#so amazing that its laughable to even imagine a man caring enough to say even a sentence from them about a female character

[hysteriium]

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆;

(𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞)

(𝐀/𝐧 ): This is the first I’ve posted in ages!!! I can’t recall how long it’s been, life has truly been hectic but I’m getting back on the saddle!!! We’re starting with my boi! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing this! I’ve been experimenting with the way he talks so it’s not as overt as I’ve previously written! I feel like the intonations may break the flow a bit so I’ve tried to make it more cohesive! Lmk what you guys think! Also shout out to my amazing partner @lilliryth​ they’re the light of my life and helped me edit this!! They’re such an amazing person and I would not be where I am today without them. 

( 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ): Wedding. That is all. It’s not what you think. 

( 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ): DK! Joker x Reader. 

( 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ): 7,600+ k words!

( 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ): Angst (very little), swearing, violence. 

The first time you’d asked, he simply stared in disbelief. 

“Come again?” The bright red hues of confusion painted his husky voice. 

The question had been wreaking havoc in your thoughts for the past month, unsure of how to slip out from ambiguity onto the sureness of the tongue. Such a bold yet silly little request was sure to be large and repugnant to the man hovering above you. While the darkness of his eyes was accentuated by his stygian greasepaint, hints of cocoa peeked through, prompting shy flutters of anxiety in your abdomen.  

You can do this.

Your tongue slid across the arid cracks of your lips, wetting them. You cleared your throat, “I need a date to a wed–” 

That was all you could get out before he blinked a few times and strode off.

The second time, albeit similar in difficulty, thankfully didn’t result in him running. 

You tiptoed into his makeshift office with an air of mischief, his room sombre except for the lamp that spotlighted his desk. Hunched over blueprints which you suspected were his next big scheme, his eyes never drifted from the intricacies on the paper. 

“Boo!” You shouted, catching his hips with an unbreakable hold when you closed the distance. While his body tensed, he couldn’t control the breath of amusement that left his nose.

“I can see you really tried there.” 

You knew he followed your stare when his long fingers worked to roll the sheet. They were fast – so fast the pinched ends stuck out in layered rings that almost resembled winding mountainous trails. He couldn’t have curious eyes ogling his extra top secret will-have-to-kill-you-if-you-found-out criminal plans, now could he? 

“What?” you started, while your hands fell and your footsteps whispered away from him. You felt the creases of your mouth wobble, ready to smile at any moment, and so you bit the inside of your tongue. “Don’t you trust me?” 

“No,” he smirked, petting your head. 

Curse his height. 

“Now, uh, what is it, doll?” 

You let your smile leap free, “I need to ask a super dooper big fav–”

“I’m not going.” 

“But whyyyyyy? My parents are harassing me! They think their daughter’s going to grow old and grey and be alone forever.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.” 

You shot him a look, one that only fuelled his amusement.

“J, I can’t just not show up.” 

You watched his figure rise slightly as he drew and released a breath. 

“I don’t like wed–” his tongue stuck out like he’d tasted something bad before he cleared his throat “–dings, they’re full of false hope, drunks and...” he shuddered, “romance. You see, they’ll end up killing each other in a few years. I can picture it now: dearly beloved wife kills cheating husband. Oh how could this have ever happened?” 

He scoffed.

“You’re so dramatic. I promise it would only be for a few hours.”

“And pumpkin, how exactly are you gonna sneak me into a… place like that when I look like this,” he said, hands motioning to his face – mostly his scars. 

It broke your heart. You could've sworn you heard it splinter, the downturn of your brows impossible to hold back. If only words were enough to convey complex feelings, to convey the pile of bricks nestled in your chest, to convey the desperate crave to comfort and rebut, the need to protect – even from himself. You had yet to find a way, and so you were stuck behind the thick lock and chain of language with no key in sight; restricted and bound to tools you never thought were enough, but could only hope were enough.   

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. In his eyes you saw the emotions flicker, almost as tangible as they were transparent – anger, fear, shock. Stood still and stiff, you nodded softly, giving him a smile of equal warmth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”  

He squinted before hesitantly giving in, shifting so his cheek rested against your palm. He had to lower himself a little more to do so. 

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how you look. They’re beautiful, and I’ll keep saying so until there’s no breath left in my lungs.”

You held him ever so gently while he flitted his eyes shut. Your heart galloped then, its swell too big for your body and for a moment, brief as the breeze, the chaos he prided himself in was absent; for a moment there was peace.

“If you weren’t The Joker, I’d say go as is. Though, I have a plan!” 

“Oh, do you now?” He said, shaking his head and returning to work. It was clear he was rapidly reaching his patience threshold.

Damn it.

“They have food!” You trailed off unsurely, as if it was a question – pinning your last hope on appealing to his raccoon inclinations.

It didn’t work.

The third, well… 

You had just about given up and accepted the fact that it wasn’t his scene, that him meeting your parents would never be an option – a reality you had started to think of as a good thing the more you thought about it. 

And so, the third day had been your acceptance. Self-care. Instead of chasing after an ideal, your hands were clutching a book, almost too hard, as the part you had been anticipating since very early had reached its finale. With your legs curled underneath you and practically asleep, your eyes flicked furiously from word to word– 

That is until a looming figure shadowed the page completely, concealing all light from the lamp next to you. 

Annoyance creased your features as you looked up at the clownish culprit. Your eyes met and a staring contest ensued, the intensity of his eyes beckoning a response until he, uncharacteristically, broke first. 

“Will this make you, uh, happy?” 

All traces of irritation were washed away by bewilderment, “sorry?” 

“My being with you.” 

“You mean to the wedding?” You asked, wide-eyed. If you hadn’t been as shocked as you were, you would have snorted at his continuous inability to say the word ‘wedding’. 

He shifted on his feet, eyes darting away for a second before he licked his lips. “Yeah.” 

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m not that cruel.”

You paused to hum obnoxiously, your finger tapping your chin to challenge the notion.

“Never mind,” he waved his hand in the air and was about to walk off before you grabbed his hand and sprung off your seat. You felt him try to wiggle out of your grasp with a grunt, but it was too late. “Thank you!” You shouted. 

You missed the way his surprise melted into a genuine curl of his lips, twitching; the muscles unused. Instead, you were too busy stuffed in his vest, with your arms swathed around him. You both stayed there for a while basking in the warmth of each other, as his hands, which you guessed were hanging awkwardly in the air and unsure of what to do, encircled your waist.

Third time’s the charm. 

Shaking fingers twirled sapphire silk, gliding over your cinched waist before finally moving up to the delicate exposed flesh of your neck. You glanced over the spaghetti straps that curved comfortably over your shoulder, and the simple silver circle necklace that laid between them, its chilled presence clashing with the heat of your skin.  

Knock knock knock!

“Just a minute!” You said, jumping at the sudden rude intrusion. 

“Not even funeral parlors take this long,” you heard J say from the other side, the distinctive departure of footsteps following promptly. They seemed faster than usual.

You puffed air at his complaint after calming your racing heart. Then you scrambled to finish up the final touches of makeup, at last winding the nude colored ribbons of your heels around your calves. Your head felt light, and your shoes only worsened the sudden gelatinous state your legs took on. Never before had you dressed up in such a way, not for years and much less in front of someone you dearly cherished. The line between fashionable and laughable was blurred and never truly had been exercised. Waving away the fuel your anxious thoughts provided, you decided to try and move. Your heels wobbled trying to avoid the flowing material pooled by your ankles, and you’d just managed to slip one foot out through the thigh-high slit. No matter how much you sighed, the pressure remained, weighing like an anvil. And so, with nothing much to lose, you made your way to the door; the dampness of your fingers leaving its foggy signature upon the knob.

This was it.

You breathed in one last time before opening the door.

“Okay, I’m re–” 

You exhaled sharply, feeling the earlier intake of air leave you – taking with it the remaining wind in your lungs. You couldn’t control the twinkle of your eyes, nor the flip of your stomach as you gazed upon him.

His form was angled against the wall and his arms were crossed – that was, until he dragged his eyes over to you. His limbs then dropped to their sides and he quickly, almost stumbling over his shoes, righted his position. The bob of his Adam's apple was clear while both of you stood meters from each other with widened eyes. You knew he had the ability to pull off a suit, but the royal blue he donned was stunning. The stark colour complemented his blond locks, while his foulard tie with its blends of pinks, purples, and its navy base matched his socks. 

It seemed you were both in the same boat, consumed by swells of giddiness and the need to fidget. The fingers that were dressed in dark brown leather gloves drummed against his thigh, while one of his cedar suede shoes tapped furiously against the floor.

“What.” He finally stated, rather than questioning. 

You dropped the necklace your fingers had started circling. 

“Nothing! You just look… really nice,” you uttered earnestly, unable to contain the sweet smile that broke through awe. 

“Yeah, yeah. Uh… you too,” he said, the last part coming out less steady. 

He avoided eye contact when you trotted over to him, fiddling with his cufflinks, though his tending to them immediately vanished when you began to accentuate the swish of your hips. 

All fidgeting stopped.

You were sure he was expecting something else, rather than the delicate cupping of his cheek once you reached him, soft lips meeting with roughened skin as you kissed his scars. You took your time with each one, whispering affection, before claiming his mouth. He growled against you, and you could feel him tighten his hold. 

The tip of his tongue traced the stain of lipstick, a wordless demand for entry which left you weak. Almost parting your lips to allow the gentle slide of his tongue, he suddenly reared back with a smirk. 

“Peach,” he cooed. 

You were going to have to reapply later. 

With a small smile you extended your arm to the couch, and knowing time was beginning to pass, he complied. As he advanced, you peeked at the orange lining in his blazer. The hue was similar to his purple coat, though slightly lighter. You smiled to yourself, the small detail so characteristically him. 

“Alright. Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, bracing himself. 

Already a step ahead, you had brought out the makeup needed just prior to getting dressed. Sitting on one of the nearby surfaces, you picked up a small translucent bag with little red hearts on it – a fact he’d snickered to himself at when he first saw it – and walked over to him. 

“As you wish, grumpy,” you simpered, “now hold still!” 

True to his new title, you heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath. The tap-tap-tap of his foot against the floor was most of the noise for a good while, and although distracting, the fidgeting of his hands was less noisy. You knew more than anyone he needed to squirm around, some movement at the very least, and so you endured. You deduced that he’d not been this close to someone in so very long, let alone allow them to do his makeup. That task, intimate and personal within itself, was not something others could be trusted with. 

“Time to hide these little guys,” you murmured, focused as the beauty blender sat between your fingers and dabbed on concealer. “Not that they need hiding. I’ll miss them.”

“Really?” He chimed in, eyes shut while you did your work. 

“Yeah, they’re a part of you and I’d never want you to hide or be ashamed of who you are.” 

“Hmm,” he trailed off. 

Occasionally his mouth quirked, his tongue darting out to lick his scars; an involuntary movement. You were patient, and even if he wasn’t overt about his guilt of messing up your progress, you reassured him lightly with a kiss on the head, sometimes playing with the dirty blond waves that lacked any sign of green. 

The day before he’d washed out the colour in preparation for the big day, groaning until he caught sight of himself in the mirror; contemplative. Ethereal and almost delicate he seemed. How precious it was to witness such cracks in the fortress, where the basking rays of sun illuminated what once was – and still is, only shrouded by shrubbery and thorns, so overgrown and disordered that they had forgotten to take care of even themselves. Forgotten how.  

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned as you finished blending the concealer on both cheeks. Grabbing the foundation you had colour matched, you dabbed a bit on your hand before applying that too.

“Honestly, me neither,” you replied, feeling no need to sugarcoat the shock from your tone. You knew he appreciated the truth. “But I’m glad you are! You’re doing so well!” 

He squirmed a little at the compliment but settled seconds later. Soon after finishing the blending, you reared back and observed your labour. Although it wasn’t perfect, and if you looked hard enough you could still see the intricate crevices in his skin, it passed. 

“All done!” 

As soon as you spoke, J pushed off his palms. He was halfway off the chair when you stopped him.

“Wait! I have to walk you through something.” 

At this, his eyebrows quirked up. You knew you had his attention. 

“Conditions!” You announced.

“Ah. Now there are conditions.” 

“Yes! I don’t want you to throw a tantrum and blow up the whole reception.” 

“My my, aren’t you a little fire stopper.” 

“Promise me.”

He flicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. With one hand on his chest and the other raised just next to his head, he bowed a little. “I swear.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I swear there will be no funny business, and I’ll be on my best behaviour – oh and no crossing your toes either!”

“You know me so well,” he sighed, admitting defeat, “Fine. I swear there’ll be no funny business and I’ll be on…” he cleared his throat and brought a closed fist to his mouth, “my best behaviour.” Then he shone his impishly wide grin, one that only intensified the pit of doubt in your stomach. 

It would have to do, though.  

“Okay,” you whispered. 

He stood up now, towering over you. 

“Okay,” he mimicked, dropping his hands at the base of your hips. 

The last few days had been full of surprises, his agreement to attend trumping all. However, his overt display of affection was a close second. Never before had he been so forthcoming and so comfortable with physical contact. 

As his hands laid there, unmoving and making their home in your curves, you inched closer to him; a specific craving only his warmth could ease. Though, those very same hands around you tightened when you tried to step forward, holding you in place. Curiously, you looked up at him, brows furrowed. 

“What are you–” 

It seemed he couldn’t help himself. The evil laughter he’d been trying to restrain bubbled from his throat and bounced off the walls. The eagerness to ask what he was doing quickly died – hard – when you could no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It instead morphed into protests and occasional bouts of laughter as your arms dangled along his back, your pelvis against his shoulder. One gloved hand rested crudely just below the curve of your ass, occasionally squeezing your upper thigh and holding you in place, while his other arm hung unobstructed. 

“We–” he clicked his tongue, “–wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?” He finished, purring. 

The location was a couple hours outside of Gotham on the coastline in an area you’d practically never heard of. If it wasn’t for J’s gift for navigation, and his frustration when you kept leading him down wrong turns, you would have been hours late instead of just missing the ceremony. The last straw had been assuring him the early exit was your turn off despite his gut instinct, despite the countless times he asked ‘are you sure?’ and despite his sneaking glances – something he stopped doing when he almost crashed into the car next to you, too focused on craning his neck. All of this combined had resulted in the brutal demise of your map reading days. 

Stopping where he could after taking the wrong exit he held out a gloved hand, a wordless demand for the navigator. Before long, you were back on the freeway, thankfully heading the right way. The directory rested in his lap as he balanced the seemingly breezy tasks of reading and driving. 

Clearly safety was his middle name.

Once the two of you arrived at the venue, the first thing you both noticed was the heat. Warm and uncomfortable, the seabreeze made this bearable. The next notable feature was the rambunctious clamour of the crowd; music, laughter and shouting. 

After worming your way out of the van, comically wedged between two much smaller cars, you headed towards the reception, stopping short from the asphalt-sand border. J stared at it as if it had foiled his genius villainous plots, as if it was the cause of all his misfortunes, as if it was responsible for the brutal murder of his first pet. Then, he made a face – a mixture between a scowl and disgust. 

He sniffed, “it smells like...” he paused to grimace, “high society.” 

The ghastly look was then directed ahead to each moving – breathing – organism he could see. There was no doubt in your mind the crowd had already made it on his hit list.

“For once I miss the stink of Gotham.” 

“Well at least it’s at the beach!” You exclaimed, not recalling the last time you’d been. Trying to think that far back made your brain hurt, the tingle of overworked cogs and Brain Fog a lethal combination that coerced your forfeit in seconds. At the very least you were happy to be making new memories, hopefully some you’d be able to remember in the future; memories you prayed were not, later too, guarded by the merciless Brain Fog and his ravenous desire to generate headaches.  

“I hate the beach,” J delivered flatly, hatred distilled rolling off his person in waves.  

“Oh, you hate everything!” You pouted, brushing off his pessimism. 

“It’s hard not to.” 

“Well…” You stopped to think, wracking your brain to prove him wrong, “what about me?”

That had to get him. 

“You especially,” he grinned, eyes twinkling with a mischief that spoke nothing other than ‘you walked right into that one, sweetheart.’ 

You were unable to help the sigh that sailed past your hued lips, “well, come on sunshine. You can’t stare daggers at them all day.”

“I can try,” he spat sourly. 

You rolled your eyes and dragged him along but immediately dropped the act when you quickly realised it hauled unwanted eyes, like metal to magnets. Yet, J followed even though you were certain he saw the cursed asphalt-sand barrier as the very gates of hell themselves. In fact, he seemed a little bit too eager to start his anathematised exploration of the 9 circles as when you looked back, expecting to see his long limbs hanging in defeated protest, you were met with, well, nothing.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone seemingly stalking off into the unknown, hiding among the sea of people. It wasn’t like he was easy to lose either, his height and his aura of absolute discomfort is what set him apart from the rest. He protruded like a broken bone – so why couldn’t you find him?

“Damn it, J!” You harshly whispered to yourself, unknowingly stamping your foot until the insidious specks of sand tumbled their way into your shoe, under your feet and between your toes. Easily conquering your layer of protection, their coarse presence made you want to grind your teeth. 

Maybe this was a mistake.

Before you could go off and search for the lost irritating puppy, you heard shouts. At first they seemed like ordinary yells, distinctive deviations from the crowd which happened to catch your attention at the right moment. Though, the more time passed and you wandered around like a newborn giraffe looking for its mother, you realised this was not the case. Most telling was the way those vague cries morphed into the familiar syllables of your name. And then finally in view, the supposed sweet comfort of childhood embodied neared; their worn features staring into your own, different from all those years ago. 

You fought the urge to run. 

“Hey honey!” Your dad beamed.

Two pairs of smothering arms made their way toward you, enveloping. With your fingers clutching separate materials, each as scratchy and glacial as each other, your head started to spin and you felt yourself holding your breath. 

“Hey mum, hey dad, it’s nice to see you two again,” you said, feeling the slow ache from clenching your jaw starting to set in. You quickly swapped this expression for a small smile when they released you.

“How’ve you been?” Your dad inquired, the shimmer in his eyes a sight you couldn’t help but double take at. You noticed there was no glass in his hand. 

“Don’t bombard her dear,” your mum rolled her eyes, “where’s this date you were telling me about?” 

She lingered on the word with an emotion you couldn’t quite discern while her adjudicating eyes swept over your outfit. Her eyebrows then lifted, scrunching her nose with it. “Not bad.”

Her scanning forced you to shrink into yourself, the automatic motion of your palms relentless in their pursuit of wrinkles, a fact you did not pick up on until your mother cleared her throat at your unprompted staring contest.  

“My question dear, it’s rude to ignore your mother,” her thin brows creased and the folds just above them rested along her forehead in a similar fashion.  

You scrambled for an acceptable answer, the question just as ambiguous to yourself.

“He’s… um… getting us drinks! I was actually just about to go check up on–” 

“Well if a man can’t even fetch you a drink he’s hardly useful,” she scoffed, turning to her husband to whisper, “can’t imagine what this prince charming looks like.” 

Anger, lava-like and boiling, rose up in your throat. The pressure seemed unbearable as you tried to keep your mouth closed – tried not to defend the one you loved with your entire being. How dare she judge someone she had yet to even meet? She had yet to see the beauty that radiated in and out. 

It had only been minutes and you’d already been zapped of your energy for the day.

“I think I should go check on him now.” “Yes, of course. Come back to me when you have something to show,” your mother smiled. You watched her lips stretch, her wine lipstick as pigmented as the red coating your vision. 

Her hand clutched the necklace around her chest. Her fingers traced the glistening diamond which hung overtly, screaming it’s pricelessness to all passersby as she went to go have another sip of her champagne. At the corner of your eye you noticed movement, a pair of worn hands clutching suit pants. Hard. You turned automatically and when you met his eyes your dad shot you a strained smile. It almost looked like an apology. 

Your stomach turned. 

You tried your best to conceal the stomping as you promptly departed, promising yourself to at least wait until you were out of their view and blending in with the crowd. Once you merged with the patches, you quickly discovered that navigating your way out of it was going to be just as hard as trying to find J. Left and right amalgamated, looking the same no matter how many times you tried to compare differences and so did everyone’s outfits. You could have sworn you’d seen the same red dress three times, though you also could have sworn you went all different directions to the last; the truth was you were no more knowing than a sailor stranded at sea lacking a compass, the same indistinguishable shapelessness stretching out for miles and miles with no end in sight.  

Then, a miracle – a clearing of people which shrieked hope and a long portable table with flowing white lace harbouring all kinds of food. Amongst the good news, a blotch of royal blue caught your eye and a flash of blond. Focusing your view on the table and its few inhabitants, one of which was the blue wearing stranger, you quickly realised your missing date was fixed and firm in place at the snack area. No sooner than this revelation processed you dashed over, the anger returning once the relief had run its fleeting course. As you stormed your way over to him he failed to look up, too preoccupied with the food he was collecting. Lacking in subtlety, you grabbed his arm. 

“Jesus there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

J, who had been waiting to stuff his face with what you identified as another cupcake, mouth ringed with strawberry frosting, crumbs and sprinkles, dropped it in surprise and turned to you with widened eyes. They shrunk as soon as they showed an inkling of surprise and instead shifted to speckled guilt. 

“Cupcake,” he managed to mumble with a full mouth.

Your fiery frustration was immediately put out by how cute he was, and you felt a surge of guilt yourself. It wasn’t fair to be taking out your personal frustrations on him. 

After closing your eyes and taking a breath, you reset. 

“They think I’m lying about you.”

He swallowed.

“You wanna leave? I, uh, know I want to,” he said much louder than the whisper you wish he’d used.

Such a comment warranted an elbow jab into his waist as you smiled ear to ear and sickly sweet at the passing guest who had clearly heard J. The middle aged woman with short brunette hair, white pom-pom earrings and beady eyes shot you two a blazing look before rutting her nose into the air. The reek of pretension wafted off her. Now you could see what J was saying earlier. 

Pee-yew. 

Everyone here sucked. 

“I’m gonna kill her later,” he murmured, squinting after her. 

“J, you promised to be good!”

Even if she was a grandiloquent old bitch who deserved it.

His ominous response was to pour himself some punch, the clown-in-disguise bringing the plastic up to his lips. As the cup masked most of his face, the only thing visible was his deadly gaze which bounced from congregation to congregation.

“How much longer.” Again, it wasn’t phrased as a question, more a statement. 

“The bride and groom haven’t even danced yet.” 

He scrunched his nose, though dropped the subject. At least verbally.

“You’re so crabby. You do know that you’re drawing even more attention to yourself this way?” 

“Hmmph.”

It was silent for a few minutes before, without warning, he grabbed your hand. The hesitant and jagged strokes of his thumb followed and even though they belonged to a novice, the delicacy was still there.

The message was clear: 

I’m new to this. 

Your lips upturned, the gentle quirk hidden by transient hair flowing along the salty breeze. His touch was warm and paradoxically amiable; his presence a shelter cutting the chilly current that had picked up around noon. Stained lips, of which you had forgotten about until the sticky residue imprinted boldly on his glove, aimed to ease his buzzing mind. Expecting a grumble for the lipstick mark, what you got in return was the soft gaze of dark brown eyes – a sign of taming raging waters. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact the window into his soul for once could be identified as just that – a window; crystal, without the dirtied stains of camouflage and trepidation. 

Something had changed. 

Before you could get another word in, it was announced the bride and groom were going to have their first dance. The crowd gathered around the newly wedded couple as the music suddenly switched. The speakers were loud as they played a waltz, the couple’s limbs intertwined and swaying to its dramatic pace. They twirled and swayed with the grace of swans tiptoeing and beguiling the creeping ocean on the golden sands. Even though you knew virtually nothing about them, and were convinced that in fact this whole invite was your mother’s scheme to pry, the sight was a beautiful one to behold. The epitome of love – reciprocal trust and utter surrender; it had you wondering where you’d gone wrong previously, and if such a thing was as formulaic as it seemed to be, or if they were freefalling into the abyss as much as everyone else was; blindfolded, but nonetheless with each other. Welded in each other’s hearts.

How long had you projected your yearning at the couple and vicariously lived through their magical moment? You couldn’t say, though it was only the sudden grip on your shoulder that had managed to break your fixed admiration. It was firm, but nowhere near the realm of rough, and it even contained a fraction of gentleness, an action that wordlessly said ‘are you okay?’

At the sudden presence, you looked over your shoulder to find J, his guarded eyes holding a knowledge which only deepened the crawling feeling of embarrassment. Blood rushed to your cheeks. As you rounded your gaze back to the couple, you quickly saw the crowd was beginning to join them, all dancing at their own pace as the music continued its intimate lull. J’s hand slid down your arm while you watched and returned to hold your hand. Content and about to lean into him, your sudden love struck daze pounced away when he started to walk, dragging you along with him. 

“Hey– what are you doing?”

No response. 

“Let me go!” You said, your tone coming out a lot angrier than you’d expected. You guessed this alerted him because even though you were mere meters away from the rest of the crowd he stopped to explain. 

“I saw the way you were looking at them. You know, cupcake, you’re not hard to read,” he drawled.

You pursed your lips, looking away for a moment. 

“So what? What are you doing?” 

“What does it – ah – look like?” 

He’d seemingly taken your lack of response as a positive and continued forward. He grinned once he had you in position and placed his palm on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. He then maneuvered his other hand to grab yours and stretched it forward. From his first few steps you knew immediately it was the Viennese Waltz. The fast tempoed dance was one you weren't all too familiar with, but you’d learned its slower English counterpart.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you gasped, trying your best to conceal your astonishment. You didn’t want to seem rude, though he just didn’t seem like the person interested in such a thing. Nor have the time. You were certainly finding yourself more curious about the origin of such a talent, and all the other potential abilities that were sneakily tucked away. 

“Well aren’t I just full of surprises.”

He dipped you slightly in time with the halt of the orchestra. He held you there for a moment before the tune resumed its boisterous charm, climbing steadily to its crescendo. 

“Here’s to another,” he said, his smile widening. If you didn’t know him so well you would have believed the expression to be completely innocent and honeyed. Standing there intertwined with his limbs you knew that devilish gleam was anything but. 

And, seconds later, this suspicion proved right. 

Suddenly he lifted you, twirling you around in such a way that made you feel like you were the bride. You’d only seen such a thing in Disney movies and cheesy rom coms – to be cherished, to be loved and cared for in such a delicate way was a fantasy; a taste of nostalgia and a serenade to the hopeless romantic within.

“J, put me down! Put me down!” You felt yourself swallow when his hands tightly gripped your hips. For a moment the irritation you’d experienced all day from a full face of makeup and wandering had all been worth it. 

His laughs slipped out, too; a direct contrast from his often irked facade, a musically heart-warming phenomenon which no instrument could emulate. The whole time you kept your eyes on each other and never once did they deter, focused on drinking in the beauty of each other. The cheers from the crowd you’d gathered fell upon both your deaf ears, transfixed by each other’s magic in your own closed off bubbles. 

As you continued to dance, the act itself felt like flying. The crowd separated when you neared – that is, until everything stopped. Sharp and prompt. 

Neither of you had much regard for the abrupt bump when it happened, there were people everywhere and mistakes occurred. It was no big deal. At least that’s what you told yourself until such a collision was followed by a violent shriek and a splash. 

Loud gasps replaced the background noise of applause.  

In a few frightening seconds your brain made the connection – linking who you’d just seen in the same area minutes before, inches from the ocean. 

“Oops,” you squeaked, too scared to turn around. However, despite your better judgement you did just that. 

The groom stood in shock, evidently unable to come to terms with the sight he was seeing. One moment his new wife was safe within his arms, dancing as if it was only two of them in the universe, the next she was below him, swimming with seaweed. Then, his form began to tremble, a telltale sign that what was to come was nowhere near the realms of good. 

He turned around with searing red eyes, a wrinkled nose and bared teeth. The eyes of the bull met the petrified, and his stubby, squared and well-manicured finger pointed directly at you. 

“You fucking bitch!” He roared.

You jumped, feeling yourself cling to J. His arm wrapped around you reassuringly and although you trusted him with your life, being confronted by a raging groom was still nonetheless intimidating. The groom who apparently cared more about telling you off than helping his wife, who was still floundering in the crashing waves, began his march over to you. 

“Do you know who I am?” He continued, and you wondered if he was still aware there was a crowd around. J almost instantly stood in front of you and had to hunch further to scowl at your aggressor.

“What was that?” J grabbed the man in front of him and slipped the blade hidden in his sleeve between the groom’s lips, angling it against the crease of his mouth. 

“Hmm? Why not try your luck, princess. Say it again.” 

The groom froze, the flicker of fear evident even on your end, though he kept up his brutish facade. 

“You’re both going to be 6 feet under when my dad’s through with you.” 

“Aww… run along to daddy so he can fix all your problems,” you could hear the pout in your boyfriend’s voice, comfortable and in your eyes even elated, to spit out the toxins he��d been gathering from just being here all day.

“So you do know who I am–” “The second most spoiled kid of Gotham’s underbelly.” 

“And yet, you’re still holding the knife.” 

“Of course the first would be your brother though, hmm?” J continued, completely ignoring the man's statement.

The groom gritted his teeth. 

“I bet it stings to not be the favourite. To not even have him here on your big day.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” The groom spat, bullseyeing J’s shoe. You saw red pooling at the corner of the man’s mouth, the mere act of expectorating on your boyfriend’s shoe more urgent than self-preservation. 

Yeesh. 

“Now that’s not very hygienic,” J growled, wrinkling his nose. His grip on the knife tightened and in one quick motion, the groom was screaming. 

While you couldn’t see the infliction from where you were positioned, the blood dripping onto the sand was clear as crystal. The screams of those around you were piercing, their horror and disgust forcing you to cling tighter to your boyfriend.

“J, please! That’s enough, it’s okay!” You pulled on his blazer. Feeling the hundreds of widened eyes staring holes into your being was no longer a concern. What mattered most was him. Getting out of here. 

With a quick glance to his right, J met you, then looked back at the groom. 

He smacked his lips. 

“Seems you are lucky,” he purred, the shimmer in his eye reflecting nothing of the warmth he concealed so carefully – nothing of the warmth of when your eyes met. Instead, it was serrated and reflected jeopardy. He possessed the force of a hurricane. A gravity; the way in which he commanded the direction of things and uprooted the fortitude of the righteous, the sure, a mothernatured finesse. 

He looked back at you again before shifting his hold on the man, fisting his wrinkled and bloodied shirt, then barked, “why don’t you go join your blushing bride?” 

With the element of surprise, J raised his knee and shot it between the man’s legs, the man falling down almost as fast as the foreign presence made an impact. You could have sworn someone at the corner of your eye jolted, most likely fearing the worst while others let out shrieks. Fear of the unknown, the seduction of one’s imagination and its ability to fill in blanks was the most manipulatable aspect of consciousness. Rather than bleeding out and rocking lifeless against the cradling waves like so many had thought, the groom sat there, soaking in the shame of defeat and crimson. He hollered while his new wife crawled to his side. 

“Tell your precious father I said ‘hi.’”

All eyes now turned to you both as you speedily departed, J dragging you along once more. The colony of sand in your shoe that had begun its formation hours ago was well in its breeding season now, the leathery insole most likely buried along with the newly wed’s marriage. Before you fully exited the cooperative crowd, forever to forget the merging faces of horror, two familiar ones caught your eye. 

Hah!

“Some date, huh?” You smiled, staring at your mother straight on. The way her face twisted up in a myriad of emotions – surprise, disgust, embarrassment – was something you’d never forget. You were sure you destroyed her little snobbish social circle by the mere association. Pride swelled in your chest, a childish victory that didn’t seem so childish when you later reflected on your relationship with her. 

When the two of you escaped back to the van successfully, there was a moment of contemplation. 

“I – heh – think that went well!” J laughed to himself, rounding his body to face you, “you think your parents like me?” 

“I think I should be asking the same to myself,” you said.  

“Cheer up buttercup, at least your parents know you’re not dying alone anymore.”

“To be honest, after that shitshow they’d probably prefer it,” a sigh left your lips and you began to bite them, unconscious of the small action until the taste of metal blew up your taste buds.

“Eh. Who needs parents, anyway?” 

You began to fiddle with your hands, suddenly finding them incredibly interesting. From the lack of interruptions you concluded he knew you were miles away, trapped in the wilderness of your own thoughts.  

“So I’m guessing you only came because you found out whose wedding it was.”

It took a lot to break the silence, and the air suddenly shifted to a heaviness. You weren’t sure you were the only one tensing. 

J clicked his tongue but didn’t answer. 

“It’s okay… I think I’ve had my fill of weddings for a while, anyway. And parents. And honestly, maybe people,” you answered for him, despite the swirl of hurt brewing in your gut. 

He breathed out his amusement. The lack of transience had you swallowing, frantic to keep the growing weight on your chest from expanding – from consuming your entire being with emptiness. You didn’t know how long you had until the stampede made its mark, the thunderous thuds of terror already echoing in the distance. 

Those were only thoughts you could entertain alone, sunken in the decaying paradise of your bed. 

Silence prevailed again.

Dazed and lost of direction, you remained fixated on the lines of your palms. 

“The husband had a temper. You know, I thought they were so lovely at first.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Their little golden castles sparkle in the sun and it’s only until the rain pours that you can see them for what they really are. Wet cardboard. Looks can be deceiving.” 

“They certainly can be,” you looked up at him, smiling softly. 

Even with the friction, you slowly reached up to cup his face. This time on his end, there was no fear or hesitation. Instead, just an unspoken mutual trust between two wandering souls. You looked down at his lips while your thumbs stroked the hidden lines of his scars. The gentle caresses wore down the makeup until finally they were visible again. 

The marks of a survivor – beautiful and bold.

“Wait,” he said, the word simple and yet so labyrinthine. He reared back and looked at his hands while your own moved to rest on your knees. Curled into fists, his slowly unclamped like a blooming flower. What they revealed had your heart thumping, dancing its rhythm in your throat. You felt your eyes widen and the sadness immediately leave you, as if all its colour had been drained from you. You felt like a 1930’s cartoon, so shaken to the core that all you could see was greyscale. 

“It wasn’t the only reason,” he whispered, the commanding presence absent.  

He cleared his throat and finally looked up at you, “in fact, these were my only reason.” 

“You son of a bitch,” you bit your tongue in awe at the binding pieces of metal in his hands. They twinkled in the holiday rays, beckoning, unuttering whispers of fabrication. Was the weight of those dual bands as heavy as his heart? As heavy as the solemn expression as he processed your jabbing words?

“I-I know it’s not much but–” he stuttered, and was promptly interjected. 

“Oh! No, no, no! I didn’t mean–” 

You both smiled. Yours wide and brazen, his small and seraphic. 

“My J. Always starting fights, always getting what he wants,” you took the ring from his finger and darted to your left hand, slipping it on its rightful throne, “how can I resist?”  

You kissed him mellowed and full of saccharine and he sighed, his reciprocation just as tender despite the usual dash of coarseness. 

“Mine,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. He fluttered his eyes shut and his breathing began to steady. 

“Mine,” you whispered. 

In all that was and all that ever could be, never would you have believed such a moment possible. Magical and idiosyncratic, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Nothing big and extravagant in front of many eyes. Just the two of you, inside what you now considered the best moment of your life. What many described as a lock and chain, a prison for the rest of one’s life, you would describe as the only thing you had ever wanted. As much as before, everything felt complete. 

Supernal.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, breathing in unison, basking in each other. All you knew was that it was all too soon when you hit the road again, starting the long journey back to Gotham. After a lot of the same scenery – trees, cars, rocks, more cars and occasional bodies of water – your eyes had become leaden. Resting became impossible to oppose and before long your eyes gave into its stinging demand. 

Somewhere within the haze of half-consciousness, a mysterious material was draped over you. It was silken on the inside, your arms softly grazing it occasionally, and linen on the outside, your chin brushing over it when passing uneven roads. Subtle ripples of cologne drifted from the fabric as you finally fell prey to sleep’s siren song. 

“Sleep well, sweetpea,” lulled a sweet voice. 

#Joker #The Dark Knight #TDK #Joker x reader #fanfiction #My Writing #heath ledger joker x reader #Heath Ledger Joker #Dk!Joker #The joker x reader #DC #dceu x reader #dceu fandom #dceumovies #dceu #dceu joker #Christopher Nolan Batman #Christopher Nolan Joker #tdk series #tdk joker #tdk fanfiction #x reader #Self Insert #dark knight joker #joker x you #joker x y/n #heath ledger #heath joker #heath joker x reader #hysteriium

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 6

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: future Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: with the carriage crashed they must continue on horseback

Note: this one is shorter, I wanted to have some nice bonding with Jesper done before we got back to the regularly scheduled story

Taglist: @mcntsee​

              Kaz had felt the weight of the carriage change a moment before they went into the ditch.  It gave him time to get ready so that when they fell, he was able to land on his side instead of his head.  His hip throbbed but he was able to stand quickly and noticed that Y/N hadn’t been so lucky.  Curse his stupid mouth for saying something hurtful to her before this.  He knew brushing off her confessions was callous, but he had been annoyed with her for pulling her legs away from him.  He knew he was petty but that was a new low and now he would have to win back her affection.  Why did he want her affection anyway? O right because his heart was working for once.  Damn.

              He stumbled over to where she lay unconscious and looked around the carriage, finding a way out in the floor.  Must have been a carriage for smuggling, complete with emergency exit if you were caught, smart.  He kicked open the trapdoor and then looked back at Y/N.  He knew Jesper would come in and get her but Kaz wanted to be the one who got her.  He tossed his cane out the door and took a deep breath, focusing on getting Y/N to safety, and picked her up into his arms.  He carried her outside, laying her down in the grass nearby.  Once she was safe the thoughts of dead bodies and Jordie’s face roared into his mind and walked to the edge of the woods and vomited, holding himself against a tree.  When he was finished he turned back to see that Jesper was checking on her, his arm bleeding.

              “Are you hurt?” Kaz asked, walking back over to them. Jesper shrugged before standing next to him.

              “I’m fine, just a cut” he responded, tearing off his shirt sleeve and wrapping it around the cut, tying it with difficulty. “Can’t offer a hand?” he said to Kaz, smirking.  Kaz glared. “You saved her, carried her out here, you like her, you big softie.”  The look Kaz sent him wiped the smile off his face.  It was a long time before Jesper mustered the courage to speak again.  “Its alright you know, to have feelings about someone, you can still rip out hearts and then go home to someone.”

              “That’s enough Jesper, I don’t need a lecture from you about my feelings,” he snarled, hearing Y/N start to stir.  She blinked open her eyes and sat up quick, gripping her head. She looked around, then at the two men in front of her.

              “How did I get out of the carriage?” she asked. Before Kaz could stop him Jesper spoke.

              “Kaz carried you out,” he said, smiling big. Kaz’s blood was boiling at the betrayal. Y/N looked at Kaz silently.        

              “Thank you Kaz,” she said softly, standing with Jesper’s help.  Kaz nodded quietly, looking away.  He was going to have to admit sooner or later that Jesper was right, he did have feelings for her, but he would admit that later.  He still didn’t know what he could do in a relationship with someone anyway, who would want a broken bastard?  

              By this time Jesper had brought the horses over and even had found a spare saddle in the carriage storage bin.   Y/N dressed the horse, getting on ready to ride.  

              “Kaz take this one, I’ll ride with Jesper on the other,” she said, holding the reins.  Kaz wanted to argue but knew he couldn’t possibly ride a horse with someone else, not even Y/N, for the amount of time they needed.  The Permafrost was still over 2 days away, he would never survive. He climbed on the horse with difficulty, ignoring the help the others offered.  Once astride he slid his cane into his belt and heard a giggle.  He narrowed his eyes at Y/N and once again found that she wasn’t the least bit afraid of him.  He both admired and hated that about her.

              “You look like a general in those old school books, saber at the ready,” she said.  Kaz rolled his eyes and looked away before anyone could see the red that flared on his cheeks.  “But you’re much better looking than those guys.”  Kaz had expected a compliment, she seemed to like teasing him and then stroking his ego to win back his favor.  He hated that it worked.  He watched, a little annoyed, when she joined Jesper on the horse and they started riding north again.  

                Y/N could see that Kaz was struggling, not with his horse, but his emotions.  She had to admit, his feelings were probably harder to tame than a wild horse and she still didn’t know if it was worth it.  She realized that his jab about her secrets the night before had been out of anger. She wasn’t sure what he was angry about, but him carrying her out of the carriage proved that he cared about her in some way.  She would take that and work with it.  

              “You like him don’t you?” Jesper asked, him also noticing how Kaz couldn’t look at them for more than a moment before he looked away again, the jealousy clear on his face.  

              “Yes, I more than like him,” she answered. Jesper was easy to talk to, Kaz should send him out to gain secrets, with his laid back attitude and fun demeanor anyone would get loose lips with him.  He nodded and looked ahead again but she noticed the frown on his face.  “What has you upset?”

              “I…I miss Wylan,” he said softly.  It was almost like he was just admitting it to himself and she felt her heart break a little at the sad look on his face.  “Stupid merchling wormed his way into my heart and won’t let go.”  

              “I guess we both have men who are unreachable at the moment.  I’m sure we will find Wylan at the resistance camp, if he had the strength to deal with both you and Kaz I can only imagine how strong his will is.  I’m still debating on shooting you both,” she teased. Jesper let out a chuckle.

              “If you find you want to shoot Brekker you can use my guns,” he answered making her laugh this time.  

              “You two seem chummy,” Kaz called, riding to walk his horse closer to them.  He looked so put out by their interactions that Y/N almost laughed at him.

              “Don’t worry Kaz, I’m not trying to steal your new girl,” Jesper shot back.  If looks could rip someone apart the look Kaz gave him would have done that and more.  “You see Kaz here almost ended up with Inej…” A loud crack rang out and Jesper let out a strangle cry of pain.  Kaz had snapped his cane out, smacking it hard against Jesper’s knee.  

              “Don’t start talking like you know anything Jesper,” Kaz said, voice menacing.   Y/N looked at him.  This must be Dirtyhands, the supposed bad guy buried in Kaz, the one who liked to rip out eyes and maim men for saying the wrong thing.  She was impressed by his vicisousness but she didn’t want this aspect of Kaz to be out and about right now.

              “Kaz calm down, this is all in good fun,” she said. “I know you don’t know how to really have fun but I promise this conversation will never be shared with anyone, right Jesper?”

              “Right,” Jesper wheezed out, still trying to move his leg.  “Did you break my kneecap?”

              “Just disabled your lower leg for a minute, you’ll be fine.  God knows I don’t want to carry you if you break your leg,” Kaz responded.  He looked at Y/N and she smiled at him, wanting him to calm down.  She saw him take a deep breath and relax some.

              “So are you going to tell me about Inej?  I have heard the stories about her leading the refugees north, she sounds amazing,” Y/N said.  And she sounds infinitely better than me for Kaz she thought to herself.  Inej was supposed to be strong, a leader, someone that could gain secrets by knife or by charm, and apparently Kaz had once wanted her.   Y/N didn’t often let insecurity eat at her, she was Grisha who could do anything, why should she think less of herself?  But the idea that Kaz would desire her over Inef Ghafa seemed laughable.  

              “No one is going to talk about Inej anymore. What I felt for her wasn’t real,” he said, a pleading look in his eyes.  This whole conversation was making him squirm it seemed, too much talk of feelings and emotions that he didn’t want to visit.   Y/N nodded, feeling a little better that he seemed to be telling the truth.  Inej was a friend, a second in command, but it appeared that she was just that and nothing more.  Then again, Y/N was just a Grisha, someone to get them back to their crew and nothing more. Suddenly she didn’t feel any better.

              They rode on for another hour, the sun getting hot above them as they passed midday in silence.   Y/N was hoping they would get at least halfway to the Permafrost today but she felt her heart stop and her blood go cold as a voice called from behind them.

              “Little puppy, seems you found some new friends,” the Darkling said.  Jesper whipped the horse around and all three stared as the man approached alone, looking ready to kill.

#six of crows #kaz #kaz brekker #jesper fahey #kaz x reader #kaz brekker x reader #unexpected allies series #kazbrekker

[buriedinbaltimore]

Imagine the foxes playing two truths and a lie...

The upperclassmen start playing it as a drinking game one night and Neil is intrigued. Andrew is also intrigued but doesn’t show it and refuses to play.

They are all already pretty tipsy, with Kevin, Matt, Nicky, and Aaron pretty much drunk.

Allison goes first, she has an amazing poker face and calmly says all three statements with no facial twitches or vocal cues. “my first car was a Toyota Camry (truth), my prom dress cost over $10k (lie), and I once made out with Miley Cyrus (truth)”

Renee, Neil, and Aaron guess right, Matt, Dan, Kevin, and Nicky have to drink.

Then it’s Matt’s turn and he is terrible, he starts snickering before he opens his mouth. “I’ve swam with sharks (truth)” he says, but he cannot control his face and it keeps contorting as he tries to maintain a neutral expression. He takes a deep breath to try and control his giggles, “my favorite flower is sunflowers (truth)” then he can’t hold it in anymore and starts hysterically laughing and chokes out, “My favorite city in the world is Newark, NJ (lie)”

Everyone gets it right and Matt has to drink.

Dan is next, she goes for the “one of these is so out there and crazy it can’t be a lie...or is it?” method.

((It is.))

“I’ve never shot a gun (truth), as a kid my favorite food was celery with ranch dressing (truth), and when I was 18 I won the lottery but the ticket was ruined and I couldn’t claim the money (lie)”

Aaron jumps in with “Obviously you never won the lottery, how would you even know if the ticket was destroyed”

Dan has her story ready. “When I first turned 18, I played the same numbers every week. It went on for a few months when my numbers were picked, but by that point playing was more of a habit than anything else and I wasn’t too careful with my tickets. I searched for it everywhere and found that I left it in my jeans pocket when I did my laundry.”

Allison asks what the numbers were, and Dan answers with no hesitation, which makes Allison tilt her head and stare into Dan’s eyes. Dan looks back without guile, totally relaxed.

Nicky is looking at her with his eyes wide and mouth slightly open and asks how much money she would have won

When Dan answers $53 million dollars Nicky gasps and Matt groans.

Neil, Renee, and Allison get it right, but everyone else falls for it.

When its Nicky turn he forgets to say a lie.

He is sitting there trying to come up with something for what feels like forever while every goads him for taking so long.

Finally, after waiting 5 minutes, Kevin says “I’m going because Nicky obviously can’t come up with anything” and Nicky jumps across Kevins lap and goes “No no no no no, I’ve got it!”

Without moving off Kevin he says “I’m allergic to shellfish, I died my hair green once, and I’ve read all the twilight books three times“ He moves back to his spot looking pleased with himself.

Everyone starts discussing theories until Andrew says in his bored, flat voice, “Nicky, those are all true”

Nicky starts to protest, thinks for a second, then just says “Fuck!” and takes a shot.

Kevin rolls his eyes so hard that his entire head rotates then says, while slightly slurring, “Okay, my turn! I’ve played a game of pick up basketball once (lie), I know all the lyrics to We Didn’t Start the Fire (truth), and I’ve traveled to over a dozen countries (truth).”

Matt starts hysterically laughing again, “You know all the lyrics to We Didn’t Start the Fire! oh my god Kevin you are such a nerd!” everyone else starts laughing at Kevin too.

“Maybe I do, maybe it’s the lie!”

“Everyone knows you’ve never played a sport besides Exy in your life Kevin” Dan says, “Will you sing it for us? Please, please, please!”

Allison, Nicky, and Matt join Dan in asking Kevin to sing. Renee even says, “It would be lovely to hear you sing it Kevin” to which Kevin blushes a little and answers, “Maybe later” and then takes his shot.

Aaron is drunk enough at this point to spill some truths he otherwise never would, and will wish for the rest of his life that he never had.

“When I was little, I wanted to be a figure skater when I grew up.(truth)”

Everyone goes completely silent and stares at him unsure whether to laugh or not but he doesn’t realize and continues

“The first time I got high I thought the squirrels in the tree wanted to adopt me as their squirrel king (truth), and I hate Taylor Swift (lie)”

No one says anything at first, and just when Aaron starts to realize something is up, Nicky says “Nah man, you LOVE T. Swift, you can’t deny it!”

They collectively make a silent agreement to ignore this new information about Aaron until he sobers up a bit and can either defend himself, or will be more fun to tease.

In the end, everyone but Renee guesses right, but she guessed wrong on purpose because she didn’t think that Aaron should be having any more to drink.

When it’s Renee’s turn, she smiles sweetly and says, ”I can juggle up to 7 balls (truth), I have never drank diet soda (lie), and I once had a pet turtle named Vincent (truth).”

No one is confident about which is the lie and it is the longest the foxes debate after anyones turn. It doesn’t help that Renee refuses to answer questions, and whenever someone tries to ask her anything she just smiles and shrugs.

It comes out to Neil and Aaron getting it right, while everyone else has to drink.

“How the fuck has it never come up that you’re a master juggler?” Allison asks angrily

“It wouldn’t be appropriate to do it at practice, and we’re not really around balls much otherwise.”

Everyone asks for a demonstration, “I will juggle later if Kevin will sing.”

Everyone looks at Kevin who sighs but says “Okay, fine!”

They all cheer then wait eagerly for Neil to go.

Neil sits quietly for a little while, not as long as Nicky, but long enough that Aaron says, “Come on this should be easy for you! You lied to us all for a year, what’s the problem, the truth?”

Neil shoots him a dirty look but doesn’t respond for a few more seconds then says,

“My mom and I once helped deliver a baby at a truck stop in Alberta, I’ve been bitten by a camel, and I can speak 7 languages”

Everyone just stares at him.

“Two of those things are true?” Matt finally asks

“Yeah.” Neil says, shrugging. Everyone is silent again.

Nicky turns to Andrew for help, but he refuses to say anything. His eyes are bright with interest though and he looks at Neil for a long time. Internally, he thinks the one about helping birth a baby has something off about it.

After much debate, Allison, Kevin, and Matt guess the baby, Renee, Dan, and Aaron guess the camel, and Nicky says the languages, “No one can know SEVEN languages!! I won’t believe it!”

They all turn to Neil expectantly and he says, “It was the first one, we were just outside Vancouver, in British Columbia, not Alberta.”

“But you, Neil Josten, have helped deliver a baby?” Allison asks incredulously.

“Technically I wasn’t Neil Josten yet…”

Everyone groans. Everyone takes a shot.

Cut to 15 minutes later, Renee is juggling an exy ball, some apples, and Matt’s phone while Kevin sings. Nicky tries to sing along with Kevin but definitely doesn’t know the right words, Aaron is watching Renee wide eyed, Dan and Matt are playing air guitar behind Kevin, and Allison is looking for more things for Renee to juggle. Neil and Andrew sit quietly on a desk holding cigarettes, observing their idiot friends.  

Stories Behind the Truths and Lies

Allison

My first car was a Toyota Camry (truth) - Allison’s parents wanted her to learn how to drive in a safe car that wouldn’t draw a lot of attention, so they got her a Camry. She only drove it for 3 weeks before demanding an upgrade.

My prom dress cost over $10k (lie) - This was almost true. She had ordered a custom Zac Posen dress but before it was finalized she made her decision to go to PSU and play Exy, and her mother canceled the order. She ended up wearing something she found in a vintage store that she altered herself. She ended up enjoying it a lot, which led to her decision to study fashion. (In my hc she played professional Exy for 3? seasons but was injured and then started her fashion line.)

I once made out with Miley Cyrus (truth) - While out clubbing one night she met Miley through mutual friends, they were attracted to each other, they made out. Miley asked for her number but Allison wasn’t looking for anything more than a hook up.

Matt

I’ve swam with sharks (truth) - He did this with his mom on a vacation and they both loved it. They also have a tradition where they watch at least one night of shark week together, or at least call each other to talk while they are both watching.

My favorite flower is sunflowers (truth) - No story lol I just think he would like sunflowers.

My favorite city in the world is Newark, NJ (lie) - I love thinking about New Yorker Matt. Raised on the Upper East Side, dad a top plastic surgeon, mom a public figure? Child grew up surrounded by serious privilege. HC that in fifth grade he made friends with a boy who was on scholarship at his school. Let’s call him… Metin. He lived in Queens? He took the subway? Matt goes to his house one day and it is 1/8th the size of his apartment and there are 9 people living there; Metin’s parents, two grandparents, his uncle, his two sisters, and his cousin. They all speak Turkish in the house and it’s loud and crowded but so full of life and love and Matt loves it. He and Metin grew apart when Matt started using, but before that they were best friends for years and explored the city together, Matt learning about and experiencing so much culture that for the first 9 years of his life he didn’t know existed. When Nicky wanted to go to Times Square for New Years Matt knew he had to be a good host and take them but inside he was DYING. I’m getting off track. No New Yorker could ever like Newark. I’m not convinced anybody could like Newark. It is indeed, very laughable.

Dan

I’ve never shot a gun (truth) - Dan hates guns and refuses to shoot one.

As a kid my favorite food was celery with ranch dressing (truth) - Idk I just thought this was cute. And also thinking about young Dan who didn’t have a lot of access to healthy foods getting celery sticks and ranch with her free school lunch and getting SO excited. Trading her cookie to a classmate for their celery.

When I was 18 I won the lottery but the ticket was ruined and I couldn’t claim the money (lie) - I like to think this is part true. After Dan turned 18 but before she was recruited for the Foxes, she played lotto a lot, always with the same numbers that she got from a fortune cookie that said, “Failure is not defeat until you stop trying.” She stopped playing once she signed with Wymack.

Nicky (all truths)

I’m allergic to shellfish - Mostly I love that Andrew knew all these things about Nicky, especially his allergy because he’s always looking out to make sure Nicky doesn’t eat something he can’t.

I died my hair green once - At first, when he took custody of the twins and started showing up for them at school at stuff, he hated the looks he got. He was a 19 year old kid who was supposed to be their guardian? Not to mention the way people eyed his skin and hair when he said he was family. One day he decided to dye his hair blond and he asked Andrew and Aaron to help, to try to bond. Aaron wanted nothing to do with it, but surprisingly, Andrew seem enthusiastic about the idea. He bought the dye and did everything for Nicky in the kitchen. When he was finally done roughly washing the dye out of Nicky’s hair, Nicky went to the bathroom to see how he looked and saw that Andrew had died his hair green. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh at the prank or cry because he foolishly thought he might be getting through to Andrew. When he went back to the kitchen, he tried to laugh it off and said maybe he should go to a salon to get the color right. Andrew told him he was stupid to try and change how he looked just because people were dumb enough to think that families needed to look alike. Besides, they weren’t a family anyway.  “Family” is a toxic excuse for things people put up with, a reason we accept the tragedies and inconveniences forced upon us. (Nora’s words) Nicky was upset, and dyed his hair back to his natural color once the roots started growing in, but he reaffirmed his commitment in that moment that he would show the twins what Erik had shown him, what a family could really be.

I’ve read all the twilight books three times - Nicky was a huge fan of twilight, even going to the midnight release party for the last book. He was disappointed in the movie adaptations but loved the casting and watched for the eye candy. He is loving the twilight renaissance especially the twilight is gay discourse.

Kevin

I’ve played a game of pick up basketball once (lie) - Kevin has never played a game of basketball, or soccer, or tennis, or baseball, or any other sport for that matter and can not understand why anyone would want to.

I know all the lyrics to We Didn’t Start the Fire (truth) - Kayleigh Day was a big music fan, she loved everything from classical to country, but one of her favorite artists was Billy Joel. After she died and Kevin moved into Evermore, he almost forgot about her music because the music at the Nest was all chosen for pragmatic reasons, like its BPM and ability to pump the players up. One day, when Kevin was around 15 years old, a rebellious Raven played his own music while training in the weight room. He and his partner were the only ones in there until Riko and Kevin showed up, and they turned it off as soon as they realized they had come in, but Kevin heard some of “Only the Good Die Young” and for the first time in a long time had a vivid memory of his mother. He asked the boys what had been playing, and Riko scoffed at the name Billy Joel. That night while Riko was sleeping, Kevin downloaded Billy Joel’s Greatest Hits and listened until he feel asleep, and he continued listening to it for weeks until he started remembering more of his mothers songs from his childhood. We Didn’t Start the Fire was one of his favorites because history.

I’ve traveled to over a dozen countries (truth) - Between travel through Europe with his mom while she spread Exy and professional appearances he made with Riko, Kevin is the most well traveled besides Neil.

Aaron

When I was little, I wanted to be a figure skater when I grew up. (truth) - When Aaron was around four or five, he watched the winter olympics on TV and fell in love with figure skating. Tilda never bothered to get him skating lessons, but one day, when Aaron was seven, there was an attempt to revive the Ice Capades. Aaron never thought he would get to go, but Tilda surprised him with tickets. It is one of the few really good memories he has of his mom.

The first time I got high I thought the squirrels in the tree wanted to adopt me as their squirrel king (truth) - I just imagine Aaron trying his mom’s drugs for the first time alone in the back yard, laying flat on his back looking up at a family of squirrels, saying, “I’m king of the squirrels!!!”

I hate Taylor Swift (lie) - Katelyn is a HUGE Taylor Swift fan. When they first started hanging out, Aaron didn’t really like her music but didn’t want to say anything. Eventually he started associating her with Katelyn though, and he loves watching Katelyn sign and dance so much that he now genuinely enjoys her music.

Renee

I can juggle up to 7 balls (truth) - Renee always had a natural juggling talent. She never really tried to learn, it was just always something she could do.

I have never drank diet soda (lie) - She does prefer non-diet soda, but she has tried diet before.

I once had a pet turtle named Vincent (truth) - Vincent was a gift from one of her mother’s boyfriends, the only one Renee ever remotely like. He was horrible to her mother, but had a soft spot for Renee and treated her kindly. They broke up after a couple of months, and he gave her Vincent as a parting gift. She had him until she got arrested, she couldn’t go back home to get him and when her mother went to prison he died.

Neil

My mom and I once helped deliver a baby at a truck stop in Alberta (lie) - This happened while Neil and his mom were on the way to Seattle. It was the middle of the night and they stopped to get gas a few hours out from Vancouver when they heard a woman screaming. There was nothing around for miles and only one other car in the lot that had been there when they pulled in. His mother immediately dropped the gas pump and Neil was already back in the car when the screaming stopped and his mother hesitated. Neil had never seen his mom hesitate with a potential threat around before, and he listened closely to try and understand why she stopped. All he heard was a woman panting harshly, but it sounded almost as though there was a rhythm to it. Mary signaled for him to get out of the car, and ordered him to grab some blankets, the first aid kit, and water bottles and follow her. They walked behind the locked public bathrooms, and found the woman squatting, with tears running down her face. Mary wasn’t very gentle or comforting, but she told the woman in a calm and confident voice that they were going to help. Neil didn’t do much, but he let the woman hold his hand and squeeze until he thought she would break it. He gave her sips of water between her contractions and did anything else his mother said. Once the baby was out, wrapped in a blanket, and in its mothers arms, Mary grabbed Neil and they left without another word to the woman. She stared after them, confused and grateful. Neil and his mother never spoke of it again.

I’ve been bitten by a camel (truth) - Neil and Mary spent a few days in Dubai to get some papers from a specialist there before traveling back to North America. The man did his business out of a racetrack where they held camel races. To get to his office, they had to travel through the back part of the track that the jockeys used to get the camels into position. Neil got too close to one of the camels and it bit his arm, luckily (or not), the jockey was in the middle of beating it and before it closed its mouth too tightly, landed a blow that caused the camel to immediately open its mouth again. Once he was freed, Neil was out of reach in a millisecond.

I can speak 7 languages (truth) - English, German, French, Russian, Hebrew, Czech, Greek. (To clarify he can speak 7 languages but he wouldn’t necessarily call himself fluent in all 7) We all know English, German, French, and Nora had a hc that Andrew and Neil learn Russian so they can talk to each other even with the cousins around which I love. Hebrew - In my hc Neil is jewish, as are Mary and Nathan. After running away, Mary didn’t know where to go once she had left her brother. She didn’t speak any other languages besides English, but she could understand Yiddish from hearing her grandparents and sometimes her parents speaking it growing up, and she could understand Polish from her time married to Nathan. She didn’t want to go to Poland in case any of Nathan’s contacts recognized her, so she decided to go to Israel. She knew there were communities there that spoke Yiddish and she was familiar if not comfortable with Hebrew from going to temple when she was younger. But most importantly she knew Nathan didn’t have any regular contacts there. While they were there, along with learning Hebrew, Mary pretended to be interested in converting to Greek Orthodox in order to get secret Greek lessons for her and Neil. After a while but sooner than she had hoped, Mary got a warning that Nathan had figured out where they were. She didn’t think it would be wise to go directly to Greece so she decided to move them to Prague next, since Czech and Polish are fairly similar and she really had no other ideas. While in Prague she continued her and Neil’s Greek lessons, and they went on to Greece eventually. Mary didn’t want them to lose any of the languages they learned, so she came up with a system that on certain days of the week they would speak to each other in certain languages. After Mary died, Neil pretty much gave up on Czech and Hebrew because he hadn’t been surrounded by them in so long and he hadn’t used either except with Mary since they moved from Prague or Israel. They had lived in Greece for longer than they had in Prague or Israel though, moving to a few different cities, so he felt stronger with Greek.

Fin. 

This is my first time writing anything fanfiction, my first time doing any creative writing at all really, and I would love any and all feedback!! Thanks for reading this long ass post, I hope it wasn’t terrible!!

#aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #aftg fic #andrew minyard #neil josten #allison reynolds #renee walker #matt boyd #kevin day #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #dan wilds #fanfiction #two truths and a lie #text #my first ever fic #jes.post #words.jes

[rose7420]

Captured

A request from @laurenandloki! Such a great prompt! And to everyone please don't hesitate to send me requests, I am more than happy to write them!

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omg I feel bad that I keep asking you to write scenarios! Ahh are you sure it’s ok that I submit them?😅🥺❤️ What if Loki has been talking to this teen borrower now for a little while every time he spots them borrowing stuff in his room? Loki has grown quite attached to her as well because they always talk whenever she comes out to get supplies.

But one night, Loki waits for her to come to his room for their talk, but she never comes. Loki knows that something is wrong because she’s never late. That’s when he could hear the Avengers out in the kitchen asking questions and faint crying/whimpering since his room is really close to where the kitchen is. He teleports to where the Avengers are at and his heart sinks. His little friend had gotten herself caught and was sitting in a jar now being stared at like an animal. Loki freaks out on everyone, and once he’s holding his friend close to him, he yells at them once more for scaring a child and retreats back to his room with her pressed to his chest all while she’s clinging to his shirt🥺

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Y/N jumped out of her bed with glee. She had just finished the book that Loki, her new buddy, had loaned her. He of course had to shrink it to a manageable size for her to hold. The ending of the book had been amazing and full of suspense and she was aching for what was to come next. She slipped her woolen slippers on, all of her clothes were made out of wool since borrowers like herself were sensitive to the elements. Sneaking out of her home was a doable but exhausting task. Since Loki wasn’t the only person in the building so she had to watch out for others. Humans weren’t cruel people but their curiosity caused them to do unspeakable things, with no care to how it would affect others.

She lived in a small hole by the kitchen counter. It was easier to get food, supplies and simply keep an eye on the news around the bullying since everyone usually gathered in the kitchen and spoke occasionally. Peeking out and double-checking to be sure there were no humans around, she sprinted to Loki’s room. However, she had not checked well enough.

“What is that?” A curious voice said.

“Such a little thing aren’t ya?.” Her heart sped with fear and her little legs pumped furiously with power in each step begging to reach Loki’s room.

She’d be safe, get to see Loki, start reading her new bo-

Then she ran into a soft, firm wall. A pale wall.

A palm.

Before she had recognized the situation she was in, her body was effortlessly scooped up and dropped roughly into a jar. She scrambled to her feet looking out the clear walls to be met with a giant face. A man stared back at her with curious brown eyes and short chestnut hair. Her heart pounded with panic as he shouted loudly to his companion. She covered her ears at the loudness of his tremendous voice, causing her to drop Loki’s shrunken book.

The strange man picks her glass prison up to bring her closer to his eyes. The brown orbs blink with wonder and fascination staring at her like an animal at the zoo. Soon more pounding vibrates the air around her, indicating there are more giants coming nearer.

“Tony, whatcha got there?” Another man with wavy dark hair asks. He looks as if he is nervous to approach her.

Tony, the man who is apparently holding her captive shoves the jar into this new man’s hands. Y/N whimpers as her small body is thrown hard into the glass wall. Her shoulder aches with pain and unwanted tears escape her eyes.

“She’s so...small.” New guy says.

“Yeah I know right? Found her scurrying along the floor. Imagine if there are more of her out there!” Tony remarks, and she already hears the plans of an experiment forming in his head. Her stomach fills with dread.

The new guy passes Tony the jar containing her back to him but Tony’s grip is slack. Her jar falls towards the floor waiting for a terrible breaking of glass and her bones. She floats in the air from the force of the fall and then suddenly she hits the bottom of the jar harshly landing on her already hurt shoulder and lets out a sharp cry of pain. A palm surrounds the glass, looking up she sees Tony staring down at her with wide eyes. Her attention is drawn back to her arm as white-hot pain flashes through the appendage. She starts sobbing from the blinding pain in her arm, the fear of being experimented on, and worst of all, never being able to see Loki again. She buries her face in her unhurt arm and lets her shirt soak her tears and the sound of her sobs.

Loki was worried. It had been a while since he had seen his small friend. She usually came to visit every other day, if not every day. However, he had not caught sight of her at all. Then he heard voices in the kitchen talking about experiments. He knew them to be Tony’s and Bruce’s. But the nearly indistinguishable whimpers he recognized to be Y/N’s. He rushed to the kitchen in a blind panic and mad fury. His eyes fell upon a troubling scene that broke his heart. Y/N was in a small glass jar, weeping. Tony held her loosely and Bruce stared with wide eyes doing absolutely nothing to help the small being. Loki rushed forward and snatched the jar out of Tony’s hands being careful not to cause Y/N to slam into the side. He immediately teleported right back to his room, deciding to deal with the two scientists later and focus on Y/N as of now. He tilted the jar to the side and gave Y/N the chance to come out of her own accord. She paid no attention to his offer, her shoulders shaking with sobs and leftover fear. He gently tilted the jar causing her to slide onto his palm, a small object falling alongside her. A book. She must have been on her way to return it to him.

He didn’t know why but a pang of sorrow and guilt flashed through his heart.

He tenderly caressed her back in a circling motion with a single fingertip. He hushed her cries, not to tell her feelings weren’t valid, but only so she could calm down and they could speak. A few tears later her sobs quieted and he slowly brought her to his eyes, able to see her swollen, red eyes and the trails of leftover tears.

“Oh, my poor dear. I am so terribly sorry. I should’ve been there sooner. Please forgive me.” Loki watched her as she raised her eyes to meet his. He smiled reassuringly trying to ease her spirits even more. She tried a small smile of her own and held her arms out towards Loki. He delicately pressed her form against his cheek and felt her body instantly relax as she spread her arms a laughable distance over the expanse of his cheek. After a few more tender-hearted moments he released her.

“I see you brought the book back, did you enjoy it?” He picked the tiny postage-stamp-sized book off his palm and grew it back to its normal size. She nodded vigorously to his question.

“I loved it! Do you have the next one?” She said eagerly, standing up in his palm. He laughed at her excitement, glad to see her fear gone.

“Woah, my little bookworm. I don’t want you falling off.” He gently nudged her to a sitting position, immediately concerned by the pained look that had crossed her face as he did so.

“Are you hurt dear?” Loki pressed.

“It’s my arm, I got hurt in the j-jar,” Y/N said with a stutter in her voice at the end, her fear of the past entrapment obvious. A shot of anger flared through Loki.

“Let us look at that shall we?” Loki said as a question, but Y/N knew it was a demand.

He carried her over to his clean, paperless desk and set her down carefully to not hurt her arm any further. He walked off momentarily to gather supplies, returning with scissors, an elastic wrap, and some sort of cream. She watched as he sat down, his towering torso taking her entire eyeline up. She knew not to be afraid of Loki anymore as she had been in the past. Though he was a giant and towered over her without effort he proved to be gentle and able to hold his curiosity at bay showing care for others’ feelings, especially hers.

She giggled at how concentrated he was on the task of cutting down a wrap that wouldn’t swallow her arm.

“Do tell do you find so amusing?” Loki asked not looking up from his work. He sometimes came off intimidating but Y/N knew he only taunted and did not mean it at heart.

“You’re so focused Loki.” She admitted.

“Well Y/N, I don’t know if it has occurred to you but your smaller size does require a smaller bandage than mine would, therefore I must cut it to the proper size for you.” He looked up at her shooting her a grin.

Y/N smiled at his sarcastic remark. He finished cutting it down to size and asked her to extend her arm. He rubbed cream onto her sore arm informing her that it would take away the pain. And it did instantly, the cool cream sent the uncomfortable heat away. Then he began to wrap her arm with surprising technique, especially for someone so small. She only reached the second joint of his thumb, and his other fingers surmounted her tiny frame.

“Let’s find that other book shall we?” Loki asked presenting a helpful palm at her feet. She tried to climb on with one arm but apparently one needed two arms to do that. Sensing her struggle, Loki pinched her waist with practiced care, lifting her to his shoulder where she was eventually going to go anyways. He let her off onto the broad platform and steadied her with a finger curled around her waist when she stumbled.

“Thank you Loki,” Y/n said curling up next to his neck, the pounding of his pulse a welcomed sensation.

His voice vibrated her as he spoke: “You’re welcome my little bookworm.”

#giant loki #loki #borrower #giant/tiny #tiny reader #loki laufeyson #the avengers #gt marvel

[gwenore]

The Demon’s Opera house. Chapter 21.

Chapter 21: The masquerade begins. 

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The large concert hall was a veritable explosion of light, music and color so much that it hardly seemed to be a part of the hedonistic feywilde rather than any place on earth… It seemed like the world of grey and drudgery for one night had been some bad nightmare compared to this world which only would exist for one night inside these doors.

Meg stared around in absolute wonder at such splendor…

Of course being a part of the opera she had seen glimpses into this world on stage… but this… it was absolutely grand…

This was the world which only so very few people would be able to partake in. Of course there was a part of her which wanted that more than she could really say… It was just so…

Wonderful.

“Enjoying the sights?” she heard Raoul’s voice from behind her as she spun around to see him standing there with a grin upon his lips.

“It is beautiful…” she said with amazement in her words.

He let out a soft sound as he nodded his head. “Suppose it is.”

“You cannot say that this is some of the most wonderful things that you have ever seen!” Meg declared as she mentioned her hand out towards everything.

Raoul looked around, again giving a shrug of his shoulder, the shoulder cape of his costume flowing with as he did so.

“Not too much different than any other masquerade…” he had seen so many through his life, having been dragged through far too many. It was a lot of fun though. But oh well…

He laughed softly as the look on Meg’s face was showing that she was seemingly deathly offended at his statement.

“But it is certainly a nice one,” he said with a soft tone in his voice, laughing softly.

This seemed to appease her somewhat and she let out a soft breath, having to roll her eyes slightly at him.

“So…” Raoul glanced around. “Has Christine arrived yet?”

Meg swallowed slightly as she glanced around, shaking her head.

“No… I have not seen her,” she said.

“She didn’t arrive with the rest of you from the opera house?” Raoul had to raise a brow. It had been a very pleasant surprise when Christine had declared that she would join the masquerade.

He hadn’t seen her much as he had been very busy with the arrangements and being practically in charge of everything. Even if it mostly meant signing off on things and shutting down some of the more outrageous ideas which came from the managers…

The peacocks would have been a disaster…

But he had seen that she was of much higher spirits than she had been in a long time. It seemed that dark sky which had been hanging over her for some time had practically vanished.

It made him so happy to be able to see his old friend like that again.

It felt like it had been such a long time since he had seen her so carefree and happy.

He could only hope that he would be able to see that often from now on, and that whatever gloom which had held her in its grasp was now banished for good.

He simply wanted to see his friend smile again… more than anything that was something that he wanted.

“She said that her tutor would bring her last time we spoke.”

Raoul perked up his head at Meg’s words. He hadn’t heard that before, she must have neglected to tell him… or not wanted him to know.

“She didn’t tell you?” Meg questioned.

“I suppose that it slipped her mind…” Raoul glanced down ever so slightly.

“There has been much going on as of late, so no wonder that she has plenty on her mind…” Meg shrugged her shoulders.

Raoul nodded his head.

“I believe that you are right in that,” he said with a soft laugh, though he could not keep from feeling rather… uneasy.

He couldn’t explain why he felt like that…

But there was something in the air which… which told him of a dark foreboding. Raoul wasn’t used to feeling this way.

In fact a criticism which had often been levied against him was that he was far too frivolous in his cares and only saw the bright side of the world rather than its harsh reality.

But now…

In this splendor where it should be so easy to simply enjoy the grandeur of it all… he felt as a dark shadow had entered the place.

Come to think of it…

It had usually only been something that he had felt around the opera house, but… he had always chalked it up to the fact that it was a rather eerie building.

At times he wondered what on earth the architect must have thought when he made some of the decisions that he did.

No wonder people believed that he had been influenced by some sort of demon.

Of course Raoul knew that was practically laughable, but the man was clearly not in his right mind. A genius perhaps, but a mad one.

With the fact that he had hung himself on opening night were enough proof to say that the man was very troubled indeed.

Still… he had no idea what had come over him. Perhaps he should find himself more to drink… even if he wasn’t entirely certain if that would do him any good, but it might just take his mind off things and allow him to enjoy the evening.

That was something that he felt was sorely needed at this point.

“There she is!”

Raoul had been so lost in his own thoughts that he practically startled that hearing Meg’s voice breaking through his fog.

Turning around he saw her, dressed up as a most magnificent angel in shimmering white and silver fabric, him able to see two small wings just peaking out from above her shoulders.

Her face was hidden by a feather decorated mask with silver beading and together with her golden hair she did truly look like an angel…

More so than words could really say.

Raoul could not help but to be absolutely enthralled by her.

However… part of what made her shine so bright was the man by her side who was the darkness to Christine’s light.

He was tall and lanky and all dressed in a blood red which looked even darker next to Christine offset by a dark mask which covered most of his face which curved into two long black horns.

“Mephistopheles…”

The name seemed to fall out of Raoul’s mouth.

No doubt this was the figure that his brother had seen that time in the opera house. If he was dressed like that it was no doubt that his brother would say such a thing…

Then again his brother had said that he only had one horn and that it wasn’t attached to the mask.

In fact his brother had been unable to figure out how it did attach as he still would wonder about that all this time later.

Perhaps that was an earlier version of this costume… though that admittedly didn’t make all that much sense as the masquerade had not yet been discussed at that point. Or perhaps it had and Raoul hadn’t been told about it yet.

Though that seemed almost impossible as it seemed strange that Firmin and Andre would speak about that with some musical tutor… whom he had never once heard them name or speak about at all… before the one that they had to ask for money from.

Then again… who would walk around dressed as the devil without there being a reason for it?

Raoul still felt absolutely lost, but… he knew that there was something off about this man.

Hell… if someone could be confused for a demon… he did not doubt that he would be a good contender for that…

Again… Raoul hardly believed in any of that…

“Hmm… at least we will finally be able to meet with this mysterious… tutor…” he said as he moved over towards where Christine and this mysterious man was standing.

  Christine was feeling as if her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest. Erik had led her out into the another part of the maze next to the chapel that they had been living in that she had never been before.

It was impossible to see anything in there, and it was clear this was how Erik got around town. She wondered if it was part of the Parisian sewer system… but she didn’t see much in the way of water… at least in that area…

They seemed to have been going up at least and they then came to a door which Erik opened showing that they were in an alleyway rather close to where the masquerade was being held.

“It is as close as we can get… there is a bit of a walk… will you be alright?” he asked, even with his mask she could see concern in those red eyes.

“My legs still work Erik. Besides most are walking from the opera house or other places, not many can actually afford taking a wagon that work there,” she pointed out.

“Still… you deserve to be taken in the grandest of wagons… not sneaking around like this…” Erik muttered mostly to himself.

Christine shook her head. “I am perfectly fine. But come! we have a wonderful night ahead of us!” she exclaimed as she took his arm and led him into the hall.

  Inside Erik had to take a deep breath. He had never been among so many people before. Before this… he had only been able to watch from afar…

Now he was in the middle of everything and that… that was something which he had never thought he would be ever able to do.

He gritted his teeth slightly, feeling a bit frustrated at this human world which he had always been shut out from due to the circumstances of his birth.

Feeling the young woman pressing his arm against her body that frustration only grew.

He knew that he was not able to give her anything of what she deserved. She did not complain… she certainly was not the type to do that…

But to think that she would be so deprived by being with him.

Still… at least he could give her this night at the very least.

To see how her blue eyes sparkled in amazement and that smile on her lips…

He wanted to give her more of that. Oh, how he wanted to bask in the sunlight of her smile for an eternity…

He would never need the sun if he had that...

Christine could not really believe what she was seeing… this place… it was so magical…

The lights… the people… the colors! The sounds!

It was… magic. That was the only way that Christine could describe what she was seeing before her.

There was something exciting about everyone hiding behind a mask… which was the very reason that the man beside her was able to be here.

But… with someone like Erik being able to hide behind a mask… what else were hiding in this place?

Christine could not imagine that demons were a common occurrence, but… if it happened once… then it could happen again. Moreover if demons existed did that not mean that angels did as well?

What of all the other beings which she thought were only myth until now?

She wanted to ask Erik, but had a feeling that he would tease her for her curiosity… besides… did Erik know?

She supposed he would, at least better than most, but…

It wasn’t as if his father had been in his life to teach him these things so…

It would make sense if he didn’t.

Still…

Christine knew that she had to ask.

She glanced over at said man, the mask covering his face. She could not see his expression and how the rage which was branded on his face.

In this moment, Christine could feel nothing but joy… oblivious to the reason that Erik was burning hotter than usual.

It was a warning which would come back to haunt her.

“Oh! There is Meg and Raoul!” She exclaimed excitedly. Erik let out a low sigh. He had noticed Raoul a long time before she did, his very presence a sting to his own soul.

Still… there was not much which he could do about this so he just gave a graceful nod towards it.

“Well…” he then murmured. “Suppose we should give our greetings.”

Christine swallowed. “Are we certain that is wise?” she questioned.

Erik let out a sigh. “At this point… I believe it to be our best option if we wish to avoid even more questions coming your way,” he explained to her.

Christine nodded her head. To avoid her two best friends would without a doubt make them ask questions as to the nature of her relationship with Erik.

They already did after all…

Avoiding them… that she knew would not end well.

“Then…” she said with a nervous tone to her voice. “Let us go greet them…”

#the demon's opera house #poto erik/christine #poto fic #poto demon erik fic #poto e/c

[halothenthehorns]

MAD-EYE MOODY

Sirius couldn't wait to get his chapter going, he was surprised how much he missed reading this.

Monday morning* dawned with another overcast sky, while below it eating breakfast sat the twins and Lee still discussing the Triwizard Tournament.

"I would expect nothing less of them," James smirked.

"I wonder who won all the previous tournaments," Remus' eyes sparked with interest, wishing he'd done more than just heard some passing stories about this.

"I know that Beauxbatons won 62 times, while Hogwarts 63," Harry prattled off, then gave a shrug and said, "don't tell me you're surprised Hermione knows random facts about this thing."

That gave them all a laugh as they agreed.

  Ron was looking over his schedule, saying at least they had all morning outside with Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, but bemoans they were still taking the later with the Slytherins.

"They don't change that in between years," Lily sighed, "you're stuck with them until your fifth year ends at least."

For some reason this didn't seem to make Harry feel any better.

Harry was looking at it as well, and groaned about having a Double Divination in the afternoon.

Both Harry and Sirius felt a chill creep up their spine, their last experience with that class hadn't ended well.

Divination was his least favorite subject,

"Including-" Remus began in amazement but Sirius kept going loudly,

apart from Potions.

"Well alright then," he chuckled as he leaned back.

Professor Trelawney kept predicting Harry's death, which he found extremely annoying.

"Especially since it doesn't even get you out of homework," James grumbled.

Hermione was saying how they should have dropped that class like she had, while buttering up some toast,

"Still wishing I had," Harry huffed, that prophecy had done him a lot more harm than good at the end.

Sirius though caught on something else as he yelped, "hey, she's eating again."

"Couldn't really see her holding out that no food grudge forever," Remus snorted.

that they could be doing something more useful like Arithmancy if they had.

"Is it still too late to do that?" Harry sighed.

"You'd have to take it up with McGonagall," Lily shrugged. "Have a valid reason for switching, which I suppose harassment by a teacher repetitively telling you you're going to die counts."

"Hermione had so many extra classes last year she wouldn't have had to give one," James added on thoughtfully.

Harry sighed, wishing he had done something about this, but still couldn't seem to shake that feeling that he may be grateful someday he kept up with Trelawny.

Ron noticed Hermione was eating again, to which she replied she'd thought up a better way to help elf's. Ron laughed that she was also hungry.

"Well that to," Remus agreed, knowing she wouldn't admit to that.

There was a distracting noise above as all the owls came in to deliver the morning paper, but amongst the colors Harry could not spot his own.

This time even Sirius couldn't keep up the bravado that everything was fine. Time had been hedging on so long, he really was starting to get a 'walk over your grave' type of feeling the longer he went without answering. Still, he was thankful he was the one reading, as his managing to keep going was a reminder to the others he was just fine now.

Harry was starting to get a very bad feeling, was it possible that something had happened to Hedwig, and Sirius hadn't even gotten his letter?

"No offense to Hedwig, but I like that answer better than something having happened to Sirius," Remus murmured under his breath, to which Lily couldn't help but agree with.

He couldn't think of anything else all the way to Herbology, but was soon thoroughly distracted by finding what the class had to do today. They resembled slugs coming out of the soil, each pulsing and with many large pustules.

"Gross," Sirius said extra loudly, catching everyone's eye with a hard glint telling them to drop it, no need to make a fuss until real evidence showed up.

James cracked first, nodding along and saying, "agreed, one of the worst Herbology classes, those thing should be classified as a punishment."

"Were great for a little surprise though," Remus added on more heavily than he meant to, but at least he'd tried. Sirius still gave him a winning smile and ignored how they still kept watching him a little too closely.

Professor Sprout explained they were Bubotubers, and the class today was to collect the pus, despite several students' protest of how gross this was. Apparently it was extremely valuable, and they were to wear their gloves while squeezing them into the glass jars, as the liquid could cause bad things to happen to exposed skin.

Popping the tubers was disgusting, yet oddly satisfying.

Lily snorted in surprise, flexing her hand in disgust at the thought, but upon contemplation she could see where Harry was coming from.

By the end of the lesson they had several pints to show for it, and Professor Sprout seemed very happy as she said Madam Pomfrey in particular would be thankful for this, it was a great remedy to get rid of stubborn acne.

"Oh, but it has so many more uses," Sirius sighed with an old smile the others knew far too well.

"None that need to be shared right now," Lily said pointedly to a very curious Harry who loved hearing their old stories.

James pouted at her, as he loved nothing more than sharing with his son all the mischief he'd gotten up to at school, but Sirius went back to his reading anyways.

Hannah did say that another girl named Eloise had tried to curse hers off.

"Ooh," Lily coed.

"Really would have been best if she'd tried asking for help with that first," Remus grimaced in agreement.

Sprout agreed that had been foolish, but Pomfrey had put her nose back on straight in the end.

Harry did a double take in surprise. He'd never seen her as far as he knew, but surely any acne couldn't have been that bad?

They were dismissed from class then, and headed down towards Hagrid's hut, where they found said man holding back his dog Fang who was straining to go have a sniff at several crates.

"Brilliant," James beamed, "he's clearly moved on from those worms."

"Glad to hear it," Sirius nodded on with high curiosity, "as we know he can do better."

The closer they got, they could hear odd miniature explosions coming from said boxes.

"This should be fun," Remus chuckled, his mind already spinning on what could be in there.

Harry's first instinct was to disagree, a feeling already rising in him saying he did not like whatever this was at once.

Hagrid greeted them cheerfully, telling them they should wait for the Slytherins to arrive as he knew they wouldn't want to miss these,

"I know one that doesn't give a rat's ass," Lily muttered.

Blast-Ended Skrewts!

Harry watched them all expectantly, but was surprised to find no one here recognized the name. This only managed to increase his unease, but still he asked in normal tones, "so, no fun facts about this?"

"I've no idea what they are," Remus shrugged, his brow wrinkling up showing his displeasure at that statement.

"Maybe something newly discovered," Sirius offered, sounding even more interested now.

Harry took a look inside the box and found hundreds of little odd creatures. Each were only a few inches long, and a grotesque pink, all climbing over each other with no discernable heads, but many legs that seemed to stick out in odd directions, each with a pincer on the end. The bang noise came whenever one randomly decided to take off by shooting fire out of its rear, propelling it forward.

"Well that was, fascinating," Lily got out, not really sure how else to put it. She certainly wasn't drawn to, whatever those were, and they hardly sounded like anything she wanted to be around.

"Those really do sound interesting," Remus agreed without the sarcasm. "For some odd reason though, they sound like a cross between manticores and fire crabs."

"Oh come on Remus," Sirius chuckled, "I'm sure it's just something newly discovered. Can you imagine those two things breeding?"

Remus agreed it was a laughable idea, those had just been the first two things he'd thought of that they resembled, but it must be something else.

"Plus, I like to think Hagrid's done enough illegal stuff for a while," James muttered.

Hagrid was proudly explaining that they'd only just hatched, and they were going to be this class's pet project.

"That sounds, fun," James said, trying his hardest for some enthusiasm, though he couldn't deny he would have enjoyed the thought more if any of them actually knew what those things were.

Malfoy arrived on the scene then, demanding to know why they'd want to do such a thing. Hagrid looked stumped at the question.

"That's encouraging," Lily snorted, unable to stop her mind spinning slightly why Hagrid would hesitate on this. Shouldn't he know that kind of answer before he started the class? She liked Hagrid of course, but she really was beginning to wonder how well adept at teaching he was.

Malfoy kept going, demanding to know what the point of these things were, but Hagrid said that was for the next lesson.

"In other words, he has no idea," Remus sighed.

"Please tell me I'm the only one getting a bad feeling about this," Sirius frowned. "Someone tell me they're not thinking what I am."

None of them could though, as the longer this carried on, they were starting to wonder just how new this discovered species was.

Today they were just to be fed, and Hagrid had collected several different things for them to try since he wasn't sure.

"And it's still getting worse," Lily grumbled.

Seamus was grumbling how terrible this morning was going,

"I'll take the pus, at least I know what it is" Lily sighed.

as they each began trying to tempt the Blast-Ended Skrewts into eating even though they weren't even sure where the mouth was.

"Least they can't bite Ron like that," Sirius happily offered.

The next shout of noise came from Dean, who screeched that one of them had got him.

"Guess they can still pinch though," James gave a weak smile.

Hagrid went over to him as Dean explained its back end had exploded on his hand, leaving him with a burn.

The boys really couldn't suppress some surprised laughter at his expense, anyone getting burned by a creatures butt would be laughed at.

Lavender called Hagrid over next, asking what a pointy thing on some of them were? Hagrid explained the ones with stingers were likely males, and the others that had suckers on their stomachs were probably female, and they'd use those to suck blood.

"Well this is just wonderful," Lily sighed, running her hand through her hair while her eyes continued narrowing in suspicion.

"They're getting better by the second," Sirius agreed mildly.

Malfoy drawled out with sarcasm how he could really see the use of these things, they could burn, sting and bite you all at once!

"I'd love to give you one," James snarked. "Let it loose in the Slytherin common room."

Hermione shot back that they didn't have to be cute to be useful! Dragon's blood had all sorts of magical properties, but no one wanted them for a pet.

"I don't find that a valid point," Sirius shivered.

"I do, though it saddens me Hermione had to make Hagrid's point," Lily shrugged.

"We know she needs to get her word in, she probably just beat him to the punch," James offered.

Harry and Ron almost laughed, as they knew Hagrid was the exception to that and would love a pet dragon,

"Again," all five of them muttered with unhappy remembrance.

or another one at least, as he'd once housed a baby Norwegian Ridgeback he'd deemed Norbert.

Class was dismissed then, and as they went back to the castle Ron offered that at least they were small.

"Dragons are fairly small when they first hatch," Remus sighed, "that doesn't mean how big they'll grow."

"You are not helping," Lily scolded.

Hermione corrected that they were now, but once Hagrid figured out how to feed them, they'd likely grow.

"Neither's Hermione," James snorted.

Ron shot back with a sly smirk that if they cured seasickness, it would be worth it.

"Well there's that," Sirius gave a laugh.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, saying they knew full well she'd just said that to shut up Malfoy. To be honest, she thought he was right in this instance, it would be better to get rid of them while they had the chance.

"Harsh," Remus said in surprise.

"This coming from the girl who's jumping to every conclusion possible about house-elves, you'd think she'd give these little things a chance," James agreed.

They made it to lunch then, but while Harry and Ron began piling up their plate, Hermione grabbed everything around her and began eating at top speed.

"Guess she was really hungry," Sirius raised a brow in surprise.

Harry was getting a feeling, like he knew there was a reason in particular Hermione would be in such a hurry to eat, but didn't press it and instead remained as confused as the rest of them.

Ron asked if this was her new goal, to make herself puke?

"That would be more insulting than helpful," James scoffed, "she must know that."

Hermione managed to get out a no around a mouthful of sprouts,

Sirius pretended to retch over the side of the sofa at having so many vile vegetables in your mouth at once.

saying she needed to get up to the library.

"Aw, I think she missed her real best friend," Remus snickered.

Ron demanded to know why, they hadn't even been given homework yet.

"Has that ever actually stopped her before?" Lily snorted.

Hermione didn't answer though, shoveling the rest of her food away before sprinting off.

Harry and Ron ate at their normal pace, then left for their Divination class.

"I don't suppose since she was so insanely wrong last year about you dying, she'll quit this year?" Sirius asked without any real hope.

"I wouldn't hold your breath," Harry sighed.

Once the class had all been seated, Trelawny entered as if from the shadows, making most of the students jump. She emerged right next to Harry, and told him she sensed he looked preoccupied.

"Every student in that school could be considered preoccupied about something," Lily scoffed.

She continued watching him with those wide eyes, telling him that the thing he feared most would soon come to pass.

"That was so vague, it wouldn't matter what happened, she'd claim credit for it," Remus rolled his eyes.

Then she turned away back to the rest of the class, explaining to them that this semester they'd be focusing on the stars. They would be focusing on the movement of the planets to ordain...

"Isn't this what the centaurs do?" James asked with only vague curiosity, just trying to get her talking to stop for a moment.

"I think it's more elaborate," Sirius shrugged, he really only had the faintest idea like the rest of them, "but yeah, something similar."

but Harry wasn't listening anymore.

All four of them couldn't help but laugh at that, none of them could blame him one bit as they'd been hoping her little speech would be cut off soon as well.

This room had always put Harry to sleep, though today in particular he couldn't help but chew on what she'd said to him.

Harry had an unhappy little frown on his face again at the thought of that. He knew that she was in fact a real Seer, and she'd made quite a few right predictions last year no matter her agitating personality. What if this was one of them? The thing he was most currently dreading happened to be something would happen to Sirius, but that couldn't be it, right?

He tried to shake his worry off, Hermione was right and Trelawny was a fraud, and Harry wasn't dreading anything...except that something might have happened to Sirius.

That caught them all up with Harry's line of thinking, and Sirius couldn't help but lose a few shades of color in shock. He had been the first to believe in this woman's real power, and he'd regretted it ever sense as she continued to somehow manage to make his life hell because of it. There was no way that she was right about this though, he was fine! He had to be, for Harry's sake as well as his own. He knew he'd never forgive himself if something did happen to him, and he'd be virtually leaving Harry on his own again. Until he had concrete proof from this stupid little text that something had happened to him, he smothered that terrible fear and put on a confident smile for the others, feeding the line, "ah, the old quack is just winding you up pup. You know she'd love nothing more than to see she'd gotten under your skin."

Harry gave him a brave smile, but none of that even began to erase their worry which would linger until the moment Sirius' name was cleared.

Trelawny couldn't know that though. Harry had long since put down her odd predictions to luck.

Lily longed for the days where she'd believed that.

Except for last year, where she'd made a true prophecy while in a trance, even Dumbledore had confirmed that.

Yeah, that was about where all of their suspicions were coming from as well.

Ron snapped Harry out of his musing, and he jerked around to see that Trelawny was watching him with resentment that he hadn't been hanging on her every word.

"He had much more important things to be thinking about," Sirius said with as much pompousness as he could put into his tone.

"You think you're more important than Merlin himself," Lily said halfheartedly with none of her usual ire.

Sirius gave her a winning smile which she couldn't help but roll her eyes at.

She repeated now that she did have Harry's attention that he was most certainly born under Saturn, it was there in his dark hair,

"That's genetics you beanbag," James snorted.

mean stature,

"I fault that to nutrition," Lily scathed under her breath, knowing that while James had been scrawny in his youth, he would have shot up by this age point, while Harry still seemed to be lacking due to his home life.

and the tragic losses of his young life.

"Which is always a loving reminder," Sirius got out through gritted teeth.

She predicted that he'd been born in midwinter.

All five of them began laughing without remorse at that. Considering all the right predictions she'd made, it was nice to see her be so utterly wrong about this when none of them could still take a lingering eye off of Sirius.

Harry corrected that he'd been born in July, which made Ron turn his laugh into a cough.

"He's more restraint than we do," James got out, still laughing so hard at least they were pretty sure that's what he'd said.

As the class continued, Trelawny gave them all star charts, and told them to map the planets at the time of their birth. It was boring work, as they mostly had to focus on calculations. When Harry was done, he found he had two Neptune's.

"Probably means you're going to visit the ocean or something," Remus snorted.

Ron began imitating Trelawney's voice, telling him that two Neptune's meant that a midget in glasses was being born.

Sirius was starting to list against the arm of the couch he was laughing so hard, still blinking as fast as he could to try and keep himself going even while doing so.

Across the room, Lavender had Trelawney's attention, asking her to come identify a planet for her. Trelawny said it was Uranus, and Ron whispered if he could have a look at Lavenders Uranus too.

At least Lily tried to suppress her humor at that one, juvenile as it was, but the joke had been so unexpected she wasn't doing too well.

Harry, Seamus, and Dean all began laughing loudly at that one, which sadly caught Trelawney's attention, and might have been the reason for their extra homework.

"Nah, I'll bet she'd have done that even if you did fawn over her," Remus rolled his eyes.

"She seems as strict as McGonagall, without the intentional fun side," James nodded in agreement.

She wanted a detailed account of the planetary movements for the next month and predictions on how they would affect them, her snappy tone now resembling McGonagall,

"There's James's proof to back it up," Sirius said without remorse. He'd been longing since the first book just to hear about something as mundane as Harry getting extra homework, so despite his pup's put out look, he was going to yuk this up as long as possible.

and she wanted it Monday!

Ron called her a few choice words as they left that day, complaining how that would take them all weekend to do! Hermione caught up with them and asked if they'd been given homework, because Vector hadn't given them any.

"Wishing more and more I'd taken Arithmancy," Harry grumbled.

They were on their way down to dinner and had almost made it to the Great Hall when they were hailed by Malfoy.

"Just keep walking," Lily said hopefully.

"And miss the opportunity to hear what he's got to say," James demanded, pretending to look faint at the idea. "Whatever would he do with himself then?"

Ron snapped what he wanted, and Malfoy shouted back loud enough for all around to hear that his dad had wound up in the papers again.

"Well this can't be good," Remus frowned.

"Hasn't always been bad," Sirius countered back with a small twist of his own lips.

He began reading from a copy of the Daily Prophet the headline that the Ministry was still making mistakes. Rita Skeeter was again the author of the piece as she explained that the Ministry was again in disgrace because of yesterday when Arnold Weasley,

"Now they're just being insulting," James sneered at the misuse of Arthur's name.

"It should hardly be considered credible if they can't even keep their own simple fact like a name straight," Lily nodded.

but Malfoy cut himself off there to look up and laugh at Ron that they hadn't even gotten his name right, he really was a nobody!

"Wish you were!" Harry seethed, tensing up more every line Sirius read.

Malfoy had the attention of every student around him as he kept reading that Weasley had come to the aid of one 'Mad-Eye' Moody, an ex-Auror who was known for making false phone calls of distress. The aged man could no longer tell the difference between a handshake and an attack on his life, and Mr. Weasley's coming to his aide was a disgrace on the Ministry's behalf.

"He was asked to come onto that scene!" Lily spat in outrage. "Who the bloody hell is this woman to be saying all of this horrid stuff, what's she have against Arthur?"

"It's not just him," Remus reminded with an ugly look in place, "she's had a go at Bill, remember? They said the whole of the Curse Breakers, but the fact that he was specifically mentioned pops."

"So what's she have against the Weasleys," Sirius sighed.

"Nothing as far as I know," Harry grumbled, "at least Ron's never said anything, so maybe even he doesn't know."

"Maybe Arthur turned her down in school or something, and she's getting revenge," James offered with an almost amused smirk.

"If she's that petty then she's being sad, and you're depressing me," Lily rolled her eyes, flicking her fingers at Sirius to convince him to keep going.

Malfoy flipped the paper over when he was done, which showed a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in front of their house. Malfoy commented first on the patheticness of the house, then demanded to know if Mrs. Weasley was really that fat, or did the camera do a small bit of it?

Sirius did not look remotely pleased to have said such a horrid thing, but hoped dearly Harry and Ron would get him back enough that he didn't stop amongst the protest around him.

Harry's face flushed bright red in hatred, despising anyone speaking about Mrs. Weasley like that.

Ron began shaking in fury, but Harry called out for Malfoy to stuff himself, trying to drag Ron away.

"You're killing me Harry," James groaned, he wanted to see that brat cursed already!

Malfoy kept going though, remembering how Harry had been staying with the Weasleys, and demanded of him if she was really that porky?

"Couldn't say, nobody would notice but an f'ing little shit like you!" Remus growled.

Harry began to shout back, while having to grab hold of Ron to stop him having a go,

"I really wish you would stop doing that," Sirius snarled.

Harry had to take a deep breath to answer without shouting, "we were in front of the Great Hall, teachers everywhere, I didn't want to see him end up in detention without even getting proper revenge."

"Sometimes it's worth it," Remus huffed.

that his own mother had quite an expression on her face when Harry had seen her. He demanded to know if she always looked like she swallowed dung, or was it just because Draco was around?

"Brilliant dear," Lily made sure he heard her praise amongst the gale of laughter.

Harry didn't look as pleased as he normally would have at his mother's words, he was still too wrung up about why he'd had to throw that insult.

Malfoy went pink as he yelled at Harry not to insult his mother!

"Can't take what you dish out?" James sneered.

"Typical of his kind," Sirius nodded.

Harry suggested he keep his mouth shut then, beginning to turn away, when a shot of light went searing next to his cheek.

"He tried to curse you, when you were turning around?" Lily snarled.

"Can't say I'm surprised after all the dirty things he's done," Sirius grimaced with disgust, thankful that he'd missed and now Harry would have a chance to retaliate.

Harry was already spinning back around while reaching for his wand, when he heard the shout of 'no you don't laddie!'

James went wide-eyed in surprise, wondering who else had stepped in.

Harry turned properly to find Moody limping down the stairs, at the foot of which where Malfoy had been standing was a white ferret.

Sirius wasn't sure he'd read that right. He sat there gaping down at the book for several long moments before his eyes convinced his brain he'd really just read the most wondrous fact he could.

Then the others caught on, and all five of them were leaning back into their seating they were laughing so hard.

Only after several minutes did it vaguely subside, and Remus gasped out, "well, no one could say he didn't have that coming."

"A ferret-" James wheezed, "of all the, oh that's so perfect I couldn't have done better!"

Lily collected herself next, smoothing out her hair from her face but still unable to shake the smile this caused. Malfoy was an arrogant little thing who'd thrown the first punch, at Harry's back. No way could she find anything to protest in his getting this treatment.

Sirius got his breath back last, his eyes still watery from laughing so hard, and not sounding like he cared one jot.

The hall rang with silence as most of Moody turned to look at Harry, while his eye rolled into the back of his head.

"Cool," Sirius chirped, the more he heard about that thing the more it sounded like a pretty good compensation for losing an eye.

Moody asked if Harry had been hit, and he said no. Then Moody shouted 'leave it!' Harry asked what he meant, and Moody said he didn't mean him, while gesturing over his shoulder where Crabbe had been fixing to pick up the ferret.

"He can see out of the back of his own head with that?" Lily asked with mild disgust.

"Can see how that can come in handy though," Remus' grin widened as all the possibilities of this came to mind.

James got a smile in place of agreement before anyone noticed otherwise, but the second Sirius turned back it slipped away again to be replaced with confusion and concern. He just couldn't picture this in his head no matter how fascinating the idea.

Apparently Moody's magical eye could see through his own skull. Moody turned back around to face the Slytherin trio then, which made the ferret give a terrified squeak and try to make a run for the dungeons.

"Oh I hope you follow," Sirius begged Harry. "I would pay my weight to see that thing going to Snape, and him trying to figure out what it is!"

Harry gave another light laugh, but somehow got the feeling that wasn't what had happened.

Moody raised his wand again, and set the ferret ten feet into the air, then lowered him back down to the marble floor with a smack, before bouncing him back up again.

Causing the boys another round of ungraceful laughter, while Lily's brows shot up in surprise. She wasn't going to say anything about transfiguring him like that, though he was a teacher she reflected and wished he'd show better. But the physical violence was pushing what was called for in this situation.

"Oh come on Lily Flower," James wheedled when he caught sight of her expression. "You know Malfoy deserves this."

"I'm not arguing that," Lily shook her head with a small frown still in place, "but he could really hurt him doing that."

"You worry too much," Sirius scoffed, "you must know Moody won't cause him a permanent injury, just show him a bit of what a waste of space he is."

Lily still couldn't wipe away her concern, but Sirius moved on like she'd agreed with him anyways.

Moody was talking to Malfoy now, telling him he despised anyone who attacked their opponent with their back turned,

"I wonder if that might be how he got one of his injuries," Remus considered.

"Wouldn't surprise me," Sirius shrugged.

"Though he has always been against cowardice like that move," James pointed out.

still bouncing him around with every word as he told that this was a cowardly thing to do.

Lily sighed as she ran her hand up and down her face, did Sirius have to sound so indulgent as he said all of that.

The ferret was flailing around trying to escape to no avail.

Moody instructed he was never to do that again, every word punctuated with another smack against the floor.

"I sincerely hope this did teach him a lesson," Remus nodded in agreement, only managing to increase Lily's consternation when Harry nodded as if in agreement.

Someone shouted Moody's name in shock, it was McGonagall coming down the stairs with her arms full of books.

"Why is she always carrying so many books around?" Harry asked out of the blue. "She can't have that much time to read."

"She does some other stuff besides teach," Lily happily explained, more than pleased at this change of topic while the boys looked mildly annoyed they'd been distracted from this perfect moment, and now McGonagall was likely going to ruin it altogether. "I know she submits essays and some opinion pieces to the Ministry on a few of the problems the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes division has. I'm sure most of those are for research, though like Hermione I wouldn't be too surprised if she did have just a fun reading novel mixed in there."

"You two get to talking about the weirdest things," James snickered when Harry looked like he was fixing to return with something.

Lily gave him a sharp glare, he was one to talk, but Sirius kept reading loudly to get back on track.

Moody greeted McGonagall calmly, still bouncing the ferret all the higher.

"Doesn't even-" which was all Remus could get out before he started laughing again, though forcing himself to be quiet enough Sirius would keep going.

McGonagall asked what he was doing as her own eyes followed the ferret's progress.

"Isn't it obvious?" James raised a brow at her, thinking she usually caught on faster than that.

"He's just helping out a fellow student," Sirius quickly nodded in agreement as if McGonagall were standing in front of them now.

Moody responded he was teaching.

"Well he's not wrong," Harry smirked.

McGonagall shrieked if that was a student, her books falling in surprise.

Cracking up all of the boys again, who started snickering like idiots in Lily's opinion. She was watching them indulgently now though, unable to stop her own spark of amusement now that she knew this wasn't going to progress further. At least McGonagall had always been quick on the uptake.

Moody simply said yep.

"Not even going to try-" James got out before he was holding his sides in laughter again.

McGonagall cried no right back,

"Her reaction's my favorite part," Harry got out, starting to gasp a bit he'd been laughing so hard.

now sprinting down the stairs and pulling out her own wand and transforming Malfoy back.

"Aw, she's such a killjoy," Sirius pouted down at the pages, even though he was trying for a sad tone at their fun being gone, it still wasn't getting rid of his amusement one jot.

She turned on Moody and began scolding him at once that teachers were not to use Transfiguration as a punishment!

Lily gave a sad sigh, wishing McGonagall had checked to see if Malfoy had an injury or anything.

Insisting that Dumbledore must have told him that!

Moody seemed unconcerned as he said the headmaster might have mentioned it,

"Oh yes, just a little side note, right along with don't slip Veritaserum into their morning breakfast," Lily snorted.

"Wish you could get away with stuff like that," James said, "it would have made Moony's time there a lot more interesting."

Remus didn't even bother to look abashed.

but he'd been thinking that a good shock to the boy,

"Well he definitely got that," Sirius crowed with triumph.

but McGonagall instructed they were to be given detentions, or to speak to the offender's Head of House.

"Not effective, and a nuisance," Lily rolled her eyes.

"Taking house points away seems to work best," Harry offered.

"For those who cared," James snorted.

Moody agreed he'd do that for now, turning his attention back on Malfoy who was muttering something about his father.

"I swear you could make a recording of him doing that, make him disappear, and no one would know the difference," Sirius snickered.

Moody limped towards him, snapping at him that he knew his father quite well.

"I'm hoping Moody wasn't the one investigating him on the charges of being a Death Eater," Remus sighed, "otherwise I'd be really disappointed he couldn't find anything."

"And we know Moody can't be bribed out of whatever he would have found," Sirius nodded in agreement, "so I'm with you, hopefully he just tried at his trial or something and couldn't get through."

To tell Malfoy senior that his boy was being watched. Then he directed that Snape was his Head of House? Malfoy gave a sulky yes, and Moody declared that was another old friend.

Lily sadly remembered a time where she would have felt upset at the way this news was delivered, making it perfectly obvious to anyone in the know that he was referring to Snape as a Death Eater as well in that instance, but that ship had sailed long ago.

Moody agreed he'd been looking forward to talking to Snape anyways, coming forward and seizing Malfoy's arm and dragging him off.

"I can't believe McGonagall let them go," Harry chuckled. "He may just drag Malfoy out of sight and transfigure him into a slug next."

"We can only hope," Sirius nodded in agreement.

McGonagall watched them go anxiously, but then summoned her books back to her arms and walked away. Harry and his friends finally made their way into the Great Hall, and sat down, to hear Ron instruct his friends not to talk to him for a moment.

"He's probably still trying to find where he left his breath at," James snickered, "I know I am."

Hermione asked why not, and Ron said it was because he was implanting that into his memory, Draco Malfoy the amazing bouncing ferret.

"I want to get that on a t-shirt," Sirius groaned, unable to believe he could still keep laughing as his head would likely fall off soon, but his body was trying.

Harry and Hermione both laughed, but Hermione did add on that Malfoy could have gotten hurt. It was good McGonagall had stepped in. Ron snapped at her that she was ruining the best moment of his life!

"That's the best moment of his life?" Lily snorted. "Poor boys got a long way to go then."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sirius scoffed at her, "I'd make the best patronus in the world with that memory!"

Hermione ignored him and began eating at top speed again.

Harry asked if she was going back to the library, which she agreed to. He tried to protest that she still didn't have any homework, and she cut him off that it wasn't for homework.

She cleared her plate in minutes then ran off.

"What on earth is she up to?" Remus demanded, mildly disappointed they had finally seemed to step off the topic of the ferret.

"Something to do with house-elves I'd presume," Lily said with much more curiosity, she knew she'd like to hear about this.

"Here's hoping Harry doesn't go and check," Sirius sighed.

Moments later the twins and Lee appeared, telling Harry and Ron about how cool Moody is! They'd just had his class this afternoon.

"I get a feeling Harry had a better lesson from him than you," James beamed.

Harry at once asked what it was like, and Fred said it was the best lesson ever.

"Aw, it's okay Moony, he didn't really mean it," Sirius told Remus with an amused smirk.

Remus rolled his eyes at the teasing, he hadn't taken that personally.

Lee agreed he knew things.

Ron asked for details, and George said that he knew what it was like to be out there doing it.

Harry asked doing what?

Fred said he knew about fighting the Dark Art's, George adding on that he'd seen it all! Lee finishing that it was amazing to listen to.

"Those three sound like you three," Lily smiled. "Honestly, he's not the only Auror in the world."

"But he is one of the best," James countered at once.

"He comes from a whole family of Aurors," Sirius added on, "so he's known what he's doing since he was in diapers."

"And he clearly gets results," Remus shrugged, "I wouldn't bet against him in a fight."

Lily started snickering when she realized they'd just proved her point, but wasn't going to pursue it.

Ron took another look at his schedule, and groaned that they didn't have his class till Thursday.

"I feel like that's the first time Ron's ever said anything about a class like that," Harry laughed as Sirius handed the book to him.

HPHPHPHP

* I found it! A lot of people were asking me back during book three why I thought all classes always started on a Monday, and this was my reasoning right here. September 2nd, 1994 was a Friday, not a Monday, so something is off about their days of the weeks compared to ours!

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #GoF #Marauders #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

[jackbabewang]

Genre: Veeeeery slight angst, Fluff, Best friends to lovers

Word count: 3,050

Being together is that—

No matter how many days, weeks, months, or years go by, keep every promises made.

a/n: heavily listened to coming home while writing this, maybe you should too

When we first met

Jaehyun was the kind of person who endeared himself to everyone who knew him and you were swept off your feet the first time you saw him, roaming the corridors looking for your new classroom where they’d been relocated in the beginning of each year. The school personnel had this system going on ever since the dramatic increase in the number of students and to suit the new batch of each grade, or simply cause of the Pungsu-Jiri (Korea’s Geomancy or Feng Shui) thingy. Yeah, it was kind of unnecessary. 

Given plenty of time to break away from each other’s gazes if you wanted to, but neither did even with your feet continued walking yourselves in the opposite direction. 

How could anyone have such warm brown eyes as those? It was virtually impossible! 

Jaehyun changed your whole life as you knew it. You became best of friends, and whispered to each other on every occasion possible.

Twenty minutes into the class you spent sipping your Coke with your head bent, under the desk, behind the erected textbook to shield yourself. 

History teachers were obsessed with things that weren’t there any more. They lived in the past and expected us to want to live there too. You couldn’t imagine that any history lesson can be a thrill a minute, but with Mr. Lee in command, the expression ‘to die for’ took on a whole new meaning. Mostly everyone sat there sighing and thinking, “Why are the clock hands moving so slowly, has the battery committed suicide?” Mr. Lee was a very boring teacher. You meant very boring. He looked boring and sounded boring and everything he said was boring. He was Mr. Boring-Boring, Sir Boringest, Lord Boring of Boring-in-the-Brain. He droned on and on and on about nothing you wanted to know, then wrote it all on the board and told us to copy it down, or write an essay on it, or ask him questions. He didn’t get many questions, mainly because no one had been listening or trying to read his crabby handwriting.

SLUUUURP— 

Reaching the bottom of your cup, though not too loudly, just loudly enough so that Mr. Lee, standing in the front, a few feet away, could hear you. 

“Who was that?” he roared, his eyes darting everywhere, scanning everyone, until they settled on you. 

Instinct was not about being the smartest, but it was about being in tune with your inner drive and you turned to your only friend. He first eyed you with confusion, then gave a questioning look over the top of his glasses

“Jung Jaehyun!” 

At the call of his name, his jaw dropped, eyes widened with disbelief, frustrated and full of rage at being your scapegoat. This girl! She’ll be the death of me. 

In the end, you compensated for your mistake by flashing him the widest smile in your footlocker collection of smiles.

The beginning: Promise of the youth

During the summer holiday, you secured a part-time job at a rental record store. Jaehyun would sometimes visit and you would play the newest music out dancing and clowning around when there were no customers in the store. 

“Hey, tell you something. That guy at the counter-” 

Jaehyun tilted his curious head to the direction of the said individual, not caring that the man would notice the two youngsters were openly discussing him. 

“Don’t be so obvious, idiot!” Your nudge turned him back to you, “He’s the store manager. Apparently he first met his wife here and they’ve been together since then. Believe it or not, it’s been fifteen years! Isn’t that amazing? I can’t believe anyone can fall in love for such a long time!” 

“You sure are a mathematician. And nosy.”

“I’m an expert when it comes to this.”

“Should put it into good use instead. Like, what? Education?”

“Shut up.”

When you met them, you didn’t understand what held them together. You remembered thinking, This is really an odd couple! After spending some time with them and learning their story, it all made sense. He was her anchor, and she was his ultimate challenge; but more than that, they genuinely seemed to love one another. 

“Gosh, I can't imagine how I'd be like when I'm thirty…” 

It was always the future—a perfectly vague, indefinite future that terrifies you. You wished you could stay like this forever, young forever, happy forever. Your needs are simple, far more so than the needs of an adolescent or adult. Just think of a child, laughing at the least thing that catches its fancy, the image of himself or herself in a mirror, or the way a family pet behaves. 

Here you have Jaehyun, the secret source of your happiness. 

His voice broke in upon your thoughts, “Thirty-year-old unmarried woman… There're tons of them!” 

“Thirty— I don’t want to be that—” You shuddered, fighting back waves of panic at the image of an old lady alone with too many cats. “If I’m still single at thirty, you have to marry me.” 

Your abruptness caught him off guard. He didn’t speak for a moment but there was a glint of mockery in his eyes, a mischievous smirk played on the corners of his lips, as if he wasn’t taking you any less seriously for it. 

“What kind of reaction is that?” So you nudged him in the ribs, laughing all the more when he made an overly dramatic wince. 

“I want to have a Harry Potter themed wedding… A sunflower bouquet… Ooh, and you know what? I’m gonna abandon the heels, they’re going to kill me!” 

He chuckled. What a lady. 

“How about you? Tell me about your dream wedding.” 

“That would be marrying the love of my life.” Then he grinned. The indentations in his cheeks called dimples, making his smile heart-meltingly sweet. His eyes crinkled almost closed when he smiled, too. 

“You’re boring.” 

“What were you expecting? Dyeing my hair blonde or pink or purple?”

“That would be nice too.” 

She fell in love

“Jung Jaehyun!” You shouted his name and started waving frantically. He recognized your voice immediately despite the muffling effect of your scarf. And his heart dropped to his feet when you barely checked the road for cars before you went streaking across it. 

Next to him was a guy you’d never met before. He was about the same height as Jaehyun, his right ear a bit pointed like an elf’s, and with a face like that, you damn sure would’ve remembered.

Grinning broadly, “This is my classmate, Sicheng.” 

“Hi.” As he spoke Korean with his delicate Chinese accent, the words dripped from his lips like honey. 

“And she is-” 

With a warm smile and you introduced yourself, interrupting whatever Jaehyun might have added. Though you’re already telling him of information which was much not needed.

“Oh… You both are-”

“We’re besties!” 

“We’re heading to the cafe for awhile, do you want to join us?” 

“Sure!” 

Then you fell for him and discovered that when it comes to romance, intelligence takes a back seat to stupidity. Jaehyun half agreed, half disagreed. To him, you’re always the latter even before your blind infatuation.

Cupid, that little rascal, had already fired his arrow into your heart and had no intention of letting you escape this magical feeling. And that’s how you described the whole theory of ‘Love at first sight’ to Jaehyun, who’d probably known it better than you did.

Then, she had her first heartbreak. 

“We broke up…” You showed up unannounced on his doorstep crying bitterly only for him to drag you to the courtyard, away from his dormitory where you wouldn’t be seen or heard wailing like a toddler who had lost her lollipop, where you wouldn’t be causing disturbance to the neighbouring students, and where he wouldn’t be mistaken for the one that shattered your heart into fragments. 

“He said I never stopped talking, said I talked too fast. He pretended he couldn’t understand Korean and talked shit about me in his Ching-Chong language. He said I’m annoying and loud…” You paused long enough to take a breath, and felt more tears streaming down your face. “Am I... Am I really that annoying?” 

Something about your current state made him want to pick you up and tenderly wrap you in a blanket of protection. It was laughable to hear you whining about ‘the Chinese guy’ you once fell head over heels for. He was trying hard to control his smile that wanted to show on his face, and shook his head instead. “No, not at all.”

“Am I loud?” 

Though afraid to fuel your outburst, “Sometimes…” It was a fact. 

“I am not loud…” You spun around and stomped toward the bench, your lips pouted in misery and your head placed in the south right now. 

When he patted your back in a futile attempt to calm you, you moved after his hand in double time. “Stop patting me…” A few incoherent mumbles of him being the annoying one instead, then, “Jung Jaehyun! If I’m still single at thirty, you have to marry me.” 

“You always say that.” 

“You need to swear it this time.” Wanting him to stay true to his words, you held his right hand up.

“Swear, what?” 

You rolled your glossy eyes and exhaled a breath in exaggerated impatience. Was he dumb or dumb?

“If I’m still single at thirty, Jung Jaehyun will have to marry me!” 

As he repeated, “If I’m still single at thirty, Jung Jae-”

“No!” You scolded and whacked him on the arm. “Idiot…” 

An uncontrollable smile stretched across your face as you slowly relaxed. He stared at you for a moment, grinning faintly, an amused glint in his eyes. There was magic in you, he decided. 

You slumped back into the bench, your eyes staring into space, your mind numb. Unshed tears blurred your vision and you caught the warm drops that slipped past with the backs of your hands. Naturally, you reached over and rubbed them on his jacket to try to wipe away the traces of madness. He never complained, of course. 

“You know… You do have a superpower…”

“What is it?”

“The superpower of making my tears disappear…”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. Talk about being a charmer. “That’s gross…”

Chill crawled down your spine and he mimicked your shiver. “You are gross.” 

Long time no see

At eleven o’clock, files for the meeting laid in front of him that he probably wouldn’t even notice his phone buzzing. He looked down at the familiar caller ID flashing on the screen. 

Without thinking twice he picked up the call. 

Immediately connected through the line, your piercing cry blasted his ear. “He said he wanted to break up with me…” Unbeknownst to yourself that it was so loud the people next to him could hear you. He smiled at his colleagues apologetically and quickly excused himself from the room. 

He found what he guessed to be an unused room, hidden away down a relatively quiet corridor. Then he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and one ankled hooked over the other. Even though he couldn’t see your face at the moment, he could paint a perfect picture of tears streaming down your face, snot hanging on your nose. 

“Okay, okay. Stop crying.” Jaehyun was laughing. You took no notice, but went on crying. The more you cried the more he laughed. Your sobs, like fulminations, were thunderous. “You’ve gotten stronger, you know that?”

“Huh? … What?”

“I said. Your howling has gotten stronger.” 

“No, it didn’t. Bastard.” 

“I’m in the middle of a meeting right now. Talk to you later.” 

Though the phone call was cut short, it made you feel much better. Instead of hogging him on, you decided to leave him a text message, saying, “Thanks for making my tears disappear.” It was that corny line again, that he couldn’t help but grin upon reading. 

“Hangout this weekend?” He replied.

Saturday of that week 

Jaehyun offered to pick you up at your place. 

“Hey.” 

It still hadn’t completely sunk in that how much you’d matured in the last few years. Medium height, you had long dark hair, which you’d forego your full bangs, soft romantic curls looked shiny and healthy, as did your skin. He could tell from the way your outfit moved along with your body that you had a woman’s figure with lots of curves. 

“It’s been awhile,” you started. 

Staring at you too much would be creepy though, awkwardly he put his hand up with a smile, he ushered you into the passenger seat and got behind the wheel of his car and drove off. 

“Broke up again?” 

“I’m okay. It’s not the first time for me.” 

He glanced over at you a time or two, perhaps worried, but you didn’t seem to be mad or crying. As he was about to speak, your cell phone’s high-pitched ringtone crashed into the conversation, shattering the moment in an instant. 

Incoming call: Jerk

“It’s him- He’s calling! Should I pick up? Should I?” 

“If you want to-” Once again he got interrupted as he was trying to talk some sense into you.

“Hello?” “What is it?” “Didn’t we break up already? Why are you still calling me?” ”You’re freaking weird. Why are you apologizing all of a sudden?” 

During your phone conversation, Jaehyun cast a rather wary glance at you before dragging his eyes back to the road. 

“Alright… I’m not mad anymore…” 

Upon listening to whatever you’re saying, though piece by piece, it sounded like you’re back together and things would be great again. After all, it was just the typical bickering between a couple. 

With a final assurance to your not-an-‘ex’-anymore that all was well and you really weren’t mad anymore, the call ended. Just as if reading your mind, Jaehyun shook his head in disbelief while you only grin at him sheepishly. At least the rest of the hangout could be enjoyed with none of pouting and sulking, you thought. 

Another six months

Jaehyun’s phone alerted him to a text, it was frank 

I’m getting engaged soon

Will hand over the invitation card when we meet next time

Two sentences of such simple words—as something bound to be, and bound to happen. Yet it left an impact on him. He swallowed to alleviate the tightening in his throat, but the feeling followed him, peaking and then fading, falling as petals fluttering from a dying bloom. For a second prior, he was really, truly happy for you. 

Somewhere on the other side, you felt a tremendous emotional effect after clicking your phone shut following the message delivered. Something ran over your head, and maddeningly ran through again and again. What was wrong? 

In a disoriented state of mind, you began rummaging through drawers and cabinets until you found the box you wanted. You pulled it out and opened it, revealing a stack of picture squares, a two carrot ring, and finally a limited edition Hamburglar figurine that both you and Jaehyun were lucky enough to redeem. The set of eyes stared dumbly at you as you silently gazed at the little thing that managed to hold such fond memories. 

Meanwhile, Jaehyun had always had the figurine with him, laid on his workstation somewhere visible so that he continued to be reminded by it. Too, he was fixated on the pair of acrylic painted eyes in remembrance of the past. 

The day before 30th 

Jaehyun had been waiting for you inside a cafe situated a block from the deadly intersection, sipping on a glass of iced latte, though the weather was nothing sort of a torrid summer. 

Upon agreeing to the meet up, he had sorted everything out in his mind and promised himself to confront you with a good-natured congratulation on your marriage none other than a dear friend should. 

Less than ten minutes later, you appeared on the other side of the glass, waving and smiling brightly. Pitter-patter of the rain drops hitting your umbrella steadily intensify as did something else… 

“Hi,” he greeted with a dimpled grin, and then wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, a smear of coffee on his chin when you snatched up his glass and took a long swallow. Again, he said nothing about your behavior that he had gotten used to, only glaring at you with the ever same expression of This girl! She’ll be the death of me. 

“Invitation card,” he said, reminding you what all this was about in the first place. 

But so nonchalantly, you uttered, “We broke up.” 

Your eyes caught the slight lift in the right corner of his lips, Jaehyun unable to stop a small smile from making it onto his face. Simultaneously, his brows raised in surprise. 

“You didn’t cry?”

Almost proud of yourself, “No.” 

“Lies.”

“Really,” you continued with the realization of the fact that, “Liking and loving someone is different.” 

Jaehyun convinced himself, to the bone, that you’re okay. Assimilating that you’d indeed matured to understand how relationship works instead of diving in blindly on the spur of the moment by acting upon emotional states like a teenage girl in love. Emotion comes and goes, rises and falls. Certainly, love doesn’t last forever. But the foundation of love is commitment, and he wished you’d learned that as well because… 

“Do you remember what day it is tomorrow?” your calm voice interrupted his chain of thoughts, as you stared at him in anticipation. 

“Of course I do. It’s your 30th birthday tomorrow.” 

Grinning and beaming with unbridled glee, for once you bet on your bold self saying that, “So, you still remembered our promise then.” 

As if he had been waiting for years, thought he was ready, but was somewhat embarrassed and gave you a warm, shy smile. The once dying bloom came back to life, thriving, lush and flourishing. The pent up feeling on that one, great heart, burst forth in an uncontrollable, deafening shout. 

“Tell me,” you coaxed his trigger to give his word of honour. 

“If you’re still single at thirty…” Nervously, he gulped and avoiding your intent eyes. “I’ll have to marry you.”

“You must keep your promise, Jung Jaehyun.” 

#nct scenarios #nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct fluff #nct angst #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst

[stvrgrs-archive]

Part 1/3 of my gift to @ishipallthings as part of the @3490fest 

(part 2, part 3)

For the prompt: Steve is asked to do a painting for a charity auction. He’s stuck on what to paint until Tasha offers to be  his model in the Iron Woman armour. It’s a great idea, if it weren’t for the fact that he has feelings for his best friend, and spending weeks painting her doesn’t help. Once the painting is finished, Steve realises how obvious his feelings are and panics. Mutual pining and ending in getting together.

Hope it’s what you wanted!

2.2k, on Ao3

Pour Your Heart Out, I’ll Keep It Safe

Steve looks up from his tablet when he hears Natasha shuffle into the kitchen, resurfacing from the workshop for a quick caffeine top up.  She’s dressed in her usual workshop-binge attire: stained tank top and sweatpants, hair falling out of its bun. There’s grease staining her hands and arms and – well, everywhere, and Steve’s not sure he should find that as attractive as he does.

“Catchin’ flies there, Cap.”

He snaps out of his reverie and looks up to see Natasha grinning down at him, coffee clutched between both hands. He blushes and busies himself with getting back to his tablet as she collapses onto the sofa next to him and peers over his shoulder.

“What’s that?”

“The Brooklyn Arts Council asked me to do a painting for a charity auction they’re holding in a few months. It’s for a good cause,” he adds at Natasha’s teasing look.  

She just shakes her head fondly, “Always the Boy Scout, Rogers.”

She shuffles closer to flip through his various ideas and Steve has to force himself not to squirm. This close he can smell the workshop and coffee and the perfume she’s wearing and it’s all just so Natasha it makes him kind of dizzy.  

Once again, she breaks him out of his thoughts.

“So, mon Capitaine, what were you thinking of?”

Steve gives her a blank look, still distracted by her perfume.

“Of painting. For the auction?”

Oh, right.

Steve glances back at some of the rough ideas he’d been sketching but none of it felt right.  

He knew he could probably paint a few Stars and Stripes and it’d still sell, as long as it has his signature at the bottom, but he’s never been known for doing things by halves and this will be no different.

He shrugs.  

“I don’t know; haven’t got much inspiration yet.”

He gazes down at Natasha as she considers the sketches in front of him and has to resist the urge to reach out and pull her into his lap.

Then something starts to shine in her eyes and she grins, Cheshire Cat like.  

“What about me?”

Steve’s not stupid, he knows what she’s suggesting. Truthfully he’d been thinking about it for a while, but his brain stutters at the actual possibility so all he can respond with is a wonderfully articulate “huh?”

“Me, paint me in the Iron Woman armour. Come on, Steve, we both know that’s basically a modern day Mona Lisa! What better muse could you want?”

Steve tries to settle the butterflies in his stomach at the prospect.

What better indeed.

The following afternoon Steve’s getting everything ready when Natasha comes clunking through the door, the armour proud and shining.

“Your muse has arrived,” she announces, mock bowing and grinning up at him, “you going to paint me like one of your French girls?”

He manages to stifle his smile enough to reply, “I understood that reference.”

He quickly finishes setting everything up and turns around to arrange Natasha’s pose.

“So, uh, I was thinking you could stand in front of the windows and- here.”

He grips the waist of the armour and moves Natasha so her body is angled slightly away from the floor to ceiling windows and he stands back to check. Then he moves in again, hesitant and nervous.

“If you could just tilt your head-”

He steals himself as much as he can and raises his hand to gently angle her head up and looking slightly away.

It’s only when their eyes meet that he realises how little space is between them, the sound of her quiet breathing all he can hear and she moves her head so she’s looking up at him, a small smile teasing her lips.

They stand like that, entranced, for a few seconds or hours, Steve’s honestly not sure and the spell is only broken when Natasha remarks

“You’ve a crack in your ceiling.”

The comment takes him by surprise and he stands there a moment more, frozen and reluctant, until he shakes his head and steps back.

“Well, who built this tower, Stark?”

Moment over, he ignores the catch in his breath and the pit in his stomach.

Natasha gives him a shocked look as he sits down.

“Rogers, you know I just designed this tower, I’d never have such sloppy workmanship.”

He smiles to himself as he starts examining the paints in front of him.

“Whatever you say, Natasha.”

Neither of them mention that his art studio was later added onto the apartment as an extremely extravagant birthday gift and that Natasha did, in fact, help out with the construction.

They don’t meet for nearly another two weeks. With Natasha off at a business meeting and Steve running ops for SHIELD, their schedules rarely match up, something Steve knows he probably should have thought of since the auction is in just over a month. He thinks about mentioning it to Natasha but he can’t bring himself to give up the time with her.  

He’ll make the deadline, he’s sure of it.

*****

“Steve, maybe-”

“I’m fine, Natasha, please stay still.”

Alright, he concedes to himself, maybe he won’t make the deadline.

It’s currently 1:17am the night before the auction and he still isn’t finished. Natasha’s had JARVIS simulating a sunny summer’s afternoon light since four in the afternoon and Steve hasn’t moved since then either.  

Damn him and his crush.

Steve has to admit, as much as he’s stressed right now, he still wouldn’t trade the past six weeks they’ve spent together for anything.

After the first few days, they fell into the routine of Natasha meeting Steve in the studio with coffee in the morning and working until the late afternoon once the sun had started its journey back below the horizon.  

Then they’d go out together. Steve tried not to call them dates in his head.

The first time, they’d gone out to the MOMA (“for inspiration,” as Natasha had insisted). After that, their trips became less and less related to the auction and, Steve had noticed with not a little excitement, more and more like pseudo dates.  

And throughout the whole thing Steve convinced himself he’d get it finished, until he ended up less than 17 hours before the auction with the damn thing still most decidedly not finished.

“Steve, seriously, go to bed and finish it in the morning.”

Natasha shakes her head at him and moves to walk over to where he’s  sitting, hunched over.

“Natasha, you go to bed, I can have JARVIS project your image, really.”

She just sighs and stays where she is.

Almost four hours later, Steve slumps back in his chair and rubs his eyes, groaning.

“Fucking finally,” Natasha yawns and rolls her shoulders, stumbling over to him even despite the armour.

“Wait!”  

Steve shoots up and hurries in front of Natasha.

“I want it to be a surprise,” he explains.

She looks up at him, unimpressed.

“But it’s me,” she argues, pouting. “Besides, when else am I gonna get to see it? It’s being auctioned off tomorrow.”

“All the pieces are being displayed beforehand, you’ll see it then.”

She gives him the side eye and just shrugs when he doesn’t budge.

“Alright then, suit yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow, Steve.”

She’s turning to go when Steve blurts

“Wait, do you want to stay here?”

She turns back to face him, seemingly confused and surprised. Steve tries not to blush.

“You just- you seem tired. Instead of going down to your floor.”

The edge of her mouth quirks.

“All I’ve been doing all day is standing around.”

Steve smiles at her, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, I owe you.”

She ends up passed out in his bed curled up next to him after pulling him down with her as she collapsed onto the duvet. Steve falls asleep content and imagining having this, having her, like this all the time.  

In the morning, Steve agrees to meet Natasha at five to drive to the auction and she leaves to start catching up on work until then.

He goes into the studio to get the painting ready for whoever will be collecting it and when he goes to take it off the canvas, he stops. And examines the painting. And feels the beginings of panic clutch at him.

Fuck, he didn’t think this through.

*****

The limo pulls up outside the showing and they’re greeted by the usual mass of reporters and flashing lights. Once inside, a server offers them champagne and laughably tiny portions of food and they walk around the gallery together.

Steve’s stomach ties itself in knots until they come to his.

He watches Natasha’s face carefully as she looks at the canvas.

It’s not big, about 15” by 30”, but he knows that doesn’t matter.

The painting ended up being from the waist up, the armour shining and the reactor sitting proudly in the centre. Her face is tilted up as she seems to soar towards a clear blue sky that fades to a sparkling galaxy.  

He thinks back to this morning, finally looking at the finished painting with a mind that wasn’t so sleep deprived. Natasha Stark, immortalised in oil on canvas. He remembers realising with more than a little horror that it’s so obvious, that people will know. Worse, that Natasha will know.  

It was undeniable in each careful stroke of the brush, almost reverent, as he’d accidentally poured his heart out on canvas.

Natasha looks up at him, seemingly shocked.

“It’s great, Steve, it’s really-“ she pauses as she swallows and turns back to the painting. “Amazing.”

Steve gives her a small smile in return, smothering the fluttering in his stomach.

He opens his mouth to tell her, just tell her, you idiot when she continues.

“Why’s it called Confession?”

He swallows and rubs his palms against his suit trousers, probably more nervous than is warranted. He opens his mouth to tell her when a man comes around to tell them that the auction is starting and to start getting seated.

He closes his mouth and holds his arm out for her to take.

“I’ll tell you later.”

The auction seems to go well. Steve makes note of some of the artists to compliment after.

Finally his own painting gets placed carefully on the canvas under bright lights.

“And last, but not least, we have Brooklyn’s own, Steven Rogers, who so generously donated this original piece, titled Confession.”

The offers start increasing so quickly it makes Steve kind of dizzy. At one point he turns to Natasha to comment on it, to tell her she has to take some credit, to just tell her, you idiot but she’s staring up at the painting. She seems almost transfixed, studying it and Steve sees the moment a switch flicks and he knows she’s figured it out. He just about to say something, ask to talk to her outside maybe, when she shouts

“$50 million!”

The room falls almost deadly silent and everyone turns to stare. Steve feels his cheeks heat and shifts uncomfortably. Well, then. Talk about grand gestures.

The drive back to the tower is silence, Steve afraid he’s somehow upset Natasha.

The limo drops them off at the front doors and they cross the lobby, their footsteps echoing. They get on the elevator and just as the doors slide shut, he gathers his courage again and turns to Natasha.

“Natasha-”

“Were you going to tell me?”

He hesitates before rushing on hastily at Natasha’s raised eyebrow.

“I was! Tonight; I tried before when we were looking at the painting, but then we had to go in and then during the auction but you, y’know, bought it and- just now,” he finishes weakly.

She shakes her head and opens her mouth to respond but Steve barrels on, determined to finish now that he’s begun.

“I didn’t know how to tell you and then I talked to Sharon this morning and she called me an idiot-”

Natasha snorts and Steve smiles.

“-and told me to just tell you, that I might be surprised.”

Natasha moves closer to him and as he meets her eyes he thinks back to the beginning of all this, when they stood in the same position, both with the same desires.

“So what are you telling me, Steve?”

“Natasha Stark,” he licks his lips nervously, “W-”

He never gets to finish as Natasha surges forward, pressing them together and tugging him out when the elevator doors open.

They stumble and land sprawled on her sofa, staring at each other and breathless.

“You’re such an idiot,” Natasha laughs.

“You didn’t ask me either!”

She just continues to laugh and presses her forehead against his.

“I took you to all the classic date places, babe. Hell, we even went bowling. It’s not my fault you never realised;  now you have to come up with something new for our first date.”

“How about dinner and a movie? We never did that and there’s this Italian-”

She laughs and punches his chest lightly.

“You’re such a sap.”

“Well?”

She lays down half on top of him and rests her head on his chest, silent for a few moments until she responds quietly

“Dinner would be great.”

#ishipallthings #3490fest #marvel #stony #stevetony #natasha stark #mine

[lydia-can-live]

Nopelander...revisting an old post

I still see sooo much Outlander stuff on my dash so I thought I’d share my thoughts on Season 4. I don’t have high hopes for S5 and even though I said I was done, I am still curious. Hanging around to see how it turns out is different than being a die hard fan, which I was. Its amazing to me that the built-in fan base and super hot chemistry between the 2 leads could fizzle out to a boring, flat, emotionless promotion. The Fiery Cross is very focused on Roger and Brianna (with Jamie and Claire always watching an guiding which is a gift for those who crave a stable family life...and is too subtle and nuanced for these OL writers to grasp) so the magic of the show that was Jamie and Claire is no more.  Here is what I had to say about the S4 finale.  tl:dr OL used to be great, and instead of writing it as the romance-fantasy that it is, they subscribed to the theory that drama and plot are more interesting than nuanced intimacy and in doing so drained it of its charm and energy while at the same time bashed fans for not being happy about it.

Production ruined the magic that was Outlander in such a stumbling, amateurish, way. First off, they do not understand Jamie and Claire, who are soul mates, as well as best friends. They love making each other laugh and share many inside jokes. They know life is hard but as long as they can connect with each other, they’ll get through anything. In the show their relationship is tenuous and they never realistically comfort one another. Touching each other’s jaw line in lieu of good dialogue is just irritating. 2nd, the wigs take you out of the story, immediately. Why did that not concern anyone? Sam Heughan is a gorgeous man but I snort every time we see that alpaca hair. The only time I can take him seriously is when he is wearing a tri-corn. Claire’s hair looks passable from far away but up close it’s like, holy hairline! It really bothers me that this was not important to production. Jamie had shaggy hair in S1 because he was growing out a buzz cut he got at the Abbey, not because he liked having fringe. If they are trying to recreate S1 hair they have failed spectacularly.

Season Finale: Rescuing Dog Face. I want to care, but I don’t. Roger and Bree do not have an established or believable relationship. He showed up with his Paul McCartney hair in Boston and the writers decided he loved her and that’s all it’s based on. There is no chemistry between them but there isn’t any conversation, either. She is apathetic. We’ll never know how Sophie would deliver well written dialogue but with her somnolent, emotionless, delivery my guess is it wouldn’t have helped. Maybe they limited her dialogue because she couldn’t manage more than a few words at a time. Imagine the stirring ‘He’s real…I know’ or the riveting ‘You’re here’ with a modicum of energy. I know, it’s just as bad. She was miscast, obviously. They couldn’t have found a tall, American actress with dual UK/USA citizenship with an Equity card? Hey Bree: In the show, Roger humiliated then abandoned you at the Clan gathering because you didn’t want to marry him. He then had a relationship with you --in his mind--, while you were living on your own and trying to keep your eyes from closing while you talked.  Why do you love him? Back to Roger. A group of people are going against their own tribe to rescue Dog Face and risk alienation from said tribe just to get a stone they could have just taken from Claire? Come on. The tribe had sentries posted when Jamie and Claire were approaching but everyone had the night off to gather around for the drumming circle? The one guy watching the idiot tent gets clubbed (is he dead? We don’t know) by Jamie and no one notices? Finally the jig is up and the resulting scramble to “reach the river” is so laughably amateurish that I imagined the camera guy laughing like you do when you’re filming your friends in the backyard trying to recreate the Aragorn/Nazgul fight scene from the LOTR. Thankfully, Claire was there to bring a sensible end to it all with a very effective “Its ovah”. Even the Mohawk warriors were impressed. So did they all sleep in the idiot tent that night, or what? And Roger isn’t totally amazed looking at Claire and Jamie, together? No? He just cowers in her clutches. At least he’s not wearing those absolutely ridiculous but completely historically accurate culottes anymore. The Birth: Everyone complaining about this is correct. Claire would never have allowed her daughter to go through child birth in the 18th century without her. I don’t understand why the writers made this decision. That whole birthing chair thing was cringe worthy. Jocasta and her hand-made silk dress isn’t going to be assisting at a freaking birth. (I just kept seeing a thought bubble above Sophie that said “I should have stuck to dance”. I don’t think she’s enjoying Outlander that much.) In the book, while Bree is asking Jamie to stay for the birth, he pleadingly looks to Claire like ‘what do I do’ because, while he’s heard a lot of birthing going on, he’s never been asked to assist. It shows their complete unison as a team, their trust in each other, and it’s cute to see Jamie out of his element a little. More importantly, Jamie got to experience his grandchild with his heart burst wide open and he reveled in it. The dialogue in the book is touching and funny and it resonates because its tied to emotions that have long been been building. Jemmy is the catalyst for healing many of Jamie’s wounds regarding his children. He is the balm for his soul. In the show, Jamie barely acknowledges the baby. But here, blind Auntie --who in the show uses a cane-- you take the baby. Don’t hurt him with the giant brooch thing you are wearing. And don’t walk anywhere. Just stand there. Don’t you go dyin’ on me! Here’s the other thing: Bree loves her baby from the start. She makes that decision early on. When Jemmy is born she is completely devoted to him and his care. She wouldn’t be sitting in a room by herself while her baby is hanging with a bunch of people who seem to be just standing around in a circle.

Back to the book for a second: When Roger finally shows up, Bree is not broken. She’s besotted with her son and enjoying the loving embrace of her family. She’s whole. I like that Bree. She’s got a good heart. As much as I miss the humor between Jamie and Claire, I didn’t want to hear Sam call Claire “Granny” unless it was with a twinkle in his eye after he comes to the realization that this is the first time she’ll be called that, and it’s the first time he gets to say it. I hate book dialogue spoken with no depth or understanding of the moment. Intimacy is what DG gets so right in the books and I don’t like hearing actual lines unless it carries some weight, I’m looking at you “Turtle Soup” (cringe). Murtagh: When he jumped off that wagon I was like…Duncan LaCroix is just loving the shit out of this. I don’t like the Regulator plot because they are shit stirrers who like to argue and ruin gatherings. Murtagh should be sticking to his vow, which was to protect Jamie. These are 18th century people, they took that shit seriously. The fight with Jocasta was hilarious but when she said ‘let’s get breakfast’ and they pan over to Murtagh and he’s all laid out on the bed like ‘here’s your freakin’ breakfast, with sausage’ I laughed so hard I had to pause it, drink some water and pull myself together. I was dying. It wasn’t as funny the second time because I knew it was coming but the first time it was like I could see Duncan turning up that sexy vibe to 11 and it was both funny and ridiculous, and he knew it. Rogers Choice: They should have made Roger a man of worth by having him immediately want to go to Bree. If you freaking love her so much it wouldn’t be an issue. What is she going to do, choose Bonnet over you? It should have been with no hesitation. It would have redeemed him, gave the search and rescue a satisfying conclusion, and saved us from yet another use of the two lovers running toward each other imagery.  The music was so cliché I have to wonder if Bear is just picking stuff off a spotify muzak playlist. It’s clear that the show has lapsed into soap opera territory. Sam’s face when he said he had to –takes off glasses-- kill Murtagh wasn’t full on Drake Ramoray, but it was teetering close to it. Poor Outlander. You had the rare combination of chemistry, beauty, and talent combined with an eager and knowledgeable fan base and you reduced it to a strange wooden version of itself. Dedicated fans are leaving. I’m done. These writers are not smart or creative enough to chisel down The Fiery Cross. So much times passes during the gathering that surely Jamie will have outgrown his bangs, but of course he won’t. He just keeps hacking at them and I don’t want to stick around to watch.

Post Scriptum: Drinking game idea: Anytime anyone says Fraser’s Ridge. I mean, who talks like that? You’d say, ‘lets go home’. No one spouts the address when they reference home. ‘Where are you going?’ ‘123 State Street, where I live’. 

Post, post Scriptum: You could also have a drinking game for every time Claire crosses her arms but you’d better have plenty of libations on hand. post post post scriptum: Sam and Cait are tired of Outlander and can’t wait for it to be over.

[metalandmagi]

December End of the Year Media Madness!

It’s a new month and a new year! And what a crazy month it was what with Tumblr imploding and all. But I’ll still throw this on here just because I’ll be on this site until it literally boots me out. But I do have a twitter now…@metalandmagi where I’m also barely active at all.

Anyway, why make top 10 lists for the entire year when I can just ramble about all the media I consumed this month? There’s only a marginal amount of holiday things on here by my standards!

November media

Movies!

Give me some credit there’s only four Christmas movies on here.

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?: A documentary about Mr. Rogers starting with the birth of the television show to his death. This is the fluffiest most heartwarming thing I could have possibly picked to watch on Christmas, and I encourage everyone, even people who hate documentaries and/or never grew up with Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, to watch it. There’s a lot of important messages about acceptance, dealing with tragedy, and mental health that people can learn from and feel good about. Not to mention how he completely revolutionized children’s television. So yeah, he was awesome.10/10

Spider-man Into the Spider-verse: When a rip between dimensions is opened, a bunch of different spider themed superheroes from every comic fan’s wet dreams all get together to close it. Guys I’m not that big of a Spider-man fan, but dang this movie was a ton of fun. I came for the amazing visual effects and stayed for the amazing...everything else. The music, the performances, and the story were all top notch. Also I now have a new favorite Nick Cage role. If you thought the trailer made the animation look interesting, it was just the tip of the iceberg because it is the most visually interesting movie I’ve seen in the last three years. I strongly suggest any fan of animation...or even any fan of great stories and movies in general go see it even if you’re not that big on Spider-Man. Now I’m demanding a Spider-verse Aunt May movie because I have so many questions! And the post credits scene was the best out of any Marvel movie. Period. 10,000/10

The Wiz (2015 musical): I should start making a section for musicals or plays instead of just lumping it in with the movies. It’s the Wizard of Oz...but cool. I’ve never seen any iteration of The Wiz and it seems like I’m constantly hearing about it. So I watched the 2015 version of the 1975 Broadway musical that NBC aired. And yeah it’s good. There were some great performances. But I wasn’t very impressed with the songs themselves, and it’s not really the same without a dog along for the ride, but whatever. 7.5/10

Jumanji Welcome to the Jungle: The surprisingly fun reboot/sequel thing of Jumanji where four teenagers get stuck in a video game that follows every “stuck in a video game” trope you can imagine but actually does it well. It’s a sweet, funny romp through the jungle with some great comedic performances. I really don’t have much to say about it except that this movie is better than it has any right to be. 8/10

The Christmas Chronicles: Two children stow away on Kurt Russell’s, I mean Santa’s sleigh and go on a dangerous, balls to the wall adventure throughout Chicago trying to save Christmas or something. After everyone started talking about how crazy this Netflix movie is I had to watch it to verify if it is indeed as wild as they said. And yes...yes it is. It is so laughably ridiculous and questionable that it’s impossible to actually hate. The elves are some unholy mixture of minions and gremlins, one of the children is a literal felon that no one is concerned about, and Kurt Russell is super into the role but has some sort of thing about fat-shaming Santa. I just...have so many questions! But it was certainly a trip, so I’d have to recommend it just so you too can witness the insanity. -10 “savvy, straight-talking St. Nicks”/10

Arthur Christmas: No, it’s not a Christmas special related to the aardvark cartoon! This is the 2011 animated movie that no one remembers exists. Santa’s clumsy but enthusiastic son Arthur must deliver a forgotten present in less than two hours while the rest of his family deals with some Arrested Development style family drama. This is by far the most underrated Christmas movie of all time; even I didn’t realize it was actually good until I watched it for the first time in 2016! The fun road-trip style plot and the entertaining characters were victims of bad marketing. Arthur is hilariously endearing, and there was so much heart and effort put into it that I can find new things to notice every time I watch it. Not to mention the amazingly animated opening spy sequence! And also Mrs. Claus is secretly a total badass and Bryony the elf is the coolest female character in a Christmas movie ever. The movie’s message of old vs new is nothing we haven’t seen before, but I really don’t care because at the heart of it all, it’s about making people happy on Christmas. If you’re like me and just assumed this movie would suck...or didn’t know it exists, please give it a chance. It’s not perfect, but it’s worth seeing. 9/10

Neo Yokio Pink Christmas: Yes, it’s the Christmas special for Neo Yokio. No I cannot accurately describe it with mere words. There’s a rich bachelor gift exchange, demon possession, and pompous French aunts slinging insults at each other. It is unironically my favorite holiday episode of a show ever, and to me it’s the best Christmas special ever made. I thought I was prepared for the absolute bat-shit ride I would go on, but no...I wasn’t even close. At this point I don’t know if it’s written like this on purpose or if some divine twist of fate made the executives believe this is truly brilliant television. Either way, it is a masterpiece in its own right. There’s even a somewhat intriguing plot and a message about gift giving and capitalism under all the crazy! If you haven’t jumped down the rabbit hole yet, I implore you to watch the insanity that is Neo Yokio and follow it up with Pink Christmas because it will truly make your holiday season. 100,000 demon DNA drugs out of 100,000!

Die Hard: Nothing says Christmas like terrorists taking over a skyscraper and Bruce Willis having to take them all down by himself. Yeah...so I’ve never seen Die Hard before, but this is one of those movies that is so famous that I felt like I’d already absorbed everything important through cultural osmosis. And even though it’s pretty good, I would have liked it better if I didn’t know what was going to happen. My only real complaint is that I think it goes on way too long. More than anything it just made me sad to remember that Alan Rickman is gone. And it bothers me so much that John McClane goes through this building that’s under construction WITHOUT SHOES! 8/10

Books!

The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis: The 4th/6th book in the Chronicles of Narnia, in which Eustace Scrubb and his classmate Jill Pole go to the underworld to find King Caspian’s long lost son. Even though my children- the Pevensies aren’t in it, I actually think this book is my favorite of the series so far. Jill and Eustace are both sassy enough to play off each other, Puddleglum absolutely hilarious, and the book actually has a clear cut plot! It reads much more like a Greek myth than a children’s fairy tale since there aren’t nearly as many of Lewis’s trademark author interjections, and you know...it’s a literal journey to the underworld. And can I just say that it’s super refreshing to have an author write two main characters WITH ZERO ROMANTIC INTENTIONS! Especially since they’re freaking children! Now I just wish Disney had continued the movies even more! 9/10

Queen of Air and Darkness by Cassandra Clare: I’m going to do this with only minor spoilers. It’s the final book in The Dark Artifices trilogy. Will Emma and Julian break the parabatai bond? Will the reflection of the modern day American government- I mean the Cohort/ the Clave fuck up the relationships between Shadowhunters and Downworlders forever? You’ll have to suffer like the rest of us to find out! In my opinion, 99% of this book is amazing, but in the last 50 pages there are some...bullshit ways of solving problems. Like everything that went down with the Cohort in Idris. Not to mention we’ve been so invested in the parabatai curse and how Julian and Emma’s bond would go down and...let’s just say the resolution was way too easy. And if you thought Clare’s other finales were jam packed, you ain't seen nothin’ yet. My copy is 880 pages and there was still more stuff that I wanted to happen...like any sort of scene between Dru and Ash...or an ending between Kit and Ty that doesn’t make me want to cry (the Wicked Powers is going to be brutal). But the rest of that 99% is mind-blowing! There’s so much good I can say that it mostly outranks anything I didn’t like...I mean we finally got a Malec wedding and a proper polyamorous relationship for the Angel’s sake! It may be my least favorite of her finales by default but it was still a fun ride! 9/10

TV shows!

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018): An elite soldier finds a sword that can transform her into a super buff magical girl who helps princesses take down the forces of evil. It’s a reboot of the 1980s cartoon, and holy crap it’s AMAZING! I have a whole new group of children to adopt, each episode is entertaining in its own way, and there’s so...many...good...ships! And it gives Steven Universe a run for its money with the care that went into making every character a different kind of warrior, which I love because the cast is 99% female. My only real complaint is that I never warmed up to Catra because she wasn’t particularly sympathetic to me from the beginning. But I understand why some people love her. If you love well crafted adventurous character driven cartoons and haven’t watched it yet WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?  10/10

Nailed It Holiday: Yes, my favorite baking show (and by that I mean the only baking show I watch) has a holiday season out on Netflix, in which newbie bakers are tasked with making incredibly professional desserts with a very short time limit. And whoever makes the best treat gets 10,000 dollars. I’ve talked about this show before in my June media madness, and I don’t know what it is but I’m so addicted to it. 10/10

Brooklyn nine-nine (season 5): Come on we all know the cop sitcom. It’s the best sitcom. Just in general it’s the best. Great characters that subvert expectations, great humor, and a lot of heart. I’ve known that this show is supposed to be amazing for years, but I only started watching it a few months ago. And since I couldn’t find season 5 anywhere...I got a Hulu subscription just to watch it before season 6 comes out. That’s how good this show is. 10/10

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (season 2): Our favorite underdog comedian is back, and she’s slowly gaining popularity and doing...stuff. Like going on tour. And hanging out with Zachary Levi. Yes, this season is great, but my problem with this series is that every character aside from Midge and Susie are the fucking worst, especially the parents. Midge’s parents suck, Joel’s parents suck, Midge and Joel are appropriately neglectful parents for the time period...I could go on. And it’s not even in a funny way; like it’s just disgusting to watch these power dynamics. Not to mention how old the comedic bits for the parents get (how many times can we hear about Joel needing to date or Midge needing to get married?!) Yes, I realize that we’re supposed to be annoyed AND YES I realize that this is a product of culture and how society was, but none of the parents have any redeeming qualities. In episode one, we’re led to believe that Midge’s parents will grow and change through the season and they never do! At least there are moments where Joel can kind of be redeeming and expand on his actual character before he reverts back to being an asshole. Anyway, my thoughts are pretty much the same as the first season. It’s funny and interesting to watch, but it can be ridiculously frustrating when you hate almost all the characters!  8/10

Fuller House (season 4): Yes I do watch the ridiculous Netflix reboot of Full House. And yes, it is absolutely terrible! I really really hate it! But will I stop watching it? Let’s just say you can pry this pile of garbage from my cold dead hands. I don’t know if I’d call this a guilty pleasure or a hate watch type of show... it’s certainly not so bad it’s good territory like Neo Yokio...but Full House was pretty much my entire childhood. And yes, the original show is also not great. I loved it as a kid, and it was my first real exposure to a non-traditional family in live action, but yeah it doesn’t age well. What I’m trying to say is...I have no good reason for watching this.

I don’t mean to say that there’s nothing good about it, especially this season. They really back off on the more cringe-worthy catch phrases, Stephanie being aware of how stupid the writing is and constantly pointing it out is actually funny, their Christmas episode was surprisingly genuine, and they impressed me by actually make two female characters try and work through their difficulties instead of pitting them against each other for laughs. It has its moments, just like the original but definitely not enough to make up for the worst of it. Maybe this generation of children will like it the way lots of my generation used to like Full House...but yeah it’s awful, I hate it so much. -1 missing Tanner child out of 3

Voltron Legendary Defender (season 8) SPOILERS: It’s the final season of Netflix’s Voltron, and boy it was...something. I didn’t want to make this a big rant/defense of the show...but I feel like I have to highlight some things because this fandom is a shithole that refuses to see the good in anything.

There is so much good and so much...not good I can say about it, so here’s a couple things. I know this show didn’t go the direction anyone wanted, but that doesn’t make it bad. In addition to the stunning fight scenes and music, the performances this season were just amazing! I literally wanted to cry every other episode even though sometimes I didn’t know why the fuck something was happening. I don’t know how I feel about Honerva’s plan. I understand her motivation, but I was constantly questioning how we got from point A to point B... so yeah the plot and writing could be...weird at times. Also everyone seemed to have super pointy chins this season...

Spoiler alert: Not many of us wanted Lance and Allura to happen, but I truly believe it wasn’t done in a half assed way. At the very least, I appreciate that they had a genuine bond that developed over so many seasons. BECAUSE YES IT DID! Anyone who says they had no development or that it felt forced never paid attention. I wanted it to stay platonic; I wanted Klance to happen, but...I can’t be too mad at the writers because they at least tried. I still believe that Klance was endgame and the creators were forced to change the outcome of the show later on. AND YES LANCE DID GET A CHARACTER ARC! It may not have been the one we wanted to see, but I’m baffled that people think Lance living with his family, surrounded by people he loves-which is what he wanted all along- is not a happy ending. I just wish his relationship with Keith wasn’t pretty much ignored all season. But I believe Allura is his past that taught him to genuinely love and Keith is his future who will make Lance his “first choice”. And I’m not even gonna try to explain how I feel about Shiro and Allura’s endings because everything I feel is so complicated and layered. There is good and there is bad.

TLDR: This show teaches us that we’re stronger together, and I think the “fandom” completely missed the point because they do nothing but tear others down and refuse to look at things from other perspectives. YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO NOT LIKE IT, BUT YOU DON’T HAVE THE RIGHT TO TAKE AWAY OTHER PEOPLE’S ENJOYMENT AND BE A DICK ABOUT IT. It may not have been everything I wanted, but I’m glad I went on this ride. Besides, there are canonically infinite realities so there’s got to be a reality where all your dreams for the show come true. As a season, I’d say it’s a 7.5/10.

Honorable Mentions

I watched Avengers: Infinity War again. And yes it’s still great.

I’m watching Superstore because when another sitcom comes on before The Good Place, why not? Also since I finished season 5 of Brooklyn 99 I had to use my Hulu subscription for something.

Camp Camp has a holiday episode...so naturally I watched it...several times. Please watch Camp Camp.

Hellsing Ultimate Abridged finally ended, and I feel obligated to shout this out because, hey when you put out one episode a year it’s a big accomplishment to finish it!

Super Smash Bros Ultimate is finally here!!!!!!!!!!!

ALL THE WINTER ANIME IS ENDING!!! They were all so amazing! So shout out to Iroduku-The world in colors, Bloom into You, Hinomaru Sumo, Dakaichi, Banana Fish, Jingai no Yomen, Golden Kamuy, Skull-faced Bookseller Honda-san, Tsurune, AND RUN WITH THE WIND even though they’re not finished yet.

#media madness #long post #the wiz #jumanji #neo yokio pink christmas #die hard #into the spider verse #arthur christmas #the christmas chronicles #wont you be my neighbor #Avengers infinity war #The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel #marvel #she ra netflix #she ra and the princesses of power #nailed it #voltron #voltron legendary defender #voltron season 8 #fuller house #brooklyn 99 #superstore #queen of air and darkness #qoaad #the silver chair #the chronicles of narnia

[portfolio-ni-rizza]

Avengers: Endgame [Personal] Review

After 11 years and 21 films, we get the culmination to a cinematic franchise unlike anything we've ever seen before, and it is everything we expected it to be–even the bad ones.

What Avengers: Endgame does well, it does REALLY well. It's hard to imagine, at this point, any other franchise being able to churn out an output of this caliber. On the other hand, what Endgame got wrong, it got VERY wrong. And it's all the more frustrating to think they would never have gotten this right, anyway. Even with its (debatably) best release to date, the MCU still failed at the one thing it never got right: it's female heroes.

(But, to be fair, Marvel perennially disappoints every other character who isn't played by Robert Downey Jr., so no surprise here.)

So let's start with Endgame's biggest, most disgusting, but easily solvable mistake: killing off Black Widow.

To give credit where it's due, the Marvel comics was made at a time when women were still largely seen as less than a person; when their worth only went as far as their ability to hold babies in their wombs and arms. And with the MCU being heavily based on those materials, it's not surprising that the movies carried these oppressive sentiments too.

Even so, the MCU wasn't made in the 40s. Majority of it is set today, for today's audiences. So the fact that it still chose to carry those misogynistic, outdated values is just plain ridiculous. 

And the Black Widow, in all her iteration be it in the comics or movies, is still very much a product of those values. She is very rarely, if at all, portrayed as a person on her own, without being defined by her connections to others–specifically the men around her. In the MCU, this was most obvious in her god-awful portrayal at Whedon's Age of Ultron. She was the classic damsel in distress: just another girlfriend/wife character whose express purpose was to be saved by a man, and be a platform with which to show HIS heroics. Worse, Widow explicitly called herself a "monster" during AoU when she was talking about, of all things, being sterilized.

Umm... what? She thought herself a "monster", not because she kills people in cold blood, topples world organizations, and threatens the peace of nations... but because she can't be a mom?

Yikes.

AoU was already a massive fall from grace for Black Widow, from whom we finally got to see some well-deserved badassery, and definitive lack of sexualization, with The Winter Soldier JUST ONE MOVIE AGO. But what's even worse was that this same trope was covertly exploited again in Endgame with–literally–Black Widow sacrificing herself because Hawkeye has a (dead) family.

It's like, hey girls! If you don't have a family of your own, then feel free to throw yourself off a cliff! 

The MCU and its proliferation of male directors and producers never, ever knew what to do with Black Widow, so I imagine it was with a sigh of relief that they FINALLY got rid of her, the first chance they get. And if you think I'm making this up, guess again: Endgame writers themselves (Stephen McFeely, Christopher Markus) said, and I quote, "Her journey, in our minds, had come to an end if she could get the Avengers back."

That's it. That's the sum of Black Widow's character. She was always just a supporting role. She was never a plot. She was just another plot device. If her male colleagues can do their heroics, then her purpose for existing, in the writers' minds, has been served.

Never mind that Natasha Romanoff had the most character development in the entire franchise. Never mind that she was a direct support to 4 of 5 of the other Original Six, and was literally instrumental in making THEM into the heroes they were (Iron Man's recruitment, the Hulk's pathetic and flimsy lullaby, her partnerships with Hawkeye and Cap).

Maybe it might have been easier to take if she was as discarded as Hawkeye. But Black Widow didn't simply disappear in the mainstream storyline for periods of a time with a convenient explanation: she has always been at the center stage in one form or another. Always in conjunction with another character, sure, but THERE, regardless, which is more than we can say for Hawkeye, who really only appears (extensively) in Avengers movies.

But despite how central Black Widow actually is to the entire MCU, she still gets fridged at the first opportunity. Now that Marvel can safely say it has other females on the Avengers roster, they don’t hesitate to throw Widow under the bus (or off a cliff), and still manage to over-glorify and cloyingly romanticize female martyrdom at the expense of helping her male colleagues along. And she didn’t even get the send-off she deserved (hell, even Gamora had more drama around her death). They mourn her for all of 5 minutes, then she gets a passing mention in Tony’s funeral. Now a point can be argued that Iron Man is a public figure, he deserves a funeral, etc. etc., but think about the people who actually attended. None of them were outsiders. They were all, in one form or another, people in the Avengers immediate circle. There was no press. No cameras and grieving audiences ala Superman’s send-off in BvS. So why couldn't–didn't–they acknowledge Natasha Romanoff?

But it’s not over. Knowing full well that people will be angry at chucking off the MCU’s first real, if laughably flimsy, attempt at diversity, Endgame decides to soothe our ruffled feathers with, no surprise, fan service. The MCU may have killed off one of its most important female characters (both inside and outside the context of the cinematic universe), but fans can have 2 minutes of gIrL POwEr! Watch Captain Marvel zoom across an army of aliens (Where was she the whole time, by the way? Infinity War heavily implied a much important role for her, and they certainly touted her as the “strongest Marvel character” but she was completely useleess for 3/4s of the film… and barely on the last quarter), while the other sTRoNg ladies of the MCU have got her back!

Because 2 minutes is enough to compensate for a decade’s worth of callous disregard, of course.

And while those 2 minutes were certainly awesome and easily one of the highlights of the films, there’s no denying that it was all a blatant, pathetic attempt at pandering to a group Marvel never really much cared for. And those 2 minutes show you precisely what the MCU still is: a movie about boys, made by boys, for boys, who still don’t know how to handle women as people.

As amazing and kick-ass as those 2 minutes had been, they were an aberration in a longline of blatant disregard for female characters, and they could have easily been removed from the film because they contribute very, very little to the Infinity Saga’s narrative. McFeely and Marcus are even the first to admit: they only kept that scene in because it was “too fun”.

And just in case you think I’m just an angry, man-hating femi-nazi at this point, who only cares about fighting for women’s rights insofar as it puts me above men, look how Endgame also treated its male cast. Ant Man was nothing but a fussy, whiny, worrywart who couldn’t do the ONE thing that was supposed to be HIS thing: the quantum realm (guess who made that work? Iron Man!). Captain America was a selfish jerk who potentially messed up the entire MCU as we know it because he can’t get over his first crush (guess who was a selfless, self-sacrificing kid from New York? Iron Man!). The Hulk suddenly, miraculously lost the very essence of his character–his struggle between being Bruce and being the Hulk–with just a few punchlines about how he just decided to get the best of both worlds, as if he never could have possibly thought of that before, as if his struggles and demons never overwhelmed him so much to the point where he literally tried to kill himself (but guess, AGAIN, whose struggles and demons we DID see? Iron Man, of course you silly ninny!). Iron Man was given the VERY BEST of each of these characters, because duh, he’s Iron Man. Never mind that a SHARED cinematic universe wouldn’t have worked without other people to share it. Like the past three Avengers, Endgame is just another Iron Man movie. 

Thank GOD he’s dead.

Finally, FINALLY Iron Man is gone. The overrated, over-powered Golden Boy will darken the Marvel Cinematic Universe no more, and we might finally get a film franchise that DOESN’T unflinchingly throw its characters under the bus for the chance to give its poster boy his 15 seconds of glory. Looking back at how Russos, and the production team behind Endgame, shamelessly claimed that Endgame is the story of Cap, Widow, and everyone who didn’t get their screen time on Infinity War, it is all the more irritating to watch 3 more hours of plot-armored Iron Man “saving the day”.

And that’s the tea for today.

PS: Can we talk about the fact how the ending with Cap literally ruined the entire movie (and universe) because of his messing with the timeline?

#Writing Samples #Movie Review #Review #Avengers Endgame #The Avengers #Marvel #Unbeta'd

[3one3]

The Sequel - 855

Day(bed) Dreams

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“This is the first time I’ve actually sat in here.”

“It’s very nice with the fan.”

“The puppies certainly seem to enjoy napping here. I wonder why they waited for humans to use it before trying it themselves.”

“They like to be near you.”

“I wish Lukas were here.”

“Why did you schedule a playdate for him last night then?”

“Because dumb.”

In honor of Juan’s visit, and because it was really too hot out anyway, Christina postponed her Thursday riding and penciled “lay by the pool” into her schedule in its place. She and Juan made use of the little cabana on the front of the pool shed. There was a huge and comfortable wicker daybed in there with thick canvas cushions, and a ceiling fan that offered even more respite from the temperature than the shading from the sun obviously provided. The side curtains were decorative and remained tied to their posts for maximum fresh air anyway. Both humans and both Toy Fox Terriers had soft baby blue towels to relax on, and the latter snoozed stretched out on their sides for maximum cooling. The humans were right next to each other, with some pillows to recline on.

“I think I’m getting dumber, actually. A side effect of doing nothing but showing and vacationing is developing a serious deficit of other things to even talk about. I have nothing to say that isn’t about horses, horse shows, the Olympics, bikinis, food, or children’s toys. I can’t even read interesting books because I just fall asleep.” Christina inhaled deeply through her nose and let the air out slowly. The first part pushed her chest into the player’s left arm and the second drew it away again, but did blow warm breath on him. She could see it move some hair around. The short sleeve of his adidas logo tee was a little caught up on the towel, so it exposed more bicep than it should. The rider leaned forward just enough to smooch him there.

“You did at least an hour on Donald Trump this morning,” the Spaniard countered. Preseason was hard work for him and he relished the day off to relax with his feet up. His girlfriend’s yard was a pretty nice place to do that. The water pumps in the pool moved the surface water just enough to make a little ambient noise with the whoosh of the fan to back up the music playing over on the patio at low volume. Christina chose an alt-rock radio station on Apple Music, which was as inoffensive as it was uninteresting. Occasionally a song she knew and liked came on and she hummed along with it. More than occasionally a song she knew and didn’t like came on, and she hummed those too. Juan talking to her about the summer tour, in the kind of voice dictated by their proximity to one another, was all she really cared to hear. Sometimes Lucky’s snoring surpassed the collective volume of all of those things, and the player rubbed his head with his toes to interrupt the funny sound without ruining the puppy nap.

“So those things and Donald Trump. That’s it.”

“What do you want to have on your mind? You’re living your big dream in a few days. Better to think about it as much as you can before it’s over and you can’t get this time back,” Juan suggested.

“I don’t know. I just want to feel like an interesting person,” the new Olympian chuckled.

“Have you started reading the zoo book yet?”

“No. You said I should take it to Tokyo, so I’m saving it for Tokyo.”

“Have you talked to Aidan lately?”

“Yes. He’s happy for me about Tokyo. He has a girlfriend. He can’t come to visit because school starts soon.”

“That’s too bad.”

“What are we going to do when football starts for real and you can’t come visit either?”

“You can still visit me.”

“I watched an MLS game the other night at the airport.”

“Why? You hate American soccer.”

“David Villa was on fire.”

“He’s loving it there.”

“He sounds exactly like you. I stopped paying attention when the match was over but I still had my laptop open and my earbuds in and he did the man of the match interview and I thought it was you for a second.”

“We grew up in the same place. This is normal, I think.”

“I looked at the nearest TV screen with departures on it to see if there was a flight to London. I wanted to see you. So bad. It was such a crazy weekend and I heard your voice, or what I thought was your voice, and I wished I was going home to you in London instead of coming back here.”

“You have the power any time you want to make “home” with me in London instead of here with him.”

“Don’t.”

“Why do you tell me this if you don’t want to talk about it?”

“I tried to nap a little yesterday before you got here. I was flip-flopping between putting music on for white noise or a podcast, and I picked neither. I fell asleep just thinking about you instead.”

“What about?”

“I had this vignette in my head about us in bed, having like really romantic sex with the instrumental version of this Damien Rice song I love. I do that a lot.”

“Which?”

“Fall asleep imagining scenarios with you, or with Schü. They’re always affectionate, or passionate, or...I don’t know. The other day I was like, “What does this mean? What does it say about me? Am I feeling starved for that kind of connection?” I couldn’t really decide. I probably fell asleep.”  

“I don’t know what it means,” the Spanish midfielder replied somewhat absently as he lifted his arm to use it as a headrest. Christina didn’t read that gesture as one meant to make more space between then. On the contrary, she inched closer to him and moved her knee to his thigh and her hand to his stomach. There were lots of times when his ability to listen to her situation and then interpret it differently could really, really agitate and annoy her, like the night before. Most of the time she wanted the service. She wanted him to tell her why her imagination struggled as of late to embrace any genre but softcore porn and romantic comedies. All it wanted to do was think up sex scenes, and cuddling scenarios, and it provided the staging, the soundtrack, the dialogue, and the plot, but never the prior scene or the one that would come next- never the context. Sometimes her imagination directed the scenes in her dreams and sometimes when she was awake. “Maybe it’s your conscience trying to protect you from thinking too much about the Olympics? If you weren’t having romantic fantasies all the time, maybe you’d be having medal ceremony ones, or scary ones where you hit all the jumps.”

“Maybe, but my conscience has never shown signs of self-awareness or a desire for self-preservation. It’s usually totally suicidal,” the rider giggled.

“You’ve grown a lot. You could be done with the self-destructive instincts,” Juan said back teasingly. She could see and hear his smile. “What are the other vignettes? Is that what you called them?”

“Yes, like a tableau, or scene. There was one where I desperately wanted you to fuck me standing up, like from behind, and you were like, “No, you’re too short”, and I was like “hello, Schü is half a foot taller than you and he manages,” and you were like, “Kneel on the bed”. So you were standing up and I was sitting up on my knees, and it was amazing. You kept kissing my neck or resting your chin on my shoulder here.” Christina patted the front of her left shoulder and then left her hand there, sort of tucked inside the neck of her shirt so she could touch her collarbone. “And obvs you had great access to boobs and clit so I was in over-stimulated heaven.”

“What’s happening in the ones that aren’t about sex?”

“When I got on that plane I passed out thinking about us going to a beautiful library from one of those Buzzfeed lists of beautiful libraries, and you walking around picking out all the books with quotes you know by heart that make you think of me,” she explained, able to see the scene in her head as if it were a memory. “I used to have things like that in my head when I had crushes on people, or when I first met Schü. And when we were first together. Usually my daydreams and fall-asleep-dreams are like...the stuff we put into the Dirk videos. Training montages with great songs. Victory gallops.”

“I know I’ve said it before and I know you’ve said no before, but I bet you could learn more about why you fantasize about different things if you spoke with a therapist.”

“Still no.” Christina shook her head and then pressed it into the Chelsea man’s ribs. He sighed dramatically like her cause was hopeless, and moved his left arm around her. His thumb tucked into the back of her cotton shorts near her hip.

“What are the ones you have with André?”

“Same type things.”

“I have had a thousand of these scenes come to me over the years where you leave him and tell me you’re ready to be together. I used to imagine how it would play out when you gave in and wanted to sleep together. It freaked me out a little bit when it actually happened in such a dramatic way, because I never expected that it would really happen like that. All the ways I pictured it were like laughably over the top, either porn-fantasy-dirty or so epic. Then that night actually was like a great story. Once in a while I think maybe the over the top scenes I imagine you telling me you want to be with me could actually happen like that too.” Juan was wistful in his sharing, but also self-deprecating. He must think it’s not cool for guys to think about stuff like that- to plan it out, his girl concluded while listening. I think it’s okay. If they can picture every second of the play leading up to when they score the Champions League winner then why not when they get the girl they want?

“So in what over the top ways has this gone down?” she asked with a big smile he couldn’t see but could probably sense. “How have I come to you and told you it’s time for us?”

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to recreate any of them when it happens.”

“Why?”

“I want it to be better than anything I could have imagined.”

Fuck, this is one of those moments. This is one of those exchanges you can “fantasize” about but know it never happens in real life. Like meet-cutes in movies. Nobody actually meets their soulmate that way except me and Schü. It’s one of those moments. It’s exactly what he’s talking about, the German girl realized, her heart beating steady but extra loudly in her chest and ears. She thought Juan’s couple of lines were too good. They weren’t even cheesy. They were just exquisite. He timed and executed the setup exactly the way he would have done if she plotted it out in one of her idle daydreams. She wanted to know if he plotted his as well, or if they were silly or ridiculous. Perhaps she said witty things in his vignettes but did so dressed as a French maid or something- some thing indicative of male authorship- some thing she couldn’t even fathom because she was a girl and she was Christina and only had Christina’s experiences and knowledge to draw from to make up her plot. Her internal screenwriter shouted that in her script, Juan would be lovingly kissed for what he said, and that she needed to get on top of him to do it so that after, she could fold her arms on him as a chin rest and spend a while smiling and listening right up close to his face while he told her about his imaginary interactions. Far be it from her to defy the writer.

“Are you about to do it right now?” the player teased after he got his kiss and while she arranged herself atop his body.

“No. That was just an adorable thing to say. Now give me some examples.”

“I think of one scene over and over for a long time,” he smiled, reaching out to poke at the large and disorganized knot of hair on her head. He must be fond of it then, Christina thought about the reoccurring daydream, attributing the frequency to satisfaction rather than some kind of plague or lack of imagination. “We’re at my place, and you drop a gold lipstick on the floor and ask me to pick it up for you. I bend down to get it and I try to hand it to you before standing up straight again, so your hand is right in my face when I go to give it back. You have a different ring on from this one.” Juan pointed at her diamond and aquamarine engagement ring since it happened to be right in front of his face, not unlike the story. “You had your diamond- the one I gave you, on the necklace- put back into a ring just like the one I got for you originally. You said you were ready to wear it a new way. Since I was already down there, I went to my knee and asked you if you wanted to wear it as my wife.”

“Awwww! That’s so adorable. How am I supposed to beat that?”

“I don’t know!” He continued to smile, and delighted in her melting heart. She had no intention of giving any sort of comment that might color his thinking or belief on the likelihood or nearness of her opting to choose the unique 5-carat Asscher cut rock over the 1.5-carat princess cut. That wasn’t the point of the conversation. Christina wasn’t thinking about it either. The feeling of imminent or eventual end of her marriage that she carried around with her for the better part of a year had dissipated enough to be a less urgent weight on her, or it was simply overshadowed by everyday life.

André didn’t follow through with the wedding band idea for their anniversary. They celebrated the special occasion when she got home from Aachen Sunday night, by drinking champagne and making s’mores over the fire pit. As anniversaries go, it was pretty low key. That was perfect though. Christina loved that her partner made a casual plan like that and researched how to pair different types of chocolate with different kinds of bubbly. He had a whole smorgasbord of chocolates with special extras, like lavender or orange peel, her favorite. Her idea for the occasion was to pack a picnic and take it to Signal Iduna Park. She wanted to con someone from the club into letting her spread a blanket and eat a lovely lunch in the center circle, so that she and André could reflect on and celebrate their journey together but also talk about all the ways they looked forward to the future. Football was the best outline by which she could think of to navigate the past and the future, and a lot of the future happiness was intrinsically linked to how he’d perform on that pitch. She didn’t know about his campfire plan ahead of time, and ended up being really glad that they did that instead. When she thought over whether or not to tell him her idea and try to make it happen as a sort of second celebration of their anniversary, she feared that it would seem almost threatening to the player- as if she were trying to tell him that he had better get his act together in that stadium or they’d never be happily ever after.

“What are your non-romantic vignettes about?” she inquired of the midfielder who still played at Stamford Bridge. “Fucking my butt?”

“Yes.” He winked at her and she stuck her tongue out. So did Spencer. He licked at her bare foot since it ended up in his face. His little tongue tickled and caused wriggling and squirming, which caused confusion for Juan, who had no idea why the girl on him was having some kind of attack.

“Pupppppy, stahhhhhp,” she moan-laughed. She didn’t want to just kick her foot or yank it away and accidentally hurt him. It took a few seconds for her to be sure of where he was and then cross her leg over the other ankle, out of range of any terriers.

“What was he doing?”

“Licking my baby toe.”

“Are you going to be lying on me for long?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I want more of this.” Her friend reached for his glass sitting on the little ledge behind his head. It had melting ice in it. Christina made iced coffee with fancy cold brew from the gourmet market. It was delicious. “If you’re just visiting, I can wait until you get up. If you plan to be here for a while, let me go get more and then you can come back.”

“You can go get a refill if you bring me one too. Thanks.” She stretched forward to smooch the unsuspecting player on the lips, and then carefully removed herself from his person. She sat Indian-style by the dogs so that she could pet them and remind them how spoiled they were, and how lucky they were not to have to go to “work” at the barn yet.

Also on her mind was how lucky she was not to have to be working at almost noon either, and how surprising it was that she could feel pretty relaxed about that. Christina was being incredibly “good” about her training, both in and out of the tack. She was back to working diligently but intelligently, the way she was able to do before André’s transfer set off a bomb in her routine. It was so much easier to feel prepared and calm about her riding and her horses when she knew she was doing everything right for them and for herself. Her heart kept trying to spiral out of control with anticipation and anxiety about the Olympics, but her brain kept telling it to calm down and be reasonable, reminding her that she was doing everything she possibly could, and that if she went to Tokyo and totally blew it, it wouldn’t be because of something she did in the build-up. Recognizing how good a place she was in was somewhat bittersweet, however, because it meant that it took an entire year to get back to “right” and “good”, and to her that was a year wasted. The horses especially had limited time and jumps to waste, but so did she. Christina couldn’t see herself extending her prime riding into her 40’s or even later like some of her colleagues.

“As it turns out,” she told Spencer, mostly, since Lucky was reluctant to open his eyes and acknowledge her attention. “All I really need in life is special ponies and a nice place to ride them, special boys and nice environments in which to cuddle with them, and enough free time to do stuff with Lulu Schü, because he deserves his Mom and because he makes me wanna die from laughter, and happy-cry at how cute he is, and- Yes, and you guys too.” The rider rolled her eyes at the tricolor terrier, who reached out with a paw to tap her hand when she got caught up in her explanation and stopped petting his little head. “Don’t tell him I told you, but Juanin said he misses you guys sometimes. Everyone loves you.” The rider bent down to kiss her puppy, and then looked around for her phone. There were a lot of pillows on the daybed, and displaced towels bunched up or folded from her moving about.

I need to know when Stef wants to do her lesson so I know how much time I have to do nothing, in case Juanin wants to do an actual thing. I’m fine not riding until like 7, and if she wants to ride late too then we can go into the city and...whatever. I dunno what he wants to see. Ooo, there it is. Her phone, setting a new record for single case usage, was close to falling off the side of the cushion, partially concealed by a towel.  

“No response from Stef but Schü says his back is fucked up again,” Christina reported to her canine kids with a frown.

“Fucked up how? I hope it doesn’t hurt too much :(“ Way to make me immediately feel guilty about relaxing and reveling in how great everything is, she snorted inside.

“Here, for you, carina,” Juan said when he handed over a hard plastic cup with her coffee, milk, and ice. It was already sweating in the heat. He wiped his glass, sans milk, with one of the towels once he’d climbed over the dogs to get back to his spot.

“Did you want to see anything or go anywhere? Or is being a bum around the house all afternoon okay?” An extremely tan, sun-bleached, well-caffeinated and small sized human approached him much the way the dogs approached when they knew they were going to lay down and stay a while but didn’t yet know exactly where or in what fashion. Christina was debating in her head about how she could resume lying on him on her stomach and still be able to sip from her straw. “I didn’t really plan any activities because I was going to ride now and then maybe go out later. Later activities are different than midday activities.”

“Show me your favorite place to eat lunch- late lunch,” the Spaniard clarified. “In a few hours. For now, bum.”

“I like that you like being a bum.”

“I like your bum.” He sat up to swat her butt while she lingered on two knees and one hand, trying to figure out how to get comfortable.

“Can you sit up more actually and I sit between your legs? I promise not to sit on your balls.”

“You always end up sitting on my balls.”

“Well hold them out of the way then and it won’t happen.” The rider rolled her eyes and then quickly climbed over his left thigh to settle in front of him and use him like a backrest. This isn’t as good as staring at his handsome face, she rued. But at least I can drink my drink and operate my phone, and he can rub my tummy, she smiled to herself when she felt a familiar hand settle on her stomach.

“You have become very skilled at relaxing, baby girl,” the hand’s owner yawned.

“Uhhuh. You sound like you need a nap.”

“I always need a nap.”

“You’re an old man.”

“Thanks.”

“I was with Lukas in the store the other day and an old man like you thought I was his babysitter, like I didn’t look old enough to be his mom. I love that old man.”

“Mhm.”

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No.”

“What would you be thinking about if you were?”

“Reaching into your shorts.”

“Honestly, babe, how are you surviving celibacy between visits, or are you not still doing that?” By “that” I mean not sleeping with other people. I assume that’s still true, Christina thought with only a very small measure of certainty. I didn’t have sex on the brain right now, but I can see why he would if he’s really not having any with anyone else. Especially since we didn’t even do that last night.

“Pass.”

“What?”

“Pass. Next question.”

“Does that mean you’re not?” She instinctively went to turn around to see his face, but Juan saw that coming and distracted her by slipping his palm into her loose shorts and gently sliding his fingertips down between her legs. Still, he could probably feel that she was tense because of his words rather than his actions.  

“It means I don’t want to talk about it,” he informed her with finality. She couldn’t read it though, so she persisted.

“But-“

“No, it doesn’t mean that,” he assured. The rider could feel him move around behind her and assumed it was to put his glass back on the ledge, as she soon found herself in the middle of both of his arms, not just his legs. His left hand replaced the right where it rested on her stomach before. She relaxed back against him a little, letting her head fall to one side. The Spanish player very quickly acknowledged that by pushing a small kiss into her neck. Christina closed her eyes.

“It would be okay if you weren’t,” she told him, hoping to sound ambivalent despite actually feeling the opposite. I would hate it, but it would be fair. It’s not like I’m faithful to him. “Do you want to?”

“Sleep with other girls?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“You know what sucks about this whole Olympic thing?”

“Figuring out how to find food in Japan that isn’t fish?”

“I never know if people are telling the truth or they’re just trying to protect my feelings until after, because they’re afraid the truth will upset me and ruin everything.”

“I’m not lying to you, baby girl.” Juan’s vow came with another distraction measure- he started moving his fingers back and forth across the narrowing fabric of her ultra-soft cotton underwear, slowly and delicate. His wrist was holding the waistband of the shorts out of the way and that other hand dragged the bottom of her shirt up some, so she could feel a breeze from the fan above.

“But how can you stand it?” His actions reminded her just how difficult it would be for her to live without regular sex. It was hard enough to live without those special fingers of his when he wasn’t around, despite frequent access to another player’s fingers.

“You can’t seem to go more than two weeks without seeing me, and then you use me like a sex toy so-“ The one who played in West London got an elbow to the gut. “Ow. Bad angel!” Christina sipped her coffee and then emitted a refreshed “ahhh”.

“But seriously, how do you stand it?”

“I don’t know. I was away anyway. I did miss being with you though...” Juan put his chin on her head and moved his hand back and forth over her navel. She had every intention of making up for any sex deficit, particularly oral sex, but wanted at least the time it would take to finish leisurely drinking her second coffee first. So she rotated her head and leaned all the way to the right so she could see him and offer a real kiss to hold him over.

“I always miss being with you,” she said quietly after that kiss and before a second, unplanned one. Both were sort of on the side of his mouth because it was hard to turn enough for a more conventional smooch. The player removed his hand from between her underwear and her shorts, and helped to hold her head where he could give her a kiss of his own, with soft, slightly sugar-sweetened lips and a bitter coffee tongue.

“Obviously, or you wouldn’t be picturing so many different ways you want me to fuck you.” He grinned a mischievous little smile at close range when he was finished checking to see if her mouth tasted any different thanks to the cream in her iced coffee.

[lydia-can-live]

NopeLander

tl:dr Outlander used to be great, and instead of writing it as the romance-fantasy that it is, they subscribed to the theory that drama and plot are more interesting than nuanced intimacy and in doing so drained it of its charm and energy while at the same time bashed fans for not being happy about it.

Production ruined the magic that was Outlander in such a stumbling, amateurish, way. First off, they do not understand Jamie and Claire, who are best friends as well as lovers. They use humor to sustain their connection and share a lot of inside jokes. Physically they are rooted to their intimacy. In the show their relationship is tenuous and they never realistically comfort one another. Touching each other’s jaw line in lieu of good dialogue is just irritating. 2nd, the wigs take you out of the story, immediately. Why did that not concern anyone? Sam Heughan is a gorgeous man but I snort every time we see that alpaca hair. The only time I can take him seriously is when he is wearing a tri-corn. Claire’s hair looks passable from far away but up close it’s like, holy hairline! Jamie had shaggy hair in S1 because he was growing out the buzz cut he got at the Abbey, not because he liked having fringe. If they are trying to recreate S1 hair they have failed spectacularly.

Season Finale: Rescuing Dog Face. I want to care, but I don’t. Roger and Bree do not have an established or believable relationship. He showed up with his Paul McCartney hair in Boston and the writers decided he loved her and that’s all it’s based on. There is no chemistry between them but there isn’t any conversation, either. She is apathetic. We’ll never know how Sophie would deliver well written dialogue but with her somnolent delivery my guess is it wouldn’t have helped. Maybe they limited her dialogue because she couldn’t manage more than a few words at a time. She was miscast, obviously. They couldn’t have found a tall, American actress with dual UK/USA citizenship with an Equity card? Hey Show Bree: Roger humiliated then abandoned you at the Clan gathering because you didn’t want to marry him. He then had a relationship with you --in his mind--, while you were living on your own and trying to keep your eyes from closing while you talked.  Why do you love him? Back to Dog Face: A group of people are going against their own tribe to rescue Dog Face and risk alienation from said tribe just to get a stone they could have just taken from Claire? Come on. The tribe had sentries posted when Jamie and Claire were approaching but everyone had the night off to gather around for the drumming circle? The one guy watching the idiot tent gets clubbed (is he dead? We don’t know) by Jamie and no one notices? Finally the jig is up and the resulting scramble to “reach the river” is so laughably amateurish that I imagined the camera guy laughing like you do when you’re filming your friends in the backyard trying to recreate the Aragorn/Nazgul fight scene from the LOTR. Thankfully, Claire was there to bring a sensible end to it all with a very effective “Its ovah”. Even the Mohawk warriors were impressed. So did they all sleep in the idiot tent that night, or what? And Roger isn’t totally amazed seeing Claire and Jamie, together? No? He just cowers in her clutches. At least he’s not wearing those absolutely ridiculous but completely historically accurate culottes anymore. The Birth: Everyone complaining about this is correct. Claire would never have allowed her daughter to go through child birth in the 18th century without her. I don’t understand why the writers made this decision. That whole birthing chair thing was cringe worthy. Jocasta and her hand-made silk dress isn’t going to be assisting at a freaking birth.  In the book, while Bree is asking Jamie to stay for the birth, he pleadingly looks to Claire like ‘what do I do’ because, while he’s heard a lot of birthing going on, he’s never been asked to assist. It shows their complete unison as a team, their trust in each other, and it’s cute to see Jamie out of his element a little. More importantly, Jamie got to experience his grandchild with his heart burst wide open and he reveled in it. The dialogue in the book is touching and funny and it resonates because its tied to emotions that have long been been building. Jemmy is the catalyst for healing many of Jamie’s wounds regarding his children. He is the balm for his soul. In the show, Jamie barely acknowledges the baby. But here, blind Auntie --who in the show uses a cane-- you take the baby. Don’t hurt him with the giant brooch thing you are wearing. And don’t walk anywhere. Just stand there. Don’t you go dyin’ on me! Here’s the other thing: Bree loves her baby from the start. When Jemmy is born she is completely devoted to him and his care. She wouldn’t be sitting in a room by herself while her baby is hanging with a bunch of people who seem to be just standing around in a circle.  Back to the book for a second: When Roger finally shows up, Bree is not broken. She’s besotted with her son and enjoying the loving embrace of her family. She’s whole. I like that Bree.  

As much as I miss the humor between Jamie and Claire, I didn’t want to hear Sam call Claire “Granny” unless it was with a twinkle in his eye after he comes to the realization that this is the first time she’ll be called that, and it’s the first time he gets to say it. I hate book dialogue spoken with no depth or understanding of the moment. Intimacy is what DG gets so right in the books and I don’t like hearing actual lines unless it carries some weight, I’m looking at you “Turtle Soup” (cringe). Murtagh: When he jumped off that wagon I was like…Duncan LaCroix is just loving the shit out of this. I don’t like the Regulator plot because they are shit stirrers who like to argue and ruin gatherings. Murtagh should be sticking to his vow, which was to protect Jamie. These are 18th century people, they took that shit seriously. The fight with Jocasta was hilarious but when she said ‘let’s get breakfast’ and they pan over to Murtagh and he’s all laid out on the bed like ‘here’s your freakin’ breakfast, with sausage’ I laughed so hard I had to pause it, drink some water and pull myself together. I was dying. It wasn’t as funny the second time because I knew it was coming but the first time it was like I could see Duncan turning up that sexy vibe to 11 and it was both funny and ridiculous, and he knew it. Rogers Choice: They should have made Roger a man of worth by having him immediately want to go to Bree. If you freaking love her so much it wouldn’t be an issue. What is she going to do, choose Bonnet over you? It should have been with no hesitation. It would have redeemed him, gave the search and rescue a satisfying conclusion, and saved us from yet another use of the two lovers running toward each other imagery.  The music was so cliché I have to wonder if Bear is just picking stuff off a spotify muzak playlist. It’s clear that the show has lapsed into soap opera territory. Sam’s face when he said he had to –takes off glasses-- kill Murtagh, wasn’t full on Drake Ramoray, but it was teetering close to it. Poor Outlander. You had the rare combination of chemistry, beauty, and talent combined with an eager and knowledgeable fan base and you reduced it to a strange wooden version of itself. Dedicated fans are leaving. I’m done. These writers are not smart or creative enough to chisel down The Fiery Cross. So much times passes during the gathering that surely Jamie will have outgrown his bangs, but of course he won’t. He’ll just keep hacking at them and I don’t want to stick around to watch.

Post Scriptum: Drinking game idea: Anytime anyone says Fraser’s Ridge. I mean, who talks like that? You’d say, ‘lets go home’. No one spouts the address when they reference home. ‘Where are you going?’ ‘123 State Street, where I live’.  Post, post Scriptum: You could also have a drinking game for every time Claire crosses her arms but you’d better have plenty of libations on hand.

#Outlander #A Man of Worth #outlander starz #outlander season 4