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writing-for-me-at-this-point · 3 years

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The Missing Guardian | Prologue: Act I Scene I | Mondstadt: The Outlander Who Caught The Wind

A.N. okay! so first chapter of a new series im starting! its a series rewrite of the genshin impact plot. i had always wanted to do one of these, and with my comic obsession, if you read marvel/dc comics youll find some crossovers hints. hope yall enjoy as i finally start to write and get on some type of schedule. its also one in the morning so imma head to bed :)

Word Count. 1,633 words

Page Count. 4.8 pages

Synopsis. When you’ve finally found a home in a set of twins who travel across worlds, setting out to enjoy your time with them; learning everything you could while traveling from world to world. But this time was different, because this time, someone stood in your way from continuing forward, from going home. You watched as your family was torn from you once again, leaving you stuck in a world alone with only a guide, the memories of a life long left behind, and the hope of finding them once again.

[ Series Masterlist: The Missing Guardian Mini Masterlist ]

[ Act I, Scene I ] [ next scene ]

Prologue Act I: Scene I | Monstadt: The Outlander Who Caught The Wind

So, what you're trying to say is that you fell here? From another world?

But, when you wanted to leave and go back to your world... Your path was blocked by some unknown God?

You could only nod at Paimons commentary, watching as she floated next to you, a small hand to her chin as she looked deep in thought. Looking forward to the vast openness of the ocean in front of you, memories flashing before your own eyes as the pain settled in your heart, the wind slowly picking up before the tears filled your eyes. It hurt to think back at what happened, to how you lost them, the two people to found you after being lost for so long.

That carmine red outlining the dark abyss shaped like a star would haunt you as a woman walked out, snowy white hair and the bandages around her legs flowing around her as her voice seemed to break through your skull, demanding your attention while the twins next to you could only look up in confusion. The anger in those golden eyes was enough to make you take a step back, you've never met her- Hell, you've never seen or heard of anyone like her, so why did she come at you with such ferocity? Even her mere presence contrasted with the ivory, baby blues, and gold of your surroundings, the heavenly area around you tainted with this... Unknown God.

"Outlanders, your journey ends here." She demanded, the portals behind her sharpening with the wave of her hand. Lumine took a step forward, her shock evident in the small gasp she let out before speaking, determination and confusion spilled across her features.

"Who are you?"

"The sustainer of heavenly principles." She responds quickly, bringing a hand up to her line of vision with a small red and black cube in her hand, twirling it causing the ground beneath you to tremble, Aether looking between you and his sister. Shaking your head, you bent your knees ready to jump, the engines in your heavy boots started up, as your mask appeared on your face once again with only a light touch to the earpiece.

"The arrogation of mankind ends now." The ground lit up around you, red and irritated with magic you haven't seen before, your boots shooting you into the air as Aether and Lumine jumped- following your lead as they pulled their golden swords and allowed their wings to manifest, holding themselves in the air.

It was barely a second, before you moved forward with the twins by your side, your hands moving to the Quads in their holsters and taking them out for another fight. You only thanked whatever Gods in your own world were listening, and that damn mentor of yours, before your mind went back to the battle at hand- requiring you to fly around and dodge the large amounts of glistening red and gold cubes that came in your way, blocking you from the target of the Unknown God.

Before you knew it, the end of this battle came quickly, an explosion from the mere speed of you, Lumine, and Aether stopping right before the Unknown God to attack.

And that second was all she needed to do what was needed.

Her gaze fell upon you, making you shiver in fear, before you flew back and blasted a beam of energy at her from your Quad, only for it to be absorbed by a cluster of cubes. Your voice came out robotic, echoed with the technology that covered your face, you eyes moving to see the cluster of cubes enveloping the twins that were once beside you.

"Aether! Lumine!" They only looked at you in horror, fading once the cubes covered them whole, returning to the Unknown God in a hollowed and golden version of her twisted and unique weapon. She watched the rotating cube with wide, uncaring eyes, giving you enough time to circle around her and attack once more- throwing the handheld mines from your belt onto her form, the beeping accelerating once it met her skin, and an explosion following quickly.

By the time the smoke cleared, and before your mask could scan and gain some sense of recognition, the cubes that protected the Unknown God attached themselves to your outstretched hand, closing in on you while maintaining the explosion you caused. Eventually, it all settled into one cube that contained your hand, before you followed the same fate as the twins.

"Wait! Don't go! Give them back!" You managed to scream, desperation in your voice, as you watched another family be taken from you once again, your vision fading into darkness and your heart breaking once again.

And just like that, the god took away my friends.

Some kind of seal was put on my being, and the power I had was gone.

And while I had the freedom to travel the universe, worlds, and entirely new realms.

I was now trapped.

"How many years ago was it? I don't know, Paimon. But, I've gotta. I have to." You answered Paimons question, still looking out to the sea in front of you, mask now hidden into the earpiece that decorated your left lobe. The leather of your jacket warmed you from the cool breeze of the sea, the bodysuit underneath regulated your body temperature in any environment, but you specifically used it when in space when you held the title of Guardian. But you couldn't afford to think about that now.

Not when there's a chance of finding Aether and Lumine.

"After I woke up, I was alone- until I met you two months ago." You finished, looking over to your floating friend, who only turned as she spoke.

"Yeah. Paimon really owes you for that. Otherwise Paimon likely would have drowned... So, Paimon will do her best to be a great guide!" She smiles, hands on her hips while looking up to you, seeing as she always chose to float around chest-level when around you. You sighed, a weak chuckle escaped your lips before you sat up from the sand, brushing off the back of your cargo pants and looking towards your guide for this new world- patting her head and making sure to be careful of the crown that hovered above her.

You had only hoped Paimon would do most of the talking for you anyways, due to Tevyat’s language being foreign even to your ears and tongue, a feat for a Guardian of your reputation. A decent understanding of the oral part of the language under your belt, you found reading to be easier, since it did look similar to some scripts back in your own world. Your thoughts were cut off as Paimon spoke up, calling for you to follow her as she sped ahead of you, following the path from out of the beach to the grassy area ahead of you.

"Awe, the path ends here. I guess we'll just have to climb, huh?" You rolled your eyes, shaking your head while you started to heave yourself up the large rock, Paimon taking notice of this.

"You mean I have to climb the rock, P, you just have to float." You laughed, reaching the top with a grunt before she whined about floating taking as much energy as walking or climbing. It wasn't bad, you've climbed a lot worse in even more horrid situations, but damn did that take a good breath from you. You'd have to work on rebuilding some of your stamina while traveling here, and possibly need to find some supplies to settle somewhere for a bit, maybe even collect whatever currency they had here.

"Well, let's take the route we planned! We're off to... a Statue of The Seven!" She smiles with glee, before a questionable face appears as you both move forward, her head turning towards you as you attempt to take in much of the scenery and areas you could. Your heavy boots only crushed the poor underbrush and grass that came into contact with it, your belt that was filled with gadgets and such clinking with the sway of your hips- hitting the holsters.

This world is beautiful...

"Which of The Seven are you looking for exactly?" She asked, making you shrug your shoulders at her, hands up as you walked towards a nearby tree- picking up the strange orange fruits and packing them away before moving forward. They looked like some weird crossbreed of orange and pear, but, you hoped it would taste as good as it looked.

"To be honest? Any of them. They should have some idea of what happened, but even then, The Seven are gods in this world- and from what I remember of gods... they aren't too sane to say the least." You said, reaching a small cliff side that overlooked a lake with a statue near the edge of the small island in the center of it.

"That's a Statue of The Seven!" She pointed in its direction as you gave her your full attention, your finger going to touch the back of your ear to signal that, mindful of the metal to not trigger the activation of your mask.

"There are a few of these statues scattered across the land to show The Seven's protections over the world. Among the seven gods, this god controls the wind. Paimon's not sure whether the god your looking for is the Anemo God, but... Paimon'll take you to the Anemo God's place first, and there's a reason why~" She muses, giving you a small wink before turning around, allowing you to follow her down the path to the first Statue of The Seven.

To the first step towards finding Aether and Lumine.

Your journey has started.

#genshin impact imagine #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #gi x reader #gi imagine #x reader #reader insert #queen.writing #The Missing Guardian: Genshin Impact

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sunflowersteves · 3 years

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𝒇𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒃𝒇 ❅ 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: you needed someone to be your partner to make the holidays with your parents bearable, and bucky was just the man for the job.

author’s note: ssks im rlly don’t like this v much but i had no idea what else to write for fake dating au, i hope you all like it tho sjsjs

warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst, bad parents

holiday prompts m.list

Your leg bounced up and down, making soft noises against the padding of the passenger seat. Bucky let his eyes off the road for just a second, his eyes trailing up and down your nervous state. His attention goes back to the busy highway before speaking.

“Hey, you’re going to be fine.”

You roll your eyes, “easy for you to say, you’ve never met my parents.”

He chuckles, the deep and low sound vibrating against his chest. You could’ve sworn your stomach did summer salts, your heart beating faster by the second. Despite being insanely nervous about Bucky meeting your parents and them finding out it is all a ruse, there was a large part of you that was scared beyond belief about him being your pretend partner.

You had originally asked Sam to be your fake boyfriend instead, but he had to go back home to see his mom, and Bucky immediately offered his services. You knew he didn’t like you in the way you liked him, so the thought of being his girlfriend for a day terrified you.

And so here you were, legs bouncing up and down, heart palpitating, sweat forming in the passenger seat of Bucky’s car. He looked over at you once again, his ocean eyes meeting yours for just a split second. There was a kind of look on his face that you couldn’t quite comprehend, a storm brewing in his head.

“Are they really that bad, doll?”

Your heart fluttered at the little nickname, and you shifted in your seat, trying to ignore the way it made you feel. A sigh left your lips as your head turned to stare out the window, eyes following all of the places you would go to as a kid.

“They had their whole life planned for me and would always tell me that if I didn’t follow their every footstep, I wouldn’t be allowed back home. There was always a joking hint to what they were saying, but I knew there was truth to what they were saying. I don’t even remember the last time they have talked to me without mentioning money, or even an ‘i love you.’”

Bucky’s hands gripped the steering wheel as he thought about the pressures that your family had put you through; all of your insecurities that you laid upon each other during long nights had all come together.

Before you could say anything more, Bucky pulled up into your parent's driveway, “we’re here.”

He had given your thigh a small squeeze in support before the two of you got out of the car. You held in a deep breath as he softly knocked on the door, and a hand came to wrap itself around your waist. He felt you tense under his touch, and he gave your love handles a little squeeze.

He whispered into your ear, his breath fanning up against it, “we’ll be okay. I’ll be right beside you, okay?”

You felt yourself slowly nod, and your eyes trialing up to look at him. Your mother opened the door and smiled, immediately ushering the two of you in. You took off your jackets and followed her into the living room where your father sat reading a newspaper.

“Welcome home.”

Her eyes snapped over towards Bucky beside you, a smirk rising as she saw the expensive suit. You all tried to spread out in the small space; your body was practically on top of Bucky on the sofa. A certain warmth spread through your body as Bucky took his hand in yours; the pads of his fingers skating onto your hand made you shiver.

“Who’s this?”

The air was thick with tension as the silence rose beneath the walls of the house. There wasn’t a single sense of warmth that you felt from your parents, just a cold welcome home. Every single time you had come home for the holidays, it was always the same.

They would ask you how your job was, and if you were following the path they set for you, they would cook dinner and eat in silence, prompting them to pat you on the back and sending you away again. The Avengers felt more like your family than your own family ever did.

Your father didn’t even look up from reading when he spoke; you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Bucky could sense your discomfort and squeezed your hand, his thumb swiping back and forth in support.

“This is my boyfriend, Bucky.”

You could see from the corner of your eyes that your mother tensed; it was quite visible. Your hand subconsciously squeezed Bucky’s; your eyes danced in between your parents as they shared a look.

“What an odd name.”

He just chuckled beside you, and you were about to open your mouth, but he beat you to it.

“It’s a nickname, miss. My first name is James.”

She pursed her lips in disapproval still, your eyebrow-raising slightly at her behavior. You haven’t been here for five minutes, and you already wanted to dart out the door. If you were being honest, you would have been perfectly content spending the holidays with just Bucky and Bucky alone.

“What do you do for a living, Bucky? I noticed your exquisite tailored suit. Maybe a CEO perhaps?”

There was another beat of silence as you wanted to roll your eyes again. You leaned against the coffee table to grab a glass of eggnog, taking a few large sips. This was going to be a long night.

“I’m a part of the Avengers, I work to protect global stability and peace.”

Your father almost choked on her vodka, the name Bucky Barnes now popped into frame. He knew that name was familiar and he finally understood why. He set his drink down and gently wiped his lips with a napkin.

“Really? That’s not what the news said, isn’t that right, dear?”

He turned towards your mother, a slight gleam in his eye that was set with a hard look.

She nodded, “You’ve been on the news for terrorism. That doesn’t sound like global stability to me.”

You felt Bucky go still next to you, his face falling in despair. You felt your blood boil and your heart race against your chest in such ire. But before you could say anything, your mother spoke up again.

“Sounds like you are nothing but trouble to me. How do we know you’re not here to kill our daughter? You’re a murderer, and yet you think you’re good enough to date my daughter?”

“Enough!”

Your parents stare at you wide-eyed at your outburst. Your hand that wasn’t intertwined with bucky’s had tightened into a fist.

“If you had paid attention, mother, you would’ve found out that he was being controlled by Hydra. Bucky is the sweetest—nicest person that I have ever met. He is such a goofball, but he’s the smartest person I know. He’s attentive and sweet; he takes care of me when I’m sick and a coughing mess. He stays up late when I can’t sleep, trying to entertain me,” you pause, your face turning towards his for just a second, his eyes wide and searching your face for any lie. He found none.

“He’s more family to me than you two will ever be. Now if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be leaving now.”

You don’t waste a single moment before dragging Bucky out of there and trying to gather your things as quickly as possible. Before getting into the car, you stop him by gripping his wrist. Your eyes well with tears as you thought about what your parents had said to him.

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I should’ve never brought—”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you felt a pair of soft lips on yours, large hands cupping the apples of your cheeks. Your lips melded with his, and you started to relax, letting out a whine at the fiery sensation. Your hands move down his chest, nails dragging against the coarse material of his dress suit. His tongue is devouring your mouth, his heart pounding against yours in a loving embrace.

“I’m never letting you go, sugar.”

marvel: @harrysthiccthighss @fandomsandxfiles @rebekahdawkins @purselover23

bucky: @harrysthiccthighss @rebekahdawkins @marvelous-capsicle @purselover23

permanent: @captainchrisstan @angstysebfan @teenagereadersciencenerd @rebekahdawkins @hailmary-yramliah @stardust-galaxies @wiccanmetallicrose @keithseabrook27

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #Winter Soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter solider x reader #winter solider x you #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky x y/n #vics holiday prompts

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

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But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 18: Summers In Florence] [Series Finale]

A/N: If it doesn’t end with a wedding, is it even my fic??! 😂 For those who somehow haven’t yet read Baby You Were My Picket Fence (my most popular series), you might be a tiny bit confused during this chapter. Just roll with it. 😉 Also, COVID-19 doesn’t exist. What a wonderful world. Thank you so much for sticking with me and BYCNL. I love you all. 💜

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @anotheronewritesthedust1 @pomjompish @writerxinthedark @culturefiendtrashqueen @allauraleigh @deakydeacy @bluutac @johndeaconshands @nyxaura

It’s May 25th, 1984, and Roger and John are in Perth, Australia to promote Queen’s eleventh album, The Works.

Interviewer, daytime television host Ronald Inglewood: “Good morning and welcome to our viewers across Australia! We’re sitting down this morning with Roger Taylor and John Deacon, respectively the drummer and bassist of Queen, who are here to talk about the band’s brand new album called—quite self-assuredly, if I may say so, gentlemen—The Works. Hello to you both.”

Roger: “Good morning, Ron!”

John: “Hello.”

Interviewer: “And this latest album has been rather well-received so far, is that right?”

Roger: “It has, yes, and we’re enormously proud of it.”

Interviewer: “Now, The Works is a very different album than Hot Space, Queen’s sort of notorious foray into disco...do you think the back-to-basics, classic rock and roll feel of The Works has been the driving force behind its success?”

Roger: “Well, you know...I think experimentation is very important. We’ve always been an experimental band. The single Bohemian Rhapsody was hugely experimental, and that’s why it was such a phenomenon. We were experimenting long before A Night At The Opera, and I suspect we’ll keep on trying new things until we run out of ideas, whenever that is! I didn’t love every song on Hot Space, I’ll be completely transparent about that, but I certainly don’t think the album was a failure or a waste of time. It was an experiment. And The Works is an experiment as well, just one that runs in a different vein, I suppose.”

John: “Some people did actually enjoy Hot Space.”

Roger: “I think I know one or two.”

Interviewer: “Of course, it did have its bright spots. Under Pressure remains one of Queen’s biggest hits, doesn’t it?”

Roger: “Yes, and John wrote the bassline for that one!”

Interviewer: “Really?!”

John: “And Roger has his own hit on The Works, at last. We’re all very happy for him.”

Roger: “Only took ten years.”

John: “Fourteen, actually.”

Roger: “I’m going to murder you as soon as we get backstage.”

John: “You’re welcome to try.”

Interviewer: “Now this hit of yours, Roger, is Radio Ga Ga. And I’m sure we’ve all seen the famous music video, the hovercraft, the futurism, the clapping...we’ve all seen it, right? Where on earth did you get the idea for that song?”

Roger: “It actually originated from something I heard my daughter Violet say.”

Interviewer: “Fascinating! And you’ve just welcomed another one recently, haven’t you?”

Roger: “Yes, last month, in fact. A little girl named Nora. “

Interviewer: “Congratulations!”

Roger: “Thanks so much, Ron. Our eldest, Violet, turned two in January, and the idea for Radio Ga Ga came about when she was first learning to talk. She would always stumble around—you know how babies do—clapping her hands and squealing the most nonsensical things, and one day she started trying out ‘radio’ and then adding random words to it, ‘radio goo goo,’ ‘radio mama,’ ‘radio dada,’ etcetera. Well ‘radio ga ga’ got stuck in my head and I started sort of lamenting how television had begun to eclipse the radio as a medium for music and entertainment. We were on vacation in California at the time, and I locked myself in a hotel room with a keyboard and a drum machine to get it written. I initially thought it might end up on one of my solo albums, but then John heard it and wrote a bassline, and Freddie really thought it could be a hit and pushed to have it on The Works...and here we are today!”

Interviewer: “That Freddie Mercury has awfully good instincts about these things, doesn’t he?”

John: “Oh, he’s a genius, no doubt about that.”

Interviewer: “And John, I understand you wrote the other single released from The Works, I Want To Break Free. Any deep philosophical messaging in that one?”

John: “Well I suppose we’ve all been in situations that feel...rather constraining or hopeless. And then things that bring us back to life again. So this song is about a character going through that process and coming out on the other side.”

Interviewer: “Indeed.”

John: “But we wanted to keep things amusing and lighthearted in the music video, hence the dressing in drag bit. And to our absolute horror, Roger was very alluring as a schoolgirl.”

Roger: “It’s true. I have irresistible legs. I was born to wear miniskirts.”

Interviewer: “Ah, this is the music video that is beloved in Europe and here in Australia but has stirred up so much controversy over in the States. Has the hullabaloo dampened your enthusiasm for the song, or even the entire album, somewhat?”

Roger: “We’re not bothered much at all, to be honest with you. It’s like I said, Queen is always going to have fun and experiment and take creative risks. And if people don’t like it, then they’re welcome to not listen.”

Interviewer: “Yes, yes, I suppose you could say that.”

Roger: “Americans, you know, they can just be so bloody puritanical. It absolutely takes all the enjoyment out of life. All the humor. Americans these days can be very difficult for us to connect with.”

John: “Well, not all of them.”

Roger: “No, of course, not all of them.”

John: “But we’ll start touring at the end of August, and we’ll be spending several months in the States, so they have time to come around to us. We’re all really looking forward to being on the road again.”

Interviewer: “It has certainly been and will continue to be a very eventful year for Queen. And for the four of you personally. A new baby for Roger, and you’ve just gotten married, haven’t you John?”

John: “I did, yes. And Roger was in attendance! No miniskirt that day, though. Sadly.”

Roger: “The whole band was there. And my girlfriend and children too. It was quite a party.”

Interviewer: “That’s wonderful to hear, considering the...the...well, not to bring up tabloid gossip, but the complexity of the situation. It was a destination wedding, wasn’t it?”

John: “Yes, we were married in the Basilica di Santa Croce in Florence, Italy. It’s breathtaking, the largest Franciscan church in the world, built in the 1300s. And we filled it with friends and family and live music and flowers and food...all the trappings. Took about a million photos. Celebrated until dawn.”

Roger: “It was a very sentimental occasion. Everyone really enjoyed it. John cried.”

John: “I did, it’s true.”

Roger: “He promised he wouldn’t and then he did.”

John: “Well, you don’t have to bring it up all the time!”

Roger: “It was touching, really.”

Interviewer: “It must have been a magical time. You’re positively radiant, John! Marvelous. And some much-needed good news, I imagine. I understand you’ve recently gone through an exceptionally antagonistic and protracted divorce.”

John: “Well...uh...I suppose that’s...uh...”

Roger: “How about we ask you the same thing? How was your divorce, Ron?”

Interviewer: “What?”

Roger: “You’re on your third marriage, is that right? And I think I heard that the latest Mrs. Inglewood is very young indeed, almost thirty years your junior. How did your former wife take that news? How did your adult children? How was your goddamn divorce?”

Interviewer: “That’s a rude question.”

Roger: “Yes, you’re right, it’s an extremely rude question. So you shouldn’t fucking ask it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s December 25th, 1986, and the children are tearing open presents under a fifteen-foot-tall Christmas tree in the living room of Garden Lodge.

Freddie and Jim Hutton are serving cookies and milk and clapping their hands as they tower over tiny shoulders, cheering the kids on as they litter the floor with wrapping paper and bows and scatter their new toys everywhere: Care Bears, Magic 8 Balls, My Little Ponies, Mr. Potato Heads, Barbies, Etch-A-Sketches, Transformers, miniature Lukes and Leias and Chewbaccas, View-Masters with scenes of oceans and deserts and forests and stars. With so many fragmented families, there was only one logical approach to handling major holidays: convincing everyone to celebrate together on neutral ground.

Mary and Veronica are chatting by the roaring fireplace. Phoebe, Joe Fanelli, John, and Roger are embroiled in a brutally competitive Scrabble game; Dominique, smirking stealthily, leans over Roger to read his tiles and periodically whispers ideas to him. Brian and Anita are circling the flock of giggling children—Laszlo, Anna, Teddy, Evelyn, Lena, Antoni, Violet, and Nora—and snapping photos with your Canon between long, yearning gazes at one another, wearing matching Christmas sweaters that are a deep, passionate crimson. Chrissie’s husband Denny is admiring Freddie’s extensive vinyl record collection as he sips a hot chocolate and compulsively strokes his green-and-red striped tie. Tiffany the cat rolls around between his feet and occasionally hisses or gnaws on an ankle, which Denny takes in stride, as he does most things.

Meanwhile, you and Chrissie are camped out by the wet bar, drinking mulled wine and nibbling on cookies shaped like snowmen and reindeer. You give Veronica a wide berth with the children anytime you’re in the same space; she hates you, and she’ll probably always hate you, but she loves her children too much to poison them with that reality. Their happiness is her whole life, her purpose. And that’s the only thing that finally convinced her to come to the bargaining table.

“She seems...nice,” you tell Chrissie, gesturing to where Anita is crouching to wrestle a Yoda piggy bank away from Antoni before he can lob Teddy on the head with it. To John’s children, Veronica is “mum” and you’re the distinctly more American “mama”; and no one ever really taught them that, they just started doing it somewhere along the way.

Chrissie rolls her eyes and shifts Stevie to her other hip. For two and a half years after leaving Brian, Chrissie made it her mission to date at least one man from every country in Europe. She managed to cross off Ireland, France, Germany, Austria, Italy, Sweden, Switzerland, Portugal, Poland, and Greece before meeting professional archer Dennis Clarke at the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles. They got engaged at Christmas, eloped on New Year’s Day, and had a daughter that Chrissie named after Stevie Nicks nine months later. Stevie Clarke has adorably chubby baby legs, wide blue eyes, and blonde hair without a single spiraled ringlet.

“My therapist said I needed to cultivate a rapport with Brian for the good of the kids,” Chrissie says. “You know. Be the bigger person. Get amnesia and forget about how he made my life a living hell. Act like I don’t want to freaking decapitate him. So I, trying to be nice, trying to rise above and make polite small talk with my nauseating ex-husband, made a comment about how much I liked EastEnders. So he starts watching EastEnders. Then he begins to fancy one of the actresses. Then he meets her at a movie premier in Beverly Hills and invites her to the concert at Wembley. Then he ends up in love with the woman. What the fuck. You couldn’t write this shit.”

“Love is a roulette wheel,” you agree.

Chrissie scoffs sardonically. “Yeah. Russian roulette, maybe.”

After his marriage fell apart, Brian bounced between New Orleans and London, liberated bliss and aimless, disgraced, black depression. Whoever Peaches is as a person, she couldn’t tame Brian’s demons. You worried about him almost constantly until he started seeing Anita. She’s cheerful and magnetic and persistently hopeful in a way that reminds you of Roger. She’s good for Brian. She’s good for all of you. Well...Chrissie is still coming around to the idea.

“I do like that she wasn’t fucking my husband behind my back,” Chrissie muses. “So that’s something.”

“And she’s good with the kids.”

“True...”

“And her hair matches Brian’s.”

Chrissie laughs. Her sparkling ornament earrings jangle, and Stevie paws for them with minuscule, uncoordinated, wrinkly hands. “Okay. You win. I don’t despise her.”

“That’s the Christmas spirit.” You knock back the rest of your mulled wine. “I’m gonna go search the refrigerator for cheese cubes, you want anything?”

“Yeah, a Valium.”

“Slavic Jesus would be horrified. And on his birthday!”

Chrissie grins. “Surely drugs would be the least of our sins.”

Freddie’s sunshine-yellow refrigerator is enormous and a labyrinth of shelves and crevices without a single tray of cheese cubes in sight. You sift through jars of olives, bottles of champagne, a glazed ham waiting to be put in the oven, a sack of yams, eggnog, rising bread dough, and numerous pies—apple and cherry and lemon chiffon, naturally—swathed in aluminum foil.

“Damn,” you mutter, and then you try a mysterious drawer beneath the double doors of the refrigerator. Lo and behold, it contains a sprawling tray of cheeses. “Yaaaaassssss.” You lift the tray out, set it on the kitchen counter, and peel back the clear, clinging saran wrap. As you spear cheese cubes with a decorative toothpick—the handle is a little plastic Christmas tree—and plop them onto an appetizer plate, you hear the click of heels on the hardwood floor behind you.

You glance back. “Hi, Dom. Can I offer you any of Fred’s extremely expensive and exotic cheeses?”

“Sure,” she replies in that effortlessly elegant French accent; but that’s not why she’s here. She’s wringing her delicate hands, which are bronzed from her last holiday to Ibiza and ringless. Dom divorced the husband she had back in France—or maybe he divorced her, who knows, that’s not your business, although Roger would tell you if you ever asked—and she and Roger signed papers for the good of their daughters. But being Roger Taylor’s wife is not always such an easy thing.

“He’s getting bad again, isn’t he?” you ask softly.

Dominique nods; but you already knew.

Roger was perfect for years after they had Violet: attentive, content, startlingly domestic. He rarely popped pills. He went to physical therapy. He quit smoking six months ago at Dominique’s insistence, around the same time John quit for you. But since the Magic Tour ended in August—and with no new tour in sight, considering Freddie’s seeming reticence about scheduling another—he’s started to drink more, stay home less, disappear at night citing dinners or parties or recording sessions that Dom isn’t invited to. He’s edgy and irritable. He’s rarely home when John calls. And you can see all those immortal shadows of imperfection creeping back into him like storm clouds, like smoke.

“I’m going to tell you something,” you say. “It’s very similar to what somebody else once told me. I wasn’t ready to understand it yet, to really let myself feel it, to believe it, but you might be able to.”

She watches you with those vast oil-well eyes, biting her lower lip, waiting.

“Roger is wildfire. He’s bright, yes, he’s warm, but he’s reckless and insatiable too. He always has been. He always will be. And that has nothing at all to do with you. It’s not your fault. He’s wonderful, of course, and you already know that; he dazzles people, he makes life so exhilaratingly beautiful that you forget what it felt like without him. But he’ll always disappoint you. He’ll relapse, he’ll cheat, he’ll come home late, he won’t come home at all. And he’ll hurt you. He’ll do it as many times as you’ll let him. But here’s the thing other people won’t tell you.” You smile at her, with empathy, with sorrow, with hope. “It might still be worth it.”

Dominique blinks, not understanding.

“It might be enough for you to only ever have part of him, because that part is so incredibly brilliant. It was almost enough for me. And I would never blame you for leaving Roger. But I wouldn’t blame you for staying either.”

And then you embrace her, and she latches onto you, her long manicured nails nipping through your sweater, her Coco Chanel perfume a plume that fills the kitchen. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. You hold her until she pulls away, swiping at her tearing eyes with slim fragile fingers, sniffling, looking away to hide her heartbreak behind her shock of glossy bangs.

“Here.” You pile an appetizer plate high with cheese cubes and shove it into her hands.

Stunned, she giggles. “All my woes have vanished.”

“That’s exactly how stolen cheese works,” And then, seriously: “Don’t be sad on Christmas, Dom. There’s plenty of time for that later. And I’ll do everything I can to help him.”

“That’s why you’ll never leave the band, isn’t it? You can’t leave Roger alone. You can’t let him destroy himself.”

“I owe him,” you say simply. “Without him I never would have followed Queen to London. I never would have found this family. I never would have married John. Roger took things from me, yes, of course he did. He took until I felt empty. But he also gave me the world.”

She nods slowly, thoughtfully.

“Please, Dom. Go enjoy yourself.”

“Alright. Joyeux Noël.” She gives you a parting wave and slips back out into the living room, where Freddie is now playing the grand piano and signing Thank God It’s Christmas. Roger is assisting in an increasingly hoarse falsetto.

A moment after Dominique leaves, John strolls into the kitchen, humming merrily. He stops dead when he sees your somber face, your shining eyes. “Who do I have to fuck up?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “No one. I just heard something sad.”

“Not about you, I hope.”

“No, I don’t have many sad stories anymore.”

“Yeah, me either.”

He reaches out to take your hand. A sapphire glints on your left ring finger, and it means everything.

“You sure you don’t need me to torment anyone for you? I could get drunk and plow my Benz into their house. Or write a scathing diss track about them. Was it Brian? Please tell me it was Brian.”

You laugh and twirl a lock of his fluffy hair. “That won’t be necessary.”

“In that case, you’re needed in the living room immediately,” John says, smiling. “Antoni climbed halfway up the Christmas tree and says he won’t come down for anyone except his mama.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s November 3rd, 1999, and Roger, John, and Brian are promoting Queen’s upcoming compilation album, Greatest Hits III.

Interviewer, daytime television host Brad Chenoweth: “Today we have a very special treat for our viewers. Here with us in our London studio are the men of Queen: guitarist Brian May, drummer Roger Taylor, and bassist John Deacon. Good morning, and thank you all so much for being here.”

Brian: “It’s our pleasure.”

Roger: “I do screams as well as drums, Brad.”

Interviewer: “Hahaha, yes, of course. Now Queen has had an extremely busy year, and this Greatest Hits album has a few new selections on it, right? Take us through that process.”

Brian: “It does have a few new tracks, that’s correct. You know, ever since Freddie...ever since we lost Freddie Mercury, I mean, you know, it’s impossible to fill a space like the one that he left in the world.”

Roger: “Yes, yes.”

Brian: “But as difficult as it was, after finally finishing Made In Heaven in 1995 and getting it just right, feeling as if we had really done Freddie justice...we were left with this distressing feeling of ‘what’s next?’ What are the three of us supposed to do with ourselves? Split up and never work together again? Retire to the seashore? Open up some corner store to putter around in until we die?”

Roger: “A clog shop, perhaps.”

Interviewer: “You were thinking, ‘well hell, we’ve got plenty of talent ourselves!’”

Roger: “Well, talent, yes, but also energy. Drive. We’ve been working at being one of the best bands in the world for almost thirty years now, Brad. I wouldn’t even know how to begin to stop.”

Brian: “None of us wanted to stop, we came to that realization. And so we’ve done a tremendous amount of benefit concerts and recording sessions with some of the best artists of our time, and I think people who listen to this album are really going to appreciate that. We’ve got a live version of Somebody to Love with George Michael, and The Show Must Go On with Elton John, he’s just lovely to work with...oh and a rap version of Another One Bites The Dust with Wyclef Jean, which John was not exactly a fan of. But we all have to learn to give and take, don’t we?”

Interviewer: “Absolutely, and I’m really looking forward to getting my hands on a copy of this record. Is there any chance Queen might settle on a permanent new front man one day?”

Roger: “If we can ever find somebody John likes enough!”

Interviewer: “But, truthfully...none of you wanted to quit after Freddie passed away? It was a unanimous decision to keep with it?”

Roger: “Essentially, yes. I mean I think it was an all or nothing deal, wasn’t it? If one of us left then that would throw the whole thing off. I was always adamant from very early on in the band’s lifetime that I wouldn’t be interested in continuing without John. And I couldn’t imagine him and Brian being left alone together, my god, there’d be literal bloodshed, someone’s throat would be cut within the hour, believe me.”

John: “We might have lasted a day or two. But yes, it was more or less unanimous.”

Interviewer: “Now you’ve always been known as the quiet, domestic one, John. You weren’t tempted by the thought of retirement? Not even for a moment?”

John: “Well...I think it depends on the circumstances, really. I like working, and I like touring and traveling a good part of the year. But I imagine I’d get very homesick if I was alone on the road. Fortunately, that’s not the case. So the thought of retirement didn’t appeal to me nearly as much as it might have otherwise.”

Interviewer: “That’s right, I understand that your wife has been Queen’s touring nurse for...how long now? Twenty years?”

John: “Since 1974, so that’s twenty-five years.”

Roger: “Wow. It’s been that long?!”

Brian: “Feels like yesterday, doesn’t it?”

Interviewer: “How lucky for you, John. And look, you’re beaming!”

Roger: “Get it together, Deaks.”

John: “I’m an astronomically lucky man. It’s like having home with you anywhere in the world.”

Roger: “She’s good for curing hangovers as well, so that’s useful. And she knits everyone hats.”

Interviewer: “And you’ve got children, haven’t you John?’

John: “Four from my first marriage, yes. They’re all adults now so they come to visit us quite often, especially when we’re travelling. It worked out beautifully really, because they’re very close to their mother, of course, but my wife and I got together when they were all still fairly young, and so she’s always been there for them as they’ve grown up. My youngest especially was a rather...how would you say it diplomatically? A spirited child. But he warmed to her right away.”

Brian: “All the children are still friendly with each other as well, mine and Roger’s and John’s.”

Interviewer: “One big happy family, huh?”

Roger: “There are still a good amount of screaming matches between us dads, to be completely forthcoming.”

John: “You have to keep things interesting.”

Roger: “Exactly!”

Interviewer: “Yes, one can sense that there are still plenty of egos in this room, even after all these years! Tell me, Queen is nearly three decades old now, a worldwide phenomenon, the second-bestselling artist in the UK of all time behind the Beatles...how have you stayed together for so long when most bands last only a fraction of Queen’s lifespan?”

John: “Well I think we’ve all, you know, for the good of the band we’ve all had to grow towards each other to bridge the disagreements and keep peace. For example, I’ve had to learn to be more communicative, more open to collaboration and change. I can be someone who’s very comfortable being in the background. But then I’m resentful if people don’t see my point of view, even if I haven’t properly expressed it. So I have certainly had to work on that quite a lot.”

Brian: “Yes, John, I think that’s very true. Personally, I’ve had to learn to not get lost in the details so much. I have a bad habit of getting so fixated on something that I cause a massive row over a vanishingly small aspect of a song that no one else will ever notice. It’s just not worth the strife. So I’ve really tried to avoid that. Although, I’ll admit it, I still occasionally cause my share of drama.”

John: “Oh, sure.”

Roger: “And I’ve had to work on being less...”

John: “Annoying?”

Brian: “Combative?”

Roger: “Fiery.”

John: “That’s one word for it.”

Interviewer: “Was there ever a time when Queen’s existence was in serious jeopardy? And if so, how did you pull through?”

Brian: “Well, to be perfectly honest, as a band we went through quite a difficult time in the early 80s. And then we did again in the early 90s. And on both occasions there was a real worry that Queen might be over and we would all go our separate ways. But what kept us together through that...and feel free to disagree, Rog, John, if you have a different perspective...but what I feel kept us together was this profound sense of family. Queen predates all of our marriages, our children, our successes in the music industry or otherwise. It has become a constant place of belonging in the midst of professional and personal turmoil. And now our partners and children have been integrated into that network as well, so even if an individual relationship is strained or falls apart, the gravity of the band keeps us all in a perpetual symbiotic orbit. And I don’t see that ever ending.”

John: “Yes, well, I suppose that about sums it up, doesn’t it?”

Roger: “Bleeding christ, Brian. ‘Perpetual symbiotic orbit.’ Just say we’re friends, you pretentious twit.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s August 19th, 2020, and John’s 69th birthday party is winding down as the sun dips lazily into the rust-colored western horizon.

You’re standing on the cobblestones in the garden behind the Surrey house. You had always thought it was too extravagant, too massive; it wasn’t until Roger sold it to you and John in the spring of 1982 that you realized it was the perfect size after all. Six bedrooms meant one for each of the children, one for you and John—the one with the blue-grey wallpaper and nautical decorations, to be exact—and the last for when Chrissie and Denny or Roger and Dom stay the night, which is fairly frequently. Your vacation home, where you and John spend most of the summer when Queen isn’t on tour, is a little country cottage in the sunlit Alpine hills of Florence, Italy. John designed it himself, every last detail; right down to the white picket fence grown over with ivy.

“Look what we got in the mail.” You hold up the invitation to show your husband, grinning, raising your eyebrows. “Guess we have to buy him another toaster.”

He reads the names on the shimmering cardstock patterned with jungle ferns and dinosaur footprints. Interesting choices. “Is Ben actually going through with it this time?”

“John!”

“Wasn’t he supposed to marry some Italian heiress or something?”

“Love can be complicated, Mr. Deacon,” you remind him.

When he smiles, crinkles spring up around his eyes. “Yes, I suppose it can be.”

“Ben Hardy’s having another wedding?” Chrissie calls over from where she’s shooting arrows at the archery targets set up in the backyard. Denny periodically steps in to correct the angle of her wrist or elbow. “And Queen’s invited this time?”

“Apparently,” you reply. “You could go too if you were still married to Brian.”

“Ha!” Chrissie cackles and looses an arrow. It hits damn near the bullseye. “Not worth it.”

“I’ll bring back all the scandalous gossip I can scrounge for you.”

“You better. What do the kids call it now? Spilling the tea? Spill all the tea, bitch.”

“Oh, kettles and kettles’ worth.”

“So a teapot,” John says. “Not another toaster. Maybe decorated with...” He squints at the invitation again. “What’s the theme? What do they like? Fossils? Brontosauruses?”

“Bizarre people,” Chrissie mutters.

“I’ll figure something out,” you say. “Something special. Something old.”

“John?” Brian shouts from the doorway that leads into the kitchen. Inside the refrigerator is covered with sketches and birthday cards and photographs curling and fading around the edges. “Anita and I are heading out now, can we get a hug goodbye?”

“Ugh,” John jokes. “Well, alright.” He gives you a wink as he trots off.

The Surrey house isn’t exactly roaring—John has never been one for crowds, and incidentally neither have you—but it is alive with his children and grandchildren and life-long friends. Not just his, you correct yourself. Ours.

Veronica—once Tetzlaff, then Deacon, then Tetzlaff again, and finally Kowalski—is not in attendance. You see her only at holidays and birthday celebrations for the kids and grandchildren, and even then only in passing. She is still cold towards you, resentful, extremely Catholic...although somewhat less dogmatic since her second husband Ivan, a former priest, left the Church to marry her. When the last of her children were grown, Veronica got certified to be a doula and now primarily serves unwed mothers seeking assistance from Catholic charities in London. She mentioned to Chrissie, who later told you, that something you had once done for her had inspired her to pursue it. That’s the only nice thing you’ve heard her say about you in almost forty years.

Roger wanders over to meet you, nursing a Heineken, stroking his white beard with his free hand. He and Dominique have always been off and on—including a few years in the late 80s when he moved out of their three-story Kensington townhouse and had a daughter called Adeline with some leggy, platinum blonde supermodel—but these days they’re mostly on. He and Dom had two children after their reconciliation: a son, Blaise, and a daughter named by Freddie after the Japanese word for tiger, Tora.

You gaze out into the sunset. Half of the garden is flooded with white calla lilies, a new bouquet for every February 15th since 1978.

“You’ll be sending back an RSVP in the affirmative?” Roger asks.

“Of course! Any excuse to visit the States. And I like Ben. Although he doesn’t look anything like you.”

He groans. “Those wigs, bloody hell.”

“It’s like they produced a whole movie just to have an excuse to make fun of your atrociously crunchy bleached hair.”

“And I bet you enjoyed that.”

“You deserved it.” When Freddie’s health began to fail and Queen stopped touring, you went back to school to get a degree in physical therapy. You and Roger have sessions three times a week, provided he’s on the wagon; and he usually is, nowadays. When he’s not, John’s the one to get the call from Dominique, and he hunts Roger down, convinces him to come home, works whatever quiet, soothing magic he carries around in his deep pacific blood. But right this moment, Roger is awfully quiet himself. His large, pale eyes—like clear water, like unraveling delphiniums, like the harmony that only comes when age burns away all those last entrenched talons of bitterness, of fear—skate over the calla lilies.

“Do you think things would have been different for us?” Roger asks softly. “If she had lived.”

It took you a long time to understand why Roger was in no hurry to get a divorce, to move you out of the Surrey house. They were the only ties he thought he had to anchor you to the band, to him. They were the only cards he thought he had to play to keep you in his life in any capacity. But John fixed that dilemma. He can fix just about anything, you’ve learned.

“No,” you tell Roger. “You would have worn me down eventually. You and your drinking and drugs and late nights and interminable recklessness. It might have taken longer, but we always would have ended. And John always would have been my home. She wouldn’t have kept us together. She just would have lived. And I wouldn’t have loved her for being a part of you. I would have loved her for whoever she was, whoever she grew up to be. But now I’ll never know who that would have been. I love the children I have, Roger, I do. But I still miss her, miss the person she would have been. It’s like chasing a shadow. It’s like a page of a book written in a language I can’t read. And it’s a feeling that never quite goes away.”

He smiles at you wearily, immensely sad, full of perfect understanding. “I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s October 10th, 2020, and the reception is held under shedding autumn leaves the color of rubies and imperial topaz and amber and yellow jade. The exuberant bride and groom weave through the crowds milling about the quaint farm, which is nestled in the hills of a small town in Northern California called Zenia. It belongs to Gwilym, apparently, and he and his flame-haired girlfriend Shiloh are shuttling tirelessly this way and that making sure everything goes according to plan. They don’t speak much to Ben or his new wife directly—there’s a stiltedness there, an uncomfortable period of readjustment that reminds you of how John and Roger were for a while after all the secrets came out—but there is undeniable kinship as well. Love can be complicated, you find yourself thinking, for the innumerable time. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real.

Making the rounds with the bride and groom is a strikingly beautiful, dark-haired boy who wears a miniature suit and a perpetual, mischievous grin. The new Mrs. Hardy almost always has her hand on his shoulder, his back, wiping cake frosting from his cheeks, ruffling his hair.

“Eli is kind of a demon kid,” Joe Mazzello warns you. “But in the best possible way.”

“Hm. I have somewhat of an affinity for demons myself.”

“Clearly,” Roger quips, sipping pink champagne. The snack table is Halloween-themed and extremely casual: Cheetos and pumpkin pie and caramel apples and dinosaur-shaped brownies. Per usual, you’re grazing through an orange paper plate stacked high with enough nibbling material to keep any undesirable small talk at bay. But strangely, in all of the times you’ve crossed his path since Bohemian Rhapsody’s filming began, you’ve never minded chatting with Joe.

“Yeah, you two were married at some point, right?” Joe asks. Then he immediately blanches. “Oh my god. That was so rude. I did not just say that. I’m so sorry. I saw it on Wikipedia. I’m gonna go drown myself in the stream now.”

“No, you’re right!” you admit in a peal of laughter. “Briefly and disastrously.”

“It wasn’t that disastrous,” Roger protests, thieving a Cheeto off your plate. He misplaced his prescription sunglasses on the flight over and is thus relatively helpless.

“Rude. Get your own. They’re over on the other end of the table.”

“I can’t see that far—!”

“Dom?” you call as she sashays over in a flowing white dress and licking a stick of orange rock candy. “Please control your husband.”

She smiles. “If I haven’t managed it yet, I don’t think there’s much hope.” She nods to Joe. “It’s so nice to see you again. Meeting you people was the only bright spot of that whole movie ordeal.”

“What, you didn’t fancy it?” Roger jests.

“At least they included you,” you tell Dom, smirking. “They ignored my existence entirely. They threw in some random woman with zero lines and called her Veronica in the credits. Whatever.”

Dom rolls her expressive umber eyes. “Yes, how flattering, I was in two scenes and one of them involved a joke about Roger cheating on me.”

“You’re a star, baby,” you say. “Deal with it.”

Dom smacks your arm playfully. She may be annoyed, but it doesn’t pain her the way it used to. She’s had decades of practice.

“The script could have been better,” Joe concedes. Then he spies John as he approaches, almost drops his caramel apple, waves frenetically. “Hi, Mr. Deacon! Hi!!”

“Wonderful job with all of this, Joe.” John shakes his hand as Joe gapes at him, starstruck. He’s always like that around John, appreciative, in awe, acutely aware of John’s legendary place in rock and roll history; and you love that someone besides you and Roger look at him that way.

“Thanks, I did it myself. Just kidding. It was 99% Gwil.”

“Well, I’ll still get you front row seats at the next Queen + Adam Lambert show.” It had taken a long time for John to find a front man he liked...a long time. He drove Roger and Brian insane. He kept saying he wanted someone who was like Freddie and yet simultaneously not trying to be Freddie, someone genuinely kind and charismatic and empathetic, an otherworldly talent, a natural performer. And then, on an unassuming spring night in 2009, they found him.

Joe claps a palm on John’s shoulder and grins, his eyes glistening. “I’m obsessed with this little old guy! Obsessed, I tell you!”

“You want to see how old he is?” Roger teases. “Lift up that hand-knit hat and see what’s underneath. I’ll give you a hint. Not much.”

“At least I made it through the 90s without requiring hair plugs,” John counters.

“It was from all the bleaching!!”

“Hi, Rog!” Ben shouts as he rushes to embrace Roger, nearly knocking him off his feet. Mrs. Hardy is still across the field, talking to Brian, Anita, Rami, and Lucy, and trying to convince Eli not to crawl into a chocolate fountain.

Ben Hardy has always been somewhat of an enigma to you, mostly because he’s nothing at all like Roger. He’s subterranean-voiced and emerald-eyed and brooding and guarded and seems so much older than his twenty-nine years, and then every once in a while someone will come along and light him up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Unlike Roger, Ben doesn’t light up for many people. He does for his son Eli, of course, and for Joe Mazzello...and for his new wife. He lights up for her like fucking wildfire.

“Ben,” you say, holding out a bag speckled with black cats. “I have our gift for you.”

“You shouldn’t have! Thank you so much.”

“You can’t thank us until you open it,” John chastises.

So Ben does. Inside is an album of hundreds of photos you’ve taken of Queen since Roger bought you your first Canon for Christmas in 1974: pictures that have never been released publicly of the boys at the Rainbow, at the Budokan, in Rome, in Boston, in Japan, in New Orleans, at Montreal, at Madison Square Garden, at Live Aid, at the Surrey house, at Montreux. Interspersed are some of John’s sketches, the only ones you can bring yourself to part with: close-ups of a long-haired Freddie drawing on messy eyeliner, Roger adjusting his sunglasses with a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, Brian tuning his Red Special.

“Oh my god,” Ben whispers.

“Most of those are very old,” you explain. “And I heard you both like old things.”

“We definitely do.” He hugs you, suddenly and fiercely and warmly; and you catch a glimpse of what it must be like to be one of the few people that he allows to truly know him, those shadowed depths to balance Joe’s uncomplicated light.

Maybe that’s it, you realize. Maybe Joe is more like Roger and Ben like John.

The wedding playlist is exclusively classic rock songs: the Doors and Aerosmith and Fleetwood Mac and Led Zeppelin and Queen. As A Kind Of Magic ends, the eerie opening notes of Hotel California ripple out over the breezy autumn fields.

“Not this fucking song!” Roger cries.

Joe turns to you, confused.

“LSD,” you inform him. “1977. I would not recommend it.”

“Noted.”

Roger continues, rubbing his forehead: “It makes me think of...freaking...weird, creepy shit...like swimming at night through cold water. But I just keep swimming and can’t get anywhere.”

“It makes me think of sharks,” you say. “Maybe they’re related.”

“Freddie always said it made him think of birds,” John sighs. “And the color blue.”

The three of you pause, nodding, remembering.

Joe frowns solemnly, peering down at his shoes. “I’m sorry I never got to meet him.”

“He would have adored you,” you say.

“Really?”

“Are you kidding?! You would have been best friends. Always looking out for people. Always plotting the next escapade. That charming chaotic energy. The utter inability to bake anything.”

“Awwww.” Joe beams, delighted. “I fucking love you guys.”

“That’s the thing,” Roger says. “People don’t realize it. We’re more of a family than a band. We find people we take a shine to like ancient treasure, snatch them up, sand away all their rough edges, show them everything the world has to offer. And if they can survive the casualties of stardom, that trial by fire, they become permanent. They grow like roots into our blood, our bones...and perhaps we claim a part of theirs as well. They become things we can’t live without.”

“And once you’re in the family,” John tells Joe with a fond, crafty smile. “You can never leave.”

139 notes · View notes

puddleduckswellies · 3 years

Note

11, 18 & 31?

Thank you, Im guessing this is the “3 things…” ask!

11 - 3 books that you would recommend everyone to read.

My number one pick for this would be Jackdaw Summer by David Almond. Despite the entry level-3 writing style, this has been my favourite book since I first bought it from the old bookshop in the highlands. I haven’t read it in many years and yes maybe my memories are clouded with nostalgia but I still think about it often and would definitely recommend you to read it.

“One hot summer's day a jackdaw leads the two boys into an ancient farm house where they find a baby, wrapped in a blanket, with a scribbled note pinned to it”

“I want to be crazy as the moon, wild as the wind and still as the earth. I want to be every single thing it’s possible to be. I’m growing and I don’t know how to grow. I’m living but I haven’t started living yet. Sometimes I simply disappear from myself. Sometimes it’s like I’m not here in the world at all and I simply don’t exist. Sometimes I can hardly think. My head just drifts, and the visions that come seem so vivid.” - David Almond, Jackdaw Summer

My number two choice is also a childhood favourite which was bought in the very same bookshop as the first, however i bought it several years later. It is Dark Isle by D.A Nelson and is the book that introduced and got me into the fantasy genre. I love it because it is so individualistic and well written. It really does create a world unlike any other I have heard of. Or maybe I’m just biased because it is set in my home country. But seriously if you are looking for a new fantasy novel to read you should give this one a shot.

“A dragon with a grudge, a resourceful dodo, a talking rat and a young girl who learns to be brave. All on a quest that takes them into another world.”

“And so it began to rain. Cold, harsh raindrops fell like tiny arrows against the dragon’s unmoving, stone hide. She braced herself against the terrible weather that was to come, forever alone and miserable.” - D.A Nelson, Dark Isle

My final recommendation is a classic. Richard Adam’s Watership Down. I’m sure many of you have heard of this book and have also read it, but if you haven’t I highly suggest you do. The 1978 movie is a masterpiece in it’s own right but I feel that there was so much cut from the book to hit their runtime that the two stories have become very different. However if you do not want to read the book (which I would understand as it is very long and wordy) then I would say that the movie is a good substitute. Either way I can be certain that this story will affect your life even if it is only a little. On my trip to Yorkshire last year I couldn’t help but think about the Down and the tale I had grown up with and whenever I see a rabbit I think of Fiver and Hazel. I love the way that Adams was able to create and entire society to show us how humans are seen from the eyes of a rodent.

“Set in England's Downs, a once idyllic rural landscape, this stirring tale of adventure, courage and survival follows a band of very special creatures on their flight from the intrusion of man and the certain destruction of their home. Led by a stouthearted pair of friends, they journey forth from their native Sandleford Warren through the harrowing trials posed by predators and adversaries, to a mysterious promised land and a more perfect society.”

“There is nothing that cuts you down to size like coming to some strange and marvelous place where no one even stops to notice that you stare about you.” - Richard Adams, Watership Down

(Other books I love which are a bit less nostalgia based: faceless by Alyssa Sheinmel, The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness, and Orangeboy by Patrice Lawrence)

18. 3 dream jobs you had in your childhood

When I was younger my main dream was to be an Astronaut. Growing up watching Doctor Who I thought spacemen were the coolest people ever. As I got older I began to want to go to outer space for a different reason. It looked so peaceful up there and quiet, floating about in nothing with the stars and planets. Then I got to high school and realised how boring I found the non floating part of being an astronaut. Now i’m on a search for somewhere quiet and peaceful that doesn’t require me to know the laws of maths to get there.

I also had a brief moment of time where I wanted to work on a stage in Theatre (as many kids do). But I was/am a shy and overly conscious person and didn’t particularly like being watched never mind putting on a performance. I soon realised that I didn’t enjoy the idea of being on stage, but more so being recognised and working as part of a team. I really just wanted to have fun and get along with others naturally like other people could.

My third choice is also one that lingers into my adult life. Park rangers have always been a point of envy for me, being able to work outdoors in the quiet, making sure nature is safe and sound. Sometimes I regret studying what I currently am and wish I could just give it all up and switch to study geology and biology, but I know I don’t have the brain or patience for it, so for now I’ll stick on the path I have chosen

31. types of flowers you love the most

To be honest my favourite flower isn’t even my flower of choice. See, I don’t really know much about flowers and I prefer things like ferns or trees. However, my mother loves flowers. She has basically taught me everything I know about them. So my favourite would have to be her favourite, Rhododendrons.

Despite not being fussy about flowers I do still like some more than others, mainly because of memories associated with them. The Clover would have to be my second flower of choice. I know it’s more of a leaf, but when I was younger I remember playing hide and seek in the field after school, with the grass high over my head and the purple clover flowers standing out against the green. They signified the start of summer and the time for going out with friends and never knowing what you would do.

My last flower that I love is Foxglove (Digitalis if you must). It was another flower that showed the start of summer as a child and it was nice to see them appearing out of nowhere overnight. The name always amused me as I imagined little foxes using the flowers as mittens in the winter (something I am now definitely going to attempt to draw). I also enjoy them because I love to watch the bees fly into them and you can only see their wee bums wriggling while they work.

#ask game #thanks for the ask!#my asks #asks open #answered asks #book recommendations #wts

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druid-for-hire · 5 years

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UNSWAYED PT. III

(pt i) (pt ii) (pt iii) (you are here) (pt iv) (pt. v) (epilogue) (askblog)

this one’s got some revisions/retcons/refinings and new content. there will be some minor rehashing. this edition is more on the drama eurydice goes through on the path to find orpheus, orpheus’ deterioration in the Beyond, little bit of persephone and even littler bit hermes, finding orpheus, and finally getting to leave

thank you @supercantaloupe, @sonyalone, @unholy-boi, @s-aint-elmo, @ferretteeth for helping author this & help out w ideas and all!! sasha, u esp.

ok.

sits down and rests my old creaking bones in a rocking chair by the hearth and lights a pipe

gather round kids. this one might be a little long

one note:

on the same night that orpheus falls, persephone, when she finally composes herself enough, marches up to hades. the fury is still present in the vitriol with which she speaks. “you can’t have done that,” she says. “you can’t have just thrown him away. he didn’t sign any papers. you can’t make him work.”

“there were no papers,” he agrees, “but prisoners do not get papers.”

ok jumping back to kind-of-present

it’s taking a while to find orpheus. (too much of a while)

in between work and searching for him, both of which already take up so much of her time, eurydice... makes her attempts to craft a new guitar. hades took orpheus’. he’s going to either want it back or want a new one, and right now, she doesn’t think she can manage the first. it’s going to be important to their escape, she thinks, because she isn’t planning on staying in hadestown forever

but she’s not skilled, and making a real, good, balanced guitar is incredibly hard. she’s not trained. it never comes out good enough, never remotely close to a properly tuned instrument, much less the guitar that seemed to fit perfectly around orpheus' hands. and she doesn’t have a lot of time

so as it turns out, stealing back the original is the more feasible option

problem being: it’s a trophy. hades didn’t smash it, but it’s locked away with his other little “victories,” and he’ll notice it missing eventually

(those other trophies are other relics from other daring humans he’s had to deal with in the past. no one has come as close as orpheus)

but she does have more buffer time than usual because it's also a reminder of the martyr and the fact that his marriage is in the shitter so it's been put out of sight (and out of mind), so she's got a few days or more before he'd notice it's gone

as she keeps searching for orpheus, telling her story and getting help and word of her spreading...

eurydice stirs the town as the ladle stirs in the pot; out of all the feelings her story wakes, the most dominant—and most important—is the anger.

and for the first time, somewhere in some could-be-anywhere part of Hadestown, someone says no.

the age-old, unmoving, immovable hadestown, begins to... change. there’s persephone’s crack in the wall, and then there are others, and then they join, and then there’s unrest, and then there’s the threat of riot.

(which i know i already established but shhh im reiterating my point for this:)

unholy-boi: hades was at least formerly hands on enough to give orders, to scrape down new souls, to preach about the wall

now he locks himself in his office, head in his hands, unable to handle the idea that he’s losing control, and every MOMENT he spends locked away he loses control more, but he needs to think, he needs to think, he needs to think--

The fates are at his door, they sing horrible music, things he doesn’t want to hear, lies and twisted truths to manipulate the king. except he’s not being manipulated at all. this is all him, he knows it--this is just him and his paranoia and the workers' rage beginning to boil on his doorstep.

the god is hidden away in his office and hardly lets anyone in. he isolates himself and Persephone barely even visits this winter anyway.

he wonders if the martyr boy really did fail.

(no, he tells himself--he did fail, because his goal was to get him and his lover out, and now both of them are damned here forever. all of this? an unfortunate side effect.)

hades... was very nearly swayed by orpheus, but took his “obligation” to a city (that he’s already lost) over the slightly breaking voice of orpheus, and the rumors. however when he sent orpheus away, things only got worse. but how could he just crawl to pull orpheus back now? would that not be sacrificing his iron will? his grip of steel? how can he turn to go back if he’s already made his decision? moreover- how can he trust bringing orpheus back will fix anything at all?

a lamenting reprise from hades with orpheus’ guitar would be cool. i don’t know if it’d be in character or appropriate to the story but. its been a fun thing ive been tossing between my hands

it probably starts when he accidentally kicks it over--there’s a trophy room, but he hasn’t cleared a space for the guitar yet. he kicks it over, and when it hits the ground the strings hum Menacingly at him

after the song he puts it away--out of sight, out of mind

show them a crack.

and they’ll tear down the wall.

besides the immediate danger orpheus is in and his voice failing being drives to find him as soon as possible, eurydice also has to worry about the fact that persephone won’t be there to help her soon. the hadestown debacle happens on the onset of proper spring

persephone, for once, is grateful that hades keeps her late. it means she can help the lovers. for so many weeks she sends that boy’s voice on a wind straight for Eurydice to keep her going

but later is not never, and to the surface one day she goes, and bitter with the absence of his wife Hades drives them all to work harder

which strains Eurydice for time and energy even more

things are harder when she’s gone, as always—eurydice has less time to track him down, and without persephone’s sing-sing wind, pinpointing him is more difficult.

Hermes is there at the station to greets her when she returns to end the winter

“how is he doing?” “not well.”

“you think they’ll make it?” “i don’t know.”

hermes asks her, “how long?” how long will orpheus last? how long will it take for them to find each other and leave? how long will it take until hades finally snaps? persephone can’t answer any of them

(hermes knows, of course. but he has a role to play)

the summer roars to life on top, but persephone can’t stop thinking about the lovers underground. she knows that orpheus won’t make it through the summer. she sneaks down below for two weeks in june and in that time, a hurricane devastates the surface without her to control it.

the sing-sing wind returns with a straining melody and eurydice wonders. she’s grateful, but she wonders

and... one day it doesn’t. she feels the breeze, but there’s nothing on it.

nothing.

i’ve fucking had enough, eurydice decides. i’m stealing that fucking guitar, hades be damned.

in the sleeping hours of hadestown she sneaks her way up to the palace, dodging searchlights and finding havens, already at an advantage because she’s scoured Hadestown so long and made allies in so many places

and when she makes it up to the palace, the... the guards, the hounds, all of them are... either missing or intoxicated to shit. which is odd, she thinks, but doesn’t question it

she makes it to the trophy room (after a Lot of searching, because she doesn’t have a map)

she walks in and marvels in awe at all the trophies

she wonders about the histories behind all of them

to be honest, she doesnt know that this is where the guitar is, but it’s a pretty good guess (and the right one)

and then there’s a sound at the doorway. eurydice freezes. there’s nowhere for her to hide

she turns, and... it’s persephone in the doorway. persephone, who should not be here.

they lock eyes for a moment, and then she points at a locked case in the back of the room and keeps on walking. whistling loudly. a very “nope, nothing here at all” move

... well, works for her

eurydice breaks off the padlock, gets the guitar, and flees

musing on kampê for unswayed because i really dont want her to just be a two dimensional villain:

- homegirl is bitter. she used to rule the underground. she was the queen of the dark, and every god and titan knew her name, and hades did fear her too.

until. well.

and now she’s practically half-forgotten—a footnote. she hates it. hades and persephone are both her younger and yet they came into her realm, and she was shunted aside to this dismal little hole, and she has to answer to him and she fucking hates it. no mortal up Top or even in hadestown remembers her name. if an old dragon like her has no place out there... if she can’t make herself known in the outside world anymore, then she’ll fucking sear herself into the minds of the people she has, in the only way she knows how

(it should also be noted that homegirl is. unstable. i think kampê sort of violently switches between abhorrently vicious to weirdly sweet and manipulative and anywhere in between depending on the day/time/situation)

(also, she wasn’t always deaf. but being even older than the world, than hades and persephone, things... happen)

also, part of how she keeps everyone here is 1) working them to death and 2) telling them that they’re needed here, and that hadestown is an oasis of stability outside the chaos up Top

orpheus is not doing well.

orpheus forgets.

orpheus wears down.

(orpheus gets sick.)

whoops! That’s An Issue. but still he works, because no one can rest long, and the coal dust and ash and smoke and stifling heat do him zero favors

his focus drifts; he loses track of eurydice, of his songs. the work is first and foremost

you ever get worked so hard and pushed past your physical limit that u get like, spots in your vision and want to throw up? yeah thts orpheus

orpheus doesn’t stop sneaking off every day to the spot at the edge of the Beyond. he doesn’t sing out for help anymore, but... he sits, because he knows that it’s important. this place, where he sang out for a lover he doesn’t remember anymore with songs he no longer has

(cue Flowers but for orpheus, in quiet & faltering breathy lines)

he’s “forgotten a little thing called spring”

kampê still comes after him to drag him back to work. sometimes it’s wordless; sometimes she yanks him to his feet by the straps of his overalls, sometimes all she needs to do is put a hand on his shoulder and he’ll get up and shuffle back into the mines and smokestacks

other times she asks why he’s still doing this, why he’s still out there. other times she tells him that there’s no need to come out here anymore. he shouldn’t have in the first place. out there--it’s no better than here.

the times when she yells--few and far between, because fetching him is hardly much of a chore anymore--he winces, since it’s not like she has the finest grasp on volume control, being deaf

the scene we see is her sing-speaking some fucked up reprise of hey little songbird, beckoning him to come back and taunting him; i didn’t write this one out but i imagine there’s some fun things to be had with the “vipers and vultures” line

and orpheus sing/saying, in this cracked, hoarse voice, “I wanna lie down forever”

he’s. so tired

(also singing his voice, long since shredded, sorta finally collapses in this one and i don’t imagine him having another sung line after that)

the canary in the coal mine isn’t dead yet but he will be

eurydice goes into overdrive after she steals orpheus’ guitar back

(she strums a few notes on it, and it hums warmly of sunlight in her hands. her chest fills with something indescribable. god, she missed this)

she takes more risks. sneaks out farther and strays out farther. skips out on work, keeps cutting close, nearly gets caught more often than she did before

eventually. finally. finally, she finds him, almost unrecognizable in the crowd masses, but she catches him alone

and she calls out to him, her arm outstretched, “come home with me.”

so i’m going w the “recognize her right away one” and following what i wrote in the first post

BUT: the callback to “come home with me i” with orpheus’ forgetting in “come home with me” “who are you?” is Too Fucking Good and I ended up writing my own lyrics to a “Come Home With Me III”

i’ll post it somewhere. i’d link the google drive link here directly but then tumblr would nerf this post off of the hadestown tag.

you can play off of that if you want, toy around with it as a sort of small canon divergence to this au, but for the main one i’m rolling with what i already did in the first post... it’s unfinished btw there’s this small section i’m stuck on but i didn’t wanna delay this post anymore for something so minor

eurydice sees how much the beyond has ground him into the dirt—his eyes are sagging and half-lidded, dulled and shadowed and barely focused on her, miserable but too exhausted to feel

she sees this plenty in the ver. w/ Come Home With Me III before he remembers her, and for a moment in the other version before his eyes light up with recognition and suddenly it’s like some of the soot has sloughed off of him with the way his whole face lights up

also she shoves his guitar at him and he’s !!

it’s. horribly out of tune though. he’s tuning it while they talk a little

but either way: the steam whistle blows, the signal to get back to work, and orpheus is immediately lowkey fearful and trying to get back before kampê catches them

eurydie is completely “oh hell to the fuck no i JUST got you back after MONTHS of searching you are NOT leaving”

orpheus is just afraid of what kampê’ll do if she sees them together, he doesn’t plan on leaving her -- he doesn’t hand her back the guitar, after all

again, kampê isn’t the most stable

then uhhh Whoops they spend too long there and she catches them, a la Papers

cue panic

cue tousling w/ eurydice and somehow getting kampê still enough (probably w pinning) to try and listen to Orpheus and she's just waiting to kick his ass because no music is ever gonna sway her, boy

(the dogs get placated by a few chords plucked out)

he can't sing, but he plays

and the other workers listen, and are moved

they are moved by eurydice's act of coming here after him

by listening to orpheus sing of love

by listening to orpheus forget, and deteriorate

by having spent months listen to their love last and finally succeed with eurydice's arrival, this stalwart notion of hope

they didn’t ignore it. everybody knows the walls have ears

and they join by accompanying orpheus' song with the heavy metal sounds of the factories

they stomp, they clang, they turn grinding gears that crash and pound, in synchrony

(where the little wheel squeals and the big wheel groans)

it’s a percussive song that they make

more than a simple tune, a steady beat, more than just the music of machinery

it shakes the entire Beyond with the force of the determination of a thousand weary souls, of the hopeless regaining hope for the first time in centuries

Forced through the percussive force of the entire Beyond, implicit in its rhythm and shake, is the old song. all of this old and rusted metal, all of this harsh machinery, all of it singularly resonant in the notion of la, la la la, la la la

kampê feels it all through her feet and it rumbles in her chest, it shakes her to her very core and rattles her down to her bones, twists in her gut and forces in her fear and awe, and awe and wonder, and... something else

eurydice feels her loosen under her grip and backs off from pinning her and she still doesn’t move

at some point she lurches forward with her fist raised--orpheus doesn’t stop playing but he does shut his eyes, thinking oh god this is it, and eurydice rushes forward to pull her back

but she just... punches her fist into the ground by his feet

she feels everything not only through her feet but up her arm, more directly to her chest, to her heart, to her head

at last, swayed, feeling far more of something other than fear or anxiety or anger than she ever has in a long time...

she lets them all go

ok ngl there’s some blank spots here. i’m blanking here. idk how to transition

but

it's an entire exodus out from this tiny secluded part of Hadestown

The Great Beyond empties itself out and Kampê is left behind

the move is headed by Orpheus & Eurydice and the mood is very similar to the exodus from Egypt by the jewish folk in the movie Prince of Egypt

including the dark lighting, teal against the warm orange-yellow of their torches (lamps in this case), the wind, the craggy rock, everyone together, overall just the general tone

so during this walk from the Beyond to central hadestown with orpheus & eurydice more or less alone at the front is when Promises happens

it’s. a hell of a lot sadder here, but also a lot softer and more tender

orpheus’ lines are spoken like with Come Home With Me I / II coz he ain’t singin’ anymore. he can’t

and that’s the thing, he can’t sing anymore.

all those things he said in wedding song, all his promises--that his voice would convince the world to give them everything they need

orpheus... doesn't have that anymore, or at least not nearly as strong, or traditionally lovely as it used to be

his voice was cut into pieces from the nasty shit air in the places he was sent to work

all he has is his guitar, and while he’s good at it, his real strength is in his poetry--it’s his voice and his words that makes the rivers and the trees and birds sing along

the people of the Beyond may have been inspired to percussion by his guitar, but they were more swayed by the notion of their love that was built up over the past few months ever since he got banished

so like. to walk with eurydice and be by her side for as long as he lives, is really all he can really promise her at that point anyway

it's not even that he doesn't have anything and broke the promise that he’d sing them all they needed. he can’t even do that anymore

the voice that charmed her, that said he’d provide for her, is gone

would she love him now, he wonders, if the great poet can no longer sing

and many thanks to @sonyalone for contributing this:

he offers his devotion to her. the only thing he has that’s worth anything, the only thing he can do. and when he does hes so afraid that he'll see in her eyes the understanding disappointment, the pity and "i suppose so" that he fears, but he finally raises his head and he cries because her eyes are shining with joy and love and hope. thats all she ever wanted from him. she just wants to be with him, voice or no, amenities or no, and hes never felt so loved

he weeps, and she weeps--from grief and relief and love--and they hold each other close

sheltering under each other

and they have never been more secure in their love

he walked the whole length of the railroad into hell for her, he survived in the pit for her, she scoured the underworld for him, she came for him and she's keeping him

and the return of all these workers startles everyone in central hadestown and a lot of the work gets stalled out

which, of course, draws hades’ attention.

tune in next time for more on this shit ✌️

(pt i) (pt ii) (pt iii) (you are here) (pt iv) (pt. v) (epilogue) (askblog)

#hadestown #hadestown au #hadestown fanart #unswayed au #hadestown musical #my art #my work #look i KNOW the guitar is too small but also I don't care #edit 6/26/19: forgot to include some stuff re: the face-off with Kampe and Promises

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faunusrights · 4 years

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OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 19

IN THIS EPISODE OF MURPHY IS SCREAMING, CONSTANTLY, TRAPPED IN THEIR PERFECT NIGHTMARE:

Glynda was saying: “I know we aren’t friends. I know we aren’t partners. I know you’re a criminal. But—I think I can trust you. I think I have to trust you, even if you’ve done awful things before.”

EVERYTHING GOES WRONG BUT LIKE SOMEHOW WORSE THAN EVER? LIKE A WHOLE NEW BRAND OF LOW. LIKE CINDER’S GOT A PICKAXE AND THE CENTRE OF THE PLANET CALLS FOR AID.

IT’S BEEN A WHILE HUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but dw offal hunt, like the rising of the sun, the arrival of winter, and the eventual downfall of capitalism, always returns. so lets go.

(i just quickly reread chapter 18 liveblog to remember what happened and Ah Yes I Remember Now. The Suppressed Memories)

The place was emptier without Glynda. Quieter.

/gunshot oh we’re in danger right out of the gate huh? we got some yearning right out here? right now? how quickly the turn do tables.

Cinder appraised her work, holding the beige coat up to the light and squinting.

man i forgot. i FORGET. how much i just love cinder in this fic. sometimes she kinda zones to the back of my mind where she sits waiting for me to start thinking about her again, but now i remember that this cinder is Peaque. look at her GO, minding her own BUSINESS. im proud of her. does she know i love her.

It didn’t take long to don her new, fire-proofed clothes.

in another world, in a more comical plot, she used asbestos. it didnt go well.

The subtle warmth of the Dust teased tension from Cinder’s stiff muscles, even as she marvelled at the strangeness of her own bedroom’s space. It seemed bigger now than it had the last two nights.

She chose not to dwell on it.

i choose to dwell on it! ME!!!! I CHOOSE TO DWELL ON IT. HEY CINDER WHAT THIS GAY SHIT. hello. ma’am. can we look deeper into this. i, for one, would like to, and i, for one, think its of value to think abt this. that said, small segue

Quietly, Cinder murmured, “I didn’t freak out.”

THE FACT SHE SAYS IT ALOUD LIKE EM AND MERC CAN HEEEEEEAR HEEEEEEEER i am. INFATUATED with this family. cant wait for the 100k spinoff thats basically an elongated beach episode where they go to like. alton towers. or butlins. six flags??? thats a thing in america right??? anyway. beach episode. call me. (wink wink nudge nudge push push shove shove)

We had to stop back in because Merc left his favorite binder, and it was 2 in the morning, so it was easier to crash here for the night than mess with the ship’s autopilot.

them,,, THEM!!!! mercury is just a son and childe. thast it. he canot change this. i love these kids so much i am SHAKING THE MONITOR RN!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAA

Stuck here in one of the homes they’d shared, Cinder missed them terribly. Missed the sound of their voices and the easy comfort of their presence. Finding the time to contact them had been difficult, between managing Glynda and Hati both, but Glynda was gone, and she’d sent Hati onwards to Atlas. She remembered her call with Emerald, before arriving in Umbraroot; she knew it had not soothed her or her fears.

im sorry was this chapter targeted at me, specifically, as a human being on planet earth? GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS FAMILY!!!!!!!!! THIS WONKY OLD BANDAGED UP FAMILY UNIT!!!!!!!!!!!!! i thrive every time they are mentioned on the page. it is a blessing. my succulents grow stronger each time they show up.

“No,” Cinder argued softly, “I had to. Mercury, you deserve to hear it from me as well. I am sorry. And I am promising you: I’ll come back.”

For a long, heart-wrenching moment, he was completely quiet. It was good that Cinder was alone in the apartment; laying herself bare like this would be unbearable with an audience.

GODDDDDDDDDDD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

i am OBSESSED WITH THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM GOING TO BE THINKING ABOUT THIS UNTIL I D I E. of all thing the remaster does better than og, this is just. SPEEDING AHEAD. this whole CONFLICT this whole MESS just makes everything so much RICHER its like when u splash some wine in yr fancy food or stick some cinnamon on yr favourite desserts u dont NEED TO but it adds that lil SOMETHING,,, that little KICK that just ties the flavour profile together and in this case ofgughugguhu it just GIVES SO MUCH. im making SNOW ANGELS in the WORDS on the PAGE.

“Mercury. If I could prove it to you, I would. But you have to—trust me. For just a while longer.”

“It’s getting harder,” he said. He didn’t sound like he was lying just to hurt her. That wasn’t spite. That was honest anger. And it made her feel like dirt.

im less picking these for specific instances of like, things i want to say, but more just because bits of this r rly just so /chef kiss. cinder has these.... endearingly (take that whichever way u like) human qualities in OG to rly make u realise she had ties to add to her #Doubt but the remaster is just AMPING it up and u FEEL IT and ive never been more SYMPATHETIC to a round-faced sinnamon bun of assholery and fire id DIE for cinder fall and this is a fact PUT IT ON MY GRAVESTONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Is there anything you need?” What was this? Cinder could barely focus on her words. It felt like... “Anything? At all?”

“We’re fine.”

“Mercury, wait please—” She was losing him. “I think—”

“Just hurry up.”

The line went dead.

this place is not a place of honor.................. no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here........................ nothing valued is here................ IM DYING

Cinder began to type out her response, and that was when the nausea really kicked in.

[...]

She recognized this now.

Glynda.

stress stress stress stress STRESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

There shouldn’t be anybody. Cinder had done everything in her power to cut Glynda from people who would interfere. To isolate her. Make it easier to bring her to Atlas, to the frozen north, to her mother and the machine…

Cinder’s esophagus quivered; furiously, she shut her eyes and thought of nothing.

god cinder don’t remind me that you’re an asshole and dipshit and also a moron im trying to be NICE and CARE ABT YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! STOP REMINDING ME YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The front door clicked open.

Cinder couldn’t have said how much time had passed, only that it had passed slowly. What she did know was that it was Glynda returning, the sensation of boils bursting wafting off her soul. It crawled over Cinder’s flesh. She curled in on herself.

There were mites under every nailbed. Salt in her weeping mouth.

offal hunt’s brilliant use of this horror aspect is something i have tried previously to emulate and here’s a fact, take it from me: that shit is HARD. offal hunt consistently able to whack those real nasty, really Disgusting vibes on the head EVERY TIME is a work of art. i mean, kc and diesel do not fuck around, and therefore i am NOT surprised, but it’s only when u try this shit yourself that you realise: this is hard! this is difficult! it’s a huge testament to how GOOD this fic is in every way. also this whole fucking body horror aspect is something i didnt know this fic needed, but it did, and here we are.

Thickly: “Things were going okay. If you hadn’t gotten nasty, I might have smoothed things over. I could have fixed things with my son.”

with my son

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I CANT TAKE IT EVERY TIME ITS TOO MUCH FOR TO BEAR I CANNOT HANDLE IT I CANNOT STAND IT ITS LIKE BEING SHOT JUST DIRECTLY IN MY DICK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

im like sweating rn

Glynda said, “I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

I SAID IM SWEATING

Glynda asked, “Are you lying to me?”

And Cinder said, “What?”

“About me. About Witches. About Ozpin—” Cinder’s guts went sour. “—About anything. I need to know if I can trust you.”

I SAID I! AM! S W E A T I N G

“I know you’ve lied to people. Hurt people.”

Adrenaline and the image of her kids’ faces behind her eyes made a potent, sick cocktail. “—Not. Now.”

so lets like double back to when i said hey was this chapter written to target me specifically and as it turns out, yes. yes it was. yes it was and as MUCH AS I AM LIVING FOR THIS MOMENT THIS SWEET BUILDUP THE EXPLOSION AND THE CRATER IT ALL LEAVES BEHIND

so this next bit is like. i cant really quote one section but as i was saying in Vague DMs, this whole bit feels like wading through mud. usually if you say something consumes energy to Read it’s in a Bad Way when yr bored but this is more like. you Feel cinder all over everything feels so sluggish and it’s like dragging your own corpse around as you try and leave and you’re TIRED and your LEGS HURT and you’re kinda thinking god what if i just fell face down for just a moment of my LIFE.

The putrid weight of Glynda’s soul filled the room until there was no space left for her.

it’s like being trapped in a sauna, like getting stuck in a humid waiting room. where do you GO. what do you DO. god this whole section is fantastic and offal hunt NEVER fails to fucking nail the Vibes but reading it is HARD. i literally keep having to stop and breathe like ive been holding my breath. jesus h christ.

a small intermission for a mood:

“Get fucked.”

back to regularly scheduled hell

Out of the bedroom. Down the hall. The walls were sweating with heat. She tasted smoke.

i love that i just said how i feel like im trapped in a sauna and it turns out: thats because me and cinder both, baybee!!!! hahahaha help

Glynda’s soul chewed her to the marrow. “Move, Glynda.”

cinder being hunted at the start of this fic: teehee! im running away! now im gonna getcha! heehee! arent i clever :) cinder being hunted now: this uh. this blows, actually,

Cinder’s pulse roared in her ears. Her hands twitched. She smelled Ochre Brown’s round face melting off. His wide smile shattered with each of his teeth, going black and popping like corn.

this chapter is probably my favourite so far for this blending of so many elements. i cant even begin to like. THINK STRAIGHT about how all of this is tying together. the lore. the THEMATICS. like i said this character rly is just Rich with what og lacked and oh is it RICH. im gonna read this chapter in future and see so much that i know ive already missed. holy shit.

“Ms. Fall,” she said. “The White Fang requires your presence immediately.”

NOT NOW

Cinder stood there looking at it for a moment. Her thoughts were slow. Copper-tinged. Something small and indulgent whispered to her through the blood-fog.

It was obvious enough what would happen if she got into this car. The driver would take her to a secluded place, where she would be ambushed by a squadron of battle-hungry White Fang grunts.

They’d try to take her down. And she was a killer, wasn’t she? Ochre Brown wailed in her ears with every thump of her runaway heart. Her hands itched for action; her teeth, for blood.

She’d burn them black.

never mind! you are already dead,

She thought about Glynda. About her saying that if there was trouble with the Fang, she wanted to come. That she would fight for Cinder.

She thought of Glynda’s question: What aren’t you telling me about Ochre Brown?

Yeah, fuck that.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A CLIFFHANGER!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A MOMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!! MORE MOMENTOUSLY: WHAT A CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this is EASILY my favourite chapter so far. EASILY. everything about this was peak offal. the relationships. the dynamics. the dialogue. the vibes. the Grossness. the fighting. the EVERYTHING. this is some other level and its BITCHIN. PEAK. that said im now very tired. im going to have a cup of tea and Consider Things for a few hours. brb.

#liveblog #rwby #offal hunt

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delicrieux · 5 years

Text

rubatosis | l.l.

HALLOWEEN WRITING CHALLENGE!🎃 day 2, word(s): cycles of the moon.

pairing: loki x f!reader

fandom: marvel

request: Hi! Can l have a loki imagine please? Reader is one of the strongest beings in the universe and part of the avengers. Soldier background like captain marvel etc and Loki lowkey flirts with him romantically all the time and reader thinks he has an endgame about using her powers so she ggets mad Finally loki snaps and makes wanda look inside his mind to prove he actually loves her? Luv u :) [ @imaginesyes]

warnings: none

words: 1,7k

author’s note: i changed it a bit! also YES i know that im late but tbh lill prolly be late to my own funeral so does it rly matter??? this is from this post and i will try to do all 30 of them!:) four, rubatosis ( the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat ).

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

masterlist | buy me coffee☕

Loki Laufeyson had taken a special interest in you and of course you would find that flattering, though unsettling and suspicious (the latter, more than anything). He would often appear in the same places you frequented, and he would spare no compliment, albeit most of them could be considered more of an insult rather than anything. It was annoying. Though funny. And nice in a sort of I-have-caught-the-gaze-of-a-trickster-god-is-that-even-good? way. He is definitely persistent and terribly charming when he wants to be, but to trust his word would be stupid and so you refrain from entertaining him because really now, you are a realist, and he definitely wants something.

You possess power and not once or twice did a man like Loki try to sweet talk his way into a favour. Normally you would send such a pest flying, though you have your doubts when it comes to Loki. That and he is Thor’s brother, and Thor is not only a friend but also a dear co-worker, and beating up his younger brother would surely break some sort of ethics code. You know Tony probably would not care of Loki’s well-being (might even cheer you on to be completely honest), but as a soldier you have a strict morale code and a tendency to listen to orders, either by contract or otherwise.

But even with all of this in mind you could not quite help being a bit smitten. And the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat made you wonder if he could hear it, too. The answer to that would be no, though you know he knows what he is doing to you. Irritation grew into anger fairly quick.

But to be fair, how does one not resist him? His eyes are the colour of a forest, dark, alluring, though icy, as if covered in snow; and he is most refined and graceful in movement. Not to mention he looks fantastic in a suit. Once, at a work party, he had noticed you lingering about away from the guests, enjoying solitude with a flute of champagne in your hand and a wistful look on your face. He had moved to your side seamlessly and said nothing for a whole minute. There was silence, though it was intimate, as if words were not needed in order to be close. You enjoy his voice, though you appreciate his silence perhaps more. He lies often, that you knew already. Only when his lips are sealed is he truly being genuine.

Alas, he could not help himself, and he leaned in, and you could faintly smell sandalwood and ink, “They are a rowdy bunch, aren’t they?” Strangely there was no malice in his voice; it was soft, amused, though thoughtful. His gaze was strained on Thor and his large glass of ale, telling an animated story to SHIELD agents, a tired-looking Captain America, giddy Nat, and grinning Tony who tried to steal the show quite literally. Loki then glanced at you, awaiting an answer.

“Yeah.” You said simply, “That’s why I like them.”

“But you don’t enjoy attention.” It was a quick observation; he was watching your reaction intently. You turned to him with a smile.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be standing by the door, would I?”

He grinned, “Well…” He drawled, “Perhaps you fancy a different kind of attention. It’s easier to spot you outside the crowd then within it, after all.”

“Looking at me often enough to know, huh?” You raised a brow. He shrugged.

“Why? Have you caught me staring?”

You gave him a look. He seemed awfully pleased with himself.

And then there was a night at Asgard, in the palace, serene and magical in every way. The whole world seemed to be asleep and the chirp of crickets and languid dance of fireflies was what awoke you, or so you mustered when you wandered the dark lonely halls. The air was fresh and warm; it was summer, it was always summer there. You had entered the gardens and even deep into the night the scent of roses was so sweet it was nearly choking. Under the moonlight you had found him. He was wandering, just like you had been.

At first Loki had seemed surprised to see you, though that slight shock had melted into a pleased smile and he had said something slick and you had replied with a roll of your eyes. The two of you fell into step and pebbles crunched under your feet. He was curious and you were alert. You passed statues and fountains, all appearing somehow prettier in the dark. You are not sure when he had started speaking of the moon and it’s cycles, though once he did you glanced upwards and saw it change from new to crescent and so on and so forth and that magnetic light along with his pleasant voice made it all so dreamlike.

Perhaps that was it; that was the night you had realised even if he did have some ulterior motive it didn’t matter because his company is much too valuable. The though made you even more bitter, if anything.

It’s late into the evening and Fall is merciless: cold, windy, rainy. The kitchen is alight with warm light and two cups of tea lay in the table, cooling by the minute. It tastes fruity, you conduct after a careful sip. The playfulness of the drink does not match the mood at all. You frown softly, stare into the depths of your mug and see your reflection in it. You sigh; your shoulders slump. This whole situation is absolutely hopeless.

Wanda, across from you, sits in her pyjamas and wonders how can she help. Seeing you so defeated is heart-breaking – you are one of the strongest people she knows, always ready to support someone both physically and mentally. She wishes she could use her powers – in a fleeting thought she imagined wiping your memory of a pesky, handsome prince, and now her mind, coming up empty of solutions, wanders to that idea again – though she knows you would not appreciate it (if you ever regained your memories, that is). The best she can do is make tea, or coffee, or hot chocolate at the very least and offer her warm embrace as a safe space where you can be loved and cherished and not toyed with.

Wanda would punch Loki. She had realised so when she noticed how conflicted you looked each time you even mentioned him.

“What if I talked to him?” Her voice is rasp, deep – perhaps silence had stretched for far longer than you had imagined. You glance up at her and she gives you a loving smile, “You know…Witch to trickster…”

“I… don’t think that would help much, W.” You mutter into your drink, “But I appreciate the effort. Really. Just… don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with him…Eventually.” You take another sip. “I just…wish I knew what he was thinking. If he’s serious. Or is this…just another ploy.”

She looks at you for a long while, “…What if we knew? What he was thinking. What if I could find out?”

You perk up, “You can do that?”

She smiles, “There are only few things that I can’t.”

It needs time, she explained and you decided to be patient for as long as your nerves allowed you, which to be fair was not that long. It was another gathering, another one of those meetups at Stark Tower that always ended in heated arguments. You held your ground when Loki approached you to wish you a lovely morning – even if it was pouring till noon – and you held your ground when Tony accused you of being on Steve’s side too much. Wanda was nowhere to be found. Unconsciously you searched for her, for any trace of her, and your heart skipped a beat when you felt her familiar warm aura pulse in the air like a heartbeat.

The conference was long and extremely draining. You were boiling on the inside when you entered and anxiety was choking you when you left but there was not even a ripple of this shown on your face. It had stopped raining a while ago. The air is cold and damp and you shiver before you pull your arms closer to your body. You stand outside and take in the scenery, breathe deeper, feel yourself align with nature and calm.

You feel her again behind you, and so you don’t jump when her hand lands on your shoulder in a comforting squeeze.

“…Well?” You ask, your throat dry and voice scratchy.

“I was thorough.” She says and you hear a smile in her voice, “And you know I don’t like him. You know I don’t. But there is no doubt in my heart that he likes you, (Name).” You turn to her, “Though, I’m not sure which is worse. He really liking you or just pretending.” She notes your confused gaze and sighs, “He’s dangerous.”

“We’re all dangerous, W.” You counter. “If we weren’t heroes we’d make for extremely powerful villains.”

“As long as you don’t forget that he was one.” She lets go of your shoulder, “Well, anyway. I met Tony in the hall on my way here. He looked frazzled.”

“Ah,” You nod, “he was being a baby again. Yelling at me for defending Steve.”

“One of these days those two will have a serious fight.”

“Yeah.” You agree. A few drops of cold rain dot your cheek, “Yeah they probably will. Have you seen Loki?”

“He disappeared right after the meeting. Sorry.”

“No, that’s fine. I…I’m not sure what I wanted to say anyway.”

It was past midnight when you left the Stark Tower; most of your time was spent trying to make amends with Iron Man himself, though he was too stubborn to listen. The only thing that kept you from snapping was the occasional glance out the window - the moon was full until it wasn’t, half alight until it was only a sliver. The cycles, they kept changing. Wherever Loki was, he was near enough to make those fantastic illusions.

He cares, you’d think and smile and look at the moon, he really does.

the end. hope you enjoyed!

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valentineblaze · 5 years

Text

Endgame Spoilers

Listen up people I am here to rant.

Tony Stark is effing amazing and I love every second of his gilded trashbag life. But this was just a killer. Dad Tony was everything I wanted and more let me tell ya. I love you 3000 is freaking heartbreaking. I have no issue with his arc in the movie at all even if the end does cause me to break out into back breaking sobs because fuck you. If Tony is going to die by gauntlet then you had better be damn sure everyone he even peripherally gave a damn about is going to make it through this fight. Natasha, Gamora, Loki, and every single Asgardian Tony could remember would have been brought back because that man is the definition of all or nothing.

What I have issues with is the sheer lack of world building we get in this movie. Honestly its the Snap and the only glimpse of this Post apocalyptic world is group Therapy and Remembrance walls. As well as several miscellaneous flashbacks to Hawk-eyes surprise family? That not even comic fans are super attached too because they were literally made up probably for male man pain. Where was the atmosphere? Where was the drama? Where was the angst? Post snap was quite honestly not heart wrenchingly rendered into a suitable level of grief. It just wasn't. I expected break downs and rage. All I got was three seconds of Natasha tears as she has let someone else tracking down her soulbro. And a Tony Stark screaming at Captain America. This movie just told us what was happening didn't show us what was happening. It was piss poor story boarding.

Then there was the character development. Like wow. We get all these new and amazing side characters in which you could have fleshed out and made us root for and you just throw them to the sea like chum. -Captain marvel is just not there at all, she gets a gratuituous girl power scene which was random and then she gets slapped to the ground never to get up? Right after she take a head butt without a single flinch. You can small Thanos's fear right then. -Rocket gets to slap Thor? Thats it thats his most memorable moment other the holding Nebula's hand. -Rhodey has some of the best lines but no development or follow up. -Nebula there is so much happening off screen that it physically hurts me. She is amazing. I adore her. I want a series of her. Nebula is my bitch bea. I found a new hoe to die for and it is she. She is my new ride or die. Found family and redemption arcs come at me. -Sam and Bucky both get maybe two lines a piece and that just irks me.

Time travel... yes bitch I am always there for time travel hijinks and drama but honestly five minutes of a single episode of leverage had more heist feels then this three hour train wreck. It might have been the lack of a great soundtrack but it just wasn't that compelling to watch. I'm also really confused about the time travel thearory in this shit because they kept going back on thier own writing through out the movie (cough cough STEVE cough) I'm a fan of we rewrite the future by affecting the past. Butterfly effect is my Jam. This alternate reality thing is fun yes but it can't really be that because they may create alternate realities okay? then if there was the need for pym particals for time travel to occur how did Thanos's big ass army get enough to travel through time to the future? Because the avengers were out or at least low regardless of Steve's thievery and Nebula only had the one from my understanding. Also if changing the reality makes a new reality how the fuck was Steve in this reality.

Bruce , Bruce, Bruce. My beautiful green rage monster and yoga doctorate what have they done to you. What is going on. Why are you so cheerful. Why are you at peace. I hate to say it but go back. Why are we still doing this Nat/Bruce ship? It is so random. I just can't see it. Fandom can trick me into it for a few chapters but not forever. Ya'll should have taken a hint from Ragnorok give me that personality and it would have been a win. Shock and dismay was my only emotions when it came to this mess.

My constant rage with this series is pick up an effin comic book. Sit down watch a cartoon. If anyone is going to become a human disaster post Snap its going to be effin Hawkeye. Like yay Ronin cool but what the actual fuck. Why did you come at me like that? Hawkeye is not your edgy overlord. He probably would have died ages ago with out the female influences in his life. He has regular dates with dumpsters. I'm sure he even has a ranking system for prefered dumpsters to end up in after a beat down. Yes he is startlingly competent but even he doesn't know how he does it half the time. He eats food off the floor and thinks expiration dates are guidelines.

Thor was a new one. They threw me for a loop. One this man needs a hug. Two, why is no one hugging him? His rampant depression and weight gain shouldn't have been the butt of jokes. There should have been some honest concern and meaningful conversations with the living not the dead. Thor never doubted his mother's love. That was never up for debate. Thor is not to blame for the snap. Thor will give no fucks if he messes up the timeline if it means his family is alive and together. Especially post Ragnarok. Also I could have sworn Thanos killed every asguardian on his ship at the beginning of infinity war? How is Valkyrie alive? Why would Thor decide to go to space?

I’m not even gonna touch on the Black Widow for this one. I’m just not gonna go there. Blind rage doesn’t even cover it.

Howard Stark. Wow just wow I thought I was having some weird ass delusion. That man is scum. Comic canon scum. One of the smartest men on the planet yes, revolutionary war hero technically yes, great father and overall good human being? Hell to the no. Tony literally named his A.I. after Jarvis, cried over the death of J.A.R.V.I.S, I would have expected a quiet chat about fatherhood and marriage and how it can make the best out of any man (he hopes) before I got a conversation with dear old dad.

Why can’t Tony and Steve have one friendly conversation? A sense of camaraderie? Anything? Why is that so hard?

Steve "fight me" Rogers what has MCU done to you? I'm supposed to believe that you would have left Bucky Barnes to Hydra's hands for over 70 years. Im supposed to believe that you would have been in the past and had no interactions with Howard Stark. Im supposed to believe that the you married the Director of Shield and you didn't wax poetry about the amazing woman that diegned to marry you every damn day of your life? This woman on her deathbed told you she lived a long and fulfilled life and that you should move on to have the same happiness as she and you did what? That he wouldn't have dismantled every last bit of Hydra. That he would just let Natasha and Tony die because of that shitty delusional grape? The disrespect STEVEN the disRESPECT! I am a Stony stan for sure but hell if I don't respect Peggy Carter. So yay steve gets his happy cis gendered ending but what about the rest of em?

#i will spend the next week editing this #endgame #spoilers #i hate it #i really really hate it.#mcu #endgame spoilers #my rage doesn't hit civil war or ultron levels mostly because i'm just tired but #seething is accurate

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ktrsss1fics · 7 years

Text

Cheeseburger in Paradise: Two.

She had seven missed calls.

Two were from her mother and the rest were from him.

From the time she turned off her phone on a plane in Los Angeles to the time she turned it back on in a town car in Aruba, Niall Horan had called her five times.

Georgina Ferguson couldn’t believe it.

Before they left, they made a plan. One person would leave their phone off to use as a back up just in case. Brittany’s phone had died just before their connecting flight so it was up Georgina to keep them safe. She scanned through the text messages that had accumulated while she was in the air in search of the address of the house they were going to be staying at. Niall had ordered the girls a car so they didn’t have to worry about relying on strangers in a foreign country. Georgina had seen too many abduction films and knew she needed to have an exit plan just in case. She typed the address into Google Maps and turned on the Find My Friend application. If something went wrong at least someone (mainly her mother and Dave) would know where they were.

As Brittany made small talk with the Australian driver, three notifications popped on her phone. Two voice mails and a follow request from Find My Friend.

Niall had called her five times. Niall had left her two voice mails. Niall had requested to follow her - just in case.

Brittany’s comments from the plane swirled around her head. Niall liked her. She didn’t want to believe it. He was just some annoying boy who knew how to push her buttons. He laughed too much and cared too much and spent too much time trying to get her attention.

Maybe Brittany was right.

Maybe he did like her. She was just too stubborn to see it.

Georgina placed her phone to her ear and was instantly met by an Irish accent. The first message was wishing them a safe flight. The second was checking in and updating them on what everyone was up to.

“Who was that?” Brittany asked as Georgina hung up the phone.

“Messages from Horan.” Georgina said looking out the window before going back to her phone.

“What’d he say?” Her friend asked.

“Dave’s phone died so we need to call Horan if we need anything. Everyone is just drinking by the pool.” Georgina said in a low tone. “He wants us to go through the side gate when we get there.”

Brittany nodded. “What was the other one?”

“Wishing us a safe flight and reminding us about the car and the address n all that.” Georgina said checking their surroundings.

“That’s considerate. Isn’t it?” Brittany smirked.

“Extremely.” Georgina replied dryly.

“I’m calling it.” Brittany smiled. “You’re going to like him by the end of this trip.”

“You’re delusional.” Georgina mumbled.

“Could say the same about you.” Brittany teased.

“You are just as bad as my mother.” Georgina grumbled as a nice neighborhood came into view.

“I’m just saying G.” Her friend smiled.

“I’m gonna write that on your tombstone.” Georgina shook her head.

“Yours is gonna say–” Brittany started to say until she noticed the house they had stopped in front of.

It was something out of a travel brochure. A tall iron fence with intricate embellishments stood around a massive multistory house.

“He spent way too much on this.” Brittany said in awe.

“What do you mean?” Georgina asked sliding some money over the front seat to the driver.

“He said he’d take care of it all but this is just too much.” Brittany said getting out of the car.

“No one else is paying for this?” Georgina said surprised.

Brittany shook her head as she grabbed her suitcase. “That I know of.”

“That’s not fair.” Georgina said. “I mean I know he has the money for it but like he shouldn’t have to pay for it by himself.”

“Are you sympathizing with Niall Horan?” Brittany teased.

“Oh stop.” Georgina said grabbing the rest of their things from the car.

“He’s not that bad of a guy you know.” Brittany said.

“If you keep this up, I’m ignoring you for the rest of the trip.” Georgina said.

“Just give ‘im a chance.” Britt said as Georgina shot her a dirty look.“Last one.”

The two women gathered their belongings and headed for the gate. Some overly played dance song was blasting from the backyard letting them know they are in the right place. Georgina punched in the code to unlock the gate.

As the two women stepped foot on the property, Georgina’s stomach filled with butterflies. She knew why it was happening but she didn’t want to believe it. Niall Horan didn’t have feelings for her. She was sure it. This was just Brittany’s way to get her to cooperate. This was just a ploy to create a drama-free environment for the two weeks they were away.

At least that’s how it seemed.

They rounded the corner of the house to find a full fledged diving competition taking place in the pool. Drinks were being shared by the bar. One couple was using a lounge chair as a very public make out spot.The one person she didn’t want to see stood out in a pair of bright yellow swim trunks.

She was screwed.

Brittany made her way to her boyfriend who was acting as a bartender. Georgina left her luggage by the house before taking a minute to collect herself.

She could do this. Right?

Without a second thought, she headed towards her friends. Greetings were briefly shared with everyone around the bar.

She watched as Niall got out of line for the diving board and headed towards her. A few curse words were mumbled under her breath causing her best friend to laugh. Georgina looked up to find Brittany watching her.

“Remember what I said G.” She whispered. “Be nice just for the trip.”

Georgina attempted to think of a snarky comeback but the most popular member of their group had appeared and was hugging her best friend.

The sound of the excitement in his voice made her body tense up. She didn’t understand how someone could be that happy all the time.

Before she could she critique his every move, a pair of blue eyes was staring back at her. She put a fake smile on her face and got ready for to play a part.

“Fergie.” Niall smiled pulling her into a hug.

“Hey Niall.” Georgina responded as nicely as she could.

The young man stepped back and studied her face closely.

“What?” Georgina asked confused.

“Y'alright?” Niall asked scanning her features.

“Yeah why?” She asked still not understanding what he was doing.

“You called me by my first name.” Niall explained. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t sick or anything.”

Georgina rolled her eyes trying to fight a blush from forming. “You’re so annoying.”

His signature laugh filled the space between them.

“So what’s that about?” She asked nodding to the line at the pool.

“Jamie said he was better than Tom Daley.” Niall said.

Georgina couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “He’s such a twat.”

“Right?” He said with a laugh. “We thought it’d be a fun competition.”

“Who’s winnin’?” She asked somewhat interested.

“Surprisingly Mags is.” He said nodding to a girl in a red bikini.

“She used to be a ballerina.” She said. “That makes sense.”

“She did?” He said smoothing over his wet hair.

“We’ve discussed this before you goof.” She said trying to be playful.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember every conversation we have.” He sassed.

“You remember my order at In N Out but you don’t remember our friends childhood hobbies.” She shook her head. “Tsk tsk Horan. Shame on you.”

Niall’s lips turned up into a big smile. “Let’s go get you settled brat.”

“So we had a bit of an issue yesterday when we got here.” He said once they got inside.

“What happened?” Georgina asked.

“I had sort of planned out where everyone was gonna stay but uh the couples ganged up on us and took the entire second floor.” He explained running a hand through his hair nervously. “It’s kind of a mess and now we are stuck down here. Just because we aren’t part of a pair doesn’t mean our opinion is invalid.”

“So you mean to tell me that you are paying for this monstrosity of a house by yourself and those drunks out there told you where you are going to be sleeping.” Georgina marveled at the thought.

Niall sighed. “She told you?”

“Yes but we’ll get to that in a second.” Georgina said. “You’re too nice to them Ni. You should have gotten first pick and then they could have fought for whatever was left.”

“I know I know. It’s just they are all so used to getting what they want and I already made them wait to come on this trip so I just let them.” He said sounding insecure.

His eyes fell to the floor realizing he might have said too much.

“They are kind of bullies.” Georgina said trying to lighten the mood. “Like that night when we went to Santa Monica and they said they got to take the first Uber home because they didn’t want to be split up but like you were gonna puke and Ash was nearly dead so you deserved the first one.”

“That was bullshit. It was a short ride to Keith’s place and they couldn’t be apart for what was it.. ten minutes?” He shook his head. “Absolute bull shit.”

“So what did they leave us poor singles with?” Georgina asked with a smile.

“Well uh two rooms on each side of the first floor. One shares a bathroom with Keith and the other shares a bathroom with me.” He said quietly.

Georgina was quiet.

“If I’m honest, Keith should have been left at home. He is being a real creep and talking about all the women he’s going to bring back.” Niall went on to explain. “So I wouldn’t choose that one. I mean if you want, I can switch to that room and you can keep the two over here.”

“Stop being a people pleaser Horan.” She said.

“I just want everyone to enjoy themselves and I’m worried they won’t.” Niall admitted shyly. “If me changing rooms will help, I’ll do it.”

“Keep your room. I get to take showers first. Got it?” She smirked grabbing her luggage and walking past him.

Niall stood still for a moment. He wasn’t used to this side of her. She was usually a little standoffish and cold. But here she was joking around with him.

He couldn’t believe it.

“So which one is mine?” Georgina asked pulling him back to reality.

“Uh the one on the left.” He said nodding towards the door in front of her.

“How much do I owe you?” She asked stepping inside the room.

“Fergie…” Niall started to say but she cut him off.

“Unlike the rest of their friends, I wasn’t raised to be disrespectful.” She said quietly. “I can’t let you pay for this entire trip by yourself.”

Niall watched her closely as she spoke - his eyes full of admiration.

“How much can I chip in?” She asked.

“I appreciate the offer.” He said sincerely. “But-”

“No buts. I’m gonna pay for something. Whether it��s part of the rental fee or for groceries or for drinks when we go out.” She said stubbornly. “We all have well paying jobs there is no excuse for them to think just because you are who you are that they deserve to get off without paying a dime.”

Niall cheeks turned rosy as the woman in front of him continued to rant about their friends. He had never seen her this passionate about anything. Not only was it slightly attractive, it was also really nice to see someone care about him.

Money wasn’t an issue. If he wanted to rent a mansion in a foreign country for a week, he could. But the fact that she was concerned about him spending too much meant something.

“You know what Fergie?” He said softly.

“Hmm?” She mumbled glancing up at him.

“I’m glad that you’re in my life.” He stated sincerely.

“Why’s that?” She asked placing her suitcase on the bed.

He shrugged, “You actually give a shit.”

She didn’t know how to respond. He took the moment to explain.

“I know I can come off a little strong sometimes and I can be a bit persistent with things but like out of everyone you give it to me straight.” Niall said trying not to show how he actually felt. “There is no bull shit with you. If I’m being a twat, you let me know. If I’m being too clingy, you let me know. If I’m being too much, you let me have it.”

Heat danced across her body as his words floated around her. This was not happening. Niall Horan wasn’t admitting how much he appreciated having her in his life. This wasn’t real life. She was still asleep on the plane and this was all a dream.

“I uh just wanted to let you know I appreciate it.” He smiled.

Georgina still didn’t know how to respond so she resorted to what she did best.

“You kind of forced yourself into my life so I’ve had to learn to adapt.” She teased making him smile even more.

“That’s how I make all my friends.” He joked. “Just annoy the shit out of them until they get use to me.”

“Sounds about right.” She laughed.

“Want me to give you a minute to like relax?” He asked trying not to over stay his welcome.

Georgina shook her head. “I’m good. We can go back with the others if you want.”

Niall headed towards the door. “Want a tour?”

“I’m only allowed on the first floor so I don’t need to see the rest.” She said following behind him.

“One day we’ll get the credentials to make it up there.” He assured her.

“Or we could just find more single friends.” She suggested.

“You do have a point.” He nodded.

“Why aren’t you as drunk as the others?” She asked as they stepped outside.

“Didn’t want to risk something happening to you and Britt and having no one to come help.” He admitted shyly. “She didn’t call me when she said she would so I got a little worried.”

“She almost made us miss our bloody connecting flight.” Georgina complained.

“How?” He asked trying not to laugh.

“Her phone charger was in her checked bag and her phone died so she wanted to buy a portable one at one of those shops.” Georgina explained. “The queue was outside the shop and she still wanted to buy it.”

“Is that why she didn’t call?” He asked looking over at their friend.

Georgina nodded as she watched Brittany dance along to the song that was playing.

“Sorry I called so much.” Niall said slightly embarrassed. “She told me she’d call in between flights and she wasn’t answering so I was hoping you’d pick up instead.”

“S'fine. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up.” Georgina apologized. “We decided to keep one phone off so we wouldn’t end up having two dead phones.”

“Smart idea.” He said glancing back at her.

“Well now that we are safely here do you wanna get something to drink?” Georgina asked keeping her eyes off the boy beside her.

“There are plenty of beers in the fridge.” He said turning towards her. “And they made some tropical juice thing with rum if you want that instead.”

Georgina scrunched up here nose trying to make up her mind. Niall found it cute.

“Or there’s water.” He added trying to help.

“Water’s for fish Horan.” Georgina joked. “Bring me something that’ll get me drunk.”

With that, Niall laughed his way to the bar to make her something to drink.

#one direction fan fiction #1dff #cip #fergie and niall #cheeseburger in paradise #niall horan fanfiction

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while-my-tardis-gently-weeps · 7 years

Text

Eurovision 2017: Initial Thoughts (3/13)

Now that the songs for all the participating countries are announced, here are my initial impressions of each piece. The stand-out entries (so far) are in in bold, and the ones in italics are ones I’m keeping my eyes on in the coming weeks but didn’t quite make the mark.

In alphabetical order:

ALBANIA - Lindita “World” - On first listen, I liked it, but it didn’t really leave a lasting impression on me. Above average Eurovision ballad, but nothing more.

ARMENIA - Artsvik “Fly With Me” - Okay song, forgettable.

AUSTRALIA - Isaiah Firebrace “Don’t come easy” - Australia brings it again! 3 for 3 from down under since they joined Eurovision. Only heard the music video version though so I’m curious how he will do in live performance. It definitely didn’t impress me nearly as much as Dami Im’s did last year, but I was sold on her live performance last year, not the recorded version.

AUSTRIA - Nathan Trent “Running on air” - Thoroughly average pop ballad with good energy and beat, but it’s been growing on me. A LOT. I blame it on the gorgeous Austrian mountain backdrop in the music video. Austria should definitely keep that up in the live staging if they know what’s good for them. I can’t be the only one sold on the scenery porn.

AZERBAIJAN - DiHaj “Skeletons” - Good, but didn’t make much of an impact on me. Withholding further commentary until I listen to it more.

BELARUS - NaviBand “Historyja Majho Zyccia” - A charming little piece, bonus points for not singing in English. I don’t see it winning Eurovision, but it’s absolutely delightful to listen to.

BELGIUM - Blanche “City lights” - Love it! Though not as much as a lot of other people seem to. It’s unique and ethereal and showcases her voice very well, but it’s a bit one-tone and kind of resembles dozens of other songs in the same style. Not to mention that it will fit right in among the Skins soundtrack. That said, I see it doing very well and it’ll be a much-welcomed breath of fresh air after listening to generic eurovision ballad after generic eurovision ballad.

BULGARIA - Kristian Kostov “Beautiful mess” - A lot better than I expected, but to be entirely honest my expectations were very low going in. It will depend on his live performance I expect.

CROATIA - Jacques Houdek “My friend” - Nice, but boring.

CYPRUS - Hovig “Gravity” - Powerful, energetic song that can do extremely well with the right staging, (like Russia 2016 or Sweden 2015, though this one is definitely more along the veins of the former rather than later. That might be my fondness for Mans talking though).

CZECH REPUBLIC - Martina Bárta “My turn” - Um, no. Not feeling it at all. I don’t know if anything can fix this one.

DENMARK - Anja “Where I Am” - I like her voice, I like her performance, I like everything except this boring snoozefest of a song. There are those ballads of yesteryear that were propelled to high rankings by a phenomenal performance, but this one is just too average for that to happen. It might carry her past the semis on a good night but I won’t hold my breath for anything more than that.

ESTONIA - Koit Toome & Laura “Verona” - Sounds a bit retro, but not in a bad way. Laura’s facial expression during the chorus bothers me a bit though.

FINLAND - Norma John “Blackbird” - I love Finland for always taking a risk. Doesn’t always work but I appreciate the effort even if the song crashes and burns spectacularly. Wonderfully dark and definitely something I would listen to normally but I’m not sure if it will keep my attention sufficiently enough during a lengthy (Semi-)final.

FRANCE - Alma “Requiem” - One of my personal favs this year. Fell in love with the tune from the start. Would I had preferred it if they stuck with the original version? Hell yes. Do I think version with English added is as horrendous as everybody says, not really but everything will depend on the live performance I think. I’m 100% behind another song but I’ll be hoping and praying that she does well in the final.

GEORGIA - Tako Gachechiladze “Keep the faith” - This song annoys me greatly.

GERMANY - Levina “Perfect life” - I have to stop forgiving otherwise-generic pop tunes for having lyrics that tick my fancy despite everything. That said, it could have been worse.

GREECE - Demy “This is love” - Good but a bit too generic.

HUNGARY - Joci Pápai “Origo” - Not exactly my cup of tea at first listen, but it’s rapidly growing on me, to the point that it’s squeezing past other entries to be one of my favs before I knew it. Can do without the rap; it’s extremely jarring. That chorus though. SUPERB.

ICELAND - Svala “Paper” - I quite like it, but don’t exactly love it (yet?). Need to give it a few more listens but I can see it growing on me a lot more in the coming weeks.

IRELAND - Brendan Murray “Dying to try” - It’s growing on me. Mostly because of his voice. The song itself is a bit forgettable but not so disastrously average that it can’t be salvaged by a live performance that knocks it out of the park. But even so the left side of the final voting table might be a bit of a stretch.

ISRAEL - Imri Ziv “I feel alive” - It’s okay but doesn’t stay in your memory for long.

ITALY - Francesco Gabbani “Occidentali’s Karma” - Remember what I said about being 100% behind one song? WELL THIS IS IT! I was already sold by the joyous, fun, and all-around spectacular performance at San Remo, but then I read the lyrics. AND I AM BLOWN AWAY. This man is a genius. This is Italian pop at its very best even without understanding the lyrics, complete with a staging that can do very well in Kyiv. But with the lyrics? Such a clever critique of Western appropriation and commercialization of Eastern philosophies disguised as a perfect explosion of effervescent joy. My only worries: he needs to do some major cutting to make it fit within the time limit, and there won’t be a live orchestra in Kyiv for the “ale!” moment with raised bows, so I’m crossing my fingers that everything will come together perfectly even with these restraints, and that there will be improvements in the staging that help carry the messages in the lyrics across to a non-Italian-speaking audience. (and the length of this alone is a testament of how much more I love this one above all other entries. Italy2018 please!)

LATVIA - Triana Park “Line” - Latvia’s been on a roll since Aminata! It’s not quite on the level of the last two years imho, but great song nonetheless.

LITHUANIA - Fusedmarc “Rain of revolution” - ...Aaaaaand right from my most favorite to least. No. Just, no.

MACEDONIA - Jana Burčeska “Dance alone” - I won’t cringe if it comes on while I’m partying at a club, but I won’t love the DJ for putting it on either.

MALTA - Claudia Faniello “Breathlessly” - Another boring ballad stuck in the dead zone between “not bad” and “not great.”

MOLDOVA - SunStroke Project “Hey, Mamma!” - Oh this is fun! I can dance to this one. Not masterpiece material but it doesn’t aspire to be one either. It brings the party, and that’s all it needs to do for a job well-done, I’d say.

MONTENEGRO - Slavko Kalezić “Space” - I would rather spend the time staring into blank space. No thanks.

THE NETHERLANDS - OG3NE “Lights and shadows” - Like Estonia’s entry, this one is also a bit retro, with a dash of Glee thrown in as well. I know I definitely want them to qualify, and probably even end up on the left side of the chart during the finals, but something about the song just doesn’t quite do it for me.

NORWAY - JOWST “Grab the moment” - It’s growing on me. A lot of Norway’s songs tend to be growers for me. I don’t think it will quite get there though.

POLAND - Kasia Moś “Flashlight” - This can either be a dark horse or a disaster depending on how she performs live and the staging. I fell in love with the music video version but the live version from the national final left me a bit flat. We’ll wait and see I suppose.

PORTUGAL - Salvador Sobral “Amar Pelos Dois” - Marvellously quaint, reminiscent of one’s best dreams under the Mediterranean sky, best enjoyed with headphones and your eyes closed...WAIT. “Your eyes closed?” Yeah, that’s my main worry with this song. Someone please get that boy a good stylist so that he doesn’t look like a library-dwelling classics major pulled on-stage last minute after a week of all-nighters. And add some better staging too. But, yeah, best wishes for a top-five finish Portugal!

ROMANIA - Ilinca feat. Alex Florea “Yodel it!” - I am reminded of how much I came to love “My Slowanie” from Poland. It never pretends to be anything deep or profound, but Ilinca just sells it so well.

RUSSIA - Yulia Samoylova “Flame is burning” - Funny that Russia chose a song with this title... Politics and transparent appeal for sympathy points to counteract booing and flaming aside, it’s an okay song and she’s not necessarily a bad singer, but by GOD if you can’t even fake passable English by hiring any half-way decent diction coach then stick to Russian!

SAN MARINO - Valentina Monetta & Jimmie Wilson “Spirit of the night” - It’s fine, I guess. Just heard it again in the last hour but already forgot how it went.

SERBIA - Tijana Bogićević “In too deep” - See last comment.

SLOVENIA - Omar Naber “On my way” - *Facepalm*. Enough said.

SPAIN - Manel Navarro “Do it for your lover” - Makes the last one I commented on sound decent, if not good, by comparison.

SWEDEN - Robin Bengtsson “I can’t go on” - What happened Sweden? You’ve been going downhill since Mans in 2015. I always want to vote for Sweden because they host it so well but this definitely sound like they are trying their hardest to avoid Sweden2018. Not even my everlasting love for Petra (+Mans) as the host will make this less cringeworthy.

SWITZERLAND - Timebelle “Apollo” - I quite like it. Despite myself. The red dress she wore during live performance certainly doesn’t hurt.

UKRAINE - O.Torvald “Time” - Definitely refreshing, and mad points to Ukraine for the second entry in a row that’s different from the Eurovision norm, but this isn’t exactly good rock is it?

UNITED KINGDOM - Lucie Jones “Never give up on you” - Good showing for UK. In general? Not so much. Kind of like Denmark this year, really, with a combination of good vocalist and subpar song, but this song is a step (or two. or three) down from Denmark’s.

Top 3 Picks:

Italy - “Occidentali’s Karma,” Francesco Gabbani

France - “Requiem,” Alma

Portugal - “Amar Pelos Dois,” Salvador Sobral

(I’m noticing a theme for my top picks...)

#you have been warned: there will be an explosion of eurovision posts from here out #personal opinions #eurovision 2017

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nevermoorcentral · 3 years

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How many fandoms are you in? You have so many different sources for your quotes and it seems like a lot of different shows and stuff. honestly impressed you can remember all those quotes.

You think i have memory? hahahahahahaha.

Most of the time, the way I get quotes is I just copy and paste from another incorrect quotes blog, and if they have a source on it, I’ll use that. (quite often I don’t have the first clue what that source is) Sometimes when I’m reading a book, I do mark something that I think would work for Nevermoor characters, but other than that it’s usually just that I saw someone else use it and thought that that would be great for Nevermoor. Thanks for the ask!

#ask #anon #im not really in that many fandoms #a couple of netflix shows like tua #actually thats kind of the only one #s&b too ig #a couple movies like tog #(that was veryveryvery good if anyones wondering)#and then marvel takes up a bit of space (but if were being honest im fully there for sambucky and little else)#so were left with.... a lot of books

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kaminosoath · 7 years

Text

STATIK: =With Sirius GONE without so much as a warning notice (and along with her their mother and Ananya), Statik was a bit...agitated at about half her family. She understood the need, of course, but it didn't make it any less frustrating that they LEFT WITHOUT HER???=

STATIK: =Going on five minutes now, she had been pacing about the tech lab, feeling a little antsy and restless. She had to get out, and so she left, making a beeline straight for one block, even though she wasn't entirely aware she was headed there.=

STATIK: =When she crossed their door, she wet her lower lip, a little daunted. She'd been a bit...well...her usual ass of a self lately and didn't want to crowd them so soon after she'd made a scene... But in her opinion there had been sufficent time between then and now and she felt like she had given appropriate space? Even so, she missed them, and they were going to know it. There's a familiar knockin on Simula's door, always in some kind of musical rhythm to spice things up.=

SIMULA: -ah yes, the tell tale signs of statik's arrival. they'd been curled up on their bed for a while, drifting in and out of a nap. having company brought about some conflicting feelings, moreso than usual. caught between that need for attention and the ever growing fear that something is going to go awry. ultimately, they give in to the former desire, and opens the door from where they're lying. they only move to sit up, glancing over at her.-

SIMULA: Hell-o. Come in. Not that you need an invitation.

STATIK: hey hey simCard ⚡ =She notices that recently-awake expression and raises her brows, but accepts the invitation into their room= i didnt interrupt your beauty sleep did i? ⚡

SIMULA: -musses with their own hair, shrugging a shoulder. they might not be the most emotive person usually, but they definitely seem extra lethargic.- You could hard-ly consider it that, if II look as shit-ty as II feel.

STATIK: =she threw an arm over one of their shoulders and pulled them into a side hug= STATIK: this is only a small speed bump. youll be beautiful again, no worries ⚡ KD

STATIK: =that is she tried throwing and arm over their shoulders.=

STATIK: =She tried, she probably only could reach one of them properly, then ended up just crossing and arm over their back.=

STATIK: =even as she jokes, her expression does flicker into a worried one=

STATIK: you looK as exhausted a deer being traCKed by an enduranCe hunter ⚡

SIMULA: -rubs at their eyes now, accepting the little scraps of affection.- It's noth-ing. II just made the mis-take of leav-ing my room again to-day.

STATIK: K(

STATIK: do i need to KiCK someones ass? ⚡

STATIK: ...

STATIK: do i need to KiCK my own ass? ⚡

SIMULA: ... No.

SIMULA: Some-thing stu-pid hap-pened. -huffs a small sigh-

SIMULA: II was hang-ing out with Dell in the cafeteria. Emilet was there. Silliness en-sued, basically. But it escalated and Dell got irrationally frustrated and-- Chucked his tri-dent at Emilet.

SIMULA: II on-ly bare-ly stopped it.

SIMULA: May-be he deserves an ass kick-ing. But II will be frank, II'm get-ting a bit tired of acts of physical violence.

STATIK: K\ oh my god... ⚡

STATIK: it Keeps HAPPENING ⚡⚡

STATIK: youre the Captain's kid! file a Complaint! start a petition! ⚡

STATIK: ill even sign it for you! ⚡

SIMULA: -scoffs- What, like an an-ti-bullying pact?

SIMULA: There's noth-ing II can do to stop peo-ple from be-ing impulsive idiots.

STATIK: =scoffs right back= NOT WITH THAT ATTITUDE! ⚡⚡

STATIK: when there are meetings in alternia's judiCiary, the league has to leave their weapons at the door and wear suppression Collars that are aCtivated during any signs of aggression. it was to avoid wrongful death. that was a problem for a while until it was solved! ⚡ CK

SIMULA: -looks.... reasonably horrified by this.- Eugh.

SIMULA: As aw-ful as Alternian cus-toms are, II sup-pose you're mak-ing a good point.

SIMULA: ... -long suffering sigh- II could al-ways talk to my fath-er, at least.

STATIK: =She didn't see anyone piledrive someone to death herself, she just HEARD things. And had a near-death experience that sent her straight back to the UU but that was a different thing entirely=

STATIK: of Course i am! ⚡⚡ OK

STATIK: =She pulled them into a tight hug, and her voice dropped a little softer,= what happened, it really bothered you, didn't it? ⚡ :C

SIMULA: ... -leans into her hug, nodding a little, unable to vocalize it.-

STATIK: it suCKs a lot to have someone you Care about be in danger ⚡

SIMULA: -glances at her, supposing she must know, if the way she's continually reacted to the finncident was any indication.- ... Yes. It does. -nonchalantly nuzzles at her shoulder a little.-

STATIK: then say something, sim! ⚡

STATIK: and if people don't listen, Keep saying something until they do ⚡

SIMULA: -quiets until she feels a little bit of wetness on her shoulder.- It feels... point-less.

STATIK: =she broke from the hug, and dipped her head, trying to look up at them=

STATIK: why?? ⚡⚡

SIMULA: -averts their gaze , but they can't hide the tears swelling in their mismatched eyes.- II made my bed a long time a-go.

SIMULA: II could keep try-ing, but why would anyone lis-ten to me? II don't de-serve the time of day.

SIMULA: II push-ed everyone a-way. That's what II want-ed. And now II'm-- -they can't believe they're letting themself break down like this, but everything hurt so badly, worse then the headache and the sparks erupting from the emotion, they couldn't hold it in anymore.-

SIMULA: II feel so a-lone.

SIMULA: Some-times II feel like you're the on-ly one who actually gives a fuck when it comes down to it.

SIMULA: Everyone is so fuck-ing con-tent to turn the oth-er cheek to-wards actual physical harm again-st me.

SIMULA: But II earned that, didn't II. This is what II get for be-ing such an ass-hole all the time.

STATIK: =she started off squinting at them, but the more they cry, the more her own tears begin to well up.=

STATIK: dont say that its not too late! i Can say for an absolute faCt that satomi and siri Care... ⚡

STATIK: but siri liKes everybody, so she doesnt Count ⚡

STATIK: looK looK looK ⚡

STATIK: =She sniffed as she squinted and placed each hand on their shoulders.=

STATIK: you didnt earn shit, and everyone else who is being an asshole about this doesnt Know a single thing about you ⚡

STATIK: they dont Care beCause its EASIER turning the other CheeK ⚡

STATIK: its easier for them thinKing theyre so freaKing PERFECT and trying to single you out beCause youre more honest about it that you arent ⚡

STATIK: they Cant grasp the ConCept theyre not as high and mighty as they maKe themselves out to be ⚡

STATIK: =her words are getting a bit snappish and angrier=

STATIK: and you Know what? they're fuCKing hypoCritiC COWARDS beCause of it! ⚡⚡

STATIK: theyre small and insignifiCant and they Cant stand it so theyre trying to maKe YOU feel that way! their tiny minds have tiny Cruel little thoughts and they arent worth shit! ⚡

STATIK: =she put a hand up to their face= youre worth way more than all of them together ⚡

SIMULA: -there's more to be conflicted about after hearing this. whether they should listen and let themself be comforted. whether it's true, whether it even matters if it's true or not. statik cared. statik saw them as something great, and not just despite the ugliness, but because of it too. they effectively lost the battle trying to keep her at bay along with everyone else. and... they're fine with that.-

SIMULA: You know... -sniffs, tentatively reaching to touch her face too. almost hesitant.- You real-ly are such an an-gry lit-tle per-son.

SIMULA: II think you give me too much cred-it. But II won't ar-gue eith-er.

SIMULA: ... Thank you, Stat-ik. For... be-ing here.

STATIK: im angry beCause all this pisses me off!! ⚡ KO

STATIK: but i wont deny im little ⚡

STATIK: =she leans into their touch, and laughs a slightly soggy laugh= and if i give you too muCh Credit, it's Cause you give yourself none ⚡

STATIK: im always gonna be here, sim. ⚡

STATIK: ...im sorry i stayed away ⚡

SIMULA: That doesn't mat-ter now. -insists, fidgeting a little before leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead.-

STATIK: =her face is turning a marvelous shade of GREEN, but not because she's sick. Statik doesn't move, because she's not sure how to take all these butterflies slamming themselves into the walls of her abdomen. Does she DARE?? Gradually though, she moved the hand she had on their face and lightly kissed the area where her touch had been.=

SIMULA: -a noise rumbles out of them like a purr -- a good indication that this is a good direction to head in. their head dips as they lean in, cheeks brushing, till they're simplying draping themself over her in another hug.-

STATIK: =Relief washed over her and she patted their face before pulling them closer in her arms, crossing her limbs over their back.=

STATIK: i wont do that to you again, oKay? i'm here for you. i'll always be here for you. ⚡

STATIK: =squeezes=

SIMULA: Then... you should stay here. Un-til II let you leave. -mumbles into her shoulder. this is what happens, statik. you give them an inch and they take a mile.-

STATIK: =There is a smile to her voice and she leaned her cheek against theirs.=

STATIK: there was only ever one option, i thinK ⚡

SIMULA: -they purr softly again, leaning heavily against her until they're both flopping back onto the bed. it's snuggle time...-

STATIK: =With Simula in her arms and she in theirs, it finally felt right. She nuzzled against them, purring herself.=

#xenogeneicersatz #in which moirails

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