#that said that experience with other brands happened over ten years ago
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no better place
Summary: “I knew a new puppy was a bad idea.”
or
The time Hotch broke his foot stepping over a brand new puppy and spent the entire holiday season laid up.
Words: 5.7k
Pairing: Hotch/Morgan
Warnings: injuries & surgery, mention of clooney's passing
Notes: So...Comfortember is still happening but this popped into my head and I couldn't get it out so...now it's out there. Chicago Times, old men, Jack is at college and everyone they love comes to help. This should get busy and fun. I want to dive on to SO MUCH comfort. This is Chapter 1 of...many. Probably. I'll make it a landing page later.
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“Fractured in two places? You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!”
Derek was staring at the x-ray like it had to be a joke. They had to have mixed it up with someone else’s.
“I told you,” Hotch replied with a smug little smile in spite of the fact that it was him sitting on the exam table with his foot draped in icepacks while he waited for the shot of whatever pain killer they’d given him to kick in. Derek rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“How’s that possible? It was one step.”
“I felt a pop. I knew right away.”
“Do we need to check for like, osteoporosis or something, doc? One step…come on. How?” Derek just couldn’t believe it and Hotch was more than a little irritated at how he was reacting. Some part of Derek refused to admit that getting older meant doing less with more consequences, and try as he might to outrun the perils of aging, it couldn’t be done. Still, Hotch wasn’t sure this had as much to do with him being older as it did with just simply landing wrong with his full body weight. He was pretty sure even ten or fifteen years ago it would have ended up with the same result. As if reading Hotch’s mind, the doctor just shook his head and pointed to the two small fractures in the top of Hotch’s foot, a common injury site that had a relatively high healing rate. He’d just begun to feel somewhat comfortable, resigned to his fate of lying on the couch watching the world go by for a couple of weeks when the other shoe dropped.
“This kind of break is extremely common, even in young people. There are a lot of small fragile bones in the foot. The breaks are clean but I am concerned that there are two of them, one in the 4th metatarsal and one in the 5th. This could make organic healing a challenge at your age. I am going to suggest surgery – the procedure would take roughly two hours, it’s an outpatient procedure so you can go home as soon as you’re cleared, and it doesn’t extend the healing time by much. What it would do is strengthen that area and give you the best fighting chance at regaining your active lifestyle.”
“Surgery?” Hotch was at least two full clicks back. The drugs they’d given him were strong and he was out of it. Derek had plenty of experience asking questions and slipped right into that part of his personality that had been neatly folded up and put away since he left the BAU. Suddenly he was Agent Morgan in the interrogation room again.
“What kind of surgery? What’s the prognosis with and without it, doc?”
“Here is the information, everything you could want to know about the procedure and why I am recommending it. If I didn’t know how active the two of you are, I would probably not be pushing for it but this injury could severely impact your lifestyle if it doesn’t heal correctly. And given your age, that’s unfortunately very likely. I’ll step out and give you a moment to look over the paper and talk it over, and then I’ll come in and we’ll splint it up and send you home to rest.”
“Thanks doc.”
Derek didn’t hesitate. He glanced down at Hotch who was lying on the table with his arm thrown over his eyes, and he pulled out his phone. He wasn’t exactly sure what time it was in Thailand but it didn’t matter, he had to call Savannah. Get a second opinion.
“This had better be good,” she said instead of hello. “It is 5am and I still had two hours on my alarm clock, Derek.”
“Good morning beautiful,” he said automatically, a smile on his face. Thirteen hours, he knew now. She was thirteen hours ahead of him and he felt a little bad calling and waking her up, but not bad enough that he wished he hadn’t called. Even when she was grumpy she made him smile. “I won’t keep you long, I just...we had kind of a situation happen and I need your opinion.”
“A medical situation or a Hank situation?”
“Hank’s good, it’s Aaron I’m callin’ about. He broke his foot this morning taking a step weird. Non-contact, two fractures, and Dr. Carter wants to do surgery. What do you think?”
“Did he leave the x-rays in the room?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Send me pictures of them, give me five minutes and I’ll video call you. I want to see him and his foot too okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
She didn’t even take the full five minutes, and when Derek saw her face he breathed a sigh of relief. She smiled at him gently and even in the dark of her room, with no makeup on and her gray flecked hair pulled back in a ponytail, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Has Dr. Carter come back yet?”
“No, just us. They gave Aaron a shot of something that looks pretty powerful and we’ve been waiting for it to kick in. I’d say it’s kicked in, he’s practically dead to the world.”
“Alright. Well I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I agree with Dr. Carter. The fact that it was a non-contact injury makes me a little concerned about it happening again, and putting a couple of screws in there is going to help make sure it doesn’t by helping it heal correctly. There are no guarantees, but this would be the recommendation to just about any athlete with an injury like this. What’s your hesitation?”
“Last time he was under, his heart stopped.”
“That was a traumatic situation and emergency surgery to correct internal bleeding, Derek, not a scheduled outpatient foot surgery. I know you worry but this is a low-risk situation.”
“So you’d do it?”
“I would. Can I talk to him?”
Derek brought the phone to the side of the exam table and tapped on Hotch’s arm, rousing him. He hadn’t been sleeping, exactly, just zoning out somewhere in the caverns of his mind. “Yeah?” he rasped, lifting his arm to look at Derek. What he saw instead was Derek’s phone and Savannah’s smiling face and he followed her lead with his own sleepy, slow smile. “Hey you.”
“Hey yourself,” she said. “How you feeling?”
“Tired.”
“Yeah. They gave you the elephant tranquilizers huh?”
“Guess so.”
“Good.”
“Do you want me to have the surgery?” he asked, blinking slowly. There was only one reason she’d be looking at him right now and even if he couldn’t remember Derek calling her or any of their conversation that had happened right beside him, he knew that much.
“I do. Ultimately it’s your choice, but I agree with Dr. Carter.”
“Okay.”
“That’s it?” Derek asked, staring at Hotch with a look of pure confusion. Hotch just shrugged. “No fight?”
“I trust Savannah.”
“Okay then. Guess we’re scheduling surgery.” Derek’s mind hadn’t quite caught up to where they were at, not really. How they’d gone from his complete disbelief that there could be any broken bones at all to having two of them and surgery on the horizon was beyond him. He wanted to laugh and cry over the absurdity of it.
“Let me know when the surgery is. I’ll see if I can get some time off to come help with Hank.”
“Thank you,” Hotch said, throwing his arm back over his eyes to shield them from the harsh overhead lights. His head was pounding...it didn’t exactly hurt, not through the fog of the drugs, but it was annoying and the darkness made it stop. It didn’t do much to alleviate the intense throbbing in his foot though. That, he knew, he was stuck with for the foreseeable future.
Derek said goodbye to Savannah and hung up, shoving his phone back into his pocket before leaning down and kissing Hotch’s elbow. Hotch hummed in response and Derek only sighed miserably, already beginning a mental checklist of everything he would have to do to get their house ready. Moving furniture, getting a shower chair, installing bars in the bathroom. He would have to take time off of work, talk to his mom, call Penelope and tell her their trip back to Virginia was canceled until further notice. There was so much to do he didn’t hear the doctor knock before re-entering the room. “I knew a new puppy was a bad idea.”
It had only taken a week for him to come to that conclusion. One week ago things had been good, everything was on track for a vacation and a busy holiday season until the dog.
“A puppy?” Derek asked when Desiree brought her over, ready to convince him that it was time. She only shrugged and smiled, holding the tiny little ball of fluff up to Derek’s face. A black sable German Shepherd, all dark fur laced with enchanting bits of tan and silver and red. She stared at him curiously with dark eyes and he already knew he was going to have a hard time saying no, something about her already seemed to know him and love him. It made his chest ache. Clooney had been gone for a couple of years now, he’d been in good enough shape to live longer than a dog his size should have and Derek had almost convinced himself Clooney might be able to live forever. Until he didn’t, and while the years had padded his grief some and their little family had moved on from tears to reluctant acceptance, he wasn’t sure he was ready to get another dog. To replace Clooney.
“She’s not a replacement, Derek,” Desi said, shoving the dog into his arms. “I loved that old fool too, but Jack’s gone off to college and Hank needs someone to play with. You guys could use a guard dog living in that neighborhood.”
Derek regarded the puppy with her floppy ears and huge chunky paws. “A guard dog?”
“Oh, Derek come on. She’s basically Clooney’s granddaughter or something. I don’t know how dog breeding works but her mom is related to Clooney somehow.. Just take her for a week, test it out. If she doesn’t work out I’ll find someone else or take her myself.”
“Why aren’t they training her?”
“She’s a little broken, just like you like ‘em.”
She was bred for duty as a K9 but she had a small heart defect that, while the vet assured them it wouldn’t affect her quality or duration of life, would preclude her from duty as a K9 cop. Desi’s fiance was one of the K9 officers and was trying to get her help to find families for the dogs they couldn’t use. “One week.”
The very first day, she peed inside of Derek’s favorite running shoes and chewed up the toe of Hotch’s pair. Lesson learned, no more shoes beside the door. She wasn’t terribly destructive after that, though she did do a lot of peeing on the wood floor. Hank played in the yard with her for hours, chasing her and playing fetch, and at one point while he watched and found himself softening up to the idea, Derek wasn’t sure who exactly was fetching.
“I don’t want a puppy,” Derek said as they crawled into bed that first night. Already his resolve had weakened but he wasn’t there yet. He would be sad to give her back, sure, but he would still do it. “She’s cute, I’ll give her that...but a puppy? We’re getting ready to fly to Virginia...what do we do with a puppy?”
“Let’s give her a chance. I don’t want a puppy either but Hank seems very motivated to help. Maybe we can use this as a tool, he’s old enough for a little responsibility.”
“He’s seven, he ain’t trainin’ no puppy.”
“I don’t mean that, but he can feed her and take her into the backyard when she needs to go out. He can keep her brushed. He could probably teach her a few little tricks.”
“You’ve gone soft in your old age.”
Hotch had no argument for that, he knew he had. And he supposed it was his right to do so, he’d been gruff and stern far too long. He simply smiled and nestled down beneath the blankets. It was getting cold. “I know you miss Clooney. I do too, every day. She wouldn’t replace him. No dog could ever. But it might be nice having another dog around.”
Derek tried to enjoy the puppy, but her bark grated on his nerves and the peeing in the house was about to drive him crazy. Hotch wasn’t crazy about any of that either but he was trying to maintain his status as good cop to Derek’s bad cop at least for the week.
And then Hotch fell. Well, he didn’t exactly fall, that was the part that Derek was the most bothered by. He never hit the ground, that would have made more sense. He just stepped wrong. Coming up the back porch steps after taking the as yet unnamed puppy out in the early morning, he hopped up the slick steps to the back deck like usual. The same way he took the steps every day, except this time a puppy made a mad dash and darted beneath his feet to chase a bird that landed in the yard. He pivoted on the slick wood to avoid stepping on her and landed with all of his weight on his lead foot at an unnatural angle. He knew right away his foot was broken, or maybe his ankle, that part he didn’t know. But it was broken, that he was sure of. He felt a sickening pop that released a wave of pain that coursed from his toes to his knee. It took everything in his power not to collapse right there on the spot. Instead he just let out a low groan and limped pathetically back into the house like a lame animal, waiting for the puppy to follow him inside before shutting the door and falling into a kitchen chair. Derek found him at the table with his head down ten minutes later, just breathing through the worst of it.
“What’s up?” He asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He looked down at the puppy sitting at Hotch’s feet and thought she had a strangely sad or guilty look about her.
“I think I broke my foot,” Hotch said from inside of his arms. The act of talking made him feel dizzy and sick, his hands were shaky. He knew he was in some kind of shock. “Could you get me some ice please? I can’t walk.”
“Can’t walk? Broke your foot? How? It’s 7am man.”
Derek went to the kitchen and rummaged through the freezer for an ice pack quickly, confused and trying to reason out what could possibly have happened in the thirty minutes since Hotch had gotten out of bed. Walking back to the table, the look of confusion plastered on his face, he watched Hotch slide his foot gingerly out of his slipper with shaking hands and he saw it right away. His ankle and the top of his foot were already swelling, the color changing from pale to a pinkish red. He couldn’t believe his eyes. “You’re gonna have to talk to me here.”
“I was coming up the stairs,” Hotch said quietly, taking the ice and setting it on his foot now propped up on the chair beside him. The pressure from the icepack hurt and he had to put his head down again to ride out another wave of intense nausea. “She got under foot. I didn’t want to step on her so I just shifted a little and landed funny.”
“So you didn’t even fall?”
“No.”
“Probably just sprained…”
“I felt it pop Derek.”
It didn’t seem possible, but Derek made the call to Hotch’s doctor’s office to see if they could get him in today to check it out. Neither of them wanted to go to the Urgent Care and sit for hours, it wasn’t exactly an emergency. The pain came and went, a little ibuprofen at least took the edge off and Derek didn’t have any problem helping him from the kitchen to the living room so he could lay down on the couch to try and rest off the shock. From there they waited. His doctor was able to fit him in for an appointment in late afternoon with an x-ray scheduled first, they just had to stay comfortable until then. Derek still couldn’t believe it.
“It can’t be broken.”
Derek couldn’t bear to watch the x-ray, watching them move Hotch’s foot into positions that caused him pain. He was in the room but he couldn’t look. Still, the longer the day wore on and Hotch’s condition didn’t seem to improve the way it might have if it was a sprain, he began to come around on the whole broken idea – they wanted to put Hotch in a wheelchair and he didn’t argue. If it was a sprain he would have been walking on it. He might be getting up there in age but he was still tough as nails – they’d both suffered their fair share of strains and sprains as a natural side effect of their active lifestyle, so for this to take Hotch down...he knew it had to be big, he just couldn’t wrap his mind around it being this bad over nothing. Over a misstep. Because that meant it could have happened to him too, it meant that they had to be more careful with their bodies, it meant they needed to get into even better shape...he didn’t know. It unsettled every bit of comfort he’d developed over the last few years.
The worst part was, he found himself blaming the puppy. When they told him Hotch couldn’t walk for two weeks and he should spend most of that time resting, meaning he would have to take on extra work around the house, meaning they would have to reschedule their trip to Virginia to visit Penelope and the rest of their friends. Meaning a whole hell of a lot of things, all because Desi convinced him a puppy might be fun.
Well she was going to hear about this, because his idea of fun didn’t involve broken bones and crutches.
“We’re not keeping her,” Derek said as he helped Hotch from the wheelchair into the waiting car. There was no comfortable way for a man of his height to sit in any car with a broken foot, but they didn’t have far to go and Hotch didn’t complain even if Derek could tell he was uncomfortable. “Two more days and Desi can find someone else to take her.”
“Derek…”
Derek didn’t answer, and didn’t look at Hotch because that might wear him down. Hotch had obviously already become attached to the little thing in spite of the predicament she’d caused him. To avoid having to look at Hotch, he swung them through their favorite place to get milkshakes and bought them a treat before driving home in silence. He didn’t want to be so cruel but this wouldn’t have happened if not for the puppy, and now he had to call Penelope and tell her they weren’t coming to visit, that they instead had to spend a week preparing for surgery and then six to eight weeks (or more) recovering from it. It was going to crush her. She’d been preparing for their visit for weeks now.
“I’ll come to you!” she said, without hesitation. “You’re going to need the help and I have plenty of vacation time saved up. I was going to take the whole week you guys were here off anyway...I’ll get a plane ticket right now. How does two weeks sound? Is that too long? Is that long enough?”
“Babygirl, you don’t have to spend your vacation taking care of us.”
“I know, silly, but I want to. Let me. Please. I miss you both so much and you’re going to need the help.”
He found it impossible to say no to her, and by the time their conversation was over he had a time to pick her up from the airport on his calendar for the next morning and a little more peace in his heart. He knew she was going to convince him to keep the puppy too, but she would help him take care of Hotch and he could use her support. As soon as he was off of the phone, he went to tell Hotch they were about to have company and found him sleeping with the puppy lying on the floor beneath the couch looking up at him as he breezed through the room. She still looked sad and guilty, like she knew what happened. He felt a little bad for her so he scooped her up into his arms and gave her a kiss on the head, called her a good girl, took her outside to pee and called Jack while he sat out there waiting for her to do her business.
“Broken?! I’m gone for two months and my dad breaks his foot?!”
“It was a freak accident. He’s okay though, I’d let you talk to him but he’s sleeping on the couch.” The puppy was sleeping on his lap now, stretched out across his thighs like she owned the place. Derek had to admit that was sweet and he wondered if she knew, in some way. If she felt responsible. She’d been a little extra clingy since they got home, staying close to Hotch for no real reason he could account for. And the minute he’d allowed it, she was up on his lap.
“Do you need me to come home?”
“Absolutely not. You’re in your first semester of college, man. You don’t have to worry about us.”
“Apparently I do!”
“No, Jack, you don’t. I got it. Plus my whole family’s here, we got Jess...who I have to call next...and Penelope’s flying out. You stay in New York, be a kid out on his own, don’t worry about your old men. We’re fine.”
“Will you have him call me when he wakes up?”
“Sure thing.”
Jessica was livid. About what, she didn’t really have words, mostly just that he was hurt and he didn’t call her. “How much time should I take off?”
“You don’t have to take any time off. Just come by when you can. Penelope’s gonna be here tomorrow and she’s staying for two weeks. My mom and sisters are gonna help.”
“I’m coming by tonight with dinner, do not cook. We’ll make a game plan then.”
“Jess…”
“Derek, he’s my brother. Let me help.”
Derek sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t want the help, he knew they were going to need it, it was just that he was starting to feel the crushing weight of being a burden to everyone he loved. He could only imagine how it was all going to make Hotch feel once he woke up and became aware of the situation. He was glad that all Hotch knew right now was whatever dreams he was floating through and the warm weight of the puppy on his legs.
His mom and sisters showed up with bags of groceries in their arms and a truckload of pillows stuffed into giant trash bags. “What’s all this?”
“Go get the walker from my car,” Fran said, handing Derek the keys. “It’s folded in the trunk.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
There was a walker, a shower chair and a small brown bag full of gel ice packs all stuffed into the trunk of her car. He scooped it all up in his arms and made his way back into the house, hoping they were all being quiet enough not to wake Hotch.
“What’d you do, rob the old folks home?”
“This belonged to your grandma, it’s been up in my attic since her hip surgery two years ago. I knew it would come in handy. Just needs a good wash.”
Desiree was looking at the puppy on Hotch’s lap while Sarah pulled out the lysol wipes and began cleaning up the dusty old medical gear. “You’re going to need to move this furniture around, make the walkways bigger.”
“I know.”
“And put some bars on the walls in the bathroom. Probably two near the toilet and another two in the shower.”
“I know, Sarah.”
“Hey, don’t take that tone with me. I’m just trying to help.” Sarah had spent the first few years of her adult life working in retirement and assisted living facilities, she knew all of the ins and outs. He was lucky to have her experience even if he didn’t exactly want it right now. He just wanted this all to go away.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m going to do some shopping tomorrow to get everything I need.”
“You have a week. I’ll help.”
“I got it,” he said a little indignantly. He could manage the repairs on his house himself, it was the only part of this whole thing he felt like he did have any control over. The only part he knew how to handle. But the look Sarah gave him was equally as stubborn, and he knew that whatever came out of her mouth next was going to crush his chances of doing it himself.
“He needs you to be available to help him, which means you can’t be out and about at the hardware store and punching holes in the walls. I know you got that whole Mister Fix-It thing you like to do, but you have to step back this time little brother. Your husband needs you.”
Yeah, he saw that coming. She knew how to break him down. He didn’t even recognize it until the tears were burning in his eyes and she was pulling him in for a hug.
“It’s all going to be fine,” she said quietly, patting his back. “He’s going to be okay. You’re just going to have to slow down for a while. It’ll be good for both of you.”
He nodded and tried to stop himself from crying but it was no use, and that was what Hotch woke up to. The sight of his sister consoling him beside a living room full of medical equipment that hadn’t been there earlier.
“Derek?” he asked, his voice a hoarse sleepy whisper. “What’s the matter?”
Derek sniffled a little and sucked it up, puffing up his chest and flashing Hotch his best smile. “Nothing. All good. How you doing? Can I get you something?”
Hotch scrunched up his nose and considered the questions but they were too much in the soupy mess of his brain. He let his hand settle on the puppy’s chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her ribs and smiled.
“I think she likes me,” he whispered and Derek let out a laugh.
“I think she feels guilty.”
“For what?” Hotch asked and Derek just shook his head. Of course Hotch wouldn’t look at it like that.
“Nothing…” he said, brushing it off. “Let me get you some water.”
“Already on it!” Sarah called, rushing toward the kitchen. Hotch blinked stupidly around the room, as if realizing for the first time that it was packed with people. Fran and Desiree were moving furniture out of the way and unpacking what looked like every throw pillow they could find in Fran’s house.
“Ma, what did you do?” Derek asked as the pillows tumbled out of the bag. Fran just laughed.
“These are my extras.”
“I think you got a problem…”
“I don’t see you complaining when you come sit on my furniture.”
“What am I gonna do with a thousand Christmas throw pillows?”
“Prop your husband’s foot up, make him comfortable. He’s going to be laid up through the season so I thought it should be festive. I’ll bring over all of my good Christmas blankets in the morning but they had to go through the wash.”
“Ma…”
“Hush. Don’t you ma me, now sit down with him while we put this place together. I took care of your grandmother for six months while she healed, one of your sisters is in med school and the other has worked as a caregiver for years. I’d say we’re experts and you are simply in our way.”
“Ma.”
“Shh. Hush. We’ll make you a list of things to get done when we leave, but for now...sit.”
“I see why you’re so bossy…” Hotch whispered, sitting up enough to allow Derek room to squeeze in behind him before he leaned back against the brick wall he called a husband. Derek’s arms draped over his shoulders and circled him.
“You boys want me to turn on the TV?” Fran asked and Hotch was about to say something when Derek shook his head.
“No. Just do your thing.”
Hotch wouldn’t have minded the television on, it would have provided a distraction from the intense throbbing in his foot, but if Derek didn’t want it on he must have had a reason so he just lay there against him petting the puppy as he waited.
“Penelope’s flying in tomorrow morning,” he said, and Hotch nodded. He had already assumed that would be the case. No way they could cancel on her for this reason and have her just say okay, maybe another time. “She’s going to stay for a few weeks and help out. That cool?”
“Do I have a choice?” He asked it quietly but with a soft smile. Derek just shook his head.
“Nope.”
“Then yes, it’s cool. Anything else?”
“Jess is bringing dinner tonight. She wants to talk.”
“I figured as much. You made yourself busy while I slept. Did you call Jack?”
“Of course. He wants you to call him. Kid’s probably got a plane ticket ready to buy so you should do that soon. Tell him he’s forbidden to come home until his holiday breaks.”
“I’m sorry Derek,” Hotch said, his voice quiet and thick with emotion. Derek didn’t have to look at him to know he was crying, and part of that was the drugs they’d given him in the office but the rest...well that was just Hotch. He felt things so damn deeply.
“For what?”
“Don’t,” Hotch whispered, reaching up to swipe the tears from his cheeks. “You know why.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. Shit happens. We’re gonna be fine.” He knew Hotch wasn’t worried about himself, he was worried about how this was going to inconvenience everyone around him. All of the tasks he was responsible for around the house, taking Hank to school in the mornings, assistant coaching his basketball team, taking trips and Christmas shopping and sledding and...all of it gone. “We might never be alone again...but we’ll be fine. Come on,” Derek said, twisting around so he could look at Hotch. “Don’t cry. Come on. It’s gonna be hard but we’ve done hard things before.”
“I know.”
“Will you stop crying if I say we can keep the damn dog?”
Hotch scrunched his nose and sniffed, a little insulted that Derek was talking to him like he was a child. But it was also funny enough to make him smile. Glancing down at the dog, he patted her on the top of the head and let his hand rest there heavily. He didn’t have the strength to do much more. The drugs in his system were making time lag, making his body heavy and bone tired. They didn’t do much for the pain that drove in waves from his knee to his toes, but they did make him find it hard to care or focus there long.
“You hear that Paige? He says you can stay. I knew he’d come around.”
“Paige?” Derek asked, his voice cautiously quiet. Hotch had named the puppy. He clearly had no plans to give her back whether Derek had agreed to it or not.
Hotch hummed happily and nodded. “Satchel Paige. She loves the baseball Hank throws for her.”
“When did you decide all of this?”
“This morning. Outside. Was going to tell you, but...”
“Yeah,” Derek said, smiling down at her, finding that he’d been stroking her soft fur for the last few minutes absentmindedly. She was so warm, breathing slowly, nestled in against Hotch’s thighs. “I guess you had other things on your mind.” Satchel Paige. Paige. Something about her having a name that meant something to both of them, a link between them, the first member of their family that would come from their own union...it softened him up. And when she snorted and twitched her ear and stretcher her legs out stick straight before curling back up around her cold little nose, he knew there was no way he would have ever been able to give her back either. Hotch just knew it first.
“It isn’t her fault, you know,” Hotch whispered, running his fingers up her fuzzy little snout. He was already in love. “Look at her.
“I know. It just sucks, man. I hate seein’ you in pain.”
Hotch smiled and leaned back, closing his eyes. The world had taken on a foggy, unreal quality that made him feel dizzy. He sank into Derek and grounded himself against his solid form. “I’m alright. Just tired.”
“Then sleep. Jess will be here soon, then you can both call Jack together. I’m not allowed to move anyway...you might as well take advantage of this.”
Hotch didn’t need to be told twice, he was drifting off by the time Derek finished talking.
#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#hotchgan#criminal minds#fanfiction#chicago times universe#my soft soft old men
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OFMD Fic Recs
Here it is, the big list I like to put together of fanfiction recommendations!
It’s gonna be long. Blackbonnet-centric. I’ll likely add more over time. Enjoy!
Old Wounds by derryday
Author’s summary:
"I've got to say, Stede," Ed said from where he was reclining on the couch, his long limbs draped every which way, "if someone had told me a year ago that some spoiled rich boy was gonna take up pirating, I'd've given you a week, tops."
Ed's voice was soft, thoughtful. There was no malice in his teasing smirk. His eyes were warm, crinkling at the corners, inviting Stede to share the joke.
Stede still flinched, jostling the two glasses of brandy he'd been pouring. A bit of amber liquid spilled over the rim, staining his sleeve.
Chiaroscuro by MenaceAnon
Author’s summary:
The Widow Mary Bonnet has a life, and Stede Bonnet isn't part of it. They agreed. There was a leopard and everything.
Then again, Stede has a talent for disrupting plans—for instance, by turning up on your doorstep in the dead of night with a bleeding pirate who turns out to be his beloved Ed.
Stede’s First Divorce-Arc by Oposummmmfriend
Author’s summary:
Stede has a heartfelt late-night chat with Oluwande about moving on. Stede also has a vindictive streak that refuses to let things go. You can probably guess which one wins out.
our blood is thicker than storms and saltwater by ShowMeAHero
Author’s summary:
“No!” Ed screams instinctively. He doesn’t know what’s happened, but he knows he’s heard a gunshot, and he knows Stede’s hands are slipping out of his, and he knows, a second later, that Stede’s let go of the railing to fall into the sea below.
Somebody grabs onto Ed’s shoulder, but he wrenches them off of him without a second thought. He wrestles his boots off, then his weapons, but he doesn’t care to tear off anything else— there isn’t time for it, not now, not when—
“Captain, don’t!” Frenchie shouts behind him.
Ed ignores him. The Revenge doesn’t have a captain if Stede Bonnet’s not on board.
pearls that you pulled from the deep by ShowMeAHero
Author’s summary:
If this man lives— which Ed has no intention of allowing to happen— he could start a whole fresh horror story, could tour the seas telling this brand-new tale about Blackbeard’s specific brand of savage violence. This time, it would even be entirely fucking true.
This time, it won’t be Izzy that kills a man for him, or the flames of a fire, or the blow of a fall. It won’t be committed from a distance, and it won’t be an experience-twice-removed, and it won’t be outsourced to somebody else. It won’t be an accident; it won’t be a legend; it won’t be a mistake, or an exaggeration, or just another myth that sailors tell each other for scares late at night.
It won’t be a technicality that kills the man that killed Stede Bonnet. It’ll be Ed.
or: ed and stede are ambushed, and ed thinks he sees stede die. he doesn't, of course, but ed doesn't know that.
An Old Lighthouse, A New Dawn by strawberryliqor
Author's summary:
Ed touches his forehead to the nape of Stede’s neck, quietly inhales the faint scent of lavender and sea salt and something uniquely Stede. If they could just exist like this all the time — entwined together within the stone walls of this room — he thinks they could be happy. How they used to be. Though maybe without stupid naivety and the rose-colored glasses they saw each other through. Those had been ripped off long ago.
If they could just...
Or: Ed and Stede are forced to share a bungalow for six months to work through their issues.
all that I am led me to you by profdanglais
Author’s summary:
For ten years, Mary Allamby Bonnet has barely given any thought to her "late" husband Stede. She's been far too busy enjoying her life as his wealthy widow. Until the night that Stede appears at her door, badly wounded, in the arms of the most feared pirate in history.
Until that moment Mary had never truly believed the Wanted posters that claimed Stede as a "known associate" of Blackbeard's. Yet here he is, in her home, less the legendary pirate captain than simply Stede's Ed, a man terrified of losing the love of his life. He won't, though. Not if Mary has anything to say about it.
Or, Mary and Ed nurse Stede back to health and in doing so form a friendship.
A Lighthouse To Each Other; or, Cracking Up On The Rocks by zmayhem
Author’s summary:
What do you do when you've been married nearly a decade and you're still nearly strangers, when you know something has to change even if it means everything falls apart? Maybe you ask the stranger who shares your bed and your life, and you ask yourself, to take a leap and make a gift of as much truth as you can handle. And maybe, as you're trying to figure out how to make that gift of your truth a reality, you fumble closer to truths about yourself you didn't even know.
stories we heard, and others we tell ourselves by CrypticSymbol
Author’s summary:
“One calling card and you come running, is that it?” Izzy had asked, disgust oozing from his voice. Ed noted a hint of disappointment too. He just couldn’t help himself from doing so, it seemed. The renewed adoration that bled out of Izzy just months before had been cauterized.
And it had been more than one calling card, to be fair. Though there was no point in arguing semantics with Izzy Hands.
The previous mysterious parcels had been trinkets and gifts left waiting for him to find, like the least challenging treasure hunt in the history of piracy, but this last one was different.
or, Jeff the Accountant is invited to a masquerade ball, and sometimes it's easier to talk things through when you're Jeff and he's Godfrey Thornrose.
[Podfic link]
Uncommon Peace by stardust_and_sunlight
Author’s summary:
“I think I would like to rest,” Stede said, the sound loud in the stillness of the morning, and Ed looked up at him immediately.
“Oh, of course! You’ve never been stabbed before!”
Stede smiled ruefully. “I admit I’ve never had the pleasure in the past,” he said, and Ed’s face twisted into a look of half-amusement, half-bemusement, the same one he’d worn when he had first seen all Stede’s fine things.
Stede wasn’t sure what it was about what he’d said that had made Ed’s eyes crease like that, but he liked the way it made Ed look.
[Post episode 4. Stede deals with his stab wound, thinks about Ed, and prepares him breakfast.]
prevailing winds by holograms
Author’s summary:
Blackbeard dies in November, 1718.
Then Ed finds himself returned back a year prior, before he met Stede Bonnet. He does it all over again.
(or, Ed falls back in time and tries to make things better, this time around)
Fond Regards by ivyblossoms
Author’s summary:
Stede Bonnet, unexpectedly home after his adventures at sea, writes letters to Ed. He has a lot to process.
Hello, My Old Heart by LadyKyrin
Author’s summary:
In the span of a single second, or maybe even just a half-second, three things happened:
A gun went off.Ed’s blade sliced deep into Chauncey’s throat.
And Stede screamed Ed’s name.
~
Ed comes looking for Stede when he doesn't show up at the dock. When Chauncey shoots Ed, Stede has no choice but to take him to the one place where there's actually a chance they might not be immediately killed or captured: the house he once shared with Mary, Alma, and Louis.
(In which there's a lot of hurt/comfort as Stede tends to an injured Ed, Stede and Ed grow closer as they deal with the various forms of guilt they carry, and Mary and Doug get an unexpected front-row seat to the unlikely romance between the greatest pirate of all time and Mary's sort-of-ex, very-much-not-dead husband.)
all my stumbling phrases by winterkill
Author’s summary:
As the crew of the Revenge learns to read, Ed and Stede learn to grow beyond the mess they made.
Phantom Pain by TallowFallow
Author’s summary:
Why is this happening? How could he still even feel in his pointer finger? Lucius was never the superstitious sort, he'd rather focus on the living, thank you, but could there be a supernatural explanation for this? Is he going insane? Is he being haunted?
-----
Lucius can feel his finger hurting. The one he no longer has.
Ocean Lullabies by charmedward
Author’s summary:
Blackbeard kills kids.
Only the really naughty ones though, the ones who deserved it. That’s what Black Pete had said to Stede, only a few short days before their fated meeting with said infamous pirate captain. It hadn’t really processed at the time, just another barely believable description of the mythical man idolised by Stede’s fanciful employee. It isn’t true. It can’t be. The man standing in front of Stede now has only killed one person, he’d said as much.
But Stede had watched him order the deaths of men. Blackbeard may not have been the one to do it, but his body count was higher than a singular digit. He was perfectly capable of being the monster so many believed him to be.
Stede holds the wailing baby closer. He meets Ed’s expression with one that he hopes is defiant, or determined. Something strong.
“She’s coming with us,” he says and his tone is a challenge.
First, we steal a priest by Elisahni
Author’s summary:
“I just want it to be said, by someone,” said Lucius, “that grave robbing is very 1500s.”
“We’re not digging one up,” said Ed, “I’m not that barbaric! We’ll want a live one. We’re going to steal a priest from a church.”
“Ed,” said Stede, scandalised. “That’s kidnapping!”
“I guess it is. Okay, we’re going on a treasure hunt to kidnap a priest. That’s the plan.”
Ed starts planning the wedding before the proposal; Lucius is having none of it.
my heart could break for a one-legged seagull (that’s bad luck) by thingswithteeth
Author’s summary:
Frenchie was born for this kind of espionage.
A not wholly exhaustive list of all the times Blackbeard tried to kill Stede, and the one time he succeeded (sort of) by wilkiecollins
Author’s summary:
Blackbeard has to kill Stede, so life goes back to normal, but there are a thousand ways to do it, and it keeps going wrong. Alternatively: the one where Stede teaches Ed things and woos him completely off his feet while remaining entirely oblivious.
Comfort Me With Oranges by throughanaquarium
Author’s summary:
Set between "The Art of Fuckery" and "This is Happening." Ed seems uneasy after Izzy's banishment from the ship, so Stede thinks back to the last time he felt loved and tries to recreate that experience for his co-captain.
Or: Justice for Roach's baking skills.
fear not the weather by dotsayers
Author’s summary:
The moon shone through the tree canopy, a break in the clouds as rain continued to pour.
A footprint, rust-red against the earth, gleamed.
“Stede, mate,” he said, as he looked up and saw the line of prints disappearing into the trees. “What the absolute fuck.”
(A rainstorm stops Ed from leaving.)
it will be worth by InkandOwl
Author’s summary:
“Oh.” Ed looks out to the sprawl of land, their friends milling about like the most lackadaisical group of livestock he’s ever seen, but mostly at Stede. Leaned intently in towards Jim while they tell him about their latest adventures into the tropics. “Sometimes I’m afraid I’ve caged a bird.”
“Hmm.” Lucius looks out towards Stede and claps his hands atop his knees, “You think Stede would prefer whatever the fuck it was we were all doing before over this?”
“Piracy?”
Lucius shakes his head aggressively, “That wasn’t piracy, no, no. That was a shit show.”
—
Ed, Stede, and realizing that happiness is the adventure
i’m yours, you know by ShowMeAHero
Author’s summary:
“I think I’ve fucked up,” Stede confesses.
“Yeah,” Lucius tells him, “but don’t take it too hard. I might’ve fucked up, too, if somebody dragged me out of bed to tell me I’d ruined their family, and my own, and destroyed the love of my life’s entire legacy, and then, like— blew their own whole fucking head off. Like, that— I get that, Cap’n. That makes sense.”
Stede nods, keeping his eyes forward. After a beat, he can’t maintain the calm, and he needs the human connection, turning back to look at Lucius. He actually spills over, then, eyes burning.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Lucius comments, but Stede is already carefully standing up so he can bend and hug Lucius without capsizing their vessel.
or: stede saves his crew, draws a duel, and reunites with the love of his life, though he's certain he's going to die every step of the way.
Built in the Human Plan by ItsClydeBitches
Author’s summary:
"What remarkable penmanship you have," he said.
It would be another decade before Ed understood why those words sent his blood to boiling. "Passive aggression" Stede would say, ignorant to the question he'd just answered. Back then, Henderson rolled up his parchment and Ed took note of the way his lip curled at the spilled ink, the careless way he handed off Ed's efforts to some nameless underling.
They made their trade. Henderson went back to his ship. Ed gave Izzy a different gesture and eight hours later it was ash in the harbor.
Or: the one where Stede teaches Ed how to read and it (mostly) turns out fine.
The Art of Taking a Blade by letthesongtakeflight
Author’s summary:
When he got to the mast, it was just him and the insane, brave, brilliant man impaled against it. “I’ll take care of him.”
Their eyes met. Stede drew in a small, quick breath. His eyes pinned Ed to the spot like he was pinned to the mast.
------
Or: Ed pulls Izzy's sword out of Stede.
In The Small Hours by unfolded73
Author’s summary;
In the middle of the night, Stede wrestles with his demons and with telling Ed how he feels. Oluwande helps clarify things for him.
Edelweiss by draculard
Author’s summary:
“Do you know your flower symbolism, Ed?” Stede asked, his voice soft.
Ed shook his head; his eyes never left Stede’s face.
“They might ask you,” said Stede. “So just so you’re prepared, these are lilies. They are the symbol of holiness, of royalty.” He lifted a hand and let the petals touch his fingers, light and ghostly. “The petals are pink-white, representing the purity of the wearer. The pistils are golden, representing your holy soul.”
He met Ed’s eyes, and after a moment — as if he had to force himself — Ed smiled.
“I don’t think there’s anyone alive who thinks my soul is holy,” he said.
Or: Stede's life, told through flowers.
separating salt from water by morian
Author’s summary:
"Hey." Ed reaches across because it's the only thing that feels right. He grasps Stede's wrist and smoothes the pad of his thumb across his knuckles. Stede stops fiddling with his ring and looks up at him, wide-eyed. "This isn't Captain shit. This is God shit. Are you God?"
The room is blank with silence.
Gently, Ed repeats, "Are you God, Stede?"
Stede's voice is thin and high when he answers, "I'm not God."
"And is God here, in this room?"
Comically, Stede looks around like he might find God perched on the edge of his desk, or pulling books from his shelves to examine the spines.
"He's not," Stede concedes.
"That's right, mate. Stupid bugger doesn't associate himself with pirates."
Or: The Revenge has been becalmed for six days. Ed has bigger things to worry about, like sharks and being in love.
heartless by Nanashio7
Author’s summary:
Stede seems determined to win Edward back. It must be why he keeps “accidentally” showing up in Edward’s life.
Izzy scoffs. “He just doesn’t learn, does he? Tell him Blackbeard has no use for apologies.”
“Yeah,” Edward says. “That’s true. I don’t. But also, unrelated to that other thing, what else did he say about me?”
Frenchie blinks. “Um. Nothing? The message came tied to a seagull’s leg so. You know. Not much real estate on those little papers. Can’t write a lot, can you?” He straightens suddenly. “Oh, I still have it!”
He fishes a crumpled, wind-dampened piece of paper from his pocket and drops it into Edward’s hand. When Edward unfurls it, he sees only a series of poorly-drawn images: The Revenge with a little triangle sail, a rope ladder and an arrow, a caricature of Stede looking like he’s crying.
“We really need to teach you guys how to read,” Edward notes.
Presentable by Fyre
Author’s summary:
This was the clothing of the legendary Blackbeard, infamous and deadly pirate. Had anyone told him, weeks ago, that he would be donning Blackbeard’s clothes, he would have been sure they were making fun of him. After all, Blackbeard would trifle with someone as dull and odd as Baby Bonnet.
He couldn’t keep the giddy smile from spreading across his face.
Well, evidently he was quite interesting enough for Blackbeard to like him.
i’ll find a new place to be from by Bebravenow
Stede's heard 'soft' before, heard it his whole life. His father spat it like an insult and his teachers murmured it like it was a condition and his peers said it like it was a joke.
Ed doesn't say it like that, though. He says it like it's a compliment. He says it like it's something worth being.
to thine own self by DragonQuill907
Author’s summary:
“Stede.”
The other man approached cautiously, the look on his face a mixture of fear and awe. Ed tried not to hate himself for inspiring that look.
“Er, yes?” Stede asked. “Edward, is everything all right?”
“Yeah, totally fine,” Ed replied. “Just time for a pirating lesson. This one’s on handling first mates who’re out of line.”
“Oh, I doubt I’ll need that. Mr. Buttons is a fine–”
“Stede. Come hold his mouth open."
Or: an alternate ending to 1.06
He Painted the Stars in the Sky by Parrlen
Author's summary:
"Was there anything that Stede Bonnet couldn't do? He gave importance to everything. Made everything meaningful. Made life less dull.
And again Ed thought that this was the way life ought to be: stars above him, ocean below him, Stede beside him. His guide, his freedom, and his heart. What more could a man need?
At a certain point, Ed stopped looking to the sky, shifting to watch Stede with wonderment instead, rapt in the passionate way he wove his tales, painting the sky into a storied mural. And Ed thought he would be content to be this way with him forever. Even though the dinghy was too small to lay comfortably in, and the hard wood hurt his back, and he really would have killed for a pillow that wasn't a lumpy sack of oranges."
***
In which Stede goes to Ed on the dock, but doesn't immediately tell him what happened, and Ed starts freaking the fuck out about it.
Two middle-aged gay pirates have to figure out how to actually communicate with one another and reckon with their pasts at the same time.
To Capture Every Minute by hopeless_eccentric
Author's summary:
Alma was distracted from her thoughts by an odd look Blackbeard gave her, as if there was something incredibly annoying on the tip of his tongue.
“Anyone ever told you you looked like the Gentleman Pirate?” he finally asked.
She blinked.
“Excuse me?”
in which alma stows away and runs into the crew of the revenge. family shenanigans ensue
Breathe by Harley_Quinn09876
Author's summary:
The Revenge targets a French merchant vessel only to discover the captain is an old flame of Stede's.
Stede, who is struggling with panic attacks and grateful for the distraction, is excited to rekindle an old friendship, but Ed is not so pleased.
Or, the one where Ed gets to take care of Stede this time.
Part 2 of the Pain Management series!
[The whole series is great. This is just my favorite. Podfic link here]
Your Feedback is Important to Us by ElapsedSpiral
Author's summary:
Stede starts holding open cabin hours to allow the crew to air their grievances. It goes about as well as you’d expect.
AKA my “Stede is going to go off like a horny volcano when he finally gets laid” fic.
*
Featuring Stede’s cursed yet sexy moustache, Swede lore and Lucius being altogether too good at his job(s). Unbetaed.
Roach-Centric ficlets by bongbingbong
Author's summary:
Little ficlets about Roach interacting with the rest of the crew, because I love him and there isn't enough fanfic around where he's the main character.
the flight of birds by afterism
Author's summary:
Ed thinks about the short and brutal lives of pirates. Stede introduces Ed to the concept of moisturising, and taking some time for one's self.
Or, Ed's knee hurts and Stede's always keen to help out.
Hoist Up The Thing by KittyHawke
Author's summary:
Stede Bonnet, self-styled Gentleman Pirate and captain of The Revenge, prepares to embark upon adventure on the high seas.
But first there are a few things to take care of, such as remembering everyone's names and finding out what a mainbrace is.
A Good Start by hoc_voluerunt
Author's summary:
How did that marmalade get to the main-top without waking Ed? Maybe Stede just wanted to do something nice.
Gap-filler for episode 4.
[Podfic link here]
Modern AUs
this tired world could change by gangnamstiles
Author’s summary:
One summer day, two unlikely paths cross in the alley behind Bonnet Group’s towering skyscraper: Stede is at the end of his rope, and Ed’s just taking a smoke break. Of course, after they’ve become inseparable, Ed’s past catches up to him as Stede tries to find a way out of his own obligations, and the solace they’ve found in each other is threatened.
“You’re freaking out in here,” Lucius says, shutting the door behind himself. He grabs two rocks glasses from the bar cart and a decanter of the good whisky and sets it all on Stede’s desk.
“Astute,” Stede declares. “I’ve asked Ed on a date.”
“Ooh, Mr. Mechanic?” Lucius simpers, and Stede blushes. “Haven’t you two been dating for weeks?”
“Wh—No, we’re friends!” He says.
“Oh, my God, you can’t be serious,” Lucius says.
Knockout by MooeyDooey
Author’s summary:
Plenty of things can happen when a man reaches his mid life crisis.
Sometimes, he buys something incredibly expensive. He could even adopt a whole new lifestyle, something completely removed from the sort of life he lived before.
In the 1700s, it might make sense for a him to leave his life behind and pursue a new career as a pirate. But what's a man to do when the golden age of piracy happened hundreds of years ago?
In this modern world, there's only one adequate substitute. An underground club in the basement of a bar called 'The Revenge', where a weekly illegal fight club is hosted.
It's the exact sort of lifestyle that Stede Bonnet, a wealthy entrepreneur, is after. Glory. Pride. Acclaim.
He has minimal experience with fighting. But once he meets the reigning champion of the fighting circuit, Blackbeard himself, both of their lives will be changed forever in ways neither of them expected.
$2 taco night by GoldStarGrl
Author’s summary:
The guy in the expensive sports coat and fancy Apple watch has been sitting at the end of the bar since 3 PM.
[Sequel to this previous fic]
one foot in front of the other by GoldStarGrl
Author’s summary:
Stede comes out. His world might even survive it.
An Accomplished Life by scheherazade
Author’s summary:
In the twenty-five years since they graduated from these hallowed halls, Stede's classmates have gone on to hold public office, found multi-million dollar companies, star in Hollywood scandals, patent life-saving vaccines, and—in more than one case—make the front page of the New York Times for destroying an entire country's faith in institutional justice.
Such are the things expected of the best and wealthiest of society.
So when former class secretary Nigel Badminton corners him in the reunion tent during Friday evening drinks, throws a patronizing arm around his shoulders and asks loudly in front of everyone, Whatever have you been up to these days, Bonnet! Enjoying that mad, single lifestyle again?
—
Stede does something he's not proud of. He lies.
—
Stede brings Ed to his twenty-five-year college reunion. [Modern AU]
A Comprehensive Menu of Blackbeard’s Craft Cocktails by the_bedheaded_league
Author’s summary:
Stede's a middle-aged businessman going through a divorce, and he desperately needs a drink. He ends up at Blackbeard's: a charming little bar (that's technically not a gay bar but kind of is a gay bar) with nautical décor, classic rock, excellent cocktails, and a very pretty bartender who wears crop tops and leather.
Soon Stede becomes a regular, and obviously he just likes going there because the cocktails are great.
Definitely no other reason.
Our Dice Mean Death. by Mystrothedefender
Author’s summary:
Stede, a rooky DM, feels his players are losing interest in his campaign. He reaches out to a more experienced DM to try and improve, and ends up finding out more about himself than he expected to.
Blackbeard’s recipes by FullThrive
Author’s summary:
Stede discovers cooking, happiness and maybe more when he finds Blackbeard's cooking blog.
AU : Ed is a food blogger and Stede is a fan
Somewhere Beyond the Sea by ClaireKerzner
Salvage diver Ed Teach is no stranger to the story of Blackbeard and the Queen Anne's Revenge- after all, the famous pirate is a distant ancestor. But then Professor Stede Bonnet, maritime archaeologist and many-times-great-grandson of the original, waltzes through the door of his shop and requests his services in finding the wreck. What are the odds?
Ed's had enough of the cutthroat world of salvage diving, and he's this close to leaving it all behind. But Bonnet's quest sparks an interest he hasn't felt in years, and he agrees to help the oddly charming man. Nothing to do with the fact that the Queen Anne might just be the last treasure trove Ed needs to escape his life. Definitely nothing to do with the way Bonnet's cheerful enthusiasm makes his heart skip a beat.
Together they'll hunt for the wreck... and then they'll reckon with what comes next.
Conflict of Interest by ElapsedSpiral
Author's summary:
“You get it, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Stede said, reflexively. “I think I do.”
Ed looked pleased at that. “I think you do too.”
Ed and Stede crash into one another, literally and figuratively. Things get worse (and better) from there.
Lawyer!Stede/Businessman!Ed AU, unbetaed.
most of the time i'm just getting older (but i'll get to heaven standing on your shoulders) by jimboy
Author's summary:
“There’s a new English teacher.” Lucius was standing in front of the doors to the classroom when Edward returned from the staff room for third period.
“Is that right? Haven’t seen him.” He sighed, moving past him into the classroom. “Is he nice?”
“He’s a bit mental. But like, in a cool way. I guess.”
Ed wasn’t really listening, rummaging through drawers looking for the A-Level scripts. “Uh huh.”
“Jamie Ritchie called Shakespeare a slur and he took him outside and screamed at him for 12 minutes.”
He paused and turned around. “Did he now?”
--
Ed teaches Drama at a private school for boys and does nothing else but smoke weed and rot with his best (and only) friend, Izzy. That is until a newly divorced English teacher with a passion for Shakespeare and fighting homophobia sweeps into his life.
Date for Sale by journeytogallifrey
Author's summary:
When Stede put out the advertisement for a man, it was very late at night and he was very, very drunk.
Seeking: intimidating man to conduct himself poorly at an elite dinner party this Christmas. Tattoos, piercings a plus. Must be comfortable speaking out of turn and using the wrong cutlery for at least one course. Rate of pay negotiable – role involves engaging with somewhat difficult personages and you will be compensated accordingly. Note that you will be posing as another man’s romantic partner; homophobes need not apply.
---
Frustrated by his rich, bigoted family, Stede Bonnet advertises for a man to be his fake date when he faces them at Christmas. Tattooed biker Edward Teach responds. But somewhere between planning amazing pranks and teaching Ed about society, Stede begins to fall for him. Could Ed ever feel the same?
I've Never Felt So at Home by lookinglass
Author's summary:
“Uh oh, there goes your boyfriend,” Lucius called. He nodded toward the front windows.
Stede turned from the wall he was papering in time to see a handsome, long haired man striding out into the parking lot. Today he was wearing a short black shirt, and his many tattoos were on full display. The man mounted a motorcycle and kicked it on with a low grumble that could be heard even inside the building.
“Think you’ll ever just say hello to him?” Lucius asked. “Maybe casually park your car by his bike, happen to be walking in as he’s leaving work, say, ‘oh hello, very cool gentleman in your leather outfit, my name’s Stede, I enjoy staring at your arse through the windows every day—”
“Oh, leave him alone,” Oluwande interrupted. “Stede’ll talk to him when he’s ready. Or he won’t.”
--
Or, in which Stede comes out in his forties and jumps head first into the queer community, even if he's still a little too intimidated to talk to the handsome guy who runs the tattoo shop a few doors down.
Trade Descriptions Act by ElapsedSpiral
Author's summary:
Ed finds Stede Bonnet's Filofax and tries being Stede Bonnet on for size. It's going okay until he meets the real Stede Bonnet.
A deeply stupid modern take on the "Ed wants to steal Stede's identity" idea. Unbetaed.
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hi. hello. this is a bit embarrassing but i'm trying to buy my bf a tablet sort of thing so he can draw his arts. he's been wanting one forever but hasn't rly shown me which one he wants. i want to surprise him n buy a good one worth the money n was just curious if you had any suggestions. i've looked into wacom products, but i'm just such a noob to these things n was hoping you can help... i understand if this is silly, you don't have to reply! ur just so amazing, ur opinion is trustworthy 😅☺️
Okay, so, this is just my opinion and since it’s based completely on personal experiences it’s gonna possibly be incredibly different from other people’s opinions, so I just wanna make clear from the start that this is a personal preference and isn’t in any way meant as an absolute truth
Anyway, as far as I’m concerned when you’re just starting out you don’t need anything fancy at all. As an aspiring digital artist your bf might have looked up tablets and cried tears of blood over how much he’d like a cintiq or anything similar, but my very personal opinion is that fancy stuff is gonna be pretty much useless to you and be generally a waste of money? You’re just learning, you don’t need anything more than the basics. My suggestion is that you pick something simple and easy to use - I own this wacom intuos, had it for a long while and I like it a lot, but there’s also less expensive options you can go for too that people seem to like just as much! I’ve lately read on my dash about the Huion H610, they say it doesn’t cost much at all but it’s just as good as the Intuos, that could be a good option for you~
Anon said: Hey!!! I was wondering if its ok to rb your oc art? I realized a lot less people rb those and i get anxious easily so... also i really don't want to disrespect either! But i always thought of rebloging as a way of saying "i appreciate your art" and i really really (really ) like yours (both the style and itself in general). (I hope you dont mind my bad english ha ha) i hope you don't mind this stupid ask! Im still kind of new to tumblr
It’s 100% okay!!!! *O* Thank you for liking them enough to want to reblog them ;A; !!!!
Anon said:i miss ur bokuroteru so much 😭💕 i love ur art but whenever i see ur header, i just remember ur bokuroteru comic and my heart cries storms for them to be seen again.
Aw anon I’m super happy you like my stuff for those three but as of now inspiration in that department is... super low... and tbh the haikyuu fandom is being incredibly unresponsive and non-vocal about their appreciation of fanworks in this period so even when I do have ideas for that fandom I sort of. Let them go. Or just sketch them out and never finish them.
Like, you know the whole deal about having to draw for yourself and not for others? That’s what I do 100% of the times when I’m starting a drawing, but to draw for myself I don’t exactly need to finish a drawing, you know? Sometimes there’s a scene I wanna see and I sketch it out in a super rough way and as far as my personal desire to see it goes I’m satisfied with that, and everything after that - the cleaning and lining and maybe even coloring - I put the effort in it because I want to share it with people. And the deal with the Hq!! fandom lately is that they don’t share my excitement for it. They either only like it, or don’t comment on it, or comment only to complain about this or that thing. In the worst case posting hq!! only ends up with people asking me to draw something else (ie I feel like drawing Karasuno so I draw it and post it and no one comments/rb/says anything about it but there’s 20 asks in my inbox asking me why I haven’t drawn any bok*ro lately)
When I think about posting stuff for hq lately I automatically compare it to posting stuff for bnha where I could draw a background character that appeared once 120 chapters ago and there’s still gonna be people that go “yes! that character!! I love that character!!! can’t believe there’s actual art for it oh my god!!!!” - that’s... that’s the sort of reaction that makes you wanna share stuff
I dunno, maybe I’m just expecting too much out of the hq fandom. But anyway, sharing for bnha makes me way happier and glad I decided to finish a drawing lately, so I guess that’s what’s happening there.
Anon said:Every time your soft doods art shows up on my dash I have to pause and take a deep breath and just thank god for all the good in the world because I'm blown away every single time
This is s o s w e e t oh my god ;A; thank you so much!!!!
Anon said:Johnny is a fucking angel dammit. Have you read the new DGM already?? I'm in tears. I love this manga so much. The frequency of the releases are killing me... it has such a great story and great characters. It needs more love
I did read it!!!! And yeah the fandom used to be way bigger, but honestly I’m glad it’s just the couple dozens people it is. Like a small town where everyone knows everyone else. No drama, no discourse. Everyone ships what they want and we all pass each other tissues to dry the tears. The only argument that happens regularly is people complaining about the relase schedule and the old fans telling them to let Hoshino live. A good place, this fandom’s a good place.
DGM was my playground for most of my experimenting as far as creating art goes, I really did reach in all directions with it through the years and it helped me shape myself a lot, so I really want it to stay quiet and nice and peaceful, that’s my dream for it haha smaller fandoms have a better chance to keep that freedom
Anon said: Oh man, I live for that Togata x Amajiki interaction
You talking about the color spread cause yes that was adorable!!! ;A;
Anon said:I look a little, and do you still draw Bakugo x Kirishima x Kaminari?
Sure, it’s still my main ship for Kaminari and my main ot3! Just wait for Denki to start being relevant in the manga again, I’ll probably fall headfirst into it all over again haha
Anon said:Your art is so wonderful you're wonderful everything's so wonderful i'm crying omg
SOB no anon you’re wonderful!!!!
Anon said:Due to my brain not wanting to cooperate with me (ever), Bakugou Katsuki is now Batsuki Katsuki in my head.
This is the funniest thing I’ve read today and I’m in t e a r s hahaha
Anon said:Artistic!Mina making pop art and colorful paintings :o what are ur thoughts
HELL YES that’s my main headcanon for Mina, she’s definitely an artsy girl!!! I like the idea of her sharing it with Bakugou t b h
Anon said:I'm still just repeatedly looking at your newest KiriBaku because hot damn.
I’m super glad you liked it!!!!!!! oh my gOD!!!!!!!
Anon said:Heyy please rec Kami comics please! I'm in a Kami art shortage and I currently can't find art as awesome as yours...
I’m so sorry I wish I could help you with this but I don’t know anyone who draws lotsa Kaminari either ;---;
#fran answers#about the tablet#personally i started with a tablet that wasn't a wacom#it was okay to learn the basics but it lasted maybe six months top#and then i had to change it#which is why now im sorta wary about giving my money to other brands#considering that after that i only bought two tablets#both wacoms#and technically i didn't even have to change the first one my family just bought me a new one out of the blue#so yeah people can say whatever they want about wacom but they ARE quality and durable#that said that experience with other brands happened over ten years ago#and the brand wasn't great anyway#so like it's totally possible that new brands are WAY better#check for the reviews! most people are saying they love them#so i guess if your budget is limited you CAN go for another brand#the one i linked is pretty damn huge too im#really tempted to buy it myself t b h#anonymous
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Professor Layton Iceberg Explanation
As I said in the tags of the original, the iceberg I made was a meme consisting of both real theories and satire/parodies/fandom memes. If anyone is interested, I can work on an unironic version that only has real theories.
Buckle in because this post is LONG and heavily saturated with lore and information.
Actual theories
Parallel universe 1960s where the world wars didn’t happen. There’s an unused file in Curious Village that shows the year as 1960 and the time machine from UF is set to 1973, ten years into the future. The series canonically takes place in an undefined time period (hence the technological inaccuracies and fantasy elements), but it’s based off the 60s. There’s more evidence but we don’t have time to go over every little thing. I linked my “no wars” theory below but TL;DR the outdated airplanes and underdeveloped medicine in the Layton series imply that the world wars may never have happened. https://cayenne-twilight.tumblr.com/post/632205992162099200/outofcontextdiscord-timegearremix-zonosils-war
The real meaning behind the statue in Future London. In UF, the purpose of the statue is to spark Layton and Luke’s conversation about their friendship. Luke is stressing out about moving overseas and sees himself and the professor in the story behind the statue, but in the bigger picture, Clive must have been the one to commission it. Some theorize that the little boy is Clive and the man is either his father or the professor. One idea I’ve seen is that Clive wishes he could be Luke for real, while another is that he wishes he died ten years ago, and another is that he’s literally terminally ill explaining why he doesn’t care about consequence. Personally, I think “the boy succumbed to his illness” refers to his mental illness seeing as he wanted the professor to save him from his madness as he saved him all those years ago.
True location of Monte D’Or. there are no deserts on the British isles to my knowledge, so it makes the most sense for Monte D’Or to be in Southwest USA where English is the default language, they have a desert, and there exists a city famous for flashy hotels, casinos, and entertainment. What makes it odd is that nobody ever mentions overseas travel, and all the major characters are from England.
Loosha’s origins are not explicitly explained if I remember correctly, but the implication was that her prehistoric (supposedly) species was sealed away along with the garden, allowing them to survive all the way to the time of LS until Loosha was the only one left. The garden provided a good habitat and protection from predators, and it’s logical that they’d slowly die out anyways, but there’s no explanation of any specific factors that led to Loosha being the last.
Beasley is not a bee I wrote a post about this one as well, but TL;DR Beasly lacks several defining bee traits whilst having several human ones. He is not human, yet, by definition, not a bee. It’s possible that he is the result of Dimitri’s testing, but whatever his untold story is, he remains an enigma of nature. https://cayenne-twilight.tumblr.com/post/632381715250282496/theory-beasly-isnt-a-bee
Subject 2’s identity is currently unknown. There is a subject one (parrot) and subject 3 (rabbit) so there has to be a second. For a long time, people suspected Beasly to be him seeing as he’s a bit of an amalgamation and definitely not a regular bee (see above). After the release of LMJ, though, people began to suspect Sherl, the intelligent hound who could speak to certain people but not others. That being said, it’s possible for one to be subject 4. Sherl’s memory of a bright flash matches up with subject 3’s memory of being electrocuted. They never explain why the animals were being experimented on, but it was probably Dimitri making sure the conditions of his machine were safe for humans before reliving the incident from ten years ago.
Lady Violet died from the plague from DB. There’s no evidence for this or anything, it’s just an idea. People say she died from the flu but I don’t remember them saying that in the game, at least the US version. Extending off my “no war” theory: it’s theorized that the Spanish Flu was spread by the travlelling soldiers, so if that’s true, it’s possible for the epidemic to have been averted for some decades. Maybe the Spanish Flu reached England later than in real life. The hole in this is that DB’s plague must’ve been close in time to 1918 while Violet’s death was much later, so it would’ve had to stick around.
Bill Hawks is working with Targent and Arthur Cantabella. There was a force in the shadows buying the time machine technology from Bill. Someone with a ton of money who helped him cover up a freak accident and get away with it completely, a feat that involved shady means like violence by hired thugs. Some theorize that it was Targent, seeking power over time in exchange for a little mafia magic. The Labarynthia project was sponsored by the UK government, so as the PM, Bill must’ve known about it. He probably supported dubiously ethical, high stakes (witch pun) psychological experiments like Cantabella’s and helped him stay in the shadows.
All the NPCs in St. Mystere and Folsense are dead. I make fun of this type of theory later, but they’re admittedly captivating. I’m pretty sure the canon in CV is that the villagers are Bruno and Augustus’s OCs that they made robots of and built a town around, but it’s more interesting to think that the village was there before, and the townspeople died of a plague and were replaced like Lady Violet. In Folsense, there really was a plague and they never explain the NPCs there. They’re either real people who appear way younger than they are due to hallucinations (even the ones who already look old ?), or they don’t exist at all, which is pretty spooky. This part of the story is a gaping plot hole. In a similar vein to CV, the edgy yet plausible theory is that they used to live in Folsense but died of the plague and now live on as hallucinations.
Hershel seeing everything as a puzzle is a coping mechanism for all his trauma. This was a joke but I thought about it for more than five seconds and it makes way too much sense.
Plot holes and unexplained questions that we like to overthink because it’s fun
The downfall of the Azran was vaguely explained in canon by people being so greedy that it lead to the civilization collapsing. It’s not a stretch to imagine that happening, but it would’ve been more interesting with a little more detail.
Layton and Luke are programmed to routinely forget how to walk. I didn’t know whether to list this in the joke section or not, but it’s odd that the characters actively participate in the walking tutorial (as opposed to showing a little memo to the player) as if they didn’t know how to before, especially when they go through this several times a year.
The truth behind Pavel. He’s simply a joke character who teleports, is a polyglot (sort of, at least he wants us to think he is) and is mega confused all the time. He’s a fun character to make crack theories about because of his cryptic nature that even he doesn’t seem to understand.
Miracle Mask deleted scenes. The first trailer for MM featured animations that were not in the final game. One was the Randall falling scene, except in a slightly different style than the one we know. Others were completely foreign, like Layton and Luke pacing across a theatre stage as if Layton’s about to expose someone with a dramatic point. Cut content and “could’ve beens” are always curious to think about.
Evan Barde: secret mastermind. Arianna and Tony’s dad is a mysterious character who died under mysterious circumstances. I think the canon is that his death was a genuine accident, but concept art of him making a creepy evil face suggests that maybe he originally had a larger role in the first drafts of LS than the finished game.
The secret to how Paul and Des pull off their disguises is unclear and will remain unclear. There is no plausible explanation for their shape shifting. Unless Paul is just a little dude wearing a human suit like that one Wizard of Oz species and Des is the best quick-changer ever and hides his naturally feminine legs under his cloak.
Alfendi’s mom. When LBMR came out people scrambled to piece together who Hershel had a kid with, but there’s no way alfendi is his biological son. This happened with Kat as well and her biological parents turned out to be brand new characters, so I’m sure Al will get an adoption backstory if his arc continues, be his parents old major characters or nameless, faceless NPCs.
Granny Riddleton and Stachenscarfen are omnipotent deities. Idk which section this fits best under, but these two characters have some serious power. At first introduction, they’re implied to be robots, but they appear everywhere in later games. They follow the Professor wherever he goes and assist him on his adventures, GR collecting puzzles and housing them by some odd magic, and Stachen teaches you how to walk. They both introduce and supervise the gameplay. By extension, I guess this idea could apply to Albus as well in the prequels. GR and Stachen even had the power to appear in LMJ, something no major character could do. I consider them akin to the velvet room attendants from the Persona games.
Clive’s kill count is a vague subject in the game for the sake of keeping it PG. I don’t know if anyone’s ever mathematically estimated the damage he caused, and I sure don’t want to try, but the game appears to push the idea that he didn’t kill anyone at all, saying they stopped him in the nick of time and things like that, even though we watch him raze the city. If they ever want to bring him back post-time skip, I can see them twisting it so that the mobile fortress cutscene wasn’t a linear sequence of events, but instead a compilation of scenes over the course of hours so that London neighborhoods around him could be evacuated and have it make sense. Knowing Level-5, it’s more likely that they wouldn’t think this deep and do something more lazy, though.
Memes and references
Post-time skip Flora is real references the famous L is real theory from Super Mario 64. Like Luigi in SM64, Flora was also a highly anticipated character who didn’t appear in a new game, in this case LMJ or LMDA. In the end, Luigi did become real in the DS port so hopefully Flora is real will be realized as well.
Hershel can’t read is a veteran fandom meme referring to how in the first few games, especially Curious Village, Layton asks Luke to read every document out loud for him. Perhaps this was an exercise to improve Luke’s reading skills and independent thinking, or perhaps he was just too lazy or preoccupied to do it himself, but this grew into the joke that our genius Professor was actually illiterate this whole time.
Layton’s smash invitation is hidden in PLvsAA. It’s no secret that the fandom would kill a man to get the Professor into the smash brothers franchise. In PLvsAA one of the puzzle artworks features a goat eating a familiar white envelope with a red stamp, sparking the joke that either Layton or Wright got the invitation their respective fans desired, but it got lost along the way.
The science board is the mysteriously vague organization Don Paolo got kicked out of for the crime of being evil. It’s the epitome of liberal arts majors and art school graduates trying to bs their way around not knowing any science and failing miserably. “He was very good at all the sciences, but then the CEO of science told him to stop because he was using the power of science for evil science”. They do this again when “Dr. Stahngun” describes his time machine what with the soolha coils and whatnot.
Hoogland is death cult initiation is a parody of “Mario 64 is Freemason initiation” which is ridiculous, just like the creepy human sacrifice subplot of AL.
You can see the reflection of someone watching you in Aurora’s eye references the famous, creepy Talking Angela theory. In retrospect it would’ve been funnier if I said Angela instead of Aurora.
Every copy of Professor Layton is personalized references the famous “every copy of Super Mario 64 is personalized”
Clive’s fat ass in HD is a meme that originated from the announcement of UFHD, saying that half of the excited fans wanted to cry again while the other half were simply attracted to Clive. If we want to enter real bottom-section-of-the-iceberg-chart territory then let’s say Clive’s character has some sort of psychological siren properties that draw people to him like a magnet and/or Harry Styles.
Things I pulled out of my ass for shits and giggles
Infinite hint coin hack: I’m sure a tech savvy cheater could hack the game for infinite hint coins, but there’s no easy or interesting way. I don’t know why someone would do that though, considering a lot of the hints suck and there are puzzle guides on the internet.
Cringy, unused Randall villain monologue. This joke is derived from the actual scrapped MM content as well as deleted content being a popular element of iceberg charts, but it’s sadly not real. Would’ve been hilarious, though.
Last Specter Puzzle 031: Light Height tracks and records children’s intelligence level. It doesn’t, but it’s always fun to make fun of arguably THE most ridiculously difficult puzzle in the franchise. (Seriously, do they expect 7+ year olds to know trigonometry???)
Hershel struggles with tea addiction. Hershel from the games drinks tea in moderation, but the manga begs to differ. He has a tea set in the Laytonmobile, and an attempt at teatime while driving causes him to crash.
Folsense is a metaphor for Alzheimer’s. This is inspired by those edgy kids’ show theories where everyone’s in hell or something, but nobody has ever said this.
London Life is reality and the plot of the games is all in Luke’s head. That’s one way to fill every plot hole. How funny would it be if Luke made up crazy characters and stories based off his fellow townspeople Sharkboy and Lavagirl style. “This dude who lives in a castle and asks people to give him all their money for nothing in return is a vampire from 50 years ago involved in a tragic love story”.
Secret ending encoded into Tago’s Head Gymnastics. It’d be crazy if there was, and Dimitri would hound Tago for the secret to time travel. If you didn’t know, the Layton games started as an adaption of Akira Tago’s puzzle series, except they decided to add a story to make it more interesting and marketable.
Daily puzzles datamine your DS. I’m bad with technology but is it even possible to datamine a DS??? Idk, but I think my DS lite from 2008 is safe.
#professor layton#layton series#hershel layton#layton#pl#luke triton#flora reinhold#randall ascot#descole#clive dove#aurora azran#granny riddleton#stachenscarfen#pavel#beasly#evan barde#bill hawks#Arthur Cantabella#targent#whoever tf else seriously hoo boy#this took HOURS#I will reblog and tag everyone interested tomorrow#but now I will go sleepy and hope this gets spread around so people who wanted this info would see it#if anyone wants to add serious theories or link posts about them go ahead#tw swearing#long post#like LONG long post#I suppose this is useful as a reference for fanfics and stuff
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Title: Crown For Two {1}
Henry Cavill AU x OFC Xari Thornton AU
Warning: Plot, Mild Cursing, Cheesy Christmas Themes,
Words: 6.1k
Summary: Xari Thornton is a travel photographer with a blog and social media that garners some heavy-duty traffic. People tune in to see where she is and what she’s doing there, all in hopes of either living vicariously through her or to plan their next vacation.
Her slogan; “Traveling the path to the most off-beaten places, so you don’t have to.”
Her next stop on her four destination travel itinerary of “Places You May Never Have Heard Of” is Sandvell, a small European country. When her plane makes an impromptu stop due to bad weather, she has no idea where she is. It feels like she’s stepped inside of a snow globe and back in time in a modern way. It leaves her fascinated.
This bad weather forces her to stay at an Inn, The Beaux, for the night. Rather than letting the hours tick by in her room, she explores and meets the friendly locals. While taking photographs, one local in particular captures her lens with eyes as blue as the ocean and a jaw that was chiseled from stone. They strike up conversation during their time drinking at one of the local bars, Ickles. Once they separate, she gets herself into a harrowing situation.
As soon as she awakens, she realizes she’s not in some fever dream, but a palace and the owner of the palace is none other than the local she met before with the piercing blue eyes, His Royal Highness Henry Wellington Leopold Danglishton, First of his name, Crown Prince of Brexendor.
Note: All right, all right people, the ride begins. I really, really hope you enjoy this. As a note, it’s going to be fast-paced a bit, and I am gonna overload you with pictures because why the hell not, it’s a Christmas Fic. 😁 Feel free to come by and tell me what you guys think.
As always, thank you all for reading, I appreciate each and every one of you.
If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️
***Loosely Edited/Proofread***
***Interactive***
***Picture Heavy***
Chapter One
“You were supposed to be on your way home.”
You rolled your eyes as you scoffed. You’d mentioned nights ago that you thought you should just go home, but then you went to your next destination. It was a moment of weakness or it could have been loneliness. Your schedule took a lot out of you. No one saw it because it was all behind the scenes. All anyone ever saw were the incredible places you went to, the fun things you experienced, and the culture you soaked up. What they grasped was whatever you posted in your pictures.
“You know I can’t. I started this series, and it’s gotten the eye of a lot of sponsors, and one of them is even talking about some really big ideas at the end of it if it goes really well. that could be incredible for my brand,” you explained.
Anika sighed loudly. You knew she was annoyed with you right now, especially it being December.
“I know you’re disappointed. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Whatever.”
“Attention, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. It looks like we’re headed right into a storm. We’ll be experiencing a little turbulence as we veer off course a little bit as we try to evade this thing. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”
You sighed while buckling your seatbelt, preparing for what was coming.
“What’s happening?”
“Going through some turbulence. It should be fine,” you assured your sister.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to hang up.”
You nodded to the flight attendant and promptly ended the call promising your sister that you’d call her back when you landed in Sandvell. As soon as you hung up, the turbulence began. It started out with slight bumps, that you could sip your drink through. Then graduated to bigger bumps that had you gripping the elbow rests. When the entire plane started to shake, your heart leaped into your throat. One minute passed, then two, and after five minutes or so, the speaker came back on.
“Ladies and gentleman, your captain again. We’re going to be landing shortly. This storm is not one to be messed with. I apologize for the inconvenience, folks, but on this airline, we choose safety above all else.”
You weren’t going to argue with him. You definitely didn’t want to risk your life over getting to your next destination. What was a one or two day delay? Once the pilot got to a lower altitude, the majority of the turbulence subsided. It was another ten minutes before the plane landed, but when it did, all you could see from the window was white overcast with darkness.
When you had your belongings gathered and began walking off the plane along with the other fifty or so passengers, you tried to find cell service, but you had zero bars.
“Excuse me, where are we?”
“Uh—I’m actually not sure, ma’am. Patricia, where are we?”
The two flight attendants looked puzzled. The second asked a third, and that third asked another. None of them seemed to know. That was not a good sign, you thought. Once you’d walked down the long corridor that served as the connection between the airport and the plane, you found yourself in one of the classiest airports you’d ever been in, and you’d been inside quite a few as a travel blogger. As far as the eye could see, it was class, with the exception of the floor.
You looked around you and marveled at the detail in the design that was around you. Where most airports were mainly logically designed without lavishness. This one looked like lavishness was the first priority. The floors looked to be made from the finest paonazzetto marble. You remembered the name because of the substantial time you’d spent in Italy trying to capture architecture through your camera lens. Reaching for your camera around your neck, you began snapping a few frames of the floor. Getting lost in picture taking, you found yourself at one of the many glass windows snapping pictures of the airplanes on the tarmac.
Hearing the commotion of raised voices behind you, you looked back and saw the passengers of the plane you’d just disembarked from gathered in a huddle. You walked back toward them in time to catch a question from a concerned passenger.
“How long are we delayed? When will we get back in the air? I have to get to Sandvell.”
A man wearing a mixture of royal blue and white colors cleared his throat then spoke. “I apologize, ladies and gentlemen, for the delay. There is a storm heading right for us on the path to Sandvell. Continuing through it would be lunacy. Our only viable option is to wait it out.”
No one seemed to like that answer. All the questions flew out at once. All their voices overlapped, and you could tell that the gentleman was overwhelmed by not only the volume of questions but also their voices.
“According to our team here, we’re expecting possibly a twenty-four to thirty-six-hour delay.”
Everyone groaned in unison, everyone but you. You’d traveled enough to always expect the unexpected. Things like this didn’t bother you so much now, three years into your career. The only thing that bothered you now was that you’d have to rearrange your hotel plans as well as finding somewhere to sleep tonight.
“You said here,” you began with all eyes trained to you. “Where exactly is here?”
The gentleman cleared his throat again. “Brexendor.”
The crowd murmured as they looked at each other. Clearly, no one had ever heard of Brexendor. Some even pulled out their travel map to scour it for the country.
“So what are we supposed to do now? Where do we stay?”
“We are in the process of arranging accommodations at one of the inns within the capital. If you all would work with us so we have your names to get your luggage to you in a timely fashion so you can be shuttled over to the Inn, that would be appreciated.”
Everyone filed into a line in front of one of the four airport staff, hoping to hurry matters along while you searched your phone for any information on where you were. When you typed in Brexendor into the search engine, the first thing that popped up was a map of the country. Apparently, it was next door to Sandvell. They were considered sister countries.
“Population three million, run as a monarchy, considered one of the wealthiest countries in the world. Average life expectancy one hundred and ten years. Well, damn.”
Someone clearing their throat brought your attention up in front of you. You were next in line.
“Sorry.”
The woman with brown eyes and blonde hair smiled warmly. “It’s all right, Ms--.”
“Uh, Thornton, Xari Thornton.” You handed her your passport and boarding pass and waited as she scrolled through her tablet.
“Ah yes, Ms. Thornton. Here is your paperwork. On it, you will find where you can retrieve your luggage and the shuttle number that will be taking you to the Inn. Once at the Inn, just provide your name, and you will find everything has been taken care of. On behalf of Brexendor Aviation, we humbly apologize for this snafu.”
Her customer service training was on point, you thought. Her smile was warm, as if she really meant the words she’d just said. Finding it refreshing, you took the paperwork and proceeded to where she was motioning. Everyone you passed as you walked the fancy halls had a warm smile plastered to their face and even warmer words of welcome. You felt as if you’d stepped through into some alternate universe. You made a voice note about everything you encountered. You wanted to make sure you captured your authentic feelings and reactions in real-time. It made writing about your experience on the blog page easier. You’d even found that readers and supporters liked the play by play with your added thoughts. They commented it added personality.
Once you’d made it to the baggage claim area, your jaw dropped at the change in décor. There were Christmas trees that sparsely decorated the space, and they were all lit with the same blue, silver, and white theme. It contrasted with the latte color of the leather seats and the cream offset tables. The design gave the space an elegant but also comfortable vibe. When you slipped into one of the chairs, you released an audible moan. It was like sitting on a cloud.
After gathering your luggage, you followed instructions through a hall lined with Christmas trees, stopping every so often to take a few pictures before you made it to the front of the airport. As you stepped outside, your eyebrows shot up seeing the fresh snow cascading from the sky. The bite in the air had you bundling your jacket tighter, but it did not stop you from snapping a few pictures. One turned to ten and ten to fifteen until another person clearing their throat brought you back to reality and to the waiting bus ahead of you.
You took a break from pictures and called the hotel in Sandvell, hoping to alter the dates of your stay. What you expected to be a hassle and a long drawn out process ending in them saying they were booked and nothing could be done, turned out to be quick, easy, and painless. The Luxembourg Hotel assured you that your room would still be available and there would be no charge for the altered dates. You made another note on your phone, a point you had to stress when you wrote your piece.
You continued snapping pictures from the window of the bus with an easy mind. Everything you passed seemed like it didn’t belong. It all looked so old fashioned but so modern all at the same time. The buildings looked to have been standing since the beginning of time in the materials they’d been built in, but the displays were from the twenty-first century. It was the most exciting contradiction. The only word you could think to describe it was—quaint.
When the bus drove over a bridge, you got a semi-bird’s eye view of the town across the water, and your jaw nearly dropped.
“Brexendor? What the hell?”
The entire drive had you widening your eyes like a child seeing an insane amount of presents on Christmas morning. Buildings were decked out in Christmas lights, and every door had a wreath with blue and silver Christmas ornaments. Almost every few feet, the sidewalks were decorated with poinsettia trees that were half the average human’s height, and the way the freshly fallen snow-dusted their tops only made it even more perfect.
By the time the bus stopped, you’d taken so many pictures, and part of you was dreading having to go through them to choose the ones that would make the cut. You knew it was going to be a next to impossible decision. As you stepped off the bus, you felt like you’d walked right into a snow globe.
“Holy shit!”
You spun, taking in a full three-sixty view of your surroundings. all the glistening lights and the falling snow only made it feel even more magical. You didn’t know where the hell Brexendor was or why the hell they rolled like this, but you were excited to see more. When you stopped spinning, you realized several other people were snapping pictures and looking just as marveled as you were. After gathering your luggage, you followed instructions and walked across the street to the building that a friendly looking man with slightly greying hair was standing before beckoning you inside.
For the second time that night, you felt as if you’d stepped into a Christmas movie set. The interior was set so cozy. It felt like a Christmas cottage, and you loved it. Instinct had you reaching for your camera and taking a few shots of the Christmas tree in the corner by the fireplace and the plaid decorations on the leather couch. Even the pictures on the walls got a snap.
“Miss?”
Looking back to the owner, you smiled and approached the desk.
“Hi, I’m so sorry. This place is so gorgeous.”
“Thank you. I wish I could take the credit, but it is all my wife.”
Just then, a beautiful brunette came out wearing a bright red sweater and one of those spoof reindeer antler headbands that bounced with every move.
“Hi, there darling. Welcome to The Beaux. I’m Anita, and this is my husband, Borik. I heard all about your ordeal. I’m so sorry.”
You shrugged but kept your smile plastered on your face.
“It’s all right. Can’t control the weather, right?”
Anita smiled and nodded. “Definitely not in Brexendor.”
“I have never heard of this place before, and I am lost how. Everything is gorgeous and so quaint. How have you stayed under the radar?”
Anita and Borik looked at each other with an all-knowing look that you wanted in on.
“Guess it’s just happened,” Anita cheerfully said.
You knew they knew something. Staying this under the radar, including from America, didn’t just happen. This took work. You wondered who in charge in their right mind would make a stupid decision like that.
“Okay, what’s your name, darling?”
“Uh, Xari Thornton.”
“Ah-ha, I told you, Borik. Once we were contacted with a list of names that would be checking in, and I saw your name, I told him I just know she’s gorgeous and look. You are a vision.”
You couldn’t help but smile widely while trying to keep your head under proper proportions.
“Thank you.”
“You must have quite the many suitors where you’re from,” Anita continued.
You snorted and shook your head. The reality was you were as single as the number one with no prospects.
“No suitors here.”
Both Borik and Anita looked shocked, as if you’d said the most appalling thing.
“That can’t be true. Borik. She’s single and at twenty-eight. Even our Kennedy was at least engaged by the time she turned twenty-seven. Here that is unheard of. A woman is usually married by twenty-four, especially if she’s a looker.”
You pinched your lips, trying to keep your laughter in. this was not the first time you’d been called an old maid. Hell, your mother said it often, especially since you flat out turned down Maurice’s proposal three months ago. She was livid.
Anita must have sensed the awkwardness of the moment because she cleared her throat and brought all her attention back to the reservation.
“Well, your room is prepared. I took the liberty of giving you one of our prettiest rooms. Would you like Borik to carry your bags up?”
“Uh—no, I’m sure I can manage,” you began.
Borik stood, shook his head, and came around to you.
“I won’t hear a thing about it. I’ll happily carry your luggage up. Follow me.”
“That’s my Borik, ever the gentleman,” Anita filled in with an enamored smile before Borik walked off, leaving her to check in a few of the other passengers from the plane.
You listened to Borik tell the story of the Inn and how it got its name. You kept one ear on his story while you took in every detail around you. The wood looked so rustic, and you guessed that was what gave the place such a warm and welcoming feeling. The higher you climbed, the more you saw, and the more you saw, the more you liked. You followed Borik down a hall, noticing that all the doors you passed had mini wreaths decked out in the same blue and silver ornaments like at the airport and throughout the streets.
“Ah-ha, here we are,” Borik said before he put the key into the lock and pushed the door open. Once he did, the scent of cinnamon and pine hit you in the face. It was like the hand of Christmas came out and smacked you.
“My wife loves the smell,” Borik explained as you stepped inside. You smiled and thanked him for his help.
“If you get hungry, you have a few options. There are plenty of places nearby you can eat some authentic Brexendorian food, but also my wife cooks every night, and dinner usually is at eight o’clock, but tonight Anette has agreed to keep some heated for anyone who would like some. It’s stew, rabbit.”
“Oh, thumper. Wonderful.”
Borik laughed loudly with that one. “I know that one, Bambi, the children’s cartoon. Good one Ms. Thornton.”
You smiled. “You can call me Xari, Borik.”
“Well, have a good night,” he said before he walked out.
Finally alone, the first thing you did was text your sister to let her know not to worry and give her an update on what was happening. After you let Anika know what was happening, it didn’t take long for your phone to ring. The next ten or so minutes were spent talking to Anika and telling her how amazing the things you’d seen so far were. You could not shut up about the decorations, the way the snow looked to have been groomed to lay on things perfectly. It was that damn picturesque. Since you couldn’t stop talking about it, Anika was the one to suggest you go out and enjoy it before you got back on the plane. It was a suggestion you fully intended on listening to.
Fifteen minutes later, you were back downstairs bundled with your camera and your purse, ready to explore. When you told Anita your intention, she gave you a map of the city and highlighted places to look at but cautioned you to hurry because stores would be closing soon, and nights during Brexendor winters could be brutal. You promised you’d be quick and careful, then stepped out, ready to explore like Dora.
Your first stop was a block down, a children’s toy store. It was decked out with all the latest toys along with some traditional things that Santa would have brought specially made from his workshop. While you were snapping pictures outside the window, a kid ran up to the window and pressed his nose to it. His eyes were wide, and his mouth matched their size. You asked the adult with him if you could take a picture. When they approved, you got one or two from a few different angles before they walked off.
As you walked through the city, enjoying the scenery, you took pictures of everything that caught your eye, ornaments, trees, people, stores, even pets. Christmas wasn’t your favorite holiday, but it was your second favorite, and being here really as inching it higher on the list.
When you felt a strong wind hit you, it stopped you in your tracks. It was strong enough to have you stagger backward a little, allowing a chill to sweep through you. You looked around and saw a few feet away was some sort of bar, and behind it was swirling snow that looked like a tornado. You hurried toward the building, being careful not to slip on any ice that may be hiding underneath the snow. Once to the door, you walked inside, and the sound of Christmas carols filled your ears.
“Jesus.”
If the scent of the Inn felt like Christmas slapped you in the face, the look and sound of this place was the one two-hitter that settled that you were in a whole nother world here. You looked around and found a coat rack along the left wall. After placing your jacket and scarf on the hook, you walked to the bar and slid onto a stool. As you waited for the bartender to come over, you looked around. Here it didn’t smell like cinnamon, but the pine was present, along with the smell of alcohol and licorice.
There were several small dark wooden tables around the bar with chairs and even booths that decorated the walls. The floors matched the tables, and those matched the walls. This place looked like somewhere you’d find in the middle of nowhere. The window to the back of the establishment showed the dark woods with tall snow-covered trees and that howling snow tornado.
When you turned back to the back, the huge elk head above the wall lined with alcohol bottles had you gasping.
“Jeez,” you said as you snapped two of three pictures of the creepy looking thing.
“That is Hogan’s prized possession.”
You looked beside you where the voice came from to see a very attractive man there. When you’d sat down, you didn’t notice anyone beside you, so to see his piercing blue eyes boring holes into you. Your eyes traveled lower to his awkwardly shaped nose. It looked like it had been broken once or twice and never quite went back to normal. You didn’t mind it, though. Who liked a perfect face, especially when looking at him, seemed like that was about the only thing that was not absolutely perfect. His jaw was carved to precision like he was specially crafted and not born. When your eyes fell to his lips, you purposely forced yourself to look away.
“Is—is that right?”
“Yes. I bet you cannot guess why,” the stranger said in a crisp European accent that was very close to British. You weren’t one hundred percent sure if it was or not, he just sounded proper as hell, and it was actually a bit of a turn on.
You shrugged while looking at the bottles that lined the back of the bar. “Enlighten me.”
Just then, a large man with blond hair in a man bun walked over. He had to have been over six feet tall, and if this were America, he’d definitely be a shopper at the store Big & Tall. The man looked to the one seated beside you, ready to speak but suddenly closed his mouth.
“Hogan, Ms--,” the stranger began waiting for you to fill in your name.
He thought he was so smooth; you thought as you smiled to yourself.
“Xari.”
His eyebrow shot up, and he smiled sweetly. “Wow, what a beautiful name.”
You smiled, and as you felt it widening, you bit onto your bottom lip to stop it. “Thanks.”
“Ms. Xari would like to know why Shandoe is your most prized possession.”
“Shandoe?”
Hogan looked behind him at the Elk’s head then smiled. “It’s been in my family for generations. It was the first thing my great-great-great-great-great grandfather ever killed for himself to feed his family. They ate everything but the head and decided to keep it as a reminder of where we came from.”
You were expecting some weird manly story but what you got was a wholesome and heartwarming tale. You smiled, raised your camera, and snapped Hogan, and as he stared at the Elk’s head with such a loving look on his face that was such a contradiction for his large frame.
“Are you a reporter?”
“No, no. Not at all. I’m a travel influencer and blogger. I go around and soak up what the world has to offer while taking pictures and writing about it on my blog for others to read about.”
The man beside you nodded, then raised his glass to his head.
“What can I get you?”
“Uh—what is he drinking?”
“The Mistletoe Bomb.”
You snorted, unable to contain yourself any longer. “What in the world is that?”
“You laugh now, but it is a blend he makes special for me. It is not for the faint of heart,” the man beside you informed.
“Oh no, well looks like I’ll be having one of those.”
Hogan looked to him, then back to you. “It is all right, Hogan. Give the lady what she wants. I am assuming fell strength is also what you require?”
“Yes, full strength. I want all the mistletoe and all the bomb.”
Hogan went to work, making the drink while you continued looking around.
“Em, I’m Henry.”
You looked to him to find his hand outstretched to you, waiting for you to place yours in it. When you did, you repeated your name as you noted how soft his hands were. It felt like he’d never done a day’s work with them. Henry rose your hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. It was one small action, but that action had butterflies flitting in your belly and your cheeks heating as if a heater was aimed directly at your face.
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance,” Henry uttered while looking into your eyes.
“Same,” you whispered.
Henry released your hand and turned back to his drink at the same time Hogan placed a mug before you.
“One Mistletoe Bomb for the lady.”
You looked at the large mug then to Hogan, who waited expectantly. When your eyes drifted to Henry beside you, he too was watching and waiting. No matter how much you felt like this was a setup, you persisted, not wanting to back down. When you took your first full mouthful of the drink, your eyes immediately bugged. Your tongue was on fire in seconds, and it seemed the longer you held the liquid in your mouth, the worse the burn was. You gulped it down and instantly knew the mistake. Not only was your mouth on fire, but now your throat and chest as it burned a fiery path to your belly.
“Holy fucking shit!”
The two men boisterously laughed, the sounds booming off the wooden walls before filling the entire room. You looked around, noticing for the first time it was completely empty.
“What the hell is that?”
“Something that will put hair on your chest,” Hogan teased.
“No, shit.”
Henry seemed to like that response; he laughed again then finished his mug.
“How can you drink this?”
��He shrugged, then turned his body to you. You gave him a well-paced once over, taking in his furry winter boots, dark pants, and dark sweater to match the pants. Underneath the sweater, though, you saw peeks of a crisp white shirt. He dressed like he had money, you thought.
“I have done it for half my life. I do not even feel the burn anymore. Do you know why he calls it Mistletoe Bomb now?”
You giggled and nodded, pushing the mug away. If you drank that, you’d need to be carried out of here. As Hogan appeared to take the mug away, Henry reached for it, insisting he’d finish it while Hogan placed a beer bottle in front of you.
“Would you like a straw?”
You looked at Hogan as if he were crazy. Who drank beer with a straw? You shook your head and raised the bottle to your lips to take a swig. This was more your speed, not pure petrol.
“So you are new in town,” Henry began.”
“Kind of. My plane had to detour because of the storm, so here I am in a place I’ve never heard of and cannot figure out why.”
“Is it strange to never have heard of every place in the world?”
You thought about it for a moment as you took another mouthful of beer then nodded.
“Yes. I’m from America,” you began.
“Ah, American. Let me guess. Everything has to be discovered, and if it is not, then either it doe not exist, or it is being hidden.”
You snapped your mouth shut. He’d guessed American thinking in one try. “Well, that’s not fun,” you added. Henry laughed and took his mouthful of fire.
“I am sorry. I know America well,” Henry informed.
“Oh, so you’ve been?”
“No. I do not need to. I have spent my entire life learning it.”
You looked back at him, confused by what he meant.
“Every country gives lessons on other countries of the word, especially powerhouse countries,” he explained.
“Well, your studies have paid off.”
“Do you really believe that everything has to be discovered?”
“No. where is the fun in that? I believe that the world has to have some mystery.”
“Then welcome to Brexendor,” Henry said with a smile.
“Brexendor. What’s it’s deal?”
You leaned closer, resting your elbow on the wood of the bar as you watched him.
“Deal? I am afraid I do not understand.”
“What I mean is, the people are nice. Everyone I have encountered, including at the airport, is nice. You know airport staff can be so mean, but not here. The people who own the Inn I am staying at are so sweet. Even strangers I bump into don’t;’ seem to mind. Not to mention, this place has the whole snow globe effect down. It’s incredible. What is the deal? Is the president some fantastic guy who pays everyone well and gives them ample vacation time for them to be so happy?”
Henry smiled, dipped his head lower, then rubbed the back of his neck.
“Would that be unusual?”
“Yes. Compared to what America has going on—highly unusual.”
“Well, the first thing to know about Brexendor is, a president does not run it,” Henry clarified.
“Ah right, it is a monarchy. So does that mean there is a king, and queen, lords, dukes,” you began, then gasped, remembering more. “Princesses?”
Henry smirked, gulped his drink, then nodded. “Yes.” He continued to take another swig from his mug.
His words slowly resonated. “What!? You’re serious?”
He nodded, then placed the glass onto the bar.
“Wow. How interesting. So this King and Queen are they the good kind?”
Henry’s smile turned somber before it disappeared altogether.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No, no. Yes, the King and Queen are the best kind,” he filled in before he took the last mouthful of his drink. “They would like you.”
You laughed loudly and shook your head. “Me? I doubt that. While all the mothers of my boyfriends have loved me, I don’t think the King and Queen would care for me.”
“Boyfriend, so uh—you’re involved,” Henry said as he avoided your eyes.
His words sounded like a statement rather than a question, so you remained quiet. After a few moments, he looked at you expectantly. You pinched your lips before you finished your beer.
“Are you involved?”
Henry took a deep breath looked forward to the bottles at the bar as a pained and confused expression washed over his features.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” you replied.
“I am not—involved,” he answered.
“You said it like you weren’t sure.”
“It is complicated.”
“Well, I am a stranger in a bar—an empty bar. You’ll most likely never see me again, and I’ve been told I’m a great listener.”
Henry smiled then turned back to you, resting his elbow on the bar mimicking your stance.
“You have not answered my inquiry.”
“Inquiry?”
Henry smiled again, then bit his bottom lip. That is where your eyes went to. He had nice lips, you thought.
“On if you are involved,” he clarified.
“I am not involved with anyone. If you ask my mother, she will tell you I’m an old maid with no prospects.”
“I do not believe that. You are funny, intelligent, fun to be around, and quite beautiful. There is no way you have no admirers.”
You smiled and began toying with your necklace.
“I’m sure you say that to all the girls you meet in deserted bars during a snow storm.”
He snorted, and you felt his breath across your cheek. It was then you realized how close the two of you were to each other.
“To be honest, I have never found myself alone with a woman in a bar. You are my first.”
You bit your bottom lip feeling more flirtatious than usual as you gazed into his hypnotizing eyes. He was gorgeous and becoming even more so with every passing minute. The two of you ordered more drinks, then drifted off to one of the booths on the wall that was more hidden and even more comfortable. You talked about nearly everything and nothing at the same time. He spoke a lot about philosophy and astronomy and the sciences that motivated a lot of the earlier theories. It was fascinating just listening to him speak. There was something about his mouth and the properness of the words he used. Never once did he use slang or even a contraction. You’d never met anyone who didn’t use contractions. The longer you sat there, the more you felt like never getting up.
“There is something about you that is so comfortable and easy,” Henry began.
“You too.”
“I feel like I can talk to you about anything. I even want to.”
You smiled, “You too.”
Your eyes lingered, and you saw him sway forward, but then he stopped only to do it again and again. With your faces were centimeters from one another, it was then you noticed the slight speck of brown in his left eye. You felt Henry’s hand gently cup your cheek; then, his thumb slowly stroked your skin. The heat from his palm seared your cheek, and every stroke of his thumb send heat tendrils down your jaw to your lips, making them tingle and yearn for his.
This had never happened to you in your entire life. You’d known this man a few hours and were ready to possibly bring him back to the Inn with you. Henry didn’t move. It was like he was giving you the last few centimeters to make a decision, but you didn’t make it. A phone went off, but you both ignored it until the sound went off. You raised your hand to rest on top of his. Once your skin touched his, Henry lightly sighed out. Before either of you could make another move, a phone rang again. This time Henry groaned before he looked away just as you did.
You cleared your throat and slid from his body as he checked his phone.
“I have to go,” he announced.
Frozen, you sat there trying to understand if you’d read this entire thing wrong.
“I am sorry, something—urgent has come up.”
You snapped out of it, then nodded. “It’s fine. I should probably get back to the Inn anyway. They say a storm is brewing.”
Both of you stood from the booth while straightening your clothes.
“I really enjoyed tonight,” Henry added.
You smiled and nodded. “Me too. It was—nice.”
Your eyes lingered again, and your bodies drifted closer. It was you who looked away first and stepped back. You reached for your purse, but Henry stopped you.
“It has been taken care of. Let us call it a tourist special, right Hogan.”
“Right your--,” Hogan began before Henry looked at him, cutting him off.
Henry ushered you to the coat rack on the wall by the door then helped you into your jacket.
“Can I drive you back to the Inn?”
“No, please. I am more than capable of getting back,” you assured.”
“Are you sure?”
You nodded then turned to walk out, but Henry pulled you to him. “I want to see you again.”
“I don’t see how. I leave tomorrow as soon as the storm passes.”
Henry looked to be thinking before he sighed. “I guess it was not meant to be,” you whispered, a tinge of sadness filling you as reality set in.
“In another life,” Henry softly said.
He came closer then placed a slow, chaste kiss on your cheek before he released you. The two of you stared at each other for a few moments, and in those moments, anything felt possible. When you faced that anything could have been possible but not for you, you sighed. A few seconds later, you turned and walked out of the bar.
Once outside, the rough wind caught you off guard. You took a few moments to bundle yourself, then continued walking back to the Inn. The swirling snow in the air made it a little challenging to see, but you tried the best you could. Several times, the wind picked up and shoved you where it wanted, forcing you to grab on to something to hold until it passed.
Suddenly a big gust of wind blew you to the right and knocking you off your feet to roll for several feet. When the wind slowed, you rolled over onto your back to spit out the mouthful of snow that you’d managed to ingest. It took you several tries to stand, but when you did, you tried to see where you were and what direction you needed to walk in. That was when the wind picked up again, making you scream. When you turned, you saw two headlights coming right at you, then all you felt was pain before you were out cold.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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***
The Backstory
September 2006
In Nora Priestley’s fourteen years of life, she’s never lived this far away from the ocean before. It’s always been just right outside her window, a quick ten-minute trek from Thames Street until she reached the rolling dunes of Rejects Beach. Smelling the salt in her hair and feeling her skin grow sticky from the feeling of the ocean air was practically second-nature to her, but ever since she moved to the middle of nowhere Connecticut for boarding school, she’s never felt more disconnected from normality in her life.
Nora’s never really been a big fan of embracing change. She’d like to blame that on the fact that she’s never really had any monumental shifts to her tectonic plates so far in her short life, and she’s not quite sure if that’s a blessing or a curse.
It’s always been just her and her mom. A dynamic duo. A tag team of epic proportions.
Growing up in Newport, Rhode Island could be worse, Nora thinks. She was lucky enough to grow up in a small coastal town where everybody accepted her in one way or another. Even though she was much different than the other kids her age, considering she spent most of her time alone while her mother worked, she never felt unhappy. Life was simple. Life was easy.
Nora and her mother, Shannon, lived in a small apartment in a renovated old colonial townhouse at the bottom of Thames Street. It was a third-floor walk-up, and in the heat of the summer when the humidity made the wallpaper begin to curl at the edges of her tiny paisley-coated bedroom, Nora had to sleep with her creaky window open with nothing but a thin sheet to cover her sweat-soaked body, the soft sounds of the rolling waves crashing against the shore lulling her to sleep.
Shannon Priestley was the ultimate leading lady in Nora’s life. She referred to Nora as her perfect mistake, because having a baby the summer she turned eighteen with a boy she thought would be her forever was the very definition of that phrase. But she handled it like she did everything else in her life—with grace and dignity, and nothing but a big gleaming grin on her face that always made Nora and everyone else lucky enough to be around her sunbeam feel that everything would be okay.
With a one-year-old baby on her hip and a bright and shiny high school diploma under her belt, Shannon found a job listing to be a nanny for the Clemonte’s. Without a second’s deliberation, she packed up her things and moved to the tip of the state to Newport.
The Clemonte’s were one of the wealthiest families in Newport, hailing from an impressive lineage of old money with an expansive estate of fourteen acres overlooking Ochre Point and the Atlantic Ocean. They were one of those families that named their properties, and when Shannon Priestley first stepped foot inside The Breakers mansion, she knew right then and there that her new bosses had very high expectations for her.
Shannon became the singular nanny to Warren and Jane Clemonte’s baby son, William. He was born three months after Nora, and even though Shannon felt slighted that she had to spend most of her days with another family’s child while her own was being watched by their downstairs neighbor, she promised to split her time evenly. And even though twenty-four hours in a day was never enough for Shannon, she made sure to spend most of it with Nora.
And Nora was always grateful for that.
The second Nora was old enough to take care of herself, she started going to The Breakers after school so that her mom could walk her home. It was at that very moment when she had her first taste of ostentatious luxury, and from then on it never failed to amaze her. The other half certainly did live differently than Nora and her mother, and stepping foot inside the Clemonte’s mansion made that realization startlingly clear.
This was when she first met William Clemonte. Nora always knew he existed, considering her mother would sprinkle in small anecdotes about him while doing other mundane tasks. “Willy was very quiet today,” Shannon would tell Nora on their walk home from Ochre Point to Lower Thames. “Mr. and Mrs. Clemonte want Willy to take piano lessons and learn Latin. How on earth is a seven-year-old supposed to handle that?”
To Nora, Willy was somewhat of a fictional character living behind the towering walls of The Breakers. She imagined him being a smaller boy, blonde with blue eyes and wearing some sort of matching ensemble sitting inside the thick walls of his mansion, overlooking the deep cobalt ocean through a grand wall of windows. But when she meets him one afternoon after her first day of second grade, she could not be any more wrong.
Sure, Willy Clemonte was a small boy, but he was by no means shy or scared of her. He took her on a tour through the grand halls of The Breakers, showed her all of the secret passageways built inside the walls from when the mansion was first erected back in the early twentieth century, and shared his brand new toys with her.
But most importantly, he listened to her. He asked her a million questions about public school, about the world outside of his tall fortress, about the television shows Shannon let Nora watch after dinner, and the different kinds of popular music other kids their age were listening to.
“Wait, so *NSYNC isn’t just Justin Timberlake?” Willy would ask whenever Nora would show him what was inside her portable CD player (which was almost exclusively No Strings Attached until she reached the fourth grade).
“Oh my god, Willy! *NSYNC is a boyband! Justin is just the best one,” Nora would scold right back, shoving the plastic headphones over his blonde head of hair so that the felt cushions would press against his ear, the vibrating thumps of “Bye Bye Bye” playing through the electronic equipment.
Whenever he would ask her about school, Willy was always shocked to hear how different her experience was from his own. Nora would tell him about the yellow school buses that picked up and dropped off her friends, she would show up to his house afterward wearing jeans and a pink Gap sweatshirt and he was always surprised to learn that kids could wear whatever they wanted during the day, and when she would come over on Fridays and tell him that her mother gave her a dollar for pizza day at lunchtime, Willy wished more and more that he could go to public school with her, too.
While Willy was nothing but sunshine and kindness, Warren Clemonte was the complete opposite. A cold and distant man, stern and grumpy with a perpetual frown on his face, he sent a terrifying chill all the way down to Nora’s bones until they rattled together like a hollow instrument. And one Thursday afternoon when Shannon was busy packing Willy’s bags for the Clemonte’s annual Christmas trip to Aspen, Warren caught his son running around the main hall searching through every nook and cranny for Nora’s impressive hiding spot. It was only once she heard the bellowing yells when she emerged from behind an old armoire in the library, peeking her head around the corner to watch Warren yell at Willy in the echoing hallway.
“What do you think you’re doing, running around when you’ve left your Latin workbook unfinished?” Warren demanded, his low voice bouncing off the thick walls.
“I’m sorry, dad. I was just—”
“—Just what? Playing around and avoiding your responsibilities? How are you supposed to learn anything if you spend all of your time dilly-dallying with that girl, William?”
Willy began to cry then, and before Nora could interfere, her mother was already ten steps ahead of her, entering the main hall and apologizing profusely while her daughter stayed hidden behind the old armoire, watching everything with regretful eyes.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Clemonte. I was just packing for Willy, I didn’t realize he had run off. I’ll make sure it never happens again, sir,” Shannon said, placing a comforting arm around Willy’s shaking shoulders while his father stood barely five feet away, watching his wailing son with lifeless eyes.
“Please do, Miss Priestley. William does not need any more distractions.” His voice held a clipped finality to it, and when he walked away and Nora appeared from behind the wall to approach Willy who was clutching her mother for dear life, she never understood how his father could just leave his son to fall apart in front of him like that.
That was the last afternoon Nora ever spent at The Breakers.
Up until four months ago, Nora was almost certain that the entire Clemonte family had forgotten that she existed, and that treacherous afternoon with Willy nearly seven years ago was just a sad memory that could be tarnished for the rest of eternity. But when her mother comes home with a thick black and red folder, the words Townbridge Academy in capital letters splayed against the front page above a golden crest, Nora’s never been more confused in her life.
When she asked her mother what she was doing with a boarding school acceptance letter in her hand that Nora had never heard of before, the answer she received was definitely not what she had expected. Apparently, Mrs. Clemonte found out that Nora was planning on attending the public high school on Broadway Street, and apparently, she believed that she could offer Shannon a lending hand. Nora would like to blame it all on Jane Clemonte’s philanthropic tendencies, but a few phone calls and a faxed copy of Nora’s stellar transcripts later, Nora was appointed a lofty scholarship to attend Townbridge Academy in the fall.
All things considered, Nora did not want to go. She liked her middle school friends, she liked being her own person, she liked knowing that her mom was only a twenty-minute walk away, and most importantly, she liked not having to be associated with a family like the Clemonte’s. She didn’t want to be seen as a charity case, and accepting the scholarship on Mrs. Clemonte’s behalf to attend a prestigious boarding school like Townbridge Academy was exactly that.
But when her mother sat her down and told her how amazing this opportunity was, and how much Nora could accomplish with a diploma from one of the best schools in the country, Nora couldn’t bring herself to say no. Especially when her mother held her close and whispered in her ear, “God, Nora, you can do all of the things I never could have done,” Nora knew that there was no way she could break her mother’s heart.
Because now, standing in her new dorm room with deep oak walls, a creaky polished hardwood floor, a red ornamental rug that smelled a bit like Warren Clemonte’s cologne, and a small twin bed nestled in the corner underneath a window overlooking the bleak green hills of Connecticut—Nora Priestley wishes she had told her mother no.
Before she can even wallow in her own self-imposed misery, the front door opens revealing an older man carrying a trolley holding a matching six-piece set of luggage. Nora looks down to the singular old leather suitcase she purchased at a surplus store on Spruce Street resting on the floor, comparing it to the monogrammed navy blue set with the gold letters ARW spanning across each piece.
The man begins placing each suitcase onto the floor without uttering a word to a very confused Nora, and suddenly the door opens wider, a pretty girl with strawberry blonde hair floating into the room. She’s wearing a white tennis skirt that rests a few inches above her kneecap, with a powder blue collared shirt cuffed at the wrists. For a brief moment, Nora wonders if her mother purchased the wrong uniform set for her, but when the girl lifts her eyes from her Blackberry and looks over at Nora, she notices a sailor’s crest embroidered on the right side above her chest with more initials, and she begins to breathe a little.
“Hi! You must be my roommate, I’m Nor—”
“—Where are the rest of your bags?” the girl interrupts, eyeing the old leather suitcase disdainfully. Nora’s fingers immediately fly up to her scalp and begin raking through her blonde hair, a nervous habit she’s tried her hardest to get rid of.
“I have a duffle on the desk chair, too,” Nora explains quietly, removing her hand from her hair so that she can point towards the old wooden desk that holds her mother’s duffle bag.
Nora watches as the girl’s piercing gaze shifts from her two flimsy bags to her outfit. And when Nora watches beady hazel eyes take in her old white tank top, her mom’s grey knit cardigan, thrifted bootcut jeans, and sandals from two summers ago, Nora’s never wanted to disappear more in her life.
Before she can find the words to speak, Nora hears a shrill “Alyssa!” echo through the hallway, until a matching set of girls wearing nautical-inspired clothing and thick headbands are hugging the strawberry blonde-haired girl who just so obviously judged Nora a few moments ago.
“Who’s this?” one of the girls asks Alyssa, breaking away from their hug and looking over at Nora with interest.
Just as Nora reaches a hand out to introduce herself, Alyssa says, “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go, girls,” and the three girls spin around without even uttering a goodbye.
Nora watches as they walk down the hallway, giggling the entire way as if they hadn’t singlehandedly just ruined her first official day away from home.
***
October 2006
The first month at boarding school is just a series of Nora playing catch up. While she thought going to public school and hanging out with normal people would be enough to prepare her for high school, three weeks in she’s never felt more lost in her entire life.
She’s one of the only students who doesn’t own a cellphone, she wears second-hand Sperry’s instead of fancy loafers with gold links on the front, her backpack is a maroon Jansport while most students opted for leather messenger bags, and when people ask her how she spent her summer, she’s gotten used to the wide-eyed look they give her when she explains that she scooped ice cream near the beach for tips.
Nora’s not naive. She knows that she’s referred to as The Scholarship Girl behind her back, she knows that Alyssa complains to her elitist friends about how dreadful it is to be forced to room with a girl who wears hand-me-down clothing, and she knows that adjusting to life at Townbridge was going to be the very definition of arduous.
But she remembers what her mother told her—how Nora’s skin is thicker than she thinks, and no matter how different she is to everybody else, she’s still just as deserving of a top-notch education.
Even though Nora was at the top of her class for most of her life, she still felt far behind the rest of her classmates at Townbridge. She spends the first few weeks getting very acquainted with the walls of the library, making the nearly twenty-minute trek from her dorm in Emerson Hall to Millikan Library across campus. Classes have only just begun, but Nora can’t afford to fall any more behind than she already has. So instead of making friends and signing up for various clubs and sports teams, Nora’s allowed her backside to practically mold into the stiff wooden chairs inside the empty library.
Nora would have completely forgotten about the First Year Mixer being held that evening if not for Alyssa and her friends getting ready in her dorm room. When she walks in still wearing her uniform well after classes have ended for the day, the three girls look at her as if she were crazy.
“Did you forget about the mixer tonight, Nora?” Grace, one of the twins, asks with a shocked expression decorating her pretty face. All three girls are wearing colorful Lilly Pulitzer dresses, passing along mascara and eyeshadow amongst themselves in preparation for tonight.
“Uh, no I was just—”
“—Making friends with the books again?” Alyssa sneers, earning a giggle from the girls.
Nora chooses not to respond. It’s just easier that way.
Walking over to her wardrobe, Nora sorts through her limited selection of clothing to find something appropriate to wear for tonight. She didn’t even want to be in attendance, but she’s figured that she’s probably spent enough time on her own, and that maybe, in the off chance that Townbridge has some normal students, she can make a friend or two.
The only two dresses she brought with her were a simple long-sleeved cream sweater dress that fell just above her knees, and a thin summer dress her mother bought her two years ago that was tighter and fell around mid-thigh. She goes with the sweater dress, deeming it the best outfit she has to just simply blend in. Once it’s over her head, she reaches for her thigh-high socks and brown boots she got as a graduation gift, slipping them on quickly. October has left a brisk chill in the nighttime air, and considering her jackets consisted of a worn-in winter parka and an oversized flannel she scored at Goodwill, Nora thinks this combination will be more than fine.
She reaches for the comb on her desk and begins to rake it through her knotted hair, smoothing out the kinks and leaving the strands to fall in their messy, wavy natural state. Just as she’s digging through her backpack to try and find her lip balm and mascara, she can’t help but overhear Alyssa gossiping to Grace and Erin loudly from across the room.
“Harry’s plane landed a few hours ago,” Alyssa gushes, plucking the blush from Grace’s hands and beginning to apply it to the apples of her cheeks.
“Oh my God, no way! You must be so excited, Lyss!” Erin squeaks, reaching for the lipgloss that Alyssa just used. Before she can even remove the lid, Alyssa swats at her wrists and tells her to pick another color.
“Have you been texting all summer?” Grace asks from behind the vanity.
Alyssa nods, readjusting her freshly curled hair. “Ever since he left the Hamptons in July, yeah. We’ve been messaging back and forth. He told me he can’t wait to see me tonight.”
“That’s so romantic, Lyss!” Erin says, and Nora tries her hardest not to roll her eyes. “I can’t believe they let him miss the first three weeks of school.”
“He’s Harry Styles, Erin,” Grace chides, turning to face her sister with slanted eyes. “He can do whatever he wants.”
Nora twists the mascara wand back into the tube before backing away from her desk, double-checking her outfit to make sure that it was suitable enough. Just as she gives her hair one last fluff, she hears Alyssa ask, “Are you really not going to do anything with your hair?”
Nora turns towards her with a sheepish look, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t own any styling tools so…” she lets the words fall from her mouth, watching the three girls in front of her look at her as if she had a second head growing out of her neck.
“You’ve never straightened your hair?! I’m sure Alyssa will let you borrow—”
“—Erin! Enough. Let’s go, we’re going to be late,” Alyssa scolds, ending the conversation abruptly. Before Nora can even shoot a smile in Erin’s direction, the three girls are already out the door, leaving Nora to walk to the Great Hall by herself.
The problem with spending all of her time walking from her dorm to the lecture halls on East Campus to Millikan Library is that she seemingly forgot where every other building was. Trying to locate the Great Hall in daylight was already difficult for Nora, but now with the sun practically set behind the horizon and her sense of direction completely shit, she starts panicking when she’s walked by the dining hall for the third time.
An upperclassman saves Nora before she can have a full-blown panic attack in the middle of the quad, and with two minutes to spare, Nora finds a row with a few empty seats towards the back of the room.
Nobody seems to have noticed her, save for the girls in the row in front of her who turn around when Nora’s boots jostle their chairs. She offers them a muffled apology, and just as quickly as they turned around to look at her, they swivel their necks to face the front again.
Nora sighs to herself, before lifting her head to hear the Headmaster begin his speech. After listening to him drawl about the mission statement and his expectations for the first-year students, Nora immediately wishes she never left her dorm room. She can feel her eyes begin to droop, and before her body can slump further down into her chair, the sound of a heavy oak door closing echoes throughout the Great Hall, and Nora feels her body springing upwards.
Headmaster Clayton pauses in his monotonous ramblings, and before the entire collection of students in front of Nora can turn around to see what the interruption was, a long body falls into the chair next to hers, and the Headmaster resumes his speech as if nothing ever happened.
“Did I miss anything?” an impossibly British voice whispers in Nora’s direction, and she’s a bit surprised by the low timbre of it. She looks over at him and finds herself staring into green pools with a golden shimmer surrounding his irises. Nora’s never been captivated by a boy before—but the one sitting next to her with fluffy chocolate curls falling over his forehead, surrounding his ears, and ending at the nape of his neck might possibly be the first. His hands are shoved inside the pockets of an expensive-looking black trench coat, and his upper body is leaning towards hers as he awaits her response. When Nora notices his pink lips forming into a small smirk, she’s almost positive that she’s been caught staring at this boy for far too long.
“Uh, no. Not really,” she whispers back, scrutinizing the way her voice squeaked at the beginning of her sentence.
His smirk shifts into a full-blown grin, and Nora can feel her cheeks begin to burn. “Hm, sounds like somebody wasn’t paying attention in the first place.”
Before Nora can retort, the boy near her chuckles softly at her nervous expression. “Can’t say I blame you, love. Clayton’s a fucking fossil.”
Nora giggles, causing the girls in front of her to turn around again with a murderous expression on their faces. She stops abruptly, and after they’ve snapped their heads forward for the second time, she looks over to the boy on her left and finds him trying his hardest to stifle another chuckle.
He shifts his body so he’s no longer leaning in Nora’s direction, and she’s a bit saddened by the sudden distance between them both.
Nora replays the interaction in her inexperienced, fourteen-year-old mind, wondering if the boy near her was just flirting with her. There’s no denying that she thinks he’s cute, considering she finds herself sneaking looks at him every few minutes during the duration of Headmaster Clayton’s speech just to get another glimpse of his soft hair and sunken dimples. And on more than one occasion, he catches her in his periphery, shooting her that charming smirk that never fails to make her cheeks blush.
The moment Headmaster Clayton wraps up his speech and the rest of the students begin to stand, Nora turns towards the boy and finds that he’s already looking at her. Now that they’ve exited their row, Nora notices how tall he is, taking in his long legs clad in black denim, his even longer torso in a similar black shirt. The all-dark ensemble somehow makes him look older. Makes him look mysterious. Makes him look even more handsome—and suddenly Nora’s grown a bit nervous.
“I’m Nora, by the way,” she says, sticking her hand out for him to shake. He hesitates, looking between her face and her outstretched hand with a smile on his face, finding it incredibly cute that a girl his age would greet him so formally.
Just before his hand can fall into hers, another hand claps him on the shoulder and he’s forced to look at the intrusion, his own arm falling back to his side. “Harry, my man! How was the flight?”
When Nora looks over his shoulder, she notices two boys greeting him warmly. She hasn’t really met anybody at Townbridge aside from Alyssa, Grace, and Erin, so she’s not surprised when she doesn’t recognize the two other boys infiltrating their small bubble.
But upon further inspection, Nora realizes that she does, in fact, recognize one of them.
Standing directly in her line of vision is none other than Willy Clemonte. Although it’s been seven years since Nora last saw him, there’s no denying that the sandy-haired, blue-eyed teenager in front of her is him. He’s practically almost the same height as his father now, towering over Nora in his khaki pants and a white cable-knit sweater. His hair still tangles in his eyelashes and his cheeks are still dusted with freckles, and Nora’s stunned at the sudden rush of memories that flood her insides.
He seems to have made the same startling realization as Nora did, because his eyes begin to widen almost comically, and a strained expression falls over his features. Before they can give away that they’ve been staring at each other, the boy from before, now known to Nora as Harry, spins around on his heels and gives her a small smile.
“Nora, right?” he asks, and she nods hesitantly. “Where are you from?”
“Uh, Newport,” Nora answers.
“Oh, wicked! So you must know Will, then?” Harry asks, seemingly oblivious to the awkward tension radiating from the two of them.
Before she can respond, Will clears his throat and takes a step forward. With one last panicked look at Nora, he tells Harry, “Yeah, man. Her mom was one of our maids.”
“Wait, what?” Harry asks, confusion written all over his face. Nora’s surprised that she can hear it over the sound of her breath leaving her lungs from Willy’s comment. Sure, she knew that the last time they saw each other he was crying into her mother’s arms over a remark his father said, and sure, she didn’t expect them to resume their friendship as if nothing had happened.
But to blatantly lie about Nora’s mother, a woman who took care of him for years? Nora never thought that he would grow up to be so cruel.
To twist the knife lodged into her chest even further, Alyssa and the twins approach the group with annoyed looks, all aimed in Nora’s direction. They seem to have overheard Willy’s previous comment, and before Nora can even defend herself, Alyssa reaches out and wraps her hand around Harry’s forearm as if she were claiming him in front of everybody.
“Yeah, apparently Townbridge is letting just about anybody in this year. Just ignore her, Harry, we all have been,” she says, her tone nothing but dismissive.
Nora watches as Harry shifts his gaze from Alyssa to her. His green eyes fall down her body, and for the first time, he notices the loose thread at the hemline of her dress from overwear, the tear in her socks behind the knee, her brown boots that lack the distinction of a designer label. With one last look at her, he takes a step back, and Nora knows right then and there that she’s been condemned as an outsider.
“C’mon Harry, tell us all about the rest of your summer in France! I want to hear all about it,” Alyssa enthuses, and without a second look, the group turns around and leaves Nora staring after them.
No matter how attractive she finds Harry, there’s no denying that his personality is undeniably ugly. And as she watches him wrap an arm around Alyssa’s shoulder, Nora thinks it’s quite fitting that they’ve both found each other.
***
November 2007
Summer has always been Nora’s favorite season (living permanently near the ocean sort of makes that inevitable), but that summer after her first year, Nora’s never been more excited to be home. She missed her mom, she missed the beach, and she missed her normal friends who didn’t care that she wore sandals that were falling apart and shorts that were fraying at the edges.
When Nora came back from school, she begged her mother not to send her back to Townbridge for her second year. She told her how she couldn’t make friends, how everybody made her feel like a social pariah, and how she was absolutely miserable being so far away from her.
“Oh, Nora baby,” her mother said, holding her close. “You know exactly who you are. You’re strong, you’re beautiful, you’re intelligent—and you’re so much better than those kids who make you feel like you aren’t.”
“You don’t understand, mom,” Nora said through hiccups, wet tears soaking her cheeks, “They hate me. All of them. They never even gave me a chance.”
“Everybody?” her mother asked. And when Nora just stared at her with her lower lip trembling, Shannon combed her fingers through Nora’s blonde hair comfortingly. “I’m sure there are people at Townbridge who are just like you. I just don’t think you’ve tried to find them yet.”
Even though she didn’t want to admit it, Nora knew that her mother was right. So after another summer filled with scooping ice cream for tips and spending every second of her days off at the beach reading romance novel after romance novel, Nora packed up her things for the second time—this time with another suitcase—and set off for Connecticut with higher hopes for her second year.
Things seemed to be turning around for her when she discovered that her roommate was no longer Alyssa Whalen. Instead, it was a girl named Lydia who lived a few towns over in Madison by the beach, just like Nora. They bonded instantly over their shared love of having sea-knotted hair and the feeling of having sand squished between your toes and letting your fingers wrinkle from wading through the briny water for too long. And when Lydia encourages Nora to sign up for the swim team with her, Nora’s grateful that she’s finally found a friend in this hellhole.
Her second year is leagues better than her first, considering in the first three months, she barely had to cross paths with Alyssa and Harry. On the rare instances that they do run into each other, they simply ignore the other’s existence, and Nora doesn’t mind it one bit. It’s just easier that way, she supposes.
Halfway through Nora’s swim season, she turns sixteen and discovers that everybody around her is getting their license. Lydia’s parents bought her a used 2005 Honda Civic when she passed her driver’s test, and when she told Nora that she could use it whenever she needed, Nora felt bad lying to her new friend. Because once again she was playing catch up, getting her learner’s permit over the summer when everybody was already scheduling their exam, and with the way things were going, Nora wouldn’t be able to get her license until she was home again for summer break.
She also didn’t want to admit to Lydia that she couldn’t afford a car, and that her mother would never allow Nora to take her 1997 Toyota Corolla to campus.
After swim practice one November afternoon, Nora leaves the Athletic Center with wet hair to head back to her dorm in Donahue Hall completely across campus. Normally, Nora walks with Lydia, but since it’s Friday and students who live in-state with a license are allowed to leave campus for the weekend, Nora’s forced to make the twenty-minute journey alone.
With her gym bag slung over her shoulder, Nora begins to walk through the parking lot to head towards the footpath that will bring her through campus. The sky is awfully dark for four in the afternoon, and when she looks up and notices the menacing grey clouds, she kicks herself for not packing her umbrella before she left her room this morning.
Just as she’s almost in the clear, she hears a familiar giggle that makes her skin crawl. Living with Alyssa for one excruciating year has allowed Nora to recognize that sound almost immediately, and sheepishly she tucks her chin deeper into the neckline of her jacket, praying that her face is hidden as she walks past the group.
When Nora reaches inside her half-zipped gym bag for her water bottle, she swears to herself when the strap detaches from the siding and the nylon bag falls to the cement. Making sure everything is strapped appropriately, she heaves the bag over her shoulder once it’s zipped up. As she swings her elbow to place the bag comfortably around her body, she doesn’t take into account her proximity to a particularly shiny black SUV—and just before she can escape the parking lot undetected, her bag smashes against the hood of the car, causing the headlights to flicker on and off and the alarm to blare piercingly through the space.
“Hey!” Nora hears from behind her. When she turns she sees Harry jogging towards her, his brown hair dripping from the shower he just took. He’s wearing joggers and a Townbridge Academy Soccer sweatshirt, and when he reaches inside his pocket and reveals a shiny key fob, Nora swears for the second time knowing that the fancy car she just accidentally hit belonged to him.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” His voice is booming through the parking lot and it’s enough to make Nora feel incredibly small. When he finally presses the alarm button on his key and the blaring stops, she can hear his exasperated breaths in its place, and she’s not quite sure what’s worse.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“—I saw the whole thing, Harry!” Alyssa calls over from her spot across the cement, walking towards the pair of them with an accusatory finger extended in Nora’s direction. “She slammed her gym bag against your car.”
“It was an accident!” Nora screeches, feeling her face turning red. “My bag strap fell off and when I went to put it back on my shoulder, I bumped your car. Not, er, intentionally.”
Harry looks between the two girls with an annoyed expression on his face. “Just be more careful, yeah? It’s brand new.”
When Nora looks at the behemoth of a vehicle to her left, observing the shiny black exterior with the words Range Rover written across the front in chrome lettering, she can only imagine the outrageous price tag it has. Which is why she nods, apologizing one last time.
“Won’t happen again.” Nora begins to turn around on her heel, just as the air begins to get cooler and the slightest smell of rain can be detected in the distance.
“You’re walking all the way to Donahue in the rain?” Harry asks suddenly, and Nora begins to wonder how he even knows she lives in that building. She pauses, thinking if he or Alyssa or any one of their stupid friends lives in Donahue, and when she comes up with nothing, she turns around with a confused expression on her face.
“Uh, yeah. I don’t have a car.” Before she can feel the first drop of rain hit her skin, laughter erupts from the small group surrounding Harry and his car. Nora hides her face, wishing the ground would swallow her up.
With one last gulp, Nora turns around and begins walking towards the footpath, shoving the hood of her flimsy rain jacket over her head.
“Well, at least your hair is already wet!” Nora hears Alyssa call out from behind her, with more laughter following until Nora’s a safe distance away from where she can no longer be scrutinized by Harry and his rude friends.
As Nora reaches Donahue Hall with her tracksuit bottoms sticking to her legs like a second skin and her jacket completely drenched, all she can think about is how she’d rather walk another ten miles before ever having another conversation with Alyssa Whalen and Harry Styles if her life fucking depended on it.
***
A/N: Here’s chapter two! We’ve finally met Harry and Alyssa (yikes), so feel free to share with me your thoughts and predictions for the next part! High school is a funny time period to write about, and I’m excited to share the next part with you all. Look out for it on Friday, February 19th, which will be the normal update schedule. Until then, stay safe! x
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Families Lost and Found
Here we go, a brand new story, ft Jasonette, with a side of badass Marinette.
Marinette had many fond memories of being young. Her Mama singing her ancient lullabies as she combed her jet black hair. Visiting with Aunt Talia twice a year, and meeting her Godson Damain Al Ghul. Celebrating Chinese New Year with her maternal family in China, and being slipped small weapons along with her hongbao, eating jian dui with her cousins in between lessons. Her Aunties teaching her how to use her beauty to beguile and bewilder. Her Uncles showing her how to hold a knife. Her Maa-Maa showing her how to sew hidden pockets into all her clothes, and Ah-Gung showing her the many pressure points on a man that could cripple someone in seconds. Her older female cousins taught her how to use her bu yao as a deadly weapon, all the soft spots on a person that would hurt the worst when stabbed with the sharpened hair ornaments. Her older male cousins lessons were in subterfuge and misdirection. By the time she was seven, Marinette was well aware that most girls her age weren’t taught these things. But hey, Marinette was the next head of the Parisian branch of the Triad. Her younger cousin Bridgette would be her second in command, as she was the daughter of Maa-Maa and Ah-Ghung’s second child, Marinette’s Uncle Lee Cheng. Marinette knew her second and third cousins were scattered across Europe, ruling their branches with a velvet covered iron fist, as they were all taught, by family law.
She had been on her way home from a ‘family gathering’, really just a meeting at the front Cousin Yo owned, a large rental hall that could be equipped for any even. In reality, it was a trimonthly gathering of all heads of the Triad’s French branch. They were all, aside from her and her mother, from different cities across the country. She was almost back to her penthouse when she saw it, a man leaning against the wall of her building and staring at the five star Italian restaurant across the street. The restaurant that just so happened to be her eighteenth birthday gift from Mama, and a front for a smuggling ring the Triad had started almost ten years ago. They didn’t smuggle drugs or guns, but refugees, people who needed a new place to call home for some reason or another. Could he be a cop? Or worse, from the Russians? They had been rearing their heads again, trying to push their experimental heroine blend onto Triad streets, and Sabine had been sure to stomp them into the dust.
Waving her hand nonchalantly, her guards paused, and Marinette advanced on the man. His eyes snapped to hers, and his gaze seemed to bore into her very soul. His hair was peeking out from under a rather beat up beanie, and most of it was black, aside from a few white strands hanging over his eyes. She could see that under his mismatched clothes, he was wrapped like a mummy in bandages.
“Sir, are you okay?” She asked, raising her hands to show she means no harm.
“I... I’m from Talia. She said to find -” He manage to get out, before his eyes roll back in his head and he drops like a brick.
“Boys!” Marinette calls, and her guards, two men from the Italians, ‘gifted’ to her as goodwill gifts on her sixteenth birthday, Tony and Bobby, leapt into action, grabbing the man under the arm and throwing his arms over their shoulders. Marinette grabbed her key card from her phone wallet and swiped it at the keypad that opened the door to the lobby. The building was owned entirely by members of the Triad, filled with families of those in service to the organization. It was securely guarded 24/7, and the higher up in the building you were, the higher ranked you were. Marinette was in the penthouse, an entire floor to herself. Her guards and closest confidants had apartments on the floor just below her. Waving off the doorman, Marinette made her way straight for the elevator bay and pressed the call button for her personal elevator.
The ride was agonizingly slow, but after what felt like hours, the car arrived at her hallway. Digging her keys out of her purse, Marinette quickly unlocked the door and ushered her guards inside.
“Set him on the couch and go home, I need to check him for injuries.” Tony and Bobby shared a discomforted look, but nodded and obeyed her orders. Marinette quickly grabbed her first aid kit from the bathroom, a massive, clunky thing that could probably stock a small doctor’s office for days. When she came back, the man was still asleep on the couch, breathing slowly and deep. Now that she looked him over more carefully, his clothes were clearly stolen, as none of them seemed to fit quite the same. With a sigh, Marinette drew the medical scissors from the case and began to casually cut away his jacket. Underneath that was a hoodie, with presumably another layer underneath. This would take a while. Sighing, Marinette pulled away and threw aside the scraps of material. There didn’t seem to be any blood on him, but she would have to keep going to be sure. After the hoodie came a long sleeve shirt and a tank-top, and he was left coated in bandages from the waist up. He was swaddled like a damn mummy, oddly enough. He had mentioned Auntie Talia...could she have? No, Great-Uncle Ras would never allow some random outsider or underling to be bathed in the pits, he was far too possessive for that.
Right as she started cutting upwards from the hem of the man’s pant legs, he sat bolt right up, gasping. He saw her and scrambled backwards, while Mari just raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.
“Where am I?” He demanded, eyes darting around the living room.
“Relax, my name is Marinette, and you’re in Paris, in my penthouse. I found you outside, you collapsed. My guards and I brought you in. I started cutting away your clothes so that I could assess you for injuries. I believe you’ve had some experience with my Auntie Talia and her League, and she sent you to find me. She would have said to find ‘she who rises’. It’s the meaning of my name, Marinette. Now, please sit down. I’m not armed, and I don’t intend to harm you. Look, you can pat me down if you need to make sure I’m not armed at all.” The man gave her a wary look, before taking a deep breath and sitting back down on the couch, perched on the very edge of the cushion. Good, Auntie Talia had instilled him with some preservation instincts.
“So, Auntie? I’m going to assume you’re related to Ras and Damain, then.”
“Not at all.” Marinette scoffed. “My family runs the Parisian Triad, and all future heads are trained by the League for a year and a day. Ras trained my mother at the same time as Talia was beginning to train. They consider themselves sisters, making Talia my Auntie. I am, however, Damian’s godmother. He’s a sweet boy, once you put aside the homicidal tendencies. Are you hungry? I can have the place across the street, the one you were staking out, run us some food. Anything specific you want? Their ravioli is to die for.”
“That would...that would be great. I’ll eat anything.” The man (who looked to be around her age, late twenties) seemed caught off guard by her kindness.
“So, it appears you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” Marinette commented, texting James, the head chef of Nona Gina’s to bring over her usual plus a plate of ravioli.
“My name is Jason. So, you mentioned the Parisian Triad.”
“Yup. My Mama is the current head, I have a year and a half before I take over. Tradition states I become head on my twenty-fifth birthday.”
“Any chance you’re looking for a new body guard? I’m gonna need to find a job, and I can guarantee that I’m good.” Marinette paused, thinking for a moment. Both her guards were more than adequate, but Bobby had come to her last week, and asked to be transferred to a more sedate job, as his wife (Laura, a lovely woman) had just birthed their third child, and he wanted a little more time off. Jason, on one hand, was likely League trained, and probably had no where else to go. On the other hand, he was a complete unknown, and it would be a week at least before she would be able to contact Auntie Talia and have a response as to whether the man was telling the truth. Well, Bridgette always said she was too soft.
“Good news for you is, I am. You can start as soon as the family doctor looks you over and gives you a clean bill of health. The issue is, what will your cover be?”
“Er, cover?” Jason asked.
“I’m going to need an excuse to suddenly have a random guy escorting me all over Paris, and it’s not exactly common knowledge that I’m the next head of the Triad. I’m also something of a public figure here in Paris.” Marinette blushed at the reminder. Her brand, MDC, had taken off not long after she graduated, thanks to Jagged bragging about her at every turn. “I mean,” she snorted. “we could go the route of claiming you’re my boyfriend or something.” Giggling, Marinette stood and made her way towards her room. “Try to think of something, while I grab a quick shower. I can’t stand family meetings.” Leaving Jason seated on the couch, lost in thought, Marinette shut her door behind her and fired off a quick text to the number saved as “Auntie T’ in her main phone, before grabbing a pair of pajamas from her walk in and heading to the attached bathroom. She had some thinking to do.
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everything i do (gonna think of you)
pairing: finn/poe dameron
fandom: star wars (sequel trilogy
rating: teen and up
word count: 4690
warning: swearing, alcohol
summary: Finn and Poe are on a break. Neither of them are okay. But Finn hears Poe singing about him on the radio, and they'll be okay. Always. (musician poe, artist finn, long distance break-up + getting back together)
(it’s been ages but my space bfs, it’s good to be back!! a long overdue installment in my finnpoe alphabet series. did not expect e to be the most difficult letter to work with !!! thank you to Cat / @wendigostag as ALWAYS for beta reading and supporting my messy ideas 🥰 love uuuu. enjoy??)
read on ao3
“And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, I’m sure!”
The audience erupts in a half-laughter, half-cheer, and the host smiles, looking a bit too tired for his age.
“Tonight’s special performance is by someone who has, quite frankly, taken the whole of America - and dare I say the world? - by storm!”
Previous cheers resurface, louder and more certain than before. Even a few wolf whistles, making the presenter laugh as well.
“Here to perform his new single ‘cardigan’ from the debut album ‘folklore’, Poe Dameron!”
Quite literally everyone in the studio goes crazy, and as the camera directs towards the stage, a light turns on and reveals the curly haired man in all his glory.
He smiles slyly to the audience. A few noises, bordering on the line of screaming, makes him chuckle, but he puts all his focus on the guitar. Snaps, strums, and as the piano starts accompanying him, a soft voice forming strange and unfamiliar words.
Finn wipes the tear away in frustration before it even gets a chance to move, just tiny droplets stinging his vision. He’s sniffling, and biting his cheek, staring at the already half-empty bottle of red wine on the table.
Never in his life has he ever felt more pathetic, that’s true.
He doesn’t know why he’s watching this. And judging by the two texts pinging in on his phone, his best friend Rey somehow knows he’s doing it, too.
His vision’s too blurry to type, he thinks. Fuck it, pour another glass of wine. Who cares?
On the screen, Poe smiles while singing each word. But Finn knows the man better than anyone in that studio to know that it’s not really a smile. It’s the kind that his boyfriend- ex-boyfriend put on at their last FaceTime call. The one where he suggested they took a break.
He figures he should turn off the television when the performance comes to an end. No need to rub anymore salt in the wound, as Rey said.
Yet Finn sticks around for the interview because… because what? He hates himself? He hates Poe?
Neither. Maybe he misses him. Of course he misses him, enough to fight back the sobs, far from sober. But he’ll fight that obvious realisation, as well.
“Thank you for coming in tonight!” the host tells the singer, who thanks him in turn for the opportunity. Always the golden boy. The image of polite, kind, heart full of love, yet so goddamn stubborn.
“Mothers love me.” Poe had told him, back in college, the smug idiot. Finn’s mother loves him.
It’s mostly questions about the album, the upcoming tour, pictures of his parents and his pearly whites gleam when he speaks of them, how proud they are of him. It envelops Finn like a warm embrace. Huh. They haven’t hugged in five months.
They haven’t seen each other in five months.
Then the host starts grinning like a maniac, and he’s got a hunch what’s coming now is what he’s been wanting to ask all along, “Evidently, you got a lot of ladies who love you here.”
Audience cheers. Poe runs a hand through his hair. He’s so nervous, it’s adorable.
“You got a special lady in your life?” a question that quiets the audience significantly, still, waiting.
The singer glances at his shoes like they’re the most fascinating thing in the universe. Finn can’t hold his glass still, because, yeah. He looks like he’s thinking about it too hard. He wants to save him from that situation.
And although it feels like a million years pass, it’s probably only ten seconds before the reply settles, “Not at the moment, no.”
The crowd is nothing less than thrilled. And not only women, as the host implied, nah, everyone in that studio recognizes what a heartthrob Poe Dameron is. Finn couldn’t agree more.
What he knows about his ex-boyfriend that the strangers in the TV don’t know is, obviously, that Poe’s not interested in the ladies.
So does his family and close friends, anyone out of show business, really.
He also knows why his ex-boyfriend isn’t out to the public about his sexuality, yet. Or he’s got an idea. Maybe. Finn convinces himself of that, because then, he can also convince himself that he’s not the only one still feeling he’s being torn to pieces by this breakup. Feels better.
*
Although the screen connecting to his boyfriend’s call tugs on his heartstrings with its familiar warmth, Finn is, above all, pissed.
And for some reason, he feels ashamed for that. He knows he shouldn’t.
Poe hasn’t been home in a month. He was supposed to be here two weeks ago, but due to press bookings, credit to his boyfriend’s brand new agent, he called Finn late at night apologising like a broken record and promising to make it up to him.
And it makes him feel like shit.
Every apology made him feel more guilty for… harboring his time. Which is crazy, because they’ve been going steady for three years. They talked about this, the possibility of long distance, and knew, definitely, that it was gonna be hard, especially since they’ve been attached by the hip for so long.
Thing is, this has happened three times now, and it’s made Finn question himself.
Is he good enough for Poe? then later, another thought creeps in, Is Poe tired of him? or… is he not in love with him anymore?
Finn feels like he’s going crazy.
And even when he sees his boyfriend’s soft curls and eyes full of sunshine pop on his phone, it’s those thoughts that still inhabit his head. Fuck.
“Baby!” Poe says, excitement gleaming right through him and into Finn’s bedroom. They’ve been talking about moving in together, but, well, with long distance, mostly only talk for now. He’s off chasing the fame, which he deserves more than anyone, thank you very much, and Finn’s already booked up with art galleries and auctions eagerly grasping for his paintings. It feels like they’ve made it.
Except, “Phasma’s got me on Jimmy Kimmel! Like, can you believe that?!” his boyfriend spills out everything from this week, and it warms Finn’s chest, his gut, all the way down to his toes. But at the same time, this being Poe’s first words to him stirs weirdly alongside that warmth.
His career’s important. Of course. Finn’s happy for him, like, over the moon, all the way across the solar system happy.
He wants him to be successful. So then… then why does it feel like Poe prioritises it over them? It’s probably him overthinking it, he reasons. Again.
Finn can definitely feel he’s supposed to be sleeping right now; that’s another thing, cursed with being in vastly different time zones. He listens, smiling half-tiredly, thoughts wandering to everything and nothing.
Which is why he finds himself, all of a sudden, replying to his boyfriend’s, “I, uh, I’m actually writing you another song. Don’t laugh, please,” with, “A secret kind of song? ”
It takes Poe by surprise, visibly, and it takes himself, as well.
Finn bites down on his tongue in the cringe of it all. His boyfriend’s blinking, slowly, probably waiting for some sort of elaboration, but when he has no idea what to say, Poe inquires, “What do you mean?”
He sighs. Wholeheartedly, wistfully, nostalgic.
Finn thinks about when Poe asked him out, driving up to his window in true cheesy romantic comedy style and having offered to write essays in exchange for a school marching band performance.
Their first date, eating cotton candy and the curly haired boy insisting on trying and failing to win Finn a prize, until finally facing defeat. He won Poe a prize instead, first try, so the previous grumpiness faded in a matter of seconds. The butterflies threatened to burst his stomach the entire day.
Their first time, clumsy and awkward, teeth clanging in kisses and stupid buttons in Finn’s shirt being stuck and they laughed until they were out of breath. It was more perfect than anything either of them could’ve imagined.
He thinks about this, because neither of them were out before they got together.
This coming out thing? It scared the shit out of Finn. He was so lucky to have a supportive family, supportive friends. The school was a mixed experience, but he and Poe were in it together. His boyfriend tried to play it cool, but he knew how scared he was, too. He knows like the back of his hand, almost.
And this concern, it makes him feel so guilty he might vomit.
“I just… I was just wondering if you wanted to be official.”
“We are official, Finn.”
“No, I-I mean, public.”
He gulps around the growing lump in his throat. Poe goes scarily quiet.
This is also something they’ve talked about before. Fame is so new, it’s a whole new leap, learning how to handle all this, so it didn’t bother either of them to be secretive about their relationship, so to speak.
Their close network still knew, obviously, but the music industry, Hollywood, that’s way, way different than Finn’s newly established and growing network of artist connections and colleagues.
It wasn’t a problem. Until it was.
Coming out is personal. But ever since his boyfriend said he wanted to go public, then didn’t, as they were both on edge, then decided they should move in together and go public to slam down journalists linking Poe to a member of a girl group he met last summer, then didn’t.
It’s happened a couple of times. And finally, it seems, Finn is coming to terms with being tired of being ready and then backing out.
He’s terrified. Terrified of Poe being embarrassed of him, which he knows sounds crazy, also. But fuck.
“Baby, we’re gonna do it,” his boyfriend reassures him, but he’s distraught now, “You know we are. My agent just talks about my image, you know, I need to make sure-”
“Your image?”
That… that pisses Finn off. Conclusively. Because what the fuck?
“Phasma thinks we should do it at Christmas, season of love, you know?” Poe smiles shyly, he always loved the holidays. And he just doesn’t know how to react. “She’s fine with it, like, she didn’t ask me to fake being straight, like the guy I talked with before. Just-
“Are you embarrassed of me, Poe?” he finds the words slipping out before he can stop his mouth.
His boyfriend’s eyes widen significantly on the small screen, opens and closes his mouth several times, and there’s definitely a yell from somewhere in the studio, but Poe ignores it completely, “Of course not. Finn, I’m the luckiest guy in the world because of you. I just really… really think we need to time this right.”
“I,” Finn starts, but he’s barely sure where he’s going with the sentence. All he knows is that he’s scared Poe might tell him that all this time meant nothing to him. He doesn’t know why he leaps to that, but he does. His boyfriend might find something better than him in the limelight, “I know. You’ve told me, and I get it, I do. It’s just difficult being so far away from you, and then…”
He feels himself drifting off into a cloud of numbness and nothing, but Poe interrupts the sentence, “I thought you’d be more supportive of my career.”
Finn nearly jumps. The words don’t sound cold, per say. But it’s weird. The good old butterflies flutter hesitantly, sort of in question.
“I am, darling, I-” he sighs again, “I’ve always been. You’ve just seemed like you’re ready, and I got the feeling that your agent didn’t want you to, and-”
“Phasma wants it.”
“But on Christmas, Poe. This Christmas. I’m just scared you’re…” Finn shakes his head at himself, decides to be completely honest, because that’s how relationships work. Right? “Waiting for the moment to end this.”
“End this?” his boyfriend’s voice raises just an octave, looking perpetually confused. He also, admittedly, looks pissed. Hurt. “Do you want to break up with me?”
“No! Why would I-
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
Finn rubs his eyes, feels like they’re on goddamn fire. Poe’s biting his lips, rummaging around after moving what he assumes is a more private room than before, and avoiding eye contact. They shouldn’t be doing this on the phone. They shouldn’t be doing this at all.
He wishes his boyfriend was next to him, so he could curl up on his chest and sleep the entire weekend. It’s all he wants.
Ultimately, Finn makes the suggestion, “Baby, I’m sorry, I just… why don’t I call you next time you’re free? Or can you… are you getting back anytime soon?”
He doesn’t know how to describe this feeling, what’s happening, in any other way than it seems like Poe’s on a different planet than him, drifting in a meteor rain.
What Finn doesn’t expect least of all is his boyfriend’s answer, “Nah, you know, if you feel like that, we should take a break. A breather.”
And Poe smiles, but he sees through that bullshit. It doesn’t reach his eyes.
He’s trying to play it cool. Fuck. Why are Finn’s eyes stinging, now?
“A break?”
“Yeah.”
That’s so much to process. Fucking process it. The protests are bubbling under his skin, boiling and ice cold at the same time, but he doesn’t get the time when the yells on the end of the world resume.
“I really should go.” Poe tells him, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to.
“Poe…” he tries to breathe around the butterflies currently panicking inside of him. He’d scream at them to stop for just five seconds, if he could. His boyfriend’s already getting up from the seat, which is why Finn pinches the bridge of his nose and tries not to look at him, “Okay. Okay.”
The silence that settles between them, then, until they end the call in confusion and boiled up emotion, is far from the comfort they’ve been accustomed to. It ends without a goodbye. Without an I love you.
So, naturally, he gets absolutely zero sleep that night.
*
Whenever Rey told them they were being overdramatic, she was probably right. This is no exception.
Ever since the damnation of their FaceTime call, Finn tried to get into his head what went down. Namely, him and his boyfriend speaking over each other’s heads. It settles in the morning, the realisation that Poe assumed the worst of what he said, while he himself didn’t understand why he couldn’t come home . Just one day. Just to talk this out.
But in a recognizable stubborn fashion, his boyfriend ignored his calls and texts for the weekend. Finn tried so, so hard not to get pissed again. But also, Poe actively avoiding him made him want to cry. Not being able to just hear his voice made him want to cry.
Naturally, the following week, when his boyfriend decided to reach out, Finn became the one to ignore all forms of contact. It felt like they were walking in circles.
This is new and raw territory.
Finn and Poe don’t fight. It’s a basic law of the universe.
Which is why he doesn’t blame Rey for widening her eyes in shock at this new development. He also knows that she wants to intervene, badly so, given how protective she is of them, but because she’s lovely she always somehow knows when Finn needs his own space to think. Or scream into the void a little bit, whatever does the trick.
He’s pretty sure she didn’t expect this to go on for four months, now. He sure as hell didn’t expect it.
But… they’re both to blame. Finn’s pretty much dug himself a hole in the ground filling up with all his feelings, and as every week passes by, waits for his boyfriend to make the first move. He expects Poe to do the same. Nothing’s moving forward.
So, if Rey didn’t know him as she did, she’d ask him why.
Why don’t you just call him? He could. When his boyfriend stopped ignoring him, that is. Thing is, Finn’s world is sort of crumbling right now, and a confrontation with that isn’t something he can handle, he thinks.
It’s the thought of losing Poe for good. It’s the thought of Poe thinking Finn doesn’t want him anymore, when in fact he fears the exact opposite.
After watching that interview, though, he could breathe a little easier, he’ll admit.
And it’s weird. He felt inherently about a hundred times worse during it. The day after, he just kept thinking about Poe and his stupid curls and his nervous smile and what he might be doing while Finn was helping his sister with the dishes.
Maybe it’s knowing his boyfriend- ex-boyfriend (?) is okay. Does look more okay than himself.
It calms him. The next day, it makes Finn want to burn up all their polaroids and mail the ashes to the singers’ hotel in a massive envelope. As said before, this hole is deep, too deep, making it difficult to be rational.
A week after the interview, he’s just about on the edge to complete numbness.
Maybe he’s been reading those hilarious dumb gossip magazines whenever his boyfriend was on the cover. Shut up. If he acknowledges the ridiculousness of that, it’ll only make it worse.
Finn feels weak for being this torn up after a breakup… or break. He’s had breakups before Poe, but none of them hurt like this. Does it ever just fucking stop?
Apparently not, because when he picks up the phone with Rey’s name flashing, Finn expects it to be another question of what’s going on. How he’s doing, or not even a question, but an order to let her in as she’s probably already standing in front of his building carrying ice cream and bad horror movies.
He doesn’t get why she doesn’t just use the key he got her already, but it’s still endearing. Except, “Turn on the radio.”
“What?
“Finn, turn on your radio. Trust me.”
And so he scrambles around, the determination in her voice definitely not something to mess around with. Finn eventually uncovers it underneath the mountain of Poe’s vinyl records, and while his best friend doesn’t even tell him what station she’s referring to, he’s got a feeling about it.
Also, it’s the first station that pops through the speakers when he turns it on, so.
Then, he has absolutely no idea what to listen for. The hosts are making some jokes about the song they’re gonna play next, thereozing about a “lost love” , and Finn’s about to ask until he realises Rey’s hung up on him, and a text.
just wait. u won’t regret it.
It’s too ominous for his best friend’s usual shenanigans. He’s a little worried.
But unlike the last hellish, unbelievable four months, Finn doesn’t have much time to worry, before the voices announce, “We present an exclusive live performance from our new favorite heartthrob, Poe Dameron!”
Oh God. Oh God, oh shit, oh my god.
Naturally, Finn’s anxiety kicks in like a punch in his gut.
In fact, he’s about to pull up his best friend’s contact again, sick of hearing the single that Poe wrote for him and not even being able to revel in the feeling anymore. Only it’s not ‘cardigan’.
Four months ago, a few days before they decided to take a break, his boyfriend sent him a couple of voice notes, containing lyrics and guitar pieces and other bits for the album he wanted Finn’s approval on. He always wanted his opinion first. It makes him all warm again.
This song, however, is brand new, unheard to everyone’s ears. Including Finn.
“I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit
Been saying "yes" instead of "no"
I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though
I hit the ground running each night
I hit the Sunday matinée
You know the greatest films of all time were never made”
The melody has the same calm like the other songs he’s heard, an image of fairytales and bare feet dancing in the woods and stars twinkling in the night.
The melancholy is unfamiliar, though.
“I guess you never know, never know
And if you wanted me, you really should've showed
And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow
And it's alright now”
Finn’s thumb hovers over Rey’s contact name, but he can’t bring himself to move.
It’s the alright part. Except, despite how much he tries to lie to himself, he swears to everything god that his boyfriend’s voice breaks over the word. It’s subtle enough that the interviewers could pass it on as him being hoarse, he reasons, but Poe can’t fool him.
He wants him to be okay. Actually, no, because being okay means not missing Finn like Finn misses him, and that would hurt more than anything he can imagine. But also, he’s too far away for a reassuring hand. That’s why he wants him to be okay.
“But we were something, don't you think so?
Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool
And if my wishes came true
It would've been you”
For some reason, it’s only then it settles into Finn’s mind.
Oh.
Oh.
The song keeps going, and his emotions keep going, from the chaotic jumbled mess he’s become accustomed to a quiet buzz. He feels like his breathing’s slowed down, and a pocket in his heart is being emptied onto the floor.
Poe feels exactly the same way, he imagines. He has to.
Finn’s abandoned his phone somewhere unknown between the couch cushions, and he’s stuck staring at the empty wine bottle he hasn’t had the energy to get rid of, his microwave dinner half eaten, until his ex-boyfriend’s song comes to an end.
‘the 1’ is the title. He doesn’t know if he’s crying or not, which sounds a bit dumb in his own head.
“Poe Dameron!” one of the interviewers yells obnoxiously, clearly trying to hold in their excited giggling, “Those were quite emotional lyrics. I’m guessing there’s a story there somewhere?”
Finn could roll his eyes into the next century at that comment. Jesus Christ.
The singer’s complained about these kinds of people before, of course, he chuckles, politely, hesitantly, probably spinning the best way to avoid opening that door of vulnerability on open air, “I think everyone writes from their own experience, really.”
His voice has the same elegance and softness and gruff that makes Finn think of home, despite the tinny speakers and distraction that vibes off of him, all the way over in the states. It’s unbelievable.
The interview keeps going in the most standard way possible, a couple more questions Poe subtly circles around (including about dating, obviously), some jokes, and they eventually get to that segment where the listeners can call in and ask their own question to the dreamy man.
Some are boring, some are weird, some are intrusive, some are just teen voices in awe of his relatability and what not, mountains of flattery which his boyfriend is all too shy and starstruck to handle.
Finn bites his lip.
They repeat the number of the radio twice. The programme ends at nine. That means about forty five minutes of fan questions.
He shouldn’t. This is ridiculous. But what if… what?
Poe’s voice somehow carries his hand to fish the phone up again, though, like a strike of magic. And then the tone sounds, one, two, three, and it’s too late to take it back now. Shit.
“You’re live! Can our next lucky listener introduce yourself and your question?”
He tries so hard, desperately so, to swallow around the lump in his throat, seeming impossibly massive. The eerie silence is simply too painful to bear, though, so Finn squeezes his eyes shut hard for two seconds, before forcing the reply out.
“Yes, uh, hi. This is Finn Solo. From Pennsylvania.”
A beat. “Pennsylvania?! Well, honey, that’s actually Poe Dameron’s home state, isn’t it?”
Two beats. The singer clears his throat. “Yeah.” Clearly, he recognizes his voice in an instant. Well, obviously, he’d be shocked if he didn’t. Still, Finn feels like curling up in a ball and hiding from the world. He wonders if Rey’s listening, right now.
The interviewer seems unfazed from Poe’s hesitated answer, or they just choose to ignore it, he supposes. “The floor is yours, Finn. Ask ahead!”
So… how is he supposed to do this, again?
This is the worst idea Finn’s had in his entire life. Seriously. And he accepted Rey’s dare to swing all the way up and around the swingset in fifth grade, he’s well aware of what reckless looks like. This is it.
Still, he’s stuck now. Poe’s listening to him. Kind of forced to.
And against his own better judgement, Finn silences the million overthinking thoughts in his inner ear by simply saying whatever hits him first, “Did you mean what you said? In the song?”
Seconds feel like fucking hours right now.
“Sorry, can you-” one of the hosts start, but he feels moved to continue. “When did you write it?”
It’s low, the feedback of his boyfriend’s microphone can just be made out. He prays that was only comprehensible enough for Poe’s own ears, because Finn could never possibly live with himself if he outed the person he loves most in the world. Seems so, given the interviewer once again asks the singer in confusion.
“What do you say, Poe? Do you need, uh… for him to elaborate?”
“No.” the man says simply, shyness seemingly having faded away in a glimpse. “Finn, I wrote this back in May.”
Four months ago. Same month as their FaceTime call.
“Only a week after our call. Took me five hours. I needed to get every word just right.” Poe says those words so steadily it shocks Finn. His hand feels numb and itchy around the tiny device, and one of the hosts gasps.
“I-” he starts, but has no idea where to go, where to turn. Finn didn’t expect any of this tonight. A deep breath is needed, “Do you mean… you wrote it about me?”
He feels like an absolute idiot for asking, even doubting it, but given the emotional rollercoaster he’s been through up until now, he’s grasping for straws of confirmation. Poe chuckles, barely audible.
“All my songs are about you, darling.”
What the fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Another gasp is heard in the studio, a little louder this time, but he sends a silent thanks, still, to them being too taken aback to intervene.
Okay, these are definitely tears in Finn’s eyes, now.
One rolls down, cool against his hot cheek, and he almost wants to laugh widely, processing what’s happening over and over in his brain.
What’s mostly replaying is the nickname that he’s missed… too much.
If they were in the same room, in front of each other, alone , he could say and ask a million things. This conversation is impossibly too vulnerable for open air, but Finn really thinks, really, that this step was needed. At least, it’s something he’s been longing to hear.
Instead of breaking down in the happiness and sadness he’s feeling, instead of talking about the miscommunication they’ve been the victim of, he smiles. Can’t stop. It’s hurting his whole face, actually, but his chest feels endlessly lighter.
“If… uh,” Finn chuckles at himself again, him and his stupid emotions, probably laced obviously in his voice, “Is there a chance that you still want to write songs about me?”
Poe laughs back, warmer and wobblier than before. “Of course. Of-fucking-course. There’s no one else I’d rather write about.”
Those hosts over there are probably freaking out big time, but Finn can’t bring himself to care much.
They sigh rather in unison. Him and his boyfriend. Breathing shaky and yet steadying themselves, almost. Together.
“Okay. Okay. Thank fuck,” he finds himself sniffling, “Okay.”
“They’ll always be about you.”
#mine#my writing#swedit#fanfiction#swcreators#stormpilot#finnpoe#finn x poe#starwarsedit#star wars fanfiction#queernet#eloquencenet#sabrinasfamily#usernessa#fanfic#teen and up#getting back together#long distance#tw: swearing#tw: alcohol#angst#happy ending#modern au#usersari#finnpoeedit#creatorssource
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(interview) vogue korea april issue 2020 - perfect taemin
1. superm was another chance for taemin’s ever-evolving performance to be showcased.
i thought a lot about how to create synergy with these exceptional performers. to put it simply, i wanted us to come off as energetic. but these days i’ve had a change of heart. our identity is definitely important. rather than just working hard, for superm to show off their colours well we need to show our personalities; we should be seen as one team. to be able to formulate a solid and clear colour is our homework. that’s why it’s regrettable. we couldn’t come up with a novel choreography to carry our new identity. we tried a lot in the practice room. superm seems to have found its musical identity but hasn’t gotten a hold of its performance character yet. the stages are too vague.
2. now that you are finally promoting with your best friend kai in one group, you two must’ve shared your concerns.
since this friend is someone who has a lot of passion and ambition, he talks about various things. for instance, this style is pretty good, this choreography is quite trendy. thanks to him i’ve learned a lot. he is also very knowledgeable about the latest ‘hottest’ genres. we talk about these things often and even watch videos together. kai gives off ‘popular’ vibes. compared to him, my interests are quite unusual. nowadays kai is interested in music while i am into science.
3. is it science fiction?
these days we’ve been watching videos on the theory of relativity and quantum mechanics together.
4. what aspect of it interested you?
originally i was very curious, after seeing a recommended video on youtube i learned about quantum mechanics for the first time. i couldn’t understand the explanation, even those who were explaining it said it was a difficult concept. that was very fascinating to me. kind of like magic.
5. are you reading books on the subject too?
the subjects of the books i read are different (laughs). there’s a book that was published long ago called ‘regarding the pain of others.’ it is a pessimistic book that gathers contradictory opinions of people for instance ‘people find joy in the pain of others, it is instinctual.’ as a celebrity, there are times when you are criticized but there are also times when you receive comfort from people. rather than blaming others, while reading this book, i began to think ‘people are like that, at most i shouldn’t behave like them.’ my interests are all over the place.
6. what makes you and kai click?
we converse well. our opinions almost never clash and we respect each other. moreover, we fully understand our own roles in superm.
7. what position do you hold in superm? since i can’t ask if it’s the main dancer.
in pictures and interviews, i’m the center. baekhyun hyung is the leader (laughs).
8. when the conversation wasn’t flowing well during the talkshow interview, i saw you neatly concluding it.
that does happen. nct and wayv are still in the learning phase. that’s why i first listen to all of their thoughts during interviews then flesh it out with details later.
9. compared to when you set out abroad as shinee then promoting overseas as superm now, the status of k-pop has changed.
looking at how superm was able to start off with an arena tour in the us and europe made me feel that k-pop is a ‘hot’ topic. in the past, we’d use venues of this scale for smtown concerts. even if you promote mainly in asia, seeing the audience section will make you realise the perception of k-pop has changed.
10. though k-pop’s scope has expanded and diversified, its definition has become simple. what are your concerns?
my first concern is language. after i was able to communicate via language during my japanese activities, there were so many advantages. though each country overseas has its own language, i felt that i needed to learn english first. there are many international fans who want to experience the chemistry between our members, they’d feel much closer to us if we communicated using (a common) language. k-pop isn’t one dimensional. it’s not only about the music, there is music video, style, etc. included. people would make dance covers in the past, now they even emulate the styling. all of this is korean pop culture.
11. superm were on the ellen degeneres show and jimmy kimmel live.
before we went on the ellen show we really rehearsed the interview a lot. america’s atmosphere is different so you receive questions that are never asked in korea. they don’t disclose the questions in advance either. we were also worried because the emcee could ad-lib. we came up with the most probable questions and practiced, we also received lessons from american comedians. compared to that, we went on jimmy kimmel live without any prep.
12. what went according to plan and what didn’t?
the questions were not as intense as expected, ellen was well aware about k-pop culture so it went smoothly.
13. is there a dance genre you’re into these days?
contemporary, lyrical hiphop, in the future as superm i think i’ll be able to show more, not the kind of dancing that you do after learning a given choreography but the kind that is full of emotions. it’s about giving meaning to your gestures. it isn’t out yet but my concert vcr features lyrical hiphop. in it i think i’m dancing alone with a giant full moon as my backdrop but get confused when there are two of us, either it’s another person or a shadow. a choreographer with a body type similar to mine had to dress in all black to come across as my shadow. i wore an oriental outfit with smokey makeup.
14. how do you usually come up with your ideas?
i get inspired by the choreographers and creative directors. i imagine it as we converse then the idea develops.
15. was there a time you were inspired by fashion?
of course. art begins with the five senses. what you see with your eyes, the things you can feel, clothes, food, perfume, music that you listen to are all sources of inspiration. i create private accounts to follow fashion brands.
16. having debuted at the age of 16, you are still young but your work experience has been long.
i was in certain situations because of this. it doesn’t happen as often now but even in my early 20s, i completely belonged to the senior category at broadcasting stations. they are my juniors but many of them are also hyungs, i’m their senior but i’m also the youngest. now there are even staff members who are younger than me. they’re too formal with me (laughs).
17. are there juniors that ask you for advice or help?
the superm members! especially ten, he is very curious. when we come out of a company meeting, he’ll get surprised and say “wow, hyung everything you said was right.” i even hear things like ‘veteran’ and ‘seer.’ apparently my predictions come true. but i try not to advise them as much. taking the initiative to say something feels overwhelming.
18. born in 1993 between millennials and gen z, do you share any characteristics with those in your age bracket? we’ve picked out a few of their traits. the first one is ‘they don’t eat fast food.’
me too! i took care of my health well ever since i started out with shinee. i was brainwashed from home to avoid foods that harmed the body. not even ramyeon, snacks were also banned. and just like that in my 20s i started carrying out the regime on my own. it’s become a habit to look after my health ever since i moved out. i always eat things that are good for my body, if the hyungs are taking vitamins, i’d ask for one too.
19. i suddenly recall a variety show where you were the only one who skipped the sauce and ate the meat on its own!
one should not eat irritable foods. my mother’s words.
20. how about ‘they watch videos on youtube rather than tv. even the ads don’t particularly bother them.’
that’s right. i watch youtube more often than tv, while watching the ads i'd even marvel at their production quality. i’ve signed up for the premium package now so i don’t see the ads anymore.
21. ‘marrying or wanting to buy their own house.’
i currently live alone and i have no interest in decking out my house. at first, i didn’t think like that but a month later my interest dissipated. i’m lazy. it’s not like my house is for others to see, i’m fine with the incomplete feeling for now.
22. and finally ‘they avoid investing in financial companies.’
i don’t do that. my parents manage that, if there’s a good tip i’ll just let them know.
23. hiphop musicians tend to express their success through music. as an idol musician how have you been using the wealth you accumulated all these years?
i invest in food instead of saving up (laughs). honestly, i don’t spend much. i don’t have anything i want. though i do spend on others a lot.
24. what kind of household did you grow up in? what gifts did you inherit from your family as a musician?
i inherited my body type. all of my cousins have model-like physiques, they’re taller and slimmer than me. my mother sings well. my father plays instruments as a hobby. oh, and my paternal aunt used to be a ballerina. so perhaps i inherited such genes?
25. you’ve been doing the same thing for more than 10 years. what is the purpose behind creating music and showcasing it?
in the past, i would think i should do well, i need to be number one, these days i’ve become ambitious for other aspects. i take pride in the fact that my work supplies others with positive energy. i feel a sense of accomplishment when fans like my music, i want to make them as happy as i am. everyone’s profession is different but i hope this synergy gained from mutual dependence leaves a good impression.
26. are you still composing songs?
i used to but now i only participate in lyric writing. it differs with each song, at times the lyrics are emotional or talk about abstract love. it seems like my next solo album will include a song i wrote the lyrics to. sometimes songs composed by overseas composers might prove too difficult for the general public to understand. so i participate a lot in the arrangement or mixing phase. i point out the parts that should be added to the composition and those that are unneeded. teacher lee soo man does give advice but it often feels like i do the producing of my own solo album.
27. taemin’s originality is the clearest when he promotes as a solo artist. which song has best represented your identity?
i worked hard on all of them but there was a turning point. at first there was ‘danger’ then ‘press your number’ was a conceptual performance, the transition to ‘move’ turned out well. i wanted to break out from the typical choreography routine and create my own identity, the resulting performances were ‘move’ and ‘want.’ my next solo album is again different. i’ve been making a lot of changes these days.
28. you seem to have high standards when it comes to composing music. was there ever an occasion where you absolutely refused to compromise and gave others a hard time?
everyone is used to it (laughs). it’s something i learned from the head manager hyung who’s been with me since debut. the belief that ‘there is nothing that can’t be done. there is no such thing as impossible.’ another team manager hyung would tell me ‘you remind me of our head’ (laughs). honestly, the staff around me work beyond their given roles and with affection. normally work timings are from 9 to 7, they stay back till 10-11 pm for me. they don’t hold it against me, and when things do well, they too feel a sense of fulfillment together with me.
29. the new unreleased song must be quite different from the original then.
there are already 12 versions of the song. when i thought we were somewhat done, we recently started arranging it again (laughs).
30. you hold your body to specific standards for the best performance outcome.
i don’t ‘bulk up.’ previously, i used to work out when i ate a lot but my body would feel weighed down, it wasn’t what i wanted. if i gain a lot of muscles or become thick, it hampers my dancing form. that’s why i don’t put on weight. i train my stamina and strength and avoid bulking up my shoulders and arms.
31. by the way, do you do neck exercises as well? i was touched looking at your long neck in the vogue photoshoot.
i had been noticing this too, now i know the reason! i think it’s because i dance. a lot of resistance goes into the neck when you dance. our head is the heaviest and it’s the neck that supports it. it goes away when i rest for a few days. we’re shooting amidst the superm tour maybe that’s why it looks thicker now.
32. an editor who has been watching you closely for a long time said that you’ve become extroverted. could it be that experience and relationships have made you comfortable and secure?
i’ve lowered my guard. i couldn’t reveal my current self to others before. as a child i used to be so introverted that i’d hide behind my mother when strangers would get into the elevator. i changed with time.
33. is your ever-present smile a product of your personality or just business decorum?
i’m always smiling. i even laugh at things other people don’t find funny (laughs).
34. shinee members are currently serving in the army. when they’re on break what kind of advice or nagging do they subject you to?
i wish they would do that. we have a group chat on kakaotalk and i always revive it by asking “what’s up” “happy new year.” but as soon as the conversation picks up they only talk about the army. when i inform them about an issue at the company they say “really?” then it’s military talk again. when i feel left out and tell them to stop, they reply with “you’ll understand when you get here.”
35. in your career as a musician, when do you feel the best?
when it’s time to reveal all that i’ve been preparing for so long! it feels different from finishing it. the first stage after debuting, shinee’s first concert, performing at tokyo dome, receiving the award... these are the moments that come to mind.
36. watching taemin grow for the past decade has been a huge source of strength. what are your dreams now?
there are many. first of all, once shinee comes back again, i want the entire group to give off a feeling of revival. usually after getting discharged, it’s hard to keep up with the next generation, i want to avoid that. i’ve imagined it all when the shinee members return. second, i want to perform a lot on various stages as a solo artist. superm topped the billboard 200 album chart, it’d be nice to enter the top 10 on the hot 100 digital chart as well.
37. you are really talented at setting goals.
i’ve gotten greedier. it’s just not for myself but i want to do it for the fans and members, even the staff. they become my driving force. i really am lucky. everybody works hard but i even get the recognition for it. come to think of it, i was given many opportunities and i worked hard to make the most of them, i’m really happy my efforts paid off in the end. i’m surrounded by good people. shinee, superm, many people fill in the gaps for me that i can’t solve on my own.
38. superm’s concert title is ‘we are the future.’ when you hear the word ‘future’ what are you reminded of?
first, it’s h.o.t. (laughs). future-oriented things come to mind like artificial intelligence, drones, 3d hologram concerts. then again, in the future, though people might be able to watch concerts through holograms, i think humans will not give up on the tasks they themselves can do. my work will still be the same in the future.
39. the reason you don’t write anything on instagram.
i don’t have anything to say yet (laughs). i don’t know if i should make my instagram cool or approachable. when fretting between writing a caption or using an emoticon, i just end up leaving it blank. actually i signed up after my manager hyung suggested that instagram would be good. so i’ve made one but i still don’t know what to upload. i get teased by the people around me for putting up selfies. i even took lots of pictures especially for instagram but...
40. did you not post the pictures? the point of instagram is real-time communication.
is that so! i didn’t know (laughs).
translated by romanceboys — take out with full credit
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Richard Armitage interview on BBC Radio Northampton for Uncle Vanya (26/10/20)
Full transcript under cut
So he’s won awards for his role as Lucas in Spooks, as the dwarf prince Thorin Oakenshield in The Hobbit, and earlier this year he had us on the edge of our seats as the lead role in the brilliant Netflix series The Stranger. I love The Stranger. Did you see it? I thought it was absolutely brilliant. He’s brilliant in everything he does, I love Richard Armitage. Such a nice guy as well. Well with the pandemic interrupting it’s sold out West End run, Richard is part of an all-star cast bringing Chekov’s iconic play Uncle Vanya to our cinemas and homes as part of a brand new production. Ahead of today’s show I spoke to Richard about the play, and a bit about what it’s like to be a stage actor in Covid Britain.
---
How you doing?
Very well, thank you. This is an absolute honour to speak to you. Congratulations on a wonderful production.
Thanks! Did you see it?
I did! I did! Um-
Amazing.
-if I describe my morning to you, I woke up with a slight whisky hangover pondering my place in the world, and the first thing I did was open my laptop and watch Uncle Vanya, and *laugh* I have to say it was quite-
Oh, how was Vanya on a hangover? That’s probably like most of the characters in the play have a hangover, don’t they?
*Laugh* Well this is the thing – I found myself thinking ‘this is quite life-affirming’, because I was reflecting how human experience hasn’t really changed that much since 1897, and I just wondered as an actor whether Chekov’s understanding of human feelings – it must appeal to you, hugely.
I think that’s why actors go to Chekov, and actually he wrote so few plays compared to other playwrights that what he did do was really define how we approach character. Really, I mean he worked with Stanislavski, it’s the root of, of Western theatre and, and how we construct characters because he’s focused on the lived experience, rather than the plot so much. So most people kind of say “what’s Chekov about?”, and it’s really hard to describe what it’s about. But it’s about human beings and how they – how they bounce off each other and how they attract and how they repel.
Is it completely mad for me to say that, that watching it, it was my first introduction to the play and my first introduction to Chekov, I, I found myself thinking ‘well, this is almost like Big Brother’. It’s like watching a group of people relate in various ways in a claustrophobic lockdown, getting on each other’s nerves, and digging into old wounds, and then I found myself thinking this is, this is so timely for the, the Covid world we’re living in. Did that strike you?
It’s – uh, I, I guess until we started to experience what lockdown was like, suddenly again the play took on a relevance. I mean the last week of performing, when the, the sort of talk of the virus was, was emerging y’know in, in our world, and y’know I’d been speaking these lines for ten weeks as the doctor talking about a pandemic, and he’s turned to drink and he can’t deal with the trauma of losing patients, and suddenly the relevance was, was very high. But also in lockdown, I suddenly realised ‘now I understand what these characters have been going through’. So the – the chance to come back and, and sort of bring all of that experience into y’know, the re-staging of the play film was, y’know, it was really special to be able to do that.
It was really moving at the beginning, because you see your fabulous co-cast members returning to the theatre in face masks, and it was quite easy to find yourself a bit choked. What it a very emotional reunion?
It was because I was not able to be there. *Laugh* ‘Cause I’d just flown in from New York like with, with literally hours to spare before I had to lockdown for two weeks quarantine. So I couldn’t do that, I – I had to join a read-through on a computer via. a Zoom call, so I felt like I was being held back away from my friends and fellow actors. Which was useful for the doctor, ‘cause when he comes back into that house, that’s sort of what’s been happening to him. But every moment there was something to hang on to in terms of the emotions and, and what we’ve all been through.
The – the dialogue is so brilliantly natural, especially from a, a newbie to this world. And I, I think you describe yourself at the beginning, as Dr. Astrov, as feeling a bit wonky-
Yeah.
-and then we hear Toby Jones’ Uncle Vanya complaining about various people wanging on, and-
*Laugh*
-it’s brilliant, it’s moments that make you giggle, and I just wondered how important you think these linguistic touches are to help the drama engage a new audience?
Well it’s always gonna be a translation because we’re not performing in the original Russian, and y’know, that depends on which playwright decides to tackle it, and we were so lucky with Conor McPherson, ‘cause there’s a little bit of the Irish kind of glint in his eye that comes through that dialogue um, so these, these little touches make it feel like we’re just – it’s just us, it’s not y’know, characters a hundred years ago in a stuffy drawing room. These are, these are – it’s us y’know. We’re still the same, and we’re still dealing with the same problems, um weirdly within the state of – within the space of three months those same problems seem to be sort of really prominent, and rather than watching people dealing with a pandemic in a collapsing environment and thinking ‘Oh, that was an interesting history lesson’, it feels like ‘Oh, this is now, these are still things that we are having to, having to navigate right now’.
Whilst I’ve – I’ve read that you don’t necessarily identify as purely a, a method actor, you have talked in the past about how deeply you try to embody the characters you play, and I just wondered how difficult it was to come back after the break and once again put on this skin of the frequently despairing Dr. Astrov?
Um, I came back with, *laugh*, with a taste for vodka that I’d-
*laugh*
-I’d maintained from doing the play, um I came back with no haircut, so y’know, I was – I was sort of *laugh*, I hadn’t put him down really to be honest. I’d, I’d thought about him a lot, and during the course of my research I’d found this diary of a doctor who had worked through his life and through various epidemics, and was really at the end of his tether as to what the point of medicine, and uh, I used a lot of his references to, to sort of try to understand what maybe our NHS workers were going through, and still are going through. Y’know, how do you – how do you go home at night after seeing people in such, y’know, such extreme circumstances without a cure. Y’know, that’s something that we find very difficult to get our heads around because there’s always a pill for something, there’s always a remedy. And these Russians were – were dealing with tuberculosis, for which there was no cure, and typhoid and, and having to, to y’know, having to deal with the fact that most of the time they were death sentences, and we – we have lost that, y’know, we – we have quite luxurious existences compared to them. So to, to be living with something which people don’t have answers has, has really shaken us up I think, and that’s contained in the play.
At the end of the production the matriarch, uh, Anna Calder-Marshall’s Nana, blows out the candles that light the stage and it, it felt to me as though she wasn’t only putting the – the play to bed, she was almost putting theatre life to bed in some way until this bleak winter is over. I just wonder how sad it is for you to see the way the arts are suffering in this pandemic.
It is really, really sad, and I – I, y’know, I’ve been able to carry on doing various kinds of work, but I, I know that there are a huge amount of people out there who work in those theatre buildings that only work in theatre, that can’t go back to work right now. But at the same time, I’m – I’m an optimist, and so I look towards Sonya’s speech about work, and we will endure this and we will come back. Y’know, it might be the middle of next summer, who knows, but I think when we’re – we’re all waiting to have those dust cloths pulled off us, y’know. Um, and we will see diamonds in sky and it, it will come back to us. But in the meantime we’ve just gotta find a way to survive this period, and most people that work in the arts do have ways of doing that, because there are periods of time where you find yourself not working and you have to be very resourceful. And I just hope people can hang on and they’ll – they’ll return when we all do.
Richard Armitage, I – I’m not surprised the run was sold out, Uncle Vanya, and my first experience with the play, my first experience with Chekov. It was absolutely brilliant and I loved every minute of it. I’m, I’m going to get my – my wife’s gonna watch it this weekend, and uh – I hope everyone takes the time to experience it, and just thank you so much for being on the program.
Thank you for having me. And just let me say that it’s the 27th of October and thereabouts for various screenings in your cinema, and going to the cinema is not a terrifying experience, I’ve done it. It’s – if you play by the rules and wear a mask, it’s, it’s actually like a little bit of normality.
Perhaps even sneak in a vodka *Laugh*
*Laugh* Absolutely.
Thank you, Richard.
Thank you.
---
Ah, Richard Armitage, such a legend, lovely guy to speak to. And I’d really recommend it, I’d, I’d heard of Uncle Vanya, and of course I’ve heard of Chekov, but forgive me being a bit of a film philistine, it’s not something I would’ve taken the time to investigate. It’s REALLY good. It’s really funny, it’s really fresh, it feels like a – it’s not a history lesson y’know, it feels, as Richard said, like you’re enjoying character speaking to each other now, and all the issues that they raise feel very current and contemporary. I loved it. Um, you can go to unclevanyacinema.com to find out where it’s playing, but it does certainly look like the Odeon Kettering and the Savoy in Corby will be showing it.
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I stand in my armor on the precipie of Hell’s Mouth. The flames, both red and white, surround me. The three other crystals are all set in their places across the other corners of the gaping abyss. I heave and push the final crystal into place.
Light erupts from its core, and bursts out in the form of three concentrated beams that travel across the vast distances and towards the other crystals. Similar beams now burst out from the rest of them and form a square with an X over the abyss.
Then all four crystals shatter, and the entire cavern is filled with light. The flames are extinguished all at once and a torrent of glowing orbs flows out of the mouth of hell and floats up into the air.
I squint my eyes as the orbs form a humanoid being in the air. Tens of meters tall, with six arms and four massive wings. The angel is adorned in an armor not dissimilar to my own, but glowing, and brand new, as opposed to my ancient set. And much larger of course.
“I am Venn-El. The Angel at the End of Time.” it bellows at me, its voice echoing through the cavern, and transmitting directly into my mind, all at once.
“Why have you awakened me?” it flies down so that its incomprehensible and massive face stares at me. “I am not to awaken until the end of all things, when I am to rebuild a new universe from the ashes of this one.”
“Um, I wanted to switch rooms.” I tell him back.
He floats still above me, silent, for a solid ten seconds. “What?”
“I lived in an inn with three other dudes. I wanted to switch rooms with Bradon because the central heating doesn’t reach my room and it’s gonna be winter soon.”
Venn-El pauses again. Then it drifts back into its original location. “What does that have to do with me?”
“I need a feather from one of your wings.”
“What? What for?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I have literally all the time in the universe.”
“You sure? It’s kinda stupid.” I take off my helmet and rub at the back of my head.
“Now you have piqued my interest mortal. You must tell me.”
“Okay...” I sigh. “You asked for it.”
“So I asked Bradon if I could switch rooms with him and he obviously said no. So I asked him what he wanted in return for the switch. He said I needed to do some chores for him, so I did them, but after that he was like “lol thanks” and then refused to switch rooms.”
“God, what a dick.” Venn-El comments. It seems comfortable leaning back into thin air, as though sitting in a chair.
“I know, right?” I lean back against a rock. “So anyway...” I continue “I eventually realized that my bro Jackmire technically owns the deed for the inn so he could force Bradon to be true to his word. And Jackmire agreed, but he’d have to get the local constable to sign the order confirming Jackmire as head of the house first. So I had to go to the police to get the constable.”
“Sounds like a beaurocratic mess. I would’ve just vaporized Bradon.”
“Trust me, if I could’ve, I would’ve.”
“Please continue.”
“Okay, so I went down to town to get the constable, but they were busy at the police station because three bandits were hiding in the nearby hillsides causing trouble and the constable was out of town chasing them. They told me they could give me temporary authority as a deputy to go look for him if I helped them with the paperwork. I’m pretty sure that was some bullshit.”
“I don’t have much concept for the way the mortal realm works but it sounds like it.”
“But I did it anyway, got my badge, and went out to the hillside to look for the constable. Only to be nearly immediately attacked by some low-level monsters and chased back to town. So I got to the local blacksmith and asked him to borrow an armor and sword.”
“This armor and sword? Pretty impressive for a small town blacksmith.”
“What? Nah. I upgraded these like 15 times since then.” I tap my Godslayer sword against my Legendary Hero’s armor. “So anyway, blacksmith agreed to just give me the sword if I pretended to be a suitor for his daughter because she’s been very lonely and he thought she needed some love.”
“Kinda manipulative, but also sweet.”
“Long story short, halfway through my fake date, I find out the girl didn’t need a suitor, she was actually gay. I later gave her the address for this other lesbian I’ll meet later, but for then I just bid her ado, and went on my way to the hillsides to look for the constable. Killing the monsters was difficult, but I got pretty good at it after a few hours.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Um, last week? Maybe two weeks. I lost the sense of time ever since my trip to the ancient past.”
“What?”
“But I’m getting ahead of myself. I made it to where the bandits were and found the constable dying. I beat the bandits (broke my sword in the process) and in his dying words, the constable told me that I had to protect the town. I told him I’m too busy and then he died.”
“Fucking hell.”
“Exactly. So that was a literally dead end. My only other hope to get the deed verified is the other signature, which was the constable’s old boss who has since retired.”
“So the adventure continues.”
“I got back to town and told the secretary in the police station that the constable is dead. She tells me I’m the new constable. That’s cool and all but I can’t verify the deed since I’m not the one who signed it. I ask where the old guy who co-signed it is and they tell me he’s retired in the Imperial Capital. I also tell the blacksmith that I broke his sword and try to return him his armor but he says I can keep it and even upgrades my stuff to be better. Which is super sweet.”
“Sounds like a solid dude.”
“So anyway, I gotta leave for the capital but I also can’t leave the town without a constable, so I gotta find a replacement. It needs to be somebody strong and reliable, and luckily for me, there was a tournament in the next town over. And I’m thinking surely somebody is gonna be there who’s good to be a constable. So I take the dead constable’s horse and some donated supplies from the locals and I ride there. It’s pretty close by so it doesn’t take too much before I reach there, and the tournament is about to start.”
“Ooh, a tournament arc!”
“Yeah. So anyway, I find the perfect match. Her name is Kroshna and she’s the champion of the village and the daughter of their constable, so she’s got all the experience necessary. I ask her to go be constable in the next town over and she says yes, but on the condition that I beat her in the tournament. So off I go signing up to the tournament so I could face and later beat a lady three times my size and years more experienced than me.”
“How did you do that?”
“Well, it wasn’t easy, but I’m getting ahead of myse-” suddenly the entire abyss begins cracking up and rumbling. It then begins to close.
“Shit.” I say. “Looks like the planetary alignment is over.”
“Fuck. But it was just getting interesting.” Venn-El says. “How did the story go? How did you beat her? What happened when you went to the capital?”
“We’ve got no time, dude. Can I please just get the feather?”
“Oh yeah, yeah, for sure.” the angel plucks a single feather out of one of its wings. Another one instantly grows in its place.
“I hope this helps you in your quest.”
“Thanks.”
“Please come back next alignment and finish the story because I’m dying to know.”
“Oh yeah, for sure, man. I’ll cya next time!”
The ground then sucks Venn-El back into the abyss in the form of orbs of light, and then closes completely, swallowing everything up in sight. I use my teleportation rock to get out of the cavern before it collapses on me. I then put the feather in my pouch and pull out a to-do list.
I cross out the feather from the list. Only 304 more steps to go.
I sigh and call for my skeleton steed. This is gonna be a long journey.
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[Date] 左然 Zuo Ran: 「醉意入怀 Drunken Bottled Truths」
Preview:
“Why...
I told you, to come find me when you run into trouble.
Why did you have to... with him...
Do you always trust others this easily!?”
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Keep reading for the full date!
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▌Location- Themis Law Firm, Break Room
Beep beep beep-- it was four-thirty in the afternoon, and my alarm went off on my phone. I closed the notification, saved the document I was working on, and closed my laptop. I brought my makeup bag from my desk into the break room and started my routine. There’s a business reception tonight, organized by the famous watchmaker brand in Stellis City, “LingXi Watches”. Zuo Ran had been responsible for one of their lawsuits and had been invited to attend. In turn, Zuo Ran extended the invitation to me as his plus one.)
MC:
(Maybe I should spend more time practicing how to put on makeup… My skills are seriously lacking… Oh well, I should be fine with a little foundation. I don’t think I should attempt anything more advanced than that.)
Just as I was rummaging through my bag of makeup products, the break room door opened. ChengCheng peeked in to the breakroom and quickly rushed over to me.
ChengCheng:
“Psst, is it true that you’ll be attending LingXi Watches’s reception with Lawyer Zuo tonight?”
MC:
“Yeah, why, what’s wrong?”
Suddenly, ChengCheng clasped my hands in hers and looked at me with sparkling eyes.
ChengCheng:
“I beg you… I only have this one wish in my life! If it’s not too much trouble, I beg you… you gotta help me!”
MC:
“What is it?”
ChengCheng:
“My favorite star is attending LingXi Watches’s party as their spokesperson. If you get a chance to meet him, can you help me get his autograph…”
ChengCheng continued to explain; I couldn’t get a word in.
ChengCheng:
“I’m not asking for you to hound him or anything like that! If… the opportunity should present itself, won’t you try and ask him for me…”
MC:
“Alright, I’ll try. No guarantees though-”
ChengCheng wrapped me in a tight bear hug before I could finish my sentence.
ChengCheng:
“Of course, of course! I owe you my life in thanks! MC, you’re like an angel sent down from above!”
▌Location- Zuo Ran’s Office
At the same time…
Zhai Xing:
“Are you really planning on taking MC to tonight’s banquet?”
Zuo Ran:
“That’s right, why?”
Zhai Xing:
“The reception isn’t exclusive to businesspeople; there’s going to be celebrities attending as well. I remember… Gao ShengHan, LingXi Watches’s spokesperson, will be in attendance.”
Zuo Ran:
“You pay attention to celebrity news?”
Zhai Xing:
“Of course not, I only know him because he recently starred in a popular new drama about love in the workplace. In the end, all the ladies in our firm were raving about him, so I remembered his name. I heard that Gao ShengHan is deemed ‘the senior we’d kill to work with’.”
Zhai Xing glanced at Zuo Ran and gave him a pointed look.
Zhai Xing:
“Aren’t you scared that she’ll…?”
Zuo Ran:
“I don’t think she’s the type of person to be attracted to TV personalities. Besides, dramas like that aren’t based on reality. A relationship is built upon a foundation of mutual understanding and trust.”
Zhai Xing:
“What you just described is defined as a slow-burn love. Now, let’s not forget that ‘love at first sight’ still exists. Hold on - what did you just say? ‘Dramas like that-’? What do you even know about TV tropes? You’ve watched his show?”
Zuo Ran awkwardly coughed, got up, and fixed his tie.
Zuo Ran:
“There’s not much time left, I’ll head out first.”
~~~
▌Location- Parking Lot
Zuo Ran drove us to the hotel venue, and we arrived close to the banquet start time. This was my first time accompanying Zuo Ran as his plus one. In the past, I had only attended strictly as his assistant. I couldn’t help but feel nervous. I closed my eyes and took a couple deep breaths. Just then, Zuo Ran spoke up beside me.
Zuo Ran:
“Ah, there’s something I have to remind you of.”
MC:
“What is it?”
Zuo Ran:
“There’s going to be all kinds of people at the reception. If anyone tries to force you to accept drinks, you need not go along with them. Immediately come find me if it happens.”
MC:
“B-but the guests tonight all have some kind of social standing. If I refuse their invites, it won't look good for them…”
I hesitated. Even if I didn’t have experience attending parties like this, it would sound rude if I refused.
MC:
“I’m not going as my own entity, my actions may directly impact Themis.”
Not to mention, I’ll be representing Zuo Ran as well… I can’t afford to do anything that might upset the guests; I’ll end up only causing trouble for Zuo Ran.
MC:
“Also, what if the other party is a client of Themis… it’ll be a good opportunity to get our firm’s name out there.”
Zuo Ran:
“I don’t need to drink to pull clients. Themis isn’t asking that of you, either.”
Zuo Ran smiled gently when he noticed that I was nervous.
Zuo Ran:
“All you have to do is be your everyday self. You’re the partner I’ve chosen, let your professionalism sway others for you. Believe in yourself, and trust me.”
He spoke directly and calmly, his words carrying a gentle strength.
MC:
“... I understand.”
--- PART 2 ---
▌Location- Banquet Venue
Even with Zuo Ran’s reassuring presence, I felt nervous walking into the venue. I checked out the beautiful hotel decor, and my sights settled on someone who stood out in the crowd.
MC:
(Is… Isn’t that Gao ShengHan?)
ChengCheng’s wish popped into mind, I hurriedly pulled out the picture she had handed me earlier so that I could confirm it was really Gao ShengHan.
MC:
“It really is Gao ShengHan!”
I accidentally spoke my mind, and Zuo Ran turned around at the sound of my voice.
Zuo Ran:
“What is it? Someone you recognize?”
MC:
“A-ah, not quite, I just saw someone famous, and I can’t help but feel starstruck.”
Zuo Ran looked over my shoulder, and saw Gao ShengHan. He raised a brow at me.
Zuo Ran:
“...”
MC:
“Seeing him up close in person, he’s actually quite…”
I turned around as I spoke, and met Zuo Ran’s sharp gaze. He was frowning, searching my face with an expression so strange that I couldn’t even begin to describe it.
Zuo Ran:
“You… care about him?”
MC:
“I guess so, his recent TV drama is quite popular.”
Zuo Ran quieted, and he glanced at the photo in my hand.
MC:
(C-crap… does Lawyer Zuo think I accompanied him just so I can meet celebrities? That’s so unprofessional!)
I quickly shoved the picture of Gao ShengHan back into my clutch, and awkwardly reassured him.
MC:
“T-that... Lawyer Zuo! I promise this will not hinder my work! Th-the picture… it’s…”
Zuo Ran:
“...”
One of LingXi Watches’s executives approached us and began to discuss the aftermath of their court victory with Zuo Ran, thus I couldn’t finish explaining myself. The case was one that Zuo Ran had worked on all by himself before I had become his work partner. My presence beside Zuo Ran might hinder his discussion, so I quietly left his side.
On the other side of the banquet hall, Gao ShengHan was entertaining a small group of people. ChengCheng’s wish popped up in my mind again, but…
MC:
“The people he’s with right now… must be a bunch of hotshots… How can a small-time lawyer such as myself approach the nation’s husband…”
As I stood aside brainstorming ways that I could approach Gao ShengHan, he started walking towards me.
Gao ShengHan:
“Hi, I was wondering if you were Lawyer MC?”
MC:
“Ah! Yes, I am, nice to meet you. You’ve… heard of me?”
Gao ShengHan:
“Of course. You were the one who defended PAX Group's Mr. Lu Jinghe from accusation, right? I followed the news coverage and even watched videos of the trial; it was very exciting.”
MC:
“You flatter me. I would’ve never thought that an A-list celebrity such as yourself would pay attention to the subject of law.”
Gao ShengHan:
“Ah, actually, I’ve only recently started paying attention.”
MC:
“Oh?”
Gao ShengHan smiled and used the topic of the lawsuit to strike up conversation with me. It turned out that he had been cast for an upcoming law drama and was brushing up on a lawyer’s mannerisms, even going as far as to shadow lawyers when they were on the clock. He told me he had reviewed many videos of trials, but there were still things he preferred to talk face to face about with professional lawyers.
Gao ShengHan:
“The office drama that just aired was made popular all thanks to the director’s hard work on writing such a phenomenal script. The truth is… my acting is still lacking… I didn’t come from an acting background, so there’s still a lot I have to learn. So I’m hoping that it’ll help if I prepare for the role in advance.”
He spoke with an absolutely charming and boyish determination, but stood firm with a man’s conviction. He was set on chasing his dream of becoming a good actor; it was hard not to like him.
MC:
(No wonder ChengCheng likes him so much…)
Gao ShengHan:
“Lawyer MC, I was wondering if you would share with me some tips and tricks when it comes to speaking in court?”
I was still working on getting ChengCheng her autograph, and I hastily accepted his request.
MC:
“Of course I can! Although it’s been said that facts can triumph over eloquence, in the eyes of the law, it is often that facts will benefit from eloquence. Polishing your debate skills and litigation strategies can get you twice as far, with half the effort.”
Gao ShengHan:
“I see, then what about cases with iron-clad evidence, or cases with little to no evidence at all?”
MC:
“Then we’ve got to cross-examine whatever they’ve got! A piece of evidence’s authenticity, legitimacy, relevance, and size of the evidence must always be considered and contested.”
That’s how Zuo Ran once dismantled a case with seemingly solid defense.
~~~Flashback~~~
Defendant Xiao Ke was charged with homicide and imprisoned twenty years ago. He escaped after serving his sentence for ten years, and was arrested again after returning home to visit his sickly mother.
Prosecutor:
“The prosecutor believes that defendant Xiao Ke’s behavior meets the severity of prison escape. The facts of the crime are clear, and the evidence against him is sufficient.”
Zuo Ran:
“On the surface, the defendant’s prison escape is indeed in line with escape crimes. However, I would like to ask the prosecutor, what is the legal benefit infringed by the escape crime?”
Prosecutor:
“The interests violated by the escape crime are punishable under the jurisdiction of the normal order of justice.”
Zuo Ran:
“Correct, but the defendant’s past prison escape does not violate the normal order of justice, and is rather an incorrect order. The guilty verdict on the count of first-degree homicide twenty years ago was fundamentally a false verdict!”
Prosecutor:
“Defendant, I must remind you that the chain of evidence was complete. Both evidence and witness testimony-”
Zuo Ran:
“The issue lies within the witness testimony! The time of the incident was 10PM on the eighteenth of February. The witness claimed he saw the defendant Xiao Ke push the victim off the east side of the bridge, resulting in the victim’s death. The witness emphasized that because the skies were clear and the moonlight was bright, he was able to watch the incident’s proceedings very clearly. However, the eighteenth of February was five days after the new moon, thus sufficient light could not have been provided. Secondly, the moon would have risen from the west, making the moonlight shine from west to east. If the suspect had pushed the victim off the east side of the bridge, his face could not have been seen solely by moonlight. Allow me to ask, how could the witness under those conditions see the defendant’s face at the bridgehead twenty meters away?”
One by one, Zuo Ran cross-examined the evidence the prosecutor had provided, tearing into each discrepancy.
~~~Flashback ends~~~
Gao ShengHan:
“Th-that’s incredible! Just like that, he managed to overturn the court ruling! But… even if it were a false verdict, it must have been difficult to win a retrial. Although I’m not well versed in law, people have always been unwilling to admit their own mistakes…”
MC:
“Well, that…”
Zuo Ran’s statement of defense back then, as a lawyer myself, and as his partner, I shared the glory and triumph of his success.
~~~Flashback~~
Zuo Ran:
“The evidence presented by the prosecution for the incident cannot form a complete system of proof. According to the principle of a false verdict, the defendant Xiao Ke’s initial ruling cannot be established, and he was falsely sentenced. Since he was falsely imprisoned to begin with, where is the escape crime? Therefore, the defendant’s prison break, cannot even be labelled as such.”
The jury broke out in a frenzy of discussion after Zuo Ran’s defense. He looked squarely at the jury and spoke again, the sound of his voice quelling the murmurs.
Zuo Ran:
“The purpose of upholding the law is not just limited to punishing criminals, but also to protect the rights of those who are innocent. Criminal law must be obliged to not only protect our country from offenders, but also to protect the wrongly accused as well as the prosecutors who put them there. If there does not exist such procedural justice, the upholding of justice itself will be as pointless as water without a source. Then, the dignity of the law will fall apart. The defendant hereby appeals to the court, to uphold the spirit of seeking nothing but the truth, and asks for a reevaluation of the evidence. We ask on the basis of the criminal justice system as the criterion, the defendant be pronounced innocent in accordance with the law.”
~~~Flashback ends~~~
The calm and orderly manner in which Zuo Ran delivers criticism, that is the masterful way in which Zuo Ran works his magic in court. And I think it’s an art, the best speech arts in the world.
Gao ShengHan:
“I see! No wonder I felt a sense of Deja Vu when I was watching the trial… After hearing about Lawyer Zuo’s speech-- I can see that you two share similar debate styles!”
MC:
“Huh?”
I’ll admit that I’ve picked apart Zuo Ran’s technique and mannerisms in court, trying my best to mimic him when I have spare time, but…
MC:
“I’m far from reaching his level.”
Gao ShengHan:
“No, I don’t think so. You’re close, very close to his skill level. Especially with the emotional control of the room, the way you conceal your intention behind hidden meanings so that your opponent says what you want them to…”
Gao ShengHan listed notes that he had taken on my style after watching my trial. He analyzed the similarities between our presence in court through the perspective of an actor.
MC:
(So to other people, this is what they see?)
I subconsciously scanned the sea of bodies for Zuo Ran’s familiar frame. He was still talking to the LingXi executive, his expression calm and indifferent. Suddenly, he must have felt someone watching as he returned my gaze and looked at me.
MC:
“!!!”
I hurriedly turned away. Gao ShengHan didn't notice that I was distracted as he continued rambling.
Gao ShengHan:
“Ah, I just remembered, you’re Lawyer Zuo’s partner, right? I’ve heard other people mention that you two are a natural pair…”
~~~
On the other side of the banquet hall, Zuo Ran was still responding to the executive’s incessant questions, but his attention gradually began to slip away to watch a certain corner of the room. There, Gao ShengHan and the girl were talking amiably; they seemed to have hit it off. The girl turned to look at him, then quickly looked away. Just then, a vivid smile blossomed on the girl’s face. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were sparkling, almost as if she had confided in the other man a secret that she had held deep in her heart.
Zuo Ran:
“...”
Zuo Ran’s gaze narrowed, and he subconsciously itched the palm of his hand.
--- PART 3 ---
▌Location- Banquet hall
After Gao ShengHan and I finished our discussion about debate techniques, he thanked me profusely.
MC:
“Ah, it was nothing. Then, Mr. Gao, can I ask you for a favor? It’s like this, er, I have a really good friend…”
I recounted to Gao ShengHan what ChengCheng had said to me in the breakroom, and he happily agreed to sign the photo.
MC:
“Thank you so much!”
Gao ShengHan:
“You’re very welcome! I should be the one thank you, honestly. Chatting with you has helped me a lot. And I would’ve never guessed that your co-worker has been supporting me ever since I debuted. Ah, aside from the autograph, let me film a shout out too! Would you help me take the video?”
MC:
“Of course!”
MC:
(Hehe… ChengCheng is going to flip when she sees this!)
I can just picture ChengCheng frothing at the mouth after I bring her the autograph, and a personal video to boot as I quickly pulled out my phone. Gao ShengHan waved enthusiastically at my camera and thanked her for her support and encouragement. After I ended the recording, he suddenly remembered something.
Gao ShengHan:
“Actually, Lawyer MC, I’m looking into starting my own studio. If it’s alright, would you help me with the studio’s legal aspect?”
Who knew I’d be the one to find new clients here!
MC:
“Thank you for putting your trust with us, I’ll inform Lawyer Zuo in a bit.”
Gao ShengHan:
“Then I’ll have to trouble you for that. To commemorate our upcoming collaboration, and to express my thanks for your help earlier, let’s have a toast.”
Gao ShengHan flagged down the server, who brought two flutes of champagne over.
MC:
“Then…”
~~~Flashback~~~
Zuo Ran:
“Ah, there’s something I have to remind you of.”
Zuo Ran:
“There’s going to be all kinds of people at the reception. If anyone tries to force you to accept drinks, you need not go along with them. Immediately come find me if it happens.”
~~~Flashback ends~~~
I looked at the champagne Gao ShengHan expectantly held out to me, and after I recalled Zuo Ran’s advice from earlier, I hesitated a little.
[Select: Don’t decline]
MC:
(It doesn’t seem like he’s forcing me to drink with him… Besides, Gao ShengHan did sign the autograph, and he’s looking to collaborate with Themis. It’ll look really bad if I refuse…)
Gao ShengHan:
“Lawyer MC?”
MC:
“Ah, thank you. A toast, then…”
I didn’t finish my sentence as a hand reached out to grab my wrist, interrupting us. It was Zuo Ran. He walked over to my side, and wordlessly separated Gao ShengHan and I.
Zuo Ran:
“Gao ShengHan?”
MC:
“Lawyer Zuo?”
Gao ShengHan:
“Ah! You’re the famous Barrister Zuo! It’s an honor to meet you in the flesh!”
Gao ShengHan held out his hand for a handshake. Zuo Ran glanced at Gao ShengHan, raised his hand, and shook it very formally.
Zuo Ran:
“Ah, pardon my intrusion, Mr. Gao. My partner here doesn’t take well to alcohol, I’ll take the drink in her stead.”
I stood frozen in shock as Zuo Ran plucked my champagne flute out of my hand, touched it against Gao ShengHan’s, and downed the drink. Our chat was cut shortly after Zuo Ran’s interruption. Zuo Ran stayed glued to my side for the rest of the night after that. Perhaps it was due to his naturally imposing aura, but no one else dared to propose a toast to us, and instead, opted to respectfully stick to business talk.
~~~
▌Location- The backseat of a taxi
The rest of the night passed in a blink of an eye. Since Zuo Ran had drunk, I hailed us a taxi. After we clamored into the back, all Zuo Ran said to me was, “We’ll drop you off first,” before falling completely silent. He leaned into the seat as a set of ocean-blue eyes looked out of the cab’s window at the passing city lights, seemingly lost in thought. The neon lights flickered over his face, and all I could see was his somber face light up in shades of blue, pink, green, and yellow. I don’t know why, but Zuo Ran seemed to be quite low-spirited.
MC:
(Has he been working too hard? Or maybe the LingXi executives asked difficult questions? If I tell Lawyer Zuo about collaborating with Gao ShengHan’s studio, will it help cheer him up? It definitely will! Afterall, this is such a well known client!)
MC:
“Lawyer Zuo, I was talking with Gao ShengHan earlier. He’s planning on building his own studio label. He has a lot of trust for Themis Law Firm, and he wants to hire me to act as the studio’s legal consultant.”
Zuo Ran:
“... You want to accept his commission?”
MC:
“Yes, afterall civil and commercial law is my strength and-”
Just as I was going to suggest bringing ChengCheng along as an assistant, Zuo Ran interrupted me.
Zuo Ran:
“...I’m sorry, let’s pick this up tomorrow. I’d like to rest.”
Zuo Ran closed his eyes and leaned against the headrest. After seeing how tired he looked, I instantly clammed up.
MC:
“Al- alright.”
MC:
(Lawyer Zuo must be absolutely exhausted…)
I quickly grabbed my phone and turned off the ringer. I didn’t want to disrupt Zuo Ran while he rested. Just then, a notification from ChengCheng popped up. She had sent me a pleading eyes emoji. I smiled at her impatience, and sent Gao ShengHan’s video over to her. As expected, ChengCheng was ecstatic, and my phone buzzed nonstop as she spammed me with countless reaction photos and gifs of Gao ShengHan: him acting cute, showing gratefulness, hearts, and kisses.
MC:
(She’s so happy, I don’t think she’ll get any sleep tonight! Today, I’ve learned that Gao ShengHan is truly a man with many expressions. I scrolled through the countless stickers and gifs. Infected by ChengCheng’s bubbly texts, I couldn’t help but smile.)
Zuo Ran:
“...Ugh!”
A sigh resounded by my ear. Zuo Ran reached out and grabbed my phone. He glared at me as his brows furrowed into deep lines on his forehead.
MC:
“Lawyer Zuo?”
Zuo Ran didn’t respond. Instead, he flopped over on top of me, and I rushed to prop him up. Zuo Ran fell asleep with his head resting on my shoulder, drawing in small rasping breaths with the smell of alcohol hanging onto every breath.
MC:
“Lawyer Zuo, are you drunk?”
I quickly told the cab driver to turn around after giving him Zuo Ran’s address.
--- PART 4 ---
After we arrived at Zuo Ran’s condo, he still wasn’t awake. It was a relief that I remembered Zuo Ran’s address and apartment number, I said to myself as I helped him up the elevator and into his home.
▌Location- Zuo Ran’s living room
MC:
“Hu… Lawyer Zuo, you’re home…”
I guided him over to his couch, and laid him down.
MC:
“Lawyer Zuo, how are you feeling? You… you should rest on the sofa for a bit. Once you feel better, take a hot shower before heading to bed, alright?”
It’s quite late, and I’m worried about Zuo Ran. There’s no way I can stay here to take care of him; all I can do is try and leave him with reassuring words.
Zuo Ran:
“Hnng…”
It was a struggle getting him back to his suite, and Zuo Ran’s custommade suit was wrinkled from all the tugging and pulling. He stayed motionless in the position that I had left him in on the couch. I’m guessing he’s all out of strength. His skin was still flushed from the alcohol, his hair a mess atop his head, and his pretty brows were drawn tight in discomfort.
MC:
“Lawyer Zuo…”
Zuo Ran:
“Water…”
Zuo Ran raised his hand and felt around on the ottoman, knocking several things down in the process.
MC:
“I’ll go get it for you! Just stay put, I’ll bring you some warm honey water!”
I hesitated on leaving Zuo Ran alone, but I quickly got up and brought him a mug of honey water. I helped him upright, and held the mug for him as he took tiny sips. I watched as his lips glistened with water; they looked really soft.
MC:
“...”
My heart pounded in my chest, and I forced myself to look away. Just then, Zuo Ran must have felt hot, for he started pulling at his tie. But no matter how hard he tugged, the tie wouldn’t give way. He scrunched his brows in frustration.
MC:
“Is the tie uncomfortable, Lawyer Zuo?”
He grunted and resumed tugging on his tie.
Zuo Ran:
“Take… it off…”
I obeyed, helping Zuo Ran take off his suit jacket, and then attempted to loosen his tie. One minute later…
MC:
(H-how do you even take off a tie…)
I struggled with the fabric. I didn’t want to use too much force and risk accidentally choking Zuo Ran. His flushed skin brushed against my fingertips, and I forced myself to banish those risky thoughts. After several failed attempts, his tie remained immaculate, whilst I had already accidentally loosened his shirt collar and several buttons in the process…
MC:
(W-what do I do now…)
My mind was mush. My vision blurred, and refused to focus on anything other than Zuo Ran’s neck as his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. His collarbone peeked out from his dress skirt, and I could see the beginning of a plane of hard muscle.
MC:
“!!!”
MC:
(I should have looked up a tutorial…!)
I fumbled through my clutch to retrieve my phone, and searched up how to remove a tie. I finally loosened the tie after following step by step instructions. I didn’t even have time to let out the breath I was holding as a breathy sigh drifted past my ear.
Zuo Ran:
“You…”
I raised my head and looked into his deep blue eyes. Blue like fizzy soda bubbles and hazy in condensation. Blue, like the rolling hills covered by rain and mist south of Yangtze River: faint, warm, and endless. Only then did I notice how close our faces were - close enough to share our breaths.
Zuo Ran:
“...”
I bolted from the sofa, banging my back up against the corner of the ottoman.
MC:
“L-l-l- Lawyer Zuo! I-I- I only… The tie couldn’t undo you.. No … N-no, I meant that you couldn’t undo the tie… Since you’re awake now, I should-”
I stammered through an awkward explanation and tried to inch my way closer to the door in an attempt to escape.
Zuo Ran:
“Don’t… leave.”
Zuo Ran overtook me in a bound as he grabbed me, pinning me flush against the wall. He looked directly at me as he took ragged and needy gasps of air. The smell of his cedar aftershave and fruity champagne hit me full force as my knees threatened to buckle.
MC:
“Lawyer Zuo...?”
Zuo Ran swallowed hard, his voice becoming low and raspy.
Zuo Ran:
“Why… I’ve told you, to come find me when you run into trouble. Why did you have to… with him…”
MC:
“Him…?”
Zuo Ran’s demeanor and questions left me sweating.
Zuo Ran:
“Gao… Sheng… Han...“
MC:
“O-oh, him…”
I thought about what Zuo Ran told me in the parking lot, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt.
MC:
“I’m sorry, Lawyer Zuo... At the time I didn’t feel it was right to refuse him… Mr. Gao had been very kind. He helped me with a favor, and even said that he’ll commission us…”
Zuo Ran:
“... Very kind?”
MC:
“Yes. Don’t worry, I have boundaries, and I would never drink myself silly with other people that easily. Mr. Gao is a good guy, so I-”
Zuo Ran:
“How can you be so certain! You just met him for the first time tonight!”
Zuo Ran’s aura changed in an instant, and it felt like we had been transported back to the courthouse, except I’m now on the receiving end of his scrutiny. In the past, seeing Zuo Ran fired up like this would’ve left me motivated by his passion. But now… I stayed trapped like a deer in the headlights, unsure of whether I should fight or run.
MC:
“I…”
Zuo Ran:
“Do you always trust others this easily!?”
I couldn’t refute Zuo Ran’s point. He was right, I’ve only just met Gao ShengHan, and I couldn’t possibly know what kind of person he truly was. Still, the Guo ShengHan I met at the banquet who was so hardworking and dedicated to his career, who had wholeheartedly put his faith in Themis… I couldn’t help but speak up for him.
MC:
“Just because it was the first time we met, that doesn’t mean one is incapable of judging a person’s character. Mr. Gao is very humble, he’s worked hard to get to where he is today… Even with all the fame and fortune, he’s still very approachable…”
Zuo Ran:
“Approachable? What kind of logic is that! He’s an actor, aren’t you wary of the fact that he could be lying to you? You would rather trust his word, over mine…”
Lying … to me??? In the heat of the moment, I forcefully pushed Zuo Ran aside out of frustration. Sure, I might not be close to your level of expertise when it comes to the law, but Zuo Ran, must you belittle me and doubt the fact that I can make my own judgements!
MC:
“Zuo Ran, just who do you have a grudge with to say all that?!”
I screamed back at him. The silence in the room was palpable after my outburst as a tense air settled in between us.
Zuo Ran:
“...”
He must have been taken aback by my reaction. Zuo Ran was at a loss for words, for once.
MC:
“Lawyer Zuo… You’ve had way too much to drink tonight. It’s already so late, I gotta go.”
--- PART 5 ---
▌Location- Outside Zuo Ran’s Condominium
After I left Zuo Ran’s suite, I immediately hailed a taxi and went home. But… half an hour later, I had to turn back.
MC:
“I accidentally took Lawyer Zuo’s house keys with me…”
When I was trying to bring him back upstairs, I must have pocketed his keys after I pushed open his door while attempting to hold him upright. And after all that happened, I completely forgot about it until now.
MC:
“I gotta hurry, otherwise I’ll cause him even more trouble…”
“He’s lying to you…” Zuo Ran’s words came to mind, and my heart squeezed painfully. Is he unhappy with Gao ShengHan? Or maybe, it was out of line for me to pull new clients for us at the banquet?
~~~
▌Location- Zuo Ran’s living room
I unlocked his door with the keys and tentatively peeked in. Zuo Ran wasn’t in the living room.
MC:
(He must be in bed by now… Let’s just put his keys back and get out of here, lest I wake him up…)
I cautiously tiptoed into his living room, and was about to set his keys down on the ottoman. Just then, I nearly tripped over a sprawling mass on the carpet - it was Zuo Ran!
MC:
“L- Lawyer Zuo!?”
I hastily helped him off the floor.
MC:
“Lawyer Zuo! Are you alright! What’s wrong with you?”
Zuo Ran opened his eyes when I shook him awake. His blurry eyes gradually focused on my face, and once he realized that it was me, he reached out and grabbed my wrist.
Zuo Ran:
“MC, you… It’s you…”
MC:
“Are you hurt anywhere, Lawyer Zuo? How did you end up on the floor? Are you feeling sick? I’ll go bring you a wet towel so you can wipe your face. Hopefully, that’ll help you feel more comfortable.”
I spoke while getting up in a hurry, but Zuo Ran pulled me back. Without any precaution, I fell into his lap. I could feel his body heat and pulse beneath his skin against the palm of my hands, and I jerked my hands away as if I had been burnt by it.
MC:
“M-my apologies, Lawyer Zuo! I-”
A pair of hands pulled me flush against him, interrupting my sentence.
Zuo Ran:
“Don’t go… Don’t leave me…”
Zuo Ran rested his chin on my shoulder, his bangs tickling my ears. He embraced me gently, as if he was scared of me rejecting his advance, but just tight enough that I couldn’t move, as if he was scared that I would leave.
MC:
“I was only leaving to grab you a towel…”
He held me even tighter, ignoring my protests, and muttering to himself over and over.
Zuo Ran:
“Don’t leave me… alright?”
His voice rasped in my ear, cracking in a vulnerable way that fell far from his usual composure. Like a soft and unbreakable thread, he had ensnared me in his web.
Zuo Ran:
“I’m sorry… I must’ve scared you… It’s all my fault… I’m sorry… So don’t leave me…”
MC:
“I…”
Is he like this because I left earlier?
Zuo Ran:
“Don’t go…”
MC:
“Go… where exactly?”
Zuo Ran:
“Don’t go over to stand by his side…”
MC:
“Who?”
Thankfully, my mind grew clearer.
MC:
“Is… Is this about Gao ShengHan’s commission?”
Zuo Ran pulled me even tighter against him as his arms caged me in. So that’s the reason. Lawyer Zuo misunderstood my intentions and assumed that I was quitting my job at Themis and was planning to work for Gao ShengHan’s studio. That’s why he threw a fit… He wasn’t truly upset at me… I wanted to laugh, but was also touched by his sentiment. I gently patted his back.
MC:
“How could I leave Themis just to chase after some celebrity…”
Zuo Ran:
“You’re so bright and outstanding, I’m not the only one… everyone can see it. I’m just someone with a bad temper. As your partner… I must have added extra stress to your work, but I… say that you’ll be my partner forever and always, alright? So don’t leave me…”
MC:
“Lawyer Zuo, you’re over thinking things. I have no intentions to leave.”
My words must have brought him some reassurance. He sighed, sinking against me as he rested his head against the crook of my neck, all the while slowly caressing my hair and letting it glide between his fingers. The calm and self assured Zuo Ran I thought I knew… turned out to be someone so delicate and childish. Unless this is just the alcohol talking, and he’s just treating everything that transpired today, including me, like a dream…
[Examine his hand in my hair]
Zuo Ran’s hair keeps brushing up against my ear, it tickles. I wanted to reach up and brush it aside, but I accidentally brushed his cheek.
Zuo Ran:
“I… Must be so dull… Celebrities, they must be fun to be around… You’ll be happier with him… Right?
MC:
“How could I be…”
Zuo Ran:
“You smiled…”
MC:
“What’s that?”
Zuo Ran:
“You smiled at him… so many times…”
MC:
“Well t-that’s because!”
“Because we were praising you to the high heavens”... How could I say something like that aloud to him…
Zuo Ran:
“...No need to cover it up, there’s no need to console me…”
His usual indifference fell through the cracks, his voice sounding incredibly lonely. Is he saying all that to make me consider leaving and collaborate with Gao ShengHan instead? I decided it was probably best not to ask him that.
MC:
“It’s true! It’s because… W-we… we were talking about Lawyer Zuo…”
Zuo Ran:
“Me? What… about me?
MC:
(It’s all good… Lawyer Zuo is so stupid drunk… he shouldn’t be able to recall our conversation in the morning…)
MC:
“I told him… that Lawyer Zuo is the best… and that I admire you… Gao ShengHan said… no wonder I was your partner… that we were alike… s-so that’s why I-”
I stuttered through an explanation, feeling the embarrassing twinge of red creep up from my cheeks all the way up to my ears. I felt like I was burning up.
[Examine his arm]
I steadied myself as I held onto Zuo Ran’s arm.
MC:
“Er… Lawyer Zuo… Why don’t you have a seat on the couch, does that sound good?”
Zuo Ran:
“It’s not good… You’ll just leave me…”
MC:
“I already said that I wasn’t leaving…”
Zuo Ran:
“You’ll leave…”
Zuo Ran ignored me and continued to slur the same thing over and over, almost as if I’d vaporize into thin air if he let me go. His hot breath fanned across my neck, and I hastily tried to move away from it, only to have him tighten his arms around me.
Zuo Ran:
“You said you wouldn’t leave…”
His whining was laced with grief, and I couldn’t help but feel as though I had done something evil.
[Examine Zuo Ran’s neck]
His body heat radiated through my thin dress shirt and settled in my bones.
MC:
“Lawyer Zuo… do you feel cold, clinging onto me like this…”
Zuo Ran:
“Hah… Cold… You’re cold?”
He pulled me into his lap and pressed me against his chest.
Zuo Ran:
“You won’t feel cold like this, right?”
MC:
“...!”
[Examine his hand in my hair]
Zuo Ran:
“Don’t go…”
MC:
“For the last time, I really won’t.”
Zuo Ran:
“You kept staring at him… The moment we got there, you were looking for him… You… You even have his photo…”
MC:
“I- I was only helping ChengCheng get an autograph.”
Zuo Ran:
“Then stay by my side…”
MC:
“I will. I’ll stay at Themis, I’ll stay at Themis forever. Because I’m Lawyer Zuo’s partner.”
[Talk to Zuo Ran]
With his head on my shoulder, his breathing gradually grew steady.
MC:
“Lawyer Zuo?”
Zuo Ran:
“You’re my… destiny…”
MC:
“Eh?”
Zuo Ran’s voice fell to an inaudible whisper, I couldn’t comprehend anything he was trying to say.
Zuo Ran:
“My everything…”
MC:
“Lawyer Zuo?”
I called his name, but received no reply. He must have fallen asleep. I helped Zuo Ran onto the couch, gently laid his head down, and covered him with a blanket. He slept so soundly, it was almost as if I were the one who had hallucinated and conjured up all that had happened, like an out of body experience. But the hammering of my heart told me otherwise. I left Zuo Ran’s suite in a hurry.
--- PART 6 ---
▌Location- Themis Law Firm
The day after the banquet, I handed Gao ShengHan’s autograph to ChengCheng who was waiting by the door, and she held up the photo and cheered.
ChengCheng:
“MC, you’re the best! I love you!”
MC:
“You should save words like that for your idol.”
ChengCheng:
“Of course I will say it to him! But, you deserve my love, too!”
ChengCheng hovered around me excitedly, but then, she pushed up her glasses and settled down.
ChengCheng:
“Hang on, why are your dark circles so deep! The banquet ended early enough, didn’t it? I remember that you sent me the video recording at around 9PM. Did anything happen afterward? Unless you had too much to drink and didn't rest well?”
MC:
“N-nothing like that happened! I just didn’t sleep well, that’s it!”
My heart pittered loudly when last night’s events rushed to mind. I cautiously peeked around the corner at Zuo Ran’s office, and let out a sigh of relief when I saw that it was empty.
MC:
(Lawyer Zuo was completely wasted last night, he probably won’t come to work today right… How fortunate… I don’t know how I should approach him now…)
Just as I was lost in thought, ChengCheng nudged me with her elbow.
ChengCheng:
“Good morning, Lawyer Zuo!”
Zuo Ran:
“Morning.”
Zuo Ran looked at the signed photo in ChengCheng’s hand, coughed awkwardly, then looked at me.
Zuo Ran:
“Uhm. Hold on, come see me in my office.”
MC:
“Al-alright.”
I watched Zuo Ran walk away, my heart threatening to jump out of my throat as I stood anxiously.
MC:
(Why would Lawyer Zuo want to see me… What if he remembers what happened yesterday?!)
~~~Flashback~~~
Zuo Ran:
“You smiled at him… so many times…”
MC:
“It’s true! It’s because… W-we… we were talking about Lawyer Zuo…”
Zuo Ran:
“Me? What… about me?
MC:
(It’s all good… Lawyer Zuo is so stupid drunk… he shouldn’t be able to recall our conversation in the morning…)
MC:
“I told him… that Lawyer Zuo is the best… and that I admire you… Gao ShengHan said… no wonder I was your partner… that we were alike… s-so that’s why I-”
~~~Flashback ends~~~
▌Location- Zuo Ran’s office
MC:
(I’m so embarrassed…)
I begrudgingly followed Zuo Ran into his office, I didn’t dare look at him, so I kept my head down and stared at the corner of his desk instead.
Zuo Ran:
“You mentioned last night that Gao ShengHan wished to collaborate with our law firm for legal consultation in regards to his studio. After confirming the details of the commission with the other party, you may proceed with the contracting process. Startups start from zero, labor and management legal services will be a routine task for you. Risk prevention, business forms and contracts, terms and conditions, of the sort… you must meticulously plan, formulate, construct, and maintain them all.”
Zuo Ran’s voice rang true and indifferent like it always had, like we had returned back to status quo.
MC:
“...”
Zuo Ran:
“Any questions?”
MC:
“None.”
My mind was still reeling from last night’s events, and I couldn’t ask him anything even if I wanted to.
Zuo Ran:
“Providing legal consultation for a new business will be a good challenge for you. If there’s anything you’re unsure of, feel free to ask me. Ah, also…”
He hesitated before speaking again.
Zuo Ran:
“The entertainment industry… is shrouded in gossip and fake news. If you meet the client alone, it may cause unscrupulous articles to spread. If you’re going to meet with the other party… you must tell me- I’ll go with you.”
MC:
“Yes, I know.”
Zuo Ran’s indifference was a great relief to me. It seems like he doesn’t recall what happened… After I came down from my personal emotional rollercoaster, I noticed an ounce of regret peeking out in the corner of my heart… and I understood it less than I understood how it got there in the first place.
MC:
“Then, if Lawyer Zuo has nothing else to add, I’ll go and get started!”
I hurriedly scampered out of Zuo Ran’s office.
~~~
After watching the girl leave his office, Zuo Ran relaxed and sank into his seat. Like the way a delayed reaction would be, the back of his ears grew red and hot to the touch.
Zuo Ran:
“... I’m sorry… I…”
Zuo Ran paused as the blush creeped from his ears to his cheeks, then he pulled out a small hair tie from his suit pocket. This was left by her last night - and was the tangible proof he needed to convince himself that what happened last night wasn’t a dream.
Zuo Ran:
“And now… I don’t know how I can return this to you…”
The silky hair tie in his hands felt just like the way her hair had flowed between his fingers.
Zuo Ran:
“In the future…”
Zuo Ran coughed lightly as he looked at the hair tie with quiet eyes.
Zuo Ran:
“In the future, I’ll definitely return this to you.”
To the beautiful young eagle that spreads her eager wings and takes to the sky, chasing after a life that she yearns for… If she should fly to places further and further away, then all one can do is encompass the entire sky so that she will stay within reach.
——————
《CREDIT》
Translator: @humi-and-co
Editor: @hallowsivy
《未定事件簿》Tears of Themis is a 2020 Chinese otome game by 米哈游Mihoyo. All original credits go to 米哈游Mihoyo.
《 VOICE ACTORS 》
Zuo Ran | Zhao Lu: https://weibo.com/mzhaolu
Zhai Xing | Fan Churong
ChengCheng | V-17 Xiao Zheng: https://weibo.com/u/7360058865
#tears of themis#tears of themis translations#otome#未定事件簿#weiding shijian bu#左然#tears of themis zuo ran#zuo ran#otome game#otome game translations
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{un veneno} january: captivate
pairing; javier peña x female reader
summary; the year is 1980. javier peña has been at the embassy in bogotá for a year when he meets you, fresh out of college and brand new to the country.
rating; nc-17
warnings; smoking, masturbation
word count; 2.4k
a/n; so this is a passion project of mine, it will be 12 chapters, full of fluff, smut, warm tropical nights, and later on, a lot of angst.
bonus; there’s a playlist for the series! check it out here on spotify or message me for apple music
un veneno masterlist
“Quero um–no, fuck–un paquete de cigarros?” you said to the shop attendant. Spanish was no easy task. It was a dumb decision to come here without any knowledge of the language, but you had assumed some university-level Portuguese would help. Apparently not, because the man behind the counter shot you a confused look as he pulled a pack from the shelves behind them. He understood, that was clear, but you didn’t know the words.
“Ella quiere unas Pielrojas porfa, con filtro,” said a voice behind you, “No esos malditos y caros Marlboros. Bueno, que sean dos y yo pago.”
“Señor Peña, ¿cómo vas?” the shopkeeper said, and you turned to look at this ‘Señor Peña.’
He was a bit taller than you, and more than a bit older. Tanned skin, tight pants, a pink shirt. A large pair of orange-tinted sunglasses masked his eyes.
“Muy bién, Roberto, ¿y cómo va tu esposa?” He said, and the shopkeeper laughed. You only caught a few words of the exchange and were unsure if you were getting your cigarettes.
You flew into Bogotá the day before and had just gotten settled at the hostel you’d be staying in for the next couple of weeks. It had been a solid three days since you’d had a smoke and you wanted to go to the park nearby and relax.
The man turned to you and began to speak with a rough but refreshingly familiar American accent, tinged with the light musicality of the Southern states, “I’m sorry ma’am for the interruption, but Roberto here was going to try to sell you the Marlboros, which are much to overpriced, and I couldn’t let a pretty little thing like you get ripped off like that.”
“Thank you? But I can handle myself,” you said.
“Obviously not, you sound like you’re confusing Portuguese for Spanish, which just won’t cut it here,” he said, turning to pay for the two boxes that Roberto placed on the counter.
He tossed you one pack, which you fumbled with, clutching it against your stomach to ensure it didn’t fall. He laughed.
“That right there’s a pack of Pielroja, it’s loosely packed, so I hope you don’t mind, but it’s cheaper, local, and ten times better,” he said.
“Thanks,” you said. As interesting as the guy was, you really wanted to leave for the park. Colombia wasn’t your first rodeo, but somehow every new country was exhausting between the 24th and 32nd hour marks.
“You’re welcome,” he said as you brushed by him and walked out the door.
Outside the shop, you paused to fish your lighter out of your bag.
“So what’s an American girl doing in Bogotá all alone?” The man was back, standing in front of you.
“You just don’t stop, do you?”
“Not really, no,” he grinned, leaning back against the building.
You opened the pack of cigarettes he bought you, lit one, and drew it to your lips.
“So, do you like it?” he was messing around with his own box and pulled out one. He held it out to you, silently asking for you to light it. You complied.
You weren’t sure if he was talking about cigarettes or Bogotá. “It’s nice. So far,” you said, exhaling smoke.
He laughed again, this time bringing a smile to your face. He had a nice laugh.
“You never answered me, what are you doing here?”
“Teaching English at an elementary school nearby, I start next week,” you said.
His eyebrows shot up, “How old are you? 20?”
“22.”
“What kind of 22-year-old wants to be a schoolteacher?” he said.
“Me, apparently,” you said, “But it’s not my career or anything. Graduated last May, I’ve been traveling and teaching English, got a gig here, whole school year, pays pretty well, I’m excited.”
“You’re crazy,” he said, “22, fresh out of college, your only experience out of the states was probably in Europe, and you’re gonna teach kids? In Colombia?”
“What’s wrong with a bit of crazy?” you said.
“What’s your name?” he asked, ignoring your question.
“Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he said. You liked how he said your name. “I’m Javier.”
“Nice to meet you,” you said, staring at him propped up against the building.
The top two buttons of his shirt were open, and a thin sheen of sweat lay over his chest and face. Something about the look with the broad mustache made him appear like he was stuck in ‘73. His smile was one of those that reached the eyes and spilled into those around him.
You exhaled carefully.
“So, what are you doing in Colombia?” you asked.
“I work for the American embassy,” he said. There was a pause as he waited for the impressed look on your face that never came.
“What is this then, a welcome package?” you asked, chuckling to yourself.
“It could be,” he pushed himself off the wall and took another drag, “But then again, you’re only 22.”
“What does that have to—oh.” You found yourself laughing again. Javier was the sort of guy that you’d probably slap in the face back in the USA. But here, with the cloud cover doing nothing to mask the heat and humidity, the smell of papaya and passion fruit wafting through the air, you were only amused.
“See you around, Y/N,” Javier said, and he walked down the sidewalk before turning a corner and disappearing.
Five days of getting to know hundreds of students in different classes during the first week of school, all while trying to develop lesson plans, left you lying in your hostel bed on a Friday night. You were alone in the room, the rest of the residents out partying, as per usual for a hostel in the middle of a city.
You would have loved to be out too, Colombian Rock and rum thrumming through your body, dancing with someone, going home with someone.
But you had spent too much energy this week and partying would have to wait. You had a year left in Bogotá, at least another 50 Friday nights. Lesson planning would let up once you got into a rhythm. And figured out a living situation.
One of the other teachers had offered her spare bedroom during February and a bit of March, but her daughter would be back in town after that, and you’d lose the space. The wait until you got your own space in February felt far away. March even further. But planning for that needed to happen sooner rather than later. The hostel bed was killing you, and you hated the drunk guys coming and going.
At least you knew you’d be alone for another hour. No one dared come back before midnight; if you were caught calling it an early night it was certain fodder for shame the next morning. At least, that was the way your roommates worked.
Still, to be safe, you closed the curtain, encapsulating yourself on your bed in the darkness. You closed your eyes and slipped one hand down your stomach, dipping under the waistband of your pants and into your underwear.
As your fingers brushed over your clit, you let out a small gasp, your free hand fisting into the sheets. The last time you had been touched was over a month ago, back during the cold December winter weather in Brussels. You worked your hand across your slit, telling yourself this had to be a one-time thing. You would go out, find a good hookup this week.
Your brain was overworking, shuddering in pleasure, and the man from last week flickered across your vision: Javier.
You imagined his chest, the open shirt leaving a trail right down his chest, glowing in the sun. You slipped a finger inside, gasping at the sensation.
He would probably take you to bed if you played your cards right. If you found him again. He seemed to have that kind of character. You remembered his last words to you, suggestive and sensual.
He was older, probably by a lot. You shouldn’t be thinking about him, but you wanted him to hold you in his arms, kiss your neck. You imagined how he’d taste, probably like cigarettes and whiskey.
The thought of his hands snaking down your waist, pulling you closer almost sent you over and you moved your fingers faster. His smile, snarky and self-obsessed as it was, had worked its way into your brain, and you wondered where he was now.
Did he remember you? Had he laid in bed like you were now, getting himself off to your name? And that image, flooding into your brain, as unrealistic as it was, caused you to almost scream out loud, your whole body spasming.
Finally relaxed, your body almost limp on the bed, you became aware of the layer of sweat that now covered your body, and made up your mind to take a shower. As soon as you recover. That was the best orgasm you had had in months. But where had those thoughts come from?
You had only seen Javier that one time, right outside the corner store, then tried and failed to shove him out of your mind. In the few minutes you had known him, you had decided he was an asshole who didn’t deserve your time, but the sort of asshole you could see yourself becoming good friends with.
If he was years younger, you could have imagined traveling with him, continuing your round-the-world travels with Javier would have been amazing. You had seen so many things during your six months in Europe and met so many people. Many of the backpackers at the youth hostels you stayed at traveled with others. Mostly, they were single, their companions just good fun and friendship for the journey.
You had long since imagined meeting someone on the road like they did, someone that would sweep you off your feet and set aside a year of their life to spend with you, hopping from country to country, odd job to odd job.
Javier’s shit-eating grin and verbal wit would stick in your mind long after you left Colombia. And here you were, getting off to him.
If he lived in Bogotá? Worked at the embassy, probably lived nearby? You’d probably see him again. And you’d have to look at him in the eye, the only thing running through your mind the memory of tonight.
You wanted to see him again. Wanted to have lunch and smoke with him. Wanted him to show you around. But after what you just did, you didn’t know if that was possible.
Sex was no stranger to you, the one night stands being a common figure in your life throughout college, but even you wouldn’t go for someone as old as him. You had standards. A guy his age was reserved for friendship. At least, that’s what you told yourself. Until now.
“God, I’m fucked,” you breathed out, sitting up and gathering your shower stuff before heading to the bathroom.
Javier had returned to the corner store every day for the past two weeks, hoping to catch a glimpse of you again. He was back today, 15:30, hopefully after school got out, he imagined, eyes scanning the store as he lingered by the refrigerators full of six-packs.
The bell rang as someone walked in and he looked up. You stood there, exhausted from a day of child-wrangling and his eyes lit up.
All you wanted was a bottle of something and a shitty candy bar. You were roaming the aisles, trying to settle between the foreign brands of chocolate when Javier approached.
“Y/N,” he said, causing you to startle as you looked up. A deep red blush began to blossom across your cheeks as you took him in. He was even better in person.
“Javier, what a coincidence, running into you here again,” that was a lie. You walked past four other stores just to come here, hoping he would be nearby.
“Yeah... a coincidence,” he said, reaching down to grab a candy bar. “This one’s the best, that is, if you like milk chocolate.”
“So two weeks later and all you’re still giving me local product recommendations? You should write for the newspaper,” you laughed, signaling you didn’t want the chocolate when he tried to hand it to you, “But you’d be wrong, because the only good chocolate is dark chocolate.”
“You like that bitter shit?” he said, still holding the bar in his hands.
You reached down for something that said 85% and figured that would be dark enough for you.
“Gross,” he said.
“You can leave,” you said.
You didn’t want him to leave.
“Do you want to go for a coffee?” he said. “You look exhausted.”
“Real good way to charm a woman,” it should have stung, but when Javier said it, you smiled.
“That, um, sounded bad, didn’t it?” his brow was furrowed and his smile was gone.
“Yeah, it did,” you kept smiling, hoping he would light up again. You wanted his excited face burnt into your memory. “So, what’s the best café around here?”
“Are you some kind of heathen who takes their coffee with no sugar or milk to go with your raw chocolate beans? If so, I have no suggestions because that’s disgusting.”
You laughed, loudly, with your whole body, “Unfortunately for you, I do. But if you give me a good café con leche I’ll drink it.”
“Good, because you’re not going to get away with that bar of chocolate and coffee with no add-ins.”
“I worry you have a sweet tooth and can’t appreciate good flavors,” you said. It was so easy to talk with him. He knew exactly what to say to keep you smiling as he leaned against the display like he owned the place.
“I don’t have a sweet tooth, you just like your food to hurt you,” he said, “Let’s go, there’s a good café down the block.”
He reached out to grab your hand and you almost lost it. His palm was soft and his grip firm.
Javier led you to the register where he flung his arm around your shoulders, “Roberto, te acuerdas de Y/N, ¿verdad?”
Roberto chuckled, ringing up your two chocolate bars, “Por supuesto.”
He leaned towards you and said, in broken English, “Careful. Señor Peña is crazy man, yes? He is flirt but he doesn’t mean it.”
Javier laughed, “No somos una pareja, Roberto, somos amigos. Solo amigos.”
You understood that part. You were friends. You grinned. After just ten minutes of talking over two weeks, Javier thought of you as a friend.
next: february: blossom
taglist; @pascalisthepunkest @turquiosenights (tumblr isn’t letting me tag so idk if these show up in your notifs)
#javier peña#javier pena#javier peña x reader#javier pena x reader#un veneno fic#camila writes#rated e#under 5#reader#fluff#pedro fics#narcos fics#javi x reader
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Amy Lee Of Evanescence On Women In Rock, The Freedom Of Artistry & Finally Being Able To Say What She Wants To Say
Music Feeds: Amy, thanks for taking the time to talk to Music Feeds. We’re particularly excited to talk to you at the moment because you have a brand new album out. How is existence treating you?
Amy Lee: Awesome. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me too. We are all just SO happy to finally have it out there! It feels really good.
MF: It’s quite a sonic adventure, this record. It presents all of the elements that people are accustomed to hearing from Evanescence and blends them with a whole bunch of new elements, was this a fun and rewarding record to write for you?
AL: It’s hard to sum it up in a word like fun because it is, it is so deep. There was definitely pain involved and challenge and all those things that lead to making something great, you know? It takes a little bit of struggle and we went through a lot to get to the place where we could write this album. I think the word that sums it up is satisfying. It feels really good to get a lot of this off of my chest. For me, this is partially due to having things to say that had been building for a while and having a new perspective to write from, but also musically, with the band, it shows how far we have come as a band and displays what it is that these guys and lady, that I work with now bring to the sound and that connection deserves to be documented. I really wanted a chance to show what we’ve grown into and it feels really good to listen to that back.
I think everybody’s feeling excited for the eventual day that we get to go play this stuff live again because for so long, our live show has been about making a great collection of our big back catalogue of music, but it’s all old, you know? It’s been a while since we’ve been able to really go, okay, “this is who we are now”. So having this now it’s going to be hard to play anything, but the new songs.
MF: I’d imagine it would be, especially given how much of yourself that you’ve put into the record. Now I know that you all went through a lot of challenges, both personally and as a band in the writing process, with some personal tragedies, the pandemic and even having one member stuck indefinitely in Germany, do you feel like those challenges added to the emotional intensity of the record?
AL: Yeah, I think that’s a good way to put it. It made everything more important. The music has been like this life-giving thing for us all to grab onto and to connect us to each other. As people, we’ve been so isolated, so expressing yourself and being able to share in that with somebody far away, makes it feel like we’re not so far away, on an internal, on a soul level, you know, we are connected. It has been so healthy for all of us to be able to pull together and have something to work for, something to fight for and build a world that we can control.
That’s something we all want so bad in a time when it just has felt like so much is out of control. So I think for us, to have this thing to care about and to focus on, has just been such a gift. I don’t know what I would’ve done without it quite honestly, I think it would have really gone insane.
MF: All of these situations also made you have to be pretty innovative in order to complete the record, finishing songs and sessions for the album remotely and thinking your way around how to be a band, without ever really being in the same room. In a strange way did that challenge make the writing and recording process feel like a fresher and more interesting experience? Do you feel that adaptiveness and creativity added something extra to the record?
AL: Absolutely, I really do. I’m a believer in that. I really, really, really liked breaking rules, especially when it comes to creativity. I like making music, making art; to feel like making art, it needs to feel creative and inspired and excited. When we were making our first music, when I was writing Fallen, I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t have anything to live up to, or I didn’t have a method that I could rely on. It was just creating a way for the first time. The more that I think you can tap into that, where it feels like you’re just, a soul scratching at something trying to make it come to life, the better the art will be.
You can be surprised by how many different ways that can happen. I was pushing us in a little bit of that direction with Synthesis, making the band kind of find a new way to play their instruments, where it would fit into an orchestral setting without heavy guitars and big drums or anything that sounded like those acoustic instruments, pushing them to find a new way. Jen learned how to play the theremin a little bit and made that a part of her thing. I learned to play the harp a little over ten years ago, I’m a piano player and they’re related, I mean, a harp is the guts of a piano, but it’s being plucked. So there are similarities, it’s sort of like French to Latin or something but different, it makes you play differently, and I wrote songs during that time on the harp a little bit, because it forced me to play differently. It made me write differently also and because of that, we got songs that weren’t like the way they would be, if wrote them with a piano as my route, like I typically do.
I think it’s really good to work outside your comfort zone and outside the box and to be challenged, it makes it exciting too. I don’t want it to feel like a job. I want it to feel like the fun thing. I want it to feel like the secret project because that’s how it should be. Right? Like your job is your job, that’s the cubicle that’s filling out paperwork and doing your taxes to be a musician. To be a creator, to be an artist, that should be the thing that feels like your freedom, your release, the thing you’ll stay up all night for, not the thing that you’re supposed to do.
MF: That’s a very empowering message and an inspiring message to give people too and I feel like you can hear that fresh inspiration on the record.
AL: Good! You know, having to, having to think around the problems, this time a lot of it’s been about the promo. We did get to get back together and be in the studio, all of us, except Jen, last fall and do things in a fairly typical way, which was amazing, but it was more humble like we were eating ramen and stuff so that we wouldn’t have to do takeout a lot of the time. Everything was a little bit more like early days, which felt good. It made it feel like we’re doing this because we love this, not just because it’s a cushy job. Having to think about making our own music videos or even this right now, like setting up the stuff where I have to film myself, that’s a new experience.
We even did Jimmy Kimmel recently, and they essentially said, “do it yourself, figure it out and send it in, and we’ll put it on the air.” It’s like, Oh my God, well, we’re all over the world, but we don’t want to pass up this opportunity. So you just have to find a new way and it’s amazing, the feeling that you can get at the end of that after you do it, the empowering feeling that really does give you like, “Hey, I did it, I did it!”. It means something to know that I cared about it enough that I tried and I made it happen and in the process, I’ve learned a new skill.
MF: You learned a lot of new skills in the process, especially when you’re talking about the videos, the fact that you shot two video clips on your iPhones… did you ever think that would be possible? And was it hard to get into the performative headspace to make that look as organic and as awesome as it does?
AL: It was really fun! It’s hard to explain it, but it really reminds me of being in high school and having a dream and doing whatever I could with what I had to make it happen. Once we got the idea we realised that it’s not like we’re going to be able to do production, so let’s make it about the soul, let’s make it about the point and the heart of the message and see if we can get that across and let that be the leading thing. That’s been sort of the guiding mantra about this whole time through last year and in the process too, has been: let the meanings lead, not the tempo, not the style. Whether it is deciding which songs come first, or what’s going to be a single, all those things really have come about this time by answering the question of “What’s the message we want to convey? What are the words we want to speak into the world right now?” Because this music, as much as it is for us, it’s more than ever feeling like it’s for everybody. So what, where are we now? And what, what could the world, you know, relate to or need?
MF: The messages on the record, are particularly strong. The obvious one is ‘Use My Voice’ but overall it seems like a record with quite a lot to say, and I feel like that might differentiate it from what people might have come to expect when it comes to lyrical content from Evanescence. Is your focus as a musician and as a strong voice in the community to just say what you mean now? Was there ever a point in your career when you felt prevented from doing that?
AL: I think the biggest preventer of things like that is my own self. The music for me has truly, always been the one place where I tell the truth, not that I’m a liar in real life, but the music is the one place where I’m not holding back from saying what I really mean. The one place where I’m not just keeping my mouth shut because I don’t want to deal with the fallout. So whether or not that’s always come across clearly, because I have been vaguer in the past with the lyrics, I’m not sure. But if you knew my situation and you knew who I was talking about at the time, it would have been a lot more clear.
It’s funny because we’re on a level now, where it’s not just me and my family and my friends who know me, it is about something bigger on some of these tracks and ‘Use My Voice’ is definitely the biggest one that is that way. That’s coming from me, pushing myself. I have been really pushing myself over the years on every album and challenging myself to be more specific and to say what I really mean because it feels good. The more that I can really let off, the more of a release it is for me to let some of those things go. It felt good and felt like, there was a higher purpose with ‘Use My Voice’ because we knew that we were going to be able to use it, to empower other people, and make positive change in our country and in the world, in the fight for democracy. It’s so important. It’s huge. If rock can’t be the voice for power to the people, then I don’t know what we have to do that? That’s our job!
MF: That is awesome. It’s also good to hear to an extent that you feel like it was always you that has been holding yourself back, and that you’ve grown through that, rather than it being a case of industry folk, holding those elements back. Because I think there’s a bit of a belief in the music industry that particularly at the start circa Fallen, that people wanted you to be something that you’re not. Those people around you were trying to force you into becoming Linkin Park or something?
AL: That’s actually true, that part, but I still wrote about all of that, I still wrote those lyrics. So I guess that was the start of me pushing myself.
MF: It seems that you were a bit of a trailblazer in the modern heavy scene, in many ways. When Fallen blew up it inspired a generation of new performers and it seemed to also open industry eyes to what female and femme-identifying acts could bring to that space. With this in mind, it would be remiss of me not to ask how you feel about the state of the industry at the moment in terms of its attitude towards the female and femme-identifying artists in the heavy scene?
AL: That’s the question, isn’t it? It’s not about women not being allowed to be musicians. They always have been. It’s about how we see the summary. So often rock these days is not in the mainstream. It’s boiled down to a teeny, teeny, tiny piece of the pie, and there’s only room for one face, and it’s a picture of a dude. Because that’s how people that are not rock fans see the genre. People that are rock fans know that rock music has never gone away, that it has legions of fans and thousands of fresh acts and perspectives, but whether or not these big mainstream gatekeepers are going to let that through, and show that as reality, is a different thing altogether. I think to an extent that people who don’t know a lot about modern rock music, still see it as a picture of something ancient, like an artefact of when they were kids. They still see it like Bruce Springsteen, or The Beatles, or these other depictions of old rock bands, when the truth as you know is that it has changed so much since then.
I do think that they’re making an effort now, I’m seeing an effort being made. I mean this last Grammys was all women in the rock category, In This Moment was up for the metal award, and I know that it’s not just about the Grammys, but it’s good to see that happening. I think that the world, our society is aware that this is a moment for different perspectives to have a chance to show their face and to shine and to say, “Hey, here’s, here’s something from my perspective”. I think that’s really, really important that we all are able to kind of see things through more perspectives than just our own. I think that is really the road to helping a lot of the issues in our world, in our society. Not thinking only from your little perspective of you and your hometown and what you’ve seen, and there’s a lot more out there and it doesn’t need to be scary. We just need to be exposed to all kinds of differences. It’s happening. Rock is definitely a place for all things, all people, you know. But it’s just gonna take time, you know, for that picture to change, when all it boils down to a summary, they need to stop summarizing so much. I will say as well, rock music is huge. There’s so much of it. We need a little more air time, please!
MF: Yes, yes, yes, definitely. Definitely more time, more perspectives, more diversity, more respect, more rock! I’m actually a rock singer myself. So I’m just sitting here nodding thinking that it would be lovely to be considered a worthwhile genre again, in a mainstream sense. Now, I do want to know something about you as a person, Amy. The band has a very distinctive, visual aesthetic and I’ve always wanted to know if that’s something that’s inspired by your tastes, the other things in life that you enjoy, or if it is just something that fits the music?
AL: That’s an interesting question. I feel like it’s both. I’ve always had a huge interest in the visual. It is essentially important to me and I always have ideas like when the songs are happening, when I’m making music when we’re in our world of creating, I’m constantly just seeing things in my head and thinking about ideas about how to bring the song to life with visuals. I’ll sit there thinking “ooh if we do a video, I need to see this happening” you know? Or, for example, with the clothing you see me in, I designed my own clothes. So a lot of the time what I wear either on stage or in music videos, I’ve made specifically for that purpose. It’s about being able to create a whole world and have a visual representation of who you are from the production too, on stage, it’s so important, it makes all the difference. It’s honestly, you understanding and accepting and putting out there a further dimension of what you are for people to tap into and to get and to relate to and perceive.
It’s hugely important to me, but it has to do with the music. You can currently see toys against a white wall, on a couch, in my house, so you can tell that my house is not entirely full of like black wallpaper and chains, if that’s what anyone was expecting. But I wouldn’t say that Evanescence aesthetic is straight-up metal either. It’s more complex than that. So it’s the side of me that is that trying to summarize the music in a way, in a visual mode, where it’s kind of like got some Victorian elements that represent the classical for me, and it’s got weird atmospheric things that kind of represent the electronic world, and of course it’s got the distressed elements and the darkness and the heavy feeling of the band. The more layers you can use to express yourself, the better.
MF: That makes a whole lot of sense. I honestly hadn’t connected the Victorian imagery and the classical music background before, but it absolutely makes sense to me now. Speaking of visual arts, you’re doing a very cool thing within that spectrum on this record, by releasing a graphic novel anthology that’s inspired by Evanescence music. How did that come about? And as a lover of the medium, that must be the most awesome thing ever, right?
AL: It’s so awesome. It’s so awesome! I have all these really grand ideas that would take way too much time and energy to actually do, while also doing my music career and being a mum and everything else that goes on in life, but this is something that I’m able to do because it’s coming from heavy metal. They came to me and were like, “Hey, we’d like to do this with you”, so instead of me having to find artists and put all this stuff together and create this world, they’re like, “Hey, we got it, we have the coolest, the best graphic design artists in our works in our sphere and the best story writers and stuff, and we want to do something based on your music”. So they came to me about a year ago and it sounded like one of those ideas that are too good to be true, where I was saying, “I’m in, now let’s see if this is just a bunch of meetings or it’s really going to happen” and it’s really happening!
The first two songs are in the works right now, it’s just so cool. I want to make this clear to our fans, it’s not my idea and my inspiration of the meanings behind the songs, presented as a visual. This is different artists and different writers for each song, getting an idea and being inspired while listening to the song and turning that inspiration into a beautiful graphic novel, based on their individual interpretation of the song. It’s so cool because it lets the music just take on more forms, have more lives, more alternate realities. I love it!
MF: I look forward to looking at every single one of these! Have you seen any of the graphic novels yet?
AL: I have, I’ve seen some of the stuff already and it looks really cool and I’m very excited. I have a little hand in it, giving opinions like do this, don’t do that, but for the most part, this is other creatives, just taking it to another place. It feels really good to see that happen.
MF: That’s so awesome. I’ve got to let you go, so thank you for talking to Music Feeds. I must confess that as a heavy music-obsessed teenager when Fallen dropped, I was all about it, so it’s great to see and hear you and Evanescence in such a great place as you’re putting The Bitter Truth out into the world.
AL: Thank you, that’s lovely to hear. It’s good to be back! It’s been nice talking to you, thanks for taking the time.
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What is social proof? It’s a marketing concept that we are all inadvertently, unknowingly contributing to every time we click on, retweet, like, reply or comment, and share any kind of social media, article, or blog post on the net. Technically, social proof, as defined by Sprout Social is:
The concept that people will follow the actions of the masses. The idea is that since so many other people behave in a certain way, it must be the correct behavior.
Social Proof and Me
As an author, social media is a hugely important part of my author platform, as it is for any writer or blogger. This is how we connect with readers now, even before the pandemic. Virtual, online events are now the norm. Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube Live video discussions are the new book signings. Twitter chats are weekly on any number of topics; I have two of my own, in fact, #SexAbuseChat every Tuesday at 6 pm pst/9 pm est and #BookMarketingChat every Wednesday at 6 pm pst/9 pm est.
All important for visibility, branding, and most importantly, connection.
However…there’s a limit. I reached my limit over the course of this past year. It didn’t come all at once. It came, little by little, reaching a peak this past month or so.
Why? How? Me, the so-called social media expert?
Access. Like many people, I have issues with the incredible level of access Facebook gives people once we friend them without our consent. PMs (private messages) are automatic, now with the ability for people to call, voice, and video message us, with no option to shut these options to OFF unless we unfriend the person (we can, however, mute a specific conversation). Technically, we do give them consent in the legal mumbo jumbo we all agreed to when we joined back in the 2010s.
I am not okay with this. And Facebook doesn’t care. Nobody cares. You’re probably thinking, “Geez, Karen. Shut up, already. Stop your whining, white lady.” I get it. I do. First-world problems.
I counter with: I hear you. It’s also part of my business. A huge part. Here’s why:
As someone who manages over 70+ various social media accounts as part of my BadRedhead Media business, plus my own accounts as well, Facebook requires I have a personal account in order to manage all those other Pages. I do understand why, particularly with all the ridiculousness of the past four years with the abundance of fake accounts, fake news, and such.
As a survivor of sexual abuse and stalking, this is ultra-concerning to me. So, what happened this past month or so? Suffice it to say, one person repeatedly tried calling me. I never pick up Facebook calls, especially if I don’t know you. Another left me a few voice messages saying they were offended by something.
Yet another left me another message in ALL SHOUTY CAPS that she didn’t find what I posted inspirational enough and she expected better from someone who is “supposedly on the side of authors.”
Oh, and there is the one lady who started replying on ALL my posts to the kind people who did comment that she didn’t think I replied often enough or to her satisfaction.
Well. I’ve been criticized before. You should read some of my 1-star reviews. There’s plenty!
But, for whatever reason, this struck a chord. I got up in my feels. I cried. I talked with one of them and we worked it out because we like and respect each other’s work in the mental health space. The others I blocked. It’s darn frustrating to donate hours of my time each week to helping writers solely because I want to, only to be told it’s not enough. Like, seriously? Fuck off.
My blood raged. My heart sank. Understandable, right?
But what really made me angry is that I put myself in that position by being available. I accepted that ‘it is what it is.’ This is what the social media platforms have given us, so that’s what I have to work within.
I’m too available. It’s too easy to leave me shitty messages. This is why people hire people like me – to handle this crap for them! So they don’t have to read these ridiculous criticisms from judgy people who apparently have nothing better to do or are having a bad day.
And I get bad days. It’s a damn pandemic. We’re all struggling. Where’s the damn compassion for one another?
I have a dislike/hate relationship with Facebook anyway, since about ten or so years ago when I discovered that a past love had died by suicide by going to his personal profile and seeing, “RIP dude,” messages there. We had spoken early that day. It still haunts me.
So…what to do? I’m claiming my time. I’m not posting to my personal Facebook profile right now. I’m ignoring it. I am checking my Pages and of course, my client Pages. When I feel like I can face it again, I will cull my ‘friends’ down from *checks real quick* 4385 people to maybe, I don’t know, the few hundred in my groups, many of whom I do know and treasure.
Social Proof and You
If you’re a writer, social proof matters. This is the world we live in. Publishing is not only writing.
You need to be ‘findable,’ not only on Google, but also on each individual social platform, so your readers can learn more about you and hopefully, buy your books. If you go the traditional route, publishers and agents want to know how many followers you have (easily upped by buying fake followers or likes from Fiverr or wherever). I suggest not doing that, because:
1) fake followers don’t buy books
2) it’s usually pretty obvious when you have fake followers because they’re all foreign names, have questionable bios, and no tweets
3) do you really want to start your publishing career with a lie?
They also want to know what you post, how often, and what your branding is. If you’re an indie author, honestly, the same applies. Social proof is about connection, building relationships, and authenticity. I’ve believed that since I started my business and writing career way back in 2011, and I stand by it now. Start slow, grow slow. It’s not a race.
I’m the furthest thing you’ll even find from a conspiracy theorist – I don’t believe in chemtrails, pizza parlor cabals, or that the earth is flat. However, I am a realist. Watch The Social Dilemma sometime. These huge tech companies share our data without our knowledge or consent (Cambridge Analytics, anyone?). Younger generations are so used to this, they don’t really care – ask them.
(My kids think having a chip implanted in their hands with all their data is a fabulous idea. “So much easier than having to talk and repeat everything over and over. Just scan me and be done with it,” says my daughter Anya (21). “Agree,” grunts my son, Lukas (15). Buy stuff, go to the doctor, whatever. Scan and go. Talk with any GenZ kid, you’ll likely get a similar answer. They’ve been tracked since birth everywhere. They don’t know life without a computer, tablet, or phone in their hands.)
Know that whatever we do, it’s all part of each platforms’ AI, and they share data, which is why that darling pair of shoes you just saw on Amazon is now showing up on Google, Facebook, Twitter, and every website you visit going forward. It’s all about the money, and they all get a piece of that affiliate link.
Every bit of every click is recorded, even when you’re watching videos on YouTube, or a subscription service like Netflix, or perusing goods on Amazon. It’s all connected. I’m not shocked or surprised by any of this, are you?
It’s Not Personal
What people say to us and about us is ultimately incredibly revealing about them. We know this, at an intellectual, psychological, and emotional level. Still, when people say mean things, it hurts. We’re human.
Does it matter in the overall scope of our lives? Who can say. It matters at that moment. It can matter when it comes to overall visibility when you’re marketing your book(s) or trying to get that book contract or interview. Only you can say if it matters to you.
Already a longtime fan of THE FOUR AGREEMENTS by Don Miguel Ruiz, I took a moment to reorient myself with this one agreement: Don’t take anything personally. I also stumbled across an excellent short and entertaining TEDTalk by Frederick Imbo. His main message to stop taking things personally is two-fold;
It’s not about me. Look at the other person’s intention and
It IS about me. Give yourself some empathy. Speak up. Ask questions. Pay attention to how you feel and be vulnerable with your needs.
I’m glad I was able to, inadvertently, employ point #2 and work out some issues with one of the people by telling him what he said made me cry. He apologized. I apologized. We talked it through and we’re still friends.
Ultimately, social media is what we contribute to it. What we make it. How much we allow of it into our lives. Social proof is going along with the tide. I’ve been in this space since 2008. Being connected to others is a big part of the work I do to help and support not only other writers, but also other childhood sexual abuse survivors. However, I’ve reached that point. I knew it was coming.
I’m not shutting my doors. I’m just adding a screen. With a strong lock.
***
Read more about Rachel’s experiences in the award-winning book, Broken Pieces.
She goes into more detail about living with PTSD and realizing the effects of how being a survivor affected her life in
Broken Places, available in print everywhere!
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The post What Is Social Proof and Does It Matter, Really? appeared first on Rachel Thompson.
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Heyo! This is another fic I was trying to make work but just couldn’t.
Hope you guys enjoy it, it’s been sitting in my phone for a year and a half hehe
Inception -
Leonardo DiCaprio is in your dreams, stealing your secrets!
“I need your help.”
Stephen is instantly sitting up in his chair as Tony tells him about the nightmares, and how they come every night in the form of the worst experiences of his life.
How he just wants to be able to sleep.
So, Stephen says he’ll help him.
He’ll go into his these nightmares and find out what is causing them.
The first night, Stephen finds himself in a military camp somewhere in a desert.
As he moves, taking in their weapons and trying to place where he could be, he sees the crates with the old Stark Industries logo on them.
And then he noticed the cave.
He slips inside, being careful not to bump into any of the ‘people’ here and give away his presence.
He’s barely taken more than a couple of steps when the screaming starts, echoing around him and making a cold sweat break out all over his skin, every working nerve in his body yelling at him to run and help while his legs lock.
Tony was the one who was screaming.
He felt the cloak push into his back and suddenly he was running, calling out for Tony to answer him, twists and turns leading him to the man surrounded by pieces of his first Iron Man armour.
Stephen just stops and stares.
He had a blue glow eminating from under the black tank top he was wearing, and the orange glow from the pits he’d been smithing at was bouncing off of the sweat on his arms.
Stephen was transfixed by the sight.
Tony must have sensed someone staring at him because a confused expression crossed his face as he surveyes the room, his eyes settling on Stephen.
He stands from the table, leaning on it for support as Stephen moved cautiously to him.
Tony was visibly shaking, and when Stephen placed his hands on the muscular shoulders, they sag instantly as he leans into Stephen’s chest, the Sorcerer’s arms winding around him.
Tony was rambling on about what he’d give to Stephen if he got him out of here, whatever he wanted, Tony would give to him just as long as Stephen saved him from this hell.
Stephen placed his hands on Tony’s face and brought it up, big teary eyes looking up at him, sparkling in the orange of the embers and desperate.
Stephen wanted to say so many things to comfort him.
He wanted to tell him so many things of how he felt.
Had always felt.
Instead, he leant in and touched his lips to Tony’s, who melted instantly against him, his hands gripping his robes to prevent him from pulling away from what he’d started.
If this was the price he had to pay for Stephen’s help, Tony was up for it.
But as soon as he had Tony trapped between himself and the table, the world around them began to alter and shift, hazing in and out before everything around them snapped back to reality.
Stephen expected Tony to throw himself away from him, to yell at him for what he’d done.
But it didn’t happen.
Stephen was panting, on all fours on the ground, and Tony was right beside him looking at him with those big brown eyes full of concern.
He didn’t remember.
Maybe that was for the best.
The second night saw him in Stark Tower.
Well this wasn’t as traumatising as the previous nightmare, so why would this be considered one?
Stephen looked around at Tony, who was dressed casually in jeans and a black sabbath shirt, a few years older than the previous Tony he had met.
Tony had a hopeful spark in his eyes as he told Stephen to do whatever he had done last time to end this dream too.
That hopeful spark slowly faded when Stephen told him he hadn’t used magic to end the nightmare, replaced by narrowed scrutiny.
He’d asked Stephen for his help to end these things, not to use for his own enjoyment because he couldn’t have the real Tony.
Stephen rolled his eyes, really not wanting to get all personal about his mixed up feelings with this dream version, when the entire tower began to shake.
Pictures fell from the walls and Tony’s liquor cabinet smashed everywhere as the two in the tower grabbed hold of the other to keep themselves balanced.
Tony really didn’t care what Stephen did in the previous dream, he just needed him to do that again so he could wake up.
And when Stephen finally tells him exactly how he had woken him up, the floor beneath them splinters and cracks and dust rains down on them from the ceiling.
Tony’s snide comment of it not being very good if he didn’t remember it had Stephen turning as bright a shade as his cloak, his own remark about how it was a younger version of Tony making this one’s eyebrows shoot up.
The tower groaned loudly and shook forcing Tony into action as he grabbed the sorcerer, pulling him hastily in for a kiss, Stephen losing his footing as they crashed to the ground.
And the shaking stopped.
Tony pulled out of the kiss first, looking around him.
Had it worked?
No sooner had the thought entered his mind, the floor they were laying on caved in, and beneath them wasn’t another room, but the infinite void of space.
Stephen grabbed Tony as the cloak around his shoulders kept them afloat.
A portal of New York City opened before them, and Stephen suddenly realised where and when he was.
It was the Chitari attack.
He’d still been a doctor at this time.
And that’s when he heard it.
Tony was muttering “Not again...Not again...” to himself over and over and Stephen could feel his chest rising and falling against his own far too quickly.
He tried calling his name but Tony didn’t hear him. He forced him to look up at him, those brown eyes he loved so much staring right through him.
All the while muttering “Not again...”
There was nothing he could do except hold him.
The third dream was one Stephen had heard about.
Tony was laying on the ground, chest plate almost cracked in half and he didn’t seem at all interested or amused by the Sorcerer’s late arrival.
Where was he when he needed him at the airport, when Rhodey was hurt?
Where was he when he needed him ten minutes ago, when Rogers and Barnes left?
Where was he when Tony needed him ever?
Stephen didn’t understand, they hadn’t even known each other at this point in their lives.
But that was Tony’s argument, wasn’t it?
Stephen had held an Infinity Stone that could control time and hadn’t even bothered to meet Tony earlier.
To be on his side when the shit hit the fan and Rogers got his american underpants in a twist over protecting a murderer.
Stephen had never heard Tony this angry before.
He knew their fights could get out of hand sometimes, and he knew they had each said some things when tempers flared, but it was never about blaming the other for something out of their control.
Then he was back.
Tony was still asleep, which he was grateful for.
He didn’t think he could face him after that.
Stephen knew this place.
He’d been here a few years ago.
Tony sat by himself amidst the red sand and rock, fragmented peices of the Iron Man suit still hanging off of his body and specks of ash blowing away from him.
Stephen stepped forward, making Tony look up.
His eyes were red and his face shining with tears.
His eyes widened however, when they found Stephen’s and spoke his name in a whispered disbelief.
Tony got unsteadily to his feet, holding his side.
Stephen knew he should leave, that he shouldn’t try to tamper with this nightmare, but his legs were moving by themselves, bringing him closer to Tony.
Tony began shaking his head, looking away from him back to where he’d been sitting, before mentioning how if Stephen was here...Peter was too right?
Stephen’s brain was screaming at him to abort this mission.
But he couldn’t.
He’d made a promise to Tony that he would stop these nightmares.
He reached for him, and Tony allowed him to pull him into his arms, asking Stephen where Peter was.
Tony’s voice was so small, so devoid of life.
He looked up at him, his eyes brimming with tears as he struggled to hold them back.
How could he explain?
He’d done so with the previous versions of Tony but this one...would he believe him? Would he know what Stephen was telling him?
This version was so utterly broken by what this nightmare was.
So what had the real Tony Stark been like when this had actually happened?
When their relationship was nothing more than putting up with one another?
Had Tony mourned him?
Was Tony as lost then as he was now?
Stephen could only hold the dreamer as his grief became too much for him and he broke down in his arms, Stephen’s robes becoming soaked as Tony cried into them.
What had he done to this man?
Why did he continue to torment him and remind him of this moment with his very presence?
Because they were friends?
Because he loved him?
Stephen wiped away the never ending tears, the cloak lending its support and warmth to the crying man as well.
“It should have been me.” Tony sobbed, “It should have been me not him.”
Stephen pulled himself out of the dream, took one look at Tony, and left without a word.
He knew what he had to do now.
He knew what he was up against.
Who he was up against.
So when it came time to enter the final dream, Stephen was not prepared for what he saw.
Black.
Surrounding the two of them was just black, with the eerie feeling they were being watched.
But Stephen knew.
In a way, he’d always known.
Whatever wanted him here had been using Tony to draw him in.
Well not anymore.
This was their fifth time, the fifth dream reincarnation of Tony Stark he had met.
He’d fought with his anger, gazed into distant eyes of denial, kissed away words of desperate bargaining and had wiped away too many tears when the depression became too much.
But this one.
This Tony was looking at him like it knew what Stephen did.
And was accepting him.
And that just made it all the more painful to do what he had to do.
With a simple incantation, a brand appeared over Tony’s arm.
Tony looked down at what Stephen had done, wide eyes staring up at him.
Now Tony’s dreams would return to what they were.
And Stephen would remain here to make sure it stayed that way.
But Tony didn’t want that.
He didn’t want to wake up if Stephen wasn’t going to be there.
And no matter how many times Stephen tries to tell him they were just dreams, Tony’s counter was that they were his dreams.
About Stephen, about them.
And Stephen can’t look him in the eyes.
Tony is shaking his head, trying to grab hold of Stephen with fingers that just went straight through him as he begins to fade.
He’s waking up.
This was always meant to be Stephens nightmare.
Tony was just used to lure him here. The entity that has been feeding off of Tony’s fears and regrets, gaining strength from all his weaknesses... He won’t let it use Tony anymore.
Stephen pressed his lips softly to Tony’s one last time as he feels them fade away from him.
When he opened his eyes, Tony was gone.
The world around him began to rumble and quake.
And the being who appeared was...himself.
Paler in comparison and wearing green robes instead of blue, but it was still like looking in a mirror.
Nightmare had really out done himself.
Nightmare mocked Stephen, told him his plans for Tony once he finally got rid of the meddlesome magician, pulling a fabricated Tony Stark to his side
The Tony of Stephen’s dreams, wrapping Nightmare’s arm in his own and standing dutifully by his side.
Nightmare knows Stephen can’t defeat him.
Stephen’s fear when it comes to Tony Stark makes him vulnerable.
Weak.
Nightmare could feed off of his torture for eons.
Stephen’s more than prepared to go through with it.
With Nightmare focused on himself, he won’t have time for any one else.
And that’s the way it would have went had Tony Stark not landed right beside Stephen and blasted his double away.
He is pissed that Stephen chose to play the self sacrificing card when he was trying to tell him how he felt.
You don’t do that to someone, especially after you’ve just witnessed all their flaws and fears.
Nightmare just grins at them.
He knows everything Tony is scared of. He’s a complicated human, but a human none the less.
But when he tries to change the dream around them, he can’t.
And as he fails again and again, Tony just stands there.
He’s not worried about those dreams anymore.
He’s come to accept them, completely erasing the fear he had of them.
And only a being who has conquered their fears can truly defeat a Nightmare.
Angered and powerless, Nightmare makes a quick escape.
Stephen tries to go after him but is stopped by Tony, who points him to the portal he came through.
And Stephen suddenly gets this gnawing feeling in his gut.
Like this isn’t the real Tony and all of this is actually part of Nightmare’s plan.
He tries telling him this, tries to get a straight answer from him, but if it is the real Tony he’s choosing the worst moment to play mind games.
And then he asks him what he believes, what he feels, as he pulls him closer to the portal.
Wherever this Tony is going to take him, back to reality or into a nightmare waiting to happen, Stephen wants to be with him, whether it’s the real Tony or not.
So he follows he him through.
Quotes -
“An idea is like a virus. Resilient. Highly contagious. And the smallest seed of an idea can grow. It can grow to define...or destroy you.”
Nightmare to Stephen
“What if you’re wrong? What if I’m what’s real? You keep telling yourself what you know. But what do you believe? What do you feel?”
Tony persuading Stephen to be with him.
In My Dreams, You’re With Me.
Nightmare has a hold of Tony’s dreams and is forcing him to relive shit he thought he’d buried long ago.
It’s up to Stephen to help.
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