just need to drink and not have people ask me how I am.” She sighed.

“Ah feeling suffocated then?”

“How do people think I’m doing?” She rolls her eyes. “Oh, I’m just fine, I’m great, who needs a father anyhow, I’ve done it without one before.” She parroted.

“Woah, Emma.”

“Don’t, Neal. I don’t need someone to comfort me. Just someone to pour the damn drinks.”

“I can do a lot more than pour your drinks.” His hand lands on her thigh.

She stands up and starts pacing the room, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and taking a swig. “I want to do something exciting.”

“Well, I was just trying to do something exciting but you’re now over there and I’m still sitting here.”

“Not sexual. Exciting, dangerous. Something that reminds you that you are alive.”

“Ok I think you’ve had enough to drink.” He tries to take the bottle, but Emma yanks it away from him.

“I’m serious. I just want to feel like I’m still here.”

“Well, I do have to do an errand tonight that might fit in that category.”

“Errand? How does that even fit in the category of exciting.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a… shall we say legal errand.”

Emma sits down next to him wide eyed. “Neal what are you talking about?”

“Never mind, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She takes another long drink of the whiskey. Why would Neal be doing something illegal?

“What exactly is this errand for?”

“Ems, I shouldn’t talk about it.”

“No, I want to know. Maybe I’m interested.”

“That’s the thing Em, you are not the type to be interested in this sort of thing.”

“Hey, I can be the type.”

“That’s the whiskey speaking.” He pauses. “Look, it’s not a big deal, I just have to pick something up that was taken from my dad.”

She stares at him. “Oh my God someone stole something from the pawn shop?”

He nods. “Uh yeah, something like that. And my dad asked me to get it back for him.”

“Well, if it belongs to your dad, then whoever took it should just give it back.”

“Exactly but well, they don’t actually want to give it back, so I have to kind of…” He looks at his feet, as if he doesn’t want to proceed. “I gotta go steal it, Em.”

Shit.

Her phone buzzes and she looks to see that she has missed a lot of messages.

K: Everyone is going to bed.

Will: Are you going to sleep all the bloody time now?

K: Are you alright in there?

David: I know you are taking this hard Princess but know that we are here when you want to talk.

Will: I was going to come talk to you, but Killian is being an arse and told me to leave you alone. Just checking to see how you are doing. I’ll talk to you in the morning.

K: I guess you aren’t coming out of your room anytime soon so...

K: Goodnight, Swan!

She takes another long swig. “I’m in. Let’s go get your dad’s stuff back.”

“Em, maybe this is a bad idea.”

“Bullshit, if you can do it, I can do it. Besides, I asked to do something exciting.”

“Ok but, you can’t tell anyone we did this ok?”

“Well duh.” She jumps off the couch and puts the whiskey down. “So, do we wear all black or?”

He laughs, digging into a small cabinet and putting something in his jacket pocket. “Nah what you are wearing is fine.”

She frowns. “Oh bummer.”

He grabs a black beanie from the cabinet and tosses it to her. “Fine, wear this so your hair doesn’t stand out so brightly. It can be your disguise.”

She giggles and pulls the beanie on, not sure exactly what the hell she is getting into. But she needs this. She needs to feel like this isn’t the end of her. That she is still breathing, and life goes on.

He can’t stop tossing and turning in his bed. His mind won’t turn off. It’s been a whirlwind for the last week since their father had passed. Everyone had stayed busy to ensure that all the tasks were completed.

Grief was tricky.

Everyone had a way of coping with it. Robin and Arthur had thrown themselves into work by getting all the details and chores done, August was slowly drowning himself in a bottle, David chose to drown in love by spending every moment with his girlfriend, and Will had cried until there was nothing left. He had been taking it hard after having found his father on the floor of the kitchen.

For Emma, she seemed to choose avoidance. He had barely seen the girl cry since their father’s passing.

Killian found that for him, grief was about figuring out your next move. Where it would take you from that exact moment in time.

And his next move was going to take money and a fair share of it if he was going to get his own place with Milah and ever have hopes of buying that ship.

He was already working 5 times a week at the harbor as a bloody pirate captain on the “Jolly Roger”. He got to wear some authentic leather pirate gear and he had to admit he looked dashing in the guyliner. But the job wasn’t going to get him the ship he needed to get out of here.

So, he got desperate.

He knew working as bag man on the side for Gold wasn’t exactly a hero move. Tossing his lot in with Gold was suicide to many who had done so before him. But Gold paid him double what he was making on the Jolly and offered him an extra bonus a few times to muscle some blokes who had refused to pay what they owed Gold. Gold was a private man, so his services had stayed out of the public eye which was exactly how Killian had wanted it.

Besides, as soon as he had the money he needed, he was done with Gold. He wasn’t proud of what he was doing, but it was a means to an end. And he would leave this town as soon as he had the money he needed anyway.

Everything he had planned was moving along except for one piece.

Emma.

Emma had gotten herself involved with Gold’s son, Neal.

Killian needed to make sure she got away from him before he left town. Neal was trouble. He was cocky, reckless, and selfish. Traits that were only going to get Emma hurt.

But he didn’t know how to tell Emma the truth about Neal without exposing himself to his own lies.

He looked over at the clock, 1:15am.

He groaned and pushed his covers off, sitting up on the bed and rubbing his eyes.

Maybe he could drown himself with that bottle for a little bit. Maybe it would allow him to find sleep.

Tugging on his boxers, he quietly padded through the house and opened the cupboard door, pulling the bottle of rum from the shelf.

“Can’t sleep either?”

Killian almost dropped the bottle to the ground at the sound of David’s voice.

“Geez, mate, not a good idea to sneak up on a man in the dark.” He stepped forward to see David sitting in a chair by the fireplace, a drink in his hand.

“Guess we had the same idea.” He held up his glass, the dark amber liquid swirling at the bottom.

“Aye.” Killian took the seat opposite with his own glass in hand, taking a sip of the liquid.

“Can’t believe he’s gone.” He sighed.

“What will become of this place?” David continued. “Everyone will be graduated adults next year.”

Killian’s raised his brow. “You really think Will is going to graduate?”

David laughed. “We’ll get him there.”

“Aye.” He nodded and then took another drink.

“We should probably talk about that though. You know, Will and Emma. They are both almost 17. Old enough that they will let them still live here, but I guess one of us will need to be their guardian until they graduate.”

“Hadn’t thought of that, but I haven’t the means to move out yet anyway.”

“Yeah, I was actually going to talk to everyone about this before Marco passed but,” He paused. “I had planned to move out in a month. I’m going to start working at the station for Sheriff Graham and they offered me a place close by in town.”

“Oh, wow that’s great news, Dave.”

“It was. But now.”

“No, you should still stay on your plan. Besides, I know you and Mary Margaret would love some privacy now and then.”

“Well, there is that.” He smirked.

“I’m happy for you, mate. You deserve happiness.”

“So, do you brother.”

He swirled his glass before taking another sip. “I’m a pirate captain five days a week, what more could I ask for?”

David stood to refill his glass. “You make a good point there…” he paused at the window. “Did Emma go out?”

“No, she’s where I left her hours ago, brooding in her room.”

“No, she’s not.” He turned, gesturing to the window. “Bug’s gone.”

This was the dumbest idea she had ever had.

Emma’s hands were numb from standing in the cold. Neal was hunched over the door, with small tools sticking into the lock as he jiggled them, but nothing was opening the door.

“Do you even know what you are doing?”

“Of course, I do, but I can’t do it with you yammering in my ear.”

“It’s just that you’ve been at this for a while and the door is still closed. I thought the point of this mission was for us to get inside.”

“Ok smart ass, you think you can better?”

She laughed. “Um no. I mean. I’ve never broken into anything in my life.” She stared at the tools sticking out of the lock.

Live a little Emma.

“Ok fine, move over.” She shoved his hands away from the tools. “So, what am I supposed to do?”

“I was joking.”

“Just tell me what to do.”

“Ok that wrench there, you push that in. Then take the pick, you need to move the pins around until they click into place and you can open the door.”

Emma pushed with her hands and could feel the pins moving around like a puzzle in her head. She closed her eyes and concentrated. She felt lost in her thoughts when she felt the door push.

“Ems, you did it, you’re a natural.” He beamed.

“Great, I have a future in criminal behavior.”

He pulled her up to him and kissed her before tugging her into the dark of the building.

“Just stay here ok. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait Neal, you aren’t just going to leave me here are you?”

“I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the black and Emma stood silently in the corner of the shop they were in.

Suddenly she heard voices coming from the direction Neal went.

“Neal?” she whispered.

She stepped forward into the dark. “Neal?”

Suddenly she heard his voice and saw him running toward her, “Run Emma, Run.”

Emma turned to leave but felt something grab her from behind. She kicked backward, making contact with whatever had grabbed her, knocking them backwards, the shimmer of something long and silver in the man’s hands.

Neal ran past her, grabbing the door and yanking it open. “Emma let’s go.”

She tripped as she tried to run to the door, falling into something that caused her to land on her knees. She knew she would have bruises tomorrow. Dragging herself up, she stumbled forward in the dark before hands grabbed her ankles and she fell forward again. “Neal! Help!”

“You can’t steal from me.” She heard a gruff voice coming from the man holding her ankle and she kicked at his hand with her free foot. It was enough to free herself and she clamored to her knees and onto her feet to grab the door handle, yanking it open.

Just as she stepped into the alley, she felt a pain in her side, a burning sting that made her scream out in pain. She shoved as hard as she could with her hands at the man standing behind her, a long silver knife falling to the ground as his back hit the concrete wall behind him.

Run Emma, Run!

She didn’t look back; she didn’t stop running until she got to the road. She looked around and realized she was completely alone. No man trying to grab her. And definitely no sign of Neal.

She knew she needed hide. To get out of the open. She looked around until she got her bearings and headed toward where she had parked her car on the back street.

She expected to find Neal at the car, but he was gone.

He left me.

She pulled the door open and locked the door behind her, looking around to make sure no one had followed her.

She breathed heavily, her hand clutching her side which was still burning. When she pulled back her hand, all she saw was blood.

And then everything went black.

#my fic #stacy's fics #Marco's home for lost boys #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fics

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wheel-of-fish · 4 years

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By the Numbers: Ben Crawford, Ali Ewoldt, Jay Armstrong Johnson

By the Numbers: The Ben Crawford/Ali Ewoldt/Jay Armstrong Johnson Stream, August 22, 2020

[long-awaited submission from Aldebaran; I’m putting it behind a cut]

Oh my gosh, an epic stream deserves an epically long and epically late By the Numbers! Come with me back in time, all the way back to two weeks ago, which in pandemic days is a month and a half. Before we were treated to Giant Ivan and Tiny Tamara in Moscow, there was The Swagger, The Disney Princess and The Bot…

This was a fantastically fun boot to watch as part of a group of enthusiastic Saturday Streamers! Plusses included an earlier-in-his-run Ben “The Swagger” Crawford as the Phantom, with the spotlight on his booming baritone voice, and Ali “Paris’s Sweetheart” Ewoldt as an enchanting Christine. And—Jay Armstrong Johnson (we’re pretty sure) as Raoul. Or some semblance of Raoul. Something was up with Raoul in this performance and the consensus was there may have been robotics involved. I won’t say more here; the streamers have it covered below and a fantastic set of memes by Onthevirg/faunaproductions caught tons more great moments. Very very nice filming job by a master who clearly knew the show well and anticipated major moments and character moves in a smooth manner. Not a bot though. As far as we know. And featuring an AIAOY– let’s just say that has to be seen to be believed.

Some stats on the stats: An asterisk * indicates a recurring category. All numbers are accurate except where they are not. I was tempted last week to resort to making crap up for this recap, but resisted the temptation. I will occasionally add in a missing letter or two. If a person’s train of thought is split up, I will ignore intervening commentary and put that thought back on track. Occasionally, by design or by mischance, a comment or two will be moved slightly out of original chronological order. Or wildly out of chronological order to cater to a theme. Or a whim. Only when it’s funny. There is also no clean way to say the word “organ” which pops up a lot in this stream. (See what I mean? It can’t be done.)

*Suggested names for this boot: The Animatronic Boot, The Better Than Cooper Boot, The It’s Alive! Boot, Robot Roll Call Boot (Okay, nobody suggested these. It was me. I suggested these)

*Statistician’s Favorite Boot Name: mechanical hands down, The RaoulBot Boot

*Wow, we like to talk about Phantoms: It has become clear to me that we like to talk about everybody. And everything. Phantoms, Christines, Raouls, Mandalorians. Here are most of the people mentioned in the stream. There is no context. Just like a real stream!!!

John Riddle (9), Gina Beck (8), Ramin (6), Rob Houchen (2), Ethan (1), Eiji (1), Uwe (3), Jordan Craig (2), Sierra (1), Steve Barton (3), David Shannon (2), Norm (14), Earl (1), Cooper (2), Darua (4), Thiago (11), Rachel Barrell (1), Meghan Picerno (2), Cherik (19), Pedro Pascal (1), B*rbour (7), Eva Tavares (4), Ted Keegan (5), Maree Johnson (2), Quentin Oliver Lee (1), Jeremy Hays (1), Ben Jacoby (3), Andrew Keenan Bolger (1), Greg Mills (1), Michael Maliakel (1), KKA (8), Jordan Donica (1), Kyle Barisch (8), Andrew Ragone (3), Paul Stanley/Stankey (3), Hannah Gadsby (2)

Residual Stolle Thirst: Residual Stolle Thirst from the stream a week prior to this one, plus Mr. Stolle’s appearance as Passarino AND the Conductor in this boot resulted in >32 mentions. There may or may not have been comparisons between his Raoul and this boot’s Raoul. I certainly wouldn’t put it past us.

Epithets for Ben Crawford: Ubiquitous mentions of Crawdaddy and The Swagger. More personalized and clearly personal epithets: Big Ben—ktarinajones, BENBENBENBEN—whereisthepersian, OH HELLO VOICE—butdreamsofbeauty, my horny bastard and I love him—ktarinajones

Epithets: reader’s choice as to which Phantom(s) the following apply to (no one in this stream): Fuckface McGee–therosenpants Sir Scruffsalot—snows Voldemort—Benny-Lynne Traschcan–therosentpants

Antici_____pation:

I can’t wait for jay I honestly thought they’d slapped a human face on a robot and called it a day—angedelamusique

Let’s all just have fun trying to spy hints of actual emotion in Jay’s Raoul—GlassPrism

Oh there will be memes. Ben Crawford is a walking meme and there will be a robot on stage—ktarinajones

Oh boy, here we go—GlassPrism

We love a trainwreck:

I love this stream crowd because you all show up for trainwrecks just as enthusiastically as you do for good actors—wheel-of–fish

We love a trainwreck!—butdreamsofbeauty

we’re ready—angelofthelake

trainwrecks are v satisfying—christinegrrl

We’re here with roses, we’re here with rotten fruit, we’re versatile! A good tirefire is a marshmallow roast–snows

Debut of RaoulBot: Before the show even began, JAJ’s Raoul had a name:

RaoulBot—ktarinajones at 20:01:33 (historic occasions get timestamps!)

wait they can’t moisten the raoul if he’s a robot, can they?—butdreamsofbeauty

they can oil him—ktarinajones

oil the raoul, perfect—butdreamsofbeauty

He has a silicone exterior—Benny-Lynne

wd-40—wheel-of-fish

How do we know he is waterproof? Let’s see if he sparks when he hits the Raoul Hole—Aldebaran

Earliest Meme Generation: Our intrepid memester Virg had material for a meme within 8 minutes 27 seconds of the start of the stream.

Love is in the Air: There was a lot of love in this stream

Ali Love: >32

Laird Love: 28

Carlotta Love: 20

Filmer Love: 5

Extreme John Riddle love: 2

when there’s video of John Riddle the filmer can have a kidney if they want—ktarinajones, seconded by christinegrrl

And then there was Jay:

Oh he did a head nod. Well done.—Bozzleboz

At least Jay doesn’t shoot a policeman—PureAnon

Several head turns in succession there. Getting ambitious.–Bozzleboz

Illumination!: Auction Raoul set the tone for the evening to come, and the chandelier seized the moment to shine.

OMG, his jaw moves just like a real person….or a nutcracker—Aldebaran

His batteries are running down. Maybe they will wire him for the new electricity.—Aldebaran

Robot Raoul is using all the electricity—Aldebaran

That chandelier isn’t rising—Ladyrock18

It’s not rising because they have to unhook the cables that power Raoulbot—DocTy

The chandelier shows more emotions than Jay as Raoul—Maze-zen

Erik made a Raouldoll to add to his collection?—Benny-Lynne

The chandelier shows the full range of human emotions. That is why it was cast.—haunted-hideaway

The chandelier is more expressive than this Raoul—Carole

The chandelier can actually sing in morse code—DocTy

Meanwhile backstage Raoulbot is recharging in his alcove—Aldebaran

If you listen closely you can hear diesel generators in the background recharging the batteries—DocTy

C’mon guys, he’s solar powered—ktarinajones

is that why he stops working in the dark during AIAOY–christinegrrl

Statistician Aldebaran wonders if she will be able to handle viewing Cherik:

Oh I finally finished the 90’s miniseries! I have thoughts!—Abberina

Abberina do you have thoughts other than “I hurt, I am in pain”?—snows

@snows the ending was WILD—Abberina

Abberina, I spent the whole day lying and crying after the 90s miniseries, are you allright?—Carole

“Wild”??? How are you still living! That ending! Gghh!—snows

Do you need something? A glass of water? Therapy?—Carole

My heart hasn’t recovered yet. And I watched it 4 years ago.–Carole

Christine Who?: One would think that Christine’s debut in Hannibal would have the streamers’ full attention. But no. All eyes were on Raoul in his box. Or maybe just unpacked from the box he came in.

can it be? can it be a robot?—christinegrrl

can it be chreeeestineeee—butdreamsofbeauty

engage clapping program—Aldebaran

clap beep boop clap clap—angelofthelake

beep boop clapping action beep boop—Jadowdra

EXECUTE EMOTION—missbuster

Stache or cache?: Once we were beginning to get an idea of the limits of Raoulbot’s programming, we turned our attention to his most character defining feature—the mustache.

omg mustache—MelancholysChild

His mustache is a little full for me. Oh well. I guess that’s where he hides his secrets.—haunted-hideaway

wowWWWW—put that boy in a floofy shirt and stick him in the pirates of the caribbean ride at disney, damn—snows

it’s where he hides his processer—therosenpants

haunted he needs something to cry into—ashadeintheshade

That is not a mustache, that is fiber optics—Aldebaran

although he is stiffer than the other robotic pirates—snows

Haunted, his secret is his charger entrance—Carole

You keep your secrets then, Raoul—haunted-hideaway

Autocorrect Follies:

Pinging = Piangi–Bozzleboz

Paul Stankey = Paul Stanley—IamErik771

Ironic Statement is Ironic:

I always forget there’s an elephant–yiks

Cooper finds a role:

[as Buquet appears] oh hey look it’s cooper!—snows finally a role for cooper, buquet all the way—Aldebaran ohh wait sorry it’s the other scruffy creepy nasty weirdo—snows

*Best from Onthevirg’s Mom: “like stolles passarino cooper should always be buquet—it’s a fitting role”

Joseph Buquet job performance review:

DO YOUR FREAKING JOB BUQUET. –madamefaust I’ll never get over that line “i promise i wasn’t doing my job!!!!!”—butdreamsofbeauty

The Boy Ain’t Right: Little Lotte made it very apparent that Raoul may have been compromised.

Don’t make fun of him, you guys. The tiny alien in his head driving his body is doing his best, ok?—haunted-hideaway

li tt le l ott e—tearoses

So….Erik’s looking like an awesome choice right about now…–HerbalPath

Usually i’m r/c but uh not today—yiks

His hat is just an excuse he’s going to recharge a bit—Carole

That was almost threatening how he said little lotte—Ladyrock18

*Vintage MadameFaust: Don’t quote me too much, my knowledge is based on judicious use of Wikipedia;-)

[inspired by Raoul’s Little Lotte performance] CHOCOLATES

HUMANS LOVE CHOCOLATES *Biggest Organ in Paris: The mirror scene included a thunderous organ accompaniment. It took me ten minutes to write a non-filthy sentence that conveyed that information while containing the word “organ.” The Saturday Streamers were fired up! Except for a certain statistician–

WOAH—therosenpants THAT ORGAN—PureAnon ORGAN—haunted-hideaway Wow—DocTy ORGAN!—butdreamsofbeauty did you hear that??????—therosenpants organ—DocTy Orrgannnnn—Xyloghost that roused me from Lore Olympus—therosenpants ORGAN!—Jawodra What’s with the loud organ?—maze-zen organ AWESOME—snows THE ORGAN WAS PERFECT—whereisthepersian I loved it!—MelancholysChild Is that new? that’s BADASS–snows Organ <3—Carole The organ is loud because Ben is loud—PureAnon Erik is playing his pocket organ–Abberina It’s the phantom of the phantom of the opera—wheel-of-fish

Oh God now I have to count Organ mentions (>20) and everyone is going to judge me—Aldebaran

*What scent are the Phantom’s candles: Previously established in the official “Love That Lair” candle line, in addition to Vanilla Brown Sugar, Cucumber Melon, Tobacco Spice, Underground Despair, and Hopeless Mist, the newest entry unveiled for this stream was Sepulchral Solitude, a light and airy blend of ennui, nihilism and condensation, perfect for occasional bouts of midnight composing.

*The Phantom’s pillows mentions: 2

obligatory pillow mentions, they are a nice colour scheme–missbuster

Baritone Love Fest:

we! love! a baritone! phantom!—butdreamsofbeauty

Baritones are the best!–PureAnon

Yes!—JacobZ

Yes to baritones. To whatever they ask.—Aldebaran

baritones are incredible—angelofthelake

I like em big and boomy—Bozzleboz

yes they are—MelancholysChild

The deeper and boomier, the better—PureAnon

*Erik has Skillz:

Okay so Ben just flipped through about six alternate personalities in a single line, and that’s impressive—snows

his voice is like chocolate sauce—Benny-Lynne

His voice is so deep I wanna scuba dive in it—Benny-Lynne

The Swagger at Rest:

Sir must you spread your legs so—snows

snows yes he MUST—ashadeintheshade

nice stance—MelancholysChild

Oo. Manspreading—Bozzleboz

but like… the good kind–snows

Sweet Music’s Throne: Ben’s nascent aggression came out in his organ playing. The INSTRUMENT!

OMG HIS KNEES This is really funny to me—madamefaust

He is def using his knees a lot—christinegrrl

Oh he’s….trying to play the keyboard—missbuster

He’s putting his back into that organ playing, there—haunted-hideaway

he’s definitely a more aggressive phantom I think—wheel-of-fish

A good squat workout I guess?—christinegrrl

Lift with your knees man—haunted-hideaway

The key to being an organist is all in the lumbar–Jacobz

Ben’s stance remains a source of….let’s call it concern. Yes, concern:

He’s got good stance—ashadeintheshade

why are his legs SO far apart though—butdreamsofbeauty

because they’re so loooong—missbuster

power stance—MelancholysChild

is he riding an invisible horse?—jadowdra

And, inevitably, boner mentions: 5 (You know who you are. Good thing, because I was watching Ben.)

The Phantom is pleased to announce: boner mentions are ummm holding firm

Christine makes questionable choices:

oh she looked down—christinegrrl

she totally looked down and then bolted but let’s be real WHY RUN—snows

Boner-adjacent vocabulary:

Horny and variants (>17)

Lusty (2)

Organ—THE INSTRUMENT!! (>20)

Christine does not stan a crafty Phantom:

he’s doing so well then he has to bring Barbara into it—Virg’s mom

SEE? I MADE THIS FOR YOU?

OOPS

THAT DID NOT GO TO PLAN—haunted-hideaway

Strange Ships: The debut of a long overdue category highlighting all the really random ships that are proposed during a given stream.

Erik/RaoulBot—haunted-hideaway

Andre/Carlotta–????

Barbara/severed Hannibal head—????

Christine/Luigi—ashadeintheshade

Barbara/new and improved sexbot from LND—Onthevirg

RaoulBot/Barbara—DocTy {streamers were split here that Barbara shouldn’t settle versus OTP}

Yes, I know, it’s a great disservice to Barbara but still, maybe they can bond over replacement parts—DocTy

Only in this streams I walk away with either a new favourite actor, a fanfic recommendation and/or a new pairing to ship—Jadowdra

*Education of the Innocent: Several seminars were held this stream. First, a wide ranging and frank discussion of historically accurate ballet rats, pimping and ummm social diseases. We segued from a dissertation on our own Madame Giry as a probable pimp to the topic of the hierarchy of French Royalty. These topics heavily featured our resident history buffs therosenpants, angedelamusique, PureAnon and madamefaust, with varying degrees of participation in the pimping and social disease discussions. Second, a discourse on “the catch” and variations, the catch being allowed in London and not on Broadway due to union rules. A variant unknown to me, the “half catch” was mentioned. Third, a sadly eye-opening (for some) discussion of the “horsey dance”:

Look, Norm was directed to do the horsey dance. Anything is possible on Broadway.—madamefaust

sorry a HORSEY DANCE—butdreamsofbeauty

HORSEY DANCE???—onthevirg

horsey dance…??—angelofthelake

ah yes the ever classic jumping up and galloping horsey dance—madamefaust

It was more of a forceful trot during ‘Order your fine horses’ in Final Lair—madamefaust

faust you can’t just drop that in chat and not explain yikes—butdreamsofbeauty

someone link the gif—andgedelamusique

[fatefully the gif was linked]

thanks, I hate it!—butdreamsofbeauty

OH I thought that was a JOKE, that was REAL?—ashadeintheshade

oh noooo I saw that in like a compilation of funny phantoms and i thought it was a joke oh no—ashadeintheshade

The Horsey Dance claims more victims–Aldebaran

STYDI Sound effects:

[the Phantom collapses]

plorp—wheel-of-fish

plorp—MelancholysChild

Now I want to hear his palms squeak on the ground—madamefaust

I’m Jewish and I don’t approve of this level of ham Curse youuuuu—JacobZ

Prior to Il Muto the organ makes another appearance. The INSTRUMENT!!!:

Organ boop!—Bozzleboz

Organ again. Oh God now I said it.—Aldebaran

Aldebaran, you can’t escape the organ. The Phantom’s organ WILL find you.—PureAnon

this Erik is so extra he took the organist’s place in the orchestra—DocTy

Il Muto Pillow Mentions: 1

Fascinating discussion about which is worse/better, bad actors or boring actors:

It’s the old argument between what’s worse bad or boring—GlassPrism

is it better to burn out or fade away—wheel-of-fish

Is it more fun to watch an Uwe or a Thiago—GlassPrism

Thiago activates my RAGE setting.—madamefaust

AIAOY is never make me watch this again: Words cannot capture AIAOY. Nevertheless we tried. Here are selected comments.

EXECUTEEMPATHY2.0—missbuster

Maybe there is a rat driving him by his mustache like in Ratatouille. Raoultatouille.—missbuster

turn.her.90.degrees—Aldebaran

if she shakes him, I bet we can hear him rattle—DocTy

Raoul.exe has stopped working—christinegrrl

he bluescreened—butdreamsofbeauty

error 404—angelofthelake

can you even play Doom on this Raoul?—Jadowdra

Does he even like her?—madamefaust

He’s just staring into the abyss—angelofthelake

Why did no one tell him that wooing does not involve low-level dread—JacobZ

<10> no more talk of darkness GOTO20—snows

<20> forget these wide eyed fears GOTO30—snows

his wooing program has bugs–Aldebaran

YOU ARE NO BETTER THAN MY ARCH-ENEMY THIAGO–madamefaust

are they actually kissing?—madamefaust

now you must place your face upon her face and remain still—butdreamsofbeauty

this is depressing—virg’s lil sister

It’s more fun to suffer as a group—wheel-of-fish

Prevailing Theory:

The Phantom clearly switched Raoul with a mannequin—Maze-zen

Fondly Remembering Christian Lund during this AIAOY: 4

Fondly Remembering “the Boop” during this AIAOY: 5

*Requests for AIAOY Kiss replay: 0

Priorities Straight: Host Fish caller for dog pictures on her blog during the stream, resulting in the following mentions

Dogs (35, may need to be adjusted as one of Flora’s dogs is large enough to count as two), Goats (6), Cats (9), Rabbits (5), Chickens (3) Regular non-Cherik deer (1) Pig (1) Cherik deer (9) actual human children (1)

The Masquerade, or as some wags had it due to the mannequins on the staircase, the de Chagny family reunion:

Let’s see the robot try to dance—katarinajones

dance.exe—whereisthepersian

dance.exe failed to start—phantomofthebasement

He is going as a robot to the masquerade–Aldebaran

People gonna trip over his charging cable—whereisthepersian

Relief is the wrong emotion to feel when the Red Death arrives:

Why at a costume party is everyone afraid of a costumed man? How do they know to be scared? Do they hear the background music?—JacobZ

It’s his authoritative stance—madamefaust

Christine’s reaction maybe?—ktarinajones

I think they’re afraid he’s going to drop another chandelier on them. Which, valid.—madamefaust

They saw the bead work. They know who it is.—haunted-hideaway

*Sad comment is sad: commenting on the ornate bow on the score for Don Juan Triumphant

He wraps it up like the present he never received.—haunted-hideaway

*Fathering Gaze lyric: 1

*That staff tho:

“I’m going to a graveyard. I should take my shooty stick with the skull on it!”—haunted-hideaway

We passed the Point of No Return long ago. From the auction, in fact:

his accent, lol–ashadeintheshade

Accent—Bozzleboz

itsa me…—Aldebaran

ITSA HIM—madamefaust

I hate you all—wheel-of-fish

And Ben plays videogames backstage. His inspiration is literally Super Mario.—madamefaust

That was some nice cup stroking—GlassPrism

The Raoul Hole holds no dangers for Raoulbot:

Oh no he’s going to rust and shut down in the lake—wheel-of-fish

They spray him down and moisten him before he jumps in, otherwise he’ll just float on top—haunted-hideaway

Raoul’s wifi is down once more:

Is the boat stuck? Oh, there it goes—madamefaust

The radio signals running Raoul confused the boat—Aldebaran

The organ makes a return in Down Once More: The INSTRUMENT!!!!: 2

Veil Fluff Mentions: 2

he didn’t fluff the veil—ashadeintheshade

I like the veil fluff–ashadeintheshade

Veil Yeet Mentions: 11

The Kiss. An actual human kiss, unlike AIAOY:

ohhh he bends into the kiss—Aldebaran

Aw he’s TRYING to figure out how to kiss—Flora-Gray

He done touched a lady.—haunted-hideaway

That was a good kiss—Abberina

Bozzleboz breaks me, as the Phantom approaches hanging Raoul with a candle:

I burn him now, yes?–Bozzleboz

The Phantom breaks us:

oh god. He just broke me.—Bozzleboz

ohhhh poor angel—Aldebaran

aw erik :(–angeloflake

he’s so resigned:(–Benny-Lynne

we love an exhausted depressed sewer man—butdreamsofbeauty

This Phantom survives just so he can go disassemble Raoul—Aldebaran

Looks Like We Made It:

Time to go plug Raoulbot in for the night—angelofthelake

Performance Comparisons for Raoul/Career Suggestions for Raoul, You Decide:

Nutcracker—Aldebaran

Mannequin Bride—coroaline

Tin Man—christinegrrl, yiks

Edward Scissorhands—GlassPrism

Calculon from Futurama—IamErik771

C3PO—wheel-of-fish

Automaton—ktarinajones

Dalek–missbuster

Cardboard Cutout—haunted-hideaway

Hat Stand–Bozzleboz

*Things I wish I had said:

Christine in Final Lair: She has to go put Raoul in a bag of rice but she’ll be back—Benny-Lynne

*Statistician Aldebaran’s two favorite personal quotes:

little known fact, the red scarf is actually a fanbelt from Raoulbot

19 years on the score, 1 year on the bow

Phew! See you shortly with the By the Numbers of Moscow from LAST week!!! Aldebaran

#saturday streams #aldebaran #by the numbers #submission

36 notes · View notes

lifeinahole27 · 4 years

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CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 4/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (much later in the story)

Content Warnings: Maybe some strong language.

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this.

A/N: Without going into too much detail, I’m moving to a twice-a-week posting schedule. Mental health and mental illness are truly fickle things. This is the only way I can control mine right now. If I’d had my way, I would’ve posted the rest of the story in one go and taken a few months away from all social media. This was the proposed solution. Thank you for all the support and love over the last five years. It’s been my favorite adventure, so far.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 4: Middle of the Road

October 25: Friday

Friday is another night out at the Rabbit Hole, and for once Killian is there before her instead of the other way around. He’s in the middle of some animated story about lobsters, much to the amusement of those in attendance judging by their rapt expressions. There are two seats open at the table. One is the safe option, across from Killian and next to David. Or the other option is to sit at the head of this cacophony of tables and next to Killian directly.

His gaze flicks over to her, as if he senses her thoughts, and as the story wraps up to the raucous laughter of their whole group, he puts on a satisfied little smile and lifts his hand in greeting.

It looks as though he’s gotten the approval of both Snow and David, so that’s a mark in the right column.

When her drink is set down in front of her, she wanders over, making a split second decision to sit at the head of the table.

“Seems like I missed the best part of the evening,” she says as she settles in beside him.

“Long story short, the lobsters won the battle,” Killian tells her, smiling and sipping from the bottle in front of him. “How was your day at work, Swan?”

“David hit a new record in computer freeze-ups, so it was a little long.”

“It’s not my fault the computers are still running Windows 95,” David argues, his scowl not directed at Emma but at the ancient technology they’re currently running in the station.

“And it’s not my fault you just decided this year that you wanted to start digitizing the last fifty years of records we have,” Emma retorts, losing the battle with herself and sticking her tongue out at David when he does the same to her. “Also, I would definitely argue that it is your fault that our equipment is so damn old.”

“Have you spoken to Regina about upgrade budgets?” This comes from the other end of the table, where Robin is seated, and almost every head swivels to look at him. “Ah, that’s right. You’re all terrified of my fiance. How silly of me to forget.” The blase tone has no offense to it; Robin is simply used to the stunned silence he gets at the obvious suggestion of asking Mayor Mills for budget increases in certain departments. It’s no big deal to him, the guy dating her, because one day he walked into her office to talk to her about a playground rebuild and suddenly they were seen everywhere.

Of course, back then, everywhere they were seen included heavy amounts of arguing. Then, suddenly, one day they were everywhere and making out. So that was an interesting development for a sleepy little town.

“You know, I forgot that since she started dating you she’s been much easier to talk to,” Emma mentions. “Maybe I’ll schedule an appointment with her and ask about getting some upgrades in the station.”

“It’s best that you do this one on your own. She’s still mad at me for dragging a pack of dogs through those daffodils she had in front of Town Hall,” David admits.

“Only a little, mate,” Robin adds, winking when David looks at him.

“Isn’t it rather handy to have the expat club around, love?” Killian nudges her with his elbow when he says it, grinning wide when she makes eye contact.

“It’s not so bad, I guess,” she responds with her own smile back.

After a couple hours, the length of the day starts to weigh on her and she can feel her eyes drooping shut even with the group still in full swing.

“Okay, I’m calling it a night,” she announces to their side of the table.

“I’ll walk with you, Swan, if you’ll allow me. I’m at the end of my night, as well.”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to dismiss him, but Snow catches her eye and gives her one of her meaningful looks. She gives one of her own back, indicating that yeah, fine, okay she gets the message.

“Okay. Let’s go,” she says lamely, instead of whatever objection had been waiting.

Outside, they both take a moment to adjust to the quiet and the wind, with Emma pulling out her beanie and pulling it on snugly.

“I need to remember my own,” Killian says, indicating the hat on her head. “You’d think I would be better suited for cold weather given the track record of my home country.”

“After I moved back it was a struggle to get used to the temperatures again,” Emma admits.

“Moved back?”

“From Florida. I spent three years down there,” she says, leaving out all the rest of the story on purpose. But the answer seems to suit Killian just fine.

“I never officially lived anywhere else until I moved here,” he tells her as they walk down the street. “Visited a lot of places in the Navy, but official, permanent addresses were all in the same town.”

“The Navy, huh?”

“Aye. One day you’ll get to hear all about my sordid but charming history,” he says, a teasing note to the words.

It’s so easy, walking the short distance with him. She almost tells him she can take the rest alone when they hit their corner but she resists, instead leading him again along the path to her building. He stops when she does, still standing a respectable distance away.

“Thanks for walking with me,” she says quietly. In truth, she wants to ask him up for a cup of coffee or something, but she can’t remember the last time she’s had a man in her home and now doesn’t feel like a good time to try when it’s getting late and she wasn’t lying about how tired she is.

“Always a pleasure. Goodnight.”

She responds in kind, itching like she did that first time he walked her home to reach out, to have some form of physical signature to end the evening.

He’s just turning away when she moves again, grabbing his arm and going for a quick kiss on his cheek but he turns and the peck ends landing right on the corner of his mouth. Rather than sink into the comforting embrace of awkwardness, she stands her ground against the urge to run.

“Thank you again,” he tells him.

“For what?”

“Everything. Walking me home. Understanding. Not pushing me. I’m trying to get on the same level, and I wanted you to know that.”

“All at your own pace, Swan. Goodnight,” he says again, his smile tinged with peace.

She makes sure to give him one last wave and smile when she gets to the door, liking the way this night ended much more than the last time he walked her home.

-x- October 30: Wednesday

While Storybrooke is a small town, it doesn’t mean Mayor Mills has an abundance of time. As such, Emma can’t get an appointment until Wednesday. It’s something to break up the monotony of the day, however, so she doesn’t mind. Right before lunch time, she heads to the stately office building and waits her turn behind various townspeople requests.

It’s such a simple meeting, with professional courtesies and barely any spare chatting or gossip. Regina’s never really been the type, even before she got together with Robin. While he’s certainly made her more approachable, the meeting is still over about ten minutes after it begins, and Emma comes away from it with more than she anticipated.

Armed with her upgrades budget and a wishlist a mile long, Emma heads outside and starts walking back to the station. Across the street is NeverEndings and she slows down a bit, weighing the decision to go in. Ultimately, the idea of surprising Killian and maybe asking him if he wants to grab lunch with her is what sends her crossing, pulling open the heavy wooden door and rushing into the reception area.

The last couple days have been really nice with him. They walk together in the mornings, and sometimes she loops her arm through his while they cross the street. She has snuck him two kisses outside of the library so that Granny doesn’t see it when he leaves her at the front of the diner.

And today, she didn’t even have to stop at the diner. Instead, Killian was waiting at their corner with a second mug of coffee. The least she can do is give him his afternoon caffeine fix.

It turns out the office building is a little more active during the day compared to when she brought him his dinner. She stands there in shock for a moment, remembering that there are people that work here that aren’t Killian, or Will, or Robin, and trying to decide if this really was a good idea.

She’s just about to turn around and head out again when the secretary, a woman named Anna, calls out to her.

“It’s nice to see you, Emma! It’s been too long! Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“Um, I’m actually here to see Killian? Killian Jones?”

“He’s in his office. Do you need me to take you back?”

“No, thanks. I know the way. Thanks Anna.”

It looks like Anna is about to launch into something else to say - the woman has a penchant for talking far too much but is one of the nicest people she’s ever met - but Emma moves quickly beyond the desk and back towards the office she knows.

She weaves her way through the halls again, finding Killian’s door wide open this time. He’s not alone, however, and she startles when she sees a young teenager sitting in the chair across from Killian’s desk. Like he can sense she’s there, the man in question glances away from his computer screen and makes eye contact with her.

“Ah, Swan! Good afternoon. Henry, just give me one moment,” he tells the young man in the chair, starting to rise from his own.

“Sorry, I didn’t -”

The boy turns then, curious brown eyes landing on her, so familiar that it steals all the breath in her lungs momentarily. Even his hair looks the same color as Neal’s.

“I didn’t know you were busy. Never mind,” she says quickly, turning from the door and all but running back out through the front doors before Killian even has a chance to finish standing up.

“Emma?”

His voice follows her down the hallway, but she doesn’t slow down, doesn’t even stop to consider what this may look like to him. The only thing she’s concerned with is getting away from the memories she wishes she could forget.

Her feet take her to Granny’s - something about this place is the heart of Storybrooke and so everyone always ends up here one way or another - but it’s mostly a trip for comfort rather than necessity this time.

In that regard, the proprietress must sense her needs, because she’s handing over a bear claw fresh from the fryer while Emma waits for her usual lunch to cook. Directly after, a mug of hot cocoa is placed in front of her, cinnamon already sprinkled over the whipped cream.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Same as always,” Granny says without slowing down in her movements behind the counter. “Dessert’s on me. The hot chocolate is from that one over there.”

Emma glances to where she’s pointing, expecting to see David or Ruby or anyone besides Will settling into a booth along the windows. He raises his own mug and turns back to his conversation with Belle, but she has a feeling that’s not the end of the moment just yet.

She’s halfway through pushing her lunch around her plate when Will wanders over and props against the counter where she’s seated.

“Did she put the rum in it like I asked?” he asks, pointing to the mug in her hands. Suddenly, she wonders if there was a different tang to the usual comfort today but Will’s smile is one she recognizes. “Only joking, lass. I know you’re on the clock. But surely you could’ve used it with the way you looked when you ran from the office.”

“You saw that?” She wants to cringe, to run away and hide again, but Will isn’t judging her so it’s not the end of the world.

“Sped right past me as I was on my way back to Killian’s office. You know him and I go way back?”

“I thought you just met when he moved here.”

“Hardly. Met right before he joined the Navy through some literary club thing he was in. He was interning at the London branch when this position opened up and I told Robin to hire him and stop having all those brains wasted on fetching coffee and being a gopher.”

“Leaving England for a junior editor position had to be a big decision. Why would he come all this way for a spot he probably would’ve gotten if he stuck it out over there?”

“That’s all his story to tell you. But there is something I’ll tell you about Killian,” Will starts, and Emma won’t lie and say her heart doesn’t stutter at the words. She’s expecting the worst, as always, but she nods at him to continue.

“He hasn’t been in a relationship for a long time. Had his heart broken clean in two. If I’m not mistaken, that’s something the two of you have in common,” he says gently. There’s something about the way he says it. This is a level of friendship they’ve never crossed, preferring witty banter and faked hatred to show their friendly affection for each other instead.

“I’m guessing he doesn’t know you’re telling me this?” Emma asks.

“No. Probably tell me to mind me own bloody business. But it’s funny. About a month and a half ago he started smiling the way he did, before life got to him.” He gives her a look at that, before Belle is back by his side. Her fingers link with his like she doesn’t even know she’s doing it, and the sight makes something in Emma’s stomach clench with want.

They turn to leave her, but Emma calls back to Will before he gets too far.

“Thanks. I’ll try not to be too mean to you from now on,” she says.

“Bollocks! That’s half the fun of it!” he exclaims, grinning ear to ear and turning around as Emma laughs.

She doesn’t particularly want to return to the station but knows she should go back to work. The rest of her day is spent intently focusing on the files she’s copying. When David leaves for the day, she tells him to go on ahead. If he’s worried, he knows better than to push for information right now, which works just fine for her. She’ll talk when she’s ready.

When the last file of her stack is completed, she finally shuts everything down, looking up to find Mulan kicked back at her desk and reading a book.

“Never thought you’d give up,” the other woman mutters without looking away. “Go home. David delivered food to your apartment over an hour ago.”

“I’m going. But not because you told me to,” Emma points out. She stands, bending and twisting and stretching until all the pops and cracks from her back have helped ease some of the pain she feels.

With more amiable separating words from both of them, Emma finally leaves Mulan to take over the next shift, knowing that Phillip will probably be in after his aptly named son, Phillip, is put to bed for the evening. Her walk home is trudging, at best. Even knowing that David dropped off food for her isn’t helping pick up her feet any.

The shock of seeing a kid look that much like Neal is enough to sour a whole day, if not the whole rest of the week.

It’s not just that Neal left her, and that he left in the middle of the night while she slept, but that he did it because he thought Emma was pregnant. There was no indication that she even was. She had a stomach bug, three days of her head in the toilet which was preceded by her mentioning she had a craving for Granny’s grilled cheese sandwiches and a chocolate milkshake from back home.

Not even bothering to do the math or ask about her cycle, he just assumed that the cravings and the vomiting meant she was pregnant. They’d had sex once. For roughly thirty seconds until he complained that she was too tight and he pulled out. And he’d been wearing a condom.

The anger of it starts fueling her into moving again, and she almost rushes right past Granny’s when she hears the calling of her name.

“Evening, Swan!” Killian greets her from where he’s kicked back in one of the chairs on the patio, even though it’s far too cold to be sitting out here like that.

She waves, something jerky and unsure, and keeps moving along. She had no intentions of waltzing into his office and then fleeing like it was the scene of a crime this morning, and it’s mostly embarrassment that has her feet moving quicker.

“Come on, Swan. Don’t make a man drink alone.”

“Not in the mood for a drink. Or a man,” she says, half-zoned out and just wanting to get home to try to process the rest of her emotions.

“Emma, sweetheart?” he asks, hurt evident in his voice, and when she doesn’t slow down he gets up from the chair he was in and moves after her. “Wait a moment, Swan. What’s happened? What did I do between this morning and when you stopped by my office?”

The fact that he thinks it’s his fault is what has her slowing minimally and letting him catch her around the forearm with his prosthetic hook. He uses that momentum to coax her to turn around, and the look on his face is finally what makes her cave. He doesn’t deserve the brunt of her fuckery. He’s been so patient through everything else, and while any other man in her life would’ve probably run at her first change of heart, this one has stood nearby with no pressure, no conditions asked. She fights through that heavy feeling in her chest, past the lump in her throat, so she can maybe even try to explain what happened.

“It’s not you. I just… was reminded of my past and why I’m not good at this kind of thing.

“You’ve got to trust that I have no ill intentions here.”

“You think this is because I don’t trust you?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Of course I trust you. But it doesn’t change the fact that everyone I’ve ever been with has left me behind.” It’s probably the first time Emma has ever admitted any of this out loud, and suddenly what she thought was just a slight case of emotions feels a lot more like a boulder sitting in her stomach. For the tiniest moment, she’s afraid she’ll start crying. Her voice is almost garbled when she speaks again, fighting past the emotions welling up. “Neal, Graham… even Walsh. They left me in one way or another.” He doesn’t know them yet, doesn’t know what they did, but letting their names out into the open takes away some of their power.

Moving just a bit closer, Killian holds eye contact with her, probably just as much for him as for her. “Well, love. You don’t have to worry about me. I may leave this area on occasions, but I’ve no intention of leaving you unless you tell me to.”

It could just be an empty promise, but coming from Killian it sounds like a genuine one. She nods, just a fraction of her chin tilting down, to show him she understands. He moves forward the rest of the way, his intent clear without being overpowering. And then he’s kissing her, his arm coming snugly around her waist.

It’s different from their first kiss and the small affectionate gestures they’ve shared recently. There’s something more than intention behind it and without the spontaneous factor involved, it’s calmer if not less intense. It doesn’t occur to her to be ashamed that they are standing in the middle of the street because how can she care about anything else when Killian is doing his best to remind her what human connection feels like with each subsequent press of his lips?

This is enough for now, the start of a new routine for them. She always just assumed he was some nerdy dude with an office job, but really, Killian is like twenty things all wrapped into one and she’s discovering she’s eager to uncover each layer of him one at a time.

With that thought, her final hang-ups fall away and she surrenders instead to the warm lips attached to the man that has changed her mind about dating. She thinks to tell him that, but then he’s shifting, his hand sliding into her hair as his left arm pulls her closer and then she’s all but crawling into his jacket. He’s warm, chasing away the chill she’s felt not just because of the temperatures but because of the hole she let herself sink into earlier. Chest to chest, she can feel the sound that rumbles through him when she wraps her arms around his waist.

There’s a part of her that wants to know, desperately, why she was resisting this - resisting him, but she knows there’s still miles to go before all the dark spots fall away from her memories. This is a good start, though. It’s just them, figuring things out and also making out like they’re a couple of teenagers.

“There are better places to do that than the middle of the road.” It’s Granny’s voice that springs them apart.

“Seriously?!” Emma says, looking over Killian’s shoulder at the older woman.

Granny just gives her one of her patented looks and goes back inside, leaving them alone again.

“Would it be all right if I walked you home?”

“Sure. I’d like that,” Emma answers, taking his hand as they start heading that way. “Are you dressing up for Halloween tomorrow?”

“Aye. Quite the get-up I’ve got, too.”

“Oh yeah?”

He hums his agreement, but not saying anything more about it. “How about you, love? What have you cooked up for a costume?”

“I don’t normally dress up,” Emma admits. “But I think I can pull something together easily enough.” Even as she says it, she’s thinking of the parts of a suit she has at home. Surely she can pull that off with a couple accessories, right? It’s too good of an idea not to try, and so even though she's sad to say goodnight to Killian after the moment they’ve just had, she’s also excited to get inside and go tearing through her closet.

She makes sure to thoroughly kiss him goodnight before she does, however.

-x-

Chapter 5

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan ff #sarah writes ff #csrt

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that-banana-headed-bovine · 4 years

Text

Season 2 Shenanigans

AHEYYY sO I went on a giant Knight Rider binge the last few days, and I've FINALLY seen all of Season 2!! Big thank you to @trust-doesnt-oxidize who watched with me and stayed up absurdly late because I wanted to see Garthe before I went to bed AIDBWJFNEM

I just wanted to post a quick reaction to all of the episodes, spoiler warning activated!

Goliath Parts 1 & 2

I LOVE MY DOOFY VILLAIN SON. K.I.T.T. is HILARIOUS, I love his dynamic with Goliath, as is evident by my handle oops- I hate how Season 2 starts with my son almost dying tho, almost had a heart attack tyvm! This is back before I knew anything about the direction of the rest of the series so I was legitimately in shock lmbo- Moustache Michael is a gem tho I love him. I SURE HOPE HE STAYS A DUMB VILLAIN WHO'S JUST REALLY SILLY TO WATCH. SURE HOPE THEY DON'T TAKE HIM TOO SERIOUSLY.

Brother's Keeper - Blind Spot

I- forgot that these episodes existed until I looked at the episode list for this, soooo...

I should really not be lazy and look up an episode summary and try to remember what I thought of these but the problem is that I am in fact going to be lazy because this post is already taking so long

Return to Cadiz

This episode is so,,, frustrating. Not the plot or the format or anything like that, nono... I mean how they essentially introduced April. Like, okay, I know that she has been here since the beginning of Season 2, but she hadn’t really said much up until now. This was where we really got to know who she would be, and, uh... After this episode, I absolutely hated her. Despised even. She forces my son to go drive on the same ocean on the same beach where Karr DIED without any testing beforehand AND is chastising Michael in a flirtatious way. The heCK is this woman?! WHERE’S MY BONNIE???!!! I was so mad at her you guys I. But the thing is, I don’t hate April, not by a long shot. In some ways, the rest of Season 2 does a better job giving her a character than all of Season 1 did for Bonnie! I really enjoyed April and wish that both could have stayed. BUT THIS EPISODE makes her SO HATEABLE and I just ugh.

also I tried to watch this a long time before I got to and after seeing the intro and not knowing the title of K.I.T.T. vs. K.A.R.R. at that point in time, I thought Karr was gonna come back based on all the panoramic shots of the underwater and I am so sad that he didn’t so oops this episode gets my wrath a bit

K.I.T.T. the Cat

0/10 there are no cats. False advertising.

Seriously tho this episode was a pretty run of the mill episode. The best part of the episode was Kitt, because it always is, but seriously that guy with the hedges was amazing- I GOT THE GAG BY THE THIRD TIME IT HAPPENED BUT THE FIRST TIME HE GOT STUCK IN THE TREE OH MY GOSH I WAS DY I N G- Also the fact that Kitt messed him up again trying to apologize is so sad yet funny ahosihdfiohasdf

Custom K.I.T.T.

APRIL GET THAT STUPID DECAL OFF HIM OH MY G O S H-

Somehow her 2-d design ideas looked almost worse than the actual thing and I thought the actual thing looked like a that default sticker decal that you get on a Hotwheels car. I’msorryI’mnottryingtoroastanyartistsIjust I why there’s so much potential with giving Kitt decals :(

Seriously I want to use my drawing software to draw fire on Kitt at some point because it could be done so cool and that ain’t it chief. I’m probably not going to be too great at it either since I don’t do backgrounds nearly enough and fire would be a background element for the most part but I could at least alter the colors ; m ; OR LIGHTNING OH MY GOSH AAA LIGHTNING WOULD BE SO COO L ON HIM- anyway it needed so much more red- and it was so asymmetrical too aHHHH-

I. I’m fine it’s fine I’m fine it’s fi-

I don’t even know why Kitt needed a decal anyway, the other cars didn’t have to have decals to be considered custom, surely his dash alone could have done it-

ANYWAY

This ep was so WEIRD at times oh my gosh. What was that series of insults the two ladies spat at each other? Like the one just complimented her eyeshadow aggressively and the other one accused her of wearing “training bras” or something like whAT EXCU S E ME What is this episode?! Kitt was so upset about the decal too :[

Soul Survivor

OH MY GOSH IT’S CUTE IT’S SO CUTE YOU GUYS-

I was recalling @knight-rider-fan-2000‘s theory about this episode (plz go check them out btw aaaa), and after watching it I totally agree. Michael was especially kind in this episode, and he seems to be overall a more supportive mentor for Kitt this season, starting with Soul Survivor and being pretty consistent throughout. I love their new dynamic so much- There’s definitely still episodes and moments where he’s closer to Season 1 Michael, but Season 2 Michael is a far superior human being in my opinion.

KITT’S SO ADORABLE LIL TINY CPU OH MY G O S H YOU’RE TELLING ME OUR SON IS ACTUALLY T H A T SMALL AAAAA

Michael really is so sweet in this oh my gosh, that whole arc where Kitt is his partner no matter what and that the car isn’t what made Kitt-- AW!!!! ADORABLE! Kitt being so unsure that he repeatedly asks Michael how it feels to see the Knight 2000 without him in it or fusses about his limited functionality as Michael patiently reassures him again and again that he’s wanted just the way he is, I just- Feelings.

One thing that hit me as funny though is when Michael finds Kitt’s CPU in the garage and the trash can is just like PULSATING and then he like yells at it like “tAlK tO mE kItT” and Kitt’s jus sitting there as a box of colored lights like “...”

I can just imagine a cut scene where Kitt’s like, “Oh and by the way Michael, if I could have said something I would have done so LONG before you started asking me to. Believe it or not, I don’t like being in a trash can.”

“You Dingaling.”

Also Michael and his whole “I’m an honest man you can trust me listen I’ll give you a small TV just like this one” and then he proceeded to not do that. Hmm.

Anyway, yeah, it doesn’t get any cuter than this. The only thing that would have been better is if Adrianne didn’t exist. Good thing she’s gone now~!

Ring of Fire

THIS IS SO TRIPPY THIS EPISODE IS SO TRIPPY

I would say that I hate Michael trying to get Kitt to subject himself to testing if he can withstand insane levels of heat. I would say that if April did not then walk in and karma the crap out of him. Gosh I loved it. How he immediately was like whAT NOOO YOU WOULDN’T MAKE SOMEONE DO THAT and Kitt’s just like :/

dang hypocrite, Michael my feelings towards you are so complicated sometimes

anyway

So. Many. Dogs. I usually love seeing Kitt interact with dogs but this started to get unsettling, I can’t blame him for not loving 6 different dogs all swarming him at once whAT- Have they nothing better to do than to jump on my son. What the heck language were those banjo players singing in? Was it a language or was it just gibberish keyboard spam that accidentally made it to the final script AOSHDIAOHSD

This whole swamp setting is really unique to this episode, and part of me really does commend the chance they took by switching up settings. It’s almost always a small town on desert roads. The way this all happened though was??? What?

I think the scriptwriters forgot that Return to Cadiz exists because Kitt got so much water damage AHSIDHAOISDH- I know April said the system was damaged but surely it would have minimized this a little bit. Also did literally anything change by the end of this episode? We didn’t see the guy get arrested, did we? And the girl decided to stay living out in the swamp forest thing. The only thing is that she, like, conquered her fear or something? Even though she still isn’t acting in that direction?

This episode didn’t actually d o anything did it LOL

alsowhatevenwasthatexplosion

It’s not a bad episode though, just really bizarre.

Knightmares

YOU KNOW WHAT I SAID ABOUT IT NOT GETTING ANY CUTER?

I WAS WRONG.

THIS EPISODE this episode THIS EPISODE. TOP TWO MATERIAL? MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK. TDR will always be my fav until the end of time I’m pretty sure because I don’t think another episode will get me to ugly sob like that (aLTHOUGH I AM MEGA HYPE HERE BECAUSE I WATCHED KvK AND IT WAS GOOD ALSO BUT WE’LL GET TO TH A T LATER) but in terms of sheer adorable buddies happiness this is the winner by all accounts. I really like how they portray Michael Long, and I genuinely think the arc here has an impact on the rest of the season in terms of how Michael treats Kitt.

I love how Michael had told Kitt a long time ago how they were partners, like how he used to have a partner when he was a police officer, and how now when Long is so confused about everything everyone is trying to tell him, Kitt chooses this specific word to help introduce himself, and everything feels a bit more grounded for Long. I love how Long immediately revolts against the way Devon and April try to tell him he’s wrong about who he is currently, which is, despite good intentions, the opposite of what he needs. I love how Kitt then swoops in behind him and decides to treat Michael Long like a WHOLE NEW PERSON, one who Kitt tries to get to know. I love how Long recognizes just how hard Kitt is trying and genuinely opens up to him. I love how he never reverts to being mean or rude to Kitt after he gets in the car the second time, NOT EVEN ONE sarcastic comment. How he never calls him a computer again after Kitt asks him not to, how he compliments his new partner left and right, how despite having no clue who Knight is he really wants to be that person for Kitt, because Kitt seems sincere and pretty great. I adore that bit where Kitt gently, lovingly lists traits good and bad about Knight and how Long can finally connect to this other version of himself.

“One more thing about Michael Knight.”

“What’s that?”

“I was extremely fond of him”

I love how Long starts saying “Good work, Kitt” after they complete parts of their mission and how Knight does not stop this for the rest of the season, even after he regains his memory. I love so much about this and could frankly talk about it even more than this but this is a brief summary so. So yeah, we’re moving on ;W;

Silent Knight

It’s funny so. I didn’t realize that Knight Rider had done any Christmas specials. I knew about the Halloween specials, but I didn’t realize the Christmas special existed. And so I was laughing at how funnee I was while I was like “SILENT KNIGHT HOLY KNIGHT ALL IS COME-” and then that’s exactly what the pun was meant to be. they done bamboozled me.

ANYWAY THIS MIGHT BE THE STRANGEST CHRISTMAS SPECIAL TO EVER EXIST EVER.

They kept mentioning the Christmas banquet thing to make it mildly related to the season but then it wasn’t, it really wasn’t, it all revolved around clowns. There was. There was a Santa I guess. Albeit a bank robber Santa--

And the kid is juuust obnoxious at first, I love how Kitt absolutely hates him immediately for some reason even though Kitt usually doesn’t hate people unless they do something really bad, but it feels so deserved because the kid is a jeeerk. Maybe it’s because the kid accused him of endangering human life and that Hurt?

Kid: Just let me drive and I’ll throw away this dumb clock thing

Michael: No

Kitt: YES

Michael: W H A T ?!

Kitt: YES

Michael: ugh whatever

I was kind of expecting Kitt to pull some sort of shenanigans while the kid was driving as payback for whatever he absolutely despised him for, but Kitt was actually just really sweet and gave him a bit of freedom until he started endangering himself and then helped him get back into control. Very wholesome.

AND the end was CUTE though, like the boy who had previously been a jerk going over and patting Kitt and being just sincerely nice to him ;w; wholesome

A Knight in Shining Armor

Gosh I always forget what this episode is about because the title is so loosely related LOL

The dynamic with Michael and the girl of the week was actually really cute and chemistry was not entirely nonexistant, so that’s a nice change from some of these that come out of nowhere. Her arc was actually pretty sweet, how she resented technology because she wanted to be loved and cared about, how she thought computers were incapable of doing that until she talked to Kitt...

And the cave was prebby.

But why couldn’t she understand that her DAD was in PRISON.

“Why didn’t he ever come to see me?” “Because he was in Jail.” “oh. But why didn’t he call???”

Diamonds Aren't a Girl's Best Friend

SOMEONE

AHAHA

SOMEONE CALLED MICHAEL

AHAHA

BERNIE CALLED HIM A DINGALING. Speaking of Bernie, all I could think this whole episode was

White-Line Warriors

LONG-LEGGED PUNK-

Seriously idk what this season’s love affair with the baddies picking on Michael but I love it.

Honestly the twist of this episode was really interesting, I still don’t fully get how the baddies’ plan comes together though. So the song plays on the radio and the police go to investigate the drag racers and the crims are IMMEDIATELY ready? okay then.

Radio announcer Kitt tho. That is blessed.

I want Radio Announcer Kitt. Then again, I just want more Kitt in general so.

Race for Life

INHALE

Y’ALL ARE REAAALLY TRYING TO MAKE ME DETHRONE KNIGHTMARES AS THE CUTEST, AREN’T YOU?

Well ha, joke’s on you episode, you’re getting docked points for only giving Kitt and Becky two interactions. And for making the donor obnoxious for most of the episode (although that end scene was pretty adorable). So, okay, second cutest.

THE WAY KITT WAVED I-

HE IS SO CUTE

he is so cute.

Devon was really sweet this episode, not gonna lie. I’m not sure if I’ve said it on this blog before, but I had strong dislike for Devon after Season 1. I can explain that later if anyone wants, I’d be perfectly willing to compare the two seasons, but Season 2 Devon is pretty alright. He doesn’t have much of a presence, but when he does, he’s kind. I’m assuming he let Becky win at checkers, in which case uh, aW?! Devon that’s cute.

KITT TRYING TO TEACH THE TEN YEAR OLD CHESS AHSIODHOAISD I LOVE YOU BUDDY

Also, I feel like this is the episode April really became her own character, separate from Cadiz. She’d kind of just been a slightly perkier Bonnie, but now we get to see her family, her concerns... And April’s a pretty good character.

OH AND THE WHOLE “Kitt is family” ARC IS THE SWEETEST THING ASHDHAOSDohIAD

“Julio, meet Kitt. He’s part of the family”

“Thank you, Michael.”

MY. HEART.

Speed Demons

Okay so. This is another one of those episodes where very little seemed to change by the end of the episode. The guy who was actually in danger quit motorcycling anyway soooo... The episode plot itself isn’t what I feel like talking about.

What was WITH that one announcer guy? Were we meant to like him or not??? First he tries to Kick the Kitt and Kitt’s like :/ whatever

and then he comes back and they start to have like, a deep conversation, and he lovingly pats the hood before walking away. And we’re like AWWW OKAY THIS GUY IS NOT TO BAD

AND THEN he asks Kitt to talk for someone and Kitt’s like “...” and the guy riots. Why did Kitt not talk for him and why did the guy go so absolutely bonkers when he didn’t? Were the cameras rolling and I just didn’t realize? And then we kind of hate the guy again because he once again absolutely went ballistic at Kitt. “That’s Showbiz.”

But then the dynamic with that coworker keeps coming up, and yeah, I guess she does seem a bit annoying. But she also seems like a potential lady of the week and a potential protagonist. So when she gets splashed with mud or whatever that was and the guys all like :D

What are we meant to be feeling?

Are we meant to feel bad for her or happy for him?

Because I just felt confused.

Goliath Returns 1 & 2

GOSH DARNIT ADRIANNE IS BACK

ALSO I-I-I I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT YOU BEING A DOOFY AND STUPID VILLAIN JUST P L E A S E STOP ; M ;

SERIOUSLY WHEN DID GARTHE TURN FULL PSYCHOPATH-

THE FEELING I GOT REMINDED ME OF WATCHING THE SHERLOCK FINALE. S H E R L O C K F I N A L E.

Sigh, I should have known he’d gone off the deep end when he walked into a hot tub with jeans on.

I will forever be mad at some versions coughincludingtheoneIwaswatchingoncough for cutting out the fact that Kitt’s microchip was almost ENTIRELY WIPED/OVERWRITTEN AND PUT INTO GOLIATH. Because uh, the way the show cut it up for TV, it seems like Kitt’s really in no danger other than being annoyed. But no, literally everyone almost dies. Fun times!

Seriously why did this convoluted garbage get a two-parter but Kitt vs. Karr didn’t?

This episode makes me sad. Not just because Garthe tried, and almost succeeded, to take away everything we love in this show. Not just because this episode strayed far enough from the typical formula for this to seem like some dystopian nightmare version of Knight Rider. Not just because freaking Adrianne is back.

I mean because I loved Garthe’s character, and this totally changed it. I like that they went into Garthe’s trauma a bit more with this one, but unlike some villains in the Knight Rider canon (okay let’s not play games, UNLIKE KARR-), what he does is so dastardly, SO insaNE, that there is no way to argue that he might be justified. No. No. Garthe, Adrianne, and Goliath are gone now, and that’s how it had to be.

OH ALSO GO O F F APRIL YES QUEEN I LOVE YOU- I honestly felt so bad for her when she turned around and broke down right after standing up to him, like dang, that hurts. And Devon was sweet in this episode too ;w;

Okay but were they planning on making another episode of this? Because that end scene was such an obvious teaser it’s not even funny.

“I hope we don’t run into those very much drowned people out in the streets again, Michael. And I especially hope that they do not construct another semitrailer with the exact same scale and name as the previous one that was driven into the ocean.”

“Yes, I agree Kitt, this is also an anxiety that I possess despite the fact that they are very much definitely Deceased. I sure hope that plot convenience does not interfere in the future.”

THANK GOODNESS THAT ADRIANNE IS GONE

wait what? her actress is in another episode as another character who’s just as awful? wHYYYYYY

A Good Knight's Work

THAT BEAR NEEDS TO DIE. I am so glad Michael ejected the dumb thing at the end, Kitt deserved it. Especially after Michael essentially told him to temporarily kill himself. Michael's a cyberbully now ig. The arc with Kitt and the car salesman was cute. Apparently deactivation is considered programming now? Michael my mans you could have given Kitt any warning at all (I kind of take this back after one of the Season 3 episodes I’ve watched uHHHH this was a lot of warning compared to how Michael rolls in S3 what the heck is wrong with him). Cute episode overall tho I guess. ALSO I JUST NOW REALIZED "A GOOD KNIGHT'S WORK" IS A PUN BECAUSE KITT IS WILTON KNIGHT'S WORK AND I'M MAD AT MYSELF FOR NOT NOTICING IT SOONER-

Mouth of the Snake and that other garbage one that's title makes no sense

David might as well be a plank of wood. A plank of wood that yeets himself ten feet into the air whenever possible, but I digress. Does this count as superpowers? I just love how he offended Kitt 0.1 seconds after meeting him and then Michael proceeded to tell Kitt off for reacting. Love that soooo much. It's also hilarious to me how most of this episode has a similar structure to most Knight Rider episodes and then they randomly start reacreating the Most Dangerous Game--

Let it Be Me

Why isn't this the season finale?! I mean, I'm glad it's not, but why? This is way worse than White Bird like why- I feel like the Stevie episodes are kind of a controversy in this fandom? I loved the first one. This one's just, blegh it's okay. She and Michael still have pretty great chemistry WHEN THEY ARE SPEAKING IN REGULAR SPEECH. I do not like Stevie singing the same song with Michael 100 times. The duet at the end is kind of cute though, sue me I like corny things.

Stevie: I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have been with this one guy but ;m;

Michael: has been with approximately 100 women by now

Also Michael: How could you ;m;

Big Iron

This episode is kinda wild. Why does the guy manage to have a full out breakup with Lucy in less than one minute? Why is Michael a marriage counselor now? Why couldn't Kitt take the oxygen out of the cabin when Michael was definitely going to die if he didn't? Since when does Turbo Boost use a ton of oxygen anyway? Why does this man just immediately make up with his wife after finding out that she helped him? And most of all, WHY DIDN'T THAT BARTENDER LADY ACT THE LEAST BIT CONCERNED WHEN THEY ABSOLUTELY TORE UP THE PLACE??? Lmbo she's just like "Stop it guys :/"

It’s so bizarre that this is the season finale ahsdoifhasodf but go off I guess NBC

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years

Text

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Additional Warnings: Teasing, Fingering, Spanking, just Jin being a dirty little lover (LOL)

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,795

Tag List: @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali

Chapter 37: Awake

“It’s not that I believe it, but that I want to try holding out...”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

The rain fell in heavy torrents outside. Seokjin sat at his desk, elbows resting on the surface with his fingers pressing together. If anyone happened to enter his office at that moment, they quickly vacated the room without disturbing him. He was usually kind, impressionable, and full of answers to the many questions that were thrown at him. He had a gentle smile or soft reprimand prepared for any situation.

Kim Seokjin’s current expression, however, would have frightened anyone who dared to look upon it.

His eyes, normally bright, were exceptionally dark and fierce. Full lips were pressed together in a semi-thin line as brows furrowed harshly over his eyes. The only sound resonating through the room was the steady ticking of the clock hanging over his bookshelf. A pin could drop in the room and it would have sounded like a gunshot fired off.

Why?

It was a single question that continued to bounce around inside of Seokjin’s head for days. No, weeks. He knew that there would be unrest in the criminal underworld upon their departure. It was a given. Gangnam and Yongsan were not small territories. All the other district heads were salivating at the idea that Golden Jackal turf was up for auction – metaphorically speaking. There would be no bidding for those areas. It would be an all-out war.

What disturbed Seokjin the most, the nagging concern that continued to plague his waking hours, was why no one seemed bothered into making a move. None of them. Not even Dongwook turned his head in the direction of those two territories. Something was brewing under the surface, far below the sight of the normal world. The underground was horrifying without all the clichés. It was dirty and festering like a wound that had been allowed to become infected.

His eyes narrowed slightly. …why isn’t anyone moving?

Seokjin’s calculations were normally spot on – perfect to the point of it being eerie. His call to hold off opening the hotel to timing down when, exactly, the others would need to pull out of the game. Namjoon and he spent many late nights figuring all the ins and outs to the tiniest of details. The Golden Jackals were able to succeed up to this point thanks to them both combining their efforts to see through every move and calculate all countermeasures.

However, it was clear the Jade Fangs were preparing for things far in advance. He recalled Namjoon’s face after the encounter he’d had with Shownu. As far back as Seokjin could remember, he’d never seen Namjoon reveal such an expression. There was anger, of course, but something akin to uncertainty that, had any of the others been privy to it, would have lost all motivation to continue down the path they were currently on. They hadn’t made a mistake. Seeing either Hoseok, Namjoon, or even himself waver would have made all their work disintegrate into a puff of smoke.

They couldn’t let that happen.

The shrill sound of the phone shattered Seokjin’s thought process. He cut his eyes toward it, watching the red light flash with each ring. Reaching out, he picked it up from the receiver.

“This is Kim Seokjin,” he answered calmly.

“Oh, Hyung,” Jimin said on the other line. There was a tone-shift that Seokjin instantly recognized. Jimin was uncomfortable with something, but he was unsure of whether or not to tell Seokjin about it.

Seokjin sighed. “What is it, Jimin-ah?”

Jimin hesitated, as if trying to piece together the situation he was dealing with at that exact moment. “You, uh…you have a guest?”

It was a question. Seokjin frowned, his eyes lowering to his cell phone to see that he’d received a text from Anastasia. He’d given her the day off and now he was regretting it. She would have chased this person off the premises, of that he was most certain. He sighed, unable to stave off the grin at the little kitty emoji she’d sent him, along with the words “Fighting” at the end.

“Who is it?”

“…it’s Wonho Hyung.”

He blinked, his gaze lifting to the doors to his office. No. It was a good thing that Anastasia wasn’t in the office now. Seokjin recalled the look on Wonho’s face when he’d first laid eyes on his financial advisor.

Dissolved or not, The Ice Claw of the Golden Jackals would not stand for it.

“Send him in,” Seokjin said finally. He could hear Jimin beginning to protest but he silenced him with a harsh click of his tongue. “Send him in, Jimin-ah.” He hung up the phone, promptly ending the conversation.

Rising from his seat, Seokjin made his way toward the side bar in his office. He didn’t bother turning his head as the doors opened and closed. Instead, he focused on preparing the drinks for both himself and his “guest”. As he poured the gin into the glass, he heard a familiar chuckle to his right.

“You remembered,” gruffed Wonho, his shadow casting itself just over Seokjin’s shoulder, “I’m impressed.”

Turning slightly, he met Wonho’s gaze – the man grinning easily as his lip piercing glinted from the fluorescent lighting of the room. Seokjin held the glass of gin out to him, waiting for it to leave his fingers before returning his attention to the liquor decanters. Dropping two cubes of ice into a tumbler, he let the amber liquid fall into the container – the distinct smell of scotch filling his nares.

“Who could forget your horrible choice of booze, Wonho-yah?” Seokjin turned back to Wonho and the two of them clinked their glasses together.

He gestured to the lounge area of his office where they had a clear view of the city from a large set of bay windows. Seokjin pressed a button on the wall, allowing the curtains to part so the lights of the city could fill the space between them. They both leaned along the frame, their bodies opposite of each other, not really paying their drinks any real mind. Or the city.

Seoul bustled with life below them. Cars zoomed past; pedestrians milled about – heading to unknown destinations. But the noise of the city never reached them.

There was only the sound of the clock ticking away.

Seokjin lifted his drink up to his lips, taking a slow sip to savor the smooth burn that slid down his throat. He didn’t have to look up to know that Wonho was sizing him up. But like always, Seokjin’s body gave nothing away.

“You’re not even going to ask me why I’m here, Jin Hyung,” Wonho said, amusement clear in his tone. It wasn’t a question.

The corner of Seokjin’s mouth lifted in a half grin as he continued to stare out across the cityscape. “Should I?”

“You’re not the least bit curious.”

This time, he let his gaze shift to meet Wonho’s. “Again, should I?”

Wonho’s grin widened, causing the chain connecting his lip ring to his earring to move. “It’s because you already know why.”

Seokjin shrugged. “This is becoming a one-sided conversation rather quickly, don’t you think?” He narrowed his eyes to Wonho ever so slightly. “So, why don’t you do us both a favor and get to the point of this little visit already, hm?”

For a while, neither of them said a word. All they did was smile at each other. Then Wonho began to chuckle; a low and rumbling sound. Seokjin followed suit with a slow building laugh of his own. Finally, both men were laughing loudly, their shoulders practically vibrating from the gesture.

He felt the movement before seeing it. The two men dropped their drinks, the shattering of glass lost to them as their bodies seemed to move of their own accord. Seokjin’s body shifted to the right just as Wonho’s arm thrust out to land a hit to his shoulder. Jerking his elbow up, he knocked into Wonho’s forearm and took a step forward at the same time he did. Seokjin’s arm shot out, his hand immediately clamping over Wonho’s throat seconds after he felt the blow to his ribs. The muscles in his biceps flexed, forcing Wonho’s weight to the left until the other man’s head was pressed against the glass window.

Seokjin winced at the pain blossoming at his core, causing the other man to chuckle, albeit strained from the hold the older man had on him.

“Y-You’ve gotten a little slower, J-Jin Hyung.” Wonho was in obvious discomfort, but still felt like cracking jokes.

Grinning, he dug his fingers into Wonho’s flesh just a bit more, silencing the noises coming from him. “Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know.” Seokjin felt Wonho grab at his wrist, attempting to loosen the hold he had on his neck. “Falling in love has made you weak.”

The smirk fell from Seokjin’s face, as if Wonho slapped it away. Replacing the momentary look of shock was absolute rage. He squeezed harder, watching the other man’s face change to a concerning shade of red. Seokjin took a step forward, his chest just barely pressing up against Wonho’s.

“Come again?” Wonho coughed against his grasp but Seokjin showed no signs of easing up. “You wanna run that by me one more time, Lee Wonho?”

Instead of answering, the younger man simply laughed. That simple action was enough for Seokjin as realization washed over him like a bucket of ice water. After everything he’d heard from the others, he’d allowed his guard to slip for even a second. And Seokjin was infuriated at the victorious expression painting Wonho’s features.

Goddammit, he thought, the vein at his neck pulsing in time with his ire. He glared at Wonho, wanting in that moment to give into impulse and smash him through the window. Fucking Jack Rabbit…

Taking a step back, he watched as Wonho began to cough and massage his neck. There was a distinct crunch of glass under them as they shuffled over the broken shards. Neither of them paid it any mind. Not when it was obvious that the trap, small as it was, had been sprung.

“It’s just like I thought,” the other man finally managed to croak out, a strained chuckle tacked on the end of his words, “and I told Changkyun-ah what would happen.”

Seokjin pressed a hand to his side, unable to ignore the ache of pain there any longer. “Whatever game you think you’re playing, you need to stop.”

Again, Wonho laughed. “If you weren’t going to finish the game, you never should have started playing in the first place.”

“What’d you say?”

“Did you forget, Jin Hyung? When you first showed up in Seoul all those years ago? Before the Golden Jackals even came around?” Wonho was smiling, but his tone was full of barbs. “You all turned down the offer to become a Jade Fang. One of Changkyun’s people. After getting an in and obtaining all the knowledge you needed, you spat in our faces and left to form your own group.”

Seokjin didn’t know whether to be outraged or laugh. He chose a mixture of both. “Did you think we were going to become Im Changkyun’s lackeys? ” he asked, his brows raising slightly. “Have you lost your mind?”

“We offered you a place at our table—”

“And we didn’t want it, Wonho,” Seokjin cut in, not sure of what to make of this conversation now, “we never did.”

“That’s fine,” he said easily, strolling past Seokjin, “and since Hoseok clearly doesn’t want to join hands with Changkyun, then there’s nothing else for us to really talk about.”

Seokjin turned around just as he saw Wonho heading for the door.

“Ya, Lee Wonho!”

The younger man paused, his fingers resting on the door handle. Wonho glanced over his shoulder to meet Seokjin’s gaze, his smile remaining.

“You better know where the line is.” Seokjin’s eyes narrowed severely. “Don’t even dream of crossing it.”

Instead of replying, Wonho’s grin grew, and then he exited the office – leaving Seokjin alone to feel suffocated by the silence.

…it’s almost time.

He didn’t wait for Anastasia to greet him with her warm, bubbly smile like she so often did when he came to see her. He wouldn’t let her take his coat or offer him a drink. He hadn’t bothered with teasing remarks like he usually did when they were behind closed doors.

Completely ignoring the house slippers, he kicked his shoes off in the entryway and hoisted Anastasia into his arms. She flailed, her hands pressing into his shoulders as she made every attempt to get him to slow down. In ten seconds, he already had her back pressed against the window of her apartment – his arms taking comfort in the cold emitting from the surface. The deep desire was building in Seokjin’s lips, completely overtaking her own.

Tasting her was a sin he willingly committed every chance he could get.

Whatever words Anastasia had were gone and Seokjin didn’t want to talk. He wanted to feel everything; feel her. If she wanted to talk, he would simply rob her of the ability to speak until he was ready for any kind of conversation.

“S-Seokjin,” she managed to puff out when he’d released her mouth, “w-wait a minute.”

Her mewl of protest halted him momentarily, his dark eyes boring into her deep seas of green. Anastasia looked like a deer caught in headlights and he bit back a grin. Instead, his thumb slowly traced the line of her brow all the way to her lips. Tucking the tip of it between the rosy buds, now swollen from his affection, he leaned in to further crowd her space.

“Y-You haven’t eaten yet,” Anastasia stammered, her back pressing further into the window as he, too, took a step into her bubble. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“I am.” His answer came out huskier than he’d intended, causing her cheeks to flush further.

She tried to push against him, but he didn’t move a single inch.

“T-Then let me cook already!”

Seokjin shook his head, leaning down so that his lips were barely brushing across hers. “Dinner can wait.”

Before she could protest, he was already dipping his hands under her baggy sweatshirt – his cold hands instantly warmed by her soft skin nestled beneath. She yelped from his touch and he leaned forward, whispering apologies before sealing his mouth over hers in a heated kiss. Caressing her stomach, he slid his hands around her back until his knuckles brushed over the waistband of her flannel pajama pants. He dipped them beneath, grabbing handfuls of her ass in his palms and lifting her up and against him.

She wrapped her legs around his waist without having to be asked and Seokjin grinned, giving her a good squeeze as he moved – legs slowly ascending the stairs leading to her bedroom loft. When his knees knocked against the edge of the bed, he held Anastasia against him as he leaned back, his hands moving to pull her sweatshirt completely off her torso. Goosebumps immediately peppered across her skin and he began to kiss her collar, his tongue sliding across to her shoulder until he was able to bite into the meat of the muscle there.

Groaning softly, he gently lowered her body down. Just before she was about to reach the bed, however, Seokjin pinched at the back of her calves, causing her grip to release him as she unceremoniously flopped onto the mattress. Her face screwed up in obvious displeasure, but Seokjin didn’t allow her time to issue a complaint. His hands were already at work, gripping onto the waist of her pants and yanking them off in one clean motion. Anastasia’s eyes widened and she attempted to scramble up the bed, away from him, but he was fine with that.

He preferred the hunt.

Seokjin shed his jacket and blazer with little effort on his part, leaning down to remove his socks while maintaining his gaze with the beautiful woman he’d become attached to more and more with every passing day they spent together. Even when they weren’t together, he was enraptured with her and there was an angry imp inside of him cursing Wonho for seeing it clearly when Seokjin, himself, had not bothered to give it a voice.

Love.

“Are you running from me?” he asked while slowly removing his tie. “Huh, Anastasia?”

She looked gob smacked by his question – as if she truly couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth. To be fair, he couldn’t blame her. He’d hardly been this aggressive. Ever.

Seokjin snatched her by her ankle, yanking her roughly toward him. There was a half cry, half laugh that exploded from Anastasia. He loved her laugh and he loved knowing that he was the reason for it. Once her legs were dangling on either side of him, he quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt and tossed it to the floor without a second glance. His bare torso was exposed and he could feel the chill running through the air. He pouted slightly while Anastasia seemed almost lost at looking at his body, as if appreciating it for the first time.

“You’re not poor, you know?” He watched her blink up at him, like she’d been knocked out of a trance. He slid his belt off and it, too, hit the floor. “Why do you keep being cheap about the heat?”

Anastasia’s face contorted into child-like outrage. “Ya, Kim Seokjin!”

Seokjin let his hand sail down to her underwear, his palm cupping the warmth that cropped there. He let a middle finger press into the fabric, feeling the nub that was starting to throb and grow wet under his touch. Whatever rebuttals she had were silenced as he rubbed slow, agonizing circles around her clit over the surface of her panties. He could smell her, wanting nothing more than to cover his entire body in that scent.

As he continued to rub circles around her nub, distracting her, his other hand reached down and pulled her underwear completely off her hips. She gasped, her warmth exposed to the frigid air. Seokjin dropped his trousers and groaned at the ache in his loins – his erection fighting against the confines of his boxer briefs. Anastasia reached out to grasp his forearms, unsure of what he was going to do next but silently letting him know that she was ready.

Grabbing for her waist, he flipped her over until her ass bounced in the air – watching her honey wheat locks escape from the updo she’d tied it in and spill over her back. His cold hands slid along the curve of her spine until his fingers flicked over the clasp of her bra – releasing the latch and watching the article flutter to the bed.

He watched her body shudder as she attempted to keep herself up on all fours, admiring the way her folds glistened. Her pale skin flushed and Seokjin already knew that she was becoming self-conscious. Tsking under his breath, he reached out to firmly smack her ass – watching it grow red where his hand was. Anastasia choked out a gasp, and he grinned as her fingers curled into the blankets.

“Are you acting shy? Hm?”

Anastasia whined. He knew she was unable to voice her tantrum to his outrageous question. He smacked her other ass cheek for good measure, eliciting soft, whining mewls from her.

“I’ve told you a million times already,” Seokjin whispered, his fingers sweeping down over her folds to catch the juices from her, “that you’re beautiful.”

He lifted his hand to his lips, swirling his tongue over the digits, making sure that she was watching. There was a hint of a smirk on her lips and Seokjin leaned forward, pressing his chest against her backside and feeling her velvet heat along his stomach. Shimmying out of his underwear, his erection sprung forward, rock hard and aching with desire that he knew only she could satisfy.

She knew it too.

Pressing his hand against her back, he forced her chest to rest along the bed so that her ass was up just a little bit higher. He curled inward, pressing his lips against her spine to trail kisses all the way down until he pressed his lips on both red marks on her ass. Soothing balms for the punishment he’d given her. Seokjin saw her reaching as far as she could towards the headboard, her hands finding the pillow and digging into the soft plush until her knuckles were ghostly white.

Grasping onto her hips with bruising force, Seokjin slid into her fully in one thrust – the world falling to a raw tilt that had his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Anastasia cried out in both pain and pleasure, his name falling from her lips like a litany to a deity that no longer existed but was desperately being summoned. He took his time sliding out of her, his tip just scarcely brushing along her folds, before pushing all the way in. The cadence was slow, deliberate, until he couldn’t take it anymore. The climb was harsh, nails raking along her pale skin as she continued to clutch with ferocity into the sheets and pillows – her voice muffled in the cotton while taking him every single time.

And when he couldn’t handle the pacing he was dragging them both through, when he knew she couldn’t handle it anymore, Seokjin increased speed – thrusting like a piston with precision. The spot that felt the best, the part that satisfied him, was finally within reach. He could feel her walls closing in around him, gripping with a need to keep him there – to continue hitting that spot.

So, he did.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

His chest fell across her back, their cries intermingling as their climax was reached together. Sweat soaked their bodies and the hot, musky scent of their sex filled the small space. Grasping onto her shoulders, Seokjin pulled them both to land on their sides. He stayed inside of her, the soft throb of her heat holding him there; tethering him in a way that he was in no rush to free himself from. Anastasia’s breathing eased out as he brushed her bangs away from her forehead affectionately, his other hand wrapping around her from underneath so he could keep his palm pressed between the cleft of her breasts – to feel her heartbeat.

When he was confident that she’d fallen into a light sleep, Seokjin pressed a kiss to her neck and then let his lips linger near the shell of her ear.

“…I love you.”

15 notes · View notes

needtherapy · 3 years

Text

soaring, carried aloft on the wind…continued 10

A story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 … HOME

It’s on AO3 here if that’s easier to read.

NOTES: This story starts out G but will eventually be E for Explicit.

For translations of the entirely fictitious Beifeng language, you’ll have to scroll to notes. I’m only going to translate something that’s not clear in the text. Sadly, there’s just not any other good way to do it on Tumblr!

Chapter 10

The next day dawns with perfect golden radiance, lighting a sky as blue as the eggs of the little brown catbirds that nest outside of the Cloud Recesses. It is too fine a day to spend inside, so instead of the hospital tents, Huaisang takes him and Qingyang to the fighting rings.

“Huaisang, what does ‘sent home without a horse’ mean?” Xichen asks quietly, unfortunately not quietly enough for Qingyang not to hear him. But other than a slight pause in her step, she continues walking, head up, seemingly unconcerned. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. It sounded somehow ominous.

Huaisang laughs. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s what we say. He’s going back alone, with only enough supplies to get him home, and no pay. ‘Without a horse’ is a lot faster to say. Also, he doesn’t get to take a horse, so...” Huaisang shrugs amiably.

Xichen frowns. Huaisang may not want to dwell on the previous day’s ugliness, but Xichen thinks it’s a long way back over the mountains. He’s not sure if it concerns him or pleases him.

“Will he survive?”

It is Qingyang who answers with a scowl. “Undoubtedly. He’s a...gau. Gau marai. They always find their way.”

A painfully sharp rock, one of the many fascinating swear words Xichen’s Orera vocabulary is now in possession of. It’s a remarkably apt description.

Patting Xichen on the arm, Huaisang grins, but there’s iron behind it. “She’s right. He’ll be fine, Xichen. Even if it hadn’t been you and Qingyang, no one is allowed to harm anyone we’ve given sanctuary to. It would be a bad precedent. Don’t worry about it. It’s our way. Look!”

He points ahead of him and Xichen stares. It is not fighting rings. It is a fighting arena. Unlike the two-person circular spaces Xichen is used to training in, the Beifeng soldiers are sparring in twos and threes within a single, enormous rectangle. Fighters dance in a chaotic melee through the space, using each other as screens, blocking around other fighters, and Xichen can’t imagine how they keep track of their sparring partners, much less avoid killing each other. He wants to try it so badly his feet tap in solidarity, and he has to resist imitating some of the better combinations he sees.

“Yes, I am showing off a little, but there’s a purpose, I swear,” Huaisang admits, seeing Xichen’s wide-eyed interest. “After you healed anakau, and after yesterday, we realized it might also be helpful for you to understand more about how our soldiers fight and get wounds. Since we can’t very well send you into battle, this will have to do.”

Xichen listens to Qingyang and Huaisang’s explanations and translations of the different weapons being used: long double-edged jian (iraho), single-edged swords similar to the dao he knows (ipira), curved blades he’s never seen before (ipiramotou), even pairs of daggers (maheti). He tries to pay attention to Huaisang’s dissection of the Beifeng training regime, but he’s too engrossed in watching the fighters.

The Beifeng wield their magic differently in battle, far less often than his people but with far more devastating effects. Xichen is used to the power being a part of him, and it comes through in every swing and block, but these soldiers look like they are creating magic in order to use it. They only deploy it when they have enough time to force their opponent back or when they duck around another sparring pair. Still, when they crook their fingers or draw lines in the air to pull that strange darkness into themselves, the release can send the other person flying, force them down like a heavy weight on their back, or even freeze a charging soldier in their tracks. Now Xichen is even more glad he stopped Damias before he could use this magic against him.

“Would you like to spar?”

Huaisang’s question breaks through Xichen’s concentration, and he feels a pang of loss. After their mother died, the sparring ring is where Wangji and Xichen spent most of their time together, away from memories, away from other people, away from looming responsibility. His hands long to fight, but as childish as he knows it is, he misses his sword, and he misses his brother. He tries to evade the question.

“I do not have a sword.”

Huaisang claps Xichen on the back. “Zewu-Jun, I think we can find you a sword.”

He whistles sharply to a man standing at the edge of the arena, shouting a command when the man’s head turns. Within moments, he is standing in front of Xichen, offering him his choice of jian or dao. They are both perfectly decent weapons, and Xichen’s pointlessly stubborn resistance fades. He picks them both up, considering their weight, and chooses the jian—iraho, he thinks, practicing the word—as it seems the most familiar. He can’t help smiling at the comforting feel of a sword in his hand.

“I do not have an opponent either, Huasiang. Will you spar with me?” Xichen asks, guessing that no one else will be allowed to endanger him, and they have no way of knowing just how skilled he is.

“Alas, I am no soldier,” Huaisang demurs, and there’s a hint of mischief on his face that makes Xichen immediately wary. “Anakau...Elder Brother...will be your opponent. He has been...curious.”

Xichen’s eyes close, and he considers stabbing Huaisang. When he opens them, the arena is empty except for Mingjue.

“I do not think I like you,” Xichen hisses at Huaisang, but he swallows his agitation and ignores the traitorous laughter that follows him.

Xichen stands before a solemn-faced Mingjue, aware of the crowd of Beifeng soldiers milling around the edges of the arena. He debates the wisdom of this idea, but since it was obviously Mingjue and Huaisang’s idea, he doesn’t debate it for too long.

With a polite bow, Xichen raises the sword, leaving the scabbard on. It’s a show of bravado, as only a confident swordsman wouldn’t bother to unsheath his weapon, and Mingjue obviously understands the gesture. He lifts an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth tips up as he draws the ipira from its sheath on his hip—a beautiful sword, Xichen’s expert eye notes. The blade is an unusually dark metal and the handguard is set with a deep crimson stone. Hence the title, Xichen thinks.

Mingjue taps Xichen’s sword, giving him first strike as a master would give his student. For the first time since he’s been here, giddy laughter threatens to overcome Xichen. He’ll take the advantage and see if he can surprise Ipira’orhew Ikira.

Normally in a fight against an unfamiliar opponent, Xichen would spend the start of the bout in defense, watching the person’s feet, their eyes, their reactions. But one of his greatest strengths has always been his speed, and he decides to attack immediately, darting forward and sweeping from low to high in a series of swift opening slashes. Without giving Mingjue a chance to parry or riposte, he spins, forcing a burst of power through the sword and smashing it into the other man’s blade. The strength of Xichen’s magic slams the swords together and sends Mingjue skidding backward.

Xichen doesn’t know how fast or strong Mingjue is yet, but he knows he can not afford to let Mingjue recover or use his own magic, so he chases him, throwing the scabbard as he runs and aiming a hard, flat swing at Mingjue’s midsection, forcing him to block at an awkward angle. Mingjue lifts his sword—his strength is unbelievable—hauling Xichen’s strike up into the air. But Xichen lets the momentum of the sword continue in an arc, and he ducks low under Mingjue’s ipira, angling the point of the borrowed iraho up toward Mingjue’s neck.

It’s a reckless move for a friendly bout, and Xichen doesn’t know why he’s made it. Even against his brother, who is nearly his equal, he would never have risked injury like this. But as he suspected, Mingjue is even faster and more agile than he appears, flipping backward and avoiding the hit. Still, it’s given Xichen a chance to rethink his strategy, and the moment Mingjue is back on his feet, Xichen attacks, this time swiping down and to the side in a pattern of slashes, recognizing that Mingjue will have less power on a lift than he would for an overhead block. It is so good to move, to fight, to use his gift so fully, he feels like flying. He doesn’t even care if he wins.

Xichen looks at Mingjue’s handsome face, relaxed and confident, and changes his mind. He’s definitely going to try to win.

Mingjue sidesteps the last slash—Xichen chides himself for making one too many of the same attack—and finally brings the ipira down in a bone-jarring hack that Xichen only barely blocks. Instead of sliding away as Xichen would have done, Mingjue turns his blade, letting the swords drop between them. A smile flickers in the corners of his eyes as he leans in, forcing Xichen to hold the iraho steady with two hands and all the magic he can manage against the heavier ipira and the stronger man.

This close, Xichen can see every line of Mingjue’s expression, and the hint of a smile turns into a wide grin that inexplicably flusters Xichen. He drops the block and lets himself fall backward, bending at the waist and rolling to the side to absorb the momentum. The sudden release of tension on his ipira sets Mingjue off balance and he staggers forward, but he drops to his knees and spins, crooking his fingers as he moves and throwing up a dark shield between them, blocking Xichen’s jab. Without thinking, Xichen reaches out with his own magic, throwing a golden flame into the middle of the shield. It doesn’t break the magical barrier, but it sinks in slowly, like a stone into honey. Mingue recoils like it stings the tips of his fingers, and now it’s Xichen’s turn to grin at the look on Mingjue’s face.

Mingjue only falters for a fraction of a second before he plants his feet and shoots forward, jabbing the ipira at Xichen’s side, which Xichen easily brushes away, stepping forward into Mingjue’s guard space instead of moving away and using his longer reach to attack. Mingjue’s sword slides past Xichen, and with six quick steps—spin to the side, turn behind Mingjue’s back, swing the sword in a full circle—Xichen brings the edge of the iraho to Mingjue’s neck before he can pull the ipira back to block.

“Do you yield?” he asks, more out of habit and not expecting Mingjue to understand him.

Mingjue’s sword clatters to the ground and his increasingly familiar hands circle Xichen’s waist, slide into his hair, tip his head back, and not even bothering to avoid the sharp edge of the iraho at his neck, Mingjue kisses Xichen in front of an entire army.

Without even the semblance of resistance, Xichen lets him. Not only lets him, enthusiastically encourages him, dropping his sword to twine his arms around Mingjue’s neck, immersing himself in the heat radiating from his body and opening his mouth when Mingjue rubs his thumb against Xichen’s jaw. Mingjue bites Xichen’s lip with a sound between a growl and a moan that cuts Xichen more deeply than any blade, and he stops caring about the cheering crowd and his own embarrassment.

“Xichen?” Mingjue asks against his mouth, and Xichen doesn’t allow himself to think about why his name always sounds different coming from this man or second guess the answer he knows he’s about to make.

“Yes. Ani. Yes.”

Mingjue whistles a series of notes and grins at Xichen, who has no idea what he’s doing, but can’t resist smiling too. He loses track of time in Mingjue’s dark eyes, and only bounces back to reality when Mingjue lets go of him, just long enough to expertly fling himself onto the bare back of the black horse that has suddenly appeared. He extends a hand to Xichen, giving him one more chance to decline.

The part of him that realizes everyone will know where they’re going and, presumably, what they’ll be doing, sounds like one of his father’s lectures on virtue and morality. He stifles it. His father would have given Wangji to this man with no consideration for his feelings or his future. At least Xichen has chosen his fate, and he chooses it again, reaching up and letting Mingjue pull him onto the horse.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #soaring au #nielan #lan xichen #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #luo qingyang #arranged marriage au #the untamed fic #cql fic #sexy sword fighting

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just-emotional-trash · 4 years

Text

An Outranked Romance Ch. 1

Pairings: Eventual Romantic Prinxiety, Logicality, and Remile

Story Summary: At Camp Regality, lords, ladies, and royalty alike learn the values of being a member of court in the Kingdom of Animiria. Prince Roman is thrilled at the chance to get out of the stuffy palace! Virgil, the son of a lowly Baron, is ready to leave the moment he gets there, and plans to slip through unnoticed. But what happens when a certain Princely figure won’t leave him alone?

Inspired by this post by @ironwoman359

Chapters: World-building - Next

Chapter Warning(s): Remus mention (please tell me if there are any more I need to add)

Words: 1.5k

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Virgil hated camp.

No, he didn’t mean camping in the woods (no, that’s a whole other bag of anxieties). Camp Regality is a pretentious, old fashioned camp for stuck up, entitled teenagers. He never wanted to go and resisted it until the moment his father’s butler dropped him off at the front gate. This year he put up less of a fight and was resigned to his fate. At least this time, he knew there was two people he could trust.

Virgil and Remy pulled up to the camp, although “camp” is a humble name for the campus. It is comprised of six mansions, four of which are for dorm purposes. One is for staff, and the other for activities. It was this last, and largest mansion that they walked into to sign in. The siblings walked past the chatting teenagers and the tired butlers toward the table laid out at the back of the room.

Like everything at this camp, it had to be overdone. The long wood table was draped in a gold and red tablecloth, the colors of the monarchy. Overhead of the table was the royal crest, which depicted a castle by the sea, with the sun overhead.

Remy snorted, “Gurl, you weren’t kidding! They really don’t know how to be subtle, do they?” They took a sip of their iced coffee. Virgil just smirked and nodded as he led his sibling to a stiff looking elder lady to check in.

“Name and title please?” she said with a gruff voice as they approached.

“Virgil Insomni, Baron.” Virgil relayed easily.

“Remy Insomni, Baron.” Remy copied Virgil’s response.

The woman typed something into her computer and clicked around until she found what she was looking for. “Cabin Fortune, room 208. You two are rooming together. Have fun boys.” Remy winced at the gendered reference, but said nothing as they took the key presented to them. Virgil took his own key (a bit more harshly than necessary) and they headed toward the smallest building.

Calling Cabin Fortune small wasn’t exactly accurate. All of the buildings were easily mansions in their own right, it was just that Cabin Fortune was the oldest and most in need of repair. Sometimes the toilets wouldn’t flush, and occasionally moths flew out of the closets when you opened them at the beginning of the summer. Because of this, it was the dormitory of all of the lowest class nobility. The sons of barons and viscounts found themselves here over the course of the summer.

Remy and Virgil climbed the stairs to the second floor and down the hall, until they found themselves at room 208. Remy opened the door and threw down their suitcase. “Home sweet home, I suppose!” they called out as Virgil closed the door behind them. Virgil turned around to see them face down on their bed, dark hair mussed and sunglasses thrown haphazardly to the side.

Virgil shrugged, closed the curtains and turned out the lights, and plopped down on his own bed. He proceeded to text Logan to tell him that they made it safely and pulled out his headphones to block out the depressing reality that was this camp for just a bit longer.

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A soft ding through his headphones from his phone alerted him that Logan had made it. Because of the late time, they agreed to meet at dinner, which was in half an hour. Virgil sighed and took off his beloved headphones. “Hey Remy, it’s 5:30, time to get ready for supper.” A grunt from the other party was their only reply. “Come on, if you’re late to dinner you get the crappy seconds. Get up.” They lifted their head and stared grumpily at Virgil. “Did you get any sleep?” Virgil asked softly.

Remy sighed and sat up. “No, I couldn’t.” Virgil looked at them sympathetically as they put their sunglasses back on so that Virgil could open the curtain. He walked into the attached bathroom and threw on his uniform. He then leaned into the mirror to touch up his eyeshadow, a technique he used quite effectively last year to ward off anyone who might want to approach him. Remy came in dressed pristinely in their uniform and messed with their hair until they achieved the correct level of neat and messy that they claimed was super attractive.

Virgil walked into the room to grab two pins. One that said He/Him for himself and another They/Them for Remy. The tradition of pronoun pins started two years ago with Ex-Crown Prince Remus, who was gender fluid and wore one every day. At first, the headmistress threw a fit about it, until King Thomas showed his support of the idea. Suddenly, it was encouraged. Now, most people only wear them on the first night.

The siblings exited the room just as Logan was exiting his own, right beside them. “Hello again Virgil, it’s nice to see you again.” Virgil affectionately rolled his eyes at his friend’s formal greeting and shook his outreached hand. “And this must be your,” Logan paused as he noticed their pin, ”sibling, Remy?”

Remy smiled crookedly and nodded, noticing Logan’s own He/Him badge on his chest. “The one and only! Let’s get a move on, I don’t want to miss dinner just because of you two slowpokes!”

“Just a moment Remy,” Logan stopped them. “They won’t let you in with those sunglasses, they’re really strict about the dress code here.”

“Oh don’t worry honey,” they called back, “I’ve got an excuse.” They lowered their glasses to show their bright red eyes.

Logan recoiled in shock until something registered in his brain. “You have ocular albinism.”

Remy winked before placing their glasses back on the bridge of their nose. “You hit it on the nose. I’m starving, let’s go!”

Logan turned to Virgil, who shrugged and took up after his younger sibling. Logan shook head to clear his mind of all of the too prodding questions and made a note to ask Virgil about it later. They walked to the main building and into the Grand Ballroom, where dinner was to be served. They had a seat at a table near the wall, but near the front of the room. Waiters milled about, filling water cups and chastising first years for “roughhousing”.

Logan and Virgil were making easy conversation critiquing of the all-too-eager first years and the boisterous, stuffy outfits much of the staff chose to wear for opening night. Remy was all too happy to join in, making his own snide comments about the pompous headmistress and the old-fashioned clothing she wore.

6 o’clock came and went, and just as everyone was getting restless, trumpets sounded and a herald exclaimed, “Presenting Prince Roman Sanders, and his Royal Dukes, Patton and Emile Picani!”

The prince himself enters in a fitting white and gold uniform with a red sash, followed by his two cousins in suits. The Prince waved with a blinding smile. The elder of the two dukes behind him had a light blue tie and a subdued, polite smile, while the younger had a light pink tie and looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else.

The prince and his cousins made it to the front of the room, and the headmistress began he speech welcoming the royal guests and gushing about this being the “Best year ever!” Meanwhile, the prince started looking around the room, as if getting a feel of the place. His eyes pass around the room, and rest on Virgil. They maintain eye contact for one dizzying second, then Virgil’s brain catches up with his body and realizes he was staring. He whips his head down and away from the amber eyes of Prince Roman.

To distract himself from the heat creeping across his ears, he turns to Remy, only to see them with a red face of their own. Pushing down an uncomfortable lump in his stomach that felt too much like jealousy, he nudged his sibling. “Who’s caught your eye now?” he teased.

“The duke in the pink tie... he’s beautiful.” Remy stared shamelessly at the younger duke. Virgil chuckled at his sibling’s antics and turned to Logan to see his reaction to the overdone introduction of the royal family. He looked amused and impatient, as if he wanted to headmistress to get on with it. And well, Virgil couldn’t disagree.

“Not only is the royal family oh so generous for allowing us to be blessed with the presence of their very offspring, but they also-”

Prince Roman placed a hand on the headmistresses shoulder to stop her. “As much as I appreciate this glowing speech,” he speaks as he leans over into the microphone, “these people must be awful tired of waiting for their food. I know I am!” he finishes with another blinding smile as the crowd of nobility laugh and nod.

“Yes well,” she seemed upset at her speech being cut short, but she was not one to deny the crown prince. “I suppose it would be alright if we went ahead and began dinner. Waiters! Appetizers, please.”

Virgil turns back to his table as dozens of waiters flow through the tables to deposit small dishes, the first of a six course meal, marking the beginning of another summer of uneventful camp.

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Taglist: @treasureofpriam @ghosttb0y @mostpeopleannoyne @athenashipsthings @icequeenorginal

First chapter- complete! I hope to post every Monday. So far, i have planned for about 18 chapters and a sequel? If all goes well! Feel free to send me an ask if you have any questions! Thanks for reading <3

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thestuckylibrary · 5 years

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Group Ask 133

What is a group ask?

Previous Group Asks

AO3 Search Tutorial

Please send us an ask stating which group ask and which person you are replying to. Thank you so much in advance!

kenisle said:

hi sorry to bother you. i’m looking for a fic (or fics, if there happen to be more than one) where steve can’t go in the water or swim because he flashes back to being in the ice. he and bucky live at avengers tower with the other avengers, who don’t notice. i tried looking under your ptsd tag, but i didn’t see it. thank you — all the best x

bennettmp339 and miraishu sent in drowning in the memories by itsmylifekay (oneshot | 4,752 | not rated)

Anon 1 said:

So once upon a time, I read a fic (or a series of interconnected fics) in which Bucky is an Avenger and is in a relationship with Steve. What sets this particular fic/series apart is that they fight some aliens and one of them lays eggs in Bucky's (metal!) arm, leading to a scene in a kitchen in which either Bucky or Tony burns the larva out with a blowtorch. Those are literally the only things I remember about it. (I recently reread The Murder Ballads and thought it was the one, but it isn't.)

insomnia1999 and Anon sent in We’re All Stupid When We’re Hurting by Taste_is_Sweet (oneshot | 7,983 | T)

Anon 2 said:

Hiiii! I was wondering if you guys could help me find a fic a was reading some time ago but lost. I remember Steve and Natasha were comic book artists and talked through Skype, Bucky moved into his building. Steve goes to conventions and if I recall correctly, he takes Bucky to one. I’m not really sure but Bucky went to therapy (or a vet meeting). I think Sam was Steve’s manager or boss, omg it’s a mess hahaha but if you could find it that would be dope. Thank you guys!!

mille-baci, bennettmp339, therandomravenclw, getstucky and Anon sent in To Be Vulnerable Is Needed Most Of All by perfect_plan (complete | 118,363 | M)

ship-on-sight said:

Hi! Amazing blog! Looking for a fic I read a while ago on ao3. It involved Bucky finding it hard to make decisions so he would just do whatever Steve wanted. Steve didn’t like this and decides to give him one choice to make every day and basically forces him to do it. Sam finds out and freaks but then understands. Sorry if it��s too vague, but I’d appreciate your help!!

Anon sent in By Any Other Name* by justanotherStonyfan (oneshot | 8,294 | E) *HTP, past rape/noncon

Anon 3 said:

I’ve been looking for a fic where Bucky’s internal thought process is written kinda like MS-DOS commands with two or three distinct voices that all have their own functions. At some point he tells Steve about it when one of the command voices stops responding (and it’s not Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail). I’m losing my mind, please help??

Anon sent in Ain’t No Grave (Can Keep My Body Down)* by spitandvinegar (restricted, complete | 107,076 | M) *past rape/noncon, heed the tags

yetanotherobsessivereader sent in Original Programming* by zetsubonna (oneshot | 3,478 | E) *polyamory

Anon 4 said:

Good afternoon listen I’ve been desperately searching for an alternate school or uni au where buckys list his arm and works at the library or something and steve has been crushing on him since forever but doesn’t know what to do bc bucky is broody and gloomy all the time but at the end they’re of course together so does anything pop up??

miraishu sent in I See You by IsabellaJack (complete | 7,310 | T)

Anon 5 said:

Hi! I lost the name of this fic that I LOVED. It’s on ao3 (I’m pretty sure). It’s where Steve & Bucky are in the training room of the mansion and it floods. Steve freaks out cuz ptsd and bucks is worrying and trying to comfort him. If u could find it that would be AMAZING!!

Anon 6 said:

hey i went through ur soulmate tag but couldn't find this fic — its where bucky is steve's soulmate but steve isn't his and there's a scene when bucky goes missing on a mission, nat(?) brings in steve to find him bc steve can feel where bucky is bc he is his soulmate but then the towards the end of the fic, bucky realises steve IS soulmate. i read this a long time ago and i would love to read it again. pls help me out, thanks ❤.

Anon, airybmore, dolphinqueen10, teenagemutantninjamushroom, yetanotherobsessivereader and lostthebucky sent in True North by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) (oneshot | 6,693 | T)

Anon 7 said:

Oh man I'm so desperate for this fic. Steve was adopted by Sarah on accident but she loved him right away and let him stay. He punched Bucky cuz he thought he was harrassing Nat but he wasn't. It all takes place in a little farm town and I think it's a high school AU? thanks :)

Anon 8 said:

Hello! Can you help me find the fic where Steve wakes up and Bucky doesn’t exist? Steve is the only one who can remember him because someone went back on time to kill the winter soldier? And then Steve gets a video from himself telling him hi to get bucky back? Thank you!!

abarbaricyalp, yetanotherobsessivereader and therandomravenclw sent in A Memory Like a Haunting by cobaltmoony, DarkCaustic (complete | 28,698 | E)

Anon 9 said:

Does anyone know a fic where Steve has two were forms? One is a huge dog and one is a tiny one? And one scene is pepper or someone picking him up etc cause if he jumps he’ll see under her dress or something like that?

Anon 10 said:

heyy i'm looking for an abo fic, modern setting. all i know is that bucky & steve were childhood friends, they were separated and bucky eventually became a prostitute (he has a few abortions) and reunites with steve who's about to be deployed. he ends up pregnant but they get news that steve is dead or smth and goes to the funeral with their kid. i can't for the life of me find it, sorry this is kinda long, thanks :)

awolfnamedaliac sent in missing in action; presumed dead* by moonythejedi394 (complete | 39,819 | T) */others

Anon 11 said:

Do you know that one fic where a bird hits the window and Bucky doesn’t believe Steve is Steve and he thinks he’s just another handler

Anon, airybmore, yetanotherobsessivereader and orchidsrule sent in A History of Birds by OddityBoddity (oneshot | 2,580 | G)

miraishu sent in This is the Ghost Story by Taste_is_Sweet (complete | 45,081 | T)

Anon 12 said:

I’ve been looking for a fic for a while it’s set in the 50’s I think and Bucky comes into town to live with his aunt and Steve lives with his mom and they fall in love like secretly and at the end I think they’re running to Canada or something I just can’t find it in the tags please help!

Anon and mille-baci sent in The Heart Wants* by perfect_plan (complete | 21,079 | M ) *period-typical homophobia

Anon 13 said:

Do you know a fic where Steve gets cursed/potioned/etc and develops the mentality of a dog or puppy? It was crack/humor but also mutual pining and very cute. I remember Steve describing everything as his favorite.

Anon sent in i hear that your old flame is a pure breed (the stand up and walk out on me remix) by lanyon (oneshot | 1,500 | G)

miraishu sent in Fill Your Heart Without Trying* by Kellyscams (complete | 38,580 | E) */others

#group asks

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chrsitophwaltz · 5 years

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MICKEY MEETS FC BAYERN (PART 4/4)

for the entire houston clownery experience click here

psa: if you’ve read the last 3 parts, then you know the drill. i just wanna add that i don’t know how coherent this is bc writing it drained me already. i typed it straight from my garbage brain so this is obviously NOT SAFE FOR WORK. if you’re brave or thirsty enough, or have holy water at the ready, then by all means please proceed.

*matthew mcconaughey voice* alright alright alright

we’ve reached the end, folks! it’s taken me longer than i thought to put this part out. mainly because my brain still can’t comprehend that this actually happened. y’all know that feeling where something happened and you just floated right through it then a few hours later when you’re all alone it hits and destroys you like a fucking trainwreck?

yeah, that’s what it’s been like.

so to recap:

friday: the team arrived. i was positioned nicely near the bus exit and my mind, body, and soul had been buzzing and ready for that moment. i had it all well-rehearsed too: niko steps out, i scream like a banshee for his name, he comes over-- with soft hair and glorious stubble and all-- to sign my shirt and take a gazillion pics. oh, and of course i try not to faint or drool all over him. it was almost fullproof. the problem? he never stepped out. he and thiago went straight to the airport for a press conference and were never in the team bus. i was ready to unleash death right then and there.

but oh well. all hope isn’t lost. i’m gonna be five rows behind the bayern bench the next day during the game anyway. got the tickets within an hour or so after sales opened. i can thirst to my heart’s content over him and his beautiful backside for two hours. and i had this huge ass sign ready, asking for his bottle. it’s bigger and brighter than my life. he CANNOT possibly miss that, right?

saturday: game day! i’ve been buzzing the entire morning and early afternoon. today’s the day! my first time inside a football (american) stadium too. and i was kinda nervous about my sign’s debut too. what if he does see it and give me his bottle? what would i do? do i manage to keep cool or do i smash it right into my eye socket in front of him? until now i still don’t know

so we go down to the stadium. my sign was getting some attention too. people, bayern fans and madridies alike, stopped me and asked what it meant (i had to sheepishly explain to random people that yes, i am indeed asking for his bottle, and no, y’all don’t wanna know why). some guy even got it on his video camera but idk what he did with it sjdfdjkfdjkfsfs

i got settled into my seat and h o l y s h i t i was so close to the pitch and the bench! all the drama? i got it! all the shirt-changing action? i got em too! and all the angry niko antics??? best believe they’re seared into my mind forever and ever!!!!

(dare i say, with full risk of sounding like a downright whore, the man’s got real juicy buns in the back oven. like, fuck me!!!! he’s fit as fucking fuck!!!!!!!! he also loves to whistle and scream instructions and mouth off to hansi on the bench. oh, and to randomly thrust his hips like nobody’s fuckin business!!!!!!!!)

(srsly niko, why do that???? GET OFF MY DAMN NECK!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!! my 17-year old sister was beside me and i had to be 110% a responsible, sane adult!!!!!!! even the guy sitting behind us eventually caught on to my thirst since he saw me filming niko the whole duration of the game sddbsjfdjfnsm)

anyway, niko LOVES to hydrate and he probably finished around 4-5 bottles of water. at one point he looked over at where i was and i’m sure as h e l l he saw my sign (it was a huge ass board). but guess what? it’s like he knew just how desperate i was and kept on sexily chugging. god fucking dammit, niko!!!!

y’all know what happened to all those bottles? NOTHING! they’re just piled up on the bench never to be used again. i was right there, niko! A CRUMB! just one fuckin crumb was all i asked for!!!!!!!!!!!! he could’ve thrown that bottle straight at my fuckin face and i would’ve THANKED him

the game ended, we won, and NO BOTTLE. a bitch was sad!!! a bitch was going STIR CRAZY!!!!! the team only had one day left before they left for kansas city. i’ve been trying to get info on how to get into the practice session so i can see him and all the boys. but of course! the training session might as well be in secret because it’s invite-only!!! even the paulaner bbq event was closed. the only events that were open were the mall meet-and-greets. but those wouldn’t have niko or the rest of the boys in them.

please bear in mind again that i decided to shell out extra just to make that one day extension happen.

i had to see the entire team. i needed to experience niko up close. if i don’t get to do this now, then god knows when i’ll get the chance to do so again.

so, driven by desperation, i made a totally uninformed decision to go to the hotel at some random time the next day. ultimately, it was either the hotel or the carl lewis track. i figured the hotel would be a safer bet since i’d been there before and it was closer to the mall where the meet-and-greets would be (just in case the worst happened and i failed to catch them before they left for practice or wherever).

hotel or track? hotel.

what time? probably 8:30.

did i know what i was doing? absolutely fucking not.

but hey, couldn’t hurt, right? it was bonkers. truly bananas. but what choice did i have? in the end, i just wanted to be able to tell myself that i tried.

sunday:

i’ve been thinking about what to call this part. here’s some of what comes to mind:

1. crazy binch follows crazy idea and it works? it’s more likely than you think!

2. if you like it (i LOVED it) then you should’ve put a ring on it (I MCFUCKIN DID!!!!! in my head at least sksdjfksdfsdfh)

3. the day kathleen krüger probably wanted my head on a spike (and i don’t blame her)!

so the events from parts 1 and 2 happened. saw and greeted kathleen krüger in decent german. it was going pretty well. somewhere in there, during the sven/leon mishap, it finally happened. the moment that i’ve been waiting for. perfection!

*record scratch* eh, not really.

look, i’m 5′3 (and 1/2, i’m gonna insist on that). leon is 6′2. sven is about 6′3 or 6′4? anyway, y’all get it. they’re tall af.

and niko? a very sexy 5′9.

so in the haze of mortification and embarrassment brought about by the sven/leon mishap, i completely missed niko going out of the hotel. the binch literally had to be positioned in between sven and leon and all the other tall german people milling around the hotel. my ass had been on alert for him nearly the entire week (and let’s be real, for months) and when the moment finally presented itself, it completely flew over my head. i nearly ruined my own damn plan.

thankfully though, i’d been chatting with the bayern staff earlier and they knew that i’d been waiting this whole time to meet niko. i wondered out loud, “ugh, when is niko gonna show up he’s usually one of the earlier ones” and the guy in the red audi fcb tour polo shirt frowned and said “what? he literally just went out. didn’t you see him?”

my world literally stopped. i wanted to slap myself. my ears were ringing.

niko, already out? how could i have missed him? had he already gone up the bus???

i literally did a 360 so fast i gave myself whiplash and saw through the glass doors the man i’d been waiting forever for. he was clad in his blue coach kit of shirt and shorts. i could also swear he was glowing like an angel (probably bc of the bright sun or the product of my thirst-addled brain, idk).

there was another problem, though: he wasn’t stopping. he was going straight for the bus. and his leggies were f a s t.

and where was i? still frozen in shock inside the freaking hotel!!!!

i’m not the fastest person in the world but man, adrenaline really does work wonders! thank goodness my brain chose that moment to regain its function and spurred my body into motion. with no fucks left to give, i ran full tilt through the throng of people leisurely heading out, past the security guards who looked at me like i was insane (i was), out of the hotel and into the courtyard where there were about 50 or so fans behind the barriers who had gathered to catch a glimpse of the team.

it was like everything was in slow-mo. there was kathleen, patiently standing near the bus door and taking inventory of the players and staff before they leave. and there was niko, with literally one foot lifted to go up the first step into the bus.

my brain did a quick calculation. even with adrenaline, he’d already be up and inside the bus by the time i get to where he was. they may have let me inside the hotel, but i knew the bus was off limits. i had to stop him before he’s out of reach. and i knew that if i missed him, then that would be the absolute last time i’d see him in houston. that was my last chance.

i already had one foot dipped into the proverbial pool of shame. i was vaguely aware that i had the hotel staff stationed near the door and some fans looking at me bc of my marathon sprint antic. why not just take the full plunge, right?

so i did the only thing i could do to stop him: i screamed for him. throat open, full diaphragm, lungs out screamed: “NIKO! NIKO PLEASE!” my voice and the desperation that it was absolutely dripping with echoed within the walls of the hotel entrance.

i don’t even know the others’ reaction to that anymore, and i don’t really wanna know. all i know was that it worked! he stopped and turned around to look. and god was he. so. beautiful!!!

overjoyed that he paused, i ran straight towards him. there was a body in front of me that i barely dodged in my haste and i belatedly realized it was the team photographer taking shots of the departure. i nearly bowled him over and destroyed his expensive camera but thankfully i somehow managed to do a the matrix-esque maneuver and ducked under his arms and up again straight back to niko. the look on my face must’ve been shocking and horrific (i bet) because as i zoomed in on niko, i saw poor kathleen just behind him, still near the bus door, go tense with her eyes as big as saucers.

look, i understand. if i were the team manager of a popular football team, and some woman was running straight for one of my charges, with A Certain Look on her face, and with the bus door wide open, i’d be worried af. she probably thought i was gonna attack niko (somewhat true, but not in the way she thought...or was it?) and/or infiltrate the team bus. my intentions were pure (ish), of course, but my face didn’t reflect that.

the Queen knew martial arts and could’ve karate-kicked me off the face of the earth and away from niko, but she didn’t. so thank you, kathleen. and i apologize.

safe from kathleen’s wrath (for now), i turned my full attention to niko. i was finally in front of him!!!!! my dream had finally come true!!!!!!!!!!!

my brain and my soul were trying to leave my body and i wasn’t really 100% percent in the moment, but even with the little presence of mind i had left it was too much to bear. niko looked a bit perplexed, like i might attack him or something (with the way i looked, ran, and shouted like an animal i totally get it), but still managed to look relaxed, open, and friendly. he looked at me expectantly and i felt my mouth move to ask for an autograph and my hands give him my cardboarded jersey and sharpie. i wasn’t in control of my body anymore but thank god it knew exactly what i wanted.

niko, a true angel sent down from the heavens above, gracefully took my shirt and sharpie. i’m pretty sure my mouth was wide open and probably had some drool hanging off, and i could feel kathleen’s stare boring holes into the side of my head. as he was signing it, my last few brain cells were roasting.

his hair was soft and ungelled, and was damp (he looked like he recently just came out of the shower) and as his head was bent down, That Stray Lock of Hair flopped into his forehead. it nearly made me pass tf out!!! the sun was also shining brightly and his stubble was already silvery (thanks to bayern’s season of clownery!) so when the light caught it, it literally shone. each strand was literally p e r f e c t i o n. perfect length, perfect texture (from the looks of it; i didn’t dare touch no matter how much i wanted to bc thankfully i still had one fragile shred of dignity left, and i’m sure kathleen would’ve brought out the shotgun), perfect everything. i was about to have a coronary right then and there.

i’ve thought a lot about what i wanted to say to him if i did get the chance to meet him and talk to him. i remembered all the highs and lows of last season and as he finished signing my shirt, i thanked him and said “good luck, niko. and don’t listen to everything they say; you’ll always have people to stand behind you and the team no matter what.” at least that’s what i thought i said. i don’t really remember bc i was half spaced out. but i must’ve said something to that effect bc he looked up from what he was doing and gave me a big, and dare i say, relieved (?), smile. god, his eyes. they were so green. and soft. and really, really kind.

he was probably surprised that i said that to him, what with my earlier crazed stunt. but of course, ever the gentleman, he said “thank you so much” G O D!!!! HIS ACCENT!!!!! if you haven’t heard him speak in english yet, or just speak at all, now’s the time to google that shit. it’s deadly af on video, but goddamn, like everything else about him in person, it’s truly something else live.

mercifully, when he gave me back my shirt and pen, i still had enough life left in me to ask for a picture before i finally passed out. i never would’ve forgiven myself if i forgot!!!

me: thanks again, niko. is it alright if we take a picture?

niko: sure, of course! (god i love him; also, he loves to say “of course” for some reason sjkdhfdfjsdkfh)

so i had my shirt and sharpie in my left hand, and was trying to work my phone with my right hand. niko sidled up real close to my left side and HOLY FUCKING SHIT. he was so warm. and his arm was f i r m. he was leaning really close and my brain was short-circuiting from trying to memorize every single detail and trying to work my phone camera.

(note: my lock screen is niko drenched in beer after they won the bundesliga. thankfully, i turned off my phone’s auto lock just the night before. imagine if he saw me trying to unlock my phone with his wet self plastered on my screen. i never would’ve survived the shame.)

as i was skin on skin with niko, my organs were literally failing. my hands were shaking and sweating, and my camera just. wouldn’t. set. on. photo. it went to video, to slow mo, to god knows what else. it was already getting embarrassing and i was mumbling apologies to niko bc i was sure i’d already taken more than enough of his time. and i haven’t forgotten that kathleen was still there! still staring at us, at me, and witnessing every single mortifying thing!!!!

niko, literally heaven itself incarnate, was so patient though and just chuckled. oh. fuck. me. his chuckle. y’all know his voice is deep af, right? and you know that certain r a s p that comes with it. well, fuck. he did this deep ass raspy chuckle that went straight down to my loins!!!!! christ on a bike!!!! my inner whore was literally about to jump out!!!!! i’ve fantasized about hearing it in person for so long but jesus fucking christ I WASN’T READY. ALL THIS TIME AND MY BODY STILL WASN’T READY!!!! AND I’M DAMN SURE IT WILL NEVER BE READY!!!!!!!!! NO ONE IS READY FOR THIS ATTACK!!!!!!!!

g o d. anyway, he finally took pity on me. he chuckled (i’m on the brink of death here!!!) and reached for my phone to help me take the goddamn photo. he set it on photo (freaking finally, thanks niko) and we posed for the photo. hell, he was so close again. while i tried to smile and look somehow decent, i just had to take away as much detail as i could before we parted.

1. i already said this, but his h a i r. so soft. and houston was freaking humid. while mine was literally about to turn into a bird’s nest from the humidity, the man just couldn’t look fugly if he tried!!! he literally had NO FRIZZ. damn niko, tell me your secret!

2. his stubble was SO CLOSE. every strand? PERFECTION. no words could adequately describe it. and holy shit, his jawline and cheekbones. if i touched it i could literally lacerate my goddamn hand. and he had no pores??? fucking sexy cryptid

3. his c h u c k l e (he wasn’t chuckling anymore, but that shit stays with you till the end of time)

4. HIS S C E N T.

okay. i have a scent kink. i know. TMI. like this whole write up is one big banner for too much fuckin information. but holy shit. HOLY S H I T. until now i still don’t know how to fully describe, and i probably never will succeed in fully conveying what it was truly like (and if my brain embellished some of it; i was really too far gone to know anything anymore), but fuck. f u c k. he wasn’t wearing perfume or cologne, i’m sure of that. nothing too artificial that stood out to my nostrils. probably bc they were going to train under the houston sun and spritzing was wasted and unnecessary. but remember that he was fresh from the shower, so that was basically his main scent. it was very nice, very crisp, very clean. basically, sexy as hell. classy. panty-melting!!!! hell, i don’t know!!!! you know what i mean!!! idk if it’s from the hotel toiletries (if it was, good job post oak hotel!) or if it’s his own (then i need to know niko! what products do you use???). but yeah. clean and crisp. d***y supreme.

and there was also something else. it must’ve been his natural scent. and god. GOD!!!! a bit woodsy (?) and quite sweet. i’ll stop there before i say something that REALLY crosses the line.

so my thumb moves, and we take the photo. ONE FREAKING PHOTO. that’s all i managed. i wasn’t able to look at it until my uber ride to the mall later on, and i really would’ve liked more to take with me and stare at when i’m....lonely. but it was magically HDR, and i looked passable. and niko. again: perfection!!!! now that i know what he’s like in the flesh, nothing else will ever come close. but this does come quite close.

after the photo was taken, i manage to squeak out another “thanks.” niko smiled again (kill me one last time, why don’t you) and squeezed my arm lightly before saying goodbye and finally going up the bus. kathleen could breathe a sigh of relief now.

i don’t know how long i stood there. surely not that long since i still got to take pics with serge, manu, and lewy. but it did feel like forever and i haven’t shaken myself out of it. as i’m writing this, exactly one week later after it happened, i still haven’t shaken myself out of it. i don’t think i ever could.

i’m just thankful to whichever deity made this happen. my houston trip was finally complete (i haven’t met everyone yet at that point, but i just somehow knew deep inside that it would all work out). i got what i came for and more. my extension was not only worth it, but completely priceless. i’ll treasure this whole day and that little moment i got with niko for the rest of my life. that’s for sure.

just to end this, i just wanna say something. i know this was one whole crazy and thirsty post, but seriously. he’s a really nice man. a good man. it wasn’t for more than a few minutes at most, but it felt like forever in my mind. and in that short moment, i just knew he tries his best. i’m a true blue niko stan but even i know he made mistakes. i’m clearheaded enough to acknowledge that. but he tries, and he succeeded. and no matter how calm and cool and collected he always appears to be, you can still see how much it all affects him. hell, he literally grayed in front of our eyes in less than a year. his eyes were a little less bright at the end of the season as compared to his presentation last july. when i gave him that little message of support, i literally saw the relief in his eyes and how much he appreciated it. he and the team have been through quite the ordeal last season, and there are no guarantees it will be easier this time around.

you don’t have to like him, you know. but please. a little basic human respect still goes a long way.

there, i said my piece. and it’s done! thank you, fc bayern, for being so nice and game and all-around wonderful. thank you, kathleen krüger, for staying calm long enough to let me have my moment with niko. and thank you, niko, just for being... you. now here’s the ONE picture i’ll treasure for the rest of my life:

#here it is!!!! it sounds like bad fanfic but it's been so surreal and this is really what it felt like for me don't judge me too harshly pls #niko kovac #niko kovač #fc bayern #bayern munich #fcb #*my crappy shit #mickey meets fcb #my god it's finally done #i'll never do it justice but i really tried #g o d someone just scrape my carcass off the floor thanks #i still can't function properly and i don't think i ever will #on july 21st in the year of our lord 2019 i finally met the love of my life and since then my life has never known peace!!!!!!!!!#B Y E!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#also excuse the typos i'm so drained i can't even proofread anymore

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