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hockeywhy · 3 years

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caught in the middle (1); m. barzal

SYNOPSIS: For the sake of your friend’s wedding with Tito, you and Mat agree to maintain the facade of still being the happy couple everyone sees you as. But the act comes with its consequences, one more taxing than the other. WARNINGS: language. WORD COUNT: 11.2k A/N: I am so excited for this because it contains some of the tropes I enjoy seeing in fics, and I was dying to also put out some new content as opposed to only reposting my old writing. I wish I wrote this when I was still decent at doing the thing, but I hope that this is still an enjoyable read that makes you look forward to the next part! Title is based off Alexander 23′s Caught in the Middle which is such a good song and I really recommend. Sections in italics represent flashbacks.

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

“We’re getting married!”

You gasped, bringing both hands to cover the lower half of your face as your jaw dropped at the announcement. It shouldn’t be so surprising – you would’ve bet even your most prized possession that this was bound to happen at some point eventually – but knowing this was actually now a sure thing sent a thrill through you. It didn’t take long for the shock to wear off and in place of it, your expression mirrored that of your best friend’s: the wide grin, the bright eyes and of course, the giggles of sheer excitement as soon as the news sunk in. Elise was glowing and next to her, Tito embodied the idea of what the world’s proudest man would look like.

“Oh my god!” you gasped, and Elise burst into laughter, not hesitating to jump out of her seat at the same time you did so that the two of you could embrace. Among your squeals and giggles, you could faintly make out the sound of hands being clapped, then caught sight of Mat and Tito hugging. Over Elise’s shoulder and over Tito’s, you and Mat exchanged smiles and you couldn’t help the chuckle that left your mouth as soon as he winked at you. “Congratulations!” you said as soon as you broke apart, though the two of you still held hands. Immediately, your gaze fell down to her hand where a ring now rested, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you hadn’t taken notice of it earlier. “Just—when? How? Where? Who else knows?”

“We don’t have a date or venue set yet, but we wanted you and Mat to be the first to know,” Elise informed you as soon as you took your seats again.

“We have a favour to ask from both of you,” Tito supplied. As soon as he said it, you felt Mat’s hand wrap around your own and the two of you exchanged a brief look during which he squeezed your hand gently, before diverting your attentions back to the soon-to-be newlyweds.

Newlyweds. The immensity of the word sent a discrete shiver down your spine.

“I can’t imagine asking this of anyone else: I want you to be my best man,” Tito directed at Mat.

“You shouldn’t even think of asking this of anyone else,” Mat responded immediately, and the two shook hands on it. You couldn’t help but think that if they weren’t as comfortable as they were now, they’d probably hug again, do their typical pats on the back or fist bump as they usually did, but Elise’s head now rested on Tito’s shoulder and Mat’s hand was so warm, so firm atop your own.

“Be my maid of honour, please?” Elise asked. “I can’t think of anyone more suitable than you and Mat as best man and maid of honour. We’ll return the favour of course,” she added playfully.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you warned without hesitating because after all, you had no reason to – and you knew Mat would agree with you.

Although the two of you hadn’t touched on the subject yet, there was an unvoiced knowledge shared between you that eventually, this would also be you. Eventually, Mat would ask you and your heart would grow and your soul would warm, and you would say yes. Yes, yes, yes.

As you all settled down to hear a replay of how Tito popped the question and Elise accepted the ring, Mat’s thumb began caressing the back of your hand. Though the gesture wasn’t a novelty, you couldn’t help but take notice of the way your heart fluttered each time he seemed to linger more on your ring finger. It wasn’t difficult to imagine a ring wrapped around it but neither of you were in a rush: you simply waited for the right time to take your relationship to a point in which it would become a forever thing, fully confident it wasn’t a question of ‘if’ but rather, ‘when’.

This was anything but the right time.

You frown as you cast a glance down at the phone resting on your lap, eyes narrowing a little at the name which brought the display to life for the second time in the space of less than a minute. You click the side button twice, silencing the vibrations of it and from your side, your colleague leans in to whisper to you.

“You can take it if it’s urgent. I’ll fill you in afterwards.”

“Thanks,” you whisper back. “I think it can wait until the meeting wraps up though.”

Luke gives you a well, if you’re sure look as he leaned back in his chair and you flash him a grateful smile.

Still, it is difficult for you to settle comfortably in your seat again and much to your chagrin, you find yourself crossing and uncrossing your legs as if the call had sent some sort of signal to your entire body kickstarting jitteriness you can honestly do without. Not long after you find some comfort and energy to draw yourself back to the present, your phone buzzes again – only once this time, indicating a message.

I’m waiting for you in the lobby.

Fuck, you curse inwardly, locking the phone in frustration. As quietly as you can, you gather your notebook and work tablet then lean in towards Luke who met you halfway. “Have to run but let me know if I miss anything important.”

“At the current rate, I wouldn’t count much on it but will do anyway,” he states as quietly as he can and the two of you exchange sly, conspiratorial smiles before you excuse yourself quickly and very quietly while making a swift exit.

Internally, a string of curses follow without a break in between, and you have to physically bite down on your lip out of sheer fear one might unconsciously slip out. If anyone would be in your shoes, though, they wouldn’t blame you for it. You are the type of person to stick closely to any plans and agreements made, so the fact that he just chose to turn up so unexpectedly doesn’t sit right with you. Not anymore, that is. Besides, you had both agreed to do this after your workday ended as opposed to midday and definitely not in this place. Now, you have to brace yourself for coping with a foul mood on top of whatever else the rest of the day would throw at you.

“You’ve got a visitor,” Rachel announces quietly in a sing-song voice from behind the reception desk as you approach. She doesn’t bother masking the giddiness in her tone and you struggle to work up as genuine of a smile as you can when she nods her head towards the waiting area.

“Thanks, Rach.”

“Bet he must be so happy your redeployment to the Baltimore offices was cut short so quickly,” she coos.

“Sure is. We’re still on for tonight?” you ask quickly in an attempt to drive attention away from the subject before she can try to lead into it too far for your own comfort at the moment.

Rachel’s smile falters a little, her expression somewhat quizzical. “Don’t you want to postpone so you could spend some time with him? You only just got back yesterday, after all.”

You swallow uncomfortably before shrugging. “We’ve got plenty of time to do that. So tonight, okay? I’ll catch you later.”

“Your call. See you then, Y/N!”

You only had just a split second to brace yourself for what is ahead of you, so you draw in a breath then slowly exhale it as discreetly as you can while cutting your way across the lobby. Since agreeing to this meeting, you prepared yourself as best as you could, imagining every single scenario and devising the appropriate plan for it: from the way you presented yourself to what you said, you had a mental plan for everything including a few backups just in case. The only thing you hadn’t factored in, apparently, was how little was under your control and you hated that. Each step you take made you feel less and less prepared for what is ahead, and the thought rattles you. If you were swift enough on your feet, you could just about make a quick turn and dip into the hallway leading to the visitor restrooms. All you need is just a few more seconds. A little alone time for you to run over your lines in your head.

Except—

Mat looks up at the same time you take a step sideways, ready to bolt towards temporary safety. His eyebrows rise a little as if surprised by the sight of you, but you refuse to appear outwardly deflated by the turn of events. Instead, you square your shoulders, tip your head back a little and arch an eyebrow. You can do this. You note he is dressed casually, and his hair is pushed back underneath a black cap.

Unless there was a change in schedule, Thursdays were scrimmage days.

Your jaw clenches ever so slightly as you recall that with so much ease. Then again, you basically built up a collection of information that was practically helpful or useful to exactly no one over the course of the past few years. It’ll probably take just as much or maybe more to replace that with something different, so you try cutting yourself some slack whenever you are willing to.

“I thought we agreed on five thirty,” you state coolly, pitching your voice at just the right tone to also express surprise.

Mat pushes up from the armchair, returning whatever magazine he’d picked up back on the nearby glass table. “Sorry, I tried calling earlier this morning to ask if we can reschedule but it went straight to voicemail.”

Oh. You mentally curse yourself for not charging your phone as soon as you made it home from the airport the previous night or bothering to check the voicemail message you’d been notified of once it did begin charging earlier this morning at your desk.

“They rescheduled the viewing of the new arena for this evening, and I was in the area, so I thought I’ll drop by just in case,” Mat continues, throwing a cursory glance around the place though to you, it seemed more like a way of having a break from the eye contact. You don’t complain; you welcome that.

You open your mouth, ready to berate his poor timing but even you could admit you carry some fault here too. Only a little. You bite down lightly on the tip of your tongue, before nodding towards the seats though you didn’t wait for Mat; you sit, deciding he could make up his own mind if he wanted to follow or not.

“How was Baltimore?” he asks after a few moments of awkward silence while settling in the same armchair he previously occupied.

“Mat,” you say, hoping it comes across as more of a warning than a plea. You can’t deal with small talk and a part of you thinks that’d make the entire deal even more difficult to go through with. He presses his lips together into a thin line and you take that as your sign to continue. “Elise told me she’d like us to be at the venue a day in advance of the rehearsal dinner if we can. I’ve already arranged my leave for that, so it’s not a problem for me. I’m planning on making my way there sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

“We can go together then. I can pick you up after work.”

“There’s no need—”

“Y/N.” The sharpness of his tone catches you off guard and you can swear Mat was equally surprised by that, though only for the briefest of moments. He slides forward a little in the seat almost as if he is more than ready to leave but Mat has never been one to back down so easily and you doubt any of that changed during the course of the past three months or so. “You were the one who insisted we go through with this and I’m trying. I really am, but you’re not giving me anything to work with. So please. Let’s just put everything to the side, do what we need to do and then it’s done.”

Done. Like it is a task, like it is something you needed to cross off a to-do list, scrunch it up then trash it.

The finality of the word is so heavy that it feels as if it had managed to knock out all the air in your lungs. You and Mat were running headfirst towards a fork in the road, and deep down you knew that was truly it. If until now the two of you have been dancing around each other, playing pretend as if you were kids living in a world of fantasy, you know that eventually, you have to let light shine on the truth: whatever lay ahead, you and Mat could no longer walk the same paths. It is just a matter of admitting it not only to yourselves, but also to the people you were lying to.

Lying for, you prefer.

Defeated, you slump in your own seat a little, legs crossing and fingers tapping lightly against the back of your notebook. “Be at my place by two. I’ll have everything that I need ready the night before so we won’t need to wait around.” A pause, and then, “how’s Tito?”

Mat lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Excited. Nervous. It’s the only thing he talks about in the locker, outside of it, on ice and off ice. How’s Elise?”

“Same deal with her. I never knew there were so many shades of blue before, but I’ve been proven wrong before.”

A pause follows that could easily be attributed to the group of people rushing into the building and allowing noise from the street outside to filter in while the doors were kept open, but you can tell there is more to it than that if you are to go by the shift in Mat’s expression. His expression changes and you find you can’t quite read into it or guess what could be going on through his head. You try not to focus much on the little voice inside your mind that was bothered by it but find it takes a considerable amount of effort to do so. Force of habit, you conclude.

“You don’t say,” Mat finally responds. There is a hint of accusation in his tone. Or regret. Maybe both.

Your lips press together firmly, a light frown forming on your face but chose to let that slide. Not only is the lobby of your workplace the least suitable place to have an argument about the two of you, but you find that even those short moments of seeing Mat face to face months after you called it quits appears to take a toll on you. You feel tired, worn out and willing to be the first one to back down for once.

It is cruel irony that a big red neon EXIT sign is visible from the corner of your eye.

You release a quiet, long sigh then stand up from the seat. “Well, I guess we’re done here? I do have another meeting to prepare for, so…” You trail off, already backing away a few steps.

Mat opens his mouth as if ready to say something else but promptly presses his lips together, deciding against it. He gives a swift nod of his head then stands up. It’s then you notice the two Styrofoam cups in front of him and the neon EXIT sign imprinted in your mind starts flashing temptingly at you. Mat is a step ahead. He holds out one of the cups towards you and you are ready to tell him off for it, but he cut in.

“Thought I wouldn’t drop by empty handed.” When you don’t make a move to accept it, his eyes briefly peek behind you. “Rachel’s all eyes this way, by the way,” he informs you and a brief glance over your shoulder confirms Mat hasn’t been lying.

As soon as you turn to look towards the reception desk, Rachel grins, waves quickly at you then turns back to her computer screen. Begrudgingly, you accept the cup of coffee and force a tight smile.

“See you soon,” you say by way of greeting and didn’t wait to hear a response from Mat.

It isn’t until you scan your pass to cross the security barriers and make a turn out of sight that you take a sip from the drink and almost immediately wish you didn’t. It’s your order to a T. The two of you even brought a coffee machine that would let you replicate it on days when you didn’t feel like leaving the comforts of your apartment, especially days when Mat didn’t need to get up early for practices or scrimmages or evening games. It stayed with Mat when you left and the memory left a bitter taste in your mouth, despite the gentle sweetness of the beverage.

Without thinking twice, you throw the cup in the nearest trash can.

As soon as your order is set on the table, you ignore the basket of fries and reach straight for your glass to take a long sip from the straw, letting out a content sigh as soon as you felt satiated enough.

“Long day,” you state in response to Rachel’s raised eyebrows but she seems to accept that by raising her own glass. You clink yours against hers, take a smaller sip then set it back down on the table. “What time do you think you’ll make it over to the hotel?”

“Well, I was thinking of trying to get there by midday on the day of the rehearsal dinner but it’s starting to look more like late afternoon. I’m…” She trails off, and you can just about pick up on her hesitation and the way her gaze shifts over to the side momentarily as if avoiding something or considering whether to continue that. You move in your seat, peeling your back away from the plush backrest to lean in a little closer.

“You’re…” you trail off, voice peaking just a little into a question in an attempt to prompt her to continue.

Rachel takes a deep breath in, shoulders visibly drooping and when she looked back at you, she did so with a look that could only reflect…shame? Embarrassment?

“Luke and I are sort of thinking of coming along together.” At the sight of your widened eyes, she quickly adds, “just as friends! We’re still working out through a few things and we’re taking it slow. As in, much, much slower than the first time around.”

“No way! That’s… Rach, that’s so good. I’m happy for you both, seriously.”

You find that you truly believed that, though it wasn’t a surprise to you. You had introduced Rachel to Luke while she visited you in Baltimore and at the time, he worked with you there also. Initially, you didn’t think much of it - you simply invited her to come along to a few after work drinks and the two kicked it off easily that night. Very easily apparently, because as the night started coming to an end, Rachel prompted you to go ahead without her. Ready to say you weren’t going to leave her own her own, you shortly found out exactly why: you watched with plenty of amusement and fascination as she and Luke climbed into a taxi together and whizzed off to his place, undoubtedly. That was pretty much their start and continuation. Her visits to Baltimore were more frequent and though you were seeing her often enough, it definitely wasn’t as much as Luke saw of her. And you were fine with that. They fit almost perfectly and it only took a few more meetings for them to label themselves as a couple.

Things began crumbling as soon as Luke had moved to the New York office just a few weeks before your own return. While he seemed fine with the idea of Rachel working in the same place, that wasn’t also her take on things.

“It’s weird,” she told you through the phone. “It just… It’s so weird. I’d be seeing him at my place or his and in the office? No thanks. That’s way too much for me, you know?”

It made sense, of course, and though you rooted for them, you didn’t want to push her into something she wasn’t comfortable with. Yet, there was a tremble to her voice, a sort of uncertainty that made you think otherwise. It wasn’t that Rachel didn’t have any feelings for him - maybe she was simply shocked to see him walk through those glass doors one morning to pick up his brand new ID and claim what would soon become his permanent desk across from yours.

“Thanks,” she tells you, pulling you back into the present. “But like I said, slow and easy does it. We’ve been talking more and that makes a huge difference.”

“For sure. If communication isn’t the backbone of a relationship, I don’t know what is,” you agree and wasn’t that ironic? You’re hardly in the position of giving any relationship advice at all or saying what is good for one and what isn’t. Not anymore. Not when your own had fallen apart.

Rachel grins. “You’d know. You and Mat have been together for… how long now?”

You should’ve seen it coming a mile away. You swallow uncomfortably, take another sip of your drink and take a few fries just to buy yourself a little more time. “Maybe four years? Don’t really keep track of that anymore,” you said as casually as you could muster, lifting your shoulders in a shrug.

“I think I’d stop doing that eventually too at the rate you two are going. Honestly, I would’ve bet anything you would’ve been the first to tie the knot. Actually, thinking about it,” she says, clicking her fingers in recollection, “Elise said the same thing to me the other day when we caught up on the phone. She went—“

You don’t really register her words. There is a low ringing in your ears and an uncomfortable draft sweeps in the locale as the entrance door somewhere behind you is being kept open, no doubt a large group making their way in; it sends shivers down your body, but really, you are pretty sure you can’t only attribute them to a brief gust of wind. After all, your sweater is keeping you sufficiently cosy and warm. In front of you, Rachel continues praising your relationship with Mat, talking about how anyone took a look at you both and would say, whatever they have going, I want it too and you are trying so, so hard to block out as much as you can of it. You can stop her, of course; distract her with whatever random topic and you know she’d go with it but your jaw is locked in place, teeth clenched uncomfortably. You blame that and the way your nails dig into the palms of your hands on the sting behind your eyes and the sudden heaviness weighting down on your chest.

It isn’t so much the pain of your relationship ending that was rendering you in a state of daze, but the shame of what you and Mat agreed to do: pretend the two of you were still the happy couple Elise, Tito and everyone else thought of you as just to not spoil whatever luck they thought you’d be passing on to them by being their main witnesses. And then, once the event passes and they would return to New York from the honeymoon you and Mat would soon gift to them on their wedding day, you’d tell them the truth. Or part of it anyway. Definitely no mentions that the two of you were childish enough to play pretend; just a simple, clean break timed just perfectly with your request to be permanently redeployed elsewhere. Preferably, as far from New York City as possible so that you no longer have to walk the streets you once both did or yearn to once again visit that perfect pie place the two of you once dubbed your own.

“We’re not together anymore.”

The words stumble out of your mouth in a desperate now or never manner. Despite the anxiousness that came with the act, you find relief in it also. It feels freeing to be able to admit the truth to someone that isn’t only yourself though perhaps you should’ve thought of this more carefully: the idea of now needing to come fully clean to Rachel is somewhat daunting, mostly because of what she might say in response to the front you and Mat are trying to uphold. But for the first time in what feels like too long, you no longer feel like a fraud; like a person lying to everyone around them.

“Wait.” Rachel frowns, and it was obvious she doesn’t quite know what to do with that information or how to best process it. Her head tilts a little, palm idly rubbing against the side of her neck so you take the initiative to come across as unbothered by this as possible by leaning into the seat, legs crossing as you fiddled with the drink’s straw. “What? I’m confused. Didn’t Mat just drop by earlier? You two seemed okay. He was…fine when he came in. We didn’t talk much, sure, but he was all smiley and just…normal.”

You laugh quietly and shortly. “It’s been a while now. Maybe two or three weeks before I left for Baltimore, I think. It’d be pretty worrying if he was still hung up about it. After all, we both agreed on it. And this,” you add, a little more disheartened and embarrassed. “This…thing we’re doing. We promised Tito and Elise we’ll be there for them on their big day and we will. But they had this… I guess, idea of us being an ideal couple. Whatever that is,” you continue more quietly and with a roll of your eyes. “He wanted to tell Tito, but I didn’t want to spoil Elise’s day, you know? So he agreed. Took some convincing because it feels so… Gosh, it sounds so stupid, doesn’t it? Pretending we’re still together just to spread some fake cheer around.”

“Oh, honey…” Rachel whispers and you read the sympathy in her voice. Not that she makes it particularly difficult to take note of. “But… I thought everything was okay. Actually, way more than okay. Perfect, even. What…uh—“ She trailed off awkwardly, but you could easily fill in that gap.

What happened?

You bring the beverage to your mouth, this time drinking from the glass directly as opposed to using the straw. The mixer stings your throat this time around but the small ice cube you take into your mouth numbs it away pretty quickly. Slowly, you chew it to small pieces and speak only when you finish it.

“I thought long and hard about this the first few weeks after we called it quits,” you admit. “We always talked about what bothered us or if there was something on our mind, but at one point we just… We stopped wanting to compromise. When I was put forward for Baltimore, it was going to be a permanent thing. Mat was happy, sure, but I could tell he wasn’t being entirely honest with me, you know? When I called him out on it, he asked me well what about us? And I said we’d be fine. Baltimore isn’t a different continent. It’s not even a different timezone. He could come over when he had free time and if he didn’t, I’d always spend weekends in New York anyway. It’s Baltimore, Rach. Not fucking San Francisco or whatever. Eventually, he told me exactly what was on his mind: he couldn’t do long distance. Not even for a short period of time while I figured out if Baltimore is really what I wanted. Isn’t it a bit hypocritical, though?” You question, but it’s clear Rachel feels a bit awkward about giving her take on it right now, so you make it easier for her by responding to your own question. “I felt lonely too when he was on the road. I was worried he’d find someone different, someone much better while away. He never gave me a reason to doubt him, but a small part of me still thought what if. This happened right before he was on the road again, actually. We didn’t call, barely even texted those weeks and then when he returned, we decided it’d be best to break up. Didn’t take us a long discussion to get to that conclusion because at that point, it just… I don’t know. It felt like we didn’t have much to say to each other.”

Rachel presses her lips together, the frown still on her face and hesitantly, she asks, “who said it first?”

“I did,” you respond without hesitating. “He wanted a break while we work it all out but come on, Rach, a break? Look me in the eyes and tell me people really believe in breaks and they come back to each other as if nothing happened.”

“I mean…” she trails off, pointing at herself by way of explanation. “Look at me and Luke, I guess.”

You shake your head. “Nope. Not the same thing, trust me. This was for the best, Rach. It’s much neater to call it quits. That way, neither of us will feel obliged to hold back if life puts something different ahead of us.” You pause for a moment, teeth biting into your lower lip. “They said they’ll always have me back there if I decide on it, so who knows. Once I wrap up the project their called me back for, I might just take them up on it. Not quite a promotion, but it’ll be a good sidestep and maybe a change of scenery is what I need.”

“And do you think it’s good? What the two of you are doing right now?” Rachel questions, not at all deterred by your weak attempt at trying to divert conversation to a more work related topic. “And I don’t mean it just for Elise and Tito’s wedding, but for you and Mat generally speaking. I mean… the two of you have been together for a pretty long time. Doesn’t it… Isn’t it odd?”

“It’s not normal, that’s for sure,” you confirm. “But it’d be weirder for everyone if we were to tell them we’re no longer together given we’ve been asked to do what we need to do. Rach, promise me this stays between us, okay? Promise. I know how it sounds, I know how it’ll look but trust me on this, okay?”

She fixes you with a sceptical stare, a look that holds yet more questions than certainty but eventually, she nods her head and relief washes over you at the gesture. “I’m sorry it happened, Y/N,” she offers, voice warm and sympathetic as she places a hand on the table palm up. “And I’m sorry you went through it alone.”

You smile softly and reach for it, returning the squeeze she gives you. There is comfort in the gesture, comfort in her words and you find yourself rooting for it, so grateful to have received it. “The worst part is over, but thank you, Rachel. “It means a lot.”

“Feel like carpooling with Luke and I?”

“I’m good,” you assure as you both relax back into your seats. “Elise wants us there the day before the rehearsal. I guess just to have some familiar faces around that aren’t just wedding planners, so Mat and I agreed to go together tomorrow. Promise I won’t lose my shit if our song plays on the radio,” you add jokingly and find yourself laughing along with Rachel.

“What song’s that?”

Too many, you think, although one in particular stands out to you. “Brett Young’s In Case You Didn’t Know.”

A tray containing an assortment of dishes is set on the table and shortly after, an ice cold pitch of sangria accompanies that. Eager to cool down, you reach for one of the empty glasses to pour yourself a drink but Mat’s quicker. He takes them both, filling your glass first before his own. You laugh to yourself and Mat grins at that, briefly looking towards you as he fills his glass. You’re about to take a sip, eager to both quench your thirst and cool down but Mat takes the initiative of initiating a toast by raising his glass a little, elbow resting on the table.

“What’re we toasting for tonight?” You ask, imitating his pose by leaning forward a little. “To our first holiday together? To how perfect the weather’s been so far? To how I mastered paddle boarding way before you did?”

Mat laughs, lowering his head as he did so but when he looked back up at you, he clinked his glass against yours and held it there. “To all of that. To one of the many, many holidays we’ll have together. To this moment right here, to us, to you.” He pauses and the strobe lights of the bar switch from dark blue to hot pink, and the way Mat stares at you in this moment makes your heart race inexplicably. “To how much I love you.”

He takes your breath away. Draws it right out of your lungs and you feel heady. It’s the first summer with Mat, the first I love you from him and it suddenly feels as if this bar is too small for the both of you. You love him, and he loves you too and the only thing you could imagine doing is jumping in his arms but there’s a table between you and sangria topped wine glasses in your hands, and he’s wearing a pristine white shirt that looks incredible against his tanned skinned and there’s a lot of people around (the majority significantly older than both your age and Mat’s combined) so you simply grin and carefully lean forward more, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips and even if your voice is low compared to the loud, cheesy country music blasting through hidden stereos, you know Mat catches on to that.

“I love you,” he says right back and before you pull away, he bumps his nose against yours gently, making you giggle.

You both take a sip of your drinks and you smack your lips together, content with the turn of the night.

You and Mat had been dating for a few months, but this was the first time the two of you will spend back to back nights and days together without needing to rush somewhere. Of course, a part of you was anxious about it - while it was easy to spend a few hours together now and then, maybe even the odd night together, it was entirely different being together pretty much all the time. There were habits and quirks you each had that might get in the way, but your worries were soon put to rest. You and Mat had wonderful chemistry together, easily able to spend your time together but also still enjoy each other’s company while doing separate activities. You didn’t want to rush into things and you made no move to do so, but it was ever so easy to imagine what living with Mat would be like. And sure, you were well aware of the fact that it wouldn’t always be sunshine and rainbows; the two of you would eventually transition out of this honeymoon-type period of your relationship, but something told you life would Mat would never bore you. It’d never make you wish for anything different.

“Give me a second,” Mat says and before you could ask him what he meant, he’s out of his seat and you follow him across the bar, a little confused.

He makes his way past the bar, past the pool tables and stops in front of what is undoubtedly a jukebox. Curious, you arch an eyebrow and watch as he fiddles with finding the right amount of change before inserting the coins in the slot. It takes him a while before he finds whatever song it is he wants and it takes enough time for him to make it back to your table before the jukebox and sound system registers the request. You don’t recognise the first few notes at all, much less the accompanying guitar strings but you don’t have time to search your memory for a title.

Mat stops by your side, holding a hand out to you. “Dance with me.” It’s more statement than question and under any circumstances, you may have felt a little awkward about doing this, but it’s the heat of the moment and your giddiness that pushes you to your feet, hand in Mat’s.

The two of you are beaten to an emptier area in the establishment by two other much older couples that were closer to it anyway, and you find that gives you a bit more of a boost also. Mat pulls you to him, wrapping one arm around your waist while holding on to your free hand while you hold on to his shoulder with the other. Your fingers lightly clench and unclench the soft material of his shirt, lowering your head a little and you smile against the back of your hand. It’s so painfully cheesy and there’s nowhere near enough other people dancing along to the song but you love it much more than you thought you ever would.

“Know what I’d invest all my money into?” He asks you suddenly.

You pull back a little, still swaying along with the song. “Cryptocurrency seems like a safe bet right now.”

Mat laughs, that big hearty laugh of his that makes your smile wider and when it passes, he presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Well, I’m glad one of us has a good head on their shoulders, but no.” He shakes his head, then laughs again, shorter and quieter as if recalling your response. “A time machine. I want to stop time right here and right now so that we can be as we are for a little while longer.”

“Cheesy,” you joke, despite the warmth coursing across your entire body and the jelly-like feeling forming in your knees. “But perfectly understandable.”

“Eventually, we wouldn’t need it, but it’d be nice to have one for tonight.”

“Eventually? How so?” You question, then narrow your eyes a little, the gesture playful. “You plan on getting bored of me and breaking up?”

“What!” He exclaims and pulls you in just that much closer. He lets go of your hand only so he could bring his to your chin, tipping your head back a little. “Never,” kiss, “say that,” kiss, “again.” The final kiss you share with him is a little longer and you take the liberty of bringing your hand to his chest, palm pressing against it to feel the thump of his heart against his ribcage momentarily. Then, slowly, you graze the tips of your nails along his exposed collarbone and peck his lips once more before pulling away. It’s then that the song’s name and artist comes to your mind, almost as an afterthought. From hidden speakers, Brett Young declares I couldn’t live life without you and Mat gives you a pointed stare. “Damn, he said it before I could.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” you assure him. “Either way, I think I prefer hearing it from you, Barzal.”

“I’m pretty sure I couldn’t live without you,” he recites and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. He sways you both in a more exaggerated manner that makes you cling to him more out of habit than necessity. You’ve known you’d trust Mat with anything, but each day, he seems to do something that makes that thought solidify more and more in your mind. The comfort and safety that brings wraps around you like a warm blanket.

Be it the hot weather, the somewhat stifling interior of the bar, the sips of sangria on an empty stomach, the euphoria of the moment or all things combined, you nod quickly. And from somewhere in the depths of your mind, the very bottom of your heart, you respond with, “I can get used to this day after day. So don’t let me go, baby.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers, tone full of care and love and warmth. He gives you his promise without hesitation and you know it’s bound to stick.

Your phone buzzes once.

I’m downstairs. Need help with your bags?

You push up from the comfort of your couch and make one last round of your apartment to make sure you had everything you definitely needed from where it was placed.

I’m good. Will be down in a minute, you text back but don’t pocket your phone right away. Instead, you stare at the screen for a little while longer, half tempted to scroll through the thread of messages. They’d provide a stark timeline of when things started going wrong and you would probably be able to see exactly how things changed between the two of you from the moment you suggested a mere break wouldn’t do it. But doing that would be like breaking a streak you had going for sufficient time to earn a pat on your back. The journey of getting to a point where you were sufficiently okay with being in Mat’s presence without any other company was a long one and the last thing you needed was to recall how it once was.

You and Mat started out as friends after Elise introduced the two of you just a short while before he started his professional career with the Islanders. She talked about how the two of them met in school and how great of a guy he was; real down to earth, funny and incredibly ambitious - traits she also assigned to you, and therefore thought the two of you would get along great. She wasn’t wrong about it. You knew a little about hockey, going to games every now and then mostly whenever Elise dragged you along but you found that Mat made the game more enjoyable. He explained it to you in a manner that didn’t make you feel belittled or as if it should be something you already knew of, and didn’t mind explaining some things more than once. On the other hand, you introduced him to your own hobbies and the little world you created for yourself in a city as big and busy as New York. You showed him the more lowkey but homely establishments, including your favourite pizza place that - unbeknown to you at the time - would become yours and his, and even took him to a few student bars where you regularly beat him at pool while he showed off at darts. Occasionally, it felt weird to watch him unwind in such…normal places and ways while on other days, he shone on ice and was easily one of the best rookies emerging from one of the country’s most well known sports leagues. Yet despite that, you found that athlete Mat wasn’t all that different from Mat the person.

He never put a front and his genuine manner was refreshing to you, particularly during a time when you were still a college student and a good portion of the guys around were textbook frat boys. Being around Mat was comfortable and safe. You didn’t feel the need to speak a certain way or be a different person, and retrospectively, the way you felt towards him developed almost organically. You felt yourself gravitating towards him and were pleasantly surprised by the moments when he’d seek you out first. A day off here and a day off there until eventually, you found yourself spending much of your free time with him and vice-versa.

Falling in love with Mat was easy. Being without Mat was difficult. But, thankfully, not impossible apparently.

Convinced you packed everything you needed, made your way out with a duffle bag on your shoulder and a suitcase at your heels.

True to his word, Mat was parked in front of your place and as soon as you pushed open the building’s door, he looked up from his phone and made his way over to you. The last thing you needed was to make the journey any more awkward or difficult for the both of you, so you didn’t argue when he took the bags from you to stow them away in the trunk.

“Are you going across the country?” You ask, peeking into the trunk while he plays Tetris with the bags.

“What?” He questions, evidently distracted by the task at hand but straightens up when you delicately place a hand on his arm, pushing him to the side a little.

“You’d think you’re going across the country for like, two or three weeks rather than a couple of days,” you repeat. “Maybe put that smaller bag sideways? That might let the bigger suitcase fit.”

He follows your guidance and sure enough, that does the trick: the suitcases fit perfectly in the trunk and you grin to yourself, triumphant.

Mat steps back, closing the trunk and brushes his hands together. “Thanks,” he says and you nod, heading towards your seat in the front. He follows you inside just as you click in your seatbelt. “I don’t think it’ll take us more than two or three hours to get there if traffic’s as good as it was when I checked it a little while earlier. Got everything?”

“Everything important that is. Everything else, I’ll just worry about and pull my hair out when we get there,” you tell him and you can’t help feeling proud for being able to keep conversation light and as normal as you can.

After all, you’ve known life before Mat and you’re rediscovering it after him too.

Mat laughs ever so quiet, and from the corner of your eye, you catch him brushing his hand across his mouth though he’s a few seconds too slow in trying to mask his smile.

“I think I’ll need to fill up soon, but let me know if there’s anywhere else you want to stop along the way,” he tells you while pulling out of the parking spot.

You nod even if he probably might not see it and take the liberty to scroll through radio stations. Mat doesn’t seem to be against it, so you continue switching to them until, a little frustrating that nothing seems to work for you, you connect your phone to the car and play one of your playlists. A mix of upbeat pop and an assortment of viral tracks fill in the silence for a while, and the act of singing along in your head takes your mind away from how it almost feels as if you’re sitting on needles. It takes a conscious effort on your behalf to remind yourself to loosen your shoulders and stop fiddling too much with your hands, and you’re glad Mat seems to be plenty preoccupied with driving. Once upon a time, he would’ve immediately picked up on even the most mild of your discomforts and tried to do anything he could to alleviate them. You don’t know how much, if at all, Mat changed during the time you spent apart but you want to think that you no longer wear your heart on your sleeve as much and your emotions are much more guarded, especially in his presence.

Apparently, though, there’s only so much he can take with silence filled in by music because once he’s off busier streets, he leans in his seat more comfortably and you can tell he very briefly turns his head towards you. “Think they’ll like their wedding gift?”

You direct your gaze away from the flashing scenery outside to Mat. “Absolutely. Who wouldn’t like it? Trust me when I say Bali’s been a place Elise always wanted to visit and I can’t think of a better time than now,” you assure him.

“If they don’t, it’s on you,” he says and it takes you a beat longer to realise he’s just joking so you huff out a laugh, relaxing back in the seat.

“If they don’t, they can give one of the tickets to me and I’ll happily go there.” You cast a glare out at the scenery ahead, eyes narrowing upwards towards the overcast sky. “I don’t think summer will ever come at this rate. I’m starting to hate it here.”

“Doubt Baltimore was any better,” Mat points out.

“Hardly,” you sigh. “Maybe I’ll ask them to send me to Miami instead. That’d be much better.”

Mat clears his throat quickly, shifting a little. “So, are you planning on going back to Baltimore or... Why are you back?” You catch sight of the frown forming on his face, and he quickly shakes his head as if trying to rid the hint of accusation from his voice. “That sounded wrong, sorry. But just genuinely curious. I thought a permanent move was on the table?”

“It was. Still is, but they needed me back here to wrap up a project. It was a pretty bad move on their behalf to send me there before we had that wrapped up nice and neat, bow and all, but I guess…” You trail off, shrugging a shoulder. “Guess we’ll see what’s next after that. They do want me back there, though. It just depends how long it takes for things here to fall into place.”

“Fair enough.” Another pause, another moment for him to press his lips together in silent deliberation. He did that often, and you wonder if that remains a habit still. “Was it a promotion? I forgot, sorry.”

“All good,” you assure, brushing off the apology. “Not a promotion per se, but a sidestep with just a slightly bigger paycheck. The office there is a bit smaller than the New York one so maybe there’s a higher chance of getting promoted sooner, but I don’t want to jump the gun on that yet. How did things work out for you guys this season?”

The Islanders had a good season, making the playoffs but fell just short of making the semi-finals, you knew that. After all, you hadn’t removed the Islanders game and news alerts from your phone and you put that on your laziness. You wouldn’t shy away from admitting to him you still followed the team’s progression, but you preferred not to.

“Could’ve been better but there’s lots to learn from it,” Mat tells you and there’s a trace of excitement and determination in his voice. “Next season will be even better, I guarantee.”

It’s a staple Mat response, one he always gave if he felt a game didn’t end in their favour or he didn’t do as much as he thought he should have. Sometimes, it took him some time to accept it. Usually, it came to him after pushing himself in training, after going that extra step in the gym, after re-watching highlights or coach videos and always - always, you’d assure him that it takes a team to move forward, not a single person. Always, he’d kiss you and tell you he loves you and always, you’d spend those moments wrapped up in each other’s arms, more often than not with Mat’s head resting against your chest and your leg slung around his hip.

“Plenty of time to lift that cup, Barzal,” you assure him. “Sure, the sooner the better but there’s always a right time for everything.”

“I hope so,” he agrees pensively, and lingers on that thought.

You let him to it, directing your attention back to the view outside and only now and then picking up your phone either to switch songs or browse through a few applications. A part of you feels almost obliged to try and push for conversation but you avoid doing so. The last thing you need is to make it painfully awkward for the two of you and you figure Mat could always do that himself if he feels like it. So, you let your mind wander to better things - to the upcoming rehearsal and the wedding itself, to how good Elise will look and how Tito will be so proud to watch her walk the aisle towards him. You imagine their reaction to the gift you and Mat contributed towards and smiled to yourself, knowing it was a perfect pick for them both.

You don’t think about telling Elise you and Mat had lied to them. You don’t think about passing this hurdle - the final one before you two will become strangers to one another. You don’t think about how the next time you might both see each other again, you’ll both have such different lives that for a brief moment, the surprise of it will knock the air out of your lungs before you remember: that’s him without me, and this is me without him. And you won’t be the first or the last people to break up, but a part of you is certain what the two of you had was unique and could’ve been grand. So much grander.

You become more alert to your surroundings when he starts slowing the car and you notice you’re pulling up into a gas station. As much as space allows you, you stretch out a little and Mat stops right by one of the pumps.

“Want something for the road?” You ask him, unplugging your phone and taking your card from your bag.

“Hold on, I’ll come with you,” Mat tells you and it doesn’t take long for the refill to happen before you both walk into the station’s store, beelining for the snack aisles even if you have only two hours or so until you reach your destination.

“Oh gosh, those are going to be a nightmare to clean up if you spill any in the car,” you groan quietly as he browses through the variety of Nerds flavours.

“But they’re so good though,” he shoots back and flashes a smile that is nothing short of sly when he picks up two boxes instead of one.

“Yeah, until the flavour runs out literally two seconds after you put them in your mouth. I mean, enjoy that but I’m different,” you boast and pick up a bag of sour candy.

“You just like obliterating your taste buds.”

He’s not wrong. Sour candy and spicy foods are your guilty pleasures, and have been for the longest time. You don’t try to look into how easily he recalls that because, you tell yourself, there’s nothing to look into. It’s a mere fact that anyone who knows you would easily recite.

“You’re wrong and you know it, but admitting that is difficult so it’s fine, Barzal. No hard feelings,” you throw back, snickering as you head over to the fridges for a bottle of cold water. Instinctively, you grab another for him and instinctively, he takes your candy and the water to pay for them but you still tag along with him in the queue.

“No shot. I like some spice but to the point where I literally can’t taste anything else? Hey, remember that one time when you made something… Can’t remember what it was but it was so…” He purses his lips and you laugh because yes, yes you remember it so clearly.

“So good you ended up crying over it?” You offer.

“More like, I wasn’t crying but it was so fucking spicy, Y/N, holy.”

“You survived though, didn’t you?”

“I only did because there isn’t a thing you do I don’t like,” he says and then, seems to catch himself but a second too late. “Didn’t like,” he corrects quietly but the damage is done.

You swallow uncomfortably, directing your gaze away from him but don’t hesitate to nod towards the outside. “I’ll head over to the car. I’ll text Elise to tell her we’re close.”

“Y/N—“

But you’re already taking steps towards the exit and out of ear shot, making a beeline for the car. Your heart thumps rapidly and uncomfortable in your chest and find that pressing a palm to your left side doesn’t make it any better. You know it’s an innocent mistake and there are some habits that die hard, but the way he phrased it triggered your fight or flight instinct instantaneously and despite yourself, you leaned towards the latter. You enter the car and take the time to compose yourself as much as you could. The last thing you need is to have a conversation with Mat about this because you didn’t want to have it - it shouldn’t happen for the sake of avoiding making the situation even more uncomfortable. It was an innocent slip up, no doubt, and you should’ve braced yourself to speak of Mat in present tense as opposed to past tense in the presence of others but it comes to you harder than imagined.

It’s odd how you both once knew so much about each other, everything even, and now the two of you are reduced to dancing around all that and making conscious efforts to keep your conversations as short and banal as possible.

You try and busy yourself with formulating a message to Ellie, one that’s long enough to try and make you seem as busy as possible by the time Mat returns to the car, but every line you wrote, every mini paragraph going into dull details about the trip and where you guys currently are seemed like an overthrow. So, you delete that also and simply text her an OTW just as Mat sets the sweets on the centre console and the bottles in the cup holders.

He doesn’t start the engine immediately and your mood quickly switches to frustration. Sure, you hadn’t handled it in the best way possible but trying to have a conversation about it wouldn’t make it any better. Or at least, it’s just something you didn’t want to have to think about for the remainder of the journey.

But he does just that, because that is what Mat always did: he talked with you.

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” he begins, “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. It’s force of habit more than anything else.”

“It’s whatever, Mat, so just move past it. I did, simple as that,” you tell him neutrally.

There’s something in that response he must have not liked because you pick up on his small huff and shortly after, the car starts and you’re both on the road again. This time, with silence between you and an atmosphere so heavy it makes you wish you weren’t speeding down an Interstate just so you could open the window and let some of the air in.

The hotel the wedding will be held at lies in front of you, sprawling and secluded and perfect for an event like this. Tito is already at the entrance and when he spots Mat’s car, he waves quickly while Mat quickly flashes the headlights before pulling into an available parking spot.

“There they are!” Tito says by way of greeting and you walk right into his outstretched arms, hugging him. “Can’t believe so much time passed since we last saw each other. What is it, two months? Three?”

“Three,” you confirm once you pull away so that Mat could hug him also. “It’s good to see you too. Where’s Elise?”

“She wanted to check on some small details and said she’ll meet up with you guys in a bit. So here I am, the welcoming committee,” Tito explained and when he and Mat stepped apart, he reached out to give you another short hug which you accepted. “So how was Baltimore? Don’t suppose you liked it all that much if you’re back so soon. This guy was happy about it,” Tito adds, nodding his head towards Mat who was already busy emptying the trunk.

You press your lips together, displaying a small smile. “Baltimore wasn’t too bad but they missed me here, apparently. Can’t complete a damn thing without my two cents so here I am for now.”

Tito frowns, but the expression is very brief. “For now? We’ll need to talk more about that later so Barzy doesn’t mope around as much as he did back then.”

You throw a quick glance towards Mat but he’s looking away towards whatever interesting spot on the ground he found, pointedly ignoring you. “I’ll have a word with him about it later,” you tell Tito lightly and together, the three of you make your way inside, towards the reception.

“I think Elise is in the room at the end of the corridor if you want to say hi,” Tito informs you and you jump at the opportunity.

You follow the corridor, making a right turn and continuing along the dimly lit hallway leading to what the signs informed you to be Conference Room 1. The door is slightly ajar and you begin picking up on the buzz of activity coming from within and soon enough, you’re face to face with a spacey room boasting an array of flowers and various arrangements tastefully decorating tables and drooping down from the ceiling. No doubt, the effect will be lovely during the night when colourful neon lights can be turned on. You spot Elise easily: she’s in the midst of the room with what is undoubtedly the scrapbook of ideas she’d been carefully putting together since Tito asked her to marry him. Outwardly, she’s all smiles and laughter but you can imagine the amount of effort and planning putting all of this together and working with planners takes.

When she spots you, she squeals in excitement, sets her book down and dashes across the room to engulf you in a hug, making you stumble a few steps back.

You burst into laughter and wrap your arms around her, squeezing her with just enough force to try and communicate how much you missed her but not so that it was uncomfortable.

“I missed you! You’re here!” She exclaims, stepping back to look at you in disbelief then hugging you again. “Oh my gosh, I’m so happy you’re here! Where’s Mat? Is he here too?”

“Of course he is,” you assure her with a laugh. “I missed you too.” You throw a curious glance towards the room over her shoulder, nodding your head towards it. “How’s it going? Need me to take over for a bit?”

“Maybe later. Definitely later. Come on.” She wraps an arm around yours and leads the way out of the room, undoubtedly back to the reception area where you left Mat and Tito. “Please tell me Baltimore is off the table. FaceTime is fine, sure, but it’s not great, you know? I need the real deal next to me. Besides, I’m not sure if you heard, but Mat wasn’t Mat without you.”

“So I heard, but forget about us!” You said in a desperate attempt to try and steer attention away from the subject. “Tell me about how everything’s going. Are you still nervous about it? Because trust me, Elise - you have absolutely nothing to be nervous of. What I’ve heard of so far and what I’ve seen will make it the absolute best day, surely.”

“Of course I’m nervous,” she tells you and to demonstrate, she holds her free hand in front of you and sure enough, there’s just a slight tremble to it. “Please lend me some of those nerves of steel of yours, Y/N, I’d do anything to have even a small percentage of them right now.”

“Pft, as if. Those are all show, trust me.”

“I’ll take even that. Oh, Mat!” She greets as soon as the two of you reach the reception area and Elise spots Mat.

Much like you and Tito, they hug and when she steps back, she immediately stands next to Tito who doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. They exchange a quick kiss and you smile at the happiness and bliss they’re clearly surrounded by.

It’s the slight pressure on your lower back that makes you jolt a little on the spot and it’s then you realise Mat had gently placed his hand there to encourage you a little closer. It takes effort on your behalf to follow his guidance but you move towards him, though you wish you could physically wince at how undoubtedly stiff the two of you must look. Or hopefully, not greatly so because neither Tito nor Elise comment on it or shoot you any funny looks as the four of you engage in brief conversation, mainly surrounding the trip here and any other guests they expect to receive today.

You don’t hang around much, though. Elise’s phone begins buzzing incessantly and she’s whisked away by the message received, but not before she fixes you with a pointed stare and demands the two of you have drinks later in the evening. Tito follows her also, even if he informs you and Mat that he feels as if he’s running around in the right places only because of Elise and the wedding planners, but you encourage him on by joking he could maybe turn a few candles on the tables this way or that for some extra oomph.

“I can’t imagine how she does it,” you admit to Mat once the elevator doors slide shut soundlessly and the car begins moving upwards to your floor.

“Pretty sure it’s not that big of a deal to her, given what all this is leading to,” Mat tells you and you detect a hint of detachment in his voice.

You don’t welcome it, of course you don’t, but you choose to not point that out to him. The last thing you want is an argument to break out the relatively okay mood the two of you have managed to hold, recent events that could be erased from memory aside. Instead, you simply stand back quietly, eyes glued on the red digital numbers aside until they come to a halt on the ninth floor where the elevator stops and you’re both left in a silent, dimly lit hallway.

Mat has the key to the apartment Elise told you the two of you would be in and just before tapping in, he hands you your own copy of it. Up until this very moment, you hadn’t thought very much of the overnight arrangements. You were pretty sure you meant to ask Elise a bit more about them at some point but both your attention and hers were pulled in different directions and here you were, stepping into your place for the next couple of nights, Mat trailing a little behind you.

You stop, arms folding across your chest and you feel Mat stop somewhere close behind you, looking into one room.

“I didn’t think this through,” you state neutrally.

Ahead of you lay only one bed.

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #*#the synopsis sucks but i'm bad at short summaries lol #i had this idea since i first joined hockeyblr and i'm happy to have finally found the motivation to write it #anyway i have a vague idea for some scenes #and there will probably be three MAYBE four parts to it

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sigynpenniman · 3 years

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Julian Bashir Playlist Time!!

Apple Music playlist (if you're a heathen and subscribe to apple music like me) here

I know that there's plenty of people making playlists, but I really feel like this is an under-utilized brand of fan content. Instead of attempting to create a list of songs that Julian would listen to, or a playlist of songs which were all lyrically directly applicable (though there certainly some of those in here) regardless of genre, I tried to create something which captured, above all, his vibes instead, by choosing songs that balance at least somewhat relevant lyrical content with the energy or feel that I associate with the character. What it means matters, but not as much as how it makes you feel. That said, I signed up for apple music and read a TON of those overwrought iTunes store album review descriptions while I was making this, so I have a whole lot to say about all my choices here. In depth explanation of my symbolism and methodology behind each song under the keep reading. (I love tumblr. I want to write 1,000 words of analysis about why I picked songs to represent Julian Bashir and some of you are gonna read it. This is where I get to pretend to be one of those iTunes music writers. I feel joy.)

Good Morning - Two Door Cinema Club TDCC's Gameshow is high on my favorite albums of all time list for nebulous reasons I myself don't really understand. It was this album, though not this song (but one that will pop up later) that actually inspired me to make this playlist to begin with, as for some reason, from the color scheme of the album cover, to the overall vibe, to the ever-present references to illness, injury, surgery and healers in the lyrics, the whole thing feels inescapably Julian to me. And with an opening like I'm a sinner/I'm the victim/I'm an alien when I'm myself/I'm a healer/I'm a fixer/I'm a present danger to my health/I'm so strong/Doing what I'm supposed to do/ There's something wrong/With somebody like me, it's hard NOT to think about Julian when you hear this song, and I can't think of a better way to start this off.

Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood I think there's a joke somewhere about bisexual people all liking Sweater Weather, and yeah, I resemble that remark. Sweater Weather is just good. You'll notice there's a sort of chill-indie-alt-electronic thing going here, and that is very much the vibe I'm sticking with. Sweater Weather slots in beautifully, both sonically and thematically. As the singer looks to warm and protect the person he's with from the cold, you can't help but feel a loving coziness coming off of this one. It always makes me feel cozy, at least, so it's here.

Gooey - Glass Animals I have nothing to analyze here because the artists themselves have said that the lyrics of this song have no meaning, they're just meant to capture a vibe, and capture it they do. Close your eyes and ride the vibes of this one. The energy is right, I love it, it belongs here.

Blue - Mika I could probably write a couple hundred words on Blue alone, in any context. This might be my beloved Mika's magnum Opus. Opening the song with the inherently counterintuitive lyric Blue is a feminine color, Mika manages to pack it ALL into this 3 minute song: questions about gender; concepts of sadness, joy, and their intersections; of the perception of melancholy as a flaw and loving people despite, or maybe because of, those "flaws" and anything else about them; a powerful first person reassurance that made me start weeping in my car the first time I heard it; just the phrase "why are humans cruel to you." And oh boy, ARE there questions of gender. Why is blue NOT considered a feminine color? Is that a good thing, a bad thing? In 3 minutes of artful poetry, Mika manages to wrap up sadness, love, joy, pain, the feminine that exists within the masculine and the masculine that exists within the feminine, in the simple color of blue and then, in one lyric, validates it all. And on a much simpler and more obvious note, this is in fact all a philosophic musing on the symbolic meaning of the color we see Julian wearing almost all the time (when he's not in uniform, almost all his civvies are also shades of blue.) I feel like this is one of those songs that's hard to analyze because it does what music and poetry does best - communicate something that cannot be communicated any other way. With these broad themes of loving others around the things they can't love about themselves, you can decide for yourself if this one is coming FROM Julian or directed AT him, either works. I find myself struggling for exactly the words to explain this one, but listen to it; you'll understand.

Little Dark Age - MGMT Another choice with no obvious lyrical relevance, but the tonal fit was just too good to pass up. The vibes pass.

The City - The 1975 This song is one of several present because it leans on medical symbolism to get its point across, though I would be lying if I said I fully understood what that point was. But the entire second verse, apparently about the song's subject suffering from some kind of illness and reassuring him that the next one's the M.D./You'll be feeling just fine, seems somehow to transmit the discomfort of illness directly to the listener. I don't know how or why, but the effectiveness of the empathy the second half of this song elicits, in me at least, puts it squarely in the "odd medical vibes" category.

Surgery - Two Door Cinema Club THIS is the song that inspired this whole playlist, mostly because of its title and general vibe. Another example (of many) of medical/anatomical references in this album (another of the songs is called Fever, etc), this song just feels like Julian to me.

The Other Side Of Paradise - Glass Animals I really like Glass Animals. That is probably becoming obvious. Aside from its delightfully cohesive vibes, this song opens with what's simultaneously the slyest and most brazen gay lyric I have heard on the radio recently, as the male singer says When I was young and stupid my love left to be a rock and roll star/HE told me... The song seems to be about a man whose male lover left him in pursuit of fame and fortune, and eventually ends up with a woman, leaving the singer behind. It's got simultaneously subtle and obvious gay themes, it's got confused love affairs, it's got so much bisexual energy. I cannot think of anything that could be more Julian.

Sit Next To Me - Foster The People Kind of like Sweater Weather, this whole song is built around a rather cute and sweet "sit next to me," and you can't help but feel a bit warm and cozy when you listen to it. I think it pairs with sweater weather well, and slides in with the rest of the picks very nicely.

Nothing Better - The Postal Service (the original band of the lead singer of Death Cab For Cutie) Another example of heavy surgical symbolism, the very first lyric of this song is Will someone please call a surgeon. This is actually a duet, and the singers speak of their real hearts to represent their emotional ones. Something about Your heart won't heal right if you keep tearing out the sutures always gets me and always will. And it vibes good. It vibes so, so good.

&Run - Sir Sly Sir Sly's &Run is my favorite song for driving too fast. It does an amazing job of musical onomatopoeia, talking about running while making you want to run. It's a song about running out of plans and running as far as you can instead, which is all very "I'm illegal by definition so I went to the farthest possible reaches of space." And like everything else here, it just feels good. It's also one of the only highlights here that I can actually see Julian listening to.

Cosmic Love - Florence and the Machine It's no coincidence that it seems like most of us who are invested in Julian Bashir are some flavor of genderqueer, be it trans, nonbinary, questioning, or something else entirely - the man's got a Gender with a capital G, and there's a whole lot going on in there. Between the words that were written for him on the page, and the words that were actually spoken, and the way he carries himself, Julian always seems caught between the white, western, and frequently toxic masculinity that the writers often seemed to want to imbue him with, and the very different, racially and culturally distinct masculinity Sid actually brought. But there's an undeniable element of the feminine in Julian too, at least by a traditional definition. The presence of this part of him at all, much less the fact that, in-universe, it's the more traditionally "feminine" parts of himself - the caregiving and nurturing aspects - that Julian seems proudest of or to like most about himself, is a large part of what makes his character so interesting, at least to me. So there was no way I was getting out of this without acknowledging that somehow, and I can't think of a better way to acknowledge a complicated relationship with the feminine side of one's own gender than with this world's own Celtic divine feminine, Florence Welch. I can't think of any better artist, at least that I know of, to represent femininity as a nonspecific ethereal goddess-concept. I basically spun the wheel of Florence here, as anything would have worked, but Cosmic Love felt very appropriate for a character who does in fact live in space. There could even be some Garashir in here, I think.

Dream Sweet In Sea Major - ミラクルミュージカル, or Miracle Musical, a sister act made up of members of Tally Hall I also couldn't leave off without acknowledging Julian's affection for classic lounge music, especially since it's the only thing about his taste in music that we actually know. But instead of tacking on some rat pack, instead I'm polishing this off with the incredibly chaotic and somehow also perfectly cohesive and calm Dream Sweet in Sea Major. It's got all of the vibes of a lounge singer but gone completely off the rails, which just seems perfect somehow. And it's also a very nice feeling to be left with, so it seems only right to put it at the end.

and if you've read all of this, I love you. Y'all didn't know I was this into music did you. but I am. oh boy. I AM.

#julian bashir #playlists #Spotify

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fic-dumpster · 2 years

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Omi bby I'd be lying if I don't say I didn't like everything 🙈💘 but if I have to chose what stood out the most to me and stuck would probs be "Their Mistake", the drunken visit of Sanzu and Rindou, and Doe making Kakucho wear something because he might catch a cold 🥺💖 and most honorable mentioned is the Haitanis "kidnapping" Doe 😆💖 and Sanzu being quite an entertainment 😚👌

T- t- t- their mistake? 😵‍💫💕🫂 that gave me blood pressure problems /j. omg FILTHIEST CHAPTER so far. 😂 tipsy visits 😂🤸🏻‍♂️💕 Kakucho coming to the rescue pls pls 🤧💕🤲🏻!! AND ITS COLD OMDNNXIK my greatest hit okay no 💕💕 but personally speaking yes it’s a fav too *fist bumps*

That one time the Haitani brothers took you away? Why is the title so long? What was I thinking 😂💕 why is the car rocking cracked everyone up 😌😌 my proudest line ever.

What’s your fav story of mine?

#WHY DO YOU LIKE SO MANY FICS OMG YOUR MAKIN ME BLUSH REAL HARD PAT PLS ISNFOXJSKCKD #💜😭💕🤧🥺😔😩🤸🏻‍♂️💕💕😵‍💫😤🫂🤲🏻🧍🏻‍♀️💕#omi.games #pat 💜#manjiroscum #omi.answers

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zukoshotleafjuice · 4 years

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Do you have any headcanons about gaang grandchildren and if they all lived how each one of them would be to them? We don't see much about them here

okay SO i love the gaang grandkids - and actually we see quite a bit of them in the legend of korra, probably just as much as we see the kids.

canonically, all the gaang members who had kids also have grandkids :)

so, for the headcanons:

- in canon, aang never met his grandchildren. however, canon is fake and these headcanons will assume he lived and they’re all best friends

- aang, ikki and meelo get into the wildest shenanigans. tenzin complains that aang brings out the worst in his kids but aang always insists it’s worth it - besides, tenzin was always too serious

- constant air scooter races. aang lets the kids win every single time and this always results in meelo running around, screeching that he defeated the avatar. tenzin rolls his eyes but doesn’t quite have the heart to burst his bubble

- he encourages jinora’s spiritual and serious side, teaching her the more obscure airbender myths that her hyper younger siblings aren’t as interested in. they meditate together and discuss the spirit world and the things aang has seen in his role as the bridge between the humans and spirits.

- we know literally nothing about rohan since he was a newborn in LOK, but I like the idea that he’s a bit of a dreamy, artistic free spirit. more like jinora than meelo, but even more prone to getting lost, wandering around with his head in the clouds. aang loves rohan’s imagination and creativity, and definitely introduces him to artists in republic city

- katara and jinora get along like a house on fire. they’re very similar people - jinora is an airbender, but as a kid she would watch katara waterbend and secretly practice her movements. katara passes on water tribe traditions to all her grandchildren, but they resonate the most with jinora. she loves listening to the stories and the mythology of the water tribe, learning about tui and la, about the moon spirit who was her grandmother’s friend and who promises to watch over jinora and her siblings as long as they live

- ikki loves it when katara braids her hair. she wears hair loopies all the time, even though they’ve long been out of style in the water tribes. her grandma likes them, so ikki knows they must be cool. ikki and katara go penguin sledding together every time they’re in the water tribe - it’s ikki’s favourite activity and she’s never quite sure why katara tears up slightly every time they do it. katara also teaches ikki SWT cooking - it’s very meat centric and tenzin isn’t thrilled with his airbending kids eating meat, but katara always reminds him with a glare that those kids are as water tribe as they are air nomad

- zuko has the best relationship ever with his grandson iroh. when he found out that izumi was planning to name her son after uncle iroh, he straight up sobbed

- zuko ends up being a very uncle-iroh like figure to his grandson iroh II. lots of sage advice, tea-making and pai sho sessions. zuko sees a lot of himself in his grandson - they have the same impulsivity, reckless streak, ruthless determination and voice. he recognises that iroh II needs that same guidance and voice of reason to help him channel his intensity, turn it into something productive. it’s too easy for people like them to turn to self-destruction when things don’t go their way, so zuko makes sure that iroh II knows how to develop healthy coping mechanisms so that he never ends up suffering the way zuko did

- zuko’s a little unsure when iroh chooses to go into the military, but he sees how well he takes to that life. he’s the proudest grandpa ever when iroh II gets the title of the youngest general in history

- toph has the most complicated relationship with her grandkids. it’s not strained, but it’s not too close either given that she retired to the forest and became a hermit when they were very young. but we see in korra that opal has only fond memories of her grandmother and clearly loves her a lot.

- toph shows affection brutally. she’s never brutal, exactly, but she can be stern in the best way possible. she always makes sure her grandkids know to never take shit from anybody, to always get back up and never to let anyone talk down to them. she’s insistent that opal, especially, learns this - opal is naturally shy and reserved, and toph is determined that nobody ever takes that as an excuse to talk down to her

- opal’s a little insecure about the fact that her mother and grandmother are such famous earthbenders while she is a non-bender. when toph hears about this, she ruffles opal’s hair and says “don’t be silly, kiddo. my best friend’s a non-bender, and he’s the strongest guy i know”

- she then threatens to end the life of anyone who gives her granddaughter shit for being a non-bender. nobody dares say anything to opal after that

- as toph feels herself growing older, she starts returning to zaofu and republic city more often. she spends more time with her grandkids, becoming their go-to advice person and resident eccentric old lady.

- bonus: i love the concept of bumi having an airbender daughter before he develops airbending himself. it would create a really interesting family dynamic since the child would have to spend a lot of time on air temple island with tenzin. also it would help bumi feel more connected to his airbender roots. this is the most out there headcanon but it’s my emotional support headcanon and i love it. it actually has nothing to do with your ask but i felt the need to share anyway

#atla #avatar the last airbender #aang #zuko #katara #the legend of korra #korra #jinora #iroh ii #ikki #opal #opal beifong #tenzin #toph #toph beifong #gaang kids headcanons #my posts #asks

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pepperonyspizza · 3 years

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soulmate au where you touch your soulmate for the first time it leaves a handprint that's how you know they are your soulmate

well, this went kinda out of hand and ended up way longer than I wanted it to be lmao also this didn’t give me any specific ship so I went with pepperony :) I hope that’s what you wanted! ~*~ There is this rule that Tony has: Do not touch Pepper. Ever. He’s not sure how it started but something about their ‘professional’ relationship has put that barrier over the years - but that doesn’t stop Tony from testing just how solid said wall is every now and then. The media isn’t calling him a sleazy asshole for nothing and it’s not like he’s being too obnoxious about it.

A nudge of his shoulder against hers, his hand a fleeting pressure on the small of her back, always with a securing layer of clothing between them. That’s it. Nothing more.

Tony tells himself that he doesn’t push it any further because, deep down, there is something that resembles a gentleman, not because he’s scared to drive them to a point from which there is no going back.

But that fear (not that it’s actually that) isn’t enough to keep Tony from wishing that things could be different, especially during a moment like this one when Pepper is tearing into him about yet another board meeting he’s missed and he wants nothing more than to shut her up.

It would be so easy. Tony can imagine it in his head perfectly. He would reach for her, wrap his fingers around her slender wrist and she would stop talking in an instant to stare at him in shock.

More would happen after that, at least according to his fantasy. They’d kiss and stumble out of the messy workshop to continue what they had started upstairs in his bedroom. His real bedroom, the one only he gets to see. Well, and Pepper of course when she interrupts his peaceful sleep with her nagging—

“Tony!”

He blinks out of his daydream, realizing that he’s been staring at a bland wall for the last minute. The woman he’s been ignoring is looking everything but amused and not even the charming grin he shoots her way can calm her down.

“Yes, dear?”

“Have you listened to anything I just said?”

“...something about a board meeting that is scheduled for today?”

“Was,” Pepper corrects, sighing deeply. “It was scheduled for today, Tony. 3 hours ago. I told you about it this morning.”

“Oops.”

“Oops?!” He gets up from his chair but she’s close on his heels even as he moves further into the large space of his workshop. “That’s all you have to say after I spent the past thirty minutes cleaning up your mess?”

It must have been something important for Pepper to be this angry at him. He must have missed at least four other meetings this week alone and she’s barely done so much as lecture him about those.

Tony whirls around with his hands up, “Woah, easy now. It’s not that big of a deal, right?” His grin is all teeth as Pepper’s nostrils flare. “Okay, that was the wrong thing to say. Let me try again. I’m really sorry. I forgot.”

She crosses her arms and huffs but she isn’t yelling anymore.

“Let me make it up to you,” he continues with a smile, “How about dinner? Just the two of us and some fancy food.”

And just like that, he’s back to square one The fire in Pepper’s eyes is back, brighter and more deadly than before. Tony can’t believe that he’s said the wrong thing again.

“Dinner? Are you serious?” She throws her arms up, looking both annoyed and exhausted, which makes Tony feel like he’s getting scolded by a teacher. “Thanks to your little stunt, I’ll most likely be dealing with this all night. I won’t have time to indulge any of your antics.”

“Pep.”

“If you are so desperate for a nice dinner, how about you show up for the one you have scheduled for tomorrow evening?”

“Pepper.”

“Because, and I swear to god, Tony, if you miss anything else this week, I’ll—”

“Potts!”

Tony barks at least, too tired to continue this argument any longer. He absentmindedly reaches for her, settling one of his hands on her forearm before he can think twice about it.

It takes less than a heartbeat for Pepper to react. She goes silent, not because he told her to but because he’s literally holding onto her, which has never happened before.

Her skin is all smooth and soft, such a strong contrast to his own. Tony wants to slap himself for only finding out now when he could have been touching her for all those years.

But then Pepper’s eyes go wide and she jerks back like he’s burnt her. Tony lets go without comment, although the five steps she takes back aren’t necessary. He won’t jump her. They are friends, aren’t they? Friends touch each other casually.

“Come on, Pep. I promise that I’m not infectious.” He does his best to grin as he shows her the palms of his rough hands. “And no oil or grease stains either. See?”

She doesn’t look down. In fact, it doesn’t seem like she’s looking at him at all but rather straight through him. Tony frowns, a little concerned and very much confused. His gaze drops down to where Pepper is clutching her arm and his eyebrows almost shoot into his hairline when he sees what her small hands are trying to cover up.

Tony takes a step towards her, waiting for her to take one back and keep them apart. She doesn’t. Pepper only snaps out of her frozen like state when he’s already close enough to pull her arm out of the way.

There, covering a good part of her forearm is a crimson handprint. Not any handprint but Tony’s. He puts his hand right on top of it to check, to make sure that it hasn’t been there before even though he already knows so.

His hand fits perfectly on top of it. His eyes snap back up to Pepper’s face when she fails to respond to… well, anything. Frankly, the woman looks like she’s seen a ghost. Any other time, Tony would have been insulted but given the current circumstances, he kind of understands.

“Are you going to say something?” “Mr. Stark, I—”

Mr. Stark. She’s just found out that he’s her soulmate and she’s trying to go with formal titles? Hell no. That’s not how they are going to play.

Tony cuts her off for the second time that day but instead of snapping, he kisses her. It’s not his proudest moment and he’ll blame his poor impulse control for it later. Pepper lets out a surprised squeak that’s muffled by his mouth pressing against hers but otherwise makes no move to stop him.

It will happen eventually, Tony is absolutely sure of it - but until that happens, he’s going to take full advantage of her hesitation. Kissing Pepper has been his number one fantasy for so long and now that the knowledge of him being her soulmate hangs above them, the fire inside him has only grown hotter.

Her hand comes in contact with his body just like he’s expected but not to push him away but to fist her hand into the fabric of his tank top and pull him closer. Tony realizes with a start that he’s kissing back.

Pepper is kissing him. With quite a lot of enthusiasm, he might add.

Tony doesn’t know how long the kiss lasts or at what point Pepper’s free hand has moved to his neck. He does notice the sudden and unnatural warmth that spreads over his skin where she’s touching him. It’s much warmer than the heat radiating from her hand should be, so much that he breaks the kiss with a startled yelp.

The woman in front of him pulls her hand away quickly as her eyes snap open. If Tony wasn’t so scared about what the hell was going on, he would have been smug about the dazed look on Pepper’s face and the state of her lips. She opens her mouth to say something but then her gaze drops down to his neck. Whatever she sees there is enough to keep her quiet.

“What?! What is it? What is happening?” Pepper only stares. “Potts!”

“I am sorry,” she says, already in the process of reaching out again before she thinks better of it and drops her arm back down to her side. “I am so sorry, Tony. I didn’t think about...”

She trails off and Tony panics. What the hell has she done to him? His skin is no longer burning but the part she’s touched is still warm. It’s a calming heat but with how nervous Pepper looks, even that is not enough to keep him from freaking out.

He dashes across the workshop and towards the full-length mirror in one of the corners, expecting the worst. The handprint he finds on his neck is completely logical and yet baffles him. He’d been so distracted by the mark he’s left on her that he’d forgotten about this part.

Not only is he her soulmate but she’s his soulmate as well.

Tony turns around, the biggest grin plastered across his face as he watches Pepper approach him, “Potts.”

“This is a disaster!” His heart drops. Isn’t she happy about this? It’s everyone’s dream to find their soulmate… or maybe it’s not that she’s finally found hers but rather who it has turned out to be.

“There is no way we can cover that up unless you’re wearing a turtleneck to every single one of your meetings from now on.”

He frowns. “What?” “This will be a P.R nightmare.”

“Are you seriously thinking about the stupid company right now?” Tony asks with annoyance and the slightest bit of hurt in his voice. “We’re soulmates, Pepper. You kissed me!”

“Actually, you kissed me.” “And you kissed back!” He points at the handprint on his neck and yeah, its location will make it impossible to hide. Not that Tony minds that. “Look how you claimed me. Everyone will see this and know that you did it.” The speed at which she turns red has to be some sort of record.

“I didn’t mean to! Besides, no one will know that it’s my hand.”

“Nope, at least not until I tell them. And I will.”

“Tony!”

“I’ll tell everyone, Potts. And you better tell any schmuck that tries to flirt with you that you already found your soulmate.” She’s quiet as she observes him. Tony doubts that she’s aware of the fact that she’s biting her lip but that doesn’t stop his lizard brain from wanting to kiss her again. The mark on his neck tingles, sending a shiver down his spine.

“We have to talk about this. We can’t just… this will get complicated.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Tony promises as he settles his hands on her hips. “I’m a genius. You’re smart. We got this.” He leans forward, his breath ghosting over her face. “We’ll have all the time in the world to talk. Later.”

Before Pepper has the chance to object, he kisses her. This time, it takes not nearly as long before she’s returning the kiss, both her hands buried in his hair. It feels amazing. Like it is destined to be.

In some way, Tony thinks that it is.

#pepperony #tony stark #pepper potts #fanfic #my writing

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edie-k · 3 years

Text

Legally Ginger (Chapter 2)

Title: Legally Ginger

Chapter 2/9

Rating: PG-13 (I use fuck more than the MPAA allows for PG-13 but that's a stupid rule - there's no explicit content)

Pairing: Romione endgame

Summary: When Ron Weasley's college girlfriend declines his proposal because he doesn't meet her standard for future husband, he decides comes up with a plan to let her see him in a new light.

Notes: This is an AU Muggle reimagination of Legally Blonde. It's very different than anything I have ever written - and my first chapter story. I intend to update each Monday - although I'm slightly early due to commitments tomorrow.

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter has a character making a joke about an incident of sexual harassment they were the victim of. This is a line directly from the movie and is bolded to indicate it's not my original dialogue. Unlike the movie, the conduct is identified as harassment.

Shout out to TheKillerTigerBunny’s recent fic for inspiring a scene in the admissions video.

Thanks to adnei again for her feedback!

Read at AO3 or click below for more

Ron mindlessly shoved his hand back into the bag of chips next to him on the bed as he stared at the TV in the corner.

He had spent all day Sunday trying to compose the perfect text. The magic words that would bring her back. He composed dozens of drafts. Some were apologetic - clearly he shouldn’t have sprung an engagement on her but that didn’t mean they had to break up! Some were logical - there was almost a full semester of school left that they could spend together and see where they stood at graduation. Some were just pathetic - begging and pleading her for a second chance.

Finally, he decided to keep it simple.

can we please talk?

She responded.

it’s too hard to talk. I love you but that doesn’t mean this can work I’m sorry

He didn’t respond further. In the end, he couldn’t figure out how to fix what was wrong with him. There was no clear way to make himself worthy of Astoria.

So when the alarm went off Monday morning, he hit snooze. Then he hit it again. And again. And then he just turned it off for the next four days, only emerging from his room in the middle of the night to raid the pantry for more supplies. Apart from a few supportive texts from his siblings and friends, he’d been mostly left to wallow. Which could only mean that news of his humiliation had spread across campus and people were keeping their distance. He appreciated it but had a hunch his brothers’ patience would soon wear thin.

As if on cue, the door flung open.

“All right, Ron,” said Fred, barging in the room. “It’s been a week. Time to emerge.”

“Uh,” grunted Ron. Pig trotted in happily and jumped up on the bed next to Ron.

Fred paused and looked at the TV. “My God, are you watching NBC Sports Network? You need to snap out of it.”

Ron shrugged. “Lost the remote two days ago.”

George poked his head in the room before entering. “God, it reeks in here. And it better be beer in that bottle by your nightstand. Thankfully, we brought reinforcements.”

“Hey bro,” said Ginny, popping into the room. “It’s time to seize the day!”

“No,” he said flatly to his sister.

“Come on, you don’t want to blow off your classes. You’ve worked too hard to have to graduate in the summer semester. You want the celebrity commencement speaker, not whatever ancient associate dean they con into putting on a robe in August,” Ginny appealed.

“I’ve been emailing my assignments. It’s fine.”

“Well, this isn’t fine. Come on! I know what always cheers you up,” Ginny wheedled.

“Ehm,” Ron grunted, turning over.

“Please!” begged Ginny. “I need to blow off steam too.”

“I’ll buy you cheese fries,” George suggested.

“My own order,” Ron said.

“Yes,” agreed George.

“And beer,” Ron added.

“Goes without saying!” said Fred, yanking the covers off of him. “Shower and we’re off!”

****************************

Forty minutes later, he was moping under the umbrella shaded patio table outside of the batting cages, Pig at his feet, picking at his fries while his beer warmed in the sunshine. Fred and George were taking cracks off the pitching machine with a couple of his frat brothers and members of Ginny’s sorority that had tagged along.

“Come on,” said Ginny. “You need to hit something.”

“I’ll take the next one,” Ron replied listlessly.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Girls, make him see reason,” she appealed to her sisters, who were seated next to him flipping through magazines. Ginny jogged off to join the others.

“Ron, Astoria is trash,” said Lavender.

“She is not!”

“She’s trash,” agreed Parvati. “Bougie trash.”

“I’m the one that’s clearly trash.”

“No, you’re a fucking straight up 9 and if I wasn’t in love with the moron taking 40 mile per hour softballs to the head - ” Lavender gestured at Seamus who was doing just that - “I would already be in your pants,” Lavender assured him.

“You’re a little too earnest for me, if I’m being honest,” said Parvati. “And you’re a dude, so no. But if you dated one of my friends, I wouldn’t tell her she could do better than you.”

“Yeah,” said Ron, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Astoria, you should take me back. I’m not as good of a catch as a guy that tries to achieve CTE for fun but at least Parvati won’t shit talk me behind my back.”

The girls giggled. “Ron, I know it hurts that she didn’t feel the same about you but truly, you are better off. She was just flat out wrong. You’re smart, you’re accomplished, everyone likes you. She’s a snob looking for a certain name to hyphenate behind hers. Just like her sister,” Parvati insisted, pointing at the People magazine in front of her.

Ron peered over her shoulder. There was a color shot of Astoria’s sister Daphne, her hand ensconced in the hand of a dark haired man, walking the sidewalks of New York.

“Is that the Kennedy Taylor Swift dated?” asked Lavender. The two girls' voices faded in the background as he read and reread the caption.

Third year Princeton Law.

This is what Astoria was talking about. Her sister was dating some east coast prep school guy who went to a fancy university. In some ways, he got it. That need to live up to your siblings’ accomplishments or better yet, surpass them. He certainly felt it himself.

Bill, with his gorgeous French wife, was on the executive track at a financial firm. Charlie, with his easygoing personality, had somewhat accidentally launched a successful YouTube channel about his wildlife adventures in Asia. Percy, who had somehow managed to weather the civil servant storm and was on his third presidential administration at the IRS. Fred and George had their plans and Ginny knew she’d go early in the next National Women’s Soccer League draft if she didn’t opt to play soccer professionally overseas.

And Ron had had Astoria. The thought of a good life with a good job supporting an amazing and ambitious woman was exactly what he wanted. But she needed a little more. She needed someone that could prove they played at her level and bring a little flash and substance, like Daphne’s fiancé did.

He stared at the picture. Ron couldn’t get the Kennedy name. But he could wear a fucking rugby shirt and throw gel in his hair and...

“That’s it!” Ron shouted.

“What?” both girls asked, startled.

“I’m going to Harvard Law,” he announced.

Both girls stared. “Seamus, sweetie?” called Lavender. “Bring your batting helmet. He’s got some brain damage and we need to protect his skull from further harm.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Ha ha. So Astoria’s a little… materialistic and thinks about optics. Everyone Is flawed. And Lav, you said yourself that I’m a nine. How does law school, hell, Harvard Law School, not get me to a ten?”

“What’s going on?” asked Ginny. They’d abandoned the cages at Lavender’s call.

“I’m going to law school,” Ron announced proudly.

“Why?” asked George.

“Ron, no. You loved your internship. You have three job offers doing what you enjoy. This is fucking insane,” Fred insisted.

“You can’t give up free beer,” Seamus added.

“Maybe I’ll love law school,” Ron reasoned. “And if I don’t, I don’t have to finish. It’ll be enough to prove to Astoria I can get into Harvard - ”

“Harvard?” George asked.

“—And not embarrass her. The jobs I enjoyed have regulatory aspects to them so hey, a semester of law school can only help, right?”

“This is asinine,” Parvati said.

“Free beer,” whined Seamus.

“Holy shit,” cried Ginny, flashing her phone towards them. “Have you seen the cost of tuition?” She flashed it to George before Ron snatched the phone out of her hand.

“How the fuck are you going to pay for that?”

Ron cringed. “It’s not going to be my proudest moment. but I’ve got an idea.”

********************

“Hi, Auntie,” Ron said, as he followed the maid into the giant sitting room.

“Ronald,” Muriel greeted. They stood looking at each other awkwardly a moment. “Well, sit down. You,” she barked at the maid. “Bring us some drinks.”

“Right away, ma’am,” the maid scurried off.

Ron and his siblings came from fairly blue collar roots on both sides of the family. In fact, they were the first to attend college. The cost had made it out of reach for his mother and father to attend themselves. Mom’s brothers had planned to take advantage of the GI Bill but unfortunately were casualties of the first Gulf War. After that, Muriel had set up education trusts for her great niece and nephews with the $20,000 incentive. While his mom and dad had always refused any other financial help from Muriel, education was just too important to pass up.

Muriel had money to burn. Unbelievably, she’d been the trophy wife of an oil billionaire 35 years older than her back in her heyday and other than maintaining her estate, caring for at least 6 dogs at any given time and keeping a steady supply of brandy, she mostly just spent her money on controlling whatever family and non-profits she could sink her claws into.

“So,” said Muriel as the maid returned with a snifter of brandy for each of them. “I assume you’ve come for an advance on your graduation gift. When I saw your mother last month, she said things were quite serious between you and that Greengrass girl.”

“Uh, not exactly. See Aunt Muriel, I’ve had a change to my course of studies.”

“You’re almost done and NOW you realize that culinary arts will earn you pennies?”

“No,” he gritted his teeth. “Not culinary arts. It’s food science. It has to do with the biochemistry of food systems and preservation.”

Muriel snorted. “And you’ve decided that since pioneer women had canning figured out, there was nothing further for you to do.”

“Actually, I’ve decided to attend law school.”

“Law school?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Harvard Law.”

“You think you’re going to Harvard Law?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Why?”

“Why-why do I want to go?” Ron responded. He wasn’t sure if his reason would impress Muriel much.

“No, why do you think you’ll get in?”

It was a fair question. Before college, he had never been an over achiever. That had started with the CULA soccer coach coming to see Ginny play during the spring of her junior year. He’d joined the coach, his parents and Ginny at the house after the meet and delivered the disappointing news that the only event he’d qualified for in the district meet was the 3200 meter. While his family looked sympathetic, the coach smiled and said, “Yes, I’d expect that you’d be a great distance runner. My husband coaches cross country at CULA. Could I give him your name?”

No one had ever expected him to be great at anything.

He won the state title in his division for 3200 meter that year and went on to win the conference title twice at college.

And once he proved himself there, people expected he’d be good at chemistry and they expected he’d be a good president of the house and good at fundraising. And he was. Doing what he was expected to do worked.

But now, they all expected him to give up on the love of his life.

“Just… want to do the unexpected.”

“You know I’m on the board of the local humane society?”

“Uh, I guess,” said Ron. He was actually clueless to her old biddy affairs.

“I understand you raised $12,000 for us at the end of last year.”

“Me and the rest of the guys,” he answered.

“Violet Pullen led me to believe it was mostly your doing.”

Ron shrugged. “I was the one who knew how to brew the beer. And it wasn’t that hard to get the permissions to bottle it and sell it and stuff. The other guys got it promoted for the most part.”

Muriel looked at him appraisingly before she chuckled dryly. “Bring me an acceptance letter and I’ll cut a check.”

*************************

“What the hell is all this?”

Ron glanced up from the stack of study guides he was perusing to answer the twins. “LSAT study guides.”

Fred groaned. “Are you still on this?”

“Of course,” Ron said. “My advisor said I need like, a 173 on the LSAT to be seriously considered.”

“Why would they consider a food science major?”

Ron shrugged. “I have a 3.89 GPA. And Stori’s a philosophy major.”

“But that makes sense,” George said.

“How?” challenged Ron.

“Dunno. I guess because philosophy is a snob subject that’s totally useless without at least a graduate degree.”

Ron ignored them.

“And how are you paying for this?”

“Muriel will cover tuition if I get in. I’ll live at home this summer and I’ve got a couple technician jobs I can take that my degree makes me more than qualified for, plus some catering gigs. I figure that’ll be enough to get through the school year.”

“Ron,” Fred said. “Bro, you like your life. Why change it for some girl?”

“I’m getting fucking tired of this. She’s not some girl. I’m in love with her. She’s the one and I just need to show her I’m worthy of her.”

“You ARE worthy of her,” George insisted.

“Then it’ll be easy to prove, right?” said Ron.

The twins looked at each other and sighed.

“Here, take my lucky pencil for the exam. It helped me pass Spanish.” Fred held out the writing instrument to Ron.

“You passed Spanish because you gave Professor Trewlaney a lap dance,” George reminded him.

“Yeah. Luckily.”

“That’s sexual harassment,” said Ron.

“It is?” asked Fred.

“Yeah, it’s called quid pro quo. She should be fired for that.”

“Well hot damn, Ronnie,” said George. “Maybe you’re set for this law school stuff after all.”

“The exam is the least of my worries. I need a two page essay, professor recommendations, and a ‘personal statement’ of some sort. I’ve never been great at selling myself,” he admitted.

“Well Georgie,” said Fred with a grin. “Looks like you just found the subject of your senior marketing project.”

***************************************

“Well,” said Horace Michaels, rubbing his face and looking at his fellow panel members. “That was certainly something.”

“The video was a lot but… I like him,” said Veda Kasyor. “He’s a college athlete and president of his fraternity while carrying a high GPA.”

“Oh, is he an athlete Veda? Did the shirtless jogging footage tip you off?”

“He was also brewing beer in his frat basement.”

“He’s a food science major.”

“And he sold that beer on campus as a Humane Society fundraiser.”

“Who produced this video? Pretty heavy handed with the studying in the library footage,” Richard scoffed.

“He’s got a 3.89 GPA and he got a 177 on the LSAT. He probably studies.”

“Was he playing chess naked in the video?”

“It was his opponent who wasn’t wearing clothes - I believe it was strip chess.”

“If we’re looking for diversity - ”

“A white man’s not it.”

“Typically, no but he’s got, what, 6 siblings? Dad’s a mailman, Mom’s a parapro. He’s not some trust fund legacy case.”

“He had internships with two major corporations. And his resume shows part-time jobs since he was 16.”

“I’m concerned about his course of study. Food science is the hard sciences. Is he going to be equipped to handle position statements?”

“His personal essay was well-written and compelling, plus he minored in business. His Business Strategy prof had a glowing recommendation.”

“Ron Weasley… welcome to Harvard.”

#au romione #ron and hermione #romione fanfic #ron weasley #ron x hermione #romione #ron weasley defense squad #hp fanfic #muggle au

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whattodowithkpop · 3 years

Text

Saving Grace (Chapter 1) [S. Coups]

Title: Saving Grace

Pairing: Seungcheol (S. Coups) x Reader

Genre: Angst, Spice, Fluff

Word Count: 12.3K Words [All Chapters]

Writer: Kpopmadness

Summary: Reader is an Empress with tragic backstory and Seungcheol plans an alliance with her.

A/N: This is a 7 chapter story I wrote a few months ago. It’s one of my proudest works I think. I wrote it more for the story than for S.Coups. Even though he plays a dashing prince very well. For anyone fans of Webtoons like My dear cold blooded king and Subzero, this is similar. Or if you like books like The wrath and the dawn or Winners curse, this is also like those books. :)

*****

CHAPTER 1;

The sound of battle cry and of swords colliding together is what wakes the royal household up with urgency. The air outside is cold. Snow comes down in heavy flakes, coating the palace pathways in snow. But as the snow falls from the dark puffy sky and touches the ground, blood covers it over. The white ground now a crimson red.

Tears fall to the palace floors as a young girl is dragged from her warm bed and placed in the middle of her family on her knees, a blade at her throat.. Her thin nightdress doing nothing to cover her from the cold and snowflakes that seep through the material and bite her soft skin.

Her parents and siblings kneel beside her. Their faces white, drained of all color and blood, their hands shake fearfully at their sides. Her father, an Emperor of Korea, is the first to die that night. The last memory she would have of them is their bodies falling limply to the cold stone beneath them. Blood creeps its way through the cracks in the finely cut stone and soaks the snow and ground beneath.

Tears fall faster as the girl knows she’s about to die next. Her family has long gone beside her. A gloved hand closes around her throat, jerking her head upward, a sharp blade slashes across her chest and up her neck. She falls to the ground; the world tipping and spinning before her. Blood running into her left eye. She sees them go. The men that destroyed her world in a moment. In that moment a spark lights within her. She knows she must live, somehow. Her last thought is that if she somehow lives, she will bring justice for her family. Their deaths would not be for nothing.

………….

“You may enter.” A guard says gruffly as he swings the wide heavy oak door open further for the man in front of him to get inside.

The young man says nothing in response. But he nods his head in silent thanks and walks steadily to his destination. A row of a dozen armed guards follow suit, their long black capes flare behind them. They wear all black from head to foot. The only pop of color was the mask covering their faces. Only their eyes shone through. One of the guards cuts in front of him and picks up the lead. The young man didn't mind though. His thoughts were swimming, a steady anger burns behind his dark doe eyes.

His mission is simple enough. He wasn't here because he wanted to be or even chose to be there. This was all his fathers set up. A command, actually. And even though he was heir to the throne, he was no different than one of his fathers soldiers. Son or not he was to follow orders. Orders he hates. Because the person he's going to see he feels bad for. He's seen her once, many years ago.

The guard in front of him stops abruptly and swings open another set of heavy doors. They groan from their weight and when they close behind the young man, they make a loud thud that echos through the large room. In the center of the room stands a group of young women, all dressed in royal attire. They meet his eyes but say nothing. Slowly, more guards come out. They stand above him on the balcony that circles the room. A dozen more guards file out from behind the young women. Everyone in the room wears the same chrome mask over their faces.

Seungcheol goes on one knee and bows his head while also removing his sword from its sheath and places it on the stone floor. His dark hair falls around his eyes and when he lifts his head his voice is gentle, but firm;

"Empress, i know i am one of many suitors that have come before you." He pauses, silence answers him. His eyes linger around the room, the masked figures stare back at him wordlessly. "I am here, my lady, to form a marriage alliance with you. I am proposing we join our kingdoms and become better, together'

There's a long stretch of silence, all the while Seungcheol holds his breath.

" Prince Seungcheol," A soft female voice murmurers, her voice echoing through the room. But not giving away its owner. Seungchoel's eyes scan the room in search of the voice but he fails to find it. "You're bold coming here and assuming i want a marriage alliance. I will marry you."

Seungcheol sucks in a sharp breath of air, surprised by the fast response to his question.

"You know my name?" He manages to choke out. Many had come in his position, but the Empress had always turned them down. No matter the kingdom they possessed or the amount of power they had.

"I know the names of a lot of people. Especially the ones that think they can come here and sweep me off my feet" The voice said, an edge to it. "But before we discuss wedding plans, shall we play a game?"

Before Seungcheol could answer, everyone around him moved places. The young women dispersed and went to random points in the room. The guards also moved places.

"Come find me." The female voice dared, her voice just above a whisper that sang across the big room.

Seungcheol scoffed and stood up to his full height. He ran a hand through his dark hair and let out a breath. "So this is your plan my Empress? To test me?"

"Are you not interested? My guards can show you out." The voice says coolly.

Seungcheol let out a chuckle. He said nothing for a moment, then removed his cape that he had been wearing to block the cold outside and let it flutter to the floor next to his weapon. He slowly began to walk around the room, looking at each person carefully.

"You realize the game you are playing is unfair. Means how you have remained a phantom for many years. Rumor has it no one has seen your face since your parents were said to have died. I think you are bored, Empress." He said as he walked up to one of the young women closest to him and examined her closely. Taking note of her eyes and the way she held herself up

"It's a disadvantage for you, yes," The voice said. "Your charming, but you seem smart. Examine each person in this room and try to guess who the Empress is. Use your eyes. I'm curious to know what your guess will be. And if i am bored as you say i am, then amuse me." Then she said again, "Come find me."

Seungcheol smirked but continued his search around the room. He searched every one of the young women's faces, searching their eyes for a hint. But found none. Thirty minutes passed, but he still was no closer to finding the owner of the voice. He had begun searching the guards too. But none of them had what he was looking for. He wasn't even sure if it would prove helpful to find the empress. Since he had only been a child when he last saw her.

Seungcheol let a sigh escape his lips and ran a hand over his eyes.

"Are you tired?" The voice asked gently.

Seungcheol let out a soft chuckle and let his eyes sweep the room, "You're not exactly making this easy for me, Empress. You sure i can't get a hint?"

The voice let out a soft chuckle. And for a moment, it crossed Seungcheol's mind that it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. But he could hear a hidden pain laced behind it.

"Giving hints make this less fun, my prince."

Seungchoel shook his head and circled the room for what felt like the hundredth time. Then he directed his gaze upward, to the large balcony above him. Slowly, he began to climb the large winding staircase. He took his time going to each guard. Examining each one just as carefully as the first. Soon, though, he had circled half away around the balcony and there was only a few guards left.

Frustration began to take over. He began to feel like a fool, and he was getting steadily more annoyed with his father for sending him to a girl he could not even find and didn't seem to even want him here. He had just moved on to the next guard when something caught his eye. He stopped mid-stride and went back to the guard he had just examined.

He saw what he thought he was looking for. The guard stood motionless like all the others. But a scar peeked out from the mask around the left eye. It was a deep scar and Seungcheol could tell it was made by a sword.

Smirking, Seungcheol gently removed the silver mask from the hidden face and with his other hand brought the capes black hood down. He could see how far reaching the scar was now. It traced down the girls neck like a vine. Her hair spilled over her shoulders in long waves and her sharp, bright eyes met his. Shock behind them.

"Empress." He said with a bow.

~ Next Chapter

MASTERLIST

#kpop #x reader #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #fluff #slight spice #angst #kpopmadness writings #kpopmadness stories #fanfictionstories #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen kpop #seventeen s coups #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen stories

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dad-victoriam · 4 years

Text

I have one official character each for Fallout 3 and New Vegas, but In Fallout 4, I have like, three. Two Minutemen Generals and a Railroad Agent. Can you tell which play-through I started while bored and stuck in quarantine?

Lupe Campbell

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Pale Blue

Sexuality: Bisexual

Nicknames: General, Madam President, Ma, Lulu

Preferred Weapon: Custom Laser Rifle

Faction: Commonwealth Minutemen

Best Friend: Nick Valentine

Love Interest: Preston Garvey

Has never done anything wrong in her life ever.

Preston knows this, and he loves her.

They have Team Mom and Team Dad Energy.

Sturges says they’re gross about it, but one time they got in a fight and he nearly cried because he though they were going to break up.

Is freakishly strong and constantly concerns and astounds people watching her carry and lift things.

Once physically lifted Hancock up over her head and carried him to the time-out corner when he was antagonizing Danse.

He lives in constant fear of being manhandled again.

Her karma is so pristine it’s practically blinding.

Loves helping Nick on cases, always looks for an excuse to wear the trench coat and fedora.

Has unique sense of fashion, thinks the Minutemen General Cosplay is high couture, only wears high-waist Mom Jeans.

Had joined up with the Brotherhood for a little bit, but after Danse got kicked out she left.

Actually, what happened was she stormed into Maxon’s office, lectured him in a way only a mom could, told him she wasn’t mad, just disappointed and then left the Prydwen and hasn’t returned since.

Maxon locked himself in his quarters afterwards to brood, not to cry, he definitely didn’t cry.

(He cried a little bit)

Danse joined the Minutemen after that. It was like the Brotherhood, but they were as loyal to him as he was to them. It really helped him cope and renewed his sense of purpose.

Lupe and Preston are proud of him.

Everyone jokes that he’s like their son behind their backs. Hancock got caught once (see above mentioned physical lifitng).

Her Mom Energy is so potent that legit most of the companions and even some of the Minutemen and Sanctuary settelers gave her the nickname ‘Ma’

Does not drink, does not smoke, what does she do?

She delivers Justice.

Fox Hawthorne

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/ Her

Hair Color: Ginger

Eye Color: Green

Sexuality: Lesbian

Nicknames: Whisper (Deacon) Renarde (Curie)

Preferred Weapon: Silenced Sniper Rifle

Faction: The Railroad

Best Friend: MacCready

Love Interest: Curie

Closeted Pre-War, had a family to please her mother, actually pretty sad, doesn’t like talking about it except where Shaun is concerned.

“Fox” is not her real name but she refuses to tell anyone what it really is and there’s no way for them to ever find out for sure.

Deacon once snuck down to the vault to see if it was on record somewhere only to find out she was one step ahead of him.

She hacked the records and wherever her true name had been was replaced with a string of emojis.

🦊🍑👅🖕🏻

Codsworth is programmed to call her “Miss Fox” and does not understand the fact that she has another name so he’s no help either.

She can NOT stand staying in Sanctuary (too many memories) and renovated the Red Rocket station nearby to keep her stuff in.

A settlement formed around it and they’re pretty friendly with their Minutemen neighbors even though Preston is constantly trying to get Fox to join the cause.

She will not, she thinks the outfits are tacky, but secretly still goes out of her way to help settlements.

Curie loves it when she does that.

Her relationship with MacCready is summed up by ‘Pure of Heart, Dumb of Ass / Lesbian’.

Do Not Separate Them.

They platonically raise Shaun and Duncan together.

“This is our dad, and this is our mom, and this is our mom’s girlfriend, Curie.”

Two Snipers Out In The Commonwealth Doing Sniper Things.

He literally pouts every time Fox leaves him at Red Rocket to do Railroad Missions with Deacon.

Curie keeps him company, they get along stupendously.

Other than Railroad Missions, or Settlement Rescue Mission Dates with Curie, Fox and MacCready are joined at the hip and are off doing dumb shit.

Always return to Red Rocket with broken noses, dislocated shoulders, cuts, bumps, and bruises and Curie has to patch them up.

Fox claims her kisses have healing properties.

She’s flirting, but Curie thinks she’s serious and has offered to kiss MacCready’s wounds as well.

He had to politely decline multiple times for fear of facing certain death via sandman kill.

The weirdest trio in the Commonwealth.

No one understands their dynamic.

It works because all three of them are the awkward third wheel of the friendship.

Gender: ???

Pronouns: They/Them

Hair Color: ???

Eye Color: ???

Sexuality: Pansexual

Nicknames: Commonwealth Cryptid

Preferred Weapon: Molotov Cocktail

Faction: Commonwealth Minutemen

Best Friend: Dogmeat

Love Interest: Hancock

Has good intentions, but bad methods.

Takes their title as General of the Minutemen very seriously.

Makes sure every settlement has enough food, water, and defense.

Spends hours decorating and making them look nice.

Could have a promising future (or past?) in architecture and interior design.

Intelligence stat is either 1 or 10, no one knows.

All their strategies are chaotic and crackpot but like; they work???

Chooses the Sarcastic response 100% of the time.

Low-Key devout member of the Children of Atom.

Wears assault gas mask and only ever takes off the mask when they’re furious and deadly serious, or you know, when they’re going to sleep.

Legitimately no one, not even the companions, knows what they look like, or even if they’re human or not.

Hancock knows, because he’s seen them naked, but refuses to tell anyone because he lives for the chaos and will constantly make up fake shit just to fuck with the rest of the group.

Hancock is the only living individual who knows what their face looks like.

Piper tried to see if Shaun knew anything and was like, “are you not even a little curious?”

The kid just shrugged, and like, messed around with a Laser Sniper Rifle he was making and was like “they’re my parent. That’s just how they are. I like them the way they are”.

MacCready swears up and down that he saw them turn their head 180 degrees like an owl one time.

Hancock backed him up, but he was huffing jet and laughing his ass off the whole time so no one knows if he was serious.

Gives “let’s get this freak show on the road” a whole new connotation.

Can only shop at Diamond City Surplus at night because Crazy Myrna refuses to sell to them.

She thinks they’re a synth and will not take “No, I’m Jangles the Moon Monkey” as an answer.

Definitely did blow up the Prydwen.

Stole Maxon’s jacket.

Has the Cannibalism perk.

It’s just practical, there are lots of dead bodies everywhere and food is scarce. If they eat a raider, then somehow, somewhere, there’s a Fancy Lad Snack Cake left for a starving orphan to eat.

No one else seems to see it this way.

Loves Brahmin.

I mean, really loves them.

Will stop whatever they’re doing to pet one if they see one.

If they’re working as part of a caravan, they’ll call them Ma’am and apologize for disrupting their work, but will still pet them.

Caravan Guards who see this behavior: ?????

Maxed Stealth and Pickpocket perks

Is a Little Sneak Thief

All their armor has Chameleon Legendary effects.

This stresses everyone out because that means they can be anywhere at any time and oh my God, where are they? I know they’re in here with me, where are they???

Once snuck up on MacCready (accidentally) and pulled an actual full swear word out of the guy. It was loud.

And it was the Fuck word.

It’s Bo’s proudest achievement.

Was totally on board with being the Overboss of Nukaworld until Gage suggested raiding Commonwealth Settlements.

They take their title as General of the Minutemen very very seriously.

They took off the mask, and all of Nukaworld saw their face that day. T’was brutal.

I’m talking “Rip and tear until it is done”.

I’m talking heavy metal theme music and everything.

It’s a nice and peaceful little trader settlement now. Bo planted flowers everywhere.

So, did you guess which one I started cuz I was bored in quarantine, yet? Did you guess all three? You would be correct.

#i have no explanation #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout 3 #fallout new vegas #fallout oc #incorrect fallout #preston garvey #fallout hancock #fallout maccready #fallout curie #fallout deacon #dogmeat #nick valentine

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halfusek · 4 years

Note

1) I have a theory regarding what happens in Abomination. As you had explained, both timelines, both in Real World and Story World were connected until the break in Story World occurs with the death of S!Thomas, but there are some details that I consider important to understand the reason why Magenta did that. You mentioned that that death altered what was going to happen in the future in Story World, what if it happened... But what if S!Joey did it on purpose to avoid the same fate as

Hey ho hello there! Thank you for submitting this theory, it definitely isn’t a nuisance to me, I absolutely love it when people dive so deep into my story and have so many thoughts about it, I’m flattered! :D

And while it’s an interesting theory, I’ll tell you right off the bat that Magenta doesn’t really have that kind of insight to the reader’s mind nor mine. The 4th wall breaks indeed are supposed to be meta but it also was kind of a jab at the real Joey in that moment from him. There is no input from me as a “character” in the story, as Abomination was supposed to be a theory turned into a comic all along I’m only including there events which I have thought to be possible to be canon [with exceptions for a few “OCs” I had to make - random employees to fullfill other roles].

But there is of course a reason why story Joey is aware of, well, being in a story as there is a reason for him to act different than the real Joey! :D

Characters from the real world being now in the story world are more exaggerated, more “cartoony” as in the values that pop out most about them in reality, pop out here to the max. As for the story itself, their reality consist only of things relevant to the story. And finally, there’s this whole thing with the objectives these characters have and how they interpret them.

In a sense they are different characters. Especially those that haven’t died in real life.

But at the same time they are kind of the same person. Especially those that died in real life.

With a few exceptions here and there. :)

And this is where my answer is gonna get long with pictures attached and rambling so I’m gonna put the rest under the cut~

So, you know how there’s the Tombstone Picnic cartoon with it’s missing ending, right? As in - in the canon Bendy universe - when Bendy runs away from a skeleton and there’s a shadowy figure standing over him which he looks up and smiles and the screen goes black.

I’ve referrenced it a few times throughout the comic because it’s really important.

Like this old-ass panel comes from Part 2 and some events happening in it are Joey and Bendy watching the episode with Bendy getting uncomfortable about being imperfect - he looks at what’s supposed to be his arms and legs.

Generally parts 1-4 aren’t my proudest work art-wise nkjdf but there’s some things Very important to my little universe here.

I’d say especially pay attention to panel 101 in this batch.

Then, eons later, there’s part 33 and it’s one that got a few people confused that the comic is ending because this is the title I gave it when posted:

With the last panel of this part like this:

Because, technically, this is where the story of the real studio ends and is a turning point of the comic. So, in a way, it is the end. But not the end of the story.

What I assumed with the world of Bendy was that there are two worlds: the real one and the story one which is more like a cartoon. Not just because the story world looks cartoon, it even acts like one with repeating over and over again and not being able to change what’s been done in it [save for few details].

An ending of a very important cartoon episode is missing and never comes and that’s probably what is on the end reel that Henry plays when he comes around but playing the end doesn’t stop things from repeating, it simply puts an end to the current iteration of the cycle.

Back to the comic’s timeline - the story world is created.

I’m a silly goose, I know. :^)

Story Joey gets created and yeeted into the story world asmr - that’s panels from part 35 and it’s very short and weird. It’s not entirely meant to be taken literally.

It starts from little parallels between story Joey and story Henry - at least for how it is in my universe, they are both looping and starting from reading a letter from each other’s real life counterparts.

In the next part [36] this is what story Joey is looking at when he breaks the 4th wall and this is where the events start changing and he kills Thomas before he quits - generally part 36 is the “equivalent” of part 18 with some repeated panels and some a bit edited and these entirely new from the new timeline. But this is all for laying down the differences betwen real and story Joey off the bat.

You could say that real Joey “would do anything to make his dreams possible” but reastically speaking you’d expect a person to have some kind of brakes, that stop them from doing literally anything. Well, as story Joey is an exaggerated version of real Joey, those brakes kind of get done. He’s dead pan fixated on doing literally anything. And as real Joey on his way of moral decay accepted murder as a solution sometimes, story Joey kind of just doesn’t hesitate.

Another thing about parts 18 and 36 is the mention of Henry.

I haven’t gotten on it quite yet with the story Joey but what I’m gonna say is this: take real Joey’s obsession with blaming Henry for leaving mixed with leftover feelings he has for him and try to... simplyfy them and turn them Up.

Spoilers: it’s a mess.

OKAY BUT GOING BACK TO THE TOMBSTONE PICNIC WHICH IS REALLY WHAT MATTERS IN THIS RAMBLE-

In part 35 I lay down that I chose Joey to be the shadow in Tombstone Picnic.

At the time I took this decision I did it because I figured it just suits my version of the story better but honestly as of now I’m ever more convinced that it’s the case.

Because the reason why it being Henry would be cool is that if he was in a cartoon then he could be imprinted from this part of the reel - as this is apparently what’s needed in universe to print ink figures - so this is how in-game Henry would come to be.

BUT

Now DCTL has confirmed that regular humans can get inked and in BATDR trailers we met Audrey that kinda just looks like a cartoonified person which is very likely what happened to Henry. Also there’s this part in DCTL:

When Buddy Boris wakes up after being turned his Boris - cartoon - part of their mind is awoken. He sees a shadowy figure that seems dysproportional to him implying he sees someone with human-like proportions.

Then Buddy wakes up and he sees... Joey.

To me the parallel is pretty straight-forward tbh ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But, of course, I decided for it to be Joey long before DCTL came out so I guess it’s just a cool thing to point out lol

The one thing with how I presented it in part 35 is that Joey wears the labcoat - technically he shouldn’t be wearing it, he should look like Joey usually looked like when the cartoon was made - in 1929. But not gonna lie it makes more sense for the shadowy figure to look like that with the coat included :P

And so story Joey takes away the ending by... literally ripping it away, tearing it from the reel. It’s kinda literal and kinda a metaphor.

The explanation for it is my main point here. Why I brought up that story characters are kinda different from real characters.

Because story Joey IS his own character. He’s been his own character since 1929. He’s literally a print of the cartoon. Right from the Tombstone Picnic reel.

Both he and THE END.

And here’s a little theory/headcanon - I’d like to think that cartoon reels/parts of them used for printing cartoon figures kind of just... get erased from the universe. It would explain why we never get to see that part of the cartoon and why things like that happen in the Handbook:

Ah, a convenient random splash of ink.

So, that’s why story Joey is literally ripping the end away from the cartoon world, because this part is being taken away. Forever.

And what happens with Henry ending the story is that he... imprints the ending itself.

The end is brought to life, and the end = death and welp to me it appears that Henry has the role of the “reaper” as he’s connected to maaaaaaanyyyy death themes, literally called to “be one to bring death” and can get a cool scythe.

Soooo story Joey isn’t just story version of the real Joey, he’s not just Joey 2.0.

He’s the shadowy figure and essentially - a toon.

That was the main thought of this ramble but as I’m on it I’ll throw more stuff linked to this:

In part 41 story Joey visits Bendy for the first time in the story world - real Joey did it right after Thomas tried to quit, but again, story Joey had different priorities.

And. Throwback. Remember part 2? Where Bendy and real Joey watched the Tombstone Picnic? The reason here it’s Tasty Trio Troubles is kinda because in part 40 Butcher Gang figures were created from Lacie, Shawn and Grant so this is like a follow-up.

But back to part 2. Bendy was uncomfortable with his lack of limbs back then.

Parts 1-2 and 41 have a few panels that are intentionally drawn to look similiar or almost the same even, same with dialogue, like that:

Never trust me when I do that.

The reason is because-

I’m a clown. :o)

#WOW THIS GOT LONG IM SORRY FDNFDLK #im very passionate about me lore #bendy and the ink machine #abomination #joey drew #bendy the dancing demon #the ink demon #story!joey #halfpost #long post #body horror #squish #magenta #halfask

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dailytomlinson · 4 years

Link

“There were times I struggled to find my place in the band,” Louis admits today.

But it’s often the quiet ones you’ve got to look out for.

Behind the scenes he was very much centre stage: Louis was the mouthpiece, constantly fighting the boys’ corner and acting as chief negotiator between band and management.

“Being from Doncaster,” he says, “I’ve never had a problem with telling anyone ‘no’.”

“There was a while when I was worried I was getting left behind – some of the boys are on to their second album now,” he says, taking a draw onthe first of several cigarettes. “At times, I’ve been swimming against the tide, working out who I am. I was trying to find a way back into the industry, thinking of it mathematically rather than going off feeling and emotion.”

He’s referring to collaborations with Bebe Rexha and Steve Aoki in 2016 and 2017 respectively, which, although successful, weren’t where his heart lay. With Kill My Mind – the exhilarating ’90s-inspired opening track of the album Walls – he sets his stall out with a clear departure from anything he’s done before.

Walls is about regret, reflection and ultimately, hope, and feels like Louis, who sings in his still-broad Doncaster accent, has finally found his voice.

“I’ve always wanted to be autobiographical and honest. And in the last six months the songs I’ve written and recorded are of a better standard because there’s an honesty there,” he says.

Honesty certainly characterises the album, sometimes devastatingly so. There’s no escaping the fact that Louis, 28, has faced unimaginable pain over the last few years.

“It wasn’t until after I’d written it that I realised how much vulnerability I’d put in there,” he says. “When I first performed it… I had fans coming up to me in tears telling me their stories, and that’s not something I’ve ever had before. And to do it on that level about something so delicate… It was really cool to take something so dark and make people feel like that.

“I had to get a song like that off my chest. It was difficult writing about things that felt trivial compared to what was going on in my life. There was, I think, a necessity to write that song before I could move on creatively.”

Understandably, Louis won’t talk specifically about Félicité. But when asked about how grief has shaped him both as a man and an artist, he pays tribute to Jay.

“I think it’s a credit to how my mum brought me up that I have a resilience,” he says. “There’s nothing I want less than to have people feel sorry for me, so having that mentality has helped me through the hardest of times.

"I’ve also felt a real support system through my fans. I’d always felt it on a lower level, but when it’s something so impactful and life-defining, I really did feel it from them.”

Days after Jay’s death, Louis appeared live on The X Factor to perform Just Hold On with Aoki.

He was clearly in pieces and it was hard enough just watching, but somehow he held it together, presumably thanks again to that resilience.

“Sometimes it’s fight or flight,” Louis explains. “And the way I was brought up and because of where I’m from, I only see one option in that situation. I also wanted to put myself second and do it for my mum.

"That moment was bigger than me and it was actually incredibly liberating. It used every bit of strength and power and I look back on that performance as one of the proudest moments of my career.”

He says he tends not to suppress emotion and is able to share his darkest points with those he’s closest to.

But as the eldest of Jay’s seven children (five girls and two boys), he also feels a huge weight of responsibility towards his younger siblings and hasn’t had any professional therapy himself.

“No, no, nothing like that. That might be down to a bit of Northern pride, but I have a lot of responsibility on my shoulders and that drives me. I’ve got siblings who look up to me and I’ve got my grandparents as well. So all those things keep my head screwed on.

“My mum had a massive influence on me and I lived with a lot of sisters in the house, so I do find it easier to speak about my emotions. But I’m also from Doncaster, where to be a guy is to be tough and traditional and I feel like [there are] times where pride kicks in and I just say I’m all right.

"I’m lucky that I’ve got good people around me who I can trust and who I can be completely vulnerable with and say how I feel. Nine times out of 10, I don’t bottle things up. I wear my heart on my sleeve.”

They sold 20 million albums worldwide, earning over £40million each, but the pressures of fame were, at times, intolerable. Louis says they were only able to keep their heads screwed on because they had each other.

“You can never be prepared for that. It was such a head f**k. But we grounded each other so the minute one of us acted like a d**khead one of the others would say: ‘Stop being a d**khead’. I see people in this job surrounding themselves with superiority and they lose the concept of the real world.”

He remembers doing a shoot with the band for Pepsi over in the States with American footballer Drew Brees.

“This guy was like a god and we were insignificant when he was around, which we understood. But I’ve never seen anything like it. Every sentence that came out of his mouth he’d have an audience of hangers-on in hysterics.

"These people were so far up his arse and he didn’t have one good joke. He had no banter! I still hang around with my boys from Doncaster and I hear real stories all the time, which helps me understand the world that unfortunately I don’t get to see. Having empathy with people and a connection with the world is imperative for any songwriter.”

Harry Styles recently said that he never touched drugs during his time in the band (although he’s made up for that since), because he didn’t want to “mess it up”. Louis smiles as he confides that he can’t say the same.

“All I’ll say is that I did my fair share and enjoyed my time in the band. It’s right what Harry said and it was smart of him, but I definitely had a lot of fun in the band. I was always aware of how amazing the opportunity was, but also enjoying the moment for what it was. I lived like anyone else my age – the difference was that I was in One Direction.”

He’s in touch with Harry, Niall and Liam “sporadically” (we’ll come to Zayn shortly), but they’re all on very different paths for now.

“If we all went to a pub tomorrow it’d be like we’d never left. The enormity of what happened in One Direction creates a massive bond and we’ll always have that.

"There have been times when we’ve done each other’s heads in. There might be something I say in an interview that bugs Liam or vice versa, but we all know what each other is like and we can call each other up and say sorry for being a d**k. We’re like brothers.”

But that’s not necessarily the case with Zayn, who quit in 2015 and with whom Louis has had a turbulent relationship since. He was hurt when Zayn was the only one not to turn up at the X Factor studio to support him through his performance after Jay’s death, despite promising to be there.

Then there’s Zayn’s apparent repeated digs. In one interview he branded 1D’s music “generic as f**k”. There’s a difference between making a break from the past and dismissing it completely, and it’s a line Zayn perhaps hasn’t always managed to walk.

“Hmm,” agrees Louis, cautiously. “Other than maybe Niall, there is no one who is prouder of the band and the songs we created than me. But while what I did with One Direction is relevant, it doesn’t define who I am and I don’t struggle to make that dissociation.”

Does he think some of what Zayn has said has been disrespectful?

“Yeah, I do. But I can understand it. We have a lot of situations where we’re sat in interviews and if you’re in a certain mood you might run your mouth. The older you get the more you can tell if these things actually carry any malice or if they’re just a prod in the back. That’s life, innit? Sometimes people chat s**t and that’s the reality.”

He’s not ruling out resolving their differences in the future, but there’s no olive branch on the horizon.

“No, but I’ve not actively tried. We’ve all got a lot on our plates and there might be a day where I wake up and think: ‘OK, I want to right that wrong’, but not yet.”

After being in his company for a while, it’s not hard to see why Louis was 1D’s driving force backstage. He’s thoughtful, articulate, open and self-aware, but there’s a steeliness to him and the requisite pop-star swagger, which doesn’t seem to spill over into arrogance.

And that is reflected in his music, which is heavily influenced by the Arctic Monkeys, The Smiths and Oasis. In fact, the title track and latest single Walls sounds so similar to Oasis B-side and fans’ favourite Acquiesce that Louis’ manager flagged it as a potential issue.

“These kinds of things happen. There are only so many melodies you can write and if you listen to a band all the time like I do with Oasis…”

Anyway, says Louis. He had to make a choice.

“I was ready to risk it, but everyone said we should get in touch with Noel [Gallagher] so we did. Often the industry, and especially Noel’s world, can be a bit snobby and say: ‘F**k you you’re not using this song’. But he was really cool about it, signed it off no problem and although I’m sure he’s not happy about this, I f**king am, I’ve got a writing credit from Noel Gallagher on my album. That is some sick s**t so I’m buzzing.”

Is he nervous about going it alone? “I think I’ve got a good record so I’m confident. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t little bit nervous – there’s three and half years work gone into it so there’s a level of anticipation.”

The most overwhelming emotion though, is relief.

“Because it’s taken such a long time. I’m excited to go on to the next phase of my career.”

#louis tomlinson #tw death #020220 #wpress #tw drug #fizzy tomlinson #the sun #fabulous magazine #im tired alrady #stunt mention #i cleared it up

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the-kings-of-games · 3 years

Text

i’m not popular enough to get tons of asks, but I pushing off zine work and secret santa so fanfic writer asks! (YGO only)

1. What’s your favorite character(s) to write for?

Answered here

2. What character(s) do you find the most difficult to write for? Why?

Characters that don’t get much of a reaction from me from the beginning or at any point, and characters I have never considered writing before (like Bruno). Never feel like I’d write them so I never put thought in their character and stories.

3. Do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from [Fanfic Name] story/chapter?

Yeah, from Two Fingers Crossed Over Your Lips, Chapter 8: Domestics (Orinthoptershipping). It’s when Crow is laying on top of Bruno on the couch, and they share a kiss. Crow is flirty, and Bruno is cute. I think this is the best example of my portrayal of Crow, lol.

4. Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of [Fanfic Name]?

No, for the most part, I end up using pretty much everything I write out. I’m the kind of person to go back and cut out entire scenes because I tend to write out scenes I like/want to do and find ways to connect them together. It can be kind of counterproductive because some scenes might actually pull you away from the plot you wanted, but I never never plot before I write, lol.

It doesn’t mean, however, that that I have never ended up writing something bigger than I expected. Currently, it’s The Supreme King’s Husband (Prologue) because I just wanted to add in Yūsei and Kizuna, omgs. QWQ

5. Do you listen to music when writing?

Yes, I do. It both keeps me focused and distracted at the same time.

6. If you listen to music when writing, what [do] you listening to when writing [Fanfic Name]?

A lot of Joji, Jack Strauder, Oliver Tree, CUCO, and the like. Pretty much this mix.

7. What story/headcanons do you feel the proudest of?

I really love my headcanon of Crow being masculine leaning genderfluid afab (assigned female at birth). It’s really fun exploring this headcanon, and I always write Crow with this in mind. However, it’s only 5D’s Crow, not Arc-V Crow. They are both Crow but, in a lot of ways, are essentially two different characters, and I’m very attached to the former. Crow didn’t start doing he/him stuff until he was, like, nine, and Yūsei and Jack have been super supportive about it since the beginning. Crow was she one day, and he the next day. Still Crow. ^^ This is from one of my many Crow WIPs:

"It doesn’t matter how I look or what I call myself, I’d always be their friend, and they’d always be my brothers. The bond we share is irreplaceable, and I’m thankful to have met them in the first place. They’ve always supported me, and they know it’s my right to tell people about me, when and how. If I wanted it to be different, they’d be the first one to know. As it is right now, though, I’m happy with the way I am."

Crow has two feminine outfits he wears occasionally: a yellow dress with red flats (a gift from his girls), and a yellow blouse with a green plaid skirt and black knee highs. To go with these looks, he wears his hair down with his headband around his neck and shiny lip loss Trudge bought for him.

8. Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi chaptered stories?

One-shots by a long shot, lmao. That being said, I sometimes don’t finish one-shots either.

9. If you had to assign a theme song to [Fanfic Name], which would you assign?

I don’t think in music. I do that thing where you pick a song and write a fic with it but not the other way around.

10. What is the line you’re proudest of from [Fanfic Name]?

One of my favorites, from the aforementioned Chapter 8: Domestics (Ornitoptershipping):

Closing his eyes, Bruno was taken back to the beach, the one he woke up at with no memories, but this time, he didn't feel the confusion, nor the faint touch of grief at the bottom of his heart. Instead, he only felt the quiet crash of the waves on his skin, the sun shining brightly over his head. This was now a memory he remembered twice.

(I really like this one-shot a lot, lol.)

11. How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

A lot of dialogue, stream of conscious narrative. I think. I never really thought about it.

12. Who is your favorite author?

I don’t really have one at the moment. I don’t read a lot, lol.

13. When did you start writing fanfic?

I got more serious about it in high school, but I think I started during middle school? KHR was a thing then, lol.

14. How do you feel about your older work?

Answered here

15. What is the fanfic you’ve written that you’re most proud of?

From YGO, probably The Distance of Time which features Orinthoptershipping. It’s very dialogue heavy, but it was a lot of fun. I’m very thankful of the people who took the time to read it, and even more those who commented and gave feedback.

16. What fanfic tropes do you avoid writing for?

I don’t do gore, violence, or torture. I don’t dislike them, I just don’t write them (so I don’t have any practice either).

17. What fanfic tropes do you gravitate to writing for?

I love ones that explore the idea of soulmates. I’m a big fan of the soulmates AU, but I love the different ways that people just complete each other that borders on more realism than trope. I mostly write fluff though, and attempts at humor because I think I’m funny.

18. Do you prefer editing as you write, or waiting until it’s finished?

I edit as a I write, which is bad because I don’t edit afterwards and miss typos (lol) and sometimes makes writing take longer to finish.

19. What words do you think you tend to use the most?

Epithets probably; otherwise, I don’t know.

20. What feedback makes you the happiest to hear?

I love comments that think my pacing is good and my character interpretations are great. If someone tells me that they can imagine this happening in canon, I’m over the moon.

21. Is there an idea you’ve always wanted to write, but haven’t yet?

Yes, and they’re all WIPs.

22. Do you enjoy making OCs for your fanfics, or prefer sticking to canon characters?

I mostly stick to canon characters and don’t like doing OCs (unless they’re extras or side characters). Writing OCs makes me a little uncomfortable actually because I fear veering into self-inserts which I cannot write because that’s even worse than doing OCs. The only OCs I like do are OC babies of my favorite ships.

For YGO, I currently have two: Sky Hogan, the daughter of Crow (Papa), Jack (Father), and Yūsei (Dad); and Mira Princeton, the daughter of Chazz (Mama) and Jaden (Dad).

23. How much do you stick to canon?

I try to write characters based off of canon as much as possible. If I don’t see a character doing something, then I don’t write them doing that thing. I’m more about filling in blank spaces than trying to rewrite inked ones.

24. Do you prefer AUs with the characters, or sticking to the original universe?

I do original universe most of the time.

25. What scene in [Fanfic Name] took the longest to write? What was difficult about it?

Smut scenes because they are pretty much one continuous scene, lololol. There’s no scene changes for the most part, so keeping up momentum is a must and a difficulty.

26. Are titles for your stories easy to come up with?

I suck at making titles. I can have whole fics done but back petal so hard because I forgot to give it title.

27. What time of day do you prefer to write?

Past bedtime.

28. Is there a part of [Fanfic Name] you’re surprised no one has picked up on yet?

I’m not sure what this is asking, lol.

29. What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc)

Writing it. I don’t brainstorm or outline, I just write what comes to mind. I brainstorm only if I need to connect things together. Finishing it is a close second.

30. Do you write down all your ideas? What makes you decide to write one versus the other?

I never write down my ideas; it’s either I start on a WIP or I don’t. What I decide to write depends on my mood.

31. What was the development process of [Fanfic Name] like?

I write for three hours and produce only a thousand words, smh. Agony.

32. What story do you think showcases your signature style the most?

Fluff with subtle angst, I guess.

33. Have you ever stopped yourself from writing something? Why?

Yes, because I already have so many WIPs, I shouldn’t start on another one. (Does this stop me? No.)

34. Have you felt emotional while writing a scene before? What scene was it?

I might have, but I have terrible memory. U_U

35. Where’s your favorite place to write?

In my bed in the dark, on my phone. (Computers tire me out after a while.)

36. What fanfic of yours has the symbolism you’re proudest of?

I’m not sure what symbolism is.

37. Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

Yes, but it will be a really big learning experience because I’m using to have most, if not all, control over my writing. I try to be open, but getting used to new things is hard, you know?

38. What story of yours are you surprised that people liked as much as they did?

Honestly, for YGO, any of them. The feedback for YGO isn’t a lot, lol, or it’s because I write characters/ships/tropes a lot of people don’t go for? I’m just glad I now know the people who like my stuff. I know my writing is good, but I won’t force people to read it.

39. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

Characterization, if I’m not being too big-headed, lol.

40. What area of writing do you want to improve in?

I need to stop feeling the urge to rush ending and give the settings more details.

#yugioh #Kizunashipping #ornithoptershipping #i have three zines and one secret santa on my to-do list #lmao #im lazy but like to talk about myself #i do indeed have a big head #Flame muses

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beca-mitchell · 5 years

Text

can't we just (sleep)talk?

Summary: Chloe bears witness to Beca’s sleeptalking problem.

Word count: 3213

For @kimmania to fulfill the conditions of my Bechloe/Planned Parenthood fundraiser. Thank you to everybody who donated. I still have it open for a few more days, but in total with my own FB friends’ donations, we’ve raised $500! That’s incredible, so thank you all. I am going to slowly work through the prompts I have received.

I hope you enjoy!

Title is loosely based on “Talk” by Khalid.

Read on AO3 or below.

It is the night before finals at the Lincoln Center. The Bellas are all abuzz with jittery nervousness.

Chloe just wants to sleep.

She smiles at the sight of Aubrey gracefully accepting the pillow Lily offers her, though she holds it warily for a moment, like she does not know what to do it.

Her steadiness is gone in a flash, however, and her entire body relaxes just before she’s swinging the pillow with precision and deadly accuracy.

Chloe does a quick headcount and smiles to herself when she realizes who is missing from their impromptu Bellas gathering in hers and Aubrey’s room.

She slips away, unnoticed.

– – – – – – – – – –

Right to Beca's hotel room.

“Hey,” Chloe greets when Beca opens her hotel room door. “You’re missing all the destressing.”

Beca smiles wryly and opens the door wider to allow Chloe in. “So are you, then. If you’re here.”

“No Bella should be alone on the evening of their first finals competition,” Chloe recites. She nudges Beca with her shoulder playfully when she brushes past, ignoring Beca’s grumbling in lieu of gasping when she notices Beca’s laptop and headphones. “Please don’t tell me you’re working on last minute setlist changes, Bec.”

Like she does whenever Chloe’s nickname for her slips past her lips, Beca’s brow furrows, but only for a moment. “I’m not,” she promises. “I’m just…” she gestures at the bed. “Listening to music.”

Chloe picks up on her tone right away. Following Beca’s lead, she perches on the edge of the bed and waits for more instruction from Beca – Beca who has been more open recently, but whom Chloe knows to be conscious of her own space at any given time. Beca glances up at her as she resettles on her bed. Beca grabs her headphones and just as Chloe thinks Beca is about to leave her hanging, Beca unplugs her headphones from her laptop and begins neatly wrapping up the cord.

“Want to...watch some YouTube videos with me?” Beca offers.

Chloe refrains from nodding quickly and leaping onto the bed with excitement.

“I would love that.”

– – – – – – – – – –

“Have you ever watched one of those hot dog eating contests?”

“God, please, no–okay, yep. We’re watching it.”

– – – – – – – – – –

“Oh, this twenty-five ways to tie a scarf video would have been helpful. I still can’t decide how I want to wear my scarf tomorrow.”

Beca snorts. “As helpful as twenty-five ways to cook a chicken?” A pause. “It’d be cute as a belt," she suggests quickly, then proceeds to avoid Chloe's eyes.

– – – – – – – – – –

Beca’s recommended videos include a lot of movie soundtracks and top forty hits. Chloe swallows at the memory of how they had all banded together to help Beca put together an ideal setlist while also making up with Jesse.

Chloe tries not to be jealous, she really does. She wants Beca to be happy and safe and loved .

Chloe just doesn’t know how to show she can provide those exact things for Beca.

“Pick a song,” Beca says suddenly, startling Chloe out of her brief reprieve.

Chloe is disoriented when she comes to. The room is dark and she is snug and comfortable under the sheets. Her back aches a little bit because she is still propped up a little against the headboard, but a pillow was placed behind her lower back and the comforter was pulled up over her lap.

That would be sweet enough on its own if it weren’t for the fact that Beca – Chloe hopes it’s Beca in the darkness – is pressed up against her side, essentially cuddled into Chloe’s side. They’re barely touching, but they are close enough that Chloe can feel the warmth radiating off Beca’s back.

A part of her wants to lie down completely and wrap Beca up in her arms, but she figures that would be weird and crossing more boundaries than she already crossed when she barged in Beca’s shower. Not her proudest moment.

Chloe sighs and tries to figure out how to move from the bed without too much creaking or jostling.

“For you,” Beca mumbles.

Chloe blinks away the last dredges of sleep. “Beca?” she whispers. A quick glance past the gap in the hotel room’s blinds and she can see that it is still dark outside. Another quick glance over to the other bed in the room and she can tell that Amy is yet to return. “Beca,” she tries again, louder.

“Chloe,” Beca responds, sounding awake and yet, not. Chloe frowns and props herself up on her elbow so she can lean over Beca’s side, careful not to brush unnecessarily against Beca’s body. “Chlo,” she repeats, slurring a little on the lone syllable.

“Is that my nickname?” Chloe asks distractedly, trying to force her eyes to adjust in the dark. She isn’t even sure what she’s saying, ready to tease the hell out of Beca if she’s sleep talking. Beca continues to be an enigma – adorable and mysterious all at once.

“The vending machine.”

Chloe frowns at the change in topic. Or perhaps there was never a topic to begin with. She’s so tired. “Do you need something?” she asks.

Beca doesn’t respond for a moment, then she heaves a sigh as if she is irritated or exasperated. “It plays music,” she murmurs, somehow both reverent and impatient.

Chloe nearly sags in relief. It takes additional energy to further not burst into peals of giggles and risk waking Beca up. “You’re so cute,” she mutters, this time reaching over to gently touch Beca’s cheek to check if she is really asleep. Beca doesn’t bat her hand away. She manages to finally lie down comfortably, sighing in contentment when she does not jostle Beca too much. Instead, it is Beca who seems to wriggle backwards into Chloe’s side, uncomfortably trapping Chloe’s arm to her side.

As Chloe drifts off, she makes a mental note to tease Beca about it tomorrow after their performance. And maybe ask Beca if she wants to get coffee. Or maybe a quick bite for dinner. Just them.

“Just the way you are,” Beca murmurs, sounding more tired than before.

Chloe tries not to smile. Beca does not speak again for the rest of the time Chloe remains awake.

– – – – – – – – – –

ii.

Sometimes when Beca sleeptalks, she sings, apparently.

Chloe thinks it is the most adorable thing in the world. She barely restrains from protesting loudly when she overhears Amy complaining about being Beca's roommate – she complains about how Beca is always singing. Awake or dreaming, it doesn't matter to Beca.

The other Bellas giggle.

It is so beautiful to know that Beca lives and breathes music – that it thrums through her veins as poignantly as her own blood.

Chloe hopes to be able to hear it one day.

– – – – – – – – – –

iii.

"Grab me the keyboard," Beca mutters.

Chloe groans, blinking awake because she knows she has an early morning. As awesome as it is that Beca sometimes whispers when she sleeptalks, it is kind of inconvenient to Chloe now that they share a tiny cramped fold-out. Chloe had tried earplugs, but it had nearly made her late for her first day of work because she missed her own alarm.

She doesn't mind it terribly, she thinks as she rolls over to face Beca. Beca is lying on her back, breathing steadily. Her brow is furrowed like she's thinking hard about something important. Chloe hopes it isn't the residual strain and stress of her recent break-up with Jesse.

Slowly, Chloe reaches out to gently touch the furrow of Beca's brow, willing her to relax and slip back into a (hopefully silent sleep).

Still, never one to resist a conversation with Beca, Chloe scoots a little closer. "What are you thinking about?" she asks, wondering if Beca is done for the night. She slowly moves her hand back and away from Beca's face.

"Wait."

Chloe freezes.

"The jukebox," Beca mutters. "Song."

"The jukebox song?" Chloe asks.

Beca mumbles something incoherent, then shifts a little restlessly. Chloe quickly backs away, worried she overstepped an invisible boundary. She hates that her inappropriate crush on her best friend never really went away – she hates the late nights and long days pretending that she isn't completely in love with Beca Mitchell. Beca and all her quirks and music and the way she makes Chloe feel like she's doing something right with her life.

Beca doesn't respond again for another long while, so Chloe resettles on her side of the bed and mirrors Beca's position. She stares up at the ceiling for some time, wondering.

Then, just as she is about to finally drift off again–

"Chloe."

Beca's voice follows her into her dreams.

– – – – – – – – – –

iv.

Sometimes when Beca sleep talks, it is of great interest to Chloe. Not that she isn’t interested in literally everything her girlfriend has to say because Chloe could listen to Beca talk forever (awake or otherwise), but just, sometimes –

Chloe awakes to the sound of her alarm. She groans and slowly grapples for her phone off her bedside to hit the snooze button.

“Hey,” Chloe whispers, when Beca shifts against her back.

Beca groans, then mumbles something completely incoherent. Her arm tenses from where it is draped around Chloe’s waist, then Beca cuddles closer than before.

With how they're lying, curled up against each other, Beca is basically all wrapped around Chloe, her leg draped over Chloe’s thigh to lock Chloe in place. Not that she plans on being anywhere else. Not when Beca's body is warm and Chloe is essentially waking up to her own personal heated blanket.

Beca groans and shifts against Chloe’s back. Her groan sounds like a moan more than anything else.

Chloe especially loves when Beca has interesting dreams.

"Chloe," Beca whimpers.

Oh. Then there's that. The unmistakable whine in Beca's whimper and the way she rocks subtly against Chloe.

"Beca," she whispers back, whether this at all translates into Beca's dreams. Whether she is egging Beca along or slowly waking her up.

There is something in the way Beca says her name – soft and full of wanting. Like she has been dreaming of Chloe all night and she can no longer control herself.

As curious as Chloe is to see where this goes – to see what else Beca can say, she is more interested in what Beca can do.

So she twists in Beca's arms, causing her girlfriend's eyes to flutter open, revealing unmistakable desire behind the haze of confusion typical to somebody when they are just waking.

"Oh," Chloe says, gently nudging at Beca's body so she's lying prone. She presses slow, languid kisses to Beca's neck "Good dream?"

– – – – – – – – – –

Beca is rarely delegated to the couch, but sometimes she just rides the every last edges of Chloe’s nerves and they say things they don’t mean.

Chloe can see the exhaustion in her girlfriend’s eyes, but it doesn’t dim the hurt she feels. It just makes her heart tense painfully. She wishes more than anything for Beca to just talk to her – for Beca to just let her in, but it feels like the walls get higher and higher.

Chloe doesn’t want to beg, but she’s not above doing just that. She can’t lose Beca – not like this.

Sighing in aggravation when she hears only the oppressive silence of her bedroom. No sound of Beca’s teeth grinding together. No sight of Beca drooling on her pillow. No sensation of Beca’s hand wrapped up in Chloe’s t-shirt tightly like she’s afraid to let go.

Chloe wraps her robe around her shoulders and slowly opens her bedroom door. She winces at each creak in the wood panelling, but each step means she gets to be close to Beca again.

She can see the lump that makes up Beca’s body on the couch in the darkness and as her eyes from the streetlights outside her window, more features begin to stand out to her.

Chloe sighs when she notices that Beca has kicked her fleece blanket to the ground. Gathering it up, she pulls it up to Beca's shoulders, ensuring Beca is neatly tucked in.

"Don't go," Beca says, a little loudly. Chloe startles and freezes in her ministrations. She waits a moment and realizes Beca is asleep. Of course she is.

Chloe waits another moment longer before sighing again. "Where would I even go without you?" Chloe replies quietly, knowing she is speaking to Beca's subconsciousness. Knowing that there will be more time for them to talk tomorrow. And the days that follow. She sighs and sits on the loveseat next to the couch, simply watching Beca's face for a moment. "What would I do without you?" she ponders, willing her tears to stay at bay.

"Hey, that's Chloe's!"

Chloe would laugh if she weren't feeling so sad about their fight. Beca legitimately sounds upset about something – verging on angry.

Chloe wonders for a moment how emotions manifest in a person's sleep habits. How emotions control the way your body reacts to new sleeping environments. How human it is to just want to be the subject of somebody's dreams – to be wanted and desired all the same.

"Do you know where it is?" Beca asks, voice muffled against the couch. Chloe smiles and shakes her head. She stands so she can gently move Beca's hair away from her face. Beca is practically pressing her entire face into the back of the couch.

"You're going to suffocate, nerd," Chloe comments, attempting to maneuver Beca's shoulder. She doesn't have to do much work because Beca is rolling over on her own. She sprawls as best as she can on the couch, similar to how she sprawls in their bed. Chloe is filled with utmost affection for the sleeping woman in front of her.

"Headphones," Beca says after a moment. "For your voice."

Then she begins to snore.

"I love you," Chloe murmurs, leaning down again so she can press a kiss to Beca's ear. She lingers, wondering whether touch can translate into sound. She hopes Beca dreams of the most wonderful things.

There is always tomorrow.

– – – – – – – – – –

vi.

“You’re never leaving again,” Chloe declares. She wraps her arms around Beca’s waist and cuddles into her side, ignoring Beca’s grumbles about cold feet and cold hands. “I missed you so much,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to Beca’s cheek, sloppy and light.

She is so happy to have Beca back in her arms. This tour has been grueling.

She tells Beca as much, only to receive an amused chuckle in response before Beca is pressing a kiss to her forehead, then to her nose, then with some playful coaxing – and Chloe’s playful grumbling – a kiss to Chloe’s lips.

Chloe sinks into Beca’s touch like it is their first kiss all over again.

Slowly, Beca allows Chloe to ease her back on the bed and remind her exactly what she has missed during her time away.

– – – – – – – – – –

When Chloe wakes, she is disoriented because of how comfortable she is. She had been sleeping uncomfortably for the past two months because Beca had been away and she had gotten used to the sensation of falling asleep alone and of waking up alone.

She is not alone now, however. She does not need to open her eyes to know that she has her nose pressed into Beca's hair. The familiar smell of gentle, flowery shampoo and the accompanying sensation of Beca's soft, curly hair. Her arm is tucked around Beca's middle securely, like even in her sleep Chloe was unwilling to let her go again.

Good, she thinks, flexing her arm for a moment in a burst of possession and love. Stay forever.

"You're never leaving," she says aloud.

She doesn't expect Beca to respond because Beca's breathing is steady and slow, like she is asleep and resting fitfully. Chloe kind of expects that after all the travelling and performing. Beca works too hard.

She is surprised however, when Beca seems to sigh in her sleep. "Marry me," she says softly.

Chloe freezes. Her limbs stiffen and her brain seems to shut down. All that's left is the pounding of her heart.

She wishes so much for Beca to be awake so that she can give Beca the most enthusiastic and resounding yes she can muster.

But the fact that the thought is on Beca's mind somewhere is enough for the moment. It is enough for the moment that Chloe knows she can hope for that in their future with more confidence.

Of course, Beca would randomly propose to her while sleeptalking. It is so opportune. Chloe has only ever fallen in love slowly with Beca with these private moments – well, pseudo-private. Moments where she can dream and imagine exactly what goes on in Beca's mind. The things she doesn't tell Chloe. Random thoughts and ideas.

It feels kind of ironic that there have been all those one-sided conversations Chloe has had with Beca. Now she wishes desperately for Beca to wake up and join her so they can take this step together. It is additionally more poignant that Chloe has felt less and less inclined to react at all to Beca's sleeptalking because she finds that the real thing is so much better. Beca is open and vibrant and so, so beautiful that it bothers Chloe any moment that Beca isn't awake and making Chloe's day a little brighter.

She sighs and resigns herself to falling back asleep, at least until they can wake up together and decide what take-out to order.

Then, Beca shifts and turns in her arms.

Her eyes are wide-open and she looks a little frightened. "Chloe?" she rasps. "Did you–?"

It takes Chloe a long time to catch up because she's surprised to see Beca's eyes staring back at her.

"Are you asleep?" is what she manages to ask when her mouth catches up to her brain, even if Beca is staring straight at her. Beca, with messy hair and flushed cheeks and a blooming hickey on her neck. Yikes, Chloe thinks distractedly before she lifts her eyes back to Beca's face again.

"Chloe," Beca says softly. "Marry me."

"Am I asleep?" Chloe asks, weaker this time. Her heart continues to pound even as her body slowly unfreezes.

Beca looks like she's trying not to laugh even if desperation shines from her eyes like anchors keeping Chloe at bay. "Chloe," she implores. "Please, will you marry me?"

"A hundred times yes," Chloe finally manages to say. She pinches herself, then she pinches Beca. At Beca's yelp and the residual pain in her own arm, Chloe nods as best as she can, tangling her hair even more as it rubs against her pillow. She could care less. "Beca, yes. I just – I thought you were asleep!" she exclaims.

"I'm not asleep," Beca says. Her hands are a little shaky as she pulls Chloe in for a deep kiss. "I love you," she murmurs. "I love you so much and I never want to be without you."

"This isn't a dream," Chloe mumbles against Beca's mouth. She repeats it, eventually losing steam because Beca is covering her mouth more efficiently with her own and her hands start to wander. "But ask me again–" she pants out, as Beca's lips descend lower, down her chest and stomach.

Beca does, over and over.

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #mine #my fanfic #text #pitch perfect #pp for pp #fundraiser

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