#so the dentist kind of had to go ham with it

[heyclickadee]

You know, in retrospect, chicken chile with jalapeños and another soup that has green salsa in the ingredients were probably not the best things to make and eat right after getting a crown implant. (Maybe failed my wisdom saving throw on that one. Actually, are wisdom saving throws a thing in D&D? I’ve only ever actually played once.)

#my teeth are fine #but I don’t really react to local anesthetic #so the dentist kind of had to go ham with it #and my gums were bruised to hell #and between going a little bit overboard with saline rinse and mouthwash #to make sure nothing got infected #and then thinking ‘oh I’ll make soup!’ but making soup ingredients like that #I didn’t exactly help matters #at all #listen sometimes I don’t think things through #and I have no barometer for how much pain is the acceptable amount so #it’s fine now but the first few days #the broken ankle actually hurt less not gonna lie

[sometimes-surveys]

38.

Did you ever pretend you were someone else as a favor for a friend? - Yes, several times in my life. One time that really sticks out, is the time I was at a party and these two guys were trying to take this girl I knew home, even though she was really shitfaced. We weren't really friends, but we had seen each other at parties and talked a bit. She was more of an acquaintance. But anyway, there were these two guys, towards the end of the night, trying to get her to go home with them. I witnessed the back and forth for about five minutes until finally I went over to talk to her. I was like, "Bestie, where you going? Remember, we have a shopping date tomorrow?" She obviously had no clue what I was talking about and the guys were like, "No, she's coming with us" and I was like, "Lydia, do you know these guys?" And she said no, and that's all I needed to know. I turn to the guys and say, "Sorry guys, she has a date with me tomorrow." Literally like ten seconds after that, she runs into the kitchen and pukes in the sink. I was like, "Yeah, she needs to sleep that off, we have shit to do tomorrow." And they finally let up and left. We both ended up sleeping over, which the hostess didn't mind. My ex (who worked an overnight job) picked me up in the morning, and we made sure she got home safe. So, even though she didn't ask for the favor, I didn't know the guys' intentions, and I pretended to be her best friend at the time for her sake.

Do you think men prefer curvy women or skinny women? - I think a lot of men will say "it doesn't matter" but really, I think they like skinny women more. We've (at least my age group) been taught from a young age that skinny is prettier and better health wise. I'm glad that most of my own generation and younger generations are changing the narrative about what's attractive and what isn't.

Do you own a water gun? - No.

What item most embarrasses you to purchase? - Pregnancy tests! Hahaha, I'm a 34 year old, married woman, but it still embarrasses me to buy one. My husband and I don't want kids, and I'm pretty sure we can't have kids, so I think that's why it's such a negative experience to go buy one in person. I usually only do because I get paranoid about being pregnant when my period is super late, knowing full and well that my uterus hates me and will do whatever it likes and when.

Do you know any actual dances or do you just move to the music? - I just move to the music.

Do you eat pork and beans? - No. I'll eat vegetarian baked beans a few times a year, though.

What is the last thing you referred to as legit? - A website I was talking to my husband about.

Or do you think that term is lame? lol - No? It's a word that has a meaning...?

Do you give cards to people for holidays or events? - Yes. Certain people I won't, like someone I know will throw out the card, I won't waste my time or money buying one and filling it out. But people like close family, I'll buy a card for. Always my grandmother. She loves getting cards; she keeps them and displays them the following year for her birthday, Mother's Day, and Xmas.

Do you have anything hanging from the ceiling of your room? - The ceiling fan/light.

The rear view mirror of your car? - I don't drive, and my husband's car will sometimes have an air freshener tree on it.

Which do you prefer, dr or dentist? - The dentist.

Do you know which side your appendix is on? - Yes, it's your right side.

Do you have the fixins in your fridge to make a sandwich? What kind? - Fixins?! Haha, what a word. But yes. There's bread, lettuce, mayonnaise, mustard, turkey, ham, an assortment of cheeses, and bacon.

Are any walls of your room blank? - The room I'm in? Yes, there's one wall without stuff on it in the living room. In the bedroom, there's nothing on the walls. I like a clean look for the bedroom.

When was the last time you ate fruit? - Does a fruit pouch count? I had an apple and butternut squash puree pouch yesterday, haha. It was actually quite tasty.

What color are your favorite shoes? - Black and white.

If someone was willing to tell your crush you liked them would you let them? - I'm married, so no actual crushes here. But even when I did have crushes, I never did the "he said she said" shit. If I liked you, I'd tell you.

Do you know the zodiac signs of your friends? - I have no friends, haha. Just my husband and my brother. My husband is a cancer and my brother is a capricorn.

Favorite dog ever, real life and cartoon. - Our dog is my favorite dog in real life. Cartoon wise: Charlie and Itchy from All Dogs Go To Heaven! That's one of my favorite animated movies of all time.

Do you own anything with fur on it? What? - I own a pair of Uggs (they were gift!) and they’re made of sheep's wool, so I guess yes. ):

Do you choose surveys based on their titles? - Most of the time there aren't titles. Only a number indicating which survey it is for the person answering it.

What would be worse for you, unplanned pregnancy or cancer? - Hmm. Both could kill me. Both are expensive to deal with. Both have tons of side effects. I'll go with cancer, though. *knocks on wood*

What was the last thing you made from scratch? - I guess...dinner the other night?

Do you drink any hot beverages? What? - I've been drinking a shit ton of hot tea lately. I'm getting over covid, and I like to drink tea when I don't feel well. I know it's probably just psychological, me thinking the tea is helping me feel better, but it's comforting. My brother gifted my husband and me a huge goodie bag filled with stuff, including a bunch of tea. I had some orange spice tea this morning. It was really good!

Do you put Q-tips in your ear or just round the outside? - I know you're not supposed to, but I put them in my ear.

Have you ever popped another person's zit? - I'm sure I have popped one of my husband's before.

When was the last time you listened to a radio, NOT online? - Sometimes my husband will put on the radio in the car and listen to a sports game if we're out doing errands and he can't be home to watch it. So I'm guessing sometime within this past year.

Do you have any odious chores hanging over your head? - No.

What is the last thing you confessed to someone? - Hahaha, it's nothing big but I laughed just now thinking about it. So, I told my husband recently that I'm not that fond of his mother's "corn pie." It's this corn stuff she makes for Thanksgiving, it's like a creamed corn casserole and cornbread had a baby. She always makes it because I told her that I liked it one time, yeeeeears ago. So, she makes it for me and is always excited to tell me she's making it. I mean, it's okay. It's not nasty or anything. But like, I'm not going stir crazy when November hits and wanting the corn pie, haha.

Have you ever told a friend to dump their SO? Did they? - I subtly hinted at it. I know it wasn't my place, but the guy was a total asshole and rude as all hell.

Name two things you put whipped cream on? - Pie and hot cocoa.

Who is the last person who saw you with bare feet? - My husband.

What do you think is the coolest piercing on someone else? - I love dimple piercings. They're so adorable. I've always wanted them but too scared because I hear the healing process is a bitch. I'm done getting piercings as I've had over twenty, but man I would love to know what I look like with them.

Colored tattoos or plain? - I prefer color, but some tattoos just look really nice in black and white.

Do you ever eat peanut butter straight from the jar? - Like if I wanted one spoonful or something, yes. I would never sit there, put the spoon in my mouth, then back into the jar of peanut butter.

Do you know how to ride a bike? Do you own one? - I think so, haha. It's been so long. My husband has one.

What was the last pill you took for? - The last pill I took was a vitamin. I did have some liquid medicine sometime last week when I was feeling really ill.

How many devices do you own that hook up to internet? - A lot.

Any best friends you only know online? - Once upon a time, yes. I hope everyone is doing okay.

Do you ever talk to your next door neighbor? - Never. But we do wave to the ones across the street.

Do most of your friends live in houses, apartments or mobiles? - No friends.

Did anything shock you today? - Nope.

What is the thing you last stubbed your toe on? - The space heater/fake fireplace.

Favorite faux curse word. - Freaking.

Who do you tease most often and what about? - I guess my husband. I'll just mock things he says because he has a pretty strong country accent with certain words. He doesn't believe he does, but that's just because he's used to hearing country sounding voices; his whole family is from down south. My family, with the exception of my dad (he's from the Virgin Islands), are all from New York. So, I grew up around that "Yankee" accent.

Slip on or lace up shoes? - Slip on.

Thing you stress over most about the holidays. - Money. I tell myself every year that I won't go broke, but I always do the most. We're mostly all adults now, with the exception of my husband's step-sisters (16 and 19), and I wish that we could just spend the time together instead of doing a fucking gift exchange every year. It's annoying.

Food you take a second helping of on Thanksgiving? - Stuffing. My mom made some vegetarian stuffing this year, and omg it was so good.

Would you rather spend Thanksgiving with friends or family? - Family. I'm always so "wah I fucking hate house hopping and doing this and that" but this year, my husband and I had Covid so I actually missed being around my family. They dropped some food off on the porch and visited for a few minutes outside, but it sucked.  

Most disgusting bug. - Cockroaches.

Nastiest thing in your fridge. - Whole milk. I got some things delivered to me yesterday, and the delivery driver also left someone else's order. Long story short, after trying to right the wrong, there was nothing I could do to get the items back to where they were supposed to go, so we kept them. And now we have two gallons of whole milk in the fridge. My mom was supposed to come pick some of the groceries up today.

Song you hate but keep singing anyway. - I can't think of one right now.

Cookies or brownies. - Cookies.

Do you own any movie soundtracks? Which? - Yes. I have vinyls of horror movies. I'm not going through the list, there's quite a few.

How many pillows do you sleep with? - Two.

Favorite outdoors smell. - Just clean fresh air.

Are you wearing a hoodie right now? - I am. It's red.

Do you ever sleep in your day clothes? - If I'm napping on the couch, yes. I always change into bed clothes before going to bed.

Do you prefer your clothes loose or close fitting? - I just like them to fit. So a little loose, a little fitted.

Are your fave pants jeans? - No.

Do you own any under things bought to impress the opposite sex? - I own lingerie, but I bought it more to help me feel sexy. My husband doesn't care. He of course hypes me up when I'm wearing it, but it all comes off anyway, so he can do without it.

Favorite thing you've ever painted? - Probably this work of art inspired by The Used's album Heartwork that I did back in 2020 when the album came out.

Do you eat applesauce? - Yeah, from time to time.

Are there any songs that remind you of your mother? - Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You." My mom used to love the movie The Bodyguard, and she always sang that song while doing things around the house. We had a karaoke night a few months ago, and she sang that song.

If you had a sister, would you prefer her older or younger? Why? - I do have a sister. She's my half sister that lives in NYC, and she's older. And I guess by marriage, I have sisters (my husband's half-sister that lives with his dad, and his step-sisters) and they're younger.

What is something you wanted to say today, but didn’t? - Nothing. I've been alone since I woke up this morning.

Where are your keys right now? - In my purse.

Is there any product you always buy at the dollar store? - Yes, I get my favorite eyeliner from there! It's the LA Colors liquid eyeliner. It's a little difficult to work with, at least for me. I have long, curly lashes that get in the way when doing my eyeliner. But I love the eyeliner. It's super dark and pigmented, and it lasts so long. It's not even marketed as waterproof (I don't think), but I've worn it while crying, sweating, etc and it doesn't go anywhere.

Can you recite any prayers by heart? - Yes, "Our Father" and "Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep."

When it's your birthday, do you have the correct number of candles? - Nah, we usually just do the number candles.

Birthday cake alone, or cake and ice cream? - I can do without the ice cream.

#surveys #survey

[kasienda]

A Miraculous Reveal - Just an Ordinary (Bad) Day

Marinette choked back a cry as her eyes landed on the black butterfly that fluttered towards her. She slid down to the ground, and pulled her knees to her chest. How had she sunk this low? Yeah, her day had sucked, but it was the suck of an ordinary bad day where everything seemed to go wrong.

But it shouldn’t have been soul ending. Ladybug’s responsibilities hadn’t interrupted Marinette’s life at all. Chloé hadn’t been picking on or undermining her. Lila hadn’t cornered her in the bathroom, and while her history teacher was probably irritated that she had run out of class, she wasn’t facing a potential expulsion.

It was just an ordinary bad day.

Surely, not anything worthy of an akuma. Especially not an akuma for Ladybug.

Marinette should have been able to handle it. She always handled it. She just needed to breathe deeply and calm herself down.

And yet, the akuma fluttered ever closer.

Continue reading on Ao3

“Marinette!” Tikki hissed. “You need to breathe.”

Marinette choked off a sob, scuttled backwards on her butt away from the sparkling butterfly, and did as her kwami advised. She took long and even breaths, trying to soothe herself, but she was losing the battle. Her tears threatened to claw back up her throat anyway.

It had been an absolutely terrible day.

It had started with the nightmares. She hadn’t been able to fall into slumber without tearing awake an hour later with her pajamas sticking to her sweat soaked form, struggling for air. On a bad night, Marinette didn’t always remember the haunting images that plagued her attempts at rest, but she would tear awake with a pounding heart and crying eyes just the same.

But this night, the dreams were far too vivid. In some, she faced the concerned faces of her friends and family, but she didn’t know their names. In another, she lived underground, living off rats after Hawkmoth’s dystopian wish came to fruition in the form of iron-clad authoritarian rule. But the worst nightmare featured Chat Blanc’s soulless blue eyes staring straight through her - never seeing his partner and friend. He hunted her through forests covered in winter white, or he threw her off the tallest building in Paris. And in the last one, he hadn’t tried to hurt her at all.

No, he had tried to turn his cataclysmic power on himself.

He had been so alone. Died alone in a desolate world.

She hadn’t been able to save him.

And after that, she had been unwilling to try again for sleep.

It felt like she hadn’t slept at all. Her head existed in a fog with a dull ache between her temples. Her thoughts and motivation were even more sluggish than usual this morning. She wished that she could just sleep through one whole night just once this week. Was that too much to ask?

When she hadn’t made it out of the bathroom quickly enough, her mother had been kind enough to leave a breakfast tray on her desk. Only, with a towel over her head as she was drying her hair, Marinette hadn’t seen it. She had knocked the whole tray - strewn with eggs, toast, and coffee - over onto the floor when she stumbled past. It wouldn’t have been a big deal except she had a project laid out on the floor. A pattern pinned in place that she hadn’t cut out yet. The coffee alone no doubt ruined the fabric she had spent months saving up to buy.

Marinette fell to her knees in front of the disaster.

Her mother found her there still clad in only her towel, staring stoically over the lost project.

When thin warm arms wrapped around her, Marinette’s started in surprise.

“Oh Marinette, I’m so sorry,” her mother apologized. “I didn’t mean to risk your project. I was trying to save you some time.”

Marinette shook her head against her mother’s chest. “It wasn’t your fault,” the teenager responded tonelessly. “I didn’t see it.”

“I can’t promise anything,” her mother soothed, as her hand rubbed warm circles along her back. “But I will try to save the fabric.”

Marinette nodded, but she couldn’t bring herself to tear her eyes from the disaster. She didn’t know what she was feeling, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. And it wasn’t really about the fabric. It was about everything.

If Ladybug hadn’t been needed last night, no doubt Marinette would have finished cutting the pieces out, and had the project tucked away safely.

If Marinette wasn’t the Guardian, she would have had more time to earn more money to replace the loss, and she would have more time in general to recreate the now soggy patterns. More time to spend on the things that brought her joy.

As it was, Papillon had her up and running frantic at all times of day and night.

It wasn’t fair.

“Marinette, I will clean this up,” her mother assured her, still rubbing her back. “Do you think you could start getting ready for school again?”

Marinette stumbled to her feet, and began the usual mad dash to collect all her things before heading off to school.

She was only five minutes late by the time she ran out the door, with a ham and cheese quiche in her bag as a second attempt at sustenance. It wasn’t until she had fallen into her usual seat beside her best friend that she realized she had forgotten her essay.

The essay that she had actually completed, proofread, edited, and printed out. The assignment was no doubt still laying in her printer’s document tray on her desk in her room.

She let her head fall to the desk in frustration. Why did it have to be for Mendeliev? Any other teacher would have let her retrieve the paper during lunch and turn it in for full credit. But Mendeliev? While the science teacher was never very sympathetic with anyone, she had lost all patience with Marinette and her scatterbrained tendencies months ago.

Which is why Marinette’s grade was in jeopardy. She could not afford this late penalty. Having to retake the course in summer school was the absolute last thing she needed to add onto her plate.

At the end of class she had asked anyway, but the stern science teacher glared down her nose. “We’ve already had this conversation, Marinette,” she said coldly. “I’ve no interest in repeating it now.”

Her head hung low, Marinette trudged into the hallway barely noticing the bustle of students around her. Until one of them crashed into her and icy cold swept across her front.

“Oh my god! Marinette!” Rose’s shrill voice punctuated her shock. “I’m so sorry!”

“Marinette!” another voice crooned mockingly. “Finally found a fashion statement that suits your personality, I see!”

“Shut up, Chloé!” Alya barked already at her friend’s side, trying to help wring out the dark liquid from Marinette’s original shirt.

Marinette crumpled like paper on the spot. Hot tears sprang to her eyes, her throat closed up, and her chest felt tight.  

Rose squeezed her hand, as tears sprang to her blue eyes. “Marinette,” she sobbed. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. I was just running to meet Juleka. It was an accident. Please forgive me.”

Marinette squeezed Rose’s hand in return. “I-it’s okay, Rose. I-I know it was an accident. Today… today, has just…” and she choked on the words.

“Ladies!” Damocles’ voice barked across the courtyard. “Get to class!”

“But sir!” Alya objected. “Marinette needs to get cleaned up.”

The principal eyed the three girls. “Marinette is fully capable of cleaning herself up in the restroom. You and Rose need to get to class.”

Her friends glared daggers at the principal’s disapproving frown, but eventually shouldered their bags, and turned towards class with sympathetic smiles and slumped shoulders

Suddenly, Marinette stood alone in the courtyard in her sopping wet blouse. She blinked her eyes furiously, beating back the tears that threatened to fall. When she could breathe easily again through the lump in her throat she picked up her bag, and made her way slowly to the bathroom.

But within the privacy of the tiny girl’s bathroom, her emotions caught up with her again, and was soon weeping softly as she tried unsuccessfully to dab the coffee out of her pale pink shirt.

How much was too much, before a girl couldn’t take it anymore?

She fought against the thought, and forced her breathing to slow until she could dam up the flow of tears. She could do this.

She was Ladybug.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Alya: Hey girl. I just received a slip to leave for a dentist appointment. I have to go. Are you going to be okay?

The words blurred for a second, before Marinette stubbornly wiped her eyes, and recentered her breathing all over again. Of course, she would be okay.

She was Ladybug.

She typed back a quick response assuring Alya that she would manage.  

After she finished rinsing her shirt the best she could, and using a hand dryer to get it down to damp rather than soaking, she returned to class.

Marinette ducked under the teacher’s disapproving gaze, and scrambled to her seat.

History proved to be particularly dreary that day. The teacher was just droning on and on. She would have had difficulty enough paying attention on a normal day. As it was, Marinette’s emotional reserves were shot and with Alya gone for her appointment, and Adrien absent for who knew what, there was nothing there to distract her. Soon, she caught herself nodding off.

“Marinette!” Her teacher’s sudden unexpected voice tore her from her unsanctioned nap. “If you stay awake in class, you might actually score higher than a D on the next exam.”

And that was the straw she could not handle. Tears burst from her in uncontrolled torrents. Right in the middle of class. Consoling and judgemental comments alike had poured in around her.

She didn’t wait for the teacher to call the class back to order. Instead, she bolted for the exit.

She had thought she could soothe herself in the privacy of the empty hallway, but instead she had found herself on the ground, backed into a corner on her butt, face to face with an akuma.  

It honestly was almost pretty. Electric violet sparkled across the butterfly’s black fluttering wings.

Some part of her wanted to reach out and touch it.

Because Marinette was sick of crying, tired of being the bigger person, and far too aware that her thin shoulders could not bear the weight of protecting an entire city from a terrorist indefinitely.

She had no fall back position. She was it! A sixteen year old girl. Who thought that was a good idea?

If she was going to lose someday anyway, why not today?

Tikki’s bulbous form flew into her face and took up her entire field of vision.

“Marinette!” Tikki hissed. “You need to breathe,” she added gently.

Marinette nodded, trying to follow those directions.

Because she couldn’t be akumatized. No one would know Ladybug was out of commission. No one could bring out extra allies from the miracle box.

But her throat was tight and her chest felt hollow and she just wanted to curl up on herself and cry.

Chat Noir would have to face her alone.

The butterfly melted into her earrings. She felt them grow hot, but she couldn’t move as the electric violet flooded her vision.

Hello, Lady Liberty.

His voice was cold, but booming. It seemed to scream from inside her own head. Her hands clutched either side of her face.

“Marinette!” Tikki yelled, but Marinette had to strain to hear her.

You bear a heavy load. Let me ease your burden by allowing you to let it all go. You can be free.

Hot tears ran down her cheeks. Marinette wanted to let go. She wanted to be free.

But Tikki was still screaming, and Marinette knew her kwami was the one she ought to be listening to. “Don’t fight your feelings! If you fight them, they double down. Try to accept them. Forgive yourself, Marinette. Have patience and compassion for yourself. Please! Can you do that?”

Marinette nodded, but who was she nodding to? She didn’t know.

I grant you the power to free everyone from the burdens they carry.

Marinette nodded again.

“Think of something that makes you feel safe and loved,” the other voice interrupted urgently. “Something that makes you have hope! Go to that place on your mind, Marinette.”

Her mind instantly flooded with visions of her partner.

Being tangled up with him in the string of her yoyo the first time they met. He hadn’t been upset. He hadn’t doubted her ability. He had been excited and wanted to know her name.

Him diving in front of her to take a hit only to instantly fade from existence. But he had smiled, just for a moment. Like he had died happy knowing he had protected her.

His infuriating smirk every time he managed to pull off a stupid joke at a ridiculous time or one up her in some ridiculous competition.

He gave her advice - patient and heartfelt - even when she was asking for advice about confessing to another boy.

His arms wrapped around her - solid and safe - after her biggest mistake that had cost her a mentor. His faith and trust in her had never waivered.

And suddenly, she was laughing through her tears.

She was in love with Chat Noir.

When had that even happened?

It didn’t matter, but the revelation made one thing crystal clear: She couldn’t be akumatized.

That would leave her partner alone.

And she would never do that to him.

Marinette gasped for air as the butterfly broke away. The akuma couldn’t hold her. Not like this, not with the joy that flooded her form at the realization that she could be happy - that she could make her kitty happy.

The winged creature flapped away, and Marinette sagged to her knees. Her bones felt like jelly, but she was giggling hysterically.

The black butterfly flew away. Only once it was out of sight did it occur to her that she should have transformed and purified it.

But she hadn’t been thinking at all, and now Ladybug was going to have to deal with an akuma.

She supposed that was better than Ladybug being the akuma.

Muffled screams pierced the silence, followed by the sound of a classroom door slamming open.

Marinette didn’t move immediately. She remained huddled up on the floor unmotivated to get to her feet. Students evacuated from their rooms - some more orderly than others. Despite the chaos around her, Marinette remained unaffected by it.

Even an explosion rocking the ground beneath her legs still folded underneath her form, was not enough to bring her out of her funk. Paris could wait for five minutes.

“Well, look at you!” Chat Noir’s booming voice echoed from the courtyard. “Aren’t you a regular class act?”

Marinette was running for a safe spot to transform before she had made the conscious decision. While she was willing to make Paris wait, she couldn’t leave her partner fighting for a second longer than necessary.

Not ever.

No matter how done she wanted to be with this day.

“M’lady!” He greeted happily when she landed beside him.

“What’ve we got?”

“Apparently a pop quiz burst this kid’s bubble!” Her partner reported, his green vertical pupils never leaving their adversary. “Apparently he was angling for an A in Geometry.”

She sighed. How mundane. “His teacher is the target?”

“Monsier Fontaine,” he clarified.

She nodded. “Let’s get this over with, kitty.”

The akuma wasn’t particularly dangerous, which wasn’t surprising since she knew he hadn’t been Hawkmoth’s first choice.

But Ladybug was having trouble keeping her head in the game - she was still raw and shaky from too close a call. She stumbled through an easy dodge more than once. But Chat was always there hauling her to her feet or blocking the attack.

Once he had her upright and centered for the fourth time, she wasted no more time waiting for an opening and immediately called for her lucky charm.

A spotted frying pan fell into her hands. She blinked at the pan, her mind remaining stubbornly blank. She had no clue what to do with this!

“What amazing plan will you cook up next?” Chat grinned at her, his baton spinning in his hands blocking another blow.

She looked into his smiling eyes, and everything instantly fell into place. God, he always was exactly what she needed. Of course she had fallen in love with him.

The battle lasted another twenty-two seconds.

But when Chat Noir offered her a fist for their traditional victory fist bump, she knocked it aside and seized him in a hug instead.

He stiffened for a second, but then his tension fell away and his arms encircled protectively around her. “LB? Are you okay? I didn’t think that battle was that hard. I certainly don’t remember dying that time.”

“Shut up!” she whispered into his chest as she clung to him.

His arms tightened around her. “As you wish, M’lady.” His head leaned against her own and she stood there feeling the comfort of his solid warm frame holding her upright. They just stood there for several seconds. Everything was quiet. Then his chest was vibrating. Was he purring?

She hadn’t known he could do that.

She nuzzled her cheek into his chest, closer to the soothing vibration.

“LB, are you okay?” he asked again.

She shook her head. “I just had a really bad day.”

Her earrings beeped in warning, but she remained within his embrace.

He sighed and melted against her. “Who do I need to beat up?” he mumbled.

She giggled. “I’ll text you my list.”

“I’ll take care of it by end of day tomorrow,” he joked, his voice tickling her inner ear.

She knew he was joking, but she grinned anyway. He was always on her side, no questions asked.

“I need to talk to you somewhere private. Where do you think would be safe from prying eyes?”

He pulled away just an inch and searched her face intently. She had no idea what he saw, and she quickly found her gaze falling into her hands, a heated blush creeping out from under her mask.

“Do you remember that café we went to after patrol last week?”

She nodded.

“There’s a deep balcony in the alleyway about three stories up. The building is closed for renovations, but the balcony is untouched.

“Perfect. Go recharge, and meet me there?” She requested.

“See you in ten, M’lady!”

Ladybug launched herself up out of the school’s courtyard and onto Paris’s rooftops. Her earrings beeped again. She ducked behind a chimney, and let the transformation fall. Tikki fell into her hands.

Tikki didn’t take her offered cookie. Instead, the kwami flew up to Marinette’s face and nuzzled her head into Marinette’s cheek. “Are you okay, Marinette?”

Marinette leaned into the affectionate gesture. “I’m exhausted, Tikki. I feel raw and numb. But not as upset. Thank you, by the way. I would not have survived that without you.”

“I’m always happy to support you. I am sad that it was necessary today.”

Marinette stroked the top of her kwami’s head. “I’m going to tell him who I am.”

To her relief, Tikki didn’t object. Instead, the kwami nodded. “I understand. But if you’re emotionally done for today, just know you don’t have to talk to Chat Noir right this second. It can wait until tomorrow or next patrol.”

Marinette shook her head. “Today proved that not telling him is a potentially huge risk. I am not going to sleep again until I fix it. And plus, he deserves to know. He’s wanted to know for so long.” She trailed off for a moment as her feelings caught up with her all over again. “He’s going to be so happy,” she whispered, a tear slipped down her cheek even as she giggled.

“You love him?” Tikki asked with a soft smile.

“I don’t even know when it happened!” Marinette exclaimed. “And that stupid cat is never going to let me live it down,” she grumbled.

Tikki did a happy little dance in the air. “I’m happy for you, Marinette. You deserve to be happy.”

“Thank you, Tikki. Now, let’s go.”

Tikki inhaled the cookie in two gulps. Marientte called for her transformation and launched herself into the skyline once again, her heart light even if butterflies fluttered in her stomach with nervous energy.

She arrived at their meeting place. He was already there sitting in a lotus position frowning into space. His expression brightened when he caught sight of her.

“Are you okay?” he asked for the third time, his eyes shining with concern.

And she found herself lost in his gaze - sincere and yet, incredibly open. How had she ever turned this boy down?

“I…” she trailed off, unable to find words. She just needed to say it. Why was she hesitating? This was going to make everything easier and he would be thrilled, wouldn’t he? He had always wanted to know.

But he hadn’t asked in a long time. Maybe he had moved on. Like she had asked him to.

She shook her head at herself. It didn’t matter. She had been akumatized. This wasn’t about what either of them felt. Not telling him was putting millions in danger every single day.

She found herself smiling.

“M’lady?”

She dropped down next to him, deep into the private balcony with walls on three sides. The balcony wasn’t designed to have a view. She suspected its function was just to allow the inhabitants to be outside.

“Tikki, spots off,” she whispered.

“Woah! What are you doing?” he demanded, turning his head away.

That wouldn’t do. She took his face gently between her hands. He didn’t resist as her skin tight suit peeled away in a ripple of pink light.

He just stared at her, his eyes wide in shock. “M-Marinette? But… I saw you… and L-ladybug.”

“Fox miraculous,” she explained.

“Ah,” was all he managed to say, his beautiful green eyes wide with shock.

“I-is this okay?” she asked.

He blinked at her dumbly. “Uh, y-yes, of course it is, m’lady! More than okay! Just completely unexpected.”

“You don’t have to reciprocate,” she told him.

He blanched. “Are you kidding me?! Plagg, cla-”

She pinched his lips closed with her bare hands. “No! Wait! Let’s talk first. You can reveal yourself after if you still want to.”

“But I…” he objected, his body tense and unmoving.

She covered his mouth again. “Please?”

He sagged against her hold. She didn’t remove her hand until he nodded. “Whatever you need, M’lady Princess.”

Every muscle in her body loosened at the new combined affectionate nickname. Princess. She was his princess. And his lady.

“Tikki?” Marinette called.

The kwami nodded.

“Spots on.” And she let her magical energies wrap her once again in its protective warmth.

Chat’s eyes were as wide as canyons as he watched her display. “Wow! That was… amazing. Your transformation is like a dance. You’re so graceful. I mean… I knew that, but this is just like the epitome of...”

She covered her face with her gloved hands, trying to cover the heat she felt growing from the bottom of her mask. “Please, stop,” she begged. How was she ever going to tell this boy what she needed to when he kept sending her thoughts and feelings scrambling in a million different directions with gushing praise?

He grinned. “I can’t help it,” he objected. “You’re so amazing. I mean... I already knew that, but now…” he trailed off and really looked at her. “I’ve suspected you more than once. I just…  But after kwami buster, I assumed it was just wishful thinking.”

Her jaw dropped. “You wanted me to be her?”

He barked a laugh. “You have no idea.”

Her blush bloomed from her cheeks to the very tips of her ears. But she didn’t know what to say, and the silence stretched between them.

“So… uh…” his hand rubbed the back of his neck. “What changed your mind?”

She wrapped her arms around her stomach in an attempt to soothe herself - to assure herself that she hadn’t truly become an akuma. She hadn’t betrayed her duty or her partner in that low moment. “I just... I need you to know.” It was all she managed to say before her throat seemed to snap closed, choking off everything else she needed to say.

“It must’ve been some bad day to convince you to go against the prime directive of superheroing,” he offered, his voice gentle and soft.

And she laughed, but within seconds her mirth transformed into tears and she was finally crying, the sobs tearing through her.

His arms instantly wrapped around her. And she fell into his embrace and just let herself cry.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m right here,” he soothed, his hands rubbing comforting circles on her back.

And she cried herself out. It was a good cry. A release of not just the day, but also of all the tension and stress she had carried for weeks, or maybe years, with no place to unburden herself.

Until today.

“What happened?” he asked when her cries had finally faded.

The question was thrilling. Amazing even because it occurred to her that for the first time since taking up the mantle of Ladybug, for the first time in years, she didn’t have to filter anything.

“It’s stupid really. Just a bunch of little things that all added up.” And she told him all of it. About the nightmares, and she’d tell him about the reality of Chat Blanc soon. But for now, she stayed focused on the day. She spoke of her ruined fabric, her feelings that mishap had triggered about being Ladybug and the Guardian, about her blouse getting ruined, about her friends not being there in class, and her stupid stupid teachers wo just didn’t understand that homework could never be her top priority. “And I could have handled all of it, I swear! It’s just so hard on top of all of this. The akuma was the last straw.”

“Akumas do have the worst timing,” he commented.

She sighed. He didn’t realize that she didn’t mean the monster they just fought, but the raw little black butterfly.

“It was meant for me,” she admitted softly. “It actually succeeded in melding with my earrings.”

He turned rigid underneath her, suddenly as frozen as an ice sculpture.

Her grip around him tightened. “And you know what I was most angry about, Chaton?” she continued, determined to get all of it out. “I wasn’t angry at Papillion. Not really. I was just upset that I couldn’t let myself be akumatized. I’m the only person in Paris who isn’t allowed to just say “fuck it” and let the butterfly take me. The only person who isn’t allowed to have a bad day. I want to be able to have a bad day!”

“I want to be able to let myself be akumatized, and just be able to trust that Ladybug and Chat Noir will take care of it. Why don’t I get that?”

She pulled back just enough to see his face, and she was horrified to see the tear tracks down his cheeks.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!”

His eyes landed on hers. “Whatever for?” he demanded.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” she admitted, brushing his tears away with her thumb. “I’m sorry that I’m so pathetic. That I wasn’t strong enough.”

He pulled back, and turned her so they were looking right at one another eye to eye. He had a hand on either one of her shoulders. She felt like he was staring directly into her soul, but she couldn’t look away. She had never once seen him so serious.

“Buginette, I need you to hear me right now,” he paused as if expecting her to object. When she didn’t, he continued. “You are the strongest person I know. From what you said, I gather that you were able to throw off an akuma after it had gotten you.”

She nodded confirmation.

“I’ve never known anyone to do that. I didn’t know it was possible. Maybe someone has done it before. I guess I wouldn’t have a way of knowing, but… I guess what I’m saying is that you’re not pathetic. Not even close. You’re so strong, and incredibly resilient. And I don’t know how you’ve done everything you do as Ladybug and as Marinette for so long.”

His eyes bored into hers, never once did he look away.

“And you’re allowed to be human, Buginette. And this feels weird to say, but I want you to be able to have a bad day, too.”

She laughed. And he smiled in response, touching his forehead to hers. His compelling green eyes filled up her whole vision.

“I’m sorry that you’ve felt so alone in holding the mantle of Ladybug. I’m sorry that I haven’t been here in the way that you needed.”

She shook her head. “That’s not true! You’ve always been here. You’ve always given me what I needed even when I didn’t realize. And me feeling alone was more my fault than yours,” she insisted. “I’m the one that insisted on keeping our identities secret. I thought it was too dangerous to share our identities.”

She pressed her lips together in thought.

“But when I was facing that akuma, I realized that not sharing is dangerous, too. That I’ve been keeping all my secrets in one basket. And while that makes them harder to lose, it also makes me more vulnerable. If I hadn't been able to fight off that akuma, you wouldn’t have had any back up and you wouldn’t have known that Ladybug wasn’t coming.”

“You’d likely be an absolutely terrible akuma,” he commented. “I mean, you kick ass without anything boosting your skills. I’m going to have nightmares about akumanette now.” His tone was light.

She stuck her tongue out at his teasing. He smirked.

She allowed the moment of silliness before growing solemn and serious once again. “Master Fu kept all his secrets in one basket and kept himself hidden for over a century. He told one person - me. And less than two years went by, and all it took was one stupid thoughtless mistake on my part and it all came toppling down!”

Chat squeezed her shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. It’s also easier for him to stay hidden and keep secrets when there aren’t akumas out terrorizing the street every other day!”

“And I don’t even know how to do this as well as him,” she continued to rant as if he hadn’t spoken. “And I am falling apart, Chaton.” she broke into soft sobs again.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed. “I’m right here. And now that I know who you are, I’m going to be so present and so supportive you’re going to wish that you had never revealed your identity!”

She traced the curve of his jawline with two fingers. “In this moment, I really don’t think I’m going to regret any of this.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “For?”

“For trusting me. I promise I will do everything in my power to protect you, your secret, and by extension, your loved ones.”

She nuzzled further into him, her head resting on his collar bone. She didn’t want to be caught crying again.

“I don’t know if I’m worth your devotion, Chaton,” she whispered.

His arms tightened around her waist. “Shhh! Don’t say that. It’s not true.”

The tears flowed before she could stop them. “I-I don’t know how… to be the Guardian,” she confessed.

He only smiled. “You didn’t know how to be Ladybug at first either. You rose to that challenge beautifully.”

Her lips twisted into a displeased frown. “Only because I had such an amazing partner,” she said emphatically.

“I only have ever followed your example,” he told her. “You taught me to be a hero.”

She laughed. This boy. He never stopped. “God, I love you.”

Chat Noir looked like she had clubbed him with a two by four. His eyes were overblown, and his mouth open in a little ‘o’ of surprise.

She bit her lip, trying to assess his reaction because for once in his life he was being infuriatingly silent. “I meant it. It wasn’t just a slip. I actually love you.”

He blinked at her, unmoving.

“P-please say something,” she begged.

“I… uh…”

She wilted at his hesitation. “I thought you’d be happy…”

He pulled her against his form, tucking her head under his chin. “Trust me, Bugaboo, I am over the moon! I’m not sure that this day could get any better honestly. I’m just also in shock and more than a bit confused.”

She relaxed into his embrace, melting at how natural it felt to be held in his arms.

“Since when do you love me?” he asked, his voice barely louder than a gentle breeze.

“I think it’s been a while now, but I realized it just today,” she confided into his chest.

“How?”

“When we saw the akuma, Tikki told me to go to my happy place and I thought of you,” she sat up and looked up at him then. “You’re the only place anymore I feel safe and completely understood. And I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner.”

“What about your friends?” he whispered, his eyes swirling with an emotion she could not label.

“They’re great. But they can’t understand... and it’s not like I can explain it to them.”

“What about the boy you love?”

“I had to let him go.”

“Why?”

She leaned up against him once again, her gaze falling to their feet. “I couldn’t share all myself with him. And he doesn’t need all my baggage. Plus, I think I already missed my chance. He’s in love with someone else.”

She could hear his frown. “How do you know?”

“He told me.”

“He told you he was in love with someone else,” he repeated, the disbelief clear in his voice.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I find it hard to believe that he could love anyone else when he knows you.”

She rolled her eyes. “He told me that the girl he loved didn’t like his jokes, and since I was sitting right next to him in his fancy limo car when he said it, I knew he wasn’t talking about me.”

He went rigid underneath her. She jerked up, and searched his face. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing!” he said, turning his gaze away.

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

He gaze swung back to her, his cheeks burning in the most beautiful pink. “I just find it impossible that he wasn’t talking about you.”

She gave him a flat look. “He definitely wasn’t talking about me.”

Chat’s gloved hands cupped both sides of her face. “He was actually.”

She was lost in his intense gaze.

“He just didn’t know it was you,” he whispered.

She stared at him for several seconds, but she shook herself and pulled away. “How would you know? You weren’t there!” she objected.

His claws scratched at the back of his neck. Her eyes zeroed in on the action. It was familiar.

“I know you don’t believe me, but It’s true. He was talking about you,” he insisted, looking right over at her. “You never have liked my jokes.”

“That’s not true! It’s not the jokes that suck!” she objected. “Though they are a bit lame,” she tacked on softly. “But it’s the timing! Your timing sucks!”

And then her expression faded. Her eyebrows scrunched towards each other under the pressure of the mask. “Wait, a second. I have never liked your jokes?”

“Well, you definitely didn’t like it when I pretended to be a wax model.”

She felt her face go slack, her eyes overblown and gaping. “A-Adrien?” she whispered.

“Hi?” He gave her a self conscious little smile.

“H-hi,” she managed back, her voice too high.

His whole face lit up in understanding. “Oh my god! You always stuttered around me because you liked me?”

Her cheeks burned hot.

“I was convinced forever that you didn’t like me at all, or that I was intimidating somehow for being a fashion icon,” he rambled.

“You were intimidating,” she broke in. “You were so kind and genuine. And just… incredibly patient. I liked you so much. I was terrified of messing things up. Which I did constantly, because I am such a spaz.”

His whole form softened, and he offered her the smallest most sincere smile and she gasped. Seriously, how had she never recognized him before this.

His hand slowly moved towards hers and he wove their fingers together, before touching his forehead to hers ever so gently. “Nothing has ever been messed up. You have always amazed me on both sides of the mask. I fell in love with Ladybug when she stood up to Hawkmoth on our first day on the job. I love the way her brain works and how her creative genius can find victory when she has almost nothing to work with.”

“And I’ve always admired Marinette for the way she goes out of the way to make everyone feel welcome - even stray cats that land on her balcony, the way she expects others to do the right thing, and the way she stands up when someone else doesn’t live up to those ideals. I love when her eyes get so big when she’s nervous and I positively love the moments when she trips over her own feet.”

She smacked him playfully, heat blazing from her neck to her ears. “Shut up! You do not!”

He laughed. “I do though! It gives me an excuse to touch her.”

She went still, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Every time you trip, I get to catch you or offer you a hand to get back up. I love those moments, Marinette. I’ve always cherished them.”

“Really?” She asked, her voice small, her eyes filling with emotion she could not define.

“Really,” he assured.

She moved before she thought about it. She literally threw herself at him, and he barely caught her; he was so startled. But he did catch her. Because he always caught her. And that made it really easy to kiss him.

Her lips pressed against his. And she took satisfaction from the fact that he took him a second to react, that she had managed to catch him off guard.

But then he did respond and she didn’t have the space for thought.

His hands cupped the base of her skull, cradling her whole head. His claws gently kneaded into her hair, sending tingles shooting down her neck and all the way down her spine. And his lips - they were so soft. As soft as a baby’s newborn skin. He gently sucked in on her lower lip causing her to gasp. They were sharing the same breath. His tongue tentatively brushed past her lips and she met it with her own.

Unfortunately, she eventually needed to breathe again.

“I love you,” she gasped against his mouth as she pulled away.

He smirked. “I told you that you’d fall for me eventually.”

She shoved him playfully away when he cackled happily. But she was laughing too.

“What am I going to do with you?” she demanded.

He pulled her against him again, and kissed her chastely. “Love me forever, I hope.” And then his expression grew serious. “Because I love you, Mari. I have since the day I met you.”

She grinned and traced the side of his face with a knuckle. “Forever doesn’t sound so bad,” she admitted before kissing him again.

And it really didn’t.

Even if he never let her hear the end of the fact that she had finally fallen for him despite her denials. Even if she had to put up with puns at the worst possible times. Even if he insisted on taking blow after blow for her.

If she was being honest, she didn’t want to hear the end of it. She wanted him to tease her for forever and a day. She wanted to hear his stupid jokes. And she wanted to fight with him at her side.

Because that was who he was. And she loved him.

#miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ladynoir #identity reveal #angst #happy ending #Marinette's no good very bad day #Marinette reflects #Supportive Chat Noir #love confessions #miraculous reveal #my own content

[aloysiavirgata]

The Way That Light Attaches To A Girl

Title:  The Way That Light Attaches To A Girl

Author: Aloysia Virgata

Rating: PG (language)

Timeline: Season 1

Summary:  Maybe she’s not so bad, this gingery little doctor.

Author’s Notes:  Mulder reads Cicero and finds the method of loci tool useful in honing an eidetic memory. Also, the timeline of this show is absurd. Per canon, the Pilot is in March of 1992. But here it’s March of 1993 because...I just can’t, honestly. Thank you to @perplexistan for reminding me that I wrote this in 2013, and talking me through the timeline.

*** It's been a long December and there's reason to believe Maybe this year will be better than the last I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself To hold on to these moments as they pass - Counting Crows *** It’s gritty outside, gritty and gray with a rime of salt on everything. There are pockets of rotten snow for him to kick, slushy and satisfying against his heavy shoes. He pulls his coat tighter, feeling like a hard-boiled detective in a pulp paperback, thinking this would be a good time for a cigarette if he still smoked. His divorce papers were filed this time last year, just like his parents’ had been a couple decades back. The ink had scarcely been dry on the marriage certificate when they realized they didn’t know each other and changed their minds. It was the same time Diana left him and his - their - files for whatever the fuck had summoned her across the sea. Paperwork, as ever in his life, was all that remained of these experiences. If this were really a detective story, he thinks, stepping over a soggy Washington Post, a tall cool blonde would have walked in through the frozen mist and into his arms. Someone lithe, with red lipstick and half-lidded violet eyes. She would look like Veronica Lake and speak in a low, compelling voice, urging him to do brave and outlandish things to thwart the Nazis. He’d wear a fedora, buy a mink stole for the blonde. They’d drink martinis and make love in dark hotels smelling of leather and intrigue. But he’s not living in a dime-store novel, he’s living in Alexandria on Christmas Eve 1993 (“The New Age of Angels,” claimed Time magazine, somewhat cryptically) and is eager to turn the last page in his calendar. Mulder knows it’s symbolic only, that his Eurocentrism is showing, but he still watches the ball drop on TV. Last year he’d kissed a woman in a bar and gone home with her too, but doesn’t think he’d remember her face if he saw it. He hasn’t got the energy to entice a stranger this year, and Scully’s hardly his type. He shouldn’t be sleeping with coworkers anyway, it’s never worth the trouble and the FBI is full of people who are paid to do nothing but sniff out secrets. Besides, he is now 32 years old which is really about time to start getting your shit together even if your baby sister was abducted by aliens at Thanksgiving. Mulder generally holds the holidays in low regard. He pauses to watch a small flock of cats at an upended trash can, feasting upon pungent things like battlefield ravens. One of the cats glances at him sidelong, narrowing round yellow eyes as though Mulder has designs on the gray thing it’s gnawing at. He holds his hands up to show the cats he wishes them no harm, keeps walking. Scully had offered to drive him home but he thanked her and caught the blue line, the clank and rattle of the train making him feel like some variety of normal businessman. Maybe people thought he was a banker or a Congressional staffer, going home to a twinkling Douglas fir and a mantle hung with stockings. Nine months and a broken condom can, in many circumstances, result in a whole new person. But it’s been nine months with Scully and she’s still her own woman, though Christ knows Mulder’s tried to remake her in his own image. She’s trudged alongside him through graveyards, military bases, bad diners, and one memorable night in Pennsylvania where she had captured a frantic bat in the hotel lobby. (“Do you want to wait for it to take human form before I release it?” she’d asked drily.) Through all of it she remained disbelieving and supercilious, leaving him vexed. She’d chirped “Merry Christmas, Mulder” at him, assuming that he celebrated Christmas and was capable of merriment. He was afraid Scully’d bring in a little Charlie Brown tree for the office, ornaments smooth and shining as her earnest face. She is skeptical in all the wrong ways and probably has the Michael Bolton Christmas album on her stereo at this very moment. She probably has eggnog in the fridge and will drink it without rum. She probably likes fruitcake and ham with pineapple rings on it. Mulder, going home to the shadows of his apartment where he might listen to Pink Floyd and nurse his resentment with three fingers of whiskey, feels justified in his scorn. A couple loaded with gifts pushes past him and he nearly loses his balance on a patch of black ice, clutches at a lamp post. He gazes up at the endless sky as snow begins to fall again. (Scully’s probably delighted by the prospect of a white Christmas, probably whistling a few bars of the song as she puts on a green sweater.) But he’s being unfair, isn’t he? For all her tattling back to the higher ups, she’s never tried to present herself as an angel. Her primary fault is in not being Diana, not being a tall dark moon goddess. Being pretty rather than beautiful, being frank rather than alluring. He’s seen her smoking a couple of times, discovered that she says “Jesus!” a lot so that she doesn’t say “fuck” or “shit.” This amuses him; he thought the blasphemy would be worse. He knows Scully watches what she eats but turns to carbohydrates and wine in times of stress. He found out she was sleeping with that asshole Jack Willis, which really threw him for a loop because Scully has a schoolteacherish quality that led him to presume premarital abstinence. He thinks of her in that first motel room, her smooth back beneath his hands, her panic turning on some masculine caveman switch. It’s been a long year, perhaps she could be his type after all despite her sensible underwear. She’s attractive enough if you like that sort of Hibernian look. He can tell she’s a bit awed by him and he could manipulate that to his advantage. Mulder walks the last slushy block thinking impious thoughts about Catholic school uniforms and playing doctor. The honeycomb tile of his building is muddied, layered with fragments of leaves and footprints. A radio blares something about Barbra Streisand doing her first live concert in twenty years. Mulder shakes his head and imagines his mother on the Vineyard, frothing with excitement. “Merry Christmas Agent Mulder,” says Leo, the maintenance guy. Leo’s got some kind of intellectual disability that Mulder hasn’t bothered to diagnose, but he’s always quick to replace a kicked-in lock or a shot-out window, and Mulder therefore regards him as a master craftsman. He gives Leo money every year at Christmas. At present he’s attacking the hallway sludge with an ancient mop. “Merry Christmas, Leo.” He gets his mail, sorting through it as he ambles to the elevator. Bill; bill; Playboy; Christmas cards from his doctor, dentist, and insurance agent; coupons; a thick manila envelope from the divorce attorney. Mulder rolls it all into a bundle and shoves it under his arm. He’s fumbling with his keys when the elevator deposits him on the fourth floor. There are wreaths on most of the doors in his building, a handful of mezuzas. Number 42, as usual, conforms to no given standard. He stops when he sees Scully leaning against his door. “Um,” he says. “Hey.” She waves her fingertips, looking uncomfortable. She’s holding a cardboard FedEx envelope. “I forgot to give you this before you left.” “Okay,” he says, uncertain about the idea of Scully on his turf. “Hang on a sec.” He makes sure the packet from the lawyer is hidden, though she’s probably heard the whole story. He knows what the talk is. They all act like he’s John fucking Douglas, like he can guess what number they’re thinking of based on how they part their hair. He’s a sideshow act, the guy who can think like John Roche and Monty Props. A freak. Scully turns to slouch against the wall while he jiggles the latest lock open, wishing there were a convenient place to stash a can of WD-40. “So, uh, come on in, I guess.” She turns, walks under his arm as he hold the door open, and stands in the entryway. The door clicks shut behind him, a final sound. Mulder puts his mail on the kitchen counter, tossing his coat over it. “You want anything to drink?” he calls to her, unsure if he can make good on the offer. What the hell does Scully drink? Tea? Zima? He’s got a few beers in the fridge, his wife’s wine is long finished. “No, I’m good.” Her coat’s draped over her arm when he comes back out, and he hangs it up for her. He notices that she’s wearing jeans with a navy cable-knit sweater, no tartan in sight. Her boots are dark and practical. Mulder shrugs off his jacket, loosens his tie out of its regulation noose. “Here, sit down. There’s, uh, the couch is right over there.” His couch is the atramentous green of algae, appearing black in the close room. “So what’s up?” She holds out the folder to him. “I realized I had this when I got home and since it’s a three day weekend, I wanted to make sure you had it. I thought it might be important.” Scully sits down close to the edge of the couch, much of her weight on her knees. She presses her hands together between them after Mulder takes the envelope, bouncing a little bit. He looks at the return address and groans. Arlinsky, that idiot from the Smithsonian. Mulder’s got enough credibility issues without this nutcase on his tail. He tosses the envelope on his cluttered desk for later perusal. Scully, as the messenger, looks apologetic. “Bad news?” He sits next to her, why not? “Nah, just…you know. The usual.” “Ah.” He watches her do a quick scan of his apartment. He has nothing to be ashamed of, she can look around. Mulder removes his tie completely now, untucks his shirt and leans into the corner of his couch. “So I’m surprised you’re here, Scully. I got the impression Christmas was a…thing. For your family.” He waves his hand vaguely, as though families are something he read about in a Margaret Mead article but never fully understood. Something closes in Scully’s face, which intrigues him. Discomfort usually comes with a good story, but he’ll tease it out of her later. She scratches her elbow, stalling. “I’m going to go by my parents’ house tomorrow.” “Not tonight? No big Scully celebration with stockings hung by the fire and cookies for Santa?” He has picked these ideas up from Oxford and Christmas music. Santa would probably prefer a cold longneck and some nachos. “My sister’s coming in tomorrow, she’s staying with my parents so they’re getting everything ready tonight. My younger brother and his family too, they’re getting in late.” Scully looks faintly guilty for this wealth of relatives. Which one of them are you avoiding, Dana? “Fun,” he says in a tone that he hopes is not sarcastic. Scully shrugs, picks at the cuff of her sweater. “Yeah, it’ll be good. I’ll get to see my niece and nephew. What about you? What are you doing?” “Oh, just…you know. Laying low.” He’s meeting up with the Gunmen for Chinese food and bootleg video games from some Japanese guy they know, but he’s not ready to tell Scully about them. In part because she might want to meet them and would end up charging Frohike with a sex crime. “Sounds good,” she says in a non-judgmental tone. “I could use some down time myself.” “Job wearing on you?” Going to wimp out and request a transfer? She puffs a breath of air out, pushes the tip of her tongue to her top lip. “No. Well, I mean, it’s hard. We travel so much, I didn’t do that before and it’s taking some adjustment.” Mulder drapes an arm over the back of the couch, wishing he could take his pants off and order a pizza. But he wants to know more about what drives her; Diana left him wary of unknown quantities, and this is his first opportunity to peer into Scully’s head. “Yeah, I guess they mostly shipped the cadavers to you before, huh? When you were doing doctor things?” He sees a slight narrowing of her eyes at this, the implication that she’s not a doctor now. The fact that she took it as an insult means it’s a vulnerability. “Mostly.” He decides to push it, being as he has home field advantage. “How come you decided to stop practicing medicine?” Scully sits up straight, her palms on the tops of her thighs. “I didn’t realize I had.” Prickly. “Oh, sorry, no offense. I just….you left your residency to join the FBI, right?” Faker, he knows her career trajectory down to the day. “My work as a Special Agent has always revolved around my background in forensic pathology. I just felt…called to the FBI as the place to best put those skills to use.” Called, religious imagery. Interesting. Her reply had a rehearsed sound, it’s something she’s repeated numerous times. Who gives her grief about being an FBI agent? A younger brother wouldn’t, would probably look up to that. Mom or Dad, most likely, though it could be one of the older siblings. He’d put his money on Dad or big brother based on the cold formality of her words. Both men are in the military, she’d speak to that. And big brother wasn’t mentioned as being in town, so Dad it is. He throws her a bone for revealing so much. “I’ve heard nothing but commendations.” “Thanks.” The appreciation seems genuine. “So what about you, Mulder? Why….this?” Scully holds her arms out like an orchestra conductor. The gesture encompasses his desk, the groaning bookshelves and fading newspaper clippings. Area 51, Reticulans, ectoplasm, and jackalopes. “Study hard what interests you the most in the most undisciplined, irreverent and original manner possible,” he quotes. “Feynman.” Scully knows her physicists. “It’s the perfect con, really. I figured out a way to get the federal government to pay for my hobbies.” He hopes that will satisfy her, but knows better. “Why is it your hobby?” Ah, Scully. You little investigator, you. “I’m a lousy knitter.” She smiles. “Because of your sister?” He steeples his fingertips, taps them against his chin. It’s tempting to blow her off, but he considers the implications of her presence. There was no reason to bring that letter by; she could have called and he could have told her to round-file it. She’s trying to build something between them, she’s looking past his annoyance with her assignment and he’s not going to slap her hand away on Christmas Eve. “Hold that thought,” he says. Mulder goes to the kitchen for the beers and the churchkey magnet stuck to the freezer. He checks for food, but a cursory examination reveals that Scully is going to have to make do with some brews. She’s peering into the fish tank when he returns, scrutinizing the inhabitants. “I think one of your mollies is pregnant,” she says. “That spotted one.” “Yeah, they’re prolific little cannibals. Here, Scully. Have a drink.” He holds the bottle out to her when she turns, watches her hesitate for an instant before accepting. “Thanks,” she says. “Though I probably shouldn’t.” She pops the lid off when he’s done with the opener. Takes a long drink. “So,” he says, returning to his seat on the couch. “Why do I spend my time looking for ET and yetis, right?” Scully rolls the bottle between her palms. “It’s hard for me to understand why someone with your abilities chooses to use those gifts this way.” Once she rides out this dogleg, Mulder thinks, she’ll go far in the Bureau with her careful diplomacy. “When my sister was…taken, it was the first time that none of the authority figures in my life had an answer. Not my parents, my teachers, the police…no one could tell me what had happened. Years went by and there was still no solution. People stopped thinking about it, you know? They just acted like she was gone and that’s all there was to it.” “But not you.” Her voice is gentle. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that this was a question with an answer, even if no one wanted to delve deeper into what that answer was. I became, well, obsessed with the idea that there were all of these mysteries out there with answers that people were uncomfortable finding. So when I found the X-Files…” He glances sidelong at his partner, her nutmeg freckles and her cinnamon hair. “Isn’t that what you were doing already, though? Solving impossible cases?” He shrugs. “They weren’t impossible. They followed a pattern if you knew what to look for. But what I do now, no one wants the answer, Scully. That’s the real challenge.” “You caught Monty Props. Props, Jesus, that case is legendary! I want to understand, I do. I see what you’re saying about the challenge, it does make a kind of sense. But when I think about the people you stopped…” She shakes her head. She doesn’t get it. But she’s trying instead of dismissing him. That’s something. “That’s just it. Your reaction, it’s…look. Serial killers, they’re sexy. The public loves them. Everyone wants to be Bill Patterson or, or… Jack Crawford, right? People still read about Jack the Ripper, they practically turn these psychopaths into folk heroes. There will never be a shortage of people wanting to do what I did.” Half the beer is gone in his next swallow. Scully looks thoughtful, her thumbnail at the damp corner of the label on her bottle. “So this is like, what? Like a martyr thing? If you walk away from the limelight for this then it makes up for never knowing what happened to your sister?” She turns her head to give him a level gaze, her eyes so blue and clear they seem artificial at times. He’s been called worse than a martyr, but somehow it stings. “Martyr? That’s condescending.” “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry. I just, I guess it’s hard for me to understand what you hope to gain. What all this means to you in the end.” Mulder’s had enough of her analysis. “I’m not like you, I don’t crave approval.” It’s her turn to look stung. “I didn’t mean to pry.” He sighs. “Your questions aren’t unfair. It’s been a hard year.” “I heard.” There’s sympathy in her tone and he tries not to resent it. “Listen, Scully, I know you didn’t ask for this assignment and you’re doing your best with a bad hand. It’s just hard to share a career I’m passionate about with someone who pretty clearly thinks it’s a waste of time.” Scully sets her beer on the coffee table, resting her elbows on her knees, her hands cupped around her chin. Mulder props his feet up next to her bottle, patient in the silence. There are deep shadows in the room, illuminated by the ambient streetlight through the curtains, the cool blue aquarium lamp. Puddles of light leak from the kitchen, but they barely stain the rug. Scully looks like a Hitchcock girl, white and pure, untouched by the surrounding gloom. She reminds him of Ingrid Bergman or Greta Garbo, her good bones and heavy-lidded eyes. “You know,” Scully says, muffled, “Pathology’s hardly the hottest specialty in med school. It’s not really seen as a place to make a career.” “The malpractice can’t be bad though, right?” She rolls her eyes. “You spend years of your life learning to care for the living and use it to examine the dead. People have…opinions about that.” This had not occurred to him, and he says as much. Scully sits up and settles back into the couch. “And to then take that to the FBI, well…” Full circle to the truth. “Lots of grief for that?” She shrugs. “From some more than others. My dad, he – look, Mulder. I’m not saying we’re in the same place or have the same ideas or that we’re both noble misunderstood renegades. I am not trying to oversimplify anything. I’m just telling you that I know what it’s like to care deeply about something that other people don’t necessarily understand.” She looks defensive after this, takes a fierce swig of her beer. Mulder eyes her up with a new appreciation. “I guess I just figured all doctors sit on pedestals.” “If so, some of the pedestals are much higher than others. I know you don’t like me, Mulder. Or at least you don’t like our partnership. We may never be friends, I realize that. But it’s been three quarters of a year, you have to let your guard down if we’re going to work together. I want what you want, answers to these questions.” He smiles at her. A real smile, and thinks that it’s been a long time since he’s done it. “But you still think I’m spooky.” Scully smiles back. “Absolutely. And I still don’t believe in aliens. Or yetis. Or missing time or vampires or Nessie. But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe there are answers.” He scratches his chin, five o’clock shadow rough on his fingertips. Maybe she’s not so bad, this gingery little doctor. “I did say I wanted a challenge.” “You did at that.” She returns her bottle to the table, then turns to face him. The aquarium provides a ghostly backlight, her hair gleaming like rubbed copper. He holds this image of Scully in his mind until it is indelible, then tucks it away to remember her by. The Rhetorica ad Herennium advises sensory encoding to aid in recall, and so he places her in the sunlit portrait gallery of his memory palace. Scully stands, crosses the room to take her coat from the rack. “I’m sorry the letter wasn’t good news.” Mulder gets up to join her. “It’s okay.” He squints when she opens the door, the hallway so bright it hurts his eyes. “Thanks for bringing it by.” “Okay, well, I’ll see you on Monday, I guess.” She seems hesitant to go. She probably feels sorry for him. “Thanks for the drink. And the company.” “Go,” he says. “You don’t want coal in your stocking for oversleeping tomorrow.” She laughs a little, then takes his hands in her small white ones. She gives them a squeeze. “This is going to be okay, Mulder.” He thinks she might be right, squeezes back. She lets go of him, walks out and turns right. He locks up behind her, her perfume still lingering on his side of the door. Diana’s not coming home. It’s time that he moved on.

#my fic #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #season 1 #new years eve

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 2488

the dentist was really nice. the place is clean and open and honestly looks like a classy hotel lobby. it's pretty great. i have appointments for getting two fillings (thankfully i haven't gotten any more since i last went, which is frankly hard to believe) and my cleaning done. so that's good. i'm excited.

went back to joel's after that, i sat down and worked on physics some more. talked to dr noah, talked about unh and scheduling and if i had any questions, and after we were done, i went back to physics. i ended up finishing it all today. i just kind of went ham on it all in one go and i'm pretty proud of myself for getting it all done before my desired due date.

we had stained glass class tonight, too, and i picked out the glass i wanted to use, and we cut out our patterns and i cut all of my pieces out and i was able to get half of them ground down! next week i'll finish grinding and then put the metallic edge on it, so i can finally solder them together the following week. i'm happy with how it's turning out. i'll have to take pictures of it, because i'm very proud of it, and i'm very excited to give it to kimmy and nathon as a gift from me and joel and clan sussenberger. :)

lisa and i got dinner at the 99 and it bothered me that so many people weren't wearing masks. i'll watch things that were made years ago and i'll panic and think, "oh my god where are their MASKS, why are they so CLOSE to each other." the trauma is real, y'all.

anyway, dinner and dessert and then we went to hannaford's to pick up a few things. there was a man who asked for assistance in how to pick a ripe pineapple, and he was an absolute riot. his name was kirk, and he reminded me a lot of my papa. he was funny and very nice.

lisa also got me flowers! she let me pick out a bouquet and i picked one of gerbera daisies because they're my favorites. they're pink and yellow and i love them and i'm so happy. she got them for me as a gift for my graduation.

and speaking of graduation, they gave us all alumni sweatshirts after the ceremony and i discovered that the sweatshirt has TWO pockets instead of just one kangaroo pocket. it has a smaller one on the right on the inside of the bigger pocket so you can put your phone or whatever in it. i love it.

got back to the house, i put the flowers in a vase and smiled at them a lot. i went and sat next to joel and just kinda chilled for a bit as he and the idiot squad finished up their game. after they left, joel and i ended up watching two and a half episodes of man in the high castle. which is so good.

but i am home now, because i have laundry to do in the morning because i'm out of thighs i wear. so laundry first, then homework, switch laundry? homework, switch laundry, shower, out or some shit at that point.

i'm excited to get to see joel tomorrow: tomorrow is his birthday!! i finally get to give him the gifts i got him back in like, february. i'm excited for him to open them. he's also been a little more affectionate and it is really nice.

but yeah. i just really want sleep.

#molly rambles #operation srr #osrr #2000s #2400s #sunshine boy

[awhiskeyriver]

Hi friend!! could we get some harvard peeta/the challenge sneak peaks if you have time! your fics have been giving me company during these pandemic times :D

Hello there!

I wish I had some harvard!peeta to share with you all but unfortunately real life has really gotten in the way of writing these last couple of weeks. I’ve been slowly finding my groove again and working on whatever is inspiring me just to keep me going. So, I’ve been trying to focus on The Challenge for now.

Since I haven’t included Madge in the sneak peeks yet, here’s a bit of a scene between her and Gale. Unedited, all mistakes are mine. Enjoy :)

If you missed the other previews, you can read them here and here.

                                                              +++

    “Are you short circuiting?”

    I blinked, remembering where I was and that Madge Undersee was staring at me with amusement in her eyes from out in the front of house. 

    “What?”

    “You looked so deep in thought. I didn’t realize ham was so interesting.”

    “Shut up,” I muttered, going back to cutting and decidedly ignoring her giggles.

    “So, question,” she said, jumping up on the counter and letting her feet swing.

    “Shoot.”

    “What conditioner do you use?” 

    “Fuck you.” Despite myself, I couldn’t help the breathy laugh that escaped with the words. She was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

    “No, seriously.” She was laughing, too. “A girl could use some help. Winter is just around the corner and my hair gets so dry. You have ringlets for god sake.”

    “Knock it off.” I peeled my gloves off and turned my ponytail into a bun behind my head, away from her scrutinizing eyes. “Jesus, you’re annoying.”

    “The hair gods have blessed you,” she continued, oblivious to my insults. “It should be a sin for a boy to have hair as luscious as yours.”

    I snorted, and for one blissful moment she was actually quiet.

    I turned away from her, busying myself in the kitchen so I could get everything packaged up before the end of the night. Definitely wasn’t trying to stick around later than necessary. Still had a shit ton of homework to finish and practice at the ass crack of dawn that I’d need to be bright eyed and bushy tailed for. Coach would have my ass if he knew where I was right now...

    Madge’s silence was short lived. I’d only just gotten a few things straightened up when I heard her exhale another question.

    “So for real, what’s your secret?”

    “You’re really not going to drop this, are you?”

    “It’s not likely.”

    “Truth or dare.” I changed the subject suddenly, distracting her with our new game. And despite her narrowed eyes she took the bait. I watched her bite on her puckered lower lip, mulling over her options.

    “Truth.”

    “Weenie.”

    “Dare.”

    “You can’t change your answer,” I retorted, and she rolled her eyes.

    “So truth, then.”

     “Why’d you pick pre-med as your major?”   

    “Really? And I’m the weenie? What kind of truth question is that?” she challenged.

    “I’m easing you in.”

    Her lips twisted up, coyly and she absently twirled a piece of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. 

    “I’ve always been good at science. Biology fascinated me and I want to help people.”

    “You know doctors have the highest suicide rates, right?”

    She frowned. “You’re thinking of dentists.”

    “Dentists are doctors.”

    “Not the kind I want to be.”

    “So what kind of doctor do you want to be?”

    “I don’t know yet,” she mused. There was this thing she did, when she thought hard about something. Her eyes tilted up towards the ceiling and her lips pursed to one side. “But, I have time to figure it out.”

    I grunted in reply, but it wasn’t enough to deter conversation. She kept right on talking about how her parents had urged her into the pre-med major and how she was their only child and felt pressured to succeed.

    “What, they’d cut you off or something if you didn’t become a doctor?” I asked, wrapping up some of the meat to store away in the fridge.

    Madge’s eyes widened behind her thick glasses, and she shook her head so furiously that thick ponytail nearly whacked her in the face.

    “No. Nothing like that.” She looked frazzled that my mind had even gone there. “They would never. I just don’t want to disappoint them. They’ve set aside so much money for me to go to college and they’re so proud. I don’t want to let them down.”

    Huh. That was nice, actually. And I found myself wishing I had even the slightest idea of how to relate to what she was talking about. 

    “Well, enough about me,” she sighed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Your turn. Truth or dare?” 

    “Dare.” Duh.

    “I dare you to tell me what conditioner you use.”

#anon #ask #fanfic #the challenge #the panem nightlocks series #i hope you enjoy <3 #these are rough times we're living in #hopefully ill have *something* full length up soon

[passivenovember]

tag game: 50 Q’s

I’m so sorry that you have to hear about me AGAIN like ugh will this bitch ever shut up! Thank you to my darling @coffeeandchemicals for tagging me, you are an angel and a scholar.

1. What color is your hairbrush? I’m a black girl so I use a purple wide toothed comb to detangle. It’s hecate’s gift to mankind <3

2. Name a food you’d never eat: I’m not picky but HAM AND BEANS. That’s a midwestern thing, i think, but I would rather keel over.

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? Too cold. I’m cold now and I’ll be cold later.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago: slaving over Halloween decorations.

5. What’s your favorite candy bar? I don’t really like candy!

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? No, and I don’t want to.

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? It was her cat, Salem. Well he’s not really a cat, he’s a goblin and masquerades as an animal.

8. What’s your favorite ice cream? Chocolate almond <3

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? Water yum yum 

10. Do you like your wallet? Could use more money, but. It’s a lovely plum color. I carry my travel sewing kit inside the coin pocket

11. What was the last thing you ate? I had a cookie, which is kind of unheard of for me

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? Yes! I got a pair of Halloween pajamas and they’re fucking EVERYTHING

13. What’s the last sporting event you watched? My partner is watching the NBA finals, so. I watched the Miami heat game against my will.

14. What’s your favorite flavor of popcorn? Cheese. I am cheesy, so it works out

15. Who was the last person you sent a text message to? My friend Mady. Love her

16. Ever been camping? Yeah, fuckin’ love it. About to disappear into the woods and y’all will never hear from me again!

17. Do you take vitamins? Yup. B6, B12, Iron supplements for the anemia. Also a women’s multivitamin because breast cancer runs in my family.

18. Do you regularly attend a place of worship? Fuck organized religion. I do practice witchcraft, however.

19. Do you have a tan? I am tan :P

20. Do you prefer Chinese or pizza? Pizza omg

21. Do you drink your soda through a straw? yup, I’m a lil fairy boy.

22. What color socks do you usually wear? Halloween socks. I have a trillion pairs. Told you I was corny.

23. Do you ever drive over the speed limit? No, I’m a loser and an extremely cautious driver. It’s kind of a problem.

24. What terrifies you? Relying on people too much.

25. Look to your left, what do you see? My jewelry box. It was a present from my parents for Kwanzaa. It has bats on it <3

26. What core do you hate most? Grocery shopping, it gives me so much anxiety. I will do ANYTHING to get out of entering a supermarket and that includes blowing the driver of Amazon fresh if it comes to that.

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? The dentist from Finding Nemo.

28. What’s your favorite soda? Sprite if I’m mad, Root beer if I’m bad

29. Do you go in a fast food place or hit the drive thru? Wait, people go inside? I thought that was a joke.

30. What’s your favorite number? Number 8

31. Who’s the last person you talked to? My partner.

32. Favorite cut of beef? I don’t like red meat really. Whatever burgers are made from?

33. Last song you listened to? The monster mash 

34. Last book you read? Credible Witness, it’s a book of paranormal police stories. I’ve read 46 books this year!

35. Favorite day of the week? Tuesday because I have a day off.

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? I’m dyslexic, I can barely say it the regular way, wym?

37. How do you like your coffee? I’m more of a tea person. Rice milk and peppermint with a dash of rosemary.

38. Favorite pair of shoes? I have so many shoes. Maybe my demonia bat creepers or platform boots? Who knows.

39. Time you normally get up? 5 in the morning.

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunset? Sunset. Gorgeous.

41. How many blankets on your bed? Three. I like my room cold.

42. Describe your kitchen plates? Halloween plates (are you noticing a theme?) and these beautiful ceramic things my grandad got in Korea in the 80s.

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment? All my decorations are Halloween themed all year round. Clean--I like a clean kitchen. Can’t function in a messy space.

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? Moscow mule with extra lime.

45. Do you play cars? No but I read tarot!

46. What color is your car? Silver. 

47. Can you change a tire? yes, my grandad made sure I could do things on my own before I moved out.

48. Your favorite country? Scotland. I miss living there so much.

49. Favorite job you’ve had? Working at the Omaha zoo. Our zoo is the best in the world, and I got to spend hours outside working with kids. Teaching about conservation and animals. I miss it--I was supposed to head a new wildlife in theatre branch but then I got laid off because of covid. I miss my job so much, im boutta cry thinking about it now.

50. I tag: @liglitterbug @shewritesdirty this is long as hell so don’t feel obligated!

#im boring #thanks for reading tho

[silverhyenaart]

When You’re Evil

So this is something I wrote this morning for chapter 6 of Sometimes All You Need is a Friend. My first time doing a bit of a “song-fic” I do believe it’s called. I’ve got up to chapter 4 posted, if you’re curious.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26085514/chapters/63447325

Anyways, I hope you’ll get a kick out of this. I have so much fun writing Robotnik.

***

Needless to say, after months of living off the land with nothing more than the scraps he could carry and the clothes on his back, Robotnik found himself greatly enjoying the half-demon's generosity. Room service, an actual bed, and air conditioning! Sweet, merciful air conditioning. Now, perhaps he'd over indulged on his use of the shower and private in-suite hot tub, (not to mention sleeping in well past noon,) but after being marooned for nearly a year on that fungus-riddled hellhole, the doctor let his inhibitions slip a little. After all, he was still only a human. A flawed, organic human.

“Ahhh... that almost felt as good as revenge. Almost.”

The scientist's hair was still damp and messy from having run a towel through it. Refreshed from the best night's sleep he'd had in a while and a much needed shower, Robotnik returned to work. Plotting his revenge could be just as much fun as actually carrying it out. He tapped a few times on his wrist-mounted device, taking a seat at the desk where the laptop sat on the charger. It synced up with the laptop, funneling over all of the information Robotnik could dig up on the town of Green Hills and their beloved Sheriff Wachowski. Somehow, the mad doc knew that man would have to play a part in whatever scheme he cooked up. Thomas Wachowski was willing to put his life on the line for that silly little alien. And Sonic in turn trusted that man with his. Love and trust. How human. How flawed!

“How easy to exploit!” sneered the scientist as he smirked, chuckling with glee.

Normally this was where Robotnik would spin his chair around with his arms outstretched and head tilted back while laughing, but it wasn't the kind of chair that did that. Sighing, he stood up, swiping the TV remote off the stand. He really missed his gloves; literally having the universe at his fingertips. With any luck, they'd still be inside his mobile lab with the rest of his gear and machine army.

“Until then, I guess I have to settle for using this, like a caveman.”

Robotnik snorted again; already he was adapting back into his old way of life pretty fast. Only the finer things would do to please him. (And he was a difficult man to please.) However, while scrolling through some music options of the TV to break the silence, the scientist thought long and hard about the first procedure he'd conduct on that speedy blue rat. Complete dissection was a thought, but that would also mean it would all be over too quickly. No, no, that alien was an intelligent being (not as much as he, of course,) but intelligence meant there was capacity for learning. It was still an animal. Animals could be trained. With the right leverage, Robotnik knew he could have that creature eating out of his hand if he so commanded it!

-When the Devil is too busy and death is a bit too much,- began playing on the television, causing the most evil smile to spread across his face.

Of course! While chasing that silly little creature and his cop babysitter across multiple states, the scientist had crafted various restraints and containment units for the event of a live capture. Provided none of the government gremlins had tampered with his rolling laboratory, all of the equipment should still be on board.

-To the gentlemen I'm Miss Fortune. To the ladies I'm Sir Prize,-

After checking the status of his research downloads, he couldn't help but move to the dark, brooding music that slowly became more frantic that filled the room. It just felt so... perfect. So “him”. Every step had that overcoat of his flowing behind him like a shadowy cloak.

“And it's so easy when you're evil! This is the life, you see. The Devil tips his hat to me!”

Robotnik mouthed along to the song, a finalized version of his plan already solidifying in his genius mind. Yes, all he needed was the right motivation for the creature. After all, he already knew it would do anything to prevent it's favorite human from being harmed. Then, with that blue alien's vast power properly harnessed and under his control, the mad doctor knew that he'd be unstoppable!

'Oh Tom who's dentist calls him Tim, one way or another, you're going to help me!' he found himself thinking, all the while his slick dance moves picked up in intensity.

Honestly, he hadn't been able to dance like this in a while. (Mushrooms were more judgmental then one might think.) Engrossed in his own evil plots and lavishing in Voltaire's lyrics, Robotnik didn't see the portal opening up behind him, nor the red-clad demoness stepping through with a smirk on her face.

-I'll be there, I'll be waiting 'round the corner,-

“It's a game. I'm glad I'm in it. 'Cause there's one born every minute!” came Riley's voice.

Upon realizing that he was suddenly in a duet, Robotnik turned around and let out a surprised and embarrassingly girly scream. Fumbling with the remote still in his hand, he quickly turned off the TV, stopping the music all while trying to save face.

“I'm not interrupting anything, am I?” questioned the half-demon.

“Nothing, Miss Prescott,” Robotnik sputtered, as he recomposed himself, “Let's make it an order for you NOT to sneak up on me like that! I was immersed in my research!”

At that exact moment, both the laptop and his wrist-mounted device made a little noise, indicating that the file transfer was complete. Robotnik's eyes shifted to the computer, then back to Riley.

“Oh yes, of course. So tell me, Herr Doktor, is one of your five PHDs in,” Riley began, before gracefully spinning around, letting her red silk gown flow while twirling her spear, “dance?”

Robotnik just frowned when the elegantly dressed fiend stopped in front of him, “I refuse to dignify that with an answer.”

Sighing and rolling her eyes, Riley straightened up, then gestured to the still open portal with the tip of her spear, “Well, I hope that you haven't gotten too comfortable here, Herr Doktor. Your grand chariot awaits.”

Looking through the dimensional rift, Robotnik felt his eyes grow wide. In all honesty, he had a difficult time calculating the odds of the half-demoness' success. But parked out in the desert, far away from prying eyes, was the massive black custom built semi and trailer.

Grabbing his half finished and by now lukewarm latte, the scientist stepped through the portal. Riley waved her hand once, causing the laptop to dissipate in a cloud of black mist before following after her employer. Now, the mid-afternoon Nevada sun wasn't exactly the most forgiving. However, it no longer bothered Robotnik as much as it might have in the past.

***

I know there are mixed feelings on the “Robotnik dance scene”. Personally, it was Jim Carrey being an amazing ham and I loved it. So, I thought of this. I absolutely LOVE “When You’re Evil” by Voltaire and could totally see Robotnik rocking out to that song. Here’s a link to it on YouTube, it’s amazing.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tWYCS6k1IOA&list=WL&index=42&t=0s

Of course, I claim no ownership. This is strictly fan-writing/for fun.

(It could have been worse, it could have been the “Mustache Song” from A Million Ways to Die in the West.)

#robotnik #Ivo Robotnik #Dr. Robotnik #Sonic #Sonic 2020 #Sonic Fanfic #song fic attempt #when you're evil #Voltaire is freaking awesome #I love this song #writing #she actually did it #Robotnik is not impressed with Riley's advances

[oreolesbian]

my fav borhap moments

- during the Top of the Pops performance where roger hits the fake cymbal with the most devastated™️ look

- brian’s mocking accent: “we’re the BBC”

- “CAMERA TWO! ABOVE THE WAIST!”

- *freddie shopping* “do they have this in my size?” “freddie this is the ladies section”

- the band just barging in on freddie’s marriage proposal and brian’s, “hi mary, how’s your dad?”

- *chicken screaming* “GALILEO”

- “nOT THE COFFEE MACHINE”

- “when my hand is on your grease gun? that’s very subtle isn’t it?” “IT’S A METAPHOR BRIAN”

- just the whole band making fun of roger and his car kink™️

- *kenny on the radio* “ladies and ladies”

- the wayne’s world reference

- “who even is galileo?”

- john getting the shittiest bedroom and just accepting it with a sigh cause he doesn’t get the respect he deserves

- ROGERINA

- *freddie with a new haircut and mustache* “what do you think?” *roger shrugging* “gayer?” “no, roger the house”

- “what do you guys think of david?” *prolonged silence* “he’s a nice chap” “i think he’s gay”

- freddie just taking the liberty to name jim beach, miami because jim was just too darn boring

- “it goes on forever, six bloody minutes” “i pity your wife if you think six minutes is forever”

- *freddie literally talking to his fiancé who he hasn’t spoken to in a while* “how are the cats?”

- “you look like an angry lizard”

- freddie’s parents asking if jim hutton was a ‘work friend’

- freddie blowing his mom a kiss during live aid

- “what even is a rhapsody?” “it’s an epic poem”

- freddie’s mom handing out his baby pics to the band and freddie just yeeting out of the room to play piano

- the entire live aid performance AHHHHHH

- “ready freddie?”

- the ‘ay-oh’ of solidarity between freddie and another patient when he got his hiv diagnosis

- “do you know how many jim hutton’s there are in london?”

- “roger there’s only room in this band for one hysterical queen”

- *shatters a window* “you can take that out of our loyalties you twat!”

- “no one likes opera” “i like opera”

- the OUTFITS

- “i want to throw a party” “who are we inviting?” “PEOPLE”

- the picture of fred and jim in the credits

- brian kicking freddie out of the room just cause he felt like it

- gwilym lee, aka time-traveling brian may

- “’oh where’s madonna?’”

- freddie playing opera music and throwing shit everywhere while the band dances along

- “how many more galileo’s do you want?”

- accurate broke college student™️ representation when the boys literally sell their van to afford a recording session

- “i think you’ve got to turn it clockwise john” “DO YOU WANT TO DO IT?”

- “we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere and i’m eating a ham sandwich”

- “i’ve got better things to do on a saturday night. i can name them.”

- “higher” “if i go any higher only dogs will hear me” “HIGHER” “my nuts are literally in my chest”

- tired mom™️ deaky literally playing the riff of ‘another one bites the dust’ just to break up a fight

- “i can sing” “not with those teeth mate” *sings* “i’ll think about your offer”

- THE CATS

- freddie jumping into a chair and spilling champagne everywhere

- the entire “ay-oh” sequence from live aid and me screaming it along with freddie

- the boys getting so into recording ‘bohemian rhapsody’ that they all just fucking topple over each other

- freddie smacking brian’s ass during ‘fat bottomed girls’ and screaming, “he’s got one too!”

- every. single. concert. montage.

- cutting to a frowning ray foster during the live aid performance on the line ‘no time for losers’

- “you’re a legend fred.” “you’re bloody right i’m a legend. we’re all legends...but you are right i am a legend.”

- brian “i was born with this hair” may

- *freddie having mary translate to her deaf father* “tell your dad you’re an epic shag.” “freddie he can read lips”

- *reporter asking freddie if one of his song lyrics implies that he has multiple partners* “you should ask rog that”

- *reporter trying to imply that freddie might be sick* *john leaning in* “i had a cold once”

- “what are you doing after this?” “homework”

- “take 26 of fred’s...thing”

- “roger’s a dentist” “nO i’m not”

- “an astrophysicist, so you’re the smart one” *brian smirking at roger* “yes, yes i am”

- “i fired paul” “under what pretext?” “villainy”

- “we’ve made our decision...what’s our decision again?”

- “miami will be our new manager” “no i won’t” *the band starts playing ‘another one bites the dust’* “FINE I’LL DO IT”

- “freddie fucking mercury”

- the experimental music session

- brian, john, and roger deliberately being late to meet freddie to tease him about his always being late

- “so roger, what exactly is the sexiest part of a car?”

- “what lyrics are these? you call me sweet...like i’m some kind of cheese”

- “it’s not disco. it’s queen.”

- jim and freddie’s relationship despite the little screen time they had

- the look™️ john and brian share when freddie interacts with the crowd during live aid

- roger and his gong

- “we’ll punch a hole right through the roof of that stadium” “actually wembley doesn’t have a roof” “then we’ll punch a hole through the sky”

- *brian teaching the stomp clap pattern for ‘we will rock you’* *john gives a look™️* “brilliant”

- “roger’s arguments. brian’s rewrites...deaky’s funny looks”

- freddie all up on the camera man during live aid

- the invention of the broken mic stand

- “HUMPY BONG???”

- “my voice sounds like a vulture’s crotch”

- *freddie warming up* *turns to his cats* “what? you think you can do any better? everyone’s a critic.”

- “it’s just a bit weird roger. what exactly are you doing with that car?”

- “here with their new single, ‘i’m in love with my car’!” “other side” “oh, ‘bohemian rhapsody’!”

- the montage of all the bad reviews ‘bohemian rhapsody’ got

- “every band wants more” “every band’s not queen”

- “i sound like shit, do it again” “okay, it’s your money” *tired john* “literally”

- BISMILLAH BULLSHIT

- rami malek

more fav parts

#bohemian rhapsody #please add more #i think i got almost everything #the whole movie was one favorite moment tbh #every joke about roger and the car thing though was peak cinema™️ #queen #long post #bohemian rhapsody spoilers #can you spoil a biopic? #oh well #tagging anyhow

[nice-bright-colors]

So tomorrow is Christmas. To us it is Laundry Day, or Give Jack A Bath Day. I’m being told there will be some extra curricular activities- but I’ll believe it when it actually happens.

My Sister was kind enough to invite my Father over to her house tomorrow. I’m pretty sure he is bringing a ham for them, as she doesn’t cook. Trust me, she has fucked up ham before in the past, and all one has to do is heat it up. My guess is she is trying to break him into their Christmas routine of doing nothing all day long, since next year this time they will all be living under one roof.

It would have been nice to get an invite, at least to politely decline. Or not so politely, and say we’re just going to stay here and (allegedly) fuck.

Seeing some old friends, a couple of dentist appointments, some Chiropractic adjustments for her, and my buddies wedding - has been stretched across 15 days. It really is too long of a visit, and I just want to be done with it. Being back at the (Temp) Home is not making me a happy camper. Stress levels and sleep deprivation have exceeded the roof again.

Splendid Isolation is what I wanted, and what I had for a short time. I guess this is what I deserve for being the person that I am.

It just kinda hurts a little bit that:

My college friend, who is over extended on the details of his own wedding doesn’t talk to me, or his own brother...he talks to my Wife

My Sister doesn’t really talk or plan anything with me anymore...she just texts my Wife, and lets her husband make all the poor choices

My Father doesn’t ever really talk to me beyond the standard pleasantries, but he talks to my Wife....and shows more affection to my dog than ever before

My Dog is more inclined to ignore me when I’m here, and yet jump to the window every time a car goes by thinking it’s my Wife coming home

So if you are lucky enough to have family that still cares, please enjoy their company tomorrow. If you no longer have family, I’m sorry, I’m missing some of mine as well. If you have family that are emotionally unavailable to you, or ones that no longer engage your intellectual side, I’ll raise my glass and drink to your sanity, and mine, and theirs, and Uncle Albert’s, and the neighbors’ across the street, and Cousin Ginny.....you get the point.

Cheers.

#next year - no family at all #next year - noodles and documentary television about serial killers #next year - always next year

[purplesurveys]

634

What's the song that makes you want to dance? I grew up from the 2000s to part of the 2010s, so I think I’d dance along to almost any dance bop that got put out during that period. Right now, the first songs that came to mind were Gaga’s Poker Face and Walk the Moon’s Shut Up and Dance. Have you ever called yourself a gangsta? I probably stupidly did when I was a kid. It was a popular term, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I used it to refer to myself. Do you use push pins or tape to keep things on your wall? I just use tape. I don’t have bulletin boards that have the brown material that would let me use push pins. How old do people guess you are? I reguarly get guesses between 17-20. So pretty close, and I also get to feel good because they think I’m younger than I actually am hahaha. Does it annoy you if they guess too high? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a >21 guess.

Use any styling products in your hair? Nope, I just use good ol’ shampoo and conditioner. What is your favorite energy drink? I don’t take energy drinks. They smell scarily sweet and I don’t know what it can do to my body. Have you ever snuck out of your house? If I ever did, it was in the daytime and not done in a rebellious way at all. I remember when my younger school bus mates Yanna and Lex surprise-visited me at home for my 18th birthday, then they invited me to go out and walk to their houses so I did. That’s probably been the most sneaking out I’ve ever done. Describe your clock in the bedroom: I don’t have a clock in my bedroom because I’m already okay with my phone and laptop’s clocks. Do you chew on your cuticles (the skin under your nail)? I’ve never done that. I didn’t even know that was possible. Do you feel like you found your place in the world? I’m only 21, I’m still on my way there. I’m fitting in okay, though. What is your dream job? I have several. Astronaut, surgeon, veterinarian, and lawyer are the more notable ones. At one point I also wanted to be a psychologist, then I realized how much it would ask of me mentally, so I had to put that ~dream away. When did you last go to the bathroom? Around 15 minutes ago when I woke up from my nap. Where does the 'magic happen' in your house? I don’t know what this means, but based on context clues I’m going to assume this is referring to sex – and it’s a little disgusting to answer the question of where my family members have sex in the house :/ Do you have pens that don't work, but you still keep them? I have a G-Tec that I haven’t thrown away even though it’s so close to running out of ink. I keep planning on buying refills for it, but I always either am too far from a bookstore, or I entirely forget about needing refills when I’m already in or near a bookstore. What do you use your lotion for? Primarily, it’s for when my arms or legs are feeling dry. Sometimes, if there’s no perfume lying around, I’d put lotion on my face as well to mask the smell that comes along with drinking. Do you own some sort of MP3 player? No. I had a fake MP5 (but it was a cool fake product because it was able to store music, photos, and videos, and had a collection of vintage Nintendo games). Being fake, it didn’t have the best lifespan so shortly after my parents got me an iPod Nano, and I guess that counts as an MP3 player? If so, do you ever leave the house without it? If not, do you want one? We weren’t allowed to bring gadgets to school, so it was a while before I felt brave enough to sneak my Nano into the school bus and proceed to hide it all day while in school. When I got used to it, I brought it everyday. Is love a labor to you? It can sometimes feel a bit of a chore especially if we’re both being stubborn. If love was a labor, would you join a union? Ohhhhh...you mean THAT kind of labor...what the hell dude? Who are your friends? I have lots of them, but one thing that’s for sure is that my friends are either ones I’ve kept since high school, or friends I met during college. What do you consider a friend? I should be comfortable with them and our senses of humor must meet at least on a few points. It doesn’t have to be completely the same, but it would help if we had one or two things to laugh over together. Have you ever had your nails painted black? Yeah, as a teenager. I had each nail painted half-black and half-pink, because that was AJ Lee’s style back in like 2013 and it. was. huuuuuuuuge. I got a few stares in public and I do realize now how silly it must have been and looked like, but I was genuinely happy with how it turned out and comfortable enough to have worn that style of nail polish in public, which says a lot. Is your room messy? I didn’t make the bed earlier so yep, I’d say it’s messy.  What would you do if you were mugged on the street? Scream as loud as I can to attract attention. Have you ever done a Mad Libs? No.  Does a persons dominant hand actually affect the age they'll die? I doubt it. When is the last time you skinned your knee? More than a decade ago. This would happen to me almost everyday because I was a clumsy kid and would trip every single time I was allowed to play outside. Do you own a flashlight? Yeah, it doubles as a taser. Is there something in your bedroom you wouldn't want your grandma to see? There’s nothing too explicit, but there are some memorabilia pertaining to my relationship, and I don’t know yet if I’d want her to know about that. Have you ever heard someone label you? If you mean eavesdropping, then no. When is the last time you read "Green Eggs and Ham"? I don’t think I’ve ever even read it, or had it read to me. If it happened, I’m guessing it was also more than a decade ago. Define communist: Everybody does the same tasks, everybody gets the same necessities. At least that’s the gist I’ve gotten after four years of being in UP. Define republican: I’m not American and this isn’t a term used in Asia. But I do know I like this side much less than the Democrats. Would you rather see the opposite sex naked or dressed in a slammin outfit? Uh, dressed I guess. Is today your unbirthday? Sure. The most annoying thing about being human: The fact that I never asked to be here, lmfao. How many fans do you have in your house? Six. When is your next dentist appointment? I’m not sure, but my dentist told me I have to go back in a few weeks because he has to put fillings on the spot where I had my tooth extraction. Something important to you: My dog. If you had to choose a color to describe how you felt what would it be? Gray.

#survey #surveys

[eldritchsurveys]

629.

What’s the song that makes you want to dance? >> Anything by Big Freedia. Have you ever called yourself a gangsta? >> I highly doubt it, I’ve never been interested in that. Do you use push pins or tape to keep things on your wall? >> I use Command strips or hooks. How old do people guess you are? >> Early 20s is pretty common. Does it annoy you if they guess too high? >> No one ever guesses near 30, let alone my actual age, so.

Use any styling products in your hair? >> No.

What is your favorite energy drink? >> I hate energy drinks. Have you ever snuck out of your house? >> No. Describe your clock in the bedroom: >> I do have a clock in my room, because it’s cool (it’s a record that was cut into a Dark Tower design), but I took the battery out because the noise was driving me insane. Do you chew on your cuticles (the skin under your nail)? >> No, but I used to pick at it a lot. Do you feel like you found your place in the world? >> I don’t feel suited for where I am in the world. But who does, these days. What is your dream job? >> --- When did you last go to the bathroom? >> Few hours ago. Where does the ‘magic happen’ in your house? >> What? Do you have pens that don’t work, but you still keep them? >> No. What do you use your lotion for? >> I put lotion on after washing my hands. I use shea butter for moisturising after a shower. Do you own some sort of MP3 player? >> No, I use Spotify on my phone. If so, do you ever leave the house without it? If not, do you want one? >> --- Is love a labor to you? >> It can be. But it’s labour I choose and have committed to, which makes it worth doing. If love was a labor, would you join a union? >> Is this supposed to be funny, because yawn. Who are your friends? >> This question again. What do you consider a friend? >> I don’t know. Someone who cares about me, I guess. Which is difficult to quantify, but I guess that’s what makes me so squirrely about it. Have you ever had your nails painted black? >> Black is my default choice of colour when I paint my nails. Is your room messy? >> Not especially, but because I’m sensitive to clutter (like, a lot of objects cluttering my vision and making my brain wiggy) I sometimes feel that way. What would you do if you were mugged on the street? >> Fucking spaz. Yell, flail, draw all kinds of attention to myself. Even if I still get mugged (or get knocked the fuck out, or... the worst case scenario), at least maybe someone will have seen who did it or something. The last time I got mugged I didn’t do anything because it caught me by surprise and I froze up, so that’s a possible response too. Have you ever done a Mad Libs? >> Yeah. Does a persons dominant hand actually affect the age they’ll die? >> That doesn’t seem plausible. When is the last time you skinned your knee? >> I don’t remember. Do you own a flashlight? >> No. Is there something in your bedroom you wouldn’t want your grandma to see? >> --- Have you ever heard someone label you? >> Probably. When is the last time you read “Green Eggs and Ham”? >> I’ve never read it. Define communist: >> I am not a dictionary. Define republican: Would you rather see the opposite sex naked or dressed in a slammin outfit? >> --- Is today your unbirthday? >> Most likely not. The most annoying thing about being human: >> Don’t get me started. How many fans do you have in your house? Two? Three? I forget. When is your next dentist appointment? >> --- Something important to you: >> Inworld. If you had to choose a color to describe how you felt what would it be? >> Grey, I guess.

#surveys #survey #random survey

[distant-rose]

Notes: Hi Fran (@killiancygnus), I was your person for Hub Secret Santa apologies on my crap question asking, but I hope you will forgive me. Anyway, you said you were interested in some modern au fluff and hopefully this hits the spot. Summary: Emma Swan has been working with Killian Jones for three years and only knows five things about him, one of them being he’s pain in her ass. She’s totally okay with this. Her meddling son with a penchant for matchmaking is not. Word Count: 4,400+ Rating: T+

In hindsight, she should have saw it coming. Since he was old enough to realize that most parents weren’t single, Henry had been trying to set her up with any and everyone, including the mailman. Most of the time his attempts at matchmaking were more endearing than anything else. However, there were also instances where her well-intentioned but meddlesome son would involve himself with things he shouldn’t and things would get awkward. 

This, Emma had already sensed, would be one of the latter cases.

“You’re mad at me,” Henry stated flatly with all the grace and subtly of any precocious child.

“I’m not mad,” she replied tiredly, rubbing at her temples and staring at the elevator ceiling with a mixture of tiredness and exasperation. “I just wish you asked me before you invited him over for Christmas. This is one of those things you’re supposed to ask me before you do it. Now, I’m going to have to adjust things and go shopping last minute so we have actual food.”

“Why can’t we just do what we normally do? I like it.”

“Because normal people don’t sit in front of the television all day and eat Tollhouse cookie dough. I’m pretty sure if we did that, we would get a lecture on salmonella and social services would be up my ass the very next day.” 

“Killian isn’t Walsh. He wouldn’t do that,” Henry said, raising his eyebrows. 

She scowled at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. Walsh had been overly critical of not only her job but also how she was raising Henry. On their last date, he had mentioned how Henry needed a proper father figure and she had promptly shown him the door. Needless to say that he hadn’t taken the break up well and the next day, she had gotten a visit from social worker from the Office of Family and Child Services.

“You don’t know him. I don’t even know him.”

“You’ve been working with him for three years, that’s like forever!”

“Yeah and I only know like five things about him.”

“Mom!”

“What?”

“You should talk to him more, I know you like him. Especially his butt. You always lean over to look at it.”

Emma rubbed at her temples, fighting the furious blush threatening to stain her cheeks. It was one thing for David to tease her but an entirely different thing for her eleven-year old son to take notice of her habit of checking Killian Jones out. 

The problem was that Emma actually liked Killian. 

She hadn’t at first when he first arrived. He had been cocky, irritating and had a reputation for trouble. He had transferred to their precinct after being undercover for seven years with the mafia before being down the entire Gold operation in a RICO case. Despite his success, there had been whispers that he had gone rogue and had gotten himself involved with Gold’s wife and it had ended in her grizzly murder. The environment at his old precinct had become toxic enough that he was transferred and had been partnered with Robin Locksley ever since. 

After hearing the rumors, Emma had been suspicious, but he proved himself be more than a self-important lothario during a kidnapping case they worked together. He hadn’t been the most professional partner she had ever had, but he had a quick wit and a determination unlike anything Emma ever seen. On top of that, he had a mind like a steel trap and knew Emma’s drink order without her  prompting.

He was a good guy albeit rough around the edges and she’s been crushing on him ever the kidnapping case. Not that she’s going to do anything about it because Emma Swan didn’t date other cops.

She’s done it before, and the thought of Graham made her heart ache. She would never forget the moment he slipped away in her arms, his blood oozing between her fingers as she tried to put pressure on his wound and screamed for help. It was something that still haunted her. 

It was why she had been determined to keep things her distance with Killian. She’s never been lucky with love and it was better for them to be friendly coworkers than to have him either ditch her or bleed out in her arms. 

But now Henry had entirely put a wrench in that plan. 

“Just give him a chance, Mom,” Henry said quietly, pulling him from her dark thoughts. “I just want you to be happy.” 

“I am happy,” she asserted, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’ve got you.”

A week later, she was swamped with work and had entirely forgotten about Henry’s invite.

Emma has never been fond of Christmas. When she was a child, Christmas had been a lonely time and a reminder no one wanted her. No number of donated presents could make up for the insincerity and aloofness from the series of foster parents she had. When she got older and had Henry, she then found resentment in the commercialism of the holiday and how ashamed she was that she couldn’t afford all the fancy toys other parents could. Joining the NYPD did nothing to change her lack of holiday spirit. There was something about the holiday season that made people go crazy and the number of cases she had skyrocketed without fail. 

Which was why she stared up in bleary eyed confusion when Killian Jones appeared in front of her desk, shifting in place and giving her an awkward smile.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, love, I was wondering what you wanted me to bring over for Tuesday…”

“What?”

“Tuesday. You know, Christmas? It’s bad form to show up empty handed.” 

“Oh! Ooooh,” she bit her lip, averting her eyes. “Um, nothing. No need.”

“I’ll bring some wine then. What do you prefer white or red?” 

“Seriously, Jones, you don’t have to do this. There’s no need.”

“You look like more of a white wine kind of girl, considering all that sugar you put in your coffee. I’m amazed you still have teeth sometimes, though your dentist must love you.” 

She scowled at him, leaning back and crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

“There’s no need,” she repeated flatly.

“Perhaps not, but I want to. What about Henry? What does he want for Christmas this year?” 

“You are not getting my kid a present!”

“Who said anything about presents? I’m just asking what he wanted…”

Emma raised her eyebrows at him, giving him her patent unimpressed look. 

“You realize that if you don’t tell me, I’ll just text him, right?”

“You have my kid’s number?” she asked in disbelief.

“He gave it to me the day he graciously invited me over to your place for the holiday,” Killian replied, scratching behind his ear. Over the past few years of working on the force today, it was something Emma knew to be a nervous tick of his. “Unless that’s not alright…then I apologize, love. I should have asked you first.” 

She leaned further back in her seat, conflicted. He was right, he should have told her that he has been texting her kid and a part of her wanted to rail at him for disregarding her role as Henry’s parent. At the same time, a part of her had to acknowledge some truth in what Walsh had said. Aside from David, he didn’t have many positive male figures in his life, and despite his colorful past, she trusted Killian both as a cop and as a person. 

“You should have but as long as you’re not discussing work or anything inappropriate, I’m okay with it,” she replied, biting on a pen. “But you’re still not buying my son a gift.” 

“Noted. What time should I be over?” 

“Ummm...early afternoon? That’s when most people have dinner on Christmas Day, right?” She cringed at the uncertainty in her own voice.

“Is that a question, love?”

“Sorta?”

“I honestly wouldn’t know because I haven’t celebrated in ages but that’s what Hallmark tells me,” he replied, blue eyes giving her a considering look. “Why? What do you normally do?”

Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  “Nothing extravagant. It’s usually just a chill day for us.”

“Well, don’t change that on my account. I don’t want to cause any extra stress.”

“You’re not. I promise. I’ll just make going to make dinner. It won’t be that big of a deal, I promise.”

Famous last words.

Emma had never been much of a cooker. While her best friend Mary-Margaret was capable of embodying the spirit of Julia Child and could whip up all sorts of amazing food, Emma was more of the microwave and toaster oven kind of girl. Her crowning dish was instant ramen with store bought cooked chicken thrown in. 

Why she thought she could tackle an entire Christmas ham on her own, she didn’t know, but come Christmas day, said ham was burned beyond recognition. The mashed potatoes she had intended for a side dish were lumpy and there was meat juice all over the expensive Christmas sweater that she had bought just for today. On top of that, she was standing on a chair and waving newspaper at her smoke detector, hoping that it would stop going off. The shrill sound grated at her ears.

It took her two minutes to get the smoker alarm to turn off and when she jumped off the chair back onto the floor, Killian Jones had somehow appeared right behind her. She let out a shriek of surprise, nearly jumping out of her skin. She stumbled backwards into the kitchen island.

“Holy shit, what are you doing here!”

“Henry let me in,” he said with a small chuckle. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

It was after he spoke that Emma took in his appearance and gasped. Killian Jones was standing in her kitchen in dressed in his pajamas. Or at least a pajama set covered in snowman and reindeer. On top of wearing such a ridiculously festive set, he was almost carrying a large tub of Tollhouse chocolate chip cookie dough. 

“What the hell are you wearing? And why do you have cookie dough?”

“Well, I asked Henry what you guys did for Christmas and he told me that you guys usually lounge around in pajamas, watch Christmas movies and eat chocolate chip cookie dough. And I don’t know about you, Swan, but I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate Christmas.”

“What about the Hallmark Christmas dinner?”

“I didn’t realize I had asked for a Hallmark Christmas dinner…” Killian frowned.

“You didn’t,” she admitted, biting her lip and surveying the chaos that was her kitchen. “But I wanted to give it to you.”

“I’ve never had a Hallmark Christmas dinner, Swan, not even when I celebrated Christmas so I can miss something I’ve never had. How about this? You go back to your room and get back into proper dress code then we’ll clean this up together alright?”

“Fine,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at him. “But don’t touch anything while I’m gone.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Oh, shut up, I know for a fact you’ve never been a scout, Jones,” she responded, wagging a finger at him before turning on her heel and heading into her bedroom. 

She debated getting back to last night’s pajamas but there wasn’t anything really festive about an NYPD training t-shirt and a pair of sweats. Instead, she went digging through her drawers in hopes of finding the holiday pajama set that Henry had bought her a few years ago. She found them in a crumpled heap at the bottom of her pants drawer.

She returned to the kitchen, armed in light blue penguin pajamas and fuzzy Christmas socks, only to find both Killian and Henry cleaning up her mess while listening to Jingle Bell Rock on blast. Henry was swinging his body side to side to the rhythm of the music while scrubbing her cooking pan. Killian, on the other hand, was washing the countertops and mouthing the words. 

“Whatever happened to scout’s honor?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“As you cleverly pointed out, Swan, I was never a scout.”

She rolled her eyes in response before walking over to Henry and ruffling his hair. He ducked upon the contact, giving her a goofy grin.

“What possessed you in cleaning the dishes?” she teased.

“Killian said that if I helped him pick up then he would help me build the pillow fort.

Ever since Henry could walk, they had always made a giant fort made from all the blankets, pillows and chairs in their apartment. Last year they had managed to make their fort as big as the living room and had kept the fort intact up until the end of Christmas break. Aside from eating an absurd amount of cookie dough and not wearing pants, it was one of Henry’s favorite traditions.

When they were done cleaning the remnants of Emma’s failed Christmas meal, they sauntered in the living room where Emma replaced the Pandora Christmas playlist with the Fireplace for Your Home production on Netflix, which was merely a six-hour video of a Yule log burning. Killian lifted an eyebrow at the choice.

“Interesting Christmas movie there, Swan…”

“It’s not a movie…it’s more like a fix for a craving…”

“Pardon?”

“Well, ever since I was little, all I wanted to do on Christmas was sit down next to a fireplace and watch movies, all cozy and warm. With a cat preferably, at least until I found out I was allergic. And as if you can tell, this apartment doesn’t have a fireplace, so I make do with this. Besides, there’s no movie watching until the fort is complete.”

They spent the next hour and a half bickering over the construction of the perfect blanket fort. Killian and Henry seemed intent layering the entire floor with pillows, which Emma felt was an unnecessary waste of resources. Killian had fit into their annual Christmas project so seamlessly, it felt like he had always been a part of it. When they finished their project, they were all laying in the chaotic mixture of pillows and duvet covers and staring up at the now sheet-tented ceiling. 

“We’re missing something,” Killian said, turning to look at Emma.

“What could we possibly be missing?” Henry asked in disbelief. “This is the best fort ever.”

“Got any fairy lights?” 

“What?”

“Fairy lights? You know, the ones you can hang up for Christmas?”

“You mean Christmas lights?” Henry asked. “Yeah, I think we’ve got some leftover boxes…”

“Why don’t you go get them then, lad? I have an idea.”

They hung fairy lights throughout the inside of their fort and though it was a pain in the ass to find vantage points from where to hang them, Emma could honestly say that it was probably the best fort that they had ever created. The addition of the lights gave the fort a magical mystique that none of their previous forts had possessed.

When they had been finished with the lights, Killian exited the fort only to return with the giant tub of cookie dough and three spoons.  Emma changed from the Fireplace special production to Miracle on 34th Street. 

“What do you normally do on Christmas, Killian?” Henry asked, licking away all the remaining dough off his spoon. 

“Nothing as wonderful as this,” Killian replied with a low chuckle. “Normally, I just sit at home, watching Hallmark movies and eating Chinese food. This is quite the upgrade.”

“Why Chinese food?”

“Well, you see, when I was your age, my brother and I used to watch a movie called A Christmas Story and near the end of the film, the family loses their dinner and has to go to a Chinese restaurant instead. My brother was enamored with the film and when he was alive, he went out of his way to get Chinese on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day in honor of it.”

Henry’s eyes immediately shifted to Emma’s and she knew exactly what he was thinking. Killian had embraced their Christmas traditions with open arms and perhaps it was time that they returned the favor. She slipped Henry her credit card while she and Killian headed into the kitchen to get put their dishes into the sink.

“Thank you for inviting me over, Swan…I know you burned up the ham but other than that, I hope my presence hasn’t mucked up your day too much.”

“No, no, no. Ham aside, it’s been a great day,” Emma said, washing the spoons under the facet. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m surprised you allowed this to happen in the first place, if I’m being honest.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’ve always kept me at arm’s length at the precinct. I actually wasn’t sure you even liked me.”

“I like you,” she said, tugging her hair behind her ear. “It’s just…”

“Just?”

“It’s nothing personal. I…it’s a self-preservation thing really. We don’t have the most steady and safe job in the world. Anything could happen at any time…and it’s just…it hurts less when you aren’t attached.”

“Who did you lose?” he asked softly, giving her an understanding look.

“My first partner…Graham…”

“I take you it you were close...”

She nodded quietly. He paused in his washing, wiped his hands against his pajama pants and pulled her into a hug. Emma stiffened at the unexpected contact before slowing raising her arms and resting her palms against his shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry…” he murmured against her hair. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t empathize. I was there when my brother died and then when Milah…” It was the first time Emma ever heard Killian mention Gold’s murdered wife but she didn’t want to ruin the moment with questions about his time undercover. “That hurt never really goes away...but it does get easier…”

“I don’t think it can,” she whispered.

“It can if you let it,” he replied, blue eyes meeting hers intently. “I know it sounds strange but a broken heart can be a good thing. It means it still works.”

“What are you guys doing in here?” Henry asked in teasing voice, giving them a smirk from the doorway.

“Nothing. Just talking,” Emma replied, pulling away from Killian and brushing her hair behind her ear self-consciously.

“Riiiiiiiight,” her son replied, tone insinuating quite clearly that he didn’t believe her. “Well, if you’re done talking, I just wanted to let you know that A Christmas Story is playing on the television and I thought Killian might want to watch it.”

“I appreciate it, lad.”’

He gave Emma’s shoulder a small squeeze before moving past her. Henry just continued to smirk at her.

“You liiiiiiike him,” he teased her.

“Oh, shut up.”

“You do though!” He asserted. “You really do! Just admit it!”

“I do like him.”

“Good, because he’s awesome and better than you at making forts.”

“Hey!” She exclaimed in mock offence, leaning forward and swatting him slightly on the shoulder.

“What? It’s true!” He laughed. “So, when are you going to go on a date?”

“Date? Who said anything about a date?” She frowned, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Isn’t that what people do when they like each other? Go out on dates and then get married and be a family and what not?”

“Some people,” she replied, shaking her head. “But not me.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s complicated.”

“That’s what adults say when they can’t think of anything and they’re scared.”

“Henry...enough.”

“Just think about it, Mom. He’s good. He fits in with us.” 

He didn’t wait for her to reply, storming out of the kitchen. Emma gripped the countertop, shoulders heaving as she exhaled a loud sigh. She took a moment to compose herself and get a handle on her emotions before joining the boys in the living room.

They were sitting inside the fort, resting on a mountain of pillows. Henry was asking questions about the movie and Killian was answering them with the patience of a saint.

“So this is, like, a super old movie, right?”

“Actually not as old as you think. It was actually made in the late 1980s, though it’s supposed to be a parody on the 1950s American culture. There’s a bunch of a little subtle jokes being made. Like the leg lamp.”

“The leg lamp?”

Emma crawled into the fort. Killian immediately shifted so she could sit between him and Henry. 

“Have you told him yet that this entire movie was just one big advertisement for the Red Rider corporation?”

“That’s pretty self-explanatory, Mom.”

“I consider it to be more of parody of American society than a genuine advertisement,” Killian replied before nudging her foot with his. “I like your socks, Swan. Very festive.”

“You got me these for Secret Santa like two years ago.”

“I should have known I was behind such an amazing fashion choice.”

Even as he brought his foot back down to the floor, he kept his leg right next to hers. When she didn’t move away from the contact, his foot tapped hers again. She smiled and as she was about to tap his in response, there was a knock at the front door.

“Expecting more company?”

“No, only more food.”

“More food?”

“Yeah,” she smiled as she got out of the fort and opened the front door. Her eyes bulged as she took in the amount of bags the delivery boy was holding. She stared at it for a moment before turning back to stare at her son.

“Dude, how much food did you get?”

“I didn’t know what Killian liked so I got everything…”

“Everything? Are you kidding me?”

“Swan, what’s going on?” Killian asked in confusion.

“My son is trying to bankrupt me is what is going on,” Emma scowled as she took the bags and brought them over to the kitchen table.

The boys came out of the fort to inspect the hull. Killian’s eyes widened when he realized what he was looking at.

“Is this Chinese food?”

“Yeah, everything on the menu from Xao Ming,” Henry said, already riffling through the bags.

“Look, we appreciated you being so into our pajama, pillow fort and cookie dough Christmas tradition and we thought that we should add some of your traditions too…” Emma said, giving him a small smile.

“This…this...this is too much.”

“Oh...it’s definitely too much food and we’re going to be eating Chinese for week, but no, you’ve been great and it’s your Christmas too. Besides, the crab rangoons are to die for.”

“I don’t know how to thank you….” Killian said, looking uncharacteristically lost for words.

“You can thank me by helping me by eating all of this food.”

They made plates and brought their food over to their fort. A Christmas Story was just finishing up. They flipped channels until they came across The Snowman animated movie. 

After stuffing his face with food, Henry almost immediately fell into a coma food. His head lulled on Killian’s shoulder, mouth gaping and snoring softly. Killian chuckled.

“Do you want me to help move him?”

“Yeah, thanks. He’s getting too big for me to carry,” she whispered.

Emma grabbed Henry’s legs and Killian got him by the shoulders. Together, they moved him out of the fort and into Henry’s room. Emma tucked him in, running her fingers through his hair and giving him a kiss goodnight before following Killian out in the hallway.

“It’s getting late and I should go…” he said, sounding rather reluctantly.

Emma glanced at the clock over his shoulder, eyes widening when she realized it was well into the evening. The day had gone by like a blink of an eye and she was almost sad, it was ending.

“Holy shit...yeah...look at the time. I’ll walk you out”

They walked closely to each other as they headed down the hallway, their hands brushing against each other’s. They lingered in the doorway.

“Thank you for inviting me for, Swan. This was the best Christmas I’ve had in a long time…”

“I can’t take credit for this. This was Henry.”

“You’ve got an amazing kid there, Swan. You should be proud. You’ve done amazing with him.”

“You mean, amazing for a single mom?” Emma asked, remembering Walsh’s dig at her parenting tactics.

“Amazing for anyone,” he corrected. “You have raised an intelligent and thoughtful young man.”

“Thanks…”

“I only have one question. What’s with the mistletoe?”

Emma blinked, staring at him in confusion. “What?”

Killian chuckled before pointing upwards. Her eyes followed the direction of his finger and, sure enough, there was a few sprigs of mistletoe tacked above the door. She gaped at it for a few moments before letting out a noise of frustration.

“Henry…”

“Henry?”

“Henry did this,” she clarified. “He’s been trying to set us up.”

“Yeah,” Killian chuckled. “I gathered that. He isn’t exactly subtle, love.”

“I’m so sorry about it.”

“No, it’s alright. I appreciate the show of support. Like I said, you have a great kid.”

“Thanks. And for the record, you don’t have to kiss me…”

“But what if I want to?” He asked playfully, waggling his eyebrows at her.

“Well then…I guess...you could if you wanted to…” 

His eyes bulged, looking just as surprised as she felt. She never expected the evening to end with her being comfortable with the idea of kissing him. It went against all of her self-imposed rules. Yet, somehow over the night, she had grown comfortable with the idea. Watching him interact with her kid had assuaged some of her fear. 

“So, that’s a yes?” He stepped further into her personal space, bringing his hand up so that his thumb brushed against the apple of her cheek. 

“Pretty much yeah…”

He tilted his head down and kissed her softly. It was tentative at first, a mere brush of his lips against hers, as if he were afraid that she was going to pull away. Emma wasn’t satisfied with this, wrapping her arms around his neck and slanted her mouth harder against his. When her brushed against his bottom lip, Killian’s enthusiasm and participated grew. She relished the low rumble in his chest and how his mouth opened to hers, deepening the kiss.

It was over before either of them were ready to stop. They swayed against each other, trying to chase each other’s lips. He leaned forward, his forehead resting against hers.

“That was…” he trailed off, apparently lost for words.

“Something else,” she finished. “Want to come over tomorrow and help me polish off the mountain of Chinese food in my fridge?”

“Absolutely...so this wasn’t a one-time thing?”

“Definitely not.”

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #killiancygnus #hub secret santa #hub ss #pillow forts and cookie cough #my fic #my shit

[tjkiahgb]

Episode Recap: 2.25, “The Cake That Takes the Cake”

We find Andi and Bex looking at rings to start the episode. I know money is probably tight, I know the proposal is unconventional, I know they’re shopping for Bowie, but why are they looking through the kind of rings you’d get out of the vending machines you put quarters into at the grocery store?

(Also, why is Bex wearing more rings than an 18th century pirate?)

I’m surprised these rings aren’t stored in plastic acorn capsules.

Andi finds a yin yang ring and they realize the message it sends about the universe and everything is the perfect one, even though the ring itself looks like it fell out of a Cracker Jack box.

They celebrate by screaming wildly in the middle of a jewelry store.

Meanwhile, Cyrus and Buffy hang out at the outside basketball courts on a snowy, freezing cold Summer Winter Spring morning.

(Why is that school bus parked in somebody’s driveway?)

Sorry to call out an actor here, but um... Sofia is not good at basketball. Like, at all. In fairness to her, she wasn’t cast to be a basketball player. She’s a very good actor. That’s her strength. Well, also dance. She’s also a good dancer. But that’s neither here nor there. The point is, basketball is not her forte. (Luke is better, but not great either. When you watch the one-on-one later, pay attention to how almost any time someone looks remotely fluid performing a basketball related action, you don’t see their face. It’s... noticeable.)

I say all this just as a fan of basketball who’s having a difficult time watching this scene. Anyway, I’m not really blaming her as much as the director. They’ve done a pretty good job this season of making her look good on the court, but this long, uncut shot of her dribbling and awkwardly pulling up to shoot was a poor choice.

Cyrus tries to pump Buffy up, especially because there’s a basketball game on Friday and Cyrus wants Buffy to rejoin the team. Buffy won’t though.

Cyrus thinks it’s because of TJ. He tries to explain that TJ’s a completely different person. He even got a “C” on a math test.

(It was what now?)

Cyrus says he was like a puppy. Buffy, undeterred, says he’s still a puppy she doesn’t want to play with.

Listen, Buffy’s feelings of anger towards TJ aside, “I don’t want to play with that puppy” is an inherently false statement like “I don’t need oxygen to live,” or “I’m perfectly fine with being set on fire,” or “Oh, you don’t have Coke? That’s great! Pepsi was my first choice!”

Andi and Bex walk together just a couple hundred yards from where Cyrus and Buffy are.

Same bus, same house.

Season’s almost over. Sort of sad the last time the GHC shared the same room was when Buffy and Cyrus walked by in the background of Andi and Jonah’s date planning at Cloud 10, and their last interaction was 15 seconds of looking at each other while Jonah and Walker talked at the art show. Andi and Bex should’ve stopped by the court to say “Hi” at least.

But they didn’t. They’ve got their own thing to do. They’re planning the proposal for tonight. Andi is upset they’ve already used the “hide the ring in a pizza box” plan. They decide to hide the ring in a cake instead. Feels like someone should tell them you can propose without hiding rings in food. In fact, most proposals aren’t “hiding rings in food” based.

Andi decides they should drop in on Bowie at Red Rooster and invite him to dinner, real low-key and casual. It’s such a simple plan. All they have to do is not act like a dentist just pumped them full of nitrous oxide. There’s no way it can fail.

Welp. Maybe they should’ve just texted him? Bowie thinks they’re up to something but isn’t a detective, so he’s unable to piece together anything more than that.

Later, Andi and Bex put together the cake. They stuff the ring inside.

Not a fan of this at all. The pizza plan had the ring safely in a holder on top of the pizza. This is a big hazard! The only thing preventing tragedy is an easily movable toothpick. You want a surefire way to ruin a proposal? Have the guy you’re proposing to choke to death on a little chunk of metal. You are playing with fire here.

Still, they’re happy with their plan. Until they turn around and see they’ve made a huge mess.

One bigger than you might think possible for making just one little cake. And why are there sprinkles everywhere? There are no sprinkles on the cake! What were they even doing in there?!

This has become such a mess, they decide they can’t continue to make food here. They’ll use Celia’s kitchen (and her dining room and her dishes) instead and leave this mess to animated forest animals to clean up.

Bex, if you leave this mess sitting out for the rest of the day, the only animals that are going to show up to take care of it are ants. Do you want ants? Because that’s how you get ants.

Cyrus and Buffy show up at the gym. Cyrus excuses himself to grab something out of his locker, which should be Buffy’s first clue that something is up. There’s no way Cyrus has anything important in his gym locker.

TJ shows up. Buffy says, “Well, well, if it isn’t Jock-iavelli” thinking she’s gonna catch TJ off-guard, but TJ knows who Machiavelli is because he has a numbers-related learning disability, not a lack of intelligence.

Buffy really walked into that one.

TJ tells her he got a two-game suspension for Buffy doing his homework. That makes Buffy feel better. It also feels like something he could’ve mentioned to soften the blow back in that scene that shall not be mentioned. If he was suspended from the team with Buffy, that certainly makes the outcome of that scene look more like a careless mistake on his part than a Jockiavellian chess move. It’s two months later and the writing of that scene still bothers me with how incoherent and discordant it is. But, really, though, who even cares anymore? (I mean, besides me. I do. But I’m not well. So...)

TJ’s back on the team and wants to know why Buffy isn’t coming back. He tries to goad her into playing when Cyrus shows up too soon and blows his and TJ’s plan by asking if they’re going to do a one-on-one match or something.

Buffy figures out their game but still grabs her gym clothes to get ready. She doesn’t turn down a challenge, even a sloppily executed one.

Yeah. You gotta at least do a dry run. Use Trash Can Buffy. She’s hasn’t been talked to in weeks and is probably very lonely.

Speaking of very lonely, Bex visits Celia, but only to trick her into leaving her house. Bex has gotten Celia a suite for the night with room service and spa treatment (all charged to Ham, of course).

Sort of feels like: you know Celia’s having a tough time, and you know she loves Bowie, why not let her stay and be a part of this? I get if it’s going to be intimate, but Andi’s going to be there. It’s already two generations of Mack women. What’s one more? She’s close family. It’s not like you’re inviting Gus.

Celia heads off to her one night vacation and Bex sneaks Andi into the house via the backdoor. Andi has supplies for dinner and a newfound appreciation for pots.

Pots. Is there anything they can’t do?

Back at the gym, TJ and Buffy start their one-on-one. Cyrus keeps score. Former bitter enemies! A competitive one-on-one! Friendships on the line!

What will happen?! The drama is starting to heat up and then we cut to--

ASPARAGUS!

SALAD!

A CHEEEEEESE PLAAAAAAATEEEEEE!!!

Can you feel the excitement?! Is it pumping through your veins like so much red hot blood?!

Bex takes a chicken out of the oven!

Andi shucks corn!

Fasten your safety harness! You must be this tall to ride and women who are pregnant or thinking of ever becoming pregnant should get back. If you have a heart condition, you’d better look away! You. Will. Die!

I’m sorry. I know I’m going in way too hard on this scene. It’s still Andi’s show and her story still has to be at the forefront. But this episode was killing me.

I know everything before the big scene at the end with Bowie -- the ring picking, the planning, the cake baking, the food preparing -- is all in service of setting it up. But the dramatic stakes in these scenes are almost nil. It’s just like, a bunch of happy montage stuff. Which I normally don’t have a problem with on this show -- it’s usually cute and peppy -- but when you compare it to the actual interesting stuff that’s going on at this exact moment in the gym? The two scenes are so many dramatic miles apart that you can’t stand at one and see the other. It’s somewhere beyond the horizon.

And it’s especially irritating when you’re cutting away from the gym in the middle of the drama to this fluff. It’s giving me whiplash.

Anyway, Andi asks Bex how much corn she should shuck and Bex says to shuck ‘em all and let God sort them out.

Then Bex just starts listing food they have sitting on the counter in plain sight for all to see.

They wonder if this is too much food. Andi remembers they made a cake, too. Bex says that’s right, they did make a cake! Do you remember when they made a cake? Do you remember that scene? I do. It was literally five minutes ago. It wasn’t even in a different act. It was this same one after the commercial break. But I’m so glad to be reminded. Thank you for reminding me. Let’s remember some more things. Remember when Andi was shucking corn and asked how many corns she should shuck and Bex said shuck ‘em all? That was good times. I hope this scene continues for several more minutes as we just remember those moments. Maybe Bex can list the foods she sees near her one more time.

Terri Minsky, if you read this, I’m sorry. I’m just joking around.

But you do make me crazy sometimes.

We head back to the gym where several basketballs bounce across the floor like Old West tumbleweeds.

It’s also kind of a weird thing to happen in a gym with only three people in it. Who knocked over the basketball cart?

TJ and Buffy trade baskets back and forth. Cyrus is fading but still keeps score.

It feels like this puts TJ at a disadvantage, because of his dyscalculia. This is blatant math privilege.

Buffy finally beats TJ to the rim and puts in a layup to win their battle. Buffy celebrates and the crazed fan in attendance storms the court.

Cyrus and Buffy hug. TJ and Buffy congratulate each other on a good game. Cyrus says that means the plan worked. It’s been proven through science that TJ and Buffy can play together and thus, Buffy needs to rejoin the basketball team.

But Buffy says she’s still not going to. But she’s not going to quit basketball. She’s starting a girls’ team instead. Cyrus and TJ give her props for having an even better-er plan than their plan.

At Celia’s, Bex and Andi anxiously await Bowie’s arrival. He finally shows up, but he says he’s brought a surprise with him.

And that surprise is, a group of vagrants?

Or it’s just Bowie’s band. Or maybe... both?

The band showed up out of the blue and they’re staying for dinner. So. That’s neat. What a neat little thing for them to do without asking ahead of time.

Andi and Bex decide they’re still going to go through with the proposal, though.

TJ, Cyrus, and Buffy walk together out of school. Cyrus thinks they can all be friends now. TJ thinks so, too. But Buffy is not so sure because she hasn’t done anything horrible to TJ like he’s done to her.

She thinks she’s forgiven him but friendship might still be out of reach. Maybe, she says, if TJ delivered the best apology ever. Cyrus asks him to give a shot. TJ takes a deep breath and...

Wait. Let’s stop a second here.

We’ve talked a lot about the acting on the show this season, especially as far as the kids go. There have been several really touching, deep moments that they’ve handled with excellence.

But nothing. Nothing! Compares to what happens here.

If you came to me before this episode and told me that TJ was going to deliver his end-of-redemption-arc apology to Buffy via a super-sincere, basketball-themed rap, I would’ve shouted “No!” and I probably would’ve taken a swing at you. And that’s knowing full well it wasn’t your fault. It’s not even with intent to hurt you. It would just be my body reacting to that stimulus with some kind of violent impulse I couldn’t control. Lashing out at that specific moment because it would be the only way I could think of to express myself.

But here’s the thing. The fact that I not only didn’t cringe so hard that I burst into flames while watching this, but that I actually thought it worked and I really liked it as a moment? Give Luke all the awards for pulling that off. Give him an Emmy. Give him a Tony, too. Give him the whole damn EGOT and throw in a People’s Choice Award and a Nobel Prize in Physics with it.

So, Luke/TJ/DJ Fruity Mixitup launches into this crazy rap and it’s so... freakin’... sweet. He’s not making a joke about it or anything. It’s heartfelt and honest. This is like publicly apologizing to a trash can to the tenth power. I still can’t believe this is happened.

Terri Minsky, I forgive you for all the food montages.

Also, I know there’s been some talk about Cyrus making him do this, but there’s no way that entire thing was freestyle. Some is. He obviously had to incorporate the new information about the girls basketball team. But the rest? I mean, I’ll argue all day that TJ isn’t dumb, but I don’t think he’s some rap prodigy. He absolutely knew coming in that he was going to apologize to Buffy today. It was part of the plan. And if he didn’t spend a couple of hours writing out the majority of that rap, he at least took the time to sit down and outline it. You don’t just drop a Liam Neeson reference out of nowhere.

Buffy accepts the apology. Maybe they can be friends.

TJ heads off, but not before looking back.

Which is interesting to us as an audience, because we understand the significance. But in the show, only Jonah and Amber do. Cyrus and Buffy don’t.

So you’d imagine the conversation would go like:

Buffy: Is he looking back here? What does he want?

Cyrus: I don’t know. (shouting) What?

TJ: (shouting) Huh?!

Cyrus: What- do you need something?

TJ: What?

Cyrus: Did you forget something?

TJ: No. I’m just looking back!

Cyrus: Why?

TJ: It means something! It has significance!

Cyrus: Huh?!

TJ: Forget it! We’ll solve this in season three!

Cyrus: (waving) Ok! Bye!

...and scene.

Back at Celia’s, this odd, odd dinner party is in full swing. Bowie and the only guy in the band who talks exchange stories from the road when Celia shows up to bust the party.

Celia’s upset until Bex explains they’re going to propose to Bowie. And then Celia is not so upset anymore.

Back at the dinner table, they prepare the cake. Before they can get to the ring, though, the only guy in the band who talks speaks up. He has something to say first, to Bowie. See, the band came here especially to see Bowie. Then the band member gets on one knee.

Terri Minsky, you monster! For making the gayest moment in this episode occur between Bowie and his band’s drummer, you are once again on the bad list!

Even Celia’s like, this is some gay stuff going on here.

The band member says the band has booked their first international tour and they need him back. Bowie is honored but thinks about Andi. The band member asks him to come for just six months, but Bowie can’t.

But then Andi and Bex tell him he can, so Bowie says he’ll think about it.

Andi and Bex break off to talk. They want him to go on the tour. Bex says for that to happen though, she can’t propose, because if she does, he won’t leave. Andi says propose and tell him it’s ok to go. As long as he’s locked down, it’s all good. Celia shows up and says don’t let him go in the first place. The argument continues. Bex says they can’t propose if one of them doesn’t want to, but Andi says that’s a new rule and not allowed.

Oh, right. This is why you don’t do joint proposals.

They want to cut the cake out in the dining room. Andi and Bex tell Celia the ring is in the cake and she, rightly, points out that that’s a worse choking hazard than the toothpick she pulled out of it.

They go running out to the dining room and Bex does the only thing she can think of: shoves her hands deep into the cake.

Then Andi joins in. And so does Bowie.

Celia warns the band members that none of these three have washed their hands, as if those guys don’t look like they eat most of their meals off the floor of the tour van.

After thoroughly destroying the cake, Bowie comes across the ring.

He wants to know what it is, and Andi and Bex respond as only Macks under pressure can: with a lot of “Um”s.

We cut to black and that’s that for season 2.

Whew. What a ride. And now begins another long, cold hiatus.

Hey, if you’ve read any of my recaps this season, thank you so much. I’ve got a few more things planned for the near-term following this, but pretty shortly I’m going to take something of a hiatus, too, to do other stuff with my life until season three. I’ll pop in and out, but I probably won’t be doing too much writing, so if you want to discuss some of what’s happened, send your asks in soon. Feel free to send silly asks, too, but fair warning, I’m aiming to just do some analysis type posts related to season 2 for now, while it’s still relevant and fresh in our minds. I’m not ignoring you, but silly asks will probably be put off until season 3.

Otherwise, see you guys on the other side.

#Andi Mack #Bex Mack #Cyrus Goodman #Buffy Driscoll #TJ Kippen #Bowie Quinn #Celia Mack #Andi #episode recaps

[ladysnausages]

Where There’s Smoke_C4

Pairing: NaLu

AU ~ bodyguard/heiress

Cover photo courtesy of @fainttwinkling

Summary

Lucy, a cynical heiress, longs to find meaning in life. At a party, she meets Natsu, a strange man who drags her into a world she never knew existed and never expected to be a part of. Greed, espionage and organized crime, it becomes a three way battle for her life -- one to kill her, one to exploit her and one to save her.

Chapter Links

C1 C2 C3 C4

Where There’s Smoke

Chapter 4

Tabula Rasa

              Lucy was pulled from a dreamless sleep by the low murmur of a television and a muffled conversation. She sat up, the loud creak of springs protesting against her movements. She looked around the unfamiliar room, noting the torn and peeling wallpaper and a television with crooked antennas that she assumed was taken straight out of a time capsule. There was an empty twin bed next to hers, the blankets disheveled from someone occupying it recently. The room smelled musty and slightly salty and it felt as if the stench was clinging to every part of her, desperate to permeate everything it came into contact with.

              Where was she? And how much did she drink?

              She flung the limp comforter off of her, noticing she was still in her evening gown. She removed herself from the bed, touching her bare feet to the dingy shag carpeting.

              “What did you expect me to do?” A familiar, hushed voice was barely distinguishable through the door that she assumed lead to an equally quaint bathroom.

              Her face flushed as she recalled the party’s events of the night before, focusing on the details that led her here. From meeting Natsu and then Bora to Bora threatening her and Natsu defending her. But when and how did she end up here?

She took cautious steps towards the door, intent on eavesdropping on the conversation to gain any useful information. Carefully, she pressed her ear to it.

He was on the phone and it sounded like he was arguing with someone.

              “Well it’s too late to turn back now. So she’ll just have to stick it out.”

           He said nothing more until a gruff “yeah, whatever” and almost immediately followed by the door swinging open. She jumped back.

           He looked caught off guard for a brief moment before turning to the rickety kitchenette. “Hungry?” He shuffled through the mini fridge, pulling out two items wrapped in plastic.

           Lucy ignored his question for one of her own. “Where are we?”

           “Hargeon.” He tossed her one of the mystery meals. She clumsily caught it.

           Hargeon? She thought as she unwrapped the food. It sounded familiar but she couldn’t quite place it. She examined the sub sandwich, silently doubting its edibility. She pinched the top of the cold, stiff bread and wondered if people actually ate this stuff and if they did, if they lived to tell about it. The sparse amount of ham and cheese didn’t look much safer to her eyes. She took a small, tentative bite.

           “It’s a fishing village about a six hour drive from your home.”

           She nearly choked on the sandwich, looking up at him in surprise. This was the farthest she had ever been from her home alone. If she didn’t have a small army of handpicked guards watching her every move and reporting in on her every ten minutes, her father would have kept her locked away in her home.

           “I don’t remember falling asleep.” She muttered, still trying to absorb the new information.

           “That’s not surprising.” Natsu said, eating his meal without a second thought as he scrolled through his phone. “You remember I told you that Bora tried to poison you, don’t you?”

           Lucy paled. “Wait, I was poisoned?”

           “That drink he gave you. But it was just something to knock you out apparently. Which is good because I did not have an antidote handy.”

           “I didn’t drink it though.”

           “But you had some. Even that little bit did quite a number on you, can’t imagine what you’d be like if you drank the whole thing.”

              She was appalled by how casual he was treating the entire scenario, as if getting poisoned was just another way to spend Saturday night.

              Although she did wonder if she should be surprised.

           Here she was, in this unfamiliar motel in an unfamiliar town after she ran off with a complete stranger who was apparently skilled in martial arts, capable of striking fear into the hearts of dangerous men and talked about being poisoned as if it were just as normal and mundane as brushing your teeth in the morning.

Brushing your teeth.

           She was suddenly self-conscious and she quickly brought a hand to her mouth, trying to trap any morning breath from escaping any further.

           Natsu looked at her curiously. “What are you doing?”

           “I need to brush my teeth.” She said, voice muffled by her hand.

           He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, “then go do it. There’s a toothbrush in there.”

           She rushed to the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

           “Weirdo.” He mumbled to himself.

After vigorously brushing her teeth, Lucy looked at herself in the mirror, judging how unpresentable she appeared and imagining the meltdown her father would have were he to see her like this. Hair a tangled mess, eyeliner and mascara smeared under her eyes and her dress wrinkled from tip to toe. She groomed herself to the best of her ability, combing her hair with her fingers, wiping her face with a damp rag and smoothing the delicate material of her gown with the palms of her hands. It wasn’t exactly pretty but it would have to do.

She thought about how out of place she not just looked but felt. This was nothing of the pampered, lavish life she lived. She knew her life was not the norm for people but to what extent the difference was, she hadn’t the slightest clue. A life beyond the gilded gates of the mansion she was confined to. She could see more of the world – the real world – that lay right beyond this room. Or so she assumed – she highly doubted Natsu’s grand plan of protection was to hole her up in some musty motel for days on end.

And that brought reality crashing back down on her.

Just what was she getting herself into? She still didn’t know if she could actually trust this Natsu character, if that even who he actually is. He could likely be using a pseudonym. As far as she knew, he could actually be an extortionist or a murderer. Or worse, married.

She cracked the bathroom door open, staring him down incredulously.

He sat at the end of the bed, vigorously texting someone. He still wore his attire from the previous night, that scarf still draped over his shoulders. Why did he seem so indifferent about this whole ordeal?

Who exactly was he that he could whisk her away like this, using those sugary words to sweeten whatever lies he spoon fed her. She probably shouldn’t trust him but she has already chosen to. But maybe, just maybe, she could use her womanly charms to lure some information out of him. He seemed like he might be a tough nut to crack but between the low cut neckline and high cut slit of her attire, she figured she had the advantage.

He never looked up at her. “Now what are you doing?”

She swung the door open, trying to act like she hadn’t just been caught staring as she walked over and sat next to him, her leg pressed slightly against his. Still not even a glance her way. She was irritated that he didn’t acknowledge her proximity but she stayed quiet, instead taking this time to observe him.

He was still the Natsu she met last night but there was a tension around him this morning that was easy to discern but not decipher. His eyes were sharp and intense, portraying a strength unfamiliar to her and hiding a mystery that she was curious to unlock. But despite the severity of them now, she knew the expressions they were capable of were soft and inviting, offering her the very gazes that ushered her along with him to this place.

She could see now the faint scars that marred his exposed skin, the worst of them, from she could tell, was the one on the side of his neck that she wanted to ask about but knew she shouldn’t.

What kind of man was Natsu actually?

The faint sound of the news caught her attention.

“Heiress to the Heartfilia Conglomerate, Lucy Heartfilia, was allegedly abducted last night from a charity event hosted at the Heartfilia Estate by a mysterious man. Eyewitness accounts from the evening say they did not recognize the suspect and it has been maintained by Jude Heartfilia that he was not an invited guest. More to come on this developing story.”

Lucy was stunned, eyes fixed on the small television screen. A picture of herself and a distant, barely recognizable security camera image of Natsu had flashed across the screen during the relay of entirely false information.

She was bewildered but Natsu was, as expected, entirely unfazed.

All of her thoughts came tumbling out in quick succession. “I-I have to call my father. I have to tell him that that isn’t what happened. That you didn’t do anything wrong, that you’re innocent. That I’m fine. It’s all just a misunderstanding. He needs to know.” She stood up to make a call on the landline but as soon as she lifted the phone from the receiver, Natsu’s hand was over her own, securing the phone on its resting place.

“No can do. You can’t call under any circumstance.”

“Why not? They think you kidnapped me!” She was adamant. Was this really no big deal to him? Just something to brush off like it was no big deal to have whoever was watching this think of him as some common criminal.

“Well…I kind of did. So it’s fine.” A completely flippant response and it left her dumbfounded.

She slipped her hand out from beneath his, voice shaking in a barely contained rage. “No, you did not! I came with you willingly.” Once again, he was making her crazy. All of the engrained decorum out the window.

He placed his hands on her shoulders. “For your sake, I need you to listen to me.” He leveled his gaze with hers, severity hanging heavily around them. “Under no circumstance, until I give you the okay, are you to contact your family or friends or dentist or whatever.” He tightened his grip on her. “Please.”

She was silent, looking into his burning eyes as she slowly nodded.

He stepped away from her, going and grabbing a duffel bag and shuffling through it, tossing some clothes her way. “Get changed. We have to leave here.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll explain on the way just go change.”

She looked at the oversized clothes and then looked at him. “Are these your clothes?” She really didn’t need to ask.

“Obviously.” He replied as he went digging around the bag more. “Sorry but it’s all I have for you. This wasn’t exactly planned.”

“These won’t fit me.” She said, feeling slightly awkward.

He tossed a belt to her. “Now they will.”

She frowned. “I’ll just wear this.” She motioned to the crumpled evening gown she was still wearing.

“That’s too conspicuous. No one casually wears getups like that and people around here will be looking for you. You can’t stand out.”

“And wearing oversized men’s clothes isn’t conspicuous.” She countered, completely straight-faced.

“It’s at least less than what you have on.”

Huffing, she reluctantly obliged and headed back into the bathroom.

She stripped herself of her gown, folding it carefully. It was pointless, she knew, but it made her feel better. She pulled the shirt over her head and pulled the jeans on. Even with the aid of the belt, she was swimming in the jeans and the shirt wasn’t much better. Not to mention she had to tie the whole absurd look together with the same strappy heels she wore last night. She rolled the cuffs of the jeans and tied the shirt at her hip so at least it wasn’t so bad but it could hardly be classified as an improvement. She certainly looked as ridiculous as she felt, which wasn’t exactly an easy feat to match.

Accepting her fate of world’s worst dressed, she picked up her folded gown and stepped out of the bathroom. She glared, her irritation directed straight at him. His back was to her but she had an odd feeling that he knew she was looking at him – and that she wasn’t happy.

“If you’re that irritated about what you’re wearing, feel free to wear nothing.” He said without turning around.

“Won’t that attract more attention?” She retorted sardonically.

He stood up, the duffel securely on his shoulder. “Nobody would be looking at your face so I’m sure it’d be fine.”

The blush covered her face instantaneously, creeping down her neck and up her ears. He’s so…frustrating!

She turned her nose up, feigning superiority, a futile cover to her obvious embarrassment. “I expect a change of clothes wherever we’re going.”

He waved her off. “Yeah, yeah, princess. I’m sure someone will have something for you.”

She grimaced at being called princess but said nothing.

“C’mon, let’s get moving.” He opened the door, looking left and right before motioning for her to follow along. He opened the passenger door of a compact SUV and tossed his small amount of luggage to the backseat and went to the driver’s side, leaving the door open for her. She climbed in, securing her seatbelt.

The engine revved to life and Natsu drove them out of the parking lot.

“So, where are we going?” She asked for the second time.

“Do you know,” he began, “much about the world outside your home?”

She hesitated, taken by surprise by such a loaded question. She wasn’t certain how to even begin to answer. She knew what she read about but as far as firsthand experience, she really had none to speak of. All the parts of the world she had seen had been just as lavish and sheltered as her home. She knew she was wealthy, there was no question about that. She knew she had more than the average majority but she didn’t know to what degree. She was fully aware of the shallowness and loneliness of the world but as far as the cruelties and evils, she had not the slightest clue. And if she tried to answer then she feared she would come to realize her ignorance was greater than she ever imagined. She took it to be quite shallow to want to spare herself that thought so she answered in the most plain, sincere way she could.

“Not really…”

Natsu nodded, apparently figuring that would be her answer. “I’m not really the best one to explain it. A lot of that stuff goes way over my head.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I won’t really go into detail. The boss can handle that.” He paused, trying to figure out how to phrase his next sentence. “I just wanted to mention it because you may be surprised by some of what you see and hear. Just how hard it is for the people out here. So I just,” he rubbed at the back of his neck, clearly awkward, “I just wanted you to be prepared.”

She hadn’t known Natsu long at all, she hadn’t picked up his nervous tics or the subtleties of which expressions reflected which moods. She had grown accustomed to reading people from a business standpoint, using that to gain the advantage in transactions and relations. And though Natsu was still difficult to read, she could see, if only slightly, that this was the most open he could comfortably be.

And so she decided to keep her response simple. “Thank you.” He nodded and she smiled. “So that’s something to remember as we head to wherever it is we’re going.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Which is…where?”

He grinned. “To meet my friends.”

#fairy tail #ft fanfic #ft fanfics #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia

[rmsmoni]

April Lady Pt 1 Roger Taylor Series

She won our hearts the art she loved

Y/N was born in London, in an april rainy afternoon. She was known for being the daughter of a well known man in the neighborhood, an artist, a good one. Not only she was good as well, she would hang them around the streets, hoping and desiring for people to get inspired and to seek beauty.

Is painting pictures free

When she was done she hung them up

For all the children to see

The thing was she not only drew landscape, but the human body as well. Every single old lady of the town was disgusted to see the man and woman body on full display, less in a young girl drawing. Teens around town were known for stealing them, only conscious people knew what for. She would sign them right at the tip of the sheet, April Lady, a name very well known aroun town. Such a drama was made, she had been asked to take them out. To the young people´s dismay, she did.

Goodbye April Lady

It´s been good to have you around

Goodbye April Lady

You´ve done a lot for the folks in this town

As her main hobby had been taken away from her, she decided it was time to learn something else and that thing turn to be the piano. She studied for a solid four years till she entered college with nineteen, not knowing what was waiting for her. That’s were she met Roger Taylor. They were pretty good friends, going to pubs together, having mutual friends. Until one day everything changed.

Y/N had decided that apart from studying, she would give classes as a private teacher to earn money, things were going pretty well in her college room whlie she teached an older student than her basic biology, till Roger decided to interrumpt.

_Y/N! For fuck´s sake! Hear me out, you won´t believe this!- He shouted entering the room.

_Roger, not now!- She whispered shouted at him.

_They are making auditions for a band! Singers, pianists, drummers! That´s us!

_ What?! Really?

The student was just so lost by this point.

_There´s just a little thing, It´s kind of right now. So like...We gotta go.- Said Roger slowly.

You looked at him in disbelieve and turned around to talk to the guy who you were trying so agonizingly to teach.

_  Hey sorry, I will make sure we have another date, but I kind of have to leave now...

_Oh, fuck yeah- Said the dude trying to get out of there as fast as he could, not really wanting to keep studing.

_Ok, that was fast, let´s go.

They ran through the corridors, dodgin students till they made it to the streets, were they decided to walk as Roger was about to have an azma atack. Both of them couldn´t describe how anxious they were, if both of them ended having a part in the band, Roger was sure he would cry.

And he did. Not only him, but Y/N got in. They were ecstatic. They met this guy called Brian, pretty good guy, and Tim, a little obnoxious as Roger called him, but overall, everything was going more than perfect.

Children learned to read

She strung her beads

It´s sorry she was the one

As you can isn´t she good

She don´t leave nothing undone

After a few months of doing gigs together, everything was going well, or It seem to. You were helping Roger and Brian to load up the instruments in the truck after a gig, Tim was nowhere in sight.

_Do you guys want some beers?- Asked Brian, while we were finishing locking everything up.

Both Roger and you nodded your heads, to tired to formly answered. Brian just scoffed at your antics and walked away. To tired to do literally do anything, you and Roger sited in the backsite of the van. 

_So, how did I do?- Asked Roger for the ninth time tonight.

_Rog, I´m pretty sure you got all those ladies swooning, you were amazing.

_But, what did you...

Seeing Brian walking back to you in the distance, you decided to joke Roger´s unsureness away.

_Oh, Brian, darling!- You shouted, watching how the curly tall man looked at you in weirdness after you call him out in a really exaggerated british accent.- Dear Roger here is being a little unsure about his performance tonight...- You dropped the act after some girls passed past you and laughed at your conversation, looking at Roger.- Oh, girlies! What did you think of Roger tonight?

_He was wonderful, handosome too.- Said one of them, making Roger chuckle.

_You know what I´m wonderful on too, Dear?

_Oh, fuck off Roger!- Said Brian and you the same time.- Thanks girls for your enthusiasm, but we will lift his spirit from now on.- Said Brian with a disaproving look in his face.

Brian took the sit beside you, living you in the middle of them. In was a cold night, but warm enought to survive with a jacket. Student of all ages came and went, rushing to take someone home or to just arrive to their houses before curfew. You were cleaning Roger’s pant, before someone interrupted you.

_Y/N leave it!- Said Roger puting your hand away.

_I don’t even know what that is, let me clean it!

Brian took a look at the patch in Roger pants.

_Is that the left over of your ham sandwich?- He Laughed.

Roger threw his head back.

_No, It’s not...

You were distracted by someone clearing their throat, your other bandmate, Tim. He had a sour look on his face, bass case on one hand. He opened his mouth, but rapidly closed it.He looked down at the floor and then at all of you.

_I´m leaving the band...- He said looking up.

_Tim..- You said shaking your head.

_I hope you are joking- Said Roger standing up with Brian, leaving you siting while watching the scene unfold.

_Don’t do it Tim.- Said Brian.

_It’s called Humpy Bong, they are going places. Uni gigs, pubs? We are not getting anywhere like this.

_The only thing you will be humping is each other, fuck off Tim.- You said angrily, making Roger laugh and Brian chuckle.

Tim shook his head.

_I´m sorry- He said before leaving.

You three looked stunned how Tim walked away from you. Brain and Roger sitted back down were they were before. 

_I think he’s right- Said Roger- That show was a total disaster.

_Well, there was room for improvement, yeah- Said Brian.

_I got better things to do on a saturday night, i could give you her name.- Said Roger looking at you.

You laughted and winked at him.

_You wish.

Roger was gonna respond, before you wre interrumted again. This time was young man with long hair and strong jawline. You knew him, you have seen each other here and there, mostly in parties. He was a good dude, liked to coment on how good your outfits were.

_I enjoyed the show- Said, who you remember to be Freddie, traying to sound casual.

_Thanks man-Said Brian.

_I have been following you for a while actually. Smile. Makes sense for a dentist student- He said looking at Roger- Astrophysics- Pointing at Brian- And environmental sciences- Smiling at your way- Makes you both the clevers ones.

_Yeah, i suppose it does.- Said Brian looking at Roger with ego, making him roll his eyes. 

_I study design. Also, I write songs- He said extending a piece of paper to Brian. Looking how he was not going to take it, you grabbed it. You have heard Freddie’s songs a long time ago, when he was still with his band, and they were pretty good. He looked grateful at you once you took them. Roger shook his head.

_You are five minutes too late.- Said Roger.

_Our lead singer just quit- You said, making Freddie smile.

_Then you will need some one knew.

That’s how the new band was formed. A few months later after trying with different people, John was introduced to the band. He was the only one who fitted in and everyone was more than happy to have him. So that´s how it begun. Their first performance together would be in the pub were they first met. To say they were nervous was an understandment, they have practiced in Brian’s basement, but being stressed on how the public was going to take them was eating them alive.

The day finally came. Brian, Freddie and John had already arrived to the pub to try and talk to the owner about the day of the week they will be coming and pay day, while Roger and y/n were in Brian’s house trying to get all the instruments in the van. You were saving the guitar on t’s case, while Roger was desperately trying to get all the drum set to fitt in the small place. With one bad movement, all of the cables of the amplifier fell on the floor at the same time that half of the drum set was slowly falling on Roger.

_Fuck! This is imposible!- He said angrily, trying to pick the cables on the floor, whil his other hand was holding the drum set.

 _Here let me help you- You accommodated everything on it’s place and then took a look at Roger who was lighting up a cigarette. At not being able to light it up, he let out a curse. You came closer and light it up for him. He looked up at you with a face you hadn’t seen in a long time, fear.

_Y/N?- He mumured

_Yes?

_What if they don’t like us?- He asked looking at you eyes.

_They will love us, i’m sure of it. We have practiced, we can’t be that bad- You laughted. Still seeing his insecurity, you tried one more time.- Plus, we have one of the most beutiful man in the town, ladies will we swooning. - You said shaking your hips a little, making him laugh.

_Thank you- He smiled.

_Come on, loverboy. We got people to impress.- You said graving his hand.

Roger couldn’t describe the warm felling that grew in his chest everytime you talk om him. He started to feel them a few months ago, when he realised how important yo were in his life. He knew he was slowly falling and there was no way out. Starting the van to leave, he took a last glance at you. You look stunning and there was no way out of hell he could love you more.

After arriving, fighting with the boys and fixing up the instruments, the show was starting.

_Hello all you beautiful people!- There was a big silence, until Brian started with his guitar riff.

Both you and Freddie started singing and moving around, owning the stage. People seem to love it, they were shouting and singing along. The energy on the room was amazing, everyone could feel it, you were killing it. You were moving side to side on the stage singing, until it was your cue to stop, Roger drum solo was starting. You turned around, giving you back to the audience, facing Roger. He looked amazing, the red light’s hitting his face just righ, pointing out his face structure. His lips poking and his eyes focused on the drums, you couldn’t help but find him irresistible. He looked up and smiled at you with that look in his eyes, you just could’t help but smile back. He was your death sentence.

She taught them all to love

She was their cream

And we don’t want her to go

but we know too well

She fell in love

And there’s no stopping her now

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #bohemian rhapsody #Brian May #brian may imagine #freddie mercury #rami malex imagine #gwylim lee #gwilym lee imagine #John deacon imagine #joe mazzello #joe mazzello imagine #queen imagine